#it’s easier to pretend that he wants to be famous and isn’t just doing it to make it his father money | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jungkxook · 4 years ago

Text

—make it right. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: punk!jungkook / band au / exes-to-lovers au / angst / smut

⟶ words: 11,528

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn’t be because it’s been almost a year since you broke up with him. worst part of it all is that you know he’s still in love with you too

⟶ warnings: jungkook has a tongue piercing, oral sex because of said tongue piercing (fem!recieving), more tattooed and long haired jungkook to feed my fantasies, angsty pining clingy sex, also just general soft sex, crying sex lol, riding, creampie, slight praise kink themes, unprotected sex

⟶ disclaimer: here’s my one year blog anniversary present inspired by the first ever fic i posted on here! yes this is technically a sequel to melomaniac but not really. sort of like an alternate universe to the alternate universe but you don’t really have to read one or the other to understand the other. so, i hope you enjoy!

⟶ this is part of the melodrama tour series!

You swear you’re over Jungkook.

In fact, you would even go so far as to say you hate him ━ but you know that’s not true. It’s just that it’s much easier to believe that if you tell yourself you hate him enough times, then maybe you’ll find a way to fix your broken heart, and the pain in his absence won’t hurt so bad.

As it turns out, it hardly works.

Seven months since he had left you to travel the world with his band, basking in promised eternal glory and fame and money, and yet even miles and oceans away from where you stand, he’s all you can think about. There’s a myriad of reasons as to why trying to forget him was an useless endeavour. The hardships of trying to forget a cherished life-long friendship you had grown accustomed to was one of them, and those lingering happy moments you had shared with him as lovers however fleeting they may be was another. But then there was the ever present fact that Jungkook and his band were so quick to rise to fame, their names far exceeding the seemingly cramped and small city you had both reigned from, and suddenly the boy you had known forever, and everything special that makes him, was now being shared to hundreds of millions of adoring fans.

You were certain it was all Jungkook ever wanted, the added attention and the pretty girls fawning over him, because he had always been a casanova in many ways despite always promising you that you were the only one for him even before you had started dating. You had told him it wouldn’t work ━ I trust you as my best friend, you had said in a moment of despair, grasping at straws. I don’t have to worry about you breaking my heart. But I don’t know if I can trust you as my boyfriend ━ far before he and his band had been signed to their record label and paraded around the world, when they were still practicing in rented storage units and friends’ garages and rundown local studios, playing gigs anywhere and everywhere from dingy bars to college campus parties, supporting him every step of the way if only because he was your best friend, and he had been so persistent that it would work, chasing after you even when you tried to push him away. I would treat you right, he had urged so ardently late one drunken night after stumbling back to his apartment. I already practically worship the ground you walk on.

And how could you ━ who had already been so madly in love with him but scared of him breaking your heart, scared of losing him, scared of this happening ━ ever resist him? He made love seem so easy, and maybe that’s because it was when you were with him. But now, he was no longer yours; now, he was the world’s, and you were nothing but a mere hazy fragmented memory in his mind, long forgotten, watching from the side of the stage much like you always had from the very start of it all.

“Hey, isn’t this that band?” Jihyo’s voice bursts through your wandering trail of thoughts.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself, finding yourself not in the arms of an ex-lover or stuck in a bygone time of months past, but in the cosy and amiable café nearest your campus and frequented by a plethora of your fellow peers. You’re fortunate to find that your other group mates have also become sidetracked, trailing far from the assignment you were all supposed to be working on. Dahyun is perched beside you, chin nestled in the palm of her hand and elbow propped on the table as she scrolls aimlessly through her phone; Jihyo and Taeyong were sat across from you, gossiping fervently about some mutual friend of theirs. You hadn’t known the pair long enough to know much about them or the tragic affair of whoever Mina is for accepting her cheating boyfriend back for the second time, and, likewise, they seem oblivious to your own self-wallowing once you realize what’s caught Jihyo’s sudden attention.

You hear his voice first.

It’s easy to discern, even after all this time and even amongst the muffled chatter and clanking of porcelain and cutlery of those seated around you. The sweet, velvety lull of Jungkook singing throughout the café from the overhead speakers, pretty upbeat melodies and synths mixed with wistful words making up the song he had written for you before he left, before the fame and fans, as a way of telling you how he truly felt about you. It feels like a dream, and maybe that’s because it is, bringing you instantly to another time, and another world. You still remember him showing you the unfinished song for the very first time, curled up next to him in his living room, listening to him serenade you to sleep, humming in places where he hadn’t formed the words yet, strumming along with his acoustic. It was yours and his until he showed the world almost a year ago on their very first show at the Seoul Olympic Stadium in front of thousands of people, as a final desperate act of proclaiming his love for you after a disastrous attempt at a first date that he had begged from you. Just one, he pleaded. To prove it to you that I can be a good boyfriend. And if things don’t work out, we can pretend it never happened and just go back to being us. That’s a promise.

At the time, you had treasured the song. It was beautiful in every way, his love transcending his words and enveloping your heart in pure warmth.

Now, you hate it.

It’s the third time you’ve heard the song that day. Despite avoiding it as best as you could, it seems to find a way to make itself known in your daily life like the nagging nuisance it is. Because fate seemed to enjoy its sadistic behaviour of having the song be one of the main reasons Jungkook and his band had skyrocketed to fame in such a short span of time and, suddenly, Jungkook disappearing from your life meant little when his voice remained as a constant reminder of what could have been, what couldn’t have been, and what fell apart at the already fragile seams. And what was a proclamation of love to you turned into nothing but a fabled tale of lovers. You wonder if people who hear it ever think about where they’ve gone, or who they’ve turned into, or if their love was made to last. You wonder, above all else, if people ever think about it at all.

“Beyond the Scene, right?” Taeyong asks. He seems just as animated to be discussing the song as Jungkook’s voice fades into Jimin’s.

“God, I love this song. It’s so dreamy,” Jihyo lets out a longing sigh as she slumps against her seat. “Y’know, I’m seeing them this Friday. It’s their first time being back in, like, five months.”

“Dude, I’ve been trying to get tickets to see them for months now!” Taeyong gaps incredulously. “How’d you score them?”

“A friend of a friend knows the guy who plays keys,” Jihyo says. “The cute mysterious one.”

“Yoongi, right?”

“Yeah━”

As the pair dive into a passionate discussion about the boys and their first full-length album released under their recently-signed-to label from Columbia Records, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Dahyun almost immediately straightens up, eyes flickering from the pair to you and back again. You’re both fortunate she’s there, having known your past with Jungkook, and despise it a little more, wondering what her pitying gaze must mean.

“Hey, Dahyun. Y/N.” Taeyong’s voice grabs your attention now. “What do you think of these guys? Didn’t some of them used to go to this school?”

“Yeah, I had a few classes with their drummer.” Dahyun waves her hand airly, swiftly brushing over the fact that she did far more than have a “few classes” with any of the boys but was also one of their closest friends. “I think they’re great━” She glances sideways at you one more time. “Hey, maybe we should get back to the assignment now━”

“I had a class with their lead guitarist, Jungkook, last year,” Jihyo continues, her excitement getting the best of her as Dahyun’s voice drowns out in the foreground.

“No way!” This dubious exclamation comes from Taeyong.

“I tried talking to him once but he totally blew me off,” Jihyo says. “Which is fine, because he’s still hot. If I had known he was gonna be a famous rockstar, I’d have tried asking him out a second time━”

Suddenly, you feel sick.

It’s odd to hear two strangers discuss Jungkook’s life while you’re seated across from them, as if you’re nothing more than an outsider to whoever Jungkook has become now. But you can’t stand it anymore. You’re certain you look insane to them when you push your seat back abruptly, the metal legs screeching against the floor as you stand.

“Whoa, what’s wrong━?” Taeyong starts to ask but you’re gone before he can finish the question, murmuring a half-hearted excuse about how you forgot you needed to be somewhere.

You’ve rounded on your heel and have fled from the café before anyone can try to stop you, with nothing but Jungkook’s mellifluous voice fading in the distance as he croons aloud for you in a time long since passed.

You don’t care. Besides, you’re sure Dahyun will cover for you.

The worst part of it all? The dreadful realization that sinks into your mind, and into your heart, beckons the question: who’s to say you aren’t a stranger now to Jungkook’s life altogether?

“So, what are you trying to say?”

You remember the moment so clearly despite wanting nothing more than to forget it all, and the pain associated with it. Because even from then you knew you would always be in love with Jungkook, but you couldn’t have him. It’s hard to remember whose fault it is this time that caused the sudden fight, though random little arguments had been a frequent occurrence nearing the end of your one year relationship more often than not. You hate blaming it all on him, because you were certain you were at fault too. Maybe a little bit wary at times, a little selfish, wanting him all to yourself. Even though you knew he has an obligation to the world, it still hurt when he started making promises he couldn’t keep, blowing you off for soundchecks, or spontaneous interviews, or record label meetings. More and more you could feel the both of you drifting apart, maybe without even meaning for it to happen.

It was just that Jungkook was destined for a lifetime of greatness, and you were starting to think that meant without you.

You had stopped him late one night after he had stumbled home from his and the band’s nightly studio sessions as they worked through recording their debut album as a signed band. Lately, it seemed as if that was all that Jungkook cared about, and while you knew the band meant the world to him and you would always support him in his endeavour, you couldn’t help but feel lesser in comparison. That, and you hated seeing the boy overwork himself to the point of near exhaustion every night if only because their label was so adamant about having the album finished before the month ended.

“You want to, what? Break up?” Jungkook asked, this time more incredulously and less dumbfounded as he had initially been. He didn’t believe you just yet, but you couldn’t exactly tell what he was thinking anymore at that point.

“I just figured we could use some time apart,” You had suggested awkwardly. “Just a break.”

He had let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “Y/N, this is insane.”

You flinched. You remember having to look away, refusing to meet his suddenly sorrowful look. “Is it, Jungkook? I mean… Look at us. We’re falling apart. It was bound to happen eventually. We tried to make it work but maybe we’re on different paths now.”

“But I love you,” Jungkook gasped, exasperated. “Where is this coming from?”

“And I don’t want to have to tie you down for the rest of your life,” You continued on stubbornly, “or make you think you owe me your whole life just because you said you fell in love with me when you were thirteen━”

This seemed to catch Jungkook’s attention. He grew rigid in front of you, a look of wary agony contorting his face. “Is that what this is then? You don’t love me anymore?”

You didn’t respond immediately, instead the dread of the night seemed to finally catch up with you and you had grimaced. You had loved him even then, but the thought of voicing it aloud when you were supposed to be breaking up with him didn’t feel right. The tears began to swell in your throat and blur your vision. Jungkook must have noticed, because he always seems to spot the small things about you that even you miss. Almost instantly, the sour look on his face softened and his gaze turned helpless, with those big puppy-dog eyes that you’ve always been too fond of. He closed the distance between you at once, warm hands grabbing at your own.

“You do.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He knew you were still in love with him ━ or maybe he’d just been hopeful. “I know you do. So then why are you breaking up with me?”

He let go of one of your hands to reach up to your face, calloused fingers gentle and soft against your cheek as they brushed away a rogue tear you hadn’t realized had fallen from your lashes. For a moment, you had let yourself get carried away. You leaned into the comforting heat and touch of his palm as he cradled your face.

“Don’t━” You choked out after a moment of silence, hating when your voice splintered into a sob. “Don’t touch me. Please, Jungkook. You’re only going to make this harder.”

His hands sprang away from your face almost at once, as if he had just been burnt by scalding fire. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull you into his arms but he had refrained the urge somehow, miraculously. So, instead, he grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as his arms fell limp at his sides.

“Then don’t do this. Don’t walk away,” Jungkook pleaded desperately. “I don’t understand. If you love me still, why are you making this harder for yourself?”

“Because what if that’s all we have in common anymore?” You asked wretchedly. “We care about each other. We always will. But you’re focused on the band, and this is my last year of school. Maybe we just need time to focus on ourselves.”

Jungkook blinked once. Twice. His stare was suddenly devoid of any emotion as he gawked at you, but you could tell that he was hurting. It was there in the fluttering of nerves in his jaw; there, in the way his lips pulled taut into a thin line; there, in the way even you could see his eyes begin to shimmer with wet tears that he unabashedly displays without trying to wipe away.

“So that’s it?” he asked. “After everything we’ve been through. You’re just gonna end it, like that? Y/N, come on━”

His hands had found purchase on your waist, and you had lingered for a moment too long; then, fumbling, he tried to grab delicately at your face, probing you to look at him. But you couldn’t. The moment you met his wounded gaze, you shook your head furiously. You had slithered out of his grasp, slipping through the seams of his fingers just like that.

“I━” You paused. “This isn’t some spur of the moment decision, Jungkook. How can you not see it? I’ve felt so alone these past few months. It’s like you’re here but not entirely. Your mind is always somewhere else, always thinking about the band and never about us.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he had asked hotly. “The band is my everything.”

“And what am I?” You asked. The question only mildly offended you, a shot right to your heart. Because if the band was his everything, what were you in comparison? “A distraction until you get everything you want? I can’t keep being that.”

“No!” he protested. “You’re not a distraction. You’re━” He stopped himself short, brows furrowing. “You can’t keep pinning this all on me. You just don’t trust me, do you? You never did. Always thinking I’m with some other girl when I’m not with you━”

“That’s not true,” You admonished.

“Isn’t it?” Jungkook retaliated.

“I don’t want to hear it,” You had said at once. Your tone was final, a decisive ending to your argument with him. “My mind’s already been made up, Jungkook. I don’t think we should see each other again until we sort all this out ━ or, until you sort out whatever your priorities are.”

Jungkook’s stare had hardened, a frown deeply etching into his face. He had straightened up then, perplexed and upset with your standoffish demeanour, as if thinking this surely meant nothing to you. But little did he know this would become one of the hardest decisions you would have to make.

“Fine,” he said rigidly. “If that’s how it is, then I’m gone. You’ll never have to see me again.”

You hadn’t known at the time just how terribly you had messed up ━ neither had Jungkook. He had left before you could stop him, or before either of you could change your minds. Because nothing’s worse than a broken heart, blinded by stubborn and defensive rage. Accusatory fingers and blaming him or you wouldn’t heal the wounds that had already formed, and ending things seemed to only make it worse, months of lonely heartache without Jungkook to further prove just that…

The last time you spoke to Jungkook, you told him you never wanted to see him again ━ or, at least, that seems to be how he interpreted it.

Now, you were standing in the midst of his domain, surrounded by everyone in his public sphere of friends and colleagues and acquaintances, and there was certainly no way of escaping him.

You were starting to think you’re losing mind, because you’d truly have to be insane to have worked up the nerve to agree to go with Dahyun to a party being held celebrating the band’s recent tremendous success and headlining their first world tour. Their manager, Jin, had personally reached out to you and Dahyun, calling you as a means of asking you to attend, though you had given him a timid and dismissive response at first. If it hadn’t been for Dahyun purposely and almost quite literally dragging you out under the premise that “even if you don’t want to see Jungkook, you at least owe it to the boys to go,” you don’t think you’d even be here. But while you didn’t know where you stood with Jungkook anymore, that didn’t mean you weren’t still proud of him or the rest of the boys. It just became harder to bask in their success with them when you had gone from knowing every detail of their lives, of Jungkook’s life, to knowing only what you could hear from gossiping fans around you, or plastered in tabloids, or all over any form of social media.

The party is held at some sort of fancy lavish restaurant, the entire back room rented out by the band’s record label and management, and is filled with dozens of people you don’t know. Fortunately, you and Dahyun aren’t left alone for very long, as an elated Jin and Jimin, the appointed lead singer, bustle their way through the crowd to you almost as soon as you arrive, leaving very little time for you to feel so awkward that you consider running away again. Jimin, in all his spritely and extravagant blue haired disposition, wastes no time in engulfing you both in a comforting hug as if months hadn’t passed since you’ve last seen them.

“Glad you guys could make it!” Jin smiles from over Jimin’s shoulder.

“It’s been forever,” Jimin affirms.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dahyun says. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t forget about us, considering you’re big rockstars now.”

“Rockstar is a bit of an overstatement.” An effortlessly charming smirk unfurls on Jimin’s face, which seems to immediately dazzle Dahyun. “Besides, we could never forget you. Hey, come with me to find the guys. I think we could all use some time to catch up━”

He places his hand on the small of Dahyun’s back as he guides her away, leaving you with Jin. A moment of silence passes, in which time you can feel the boy’s eyes lingering on you.

“He knows you’re coming tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jin says carefully, treading over his words lightly. It’s too painfully obvious who he’s talking about, though you’re fortunate he doesn’t bother mentioning Jungkook’s name anyway. “There’s no point in hiding. I think you should talk to him.”

“I━” You trail off uselessly, your voice croaking. Fearing an imminent breakdown, you shake your head. Then, holding your chin a little higher, Jin’s startled to hear you pretend as if he hadn’t said anything. “It really is good to see you guys again. If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a drink.”

And you’re gone once more before he can say anything else. On your lonesome, you find refuge at the bar, though you only order water because you’re certain you won’t be able to stomach anything stronger. You don’t know how long you spend there, blankly staring at a spot on the wall as your mind wanders everywhere and yet nowhere at all until━

“Y/N?”

There it is again. The familiar sound of his voice, only this time it’s much more attainable, closer to your world and not elsewhere so high in the clouds like a hopeful dream. You brace yourself before turning to face him.

This close, Jungkook looks breathtakingly and painfully beautiful.

As always, he’s adorned in all black, the first few buttons of the silky blouse he’s wearing left undone so that it teases the exposed flesh of his collarbones and the rose tattoo that inks his chest, the thorny stems crawling up the side of his neck just below his ear, accompanied by a pair of leather pants. He’s the same as ever. The same imperfect tattoos that decorate his fingers and arms that you’ve always loved, the same ring-clad fingers painted a chipped black, the same hoop accentuating his button nose. His hair is still his natural dark ebony color (something he’s seemed to stick with much more as of late despite dyeing it wild colours throughout his past), only it’s a little longer than you last remembered, and the sides of his head are shaved in the form of an undercut. You’re foolishly surprised to find he still looks the same, but almost a year away from someone can both change nothing and yet everything all at once.

“Jungkook…” You want to say something more, but your words fall short.

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or upset at seeing you there, but you don’t think he’s either, and you have an inkling of a thought that he purposely sought you out amongst the many faces. Instead, he looks hesitant, apprehensive, as if dreading how you’ll respond to see him. As if you’ll yell at him, push him away. You do neither, fortunately.

Just when the dense silence starts to become almost unbearable, Jungkook clears his throat. “I━ Wow… You look great.”

You blink once, a flustered blush warming your face that you hope he doesn’t notice. “Oh. Thank you. You do, too.”

His eyes flicker over your presence as he nods absentmindedly. Then, he’s offering you a pretty smile, soft and sweet in nature. No malice, or ill-intent. “Um━ How have you been?”

You hate this. You hate the awkward pauses, the prolonged periods of silence. A year ago, even despite knowingly pining for one another, your moments alone with Jungkook were never so terrible. He always found a way to say something cheekily flirtatious even when you were just friends, if only because he knew it would make you blush and giggle because, no matter how many times you would roll your eyes or nudge his sides, he also knew you secretly loved it. All the inside jokes, the milestones shared together, the ardent fleeting touches ━ where did it all go? And while you were both noticeably trying to maintain the peace and pleasantry between one another, it didn’t feel the same. It felt forced, fake. Distracted.

“I’ve been good,” You lie. “How about you? Actually, don’t answer that━” You let out a breathless chuckle. “You’ve clearly been doing amazing. I mean, your album, and your world tour. And tomorrow you’ve got a big day with the hometown show. I heard it sold out in the first ten minutes.”

“Something like that,” Jungkook says modestly. “It’s been kind of crazy. Namjoon says it’s good, but I miss━ I just miss a lot of how it used to be. The slow pace. I dunno. The quick burn up is quick to burn out, right?”

“Maybe,” You admit. “But I think you’ve all got it in you. You’ve worked so hard for this moment. Enjoy it while you’re in it. You deserve it, Jungkook.”

His stare softens as it meets yours. “Thanks.”

Another beat of silence passes. He looks as if he’s warring with himself, as if he’s fighting the urge to say something more, gnawing at his lower lip, brows knitting together.

“Yo, Jeon!” A foreign voice from amongst the crowd beckons aloud abruptly for the boy.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder swiftly in search of the source, then waves his hand as if to motion he’ll be there later. Then, he turns back to you. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I won’t keep you,” You say. “I know you’re busy.”

“But━” He stops himself, his jaw clamping shut. Changing his mind, he decides to ask hopefully, “Will you be at the show tomorrow?”

“Of course.” The affirmation seems to relieve him, even though it’s a spontaneous decision made by you on the spot. Before this moment, you hadn’t been so sure you could go.

“Promise?”

You can’t help but shake your head, a chuckle slipping past your lips at the innocent boyish question he asks. “Yes, Jungkook.”

His smile widens a little more, however sheepish it may be. “Then can you promise me one more thing?”

“What?” You quirk a brow, intrigued to say the least.

“Will you drop by the hotel we’re staying at tomorrow morning, so I can take you out for a coffee? Just to catch up. It’s been a while,” he says timidly. Then, feeling a little stupid for being so bold, scrambles to explain himself. “And no pressure if you don’t want to. I just thought━”

You can’t possibly say no. Not when it comes to Jungkook, all your past struggles seemingly vanishing without a trace. “I’d like that a lot, Jungkook.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Then he’s positively beaming, his self-indulgent grin making your own heart flutter in your chest. When he leaves your side that night, you find yourself looking forward to the future perhaps a little too optimistically. But how terrible could grabbing coffee with your ex be, if you had survived the first wretched encounter?

So, in the morning when you wake, there’s not a stutter in your step or a wavering flicker of your confidence as you make your way to the Four Seasons hotel Jungkook had told you to from the night before. In fact, a selfish part of you almost thinks that maybe things will start to look up. That maybe you and Jungkook can finally make amends. That maybe you never had a reason to fear Jungkook breaking your heart if he made such an effort to heal it.

The hotel itself is one of the most luxurious ones in Seoul, a considerable contrast from when the boys were slumming it on friends’ couches and in their run-down van touring the country. The room Jungkook tells you to meet him at is one of the hotel’s grand suites, located on the higher levels of the building. But as soon as you reach the landing and have begun making your way towards the designated door, it flings open and a pretty girl comes stumbling out. She’s giggling at something that has just happened inside, her hair a dishevelled mess which she ruffles up in an attempt to fix it. She’s adorned in a pretty little dress, the skirt of which is hiked a little higher up and one strap falling down her shoulder, as she clings her shoes and bag to her chest. She smiles at you on the way past, though she’s too far gone in her own little daze that you wonder if she even notices you at all.

But you certainly notice her, and, all at once, your reverie of him and what could be comes crashing to the ground once more.

Maybe you should have stayed, should have waited for Jungkook to let him explain, but you were too afraid to hear an answer you weren’t looking for. You try desperately not to imagine Jungkook loving someone else. You try not to think about him holding her the same way he held you, his lips finding purchase on some other girl. But by trying to avoid the thought, it beckons the unwarranted memories of how it felt to be loved all over by him once upon a time. You wonder how many girls he’s hooked up with in your time apart, and the overwhelming sense of regret washes over you.

You don’t bother to wait. You know fleeing is the easiest option rather than facing your fear, but you’re far too timid of rejection again. Instead, even before you can approach Jungkook’s hotel room and knock on the door, you turn on your heels and run.

You’re long gone by the time Jungkook comes to the door, prying it open in search of you on a whim. When he doesn’t see you, he glances up and down the hallway but to no avail. Namjoon comes slinking past inside then in his own disoriented haze, having just woken up from moments ago when the girl he had taken back to their room the night before left. Even then, Jungkook had warned the rhythm guitarist against bringing the girl back, pointing out the fact that they had much to do today ahead of their concert. Namjoon had promised it wouldn’t be long, that she would be gone in the morning, and Jungkook was fortunate enough that the suite had two separate bedrooms on the opposite ends of one another so that Jungkook didn’t have to hear whatever it was the pair were doing in the other.

“Did Mina leave?” Namjoon asks through a yawn, digging the heels of his palms into his tired eyes. When Jungkook nods, a sliver of a reminiscent smug grin tugs at Namjoon’s lips. “You missed out, Jungkook.”

The cheeky quip is met with a roll of Jungkook’s eyes. “I’m sure I’ll survive. You know I’m not like that.”

Like that━ As in midnight hook-ups and cheap thrills alike. He tried it once, far ago when you had first broken up with him, on a drunken spur of a moment as a way of healing the anguish in his heart. It hadn’t worked then; he assumed it would never work.

Namjoon seems to understand this immediately. He gives Jungkook a look that the boy doesn’t notice. “Well… is Y/N here yet?”

“No. But I’m sure she’ll be here,” Jungkook grimaces. He hopes. “Something probably came up.”

Namjoon clasps a reassuring hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, humming aloud, “Good luck, dude.”

But you never arrive, even though Jungkook waits for most of the morning, nervous eyes flickering to the door at every commotion outside, running to check only to see room service delivering breakfast or concierge showing guests to their rooms. He has no choice but to give up on the thought of you coming when Jin knocks on their door, prompting the boys to get a start on their day. Interviews and soundcheck await, but how could he possibly go on with his life without knowing what happened to you?

Which is why you stay on his mind for the rest of the day, distracting him in every aspect, mixing up his words when he’s in the midst of his interview, tripping up on stage as the boys set up and begin to rehearse. As the hours wane down to just an hour before the show, the thought of performing in front of thousands of fans starts to make him nervous and he doesn’t know why. He’s done this countless times before, almost nightly during the tour, so what stops him now? Of course he knows the answer, had grown all too accustomed to the feeling the first few months in which the break up had been so recent. It would always be about you.

But just before the show starts, Jungkook is making his way backstage from the greenroom, where the band had been waiting, to the stage. Fiddling with his in-ear piece, he almost doesn’t notice you and Dahyun weaving your way through the roadies and sound tech, being guided by Jin to the pit on the side of the stage where only family and friends are allowed. You don’t see him, and there’s a split moment where he thinks he should just let you go, until he doesn’t.

As he makes his way to you, the tour manager for the band intervenes part way, shouting out to the boy. “Where are you going? We’re on in five, Jungkook!”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back━” He waves the manager off as politely as he can, wasting no time to chase after you. He calls out your name, though it drowns out in the sound of the music being blasted through the speakers of the arena and the screaming fans. “Y/N, wait up!”

He’s relieved when he sees you stop in your tracks, turning to face him as Dahyun and Jin become lost in the chaos of the backstage. He comes to stand just before you, smiling breathlessly at you, unaware of the way your shoulders tense at the sight of him.

“You didn’t show up this morning,” he says as a way of greeting, his voice a curious prob. “What happened?”

You try desperately not to get lost in his big beautiful eyes, laced with such hope. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest, looking away. “Something came up.”

It’s then that Jungkook senses something is wrong. You’re upset with him, though he can’t tell why. Aside from the obvious rift in your relationship that had initially split you two up, you had been so pleasant to see him the night before. But he doesn’t give up just yet. “Well… you’re here now.”

You meet his gaze with your own hardened one. “For the boys.”

A shot right to his heart almost makes Jungkook gasp for air. He flinches, and then his stare softens, and you wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, out of fear that you might just relapse into his arms.

“What’s wrong?” He closes the distance between the two of you. He wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you, but refrains with much difficulty. There’s dozens of things that could be wrong, and he braces himself for your retaliation. “You didn’t want to come, did you?”

When you don’t respond, but also don’t stray from his side, Jungkook hurries to speak again if only to fill the tense silence.

“Look, last night… Maybe it was just me, but last night seemed like things were okay,” he says. “Was I wrong to feel that way?”

“Jungkook…”

“Please, just let me know,” he begs. “Because you’re all I can think about these days, it’s driving me crazy. And I don’t know what’s going on, but the reason I wanted to see you this morning was because I hate how things ended between us, and I wanted to tell you…” He swallows nervously as he trails off uncertainly. “I wanted to tell you that I’m still in love with you. And I can’t get you out of my head. These months away from you made me realize that I━”

Suddenly, you’re shaking your head and he knows you don’t believe him. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets saying it, if only because they seem to enliven you. Now, you push yourself away from the boy. “I’m not doing this right now. You’re not doing this right now.”

As if to further your point, the band’s tour manager can be heard calling out frantically for the boy. “Two minutes, Jungkook!”

But Jungkook is hardly paying attention now, instead solely focused on you. “Please, Y/N━”

“No, you don’t get to say that to me,” You admonish hotly. You can’t bite the words back, no matter how hard you try. “You don’t love me. You think you love me, but you don’t.”

His jaw clenches, and his brows furrow into a frustrated stare. “I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Stop.” The harsh word makes Jungkook clamp his mouth shut. You shake your head furiously, but you know it’s only to distract yourself so that you don’t let the tears fall. “You’re being selfish, Jungkook. You don’t get to take all of me, love all of me, and leave, only to come back months later and pretend you’re still in love with me. And whatever this━” You gesture vaguely between the two of you, “is, or was, doesn’t exist anymore. We both need to stop pretending otherwise.”

Jungkook winces, eyes tinged with pain. “You don’t mean that.”

You don’t respond. Elsewhere, his tour manager starts to grow impatient, scolding the boy aloud, “Jungkook, we’re gonna be late. Hurry up!”

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” Jungkook calls back, irritated. Maybe he is being selfish. He’s wasting precious time by not leaving, all the hard work that the crew put into tonight’s show, and the fans awaiting his and the band’s arrival. He can still hear the crowd, this time their buzzing voices amalgamating into unanimous chanting muffled by the walls that sounds akin to the band’s name.

“You should go,” You say now. “Don’t wanna disappoint them.”

But he’d throw it all away for you if you told him to. He promised you that even before he had left for tour, before the band had been signed. Had you forgotten? Because he surely hadn’t.

“Y/N…”

“Good luck out there.”

Then, you’re gone before Jungkook can even make a move to stop you ━ but even if he did, what could he do to make you stay? The feat seemed impossible, and you always seem to find a way to slip from his grasp no matter what he does. Only this time he has no choice but to let you go, out of fear of being berated further by his tour manager or angering the boys so much to the point where he gets kicked out of the band.

He makes it on stage in time, the band filing out to take their places one at a time, deafening screams blowing out their in-ear pieces that stand no chance as each member joins the stage. The lights fizzle out until complete darkness cloaks the venue, but Jungkook still looks for you. He finds you in the pit on the side of the stage, Jin and Dahyun standing beside you, and finds it hard to keep his eyes off of you even though you attempt to pretend as if he’s not even there.

After their first adrenaline-filled opening song of the night, Jimin takes to the microphone to greet the crowd who scream back an indiscernible shout as, elsewhere, you notice Jungkook pry himself away from the microphone stand on his side of the stage to wave the rest of the boys over to Hoseok’s drum kit. They murmur amongst themselves briefly, though they go unnoticed by Jimin or the crowd as the lead singer entertains them.

“Seoul! It’s good to be back. We’ve missed you all so much━”

Jimin’s words get cut short when Jungkook, having just parted ways with the rest of his members for their impromptu meeting, beckons the lead singer over, out of range of the microphone. They seem to discuss something just as shortly as Jungkook had talked with the rest of the boys, in which time Jimin nods understandingly, then steps away from the microphone. Then, Jungkook takes to the microphone, the rings on his fingers glistening under the spotlight as he grips the stand.

“I know the night’s only getting started,” Jungkook’s voice wavers as he speaks, “but we’re gonna slow things down for a moment. We hope you don’t mind.”

Intrigued murmurs echo around the crowd, suddenly buzzing with excitement as they watch Jungkook with eager eyes. A few encouraging bellows has Jungkook smiling smally. Jin, on the other hand, looks perplexed.

“What is he doing?” Jin asks no one in particular, a quizzical look on his face. “This isn’t part of their set.”

“I think a lot of you might know this next song,” Jungkook continues, “but I don’t think I’ve ever expressed how much it means to me. This next one, I wrote for a special someone, and it sort of helped us achieve all of this. So, I think it’s time that person knows how much they mean to me.”

Jungkook glances nervously over at the boys standing behind him, each in their own respective spots. Then, sweeping his gaze across the crowd, he finally finds you already staring up at him. His own eyes soften into a look of longing, however hardened by past tribulations and sorrow it may be. As if he’s determined not to lose you again; determined to make it up to you.

“This next one is for Y/N,” he says timidly. He has to turn away from you in the next second, afraid he might just break down before the fans and the boys and you. “I’m sorry I messed up.”

As the boys take their place, with Jimin taking an acoustic and fading back from the limelight, you wonder why. But then you hear it, the familiar beginning chords making up the song you had so wholeheartedly claimed you hated. Only this time they’re gentler, made up of acoustic strums of a guitar, Hoseok’s drums, and Yoongi’s keys, all amalgamating into a pretty song almost unrecognizable.

Then, Jungkook starts singing, and what was once a wistful dreamy song of prospective lovers suddenly turns into a melancholic requiem for you. Some lyrics are changed, present tense turning to the past, and Jungkook sings his way throughout the entirety of the song in contrast to the one that plays all over the radio featuring the other member’s voices. The fans sing along, their voices melding with Jungkook’s into some sort of celestial mellifluous choir, and you’re left no longer wondering if the fans would ever know the meaning behind the song that Jungkook had brought to life. Because now, it wasn’t just Jungkook singing to you; it was the whole world. And yet, paradoxically at the same time, it felt all that much more intimate. As if it were just you and him once again, seated on the couch in his small apartment, listening to the beginnings of what would be their number one selling song.

Above all else, you realize that you don’t seem to hate the song as much you claimed to.

That night, you can’t sleep.

You find yourself leaving the venue earlier than everyone else, even when the boys invite you and Dahyun to join them for celebratory drinks, returning to your home in the hopes of forgetting the night altogether. Instead, you stay up tossing and turning, your mind filled with memories consisting of only Jungkook and his haunting voice singing to you, and for you. But at some point during the night nearing one or two in the morning, just when you give up on the idea of sleep, the sound of incessant knocking at your front door rouses you from your trance.

When you finally answer the door, you’re more than surprised to see that Jungkook stands on the other side of the threshold as if coming to you from a dream. But then you register the fact that he’s a complete mess. Dark circles line his weary eyes, now smudged with that faint hint of charcoal liner he had worn for the concert, hair so messily mused beyond repair, and you notice quickly that he’s crying, fresh tears glazing over his pupils and streaking down his face. It’s startling to see him in such shambles, a complete contrast to how effortlessly charming and confident he usually portrays himself. But though you’ve seen him cry before on various occasions, now is all the more unsettling.

“I━I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing he says, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head. He fumbles over his words, slurring them together in his rush to get them out. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but I needed to see you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, no, I swear━” He pries his eyes open to meet your desolate stare, tears unabashedly falling from his lashes. His voice thins with desperation. “You said we need to stop pretending, but I’m not pretending. I never have been. And if you think ━ if you truly believe ━ that there’s nothing here between us anymore… Tell me. Right here, right now. And I’ll leave you alone forever, you’ll never have to see me again. I just━ I’ve missed you every moment and it kills me.”

You’re silent for a long period, pitying gaze sweeping over him, but he doesn’t care if he looks insane. He just needs you to know how he feels.

“Well, how do you think I felt?” You ask the question carefully, but then the memories come flooding back and the semblance of a scowl forms on your face. “You leave and suddenly everywhere I look I see you. Your song is playing everywhere, you and the guys are everywhere, and I’m reminded every day about how we ended. About how you left me.”

Jungkook blinks. He shakes his head stubbornly, the nerves in the corner of his jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth. “You were the one who said we should take a break.”

“A break!” You snap sternly. “Fuck, Jungkook. I didn’t want you out of my life forever. I wanted you to fight for me.”

“No, don’t put this all on me,” Jungkook pleads helplessly. “I have always fought for you. But the minute things got rough, you bailed. You told me you never wanted to see me again. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“I was scared!” You try to swallow the tears away that start to form as a lump in your throat but to no avail. “I was, and I still am, so fucking scared of losing you. And you━ It felt like you gave me no choice. Like you were over it. I would have wanted to make things work but you left. You just… You left, and suddenly it was like you were never in my life at all. Seven months, and I get no word from you.”

“I fucked up, okay!” He cries out so suddenly, it silences you at once. He bites at his lip, and straightens up half-heartedly, running a hand through his hair. When he meets your stare this time, he’s zealous yet sincere. “I know that I messed up. I know. And it fucking kills me every single day. I don’t know where it went wrong, but it did, and I know it’s all my fault. When you said we should take a break and I agreed, I was only thinking about you. Because I knew I was disappointing you every day, and I was afraid that was all I would ever do, and you don’t deserve that. I thought it would be better this way, if I was just gone from your life for good. But I can’t forget you.”

“How can I trust you?” You ask. When his pained stare gawks at you, you tilt your chin a little higher. “I came by your hotel room yesterday morning, just like you asked, only to see that girl leaving.”

Jungkook’s gawk turns into a dumbfounded expression. He looks weary as he shakes his head, as if struggling to keep up with the way you accuse him now. He tries not to focus on the fact that you actually came to the hotel, then feels inconsolably terrible when he realizes why he never got to see you. “That girl was Namjoon’s fling. We were sharing the suite, and they were in a whole other room. I didn’t even think about her━”

Your stare droops from him, and he knows he’s struggling to keep you on his side.

“Okay, fine. You want trust? I’ll give it to you,” he says. A newfound sense of confidence seems to possess him, though he approaches the topic with extra caution anyway. “After we broke up, I was crushed. I couldn’t move on from you, and the guys thought I should get drunk, find a random girl to bring back to our hotel one night on tour. And I listened, because I wanted to forget you, but it didn’t work. All I could think about was you. Every time she touched me, every time she kissed me, I could only imagine it was you. And when she left that night, I broke down because I felt like such a fucking idiot. I instantly regretted it. Like, even though you and I weren’t together, I still did something to hurt you by sleeping with that girl. And all it did was hurt me too in the process.”

He pushes himself forward, taking a step over the threshold. Even despite him admitting his wrongs to you, you can’t find it in yourself to hate him. Because, at the end of it all, he’s here at your doorstep, pleading for you to forgive him, but he had already won the moment your eyes had landed on him.

“You’re the reason I am who I am today.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, almost in a whisper. “That I get to do what I love for a living. But all of it means nothing without you. You saw me at my worst, and my best. And you were the best I ever had, and I ruined it, and the worst part of it all is that there’s nothing I can do to make up for it. But I promise I can make it better ━ I can make it right again ━ if you just give me a chance.”

There’s a short pause filled with poignant silence in which Jungkook thinks you’ll push him away or scream at him. He’s fortunate when you do neither; instead, he hears you whisper faintly.

“Kiss me, Jungkook.”

And it’s more than enough for him. His heart thrums in delight as he wastes no time in reaching out for you. His hands are warm as they come to grasp at your face, holding you delicately; then he’s leaning in to you, drawing you closer and closer until his lips are pressed against yours. It’s unadulterated, but not without feverish passion, noses smushing together in both your eager hastiness to close the distance between the two of you. It doesn’t last long either, though that’s partly because Jungkook can taste your tears mingling on your lips, and can feel your faint smile form against his mouth. Kissing him feels both foreign yet familiar at the same time. You know the feel, the taste, and the sense of comfort that comes with it, but months apart from one another has left it feeling different.

Jungkook’s thumb wipes away at the tears on your face. “Why are you crying?”

It’s a useless question, he knows, but he needs something to fill the silence. He’s relieved when he hears you snicker. “Because I miss you, you idiot. And I’m sorry I’ve been acting like such an idiot. I’ve messed everything up.”

His own shoulders quiver with contented mirth. “It’ll be okay.” As he leans in once more for another kiss, you can feel him murmur against your mouth, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Then make it right,” You say, “right here and now.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he promises earnestly.

Jungkook understands the underlying yearning in your voice even without having you explain yourself. He knows, if only because he can feel it too. As his hands fall to your waist, fingers digging into your skin, your own arms wrap around his neck and pull him into your apartment. He has you pressed up against the nearest wall within seconds, kissing at your throat, then up to your jawline.

“It’s been so long,” he sighs.

You hum in agreement, though your mind is already spinning, and all you can muster is a weak yet urgent croak of his name. “Jungkook.”

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the roots and he croons with delight. His lips finally meet yours again, only this time he lets his tongue lav at your lower lip. Almost as soon as he does so, you notice something strange. It takes a moment for you to register the small metallic object that grazes your lower lip but when you do, you pull away from the boy.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks in a confused dazed.

“Is that…” You rasp. “Did you get your tongue pierced?”

Suddenly, Jungkook is smirking, one brow shooting up to his hairline in a smug demeanour. He sticks out his tongue for you to see the silver ball poking through and you almost moan at the sight of it as the thought entices you.

“Oh.” Your face warms with a flustered blush. “That’s new.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Always wanted to get it done. Guess I was saving it for the right moment.”

“Right moment, huh?” You scoff as if the implications don’t already have your thighs rubbing together. “Care to explain?”

“I think you’ll find out soon enough.”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles, marvelling at the way Jungkook’s familiar flirtatious bantering can soothe your troubled heart at once. It’s almost as if time hasn’t lapsed between the two of you.

“I’ve missed this,” You sigh. “I’ve missed you, Jungkook.”

You spot him smiling before he’s kissing you again, this time his tongue slipping past your parted lips to meet yours midway. The piercing is strange to adjust to, but you get used to it quickly, humming at the feeling of it against the soft flesh of your tongue. It’s easy to get lost in one another’s lips as you pull and tug at Jungkook, guiding him to your bedroom, nearly tripping and stumbling over one another in the process. He knows the path like the back of his hand, the same way he knows every curve and dimple of your body as his greedy hands explore you. He has you sprawled out beneath him on the bed in a matter of seconds, carelessly shedding each other of your clothes until you’re left naked and he’s without a shirt.

As he’s tugging off the hoodie you’re wearing, he realizes two things abruptly. One: you’re not wearing anything beneath it, your bare body dazzling him at once. And, two: a sudden thought jogs his memory that makes him ponder aloud, “Is this my sweater?”

“Yes,” You admit sheepishly.

He smirks. “Was wondering where it went.”

“You forgot to take it back when…” You don’t finish your sentence. Instead, you tug your fingers at the hair at the nape of his neck, as if scared he’ll leave again. He doesn’t. Instead, he nestles his body between your legs, tonguing patterns on your neck. “I wear it sometimes, especially when I’m missing you. I don’t know… It just━ It still smells like you, even after all this time.”

Jungkook’s heart nearly implodes. He wonders briefly if he’d prefer fucking you without or with the hoodie; but then he’s letting himself time to study your naked body and he deduces he needs to gaze at you in your entirety a little longer.

“Keep talking,” he murmurs. He starts kissing down your body now, starting from your throat to your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts, then your navel. “Tell me more. How badly did you miss me?”

“So badly,” You whimper. Your legs instinctively part to make way for him as he shifts downward, kissing just above your core. A shudder runs down your spine when he kisses the inside of your thigh. “Sometimes I’d put your sweater on and touch myself to the thought of you.”

He grunts against you, teeth softly biting at your flesh. His tongue pokes against your thigh, the metallic piercing a dully cold sensation as he licks upward to your core. He laps at your folds, as if to taste the glistening cum that starts to form.

Your breath audibly hitches in your throat, hips jutting forward to meet his mouth. “I missed your hands, and the way they made me feel. Missed your mouth between my legs. Missed cumming on your tongue, or your fingers.”

Now, you’re starting to understand what he meant by waiting for the right moment to use the piercing to its fullest potential. As he lifts his head higher to tongue at your clit, the piercing makes your head spin. The contrast between his soft tongue and the harsh metal works wonders against you, rubbing you just the right way that has you a moaning mess beneath him within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck━” You cry out, hands twisting in his hair. “My hands never feel the same. You always made me feel so good, Jungkook.”

He hums something in response, the sound reverberating up your spine. He busies himself by replacing his tongue with his finger, rubbing small, controlled circles against your clit as he lowers his mouth to your folds. He teases the piercing against the sensitive flesh before lapping at your insides, burrowing further into you.

“Ooh, Jungkook━”

The noise that eclipses your throat is a piqued sob of delight. The piercing that scratches against your walls has your insides throbbing, body twisting and turning beneath him. You grab at your breasts, fingers pinching at the perked buds as you imagine Jungkook’s hands in replace of yours.

His mouth wraps just right around you and he sucks hard, earning a beautiful moan from you. It doesn’t take long for you to draw closer to your high, sputtering and whimpering at every action he does. Soon he’s burrowing his face even closer against your core, nose nudging against your clit in a way that makes you writhe and squirm. Before he can get carried away (and he certainly could), Jungkook decides to come to a stop which seems to thoroughly surprise and upset you. When you feel his missing warmth between your legs and the sticky wet mess accentuated further by the cool air that hits you, you pout like a child.

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

“Sorry, baby. Need to feel you.” He pulls away from you and crawls over your body once more. He kisses your lips, sloppy and heated, and lets you taste your own succulence on your tongue. “God, I need to feel you so bad.”

You’re just as much startled as you were seconds ago to hear the slight whine in his voice, a sound hot enough to almost push you over the edge.

“I’ve missed you too, just so you know,” he moans, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers continue to scratch delicately at his scalp and he simpers delightfully against you. He ruts his hips eagerly against yours, the bulge in his pants rough against your core. “So fucking much.”

“How much?” Now it’s your turn to ask, your curiosity getting the best of you once you find your voice.

“Every day,” he sighs as he continues to grind his hips into yours. “Get so hard at the thought of you. Your pretty mouth moaning my name. Your hands in my hair, just like this━” You pull a little tighter at the roots of his locks, and he has to stifle his contented moan. “And your body━ Fuck, your body. You take my dick so well, baby.”

“Jungkook,” You mewl impatiently. “Wanna feel you in me.”

“Fuck, okay. Okay━”

He hastens to rid himself of his pants and you help, arms momentarily tangling with one another in your rush. Then he’s kneeling before you, one hand planted firmly on your hip, rings digging roughly against your skin, as his other hand wraps a fist around his hard length, slowly pumping himself. He guides the tip of his leaking cock to your core and pushes himself forward carefully. He easily slips past your folds, coaxed by your slick walls, that he has to pause to give you both time to adjust to the feeling. It’s just as he remembered, though somehow better, and he isn’t so sure how long he’ll last. You don’t know either, marvelling in the way he stretches you open.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts.

He watches as your jaw drops open in a silent gap, your eyes fixed only on his. You grab at his hips, fingers scratching delicately over the laurel tattoos inked there, prompting him to move. He does so in one languid movement, burying deeper and deeper into you until you feel so full and he feels so warm. He fucks into you a little sluggish at first, taking his time and enjoying the way your clenching walls feel around his throbbing cock. It’s a pace so maddening that it soon has the both of you panting, heavy moans filling the space around you. Your own fingers dig into his shoulders, his back, his hips ━ anything to keep a hold on reality as you slowly lose yourself to the pleasure. He reaches for one of your hands, eager to feel you in more ways than one, and laces his digits with yours, pressing your clasped palms above your head. You squeeze tightly, his name falling from your lips in a cry.

“Doing so good,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. “Feel so nice, baby.”

Jungkook grasps at your hips and flips the two of you over. He lands on his back on the soft mattress and you fumble to not break the pace. Firmly planting your hands on his chest, you grind against him, sweat coating your forehead. He watches you with a dark fascination, brows screwed together and jaw clenched as your own cum starts leaking down his length. Not wanting to waste another moment without being beside you, he sits up and shifts you in his lap. Then he pulls you close to him, chest pulled flush against chest to the point where he can feel the rapid beat of your heart against his. You whimper aloud, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as he guides your hips back and forth on him. There’s little to no space between your gyrating bodies, sweaty skin sticking to one another.

At some point, Jungkook notices you’re crying again, steady tears tangling in your lashes and wetting your face. Despite the way you’re driving him to near euphoria, he brushes your hair out of your face and manages to ask, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m sorry━ fuck,” You gasp. He can tell you’re genuinely sympathetic for whatever’s making you cry but it’s hard for you to convey it properly when you’re still so consumed by him. “I’m so sorry━ I’m okay. I just━ You feel so good, Jungkook.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, rubbing tender circles against your waist that contrasts with the fierce burn between your legs. “You’re okay, baby. Doing so well for me, aren’t you? Cum for me, yeah?”

You won’t tell him why you’re crying ━ not yet, at least. But Jungkook thinks he knows why; he can feel it too. The bitter sense of longing and mingling regret for all the time lost. The overwhelming feeling of love of finally being reunited. You continue to roll your hips against his, and he, breathless, rubs his nose faintly against yours, resting his forehead against yours.

It doesn’t take much longer after that for you to come tumbling to you high. He strokes your hair so lovingly as you ride him recklessly, leisure rolls of your hips driving you to your high. When you cum, the feeling completely washes over you and electricity crackles in your veins, warming your entire body. He holds you close to his chest the entire time as you writhe with pleasure, your walls clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, I’m gonna━” His voice splinters off as you busy yourself by sucking a bruise onto the underside of his jaw.

He reaches his high moments later just as you’re beginning to wince at the feeling of oversensitivity. He grunts and groans, spilling his hot seed into you, and then, with his hips slammed against yours, grinds leisurely to ride out your highs.

Then, the room falls silent.

Neither of you move from your warm embrace, with you still perched on his lap, his cock softening inside you as his cum runs down his length and onto your thighs. Your face is hidden in the crook of his neck, and he waits until you’ve both calmed down from your orgasms. You’re running your fingers through his sweaty hair, but he knows you’re still sad. He kisses you all over in the meantime, a few ticklish kisses that make you smile sleepily and a few loving ones that have your heart swelling. Then, he gingerly shifts your head to look at him.

“Why were you crying?” he asks silently.

It takes you a moment to respond. You cling to him tightly when you do and all he can do is cradle you closer to him. “I don’t want this to be some kind of drunken one night stand thing. Like we both needed one last fuck to get over each other, or something."

“You mean more to me than a one night stand,” Jungkook says and it makes you smile smally, a little timidly.

“That’s good,” You say, “because I’m not over you or us. I want us to work out. I love you too much to lose you again, and I’m scared this might be the last time I’ll ever see you.”

“I’m not letting that happen,” Jungkook shakes his head furiously. “I’d be an absolute idiot to let that happen. You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere this time. You’re my priority, Y/N. You always have been. Not the band and definitely not the record label.”

“I’m sure the boys will love to hear that,” You snort to yourself.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure they’ll understand,” Jungkook grins. But you’re only joking, and you know he sort of is too. That’s not to say the band isn’t still important to him, but you take precedent over it. “Without you, I wouldn’t even have the chance to be where I am now.”

You nuzzle your nose against his own, and he steals one sweet kiss from you.

“Do you really mean all that?”

“With my whole heart.”

And, when he says it, you know he means it. There’s no reason not to trust him.

You’ll both move eventually from one another’s arms, soft touches from Jungkook peeling you off of him and wrapping you in your covers before falling asleep beside you, and waking up in the morning with you in his arms. But, for now, it’s just you and him, a little broken still yet all the more in love.

While you both know healing a broken heart will take time, you’re both prepared for it because you’re both worth it to one another ━ and that’s all either of you really need in the end to make it right.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

6K notes · View notes

bobathirstaccount · 2 years ago

Text

The Purveyor

Boba x fem!reader, some angst but happy ending, smut, throne stuff happens

***

Boba,

I am writing this because —

I don’t know how to say this, but —

You are so important —

I love you.

You stared at your lame attempt at a love note. Maybe in person would be easier, if this was any indication. How could you not find the words to express something so important? You were tired of living pretending like nothing was going on.

Every week he would come into your store for supplies. He was a regular to the point you had his order ready before he even arrived. Yet he would spend time there, lingering, talking to you. He knew the gossip of your inner circle like he was one of them. Why you were so open, you had no idea.

You didn’t know when you had started to have feelings for the strange scarred man who came from the desert. But now that the spark had been lit, you couldn’t control the flame. It licked up and out of your heart, slowly consuming you. You felt like you were going to internally combust.

You opened your shop early. Sometimes he came early in the day, and you were expecting him today. It was the last day of the month, and he always came in the last few days of the month. You wondered about his schedule.

He didn’t show. The next day you again opened early, figuring something had delayed him. But still his familiar silhouette did not fill your doorway. You sighed and scraped some dirt off your counter. Other customers flitted in and out, and you assisted them. But always in the back of your mind was — Where is your Boba?

Weeks passed. You were crazy with worry. Had something happened in the desert? Was he okay? These were all questions you had no right to the answer. But still you wondered just the same, your heart starting to hurt in a different way. Had he moved on? It would be strange to say goodbye to your victuals supplier. But yet. Your heart held on.

****

Months had passed. You still thought of Boba, but you no longer expected him. He was gone. You gulped down a sob as you thought about this behind your counter. What were you supposed to do with these feelings now?

The door chirped and a slim, dangerous looking woman entered. She did not look around, but instead made eye contact with you and approached. You were apprehensive. “Are you the shop owner?” She questioned.

You stared at her. Who was asking? “Who are you?” You asked instead.

“Fennec Shand.”

You blinked; you had heard of a Fennec Shand, but she was a famous merc. You noticed the rifle slung over her shoulder. That was not unusual, but it still made you uneasy.

“The Fennec Shand?”

“Yes.”

 “What are you doing here?” You were incredulous.

“I serve the new master of Jabba’s Palace.”

“Oh.” You didn’t know why that would bring her here.

“I’ve been sent to find you to bring to an audience with him.”

Your mouth dropped open. Sure you were a supplier of goods for the entire area, but you weren’t so big you could handle supplying Jabba’s old palace. “My supply chain isn’t big enough to support the palace. I can give you a few names.”

“It’s not about supplies.”

You stared at her in confusion. “What else can I offer?”  ”I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you. Will you come with me?”

You considered. Today was slow. You could close up several hours early. But did you want to? Your adventurous streak answered for you, “Let me close up. It’ll be a few minutes.” She nodded and leaned against the counter to wait.

***

“Ok, ready.” You had grabbed a small blaster when you went to fetch your jacket. It wasn’t really good for anything but a close range shot, but it made you feel better to have it.

“No weapons,” Shand eyed you.

You thought about protesting, but instead set the blaster on the counter. “Let’s go.”

You held on for dear life as Fennec piloted a speeder to the palace. You never put yours into fourth gear when you drove, so this speed was terrifying for you. You squeezed her tightly, not caring if she judged you for being scared.

When you arrived she took you through a secret entrance. The door seemed to melt into existence when she waved her hand over a hidden sensor. She stepped inside, and you followed, more than a bit nervous.

Once inside, you looked around. You were in a corridor. Fennec was already walking away. You jogged to catch up. “What now?”

“I’m taking you to see Fett.”

 “The new master?”  ”Yes.”

You thought about what you had to offer and came up blank again. Asking questions was pointless, plus the moment of truth was almost upon you anyway. Suddenly Shand stopped at the top of a flight of stairs. You almost fell down them being in such deep thought. She grabbed the fabric of your jacket to steady you. You inhaled, startled.

“He’s waiting.” She indicated down the stairs.

You looked down them. They seemed to stretch forever. You took your first step down, then another. Finally building up a bit of courage, you upped the pace and walked down into the room. You immediately noticed the large throne in the center of it. And on the throne was a Mandalorian. You had heard of his people, but never seen one. You looked at him curiously as you approached. You forgot to be afraid.

Suddenly you remembered to be scared, and your pace faltered. You stopped short several feet, unsure. His helmet had been following you as you walked across the room. Now it stopped. You swallowed nervously, feeling like you were being inspected. Then a voice said, “Thank you for coming.”

You were surprised at this, so you only nodded and stared back.

“I wanted to know,” he lifted his hands to his helmet, and started to remove it. You watched, shocked. “If you would stay here with me,” the voice continued, becoming human at the end.

You blinked rapidly. Your brain recognized the voice and the face, but it was impossible for your consciousness to accept. You stared, mouth open. Finally you managed, “Boba?”

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, and he stepped off his throne. “Yes. It’s complicated.”

You warily took him in in this new setting. “What happened?”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Start with you stopping coming to see me.”

He expounded, telling you how he met another Mandalorian, made a deal to get his armor back, and how he then fought beside this Mandalorian along with Fennec until he was able to rescue his son. Then he’d stopped off here to take over. It was a confusing story.  ”Wait, so you found the kid?”  ”Yes, but then he lost him. But it was a happy ending. I guess.”

You stared. “What?”

“Let’s just say, I got my armor back. And now I am the master of this palace.” He spread his arms wide to indicate.

You still stared. “Who are you?”

“Boba Fett.” Your eyes lit up in recognition. Just as with Shand, you had heard of the famous bounty hunter. “But you’re dead?”

“Am I?”

 You took a step towards him. Then another. Finally you were so close you could touch him. He reached out to adjust your hair. You blinked, surprised at the tenderness. Memories of conversations you had had with Boba (Fett) flitted through your mind. You couldn’t tell up from down. You started to cry, a little. A leather clad hand wiped the tears away.

You looked down. “I waited for you to come back.”

“I know.”

You looked up at him, expectantly.

“I was waiting to come to you. When it was... appropriate.”

Appropriate? You had spent weeks going crazy! You scoffed, “I spent weeks wondering! I thought you were dead!”

He quirked an eyebrow mischievously. “Now I am dead twice?”

You were annoyed, “What do you want anyway?”

He looked at you, pausing. “You.”

You dared to make eye contact. He was watching you intently. “Me?” You squeaked. You started to cry in earnest. He tentatively took you into his arms. “Did you really think I came to your store for the gossip? Or supplies? There were closer suppliers.”

You sniffled and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I thought it was because I had the best prices.”

He laughed. It was low, gravely, “You did give me good deals... but you were what I wanted when I walked into your establishment. I had seen you already.”

You got hot. He wrapped an arm around you. Suddenly he scooped you into a kiss. It was gentle, chaste. But he soon deepened it. You were overwhelmed. You were getting exactly what you wanted, just not how you expected it. You held on to him and kissed back feverishly. When the two of you came up for air, you made eye contact.

“Will you stay here with me?”

You thought about your life, your store, your friends. The palace. Shand. You came to a realization.

“I told you I was waiting for you this whole time.” You looked up at him, and carefully ran a hand over his scarred cheek. He allowed it, looking at you softly.  “So you are home?”

“Yes, I’m home.”

He settled his arms around your waist, and kissed you again. You felt heat pooling in your nether regions. You cupped his face in both hands and kissed him back. When you finally broke apart you were both breathing hard. You started to push him backward. He furrowed his brow in confusion, but let you push him up the stair and down into his throne. You took off your coat and pulled your dress over your head. You straddled him. He hmmmd in pleasure and grabbed your hips possessively. You ran your hands over his cuirass, down to his stomach. He shifted, groaning.

You ground into him and licked his throat up to his chin. He bit your lip softly. You looked at him and smiled, then slid down his body until you were on your knees in front of him. You placed yourself between his already spread legs and inched up to his groin, feeling his erection. You freed him from his pants and zealously took him in your mouth as far as you could. He moaned and wrapped one of his hands around your neck. You worked his shaft with your hand and licked the tip before gagging yourself on him. He hummed and his hand tightened. You decided you liked doing that and so did it again, until he was thrusting up into you. You let him take over, holding your head in place. He stopped suddenly and pulled out. You sniffled back your tears and looked up, confused. “I want to feel your pussy,” he panted.

Your pussy jumped at the words. You were already wet from your activities. He pulled you up by your arm pits and swapped places with you so you were on all fours on the throne and he was standing behind you. He slid your panties down to your kneels and entered you without warning. The stretch and slight burn was delicious. You gave a breathy moan and your eyes widened. He stopped when he bottomed out. “You feel so good,” he rubbed your hips, then squeezed them again. You moaned a response as he started to move in you. He worked his way up to a punishing pace, and had you arching your back and calling his name. He reached around and found your clit. You came when you felt the soft leather rubbing circles over it. You let out some unladylike noises and he hnnd in response, becoming erratic in his strokes. You managed to moan out, “Baby I want you to cum in me.” He didn’t argue, but he did slightly pick up the pace, almost smashing your face into the back of the throne. You grinned and pushed back into him, your pussy still sending shockwaves throughout your body. He stiffened behind you and you could feel him cumming in you. He paused for a moment and then pulled out, pulling you up and into his lap as he turned and sat down. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he held you in a tight embrace.

“I wasn’t really expecting to get lucky this fast,” Boba said, tone neutral.

You laughed, “How come?”  ”.... I thought you’d be angry for longer.”

You smiled, “Happy to surprise you.”

He rested his chin on the top of your head. After a moment he said, “You should probably get dressed; this room is open.” You looked at your dress; it was so far. “In a minute,” you snuggled into him. His cold armor pressed against your hot skin as he held you.

Finally you begrudgingly got up and dressed. You slid your jacket back on and sat back down in his lap. You kicked your feet up so they were on the seat of the throne and snuggled into Boba as he wrapped his arms around you. You put your head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly.

 Fennec walked in. She took one look and turned on her heel and disappeared. You laughed. He squeezed you. “She’ll not let me live that down.” You smiled. “We’ll have to give her something to really tease you about sometime.”

“What do you have in mind?”  You grinned and looked up at him.

#boba smut #boba fett smut #boba x you #boba fett x you #boba x reader #boba fett x reader #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x female reader #boba fett x f!reader #boba fett fanfiction #boba fett fic

34 notes · View notes

larathia · 2 years ago

Text

So...why Akutagawa at all?

I have to admit I find the number of fans who think Dazai’s treatment of Akutagawa was Absolutely Terrible to be...well, interesting. I’ve already covered why Akutagawa’s attitude isn’t actually Dazai’s fault. But I do think it’s a legitimate question to ask “well, if Akutagawa is fundamentally this feral untameable being, why choose him as a subordinate in the first place”, especially since in BEAST, Dazai doesn’t choose him.

And I think it boils down to this: Dazai was fifteen years old.

Like. Y’all really aren’t getting that Dazai may be incredibly intelligent and calculating and so on, but he’s also, during his Mafia years, a teenager who has literally known no other life but the Mafia. That Mori is teaching him, or at least attempting to do so, in pretty much every episode/story we currently know about Dazai’s mafia years. (Hell, Dazai even once calls Mori out on it, in DC15 - very ‘and exactly why are you attempting to make this a teachable moment’.)

There are, in fact, several points where you can draw a clear, straight line between “some shit Mori told him” and “some shit Dazai later does”. He wasn’t always receptive, but honestly a lot of who Dazai was during the Mafia years, he was because that’s what Mori was teaching him to do and be.

He’s also SO much easier to read. Dazai at 15 is a lot more visibly volatile - and a lot less subtle - than Dazai at 22 (which is about where he is in current time). Dazai at 15 mainly gets away with shit because nobody expects a 15 year old to be that quick on the uptake, that able to figure out complex problems. He’s not, yet, the scheming manipulator he later becomes. Like, I really don’t want to burst the bubble of y’all younger fans, but a very large part of Dazai’s teenage reputation for inscrutability very likely just boils down to him being so suicidally depressed that he hasn’t actually GOT any emotional investment in proceedings, not that he’s hiding said investment. By the time he’s 18 (Dark Era time) pretty much the only light in his life is being able to hang for a few hours at a bar with Oda and Ango and pretend he’s not an executive.

Choosing Akutagawa as his personal subordinate is something Dazai does at 15. It’s something he does before he’s learned a lot of the tricks he’s later famous for. It’s something he does before he’s tested his own potential. When Dazai chooses Akutagawa, he doesn’t even yet know if he’s got the chops to handle the violent world he knows is the Mafia.

And on paper, Akutagawa is absolutely perfect. Dazai is well aware that the Mafia’s full of ability users. That usually, having a gun isn’t going to do squat against an ability user opponent. And that his own power isn’t going to help him against, say, an ability user with superhuman aiming skills.

Akutagawa’s skill is offensively incredible, with high potential for defense as well - something you’ll note, in Dark Era, that Dazai repeatedly tried and failed to get Akutagawa to embrace. In terms of ability, Akutagawa is versatile and capable and strong.

And physically, without his ability, he’s so weak that Dazai would have no trouble beating him in a ‘no ability’ fight. I have to think that’s important - possibly even critical. Dazai at fifteen hadn’t learned much in the way of self defense. (I think we pretty much just see him acting defensively - dodging.) He knew any subordinate would GET combat training. Lots of. But Akutagawa is utterly reliant upon his ability for strength, especially when he’s younger. Take that ability away, and he’s pretty easy to beat.

(Yes, I’m aware he’s also the first one to defeat his own ability in Dead Apple - but even he says that that’s because he’s spent so many years utterly relying on it to defeat his foes, and is therefore completely aware of what it can and can’t do. Something he’s never worked out with Dazai.)

Dazai at fifteen didn’t know what he could do. Or couldn’t do, either. He saw Akutagawa’s power, and potential, and figured he could control Akutagawa, and train him. He was...partly right. Control, yes. Train, no. And I think by Dark Era time, three years later, Dazai had gotten used to the fact that what he’d found wasn’t a trainable puppy, but a completely feral attack dog.

Dazai in BEAST is never really a ‘fifteen year old’. Dazai in BEAST is entering that ‘age fifteen’ scenario with the mental awareness and experience of however old Dazai is when they find the book. (So, at least 22, possibly older.) What you’re seeing him do in BEAST is weigh, “If I knew then what I know now, could I train him?” and answering, “No. Seeing him as he was when I found him, with my adult awareness, I concede that I can’t actually train this kid to be other than he is - I’ll go get Atsushi instead, who I know from that future-experience I can train.”

Which was, unfortunately for Atsushi, completely true.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd analysis

24 notes · View notes

astranva · 4 years ago

Text

TikTok Compilation (pt.2)

Word Count: 1.8k

Category: Fluff

Warning: Some language, very, very slight implied smut; like, it’s a line.

Summary: Yet another compilation of Y/N and Harry content on TikTok as a couple.

// masterlist //

a/n i’ve been receiving loads of tiktok requests so i combined some here! y’all have been asking for this for so long, sorry it took me long to post! let me know what you think. stay safe, friends!

Surely, you had hoped life would have taken a turn a long time ago with the pandemic.

Going outside without masks and crippling fear seemed like a dream, despite it all having been a reality for most of our lives. And while it was cliché, you truly don’t know what you have until it’s gone, like the boring routine you had complained about but now wished to get back.

And in your case, you also didn’t know that one app could have the ability to make things slightly easier during these times – TikTok.

Call it as you may, but quarantine TikTok content was a blessing and while you could swear by that, so could the fans and everyone else on the app since the moment you (and Harry) joined.

Having had tried so many pranks, challenges, and dances, you showed no signs of coming to an end of finding humor and pleasure from the app that Gen Z dominated with the wildest spirits.

With wild spirits, came wild content and for a generation that is openly expressive, there was also wholesome content; all of which Harry’s fans had tagged you to do and try with him.

‘Make your partner impersonate you’

For that one, Harry seemed to be the most excited to do, face beaming with a thousand spiraling ideas of things he could do and say.

The moment the video began, Harry was seen under your white covers, your pink velvet headband that everyone considered iconic rested on his head to show that he was acting like you, pretending to be sleepy as he spoke in a softer voice than his, “Don’t want to get up. More cuddles, please, baby.”

Then video then cut to Harry in the kitchen, you following behind him.

“I wonder where H is, need to pinch his bum.” He said in the same pitch he used for the previous shot.

The video then cut to Harry sitting on the couch beside you, holding his phone, “Baby, look at that!” He showed you his phone, showing you a video on TikTok, “Can we do it?”

‘Wipe your lips after your bf kisses you’

For this, you were picking Harry up from the studio.

Waiting in the parking lot, you had your phone placed behind the box of tissues.

To stay safe, you began recording a normal video for you to edit later as you waited for Harry to show.

When he did, Harry looked right and left as he searched for your car before his eyes fell on you and despite the mask on his face hiding half of it, you could tell that he smiled.

Getting inside the car, Harry took off his mask with a sigh, “First time to actually breathe since morning.” He said before leaning closer to you, pressing his lips against yours.

Doing your part, you looked ahead as you wiped your lips with the back of your hand, noticing Harry’s body stiff as he looked at you.

“Did you just-” He paused, “Did you wipe your lips?”

You hummed in confusion, acting as if you hadn’t heard him as you looked at him.

“Did you-Come here,” he frowned before pulling you close by your hoodie’s drawstrings, pressing his lips against yours in a kiss again.

Again, you wiped your lips.

“Why are you doing that?” He asked, not only confusion being evident in his tone, but hurt, too, “Why are you wiping my ki-Babe, I’m clean.”

“What?” You asked, looking at him as you smiled amusingly, trying to contain your laughter.

“Why are you wiping my kiss?” Harry almost whined, frowning.

“I’m sorry, it’s for TikTok,” you giggled, breaking into laughter when he groaned with a roll of his eyes before he grabbed your jaw, kissing your lips more aggressively.

“Never again.”

‘Let go of your partner’s hand and see what they do’

If there was one thing Harry liked to brag about, it was knowing how to multitask; drive with one hand, hold yours with the other.

It was a natural occurrence for the both of you to hold hands when he drove, no matter what.

Deciding to try that one trend, you took advantage of Harry being focused on the road to film your intertwined hands on your thigh for two seconds before taking your hand out of his.

Instantly, Harry glanced at you, seemingly unaware to you tilting your phone in the other hand to film his face, “Why’d you leave my hand?” He only mumbled before opening his palm towards you once again, smiling when he heard you softly giggle as you put your hand back in his, cooing when he raised it his lips, pressing a soft and gentle kiss on your knuckles, “This stays right here.”

‘Film yourself acting like your partner’

Since the TikTok of Harry acting you like received so many reactions, among them were fans asking you to act like Harry as well, and Harry was down to watch that happen.

Harry recorded you, first shot of video being a little shaky as he couldn’t contain his giggles while watching you in his flared pants, an oversized shirt, his cross pendant on your neck between the valley of your chest, rings on your fingers that showed chipped black polish on your nails.

Your hair was gathered up in a scrunchie, one leg over the other as you sat on a chair, “I’m Harry Styles,” you began, “And like, I never explain my music, I let people interpret it the way they want because music,” you sucked a breath, “Is art. It’s a form of expression that isn’t limited, it’s, like, very open. Like the ocean.” You said slowly, mimicking Harry’s accent and smiling at the end when Harry burst out laughing.

For the next shot, you were in Harry’s white bathrobe, coming out of the bathroom before leaning on the doorframe and looking at Harry as he filmed you, “You sure you’re going to let me shower alone, love?”

Another shot was of you in Harry’s joggers and TPWK black hoodie, sprawled on your couch with the hood on, looking at Harry in disbelief as you still mimicked his accent and deep voice, “Excuse me? Why are you standing there and not cuddling me?”

In a grey tank top of his that you dramatically spilt water on to make it look like sweat and sweat shorts, you had Harry’s boxing gloves on your hands as you bumped your fists together, approaching Harry as he recorded, “God, I’m so sweaty, I have to go hug my girlfriend.”

For the final shot, you had Harry’s guitar in your arms, adjusting the strap as you stood, “I’m going to write a song that is so sexual and record it but I’m not going to release it because I’m a biiiiiitch.” You sang, dramatically strumming the guitar.

‘Pretend to take a mirror selfie with your partner then whisper something dirty in their ear’

You enjoyed the sun; the way it sneaked inside yours and Harry’s room from the sides of your curtains, lit up the room so warmly.

You enjoyed how the natural lighting looked for pictures.

You also enjoyed teasing the shit out of your boyfriend.

“Come here,” you made one grabby hand at Harry who entered the room, scratching his chin, “Let’s take a picture.”

Already used to random pictures being taken together, Harry reached you, standing in front of your vanity mirror as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss against your temple.

Oblivious to it being a video, Harry leaned his chin on your shoulder, giving his famous smug look to the mirror as you held up your phone.

Turning your head, you made sure your voice was low so that your phone wouldn’t pick what you said;

“Want you to pound me.”

And instantly, Harry’s smug look faltered; his eyes widening, face brightening as he looked at you as you giggled before releasing a squeal once you felt him carry you and move you from where you stood, and to the bed as you laughed.

‘Tell your partner your ex wants to return a hoodie of yours’

Propping your phone up, you made sure it showed Harry as he cooked while you sat on the kitchen stool.

You folded your arms on the table, clearing your throat as you eyed Harry while he was chopping carrots.

“Hey, H,” Harry hummed, stealing a glance at you before looking back at his chore, “My ex called earlier,”

At this, Harry’s eyebrows furrowed before he looked up at you, putting down the knife and leaning his hands on the counter, his arms seeming to look bigger as he tensed, “What did he say?”

Trying not to laugh, you looked down, beginning to play with your fingers before giving him a shrug, “Just that he still has a hoodie of mine at his place,”

“Yeah?”

“And asked if I need it back.”

“What did you say?”

You gave him another shrug, “Said I’ll let him know.”

“Well, do you need it?” He asked, “Like really need it?”

“Yeah, it was my high school’s.”

“But baby, you have a lot of hoodies,” one hand of his reached to his lips, fingers grazing his bottom lip for a moment, “Can get it for you.”

“That’d be so awkward, H,” you sighed.

“Why? I’m your boyfriend.” Harry reasoned, “Maybe I can just come with you,” he said again before his face lit up, “I can have it customized instead. Just tell me how it looked like and-”

“Baby, no,” you chuckled, “It won’t be the same.”

“Come on, love,” he frowned, “He calls you 3 years later to tell you he still has your hoodie. You don’t think that’s suspicious? He knows you’re with m-Everyone knows we’re together.”

“Maybe he forgot,” you shrugged, “Actually, let me call and as-”

“Oh, fuck no!” Harry instantly rushed to you.

‘Aggressively tell your partner you love them’

Chilling on the couch, Harry was watching the TV, unaware of your phone that had been resting on the shelf to record you beforehand.

You stomped where Harry was, whose head snapped to you, his mouth chewing his banana bite slower as he eyed you carefully, taking in your angry state.

You threw your notebook on the couch beside him, “I love you!” You said aggressively, a frown on your face as you pointed at him, “I fucking love you!”

Harry took a moment, his face shifting to one of amusement before he raised his hands up – one holding his banana – before pointing at you, “I fucking love you, too!” He screamed.

“No, no,” you shook your head, still aggressively speaking, “I love you more!”

“I’m so fucking in love with you!” Harry said as aggressively, standing in an instant, towering over you as he pressed himself against you before wrapping one arm around you, “Why are we shouting, you weirdo?”

‘Stick your hand out and see what your partner does’

Harry was sat beside you on his laptop, music blasting from it as he emailed himself some tasks.

Recording him with one hand, you reached your arm out, opening your palm at him.

Harry looked down at your hand, a smile making its way to his face before he looked at you before placing his chin on your hand, closing his eyes as he gave you a dopey smile as you squished his cheeks while giggling, “Hiii.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles tiktok

1K notes · View notes

shades-of-stony · 3 years ago

Text

ABO Stony AUs!

Celestial Navigation by sabrecmc

Summary: 18 year old Omega!Tony finds himself Bonded to Captain Steve Rogers. He isn't happy about it until he is.

Note: Does it need any explanation? This fic is an all time classic and favorite in the Stony fandom!

Object: Matrimony by BladeoftheNebula

Summary: Omega Tony Stark craves adventure and an escape from the life his parents have planned for him in New York. He places a listing in a marriage catalogue to seek a match with an alpha out West, and Sheriff Steve Rogers answers his advertisement. But finding a nice alpha doesn't mean it's all smooth sailing from there..

- A Mail Order Bride AU -

Note: A 10/10! This has all the splendid elements of ABO with an added twist of a West setting and time!

The Team Omega by AngeNoir for PhenomenalAsterisk

Summary: Steve Rogers is thawed, stressed, and not quite sure what Director Fury wants with him. Giving him a unit of all alphas, even if most of them Steve had fought alongside when the alien menace had nearly wiped out the entire city of New York... The thing is, more than four alphas wouldn't work in a unit with one another, not for long. Everyone knew that. Steve knew that, intimately, with the Howling Commandos.

Which was why Director Fury had, apparently, assigned them an omega.

Frustrated at the inability to even choose his team, let alone choose the omega that was supposed to keep the peace between everyone, Steve storms back to his unit's assigned quarters. There, he meets Tony Stark, grandchild of Howard Stark, clearly unhappy with his position and just as clearly unwilling to break contract with the U.S. military complex. So why was someone like Anthony Stark here, in Steve's charge?

And how could Steve even act upon his genuine attraction, with the power imbalance clearly in place?

Note: I admit, this has one of the best takes on ABO I read in a while! It’s a good read!

If You Love Me I'll Love You Too by Carsonian

Summary: Starrk hands Steven a knife, leatherbound and strong, to fulfill the rite. The Alpha must go first. Steven takes Anthony’s hand, slices a clean line across the palm.

“And in the sharing of blood, I am become yours.” Steven recites.

Anthony takes the knife and returns the favour.

“And in the sharing of blood,” He looks up, eyes dark and unfathomable, “I am become yours.”

Note: A well-written ABO Stony fanfic with a dash of arranged marriage and Middle Ages (though the time period wasn’t exactly specified). It takes on how Steve and Tony navigates through their forced marriage and how they learn to care for each other!

Tribute Given, Treasure Gained by sphagnum

Summary: “Steve,” the Captain said, hand over his chest.

Tony licked his lips. Was he supposed to give his name, or remain silent until he was asked a direct question? The Captain--Steve, apparently--already knew his name, he had to, it had been included on the settlement he and Stane had signed. Was this a test? Time was passing and Steve was still waiting with his hand on his chest but Tony had to figure out the right answer fast or when Steve moved he might--“

Tony,” he blurted.

“Tony,” Steve repeated. He hadn’t come any closer. He said something short that might have been pleased to meet you or you look good on your knees. Tony had no way of knowing and he wasn’t going to risk echoing it. He kept quiet. See, Howard? I do know how to shut up when my life depends on it.

Note: A nice ABO with Warlord!Steve! This is a great read, with the steamy smut on the end being a nice cherry on top!

While We Pretend to Sleep by Typo66

Summary: Tony pretends to be an alpha. Then he forgets he had been pretending. One thing he remembers is Steve. Steve tries to help out in his old fashioned, ethically strict way. Tony likes making big gestures. He has never been subtle.

Note: Another Stony classic! This is a great take on ‘Tony denying his nature’! A deifinite 10/10 read!

Rockabye by BladeoftheNebula

Summary: Cute alphas didn’t appear out of nowhere to help ruined omegas. That was a widely accepted fact.Tony Stark had always known his life wouldn’t be easy as a genius omega in an alpha’s world. But not even he predicted getting knocked up and forced to move to a small town in the middle of nowhere.

Note: A fun read where Firefighter!Steve lend a hand to pregnant Tony! It also takes place in a Small Town kind of setting, which is an added bonus!

In the middle of the night by defenceless_stark

Summary: In the past, alphas used to only mate with other alphas and maybe the occasional beta or delta. Omegas were seen as useless and scum to alphas. Omegas would only stay in a pack if they could keep up and they were only protected if they were the head alpha’s offspring. Over time, alphas soon discovered that omegas were useful for producing offspring, due to their high fertility rates and weaker genes, so, in most cases, only the alpha’s genes will pass on. Alphas soon evolved to an omega’s scent, making them possessive and dominant over omegas which led to an increase in abuse and mistreatment. Steven Rogers was expected to be an omega, but much to everyone’s to surprise, he was an alpha.

Anthony Stark was expected to be an alpha, but much to his father’s disappointment, he was an omega.

Like any omega, Tony had his fair share of omega abuse and harassment. But unlike any other omega, he wasn’t one to sit around and take it.

Note: If you are avid ABO fan, this is a Stony fanfic that you wouldn’t want to miss!

In A Rut by rougewinter

“You don’t have to do this, Tony.” Pepper said as she tightened her white knuckled grip on the clipboard in her arms. “I’m sure we can find someone else.”

“Yes. I do.” Tony said, surprised that his voice came out steadier than he expected.

Or the one where Steve goes into an Alpha Rut and Tony is the only one who can help.

Note: A short but sweet-well, not sweet since it has that dose of great smut! make sure to check it’s sequel where Tony is in heat! (Heat Up by rougewinter for avengemehamlet)

Please don’t (give me what I want) by masterlokisev159

Summary: After the events in Siberia, a new law is declared and Steve and Tony's newly reformed relationship is torn to pieces.

Then Tony goes into heat. And Steve is adamant to save it.

A post-civil war story where Tony is put in a position where he cannot consent to anything at all. Steve, the strongest alpha of all time, is furious.

Note: For those Stony shippers that wants a bit of angst!

Perfect Man for the Job by Ilearnedtoreadforthis

Summary: After his ordeal in Afghanistan, omega Tony creates the Stark Housing Initiative: Executive Level Development (or S.H.I.E.L.D., for short) to provide housing to returning veterans. When alpha Steve Rogers applies to manage S.H.I.E.L.D., it turns Tony's life upside down.

Note: This is a cute employee/boss story with a dash of ABO!

World Acclimation by Del_Rion

Summary: When an unexplained phenomenon washes over the entire planet, the Avengers are left to struggle along with the rest of the population. Chains of command, relationships and friendships alike are put to the test as new biological imperatives take hold, and only one thing is certain: the world will never be the same.

Note: This is one of my favorites! It has a unique take on ABO that I don’t see often. And well, Am still hoping for the next installment. Though, read the tags carefully!

You Are Not Broken, Just Bent. by NazakiSama166

Summary: He won't break!

No matter how much he was tortured, no matter how much he was beaten, starved, threatened... He won't, he won't, he won't!

Until he did...

--- When Shield uncovers a hidden sub-basement in the house of Obadiah Stane, they find a tortured omega and his pup. Everything went down the drain when that Omega turned out to be Tony Stark, Howard Stark's son that went missing six years ago.

Note: Anyone in the mood for angst?

WIP:

Finding Pack by Naferty

Summary: In a world where pack means everything from status to fame to survival and to family, newly pack-less Tony Stark is trying to survive after those he once trusted betrayed him, and starting over by searching for a new pack to take him in, but with his age and status weighing heavily on his shoulders finding someone to take a chance on him might be easier said than done.

What pack wanted an old infertile omega in their ranks? Certainly not the famous Avengers pack led by the equally famous Captain.

Note: This is a bit of a slow burn Stony fanfic that ticks all ABO boxes! It’s an all-time-favorite and classic!

Secrets Don't Make Friends by sayah1112

Summary: Tony Stark has a secret. Several, in fact. Outed to the world as an Omega, he finds himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. His only hope at salvation rests upon the strong shoulders of a certain Captain Steven Rogers. The problem? Rogers hates his guts.

Note: Another favorite of mine! This is a great hurt/comfort fanfic centered on stony!

This is just part 1 guys! I’m kind of a big fan of ABO so I have a few more to recommend!

#stony #stony au #superhusbands #stevetony #stony fic #stony fic rec #stevetony fic #stevetony fic rec

355 notes · View notes

kira-fluff · 4 years ago

Note

please please PLEASE may we have a part two to the 'only one bed' piece you posted 🥺🥺 your writing is INCREDIBLE and I loved it so much 🥺🥺🥺 if u decide to do a part two then thank u so much in advance,, hope u have a good day 🥺

a/n: you asked for it (some others did too but this anon was so adorable so I’m replying to this one) so I’m gon’ give it to u <3 also, THANK YOU I am being 1000% honest that your comments seriously brought me to tears I was SO happy you all loved it. when I say pt.2, I kind of assume that it’s with the same characters (since no one specified others) so that’s what I’m gonna do!

Context provided, don’t worry babes

WARNINGS: sexual harassment, intoxication, extremely heavily suggestive (it gets pretty spicy)

Also contains spoilers from part 1 but like why would you even read part 2 if you haven’t read part 1? Get outta here and read it!! (Why is this even a warning? I don’t know don’t question my methods)

“There’s only one bed” [PT.2] PT.1

Saeyoung

You awoke to a sleeping Saeyoung, his toned arms enveloping your small body in a hug. Shamelessly, you laid still for a few moments longer.

When you’d noticed him stirring awake, you quickly shut your eyes once more, trying to conceal your growing smile

Saeyoung blinked a few times before registering at last where he was

He needed a little more time to register why you are in his arms

Pretending to be asleep again, you nuzzled further into his chest, letting out a soft groan

Saeyoung’s mind flew to DANGER MODE

He felt kinda guilty holding you in his arms because let’s face it there’s no way he isn’t enjoying this

He was so stunned that, for once, he was at a loss for words (shocking, I know)

Blinking out of his stupor, he murmured, “Y/N?”

His morning voice was... nice.

You pretended to “wake up”, fake yawning before saying, “Yes, Saeyoung?”, subtly batting your eyes a little

(It wasn’t subtle)

But since Saeyoung is an actual fucking moron, he can’t tell the difference

Play it cool, Seven. She can’t know that you know she was doing this all night and you didn’t do anything.

“Wow”, Saeyoung choked out a laugh, “I didn’t know you liked me this much.”

You look down, in between the two of you before slowly making eye contact with him again, smirking in disbelief, “I could say the same to you.”

A slow blush crept up his face at the innuendo

But he was NOT about to lose

Saeyoung Choi is NOT a loser

“Oh, yeah? Well, I wasn’t the one screaming my name last night.”

You gasped, “Screaming?! I didn’t scream -- I would’ve remembered a dream like tha-- Oh!” You quickly covered your mouth, already feeling regret seeping into every bone of your body.

Saeyoung openly chuckled, looking at you with a sort of darkness in his eyes

“You’re more dangerous than this whole mission.”

You were still out of sorts, failing to come up with a comeback besides a quiet, “I wasn’t screaming.”

A shit eating grin replaced the cool smirk on Saeyoung’s face

“I win.”

“Eat a dick, Seven.”

“Sorry, I think I’m more attracted to the one who was moaning out, ‘Oooh, Saeyoung~~~’“

You threw a pillow straight in his face, muttering a “shut up”, blushing profusely

Ever the competitive fucker, Saeyoung proclaims an all out pillow fight

It is WAR

Throwing pillow after pillow at each other in between giggles and taunts and jeers

“Take no prisoners!” you shouted, feeling unbeatable

Until Saeyoung grabbed your ass, pulling you down with him, earning a yelp from you

“What the fuck, Sev’?! You cheater!!”

“I don’t know, my hand’s a lot more comfortable here!”

You scoffed, “Oh, YOU! YOU are gonna GET IT!”

Saeyoung threw back his head in laughter but abruptly stopped when you grabbed his face with both your hands, and forcefully kissed him

He let out a “MMPH!”, eyes wide

Before, of course, kissing you back with equal force

Gasping for air at last, you spoke in between breaths, “I......win..”

“Actually, darling, I think I just did.”

Noticing your loss for words, he smirked before asking, “So.... what’s my prize?”

You didn’t have to be asked twice, “I think I have something in mind...”

His eyes met your own before slowly scanning your body, then snapping back to your eyes once more

You bit your lip

“I know you’ll lose at least one thing tonight.”

“Bold of you to assume--”

“Just shut up and kiss me again.”

Wish granted ;)

Yoosung

Yoosung glanced away, taking a deep breath before saying, “Yeah, yeah I did. I really like you.” You couldn’t hold back the big ol’ smile that took over your face as you proudly declared, “Me too!!” Right when Yoosung was going to go in for a kiss, he saw his auntie suddenly right next to the both of you

“Oh my GOD when did you get here?!”

She smirked, “My question first, dearie, what did you two like?” Neither of you answered, your cheeks growing red

“You know, the first time your uncle did it with me I felt the same way. Like, what a man! Must run in the fam--”

“OKAY! THANK YOU FOR THAT AUNTIE BUT BREAKFAST IS CALLING MY NAME MM SMELLS GOOD SEE YOU LATER.”

Your blush didn’t leave you as you smeared strawberry cream cheese on your toasted bagel. This trip was going to be very VERY difficult. Thank God there was alcohol. And Yoosung. And probably dogs. And Yoosung. Yeah. Gotta love relatives.

Following this stunning confession, you felt dumb because, well, you still didn’t know where you really stood with Yoosung

So when night came, you were ready to go to a party

Putting on your earrings and making sure your clothes were laid properly in place, you stepped out of the resort room to a waiting Yoosung

“H-hey, thanks for waiting for me,” You nervously tucked a stray hair behind your ear.

Yoosung avoided eye contact, opting for a stiff nod

You gazed deeper into the side of his head, feeling hurt.

But... you decided not to say anything.

Walking together to the reserved room the resort had made in preparation for Yoosung’s uncle was awkward, not a single word spoken between the two of you

When you arrived, Yoosung’s eccentric uncle immediately shouted, “’Sung ‘Sung! Get over ‘ere! We’re gonna have a part-ay!!”

You suddenly understood why Chaewon was the way he was

and why Yoosung’s parents forced him to go on this trip instead of themselves

Since you didn’t know his name, you opted for your nickname -- Uncle Alcohol

Cuz he had a LOT of it

In number, and in the amount he shoved down his throat at any given time

Seriously, how is this guy already drunk?!

You watched as Uncle Alcohol shoved a sloppy arm around Yoosung, not so quietly shouting something in his ear above the blaring music

You were too far away to hear, thank goodness, but you took note of the way Yoosung immediately blushed and shook his head fervently, his hands held in front of his chest

Before you could take in the atmosphere further, you felt a shiver down your back

Immediately turning around you saw the oh-so-famous Chaewon

“Heeeyyyyyyy babbeeheehe...... Wannnaaa..... sliiidee in my room tonighhht?” Laughing in a way what made you cringe and your ears numb, you replied, “No thanks, bud. You should probably get some water.”

“Nooo I want youuuu” Grabbing your boob in his hand, he laughed again, saying, “Nice”

Oh my god.. where the fuck is Yoosung??

You quickly slapped away his hand, shouting, “Stay the hell away from me asshole! Try anything else again, and I won’t give a shit that you’re drunk or Yoosung’s family, I will call the cops on you!”

He acted as if he didn’t hear you, but must’ve gotten the message because he sauntered over to another group of girls

Aren’t those his cousins? What the fuck is WRONG with that guy?!

The loud smack and curses answered the question. You didn’t attempt to help when you saw them proceed to beat the absolute shit out of him, blood and all.

What you needed was a drink. Something really, really strong.

You walked over to the resort bar tender

Something about your face must’ve given it all away because he began with a “Rough night, huh?”

“Do not even fucking ask me about it. God, please, I’m sorry that was rude. I just need something strong... just give me three fingers of rye.” You waved your hand nonchalantly, sitting at a bar stool.

“Are you sure, lady? You don’t look the type to handle that kinda liquor..”

“That’s kind of the point.”

He sighed, “Look... I’m not supposed to condone you getting completely shit-faced.. but you look like you need it tonight. I’ll make something a little easier down the throat, okay?”

You nodded, exasperated.

You didn’t know what it was, but it did the trick. It’s fruity taste easily passed down your throat, leaving you feeling lighter and more at peace.

“’nother one.”

He obliged, pouring another glass for you.

Four drinks in and your world was already unbelievably wobbly.

You were seeing double, looking at the bartender’s second form

You laughed, it all seemed to funny

Standing up, you stumbled over to the dance floor, grabbing one of Uncle A’s craft beers.

Dancing was fun for a few minutes, grateful no one had bothered you.

But you sat down, tears suddenly welling in your eyes

You were alone.

Yoosung.

Your mood brightened just by remembering his name

Giggling, you called out, “Yoosuuungg~~~” repeatedly around the room

One of the cousins heard your call, laughing because everything was funny, before grabbing Yoosung’s arm and shouting what they’d just heard

Yoosung quickly glanced over at you, brows furrowed. They softened a little upon seeing your drunken state

He’d had a beer or two, but the good feeling got old quickly and he sobered up by the time he’d noticed his cousins acting like complete fools

Upon seeing him, your smile grew to a big, childish grin

“Hiiii Yoosuuunggg...”

“Jeez, Y/n, how much did you drink?”

You giggled, playfully sticking out your tongue, “not sure~ a few.. probably..?” you laughed again, winking at him

“Hey, let’s get you some water, yeah? On second thought.. we gotta get outta here. I’ll carry you to our room.”

Your eyes shamelessly stared at his lips, not listening to a word he was saying

“Yoosunngg~~ I want you to fuck meeee”

Yoosung held the bridge of his nose in between his fingers, “L-let’s just go.”

Putting your arm over his shoulder, he carried most of your weight.

“Yoosuuung I want to have your babiess~~”

Yoosung blushed and looked down, continuing to walk, “You’re way too drunk.”

“Yoosunggieee I want to know what it feels like to have your d--”

He quickly shushed you, looking around for other observers

He basically ran to your resort room from there

Taking a long sigh as he finally had got you in the room, he wiped some sweat off his face

Just when he’d gotten up to get a water bottle for you, he heard retching noises

Before he could stop you, you upchucked all over yourself and some of the cheap resort carpeting

Groaning in physical and emotional pain, Yoosung muttered a quiet, “why me”

Before putting his arms under your arm pits and dragging you to the bathroom

He spent a good 10 minutes just trying to get the stupid shower to turn on because of course at any other place than your own house it’s never easy

Then, after getting the temperature just right, he forced you to down at least half of the water bottle

“Are you able to take off your clothes by yourself, Y/n?”

You giggled back, shaking your head

“Liar.”

“Help me take ‘em off pweaseee”

“No!”

You started tearing up again, your lip wobbling

“You know I can’t do that sweetie, you’re drunk.”

“No ‘m not.”

“Yeah, you are.”

You looked up at him before sighing and lifting up your shirt, fully exposing half of your naked body to him

He screamed like a little girl, running and slamming the door behind him

You pouted, “That’s no fun.”

After getting out of your clothes, you devised another poorly thought through plan

“Yoosunngggieee I need help washing myselffff”

“Um.. okay, lemme go see if I can get a hold of someone...”

“I want it to be you. I want it to be you who sees me like this. I want it to be you. Only you.”

“S-stop..” He said through the door.

“Please?”

Sighing, Yoosung knew there was no one who wasn’t drunk or available to help.

He did what any good guy would do. He proceeded to blind fold himself, opting for reaching his hands out to guess and where things were.

You laughed, “’Sunggiee you know you’re still gunna be touchin’ me”

“I’m not going to.”

“You said you’d help me!”

“Yeah, getting shampoo or something like that!”

“How ya gunna do that with somethin’ over your eyes?”

“I didn’t think it through that far.”

You sighed, conceding and attempting to wash yourself (which ended pretty badly) but, keeping his word, he managed to assist you the best he could without touching you.

He pitied the hangover you’d have... and the regret.

At last carrying you to bed after getting you another drink of water, he began cleaning the putrid stain you’d left on the carpet.

It was about 5AM when he’d finished, finally crawling into bed.

He thought about the way it felt last night compared to now

and he blamed himself.

He was the one that made you get so drunk you essentially passed out

Looking at you again, he sighed.

Tugging you close into his arms, he whispered a soft, “I’m sorry.”

Your subconscious must’ve heard him because you said in your sleep, “’s ok.”

Jumin

And suddenly your faces weren’t so far apart. And you couldn’t help but slowly close your eyes. Jumin was confused. He can be a bit of a pea brain, so he of course said, “I’m sure you’re very tired.” He shut off the light, reaching over you. You held back the big frown you’d gotten when you realized he’d rejected you. Unbeknownst to you that it took everything in him, from the moment he’d saw you in the jet cabin, not to scoop you up in his arms and make out with you the whole way there.

You were awoken by birds chirping outside the massive estate window

You made eye contact with an already staring, wide-eyed Jumin

Upon realizing you’d woken up, he averted his gaze saying, “Breakfast -- soon.”

You missed the crimson color of his face, instead getting up and stretching (like you didn’t learn your lesson last time)

Then, you made your way over to the fresh coffee that had been delivered to your room minutes before

Adding a shit load of cream and a dash of sugar, you turned to see Jumin staring at you. Again.

You breathed out a laugh, “What are you looking at?”

Jumin’s brows knit together for a split second before he again looked away, his soft blush never fading, “It’s hard not to.”

“Look at wha--” Your eyes grew wide in realization, looking down at the lingerie hardly covering your skin, Jumin’s shirt no where to be seen.

You screamed, making a poor attempt to cover yourself shouting, “Oh my god I’m so sorry I forgot!!”

Again, Jumin found his gaze resting on your body, stifling a groan.

He at last spoke, his deep voice reverberating throughout the room, “You... you’re making this all.. so much more ....difficult.”

You then grew defensive, “Made what difficult? Ogling at me without staying anything?!”

His eyes glowered with something you couldn’t quite place. “That’s not what I meant”

He walked slowly toward you, causing you to take steps backward

He’d backed you up against the wall, letting out a deep breath through his nose

With glittering eyes, he grabbed your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look up at him instead of the ground

“You’re doing on purpose, aren’t you?”

You gulped in anticipation, “D-doing what?”

Jumin raked his eyes down your body then looked back up at you with a sarcastic expression that said, “really?”

“N-no! I didn’t have a choice!!”

“Your clothes would’ve been dry hours ago.. if it really bothered you--”

“Well I was really tired from the jet ride and putting up with you!”

Jumin looked surprised for a moment before grinning sardonically, “Putting up with me? Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to control myself when you’re constantly grabbing me, touching me, everything!”

“I didn’t do all that on purpose!” Okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but you weren’t about to admit that to him when he was being such a dick.

He laughed dryly, “Yeah, okay. All I’m saying is that I don’t find it very funny.”

“You think that you’re just some big joke to me?!”

“What other explanation is there?”

You were practically hysterical in your laughter saying, “You’re unbelievable.”

“Oh yeah?” he challenged.

“Yeah,” you glared back at him, your faces inches apart.

Before Jumin could realize what he was doing, he pulled your hips flush against his own, crashing his lips harshly on yours.

Letting out moans of both desperation and anger, your eyebrows furrowed as you deepened the kiss, gasping when Jumin slid his tongue so far into your mouth you swore you felt it going down your throat.

After what felt like hours, you parted for oxygen, both breathing heavily, before going in for another long, simmering kiss

You felt Jumin smirk against your mouth causing you to lightly smack his chest, hating that he knew he’d gotten a rise out of you.

He grabbed your wrist against his chest, slowly guiding it to his first button of his night shirt.

You made quick work of removing all the fastenings, nodding and obeying him when he commanded, “Jump”

Your legs tied round his waist, you continued to make out, pulling at the waistband of his pants.

Jumin moaned into your mouth before parting to say, “You will be the death of me, little spitfire.”

Let’s just say the whole fiance thing might not be a lie anymore.

Zen

Zen wanted to say something smooth like “I’ve always wanted to do that.” But instead he said “I’ve always wanted to do you.” He mentally smacked his head, blaming the lack of oxygen for his stupidity. But you smirked up at him coyly, replying, “Then why don’t you?” Um, yeah, rip your hotel neighbor he will literally hate both of you so much.

You awoke you Zen rubbing his thumb on your arm, basking in the morning light

He groggily said, “’mornin’ babe.”

“I’m ‘babe’ now?”

“What else am I supposed to call my beautiful girlfriend?”

You leaned up and kissed him softly, smiling.

“I love you, Zen. So much.”

“I love you, too, Y/n. If you didn’t already get that from when we...”

You laughed shyly, “yeah..”

“I know I skipped a few steps, but I have never been happier and more sure of anything in my life.”

You looked up at him, peacefully grinning.

“Hey, let’s get married.”

Zen choked on his spit, “R-right now?!”

You giggled, “Not right now, but soon. I dunno, we’ve been friends for, like, forever. Now that we know we like each other it seems like the next step.”

Zen looked at you, searching your face to determine whether you were serious or not.

Detecting that you weren’t joking he laughed airily saying, “Sure. Whatever you want princess.”

He kissed the top of your head, whispering, “You’re so beautiful, ya know that?”

Sighing comfortably, you nodded, falling back into sleep.

“H-hey! Wake up!!” Zen shouted, giving up and just cuddling up to you instead, stroking your hair gently.

The concert wasn’t until late that night -- he had time to spare.

....Even if he didn’t, he’d make time for you. - 3 months later

In classic Zen and Y/n style, you’d eloped shortly after the tour ended.

“Hey, Y/n? Have you seen my grey t-shirt?”

You looked up from your laptop, “Mhm, it’s in the dryer.”

He sighed, “Thanks babe”, before making his way down to the mudroom where your laundry was kept

He sifted through the hot laundry in the dryer, not seeing his shirt anywhere, when he hard a crash.

“Y/N?!”

He rushed out to the living room, glancing from the smashed coffee mug on the ground, to you.

“Y/N?! Are you okay?!!!”

You clutched your stomach in anguish, beads of sweat forming at your brow, “Y-yeah.. my stomach hurts so bad ‘s all.”

Zen was having NONE of that

He rushed you to the Emergency Room, holding your hand the entire time.

“It’s gonna be okay, Princess, I promise.” You nodded, before losing consciousness -

you awoke to a depressing hospital room, meeting Zen’s worried eyes.

“How long was I out..?”

“For a few minutes.”

You sighed in relief, feeling a lot better than you were when you were rushed to the ER.

All of a sudden, a doctor entered the room looking stern.

“I wanted to discuss the diagnosis with the two of you when you were both physically present.”

You blanched, looking at Zen with fear etched in your eyes.

Zen held your hand tighter, before saying, “What’s the problem?”

The doctor looked in between the two of you before letting out a little laugh, “There’s nothing wrong, actually.”

You both looked confused, Zen proudly saying, “Then why’d you look all doom and gloom when you came in here?!”

The doctor roared with laughter saying, “Eh, I get a kick out of the faces you guys make. Ah, now to the diagnosis.”

“There’s still a diagnosis?!”

You shushed Zen, nodding at the doctor.

He took a breath before saying, “Miss Y/N Hyeon, you’re pregnant.”

Both your eyes grew wide, mouths slacked

“O-oh, oh my gosh!!”

Zen enveloped you in a big hug, congratulating you (and also hiding his tears)

This man could not hold back the proud grin he sported for MONTHS

I simp for this prompt so if someone asked, it’s not like I could say no to writing it for more characters.......right? lol Also, I came to a realization that I made that a fanfic rather than a headcanon.. so oh well, right?

560 notes · View notes

charlie-rulerofhell · 3 years ago

Text

An interview with Måneskin: “It's not about out bodies, it's about our music”

Heyo, I'm back with another translation. This time the article is from the German Rolling Stone website who met with Måneskin after their TikTok performance at the Schwuz, Berlin, and posted the interview yesterday. Again there were some interesting questions asked (and the pictures they added to the article are quite nice, though severely lacking some Ethan content, but check it out!).

Again, I hope that no one has already gone through the effort and translated it or is currently working on a translation. Also this is an official invitation, if you stumble across any articles or video interviews in German that you would like to have translated just message me and I'll get to it! (or if you just wanna chat about Måneskin, my inbox is always open :))

Have a great day everyone!

Full article under the cut.

-----------------------------

An interview with Måneskin: “It's not about out bodies, it's about our music”

Jose-Luis Amsler

July 6, 2021

Måneskin are just what this generation has been missing. Passionate, corny, and full-on honest. In an interview with Rolling Stones, the ESC winners explain to us why they would never work in a normal job and why the hype for their appearance is sometimes going too far.

Damiano, Victoria, Thomas and Ethan are entering the nearly deserted dance hall, before they wait on stage in a red-blue spotlight. They are wearing glittering fish net tops, black tape across their nipples, leather pants, heels and make up. The camera men who are filming in portrait format (9:16) suitable for TikTok are whirling up the haze of the fog machine.

Måneskin are [in] Berlin to give a TikTok concert. A TikTok livestream of this scale has not been done often – tension is in the air. The four Italians don't know at this point that due to the stream the few people present are not allowed to clap or cheer. In complete silence and with slight uncertainty the four are crossing Neukölln's club Schwuz. A few puzzled glances are exchanged. Finally, Måneskin are striking the first chord.

Then the rich sound of Ethan's bass drum is tearing through the silence. It's almost as if someone has flicked a switch somewhere. There it is, the rock star presence that is hovering over everything they do, with an ounce of arrogance (in the best sense of the word). Singer Damiano is dancing lasciviously on his heels, and during an especially ecstatic solo guitarist Thomas is throwing himself down on the floor in a way it can only be done by a passionate 20-year-old musician who had never had to worry about the looming doom of an artificial knee joint [for 'passionate' the interview is using the term 'besessen' which means 'possessed', and although I think it's rather supposed to describe the way Thomas is 'possessed / obsessed' with the music, thus passionate for the music, you never know if they didn't mean to say that the way he dances looks 'possessed' … I mean, they might be on to something here ;)]. Around half an hour and about 120 decibel later, Damiano says their goodbyes with an almost shy-sounding “Okay, bye.” After the performance, we do our interview in the Schwuz.

Rolling Stone: It was a little bit weird, right, when you went on stage today?

Damiano: Yeah, that was really strange (laughs). They only told us after the performance that the audience was instructed to stay silent for the stream.

Vic: But at least they weren't silent because we were shit (all laughing). We are slowly getting used to playing without a live audience. I mean we are doing this now for more than a year.

RS: What do you think about these new kinds of concerts such as the TikTok livestream today?

Damiano: Well, at the moment it is the only option to perform anyway, so it's alright. But of course you cannot compare this to a proper concert.

Thomas: But it's pretty cool that so many people can experience our concert live.

Vic: Also we're gonna start touring again soon. Right now we are arranging some festival and gigs. In December we will be touring Italy and afterwards we are planning to go on tour through Europe. But we don't have anything fixed yet, there is just a lot going on at the moment.

“A lot going on”. Quite an understatement considering the recent journey Måneskin has made through the past weeks after their ESC win. Their singles “Beggin'” and “I Wanna Be Your Slave” went through the roof (also thanks to Social Media) and are currently dominating the international charts – lately they were also number one in Germany. There is barely a radio station that isn't playing the band on heavy rotation [would love to know what stations they listen to, have never heard Måneskin played in German radio tbh :( ], and everyone opening Instagram or TikTok these days is flooded by Måneskin content. Every second a new fanpage with the name of 'maneskin_obsession' or 'damianos_slut' is springing up like a (virtual) mushroom. It sounds like a cliche, but Damiano, Vic, Thomas and Ethan became international stars over night.

“Of course it's nice to get compliments. But sometimes they definitely cross a line.” – Damiano David

RS: How has your life as a band changed since your win at the ESC in Rotterdam?

Vic: I think we don't even notice a lot of what's happening. Right after the ESC we went to a studio in the countryside where we made music the whole day long. So at first we didn't realise that so many things were happening all around us – and that we had so many new fans. We're just now beginning to learn what's going on. We were at Sony yesterday, there were so many fans waiting for us. That was crazy.

RS: A large part of the attention you are getting now is about your outer appearance, your style, your attractiveness. Is that getting a little too much sometimes?

Damiano: Of course it's nice to get compliments (laughs). But sometimes they definitely cross a line. Especially when we just talk about our music or about a social or political topic that we care about. In those moments it's just completely inappropriate to reduce us to our appearance. Sure – when I'm posting a half-naked picture of myself on Instagram I know that I will get these kind of comments. And then it's totally fine, I mean in the end I'm posting the picture to show myself. But sometimes it's not the right place for it.

RS: And also you should be allowed to wear what you want without being sexualised, right?

Vic: Yes, absolutely. We are wearing these outfits because we feel good in them, not to put the focus on our bodies. And in general it shouldn't always only be about how you dress. We are musicians – so first and foremost it should be about our music. But I think it will still be a long way until we will reach that point.

“That the boys are wearing make up does not tell you what gender they are attracted to. Those things should never be equated with each other.” – Victoria De Angelis

RS: But still you are sending a message with your style against stereotypical gender roles. I guess it's also not only coincidence that we are in the Schwuz today, which is normally a party location and safe space for the LGBTQ community.

Vic: Yes, that is all part of the positive message that we try to send. We want to give our audience the feeling that they are free. Free to wear whatever they want to wear, be how they want to be and love whom they want to love. It's unbelievable that there is still so much intolerance in our times. That has always been really important to us so we try to talk about these topics. We also believe that the narrow-mindedness of society is an educational problem. When you grow up with people all around you telling you how you should be, you will never feel completely free. The more people are talking about it, the sooner things will change.

RS: Some artists who are advocating for these topics are accused of 'queerbaiting', that they are only pretending to be a certain way to gain more support from the queer community. Have you also been faced with those allegations?

Vic: Yes, a few times. But of course we never pretended to be anything. Some people accuse of us queerbaiting because we look and act the way we do. But that's flawed thinking. We don't believe that clothes are connected to a person's sexuality. That the boys are wearing make up does not tell you what gender they are attracted to. Those two things should never be equated with each other.

RS: This courage for free self expression that you are conveying is mainly lived by our (young) generation through Instagram and the like. What is your relationship to social media?

Damiano: For me it was almost scary at first. The more we grew, the more people were trying to twist all of my words. But over time you start to understand that with more fame you also get more criticism. The happier you look the more hate you will get. It's not only like that for celebrities. If you are brave enough to show the things that make you happy there will always be people that support you, but they are also those that envy you. Of course, this should never lead anyone to not express themselves openly but that's easier said than done.

Vic: We are also trying not to spend too much time on social media. In the end we just try to be honest with our fans and to avoid negativity.

[caption under the picture of Damiano: 'Is already being compared to icons such as David Bowie']

It's actually surprising how little power a win at the ESC holds in most cases. Almost 200 million people are watching this shining spectacle every year – and still, a few months afterwards it is hard to remember who those people were that got covered in confetti during the award ceremony. It's the well-known curse of a casting show that rests on the winning bands. When just next year a new sensation will come to marvel at, how much impact does a win have then? There are exceptions of course, like Lena who is until this day, 10 years after her win in Oslo, a part of the more famous music scene of German pop music. With their charisma, their unusual sound at least for our modern standards, and their contemporary message Måneskin could become such an exception, too.

It's likely also helpful that the band already had a standing in the Italian music scene prior to their ESC participation. Their first album 'Il ballo della vita' already achieved platinum in 2018, three years prior to Sanremo and the ESC. And then there is also the long way that led the four schoolmates to this point that helped them gain the necessary persistence. Because contrary to what some people might want to believe Måneskin are not a phenomenon that has just been deliberately bred to be this way by the entertainment industry for Eurovision.

“I have worked [in a 'normal' job] for a whole month in my entire life – it didn't really end well.” – Damiano David

RS: You were all raised in Rome, the capital of the catholic church. What was it like to start as a young progressive band in such a conservative environment?

Damiano: In the beginning, when we started as buskers, no one gave a damn about us anyways (all laughing). But of course … Once we got a bit bigger there were a few people who had a problem with us. For example when we went to Sanremo, there were quite many people who thought that the way we looked and acted we shouldn't be allowed to represent Italy. They didn't even want to listen to our music first.

Vic: Especially when it comes to appearance and sexuality, Italy is a little more backward than other countries. The church probably also has an influence there. They are often quite conservative of course, so many people grew up with such a [conservative] mindset.

RS: You once said that the song 'In Nome Del Padre' is an answer to exactly those people. What does the song mean to you?

Damiano: Back in the beginning [of our career] we had to deal with a lot of problems. They didn't want to let us play in clubs because we would take too much space as a band or because they didn't like our (fashion) style or because they didn't want to pay us. Italy isn't a good place for bands. Our musical style was also criticised a lot. Many people were telling us: Don't do that [rock music], you won't get popular with that in Italy, you will never achieve anything with it. Of course those comments were hurtful but they were also a good reason for us to continue with what we did. And we turned our sadness into anger. With that song we wanted to tell those people from back then: Fuck off and look at us, we did it!

RS: Did you ever consider working in a nine-to-five job and live a 'normal' life?

Damiano: Nah, not really. For one month in my life I worked [in a 'normal' job] – it didn't end well (all laughing).

Vic: We all made music since we were kids. It's a huge part of us, that we couldn't just ignore. And the most important thing is that you do something that makes you happy. At least that's what we believe. So we started from a young age to put all our time and energy into music.

Thomas: Yeah, exactly. Ever since we were in school together we always made music. That has always been our main focus and it is until today. We play and play and play because it is the only thing that …

Ethan: … we live for.

Damiano: Music has also something very therapeutic for us. Even when we are in a bad mood or fight with each other – yeah, that happens, too – then all of that is gone the moment we enter the stage. Maybe that's the beautiful thing about music – that it allows you to forget everything else. You're just standing on stage, having fun with your friends.

From most bands you wouldn't buy such a corny love letter to music. Mostly it just sounds like an empty phrase, a well-practiced quotable line. But when there is something that defines Måneskin and that becomes more and more evident during our conversation it's their uncompromising honesty. The four of them are definitely not lacking a sense of humour but they take their music very seriously. Which should not be taken for granted in a generation that has mainly produced sarcastic cloud rappers and has made cynical twitter comedy a national sport. And maybe Måneskin are exactly what this generation was lacking all along.

Still, the four musicians, all in the age of 20 to 22, are also prone to the constant need for self-expression, that has become an intrinsic part of today's life. This does not only reflect in the outfits of the band (always 'on fleek') and their Instagram profiles, but also in their lyrics. Their latest record 'Teatra D'Ira – Vol. 1' shows a clear theme: The album is an ode to individuality, accentuated by fast and hard sounds.

Sometimes this message fitting for a Disney movie [really? guess I have been watching the wrong Disney movies my whole life …] is wrapped in a contrasting loud and forceful packaging, but never so much that it becomes inauthentic or self-caricaturing [note: I'm honestly not entirely sure what they wanted to say with this sentence since it uses a lot of rhetorical devices that could be interpreted in different ways, but I'd say this sounds the most plausible]. And in the end, the thing that makes Måneskin so interesting is their unification of the spirit of this time – between TikTok hedonism and an omnipresent political statement – with the music of past generations.

“When you are twenty, you start to think about what the future will hold.” – Damiano David

RS: Your musical style is often described as classical 70s rock, but in fact there are many different influences in your music. Sometimes you groove almost into funk, sometimes it's more rapping than singing. How did this mixture come to be?

Thomas: It's just that we all have our own individual influences and then we meet somewhere in the middle. And we always try to stay open for experiments.

Ethan: Yes, we are very experimental in our song writing process.

Vic: We also don't want to limit ourselves to what is regarded as typical rock music. If rap fits better at some point then we just add that in. It just happens naturally without us thinking too much about it.

RS: So why was it still rock music in the end?

Vic: Because it's the style that we feel most represented by. But actually we just play the music that we enjoy playing. That's really important to us so that we can show something real on stage. We don't want to pretend to be something that we aren't or mock those people that really enjoy our music. You should always be proud of what you're doing and never fake anything just to sell more records.

RS: Is there something like an Italian rock music scene?

Vic: There are quite a lot of bands – but the most of them are much older than us or they are more going in the direction Indie rock. There isn't really a young rock scene, which we think is a pity. But ever since we got more famous people are telling us that they started listening to rock music because of us or that they bought their first guitar and such. That's incredibly nice!

RS: So you're saying that you also want to show this style of music to a younger generation. And you capture this contrast quite well in the song 'Vent'anni', which is a typical rock ballad but lyrically portrays the thoughts of today's youth. Where did the motivation come from to write that song?

Damiano: With the song I wanted to show that I'm just a normal guy, a really typical 20-year-old. I experience the same things that other people in my age are experiencing, I'm just doing another job than them. Also I wanted to describe this age as a whole because I think it's a really special age. At 20 you start to think about what the future will hold. I think it's one of the most important stages of your life. Since we (the four of us) are all in the same age, I then started to mix our experiences together. In the end the song shows what it means to us to be 20. There is a lot of good things – you are quite carefree and are looking at life enthusiastically. But on the other hand you're too young to do certain things and too old to do others. Some people are treating you like a full-grown adult, but …

Vic: … not entirely.

Damiano: Exactly. It can get pretty frustrating at times. We wanted to show our audience: Hey, we're also just 20 years old, and we're going through the same things as you. We understand you.

RS: Except that you are the ones who are becoming a world-wide phenomenon right now. How do you want to maintain this honesty?

Damiano: I think that we could just reach this point because we have always been authentic – for better or for worse. Also we are just trying to have fun with what we're doing together. That's something special that we don't want to lose. In the end we're just four friends who started to live their dream. It's actually pretty simple. Of course – we go on stage, we get a lot of attention, we give interviews – but when we come back home we're just four friends.

#måneskin #maneskin #måneskin interview #my stuff #esc #again if you ever want anything to be translated just hit me up i'm free most of the time #ig my blog is slowly turning into a måneskin fanpage for translations and shitposting #but tbh i'm not complaining #have a great day everyone and happy waiting for sooooon

225 notes · View notes

hyuckssunchip · 4 years ago

Text

Reputation

Pairings: Johnny x Reader, ft. nct 127

Words: 4.3K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), angst, some fluff

Request: Angst 42 and 48 ➵ “You promised.” “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave.” / @jungcherie

(im so sorry i took so long.... i turned a drabble into a story... oops)

Johnny Suh had a reputation that was unmatched.

There was no other way to put it.

And a reputation like his left trails of tears.

A pool of tears that you were currently drowning in.

It was obvious Johnny was dangerous, perhaps that’s why you were drawn to him. While every single one of your instincts had you fighting and rejecting him, you were desperate for him all the more.

It was March 13th that you lost your first will.

“Y/N, right?”

You turned around to find a familiar face towering over you.

“Yeah.”

It was that stupid smile that had you.

“Hey, we have have Communications together. I was wondering if you wanted to do that project together?” He scratched the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. “I just know that you’re insanely smart so... Sorry, wait, that sounds like I’m just talking to you for your grades.”

You giggled nervously, a habit that you did when you were uncomfortable.

“Look, I just... do you? You know, wanna do the project together? I mean, I’m a pretty smooth talker so I can do the presentation. I get good grades too...”

Stupid smile.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. There’s actually a little party at my frat tonight, you maybe wanna come? Get to know each other before we drown in work?”

Fucking stupid smile.

“Yeah. I’d like that.” You blushed at the idea, cursing at yourself for being so obvious.

Parties weren’t really your thing.

But at the time Johnny Suh was.

Your ears were pounding because of the insanely loud level the music was at. You were actually shocked that no one had called the cops with a noise complaint, but the fact that they were on frat row made more sense.

“Y/N. You made it.” A arm was flung over your shoulder and, thankfully the lights were both dim and flashing enough that he couldn’t see the way that you blushed at the action.

“Yeah. Is it always this loud?” You asked, still not so comfortable with the atmosphere.

“What?” Johnny yelled, pointing at his ear, indicating that he couldn’t hear you. Of course he fucking couldn’t. Then he jerked his thumb to the right, nodding at the backyard, which was seemingly empty.

With his hand placed on your back, he guided you outside, your head already thanking him from the escape of noise pollution. It was far better outside of the house.

The two of you collapsed onto the swinging chair, sighing as you cleared your head.

“So parties aren’t really your thing?” Johnny leaned closer, noting the look of relief that you had donned the moment you exited.

“It’s not that I hate them... I’m just not a fan. I mean a bunch of sweaty, horny drunk people grinding on each other. I just like smaller things.” You explained, staring up at the dark sky, shivering slightly at the cool breeze.

“You didn’t have to come.” Johnny suddenly looked guilty, “I didn’t mean to force you into coming, I just... thought I’d invite you.”

You quickly backtracked, “No, you didn’t force me. If I didn’t want to come, I wouldn’t have.” You ignored the voice in the back of your head that begged to differ.

“Right.” He grinned, as if he could read your mind. “You’re not great at lying, but I’m gonna pretend that I believe you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“Were you playing beer pong?” You asked suddenly, causing him to look at you in confusion.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

You laughed, looking away from him, “You have quite the reputation Mr. Suh, even someone like me knows the extent of your skills.”

Johnny smirked, liking how easy you were making it for him. “Is that so? Is that the only skill of mine you’ve heard about?”

You raised your eyebrows, hating the turn that your mind took. “W-what kind of other skills did you have in mind?” You stuttered out.

Suddenly it felt like you were caged in, his arms tense around your frame, causing you to lean back against the back of the swing.

“Tell me what you’ve heard.”

You averted your eyes, unable to take his heavy gaze. His eyes had turned dark, full of lust, and you tried desperately to forget the effect they were having on you.

As if sensing how uncomfortable you were getting, he backed off, dusting off some invisible dirt on his shoulder. He cocked his head to the side with a sly smile, happy with a new challenge.

Things weren’t going to be as easy as he thought they were, but that’s what made it fun.

“No that’s so stupid. Are you kidding me? Robin could absolutely never beat Batman. Is that even a question?” Your hands were waving animately, far too much for an argument about fictional superheroes.

“Sure. I’m just saying that Robin could totally catch him off guard, like out of the blue, you know.” Johnny slurped on his drink shrugging his shoulders like he didn’t care.

“No. Absolutely not. First of all Robin doesn’t have the guts to do something like that and second of all Robin doesn’t have any powers. How on Earth would he beat him?”

“Umm... Batman doesn’t have powers either.” He made a duh face at you, which you chose to ignore.

“Yeah, well he’s got money, and that’s basically a super power.”

“Let’s be real, Batman isn’t even really a real superhero. He’s just a hero. Period.”

You huffed, rolling your eyes at the argument. “That’s a whole different story.”

“I’m just saying.” He sang back teasingly.

“And I’m just saying that this is stupid. How did we even get here?” You laughed, trying to remember how this conversation came about.

“Uh, you made the bold choice of saying that the Batman vs. Superman movie was shit. Very controversial by the way.” He frowned at the memory.

You let your bag fall heavily on the library table, earning you a few glares as studying students dug into their books.

You sent an apologetic look before sliding into your seat. “Let’s just get this presentation done. Our presentation date is the 23rd and I don’t even have a clue of what to write it on.”

“Well the topic is influencers that change your life. Do you have anyone in mind?”He asked, flipping through his notebook, which didn’t really have anything but drawings in them.

“Not really, is there anyone for you? I mean influencer is kind of vague isn’t it? We could pick like an athlete too, or a musician. Those are technically influencers right?”

He nodded, resting his chin on his hand. “Yeah. Influencers don’t even have to be famous do they? Like they can just be someone in your life that made a huge impact on you. Like your parents or something.”

“Yeah, I guess. But that’s kind of hard when you’re working in groups. Like you’re not gonna want to talk about my grandma, you know. Like you don’t even know her. It’s probably just easier to use a famous icon.”

“Okay, so who?” He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling like it would give him inspiration.

“Hmmm... maybe we could do someone like Michael Jackson. Like he may not have affected us personally, but he affected the way that the music and performance was seen afterwards. That’s influential and life changing right?”

“I guess.” He cocked his head, “We could at least start with brainstorming ideas for him and then if we feel like it’s not working we can change it.”

“Cool. I guess we can start with that then.”

And you did. You spent every afternoon for the next week and half with each other in the library, and a little more outside of it.

“That one’s the big dipper.”

You grinned following his finger, but had more difficulty finding exactly what he saw.

“How do you know it’s not the little dipper?” You teased, squinting in to the dark, the scattered stars really just looking like paint splatters to you.

“Because that’s the little dipper.” He laughed, moving his index finger slightly to the right.

“Oh.”

Johnny leaned back into your space, smiling at you look of concentration quickly falling as you gave up.

“Where’s the North Star?” You asked turning to face him, but sucking in a harsh breath when you found your nose just centimeters from his.

Johnny lowered his voice, whispering and pointing without even turning away, “Right there, it’s the tail of the little dipper.”

It took more effort than you thought to pull away, eyes searching for it.

He leaned back, resting his body weight on his hands. “See it? It’s the brightest one.”

“No,” You pouted scooting forward, as if that would help you see it. “Oh, wait! I see it!”

Johnny couldn’t stop himself from grinning as he saw your face light up.

“Wow.” Suddenly your tone turned more mellow, still in awe. “I’ve always wanted to find the North Star.”

Johnny’s chest rumbled with laughter. “Why?”

“Well you know. They say if you get lost, just follow the North Star home.” You turned to face him, eyes sparkling with excitement, but the sound of your voice had gone quiet, almost somber. The smile on your face faded into a sad smile as you all but whispered your next words. “Now I can go home.”

Johnny frowned next to you, not liking the sudden turn in mood. He sat up, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you against his chest.

“What makes you think that you’re not home right now?” He mumbled on the top of your head, staring straight out in the dark.

“I don’t know. I can just feel it, you know? Like I’m just constantly uneasy.” You sighed, digging your face into his jacket. “I think I’ll be able to tell when I get there.”

There was something in Johnny’s chest that suddenly ached, and he felt a sharp drop in his stomach at the thought.

“Maybe you’ll only ever know once you’ve left home.” He muttered, “Then you’ll know that this is actually what it feels like, and it’s so much worse when you leave.”

You stilled against him for a moment before relaxing, mulling over the thought. “That’s so sad though. Why do we only know we’re happy once we’re sad?”

Johnny shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. Why does God make us hurt to only to help us heal?”

The sound of the wind passing through trees was the only thing that comforted you at the thought.

“I don’t want to have to heal, I don’t want to hurt in the first place.” You whisper out, feeling the most vulnerable you had in a long time.

“I’ll never hurt you.” He rubbed at your arms soothingly, feeling a lump in the back of his throat, but he pushed it away not liking the unfamiliar feeling.

“Promise?”

“Of course.”

You let your eyes fall, enjoying just the silence and comfort of each other’s arms and minds.

You woke up wrapped in Johnny’s arms, although it was an unfamiliar feeling you welcomed it with open arms.

Lost in your thoughts for the time being you were suddenly reminded of the conversation you had a couple nights ago.

Was this home?

You had never felt so safe before and it scared you. But you weren’t one to run.

“Good morning.” Johnny mumbled out beside you, his morning voice raspy to the ear.

“Morning.” You whispered back, letting his arm flop over your waist.

“Do you like pancakes?” He asked, letting his eyes fall close again.

“Pancakes?”

“Yeah. Taeyong makes some bomb ass pancakes.”

You giggled, “Yeah, I like pancakes. Especially bomb ass pancakes.”

But he didn’t move and it was only after you tapped him questioningly did he speak up. “Do you think he’ll bring them up if I yell loud enough?”

You smacked his chest. “Stop it. We should go down.”

“In a bit.” He answered, nose buried deep in the crevice of your neck.

A few minutes later you heard the clinking of kitchen tools from downstairs and you stirred. “Johnny?”

“Hmmm...”

“Johnny. Let’s go.”

“Five more minutes.” He mumbled, but he let you out of his grasp anyways.

“Fine. I’ll meet you downstairs.” You paused as you passed by the mirror, eyes tracing over the marks on your neck that Johnny had left the night before. You blushed, realizing that you didn’t have anything to cover it up with, but quickly moved on, attempting to find your shorts that were discarded in the frenzy of last night.

“Check under the desk.” Johnny said, sitting up and watching you.

Sure enough that’s where they were, although you weren’t really sure how they managed to get there.

You shrugged on the last of your clothes, turning to find Johnny doing the same. It took him less than three steps to get to you, landing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Let’s go.”

Taeyong was undoubtedly the closest of Johnny’s frat brothers to you. He had this really calming and sweet aura about him that just made you want to be friends.

“Good morning Y/N. Blueberry or chocolate?” He asked grinning as he took his eyes off the pan for a second.

“Blueberry please.” You slid onto the bar across from him. “Do you need any help?”

Johnny rubbed your lower back comfortingly, “No, you don’t want to get in his way. That’s when he loses his temper.” He whispered the last bit to you, but Taeyong obviously heard it, sending a sharp glare at him.

“Only when there are incompetent people in my kitchen.” Taeyong muttered back.

Johnny ignored the comment, shaking his head at you, “I’ll have chocolate.”

“You’ll get what you get.” Taeyong piped at him, still not over Johnny’s teasing, who grinned in response.

Both of them knew that Johnny was getting chocolate, Taeyong was really bad at being mean.

“Where’s the others?” Johnny asked, sipping on a cup of coffee.

“At school, as they should be because they are college students.” Taeyong answered, sliding a plate towards you. “Enjoy.”

You thanked him and bit into a piece, almost moaning at the taste. “Damn, Johnny told me they were good but I didn’t think it would be this good.”

Johnny swiped a piece from your plate. “What are you talking about? I told you he made bomb ass pancakes.”

Taeyong slid a plate towards Johnny.

His grin widened. “Thank you. You’re my favorite Taeyong ever.”

“I’m the only Taeyong you know.” He put his hands on his hips. “I should be the favorite.”

Johnny sent a wink in his direction before stabbing a piece.

“So I was thinking, that little bakery next to the park, do you wanna go? They just opened and I’ve been dying to try it.” Johnny asked around a mouthful of pancake.

“Yeah, sure. That sounds good.” You felt your stomach flutter, you were sure whether it was the pancakes or Johnny, but you had a pretty good guess.

“Sweet, we can swing by your place first if you want to get a change of clothes or something.”

You nodded, “Yeah, sounds good.”

“I’m glad that sounds good.” He teased you with a smile.

“Sorry, but it just sounds good. What else do you want me to say?” You pushed back, opting to add another piece into your mouth.

“I don’t know, maybe-”

“Okay, sorry to interrupt your little flirt fest, but can you start that after I leave?” Taeyong asked, making a few pancakes for himself.

“Sorry.” You giggled, sending him a genuine apologetic look.

“I’m not sorry.” Johnny said, shrugging.

You smacked him lightly.

“I’ll take away pancake privileges for a month.” Taeyong quipped, focusing on flipping the pancake.

“Sorry.” Johnny mumbled out under his breath, not one to admit defeat easily.

You laughed at the sight of a pouty Johnny, enjoying the view for the time being.

Waiting for Johnny had become a routine, but honestly you didn’t really mind it. Hanging out on the couch, you had met and befriended quite a few of his frat brothers.

Currently you were sprawled out on the couch with Jungwoo, who was retelling a very interesting story about his trip to the grocery store last week that involved a cereal box and a banana. Although it was a bit of a reach, you nodded and smiled at the right times, not really following the order of events, or really the importance of them.

“What does the fact that you were wearing- and I quote - ‘an incredibly sick pair of joggers’ have anything to do with your story?” You asked, tilting your head in teasing confusion.

“Oh, it doesn’t. I just thought you should know.” He replied matter-of-factly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Right. And I’m so better off now that I know.” You taunted him, voice dripping in sarcasm.

Jungwoo shot you an annoyed, and yet hurt look, before finishing his story. “And that’s how Johnny found out he was allergic to shellfish.”

“Okay. What the fuck? I’m literally so confused.” You cut him off before he could recount his story again. “I don’t really need to hear it again though. Thanks.”

He whined before laying his legs over yours, giving up.

For a few moments, things were quiet as you checked the time. It had already been thirty minutes, where was he?

You rolled your head to the side, finally focusing on the whiteboard that had what scribbles of writing over it.

“What’s the tally for?” You asked, scrunching your nose at the whiteboard that was situated on the far wall of the room.

“Hmmm? The tally?” Jungwoo glanced around looking slightly nervous which had you even more curious. “It’s just a game.”

“Game? What game?” You laughed turning back to see the strikes adorning the board. “It looks like Johnny’s winning.”

“Uhh...” Again with the nervous glances.

You giggled, “You’re losing, aren’t you?” The spot under his name had the fewest tallies and you figured that’s why he was being so shy about it.

Jaehyun entered the room, seemingly in a very important conversation by the way that he was speaking animatedly.

“The game’s over on Friday and Johnny’s gonna win.”

“That’s so stupid. He hasn’t bagged any since Y/N, how is he still gonna win?” Yuta complained all but scowling at the floor, neither of them had yet to notice your presence.

You frowned at the mention of your name, not liking the term ‘bagging’ to be in such close proximity with your name.

“Oh, Mark has a new strike, looks like he finally got Claire into bed.” Yuta continued snorting, “Took him long enough.”

“Wait, what the fuck? How the hell did Taeyong get two strikes?” Jaehyun, squinted at the board.

Yuta snorted, “He had a threesome last night. Can you believe it? This close to the end? It’s like he’s actually trying to compete now.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” You muttered, effectively catching their attention.

“Y/N.” Jaehyun breathed out, eyes wide and darting between you and Jungwoo who was obviously trying to get them to stop talking. “Hey... what’s up? When did you get here?”

“Ummm.... no. What the fuck is going on?”

“What do you mean?” Jaehyun cocked his head, doing his best to pretend like he wasn’t panicking.

“No, I don’t want your bullshit. Just tell me what this game is.” You were using anger to hide your fear. You could feel the pounding of your heart in your head, a throbbing sensation that gave way to a sinking feeling of realization.

At that moment, when his eyes finally met yours. Not Jaehyun’s, not Yuta’s, but Johnny’s as he walked in the room with that fucking stupid smile you felt your last will got out the window. It was at that moment that everything came crashing down.

“Y/N, please can’t we just talk?” Johnny chased after you, begging you to turn around.

“You promised.”

Johnny’s heart dropped at your words, and his chest started closing in in fear. The burning feeling in his throat had him choking, panicking in belated realization.

It wasn’t just the words that you said, it was the way that you said it. So defeated, so broken. So betrayed.

“You promised that you wouldn’t hurt me. Do you remember that? Did you even mean that?” You felt the tears brimming, and you fought the best you could to keep them down. But your wobbling voice let him know.

“Of course I meant it.” He answered breathlessly. “You know me, I don’t say things that I don’t mean.”

“Do I? Do I know you?” You huffed out. “Because I really thought you were someone different.”

“No, I- I’m still me. I’m still Johnny. I just...”

“You just what? You just lied about our entire relationship? If it was even that, because I was just another tally to you wasn’t I? Just another tally on a stupid whiteboard for a stupid game.”

You choked back the tears that were burning in your throat, not bothering to wipe at the ones that managed to escape.

“You know what hurts the most? I actually thought you liked me. I actually thought that you meant all those things that you said to me.”

“I did mean it. I meant every single word, and I still do. Nothing was a lie, my feelings were real. Please just listen to me, I can explain.” He stepped closer, but you took a step back, keeping the distance.

“Explain what? I already heard everything for myself. What are you gonna say, that Jaehyun and Yuta were lying? Hmmm? That it wasn’t a game? That that’s not the reason that you approached me?”

“I...” He couldn’t find any words, because you were right. Every single word that you said was right. He struggled to catch his breath, panicking. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave.”

“I love you. I need you. I can’t- I can’t imagine life without you.”

“That’s not enough.” You clenched your jaw, face going slack. It was as if you were losing the will to even be heartbroken over this.

“Please, I-I’ll do anything, what do you want me to do?” He begged, eye brows nearly touching as they furrowed.

“I don’t want anything from you, just stay away from me.” You mumbled out, avoiding his eyes.

“Baby, please.”

“Don’t fucking call me that, I’m not yours, I never was.” You snapped at him, backing away.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled under his breath and he wasn’t sure if it was meant for you or himself.

“So I’m kinda going rogue here. I know you already hate me, but try not to hate me anymore than you already do.”

Johnny didn’t look anywhere except for you.

The professor seemed to humor him, allowing one of his favorite students to continue with an amused smile on his face.

You on the other hand did not.

You stared at Johnny with a straight face, trying your best to not look flustered.

“The whole point of this assignment was to find someone that changed our lives. But my partner and I struggled to find someone. It’s not that we didn’t have great people around us, its not even that we don’t have people that we admired. It was because no one we came up with really seemed genuine to us. But I found someone. I finally found someone that I could trust, that I let in. But I did something really stupid and fucked it up- excuse my language.”

You watched him stand behind the podium, looking smaller than he ever did.

“You know, before I met you I didn’t think that my life needed changing. I thought I was doing just fine. But then I realized that I wasn’t. I was struggling to even feel normal, to feel like I was living for something. Y/N you helped me find home. Remember when I said that you only understand that you were already home until you lose it? Well I feel it now. And it feels like shit.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, a feeling in the back of your throat burning.

“Y/N. You’re the person who changed my life. And I don’t even deserve that. But I’m here, standing in front of you like a fool because I’m whining about losing the best thing that ever happened to me.”

For a moment you thought he was done, because the silence was deafening.

“Even if you sill hate me after this, I want you to know that you mean more to me than anything else. You are the person that changed my life. You are my person, and I want so badly to be yours.”

There was a beat of silence as he ended abruptly, taking a seat on the other side of the room, eyes still locked on you.

Your professor stood up with a clap. “Well, thank you Johnny for that... interesting presentation.” A wide smile was still on his face despite his word choice. “I guess we should end on that then. Second batch of presentations is on Friday, please be prepared.”

The students of your class stood, shuffling out the exit, voices murmuring to each other.

You sat on the bench outside your lecture hall, watching as Johnny made his way nervously to you.

“You’re an idiot.” You told him as he approached you, bottom lip wobbling against your will. Eventually you broke. “But you’re my idiot.”

Johnny felt a drop of relief in his stomach as he felt like his heart would burst.

“You’ve totally botched our presentation by the way. If we fail it it’s on you.” You shoved him away teasingly.

Johnny grinned, throwing his arm over your shoulder.

“Yeah? Well, I think we did better than you think. I think that things are gonna turn out just fine.”

(sorry, i was supposed to write a full angst, but i couldn’t help myself.)

397 notes · View notes

spencers-renaissance · 3 years ago

Text

I turn and reach for you

Summary: Three months after Hankel, Spencer starts getting terrible nightmares that keep him up at night. He tries desperately to keep his secret until one day when it's all too much to bear anymore. Luckily, Derek Morgan is there to hold him together as he falls apart.

Tags: nightmares, hurt/comfort, ptsd, angst with a happy ending, fluff, literal sleeping together, getting together, post-revelations TW: past non-con drug use mentioned once in passing

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This feels the "Nightmares" square on my Bad Things Happen bingo card, and was written for this prompt by @i-write-whump. Title from a poem by Devon Strang.

After Spencer is kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, he stays with Derek. Nobody on the team wants him to be alone, and he’s always felt the most comfortable with him, so it makes sense. Besides, he’s got the space.

Spencer sometimes wonders whether the team pushed so hard for it because they genuinely believed that, logistically, Derek was the best option, or because they could also see the slow-burning romance simmering under the surface of their relationship. They’ve always had a special friendship, but Spencer can feel the growing tension: the deep and intense looks they share mid-case, the lingering touches on backs and arms, the affection leaking into each ‘pretty boy’ and every ‘Der’.

Perhaps if Hankel never came into the picture they’d already be together — it really had felt like they were on the precipice of something special — but it’s three months later and Spencer’s still sleeping in the spare room; there’s still just as much will they, won’t they lingering in the air between them.

He tries not to mind too much. After all, he’s never had so much free access to the man he’s pined after for years now, and they’re living in each other’s pockets. Almost every waking hour is spent in one another’s company: they cook together, eat together, watch films together, and neither of them are showing any sign of getting sick of it. But every time they’re cooking pasta and Derek says something ridiculous, Spencer wishes he was allowed to lean in and kiss the tip of his nose; every time they sit down to watch something together, he wishes he could burrow into his side and rest his head in the crook of his neck.

(Sometimes, Spencer wishes he could rewind to the weeks immediately after the Hankel incident when Derek would carry him around the flat to keep him off his broken feet; when he could press his face into his shoulder and inhale the scent of complete and utter safety.)

It’s almost torturous, being so close yet so far.

He isn’t quite sure why the nightmares start so late. The nights during the first couple of months are blissfully dreamless, so exhausted from the physical and emotional trauma that sleep was a tantalising escape, but once he’s back in the field, once normal life resumes, everything changes.

The first time he wakes up sweating and panting, heart pounding as he tries to convince himself that he’s no longer in Hankel’s clutches but is safe and sound in Derek’s apartment, he dismisses it as a one-off. He hasn’t had nightmares yet, so why should they start now? He doesn’t go back to sleep that night, too shaken to relax back into the comforting embrace of sleep, too afraid of deception: that he wouldn’t sleep dreamlessly but that the nightmare would be waiting for him once again.

The second time worries him. He gets up this time and gets a glass of water as quietly as possible, leaning with his back against the kitchen counter as he ponders what this could mean for him. The thing is, they’re so incredibly vivid. It really feels like he’s back at the mercy of a three-in-one torturer armed with drugs and belts and guns, genuinely unsure of whether he’ll ever see his family again. He doesn’t go back to sleep this time, either, instead pacing around the living room until Derek wakes up. He lies that he’s only been up for half an hour, and Derek believes him.

The third time solidifies for Spencer the fact that this is a problem. Three is a pattern, everybody knows that, and Spencer spends the rest of the night scouring the internet for studies conducted around delayed trauma responses and discovers the prevalence of delayed-onset PTSD. He’s tempted to contact a professor he met during his third PhD who specialised in the psychology of trauma, but he thinks better of it. Admitting these nightmares would be admitting defeat.

This is something he has to deal with alone.

(He ignores the truth that it’s more fear than anything else that keeps him from telling anyone: fear of being seen as weak, fear of nothing changing, fear of voicing his trauma out loud. It’s easier to pretend it’s about independent agency.)

It doesn’t affect him too much at first. Sure, he’s scared to go to sleep and he sweats so profusely that it soaks through his bedsheets almost every night, but he’s managing. He’s okay. He contributes just as much to their profiles and takes down unsubs without flinching. He dances around Derek like they have done for over a year, and he sits through Dr Who marathons with Penelope just fine. So what if he’s a bit tired? He’s stared down some of America’s Most Wanted and interviewed famous serial killers, he can cope with a little fatigue.

It doesn’t stay that easy for long.

Soon everybody’s asking about the bags under his eyes, his slower reaction times when they visit the gun range, his twitchiness around the team.

“Are you sleeping okay, Spencer?” Penelope asks him one day, brushing a curly lock of hair behind his ears as they sit side by side on the sofa next to a conked out Derek.

He can’t nod his head quick enough. “Yeah! Yes, uh. Yes, Penelope, I’m sleeping fine, I promise,” he says as convincingly as he can, flashing her a smile. He hates lying to her, but he can’t let anyone find out, he just can’t.

Slowly, he begins losing his grip on reality. He’s almost delusional from the sleep deprivation, and he starts seeing Hankel everywhere he goes. He’s stood behind the fridge door, in the foyer of the FBI Headquarters, in the toilets of a local police station, stood right behind the unsub they’re currently trying to talk down, goddamnit.

He’s beyond exhausted, but some nights he still refuses to sleep, too afraid of what awaits him in his dreams, too afraid of the fear he knows he’ll carry into the next day, too afraid of feeling weak again. Helpless. Completely and utterly without agency.

He sits up with his back against the headboard, the main light off but the lamp switched on, scrolling through as many scholarly articles as he can read in a night, drinking cup after cup of steaming black coffee. Most nights he makes it through till morning without sleeping a wink, but sometimes he can’t stop himself from drifting off The nightmares on those nights are the worst.

He isn’t okay and people are starting to notice. Everyone’s walking on eggshells around him right now, but he knows it won’t be long before Penelope organises an intervention that Hotch hosts and Derek directs. The worst part about it is that he feels like a trainwreck waiting to happen. He’s headed straight for complete and utter collapse, and the only possible way to stop the train in its tracks is to reach out and get help, the one thing he can’t get himself to do.

And he isn’t even really sure why.

It all comes to a head on a warm night in July. He’d fallen into bed that night deliberately, actually intending to sleep for once. The bone-deep tiredness had finally caught up to him and he didn’t even care that he was walking straight into the arms of Tobias Hankel, if it meant he got even an iota of refreshing sleep, then it would be worth it.

But he isn’t quite of the same mind when he wakes up at two in the morning like he does almost every night: soaked in sweat with his heart going a million beats per minute, with only one difference. Tonight, he’s crying.

Maybe it’s the emotional turmoil of the last few months catching up to him, or maybe it’s just the severity of this particular dream, but whatever it is, he can’t seem to stop even once he’s awake. Sobs wrack his shoulders as he cries miserably into the pillow, finally letting out the emotions he’s kept bottled up so tightly, and he’s almost wailing after a couple of minutes of anguish.

All he can think as he cries helplessly is how badly he wants Derek. He wants to be wrapped up in his strong and safe embrace, he wants to feel the movement of his soft goatee against his cheek, he wants to inhale the comforting scent of his sleep t-shirts, he wants the warmth and solace that only Derek Morgan can give him, and in that moment, emotionally distraught and so incredibly sleep-deprived, he decides to get it.

He stumbles out of his bedroom and down the hall, stopping once he reaches Derek’s door. He hesitates for only a second before he pushes it open slowly, allowing the light from the lamp they keep switched on in the hallway to gently illuminate the shadows of his bedroom.

“Spencer?” Derek asks groggily, immediately sitting up and wiping his eyes. “What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

At the acknowledgement of his tears, Spencer starts to cry harder, and as embarrassed as he feels, he can’t slow the steady stream of tears rolling down his face as he stands in the doorway like a child in their parents’ room.

“Spence,” Derek says again, gentle and sympathetic, “come here.” He lifts the duvet up and scooches over slightly as if to make room for him in his already spacious king-size bed.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, though, and he stumbles forward, collapsing into bed and wrapping himself around Derek instantly. His arms come up to circle Spencer’s waist, caressing him gently as he holds him close to his body, shushing him quietly.

“It’s okay, Spence,” he murmurs. “I’m here now, alright? We’re gonna fix whatever it is, I promise you. We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this.”

He lets himself cry and cry and cry until his tears are dried up and he’s hiccupping from the force of his sobs. He would feel terrible about the damp spot left on Derek’s t-shirt, but he simply doesn’t have the energy. Instead, he continues to lie there on Derek’s chest, listening to his softly spoken assurances and losing himself in the sensation of Derek’s fingertips caressing the skin of his waist.

After a couple of minutes of silence, interrupted only by the odd hiccup from Spencer’s tired lungs, Derek finally asks the question. “What was that all about, pretty boy?” he asks with a tenderness Spencer isn’t sure he’s ever heard before. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Been having nightmares,” Spencer whispers, keeping his eyes closed against Derek’s imploring gaze.

He feels Derek tense beneath him, his fingers briefly pausing before resuming their comforting patterns on his waist, and a heavy breath escapes his lips. “For how long?”

“Last couple of months,” he mumbles, and somehow another tear manages to escape Spencer’s screwed up eyes.

“Well,” Derek sighs, “I suppose that explains a lot. We’ve been so worried about you, Spencer. We had no idea what was going on but we could all see you withdrawing, and it wasn’t exactly a secret how exhausted you were.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Derek says sadly. “I should’ve pushed harder to figure out what was going on with you. I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this all alone.”

“I didn’t know how to tell anyone,” Spencer says, suddenly desperate to explain as he shifts slightly to look Derek in the eye. “I was so scared and I didn’t want anyone to think that I was weak or I couldn’t do my job anymore, and I just didn’t know what to do.”

“I know, Spence,” Derek says soothingly, “but you’ve told me now, haven’t you? And I’m going to do everything I can to get you some help. We’ll fix this, baby. I promise you, I’m going to make sure you’re happy and healthy again if it’s the last thing I do, okay?”

Spencer sniffs a little, wiping tiredly at his eyes as he blinks up at the sincerity on Derek’s face. For the first time in far too long he manages a smile. “Okay.”

Derek runs a hand through his hair before dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?”

Spencer’s smile widens and he buries his face in Derek’s chest again as his cheeks flush red. “Please.”

Months later, they’ll realise they never officially asked one another to be in an actual, exclusive relationship. Months later, they’ll know instinctively and with absolute certainty that this night was the night that changed everything for them, and exactly one year later, they’ll celebrate their first anniversary on that date.

Tonight, though, they sleep curled up next to one another in Derek’s bed, and although Spencer doesn’t fall into the same dreamless sleep he grew used to immediately after Hankel, for once he isn’t haunted by nightmares, but dreams inflected with hope for what the future holds for them, and he’ll take that over dreamlessness any day.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @ @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds (add yourself to my taglist)

#my writing #moreid #derek #spencer #derek morgan #criminal minds #spencer reid #moreid fic #moreid fanfic #moreid fanfiction #cm #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #derek morgan/spencer reid #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan #spencer reid x derek morgan #userpenemily

162 notes · View notes