#between like 3 of you you managed to spread it to people at all points of taylor swift love/hate spectrum within the space of like 30 mins | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rosemariiaa · 19 days ago

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~Off the Rails ( And into my head)~

𐙚- pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚- w/c: 5.6k

𐙚- rosie’s note: suprise + happy gameday! i was def supposed to be working on my stalker fic buttt this was too cute not to play around with, if u guys enjoy this one i’m happy to write another part <3, happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚- themes: au, fluff, gay being gays

Azzi is pretty sure the city is trying to kill her.

Okay, maybe that’s a little dramatic, but between dodging aggressive taxi drivers, the sensory overload of Times Square, and her hotel room’s heating system making threatening noises at three in the morning, she’s convinced New York is testing her.

Which is fine. She likes a challenge (sometimes).

Her days are structured enough that she doesn’t have too much time to dwell on it. Wake up, drink expensive hotel coffee that tastes like disappointment, go to fittings, castings, brand meetings — smile, nod, pretend she isn’t internally cringing at people aggressively poking at the clothes on her body. It’s exhausting but manageable.

The castings are the worst part.

The first one seemed easy enough — a sleek downtown studio, all glass windows and marble floors. She felt okay at first, just another model in a sea of long legs and sharp cheekbones. But when it was her turn, the woman in charge — someone with wire-rimmed glasses and a voice like nails on glass — squinted at her like she wasn’t quite sure why Azzi was there at all.

“Smile,” the woman had said, and Azzi did.

“No,” she snapped, “not like that. Softer.”

Azzi tried again.

“No, softer. Relax your face.”

Azzi wasn’t sure how to relax her face when she suddenly felt like her whole body was being dissected under a microscope.

By the end, she walked out feeling like a mannequin someone had forgotten to put away properly.

“Don’t take it personally,” her agent had said over the phone. “They just want to see how you handle pressure.”

Right, Azzi thought bitterly, because nothing screams ‘grace under pressure’ like being told you’re smiling wrong.

She hated that it got to her — that her ex’s voice kept creeping into her head after things like that.

You’re too uptight, he’d say. You need to stop caring so much about what people think.

Like he wasn’t the one constantly picking at everything she did. Like he wasn’t the one who could ruin her whole day with a single passive-aggressive text.

She knew he was out of her life now — had been for months — but sometimes it still felt like she was waiting for the next thing to go wrong. Like if she let her guard down for too long, something bad was bound to happen.

Honestly, at this point, she wouldn’t mind if a woman chased her for a year or two.

Azzi immediately freezes at the thought.

Jesus Christ, you sound insane. Get it together.

(But also…she’s not wrong. It’s true.)

The only part of her routine that feels normal is the train.

For some reason, she’s taken to riding it instead of calling for a car like most models do. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t like feeling babied, or maybe it’s because she just enjoys the quiet anonymity of it. No cameras, no managers, no overly chatty PR people. Just her, her music, and a bunch of exhausted New Yorkers trying to get from point A to point B.

And then there’s her.

Tall. Athletic. Platinum blonde, but not in a fake way — it looks like it actually belongs to her, like she was born to be blindingly golden.

The first time Azzi sees her, she doesn’t think much of it. Just another stranger on the train, another person she’ll never see again.

The second time? Okay, weird coincidence.

The third?

Alright, what the hell is going on.

Azzi doesn’t mean to stare, but she’s a model — her job is literally to pay attention to details, to notice symmetry and proportion, and — oh god, is she actually justifying this to herself right now?

Still, she keeps catching herself analyzing the girl before she can stop it. The slight shift in her posture, the way she spreads her legs a little too wide like she’s claiming space (gay?), the loose sweatshirt hanging off her broad frame like she just threw it on without thinking.

And her face.

Azzi thought she was intimidating at first. The sharp jawline, the piercing blue eyes — classic I could beat you in a fight energy. But then she looked closer.

She wasn’t intimidating at all. If anything, she looked like an adorable golden retriever who was trying very hard to pretend she wasn’t.

The kind of girl who could probably bench press Azzi without breaking a sweat, but would also apologize profusely if she accidentally bumped into someone.

So, yeah. Weirdly interesting.

But Azzi isn’t a weirdo. She’s not about to obsess over some random subway stranger just because she happens to exist in her general vicinity every morning.

…Except the next day, she catches herself checking the train doors, waiting to see if she’ll walk in.

And she does.

Of course she does.

Azzi tells herself she’s just being observant. That’s all.

And then the blonde glances up, makes direct eye contact, and —

Smirks.

Not in a mean way. Not even in a particularly cocky way. Just this tiny, amused flicker of a smile. Like she knows something Azzi doesn’t.

Azzi immediately looks away. Get it together, Azzi, what is wrong with you.

The train stops. She doesn’t think — just moves, bolting out of her seat like she suddenly has somewhere incredibly important to be.

She does not look back.

Definitely not.

…Okay, maybe just a little.

—

Azzi tells herself she’s not thinking about her.

She’s not.

She’s thinking about work — about that weirdly aggressive casting director who kept telling her to “soften” her face, like Azzi’s somehow been walking around looking like an axe murderer this whole time.

She’s thinking about her schedule — her agent’s endless texts about last-minute fittings and branding meetings that always seem to run twenty minutes longer than anyone expects.

She’s thinking about dinner — the overpriced sushi place she keeps passing by but can’t quite convince herself to go into because eating alone at a fancy bar feels way too much like one of those sad girl in a movie moments.

She’s definitely not thinking about the blonde girl.

Except she kind of is.

Not on purpose! It’s just — her brain keeps circling back to her like a song stuck on repeat. Like a stray thread that Azzi can’t quite stop tugging at.

It’s just because she keeps showing up on the train, Azzi tells herself. That’s all.

New York’s massive, but the subway isn’t. People stick to patterns, routes, habits — it’s not that weird to see the same face a few times.

(But why is it always her face?)

It’s annoying, honestly — how the thought of her keeps creeping in when Azzi’s trying to focus.

Like this morning.

Azzi had been walking down 5th Avenue, mentally rehearsing her introduction for a big casting — something charming but casual — when she caught herself thinking, I bet the blonde girl’s never nervous before big things. I bet she just shows up and — boom — owns the whole room.

Or last night, when Azzi had tried watching a movie in her hotel room, only to completely zone out halfway through because she was too busy replaying that stupid smirk in her head.

What was that even about?

And God, it’s embarrassing — how her brain won’t let it go. She’s barely said two words to her! She doesn’t even know her name!

She’s just interesting, Azzi tells herself. That’s all.

And it’s true. She’s interesting the way a puzzle is — a bunch of pieces that shouldn’t really fit together, but somehow do.

Azzi hates that she notices things like that. Hates that she keeps wondering what her voice sounds like — if it’s sharp and dry like her smirk or if she’s secretly one of those people who laughs too loud without meaning to.

It’s just curiosity, Azzi thinks. Just passing time. It’s not a crush.

…Right?

—

Azzi’s morning is already off to a chaotic start.

She overslept (her phone alarm somehow managed to betray her), her hotel room’s shower took forever to heat up, and her only clean outfit is one of those weirdly fancy streetwear fits that somehow manages to look like she’s either trying way too hard or not trying at all.

So when she stumbles onto the train — hair still damp, blazer oversized enough to swallow her shoulders — she’s not exactly feeling her best.

And, of course, that’s the day the blonde girl’s already there.

Sitting in her usual spot, legs stretched out way too wide, one arm casually draped over the back of the seat like she’s been living on this train her whole life.

Azzi thinks about walking to the next car — just avoiding the whole situation altogether — but the doors are closing, and she’s already been spotted.

Too late now.

She sits across from her, tries to act normal. Looks down at her phone, pulls up Instagram like she’s definitely not thinking about the blonde girl sitting four feet away.

Except the blonde clears her throat, and Azzi glances up before she can stop herself.

“You again,” the blonde says, voice low and a little scratchy. Her mouth curls up in that familiar half-smirk. “‘M starting to think you’re following me.”

Azzi snorts — way louder than she means to — and immediately wants to disappear.

“Oh yeah,” she deadpans, “I moved to New York just to ride this train and stare at you like a creep.”

The blonde’s smile spreads wider. “Hey, you said it. Not me.”

Azzi rolls her eyes but can’t help the laugh that slips out. It’s too early for this. Too early for that smile and the way her blue eyes practically sparkle when she’s teasing.

The train jerks to a stop, and a new wave of people crowds in. One of them shuffles too close, nearly stepping on Azzi’s foot. She shifts, tucking her legs in a little.

“Here.”

Azzi looks up just in time to see the blonde motioning to the empty seat beside her — like it’s no big deal, like it’s just common sense.

“Oh,” Azzi says, too startled to play it cool. “Uh… thanks.”

She squeezes into the seat, awkwardly aware of how close their shoulders are now. The blonde smells like something fresh — clean laundry, maybe, with a hint of expensive cologne (Valentino?). It’s stupidly attractive.

Azzi stares straight ahead, willing her brain to stop overthinking.

“You always this quiet?” the blonde asks.

“Depends,” Azzi mutters. “You always this talkative to strangers?”

The blonde barks out a laugh — short and rough, like she wasn’t expecting it.

“Woww,” she drags out, still grinning. “Alright, cool. So we’re throwing insults now?”

Azzi shrugs. “Just calling it like I see it.”

The blonde hums, like she’s deciding whether or not to be offended. Then —

“Book club,” she says suddenly.

Azzi blinks. “…What?”

The blonde nods to the book tucked under Azzi’s arm — The Housemaid by Freida McFadden. “Didn’t take you for the book club type.”

“It’s actually just me, Azzi to be exact,” Azzi corrects, a little dry. “No club.”

The blonde’s head tilts like she’s intrigued. “Hmm. Pretty name.”

Azzi doesn’t register it right away — not until the blonde’s eyes flicker away like she hadn’t just casually called her pretty (well her name..but still!).

“Oh,” Azzi stammers. “Uh… thanks?”

The train starts to slow, and the blonde stands, tugging her bag over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow, pretty girl.”

Okay, now she called her pretty. Azzi freezes. Doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, just sits there like an idiot while the blonde steps off the train and disappears behind the closing doors.

Pretty girl.

See you tomorrow, pretty girl.

Azzi’s face burns all the way back to her hotel.

Later that day, Azzi’s sprawled on her hotel bed, pillow half-smothering her face.

“This is stupid,” she mutters into the fabric. “I’m being stupid.”

Because — what is she even doing?

She’s barely spoken to this girl, first “conversation” and yet here she is — half-convinced she’s developing some kind of pathetic subway crush. It’s not like her — she’s never been one of those people who fixates on strangers like they’re characters in a rom-com.

But there’s something about her.

The way she carries herself — so casual, so comfortable in her own skin. The way she always looks so put-together, like her hair’s been freshly done and her sweatshirt just happens to fall perfectly over her frame.

And okay, fine — the way she called her pretty girl.

Azzi groans into the pillow.

You’re not in high school, you freak, she tells herself. Get it together.

But later, when she’s brushing her teeth, she catches herself mumbling, “How do you even ask someone out when you’ve barely had more than one conversation?”

And she doesn’t have an answer.

Azzi leans over the sink, toothbrush still hanging from her mouth, staring herself down in the mirror like her reflection might have answers.

“Okay,” she mutters around the foam, voice muffled. “Let’s think about this.”

She spits, rinses, and braces her hands on the counter.

Pros:

first: The blonde’s obviously into her. Right? You don’t just call someone pretty girl and not mean something by it.

second: She’s funny — annoyingly funny — in that teasing way that makes Azzi want to roll her eyes and smile at the same time.

third: She’s hot. Like, objectively hot. The kind of hot that makes you stupid, apparently, because Azzi can’t seem to stop thinking about her.

fourth: They take the same train. Built-in excuses to see her without seeming desperate.

fifth: She’s probably not a serial killer. (Azzi pauses — yeah, that one’s more hopeful thinking than fact. Moving on.)

Cons:

first: What if she’s not actually into her? What if pretty girl was just something she says to random strangers like it’s her thing? Some people are just effortlessly flirty like that. (God, imagine how embarrassing that would be.)

second: Even if she is interested, what if she’s straight? Straight girls are so naturally flirty. Or worse — what if she’s got a girlfriend? (Or a boyfriend? Or a situationship? Or some weird on-again-off-again ex who’s still lurking in her life?)

third: What if she’s just messing with her? Like… some kind of elaborate joke that Azzi doesn’t get because she’s new here and clearly out of her element.

fourth: What if they do go out, and it’s terrible? Awkward silences, forced small talk, maybe the blonde’s whole flirty-train-persona is just her best material and there’s nothing else underneath.

She groans and drags her hands down her face.

“This is so dumb,” she mutters to her reflection. “You’ve had, like… one conversation. Chill.”

But her brain doesn’t let it go. Because honestly?

The cons are all just hypothetical. Possible, but not certain.

The pros…

The pros feel real.

The blonde’s smile, the warmth in her voice, the way she’d leaned in just a little closer when she called Azzi pretty girl — none of that had felt fake.

And even if it’s just a harmless crush, even if this whole thing turns out to be nothing…

What if it’s not?

What if she’s funny and charming and sweet in that slightly annoying way? What if she’s someone Azzi could actually… like?

Azzi leans closer to the mirror, narrowing her eyes at herself like she’s trying to read her own mind.

“You’re being insane,” she says flatly.

And yet… she’s still thinking about it.

And tomorrow, she knows she’s going to be checking those train doors again.

—

Azzi wakes up to the faint glow of sunlight spilling through her window. For once, she doesn’t feel like her skull is being crushed by exhaustion. She reaches for her phone on the nightstand, squinting at the screen.

Two hours until the shoot.

Nice. Enough time to shower, get ready, and maybe even clean her disaster of a hotel room.

The shower’s warm and steady, and for a moment, Azzi stands there with her eyes closed, letting the heat loosen her muscles. Her thoughts wander — first to her shoot, then to her growing laundry pile, then… well, then to her.

The blonde.

Azzi doesn’t even know her name, yet here she is, fully thinking about her in the shower like some kind of weirdo. She groans and steps out, grabbing a towel and trying to push the image of that stupid smile out of her head.

She throws on a cropped long-sleeve top and matching Fenty sweats — perks of the brand deal — then tidies her room. By the time she’s packing her purse and slipping her phone inside, she’s feeling accomplished. Productive. Grounded.

And then she promptly ruins it all by walking straight into someone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Azzi blurts, instinctively reaching out like she can somehow fix it.

The other girl’s gripping her forehead, wincing. “It’s okay,” she mutters, voice strained. It takes Azzi half a second to recognize it — that voice. Her stomach flips before she even looks up.

No way. No way is this happening right now.

Sure enough, when the blonde pulls her glasses off with a grimace, there she is — same platinum hair, same sharp jawline, same frustratingly charming smile… except this time, her eyes are squinted in pain.

Azzi freezes. Why does she look even hotter with glasses? Focus, Azzi. You just hurt her. Stop being weird.

The blonde blinks a few times like she’s still adjusting to the light, then — somehow — smiles.

“Oh, book club,” she says brightly, still pressing her fingers to her forehead. “You staying here too? What a coincidence.” Her grin widens like she’s genuinely delighted by this.

Azzi’s eyebrows furrow. Coincidence? What was so exciting about that?

Then she feels her face warm — her whole body warm, actually — and quickly nods. “Uh, yeah. Sorry, again. Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” the blonde assures her, still smiling. “But…” She pauses, tilting her head. “I think you kinda owe me now.”

Azzi snorts before she can stop herself. “Yeah, right.”

The blonde’s face falls into an exaggerated pout. “Wow. Really? You’re just gonna assault me in public and not even try to cheer me up?”

“Oh my god,” Azzi laughs, shaking her head. “Fine. What do you want?”

The blonde taps her chin, like she’s seriously thinking about it.

“I don’t have all day, blondie,” Azzi warns, but she’s smiling now too.

The blonde lights up like that’s exactly what she was hoping for. “Sushi,” she announces. “I skipped breakfast and i’ve also been wanting to try that new fancy sushi bar up the street.”

Azzi sighs. “Fine. But my driver’s off today, so we might have to take the train.”

“No problem,” the blonde says easily. “You can drive my car.”

Azzi stops mid-step, turning to stare at her. “Wait… you have a car?”

“Yeah.” The blonde shrugs like it’s no big deal.

“Then why have you been taking the train?”

The blonde’s smile falters for a second, like she hadn’t expected the question. But then she shrugs again, casual as ever. “I like it.”

Weird, Azzi thinks, but she decides not to press. Instead, she just gives a skeptical look. “You seriously want a stranger to drive your car?”

“You’re not a stranger,” the blonde insists. “We’ve had — what — two conversations now?” She pauses, grinning. “Well, one and a half, I guess.”

Azzi huffs a laugh. “Yeah, sure. Real deep connection we’ve got here.”

“You did just give me a concussion,” the blonde points out. “I think you’re legally responsible for me now.”

“Oh my god.” Azzi rolls her eyes, fighting a smile.

“You know,” the blonde adds, eyes glinting. “I think you have to hold my hand while we walk, though.”

Azzi turns to her, unimpressed. “You don’t have two legs?”

“Well…” The blonde drags a hand dramatically down her face. “You did ruin my eyesight, I don’t wanna be hitting poles left and right..sooo…” She trails off, shrugging innocently.

Azzi can’t help it — she laughs again, quietly, and she hates that it makes the blonde’s smile widen like she’s just won something.

“Fine,” Azzi sighs. “Let’s go.”

She grabs the blonde’s hand, warm fingers wrapping easily around hers.

It’s supposed to be casual, practical — just an excuse to get her moving — but then the blonde’s fingers slide between hers, lacing together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Azzi swears she feels her heartbeat stutter.

She tells herself she’s imagining things — that this girl is just the type to be annoyingly comfortable with casual touch. But then she feels the blonde shift a little closer, their arms brushing as they walk.

Azzi doesn’t say anything. She’s not even sure she wants to.

And maybe she’s imagining it, but she swears she can feel the blonde’s thumb trace over her knuckles — slow, deliberate — like she’s testing the waters.

Azzi bites the inside of her cheek, fighting a smile.

Yeah… she definitely has a crush.

—

Azzi never pictured herself like this — sitting in the driver’s seat of someone else’s car, navigating unfamiliar New York streets, her hands gripping the wheel a little tighter than necessary.

She glances at the blonde in the passenger seat —wait.., she reminds herself — but then realizes… no, she’s still not actually sure of her name.

They’d had two conversations — well, one and a half as the blonde stated — and Azzi still hadn’t asked. Not that it mattered. Except now it kinda did.

It’s quiet. Not uncomfortable exactly, but still… quiet.

Azzi turns her eyes back to the road, trying to focus. This whole situation feels surreal — like some bizarre fever dream. She didn’t move to New York thinking she’d end up driving a complete stranger to a sushi bar. She came here to focus on herself — her career — to hit reset after… everything.

“You’re a pretty good driver,” the blonde says suddenly, like she’s genuinely impressed.

Azzi laughs under her breath. “I think you’re just saying that ‘cause you’re scared for your life.”

The blonde grins. “Nah. If I was scared, I’d be giving you directions like my grandma — you know, all ‘slow down, watch the curb, both hands on the wheel.’”

Azzi smiles despite herself, relaxing just a little.

“So…” the blonde draws out the word. “Why’d you move to New York?”

Azzi shrugs. “I guess it just felt like the right place for me.”

“Yeah?” The blonde leans back in her seat, stretching her legs out comfortably. “And what do you do, exactly?”

“I model,” Azzi answers. “Not full-time yet, but… working on it.”

The blonde’s eyebrows lift. “Ohhh, so you’re like one of those people who always looks good without trying?”

Azzi scoffs. “Yeah, sure. I totally woke up gorgeous this morning.”

The blonde laughs softly, then her tone shifts — still casual, but more curious. “Okay so… why’d you really move here?”

Azzi hesitates, debating how honest she wants to be. “Honestly?” she says finally. “I needed a change. And… a getaway.”

“From what?” The blonde’s head tilts. “Or who?”

Azzi exhales through her nose. “Weird ex,” she mutters.

The blonde makes a face like that’s all she needs to hear. “Understandable,” she says easily. “So… what’d your boyfriend — I mean, ex-boyfriend — do?”

Azzi’s grip tightens briefly on the steering wheel. “How do you know it was a guy?”

The blonde shrugs. “I just assumed. I mean… you don’t look gay for real.”

Azzi’s mouth falls open in mock offense. “Excuse me?”

The blonde grins like she’s been waiting for that reaction. “Whattt?”

“I take offense to that,” Azzi says, flicking her shoulder without thinking.

The blonde gasps dramatically, clutching her arm. “Oh my god — did you just hit me? I’m already injured!”

“Oh, please.” Azzi rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning now too.

“So” The blonde pauses, eyes still sparkling. “You like women?”

Azzi nods. “Yeah.” Then, narrowing her eyes playfully, “You?”

The blonde snorts like the answer’s obvious. “I thought everyone could tell.”

“Oh, they could,” Azzi quips.

The blonde lets out a laugh — loud and unrestrained — and suddenly, the tension that had been lingering between them slips right out the window. The air feels easier now, warmer somehow.

As they pull up to the sushi bar, Paige hops out first, casually rounding the car just as Azzi locks the doors. Before Azzi can even think about it, the blonde’s fingers find hers again — no warning, no hesitation. Just warm skin sliding against her palm, fingers lacing like they belong there.

Azzi glances down at their hands — Paige’s hand in hers. The blonde doesn’t say anything about it, doesn’t even look her way — just keeps walking like this is the most natural thing in the world.

Azzi doesn’t say anything either. Maybe she doesn’t want to.

Inside, the sushi bar is small and cozy — warm lighting, soft music, and the faint scent of soy sauce lingering in the air. They slide into a booth by the window, Paige stretching her legs out comfortably while Azzi flips through the menu.

“I’m just getting the spicy tuna rolls,” the blonde announces, tossing her menu aside like she’s done this a hundred times before. “Easy choice.”

Azzi snorts. “That’s boring.”

“Okay, model, what’s your go-to?” the blonde challenges, grinning.

Azzi hums thoughtfully. “Salmon sashimi… and tempura shrimp rolls. Oh, and gyoza.”

“Damn,” the blonde laughs. “Ordering the whole menu?”

“You literally said your ‘easy choice’ like you’ve never eaten anything else in your life.”

“Maybe I haven’t,” the blonde shoots back, grinning wider.

They both end up ordering a mix of everything — the blonde insists on adding edamame, claiming “you can’t not order edamame,” and Azzi doesn’t argue.

“So…” the blonde leans her elbows on the table. “You’re a model, huh?”

Azzi nods, fiddling with her chopsticks. “Trying to be.”

“I feel like I’ve seen you before,” the blonde says thoughtfully. “Are you, like… famous?”

Azzi laughs, shaking her head. “Not even close.”

“Well…” The blonde shrugs. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

Azzi smiles despite herself. “Guess so.”

“What about you?” Azzi asks, leaning back in her seat. “You just hang out on trains and get concussions for fun?”

The blonde grins. “Nah… I’m kinda retired.”

Azzi frowns. “From what?”

“Basketball,” the blonde says like it’s nothing. “I design sometimes, though — clothes, mostly.”

“You’re a designer?”

“Sometimes,” the blonde repeats, like it’s more of a side project than an identity. “I moved here ‘cause I know some people working in fashion. Some models too.” She gestures vaguely, then pauses. “Guess I know one more now.”

Azzi smiles, but there’s something tugging at the back of her mind.

“You know,” she says slowly. “I still don’t know your name.”

The blonde freezes, blinking once like she’s surprised.

“Oh,” she says, like she just realized it too. “Paige.”

Paige. The name settles in Azzi’s mind like something she’s supposed to remember — something important.

“Nice to meet you… Paige.” Azzi smiles.

“Likewise.” Paige’s smile is lazy, soft — like she’s already known Azzi for years.

Their food arrives, and the conversation drifts between light teasing and easy conversation. Paige’s smile never seems to falter — it’s so constant that Azzi wonders if her face just naturally sits like that.

The sushi plates were nearly empty now, chopsticks scattered across the table like forgotten utensils in a game of pick-up sticks. Paige was still talking — something about her old basketball days — but Azzi wasn’t really listening. Not properly, anyway.

She was too distracted.

By the way Paige’s fingers danced along her water glass. By the way she smiled — wide and easy, like she didn’t have a single thing to hide. By the way those blue eyes — god, those blue eyes — kept flicking back to her between sentences.

Azzi barely noticed her own phone screen lighting up beside her. She figured it was just a reminder or some random email.

“Wait, hold up,” Paige said suddenly, interrupting herself. “You keep checking the time — you got somewhere to be?”

Azzi blinked back into focus. “Shit,” she muttered, checking her lock screen properly for the first time. “Yeah… I’ve got a shoot soon.”

“You’re working today?” Paige’s eyebrows lifted. “Damn. Busy woman.”

Azzi snorted. “Something like that.”

“Oh, wait,” Paige said suddenly, snapping her fingers like she’d just remembered something important. “I ordered dessert.”

Azzi blinked. “Dessert?”

“Yeah.” Paige grinned. “Figured I’d earn some extra points in case you tried to knock me out again.”

Azzi huffed a laugh, shaking her head.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” Paige said, leaning back with a smug smile. “But you laughed, so…”

Azzi tried to fight her smile but failed

By the time they left the restaurant, Azzi was running late.

“You sure you’ll make it in time?” Paige asked as they walked back to her car.

“Yeah,” Azzi sighed. “Just gotta take the train since my driver’s off today.”

“I can take you,” Paige offered like it was nothing.

Azzi frowned. “I thought you weren’t feeling good enough to drive?”

“I’m feeling better now,” Paige said with a grin that Azzi didn’t fully trust.

“Uh-huh,” Azzi muttered.

“Look,” Paige said, twirling her keys around her finger, “it’s for safety measures.”

Azzi shot her a look. “Safety measures?”

“Yeah,” Paige said like it was obvious. “Gotta make sure you actually make it inside.”

“You’re weird.”

“I get that a lot.”

When they reached the building, Paige stayed parked at the curb, one hand still on the wheel.

“I’ll wait ‘til you’re inside,” Paige said casually.

Azzi gave her a look. “For safety measures, right?”

Paige grinned. “Exactly.”

Azzi smiled, grabbing her bag before heading to the door.

She turned back once more before walking inside, just in time to see Paige driving off.

Azzi reached for the handle — and nothing.

She tried again — still locked.

“What the hell…”

Peering through the window, she saw dim lights and empty chairs. The place was closed.

Her phone? Dead.

“Of course,” Azzi muttered.

With a sigh, she fished out her portable charger from her bag — dead too.

“Perfect.”

Azzi paced for a second, chewing her lip before finally deciding to call her agent from the nearby payphone — something she hadn’t done since, like… middle school.

“Azzi?” her agent answered almost immediately. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the building,” Azzi said. “No one’s here.”

“Because the shoot’s postponed, remember?”

Azzi froze. “Wait… what?”

“I texted you earlier,” her agent explained. “You didn’t see it?”

Azzi closed her eyes, exhaling sharply. No, she hadn’t seen it — because she’d been too busy sitting in that sushi bar, watching some blonde idiot grin her way through stories about terrible basketball injuries and spicy tuna rolls.

“My phone died,” Azzi muttered. “I didn’t see it.”

“Well… you’re off the hook for today. Go do something fun, I guess.”

“Yeah… okay.”

They hung up, and Azzi stood there for a moment, still processing everything.

Now she was stuck outside this empty building. Paige was long gone. And the last thing Azzi felt like doing was walking all the way back to the train station.

She groaned under her breath, leaning against the cold brick wall.

This is what you get for thinking with your heart — or worse… your hormones.

With a sigh, Azzi turned toward the pay phone again, fumbling for some change in her bag. She figured calling a cab was her best bet now — walking to the train station in this heat felt like some cruel punishment she didn’t deserve.

She’d just fed a quarter into the slot when she heard the familiar rumble of an engine — low and steady, like the sound of a car that had seen some things but still ran perfectly.

Azzi turned her head — and there it was.

That same black Jeep pulling into the parking lot.

The same freakishly tall blonde stepped out, holding a small paper bag and looking around like she was lost. Paige’s eyes landed on Azzi, and she grinned, jogging over like this was just a casual meetup and not the second time she’d shown up unannounced.

“Hi there,” Paige said, all smug like she knew something Azzi didn’t.

Azzi let out a soft laugh. “What are you doing here?”

“I forgot to give you this.” Paige held up the bag. “I actually ordered the dessert for you and yeah.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, and I locked my keycard in my room, sooo…” Paige winced. “Yeah.”

Azzi snorted. “Dumb blonde things?”

“Dumb blonde things,” Paige confirmed with a grin.

“What about you?” Paige asked. “Why’re you still out here, shoot over already?”

Azzi sighed. “My phone’s dead, so I didn’t see my agent’s text. The shoot was postponed, and I was too busy listening to you talk my ear off to even notice. Then you drove off, so I was stuck here debating whether to walk to the train or just call a cab — but my driver’s off today, and it’s so hot and I—”

“Whoa, whoa.”

Paige grabbed her hands — actually grabbed her hands — and Azzi froze mid-ramble.

“Calm down,” Paige said softly, her fingers giving a gentle squeeze. “Just… breathe, kay?”

Azzi exhaled shakily, her pulse still racing for a reason that had nothing to do with the weather.

“Better?” Paige asked, her eyes searching hers.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah… better.”

Paige smiled. “Good. Now c’mon — I’ll take you back to the hotel. No problem.”

Azzi blinked. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” Paige grinned again, a little softer this time. “Besides… I owe you for the amazing sushi date.”

Date? Date. Oh..a date.

Azzi masked the nervousness with a laugh under her breath. “Yeah, fair.”

Without thinking, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Paige’s waist in a quick hug.

“Thank you.” She said.

Paige went rigid at first — like she hadn’t expected it — but then her arms lifted, curling loosely around Azzi’s shoulders.

“‘S no problem, Az,” Paige murmured, her voice lower now — softer.

Azzi froze, pulling back slightly. “Az?”

Paige’s face went pink. “Oh… uh…” She scratched the back of her neck. “I mean… I just figured… I dunno, is that okay?”

Azzi grinned. “Yeah… it’s okay.”

“Cool,” Paige said, scratching the back of her neck. “Cool, cool…”

Azzi shook her head, turning toward the car.

She wasn’t sure what was more surprising — the fact that Paige had called her Az, or the fact that Azzi kinda hoped she’d say it again.

Az.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi fics #rosemariiaa

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moonstruckme · 5 months ago

Text

Thawing Out

collab with @ellecdc

cw: modern au, chronic pain, alcohol, smoking

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 3.2k words

Remus is quiet the next day at practice. Or maybe that’s only in your head. After all, it’s not like he can just shout across the ice at you like he used to at home, not with the rink packed with a dozen other figure skaters practicing before their events today and tomorrow. Maybe it’s only easier for you to imagine he feels as confused and conflicted as you do.

Evidently you’d been wrong about the feelings between Remus and Sirius. Or if you were right, Remus hasn’t taken notice of it himself yet. But perhaps it’s not your place to assume that you know what he wants. As you learned last night, you don’t even know what you want.

You didn’t realize how badly you’ve been wanting to kiss Remus until he did it for you. Your mind emptied out and your body reacted like it had been waiting for years, desperate to feel him, to learn all of him, with your mouth and your hands and the press of your nose against his cheek. Your skin became more sensitive than it’s ever been under his touch. You’ve never felt more aware of your body than you are on the ice, but Remus ignited something different in you. The softest press of his hand made you want to bend and mold yourself to his liking.

Ordinarily, you’d be desperate to tell Sirius. He’s your best friend, your partner, he’s known about every crush you’ve had since you were teenagers. But when you woke up this morning, thought about seeing him and divulging every detail from the night before, something odd and unpleasant curdled in your gut.

You’ve never had the urge to keep secrets from Sirius before. But this, you find, you don’t want him to know. It makes you feel sick even now, going in and out of turns with him while Remus watches you both from outside the boards. Watching your best friend look at you like everything is normal, with all the trust in the world, and knowing that you’re keeping this from him.

You feel guilty, though you don’t know why. And you don’t know if it’s for kissing Remus or for letting Remus kiss you. All you know is that suddenly whenever Sirius looks at you, you feel like you’re holding his heart in your hands, and you aren’t certain you can be trusted with it.

“The American is looking at you,” Sirius says as you finish your routine.

You glance behind you, catching the eyes of another skater before he looks away. Your face heats.

“He could’ve been looking at you,” you point out.

“Babe, there are lots of people here looking at me, but just as many with their eyes on you.” Sirius grins, slipping an arm around your waist. “We can feed the rumors that we’re together if you want to keep them from bothering you,” he says in a low voice, eyes drooping in a show of flirtation, “but don’t pretend you’re not the most gorgeous thing here.”

Remus’ voice echoes in your head. You’re beautiful. Your heartbeat pounds. Sirius is watching you with an easy familiarity, waiting for you to either give him the go ahead or tell him to back off. The feeling of his hand on your back makes something tighten in your core, even as that strange guilt spreads through the same area like a blight.

You swallow. “Would you be okay to run the death spiral again?”

Sirius blinks. “Now? It’s a bit crowded for that.”

“I think we can manage.” You move away from his arm, taking him by the hand instead. Your eyes meet Remus’ as you skate to a clear part of the rink. Maybe it’s still only your imagination, but you think he looks as distraught as you feel.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus feels like a piece of shit.

He’s known about Sirius’ feelings for you since forever, but you’d looked at Remus like he was still worthy of admiration and apparently that was all it took to bring him to his knees. It felt like the worst possible betrayal of Sirius, who was finally maybe becoming his friend, and then when Remus had tried to reverse course he’d hurt you, too.

The way you’d looked at him—surprised, wounded, uncertain. Remus had been too panicked to give you the explanation you deserved. He’d left you like that. And though you acted normal at practice today, he can tell he’s left you confused.

Weeks of building trust with the both of you—at first unconsciously, but lately with more intention and hope—and Remus has managed to ruin it in the course of a night. You and Sirius deserve better.

Remus wanted to be your friend—if his actions last night were any indication, part of him has wanted to be more than that—but he’ll have to make it up to you by being your coach. If he can’t do anything else, he still can get you through this competition. He’ll leave it up to you to decide if you want anything to do with him after that.

And part of being your coach, he reasons, is making sure you get enough sleep the night before competition. He doubts you’ll want to see him again, but still Remus knocks on your door to ensure you’re getting ready for bed at a reasonable hour. His heart squeezes when you answer with your toothbrush in your mouth, those sweet pajamas of yours creased and crinkled from the night before. You’re an angel for making it easy on him, your usual smiley self as you assure Remus you’re going straight to bed and wish him a good night before shutting the door.

Sirius’ room is only next to yours. The lights are out, which Remus takes as a good sign, but when he knocks there’s no answer. He knocks again.

“Sirius,” he says into the doorframe. “Just say something if you’re going to sleep.”

He waits for a groan or a resentful grumble, but there’s no sound. He knocks for a while longer. When Remus finally gets out his phone to call his charge, he listens for buzzing in the room, but he doesn’t hear it.

Sirius picks up on the third ring.

It takes Remus a while to find him. Sirius’ instructions were vague and convoluted, partly because he was lost himself and partly because of the way his words were slurring. Eventually Remus locates the other boy on the rooftop of a bar, Sirius’ legs dangling out over the street and a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Remus has to negotiate with the bar manager for a handful of minutes before he’s shown the frightening metal ladder that goes up to the roof. When he sits down beside Sirius, the first thing he does is pluck the cigarette from between his lips.

“Oi!” Sirius turns to him. Remus sets a hand on his chest, a perhaps overcautious measure to ensure he doesn’t lean himself right off the roof. “I thought you were cool about that.”

“Not the night before comp.” Remus steals the cig for himself, looking at Sirius over the glow of the cherry. “Did they just let you up here?”

It takes Sirius a second to catch onto what he’s asking about. “Yeah. Why?”

Remus shakes his head, fighting a grin. “You always get whatever you want, don’t you?”

Sirius' laugh is short and bitter. “Not quite.”

He turns away from Remus, and Remus’ heart sinks. For a brief, harrowing moment, he thinks, He knows.

Sirius says to the empty night air, “Why don’t we see how we place tomorrow, and you can tell me then if I always get what I want.”

“Oh, I see.” Remus takes another drag, relieved. “So you’ve come up here to have a pity party about things that haven’t happened yet. Have I got that right?”

Sirius pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Remus snatches it before he can react. The other boy turns around, angry now. “Piss off, Remus.”

“Wish that I could,” Remus says evenly, stowing the pack in his pocket, “but it’s my job to make sure you perform as well as you can tomorrow. That means working lungs and a clear head.”

Sirius sulks but doesn’t try to grab them back. He only looks out into the black night.

“Sirius,” says Remus, “if you’re worried about whether you’re going to medal, or what medal you’re going to get, that’s pointless. You can’t control how anyone else performs or how you measure up relative to them. All you can do is give your best to your routine.”

“Right. Is that how you thought about it as well?”

“No,” he admits. “But you guys didn’t hire a competitive teenage prick, you hired a coach.”

Sirius’ mouth kicks up at the corner. “I suppose that is better.”

“I think so,” Remus agrees. He watches the other boy for a handful of moments, sensing an opening. “You know, when it comes down to it, doing your best might involve doing an actual death spiral.”

Sirius’ expression sours again, but Remus presses on.

“I know you could do it if you wanted to. You don’t seem to want to, though. I don’t get why. At first I thought you might not trust y/n to keep herself level, but obviously you’d trust her with anything. And she trusts you to keep her there, too, so what’s the issue?”

For a while, it seems as though Sirius might not reply. The silence is thick and heavy. He continues looking out at nothing, at the stars hidden behind thick clouds, but eventually his lips part on a sigh.

“She trusts too easily. She shouldn’t be so sure of me.”

Remus’ brows furrow. Something unexpected about getting to know Sirius has been learning how quickly all his brash confidence can crumble away. It’s almost never when someone else is upset with him; rather, when he’s upset with himself. Remus used to get irritated by the other boy’s bravado, but now he’s just beginning to realize how fragile it truly is. That he never needed to bring Sirius down a peg, because Sirius was almost always already doing it himself. He’s still not quite used to it.

“Let’s get back,” Remus says gently. “It’s cold up here.”

Sirius doesn’t protest as Remus leads him downstairs, watching carefully as he climbs down the creaky ladder. On the street Sirius nearly walks into a brick wall, and Remus takes his elbow in hand to prevent it.

“You know,” he says, “y/n was actually just telling me last night that she was worried she was going to let you down.”

Sirius makes an appalled scoffing sound. “Her? What for?”

“I don’t know,” Remus half fibs. “But it would probably sound equally ridiculous to her that you’re thinking the same thing about her. And from an outside perspective, it’s always seemed to me like you’re perfectly suited to each other.”

Sirius makes a low, whiny sound. Remus startles when he pulls out of his grasp.

“Neither of you get it.” He lists sideways.

Remus grabs for him, getting an arm securely around Sirius’ waist. He can’t help but think that two weeks ago this sort of behavior from Sirius would have irked him, but now he only feels a bemused sort of tenderness. He doesn’t understand what Sirius is so upset about, but he can tell it’s not nothing. “Explain it,” he coaxes.

Sirius seems almost relieved to have been pulled back. He lets himself lean into Remus’ side. “I don’t deserve her trust,” he says in a quiet, mumbly voice. “I don’t deserve any of her. I don’t know why good people like her and James and you always find me, but I’m no good at keeping you. I’ll get mean, or selfish, and you’ll see. But I can’t—” His voice thins, and Remus’ grip on him tightens unconsciously. “I can’t risk losing her. I’m going to get her hurt, and she’ll stop trusting me, and I’ll have let her down again. I can’t do it.”

The pair walks for a while in silence. Remus can feel the shadows of deeper fears swimming underneath the ones Sirius has just divulged to him, but he’s not sure how to respond. Even during Remus’ most spectacular failures of his career, he was at least the only one who got hurt. He was never tied to anyone else, never risked anybody but himself. If he messed up, he suffered the consequences, and that was it.

Remus holds Sirius against him as he uses his card to enter the Village. The halls are quiet, most athletes and staff having turned in for the night.

“When I first started working with the two of you,” Remus says lowly, “I didn’t always see why y/n trusted you so much, either. You were a brilliant skater, of course, but you just seemed like such a tosser.”

That works as intended, getting a puff of laughter out of Sirius.

“But I knew I had to figure out a way to work with you, and she just seemed to have complete faith in you. So after a while, I just started trusting that she knew what she was doing. She knew you better than I did, of course, so I figured the two of you had an understanding I just couldn’t comprehend. And the longer I worked with you, the more I could see how she was right.

“What I’m trying to say is, it took me a while to trust you, but I came around because I trusted her. You trust her, don’t you?”

Sirius has been quiet, but at this, he looks up as though in surprise. “Of course, yeah.”

Remus suppresses a smile. They both fall silent as they pass by your room, eyes catching on the door you’re sleeping behind like there’s a siren’s call coming from within. Remus wonders if it’s for the same reasons.

After Sirius lets them into his room, Remus continues softly, “So maybe you ought to give it a try. If you can’t trust yourself, trust the faith she has in you. When is she ever wrong?”

He expects Sirius to smile at that, but he doesn’t seem to be in the mood for joking. His eyes are big and sad as he sits down on his bed, a quiet sort of asking in them.

“I think she could be wrong about this,” he says in a near whisper.

Remus’ throat aches with sympathy. He crouches by Sirius’ feet, ignoring the protests of his hip to start taking off the other boy’s shoes.

“She’s not,” he says. “She’s just smarter than the both of us. You’re loyal, and brave, and kind. She’s always known that, but it took me a while to catch on.”

“I’m not.” Sirius sounds almost desperate.

Remus doesn’t back down. “You are.” Frustration and tenderness war inside him. He sets his hands on Sirius’ knees, looking him in the eyes. “Why would I lie to you?”

A look comes over Sirius face, peculiar only in the moment before Remus recognizes it. He’s seen Sirius look that way a thousand times. At you.

Remus’ heart thumps.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus’ thumb strokes over his thigh, and Sirius’ heart does something abhorrent behind his ribs

“Sirius.” Amber eyes look into his, warm and earnest and unrelenting. “Why would I lie?”

Sirius began to sober up as soon as Remus called him earlier tonight. He’d started drinking to try and rid himself of that pesky, familiar feeling of derealization that had taken hold, but he’d stopped then. Paid his tab and gone up to the roof, where in the cool air Sirius had the powerful, frightening urge to wait for Remus and tell him everything about himself. Tell him every last terrible thing and see if he flinched.

Only he hadn’t flinched. He’d taken Sirius home, whatever drunkenness was left lost on the wind during the walk, and taken his shoes off for him, and told him in various words that he was worth something.

And now Remus is rubbing the sides of his knees. And his hands are gentle and so are his eyes, and his expression says that he believes it, that Sirius is worth something, and Sirus thinks, Fuck it.

If it goes poorly, he can say tomorrow that he was drunk and doesn’t remember a thing.

Sirius mashes his lips into Remus’.

A hoarse sound tears from somewhere inside Remus. He pushes against Sirius’ mouth, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pressing him backwards onto the bed. The mattress is hard and the frame creaks under their combined weight, Remus’ hand finding Sirius’ throat and wrapping around it like an embrace.

Sirius flips them over. Remus lets him, reclining back against the pillow propped along the wall and tugging Sirius closer like someone’s going to rip him away. He tastes like chocolate and cigarettes. A low whine rises in Sirius’ throat.

Remus’ hands loosen their grip. “Wait.”

“No,” Sirius pleads.

“Aren’t you….” Remus pants. He pulls their lips apart but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against Sirius’. “I’m confused. I thought you had feelings for y/n.”

Sirius sucks in a breath. “You know about that?”

A quiet, nervous chuckle. “Yeah, love. But you’ve just kissed me, so…I suppose I’m wondering what that means.”

Sirius’ heart trembles. “I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know.”

“It’s alright.” Remus’ voice is a balm. He kisses Sirius once, a soft peck. “What do you feel?”

Sirius opens his eyes and finds Remus watching him. The other boy’s forehead sits a bit higher than his, so Sirius has to tilt his gaze up, feeling cracked open and wretched.

“I don’t know,” he says again, softer. “Is it bad to want both?”

There’s a brief pause. Remus’ brow creases slightly. “I don’t think so,” he replies. “But I have to tell you something.”

Sirius takes his forehead away from Remus’, putting a couple of inches between them. “Go on, then.”

“Last night, I kissed y/n.”

Sirius braces himself to hide a reaction, but there’s nowhere to hide from Remus’ perceptive gaze and after a moment, Sirius finds there’s not much reaction to hide anyway. He doesn’t feel upset. The idea of Remus kissing you is…well, it’s not unlike hearing him call you pet names or watching him touch you. Sirius doesn’t wish that Remus hadn’t done it, only that he’d been there as well. He does sort of wish that he’d gotten to kiss both of you first, though.

“I stopped it as soon as my head caught up to me,” Remus goes on. He seems to be studying Sirius, though Sirius has no clue what he might find. “I felt really awful for doing it when I knew you had feelings for her, but now that you’ve said that, I think I might have feelings for both of you, too.”

“Brilliant.” Sirius’ heart is hammering, but he does his best to make his voice sound unaffected. “Then what do we do now?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You stumble out of bed half-awake. You’re not even entirely sure if someone’s knocked on your door or if you’ve dreamed it, but your feet propel you there with urgency nonetheless. You rub your eyes as you open it, mouth stretching with a yawn.

Sirius and Remus are standing outside, both rumpled but still in their daytime clothes. Their pupils are blown and lips wet and swollen.

“We were wondering,” says Remus, slightly breathlessly, “if you might have a moment.”

734 notes · View notes

kyuujo · 5 months ago

Text

↳ thinkin of u <3

↳ sae itoshi, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro x fem!reader (separate) ↳ nsfw(ish) ↳ established relationships, nudes, descriptions of masturbation (fem), “sending them nudes/spicy vids while they’re in public”, slight sexting?, contains crack (sorry i can’t help myself), no explicit sex but lots of allusions to it, language, aged up characters, not proof read :x, my writing

↳ 1k words

↳ tbh i’ve thought about this trope for a long time and finally got the creativity and inspiration to write it! i’m not entirely sure of the quality of this as i’ve never written anything like this before, but i hope it’s still enjoyable! thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoy!! <3

“… now that you’ve played alongside japan’s u-20, would you ever reconsider your decision not to join? the people want to know.”

sae sent an icy glare to the reporter across from him; he’d thought he’d made his stance on this vividly clear, but obviously not.

“no.” sae said simply, reveling in the spark of indignation his refusal brought to the man’s eyes.

“well, why not—?”

sae lifted a hand to silence the man when his phone pinged twice — maybe that was rude, but sae had the feeling that whatever had just come through his phone would be a thousand times more entertaining and engaging than the sleaze across from him.

and boy, was sae right.

my wife: seeing you on tv has me all worked up. maybe hurry it along? 😘

my wife: [video attachment]

despite his current surroundings and the many cameras pointed at him, sae opened the attachment — it was a video, one without sound, but the muteness didn’t take away from the sheer tempting nature of it.

you looked so good, back resting against the armrest of the couch and legs spread lazily and slit glistening in the flash of the camera. your fingers teased at your clit lightly, and desire shot through sae’s body as he itched to replace them with his own.

sae didn’t even get halfway through the video before his phone pinged with another message — and then another.

my wife: SAE YOU ARENT SUPPOSED TO LOOK YET

my wife: YOURE ON LIVE TV PUT IT DOWN

sae smirked and gave the reporter a lazy wave before standing.

“my deepest apologies, but i’m cutting this short. i have some other business to attend to.”

sae couldn’t give two shits about the way both the reporter and his pr manager sputtered and desperately attempted to flag him back — his woman was waiting on him at home, and that was far more important.

shidou rarely ever felt bored during matches — but so far, this one had simply been a drag. the opposing team didn’t really offer much of a challenge, and shidou had scored more points off of them than he could justly remember.

by the time half-time rolled around, shidou was seething and sweating, feeling incredibly tense and antsy as he whipped into the locker room.

his teammates knew not to bother him when he was in a dip like this, so they cleared a path for him and avoided eye contact at all costs. if shidou weren’t so frustrated he would have found it amusing.

there was only one thing that may make shidou feel the least bit better — messages from you, something he was guaranteed to find at half-time. a trickle of excitement slithered down his body when he pulled his phone from his locker and plopped down on the nearest bench. his phone read ‘3 unread messages’ when he clicked the screen on.

shidou didn’t think twice about tapping open the chat log between the two of you, a smile instantly gracing his lips at your first message.

babygirl💕: hope your match is going well baby!! i know you’re gonna rock it

babygirl💕: but on the slim to none chance that it may not be, i want to give you some motivation ;)

babygirl💕: [video attachment]

shidou probably should have ensured his sound was off before opening it — but your legs were spread open so deliciously and your fingers were working your cunt at a desperate speed, what was shidou supposed to do? think rationally? tough chance.

lewd moans and whines of “shidouuuuu” filled the locker room and ten pairs of shocked eyes met his. shidou’s cheeks warmed and anger sparked in his chest at the knowledge that now his teammates knew how absolutely angelic you sounded in the throes of pleasure.

all it took was a heavy glare and they were clearing out of the room to give him and your video some privacy.

every single tiny box on the shelf looked exactly the same.

what was he even supposed to get again? he’d read over the front of every box at least three times. pearl, radiant, braided… none of those words rung any bells in his head. what was it you had told him before he left?

“maybe it was the pearl…?” nagi murmured to himself, eyes narrowed as if that would somehow help the answer become more clearer to him. he gingerly grabbed a box and examined it before promptly putting it back on the shelf.

nagi didn’t like to admit defeat, but he’d been perusing this shelf for nearly thirty minutes and still didn’t know shit from shat — he’d have to phone a friend, unfortunately.

nagi slipped his phone from his pocket and was just about to tap open his contacts when his phone pinged with a message; ironically, it was from you.

babycake <3: hurry home love. i’m waiting for you 💕

babycake <3: [image attachment]

nagi’s eyes nearly bugged from his skull when he caught sight of the picture you’d sent him — you, sprawled across the lush queen bed, donning nothing but his freshly washed jersey. if he looked close enough, he could see the faintest tease of your nipples perked up beneath the fabric, and the hem of it fell to your mid thighs, hiding the sweet spot between your legs.

nagi sucked in a breath and clicked off his phone screen, willing his half-hard dick to calm down — at least while he was in the store. with furtive glances down each side of the isle nagi powered his screen on and, while avoiding letting his gaze fall to the tempting picture, typed a quick response.

me: omw. don’t move.

your period wasn’t due for another week, anyway. nagi always had time to figure out the pearl-versus-radiant-versus-braided debacle before then.

i genuinely had so much fun cooking these up! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments and reblogs are not at all required but are much appreciated!! <33

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bluelock x reader #sae itoshi x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #shidou ryusei x reader

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mister0ctopus · 3 months ago

Text

apart-mental issues part 2

mini series - jeon jungkook

Pairings: Neighbor JK x Reader

Summary: Just your awkward and embarrassing encounters with your next-door neighbor, Jungkook.

PART 2: acceptance is key divas welcome to after hours what can i get ya? cockblock! we should start a podcast handyman buried things avoidance open the door crack mush mush

Ratings: 18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents

Au/Genre: Mini Series, Neighbors, Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 5.9K

a/n: inspired by when i moved to my new apartment and my next door neighbor wasnt jungkook :(

🐙 Masterlist / AskMe

apart-mental issues part 1

apart-mental issues part 2

apart-mental issues part 3

apart-mental issues part 4

🔑 acceptance is key

You gave up.

You’d stopped wondering why Jungkook always seemed to catch you at your most awkward.

It was like you were that good at embarrassing yourself, and he was that good at being there to witness it.

But his presence felt significant, not just because he always seemed to be there, but because those moments—however embarrassing—had started to feel oddly comforting, like someone silently rooting for you in the background.

Like that one person you never actually spoke to but who consistently likes all your posts?

Whether it was your latest hallway stumble or your random solo commentary about your grocery list, Jungkook was always there.

Watching. Smirking. Shaking his head.

Avoiding him stopped being a thing. You stopped trying.

It got harder to keep a fixed schedule.

Your classes kept switching between in-person lectures and online sessions as you focused on your thesis.

The apartment building turned into a stage for accidental encounters—hallways, the garbage area, the stairs. You’d exchange hellos, quick chats, banters, and fleeting moments that made you feel less…alone.

Today was no different.

You stepped out of your door, balancing your bag and an iced coffee, only to find him locking his door. His hair was still slightly damp, and he was dressed in an oversized white shirt and jeans.

“Morning,” he greeted, his voice low and slightly raspy, like he hadn’t been awake long. His dimple made its familiar appearance when he smiled, and you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger for a few seconds.

“Morning,” you managed to squeak, juggling your bag and fumbling with your keys. Your iced coffee wobbled dangerously in your hand.

You knew he was watching you struggle, but you didn’t know he was biting his lip to hold back a grin.

Finally locking your door and securing your coffee, you shot him a glance. “So, what’s the agenda today? More random appliance repairs for desperate neighbors?”

“Maybe,” he said, chuckling as he stepped beside you. “Depends on how many people I see kicking trash bins today.”

You groaned and covered your face with your hands, realizing he’d seen your meltdown. “Okay, that was one time. And it was a moment of weakness.”

He shrugged, slipping his hands into his jeans’ pockets. “Hey, no biggie. We all have our moments. There’s no shame in that.”

A warm feeling spread through you. Too warm. Too comfortable. You rolled your eyes and waved. “Alright, alright. Bye, Jungkook.”

💃🏻 divas

You had a presentation coming up, and, despite years of experience, the fear of speaking in front of people never quite went away.

The thought of standing in front of your class still made your stomach drop. So, you’d been practicing nonstop, trying to memorize the key points to calm your nerves.

By the time you hit the stairs of your apartment building, you were already in full-on presentation mode.

“Speech, speech, agriculture and resource management, speech, speech, inclusive development for a more equitable world—” you waved your hand dramatically as you climbed.

“And that, my dear friends,” you muttered to yourself, “is why we’re taking economics to... to TAKE THE FREEDOM WE DESERVE!” You raised your fist in the air like you were leading a revolution.

When you reached the top, you finished with a flourish, curtsying as though you’d just wrapped up a Broadway performance. “Why thank you, thank you. No time to prepare—it was all impromptu!”

CLAP, CLAP, CLAP

You froze.

Of course.

Jungkook. Standing at the bottom of the stairs with an amused grin plastered across his face, his eyes sparkling like he'd just witnessed the best performance of a century.

You blinked.

You'd grown used to these perfectly timed encounters with him, but that didn't make them any less embarrassing.

So, without missing a beat, you turned to him, giving a dramatic bow, as if the applause was exactly what you expected. “Thank you, thank you,” you said with an exaggerated flourish, playing along. “I couldn’t have done it without my loyal fans!”

Later that night, you found yourself in his kitchen, sipping tea as Jungkook crouched on the floor, sleeves rolled up, intensely focused on fixing your ancient electric fan.

Yes, it was old, but it was salvageable, and the repair was free in exchange for a cup of tea.

“You know,” you said, watching as he tightened a screw, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who willingly fixes things for their neighbors. Is this, like, a secret hobby or something?”

He glanced up at you, lips curling into a teasing smile. “Neighbor,” he corrected. “You’re the only one getting this free repair service. And no, not a hobby. I do this at work—electronic appliances, product development, testing… all the boring stuff.”

"Boring?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow. "No way. Not boring at all. Honestly, I think I should be friends with you, just in case. If you haven’t noticed, I’m basically a walking disaster. I could definitely use a repair guy!"

He laughed, setting the screwdriver down. "Hmm, should I start charging?" He leaned back against the counter, looking at you with a smirk. "So, what are you studying?"

“Just wrapping up my bachelor’s in economics,” you said, taking a sip of tea.

“And working too, right?” he added, tilting his head.

“Yup. Waitressing in the meantime,” you replied with a grin. “So, you know, living the dream. Hot stuff.”

His eyes widened slightly, clearly impressed. “Economics? While working? Wow. That’s… wild. And kind of amazing.”

“Yeah, right?” you replied, playfully tucking your hair behind your ear.

Jungkook’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary before he cleared his throat and turned back to the fan.

The conversation drifted from school to work to random bits of life—your rambling and his chuckles filling the space.

By the time he finished fixing the fan, you realized you’d been standing in his kitchen for over an hour.

🍻 welcome to after hours what can i get ya?

The next day, your shift started like any other at the bustling bar.

It was a casual spot, perfect for after-work crowds and people looking to unwind.

It was also known for its servers—those who “enhanced the customer experience” with short skirts, crop tops, and a whole lot of upbeat energy.

You adjusted your uniform, the cut highlighting your cleavage and legs. The regulars' eyes already followed you, but you'd grown used to it. It was just part of the job.

Balancing a tray of beers and nachos, you navigated the packed floor with practiced ease.

Then, you turned a corner and—

Jungkook?

There he was. Right in the middle of a group of coworkers, laughing at something one of them had said.

For a second, everything froze. His eyes locked onto yours, and his jaw dropped. He quickly grabbed his water glass and brought it to his lips—only to choke when he fully realized who he was looking at.

You’d told him you worked as a server—you just never mentioned where. Did that matter?

“Are you okay?” one of his friends asked, slapping his back as Jungkook coughed.

You? Completely unbothered. Professional. Cool. Totally unaffected by the fact that your cute, laid-back neighbor was sitting there, staring at you like he’d just realized you had boobs. Or a woman. Not the pale, messy-haired, oversized hoodie-wearing mess you were at home.

“Hi, welcome to After Hours,” you said smoothly, pulling out your notepad. “What can I get for you guys?”

Jungkook’s friends rattled off their orders—beer, nachos, the usual—but Jungkook? He stayed silent, eyes still wide, locked on you.

“And you?” You turned to him, giving him a soft smile.

“Uh—just, uh, a burger,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

“Fries with that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, smile never leaving your lips.

“S-sure,” he stammered, those boba eyes wide and a little embarrassed.

“Got it,” you replied, flashing him a full smile. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.” You turned to leave, but you swore you caught him sighing softly as you walked away.

The smirk that crept onto your face was unavoidable. He’d tried to play it cool, but his eyes had lingered just a bit longer. Not that you blamed him. The uniform was designed to get reactions like that, and you knew the effect it had.

Yeah, I look different in my work clothes.

Wait, why are you enjoying this?

When you returned with their beers, you set them down with practiced grace. “Enjoy,” you said, in a rehearsed, flirty voice, flashing another sweet smile before turning to walk away.

As you leave, you heard one of his friends say, “Dude, she’s hot.”

You didn’t catch Jungkook’s reply, but you kept walking. Still, the smirk never quite left your lips.

🍆 cockblock!

The next evening, you were coming home from work, juggling a grocery bag and your tote when you spotted Jungkook ahead of you, walking toward his door. You were about to joke about your brief interaction at the bar the night before, but—

This time, he wasn’t alone.

There she was—tall, gorgeous, and effortlessly stylish. She stood by his door as Jungkook unlocked it, laughing at something he’d said, her hand resting on his arm.

You froze mid-step. Should you keep walking? Turn around? Pretend you’d forgotten something?

Why did you feel so awkward?

Too late. He looked up and saw you.

“Hey,” he greeted casually, flashing you his usual soft smile.

You managed a stiff "hey" in return, offering a tight-lipped smile and a quick nod before bolting to your door like a startled deer.

Inside, you tossed your keys onto the counter, muttering under your breath, “Cute. Whatever. I don’t care.”

But you did.

You stood there, groceries in hand, staring at the counter. What was this feeling?

You couldn’t name it. It lingered, unresolved, like a song stuck in your head but with no tune.

You lay down on your bed, staring at the ceiling, bracing yourself for the night. Part of you half-expected to hear the sounds of his obviously better-than-yours sex life drifting in from next door.

Thin walls.

But the night stayed quiet. Too quiet.

The next morning, you bumped into him on your way to class. He was dressed in sweats and a shirt, his hair slightly tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed, a black plastic trash bag in his hand.

“Morning,” he said, offering that small, easy smile.

You hesitated before blurting out, “Thanks for keeping it quiet last night. As you can see, I had to get up early for class today.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard, before a grin spread across his face. “Oh, uh... that’s because she didn’t stay long.”

You froze. “Oh…Okay. Well, I hope I didn’t cockblock or anything.”

Jungkook let out a soft laugh, brief but warm. “All good.” His eyes crinkled at the corners, and you swore you felt your stomach flip.

You couldn’t think of anything else to say, so you nodded awkwardly and turned to walk away, silently cursing yourself.

“Hey,” he called after you.

You stopped and turned, heart racing for no reason.

“Yeah?”

“Have a good day.” He shrugged, his smile lingering longer than neccesary.

“You too,” you mumbled before hurrying toward the exit. Your cheeks may or may not have been red.

As you walked away, you realized your hands were gripping the strap of your bag so tightly it hurt.

Stupid Jungkook, with his stupid bunny smile.

🎙️ we should start a podcast

“YOU THINK I WOULDN’T FIND OUT?!” A loud voice, followed by the unmistakable crash of something glass breaking.

You glanced at the time—7:10 am.

The walls of this building might as well be paper.

Groaning, you buried your head in your pillow. You were free today. No classes. No work. Just sleep.

The yelling grew louder, words like “cheater” and “homewrecker” repeatedly thrown around during the heated argument.

Sleep was a lost cause now. You sighed and sat up, glancing at the clock.

By the time you opened your door to investigate the noise, Jungkook was already leaning in his doorway, a mug in hand, grinning like he was watching a reality TV show.

“Good morning!” he said, raising the mug in a mock toast.

“Ugh! They’re still going?” you grumbled, rubbing your eyes as you heard the voices not backing down.

He shook his head, chuckling. “But free entertainment, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You’d planned to sleep in, but somehow, you ended up in the middle of the hallway with Jungkook, coffee in hand, both of you fully immersed in the commotion.

You’d nod dramatically whenever someone made a solid point, raising your mug like you were cheering them on, and then pull exaggerated faces every time someone threw out a lame argument. Honestly, this was way more entertaining than staying in bed.

A few hours later, you and Jungkook were on your couch, two empty bowls of bibimbap scattered on the coffee table. You were trading theories about the fighting neighbors. Jungkook’s convinced the third party is someone from within the building.

“Jungkook, where are you getting this idea? Only Murders in the Building? You don’t even watch that show!” you groaned. It’s been hours, and he’s still holding on to this theory.

He leaned in, eyes wide with drama. “I swear I saw the guy in the parking lot at 10 pm last week. He was with a blonde lady who looked like the woman from the first floor. Heavy smoker, big hair, dirty blonde? You know her. They were whispering.”

“What if they were just talking? Friendly talk?” you quipped, not buying his theory because of weak evidence.

“In the dark? Behind a car? At 10 pm?!” He was practically jumping off the couch.

“Well, still! They could be just talking.”

“Whispering,” he corrected. “And about what? Hmm? Recipes? Best day to take out the trash? What’s so important to discuss at 10 pm in the dark?”

He was so invested now, his hands gesturing with full animation.

“Okay, okay, calm down, Perez Hilton. Jeez.” You raised your hand, mock surrendering.

He threw his head back, and you both laughed.

“We should start a podcast. Only Gossips in the Building with Jungkook & YN,” he said, his eyes glinting with excitement.

And just like that, your conversation was a whirl of podcast names, wild theories, and dramatic reenactments.

Hours flew by, with no signs of slowing down.

🔧 handyman

The next morning, you barely managed to drag yourself out of bed for your morning online class, splashing water on your face in a half-awake state. As you reached for your laptop, a knock at the door startled you.

Opening it hesitantly, you found Jungkook standing there, a black repair tool box in hand and a soft smile on his lips.

“Good morning!” he said, his voice a little too cheerful.

“Good... morning?” you replied, eyebrows furrowed. You were too groggy to connect why he, was at your door first thing in the morning.

He gestured toward your living room. “So, I noticed your bookshelf yesterday—half-built, just sitting there taking up space, and, well, I figured you’re home for classes this morning, right? Thought I’d finish it.”

Oh. That bookshelf. You cringed internally as you remembered your disastrous DIY attempt. The instructions had seemed so simple… until they weren't. That was three weeks ago.

“Honestly? I could really use your expert services,” you admitted, stepping aside to let him in.

He chuckled and followed you to the living room. Kneeling in front of the half-built bookshelf, he inspected it with a quick glance.

“My services aren’t free anymore,” he said, deadpan.

You gasped in mock offense. “Wow, already monetizing your skills? How much are we talking here?”

“I’m happy with just a cozy cup of coffee,” he said with a playful smirk, not looking up.

You clutched your chest dramatically. “Oh, thank goodness. Something I can actually afford. Guess I should milk this generosity before you raise your rates, kind sir.”

His laugh was low but genuine as you shuffled to the kitchen.

When you returned with the coffee, you handed it to him like it was a prized treasure. “Here you go. Only the finest instant brew.

He accepted the cup with a quiet “thank you” and focused on the instruction manual you’d abandoned weeks ago.

“I’ll be at the dining table for my lec…” You paused mid-sentence, scanning for your bag when you remembered you still needed to put on some lip tint. You couldn't show up looking like a zombie today for an important class.

Jungkook, still waiting for you to finish, simply stared at you, his gaze soft but expectant.

“Oh, sorry,” you mumbled, distracted. “Just remembered I need to look alive for class today.” You quickly began rummaging through your bag as soon as you found it on the couch, your fingers grazing over everything but the lip tint.

“You look perfect no matter what,” he said casually, not missing a beat, his attention already back on the bookshelf.

Your heart skipped a beat, the warmth spreading across your cheeks as his words settled in. You tried to shake it off, your voice a little shakier than usual.

“Lectures starting soon, so… if you need anything, which I highly doubt, just wave me down.”

You didn’t even look at him when you spoke, but his simple compliment hit you harder than you expected, and your stomach fluttered in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

From your seat at the dining table, you caught glimpses of him—his brows furrowed in concentration, an occasional nibble on his lower lip. Every now and then, his eyes flicked toward you, and you could’ve sworn he caught you staring back at him too.

By the time your class wrapped up, Jungkook had not only finished the bookshelf but had also fixed the lamp that he’d switched on yesterday but didn’t work.

As he packed up his tools, you blurted, “I’m so sorry. A cup of coffee isn’t enough for all this work.”

He shrugged, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “It’s fine. I had the time. Besides, I couldn’t just let these things stay broken when they’re easy fixes… they mess with my peace.”

You rolled your eyes. "Okay, Mr. ‘I can fix you’ guy. But still..."

An idea popped into your head, and before you could second-guess it, you walked over to the fridge.

“Hey, so, I made pasta last night... It’s not, like, fancy or anything. I was actually craving japchae but, didn’t have the ingredients, so... pasta. Anyway, um, take this as payment? I mean, if you want... It’s not much, but it’s food, so... yeah.” You hesitated, still unsure about offering your cooking. It wasn’t exactly top chef materiall. You offered the container to him.

His smile widened as he took the container. “Pasta works. Thanks. Wow, honestly, I’m enjoying getting paid more than I thought.”

“Good,” you quipped, opening the door for him. “Maybe we can negotiate a discount next time?”

He chuckled, giving a lazy wave as he stepped out. “See you, YN.”

The next morning, when you opened your door to start your day, a paper bag greeted you. Inside was your container, now filled with japchae, and a note:

“I cooked too much last night. – JK”

⚰️ buried things

Slowly, without meaning to, Jungkook became a constant in your life.

Before you even realized it, you found yourself spending more and more time in each other’s apartments, as if it just... happened.

You slowly started making space for each other in the chaos of your busy lives, finding yourselves yapping away at the end of each exhausting day.

You’d talk about the most random and dumbest things—the mundane happenings in the apartment, his annoying coworker that he’d impersonate to perfection, or your professor, whom you were pretty sure was having an affair with one of the faculty staff.

And you’d end up laughing so hard, you’d be on the floor, tears in your eyes.

He’d fix things for you without you asking or pick up on the little things you’d meant to take care of but forgot.

He’d listen to your mindless ramblings. You’d catch yourself mid-story, realizing you had already told him this a million times before—and you’d apologize. But Jungkook would just look at you, smile, and say, “It’s okay, I like hearing this story. Especially the part where you—“ and he'd lean in, genuinely interested in what you said.

It was like he saw all the tiny messes in your life, both literal and figurative, and took care of them because he wanted to. It was just in his nature.

And somehow, you started feeling more and more comfortable talking to him about everything—those random, unfiltered thoughts that flitted through your mind. You didn’t feel the weight of being judged or the worry of being too weird.

You didn’t even know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, you started really noticing him. It wasn’t just that he was attractive—though, of course, he was—but there was something beyond that.

You noticed little things.

Like, how good he smelled, that subtle hint of fresh laundry mixed with his cologne. Or how he’d touch his ears when he got shy.

And oh, food! The way he got so dramatic about it. When the food was amazing, his face would scrunch up like he was about to start a fight with anyone. It was like he was angry, but also excited, and it was so ridiculously endearing.

But the one thing you couldn’t ignore anymore is the way his eyes lingered on you. Not in a way that felt strange, but in a way that felt like he saw you.

There seemed to be stars in his eyes, and sometimes they lit up even in the dark, appearing brighter when you smiled.

The things you've buried are clawing their way to the surface, and it terrifies you.

It’s been ages since you allowed yourself to truly feel.

How do you face what’s been hidden for so long?

So, you do what’s easiest, what’s most familiar:

🫥 avoidance

You avoided him again.

This is the best course of action.

When you heard his door open, you’d pause mid-step, holding your breath until you were sure he’d gone inside.

If you were in the hallway when he appeared, you’d suddenly remember something you “forgot” in your apartment and make a quick retreat.

Once, you almost tripped over your own shoes in your rush to slam your door shut. Smooth.

"People can only meet you as deeply as they've met themselves."

And you're not ready to meet yourself at the level life is requiring you to be at.

But Jungkook noticed. Of course, he did.

One evening, there was a knock at your door.

🚪open the door

You hesitated before opening the door, uncertainty gnawing at you. Were you ready for this?

When you did open it, there he was—Jungkook, standing with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—his eyes were searching.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked, blunt as ever, but his tone was gentle, almost hesitant.

“No,” you replied too quickly, the word almost sounding like a question.

He raised an eyebrow. “Then stop pretending you don’t see me in the hallway. Stop shutting the door before I can say hi. Stop avoiding me.”

You winced, retreating into the safety of your living room. He followed, shutting the door quietly behind him. “I’m not—”

“Sure. You’re just too busy, right?” he said, his voice softer but laced with frustration.

You folded your arms defensively. “I am! Work and school are killing me, Jungkook. I barely have time for myself, let alone anyone else.”

Silence hung between you.

When you finally turned back to face him, he sighed softly. Slowly, he stepped closer, his hands still buried in his pockets as if to keep them from reaching out.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice low and steady. “I just… I feel like you’re avoiding me, and I don’t know why, or if I’ve done something wrong. That’s all.”

You shook your head, unsure of how to respond. Confrontation wasn’t your strong suit, and right now, you felt cornered.

"I’m sorry," was all you could manage.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it was heavy, charged. His gaze didn’t waver as it traced over your face, as if searching for some hidden clue. Your heart raced beneath the weight of it.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“I need to tell you something,” he said, his tone serious but gentle. “But you don’t have to do anything about it, okay? I just... I can’t keep it to myself anymore.”

You froze.

His eyes held that look—like he was about to spill something that had been bottled up for too long.

You’ve never been good with spilled milk. Do you just wipe it up? What if it’s too much to handle?

Can you just leave it and cry? Panic crept in, and you took a step back.

No no no.

“Jungkook—”

“I like you, YN” he said, cutting you off. His voice was steady, but his hands fidgeted with his thumb, betraying the tension in his body. You caught the slight tremble in his fingers as he continued, “A lot. And I know I wasn’t exactly subtle.”

Your breath caught. “I... I don’t know what to say—”

“It’s okay,” he said, his words softer now, warmer. “I just needed to tell you, because it’s been sitting with me for a while. I don’t expect anything from you. There’s no pressure to respond or feel the same way. I just think…you deserve to know how amazing I think you are. That’s all.”

There it was. Spilled.

You stood there, frozen for a moment, as his words settled around you, your mind scrambling for the right words, but none came. His gaze held yours, patient and kind. He took another step forward, his hands reaching up to gently rest on your shoulders.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. As if he read the questions in your head, he added, “It’s okay. You don’t have to figure everything out right now.”

He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his warm fingers brushing your cheek for just a moment.

You felt a shiver run through you at the softness of his touch and closed your eyes, letting it linger.

“Okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

“Okay,” he said, his lips curling into the faintest smile.

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel rushed.

You didn’t feel like you had to fix anything, clean up the mess, or even apologize for the things you couldn’t face.

It was enough to just be.

🖤 crack

You feel like dying. No seriously.

Achy, feverish, and barely able to breathe through your nose, you debated ignoring the insistent knock at your door. You know it is Jungkook, who else?

You open the door to find Jungkook standing there, his bunny smile all teeth flashing and eyes crinkling. “Hey, I cooked too much last night,” he says, holding up a huge container. But his smile fades into concern when he sees your state—blanket draped over you, eyes red.

“Wait, are you sick?” he asks, placing his hand on your forehead.

“Yeah, I feel like dying. I’m just gonna sleep it off—”

“You need to eat and take medicine,” he cuts you off as he steps inside.

“Jungkook, I’m literally contagious—”

“My immune system is strong, I’m not gonna get sick,” he says confidently, already heading into your kitchen and rummaging through your cabinets like he lives there.

“What are you doing?” you ask, wanting him to leave so you can go back to bed.

“I’m gonna reheat the food so you can take your medicine,” he says, placing the pot on the stove.

“Don’t you have work?”

He waves you off. “I’m not going in. My strong immune system and I are staying here,” he says with a gentle smile.

You groan, leaning against the doorframe of your room. “You’re gonna get sick too!”

“Nah,” he says, stirring the pot with a ladle. “But if I do, you’ll owe me, and I’ll think of something as payment.”

You blink at him, too sick to come up with a sharp reply. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re stubborn. Now, let’s get you to bed while we wait for your food.” He smiles as he gently guides your shoulder toward the bed.

You obey, mostly because you don’t have the energy to fight him, and watch as he moves around your apartment, reheating the soup and fussing over your blanket situation, saying it wasn’t warm enough.

You sleep the entire day, letting the sickness take over, but Jungkook makes sure you eat, stay hydrated, and take your medicine. He checks your temperature every four hours and places a damp cloth on your forehead.

When you woke up in the middle of the night, you found him curled up on the couch. You noticed he had changed from his work clothes this morning into sweatpants and a hoodie, which was now pulled over his head, his face smooshed into a pillow. His legs were bent awkwardly to fit your short couch, and the blanket you’d thrown over him earlier had slipped halfway onto the floor.

You shuffled closer, your socks muffling your steps. "Hey," you whispered, gently nudging his shoulder.

"Hey," he mumbled, blinking up at you groggily. "You okay? Need something?"

"Yeah.” You smiled softly, trying to keep the laugh from escaping at how adorable he looked, all disoriented and sleepy. "You to not sleep on my couch."

He blinked at you in confusion, his sleepy eyes squinting. "What? Why? It's fine—"

"Just come sleep on the bed with me. Please?" you interrupted, your arms instinctively wrapping around yourself to ward off the chill.

He stared at you for a moment, his gaze softening as his lips tugged into the faintest smile. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yes. Let’s go."

His smile widened, and the dim light from the lamp caught in his eyes, making them sparkle. Slowly, he sat up, picked up the blanket from the floor, and followed you to your room.

The bed creaked slightly as he slid under the covers beside you, keeping a noticeable gap between you both. His movements were careful, as though he was afraid to disturb you more than he already had.

"Don’t steal the blankets," you mumbled, already half-asleep again as you burrowed into your pillow.

"Wouldn’t dream of it," he murmured back, his voice so soft and gentle it felt like a warm blanket of its own.

You felt the faintest brush of his breath as he settled beside you, and the space between you seemed to hum with a comfortable warmth.

You drifted back to sleep with a clogged nose and a full heart.

The next morning, when you woke up feeling more like yourself, Jungkook was gone. But there was a neatly folded note on your nightstand, beside a full water bottle and your medicines neatly arranged.

Take your meds on time, okay? There’s food in the fridge for the whole day. Rest up. I’ll see you tonight. – JK

You sat there, staring at the note, feeling your chest tighten in the best way. Like this tiny piece of paper had power over you. And then, like it was nothing, you felt the corners of your mouth curve into a smile.

When you opened the fridge , you find everything prepped and labeled, you couldn’t help but feel flutters in your stomach.

After eating and taking your medicine, you returned to bed. As you settled under the covers, you heard a crack... but you smiled, because it was just the walls you’d built starting to crumble.

♥️ mush mush

Life with Jungkook had become like a well-worn hoodie—cozy, familiar, and easy. It was a rhythm that felt so natural, you sometimes wondered how you’d survived without it. You’d always thought your schedule, your goals, and that thick wall around your heart left no room for anyone else.

But he didn’t just fit into your life. He expanded it, creating space for you to breathe and for himself to occupy every empty corner you hadn’t realized was there.

You learned his quirky habits, and he learned yours.

His laundry hobby (yes, hobby) was a serious thing to him. Jungkook treated it like a sacred ritual, complete with special detergent and fabric softener combos he swore by. “It’s about the clothes-to-detergent ratio,” he’d explain, holding up his freshly laundered Calvin Klein boxers like a badge.

Meanwhile, you’d start one task—say, doing the dishes—and somehow end up reorganizing your bookshelf because, obviously, that was the logical next step. Jungkook would laugh when he caught you confused, gently nudge you back to the original task, or finish whatever you had left undone.

The cooking thing had become a ritual too. You’d started cooking for each other when time allowed—mostly him, though, because he was always willing to cook. So, on your day off, you decided to surprise him with his favorite dish. When he walked in and saw it, his face lit up, eyes wide with genuine surprise.

“Did you make this for me?” he asked, his voice dripping with surprise, his eyes big and bright.

“No,” you shot back, “It’s for the cute guy right next door.”

“Oh, he’s cute? No, no, he doesn’t want to be called cute. He’s hot, right?” He pouted.

“Yeah,” you replied, taking a bite, “He’s so hot I’m gonna ride his dick someday.”

Jungkook choked—and you couldn’t help but laugh. He looked at you in wide-eyed disbelief, but his smile was already tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Careful, baby.” He smirked. “That’s a very dangerous thing to say.”

You just kept eating like you hadn’t just said something that made your own insides warm. But your bravado faltered when Jungkook leaned closer, his fingers brushing against your lips.

“You’ve got sauce,” he said softly, wiping it away with his thumb. And then—like it was the most casual thing in the world—he brought his thumb to his lips, licking it clean.

The sound he made was enough to make you press your legs together.

Fucking hell.

Of course, you’d had your moments. The intense, messy, make-out sessions that left you breathless and tangled in each other’s arms. But nothing beyond that. Not yet.

Because Jungkook was gentle. Respectful. Even though you could see the hunger in his eyes, he never pushed. Never made you feel like you were anything less than perfect, even with all your hesitations.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want him.

Jesus, have you seen the man? A full-course meal. A body that screams sex, a face that could make anyone write fanfics about him. He could easily be a Calvin Klein model!

But some part of you still felt like crossing that line was final. A seal on something monumental, something with the power to change your world in ways that scared you more than you'd ever admit.

But tonight, as you watched him laugh at your antics and go about his weird little Jungkook ways, you realized something else.

It’s been two months since his confession, and even though he told you he didn’t need an answer, you know deep down that you can’t keep avoiding it.

Jungkook had bared his feelings with such honesty and vulnerability, and even if he insisted he didn’t want a yes or no, you knew better.

Because you knew, deep down, the walls around your heart had fallen…

Crushed, powdered, nothing but dust now.

And as you sat with that realization, you understood something even more profound:

It wasn’t force that shattered them.

It was his gentleness.

<- Prev Next ->

a/n: hey <3 if you enjoyed this piece, could you let me know what you liked? it helps me understand what kind of writing i’ll focus on in the future. thanks for your kind words, really really made my heart dance holy shit just realized i have a validation kink aaaah! thanks for reading! -🐙

taglist: @goldietigers294 @ericawantstoescape @kyljjk @daskewl

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withlovenavi · 6 months ago

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chapter 3: the photo

pro!ushijima, who is the most offline man possible as a professional athlete, is focused reading the terms and conditions of instagram. he’s in his grey couch, after an intense workout, wet hair, thin metal glasses barely in his nose, grey sweatpants and an old tshirt from genji university.

during your morning call, you rambled about something about instagram stories and how a friend reacted. or something like that. ushijima didn’t really understood the problem but you seemed to pick up that he wasn’t following.

“just tell me your instagram and you’ll see everything.”

“i don’t have instagram.”

you went silent. ushijima wondered if he said something to upset you like that friend.

something happened on the train and you started telling him about him, happily chatting until you came to your office.

after two hours of reading all terms and conditions, a tutorial, a various attempts of setting an username, ushijma was officially on instagram.

his first follower is you.

you are quite giggly when he told you. immediately, you help him to get more things done (a profile photo, a biography, how to follow others, some instagram etiquette…). something he find incredible grateful it’s that you don’t seem weirded out whenever he asked if he didn’t understand. you even try to explain the logic behind them. you, in some ways, reminds him of satori and both of you are in his top favorite people.

the news of ushijima wakatoshi having an instagram account spread wilde. in less than 24 hours, he became one of the most followed volleyball players.

from his manager, he received praise and encouragement to be more active on social media. his current teammates greed him with his new username (ushijima is 75% sure they’re teasing him), his former teammates demand a follow back.

at some point, between oikawa endless tips, satori insistence and his agent talk about the importance of being present on social media, ushijima takes a photo at the big mirror of the lobby of his building after his 5am run and, without any second thoughts.

ushijima wakatoshi has never had his phone blow up by so many notifications.

masterlist

chapter 4: the pet name

🌸 @ultracheesesideboob 🌸

#haikyuu #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #ushijima x you #pro!ushijima #haikyuu ushijima

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walkingnearfoxes · 4 days ago

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Hi walker!! Bit of a stretch, but I loooove how your fanfics have been turning out and was wondering if I could make a request? I've been having a little bit of a tough break right now (college stuff, family, you know, the works) and could use a good comfort fic from the Homie himself? Feel free to go crazy, it can be just fluff, or fluff turned NSFW, whatever first comes to mind. Thank you soooo much! Well wishes, H. Dok

Hi, there! Thanks for the adorable request. I’m so sorry you’re going through a rough time right now. Wishing you all the best and hope this brings a little comfort <3

“How much does this paper actually matter?”

Your responding sigh is exhausted - the kind of exhausted that has already answered this question twice. You turn in your desk chair to look at the pouting supe behind you. Homelander has been sitting on your bed for most of the day. Despite warning him you would be working on this assignment for the better part of the day, he hadn’t moved from his spot. He sits with his legs spread, his fingers impatiently drumming on the tops of his thighs. He looks every bit the child denied their favorite candy.

“I told you it would be an all-day thing,” You remind him as gently as you can manage - which, at this point, isn’t very.

The wrinkle between his brows crinkles further. “How does an essay take this long?”

Your grip on the back of your chair tightens a bit, and his eyes follow the movement curiously. You reply slowly, “It’s not just an essay, Homelander. It’s the final. It’s the biggest part of my grade.”

He scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. Just turn it in already.” His knowledge of college, though he’d never admit it, is minimal. Anything he knows about postsecondary education comes from movies where courses last twenty minutes, and the rest of the day is in booze-covered basements.

“I can’t,” You tell him as you turn back to face your laptop. “If you’re bored, I’m sure a few sororities would lose their minds at a Homelander spotting.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, and you hear the squeak of your mattress. His gloved fingers descend on your shoulders a moment later, squeezing them lightly. “Why have them when I could have you?” He purrs, and his voice is dangerously close to your ear. He sucks gently behind it and smirks against your skin at the unconscious gasp you let out. “C’mon, babe. You deserve a break.”

He is a master at temptation, enough that you nearly fall for it. It would be so easy to let him use his many talents to climax away your problems. But your eyes remain locked on the paper, and you find the willpower to shake your head. “I can’t.”

There is a long pause, and you don’t need to turn around to read his expression. People do not say no to Homelander. Hearing it from his partner is an insult that has him frowning and immediately removing his hands from you. He lets out a growl of frustration. “For fuck’s sake…you’re doing all of this for what? A diploma no one’s gonna look at?”

That gets you to turn and look at him. He looks so ridiculously out of place, the bright colors of his costume too harsh against your apartment’s landscape. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask him. You stand up from your chair, and the motion worsens his irritated glare.

“It means you’re stressing yourself out over bullshit that doesn’t matter!” He snaps. “You don’t need this degree. You have-”

“You?” You snap immediately. “And what exactly does that make me, Homelander? I am not just your partner. I’ve worked hard for this and won’t throw it away because you can’t stand to be alone with your thoughts for a day!”

In a flash of expression so quick anyone else would miss it, he looks like a kicked puppy. His blue eyes are wide, his lip jutting out in clear insult at anyone else talking back to him in such a way. You’re sure he would rip anyone else in two for daring to say such words, but you have always been the exception for him - even now. He expertly masks the hurt to a cold annoyance and huffs. “Fine. You wanna be alone so bad? I’ll leave.”

You don’t have time to say anything before he storms out of the room. He’s too quick for you to be sure if he leaves through the door or the balcony, but the apartment feels eerily absent without him. This is what you wanted, you remind yourself. You slowly sit back in your chair and stare numbly at your laptop. He’ll be back. You know that. But now, on top of everything else, you’ll be dealing with a very grumpy supe at one point or another.

~-~

It takes you a few more hours before you finally submit the assignment. Your eyes are strained, your back hurts, and you have never so desperately wanted to be clean. You manage to get yourself up and into the shower. You think back to your little Homelander spat as you wash. It’s not the first time you have disagreed as a couple, but it’s certainly the closest you have come to losing your temper with him. You’re so stressed. There’s classes, there’s family, and there’s him. Can he blame you for losing it?

Yes, you think to yourself as you exit the shower. He can. Homelander always gets what he wants, which doesn’t involve his partner sassing him. You shake your head as you exit the bathroom and pull a cozy bathrobe over your body. Whenever you saw him again, there would be hell to pay.

You didn’t expect him to be here already.

Homelander stands in the center of your bedroom with his hands folded behind him. You give a little jump and squeak in surprise. His lip curls up in fond amusement so briefly you nearly miss it, and then he steels his face. He nods curtly over to your desk. You follow the motion and find a pile of things next to your laptop. You take a step closer for a better inspection. Among the treasure trove are your favorite snacks, bath bombs and shower steamers every color of the rainbow, and candles in your most beloved scents. You spy a new video game you had mentioned being excited about, a book you eyed in a bookstore months ago, and jewelry that perfectly reflects your eyes. You stare at the valuables for a long moment and then slowly turn to look at Homelander. He quietly clears his throat and bounces on the pads of his feet.

“I put ice cream in the freezer,” He murmurs with a near-boyish shyness. “Didn’t want it to…melt. On your desk. Get all sticky.”

“What is this?” You ask quietly. He loves lavishing you with gifts, but you had practically kicked him out a few hours ago.

He stops lightly bouncing and gestures to your personalized fortune. “You’re pushing yourself too far. Your body smells like adrenaline and defeat.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean…” Homelander growls, pinching the bridge of his nose and clenching his eyes shut. He takes a breath and then looks back at you. His frustration fades immediately, and his hands twitch at his sides - like he’s using his whole reserve of self-restraint to keep from reaching out to you. “You need this, so I got it.”

Homelander will never form the words “I’m sorry.” Not seriously, anyway. He may never be able to come out and say that he’s worried - that he needs you to be okay. But he is, and he does. You move over to the pile and pick up one of the snacks. You tilt your head. “Wasn’t this discontinued ages ago?”

You see him smile out of the corner of your eye. “Had to call in a favor or two,” He explains, and you could swear you see his chest puff.

You laugh and place it back down. You walk over to him, and for a split moment, he looks nervous. Then, you gently wrap your arms around his waist, and he deflates. He lets out a quiet sigh of relief and nuzzles his head into the side of your neck.

“I’ve got good news for you,” You murmur to him, smiling at his quiet hum of acknowledgment against your skin. “That’s the last assignment for the term.”

“Thank God,” He mutters between soft kisses to the side of your neck. “Sure you’re not gonna quit?”

“Very sure, yes.”

“Worth a shot,” He brushes his lips up your jawline and gives a nip beneath your ear. His hands shift from embracing you to running purposefully along your sides, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. “You know, there’s plenty of other ways I can help you to relax…”

You snort and tighten your arms around him. “If you want to do all the work, sure.”“Oh, I’d be honored to do so,” He purrs, reaching around to give your ass a good squeeze. “Anything for my poor, overworked lover.”

#fic requests #the boys #homelander #my writing #homelander x reader #homelander x you #we are all just stressed beans that need a personal homie #or maybe not that's too many homies

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seokgyuu · 2 years ago

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→ PAIRING: Chan (Dino) x Afab!Reader x Seungkwan. → GENRE: Friends to Lovers, kinda comedy, tiny bit of fluff, adult content: smut MDNI. → SYNOPSIS: One night of careless drinking with your 13 closest friends leads to Chan and Seungkwan finally finding out you have a crush on them. How lucky you are that the feelings are mutual and that they want to show you just how much they worship you. → WARNINGS: alcohol use, cursing, mutual masturbation (m/m), dirty talk, loads of kissing (m/f/m), blowjobs, mouth, throat and cheek fucking, cum eating, softdom!chan, oral (f receiving), use of petnames: baby, princess, slut, protected sex, double penetration (vaginal & anal), multiple orgasms, really this is filthy lmao → WORDCOUNT: 10.7k

A/N: hello!! what started as a boochan brainrot ended in a boochan brainrot for @bitchlessdino's birthday!! so, here it is your 10k long monster of a present because this girl cannot stfu. i love you and i hope you have the best birthday ever! for everyone else, you are obviously also allowed to enjoy this filthy peace of work! i would appreciate a reblog & comment as that makes my day <;3

Perhaps your ability to fake it was slowly becoming a problem. Fine, being an acting major and all, having even starred in a few theater productions it wasn’t exactly a surprise you were a good actor, but this extent even shocked you.You were at a restaurant with your friends, all of them drinking and having fun and while you at least acted like you had the same amount of fun, you knew well enough you weren’t. It wasn’t like your friends weren’t any fun, no, they were, but two of them in particular had you literally sweating bricks since the moment they had sat down.

In your time at SVT university, you had made a total of 13 friends. All of them boys, all of them already connected from before. The first one you had met was Mingyu, a tall, handsome fella who had adopted you on orientation night when you had struggled to finish all of the shots you and the other freshmen were supposed to drink. Back then you had been a lightweight but being friends with 13 maniacs (even though a couple of them didn’t drink alcohol) had shaped you into a whole new being. So, Mingyu had taken it upon himself to introduce you to his friends and soon enough you found yourself to be all of their little sister.

And for a while that was fine, you didn’t particularly care about them being good-looking or campus crushes, no, to you they were just the guys that had taken you in when you had no one on your side. Moving to the city on your own with no friends or family wasn’t easy, and these 13 idiots had somehow managed to make you feel right at home. They still made you feel at home when only half of you were still in Uni and the rest had graduated, gotten jobs, bought apartments. But as mentioned before it was only fine for a while. Because the more time you spent with them, all of you together or in smaller groups or individually, the more you noticed that two of them made it harder for you to just want to remain friends.

The restaurant wasn’t full, considering it was a Tuesday evening, but since your group was big enough, you were sure the owners would still consider this a successful evening, nonetheless. Right now, you were seated between Mingyu and Jihoon, the table in front of you filled with countless different types of food, your stomach full and your mind a little blurry from the soju you had already drank. You had started playing drinking games about an hour ago, going from wild to mild. At this point, you all had your fingers raised for a (not so) sweet round of “Never have I ever”.

“Okay, uhm, never have I ever…slept with two people in the same night!” Jun seemed extremely happy about his idea. Raising your brows, you watched how basically all of the 95ers, Soonyoung, Minghao and, surprisingly, Hansol, folded a finger.

“Hansolie?” You asked, a grin spreading on your face, and he shrugged as he looked over to you.

“Honestly, I don’t remember much about it, just that at 1am I met this girl, and we hooked up, I went to another club with her and ended up bringing another one home.”

“Ah, yes, I remember that,” Seokmin nodded, pointing at him with his index finger, “the first girl was pissed, but Chan took good care of her, didn’t you, Channie?”

Everyone laughed now, Chan’s cheeks bright red. Well, everyone but you. You just sat there, looking at Chan who was next to Seungkwan, who was also laughing. Suddenly you felt the need to be the first one to fold all fingers and drink your whole glass in one go.

It really wasn’t easy, you had figured out, having feelings for not just one, but two of your closest friends. To this day you hadn’t told a soul about it, and up to this point no one had noticed any changes in your behavior. That’s where the acting major came in handy. Clearing your throat, you put on a grimace.

“Yah, don’t talk about the girl like that, Seokmin oppa,” you scolded him and he put his hands together, bowing his head repeatedly as he continued to say “sorry, ma’am”. You scoffed and shook your head looking over at Jeonghan, who was next to Jun and had to say the next never have I ever.

“Never have I ever sucked a dick,” he said, smiling innocently. You took a deep breath and folded a finger. Hansol, Josh and Minghao followed.

“Look at that, our girl is finally having more than one finger down,” of course Jeonghan had targeted you, knowing he was going to take some of his boy-friends with him, but at least only those with at least seven fingers still up.

“Is that what we’re gonna do now?” You asked, shaking your hair so it would fall backwards from your shoulder and over your back.

“I just think we ask too many straight-male pointed questions. We should be more inclusive in this group!” Jeonghan smiled even wider, and you clicked your tongue, deciding not to answer him.

“Gonna be honest, I don’t even want to imagine Y/N sucking anyone off, like that’s our baby!” Mingyu said, arm now hanging over your chair. For fuck’s sake. You sighed, looking over at him.

“I’m not even a full year younger than Chan, you doofus.”

“At least call him doofus oppa, Y/N,” Cheol grinned, while Mingyu looked incredibly offended. You laughed and nudged Mingyu with your elbow before looking back at Jeonghan, who had a knowing grin on his face, a knowing grin that had you confused. Why did he grin like that?

“Me next!” Soonyoung stretched one arm into the air, his face red from the alcohol. You shook your head slightly, deciding to ignore Jeonghan and just hope whatever he had planned wouldn’t actually come true.

“Never have I ever had a crush on a close friend of mine!”

You felt your blood freeze. A crush on a close friend? Slowly, your eyes moved to Jeonghan, who, of course, was looking right at you. His finger stayed up.

You didn’t take notice of how Chan and Seungkwan folded their fingers.

Leaning back in your chair, you decided to lie. Who said you had to tell the truth here? Crossing your one leg over the other and grabbing a piece of kimchi with your chopsticks to shove it into your mouth, you were content with your choice. At least for approximately three seconds.

“Yah! Y/N, you need to drink!” Soonyoung pointed at you with the arm he had stretched out before, and you choked on the piece of kimchi.

The table seemed confused – or at least a part of it did. While you coughed and Mingyu hit your back repeatedly to help, his face in a frown at Soonyoung, everyone on Jeonghan’s left side seemed just as lost as you felt, while everyone on his right side up until Joshua seemed as if they were more annoyed at Soonyoung. Jihoon, next to you, looked just as confused.

“Excuse me?” You croaked out now, reaching for your water glass, and taking a big sip.

“Ah, common, we have it figured out! You have a crush on Mingyu!”

And the water landed right on your food, spat out of your mouth.

“She- what?!” Mingyu’s eyes widened, while you tried to recover from your earlier coughing fit as well as the one that was now shaking you.

“Hyung, common! We wanted to get it out of her slowly!” Seokmin complained and Soonyoung sighed.

“Do you even know how much we drank? If we do any more shots, we will all die, Seokmin-ah!”

“I do- I do not have a crush on Mingyu!” you finally managed to say, a napkin in your balled fist, “what makes you think I do?!”

Now, everyone looked at you, including Jeonghan who raised his brows.

“You don’t?” He asked, obviously not believing you. You scoffed.

“No, I don’t. And now tell me why you would even think so?”

Jeonghan shifted on his seat, and you were slightly uncomfortable with all the eyes on you – especially Chan’s and Seungkwan’s. How on earth had Jeonghan gotten this so wrong?

“Well, uh, I overheard a conversation you had the other day. With one of your friends? Yuri, I believe?”

You began to wreck your brain. A conversation you had had with Yuri? You remembered talking to her the other day, remembered that she had asked you something and-

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, pulling a hand through your hair, “I don’t have a crush on him, she does!”

And scene. The silence was louder than words. Then – laughter. Everyone but Jeonghan, who’s mouth was now shaped like an “o”, laughed loudly, Jun placing his hand on Jeonghan’s shoulder.

“Yah, hyung, how bad are you at eavesdropping, hm?” The older guy didn’t say anything, he just continued to stare at you. You shook your head, a grin spreading on your lips.

“Feels bad to be embarrassed like this, huh? And to think you wanted to do that to me, oppa. Seriously, me liking Mingyu? You couldn’t have gotten it more wrong.” Pause. You noticed it just around the same time as everyone else. The laughter died down and made room for curious eyebrow raises. Shit.

“So, you’re saying there is someone you like?” Jeonghan was right back in his element, the annoying smirk back on his lips and, god, did you want to punch it off right then and there. Maybe even take some off the leftover perilla leaves and stuff them in his mouth.

All eyes were on you now. Clicking your tongue, you leaned forward.

“Did you really think you’d just get me to confess potential feelings to one of you right now?” You looked straight at Jeonghan, who shrugged with an innocent grin.

“If we got you drunk enough, why not?” Oh, he was such a menace. Did he really think you were this stupid? You scoffed and leaned back, arms crossed.

“Even if I would allow myself to get super drunk, never would I ever tell you anything. At least not with all of us together.”

“So, you’re saying there is someone you have a crush on?” Mingyu now chimed in, basically asking the same question as Jeonghan had before. You closed your eyes momentarily, contemplating how on earth you could still make these mistakes when you had literally been living with these crushes for ages and nothing had ever slipped out. Perhaps it was the alcohol. And the fact that both Seungkwan and Chan just looked way too good tonight.

You had watched them both to the best of your abilities, trying not to get caught (and apparently you hadn’t, considering everyone thought you had a crush on Mingyu). Seungkwan had been in a bit of a mood when he had arrived, and for some reason his slight annoyance made you want to jump his bones right then and there. That mixed with the way he drowned shots, his pretty fingers around the glass, almost flipping the glass over but skilfully stopping it at the last second. Even though you didn’t understand why… it was insanely attractive. His black polo and sweats, the way his brown hair fell into his face. All about him had you in a chokehold. It was basically the same with Chan. Sporting a zip up hoodie and jeans, a black t-shirt underneath, smiling and laughing loudly along when anyone made a joke. These two were in some ways complete opposites and still fell in perfectly together. As much as they often pretended to despise one another, it was safe to say they were actually the best of friends, inseparable. Perhaps that was why you hadn’t just fallen for one of them, but both.

Sitting at the table now, with your friends all quieter than you had ever seen them, you decided that it was time to get this over with. Sighing, you waved the waiter over, who you then proceeded to ask for a pen and paper, all whilst the 13 guys surrounding you looked more than just a little confused.

“What exactly are you doing?” Wonwoo asked now, his eyebrows raised just like the rest of them. Instead of answering you thanked the waiter when he brought you your desired items and slid closer to the table with your chair.

“Since you are all so curious, why don’t we end this once and for all, hm? I’m going to put an X on one of these papers and hand them out to you. If you’re getting the X, and you are interested in me as well, you can come over to my place tomorrow at 8. If you don’t have time, make it,” you were ripping apart the paper until you had 13 almost identical pieces, acting like you were writing on every single one of them (your hand shielding you) and finally folding them together. The boys stared at you with their mouths dropped.

“If you’re not interested, just forget it happened, alright? First and foremost we are friends, and I don’t want that to change, got it?” Now, you got up from your chair, all the small pieces in your hand. You knew which ones held the X’s, ready to give them to Seungkwan and Chan when you reached them, not really able to stop your heart from racing. As you started handing them out, you cleared your throat.

“Oh, and don’t open them now. Open them later, okay? I don’t want this to get any more awkward.”

When you finally reached the two men of your desire, you managed to stay calm just like before. You had successfully convinced yourself that this was just another performance of yours; the boys were your audience and you were inviting them to perform with you, they were a pawn in your game, a piece of your art. Thinking like this made it easy to not be embarrassed and worried about the outcome of this little play. It helped you discard the thought of Seungkwan and Chan going home to their shared apartment later, of them opening the papers either together or alone and then seeing an X, most probably going to tell the other. And just like that they would know that you liked them both.

Sitting back down once everyone had received their papers, you grabbed your shot glass.

“Now that that’s done. Shall we continue?”

–

Living together had never been more nerve wracking than right now. Seungkwan and Chan sat in the taxi, both quiet, the papers you had given out heavy in their pockets. Neither of them had said a word, mostly because they wouldn’t even know what to say. It had been a while since they had found out they liked the same person - namely the girl that had just given out papers that would either have one of them feel the luckiest he had ever been and one shattered, or both just disappointed, but at least disappointed together. They hadn’t even thought about the third option.

Arriving at their shared place, the door falling closed behind them, the two kicked off their shoes and slowly made their way into the living space, a relatively big room with a couch and a TV, a small dining table and finally the open kitchen with an island that they used way more frequently than the table. Without exchanging words they sat down on two stools, their hearts racing as they put their respective papers on the island.

“Who goes first?” Chan asked, hands clasped together on top of the island. Seungkwan gulped.

“Together?” He suggested then and Chan nodded, his sweaty hands letting go of each other to reach for the tiny thing holding so much power. Seungkwan did the same, his throat dry and an unwelcome feeling in his stomach. In his mind it was either neither of them or Chan. Everyone loved Chan, girls loved Chan. He was charming and handsome and some even called him pretty. He was funny and kind, he had an incredible build and his dancing abilities were to die for. Seungkwan, on the other hand, wasn’t exactly popular with the ladies, at least not in the way Chan was. Yes, he was popular because he was funny and outgoing, because he always knew how to make a room laugh and how to present himself as the goofy friend. He had had one girlfriend all his life and that was about all the experience he had. He didn’t even know where to start with Chan.

“Alright then. On three?” Chan looked over at his best friend, who nodded slightly. He could literally see the sweat forming on Seungkwan’s forehead, could hear the speed of his heartbeat. While Chan wished for it to be himself, of course, he also kind of wished it would be Seungkwan you liked. He knew he wasn’t going to be mad at his best friend if he was the one you wanted. More so the opposite. Smiling at him now, Chan leaned over, his elbow softly nudging him in the side.

“Hyung, it’s gonna be fine, okay? Whatever the outcome, we will be fine.” The words touched Seungkwan more than they probably should and somehow he managed an honest smile before taking a deep breath.

“Okay. One.”

“Two.”

“Three!” The two of them said the last number in union, opening the papers at the same time, only to suck in their breaths. Two perfectly written Xs were right there in front of them. For the first few seconds they only stared at the paper, both of their hearts leaping out of their chests, their stomachs doing flips, butterflies spreading throughout every inch of their body. But then they realized what they were seeing, their heads almost simultaneously twirling around to look at the other. When neither of them saw disappointment, they felt confusion. When they looked at the other’s paper, they felt even more confusion.

The next hour was spent calling the 11 other friends that had been at the restaurant receiving a paper.

The hours after that were spent on Seungkwan’s bed, staring at the ceiling in their pjs.

“So,” Chan said after what felt like an eternity of silence.

“So,” Seungkwan replied.

“She likes both of us.” Hearing the words out loud made them seem sillier. Unreal, as well.

“Apparently,” Seungkwan shifted on his back, hands clasped and laid on his stomach, “what do we- what do we do?”

“I guess we’ll go to her place tomorrow.”

“Both of us?”

“She said whoever has an X on their paper is invited over at 8pm, hyung. So yes. Both of us.”

“And then what?”

Chan stayed silent at that once again. Yeah, then what? Gnawing on his bottom lip, he let the thought run through his mind. If you liked both of them, it could mean two things. One, you would want to choose eventually which one you liked better. But this seemed unlikely. You weren’t an indecisive person, they knew that. They knew you. So, option two seemed more realistic, while it also remained the somehow scarier one.

“I think,” Chan started, turning his head to face Seungkwan who was still staring ahead, “I think she wants us both. As in, she wants to date us both.”

Now, Seungkwan looked over at him.

“You really think so?”

“The other option just seems so unlike her. I think she has made her mind up about it and that’s why she even did this tonight. Yeah, she was kind of blindsided because Jeonghan hyung was being his same old enabler self, but… she wouldn’t have told us if she wasn’t ready to… you know. Commit to this.”

“And do you want to commit to this?” Seungkwan asked, wondering what Chan would answer. He was also wondering what he himself would answer.

“I don’t know. I think… I think I like her a lot, hyung. Like a whole damn lot. And I know you do too. You’re my best friend and I don’t- I don’t know how to explain this, but I feel like, if it’s with you I would be able to… do this.”

Surprise was displayed on the older boy’s face and he slowly sat up, Chan following his movement.

“So you’re saying that… if she wants both of us to be her boyfriends, you would be cool with that?”

“Yeah. I think so,” Chan hesitated a moment, “what about you?”

And there the question was. Laid out in front of Seungkwan, who had no idea what to say. Yes, he liked you. He liked you so, so much. But could he be in a poly relationship with you and his best friend? Could he- suddenly, the thought of Chan with you invaded his mind. You on top of Chan, kissing him, Chan’s hands all over your body, touching your skin. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to watch you, to hear you moan as Chan was kissing you, his hands somewhere between your legs…

“I think I would be too,” he breathed out now, his cheeks a little red and Chan looked at him attentively. Something in Seungkwan’s face, in his voice, had piqued his interest. He tilted his head, curiosity getting the best of him.

“What did you just think about?” He asked, not entirely sure why he was this intrigued.

“I-,” Seungkwan noticed the glint in Chan’s eyes, noticed the obvious curiosity and felt excitement rush over him. Clearing his throat, he laid back down on his back, Chan’s eyes on him at all times.

“I thought about what she would look like on top of you,” Seungkwan finally explained, not looking at his friend but instead back at the ceiling. His blood was rushing through his ears and down to his cock that slowly but surely grew in size. Chan stared at him, not sure what he had expected to hear and while a part of him had known it was something sexual, hearing it from Seungkwan himself made goosebumps erupt all over his skin.

When Chan didn’t say anything, Seungkwan continued.

“I thought about what she would sound like, what her moans would sound like when you touch her,” he licked his lips, the image back and so clear in front of his eyes. Now, Chan also laid down next to him, eyes fixed on a spot above them.

“I can see that, too, you know. Her on top of you. Her hips grinding down because she is so desperate for friction. She always seems so confident and in control, but I think when she’s horny she doesn’t have any of that control left.”

“Yeah, and she would.. she would be begging for us to touch her, to-,”

“To fuck her,” Chan finished the sentence for Seungkwan, who now felt his dick reach the ultimate hardness.

“Y-yeah,” Seungkwan stuttered, head dizzy, thoughts full of you and Chan and himself, in between the sheets, your wet and throbbing pussy around his size while you had your mouth on Chan’s hard cock. He had seen Chan naked more times than not, but none of these times had he been hard and for whatever reason, right now, he wished he had.

“Shit, I can totally see her, whiny and pouting, wanting all her holes stuffed with cocks, our cocks. She would suck on them so prettily, get her whole mouth full, wanting to touch herself but we wouldn’t let her, instead you’d go down on her, lick up her pussy and she’d moan around my cock, making me slip down further. Fuck, I bet she can take cock down all the way, I could feel it when i press down on her throat.”

Seungkwan had given up midway through Chan’s words. His hand was now down his pants, palming himself over his briefs, eyes closed as he listened to Chan’s voice. All the images of you were flooding his mind, making his hips move against his hand in a desperate attempt for even more friction.

Chan noticed Seungkwan then. Heard the noises his best friend made, his skin slightly beginning to tingle. Swallowing down the phantom lump in his throat, he let his own hand slip into his sweats, feeling his hard cock against the palm of his hand. Precum had already stained his briefs and he imagined you on your knees, sucking on his tip, catching the drips of his arousal.

“Do you think she’d let us fuck her tomorrow?” Seungkwan asked then, out of breath and his hand now fully around his clothed cock. Chan groaned at the question.

“God, I sure hope she does. Maybe on her couch? Sitting on my lap, riding me and you can fuck her sweet little mouth.”

“Fuck, bet she looks so pretty with her lips spread around our cocks,” both of them now slipped their hands fully into their underwear, the precum making it easy for them to jerk off. This had never happened before. Neither of them had ever just masturbated with a friend present. But this situation was oddly erotic and almost felt natural. Hearing each other breath hard, the slick of their wet dicks against their hands, the shifting of the duvet underneath them, as they arched their backs, fucking into their fists.

“Wanna see her tits full of our cum, fuck,” Chan bit down on his lip, hand speeding up and Seungkwan nodded harshly, vivid images of you naked and sprawled on his bed, cum decorating your body. In his head you would look at them with big, round eyes, fingers dipping into the white cream, sucking it off right after. He wondered if you liked to swallow cum, if you liked having it all over you. A part of him believed that you did.

“S-Shit, Y/N,” Seungkwan moaned finally, his orgasm hitting him just then, only a few seconds before Chan was hit by his own, cum shooting out and into his underwear. The two men moaned your name, fucking themselves through their orgasms before coming down from their highs, hands still around their softening cocks, chests heaving.

Without saying anything, Chan got up first to go to the bathroom and clean himself up, the post-nut clarity giving himself a bit of a freakout. Seungkwan felt the same as he stood up as well, heart pumping in his chest at godspeed, his now dirty briefs finding their way into his dirty laundry basket and a new pair found its way onto his body. Also slipping into a new pair of sweats, Seungkwan turned around when he heard the ajar door opening wider. Chan stood there, a new pair of underwear and pants on his frame.

“Can I sleep here?” Chan asked then. Seungkwan didn’t have to think twice before he nodded.

–

7:45 pm the next day and you had prepared yourself as well as your apartment for either success or failure. Right now, you had dimly lit your living area, candles on top of the couch table with three plates and sets of chopsticks, the Chinese take-out you knew Seungkwan and Chan liked so much stored in the microwave. You had no idea if they were coming. You were just hoping they would. The closer it got to 8 pm, the more your stomach turned in fear and excitement. You had put on what you would consider your sexiest outfit; a dark green bodycon dress that reached down to the middle of your thighs. A bit of silver jewelry and your hair in the way you usually liked it - you were more than content with yourself for the evening.

There is still a chance they won’t even show up.

Biting down on your painted lips, you let your eyes wander off to the clock by the door. 7:57 pm. Trying to make yourself calm down, you poured wine into one of the glasses standing on the table, drowning it in one go. While liquid courage might not have been the best solution - it still was one. Putting the glass back down, you almost dropped it to the floor when you heard your doorbell ring. Instantly, your heart began racing, eyes close to popping out as you hurried over to the door. Buzzing them up, you began one of your breathing exercises that you would usually do before going on stage. This wasn’t much different from stage fright- just that it was real and you wouldn’t have the chance to do it better the next night. No, this was it, this was the moment you had been hoping for, dreaming of.

The knock on your door brought you back to the here and now and after shaking out your shoulders one last time, you finally opened the door.

Nothing could have prepared the three of you for the feelings flooding you the moment the door was open, leaving nothing between you anymore. Seungkwan and Chan held their breaths once their eyes laid on you. The way you looked in your dress, showing off every single one of your curves. Knowing full well that you put on this dress for them made both of them feel their throats dry up. For a moment they were one, Chan and Seungkwan, their hearts beating the same beat only for you. Right then, it was only them and you on this earth and they were sure to make you feel just how much you meant to them.

And you? You couldn’t believe they were really here, both of them. Dressed in similar outfits, Chan wore a white dress shirt under a black jacket, while Seungkwan was dressed in all black. They looked incredible.

“You’re here,” you finally breathed out and the boys nodded, their eyes never leaving you.

“Of course,” Chan replied, a small smile playing on his lips making your knees weak.

“I’m glad. Come on in,” You took a step to the side, watching them as they walked inside your apartment. They had been here many times before, but nothing had ever felt like this. Already now did you feel goosebumps all over you, feel the urge to touch them, kiss them. All the things you had successfully suppressed over the time you had liked them were coming up at once, knocking the air right out of you.

After leaving their shoes at the door, the two of them followed you inside, their eyes slightly widening when they saw what you had prepared. The candles and the dim lights. The prettily set couch table.

“I ordered Chinese. Your favorite, I, uh, hope that’s okay,” you smiled, walking into the kitchen where you got the food containers out of the microwave, happy that they still seemed warm. Chan and Kwan watched you, both of them smiling warmly.

“That’s perfect, thanks Y/N,” Kwan said, taking the food from your hands to bring them over to the table. Feeling your cheeks warm up, you thanked him and finally you and Chan followed him over to the table where you finally sat down.

The nervosity clearly flowing around the table wasn’t too bad, you thought, but you did want to somehow ease the situation. Clearing your throat you poured both of them a glass of wine, sitting at the head of the table and the two men to your left and right. Their eyes on you made all of you tingle.

“Thanks,” they hummed when they took their glasses and you finally all had something to drink.

“Well, here is to tonight,” your voice was thankfully way more confident than you felt. Clinking your glasses you all took a sip from the red liquid, feeling the warmth of the alcohol joining the warmth of the situation. Chan and Seungkwan exchanged a look before letting their eyes linger on you again.

“So, you’re probably wondering what this,” you used your hands to make a circle between you and them, “is about?”

“We did come up with two possible options,” Chan nodded and you looked over at him.

“Okay.” God, how on earth were you supposed to play it cool when he looked at you this way? Chan was always handsome, but tonight was different somehow. His white button down wasn’t fully buttoned, very obviously showing the necklace he was wearing, silver and sexy and your absolute weakness. His hair was styled up, only a few strands falling into his face and, shit, did he look delicious.

“One of them was that you would tell one of us to leave at the end of the night,” he continued, watching you closely. You had already anticipated that this was the first thing they’d come up with. Society’s take on polygamy and all. Slowly, you nodded, wanting him to keep talking.

“The second one,” Seungkwan now chimed in, your head turning to him. He was also a sight to behold. Brown hair falling into his forehead as it always did. Pretty rings on his just as pretty fingers catching the light of the candles.

“Was you wanting both of us.”

Your stomach turned, the tone of his voice going straight between your legs. Gulping down, you nodded again.

“I see. Well, which one do you think is more likely?”

“The second one,” Chan answered immediately, Seungkwan nodding in agreement. If you were honest, this had been the thing you had been scared of the most. Them finding out you wanted both of them and feeling appalled by it. But judging by their reaction right now… it didn’t seem like they were.

“And you’re okay with that?” You asked cautiously and they chuckled, both of them shuffling closer to you. It was almost as if the whole room suddenly shifted. Your breath hitched when you felt their body heat in such close proximity.

“Very much,” Chan said, his hand softly caressing your cheek.

“More than okay, actually,” Seungkwan added, his lips right by your ear. Your core began throbbing, wetness gathering at your entrance, dripping out of you when you saw the way they both looked at you. Full of hunger, want, lust.

“I- I’m happy to hear that,” you whispered and then, without another moment going to waste, Chan kissed you softly. His lips tasted like wine and like him, and when he parted your lips, his tongue knocking into yours, all of you began to tremble. Seungkwan took it upon himself to shower your exposed neck with sensual kisses, his one hand finding your bare thigh and squeezing the flesh. You moaned into Chan’s mouth, feeling the older male’s hand on the other side of your neck.

Sure, you had thought that maybe at some point, if the two of them agreed to this, it would come to sex. Never had you expected it to go this way, them on you not even five minutes after they had set foot into your apartment. Not that you were complaining. Trying to figure out what to do with your hands you put one on Chan’s cheek, while the other laid down on Seungkwan’s resting on your leg, your lips moving against Chan’s in perfect rhythm.

When Chan parted from you, you turned your head, facing Seungkwan now who’s eyes seemed to sparkle when your gazes met, a small smile on both of your lips before you leaned in. Seungkwan tasted like wine as well, but different from Chan. They both had tastes that you could only describe as addictive, your hands now moving and finding themselves on Seungkwan’s chest and Chan’s neck, Chan who now took it upon himself to take over Seungkwan’s earlier mission. The kisses he left all over your neck and shoulders made you shiver and he chuckled against your skin, the vibrations making you moan again, this time into Seungkwan’s mouth.

“Perhaps we should move this somewhere else,” Chan suggested and Seungkwan parted from you, your eyes shifting between them.

“W-What about the food?” You croaked, Chan smirking as his thumb slid over your bottom lip.

“You have a microwave right? We can heat that up… later.”

–

You wouldn’t say that you lacked sexual experience. But then again you had never had a threesome before and up until you had started liking two of your closest friends, you had never thought you wanted one either.

Chan was behind you, his hands on the zipper of your favorite dress, slowly tugging it down. Seungkwan was in front of you, his hands on your cheeks as he kissed you passionately, your tongues in a heated dance, lips moving together as if they had never done anything else. How wonderful it was, both of them being good kissers. You loved kissing, but it happened more often than not that partners of yours just didn’t really know how to. Seungkwan and Chan, though, definitely took the cake. Sliding the dress off your body, Chan began to fondle your exposed skin, fingertips dancing over your skin, making goosebumps erupt once more. He let his mouth draw lines over your shoulder blades and the back of your neck, letting his tongue flick against your sensitive skin. You wanted to touch them both, wanted to feel them, find out everything there was to know about what they liked.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” Chan whispered against your ear, his teeth finding your lobe and biting down on it, a whimper escaping you that had Seungkwan’s hands move down to your hips, gripping you tightly.

“Fuck, do that again, Channie,” he sighed and Chan did as asked, another whimper making both of their dicks twitch.

“So, so hot,” Chan brought his nimble fingers to the clasp of your bra, opening it without any trouble and soon you found yourself mostly naked - with the exception of your thong. Now, Chan’s hands moved over your stomach and up to your breasts, squeezing them, massaging them, thumb and index around your stiff nipples, your back arching against Seungkwan who still kissed you with so much fire it made you almost lose your footing. Being sandwiched in between them was better than anything you had ever experienced before, and when you thought about their cocks and how they would feel inside you, you couldn't help but grind your ass against Chan’s crotch.

“Oh? Are you needy, baby?” Chan teased, biting into your shoulder before sucking and leaving a perfectly red mark right there.

“Mhm, w-want you to get undressed too, ‘s unfair,” you whined, and Seungkwan looked at Chan over your shoulder, both of them wearing a smirk that definitely meant trouble.

“Is that right?” Seungkwan caressed the back of your head now, soft fingers through your hair and you nodded, a pout on your pretty lips.

“Well, who would we be to deny your wish?” Turning you around by the shoulders, Chan proceeded to push you down on your knees, your eyes widening when you felt the carpet hit your naked legs. Above you, the two men now began unbuttoning their shirts, their eyes never leaving you, and once they were done the pieces of clothing landed on the floor next to your dress and bra. You couldn’t stop staring at them. Both of them were extremely well built, even if Seungkwan didn’t really think so about himself. While Chan sported more muscle, Seungkwan’s body had something elegant, his shoulders wide, his neck probably the prettiest thing about him. Your eyes wandered over their abs, Chan’s maybe a bit more defined than Kwan’s, mouth watering when you saw their happy trails leading to what you could only presume to be the prettiest dicks you’d ever see.

“Be a good girl and help us with our pants, Y/N,” Chan said, and only now did you realize that he would be the one fully in charge. Your pussy throbbed at the thought and you nodded obediently, hands lifting to first open Chan’s trousers, button, then zipper shoving them down his lean legs, his thighs that made you clench around nothing. You looked up at him, saw the hunger in his eyes and bit your lip, not allowing yourself to let your eyes linger too long on his very obvious erection. Instead, you moved on to Seungkwan, doing the same as with Chan, just that this time you couldn’t help it. Seungkwan’s cock was big. Bigger than you had imagined. Your mouth dropped open and you were sure you were about to drool. Meanwhile, the two watched you, Seungkwan feeling his whole body grow hot when he saw the way you looked at his cock. He knew he was big, probably bigger than most of his peers, but he never really talked or felt like bragging about it. So, of course you’d be surprised. Chan, on the other side, smirked, seeing you in this state was incredibly hot and he snapped his finger once, making your head turn to him in an instant.

“Like Seungkwannie’s cock? How about you let it fuck your pretty mouth?”

Judging by the way Seungkwan twitched at Chan’s words, at least he was happy with that suggestion. But, so were you. Nodding your head, you looked back at Seungkwan, who inhaled sharply, his hands now tugging down his briefs exposing his hard, huge, leaking cock.

“Oh my god, Seungkwannie… s-so big,” you mumbled, your tongue shooting out to collect the precum that was pooling at his slit. He moaned slightly, finding the back of your head with his left hand.

“Slowly, babe. We don’t want you suffocating,” he smiled and you shivered, leaning forward to finally catch him between your lips. Hell, was it better than either of your imaginations. You, on your knees, lips stretched out around Kwan’s cock. Chan felt himself twitch, moving behind you, exchanging a look with Seungkwan.

“Good girl, so good for us,” Chan praised you now, when you took even more of Seungkwan into your mouth. The older of the two men couldn’t help but let out breathy moans that spurred you on even more, the determination to get him completely down your throat bigger than ever. And then you felt it. Felt Chan’s hands on either side of your head, shoving you forward. He was moving your head to match Seungkwan’s pleasure. Fuck, that was hot. You couldn’t keep your eyes open, instead they rolled back, and Seungkwan watched you with his own mouth dropped, before he slowly looked up at Chan who’s eyes were locked on the way his best friend’s dick was sliding in and out of your throat. You felt Seungkwan twitch on your tongue, his tip now repeatedly hitting the back of your throat, gags erupting your body as well as chokes that made both men feel even more feral than before.

Chan began moving you down Seungkwan’s cock quicker now, Seungkwan sure he wasn’t going to last long anymore, but a part of him didn’t really mind. He knew he was probably going to watch Chan fuck you and, fuck, was he excited to see that. Moaning your name, he grabbed some of your hair, pulling on it as he couldn’t help but buckle his hips. Tears were streaming down your face, but nothing about this was unenjoyable. Every thrust of Seungkwan’s hips combined with Chan’s pushing of your head was everything you had hoped for and more. Your core was dripping at this point, the thong useless, arousal dripping down onto the carpet and if you had been in any other headspace you might have begun asking yourself how you were gonna get that out. “F-fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Seungkwan cried out, his hips moving at a sloppier pace now and you groaned, excitement flowing through you.

“Do you want Seungkwan to cum in your mouth, baby? Or should he come somewhere else?” Chan pulled you off Seungkwan’s cock, you finally able to catch your breath, chest heaving and your eyes blinking rapidly.

“W-wanna eat his cum, can I?”

“God, yes, yes you can,” Seungkwan slipped into your mouth again and Chan smirked as he now let his best friend take the lead and instead sat down on the bed, palming himself over his briefs watching Seungkwan fuck down your throat desperately. You held onto his thighs, eyes rolled back again, hearing yourself gag over and over again mixed with the dirty sound of his slick cock inside your hot mouth making it hard for you not to just come untouched.

“You take my cock so well, such a good girl, so perfect for my big cock,” Seungkwan whined, and you nodded as well as you could with him rutting down your throat. When you pressed your tongue against his girth, sliding along his veins, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He moaned your name once more, pushing your head as close to his abdomen as possible, his hot thick cum shooting down your throat. You tried your best to swallow it all, but some escaped your mouth when he finally pulled out, his eyes unfocused by the strength of that orgasm.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Look at who made a mess,” Chan titled his head looking at you and you let your fingers slide over your chin where traces of Seungkwan were still present, sucking them into your mouth.

“Seungkwannie is so tasty,” you giggled then, eyes wandering from Chan back to the man who had just fucked the life out of your mouth. His spent cock twitched at your words and he caressed your face, before helping you back on your feet, his lips catching yours, leading you into a soft kiss that made another set of butterflies go crazy inside your stomach.

Fondness engulfed Chan now, who still sat on the bed. He really hadn’t thought this was possible, but sometimes life took a turn no one could have predicted. Him being happy about his best friend kissing the girl he liked. Him being hard as a rock from watching his bist friend fuck your mouth. Now, he felt immense proudness somehow, proud that apparently all of you were mature enough to not be jealous or possessive - even though he wasn’t so sure how he’d feel if anyone else joined or had you. Maybe it was just him and Seungkwan he liked around you in this way.

“Come here,” he now said and you and Seungkwan parted, you now walking over to Chan, while Seungkwan took a seat on the bed as well, resting against the headboard. You came to a halt in front of the pretty man and his hands found their way to your waist, right above the waistband of your drenched thong. Licking his hips, he pulled you closer.

“We should get rid of this, shouldn’t we?” he asked, but it was rhetorical. The next second he had already begun shoving it down, a shiver going through you when your wet cunt hit the air of the room. You stepped out of the underwear and Chan pulled you even closer, his breath fanning over your stomach. Your eyes never left his, feeling his fingers glide upwards again, his right hand moving between your thighs and getting a breathy gasp out of you when his fingertips touched your pussy.

“Fuck, she’s so, so wet, Seungkwan,” Chan let a film of your arousal coat his fingers before letting his left hand move up even further until it was on your right tit, squeezing it harshly.

“Ch-Chan, pl-please,” your knees almost gave in and Chan chuckled, one finger skillfully sinking into you and making you cry out.

“What is it, baby? Do you want me to finger your sweet little pussy?” He asked as he was already doing just that. His finger slipped in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace and you had trouble holding still, your hands now resting on Chan’s shoulders, teeth buried in your bottom lip, hips moving against his hand.

“M-More, I can take it, Channie.”

“Oh, I bet you can, princess. Not yet, though,” Chan smirked again, before quickening his pace, thumb now pressing onto your clit. You moaned loudly, eyes falling shut. You didn’t know how he did it, but you already felt like cumming. Your walls clenched around his one single digit and he sucked in a breath when he felt it, felt the throbbing inside of you.

“Fuck, you’re already close, aren’t you a little slut…,” he mumbled, staring at your pussy, the wetness of his finger and just you. How was he ever going to get enough?

Seungkwan was still sitting behind Chan, not able to see the way he fingered you, but just your face alone was enough to start his dick getting hard again. He was lazily jerking himself off, watching the way your face contorted in pleasure. He probably wouldn’t need much more to cum again, just this would be enough.

“Mhmm, Ch-Channie pl-please, m-more,” you begged again and Chan felt his cock twitch, not sure how long he could resist giving in to you. For now, he just let his thumb draw circles on your clit, pressing down on it harshly as he let his finger slide in and out. And then, suddenly, his thumb was gone and you were about to protest, when it was replaced by something better.

His tongue leaped at your clit, flicking at it over and over again before sucking it into his mouth, the high pitched moan you let out music to his ears and his cock, Seungkwan behind him cursing under his breath. Chan couldn’t help himself. He wanted to taste you so fucking bad. Not really knowing what he was doing, he pulled his finger out of you and instead brought both his hands to your hips, turning you around and throwing you on the bed, he himself now on his knees, tongue in between your thighs.

“F-fuck, Chan!” You screamed, hands finding his hair, back arching against his mouth. He devoured you. Sucking your clit into his mouth first, moving down to your sopping entrance next, tongue fucking you, thumb back to his earlier ministrations. You couldn’t keep it down, he was too good at this, too good at making you feel like you were going to cum in the next three seconds.

Seungkwan somehow got fully hard again, his hand wrapped around his length, moving up and down as he stared at Chan between your legs, sweat on his forehead.

“Does he make you feel good, Y/N? You like Channie eating you out like this?” He breathed out and you nodded, your eyes flying open to look at Seungkwan, clenching around Chan’s tongue when you saw Seungkwan jerking off.

“Yo-You’re hard again, Kwannie,” you groaned and he nodded.

“How could I not be? Look at you baby, you’re a fucking sight to behold.”

Just then you felt Chan’s tongue back on your clit, two fingers pushing into you next and a scream left you, nails digging into Chan’s scalp, hips moving rapidly against his face and fingers, the man between your legs enjoying every second of it. He put his all into making you cum, fingers curling, hitting your spot, tongue circling your clit, pressing down on it and sucking it into his mouth again, drowning in your taste and smell, his free hand inside his briefs now, fucking his cock into his fist.

“‘M gonna c-cum, Chan, d-don’t stop!” He wasn’t going to. If anything he was just going to keep going to make you cum again. When your first orgasm hit you, you kept on chanting Chan’s name, your hips uncontrollably moving against his face, pussy throbbing around his fingers. When he didn’t stop after your high was over you felt yourself fall, your back lifting off the bed, seeing black and white in front of your eyes when he somehow got another orgasm out of you mere seconds after the first one.

Finally, Chan parted from you, his face full of your arousal, a smirk on his lips as he climbed on top of the bed, his briefs discarded on the floor. You were out of breath, feeling fucked out already. You weren’t willing to stop just yet though.

“Came so good for us, baby. So pretty and perfect,” Chan kissed your neck and finally your lips, your own taste spreading in your mouth. Hazily opening your eyes when he parted from you, you felt new energy sweep into you the second you saw what he did next. He moved to Seungkwan, the fingers that had been inside of you right in front of the older male’s mouth.

“Wanna taste her?” Chan asked, and Seungkwan nodded quickly, sucking Chan’s fingers into his mouth. Your pussy clenched, another set of arousal dropping onto the bed.

“Oh wow,” you breathed out, sitting up and watching how Seungkwan’s eyes rolled back at your taste, Chan so incredibly hard, cock twitching at the way it felt to have Seungkwan suck on his fingers. You were on your knees now, hands on Chan’s shoulders, lips attaching to his neck, sucking harshly on the skin. Moving down, you let your right hand grab around him, precum making it so easy for you to begin to jerk off his pretty cock. Chan moaned, pulling his fingers out of Seungkwan’s mouth only to grab him by the neck and crash their lips together, making you basically rub yourself against Chan’s backside. Fuck, it was so hot to watch them kiss, to watch how Seungkwan’s tongue twirle around Chan’s getting even more of your taste into his own mouth.

Kissing Seungkwan was better than Chan had imagined. But then, he had never really imagined it before. And perhaps he would never do it outside the bedroom - but that was a thought for another day. Right now he just knew he enjoyed it, enjoyed Seungkwan’s tongue against his own, liked the way he tasted of wine and now of you. When they parted from each other, saliva was connecting their lips and their hooded eyes were staring into each other. You, behind Chan, were groaning, biting into Chan’s shoulder slightly.

“That was so hot, fuck, I need you both to fuck me like right now.”

Chan and Seungkwan looked back at you.

“How do you want us?” Chan asked, thumb sliding over your bottom lip.

“One in the front, the other in the back. I have lube in my nightstand.”

Holy fuck. Seungkwan and Chan groaned, and before you knew what was happening they had you in between them again, Seungkwan kissing you hard on the lips while Chan licked and sucked and kissed your neck, every bit of skin he could catch. You moaned against them, hands finding their cocks and beginning to jerk them both off at the same speed. The two men breathed hard, hands roaming over your body, one hand each on your tits, while the other was either in your hair or your ass. At this point you couldn’t even tell which hand belonged to whom, the horny daze in your brain too much. But you needed them, you needed them to fill you up, needed their cocks to fuck you hard and until you couldn’t walk properly anymore.

Eventually you ended up on all fours, Seungkwan behind you, lube in his hand, and he couldn't stop staring at your pretty backside. He squeezed lube onto his finger and onto your tight hole, beginning to prep you slowly. Feeling his finger enter you hurt only a bit at the beginning, but he was so careful and soft it made it almost impossible not to enjoy. And with Chan kneeling in front of you, his cock in his hand, you felt like nothing could go wrong that night.

“Wanna suck your cock, Channie,” you blinked up at him and the boy smiled, bringing his member to your lips.

“Stick out your tongue,” he commanded and you did it, his cock slapping down on your tongue a few times right then. You moaned, clenching around nothing as Seungkwan eased into your ass easier with you getting more relaxed.

“Good girl. Now, suck on my tip, no tongue,” again you followed his order, sucking his tip into your mouth, your tongue so eager to touch him, taste him, but you wanted to be obedient and so you only watched him, tongue resting inside your mouth. Chan’s breathing was getting harder, his vision blurry. God, you looked so good, your lips stretched around his cock.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he finally gave in, shoving his cock further inside your mouth, moaning loudly when he felt your tongue press against him, when he felt your throat restrict around him. He began fucking your mouth, changing the angle so he is inside your cheek, fucking against it over and over, the soft inside of it making stars appear around his head.

Meanwhile, Seungkwan had managed to get another finger inside you, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure and just the thought of Seungkwan’s big cock filling your hole in a bit making your head feel dizzy.

Chan knew he wouldn’t last any longer with how good it felt to be inside your mouth, pulling out to instead hold his cock by the base, staring down at you.

“Such a perfect slut for us, I can’t believe we’re this lucky,” he mumbled, his fingers caressing your cheek before checking in with Seungkwan, who nodded.

“I think she’s ready. What do you say, pretty baby?”

“Am ready. Need you so bad,” you wiggled your hips and Seungkwan chuckled before grabbing a condom and giving another one to Chan. You pouted a little - part of you wished they would just fuck you raw.

“After all of us getting tested we’ll gladly fill you up with our cum, baby,” Chan seemed to have read your mind, your cheeks beginning to burn while he smirked down at you.

Seungkwan positioned himself behind you, one hand on your hip, the other around his cock. The condom was on and another squeeze of lube coated it, making it an almost perfect glide when he sunk into you, the feeling of you around him so good he couldn’t help but moan in pleasure. Chan watched, ripping the condom open to roll it up his cock, waiting for Seungkwan to fully sink inside so he could take his place inside your throbbing cunt.

“A-ah, Seungkwan,” you whimpered, tears pooling in your eyes when you felt him bottom out. He twitched inside you, hands now both on your hips.

“You are so tight and perfect, princess, could cum right away,” his words made you shiver, and when he pulled you up, your back meeting his chest, you felt him slip inside even deeper, your eyes rolling back. Chan moved forward now, fingers on your core, lips finding yours for a soft kiss.

“Ready for me?” He asked and you nodded, one arm behind you, wrapping around Seungkwan’s neck, while the other was sneaking around Chan’s shoulders. The latter licked his lips, lining his cock with your entrance and beginning to push in. You gasped at the feeling of him stretching your walls, his body so close to yours, both of the men literally breathing against your skin, not even an inch of air between you. Nothing had ever felt better and right now you couldn’t imagine ever having sex another way. You looked into Chan’s eyes, felt him bottom out and the feeling of fullness is so much another set of tears pools in your eyes.

“M-move, god, please fuck me,” you cried and they share one last look before giving you what you want (and what they want for that matter).

The first thrusts were almost simultaneous. Chan and Seungkwan tried to match each other’s pace, but soon enough they got lost in their own pleasure. You, between them, were a moaning mess, tears streaming over your cheeks at this point, fingernails digging into the skin of the two men making you feel like the sexiest and most precious being on this earth. Hearing them breath hard, moan, groan, it was all like heaven to you.

“You’re so fuckign tight, fuck, taking us so well,” Chan’s lips were on your neck, another mark showing up, Seungkwan on the other side, his hips frantically moving, lips latched onto your neck and shoulders whenever he wasn’t moaning your name and how good your ass was for his cock. Chan picked up the pace, chasing his high and hoping to take you with him, his hands finding your tits and squeezing them, while your own hand now moved in between your bodies, thumb on your clit getting you even wetter.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me cum,” Chan’s whisper into your ear made you tremble and you pushed your hips against Seungkwan who grabbed your hips even harsher, sure to leave a bruise.

“Won’t last long, f-fuck,” he felt like his head was about to explode.

“Want both of you to cum for me, please. Wish you were fucking me raw, want your cum in me so bad,” you didn’t know how you were able to form a cohesive sentence, but it did it’s job. The two men moaned, their cocks throbbing and twitching as they became even sloppier, both their heads buried in between your neck and shoulder, moaning against your sweaty skin as they came at the exact same time, cum shooting into the condoms and finally taking you over the edge for a third time. You milked them for all they had, collapsing against Chan in front of you, the exhaustion taking over. Your pussy still pulsated around Chan, making it hard for him to leave you, but looking at Seungkwan, he knew they should probably get you to lay down.

They pulled out, Seungkwan helping you into the sheets, your eyes fluttering open and a smile spreading on your tired lips.

“That was incredible,” you whispered and Seungkwan nodded, softly moving the hair out of your face.

“You are incredible,” he then added, kissing your forehead. Chan had gone to the bathroom meanwhile, getting you a wet towel which he now used to clean you up. Sadly for all of you, there wasn’t any of their cum involved. Still, you were thankful for the help, considering you would need at least another ten minutes of resting before you could get yourself to the bathroom.

–

The food tasted great even when heated up. After getting dressed again (even though you did change into pajama shorts and a top instead of your dress) and peeing, the three of you had come back to the living space to finish the actual date. It was maybe slightly awkward, but nothing another glass of wine couldn’t fix.

“So,” you started, clearing your throat, “what does this mean for us now?” You looked from Seungkwan to Chan and back.

“That you’re our girlfriend, right?” Chan raised his brows and you felt your cheeks heat up. Coughing once you slowly nodded.

“I mean… if you’re cool with that?”

“Cool with that?” Seungkwan laughed, “we literally just fucked the life out of you, we are more than “cool with that”, Y/N.”

You stared at him for a few seconds. Then you broke out into a laugh.

“Fair enough. Well then… yes, I am your girlfriend. You are… my boyfriends,” the smile wouldn’t leave your lips.

“So, how exactly are we gonna tell the others?” Chan leaned back on his hands, a grin on his pretty face.

“Well, first of all I should really let them know how wrong they got their guess. But to be fair - I am an incredible actor, so obviously no one would have known.”

“Well, you also didn’t know we liked you back, does that make us good actors too?” Seungkwan raised his brows. You thought about this for a second.

“I guess that makes all of us a perfect match. Easy as that.” And when they laughed and you ended up falling asleep on the couch later that night they couldn’t even deny how right you were. Nothing had ever felt more perfect than this. Than you.

#svt smut #seventeen smut #boochan smut #lee chan smut #dino smut #chan svt smut #dino x reader #chan x reader #lee chan x reader #chan x you #dino x you #boo seungkwan smut #seungkwan smut #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan x you

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hispg · 1 year ago

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Between royalty and vows

Pairings: Prince! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: A forced marriage, a fate set in stone, nothing could change that.

In the world of royalty, there were no choices, only obligations to fulfill. What you didn't expect was to become engaged to a renowned prince, ready to succeed the lineage.

Until that moment, you still had some hope that everything would work out, maybe it wasn't so bad. But it would be a shame if your future husband had a mistress.

Wouldn't it?

Wc:2.6k

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt/ comfort, cheating, arranged marriage, eventual smut, one-sided love, affairs, manipulative behavior from Leon, (I'll put more once things start to progress).

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 |

An:I just wanted to tell you to prepare your hearts for the next chapter, because it's going to hurt.😭

Chapter 4: Knowlegde

Two days had passed since Leon had left for this trip. It had also been two days since the castle had been in a state of complete commotion, there wasn't a second when there was silence in the corridors.

That's because preparations for the wedding were in full force. Goods were arriving all the time, decorations were being spread around the castle, all under the queen's supervision.

You had even tried on your wedding dress, which you honestly didn't feel the slightest bit happy about when you looked in the mirror. Not that the dress was ugly, far from it, but the feeling inside your heart about your wedding was something that was too far from happiness.

It was your wedding, but you felt like an intruder.

But today you somehow managed to escape the incessant questions from the queen, or the servants asking:

"Which color is best?"

"Which wine does your highness prefer?"

"Which of these jewels?"

"What kind of flowers?"

These and other endless questions, which frankly you didn't care whether the color of the tablecloths was white or cream, you didn't care much about that part.

Or even whether the flowers in your bouquet should be roses or poppies, either of which would make a beautiful bouquet, so there was no point in getting worked up about it.

It all seemed to be overwhelming you so much, making your head spin in circles every time the subject came up.

Sometimes you felt like running away from all this mess, going back to the comfort of your Palace and pretending that everything that had happened here had just been a bad dream.

But there was no turning back, once you were here, committed, there was no second choice.

Once again you found yourself hiding in one of the corners of the courtyard, a more secluded place where not many people actually came. In fact, the place wasn't as well-kept as the rest of the garden, the vegetation a little overgrown, the trees and bushes untrimmed, even the benches there were full of fallen leaves.

But none of that bothered you, as long as you could get a single second of peace in that place, any space was enough.

You had nothing more than a book in your hands, which you took from the royal library and brought with you for some kind of distraction, which didn't work out very well. Your mind was in a whirl.

At the same time as you were relieved that Leon wasn't around, you couldn't say that you didn't miss him either. As hard as it was to admit.

All you had from him these last few days were two letters, which you didn't bother to read. Maybe you should have, since at least he took the effort to write you something, but you weren't the least bit interested in knowing how things were going for him.

Since, to begin with, you didn't believe at all that he'd gone on business, there was surely another reason behind it.

But it's not as if there was much you could do, just wait and pretend that nothing had happened. After all, isn't that what a good and devoted wife does?

You found yourself at the edge of the water fountain, sitting while your bare hand floated beneath the wet surface. You were just tracing the water, making small movements while thinking about various things. As well as being grateful to be alone there. Your thoughts wandering away, a solemn expression on your face while the sound of birdsong was the only noise there.

As if punished by fate, your peace was interrupted when you heard footsteps, and you mentally prepared yourself for yet another servant calling you in, probably to make yet another boring decision about your marriage.

But to your surprise, no, it wasn't like that at all. You saw the familiar silhouette, the tall, robust man, the gentle brown eyes that you would never mistake.

Duke Redfield, a pleasant presence in the midst of this chaos.

You couldn't hide the small smile that formed at the corners of your lips, your head cocked slightly to one side as you looked at him.

He approached, paying you a courtesy and sitting down nearby, keeping a respectful distance.

"The queen is looking for you." He begins, looking down at your bare hand which was resting under the water of the fountain.

You sigh, locking your gaze with his, "It's more comfortable out here."

Your simple way of saying that you had no plans for whatever the queen's requests were.

Chris nodded, giving you a concerned look. He didn't have to be a genius to know that something was wrong with you.

"It's normal to feel nervous before the big day, it's a major commitment." Chris begins, not looking at you specifically, but at your hand that was in the fountain

Something about seeing your delicate hand without gloves for the first time caught his eye.

You sighed a little, feeling a cool autumn breeze hit you both, your eyes settling on him.

"Maybe that's it… I think it'll pass soon." You answer back. But because you're such a bad liar, he doesn't buy what you say.

He nods, taking something out of his pocket and giving it to you. It was a piece of paper, a letter. It was obvious who it was from.

Leon.

You took the letter without saying a word, just looking at the sophisticated paper in your hands. The impeccable writing that you already knew well. Not that you were in the best mood to read it, but you weren't going to mess it up in front of the Duke.

"The prince asked me to give it to you, he wrote it before he left." Chris said it simply, neither happy nor sad. But at the same time there was something in his voice that conveyed a certain discomfort.

You couldn't tell what. Maybe he knew how bad things were between you and Leon, who knows?

But that didn't matter now, you just opened the letter and started reading. And as much as you hated the situation, you couldn't deny that your heart skipped a beat at every measly word on that piece of paper.

'My dearest beloved' The first words you read, which made you simultaneously giddy and stressed. It wasn't possible for him to be so facetious. Or worse, you fell under his poor spell.

The words expressed in ink and on paper that made you feel tumultuous, confused, feelings that touched you, and that you tried fervently to keep under control.

'I realize that our lives are changing abruptly, but I wanted to ask for your understanding.' You couldn't believe your eyes, asking for understanding at a time like this? You were slowly confirming your hypothesis that he hadn't gone on this trip just for business. Why were you still so foolish to believe him?

'My mother is in charge of the wedding preparations, so I just hope you'll accompany her. I don't want you to be alone.' Once again you put the pieces together, that's why his mother was always after you.

She wouldn't let you walk around the castle alone for a single second, after all, it was Leon who asked for things to be this way.

He wanted to control you even when he was away, wanted to keep you under his watchful eye even while he was away.

Now you understood why his mother had even told you that you needed to do some waltz practice for the wedding. Why would you need to learn something you already do so well?

Or even the fact that she wanted to ask you to help her choose the jewelry she would wear on the day of the event. Shouldn't that be her choice?

It was no wonder the queen sent Leon letters every day, it wasn't just a longing of a mother, it was control over your actions.

You were a lady of royalty, a future queen, you had to behave like one. You knew that perfectly well, and perhaps you wanted to be just a little daring about it.

Looking at Chris next to you, you couldn't let a thought slip your mind, or you could even say that it was an enormous impulse that you possessed.

It was almost time for the instruments for the ceremony to be tested. Just as the renowned musicians were going to be trained so that they wouldn't get the music wrong at the moment of the occasion.

Coincidentally, this was the same time you were going to waltz 'lessons', supposedly so as not to make any mistakes on the perfect day. You were a great princess, obviously. And as an exemplary lady of royalty, you couldn't miss a lesson, you couldn't set such a bad example.

But today, your dance partner would be someone quite different from the usual. The person who was sitting in the purest of silences next to you.

Duke Redfield. Wasn't that a great idea?

You rolled your eyes at the end of the letter, too worn out to bother reading it all at once.

'I hope to return soon, my dearest beloved.' Dearest beloved, you still hated the way he tried to make you believe it was real at some point. And you hated even more that some part of you believed it was real.

With that last part, you put the letter inside the book you were carrying, letting the piece of paper mingle with the others you hadn't read yet.

Not that you were going to read all those letters later, nothing more than a disuse of your time.

You then put your glove back on, giving the Duke a kind smile as you adjusted your clothes. Making sure you looked presentable for a waltz with the Duke.

"I imagine the letter put you in a good mood, princess." Chris broke the silence, looking at you with his gentle brown eyes.

You gave a little smile, fixing the sleeves of your dress as you stood up on your heels, a corner-to-corner smile on your face.

"Certainly in a great mood." You're lying, it wasn't the letter that was putting you in a good mood, it was actually what you were going to do.

As Leon said he couldn't leave you alone, without anyone's company, you couldn't ignore your husband's sweet request. So why not? A waltz with the Duke wouldn't hurt anyone.

He smiled and got up with you, standing in front of you as a melody began to echo through the castle. The perfect moment for you to put what you wanted into practice.

When the wedding choir began to play at full capacity, to the point where all the music could be heard by the two of you outside, you stepped forward and bowed to the Duke.

Taking the opportunity to give the most charming smile you had, a smile capable of bewitching even the toughest of knights.

"May I have the honor of a dance?" You whispered, knowing how bold it was of you to ask.

You were an engaged lady, as well as being from high society. Fiancée to the prince, a close friend of Chris. He had every reason to interpret this as flirting and say no. But something in you told him that he was far from giving you a negative answer.

"As you wish, Your Highness." He returns the bow, moving closer to you.

One of his hands comes up to your waist, the other wrapped around yours, lifting both hands, his and yours, to his shoulder.

Your hand joins his, sharing the warmth of the touch, while your other hand grips your dress, his gallent smile taking your breath away.

You soon began to move your feet to the rhythm of the waltz, and he followed. His eyes never failed to lock onto yours, your smile widening with every step you took in that courtyard.

With every movement, with every twirl through that courtyard, your heart fluttered, you couldn't stop smiling at that moment.

Something about that situation was special, good, pleasurable. A gentle breeze in the midst of the events taking place in that castle. At that moment all you could think about was this waltz, this simple moment.

Chris conducted the dance masterfully, watching as your dress moved along with you, or the tenuous smile you gave him. Your eyes fixed on his as he led you, his hand firmly on your waist, making his presence clear, his touch there.

You carried on, the waltz continued to play as you focused on each other, moving in union in that meaningful dance, where so many unspoken words were being expressed by the looks you two exchanged.

In the middle of the graceful spins, Chris decided to get a bit of attitude and twirled you around in the air, holding you firmly as he did so.

You couldn't help but giggle when he put you down, returning to dance with him around the courtyard.

At that moment Chris could have sworn that there was no smile as captivating as yours, or eyes more passionate than your pair. You were an unlikely partner, but something about you was different.

"That dress looks stunning on you." He breaks the silence as he dances with you, looking at you with that same smile that makes your knees weak.

You nodded, giving him a sweet smile. A smile that was beginning to gain a significant piece of his being.

"Thank you, I'm pleased you like it." You were genuine in what you said, it was really nice to have someone who appreciated things like that. Of course, in a real way.

With nothing but the sound of the music and your heels hitting the floor, Chris continued to take you back and forth, not caring to stop anytime soon.

As soon as he spun you around, you felt eyes on you. You didn't notice much since there were only the two of you in that part of the garden.

But as soon as you looked up at one of the highest windows in the castle, there she was, the queen. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the two of you dancing and giggling quietly in the courtyard, not caring about anything. She didn't look too happy either.

But that's what you wanted, so Leon could know you weren't alone. Wasn't that what he was so worried about? So he didn't have to worry any more.

You just smiled at Chris as if you hadn't seen anything, and he hadn't noticed anyone else watching you either.

When the noise died down, you both stopped, bowing as if you were officially at a ball. You bowed while holding your dress with both hands, giving the most beautiful smile you could give.

And he reciprocated, looking delighted.

"It was a pleasure, Your Highness." Chris says in a soft tone, raising his arm for you to accompany him inside.

"The pleasure is all mine, Duke." You say with a smile, and he quickly corrects you.

"Chris, you can call me that. Forget the formalities, at least while we're alone." You could be crazy, but his tone at the end was almost suggestive.

"Right, Chris." You whisper, and the name slips past your lips in such an alluring way, so right.

He then smiled and began to guide you, while you looked over your shoulder to the window where the queen was standing.

A smile crept across your face as you walked alongside Chris. You wanted her to see.

You wanted it to be as explicit as daylight. After all, giving it back was only fair, right?

What the eyes can't see, the heart can't feel. You'll see how true that phrase is when the consequences of your actions arrive.

Sometimes playing fair is the best way. Even if it means breaking a few rules.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #leon scott kennedy x reader #re leon #resident evil leon #leon scott kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon smut #between royalty and vows

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tyungelic · 6 months ago

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★ don't smile

★ — pairing. yunho x gn!reader

★ — summary. a fun night out turns into a night you regret.

★ — tags. non-idol au, post-breakup, angst, smoking, reader has depression

★ — word count. 1.2k words

★ — author’s note. don’t smile by sabrina carpenter has been stuck in my head all day so i had to write a lil something~ hope you enjoy it! consider this an apéritif before my bigger yunho fic comes out! thanks for reading <3

“Arriba, abajo, al centro, pa ‘dentro!”

You chant with your friends before downing yet another shot of fireball. It burns going down and makes your eyes water, but the warmth that spreads through your body afterwards is welcoming considering how cold it is outside.

“Going out for a cig, I’ll be back,” you announce to your friends. You fish for your box of One Slims in your coat pocket and pull one out. The cigarette hangs between your teeth and rests against your bottom lip as you search for your lighter. You take a long drag and watch your surroundings as you lean against the building.

Smoking was a habit you got sucked back into recently. You’d been clean for nearly two years, but your breakup with Yunho was what brought it back.

You shake that thought off. No need to think about your ex-boyfriend tonight, you’re here to have a good time. It’s amazing to you how Hongdae manages to stay so packed even in the middle of January, you think to yourself. You turn to watch the other clubs and bars fill with people, and…

No, it’s not… it can’t be.

There’s no mistaking it. That’s him, that’s Yunho.

He’s standing outside the bar, holding hands with a woman you’ve never seen before. Their fingers are interlocked and Yunho’s doing that thing he used to do with you where he strokes your hand with his thumb. He’s all smiles as he looks at her with stars in his eyes.

In that moment, the cold air around you feels suffocating, your lungs feel like they’re made of lead. You can’t will yourself to move, to turn away and walk in the opposite direction. It’s as if your feet have been suctioned to the sidewalk. All you can do is stand and watch in abject horror. Your cigarette falls from between your trembling fingers and onto the pavement.

Hearing Wooyoung call your name snaps you out of it, and by the time you’re back to the present moment, Yunho is out of your line of sight.

“Hey, we were lookin’ for you,” Wooyoung says as he emerges from the crowded bar with San at his side.

You almost can’t believe what you just saw. It all feels like something out of a terrible dream.

“Oh,” you say flatly. You can’t hide that the air had been knocked out of you. Your eyes are already beginning to sting.

“I should start heading home, it’s late.” You can already feel your throat tightening.

“Now? Are you sure?” San asks. “Come on, things are just getting started.”

“Yeah, I’m- I’m really tired. Sorry. Have a good time without me, okay?”

San and Wooyoung call after you, but you turn away and walk toward the train station as quickly as your legs will allow you. You don’t want to turn back. You can’t.

You cringe internally at the way your voice shook just now. You hold down the power button on your phone and catch the next train back to your neighborhood. You can’t stop replaying that moment in your head. Yunho looked so happy, much happier than he was when he met with you at the park to break things off. Your stomach twists at the memory, he tried so hard to put on a happy front, delivering such devastating news with a smile.

Tears start streaming down your face and you can’t stop them. You’re so angry at him, at yourself. Of course he’s moved on by now. He’s Yunho, after all. Sweet, handsome, kindhearted Yunho. It was only a matter of time before someone saw all the radiant beauty in him, but did it have to be so soon? It’s only been two months since you broke up— was he that excited to get rid of you?

He stuck with you through every depressive episode, every moment you wanted to give up on everything. Everyone has a breaking point, did he reach his?

Were you a burden to him this entire time?

You’d only been together for a year and a half, but that time meant the world to you. He was everything you ever wanted, it felt like a dream to be with him. It was only a matter of time before you woke up from it.

You wake up with a pounding headache the next morning. You figure now is the perfect time to turn your phone back on. Part of you hopes to get a call or a text from Yunho acknowledging what happened last night. Maybe he spotted you and thought about you, too.

Instead you’re faced with a hoard of missed calls from Wooyoung and concerned text messages from the rest of your friend group. You figure you owe it to your friends to let them know you’re okay. You hit send on your message to the groupchat and promptly decide to call Wooyoung back.

He picks up within two rings.

“Morning,” he greets, sounding a bit groggy. “Did you get back home safe?”

“Yeah, thanks. Sorry for running off last night, I was just—”

“—No, it’s fine. You weren’t ready, I shouldn’t have pushed it. Are you okay?”

You sigh, preparing yourself to lie. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

“You sure? You don’t sound alright.”

You bite the inside of your bottom lip to stop the tears from escaping your eyes, but to no avail. You break down into sobs, your entire body shaking.

“Last night, I saw him… I saw Yunho. He was with someone new.”

Wooyoung gasps. “Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry…”

“He looked so happy,” you sob. “He’s so happy with her and I made him so fucking miserable when we were together.”

“That’s not true. Yunho had nothing but good things to say about you the whole time you were together. Hell, even before he asked you out, he wouldn’t shut up about you. He loved you, Y/N.”

“Then why? Why did things have to end the way they did? Why did he move on so quickly?”

“I dunno, I wish I knew why,” Wooyoung says. “But he lost out on someone amazing. It’s his loss.”

“God, I should’ve known he was with someone new, he’s been so quiet in the groupchat lately. I just thought, y’know, since it’s taking me this long to get over him…” Your words trailed off with a sniffle. “I want him to miss me. Am I asking for too much? I just want him to miss me.”

You’ve missed Yunho every day since he said goodbye on that park bench.

“Listen to me, Y/N. Love found you when you and Yunho got together and it’ll find you again. I promise it will.”

“Okay,” you say, but you don’t believe him. You know he means well, he always does, but you don’t want love to find you again. You don’t have the energy in you to have another talking stage, to be vulnerable with another person, to have someone new see you at your worst.

You don’t want another do-over with someone new.

You just want your Yuyu back.

#ateez x reader #ateez yunho #yunho x reader #yunho fanfic #tyungelic : my fics 🪽

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audliminal · 2 months ago

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It's Just a Game, Right? Pt 3 Redux

Masterpost

"It's a pun." Tim announces, the second he steps into Bernard’s apartment. He waves a folder at his boyfriend, moving to spread it’s contents out on his table.

“What’s a pun?” Bernard asks as he leans over to look at the annotated sheet music Tim has produced.

“The random notes are discordant because they’re off-key. And the off-key notes are the key to the Caesar Ciphers.”

“Oh,” Bernard says, leaning in closer to read one of the notes. The person Tim had hired had done an exceptional job; they were a bit bemused by the request, but once they’d gotten started they’d managed to transcribe a clean copy of Space Oddity, and then they’d not just identified the incorrect notes, but explained why they were wrong. Tim wasn’t sure all the information would be necessary for the puzzle, but it had been interesting nonetheless.

“Also I made a mistake the other day,” Tim says. “I’d assumed that the key to the ciphers wasn’t in the scale, because a scale has seven notes, but actually it has twelve.”

“Wait, what?”

“The chromatic scale; the complete set of possible notes in nearly all western music,” Tim clarifies. “Not the eight notes that make up a standard key, but the twelve that encompass every note available in a single octave. Apparently it’s not always twelve, though. The number of pitch classes can range a lot, though most stay below twenty in number. The Gamma scale, interestingly, was invented for the 1986 Beauty and the Beast film, in order to create near perfect triads. I couldn’t really tell the difference, but the sample notes sounded… interesting.”

Bernard, who had torn his head away from the musical score, stares at him for a long moment, before he starts to grin.

“You went on a Wikipedia dive.”

“I did. It was very interesting and also, very much not my field of expertise. Also, most of what I read doesn’t relate to your game.”

“That would be crazy if it did,” Bernard says.

“The point being, that some of the discordant notes correspond with the shifting of the images. Whichever incorrect note is closest in measure to the moment the image changes, is the key to that individual cipher, with how much it’s been shifted up or down.”

"Damn, okay." Bernard looks back down at the sheet music, then straightens. “A pun, huh? Good to know they have a sense of humor.”

“Puns are quite literally a play on double-meanings so they’ll probably pop up elsewhere. In my experience they’re pretty useful in puzzle and riddle design.”

“Huh.” Bernard tilts his head considering the new information. “I wonder if the Riddler uses many puns...”

"All the time, actually."

"Dude, why do you just know that?" Tim freezes, remembering too late that most people don't have access to dossiers on every rogue. "No, never mind I know you're like, weirdly knowledgeable about the bats and the rogues; I shouldn't be surprised."

"Well, maybe everyone should pay a little more attention to rogues’ MOs," Tim says pointedly. "They are generally considered to be the most serious safety threat in Gotham, after all.

"I mean, I know generally what their deals are, I just don't go all Genius-Mode about it." Bernard laughs, then gets a thoughtful look on his face. Oh no, Tim thinks. "Hey, maybe the bats should, like, commission your help to deal with the Riddler. I'd bet you'd work through his weird puzzles in like, ten minutes!"

"I feel like they're doing fine as is."

"Yeah, I guess, but like. What if they could do it even faster, right?"

"Maybe." Tim fiddles with his pen. "Do you want to know what else I found?"

“Yes, please.”

"I noticed that the length of time for each photo was different each time. I thought it might be a choice based on the music, since they always shift in time with a note, but there wasn't any logical pattern I could find there."

"I mean, that doesn't seem like a dead-end, that just sounds like we're missing something."

"Exactly. So I made a list of the duration between each incorrect note, and I ran that through a code checker, and it turned out to be encoded in base 26." Tim sets down the next page in his folder and points to the corresponding list of numbers, and then below it, to where he's written out the translation. With any luck, Bernard will focus on the transcription, and won’t ask what code checker Tim used.

"Dude." Bernard says, eyes wide as he stares at the page. “That’s ominous as fuck.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Tim says. When he’d gotten the translation back, he’d felt his blood go cold. He’d practically much fled the Batcave, as soon as he had the software properly closed.

"This is so cool!" Bernard exclaims grabbing at Tim's shoulders and shaking him lightly, accidentally pulling his attention back into the moment. "How have I not dragged you into solving ARGs before this? You're actually so good at it! Just wait till I tell everyone on the forum!"

Tim blinks, Bernard's sudden excitement is a jarring juxtaposition against the words on the page; completely unlike the dread and adrenaline that starts to kick up in Tim’s stomach when he thinks about it. But he can’t blame his boyfriend; this whole thing is just a game. And the people that wrote this, that made these videos, that encoded these messages – the real people, are having fun. He should be too.

Tim takes a deep breath and does his best to match Bernard's excitement. But the words on the page keep staring back at him.

help us please help us

#dp x dc #the one where the amity parkers make an arg

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gay-for-the-snz · 4 months ago

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Day 3: Campus/Con Crud (M, cold)

yayyy, Joseph prompt. I am one of the people who loves pointing out the irony of a sick doctor that he complains about, so now you get a whole prompt about it! 2.2k

⁂

It is impossible, truly, to avoid the oncoming 'fresher flu', or whatever other coy little term it's stuck with. A large number of people congregating, mingling, away from home for the first time and desperate to make a good impression; it's a recipe for one person tracking something into the university, and it spreading like wildfire amongst the population, whether they be student or staff.

Of course, he's no fool. He takes more than adequate precautions, but all the caution in the world is unable to do anything to prevent contracting something entirely. He may as well pin his same hopes on holding back an ocean with a sheet of paper.

And so here he sits, holed up in his office like a hermit while he feels this cold settling in full force. He wrinkles his nose against the feeling of it, everything damp and thick like it's trying to become a swamp in inflamed sinuses. He blows his nose, frowns more deeply, and blows it again. It does little to ease the discomfort, but does provide a small amount of relief in allowing him to breathe somewhat more easily, at least for the next few moments.

He squirts some hand sanitizer into his palms, even if by now it's somewhat of a moot point. If someone doesn't get something from him, they will get it from someone else. That doesn't mean, of course, that he shouldn't still be cautious--he is, after all, a medical professional. To transmit something to someone else, they would need to actually enter his office, but no one has signed up for his office hours, and it's customarily silent in here, save for the sound of his sniffling.

It hasn't quite progressed to the sneezing just yet, but there's that niggling irritation in the back of his nose, nestled deeply within where no amount of sniffling, or rubbing with tissues, or blowing his nose will truly clear it. It will only be satisfied by a truly scraping sneeze that will scratch the itch, if only temporarily.

The door opens, much to his surprise, and Monty slips in as unobtrusively as he can manage. "Mr. Cavanaugh."

"Dr. Valentine." He goes to raise his mask, but Monty waves him off. "Don't bother, I'm sure I've already got it coming down the pipeline. My roommates all came down with it earlier this week, and there's really not much room to stay away from eachother."

He doesn't shrug, but does give a slight nod of affirmation. "You're free to make your own decisions." He nudges the box of tissues in between their two desks, to keep it in reach of the pair of them. He doesn't exactly want to share the box, he would much prefer unfettered access to them, himself and no one else. But it's important to be generous and open--or so says the HR department.

They love to fuss and fawn and breathe down the back of his neck, but rarely seem to actually take "yes" for an answer. He's not going to be kissing babies or shaking hands, and that seems to be the only thing that people want to see. No one cares about the fact that he has opened his office to another person. That he is sharing the burden of his workload. That he is being so gracious as to even share his tissues with someone else.

It's not so much the tissues that he's really focused on, it's the concept. It's the fact that he is being so gracious, that he is working so diligently to appease the desires of the people who need to feel so important that they have nothing better to do but hound him, and no one is giving him the credit he is due for it. To buy him a bit of breathing space from the fears that they will take away his final chance to have a TA, that he is some cruel beast who is going to chase this one off like all the others.

"You should be resting, if you're coming down with this."

He laughs, adjusting the thin wire frames of his glasses in that unconscious habit of his. "I could say the same to you, really."

He takes off his reading glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose between his eyes, something to fend against the dull headache that's starting to grate at him. "You're right."

It's a surprising admission, clearly, because Monty looks like he's been nearly knocked out of his chair just to hear it. "Did I hear you right? You, Dr. Valentine, are admitting that you're willing to go rest?"

"That's where you're wrong. I admitted I should be."

"Doctors make the worst patients, then?"

"And I'm one of the worst." He sniffles, distinctly aware of just how wet the sound of it is, and plucks a couple tissues from the box. He can feel that nascent tickle, the feeling of it beginning to slowly unfurl and brush delicately along. He grits his teeth slightly, waiting for it to decide whether or not it's going to become an actual sneeze.

And it does.

He takes a sharp gasp, and sneezes harshly into the handful of tissues, his shoulders jumping hard from it. "HH'RRASSHHue!" It scrapes roughly over his throat, tears through his sinuses in a way that does, thankfully, scratch that irritation.

Monty jumps, looking up from his laptop. "Jesus! Bless you!"

He glowers over his steepled hands, nothing but exhausted and angry eyes above the painted nails.

"Right. No blessings. You got it."

He waits until he sees him swivel his chair back to what he's doing before he finally relaxes his shoulders, blows his nose harshly. It was satisfying, this time at least. It'll become less effective later, when he gets into the thick of this cold. For now, it's an effective, if momentary, relief of the tickle. He sniffs again in the aftermath of it, the action feeling significantly drier and less wretched than it did beforehand. He knows it's going to refill soon enough, his mucous membranes working overtime to attempt to flush this virus out of his system, but for now he's thankful for what relief he can scrape together.

"This is one of the things you must accept, as a medical professional." Monty doesn't turn to look at him, and for once he's thankful to not have to be making eye contact. "You will still always get sick, no matter the precautions you take, and no matter the attempts at diverting the course of nature. Being the 'sick doctor' is something that people always find deeply amusing to point out the irony of, and something you must accept."

"I don't think people usually hold it against anyone. Like you said, it's impossible to avoid--especially this time of year, when it just wreaks havoc on everybody."

"And yet. And yet." He swipes a pair of tissues from the box, folds them in half in preparation. "People will point it out as if you're supposed to be able to make it happen. As if being ill is some moral or professional failing on your part."

"I guess it's hard for people to sort of separate the professional from the profession."

"The 'campus crud' and 'fresher's flu' and whatever else they decide to call it. Every year it takes its toll on the populace of any school, and every year everyone wrings their hands and fusses and frets because it's inevitable. Would I prefer that it was something we could actually truly avoid? Something which we could actually force the steps necessary to minimize its effects? Certainly. Who wouldn't, especially as a medical professional? But as it stands, we can only work with the authority which we're granted, and that authority doesn't extend much farther than the walls of this office, or occasionally the classroom in which we're teaching." He sniffles, and takes the tissues from his desk. "Don't startle, this time."

"Doctor?"

" 'RRSSHHue! HH'RRASSHHue!"

He sniffles in the aftermath, holding his position for a second longer than he really needs to ensure he's finished, before he straightens up and pinches at the tip of his nose.

He looks like he tried his best, but it's impossible not to notice the jump in his shoulders, the way he looks more like a prey animal than a TA. "Bl--" He falters under the waspish glare. "--ack. Black...uh, polish. It suits you." He gestures flashes his own bare nails for emphasis.

"Don't get used to wearing it if you want to be in the operating room." Even though he just sneezed, it hasn't fully scratched that itch. He grants himself the indulgence of wrinkling his nose hard against the feeling, and sniffs sharply, the liquidy sound blunted by the congestion preventing it from being wholly effective. "Some hospitals allow it, but I would discourage its use. One of the many perks of teaching, rather than doing."

He leans forward slightly, takes another couple of tissues and blows his nose thoroughly, before squirting hand sanitizer into his palms. Monty's stopped working entirely, it seems, because he leans back in his own chair and makes some vague motion with his pen. "And the schedule, I'm sure."

"I don't miss being on call. I will likely never be able to hear the sound of a pager without that instinctive jolt of adrenaline that tells me something is happening urgently."

"You still have it, I'm guessing?"

He offers a faint, wry smile. "I'm not one to throw out perfectly good technology."

"I don't think you're beating the old man accusations at this rate."

"Let them make whatever accusations they want. I'm middle-aged, but old to those doe-eyed and bushy-tailed freshmen who think that anyone over the age of thirty-five is going to keel over and die at a moment's notice." He rolls his chair across the floor mat and grabs a stack of papers from the printer. "Here. Tomorrow's lecture notes, you're going to be my annotation."

"Wow, and just when I thought the exciting world of Molecular & Cellular Basis of Disease couldn't get any more exciting, now I get to annotate a stack of papers that are their own basis of disease."

He scowls. "If you're implying that I've handed you lecture notes I've been using as a tissue, you're insulting me."

"I wouldn't say insulting so much as, like, good-natured ribbing."

"Don't."

"No ribbing? No friendly joshing?"

"Get out of our office."

He certainly isn't going because he's been told to, but he gets up nonetheless. "Fine. I'm getting a Monster."

"I will remember your kidneys fondly."

"You'll be my donor?"

"I will not be offering you my kidneys, nor my surgical prowess."

He rolls his eyes, but continues out the door nonetheless.

He massages his sinuses now that Monty is out of the room, granting him the privacy to be a little more indulgent in the way he tackles this cold. He is not optimistic that it's going to be over soon, nor gently. His nose is prickling with irritation, and he can feel how warm it is to the touch, blushing from the abuse it's been taking. He's always been somewhat chagrined by how quick it is to redden from his attention, drawing everyone's eyes to it without any chance to say no.

He glances towards the ugly fluorescent lights outside of his office in the hallway, the light harsh in the little window by the ceiling. It does enough, this time. "Hh'RRISSHhue! Hh...hH'RRRSSHhuh!"

He sighs, and brings a hand up to rub his throat with a little wince. The curse of the 'dad sneeze', as it were, is that an already tender throat is only made more so by them. He blows his nose, and pinches at his nose. This has, finally, seemed to scratch that itch fully. He's bought himself a bit of time before the next time, and in so doing has bought himself the time to start annotating a test that's already starting with several wrong answers in a row. Joy.

He pinches the bridge of his nose again, the headache trying to push through the malaise. He's going to have to sleep early tonight. An extra hour of rest, perhaps, carefully rearranged to fit into his busy schedule. He isn't planning on taking any time off--for a cold, especially one so minor as this--would be foolish. And, of course, this early into the quarter, it would be not only unprofessional but setting his students up for failure. Missing time as a student? Difficult, but able to be made up. Missing time as a professor? It sets the entire class behind.

He's never smoked, but there's occasionally that desire within him to go take a smoke break. That immediately soothing of tension, of frayed nerves and discomfort eased. He takes a sip of coffee instead--a different concession to himself, one that isn't recommended but is more tolerable than alternatives. His mug, some old, kitschy thing with a bat that was a gift from a friend years ago, shows its age in the fading color and the surface cracks that run along it.

Simply another storm to be weathered.

#he's my wife #ik this is a late time of night to post it but w/e. I'll link it and will reblog this again eventually #sickfic #snzfic #snz #sicktember 2024

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freywrites1928 · 2 years ago

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Forbidden

Aizawa x Student Fanfic || (student is 18)

TW: student teacher relationship, smut

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Part One:

“Oh, yes! Right there!” I moan out as his tongue sweeps expertly over my sensitive clit.

“You like that, huh?” His deep voice whispers over my core. “You’re so wet for me, and just from a few licks. What a little slut.”

With that, he brings up his hand, looks me in the eye with a dark expression, and inserts two long fingers as he continues his work on my clit.

“Mmh, fuck…” I hum as I keep my eyes on the gorgeous man between my legs.

“Yeah, that’s right. Keep your eyes on me, I want to see your face as you come undone from just my fingers and tongue.”

He begins to pump his fingers faster, in and out, in and out, curling them slightly so they brush against my g-spot with every pass. He keeps his eye contact as he brings his thumb up to aid in his assault of my clit.

“Oh, yes. Yes! I’m so close!” I manage out as I try to maintain our eye contact.

“Yes, that’s a good girl. Cum for me darling. Cum all over my fingers and tongue like the good little slut you are.”

“Yes. I’ll cum for you, please don’t stop! Right there! Yes. Yes!”

“OW!” I’m suddenly jolted awake as I feel a slight sting on my forehead. “Did you just flick me?” I look over to see the purple haired menace grinning back at me.

“Well yeah, I had to. I tried calling your name a few times, but you wouldn’t wake up. We’re almost there.” Shinsou points out the window.

I look over him, and sure enough, our bus is driving down the dirt road that took us to the annual camping grounds. Man, I really don’t feel like enduring this camp for a whole week. And boy, am I pissed right now at Toshi and his shit ass grin for waking me up from such a beautiful dream,

“Ouch!” He yelps as I suddenly flick him right back on his forehead. “Jeesh, would you rather I have let you continue moaning like that for the entire bus to hear?”

“Yes, actually I would. You couldn’t have just waited 3 more seconds?” I try to angerly whisper yell at him, but it came out as more of a laugh. His grin spread again and soon we’re both laughing like school children. With an over dramatic sigh, I lean over to rest my head onto the shoulder of my best friend. We are silent for a few moments, looking out the window.

“So, was it me in the dream? Because you know, I could sneak into your tent one of the… Ouch!” He yelps as I once again flick him on his forehead. “If you continue to do that, you’ll leave a mark!”

“Good, you deserve it.” I state as I lean back onto his shoulder. Strong, muscular but not too bulky. I look at my friend. He’s handsome, well built, and we get alone great (which I can’t say about most people I interact with.) And not to mention, we can relate to each other’s struggles that come with the burden of having mind based quirks. All this put together, and it was only natural that we sought out a relationship that was more than just basic friendship. Though, we both agreed from our first time together that it would only be friends with benefits and nothing more.

At first, I was skeptical because anytime you hear about a friends with benefits situation, it always turns messy. Not with us though. I find it almost strange, our friendship has remained the same and neither of us have caught romantic feelings or have gotten jealous or anything. We are truly just best friends who help each other out when we get horny or need physical comfort. Or at least, we were that way.

After our last hook up, about a month ago now, I told Toshi it was the last time. Of course he rolled his eyes, because I always say that when I get crush on someone. The way I figure it, even if we aren’t bothered by that sort of thing, most other people aren’t going to go for a girl who’s sleeping with someone else. Usually, the crush I have goes no where since I don’t ever actually talk to the person I’m crushing on, so it fades, and I’m right back to Toshi’s bed.

Not this time though. It’s been a month, and I’m still firm on my resolve, because this crush is definitely not going anywhere anytime soon. I can tell Toshi’s getting a bit frustrated. He acts calm and cool all the time, but he’s really just an awkward dope who also has trouble connecting with other people. As a result of that, he doesn’t know how to approach people in a ‘seducing’ type of way so now he’s bordering on sexually frustrated. Since I’m not there to help him out, he doesn’t know what to do. I find it funny. Him, not so much.

My head is still resting on the purple haired boy’s shoulder, as the bus continues to rumble along the road, passing by the beautiful forest scenery. I look into his eyes a moment, since that’s all the time I need to activate my quirk.

I immediately regret it.

“Oh my god!” Why are you thinking about that at such a peaceful moment!” I whisper yell as I pull out of Toshi’s mind. “I was sitting here reflecting on our wonderful friendship, and you’re over here thinking about the time you tied me up with your binding cloth! You pervert!” I shove his shoulder to emphasize my disgust.

“Hey now!” Toshi retorts. “You were the one having a sex dream and moaning right next to my ear just minutes ago. What do you expect! I am a guy after all.” He tries his best to look innocent but his mischievous eyes and slowly emerging grin ruins it. “And besides, I’m not convinced your dream wasn’t about me, so I’m not doing anything wrong.”

I roll my eyes at him. “You’re so full of yourself.” I say as a lightly punch him in the shoulder, earning me a real smile from him in return. “But, you should know, it really wasn’t about you.”

“Oh yeah Mia, then who was it about this time?” Toshi grins and raises his eyebrow at me, but the smirk I give him wipes his face blank. “Nope, never mind. I do not want to know.” He looks back out the window.

“Oh, but you were so eager to find out a second ago Toshi!” I taunt as I lean over and whisper in his ear. Just then the bus comes to a halt as we’ve finally arrived at the campground.

“No, I wasn’t that curious. You can keep it to yourself.” He nervously states trying to avoid looking at me.

The door of the bus opens and we see someone walk on to address the students.

“Calm down now.” A deep, tired sounding voice sounds through the bus. “Gather all your things. Everyone from all classes are going to meet in front of the main operations building.”

Toshi is still not looking at me as I lean over and whisper in his ear yet again. “You mean you don’t want me to tell you that person in my dream, the one that made me moan so hard even while sleeping…” Toshi finally looks over at me in what can only be described as agonizing despair and slight disgust. I look up towards the front of the bus, and Toshi follows my gaze, and we see him staring at us both. “…was your favorite mentor…” Toshi shakes his head trying to make the image that is no doubt forming go away as I proceed to smirk at the rough, dark haired man at the front of the bus. “…Aizawa sensei.”

#mha fanfiction #my hero academia aizawa #aizawa fanfiction #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #aizawa x student reader #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #shinso hitoshi #mha smut #aizawa shota #aizawa smut fanfiction #anime fanfiction

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faun-the-fawn77 · 6 months ago

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Chapter 2 - "𝕀'𝕕 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕠 ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕝𝕕"

"I'd love to change the world But I don't know what to do So I'll leave it up to you" ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Word Count: 3.0k Chapter Warnings: swearing, a brief mention of s/h scars, mentions of future character death, lowkey simping for Kagaya, MC hates Sanemi and Obanai, don't worry that'll let up soon;) Note(s) at the bottom! <Previous: Chapter 1 - Next: Chapter 3>

It was quite a cool day out despite the sun glaring down. Wind blew softly by, sifting through the wisteria flowers. I could smell the overwhelming scent of those trees. I instinctively went to rub my nose to deter the oncoming sneeze only to remember my hands were tied behind my back.

The moment Ubuyashiki stepped foot onto the porch, a warmth spread through me. His presence was so calming. I can understand why the Hashira were so calm and level-headed during the meetings.

"Welcome, my dear demon slayer." And, oh, did I melt at the sound of his voice. It was smoother than the Dove milk chocolate I would indulge in from time to time.

"Good morning, everyone. It feels like a beautiful day. The sky is a perfect blue, isn't it?"

My head was turned just enough to see Ubuyashiki 'looking' up at the sky. My heart lurched. I almost forgot he was blind. I moved my head a bit to see that it was, indeed, clear skies. An ocean of blue with the faint wisps of clouds closer to the horizon. The warmth of the sun didn't hold a candle to the warmth that Ubuyashiki managed to have with his very presence.

"It makes me very happy that we can have our twice-yearly Hashira meeting without any members having changed." I could hear the scuffling between Tanjiro and Sanemi. This was Tanjiro's first time seeing the master of the corps so it was understandable. That, and seeing Ubuyashiki's illness. My brows furrowed as I traced along the little scars adorning my wrist.

"Master," Sanemi lowered his voice, "I sincerely pray for your increased happiness. It is good to see you so healthy." I nearly scoffed at how sincere his voice sounds. The fact that he can find it in his heart that is three sizes too small to care about Ubuyashiki is insane. Genya deserves better than this two-faced piece of shit.

The smooth voice of Ubuyashiki hummed out, "Thank you, Sanemi."

Then the gravelly voice of the Wind Pillar spoke up, "I'm sorry, but before the meeting, would be so kind as to tell us why this corp member who travels with a demon, Tanjiro Kamado is here? And the foreign girl who was found passed out at the battle scene?"

I shuffled in my spot, wincing when a pebble dug into my kneecap. I could feel eyes digging into my skull as soon as Sanemi finished speaking. If they weren't talking about me before, they were now. I was growing uncomfortable at the prolonged silence until Ubuyashiki spoke up, deterring the attention to him.

"Yes, my apologies. I have accepted Tanjiro and Nezuko. I want everyone else to do the same." The pounding in my head from when I woke up was back tenfold with how loud everyone had suddenly got. I curled in more, wishing to have earplugs or something to block out the chaos.

"I wasn't finished."

I breathed a sigh of relief at the instant silence. I looked up a bit, seeing Ubuyashiki seemingly staring right at me. I froze. Oh god, am I in trouble? Wait, did I actually do anything to even be in trouble? I felt my hands shake and start to get clammy at the thought of being killed by any of the powerful people around me.

"Hello, my dear. I hear you speak English?" I shot up, back pin straight at the sound of my language being spoke by Ubuyashiki. His accent and the sound of his voice was a comfort to me at this point.

"I do! Uh- I mean , I do, sir. Am I in trouble?" A light chuckle escaped Ubuyashiki's mouth at my question.

"No, you are not. We just have some questions for you. Will you be willingly to answer what we want to ask?" I looked at the others around me. I knew what happened. How this all ends. I could not, however, reveal that to anyone. Ubuyashiki maybe, but everyone else?

"I will answer as best as I can, sir." Ubuyashiki hummed and nodded. His daughter on his left side translated to the others that could not understand. Everyone seemed to perk up at that. The situation with Tanjiro and his demon sister nearly forgotten until the master spoke up.

"Urokodaki has sent a letter in regards to Tanjiro and Nezuko." Now that they were back to Japanese, I zoned out. The questions that I'm sure to be asked are going to be a complicated one to answer. How does one even explain my situation? 'Yeah, so, I fell asleep after hiking up the trail I usually go to and when I woke up I was falling from the sky'.

After shifting in my spot again, I noticed how light I felt. My eyes widened as I realised my hiking pack was no longer on my back. I looked around subtly to see if I could spot the moss green pack only to see it resting in front of Ubuyashiki. How I didn't notice that before is beyond me but, hey, I have shit vision so.

I bit my lip out of anxiety. If they see my phone or anything electronic then they'll surely accuse me of being a witch, or worse, a demon. Do they even believe in witches? Are those a thing in Japan?

The raising of voices snapped me from my thoughts. I looked up to see the white haired douche cutting himself open, his arm extended over top of Nezuko's box. His blood dripped down onto it. Everyone waited with bated breaths to see if the small girl would attack the Wind Pillar.

Scratches sounded from inside the wooden container. Soon enough the demon girl tumbled out, her eyes slitted and focused on the cut from Sanemi's arm.

I heard grunts over on my right, seeing Tanjiro struggling to get up from Obanai's hold. Obanai was kind of a prick too, wasn't he? I glared at the shorter male until I felt scales sliding around my neck. A white snake with piercing red eyes stared back into my (E/C) ones.

"Come on, want a taste?" I turned my gaze to Sanemi and glared. I could tell he was trying to provoke the girl into attacking him. Watching Nezuko struggle against herself was painful to watch. The smell of his marechi blood almost broke her but, Nezuko 'hmphed' and turned her head away. I giggled a bit before shutting my mouth when Sanemi turned his glare to me.

"What did she do?" Ubuyashiki's daughter on his right explained what Nezuko did which had him smiling.

"There you have it. Nezuko Kamado will not attack a human." Ubuyashiki went on talking a bit more to the others. Tanjiro was still at the edge of the porch after he was freed from Obanai's hold thanks to Tomioka. I noticed Nezuko had crawled back into her box, huffing at the gobsmacked Wind Hashira. When the Kakushi came in to take Tanjiro away, I cringed back after hearing the demon king's name slip from his lips. Oh god, the second hand embarrassment.

"He will be staying at the Butterfly Mansion until he is healed." Shinobu spoke. And with that, Tanjiro was dragged away by the kakushi.

It was silent for a few. I could hear the faint caws of the crows nearby. Kaburamaru still resting around my shoulders. Sanemi made his way back to the line up and, finally, Ubuyashiki spoke.

"Who would like to go first?" More chaos. They all seemed to be talking over each other, looking at me with wonder. I fell back, my head almost colliding with the gravel when an arm wound around my shoulders, pushing me upright. Kaburamaru hissed at the person and coiled a bit tighter around me.

"Be careful! Don't want you passing out again!" I jumped when I heard Rengoku's booming voice by my ear. He was smiling down at me, his eyes sparkling as if this is his first time eating sweet potatoes. I smiled nervously, and nodded, hoping it was the correct response to whatever it was that he said.

"My children, please, let her have room," Ubuyashiki spoke, saving me from the group of slayers surrounding me. I sucked in a breath at the freedom. Look, when you're surrounded by attractive people asking you questions in a language you cannot understand then you'd freak out too.

"We got reports of the use of a breathing style no one has seen. Care to explain?" Sanemi was standing off to the side, arms crossed over his heavily scarred chest, waiting for an answer from me.

I glared right back into his eyes. I turned my gaze from the irritating male and to the head of the corps, trying to explain what I remembered, "It was a spur of the moment thing. When I saw that Tanjiro was going to be sliced up, I kinda just reached for what I had on me to see if I could at least delay the attack. I didn't expect a giant flaming tail to sprout from the old knife I had."

"Liar."

I turned to Sanemi when that word slipped from his lips. He was staring right at me, his gaze narrowed and his brows scrunched up in irritation.

I scoffed, "Liar? How can I be a liar if what I'm saying is all I know? You expect me, a foreigner, to know why the hell that happened? I don't even know how I got here! For God's sake, I can barely even wield a weapon! And, assuming you all have been through the backpack I had with me, you'd know that I am, in fact, not lying!" I was huffing at the end. It was silent as Sanemi and I exchanged glares.

"Then why do we have a report telling us that you had, in fact, used a breath style? Quote unquote 'Breath of the Dragon. Sixth Form: Tail of Thorns'. Ring any bells?" A pain shot through my skull when the supposed breath style I used was uttered from the scarred male. I inhaled sharply at the pain, trying, and failing, to suppress the groan that was bubbling up my throat.

Shinobu, the ever-smiling woman, crouched in front of me. I could barely make out her face, my eyesight blurred from the tears lining my lash line. The pain was subsiding slowly but, when Shinobu placed a gentle hand to my forehead, I recoiled from the pins and needle feeling that sprouted from the spot she had touched.

"What did you say to her?" Shinobu turned to look at Sanemi. From the tone of her voice, I assume she had asked him a question. What that question is, I could not tell you. I watched as Sanemi's frown turned from a scowl to concern.

"I asked her about the breath style she used. Are you blaming me for her stupid headache?" I could almost feel the anger radiating from Shinobu when Sanemi had finished speaking. In fact, Rengoku and Tengen and even Mitsuri had turned to glare at the man. I wish I had popcorn or something to snack on. It's like watching a reality show that was actually interesting.

"Her 'headache' seemed to have appeared the moment you said that. If she has transient global amnesia from the concussion she had suffered, then she won't remember anything from the last 24 hours. It's best to let her recover those memories before prodding into her mind." Shinobu huffed and turned her attention back to me. I blinked at her, watching her expression shift from anger and irritation to calm and...happy? Her hand rose to gently touch my forehead again, this time with no pain sprouting from the spot.

"Since Kocho won't let me ask those questions, then how about we discuss the contents of your 'backpack'. Rengoku, grab the sack." Sanemi directed the last part of his words to the Flame Hashira. I sat there on my ass, wrists still bound together, seeing the others beginning to plop down closer to me as Rengoku grabbed my backpack, speaking lowly to the master, and returning to the semi circle of Hashira. He dropped the pack in front of me, taking a seat on my left side, and untied my restraints.

I dragged my pack closer, seeing the others lean closer to catch a glimpse of what I'll produce first. I hid my smirk as I unzipped the green pack, and dug for the familiar metal container that held the first aid supplies.

"We'll go one by one. How about that? If you have any questions about anything, Sanemi will translate 'cause I heard he's just nice like that." I held back a chuckle when I heard the Wind Hashira growl at that. The others, however, laughed when Ubuyashiki's daughter had translated what I said.

I pulled out the medical kit, moving my back pack to my right side since I basically trust Mitsuri with my life at this point. The green painted box was placed in front of me. I unlatched the locks and opened it to reveal general first aid stuff. As I looked inside, I'm pretty sure there was quite a few stuff that they couldn't recognise.

"This is just the basic first aid kit I bring with me on hikes. I'm sure Shinobu would like to go through it. Wanna hand it down to her for me?" I watched as Mitsuri passed it to Shinobu, who took it with careful hands. I could practically see the flowers and sparkles dancing around her as she dug through the kit. I smiled and blindly reached my hand into my bag again. I emptied out everything I had, or, I thought it was everything. I picked up my bag to hand to Obanai(untrusting motherfu-) only to feel a bit of weight to it. I reached in one last time, and felt three paper-back books. I yanked them out to see the first breath user's face staring right at me.

"Oh no..." My heart dropped right into my ass when the three volumes of Demon Slayer appeared in my hands. I completely forgot these were in there. I could feel the breath that was caught in my throat, my hands shaking as a cold fear rushed through my blood.

"Hey! What's got you shaking in your shoes?" Sanemi's rough voice cut through my panicked thoughts. I ignored him as I shoved the three books under my thigh, trying to hide them from any prying eyes. I was in the presence of the most vigilant people so when I felt the books leave from under me and in the hands of the irritating Wind Pillar, I almost fainted on the spot.

"What the hell? Why is Iguro on here?! Answer me!" He shoved the books into the Snake Pillars hands. His face was in mine. I stared at him, putting on my best poker face.

"I don't know what you're talking about. They just appeared in my pack so..." I looked away from the guy, watching Obanai flip through the volume that had himself on it. I chewed on my bottom lip, seeing the slight tremble in the Hashira's hands. I could only assume he's seen Shinobu's death...and the others fighting Kokushibou.

"Ask her what she knows about Muzan Kibutsuji." Even Obanai's voice was shaking with emotions. I could see Sanemi's brows furrow at whatever the Snake Pillar had said. Ubuyashiki even seemed to sit up straighter and turn to 'look' at me.

"Iguro wants to know what you know about Muzan." I cursed the snake guy under my breath. I couldn't tell them what I knew. It's bad enough that I have three of the twenty three volumes on me. If I played dumb then they would know I'm lying. I can't tell them about the final battle but...

"He's the demon king. The first demon to ever exist. I... know Obanai had just read about Shinbou's demise to Upper Moon 2. If I could tell you who lives and who dies, then I would but, that goes against the laws of this universe. I cannot tell you whether Muzan lives or dies. I can tell you that I will save those I can so that when the time comes to defeat Muzan, we'll have the numbers. If I do have a breathing style, I'm sure I'll be trained by someone who can help me master it," I spoke. I winced a bit at everyone's crestfallen expression at the news of Shinobu's death to the same demon who had killed her older sister. I even saw a flicker of fear flash in the Butterfly Pillar's normally emotionless eyes.

I stared ahead right at the master of the Demon Slayer Corps.

"It may not be today or tomorrow but, we will have the numbers to defeat that Michael Jackson rip-off and we will do it with the lowest amount of casualties as possible. If I can plan this right, we might even be able to convince a few demons to our side of the war." The moment that last sentence came from my mouth, I could feel the chaos before it erupted.

"Quiet."

Ubuyashiki's chocolate voice sounded throughout the courtyard. The others sat back, glancing between me and the master. The smile on Kagaya's face was that of determination.

"If what you say is true, then may I ask what demons you plan to convince?" Sanemi scoffed at that. I wanted to throat punch him so bad at this point for his pissy attitude towards everything but I held back.

"Akaza who is Upper Moon 3 and hopefully I can get through Upper Moon 6, Gyutaro and Daki. It's not much but, they're the ones that I'm sure will be easiest. Upper Moon 2 reminds me too much of another person that I know so convincing him will achieve nothing. Upper Moon 1 however... It will take everything I know about his life before he turned. Upper Moon's 5 and 4 are just lost causes," I explained. The thought of some of the strongest demons turning on Muzan to help us defeat him seemed to make some of the Hashira perk up.

If the words 'defeat Muzan' could be a feeling then I'm sure it would be whatever is in the air right now.

Ubuyashiki smiled, "Then I'll leave it up to you, (L/N) (Y/N)."

...

"How do you know my name-?!"

I got my charger! And I would have uploaded yesterday but my cat had to go to the vet and now im on the verge of my breaking point cause I do not have enough for his dental work:,) Anyway... More chapters to come! I am trying my best to edit them myself before I post. I am a one man team so I try and I DO NOT want to use A.I. for editing:,) so if I miss anything then let me know!

Also! sorry for the heavy hate on Sanemi...Since reading the whole series I kinda have a grudge against the guy. Being an older sibling myself, I cannot stand when someone hates their younger sibling ESPECIALLY if they are all they have. I know he doesn't actually hate him but I don't think I could EVER treat my younger brother like that. So I will let up when MC gets closer and meets Genya but for right now, she will be hating on the dude.

I will write more interactions between both Tomioka and Rengoku next chapter considering the next one is going to be a bit more fun and not story-based entirely. Anyway, hope you enjoy this so far!

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@eris-rose-86

#demon slayer #demon slayer fanfiction #kny fanfiction #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku kyojuro x reader #tomioka giyuu #tomioka giyuu x reader #isekai au #demon slayer au #isekai reader

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