#this character had me snorting at the lines lol

[toruskiii]

MR. TELEPHONE MAN!

"𝘔𝘳. 𝘛𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦! 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺'𝘴 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳, 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦!"

Synopsis: Pick up, pick up, pick up— still no answer. Desperately trying to reach you after your argument, Boothill finds himself repeatedly directed to the operator's automated voicemail. 'Please hang up and try again, baby.' Genre: Comfort, fluff Character: Boothill x gn!reader Warnings: Established relationship, mentions of Dan Heng, a little strayed from canon events maybe, slightly ooc, mentions of prior argument, slight angst if you squint, half of the fic is just Boothill and Dan Heng having a heart to heart bro talk lol [masterlist] [about me]

Boothill cursed himself silently, though as vigorously as he could manage since his synesthesia beacon was malfunctioning. Walking briskly around the Parlor car, phone gripped tightly in hand, he couldn't escape the relentless sound of the dial tone on repeat. Meanwhile, Dan Heng observed him with a quizzical expression, one brow arched in curiosity.

Witnessing Boothill in such evident distress was a rare sight for Dan Heng. The ranger typically exuded an aura of nonchalant confidence, often adopting a "fudge it, we ball" attitude towards life's challenges. Consequences were either dealt with head-on or circumvented through sheer audacity.

Reckless. Yes, that word seemed to define him perfectly. And perhaps that's why he was so visibly agitated now. Boothill's thumb hovered over the name 'sweetcheeks' on his phone, a term that made Dan Heng cringe inwardly, yet he dismissed it knowing it was a manifestation of love.

"May I inquire as to your purpose for boarding the Astral Express today? If your intention is merely to cause a disturbance, I suggest you reconsider," Dan Heng stated firmly, crossing his arms and adopting his usual stoic expression, his brow arching slightly. While he and the other nameless welcomed all aboard the Express with open arms, Boothill remained a figure of caution, especially given recent events, despite the significant assistance he had provided.

"What? Ain't you the one who said I could drop by anytime?" Boothill retorted, his frown deepening as he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. His attention flickered momentarily to his vibrating phone before returning with disappointment when he heard the all-too-familiar phrase that had been echoing for the past half-hour. "Sorry, please hang up and call again."

"I never made such a claim," Dan Heng countered, a faint hint of amusement dancing in his narrowed eyes as he observed the disgruntled expression on Boothill's face. "Apart from the conductor, Pom Pom, none of my colleagues have had the pleasure of meeting you. It would be prudent for you to acquaint yourself with them before boarding."

Boothill let out a derisive snort, his thumb instinctively jabbing at the 'dial again' button as he locked eyes with Dan Heng. "Aw, come on now. The conductor already gave me the green light. Ain't that sufficient? And you, you actin' like a youngster. Do I gotta meet your folks before I can come over and play?"

Instantly, Boothill regretted his words, his lips forming a tight line as he realized he had overstepped. "Well, shoot. My apologies," he conceded, his voice softened with regret as he retrieved his hat and made his way to the nearest couch, slumping down with a heavy sigh. This was his perpetual dilemma— he was too forthright, too bold with his language. His words spilled out before he could filter them.

Boothill was baffled by his own behavior. Apologizing to strangers or mere acquaintances came naturally to him, the words slipping out effortlessly, whether they were genuine or not. But when it came to you, it was as if his internal wiring malfunctioned. His mechanical body buzzed with static, sparks dancing erratically, and his words emerged in a tangled mess. The simple phrases— "I love you" or "I'm sorry"— seemed trapped behind a barricade, struggling to find their way past his lips.

"Forget it," Dan Heng sighed, striding over to the dejected figure slumped on the couch. "But do enlighten me as to why you're here just to make a phone call, presumably to your significant other? Is it a must to reach them while aboard the Express?"

Boothill simply shrugged, emitting a grunt of frustration before pulling his hat down over his face, a gesture of defeat. "There ain't no signal anywhere else, I reckon. Figured your train might lend me a hand, even just a tad."

As the number continued to ring with no response from you, Boothill finally opened up, his voice softening as he admitted, "Got into a spat with my partner."

With those words, he began to dismantle the barriers surrounding his emotions, allowing them to spill forth within the confines of the Express. Dan Heng listened attentively, offering a supportive presence to the troubled man.

Boothill couldn't shake the feeling of remorse gnawing at him. He knew he had deeply upset you this time, and he had no one to blame but himself. Who wouldn't be hurt if their own partner hurled insults at them, especially when all they wanted was to show care and concern? Boothill couldn't help but imagine how he would feel if the roles were reversed, and the mere thought made his stomach churn.

"I think I really got under their skin— no doubt about it," he muttered to himself, replaying the scene in his mind where you were left with a furrowed brow and glistening tears threatening to spill. In that moment of frustration, he couldn't fathom why you would bother caring about him. After all, he was no longer flesh and blood; he was encased in metal, his heart silent, and his tear ducts dry.

He couldn't feel pain or sorrow like he used to. So why should you waste your concern on someone who couldn't be harmed or hurt? He couldn't feel anything beyond his face. There was no need for you to worry about him getting into trouble or getting hurt, because he wouldn't feel it.

It was a selfish thought, he admitted, yet at the same time, it wasn't. After all, you were human— a fragile being whose existence could be snuffed out in an instant— while he remained invulnerable. So why waste your energy worrying about him, when he should be the one worrying about you?

As Boothill drowned in his sorrows, his metal hand tapping incessantly on his phone in a desperate attempt to reach you, Dan Heng listened intently, a somber hum escaping his lips as he nodded along.

'Sorry, please hang up and call again.'

Well, fork me.

"Have you apologized?"

"I want to," Boothill admitted, his brows furrowing with guilt. He mulled over various ways he could make it up to you without actually uttering those two crucial words—an apology. Perhaps he could buy you your favorite cake, shower you with affectionate kisses until you couldn't help but giggle, and lavish you with words of admiration.

"That sounds more like a birthday celebration, Boothill. It would be selfish and ignorant of you to avoid apologizing," Dan Heng interjected, cutting through Boothill's thoughts with a firm reminder.

"But— But it's dang near impossible to say those words!" Boothill groaned, frustration evident in his voice as he sat upright on the couch, dialing your number once more, silently pleading for you to answer. "It's like pulling teeth."

"And that's precisely the issue you need to address," Dan Heng replied firmly, his gaze unwavering.

The Ranger slumped back, averting his eyes and releasing a heavy sigh of defeat. "…What do you suggest I do, then?"

"Apologize."

"…you—alright. Fine."

"But apologize like you actually mean it, not just because you have to."

As Dan Heng's words sank in, Boothill felt a sudden jolt of realization. Apologize like he meant it— not just because it was expected of him. The gravity of those words hit him like a ton of bricks, causing him to freeze in place, his wide eyes meeting Dan Heng's steady gaze.

With a nod and an encouraging thumbs up from Dan Heng, Boothill was left to ponder his next move in solitude. Did he truly mean it, this apology? Absolutely. It shouldn't be so difficult to utter those words, right?

His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar automated message playing once more: "Sorry, please hang up and call again, baby."

A small gasp escaped Boothill's lips as he jolted upright, his hands trembling as he fumbled with his phone. Could it be? Was it really you on the other end? "W-wait—! Darlin'? Sweetcheeks? Is that really you?" he stammered, lifting the phone to his ear and pacing in circles, heart pounding with anticipation.

"Forgot my voice already?" Your retort hit Boothill like a punch to the gut, and he could almost see the frown forming on your face. He let out a noise of frustration, his head bowed as he nervously fiddled with the hem of his jacket, rendered momentarily speechless. "Erm— nah. How could I?"

If he still possessed skin and flesh, Boothill was certain his palms would be sweating profusely right now. A man who had faced countless bounties on his head, vanquishing his enemies with a flick of his gun, and executing daring escapes from perilous heights— now reduced to a speechless fool at the mere sound of his lover's voice.

"I, uh… I wanted to talk to you," he finally managed to breathe out, his voice laced with uncertainty. He could almost hear the slight scoff on the other end of the line, a sound that made his heart ache with regret.

"About what? I don't think there's much to talk about after the tantrum you threw at me," your voice came through, laced with a hint of bitterness. Were you being immature? Perhaps. But you had every right to be upset, every right to be salty.

Boothill swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper as he stumbled over his words, the apology he wanted to offer caught in his throat. "I- uh, um…" He cursed inwardly, his free hand nervously tugging at a few strands of his hair in a panic.

Darn it, why didn't he ask Dan Heng when the Express would reach the planet where you resided?

"I wanted to say that I…I'm so���" He groaned in frustration, slapping his hand against his face as he gritted his teeth in irritation. Why was it so blasted difficult to express himself? "I-I'm sorry, darlin'. Truly, I am."

The silence from your end only intensified Boothill's nerves, sending a wave of panic coursing through him. Was this it? Were you going to leave him, leaving him to wander aimlessly without a home once more? "Please, sweetheart. I'm pourin' my heart out here," he pleaded softly, his voice trembling with genuine sincerity.

He listened intently, straining to hear any sign of your response. From the muffled sounds of sheets rustling, he could only guess that you might be on the verge of tears again, and it tore at his nonexistent heart. "I'm sorry for…for yellin' and such. I was actin' selfish and ignorant, and I know that was wrong of me," he confessed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment and guilt as he cast his gaze downward.

Desperation clawed at him, the longing for your touch, the warmth of your presence beside him each morning, the comfort of your embrace— it all flooded his senses. He yearned for a home to return to, a sanctuary where he could find solace in your love once more.

"I'll make it up to you, I swear," Boothill vowed earnestly, feeling a spark of hope ignite within him.

He heard a quiet sigh escape your lips, and he squirmed with anticipation, eagerly awaiting your response.

"You've got 10 minutes to get your ass back into our home, right this instant," you blurted out, attempting to inject a joking tone into your words, but Boothill could detect the slight tremor in your voice.

His heart soared with relief and joy at your words. "Alright— okay, I'll be there. Just let me ask Dan Heng when we'll be arriving, alright?" he replied eagerly, his demeanor brightening considerably. This was his chance to make things right, to rebuild what he had almost shattered. He wasn't about to let it slip through his fingers.

As Boothill's metal boots echoed through the halls of the Express, his heart lightened at the sound of your voice. "I miss you," you confessed, the sniffle in your tone tugging at his wired heartstrings.

A chuckle escaped him, his hand reaching for the doorknob that led to Dan Heng's room. "I missed you too, sweetcheeks. I'll make it up to you, I swear on my bounty," he promised, determination lacing his words.

He could sense the relief in your giggle as you bid him goodbye and hung up, prompting him to knock on Dan Heng's door. "Yo, bro! When we makin' a stop at my planet?"

"We're not," Dan Heng's muffled voice responded, causing Boothill to freeze in his tracks. "We're stopping at Penacony to go to The Reverie to pick up my colleagues."

"…We're what."

[tojiscrack]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄

summary: 11.4k words — you spend some time at megumi and yuji’s open game, but spend some more time with someone else there

notes: i was overwhelmed with the amount of asks, messages, comments, and dm’s the last chapter provoked! (in a good way ofc, i loved it 😭). now i’m just curious — a lot of you (as predicted) hated the events of last chapter. you’re definitely not gonna enjoy this one :) anyway, it’s 1hr past the 22nd of dec, and i intended to get this out for megumi’s birthday, so pretend i did. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR GRUMPY PORCUPINE! <3

tw: shouting, BELLOWING, yelling, whatever other words you might use for that lol, and blood, criminals, and gangs

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"the raven himself is hoarse that croaks the fatal entrance of duncan under my battlements ... come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts!"

the stage lights cast a soft glow, illuminating you as you delivered your lines with striking conviction. it wasn't a performance for a packed auditorium, but a rehearsal for your extracurricular theatre club.

the room was mostly empty, save for a few of your peers and your director, yet megumi could feel the atmosphere buzzing with quiet focus. your voice filled the space, and he silently appreciated how you could throw yourself into a character so conniving like lady macbeth and then jump right into being your bubbly self once again, as though you hadn't just emasculated poor macbeth trembling on the other side of the stage.

not that he'd ever tell you that. the most you'd get is a pat on the head, and even that seemed to be a bit much for megumi.

the lack of an audience didn't matter to you, it seemed; you poured your entire heart into the scene, as if the world were watching.

but it was easy to remind himself of the fact that it was a rehearsal and not a real performance, for every time you reached that exact line, you'd let out a snort and turn away with the same maturity as a child. megumi became more and more unimpressed each time it happened.

"y/n," the director called out, her voice made ten times louder from the echo of the megaphone.

you nodded, but still failed to wipe that grin off your face.

"i got it," you assured her, and megumi had almost missed what you'd said when the loud movement of the seats from somewhere in the backrow had sounded for the nth time. you schooled your face with an expression of determination, but megumi could see the underlying hint of amusement, clear as day. "unsex me here! and fill me from the —"

you'd cut yourself off with your laughter, the sound of it only resulting in more groans from your peers backstage, but megumi only watched you with a raised brow, mentally cursing whoever was making that stupid chair noise from the backrow — your laughter had been drowned out by it.

"i can't do it," you chortled, using the pages of your script to hide your face. "i can't do it!"

the director's sigh echoed around the hall.

"right, adjust the flower crown 'cause it's sitting on the edge of your head, and let's do act five, scene one."

megumi leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he observed the stage's organised chaos. you and your peers bustled about, setting up for the transition to the next scene.

the props crew adjusted the minimalistic set pieces while one of your friends struggled to untangle a misplaced curtain cord. you briefly stepped offstage, laughing with another castmate as they adjusted your flower crown to sit properly atop your head.

as the lights dimmed slightly in preparation, megumi looked up again, his patience steady, fully expecting to see you dive back into the character of lady macbeth without skipping a beat.

and you had — straight away.

you were now at the centre of the stage once more, standing by a fake sink — a prop — your arms extended before you, one hand holding your script, the other with fingers curled towards yourself.

"out, damned spot!" you began, voice striking. "out, i say!"

there was a pause, and megumi half believed that you had forgotten the rest of your lines (even though you were reading out of a paper script held in your hand) but then you looked up, apparently going to improv.

"out, damned fricking spot! get out of here! you damned — damned spot, get away and just — just go and leave and why don't you just leave —"

"y/n," the director called out your name, tone firm and scolding. "stick to the scri— oh for god's —"

you laughed loudly, shaking your head and standing still, your hands back at your side.

"'kay i'm sorry," you sighed, and megumi could tell that you were genuine, but he knew the director couldn't. from his seat in the audience, the director's eyes had narrowed, her megaphone now at her side as she raised a brow at you, the lines on her forehead prominent as ever.

"i'll start again," you told her, and megumi had to strain to catch that, for the stupid chair noise had echoed around the hall again.

you had lifted your script and began hurriedly rereading your lines, but when your eyes had lifted and skimmed the hall, passing megumi's, he frowned when you stumbled, almost looking as though you had attempted to retreat in fear.

"what just happened?" the director's voice called out through the megaphone again.

you furrowed your brows and squinted your eyes. megumi held back a scowl. what the hell were you up to now?

you eventually answered the question, but only after you'd become comfortable at the centre of the stage again, nodding to yourself with a smile.

"ah, sorry," you said, meeting her stern gaze sheepishly. "the outline of megumi's head just scared me for a second —"

the scowl that he'd been trying his hardest to hold back had been released, and it only deepened at the sound of the people backstage — your foolish classmates — laughing along.

there was nothing funny about that, and if he chose to tell all of them about your mermaid fiasco several years ago, you wouldn't find it funny then.

he sunk in his seat, throwing you a glare you probably couldn't see very well seeing as the rest of the auditorium was dark; the only lights being shun were the ones on the stage.

"if she wasn't my best lead, i would've kicked her out by now," the director whispered, only, it had been (accidentally) spoken with the megaphone on.

she quickly turned it off, but it had been too late: you'd already heard it.

your lips parted slightly, eyebrows raised in mild offense, but the glimmer in your eyes betrayed a certain smugness. you glanced briefly at the director with mock indignation, a hand coming to rest on your hip as if you were about to deliver a snarky comeback, but instead, you simply shook your head and turned back to your script, a faint, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

megumi watched this unfold, his expression still maintaining that bitter scowl.

while the comment seemed to have both bruised and inflated your ego, he wasn't surprised. you'd always had this uncanny ability to balance between taking yourself seriously and not at all. best lead, he thought dryly, watching with half lidded eyes as you delivered your next few lines correctly. if only she knew how many times he'd seen you trip over thin air or forget half your lines in the name of a 'creative process'. still, he begrudgingly admitted to himself that, onstage, you were captivating — even if it happened to be for the wrong reasons half the time.

as the rehearsal wound down, you and your peers began packing up on stage. megumi used his phone to check the time.

it was time to go home.

scripts were gathered and props carefully returned to their designated spots by the crew. the faint creak of the stageboards accompanied the bustle, with one of your classmates complaining about how she couldn't find her missing pencil while another laughed at something whispered behind the curtains.

you slipped off your flower crown, adjusting it absentmindedly before tossing it onto a nearby prop table, and joined the group tidying up. the director had long since stopped barking orders and now stood by the edge of the stage, chatting with one of the seniors about next week's rehearsal schedule.

megumi stood from his seat with a quiet sigh, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he made his way towards the backstage area, but not without stopping to throw the annoying person at the back row with the noisy chair a glance.

the person was now standing, but the automatic chair had slammed itself shut, allowing that loud noise to carry itself around the hall.

megumi had made his way towards the wall by the side curtain, his nose scrunched at the person — their silhouette showing that it was a guy around the same height as himself.

he had left the hall abruptly as megumi leaned against the wall, waiting for you to finish up, his gaze idly tracking your movements.

you turned around and jumped.

"ah, porcupine!" you gasped, unclipping your bracelets absentmindedly. "you need to announce your arrival, you scared m—"

"shut up, mermaid," he snapped, his patience running thin.

your lips pressed themselves into a tight line, eyes narrowing as you straightened your posture and clenched your jaw, willing yourself to keep your composure, though the sharpness in your movements — tossing your bracelets into the props table with more force than necessary —betrayed your irritation.

"i'm gonna call security on you," you threatened him, the corner of your mouth twitching as if you were fighting the urge to scowl outright, but instead, you busied yourself with adjusting your hair. the flower crown had messed the top of it.

"why are you tapping your head like that?" he questioned, not even entertaining the empty threat you'd shot at him.

"'cause if i'm not careful, i'll end up looking like a punk," you answered, before intentionally eyeing his dishevelled, fluffy hair. you met his sharpened gaze with a look of faux remorse. "yikes."

there was a glint of something dangerous in his eyes as he watched you try to unclip the necklace hanging delicately on your collarbone — a warning, sharp and unspoken, that clearly said: watch it.

"turn around," he grumbled, when it became apparent that it was going to take a while for you to finally manage taking the ugly necklace off.

you complied without much protest. however, that didn't mean that you did so silently:

"could be nicer about i— ow, porcupine! it's got my hair, it's got my hair!"

"stop moving," megumi demanded, messily throwing your hair over your shoulder to your front. he grunted under his breath when you continued to struggle against him. "squirming like a mermaid —"

your reaction was immediate, bristling with indignation as your head snapped around to glare at him, though the position made it awkward. if he wasn't fiddling with the clasp at the base of your neck, you might've been tempted to swat at his hands, but instead, you turned your focus forward, muttering something unintelligible under your breath that was undoubtedly not complimentary.

you flinched when he had finally managed to successfully unclip the necklace, but only when it continued to tug at the hairs at the back of your neck.

"porcupine — ow! oh my g— stop!" you complained, your eyes watering and knees bending as megumi tugged at the necklace again.

"how else am i supposed to take it off?" he shot back, grumpy.

"i'mgonnaendupinahospitalbedlikeallthoseyearsagoandnearlydie—"

"you never nearly died," said megumi, emphasising his point by cruelly pulling the necklace down again. you had stumbled back into him, but he remained stagnant where he stood, brows furrowed in both annoyance and deep concentration. "don't be stupid."

"ouch! you're doing it on purpose now, you — porcu—"

"right, who is porcupine?" the director's voice cut through the air like a whip, sharp and demanding attention.

the two of you looked up abruptly: she was standing before you, arms raised (and brows furrowed) in confusion.

deadpanned, you shot megumi a quick glance before addressing her.

"... is it really that hard to guess, looking between the two of us?"

at that, megumi had harshly pulled the necklace, taking some of your hair with it.

you squeaked, your hand immediately going up to ease the pain as you spun around and stared at his hand, the necklace holding bits of your hair cut fresh from the top of your neck.

"..."

"..."

"... okay, what is going on here?" the director asked, her eyes following the prop as megumi casually threw it over your head and onto the table behind you.

megumi barely had time to blink after that before you lunged at him, your hands diving into his hair with startling precision.

you yanked back with just enough force to rip out a few strands, his grunt of annoyance and pain echoing around the hall as the director stood frozen, her expression caught somewhere between bewildered disbelief and an exasperated sigh, as though contemplating whether this entire exchange was even worth addressing.

"right, y/n —"

"now we're even!" you snapped, as though the woman beside you hadn't spoken at all. you presented the dark hairs to megumi, and then purposefully made him watch as you slowly pocketed them, taking your sweet time and relishing in the crease between his brows that continued to deepen the longer you drew it out.

"you're a weirdo," he stated icily, but you turned away, paying him no mind.

"keep talking and i'm gonna get nobara's voodoo doll."

the two of you exited the auditorium together, the air practically vibrating with the quiet reluctance of megumi's brooding presence beside you.

he strode with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, meanwhile, you walked with an air of triumph, your fingers slipping into your own pocket every so often to toy with the strands of his hair, a small grin tugging at your lips every time you caught the subtle crackle of his growing irritation.

he deserved it.

"what did you think of rehearsal?" you asked him curiously. "lady macbeth's lines are so funny —"

"they're not funny," megumi disagreed bluntly. he sounded genuine. "you're just immature."

you showed him the strands of his hair that you'd passionately held onto in your pocket.

"say that again," you challenged, brows raised.

he merely swatted your wrist away with a scowl; you pocketed his hair with a shrug.

"as i was saying," you continued, as the two of you exited the school, "the macbeth play isn't gonna have a proper audience anyway, so i'm not too fussed about perfecting lady macbeth's lines. it's gonna be recorded tho! what did you think of it so far?"

megumi narrowed his eyes, the sun peeking out from over the clouds bright enough to blind him momentarily.

"couldn't even hear anything 'cause of the idiot sitting at the back," he told you with a scowl.

you laughed, brows raised in intrigue.

"yeah, they've been here for the past week or so," you informed your friend, chuckling at his sour expression.

"why don't you kick him out?"

"if we were to kick out every single disturbance, you would be sitting outside every day, porcupine."

"i'm not a disturbance."

"your hair is though."

"shut up."

as you neared the bike rack, you spotted yuji and nobara waiting for the two of you by their respective bikes.

yuji's was unmistakably bright — an electric blue frame with neon green accents that megumi thought perfectly screamed his excitable personality, complete with a flashy bell he had been spinning absentmindedly. nobara's, in contrast, was a sleek, matte-black with a subtle crimson stripe running along the frame. as the two of them looked up at your approach, yuji tilted his head with a toothy grin, arm raised in the air, already waving.

megumi believed that your bike stood out against the others, its pastel yellow frame and front basket adorned with a bunch of small, faux daisies that gave it a cheerful, almost whimsical vibe.

he approached his own as the three of you jumped into conversation with one another.

megumi's bike, dark navy and utterly plain, had been parked beside yours — you never failed to remind him how it looked like a sullen counterpart. he didn't care: it was his bike after all, not yours.

"my parents are working late again," yuji added brightly. he was sitting on his bike, waiting for the rest of you to clip on your helmets and do the same. "grandpa's home, and choso's at his place, so we basically have the house to ourselves tonight."

you silently nodded, hanging your bag on the right handlebar.

megumi scowled at nobara, who had seated herself on her bike, discarding her phone in her bag and zipping it up without another word.

"put your helmet on," he demanded her.

she looked up at him with a stony expression, her lips set in a straight line and brows furrowed as though to say 'are you talking to me?'.

"i'm having a bad hair day today —"

yuji frowned, looking bewildered:

"— but your hair looks nice —"

"shut up," snapped nobara, continuing as though you had not laughed loudly at the falter in yuji's bemused smile. you swerved away from his leg when he extended it to kick at your bike. "i'm not gonna make it worse by putting on that helmet."

megumi did not look impressed by her answer, throwing one of his legs over his bike to sit down and unclip his own helmet, glaring at her all the while.

"you're turning into the mermaid —"

"what the hell?" you demanded angrily, gesturing to your own helmet, which was conveniently sitting on your head. "i'm wearing mine!"

megumi's face tightened, jaw tensed as though he were biting back a sharp retort. one hand gripped the handlebar of his bike firmly, while the other toyed with the edge of his helmet, spinning it idly in a way that betrayed his rising frustration.

"i know why you're hesitating to wear yours," you shot back, offended by his jab at you, unprovoked. "it'll flatten down your sea-urchin hair and make you look like your dad —"

"watch it," he warned you icily, a short, clipped exhale leaving his nose as he glanced between you and nobara, his expression a mix of exasperation and resignation, like he'd just resigned to a battle he never wanted to fight in the first place.

the sky stretched above in a pale canvas of soft blues and muted golds, the sun dipping lazily towards the horizon, its warm light spilling across the school front in delicate, golden hues. the four of you had mounted your bikes and had already begun cycling down the road, away from the busy bus route yuji would usually take and down the quiet neighbourhood, away from the loud traffic lights.

wisps of cotton-like clouds floated idly, their edges tinged with blush and amber as the day prepared to give way to the evening the longer the four of you bickered and laughed, simultaneously being wary of the occasional car that would pass by every now and then. the faint rustle of leaves stirred by the gentle breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it the crisp, earthy scent of early autumn. your shadows stretched long across the crosswalk, mingling with the sporadic glint of sunlight reflecting off the polished metal frames of your bikes.

"grandpa went to the store the other day," yuji loudly spoke. he was riding his bike beside you while megumi and nobara cycled just ahead. "he bought a bunch of new films for us! we can watch the nun tonight!"

"is it wise to watch a horror movie at your place?" nobara called out, her hair a lighter shade where the sun hit it.

yuji looked bewildered at her question. "but we always watch horror movies at my place..."

"no, she's right!" you added, eyes wide. "what if we accidentally trigger the s word somehow?"

yuji's expression shifted almost comically as the realisation dawned on him, his brows furrowing in confusion before lifting in sudden clarity. he sat upright on his bike, one hand tightening on the handlebars as if steadying himself, while his other hand shot up to nervously scratch the back of his head.

"oi, use both hands," megumi demanded from up front.

yuji silently complied, though his eyes remained glued on you.

"sukuna won't —"

"don't say his name," you hissed, brows furrowed in both anger and panic.

yuji's wide-eyed expression stayed constant as the conversation continued.

"wait, it should be fine, guys," nobara had intervened, one hand holding onto her bike while the other extended itself towards the brooding, dark-haired male cycling beside her. "we have megumi — he's great at protecting us!"

megumi shot her a sharp look as he swatted her hand away. apparently, he did not agree with this idea.

"remember when he pushed su—"

"nobara!"

"— the s word away from us when he said he'd rip our hair out and use them as handcuffs?" she continued, as you cycled behind her with a wariness only the demon could bring out of you. "he comes up with the most creative threats, y'know. sometimes i'm a little impressed, but my hair's too short for handcuffs —"

"he wanted us bald," you reminded her helpfully, "so that means ripping your hair from the roots, which is long enough for handcuffs, paired with mine, too."

"that's irrelevant," said megumi, his hair standing up as the four of you cycled through the breeze. you imagined him looking rather silly from the front, seeing as the back was serving enough laughs out of both you and yuji. "and i can't do much today anyway. after the movie, i have to look over sharmin and miwa's history homework."

you frowned at the back of his head.

"you're doing their homework?" you asked, sounding offended.

"they asked me to look over it before practice today," megumi answered calmly, "but i didn't have time, so i said i'd do it later today and give it back to them tomorrow."

that did not sit right with you, not when megumi always refused to do your homework whenever you asked.

you pedalled faster and slipped in between megumi and nobara, shooting him a look of disapproval.

"any time i ask you to do my homework, you refuse," you told him with a raised brow.

"same goes for them," megumi responded, throwing nobara (who was now behind the two of you) and yuji both a look a warning glance for arguing over nothing loudly. "i'm not doing their homework. i'm looking over it."

you shrugged. "yeah that's what i ask you to do, too."

"no you don't."

"yes i do!"

"you don't."

"i do!"

"you don't," megumi snapped, his patience thin. "you lie about being sick and try to guilt trip me into it —"

"accusations!" you gasped, lifting one hand to point at him dramatically. "false accusations!"

you'd nearly lost your balance on your bike due to how quickly you had sat up and let go of the handlebars. megumi, once again, extended his own arm and directed your bike properly again, but not without clicking his tongue at you in distaste.

"y/n!" nobara called for you from behind.

you looked over your shoulder and then regretted it when megumi flicked your forehead in warning. you turned back around abruptly, narrowing your eyes at him as they watered.

he didn't have to do it so hard, you thought to yourself grumpily.

"nobara, i can't look at you 'cause of the bike police over here —"

"shut up."

despite megumi's harsh criticism, nobara had continued to talk anyway.

"yuji's hair is nothing like miwa's, right?" she said, and you did not have to look back to be aware of yuji's frown of both annoyance and disappointment. "his is like a dull pink —"

yuji did not like that. "hey!"

"miwa's looks better," you responded easily. it hadn't been a difficult decision after all: you remembered the day miwa had walked past the school doors with the long, blue hair that ran past her shoulders and spine. "the blue suits her! and the bangs too!"

"told you," you heard nobara's smug voice add.

"it also matches her eyes," you commented with a smile. "you can't say the same, yuji."

"wha— megumi!" yuji shouted desperately. "help me out!"

you glanced over at megumi's face. he seemed indifferent, as always, but his response had said otherwise.

he had shrugged, relaxed. "they're right."

yuji's wail of misery only had the three of you threatening to leave him behind. he had sulked for a bit, but eventually joined in on the next set of conversations you found yourself immersed in for a portion of the remainder of the journey.

the sun hung low on the horizon, its amber glow spilling across the quiet neighborhood like molten gold. the bungalows stood neatly in rows, their silhouettes softened by the warm, fading light, and the occasional flicker of a porch light hinted at the coming dusk, while the air seemed to grow still, as though welcoming the four of you to yuji's neighbourhood again.

"you can't do it," you told yuji, who had been adamant in showing all of you a trick that choso had taught him on his bike the other day. you threw him a look of disbelief from over your shoulder.

your bike had swerved unexpectedly, and when you turned back around to regain control, you noted that it was megumi, who had his hand on the front of your bike, apparently saving you from having ridden over a large rock in the middle of the road.

"i can!" yuji protested, riding past both you and megumi to keep up with nobara, who had long since ridden ahead. "just watch!"

"don't do it, you idiot," megumi chided, glaring at the back of yuji's pink head.

"but —"

megumi cut across him harshly. "you're gonna fall."

"i won't!" yuji shouted back, eyes wide with exhilaration. "i've done it a hundred times already! just look!"

yuji surged forwards on his bike, his grin brimming with confidence as he positioned himself to attempt the trick. he shifted his weight back, tugging up on the handlebars with a flourish to lift the front wheel off the ground.

for a brief, fleeting moment, the bike wobbled in perfect balance, his exhilarated laughter ringing out in triumph.

but then the balance tipped — too far back — and the wheel slammed down awkwardly.

yuji, unable to steady himself, tumbled sideways onto the road with a loud thud, his limbs sprawling across the sidewalk. his bike clattered noisily beside him, the bell letting out an inadvertent chime as it hit the ground.

the three of you stopped, a beat of stunned silence passing before laughter broke out simultaneously: nobara had doubled over her handlebars, wheezing as she clutched her side, while you clapped a hand over your mouth, struggling to stifle your snickers. even megumi's usual stoic expression cracked slightly, his lips twitching as he muttered something under his breath and shook his head.

yuji groaned dramatically, sprawled out on the concrete road like a tragic hero, but none of you made a move to help him, not even when he asked.

"guys..." he called out weakly, face scrunched in pain. he extended his arm shakily, eyes half-lidded. "help..."

you shot a glance at nobara, holding your breath to try and stop yourself from snorting out another round of laughs, before turning your bike around and cycling away.

"just go, leave him," you hurriedly told her, your legs working quickly on the pedals of your bike.

yuji lifted his head.

she did not hesitate in following suit.

"we warned you!" she called out with a wide grin.

megumi had not said a word as he, too, seemed to agree with the both of you, his feet pressing down on the pedals a little faster.

"go, don't look back," you muttered, kicking off your bikes to continue cycling down the road.

you laughed merrily as his calls of protest grew faint the further you rode away, leaving him to flail on the ground, loudly lamenting his fate.

but of course, you weren't evil — perhaps nobara was, though — for you and megumi had turned on your bikes to get him, and she had been the only one who let out a groan of exhaustion at the mere thought of it.

but the funniest part wasn't the way you'd found yuji lying on the road in the exact same way you'd left him, nor was it the way his eyes had lightened up at the sight of you...

it was how he had remained firm on giving you all the silent treatment the rest of the way to his house, and how he had been struggling to do so, for if anyone was an expert, qualified chatter, it was yuji itadori.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the football field stretched wide under the fading light, its green expanse marked with crisp white lines that gleamed faintly in the late afternoon. you were standing on the bench at the front row, watching the football players dart across the field.

it was jujutsu high's open game for the football team, which (by the school's definition) was a practice session open for the general school public to attend.

your eyes followed the ball as it sailed through the air, a blur of motion intercepted by a leaping player — chad, you noticed with raised brows, as the whistle from coach yaga encouraged the rest of the team to push forward.

your eyes had scoured the players in search of your friends. you couldn't exactly tell who was who because of the uniform and helmet that would conceal both their bodies and their faces, so you could only rely on their player numbers displayed on both the fronts and backs of their jerseys.

player number one — who was currently sprinting alongside massive player number six — was yuji. you never bothered him when he concentrated on the game. you usually saved the disturbance for when he'd done something to piss you off (like intentionally telling your spanish teacher that you deleted duolingo off your phone to spare some storage).

player number two was who you were really looking for, and it only brought a smile to your face when you'd found him — megumi — sprinting the other way.

"you're going the wrong way, megumi!" you helpfully reminded him.

he ignored you, as per usual. but you noticed, with triumph, how his legs had started to slow down.

beneath his helmet, you were certain he was gritting his teeth.

"the ball's that's way!" you called out, one hand cupping the side of your mouth, the other benevolently pointing at player number eight, who was now in possession of the ball. "what are you doing?"

megumi had approached coach yaga, and from where you were stood, accompanied by the chatter of the other onlookers, you could not hear what was being exchanged between the two. the sharp glare that coach yaga had shot you was a lot to go by, however, not that you cared.

you hadn't cared in middle school, you wouldn't care now.

yaga knew that very well.

megumi turned away and had begun jogging towards his teammates again. you shook your head, your foot tapping the metal of the bench impatiently.

"well it's too late for that now!" you told him, tutting in disapproval. "they've gone and scored without you! oh — hi toge!"

player number six, todo, was a towering presence, and you watched as he charged across the field with the ball tucked firmly under his arm, shrugging off attempted tackles like they were nothing more than minor inconveniences. close behind, yuji darted around the defence with his usual agility, his movements quick and unpredictable, drawing shouts of encouragement from somewhere behind you, because — right, that was a thing now — he had gained quite a few admirers over the last week, not that he had been aware of it. the only reason you knew was because of an occasion last week where you and nobara had camped inside a singular stall in the girls' toilets, overhearing a conversation between a few sophomores and juniors.

megumi was now in possession of the ball, and though he wasn't as speedy as yuji, he excelled in the game by being strategic, which compensated for the lack of agility.

he's doing well, you thought to yourself. it was too bad you enjoyed poking fun at him.

you exaggeratedly waved both arms in the air as if directing imaginary traffic, calling out random, unhelpful advice about the game. his head had turned for a fraction of a second, and that had been enough to encourage you to go further.

"quick! the small one's behind you!" you called out, your expression grave. you chuckled when he actually looked over his shoulder. "haha! made you look —"

"— l/n!"

your eyes travelled across the field to meet yaga's, shielded by his sunglasses. he didn't look pleased in the slightest, but he hadn't said anything else when you stared back at him.

your name was his first warning.

you shrugged and turned back to the game, mimicking a referee's whistle sound — poorly, of course — just to see if it would make megumi glance your way again.

it didn't, but you had not missed the way he'd quickened his steps, an act to try and free himself from being forced to listen to your constant shouts and yells.

"megumi! spell red!" you called out to him, your hands cupping your mouth. he turned around and narrowed his eyes at you, a menacing glint circling in each of his irises. "no? okay, i'll do it for you! L — S — T — E — R —"

the field erupted with laughter.

number six, todo, was the first to lose it, nearly doubling over as he slapped his thigh, while yuji could barely stay upright, clutching his sides and wheezing between gasps of air. the entire team seemed to pause, their focus on the game completely derailed, as they recalled the viral meme and the ridiculousness of your performance.

yaga, however, was not amused. he blew his whistle sharply, barking at the players to get back into formation, his forehead veins looking like they might burst at any second.

"keep laughing, and you'll all be running laps until the sun sets!" he roared, but his threats only managed to stifle the laughter into barely concealed snickers. "and you — stop opening that damned mouth of yours!"

meanwhile, megumi shot you a glare so venomous, it could have melted steel. his fists clenched at his sides, and you could see the subtle rise and fall of his shoulders as he tried to rein in his irritation.

"stop," he snapped, his voice dripping with exasperation.

"all right, all right," you sighed, before cupping your mouth again. "spell megumi! T — O — J — Y!"

megumi stood in the centre of the grassy field, arms by his sides, like a child refusing to comply to rules. you could see the way his jaw had clenched at your joke.

he had always had this incessant need to be right. to correct you when you were wrong. to show off his brilliance.

you could see him fighting a losing battle.

"that's not how you spell my dad's name —" he'd started angrily, but the sound of yaga's whistle had cut through anything you had wanted to say in response.

"IS THIS THE SPELLING BEE?" he demanded, irate. "fushiguro!" he'd all but bellowed, teeth gritted. "why are your legs not moving?"

megumi turned to face his teacher.

"she spelled my dad's name wrong —"

"IS YOUR DAD HERE TO BEAR WITNESS?"

"..."

"GET BACK TO YOUR TEAMMATES!"

megumi had made a move to leave, but at the sound of your snickers, he stopped, lifting his arm and pointing it in your direction.

"kick her out," he'd said — correction: demanded — without hesitation.

your mouth fell open in sheer disbelief, arms extended outwards in confusion as you glared at megumi like he'd just committed the ultimate betrayal.

kick you out? the audacity, you mentally marvelled.

you weren't even on the field, which you could've easily invaded if you had wanted to. you were merely offering a bit of moral support (albeit in your own unique, slightly chaotic way).

"that's a breach of my human rights," you alerted both your teacher and your friend. then, you shifted your attention to only coach yaga. "he's not even participating! personally, i think he should be benched!"

"l/n, sit down and SHUT UP!"

"no, seriously!" you insisted, crouching down to untie your shoelaces. "i can replace him on the field!"

megumi turned around again to face you this time. even though his helmet made it hard to see his face properly, you could see the way he'd narrowed his eyes at you. "you don't even know how to play properly —"

"well i'd do a hell of a lot better than what you're doing," you told him, standing up again and folding your arms over your chest. "which is nothing, by the way."

coach yaga had had enough:

"FUSHIGURO, STOP ENGAGING WITH HER AND MOVE UP THE FIELD!"

megumi faced the angry man with, no doubt, a glare of his own. "she's —"

"NOW!" yaga had bellowed, and you could only laugh at the way megumi's fists had clenched, but he'd obediently ran towards the other players (not without shooting you a glower, though).

you chuckled at his reaction, but choked on it when coach yaga had mercilessly turned to you next.

"SIT. DOWN. L/N," he ordered you, the hand holding the whistle lined with angry veins threatening to pop. you could see one on his forehead, too.

you opened your mouth to oppose, but he'd blown his whistle so you couldn't even hear yourself speak.

and this had become a recurring theme.

any time your lips would part — whether to cheer for a play, yell sarcastic advice at megumi, or protest yaga's increasingly dictatorial tone — the sharp, ear-piercing sound of his whistle cut through the air, drowning you out completely. he'd positioned himself nearby, whistle ready at his lips, as though waiting for the exact moment you dared to utter a sound.

you even tried whispering once, only for him to blow it louder than ever, causing you to flinch and clutch your ears.

the message was clear: coach yaga would not tolerate your antics.

but his overzealous whistle-blowing had unintended consequences, ones that had you giggling into your hands.

the players, accustomed to the whistle being a signal for key game instructions, had begun growing confused by the constant interruptions. at one point, both kamo and logan parker hesitated mid-play, unsure whether the sharp whistle had been meant to signal an offside or something else entirely, and this had led to an awkward collision on the field — logal tripping over kamo as the latter tried to pivot too late — and the two of them ended up sprawled in a tangled heap.

and yaga, visibly frustrated by both the situation at hand and the rhythm of your constant laughter, had no choice but to bench them both, muttering something about how some people were ruining his practice.

"your hair's a mess," you told kamo, when he'd approached the bench you were standing on with his helmet beneath his arm.

"thanks, didn't notice," he responded, blowing the loose strands of his hair out of his face.

you eyed him carefully as he sat by your feet, his knees an angry shade of red where he'd fallen due to the collision.

"does that hurt?" you asked, frowning. "you could sue yaga for blowing his whistle and causing confusion."

kamo peered up at you, his elbows resting on his thighs, his back hunched over in such a way that chiropractors would be disappointed by. you couldn't quite paint what he was thinking, for his face, so devoid of any and all emotion, made it so that his lips were set in a straight line and his eyes would remain half-lidded.

"you can!" you continued, as though he'd voiced his uncertainty to you. "and you can show your knees for proof!"

kamo kept his gaze fixed on the game, following the flow of plays that unfolded without him. you couldn't quite paint what he was feeling in that moment, for his expression was a mix of irritation and fatigue as he lazily tossed his helmet to the ground with a dull clatter.

"i'll remember to bring in a formal complaint tomorrow, then," he added, his eyes following player number five, who was in possession of the ball.

"i'll be your backup!" you told him enthusiastically. when he peered up at you, expectant, you clarified yourself. "y'know, for moral support."

"hold my hand and everything?"

you grinned. "all right, don't get ahead of yourself now."

"my bad," he said, bringing a hand up to brush the stray hairs out of his face. his dark hair had been tied back with a flimsy rubber-band into a low, loose bun, which apparently proved worthless in a rough game of football.

at the centre of the field, andre johnson clapped his hands loudly, rallying the players into position as he directed the next play with precision. toge stood further back, his sharp eyes scanning the field, ready to intercept, while todo, living up to his reputation, plowed through the defence like a battering ram, drawing cheers from his teammates.

you felt bad for the players that had ended up on the floor because of his onslaught of attacks.

one of them just so happened to be yuji.

and as you jested loudly at his limp body, todo stared back at him, horrified:

"BROTHER —"

"ooh..." you marvelled, standing on your tip-toes as todo ignored the game altogether and charged the other way. everyone except for megumi had moved out of the way. "might wanna put that one on a leash..."

your eyes had darted from the game to kamo, and back again.

"no offence, kamotionless..."

"none taken."

the two of you watched as megumi extended his hand to your pink-haired, groaning friend on the floor, intrigued as he accepted his help in pulling himself up.

both their heads had turned to face you.

yuji's lips parted in a comical frown, his hand clutching his lower back as he turned to glare at you with all the indignation he could muster. you could only chuckle at him, for his pink hair was dusted with grass and dirt from the collision, and his expression screamed betrayal.

raising one hand, he offered you an exaggerated thumbs-down, shaking it slowly as though to emphasise just how unimpressed he was.

you stared back at him, brow raised as you placed a pointer finger on your chest, mouthing 'me?'.

his exaggerated nod made you scowl at him and look at megumi instead, but his stare wasn't any better, for it had lingered on you longer than necessary: his sharp eyes had darkened as they subtly drifted downwards, his expression tightening ever so slightly, though it was hard to tell if it was irritation or something else entirely.

he was still pissed at your interruption of the game from earlier, clearly, for his stance had been tinged with quiet discontent, as though he'd seen something he didn't quite like.

rude, you thought to yourself, i stopped yelling at him and i'm likeable.

whatever it was, he said nothing, his eyes snapping back to the field with a stoicism that betrayed nothing outwardly.

across the field, yaga's voice thundered over the chaos.

"ITADORI! FUSHIGURO! get back to your positions — NOW!"

yuji jumped slightly at the sheer force of his command, but megumi had barely looked fazed, as though this was a common occurrence during practice.

yuji shot one last mournful look in your direction before jogging into place, his steps a little heavier than before. megumi, on the other hand, walked briskly back into formation, his gaze focused ahead, though the rigid set of his shoulders suggested he wasn't entirely composed. yaga's glare followed them both until they were back in line, his frustration simmering visibly as he blew his whistle to resume the play.

"what's the history with you and coach yaga?" kamo had asked, which had greatly surprised, your brows raised as you stared down at him. he took your silence as a sign to continue. "yuji said you met coach yaga in middle school."

"oh my god," you beamed, hopping off the bench to sit down on it. "i'm so glad you asked!"

you dug into your pocket and retrieved your phone, tapping on it excitedly to pull up the set of images in your camera roll that you'd visit so often, it would never catch dust.

the academic years of twenty-fourteen to twenty-sixteen.

"so i met him in the sixth grade," you explained, selecting an image of him from the time you had unexpectedly pulled your phone out in the middle of the corridor and snapped a headshot. "that's what he looked like back then, so, not that different. still got that weird spiky hairstyle, except it's longer now, but you get the idea."

kamo nodded, his front leaning forward to get a good look at your phone.

"he's angry," he commented idly.

"er... yeah," you confirmed, hesitant. you slowly swiped to the next photo — yaga's realisation of the image being taken. "that's 'cause i took his photo in the middle of the hallway, so..." you shook your head quickly. "but anyway! i met him during our first middle school p.e class. we were playing dodgeball and i was standing at the back to support yuji, even though we'd just met through megumi, but if megumi liked him, then i knew he was good. and then yaga just got mad at me."

kamo watched as you showed him another picture of an angry coach yaga.

"and it was a whole thing," you settled on saying at last. "rest of our time during middle school went by with a theme of pissing yaga off. it's tradition now."

kamo raised a brow, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in mild amusement as he listened.

"sounds like you've had a pretty clear mission since day one," he said, his tone dry but his gaze alight with curiosity. he tilted his head slightly as he regarded the photo on your screen, his hand brushing back a loose strand of hair as he continued. "coach only ever turns red when you're around."

there was no judgment in his voice, just a quiet humour that seemed to match the slight, crooked smile now playing on his face.

without a word, kamo shifted subtly closer to you, leaning in as though to get a better look at the next photo. his arm rested lightly on the bench beside you, and while the movement was casual, the reduced space between you both went unnoticed — or perhaps, just unacknowledged.

you didn't seem to mind at all, and the easy flow of your conversation remained uninterrupted. if anything, the proximity only added to the comfortable rhythm of your storytelling:

"there's actually a legacy," you grinned, swiping several times to get to a particular image. "you know s— mr gojo, miss ieiri, mr nanami, and mr haibara were yaga's students back when they were in school?"

kamo didn't say anything at that. some part of you couldn't blame him, especially when you would constantly spew out nonsense that megumi would immediately shut down in front of everyone.

if you weren't you, you probably wouldn't have believed yourself either.

"at least try to look like you believe me," you scowled.

"no, i do," kamo insisted, though not very convincingly.

"no you don't."

"yeah i don't."

"okay, well, now you will," you stated, showing him the photo you'd been searching for in your packed camera roll.

it was yaga's wedding in january of two-thousand-and-six. you had chosen this particular photo because of the scene in the background: the men you knew dressed sharply in suits and ties, and the women you knew also elegantly adorned in dresses and heels.

"he's married?" kamo asked, looking genuinely surprised. it was the only time you had seen any form of emotion cross his face.

"was married," you corrected him, and then laughed as you zoomed in on his face. "got divorced years ago — look, he's bald!"

as you and kamo continued discussing yaga's wedding, the conversation spiralled into unexpected detail. you pointed out the floral arrangements in the background, commenting on how they looked oddly mismatched with the formal attire of the guests. kamo had raised an eyebrow, countering that maybe yaga had bad taste in decorators. from there, the discussion veered into an animated debate over who had possibly caught the bouquet, with you insisting it was nanami and kamo scoffing at the idea of him even participating.

but just as kamo parted his lips to counter your next argument, yaga's unmistakable voice had cut through the air.

"LOVEBIRDS!" he'd roared, the two of you looking up simultaneously towards the field where yaga stood, hands on his hips, thoroughly exasperated. "FOCUS ON THE GAME, OR LEAVE!"

you pocketed your phone again, glaring at yaga like he'd personally offended you on a cosmic level.

"he's just salty we have luscious hair," you muttered under your breath bitterly. the fact that the entire field had fallen silent didn't deter you from adding more in the slightest. "got a lot of nerve for someone with a wedding album collecting dust..."

unbeknownst to you, chad smirked knowingly, glancing towards kamo with an exaggeratedly teasing expression, waggling his eyebrows as if he'd just uncovered the secret of the universe. kamo, predictably, ignored him entirely, his focus unshaken.

meanwhile, megumi's reaction had been far sharper.

his eyes darted between you and kamo before settling firmly on you, his brow furrowing so deeply it looked like he was judging you for a crime against humanity. his glare lingered, sharp and unyielding, like you'd just desecrated something sacred — which, knowing megumi, might've been the concept of behaving during practice.

"just get him back on the field," he stated firmly, shooting coach yaga a glare.

"kid's right," said yaga, before blowing his whistle again. "KAMO, PARKER — BOTH OF YOU — BACK ON THE FIELD!"

obediently, kamo rose to his feet, brushing off his knees before bending down and retrieving his discarded helmet, and then giving a short, wordless nod to logan parker, who had been waiting nearby.

from the sidelines, yaga's gaze immediately zeroed in on you.

"AND YOU!" he barked, pointing a commanding finger. "stop distracting my players! you've got five seconds to zip it, or you're out of here!" his voice had carried across the field with the same force as his whistle.

you frowned deeply. his reaction felt like an overreaction to you — typical yaga behavior.

but then, the realisation hit you like a sudden spotlight. you glanced at your watch and felt a jolt of panic. you were supposed to stay for only a bit before heading to rehearsal.

"ah, shit! i'm late for rehearsal!" you panicked, hurriedly grabbing your bag and scrambling to leave. the theatre director was definitely not going to forgive you for being late again, especially with the lead role hanging in the balance.

as you ran across the benches, you looked over your shoulder, ignoring the crowd and team laughing at you.

"lady yaga, this is all your fault by the way!"

as you darted towards the building, the teasing chants from the football team had started fading behind you. despite the growing distance between you and them, you could hear yaga cursing you from where he stood, as though he were right next to you.

you were not, however, aware of the two pairs of eyes watching you retreat, one of them mildly amused, the other beyond annoyed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

the cracked pavement beneath satoru's feet echoed faintly as he strolled through the unfamiliar neighbourhood.

during a conversation about toji's dark past, he had showed off to the family about never having stolen anything, as well as never being stolen from, which only resulted in ogi demanding that he walk in a sketchier neighbourhood and see if he could come back saying the same thing.

and he had been confident, of course, as he looked around at the graffiti-covered walls and flickering streetlights, which might have seemed intimidating to anyone else, but he remained blissfully unfazed, humming a tune under his breath.

in one hand, he'd held a slightly squished cupcake, the frosting a little smeared but no less delightful to him. his sunglasses perched jauntily on his nose, and his long strides carried him through the shadows as though the neighbourhood itself were lucky to have him gracing its streets.

...

that had been before he'd found himself trapped in a phone-box, the gang that had caused his sealing surrounding the box in awe.

'we seriously stole the gojo guy's money?'

'aw heck yeah! he's filthy rich, too!'

'look at that sleek, black card!'

'awesome! his phone's the new model as well!'

satoru stared at the gang leader, scowling.

his balaclava had fallen when satoru had thrown a punch at him earlier, exposing his tattooed face, the dark line that crossed his nose and the thin arrowed lines that went down his eyes.

satoru thought he looked silly with those pigtails.

"how much are those glasses?" the leader had asked, throwing his balaclava over his shoulder for one of his minions to scramble for.

satoru, his neck bent in an attempt to not bump his head, flashed him a grin.

"more than you can afford."

the guy gritted his teeth at him. satoru felt satisfaction bloom in his chest at that, but he noted how the tattooed male could be no older than seventeen or eighteen. what the hell was he doing as a leader of a gang?

"but you should probably open the door to try and get them," satoru suggested, bending down a little to meet the kid's face.

"i'm not stupid," the kid scowled. he was bagging all of satoru's expensive belongings right in front of him.

"if you were smart, you wouldn't style your hair like a five year old girl."

"if you were smart, you would dye your hair."

satoru scowled at him. "if you continued your education, you wouldn't need to join a gang for money."

the kid didn't look too pleased with satoru's rapid riposte, for he looked around at his minions, slinging the bag of satoru's possessions over his shoulder, and turning away with a raised brow.

"come and get your stuff," he had challenged the trapped, white-haired male, who could only watch in anger as one of the minions marvelled at his stolen cupcake.

his cupcake.

satoru let out an exaggerated groan, his head lightly thudding against the very top of the glass wall of the phone box as he tilted his chin to the ceiling (that happened to be so very close to his face).

this was beyond annoying; his cupcake was gone, his wallet and phone stolen, and now he was cramped into this tiny, outdated relic of communication...

but then, a flicker of excitement sparked across his face, the edges of his mouth curling upwards.

out of all the traps he could've been stuck in, it had to be a phone box. how retro. how tragically iconic.

with a sigh, he tapped the dusty dial pad, punching in one of the numbers he knew by heart: shoko's.

the faint hum of the dial tone filled the tiny space as he leaned back, arms crossed, waiting with a fading grin to hear her undoubtedly sarcastic greeting.

but it had been taking a while.

"this is such a pain," he grumbled to himself, annoyed.

and then looked up excitedly when her voice sounded through the speaker.

"hello?"

"shoko, i'm trapped in a phone box 'cause some poor kid with his gang jumped me," he explained hurriedly. it wasn't a completely accurate retelling of the story, but it got the main gist of it, and he was punched for time. "i need your help!"

there was a pause. was she seriously contemplating helping him?

"..."

"shoko?"

"hm," she hummed, her voice nasally. it usually got like that when she was working. "have you returned my lighter?"

satoru furrowed his brows. he had never promised to give that back, not when he hated it when she smoked.

"no —"

BEEEEEEP...

she had hung up.

satoru angrily punched in the numbers of another friend, one who had to be more sensible than her.

"hope she has an asthma attack," he cursed quietly, as he expectantly waited for nanami to pick up the phone.

"kento nanami, who's calling?"

as formal as ever; satoru expected no less. had he been in a better predicament, he would have made a joke about it.

"nanami!" he cheered, and then hurriedly got to the point. perhaps he ought to go a different route, if only to avoid the same outcome with smoke-addict-shoko. "remember when i helped you pay for yuu's birthday expenses?"

he heard him let out a breathy sigh from the other end of the call.

"what's this about, gojo?" he asked, sounding exhausted.

satoru explained his situation as best as he could. he had high hopes for this call — nanami was always the serious, sensible one. there was no way he'd turn him down now.

"you're stuck in a phone box with no way out?" he repeated, though even nanami wouldn't be able to fake amusement even if he tried. satoru felt his stomach drop. "what a shame."

BEEEEEEP...

and he was left with that same ringing beep...

no, the next one would work. he was certain of it.

the kfc disagreement might have occurred a year or two ago, but it was all right. satoru knew that.

they were best friends, after all.

he hurriedly pressed suguru's phone number into the dial and waited.

and waited.

and waited...

...and waited...

and then gave up.

i would've picked up his call, he thought to himself bitterly, before dialling the fushiguros' telephone.

he prayed to god that megumi would answer, and not —

"erm... hello!"

you.

he found you funny, a great kid, one to match the zenins' wit in every way. but you could be so very... chatty.

especially when he didn't have the time.

"y/n, i'm trapped in a phone box 'cause of some sketchy kids in a gang," he explained, though something in his gut knew that this was futile, "where's megumi's mom? where's your mom? in the event that she'd even care —"

"my mom is —"

but you had paused, for megumi's voice had entered the line, but distant:

"i know you stole my book, y/n. give it back."

"i didn't — ugh! satoru, i can't talk to you right now 'cause i'm in the middle of making fun of megumi 'cause he said i stole his boring, non-fiction book when i didn't —"

"— yeah i don't give a shit, where's your mom?" he interrupted, because there was only so much he could take.

your gasp on the other end of the line was telling.

and it came as no surprise to him when you hung up as revenge:

"oh you— okay! bye!"

"wait, y/n —"

BEEEEEEP...

"oh for fucks —" he began, but kept his cool as he pictured his wife. his wife who, surely, would help him. she was his only hope at this point, because if not her, then it had to be ogi.

if not her, then it had to be toji.

he shivered at the thought.

he waited for her to pick up.

"hello? who is this?"

he had no time to waste.

there was a long pause after satoru's rushed explanation, the muffled static on the other end of the line filling the silence. he leaned forwards slightly, gripping the receiver, his hope wavering as the seconds stretched on. surely, his wife was gearing up for some clever solution, for she was smart, he remembered that well during high school and college — or at least, that's what he convinced himself of.

then came the sound of her laughter.

it started low, building into something unrestrained and far too amused for his liking.

and before he could say or do anything else, she ended the call with a click, hanging up the phone herself. satoru stood there, staring at the receiver in disbelief, the faint beep of the disconnected line mocking him.

BEEEEEEP...

reluctantly, he had called both ogi and toji next, and each regret stung more than the last. ogi sounded all too pleased by the event, and had hung up to, no doubt, inform everyone he knew of 'the gojo heir' being a victim of mugging.

toji's brutal honesty hit harder.

his voice had been laced with smug amusement, delivering one dismissive insult after another before abruptly cutting the call. by the time the phone clicked silent again, satoru felt something he rarely experienced — genuine, soul-deep irritation.

with a frustrated growl, satoru clenched his fist and swung it towards the glass, the impact reverberating through the phone box.

a sharp crack echoed as small fractures spread across the surface, and a few shards broke loose, tumbling to the ground.

he flexed his fingers, inspecting the streaks of red beginning to stain his knuckles. the sight annoyed him more than the pain — bleeding wasn't part of the plan. still, the partial break in the glass was hopeful, and he prepared himself for another attempt.

as he paused to assess his next move, his gaze caught on a young blonde-haired girl walking along the street nearby. she couldn't have been older than you or megumi, about ten, her small figure striking against the gritty surroundings.

desperation took over as he called out to her, motioning with his uninjured hand. the girl stopped and turned towards him, but her wide, wary eyes said it all — she clearly thought he was some sort of lunatic. satoru would have tried to understand his viewpoint if he wasn't so irritated with his situation.

she hesitated, clutching her backpack tighter, and stared at him as though deciding whether to run or stay.

"you're a pedo!" she'd decided altogether, which only got satoru to clench his jaw at her.

his neck was starting to hurt with how the height of the phone box had bent him at its will.

"i'm not a pedo, and if i was, you'd be safe, you blonde, bob-headed, little shit."

she furrowed her brows at him, but she'd taken several steps closer, which told him that there was a certain level of trust there between them.

"i'm trapped," he explained, for the eighth time. he looked around and saw a discarded hammer on the dusty floor. "get that hammer and pass it to me through the hole i made."

"my mom told me not to speak to strangers," said the child, her white dress notable in comparison to all the dust and dirt surrounding them.

"your mom also left you unattended in this sketchy neighbourhood," said satoru, brows raised. "you think her opinion matters? help me out."

the child still seemed reluctant. satoru groaned loudly.

"i'll buy you a cupcake."

she ran over to the hammer and presented it to him. satoru encouraged her to push it through the hole, but the way she was looking at it made him pause.

and he was right to do so, for she unexpectedly held it over her head, and then slammed it into the glass window, his hands immediately going over his head to prevent the glass from cutting into his face and sensitive areas.

"sick," he marvelled, as she continued to smash up the glass.

and after a little more smashing, she had finally had her fun and handed the hammer over to satoru through a much wider hole.

he took it gratefully, looking down at her through his round glasses with his head tilted.

"might wanna step back, kid," he warned her, before releasing all his pent-up anger on the phone box, enough to smash its front in a way that made it unrecognisable.

he stepped out, throwing the hammer away, leaving it discarded somewhere forgettable behind him.

"i'm getting my stuff back."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the gang gathered around satoru's possessions with wide eyes, each of them marvelling at the loot they'd just stolen. the leader, with a smug grin on his face, rifled through his wallet, fascinated by the sleek, black card inside.

"this guy's loaded," he muttered to himself, feeling more than a little victorious, for there had been four different sleek cards, and he was certain if they chose to rob his house next, they'd find more.

his fingers hovered over satoru's phone, still in pristine condition despite the earlier struggle.

the rest of the gang members, too, admired the items with greedy satisfaction.

but their smugness was short-lived.

in a blur, everything around them seemed to freeze for a moment, only to snap back into chaos. one second, they were standing in the middle of the street, basking in their victory, and the next — a flash of white filled their vision.

it was as if the world had shifted, disorienting them completely. the last thing they saw was satoru's towering presence, the white of his hair and his eyes like blinding light.

then, with only one warning from one of the members ("guys, he's coming! he's coming!"), they found themselves in a dark alley, each of them battered and exhausted, sprawled out on the ground.

the gang leader himself could taste blood in his mouth, his head swimming as he tried to piece together what had just happened in the space of five minutes. his body screamed in pain, the bruises already beginning to form, and his mind struggled to understand the impossible speed of the attack.

they hadn't stood a chance.

satoru stood over him now, his foot casually pressing down on the younger man's face, pinning him to the ground with alarming ease. his grin was feral, manic — a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

his possessions, now securely back in his grasp, were scattered around him, including the cupcake, which he held up to his lips, barely noticing the bloodstained mess of the street around him. his body was tense, like a coiled spring, filled with untamed energy as he looked down at the leader with barely-contained excitement...

there was something unnerving about the way he was smiling — something wild and unhinged, as if the fight, the chase, and the thrill had unlocked something primal within him. he was terrifying, but utterly in control of himself, and the chaos surrounding him.

"heh," he laughed to himself, throwing the bag over his shoulder. "i get why toji used to do this all the time. look at your faces!"

he eyed them all, noticing one thing they all had in common. he laughed loudly.

they were all japanese.

"what is this, the yakuza?" he joked, taking a bite out of his cupcake.

he deserved more sweet treats, he decided. perhaps he would go downtown to treat himself again.

his eyes had landed on the very criminal that had taken his cupcake intentionally. he walked away from the gang leader and bent down to present it to him again.

"want a bite?" he teased.

when he didn't respond, satoru stood up straight again.

"what, you scared?"

but despite asking the question, he didn't wait for a response. instead, he turned around, spotting the little, blonde girl that had helped him out, and walked off without looking back.

"go back to school," he advised them. "you guys are shit criminals."

satoru strolled over to the little blonde girl, who looked up at him expectantly, her bright eyes wide and curious. her expression was a mix of confusion and caution, as though she wasn't quite sure what to make of the strange man who had just singlehandedly obliterated a gang.

satoru, unfazed, reached into his wallet with a casual flick of his wrist, extracting a five-dollar bill. he held it out to her with a grin, his earlier manic energy fading into something far more playful.

"here, kid. get yourself something nice," he said with a wink.

"my name's hana," she told him, taking the bill. "hana kurusu."

he raised his brows at her.

"good to know," he'd said, and without waiting for a reply, turned on his heel, the faintest chuckle escaping his lips as he walked away.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

notes: turns out my law exam i told you about went super well (got an A, woohoo!) and i was being dramatic lmao. so half this chapter was scenes i knew you’d be happy with, the other half was a lot of kamo, which i knew a lot of you hate me for, but it had to be done ‘cause i was right about the shit sociology test :/ lmao anyway, this was basically just some filler hahaa (with semi-plot!) 😼

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

taglist (send an ask or comment to be added):

@1l-ynn @shaigimo @shuupiu @nappingnai @xbarrjallenx @reinaswrld @anintrovertedechoe @momoewn @polarbvnny @lailuv21 @cherriee-ee @hfuensiekabhsufnd @k0z3me @laughingfcx @jelly-fsh @anonymity-222 @blubearxy @jamypam @thelost-child @anotherwriternamedclara @ist0leurc0ffee @spookypeacesandwich @jvpit3rr

© tojiscrack (previously ack4rwoman)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumblr no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

[ghostfacesvalentine]

HALLOWEEN DAY 28: The Exorcist- Jason Todd x Fem!Reader NSFW

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Warning: NSFW! Brief mentions of horror movies/demonic movies but nothing going into detail. Mmm idk cursing, Jason being dirty lol whore. What do u want from me.

Type: Blurb

Request: N/A

Word count: N/A

Prompt: Reader tried to get Jason into the movies she likes, but Jason likes to multitask.

Notes: This is literally nothing but pure smut. Sowwy. Had a similar experience to inspire this and I figured it fit Jason perfectly. What do you think?

Jason never really cared for horror movies, especially the demonic ones, but when you were in fuzzy socks and little Halloween sleep shorts that left nothing to the imagination, he couldn’t resist. “Yeah whatever you say”

Listening to you yap away about the story and what’s true in it and what isn’t. He’s drifting in and out as you talk, you’re buzzed and both of you chose to stay in for Halloween. It’s your favorite holiday and you had to beg him to take it off. He didn’t put up much of a fight and when he sees you all glazed over and excited about the movie you finally convinced him to watch, he can’t help himself.

It wasn’t like there was much else to do tonight anyway, it was a weekday after all. You made popcorn, had snacks sprawled out, you prepared for this in hopes that he would be able to get into scary movies with you, specifically The Exorcist.

Before the introduction of the characters, Jason had you on your elbows, hands warm inside the leg holes of your pajama shorts, only pushed them aside with your panties to expose your slick folds. Your back was deliciously arched, his hands gripped your whole asscheeks as he lined himself against your entrance. “Come on baby, we can both still watch the movie” he snorted, mouth watering at the wetness he felt with his tip. He gripped the back of your head, making you face the TV screen as he impaled you with his cock, you breathed out a sharp moan when he stuffed himself in all the way.

“Fuck.” You hissed out as he pulled you back against his hips, you couldn’t see him, your hair messily in the way of your vision as he began to pound himself into you.

Jason’s eyes rolled back as he picked up the rhythm, the screams and shouts of the movie became distant in his ears as he only focused on your moans and breathless voice. The more you whimpered and jolted away, the stronger his grip felt, pulling you back in place as you felt yourself becoming undone.

“What else can you tell me about this movie doll?” He asked genuinely, but you were so caught up on the way his dick stroked your insides. Before you could acknowledge the feeling of his tip bulging into you, he pulled out then thrusted back in. You couldn’t keep up with the pressure, his knees were in between yours, splitting them more and more apart as he kept up his pace.

You buried your face into the mattress, your hair was anxiously in the way of your breathing. Usually in other times, he would be more handsy but he was on a mission to make you cream all over his thick girth. You didn’t even have time or energy to remember what movie you were watching, only focused on the tightness of your belly.

The praying and screaming remained on the screen, your hopeless whines were still audible though and even if Jason didn’t want you to scream out your lungs, he still secretly loved when you couldn’t help yourself.

“Such a good girl, fuck. You feel great princess, wanna paint your walls” he breathed out, his thrusts becoming sharper than the rest. You felt your body twitch, your walls clenched up as his dick grazed your g spot at the right pace. “Be an angel and give me your hand.” He hissed, but you couldn’t understand, too caught up in the fuzzy feeling as you felt your body squirt into the sheets. “Or not.” He told himself as he grabbed your hand to cup his balls. Jason tilted his head back as he felt your hand tense up, feet squirm beside him as you felt your orgasm come in waves and he felt it squeeze his dick deliciously. “My fucking baby.”

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn It

Ch. 9: Pretty Tired of Talking About Tennis

Note: Well...I'm back. And I have several things to say in this author's note. A.) sorry, it should've been sooner. B.) I can't wait to get back into the swing of this story. Most importantly, C.) thank you so much for the continued love you've shown it. As those who have seen the movie know, we're quite literally still in the beginning. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and the ones to come. Please remember these characters are all meant to be flawed but none completely evil as you read. They will be toxic and make mistakes. Our good friend Patrick is distinctly missing in this one, but don't worry, his absence is not permanent. Anyways, I love interacting with you all so feel free to send me messages, things in my inbox, and comment. And to those who would like to know who's children those are...well...what do you guys think? I'd love to hear thoughts and guesses. If this sucks let's chalk it up to me being rusty and I'll try to do better next time lol. Love y'all <3

Warnings: Mention of sexual content, strong language, themes of cheating (MDNI)

Taglist (This shit normally doesn't work for me): @spookystitchery@anehkael@fkaams@butterflyybabe@sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

“This is some bullshit. Now, they don’t wanna sing.” Heaven shakes her head, flexing her toes against Tashi’s leg on the other side of the couch. “That’s so stupid.”

“They need to get rid of those other two girls, clearly, Chanel and Galleria want it more.” Tashi shrugs, swatting Heaven’s foot away, rolling her eyes when she feels the girl drop them right back into her lap. “I’m Galleria, you’re Chanel.”

“Um, I’m definitely Galleria, what the fuck are you even saying?” 

“Nope,” Tashi says, popping the ‘p’ and reaching across the coffee table to take a sip of her drink, cringing at the bitter taste of alcohol on her tongue. “Okay, this is fucking nasty, we probably should’ve looked up what the fuck we were making.”

“Mm. And have my mom find out we drank when she goes through my computer? Girl.” Heaven shifts in her seat, moving to sit criss-crossed and face Tashi on the couch. “Cheers.” She grins, pushing her mug against Tashi’s, smiling even harder when the taller girl mirrors her position and makes a little ‘tink’ sound as the glasses collide. “You wouldn’t even like having two other girls that hang out with us all the time.”

Tashi’s brows furrow disbelief clear on her face at the accusation. “Me? Why?”

“You’re possessive.”

“I’m not possessive, you just pick dickheads to fuck with.” 

“Oh yeah? And your type is better?” Heaven snorts, leaning to the side, reaching over to the coffee table digging through the makeup bag of nail polishes Tashi had presented her with when they’d started setting up for their little movie night. Heaven produces a sage green polish from the bag, waving the bottle for Tashi’s approval. “Caleb was the cream of the crop then?”

Tashi shrugs, reaching into Heaven’s lap and selecting the baby blue the dancer had selected for herself. “Better than Chance. Try to stay in the lines this time?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Heaven mumbles, a smile on her face as she takes Tashi’s hand, hunching over, breaking her generally perfect posture to focus in on her friend’s delicate nails. Tashi sits back and watches as Heaven tilts her head in concentration, biting down lightly on her bottom lip as she glides the brush across her fingernails, the cool polish setting in as Heaven lightly blows on each nail as she goes. “Chance was the fucking worst.”

“Yeah and he hated me.”

“All of your boyfriends always hate me.” Heaven hums. “Wonder why that is.”

Tashi smiles, turning her face away for a second, giving herself a break from the thrumming feeling looking at Heaven gives her and watching the scene playing out on tv. It was something of a mutiny. Dorinda and Aqua, talking shit about Galleria to Chanel. Calling her a diva and demanding that her best friend do something. Chanel knowing her friend had gone too far, done too much and loving her anyway. Because their dreams were too important. Their friendship took precedent. “Probably because they know you’re obsessed with me. Look at you, working so hard to paint my nails and make me all pretty.”

“You’re the one who picked out my favorite color.” Heaven purses her lips, closing the polish and placing it back into the bag, holding out Tashi’s hand to admire her own work. “They’re just jealous because I;m a better boyfriend to you than they are. No one meets your expectations like I do.”

“Yeah?” Tashi challenges, quirking an eyebrow, her own twin grin matching Heaven’s. “You think you impress me?” Locked in a stalemate, both girls are unflinching, both daring the other to look away, to fold first. That’s how it starts. Their staring contest had begun as a battle of wills. The smell of popcorn and nail polish in the air. The distant noise of the ‘All Around the World’ song from Cheetah Girls playing on the television. The dark hallways leading to the living room threaten to suddenly reveal Heaven’s stepfather or worse mother to discover them and burst their bubble. But what was more pressing was the energy between the two girls. It was nothing they hadn’t felt before. After a heated match, as they rush together to celebrate another victory for Tashi, Heaven’s voice hoarse from how loudly she’d screamed from her. After each show, or recital, when Heaven is still doused in show makeup and glitter, and Tashi can’t help but see a shining star when she’s looking her in the face. But this time, Tashi did something different. Something only Heaven has ever been able to draw out of her in her 16 years of living. 

She concedes.

“Hev, you’re really pretty. Obviously,” she pulls Heaven’s hand into her own lap, toying with her fingers, without breaking eye contact. Her voice dropping to a whisper. “You know that.”

Heaven can appreciate it. Tashi putting herself out there like this, no matter how small the gesture. She got the point. And it was hard for Tashi, for both of them, to be vulnerable. Heaven had spent the past year wrestling with the feelings she’d developed for her friend. She’d just convinced herself she was satisfied just being her favorite person, even if they weren’t romantic a few months ago. Sure she flirted and joked, but she never thought Tashi would initiate something. There wasn’t anything in the world at that moment that could make her leave her hanging. 

“Yeah, but, you’re the only person it really matters to hear it from.” Heaven’s cheeks dimple as she scoots closer, intertwining her fingers with Tashi’s. 

Tashi’s brows furrow as she cocks her head back, creating a little more space as Heaven leans in, causing the other girl to roll her eyes. “And?”

“And,” Heaven’s nose wrinkles playfully as she sits up on her knees, breathing softly against Tashi’s lips before connecting them with hers. “You’re really pretty too.”

2019 (California)

Heaven speed walks down the walkway to the larger waiting room she knew Art would be placed in. A splitting stress headache is already forming in the front of her brain as she makes her way past the busy employees running the event, hiding her face from the flashing lights of fans and photographers. 

As she rounds the corner she sees Tashi pacing back and forth, running her fingers through her bob and biting her lower lip. She pauses in her steps as she sees Heaven making her way toward her. Clapping her hands together and shrugging she fixes Heaven with a disapproving look. “This should be easy. What the fuck is wrong with him?”

“Why? What happened?”

“He’s just,” Tashi huffs out a breath, shaking her head. “He doesn’t give a fuck. I can’t give a fuck for him, Heaven.”

“M’not asking you to. Stop talking to me like that, you’re not my coach, you’re Art’s.” Heaven snaps the gum in her mouth irritably.

“I am his coach.”

“Then coach him.”

“Arthur is a grown man-” Tashi scoffs, laughing humorously.

“I know.” 

“I can’t get him to do anything that he doesn’t want to do.” 

“Be patient with him.”

“Interestingly enough, that’s your job, not mine.” Tashi grimaces, leaning down to mumble as a pair of fans walk by waving at them. Heaven offers them her own smile and nod as they pass.  Team Donaldson is a unit after all. “Look, I’m doing my part. He needs to do his, or this doesn’t work. Then none of us are happy.” Tashi tilts her head in the direction of the door. “Look, he’s asking for you. If you can get him together, that’s great, if not…”

“He’s fine, Tashi. I’m gonna talk to him. Let me talk to him.” Heaven’s tired. She knows Tashi’s tired and it’s obvious Art is. But this has to work. They’ve worked too hard. All of them have worked too hard to not make it to the finish. Heaven reaches out, grabbing Tashi’s hand and squeezing, her own face softening at the exhausted look on Tashi’s pretty face. “Let me fix it.”

Tashi takes another deep breath, eyes slipping closed briefly before flexing her fingers around Heaven’s, twisting the gold band underneath the accent ring on her finger. “He needs to be ready in 7 minutes. I’m giving you 5.”

“That’s all I need.”

The door clicks open and Art’s eyes trail over from the wall to the doorway. 

“Arthur.”

Heaven stands in front of him with her hand on her hip, the other hand wrapped around the knob as the view of a sour Tashi fades from his view as the door closes again, head tilted as if she’s observing him. He shifts under the weight of her gaze, sitting back in the fold out chair, opening his legs and holding out one of his calloused hands he’d just been inspecting. Art holds his breath as she purses her lips, raising a single brow at him as she decides if she feels like bothering with him, if she is mad at him too. 

He releases that breath when she rolls her eyes, taking two large steps before standing between his legs, resting her own soft, unbroken hands on his face, soothing the frown on his lips away with each brush of her thumb. She allows him to explore with his own hands the body he’d wished he’d woken up to that morning. Every morning. He runs his palms up and down her strong, dancer’s legs, taking in her sweet scent as he pushes his face against her stomach and his palms squeeze her ass, pulling her closer. A familiar wave of pride washes over him as he feels the difference in fabric between the rest of her tracksuit and the letters painted across the backside that were similarly spelled out across her chest.

DONALDSON

“What the fuck?” She all but whispers, her rose petal lips set into a confused grimace. “You don’t wanna play today?”

“I never said that.” he mumbles against the fabric. Heaven pushes him by his shoulders so that he settles against the back of the chair and leans down so they’re face to face, sighing as Art pushes their foreheads together. 

“So, why are you sitting here like someone who doesn’t wanna go play some fucking tennis?” She asks. Big brown eyes scan his somber face, her manicured thumb sweeps across the skin of his cheek. “He’s a fucking nobody, Art.”

“I know that.” 

“So what’s the problem?” Heaven squints, brows furrowing, pushing him away again as he rubs his face against hers. She guides him by his chin, forcing him back enough so that can look him in his eyes. “Are you done?”

“Baby-” He starts, only for her to pull him even closer.

“No, seriously. Are you done? Is this all? Let me know now.” 

“I never…I never said that, it’s just-” Art stares up into concerned brown eyes and sees his reflection in them. He can't take it. The look. It’s not the stern look of disapproval or disdain. It’s not even annoyance or agitation. It's disappointment. It’s fear. Fear that he’s tapped out. Fear that he is done. He can see that Heaven is petrified of what that would mean. And Art is too. “I dunno, Hev.” 

She cups his face then, her warm hands contrasted by the cold ring on her finger, her proximity clouding his judgment and overpowering thoughts of exhaustion and disinterest. Heaven seduces him with the love in her eyes. She climbs fully into his lap then, resting her weight on him as they melt together, tension in his body dissipating with each new place their bodies meet. “I want to help you. Tell me how. Tell me what you need. Tell me what you need me to do, Art, and I’ll do it. What do you want, baby?” 

“I want,” He sighs deeply, eyes fluttering shut as he brushes his lips against hers, gripping her waist tighter as they share their air. “I want you to look at me.” His lips capture hers in a heated kiss. Heaven opens her mouth to him, releasing her own sigh as their tongues brush before she tugs his bottom lip into her mouth. A small sound of surprise escapes her as Art steals the gum from her mouth, holding it out of the way in his cheek as he explores her mouth. “Just me.” He murmurs against her lips. 

Heaven pulls back at that, pressing one more kiss on his nose, face softening when he leans into the last little piece of affection desperately, before dropping his own kisses on her nose, forehead and jaw, ending with her palm. “I’m always looking at you, superstar.”

It’s almost like fate wanted to remind him that’s not true. That these little moments in time are just a fantasy. Because just like that the room doors were opening and Tashi was power walking her way in. Suddenly, those brown eyes didn’t belong to him anymore. Neither set of them. Instead, there’s a silent conversation happening over his head. A language he couldn’t understand even if it were spoken out loud. He’s cold under the shadows they cast as they discuss him without him. His mind wanders as his eyes trail back over to the picture of a younger, more enthusiastic him that hangs on the waiting room wall. 

There’s another knock at the door that catches the trio’s attention, a woman with a headset pokes her head in and offers the blond a wide smile, a fan working the event no doubt, damn near gushing as she holds her clipboard to her chest. “Mr. Donaldson, it’s time.”

“Okay.” Tashi answers for him. The woman is shaken then, acknowledging there are two other people in the room. Two other athletes. There always are, with Art. But he’s the star. In everyone else’s eyes. He’s the one that matters. She nods and leaves the room, scurrying away to her hurry and fulfill whatever other responsibilities, no doubt in interest of finishing in time to see the Art Donaldson play.  Heaven doesn’t even wait for them, following the employee out as both Tashi and Art watch her slip from the room to meet them outside. Tashi moves in front of Art, smoothing her hand over his hair as she studies his face. She cups her hand under his mouth glancing down at it expectantly. Breathing out a heavy sigh, Art spits his gum into her open palm, before feeling the other hand hold his other cheek. “Decimate that little bitch.”

Leo Du Marier was a new player. He was the best in his school and eventually made it into the big leagues. Big enough that today, he’d be playing against Art Donaldson today. The kid was fucking shitting his pants. Art Donaldson has basically won, every fucking award a tennis player could win, and was the youngest to do so. All he was missing was the U.S. Open. Du Marier himself had waited in line for an embarrassing amount of time to try and score a pair of Nike x Donaldson sneakers when they’d dropped. The younger player couldn’t decide if he was excited to meet the man he wishes to model his career after or petrified. The man was going to destroy him. Humiliate him. He knows it. 

The only thing that gave him some kind of relief was that Art was known to be kind. While the man was admittedly smug, past opponents do speak of the crooked smile and strong handshake that he offers after he drags them through the fucking mud. He’s seen many pictures that the blond man has taken with people just like Du Marier, wrapping his arm around them on one side, but refusing to let go of whatever trophy he’d wrenched out of their hands with the other. 

At least he’d kick his ass with a kind smile. 

So, when Du Marier’s coach nudges him as they make their way through the player’s tunnel leading to the courts and he sees Art, he stops. He feels larger than life. Not in height, because though he’s pretty tall, it’s not the length of him. It’s the stride. It’s the walk. His gear. It’s pristine, with his name printed on it. His demeanor. It’s not at all what the younger player had expected. It’s cold and unmoving. Nothing like the player he’d seen from the bleachers years ago when he was too young to even enter. Flanking his sides are two beautiful women, walking in unison with him, all of their steps coming off perfectly executed and calculated. Each of them seemingly the exact same distance apart from each other. Du Marier couldn’t help but stare. 

And Art felt it. He turns his head, looking at him. Staring. Almost…glaring. It felt like ice in his veins as he watched the celebrity frown at him, not so much as offering a wave as he made his way past. Du Marier unconsciously holds his breath, waiting, pleading for the moment to pass. He thanks his fucking lucky stars as one of the woman’s hand makes its way to Art’s face, diamond ring glittering against her skin as she guides his face forward before they exit the tunnel, waving to the paparazzi. 

“Did you see that look? He’s going to destroy me, no?”

“Worry about it later, Leo.”

As Du Marier watches the Art Donaldson, send yet another tennis racket sailing against the wall, sweat dripping down his brow he releases his breath. A smile spreads across his face as some of the crowd cheers for him and even more of them boo him for his win. He was cool with being an underdog success story. Especially against that asshole. He could feel the people in the crowd nearly vibrating with disappointment, as the fan favorite lost another match. He used to be one of them. Rooting for the blond asshole across the net. But now? Well, maybe this is why they say don’t meet your fuckin’ heroes. 

He could at least say, to Art’s credit, he didn’t seem to give a fuck about the crowd. As he paced along the court, kicking his chair and swearing under his breath, he only seemed to be looking in one section. To be honest, it’d been the only section he’d bothered looking at the entire match. One might say he’d looked so much that it was what threw him off. Du Marier takes a second to follow Art’s gaze, eyes flicking between the angry tennis player and two empty seats. He couldn’t help but understand why Art was so upset. Leo would be hurt too if his wife and coach left before they even got to matchpoint. 

.

2007 (California: Stanford Campus) 

Heaven’s leg jumps as she sits in the spectator seat, watching the ball go back and forth between Tashi and Art twice before it rolls to a stop on Art’s side. She drops her head back in the chair in annoyance as she hears Tashi huff. 

“Hit the ball.”

She doesn’t even bother opening her eyes as she hears Tashi serve, a severe lack in the sound of footsteps coming from Art’s side. He’s not even trying. It’s just gonna piss her off. It’s not helping us see what she can do. Heaven groans when she hears the ball hit the fence behind him and sits up with a frown on her face.

“What’re you, scared you’re gonna hurt me?” Tashi growls, gripping her racket. Her brows are furrowed as she glares at the blond man who simply opens his mouth and then closes it, glancing at Heaven as if she was supposed to save him from Tashi’s scrutiny. “Pussy.” 

With that, Heaven climbs down from the spectator’s seat, walking irritably over to Art’s side, tugging up her gym shorts and hopping a little from one foot to the other. “Tashi, come on.” She holds her hand out for Art’s racket without sparing him a glance, “move.” she mumbles nudging him out of the way.

Heaven is by no means a tennis player. Recreationally, she could hold her own very well, and she was quick on her feet due to dance, but the real reason she could play decently was because Tashi demanded it. It was for when Tashi was antsy and no one else was unavailable. Or when she was upset and needed to blow off some steam the only way she knew how. 

“Actually try to hit the ball.” The taller girl says grumpily, rounding back into position, sitting into a squat.

And she does. 

Heaven tries very hard. She respects Tashi, and she knows she’s the better player, so she does her best. And it’s good for a few moments. Until she tries to send her down the line, and her knee gives out, sending her down onto the court. 

Art is jumping over the net in a flash trying to get to the girl and help her up. But Heaven just stands behind, twirling the racket in her hand.

“Tashi, get up.” 

“I am. I’m good-” she lightly pushes Art’s helping hands away, leg wobbling as she attempts to stand, pushing off of the rough gravel of the court. “I’m good, I’m fine-”

“Hold on.” Art says softly, holding the girl’s arms, sighing as her knee buckles slightly, causing her to stumble. “Maybe we should take a break for today.”

“She’s fine. We need to keep going.” Heaven walks over to the net, taking Art’s outstretched hand as she swings her legs over, oblivious to Tashi's eyes dropping to their hands. “T, you’re good, right?”

“I’m fine.” the taller girl grits her teeth, trying to regain her balance.

“See?”

Art sucks some air between his teeth, running his hand along Heaven’s arm, pulling her a little closer, speaking softly. “Hev, her knee, c’mon.” 

Tashi feels her skin crawl as Art and Heaven’s eyes drop to her leg. The fucking pity in Art’s voice. The frustration on Heaven’s face. She was so fucking sick of being injured. Her teammates were bad enough, but Art the fucking tennis player who is hellbent on stealing her girlfriend, and said success junkie girlfriend looking at her the way they were was literally too much to fucking bear. She couldn’t handle him feeling bad for her and Heaven looking at her like she was damaged good. She was already irritable because that loser Patrick had been blowing up her goddamn phone with nothing but excuses. Even after she’d made it clear she never wanted to see him again. Then she misses one recital. One goddamn opener and all of a sudden Heaven was ‘navigating’ a new relationship with Art. They weren’t breaking up, but now there are feelings between the two of them. She can understand the appeal of Art. He’s hot, a good player, successful in his own right. And desperate. A lovesick puppy, hearts damn near appearing in his eyes when the object of his affection is in the room. But he’s here and he’s a constant reminder of what her body is screaming it can’t do anymore. They both are. And her choosing him in Tashi’s face only made the pain worse. “Ignore him. Let’s keep going.”

Her voice sounds stronger in her head than it does out loud, leading her girlfriend to pause. “T, maybe Art’s right and you need a break?”

“Jesus fucking christ, fucking forget it.” she hisses, tossing her head back. “If you don’t want to help me you seriously just go.”

“I’m here to fucking help you!”

“You’re here to fuck Art, which is fine, trust me, I don’t fucking care.” Tashi shrugs, laughing humorlessly. 

“Hey, Tashi-” Art starts, standing between them.

“I’m here to help you, Tashi. That’s what I always do, that’s why I’m always here.” 

“Well, I don’t need your help right now. I really don’t need to fuck up my other leg.” Tashi finishes, crossing her arms. Heaven’s mouth drops open, eyes watering as she stares at her girlfriend in shock.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean was it supposed to be helpful finding out you’re cheating on me with our friend and then watching you fight with our boyfriend right before my match?” Tashi smoothes a hand over her messy ponytail, wetting her lips. “It’s fine, I forgive you. You too, thank you, for rubbing that in my face by the way, friend. I forgive you, for white knighting your way into my girlfriend’s pants and taking the time to let me know right before one of the biggest matches of my college career.”

Heaven’s eyes widen, turning to look between Art and Tashi, bottom lip wobbling as she holds back the tears that threaten to flood her eyes. Tashi rolls her own eyes to the sky, looking away as Art wraps his arm around Heaven, tugging her into a hug, murmuring an apology and stammering explanations into her hair. “Tashi, that’s not how it went, alright? All she ever does is try to think of you, and care about you.”

“Fucking kidding me.” the girl murmurs, limping to the other side of the court. Heaven watches as Tashi picks up a stray ball, bouncing it off of the fence and beginning to practice by herself. She shifts in Art’s arms, looking up at him. 

“I’m um, gonna stay with her for a while. Practice with her a bit. Can we…can I talk to you later?”

Blue and brown puppy dog eyes stare into her soul, and involuntary pout forming as Art lets Heaven send him off, chest tight as he feels his own wave of guilt overtake him. 

Art is anxious for the next few hours as he waits to hear from Heaven or Tashi. He’d hope they’d talk and call him back. But as day turned to night, he realized that the girls may have genuinely just needed him out of the way to continue peacefully practicing. 

He wishes he’d said more. Done more. Heaven and Tashi’s relationship is so complex, it feels like a minefield to navigate. Sometimes they’re friends, sometimes they’re girlfriends, sometimes it’s like they believe they’re the only two people in the world. He couldn’t step in and yell at Tashi, he wouldn’t want to, and even if he did, Heaven wouldn’t tolerate it for a second. He couldn’t bring himself to ask Heaven to leave with him. Partially because part of him wonders if what Tashi was starting to say was right. Did he ruin her life? He, Patrick, and Heaven, were walking out of this mess they made relatively unscathed and Tashi’s dreams were likely ruined. Anyone could look at the proud girl and know she’s devastated. Had her life been better without them in it? Had Heaven’s? 

The other reason being he’d feared what he would find out. It was one thing, to gain some confidence and beat Patrick out for something they both wanted. Someone. But his friend was liable to fuck up in some way, to lose the girls and leave room for Art to take his place. But Tashi was nearly flawless. She was so similar and different from Heaven, anyone could see they compliment each other. And Heaven loves her so much. Tashi has years worth of ‘I love you’ from Heaven under her belt. Art had just managed to get two to match his fifty. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he drew a line in the sand, held out his hand for Heaven when Tashi was going in the opposite direction. And so he’s careful. And he waits. He was choosing not to play a game he’s almost certain he would lose. 

It’s no shock to him when Heaven texts him at 1:25 in the morning to let him know she’d gone back to UCLA. He’d already packed a bag to take with him and had begun shoving one shoe on his foot, stumbling around the room as his phone vibrated with her message. He would chase her. Art would always chase her if he had to. Even if someone was pulling her away. 

But not if she didn’t want it. 

No. If Heaven decided she needed space, she didn’t…want him, he’d do what she wanted. Even if it hurts him. She’s worth it.

That’s exactly what he tells himself as he climbs into his twin sized bed, biting down on his own fist, willing himself not to cry when the phone brings him the message he was dreading.

I’ve got to think through some things. I think we need space…we did a bad thing Art.

Well, Tashi did warn him. When it came to Heaven, she’d never really lose.

2019 (California)

“Ouch this is getting to be brutal, you just can’t be missing shots like that.”

Tashi cuts her eyes toward Art, sipping her coffee silently as he meets her eyes, offering her a borderline sarcastic smile. 

“And there goes the racket.”

“He was playing really well.”

Tashi leans forward, placing her drink on the table before crossing her arms. “I’m pulling you out of Cincinnati.” 

“T-”

“Might as well pull you out of the Open too, if this isn’t gonna be your year then why bother?” she shrugs, kicking her feet back up onto the hotel couch. 

“I’m just rusty, it’s a confidence thing.”

“Get your fucking confidence back, I can’t do it for you. Heaven can’t do it for you.”

“No one is asking you to.” He sighs, grabbing his protein shake from the table. 

“When you play like that you are.” The door to the suite clicks open and Heaven comes in wearing a gym set, one headphone covering her ear, the other pushed back on her head. Art’s eyes follow her as she pauses, briefly making eye contact with him before leaning over the counter and typing on her phone. “I would fucking kill for a recovery like yours, a child, an old lady, fucking anybody.” 

“Okay, jesus.” Heaven calls from behind the couch, making her way over. She leans over the back of the couch, resting her forearms and curling her lip. 

Tashi shrugs again, adjusting herself to look at Heaven. “I mean we’re all adults here. Everyone has made decisions, if this is it, if this is all you guys want as your legacy that’s fine. We’ve all made enough money. We can retire, and be rich people, run the foundations.”

“Where are they?”

“In the living room.”

The three adults pause their conversation, all plastering easy looks onto their faces as Aurora comes bounding in, curls still dripping wet from the tub, plopping herself onto the couch between Tashi and Art. Tashi’s mom hovering in the doorway. 

“Hi, baby.” Tashi chirps, adjusting the girl’s Doc McStuffins nightgown. 

“Can we watch Spiderverse?” 

“Of course we can. Course we can, it’s just, we gotta talk about tennis right now.” Tashi pouts, running her hands along the little girl’s hair.

“But you’re always talking about tennis.”

“I know baby,” Tashi sends Art a pointed look, causing him to drag  his own eyes over to Heaven. The shorter woman stands behind the couch, rubbing her temples, eyes closed, refusing to look at either of them. “I know.” 

“Aurora, baby, I’ll watch with you. That’s like, my favorite movie.” Heaven smiles brightly, the grin not meeting her eyes as she walks around the front of the couch, taking Aurora’s hand in hers. “Besides, I’m getting pretty tired of talking about tennis too.”

Tashi picks up her phone, shaking her head as Art watches Heaven leave with Aurora, the separator for the bedroom closing shut behind them. “She likes it here. Aurora.” She snaps her phone shut. “Heaven doesn’t.”

“We could figure something out. Something more permanent. Or, closer to New York.” Art sighs, a pained expression on his face as he stares past Tashi at the doorway. 

“We could. I meant what I said. If this is all you can handle. It ends here.” The blond man swallows, bringing his gaze back to the woman in front of him. He knows it’s not true. It’s not okay if he can’t get them to the finish line. No matter how tired he is. “Or you can keep being a tennis player, which is what you are. What do you want?”

“I can play Cincinnati.”

“No, no you can’t. Not like this. Let me see.” Tashi crosses her legs as she scrolls through her phone, finally finding something she deems reasonable and scooting closer to Art, turning her phone to him. “Phil’s Tire Town, that seems promising.”

Art skims the information on the page and scoffs in disbelief, “That’s a challenger.”

“That, is exactly what you need to get your fuckin’ confidence back. Because in middle of fucking nowhere, Phil’s Tire Town, there will be absolutely nobody on the other side of the net who can shake your fucking confidence. Right?” She doesn’t wait for him to respond before she stands, declaring she was going to make a call to get him a spot.

He feels a wave of embarrassment at the thought of going to butt fuck nowhere to participate in the kind of Challenger he hadn’t participated in since he was 19. He’s fucking humiliated actually. But before the shame can overtake him, he catches sight of the gold band gleaming on his hand that he’d been sure to put back on as soon as his match was over. And any complaints he’d had are suddenly being drowned out by the fear of what would happen if he didn’t finish. 

“Tashi.”

“We had a deal, Art. I upheld my end, you uphold yours.”

[dibidibidismynameisleeknow]

Friendsgiving

Pairing: Mingyu x (AFAB) Reader. Non-idol au

Synopsis: Just a little love story, reader and Mingyu are down bad for each other.

Characters: Mingyu, Wonwoo, Seungkwan, Jihoon, O/C Ava as Jihoon's girlfriend

Warnings: none, it's fluff, maybe a few innuendos and swears, nothing serious, Seungkwan is a menace. Despite there being no smut I still don't want minors interacting, it makes me comfortable, I'm an adult.

A/N: I was feeling inspired by S1 E9 of Friends. Fun fact, I don't decide who to write for, I let the fic tell me. The word count is almost 3,800. This is fiction.

~~~~~

🐶: Hey, any plans for Thanksgiving?

🌸: Hey Mingyu, no, I’m going to stay home this year

🐶: You’re going to be alone?

🌸: Yea, that’s okay, I’m sick of always traveling for the holidays

You figured that was the end of your conversation with Mingyu. You honestly didn’t mind not having plans for the holidays. The thought of extra time off work and not being around a bickering family for Thanksgiving was too enticing to pass up. Matter of fact, you were rather looking forward to it; maybe explore the city some more, see if any cute cafes or restaurants were open. The possibilities were endless. Your daydream of a peaceful Thanksgiving was interrupted by the ringing of your cell phone. Mingyu.

“You can’t be alone for Thanksgiving!” Mingyu refused to accept your reasoning. “As much as I would like to respect your boundaries. I am afraid that I cannot. I’m pretty sure that not being around people you care about during the holiday season is unconstitutional. I’d hate for you to have to pay a fine. Is that what you want? Do you really want to have to fight to pay the ticket like you did your parking ticket?”

You let out a snort, amused by Mingyu. “You put too much thought into that.” He really was too cute for his own good. At this point in your friendship, you’d do anything to protect him, to make sure no one hurt him. (Even though it was looking like you might be the one to break his heart).

“Mingyu, I’m tired. I just want to relax this year. Are you trying to get rid of me or something?”

“No. Stay here. Stay with me.” The line was filled with a moment of silence. You had never expected Mingyu to invite you over for a holiday. Was he cute? Yes. Do you enjoy every second you’re around him? Also yes. “This is our first Thanksgiving together. Please.”

“Why is this so important to you?” There was a slight possibility that you’d give into his plea. 

“You’re important to me. I’m thankful for our friendship. I want you here.”

Mingyu was honestly the sweetest person to grace this planet. The more you got to know him the more you could feel yourself falling for him more and more. At this point it was getting bad. The thought of Mingyu caring so much was enough to bring tears to your eyes, but you didn’t want to worry him, so you tried your best to hold them in. 

“I do a Friendsgiving every year. I’d really like you to be a part of it. There’s no travelling involved except maybe to my place, but that doesn’t count because you and I live pretty close to each other.”

“That does sound kind of nice actually. Thank you, Mingyu.”

“You’re welcome. I can’t wait to see you.”

“Text me the details.”

🐶: Saturday, come over whenever, it’s an all day thing

🌸: Do you need me to bring anything? Who am I going to meet?

🐶: Bring yourself and a positive attitude about spending the day with me! As for the guest list, I guess you’ll have to come and find out

🌸: Mingyu -.-

🐶: Fiiiiiiinneeeeee… Jihoon and his girlfriend are bringing dessert, Seungkwan is bringing drinks, and Wonwoo in typical Wonwoo fashion is bringing games. I’ve got the meat ;)

🌸: LOL I can’t wait to taste your meat Mingyu

🐶: I’m sure you’ll love it, you might even want seconds ;D

~~~~~

Mingyu ended up texting you Friday morning asking if you minded arriving extra early Saturday morning to help him prepare everything. Every year he underestimates how much work actually goes into hosting a holiday party and his social circle only seems to be growing. As important as Mingyu is to you, and as important as Friendsgiving is to him, you couldn’t imagine turning him down. You wanted this holiday to be perfect for him. If anyone deserved it, it was Mingyu.

🐶: Actually, do you mind spending the night instead?

🌸: Mingyu! That’s quite a jump in this friendship. Very risque, not demure

🐶: I’m worried about you going out in the holiday rush and I wouldn’t mind your help decorating, if you don’t mind.

🌸: Anything for you

“Oh, Kim Mingyu. How I don’t deserve you.”

~~~~~

Thankfully Friday night rolled around quickly and you were oh so grateful that Mingyu wanted you to spend the night… for convenience sake. Traffic was already wild and you could only imagine that it would get worse. After quickly packing an overnight bag you ordered dinner to have delivered to Mingyu’s place, you knew you two would be in for a long night, and day tomorrow. A token of your gratitude as well.

The evening with Mingyu went well, much better than you anticipated. The evening was spent decorating, prepping whatever food you could and overall just enjoying each other’s company. 

“This feels oddly domestic,” you noted, while placing a few decorations.

“It’s nice though, isn’t it?”

You hummed in agreement with Mingyu. “Anytime spent with you is wonderful.”

Even with you both busy preparing for tomorrow’s dinner, Mingyu still made sure to pull you in for a hug.  “Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

You soaked in his warm embrace but you couldn’t help but long for more and to be held by Mingyu more often.

“We should hurry up and get this done. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” As much as you didn’t want that moment to ever end, your heart needed it to. 

~~~~~

“Hey, now that we’re done, did you want to hang out and watch a movie or something, or would you rather head to bed?”

“I kind of want to get to bed. Do you mind if I shower?”

Mingyu scrunched up his nose and looked you up and down. “Please do.”

The gentleman he is (aside from his earlier comment) led you to his bathroom and carried your overnight bag for you. “If you get tempted to use my soaps, help yourself. I know I smell irresistible.” 

“Get out of here,” you laughed. He does smell good, maybe I’ll have to take him up on that offer. 

You were just about to finish up your shower when you heard a faint knock on the bathroom door. 

“Come in! Sorry, did I take too long?”

“You’re fine. I just wanted to bring you a warm towel. I threw it in the dryer for you.”

“You’re amazing. Thank you.” 

The person who falls in love with Mingyu will have no idea how lucky they are. Hopefully they’ll treat him half as amazing as he treats you, and you’re just friends. Just a friendly self reminder. 

Stepping out of the bathroom and about to trail to the living room to get some sleep, you felt Mingyu’s arms wrap around your torso and pull you into his much taller, stronger and bigger frame.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Mingyu questions, almost as if you had done something wrong.

“The living room to sleep. Duh.”

He lowered his head closer to you, as if you couldn’t hear him clearly from his normal standing position, making your knees weak in the process. Still holding you, he spun the two of you around. “My bedroom is that way.”

“That was hot.”

“Yeah? You think so?” You could almost hear the smirk on his face, which means…

“Shit. Did I say that out loud?”

“You sure did sweetheart. Make yourself comfortable. It’s my turn to shower, I’ll be there with you in a bit… if you want.”

“Yes, please. I mean sure, if that’s cool with you. It is your bed. I don’t mind, if you don’t mind.”

Mingyu’s room was really nice, and his bed was huge and looked ridiculously comfy.  You just couldn’t wait to get in it, you knew the second your head hit the pillow you would be out for the night. It would be rude to fall asleep without saying goodnight, right? You thought to yourself. Climbing into Mingyu’s bed you realized you were right, it was comfy like you anticipated, and it smelled oddly like lavender, just like your own bed. You did happen to mention in passing to Mingyu that you purchased a lavender bed spray that was supposed to help you relax and fall asleep. It was possible that he decided to give it a try when he found out how much you liked it. You also noticed that off to the side of his bed, atop the nightstand was a white noise machine, similar to the one you have at home. Either you had more in common with Mingyu than you thought or he just paid really good attention to you. If the second option was the case, you didn’t realize how much you meant to Mingyu, which only made your heart race even more. 

“I didn’t know you liked white noise while you slept,” you noted as Mingyu climbed between the sheets.

“I don’t,” he replied before rolling over to turn it on. “I bought it because you were spending the night. The least I could do to thank you for your help was to make sure you were as comfortable as possible.”

“And the lavender spray?”

“For you.”

“Seriously, Mingyu. How are you still single?”

Mingyu rolled back over to face you and his arms found their way around you again and pulled you closer to him. Figuring it was okay, you rested your head on his chest. Just laying there listening to his heart beat. 

“I’m just waiting for someone very special and specific.”

You hummed in acknowledgement before starting to doze off in Mingyu’s arms.

~~~~~

The next morning you noticed the bed was significantly cooler than it was last night. Mingyu’s presence was significantly therapeutic and you found yourself missing it. Oh, this is bad.

“Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?”

“I think that was the best I’ve ever slept. Thank you for doing all of that for me.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You deserve the best.”

“I think I just might have to spend the night more often.”

“My door is always open for you, princess.” What’s with the pet names? You decided just to shrug it off, even though it made your head spin and your heart flutter. Oh, Kim Mingyu, you’re going to be the death of me.

~~~~~

In the kitchen you were greeted with the sight of a very domestic Mingyu, again. You watched and admired while he paced around the kitchen trying to throw everything together. There was still quite a bit to do for the evening but Mingyu couldn’t look happier. He was just glad that a few of his favourite people would be there to celebrate the holiday with him. Plus, he also looked adorable in his apron, so you wouldn’t complain one bit. You’d be lying to yourself if you hadn’t thought of husband material Mingyu once or twice in the past. 

“Alright, how can I help?”

Thankful for your help, Mingyu pulled you in for yet another hug. Is this going to be a constant thing? My heart can’t take much more of this. At this point it was a miracle that Mingyu couldn’t feel your heart race with the proximity of your bodies, you were sure that your heart would beat out of your chest any moment now. What you failed to realize though was that Mingyu also didn’t want to let go, but the knocking on his apartment door demanded his attention. 

Slowly, one by one his friends started to trickle in, making sure to say hi and introduce themselves to you. They all seemed very friendly, and you really wanted to make a good impression.

“It’s so nice to have another girl in this friend group,” Jihoon’s girlfriend Ava gushed, coming in to hug you. She seemed very sweet, you could see yourself turning into good friends. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. We’ve heard so much about you!”

You glanced from Ava to Mingyu, back to her, before glancing back to ask Mingyu, “you talk about me?”

“Talk about you? He doesn’t shut up about you.” Ava answered for him.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Jihoon panicked, pulling Ava off of you. “Let’s go help Wonwoo and Seungkwan set things up.”

Thinking they were out of earshot Ava tried to whisper to Jihoon. “Wow, Mingyu wasn’t lying when he said she’s really pretty.” It didn’t turn out that way though, she might as well have yelled it. 

“You think I’m pretty?” you teased.

“You have a mirror, don’t you?” For the first time since you met Mingyu, you finally caught the blush creeping up on his cheeks and his red ears. You couldn’t help but chuckle at how cute Mingyu looked when he was acting shy. 

“Let’s go play some games. I’ve got asses to kick.”

“Oh, you’re on.”

~~~~~

While Sackboy was a game that called for teamwork, Seungkwan and Mingyu seemed to have formed an alliance to try and sabotage you. Ava caught on pretty quickly and managed to talk Jihoon on backing you up against them. It involved a lot of throwing each other’s character off the edge and losing lives and slapping each other…in the game. Multiple levels had to be restarted. Thankfully Wonwoo got the boys to start playing properly so the night could go on, and you often got to the finish line first. Never against Wonwoo though, you knew he’d probably get to the finish line first, but your ego was well fed after coming first against Seungkwan. 

Seungkwan huffed out in annoyance, “Mingyu, your girlfriend cheats!”

“She’s not my -”

“Maybe you just suck,” you fired back. 

You caught Wonwoo leaning in to tell Mingyu, “she’s cool. I like her.” At least one of his friends tried to be subtle. But you missed Mingyu saying back, “yea, I like her too.”

Things started to die down a little bit more as dinner rolled around, but with Seungkwan’s competitive streak you all knew the peacefulness would be short-lived. Almost as if he could read everyone’s mind, Monopoly was dropped onto the coffee table.

“Alright, I want a rematch.”

Trying to remain calm, Jihoon rubbed his temples, almost as if Seungkwan pained him. “Dude, you’re embarrassing yourself. Just take the loss.”

“Yeah,” Ava whined. “We like her, don’t scare her off.” 

Mingyu was getting ready to step in and have Seungkwan back off and leave you alone but he found your hand on his knee enough to stop him.

“If he wants to lose, let him. Just know Seungkwan, this game takes a while so be prepared to suffer.”

Mingyu couldn’t help but enjoy that you and his friends seemed to be getting along so well. He also really enjoyed watching you absolutely destroy Seungkwan every chance you got. 

“My money is on Seungkwan,” Wonwoo chimed in as you and Seungkwan started to set up the game. 

“Thank you. I’m glad that someone believes in me.”

“My money is on you losing,” Wonwoo clarified. Maybe everyone else also enjoyed how things were going between you and Seungkwan. Mingyu didn’t realize that he stuck two of the most competitive people in a room together. 

Jihoon was the first to pull out his wallet. “Alright, I’m in.”

Seungkwan let out a groan of defeat as he fell backwards onto the floor. Jihoon used this sulking episode as an opportunity to divide the winnings amongst everyone that bet on you instead of Seungkwan. Which was everyone. 

~~~~~

The night had turned out amazing, as you expected. You found yourself really enjoying yourself and your new found friends. It was much nicer than spending the holiday at your own apartment and it was a nice change from your regular holiday plans. Which you made sure to tell Mingyu, you really couldn’t be more grateful that you had been so important to be included in this little tradition.

“Ava, did you make this pie?” you asked. “This is absolutely amazing.”

She blushed at the praise. It really amused you how someone could go from being so bold one minute to so shy and quiet the next.

Mingyu figured it was probably time to get involved with the conversations. He had been rather quiet the past little while just taking in his favourite people, and watching to make sure you were having a good time. “We’re convinced that’s the reason Jihoon is dating her.”

Jihoon just shrugged at his friend’s accusation. “Who doesn’t love free dessert?”

“You really like it?” Baked goods were Ava’s love language and it meant a lot to her when people could bond over good food. 

“I love it! Seriously, I want to climb inside and live in this pie. I think I want to marry the pie.”

This time Wonwoo was not so subtle with his next comment, “damn Mingyu, you’ve got some competition.”

At this point Mingyu gave up. There was no possible way that you didn’t know about his feelings for you. He wanted his friends' help on how to bring it up and what to say, but he didn’t expect it to turn out like this. 

“Yeah, I’m actually kind of jealous of the attention that pie is getting.”

Seungkwan jumped on the opportunity of embarrassing Mingyu. “It’s getting more attention than you.” 

“Seungkwan, be nice or I’ll kick your ass at another stupid game again,” you threatened. Mingyu couldn’t be more thankful that you were deflecting the situation away from him and not making him feel even more embarrassed and awkward than he already was.

The day started to fade bringing Friendsgiving to an end. It seemed like a good time to start cleaning up and gathering your belongings, you wanted to get home and rest a little bit before it got too late. 

“Are you leaving?” Mingyu asked, his voice laced with a hint of disappointment.

“Shortly, yeah. I just wanted to help get things cleaned up.”

“Oh, I don’t want you to leave,” he pouted. 

“What about me?”

“No, Seungkwan, I definitely want you to leave.”

“I feel like you’re picking favourites and it’s not me.”

Mingyu tried his hardest to get his friends to leave, but his friends seemed to sense his wish of wanting to be alone and spend more time with you that they took their time leaving. Except Jihoon, he was glad to finally be heading home and had to pull Ava off of you. 

“Mingyu give me her number, and don’t fuck this up.” On the bright side, at least his friends approved of you. But the big picture: did YOU approve of Mingyu? Could he be what you deserved? What you wanted?

Seungkwan said his goodbyes before gently (but purposely) knocking you into Mingyu, forcing him to catch you. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to push you under the mistletoe.”

“The what?” you glanced up and there it was, a very out of place decoration. “That’s the wrong holiday,” you noted, almost as if you were unsure. But you did know for a fact that neither you nor Mingyu put that decoration up. 

“I thought you two could use the push.”

Wonwoo could see Seungkwan’s life flash before his eyes, if Mingyu’s facial expression was anything to go off of.  “Dude, you better start running.” Seungkwan almost didn’t want to believe Wonwoo, but Jihoon did, and pulled their friend away, leaving Wonwoo behind with you and Mingyu. “I’m so sorry about him. I hope you stick around. It was lovely meeting you.”

You exchanged your goodbye with Wonwoo before turning back to Mingyu. Poor Mingyu, cheeks tinted red, so embarrassed and worried that his friends scared you and that he might lose you after his feelings were aired out so blatantly. This evening was supposed to be fun and relaxing, his feelings weren’t meant to be a part of it. He didn’t want to put you on the spot like that, it wasn’t his reason for inviting you over, he honestly just wanted you around. When he asked his friends on how he should go about telling you his feelings he didn’t mean that exact day, or even a day when they were around. Actually, they most definitely were not supposed to be there when he confessed his feelings. But here he is, forced to come out and say something. Mingyu’s trance was disrupted when he felt your hands work their way to the nape of his neck, forcing him to maintain eye contact with you.

“I lost you there for a second.”

“I’m so sorry about all of this, this is not what I expected. I don’t know what’s wrong with them. Are you mad? Let me grab your bag and I can walk you to your car.” Mingyu stopped in his tracks when he heard you quietly say,

“I would have kissed you without the mistletoe.”

“You what?!”

“Kiss her! Kiss her!” Seungkwan and Ava chanted from down the hall. Right. Mingyu was too wrapped up in his own existential crisis and didn’t make it back into his apartment. He muttered a quick “assholes” before pulling you back into the apartment, and making sure the door was locked and inaccessible from his nosey friends. 

“So, rumour has it, you have a crush on me?”

“Fuck it,” Mingyu sighed. “Yeah, I do. I have for a while actually. You were not supposed to find out this way.” You tried to reassure Mingyu that it was really okay, and figured he must have forgotten what you said previously about the mistletoe.

“Mingyu, I like you too, so much. You’re the most amazing person I know… as for the mistletoe.” you brought his attention back to the decoration. “We can’t break tradition, can we now?”

Mingyu watched as you stood up on your tiptoes closing the distance between the two of you. He wasn’t sure how to go about it, he hadn’t ever expected it to happen, but was relieved when you seemed to have everything under control. Despite trying to remain calm, cool and collected, nothing could have prepared him for what your lips on his would feel like. He couldn’t help the smile that came across his face and finally gained the confidence to return your affection back. When he realized you weren’t going anywhere he pulled you closer, silently hoping this moment wouldn’t end. Things only intensified when you ran your hands up his side and across his chest before stopping your hands on either side of his face and pulling away as Mingyu’s phone went off with a text notification.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mingyu.”

Seungkwan > did you kiss her yet?

Ava > how was it?!

    > also, we heard you, there’s nothing wrong with us

Wonwoo > except EVERYTHING

Jihoon > freaks

> I was talking about Ava and Seungkwan by the way

Ava > rude, enjoy sleeping on the couch

    > add her to the group chat

Mingyu chuckled and showed you the conversation, a silent ask if you wanted to be a part of that mess. You handed Mingyu your phone, you couldn’t be happier to be welcomed into the group.

“Oh no, what did I get myself into?” you joked.

[sunstone-smiles]

Don't Wake Up Angry!

Original request: Hi Sunstone! I’m a big fan of your Ace Attorney fics, so I’d love to see Phoenix waking up Edgeworth when he’s slept in too long for Day 9. Maybe because of his nightmares or having just solved a difficult case? Up to you! Keep up the good work! : )

Author’s note: Happy Day 9 (Yes, I double checked the calendar again, Lol) of Tickletober everyone! Here’s Day 9: “Wake up” from August’s Tickletober List! I hope you enjoy!

Series: Ace Attorney

Characters: Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth

Word count: 889

Summary: Phoenix needs to wake Edgeworth up so they don’t miss their dinner reservations; although, Phoenix needs to think of a foolproof method of waking him up where Edgeworth can’t get mad at him. Phoenix might have just the solution.

---

“Edgewooorth. It’s time to wake up.” Phoenix walks behind the sofa in the office. He peeks over the cushions to see Edgeworth lying on his back, eyes closed, breath soft, hands on his stomach—sleeping peacefully.

The man deserves the rest. Late night after late night, Edgeworth was working on a case that didn’t have a clear cut answer. It took digging through large numbers of police records and traveling across town to meet witnesses in order to find evidence against a shady defendant, who had the Judge wrapped around their finger by playing the shy little lamb card to the gullible, but kindhearted old judge. Eventually though, Edgeworth found an opening, cracked the case, and sent the guilty defendant spiraling in a breakdown all the way to the police station. And to celebrate all that, Phoenix offered to take Edgeworth to dinner.

After Edgeworth’s much needed nap, of course. As soon as the man removed his red wine-colored jacket and hit the couch, he was out. Phoenix left him to rest, but two hours have passed and their dinner reservations are closing in.

“Edgeworth, wakey wakey.” Phoenix gently shakes his shoulder. No response from the other man. He’s still preoccupied in his slumber.

Phoenix could let him sleep. He knows he needs it. But if he doesn’t wake Edgeworth up now, he might get a scolding later along the lines of, “Wright, why didn’t you wake me up?” Although, he might also get a scolding if he does wake him up. There’s really no winning here.

Although, maybe the best way to wake him up is one that makes it difficult to be mad. Phoenix gets the perfect idea.

He rubs his hands together like an evil scientist, then interlocks his fingers together before stretching his hands out in front of him. (Even with Edgeworth not watching, Phoenix still teases him). He flexes his fingers and positions them near Edgeworth’s sides.

The lawyer watches Edgeworth’s chest calmly rise and fall. With a smirk, Phoenix digs his hands into both of Edgeworth’s sides.

Edgeworth immediately jolts awake with a yelp from the initial surprise, followed by a bark of laughter once the realization of being ticklish hits.

“Wha–?! Wrihihihight!” Edgeworth tries to sit himself up and knock Phoenix's hands away from tickling him. “Whahahat are you dohohoing?”

“Waking you up. You’ve had plenty of time to rest,” Phoenix says with a smile on his face.

“Yohohohou couldn’t have given mehehehe five mohohore minutes?!” Edgeworth wraps his arms around his torso and tries to roll over to his side, still groggy from his nap.

“We both know that ‘five more minutes’ doesn’t actually mean five more minutes,” Phoenix teases and crawls a pair of his fingers to Edgeworth’s ribs. The prosecutor’s giggles jump and he rolls over on his back, providing Phoenix’s other hand the opportunity to access Edgeworth's ribs. Edgeworth squeezes his arms to his sides. As his giggles increase, a snort releases from the usually stoic man. He throws a hand to his face to hide his silly smile, but it quickly slides back down to his side to return for protection. 

“Was that a snort?” Phoenix can’t help but giggle. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that your snort is as loud as you snore.”

Now recovered from any leftover sleepiness, Edgeworth uses one hand to shove at Phoenix’s chest, while his heels dig into the cushions; his other hand attempts to push himself backwards. 

“I do nohohohot snore yohohohou liar!” Edgeworth attempts to regain an ounce of his intimidating composure.

Phoenix is unaffected. “Okay, so maaaybe I stretched the truth a little bit. But that’s what you say I’m always best at, right? Bluff until something sticks!” The lawyer punctuates the end of his sentence with a quick scribble into Edgeworth’s underarm, causing the other man to collapse flat into the cushions. Edgeworth’s head leans back as laughter cascades from his form and his legs kick behind Phoenix.

“Wrihihight! Thahahat’s enohohough!” Edgeworth shouts through his giggles.

“Alright,” Phoenix jokingly fakes a sigh, like a child who’s been told that it's time to go home from the playground. “I guess I’ve had my fun.” Phoenix pulls his hands away with a smile to allow Edgeworth to catch his breath. 

The prosecutor moves his hands to rest on his stomach and leftover giggles trickle from him with each exhale. 

Edgeworth looks up at the ceiling as the giggles fade to steady breaths. “Somehow, I feel more tired than I did before…”

“Don’t fall asleep on me again, Edgeworth,” Phoenix pats his knee. “We have dinner reservations to catch.” 

Phoenix stands from the cushions and grabs Edgeworth’s hand to help him sit up. 

“So come on,” Phoenix walks to the front door and grabs his coat. “Put on your jacket and let’s go. I don’t know about you, but I’ve definitely worked up an appetite,” Phoenix fixes his coat with a goofy grin in Edgeworth’s direction.

Edgeworth rolls his eyes, then lifts himself from the couch. He grabs his jacket, makes sure he’s presentable, and Phoenix opens the door for him, bowing like a chauffeur. Edgeworth shows him a smile, partially leftover from the wake up call, then heads out the door with Phoenix by his side. 

Edgeworth is awake and happy, meaning Phoenix's plan was a success! 

[kwanisms]

🎄 Tales from Camp Holiday Special 04 🎄

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➮ bartender!Jeonghan × fem!Reader wc: 8.1k summary: Jeonghan is at work when someone sits down at his bar on December 24th and turns around to find none other than Y/N sitting before him. genres/themes/au: angst (just at the beginning, I promise), fluff, smut; holiday themes; non idol au, bartender au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, mentions of mental health issues and traumatic past events, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist: @yoonguurt @wonw00t @aikisbbq @enhacolor @duchesskaren @sherituhhh @wonderfulshinee @gaebestie @drunk-on-dk @seokgyuu @salty-for-suga @aaniag @dnylwoo join my taglists: main | TFC: Holiday Special closes when part 7 goes up! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: I think Jeonghan's part was the most gut wrenching for me to write so I'm really excited to write another chance for him and Y/N. A chance for them to start over essentially! Thank you so much for reading! If you like this part, please reblog as it helps spread my stories around! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: unprotected sex (use protection lol), oral (kinda lol f receiving), fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, dom!Jeonghan, sub!Reader, Jeonghan is pretty pathetic and kind of impatient and he has to hold off from nutting too early 💀 multiple orgasms (f receiving, m receiving), creampie (yum), cumplay, orgasm denial (f receiving), overstimulation (m receiving), sex tape & pictures, and I think that’s all but as usual, if I missed anything, let me know!

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

The only thing Jeonghan hated more than his job was his job during the holidays.

Bartending wasn’t the greatest career choice but he did make a decent amount of money and it was only temporary as he finished getting his master’s. He just hated the rush and influx of customers that the holidays always brought. With more customers came more money but it also came with more complaints and more drunken idiocy.

“How was class?” one of his coworkers, Matt,  asked as Jeonghan stepped behind the bar, setting his bag down under the counter. “Exhausting,” Jeonghan replied. “I’m glad the term is over for the holidays.” Jeonghan moved around his coworker and to the terminal to clock in.

“They’re expecting it to be busier tonight,” Matt continued. “Busier than usual?” Jeonghan asked as he turned to look at him. Matt nodded. “The busiest night of the year,” he continued. Jeonghan snorted, shaking his head. “New Year’s Eve would disagree with you.”

Matt let out a chuckle. “According to Jerry, he thinks tonight will be worse than that.” Jeonghan shook his head, glancing over to the door where he saw a line of people waiting to be let in. “He always hopes it’s going to be busier every year,” Jeonghan replied. 

“It’s just wishful thinking.”

An hour later, Jeonghan was mentally cursing himself and wishing he could take his words back as they seemed to have cursed him in his willful denial.

Not only was the club packed but every order that came through the computer was complex with the patrons ordering some of the more complicated menu items. He was partially cursing himself for agreeing to work the night before Christmas Eve shift. He usually had it off to do Holiday stuff in favor of working on Christmas Eve but this year, he agreed to cover Analiese’s shift and she would cover his Christmas Eve one.

It took another couple hours for the flow to die down but Jeonghan was still busy manning the printer, making drinks for all the orders that came through. It was his preferred station, meaning he could just do his work without having to interact much with the customers. Occasionally, he’d have to make a few orders for the patrons at the bar but more often than not, one of the other bartenders would have that covered, allowing Jeonghan to work in peace.

“It’s calmed down a bit,” Matt said as he walked over to use the terminal next to where Jeonghan stood. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ve had to piss for like two hours. Can you cover the bar for me?” he asked as he started to untie his apron. Jeonghan looked up and nodded. It had been a few minutes since an order came through the printer for him to make.

“Go ahead,” he replied. “I got it.” Matt thanked him and took off, ducking under the open side of the bar and disappearing into the crowd. Jeonghan turned, putting on a fake smile as he greeted the patron closest to him, asking them for their drink order.

Mixing was one of the few skills he’d managed to pick up in his initial round of college; going to house parties and learning which liquors tasted good together as well as the ratios. He honed his skills over a couple years and eventually got his first bartending job at a small hole in the wall. He didn’t get to experiment much with that job as most people ordered wells and beers.

His second bartending job was at an upscale restaurant, mixing drinks like cosmopolitans and manhattans. It allowed him to be a little more creative. It wasn’t until he got to his current job that his creativity really started to flow and he started mixing things together.

Jeonghan finished making a round of drinks for a group of friends gathered around the bar as Matt returned, patting him on the back before grabbing his apron. “Thanks, man,” Matt called over the music as he tied his apron back on and went back to work.

The next couple hours went by as Jeonghan had hoped. The night started getting later, turning into the wee hours of the morning. The club had started to die down, many of the patrons drunkenly stumbling out the front door to find their rides home. Jeonghan was wiping down the counter when he saw movement from the corner of eye.

He glanced up and he was sure his eyes widened comically. His lips parted as he felt his breath suddenly catch. He stood frozen on the spot looking at the person who had just taken a seat at his bar. Someone he hadn’t seen for a long time. Someone he’d just brought up on a camping trip with 12 of his friends. Jeonghan finally found his voice, speaking in a low tone that only two people could hear.

“Y/N?”

You looked back at him, failing to prevent the grin that spread across your face. You hadn’t changed much. You’d matured a bit. You looked much more confident and certain of yourself. You looked incredible. Jeonghan threw a glance at his coworker who was busy making drinks down the bar from him. Jeonghan approached where you sat slowly.

“What’re you doing here?” he asked as he stopped in front of you, holding the towel in both hands tightly. Your smile shifted from amused to sincere in the amount of time it took Jeonghan to blink. “I was in town and decided to drop by one of my favorite places,” you replied. “Although, I didn’t know you worked here,” you added, giving him a once over.

Jeonghan’s cheeks burned. Not from embarrassment exactly. He wasn’t sure why he felt heat spreading across his face and down his neck. What the hell was wrong with him? He was never like this? Was it perhaps because he felt ashamed?

Ashamed of how he left you? Ashamed of never speaking to or seeing you again? Ashamed of leaving you after everything that happened that summer? He couldn’t pick a single reason for feeling this way so he chose to accept all of them at once.

“How long have you worked here?” you asked, pulling his attention from the depths of his thoughts. “Three years,” he answered instantly. “When did you get back in town?” You chuckled softly at his quick response. “Last night,” you answered. Jeonghan noticed Matt starting to approach where he stood and cleared his throat quickly, turning his gaze back on you.

“What can I get you?” he asked, making you look up at him through your lashes. “A Manhattan, please,” you answered, lips threatening to pull into a smirk as you watched Jeonghan get to work, making your drink. He tried not to make too much of a show, making the drink without the flashy movements he normally did to impress patrons and increase his likelihood of getting more tips.

Once he’d finished the drink, he set it on a bar napkin in front of you and watched nervously as you pulled the drink closer. He watched as you picked the glass up and brought it closer to your face, no doubt giving it a sniff before taking a sip and setting it down. “Do you want to open a tab?” Jeonghan asked, quickly beating himself up for his lame question. You shook your head, opening your clutch and pulling out a few bills before handing them to him.

He started to turn away but caught himself when you told him no change, he thanked you, ringing up the drink and cashing it out, putting the change in the tip jar on the back counter by the terminal. He turned back around and started wiping down the counter again, gesturing to Matt to keep his distance.

“So,” he started as you took another sip of your drink. “How long are you in town for?” he asked. You smiled up at him. “A while,” you answered coyly. Jeonghan felt his lips pull into a smirk. “A while, huh?” he asked and you nodded, lifting your glass to take another sip. Jeonghan tried not to watch the way your lips moved or the way you licked them after taking a sip.

“And you’re out this late because…?” he continued, trailing off. “I told you,” you replied. “It’s one of my favorite places.”

The conversation between the two of you continued, briefly interrupted by Jeonghan helping Matt make drinks but the majority of the crowd had disbanded by this point as it was nearing 2 in the morning. The club would be closing soon and for once, Jeonghan found himself wishing for his shift to never end.

He let out what must have been a millionth sigh because you chuckled, looking up at him, chin resting in your hand and your elbow resting on the counter as you stared at him. He’d made a couple more drinks, enjoying your company far too much and watching the way you would pull the cherry garnish off the skewer with just your tongue. He had thought maybe you didn’t realize what you were doing but on the third time, he noticed the way you held his gaze as you did it and he knew you were doing it on purpose.

“Long day?” you asked, tilting your head like a puppy hearing its favorite word. Jeonghan scoffed, shaking his head. “You have no idea. I’m ready to get out of here,” he replied. It was only half true. While his feet did hurt and he was ready to go home, make some ramyeon and enjoy the rest of the night in the comfort of his apartment, he wasn’t quite ready to part ways with you.

“You’ve been at this for a while,” you commented, the smile on your face faltering as you studied his appearance. “The perks of working full time and pursuing a master’s degree,” Jeonghan replied sarcastically. “I live in a state of perpetual exhaustion.”

You reached across the bar, placing your hand over his. “I can tell,” you replied. Jeonghan gave you a tired smile. “Don’t worry,” he replied. “These bags are Gucci,” he added, gesturing to the bags under his eyes from many nights spent doing homework and case work instead of sleeping.

You snorted, pulling your hand away. “Only Gucci?” you asked. “No Chanel?”

It was Jeonghan’s turn to laugh as he shook his head. “Gucci is more affordable,” he replied.

“Oh shut up,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Your smile fell again. “But in all seriousness,” you said softly. “Are you okay?” Jeonghan felt his heart skip a beat, thumping in his chest erratically. “Uh, yeah,” he replied, turning his gaze away. “I’m fine.”

“You just keep sighing,” you explained. “I thought maybe something was bothering you and if so, maybe you’d like to talk about it?” Jeonghan looked back, meeting your curious gaze. “What time are you off?” you asked suddenly, making him almost choke on his own spit.

Before he had a chance to answer, someone else spoke.

“I’m sorry, miss,” Matt suddenly said from beside him, making Jeonghan jump. “Shit, Matt,” he hissed, placing his hand over his chest, feeling his heart pounding. “You nearly scared the life out of me.” Matt chuckled, patting him on the shoulder. “Sorry, man,” he replied before turning to look at you.

“The club’s closing soon.” You nodded with a smile. “Of course,” you replied, picking up your drink and downing the rest of it. Jeonghan turned to Matt, jerking his head as if to say ‘buzz off for a second.’ Matt seemed to understand and walked away to the other end of the bar, leaving Jeonghan to face you alone.

“About what you said before,” he said softly, making you look up as you collected your coat from the back of your barstool. “I really would like to see you while you’re still in town,” he continued, catching you off guard.

“Wow,” you said in faux amazement. “The Yoon Jeonghan wants to see me again?” you asked, making him groan in playful annoyance. “Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he replied, giving you a grin. “I’d like to catch up while I’m not working,” he added. “Okay,” you confirmed with a nod.

“Okay, well what time are you off?” There was that question again.

“You mean tonight?” he asked, looking at you incredulously. You nodded, seemingly unphased.

“Why not? Got plans tomorrow?”

Jeonghan shook his head. “The club’s closed on Christmas,” he explained. “So I’m free all day tomorrow.” You smiled at him warmly. “Then I’ll just wait outside for you?” you asked. Jeonghan’s eyes widened. “It’s probably freezing out there,” he protested. You shook your head.

“Well, I can’t stay in here,” you replied with a chuckle. “I’ll just meet you outside after you get off,” you added, grabbing your clutch only for Jeonghan to reach across the counter and gently take your wrist in his hand. “Wait,” he said quickly. “Let me see if my boss will let you wait in here instead of out in the cold.”

Luckily Jeonghan’s boss was an understanding person and allowed you to stay inside the club as Jeonghan and his co-workers shut down the business. You sat at the bar, watching Jeonghan count his drawer and finish putting in his tips.

“So, where did you have in mind?” he asked suddenly, making you look up from your phone where it sat on the counter, playing a rhythm game. “I thought we could just hit up a pojangmachas around here,” you replied. “Maybe grab some food.” Jeonghan smiled, picking up the money drawer and telling you he’d be right back. He was only gone a few minutes but upon returning, he untied his apron, making sure to take everything from it before stashing it and grabbing his bag from under the counter.

You waited for him to exit the bar, watching as he called a parting to Matt.

Once he joined you at your side, you studied his face at a much closer proximity. “And maybe some soju,” you added, making him look up at you with a confused look on his face. “Soju?” he asked curiously. “Why?” You reached up to run your thumb over the apple of his cheek. It was a simple gesture but one that made his heart skip nonetheless.

“Besides,” you replied, pulling your hand away. “You look like you could use a drink.”

The two of you exited the club, Jeonghan calling goodnight to the bouncers at the doors as he passed. Outside, the temperature had dropped tremendously, a wet sort of chill in the air, one that made his sinuses almost burn from the intensity of the cold. It didn’t take long for the two of you to find a mostly street lined with various food stalls. Most of the stalls had closed up shop as it was now almost 3 in the morning. The only stalls left open were the pojangmachas, covered stalls.

You led Jeonghan over to one of the larger ones, thanking him when he pulled back one of the tent flaps and followed you in.

Inside the tent was much warmer than outside with multiple industrial space heaters placed inside. There were a couple folding tables with folding chairs as well as a cart where a middle-aged woman sat on a bar height chair with a thick cushion. She was reading from some kind of magazine as you approached.

She glanced up at the two of you briefly. “Go ahead and sit down and someone will come by to take your order.” Although her tone was polite, she said it with an air of indifference that screamed ‘I couldn’t care less if you complain.’

You did as she instructed, moving to one of the tables by a space heater and setting your clutch on the table. Jeonghan set his bag on one of the chairs and shrugged off his coat, his eyes moving towards you at the same time. He’d only just noticed what you were wearing and had half a mind to cover you up with his coat.

You were wearing clothes typical of clubbing; high strappy black platform pumps, a fitted silver dress with ruching on the sides and a halter neckline. The back of the dress was open, showing off more skin than Jeonghan thought comfortable, especially in colder temperatures.

You hung your coat on the back of your chair, moving to take a seat. As soon as your butt hit the chair, Jeonghan stood over you, placing his long coat on your lap. “Just in case,” he murmured before taking a seat beside you in an attempt to shield you further from prying eyes.

“What a gentleman,” you replied jokingly. Jeonghan rolled his eyes despite his cheeks starting to heat up again. He didn’t even have time to quip back with some witty comeback before a man with a bored look on his face approached the table.

“What can I get you?”

You glanced at the small menu in Jeonghan’s hands. “Some eomukguk,” you said, glancing up at the man. “And kimbap. What about you?” you asked, looking up at him. Jeonghan let his eyes wander the menu before looking up. “Kimchi-bokkeumbap, please. And some soju,” he replied, looking up at the man who nodded and walked away.

You took the menu from him to look over it closer, allowing Jeonghan the freedom to do with his hands as he pleased. He opted for resting them on the surface of the table, lightly drumming his thumbs on the hard plastic to a beat in his head.

Silence washed over the two of you making Jeonghan want to curl up and hide. He’d never felt so awkward in all his life. “Huh.” he heard you chirp in something akin to mild amusement and curiosity. “Hmm?” he hummed in response, looking at the menu when you showed it to him.

“They have dakkochi with cheese,” you whined, showing him the menu. Jeonghan chuckled as the man returned with a bottle of soju and two glasses. He brought two large bottles of water, setting everything on the table. Jeonghan caught him before he walked away. “Could I add to our order?” he asked to which the man nodded wordlessly.

“Could we get some dakkochi with cheese please?”

The man nodded once more, without speaking, and walked away. Jeonghan turned to find your gaze on him already, your expression unreadable as you studied him. “What?” he asked as he picked up one of the bottles and moved it close to you before opening his. You shook your head, looking down at the bottle and opening it to take a sip.

Jeonghan grabbed the bottle of soju, turning the label to read it before nodding his head.

He offered to pour your shot first and after twisting the cap off, he filled it to the brim, making you grimace. You glanced at him as he poured his own shot, not filling it nearly as much. “You did that on purpose,” you muttered, making him look up an expression of feigned innocence on his face.

“Did what?” he asked. You gestured at your shot glass. “There’s no way I can pick that up without spilling it,” you murmured, noticing the mischievous glint in his eye. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied, picking up his shot glass and waiting for you to follow.

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you very carefully picked up the shot glass. “Bottoms up,” he said before downing the shot with ease. You had a harder time, needing to move carefully so as not to spill any alcohol on you or his coat that was still on your lap.

You managed to swallow all of it, only spilling a tiny bit onto your hand which you quickly licked off and set your glass down. Jeonghan had noticed you licking the alcohol off your hand and his thoughts were suddenly consumed with images of your tongue running along the underside of his--

His thoughts were interrupted as the man returned, carrying the food you both ordered, setting it down on the table and asking if you needed anything else. Jeonghan shook his head, thanking the man who merely nodded and walked away. You smiled at the steaming bowl of eomukguk and immediately reached for a skewer.

Jeonghan started stirring his bokkeumbap, glancing over at your bowl before grabbing one of the small plates and spooning some of the rice onto it. He set it back down in front of you without a word and immediately dug into the dish. Your cheeks burned at the show of affection and thanked him softly.

The two of you ate mostly in silence, sipping on water and downing shots. The first bottle of soju went quickly and another one was brought to your table without you even needing to ask. You were happily munching on your chicken skewers when Jeonghan spoke.

“I never got the chance to apologize,” he started. You looked up at him. “It’s okay,” you replied after swallowing. “No, it’s not okay,” Jeonghan replied, looking back up at you. It was hard to miss the pain in his eyes. He must have held onto the hurt he felt he caused you all those years ago.

You reached across the table just like back in the club to place your hand over his.

“Really, Jeonghan,” you said, saying his name for the first time tonight. It sounded just as heavenly now as it did back then. “I’m okay. At first, yeah, I was upset,” you explained. “But I didn’t stew in it. I picked myself back up and I moved on. And sure, maybe I cried over it a few times but at the end of the day, we both knew that whatever was going on would end. We were young,” you continued.

Hearing the fact that you cried over him, over what he did, made his stomach sink. He moved his hand out from under yours and placed it on top. “I am so sorry,” he started but you shook your head. “It’s in the past,” you reminded him. “Stop living in the past. Focus on what’s happening now.”

Jeonghan met your gaze, your eyes flitted between his, looking back and forth as if searching for something specific in them. Something you hoped to see. Without speaking, Jeonghan raised his hand from the table, cupping your face and sliding his thumb over your cheek.

His heart nearly melted as you leaned into his touch. You were both startled out of your bubble by one of the men at the other table sneezing. It made you jump and Jeonghan pulled his hand back quickly, as if he’d been burned. He coughed a couple times before taking a drink of water.

And as you expected, he changed the subject.

“So, you didn’t tell me exactly how long you plan on staying in town,” he said quietly, glancing up at you.

You looked back at him, swallowing your food before speaking. “Just a while,” you replied. You gestured at the bottle of soju, silently asking if he wanted another shot. He shook his head. “What does that mean?” he asked. “What does a while mean?”

“I dunno,” you said with a shrug. “It means a while?” you added, glancing over at the only other occupied table, making sure they weren’t paying attention before grabbing the bottle of soju and pouring yourself a shot, shushing Jeonghan when he pretended to gasp. You quickly set the bottle down and reached over to slap his arm.

He raised his hand, pretended as if he’d been shot and made a face of extreme pain. You threatened to hit him again, cursing under your breath as he started to whine. You glanced over to see one of the older men at the other table look over his shoulder at you. You bowed your head in a silent apology before looking at Jeonghan who just smiled, laughing maniacally to himself.

“You’re such a menace,” you whispered. Jeonghan swallowed a gulp of water before fixing you with a perplexed stare. “I’m a menace?” he asked. “Look at you,” he added, gesturing at you. You glanced down and back up, shrugging and shaking your head as if to say ‘and?’

Jeonghan scooped up some more bokkeumbap, eyes moving back to meet yours as he opened his mouth slowly and took the bite. You looked away as he made a completely innocent thing mildly suggestive. “See?” you hissed. “Menace!”

Jeonghan covered his mouth as he chuckled before swallowing. “I just like to see you squirm,” he replied softly. “But really,” he continued. “You’re calling me a menace when you’re looking like that?” he asked, glancing up again. You met his gaze, heart skipping. ‘Was he… slut shaming you?’

“Don’t get me wrong,” he started, as if reading your mind. “You look incredible,” he added. “But god does seeing you like that make me want to do things to you.”

You weren’t sure if you were meant to hear the last part and upon glancing at him and finding him staring at you with a smirk on his face, you knew he meant for you to hear him. How did he expect you to respond to such a sexual remark? And more importantly, how did you want to respond?

The heat pooling in your belly spurred your decision to egg him on. See where he would take this.

“Oh yeah?” you asked softly, looking up through your lashes at him. “Like what?”

The smirk on Jeonghan’s face only faltered for a moment before growing. “Shall I tell you?” he asked, leaning forward as he propped his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand. He had a sort of dazed smile on his face as he stared at you with those dark eyes.

“Or should I just show you?”

╾───────────────────⭒✧⭒──────────────────╼

How you managed to keep your hands to yourself in the taxi ride back to Jeonghan’s apartment was beyond you. As soon as the elevator doors shut, he was on you in a split second, pinning you against the metal wall of the elevator, hands on your hips as his lips moved fervently against yours.

The doors dinged, announcing the arrival to his floor and Jeonghan all but dragged you out of the lift, steering you down the hall to the door to his apartment. He fumbled with the key, unlocking it after a couple tries, only for you to pull him in, shutting the door behind you.

You stood in front of the door, lips locked, tongues battling for dominance as his hands roamed your body and yours grabbed the lapel of his black wool coat. “Wait,” he murmured, pulling back to look at you, pupils dilated even in the dark room.

“I can’t let this go on without your consent,” he murmured, lips ghosting along your jaw and down the side of your neck. “I’m here, aren’t I?” you asked softly. Jeonghan shook his head, straightening up to stare you down yet again. “No,” he replied.

“I mean, yes. Yes you are here. But I need to hear you say it.”

You rolled your eyes before pulling him closer, lips brushing against his and making him pout when you didn’t kiss him. “I want this,” you muttered, brushing your lips against his again, making him chase your mouth, desperate enough for your kiss that he whined.

“I want you, Yoon Jeonghan.”

Your words had a profound effect on him and he groaned, backing you into the wall beside the front door.

“I’m sorry,” you heard him murmur, his body pressing you against the wall. “I’m so, so sorry.” You shook your head, tugging on his hair to make him pull back and look at you. “Don’t,” you said softly. “Don’t apologize. It doesn’t matter anymore,” you continued, looking up at him with glossy eyes. “You’re here now.” Jeonghan groaned, leaning back in, his lips crashing against yours.

You let out a groan as his hands moved down your body, fumbling to undo your coat. “I’m here,” he repeated, words muffled by your lips. “And I’m not going anywhere.” You shook your head as he failed to unbutton your coat. “Neither am I,” you replied.

Your hands replaced his, undoing the buttons one by one before you shrugged the coat off, letting it fall to the floor, leaving you in just the silver backless dress. Jeonghan grabbed your hips, spinning you away and pushing you against the wall, his hips pressing into your backside.

He slowly started to pull at the tie at the back of your neck, savoring the reactions your body gave him. He paused, lowering his head to press his lips against your shoulder, lips parting as he let his tongue glide over your skin before sinking his teeth into you.

You let out an almost pornographic moan as he bit you, spurring on the rolling of his hips against your ass as he rutted against you. His fingers made quickly work of your halter, untying it before his hands slid down your back to grab your hips, the material of your dress bunching under his hands.

He spun you back around to face him before his hands moved up to where you held the dress up to cover your chest. “Don’t hide from me,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss you, his hands moving to yours and pulling them away. The top of your dress tumbled down, stopping at your waist.

His hands moved up, cupping your now exposed breast, sighing as you arched your back into his touch, your hands tangling in his dark locks. Jeonghan’s hands moved back down, pushing your dress further down as he littered kisses all over your neck and collar.

You allowed the item to fall to the floor, stepping out of it as Jeonghan pulled you from the wall. Your hands slid down his chest, working to undo his slacks and push them down, stumbling over a forgotten shoe and giggling as Jeonghan grabbed your waist to steady you.

“Careful,” he hissed as you stood up straight. “I really don’t want to spend Christmas in the ER.” You leaned into him, pulling him into a kiss. “I’ll be careful,” you promised as you leaned against the back of the couch. You grabbed his shirt, pulling it up over his head and dropping it to the floor to admire his lean body. “You’ve been working out,” you noted as his hands tugged at your shirt, pulling it up over your head as well.

“Well, it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other,” he reminded you. “I’ve been going to the gym for a while.” You giggled as he pulled you up into him, kissing you as his hands settled on your hips. “I don’t think we’re going to make it to the bedroom,” he murmured in between kisses. You shook your head.

“No,” you replied. “We’re not.”

You giggled as Jeonghan leaned forward, making you both tumble over the arm of the couch, him landing on top of you. “You didn’t think this through, did you?” you asked as you tried to scoot under him. He shook his head before pressing his lips against yours.

“When did I ever think anything through?” he asked with a smirk before sliding off you and the couch, moving to kneel in front of it. “Sit up,” he instructed. You scrambled to sit up, giggling as he grabbed your hips, pulling you to the edge of the couch. “Don’t tease,” you whined as he kissed up your stomach slowly.

“I’m not,” he pouted before his hands moved back up to your chest, settling under your breast as he searched your face for any sign of apprehension. When he saw none, he continued. A loud clunk made your head whip around in the direction it came from.

“Eyes on me, angel,” you heard Jeonghan say softly, taking your chin in his hand and turning your head to meet his burning gaze.

“Good girl,” he murmured. You opened your mouth to retort but let out a soft sigh as you felt his tongue lave over your nipple. His hands still on your hips as he nipped at and teased the bud. Your back arched, pressing your chest further against his face making him chuckle against your skin.

You felt one of his hands run up your back as the other stayed on your hip. “Not so mouthy now, are you?” you heard him murmur and looked down to meet his gaze once again. “No but you sure are,” you retorted, making him laugh as he pushed you back. His hands slid down your hips to your thighs, pulling your panties with them.

You lifted your feet as he pulled them off entirely and tossed them aside, hands moving under your hips to pull you closer to his face. “It’s been a while,” he admitted, glancing up at you as you reached down to comb your fingers through his dark tresses. “You never did this before,” you replied. “Not for me, anyway.” Jeonghan cocked his head. “You sure about that?” he asked and you nodded.

“I went down on you,” you reminded him. Jeonghan shrugged, grip tightening as he leaned in. Without another word, you felt his tongue lick slowly and glanced down at him, finding him already looking at you with hooded eyes. “Holy shit,” you gasped, the sight of him alone making your walls clench around nothing.

Jeonghan chuckled more to himself as he broke eye contact to look down at your heat. “Doesn’t take much, does it?” he asked, referencing your already leaking slit. “I barely touch you and your body is ready for something to fill it,” he added, one of his hands moving, fingers tracing around your entrance.

He looked back up, meeting your gaze as he slowly sank his fingers inside you, burying them to the hilt as his lips parted. “So tight,” he muttered, looking back down as he pulled his fingers slowly until just the tips remained. He gingerly pushed them back in, watching as your walls sucked them in.

“So warm,” he added. You groaned as you felt them curl inside you, brushing against the soft spongy spot that had your toes curling. “So wet for me,” he added with a hint of amusement to his voice. Even years later, he was still teasing you the way only he could.

His pace was slow, too slow to build any tension but just enough to give you some friction. He could do this for hours and you knew he could. Even if your previous encounter had been nothing but rushed and the very definition of a quickie.

It was amazing he still managed to tease you like this, working you up so well years later.

Like no time had passed and he was a skilled and practiced lover.

“Shit,” you gasped as Jeonghan’s fingers plunged deeper into your heat. “Don’t stop,” you gasped, your hand in his hair gripping tighter. You wanted to move his face closer, wanting to feel his tongue on you but he held back, reaching up instead to grab your hand and remove it.

“I’d love nothing more than to taste you,” he started. “But ever since you sat at my bar, I’ve wanted to fill this sweet pussy with my cock more.” You groaned as he pulled his fingers from your cunt, leaving you clenching around nothing with a whine.

“You want to be on top or you want me on top?” he asked as he wiped his fingers on the blanket that had fallen to the floor with a mental note to throw that in the washer tomorrow morning.

“Surprise me,” you said with a smirk.

The moment the words left your lips, you regretted them. Jeonghan had you pinned down against the cushions as he guided the head of his cock to your entrance. “Shit,” he cursed, hesitating. “I don’t have a condom on me,” he murmured. “They’re in the bedroom. I could go get one--”

You took his chin in your hand. “Are you clean?” you asked, looking into his eyes. He nodded fervently before asking you the same. You nodded, letting go of his face. “And I’m on the pill. Just do it. Before we lose the moment,” you replied.

Jeonghan said nothing, instead pushing into you, a deep groan leaving his lips as he slid in easily. You let out a whimper, head falling back against the cushion as his cock slowly stretched and filled your walls. The stretch was more than you remembered but it wasn’t painful.

When Jeonghan stopped moving, you heard him whisper a string of curses.

“When I said you were tight, I didn’t realize you were this tight,” he hissed. You hiked your leg higher, allowing him to sink deeper, making him shut up with a moan as his head fell into the crook of your neck. “Shit, okay,” he breathed, his breath hot against your skin, a thin layer of sweat starting to form.

“Can you move already?” you whined, trying to shift your hips but he put his weight down on you. “I’m trying not to cum, stop moving!” he hissed. You whined, body going still under him as you waited for him to regain his composure.

Watching the way his brow furrowed as he held off his own orgasm was kind of cute in a way. You took in the way his hair fell around his face, the ends with a slight curl. The long hair was growing on you.

“Alright,” he finally said, raising his head, sweat beading on his forehead. “I think I’m good.”

You opened your lips to respond but your words faltered as he pulled back and thrust sharply into you, making you gasp as your walls gripped him tightly. “If you keep doing that, I’m not gonna last,” Jeonghan groaned, hips stalling. “We’ve barely even started,” you whined, moving a hand up to brush his hair back.

“I underestimated you,” you heard him whisper as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. “Feels too good,” he added, his breath hot against your skin. “Jeonghan,” you whined impatiently. He groaned as he raised his head. “Fine, fine,” he murmured, pulling out to thrust back slowly, setting a steady pace.

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he growled. You felt his fingers dig into your thigh, hiking your let up around his waist as he leaned deeper into his thrusts, the sound of skin against skin starting to fill the room. A thin layer of sweat started to cover your body, feeling equal parts sticky and wet.

Jeonghan pulled back to look down at you, his free hand moving to your face. “Don’t hold back,” he muttered, freeing your bottom lip from between your teeth as you had been holding back your moans. “There’s no one around to catch us this time,” he added with a smirk.

You let go, letting out a loud moan as you felt the head of his cock bump the soft spot inside your cunt. “Oh god,” you gasped, one hand moving to grab his arm, squeezing his bicep. Jeonghan took note of your facial expression and the fluttering of your walls and angled his thrusts, aiming for the same spot again and smirking wider as you gasped out again

“Right there, yeah?” he asked, his voice breathless. “Y-yeah,” you mewled, back arching as he hit the same spot repeatedly. “M’gonna cum if you keep doing that,” you whimpered, thighs squeezing his waist. Jeonghan surprised you by stopping completely, your orgasm ebbing away like the tide.

“What the fuck, Jeonghan?” you hissed as he pulled out of you completely. You tried to prop yourself up but squealed as he grabbed your arm, pulling you up and pushing you onto your stomach over the arm of the couch. You had no time to ask what he was up to when you felt him reenter you from behind, setting into a heavy and relentless pace immediately.

Your breath was knocked out of you with each powerful thrust, mewls and moans tumbling from your lips. “Oh, fuck, d-don’t stop,” you moaned, lips parted. Jeonghan growled, wrapping an arm around your chest and pulling your back against his chest.

“I should have had you like this before,” he whispered in your ear. “In my cabin. Not in some half rundown boathouse.” You let out a squeal as you felt Jeonghan’s cock plunge deeper into your cunt. “I shouldn’t have just left--”

“Stop,” you gasped. Jeonghan’s hips slowed. “No, don’t stop that,” you replied quickly. “I meant, stop talking about that.” You let out a moan as he resumed his merciless pace. “Right. We can talk later,” he groaned. “For now…” he trailed off, free hand slipping down between your thighs, fingers finding your clit with ease.

“I want you to cum,” he whispered in your ear. “Cum for me and then I’ll fill you up.”

Your walls clenched around him, your orgasm approaching as he drew you closer and closer with each thrust. “That’s it, come on,” he muttered. “Let go, angel.”

You let out a whine, feeling his hips stutter as you came, walls gripping him tightly. “Fuck, that’s right. Keep going,” he murmured, continuing to fuck you through your climax. “Good girl,” he said softly. You felt his grip relax, sighing in relief as he carefully set you back against the armrest, taking one of your arms and pinning it behind your back.

“Hold on tight,” he continued, his free hand gripping your hip, fingers digging into your flesh.

You didn’t get a word out before he started pounding into you, cries falling from your lips with each drag of his cock against your walls. “Fuck,” he hissed. You felt his cock twitch inside you, his own release drawing closer. “M’not gonna last,” he moaned, his grip on your arm tightening as he held you in place.

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, using your free hand to push yourself back against his thrusts. “Come on,” you continued. “Fucking cum.” Jeonghan let out a growl. “You want me to cum?” he asked. “Want me to cum inside you, claim this pussy as mine?” You nodded fervently. “Yes,” you replied. “Give it to me, please. Want it so bad!”

Your words seemed to do the trick, pushing Jeonghan over the edge as he came with a groan, hips coming to a halt as he buried his cock inside you, releasing deep into your cunt. “Shit!” he hissed. You pushed back, fucking yourself on his cock as he continued to pump you full of his cum.

“Shit, Y/N, stop,” he stammered, body twitching. “Fuck, babe, stop,” he repeated, letting go of your arm and holding your hips still. “Sorry,” you whimpered. “Felt too good.”

Jeonghan let out a breathless chuckle before leaning over your back, pressing a remarkably gentle kiss against your shoulder before pulling back and watching as he pulled his cock free. He leaned back to get a better look, almost smirking deviously as some of his cum started to spill out of you.

“Can I take a picture?” he asked suddenly, making your head snap up. “What?” you asked, looking back over your shoulder at him. “It’s just for me,” he added. “I want to remember this,” he continued, nodding down at your cunt. You contemplated it for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, go ahead.”

You felt him scramble off the couch, walking over to where his pants lay on the floor and pulled the device from his pocket, moving back behind you to presumably take a couple pictures.

You felt his hand on your ass, his thumb spreading your lips before his fingers moved, pushing into your cunt, making you groan. “What’re you doing?” you asked. “Pushing it back in,” he replied. “Some of it spilled out.”

You glanced back, seeing his phone still in his hand. “Are you filming this?” you asked softly and he nodded, tapping on the screen before setting his phone on the coffee table. “Sorry,” he added. “I couldn’t resist.” You caught an eyeful of his cock, standing proudly again.

“You wanna fuck it back into me?” you asked, making him look up to meet your gaze.

“Can I?” he asked, to which you nodded.

“Sure,” you replied. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere any time soon.”

You weren’t sure how you managed to go another two rounds with Jeonghan, each time ending with him filling you with even more of his cum but finally, he tapped out after moving to the bedroom to continue. You chose to hop in the shower, knowing his cum would slip out while you slept.

After cleaning up, you joined him back in bed and passed out.

The next morning, Jeonghan awoke to sunlight pouring into his room through the blinds and blinked himself awake. He rolled over, hand reaching for you but found the space you’d previously occupied empty. His heart skipped a beat, pounding in his chest as he sat up quickly, looking around.

‘Oh no,’ he thought as he scrambled out of bed, throwing off the covers. He was grabbing a clean pair of sweats when the smell of eggs met his nose. He pulled on his pants and walked over to the door that stood slightly ajar, pulling it open and stepping into the hall.

He padded down the hallway and into the living area where he found you, wearing one of his old oversized shirts as you stood at the counter. “Morning,” you said with a smile as you cooked. Jeonghan’s lips pulled into a crooked smile as he moved to sit at the kitchen island, watching you work.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” you asked as you stirred the contents of the skillet. Jeonghan shook his head, resting his chin in his hand as he watched you. “Nothing,” he murmured. “I could just get used to this.”

“Used to this? What, me cooking?” you asked with a snort. Jeonghan nodded. “And seeing you in my clothes,” he added with a chuckle. You rolled your eyes as you started to plate the food. Jeonghan heard the sound of a key in the lock and internally panicked. You looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I thought you lived alone,” you said as he turned towards the door and watched in horror as the door opened and Seungcheol entered, dropping his bag by the door as he looked up at Jeonghan, excitement on his face. “You’re never going to guess what happened to me last night,” he said as he walked forward.

“We got drinks and then- oh!” Seungcheol started, pausing when he caught sight of you in the kitchen in Jeonghan’s shirt. “Hello!” he added, glancing between you and Jeonghan. “Who is this?” he asked, looking at Jeonghan whose cheeks started to grow warm. He’d been caught, metaphorically, with his pants down and now he was going to have to come clean to his best friend and roommate.

“This,” Jeonghan started, glancing at you and then back at his best friend. “Is Y/N.”

Seungcheol smiled, looking at you before the realization dawned on him and his eyes widened comically. “Oh! Y/N?” he asked, turning to Jeonghan. “Like… the Y/N?” Jeonghan glanced quickly at you, noticing your furrowed brows. “The Y/N?” you asked softly.

Jeonghan forced an awkward smile, turning to you. “How would you like to eat breakfast in bed?” he asked with a pointed look. You glanced between him and Seungcheol. “O-okay,” you said, looking every bit as confused as you sounded. Jeonghan motioned for you to pick up the plates, saying he would follow shortly.

He turned to Seungcheol as you headed for his room.

“Don’t touch the blanket or the couch,” he said quickly. “I have some cleaning to do,” he added, starting for his room before stopping to look back at Seungcheol who made a face of disgust as he looked at the couch. “We’ll talk later,” Jeonghan added, pointing at Seungcheol who nodded.

Back in his room, Jeonghan shut the door and moved to sit beside you on the bed.

“Sorry about that,” he murmured as he took a plate from you and started to dig in, complimenting your cooking skills. You thanked him as you finished your bite and swallowed. “So,” you started, gathering more eggs on your fork. Jeonghan looked up to meet your gaze, a smug smirk on your face.

“The Y/N?” you asked, a hint of amusement in your voice. 

“Just how many people have you told about me?”

ⓘ Graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

[jrooc]

🥂AO3 Wrapped🥳

Thanks @energievie @sgtmickeyslaughter and @sam-loves-seb for the taggsss

How many words have you written this year? *167,280 (aprox. minus collab work)

How many works did you publish this year? My masquerade will be lucky 13 (kinda on the line of 'this year lol)

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

In My Veins Like Lightning

Infinite Runner

I was lost but your fool

Dear Gentle Gallavich Reader

New Personal Best

How many kudos in total did you get this year? 1,825

What work of yours has the most hits? In My Veins Like Lightning

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

In My Veins, A New Personal Best & I was lost but your fool

Favorite title you used? I was lost but your fool

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? Looollll I use a lot of song lyrics 😆 Maybe Bon Iver? Frank Ocean actually probably.

Pairing you wrote the most for this year? Ian/Mickey

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? Ian/Mickey

What work was the quickest to write? I was lost but your fool

What work took you the longest to write? In My Veins

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year? 2

What’s your longest work of the year? In My Veins

What’s your shortest work of the year? Wolverine vs. Gallagher

What WIP are you taking into next year with you? 0. I have to finish my stories or they'll eat me alive

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? Alternative Universe

Your favorite character to write this year? Evil Stripper Ian video game boss! I mean he fights from a stripper pole.. I'm still laughing at my own brain for that one! Also my OC Allie in IMV. The Irish mafia, Patrick, in IMV. Mickey in your fool. Infinite Runner dorky and passionate Ian. Cocky Mickey in A New Personal Best.

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year? Struggled with time constraints so both Infinite Runner Ian and Mickey but loved how they came together.

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year? Ian/Mickey 😅

Which work of yours have you reread the most? I was lost but your fool - I basically wrote it for me so I feel less pressure when I reread it to wonder about how others see it.

Which work has the most comments? In My Veins Like Lightning by a margin 😂

Did you do any collaborative works this year? Yupp, 3

Did you write any gifts this year? 2! Infinite Runner and If You Can't Stand the Heat for @gallapiech and @grumble-fish

Did you receive any gifts this year? Memoriam from Arrow and gifts from Mandi, Comet, Rayray Molly, and Jessie. And a great little drabble from Keely!

What’s your most common category? M/M

What do you listen to while writing? must have music. Like my IMV playlist

Favorite work you wrote this year? In My Veins Like Lightning and I was lost but your fool and some moments in Infinite Runner.. and fuck it .. If You Can't Stand the Heat didn't get a lot of love but I loved it

Biggest surprise while writing this year? How much people loved my stories. I'm not far off 3K kudos total and I never expected anyone to read anything of mine in the first place. So grateful for the support and the amazing friends I've made along the way.

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? This is wayyy too hard. I am proud of a lot of the dialogue I wrote but it'll be too long here.

"“I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, man. You feel like home. I want you to be mine.” He whispered into Ian’s skin.

It was quiet again and Mickey was sure the redhead had fallen asleep before he heard Ian speak like a secret into the silent room.

“You’re already mine.” " - I was lost but your fool

--

“No, you lose a ball or somethin’?” Case in point. “Like a shot-put ball. Or a Discus.” Ian explained, making it worse.

Mickey's eyebrows raised so high Ian thought they were going to levitate off his forehead. He snorted. “Oh, you’re a real smooth operator, ain’tcha, Budgie Smuggler?” - Read the full interactation at the bar in A New Personal Best

Tagging and sending a holiday cheers to 🥂:

@deedala only

Jk also @gallapiech

And then maybe for good measure @mmmichyyy @thepupperino @ian-galagher @lazystargazy @ms-moonlight-inn

@notherenewjersey @jessij1997 @suzy-queued @crossmydna @wehangout

@spoonfulstar @goodkwuestion @roryonic @blue-disco-lights @runninonemptyy

I'm missing ppl.. if you see this you’re tagged

[vee-beeee]

The Tent

Okay this is a change from dbh LOL

So im figuring out how to write for these characters, and its going to be harder because its 4 people so PLEASE forgive me.

Warnings: Tents, enclosed spaces with 4 boys

Chocobros x reader (can be taken as platonic)

Im sorry for any spelling errors or plot holess

SORRY IF THIS HAS BEEN DONE BEFORE

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

You woke up

And then wished you didn't.

It smelt like sweaty socks and boys.

Someone had shoved your back into their front, and was snoring VERY loudly. Another person had his socks in your face, sprawled out over what looked to be Noctis himself. So the case of the smelly socks was solved, that had to be Prompto. You didn't see anyone else in your line of vision, but guessing at how strong and muscular the arm around you was...

Gladio had turned you into his own personal teddy bear.

You gently tried to roll out of his grip, but he grunted and held on to you with a stronger grasp. You sighed and searched for another way out, you need air and to be away from this tent.

You briefly wondered if tickling Prom would wake him up so he could help, but you didn't really want to touch his feet.

So you sat, starting at the tent walls and daring to breathe through your mouth.

You thought about falling asleep again but whenever you tried, Gladio's snoring woke you up just as you were on the cusp of the dream realm.

What a terrible way to start your morning.

Finally, FINALLY you heard someone stir. You turned your body as much as you could in Gladio's grip and saw Ignis's hair over a massive leg.

"Ignis!" you whisper-yelled, hoping to get his attention. He turned around, sleep very much apparent on his face, and looked the entirety of the tent until his eyes caught yours.

"Miss Y/N?" He mumbled, raising an eyebrow at your position, Gladio crowding your back and Proms feet in your face. You had also felt Noctis was really close to your knees, you could feel his hair whispering against your skin. It was ticklish and uncomfortable.

Ignis huffed out a laugh, and you proceeded to beg him to help you.

"Why of course, Dear Y/N. However, I believe Gladio is going to kill me in his sleep if I remove you from his hold. I can help with Prompto and Noct however."

You sighed, sad he wouldn't even TRY not to get killed by Gladio. You watched him as he harshly rolled Prompto off of Noctis, and you were briefly worried that he would awake.

He just snorted and continued sleeping.

Ignis next went to Noctis to gently move his head away from your leg. Of course, Noct slept like a corpse so he didn't even notice. You took your chance to thank him, and ask a favor

"Can you leave the tent flap open I need air please."

Ignis nodded, and exited the tent, leaving the flap open. You started to bask in fresh air and morning light, but then the world turned upside down.

Gladio was rolling over, treating your body like you were an actual teddy bear.

He was now slightly under you, both arms surrounding you with the literal strength of a Titan.

And you were suffocating in his chest.

In ANY other scenario you would have been like "nice" . But in this one you could not breathe. And that was a problem. So you started gently saying his name.

Gladio groaned, but stayed asleep. You tried wrestling your arms out from his iron grip, but no use.

So you did the only thing you could think of.

Loud enough for him to clearly hear you, you poked the bear

"Ooo this book of gladios looks so good, im going to read it while eating chips and wipe my fingers on the pages and fold the edges to mark where i am. Surely he wont mind"

Suddenly you were shoved as his eyes shot open and he released you, sitting up to look around huffing.

"NO THATS MY COLLECTORS EDITION!" you breathed and rolled over as he looked around and found his book by his belongings.

Then he turned to you, brows furrowed and irritation clear on his features for 1. being woken up and 2. having his most prized book threatened.

"What the hell was that for?"

You moved onto your back and stuck your tongue out at him

"You were suffocating me in your pecs, I had to get free some how"

His anger faded into an embarrassed smile, and then a smug smirk.

"A lot of girls would pay real money to get suffocated in these pecs."

You rolled your eyes as hard as you could and he let out a hardy laugh, which accidently woke Prompto.

He snorted as he awoke, leaning on his elbows before asking "uh whats slo funmny?" and then promptly fell flat on his face, going back to his dreamless sleep.

You and Gladio stayed quiet before looking at each other and chuckling quietly. Gladio winked at you and turned to leave the tent. You watched his huge shadow as it moved across the tent, and then it disappeared.

After a couple of minutes, you heard Gladio and Ignis in the camp talking, and saw an opportunity to get more sleep. So you found your original spot and comfy sleeping bag, and settled in.

(A couple hours later)

You woke up, blinking your eyes slowly, feeling that you had gotten a good rest. You looked around and saw the Prompto had seemingly left, and you didn't see anyone else so that must mean Noct left too.

You closed your eyes again, resting them for a moment before you felt something moving around your front. You jumped and accidently smacked your elbow against the something. And that something groaned.

You looked down to see a mess of black hair nuzzling into YOUR blanket.

"Noct?" You leaned on your elbows and he looked up at you sleepily before groaning out a response

"you have the good blankets."

and then he was gone. But luckily, you had help to wake him back up.

Ignis had heard your surprised yelp, and knew it was time for Noct to get up. He had been chatting with Gladio and Prompto about how to pay for more car renovations, but that conversation could be put on hold.

Ignis grabbed a pot and one of his spatulas, before leaning down into the tent flap.

And then he started hitting them repeatedly together.

He saw you cry out and put your hands over your ears, and Noct just sat up slowly and glared at him.

Ignis smirked and left the tent when he saw Noct leaving, and you followed shortly after.

You watched Iggy put his utensils away and you went straight for the middle of the circle of chairs you all had put together the night before. Noct had just slumped down his camping chair when you started talking.

"Why do you guys love piling on me so much when we sleep? Like I wake up and your all over me."

You stood stalk still and waited for a response. You heard groaning and looked over to see Noct open one eye and looking at you.

"Smell nice and warm"

and then he was asleep.

Ignis sighed and walked over to shake him awake and you turned to see Gladio and Prompto nodding their heads. Gladio was the first to say something.

"I think he's right. Your a little babe space heater." You flushed, and he and Prompto laughed seeing your face.

"Yeah and you uhh, kinda smell a lot like roses." was Proms response, and now you watched him go red. Gladio slapped him on the back and Ignis chuckled quietly, continuing to try and wake Noctis up.

So your consensus was to buy more blankets, and an air freshener.

Fair enough.

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

THANKS FOR READING

I dont know if this is cringe or how I did, but I hope I did good on my first time writing these guys.

Hope you enjoyeddd

[mint-yooxgi]

For The Hell of It - Ateez X Tall!Chubby!Reader

Crack!Fic & Idol AU

Genre: Fluff, Humour, Crack

Pairing: Ateez X Reader

Words: 7,178

A/n: So, this was inspired by my own frustrations as both a tall and chubby girl and always seeing indicators about how “small” the reader is compared to the love interest in reader insert fics. It’s time to pin THEM against the wall! They swim in YOUR clothes!! Hehehe As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Disclaimer: This fic isn’t meant to ‘call anyone out’ if they use these tropes or do these things the reader rants a bit about to start. This is just me writing out some of my feelings and expression emotions surrounding my own frustrations. If you aren’t tall or chubby, you’re still most definitely welcome to read this! It might put some things into perspective for you, who knows! Also, as a reference, I'm literally as tall as Mingi, so that’s how I pictured heights in this lol there may or may not be smuts to come of this later in the future, but that’s still undecided. ;)

Summary: San finally gets to live out one of his fantasies... yet, so do all of his friends.

A Friday night unlike any other. Well, for the most part. You finally had an evening where all of your schedules lined up, so you agreed to spend the night drinking with the guys. They were all celebrating a successful tour wrapping up, and the start of a month long vacation to rest after their most recent comeback. You, on the other hand, are celebrating a promotion at work, with a generous pay raise to boot.

You’re just happy you can all find jobs that you love, and still find time with each other to spend hanging out. You haven’t been best friends for years for nothing.

“No, I’m serious!” You continue, noticing you have every single one of their gazes transfixed on you right now. “I can’t count the amount of fics I’ve read that someone has sent me where it’s supposed to be a second person point of view, only for it to say some shit like, “you looked up into his eyes” or “character tilted your head up to meet his gaze”. Don’t even get me started on the “swimming in his clothes” trope.”

The way you snort is echoed by both Yeosang and Wooyoung.

“Literally, it’s so annoying when you’re reading something, get almost fully immersed in it, only for the “he towered over your small frame” to get thrown into the mix.” You continue, gesturing at yourself with your hands to emphasize your next point. “Like, what part of me is small?”

You laugh, incredulously, and most of them can only blink at you in shock.

“Listen, if I want to imagine myself, I don’t know, sword fighting with Zoro, I’m definitely going to be eye level with him.” You rant. “I’m literally taller than he is!”

“You read One Piece fanfiction?” Jongho asks, a teasing glint in his eyes as he takes another sip of his drink.

“There is a serious lack of Shanks reader inserts, and I am devastated,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Wooyoung leans forward, a mischievous quirk to the corner of his lips. “So, then, have you ever read any fanfiction about us?”

Your eyes gleam, “wouldn’t you like to know, loverboy.”

Mingi snorts out a laugh, right alongside Yunho as Wooyoung pouts.

“My one friend sent me a Changbin size kink one once,” you recall, scrunching your nose. “Weirder when you know the person, but like, I’m literally double his size. Was hilarious when my friend tried to explain to me how that was supposed to work when there’s no way in hell he could ever make me feel small.”

“Okay,” Hongjoong leans back onto the couch. “Don’t need to know that.”

“I can’t wait to tell Binnie about this,” Wooyoung cackles, already pulling out his phone to text said male.

“Like, I know it’s not the worst inclusion issue that reader inserts have,” you comment, shaking your head. “Don’t even get me started on the descriptions of skin tone or hair type. Yet, it just gets so frustrating when every fic you read isn’t as inclusive to you as you’ve been lead to believe.”

“Write your own,” Yeosang shrugs, offering a solution.

“I do!” You reply, and you watch as nearly all of their eyebrows disappear into their hairlines. “Though, half of the time it’s easier said than done.”

They nod, seemingly in understanding as you continue to rant.

“Literally, for once I just want to read a fic where the reader pins the guys against the wall.” You take another sip of your drink. “Have him wear my clothes for a change, and see how he swims in my hoodie.”

You fail to notice the way both Seonghwa and Jongho shift slightly in their spots, both swallowing thickly.

“And don’t even get me started on a lot of the chubby reader type fics out there.” You sigh, shaking your head once more. “I’m more than just my insecurities, but that’s all chubby people seem to be known for. Like, I’m fat, not ugly.”

The guys all tip their drinks in acknowledgement at that, agreeing with you wholeheartedly.

“Do you know how venerating it was when Resident Evil Eight came out, and everyone and their mom started simping for Lady Dimitrescu? Confidence boosting to the max. The fics that came out of it were immaculate.” You lift your hands in front of you for emphasis, touching your pointer finger to your thumb.

“Oh yeah, Sannie boy had much to say about her,” Wooyoung teases, and you notice the aforementioned man turn bright red.

“Hey!” He reaches over to hit Wooyoung’s knee harshly.

“Boy wanted to be pinned to the wall so bad he asked me to do it for him,” Yunho chuckles, only causing the younger male’s blush to deepen.

“Did you do it?” You raise a brow, pure mirth dancing on your features.

“No,” Yunho chuckles, shaking his head. “I didn’t.”

“Neither did I,” Mingi adds, grin stretching across his features and causing his eyes to crinkle at the sides.

You turn to Seonghwa who just shakes his head in response.

“Wow, some friends you are,” you laugh, turning your gaze to a pouting San in the next moment. “Still want to be pinned to a wall?”

Suddenly, he can no longer meet your gaze, embarrassed sputters escaping his lips. Yet, he doesn’t deny it.

“Wait, have none of you ever been pinned to a wall?” You look around, seeing as they all shake their heads in response. “Received a kabedon by someone you like?” More denials fall from their lips. “Then, I’m assuming you’ve never been lifted against a wall, either?”

“Can’t say that I have.” Jongho grumbles, lips tugging downwards in the corners as if the thought greatly distresses him.

“Seriously, you guys are missing out.” You take a sip of your drink. “Though, can’t say that I have, either. In fiction, though, apparently I’m a goddamn feather.”

A brief moment of silence passes over all of you as you collectively take sips of your drinks. Then, you’re turning to look at San.

“Do you still want to be pinned to the wall?” Your brow quirks as you ask him this for the second time, noticing how more than just San shifts slightly in his spot.

He averts his gaze, suddenly finding the coffee table between you the most fascinating thing. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” you stand, stretching your back out as you do so. “Let’s go.”

His head immediately raises to look at you, mild shock pulling at his features. It’s most apparent in the slight way his eyes widen, lips parting as he meets your gaze.

“I’ll pin you to a wall if you want,” you shrug stepping out of the sitting area and cracking your neck. “I am taller than you, and as long as you’re okay with it-“

“No fair! How come San is the only one that gets to be pinned to a wall by you?” Wooyoung complains, quite loudly at that.

“Oh, my offer is open to all of you,” you huff out an amused laugh. “If you want.”

The way you see them all straighten has the grin on your lips widening.

“I can’t promise I’m who you want to pin you, but just picture it’s someone else if you’d like.” You shrug. “But I’m willing if you are.”

Wooyoung physically hops off of the couch before attempting to male his way over to you. Only, he gets harshly pulled back down into his spot by Yeosang in the next moment.

You quirk a brow.

“The offer was for San first,” Yeosang grumbles, and though he tries to hide it, his cheeks begin turning the slightest bit darker as a blush dusts his features.

“So,” you trail off, tilting your head slightly to the side, “is that a ‘yes’?”

Both Yunho and Hongjoong quirk their bros at you, while Wooyoung nods eagerly. At the way Seonghwa, Yeosang, and Mingi blush, you know you have them, too.

“Well, if you’re offering,” Jongho shrugs, tossing the remaining contents of his drink back as he settles fully into the couch.

Wordlessly, Mingi pours him another one.

“Make it sound like I’m forcing you, why don’t you,” you snort, rolling your eyes. “Just say you don’t want to do it. You don’t have to give in to peer pressure, bubs.”

“Oh no, I’d love to see this.” Jongho grins, a sudden gleam to his eyes.

“Well, I’m first!” San immediately pops up onto his feet.

You grin, “someone really is eager.”

“It’s only been the biggest fantasy of his for-“

A hand gets clamped over Wooyoung’s mouth curtesy of Yeosang.

If your eyes could go any wider, you swear that they’d fall right out of your head.

“How do you want me?” San asks, moving beside you near the wall.

“Those are dangerous words, Sannie boy,” you smirk, turning fully to face him and noticing how he glances up into your eyes. “This is all about your comfortability though. The second you want space, or anything, you let me know. Okay?”

“Okay,” he nods his understanding.

“Do you want a full immersive experience, or just what you signed up for?” You ask, taking a step towards him while he takes one back.

The sudden dark look in your eyes makes his lips part, excitement strumming through his veins. At the way you quirk a brow at him, he realizes he still has yet to answer you.

“Uh,” how is his brain already this fuzzy when you haven’t even done anything to him yet? You’ve been close before, San clinging to you more often than not. However, it’s just so much different when he’s on the receiving end for once. So much more intense.

“Immersive! Immersive! Immersive!” Wooyoung begins to chant, followed shortly by both Mingi and Yunho. Even Seonghwa cannot help but to lowly add in his voice to the chanting.

San swallows, licking his lips. “Immersive.”

A cheer rising up from the other males in the room greets your ears, and it only serves to boost your ego for the moment.

Again, you quirk a brow. “Ready?”

A nod is all the confirmation you get before you’re bringing a hand up to firmly press it against the wall beside his head. The sound of your palm making contact is synonymous with the way his breath hitches as he watches you lean into him.

Slowly, you bring your opposite hand up to rest your fingers lightly against his chin. Your eyes hood over as you lift his head to make sure he’s staring deeply into your gaze.

You shift closer, the corner of your lips quirking upwards.

San’s breathing deepens, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows again thickly. Briefly, his eyes dart down to your lips. A fact of which, you seem to notice.

“Quite a different feeling when you’re on the receiving end, huh, Sannie?” You lean in, breath ticking the shell of his ear.

A shudder wracks his entire body, goosebumps trailing up his arms as his chest just brushes against your own with each breath he takes. His lips clamp shut, suppressing the moan that wants to escape him.

“Do you want to wrap your leg around-“

The question hasn’t even finished leaving your mouth when you feel him lift his left leg to loop it around your side. Your hand immediately finds purchase on his thigh, and you can physically feel the way he trembles within your touch.

A chorus of ‘oh’s echoes behind you.

“Shut up!” San snaps, turning his head to glare at his group mates.

Unfortunately for him, the movement causes you to drop his leg, backing off of him shortly after.

San’s lucky to turn back around to face the others the moment you move off of him, for you fail to see the way he slaps the sides of his cheeks with both hands. The way he can feel his skin continuing to heat beneath his own touch only adds to the fire burning within his soul from these turn of events.

He knows you said he could picture anybody pinning him, but the fact that it was you somehow made it so much more intense. It was - you are - perfect in every way, and this has just made him realize that. How could you fit together so easily, like this was a position you had always been meant to be in with him?

The worst part is, it’s over, and he may never get to experience this type of euphoria again.

“Alright, who’s next?” You turn to the remaining males, not noticing the crisis San seems to be having against the wall behind you.

“Oh, me, me!” Wooyoung, again, eagerly pops up from the couch, only to be dragged back down by Jongho this time.

“I’ll go,” Yunho surprises you by standing to his feet. At the curious looks both Hongjoong and Yeosang send him, he’s shrugging. “What? I’m intrigued.”

“Alright, Beanpole,” you motion him over using two fingers in a ‘come here’ gesture. “You’re next.”

He mumbles slightly under his breath about you calling him ‘Beanpole’ again, stating how you’re no different, seeing as you’re practically eye-level with him. Though, with the way he eagerly steps over Mingi who still rests on the floor, you can tell he’s attempting to maintain his composure for now.

Finally, San walks back to his spot beside Seonghwa, almost as if in a daze. Only when the elder male pats the younger on the shoulder does he seemingly snap out of it. In the next moment, San sits back on the ground, pulling a pillow over his lap as he leans forward.

“If my back gives out, you guys are paying for my medical bills,” you casually comment, turning towards Yunho who leans against the wall.

“Are you planning to lift us?” Hongjoong asks, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Possibly,” you shrug. “Depends on if you want the full immersive experience or not. I’ve got ideas for all of you.”

“Oh, so you’ve thought about this before?” Yunho’s familiar smug grin begins to pull at his features.

“Not necessarily,” you hum. “It’s just more interesting this way.”

“Then, please,” he meets your gaze, “immerse me.”

The moment those words escape his lips, you’re in front of him. Your hands gently grab his waist, before stepping directly into him. Your brow quirks just as you hear his breath hitch.

“When I tell you to jump, jump.” You say, a playful gleam shining in your eyes.

He nods.

“Jump.” 

The moment your hands settle on the skin of his thighs, you press yourself fully against him. The way your chest feels rising and falling against his own sets his heart fluttering in his chest. Not to mention the way you quite literally have him pinned against the wall in your arms. 

His eyes are wide, breath hitching in his throat as the full reality of the situation comes crashing down upon him. Never has he imagined that he could be the one being held against the wall like this. The way your eyes shine as they continue to stare into his own only make it that much more intense.

Yunho swallows as he hears you giggle. 

Shit, he really wasn’t prepared for this.

“What’s the matter, Yuyu?” You tease, breath tickling the skin of his neck as you lean into him. “Tall girl caught your tongue?”

A few hoots and hollers are heard from the others as Yunho’s ears turn bright red. His lips part in answer, but no words escape him, too immersed in the feeling of your warm, plush body pressing against his own. The way that you’re suddenly slightly even taller than before as you hold him against the wall, his legs wrapped around your waist, has a pleasant shiver running down his spine.

A moment later, and you’re dropping his legs back to the floor.

You smile, patting the side of his gobsmacked face gently. “There ya go, beanpole. Now you know what it’s like.”

Turning around, you see Mingi practically rush to his feet. “Me next.”

You chuckle at his eagerness as Yunho slowly walks back to his spot, caught in a trance.

Just as San was before him, Yunho cannot help but marvel at the feeling of having you pin him to the wall. He never really thought about it before, and it was simply to sate that curiosity in his mind, but the fact that it was you, and that he enjoyed it immensely because it was you, is making his head spin.

He swallows thickly.

“Come on, Big Boy,” you extend your hand out to Mingi in offering, to which he gladly takes.

A giddy smile rests on his features as you guide him over to the wall. The eagerness you can sense radiating off of him is contagious, and you cannot help but to mirror his expression.

Your lips part in question, but Mingi beats you to it.

“Immersive.” He confirms with a firm nod, only causing you to chuckle lightly in response.

“I think it’s safe to say we all want the immersive experience right now,” Seonghwa voices, and you spare a glance back at the group to see all of them eagerly nodding at you.

“And here I thought I was touch starved,” you joke, a giggle to your words.

“Hey!” Wooyoung complains. “When you have a pretty lady offering to pin you to the wall, call us, and then see how you feel.”

Compliments from them, especially Wooyoung, are not unusual. However, something about this time feels different when he says this. Perhaps it’s the way he never breaks eye contact with you, or perhaps it’s the way you can just feel how sincere his words are. Still, it shocks you to your core.

You let out an amused puff, turning back to face the male trembling in excitement against the wall.

“Woah, there, Big Boy,” you grin. “Don’t be turning full Chihuahua on me.”

“Oh, leave the poor man alone,” Hongjoong joins in on the teasing. “He’s just excited.”

“It’s not like I’m giving him a lap dance.” You chuckle, stepping in closer as you watch Mingi’s face turn a bright red.

“Are you offering?” Wooyoung sounds just a tad too hopeful.

“Don’t even joke about that, Woo,” San throws the pillow in his lap at his friend.

“Yeah, cause you probably wouldn’t be able to hide your boner next time.” Yeosang deadpans.

A beat of silence.

Laughter erupts throughout the room as San turns bright red once more, stuttering out denials all the while. 

“You won’t be laughing when it’s your turn!” He shouts, pulling his knees up to his chest as a pout pulls at his lips.

“Hey, no judgement here,” you grin, raising your hand nonchalantly in his direction. “Huge confidence boost when knowing you can turn someone on like that.”

San sticks his tongue out in Wooyoung’s direction as if to say, ‘so, there.’ 

You chuckle once more, taking the time to casually lean against the wall right beside Mingi using your one hand. The way you see his whole body freeze for a moment as his breath gets caught in his throat has a smug grin pulling at your features.

“By the way, are we still on for movie night next week?” You ask casually, completely ignoring the male beside you for the moment.

“I swear, if you make us marathon Star Wars again,” Hongjoong jokingly turns to glare at Seonghwa.

“Oh, give the guy a break,” you comment. “It’s his favourite series.”

“Have you seen the new Lego Death Star that just came out?” His eyes light up, looking around hopefully at each of the males scattered around the room.

Yunho nods, somewhat aware of what the elder male is talking about as the topic of Legos is discussed.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Mingi finally calming down. Though, the slight pout that pulls onto his features has you leaning in to his ear.

“Don’t worry, Min, I haven’t forgotten about you,” you whisper, lips but a hairsbreadth from his ear. He shivers again, and you smirk. “Immersive, remember?”

In the blink of an eye, you’ve shifted your position to stand directly in front of the male. Your head is still buried in his neck, nose barely brushing against his skin as his breath hitches once more. Again, your hands settle on his hips as you lean into him, and he swears he can feel you smirking against the side of his throat.

The room goes silent, watching the scene unfold before them. The others seem just as caught off guard as Mingi is by your sudden shift in position.

Yet, why are Yeosang, San, Wooyoung, and Hongjoong suddenly all feeling jealous?

You pull away form Mingi’s neck only to move in impossibly closer. Your one leg slips between his own, nose brushing against his as the corner of your lips tugs upwards. In the next moment, you’re lifting a hand to cup the side of his face.

The way your thumb tenderly strokes along his cheekbone as you step away mirrors how your touch fades from his skin. A fact of which he doesn’t like all that much, body attempting to follow yours as you pull away.

“Someone likes attention more than I thought,” your voice is light, a teasing glint to your eyes as Mingi begins stuttering before you.

“You can’t blame the man,” Jongho takes another sip of his drink. “You’re acting hella intimate with us all of a sudden.”

“I said immersive, remember,” you playfully wink at the youngest, noticing how he hides the lower half of his face behind his glass in the next second. “If you don’t want it, I won’t do it. I told you, I’m not trying to make any of you uncomfortable.”

“Well, more for me, then,” this time when Wooyoung stands up, neither Jongho nor Yeosang stops him. “Make it as immersive as you’d like, Darling.”

“As long as you can handle it, Baby Boy,” the moment the words slip passed your lips, a chorus of ‘oh’s reach your ears again.

Just as Wooyoung happily bounds over to you, you notice Mingi trudging back over to his spot on the floor.

Mingi cannot help himself. He’s distracted, mind reeling with the revelations of the past events that he’s just experienced. The only problem is, now, he wants more. He wants you to hold him against the wall like you did Yunho. He wants you lean into him again, just like you did with San. Only this time, he wants to feel your lips on his own.

He shakes his head. What is he thinking? You’re one of their closest friends. He shouldn’t be thinking about all the other ways that you can pin him, and then how he can pin you to the wall. Perhaps, even to the bed…

“Oh, this is going to be good,” San shifts forward, eagerly watching as his best friend finally gets to experience what he did only a short while ago.

Wooyoung is eager. In fact, he’s the most visibly eager out of all of them so far. Well, that you can tell. He even goes so far as to reach out for you, back not quite pressed against the wall.

Before he can so much as touch you, though, you have his wrists in your hands, pinning him to the wall. You lean into him, body towering over his smaller frame as a choked moan manages to escapes his lips. From the way red begins to creep up his neck, you know that he did not mean for that to come out so suddenly.

“Did I say you could touch me?” Your voice lowers, head tilting to the side almost mockingly.

His eyes go wide, and you’re surprised how willingly he shakes his head ‘no’.

The corner of your lips raise. “Good boy.”

This time, the moan that escapes him is much louder than the first. You watch on in amusement as he begins squirming beneath your hold, hips shifting slightly against the wall as you keep the lower half of your body distanced from his. He whines slightly when he realizes you aren’t budging.

Behind you, the rest of the guy’s jaws drop.

“You were just waiting for this, weren’t you?” You hum lowly, feigning concern for his current state. “Desperately wanting someone to hold you like this against the wall?”

Wooyoung bites down on his bottom lip, nodding shamelessly.

You step in closer, and you can physically feel how his body melts into yours. You lean into his neck, lips ghosting the skin just below his ear. “Good boy.”

The moment you back away from him, Wooyoung lets out a whine in protest. As soon as you release your hold on his wrists, he reaches for you, but you easily dodge his hands. A chuckle falls from your lips as you see him pout.

“So,” Hongjoong’s voice draws your attention to his smirking features across the room, “you’re a domme.”

“What was your first clue?” You quirk a brow back at him, amusement dancing in your eyes. In the next second, you shake your head, noticing how Wooyoung begins to walk back to his spot in a haze, that pout still tugging on his lips. “When I want to be, I can do both. Not that any of you will get to experience either.”

“Not that we’d want to,” Jongho rolls his eyes playfully.

You point in his direction, “hurtful.”

“Never say never,” Seonghwa breathes, seemingly lost in his own world for the moment.

Your brow raises, mild surprise painting your features as he seemingly comes back to reality. The tips of his ears begin to go red once he’s realized what he’s just said.

“Well, I think our eldest here should go next, then.” Yunho claps the male on his shoulder, giving him a firm shove forward all the while.

“Yeah, come on, Hwa,” San encourages, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “It’s much more fun than it looks.”

“It looked to me like you were having a lot of fun, there, San,” Seonghwa’s eyes sharpen slightly as he pushes himself to his feet.

“I can’t watch,” Yeosang shakes his head playfully, standing to his feet and heading down your hallway in the next second.

Your eyes follow the movement, amusement shining within.

Seonghwa stepping towards you draws your attention.

“I’ve never been a fan of getting pinned to a wall.” He states, somewhat bluntly.

“I don’t have to pin you to the wall, you know.” You grin, nudging his shoulder lightly with your own.

“I thought the whole point of this was to ‘show us what it feels like’,” Jongho comments, placing his now empty glass onto the coffee table before him.

“There are other ways to encapsulate the same types of feelings,” you reply, placing a gentle hand onto Seonghwa’s shoulder.

“And just how do you plan on doing that?” He raises a brow curiously at you.

“Wrap your arms around my shoulders,” you begin, already moving to lean into him to prepare yourself for what you’re going to do. “I’ve seen videos of you guys doing this with each other, but,” you shrug briefly, “context.”

Seonghwa’s brow furrows, but he still does what you ask of him.

The moment you feel his arms wrap around your shoulders, you’re bending down and lifting him into your arms.

“Oh, Jesus, I wasn’t prepared,” you wobble slightly, now carrying him bridal style in your grasp. “How the fuck do you guys make this look so easy.”

“Are you saying I’m heavy?” Seonghwa pouts, resting quite comfortably in your arms for the moment.

“No, I’m saying I’m surprised my noodle arms haven’t given out on me yet without the wall for support.” You reply, a slight chuckle to your words.

“Should we start preparing those medical bills of yours?” Hongjoong teases, though you notice there’s a certain glint in his eyes that has never been there before. Well, not that you’ve ever noticed. A glint that has only appeared due to the fact that he’s witnessing you be so close with the others. Others that aren’t him.

“Hey, can I borrow a sweater?” Yeosang calls from down the hallway. “I’m cold.”

“Go for it!” You call back, shifting your hold on Seonghwa slightly as he peers out at the rest of the guys while still held in your arms.

“You know, you’re right,” he hums, nuzzling himself deeper into you. “This is quite nice.”

“It’s the old ‘Uno reverse card’,” you chuckle, setting him back onto his feet just as Yeosang comes meandering back into the room. “You don’t realize you want it until it’s happened to you.”

Yeosang stops just beside you, blinking at the way Seonghwa slowly returns to his spot. The way the eldest glances almost longingly back at you from over his shoulder while doing so does not go unnoticed by any.

Turning your head, you finally notice that Yeosang has opted to clothe himself in one of your largest hoodies. The material quite literally drowns him, the hem reaching the middle of his thighs.

“Now, this is what I’m talking about,” you motion to Yeosang’s body, nodding approvingly.

“Yeah, yeah, we all know you like Yeosang,” San rolls his eyes, cheeks puffing slightly as he rests his chin on his knees.

“First of all, I like all of you,” you reply, a playful snort escaping you as you smile. “No, I meant the clothing difference. This is what ‘swimming in their clothes’ means. It’s nice to be on the receiving end instead.”

“But you’re not the one wearing the clothes?” Mingi’s brow furrows, confusion shining on his features.

“You know what I mean,” you wave him off. “Literally, I can understand certain size kink fics now where the character fucks their love interest in their hoodie, and nothing but their hoodie.”

“Are you saying you want to fuck me in nothing but your hoodie?” Yeosang quirks a brow, a wide grin tugging at his features.

“Depends,” you hum in response, and you watch as Hongjoong spits out his drink, choking on the liquid in the next second.

“On?” He tilts his head curiously, blinking innocently.

“You wanna wear my thigh highs, too?” The way you see his eyes nearly bulge out of his head at your words has all of you bursting into laughter.

However, what you fail to see is how Yeosang goes quiet, cheeks flaring with colour.

“Well, this is certainly a game of truth or dare I never expected to get into.” Wooyoung cackles, tossing another drink back.

“I think we’re learning more about your interests tonight than in all of the years we’ve known you.” Yunho laughs, leaning back in his chair.

“You’ve never asked,” you shrug his words off casually, mirth dancing within your eyes.

“Who’s turn is it, anyways?” Yeosang grumbles, hiding his hands deep within the sleeves of your sweater.

“Yours.” Your response causes another round of heat to spread across his cheeks.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you notice Wooyoung nudging Jongho beside him. A male of which is clearly annoyed by the elder’s actions, but who nudges back, nonetheless.

“I don’t know how I feel about being pinned to a wall,” he raises his hands in front of himself in caution, backing away from you slowly. 

The way his hands are hidden by the long sleeves of your sweater has you smiling lightly.

“If you don’t want me to, that’s quite alright,” you reply with a nod in understanding. “Like I said, I’m not about to force you guys into something you don’t want.”

“Oh, believe me,” Wooyoung chuckles, hiding somewhat behind Jongho as Yeosang takes a threatening step towards the younger male in warning. “He wants it.”

“I’ll believe it when he says it,” you tilt your head in acknowledgment in Yeosang’s direction, meeting his gaze once more.

The room goes silent, all of you turning to look at Yeosang once more.

“Uh,” he blinks, turning to look at any one of the other guys for help. Only, the way they simply watch on in glee lets him know they’re not going to do anything.

“Welp,” you turn back to the seven guys seated around your living room. “Maknae, leader, which one of you is next?”

“I’ll do it.” Yeosang’s voice from behind you draws your attention to him once more.

“Oh?” The smug grin on your face says it all, and he swallows thickly.

“Not against the wall, though.” He replies.

“That’s fine,” you reply with a nod, walking closer to him in your next breath.

You motion him closer, and he steps into you quite eagerly. Though, he does attempt to hide it, he doesn’t do a very good job.

“When I tell you to jump, jump into me,” you whisper lowly into his ear, and the way you feel him shiver as you lean away from him has that familiar smirk tugging at your lips. “Jump.”

Yeosang hesitates only a moment before quite literally leaping into your embrace. Your hands come to settle on his thighs, pulling him closer into you as he wraps his arms around your neck.

“Kind of different when you’re on the other end, isn’t it?” You smile, eyes crinkling as you watch him nod, somewhat amazed for the moment.

The way you can feel him tighten his legs around your waist has you chuckling, turning back around to face the other guys.

“This is… different than I thought it would be,” he mumbles into your ear, chin resting on your shoulder as he buried his face into the side of your neck. “It’s quite nice.”

The way you raise you eyebrows in agreement says it all, that same knowing look shining on your features. 

Slowly, you lower Yeosang back to his feet, but he doesn’t release his hold from around your shoulders. Of course, you lean down slightly, allowing him to embrace you for as long as he wants.

“Another perk to it is simple things, like hugs.” You say, just as Yeosang finally pulls away from you.

Of course, you notice how he avoids your gaze now as he walks back to his spot on the couch.

“What do you mean?” Mingi inquires, knocking back the rest of his drink shortly after.

“Chest height.” You shrug, to which he immediately starts coughing at your answer. “What? You’re telling me you wouldn’t take full advantage of burying your face in your significant other’s chest if you could?”

You notice the gears in San’s head turning, before a devious look is shining in his gaze. “Does that mean I can have a hug, then?”

He starts to move, only for Hongjoong to reach over and quite harshly tug him back to the ground.

“Ow,” San begins to rub at his ass. “The fuck was that for.”

“You’re not as slick as you think you are,” Jongho rolls his eyes, standing up from the couch next.

“She didn’t deny it!” San counters, pointing in your direction all the while.

You shrug, “maybe next time.”

The way they all turn to look at you, eyes full of both mild surprise, but also excitement has you chuckling in response.

“If that excites you, you guys should all really try thigh riding,” you joke, and you notice how Jongho stumbles over his own two feet just before reaching you. “Oh, someone’s eager.”

“Shut up.” He grumbles, leaning back against the wall closest to you with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Is that a challenge?” You quirk a brow, turning fully towards him now as you take a step forward.

“I doubt you’re up for it,” he quips, the corner of his lips twitching upwards.

“You’re right,” you smirk, hand landing right beside his head as you lean into him. The way his breath hitches has your voice dropping slightly. “I’ve never really liked brats, but that doesn’t mean I’m not up for taming one.”

A mixture of loud, boisterous laughter, and pointed ‘oh’s can be heard from the others around you.

You huff, clearly amused by how silent Jongho gets. His arms fall to his sides as you step in closer, noticing how red begins to creep up his neck as he attempts to maintain his composure.

“What’s the matter, Baby Bear?” You feign concern, your nose brushing against his neck as you lean further into him. “All bark, and no bite?” He shivers as your breath caresses his skin. “Pity.”

His one hand moves to grab your hip, but you’re much quicker.

In the blink of an eye, you have his wrist pinned against the wall, your one leg sliding between his own.

“I wouldn’t try that, if I were you,” with the way your head tilts and the angle you find yourself in, you manage to be looking up at him through your lashes. 

Jongho has never felt smaller in his entire life. The position he finds himself in with you, combined with your words and the way your looking at him has him melting into your touch. So, when his body sinks slightly, allowing himself to rest on top of your thigh between his own, you let him.

The worst part for him, though, is when you pull away.

Jongho just manages to catch himself before he stumbles forward, not expecting you to release him so suddenly. He can only stand there, staring intently at the floor for a good thirty seconds in order to compose himself as you turn back to the other guys.

“Goddammit,” he curses lowly. “How are you so good at this?”

You giggle, and the sound fills the room with a vibrance unlike anything before. Yet, why are their hearts suddenly racing?

“It’s nothing more than the shock of your first time experiencing something like this, probably,” you shrug him off, proud smile pulling at your features. “Or you’re all just secretly in love with me.”

This time, it’s Seonghwa who spits out his drink in response, choking on his breath soon afterwards. Comfortingly, Yunho pats his upper back.

“I’m just playing,” you chuckle, arms crossed loosely over your chest as you shake your head.

“Seriously, you were right,” Wooyoung voices, staring directly at you while Jongho slowly moves back to his seat. “I never knew I needed this until now.”

“San was right to want this,” Yeosang corrects, shooting a brief look at the aforementioned male out of the corner of his eyes.

“I’m glad I could be of service,” you salute lightheartedly, two fingers pressing to the side of your forehead before letting out a small click of your tongue as you flick your wrist.

“Hang on, you’re not done yet.” Hongjoong stands to his feet, and immediately, there’s a sudden tension that fills the room.

“Never said that I was, Captain,” you wink playfully, and you almost miss the way he loses his footing just as he steps over Mingi for the moment. Though, you chalk that up to him simply misplacing his balance.

The moment he steps before you, a silence unlike ever before fills the room. All of the guys watch on eagerly to see what you have planned for their leader, and just how he will react to it, too.

“So, I take it you want the immersive experience?” You quirk a brow teasingly.

“Give me everything you’ve got,” he replies, breathlessly.

“I don’t think you’re ready for that, yet, mister,” you poke his upper chest lightly, noticing how he tilts his head upwards slightly to meet your gaze.

“We’ll save that for later, then,” he grins, noticing how you slowly begin to back him up into the wall.

“Who said there will ever be a later?” You hum, tilting your head slightly as you watch him lightly hit the wall behind him.

His breath hitches as he looks up at you through his lashes, the corner of his lips tugging upwards slightly.

“I just did.”

This time, when you place your hand beside his head, it’s slow. The movements are precise, keeping your arm straight for the moment as you casually lean into him.

“Oh, really?” You quirk a brow. “What makes you so sure that I’ll agree?”

Hongjoong smirks, his one eyebrow twitching upwards slightly. “I’m positive you’re just as curious as I am.”

“Am I?” You hum, taking a step in closer to him and noticing how his breathing deepens. “Curious of what? Are you sure you’re not just projecting, Joong?”

The way you say his name, your lips curving around the one syllable, is like music to his ears. He cannot stop himself, he goes to reach for you, a shameless whine getting caught in his throat.

Like every time before, you’re quicker. Only, this time, instead of pinning his wrist to the wall beside his head, you raise it, holding it above him as you lean over his entire body.

“You boys are very touchy tonight,” you tut, shaking your head as you lean the slightest bit more into him.

“Can you blame us?” He replies, staring up into your eyes. “This is the first time we’ve experienced a temptation like this before.”

The room remains deadly silent, as if the other seven are fully agreeing with the words Hongjoong is speaking to you right now.

“Yes, the heat of the moment can do that to people,” you chuckle, stepping the slightest bit closer to him so that he can feel your body heat against his own.

It’s slight, but you feel him arch forward in your grip, pressing his body flush against your own.

“We both know it’s more than just that,” his tone is low, sultry as he melts into your touch.

The corner of your lip quirks upwards smugly, pushing him flush against the wall.

“Is it really?” You feign innocence, leaning in to press your forehead against his own. Your noses brush. “I guess we’ll never know.”

In the blink of an eye, you’ve stepped away from him, releasing his wrist and letting it fall back to his side.

“Well, that was fun!” You chirp, completely unaware of how Hongjoong’s dark gaze never leaves your figure even for a second as you move to finally return to your own spot. 

He licks his lips, clearing his throat lightly. Taking a step back towards the seating area, he blinks, refocussing his vision. The sound of laughter reaches his ears, and you all continue on as if nothing happened.

Yet, how can they just act like nothing happened when you’ve fulfilled desires within them that they didn’t even know that they had? This has certainly made them all change the way they view things, especially the way they see you.

All that they do know, is that now, they want you. In ways more than just a friend should.

[wehangout]

Shameless DVD Commentary

The wonderful @i-think-you-mean-reduction asked for a DVD commentary on Suncatcher! This was the first time I'd read it since finishing, so that was a lot of fun, too! This whole thing got away on me, so hit that read more if you want to read more 💜 as usual, thanks to @callivich for starting this awesome idea!

Which fanfic is your DVD commentary about?

Suncatcher!

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

Okay, I started posting this in March of 2022, which leads me to believe I started writing it in 2021 (I'm on a borrowed laptop, so can't check). It took some time to finish because ~real life~ and word count hits 58,592.

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

Oooh, okay. This post. If you don't want to click, it's a text post saying "au where thief!cas tries to ride dean's dick and keep track of when his flashdrive is done stealing the contents of dean's computer at the same time". Obviously, that kind of scene never happened in Suncatcher, but vibes, you know?

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

Mostly Mickey because almost everything I write is Mickey pov. But I did experiment with this by writing those 3rd person Ian snippets, and literally the only reason for it is so the reader could be there for that moment of realisation when Ian figures it all out.

What was your favourite scene to write?

I don't know that I have one, but I really enjoyed the scene where Mickey asks Ian to come to Mexico. Getting to write them being soft, even just for a minute, was nice. And literally any of their flirty banter was fun to write lol.

How did you come up with the title?

I feel like this doesn't need an explanation, lol. I will say, though, I had three other titles in mind. I had "Denouement", "Encontrar", and "Atrapasol". Encontrar means "to find" in Spanish (because I knew it would end with them in Mexico), while "Atrapasol" means "suncatcher". At least, according to Google translate lmao.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice?

I did a reread in order to write this commentary, so, please, have a list of moments, foreshadowing, and references.

* Mickey's nautical-themed sleeve! “Sailing? Nah, man. I just really like pirates.” Get it? Because he's a thief? And pirates steal shit? Literally no one caught onto that haha * “Uh … growing up the way I did, I’m probably better at the B&E itself rather than tryin’ to solve it.” -- Mickey literally says this in the first chapter lmao * His mind doesn’t go over every detail of the North Side burglaries and he doesn’t obsess over the thief committing them. No thief. Just a bartender. Just Mickey. -- Um, hello? * “Never gonna give that up, are we?” “Never gonna live it down.” “Those aren’t the lyrics.” “Okay, lyric police.” -- 27 Dresses, thank you * Ahh, Mickey's blowjob tattoo. The amount of erotic tattoo designs I looked at for this, but nothing was right. Until Mitch 💜 * He snorts. “Clearly you don’t know many writers.” “I don’t. Should I?” “No. They’re the worst.” -- I'm dying 😂 * Well, this really has turned into a commentary, huh? Apologies. * "A little dry, to be honest." Chapter 3 and 9. Did anyone catch that?

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

The last two chapters. Life completely turned upside-down on me and I couldn't write a thing. Zero motivation, infinity depression. Then, at the beginning of this year ... I dunno. I don't know what happened, but suddenly I was writing again and I haven't stopped yet.

Favourite line in the story?

“Catch me if you can, motherfucker.”

“Two, I give you the keys to the cuffs and leave. But first I suck your dick until you come down my throat.”

“I’ll give you what you want, Red, you just have to decide what you want more; the thief, or his mouth?”

“I didn’t do anything,” he whispers. “You did everything, Ian.”

“Interesting,” he says. “I was already half in love with you by then.” 😭

“I’m gonna fuck you now. You know that, right?” You groan and drop your head. “You might just break my fucking heart if you don’t, Gallagher.”

“So long as that lover is you, Gallagher.”

Did the storyline change in any way as you wrote the story?

Yeah, but only chapters 9 and 10. Initially I was going to write Ian having a depressive episode and Mickey talking to him about everything while he was down, but I hated the idea. I didn't want it to seem like Mickey/the thief was the cause of his episode, and I also didn't want to use it as a tool. The idea changed into a possible attack on Ian, but that still wasn't working for me. So, instead, you got the scene with Mickey handcuffed and Ian asking questions. I switched the vulnerability around and made it way more fun.

If you are writing a particular trope or genre, was it your first time writing this?

Nah. A little crime with my romance is my go-to lol

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc)

Finishing it. Kidding. Kinda. Not really.

Actually, though, the dialogue and banter is pretty good. It reads very natural, so I'm proud of that.

Are there any deleted scenes that didn’t make it to the final story?

Only what I mentioned above. I wrote the attack on Ian, Mickey sitting with him in hospital ... it wasn't good.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a characters head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line?

Oh, the moment where Ian finds the camera and leaves it. He'd just heard Mickey tell him that he stopped watching before things got interesting, and that's what he's thinking about as he puts the camera back down with a smirk. About Mickey not stopping just as things get interesting. I had thought about writing it, too. A scene where Mickey doesn't close the laptop, working consent into it and Ian putting on a fucking show

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

I don't think so. I'm pretty happy with most of it.

Would you ever write a sequel to this story?

Kinda did. Wouldn't be opposed to doing more. All the cream pie banter I'm rereading is def giving me inspo for if I write more of them oops

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc?

I think I mentioned this in the commentary for Thicker Than Forget, but Jim Morrison/The Doors lyrics. I don't know, man, it just works for me haha.

Also the name thing - Gallagher/Ian/baby and Mickey/Mick.

There's also the line "It’s gone from bartender and customer having a bit of fun flirting and teasing, to silk sheets and Nine Inch Nails pounding through the speakers." - The NIN might be a reference to Help Me (Tear Down My Reasons) 😏 iykyk

Were you nervous or excited to post this story?

Excited. Probably more excited to post ch2, though, just for the reaction to Mickey being the thief haha

Did you have a beta or a friend who helped you as you wrote?

@whaticameherefor always 💜

Ask your followers to pick a snippet (no more than 500 words) and share your thoughts about it.

@i-think-you-mean-reduction asked for the scene where Ian asks Mickey on a date which I've pasted below.

A couple of notes on it:

The Riverwalk Cocktail Festival is a real thing in Chicago

I put a stupid amount of research into finding them the perfect date and this just fits.

Reading it back, I love that the Mickey doesn't think of the thief or anything to do with that shit once during this conversation. It's just two guys who like each other, and one's asking the other out on a date. It's just happy.

I think Mickey was so surprised that Ian was asking him out that everything he said and felt and thought was genuine. He even has a moment of "Fucking finally" that he doesn't mean to say, but 100% means.

I'm sad they never did it.

“Just my gut.” He pauses. Smiles. “Speaking of … in the interest of trusting my gut with my personal life as well as my professional life, have you heard of the Riverwalk Cocktail Festival next month?” Your heart skips a beat. Yeah, you’re heard of the fucking festival, and you can’t believe Ian’s doing this. “I’ve been a few times,” you tell him. “Sandy and I go under the pretence of work, and then get shit-faced.” “Okay, so do you maybe wanna go again?” He fingers go back to the coaster, but again he keeps eye contact. “But, you know, with me instead of Sandy.” There’s nothing romantic about the Riverwalk Cocktail Festival unless you go to the Riverwalk Cocktail Festival with romantic intentions. If you go with a date then it’s stupidly fucking romantic and you and Sandy used to talk shit about those assholes every chance you got, but … But the idea of being one of those couples, of going with Ian and having it be romantic … it makes you sick to your stomach how much you like the idea. “You askin’ me on a date, Gallagher?” He stares at you, eyes wide and honest. “Yeah.” “Fuckin’ finally.” You don’t mean to say it. You think it and you mean it, but you don’t mean to say it. Ian’s smile, though, makes the slip worth it. “So that’s a yes?” “Yeah.” “Good.” He smiles. Fucking beams. “Because I’ve already bought tickets, so I would’ve been kinda fucked if you’d said no.” “You already bought tickets?” “Some might call it presumptuous; I call it optimistic.” You shake your head. “Ian, man, those tickets are expensive as fuck –” “Doesn’t matter.” “Matters. At least let me pay you back for mine.” You already know he won’t let you pay for both of them. “Not a chance. This is me trusting my gut, asking you out, and feeling really good about it.” A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth. “Oh yeah?” “Yeah.” He smiles right back. “You wanna pull me out of that good feeling, the one I get when you agree to go on a date with me, by bringing up my money woes? Or do you wanna talk about our date and agree upon matching outfits?” “You better be fucking joking.”

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story?

So, as mentioned above there was a good chunk of time where nothing was updated. If you were someone who left a kudos or a comment or messaged me on here during that time, or even continued reading when I finally updated, please know it meant a lot.

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

Happy Ending | Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Note: This has been ghosting around in my head for some time now because of the song "Wallpaper" by Megan Cromwell. I noticed that whenever I don't have the pressure of a request in the back of my head for a story it's much easier to write. That's why I wrote this rather easily and quickly. I just wanted to post something again lol. So yeah, have some good ol' super dramatic angst. I'll be more active again hopefully.

Fandom: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (2022)

Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak, Unrequited Love, Mentions of NSFW Stuff, Trauma, Reader has some Issues

Summary: Ghost wants a happy ending but not with you.

Word Count: ~2k

If you want to be tagged in my stories send me a pm with the fandom/character name! Or comment on the fic :)

Masterlist

Call sign: Vigil

"We can't do this anymore."

You had known from the start that sleeping with him was a bad idea.

Generally, people advise you against sleeping with a co-worker. Because it makes things complicated. Even more complicated when you're both in the military.

Because technically you’re not allowed to fuck, your actions could be clouded by emotions, potentially risking not only your but the lives of your fellow operators as well. But that little clause in your contract was printed in that tiny font, and so you decided to ignore it.

It didn’t stop you from getting involved with your lieutenant. You were never a big fan of rules after all. Your rank as a sergeant after so many years of service in the military said enough about that.

But at the start, you truly believed that a physical relationship with him wouldn't cause trouble to you or anyone else.

You thought you had it under control. At least in the beginning.

Yes, you had been attracted to him since your first meeting when you had signed your contract with Taskforce 141. Mysterious men were your thing, and he embodied such a man with his skull mask.

So yeah, you did allow yourself to daydream about him, and have some dirty thoughts every once in a while. It wasn’t like you were the only one.

You were attracted to him and you knew he was attracted to you. It was mutual and actually pretty obvious.

You could feel his searing gaze on you just a few days after you had joined the taskforce; the way his eyes trailed up and down your body. The looks he gave you were charged with want.

But attraction doesn't necessarily lead to a romantic relationship, right?

He was a good-looking man in your opinion; tall, rugged, buff, with muscles and fat in the right places, just the way you liked it.

His face couldn't be considered conveniently attractive yet that made it so much better for you. The arch in his brows, the dark eyebags, the scars on his cheeks, his cheekbones. He was your type. And his rough appearance fuelled the fire in your lower stomach and your imagination.

What was the harm in joining him in the sheets and having a bit of fun? It wasn't like you loved him.

That’s what you had asked yourself.

It was much better to get rid of your pent-up frustration with him instead of a toy or a rare one-night stand when you were off-duty.  And damn, was he good in bed.

Rough, fast-paced, keen to try out every possible position, and not shy of pleasing you. You could've expected it. He was a man who wasn't afraid to get down and dirty. Dirt, blood, sweat, and other fluids... It didn't matter.

Short summary: It was pure ecstasy every time.

You two had lots of fun together in lots of different positions and locations, and that was all it was. Just some fun.

No strings attached, as you both declared at the start. Just fuckbuddies.

"I'm not a relationship kind of guy, Y/N" he had told you after you had spent your first time together.

You had snorted because shit, you weren't either. Both of you were too broken and bruised by the baggage of your pasts. Your traumas would probably weigh you both down in the long run. So you were fine with the line he had drawn between you.

It was okay. No emotions, no obligations, no lovey-dovey shit, just a means to an end.

Just a meeting in your room after a mission, a phone call on your days off, then a quick meet-up in a hotel. Just pleasure. Not love.

Until it wasn't just that anymore.

You two had settled into a routine where he would join you in your room late every other night.

After you had pleasured each other enough, he would leave soon after, and somehow - with time, you began to miss the warmth next to you on your bed.

The feeling came slowly creeping, and it took you by surprise.

You never asked him to stay; you didn't dare cross the line. To ask for a bit more affection. But you wished.

That he held you just a bit closer during the act. That he remained next to you just for a few more minutes after it. That he kissed your scars, your lips. That he touched you as if you were something, someone precious to him. Someone important.

Sure, you liked it when he treated you like an unbreakable object when his grip left bruises on your body - in a way, they satisfied your need for more. They marked you as his. But just for once, you wanted to be treasured by him. To feel that you meant something more to him.

You didn't know when your feelings for him had turned into a fluttering mess in your chest. He wasn't just a means to an end anymore. You valued him. Not just as a soldier who had your back. Not just as a friend. But as a man, a partner. A man you wanted close to you. For the rest of your life. No matter how long that would be.

Because Simon had done something no one else had been able to do before.

He made you wish. For a future. A future with him.

He made you wish to be better, to be a little less broken. To pick up the pieces that had once made you whole. You wanted to be better. A better version of yourself. For him. To have a chance to be truly happy. To get that fairy tale life others dream about – you once had dreamed about when you were younger, your shoulders lighter.

His attention made you excel, it made you stronger, faster, harder. You were just better when he was around. A better soldier, a better woman, a happier person.

And you thought, no, believed that he understood that. That he helped you to be better. That you needed him. Not just in your bed, but by your side. As your other half.

You both were people of few words, so you thought that through your actions, your eagerness during missions, and your gentle touches during your time together, you conveyed all these feelings. That he got it, saw how you felt about him.

But you never spelled it out. Never said; I've come to love you.

Just let these feelings simmer under your heart, hoping that one day he'd get what you felt for him.

"We can't do this anymore, Vigil."

You'd love to say that it came as a surprise when he, one day, called you to meet up and told you these words.

But you knew subconsciously. Felt it. Long before he actually said the words, they were coming.

His calls had been less frequent, his visits rarer, and to your confusion, his eyes began to look different whenever you saw him. They looked clearer, and happier.

Only after you saw him at the party after your successful operation in Chicago did you understand. He did look happier.

But not because of you.

And only then did you realize that your brain had played a trick on you. You were so consumed by your feelings for him that you didn't realize how big the rift between you two had gotten.

He laughed.

Simon Riley laughed heartily for the first time since you knew him. Not just one of his usual chuckles that he reserved for your or Soap's jokes.

No, true deep laughter that came from deep within his chest.

And all because of a joke that the woman next to him had told him.

You didn't know her; you had never even seen her face before. She was a complete stranger to you, and yet Ghost rested a hand on her hip as if she belonged to him. As if she was his fucking girlfriend.

Soap looked at you, then who you were staring at.

"That's Ghost's new lass, I heard. Can't believe that guy found someone before us, eh? Surprised me too, I tell ya."

His words were like poison, and you tasted bile in your mouth. So much made sense to you now.

"Why not? I thought you liked it?! I enjoy it every time."

"That's not relevant anymore. I'm just telling you, Y/N. This thing is done. I won't come here anymore."

"But-"

"Let's just forget this happened, alright?"

"...."

"Okay."

You hadn't even been able to argue. Or tell him your feelings.

After all, you were the one who said you could never be in a relationship with him or fall in love with him. It was pathetic to get back on your words and admit it in front of him.

So you just shut your mouth and accepted his words for the time being.

A tiny voice in your head whispered that you could tell him your feelings later when he calmed down a bit. When he started to miss you.

You knew the whole situation with Hassan was getting to him and the others, so you cut him some slack. You thought he would change his mind. Believed it. Blindly.

But now, here you were. Looking like a fool. Feeling like one. Being one.

And the thing was, you couldn't even say anything to him.

He was the one who made you happy. Who made you want to be better. Less traumatized, more whole.

You could see in his eyes that she was that to him. Not you.

So, what right did you have to intervene?

You wanted him to be happy, after all.

How could you deny him that? You both had gone through so much.

She seemed to be the complete opposite of you. She basically glowed in the room, her smile radiant, and her aura was light as if the world had blessed her to never know hardship.

Her frame was soft, and her skin unblemished, untainted by the cruelty and darkness that existed in the world.

You couldn't help but compare yourself to her.

Your cracks, the marks of your trauma, made themselves known through various scars on your body. Your hands were rough, covered with old blisters; so unlike hers, and you were all jagged and sharp edges, while she looked so cute and bubbly.

You could see her appeal, and it hurt to think that way, but in another world, in different circumstances, you could see her as your potential friend. She just had the appearance and aura of someone who people gravitated toward. A soothing soul.

In that sense, you could understand Ghost. Why he searched her side. But you fucking hated it.

As lovely as she seemed, right now in this bar; you couldn't help but despise her.

She took him from you.

A voice whispered in your head. The ugliness of that thought made you want to throw up, because didn't it prove that you weren't completely right in the head?

Ghost wasn't your property. He had his own free will, and just because she appeared didn't mean she stole him away.

After all, he never belonged to you anyway.

This was probably why Ghost didn't chose you, you thought to yourself. Your ugly jealousy and possessiveness were rearing their heads.

I wouldn't choose myself either.

You felt like crying, but you couldn't even do that.

You hadn't cried for years now, and although the pain in your heart was worse than any of the bullet wounds you had received during your career, not a single tear welled up in your eyes.

You were truly broken. And the man who could fix you wasn't at your side. He would never be.

You looked at the two of them once more. An ugly thing clawed at your chest, begging to get out. Your vision turned red. You clenched your fists.

You had to get out of here. Now.

"You okay, Vigil?" Soap asked next to you, noticing that you seemed a bit off.

"Yeah. I just- think I didn't turn my stove off. I got to go."

You mumbled before you turned around and hurried to the exit of the bar. Soap tried to protest, but you were out the door before he could even finish his sentence:

"But you just arrived- Damn... off she goes."

He sighed and looked towards that woman and Ghost. They made eye contact. As if Simon was already looking at him. Or you.

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 0.9

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

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masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

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age 27 // 3rd year - assistant physician

17th July

Barcelona, Spain

The buzzing of the phone in the middle of the night startled Cassandra. Not that she was sleeping. It was way too warm, despite the open window, but an ominous feeling took over her nevertheless as a late-night call rarely meant something good.

Sitting up straight in the dark bedroom, she rubbed her eyes and reached for it. Her heart picking up in pace only more when reading 'cool guy' on the display, though, worry getting replaced by excitement instead.

She swiped to answer, hushed but eager. "Tae?"

There was a beat of silence, then she heard his breath. "Hey, angel."

With just one simple, soft word she felt all the tension she'd been holding inside her body the past days dispel. She'd missed his smooth voice and closed her eyes, letting it soak through her.

Sometimes he'd still use the old nickname and call her 'Doc', but his new one surely was her favourite.

"Thought you might be out."

He heard something of a laugh leave his girlfriend. It was quiet, but it was still there. He was joking, of course and she knew that. It was easy with him after all, always had been. Even if they hadn't seen each other in a month.

"What, at 2 in the morning? No way."

Taehyung chuckled along and her eyes fluttered open at the sound of his deep chuckles, the room suddenly feeling lighter. She'd missed the sound of his laugh.

"Then, sorry for calling so late."

"It's fine, I couldn't sleep anyway," she told him honestly, feeling almost coy and suddenly very aware of her breathing. Her chest falling and raising steadily.

"Me neither."

Silence followed, and she felt a small twinge of panic. Did anything happen? Did he realise he had nothing to say? Please don't hang up, she thought desperately, holding as still as she could underneath the thin sheets.

"I bet I have you beat," he finally said, sounding somewhat amused. And she relaxed. "We were back by eleven. Yoongi was in a terrible mood."

"Oh, how so?" she smiled quietly, adding, "Sorry I'm whispering. I recently discovered I can sometimes hear the neighbours' talking from my bed so I assume they can hear mine as well."

"It's okay. I like it," he whispered back with a smirk, only to still when another question crossed his mind. "Wait, does that mean they heard us when.."

Her lips folded, stifling a giggle as she'd wondered the same thing when discovering that fact. "They might have."

"Oh." His embarrassed chuckle made her smile widen. Taehyung hummed on the other line then, musing for a moment. "Guess we have to be careful next time."

"Mhm. But anyway, why was Yoongi in a terrible mood?"

"He was trying to play it cool, you know?" Taehyung said then, groaning slightly. "Almost blew his cover."

Cassandra snorted softly. Yoongi wasn't exactly discreet when it came to hating their disguises, according to Taehyung. Him and Jimin arguing about it sometimes. It was quite funny to her, two grown men bickering like school kids.  

However, she held herself back from asking what disguise it was and why, knowing it'd be pointless to do so. 

"Hope he and Jimin didn't argue."

"They did, but already made up. They can never stay mad at each other for too long," Taehyung reassured.

She hummed. Realising him reaching out so soon again after their last call had to be a good sign as well.

"Mhm, I assume the job was successful despite that then?"

He huffed in mock-offence only for a boisterous smirk to settle on his lips. "Of course!"

Cassandra smiled to herself, pressing one side of her face further into the pillow.

It always felt nice to talk to him like this. It felt normal, as if they were never apart. As if he lived just across the city. After years of knowing him it was normal to her anyway. The only thing that had changed was the fact it was even more annoying now that they were in an actual relationship. When they were only friends it'd been a pity not hanging out as much, surely, but now it was simply insufferable.

"So.. it's safe to say you didn't really have fun tonight," she concluded then as a joke. Earning an agreeing hum from him.

"No," he simply stated then, "I was forced out and promised a good time, but instead I was surrounded by bickering and debauchery."

A dry laugh left her lips – loudly, unable to help it really. Forgetting about her neighbours possibly hearing her in the middle of the quiet night.

"I guess the latter is referring to Jimin."

"Of course. He made flirting with two hostesses at the same time look easy." Both burst out laughing before Taehyung's tone softened again."Should have been with you instead.."

She had to ignore that, she just had to, otherwise she'd end up doing something foolish like asking him to drop everything and fly over to her. She'd never do that, her pride never allowing that anyway. But she couldn't trust herself a lot after 1am so who knew, she might become weak if she cave into it.

"Pity," she replied instead with a much calmer voice, more appropriate to the late hour, "Did you force him to stop?"

"Had to, otherwise we couldn't have proceeded with the plan," Taehyung huffed out a laugh, "He probably would've had the time of his life right now if it wasn't for me."

A lie, they both knew. Taehyung had told Cassandra everything about his friend being head over heels in love with some other thief who crossed their paths sometimes. Cassandra always found the stories involving Arabella exciting and entertaining, much to her boyfriend's despise really. Of course, she understood his reasons hence why she'd try keeping her amusement over them at bay.

"He didn't think to share with you?" she teased as she stared up to the pitch-black ceiling.

"Me?" he asked, surprised, and for a second she worried she'd gone too far when he continued, "No, he knows I'm not interested in anyone but you."

There was the beat of a silence before both attempted to say the other's name.

"Tae -"

"Cas -" He rushed forward as she held back. "I've missed you." He breathed. "Saying that out loud just makes me miss you more."

Cassandra's heart felt like expanding, drumming against her ribcage. He kept his promise of being vocal about his feelings from now on and it meant everything to her.

She heard him laugh at himself then. Feeling silly. "Do I sound pathetic?"

"No," she insisted, eager for him to know. "No, Tae. I miss you, too." She wanted to tell him everything that had been on her mind, but over the phone like this felt insufficient.

"I called you because I wanted to hear your voice. I thought of you tonight and just wanted to -" He cut himself off with a sigh. "I wanted to pretend everything was normal."

"Everything is normal, what do you mean?"

"I mean actual normal. Like.. like we're a normal couple and I can just see and call you whenever I like."

Without realising, tears had welled up in the corners of her eyes when allowing his words to sink in.

Yeah, that would be nice but it is what it is, she thought. After all, she knew what she got herself into when allowing him into her life. And it wasn't like her own job would've allowed anything 'normal' anyway, with its irregular schedules or being on standby.

One single hot tear slipped away from her eyes then, getting absorbed into her pillow. She blamed the late hour for his voice and words making her so easily over-emotional.

And without realising it, a quiet sob croaked its way past her throat.

"Cas?" His voice laced with concern. "Are you crying?"

She sniffed and wiped her face. "Sorry. It's the late hour."

"No, don't be. I'm the sorry one. I wasn't trying to make you cry."

She took a moment to compose herself, annoyed at herself. Taehyung waited patiently, and when he heard her laugh weakly down the line, he added another, although seemingly unrelated, sorry.

"What for?" He had nothing to be sorry for.

However, Taehyung let out a low whistle. "A lot." A deep exhale followed. "It's hard."

"You mean us?"

"No," he was quick to response. Needing to dissolve any insecurities before they even arose in her mind, "It sucks that we can't see each other as much.. but no, Cas, being with you isn't hard."

Her cheeks were burning by now and it wasn't due to the 23°C and the stuffy air in her bedroom. She couldn't help but grin like an idiot, feeling all jittery for a moment before recalling his sullen tone before.

"What is it then? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really.. I mean, I do. Just not right now." She hummed, relating to that statement. Hearing his mattress move on the other line.

"Is that okay?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Of course."

"Right now I just want to feel close to you," he admitted bashfully, "And hear your voice."

"I want that, too," she said and the corners of her lips tugged into a gentle smile, pretending the warmth of her bed was him. They didn't even need to talk, hearing his breathing was enough. Just like when he was lying next to her.

"I've really missed you, like, a lot." He chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry. It's late, I'm all over the place."

"No, it's cute! Don't worry," her tired smile grew at the thought of his flustered expression, "We'll see each other soon. We'll be okay."

"We will."

His confirmation meant the world to her. For the first time in a while, she felt excited. She opened her mouth, her heart ready to combast, when she stopped herself instead. Something told her he already knew what she so desperately wanted to tell him; why else would he be on the phone with her right after a coup?

Instead, she fell into a comforting silence again with her eyes starting to grow heavy. Sleep began washing over her, until a noise and Taehyung's cursing made her jolt awake. And he laughed faintly.

"Crap. I just hit my head."

The bed moved again, and she imagined that she was there with him.

"Were you falling asleep?"

"Yeah, I think I was."

"Should we hang up?" She felt bad for keeping him up, not even knowing in what timezone he was, but she also didn't want the call to be over yet.

"Let's talk tomorrow."

His assuring tone caught her off guard as she knew how risky it was for them to talk too often or too long.

"You sure?" she grinned lazily.

"Yeah. We need to talk more. I can't take this any longer."

She was suddenly wide awake now. "Okay. I'm free tomorrow. Call whenever you want."

"I'll make sure it's early in the morning then."

She could hear the teasing grin on his face. Picture it, too. "Meanie. As if you'd be up early."

"Just joking."

She giggled faintly, feeling both, excited and relaxed. "I can't wait."

"Me neither."

She could almost feel his breath, wanting him close. Tomorrow, she reminded herself.

"I should go now. You need to sleep."

"So do you," she added with a light scoff.

"So, I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

She knew he was smiling, she could hear it all the miles apart.

"Yeah," she smiled back. "You will."

The phone call ended and she was about to put it away when a text appeared on her display.

cool guy (2.46am): btw goodnight :)

angel (2.46am): goodnight ♡

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3rd October

Cassandra wasn't sure what time it was, nor was she sure if her mind hadn't imagined things in her sleep. Still in a half-daze, she tossed her blankets away, hearing the persistent ringing again which had torn her away from a deep slumber.

The doorbell, she concluded so far. Brown eyes frowning when she took off her sleeping mask and trotted to the door in the dark.

Had she forgotten about an upcoming delivery?

It didn't even cross her mind that it wasn't daytime yet despite the darkness of her apartment. That was how she preferred to sleep after all, blinds all the way down. Besides, the days became shorter and it was raining endlessly, so naturally it was rather dark outside even in the morning.

Only when she unlocked the door and swung it open, she realised how off her assumptions were when in front of her was standing none other than Taehyung. 

Clothes entirely drenched, soaking wet from the pouring rain with pools forming around his feet.

Any sleep that had remained in her system was abruptly blown away, replaced by pure excitement followed by confusion and irritation at his slumped posture. Her lips eventually parted, causing him to flinch.

He was ready to hear her expelling him for showing up there in the middle of the night, when instead she grabbed him by his arm, pulling him firmly inside and closing the door behind him.

"Tae, what happened?"

Her words faded when she noticed his sulked expression underneath the hood. Almost hidden away by long streaks of dark hair sticking onto his forehead. 

It wasn't so much the question itself that completely unarmed him. He had expected it considering the randomness and time of this encounter and his abject state.

No, it was rather the concern in her eyes and the whisper of her voice that made him completely lose any remaining energy to deny it and instead made him tear up. And he almost knocked her off when wrapping his arms around her.

She smelled of almonds and flowers. Just like he remembered.

Startled, the young woman tensed for a moment when her hands instinctively engulfed her boyfriend's torso in a tight hug. Putting her all into squeezing him as much as she could. It was her way of showing him that she was there, whatever it was that he was struggling with. Not even caring the slightest how his soaked clothes were wetting her pyjamas.

She understood not to ask further. He'd tell her eventually, she knew. He always did.

Stepping back, she clasped his arms to take a better look on him. He swallowed, avoiding her worried glance. By now he somewhat regretted coming there in an impulsive moment, acting out the only clear thought in his chaotic mind.

He'd felt so miserably and pathetic, he couldn't even bare himself, let alone fleeing to Panama with Jimin and Yoongi - the next place where an object of interest was located at - after what had happened. Even if they had tried persuading him and ensuring him it hadn't been as bad as he had made it out to be. He was so upset with his own self, however, that he couldn't simply stand being alone either.  

And out of pure selfishness and immaturity he'd spent six hours driving from Marseille to Barcelona, to the only person he wanted to see.

Perhaps it was because Cassandra wasn't one of them but an outsider. Perhaps it was her sweet and campassionate nature. Or how she tried to see all sides and wasn't set on black & white views - and he needed someone like this in that moment. Someone else who'd essentially verify what his friends had been trying to convince him of.

But when he had rung the doorbell, two sudden realisations had hit him.

It was 3am. And she was a physician.

Now it was too late though. She was already standing in front of him with big questioning bambi eyes. The fact she hadn't flipped him off or cussed at him already would've been a miracle, if she was such a person. She wasn't, however, he knew that. And yet, he felt terrible.

Was he using her to make his pity self feel better? To calm his guilty conscious?

When she felt his arms growing tired and loosening around her, she placed a hand on his cold cheek. Carefully inspecting his face with a serious glare.

"Are you hurt?"

He only responded with a small shake of his head to assure he wasn't. It was enough for her. Her hands dropped and she helped him slip off his jacket while he stepped out of his shoes.

She grabbed his hand then and he silently waddled behim her to the bedroom.  

Only when she switched on the small cloud-shaped lamp on the nightstand did she see what time it was.

She had barely slept three hours and had planned to wake up in another six - enough time to properly rest and get prepared for her shift at 2pm - but now it seemed like she had to abandon that plan.

It was alright though, first she had to take care of her favourite patient after all.

"Wait here," she quietly instructed him and Taehyung willingly did as he was told. That was the least he could do in that moment anyway, and he watched her disappear into the hallway. Eyes wandering around her room. It was the same as he remembered it, only with a few more of his postcards on the wall. And he smiled, realising she had kept them all. Along with photos of him between her friends and family.

His heart clenched. The tiny voice in the depths of his conscience telling him yet again he didn't deserve Cassandra. And it only got louder after tonight.

He heard steps then, seeing her reappearing with two mugs and a towel. She rested the mugs onto the nightstand first, the hot steam prominent while rising from the tea she'd made them. He smiled.

She pointed at him then with a scowl. "You should take off your wet clothes."

He couldn't help but chuckle quietly at the suddenly demanding tone. "Is that a doctor's order?"

It was the first time he spoke tonight. Evident in his hoarse voice. And yet, Cassandra only huffed out a laugh at the fact it was a teasing remark out of all things. Of course.

"Not this time. This time it's your girlfriend's order."

His thick eyebrow arched at this. Liking the sound of the word whenever she was referred to as his girlfriend. "Is that so?"

"Yep. I don't want you to wet my bedsheets," she grinned, "If you wet my bedsheets I'll kick you out."

"You didn't mind your clothes though," he retorted, to which she shrugged unimpressed.

"I can always change those. But I don't feel like changing bedsheets in the middle of the night. And besides, it feels disgusting being in wet clothes. Doesn't it?"

He hummed, unable to counter something to her logic like so often. She was definitely not wrong about the disgusting feeling, although it wasn't only physically.

Quietly, he began pulling his hoodie over his head, remaining with a plain shirt and she stepped closer, placing the towel over his head. She held the edges together, framing his face with it. The adorable sight making her lips curl into a smile. She almost cooed but knew to suppress it, so instead her fingers began rubbing his hair dry. Her arms were completely stretched out to properly reach him, although he was already stooping to assist her.

Soon his brown irises disappeared behind his eyelids, the stern expression on his features softening. He hummed at the soothing sensation, lulling him more and more until he couldn't feel the motion anymore.

When she deemed it dry enough, she let the towel slide from his head. Revealing his tousled waves.

"How do you still look so cute even with messy hair?" she jokingly pouted. Earning a lazy smile from him. It was so easy for her to make him smile and he tucked at one of the curls falling from her loose bun then.

"You look cuter."

She puffed her blushing cheeks, dismissing his words as always. And he still found it both, endearing and annoying, how she didn't know how to properly react to his compliments.

"Drink the tea, it should've steeped by now," she mumbled then. Quickly making her way under the covers and choosing one of the mugs to try the tea herself. By the look of her face, however, he could tell that it was still too hot and he stifled a laugh at her grimace when putting it back down. "Okay, maybe wait for a little long."

He only hummed and attempted taking off the equally damp trousers when he unintentionally shuddered at the cold metal of his magnum brushing against his skin. Shoving the gun underneath his clothes as if he tried hiding it and Cassandra noticed, but chose not to comment on it. Already holding the sheets up beside her for him. 

"What about your pj's?" he asked worried.

"It's fine they didn't get wet. Just a tiny bit dampish. It'll dry off quickly."

"Oh, so I'm the only one doing a striptease here, huh?" he smirked before sliding under the warm bedsheets. Only earning an innocent pout from Cassandra as she rested her head on his shoulder. Her arm finding its way around his waist when his draped around hers.

"Aw, poor baby," her tone teasing as she lightly poked his flushed cheek, "But you were the one running around in the rain, not me."

Sitting now next to each other in her cramped bed, they grew quiet. Partially due to their tiredness, partially due to the elephant in the room.

Taehyung didn't mind her twin-sized bed, it made it easier for him to cling onto her like a koala, even if she always complained not being able to sleep that way. Secretely she liked it, it gave her some kind of security. Unless it was the middle of summer, then she indeed hated it.

Cassandra propped her chin onto his shoulder then, glancing at him expectedly. She noticed him licking his dry lips, eyes focusing on something invisible as he held her close. His fingers curling around her hip more as he was seemingly lost in thoughts, staring into space absentmindedly.

It didn't seem like he was ready to talk yet.

With a sigh, she lifted her head and turned to grab her tea and retry. This time the sip was in a much more drinkable temperature and she took another sip. Taking the other mug and handing it over to him.

"Be careful not to spill," she quietly said and he gladly accepted it. Despite feeling warm on the outside by now, there was still an internal coldness that made him shiver.

The tea managed warming him up, but the heaviness in his chest remained. And Taehyung sunk further into the sheets after drinking the last bit of it.

His throbbing head burying itself into the crook of her neck ans she stilled for a moment when he inhaled deeply. His warm breath tingling her skin. He sensed Cassandra's lips on his temple then when a delicate hand of hers reached to his still damp hair. Her fingers beginning combing the soft dark waves.

He smelled of falling rain.

It was a soothing sensation that clouded his mind and his eyes fluttered closed. Getting lost in the anew relaxing movement of her hand. It was steady, despite sleepiness slowly taking over her as well. And his body began feeling numb, falling asleep before his mind could. Taehyung was sinking more and more into his seat. His head slipping from Cassandra's neck and sliding to her chest and to her stomach. Settling there just between.

Cassandra was his save heaven.

With her he was in a bubble. She shielded him from his chaotic and dangerous life, providing him with something he had never believed he'd receive or even deserved. Something that also terrified him though.

She was his weak spot after all, his Achilles' heel. And his profession a threat to her normal life.

It was silent in the small bedroom except for the clock on the nightstand and the pit-a-pat of the falling rain against the window glass. Occasionally, a lonely car would pass by and the sound of splashing water was heard. Their breaths and her heartbeat underneath his ear soothing him even more.

"What if I injured someone innocent?"

The sudden whisper of his voice made her perk up and she began to understand.

"Is that what happened?" she quietly asked. Her fingers not stopping from gliding through his hair. "Did you injure an innocent passerby?"

He swallowed down the lump in his throat, turning his face towards the soft fabric of her pyjamas for a moment.

"Yes."

Cassandra hummed only, peeking down at him. She knew he'd open up on his own and she knew there had been a reason, but only now she grasped why he had been in such an awful state.

She had always been curious about his 'job'. Always wanting to hear heist stories and how they pulled them off. It was an odd fascination, the whole technical part. Whether it was illegal or not what they did, it was still a form of art to her - if done correctly.

However, as he always refused to give too much into her interest and instead kept stories as superficial as possible, for him now to tell her about a job on his own felt like an apology. A depreciation.

And perhaps it was just that. Perhaps that was the reason he had driven all the way there, because she was the only person who could grant him some kind of absolution.

Her knuckles brushed over the side of his agitated face then.

"How did it happen?"

Taking a deep breath, he collected his thoughts before continuing. He didn't want to speak it out, but he had to. He couldn't bare it anymore. "It happened so fast, but.. I should've foreseen it. It was my fault."

Cassandra remained silent. He wasn't sure if it was a good sign but she hadn't pulled away her hands yet.

"Why's it your fault?"

"It just is."

"Why do you th-"

"Because I'm the best shooter in the damn world!" His voice rose with frustration when recalling the incident and he abruptly heaved his head from her warmth. Cassandra tensing at this, startled. "I can aim and hit a target in my sleep, I should've - I should've -" He began stuttering, screwing his eyes shut. A deep crease forming between his prominent brows. Cassandra's face mirroring his pained expression, the corners of her lips pulling downwards. "I should've noticed that goon creeping up behind me and pushing me. I-I shouldn't have missed my target -" He choked up at this point, cutting himself off.

Her hand glided from his hair to his cheek, cupping it as she stared into his afflicted eyes and he swallowed.

"Cassandra, I.. I swear it was an accident - it was the first time - I'd never - Please, believe me."

He needed this. Needed to hear it from her. Needed to hear that she believed him, that she knew he wasn't a common criminal shooting at innocent people without a care. Needed her to confirm he wasn't a monster. Needed her to ensure him she wouldn't despise him, despite her own profession of saving lives. Needed her to forgive him.

Cassandra gave him a look of commiseration and trapped his flushed cheeks between her palms.

His guilty conscious had been visible from the moment she'd opened the door. She knew he felt terrible, she could feel how sincere he was. How much he regretted it. And she knew she was in no way entitled to judge people in situations she'd never gone through herself and went beyond her experience. Hence why it was flattering that Taehyung not only felt the need to tell her but was also concerned for her opinion on the matter. After all those years of knowing each other, she was truly his confidant. And the realisation warmed her heart.

"I've told you time over time you're not a bad guy. This was an accident, you didn't want it to happen," she softly spoke. Her thumb caressing his cheek in an attempt to calm him down. And it seemed to work, his guilt-ridden expression mitigating. His jaw unclenching.

"You truly believe that?" he asked quietly.

She nodded confidently. "I know it."

"It won't happen again," he confirmed. He planned to learn from his mistakes. Perhaps he should try mediating like Yoongi who sensed any threat from miles away.

"I know," she smiled. Her gaze falling then. "What happened to the person you accidentally shot though?"

He frowned. "We fled instantly, so I'm not sure. But I heard sirens of an ambulance in the distance, so I hope.." His index finger went to his hip. "I got him here, it's not a vital part, right?"

Cassandra knew that a hip injury by a gunshot was likely to cause complex peritrochanteric fracture. But orthopaedic procedures had an overall union rate for primary fixation of over sixty percent - which was pretty good. There was, of course as it was the case with all medical procedures, always a remaining chance for complications, however, she chose not to disclose the last part. Not wanting to make him feel worse. Instead she kept it positively vague, just like with patients and their families.

"He should be fine," she nodded, her smile widening, "It's not a life-threatening injury."

With the heavy burden being lifted from his chest, he slowly sank back down to her chest. Closing his eyes as soon as he heard her heartbeat and felt her fingers returning to his chocolate waves.

Cassandra had managed to calm him down like no one else ever could.

He wasn't used to this. To feeling so at ease. There in her warm embrace, with her fingers running through his hair, her chest rising and falling underneath him, her scent in his nose and her steady pulse in his ear, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Realising the reason she was the only person he wanted to see that night, the only person he wanted to ever talk about his heavy heart with and the only person whose words mattered the most to him, was as simpel as the answer to why he always kept coming back to her, despite the risk of getting caught by interpol.

Because he loved her.

»»»

next chapter: 1.0 here

Don't forget to like, comment & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

- btw any detco fans here who caught the shinran reference? 👀 hehe

taglist: @lilanyxta @naoolammao345 @memna234 @tetehion @myblacklilame

[fivie]

I keep thinking about how well grantaire and anna would get along (before she gets re-brainwashed)... i know you've moved away from spn canon with UMW but do you have thoughts on how your characters would theoretically interact with spn characters?

ah yes, the re-brainwashing was very unfortunate 😔

my main headcanon re. UMW characters meeting SPN characters is that if Enjolras and Grantaire met Sam and Dean, based on Enjolras's personality and him having the sword, they would absolutely assume he was the angel of the pair 😂 Dean would probably commiserate with Grantaire about the challenges of hanging out with a socially challenged angel, and Grantaire would absolutely go along with it. Then Cas would show up and be like 'hello brother 😐' and spoil his fun.

I think Enjolras and Dean would butt heads, but Sam and Combeferre would probably get along quite well. I hope the spirit of Victor Hugo can't see me typing this.

Ages ago I actually started writing a little crossover story just for fun but I found it really weird 😂 I don't know if I'll ever write any more of it so I'll put what I have under a cut here if anyone wants to read it lol

(it is definitely not UMW canon 😂)

Grantaire is in a long-abandoned barn in rural Belgium, idly sweeping up the ashy remains of the shapeshifter that had been terrorising the nearby village in the guise of a local cryptid legend, when Combeferre pops into his mind with a bemusing prayer:

Don't come back to my apartment right now.

Grantaire pauses, awaiting further details. If Combeferre were in danger, he's sure he wouldn't bother beating around the bush, so Grantaire isn't overly worried, but Combeferre has never told him to stay away before and so he waits, curious. A minute or so later, an even more bemusing continuation:

Or if you do, make sure you come in through the front door like a human would.

Sometimes Grantaire desperately wishes that the prayer communication line went both ways. Combeferre feels distracted, like there are many other things demanding his attention and he is snatching at quiet moments to send Grantaire fragmented intel. Finally:

Other hunters here.

With that, the pieces slot together. Grantaire personally thinks it would be kind of funny for him to drop in on a room full of Musain hunters, especially the ones who'd written him off as a drunken waste of space years ago, and he could always erase their memories after if it was going to cause problems, but he supposes that Combeferre's solution of just keeping him away for a while is simpler. He finishes his clean up and is just about to return to Jehan's house when Combeferre reaches out again.

Could use your expertise for this. Come back if you're able? But please be discreet.

Grantaire snorts. He thinks he'll enjoy having a conversation with Combeferre later about why it's okay to pretend that he's human to other hunters, but not to Enjolras or Combeferre himself. He's well aware of the difference and the reasoning, of course, but he does like watching Combeferre wrestle with a moral quandary.

Enjolras is here, too.

This last part sounds like a warning, and Grantaire supposes it is, and one he should be thankful for. He braces himself before flying back to Combeferre's building, going up the stairs with pointed emphasis and hoping everyone in the apartment can hear his very normal, very human footsteps approaching. He opens the apartment door, calling out a greeting, and he steps inside and the world stops.

The other angel in Combeferre's living room stares at him, his human face registering only mild surprise even as his luminous true form roils and sparks in shock and alarm and, of course, horrifyingly, recognition. Grantaire stares back for a wild, world-tilting moment, and then he flies in a mad flurry, grabbing Enjolras and Combeferre and taking them to the furthest side of the room, pushing them behind him. Combeferre, who had just expressly told Grantaire to be on his best and most human behaviour, calls his name in confused dismay, and Enjolras is saying something too, demanding to know what he's doing, and there are two other humans here too, making their own noise, but then—

"Hello, brother," Castiel says, and all the humans in the room fall deathly silent.

Grantaire doesn't answer. His hand instinctively twitches to curl around the handle of a blade not currently in his possession. He can feel the presence of his sword burning in Enjolras's coat pocket and he wonders if the split second it would take for him to get to it will mean fiery death for all of them.

Three thousand years, he thinks. Three thousand years he successfully kept his head down, and then Combeferre goes and invites another angel into his living room—!

"Aw no, brother?" one of the new humans repeats. Grantaire doesn't dare take his eyes off Castiel, but the human sounds exasperated. He also sounds American, which raises many questions but also answers the one of why they are all here and not at the Musain. Grantaire can only imagine the Musain hunters' reaction to Americans descending upon their home base. "Cas, are you serious?"

"He's pretty clearly serious." The other human puts himself in Grantaire's line of vision, stepping between him and Castiel with one hand raised placatingly. He's uncommonly tall and more than broad enough in the shoulders to be considered physically imposing by human standards, but his posture and expression are currently extremely non-confrontational—he looks nervous, and sort of concerned. He looks at Grantaire first but then, clearly finding no invitation in his stony face, tilts his head to look past him at Enjolras and Combeferre instead. "So, uh. Got yourselves an angel."

"As do you, it would seem," Combeferre says with measured calm. It's strange to hear him speak English. Out of the corner of his eye, Grantaire sees him take half a step forward and hisses back at him, "Don't."

"Hey, who are you? Do we know you?" the first human says suddenly. "Are you an old douchebag in a new meat-suit?"

"Dean," Castiel says in quiet admonishment.

"What? It's not like we can tell."

"You don't know him," Castiel tells him before turning back to Grantaire. "This isn't necessary. I'm not going to harm you or these humans. You should calm yourself."

"And if you want to harm Cas then we're going to have a problem," the tall human says.

Grantaire makes no attempt to calm himself. "Are you alone?" he demands of Castiel, whose vessel affects a faintly puzzled expression.

"I'm here with Sam and Dean," he says slowly, and Grantaire scowls.

"I mean," he says, "where is your garrison?"

"I no longer serve Heaven, Rachmiel," Castiel says in oddly gentle tones, as if he's just realised why Grantaire would be so horrified to see him.

"Do not call me that," Grantaire snaps with a sharp shake of his head. "You—what do you mean?"

"I am...fallen." There's a strange mixture of pride and shame in Castiel's voice as he says it. "My loyalties were tested and I found them to lie more with humanity than with our brothers and sisters."

"You…" Grantaire's mind, emerging from the initial shock, starts to piece things together, starts to remember. "I saw you. Last year. You were killing angels and humans. Hundreds of them."

"Hey, that wasn't Cas," one of the humans, Dean, starts to protest, while Grantaire hears twin sharp intakes of breath from Combeferre and Enjolras as they apparently make the connection between the God-Monster they'd seen on screen all those months ago and the mild-mannered man standing before them now.

"Look, okay, let's...We didn't come here to fight," says the other human, whom Grantaire assumes, through elimination, to be Sam. "It's complicated, okay? But Castiel is with us. He's not the bad guy. He's saved our lives more times than I can count and—hell, he helped us stop the apocalypse."

"Did he say the apocalypse?" Grantaire hears Enjolras mutter behind him.

"What did you two have to do with the…?" Grantaire looks at the two strangers properly for the first time and feels a fresh wave of hysteria. There is a lot to be read from their souls that he will unpack later, but most pressingly, he can see who they are—what they are. "You're the vessels." His undoubtedly wild-eyed gaze swings back to Castiel. "You're walking around with Michael and Lucifer's vessels? You brought them here?"

"Michael and Lucifer are both in the cage," Castiel says. "I do not expect they will be coming looking for their vessels."

"And they already know that they do not have consent to take either of us for a ride," Dean says with a grimly sardonic smile.

Grantaire's head feels like it's going to explode, which wouldn't kill him but would undoubtedly be very distressing for Enjolras and Combeferre to witness. He wills his vessel to hold it together.

"Grantaire," Combeferre says quietly—even that makes him jump. Combeferre speaks to him in soft, rapid-fire French that the Americans clearly do not understand and that Castiel politely pretends not to hear. "If he's really broken with Heaven, isn't that a good thing? For you to not be the only one?"

Grantaire casts a somewhat tortured glance back at him, not anywhere near ready to accept the idea that running into anyone from his family could ever be good, before looking inevitably back to Castiel, unable to keep his eyes from returning to the perceived threat in the room.

"It is good to see you," Castiel says, horribly earnest. "I believed you dead."

"Yeah, that was the idea," Grantaire snaps. Castiel tilts his head to one side like a confused puppy, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.

"You've been in hiding," he hazards finally.

"Pretty successfully, up until now," Grantaire says.

"Hey, just like Gabriel," Dean remarks. "You gotta wonder how many other angels flew the coop."

"Gabriel," Combeferre repeats in tones of disbelief that match Grantaire's own feelings. "The archangel? He also…?"

"Gabriel is dead," Grantaire says bluntly.

"Yeah, but he had a good run hanging out down here pretending to be a trickster god," Dean says with a smile that suggests not-so-fond remembrance. "What've you been hiding out as? Some other deity?"

There's an agonising sort of pause, and then it's Enjolras who says, not without bitterness, "A human."

Dean whistles. "That's a bold choice."

"Rachmiel," Castiel says, and Grantaire wants to scream. "Heaven will not hear of any of this from me. You and your humans are safe. Please. I—Here."

He puts one hand up as if in surrender while his blade falls from the sleeve of his coat into his other hand. He holds it up, slowly and demonstratively, before setting it down on Combeferre's coffee table and stepping back.

There is a very strange, very awkward moment where Castiel and his two humans look at Grantaire expectantly, waiting for him to return the gesture and disarm. Finally, Enjolras steps forward. He catches Grantaire's eye questioningly and, at his nod, takes Grantaire's blade out of his own coat and lays it next to Castiel's. Dean and Sam's eyebrows shoot up and Castiel gives a slow, considered blink, but mercifully all three of them refrain from saying anything about the matter.

[samyanggs]

can i request adam, eve and his sons with child reader whos sweet quite and loving but when they go some where they always randomly disappear out of nowhere lol

Ofc! Im not too sure about adams sons so ooc for them (I forgot they existed tbh..) I’ll try my best to write this! I saw this while doing homework and couldn’t wait to actually get to this. Sorry if this isn’t how you expected it to be, thanks for requesting!

“Where did you go?!”

Warnings: none (that I know of)

Ooc characters, requests are open however I’m still going to school so it’ll come late 😅 hope you like my writing, sorry if this wasn’t what you were looking for btw

Adam and Eve were already happy with their two sons but were delighted to have you, their third child. You were absolutely adorable and perfect in their eyes. You looked more like Eve but still had your fathers features. You were sweet, kind but quiet. Which made your brother pick on you every now and then. Adam, your father, always put them into line. Eve made sure you were healthy and clean, she enjoyed spending time with you because you were so sweet and kind. Once you were of age to be able to go out on adventures—around 8 to 11–, you were ecstatic. Your brothers always said that it was fun and exciting so you were happy to be able to go on some on your own.. if you could. Adam made sure to tag along with you every time you said you wanted to go on an adventure. It was getting annoying and old but he was your father and you couldn’t get mad at him for trying to make sure you were safe. So you did the next thing you could do, hide from him and wander off on your own. Of course this made Adam panic a lot because it happened most of the time and he couldn’t ever catch you, even with his eyes. After a while of panicking and searching for you, he would go back home only to see you there with a bunch of stuff that you collected from your adventure alone.

“Where’d you go without me?” He asked, worriedly checking your body for any injuries. You just shrugged in response and went back to talking to Eve.

“You’re gonna be the death of me one day..” he mumbled. You giggled in response and your brothers snorted. You gave him an apple to eat.

“For you” You said, simply, with your soft, pleasant voice. He thanked you and bit into it, spitting out the seeds as always.

[midmourn]

deja vu

title deja vu

pairing zhong chenle x gender neutral!reader

summary chenle’s new ‘thing’ is your clone.

characters zhong chenle, park jisung [nct] yang jeongin [stray kids] choi beomgyu [txt] shin ryujin, lee chaeryeong [itzy], kim minjeong [aespa], gender neutral!reader, gender neutral!oc

warnings angst, brief mention of death

word count 1798

author’s note reader is kinda unhinged lol but i love them. also i love chenle i swear!!! hes part of my bias line <3 btw if u have any requests; one shots, texts, reactions for dream send me an ask!!

The loud snap of the chopsticks made Beomgyu’s head turn to you uneasily, finding you staring off in the distance at something, eyes narrowed. He glanced from your clenched fist to the broken chopsticks to following your gaze, scoffing when he saw your ex-boyfriend with his new ‘friend’ walking inside Kwangya.

“Oh, you’re kidding,” he complained, staring at the two as they held hands, standing in front of Minjeong, the current hostess and one of your best friend’s. The brunette glanced between the two in disbelief before forcing a smile at the two and saying something.

“Oh, he has some fucking nerve,” you gritted through your teeth. Jeongin approached the table, sitting next to you and taking the broken chopsticks out of your hand as you continued to stare daggers into Chenle. If looks could kill, he’d be dead. “I was the one who showed him Kwangya! This was our place.”

“What a fucking loser,” Beomgyu snorted, watching as Minjeong turned to direct them to their booth, making short, wide-eyed eye contact with you three. You threw your hands up in disbelief at her as Beomgyu mouthed for her to trip Chenle.

Jeongin shook his head and pulled your attention to him, “Maybe Jiho was the one to pick the place.”

You scowled, “That’s his date’s name? Even if it was, he should’ve said no and picked something else.” You turned your head back to the couple, watching Minjeong slap their menus down on the table harshly. The two flinched slightly, Chenle looking slightly guilty while Jiho looked confused.

“I hate men,” you murmur after a moment of watching them, slowly turning to your food. You didn’t feel hungry anymore, pushing around the food with Jeongin’s chopsticks. “They suck.”

“Preach,” Ryujin commented, overhearing your comment on her way to another table.

“Uptown girl, she’s been living in her uptown world,” two voices belted out simultaneously, your head practically detaching from your neck at the sound of the familiar song and voice. Yet again, here was your ex-boyfriend with his … whatever, singing your song. You were the one who showed it to Chenle!

“Wow, the audacity of men,” Chaeryeong scoffed as she heard them, too. The two were in the music room, the same room you and your friends were going to go in a second ago, with Chenle playing the familiar tune of Uptown Girl on the piano to Jiho.

“Why I oughta—” As you started to walk towards the music room, Jeongin’s hand caught yours. When your eyes connected, he shook his head and you huffed, standing next to him again.

“He’s not even worth it,” Minjeong crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing him through the small window with disgust. “So unoriginal.”

“I hate him,” you seethed, feeling your nails dig into the palm of your hand when you noticed that Jiho was wearing his gray hoodie. You used to wear that damn hoodie he loved so much. It was practically yours, too. You suddenly wish you didn’t give it back after your break up. “I bet he tells Jiho he loves them in between the chorus and the verse. Ugh!” You felt a flood of emotions hit you all at once, similar to how it had been happening since your break up three weeks ago. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Y/N, wait—” Minjeong tried to stop you but you waved her off, ignoring your friends’ looks.

You couldn’t believe that Chenle would use your couple things with another person. But it seemed like a lot of things were being revealed when you were no use for him anymore. Your heart clenched as you forced back an onset of tears and slowed your pace back to your dorm.

You looked up, and there he was. Chenle’s best friend, Park Jisung. With no Chenle in sight, and none of your friends to stop you, you stormed up to the boy angrily, knowing you would regret this but could take care too much in the moment.

“Park Jisung!” The boy looked up in surprise, an awkward look falling on his face when he saw it was you.

Jisung chuckled nervously, standing up straight and rubbing the back of his neck, “Hey, what’s up?”

“What the hell does your little bitch of a friend—” He blinked. “—think he’s doing?! Taking Jiho to my cafe, singing Uptown Girl with them, giving them my hoodie?! What’s wrong with him?”

“Everything,” Jisung spoke in amusement, “And I’m pretty sure you don’t own Kwangya or Uptown Girl. Or the hoodie that’s actually Chenle’s, and he loves that hoodie like a serious alarmingly amount. I’m thinking about forcing him to go to therapy.”

“Good, therapy would be fucking great for an asshole like him! Maybe he and his therapist can dig in that deep, soulless, heartless heart of his and figure out why he’s such an unoriginal asshole,” you smiled sarcastically at the taller boy. He stared at you in shock. “And then, maybe, just maybe, all three of you can go suck a dick and fall off a cliff!”

Without waiting for a reply, you turned abruptly and stumbled back slightly when you almost walked into someone. Your anger only grew when you saw the boy you were just talking about, staring at you in shock and … sadness? No. He didn’t deserve to be sad. You did.

You scoffed, glaring at him, “What? Are you following me now? Hope Jiho likes my sloppy seconds!” You stormed off in the opposite direction, not even realizing that you were heading away from your dorm.

“He loves me, he loves me not,” you murmured to yourself as you plucked off the wilting petals of a Baby’s Breath. “He loves me, he loves me … not.” You faltered. There were no more petals. You threw the flowerless stem to the ground, stomping on it for good measure like it was Chenle. “Jerk.”

“Y/N.”

You jumped, turning swiftly even though you knew who it was by his voice, “My God, Chenle. You’re really a stalker nowadays, aren't you?” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. You don’t know when the anger started to fade away and turn into hurt. You just knew it hurt like hell to see him right now when he wasn’t yours and was recreating your memories with another person. “What the fuck do you want now? Haven’t you done enough?”

It was a lot easier to be angrier at someone than it was to say you were hurt.

Chenle sighed, “I deserve that.” Yeah, you do, asshole, you wanted to say, but he continued before you could open your mouth. “I just … I wanted to come and say I’m sorry.”

When he didn’t continue, your eyebrows rose as your foot tapped impatiently, “Do you even know what you’re supposed to be sorry for?” He probably didn’t. He usually never did because he thought he could do no wrong.

“Breaking your heart,” he said like it was nothing. “Stealing our old dates, our songs … Letting Jiho wear your jacket.”

“It’s not my jacket, it’s yours,” you replied offhandedly, Jisung having made you realize that technically it was. You paused, thinking of something and then failed to hide a smirk. “And you know what, Chenle? I forgive you.”

“What?” Chenle’s eyes comically bulged out of his head. He must’ve thought it would’ve been harder.

You shrugged, “Yeah. I mean … You can continue stealing our old dates, our songs, you can do everything we used to do with Jiho. Hell, even watch reruns of Glee with them, for all I care!” Your smile became devilish as you took a step towards him, his face faltering at your words. He didn’t expect any of this— you held grudges, just like he did. That’s part of the reason why you two broke up.

“What?” His voice cracked in a way that was once cute, but now you just wanted to laugh maliciously at it.

“Because … Every time you do,” your hand raised slowly, lifting a finger to caress his cheek lightly. He flinched at your touch, not expecting it, before slowly sinking into it. You forced yourself to not sink into it, either. “You’ll think of me. Jiho’ll think it’s special, all for them— when, really, it’s only special because of me. You’ll look them in the eyes, touch them, and wish it was me. You’ll hear my voice when they say something, you’ll see me in every damn thing around you and you’ll realize … you just lost the best damn thing to ever happen to you.”

Your hand dropped back to your side, stepping away from your ex-boyfriend and smiled again. “That’s why I’m OK with forgiving you. Because you’ll suffer for the rest of your life, wondering what could have been. And that’s good enough for me.”

Chenle stared at you in a mix of shock and hurt. Your heart pumped harshly in your chest, echoing in your ears and giving you away. You hoped he couldn’t hear it.

“Y/N …” He started but you shook your head, stopping him from speaking any more.

“You’re going to have the life you deserve, Chenle,” you said lastly. You turned and walked away as calmly as you could from him, even though your heart was beating erratically and your head was yelling at you for saying all those things to him.

You only believed in half of your words, you didn’t forgive him, but you were OK with him suffering without you as you suffered without him, too. It would be a two-way street. Your trembling fingers reached for your phone in your pocket, unlocking it and texting a message to the group chat.

YOU: just told chenle off lol. im done with him for good.

Your phone exploded with messages instantly.

RYUJIN: legend!!!

BEOMGYU: whAT DID YOU SAY? WAS HE CRYING AFTER? HE BETTER HAVE BEEN CRYING

JEONGIN: good im glad youre finally done with him. you deserve better.

MINJEONG: can i still trip him and jiho whenever i see them lol

CHAERYEONG: soo wish i was there his face wouldve been priceless!!!

The corner of your lips weakly twitched up, letting out a tearful laugh as you realized what you’ve done. You felt an odd sense of relief as a tear ran down your cheek, a flow of others following seconds later.

Your chest felt lighter. The anger and hurt was still there, seething, simmering. It would be there, quite possibly, for the rest of your life. But your chest felt lighter, knowing he would suffer just as much as you would.

You were the two sides of the same coin, even apart. It would always be like this. It was always going to end like this.

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