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dokifluffs · 4 years ago

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Newborn | Sakusa, Osamu, Bokuto

Pairings: Sakusa X Reader (female) and Osamu X Reader (female), and Bokuto X Reader (female)

Genre: baby fever, dad haikyuu wow fluff love

Author’s Note: Babies are adorable and haikyuu as dads is just- 😍

Warnings/ Notes: All post time skip! and their children are less than 1 year old, infancy

Newborn | Ushijima, Iwaizumi, Atsumu

Sakusa:

The lights in your hospital room were dim with a single lamp on beside Sakusa as you rest soundly having given birth two days ago

He rocked slowly back and forth in the rocking chair, holding his baby girl for the second time ever

He carefully cradled her in his arms, fitting perfectly with her head resting in the crook of his elbow, her body wrapped in a pink blanket and a little beanie covering her slight bunch of dark hair that matched his own

She yawned, her mouth stretching, eyes squeezed shut as she did this, making Sakusa let out a breath

“You tired, hm?” He slowly ceased his rocking to a slow stop as she inhaled, taking in a few deep breaths before she let out a little squeak of a sneeze

For the first time in Sakusa’s life, after fearing germs so much, the countless times he scrubbed his body, room, house, everything he owned or touched, he wasn’t fazed at all seeing his little girl sneeze in his hold

“Bless you,” he smiled as he continued rocking

Aside from you, he had never held something so precious and dear to him in his life and now here she was in his life, a little human that the two of you brought into this world

She was a little treasure he had in his life he didn’t even realize he needed

But now he knew

“I can’t wait to show you your clean room that I was able to set up for you, my sweet,” he hummed as he brought her closer, pressing a kiss to the edge of her beanie

“I won’t let you ever get sick,” he promised, already thinking of making a book so he could read and educate her on how to stay clean

As the final words left his lips, the tiny infant’s eyes opened, the first thing she saw was her father

Her tiny body moved in the wrapped blanket, making her look like a little burrito. He loosened the blanket, letting her little arms and legs free

She reached her hands covered with the hospital provided booties, reaching for the hand of her father, little gurgling sounds coming from her

“Shh, mommy’s sleeping,” he shushed her seeing you stir in your sleep, rocking her once again in the chair

Their gazes never left each other as she looked up to him with a unreadable look but he looked at her like she was something so precious, he didn’t want the world to break her

“You’re so small,” he breathed, holding her even closer, letting her rest her head on his chest in the reclined seat of the rocking chair he kept in this position with his feet

“How cute,” a warm heat spreading in his chest

Osamu:

“Let’s go wake daddy, okay?” You held your son above your head in your hold as he erupted into a small fit of giggles, his eyes drawing into thin lines as he waved his arms in the air

You bounced with every step holding your son on your waist, your sons hands clamped over his mouth, the smile never leaving his little face as the two of you made your way upstairs

The door creaked open slowly as you nudged it open with your foot

Osamu laid on his stomach, his upper body bare on the bed, still fast asleep with the blanket draped over half his body. His arms rest beneath the pillow half his face was smudged in

You sat on the edge of the bed on Osamu’s side, pointing to your asleep husband to your son

“S/N, go wake daddy,” you encouraged in a hushed voice as you set him down on the bed. “Go wake daddy,” you smiled and gave a reassuring nod as your son looked back to you

He crawled wobbly on the bed toward his sleeping father with determination, his little, dark gray eyes locked on his father’s sleeping face

As he got closer, he began to babble. He leaned into the pillows and raised his little hands, patting his father’s cheek and nose, letting out incoherent sounds you could only imagine would be him telling Osamu to wake up

Osamu’s back rose as he took in a deep breath, his groggy eyes slowly cracking open to meet his son’s face inches away from him

Your son’s babbling ceased but his ministrations didn’t

He continued to pat Osamu’s face and nose, booping it with his tiny fingers

“Alright, buddy, I’m awake,” he smiled and hummed, turning to his back so he could lift his son, sitting him on his chest

Your son just stared at Osamu wide eyed, looking at how much bigger Osamu’s hand was from his own as Osamu half his hand, lightly moving it side to side as he blinked away the final bits of sleep

“He really looks like you,” Osamu spoke, his voice deep with sleep as you laid down at his side, your hand draping over his abdomen behind your son’s body sitting on him

“I really think he looks like you,” you kissed his cheek, the hand of his arm you laid on slowly rubbing your shoulder. “His hair’s pretty dark like ours but he has you gray eyes.”

“Hmmmmm…” Osamu hummed as he just took in the moment, letting this reality imprint in his memory forever

This was his family: you two were his everything

Bokuto:

“I’m home!” You called into the house, Bokuto and your son nowhere to be seen

You slipped out of your shoes, feet aching despite wearing flats all day but still nonetheless sore

All you wanted as soon as you left was to come right back home to your boys yet there were out of sight and it made you wonder if they went out

As you pulled out your phone to call Bokuto, your train of thought was interrupted when you heard laughter coming from upstairs

You followed the sound upstairs, seeing light coming from your son’s nursery

With the door opened, you found them

Bokuto and your son laid on the rug in the room, the room brightly lit from the lamps being on

Your older child, Bokuto, put the handle of a toy maraca in his mouth before he shot it up into the air from his mouth, catching it before it could hit either of them or the floor

Your son loved this- he erupted into a fit of laughter and giggles as he squirmed on the floor, holding his feet, clapping his hands, moving all sorts of ways, their smiles and gazes never leaving each other

It was safe to say your son got the happy virus from his father, the two already very similar and you could tell his childhood was going to be full of memories and adventures with Bokuto as his dad

And you couldn’t have asked for anyone else to take his spot beside you for the rest of your life

“S/N, mommy’s home!” Bokuto sat himself up and swiped his son off the floor, his hand holding his stomach as he moved him around as he made his way to you, making airplane noises as your son giggled more, his hands reaching for you

He made babbling noises as Bokuto handed him to you, his small hands clinging to your blazer collar

“Hey, how was work?” Bokuto’s hand found its place on the small of your back as he leaned in, the two of you pecking your lips together

“It was tiring but seeing the two o you recharged me,” you smiled. “I missed you so much today,” you spoke in a baby voice as you carefully dipped forward, peppering little kisses all over your son’s face as you stood straight up

“Hey!” Bokuto playfully pouted

“And I missed you too,” you spoke in the same baby voice, getting on your tippy toes as he leaned down a little so you could pepper his cheek with kisses as well

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046 @mazey-chan @sunboikyo00 @kara-grayson04 @fortheloveofbakugo @tsumtsumsemi @osamuonigiri @1-800-wholesome @yamagucci @realityisoftendisapointing@plantisnotplant @k-eijiakaashi @pink-panda-pancakes @differentballooncollection @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction @euphorihan@turquoiselace @macaronnv @oxmaddy @mrkoala4prsdnt @curiouslilbeast @plantisnotplant@therestless101 @abcdaichi @oyasenpai @kaaidalupita @lovinnoya

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colorseeingchick · 4 years ago

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Period Pains (Iwa, Suna, Bokuto)

Periods still stuck. Nothing has changed since part one. But these boys continue to comfort me when I feel like my heart, head, and stomach are going to explode :D. I hope they comfort you too!

A/N: It’s been rough homies. It really do be your own body that tries to attack you -_-.

Warnings: EMETOPHOBIA (in Suna’s there’s a semi detailed description of vomiting); swearing; foot massage in Bokuto’s (Ik that makes some people uncomfy); gym bros.

Iwaizumi Hajime

It was common knowledge that you and Iwaizumi were two halves of one insane power couple.

No questions asked, you both were generally independent when it came to taking care of your own matters, and you were both were pretty independent.

But there were exceptions- moments where you would both lean on each other, using the other as an anchor and a crutch to get back up and stay on your feet.

Your period was one of those times when times you needed your beloved boyfriend to play that role.

Today was one of those days.

You and Iwaizumi head over to the gym at around 6 am to get your early morning workout in before you go through with the rest of your day.

You had told Iwaizumi the night before, and he asked if you still wanted to “go gym” the next morning.

You said yes, hoping that a solid workout would help with some of the cramps.

And once you had got there, you had your hopes up.

The first half of your workout was going really well, and you hadn’t thought of your cramps at all.

But then it hit you while you were walking over to get your water bottle.

You didn’t know why, but the cramps hit you hard. Instantly you went to the bathroom to try and compose yourself, but that wasn’t really helping either.

You didn’t wanna bother Iwaizumi mid workout, so you tried to carry on.

Unfortunately, that didn’t work out too well.

As you tried to keep going, the cramps in your stomach got worse and worse, until you were pressing your stomach with your hands, curled over yourself on your yoga mat.

Taking deep breaths, you tried to relieve the only worsening cramps.

It wasn’t until a warm, firm hand caressed your back did you look up from your curled up form.

“1 to 10.” Iwaizumi asks you with a soft voice.

“4.” You say as you curl into yourself once more.

It was the pain ranking system that you’d both been using since early on in your relationship. You knew exactly what he meant, and you were honestly thankful that he understood you were in pain by just looking at you.

“Lying to me doesn’t do any good, ya know.” His words are harsh, yet the concern in his voice kills any intimidation that was supposed to come across.

“7.”

“Sounds right.” Iwa’s one arm wraps around you, digging into your side, his thumb massaging circles into the spot right above your left hip, while the other hand rubbed softer circles onto your lower belly.

You felt your muscles untense as his hands worked away at your cramping stomach with deep pressure only he had the strength to apply.

“What’s wrong with her?''

Both of you look up to see some guy (he seemed like a newbie, neither of you had seen him before) talking to your boyfriend.

“What.” Iwa’s voice is dry, in shock at the fact that this dude was in your business.

“Did she injure herself working out or something?” He asks, as if you were incapable of speaking for yourself. “Not being careful in the gym can be really dangerous, especially if you’re not trained.” He speaks in your direction this time.

Iwaizumi Hajime (27) ATHLETIC TRAINER, now looked like he was ready to commit murder.

Some of the regulars had now turned to watch, most giving the guy dirty looks.

A couple of you and Iwa’s closer gym bros step towards you both, making some preparations for Iwaizumi to swing.

But before anyone can really say anything, your voice cuts through.

“That’s real rich coming from you. The only thing that’s gonna cause an injury is your horrendous deadlift form.”

Your boyfriend goes from a state of shock into a fit of snickers, the guys on the side also amused. The guy in front of you goes completely red.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about you bi-”

“I actually think she’s right. I was a bit worried, too.” One of Iwa’s (very buff) friends stepped forward, smiling at you two before putting a hand a on the newbie’s shoulder. “Let’s go check it out.”

As you sigh out, your boyfriend stares at you with pride and amusement both bright in his eyes. “All that pain and you’re still able to come up with snarky comments.”

As his hand returns to soothing circular motions, you dig your face into his chest.

The soft touches from Iwa were enough to ease your pains, and allowed you to embrace your moment of vulnerability with your sweet boyfriend.

“Let’s dip and get food, okay? And you can just rest at home. You deserve a break.”

“Weren’t you saying something about how the grind doesn’t stop-”

“It stops when your health is on the line. Let’s go.”

Suna Rintarou

When it comes to you being on your period, Suna is by far the most hands off while simultaneously being the most attentive.

Suna wasn’t necessarily the biggest on PDA. But when it was just you two? He had no problem being all up against you.

The only situation Suna does not know how to navigate is when he can’t read someone’s moods or behaviors. Luckily for him, you were overly clear with his emotions and needs when you were on your period, even if those moods and needs were all over the place.

Early on, when you got together, he was a bit surprised to see how bad your period could get.

He’d walked in to your room one day to see you in a fetal position, rolling around on the floor.

He’d seen you go a full day of eating only junk food, upset and trying to satiate all your cravings.

He’d also seen you go without sleep because of how bad your cramps were.

Essentially, he’d learned you’d go through really bad health habits, and he’d assigned himself the roll of trying to make sure you maintained some regularity while on your period.

He was ready for anything, so ready that he made it look effortless.

When Suna came back from practice one day, he couldn't find you anywhere in your shared home. Which isn’t a problem, but he doesn’t recall you saying you were going anywhere....

It’s not till he lazily stalks over to the hallway and hears a horrible retching sound that he realizes you are still home.

Swinging the door open, he finds you perched over the toilet, vomiting in what looks to be a super painful manner.

“Rin...ta...r-oh fuck” you can barely get his name out before you start throwing up again.

Your boyfriend takes a step into the bathroom, but you toss an intense ‘no’ his way with your hand.

“It smells disgusting… and… I don’t want to be smothered right now…” you sigh as you breathe between your bouts of vomiting.

He takes a deep breath, recomposing himself. He knows your period can get pretty bad, but he hasn’t seen it get this bad in a while. He obliges, but he doesn’t move from the doorway.

As you start your next fit, Suna’s face remains blank, but his heart twists.

He slowly approaches you, kneeling beside you.

“I said to not.. To smother me....” your protest is weakened by your body inhibiting your ability to speak.

Suna keeps a bit of space between you two, but he gently grabs your hair, pulling strand by strand, until its completely out of your face

(alternatively, if you have short hair), Suna keeps a bit of space between you two, but he lets his hand gently rest on your back, rubbing in soothing circles .

Your hand goes up to push him away, but he grabs your fist with his larger hand, weaving his fingers with yours, rubbing his thumb into the back of your hand.

“I won’t smother, don’t worry. But I’m gonna be here.” He’s soft in his tone, unfazed despite the relative unpleasantness of the situation.

As you finally stop, you fall back, your hands covering your eyes.

As you lean back, your body giving out, your head finds its way onto the plush chest of your green eyed boyfriend. He doesn’t touch you, but just acts as a makeshift couch for you to lean on.

“Rintarou.” “

Yeah?”

“I need your touch.”

Your words are blunt but effortlessly received as your boyfriend instinctively wraps his arms around you, languidly stroking your thigh with one hand and holding your stomach with the other. He adjusts you so that you’re pressed up against him.

“Better, babe?” he asks as he backs up into the wall, loosening up as you relax against him.

“Mmm.” You croon, sinking down against him. “I should brush my teeth, I’m sorry you came back to this.”

“It’s fine. Get cleaned up. Wanna watch movies? I got Chinese takeout.”

“I don’t want Chinese,” you comment.

“What do you want?”

“Pizza.”

“...”

He sighs. “I’ll be back in 20.”

“I love you.” you smile at him as you tell him what he already knows.

He presses his nose into your hair, letting your conditioner’s scent fill his nose. “Mmm… and I love you.”

“How much?” You ask.

“How much do I what?”

“How much do you love me?”

“Enough to get you pizza at 10 pm in the pouring rain.”

“It’s raining??”

“Yeah.”

“...Nevermind I don’t want pizza anymore.”

“Well I want pizza now so I’m going.” He pulls himself up and out of the bathroom despite the way you tried to cling to his leg to keep him from leaving.

“Rin!”

Bokuto Koutarou

Bokuto is honestly the ideal boyfriend, especially when you are on your period.

Early in your relationship, when you got on your period, you didn’t tell Bo. But he ended up learning the hard way.

He’d come back from practice a bit later than usual and didn’t text you. Usually he didn’t, especially if he knew he’d only be a little late. But when he walked through the doors, instead of finding his usually happy, bubbly girlfriend who usually showered him with love, he was greeted with you crying.

“W-why didn’t-t you text me, Kou? Do you-u not care about me?”

He had nooo idea what was going on, and he was very panicked and sad.

He felt like the rug was pulled out from under him when you proceeded to snuggle into his chest 2 minutes later, cries completely stopped. His little owl eyes were wide open and very confused.

2 days later, he asked about the situation again, scared to bring it up.

But you were really embarrassed as you explained how you were on your period and could get extreme mood swings. You apologized and promised that you’d never do something wild like that again.

But Bo wasn’t content with your answer.

He went and asked Akaashi if he knew anything about what periods were like (he was shy to ask you).

Akaashi found the lovely statistic of “period pain being of equal pain levels of a heart attack” and Bokuto lost his shit. “

I’ve never had a heart attack, but they kill people! And they go for the hospital for those! And she apologized for being a little emotional… that doesn’t seem right, right Kaashi?”

Akaashi agrees, of course. And sends Bokuto off with the advice of “she’s always there for you. All you have to do is be there for her.”

When the next time you had your period rolled around, and you found yourself a little emotional, you did your best to control it. But Bokuto was having none of it.

“Baby, you don’t have to hide it! You can be emotional!! I don’t mind. You always help me when I’m emotional! I can do the same for you. I’ll take the best care of you, I promise!”

You would honestly call it a turning point in your relationship, cause this was when you learned to start really depending on Bo. And you realized just how dependable he could really be.

When Bokuto comes back from practice today, he finds you splayed out on the couch, koala-hugging a pillow, whimpering a “welcome home” between grunts of pain.

Bokuto stays quiet as he walks up to the couch, dipping down to place a kiss on your cheek before stripping his sweaty t-shirt off as he walks off to take a shower.

Once he comes out, fresh and clean, he throws on a comfortable t-shirt and shorts before coming back to find you on the couch.

He grabs your legs, pulls them up, sits down, and then places them in his lap. “Baby, do you want a massage? I can press your legs.”

“You don’t have to, Kou, it’s okay.”

“I want to!” He cheers back as he starts to knead at your calves, moving down to your feet and slowly pressing over your socks.

You sigh and huff, slowly relaxing as the soothing feeling of the pressure applied to your feet counteracts the pain you felt in your lower abdomen.

While Bokuto concentrates intensely on massaging your calves again, he perks up at the sound of a sniffle.

Swinging his head, he sees you slowly dissolving into sobs.

Panicked, he slides your legs onto the couch and comes by your face.

“Baby, did I press too hard? Did I hurt you? Please tell me.”

“No, no, Kou, you’re fine. I’m just- I’m so lucky and blessed to have such a loving amazing boyfriend~” you get the words out as tears stream down your face, turning to look him in his big, gorgeous, gold eyes. “I don’t deserve you, my love.”

Now, for reasons unknown, Bokuto finds himself crying as well.

“Why are you crying!” You cry and laugh out at the same time.

“Because I have such a sweet girlfriend who always showers me in love! Don’t say I don’t deserve you. You’re perfect for me.”

Cheesy as the exchange was, it was really soft for you. Because you knew Bokuto, and you knew he meant every word exactly as is from the bottom of his heart.

Crying while your laughs got lighter, you pull him in and kiss him all over his face.

He laughs too, and holds your face as he pulls away, swiping the tears from under your eyes. “Your turn!!”

After smothering you with kisses, he picks you up and carries you to your shared bedroom, so he can love on you more, with enough space for both of you to lay next each other and peacefully drift off to sleep.

A/N: Gym guys who don’t mind their business seriously bother me. I hope you all enjoyed! Requests and commentary are greatly appreciated :D

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 4 years ago

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Touch it for Real, Part 2

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Eventual Smut

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / enemies to lovers

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

What you didn't know — what you couldn’t have known was that it wasn’t real. The flush you felt in your skin was real. The sticky sweat that spread over your bed sheets when you tossed and turned was real. The heat of it; the perceptible and tactile fire that spread through your veins felt so physical and solid, you had no way of knowing that this wasn’t real.

Slim fingers.

Fleshy thighs.

Hip bones beneath well worn denim.

Buttons popping with the barest of effort.

And the lips. Oh God, the softness of those lips as they traveled over your very hot skin. You could feel it all.

You never saw his face; you hadn’t needed to. You could smell him everywhere. You knew who this was. You’d know him with your eyes blinded; you’d know him anywhere.

At first you turned away. At first you resisted, but as the fire spread through you, you found yourself turning into him, searching for him, seeking out that connection to fuel the heat.

Why was this happening? Why did you rejoice in it? The longing and the desire had simply become too much for you to deny and now you were the one pulling him into you. You were the one who wrapped your legs around that slim waist and constricted and those sounds from his chest they were...they were…

Those sounds from his mouth, they were—

Screaming.

Laughing.

‘AH HA HA HA AH — YES!’ Rough staccato laughter; so, so loud — so damn loud, it ripped and it tore at your mind and it yanked you up so roughly; up so fast you felt your entire body shaking if not completely falling apart with the speed at which you were pulled.

You opened your eyes into pitch blackness. Your vision took only a second to adjust and you could make out the sliver of dim light from the street lamp outside that peeked through the very top of your curtains.

On your nightstand, pale yellow squared numbers taunted you with 03:42 AM and covering your entire body where you laid on your once so welcoming bed was your bunched up and sweaty comforter. It was heavy. It was everywhere. You felt suffocated by it. Why was it so hard to breathe?

Your comforter. You purchased it because it was pretty. It fit in perfectly with your room decor and it was pale in color enough that the brightly colored stuffed animals you set atop stood out and complimented the subtle pattern. It made you feel at home.

It used to make you feel at home. Now it was making you feel a very different sort of way. Hot and sweaty and flushed all over and now, very mad about all of it.

You could still feel that shaking deep inside your chest and you laid your palm over your forehead to feel for a fever. You swear you could feel the tremble happening inside, though it was fading now, you were sure you still felt that shaking inside of your body.

It was beginning to settle.

You felt another rumble, paired with a loud booming sound that vibrated and shook your wall. The glass of your window quaked and the pale yellow numbers on your nightstand danced in your vision.

‘HAHAHA! I got you asshole!’

03:44 AM

Speakers. Surround sound. Heavy bass. An impressive system at any other time of the day when the sun was out. But right now? When you had been peacefully asleep; when you had been dreaming? Earth shattering booms. Deafening shouts of victory from the idiot with every new explosion that rattled your bones.

You sat up and the comforter stuck to your sweaty skin. It wasn’t even hot in this room, yet this thing clung to you like it was coated in glue. Nearly four in the fucking morning.

You had to work tomorrow. It was the one day a month when you were required to report to the office in person for the staff meeting. And here you were being ripped awake by such a disturbing commotion and goddammit this blanket was hot.

This … thing.

This thing that brought with it images of him and images of, oh god, images of his fingertips and his lips and his, oh god, oh no. No, please not that. Anything but that. Of all the things that were absolutely off limits. Of all the situations that could never happen. Horror. An overwhelming horror; it tasted of shame.

No, no, no, no.

How could this have happened? How could those images be burning into the backs of your eyes? The more your overtired mind tried to make sense of it, the less sense this made. You looked down at the blanket, searching for answers.

Had something about this blanket been ruined?

Was it’s once comforting and innocent essence somehow completely changed on a molecular level and was it now….tainted forever? Because of him? Because of what he brought into your room and depravedly rubbed all over it?

You pushed it away with both hands reaching you pushed and pushed until it sunk down off the foot of your bed and the cool air blew over your hot bare legs. Even the cool air did little to calm the irritation you felt all over your body. It did nothing to cool you off. Your legs were made of pure fire.

He did this. You were sure of it. He brought this evil on you. And now with his room shaking howling laughter you were wide awake and angry at almost 4 am when you had work in the morning; you had to be worth a damn in the morning.

You were up on angry legs with rage pushing you forward and you reached down for the blanket that you didn't even want in your room anymore for all it represented. You hauled it with both hands and took two steps forward toward your closed bedroom door when your forward progress took a quick and southward dive and you fell, tripped up by the wretched blanket when you stepped on a corner instead of on your soft rug.

You could feel the burn on your kneecaps where you collided with the hard floor. You could feel a sting on your left knee that hit the hardest but burned into the carpet and you grunted through the pain to quickly lift yourself back up and gather every other bit of hanging blanket securely inside your arms.

The trek through the living room at such an ungodly hour when every living breathing cell in your body would have rather been asleep felt absolutely crazed. You reached his door, turned the knob just enough for the latch to disengage and with your entire being hurled that motherfucker open and sent it flying.

Oh and it flew. It hit the wall and bounced back hard, bouncing back quickly against your arms that held on securely to the blanket. The noise was shocking. It was a vindicating battle cry.

The commotion startled him. His hands were on the keyboard and a pair of headphones atop of his head and for WHAT, you could hear every single thing happening on his screen in mind deafening stereo surround sound filling up the whole room. You could hear it clearly from your own room and from inside this room it sounded like you were living inside of the subwoofers themselves.

Your rage was somehow louder and it made him spin toward the motion and sound of you at his doorway with a shriek of surprise. His eyes were saucers and his mouth flew open; an unchewed bite of some pink sausage fell out and bounced off his knee onto the floor below his sock covered feet and he was only screaming for a second before he was cursing.

“Shit. Jesus. Fuck. Ohh my God, Fucking Hell, oh my heart. Oh it hurts. Oh Christ I’m dying.” He was clutching at his chest. His headphones, the useless things slipped off his head and toppled down his shoulder following the sausage chunk and you could see them fall all the way down to the floor. The cord, which had not been plugged in quickly followed and pooled into a puddle at his feet.

“Do you have any idea ... what time it is?” Your voice sounded foreign to your ears. Had you always sounded so burly? You felt like an angry mountain lion ready to go in for the kill.

His eyes were closed up tight and he inhaled a deep breath before cracking them open to look at you through the heavy panicked breaths.

“Ohhh,” he moaned as his breathing calmed and the shock faded with each slow breath he took. “Ohhhhh,” he repeated softer, to himself.

“Ohhh…” this time he was looking at you and his eyebrows furrowed together as he did it. “Oh—whoa, whoa, whoa, you look….super fucking crazy right now. What is happening?”

His hands were up in confusion; in defense, and you were moving forward taking the stupid blanket and roughly shoving it toward him you hurled it right at his face and watched it hit as hard as a soft cottony blanket could manage to hit — it was more of a gentle nudge really, and then it fell down, taking his stupid glasses off his face and burrying them somewhere within the fluff where the blanket fell.

He was too confused to catch it. He had absolutely no idea what he had done to defile and destroy the sacred sanctity of your sleep.

He had no idea.

“What are you doing with this? Why are you doing this? Why are you giving me your blanket? Where are your pants? Is your leg bleeding? Tell me what is happening!”

“You!” You hurled a finger up and pointed it in his face. His eyes widened, crossed to look at the finger that clearly accused him of something just off the end of his nose and then looked back into your face in utter confusion.

“You—“ you inhaled to survive and your mouth hung open as the words, the accusations you had for him, the truth of what he had done to you, what he really hadn’t done, but what you were certain you felt happening in your sleep, in that dream, those words they stopped entirely as you looked at his face. His very real face, the very real pink cheeks and confused eyes of your roommate Byun Baekhyun who had absolutely no idea that you had just been disturbed during and then disturbed by a vivid and confusing sex dream about him.

Oh god.

You couldn’t say that.

You would rather be dead right here than say those words with your own mouth.

This had never happened before. He was a real person, you had never experienced a dream like that involving a real person. Not someone you knew like you knew Baekhyun. Not someone you lived with and had to keep on living with. The more you replayed the words that refused to come out of your mouth inside your head the more your sanity slowly returned to your mind.

“Your headphones are not plugged in.” You shook your finger in his face. Using every bit of anger you had built up on the walk across the living room, every bit of uncomfortable sweaty stinging ick you felt all over your whole body about the whole thing and you shot those death lasers out of your eyeballs and you focused them right on his face, right there in the center of his stupid forehead. That’s where you put it. That’s where you glared and that’s where you wished every little bit of comeuppance that he had coming to him would land. Right there on that head.

“Wha?” He said and his stupid pink lips frowned downward into a pout. Against your will, you watched them as they moved and then quickly focused your pointing anger back up onto the center of his forehead. It took a lot.

He was looking down at his feet and reached through the big fluffy blanket that covered him from the waist down to the floor to find the headphones that had landed somewhere within it all.

He pulled them up and kept pulling, following the cord until he reached the end and he held the male end of his headphones with his fingertips as he looked down at them with a scoff and a small laugh.

“Oh shit,” he chuckled to himself, “huh...would you look at that?” As if absolutely nothing at all mattered in the world and this was just a humorous little hiccup in his day. At 4 am on a work day.

The audacity of the man. The absolute shameless audacity.

“Would you look at that?!?” The volume of your own voice surprised you. You screamed it. Right at the top of your lungs and he jumped in his seat, closed his eyes up tight and clutched at his chest again with a pained wince on that face. Immediately after you’d done it you felt a pang inside. Was your anger really caused by being awoken? What were you really so damn mad about here?

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered to himself when his eyes opened again.

Then he directed them at you with his eyebrows furrowed and that glare right on your face.

“Jesus. Christ. Woman.” he half spoke again with his eyes on you and his face pointing directly at yours with each new word he spoke. You felt unjustly rebuked. The seriousness on his voice closed up your gaping mouth and you pulled your head back. Part of you wanted to grab his hair and pull it, demanding reparations and apologies and justice for his many 4 AM crimes against you.

“I mean...Jesus. Christ.” His head nodded to emphasize just how ridiculous he was now finding your current outburst and you felt the heaviness deep inside your arms as you sagged on your feet and wanted to give up your fight against gravity. Part of you knew you were justified in your outrage. How could you be losing this fight so easily to him? Maybe...maybe you were just tired.

“I’m just...so tired, Baek.” Your complaint came out as a sad little whine and your head fell back as you closed up your eyes. Suddenly feeling like you could drop right here at his feet and sleep curled up in your wretched comforter.

He must have gotten up. You could feel his arms on your shoulders and you were steered somewhere within his room. Your legs didn’t feel like moving but there were some calming circles being rubbed on your back that felt too nice to resist.

“I’ll turn it off, Bug. You can sleep, I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I was sleeping so nicely.” You mumbled and you were in a bed that didn’t smell like you. “I was dreaming.” All at once the memory and that smell brought back a strange yet familiar feeling.

“Was it a good dream?” His voice sounded far away.

“Mhmm,” you hummed and you let yourself drift. You let yourself curl into the mattress that you were laid over and gave in to an unimaginable comfort that pulled you under too easily.

If he had any more questions you did not know, but something called your sleepy mind back for one more word. Something asked perhaps. You couldn’t be sure what it was, only your single word response slipped from your lips.

“You,” you told the questions, before disappearing entirely.

Your alarm clock was ringing. It was a sufferingly familiar sound that could rip you awake from the deepest sleeps. Today it sounded far away, but that tune was so ingrained into your mind that you immediately opened your eyes and stuck a hand out to look for your phone to stop it.

Only your hand reached and found nothing. You moved further and bumped against something hard like a table that should not have been there.

“Mmm,” a soft moan sounded out from somewhere below and when you finally opened your eyes and searched your ceiling, the layout was definitely different.

This was not your room.

This was not your bed.

“Don't you work today?” You followed the sound of his voice and found it coming from somewhere curled up on the floor beside the bed underneath your comforter. The one you’d abandoned last night. The memories flooded in an instant.

“Yeah. I’m getting up. You can have your bed back, Peanut.”

Peeling back his blankets for a quick escape you saw your own bare shins; knees; thighs; all the way up to your underwear. You’d fallen asleep with only a t-shirt on last night. But there was a new addition. You saw a flesh colored bandage stuck to your knee with a brown-red stain in the center of the gauze pad. You paused to look down at it, a thousand conflicting inclinations running through you in a single breath and not a spare minute to dwell on any of them because your alarm was still ringing and Baekhyun had turned over and peeked his face out from under your blanket.

You could not explain the urgency to leave. You freely loitered near him and around him constantly without even a second thought.

Although you had never done it in such a state of undress. This could have explained the rush. How much would he see of you? How many flaws could he make out with his sleepy eyes. How long had it taken him to apply the bandage last night? Did he use his bare fingertips to softly dab ointment on your wound or did he merely slap on a bandaid with a rough palm. He wouldn't have lightly blown on it to dry the medicine would he?

Something was wrong with you.

These were not important questions for you to be asking. You needed to get out of his room before he saw any more. Perhaps the dream had done much more damage than you had feared.

You could have stepped down off the bed beside where he laid. It would have only required an extra step to get over him. Instead you climbed down to the foot of his bed and without a look back you were out of his room under the compulsion of the ringing alarm and you surrendered willingly.

Back inside your room you could breathe freely and deeply. You could indulge in your routine of getting ready for the day and you took your time to get your hair and your makeup looking nice. It was cold out so you opened for the thick winter leggings to get you through the commute without freezing to death and you were out of your door just in time to stop for a morning coffee.

The day dragged. You were probably just out of practice, having worked from home for so long that having to make an active attempt to look busy enough to justify your paycheck with so many witnesses in the office had you feeling burnt out by lunch time.

You went for a walk to avoid awkward small talk with your co-workers even though it meant you didn't have enough time to actually eat any real food before your break was over. Still it was preferable to the alternative. Namely the meddling old women who, every time they saw you had some new neighbor’s friend’s son, or some doctor’s nephew they just had to set you up with.

So what if you were single. So what if you were too young and too pretty to be alone. There wasn’t some invisible timer counting down to your swift and imminent demise just because you didn't have a boyfriend. You were pretty sure that timer was running for everyone despite the relationship status on their facebook profile. And you did not mention your facebook profile to Baekhyun because he would probably flip out, hack into your computer and delete the whole thing. The dramatic man. How else were you supposed to see what a mess your high school friend’s lives were shaping up to be.

When it was finally time to go home for the day you were more exhausted than you thought was normal for someone still walking around on her own two legs. You were the angry sort of hungry that made you annoyed with every single sound you heard on the subway and not even your headphones in your ears playing your favorite songs eased your anxiety.

You glared at the woman across the aisle with the unruly kids who refused to wear their masks right. You glared at the old man with his nose sticking out of the top of his and you tightened your own mask to your face and took a step back and away from the group of youths that eyed you up and down as they moved through the doors.

You’d never before been so happy to open the door to your apartment and be greeted by the pleasant hum of a refrigerator that you knew had to have at least one tasty thing you could snack on to take the edge off of your mood.

Inside was bright. It was cleaned recently — You’re welcome — It was sparkling and gleaming and well organized and it was full of a multitude of raw ingredients that could be chopped and sliced and diced and cooked up to make a wonderfully healthy and fulfilling meal for whoever had the energy and ambition to embark on such a feat.

You peered inside at the bottles of water in the door. The sticks of butter and the bottles of sauce mocked you. You were pretty sure raw eggs cracked into your open mouth would give you some sort of infection that would require you to leave the house again this month so you opened the drawer where you were sure you saw a cheese stick hiding inside last night.

There it was.

It was white and bouncy. It was salty and individually wrapped and it was calling your name in sweet a cheesy joyous chorus of promised deliciousness.

It was yours.

It’s most amazing feature wasn’t the chewiness or the cold chill it had from sitting for weeks in a refrigerator. No, the best thing, and you mean the absolute very best thing about this single plastic wrapped cheese stick was that it existed.

Exactly when you needed it most.

Feet shuffled behind you. Baekhyun would be waking up from whatever napping schedule he’d accidentally tricked his body clock into adopting and he would be stumbling into the kitchen for a drink of water.

You unwrapped the cheese stick and stuck the end between your lips. Instantly rewarded by the soft way it gave when you bit down. You took the tiniest bite and you chewed carefully and thoughtfully. Perhaps your eyes rolled back and closed and perhaps you might have even experienced something akin to out of body experience of pure pleasure as you chewed, swallowed, and opened your mouth again for another bite. A real one this time.

What you hadn’t anticipated, was the cruelty of the universe that had allowed you to live this many years on Earth only to end up here in this exact moment with this man whose home you also lived in. You hadn’t expected the crushing reality of watching that man sleepily stumble into you with his eyes half closed and open his big mouth as wide as it would go and sink that mouth down directly onto the entire exposed part of your cheese stick, of which maybe 85% had been exposed, and chomp down ruthlessly with nearly the entire thing vanishing away before your eyes.

You watched him chewing noisily with his mouth open and bits of white cheese bumbled around inside before he let out a noisy laugh complete with a snort that sent bits of cheese flying across your once clean kitchen.

“Haha,” he said as he swallowed, “your face.”

He was laughing at you.

He ate your cheese; well, most of your cheese. He was laughing now, harder. The longer you stood staring at him in absolute shock at what he had just done the harder he laughed and you could feel the countdown happening inside of your chest. A number for each heart beat that seemed to be speeding up toward his death.

He had no idea. He never ever did.

This man was so close to death and he was giggling now and reaching for the big bottle of orange juice that sat inside the fridge.

He lifted it up to his lips and drank from the bottle, not even bothering with a glass. He drained half of its contents and when he pulled the bottle down, some things, tiny and white - mini specks of your cheese floated around inside the orange liquid.

You saw bright white nothingness.

You would like to go on the record now, and plead insanity.

In your mind's eye, everything was just all white.

Like the afterlife in movies. Except far less peaceful but equally unexplainable.

Violence may not be the answer. But you really had very little memory of this.

You had flashes of it. His deafening screams and your hand reaching into a bag of cheese puffs for handfuls that you shoved into his gaping mouth. You don’t even know where you got them from. They just appeared suddenly and they crushed so easily into soft powder as you pressed them between his teeth. The powder coated the surface of his skin around his mouth. It flew in the air too as he screamed. You were covered in it. Your hands were stained bright orange. The color of your wicked crimes.

The whiteness returned. Then more flashes of your crimes. Your mind touched on images of the sticky drops of orange juice that fell one by one from his hair that laid completely flat, lacquered to the top of his head. Then, his cries of pain with your knees dug into his chest and both of your bright orange hands squeezed tightly around his neck. The coughing when you pressed down harder in the middle of his neck and the eventual sensation of him fighting back. The urge to live must be strong in him. Why did he resist this so much? Just die already. Why fight the inevitable? If not done by you, surely some other person would do it.

When you came to, you were inside of your bedroom packing a bag full of clothes and stuffed animals. You felt that this was probably your get-away bag, and that meant he was probably dead.

Drowned in two ounces of backwash filled orange juice and lungs stuffed with brightly colored cheese flavored* puffs (*contains no real cheese.)

You had a list happening inside of your head. Things you had to do before you left this place forever and never returned. A strange calm had washed over you; probably brought on by shock.

First, you had to pack this bag. You had stuffed it full of overcoats. Your winter coat with the pink polka dots. The fluffy yellow puffer jacket you got as a gift from your best friend. Your rain jacket in case it got wet in hell. Second, you would go into his room and clear his search history. It was something you had always promised you would do for him and he had promised to do the same for you. After that, you would call the police from a pay phone on the corner of the block to anonymously report the crime.

Your bag was full. Too full to fit the brightly colored pink bunny even though it was a tiny thing. You pushed and shoved, squeezing it in between the layers of coats until you were sure the seam of your bag was about to pop if you tried to zip it closed.

You still had your toiletries to pack. This would never do. How could you pack a get-away bag without your favorite shampoo.

A flood of memories came to you. Your favorite shampoo and handing the bottle with your eyes covered to Baekhyun as he showered. All at once, that steady and all consuming calm wavered and you felt the first hot tears building. Stinging and burning as they crested and spilled over your lashes onto your cheeks.

Your lips were stuck in a deep frown and you did your best to inhale through a stuffed up nose.

“My poor Peanut,” you said into the hollow empty space of your lonely bedroom. You’d have to venture into his bathroom to get your shampoo. Possibly walking past his lifeless corpse which you were pretty sure you left somewhere in between the kitchen and the living room.

A maniac. You were a heartless monster. The remorse you now felt, which could very well help you in court, coated you from head to toe and you cried openly when you pulled your bedroom door open and took your first step out of your room.

Shampoo and search history. These things were your destination.

But a sound coming from somewhere deep in the kitchen threw off your steps and you felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise with the unexpectedness of it.

More than just a sound, you could smell something too. Was that sizzling? Had you accidentally turned the stove on and now your whole apartment was on fire? Was this how you could get rid of the body?

No. You had to get a grip now. That was going too far. You could understand homicide but desecration of a corpse? Ick. That kinda shit was for sickos.

You focused your energy on your destination and took three big steps to cross the living room and placed a hand on the door knob of his room.

The knob clicked noisily when you turned it too quickly and you heard a shuffle coming from the kitchen. A shuffle and then a scrape and you turned at the sound.

“Hey Bug, food’s ready. Come eat. I made your favorite.”

You froze on your feet with your eyes wide open, nose too stuffy to breathe so your mouth hung wide open as well. With tears streaming down your face, made fresh again by the sight of him standing in the kitchen with a white towel draped around his neck, clean wet hair, and a frying pan and spatula in his hand, you gasped.

You had never been quite so relieved to see the sight of your stupid roommate. Overcome, you dropped the bag you carried at your feet and rushed to where he stood with arms raised and the dish he had just finished cooking elevated and you reached for his body with your arms outstretched. When you felt his warmth you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him in for a tight hug.

“Uhh,” he said softly, flinching upon contact and freezing up but first lifting the hot pan high enough to remove any danger of burning you with it. “Why are you crying?”

You squeezed tighter and buried your face in his chest. You’d get his shirt wet with tears and with snot but you didn't care. He was okay. Your overwhelming guilt for your behavior towards him was so thick you had a hard time not sobbing harder when you felt the awkward steps he took to set the hot pan down and free his hands and then that first warmth of the palm of his hand that landed on your back.

When the other hand joined and slipped around your shoulder a quiet cry got caught up inside the back of your throat and you heard a warning sound somewhere. Because the warning did not exist in this realm of reality he did not hear it and another step into you brought his arms tighter around your shoulders and when you felt those hands move gently over your back the warning sound blared up hot and terrifying.

You and him did not do this. This was not something you had ever done with Baekhyun. Sure, light touches sometimes. Plenty, even. Hell, you playfully smacked him for something new and annoying every single day. You weren’t exactly scared of him, but you had never hugged him before and you sure as fuck didn't ever hold him.

“Bug?” His voice was calling you. You had an inkling that it might have been the second or third time and you pulled back from him. His hands released you the second he felt your retreat and you looked at the spot where you’d mashed your whole face into his shirt wincing at all the face shaped wet spots you saw there.

He didn't seem bothered by it and you inhaled a deep trembling breath with a meaningless nod of your head at him. Whatever had happened didn’t matter. Everything was fine. Everything was over and it was okay. He was okay too.

He offered a small smile and turned to get two bowls to fill with the food he had made.

It was fried rice. Simple, no frills fried rice with a fried egg on top and just enough spice to make it interesting but not enough to activate any more water works. It was his favorite and you were pretty sure he didn't actually know how to make any other dishes. But hadn’t he just said he made your favorite?

“Baek, This isn’t my favorite. This is your favorite.”

He placed a bowl in front of where you sat and he lifted a quizzical eyebrow with a small tick of his head.

“No, it’s not my favorite. It’s your favorite. You make it all the time. And that’s why I made it now. Because it's your favorite.”

As he spoke, he pointed back and forth between you and the bowl of rice with his spoon. As if he was teaching a class on something you obviously didn’t know the first thing about.

“But I only make it all the time because it's your favorite, Peanut.”

You picked up your spoon and mixed the egg into the rice and began eating quickly out of necessity. You were about to pass out from hunger at this point.

He was watching you eat with that confused look on his face and he hadn’t touched his rice yet.

“Well whose favorite is it then?”

You shrugged and swallowed another bite. You were half finished with your bowl already and Baekhyun looked down and scooped up the egg from the top of his own rice with his spoon, leaning forward to plop it down on top of your remaining rice.

“Please tell me you at least like eggs on top.”

“Doesn’t everybody?” You remarked flippantly and you mixed again, feeling so much more human now that you had some real food in your stomach.

He was leaning back in his chair, fingertips over his face as he lightly massaged at the space between his eyebrows and you giggled to yourself with a mouth full of rice.

“I thought I killed you, Baekhyun.”

You heard him snort out a laugh and he quickly covered his mouth with both of his hands before he spat out all over the table. You yourself had to cover your mouth to keep your rice in and you laughed in a painful stifled way to keep from choking on the food in your mouth.

“You made me eat so many fucking cheese puffs I’m not even hungry right now.” He wheezed through his words and you saw him wiping at his eyes while you forced yourself to swallow before rice flew out of your nose.

He was holding his stomach as he laughed and the tight pained wince on his face only made you laugh harder.

You had eaten all you could and Baekhyun abandoned his food before he even started due to a certain cheese puff armed psychopath.

You’d stood to clear away the plates when you heard the hum of his phone vibrating on the table. You’d made your way into the kitchen when his voice piped up from where he was seated at the table staring down at whatever he had just received on his phone.

“Hey, uhh...h-how should I respond to this girl?”

“Girl? Baekhyun are you chatting with someone?” You perked up, instantly way more interested in what was happening on his phone than washing these dishes and you quickly rounded the corner back into the dining room to find out more.

“Oh wait, nevermind, I think...I don’t think she’s serious.” His voice weakened when his phone vibrated again and you’d reached a spot where you could clearly see the messages he had just received.

From Vixxxen18 again. You rolled your eyes hard enough for them to ache just seeing that familiar screen name.

“Ugh, this bitch again,” you said in a disgusted voice and you saw the flinch in his shoulders. He darkened a shade and you quickly grabbed the phone to steady it so you could clearly see what she wanted this time.

‘Hey honey, DTF tonight?’

You read the message out loud and he held his hands over his face and squirmed in his seat.

“Peanut do you know what DTF means?”

“Yes. I know what it means.” He interrupted you before you could get the whole sentence out. His ears were pink. You heard the clench of his jaw muffle his words as he spoke.

Her next message you didn’t read out-loud.

‘Spot me 50 for gas and I’ll come over’

“Gas doesn’t cost fifty dollars,” you scowled under your breath and your fingers were typing before you had a chance to second think.

‘Shouldn’t we get to know each other a little bit first?’

Her response came quickly and made your blood boil.

‘What makes you think I want to know you’

“Oh I’m going to kick her ass,” you said right before the phone was plucked out of your hands so fast you still moved your thumbs as you typed in the air, ready to give this bitch a piece of your mind.

“Settle down, Cheese Puffs, she's actually not that bad most of the time,” he said and he was closing out the messaging program quickly before you could say anything else to literally the worst human being you’d ever had a two second conversation with.

Your breathing was heavy and you must have had a look in your eyes that made him uncomfortable because he was reaching down to grab your hand and he tugged lightly toward the living room sofa. He was swiping with his other hand on his phone again.

“Here, I have some matches on the dating profile you made me. Why don't we have a look through them and find someone who’s ass you don't want to kick.”

He plopped down with a huff and you quickly sat down beside him, leaning well against his arm so you could see his screen clearly.

“God, you’re so mean today. What’s gotten into you? Ever since you woke up from that dream last night you’ve been ready to kill anyone who moves.”

You’d taken over the scrolling and found yourself lost in the freedom of judging the girls on his phone screen as he mused about what a grump you were.

Boring. Bland. Brainless. Vapid. Ugh.

As you flipped through them you not so quietly voiced how much you hated every one of them. Sure, for someone they could have been perfect but for him, they were not. His complaints about you went silent and as he watched the scrolling.

At last you found someone who seemed to fit some sort of idealized image you had of the perfect girl for him and you stopped scrolling instantly with a quiet gasp. He wasn’t saying anything about her though and you looked up excitedly at his face expecting him to be reading the profile she had carefully written, or looking through the pictures you oh so slowly scrolled past but instead of looking down at the phone his eyes were just watching you.

It was an odd and calm observation of only your face. And when you grabbed ahold of his eyes with your searching ones you raised your eyebrows and tilted your head down, pointing with the angle of your face at his phone screen so he could see her, so he could see Mia who lived only 5 miles away from him and had seen all of the animes that he liked and played the same kinds of computer games he played and was honest to god, cute as a damn button. Perfect! You wanted to squeal.

“Peanut,” you whispered and his eyes widened and his eyebrows danced on his face as he finally, finally looked down in his lap where the phone sat.

But the screen was now black. It had timed out. You clicked on a button on the side and it prompted him to log in again and what was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he unlocking it already? You grabbed his hand and his eyes glanced down where you touched his fingertips, carefully tracing with his index finger over the pattern he used to unlock his phone and it came back to life — the smiling, lovely image of Mia who lived only 5 miles away and was just absolutely perfect.

“Bug,” He said softly as he looked down at his phone screen and your smile was naturally wide as he watched each image fly across his screen. The anticipation of his reaction was killing you. He had to be as excited about this as you were. He at least seemed to be paying attention to the pictures this time.

But he wasn't squealing or even smiling about her. The silence on his side got you talking again. A quick nervous sort of talking to fill up the quiet. “She’s cute. And she's nice, I can feel it. And she's perfect for you. Let’s message her.”

You lifted a finger to your chin and thrust your eyes into the air to think. You thought back to some of the opening lines you’d been fed by the men you dated and you opened the window to send a message to Mia from Baekhyun.

“Bug,” he said again, even quieter than he had called before and it stood out to you that he had been trying for a while to get your attention now and you were so distracted with how much fun this was that you hadn’t really acknowledged him. You were being presumptuous. Just because you liked her didn’t necessarily mean he did. It even occurred to you that maybe you were being downright rude.

So you looked at him. Lifted your eyebrows up and rested the phone back down on his knee cap so he would say what he wanted to say already. You braced for the rejection of the cutest girl in his list of matches.

But instead of speaking he just looked at you and you slowly began to hear the actual ticking of the clock on the wall across the room from where you both sat. After much too long his eyes fell to look down the phone in your hand and you heard the smallest, softest scoff from his chest and he closed his eyes once with a long sigh.

And then he was nodding his head with his eyes closed up tight. “Yeah. Yeah, go ahead, send her a message. If you say she’s perfect, then she’s perfect.”

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Tag list: @j-pping @blahblahblah-boo @his-mochi-cheeks @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13 @baekinmylife @insta1010 @nana-banana @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth @beg0neth0t420

#Baekhyun #Exo #Baekhyun fic #Exo fic #Baekhyun fanfic #Exo fanfic #baekhyun smut #exo smut #baekhyun fluff #exo fluff #baekhyun exo

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 3 years ago

Text

Kisses and Near Misses (Riff x Reader) Part 7

Summary: Repercussions to one’s actions are never nice to face.

AN: Thanks for the patience. My laptop is behaving funny so I gotta get it sorted out. I’m also thinking of adding another chapter to this, but I gotta talk with my beta about it since I want this series to come out completely and not get left behind like so many of my others fics.

Chapter content warnings: physical violence (a man punches and kicks another man) but not detailed, mentions of blood and bruises, knife (shown, not used)

Previous Part // Masterlist // Next Part

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The Incident

A tinkling of a bell caught Y/N’s attention as he thanked Valentina for the chocolate bars. They were poised above his pockets, ready to be dropped in, as a Shark entered the drug store. Manolo, that’s what Y/N had overheard the other night, the same one he had bumped into at the dance, and Manolo presently had slowed his pace to a crawl as he moved in front of Y/N.

“Excuse me,” Y/N said quietly, gesturing to the direction he wanted to go.

Manolo maintained his sluggish speed as he pivoted around, “You enjoy the dance last night?”

“Yes, and you?”

“I did.”

“Good.”

Manolo smiled, though it did not feel welcoming, “Glad to be acquainted with the newest Jet at last.”

A hint of eye contact was made before Y/N turned his back to the shop. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t deny it; perhaps he sensed it would make things worse for him.

It could not be predicted that he had been followed to the shop and was still being tailed down to his home by that same Shark. Y/N’s instinct was to curl up until it was over, which it was very quickly once he’d hit the pavement.

“Think you can throw a punch at me then run off like un cobarde?”

And Manolo spat at him, leaving him there.

The half-moon was barely visible above the glow of the New York skyline. Yet it was bright enough to keep Y/N awake, the cold pretending to be a coat. So weak was his stomach from the stamp that he could not cry out in pain or for help. He wobbled under his tender knee, the brick wall that had damaged his face now providing a crutch. Wheezing through his teeth – which remained intact despite the punch – rose ahead of him in fog, drifting up to the heavens and his eyes followed them there. That half-moon reminded him of Riff’s eye. It watched over him and assured that Y/N would not join the stars tonight.

Riff wasn’t home when he arrived. His original plan was accomplished before he gathered warm water into a bowl with his softest cloth at its side. That was the pro. The con was that Y/N got a front row seat Riff entering the apartment and seeing the damage immediately. He got to watch the joy drain from his face, his hands coming up to study Y/N’s face, his knees colliding horribly with the kitchen floor. Riff’s restless eyes could have eclipsed on themselves with the space they covered.

“What happened?”

Y/N wanted to answer, to say he was ok. But all words stoppered up his throat and made only a whimper. He saw Riff’s half-moon eye look upon him with frantic worry and he had to smile, even if it stung in his cheeks and his heart.

“Y/N, who did this to you?”

The realisation hit Riff like a ton of bricks, just as the shift from dread to rage hit Y/N when he said:

“I’ll kill ‘em. I’ll kill ‘em all.”

Y/N shook his head, but Riff had kissed his forehead and was already back on his feet in his room. His bedside drawer slammed open, “They can’t get away with this! They won’t.”

Following with shaking hands, Y/N lost all air in his lungs at the sight of Riff’s switchblade. As his legs threatened to buckle, he could only let out a crestfallen, “I need you here.”

His body would have fallen but the clatter of a weapon on the rug as well as two strong hands guided him over to the bed. Suddenly all the air came rushing back and Y/N could cry at last. As he folded in on himself, he found that Riff too was crying.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” He said, sniffing hard at the end of his promise.

The flannel and warm water were retrieved to Riff’s room, and he cleaned up the rest of Y/N’s face, never shushing his flinching or telling him off for crying. After finding out the hard way that he couldn’t bend over, Y/N sheepishly accepted help in getting into his pyjama pants. Thankfully, Riff had been more considerate of his knees as he knelt in front of his boyfriend. He kissed the boot mark on Y/N’s stomach gently while Y/N stroked through his hair. It soothed his mind, allowed the weight of his consequences sink in properly.

A question circling the edges of Y/N’s mind came to the front just when he thought that perhaps he could rest for the evening. He was curled on Riff’s chest, playing with his necklace chain, in the comfort of his room, and neither of them were trying to sleep – just relax in the other’s company. Something spiked in his gut but it wasn’t the injuries.

“Do you think they know?” Y/N asked, hoping the fear of future fights didn’t leak into his question.

Riff didn’t reply immediately, but his response was sure, “It’d be a lot worse if they did. He was just trying to shake you cus they think you’re in the Jets.”

“It worked.”

“I’ll make ‘em pay.”

“Don’t. I don’t go near them, I’ll be fine.”

“If they do this because you shoved one of them at a random dance-”

“I don’t want you putting yourself in danger just cus I couldn’t catch a few punches. And kicks.”

Riff’s cheek lifting from the spot of Y/N’s forehead that was scab free, Riff went to adjust the pillow, then his brow knitted together. His hand withdrew from the pillowcases with a bar of chocolate.

“The Tooth Fairy’s been,” He said, bemused but delighted.

“It’s a down payment,” and Y/N mimed a pitiful punch at the ceiling, “She’s comin’ back swingin’ for one of your pearly whites.” It was a shit attempt to make light of the situation. Riff encouraged it nevertheless.

“Let her try.” Tearing off the paper and foil, Riff placed the top two unbroken squares between his front teeth.

“Want some?” he asked around the snack.

His words were not perfect but the gesture was. Y/N tilted his head and tried not to laugh as he bit a segment off. His nose knocked Riff’s regardless as they went back into their spots on the bed, sucking and chewing their chocolate squares with lighter hearts.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

No real commentary besides the fact that white tears can spark a big reaction in white folks. Obviously he doesn’t deserve to be beat up and the white tears thing is not what Y/N is intending but he has a lot of power in this situation.

Manolo is retaliating to a situation that Y/N downplayed in his own mind.

Also I’m saying that Riff is using the $500 relocation cheque mentioned by Meche in the “I Feel Pretty” scene to pay for his rent.

---> ---> ---> ---> --->

Riff tag: @that1fanficwriter

#west side story fanfic #riff fanfic #riff x reader #wss 2021 #riff imagine #west side story imagine #riff west side story #my writing #wc: >1k #x male reader #series

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sirthisisa-wendys · 4 years ago

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Kohai Geto x Senpai Reader, #4, 8, 27 , I honestly would think it would hilarious if the reader is dense and Geto is living the "senpai notice me" meme.

The absolute EVIL laugh I let out at the end of this, oh my god. I swear my neighbors think I'm a maniacal psychopath by now.

The Case of the Missing Underwear: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

WC: 1.2k

TW: none

Your little kohai is never far behind you.

Well, Geto Suguru isn’t little. He’s taller than you but definitely shadows you like a lost puppy.

“Y/n-senpai, do you need anything?” he wonders, towering over the gas station aisle as he picks through snacks for class 2B’s road trip. “I’ll pay, no sweat.” You finger a gossip magazine, popping your bubblegum before looking at the skyscraper of a man over your sunglasses.

“A shred of patience would be great,” you retort, and his face deflates for a second before he grabs some candy at random.

“Airheads it is.” You nod, then look back to the SUV where Gojo is fueling up. You can’t wait to get to the hotel and rest, and you hope Satoru booked two rooms instead of the one room he threatened you with previously. Nothing could be worse than having to share a bed with any of the three kohais.

But you’re proven wrong. Again.

When you all arrive at your separate rooms, you see the single bed in the room you’re supposed to share with the other half of the “strongest” duo.

“Uh-uh,” you turn around to face Geto, whose lips are pursed thoughtfully. “Go tell Gojo to switch rooms with me.”

“And have him sleep in the same bed as me? Oh, no way,” Geto shakes his head furiously. “Have you heard that man snore?” You reflect on the fact that Shoko snores too, then place your hands on your hips.

“Fine. We share the bed. But no funny business, Suguru.” Geto places his hand at a salute cheerfully.

“No worries, y/n-senpai. I’ll be on my best behavior. No handsy stuff, no getting frisky, no--”

“Okay; I get it, I get it!”

_____________________________________________________________

No underwear.

You lean against the bathroom sink and groan, shifting through your bag one more time to check and make sure that you in fact had not packed a single article of underwear. When it’s confirmed that you definitely forgot it back at the dorms, you exhaled deeply. You have options, you muse. Shoko could lend you a pair until you could find a store to buy some - which would be an hour away from wherever you are now, but you digress. Or, you could ask one of the boys to take you-- Nope. You shake your head at the idea. Too embarrassing. You pull on a pair of night shorts and carry your things out of the bathroom, hoping Gojo wouldn’t be anywhere nearby so you could run over to Shoko’s room and discuss your dilemma.

When you exit the bathroom, your eyes are met with Geto pulling off his shirt and rolling it over his head in one smooth motion. His back is facing you, and you notice all of the muscles and dips of his flesh around his sculpted body. Your cheeks heat up at the thought of him naked, and you look away quickly as he turns around, his bare chest sure to make you wonder further - you know, into territory you shouldn’t wander when considering your kohai.

“Oh, you’re done already?” Geto wonders then tosses his towel over his shoulder before picking up his nightclothes. “Cool. Hope you left some warm water for me, y/n. If not, we’ll have to shower together from now on,” he chuckles as he brushes past you and shuts the door to the bathroom. Your heart rate shoots up to astronomical levels as you panic, leaving the room and dashing over to Shoko’s.

After a few rounds of knocking, the sleep-riddled face of your friend appears in the doorway.

“What?” she moans, rubbing her eyes.

“Do you have any spare underwear? I think I left mine at the dorms.” When the reality of what you’re asking Shoko sets in, she busts out into laughter and you grimace in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

“I never wear underwear! Have fun being naked with Geto!” She shuts the door in your face and you trudge back to the room with a long face. Just as you’re entering the room, Geto is leaving the bathroom, and you smack head-first into his back, his wet… hard as hell... back.

“Whoa, there,” Suguru admonishes you as you careen backward and try to catch your balance on the door handle. You try to stand up again, but you’re too disoriented to do so, you realize as you fall forwards, trying to grasp at something… anything. Your hands find the cotton of a towel, but obviously, that isn’t enough to keep you upright because it falls with you. “Hey!”

As you lay face-first on the floor, you come to realize two things: one, your face is going to sport a bruise from the fall in the morning, and two, you grabbed Suguru’s towel straight off of his lower body. And now he’s naked. The towel is snatched from your hands and Suguru mutters,

“If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked, senpai.”

“Not my intention!” you reply as you stand slowly, hands steadying on the dresser by the door. When you look in the mirror above it, you see a slight rug burn forming on the bridge of your nose. The pain suddenly sets in, and you hiss, trying not to touch the wound with your fingers.

“Shit,” Geto curses and pulls your face toward his. You’re inches away from the admittedly handsome man as he examines your face carefully. “You need to be more careful.” He leads you back to the bathroom and lifts you up onto the counter, rummaging around in the first aid kit beneath to find some ointment. When Suguru finds what he’s looking for, he stands up again, bringing an ointment-covered finger up to your nose. When he presses it to your wound, you inhale sharply, and he whispers, “Just look at me. Forget everything else.” You refocus your eyes on his face, and he finishes his work with a large band-aid across the bridge of your nose. “There.”

You slide down from the counter, blinking and moving your nose a little. “Thanks, Suguru.”

“No biggie,” he mumbles, washing his hands as you climb into bed. When he climbs in behind you, you don’t seem to notice that he’s also half-naked as he switches off the lights.

“No funny business,” you repeat, laying on your side, and he just laughs.

When you awake in the morning and trudge to the bathroom, still tired and bleary-eyed, you notice Suguru left his bag in there and drag it out, not wanting to get it wet. But as you place it against the wall, you see the familiar red color of one of the panties you swore you brought along with you. When you yank it out, all of your underwear is revealed to be stuffed in his bag. Rage rips through you at the sight, and you hurl the garments at Geto, who is still asleep.

“Wake the fuck up!” Suguru lifts up out of the bed, blinking away sleep as he feels the fabric of the underwear on his face.

“Shit, y/n. You could be a little more subtle about throwing your underwear at me.”

“What the hell was it doing in your suitcase?” you growl, and Suguru frowns deeply.

“Huh?”

“My underwear. Was in. Your suitcase!”

“Listen, I have no idea what--”

The raucous sound of Gojo’s obnoxious laughter rings out through the walls, and that’s all the answer you need to know that Six Eyes would have one less pair of eyes to rely on when you were done with him.

#geto suguru #geto x reader #getou x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #getou suguru

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lvtflooringdubai12121 · 2 years ago

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tomh5189 · 2 years ago

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Office Carpets Tiles Abu Dhabi

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mmvalentine · 4 years ago

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The Bargain pt 11 | Feysand

Modern AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10. Just a little more smut, yeah?

Rhys woke up early and traced patterns lightly on Feyre’s skin as she slept.

They had just one more day together before he flew home to New York, but in the pale dawn light and with Feyre’s even breaths beneath his fingers, he couldn’t for the life of him think of why he needed to go back.

After a moment, Feyre stirred.

“Making me more tattoos, are you?” she mumbled, without opening her eyes. Rhys chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” “Why?” Feyre asked muzzily. She rolled around to face him, all smudged mascara and sleep-swollen lips. Beneath the sheets, Rhys was hard in an instant.

"Because I wanted to let you sleep." “But we only have one more day,” she said, and looked so cute when she frowned that it broke Rhys’ heart a little. He pulled her body over his, loving how soft she was all over, and kissed her nose.

"And what would you like to do with this one more day?" he asked her. Had not meant to add any suggestions of his own, but the way she was nuzzling into his chest, still waking slowly, had his hips sliding under her. Feyre's eyes widened a little, and colour bloomed on her cheeks.

"I could think of one thing," she breathed. "We don't have to-" Rhys started to say, but got cut off as Feyre put her lips on his throat. His words broke off into a stifled moan as the heat of her hovered just below his navel.

Her hands slid over his collar bones and around the back of his neck, and she was so marvelously warm on top of him. Next thing he knew, her tongue had made a blazing trail down his sternum, over his stomach, and around the head of his cock. Rhys gasped, and gripped the bars of the headboard hard enough for them to creak in protest.

When Feyre slid her mouth down over the length of him, Rhys's hips jerked forward reflexively.

"Sorry," he muttered, trying to hold still. But Feyre just moved her lips lower, letting him hit the back of her throat and sucking hard on the way back up. Rhys groaned, and the sound seemed to encourage her. She moved her head back and forth and the world shifted in and out of focus.

"That... feels amazing," Rhys told her, watching her move over his body. Feyre didn't reply, just kept up a steady rhythm until Rhys could barely stand it.

"You're going to have to slow down," he managed to get out. Feyre shook her head 'no,' and decidedly did not slow down. "Seriously," Rhys said between gritted teeth. "I'm not going to be much use you you in a second."

Feyre lifted her head long enough to say, "we don't have anymore condoms anyway," and then resumed her motion. Used her hand at the same time to cover the length of him. Rhys's hips arced up off the bed to meet her touch, and one hand moved through her hair before he realised he had reached out.

"Feyre stop I'm gonna come," he said, jaw clenched. But she showed no intention of doing any such thing. "Feyre." His control crumbled, and he started fucking hard into her mouth. She didn't pull back. "Feyre I'm gonna..." And then he was coming and she was swallowing him down and the sight of it was so unbearably sexy that his climax stretched on even after he was empty.

Feyre crawled back up his chest, kissed him with his own cum still on her tongue, and then promptly took a snooze right there on top of him like a cat. Rhys just watched her in wonder, and stroked her bare back while she slept.

Fifteen minutes later, she woke, they kissed lazily in bed and then in the shower, and then they strolled down the road to the bakery. And to the chemist.

On the way, Feyre chatted about Berlin sights she thought Rhys needed to see, iconic street art she could show him, and the best food in town. Rhys nodded along, saying very little and being content to watch Feyre animated and enthusiastic.

And he did want to do all of those things, wanted to go anywhere Feyre took him. Really, he did.

But then they got back to the hotel room, and did not manage to leave it again that day.

Did make love on the edge of the bed, fall off the side and fuck on the floor, get messy and have sex in the shower with their hands pressed up to the glass. Did cover each other's bodies in swirling patterns with black markers and ball point pens found in the hotel drawers. Did take breaks for pretzels and hot chocolate, before beginning again in the tangled white sheets with the 'do not disturb' tag hanging on the door handle outside.

They were just dozing off on the rug, Feyre in nothing but a pair of white cotton panties and black ink, Rhys completely naked, when Tarquin rang, and the sharp intrusion of the outside world in their little bubble was about as welcome to Rhys as a kick in the guts.

Feyre groaned. "Don't answer," she said, her head pillowed on Rhys' stomach. His fingers traced around her navel.

"Hello?" "Rhys! It's Tarquin. How are things over there?" "Fantastic," Rhys said. "We've finished painting and are tidying up now. I was just about to call you and tell you the good news."

Feyre took his fingers and guided them lower. She moaned softly as he pushed light circles onto her clit, over her underwear.

"You have? Wie schöne, that's wonderful news," Tarquin said. "I'll come meet you both up there."

Feyre reached out and stroked his cock while he dipped his fingers under her waistband.

"Actually," Rhys said, forcing his voice to come out evenly, "we're just leaving now. But I would still encourage you to go have a look." "Oh but I want to see it with you," Tarquin argued. "Give my thanks to you both. Shake your hands."

Rhys bit back a laugh. "Don't think you could shake out hands right now." Feyre giggled silently. "They're... covered in paint."

"Ah fair enough, but even figuratively speaking, it'd be good to see you both off." "Love to, Tarquin," Rhys said, eyeing Feyre. She was starting to arch off the floor, and little whimpers were escaping as his fingers sped up. He held a finger to his lips. "Unfortunately we actually have an engagement to get to. We're leaving the site now, and I'm going to eat something but I'll put Feyre on."

He handed the phone to Feyre, and at the same time rolled over her. Slid her underwear down and put his mouth on her pussy. She lifted her hips to him, and then mouthed Naughty, while her eyes sparkled above him.

"Hello?" she said. Breathlessly. "Oh, yes Tarquin do come have a look. It's-" here here breath hitched, "well I'm quite without words, Rhys is ve-ery skilled hmmmm I've been so glad to work with him on this project."

Rhys grinned, and reached his tongue deep inside her. Feyre clamped a hand down on the phone's speaker and bit down hard on her lip.

"No, we won't be there but I would love to... ah... to.. mm, to catch up with you later in the week. Sorry, yes I am a bit... uh... out of breath. We're carrying all the supplies back to my... umm.. my car."

Feyre swatted Rhys' head, but he just sped up his tongue on her clit.

"Doyouknowwhat, ah, Tarquin you head up there now, text me what you think and I... I'll speak to you later. Yep. Okay. Yesokaybye."

Feyre hung up the phone, threw it to one side and then moaned so loudly and deeply Rhys felt the vibration in her stomach. She wrapped her legs around his head, put her hands in her hair and pushed herself closer to him. She was hotter than anything, and then Rhys was palming his own cock while he watched writhe on the floor. It wasn't long before she was coming undone on his lips.

When she finally came, Rhys was struck with the desire to draw her, just like this, in gorgeous ecstasy and with the exact colour of the blush across her chest.

The next morning, Rhys was due to get on a plane.

They sat in Feyre's car, with Rhys' bag on the back seat, and sat outside the airport without saying a word. Eventually, Feyre said, "Do you know, I came a long way to get away from my ex, and now all I feel is homesick." "Do you now?" Rhys murmured. "I've honestly thought about moving back to New York. But I packed everything up and left. I have nothing there, I have nowhere to live."

Rhys leaned back in his seat, and grinned lazily at Feyre.

"I'll make you a bargain, Feyre darling," he said. "I'm listening," Feyre replied. "You move back to New York and you can stay with me while you look for somewhere, and then you just move out when you find a place." Feyre considered it. "That would make things easier," she agreed.

"And hey," Rhys continued. "Maybe you like living with me and you never move out." Feyre grinned right back. "Maybe you like me and we live happily ever after."

Rhys shrugged. "Anything could happen," he said. Feyre stuck her hand out.

"It's a deal," she said, and they shook on it. Rhys pulled her in by the hand and kissed her, committing to memory the exact way she tasted.

"Come home soon, then," he whispered. **** Theeeeee end! That's all lovers, thank you so, so much to everyone who has been with me on this super lovely ride. Your comments, reblogs and general love have been deeply appreciated and I am forever grateful. I am a bit sad this one is over.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #fluff #smut #mine

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tojitiddies · 4 years ago

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✰ [GHOST] BUSTING MAKES ME FEEL GOOD

pairing ⋆ connie springer x fem!reader

synopsis ⋆ you don’t know who’s crazier. your ghost hunting boyfriend or you for even dating him.

warnings ⋆ paranormal encounters, slight ghost coercion, oral sex, vaginal sex, creampie

ꔵ there was no doubt about it, your boyfriend connie was an oddball. like tin hat wearing, crazy conspiracist, dark reddit forum odd. his friends often asked him how he’d bagged a chick like you in the first place and honestly you were curious too. you’d met him at a halloween party your best friend mikasa had thrown. one wild night and two awkward dates later you both became that sickeningly sweet couple that everyone hated to love.

at this point in your relationship you had grown used to connie’s random 3AM messages about some spooky forum he’d found or him sending random true crime articles he wanted you to read. he and his roomates jean and sasha all ran a somewhat popular youtube channel — they called themselves “the phantom philosophers” — where they covered different cryptid and ghost stories sent to them by viewers. they also went on numerous ghost hunts to try and speak or communicate with ghosts. you were always curious about your boyfriend’s odd way of life and even appeared on one of his streams once — his subscribers couldn’t believe he had a girlfriend. so, when connie asked you if you wanted to come along with him, jean, and sasha for a ghost hunt you jumped at the opportunity.

that’s exactly how you found yourself in front of an abandoned church while your boyfriend and his friends began setting up their equipment. tonight they were looking for the ghost of a pastor who secretly ran his own brothel beneath the church. one of the women had turned on him and murdered him while they were having sex. the story seemed completely made up, but connie assured you it was legit.

you watched as connie started setting up his body camera and clipping it to his jacket. “so...anything i can help with?” you asked, rocking back on the heels of your sneakers. connie looked up at you as if he’d forgotten you were there. “huh? oh, no babe you’re fine. just stand there looking pretty.” he replied sweetly. you forced a smile towards him, letting it falter when he went back to messing with his equipment. you had only agreed to this because you wanted to spend time with him, but this entire trip he’d been so distracted. you were so used to having his attention all the time, it was starting to take you out of the mood.

you decided to go find out what sasha was doing. she had a boyfriend too, niccolo. he was really nice and an amazing cook. earlier you’d asked her why he didn’t come with you all, to which she told you that niccolo was secretly a huge fraidy cat. when you approached her she was sitting in the trunk of jean’s pick up. she seemed to be really focused on...some sort of device? “what’s that?” you queried, sitting next to her. sasha beamed and shoved it into your lap. “this, my friend, is a modernized proton pack like the ghostbusters use! i’ve been engineering this baby for a couple months now and this is gonna be its first field run!” she squeals as she begins to point out all the functions and uses of the device. it looked sort of like a portable cd player.

while sasha babbled on about her “precious baby” jean and connie approached you both, equipment and cameras ready. “here you are ____.” jean presented you with a headlamp and a frequency tuner. “now first rule of ghost hunting, do not be on your own. you’re always gonna want a buddy. i’m assuming connie will fill that role?” he asked, looking between the two of you. you were still annoyed with him but you nodded anyway. you’d bring it up when the two of you were alone. “alright then. sasha you’re with me. and don’t even think about trying to spook me this time, i took self defense lessons and i’ll definitely clock you this time.” he scolded, to which sasha responded by rolling her eyes. “oh please, it was just a joke pony boy.” she taunted. jean shot her a glare. “keep it up.” he warned before turning back to you.

“second rule, do not under any circumstances curse a ghost. not only will that anger the ghost and make it mad at you, it will also get mad at everyone else and we don’t want any part of your beef. so keep it to yourself.” it was your turn to roll your eyes. “jean you don’t need to mansplain ghost hunting to me, i’m not stupid. plus i watch you guys’ channel all the time.” you say, sliding off the truck and situating the headlamp on. “i’m ready to get to some ghostbustin!” sasha hops up and high fives you. connie laughs and wraps his arm around your waist. “ah don’t worry jean, i’ll be with her the whole time.” jean stares blankly between the three of you before shaking his head.

“whatever. connie go ahead and start your body cam. it’s time to head in.” connie chuckles at jean’s annoyance and switches on the camera, a small red light peeps out to signal it’s recording. jean has one on as well, tapping his slightly to test it out. “alright gang, buckle up. i’m trying to meet a horny ghost.” he said with a grin, beginning his march into the church, the three of you following close behind.

ꔵ inside the church it was dusty and reeked of mildew. you pinched your nose as you and the others switched on your headlights. “jesus christ, it fucking stinks.” connie remarks. sasha elbows him in the rib. “dude we’re in a haunted church, you can’t take the lord’s name in vain.” she scolds him before crossing her shoulders in silent prayer. you giggle as connie rolls his eyes at sasha’s ridiculous antics. a strong gust of wind blows through the church, causing the front entrance to slam shut. you shriek, grabbing ahold of connie’s arm while sasha laughs at your frightened behavior. “don’t worry ____, ‘s just the wind.” connie reassures you, rubbing your shoulder.

“alright guys enough fucking around. it’s time to split up and cover more ground.” jean says, taking charge. “sasha, you and i are gonna explore the chapel and the pastor’s office. connie and ____, you both are going down to the abandoned brothel in the basement.” he instructs. connie groans and folds his arms. “seriously? that’s probably where his ghost is hiding.” connie complains. you tense up at that. it was only your first ghost hunt and they were sending you right into the fire. “that’s the point dumbass? sasha and i will be up here gathering frequencies and seeing if we can find any phantom residue. if you two can get in contact with the pastor, we can probably record his frequencies from up here to listen back later.” he explains.

sasha pulls some weird tool from her fanny pack, holding it up. “this is mission is perfect for using my tuning fork! i’ve been wanting to try this for ages.” she squeals, her voice echoing through the church. “damn sasha, lower your voice.” jean mutters, to which she responds with another giggle mumbling out a quiet “sorry”. jean looks back to the two of you. “well we have our assignments, lets get this show on the road my fellow philosophers.” jean salutes you both and opens the doors to the chapel, sasha waves and follows after him before shutting the door behind them. “jerk.” connie mutters under his breath. you squeeze his hand and smile up at him.

“c’mon connie, i wanna see my boyfriend bust some ghosts.” you say, hoping to cheer him up a little. connie nodded, barely acknowledging your attempt before starting to head off towards the doors leading to the basement. “alright babe, stick close. i have no idea what’s down here.” he instructed. you hummed in disinterest and began to follow him in his descent. amazing! astonishing even! you were practically throwing yourself at him, yet your boyfriend was still more interested in some stinky old pastor ghost. as you traveled deeper downstairs, the air around you began to get warmer like a stuffy room. by the time you’d gotten down to the basement there was a humid temperature surrounding you.

“is it to supposed to feel so warm down here?” you asked, taking connie’s hand to be as close as possible to him. connie whipped his head around the basement floor shining his headlamp on all the different doors. “you would think it’d be cold with all this concrete, it’s weird.” he finally answered, switching on his frequency tuner. you followed his movements and did the same. “good weird or bad weird?” you asked again, growing a bit concerned. connie shrugged before making his way towards one of the doors, his frequency tuner picking up. you glared at him, having had enough of his nonchalant attitude.

seduce him.

you blinked as the thought came from seemingly nowhere. you shook your head, deciding to ignore it. you watched connie peak into the room that was making his frequency tuner go off the wire, letting out a gasp. “____! you’ve gotta come see this!” he exclaims, grinning back at you before making his way inside. you follow after him, curious to see what surprised him so much that he actually acknowledged your existence. when you stepped inside you were surprised to find the room...spotless? there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. the decorative rugs and tapestries that hung on the walls created an erotic atmosphere. the large bed looked clean and comfortable as well, an oil lamp sitting on the bedside. “i thought this church was abandoned, who’s doing the upkeep?” you observed, still taken aback by the surprisingly clean and crisp room. connie pressed his hand down on the bed, feeling it out. “no idea. even the mattress and blankets feel fresh.” he marveled.

seduce him and gain his favors!

this time the thought echoed louder through your head, making you feel a bit lightheaded. your knees buckled causing you to drop down to the floor. connie whipped his head around in shock, instantly rushing to see if you were alright. “you okay baby?” he asked, concern lacing his words. you nodded and took his hand to help you stand back up. almost as instantly as you were back on your feet you felt the pressure in your head drop to your chest and then to your arousal. you let out a small whimper at the sudden wave of pleasure that came out of nowhere. connie pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, his touch felt like lightning.

“are you sure you’re okay? maybe we should — “ the door to the bedroom slammed shut behind you, but you didn’t really care. all you could think about was satisfying the sudden hunger that had come over you. connie jiggled the doorknob trying to get the door back open, curses spilling out of his lips. you sauntered up behind him, snaking your arms around his waist, swirling them up to lay your hands on his pecs. “wha — ____?” he turned his head to his shoulder, trying to get a view of you. you giggled and kissed his shoulder. “awh baby, we can stay in here and get comfy.” you whine, pressing yourself against him. connie tensed up in your embrace, caught off guard by your sudden switch in attitude. the oil lamp beside the bed flickered on, casting the room in a warm dim orange glow. connie grabbed your hands and snatched them off his chest. he spun around to face you, cupping your face in his hands.

“____, hey get ahold of yourself!” he tried snapping you out of it, his fingers popping between your eyes. you leaned up and kissed him under his chin. “i want you to get ahold of me.” you murmured, grabbing his wrists to place his hands on your waist. you batted your eyelashes at him with those puppy dog eyes you knew he couldn’t resist. connie gulped, his hand hands instinctively squeezing around your waist. “y-you’re not yourself, this isn’t right.” he muttered under his breath, more so talking to himself.

you snaked your arms up and around his shoulders walking back into the bed, flipping around to push him into the bed. “you made me very upset, ignoring me all night for your dumb ghost hunt.” you said, planting yourself in his lap, running your thumb along his lips. “how are you going to make it up to me?” connie frowns furrowing his brows. you don’t even wait for him to answer before letting your head fall to the side, kissing over the expanse of his neck.

connie shivered, falling prey to your advances. you snatched off both your headlamps in a playful demeanor while your other hand trailed down to the seat of his pants, letting your fingers splay out across his crotch. “____…w-wait a moment.” he breathed, letting out a slight moan when you squeezed your hand around his clothed length. you giggled softly, slithering from his thigh to between his legs. you nudged his crotch with your nose, looking back at up at him. his face was flushed and his eyes were glazed over with lust. that was all the indication you needed to begin to undoing his jeans.

your mind was clouded with thoughts of your boyfriend fucking your mouth and praising you with all the attention you’d yearned for. you pulled down his pants and boxers, licking your lips at his erect cock, leaking with precum. taking your thumb to his tip, you gently began to spread around the sticky substance. your tongue darted out to kitten lick the little mess you made, leaving connie hissing and squirming. “you’re such a tease.” he grunted. you grinned up at him knowingly before tilting your head to kiss along the length of his shaft.

connie desperately bucked his hips slightly as your kisses became wet and suctioning. done teasing him, you eagerly wrapped your lips around him sucking his tip before bobbing your head further. your tongue swirled around his shaft expertly, causing him to groan and buck his hips. you moan as his cock travels further down your throat, the vibrations of your voice stimulating him further.

“fuck baby…keep sucking me in just like that.” he huffs out, trying to keep his moans from pitching. his hands nestle in your hair, bringing your head down further. you relaxed your jaw as he continued to fuck your mouth, saliva collecting and dripping down your chin. connie bucked his hips into your mouth with fervor, you could tell he was close. “your throat feels so fucking good around me, keep swallowing me down just like that.” he praised, letting his head fall back against his shoulders.

he takes another deep thrust before you feel him spill his thick warm release down your throat. his cock twitches on your tongue as you slowly drag his length from your mouth. connie sits breathless on the bed, panting from the climax he’d just had, but you weren’t finished. you rose back up to your feet and stripped off your jeans and panties before crawling on top of him. with your hands slowly lifting your shirt over your head, you ground your wet cunt against the underside of his length.

connie stared up at you, his daze apparent on his face. “my turn.” you whisper, kissing the side of his mouth. you raised your hips slightly positioning his cock at your entrance before sinking down. you whimpered as you felt him filling you up all at once. connie took ahold of your hips, hissing as you clenched around him. “shit…your pussy loves sucking me in.” he groaned, bucking his hips again.

you whine, rocking your hips back against him. “it’s because i wanna feel you, right here.” you move your hand to your lower stomach, where you wanted to feel connie push against. connie smirked, lifting his knees up on and raising you up to hover over him slightly. “i can do that for you baby.” he growled into your ear before rapidly thrusting his cock into you. you grabbed ahold of his shoulders as he bucked into you, trying to keep your balance.

connie kept his word, fucking you balls deep with no mercy. you were so overwhelmed by pleasure you didn’t realize how loud you’d become. the oil lamp flickered as connie swiftly switched positions so you were on your back. he pushed your thighs back exposing your wet cunt that gaped for connie’s cock. he smirked and spit against you clit rising a whine from your throat. he chuckled cruelly before burying his cock back inside of you, his thrusts causing you to lurch up against the bed.

you clawed your hands over his his shoulder blades as he fucked you deep. “you feel so good, don’t stop!” you moan, arching you back as he hits your sweet spot. connie groaned from the way. you squeezed around him before leaning down to kiss you, his tongue swirling around yours. the sinful noises that came from between you both, echoing through the room. connie moved his lips across your jaw, praising you as he kissed and sucked your skin. you dazedly let your head fall to the side.

then you saw him.

a young man dressed in preachers robes, watching you both intently. you cried out clinging to connie — connie assumed it was a moan and continued to fuck into you. the preacher grinned at you and faded from your eyesight. just then connie let out a grunt. “shit baby, i’m gonna cum.” you were too dumbfounded to respond but it didn’t matter. connie had already grabbed your waist, pulling you down on his cock faster. the movement shocked you out of your mindstate, making you forget about the whole “pervy preacher ghost in the corner of the room” thing.

“fuck connie keep going!” you whine, your hand coming to grab your tits to keep them from bouncing out of your bra. connie fucked you like that until your legs became jelly and you creamed all over his cock. just as you were catching your breath connie came inside you, spilling his thick seed all over your walls. connie collapsed into your chest taking deep breaths.

“shit.” he breathed out, his hand squeezing your waist. “you okay baby?” he asked, tilting his head back to look at you. you smiled and nodded, massaging his short silvery hair. connie seemed to have a thought of realization and frowned. “i’m sorry ____. i should’ve done more to make you feel like i wanted you here. i must’ve looked like such an asshole. i was so focused on busting ghosts, i forgot the most important thing i wanted out of this was to introduce my girl to my uh…hobbies.” the sincerity in his eyes had you swooning. you cupped his cheek and leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “you’re forgiven.”. you say, before sitting up.

not a good idea.

your head was spinning. you moaned and grabbed your head, massaging it. “____? baby, what’s wrong?” connie asked worriedly, sitting up as well. then just as quick as the dizziness came, it went. you blinked. “i have no idea. maybe you just fucked me too hard, hm?” you teased, poking his shoulder. connie pressed the back of his hand against your forehead. you couldn’t read his expression, tho it looked like a mix between a shock, confusion, and disappointment. in short, nothing good. “what?” you ask.

connie shook his head. “this is gonna sound crazy, but do you think you were possessed?” he blurted out. you bit your lip, remembering the preacher and the strange echoing voice in your head. “ah…maybe? but i wanted that, it was me no one was controlling me. it just felt more like someone was egging me on.” you explained. even coming from your own mouth it sounded delusional. “oh my god connie, did i get possessed?!” you squealed, snapping your legs shut.

connie laughed and leaned forward, pulling you into his embrace. “no it wasn’t possession baby. just a bit of paranormal influence, like in the poltergeist.” this did not reassure you whatsoever, but connie was already sliding off the bed. “c’mon let’s go back upstairs and see what jean and sasha found. don’t tell them what happened okay? jean’ll kill the shit out of me.” he chuckled, kissing the top of your forehead. you did once over of the room again to make sure there was no ghost priest hiding in here before starting to get dressed again.

ꔵ “finally you two are here! you’ve gotta come see this!” sasha exclaimed as she saw the both of you approaching. sasha and jean had hooked up some sort of computer and were huddled around it. “what is it you?” connie questioned, taking your hand and hurrying you towards them. you smiled, relieved that he had meant what he said and was starting to finally include you. “it seems like whatever you guys did down there worked! we recorded these weird frequencies and we think we might have caught the pastors attention.” jean said, clicking around the screen.

you and connie exchanged wide eyed glances. “uh…what did you hear?” you asked, instinctively squeezing connie’s hand. jean and sasha shrugged. “nothing, we couldn’t hear it until it finished recording.” jean grinned up at the two of you. “but you arrived at perfect timing, now we can play it back together.” jean pulled up the sound byte. “jean i don’t think — “ connie started to protest, but jean had already pressed the space bar.

the empty church echoed with the sounds of your lewd moans and connie’s sensual praises. the heat rushed into your cheeks as you looked down in shame. you didn’t wanna see anyone else’s facial expressions. after what seemed like forever sasha’s hand darted out to pause it. safe to assume you were never invited to go ghost hunting with you boyfriend and his friends again. however you and connie did some extensive research afterwards.

connie’s body cam had mysteriously became static when he walked into the bedroom, so there was no footage of the ghost — you were honestly just relieved the two of you didn’t film a sex tape. however, apparently the ghost of the priest wandered the church, waiting to lure couples into the brothel rooms so that he could gain pleasure from seeing his brothel still be put to use. seven other couples who had visited the church also reported a strange occurrence where they ended up having sex in the brothel as well. you wondered how jean had missed that key part of research about the ghost.

“we may not have busted that ghost, but he sure made us bust.” connie cackled, nudging you. you gave him a pointed look. “you make awful jokes.” you told him, nudging him back. though the experience was a bit of a mindfucker, it truly brought you and connie closer together.

author’s note: hello again! this took me a really long time to write and yet it still feels really rushed :( i tried to do what i could in the edits but this probably isn’t my favorite. i would appreciate feedback if anyone has any though and if you did actually like it, thank you! i promise i can do way better though lmao </3

#connie x reader #connie smut #connie springer x reader #connie springer #connie springer smut #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot x reader #aot #snk smut #snk #x reader

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thetriggeredhappy · 4 years ago

Note

hi!! i've read most of your fics at this point and you've gotten me obsessed with sniperscout, especially the way you write them! i just wanted to ask, do you know of (or would you ever consider writing) a fic where sniper is kinda self-conscious about his looks and scout reassures him?

sometimes ya boy’s gotta be the one doing the comforting

(no warnings)

He dragged a hand down across his jaw, grimacing lightly to himself, then more firmly at the lines that it drew across his face.

Some days, he wished he didn’t have a mirror. That instead he just... could go back to the way he operated back when he did hunting and tracking. With months at a time on his own, he didn’t particularly need to keep up appearances, and would only go to the trouble of tracking down a pocket mirror when he needed to give himself a haircut or something of the like. Nowadays, though, he was committed to at least looking presentable, which meant pinning a mirror in place above the sink, mostly used for when he shaved.

And... well, now he was checking more often, admittedly. Usually he didn’t bother with worrying about the details of his face and clothes, since nobody tended to look too closely at him anyways. The hat and the shooting glasses and the high collar on his vest tended to do pretty well for him, and it wasn’t like anyone would care.

Except now, someone did.

He dragged a hand up through his hair, frowning at the way it seemed to just do whatever the hell it wanted, here before he had it gelled back. He was due for a haircut, honestly, but every time he cut his hair, by the end of it he felt like the clean cut just drew more attention to how scruffy the rest of him looked.

He drew a thumb against the lines around his eyes as if he could smooth them out somehow. Bared his teeth enough for glare at the slight crookedness and oddness to them, his strangely sharp canines in particular. Tilted his head to either side to ogle the numerous little scars dotting his skin.

And god, that’s just what he could see in the little mirror.

He hated going into the workout room on the base more than anything in the world, because right there by the door, impossible to miss, were the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and he was forced to confront his... his gangly limbs, his shoulders wideset but not thick with muscle, arms long but weak, bony all along his legs and thin in the chest but soft in the middle and scraggly all over.

He winced at himself.

It wasn’t like standing next to the person he was meant to get ready to go see would help at all. Scout didn’t have to deal with having weird elbows.  God, Scout was gorgeous. Not in some boring sort of standard way, no, he just looked downright lovely. Built like the embodiment of speed, moved like he knew where he was going, like efficiency. Soft angles in the face that made him seem so friendly, so personable, and his hair always looked right no matter how many times he pulled his hat off to drag a hand through it, and he smiled with his eyes, with his whole body, and he seemed to stretch and bend just right to always make it so obvious what was going on in his head. He was built like artwork.

And then Sniper was just...

He considered cancelling and saying he was sick—hell, he considered shooting himself in the foot with his rifle to get a trip to the infirmary—but he knew Scout was looking forward to this, and he shouldn’t let his ridiculousness ruin Scout’s night.

It was cold enough as it got later at night to justify the scarf pulled up snug to nearly cover the bottom part of his face, and he didn’t ever go anywhere without his hat and glasses even if he didn’t usually pull the hat down so far, and that combined with a baggy coat were enough to hide him sufficiently. He could at least go out like this, he was sure. And he felt guilty, momentarily, that once again all the nicer civilian-type clothes that Scout had gone to the trouble of going out and helping him pick would go unworn, but maybe on one of his less... nervous days, he would have the courage.

And he was hoping and praying the entire walk over to base that it would be left at that, absolutely sure that any attention would be bad attention. But as he tended to do—hell, as he always did—Scout found a way to surprise him.

“Jesus, you alive under there?” Scout laughed, looking up from where he was leaned against the wall by the garage. “Were we supposed to be goin’ undercover or somethin’? Because if we are, I better change.”

Loud, would be one word to describe Scout’s shirt. The patterns were bright and eccentric, eye-catching and vibrant, especially against the otherwise normal jeans and worn-to-hell sneakers he had on. And his hair had clearly been smoothed back a bit, but that cowlick at the front still hung down over his forehead and bounced with the way his shoulders shook under continued laughter.  Comfort and nervousness all in one. Ease and uncertainty. He settled for a vague shrug. “Might get chilly,” he mumbled.

“Jesus, again with the saying it’s cold,” Scout laughed, rolling his eyes. “You wouldn’t last a week in Boston, babe, seriously.”

He was in the middle of deciding whether he more wanted to address the fact that he could handle cold just fine, thank you very much, or the fact that Scout had just called him babe, when Scout had suddenly moved forward into his space, performing three gestures one after another—first flicking up the front of his hat, then snagging off his glasses, then tugging down the scarf that was over the bottom part of his face—and before he could do much of anything about it, Scout had tipped up onto his toes to kiss him once, soundly, at the corner of his mouth.

When he pulled back, his grin was lopsided and pleased. “There he is,” he said, “there’s my handsome guy.”

His sputter of laughter was as incredulous as it was involuntary. “Handsome?” he repeated, doubtful.

“Damn right,” Scout agreed, and kissed him on the other side of the mouth for symmetry, and he had to smooth out the way it pulled his face into a smile, cringing internally at how it surely made all the lines on his face that much more obvious. “Wicked handsome.”

“Right, mate,” he scoffed, glancing off to one side, face feeling hot.

“C’mon, seriously,” Scout said, as if Sniper was the one who was being ridiculous. “Have you seen you? You’re, like, rugged Rock Hudson. Like, uh—fuck, who’s that one guy? From Casablanca?”

“Er... that bloke, Henreid, is it?”

“Nah, nah, uh...” He snapped his fingers a few times. “Uh, somethin’ with a ‘B’... Bogart, Humphrey Bogart! Plays the main guy, ‘Here’s lookin’ at you, kid’, that guy. You’re taller, though. And I like your hair way better.”

“You can’t be serious,” Sniper muttered, tugging on his hat, but Scout just ticked it right back up again, looped an arm up over his shoulders to pull him down into a short kiss, then a long one. He felt half-dizzy by the time Scout pulled back away, flashing that lopsided grin again.

“Dead serious,” he said, smiling with his eyes, and he scoffed again at it, at himself, at all of this.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said firmly.

“You’re handsome,” Scout said again, just as firmly.

“Well, one of us is wrong,” Sniper said.

“And it’s not me,” Scout said, and kissed him once more before he could reply, and pulled back again, pushed his glasses back up onto his face crookedly. “Alright, c’mon. Tacos.”

Stood in line later, Sniper dragged a hand down over his face, thinking.

Rugged Rock Hudson, huh?

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #sniperscout #speeding bullet #que?#shut up me #my fanfiction #we love a supportive boyfriend

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bangtae-sohotddaeng · 4 years ago

Text

we’ll be counting stars | k.th. | 4

(^ gif cred: ON THE VOYAGE | pinterest)

pairing: idol!Taehyung x publisher!Reader

rating: nc-17 (for language and themes)

summary: You’d sworn off love and relationships forever. You were here to do your job - work with the biggest boyband of the world. Not forge friendships and...and whatever it was that you and Taehyung were building up with these sneaky glances. It was, to be very fair, your Chief Editor’s fault that you’d landed in this mess. Maybe you should quit your job? Maybe you should quit life -

Oh, he was staring again, and did he freaking lick his lips?

warnings: swearing (reader’s got a potty mouth) + this is set like 5 years in the future + reader has emotional issues, she's a relationship phobe + mentions of weed

genre: so much ANGST ugh + fluff + comedy + some crack

words: 4.6 k

note: hey, y'all. i know i've been awol and i'm really sorry about it, but, well - first i went back to uni for a while and got busy with my classes and my boyfriend. but this lasted for, like, barely three weeks, and then i came back home and got covid. yep, i finally got unlucky. my parents got it, too, after me, and the three of us had been home quarantined and getting treated for the past month or so. we're in better health now, though, so i'm getting back into writing. here's hoping i pick up speed super quick! 💜

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series masterlist

gimme feedback, much much appreciated!

Your first week of heading this project with all its roadblocks and exhaustion, as it turned out, had merely been a taste of what was to come.

Your Wednesday at work began on a positive note, though.

Towards the middle of the day, your phone rang, making both you and Jungkook jump.

Cursing, you pursed your lips at Jungkook apologetically, and fished the device out. He nodded at you with a chuckle.

Looking at your phone screen, you realised this was a call you'd been waiting for.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m calling to inform you that we’re done.”

Your eyebrows immediately hiked up your forehead. “Wow, really? That’s great news!”

“Yeah, the cleaners will be in tomorrow morning. You can move in by tomorrow evening.”

You actually grinned. “That’s such fantastic news! Thank you so much, Mister Lin. I’ll initiate your payment later, today.”

“Anytime, ma’am. Thank you.”

You disconnected the call with a happy sigh. Jungkook squinted at you. “That sounded like a fun conversation.”

You nodded, smiling. “Our team is moving into an apartment, tomorrow.”

“Wow! You’ve been in the hotel for what, ten days now? Must feel nice!” Jungkook’s eyes sparkled.

You nodded with a sigh, shutting your eyes in relief. “Oh, yes. We’d made reservations at the hotel for fifteen days. We had to move into the apartments within this week. This feels so amazing. I’ll finally be able to prepare my own food.”

Jungkook giggled at that, scrunching his nose up. “Where’s the apartment? Hope it isn't too far.”

“Oh, no, it’s a few blocks away from here. Which is why we had to book a hotel in the first place. We needed two four-bedroom apartments on the same floor, in this specific radius, in three days.” You paused to laugh when Jungkook’s jaw dropped with a gasp. “It was a very hard find. But our agent was sharp, he did a great job.” You clapped your hands together. “I cannot wait to check out of the damn hotel.”

Jungkook nodded in understanding. “Hotels are hard. It could be a seven star luxurious penthouse, but you’d still wanna run away from it after a while.”

He seemed to be speaking from his personal experience, but running away from a seven star luxurious penthouse? You couldn’t relate. You hated your hotel because the curtains weren’t dark enough and the mattress was stiff and you couldn’t afford getting any of them changed. You also hated having to order Chinese every single day, but you also knew you’d be emptying your bank account if you got anything else.

None of this would trouble someone living in a seven star’s penthouse. But you didn’t want to make Jungkook uncomfortable by stating any of this when he was just trying to be a bit compassionate and empathetic.

“Food doesn’t bother me that much, though,” Jungkook continued after a thoughtful pause. “We’re usually either on diets or order takeout. I personally hate the mattresses.”

“Oh yes,” you sighed deeply, the kink in your upper back in absolute agreement. “I’m not really a fan of sleeping anywhere other than my mattress back at home, but hotel beds are the worst of it.”

Jungkook chuckled, nodding. “I completely understand. You remember that story I told you about lugging my beddings over to our dorm when we first moved into one?”

You nodded with a laugh. “Oh, yes. The rest of the boys were getting new mattresses, and you were busy dragging your mattress from your parents’ house. It may sound hilarious, but it’s actually very relatable.”

Jungkook looked a bit bashful as he nodded. “You know, when we first started preparing for our first tour, I had a half a mind to take it with me.”

You barked out a loud laugh at that, the mental image of Jungkook dragging a seven by four piece of bedding around and stuffing it into trailers. He laughed, too.

“Yeah, it was funny and really stupid. Half the time we didn’t even get to sleep in the bed we had taken with us, but whenever we did, I was nodding off the second my head hit the pillow.” Jungkook’s eyes sparkled as he went down the memory lane. “That one was nothing in comparison to the tours we go on now, but it was our first ever experience so it was still pretty difficult adjusting, Tour schedule is a different level of hectic, you know? You don’t have time to eat, you don’t have time to sleep. Just rehearsals and fittings and sound checks. I would fall asleep in makeup chairs,” he confessed with a chuckle, shaking his head fondly, “and when noona would wake me up, I would recall how I wanted to bring my mattress here. Such naivete.”

You smiled, nodding along. You hadn’t yet gotten to the tour discussion yet, as it was planned out for the third month of your blueprint, so all of this was brand new to you. But, at this moment you didn’t want to bring up plans and blueprints. Jungkook was compassionately being candid with you. You were becoming friends, beyond your professional boundaries.

Sighing, you decided to impart something personal, too. “When I moved to the States and got into this company, I rented the apartment with an old friend who was already living there. And it wasn’t my first time living in a house away from my parents. I’d been a university student, lived in dorms then rented apartments, both solo and shared.” Jungkook looked at you pensively, nodding with a little furrow in his eyebrows. “But when I got to this apartment, got all this brilliant furniture set up, all new and fresh, I couldn’t sleep. I missed my home.” Jungkook’s eyes softened, lips pressing down into an understanding smile. “Not the dorm, not the studio I’d been renting—I missed my childhood bed.” You exhaled, recalling all your sleepless nights. “There's this connection you build with the place you call home. I’m sure you must have started to feel this way about your dorms as time went on.”

Jungkook softly smiled, nodding as he looked into space. “Very correct. Tour life made me realise this exact fact.”

You both sat in a few minutes’ quiet, basking in the nostalgic atmosphere you’d built around you.

Then Jungkook grinned at you. “Now you’ll get to experience real Seoul life.”

You laughed. “Oh, yes. And I honestly can’t wait for it. The local markets, the grocery stores, everything. Everything here is very unlike home.”

“I’m sure you’ll love it!” Jungkook exclaimed, wiggling his eyebrows smugly.

You went back to work soon after, with Jungkook tossing in questions about your move and suggestions about what all you should do in the city, every now and then.

It was a good, productive, joyous day. You were hardly even tired when you got back to your hotel to spend your last night on that stiff ass mattress.

Thursday had started off pretty much the same, except for you guys taking a slightly early departure to spare some extra time to set your new place up after your belongings were moved.

By late night, you were all settled in two, pleasant, well-furnished, well ventilated four-bedroom apartments, next to each other. Your housemates consisted of Sana and Simon. Needless to say, you weren’t a fan. But you needed a room to build the office in and you preferred it to be under the same roof as your bedroom because you tended to work odd hours when you couldn’t sleep. Simon and Sana volunteered to share the apartment with the office and you, so you didn't exactly have room for complaint.

From getting the apartment cleaned one last time to accept you all, to ensuring none of you had left anything significant behind in your hotel rooms—you didn’t trust the hotel staff enough to not misuse it if they found anything related to BTS in one of your rooms—you had been the one that took care of it all. It was kinda on you, because you didn’t trust anyone from your team to do the latter responsibly. So, quite naturally, you were dead on your feet by the time you got into your soft as a cloud beddings at nearly 3 o’clock in the morning. Sleep pulled you in the seconds you rugged your covers up.

You were very dead on your feet when you got to the BTS dorm, five hours after you’d gotten into bed. You hadn’t had a drop of alcohol in your system for more than a few weeks, now, but man did you have a hangover.

So it goes without saying that when you bumped into someone on your way to Jungkook’s studio, your eyes were half shut. You wouldn’t have thought much of it and might have slinked away with a mumbled apology, if not for the familiar voice than greeted you.

“Good morning. Looks like you had a rough night?”

You blinked, miles away from sleep within a second when your eyes met a familiar pair of brown ones. Taehyung was dressed in the routine BTS loungewear that consisted of a pastel t-shirt that was one too many sizes bigger on him and dark sweatpants that covered his feet. His hair was the usual black and curly, mostly pulled away from his forehead with a few tendrils dangling over his brows.

Your interaction with him had been meagre throughout this week, only consisting of respectful nods of greetings and waves of goodbyes. You’d meant to ask him how Simon was doing and how he felt about his ideas being taken now, after you’d had a talk with Simon about it. But you didn’t know what you would do if he said he was hating how things were and wanted you to do something about it. So you had kept your mouth shut and watched from the sidelines as you tried to gauge Taehyung’s inner feelings by his facial expressions.

He was an extremely closed off guy, never really letting his face show what he was truly feeling. But sometimes you would catch him looking into space as if he was zoning out of his conversation with Simon. Now, he could very well be thinking deeply about something Simon said—you really couldn’t be sure with the guy. But it had you worried, nevertheless.

God. Why did Simon have to pick out Taehyung’s name?

By the time you realised you’d been staring at him for too long, he had realized it too. “Anything wrong with my… hair?” he innocently questioned, threading his fingers through the front of it.

“No!” you yelped, making him flinch. “I mean, no, it’s not that. I, um. We were moving into our apartments last night and it got kinda late. My brain’s processing things a bit slow, today.”

Taehyung chuckled at that, nodding with his teeth on display. “It’s okay. Congratulations on the move. Hotels suck.”

You sighed. “Tell me about it.”

Awkward silence hung over the two of you as you looked at the floor, at your feet, at his feet, tried to discern if his pants were very dark gray or blue, cleared your throat, scratched your ear, met his shifty eyes again—

“How…how is working with Jungkook?”

His question caught you off-guard. You looked at him in surprise. “Uh…it’s, um. It’s good. Very comfortable, very productive. It’s great, actually.”

Taehyung nodded, pursing his lips as he looked down again. “Simon has been a better listener this week. Did you talk to him?”

A weight was lifted off your shoulders on hearing that. You grinned at him with all your teeth. “Really? That is really good to know. Comforting, even. I did talk to him, yes.”

Taehyung looked into your eyes as his lips spread into a slow, soft smile. “Thank you so much for doing this for me. I thought you would think I was stupid for demanding so much, but…” He shrugged his shoulder, one corner of his lips ticking farther up his cheek. “You made it work. I feel so much better now.”

You exhaled, willing your heart to not beat so fast. It was your job to ensure they were all comfortable, this was part of what you were getting paid for. But somehow, the way Taehyung seemed to have taken it so personally made you not wanna mention the fact in the moment.

Also, he didn’t know how this wouldn’t last. You’d been giving Simon tips to handle himself professionally around Taehyung, literally every single day. It kept the wheel running, but it was tiring both of you out, immensely. Simon was out of his element and you were getting slowly overwhelmed and under-rest due to the amount of responsibilities piling on for you. You were determined to talk this out with your boss, this Sunday, and find a way out before you broke.

Right now, though, you gave Taehyung a bashful smile. “I wanted you to be comfortable and feel good about working on this project, Tae. I am constantly working out plans to better it.”

Taehyung looked at you with so many emotions swimming in his eyes, that the intensity of it almost made you wanna look away. But you didn’t. Instead, you tried to decode what any of it could mean.

This time the silence between you two was not awkward in the least. It was charged—heavy with this unknown tautness between your mind and heart and this indecipherable look in Taehyung’s eyes.

“Tae?”

The trance was broken by Jin, startling both of you.

He walked into the halfway from behind Taehyung, peering around him with a frown. His eyes widened when he saw you. You immediately bowed, always extremely cautious about being respectful around BTS’ oldest member. “Good morning, Jin-ssi.”

He chuckled at your address, insisting that you didn’t have to bow every single time. “Just the respectful good morning is fine. Did you just get here?”

You nodded, subtly glancing at Taehyung whose eyes were slightly rounded and still stuck on you. Why was he acting like you two were caught by Jin? You’d just been greeting each other and catching up!

Right?

Right.

“Ah! There comes Riya!” Jin suddenly announced the arrival of his partner on your team, cutely waving at someone behind you.

Your teammate Riya walked into the hallway after you, having walked here on her own insistence. “Good morning, Jin-ssi. Taehyung-ssi. Boss.”

You smiled at her, nodding in acknowledgement of the respect she paid. “Where’s Simon?” you questioned.

“Just here!” the man himself responded, rushing in after Riya.

You met Taehyung’s eyes, and he nodded with a meaningful look and a small smile on his lips. Your heart felt light.

The unexpectedly happy and positive start you’d gotten in the morning lasted with you the whole day, making your time with Jungkook a lot fun, and fulfilling in terms of work, too.

When Sunday came in and you received your boss’ call, her first question was about how well you were settled in the apartments, followed by how you’d handled things with Simon. You had done a decent job on the former, but the latter was gradually turning out to be a pain in your ass. You told your boss as much.

“Drag it out for another week, and then design a change of gameplan. If he really isn’t doing a good enough job by himself, it’s better if he works with someone else. This whole charade will tire both of you out. And V would be facing issues, too, if Simon’s heart isn’t into it.” Your boss had looked at you solemnly through the computer screen.

“Simon’s heart’s a bit too much into it, boss, that’s the whole issue.” You had derisively chuckled at your joke, but her words had left you thinking into the late hours of the night.

Taehyung had definitely been facing issues, you’d heard it from the man himself. And the respite he thought he’d gotten this week was momentary, because neither you nor Simon could honestly keep up with it for too long. And it was very unfair to Taehyung. This book was supposed to showcase a part of all the boys. A biography was the culmination of one’s whole life—something very personal, precious and endearing. The process of its creation should have been a similar experience for the boys, too.

You really would have to assign someone else to Taehyung.

On Monday morning, you knocked at Simon’s door at seven.

“Just this week, and then you switch,” you told him.

“Really? Oh, my God, thank you so much!” Simon cried out.

“Please accommodate him the best you can.” You sighed. “I’m too tired to give you notes everyday. Will you be able to manage?”

“I’ll accommodate him the best I can, just as you said.”

You hadn’t taken his word for it, but it seemed like the knowledge of his misery ending soon had done Simon well. He did a fair job of maintaining his professional composure, and on Tuesday, when you went in to grab a cup of coffee from the kitchen, you saw the two of them laughing about something, too. Taehyung had politely greeted you, exchanging more than a nod for the first time in more than ten days—minus that one altercation in the hallway, of course—and then immediately went back into the discussion.

He seemed to be really into it.

It made you feel a lot better.

On Friday, you and Jungkook went for a walk by the pool in the late afternoon with a cup of ice cream in your hands. He brought up Taehyung, asking how the elder was doing.

“You told me he was having some trouble with his partner?” Jungook asked, biting into a huge glob of chocolate ice-cream like a maniac and braving the brainfreeze with a straight face.

You grimaced at the sight. Then exhaled, plopping a spoonful from your own ice cream into your mouth. “He’s doing a lot better, now. It might not last, though”

Jungkook, instead of quizzing your ominous statement, nodded in understanding. “Does it have something to do with what I told you about hyung’s personality?”

You sighed. “Pretty much. We might have to change his partner.”

Jungkook paused at that. “Is there a possibility that…” He trailed off, confused, doe eyes looking at you.

You couldn’t lie to him. You shrugged. “Everything’s on the plate.”

On Sunday evening, you decided to gather the team for the call with your boss. Sending them a quick message once you all got home, you hopped into the bathroom for a long, relaxing showe.

When you came back, you stepped into your office to the welcome sight of your team occupying bean bags and chairs and spread across the entire surface area of the place.

Collectively, you all brought up Taehyung’s partner with the Editor-in-Chief.

“Why don’t you do it, Y/N?” your boss questioned you after the rest of them had briefed her with their progress so far and detailed out their future plans with their assigned boys.

You sighed. “I have been doing just as great as the rest of them, boss. It wouldn’t be ideal for me to stop working with Jungkook after we’ve been making such great progress.”

Your boss took her glasses off, the highlight on her nose glistening as her movement caught light. She shook her and then sighed. “One of you is going to have to make a sacrifice.”

Simon, rightfully, flinched with a guilty face.

“So either you talk one of your team members into doing it, or you do it yourself. You’ve got one whole week to discuss it. Tell me what you decide, next Sunday.”

You kept tossing and turning in your bed. You’d either have to force one of your team members. Or you’d have to disappoint Jungkook. Your prospects really weren't looking good.

You would like to believe you and Jungkook had become friends in these three weeks. It is impossible to remain a stone-faced stranger with someone literally relaying the story of his entire life to you. And besides that, too, Jungkook was a very likeable guy. He was a curious soul with a myriad of interests. Taking notes on literally every topic would always branch out into an enthusiastic conversation between the two of you.

Sighing as you recalled how the two of you had shared your roller-skating experience with each other just today, you shut your eyes and decided to finally go to sleep.

On Monday morning, your team members were gathered in your new office to begin with the scripting process of the biography. As you got down to comparing notes and checking off boxes, each one of you resolutely ignored the gigantic elephant in the room—that fact that one of you would not be working with the same person when this week was up.

Strangely, this forcible change of partners was weighing down on all of you not just because of how much more labour it would cost, but on an emotional level, too. Which was a very unfamiliar concept, at least to you. You never got attached to clients, knowing it would only cause hindrances when you had to criticize their work—which was why they were talking to you in the first place. You had been somewhat lucky too, in a way, because it wasn't easy for you to get attached to people.

But Jungkook turned out to be just a really easy person to get along with. You really had become friends.

This, you suddenly realised, would also mean that Jungkook would make friends with another partner just as easily.

“Guys, remember—it’s not just their story that we’re writing, it’s ours too!” you announced to your team, clapping your hands to raise their spirits as the six of them worked on their computers. “They’re the narrators, sure, but we are the writers. Use your words wherever you find fit, do not hesitate to trim, omit or add. This is what we were hired to do.”

At noon, you all ordered takeout and took a break.

“We’re all really on schedule, boss,” Riya, Jin’s partner, spoke up from her spot across the room from you. Her rounded eyes narrowed suddenly, and she winced. “Well… except Simon, but we kinda already expected that.”

Simon, seated on a bean bag to your immediate right, cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“You’ve been really shitty at your job, Si,” Areum, Jimin’s partner, commented, looking at Simon through her round framed glasses, her face displaying disappointment.

“He really has,” you added. “But it cannot go on like this. You’ll have to be really professional with your partner, this time round, Simon. You’ve really done a lot of damage with Taehyung. Boss won’t just pull you off the project if something like this happens again, she’ll fire you.”

Simon visibly gulped, nodding with his wide eyes fixated on you.

“So, who’s gonna take his place?” Nathan, Yoongi’s partner, butted in, prompting Sana to stop stretching. “Have you decided yet?” he asked you.

You exhaled. “Why not ask dear Simon who he wants to work with? The last time he kept protesting about the assigned choice, and I didn't listen. Maybe he’d have done better if the selection of his partner was voluntarily done by him.”

All eyes turned to Simon. He cleared his throat, looking beyond nervous. “Please don’t put me in this spot. One of you will have to let go of a month’s worth of hard work for me, as it is.”

You looked around the room. “Any one of you willing to switch?”

Five pairs of eyes turned to look at you incredulously. “No one’s gonna willingly give their research up for you, Simon,” Charlotte, the only redhead on your team and Hoseok’s partner, spoke with a roll of her eyes. “None of us.”

“Simon,” You sighed. “Choose.”

And then Simon squeezed his eyes shut and fisted both his hands to whisper, “Jungkook…maybe?”

Of fucking course.

Later that night, you had calmed yourself down enough to tell yourself that everything was gonna be okay. You could be a darn hardass professional when you needed to be. In fact, being humble and empathetic was usually what posed a challenge to you. You would very smoothly transition into working with Taehyung, you were sure of it.

You belatedly thought about how much change these past three weeks had already brought about in your nature. You were starting to show a lot more compassion than you’d thought yourself capable of. That kind of came in this job’s description, because biographies made people vulnerable, and vulnerable interviews required compassion.

You had to unlearn some of the things you’d picked up over the span of your adult life to save yourself from hurt, and also the guilt that came with hurting others. Jungkook also helped, in a way. His openness and just the overall cheerful vibe that his nature eluded made you want to be more of a friend to him than a writing guide or an interviewer.

You wondered how Taehyung would be.

There was something undeniably intense and mysterious about him. Now, you weren’t naive enough to want to “unravel” the guy’s mysteries, but you sure were irked and curious. Maybe he was one of those kinds of artists that literally lived in their art.

Back when you didn’t work in this company with this hectic schedule and had enough spare time on your hands to write, you used to pride yourself to be one of these kinds of artists, too. You lived in your stories, kept building characters up wherever you went, whatever you did. You wondered if it was something similar with Taehyung for music.

You would find out, eventually. There was no point pondering it so much.

Sighing, you turned off your side lamp and decided to retire for the night.

Your writing week was gliding past smoothly. It was just Wednesday, and you all, ahead of the schedule, were at the verge of finishing up your writing parts.

“Are we super efficient or did we sign up for a longer duration of time than needed for this whole project?” Sana questioned, typing away on her laptop.

You snorted. “Or maybe, we didn’t design the blueprint with as much uniformity as we’re required to.”

“You don’t always have to critique everything, boss,” Charlotte, Hoseok’s partner chimed in, flipping her long mane of auburn hair off her shoulder as she shot you a look.

You glared right back at her. “Uh, actually, I do. That’s kind of my job here.”

You’d been harsher than was needed, making the whole room go quiet. Only the clicking of keyboards echoed around you all for a while.

“Where’s Simon?” Nathan, Yoongi’s partner, asked after some time.

You sighed. “In his room, finishing up his writing work there. He doesn’t feel comfortable sitting between all of us because, and I quote, y’all give off really judgy vibes that fuck with my concentration.”

“That might actually be true,” Areum, Jimin’s partner, mumbled in Korean under her breath.

“Did you mail Manager Woo about the switch yet, boss?” Nathan asked you as you got up to get a refill of your coffee.

You exhaled. “Nope, I'm stalling,” you confidently confessed, leaving the office to make a trip to the kitchen. On your way back, you knocked at Simon’s door before peeking in. “You doing okay?” you asked him flatly.

Simon gave you a nod, not moving his gaze from the laptop screen. You rolled your eyes and came back to the office.

“Should one of us do it? If it won’t look too unprofessional?” Sana asked.

You wrinkled your nose. “It would look grossly unprofessional, Sana.” You pursed your lips as you sat behind your laptop again. “Fine, I’ll do it right now.”

You took a sip from your coffee, and opened your email. This was final, now — no coming back.

You were officially gonna start working with Kim Taehyung.

gimme feedback, much much appreciated!

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Tags: @tangledsparkles @hoefortaeshands @getmemyfries

#vantaenet #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #ficswithluv #thebtstown #taehyung angst #bts angst #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #taehyung imagine #bts imagine #v angst #v fluff #v imagine #jungkook imagine #bts v #bts jungkook #*mine #f: wbcs

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btsmosphere · 4 years ago

Text

Crossfire | KTH

~summary: The night your life blew up sent you on a collision course with the campus bad boy, Kim Taehyung. Though you were well aware of his reputation, it was his doorstep you ran to when you were bleeding with nowhere to go.

~word count: 5.4k

~gang!au, mafia!au, college!au, angst, fluff, action, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers

Warnings: violence, swearing, drugs, guns, blood, injury (warnings apply to each part individually, please read them)

~a/n: Thanks everyone for the reception of part 1!! I couldn’t have asked for more! I don’t have much more to add except an apology if you are a medical professional because I am definitely not and I am sure there are mistakes so I hope you can excuse that hehe

You stared at the empty glass beside you.

Once again, you swallowed. The light from the window was the only slight indication of the time, though you still had little clue. Possibly midday, possibly later… or possibly earlier. A sigh escaped you. At least you knew it was daytime.

But that gave you no more idea of how long you would be waiting for Taehyung to come back. Presumably, he was at college, since you were pretty sure it was a Monday, but he really could be anywhere.

And you were thirsty.

So far, the pain that remained in your side had kept you in the bed since you had woken up alone, once again with daylight streaming in. Some snacks and a glass of water had been left on the stand.

Your hope of going back to sleep was pretty much non-existent since it was your thirst that had woken you up just a minute ago, and it still hadn’t been resolved. Licking your dry lips once more, you finally braced yourself and heaved your body from the mattress with a groan.

Glass in hand, you padded down the stairs, pain in your side still constant but not overwhelming. All you needed was a drink, then you could collapse again for more rest.

Your soft footsteps down the hall were the only sound in the house. Lazily, your eyes trailed along the rug that led to the kitchen doorway, and soon your bare feet met the cool tiles. As you turned left slightly to move around the island, your head lifted.

Then your heart stopped.

A man stood in the living room. Facing you.

And he was wearing all black.

Below you, your feet acted of their own accord, ungluing themselves from the floor to stumble back, but the man moved faster. Without hesitation, his hands had found your collar and your head slammed against the wall, cutting off the cry in your throat.

“Who are you?” he growled, but the pain erupting in your side as he pressed against you drowned everything out.

How did they find me?

Desperately, you blinked away the sparks in your vision, the hands getting tighter on your neck. Then you felt the glass in your hand.

Just like last time, your hand lifted, preparing to strike, but it was intercepted easily by a strong arm and pressed back against the wall above your head, glass slipping from your fingers. The man’s one remaining hand on your neck pushed as the glass shattered by your feet, but you still struggled to gasp for air, your body squirming pointlessly.

“Nice try,” he grunted, face now closer to yours as he fought your thrashing, “now what the fuck-“

Suddenly, the pressure disappeared as your knee came up, hitting him hard between the legs, leaving you both reeling. You felt so light now, shaking as you pushed at him, taking your chance to dart from his hold.

But you barely made two steps before the grip on your wrist was back. Fighting with all your might against him, you resisted as he tried to pull you back. Suddenly, you were thrown off balance as he stopped, using the force you were pulling with to topple you both to the floor with a grunt. His large frame fell on top of yours while your shoulder collided harshly with the corner of the coffee table, tipping the whole thing over with your combined weight. You cried out in pain, eyes screwing shut.

This was it. You could only fight someone off so many times.

Though the man was breathing heavily, he pinned you down effortlessly, forearm pressed over your neck. All you could do was choke and splutter, a tidal wave of pain engulfing you from the jostling to your wound and the way your attacker was constricting it, all mingling with the burning of your lungs-

A crash came from the doorway.

“Yoongi!”

Loud footsteps pounded towards you and then you were free, chest suddenly expanding with a rush of air that felt like knives down your throat. Gasping and hacking, you rolled over, hand clutching at your side automatically.

In front of you, Taehyung had his arms wrapped around the man in black, constricting him as the two struggled together.

“Hey, man, chill out!” he was yelling, “What the fuck!”

“Who the hell is-“

“Fuck- shit- stop it, what have you-“

“She was in your house!”

“I know her!”

Taehyung finally succeeded in shutting the man up, and now he was shoving him roughly behind him as he stumbled forwards and fell to his knees where you were still trying to breathe.

“Y/N?” his voice was urgent as his hands helped you sit up, eyes scanning your face and neck, then your side. You let him remove your hand where it covered the wound.

“Yoongi, what were you thinking?” Taehyung spat, not turning around as he took in the bloodied bandages.

Warily, you looked up at your attacker, Yoongi, who was now frozen behind Taehyung. He looked back at you, eyes wide.

“Dude, I just came by with those pills you wanted so bad, you didn’t tell me anyone was gonna be in your house…”

“But you don’t choke someone first and ask questions later,” Taehyung’s eyes were trained on his hand resting on the carpet, though he tilted his face half towards Yoongi, his jaw clenched tight, “she’s who those fucking pills are for.”

Tae looked back up at your face, his eyebrows pulled together, watching as you breathed deeper and slower, still coughing a bit. Other than that it was silent for a moment.

“I-I’m sorry man,” Yoongi stuttered, “do you want them then?“

“You can get some fucking water and bandages, okay? And then the pills.”

Once Yoongi had retreated, you stood on shaking legs with Taehyung’s help, depositing yourself on the sofa. Until Taehyung drew the curtains with a snap, you hadn’t even noticed they were still open.

“You shouldn’t have been up, I told you to rest,” he grumbled as he walked back over to you, stopping to right the coffee table on the way.

“I was just coming to get some water,” you said, voice a little raspy, “I’ve stayed upstairs all day.”

Sighing, he opened his mouth, but then his eyes slid to the side and he shut it again. Following his gaze, you watched Yoongi emerge from the kitchen, bandages and a first aid bag tucked under one arm and a glass of water in the other hand.

For a moment, he paused, but under Taehyung’s glare he moved, lowering his head sheepishly. He handed you the water with the air of a child forced to say sorry and shake hands, not meeting your eyes, before dumping the rest on the coffee table and slinking over to the chair by the window. In the corner of your eye as you took a gulp of water, you saw him push his hood down to reveal dyed grey hair.

Ignoring him, Taehyung grabbed a bandage and began carefully unwrapping the one already around your abdomen. Yoongi’s eyes widened. With the bandage off, you could see blood leaking from the wound, though the sticky strips Taehyung had used to close it had held up.

Pursing his lips, Tae balled up the old bandage so the clean parts were outside, and pressed it into your side. The hiss of pain you released made him falter.

“Yoongi, pills,” he tossed over his shoulder.

Yoongi, who had been keeping his eyes well averted, started and began to dig in his pockets. Eventually, he threw two bags over to Tae.

You eyed them suspiciously as Tae placed one down and fished inside the other with his fingers. The clear plastic bags were the kind you had only seen discarded in hedges or alleyways, where you would expect to see white powder clinging to the corners. These were a little bigger and only contained pills, but you were still hesitant as Tae placed one in your hand and told you to take it.

“It’s a painkiller,” he told you when you still didn’t move, “I didn’t have any strong enough here which is why I got Yoongi to bring some in.”

Biting your lip, you opened your fingers to see the seemingly harmless white pill resting there. Probably on purpose, Taehyung’s hand shifted, making you wince as the bandage dug into your wound.

Lips curling, you took a deep breath and put your palm over your mouth, tipping your head back to swallow it.

Satisfied, Tae let you take over putting pressure on the bandage, pushing his hands on his knees to stand up. Yoongi stayed hunched in his chair as Taehyung picked up some things that lay by the door, shoving them roughly into the grocery bag they must have spilled from.

“Is this why you asked us to meet, then?” a mumble came from Yoongi as soon as the shopping bag’s rustling died away.

“Yeah,” was all he got in reply as Taehyung stood up without facing him.

“Dude!” he called, springing from his chair and causing Taehyung to stop in the middle of the room. “aren’t you gonna explain?”

Yoongi threw an arm towards you, followed by a glare.

“You can wait to hear it with the others.”

As Yoongi was opening his mouth again, a phone buzzed, making the two boys pause. The buzzing didn’t stop, so Yoongi pulled his phone from his hoodie, turning himself away from Taehyung. That was when a second ringtone started up. Yoongi glanced back at Taehyung as he raised his phone to his ear, while the other boy hurriedly put down his bag and reached for his too.

Both of them wore identical faces of concentration as they listened to voices on the other line. Taehyung hung up first, still watching Yoongi who was talking in a low, serious voice to the other person, before glancing at you.

Eyes connecting with yours, he started forwards, grasping your elbow and leading you with him. He scooped up the grocery bag, then marched quickly through the kitchen, not slowing as he collected a knife, then led you to the foot of the stairs.

Yoongi appeared in the living room doorway, and again him and Taehyung shared a look.

“We have to go,” Taehyung said, voice urgent and eyes flicking between yours and the door, “take these and stay upstairs. I’ll be back later.”

And with that, he thrust both the bag of food and the knife into your arms, waiting only for your perplexed nod before him and Yoongi walked out, door falling shut heavily behind them.

‘Later.’ What were you supposed to infer by ‘later?’

When Taehyung had said that, you certainly hadn’t imagined waiting around for him until rain started to fall and the light was fading outside the window.

Despite having no water, you had dutifully stayed upstairs ever since Taehyung and Yoongi’s abrupt departure, even though that had been the reason for you venturing downstairs in the first place. At least there was some soda among his shopping. But you had learned from your ordeal: if it happened again, you might not be lucky enough for it to be another false alarm.

Honestly, it hadn’t felt much like a false alarm, you thought as you checked your side again. Since the boys had left, you had simply sat on Taehyung’s bed, applying pressure with the wad of bandages from earlier. Now though, the pain had subsided as promised and the bleeding had stopped. It hadn’t been severe at all, but there was still some blood to clean up.

Gingerly standing up, fingers wrapping around the kitchen knife, you padded across to the door and cracked it open, peering around the darkened house cautiously. Though you weren’t going downstairs, if anyone were there you would be on full view from the landing. For a second you just listened.

Silence.

As quietly as you could, you tiptoed the short distance to the bathroom.

Once you set the knife down, you turned on the tap, doing your best to keep it down, not even turning the water up enough to drown out the rain pattering against the windows. Not wanting to get blood on more of Taehyung’s belongings, you scrubbed at it using just water and your hands.

A click came from downstairs.

Jumping, you turned towards the door. Barely daring to breathe, you shut the tap off using your elbow, given that your hands were still covered in your own diluted blood.

Pressing your ear up to the door confirmed you weren’t imagining the sound; instead, you were greeted with multiple sets of footsteps, making your blood run cold. Not caring any more about the blood, your fingers turned the lock. From your spot by the door, your eyes rested where the knife lay.

Whoever was in the house wasn’t shouting, though. The voices seemed agitated, but it was not the same as when Shinhyuk’s gang had stormed your apartment a couple of days ago. Either way, you stayed put, not wanting to risk anything.

But then someone came up the stairs.

You held your breath beside the door, stubbornly ignoring your instinct to run. If you stayed here, you would be able to hear where the intruder was headed.

The steps stopped close by and you heard the bedroom door’s soft creak.

“Y/N?”

You pressed your head closer to the door. Someone had spoken, but it was quiet, muffled by the two doors between you.

“Y/N!”

This time, it was a shout and there was no mistaking it. Taehyung.

Letting out a breath, you released the lock again and stepped out from the bathroom, coming face to face with a very panicked Taehyung dashing out of the empty bedroom. Seeing you, he stopped in his tracks.

And so did you.

His eyes widened as he heaved a sigh, shoulders relaxing.

You, on the other hand, froze, eyes growing for a different reason.

“Taehyung, what the- what happened to you?!” you finally moved towards him.

Blood was streaked down his face, covering one side from his forehead to his chin. Horrified, you brought a hand to his cheek, but hesitated at his slight flinch.

“It’s just a scratch,” he murmured, eyes fixed on your hand as you lowered it, embarrassed.

Staring at him incredulously, you searched for the source of the blood and found a gash on his forehead. Admittedly, it didn’t look huge or life-threatening, but you grabbed Taehyung by the hand anyway and dragged him to the bathroom.

Below you, the other voices continued, but between you and Taehyung it was silent as you stopped in front of the sink.

“Um… can I use one of your towels please?”

Given the amount of blood on Tae’s face, you weren’t sure if you would be able to clean him up without one.

“Of course,” he nodded, frowning at the blood on your hands, “you can use whatever you need, you know that, right?”

“Thanks,” you chuckled nervously as you picked up a towel and turned on the water, “I’ve already had some soda from your groceries, so that’s a relief.”

“Just soda?” he asked.

Distractedly, you nodded, though you were now focussing on wiping his face. He watched you as you held his head steady with one hand, the other gentle as possible while you scrubbed away the sticky substance.

“Um, the boys are here,” he waved his hand at the door behind him, “and we still need to eat, so… would you like to join us?”

Although you had only cleaned about half, you paused your efforts to stare at him.

“The boys? Do you mean…”

“Uh, yeah,” he scratched the back of his head, “I mean, Jungkook isn’t here yet but I could introduce you…”

“Sure,” was the only response you could muster, ducking your head as your rinsed the towel in your hands.

“Hey, I know it might be weird,” Taehyung spoke, “and, well, it’s already weird, but we have some things to talk about that you might wanna hear.”

As you approached the cut on his head, you slowed your hand, chewing your lip in concentration and only affording him an absent nod. Another moment of silence passed as you carefully pushed aside his damp hair and cleaned his forehead around the cut.

Taehyung’s eyes didn’t leave your face as you finished up, even as you lowered the bloodied towel and stepped back. Slowly, your eyes traced down his face from his wound to meet his gaze. In your hand, your fingers twisted the fabric of the towel, but you didn’t look away.

“Thanks,” Taehyung’s voice barely touched the silence.

A yelp from below you did, however.

Dipping his head, Taehyung grabbed the towel from your hand and rubbed it vigorously over his hair before turning to chuck it in the bathtub.

“Jin can patch this up downstairs,” he waved a hand towards his forehead as he opened the door.

Following him out and through the house, the voices downstairs grew clearer. Peering in through the living room door, you spotted Yoongi curled into the same chair he was in earlier. Just as his eyes snapped up to meet yours, you saw another figure move around the coffee table, but Taehyung led you down the corridor to the kitchen before you could make out more than a silhouette.

The smell of takeout drifting from the end of the hall barely made you relax. Rubbing your palms over the borrowed clothes you had on, you had no more time to panic before you were through the door. Sure enough, the kitchen island was packed with takeaway containers, as yet unopened.

“Taehyung-ah,” the approaching voice at least belonged to someone you could identify, Jung Hoseok, who was walking to the sink, “these were lying around.”

He gestured to something on the counter as he stuck his hands under a stream of water, but your eyes never followed his gesture. By now, you would have thought the sight of bloodstained hands would become normal for you. Apparently not.

Swallowing, you averted your eyes. And then regretted it.

Two guns sat on another part of the counter. You had never actually laid eyes on one before, and you couldn’t help but stare.

Then something was in front of your face, being shaken. Blinking, you found Taehyung holding out a bag, red pills jostling inside.

“Take one, I forgot to ask you earlier,” he passed them over, “they’re for anaemia. You lost a lot of blood the other day.”

Figuring that the last pill he offered you had worked, you didn’t bother debating, taking the bag off him and swallowing one as you rounded the corner after him. The splash of the tap continued behind you as you took in the four bedraggled boys in the living room.

Yoongi was there as before, but three others were on the sofa: Jimin you recognised in the middle from his orange hair, though he wasn’t facing you. Instead he leaned towards the man on his left, who was bent over, blocking your view of his face. The man nearest you had his hand resting on Jimin’s back, watching with a grave expression.

Another yelp escaped Jimin.

Peering around Taehyung, your eyes widened. At his thigh Jimin’s trousers were torn and darkened, wet not just with rain. The man tending to him reached out a hand to the coffee table, strewn with bandages, gauzes and pills, but as he glanced around his eyes finally rested on you.

There they lingered, his hand static, still hovering in mid-air.

Uncomfortable, you stared back at the wide eyes underneath his dark brows, ignoring his dripping hair and watched as his mouth opened, eyes sliding to Taehyung in front of you.

“How is he?” Taehyung ignored the tension completely, instead nodding to Jimin.

“F-fine. He’ll live,” the man stuttered, head swivelling back to his patient.

“Good,” Taehyung nodded. By this time all eyes were on him. Or you.

“Y/N, this is Jin, Jimin, Namjoon and Hoseok,” Taehyung nodded to each man in turn, starting from Jin nearest the window back to Hoseok coming through from the kitchen, “you already know Yoongi. Food?”

Namjoon stood from his spot, nodding succinctly at you before heading to collect the meals. Taehyung swept his arm to the vacated seat, urging you to sit down.

Before long, all the boys bar Taehyung were seated and cradling food containers, as well as you. Until now you hadn’t realised how hungry you were, but with all eyes on you, you found you couldn’t start. Beside you, Taehyung was leaning against the arm of the sofa. His hands fidgeted together as he cleared his throat.

“This is Y/N,” he said, “and she’s why I wanted to meet up… I don’t want to mention this on our phones since there’s always a security risk, but she came here on Saturday night because Shinhyuk raided her place. We’re pretty sure her dad was working for him, but she escaped and they might be looking for her.”

Working for him.

It sure sounded real now, but you were adjusting to that. Chancing a look up from the food in your lap showed you that you were still the subject of everyone’s attention. Across from you, Namjoon was the first to move, shifting his gaze to Tae.

“How long is she staying?”

Taehyung glanced at you, his brow furrowed.

“As long as she needs to… Shinhyuk won’t just give up.”

“And you think they won’t find her here?”

“If they look for her, they’ll check her friends’ places, not here. We don’t know each other that well,” Namjoon opened his mouth again, but Taehyung pressed on, “I’m still going to college, no one will notice anything to make them suspicious.”

“I’m just saying, he knows who we are,” Namjoon gestured around the room, “so…”

“Where else would you suggest?” Taehyung bit back, eliciting a sigh from the blond who raked his hand through his still damp hair, slicking it back. The others, though still listening, had begun quietly to eat.

After a beat, Taehyung angled his body towards you.

“Today, Shinhyuk attacked one of our deals…” a quick glance at the rest of the boys, “we associate with people he wants to push out of the city, but he’s never attacked so far inside our territory before.”

You blinked.

“Why are you telling her this?” Yoongi had straightened in his chair, leaning forward with a glare.

“This happened just after her place got raided. Shinhyuk’s trying to make a point.”

“What does she have to do with what happened today?”

“Yoongi,” the stern voice belonged to Jin, who leaned forward, placing his food down on the table. Then he glanced at Namjoon, “I think Shinhyuk is stepping things up. Tonight felt like something… serious.”

Namjoon slumped back in his seat.

“It was a declaration of war.”

Even you felt the gravity of his statement.

“I don’t get what gave him the confidence,” Jimin piped up beside you, “like, we thought it was coming, but never this soon.”

Keeping your eyes down, you slowly took a mouthful of food. You frowned down at your takeaway container. This was a lot to take in, and the infamous Shinhyuk was beginning to scare you more and more. As much as you tried, your thoughts wouldn’t stop drifting to how your dad was right now, especially if he was with Shinhyuk.

If he was still alive.

The food in your mouth turned to cardboard, and you swallowed hurriedly, abandoning the container beside Jin’s.

Around you, their conversation carried on.

“I was right on top of him when we chased them off,” you only payed half a mind to Hoseok’s frustration, “and then he just… disappeared.”

“Maybe Jungkook will find out where he went…”

The carpet you stared at was out of focus, the words swimming through your mind. A sudden attack, an effortless escape, a war…

A cold droplet hit your cheekbone, your eye twitching in reflex. Startled from your stupor, your head jerked around to find Tae’s dark eyes trained on you, despite the conversation happening around you two.

Just as he reached up to push back the offending dripping hair, a knock sounded through the drumming of raindrops.

Taehyung’s eyes darted away for the briefest of moments, freeing you to turn your body towards the sound. Jin was already leaving the room.

Yoongi had got to his feet, and now a force pulled at your shoulder, lifting you from the couch and launching you into the momentary blur of headrush. As the spots danced away, you felt your back pressed against Taehyung, who too was standing, hand gripping your shoulder.

So were Hoseok and Namjoon.

Who were they expecting?

Only one name came to mind. The disappearing gang lord, come to disappear with you. Holding your breath, you saw yourself fighting again, losing, and where would he take you then?

“It’s just Jungkook,” Jin’s voice called from the door.

Taehyung’s hand released its pressure as the latch clunked open in the hall.

Then it hit you.

“Tae, what if…” you turned, looking up at him as Jungkook’s footsteps entered behind you, “what if Shinhyuk’s using my place? I mean, I don’t know what ‘territory’ it would be in, but…”

Still just inches from you, Tae tilted his head, mouth falling slack in realisation.

“Who’s this?”

The new voice startled you both, and Tae hurriedly took a step back and hauled a smile onto his face for Jungkook. Turning just as fast, you came face to face with another dark haired man, dressed in black with his matching hair dripping onto his shoulders and the carpet. Quickly, you flashed a smile and bobbed your head at him.

Then you saw it.

“Y/N, this is Jungkook,” Tae sauntered to his side, clapping him on the shoulder in spite of its wetness, and turning to grin at you.

But you were frozen.

Jungkook wore a loose t shirt which hung off him, and most importantly, off his collarbone, revealing to all the world a symbol inked there. A star-like symbol. One you remembered very well.

“Y/N?”

You dragged your eyes from Jungkook’s tattoo, finding both him and Taehyung looking back at you expectantly, Tae’s arm still draped around the younger boy’s shoulders.

“Sorry…” you breathed.

“Come on, the boy needs to eat!” the exclamation came from Jin, who ruffled Jungkook’s hair as he walked past to the kitchen, sending drops of water flying out and causing Taehyung to duck, laughing while cursing after Jin.

Grinning, Jungkook walked past you to lean on the counter and chat with Jin. You inhaled as he was close to you, shoulders tensing.

“What is it?” you gasped at Taehyung’s voice at your ear.

Though you angled your body back towards him, you couldn’t quite take your eyes off Jungkook, as if he was a spider you were trying to walk around in the shower. You took a second to scan the room, finding the others were back to sitting and eating.

“That… that tattoo…” you whispered, making Taehyung lean down to hear you, “that’s the same one the man in my house had…”

“Shit,” your full attention returned to Tae then; was Jungkook really a threat? “I definitely should have warned you.”

Wait.

“Warned me?”

“Yeah, he, uh,” Taehyung’s hand scratched his head above his ear, glancing over your shoulder at the subject of your conversation, “he’s our double agent. Tips our associates off about big shipments and that kind of stuff since he’s managed to get amongst Shinhyuk’s lot. Gets us money, territory and pisses the dickhead off when he loses his deals.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. Inside your chest, your heart slowed and you sat down with a breath out.

“So,” Namjoon spoke up. Jungkook’s smile stayed on his face as he left Jin to take his place on the sofa, already shoving food in his mouth.

Namjoon said no more, making the boy pause.

“…so?” he said thickly, already preparing for the next bite before he had finished the first.

“How did tonight happen?”

“Ah,” Jungkook tipped his head and lowered his food, swallowing hard, “he has a new place.”

Both you and Taehyung were instantly on alert from this statement.

“That wouldn’t happen to be at Central Hill apartment building, would it?” Taehyung said.

“How do you know?” Jungkook frowned.

“Floor fourteen, number 5?”

Jungkook nodded, “Why?”

“That’s my place,” you spoke quietly, but in the silence of the room you were heard loud and clear. You bit your lip against the unexpected sting in your eyes.

A hand that must be Taehyung’s landed softly on your back.

Across the room, Namjoon cleared his throat and you were glad for him becoming the magnet for the boys’ eyes again.

“That’s way inside our patch, no wonder he disappeared so easily. At least we know about it for next time, but-“

“Wait, listen Namjoon-hyung,” Jungkook interrupted, “I don’t think we can do anything about this…”

“What do you-?” Namjoon stared at him in disbelief, “he’s getting out of hand, we need any advantage we can get.”

“But I’m worried about my cover being blown. Don’t you think I would have told you if I knew he was going to attack so suddenly? He didn’t tell me. He might be questioning whether he can trust me, so I’m gonna have to lay low for a bit. If it becomes clear you guys know where his new base is, it’s gonna be obvious he’s got a leak.”

All eyes rested on Namjoon, who was digesting the information with his tongue stuck into his cheek.

“Fine. If that’s best for the long run.”

You were sure you had whiplash from how fast the bangtan boys could dissolve from serious discussion about their frankly terrifying business into raucous laughter and casual jokes. It was still dark outside when you found yourself surrounded by empty food tubs and exhausted men, squashed up on the couch between Jimin and Taehyung with a faint smile at the corners of your mouth.

Beside you, Taehyung’s low laughter seemed to rumble through you due to your proximity.

This was strange.

The strangest thing about it, however, was how… not strange it felt. Anyone that had heard of the bangtan boys, yourself included, would have assumed a night with them would entail illegal substances at the very least or perhaps some fighting, but the only reminder of their reputation was the bloodstain on Jimin’s trousers and the guns that were out of sight in the kitchen.

Although you had barely said a word, being the outsider, they had made you smile.

You had learned that Hoseok had infectious laugher and was training as a dancer. Jungkook loved animal crossing and Namjoon was clumsy as hell, but loved reading. Jin could bake, Jimin had a ridiculously sweet personality and even Yoongi had shown to have a sense of humour.

The fun-loving Taehyung he was around these boys, though, was the one you knew first. In fact, it was stranger for you to see him so serious earlier on, despite the fact you couldn’t exactly have claimed to know him well from your previous encounters.

Eventually, they began to trickle out.

When Jimin finally stood up, relieving the pressure from your left-hand side, Jin and Hoseok went with him – Hoseok to drive and Jin with medical instructions – only two were left in the room.

“Well, I should go home too,” Jungkook stood from the sofa as you shifted yourself into Jimin’s vacated spot to give Taehyung more space, “it was, er, good to meet you Y/N.”

You smiled in response.

“Wait, Kookie,” Taehyung stood too, pulling Jungkook aside as the voices faded and left the hallway, “could you do one thing? It won’t blow your cover or anything, just…”

Hesitant though he looked, Jungkook gave a slow nod.

“Y/N? What’s your father’s name?”

“Y/d/N,” you told him, startled, “Y/d/N Y/L/N.”

Taehyung had been watching you, but now turned back.

“Can you find him, Jungkook? So Y/N can know how he’s doing?”

“Sure,” Jungkook agreed quickly when he heard Taehyung’s idea.

Hope that had been dying bloomed again inside you as Jungkook bid you both goodnight again, this time leaving afterwards. Everything may have fallen apart, but that didn’t mean nothing was left.

Stretching an arm out, other hand massaging his shoulder, Taehyung returned his attention to you with a smile.

“You alright?”

Nodding at him, you returned the expression.

“Thank you, Taehyung.”

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