#even if my posting schedule is just all over the place lmao | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alphabetboyluvr · 7 months

Text

the curious lifespan of migrating monarchs - jjk

THE CURIOUS LIFESPAN OF MIGRATING MONARCHS (& other aurelian affairs)

pairing: streamer!jk x international student!female oc (s2l)

warnings: strangers to lovers, clubbing, foul language, alcohol, vaping lol, jungkook is kinda famous, the oc is oblivious, the oc is also a foreign student who has very recently arrived in Korea!! (pls note - while i've been in korean uni dorms, i've never been in yonsei dorms specifically so don't shout at me if it isn't supeeeerr accurate), jaykay is speaking in eng for like 90% of this!!, i've also never watched a gaming streamer and had to do so for research lmao so there's a lot of guesswork going awwwn <3, the oc has tattoos, they bond over this, cute nicknames (tokki and nabi <3), one bed trope?? kinda, jaykay lives w/ yoongi and tae (they are streamers too (and dj?? (tae is a bit unhinged))), jungkook wears calvins!, a singular appearance of yoongi in his boxers!!, tipsy hookup, fingering, protected sex (woo!), desk sex, oral (m receiving), girliepop swallows <3, brief mentions of jungkook's starry eyes, lots of kisses, bunny ears, (1) mention of cross-fit

wordcount: 13011

note from holly: this was a commission done for the lovely Michelle over on my kofi page!! i don't open commissions often, but when I do I'm very lucky that the requests are so much fun. this actually ended up being way longer than it was supposed to be lol and is also available on wattpad!! also fun facts for you - I imagine the boys apartment (and jks room!) to be same as jk + jimins place in BD, just a little bigger lmao

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

CLUB SUNDOWN WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 02:24

Time ceases to exist after the sun goes down in Seoul. It could be two, or it could be five. The only thing that really clues you in on the actual time is the DJ schedule that lights up behind the decks: 02:00-03:00, Blu-Tae.

It's some guy you've never heard of. Looks no older than you. Probably a student, just like the rest of the crowd.

His hair is as blue as his namesake, which does make you smile, and his choices aren't bad either (even if somewhat questionable). You've never heard a jazz remix of Darude's Sandstorm before, and you doubt you ever will again.

Club Sundown is just as rogue as the rest of the city after the sun goes down. Hidden in the basement—like all the best places in Seoul are—the small room is packed to the absolute brim.

Who cares for views and sunsets offered by rooftop bars when you could lose yourself in the debauchery of an eternal midnight, instead?

Drinks are spilt on strangers, and dances have lost the grandeur of old-fashioned waltzes. It's not like you could dance properly, even if you wanted to. There's just simply no space.

Like Alice, you're down the rabbit hole—and oh, how you prefer it to being in the real world. In the shadows, you can be anyone you like.

If you were sober, you'd know this is also the case for daily life. You're in a new country with no ties to your former self. Who you are is who you choose to be.

But the shadows aren't all that dark. The red lights of the club bleed into the cracks, painting everyone in the same subtle hue of danger.

They shine a little light on the identifiers of you; the thin black lines of your patchwork tattoos. Trailing up your arm, they're memories of your past selves, and an indicator of who you hope to become.

"Down this," you say to your dormmate, Rae, handing back over the drink you've just ordered from the bar. "Cloakroom, then dance."

Still carrying your winter coats, you'd wanted to check the place out before committing to it. Entry is free, but the cloakroom is the same price as a drink. It would only be worth putting your coats away if you knew you wanted to stay—and given the fact the DJ was playing O-Zone's Dragostea Din Tei as you entered, you know it's a no-brainer. While his stage name might make you roll your eyes a little, Blu-Tae certainly does cater to your tastes. When you're drunk, and music vibrates through you, it's empyrean. No place you'd rather be.

"Oh, Jesus," Rae gags as she sips the drink you've just handed her. Despite her disgust, she's laughing. Head to toe in black, dark hair loose around her shoulders, she's been your ride-or-die since you arrived in Seoul. Both international students in the same dorm, there's no one you'd rather get up to no good with. "Vodka?!"

You beam at her like you're from the heavens above, wrongfully relegated to the depths of sin. Pretend like you love vodka. It's totally not like you panicked when you saw the menu was all in Korean.

Vodka-coke is a universally understood delicacy—the easiest thing for you to order without making a tit of yourself or butchering the pronunciation. When the bartender ignored your botched attempt at ordering in Korean and answered in fluent English, you'd wanted to melt into the floor. So embarrassing.

You're here, like most foreign students, for a language course. Semester is yet to start, and as much as you've studied and practised hard, it's always different when putting it into practice.

"I'm sorry," you laugh. "It's fine—you can order next time!"

But Rae has the exact same predicament as you. If anything, your language skills are better than hers, so you really have no hope. It's vodka-cokes for the evening, or maybe highballs. Once your tipsy brain manages to compute hangul cocktail names, you'll be golden, but that won't be for another few weeks, yet.

You'll look back at this time of your life fondly, realising how simple it all was, even if it feels incredibly overwhelming right now.

Funnily enough, hope is exactly what you have: for the semester ahead, for this new life you're forging, for the opportunities that may come your way.

In fact, by the time you're on your third vodka coke, you've managed to convince yourself you actually like it. You also can't taste it, thanks to the bartender freepouring a 60-40 ratio of vodka to coke in the first drink. Your tastebuds were wiped out pretty much instantly.

Coats in the cloakroom, you're glad to be wearing thin layers. The room is stuffy; your skin sweaty. While meeting new friends had been the goal, you keep to yourself. Dance like nobody is watching. Hold Rae's hands to stay close and ward off weirdos. Quickly realise that clubs back home are slightly different. Pay it no mind. Ignore the intrusions of hands on waists, because men, disappointingly, are no different.

Or at least most of them aren't.

But most of them don't look like the man in the corner booth, laughing with his friends.

Though he is tall, he's eclipsed by his demeanour. Shoulders broad, he's in a dark T-shirt and pair of jeans. Nothing special. Nothing that warrants such a perplexed stare from you - but he's familiar. You can't place him, but he's got the kind of face you swear you've seen before.

Rae doesn't notice the change in your poise, nor how you're desperately trying to work out where you know him from. Perhaps you've seen him around your university? It's only been a couple of weeks, but people are steadily moving in. Maybe he works at the convenience store you constantly find yourself in? Or mans the front desk of the noraebang you and Rae visit pretty much every other evening?

Impossible, you think. If you'd seen him before, you wouldn't have forgotten him, or the way he constantly toys with his lip rings. Plural. There are signs up around the place stating bar rules. NO SMOKING is rule number three. You've seen his friends pass him over a vape a handful of times. Anyone else, and you'd think it was cringe. Embarrassing.

But in the midst of his laughter settling, and a fresh toke being inhaled, his eyes flicker towards yours.

Perhaps it's just because you're drunk, but you don't avert your gaze. Show no shame. The smile on his lips sinks into a smirk as he exhales. An acknowledgement. A 'hello, trouble'.

Again, any other man, you'd find the vape smoke repugnant. Nasty. Now? Watching the way he flicks his tongue against his lip rings?

You wanna know how it tastes.

Black ink weaves an intricate outline of who he is up his arms. Where he's been. Who he's been. A map, if you will, of his soul.

Much like your own tattoos, he's got thick black lines, and little else. Simple, you assume. A man of convenience. Efficiency.

You wonder if he does everything in life with the precision to match his tattoos, and as your lips wrap around the straw of your vodka-coke, you decide you'd quite like to find out.

Interrupted by Rae pulling you deeper into the crowd, your night is spent in and out of shadows. Attempt subtlety. Try not to make your occasional glances to the corner booth noticeable, just checking if his eyes are still on you. More often than not, they aren't—but sometimes they are, and that's enough to fuel your little flirt.

It's not until the sign behind the DJ booth changes from 03:00-04:00, GLOSS into some other guy that you notice your staring contest opponent has slipped into the shadows himself. The booth is void of both him and his friends. Gone.

"GLOSS has a set at another club," Rae all but yells in your ear, and even then, you barely hear her. "All the hotties left when he did. Let's go."

"Where to?!" You laugh, empty cup in hand. Admittedly, the new guy who's stepped into the DJ booth is just not doing it for you. Blu-Tae was just the right amount of unhinged with classics, whereas GLOSS was definitely cooler, but still fun. Had the club yelling curse words over trap remixes just for the fun of it. This new guy, whose name you don't care to remember, takes himself too seriously, you think.

"It's, like, two blocks down," she yells back, tugging on your wrist to drag you to the stairwell that leads you back up to the streets of Seoul. The hustle and bustle of people trying to go in different directions in the tight place forces you apart, but you figure you'll catch up with her, or that she'll be waiting at the top.

You don't know the roads well enough yet to make it to whichever club it's at alone, and quickly realise when you nearly tumble into the side of a waiting taxi that you're far drunker than expected. Knew the bartender was freepouring, but didn't realise just how free those pours really were.

"Woah, easy trouble," a deep voice sounds from behind you as you're steadied to a more stable position.

"I'm good, I'm good!" You insist, shaking off the hands of your 'saviour'. Have no interest in being a damsel in distress, or some sober guy trying to take advantage of you.

Looking down to check your laces are tied properly, you check over your shoulder to make sure the guy isn't creepily waiting for a thank you that he can turn into an intrusive game of 21 questions—'are you open-minded?' or 'do you live alone?'—but when you glance in his direction, you regret it. Notice the tattoos immediately. Recognise the eyes. Want to die.

"Oh."

"Oh," he says back with a smile, imitating you. Suddenly, the confidence you'd had earlier when looking at him from afar dissolves into nothingness, just like the alcohol in your bloodstream. You feel rather sober, but your body would definitely disagree. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, suddenly a little stuck for words, desperately trying to play things cool. "Are you okay?"

The pouting of his lips as his tongue runs along the inside of his cheek only serves to make you internally cringe. Men who look like him have no business being on streets like this. Should be in a museum. Strung up on the walls with the other masterpieces. Admired by everyone who looks his way.

In a way you don't yet realise, he is.

Though he's not in galleries, he's often burning into people's laptop screens. Is the background of a fair few thousand lock screens. Indeed, he is admired by everyone who looks his way, just not in the traditional sense.

"I'm not the one who just fell into a car," he reminds you, as if you could forget your embarrassment so quickly.

"Was just seeing if you'd catch me," you bullshit, the confidence you usually have returning tenfold. Was just a momentary blip. He's just a man, after all.

"Oh?" He chirps, decidedly curious. "So you fell for me?"

"Stumbled."

"Semantics."

His fluency, and the fact he just said 'semantics' so casually in conversation, clues you in on the fact he might be a language student, too.

Could be useful study partners for each other, you think, then mentally berate yourself for already masterminding ways to see him again.

"So, where you going?" He asks, not caring to downplay his curiosity. The bartenders were free-pouring his drinks just as severely as they poured yours. The only difference is that his were on the house—'cause you were right. He does have a recognisable face. "Should probably go with you. Make sure you don't fall into the road."

"Stumble," you insist, a little pleased with the boldness of his suggestion, but not wanting to blindly agree. "My friend," you say glancing around, only to find yourself completely alone. "She wanted to go catch the next GLOSS set. So, I guess that's where we're going."

"Just down the road," he says, knowing the schedule like the back of his hand. Bounces from club to club supporting his friends, just like they would for him. If he wanted, he could get a slot up there, too. He doesn't care for it. "I'll walk with you, if you want? My friends are heading there anyway."

It's not a bad offer.

In fact, it's probably the best offer you'll get all night.

"C'mon," he nods his head to the side, encouraging you to follow him. Checks his phone for the time. "Starts in five."

If there's one thing you've indulged in since moving to Seoul, it's how safe you always feel. Security cameras are on every corner, and you've walked home countless times without any issues, even late into the night. While the place isn't perfect, it's far safer than your home country.

Still, you're not a complete idiot.

"It's not wise to follow strange men down dark alleys," you tell him.

He holds out his hand. Waits for you to shake it. Cocks a brow when you hesitate, so introduces himself.

"Jungkook. Nice to meet you. Now, can we please hurry up? I promised I'd be there."

Narrowing your eyes, you don't shake his hand. Arms folded over your chest, there is ice to your exterior, and given how warm his eyes are, you doubt it'll last for very long. May as well keep up this hard-to-get act while you still can.

Walking on past him, you call back, "Alright then. Lead the way."

In the domed mirror meant for reversing cars at the end of a tight alley, you see him laugh. "Wrong way, idiot."

Pausing, you scrunch your face up. Don't turn to face him for at least a second or so—but when you do, you're surprised to see him walking towards you. Hooking his arm around your waist, he carries on walking in the 'wrong' direction, taking you with him.

"Was just fucking with you," he grins. Nods towards a sign by another basement entrance, listing both Blu-Tae and GLOSS.

By the door, Rae is looking around like a mother duck who's just lost some of her ducklings when crossing the road. Breathes a sigh of relief when she spots you.

"C'mon," she grins, then realises who you're with. Says nothing of it, 'cause she doesn't want to be weird, but she recognises him, too. Decides she's just had a little too much to drink. There's no way it's him. Holds out her hand for you.

Reaching out for her, you're let go from Jungkook's grip, ready to get lost in the lights once more.

HAEJANG24 WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE SATURDAY 05:53

Seoul is a city for the nocturnal. The restaurants and bars are open until the last men are standing. Given how much you've had to drink, you're surprised you still are.

Rae had dipped an hour or so ago. Had hit it off with Mr Blu-Tae himself. Seduced him with the suggestion that their couple name would be Blu-Rae. He'd said they should go to a DVD-bang. Would be fitting. See what Blu-rays were on file.

Naturally, you'd looked on with mild disgust and also admiration for how quickly she'd worked her magic. Everyone knows what goes down in DVD-bangs. Small private rooms, often with projector screens and the world's least comfortable futons, they're somewhere you hope to never end up—but also can't wait to hear all the details the next morning when Rae comes to your room for a debrief.

You'd been left under the surveillance of Jungkook.

"Look after her," Rae had instructed, then narrowed her eyes. "Or I'll destroy your reputation with a single twitter thread, Tokki."

It's a threat he's taken seriously. Knows how the internet works, and even though he's never done anything worthy of a cancellation, he also doesn't intend on starting now. The fact you seem to have no idea who he is during the daylight hours intrigues him. It's a rarity on streets like these.

Even when a few people asked for pictures with him on your walk to the hangover soup place, you didn't clock it as weird. Figured they were friends passing by, wanting to document their chance run-in. Just another memory of the night. The way Jungkook had greeted them was full of warmth, and kindness. Why wouldn't you assume they were mates?

You were also still incredibly drunk at the time, so didn't think to question it. Was keen for food, and Jungkook had insisted on hangover soup, and so that's where you are. Dishes nearly empty, far more of it eaten by him than you, you're laughing about nothing and everything all at once.

"Right," Jungkook declares, deciding he cannot hold in a question that's been tickling at his brain for the entire meal. "What the fuck is that?"

Coat left in the cloakroom, long forgotten about, your tattoos are on full display for him, just like his are for you. Up your arm they trail; a patchwork of teeny tiny identifiers. Latin phrases around skulls, birth flowers of the people you hold close, butterflies and stars. There's an ode to your favourite musician and your favourite Shakespeare quote, too. The fabric of you etched into your skin. There's no reinventing yourself, even half the world away from home.

You know precisely which tattoo Jungkook is asking about. You've asked yourself the same question a few times.

"Fuck off," you laugh.

While most of your tattoos are gorgeous, there's one that was done by a rogue artist on a girlie holiday a few years ago. What was supposed to be a seashell now looks like... well, nothing really. It's just a blob, thanks to the artist being absolutely terrible. The only solace you find in it is that your two best friends have an equally awful permanent reminder of that holiday on their bodies, too.

"It doesn't look how it's supposed to," you explain with a little pout. "I got royally screwed over."

He cocks a brow. You still haven't told him what it is. He isn't gonna ask you twice.

With a grumble, you feebly admit, "A shell."

And then he's laughing. Really laughing. Laughing so hard you think he might piss himself—which you'd actually prefer, because then he could be the embarrassed one, instead.

"I'm calling you Shelly from now on," he says with a broad smile. Has had his fair share of tattoo blunders, and knows you must've developed an affection towards how shitty it is. Would have gotten it covered up, otherwise. "That's incredible."

"You're calling me so such thing," you assure him, but you also can't help but laugh.

"I am," he tells you, then really solidifies it. "Shelly."

"Fuck off," you whine, doubling down. Scanning his arms, you try and pick out anything you can use against him, too. "If I'm Shelly, then you're Mike."

"Mike?!" He protests.

"Yeah," you insist, pointing towards the microphone on his forearm. "Mike."

"You are not calling me Mike. Do I look like a Mike?!"

"Do I look like a Shelly?!"

You've got a point. It's not the name he would have first associated with you - but it is cute, he thinks. Cute how mortified you seem. Cute how you can't help but smile.

After a little bit of back and forth, it's decided that neither of you look like your namesakes.

"Y'know, we kinda have matching tattoos," he says, holding out his arm for you to study. "Or at least, the placements."

And sure enough, below his elbow lives the outline of a bunny sitting on a crescent moon. Holding your own arm out next to his, below your elbow is a butterfly. Above it, is a teeny tiny moon.

Like Jungkook's moon, it's a crescent. Was supposed to symbolise new beginnings. You wonder what his means, but don't ask. Instead, you marvel at the coincidence of it all.

He presses his index finger against the butterfly on the inside of your forearm. The echoing chatter of the restaurant fades softly into nothingness as he says, "Nabi."

You nod. Even if you have spoken with him in English this entire time, it's nice to hear him speak in his mother tongue, no matter how minimal - so you reciprocate. Press your index finger against his bunny. Smile. Say, "Tokki."

It further confirms to Jungkook that you have no idea who he is. Has been a while since he's met a girl in a circumstance like this where that's the case. Likes the anonymity of it all. Is hiding his identity from you, and yet hasn't felt such vulnerability for years.

"Daltokki, right?" You continue, not wanting the silence to linger for too long. "The rabbit in the moon?"

You're not wrong, but you're also not entirely right.

"Yeah," he smiles regardless. "That's it."

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 07:12

"Shhh," Jungkook quietly laughs.

His hand is over your mouth and the other is on your hip as he guides you into his apartment. With your back to his chest, you've both been giggling for the entire ride to his place.

He had insisted that he should walk you home, and was surprised by the offense you seemed to have taken by this. You then told him that he absolutely could not seduce you, and that it was very gender-role-conforming for him to think that you were incapable of getting home by yourself.

"Maybe I should be the one to make sure you get home safely," you had said with a false sense of concern, which had made him laugh quite considerably.

In all reality, you didn't mind him offering to get you home. You just hadn't tidied your room. Didn't really expect to be taking a boy back to your place, much less one that looks like him.

Together, you'd caught the early morning bus over to Itaewon instead of a taxi, 'cause you're still on a student budget and Jungkook wasn't quite ready to blow his cover just yet.

You've been teasing him—questioning his status as a potential International Super Spy—ever since he took your hand and guided you into one of the flashiest apartment complexes you've ever been in. There was security. Doormen. A passcode for the elevator—not to mention that he was heading up to the seventh floor once you were in it. Might not sound like much, but when there are only seven floors to the entire building, it makes it the penthouse by default.

"It's not a penthouse," he'd insisted. "Plus, I live with friends. Only pay a third of the rent."

But a third of his rent is more money than you'll probably see in three months of post-grad work. You're drunk, but you're not stupid. You also know that the rental market here differs significantly from your home country. Monthly rent is cheap, but the deposits are extortionate. Sure, he'll get it back when he leaves, but to have the initial money needed for a place like this? He's not a regular student, if one at all, that much is sure.

"Not sure who's home," Jungkook whispers as you both kick your shoes off in the entryway. Given the looks of the other shoes, it's clear that this is a guys-only living situation. You're proven right when he continues, "Betcha Tae's still in that damn DVD-bang, but Yoongi might be back."

"Yoongi?" You question.

"GLOSS," Jungkook says, remembering how oblivious you are to who he is. Reaching down to grab your shoes, he isn't gonna leave them by the door. Will take them to his room. Doesn't want the boys asking questions, if they are in. Knows they'll just use it as an excuse to publicly roast him whenever they're next online together.

Given that a stream is scheduled for Sunday night, he doesn't want to tempt fate.

Their current choice of wind-up, which the viewers have been eating up, is the joke that Jungkook is a virgin. He's not, but he never knows how to defend himself without sounding like a tool, so always gets a little awkward. A lot of their viewers love it. Join in on the joke. Some take it seriously. He doesn't care.

Next month, Taehyung will do something dumb, and he'll become the favourite joke for a while. Maybe Yoongi. But for now, it's Jungkook.

None of them take it to heart. They're just a group of friends who share their gaming hangouts online, and accidentally made it to the top of the ranks.

They aren't particularly good at gaming, but that's part of the charm. Crescent Collective is how they're known: Blu-Tae, GLOSS and Tokki.

After a bet went wrong, and they all lost, they ended up with moon tattoos and their respective 'symbols'. Jungkook's is a rabbit, Tae's is a blu-ray DVD disk (because he really is committed to the bit), and Yoongi's is stars to symbolise the shine of fresh gloss. Jungkook's makes the most sense. Yoongi's is pretty decent. Taehyung's is just... Well, it's very him.

Sliding open the door into the main living area, Jungkook has to cover your mouth again when you gasp at the sheer size of the place.

"I thought butterflies were supposed to be silent?" He teases. "Quiet for me, Nabi."

His place is bigger than your family home, you think. Hushing you again, he's laughing—and then he's cursing at the sight of a half-naked Yoongi by the kitchen counter.

In his boxers, with half a clementine slice hanging from his lips, he's just as shocked to see Jungkook with you. Gets over it pretty quickly.

"Don't mind me," he says, chewing down on the fruit with a smirk. Looks towards you. "Apologies for the lack of clothes."

With your shoes hooked on his fingers, Jungkook's other large hand is still over your mouth. You're not sure you can form any words as it is, but you do notice the crescent moon and stars on Yoongi's ribs.

"Not a word to Tae," is all Jungkook says. Knows that he'll be in for a world of teasing tomorrow if he gets wind of it. "I mean it."

Holding his hands up, Yoongi's still smirking, but he is backing away into a room just off the kitchen. "My lips are sealed."

Watching as he closes the door, you wonder how much truth is in his words. Jungkook knows it's absolute bullshit. Chooses not to dwell on it. Loosens his grip on you and heads towards his own room. Turns back to check you're following him, and can't help but smile when he knows that you are.

Tossing your shoes just inside the door, Jungkook is quick to pick up a pair of jeans he'd left on the floor, before chucking them over his desk chair. He tweaks his bedding. Straightens it out. Looks a little shy as he turns to face you.

"Made it home safe," he says quietly, as you close the door behind you.

You nod. Keep a little distance. Say, "It's dangerous to sleep after drinking. Make sure you build a tower of pillows in the middle of your bed so you don't roll onto your back."

Both of you are far more sober than you were earlier. There's no need to worry about anything like that.

And yet he nods, now. Says, "You're probably right. You can always stay, though. Just to check I don't die in my sleep, or whatever."

"It'd be the responsible thing to do," you nod, wondering if he can tell just how fast your heart is beating. "But I don't have any pyjamas."

Jungkook swallows. The way he looks at you now is entirely different to how he'd looked at you in the club. Back then, he'd been bold. Flirtatious.

Now, he seems vulnerable. Needy.

"I sleep in my underwear," he tells you, unsure if you'll actually be sleeping. While he likes the idea of fucking you, part of him doesn't want to. Fears it'll ruin the magic of the unknown. The way he throbs at the mere thought of it would suggest that his hopes outweigh his fears. "I don't mind, if you don't."

The clothes Jungkook's wearing are baggy. You've seen nothing of his figure.

Reaching for the nape of his neck, he tugs on the fabric of his T-shirt. Pulls it over his head and discards it in one swift movement. The sound of it crumpling on the floor is abrasive in how it makes you feel. Raw. Unrefined. You suppose it's just a natural consequence of seeing the toned muscles of his chest. How his waist defies what you thought was possible for masculine builds, and how broad his chest is. The indent of his collarbones, and the lines of his pelvis that draw your eyes downwards.

A pair of Calvins peek just above the waistband of his jeans, and a silver chain rests around his neck. Light from the city filters in, and LED lights around his impressive computer set-up paint him in a hue of violet.

"No," you manage to reply, which is a miracle, you think. "I don't mind."

And then you reciprocate. Reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, letting the fabric fall to the floor. Seeing him swallow back his nerves, or maybe his desires, makes you feel far bolder than you should.

"It's really uncomfortable to sleep in jeans," you tell him.

He nods. Agrees. Threads the button of his trousers through its loop. Doesn't take them off yet. Waits for you to do the same. Keeps his eyes firmly locked on yours. Doesn't let his gaze wander, no matter how much he has to fight all his instincts not to fully take you in. Is still pretending like he doesn't want you in the most indecent of ways.

The room you're in right now is known worldwide.

People set it as their zoom backgrounds. It's on Pinterest. There are YouTube videos attempting to recreate the set-up. If he were to power up his computer—which, in all fairness, is only on standby—and go live, there'd be a thousand viewers within minutes. Doesn't matter what he plays, or who he's with. He doesn't give it much thought anymore. Is just life.

Sometimes, he regrets not being a faceless streamer, but he also knows that it's part of the appeal. Connection, and the fantasy that comes with this almost dystopian, parasocial idea of it.

After all, the meeting of his eyes with yours across a busy club led you to this point. Human connection in the simplest of ways, that he thinks could culminate in the most complex of ways, too.

"Okay," he says. "So take them off."

"You want me to?" You ask just to tease a little bit, and when a smile flickers onto his seemingly nervous lips, you're glad you did.

"You think we'd be here right now if I didn't?" He says with a tweak of his brows.

"You've got a point."

With that, you push your jeans down and reveal the matching set of black underwear you're in. It's nothing special. In fact, it's not really a set, but it's close enough that it'd fool anyone who didn't know.

Jungkook, in this moment, is indeed a beautiful fool.

There's a lopsided grin on his face as he lets his eyes rake down your body. Is shameless as he indulges in you. Nods, as he bites down on his bottom lip.

"It's cold," you tell him, urging him along a little bit.

"Shit," he says without much thought. "Sorry. Was just... Yeah. Shit."

It's both endearing and wholly confusing how Jungkook flips from confident to cute. A man of duality. It makes you giggle, and then you're the one biting down on your bottom lip. Are both a little bashful. A little shy.

"I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep," you remind him before it goes any further.

Looking at him now, knowing you want him in the worst of ways, it's testing all of your willpower not to just cut to the chase.

Thing is, you liked his company tonight. Want it again. Want to give him a reason to seek you out once more. Want him thinking about you in clubs, and looking for you in crowded bars. Pining. Yearning. Needy.

"It's already gone seven," he tells you, walking towards his bed. Knocks his head to the side. Silently tells you to follow suit. "Will probably only get a couple hours in."

"Better than nothing. Plus, you're actually really irritating," you bullshit as you get into bed with him. Are adamant you won't fuck him, but you do let him pull you in closer.

"Oh, yeah?" He grins.

"Mhmm," you nod, pretending as if you aren't looking at his lips. "You'll be less annoying when you're asleep."

"I'm never gonna sleep again," he assures you. "Will annoy you forever."

"I know where the front door is," you say as you stroke a few of his loose, wavy hairs back behind his ears. They fall freely almost right away, but it just gives you another excuse to play with it "I can just leave. I'm only here to make sure you don't die in your sleep. Pointless if you're awake."

"So I have to be asleep for you to stay?"

"Mhmm," you hum.

He immediately loosens his grip on you and flops into an overdramatic sleeping position. Fake snores. Gets you giggling. Can't hide his smile, either. Laughs through the god-awful noises he's making.

But it is late, and you're both tired. As much as he'd like to stay awake with you, the pull of sleep is just too tempting now that you're beneath his sheets. It's not like he doesn't wanna fuck you. His semi is very much present, but neither of you mention it.

"Y'know what's sad about butterflies?" Jungkook mumbles after the laughter dies down. He carefully begins to trace the lines of your tattoo, eyes entirely focused on the tip of his finger.

You purr a response before you fully vocalise one. "Tell me."

He glances up at you only very momentarily. Looks back down. Is quiet when he says, "How quickly they die. Spend over half their lifespan growing into these beautiful creatures, and then they have, what—A week? Two? Three, tops—and then they're gone. It's like the cherry blossoms in spring. Beautiful, and then—" He clicks his fingers. "—gone."

Stroking back some loose strands of his hair, you wonder if he's thinking about you. About this chance encounter. Beautiful, then gone.

"Just means you have to appreciate them while they're still around," you say softly. "Cherish them, because you know you only have them for a moment."

His gaze lifts to meet yours. The reflection of his LED lights makes it seem like butterflies are floating around in his deep, dark eyes, too.

There are stories he could tell you of ancient folklore; about human souls taking the form of butterflies. Of justice, and peace, and spirits. Of back in time, when tigers still smoked. He could tell you of his favourite butterflies. Of the black butterflies that are as large as his hands in the summer. Of the huge display in a museum downtown that would transfix him as a child.

Instead, he gently presses his lips against the lines of your butterfly tattoo.

The rate at which your heart is beating multiplies. Like a swarm of butterflies chasing through your veins, you've no control over the way you're feeling. He's brought your artwork to life; set the souls inside of your butterfly free, only for it to be apparent that the souls belonged to the both of you, anyway.

You know that this is one of those moments; a butterfly passing on by through your lives. Here, and then gone. Beautiful, but fleeting.

There's a shyness to Jungkook now, as he rolls onto his back. A reluctance to get things wrong. He doesn't look at you, just nibbles on his bottom lip and pretends as if the empty white ceiling ahead of him is the most interesting thing he's seen all night.

It's not.

You are.

You, and those eyes that make him feel like the butterfly on your arm is tickling at his tummy. He finds himself jealous when he faces you again and begins tracing the thin lines of your butterfly once more. Wants to embed himself into you like the ink that's carved out a home in your skin.

"Sorry," he mumbles, seemingly regretful of the tender kiss he'd pressed against your arm just a short moment ago. "Don't know why I did that."

"It's okay," you reply without much thought. Like him, you're letting the way you feel dictate the words you say. Care not for playing coy. "I liked it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Jungkook wants to stop his mouth from letting his desires escape. The issue is, he drank a little too much tonight and his lips are a little too loose. Too bad. Can't help himself from asking, "Can I do it again?"

You're just as bad.

"Yeah," you whisper. "Please."

The way his lashes splay against his cheeks as he presses another kiss to your arm is nothing short of celestial. Like that damn moon on his arm, he's got a beauty about him that's hard to capture in words. Ethereal feels too fantastical, but gorgeous feels too dense. He resides in a realm somewhere between the two. Somewhere you'd like to stay forever.

Forever, sadly, only lasts a few hours. You've brunch plans with new friends you can't bail on yet for fear of running a friendship before it's even begun.

You see yourself out. Jungkook's still asleep. Not quite 10AM, you've a dozen missed calls from Rae, and a cold can of coke waiting for you in your fridge. Funnily enough, though, you don't really feel hungover. Must have gotten it all out of your system the night before.

It's only fitting, when you think about Jungkook on the subway home, and how soberingly drunk the idea of him makes you feel.

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:39

Brunch had, predictably, been a yawn-fest.

The people were perfectly nice, but you spent the entire time thinking about Jungkook; how you'd left him in a pretty slumber, the LEDs behind his computer still glowing, with not even so much as a note to say thank you.

It's not like he had any paper on his desk, and you weren't about to start rummaging around his room. You also didn't want to wake him. Part of it was because you knew you'd be saying goodbye, and the concept of that was one that you didn't like all that much.

And so your subway ride back to your dorm had been spent searching his name. He didn't take long to find.

From the club's Instagram, you found GLOSS and quickly discovered that there was far more to both him and Blu-Tae than just being DJs. Their follower counts were wild. Numbers you know you'll never see on your own account. Verification check marks accented their display names.

Who are you? You'd thought to yourself, incredibly perplexed by it all.

Jungkook was littered all over their pages, and yet it still took a while for you to click through to his account. You're not sure why, but think that perhaps the unknown was a nice place to reside within. Safer.

CR3SC3NT_T0KK1 was his username—and curiously, Tokki was also his display name. Brows furrowed, you'd almost dropped your phone when you saw his follower count. It eclipsed both of his friends.

Filled with gaming set-ups, merch drops, and general life dumps, it was pretty clear that whoever Jungkook had made himself out to be the night before was not who he was in real life.

Equal parts offended and intrigued, you were only more confused when you saw that Rae was already following him—but not following Taehyung.

"What?" she'd beamed when you'd asked her about it after you'd arrived home from brunch, a scoop of hangover ice cream being waved around in the air with her flamboyant gestures. "He's, like, one of the biggest streamers in the country—and if I want to keep Tae obsessed with me, we need as many connections as possible. Jungkook's a frog to me, baby, not a prince. Don't you worry your little cotton socks. I'm not after him."

"I wouldn't care if you were," you'd blatantly lied in response, and then you'd giggled together at how ridiculous you were both being over boys you didn't really know.

Hovering over the bright purple 'JOIN STREAM' button later that evening, part of you holds back. Think it'd be weird. Strange. That he'd somehow know it was you.

Dipping your mouse, you tick the checkbox to join as an anonymous viewer. Take a breath. Think fuck it. Watch with bated breath as the loading wheel turns—and then he's there.

Jeon Jungkook has the kind of beauty that transcends shitty quality streams. Smiling as he jokes with one of his friends through a headset with a pair of black bunny ears affixed to the top of them, you hear a voice you almost recognise. Notice the friend he's streaming with in the top corner. Realise you do know him, too.

Hair as blue as the trees are green, Tae has just as much boyish charm as Jungkook, but also an incredibly large hickey that seems to match the ones on Rae's neck.

"Nah, can we get an L in the chat for Kook," he's teasing. Sure enough, the chat begins to explode with the letter, and Jungkook looks so pretty when he protests.

"It's not an L!"

"It is!" Tae insists. "Should have seen him, guys. Was following this girl around like a lovesick puppy—"

"No, I wasn't!"

"And she didn't even give him her number. Not even her name!"

"That's not true!" Jungkook whines. He switches between Korean and English with ease, sometimes just single words, other times whole sentences. "I have a name."

"What is it?"

"Not telling you."

"Cause you don't have one!"

"No, because you'll all make my life a living hell," Jungkook laughs—and then notices a bright blue comment lighting up in the chat. His eyes widen. "Fuck."

GLOSS: Was calling her Nabi when he got home last night Almost shit his pants when he saw me

"Yoongi, I'm gonna shave your eyebrows off in your sleep," Jungkook growls—only for the chat to start spamming butterfly emojis. Closing his eyes, he leans back in his chair, the still paused video game long forgotten about, now. Thousands of people are in their chat, and even more are watching the stream.

"Guys, get it trending," Taehyung goads. "Tweet, I dunno, bunny and butterfly emojis."

"Don't do that!"

"Hashtag find Jungkook's butterfly."

"Do NOT do that!"

"I'm like a modern-day cupid," Taehyung beams.

"I'm shaving your eyebrows, too."

Closing the stream, you sit for a moment, mouth ajar, unable to process what on earth you've just witnessed. Part of you feels as if it must have an incredibly vivid daydream; a projection of your heart's desire.

And you know you shouldn't, but when you get home from running errands the following day, you join the stream again. Blush when you notice the chat is still teasing Jungkook.

"I'm gonna block you all," he threatens them with a grin, which only encourages them to send even more butterfly emojis.

The next day is no different, nor the day after that.

He is, though. Has been letting it all play on his mind. Doesn't have much of a filter when it comes to streaming.

"What if she didn't even like me, guys," he whines to the chat. "And sees this and is like... mortified. I think I'd punch myself in the face if she ever saw any of this."

You toy with the idea of sending a comment into the chat. Something that only he'd realise was you. Thing is, you feel bad for intruding. As if you shouldn't be prying. As if you're eavesdropping on him chatting with friends, and not on the stream he's broadcasting live around the world.

Typing out a message, you deliberate your choice.

Punch urself in the face pls, tokki x the message reads.

Simple. Effective. To the point.

But everyone calls him that, you stupidly realise, now.

And so you change the name to 'Mike'.

Before you can even really realise what you've done, you've pressed send.

The message flitters into the chat feed. He's about to resume his game. Doesn't notice it at first.

Gives the chat one final glance, and then his eyes widen. He sits up taller. Straighter. "Mike?"

You close the lid of your laptop immediately.

"Fuck."

THE STREETS WAUSAN-RO, HONGDAE FRIDAY 23:51

"Tae is on in five," Rae squeals, dragging you down the road at lightning speed.

You'd spent far too long at dinner, and also had far too much to drink with your food, so have been forced to make an undignified sprint to the club in an attempt to make it in before the place reaches capacity.

There's already a queue. You can see it from a mile away.

Realistically, Rae could have gotten Taehyung to add her to the guest list. He'd offered. She didn't wanna look needy, so had played it coy about her plans for the evening.

After a single beer and soju, she'd decided that the idea of him hooking up with anyone but her simply wouldn't do.

"Shit," she sighs in defeat, looking at the queue. The direction you've come from means that you reach the entrance before you reach the queue, but even then, you can tell it goes around the block. "Are there no other clubs these people can go to?!"

There are—but this club is rammed tonight for the same reason Club Sundown was rammed the week before. People want to see the Crescent Collective.

You didn't realise it at the time, but you'd bypassed the queue of the second club last weekend because Jungkook had been with you.

And as if by a stroke of luck, or perhaps a twist of fate, the same tattooed hand that had held you as you slept last weekend is now putting out a cigarette just a few steps away.

Eyes landing on yours, he looks away again, almost immediately. Feels embarrassed. Stupid. For the way you left him, and also for the way he knows you must know who he is, now.

Behind a red rope, he's away from the general crowd. It's sort of obnoxious, you think—but also know Jungkook is anything but.

"They're with me," Jungkook says to the bouncer, not really looking at you, but nodding in your general direction. Is deliberately keeping a little distance. Instead, he says to Rae, "Tae wouldn't want you waiting in line."

Nodding, the security guard makes way for you, stamping the backs of your hands with UV-activated ink as you walk past.

"Thank you!" Rae beams.

"No worries," Jungkook smiles right back. "He's about to start. Was just getting air. You're lucky you arrived when you did."

"Angel," she praises. "I'll get you a drink while we're in there."

You know her well enough now to know that she absolutely will not, but you don't say anything. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest as you walk, suddenly feeling all awkward in Jungkook's presence.

"Nabi," he curtly greets you as you head down the stairs.

"Tokki," you greet him back just as formally. Consider calling him 'Mike' instead, but you chicken out.

Face scrunching up, Jungkook tries his best not to cringe at himself. Doesn't know if you're addressing him by his tattoo moniker, or just calling him Tokki because you know it's his identifier online.

"How have you been?" He asks, not wanting to let it simmer.

"Alright," you say, aware of how awkward this all feels, as you descend the stairs and into the club. The music is getting louder, and soon you won't be able to hear him talk unless you're in each other's ears. "And you?"

"Alright."

Just as quickly as he appeared, Jungkook is lost to the crowd.

He doesn't care to stick around if he's just going to be hung out to dry by you again. He tells himself that he only made sure you got in to keep Rae happy for Taehyung's sake—yet as he rejoins his friends in their booth, he finds himself desperately seeking you out again.

It takes him a while, but he eventually spots you by the bar in conversation with Rae. He can't make out what you're saying, but notices how your eyes are flickering around the room. Seems as if you're hunting for something.

Deep down, even if he pretends like he doesn't, he hopes it's for him.

Pulled away from your search by the bartender passing over drinks to the pair of you, Jungkook feels bad. Knows the drinks are pricey in this place. Also knows, from the conversations you've already had, that you're on a tight budget. Had said that once the semester starts, you'll stop going to parties. Are seemingly unaware of the fact the parties never stop in this city. You'll learn.

When your eyes finally land on his a little while later, you're surprised by his intense gaze—intrigued by his lack of shame for being caught out. He doesn't look away or appear embarrassed. If anything, it's quite the opposite.

Girls are vying for his attention all around him, yet you receive all of it. Half the room away, hundreds of people create a sea between you both. Jungkook thinks he'd swim through it, no matter how choppy the water, if it meant he could have you right now.

You're the one who left, though.

It's up to you to come back.

Part of you doesn't want to, but then you see another girl making advances, and Rae's horror over other girls trying it on with Taehyung seems to have rubbed off on you. The idea of it makes your skin crawl. You're drunk, and a little reactive, but Jungkook likes playing with fire.

As you work your way through the crowd towards him, he tries his best not to grin. Finds himself vindicated in his desire to be close to you, 'cause it seems like you want it, too.

Sliding in between Jungkook and the girl, you turn and apologise.

"Just need to borrow him for a second," you smile, clutching at his shirt and pulling him away from the booth before she even has a chance to protest.

With an ever-so-satisfied smirk, Jungkook shrugs towards the other girl, and lets you drag him wherever you want. He's putty in your hands, a little tipsy and desperately in need of attention from you.

For the past week, he's played scenario over scenario over scenario in his head about this moment, and now that it's happening, he's glad he let you seek him out. Is so pleased that you actively want him just as much as he wants you.

In the middle of the crowd, you're hidden from prying eyes. It's too dark to notice any discerning features of the people around you, yet somehow, Jungkook seems like a vibrant golden light to you. Impossible to miss. Unable to ignore.

You wanna talk. Ask him about who the fuck he is. Explain that you didn't mean to leave so heartlessly.

Taehyung's set is so overwhelmingly loud, though. Can barely even hear yourself think.

As soon as he'd spotted Rae in the crowd, Taehyung had sent the bar coordinator to go and get her. She's sitting pretty up in the DJ booth, incredibly pleased with herself. Notices you and Jungkook almost immediately. Knows it'll be on Twitter in the next few hours, especially if that damn butterfly tattoo of yours is noticed.

Bunnies and butterflies have been trending for days.

Jungkook speaks, but you can't hear him.

"Huh?" You ask, getting on your tippy toes, but it's fruitless. Even as his hand drops to your waist to steady you and keep you in place, you can barely make out his words. "I can't hear you!"

He can't hear jack shit, either. Frowns. Looks around. Spots Yoongi by the booth and gestures towards the side of the room. When Yoongi nods back, it's Jungkook who drags you through the crowd, now. Just beyond the DJ booth is a little black door that Yoongi meets you by. Taps in the code. Nods in your direction.

"A pleasure," he says with a knowing smirk. Miraculously, you can hear him, but ultimately, it's because you're not in the direct line of the speakers now.

You don't get a chance to respond before Jungkook gets you into what can only described as a dark hole as quickly as he can. Romance, you think to yourself, but you also are very aware of the fact Jungkook doesn't let go of your hand, even when he's searching for the light switch. It takes him a second, but he manages to recall the approximate location quickly enough.

Dingy yellow light floods into the room. Small and boxy, it's a 3-in-1 storage room, bathroom, and dressing room for 'talent'. It's why Yoongi had the code, but you can't imagine anyone with any shred of self-respect actually using this place. The walls are the same grey tiles as the floor, and the light bulb hangs from a wire without a shade. The tap on the sink drips, and you're pretty sure there's a leak in the far corner by the mirror.

None of that matters, though. All you can focus on is the man in front of you. Though not soundproof, the room does offer a far more muted version of Taehyung's set. More importantly, it provides you with privacy.

It's been a week since you last saw him, face to face.

Though you have, admittedly, seen him what feels like a million times on low-quality streams from his bedroom.

Realistically, it's been about three times, but you think about it almost constantly.

"You left," is all he says, a little pout on his lips.

It's cute, you think, that he is so outwardly offended by such an act. You would have thought that a man of his position would have a habit of leaving, himself. Then again, you didn't know of his status when you left him in bed that morning.

"And you didn't die," you reply with a teasing smile, trying not to make it sound so severe. "You were fine without me."

"I'm not joking," he says, even if he can't help but smile at the recollection of how stupid the conversation before bed had been. "You left. It was rude."

"I had brunch plans," you tell him, reaching your hands out for his. He wants to resist. Fails. Lets you pull him closer. Incredibly close, in fact. So close that you begin to notice all sorts of things. His freckles. A small scar on his cheek. A tiny fleck of glitter on his skin, no doubt from one of the girls who had been desperate for his attention earlier. "You'd only had a few hours sleep. I didn't want to disturb you."

"Could have left a note," he says, still pouty but far quieter. You can smell the Jack on his breath. Have always hated the taste, but think you could grow to like it. "Your number. Something, at least."

"I could've," you admit, edging even closer. Closing the gap. Nudging your nose against his. But then you smile. Pull back. Tease, "And you could have warned me that I'd become a trending topic on Twitter."

Just like that, Jungkook's pout snaps into the prettiest smile. His face scrunches up, lines creasing on his nose. Beneath his closed eyes reside the sweetest little puffs. He's got the kind of face that is impossible not to like.

"Ah," he cringes.

"Yeah," you laugh at the stupidity of it all. What did he expect? That you wouldn't find out? "Ah."

"In my defence," he holds his hands up, eyes wide and innocent. "You called me Tokki. How was I to know you didn't know?"

"Oh, give over," you laugh, as he reaches for your hands once again. Pulls you closer. "You know I didn't know."

Truthfully, he does know this, but it was nice to be unknown for a little while. Nice to not second guess your intentions. Even now, knowing that you know, he feels like none of it matters.

"Look," he begins, toying with the hem of your cropped shirt. Lets his fingertips graze your bare skin. Tries his best not to think about what you look like half-naked. Fails. "I only came out tonight 'cause I hoped I'd see you. I don't care about staying out till ass-o'clock, again."

"Think I've only just caught up on sleep," you hum, angling your chin up and giving him the perfect opportunity to make a move that goes beyond flirtatious touches.

"Exactly," he smiles, letting his hand squeeze the side of your waist. Pulls you closer. "And I've not drunk half as much tonight, but I think I could do with you making sure I don't die, again."

"Yeah?"

Nodding as he nudges his nose against yours, Jungkook is all smiles. Lets his lips line up against your pout.

"Yeah," he mumbles—then lets the word get lost in your lips.

Sinking into what it feels like to kiss you, Jungkook can't help but feel satisfaction. Has finally caught the damn butterfly he's been after all week.

He's played a lot of games. Won a lot of battles.

And yet victory has never tasted so sweet.

JUNGKOOK'S APARTMENT ITAEWON-DONG, YONGSAN-GU SATURDAY 02:07

You retrace your steps. Get a taxi to his place, 'cause there's no point pretending like he can't afford it. Not anymore.

You're not giggling like you were the first time you were in his elevator, but it's kind of impossible to do so when your back is to the wall and Jungkook's tongue is in your mouth.

Your hands roam his body—waist, ass. If you can squeeze it, you will. Just makes him deepen the kisses. If his large hands weren't cupping your jaw, keeping you close, they'd be doing the exact same thing as yours.

The ding of the elevator pulls you apart just for a second, and then you're the one pulling him down to the corridor to his place.

He doesn't open the door. Just kisses you again.

Finally understands what it means to get butterflies, 'cause he's got you, now, and he never wants to lose it.

Hooking his hands beneath your ass, he hoists you up. Gets your legs wrapped around him. Could go in, but where's the fun in that? There's a slight danger of getting caught. He knows the hallway security cameras will definitely pick this up. The threat that it could get leaked online, and the simple fact that he couldn't give a shit if it does, is kind of hot.

"I'm not fucking you out here," you tell him through a hushed giggle, when he rests his forehead against yours.

"Woah," he jokes. "Who said anything about fucking?"

"I can literally feel your boner, Jungkook."

"Touché."

He doesn't even attempt to downplay it. He puts you down. Gets you through the threshold of his apartment. Shoes off by the door, there's no need to be quiet. Yoongi and Taehyung are still out, and will be for hours. He could take his time if he really wanted.

But what he wants is you. Doesn't waste time. Gets you in his room. Kinda feels like you never left. Jungkook still wishes you hadn't, but doesn't mind the idea of you making it up to him now.

"So," you hum, trailing your fingertips across his desk. "This is where the magic happens?"

He smiles a little bashfully, head dropping for a moment before his eyes are on yours again. "Yeah. You could say that."

Now that you're back in his space, it's a little embarrassing just how many clues there were. A headset rests on the desk—black, robust, with his signature bunny ears secured on top—and a mic is hooked up by the monitor. The webcam doesn't look special, but the keyboard subtly glows in his darkened room. Violet, like the LEDs behind his screen.

A laptop covered in vinyl stickers is closed next to the set-up. He uses it when he's not streaming on his desktop. At least three of the stickers are of the Crescent Collective's logo.

Turning to fully face him, you rest your palms behind yourself and perch on the edge of the desk.

He gets a little kick out of seeing you so flippantly disregard the domain in which he dominates. Gives him a point to prove. Gets him closing the space between you, hands on your waist, dipping to your ass to leverage further back on his desk. Knows it's sturdy, 'cause he built it himself, but has never tested out quite how strong it really is. Thinks now's as good a time as any to find out.

Your legs wrap around his body with no thought, just the innate understanding that you want him in a way you're sure thousands of people have only dreamt of: in his room, on his desk, that damn 'Go Live' button just a few short clicks away.

Reaching beside you, there's a smirk on your lips as you retrieve his headset. Put it on him. Say, "The ears are cute, Tokki."

He rolls his eyes. Is fighting a smile, and currently losing. He's seen some lewd shit during his time on the internet and is well aware of the fanart that includes the ears and little else. Always found it kinda funny, before.

Now? He's so hard it almost hurts, and he thinks he could grow to like it.

As your arms drape over his shoulders, he takes them off. Puts them on you, instead. Adjusts the sizing. Gets them just right for you. Is attentive, like that. Pulls his head back a little, and then realises what a problem you're gonna be for him.

It's not so much the addition of animal ears that's getting him insatiable, but seeing you adorned with a crown that is so inherently his that does it.

Jungkook's no saint. He's had his fair share of one-nighters. A couple hours of fun never to be spoken of again. Since the group of them signed to their management agency, they've been repeatedly told how important it is to get NDA's signed. Something about it always feels so icky to Jungkook. Cruel, almost. Has only had a couple hook-ups since then, both with flings he's known for a good couple of years, with no fear of them spilling the beans on how prettily he whines when he cums.

You're the first new girl in a long time. He knows he should really pause things before you cut to the chase—but then your hand is trailing down his thick forearm, delicately stroking his rabbit moon with a curious smile. Decides he doesn't care.

"The ears are cute," he replies. Teasingly adds, "Nabi."

The position of your arms over his shoulders ensures the tattoos he'd traced the week before are fully displayed for him. As his eyes drop to your butterfly, you're curiously smitten by the way his lips move to press a kiss against it again.

"Suit me?"

"Mhmm," he hums, eyes flickering back up to yours. "Should also get you a pair of butterfly wings, or something."

"I'd make you wear them," you tell him with a cheeky glint in your eye. "Turn you into a butterfly, yourself. Your girlies in the chat would love that."

Jungkook knows without a shadow of a doubt he'd let you. Not for the girlies in the chat, but for you.

Ghosting his lips against yours, he's waiting for you to press down. Is letting you take the lead.

Your kisses are sweet. Tepid. Reserved.

You're feeling; his hands on your waist, the pressure of his lip rings, the presence of his nose.

And then he's feeling; your bare skin as his large hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, the way your legs wrap around him, the vibration of a small groan against his lips.

The skirt you're in is bunched around your hips, and the positioning is just right for you to feel how hard he is against your underwear. It's a little undignified, you'll admit, but you're impatient, so you take control. Reposition his hand between your legs. Encourage him to take things further.

"Yeah?" He checks.

Nodding into a needy kiss, you mumble, "Please."

It might've been a while, but Jungkook's muscle memory is enviable. He's the best player on the team for that very reason.

As he hooks your underwear to the side, he's pleased to be greeted with indications of your arousal. Smirks into the kisses he's giving you, as his fingertips graze against your clit. Trails his lips to your neck. Wants to hear the way you gasp as he pushes his thick middle finger inside you.

"Fuck," you sigh at the welcome intrusion. Nod, as he curls his finger almost immediately. He's got a lot to thank those damn video games for, that's for sure.

Softly moaning, just how he hoped you would, there's an arch to your back as he picks up a pace. The need to perform, almost.

Head tipping back as Jungkook fucks another finger into you, you're unable to think too cognitively. Can only think about the way he feels. The smell of his hair as he presses kisses against your neck, and how prominent his collarbones are as your nails trail up his toned torso.

"Feels so good," you tell him. Move the hand of yours that's been resting on his shoulder to his hair. Tug on it a little. Elicit the prettiest of whines from him.

There's something to be said for making a man—especially one of such strength, stature, status—so weak. Gets you all giggly. Jungkook can feel the satisfaction ripple through your entire body, and it just makes him groan against your neck even more.

"You're so wet," he praises, pulling back to study your face as he plays with you. Lets his thumb stroke up against your clit ever so gently. Revels in the way you get a little shaky. Twitchy. With those damn bunny ears, you really are like a little rabbit. Jungkook finally understands why the fan artists choose to draw him in such a way. It is hot. "You're making me so fuckin' hard."

And then you're giggling again.

"Is it a joke to you, huh?" He smirks. Looks down at your pussy, all swollen and sopping wet for him, in the hazy violet light of his room. Knows that his throbbing cock is gonna stuff you so fuckin' full that laughing won't be an option. Is desperate for it. "How badly I want you is just a big joke to you, huh, bunny?"

The way he groups you in with his moniker is too damn hot.

"Dunno," you rasp, desperately trying to hold off the orgasm that's building inside you. "Fuck me and find out."

Reaching for the button of his trousers, you're quick as you wrestle his jeans down over his ass. Don't bother pushing them down entirely. Just enough to get his boxers exposed, and in turn, his thick cock. Hard and engorged, his desperation for you is evident. A small patch of precum seeps through the fabric of his boxers. He curses as your thumb strokes against it.

"Condom?" You ask, knowing you've got none on you.

"Hold that thought," he says, regretfully pulling away from you.

Watching on as he pushes down his jeans, and strips himself of his shirt, you're at a loss for words. You've seen him like this before, but it's so much hotter knowing that he's gonna be fucking himself into you as soon as he possibly can.

Jungkook could very easily lead you to his bed. Get you comfy. Reach to his bedside cabinet for a condom. Fuck you how he likes—doggy-style, minimal face-to-face contact—and be done with it all very quickly.

Instead, he says, "Stay here."

Doing as you're told, you watch on as he walks to the cabinet, and retrieves a condom. Admire his back, and his broad shoulders. The valley of his spine, and the hard work he's put into crafting his physique. Smirk to yourself as he dips into his boxers. Strokes himself. Once, twice. Tears the packet open with his teeth, just like you were always taught not to do, and rolls the latex down his thick shaft.

"What?" he smirks as he walks back, realising your eyes are transfixed on his cock.

You say nothing. Smile. Hold your hands out for Jungkook to take, just so you can pull him back even quicker.

Lips pressing into yours as he closes the gap, Jungkook is all smiles. Rubs the head of his cock against your pussy, gathering up your arousal all over his tip. Lines himself up with your entrance. Waits for you to give him the go-ahead.

Hand on his ass, you pull him closer. Edge the crown of his cock into you. Whimper. Beg. "Please."

Sinking into you with a laboured grunt, he's surprised with how much tighter you are around his cock than you were with his fingers. Wet and warm, there's an undeniable pleasure that sparks through his body as he gets familiar with the way you feel.

Slowly, his hips begin to pick up a pace. As his tongue strokes into your mouth, there's no dignity to the way he's taking you. The increased pace means heightened moans, and it's not just you—it's him, too.

"Shit, yeah," he grits. "So fuckin' tight, aren't you?"

Whining, you nod into his kisses. Are at his entire disposal as he grips your waist, proving exactly why Tokki is the perfect nickname for him.

As much as he likes the ears, he's a little worried that he might fuck you so hard they fall off. Doesn't wanna break them, and definitely doesn't wanna think about the story the boys would make up when they go live tomorrow to tease him—but also really wants to fuck you harder.

Which is funny, cause the way he tugs them off with such desperation and tosses them down, you'd be forgiven for thinking he couldn't care less about breaking them. Doesn't give you a chance to say anything, 'cause his big hands are cradling your face, bringing you in for desperate kisses once more.

There's a lewdness to the sounds you make together, but Jungkook knows that if he was an entirely different kind of streamer, you'd make bank together. Wonders about the way it would look on camera. Worries. Pauses.

"You good?" You check a little breathlessly as he reaches behind you, just to tug the wire to his webcam from the plus.

"Yeah," he nods, still fiddling around behind you. Smiles in the hedonistic haze as your lips find a new home on his neck. Strokes your hair gently, and presses a kiss to the side of your head. Quietly says, "Just making sure there's no way in hell I accidentally start streaming."

You hum, all purry and pliant. "People would pay good money to see it."

While he agrees, and has had the same thought process, he doesn't care. "You saying I should be charging you for this?"

"Oh, no," you say all very sweetly. "You should be paying me."

"I'll pay you with orgasms," he promises, knowing that it's a rare currency for one-night strands.

You smirk. Pat the top of his head. "Sure you will."

If there's one thing Jungkook loves, it's a challenge.

Pulling back, he turns you around. Gets you bent over his desk with zero opposition from you. Rubs himself against your soaked cunt, then asks, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you smirk, and then settle into a sigh as he pushes into you. The feeling of fullness from Jungkook is one that's hard to compare. So thick, and fat, and heavy, his cock really is just as impressive as he is.

With one hand hooked at the crease of your thigh, the other holds the top of your shoulder. Gets you pushed down onto his cock as far as you possibly can be. There's a slight reflection in his streaming plaque beside the monitor, and you're pleased to see just how intensely focused he is on you, brows furrowed, pretty pink lips resting ajar. The silver of his lip rings and chain catch in the light, and you find you can't look at him for too long. He's too hot.

But then he's reaching down for your clit as he fucks into you. Has your legs shaking. The waves of a familiar sensation begin to lap against the shores of your pleasure.

"Fuck," you whine. "Feels good. Keep it like that."

Jungkook knows better than to ignore your requests. Does as he's told, the pressure of his fingers on your clit only deepening. Rubbing calculated circles against you, he knows just how to work you up. Gets you whining. Mewling. Moaning.

"Gonna cum, aren't you?" he smirks, as his own high builds.

"Fuck—"

"C'mon," he husks, feeling your walls tighten around him. He doesn't stop his relentless chase. Will win your orgasms fair and square. Continues pounding into you. Pace fast, strokes deep, he's everything you could ever want and more—and then he's slowing. Keeping you plugged, nice and deep, but focusing on the way he's toying with your clit. "You know you wanna cream for me. All over my cock, pretty Nabi. C'mon—"

"I'm close," you all but whimper. "So—fuck. So close."

"Yeah, you are," he tells you—and then your legs are shaking, pussy tightly clamping around his cock, one hand tense against his desk while the other grabs at his wrist. Uncontrollable, is the way you whine for him. It's so needy—so desperate and pathetic—that it's almost a sob. Jungkook doesn't ease up. In fact, his hips gain a little pace again as your orgasm shatters around you both. He's breathless, but manages to choke out, "Flithy fuckin' cunt. Feels so fuckin' good. Fuck."

The frail limpness of your body as the orgasm smokes away is cute. Jungkook loves it. You're so weak for him. He fucks into you still, chasing his own high, and your whines only get louder. It's overwhelming, but you never want to lose the feeling.

It doesn't take much. Just a minute or so of your tight cunt, and Jungkook is pulling out. Even though he doesn't ask you to, you get to your knees as he tears the condom off.

"In my mouth," you beg, and who is he to reject such an offer?

Jerking himself to completion, Jungkook is all pretty and pathetic when he cums, too. Looks at you with eyes so starry you'd been forgiven for thinking he was a descendant of the constellations.

He milks the final few spurts of himself onto your wet tongue, and curses when you press dainty kisses to his tip. Stroking your tongue against him, you don't want to waste a drop. Look up at him and find that his eyes are resting shut from the pleasure of it all.

Silence surrounds you both, just your beating hearts and laboured breaths filling to the room. He helps you up. Holds you tight. Hugs you for a little while, then presses a kiss to the side of your head. "Thanks."

"My pleasure," you giggle - and then he's smiling, too. Feels vindicated by his irrational thoughts about you over the last few days. He pays no mind to the fact you're still technically dressed, and he's basically naked.

As he sorts himself out, you perch back up on his desk and languidly swing your legs. Enjoy the thought of memories plaguing him whenever he tried to play his little games over the next few days.

"You wanna grab a shower?" he offers. "Food, too? Dunno about you, but I'm fuckin' starving."

"Same," you nod, biting down on your bottom lip. "I'll go wash up, you sort food? Are places still open for delivery?"

Checking his phone for the time, Jungkook is surprised that it's closer to midnight than it is to his morning alarm. Only a handful of places will offer delivery at this time, but that's enough.

"Works for me," he says with a yawn, then opens what you had assumed was the closet door. Reveals an en-suite and knocks his head to the side. "Get your shower. Gimmie a shout if you need anything."

Tiles large and grey, it's the perfect counterpart to his bedroom. A little dark, but it's only because Jungkook hates using the big light. Always flicks the small light switches instead. There's a window overlooking the city, and even though you're only seven floors up, the hills of Yongsan-gu mean that he's got a view you could only dream of.

You're about to start the shower up when he calls through. "Is pizza good?"

"Pizza's good," you call back with a smile. Look yourself in the mirror and wonder how the fuck you ended up in the bathroom of arguably the most famous person you've ever met. Decide it's better not to question it.

The shower begins to cascade down, even if your sins are washed way, you know you won't be able to forget the feeling of Jungkook so easily.

Truth be told, you won't even try.

YONSEI UNIVERSITY DORMS DAESIN-DONG, SEODAEMUN-GU SUNDAY 21:13

"L in the chat," booms the voice of Taehyung through your laptop speakers. His trademark grin rests on his face as he teases Jungkook.

You've only just opened the stream. Instantly, you focus on the prettily lopsided smirk of Jungkook's lips. You've learned it's an almost permanent fixture on his boyish face. Shaking his head, he's adjusting his headset. Making it a little looser so that it'll fit him properly.

No one is questioning it.

What they are questioning, is where the fuck that pretty purple bruise on his neck has come from.

"Cross-fit," Jungkook just shrugs, knowing that it's the colloquial term for suspicious bruises after some idol used the same excuse. Blatant horseshit. Jungkook doesn't care.

"I've never done cross-fit, but I know you're bullshitting," Taehyung snorts.

The chat seems to agree with him.

"Thought I was a virgin?" Jungkook states a little cheekily, making reference to Taehyung's usual banter. "How else would I get one?"

Taehyung knows better than the retort. Knows that Jungkook could very easily slip something about Rae into the conversation.

Virgin? You type through a message on a private discord chat with Jungkook. He'd set it up the day before. Has already sent you, like, a thousand messages. Is what can only be described as obsessed—but it's mutual. Could have fooled me.

As his eyes glance down to his laptop screen, he fails to hide his smile. Had opened your chat on there, cause he didn't wanna accidentally broadcast the messages onto his stream. Despite this, he doesn't care that there are nearly 10,000 people in his stream merely minutes into it. Is far more interested in his chat thread with you. Replies immediately.

Stop distracting meI'm working</3

Giggling as the message pings through to you, there's a giddy quality to the way Jungkook makes you feel.

He'd spent the day in bed with you after your night together. Had wanted you to stay when he started streaming that evening. Said he'd only be an hour or so, and was incredibly pouty when you did leave.

It had just been him on last night's stream—headset off 'cause he didn't wanna adjust it back yet, hoodie on to hide his neck. The other boys were nursing hangovers, so he could do what he liked.

What he did do had you incredibly curious. Was just chatting. Talking to the comment section. Sleepily reeling off facts he'd recently learned about butterflies. Debating over their lifespan.

You're not naive to the fact that Jungkook does this streaming stuff as a profession, and are aware that the more people talking about his stream on other platforms, the more viewers he'll get.

Made sense for him to add fuel to the butterfly-related fire by talking about them.

Had sent you a message earlier that evening to ask what kind of butterfly you had on your skin.

A Monarch, you'd told him.

"See, the thing is," Jungkook had rambled to his viewers a little later on. "Most butterflies have super short lifespans—Monarch's included."

Eyes all starry, lights in his bedroom purple as per usual, he'd looked cosy. You wished you'd have stayed.

"But there's a specific kind. Migrating Monarchs. They're the last of their generation—the final butterflies of the year," he marvelled at the magic of it all.

His facts were a little hazy, but he knew enough. Had been down a you-shaped rabbit hole all afternoon.

"And they migrate, right? Move away from home—somewhere warmer—and then it just extends their lifespan. 180 days. Not 30. That's six months. Six months. It's a long time. It's not fleeting. Not in the slightest."

It's also, curiously, exactly how long you're scheduled to stay in Korea for.

"I dunno," Jungkook had just sighed, a little forlorn, trying to make sense of his thoughts.

He bit down on his bottom lip, stroking his thumb against the hard plastic ears of his headset, then focused on the camera again. Wondered if you were watching.

He simply shrugged. Said, "Counts for something, though, right?"

#byholly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bangtan fic #jungkook fluff #streamer!jungkook #non idol au #bts fanfic #bangtan ff #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader

2K notes · View notes

blackhairedjjun · 8 months

Text

rebound and restoration

pairing: choi yeonjun x fem reader | genre / tropes: angst -> fluff, friends to lovers, post-breakup, non-idol au; ft. soobin + mentions of the rest of txt; reader is yeonjun's age (soobin calls reader "noona") | word count: 5.4k | warnings: post-breakup heartbreak, profanity, food, kissing

additional note: fic is mostly written but contains a few texts

summary: with his heart still aching after just getting dumped, yeonjun turns to you, one of his closest friends, for comfort. that is, until he kisses you - and your friendship starts to change.

author's notes: honestly i feel like if i don't post this soon i'll be dissatisfied with it forever and edit it endlessly and it'll never get past my drafts LOL perfect is the enemy of done!! anyway i wrote this while i was feeling stressed and insane during the holidays and wanted... an angsty kiss for whatever reason. lmao yeah

(support by reblogging banner by @cafekitsune)

when yeonjun arrives at your apartment, it’s still early in the evening; the two bowls of pho you ordered for takeout are still hot, and you’ve left your laptop open at a selection of cheesy netflix rom-coms. perhaps the selection is a bit ironic, but you mused that the feel-good escapism is just what he needs.

he pulls you into a hug and you give him an extra squeeze and a few pats on the back. you can’t help but ruffle his hair a little as he pulls away.

“hey, jjun...”

“y/n!”

“how are you feeling?”

“ah, a bit better, i think.”

he gives you a slight smile, and you’re too relieved to notice that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. it’s a miracle to you that he’s even smiling again two weeks after his breakup. you still remember the cracks in his voice when he called you after it had happened, the rims of his eyes red with crying when he finally crashed at your place half an hour later. that night you held him tight as he told the story to you in between sobs: hana had broken up with him over a call that lasted less than a minute. she was bored and tired of him and just stopped caring, she said, if he were a toy she could throw away if she didn’t want to play with it anymore.

you swallowed back the anger in your throat back then, though you couldn’t help the tears of your own that fell. now you push the anger back down again as you lead yeonjun to the small table at your kitchenette, one of the bowls of pho steaming in front of him. now is not the time for indignation; your friend needed comfort, and it’s comfort you will give.

yeonjun’s eyes light up at the sight of the pho. your heart swells, and you don’t hold it against him when he sits down ahead of you and picks up his chopsticks, ready to dig in. in between slurps he grins like he’s just received the best present of his life. “this is so good!” he said in between mouthfuls of noodles. “it’s been way too long since i had this.”

“i know! feels like we haven’t had this in ages.”

“remember when we tried to make our own?”

“oh god, not that!” you laugh, dropping your chopsticks. “we got impatient and that broth tasted like nothing.”

“your kitchen smelled like ginger though,” yeonjun recalls with a giggle. “it was nice visiting for a while.”

“my kitchen smelled like ginger more than the actual broth, jjun.”

“maybe we can try again one of these days? and if we mess up, at least you’ll have a nice-smelling kitchen again.”

all you can do in response is laugh, and for a moment you forget that you stopped having pho nights together when hana entered his life.

he fills you in on video game night with soobin and kai, shopping with beomgyu, and his so-called revenge gym day with taehyun; he beams with pride while describing his new weight record just as much as he does when talking about managing a hard-earned victory over soobin at tekken. you laugh along with him, knowing that his friends blocked out their schedules just to comfort him for a day. and when you talk about your new project at work and the new books you bought yourself as a treat, his eyes fill with that indescribable look you’ve seen before. you can’t quite place what it is, but it reminds you of afternoon light, of summer days, of lingering hugs after a long day together.

you don’t need to ask for yeonjun to help you clear out the table and pick up the snacks you set aside for your movie, and you make no effort to resist. there are no words exchanged: he simply places all the disposable pho bowls and chopsticks together, and you reach for a clean garbage bag and put them all in. the only communication between you is a shared look and a nod.

perhaps it’s just your imagination, but that look lingers a little longer than you’re used to, and you can’t help but give him a satisfied smile.

you’ve seen him look at hana that way, too many times to count, especially during that early-dating phase when the thrill of emotions was still high. you wondered what it was like to be on the receiving end of that gaze, for yeonjun to look at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. and you wondered if hana really was that precious 一 if she were just as precious to him as you, his best friend, if not more so.

you let yeonjun select the movie. at first you doubt your idea to present him with rom-coms, of all things, but you let out a sigh of relief when he happily chooses one of them. both of you have seen this one many times over, but you don’t mind. there’s comfort in knowing that a happy ending is guaranteed to happen.

the two of you are slouched on your couch together, the laptop balanced on a pillow between the both of you. yeonjun sits close to you, an arm around your shoulder, a gesture that he hasn’t done with you since he started dating. you let yourself lean against him (so that you can see the screen better, you tell yourself). the two of you start a running commentary on the movie 一 “why would he say that?!” “aww, they look so cute together,” “oh god, that was so stupid!” 一 and both of your laughter fills the apartment, the sound like a duet in harmony.

it’s so easy this way, you think 一 just you and your best friend in your own little corner of the world. you steal a glance at yeonjun while he’s absorbed in the final confession scene, a soft smile on his lips and his eyes gleaming with anticipation for the big kiss. a string of memories flash before you before you can help yourself.

“she said yes,” he says, his whole face flush with excitement. “she said she’ll be mine.”

his hands are on your shoulders and he gives them a gentle squeeze. “there’s no way hana can’t like you. you’re one of my best friends, i’ll make sure you get along.”

“i think hana’s mad at me,” he tells you as he fiddles with the beanie in his hands. “but don’t worry about it, we’ll talk it out, i promise.”

his head is in his hands as you sit across him from a restaurant booth. “i don’t know what i did wrong, she looked so bored through the whole date...”

you hold him close as he sobs in your arms, his whole body shaking. “sh-she said she’s... tired of me…”

“y/n?”

you snap back to reality as yeonjun glances at you, his head tilted. the ending credits of the movie have started to play. “are you okay?”

“i-i’m fine.” you reach out to touch his cheek, then hesitate. “are you okay?”

“i’m fine, y/n.” he picks up on the meaning of your words. “i know i looked really bad that night, but i’m getting better, i promise.”

“good.” your eyes meet his, and your cheeks grow warm. “we can have nights like this as many times as you want until you feel better, okay?”

“yeah, i know. i missed having nights like this, actually.”

“me too. i really liked it when we did this all the time...”

“i know. i’m sorry. hana didn’t like一”

“hey.” your hand comes up again and this time, you gently hold on to his cheek. “it doesn’t matter what she thinks anymore.”

“y/n... i’m really sorry. i feel like i neglected you, and you’ve been my friend for so long...”

tears form in his eyes, and you feel them warm against his cheek. you wipe them away with your thumb as you move closer to him. he continues to ramble as you do.

“i feel like an idiot. like a total dumbass.” the pitch of his voice begins to rise. “god, i was so convinced that hana and i were the perfect couple, that we’d be happy. i-i thought about her more than she d-did about me, y/n, and i stopped hanging out with you一 when you’ve always一”

“jjun, please don’t apologize anymore,” you say, your voice trembling. “i’ve never been mad at you over her, not even once. i just want you to feel better, okay? i... i just want to see you be yourself again.”

you want to see the yeonjun you’ve always loved.

you’ve lain awake at night wondering if he’s ever sensed your feelings for him, and if he’s ever felt the same way. on the day he told you that he and hana were officially together, you spent that night sobbing in your bed, convinced that your friend would never see you as a lover. and yet you said nothing of that night, and of other nights similar to it, because you told yourself that if hana made him happy, then you would be happy too.

and now you want more than anything to see him happy again.

yeonjun says nothing, but instead places a hand on top of the one you have resting on his cheek. you feel it trembling, but you don’t resist as he grasps your hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. he swallows hard to push back the rest of his tears, and his eyes soften. once again there’s that indescribable look of his that makes you feel light.

“y/n...”

he says your name softly, as if in reverence. his face inches closer to yours and you don’t pull away; instead you feel lighter than ever, your gaze falling to his lips as your eyes flutter shut. everything that follows feels slow, gentle; his nose brushing against yours, then your lips on his.

he kisses you slowly at first, but as you kiss him back you fill with a new fervor, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him wrap his arms around your waist to pull your body flush against his. warmth blooms in your chest, and every movement of yours betrays your feeling: your lips moving against his, your hands making their way into his hair. you want to kiss him until the pain he feels has been replaced by the love you have for him 一 i love you, i love you, i love you.

you’re completely absorbed in him and let out a soft sigh when yeonjun snaps out of it 一 he breaks apart from you, breathing hard, eyes wide as he’s hit by what he’s just done.

“shit, y/n一” he gets off the couch, one hand running through his hair over and over again. “i’m so sorry. fuck, i shouldn’t have done that一”

you’re snapped out of your trance as you stand up to chase after him. “jjun, hey, wait! listen to me—”

he’s picking up his bag from the foot of your couch. he can’t even look at you, instead occasionally letting out a shit or two under his breath.

“yeonjun, please一”

you stand in front of him to block his way from the exit. at first his head is bowed, avoiding your gaze, but when he finally looks up his expression is solemn.

“you are not a rebound to me,” he says at last. “please don’t ever think that i just used you to make me feel better.”

“i never accused you of that! look, i’m sorry too, it was my fa一”

“i’m really sorry, but i can’t stay here anymore. i’ll make it up to you, y/n, i promise.”

“wait一”

yeonjun walks past you and before you can protest any further, he’s out your door. you push it open and try to chase after him, but after a few steps you stop, thinking better of it. what would stopping him even do?

you walk back inside and slump back down on the couch. the screen of your laptop faintly glows, and a half-eaten bag of chips has fallen to the floor. all at once the reality of what happens sinks into you: the kiss, his words, his departure.

you are not a rebound to me. the words echo in your mind.

a strange tension fills you, and you can’t even tell what emotion it’s supposed to be from: confusion, frustration, anxiety. with your whole body seemingly on edge, you grab a throw pillow from the opposite side of your couch and press it into your face.

you sob into it the tension crashes down on you in full force.

一

for the next few nights the scene replays in your dreams: yeonjun leaning in ever closer towards you, your lips meeting his in a fervent kiss 一 each night’s dream-kiss more fervent than the last 一 and him suddenly pulling away. you awaken each time just as he breaks the kiss, the shock and confusion coursing through you again, and immediately after you reach for your bedside table to check your phone.

still no text from yeonjun.

you consider texting him again, but each time you type a new message you erase it, the blinking cursor driving you mad. how would you even know what to say? do you want to apologize? to beg for his forgiveness? to ask if you can still be friends?

you hate to admit it, but every morning you lie in bed for a few moments more to allow the dream to sink in. the look on yeonjun’s face appears vivid to you, from his eyes blown wide to his mouth slightly agape. your mind travels back to the moment he breaks the kiss, as if a sudden force pushed him away, the shock of it hitting you. then it wanders to the kiss itself, the feeling of his lips soft against your own, his arms warm as they hold you by the waist…

you shake the memory away, drag yourself out of bed, and continue on with your routine: breakfast, shower, get dressed. you resist the urge to check your phone for as long as you can. you stare at the little contact photo you set of yeonjun and remind yourself: you’re his friend. you need to help him heal.

you recount your worries to soobin over snacks one day.

“i feel like i’m being selfish,” you say in between munches of potato chips. “he hasn’t even moved on from hana”— soobin winces at the acridity you mutter her name with—“and now one of his closest friends kisses him like she’s madly in love. how is he supposed to move on? he’s hurting enough as it is.”

soobin sets aside the bag of chips you just finished. he rubs his face with his hands as he tries to choose his words carefully.

“you’re not being selfish, noona. you sound like you’re trying to be careful so that you don’t hurt him,” he says at last. “and yeonjun hyung feels just as bad about it. he feels bad that he even started the kiss, and for making you feel like a rebound. you two sound like each other, to be honest.”

“i know he feels bad, it’s just 一 i don’t know how that will fix...” you wave your hands wildly in the air, “this.”

“you can start by talking to each other?”

“he didn’t reply to my last texts. and i… i don’t know if i should text him again.”

a moment of silence. soobin opens a pack of candy and chews on it, just to give himself time to think. he fiddles with his phone as he does, absentmindedly scrolling through his old texts, when one of them catches his eye.

“so, there’s this new restaurant that beomgyu wants to check out.”

“really, soobin, what does this have to—”

“he was thinking of inviting all of us there to hang out,” he continues. “including you and yeonjun hyung. we can plan for it a week or two from now so that you have space? and then you can get used to talking to him again there. if things get awkward, i can ask beomgyu to fill in.”

you purse your lips. “i dunno, i might cry if i see his face again.”

“if you don’t feel like it, just call in sick.” soobin’s mouth twitches into a small grin as he says it — you know he’s used that excuse to get away from social situations he doesn’t want to be in. now you’re starting to see the appeal of it.

“okay. i’ll think about it.”

—

ultimately you do decide to go, and two weeks later you’re the first to arrive at the restaurant. you can feel your hands trembling as you push the door open and your heart hammering in your chest. in your head you’ve prepared what you want to say to yeonjun and you mentally rehearse your words for the hundredth time.

you slide right into the booth and take a deep breath. you check your phone to keep yourself busy, letting yourself calm down until your hands have stopped shaking. as you’re scrolling through your camera roll looking at some memes beomgyu sent you, someone slides into the booth seat opposite yours.

“hey, y/n.”

yeonjun gives you a shy smile and the nervousness in your stomach kicks into overdrive. he looks much better now; the bags under his eyes have lessened, and his smile seems genuine. still, you can’t help but remember the last time you saw him, and you shudder.

he sees your reaction and winces, averting his gaze. when he speaks, his voice is soft. “y/n... are we okay?”

the question breaks you and whatever words you have prepared fly out of your mind. as you try to grasp at them again, tears prick at your eyes.. “yeah... yeah, we’re okay,” you say. you take a gulp of water to hold back the tears. “i was never mad at you, jjun, i’ve been worried out of my mind一”

“i’m sorry i never replied to your texts.” he places his hands atop your trembling ones. “i just felt so ashamed that i didn’t know how to face you.”

“and i’m sorry i never tried texting you again, i just didn’t know what you thought of me, and i was so scared that i lost you...”

“i was so scared that i lost you.”

you sniffle. “that makes both of us then. god, we were so stupid.”

“i missed you, y/n.”

“i missed you too, jjun.”

you let out a laugh of relief and he laughs too. with the sound of his laughter melding with yours, everything else seems to melt away: the tears in your eyes, the other noises of the restaurant, the baggage of the last two weeks. sitting before you is your old friend, holding onto your hand to comfort you, laughing together with you just like you always have.

and just as always, you want nothing more than for your friend to be happy.

“so,” you begin, giving him the most reassuring smile that you can muster, “let’s start over?”

yeonjun glances down at the table, but you can see his eyes crinkling as they usually do when he smiles. “yeah, let’s do that.”

when beomgyu enters the restaurant right afterwards, all it takes is one glance at the scene before him to understand what happened. he turns his head towards you, meeting your gaze, and you give him a nod.

it’s going to be okay.

一

the kiss becomes an unspoken part of your history together, never mentioned and never acknowledged. you stop searching for hidden meanings to it, and instead settle on the explanation that it was simply a spur-of-the-moment reaction from pent-up post-breakup emotions. it doesn’t matter to you whether or not this explanation is true; it’s the explanation that gives you the most peace of mind, and that’s what matters. as the days pass, you think of it less and less, and eventually it is filed away in your memory, like a book never checked out of the library collecting dust.

in the meantime, you pour your energy into rebuilding both your friendship with yeonjun as well as his fragile heart. the first few hangouts with just the two of you are awkward with a tinge of melancholy, with conversations feeling a little too short. fortunately, your shared friends are there to help: you and yeonjun are invited to video game nights at soobin’s, or a cute new cafe that kai wants to check out, or just a walk around the park. the silences feel less awkward when it’s quickly filled by a joke from beomgyu or witty remark from taehyun.

from time to time you see the shine in yeonjun’s eyes disappear, even for just a moment, when he encounters something that reminds him of “the ‘h’ word” (as beomgyu refers to her): a park bench where they had a date, or a dress on a passerby that looks a lot like something she would wear. sometimes one of his friends would recognize it and quickly divert his attention elsewhere. soon those diversions occur less and less often as fewer and fewer things remind yeonjun of her.

but things don’t truly feel normal to you until a month and a half later. your project at work has gone well, and yeonjun has completed the first draft of a mixtape he’s making. just as you muse to yourself that a reward would be nice, your phone buzzes.

that afternoon you and yeonjun stroll down the shopping district a few minutes away from his house, trying on this and that. it isn’t long before you find yourself spending over your budget; it’s hard not to when yeonjun is constantly egging you to buy something you really want. “c’mon, y/n,” he whines as you put back another cute button-down on the rack. “you deserve it! you can wear it to work for the next phase of your project!”

he giggles when he sees your eyes light up at his words. “we do have another presentation for it,” you muse.

still, you draw the line when you spot an elegant tan jacket worn by one of the storefront mannequins. you stare at it longingly as if you’ve found your soulmate, and yeonjun sweet-talks you into entering the shop and trying it on. but when you see the hefty price tag on it, you sigh.

“i can’t justify this, jjun…”

“but you look great in it! and you want it so much. you’ll feel worse if you don’t get it.”

“maybe…” you glance down at the shopping bags in your hand. “i dunno, i’ve spent so much already.”

you sigh in defeat and turn back to the store exit before you can second-guess yourself. yeonjun doesn’t follow immediately, but instead watches you go as he lingers a bit longer.

later that day, the two of you sort through all the things you bought (mostly clothes and accessories, but also a vinyl for yeonjun and a novel for yourself) in between giggles and wide eyes and a shower of compliments. yeonjun puts on a completely new outfit for you and struts down his apartment like a runway model, and he pulls you up from the floor to do the same. soon you’re laughing and clapping at each other’s performances, and yeonjun even whips out his phone to take photos of each other’s best looks.

as you rummage through your haul for one more outfit to assemble, your eyes land on a familiar spot of tan fabric. your mouth falls open when you pull it out and see that jacket — the one you’re pretty sure you didn’t buy. you glance up at yeonjun and he licks his lips before forming a mischievous grin.

“jjun, is this...”

“it’s yours.”

“you didn’t have to一”

“i saw the way you were looking at it, y/n. i just had to get it for you. c’mon, put it on.”

hesitantly, you take off the jacket you’re already wearing and put on the new one. it fits perfectly, just a little loose to let air flow in, and you love how it frames your figure. yeonjun is still smiling at you, but it’s a different smile. he looks at you as if you’ve transformed in front of him.

“you look really pretty,” he says. “let me take a few pics, okay?”

he snaps a few photos of you and you pose for the camera, and a comforting warmth settles over you. if this happened a few months earlier, you would have blushed and your heart would be doing somersaults, but now all you feel is a light flutter. everything feels fit in, like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place.

you lock eyes with yeonjun as he takes the last photo and puts his phone away. as you whisper “thank you” to him, the gleam in his eyes is reflected in your own. there it is, that indecipherable look of his that makes you feel warm.

you still love him 一 there’s a part of you that still knows that. but over the last month and a half you’ve simply learned to live with your feelings, letting them fill you with lightness for a few moments and then letting them go. feelings or not, you’re just glad to have yeonjun in your life again. even as a friend, his presence is a soothing balm against the stresses of life.

一

months later, yeonjun is sprawled on your couch again, his head on your shoulder as you scroll through your list of rom-coms on your laptop. at one point the two of you resumed your pho and rom-com nights, and you’re glad for it; few things give you as much comfort after a long week of work.

after scrolling back and forth a few times, you pause on the same movie you’ve always watched together and give him a quick look. he simply smiles.

“don’t you get sick of this one?” you ask.

“not really, the ending always feels nice. are you… tired of it?”

“no no, i— i was worried that you’re tired of it.”

“me? never.”

“perfect, ‘cause i’m not either.” you give him a knowing grin and press play.

at this point you both know this movie so well that you recite along to every line. you do the female lead’s lines, yeonjun does the male lead’s, and you even sing along to the soundtrack. yeonjun stretches out on your couch even more, his head ending up in your lap, and in the movie’s quiet moments you find yourself playing with his hair. when the big confession happens you can feel him holding his breath and then releasing it in a laugh when the two leads finally kiss.

the credits roll and he glances up at you, smiling in satisfaction. you smile too and hum along to the end credits song. as the movie ends, you let yourself bask in it: you stretch out your arms, yeonjun sits up to lean on your shoulder again, and you lay your head atop his. the two of you remain like that for a while, sitting in comfortable silence.

“don’t you ever get jealous of them?” you ask.

you feel his head shake a bit as he chuckles. “i hate to admit it, but yeah. rom-coms always make getting together look so... fun.”

“right? i wish my life was like that.”

“god, me too.”

“i swear, it drives me insane,” you huff. “every time i watch this i want to start dating again or something.”

a few more moments of silence. yeonjun lets out a soft exhale and you feel his body grow tense. the air in your apartment seems stuffier.

“speaking of which, i have to tell you something.”

“me...?”

you’ve never heard yeonjun sound so solemn. his head weighs down on your shoulder. “y’know, i’ve been uh... thinking of dating again.”

“oh... where are you dating this time? did beomgyu set you up again?”

he shakes his head, looks up at you for a split second, then looks down at his hands. you see the tips of his ears turn pink.

“actually, i... i have someone mind. someone i want to ask out, i mean.”

with those words the feelings you’ve brushed aside for so long come back in full force. your heart beats so hard it feels like it’s slamming into your chest. when you speak, your voice shakes.

“oh... who’s the lucky one?”

“i-i’ve known her for a while. she’s sweet and fun to be around... we’ve been hanging out a lot more often these last few months. we get along really well, at least i think we do...”

“sounds like you have chemistry with this special girl,” you say, the words heavy on your tongue. the hammering of your heart floods your ears. “so what’s stopping you from asking her out?”

yeonjun sits up to face you fully. you sense the effort it takes for him to look at you 一 has he ever been like this around you before? 一 and you reach for his hands. they’re trembling, and his ears go from pink to red.

“a long time ago,” he starts, voice shaking, “i kissed her. i kissed her after my last breakup. and i wasn’t thinking straight, i was just so lonely that i wanted to be loved again 一 but i can’t do that to yo— to her, she’s one of my best friends, i don’t want yo— her to be a rebound 一 but then you said we could start over so we did and i dunno, at one point i started liking you, i fell so hard i don’t know wh一”

you interrupt him with a kiss, your lips gentle on his. you feel him kissing you back, his movements gentle as his hand comes up to hold your head in place. you find yourself pressed against him and he’s even warmer than you remember, warmer than those dreams you had so many months ago.

when you break apart, his eyes are glazed over in a look of pure admiration.

“y/n...”

“jjun, i...” heat spreads across your face. “i’ve loved you for years.”

“then why didn’t you say anything?”

“how could i? what if you didn’t feel that way and it ruined our friendship? and with all the other guys too?” your heart is still beating fast but you let out the words while your boldness still has a hold on you. “and then you dated hana and i cried but i wanted you to be happy 一 then you broke up and you kissed me and i liked it, and i hated myself for liking it because you were 一”

yeonjun pulls you into him, arms encircling you, and as you keep rambling into his chest he soothes you with one hand combing through your hair. his other arm grips you firmly, and your own arms find a firm hold around his neck.

“i love you too, y/n,” he whispers into your hair before leaving a kiss there. “it’s okay.”

“i love you, so much...”

he pulls apart to get a good look at your face. as he sees a few tears start to roll down your cheeks, he brushes them aside with his thumb.

“so this girl,” he says, affection lacing his words, “after we kissed, she said we could start over. and we did. and i’m really glad we did, because i fell for h一 for you so hard.”

you lean your head forward so that your forehead touches his. “really?”

“really. and i...”

“do you want to kiss her again?”

yeonjun’s breath hitches and his eyes meet yours. there it is 一 that same look of his that makes you feel light. the one that, you realize, makes you feel loved.

“can i?”

“please,” you whisper.

he closes the gap between your lips and his, and this time you feel only relief and bliss.

#txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt x you #yeonjun x you #choi yeonjun x reader #kpop x reader #txt imagines #kpop imagines #yeonjun imagines #txt angst #txt fluff #yeonjun angst #yeonjun fluff #tomorrow x together imagines #txt fic #txt fanfic #bhj: violet's works

666 notes · View notes

taegimood · 2 months

Text

ummm woah what’s that! points in the opposite direction as i scramble behind my open for business sign as if i didn’t disappear without a trace for months and have totally been here the whole time oh guess it was nothing anyway hi guys

i wouldn’t be me without eternal soobin brainrot so naturally i’ve emerged to throw this old now-finished draft at you for my first post back 🫡

so the best friends to fwb to lovers pipeline is my mf roman empire i’m so serious. like bestfriend!soobin always sitting next to you with his hand casually resting on your leg at all times, not even in a suggestive way, he just gravitates towards touching you 🥺 his safe place !! imagining his huge self slumped practically in half to rest his head on your shoulder, or him just mindlessly playing with your little fingers in his big hands glitches as he sits observing the room w that soft pout and big boba eyes combo yeah you know the one- clutches chest

so then later turned fwb!soobin who’s so used to showering w his friends iykyk lmao that now that he’s fucking you, in his mind you’ve crossed over that threshold of friendship where he expects to be able to join you for your showers even when it’s nothing sexual.. is genuinely confused if you tell him no 😭

“soobin i just need some me-time”

“….you can’t have your me-time with me?” *displeased pout*

like a needy puppy fr

but like you guys having such an interesting dynamic cuz you’re just still straight-up best friends (who are actually in love with each other but neither of you realize that even tho everyone else does cue yeonjun rolling his eyes into the camera like the office) so even tho the boys are all waiting for you both to wake up from your one joint braincell’s loop of stupidity and realize the truth, (beomgyu’s words), no one actually suspects that you’re out here skipping steps and FUCKING each other, because you guys just act so normal and chill together otherwise — the same way you’ve always been.

until later when the feelings start coming to the surface and you suddenly don’t know how to act around each other but that’s a whole other can of worms 🫡

so, when you’ve joined them for a short weekend schedule in japan, no one questions it when soobin meanders over to your hotel room after everyone is all settled in and getting ready for bed. eh, he’s just gonna go veg out there for a bit cuz he’s bored while she rambles about random stuff. classic soobin and y/n. they are wrong

you had just settled into bed when soobin slips into your room with the spare key card you had tucked into his pocket earlier, and you’re shuffling around and getting comfy when you hear the door open and close. you two hadn’t made a plan to mess around tonight, but you aren’t surprised, as it isn’t unusual for soobin to still seek you out for cuddles while he talks about his day.

you don’t even have to say anything as he slides into bed behind you, instantly wrapping an arm around your waist and nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck with a sigh.

“needed a break from beomgyu’s pororo impressions,” he mumbles, and you snort at the thought. “how does he still have so much energy right now…?” you murmur back, sleep lacing the edges of your voice.

“i still think i’m right about him being an animatronic bot who reaches peak terror at night.”

the two of you giggle at soobin’s joke before falling into a comfortable silence, broken intermittently by comments about your day, about their schedule tomorrow, about the anime-themed shopping center you guys plan to sneak off to with kai afterwards.

with another sigh from soobin, this one more of contentment than exhaustion, he’s soon nestling further into you, your eyes slipping shut in sleepy bliss at the warmth of his body pressed to yours.

that is, until you begin to feel small kisses being placed softly along your shoulder.

“soobin,” you warn half-heartedly.

“‘m not doing anything,” he complains back quietly in an equally half-hearted mumble, as he continues clearly doing something.

you’re so tired, but you can’t deny the tingles that run through your body whenever soobin touches you, and tonight is no exception as you wordlessly turn your head to look over your shoulder at him, his features coming into focus in the near-darkness of the room as he pauses to gaze at you in turn.

his blonde hair all tousled from the pillows, the sharp line of his jaw, his soft shining eyes — and his lips that you can never seem to resist for very long.

case in point. it’s only a few passing moments before those lips are on yours in a deep kiss, languid and slow, his hand gently holding your chin that’s still angled back towards him, your own hand reaching behind to caress the back of his neck — and then he’s shifting backwards to turn you over fully, your back now against the sheets as he positions himself half over you, his tongue moving lazily with yours, warm and wet and tasting of him as he comfortably rests his weight on you.

you make out like that for a while, his wandering right hand leisurely squeezing and kneading your tits beneath your shirt, his lips occasionally finding themselves trailing down your neck, but always coming back up to find yours.

i can picture how needy he’d start to get, subtle at first in the way he’d shift his hips, in the way his breath would quicken — and then it would be obvious from the moans that escape him as his kisses grow heavier, more insistent.

“need you..” he’d groan breathlessly through his kisses, attempting to shove his sweatpants down with his free hand as his lips stay latched onto yours, too desperate and impatient to sit up properly and use both hands.

“someone might come looking for you,” but you’re tugging his pants and boxers down his hips for him anyway and his lips are on your neck as he pushes your panties aside.

“let them look.”

soobin wasting no time rocking into you with deep, needy strokes, his face buried in your neck while your arms wrap around his shoulders, clutching onto him as his hips press you further into the mattress the more desperate he gets.

his hands are all over you, squeezing and caressing anywhere they can touch, and closer just isn’t enough as he holds you against him with breathy moans and grinding hips until you’re both cumming, his stuttered groan the giveaway before his final thrust is filling you up and your own climax washes over you like a wave. you can feel each other’s hearts beating as he stays there rested on top of your chest.

your best friend eventually lifting himself to hover over you in the dark, his warm breath fanning over your lips as you push the damp hair from his forehead, hand sliding down to caress his cheek, his jaw, thumb ghosting across his parted lips as he twitches inside of you — you bite back a smile.

this time, when he kisses you.. you don’t know it yet, but this time, it’s different.

soobin isn’t exactly sure why he can feel heat rising to his cheeks or a little somersault in his chest, but he’s glad that it’s too dark for you to notice the redness in his face when he asks,

“can i stay here tonight?”

#mj’s hard thoughts #txt #txt x reader #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt thoughts #soobin #soobin x reader #soobin hard thoughts #soobin smut #soobin thoughts #taegimood

194 notes · View notes

causenessus · 2 months

Note

Hi! Congratulations on your 1K, you really deserve it! I've just seen your post about your event and was thinking of sending something. Could you write ⭐️ with Sakusa where the reader is his roommate and suffer from insomnia ? And could the reader be personality-wise like Sakusa, but the two are already close friends or whatever you want them to be ? This is maybe silly lol, anyway thank you for this event it’s really cool!

can't sleep? | sakusa k.

sakusa x f!reader

written in second person

one word prompt from 1k followers event: ⭐ -> insomnia

"maybe i'll just place my hands over you and close my eyes real tight. there's a light in your eyes and you know <3" from look on down from the bridge by mazzy star

word count: 2.8k words

anon. thank u for this. u have fed all the omi girlies well tonight <3 thank you so much for requesting and i hope you enjoy this fic!!!

notes: lots of fluff <3 THEY ARE STRETCHING!!! JUST STRETCHING TOGETHER i stress this bc i couldn't take myself seriously and even y/n has a moment of "should i ask what we are after this?" but they're just stretching okay. also i frequented this list of stretches and literally followed its order so in case you want to know what stretch they're doing LMAO THIS SOUNDS SO WEIRD I'M SORRY 😭 i attempted to proofread this!!! but i'm sorry for any typos </3

THANK YOU TO @nectardaddy FOR HELPING ME DECIDE ON A COLOR AND MAKING ME VERY EXCITED TO WRITE THIS!! I HOPE YOU ALSO ENJOY IT <3

kiyoomi likes his routines. he likes to be home by a certain time, eat dinner at a certain time, make sure the dishes are washed, and then he likes to retire to bed by a certain time. when he decided to find a roommate in order to split costs, he had been slightly worried that his routines would be ruined, but the universe had worked in his favor.

you had been his first option. he hadn’t even tried to send out messages to anyone else "just in case you declined his offer," he had just simply hoped you would say yes. you were quite frankly everything he could hope for as a roommate; he had known from the times you'd hung out throughout your years in high school that you liked things to be clean similar to him, and trying to find a time for you both to meet up throughout college meant he knew that your current schedules would line up nicely.

and luckily you had agreed enthusiastically, excited to move in with one of your closest friends. it eased your mind to know he would also be organized and keep to himself, which was not something you could say if you had moved in with someone like atsumu (would only become a reality if you had no other option) or osamu (you would consider it, after a lot of convincing and compromising).

and kiyoomi had been right. the decision to room had worked out perfectly in nearly every way. you always got home before him and would make your own dinner and take care of your dishes, leaving the place empty and spotless for him by the time he returned. sometimes, you even left notes for him, saying you had leftovers that he was free to eat if he wanted.

and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to see you. you were good friends, after all, and one of the few people he found he could always tolerate even when a day had stressed him out. but you both had agreed that you liked having time in the kitchen to yourself rather than two of you trying to be in there at the same time. it wasn’t anything personal; you were both independent people who valued their alone time. and when he saw you around the apartment, he never failed to talk to you, even if it was just a small nod of acknowledgment. you always had a calm and collected kind of demeanor, which he reasoned he liked because it was similar to him, in contrast to the men who had too much energy for their own good that he was surrounded by every day.

your similar attitudes had also led to a lot of shared nights together. sometimes on the nights when you stayed a little bit later at work or school, he would come home and you’d still be eating at the counter, zoned out on your phone, not even noticing him until he placed his bag on the table.

“oh, sorry, omi. welcome back, i can leave–”

“no, you’re fine. stay there,” he’d cut you off.

he’d navigate around the kitchen, gathering what he needed while you continued eating your own meal. sometimes things were peacefully silent between you both as you resumed scrolling on your phone; you were just two roommates in their kitchen, illuminated by the warm light of a hanging lamp overhead. other times you asked him how his day was, and you would both chat while he made his own dinner, and if his day was bad, sometimes you invited him to watch a movie with you.

that was something that had confused him. he always was preparing himself to say no, that he was tired, or that he just wanted to be in bed in an hour, but instead he often found himself agreeing to the proposal. he realized after a bit of thought that it was because he liked being around you. he was willing to amend his routines to include you in them.

a friend had once warned him that he could never really know someone until he lived with them. and he had found that with you, he only liked you more once he started rooming with you. he liked how responsible and respectful you were with everything you did, aware of your surroundings and the space you shared with him. he found that he looked forward to seeing you every day, and when your door was shut, sometimes he felt conflicted. like he wanted to see you, but he didn't have the right to invade your space so instead, he was stuck alone in his own room, with you across the hall.

the only problem between you both (although he hated to call it that) was how late you stayed up. but even then, you tried to be careful about how loud you were, stepping quietly over the aged floorboards and using minimal lighting to navigate your way through the apartment.

he wasn’t going to call you out for it. it was only a mild inconvenience, and he knew you couldn’t really help it. you had warned him before you moved in that sometimes you got restless at night, unable to sleep no matter how badly you wanted to.

he didn’t mind, he told you, and you had signed the lease. and truthfully, he didn't. but recently, your sleepless nights had become more frequent. for him, he rarely struggled with the problem. he could easily pass out on his bed at any time of the day. but sometimes he would wake up to your footsteps through the thin walls.

part of him worried for you, thinking to himself that this was what, the eighth day in a row he had woken up to you wandering around? while another part of him (a very cranky one) really wanted you to go to bed (for your sake and his own).

he stepped out of his room, blinking rapidly as he tried to adjust to the lighting of the living room lamp that was on. it wasn’t as bright as if you had turned on the overhead lights, but he’d just come from his pitch-black room.

you were curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest and biting the side of your thumb, still unable to get rid of how antsy you felt despite getting up from your bed. you looked up at him as he stepped into the room, the light of the screen reflecting against the side of your face, “oh god, omi. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you.”

the moment he sees the bags under your own eyes, any hint of irritation he felt about being woken up immediately fades. “it’s fine,” he says, coming to sit with you on the edge of the couch, “can you not sleep?”

you exhale a long breath through your nose at the question, “no. it’s been bad lately. i can’t fall asleep or i wake up a few hours later just feeling even more tired.”

“so you’re watching tv?” he says, raising his brows and looking at you. you purse your lips, pouting under his gaze, fidgeting with the sleeve of your shirt.

you give him a small nod, “yeah. i mean, i’m really tired but i can’t sleep so i came out here to watch something.”

“well screens aren’t going to help you fall asleep,” he chides and you sigh.

“i knew you were going to say that. but what else am i supposed to do?” you complain.

“have you tried stretching?” he suggests.

you look at him, brows raised in confusion, “no, why would i do that?”

he rolls his eyes at your sass but it can’t be helped. he really only knows about the benefits of stretching because they’ve been ingrained into his mind from years of volleyball, “it helps relax your body, especially when you're stiff or sore so that you can go to bed. it’s what i do when i can’t sleep.”

“oh,” you reply, playing with a stray string coming out of the couch.

it’s silent for a moment. “are you not gonna do it? are we just gonna sit here in silence?”

you look up at him in embarrassment, “well, i don’t know what stretches to do! you don’t have to stay up with me, omi. you can go back to sleep. i don’t want you to be tired tomorrow.”

he sighs, laying back and sinking into the couch, “i’m not sleeping until you do.”

“well then tell me what i should do,” you say, extending your legs in front of you, placing them firmly onto the ground so you’re sitting up.

he stands and your eyes follow him curiously, unsure of where he’s going. eventually, he’s standing behind you at the back of the couch, and turns your head forward so that you’re looking directly at the wall in front of you. “what are you doing?” you ask, body going rigid.

“i’m just guiding you through some of these stretches, relax,” he answers and feels you calm down, letting him push your head gently towards one shoulder. his hand is on your opposite shoulder, keeping it straight while you feel a stretch in your neck.

“thanks,” you mumble as he repeats the movement for the other side of your neck. he gives you a small “mhm” in response, focused on making sure you’re feeling the stretch without hurting you.

he ends up leading you to the ground, modeling the stretches for you so that you can follow along. he guides you to lay on your side, with one arm extended out in front of you while the other is behind you, and you face each other as you both lay there, arms mimicking a T.

you giggle, unable to control yourself as you stare into his eyes. “what’s so funny?” he chuckles, smiling at the sound of your laughter.

“i just feel so stupid right now,” you answer, shifting slightly in your position. “but this is helping a bit, i think. i’m feeling a little better.”

he hums in acknowledgment of your words, his smile staying on his face before you switch to the other side.

“what’s next?” you ask, sitting up.

“do you know what the cat-cow is?” he asks, brushing off his arms from where they touched the ground. when you look at him, mouth agape, he gives you a defensive look back, unsure of what caused your reaction. “what?” he says, tilting his head slightly.

“omi, i’m not getting on my hands and knees,” you say, embarrassed that you even have to explain yourself, but you’d rather say it than humiliate yourself further on all fours.

“oh my god,” he rolls his eyes, putting a palm to his face, “you’re turning this into something it’s not. i’m not gonna look at you or anything. i’ll even turn away, okay? just do it, it’s good for you. i’m tired of hearing you complain about your back.”

you sigh dejectedly but comply, moving into the position. you can’t deny that you feel less stiff, but you also can’t help but overthink the entire situation. if anyone had told you a year ago that the man you had been crushing on for years was going to ask you to move in with him and months later he’d be on the floor stretching with you because he really wants you to be able to sleep, you would’ve laughed in their face.

but this was reality, and this felt like an intimate moment between you both. you were unsure of what to make of the situation; it had come as a big enough shock that he cared enough about your sleep. but you also shouldn’t have been that surprised. 'he’s just being a good friend,' you try to reason. he asked you to move in because no one in their right mind would want to live under the same roof as atsumu, and you both value a clean, organized house.

but where were you supposed to draw the line between friends and something more?

his careful attentiveness towards you had started to make you think that maybe he saw you as more of a friend as well. you never imagined that he would ever want you to stay in the kitchen with him while he was cooking when it had been a bad day, and you were even more surprised the first time he agreed to watch a movie with you. you considered yourselves good friends but you didn’t expect him to actually want to spend so much time with you on top of everything else he had going on. he never seemed to tire of seeing you around the house; instead, he always made sure to say hi or ask how your day had been.

you wanted to bring it up to him soon, you really did. the feeling was starting to eat away at you, and this night together wasn’t helping in the slightest.

after a few more stretches, you stood up, reaching your arms above you as you yawned. “think you’ll be able to sleep now?” he asks, following you up and dusting off his clothes.

the thought of going back to your stuffy room makes you drop your arms and the content look on your face fades away. you felt tired, but something about your room just felt so unwelcoming. you didn’t want to walk back in there, where the air would feel heavy, your mattress would be too stiff, your pillow too soft, and blanket too scratchy. there was always something that bothered you about your bed every night, and being alone with your thoughts again would prevent you from falling asleep. you’d be stuck tossing and turning in your bed on a bed that never felt clean or comfortable, you could already feel it.

“what’s wrong?” he steps into your line of sight. you look up at him as a thought crosses your mind, making you immediately look back down at the ground, face turning red.

“um–” you start, and then immediately close your mouth. it was a stupid thought.

but what’s the worst he could do? say no? give you a disgusted look? kick you out into the cold after spending half an hour stretching with you? that last one was a little extreme, but maybe you’d say it and he’d laugh in your face. or gag (being dramatic, again). either way, whatever he said, if it wasn’t a yes, your life would be forever ruined.

“y/n,” he says, and you look back up at him, feeling like you’re about to collapse under the weight of his gaze. but your mouth opens, unable to keep it in.

“i just–” you have to stop to take in a deep breath, the words getting caught in your throat. he keeps looking at you the entire time, waiting to listen to what you have to say. “i don’t want to go back to my own bed,” you blurt, finally spitting it out. “it just doesn’t feel right. i don’t know how to explain it, but i know i won’t be able to sleep alone in my own bed. i’m sorry,” you add an apology on at the end, feeling embarrassed by your own confession.

when he doesn’t respond, you feel even worse. “nevermind, forget i said anything, i’m so sorry. thank you for helping me stretch, i’m going to go to bed now–” you spin on your heel, moving to run away as calmly as you can manage when he catches your wrist. you let out a small exclaim of surprise at the touch as he turns you back around.

“don’t apologize. and don’t lie to me. i want you to sleep,” he says, looking away as he runs a hand through his hair, preparing to say his next few words. “would it–” he shuts his mouth, feeling the anxiety settle in his chest, “would it help to sleep with me?”

neither of you are looking at each other. he’s staring at the wall and you’re looking at the floor, face hot and burning. “if you don’t mind, i think it would,” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear and look back at you, letting out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in.

he’s still holding your wrist, too, he realizes, but he doesn’t let go. he runs a thumb along the side of your arm, grabbing your attention again. he’s looking you in the eyes, and he wants to tell you that he’s not uncomfortable with sleeping in the same bed as you. in fact, it’s quite the opposite, but he’s not sure what you’ll say back, so he settles for a neutral response, instead, “yeah. of course i’m fine with it.”

maybe in the morning, when he wakes up next to you, finds your limbs entangled with his under his sheets, and sees the sunlight peeking through the curtains and onto your skin, he’ll be able to choke out a three-word confession. but for now, he only leads you silently to his room, letting you slip under the covers first before he follows after, holding you close.

#sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa #sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader fluff #omi x reader #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa drabble #sakusa fluff #haiykuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader drabble #haikyuu x reader oneshot #haikyuu drabble #haikyuu oneshot #hq #hq x reader #fluff

181 notes · View notes

thoughtsforsoob · 8 months

Text

asking them to buy you pads :( - nct dream

a/n: period season has unfortunately come for me (is it really unfortunate or does that just mean I’m not pregnant 😁 lmao probably not even possible bc I have no bf nor many male friends). Anyways, I hope you enjoy!! I am going to try to do some more writing formats instead of texts but let me know which of you two you guys like best. Thank you and remember that requests are always open :D

mark

To me he seems like a very caring boyfriend. This scenario doesn’t take place very often because he keeps you stocked up all the time if you forget. For the sake of this post, let’s say that you’re at home and he’s on tour. You’re stuck at home, crying to him on the phone about how you forgot to stock up on pads. He’s being the most sympathetic person ever and comforting you while ordering you pads to be delivered. He also throws in some groceries and sweets because you probably weren’t up to going shopping. When it arrives, you groan when he tells you to go to the door but immediately your eyes light up as you see the large delivery. “Anything for my girl. So sorry I can’t be there to make it better :(“

renjun

He didn’t even need to be asked to get more. He either has more or he noticed and went to the store before coming home. So, you get your period that evening and when he’s on the drive home, you call him crying like never before and he’s worried. You tell him your situation and how silly you feel. “I’ll stop by the store. I should be home soon okay? Don’t even worry about it. I’ll also make you something warm to eat and drink for dinner.” He was tired, sure, but you needed him and he loved that.

jeno

jeno is the cutest bf on earth hello???!!! Keeps a period tracker on your phone and one morning, he got the notification that your period should be coming on that day. He trusted it and slipped out of bed, running to the pharmacy and the convenience store to get what he needed for a period care pack. He decided to make one for you ever since you two have been together as a sweet little tradition. You woke up when he was gone and panicked. You called him and cried to him about him leaving, “see you leaving me forever?? I miss you Jen, please come back to me I’ll do anything!” He laughs, “silly girl, I’m just getting your care pack. Your period should be here today.” He comes back home asap and comforts you all day.

haechan

This guy is so silly that he tells you no!! what a silly guy hahaha *my eye is twitching as I type this* You ask him to pick up some pads for you and his way home from schedule and he’s like “nah I don’t wanna. You go do it.” You immediately start to fight back and tell him in a serious tone, “unless you want me to trail blood all over our apartment and then faint in the way to the store, please go get me some pads.” BLOOD? Haechan immediately reconsiders and asks to stop at the store when being driven home.

jaemin

Such a gentleman! Jaemin will never ever say no to you when it comes to asking him to buy you personal care items. He makes sure you get the best quality brand and that you have everything else you might need. Want a ice cream that only is made at a creamery 20 miles away? Done. Want noodles from your favorite spot in the next town over? Don’t even have to ask. He makes sure you’re comfortable the whole time and even tells the kitties to be gentle with their mommy.

chenle

Doesn’t want to show it but he’s so nervous. He might try to tell you no by saying something along the lines of, “you’re so irresponsible why did you not buy more if you knew it was coming soon? plus, this isn’t manly at all.” you threw the hardest pillow you own at his head and start to sob so he takes his ass to the store. he starts to feel bad so he grabs what you need and picks up your comfort take out on the way home. don’t worry, he’ll even cuddle you and feed you if you so wish when he arrives home.

jisung

He’s so nervous. The only reason he goes is because he knows you absolutely need them and he doesn’t wanna get in your bad side when your hormones are all out of wack. When he realizes he forgot to ask you for a picture of the box you need and then you don’t answer calls or texts, he panics. He’s hesitates but ends up asking a store clerk what to get :( he’s so embarrassed but the clerk, noticing how shy he was, commended him for his bravery and helped him select the pads. he buys them plus some candy :)

#nct dream x reader #nct dream texts #nct dream fluff #nct dream imagines #nct fluff #nct texts #nct imagines #nct dream #nct #mark x reader #renjun x reader #jeno x reader #haechan x reader #jaemin x reader #chenle x reader #jisung x reader

360 notes · View notes

grxndprix · 9 months

Text

yan!gojo sneakpeek

--take this sneakpeek of an upcoming oneshot lmao more notes at the end

tw; implied noncon, chasing !!

“What happened? You were so confident a few seconds ago, sweetheart, don’t pussy out now.” Satoru spoke nonchalantly, an air of ease to each movement. He took the lapse in response to lean closer and cage the girl in with his broad arms. She could only respond with more silence, an infinitesimal hesitation stretching further and further into oblivion — The lone and level sands stretch far away.

King of Kings — That is Satoru Gojo’s title. He was the god of this world, the next, the next, the next— Gaze upon his works, ye mighty, look upon this rabbit caught fresh on the arrow, and despair.

The apartment suffocated all life out of it, holstering lain two corpses — One stuck in metamorphisis while the other decayed — Both rotting. Blue walls, once a sunny sky’s color now the endless void of an ocean, gray ceiling matted with the flickering, broken light. She’d known damn well Satoru had a better house, some wealthy mansion-like place, but he never offered for her to stay there, he always just showed up here at hers — And she realized he was waiting for her to beg. For her to rely on him.

But, she didn’t, never. Instead, she worked her own job. She paid her own bills, she paid her rent, she bought all the necessities. She lived for herself. If her own boyfriend took notice of her hardships and decided to stay a sadist? To wait for her to end up begging for his help, to land on his doorstep like mutton on a silver platter?

Hell fucking no.

She assumed the deity just got tired of her stubbornness, because what was once just annoying, his ignorance had become like white noise to her — But recently, she knew he’d been sabotaging her. Coming over more, using up more of her utilities, breaking things she’d try to excuse with a strained smile, ignoring his smug one — He was getting impatient.

The other, well, larger issue that bothered [name] was the fact that he put nothing into the relationship. She was the one with intimacy issues, but she had to initiate every bit of touch, or else he’d ignore her completely. She was the one with a busy schedule, juggling a terribly-paying job, but she paid at every restaurant because Satoru conveniently forgot his wallet when she knows it’s in his pocket.

So, [name] had tried to end it. Gathering up every bit of confidence she had, fighting against the memories of sunset walks and shy handholding — They’d never even kissed — And texted him that they were over. Why give someone who didn’t put anything into the relationship any kind of real closure?

One could assume where that led to.

Here he was, snow-white hair and all, glare piercing straight through her skull, as if it could see everything — And honestly, it probably could.

The silence remained of course, but [name] brought a loose fist to her face, slow and steady. A notion that could be passed off as her brushing away a tear or maybe even rubbing her eyes—

Until her other fist came up as well in a right hook, aimed directly at Satoru’s face. It was stopped by some invisible force that she had no care nor time to question, because the man had been caught off guard. In that split second, the king of kings’ knees threatened to bend.

[name] knew that some demented thought that she wouldn’t hurt him had passed through his mind, which sent a partial shiver down her back, but it only fueled her legs to move. She ran past him, then past the guest bedroom, and straight into her own. He covered the only actual escape, so she needed to barricade and call the police—

A hand stopped the door before she could close it.

☆ OKAYY time for a debrief !! i !! am !! so !! sorry!! for disappearing oh my god jsdhkj i literally ran into the WORST writing block ever, and then studying hit, and then my hiphop recitals fucked with everythingg ughh --- anyway, back to the point !! i am going to try to get back to posting as frequently as i can, especially now that winter breaks here. side note; i also have covid and a supposed csf leak (brain fluid leak) !! doc says ill be fine dwdw lmao no wonder im gonna fail my classes

☆ anyways hope this sneak peek builds up anticipation for the full thing which will be, ofc, full on smut/noncon for my readerss -- byeeeee see u when i post it !!!

281 notes · View notes

fandxmslxt69 · 1 year

Text

Loki (TV) - Speak Now(TV): Enchanted

Loki Laufeyson x f!asgardian!reader

Warnings: some swearing, few thoughts of insecurity, but that';s it. Bad writing lmao. horrible plot too. lazy makeouts too.

Synopsis: You escape to the royal gardens after a shitty start to the ball, but running into an enchanting stranger turns your night for the better. Based on Enchanted by Taylor Swift. Part of a series In The Works.

A/N: Wow this is so bad lmaooo I'll fix it another time but I'm posting it now so I can get into the schedule and be done with!! This is my little very rushed entry for @sarahscribbles Birthday Celebration I LOVE YOU SARAH and you deserve SO MUCH BETTER than this lmao i had so much more planned for this but sadly it all failed with having no wifi this entire vaca, so this is the best I can do. I do promise a part two some time though.

Tags: (I';m tagging everyone who asked to be tagged for this part AND part 2 so I have everyone in one place <3) @divine-knight-hand @the-fox-den @nyxlaufeyson @under00s616 @mischief2sarawr and ofc @sarahscribbles

Word count: 3.5k

There I was again tonight

Forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place

The night, in conclusion, was an utter failure. You had been truly excited as the weeks neared to tonight’s ball. You had hoped for an evening full of dancing and laughs, twirling around in the arms of a handsome guy and enjoying light conversation, maybe even some good food.

So far, the food was the only thing that held out.

You watched from your corner as pairs danced across the floor as music and easy chatter filled the room. Women in dresses of all colours of the rainbow, and men in nicely fitted suits and uniforms. Everyone wore masks, elegant and with elaborate designs that complemented each person’s attire. “This is a waste.” You grumbled to yourself as you tugged at your mask to adjust it in place.

“Perhaps,” One of your friend’s slid into the vacant seat beside you, face flushed from dancing. “You should go ask someone for a dance,” “What?” You snorted. “That’s an ugly look. It’ll seem like I’m desperate,”

“But you are,” She pointed out.

You rolled your eyes, picking at the plate of fruit delicacies in front of you. “It’s alright. I don’t feel like dancing anyway,” She raised an eyebrow, “Were you not talking about how excited you were to spend all night dancing just this morning?” You threw her a look, getting up without bothering to finish your plate. “I think I’ll go for a walk in the gardens,” You said as you quickly fled out of the room.

Being out of the stuffed ballroom should have made you feel better, but you couldn’t help but feel as if you were still caged.

Tonight was meant to be fun. It was meant to be an opportunity. For..for socialising, and meeting people, and making friends and, funnily you thought, perhaps meet someone for the night.

Instead, you walked further through the gardens, trying to ignore all the giggles you heard from lovesick couples as you passed them. When you got further enough from the palace, you slipped off your mask, huffing as you carefully sat down in the wide fields, surrounded by blooming flowers and trees basking in the moonlight.

You took a deep breath, trying to ease the sense of disappointment that grew like an ugly beast in your chest. Caught up in your feelings, you hadn’t realised someone snuck up on you until you heard a soft crunch from behind you. Your head whipped around immediately, assuming a danger perhaps, until your eyes fell on the man.

Good gods.

The man smiled briefly, his mask dangling from his fingers as he seemed to look you over. His hair rested in dark curls on his shoulders, and with the way the moon peeked lightly through the trees and shone on him, he looked heavenly, with a perfect jawline and flawless skin, cheekbones that looked sharp to cut, and eyes that shone with curiosity and mischief. He fit nicely into his suit, with a lean frame that filled the clothing perfectly.

He was, as mortals said, a work of art. A being artists and sculptures would surely sell their homes and families to try and capture his beauty.

I need to calm down.

But he’s gorgeous. There was no hiding it, and you were absolutely sure you stared too long because he raised an eyebrow and the corner of his lips twitched upwards.

Walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy

Vanished when I saw your face

All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you

“Sorry,” You muttered quickly, turning your head back to stare holes at the vast openings of the field. This had to be a joke, but a little part of your brain couldn’t help but get excited.

Handsome young man, a moonlit gorgeous garden, at a ball.

Could it get any more romantic?

But that was stupid- the man probably found you a little pathetic, out here all alone rather than enjoying the ball. And you firmly reminded yourself that there would be no making out and naked activities in the royal gardens. And maybe your friend sent him, and if you were too eager you’d seem truly desperate and it would be oh so humiliating and you’d never be able to show your face again in public and-

“I see you’ve found my secret place,” His voice interrupted your spiral of thoughts.

“Sorry,” You said quickly again. “I wasn’t aware that people could own areas of the royal garden,” You covered your hand with your mouth in horror, refusing to look at the man behind you.

What the fuck was that?

It was quiet and then you heard him chuckle, as if amused by such a rude remark. He made his way to another part of the garden and took a seat. “You’re right, forgive me, it is open to everyone during the balls,”

You didn’t answer him, or even acknowledge him. Your cheeks were blazing red with horror. From the corner of your eye, you could see him sitting under a tree a little away from you, head ducked low as he…

Is that a book? Is he reading? At a ball?

You looked behind you to the sound of the light music and chatter coming from the palace, then back at the man by the tree. “Why aren’t you inside?”

“Why aren’t you inside?” He replied, not even looking up from his book.

“I asked first,”

He looked up slightly then, raising a perfect eyebrow. So? He challenged silently.

You rolled your eyes, turning away from him to watch the leaves dance lazily in the evening breeze. You folded and unfolded your hands in your lap. “I got bored of dancing,” Right.

He didn’t answer right away, a few beats passed as soft music and gentle wind filled the space. Then, he said slowly, as if entertained by all this, “Liar,”

Your head whirled back to stare at him. “Excuse me?” “Liar,” He said, shrugging like it’s no big deal.

“You’re calling me a liar?” “Is there anyone else here to call a liar?” You could see the small twitch of his lips, and how a little smirk forms as he watches you.

Shit. You had to fight down your own little smile. Perhaps he’s an ass, and maybe a little suspicious- but he’s got a lot more banter and brain in him than everyone else back in the ballroom.

“And why are you calling me a liar?”

“Because,” He closed his book dramatically, leaning forward and you could feel trouble radiating off of him. “No one comes to a royal ball to ‘get bored of dancing’,”

“You don’t know that,” “I absolutely do. It’s the biggest event of the year, people come specifically prepared to dance until they can’t feel their feet,” “Fine,” You huffed. “It was getting stuffy, and I was tired of all the war talk and gossip, so I came out here for fresh air,”

Again, that stupid smirk. “You’re lying,” He said in an overly annoying sing-song voice. “I’m not!” You glared at him. “You are horribly rude,”

“Yet you find it amusing,” “I absolutely don’t,” Childishly, you stuck your tongue out at him, and he laughed, throwing his head back lightly and filling the space between you with such a warm, delightful sound.

The playful conversation starts

Counter all your quick remarks

Like passing notes in secrecy

You really couldn’t stop the smile that broke across your face. “Alright then, if you suddenly know everything, why do you think I’m out here?” You asked after his laughter died down.

“Hm…” He tapped a finger to his chin. “No one wanted to dance with you,” You gasped loudly. “Are you calling me undesirable?” “No m’lady,” He had that awfully cute smile again. “You said that, I just said I think no one wants to dance with you,”

You shook your head. “You are unbelievable! You know what, you’re terrible company,” He shrugged. “Then go back inside, perhaps get a chance to dance with the prince,” He said it easily, like he could care less if you stayed or left, but you had the strange feeling that he was challenging you to stay.

You hummed, pretending to think it over. “You know what, I don’t want to go inside,” “But I thought I was terrible company?” “You are,” You smiled innocently. “But I like the gardens,” He’s too funny to pass up on.

“Or perhaps you like me,” He had that shit-eating grin, and something in your chest started tingling, secretly hoping you could get more of his smiles. “Besides, you’ll pass up the chance to catch the crown prince’s attention just to sit in some garden?” “Blond isn’t really my type,” Stop talking stop talking stop talking.

He frowned, staring at you weirdly, clearly taken aback but such a dumb statement.

“Blond…isn’t your type,” He repeated, and you simply nodded. “So…you’d give up the chance at marrying the next ruler of this realm…because he’s blond,” “Exactly,” Like it made perfect sense. “What can I say? It’s less competition for the other women. I’m being kind,”

“You’re insane,”

“You asked!”

“Yes but come on, it’s the crown prince,” He raised an eyebrow. “Would you rather marry the farmer’s son? The baker boy, perhaps?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, stupid. There’s other royalty around, obviously. But it’s not like anyone has a chance,” “Other royalty?” He got up then, gracefully making his way over with his book and mask in hand. He sat down beside you. “Do indulge me, what other royalty is there?” Holy. Shit.

It took you a second to properly process his question. Maybe you lacked romance in your life, maybe you were too isolated, or maybe you were just really desperate for some decent conversation tonight, but you felt like you were losing your everloving mind.

He was breathtaking. You thought from afar he was beautiful, but now this close? You felt the air die in your throat as you properly looked over his face, your eyes catching on every detail.

His sharp angles.

The exact green of his eyes- emerald, pretty much identical to the jewel.

And the way he looked when the light shine of the moon hit his face? And the wind gently combed through his hair? He looked heavenly.

Godly, even.

And it was enchanting to meet you

All I can say is, I was enchanted to meet you

You were definitely staring (again) and he turned to look at you, those pretty lips forming another stupid smirk. “Yes?” You looked away. “Nothing. What was the question?”

He chuckled. “What other royalty is there?” “Oh, yes,” You frowned. “Are you new around here?” “No, why?” “There’s two princes. Prince Thor, and prince Loki,” “Ah right,” He pursed his lips. “But only one is looking for a bride,” “Yes well, all princes must eventually find a partner, no?” He shrugged. “I suppose so. So, if you won’t go for the blond, you’ll go for his brother? Woo him with your snarky comments and strange conversation habits?”

You smacked his arm lightly. “You really do not know how to talk to a lady. And no one ever said I’m “going for” anyone’s brother. I don’t want to marry a prince,” “That is the biggest lie I have ever heard,” He pointed at you accusingly. “Everyone wants to marry royalty,”

“Nope,” You shook your head. “Not me,” But you could tell from the way his eyes shone with mischief and the smile on his lips that he could so easily read through you.

“So you don’t have epic fantasy daydreams about marrying a handsome prince and gaining status, riches and power and living in the palace? Absolutely none about becoming royalty of Asgard? Nothing?”

“Weeellll,” You smiled wide. “Perhaps,” “Was he blond, your prince?” “I just told you, I’m not into blonds,” He nodded, like this was absolutely serious and he was understanding it better. “Right, so you had dreams about prince Loki then,” “What?!” Your eyes widened. “I didn’t say that!” “You hinted at it,” He pointed out.

“You- I did not! You are so arrogant, thinking you know everything!” You glared at him, face flushed from his accusation. I don’t even know why I’m even having this conversation with a strange man I met less than 10 minutes ago,” You plucked a flower from nearby and started plucking off the petals one by one, watching them slowly fall onto your skirt. “You think you’re so smart and you make horrible accusations-” “Why are you getting so defensive?” He sounded amused by this.

“I’m not!” You definitely were. “You’re just getting on my nerve,” You turned to glare at him again, but he had a funny look on his face, he didn’t even look upset, or confused, or insulted. He was simply…..looking at you. “I think you need to work on your manners,” “And I think you’re beautiful,” He said suddenly as he leaned in, the words a soft whisper, a secret shared between two strangers hidden away from the world.

You felt your face heat up, and your heart started beating faster. A swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach, and you suddenly had the urge to fall back and kick your feet in the air while giggling.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

“Oh..um, oh,” You laughed nervously, looking down shyly. But you could still feel his eyes on you, his face close enough that you can see his bottom lashes brush his cheek lightly, and the small movements of his face. “Thank...you. Thank you,” You swallowed hard. “You’re…uh, really beautiful too,” You rushed the words out. You looked up a little to see his green eyes widened a fraction, a little smile tugging at his lips, and then the faintest colour red dusting his cheeks.

“Thank you,”

You nodded dumbly and looked away again, biting your lip to keep the laugh bubbling inside of you to stay down.

“What’s so funny?” He whispered.

Fuuck. You could feel yourself panic a little. He was so close. So pretty too. How could a man be so pretty? He had to be magic, right? He’s too gorgeous to be anything less than ethereal.

“Nothing,” You paused, biting your lip harder before a smile broke across your face, and a light laugh escaped you. “Sorry, sorry nothing’s funny,” His face broke into a smile. “You know, it’s rather rude to laugh at someone and avoid eye contact. It insinuates that you’re laughing at me,” His tone was teasing.

“I’m not!” You laughed again, shaking your head. “I’m not. Laughing at you, that is,” “Then look at me,” His finger lifted your chin up, and you sucked in a breath at how close you were. A few hairs apart, his pretty eyes looking at you in a way that made your heart flutter and insides melt to goo. And that smile.

You felt your chest squeeze with a sense of familiarity. That smile…it’s familiar, like you’ve seen it before a million times but yet, you can’t place where.

“I…” You started, and his eyes fell to your lips. “I want to kiss you,” He declared suddenly, and you swore the earth danced faster.

“Kiss me then,” You replied, and just as fast, his lips fell lazily to yours.

This night is sparkling, don’t you let it go

I’m wonderstruck, blushing all the way home

There were no good enough words that could describe how his lips felt against yours. In the back of your mind, you grabbed desperately at the languages you know, mortal and beyond, to find something to put this in words, a phrase, a string of letters, to explain the feeling of melting completely at his touch.

His soft lips moved slowly against yours, his hand moved up to cup the side of your face and pull you closer. It wasn’t a heated or lustful kiss, nor overly passionate. More of…a gentle caress, a lazy press of plush lips against yours in a pretty garden under the moonlight. He pulled away just as fast, his eyes searched your face.

You were…breathless. It was the most simple kiss and yet, it seemed to have turned your world upside down. Your mind was empty, yet at the same time it spun a million miles an hour but with no coherent things.

Just the thought of him. His lips. His kiss. His pretty eyes and perfect face and gentle hands. Your heart stuttered. You couldn’t help but think, if you went a lifetime without another kiss like that? You might go insane. You’d rather him kill you. Death would be better, more merciful than knowing you’d never experience this again.

There it was.

“Ya’aburnee,” You muttered softly, and when his eyes snapped up from staring at your lips to your eyes, you realised you said that out loud.

“What?” “Nothing,” You shook your head. “Nothing,” “Not nothing,” He moved closer, your knees now touching and you felt the renewed need to kiss him. “What did you say?” “A word,” Your eyes fell to his lips.

“Mm,” He leaned in, eyes fluttering shut and brushing his lips against yours. “What does it mean?” “Um,” You felt a hazy rush course through you, and you couldn’t form proper words. “I don’t know,” You lied quickly, chasing after his lips.

A look flashed across his face, as if he knew you were lying, before it disappeared. He pressed his lips against yours again and you sighed happily. He kissed you deeper, his tongue slipping into your mouth and suddenly, you were both all over each other.

He pulled you onto his lap, your dress bunching up at your thighs as you straddled him, your kisses growing sloppy as your tongues tangled together and your breathing got heavier and turned into heated pants. His hands tugged at your hair, and yours ran through his soft curls, making their way down over his shoulders and down his chest, searching and feeling the clearly built body underneath.

You pulled away after a few minutes, eyes searching his face. His now slightly bruised, and the flush of his cheeks and the wildness of his eyes. He smiled softly and your heart did another flip. He opened his mouth to say something before snapping it shut, a frown forming on his face as his eyes wandered to stare behind you.

You shifted around to turn. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” His hands fell to your hips. “Just…do you hear that?”

You frowned then too, straining your ears to listen.

“No…? What are we-...oh.” You heard the soft ticking of the palace clock, and the soft slow instrumental signalling the last dance of the night. “Oh. I guess we lost track of the hour,” He hummed. “Yes, it does seem so,” He paused, as if thinking something over before smiling. “Dance with me,”

Your eyes widened. “What?” “Dance with me,” He repeated again. “You didn’t get a dance tonight, did you? Well, let’s fix it.” “But we’re all the way out here,” You stated dumbly.

He raised a perfect eyebrow. “And?” “I-...well…I mean-...” He stared at you intensely, his emerald eyes searching your face. You sighed, shaking your head. “Okay,” You finally gave in, because with the way he looked at you there was no way you could’ve said no anyway.

You got up off of him, dusting off your dress and patting back into place. When he got up and you caught his face in the light of the moon, your heart soared at the smudges of lipstick on his lips and on the corners, you couldn’t help but give a satisfied smile. His hair fell in messy curls now and he needed a minute to adjust his suit.

You softly patted down your hair, trying to fix the hair do and your appearance despite the lack of mirrors.

He took a step towards you, holding out his hand. You took it and he pulled you flush against him and you had to strain your neck full up to meet his eyes. He grinned that same wicked smile and placed a hand on your waist as he carefully began dancing through the music with you.

It was a magical experience, to be in this gorgeous garden and have the chance to dance away under the stars with a beautiful stranger. It felt straight out of a fairy tale.

All too soon, the music faded and you could hear the faint sounds of clapping and cheers from the party guests. You looked around, then back up at your pretty stranger with a small smile. “That was fun,” You whispered, as if scared that too loud of a noise would shatter this delicate moment.

“Mm, very much,” He smiled back softly, his other hand dropping to rest on your hips. He leaned down, his lips ghosting over yours and you felt that lazy hazy cloud over you again. “We should get back,” He mumbled between kisses.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and pressing your lips to his. His smell was intoxicating, and the feel of him so close made you dizzy. “We should,” You muttered, before kissing him again. He fumbled with the fabric of your dress, but before he could even think of getting further you pulled away quickly, straining your ears to hear the far away noise of horses and loud chatter.

Right. End of party. Oh god.

You looked back at him, a mournful ache coursing through you. “I have to get back,” He frowned. “What? Why? Stay here,” He pulled you closer but you only shook your head. “I can’t! I came with my family, they’ll be looking for me soon,” You reluctantly detached yourself from him and quickly worked to fix yourself up. He looked like he was about to argue, but he simply nodded. “Very well. I’ll…walk you back?” You grinned and nodded back. “Thank you,” You quickly grabbed your discarded purse and mask before linking your arm to his as he began to lead the way back, his mask swaying back and forth in his free hand. You snuck a few glances at him as you neared the palace, and you swore in the light of the surrounding palace area he seemed to almost…stiffen, and something slipped over his face. He looked so damn familiar, you cursed yourself for not being able to piece it together properly. You still felt dizzy from the eventful evening, and who could blame you?

When you made it to the carriages and turned to face him, smiling a little nervously. “Bye I guess,” A small smile ghosted over his lips as he let go of your arm, his hands now resting behind his back as he stood in all his beautiful glory. You basked in his beauty for a few seconds more, before something in your mind clicked.

There’s no fucking way. Your eyes widened, but you tried to keep your mind from spinning out of control. The way he stood now, the expression on his face- empty- but with eyes as wild as a storm, no wonder you thought he looked familiar. He held himself like royalty, he was regal and elegant and majestic in a way no other person could ever be.

He was, in every sense, magical.

You felt…enchanted by his presence, and you were sure you were staring.

You swallowed hard, mentally calming yourself down from the fact that you’ll probably never experience this again.

“Thank you for the dance, your highness,” You said as quickly and politely as possible. You caught sight of the way his eyes widened and his expression went from emotionless to absolute shock. You turned around and practically ran for your life towards your carriage, already spotting your friends waiting by.

As you got into the carriage, greeting your friends and ignoring their very obvious questions, you felt a pang of sadness hit through you at the thought of the night ending, but then a bit of joy, because you just got to dance with the prince, and nothing would get more magical or enchanting than that.

I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew

I was enchanted to meet you

#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki fluff #Loki (TV)#Loki (Taylor's Version)#<- YES thats the name of the series now idc??? STAY TUNED FOR MOREE <3

167 notes · View notes

monstrouslyobsessed · 1 month

Text

life updates and then some

oh dear, i've been gone for quite a long while, huh? i'm so, so sorry and i really, REALLY do appreciate all of your concerns and sweet messages! it's heartwarming to know that my works are still being loved even in my absence. yall deserves some explanations so ima get right in it.

mild cw ahead: bizarre financial abuse (?), depression, and nongraphic medical concerns.

these past few months were pretty rough, especially with the financial aspects, personal matters, and my health, both mental and physical, had been going downspiral to the point that my writing had become complete nonexistent and that i lowkey hated every word i put down. i won't get into too much of details, but the short of it, an estranged family member (and trust when i say they are estranged for very good reasons) pulled a fast one via some kind of legal fraud (???), which hurts my financial situation and impacted my ability to pay bills. im still a huge wtaf over it, i won't lie, but it is something getting sorted out atm via official and legal means (fun times to be had!!!). im incredibly lucky to be living with a very understanding person though who also got very angry on my behalf so don't worry about my current living situation.

health wise, doctors found something wrong with one of my organs but they couldn't determine the issue. since then, life had been a struggle.

with my health was the first thing to start for me, it's nothing fatal or too life altering, fairly mild imo (so say i with stupidly high pain tolerance, apparently), but it's kind of something i need to keep aware of with my consumption. but boy tis was not fun living with discomforts with my own body for a while. rest just fell into places afterward, unfortunately, but that's how the life go--you'll always have your ups and downs, just cherish the present while you can.

anyway, i can't promise i'll be posting regularly again given my situation(s), not as on a semi-frequent schedule, which absolutely does make me sad because i really do love making monsterfucker contents, not just for myself but for you lovely readers as well. hopefully i'll be back sooner than later. that said…

i do have a super overdue commission i'm going to post very soon! just got one last scene to get through (it's currently at 8.1k words....!) and get it edited and make it pretty--and bam! it'll be done and posted. so do look forward to that, at least.

heck, i'll leave yall with this teaser line at the start of the final scene!

“Let us give them quite a show, hm?”

just gonna...get through pron writing lmao <3 yet again, thank you all so very much for caring and i really do miss you and your kind words. please take care of yourselves, lovelies!

in the meantime, i'm going to clean out my blog a bit and i'll try to reply some of your asks later too. if you have anything random, asking for advice, or anything related to my ocs or my aus, ask away. my inbox is always open for yall <3

#☠️monster is whispering...#will delete later #☠️not writing...

26 notes · View notes

oceanofsinners · 1 year

Text

Yan mental hospital patient x their sweet, oblivious therapist<3

[mdni, or do, i really couldn’t care less i’m not your parents. uhhh tw/cw for: violence, attempted murder i guess?? one small suggestive comment i had to add lmao, manipulation, general yandere stuff y'know? lmk if i should add anything else. also first post omg??]

Dakota was tired of the plain white walls, the doors with locks from the outside only, and the constant surveillance and prying eyes of the place he grew to see as his “home” because of his very frequent visits.

He constantly went to the mental institution, leaving for only a few days before coming back.

Younger kids and visitors looked up to him, and he enjoyed their company, despite not understanding why they did. He let them touch his scars and braid his hair. He was an excellent role model, despite it all.

Dakota found the schedule of getting up, getting vitals checked, going to breakfast, doing group therapy and so on annoying, as anyone would.

Some days, he lays in bed — till a security guard comes and drags him out — wondering, “how the hell is this boring, horrible, stuffy place supposed to fix people?”

He never understood. And he doubted that he ever would. Till you came. Then, it seemed, like all his old problems solved themselves and fresh problems arose. [including the one in his pants.]

He's been through multiple therapists, older and younger, brand new and those who've been here for years. None can help him. Instead, he just lies till he's released. And then comes back within days. [always having to be restrained by multiple cops, coming back kicking and screaming that he's going to kill himself and everyone else.]

However, as soon as he saw you, his day brightened immediately. Other staff members were reasonably shocked that the gloomy, mean, depressed, easily upset, violent Dakota seemed...happy for once.

Except, you're not his therapist. He's pissed. Of course he is, you're the first person he's ever liked in this stupid fucking place! [don't mention the fact the two of you haven't even met.]

With a little asking [blackmailing.] around, he learns who's your patient. His name being Quinn, it's around 3 pm, around the time where everyone's free to do whatever, and just before therapy starts. Perfect!

He walks up to the guy who's your patient, swiping a pencil off the kids' table. [none of which protest, knowing by now that it's best they don't.]

Dakota taps Quinn on the shoulder, making the shorter guy turn around, his mouth open to say something, before a sharp scream escapes instead.

Dakota has a crooked grin on his face as he forces the pencil further into the guys eye socket, yanking it out as Quinn drops to the floor, and he stabs the — now broken — pencil into his throat, just a couple inches from his artery.

Quinn chokes on his own blood, while security guards force Dakota off the smaller boy, forcing him to solitary confinement. Dakota laughs as they pull him away, while nurses do their best to keep Quinn alive.

“Stupid fucking homicidal maniac.” One guard growls as they shove Dakota into his cell, while Dakota grins the entire time, uncaring of what the others say.

A couple hours pass, and Dakota once again grows bored and weary of the bleak walls, the uncomfortable bed, and the never-ending silence.

Eventually, the door opens. He's laying on his bed, looking up at the plain white, boring ceiling. He doesn't cast a look at the intruder, and couldn't care less who they are.

“Your name's Dakota, right?” Dakota flinches at the sound of your voice. His head snaps over towards you, where you stand in the doorway, and he can see one of the guards watching carefully.

You step further into the room, accessing the room with a frown. You seem to be just as upset as Dakota with the way the room looks.

“I saw what you did to Quinn — my patient —, and I asked if I could become your therapist instead. They agreed, of course. Which is why I’m here.” Dakota’s distracted by just how sweet you sound, and the kind smile on your face despite it all.

He has a hard time wrapping his head around it. You saw him attempt to kill someone, and yet, you're being kind to him? It doesn't make sense. You don't make sense.

You sit down opposite of him on the bed, and begin asking the normal questions. Instead of lying like he normally would, he actually tells the truth. It shocks both you and him.

“What do you go by?” “He/him.”

“Why are you here currently?” “I tried to kill myself and a friend.”

“Do you feel regret for what you did?” “No.”

The questioning goes on for hours, and the two of you talk for hours, far longer then your supposed to. Therapy ended a long time ago.

No, now it's more like a chat between you two, the way you two connect is like two pieces of a puzzle.

You glance up at the clock, eyes widening when you notice the time. You apologize for having to leave so abruptly, and Dakota frowns in response.

[silly, silly you, thinking you could leave him so easily? as if.]

Dakota grabs your hand, tearing up as you glance down at him. “Ple-Please, don't leave, I—I...I’m afraid of being alone...pl-please...�� He closes his eyes, swallowing thickly.

You pause, taking pity on him as you sigh, nodding as you sit down on the creaky bed once again.

He lays his head on your chest, making you tense up as you slowly put your arm around his shoulders.

“Y’know, we really shouldn't be doing this. Isn't this going against some law?” You mumble against his ear, and he shrugs.

“I—I don't know...Y-You don't have to stay.” Dakota’s voice trembles, tears sliding down his cheeks as he squeezes his eyes shut, wrapping his arms around your waist.

You bite your lip, glancing at the door, he was right. You could leave. But your job is to make him better, leaving him would only make it worse...right? You shake your head.

“No, it's fine, I’ll stay. But I have to leave early in the morning, kay, Dakota?” You glance down at him, your eyes meeting bright green ones. He nods, smiling against your skin.

“That’s okay! Just, don't leave yet, please?” You nod once again, and the two of you talk while you slowly nod off. Eventually you lay down, him still laying against your chest.

You fall asleep with the red haired boy laying on your chest, a sick, crooked grin on his face. He moves out of your grip, straddling your hips.

He plays with your hair as he watches you sleep, oh so peacefully, by the side of an attempted murderer. It's almost insane how you fell asleep, knowing he was by your side and you two were alone.

He leans down, his chapped and bloody lips meeting yours, it's delicate, barely even a kiss.

He giggles giddily, pulling out your phone and rolling to your side, head on your chest and phone in hand as he goes through it.

He deletes anyone in your contacts who may threaten your relationship, takes photos of you two, amongst other things.

Slowly, his eyes grow heavy, and he stuffs your phone back into your pocket, closing his eyes as he curls around you possessively.

The two of you sleep like that til someone comes in the morning, and sees you and him curled up, the thin blanket thrown on the floor by Dakota so when it got cold you'd curl around him.

Dakota’s eyes are already open by the time the nurse walks in, giving her the middle finger and that crooked grin on his face while her eyes widen, and she slowly walks out, closing the door.

You're completely unaware of the monster you're supporting, and it's going to stay that way, whether you like it or not.

#┆︴YOUR HOST ٭ NICO #yandere #x reader #oc x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #first post #oc

101 notes · View notes

bones-of-a-rabbit · 4 months

Text

status of babbit's life yeehaw

tl,dr: busy moving and a couple of other big life things that just complicate things, but well on the way to being back to normal! new fic chapters and better quality art coming soon.

tl,wr (too long, will read):

Helloooo what's up its me, Babbit. or Rabbit. or Bones. or Idiot Moron Menace Child, idk im not picky lol

i know a lot of you guys have been wondering wtf is up with my upload schedule lately and the extreme lack of even basic content and also i am extremely aware that i have not updated my fics in a few millennia and for that i am very, very sorry. this post is to answer a few questions you might have, if anyone was curious about the 'reason' instead of just the 'when.'

my family and i have had a hell of a year, y'all. like, jesus christ, i really hope things level out and calm down for a while once we're moved in to our new apartment bc god damn we are so tired. the list goes: 1. we got kicked out of the house we were renting-to-own bc we wouldn't be able to afford the new rate, so they gave us two months to find a new place to live (not long enough, it turns out) and then foreclosed to get us out. 75% of our belongings were still in the house when we had to leave. that includes all of our christmas ornaments- including the ones kept for decades, and the ones made by me and my siblings, and the fancy ones made from blown glass. 2. the first night out of the house, one of our dogs, freaked out by the strangeness of the situation, panicked and slipped her harness and ran off. that was over a year ago. we haven't seen her since. 3. my cat got very ill and became unable to eat. she passed away almost exactly a year ago. she had been 14-15, and had been my baby since i was maybe 8. 4. one of the tires on my dads car blew out. during the night, while it was parked on the curb so he could put the spare on in the morning, one of the in-tact tires was fucking stolen LMAO 5. we applied to rent at so many places and got rejected so, so many times. it costs money to apply, btw. we're talking like $200+. no, u don't get that money back. 6. i lost my job bc knowing i would have to work 8 hours at a job that stresses me out to the point of exhaustion (at a place where no one takes me seriously and would actively laugh at me when i try to express my need to step away for a minute) sometimes paralyzed me and made me sick to my stomach and made me feel unable to leave the house, and i called out one too many times. a day after my birthday, too! 7. just recently, like within the last week, my dad's car got fuckin totalled!!!!!

THE GOOD NEWS IS WE OFFICIALLY, FINALLY, AFTER A SOLID YEAR, HAVE AN APARTMENT!!!!! I'LL HAVE MY OWN ROOM AGAIN!!! THERE'S AN ENTIRE KITCHEN!!!!!!!

the 'oh god' news is we still have to move in, and replace a lot of the stuff that we just couldn't take with us when we moved out (mostly stuff like bookshelves, dining table, dressers, etc) AND get the few things we could cram into a storage center out and moved into the new place, which isn't a lot but at the same time is more than we can realistically handle on our own. and then, we have to get my mums cats (a pair of kitty sisters that we had to temporarily house with my aunt, who got tired of looking after them and let them outside to be outdoor cats a few months ago. yes, this was an extremely shitty thing to do, and we've been working hard to get them back safely) AND my gecko (who my cousin has been looking after, even tho feeding him worms freaks him out LMAO yes i plan on compensating him) moved in, as well... basically oh my god there is so much to worry about but at the same time it's nice to have to worry about it bc it means we're making progress sdkfhsjdkfhdsjfh

basically i am just so tired but so busy and also thinkin abt so much im so sorry for lack of stuff but i am so looking forward to being able to bounce back, pls stick with me, it'll be sorted out soon i think and then i'll hit y'all with some good stuff i promise!!!!!!!

anyway thank u guys i love u and appreciate u all for sticking around

#bones of a rabbit #rambles #life update #lore of a babbit #babbit lore #personal stuff #vent #rant #in case anyone was curious #long post #tldr #tw death #tw grief #tw pet death

36 notes · View notes

muzanswaifu · 11 months

Text

Ive seen a lot of people confuse me leaving for “people being mean to writers” or getting hate for the things i write of how i write them but its not

But Im not leaving just bc of the audience, i can handle some hate and honestly it was kinda fun from them bc ik that hate comes from jealousy and trolling

Im leaving because of other writers and my “friends”

Ik i said i would get into it and i really dont want to all that much bcuz im tired and just wanna be done with this but it feels wrong to leave under a false assumption and let people think their actions dont have consequences

Ive dealt with a lot from my peers on here, back talking, hating, straight up bullying, and i just cant anymore

I cant deal with drama irl AND on the internet, bcuz at the end of the day i can just delete everything on here and be done with it all so thats wat im gonna do

Tbh this has been building up for a while, i can only handle so much from “friends” and irl i cut people off pretty quick and on here should be no exception but ive fucked up and let people do watever too long and its bitten me in the ass

Yes ik im dramatic lol, ive gotten that a lot and a lot of people hate me for, a lot of people love me for it, its how i am and it keeps things interesting. I get it, i like to make a lot of call out posts. Y? Bc people deserve to be called out and idgaf ab appearances on here. If someone did something bad, im gonna call them out bc last i checked its my blog and i can do wat i want. If u wouldnt do it, thats fine, its ur decision, and this is mine

Yes, i dont post a lot, I. Am. Busy. I have work. I have school. I have a social life. I cant write smut all the time even tho i want to, and at the end of the day, its not my job to write smut all day so people can read it and move on. I like to interact with yall, its fun, i like to talk to a lot of different people on her since my irl friends arent really into anime. Apparently people think im a loser for that? Ok? Sorry i like to talk to people on the internet when im bored instead of producing smut all day for people to read, ig i shouldve remembered im only on here to provide content since i dont deserve to have some fun, my mistake

Requests? Requests r a generosity. So many of my requesters have been absolute angels with being patient in receiving their requests, happy to just see me writing or interacting at all. Others have hounded me regularly telling me im lazy and selfish for not completing my requests, saying im an asshole for not completing them over my own projects bc “they asked first”. LMAO, U WRITE IT THEN???? i dont owe anything to anyone, certainly not someone who comes here solely to read my fics, not even leaving any interaction or encouragement whatsoever, then leave.

The icing on the cake? The tip of the iceburg? Discord of all places. Im sorry some of u didnt enjoy my server, i really am. Ive never used discord before and me and the mods did the best we could and im sorry i couldnt be as attentive to it due to my busy schedule

Im sorry i couldnt get there in time to stop conflicts or just straight up call people out, and im sorry someone had to make another server since they didnt like how i was handling mine bc i didnt take their side in a fight that THEY WERE WRONG IN? But i tried to be nice, tried to defend her and nicely explain y she was she cant say anything they want in any situation bc people get hurt. but it didnt matter. Y? Bc apparently i cant tell people what they can and cant say…

And that made me realize something! Theyre right! Theyre absolutely right and im so stupid for not seeing it until now! I cant stop people from saying things to me. I cant stop people from talking shit ab me. I cant stop people from even saying things on my own blog and server! I just cant. Bcuz in the end, people r gonna say what they want and do what they want bc people dont wanna learn. They dont wanna talk. They dont wanna hear ab how what they do or say affects others. They just wanna do what the want when the want, and they wanna be allowed to, bc fuck everybody else. Everybody is the victim in their own story, and i deserve to be the victim in mine.

And what would a victim do in this situation?

Leave.

136 notes · View notes

captainjunglegym · 7 months

Text

WIP WEDNESDAY - 13/03/2024

Tagged by jon @bigassbowlingballhead love u pal <3

I am on somewhat of a short writing sabbatical I tell myself. I've posted nearly 75,000 words in six weeks which is a lot for me. So I'm taking this week to relax from my WIPs before starting to post scheduled oneshots and start a new chaptered fic.

That being said i wrote a 1500 word fic this morning which you can just have here lmao.

Summary:

Exes Alex and Henry meet at the funeral of Henry's twin George who was killed suddenly aged only thirty-five. They haven't seen each other in four years.

The wind is bitter as it blows down from the top of the hill. It’s March, so it’s that time of year where the sun isn’t quite ready to negate the feel of the chill early in the morning and late into the evening. It’s already eleven am and the sun does feel warm when the wind dies down. A few moments reprieve where Henry doesn’t have to pull his coat tighter around his body or wish that he’d worn something that was more wind proof.

They don’t really make raincoats that are funeral approved, however.

Still, he pulls his thin black pea coat so it doubles over him. It’s too big. It’s not his. It was too big for George too, but his brother loved to wear oversized things. Said it made him feel small and holdable.

The thought crushes Henry. What he’d give to hold George now.

Everyone else has already gone. His mother didn’t even show. Her grief is exponential, increasing and deepening at such a fast rate now that she cannot be touched. Losing her husband young destroyed her, but burying one of her children eviscerated her. Not even the scars of her former self remain anymore.

And Henry understands. More so maybe this time than when his father died. He loved his father so much, but George was his twin, the other half of his soul. Maybe this is what his mother felt. Maybe this is what it feels like to break apart. Except she isn’t haunted by her husband by every reflective surface, by every future birthday. By every photograph of his childhood, every fucking Instagram post. By every friend they had because they didn’t even have separate friendship groups. Everything they had they had together and now Henry inherits it all.

It's too much.

(continues under cut, tags following)

It’s times like these that Henry curses being raised as an atheist. He wishes he could believe that something came after this, that he and George will meet again, but he can’t. People tell him that George is in a better place. A dark part of him agrees that six feet under some fucking dirt is probably better than living in a two bed on Peckham Highstreet. It’s a lot cheaper.

Henry gets the sudden urge to jump into the grave. It’s open, waiting for someone to come and cover George and seal him down there forever. Henry could just jump in with him.

“I didn’t think anyone would still be here.” A voice says from behind Henry, startling him.

He turns to see a beautiful man wrapped up in a warm black coat and scarf. It’s Alex, because of course it is. Who else would be so late to a funeral they miss the entire service. Who else would spring up out of the ground at Henry’s moment of despair like some kind of macabre dandelion.

“Right on time, I see.” Henry tries to snark, but his voice comes out small and fragile.

“My flight was delayed.”

Henry hums. “Nice to know George wasn’t worth flying out a day in advance.”

“Don’t.” Alex says, firmly but not aggressively as he moves to stand next to Henry. “Don’t do that, H.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t act like I didn’t care about him too.”

Henry feels crazed, like he wants to scream and tear off his clothes and jump into the lake and inhale the water.

He lets out a forced laugh instead. “Oh right! Of course. My apologies. Of course my ex-boyfriend who I haven’t seen in four years also cares about my fucking dead twin brother, so much so that he shows up uninvited at his funeral an hour too late. I’m sorry for being so insensitive.”

“H-”

“-No!” Henry shouts. It’s so out of character that it snaps Alex’s mouth shut. He lowers his voice. “No. I don’t know why you’re even here.”

Alex looks down at his shoes. “Would you believe me if I told you Philip invited me?”

Henry scoffs. “Pull another one.”

“It’s true,” Alex says gently. “He called me…after… He called me when, uhm-”

“-When George was stabbed to death in a pub in broad daylight?”

Alex lets that sit for a moment. “Uhm. Yes. He called me again to invite me.” He takes a deep breath and when he speaks again his voice cracks, “we were together for ten years, Henry. I loved George like he was my own family. We were a family.”

And they were. Alex had met Henry at university, and they fell in love almost immediately. Alex had transferred to London and George was assigned to be his ‘buddy’ and he’d always taken credit for introducing Alex to Henry. Always said that he’d have to mention that in his speech at their wedding.

The air leaves Henry’s body, but he doesn’t breathe out. It just evaporates in his lungs. He and Alex never got married. George never got to give his speech. And now George will never be able to give a speech at his wedding. Never be his best man.

But he has to give it to Alex. George was his friend and he know that they’d sort of kept in touch over the years, in an Instagram comment every couple of months. He never begrudged George of that. Their breakup was hard, and Henry got everything. Got their friends, their flat, the whole fucking country. Alex had gone back to Texas and not looked back. George was collateral in their breakup too and Henry knows that losing Alex was tough on him as well.

“H?” Alex is hesitant, but he gently takes Henry’s hand in his.

“I don’t know how to do this.” Henry says suddenly. “I don’t know how to do any of this without him.”

George was his better. The two-minute older brother who was confidant and sociable, who looked after Henry every fucking day for thirty-five years. Who literally and metaphorically held Henry’s hand throughout all of their hardships. Henry remembers their father’s funeral, how Philip was stone silent, and Bea was high, and their mother was vacant. How George, only eighteen, took charge and read a eulogy. He was a lighthouse built onto the rock, so strong and bright.

Afterwards George had cried, they’d both cried, in each other’s arms. But the next day George had got out of bed and forced Henry to do the same.

“It’s going to be hard; I know.” Alex says, squeezing his hand. “But you’re stronger than you give yourself credit. I mean. Look at me. You left my sorry ass.”

Henry thinks about how Alex had lost himself in his work and how their relationship had degraded over six months of broken promises and missed dinners and sitting alone in their apartment. And how it broke him down into nothing before he’d finally had enough. They’d both had enough.

He’s heard that Alex is doing better now. That he’s finally learning how to have that work/life balance that was only a dream to them back then.

“I’m all alone this time.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am. Bea has Michael and the twins. Philip is…well he’s Philip. Mum is completely vacant and our friends are all grieving.”

Henry knows Alex is going to say some placating bullshit like, ‘oh it’s okay you have me,’ like he doesn’t live thousands of miles away.

“You should come stay at the lake house.” Is what Alex says instead.

“What?”

The lake house was their place. Before everything went to shit, they often spent time there, sometimes with their friends, sometimes with Alex’s family, sometimes just the two of them. It’s a haven, really. A place where time doesn’t exist. All sunshine and water and blues skies.

“Come stay at the lake house. Get away from London for a while.”

“But my family-”

“-Be a little selfish for once, H.” Alex turns to him and looks him in the eyes. “I don’t have to be there. You can just come and unwind in the sun. Take a break from this all and have time to grieve properly.”

It’s insane. It’s irresponsible. It’s not possible. He buried his brother an hour ago, his family is falling apart again but.

But this time they all have their own families to fall back on. Their own spouses and kids. Even his mother lives with Philip and Martha and has them to look after her.

Henry lived with George, not out of necessity, but out of love. George who’s dead. George whose dirty tea mug is still on his bedside table and his laundry still in the hamper.

He can’t go back there.

“Okay.” Henry says. “Okay I’ll come with you.”

And, later, it’s hard to get on the plane. But once he’s in the air, he takes his first deep breath in weeks.

[End]

easy tag for @anincompletelist @eusuntgratie @nocoastposts @getmehighonmagic @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @littlemisskittentoes @thinkof-england @happiness-of-the-pursuit @wordsofhoneydew @sparklepocalypse @magicandarchery @sunnysideprince and anyone i've forgotten plus open tag for anyone!!!

#writing tags #my fics

30 notes · View notes

azures-bazar · 2 years

Text

A Man From Another Time

A new one ! No need to remind you about my very strange writing schedules lmao This one came out of a corner of my mind as I asked myself "what if Arthur travelled with Francis Sinclair to 2023 ?"

I think I'll be doing a whole series of Modern!Arthur ! I just love picturing him trying things from the 21st century and being like totally thrilled by his discoveries !

And look at these absolutely gorgeous blue dotted socks

Modern - Arthur Morgan x GenderNeutral!Reader

Word count : 3.1k

Short summary : Somehow, Arthur has time-travelled with you to your own era, and discovers a world he never thought about.

A/Note : It’s based on a French experience, forgive me if it’s inaccurate.

Tags : cute, Arthur being like a kid, modern technologies, where are horses ?, overwhelmed boah, time-travelling, from 1899 to 2023, Francis Sinclair, post chapter 6

******

"Where are the horses ?"

This was the very first thing Arthur asked when you took him out in the city you were living in. His arrival at your place was rather strange and sudden as you woke up one night with him standing in your living room, completely unfazed and scared about something that might have happened earlier on. You had switched all lights on, absolutely terrified by this tall man wearing a union-suit, covered in bruises, coughing blood, unarmed, who looked at you with fear in his eyes. The only thing which made you keep your calm was Francis Sinclair, who was with him, holding him by the shoulders.

"We need some help here !" Francis had told you

You had met Francis while having a drink at the bar. He had first told you about time-travelling, you did not expect it to be true until he made you go through a door which led you straight to Saint-Denis, somewhere in 1899. Francis was a very peculiar man who had enjoyed playing with your thoughts about time-travelling. You never expected to move from an era to another, being somewhat scared to cause a paradox which would lead to some serious issues in your own time. You had watched many movies about paradoxes and did not want ending up into one of them.

The very first thing Francis had explained you was that Arthur had a tuberculosis, leading you to rush to your car in the middle of the night to drive to the nearest hospital. Arthur was absolutely mortified when he got inside, not saying a single word, even when you got to the hospital and dragged him inside. He coughed, still shaken and limping. Francis kept explaining him that you were going to see a doctor, but Arthur felt scared by what was happening. He had followed Francis into this strange door leading to your place, and there he was, with all these folks wearing white blouses and masks surrounding him. He had to remain at the hospital for a few days for his health to stabilise itself with the set of antibiotics given to him. You heard his voice for the first time when he got surprised by the doctor’s response to his illness.

"Tuberculosis has a cure ?"

Yes, his illness had a cure, there was enough hope for him to survive with the modern medicine. If Francis had decided to leave him behind in 1899, Arthur would have died on the top of that mountain in Roanoke Ridge. Francis had brought him to you right after Dutch had abandoned him, and Arthur was still devastated by this set of events that had happened a few minutes ago. In fact, he unexpectedly tried looking around the room to spot you nearby, afraid someone else was about to abandon him. You could not do that, you could not leave this poor man behind.

"You’re gonna be okay, sir." a nurse told him. "What’s your name ?"

"Arthur…" he groaned. "Arthur Morgan... I…I was…-"

"It’s okay, you’re okay."

Tears started streaming on his cheeks as they put an oxygen mask over his bruised face, you had watched him from distance while Francis had explained you the whole situation about Arthur’s old gang falling apart, his father-figure turning against him, his overall sacrifice for his brother. You felt the need to take care of him, Francis did not bring him to you by mistake, he knew you would help.

"It’s alright Arthur, we’re gonna take care of you." the nurse had told Arthur to calm him down

You had spent that night next to Arthur’s bed at the hospital, holding his hand while he was coughing, sobbing while remembering these past events, the way Dutch had betrayed him. You had tried your best to calm him down all night long, almost feeling devastated for this man you did not even know, ready to give up a piece of your own freedom to nurse him back to health and, probably, make him forget about his former life. He was certainly going to have some hard time to accommodate to this world, 124 years ahead of his time.

****

You had been taking care of Arthur for weeks already, Francis having been gone somewhere, leaving you alone with this peculiar roommate. You gave him your room, sleeping on the sofa of the living room in order to provide him with his own personal space and not bother him while you were either cooking, doing your laundry, watching tv or even working from home. For the first few days, Arthur hardly left your room, feeling constantly tired and mostly unable to walk around your place, only making it to the bathroom. These antibiotics given to him were certainly a cause to this permanent exhaustion, but he did not mind. He thanked you for nursing him back to health and being so kind with him perhaps twice a day.

His attitude was sweet, if not downright clingy at times. Arthur’s overall trauma following Dutch’s abandonment led him to develop a permanent need to have you around him, you could not spend a whole day at your workplace because you knew how much your guest longed to have you with him. After searching on the internet, you had found that Arthur was most likely suffering from a severe PTSD, but you did not mind. In fact, you enjoyed having Arthur near you, knowing he was feeling relaxed by hearing your footsteps, your voice, or by just seeing you.

Arthur had put all his trust on you since you brought him back from the hospital. Despite displaying his usual rowdy behaviour at times, he still obeyed your rules. You liked his overall presence at home, it made your life more enchanting to know that you were not going back to your empty place, but were going to see Arthur. It certainly brought the two of you quite close, enough for you to start displaying some physical affection towards him., something he had mostly forgotten following his arrival at your place. Sometimes, you would run your fingers in his hair, and he adored that. He adored everything you were doing to him. You were like an angel, his saviour. The one who almost brought him back to life.

Some moments were certainly funnier than others. When Arthur started feeling better, he finally had the occasion to take a shower instead of rubbing some wet cloth on his body. Poor man spent about ten minutes trying to figure out how your shower worked, absolutely shocked to feel hot water coming of it. You could hear him laugh, not used to this peculiar feeling it gave him. It tickled him ! Sometimes, he would even sing under shower, humming a few old songs with his rather raspy voice. At some point, he nearly broke your hairdryer, not fully understanding how it worked. Oh, and also your coffee machine. Arthur was not good with modern technologies yet.

You had seen him glance through the window for days, looking around your room, reading some of the books you had on your shelves. Once he felt better, he even walked inside the living room and was absolutely amazed by the TV, looking around to see where the projectionist platform was. He had jumped back when you switched it on, swearing at your TV for being so loud. When he first saw your phone laying on the counter, he took it between his hands and genuinely believed it was some piece of decoration.

"What’s that ?" he had asked, not understanding what this device was, looking like a very tiny TV screen

"It’s a phone. I’ll get you one, someday."

"That lil’ thing’s a phone ? You gotta be kiddin’ me !"

"You can even take instant pictures with it. And record stuff."

"Instant pictures and record ? But can you still call folks ?"

Arthur’s rather childish fascination for the modern world was fun to watch. It took you about a week to explain him how your TV worked, how your laptop could be switched on, how he could use your keyboard, having been used to typewriters… or to his own hands. His face, whenever you were switching your phone or your laptop on, was absolutely priceless ! You saw him randomly gaze the ceiling, trying to understand how your light bulb worked from up there. At some point, he kept playing with the switch, being mesmerised by how quick your lights could switch on and off.

"What a progress !" he exclaimed

You had introduced him to 20th century music, he seemed to be fond of rock and roll and awkwardly had danced on some songs from The Doors or The Rolling Stones. At least, he was doing much better than the day Francis brought him, even when he was listening to sad songs like the ones from Johnny Cash. His overall fascination for modern music was beautiful to witness, he even shed tears while listening to some songs he found sad. It was so hard for him to accommodate to this world, but listening to modern music made it easier.

At some point, you decided to take him out to show him the world you lived in. You had bought Arthur some clothes from local thrift stores after explaining him how men were dressing themselves up. He loved tee-shirts and sweatpants, you had mostly seen him wandering around your place dressed in those. Knowing you were going outside to take a walk, Arthur decided to ditch his sweatpants to wear some jeans instead. It suited him well ! You had trimmed his hair every three months, no one would have thought that man was from 1899 at first sight… until he would start talking.

As soon you left your place, Arthur felt overwhelmed by the world surrounding him. He had not stepped a foot outside your place since you brought him back from the hospital following his diagnosis. His first remark was quick to come, he came from 1899, when cars were far from being as popular as they at your time. Where were the horses ? You took your time to explain him that these shiny metallic figures on four wheels were the equivalent stagecoaches, and that motorcycles could be seen as the modern version of horses. At first, Arthur believed horses were all gone.

"So you killed all horses ?!" he gasped, looking somewhat angered and shocked

"Of course not !" you chuckled. "We just don’t use them anymore, but we don’t kill them. Cars are way faster than horses, so that’s why they got built. For us to travel faster."

"What’s the point of goin’ faster if you can’t take time to look around ?"

"Our society makes us want things fast, and cars are one of the tools which allows us to be faster."

Arthur nodded. What an overwhelming sight, a massive amount of information to process ! He wanted to analyse one of the cars parked nearby and moved on to the road to gaze at the wheels, a bus nearly ran into him as you jerked him towards you. Arthur looked petrified when as the bus passed by so fast, clinging his fists onto your shirt. He was obviously not used to see vehicles move at such speed!

"Good lord !" he gasped. "I nearly got killed right here !"

"Alright, I think you’re going to hold my hand."

Arthur did not respond, he did not even react when you grabbed his hand. You started walking on the sidewalk, keeping Arthur close to you while he kept looked around, nearly stumbling a few times, not looking where he was going. You almost felt like you had a giant child with you as he spent about a third of his time asking you what this place was, why there were green and red lights, why the buildings were sometimes this high, where were the sherifs. At some point, he even stopped your walk to glance at the store, exposing clothes for women. Some casual high-waisted shorts with black shirts.

"So women only wear underwear now ?" he asked. "They ain’t covering their ankles anymore ?"

"Some still do. Depending on your cultural beliefs, you can cover your ankles, your hands, or your head."

"And women walkin’ around in their actual underwear is acceptable now ?"

"No. Men and women can’t just walk in their underwear."

You were not ready to explain him anything about swim wear, he would probably confuse bikinis and boxers with actual underwear. Arthur was discovering a new world, enough for you to smile at him when he was stopping to look at casual things which were not this casual in his time. He even got completely amazed by a screen moving on a nearby billboard, showing an image of a Neil Armstrong going during the landing on the moon. An exhibition about Apollo 11 was currently available in your city.

"What’s that ?" he asked, pointing at the image

"What ? The rocket ?"

"I get it’s a rocket, but why is thy feller going down ? Where was he ?"

"Oh, that’s Neil Armstrong about to set foot on the moon. There’s an ex…-"

"Someone set foot on the moon ?!"

He was shocked by this, as his core memory was still focused on 1899, with electric chairs still in progress and planes being only prototypes. Arthur would have been around 106 years old in 1969, provided he did not have tuberculosis, survived two World Wars, the Wall Street Crash of 1929 and the Military Administration until 1944. You decided to take him to the exhibition for him to learn more about the events which led to the Apollo 11 mission, Arthur did not let go of your hand, asking you several questions about the short movies displayed, spatial suits, even what a rocket looked like. His puppy eyes glancing around the exhibition made your day more bright, he was almost not the same man the one Francis had brought you months ago !

After the exhibition, you took a break in the park. Arthur casually took a cigarette out of one of his pockets. He was looking at people walking by, families and simple town folk, dressed so differently than people from his own era. For months, he had not left your place, he barely knew what people looked like and how they behaved. He still tried greeting them, but a vast majority of them did not respond to his peculiar politeness. People did not greet each other anymore, at least in cities, and it somehow made him sad. Arthur suddenly turned back to you and pointed a plane passing above your city.

"Y/N ! What’s that ?!"

I"t’s a plane, Arthur." you smiled. "People take them to travel faster. Faster than cars."

"Can we try goin’ on a plane ?"

"Sure thing, but not now."

"That’s so amazing ! I wasn’t born in the right era !"

You wanted to contradict him. As far as you knew, you had experienced numerous financial crises, were on a brink of a new war and had gone through a global pandemic. You deeply wanted to tell Arthur that he was somewhat wrong, but the sheer innocence he kept displaying made you change your mind. In no way could you spoil this moment, stop the discovery of this new world.

After a day wandering around the city, Arthur felt exhausted. He had not walked this much for weeks, still trying his best to remain in shape while being around your place, carrying the groceries from your car to the kitchen, sometimes doing the laundry for you, cleaning the plates when you were not home while watching TV. He enjoyed watching documentaries to learn more about the your own world and like sitcoms like F.R.I.E.N.D.S. and Malcolm, often asking you to watch these with him. You still requested him to help you to prepare some food, to which he obliged. He loved doing this and secretly loved being with you.

You ate before the TV, watching an old romantic movie you could not even name. Arthur nearly fell asleep in the process while his arm carefully moved around your shoulders. You smiled as you noticed him slowly drifting into sleep, still strong enough to make a very first move towards you. He had done that before, mostly preferring short embraces or resting his head on your shoulder at times, allowing you to kiss his forehead or his cheek. This was a big move !

"Arthur, go to bed." you smiled, gently passing your hand through his hair you had cut yourself

"Hmmm… yeah…"

Arthur rose from your couch and limped towards your bedroom, getting his jeans off to fall on the bed. His legs were so painful, enough for him to struggle lifting them up ! You calmly approached him, dragging a blanket above him, his eyes remained open.

"Care to join me ?" he smiled

"Well… why not."

You took a few clothes off, slipping under the blanket as Arthur dragged you into a very sudden embrace. You had almost forgotten how your own bed felt like, being used to your sofa. His warm body made you feel safe, very safe. His arms were wrapped around your waist, he had forgotten how great it felt to have someone to embrace. He kissed the top of your head as the two of you drifted asleep, leading you to wake up alone the next day. You glanced around, stretching a little as you heard the faint sound of your coffee machine in the living room, leading you to leave your room to come face to face with Arthur standing before the counter, having prepared you a warm coffee.

"Mornin’ darlin’." he smiled. Made you some coffee.

Arthur looked delightful, wearing a large white top with a pair of green boxers you had thought would be cool on him. He was also wearing these funny winter-themed socks you had offered him on a random occasion ! A pair of red socks with Christmas trees and stars on the. He first thought they were ridiculous, but came to enjoy them, cherishing them like any gift you were willing to offer him. He had even baked a chocolate cake !

"Morning." you smiled, kissing his cheek while he was sipping his coffee, causing him to blush. "Didn’t know you could use the oven !"

"Well… I tried some stuff." Arthur answered with a large smile. "Red a book and cooked."

You smiled even more more at Arthur’s sudden pride. He did really well, the cake tasted great. At first, you had forbid him to use the oven, being persuaded he would cause much more trouble than expected. You did not want to come back from work and find out that your place was one fire because Arthur was not able to understand how your oven worked. These past months were fun and you looked up for what was ahead. Arthur was just a man from another time, lost in a world that was not his… but, at least, he was no longer ill and was doing alright, mostly !

to be continued, maybe, maybe

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #gender neutral #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption au #azurestales #our modern boah #modern arthur morgan #my gifs

283 notes · View notes