#anyways I still need to do like every other race and class soon so I can get the fun dialog | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

justauthoring · 4 years ago

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Precious To Us [2]

In other words, you’re Seijoh’s manager.

This chapter, Oikawa’s fangirls.

A/N: Here it is! The second part! I had one person request an idea (thanks @minigranger) and I definitely plan on writing it soon but I love the trope of manager vs. fangirls that I can’t help myself. As usual, please send in ideas :)

Listen, Oikawa’s fangirls are mean.

They just are.

It doesn’t really matter to them that you’re a first year, if they’re supposed to be your seniors, they would probably still be bitches even if you were their seniors and in second/third year.

They seem to think Oikawa’s theirs, even though, of course, he isn’t and if asked, he definitely would deny.

And they see you as a threat.

A big, big threat.

Who gets to see Oikawa everyday? You. Who gets to see him practice every day? You. Who gets a front row to seat to every one of his games? You. And who does he flirt with? You.

It doesn’t matter if you reciprocate the flirting or not -- which of course, you don’t -- they’re jealous and they blame it all on you.

Honestly, the first month of managing is fine.

Now that you know who Oikawa is and you’re around him more, you do notice the fangirls, but they don’t really bother you and you’re too focused trying to learn the ropes to really care about their constant presence.

You know you’ve heard some of the other members, namely the third years, complain about them.

About how annoying and distracting they were when it came to practice, or just the mere fact that Oikawa seemed to revel in the attention and love.

You’ve heard them, but you don’t really say anything otherwise because they’ve never done anything to you so you don’t really care either or.

Besides, even if you do think it’s tad bit pathetic, you can’t deny they’re devoted and you guess, in some ways... good for them?

But when you don’t stop being manager, and the rest of the team, namely Oikawa, don’t get sick of you like they all expect them to, and a month passes and you seem to just be thriving, getting a long with everyone, and finally getting the hang of everything?

That’s when they attack.

You’re already late.

And even if you know none of the boys or even the coaches will be upset with you, you do like to be punctual and you absolutely hate being late. So, you’re rushing, practically sprinting through the halls as you try to gather your bearings and organize everything you need to.

You’re already thinking of what drills Oikawa will have the team do, and what you can do to help. Maybe you could bring up some of the notes you’ve made? You’re not a hundred percent on the terms, but Iwaizumi has been helping you, and you’re sure you’ve picked up on a few of the techniques and things you think the boys could improve on.

You didn’t want them to think you’re imposing, but this was the job of the manager wasn’t it? They always reminded you you were more then just a water girl, and that they greatly appreciated anything advice you had for them from an outsider point of view, so maybe--

Landing with a loud thud, a groan leaves your lips as you feel your chin smack against the concrete floor beneath you. It takes you a second to gather your bearings, baffled at how you were suddenly on the ground, and trying to ignore the pain at having bitten your own tongue. But the second you hear laughter, you realized exactly what had happened and your head turns around to stare at the three girls stood above you in bafflement.

They’re laughing at you, quite loudly and obvious mocking you, but your eyes narrow in bafflement when you realize you’re positive you’ve seen them before. You just can’t place your thumb on it. They’re not in your class, one of them doesn’t even seem to be in your year, and you don’t think you’d remember some random face you’d passed in the hall, so--

That’s right. You’ve seen them hanging around Oikawa before, and the one older girl had even snuck into practice one day.

Slowly pushing yourself to your feet, you move to gather your stuff, only for it to be kicked out of your grasp.

“What the--!”

“Listen.”

You blink when the older one, clearly the leader or whatever, is suddenly directly before you, barely a breaths away, glaring down at you.

“You need to quit being manager for Oikawa-san’s volleyball team.”

And your eyes widen, baffled, lips parting as you shake your head; “I don’t--”

“I think you perfectly understand,” the girl behind her sneers, eyes cold.

“We don’t like how close you were with Oikawa-san.”

“And we’re sure Oikawa-san’s sick of seeing your ugly face every day.”

You’re stunned silent. Honestly, you’re not really sure what to say.

“We’ll give you till the end of the week,” the head girl smiles, but it’s a sickly sweet, filling you with dread. “Okay?”

She doesn’t wait for you to respond before her and the other two are walking off, clearly proud of themselves if they way they walk and hold themselves is anything to go by.

It’s takes you five minutes to gather yourself before you start making your way to the gym again for practice.

Part of you wants to just skip and go home but you know the boys would be concerned, more then they probably already are given how late you are, and really, it would just cause more issues in the end anyways.

Besides, you’re never one to skip anyways.

You don’t cry. You’re not really sure why because you definitely want to, but the tears never come and then you’re suddenly in the gym and everyone's rushing towards you in concern, questions leaving their lips rapidly as to why you were so late.

You brush them off, and it almost works, before Iwaizumi takes notice of the dried blood on the corner of your lip that you’d regrettably missed when cleaning yourself up earlier and the scrape underneath your chin.

“What happened to your chin, Y/N? You’re bleeding.”

He steps towards you, but you brush him off.

“I just tripped is all. Bit my tongue.”

You smile and hope it’s enough to convince them, but even if Iwaizumi looks like he wants to argue, Oikawa’s already pulling him back onto the court.

“You’re so clumsy, Y/N-chan! You really do need to be more careful!”

Some of the boys laugh and you do too, forcing yourself to pretend like everything’s fine even though you can physically feel yourself shaking.

But even as he’s being dragged away, Iwaizumi is still eyeing you and you don’t let him grow anymore suspicious then you can tell he is. You send him a soft smile, and then turn, making your way over to the coach to see where you can help for the day.

And it continues on like that for week.

By the next day, every seems to have forgotten you being late and only Makki makes a teasing comment about the cat themed bandaid on your chin to which you begrudgingly shove him away with a shrill “it’s the only ones we have!” and you seem more like yourself then you had the day before that by the second day, even Iwaizumi has relaxed.

By the end of the week, even he seems to have forgotten about it.

But you haven’t.

And it being the end of the week has you scared.

Kindaichi seems to notice your weird behaviour in class, especially now that the two of you tend to stick together now that you’re acquainted. But you brush him off every time he asks, saying you just felt ill.

He seems to believe it fine.

Luckily for you, nothing happens.

You’re on edge all day expecting something to happen, but nothing ever does.

Aiko, the third year and clear ring leader of that little group, never approaches you. In fact, you don’t see her once all day, which that in itself isn’t odd since you’re in different years, but you had expected to see her lackies -- either Makoto, a first year like you, or even Nami, a second year.

But you don’t.

By the final bell, you’re relieved.

It was just a mindless threat. It didn’t mean anything clearly, and they had just been poking fun, and honestly you were fine with that -- so long as you didn’t have to deal with them again.

You’d just have to be more wary of the fangirls. Maybe they weren’t as kind as you thought you were, and clearly they thought you posed some kind of threat (even though you definitely didn’t) so you’d just keep it in mind and--

��I’m pretty sure we told you by the end of the week.”

It’s a harsh thud, you don’t fall to the ground like you did last time, but you do thud against the lockers which dig painfully into your back. And regrettably you let a small cry in response, which pales in comparison to the cry of pain that leaves your lips when one of them grab a chunk of your hair and tug, hard.

Pushing at the hands that grab at you, you spin, not surprise to see the same three as before, sneering down at you.

Aiko spits down at you. “Clearly you didn’t listen.”

“I’m not gonna just quit,” you whisper, feigning the confidence to speak up for yourself. Your eyes narrow up at her, even though your heart is racing madly against you chest, and shake your head adamantly. “I love managing the volleyball team, and it’s not even because of Oikawa-senpai! I love being will all the boys, and I won’t let you--!”

“You really are just a slut.”

You’re stunned silent, lips left parted.

“Listen, I gave you a week, you didn’t listen.” Aiko scoffs, shaking her head as she brushes her hair back, glaring down at you. “I’ll show you what happens when I don’t get my way.”

She strikes you hard, across the cheek, and naively, you think that’s it. You can handle some punches and kicks, because you really don’t want to give up the one thing that’s made you happy for the first time in a long time. Even as the hits continue, and your body starts to ache, you think,

I can handle this.

But still, you end up skipping practice that day. You blame it on the fact the fact that you just didn’t want to have to explain why you looked so battered and messed up, knowing this time no amount of lying was going to get you out of this one. Because, really, it wouldn’t just be Iwaizumi suspicious this time -- all the boys will be, and then they’ll probably talk to the coach and...

and, it’s just to much a fuss for you. So, you skip, sending a text to Oikawa explaining that you weren’t feeling well and you’d be back Monday and to please apologize on the coaches behalf for you.

But you don’t go back the next day.

When you open your locker the next Monday, your homework that you’d finished during lunch to previous day to get a head start is ruined. Completely and wholeheartedly ruined.

And when you glance around, the first thing you see is Makoto from across the hallway, smirking at you.

But you don’t have any proof.

So, you suck back the tears that threaten to fall, and sulk to your first class where you know the teacher will be less then pleased.

And of course she isn’t, but she simply sighs and tells you that if you don’t have it in by tomorrow, she’ll have to give you a failing grade.

Embarrassed and upset, you walk to your seat, ignoring Kindaichi’s watchful gaze as you sink into your seat.

But it only gets worse from there.

The second class starts, a note is tossed onto your desk.

You eye, confused, glancing around for who threw it, only for everyone to be faced forward, before glancing briefly at Kindaichi’s whose watching your curiously.

Slowly, you open it.

Is it true you actually slept with all of the volleyball team?

Laughter echoes, but when you look up, there’s three girls staring at you, all mockingly.

Kindaichi leans forward, trying to grab the note but you pull it from his grasp, avoiding his gaze.

He cannot see that.

And when the class ends, you narrowly avoid Kindaichi who calls for you, rushing out of the class, only for someone to bump into you the second you make it out, shoving harshly into your shoulder.

“Slut.” The voice sneers.

Your lips part, and you glance up, feeling your vision blur, but when you glance around, you suddenly notice the looks everyone’s giving you, and the way they laugh and sneer at you.

But what really makes you break is when you turn, feeling like everyone’s against you, and find Kindaichi staring at you with parted lips, obviously confused, and you just can’t hold it back then, turning without another word, and running off.

The day continues like that, and after lunch, which you spent alone hidden in a bathroom stall, you see Iwaizumi and Oikawa ahead of you, smiling when they notice you.

They look as if they want to talk, but you know then you absolutely cannot like that happen, for multiple reasons, so you turn around quickly, running off in the opposite direction despite the way they call after you.

You don’t go back to practice like you said you would.

And neither do you Tuesday.

When Wednesday rolls around, and every laughs at you when you walk pass them in the halls, or sneers at you, or looks at you like you’re the most disgusting thing, you go to the office when you realize you can’t handle this any longer.

No matter how much you love being on the team and managing the boys.

Little do you know, in class, Kindaichi notices the odd coloured paper in your hands and curiously, maybe even worriedly (because there’s a sinking feeling in his gut) peers over your shoulder as subtle as he can, lips parting when he reads the header.

Permission to quite a club form.

“I think Y/N’s going to quite the team.”

It’s the first words he says when he enters the club room that day, and it makes everybody pause.

Silence echoes, and slowly, unsurely, Yahaba shakes his head; “what-what are you talking about, Kindaichi? I thought Y/N said she just wasn’t feeling well, which is why--”

“I saw the form this morning,” Kindaichi shakes his head, “I know what I read.”

Oikawa shakes his head. “Y/N would’ve talked to us first if something was upsetting her. She wouldn’t just--”

“Haven’t you guys heard the rumours going around?”

It’s Kunimi who speaks this time, his voice the similar drawl it always is, but if you look at him close enough, it’s easy to tell that he’s concerned. Upset even. And he looks disgusted as he speaks, eyeing Kindaichi first, almost knowingly, before turning to the other boys.

Iwaizumi’s brows furrow; “what are you talk--”

“I think someone’s been bullying her,” Kindaichi frowns. “It started at the beginning of the week. Y/N came in with her homework ruined, which I thought was weird, because she always is so careful with her work and makes sure it’s done early. And then someone tossed this note onto her desk but she wouldn’t let me read it, and she wouldn’t talk to me or even look at me all class. Then, when class was over, people were... well--”

“There’s a rumour going around that’s she’s slept with all of us.”

It’s Kunimi who finishes it, Kindaichi’s face beet red, which quite a few of the boys mimic seconds later when Kunimi finishes.

But Oikawa? Oikawa just looks pissed.

“What?”

Kindaichi blanches, looking absolutely terrified; “I thought you knew! I didn’t--”

Oikawa storms past him, Iwaizumi quick to follow, and then Mattsun and Makki are right behind them. The first and second years glance at each other, before slowly following them, and sure enough the third years are heading straight for the gym, to which none of them are surprised to find you there, a form in your shaky hands as you stare at Coach Mizoguchi.

You turn to them with wide eyes, clearly having hoped to finish before any of the boys started practice. But Mizoguchi looks relieved. “Thank God you boys are here,” he breathes, standing up to which you try to stop him, but he isn’t listening, “Y/N wants to quit, but I really think she should talk to you first,” he’s looking directly at Oikawa, “she won’t tell me why. And please Y/N,” he turns to you, “I think you should reconsider.”

“We’ll talk to her,” Oikawa cuts in, voice oddly low before you can say anything.

Mizoguchi smiles, nodding at you before making his way over the gym obviously in search of Irihata. Instantly the tension thickens when you’re left alone with all eyes directly and solely on you.

It takes a second to find the words. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to any of you about it, but I...” And your voice falters, even you can’t help the way your voice quivers. “I think it’s best if I just quit.”

“You’re not quitting.” It’s Iwaizumi who speaks this time, and his voice is so firm, so sure, even if you’re not sure how to argue against it.

“But I-I--”

“You don’t need to quite,” Oikawa shakes his head, stepping towards you and pulling the form from your grasp with ease. You watch with parted lips as he simply rips it right in front of you, tossing it aside without much care, before glancing back at the rest, namely the other third years, turning back to you. “Now, tell us, who told you you had to quit?”

And your eyes bulge. How did he--

“Kindaichi and Kunimi told us about everything,” Iwaizumi starts, moving towards you, as your eyes fall to the first years, watching the way they both, even Kunimi, stare after you in concern. “We know someone’s been bothering you, so, just tell us.”

“We’ll help you,” Watari adds with a smile, hesitantly speaking up.

And you pause, unsure. But then you stare at them all watching you carefully, and see how all of them care so much, more then you ever thought they did and you’re reminded of why you’d refused to quit in the first place. Reminded of how much you love managing the volleyball team and no matter how much you were scared and hurt, you didn’t want to lose it all.

Lose them.

“It’s... It’s a few, three actually, of Oikawa-senpai’s fangirls,” you mumble, voice low, head turned downwards. “They... They don’t like how much time I spend with him, so they... they told me to quit and when I refused, they...” You don’t need to finish.

There’s a pause, before a slap echoes.

“Somehow I knew this was your fault, Shittykawa.”

“Ow!” Oikawa cries, “Iwa-chan, it’s not like I...” But he seems to pause, lips parting as he glances down at you, his heart breaking slightly at the tears in your eyes.

Stepping forward, he pulls you into a hug, and you let him; “I’m sorry, Y/N-chan, I didn’t know they were hurting you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It kinda is,” Mattsun comments, stepping forward as he smiles down at you, ruffling your hair. “It’s easier to blame him anyways.”

“I agree,” Makki laughs.

And even you find yourself laughing lightly.

“Really, Y/N-chan? Even you too?”

“Sorry.”

Then, everyone turns serious; “I’ll talk to them,” Oikawa frowns. “What they did isn’t okay. I won’t let them get away with it. They’ll never bother you again, Y/N.”

And you’re surprised by how serious he is.

But things do get better.

Aiko never bothers you again, nor does any other one of Oikawa’s fangirls.

Oikawa even makes her apologize, and even you have to admit the absolute mortification on her face makes everything a lot better.

The boys try to stop the rumour, but it’s easier said then done, though, the fame of it all does dwindle and you’re not snided in the hallways so much anymore.

It’s kind of hard to when you usually have one of the third years walking you to and from class anyways.

Besides, they’re your friends, and even if everyone else hates you, they don’t.

And that’s all that matters to you.

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sapphosthoughtsandwritings · 3 years ago

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if it’s not too much to ask please please please could you write more avengers x teen!reader? I adore the one with fear of the dark and was wondering if you could do something similar? Like either the avengers comforting the reader or just something with lots of hugs and cuddles? Thank you!! <3

Stage Fright - Avengers x anxious!teen!Reader

Summary: When your presentation for class goes terribly wrong, your team mates come to rescue you and take you home.

Warnings: depictions of anxiety, panic attack, a few cuss words

Type: angst, ends with fluff

Word Count: ~2.5k

A/N: MY FIRST REQUEST, very exciting!! I am so so glad you liked my work, and I hope you enjoy this one as well!! <3 I also have quite a few more ideas for teen!Reader fics, so this definitely won't be the last piece like this!

(Y/l/n) = your last name

(f/d) = favorite drink

You’d been dreading this day for weeks now. Clutching the straps of your backpack, you let out a deep sigh, walking up to the doors of your school. You didn’t like school to begin with, but the building seemed much more intimidating today. Making your way through the halls, you were grateful that you got to school early, you hated pushing through crowds of people.

“Hey, hey (Y/n)!”, a voice called from down the hall. You recognized it almost immediately. “Hi Peter, what’s up?”. You were happy to see him, maybe talking out your nervousness would help. “Oh, you know, just the same old stuff. Sure am tired though”. “Well, if you don’t sleep then you will be tired”. “Like you’re one to talk (Y/l/n)”. You only rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue at him, evoking a chuckle from him. “How about you? How are you doing?”. “Ugh, not great. I have to present that project today. Not particularly looking forward to it”, you huffed, looking down to the ground as your anxiety increased at the thought of presenting alone. “Hey, I’m sure you’ll do great. Most people don’t pay attention to presentations anyways”, he assured you. You popped your knuckles, still feeling just as nervous. You knew he was right, but that didn’t stop the fear surging through you. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t want to do it. Maybe if I wait long enough, there won’t be any class time left for me to present”, that was your hope, and your only plan to get out of this without panicking in front of the whole class. “Maybe, well regardless, I hope it goes well”, he offered you a sincere smile. “Yeah, I hope so too”. “Well, I should probably head to class, see you at lunch!”. “Right back at ya, Parker”, you waved gently to him as he disappeared down a hallway.

You made your way to your first class, deciding to read a bit before class started. Nothing you did eased the gnawing anxiety in the back of your mind though. Your first two classes were easy enough, but it was hard to focus, your mind racing with intrusive thoughts. ‘What if my voice gives out? What happens if I start crying in front of everyone? God, the whole school will hear about it. Everyone will stare at me, whisper about me every time I pass by them. I can’t do this, I just can’t’. By your third class, you’d bitten your nails down to blood, your lips suffering the same fate, cracked and split open. You almost considered skipping, but you’d worked hard on this project, you couldn’t let that go to waste. So, taking your seat in the back of the class, you tried breathing techniques, anything to help calm your senses. Your leg bounced so much, you swore the floor would give out under your foot.

The teacher turned out the lights, letting people present their projects voluntarily. You calmed the tiniest bit. If someone randomly kept volunteering to present, the class time was sure to run out before you even got the chance to stand up. Throughout the class, you were on edge, chanting silent prayers in your head. You weren’t very fortunate though, as everyone presented quickly, making it apparent that you were going to have to present no matter what. “Alright, who hasn’t gone up yet?”, your teacher called out, looking at her grading sheet. ‘Oh my god, please don’t see my name. Please tell me I don’t exist. Let me just disappear. I can’t do this’. “Oh! (Y/n) still hasn’t presented, come on over and I’ll pull up your project”, your teacher chirped.

Your heart pounded painfully hard in your chest, slowly standing up on jelly legs, keeping your gaze down as you walked to the whiteboard. You couldn’t possibly do this. You were going to die. Every mission you’d ever gone on seemed so miniscule in this moment, as you looked out to your peers. It was too dark to see most of their faces, which only made your situation worse. Your teacher pulled up the project on the projector, gesturing to you to start presenting, as she clicked her pen, ready to write down every mistake you made.

Letting out a jittery breath, you clasped your sweaty hands together and began talking. You were shaking so badly, it was like an earthquake had erupted inside of your body. You could feel the tears threatening to spill past your eyes, leaving a hard pain in your throat. Your chest hurt, and your breathing was becoming more erratic. But you had to finish, you had to get this over with. Just as you were on one of the last slides, a voice called from somewhere in the class, “Hey, pipsqueak! Speak up, would ya? We can’t hear you back here!”. The comment elicited a few snickers, which your teacher hushed quietly, but the damage was already done. The room was suddenly shrinking around you, as your chest tightened even further. You bit your lip, trying your best to compose yourself, attempting to push down your anxiety, but it only pushed back up more violently. “(Y/n)? You still have a few slides left”, your teacher said, but you didn’t hear her. Instead, your fight or flight instincts took over, and you raced out of the classroom, tears now breaking free, streaming down your face. You headed to the nearest bathroom, locking yourself in a stall, your whole world crumbling beneath you.

Leaning against the door, you slid down, breath caught in your throat, fighting to get out, but to no avail. Instinctively, you brought your knees up to your chest, clutching at the seams of your pants, letting out choked sobs and broken coughs. There was only one thing you could think of that might help you, and that was your teammates. You pulled your phone out of your pocket, continuing to shake violently, as you clicked the emergency contacts, thumb pressed to the first person, which just so happened to be Bucky. You lifted the phone to your ear, barely hearing the ring, despite your call volume being all the way up.

Bucky saw your name pop up on his phone, panic surging through him. You never called, it made you too anxious. He answered instantly, “(Y/n)? (Y/n), sweetheart, are you okay?”. His sudden panic mixed with your name caused both Steve and Sam to stand by him, all of them mentally preparing for an emergency. You wanted to reply, but all that came out was a squeak, as your fist collided with the tiled floor, your oxygen levels becoming more scarce by the second. Bucky put his phone on speaker, letting all three of them talk to you. “(Y/n), doll, you gotta breathe okay? Through your nose, count on your fingers”, Bucky stated, trying to keep his voice steady for you. “Yep, deep breaths (Y/n), you’ve got this. You’re gonna be okay”, Steve reassured you. After about 10 minutes of the three of them gently coaxing you out of your panic attack, you calmed slightly, leaving you crying quietly.

“We’re almost back at the compound, we’ll come and pick you up in about 20 minutes, okay?”, Steve said, giving no room for protests, although at this point you weren’t going to object. You wanted to go home. “Okay, I guess I should get back to class then”, you murmured, realizing that you’d probably been gone for over 15 minutes now. It was weird no one came to look for you, but you weren’t complaining. “If you aren’t ready to go back kid, that’s fine. We can stay on the call as long as you need”, Sam mentioned, his voice sounded beyond concerned. You had a bad habit of not taking care of yourself, especially in times of crisis. “No, I’ll be fine, gotta go back to get my stuff anyways”, you were dreading going back. The whole class would be focused on you for sure, not to mention the faux sympathy from your teacher, something that would surely cause another flood of tears. You just wanted to go unnoticed, for everyone to ignore your presence. “Alright, if you’re sure”. “I’m sure, I’ll see you guys soon”, you weren’t sure, but you had to convince them, you knew too well that they’d cause a scene at the school if things got worse. “Okay, stay safe sweetheart, we’ll be there as soon as possible”, Steve stated, before Bucky reluctantly hung up the phone.

Letting out a deep sigh, you pushed yourself up, groaning slightly as you forced your stiff body to move. You stepped out of the stall, silently thanking the universe for not letting anyone walk in during your breakdown. You looked to one of the mirrors, finding a disheveled figure staring back at you. You grabbed a paper towel, dampening it in the sink, and gently washing the dried tears off your face. You fixed your clothing and washed your hands, before making the godawful trip back to class. There was only 5 minutes left for the class, but that was more than enough time for shit to go wrong. You stood outside the door for a minute, taking a moment to compose yourself.

Turning the handle slowly, you eased your way past the door, the lights now on. Just as you expected, all eyes turned on you, but most turned away quickly, looking back to their friend or their phone. That lifted your nervousness a bit, as you started to head back to your desk, but your teacher had other plans, as she cleared her throat, motioning for you to go and talk to her. You cussed quietly to yourself, could this day get any worse? You dragged your feet over to her desk, biting your now scabbed lip. “So, your project was very good, therefore, I’m going to give you a 90, but I have to dock 10 points for your presentation”, she spoke quietly and sternly. Your face grew hot with her words, tears swelling in your eyes again. She was taking points off for something that you couldn’t control? It pissed you off to say the least. You only looked away from her desk, nodding slightly, knowing better than to open your mouth. “Alright then, you can go and pack up your things”. You walked quickly back to your desk, putting the few things you had taken out back into your backpack, before the bell rang for lunch. Dashing out of the class, you headed straight for the front of the school, more than ready for the day to be over. You’d email your 4th period teacher later on what work you missed out on. On your way, you made sure to text Peter, letting him know everything that happened, and that you wouldn’t be there for lunch.

You only had to wait for a few minutes, as Sam walked through the doors, spotting you quickly and walking over to you. “You alright kid?”. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, jus’ want this day to be done already”. He nodded, following you to the front office, signing everything to excuse you for the day. He kept a close eye on you the whole time, a protective hand placed on your shoulder. Stepping out of the building, he led you to the car where Bucky and Steve awaited. You got into the back seat, Sam sitting in the seat next to you.

“Hey doll, you feeling alright?”, Bucky quizzed, angling his body to look at you. “Yeah, ‘m glad you guys offered to pick me up though. Don’t really think I could’ve lasted another class”, you fidgeted with your hands, you knew your nerves wouldn’t calm for a while, but at least it was manageable now. “We’re always here for you, kid, no matter what”, Sam assured you, patting your shoulder softly. “Mhm, you can always come to us, even if we’re on a mission. Our job can always wait, your well being is more important than anything”, Steve added, looking briefly to you in the rearview mirror. “Thank you for that, you guys are the best”, you smiled bashfully. “No need to thank us, jus’ doing what’s right”, Bucky stated. “So, whatcha feel like doing when we get back?”, Sam asked. You thought for a moment, doing anything social sounded horrible at the moment, and the weighted blanket in your room was calling your name. “How ‘bout a pizza and movie night?”, you inquired, knowing they’d all like the idea, hell the whole team would probably join in. “Sounds good to me”, Steve mused, he always liked time for the team to bond. “Me too”. “Me as well, I’m starving dude”, Sam quipped, causing all of you to chuckle.

It didn’t take long to get back to the tower, all of you heading inside, you going to your room to set your stuff down and to change into something more comfy. After changing, you grabbed your weighted blanket, wrapping it around you, heading back down to the common room. Word must’ve spread fast, cause the whole team was gathered there, everyone sitting in a designated spot, except for Tony, who was currently ordering pizza over the phone. “Hey, there they are, rough day at school?”, Natasha asked, giving you a warm smile. “Yeah, not the greatest”, you huffed out a small laugh. “Well, in that case, you get to choose the first movie draga”, Pietro looked up at you from his spot on the floor. You hummed in response, before placing your decision on one of your favorite comfort movies. Clint started to look it up on the various streaming services, finding it almost instantly. “This one, right?”. You nodded happily, making your way over to sit between Steve and Wanda. “Hey, kiddo, you want a drink? And I’m guessing you want some extra garlic breadsticks too, right?”, Tony asked, holding his phone away from his mouth slightly. “Uhh, I’ll have a (f/d), and duh, of course I want garlic breadsticks”. “Yeah, what type of question is that?”, Pietro chimed in. Tony scoffed at him, rolling his eyes, but continued placing the order.

Wanda opened her arms next to you, allowing you to curl into her side as her arms wrapped softly around you. You stretched your legs out, Steve placed them on his lap, gently rubbing his thumb over your calf. Your nerves were finally winding down, as Clint pressed play on the movie. Wanda kept an arm wrapped around your back, her other hand resting gently on the side of your head, making sure to keep you close. The pizza arrived shortly after the movie had started, and you grabbed as much food as you wanted. You deserved it after the day you had. After the first movie finished, and the team voted on a new movie to watch, you felt yourself begin to drift off. You couldn’t have imagined a more perfect setting, comfort and warmth surrounding you. You didn’t make it far into the second movie before you fell asleep, listening to the sound of Wanda’s heart beating, the events from earlier that day flooding away, leaving you to sleep peacefully, knowing that you were safe and sound.

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eleanorfenyxwrites · 2 years ago

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WIP Wednesday

LQR & LJY [Another double length post 😊]

[Beginning]

“You do still have lessons, because you must continue to learn to cultivate. However, most of your lessons will be with me from now on, and I will only be teaching you. It will not be the sorts of classes you are accustomed to. I will give you problems to solve, questions to answer, things to memorize like you do now in your group lessons, but we will do these things while I work and you assist me. You will not be asked to sit still and be quiet all day long, you will be allowed to move as much as you’d like, and to ask me any questions that come to your mind because you need not worry about interrupting others.”

Jingyi blinks at that. There’s no way anyone is allowed to learn like that. That’s impossible. Plus there’s no way Lan-xiansheng understands just how many questions Jingyi has every day, so many of which go unanswered and how many more go unasked in the first place. He wouldn’t be offering this if he knew the truth, which means that Jingyi must have deceived him in some way. He feels panic clutch at his chest at the thought but he does his best to hide it; it’s everything he’s ever wanted since he was old enough to realize his parents weren’t coming back for him, but he’s dismayed to realize that getting it all at once actually sort of…scares him.

“Yes Lan-xiansheng,” he agrees anyway because that seems like the safest thing to do, and it’s not like he doesn’t want all of this. He just doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly being given it, or how permanent (or not) all of it is. It doesn’t seem like something he should be allowed to have, and as soon as someone realizes as much they’ll take it all away again. That’s what happens to things that are too good to be true - they don’t last. He doesn’t get to keep them.

He’s warring with himself between doing everything he can to ruin this now before he gets used to it versus wanting to cling onto it for as long as possible so he can enjoy it before it all crumbles out from under his feet. Unfortunately his instinct for self-preservation has always needed some work so after a long pause he blurts out, “Lan-xiansheng, why aren’t you punishing me? Is it..I mean do I have to wait until later for Hanguang-Jun to tell someone else everything I did so they can do it instead of you? Can we do it now instead since you already know what I did?”

“You want to be punished?” Lan-xiansheng asks and if Jingyi didn’t know any better he’d think he sounds surprised. “For what?”

Jingyi shifts a little bit, absolutely sure that this is a trap but equally sure that he’s going to blunder right into it like he always does. The aunties do this to him all the time, trick him into admitting to things that even other children do but don’t get caught and punished for, and he hates it but he’s never figured out how not to do it. He just talks and ends up admitting to everything without even trying, and it scares him sometimes, like just opening his mouth is enough to get him into trouble.

“I was disrespectful to you,” he starts with a sinking heart. “I ran away from the aunties. I broke curfew. I broke into a house. I stole food. I made Hanguang-Jun break curfew to take me home. I know that Hanguang-Jun said last night that I’m not in trouble but that’s not right! It’s..Hanguang-Jun doesn’t lie! He doesn’t ever break rules which means he doesn’t lie, but how can what he said be true? How can I have broken so many rules and not be in trouble when I’m always in trouble?”

“Hanguang-Jun breaks rules.”

Jingyi’s racing mind screeches to a halt and he stops twisting his hands together in his lap to blink at Lan-xiansheng, uncomprehending.

“What?”

“Hanguang-Jun breaks rules. As does Zewu-Jun, and as do I. No one in this Sect is perfect. It is impossible to follow every single rule perfectly at all times, and it is not expected that anyone will do so.”

Jingyi blinks a few times as he tries to make that…make sense. That can’t possibly be right. Why have all those rules then if they’re not all supposed to be obeyed all the time? Why punish people for breaking them if it’s expected? Does that mean Hanguang-Jun has been punished? Lan-xiansheng?!

“Jingyi, look at me.”

Jingyi looks up sharply from blinking down unseeingly at the floorboards to meet Lan-xiansheng’s intense stare.

“The reason you are not in trouble for your actions yesterday is because you were in distress, and even though I am sure that you were aware of every rule you broke as you broke them, you still behaved that way because you were afraid and upset. I do not believe you did any of those things because you were gladly defying the rules, but rather because you saw no other option that you could bear.”

Jingyi blinks furiously again at that and wonders for a frantic moment if he isn’t actually still asleep and dreaming this entire conversation.

“If I had to guess I would also think that your behavior for the past months has been for similar reasons. You have told myself and Hanguang-Jun that you disrupt class because you do not understand the material and find sitting still to be unbearable no matter how much you try. In that case, being punished later for causing a disruption is a consequence that is not as upsetting in the moment as the pain of sitting still and quiet is, and so it is the only acceptable alternative.

“You are not the first naturally loud person to step foot in Cloud Recesses, nor will you be the last. It is such a consistent issue despite how much you dislike and fear punishment that I can only conclude that it is something you have little control over at the moment, and that no one is helping you attempt to find that control. If that is the case, it means that it is not your fault but the fault of those who should be teaching you and have not been.

“I will not punish you any further for these behaviors unless I see that you take delight in breaking these rules, rather than feeling compelled to do so because the way your mind works is incompatible with the standard way we teach the other disciples.”

It really does all sound far too good to be true.

Because that’s it. That’s it exactly. The only thing missing is how good it feels to get attention - any attention - instead of being ignored and discarded, but Jingyi doesn’t feel a need to share that reason; it’s too embarrassing. It’s enough that Lan-xiansheng seems to understand, somehow, what it’s like in his head. He doesn’t want to break the rules, he doesn’t want to be bad, but he can’t seem to help himself when the alternative means doing things that make him feel like he’s going to crawl out of his skin if he doesn’t fix the problem immediately. Only fixing the problem means moving, wiggling, asking the questions burning in his mouth. All things that no one wants him to do.

“I can see on your face that I am correct.”

“Yes, Lan-xiansheng,” he manages and scrubs his sleeve hard over his stupid wet eyes. “Thank you.”

“You do not need to thank me, Jingyi, this is my responsibility. Now - I wish to re-teach you everything that you have struggled with so far, and that is why I have asked you to tell me what you struggle with. It is not so that I can hurt you, or so that I can ask why you do not understand basic concepts at your age. I know why you don’t as I have just established, I only need to know what I must teach you. Can you tell me?”

And Jingyi - finally willing to begin to trust that if Lan-xiansheng were trying to trap him he would just say so - tells him. Everything.

[Previous] / [Next]

#WIP Wednesday #Lan Jingyi #Lan Qiren #LQR: *describes LJY's obvious ADHD*#LJY: :O

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pondwatr04 · 3 years ago

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Who Obeys Who?

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

~F!Mc~ Word Count: 4,494

Summary: After Mc’s latest brush with death, Lucifer has placed various rules to ensure her safety. However, the independent human will soon discover that the brothers have become increasingly possessive/protective over her, to the point where she begins to feel suffocated. In the heat of the moment during a particularly bad fight, Mc uses the power of her pacts and accidentally harms the brothers in the process. Anguished over this and the brothers’ behavior, she runs away and seeks a way to break the pacts, for their sake and her own!

Warnings: Mention of death, brief violence, aggressive scenarios.

It was no secret to anyone that the 7 Lords of Devildom were fiercely protective of their little human, however this was something that Mc was still adjusting to. Back in the human world, Mc was never really the center of attention or had particularly protective family/friends, and was quite content with the sense of freedom that came with such a life.

However, as the brothers began to grow closer and closer with her, their desire to guard the new member of their family also swelled. At first, she found this behavior somewhat endearing; it warmed her heart to know that such powerful and feared demons cared so deeply for her, a mere mortal human. With this new sensation of the brothers at her side, Mc felt safe in Devildom, despite the multiple times she had almost lost her life.

That was until she had a particularly bad run in with several lower demons at RAD once a day. Mc had left her classes mid-session to use the restroom, the hallways were silent and empty as everyone was seated in their classrooms. However, when she was making her way back to class, three lower demons jumped out and began attacking her, beating her nearly unconscious.

In between the grunts and deafening blows the demons dealt her, she could hear them shouting something about how she was making the Demon Lords soft, that her presence was ruining their reputation as fearsome, cruel creatures.

However, it was over as soon as it started; the demons left her gasping alone on the cool, tiled floor. Soon after Mammon (who had been in the process of skipping class) discovered her battered body and called his brothers for help. Although Mc hadn’t sustained any serious injuries, she was quickly raced to the nearest hospital and made a swift recovery with the help of Solomon and Simeon’s healing abilities.

In the days after the incident, Mc was feeling suprisingly unscatched, both physically and mentally. Despite how worried sick the brothers were, she was simply happy that the whole ordeal was over and done with, the perpetrators promptly beaten and jailed. However, Lucifer had decided this was not good enough for Mc, or rather, him.

==================================

Mc sat nervously at the dining table in the House of Lamentation, all the chairs filled with their respective brothers. Lucifer had called a “family meeting” earlier that day during RAD classes and had stressed that everyone must be there.

At first Mc hadn’t been too worried about the sudden order, but simply watching Mammon anxiously bounce his leg from next to her with his chin resting gravely on his palm, had her suddenly reconsidering. Everyone instantly perked up as Lucifer cleared his throat from the end of the long table.

“In light of… recent events...,” he begins his gaze sweeping from brother to brother, eventually landing firmly on Mc, making her jump slightly. He pauses for a moment, huffing slightly.

“...I have decided that there is an urgent need for new rules regarding Mc, more specifically on how to ensure she remains safe in her time at Devildom,” he announces.

“What do you mean ‘new rules’,” Mc questions, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

Lucifer shoots her a quick glare after being interrupted before continuing.

“I mean that as of today, you cannot be without an escort when leaving the House of Lamentation under any circumstances-,” he says as Mc rises quickly from her chair.

“What?! I need an escort?-'' she exclaims, hands placed definitely on the table before her.

“-That includes walking to and from RAD, walking between class periods, and anywhere else outside of the House of Lamentation,” he continues, ignoring Mc’s sudden outburst.

“That ridiculous, I can handle walking myself perfectly fine-,” Mc shouts.

“You will be required to have your D.D.D on you at all times, and you are not permitted to leave the house after 8pm,” he states coldly, staring down Mc. “All of which are effective for an indefinite amount of time.”

“This isn’t necessary, Lucifer! I know what happened last week, but that doesn’t mean you can just start making me follow all these crazy restrictions!” Mc pleads, desperately looking around the table at the brothers for any semblance of support.

However, they all avoid her gaze, a few of them taking sudden interest in the intricate carvings that adorn the side of the wooden table.

“It is necessary, Mc,” Lucifer says matter-of-factly, crossing his arms. “I know that you’re a very independent person, but these rules are for your own safety.”.

“I’m sorry Lucifer, but I won’t allow myself to submit to this-,” Mc begins defiantly.

“-You will follow these rules. This is not something that is up for discussion, Mc!” he bellows, causing everyone at the table to flinch at the sudden aggression.

“And that goes for all of you,” he commands, pointing accusingly at his brothers. “You all are to make sure that she adheres to these rules, you understand?”

They all exchange quick glaces between a fuming Mc and Lucifer’s stern expression. They all nod slowly, reluctantly submitting to Lucifer’s will. Mc flops angrily into her chair, teeth clenched as she festers silently in her own wrath.

As much as she wants to, she simply can’t win against Lucifer, especially not on this one. Seeing that none of the other brothers came to her aid, she decides she has no choice but to swallow her pride. Biting her tongue, she nods slightly along with the brothers.

“Then… that is all that I need to say,” Lucifer says, his composure restored as he rises from his seat. “This meeting is adjourned.”

In the days after Lucifer's declaration, Mc begrudgingly followed each rule. Although she was still fuming, she offered no further protest on the matter, electing to just wait until Lucifer decided these restrictions were no longer necessary.

After a while, Mc began to not be particularly bothered by these rules. Although she valued her occasional moments of solitude, having the brothers escort her from place to place proved to be somewhat enjoyable. Additionally, having her D.D.D on her at all times wasn’t too much of a hassle, and it wasn’t like she had many places to be in Devildom after 8pm.

However, Mc began to feel more concerned with the brothers’ behavior as more and more questionable moments occurred between them. She first took notice of this somewhat alarming shift in behavior when Mc was conversing with a new friend from her Curses and Hexes class; another demon, obviously.

Mc was always eager to make new friends, especially since she rarely had the chance to talk to any demons outside of the seven brothers. Her and this new demon had randomly sparked up a conversation when he had asked her for a spare pencil. He had noticed it had a design on it that originated from a popular movie franchise that he was also interested in, so the duo became engrossed in discussing the topic long into the class period. Even after the bell rang, they continued absentmindedly laughing and chatting with one another.

This caused Beel, who had recently begun waiting for Mc outside of each of her classes to walk her from period to period, to peek his head in the room worriedly. The redhead immediately noticed the lower demon and how he was leaning against Mc’s desk, deep in conversation with his human. Anger quickly sparked in the pit of his abdomen, prompting him to stalk swiftly towards the duo.

He planted a solid hand on Mc’s shoulder. “The bell rang, Mc. Let’s go to your next class,” he grunts, refusing to acknowledge the surprised demon beside him.

“Oh, it's okay Beel. You can go without me, I’ll be leaving after I finish up here in a second,” Mc says cheerfully, waving Beel on without much thought.

In response, his grip tightens every-so slightly on Mc’s shoulder, digging into the fabric of her uniform. “No. I have to go with you Mc,” he says firmly.

“Beel, seriously, it’s okay,” Mc responds in a quizzical tone, eyes flickering between his face and his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll just have my friend here walk me instead. Your class is on the other side of campus anyway, so you’ll be late if you wait for me.”

“I don’t care if I’m late. I’m not going to let you be alone with some other demon, Mc,” he growls.

Both Mc and the lower demon gape at Beel, taken aback by his sudden aggression.

“Beel! Don’t be rude! You don’t need to worry about him, he’s oka-,” Mc exclaims.

“Mc. I’m not leaving you with him,” Beel repeats, this time finally eyeing the fidgeting lower demon sitting across from him. He wilts slightly from Beel’s piercing gaze, feeling as if he’s somehow made a grave mistake by simply talking to Mc. Mc shakes Beel’s hand from her shoulder, rising from her desk to confront him head on.

“Beelzebub. I’m telling you-,” Mc begins before she’s abruptly interrupted by Beel grabbing her wrist and tugging her towards the classroom’s exit. Despite her protests, he managed to make it halfway to her next period before Mc finally wrenched herself from his grip. The other demons in the hallway disperse, fleeing to their classrooms after sensing the dangerous arua the Avatar of Gluttony was emitting.

“What the hell Beel?” she pants, rubbing the angry red skin on her wrist. She eyes him, feeling increasingly uneasy; what happened back in the classroom...it was completely out of character for him. He never spoke to her, or anyone in that way, let alone put his hands on her like that.

“Lucifer said you can’t go anywhere by yourself,” he explains, placing a hand on his neck while shame begins to replace the wrath within him.

“Yeah, I wasn’t going by myself. I said that my friend was going to walk me instead,” Mc shoots back.

Beel frowns, “You can’t trust any demon you meet, Mc. You don’t know if you really would be safe with him.”

In the back of her mind, Mc knows he’s half right; she simply didn’t know that demon well enough to confidently say he wouldn’t try something the moment she was alone and vulnerable. However, she wasn’t upset that Beel questioned his integrity anymore, she was upset that he didn’t even take a moment to consider her feelings on the matter. He simply ran off with her without a second thought, completely disregarding her ability to judge a person’s character on her own without him or one of his brothers weighing in with their own cynical opinions.

They stood silently for a moment as Mc stewed in her thoughts, the hallway empty, its air turning stale around them. Before she could give a proper retort, the sound of the school’s bell rang around them, indicating that they were now both late for class. Mc clenched her firsts angrily.

She then turned sharply and stalked to her next period, allowing an uneasy Beel to accompany her from a distance. Once she entered her classroom and slammed the door behind her, Beel began the trek on his own class. When the next period ended, Mc found Belphie waiting outside to escort her in place of Beel.

Despite this concerning event, there was a brief lull in the brothers’ display of possessive behavior; whether that be because they finally realized that they were suffocating Mc with their antics, or because Mc had been more careful about complying to Lucifer’s rules. However, this moment of peace was soon to be interrupted.

After Asmo accidentally spilled wine on Mc during a visit to Ristorante Six, he had vowed to take her shopping for a whole new outfit, even though it only really stained her blouse. When Levi caught wind of the excursion, he decided to tag along to go window shopping for some newly released Ruri-chan merchandise.

That weekend, the trio made their way to the bustling shopping center at the heart of Devildom; the majority of the day was very lighthearted and served as a much needed break from school and the crushing protectiveness of the brothers. They all spent hours browsing and trying on clothes in Majolish, laughing as Asmo forced Levi to briefly explore his fashion sense with them. After they finally left, Mc and Asmo struggled to carry the various bags filled to the brim with clothes and accessories while Levi happily snapped pictures of the exasperated pair, offering no help as he uploaded the photos to Devilgram.

After some more teasing, Levi finally slid his phone away before reaching to take one of the heavier bags from Mc’s hand. Mc gladly accepts the aid, shifting her weight forward to lean towards his extended hand. However, her shoe briefly caught the raised surface of a slightly out-of-place tile in the pavement, causing her to trip mid-step. Before she could sprawl across the floor below, she collides into a passing demon, falling face first into their chest.

“Hey! Watch it-,” the demon shouts, falling backwards from the force of the impact.

Mc instantly removes herself from the demon. “Ah-, I’m sorry! Are you okay?,” flustered from the embarrassing spectacle she’s caused. She offers a hand to the fallen demon, smiling politely as they glare at her from the floor.

“My apologies, I accidentally tripped, and you just happened to be in front of me...,” she says quickly as they begrudgingly reach to take her hand.

Before their palms can overlap, Levi moves in between the two, slapping the demon’s hand away from Mc’s. Shocked, the demon sharply pulls back his hand, hissing from the insult.

“Levi? What the fuck was that for?” Mc gasped, Levi’s expression startlingly contradicting the joyful demon he was moments ago.

“Don’t fucking talk to her like that,” Levi snarls at the demon, shoving Mc behind him despite her protests. “Stay the fuck away from us.”

At a loss for words, Mc desperately looks to Asmo for help. Rather than stepping forward to mitigate the situation as he so often does, Asmo simply moves to pick up the fallen bag and plants himself next to Levi, ignoring Mc’s aghast face.

“Guys, calm down! It was my fault, I was the one who bumped into them!” Mc exclaims, moving in front of the pair with raised hands.

“Yeah, what the hell? It was just an accident-,” the demon begins, moving to return to a standing position. Before they can get themselves completely upright, Levi shoves him to the ground.

“Levi-,” Mc yelped at the sudden display of violence. This time, she places a hand on the two advancing brothers’ chest, glaring at them both.

“If you two don’t knock this shit off right now, I’ll use our pacts to command you to stop,” she warns, hoping the anger in her tone masked the fear she felt creeping its way into the corners of her mind.

Levi clicks his tongue in frustration, reluctantly taking a step away from the terrified demon. Asmo slowly follows, never taking his eyes off them.

“Fine,” Asmo mutters. “But it would be in your best interest to leave, and never show your face around us ever again,” Asmo spat at the demon, his usually pristine face twisted into an irritated grimace.

The demon immediately takes off in the other direction, leaving the trio alone in the street. Before Mc could scold them, they both link their arms around her’s and stomp away.

“That was out-of-fucking line, guys!” Mc exclaims after a moment of stunned silence. The pair flinch a little but continue tugging her back to the House of Lamentation wordlessly.

“That was… that was absolutely ridiculous! It was just a simple mistake, and it was my fault! There was no reason for you guys to blow up on them like that!” she says, whipping her head from side to side in an attempt to read the faces of the two demons.

“Why’re you acting like that demon running into me was some kind of assasinaton attempt?! You guys didn’t used to be this… unreasonable…” she trails off, desperately trying to get Levi or Asmo to meet her eyes. “...What the fuck happened?” she asks the pair.

“I’ll tell you what the fuck happened, Mc,” Levi finally retorts, clenching his teeth as he lifts his head to look at her from behind his violet hair. “You… you were almost killed... not even a month ago. And if you think we’re just going to let something like that happen again then-”.

“But they weren’t trying to kill me!” Mc thundered, shaking with anger. “You both totally overreacted!”

“We can’t be too careful, Mc. I’m sorry we upset you, but I’d rather that than risk you being murdered!” Asmo admits, gripping her arm desperately.

“There was no danger, Asmo!” Mc yells. “Why can’t you two understand that?”

Levi and Asmo exchanged troubled glances.

“Mc, we’re just trying to do what’s best for you…” Levi pleads, Asmo nodding.

“This is what you think is best for me?! Just tearing off with me the moment I interact with any demon aside from you guys?” Mc scoffs, struggling to wrap her mind around the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

The two demons are silent, festering in shame and frustration. They avoid her eyes, struggling to produce a proper retort.

“I decide what is best for me, got it?! Because clearly, you guys have lost all touch with reality!” she continues, beyond caring about softening her insults.

Although the brothers wanted to argue back, they both elected to bite their tongues for the rest of the walk home, hoping that Mc would eventually calm down and come around to their point of view.

However, when they finally arrived home Mc ripped her arms from their grip, storming to her room while Asmo and Levi frantically tried to apologize from behind her wake. She slammed the door in their faces; they knocked the wooden surface as they pleaded for her to let them so they could make it up to her.

After a while of fruitlessly calling to her, they finally gave up, leaving Mc alone to quietly sob in her room. She refused to speak to the pair for a couple days afterward, but eventually gave up on attempting to hold a grudge on the demons she loved so deeply. She tried to drop her guard around them once again, but still couldn’t shake that uneasy feeling that had been clouding her mind ever since that day.

==================================

Although Mc found these instances incredibly peculiar (alarmingly so), she still gave the demon brothers the benefit of the doubt. She understood that they cared for her fiercely, and that this could lead them to act aggressively; but she could not wrap her head around why they were starting to disregard how Mc felt. They had begun to handle her like a delicate piece of artwork; something to be admired from within a protective container, never to be touched by outside hands.

Despite this, she decided that for the time being she would simply grin a bear it all while she gave them a chance to calm themselves, hoping they would all eventually return to their normal selves. However, this was not the case as Mc would soon realize after she had forgotten to walk home with Mammon after classes at RAD.

As per Lucifer’s rules, Mc was to be accompanied by one of the brothers to and from school. After much pestering from Mammon, she agreed to make walking back with him a daily occurrence. The two would meet in the garden at the center of RAD’s campus and make the journey home together, chatting about their day. However, Mc had completely forgotten about this agreement one day.

Mc has a bad habit of becoming lost in thought, forgetting the world around her as she silently listens to music through a pair of tangled earbuds. Mc was often accompanied by at least 1-2 demon brothers at once, so she doesn't often get much time to simply explore her own thoughts without interruption. This, coupled with her bad habit of becoming detached from the present, caused her to simply walk straight to the House of Lamentation without the thought of meeting Mammon even crossing her mind.

She had gotten home before any of the others, and absentmindedly slumped into bed after changing out of her RAD uniform. Lazily rolling over, she reached out to pick up her previously discarded D.D.D and earbuds, music still faintly playing. She clicked on the screen to turn off the music and noticed she had 9 new notifications while her phone was on silent. There were 6 text messages from Mammon, and 4 new missed calls. Mc sat up in bed to read the texts:

“Oi! Where the hell are ya at Mc?” - 19 minutes ago

“Are you coming or not? Did ya forget about me?” - 16 minutes ago

1 missed call.

“Did ya walk home with Asmo instead of me? That hurts my feelings, ya know.” - 15 minutes ago

1 missed call.

“Hey! Respond to my calls… you’re startin’ to worry me”. - 12 minutes ago

"If you’re worried that I’m mad, I’m not! Just text me when ya get home safely, OK?” - 11 minutes ago

2 missed calls.

“That's it! You better call me back right now, or I’m gonna start freakin’ out!” - 6 minutes ago

Mc drags a hand over her face, annoyed by his gross overreaction. Mammon has always been the clingy type, something she had gotten used to and eventually found somewhat endearing. However, this was just too much…

Before she could even begin to return his calls, the door to her room burst open, swinging on its hinges and slamming into the wall with a loud bang. There in the doorway stood Mammon, sweaty, panting, and obviously very distressed. Alongside him stood Satan, Asmo, and Belphie, all looking slightly less disheveled but with equally concerned expressions. As soon as they laid their eyes on her, relief immediately flushed all other emotion from their faces.

“Wha-”, she began, but was swiftly cut off when Mammon leapt towards her to clutch her shoulders.

“What the hell happened Mc?!” he exclaims, shaking her before embracing her firmly. After a tense moment, he quickly peels himself from her form, his flushed face mere inches from her own as he continues his volley of questions.

“I really thought something bad happened to you!” he cries out, silvery eyebrows furrowed. Mc opened her mouth to explain but was interrupted once again.

“-and why didn’t ya answer my calls? I got so worried that I even called Asmo, and when he said that you weren’t with him, I totally freaked!” he says, his eyes wandering to inspect her body; still expecting her to be harmed in some way.

Mc pushes the babbling demon off of her as she explains, “I’m sorry, I had my D.D.D on silent, so I didn’t see any of your texts.”

As Mammon tumbles to the foot of her bed, Asmo quickly takes his place next to her.

“Mc! You can’t do that to us again! We really thought some other demon got to you!” he sobs, wrapping his arms around her , dramatically burying his face in the crook of her neck. Satan turns his back to them to make a call on his D.D.D, presumably to let the others know that Mc is safe and sound at home.

Overwhelmed by the sudden attention, Mc struggles to pry the weeping demon off of her. She looks to Belphie to help as he’s usually the brother that grants her the most freedom in situations like these. Meeting her gaze, Belphie moves forward, his facade of indifference faintly cracking.

“That doesn’t explain why you didn't wait for one of us to walk with you. You know you’re not supposed to go anywhere by yourself, Mc,” he says with a sigh, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to feign exasperation.

Mc glares at him; she half-expected him to be on her side, to scold Mammon and Asmo for their dramatic antics as he so often does.

“I’m sorry guys, I totally forgot to wait. I guess I just got so lost in thought that I didn’t realize I forgot about Mammon,” she admits, chuckling awkwardly at her rather anticlimactic explanation. Satan turns to face them as he places his D.D.D back into his pant pocket, frowning at her words.

“Well, it's a good thing that you at least went straight back to the House of Lamentation, because if we didn’t find you in your room, Lucifer would have asked Diavolo to form a royal search party for you,” he says, his hand cupping his chin thoughtfully.

“What?! A search party?” Mc exclaims, becoming more exasperated by the second. “Isn’t that a bit much? I mean… I was only unaccounted for for less than half an hour, right? Doesn’t that seem like overkill to you?” she questions, attempting to face Satan as Asmo and Mammon fuss over her.

Satan and Belpie, who normally jump at any chance to criticize Lucifer’s decisions, simply shook their heads.

“No, it’s understandable. We can’t afford to give you the benefit of the doubt anymore,” Satan sighs.

“Huh?” Mc says, completely vexed by his explanation.

Satan moves to place a hand on her head, his palm lovingly stroking her hair despite the troubled expression that lingers on his features.

“You better start working on your apology, because Lucifer and the others are on their way back now,” he says, only half-joking. “And from what he told me, Levi and Beel had been tearing up every inch of RAD’s campus looking for any trace of you.”

Before she can argue about the matter any further, the sound of 3 pairs of footsteps thunder against the hallway’s stairs and towards her room. The other brothers burst into her room, followed by another flurry of questions and quick embraces. After a while of explaining and apologizing, Mc finally managed to quell the fears of the brothers.

Later that afternoon, they all sat down to have dinner together, the brothers continuing to fuss over an annoyed Mc. Although this ridiculous incident hadn’t ended in complete disaster (aside from the scolding of a life-time from Lucifer), it still worried Mc. She could understand, to an extent, their protectiveness over her, especially after the most recent attempt on her life. However, she was only unresponsive for less than 30 minutes, and all of them had flown into a panic; it was completely out of character for most of the brothers.

She poked at her food, still sore about the lecturing she had received. Hopefully, this was the last incident for a long while. Little did she know, it would get much worse.

==================================

Thank you for reading part 1! Can you tell this is my first time ever writing fanfic? lmaoo

Let me know if you guys wanna see more, because regardless I plan on making 2-3 more chapters! Comments, suggestions, and reblogs are much appreciated!

Tags: @obey-mes-treasure

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years ago

Note

CQL-verse! The characters have the same age gaps between them as their actors and actresses! Wwx and Jyl are the same age, jc is 5 years younger than them. Lxc is 3 years younger than wwx&jyl and lwj is 3 years younger than him. Nmj is two years older than wwx&jyl and nhs is 8 years younger than him and the same age as lwj. (1/2)

Meng Yao is 2 years older than nhs and jzx is 2 years older than MY. I'm leaving the Wen Sibs out of this because otherwise WN would be the same age as wwx and WQ would be 4 years younger than him. But hey! If you want to go with that, go crazy! I was thinking more of Yunmeng Sibs focus, but I will be happy with anything! (2/2)

ao3

Untamed

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect to the point of death and war, but he had always had trouble hating sad and gentle Wen Ning.

Wen Ning was technically his peer – there were only two years between them in age – and therefore capable of the same sorts of responsibilities and duties towards righteousness as Nie Mingjue, meaning that he ought to hate him as much as all the rest. But at the same time, Wen Ning was only part of the main branch family indirectly, a ward of Wen Ruohan; he was constantly suppressed and even tormented by Wen Chao, the eldest son of that family. If anything, it seemed almost as if he’d been brought into the family just to act as the family’s scapegoat, the inferior copy that was so hapless that he made that self-indulgent hedonist Wen Chao appear somewhat competent in contrast.

Nie Mingjue couldn’t imagine treating any of his own cousins that way.

He and Wen Chao were often compared, both being about the same age, and their young brothers were of similar age as well, both of them only fourteen; this juxtaposition made sure that every single person in the cultivation world talk of them in the same breath. Nie Mingjue always came out the better in the comparison, and Wen Xu the same for his, which in the minds of most people balanced out, but which caused Wen Chao no end of rage. He knew he couldn’t take out his anger on the talented Wen Xu and so took out on poor Wen Ning instead.

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect.

He did not hate Wen Ning.

Wen Ning, who should not be here.

“Please,” Wen Ning said, nearly in tears, as he threw himself down to the floor in front of Nie Mingjue. He’d burst into the room in the inn Nie Mingjue was staying at, the guards that no sect leader could do without no matter what they wanted following close behind in alarm until Nie Mingjue had waved them off with a gesture; he’d been panting so hard that he’d only just now caught his breath. “Please help this useless older brother do one good thing with his life.”

Alarmed, Nie Mingjue reached out and caught Wen Ning by the shoulders, pulling him to stand and even forgetting himself enough to reach forward with a sleeve to dab away the tears staining the other man’s face.

“What is it?” he asked, feeling anxiety curdling in his gut. He’d spoken with Wen Ning before during the discussion conferences, both when he was younger and even, in a few stolen moments, after he became sect leader; he knew Wen Ning had a steady personality, if a weak one from all the bullying he endured, and that he was not given to unnecessary hysterics. If he could tolerate Wen Chao’s endless torment with a faint smile and a don’t worry sect leader Nie once you’re used to it it’s more funny than anything else, then what could make him act like this? “What is that you need help with? I do not understand.”

Wen Ning looked tired. He always had, his health had always been poor, but now it seemed worse than ever; there were circles under his eyes, and Nie Mingjue had no idea how he’d managed to get away from the Nightless City to come find him. The town he was currently in was close to the border the Qinghe Nie shared with Qishan Wen, but it was still an effort, especially for someone like Wen Ning. He might be a member of the Wen family by name, but his freedom was significantly curtailed, and it wasn’t only because he was sickly.

“My little sister is going to be attending the lectures at the Cloud Recesses,” Wen Ning said.

“The - Lan sect lectures?” Nie Mingjue repeated blankly. It was a stupid thing to say; of course it was the Lan sect’s lectures, who else would give lectures at the Cloud Recesses? And yet, at the same time – “The Wen sect hasn’t gone to them in generations.”

“Sect Leader Wen asked A-Qing to look for something,” Wen Ning said. “I don’t know what. He talks to her more than he talks to me, when she’s treating him with acupuncture and other such things – he only wants blood relations treating him now, so she’s passing along what she can do, the doctors all say she’s talented – he told her something, I think, but I don’t know what, he doesn’t talk to me…and she doesn’t talk to me, either.”

“She’s sixteen, they’re like that,” Nie Mingjue said, trying to offer comfort, but he didn’t like the sound of that – Wen Ruohan growing reliant on the medical skills of a teenager, talking with her as if she were an adult…it didn’t speak well to the Chief Cultivator’s state of mind. “So she’s going to go spy on them?”

“She is. And maybe more. There’s – there’s something back in the Nightless City, something Sect Leader Wen is refining in order to increase his power. Whatever it is, it’s powerful and evil.” Wen Ning looked paler than usual, somehow. “It was something that was kept in a cave near our village when we were younger, once. Sect Leader Wen took it away to study, and it made something go crazy, I got hurt, and my parents – anyway, it doesn’t matter. I can’t go near it without losing my senses, so I really don’t know anything about it. But I know that Sect Leader Wen only has a piece – and the Lan sect has another.”

Lan Xichen had never mentioned such a thing, but then again, he wasn’t really old enough that Nie Mingjue would expect him to know everything about his sect – he was after all a full five years younger than Nie Mingjue, three years younger than Wen Ning; he was still only seventeen, having only just graduated from his uncle’s classes the year before. He was only very technically sect leader, in the same way Nie Mingjue had only been technically sect leader after his father’s death, although unlike Lan Xichen Nie Mingjue had fought his way to step up to the task for real early on. He himself was only barely considered an adult at the age of twenty-two; it was no surprise that in the Lan sect, which had Lan Qiren to rely on, Lan Xichen might not know it all.

Or perhaps he knew, and simply didn’t say. Each sect was entitled to its secrets.

“What are you thinking?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“I’m thinking that my sister is constantly afraid for me, even though she’s younger than me,” Wen Ning said solemnly. “I’m thinking that she will break her own principles into pieces to protect me. I’m thinking that she’ll find whatever it is, or find a hint to it, and then Wen Chao will take his forces to burn the Cloud Recesses to the ground in search of it.”

Nie Mingjue could see that.

He didn’t want to, but he could.

“My brother is attending those lectures,” he said blankly. Nie Huaisang was there right now. He could be in danger – no, he would be in danger. Nie Huaisang wasn’t a good cultivator, and at fourteen, he was just a baby. Nie Mingjue had sent Meng Yao with him, nominally as his attendant, but in fact to get the benefit of the classes himself and also bully Nie Huaisang into actually learning something – he’d brought Meng Yao into the Nie sect after Jin Zixuan, full of guilt over how his father had treated a boy only two years his junior, had sent him a letter beseeching him for help following Meng Yao’s public and humiliating rejection from Jinlin Tower – but Meng Yao was only sixteen, of age with Wen Qing; what could he really do?

Moreover, sending Wen Qing and not Wen Xu, even though Wen Xu was the same age as Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji, indicated that Wen Ruohan didn’t want his more promising son to get involved in whatever it was that he was planning, or maybe in whatever consequences followed. If Wen Chao really were to try something violent, they couldn’t afford to have a weakness already there…

“I need to get A-Qing out of the Wen sect,” Wen Ning said, and Nie Mingjue turned to look at him in shock. “Permanently. I’ve begged her to go, but she won’t leave me, she won’t leave our family of the Dafan Wen, but she has to. Something bad is going to happen soon. I know it. I don’t mind trading my life for hers, but she has to live.”

“Is there any way you can go to the Cloud Recesses as well?” Nie Mingjue asked, his mind already racing. He’d long ago given up on helping Wen Ning because he knew the other man wouldn’t turn traitor against his family, being an upright and filial child, but if his family had reached such a depth of corruption as that, then it was only right to leave them behind. If Wen Ning was finally accepting that, maybe there was something he could do. “You’re sensitive to the – whatever it is. Right? Maybe Wen Qing can suggest bringing you around to help her find her way to it.”

“How would that help?”

“It gets you somewhere safe, while I can rescue Dafan Wen – without a threat to you or to them, your sister would have no reason to insist on staying,” Nie Mingjue said, though it wouldn’t be him, exactly, that did the rescue – he’d need a firm alibi lest Wen Ruohan use it as an excuse to start something with his Nie sect. He might have prepared for war as much as he could, but the Wen sect was still stronger; if war broke out, he needed to make sure that he had the moral high ground.

Luckily, Wei Wuxian, that walking calamity of a head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, had of late developed the habit of wandering over to visit various other sects, including Qinghe (and Nie Mingjue in specific), at his leisure, and no one ever would think to blame him for such a strange thing as a subsidiary sect of distant Wen sect cousins disappearing.

After all, Wei Wuxian had no reason to know or care about the Dafan Wen, and everyone knew he abjured politics completely, violently and repetitively, so as to make no mistake about anyone who might otherwise see him as competition for the Jiang sect’s true heir, Jiang Cheng. The five-year gap between their ages kept them from being compared – you couldn’t expect a child, and at fifteen Jiang Cheng was still very much a child, to keep up with an adult just turned twenty like Wei Wuxian – but there had always been whispers given everything with Cangse Sanren, and Wei Wuxian had had to work very hard to put a stop to them.

Wei Wuxian’s wandering habit had started back when he’d been trying to find Jiang Yanli a new fiancée to replace the engagement he’d broken by fighting with Jin Zixuan, however shameful it was for him to fight with a boy two years his junior. It was for that that he had come to Qinghe to meet Nie Mingjue, leading to them hitting it off as friends despite Nie Mingjue expressing that he had absolutely no interest in getting married to Jiang Yanli, or indeed to any nice young lady at all; then, in turn, Nie Mingjue had brought him to the Lan sect to meet Lan Xichen. They’d gotten along as well, although the most notable outcome of that visit had been little Lan Wangji developing a crush on his elder brother’s new friend while Wei Wuxian remained blissfully oblivious. His wanderings had continued even after Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan had found their way back to each other, affianced once again through their own choice rather than their parents’.

Said parents had not yet been informed of this new situation, as they were waiting for the right time to mention it. Or perhaps more accurately, the right situation to exploit with it…

Now, Nie Mingjue thought. Now was the time. It would work perfectly.

And not just as a distraction.

“Are you sure…?”

“I am,” Nie Mingjue said. “Whatever it is, Wen Ruohan must be kept from obtaining all of the pieces; he’s already too powerful, and more power will only make him more arrogant. I’ll speak with Lan Qiren. Once I take the Dafan Wen back to the Nie sect, your sister will be able to testify to whatever it is that she was asked to search for, which will give Lan Qiren the evidence he needs to get his sect’s approval for retaliatory measures. Moreover, using Wei Wuxian to help me will force Jiang Fengmian to support me as well; there’s no way he’d ever refuse to back him to the hilt.”

“The Jin sect –”

“Will join us,” Nie Mingjue said, thinking of Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan’s yet-to-be-announced engagement. Once Jin Guangshan realized that he would be pulled into the same boat as the rest of them whether he wanted to or not, any resistance he had would crumble like a structure made of sand being beaten down by the tide. “They won’t have a choice. Is there anything else I should know?”

“There’s a child,” Wen Ning said, biting his lips. “Around the same age as your brother or my sister, or maybe the Jiang sect heir, I don’t know, around that. He helps Sect Leader Wen with whatever he’s doing.”

“A child helps him?”

Nie Mingjue didn’t like the sound of that.

“I don’t know. Some secret his family knows, I think…his surname is Xue.”

Nie Mingjue frowned.

“I don’t know much about him,” Wen Ning added. “Only that he has some history with the Yueyang Chang clan. Bad history.”

“That’s a good start,” Nie Mingjue said. He realized that he hadn’t yet released Wen Ning’s shoulders, and gave them a small squeeze before doing so. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will do everything I can to help you.”

Wen Ning looked at him with admiration in his eyes, making Nie Mingjue feel a little hot under the collar.

“Thank you, Chifeng-zun,” he murmured, and Nie Mingjue shook his head.

“Call me by name,” he said, and tried to smile. “You’ll be here a lot in the future, if all goes well.”

Nie Mingjue hated the Wen sect, but he didn’t hate gentle and sad Wen Ning.

He didn’t hate him at all.

#mdzs #nie mingjue #wen ning #my fic #my fics #count your age #I know you said Yunmeng focus but this is what came out #sorry #full list of ages on the ao3 page

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apricotgojo · 4 years ago

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hello love! I got bored and thought of this. So it’s the readers bday and they like Adrien. Adrien like the reader and marinette hates that he does. So like reader is planning on throwing a party bc it’s their birthday so marinette decided to throw a party on the same day at the same time. And since reader is kinda new, everyone decided to go to Mari’s party. So that happens, but when Adrien gets to readers party, they’ve done gone batshit crazy, like screaming, crying, smashing things, idk just losing their shit. Not like in anger, they’re just really hurt by it. No hawk moth tho😩 hawkdaddy go on vacay or sum🤺🤺 Mk sorry this is long and it’s late and I’m kiiinndaaa drunk and in da feels anyway bye bye

HELLO ANON! SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT BUT HERE IT IS! I never thought that i would have to write about mean marinette but here i am LMAO. i hope you like it bb <33

Pairing: Adrien Agreste X Reader

Warnings: Swearing.

Tags: angst, Marinette is a bitch in this oops, alexa play pity party by melaine martinez.

“Love, Adrien.”

“Wow, that’s really cringey Adrien.”

“Shut up plagg, I need to confess to her some way or another.”

Adrien Agreste is sprawled out on his bed and he just finished writing a birthday card for you. Yes, it was quite cheesy but he decided that today was going to be the day he confesses his feelings towards you. He’s had his eye on you ever since your first day of school and you’ve both gotten closer to each other, flirting constantly but never making a move. Needless to say, he was head over heels for you and was too much of a pussy to ever admit it. But tonight was the night.

You invited him over to your house for your birthday party along with your other classmates and he didn’t even think twice to agree – especially since his dad is at a fashion expo in Spain. All he wanted was for you to have the best birthday party you could possibly have. You really meant a lot to him.

his thoughts disappear when all of a sudden his phone beeps.

‘Y/N’S PARTY WILL BE HELD AT MY PLACE SO WE CAN SURPRISE HER, DON’T MENTION ANYTHING TO HER. 7PM ! DON’T BE LATE! ~Marinette’

‘Sorry, can’t come tonight.’ You frowned as you stared at your phone, seeing a text from Marinette. You and her weren’t really that close to be honest but you still wished for her to come and have a good time. You sighed and plopped down on your bed. It’s your sweet 16th and you wanted it to be perfect. You hoped that enough people would show up. It was your first birthday here in Paris and although you haven’t been here for a while, you thought that you already made close connections with your classmates, especially a certain blond.

All you wanted was for him to show up mostly, maybe tonight you could make a move. Maybe tonight you could possibly hold his hand, maybe dance with him, maybe give him a kiss on his soft cheek or a small peck on the lips-

Your face heated up at that thought and a grin appeared on your face. You hugged your pillow and quietly squealed. Tonight was the night and nothing could possibly ruin it.

Or so you hoped.

Everywhere was decorated with fairy lights, balloons and glitter. Music was already playing and there were drinks and snacks for everyone to enjoy. You were wearing the outfit you’ve been planning for ages and you were sitting down, leg bouncing as you wait for people to arrive.

Did you get the time incorrect? you did mention to everyone that you’re meeting up at 7pm. It was 7:15.

Maybe they were running late? But how could it be that all of them were running late?

You furrow your eyebrows and grab your phone. You go on Instagram to see if anyone posted anything about their whereabouts.

Kim was live.

You click on it and see him walking through a crowd of people.

“Marinette, this party is amazing!” you hear him shout.

“Thanks Kim.” You hear her say.

Your jaw drops Anger starts bubbling inside of you.

Kim turns the phone up and shows Nino on the dj stand. He waves to the camera.

“Adrien! say hi to my live.” Adrien appears next to Kim. He was caught off guard. He smiles sheepishly and waves at the camera awkwardly.

Your phone drops out of your grasp and tears start rolling down your cheeks furiously.

Adrien was looking everywhere for you. it was already 8pm and he was wondering when you’d show up. He held your gift and note close to his chest, he wanted to personally give them to you.

“H-hey Adrien..” The voice of Marinette makes him turn around to face her.

“Marinette! Where’s the birthday girl?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

Marinette stares at him for a moment and nervously chuckles. “oh- well- she uh- she can’t make it!” He shrugs and laughs again. “did you get something to drink? We have pomegranate juice, peach lemonade, spr-“

“what do you mean she can’t make it? Why the hell is the party still going?” Adrien questions, looking around in disbelief.

“Adrien i-“

“Marinette, your plan is totally working, can’t believe everyone fell for- “ Alya stops speaking when she notices that Adrien is in front of her and purses her lips.

Adrien stares at Marinette for a moment, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head. “On her own birthday? Marinette, this is so not like you.” He was disgusted by her actions.

“Adrien wait!” She calls out. “I can explain.”

“I don’t know why you did this, or what the hell is wrong with you but this was really low. I’m out of here.” He glares at her before walking away from her.

You were out of control. You cried, you screamed, you threw everything you saw in front of your eyes until you fell on your knees, sobbing.

You couldn’t believe Marinette would do this, you couldn’t believe everyone would do this to you, especially Adrien.

You thought you’ve grown close to the people in your class but you were wrong. They didn’t show up to your birthday party, they lied to you. Your heart was broken.

You held your knees close to your chest as the music lowly played behind you. It was mostly drawn out by your sobs and sniffles.

You hear footsteps approaching you and you look up, with red puffy eyes and see a familiar blond through your blurry vision.

It was Adrien. You look away and sob even harder at the thought of him seeing you like this, with everything destroyed around you. Why did he come here? Did he want to taunt you further?

He kneels down next to you and rubs your shoulder, moving you to his chest and causing you to nuzzle your face there.

“I hate this. I hate today, I hate Marinette.” You mumble. Maybe hate was a strong word, but you didn’t care at that moment.

You look up at him. “Why did you come here Adrien? Do you want to make me feel even more embarrassed than I already am?” You croak out.

He shakes his head. “Please, I swear to you Marinette told me that your birthday party was moved to her place, she told everyone that.” He sighs and shows you his phone so you could see the message Marinette sent him.

“Fucking bitch!” You exclaim and hide your face in your hands again.

“Hey, hey. I got here as soon as I found out she was lying. All I wanted was to celebrate your birthday and make you happy” He says quietly. “I’m so fucking sorry that this happened.” He says and rests his head against yours in a comforting manner.

You look up at him and wipe your eyes, sniffling. “Well, there’s nothing I can do now. It’s ruined.” You mumble and sigh. “I thought Marinette was my friend you know?” You mutter.

“I know.” Adrien nods and looks down. He stares at the card in his hand and bites his lip, his heart racing at the thought of giving this to you. “Maybe this will make you feel better.” He says, a small smile twitching on his lips as he hands you the envelope.

You widen your eyes and look up at him as if hesitant to open it. You open it though and you begin to read it.

Ever since the first time I saw you, you absolutely took my breath away. Ever since the day I first saw you, I thought to myself that I have to get to know you better. I did. And that may have been one of the best decisions of my life. You have a beautiful mind, a beautiful soul and a beautiful heart. To be honest, I think I keep falling for you every day. Happy birthday Ma belle, i hope you have the best one yet.

Love, Adrien.

Tears start rolling down your cheeks again, but this time it was because of his sweet words. Your heart finally felt whole.

You look up at him with glistening eyes and give him a wobbly smile.

He smiles sheepishly at you. “Will you go on a date with me?” He asks.

You didn’t even answer, you just leaned in and placed your lips on his.

It was small, but you felt fireworks burst inside of you.

You pull away and watch him flutter his eyes at you, his cheeks glowing red.

“Does that answer your question?” You ask.

He chuckles and kisses you again.

Maybe your birthday wasn’t so bad after all.

#adrien agreste #adrien agreste x reader #chat noir #chat noir x reader #mlb #miraculous ladybug

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slytherwrites · 3 years ago

Text

Dedicated Interest - pt 1

Costume Innovation

The moment when a Class 1A member became interested in you would be days into the second year of school when you actually approached them after the second year lunch. With your notepad in hand and confidence spurred on from Power Loader himself supporting the redesigns, you head towards your target: Momo Yaoyorozu.

You’ve seen her fight—you’ve seen all of the future heroes fight. Support Class students are encouraged to watch Hero Course students in order to gain inspiration. Over the winter break, something in you had the urge to fix many of the hero students’ costumes—particularly the ones in Class 1A. They seemed to need your help the most.

The cafeteria is massive. But the tall girl isn’t hard to spot. With her long, black hair and confident, but charming voice, you’re able to locate her pretty easily. Getting her away from the girls she’s walked in with is the hard part.

But you don’t stop. In fact, you just go for it. It’s now or never, afterall.

“Yaoyorozu,” you ask, “can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Oh yeah, sure!” She replies, “don’t wait up for me guys. I’ll be there shortly!”

You lead her out into the hallway. The noise of the cafeteria can still be heard, but it’s muted enough so you two can clearly hear each other.

“Have we met before..?”

“Not formally,” you reply, “I’m one of the Support Class students, L/N Y/N. I was watching a bunch of the students compete and I was inspired to do costume redesigns.”

You pass her the notepad. A barebones sketch of her is underneath a more detailed drawing of your suggested hero outfit. With inspiration from both her summer and winter costume, it gives more strategic thought to her hero costume than there was before. There is an open back with an easily detachable front that can optionally be worn with a cloak. Elbow pads and knee pads provide joint protection, as well as shoes that’ll support her instead of the heeled boots she’d been fighting in. The cutouts are strategically placed, with spots on her thighs, lower legs, back and stomach. There still is an element of modesty, as her breasts aren’t halfway out all the time anymore and it’s all in her original color scheme.

“This is…” She pauses. You can’t tell what’s on her mind.

“Sorry if I overstepped my boundaries, I promise not to bother you anymore!”

“This is ingenious!” Momo replies, “Tell me, when do you think you could have this made?”

“Oh umm… I would have to get you measurements and source the materials, but that shouldn't take too long. A week, maybe two tops? Nothing new’s being innovated, it’s just a matter of taking it from my notes to an actual thing…”

“Sounds great.” She takes the pencil you keep clipped on your notepad and writes down her number, “I need to get to lunch but I’m free this afternoon for measurements. Text me!”

“I will!” You take the notebook, clutching it against your chest. Yaoyorozu was the right person to start with.

===

You immediately added Yaoyorozu’s number after lunch and now you’re getting a ping from it.

Yaoyorozu: Hey, I’m free anytime from 4:30-6:30pm. What time works best for you?

You look at your clock now. 4:30’s coming up soon. A number of your classmates are still in the 2-H Workshop, but it isn’t so busy that you wouldn’t bring in another person—that’s only when Hatsume’s working, as she’s a safety hazard in and of herself.

Y/N: Now’s fine! I’m in the 2-H workshop. It’s in the east wing.

The chatter of machinery and the lyrics to some pop song trail along in the background. You’ve mostly tuned it out, so Yaoyorozu has to tap on your shoulder to get your attention.

“Y/N?” Her calling you by your first name gets you out of your daze and you reply, “Oh, hi Yaoyorozu!”

You turn to face her. A bit of heat heads to your face as you see Yaoyorozu’s skin tight outfit. She certainly isn’t uncomfortable in her skin.

“You like my outfit? It’s designer—part of Mount Lady’s recently dropped workout line.” She replies, “I thought I’d wear something closer to my skin in order to get proper measurements done.”

“Oh yeah. That’s smart. Let me grab my tailor’s tape and a sticky note!” You rummage through your school bag for spare supplies, pulling it out and pushing your classwork aside, “Here it is! Now we’ll start from the top down, getting all of the measurements and then you can be on your way.”

“Sounds perfect.” Momo stands straight, arms and legs shoulder width apart. She’s obviously done this before.

As you hum along to the music, Momo watches you. You don’t notice, but she stares at you, dedicating every little detail to memory. Something in her wants to replicate everything you have for herself. Though, as you stand up and put your tape measurer down, she coughs and clears her mind of it’s racing thoughts.

“So… what were you working on?”

“Schoolwork, nothing much.” You admit, “Just some back to school safety briefings—as if most of us didn’t come in during the winter to continue our projects. You probably don’t want to hear about it.”

Momo proves you wrong, “What other projects do you have going on?”

“Oh uh… well, Power Loader’s gave us a robotics project to work on and I’ve been specializing in costumes so I’ve been trying to create a list of heroes and hero students to make improved costumes on. You’re the first I’ve actually been able to do hands-on work for though… That’s for this, by the way!”

“How could I refuse?” Momo asks, “Your improvements and overall design is better than what I could’ve come up with on my own.”

“I guess…”

“May I ask,” Momo says, “How did you come up with this design?”

“Mostly by watching your trainings, as well as current pro hero costume trends.” You repsponds, “Most female pro heroes have their legs exposed in some capacity, but don’t have any sort of knee protection—which I think is stupid. And if we do knee protection, we need elbow protection. And I’d advocate for more coverage in order to have protective plating underneath the suit, but since you need your skin out, I had to limit it to specific areas. And the cloak came really handy for that! Plus I could have it cover your back in order to let you conceal items you create and have you… I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“No, no! It’s fine.” Momo replies, “I find this fascinating. Please continue!”

“Well… I’ve noticed that in a pinch that you’ll lose your top and then have to make yourself new clothes. But since your shirt is magnetic and can be put back together, you can save… materials as well as use that space for other things.” You continue with a laugh at yourself, “I don’t really understand how your quirk works, but I hope this costume will work…”

“I convert fat lipids into other atoms and release them from my skin.” Momo explains, “but I think your idea will work.”

“Let’s see.” You reply, “Well, I think that’s all I need from you. Thanks for sticking around and listening to my rambling, Yaoyorozu.”

“Call me Yaomomo. My friends do, anyway.” She tells you, “Text me anytime!”

“Oh uh, cool.” You tell her, “I will.”

She eventually leaves you to your devices, but you don’t leave her thoughts. In fact, you are steadily taking up a large portion of her thoughts as she contacts her house staff to start construction on a wing in the manor to give you the biggest, best laboratory possible.

#yandere class 1a #yandere mha #yandere bnha #yandere momo yaoyorozu

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1kook · 4 years ago

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dreamy

—pjm x (f) reader

summary; You try to not let it get to you, but Jimin is so cool and you want him to be your boyfriend so bad. warnings; ANGST lol, fwb, reader is very :(( rating; mature (18+) bc tiny smut lol misc; small smut scene, a happy ending <3 wc; 2.5k

notes; i have to post on #JIMIN’s bday or else i cannot live with myself anyway here’s me trying to fit an entire novella plot line in less than 5k words clap for me except maybe don't bc its not proofread anyway hbd jimin <3

Jimin is a nice guy, but you doubt he’d make a nice boyfriend. He fucks you hard and fast, just as you like, but hardly goes out of his way to sprinkle in any other requests. He’s got a one track mind, doesn’t dwell too long on what you say or how you’re feeling. Doesn’t matter because he’s just supposed to be a fuck buddy, the hot guy you met at a party, so you don’t let it phase you. But, well. Jimin is dreamy.

Sometimes he holds your hand while he eats you out and it sends your thoughts into a frenzy, makes your heart pound a little too fast to brush it off as just arousal. He’s got this gorgeous smile, plush lips framing pearly teeth, and when he flashes it your way, it makes your knees weak. Tells you you’re pretty when he picks you up from class, always holds your hand on the way to his place for your routine fuck. Cute and nice like an angel, but just like an angel, he hardly gives a shit about anyone’s feelings but his own.

He laughs when you ask him to hang out that weekend.

“What, like a date?” he snorts, bare chest glistening from his post-fuck exertion. You're pressed against his side now, circling his pretty brown nipple with your finger. “That’s corny.”

You try to not let it get to you, but Jimin is so cool and you want him to be your boyfriend so bad. “Yeah, silly right,” you murmur, ear pressed to his heart. It’s calming and soothing, a slow thrum that contrasts with your own racing heart.

He’s not one for dates or for romantic things like that. But neither is he some player, a cheater, a two-timer. You can count the number of times he’s slept with someone who wasn’t you in your weird fuck buddy relationship, and all four of those had been when you first started sleeping together and only when you had been out of town. You’re no saint either, so you try to understand. He was just horny, liked getting his dick wet, and sometimes he couldn’t wait for you. Understandable, you tell yourself, but your heart hurts a little bit when he begins snoring without really answering your question.

See the thing is, you really like Jimin. It’s been a little over a year now since you’ve met, so you’ve had plenty of time to learn all about him. He doesn’t like pancakes for breakfast, prefers them for lunch actually, and laughs when you tell him that’s weird. He’s got this really dorky laugh, something between a bell and a whistle— it depends on the situation. Sometimes, Jimin likes when you play with his hair, and other times he doesn’t. He’s a sweet boy, you know he is, so why won’t he settle down?

You hate to attribute it to some past trauma, some “my girlfriend broke my heart when I was seventeen” mess, but the more time that passes you begin to believe it’s true. Jimin was a tough nut to crack, and the longer this drags on, the longer he ignores your feelings, you begin to doubt you will ever see them fulfilled.

Maybe you should end this now before it’s too late.

You don’t stay for breakfast the next morning, simply kiss him goodbye at the door like always. He’s older than you, about two years, so he doesn’t go to school anymore, just chills at home all weekend. “I’ll see you soon?” he grins, low-lidded eyes tracking the movement of your mouth as you bid him adieu. You never give him a solid response, figure a guy like Jimin will forget about you soon enough.

Then, suddenly, it’s been two weeks and he doesn’t reach out. Yeah it hurts, but it’s better than having confessed to him and losing him all at once. You’d rather this ending than the one where he terribly rejects you, breaks your heart into a million pieces, and throws you away. Still, it hurts.

Jimin was so cool. He was smart and confident, had a snappy sort of attitude that he liked to use now and then. He could be mean in bed, lick your cunt until you cried and call you a stupid girl when he wanted to. But that same tongue had snapped at a guy who was trying to pressure you into bed with him at a party. That first night you met, where you had sillily followed him home after his dashing intervention, you had thought it would be nothing more. Just a fling, just a fuck.

But then he was in your bed and in your head, twinkling eyes and cocky grin trailing after you everyday. He was so pretty and so suave, made you feel good even when he was being mean. But you suppose most cocky men like Jimin are like that. They know they don’t disappoint, even when they’re not really trying.

Jimin doesn’t call or text. You don’t see his car pull up outside your campus anymore. He’s gone and that’s that. You cry a little (see: a lot) and pretend you’re over him. You definitely don’t think about his soft laughter or his hands on your chest. Nope.

So that ends.

Or so you think.

Your friends say you’re mopey and sad, too down for someone who wasn’t even your boyfriend. It’s true, which sucks, but they honor your admittance by taking you out to a bar that night. It’s supposed to be chill and relaxing, just some drinks with the girls to soothe your aching heart. But the name of the bar reminds you of something, of someone you can’t reach anymore, and you don’t even know why. You’ve never been here before, never even knew this place existed. But everything about it brings you back to Jimin, like you’re in his space now, and you’re unsure why.

It reminds you of his laugh, his smile, to the point you swear you can hear it, right beside you, down the bar, to your left—

He waves.

There’s this look he used to give you every time he picked you up from your last class, this mix between adoration and lust that made your skin tingle with excitement. It’s not there now, in fact, it’s replaced with the complete opposite. It’s, like, the meanest look he can muster, something akin to a scowl. He smiles, but it’s so plastic-y and fake, it makes your head hurt. He’s so obviously unimpressed with you, probably because you ghosted him before he could ghost you. Maybe his pride is hurt and looking at you grosses him out. Maybe he just hates you.

Either way, eleven pm rolls around and you’re crying in the bathroom. Your friends are out on the floor having fun and singing karaoke. They think you’ve gone inside because you got your period, because that’s what you’ve told them. You don’t know how to explain that your ex who isn’t really your ex is out there looking at you like you’re a piece of gum stuck under his shoe. They’ve never even met Jimin. Why? Because he wasn’t your boyfriend. Who meets their friend’s fuck buddy? No one.

You sniffle, press a balled up tissue against your eyes in a feeble attempt to save your makeup. The bar isn’t that small, but neither is it huge. There’s only a few bathrooms in the back, and you’ve been hogging one of them for some time now. Someone knocks on the door, and you don’t even get the chance to ward them off before the crappy knob jingles and the door bursts open.

“Come on,” he grumbles, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta piss—“

He pauses, meets your eye through the mirror in surprise. “I’m sorry,” you blubber, hurriedly washing your hands in an effort to avoid his gaze. Jimin lingers at the door, which has long since fallen shut, and watches you with the eyes of a hawk. Your hands tremble and shake, fumble over the towel dispenser three times before you’re hastily making your escape. “Sorry,” you mutter again, head downcast as you move around him for the door.

Just as it cracks open, the music from outside filtering in, he slams it shut with a flat palm. You flinch, close in on yourself as he steps behind you. “What’re you doing here, doll?” he murmurs, deep yet careful. Tentative. “You don’t like bars.”

You know you don’t like bars. You didn’t know he knew that. “I’m with some friends,” you explain, jump when a hand touches your shoulder. “I— I’ll leave soon.”

A second attempt for the door is thwarted by Jimin. “Don’t,” he startles, breath heavy against your ear. “Don’t leave again…” he sighs, forehead against your shoulder. And then, quietly, “why did you leave me?”

Your heart syncs up with the music outside, thunders in your ears as you purse your lips. You don’t want to talk about it now, don’t want to confess to these emotions that drown you. Especially not when he’ll never understand nor will he ever care. It’s best to leave it as is, you convince yourself, slowly shrugging him off.

“We don’t want the same things,” you reply, eyes burning with the need to cry like a baby. But it’ll weaken your argument, make you look like the sentimental girl you know he won’t like. “It wouldn’t work anyway.”

The hand on your shoulder jerks you around, makes a gasp catch in your throat when he crowds you against the door. He’s got that same glare on from before, the one he had sent you across the bar earlier, and it makes your lower lip tremble when it’s this close. “You never asked me what I wanted,” he hisses.

It is then that you realize it isn't anger or disgust, but frustration that paints his features. It’s pure, unadulterated confusion and distress on his pretty face, furrowed brows and narrowed eyes pointed your way. You don’t know what it means, don’t know what he wants. “I,” you choke, weakly covering your face with your hand before he can see you crumble. “I just wanted you.”

Jimin deflates, steps closer until his body is pressed against yours, hands on your shoulders. “And you have me, doll,” he murmurs, bumps his nose against yours. “Always have.”

You shake your head, choke on a sob that bubbles up your throat. “No, not like that,” you stress, losing yourself in the emotions you spent so much time bottling up. “I wanted more.”

Jimin shushes you, guides your head into the crook of his neck where you paint his skin in dark mascara tears. “Is this about the date?” he sighs, patting your head gently.

“It’s more than just the date,” you cry, fists curling into the material of his shirt until it rumples beyond repair. He doesn’t understand.

Jimin nods, let’s you cry and sob until you’re feeling better and someone else is pounding at the door, yelling at you two to get a proper room. You don’t want a room, you only want his heart.

He takes you home again, helps you out of your shoes at the door because you’re still sensitive and quiver like a leaf when you walk. His bedroom is familiar, smells like him and his detergent. You miss it so much, want to savor it once more. Something in your gut says this is the last time, this is just Jimin getting one last fuck out of you before he really abandons you.

So you cry when he sits down on the edge of the bed. He hasn’t even said anything, hasn’t even taken his socks off yet, but you’re already a mess.

And of course he’s there to catch you, tugs you between his legs to look up at you as if you’ve hung the stars in the sky. “Don’t cry,” he whispers, reaching up to brush away your tears. But it’s not your fault that he looks like that right before he’s going to break your heart.

He’s so cool, even when you’re falling apart in his hands. “You don’t want me,” you sniffle, let him guide you onto his lap. “You just want to fuck and that’s it.”

Jimin leans his forehead against yours, warm breath washing over your skin. “I never said that,” he murmurs. “We’ve been over this.”

You huff. “Well you never said you did either,” you snap, rubbing at your eyes.

You cry and cry some more, until your sobs subside and you’re left with the hiccups afterwards. Jimin maneuvers you beside him, lets your hair spill across the sheets as he lays you down. They smell just like him, make your head spin when he kisses your cheek softly. “I want you,” he confesses. “I want this.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No, you don’t,” you sniff, but you’re not so sure. It’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the longest. Hearing him say otherwise sounds weird, even if he’s saying what you want to hear. “You don’t.”

Jimin catches your hand in his, pins it to the mattress. “I want you to be mine,” he adds, swallows your cries of denial with his lips. He kisses softly, and for the first time, it feels like he’s paying attention to you. Not your body or your lust, but your heart. “Had me feeling like shit when you didn’t come back. Like I lost something big.”

You still cry when he kisses down your neck, over your chest. His hands pull your clothes off, carefully like you’re a present for him to unwrap. Those plush lips you love so much drown you in kisses, over your tummy and your mound, until they’re buried between your cunt. “You’re mine,” he husks out, hand entwined with yours.

His eyes are dark from down there, long lashes blinking up at you as he dips his tongue in the places you crave him most. It brings you to a shuddering end, has you whimpering his name into the empty air until your toes are curling and you’re coming against his mouth. Jimin has never shied away from you, and doesn’t know, sits up with a hazy look in his eyes as he wipes his face with the back of his hand.

Jimin wastes no time undressing, pushes off that sexy jacket until his lithe body is coming into view, thick thighs and lean abdomen. He slides right into you, holds your knees to your chest as he fucks you like never before. It’s slow and sensual, makes you shiver when he says your name in that low register of his. “Don’t leave again,” he whimpers, cock throbbing between your walls. He’s desperate today, ruts like you’ll slip right between his fingertips. It’s funny because you're the same way, clinging onto his shoulders until you’re practically glued together.

You come and so does Jimin. He pants against your ear, feels so warm and heavy on top of you. He doesn’t say much more that night, just plays with your hair. But he asks you on a date, mentions something about a carnival. “Yes,” you respond right away, because, well.

Jimin was dreamy. Maybe he’d be a good boyfriend.

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jimin smut #park jimin smut #pjm #park jimin #jimin x reader #jimin x reader smut #park jimin x reader #park jimin x reader smut #bts smut #bangtan smut #mine

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rmnamjoons · 4 years ago

Text

Taking Flight [KNJ Oneshot]

➳ summary: More than a decade after the alien invasion that wiped out most of the planet, you and Namjoon are both in the Pilot Cadet Corps, training for if the alien attackers ever come back. What begins as a playful rivalry between two overachievers develops into a deep friendship and emotional bond, but when the aliens suddenly return and you and Namjoon are separated, you find out just what you’re willing to do to get back to him.

➳ pairing: pilot!Namjoon x pilot!reader

➳ genre: smut, sci fi au, post apocalypse au, alien invasion au, rivals to friends to lovers

➳ word count: 15.2k

➳ read on ao3, link to my masterlist

➳ tags: smut, reunion sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, emotional loving sex, soft dom namjoon, dirty talk (no degradation), rivals to friends to lovers, sexually charged fight/sparring scene when they’re rivals, previously seemingly unrequited love/mutual pining, shower sex, multiple positions, namjoon is needy and so in love

➳ warnings: unnamed character death/death mention, blood mention, injury mention/vague description

➳ a/n: I know this is kind of a niche genre for smut fics; I primarily wrote this for myself, and I definitely had fun and like what I came up with! What’s the point of fanfiction anyway, if not to have fun? Also, this takes place over a few years, and I tried to portray how Namjoon was feral and angry when he was younger but is now a loving gentle giant. Enjoy!

Everybody lost someone in the attacks that killed most of the planet. Friends. Family. Partners. You had lost everything and everyone, like most people who’d lived in the cities that no longer had names — what once had been centers of commerce, tourism, and civilization were now nothing more than craters, and with so few left who remembered them, what they’d once been were now lost to time.

You'd only survived by chance, really. You and your family had been in a tunnel leaving the city, on foot like everyone else, and when everything had turned to chaos, you’d gotten lost from your parents and sister. You still remembered the way people screamed and ran through the tunnel, their voices echoing harshly off the cement walls. You’d spotted someone hiding off to the side in a utility room in the tunnel, and when the blast hit the city center, that person had made you hide in the room too, their body shielding yours from the hellfire, melting around you.

You were five years old then. You were pretty sure your sister had been eight. You couldn’t remember what your parents or sister looked like, or your house, or where you’d gone to school, other than vague flashes and shapes of people who’d once been your whole world. All you’d had with you were the clothes on your back, and even those had been taken away once you’d gotten somewhere safe and been given something clean to change into.

After the ships fell and surviving aliens left, it had taken years to clear the rubble and start over. The attacks that changed and destroyed everything had also been a gift, or so they now preached, in which humanity was able to grow, learn, and become united. The religions and cults who now worshiped the alien attackers believed humanity had deserved extermination, but you liked the more academic approach to the alien race’s lessons: the technology humans had been able to reverse engineer from their fallen ships.

One of the many ways humanity had advanced in the last few years was flight technology. Planes were faster, turned sharper, could go farther, burned cleaner energy. The one thing everyone seemed to agree on was how important Earth’s planes had been in beating them, so that was where all the technology and progress was focused now.

You loved planes and flying, you always had, but the real reason you wanted to be a pilot, you held much closer to your chest: your entire life, you always felt like the attacks when you were young were just the beginning. Like an unhealthy obsession or open wound, it was all you could think about sometimes, what drove your every decision, what led you to the Pilot Cadet Corps. You wanted to be part of the team that took them down if they ever came back. You wanted to be ready.

You were eighteen when you’d joined the Corps. You’d jumped on that opportunity the first moment you were able, without so much as a second glance back at what you left behind. You’d been adopted fairly soon after the attacks, but your adopted parents never felt much like family.

The first full year of Corps was bootcamp. Bunk rooms were co-ed, and every moment of your lives was dictated down to the second. You woke up at six in the morning and ran laps around the track. You had as much free time as you earned between whenever you finished your laps and when breakfast started at seven: the faster you ran, the more free time you got.

Eight to noon was physical training. After lunch was different depending on the day: three days a week you had mental training for whatever field you were going into, mostly flight simulation for the pilots. Another day was more combat training, and the last was an alternate, for first aid, written tests, marksmanship, and other courses along those lines. After that you had more physical training, like sparring and hand-to-hand combat, then dinner, then free time. Lights out was strictly at ten-thirty every night, and then you’d start it all over again the next day.

Now, you stood in line with the other cadets training to be pilots, waiting to hear your class ranks. Every month, they would announce a ranking of all cadets, a score averaged in test results, simulator scores, and overall performance. The better you ranked, the better your placement once you graduated.

“Third place, Park. Eighty-nine point nine,” the sergeant read off, making a small boy a few rows away from you puff up his chest in pride. You weren’t sure why anyone would feel proud of not getting an A, but you pushed that thought away.

You swallowed hard, holding your breath. There were only two spots left, and if you’d scored higher than Park, that meant you got an A and were either in second or first place out of the whole class. You didn’t know everyone’s names yet, so you weren’t sure who you were competing with.

“Second place, Y/L/N. Ninety-five point two.”

You heard the impressed murmur of others in the class before all of them were silenced by a firm look from the sergeant. Your heart sank, your hands curling into tight fists. Second place? You’d been so sure before now that you were working harder than all the other cadets. You were smarter than them, faster, more focused. Who the fuck had beaten you?

“First place, Kim. Ninety-five point three.”

Your brow furrowed. You weren’t sure who this Kim was, but you set your jaw, becoming determined to learn everything about them so you could beat them. Whatever their weaknesses were, you’d find them and exploit them.

You snuck a glance around you, trying to figure out who Kim was, and nearly jumped out of your skin when the tall boy next to you made eye contact with you, raising one eyebrow in the most smug, cocky, asshole-ish look you’d ever seen. That one singular eyebrow quirk, the corner of his lip curling up barely noticeably, all of it made you want to seethe and strangle him.

You’d noticed this man before, but had never thought much of him. He was taller than all the other men, but he hadn’t come off as particularly smart or extraordinary. This guy was the one who’d beaten you?

Now that you looked at him, you noticed he was definitely very muscular. Had he beaten your score through his strength? You could work harder at weight lifting and beat him. Were his test scores perfect? You could make yourself study even more.

Whatever it was that made him first place, you’d find out and beat him.

II.

In the following weeks, you began to wonder how you’d ever missed Kim Namjoon.

You and Namjoon both worked harder than everyone else. You both trained longer, started earlier in the morning and kept going until you were the last ones left. You both pushed yourselves harder than all of your other classmates, academically and physically. Before he was placed first in the class, you hadn’t even noticed him, but now he was the bane of your existence, and you existed only to beat him and come out on top.

You were faster and more agile, but Namjoon was by far stronger. You almost wanted to dispute the scoring system; what use was strength for a pilot? You weren’t soldiers. He needed fast reflexes and precision, not fighting skills or the ability to deadlift two hundred pounds. Was he planning on picking up planes and throwing them at the alien ships? It was so stupid.

The second month of bootcamp, you were the top of the class, and Namjoon was second place now. You smiled smugly to yourself and kept your eyes focused forward, staying perfectly at attention like the other cadets, but you could feel his eyes on you and almost sense his focused anger, that same emotion you’d felt when he’d first beaten you.

After the ranking announcements, you went to combat training in the gym, but your instructor called out both your name and Namjoon’s before you could even get started.

“I want the two of you to spar,” the instructor said as the two of you ran up. “No rules, just fighting. You can use boxing, wrestling, martial arts, whatever you want — just don’t kill each other.”

You narrowed your eyes at Namjoon, almost expecting him to refuse to fight you, for being a girl. Besides occasional glares, the two of you had never so much as said a word to each other, but you figured smug alpha male assholes were all the same.

But instead, Namjoon smiled and said, “All right.” He almost seemed eager to get in the ring and teach you a lesson.

Now, you eyed him from across the ring, how he was watching you with a smug little smirk as he wrapped his knuckles.

“To win, pin the other person’s back to the mat for five full seconds,” your instructor said carefully. “Their back has to fully touch the ground, not just shoulders. They don’t have to be conscious to be pinned.”

You and Namjoon made eye contact at that.

“Whoever wins doesn’t have to run laps next week. Loser runs double laps before eating. You both ready?”

You and Namjoon ended up drawing a crowd of spectators.

The moment the instructor said start, you ran, jumped, and wrapped your legs around his head, twisting and throwing him to the ground so that he was on his back and you stood over his head, smirking down at his stupid surprised face.

He’d hit the mat hard, the breath completely knocked out of him. A few people in the crowd murmured quietly to themselves and quietly asked each other if the fight was already over. You let out a shaky breath, letting yourself feel proud for a split second as you glanced at the spectators, but before you could register what was happening, Namjoon grabbed you by both your legs, making you twist and fall hard on your back, too.

You tried to crawl away from him, but he just pulled you under him by your legs, climbing on top of you and trying to hold you down with his hands. You arched your back as high as you could, touching the mat only with your shoulders and ass as Namjoon fought to grab your wrists. He was on top of you, straddling your abdomen and trying to keep you down without actually touching your chest, and you watched him bite his lip and heard him growl as he focused on not getting hit while you thrashed beneath him.

You brought your leg up and kneed his kidney as hard as you could, making him groan before moving back to pin your legs down too. You could now easily keep your back fully off the mat, but he was straddling you much lower now, bending over you and still trying to grab your arms. This close, you could smell him, his sweat and masculine scent mixed with the cheap soap you all were given, and you had to push aside the fact you kind of liked the way he smelled.

You were panting hard, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each deep breath. You watched Namjoon as he glanced down at your breasts, before his eyes snapped back up at your face, his eyes wide as if he were surprised he’d let himself look.

“Having fun?” you teased, smirking up at him.

“Tons,” he growled, finally catching one of your hands and pinning it down by your wrist.

You hooked your leg up as far as you could, wrapping it around him and using his close proximity to your advantage. This seemed to catch Namjoon very off guard, and you felt more than heard him make a noise in surprise as you essentially embraced him, not giving him any space to move or do anything as you pulled your hand free and wrapped all your limbs around him, hanging off of him like a leach.

Namjoon sat back on his knees, and you held onto him, your legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders, waiting for your moment to use his weight against him and throw him on his back. He was squirming and wearing himself out, while you just squeezed him, hard enough you heard something in him crack.

“What are you doing?” he grumbled, trying to pry you off of him. Before you could answer, he grabbed you by your hair and jerked your head backwards, making you gasp and cry out. He started to force you off by getting his hands between your bodies, but you surprised him, grabbing his throat with both hands and squeezing.

Namjoon forcefully brought his hands down on your arms, bending them so that you let go of his neck, and now you were much closer to his face, nearly nose to nose as he still sat there on his knees with you hanging off of him. He held your wrists with both hands now as you tried to struggle free from him, and when you realized you couldn’t, you twisted one wrist, bringing his hand up to your mouth and biting down as hard as you could on the meat of his thumb.

He yelped and let go of you, but before you could use the moment to your advantage, he grabbed you and pushed you off of him, throwing you down away from him while he scrambled back and looked at his hand.

Your body bounced as you hit the mat, rolling a few times until you slammed against the edge of the ring. Namjoon was back on you before you could react, and you felt him behind you, trying to roll you over so he could pin you down on your back again. You brought your head back hard and connected with his nose, making him jump back again.

When you looked back at him, Namjoon was standing across the ring, holding his nose and glaring at you as you jumped to your feet too.

You circled each other for a moment, both closely watching the other’s every move like prey.

His nose was bleeding heavily, both of you out of breath and covered in sweat. You were pretty sure you had a bruised rib from him throwing you, your lungs burning from exertion from the fight. Everyone who’d been in the gym was now watching, none of them speaking as the two of you circled each other.

You ran at each other at the same time, Namjoon throwing a swing that you easily ducked. While his momentum was off, you punched him hard in the stomach, making him bend over in pain.

He was being sloppy, maybe distracted from his pain and anger, or maybe he was just more of a big clumsy oaf who relied on strength alone than you’d thought. You knew he was smart based on his test scores, but none of that appeared to translate to agility or finesse. He was fighting clumsy and angry, but you only felt more focused now, catching yourself smiling as you almost enjoyed yourself.

When you tried to strike him again, moving to hit your elbow between his shoulders while he was bent over, he turned and reached up, grabbing your neck with both hands. You broke his hold easily, and used that moment to bring your hand up and smack his injured nose.

Namjoon groaned in pain, holding his nose again. You grabbed his free hand, twisting it until he turned around and fell to his knees, yelling in pain, his arm bent painfully behind his back. You now stood behind him, Namjoon unable to move unless he wanted you to break or dislocate his arm, you on your feet with him on his knees.

“Do you forfeit?” you said, pulling his arm up another inch and making him hiss in pain. You could see how much he was sweating and panting, and ignored the way it sent a shiver of lust through you.

“You play dirty,” he seethed. Just standing close to him, you could feel the way heat radiated off of him. You’d noticed before that he was a sweaty guy, but now he was shining with it.

“I seem to remember being told that there were no rules for this fight,” you said, smiling proudly to yourself as you held the large man in place with one hand.

Instead of responding, Namjoon threw himself backwards into you, knocking you off your feet. You were on your back now and he was on his back on top of you, pinning you there. He had to have at least pulled his arm out of socket doing that move, and his body tensed from the pain, but he didn’t stop.

Namjoon pushed down with his shoulders as hard as he could, arching his back and standing up on his feet, bending his legs to put even more weight on just his shoulders to trap you there under him. You were crushed by him, barely able to breathe, let alone keep yourself fully off the mat.

He was so big and heavy, his shoulders wide enough to pin your arms down. You did the only thing you could think to do in the moment, what you hoped would give you an advantage again. You leaned in and bit down where his shoulder met his neck, the same side his arm was dislocated, and you bit down hard.

Namjoon yelped in surprise and pain, and you wrapped your arms around him in a chokehold so that when he tried to roll away, you went with him. He twisted in your arms until he was on top of you, facing you again, and this time you brought your knee up hard between his legs, his eyes closing as he groaned in agony.

You easily pushed him off and got on top of him, straddling his chest and pinning him down. Your knees pressed your full weight down on his biceps, including his injured arm, which made him groan in pain with every harsh exhale. He arched his back and tried to push you off of him, but he could barely move or reach you, his arms both pinned outward.

“Tired of getting your ass kicked yet?” you goaded, raising an eyebrow when Namjoon glared up at you. “How were you ever the top of our class? This is a little too easy.”

“Fuck you,” he growled, seething hard, blood all over his mouth and chin from his broken nose. His back still wasn’t technically on the ground though, so you needed to think of a way to make him stay down.

You were straddling his chest, so you moved your hips forward suddenly before throwing your whole body back, slamming yourself down hard and completely knocking the wind out of him. You simultaneously knocked him down so that his back was against the mat, and purposefully hit the back of your head against his crotch, which had to still be hurting from when you’d just kneed him a minute ago, so that he wouldn’t have the strength to get himself back up for a few seconds. You heard what you thought was a crack, which you really hoped wasn’t his crotch, before you heard and felt him groaning in pain.

The instructor counted out, and you won. You immediately jumped off of him and looked down at the damage.

Blood covered Namjoon’s chin, mouth, and neck, all from his nose wound, which you’d smacked more than once. He was bleeding from the bite on his neck, and his shoulder did not look right, pulled painfully out of socket and potentially broken. He rolled onto his side away from you and moaned, the hand of his arm that wasn’t dislocated over his crotch as he curled up in a ball on the ground.

“You all right?” you asked cautiously, stepping out of the way as the instructor rushed in to help him. Namjoon held up his middle finger to you, closing his eyes as he tried to breathe steadily.

You snorted in amusement and went off to the locker room to shower.

That night, Namjoon limped into dinner.

You were sitting by yourself at a table near the back, reading a book written by a pilot from before the attacks. Namjoon sat down across from you, as if sitting together was something the two of you normally did.

His nose was badly bruised and taped up, definitely broken. Judging by the limp he’d come in with, you’d messed up something below deck. His arm seemed to have been popped back in socket, but you could see the bruising spreading over his collarbone under his t-shirt, and his arm was in a sling. He had bite marks on his neck and hand, and the one on his neck had needed stitches.

You tried not to smile to yourself.

“Y/L/N?” he asked, like he wasn’t sure of your name, like you two weren’t rivals constantly competing and you hadn’t kicked his ass a few hours ago.

“Kim,” you said, returning the formality.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, so you went back to eating, trying not to look over at him. He rested his non-injured hand on his stomach, and you wondered if you’d broken one of his ribs or if he was just hungry.

“You planning on eating?” you asked him after a moment.

Namjoon actually smiled, laughing to himself weakly.

“I don’t think I even have the energy to walk across the room to get food,” he murmured, his voice a little deeper than usual.

Without a word, you stood, walking straight across the room to get another plate of food. When you returned and placed it in front of him, he looked up at you with wide eyes, confused and shocked by your gesture.

“Do you need me to cut it up for you, too?” you teased, though glancing at his arm, you wondered if he’d actually need that.

Namjoon shook his head after a moment, glancing down at his plate.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. You saw a small, genuine smile on his lips, and you realized then for the very first time that he had dimples.

III.

The following week came, as did Namjoon’s punishment week for losing the sparring match. The first morning, you noticed him waking up earlier than everyone else to go start his laps, since he had to do double. You quickly got dressed and followed.

You ran up beside him as he slowly jogged around the track.

“What are you doing?” He looked over at you, furrowing his brow but not stopping.

“Running laps,” you answered flatly.

You ran the same number of laps as he did that morning, despite having won the right not to run this week. Namjoon, you learned, had a broken rib and pulled groin in addition to all the other stuff you’d done to him, and he’d been given an out and didn’t have to run any laps after all. Your instructor had told him that he needed to focus on healing and not accidentally hurt himself more. He didn’t have to do combat training or anything else physical until he was healed, but he still ran his punishment laps anyway, completely by choice, and so you ran them too, matching his pace the entire time, neither of you saying a word to the other.

Despite getting his ass kicked in the sparring match, the rest of the cadets viewed Namjoon as almost a superhero after that. They respected how well he’d taken a beating; he was the guy who kept fighting, even with half a dozen injuries and multiple broken bones. You were the only one who’d been able to best him, using just your speed to outwit him, and now the rest of the class respected you both even more. Namjoon was a nearly unstoppable tank, and you were the lithe fox that beat him.

As boot camp continued, you and Namjoon continued your quiet friendship, neither of you the overly gushy or warm type, both focused only on training. You studied together, and started helping each other instead of competing. Both of you only improved your scores and times.

Namjoon helped you with your physical training, helping you get stronger. You helped him with his marksmanship, precision, and speed. You regularly sparred and fought and pushed each other further. You studied together, fought together, ate together, did everything together.

The first year of Corps ended, and you entered the second year. This was more specialized, focused on specifically becoming a pilot with more time on flight training instead of physical and military training, which you still definitely had a lot of.

Your class was smaller now, but you still slept in a co-ed barrack. You and Namjoon picked spots next to each other this year.

One night during winter break, almost everyone else had gone home for the week, the two of you essentially having the base to yourselves. It was well past midnight and after lights out, but you and Namjoon laid in your beds talking quietly, both on your sides facing each other. You only had about a foot of space between your beds, and you could just barely make out his face in the dark.

Namjoon told you that he remembered the attacks, losing his family, everything. He’d had a sister too, and had lived in a suburb, not one of the cities. He didn’t explain further, but said that he remembered what happened to his family, and that he’d been found in the woods by himself weeks later. He’d only been seven years old at the time, and you wondered how the hell he’d made it on his own for so long.

You got the feeling he was used to being on his own, and didn’t let himself get attached to anything or anyone. Part of you wanted to reach out and touch him, put your hand on his shoulder and tell him he didn’t have to be alone anymore. But instead you sighed, ignoring the way his sad eyes made your heart ache.

IV.

Your second year turned into your third, and you and Namjoon only became closer. You both planned to go on to a fourth year of training, even though it wasn’t required, as it would give you higher credentials and clearance when you finished. Both of you still strived to be perfect, after all.

Halfway through your third year together, you realized Namjoon was the closest thing you had to family. You both saw each other pretty much every moment of every day. You both didn’t leave the base for holidays, so the longest you’d been apart since first meeting was a few hours, at most.

You were constantly together, even when you didn’t need to be. You woke up early and ran laps, even though you were no longer required to — only first year cadets ran laps, but you both continued because… you didn’t know why, and you didn’t question it. You loved running with him.

That first year together, Namjoon had been stoic and quiet. He didn’t talk much, unless directly questioned, and even then he kept his answers as concise as possible. You weren’t exactly talkative, but when the two of you talked to each other alone, especially in the past few years, Namjoon began coming out of his shell. When he wasn’t guarded and quiet, he was warm and funny, almost loving in his own kind of way. You got the feeling he was naturally full of love, but had pushed that part of himself down in the years he’d spent alone and in shelters.

Now, you were giving Namjoon a haircut. His hair grew weirdly fast, and there were rules about keeping everything, including hair, perfectly in uniform. Men had to have very short hair and be clean-shaven, which meant Namjoon had to get a haircut basically every other week.

When it was warm you did this outside, but now it was winter and you were in the locker room. While you worked, you talked about upcoming tests and other little things. You kept catching Namjoon looking up at you as you stood in front of him, between his spread legs, and he seemed to be getting bolder, watching your face outright instead of just stealing glances.

“Close your eyes and tilt your head back,” you mumbled, trying to hide the fact you were blushing and flustered. Namjoon listened without a word, and you let yourself look at him for just a second; your faces were close, even with him sitting and you standing, because of how tall he was. You’d been obsessed with his lips lately, finding yourself fantasizing about them at the most inopportune times, thinking about how soft and full they looked and wondering what they’d feel like against your own.

Before you could pull yourself from your thoughts and start on the front of his hair, the power suddenly cut out.

You let out a small gasp, but this wasn’t exactly surprising around here. The power went out often because of the testing they were doing with switching over completely to alien tech for larger power structures. Still, you’d gasped in surprise because you’d been so focused on Namjoon’s face, and now the two of you were alone together in a dark locker room.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asked, his hands coming up to rest on your hips.

Of course you were okay; the lights had just gone off.

“Yeah,” you answered anyway. You moved your hands from over his head to his shoulders, feeling him in the dark.

“It’ll be back on in a second, we’re okay,” he said, his thumbs moving slightly, like he was trying to comfort you.

“I know,” you said, your voice sounding small. You weren’t afraid at all, but you didn’t want him to stop what he was doing.

The lights came back on then, and you looked down at him. Namjoon smiled up at you, dimples on full display, and it nearly took your breath away. He had a little piece of cut hair on his cheek, which you gently brushed away, and he wrinkled his nose at you, making your heart ache.

You finished giving him his haircut, and afterwards he pulled off his shirt and went over to one of the showers, to wash off the pieces of hair you’d cut. You gathered up the electric razor and your other belongings while you heard him undressing behind you, turning on the shower and humming happily to himself.

You stopped yourself from looking at him as you walked out of the room and went back to the barracks, refusing to let yourself think about him showering or the way he’d looked at you.

VI.

Your last year of training was mostly just the two of you working together and with various superior officers. You’d get promotions and rank changes after some time in the field, but you’d start out as Senior Airmen, and would probably both make Staff Sergeant within a few years of graduating. There were no wars or active duty anymore, but it meant you’d both be given leadership positions, if ever the need arose.

After graduation, you and Namjoon would both receive your assignments and placements. You’d both requested to be placed together, without requesting anything else. You could be sent anywhere in the world, given any position; you didn’t care where you ended up though, as long as you were with him.

Since it was your last year, you were both given proper rooms instead of barracks. The rooms were small and minimal, but your room was right across from Namjoon’s. You spent a lot of time in each other’s rooms, even sometimes sleeping over.

Now, you laid on Namjoon’s bed in his room, while he sat at the chair by his desk with his feet propped up on the end of his bed. He was playing with a stress ball, passing it back and forth between his hands. You’d finished all your testing and training, so you were both basically just resting until graduation, anticipating your placements. It was late at night, the rest of the base quiet and sleeping.

“Dream placement,” you said, turning your head and pointing at him. “Go.”

“Oh, man…” Namjoon rolled his head back, looking at the ceiling. “Southern California.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “What’s in Southern California, besides desert?”

“That’s the closest base to where the first ship went down. They’ve got the best tech out there, the best planes.”

“Okay, true,” you sighed. “But there’s nothing out there for miles. There’d be nothing to do.”

“What else is there, besides flying?” Namjoon threw the little ball he was playing with gently so it bounced off the wall beside you and landed on your stomach.

“I like flying and being able to see something besides sand, rock, and craters for hundreds of miles,” you said, tossing the ball back to him.

“You feel like you’re going faster if you don’t have anything to look at,” he said, catching the ball with one hand and tossing it behind him onto his desk.

“You also get lost easier,” you laughed, propping yourself up on your elbows.

“Not if you’re a good navigator,” Namjoon laughed too, standing up and moving onto the bed with you. He wasn’t exactly tickling you, but he was touching your body and you were both giggling as he laid down beside you.

“If you want to feel like you’re going fast, then just go fast,” you said, your hands on his shoulders now as you grinned up at him. He was partially on top of you, partially beside you as he smiled down at you, his mouth so close to yours.

“I want to go even faster,” he said, but he stilled suddenly, looking down at you with wide eyes. He seemed to have suddenly realized the position the two of you were in, and he moved so that he was just beside you, laying on his side as you laid on your back.

You sighed. It was always like this — not that you were complaining, because you loved the relationship you already had with him. But lately, you’d get so close, almost kissing, almost embracing, almost something, and then he’d back off. You still loved the moments before, where you could forget that you were just friends and pretend you were something more, as much as it ended up hurting your heart in the long run.

Even now, you loved this. Namjoon propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you as you continued talking, a different topic now. Your mouths were only a few inches apart. It would be so easy for him to just lean down and kiss you, like you wanted him to so badly.

Namjoon’s hand that wasn’t supporting his head rested on your stomach. You put your hands there too, playing with him, feeling his long fingers and how big his hand was, and Namjoon let you, pretending not to notice.

You talked about graduation plans, life plans, little nothings that made each other sadly smile. Neither of you said it, but you both worried you wouldn’t be placed together.

“What’s your dream placement?” he asked you gently, his voice soft.

“You know, I don’t even care,” you said. Because it didn’t matter where they put you as long as you were with him, but you didn’t say that.

That night the two of you fell asleep like that, in that position. It wasn’t the first time.

VII.

When you woke up, you could feel Namjoon’s gentle breathing on your neck. You turned your head and looked at him, studying his expression in the early morning calm.

He was still on his side facing you, so now you were face-to-face, your foreheads and noses only a few inches apart. His hand still rested on your stomach, and you still held his hand there with both of your hands. You felt his fingers twitch a little in his sleep and wondered what he was dreaming about. His other arm was under the pillow now, and through it you could almost feel the swell of his bicep and warmth of his skin.

You only ever let yourself really look at him like this when he was sleeping, when the two of you had sleepovers in each other’s rooms. You studied the shape of his nose, the way his big, plush lips parted, the puffiness of his cheeks as he relaxed and breathed, every freckle and mole on his face that you wanted to kiss so badly. Cuddled up with him like this, you could feel how warm he was; Namjoon was a furnace of a man, and you’d gotten so used to sharing a bed with him the past few months, you now had to layer up and sleep with an extra blanket whenever you slept alone.

Namjoon sighed then, shifting a little in his sleep. You quickly closed your eyes and turned your head back so you weren’t facing him directly, in case he opened his eyes.

You felt him moving, shifting so that his arm was hugging you instead of his hand just resting on you. His hand was now on your side, below your armpit, his thumb on the side of your breast. He sighed and seemed to fall back asleep, softly snoring again after a few moments.

You laid like that for a while, enjoying this feeling, knowing you’d never have this for real. You'd never wake up next to Namjoon in the context you wanted, but this was more than enough for you. You were so in love with him, but he didn’t see you the same way, so you’d enjoy waking up in his arms for as long as you could.

When Namjoon eventually woke up on his own, he seemed to slowly realize the position you were in, moving his hand down carefully to more platonic territory. You opened your eyes and turned your head to look at him, and were caught off guard by the way he was staring at you so openly, looking down at your mouth for a few moments before looking back at your eyes with an expression you couldn’t name.

“Y/N,” he murmured, so softly you could barely hear him, but you could feel the rumble of it in his chest. You didn’t say anything, both of you just looking at each other in the peaceful quiet stillness of early morning, the only noises both of your gentle breathing.

Namjoon moved his hand up to your shoulder, and then his hand was cupping your cheek, brushing your hair back from your face. The tips of your noses were almost touching, his warm breath on your lips. He closed his eyes and put his forehead against yours, your heart almost stopping in your chest from how close he was. He’s never done anything like this before, and you definitely were not going to stop him.

He turned his head slightly, your foreheads still connected as the tip of his nose skimmed along your cheek, by your nose. He brushed his lips against yours so lightly you could barely feel him, his eyes still closed. You could feel his eyelashes tickling your cheek, and prayed he couldn’t feel how fast your heart was racing or how you nearly whimpered at his every touch.

Namjoon moved and brushed his barely parted lips against the corner of your mouth, your chin, your jaw. His hand on your cheek, he stroked your skin with his thumb slowly, touching you, feeling you. His leg moved up slowly, hooking over yours, and you spread your legs for him. You couldn’t even think straight right now, the only things your brain were processing were the touches and sensations Namjoon was giving you.

What the hell was he doing? The thought of him seeing you romantically, the same way you saw him, had seemed so impossible before now, but now, as he brushed his lips against your skin, you wondered if he’d been longing the same way you had.

Namjoon turned your head carefully, slightly away from him, so that you were looking directly up again. He kissed your cheek closer to him while he stroked the other, pressing gentle open-mouthed kisses down your face and neck as he slowly moved himself on top of you. You, matching his slow movements, wrapped your legs loosely around him and held onto his shoulders.

Namjoon kissed your skin as lightly as he could, feeling you anywhere you’d let him, and you were lost in him. He switched to your other side, kissing your collarbone and neck and jaw, and one of his hands moved up behind your head, tangling in your hair. Every movement was slow and deliberate and gentle.

You never would’ve guessed Namjoon was the gentle type, but now that this was happening, it made sense and you craved it. He closed his lips lightly against your earlobe and you gasped loudly, trying to arch up against him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your ear. “So soft, so perfect, my angel, my love.” His voice was so warm and deep, and you quietly whimpered, holding onto his shoulders even tighter. You felt like he could make you come just from this, just from his light touches and hearing his deep voice praise you. You'd wanted him so badly for years now, you’d dreamed about him, fantasized nonstop, and now here he was, and the tension was already building up for you.

He hadn’t even fully kissed your mouth yet. Namjoon pressed his lips against your cheek, caressing the other side of your face with his hand, just holding your body so close to his. You swore you could die right now and be fine with that.

An alarm suddenly blared, and both of your bodies stilled and tensed.

Namjoon jumped off of you and sat back on his legs, looking around the room like he was expecting to see what was happening written on the walls. You sat up too, looking around. Your legs were still spread, your brain still hazy from Namjoon’s kisses, and you looked at him as you saw him working through what was happening.

“Something’s wrong,” Namjoon said, quickly jumping up. He sat back down on the side of his bed long enough to put on his shoes. “Come on,” he said, pulling you up when he stood again.

You snapped yourself out of your lust-haze. The alarm was still going off, which meant something major was happening right now. It wasn’t just a test.

You left, quickly scampering across the hall to your own room so you could get dressed.

You and Namjoon met up in between your rooms a moment later, both in uniform, and ran down together to where the rest of the base had gathered, Namjoon taking your hand in his as you ran.

VIII.

It was another attack, like when you were young.

You all stood there at attention receiving orders, none of you looking anywhere except forward blankly. This was it, everything you had trained for, the exact reason you’d trained so hard. They were back.

You and Namjoon were both assigned as squadron leaders to two different units, Namjoon to Red One and you to Blue One. Those were two of the best, most elite units of fighter jets, but you looked over at him when you got your assignments. You weren’t together, so you wouldn’t know if he was okay until after it was all over.

You were all dismissed and had fifteen minutes to get to your planes and prepare for launch. You went straight to your plane, not stopping to talk to Namjoon. You knew you wouldn’t be able to leave him once you looked at him, so it was better to just pretend this morning hadn’t happened.

You were just starting to climb the ladder up to your plane when you heard his voice.

“Not saying goodbye?”

You froze in your tracks, but didn’t turn or look at him. You couldn’t make yourself say anything, instead just staring straight in front of you with your hands on the rungs of the ladder.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice much softer now as he walked over to you. The planes were close together so you were in tight quarters, and he stood right behind you, his hands not quite touching your sides.

“What?” you said, not looking back at him.

“Please don’t leave without saying goodbye,” he said. You'd never heard his voice like this. Quiet, pleading, loving. It was like this morning in bed, but more desperate, yearning, begging you to look at him.

You started to move up the ladder without turning around, and he put his hands on your hips, stopping you. He immediately let go, not wanting to trap you there.

You sighed and turned around to face him, only partially, still a step up on the ladder so you were just slightly taller than him. You reached back and held onto the ladder with one hand as you looked at him.

When you saw the expression on his face, it took your breath away. He looked almost tearful, sick with worry, trying to be stronger than how he obviously felt.

“Goodbye,” you said softly, bringing your free hand up to his cheek.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at you. You stroked his cheek with your thumb and tried to smile weakly. His hair was getting a little long, you noticed then for some reason. He was supposed to keep it short to stay in uniform, but now it looked long enough for you to run your fingers through.

Namjoon’s eyes were wide and innocent, searching your face. Around you, the base was chaotic and busy as other pilots ran to their planes and officers barked out orders and engines started up. The two of you just stood there in your quiet moment, both a lot less excited about your first mission than you’d thought you’d be, everything happening so much sooner then you’d both thought and on such a larger scale than you ever could have anticipated. You remembered almost wanting this when you were young, promising yourself that you’d be ready if they ever came back. Maybe the universe was punishing you; whenever you loved someone, the universe immediately sought to take it from you. Your family when you were young, and now Namjoon.

He looked like he wanted to kiss you or tell you something. He parted his lips and glanced at your mouth, his brow furrowing as he breathed, and he looked back up at your eyes, his expression so worried.

“I’ll see you soon,” you said, smiling gently.

You turned and climbed up into your plane without another word.

There had been twenty pilots in your squadron when you left, and four when you returned.

You didn’t really remember the aliens from when you were little, but you’d seen countless videos. You knew what they looked like, how they performed, what their technology was supposed to be like, what their weaknesses had been.

You saw so many planes go down. The alien ship had a different defense than last time, and the fight was only over when the alien ship suddenly left and moved on, seemingly just because it wanted to, not because the humans posed any kind of threat to it. When it left, it had taken out an entire city, just like last time. The town near the base had only recently gotten its infrastructure set up.

You and your three surviving pilots returned first out of all the other squadrons. You quickly climbed out of your plane and ran down to the hangar, asking about the other pilots still out there. You needed to know if Namjoon was okay.

Before you even got to the hangar, another alarm started blaring. A plane near you exploded, and you spun around, looking up at the sky.

There had to be over a hundred alien ships in the sky, all firing on the base and the planes.

“Get inside, now!” you yelled, pointing at the pilots from your squadron who’d ducked down near their planes. You knew the base had a bunker, and the number of people at the base now could easily survive down there long-term.

There was panic as people got down there as fast as they could, all climbing over each other and yelling. You stayed back where you could see the sky, ducking down in a safe spot and watching as long as you could. You only saw alien ships, none of your own.

You imagined Namjoon’s last seconds. If he hadn’t made it back to the base, there was no way he’d survive. The ships would find him. You could only see the planes you’d seen exploding earlier, hear the voices of the pilots in your squadron on your coms as their ships exploded. A cut-off shout, and then nothing.

You finally made yourself run down to the bunker. In the distance, you could hear the ships destroying every visible part of the base, every last truck and car and plane and tank exploding as the blasts hit them. The walls shook and lights flickered and dust fell from the ceiling as you made your way down the stairwell to the bunker.

Over the destruction above you, you could hear Namjoon’s voice that morning in his bed, the world frozen around you then, the only things that mattered his large, gentle hands, his slow, exploring mouth, and his soft voice.

“You’re so beautiful,” he’d breathed against your neck. You'd been able to feel his smile, the tip of his nose tracing your jaw, the warmth of his breath on your skin. You'd never felt safer than when you were laying in bed with him.

You pushed the door of the bunker shut behind you, your hands shaking and eyes welling up. You could not think about this; you had to push all of that aside for now. You had a job to do.

After about five minutes down in the bunker, the lights went out. The weak backup generator kicked on near-immediately, but now there was no connection to the outside world. If any pilots managed to survive this long, the base wouldn’t know about it or have any way of contacting them.

When you’d taken off, both you and Namjoon had been promoted to captains, to lead your squadrons. Once all of the remaining people at the base were down in the bunker and accounted for, you were promoted again, this time to major.

Almost everyone out of the thousand or so people on the base had gone out to fight. The only people who’d stayed behind were ground control officers, technicians, first years, civilians who worked on the base, and the top few people in charge. There were maybe a few hundred people down in the massive bunker now, and you ranked sixth in command out of all of them.

Namjoon would’ve been so jealous you outranked him, you thought with a small smile.

VI.

Four days passed with no news.

There was no service. There was no internet, radio, or any connection to the outside world.

You were itching to get out. There was no news from the outside world, but there also hadn’t been any explosions since the first day. The alien ships had to be gone by now. On the second day, you’d tried to suggest to the general that you could go up to the surface and see if an evacuation could be planned, but the general and other officers had all said that there was no need to evacuate, because there were plenty of supplies down here. They would continue to work on regaining communications with other bases, and nothing else immediately mattered until then.

Now, you were on your cot, staring at the ceiling above you. It was the middle of the night and just about everyone else was asleep. Most people slept on cots in what looked like an old gym, all lined up in long rows. Everyone had been given two changes of clothes, all gray jumpsuits. You felt like you were in prison.

The scratchy wool blanket was pulled up to your neck. You tried to imagine sharing the cot with Namjoon, the two of you squeezed onto the spot only meant for one and giggling when you just barely fit. You imagined him spooning you, kissing your neck and shoulder and holding you close to him. You imagined feeling his heartbeat in his chest. You imagined his face when his plane exploded.

It wasn’t fair. You’d literally just become something more than friends, maybe, kind of. Your relationship with Namjoon meant everything to you, and it had suddenly been changing in such amazing ways, and then he’d immediately been taken from you.

You refused to cry about this. You refused to even accept he was gone. There were ways he could’ve survived. There had to be. He could’ve flown low and ejected and hidden in the rubble of the city. Except he wasn’t a coward; you knew him, and you knew he was the type to win or die fighting. He could’ve led other survivors away from the city. Except there was no way these planes could’ve outrun the alien ships. They weren’t fast enough.

There had to be a way. You had to get up to the surface and find out. You had to find him.

VII.

After one week down in the bunker, you felt like you were going out of your mind.

You had a plan. You were going to go to the surface whether they let you or not. You were going to find Namjoon, or at least the remains of his plane. You were going to find him or find closure.

You needed climbing gear to get up the destroyed stairwell. You’d need to find rope and gear, a lot of water, and survival supplies. You began your plan, looking around for spare supplies nobody would notice was missing until you were gone. You knew where to find rope, but you had to figure out how to acquire and carry enough water. Plus you would need to bring medical supplies, in case Namjoon was injured. God, you could just imagine him, laying somewhere, bleeding out and barely conscious. You wondered if he’d thought of you, imagined you coming to save him.

You were seconds away from stealing rope from a supply closet when a short little man walked around the corner.

“Major?”

You froze in place. You weren’t in the room yet; you were innocent.

“Yes?” you said, smiling politely.

“The general wants to see you,” he said, and left without adding anything else.

Shit. How had they known? You hadn’t done anything yet, or told anyone or written anything down.

You made your way to the command center. Not much was going on there in the way of commanding anything, but it was where the higher ups — which now included you — met, and it was where they were attempting to reestablish communications with the outside world.

The room was busy with officers buzzing around. There were a lot of exposed wires hanging out of the walls. It looked like they were rebuilding a computer system circa 1970.

“Major,” the general said, motioning you over.

“Yes, sir?”

“You’re the highest ranking field officer, so this goes to you first,” he said, handing you a manila folder. “We’ve established communication with a base a hundred and fifty miles from here, but only briefly. They said they have seven survivors from our base. They didn’t say who.” The general quickly added the last part when he saw your face light up at the mention of survivors.

You glanced down at the folder. Before you could speak, the general continued.

“We need someone — a pilot — to go up to the surface and see if any planes are still intact, and if so, fly to Walker Base. If there aren’t any planes left, we’ll probably have you try to find a car, or hike if you have to. We need to get our relay codes to that base, and once we do, we’ll have full communication with them again. You up for it?”

You looked up at the general, smiling.

VIII.

It took you about an hour to climb the staircase. Most of it was rubble and a lot of it involved throwing up a rope and securing it on something to climb the huge gaps where the stairs had fallen out, but you eventually got to the top, pushing aside debris to get yourself outside.

The base was gone. There was no way any planes survived this. Still, you walked out onto the strip, just in case.

Some of the piles of charred metal were still smoking. A few small fires were still going, most of them out in the lot, where jet fuel must still be feeding them. You tried to see if you could spot where your and Namjoon’s rooms used to be, but it was all just rubble, ash, and charred cinderblocks.

You walked down the landing strip, looking at the piles of scorched plane parts, blasted to nothing. Pieces of metal jutted up, a plane wing here, a part of engine there. Every pile you saw, you imagined seeing Namjoon’s body among them. You knew if he was dead, he wouldn’t be here, he’d be out in the city — but seeing all of the destroyed planes wasn’t helping.

You stopped in your tracks.

At the end of the landing strip, under a broken wing of a much larger plane, was the most beautiful F-15 Eagle you had ever seen.

You ran to it, climbing on it when you reached it and pushing aside the wing of the bigger plane until it clamored to the ground. You climbed into the cockpit, dropping your backpack with supplies and the relay codes into the little compartment, feeling nearly dizzy in euphoria. You prepped the jet for takeoff, everything going smoothly, and you imagined Namjoon’s face when you showed up at the base. He’d be so happy to see you, but so surprised, and when you told him that you got promoted to major–

You stopped for a moment, your smile falling as you stared blankly at your hands on the switches and dials.

You didn’t know if he was one of the survivors at the other base. You shouldn’t get your hopes up just to show up and find out he wasn’t one of the pilots who made it. For all you knew, you’d get there and one of the pilots from Namjoon’s squadron would tell you all about how he died.

You focused on the task in front of you. You were on a mission, first and foremost, to get the relay codes to the base. That was the important thing right now, not yourself or Namjoon.

You got the plane prepped and ready to go. The center of the runway was clear, since most of the planes had been gone.

F-15s were always your favorite.

IX.

You didn’t attract any alien attention while flying, thankfully. You got there in just over twenty minutes; around the fifteen minute mark, you slowed down and the base contacted you on your descent into their airspace. You had to identify yourself and state your intentions, but the base seemed completely willing to let anyone human land.

When you landed, a few people ran out and took care of your plane for you, as you were escorted inside. You handed over the relay codes and quickly asked if you could see the survivors from your base.

“Most of them were pretty shell-shocked when they got here, but they’re soldiers. They know how it is,” the officer escorting you said as the two of you walked. “How many survivors at your base?”

“Three hundred and forty-two,” you said flatly, staring straight in front of you as you walked. “We had four pilots including myself return, the rest were non-flight officers and civilians. No casualties on the ground, but the base was destroyed in an aerial attack shortly after we landed.”

“Yeah, we heard about that. That’s why we got your other pilots,” the guy said, motioning in front of him in the direction you were walking, assumedly at the surviving pilots. “They didn’t have anywhere to land and thought the base was gone, so they came here. All from different squadrons, but led by one captain.”

You perked up when you heard that. A captain had survived.

You really did try not to get your hopes up. Your base was huge; there were so many squadrons, only one captain surviving was not good news for Namjoon. Still, you were hopeful.

You were led to a barrack where a few pilots were sitting around together, all men looking bored out of their minds. You recognized Park from your training class, and a few others as well. You scanned their faces quickly, looking from person to person, desperately searching for him, frantic and anxious and despairing when you looked and didn’t see him–

“Y/N?” a voice said from behind you, and you spun around.

Namjoon had walked in behind you from the other direction; he looked like he’d just taken a shower, from the wet hair, clean clothes, and bag over his shoulder, which he dropped as he stared at you in disbelief.

Neither of you even said anything. You were only about ten feet apart already, but you immediately met in the middle, desperately grabbing at each other, hugging tightly. Your legs were up around his waist and he held you to him as he kissed all over your face. The room was spinning or maybe Namjoon was just spinning you around, you didn’t care, you just held onto him and tried to kiss him, one hand in his hair and the other arm around his shoulder, trying to pull him closer.

As much as you wanted and tried to kiss him, Namjoon was just too much; it was like he was trying to kiss every last millimeter of your face at least twice. He was holding you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe, but you didn’t even care. His skin, his hair, his mouth, his kisses were all the most amazing things you’d ever felt. You were pressed chest-to-chest, arms wrapped around each other, and you could almost feel his heartbeat pumping along with your own.

Namjoon stopped kissing you long enough to nuzzle against you, closing his eyes as he rubbed his cheek against yours, nearly animalistic.

“I missed you so much, my love,” he breathed. You swore his face was wet with tears, his cheek still pressed against your own. “I haven’t thought about anything other than you. I haven’t stopped thinking about you this whole time, I love you so much… god, fuck, when I thought I’d lost you…” He started kissing your cheek again desperately, his hand coming up to hold your other cheek and hold you in place.

“I missed you too,” you gasped, your voice small and high-pitched as you tried and failed to hold in your tears.

“I love you so much, sweetheart. I love you, I love you, I love you,” he kept repeating, not even stopping speaking as he kissed you, so some of his words were muffled.

“I love you, too, Joon,” you managed to say before he kissed your mouth, tilting his head to kiss you so deeply it took your breath away.

“Okay, Jesus Christ,” somebody else in the room said then. “Do you guys want us to, like, leave or something?”

Namjoon stopped, catching his breath as you turned your head to look back at the six other pilots and the officer all awkwardly watching you.

“Uh, sorry,” you muttered, putting your feet back on the ground and turning around. Namjoon kept touching you, not taking his hands off you, even as you faced the others.

“I know you both outrank us, but get a room,” a different pilot laughed, his smile boxy and voice deep.

“You have a room, actually,” the officer that led you in said, perking up like that was his cue.

“We do?” Namjoon asked, confused. He stood behind you, hands on your hips, tall enough to see over your head.

“She does,” the officer gestured to you. “She’s a major. All superior officers class O4 and up get their own private room.”

“Major?” Namjoon said, tilting a little to look at your face. You smiled to yourself smugly.

“I can take you there now,” the officer said, motioning to the door behind him.

Namjoon stepped to the side and looked down at the ground shyly, glancing up at you and pouting. You wanted to roll your eyes; he actually thought you weren’t going to invite him to come with you.

“You too,” you said, holding out your hand for him.

Namjoon beamed, and quickly picked up his bag and jogged over to what must be his bed, grabbing the few belongings he had, and shuffled back over to your side, taking your hand and kissing you on the cheek before following along with you.

“Go get it, captain,” one of the pilots jeered at him, the others all snickering and wolf-whistling as Namjoon dropped your hand long enough to flip all the other pilots off while the officer led the two of you out and down the hallway.

As soon as the door was shut behind you in your room, the officer gone and the two of you alone, Namjoon dropped his belongings and picked you up again, your legs tight around him, the two of you kissing again. You felt your back against the cold metal of the old-fashioned blast door, one of Namjoon’s hands holding your face.

“How’d you get here?” he murmured against your neck after a moment, kissing your cheek between gasps. “They said the base was destroyed, no contact.”

“The attack happened right after I landed. Everyone got down in the bunker, no casualties on the ground,” you gasped, still a little short on breath. As you spoke, Namjoon kissed your neck, working his way up to your jaw. “They needed a pilot to bring relay codes here.”

“What’s this about you being a major now?” he said, smirking, his lips not leaving your cheek.

“Got an upgrade while you were gone,” you said, and then you gasped, laughing as Namjoon suddenly sucked your skin over your pulse on your neck, leaving behind a deep purple hickey.

“Well, Miss Major, that means you outrank me now,” he said, leaning back enough to smile at you, his expression a mix of mischievous and proud.

He stepped backward then, still supporting you with his arms, and walked back until he got to the bed, sitting down on it. He laid back, pulling you down on top of him gently, your mouths connected the whole way down.

He was the best thing you’d ever felt, his large, firm body contrasting his gentle touches and kisses. You couldn’t get close enough to him, but it was slow, lazy, loving, everything you’d ever wanted with him, his soft tongue in your mouth, his firm arms around you, his warm body under you.

You couldn’t get over how good he smelled. There was the soap he’d just used, but you’d known him and been close to him long enough to know his scent. He tasted so good too; he swirled his tongue with yours slowly, tracing lazy patterns on your tongue, kissing you so deeply your head spun. His hands rested on your back, his fingers spreading wider as he tried to touch more of you.

You parted for air as he rolled you both, holding your body to his with one hand as he pulled you up the bed, resting your head on the pillow as he gently laid you down. Even though you would’ve only fallen a few inches and the bed was soft, he set you down like you were made of glass, looking down at you with love and hearts in his eyes, not breaking eye contact as he gave you a small, warm smile.

His dark hair was mussed up a little from you running your fingers through it, and it looked fantastic on him. His face was flushed and his parted lips were red and a little swollen, and he looked like he’d been crying, or was about to cry, or both.

You pulled him down to you and kissed him again. He set his body against yours, lining himself up with you as you wrapped your legs around him. You were both still fully clothed, but you could feel him, pressed perfectly against you from your collars to his growing erection and your throbbing core.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, grinding slowly against you. “I’ve loved you for so long, I wanted to die when I thought something happened to you and I never told you. I promise I’m going to tell you now, every single day, every time I see you, every time we make love, every second of every day–” He cut himself off by kissing your neck desperately, moving down toward your breast.

“I love you, my angel. You’re the most beautiful thing in the world, I love you so much,” he said, kissing along your skin frantically by the collar of your ugly flight jumpsuit. “You’re my best friend, and I love you, I love you, I love you,” he said, kissing up the center of your chest toward your clavicle. His messy hair tickled your chin, and you rested one of your hands on the back of his head as he worked, gently stroking his hair.

“I love you too,” you managed to say, though words weren’t really coming to you right now, with all Namjoon was doing to you.

Namjoon got up then, and you watched for a moment as he started quickly stripping off his clothes. You sat up too, pulling off your jumpsuit, and Namjoon got all but his boxers off before your arms were even out. He helped you, running his hands along your skin as you peeled off the jumpsuit, leaving you in just the undershirt and shorts you’d had on underneath.

There was a moment where the two of you just sat there looking at each other. You’d both seen each other in this context — nearly naked — before, from sleeping in the same room to swimming to other random things you’d done together over the years, but this was the first time it was ever like this.

Namjoon raised his hands slowly, his fingers just barely skimming against your hips. His eyes were on your breasts, his mouth nearly watering, and you smiled at that. He looked up at you, his eyes innocent and showing every emotion he had within him; he was asking for permission.

You brought your hand up to his face and kissed him slowly, savoring every movement of his lips, the feel of his tongue, the taste of him. His hands went to your thighs and helped you wrap your legs around him, and then you were laying down again, Namjoon on top of you.

He kissed down your chest, this time simultaneously running one of his hands up your stomach under your thin undershirt. He cupped your breast with that hand, feeling you fully, while his mouth kissed back up to your neck. He got your undershirt off without either of you having to get up, though he did have to lean back a little to give you room to wiggle around, and then he unhooked your bra and threw that and your undershirt somewhere behind him.

Namjoon swirled his tongue around one of your nipples, gently squeezing your other breast with his hand, your peaked nipple hard against his palm. He rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger slowly while sucking the other, just barely using teeth and making you gasp, and then he switched sides, doing the same thing again.

“That feels so good, Joonie,” you sighed, closing your eyes and smiling to yourself. You stroked his hair while he worked, closing your eyes and tilting your head back. Every moment or so, you’d let out a moan for him, tightening your fingers in his hair whenever he did something that made you see stars, and he’d hum back to you, responding without taking his mouth off you.

Namjoon moved down your abdomen, kissing every rib, every freckle, every last inch of your skin. He dipped his tongue into your belly button and you gasped and giggled, feeling his grin against your skin as he kissed down your navel, his tongue tracing along the edge of the little shorts you still had on.

You reached down and tried to pull off your shorts, but Namjoon’s hands replaced your own, slowly pulling just your shorts off and leaving your panties. He tossed your shorts the same direction he’d tossed your bra, and then looked down at you, sitting back on his legs. Your legs were spread wide, your soaked panties the only thing covering you, your eyes desperate for him, your breasts rising and falling as your breath quickened in anticipation and need for him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his expression almost dazed in love and adoration. He looked like he didn’t know where to look, his eyes scanning your face, your breasts, your spread thighs, the spot on your panties where you were already wet and soaking for him. You bit your lip and whimpered, and he closed his eyes, sighing and smiling to himself, like he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

Namjoon bent over and kissed your ankle, slowly, chastely. He moved to the other side and repeated that, kissing your anklebone. He moved up your calf, staying on that side, kissing you over and over and moving so slowly you started to whine for him, begging him to go faster and reaching down for him. He reached up and took one of your hands, holding it and lacing your fingers together as he continued what he was doing, not at all speeding up.

He kissed your knee, the side of it, the front of it, and tilting your leg gently to kiss the back of it. He moved up, kissing your inner thigh while still holding your hand. You spread your legs further for him, whimpering and squeezing his hand as he got closer and closer to your center.

Namjoon pulled back then, a smug smile on his face as he started moving down to kiss his way up your other leg, starting again at your ankle. You let out a whiney moan, pulling his hand and looking down at him, pleading.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” he said gently, moving back to where you wanted him most.

He kissed you right over your panties, a deep, open-mouthed kiss that made you cry out. You could feel him breathing hard through his nose, smelling and inhaling you as he moved his mouth against you, letting go of your hand so he could hold your thighs with both his large, perfect hands.

He licked and sucked the fabric of your panties, tasting where you were soaked for him. It was the most amazing thing you’d ever felt, and you spread your legs even further for him, your hands holding onto the sheets of the bed, your knuckles turning white.

You gasped when you felt teeth, and then Namjoon was slowly pulling your panties down your legs with his mouth, looking up at you with playful eyes and a smirk. You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but instead just closed your legs enough for him to get your panties off of you, letting him have his fun. He let out a small growl at you, your panties still in his mouth, and you giggled, a soft noise that made his eyes light up.

Before you could think or do anything, Namjoon was back between your legs, spreading you open with his fingers and licking a slow, thick line up your folds to your clit.

You cried out, your head falling back and eyes squeezing closed. Namjoon repeated the motion, even slower this time, moaning a little too as he let the tip of his tongue enter you for just a moment. You whined, pulling his hair hard and trying to spread your legs even further, and Namjoon stopped, humming softly as he turned his head and kissed your thigh.

“I love you so fucking much,” Namjoon murmured against your skin, kissing you there again. “Your pussy’s so pretty, my love. So soft and wet for me.”

“Joonie,” you sighed, stroking his hair. You could feel his smile against your thigh, and it made you smile, too. You felt warm, like you were glowing from his love.

Namjoon turned his head back and dipped his tongue into you again, this time further, like he was trying to see how far he could go. His lips sucked at your entrance as his tongue flicked in and out, not fast enough to get you off, but not slow, either. He moved his tongue like he was trying to drink you, lapping you up, bringing your wetness into his mouth and down his throat.

You moaned loudly for him, pulling his face harder against you by his hair, and he reached up and grabbed one of your hands, lacing his fingers with yours over one of your thighs.

He moved his mouth up to your clit, drawing random shapes over it with the tip of his tongue lazily while he curled two fingers into you. He moved clumsily, like he wasn’t exactly sure of what he was doing but just wanted to make you feel good, and what he was doing was definitely working. What he lacked in experience he more than made up for in eagerness and love, and when he moaned around your clit, and you nearly screamed.

“Jesus Christ, Joon, fuck. God, your mouth is… mmm, god, you’re so fucking good, that feels so good, Joonie, Joonie–” You cut yourself off with a long, agonized cry as Namjoon sucked your clit into his mouth hard, swirling his tongue around it as he suctioned his mouth and moved his fingers inside you faster. You repeated a chorus of nothing but his name between breathy moans as you held onto his hair with your free hand, your other hand squeezing his.

You gasped when you came, your whole body tensing as you saw stars and every nerve in your body exploded in pleasure. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream as you failed to breathe, your lungs tightening and your orgasm only building and building as Namjoon kept moving his tongue and fingers. You felt like you were floating in space, millions of stars around you all bursting at once, the entire universe stopping for you and Namjoon and the love you felt for each other.

After a moment, you took in a shaky breath, trying to recover while your mind was still mush. Namjoon was still moving his mouth on you, now licking up your wetness at your entrance and moaning to himself at the taste. If he kept that up, you were going to come again, and soon.

You moaned, pulling on his hair enough for him to look up at you, not stopping what his mouth was doing. You pleaded with your eyes, whimpering and pulling his hair again, and he put his lips to your entrance one last time, this time spreading his lips as wide as possible and sucking as he slowly closed his mouth. You gasped and almost screamed at the sensation of him actually drinking you, desperate to taste you.

Your second orgasm was smaller, making you shudder and gasp for just a moment before steadily breathing deeply as you tried to recover again. You looked down at him, barely able to lift your head; Namjoon was kissing your thigh, your hips, pressing gentle kisses to your skin as he slowly worked his way up your stomach. You could see how hard he was, his precum glistening on the head of his cock as it bounced against his stomach with his movements.

You started to reach down to grasp him, but he gently stopped you, bringing your hand back up by your head and lacing his fingers with yours. He kissed your collarbone, leaving a trail of wet kiss spots all over your body, your own wetness in the shape of his lips and chin.

“Please, Joonie,” you hummed, and he came back to you, kissing your lips slowly and letting you taste yourself on him. You wrapped your legs around him tightly as he lined himself up with your entrance, moaning when you felt the head of his cock against your folds, gasping when he started slowly sliding into you, every amazing inch of him filling and stretching you.

Namjoon buried his face in your neck, the length of his nose pressed against the curve of your jaw. He turned his head enough to kiss your neck, feeling your rapid, heavy pulse with his lips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your neck, not opening his eyes. “So fucking tight and wet for me, my angel, my princess, my heart, my love. I love you so fucking much.” He kissed your neck again gently before pushing all the way into you and bottoming out, the stretch so wonderfully tight and full. You cried out, spreading your legs further and higher for him, grabbing at his shoulders, scraping your fingernails down his back as he filled you up so completely.

Namjoon pulled out slowly and then pushed in again, rocking into you. You were desperate, nearly delirious and just about ready to cry if he didn’t start moving faster. He seemed to just barely be holding on by a thread, his own orgasm already one sudden movement away from overwhelming him.

“God, Jesus Christ, Joon, fuck,” you cried, close to actually in tears now. You started to say something else but it turned into a small whimper as he thrust into you again, hard.

“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, “I love you so much, Y/N…” Your name turned into a long moan as he began his slow, torturous pace, both of you so close to the edge already. You didn’t know how he was possibly going so slow still, other than the fact he must want to torture you.

“Go faster, please,” you cried out, holding onto his shoulders as tight as you could and digging in your fingernails. “I need you so bad, Joonie. God, fuck me, please…”

“I love you, angel,” he said, kissing your shoulder. He picked up the pace a little, but it wasn’t enough. “I love you, baby, I love you so much. I love you, I love you–”

“Go fucking faster, now, please…” you sobbed, pulling his hair, making him hiss in pain, but he listened, reaching down and holding your hip with one hand as he started pounding into you, the force of it making the bed creak and your breasts bounce with each quick, powerful thrust. You were long past gone, moaning loudly with each exhale, and Namjoon groaned and grunted, his head against your shoulder as the two of you moved together, you rolling your hips up to meet him thrust for thrust.

Namjoon broke first. His orgasm hit him suddenly and he tried to keep moving, his thrusts sloppy, erratic, and uneven as he spilled into you, his mouth hanging open and eyes squeezed shut. He let out a long groan until he ran out of air, and then he didn’t inhale again until he finished, suddenly and harshly gasping in again, his whole body shaking in your arms.

He reached down and rubbed your clit furiously, and you only lasted a few seconds before you gasped too, clenching around his still half-hard erection inside you, which only made him groan in overstimulation as you squeezed and spasmed around him, gasping nothing but his name and feeling nothing but him, your love, your Namjoon.

Namjoon somehow managed to keep himself from collapsing on top of you. He moved to the side enough to fall beside you, one of his legs still between your thighs as he laid on his stomach, slightly turned in toward you. His hand moved up to cup and stroke your cheek as he lazily kissed your shoulder.

“I love you too, Joonie,” you said between shaky breaths, your vision almost blurry from lust and exhaustion and a dumb happy smile on your face. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You laid there for a little while together before you eventually went another round, this time as slow as Namjoon had wanted to go the first time.

When you came this time, your orgasm had to have lasted at least five full minutes (or at least, it felt like that) as Namjoon kept moving in and out of you, keeping up his steady, slow, overwhelming movements that left you delirious with his cock inside you, his thumb on your clit, and his lips on yours, breathing in every moan of his name.

After you both laid there a while again, lazy in post coital haze, you eventually got up and went to your room’s personal little bathroom, where you turned on the tiny shower and let it warm up. You stood there feeling the water’s temperature with your hand while Namjoon stood behind you, arms wrapped around you and lips on your neck. It was like he couldn’t go more than a few minutes without saying “I love you,” not that you were complaining.

You showered together, Namjoon standing behind you the whole time and washing your body for you. He massaged your breasts, hands sudsy as the warm water fell down over them as he kissed your neck, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear. One of his hands fell down to your folds, stroking you slowly as his other hand moved to your breast, arm wrapping around you so that his forearm could also press against your nipple, stimulating and touching both of your breasts at once.

Namjoon slid two fingers into you as he kissed your temple. You could feel him hard against your ass, and that feeling made your eyes flutter.

“You don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of touching you, pleasing you, making love to you,” he murmured into your hair. You responded with an agonized moan, reaching back and holding onto his shoulder for support. “I’ve wanted you like this since we first met. I dreamed about eating your perfect little pussy so many times, doing exactly this to you, feeling you squeeze my cock like you did earlier when you came so prettily. You’re better than anything I ever could’ve imagined though, baby. Your pussy tastes like heaven and feels even better. You’re so fucking perfect, princess, I love you so much, more than my heart can bare.”

You felt like he had to be bending you over slightly, his firm chest against your back. You swore you could actually feel his cock throbbing.

“I need you,” you moaned, your eyes closed as you felt nothing but his hands.

“I’m here,” he said, kissing your cheek. “I’m here, angel. I love you.”

“Need you inside me,” you said, spreading your legs to stand with your feet braced wider apart. “I love you, too, Joonie. Please…”

Namjoon didn’t need to be told twice. Hooking his arm around your waist for support, he bent you both over a little more, sliding into you from behind in one smooth motion. You cried out in ecstasy, he felt so good and big and yours.

It was fast and sloppy; he hugged you against him with both arms while you braced yourself on the tile wall in front of you. The sound of skin smacking against wet skin, his hips hitting your ass coupled with both your quiet moans and the wet squelching of him moving hard and fast inside you, echoing off the tile walls with the sound of the running water. He filled you so perfectly, stretched you out so far, you felt like he was fucking up into your guts, so hard and deep and good.

You came at the same time, Namjoon groaning and squeezing you harder as your eyes rolled back in your head.

When you’d both recovered some, you stood there under the water, still in the same position. You both knew base rules about wasting water, so you needed to wrap this up, but neither of you wanted to move.

You eventually got out and dried off, both of you getting ready for bed with the toiletries provided by the base. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you the whole time though, so the whole process probably took three times longer than it should’ve.

When you both finished, he pulled you to him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he kissed you, his hands spreading out on your bare back. Namjoon’s tongue slowly swirled with yours as he let out a small, contented hum, and he wrapped your legs up around his body, supporting you with one hand on your back and the other on your thigh.

Namjoon walked to your bed, carrying you, and laid down with you on top of him. You didn’t end up going another round, but you kissed for a while until eventually you started to move off of him to sleep beside him. Namjoon, though, held you there on top of him, keeping you there.

He murmured a soft little “please,” stroking your back gently, begging you to stay where you were on top of him. You laid back down and kissed right over his heart, before turning your head and resting your cheek on his chest, nuzzling in against him to sleep as he pulled the sheets up around you both.

You were safe in his arms. The world around you didn’t matter; not the people down the hall, not anything outside the base, none of it. The whole universe was just you and Namjoon in this bed, and nothing else existed. He was yours, and you were his.

#ksmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #bangtanarmynet #namjoon smut #bts smut #rm smut #kim namjoon #namjoon #my writing #namjoon fic #*

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godwrecks · 4 years ago

Text

𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝗦𝘂𝗻𝗮

𝗣𝘁. 𝟮 - 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗪𝗮𝗻𝘁

word count: 4.1k

tags; college au. angst. confession. fwb. drugs. fluff if you squint.

The first thing you registered was the light buzzing - no, vibrating of Suna’s phone. Much too dazed by your sleep, you didn’t wonder who was blowing up his messages this late at night. Raising up the sheets to shield your naked body from the cold, you tried to get some sleep, but Suna’s incessant tossing kept you from doing so.

You finally turned to him, eyes squinting at his illuminated face. “Why the fuck is your screen so bright?” You groaned and nuzzled into his chest, wrapping an arm around his bare torso. He merely chuckled, quickly putting away the phone.

“Why so cranky, you just woke up,” despite speaking in hushed sentences, his voice still dripped with mocking. Suna placed his hand on your hip, and though it remained in its station for a few seconds, he soon started trailing his fingers along your waistline.

“Can you even call it waking up? I didn’t sleep at all,” he cocked his head at that, bringing you in closer to him. “I guess I’m at fault for that.”

You smiled quietly, clearing your head as much as possible to get a wink of sleep, though you knew he’d be up and going soon. It had been a few weeks since the...incident, if that’s what you could call it. Nothing changed, really, for better or for worse. Sometimes he was more careful around you, but your relationship was only good for sex. That’s what you had to remind yourself, right? But everything remaining the same was what bugged you. You knew better than to demand more because this was never meant to go past fuck buddies. And while he started coming to you slightly less high, sometimes even seemingly sober, you knew better than to get your hopes up.

With your head like this on his chest, you could hear his heartbeat. Steady. Steady, while yours seemed to always mess up and skip around him. And yet with the slow rhythm of his heart, of his breathing, you surrendered to sleep.

When you woke up again, the sunlight was already rudely peeping past your curtains, and the other side of the bed was empty. Still adjusting to the light, you looked around the room slowly, filled with a strange relief when you found Suna dressing up.

“Practice?” You rubbed your eyes carefully, putting on a hoodie and wobbling when you stood up to reach him. He smiled arrogantly as he ran a hand through his hair, proud of the mess he made of you.

“Yeah. I gotta stop to get something on the way, so I’m heading out now.” His voice was still raspy from sleeping, some of his locks awkwardly falling over his eyes.

Though you wanted to smile at the sight, you knew he was talking about his plug and picking up shit from him. It wasn’t that you judged him for smoking - if that had been your preference, you would’ve known better than to get involved. You and Suna started out as friends, and you had been good friends for a long time at that. Some of the boys on the team always smoked together, and you almost always happened to be there with a few other girls, sometimes even taking a hit you’d be offered. Some of those girls were flings you’d never see again, others were girlfriends. But you were just a friend at the time, not thinking much of the tall and laid-back middle blocker.

“Will you be there tonight? For the party, I mean,” he spoke casually, sitting down on sheets that now smelled like him. “I’m not too sure. I have an assignment due, and I have to be up early tomorrow,” he nodded from his place, tying his boots. You hadn’t been going to many parties lately. The semester nearly ending meant your workload was accumulating, which also meant seeing Suna less. It was at parties and gatherings that you really got to see him, anyway - he was always busy with volleyball and zooted out of his mind most nights he was free. Your thoughts were abruptly cut when you felt his lips press against your forehead, finding an apologetic smile when you looked up.

“You’re starting to bore me,” he joked, but it still made your smile falter. You wanted to give yourself a good slap; since when had you become such a crybaby?

“I’m gonna go now, don’t miss me too much,” Suna stood in the door, offering a charming wink.

“Bye, loser,” you smiled back before shutting the door right in his face.

You had tuned into your laptop to absorb every piece of information from the lecture, or at least try to, as you sat in the library. A quick glance at the clock told you it was nearly midnight. Surprisingly, the library was open all night for students to study - go figure, maybe they guessed most procrastinate until the night thereof. You were taking a few sips from your drink when your phone lit up for an incoming call.

“Rin?” You spoke quietly, not bothering to decipher what the background noise was on his end.

“Baby! You picked up,” his voice was lighter than usual, a mixture of sweetness and relaxation. Suna was the type to become touchy when he was intoxicated, whether by alcohol or drugs. His hands wandered everywhere and he became extremely affectionate, even cuddly, though it was mostly him grabbing your ass. You had only ever seen it for yourself; it was what he did when you were around, and you didn’t have the heart to ask what he did, or who he did it with, when you were absent.

“What’s up?” You let out a sigh as you leaned back in your chair, fingers toying with the straw of your cup.

“I wanna see you,” he spoke and you guessed he had walked out of whatever room he was in.

“I’m studying right now. I told you, remember?”

“Mm, yeah, yeah, you did,” Suna grumbled before a sharp noise echoed through the line, followed by a curse.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just knocked some shit over. Anyways, come on, just take a break.” You took in a sharp breath, wanting to knock your head against the wall. You knew when to say no, but when it came to him that never meant it was easy.

“I really can’t, Rin. If you just want a girl all over you, call someone else,” you flinched at your own tone, stupefied by the coldness of it.

Whilst you were pondering the source of your sudden anger, Suna was chuckling, probably shaking his head. “Hey, hey, where’s that coming from?”

“Well, I’m just giving you a disclaimer. I’d love to be there, but my grade for this class is desperately crying for help,” you laughed, hoping to cover up whatever that had been.

“So what? I just call someone else?”

“If that’s what you want right now,” you frowned, a detestable panic rushing through you. It was so stupid to even suggest so in the first place, what were you hoping to accomplish? Maybe you just wanted to check for yourself what happened when you weren’t there to satisfy him.

“Unfair, much?” He sighed, and you wished you were facing him right now, if only to catch a glimpse of what goes through his mind.

“How?” You ventured with a gulp, heart pounding against its cage.

“You’re the only girl who doesn’t sober me up,” your stomach twisted onto itself at the smirk on his voice. You felt sick yet couldn’t point down the reason why - there were several. You being foolish enough to even think of this fact as a confession, him only calling you because he just wanted his high to last. Was he using you? The thought raced through your mind, along with a few scenes of you laying next to him.

“Hey,” he blurted out seriously. Between you only remained the loudest silence you had heard.

“Hey,” you were utterly breathless, struggling for air as your lungs closed up and rebelled against your will. You wondered if this was truly so shocking. While you were in the back of his hair, this fear was always forced to the back of your mind. You had knowingly mistaken every moment for more than it was.

“Are you o-”

“I need to go, actually. I’m still at the library, so I should head home. Have fun, yeah?”

Before he could even reply, you ended the call, gripping your phone so tightly that your knuckles went white.

The ride to your apartment was loathsome, to say the least. Not even the loud music could keep you away from your thoughts long enough. You turned the engine off and made your way to the elevator. In the process of searching through your backpack, your phone almost slipped from your hands when you jumped in surprise, startled at the arm sticking through the closing doors.

Your heart dropped when they opened up to reveal a panting Suna staring right through you.

“Rin, what are you doing here?” You stammered when he pressed the button to your floor, nearing your figure.

“I came here to see you,” he was still slightly out of breath, eyes scanning you as if they were searching for something. Had he run for so long?

You took a look at your handwatch and cringed. It was late, but not late enough for him to come knock at your door.

“Thought you’d be busy until later,” you replied dryly, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Yeah, well, change of plans.” His sleazy eyes never left you, and you regretted not taking the stairs.

“I’m sorry I made you come all the way here, but you should go-” You stared at the hand wrapped around your wrist that pulled you closer until you stumbled forward.

“Don’t do that.”

You chuckled viciously, a sound that bruised him. “Sorry I’m not really in the mood to have sex right now.”

“You know that’s not what I’m here for.” Suna started to be visibly frustrated, or at least you thought so by the strength with which he was gripping the pole behind you.

“Then why are you here? That’s all we’ve ever done, Suna,” the name rolled off your tongue awkwardly, and as distasteful as it was for you, his flinch made it clear that he disliked it even more. The elevator doors opened and you walked out, straight to your apartment with the hopes that he’d stay behind.

“Oh, so now we’re back to the last-name basis?” You felt him right behind you, his heavy breathing audible.

“I’m sorry, okay?” You half-assed the apology as you struggled with your keys, the slight shake in your hands slowing you down.

After stepping inside, you turned just in time to see his shake head.

“Why are you being like this all of a sudden?”

Your eyes rolled back at his indifference. How could he be so dense? Was he feigning innocence like this was a game to the both of you? It may have been for him, but not for you.

“I don’t know!” A step towards him and you were already too close. You felt claustrophobic from the way he hovered above you. “Maybe because I feel fucking stupid? I know there’s nothing between us, I’m well aware,” the laugh that formed in your throat was bitter, yet it didn’t compare to the tightening of your chest. “But this just isn’t what I want anymore.”

Suna looked at you as if you had gone insane, unaware of the slight craze in his amber eyes. “What do you want?” He grabbed onto the door, stepping forward until he had cleared his way inside.

“Not this, not whatever you want out of me.”

The grin on his face, unlike his usual striking ones, branded an emotion he had never worn before. “Which is?”

“Making you cum while you’re high, apparently,” you sneered back, tearing his hand away from the door.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” Suna gritted through his teeth, slamming the door shut. You groaned, debating how hard you would have to smack his head with your backpack to give him a concussion.

“Oh, am I? You said so yourself.”

“You’re twisting my words,” he pointed his finger at you accusingly, fuming with every breath.

“How so?” This time you didn’t back off. Instead, you hit his chest, resisting the urge to claw at it so he’d at least keep a distance. “If you care to explain, go right ahead!”

“I never said that’s all I want,” his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to keep calm, which was turning out difficult for the both of you.

“Right, because only seeing you after you've smoked wasn’t enough of a message. I don’t even see you throughout the day!”

“How is that only my fault? You never told me you wanted something else, and you were as happy to fuck as I was whenever I knocked on your door.” You could only scoff at his words, amazed he could even dare to try and blame you.

“You know damn well this isn’t on me. I'm not the unavailable one, I'm not the one that's always gone until it's convenient. I'm not the one who barges in and acts like they own me, or did you forget about that already?” You had begun to scream out without realizing, but the rage you felt burning through the cracks of your heart was urging to be released.

Suna stood there quietly, staring at you with distant eyes, like he was too busy making sense of his own thoughts to even mind yours. When the clock ticked away and he had still not spoken a word, you inhaled, bracing yourself.

“Listen, this was nice. And I’d like to stay as a friend, so let’s just leave it at this. If you had plainly admitted that all you ever wanted was sex, I would’be been slightly better now.” The words were calculated and detached as you held onto the sleeves of your cardigan.

“You’re not fucking getting it, it’s not just the sex that I want,” Suna finally mumbled, but your hand was already placed on the knob.

“Well it's all you ever cared to ask for.” You opened the door and stepped away, unable to look anywhere but at the floor.

“When I said I didn't wanna leave you, I didn't mean- I meant…” each word was a separate struggle, and you lacked the strength to bear it any longer.

“What did you mean, Rintaro?” You only offered a tired smile as he stood there once again like a fish out of water. A silent challenge he never took on.

It only took you a few seconds to decide to push him from behind towards the door. You were angry, and heartbroken, and definitely not okay, but something like this was not worth losing him over. Despite everything, he had been a great friend before.

“Have a good night,” and with that, you spelled away the image of the tall brunette you came to adore.

You were still dripping from your long shower, the robe you wore doing little to collect the water before it hit the floor. It was early afternoon, not even 24 hours after the fight, yet it felt like an eternity had passed. You hadn’t heard from Suna at all, and a part of you wondered if you would soon or if he would disappear for a while. Shaking the thoughts away, you walked over to the kitchen to grab a drink when the doorbell rang. You frowned, scrambling your brain for anything your friends had said about coming over, but you were sure none had the plans to visit. The moment you opened the door, the scent of musk and ginger washed over you.

“Please don’t shut the door on me, you seem to have taken a liking to it,” he blabbered out as soon as your eyes met. You hesitated, shifting your weight on your feet.

“What are you doing here?”

“Give me a chance?” You frowned, scanning his face for ulterior motives but all you found was honesty. Despite it, your stomach sank at the sight. Though you didn’t know if you had wanted to see him or not, you wouldn’t have imagined it would be this hard.

“Rin, really, what are you-” You couldn’t finish your sentence, too bewildered to properly speak. Another glance at his face told you he was sober - he even looked more put together than he usually did, though it looked like his volleyball uniform was under his outerwear.

“For someone who was so upset, you should at least give me the opportunity,” he joked tediously, ignoring the dense air that had formed between you two.

His smile was rueful, and genuine from what you could see. “Just...let me do this properly. Dress up and let’s go to my game,” he announced, hints of timidity teetering his voice.

You simply gazed at him, lips forming a thin line. “What are you doing? Just- what are you planning?”

“Nothing!” He swallowed down, raising up the hand that was holding two bags. You raised an eyebrow at it, unamused. “Here, I got you something.”

Receiving it from his cold hands, you looked carefully into it before digging through it. “You’re joking,” you hissed, dangling the pink lingerie in front of his face.

He was smug, toying with you for his pleasure as always. You would have too if you had not been in this situation.

“It was a joke. That’s not...really what,” he quickly delved into the other bag, holding out a small, black box. You surveyed it before cocking your head, taking it from him and opening it. The necklace inside was pretty - beautiful, actually. But you didn’t want his money, you wanted him, which was likely a harder request. “It’s not gifts that I want, Rin,” you sighed, now painfully aware that he would never be something you could predict.

“I know that, angel. But I never treated you, or did something nice for you, and most guys do with, you know,” he trailed off, eyes darting away from your face.

“My problem is you only calling me when you’re high. That issue won’t be solved with gifts,” you massaged your temple, slowly becoming a mess as you tried to put the pieces together and figure out what he was doing.

“I’m not a damn addict, princess. It’s not all I fucking care about,” Suna swore as he leaned against the door frame.

“I know that! I never said you were, but you can’t just go from only giving me that to acting as if you actually want us to be something more. So tell me, how am I supposed to feel?” Though your voice nearly broke, you held onto the door - determined to at least stand your ground. You had been clear with him. You had specified you couldn’t do this anymore, so the least he could do is respect that.

His eyes narrowed for a moment, glimmering ever so briefly that you wondered if the change had been a figment of your imagination. “Listen— I've never,” his chest trembled with a breath before he continued. “I've never been in love with someone, alright? I don’t know how it fucking feels, and that was the last thing I planned on doing. And don’t get me wrong, I was hooked on you from the very beginning. But then suddenly you're the only person I’m attracted to,” Suna’s voice was uncharacteristically weak, threatening to crack at any moment. “And believe me it wasn’t for lack of trying, because while my dick was inside someone else, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to see you. And I didn’t- I don’t know how to process that, all that you fucking make me feel. I don’t even know if I want to process it at all, if I’m being sincere.” His lips lifted into a pained smile that didn’t reach his tormented eyes. “But when you ended that call, you sounded so hurt I panicked. And I don't have a plan, and I'm rambling, and this is probably the most I’ve ever said at once, but if I know something, it’s that I can't let it end here,” his throat bobbed but his steps to you were resolute. You almost turned away when his hands cupped your cheek, spanning the skin delicately.

You couldn’t find your voice for all it was worth. It was hard to tell whether your brain was working faster than your heart.

“You say that, but,” you jerked when you felt a tear trickling down your cheek. Suna’s fingers stuttered undecidedly, but his thumb wiped away the salty trail. “Assuming you truly felt that way, you never acted on it. Actually, you acted very differently,” you hiccuped, biting the inside of your cheek in shame.

“You want me to be honest with you? I feel like such a mess around you, like I might explode. It’s easier to deal with that in certain situations. Hence me restricting our time with each other to me being high,” Suna murmured, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to deal with it. I was scared all the good I’d ever do for you is a nice fuck. What if that’s all I get until I mess up? You’ve got it so together and I’m here, not even able to talk about my stupid feelings.”

You gaped at his pale face: the beautiful carving of his features, the slight quavering of his bottom lip, the long eyelashes framing half-mast eyes.

“You mean that?”

He laughed at your simple question, likely expecting more after everything he had let out. You wanted to give him more, but you were unable to, still trapped in your fear that it would all be fake.

“I do. And I’m sure it can’t just be me who feels like this.” With a look at you, he pinched your cheek gently, looking for an answer.

“It’s not just you. Obviously,” you grumbled disapprovingly. It was pretty obvious to you, but he still smiled sweetly, the frenzy in his face slowly fading.

“I’ll probably miserably fail, but I at least wanna try. I wanna do this — with you. So please let me. And if it’s not enough for you even after that, then I won’t waste your time anymore. But give me the chance.” His hands lowered to your jaw and neck while he spoke the words, forcing you into a retreat.

“Rin, do you even know how relationships work?” You scoffed, quirking your eyebrows at the boy.

“Yes. No. In theory?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his response. He really was awfully cute sometimes.

You eyed his waist, reluctantly deciding to wrap your arms around it with a heavy sigh. “I’ll probably regret this and get my heart broken.”

“Hopefully it’s not your heart that gets broken,” Rin quickly added, looking down at your body with a sneaky grin. You glared at him, hiding away the smile on your lips.

“You know we have to like- go on dates. During the day and all?”

He nodded like this was a work interview and he was expecting the question.

“Okay, so get ready. Let’s go to my game,” he signaled over to your room given your bathrobe, but you could only stare at him cautiously.

“I mean it. Come cheer for me,” Rin leaned down to you with the whisper, reaching your eye level. You nodded, rushing to get dressed once he planted a kiss on your cheek.

“You know,” he started off casually, grabbing your hand. “I might’ve cried if you hadn’t come back with me.”

“Oh, really?” You smirked at him, curiosity filling you.

Swiftly noticing your mood shift, he explained. “Well I talked to some friends...for advice, or whatever. So if I had showed back alone, those two jerks would’ve never let me hear the end of it.”

He squeezed your hand as laughter soared through you, your free hand traveling to your abdomen when it began hurting. “Seriously?” You added when you managed to control the laughter, gaining a glare from Suna.

“Seriously.”

When your eyes had returned to the road ahead of you, he lifted your intertwined hands to his mouth, kissing the back of your palm.

“I’ll do this, so just don’t complain anymore okay?”

This was so long??? If you actually read all of it, THANK YOU LMAO. also sorry for the weird spaces sometimes, i like writing in docs so i don’t lose anything aha so it b weird sometimes idky. okay yeah thank you !!

art credit: damnzucoyy on tiktok

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