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bts-bay-bee · 4 years

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Jungkook’s NSFW Alphabet

Word count: 2649

Warnings: smut (obviously), a little mxm? sex toys

A/N: hi guys :) so this basically marks the end of my little hiatus. please let me know if you enjoyed this! i appreciate any and all feedback. also this is for kookie because it’s his birthday next week <3

(not important but quite possibly my favourite picture of kookie ^.^ // i also do not own this picture or any pictures used in this)

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A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

⭬ After sex Jungkook is very attentive to your every need: he’ll get you water, snacks, whatever you want. He enjoys being able to relax with you after a rough couple of rounds, just talking about nothing. He loves nothing more than trailing his deft fingers over your slightly sweaty skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake, only to be slowly kissed away by his soft, slightly swollen lips. Eventually, after kissing each any every bruise he had marked you with, making sure that you weren’t hurt, he’d engulf you in his arms, not caring about the outside world, then fall asleep.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of their partners)

⭬ This boy lives for your legs. When you’re around him, he’ll practically pant with lust if you’re wearing a skirt or dress. He loves running his hands up and down the expansive of your skin, loves the way he can force you to keep your thighs spread by grabbing fistfuls of your outer thighs when he’s going down on you. Whenever he could fuck you, his primal instinct was to throw your legs over his shoulders, pounding into you until you’re completely fucked out, stopping his grunts and groans by biting down on your fleshy calves, marking you in the process.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

⭬ Do you know what’s his favourite part when he’s fucking you? Painting your body with stripes of his cum. He doesn’t care where: it could be your stomach as he finished himself over you, hands working furiously, it could even be on your bare tits and face, making you swallow every single drop when he was satisfied with how laden you were with his cum. But the best way to cum was inside you: he usually found his release after you convulsed around him too many times to count, so why would he willingly leave your wet, warm cunt? He loved finishing in you, squirting hot cum on your walls as you milked him for every drop. He especially loved when he came in you during a semi-public quickie, forcing you to put back your skirt on and holding his cum in you. More than once you had to leave a dinner party or outing because he just got too turned on by knowing that his essence was probably running down your thighs.

D = Dirty secret (A dirty secret of theirs)

⭬ He’ll never admit this to you or anyone, but he often fantasized about watching you get fucked by someone else, having you watch as he got fucked by someone else, or just a threesome (or foursome). Obviously, it would be someone exceptionally close to him, like Taehyung or Jimin, but he just didn’t know how to approach the topic with any of you.

E = Experience (How experienced are they?)

⭬ Seeing as he was a part of one of the biggest bands to have ever existed, who came from a pretty strict company, he had not been very experienced when you had first started dating. He wasn’t a virgin – not with the amount of men and women who continuously threw themselves at him – but from watching numerous tutorial porn videos, and with the help if his Hyungs giving him advice, he quickly learned how to make you see stars.

F = Favourite position (pretty self-explanatory)

⭬ As boring as it may sound, Jungkook doesn’t necessarily have a single favourite position: as long as he can bury himself deep in you and watch you fall apart, that’s all he needs. One of his favourites is when he’s holding you against a wall (or door, or mirror) and you’ve got your legs wrapped around him. (I had gifs here, but it got flagged, yay.)

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

⭬ Everyone knows that he’s basically an overgrown child, so a couple giggles here and there are bound to happen. Jungkook could have you laughing from some stupid joke to cumming with tears streaming down your face is seconds.

Let’s be real, with someone as cute as this, you’re not going to be mad about being goofy during sex

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

⭬ The stylists never allow a single hair to be out of place on his beautiful head, so why would the rest of his body be any different? Despite people thinking that waxing is uncomfortable, or straight up painful, he’d much rather feel half an hour of discomfort to make being buried in you just that much better.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

⭬ Despite him thinking that he’s terrible at intimacy, Jungkook can easily turn any situation into a romantic one. He enjoys being able to gaze into your eyes, something that used to make both of shy, and be the one who’s forcing those pretty sounds out of your parted lips. On the rare occasion that you have a bad day, he’ll run you a bath, light a couple candles and just slowly make love to you.

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

⭬ With his job requiring him to be so far away from home, and so obviously you as well, he’s kind of forced into the situation. Despite being as hard as a rock with his tip dribbling rivulets of precum, he just cannot find it in himself to get off without at least hearing your voice. On more occasions than you can count, you received a phone call from a breathless Jungkook, his low, sultry voice immediately letting you know what the situation was. You tried to not picture how good he looked when his cock stood to attention, tried not to picture how delectable he looked hovering over you as he repeatedly pounded into you, making you reach places that no one has ever taken you to before, but it was just so hard not to. After hearing his moans and soft curses, you couldn’t help but get turned on yourself, eventually joining him in touching yourself until you both reach your climaxes.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

⭬ God, it would be easier to say what kink he doesn’t have. He enjoys breath play to a certain extent: he would much rather prefer to choke you with his dick rather than his hands though. Many people think that they’ve got a clear read on him: either pegging him as a submissive or a dominant, yet very few people see both sides to him. On the rare occasion, he’d let you have your way with him, allowing you to edge him as many times as he could physically handle, riding him hard, before abruptly pushing yourself off of him and deepthroating him, trying to swallow the torrents of cum pulsing through his red, almost painful looking cock.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

⭬ After a long day of being at the studio or learning their newest choreography, he’d almost moan out aloud when he sees you in nothing but one of his oversized shirts and your tiny thong, cooking dinner for both of you. On many occasions you ended up ordering takeout because he’d bend you over the kitchen island, fucking into you so hard that you forget that there was food on the stove. A few more favourites are the lounge, as well as the shower: the many positions he could put you in seems to be endless in his mind. One place that he really wants to try to fuck you in is the practice room: the thought of rutting into you as he forces you to look at yourself cumming is enough to make him rock hard. It doesn’t help that at any moment, Taehyung or Jimin might walk in, feeding into his dirty little fantasy.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

⭬ One pretty easy way to turn him on his by wearing lingerie: show him, or even hint at the idea, that the only thing covering your pretty pussy is a scrap of lace and he’ll all but rip it off of you. The number of panties that he’s ripped is probably a worrying amount. Another rather innocent way to rile him up is by slipping on some heels: the higher, the better. Of course he’s no misogynist, and he’ll never force you to wear anything, but the fact that your legs just look so amazing in them turns him on to a point where he won’t even be able to take off any of yours or his clothes before fucking you.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

⭬ Jungkook will never judge anyone on their kinks – he gets turned on by thinking about having someone else fuck you, for God’s sake – but one thing he just cannot grasp is extreme age play. He’ll never want to do anything if it involves little space.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

⭬ He would much rather go down on you than you go down on him. The thing is: your oral skills are just too good. When you suck him off, he is for sure going to cum before he can enter your tight, wet cunt, and why wouldn’t he want to bury himself in you? He’d much prefer eating your pussy, making you cum on his tongue, then fucking you into the mattress. Or kitchen island. Anywhere really.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

⭬ There are days when you both have time and energy to take it slow: it’ll start off by a quick, innocent peck, which turns into a full-blown making out session, complete with you grinding and whimpering on his lap. He’ll strip both of you at his own leisurely pace, then slowly make love to you, running his fingers along your skin, making you moan into his ear… The only problem with this is that it’s not very often that you both have the time for this. On more days than not, you’re wrapped up in his fiery embrace, impaled on his cock while he rubs your clit in tight, fast circles. Days like this guarantees that you’re both completely spent after climaxing, barely finding the strength to move after such a rough and fast-paced session.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

⭬ Listen. If you’re going to be dating Jungkook, you’re going to have to be okay with having quickies, all the time. He doesn’t differentiate between quickies and ‘proper sex’, and honestly, neither do you. Despite how movies paint sex to be slow and romantic, it often isn’t like that in real life; I mean, no one has the time for an hour of foreplay. But you need to relieve yourself, so when Jungkook comes to you with his eyes darkened and his pants tented, you all but jump at the opportunity.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

⭬ As I’ve stated before, Jungkook really has a lot of kinks, so there’s very little that he wouldn’t want to at least try. If you want to try bondage, he’s game. If you want to try a sex swing, he wouldn’t even batt an eyelash. If you want to try pegging, he’d get you the, uh, equipment needed. Point is he’ll experiment with everything at least once.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

⭬ So, you know how we’re always comparing him to a bunny? Let’s just say that the analogy is for more than just his looks. With all the cardio and exercise he does, it’s almost a given that he can last a long time. Paired with the horniness of a man his age, sex with him can go on for hours on end. Many a times you have ended up with numb legs and a sore pussy, the results of a horny Jungkook.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

⭬ He loves toys. Yours and Jungkook’s sex life is anything but boring, and he vows it will never be. Between the two of you, you have an assortment of vibrators, cock rings, handcuffs (not the fuzzy kind – real handcuffs), a strap-on or two, and a lot of other things. The toys aren’t just meant for one of you: the vibrators can be used on your clit as well as on his cock or prostate, and the handcuffs are regularly used by him on you, but now and then you itch to restrain him and have your way with him. The only toy that Jungkook uses by himself is his fleshlight, which is exclusively used when he’s on tour.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

⭬ The only way that he’ll ever tease you is by sexting. He’ll text you all the sinful things he wants to do with you: the positions he’s going to fuck you in, the way he’s going to paint your body with his cum… But all his teasing words just get you horny, and wet enough that you’re ready for him to slip into when he finally sees you again. Jungkook could tease you the entire day, enough to have you dripping and soaking your panties, but the moment he sees you, he won’t deprive you (or him) of the delicious feeling of one another.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

⭬ With a voice like his, you’d practically beg him to be as loud as he can, but this flusters him for some reason. Although you continuously reassure him that it turns you on in unimaginable ways, he’d much rather hear your moans and pants. But sometimes he just can’t help himself: not with the way you’re clenching around him, gripping onto him so tightly that he can’t even think straight. (this is what I think he sounds like - USE HEADPHONES)

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

⭬ Let’s say that one day, Jungkook either gets the balls to ask you to allow other people in the bedroom, or he drunkenly tells you about his dirty little secret… It ends up with him handcuffed to the bed, his mouth stuffed with Taehyung’s dick and ass stuffed with Jimin’s cock, while you bounce on his dick, a cock ring preventing him from climaxing. Tears streaming down his face, either from choking on Tae’s cock or from the overstimulation and need to cum from your pussy clenching around his dick while Jimin continuously hits his prostate. Taehyung pulls out from his mouth, leaving him gasping for air, instead turning to you and cumming on your clit and Jungkook’s toned stomach, his eyes never leaving Jungkook’s. (God, I’m editing this and why did I do this to myself, now I can’t get this idea out my head, smh)

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

⭬ I have nothing to say, except

s t r o n g p o w e r, thank you.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

⭬ He’s a man in his early twenties, I’m pretty sure he’s horny 24/7. He gets turned on way too easily; you could just stretch your back and he’s pinning you on the couch, already pulling down your panties and wrapping his lips around your clit. Every day, you wake up with his morning wood pressing into you, signalling just how needy this sweet bunny is.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

⭬ Jungkook typically falls asleep fast, even without expending all that energy to fuck you until you’re screaming, so don’t expect him to stay awake for more than about twenty minutes. After he makes sure that you’re well taken care of, he pulls you to his chest and almost immediately begins snoring.

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagines #smut #bts #jungkook fanfiction

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dimpled-gukkie · 3 years

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Santa Baby (tell me you hear them too)

moodboard made by the lovely @today-we-will-survive

Summary: You attend a last minute Christmas party and meet your soulmate. The catch? You don’t remember anything about them besides the fact that they were wearing a Santa suit. Turns out there were seven Santas at the party... The question remains: Can you find your soulmate before Christmas Day?

Genre: Soulmate AU/ College AU

Pairing: ???? x reader

Warnings: hand burned on hot chocolate, Jin says he’s too pretty to be a hostage, mentions and depictions of drinking, joon is described as a porn aficionado

Word Count: 12.4k

a/n: It’s a very special day for my dearest friend @purpleful! In your honor I thought I’d write you a story of your own, as you help me with a countless amount of mine. Remember all the times you asked me this month if I had written anything or had a Christmas fic? I had been working on this the whole time nshjfhn. You sent me into a panic sometimes though because I swear you guessed the plot several times without actually knowing I was even writing. Anyways I love you and thank you for being my friend ❤️

a/a/n: also Happy Holidays to anyone else celebrating. I hope you’re able to find lightness even in these dark times. And to the atheists out there, cheers to the upcoming new year

1 day, 12 hours, 32 minutes and 12 seconds until Christmas

“Don’t you think those elf costumes are hot? Like damn I wish my legs looked like that in tights.” Mina whispers conspiratorially, though her voice has a tendency to carry no matter what volume she attempts to speak in, meaning the elf you’re passing by surely hears her based off his reddened ears.

“Do you have any shame?” You laugh, tucking your arm around her own to tug her into the nearby candle store. Your professor offered to give extra credit in exchange for a present and while she’s undoubtably exploiting her students for free gifts you could really use some help in your upper division history elective.

“What’s the fun in that?” Mina giggles, reaching over to the nearest stand and picking up a candle. She gives it a good whiff before coughing, holding the offending item away from her like that will somehow save her from smelling it further despite the top still being off.

“I imagine this is what elf vomit smells like.” She groans, shoving it into your arms in an effort to make you suffer as well. True friendship.

“Winter Candies?” You question, reading the label and the ingredients it’s supposed to smell like. “Adding pecan and peppermint is probably what went wrong.” You hum before smelling it yourself and coughing from the fumes. “Oh you were right this is disgusting.”

“Have I ever lied to you?” Mina hums. “Get that one for your professor.”

“I’d like my grade to be higher not lower. Let’s just get this pine one. It’s a safe bet right?”

“If you like your house to smell like a forest I guess so.” She shrugs, following behind you to the register. “Do you think we could get something to eat? I’m starving.”

“Didn’t you eat like half of Songi’s Christmas cookies this morning? Speaking of which you’re going to get in trouble, she was whining the whole time about how long they were taking due to her lack of patience.”

“When is she not whining about how long things take? Girl has the attention span of a nat, better yet a goldfish.” She snickers, though her eyes shine with a particular fondness for one of her oldest friends. Songi is actually how you met Mina in the first place, the both of you stuck in statistics together and becoming quick friends. When sophomore year rolled around it just made sense to move in with Songi and Mina as they were already looking for a third roommate.

“Very true. Though I’m sure her soulmate will find it charming. Hopefully.”

“Do you ever wonder when we’ll meet our soulmates?” Mina sighs, looking dreamily off into what appears to be the oncoming food court. It’s a toss up whether she’s thinking about her soulmate or fried food.

“All the time but I try not to dwell on it. I just want to live you know? They’ll find me eventually.” The line for hotteok is long, but the sweet smell of pancakes keeps you placated even if your stomach is grumbling.

“When my soulmate does come I hope they’re as fine as Park Jimin. That man must be an angel or something because no one has the right to be that attractive.” You’re about to comment on where that sudden thought came from when Park Jimin himself exits hastily from a store, a clothing bag thrown over his shoulder as he hastily types on his phone. From the draw of his brows and slight scowl he almost looks a little angry, an expression you’ve never seen on him before. “Jimin!” Mina calls, and the orange haired boy immediately picks his head up and puts on a light smile before jogging over.

As he approaches the bells around you jangle, the clock at Santa’s workshop echoing throughout the mall and ringing in your ears. Rubbing your ear to try and ease the slight pain you give Jimin a small wave when he finally appears before you. “The bells are pretty loud huh?” He smiles, nodding towards the large bell that apparently looms behind you.

You agree at the same time Mina says, “I don’t think they’re that loud. Annoying at most.” Before looking between the both of you and wriggling her brows. You brush it off as her being weird before gesturing to Jimin’s bag.

“Don’t tell me you bought a Santa costume.” You say, causing him to laugh. The way his eyes slip between his plump cheeks is rather flattering.

“I lost a bet and this is the price to pay for tonight’s party. Speaking of which you guys should come. Jin’s on alcohol duty so he’ll definitely get all the fancy shit.” Jimin says.

“Well since the Park Jimin invited us, I guess we’ll have to stop by. Text y/n the address and we’ll get there eventually. No promises to be on time though.” Mina jokes.

“That is why they created the term ‘fashionably late’ is it not? Just make sure not to wear a sexy Santa costume, Jin says he wants to be the lone slutty Santa.” Jimin laughs, as if drawing a picture in his own mind before shaking his head.

“It’s a little odd to have a party on the twenty-third though. Why not Christmas Eve?”

“Most of us are going home tomorrow so today was really the only time. Everyone was strung up with finals and stuff.”

“Understandable. I’m getting last minute extra credit before grades are finalized tomorrow. Our school really kills the festive spirit with everything being so close to the holidays.”

“Exactly. All the more reason to party out our frustrations.” His phone buzzes and Jimin types a quick reply before turning back to you. “I gotta go and help Tae at the shelter but I’ll see you both tonight right?”

“And Songi! Our ride or die, our forever plus one, our favorite-“

“Alright, alright. Yeah we’ll be there.” You smile, your hand still over Mina’s mouth as Jimin turns and jogs away. When you release her she smacks the back of your head and you whine.

“What was that for??”

“For being stupid dumbass. You’re telling me both you and Jimin thought the bells were super loud and didn’t think that’s sus. He’s clearly your soulmate!” Mina practically screeches, bouncing on her heels in excitement. The spectacle draws the attention of those around you and you can’t help but shy away.

“Shut up! Besides it’s the holiday season, bells are ringing everywhere. There’s no way to tell if it’s actually your soulmate’s bell jingle. Besides Jimin didn’t seem to think anything of it either. Shouldn’t you just know?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one with the found soulmate after all.” Mina shrugs before giving her order to the vendor. She nudges you to give your own but your mind is still reeling. Park Jimin isn’t actually your soulmate, right?

1 day, 1 hour, 37 minutes, 53 seconds until Christmas

Despite your nonchalance earlier, you feel jittery standing outside the address Jimin sent you. Shivers rack down your spine at the prospect of seeing him again, of being certain that Jimin is your forever. You can hear the music through the door, a rhythmic thumping that you try and match your breathing to. Even if Park Jimin isn’t your soulmate it’s not going to be the end of the world. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself, ignoring the way just the idea forms a pit in your stomach. “I know we’re waiting for you to mentally prepare yourself but could you hurry up? I for one would love to witness slutty Jin.” Mina says, nudging you forward lightly with her shoulder.

“Chill out Mina, give the poor girl some time. She’s about to find her soulmate after all.” Songi says, throwing an arm over your shoulder and dragging you into her side. “If it makes you feel better I’ll stay by your side the whole night. We can make fun of Mina shamelessly trying to outdo Seokjin.”

“Hey! Jimin may have said I couldn’t be a slutty Santa but that will never stop me from being the baddest bitch there.” She makes a show of grabbing her sweater and tugging it to emphasize ‘ho’ stitched across the front. Songi has a matching one with Santa losing said hos.

“If I don’t see a dance battle I’m going to be disappointed. After all you promised to do something stupid for me to film. It’s the only reason I decided to come, I mean after supporting you of course.” Songi laughs, giving you an affectionate squeeze.

“Hey I could be an idol with these moves! Ryujin has nothing on me.” Mina huffs, breaking out into the iconic Itzy choreography in the middle of the hallway. You can’t help but crack up at the serious face she makes while ungracefully flailing her limbs. “And you should be grateful to us you hermit! I hope for your sake your soulmate is outgoing because you’ll live your whole life holed up in your apartment otherwise.”

“It’s safer that way. No bugs.” Songi says, causing Mina to push her and nearly send you both crashing to the floor.

“You’re insufferable. I don’t know how I’ve put up with you all these years.”

“You love me, I mean really it’d be hard not too.” Songi shrugs, a smug smile pulled onto her face as she pats Mina’s cheek.

“More like tolerate you and to be honest I’ve reached my limit. Let’s go inside so I can ditch you losers.” Mina throws the door open and heads inside, easily weaving through the bodies crammed inside the small apartment.

“I can just feel the love.” Songi sighs, clutching onto the space over her heart. “Now come on, we can’t find him if we’re in the hallway all night.” Moving to grab your hand she drags you inside, only for you to run into a boy passing through.

“My bad, didn’t think anyone else would be coming by. I have to go get more eggnog before Jin starts screaming at us again.” He smiles, the corner of his lips forming into soft right angles.

“It’s alright.” You murmur, looking around for Mina or Songi. Surely they’re somewhere nearby. Songi is most likely tucked away in some corner, longingly looking for an animal to keep her entertained while Mina is probably at the makeshift bar. If you weren’t so busy looking for your friends maybe you’d pay mind to the soft tinkling of bells and his cardinal red Santa suit wrapped nicely around his frame. Yet even when he breezes past you, your eyes are focused on your two friends. You spot Mina first, surprisingly she’s near the edge of the makeshift dance floor, a drink in her hand and likely about halfway drunk enough to begin belting along to whatever song comes on, even if it’s a terrible EDM mashup of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

You push through the bodies to get to her, almost getting trampled twice before breaking out and grabbing her by the arm before she can walk away. “Oh hey! I got you a drink, I know you don’t like eggnog so I swiped the chocolate milk from the fridge and spiked it myself.” She smiles, shoving a green plastic cup decorated with little lights towards you. You take a sip and wince at the bitter taste, the gingerbread liquor making an interesting concoction. But it’s the thought that counts and you smile despite wanting to cough at the strong flavor.

“Thanks. Where’s Songi?” You ask and Mina curses.

“She was just over in that corner but she’s gone now. Maybe we should try to find her?”

“You know, for someone who claims to hate social interaction she goes off on her own quite easily.” You hum, pushing your way through only to bump into Park Jimin himself. “Sorry.” You say, bumping into Mina from how quickly you try to put space between the two of you. You had momentarily forgotten the whole reason you came was because of Jimin and the possibility that he’s your soulmate. Your hands are suddenly clammy and you rub them against the side of your pants nervously.

“No big deal. Good to see you though! How long have you been here? You should’ve come and said hi to me first.” He whines, his pretty lips drawing into a thick pout, brows upturned as he gives you his best puppy dog look. You can feel yourself melting and all he’s doing is staring at you. The bells around you seem to get louder, Mariah Carey’s iconic Christmas song setting the stage.

“Ahh yeah. Next time! Maybe we could-uhh even come together. If you want to that is.” You smile shyly, pulling your sleeves down over your hands anxiously. You hope he can understand the implication behind your words, and as he steps towards you the bells seem to grow even louder. Someone shoves you from behind and you stumble, body alight with nerves when Jimin catches you. You’re practically shaking, in nerves or excitement you can’t discern. The only thing you can focus on is how pretty Jimin looks cast under red and white lights, his eyes filled with little twinkles. Your breath hitches at how close he is and you look down quickly when he gazes back at you so he can’t read the pure adoration on your face.

Naturally to try and seem less awkward you rush out the first thought that comes to mind. “Your suit is orange?” He takes a step back and you wish to reverse time as the warmth of whiskey and cinnamon on his breath parts from you.

“Ahh yeah, I lost a bet so I had to wear a Santa Suit and Hobi didn’t have enough for us all. I was in such a hurry I didn’t even bother looking at it before renting it. It’s my own fault for being swindled. I should’ve known better than to rent from a halloween shop that was suspiciously still open in December. Can you believe all the other stores were sold out?” Jimin scoffs and despite being interested in his story you can only focus on the way his lips move and pout with each word. They’re a rosy pink, slightly shiny in the dim lighting like he had just put on chapstick or licked his lips. The only thing that draws you out of your stupor is a petite girl throwing her arm around Jimin’s waist.

“Baby!” She exclaims and your eyes widen as Jimin grins down at her, wrapping his hands happily around her own waist and dragging him tightly into her. His smile is the largest you’ve ever seen on him, cheeks particularly squished in utmost happiness and his expression being what you could only describe as love. You can feel your heart breaking already. “Hi I’m Jisoo!” You think you’re going to be sick to your stomach, not just because Jimin is in love with someone else but because the girl you’re supposed to hate is so nice. She smiles at you warmly like you weren’t just staring at her boyfriend’s lips and wondering what they’d taste like.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Isn’t my soulmate so cute?” Jimin asks you, his eyes sparkling like diamonds as he squishes her cheek between two fingers. Your breath starts to quicken and you smile widely to hide the way your eyes begin to fill with tears.

“You both are adorable together.” You manage to get out, impressed with how natural it sounds despite how tense you feel. The bells in your head are just mocking you now as you make up an excuse to leave, the two of them so wrapped up in each other they don’t pay mind to your absence. Clearing your throat you head to the bathroom to try and get some privacy for your inevitable break down only to run into Mina and some guy in a Santa suit stumbling out.

“Y/n!” Mina cheers, too intoxicated to notice the way small tears begin to fall down your face. The hallway is rather dark and yet you can still make out the guy next to her with a curved nose and reddened ears. He looks a little embarrassed to be caught after an obvious rendezvous in a bathroom at a party and yet his hands still wind around Mina’s waist comfortably when she pulls away from you. “My soulmate’s an elf!” She cackles and you welcome the distraction her words bring.

“What?” You ask confused. The guy beside her is wearing a Santa costume, you’re sure of it.

“Hoseok is a mall elf! You know the guy with the hot legs? It’s him, my soulmate!” She squeals excitedly, grabbing him by the arm and smiling up at him blissfully.

“How are you sure?” You don’t mean to sound so bitter, but Mina never mentioned hearing bells at the mall nor did she mention hearing bells when you caught her earlier. If anything this could just be her wishful thinking like her suggestion of Jimin being your soulmate.

“You just kinda know! Like at the mall when we passed I wrote it off as shop bells. Then when I got here and we bumped into each other I just knew it was actually him. And when we touched it was like I was struck by lightning.” Your face must show incredulity because she just smiles at you.

“I know, I know. It sounds super cliche but it’s true. Though now that we’ve touched a lot more it’s wearing down.” She giggles, winking at him and reveling in the way the blush burns brighter. He sticks his hand out to you after squeezing her waist and you stare at it for a moment before reaching out to shake it.

“Hi, I’m Hoseok. You can call me Hobi though.” His smile takes the form of a heart as he grins at you and Mina practically squeals.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’d love to talk later but I have to use the bathroom.” You nod behind them and Hoseok seems to realize he’s standing in the doorway and moves aside bashfully.

“So sorry! Didn’t realize I was still standing there.” You just give him a tight-lipped smile and nod, moving past them quickly. Your silence seems to be what draws Mina’s concern, a tentative hand coming to grab your forearm lightly.

“Y/n-“ She starts but you gently brush her off.

“I’m fine. Really don’t worry about me.” You say softly before locking the door and sliding down it. It’s in the comfort of the quiet bathroom that you allow the tears to freely fall and mourn the soulmate you didn’t have.

22 hours, 45 minutes, 35 seconds until Christmas

You finally find Songi, a random cat cuddled up in her arms as she’s squished into a small chair nestled by the kitchen. She’s a little hazy in your mind, it feels a bit like you’re looking at her underwater, and you smile at her lazily before plopping down into her lap. “Be careful!” She scolds, holding the cat up higher so it’s curled into her chest instead. You just blink slowly at her in response and she sighs. “How much did you drink tonight?”

“After I cried for like thirty minutes I stole a bottle of peppermint schnapps and drank the whole thing.” You sigh, resting your head against her own.

“Why’d you cry? I wish you would’ve told me you were upset, I would’ve suggested we leave right away.”

“Park Jimin already has a soulmate…it’s not me. I know chances were already slim because he’s Park Jimin and well, I’m me but I just thought maybe this would be it. I finally would have someone to share everything with and I wouldn’t.. be so lonely.” You murmur out the last part, your drunken state revealing the thoughts that consumed you upon meeting Jisoo. No matter how much you mentally prepared yourself for the possibility of Jimin being a fluke, you weren’t ready for just how brutal the disappointment was.

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being you. Besides I’d never let Park Jimin sit on my lap and yet here you are, perched upon a throne.” You can’t help the small giggle you let out. Songi always knows what to say to cheer you up.

“You’re so weird you know that? You’re the only person I know who refers to thighs as a throne.”

“Don’t judge me and my preferences. You drool over hands and I drool over thighs, it’s perfectly normal. Anyways, I know you mean romantically but I’ll always be here if you want someone to cry with or to yell at fictional characters about their stupidity with you. You’re my best friend.” Despite her hatred of hugs and physical contact Songi retracts her arms from the cat to put them around you instead, gently giving you a squeeze. It’s a little awkward because she’s terrible at hugs but you appreciate it nonetheless.

“How about we get out of here okay?” She suggests and you nod, wincing as your head starts to pound. The alcohol must be catching up to you. The pounding is then followed by ringing, and you hold your head in your hands as church bells ring in your ears. The world is truly out to make a mockery of your life.

“You okay? Here sit down a minute.” Songi ushers you into the chair as she hovers above you, rushing off to get some water for you.

“Taehyung really shouldn’t have been in charge of the playlist.” Someone from beside you sighs but you can’t look up at them for the sake of your pounding headache. “I think I’m going to have bells ringing in my head for days.” They sigh before they seem to notice you. “Hey you okay?” They ask, a hand placed on your shoulder in concern but the electricity that runs down your spine makes you gasp. Your skin prickles in goosebumps but Songi is just near enough that she takes your gasp as extreme pain instead of astonishment.

“I’m sorry I took so long!” She says, throwing your arm around her shoulders haphazardly before hauling you up and against her.

“Hey wait-“ The voice from beside you starts, but Songi brushes them off.

“Don’t worry I’m not gonna steal your cat this time. But don’t let him roam around with a bunch of drunk people. I almost saw him get stepped on five times by idiots.” For a brief second you manage enough strength to turn your head without wanting to throw up and blearily lock eyes with a pair of chocolate brown ones. They’re swimming with something you can’t quite make out: pain, regret, longing. But then Songi calls your name and you turn away to make sure you don’t smack into the front door. It’s odd but you can feel a pit in your stomach the further you walk away and his eyes are imprinted on the back of your lids with every blink.

14 hours, 18 minutes, 22 seconds until Christmas

“Wake up bitches!” Mina screams, banging on your and Songi’s doors and you groan. Rolling over, you throw the pillow over your head and try to fall back asleep to avoid the way your head pounds. Mina throws your door open and you wince when it smacks against the wall next to it. “You can’t evade me.” She says, reaching for your comforter and trying to throw it off. However, you predicted this to happen when you flipped over and cling tightly to the fluffy bedding, expertly disrupting her evil plan. Mina huffs in annoyance and you hide your grin in your sheets before releasing a puff of air when she jumps on top of you. “Wake! Up!” She yells, jumping on top of you like you’re some human trampoline.

“You’re the worst kind of person.” You grumble, rolling over to come face to face with her smile.

“Thanks! Now I want to eat cookies for breakfast and I refuse to eat them alone like it’s a shameful activity.” True in her shameless fashion she’s only wearing a baggy t-shirt, her neck exposed and colored various shades of purple and red. Though your night was unexplainably horrible you’re glad at least someone had a good time.

“I want Songi’s cookies. Hers always look pretty.”

“You mean you don’t want to try my cinnamon bourbon toffee snickerdoodles? I saw it on tiktok and they took me two hours! I nearly set the oven on fire!” You wrinkle your nose at the memory of two days ago, and coming home from finishing up one of your last papers to her covered in flour and the counters doused in eggs. It’s like she somehow got in a food fight with herself.

“And that’s precisely why they shouldn’t exist in the first place. You didn’t even know how to turn on the oven.” Songi murmurs, leant against your doorway.

“You’re all ungrateful, uncultured swines.” She huffs, though she still proceeds to make you all hot chocolates when you emerge from your room. The three of your are sat at the kitchen counter, plates full of cookies and Songi’s mom’s homemade fudge. If anything can cure a hangover it’s gorging yourself on unhealthy food.

“Did I ever tell you one kid in high school called me an uncultured swine because I didn’t know the rat from the ninja turtles?” Songi says, munching on her own frosted sugar cookie. It was her first attempt at a 3D wreath but turned out to be more like a bush of frosting. For most it’d be deemed to sweet and disgusting to ingest but Songi happily licks away at the icing.

“What is the rat’s name?” Mina asks, and Songi just shrugs.

“I still don’t know honestly.”

“Why were you up so early anyways? Don’t you normally sleep until noon?” You ask Mina, noticing the way she turns away from you almost shyly.

“Hobi slept over and he had to go back to work early to return the Santa suits he stole before his boss found out.” The Santa suits spring a memory to mind and you suddenly recall seeing more than just one. Though Jimin did mention there being others, you only saw Hobi and Jin wearing them.

“Why were so many people wearing Santa suits anyways? I thought Jin wanted to be the only one.”

“The only slutty one, so naturally he was wearing the top of the suit like a robe and cut the pants into thot shorts. Hobi was understandably pissed about that one since they were only borrowing the suits after all. But it was some bet, he told me about it last night but I was too drunk to remember.” Looking into your drink the swirling chocolate then reminds you of eyes and the tingling feeling down your back when a warm palm rested on your shoulder.

“Holy shit!” You exclaim, suddenly standing up and running to your room. Mina and Songi are hot on your heels, watching curiously as you bounce around on one foot while struggling to pull your jeans over your thighs and hips.

“Where are you going?” Songi asks and you widen your eyes at the realization that she’s the only one who would’ve seen their face.

“Songi who did you see before you took me home? Who had their hand on my shoulder?” You ask, running up to grab her by the upper arms and shake her almost desperately. “Songi I need to know who it was.”

“What’s this all about? Did they steal from you or something?” Mina asks and you throw your head back in a frustrated groan.

“No they’re my soulmate!”

“Babe-“ Mina starts and your glare at the pity in her expression.

“I’m being serious. I felt the sparks or whatever and I can see his eyes when we walked away. I just can’t remember anything else. Songi you have to remember who they were.” You plead to the both of them and they look back at you rather sadly.

“I’m sorry but I’ve never seen them before. I think they were wearing a Santa costume but I don’t remember much else about them.” She says and you can’t help but deflate. You actually found your soulmate and got so drunk you can’t remember anything about them. Great.

“Are you sure they’re your soulmate anyways. I passed by you later that night and you seemed pretty wasted but maybe after Jimin you just thought-“

“No I didn’t make up a soulmate just because I was depressed that Jimin wasn’t mine. You know how you just knew with Hoseok? Well I just know with him. How many people were wearing Santa costumes?”

“Six.” Mina says but Songi disagrees and says there’s seven.

“A guy came in later with another suit. That’s how I found the cat, it was just following him around and I heard the little bell on the collar.”

“You-you heard a cat bell at a party filled with drunk people screaming?” Mina asks, her face twisted up in confusion. You have to admit that does seem like it’s rather unlikely that someone would be able to discern such a quiet sound with so much commotion.

“I have exceptional hearing, of course I heard it. Besides this isn’t some fanfic where we all find our soulmates in the same place. The guy did have a pretty face though, I wouldn’t mind looking at it upon closer inspection.” Songi shrugs, staring off dreamily like the cat guy is standing right in front of her.

“Do you think Hobi can give me the name of the guys he leant the suits to?” You ask and Mina sighs.

“Just don’t get your hopes up too much okay? Songi only thinks he was wearing a Santa costume. I just don’t want to see you heartbroken again.” She pats your head softly, almost motherly, and you give her your best smile.

13 hours, 45 minutes, 36 seconds until Christmas

The name Min Yoongi swirls around your brain as you stand outside of Bored and Brewed. It’s tucked between a music supply store and a flower shop, leafy plants hanging above the entrance and the large front windows blocked in by thin rectangular frames. You can see warm lights strewn across the cafe from outside, casting it in a golden hue as soft pink chairs and petal green couches decorate the inside. The bell above you jingles and you tersely smile, flashbacks of your embarrassment from misinterpreting a common sound during the holiday season returning. Hoseok gave no description of what Min Yoongi would look like, only stating that he’s a frequenter of this specific cafe given it’s proximity to your university’s music school buildings. Though Jimin mentioned all his friends were leaving today, you’re still hopeful that your soulmate will stick around long enough for you to find them. This is a matter of fate after all, the universe wouldn’t allow you to meet them before Christmas only to end up spending the day alone right? No matter how cruel the world normally seems you refuse to believe it would do this to you.

Upon entry the guy behind the counter smiles at you, then goes back to busying himself on the phone while you look at the menu. You’re not one for liking strong coffee, so your eyes naturally linger towards the sweeter drinks that are on the special menu. The bell to the shop rings again but you don’t pay it any mind, too fixated on trying to figure out what you want.

“I wouldn’t get the peppermint drink if I were you. They load it with sugar and whipped cream so it doesn’t taste like anything.” A voice from behind you says and you nod along. “I’d get the sugar cookie one, it’s not super sweet but also has a nice flavor. It’s the only thing I get that’s not actual coffee.” He hums and you decide to go ahead and order that before you make the guy behind you wait any longer.

“Make that two. I’m feeling particularly generous today.” He hands over some cash before you can say anything and you whip around to face him. Wavy black hair covers his brows, most of it tucked inside a gray beanie. A baggy hoodie and black skinny jeans adorn the rest of his figure and he gives you a tight lipped smile with the edges quirked upwards.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to.” You say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You follow him to the pick up area for your drinks, tucking your hands into your pockets to try and hide your nervous fiddling.

“I try to do a good deed every day so today that’s you it seems.” His voice is low and soft, a quiet rumbling in the wind.

“Well I appreciate it.” You say and silence falls between the two of you. Your mind is searching for something to say to fill the silence but the barista comes by with your two drinks. You’re about to just leave the conversation at the polite end but the barista’s words catches your attention.

“Feel free to buy me a drink sometime Yoongi.” He laughs.

“Yoongi?” You ask and the boy with the beanie turns back to you.

“Yeah?”

“As in Min Yoongi. Hobi’s friend?” You press further and the boy’s confusion turns to skepticism.

“Why do you ask?”

“Well you see I met my soulmate last night at the party but I don’t remember who they were, just that they were wearing a Santa costume.” You murmur, following behind when Yoongi makes a move to leave the shop.

“I’m sorry but I don’t believe in soulmates. I think you should have a say in who’s right for you.” Despite the coldness of his words, his tone is still soft- sympathetic almost.

“Yoongi wait!” You exclaim, grabbing onto his wrist with your own hand. The bell above the store chimes above you and for a second you allow yourself to believe you’re the one to change how Yoongi feels about soulmates. And yet you feel no goosebumps when your skin touches his, only the slightly dry texture of his palm when he gently takes your hand off him. “The-the bells. I can’t lose my soulmate again, please.” The end comes off as a whisper and Yoongi must take pity on you because he gives you a gentle smile.

“The bells were from above the door. But I can give you the name of another Santa, his name is Jin. He’s the one who hosted the party. He works at the restaurant I play piano for, he should be there picking up his check because the manager is old fashioned. If you hurry you can probably catch him. Two blocks down, it’s the fancy place with the stupid golden archway like a high end McDonalds.” He pats your upper arm twice before walking away. Though you miss the way he turns to watch you run around the small corner mumbling a small good luck at your parting figure.

13 hours, 30 minutes, 23 seconds until Christmas

Yoongi wasn’t lying when he said the place did have a strange high-end McDonalds feel. The golden arches are spotless, reflecting the red and green lights scattered in some windows of the buildings across the street. The doors are large french ones with gold painted around the trim and a guy in a butler’s outfit opens them for you. You thank him before heading inside, observing the grandiose chandeliers and poinsettias decorating the host stand. A girl with long blonde hair smiles at you before asking if you need a table.

“Actually I was looking for Jin? He has blonde hair and really wide shoulders.” It’s the only information Yoongi offered but the girl in front of you nods in understanding and you can’t help the sigh of relief you let out.

“He just came in to get something so I’ll find him and let him know you’re waiting for him. Can I get your name?”

“Umm just tell him Hobi’s friend is waiting.” You say nervously, pulling at the strings of your sweater to busy yourself. She just nods before walking away and you stuff three of the free mints in your mouth to try and ease yourself. That is before you realize they’re peppermint flavored and instantly start gagging as the taste of last night’s peppermint liquor surfaces. With your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from gagging, Jin walks into the lobby and spots you. His eyes widen in recognition, sparkling as he gets nearer. And as he draws closer a distant tinkling sounds rings out and your eyes water with tears. Is your soulmate perhaps the sluttiest Santa of them all?

“I’d remember you from anywhere. You stole my entire bottle of Peppermint Schnapps out of my secret liquor cabinet. I’m surprised you could reach it to be honest, I have to climb on the counter to grab it myself so you must’ve done some serious spider man shit.” He smiles and you wish the ground would swallow you whole. You have no recollection of doing that. What had Mina put in your first drink?

“Ahh yes. I was hoping I could speak to you privately.” Your eyes dart to the blonde hostess, perched on the host stand and conveniently leaning toward the two of you to hear closer.

“I was going to steal some food from the back before I left. You want anything?” He asks, walking towards the kitchen with you following him like some lovesick puppy. At this point you refuse to let your soulmate be taken from you any longer.

“What do you have?”

“Anything you could ever want. I’m heading home after this so I need some snacks for the drive.” He picks up a baguette and fruit, before opening the freezer and pulling out ready made desserts and quiches. “You think the caviar is here yet?” He asks to himself before rifling through some more shelves and letting out a loud ‘aha!’

“You hold this.” He says, giving you the expensive caviar and gesturing for you to hide it under your shirt.

“You want me to smuggle it out?” You exclaim and Jin quickly shushes you.

“It’s not smuggling, it’s borrowing. If there’s any left I’ll return it.” He says, pushing you away from the kitchen and walking normally like he doesn’t have a baguette and many other foods in his arms.

“Isn’t that a health violation?” You ask and Jin rolls his eyes.

“What are you? The health inspector? Besides you weren’t worried about health violations last night.” He says, leading you towards the front. The tinkling sound is particularly loud here and you finally gather the courage to question him about your real intentions.

“Speaking of last night, I don’t actually remember much. But I do know I found my soulmate.” You start, looking towards him and Jin hums in acknowledgement. “And he was wearing a Santa suit…so as you know, you were also wearing one. So I was thinking-“

“I’m your soulmate?” Jin says and you nearly drop the bowl of caviar that’s tucked underneath your shirt.

“You are? Honestly that’s such a relief because I’ve been stressing myself out about trying to find them before it was actually Christmas so I don’t have to spend another alone. You said you were having to go to your family’s right? Would I be able to come with? I know we’ve only just met but I can’t imagine having to be alone again and-“ Seokjin has tucked the baguette under his arm, a finger pressed delicately to your lips.

“This is very flattering, truly the sweetest soulmate confession I’ve received thus far. But I have to stop you because I’m not your soulmate. You think you’re hearing bells right? The bus boys are polishing all the glasses and they always knock them into each other.” When he sees your eyes water again he gently wipes the falling tears. “I know you’re looking to find them and I want to help you. You said it was a Santa right? Lucky for you all my friend’s wore the costume because of Taehyung’s punishment. They were betting the length of time it would take Taehyung to smuggle a cat out of the shelter he works at. If you ask me I think it was rigged since Taehyung was the determinator of the bet length but my friends are stupid at best so they overlooked that. I was going to be slutty Santa anyways so I didn’t really care what they did. The only surprise was Taehyung being a freak and wearing a suit as well. Can you believe it was just because he wanted to be festive and not to get someone to sit in his lap?”

You can only sniffle and nod, internally questioning if trying to find your soulmate today was really a good idea. Mina did warn you about the potential heartbreak but you had been stubborn and unwilling to listen. The universe has had it out for you thus far, so why would it suddenly take pity on you and make things easy? “Hey, hey don’t give up. I’ll send you the shelter address and you can stop by when you’re ready. He should be there all day, his family is coming up here tomorrow so he has nothing better to do.” Jin says.

“You don’t think this is stupid? That I’m searching for something that clearly wasn’t meant to happen?”

“I don’t think any matter of the heart is something to criticize. If you really wanna find your soulmate you will, I believe in you. And Hobi must’ve believed in you too if he gave you our government names and locations. He wouldn’t give them out to strangers he didn’t trust. Or at least I hope he doesn’t, I’m much too beautiful to be held hostage.”

“Thanks Jin. That was oddly encouraging.”

“There’s nothing that a pretty face can’t fix. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must coast to the gas station and stand there until someone offers to pay for me. The sugar daddies are normally out right about now so that’s my queue. And when you find your soulmate, tell him he and his garbage truck stomach owe me groceries.”

“You know who it is?” You ask and Jin only shrugs.

“Maybe, maybe not. I’ll see you at the next party y/n.” He winks.

12 hours, 28 minutes, 12 seconds until Christmas

“Did you find them?” Songi asks excitedly when you enter the apartment and you shake your head in reply. You’re not exactly completely discouraged but you feel nowhere near as excited and prepared as you were earlier. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” She asks, tentatively sitting on the couch beside you.

“Can we just watch a fun movie or something? i don’t really want to think at the moment.”

“How about a drama instead? Someone I know really loves Goblin.” She sings, already reaching for the remote.

“Goblin would be nice. It’s been a while since I’ve watched it.” You hum, snuggling under a fluffy blanket thrown across the back of the couch and curling up next to Songi.

“You want some popcorn? I can make hot chocolate or something if you want.” She offers but you shake your head and lean your head on her shoulder.

“I just want to mindlessly watch some dramas and pretend I’m the main characters.” You say and she merely nods before turning Goblin on.

“We can do that.” You both settle in comfortably, your body easing as the stress and emotional toll begin to weigh on you. Maybe what you needed was to just relax before putting yourself back out there. Besides Taehyung was supposed to be at the shelter all day, you had plenty of time. And even if you missed Taehyung, even if you didn’t find your soulmate by Christmas, you wouldn’t truly be alone. You had Songi right here with you, someone who had already offered to bring you with her when she saw her family tomorrow. It was with this warming realization that you finally allowed yourself to stop thinking, and close your eyes to get a peaceful sleep.

8 hours, 32 minutes, 56 seconds until Christmas

“You two took a nap and I wasn’t invited? You know napping is my favorite part of the day.” Mina whines, setting bags down onto the kitchen counter before squeezing between you and Songi on the couch. “Oo I love this scene! Though I have to say Nam Joo Hyuk’s swim scenes in weightlifting fairy were the best part of any drama I’ve seen thus far. When I tell you I almost drooled.” She sighs, batting away the pillow that Songi attempts to hit her with.

“How dare you talk about my man like that.” Songi huffs dramatically before pouting. “Besides he’s best as Nam Do San. If I could marry any character it’d be him.”

“He’s cute but I wouldn’t want him.” You say.

“Yes, yes. We all know you like your men older.” Mina cackles, wiggling her eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Hey they don’t have to be! I just- I don’t know, I want someone who could take care of me.”

“In all ways.” Mina giggles, her voice choked when you smack her dead in the face with the pillow beside you.

“None of that in my christian household!” You giggle to which she gasps, accosted.

“Then tell Songi to stop her weird thigh club thing!”

“I am part of the weightlifting club it’s not my fault we focus on squats!” Songi says, her voice rising significantly higher as she attempts to defend herself.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t join because you heard Wonho was the president.” Mina challenges, giggling when Songi’s cheeks bloom pretty roses.

“Sh-shut up. If you can have your hoe hours so can I. Besides Wonho’s my friend now, so I don’t admire them as much anymore.”

“You’re right, you admire them respectfully.” You add, laughing harder when Songi flips you off in retaliation.

“I hate you all. I need someone who will truly love me and be on my side.” She whines, standing up and moving to put on her shoes by the front door.

“Where are you going now?” Mina asks.

“To get a cat!” Songi exclaims, grabbing her bag off the rack by the door and storming out. You know she’s not really mad, but you also know there’s a one-hundred percent chance she’s coming back with a cat despite your lease directly stating it doesn’t allow animals.

You settle back onto the couch before your eyes widen and you jump up to put on your own shoes. “And where are you going?”

“I need to go to the shelter to see Taehyung and Songi’s the only one with a car!” You shout, running out the door and after her. You sprint down the stairs, it’s the most exercise you think you’ve gotten this year, and make it into the parking garage just as Songi unlocks her car. “Songi wait! Let me come with.” You yell, crossing over to her and throwing the passenger door open before she can say no.

“If you’re also getting a cat I get first dibs. It was my idea after all.” She says, waiting patiently for you to buckle up before pulling out. “Hey can you find directions for the nearest shelter? I know there’s one on third but I have no idea where third is.”

“Yeah I have the address for one.” You say, pulling up the place Jin sent you.

8 hours, 16 minutes, 24 seconds

The shelter itself is pretty small, but there’s a large fenced-in play area in the back. It’s filled with new toys and the sight makes you smile, especially at the few puppies that topple over each other when they trip while chasing one another. Your eyes linger on them a little longer and your heart pangs a little as you miss your dog from back home. You were supposed to see your family this winter season but all the flights in your home city were too expensive so you’ll have to see them after New Years instead. While you’ll get to see your family in a little over a week, you still miss them greatly especially when everyone is talking about going home to their own families.

“Do you want a dog instead?” Songi asks and you shake your head.

“No I don’t think I’m getting any pets. I have a umm friend who works here though.” You say, tucking your arm around hers and dragging her inside.

“Do you think they’ll give me a discount?” She asks, squeezing your arm when you tense at the little bell ringing above the door. At this point you hate bells and anything that has to deal with them.

“Maybe.”

“I’ll give you them free if you get two.” A smooth voice says, a boy with a black mullet and sharp eyebrows stepping in from the back. He smiles widely at you, rosy lips drawing into an almost blinding smile.

“Two might be a bit much for us.” You laugh stiffly. “I think we’re fine with just one.”

“Cat or dog?” He asks.

“Cat. Do you have any old cats? I’d like to give an elder guy a happy home.” Songi smiles and the beautiful man’s brows pinch.

“Taehyung is more familiar with the cats, I’ll go get him so he can show you around.”

“Sweet, thanks.” She says with a nod, tapping her feet to an imaginary beat. “Do you think I’ll find one that likes me? What if they all hate me?” Songi asks you, worry painted in her features.

“I’m sure they’ll all adore you. You’re difficult to not love.” You tell her, her shoulders sagging in relief.

“I just want to give them all the love in the world.” She says. “Oh do you think they sell collars? Something’s jingling.” She comments and before you can say anything the boy you first ran into last night appears. His boxy smile graces his features, dark eyes and long lashes fluttering as his gaze fixates on Songi.

“You’re the one looking for a cat?” He asks, his baritone voice causing a blush to rise to her skin. In fact, his voice when paired with his features seems to have glitched her brain out because she’s not moving at all. Her mouth is agape, her eyes wide as she takes in Taehyung. Several seconds have passed and she has yet to even so much as breathe. You nudge her shoulder and she seems to reboot, giving him a sheepish smile.

“Yeah.” She says breathily.

“Jaebum told me you wanted one of the older ones. I’ll show you the ones who’ve been here the longest too.” He says, urging you to follow him through the door on the left. “The first section is where we keep the older ones, hoping they’ll catch someone’s eye before they see the kittens.” He explains, gesturing to a large enclosure filled with cat beds and towers.

“Can we go inside?” Songi asks and Taehyung nods, opening the gate and allowing you both to enter before a cat can escape. Songi instantly takes a liking to a white fluffy one that’s sprawled on a blue bed in the corner. It’s ears twitch with each step she makes and she pauses when she’s an arms reach away.

“Hello.” She begins introducing herself to the cat and your eyes flicker to Taehyung who gazes at her almost fondly. Your stomach sinks because it’s clear you’re much more aware that Taehyung doesn’t have a belled collar in his pocket than Songi. Seeing her so clueless to her inevitable soulmate standing so close by allows you to give yourself forgiveness for being so clueless yesterday.

“That one’s named Gucci. Named him myself because he’s a rare breed.”

“Does that mean he’s going to be expensive too?” She jokes.

“Probably, he’s an old guy after all. Sometimes they develop health complications. This boy right here is thirteen and has been here for about two years I think?” Taehyung supplies and Songi immediately frowns.

“My poor baby.” She coos, gently reaching forward to scratch behind his ear and then further under his chin. “You wanna come live at my house? I’ll sneak you all the chicken you want.”

The cat just blinks at her, rather slowly, before sniffing her palm. Songi immediately takes this as a yes and tells Taehyung that she’ll take him. “A good choice if I must say so myself. You two look cute together.” Taehyung smiles before his eyes widen until they’re nearly entirely round like he didn’t realize what he was saying until it was already out of his mouth. He doesn’t retract them or try and make them less flirtatious however. He merely just walks away with a slight blush decorating the apples of his cheeks while mumbling about leaving to get paper work and a soft crate.

“You like him right?’ Songi asks and you just shrug despite the large smile pulling at your face.

“Taehyung? He seems really sweet.” You giggle to which she shushes you vehemently.

“He might hear you! Besides he’s way out of my league, there’s no way he’d like me back. Plus I already have a man in my life and he’s right here.” She tugs Gucci into her lap, pressing a small kiss to his nose.

“I will not let you turn into a cat lady. You’re already a hermit at twenty.”

“But people make me nervous.” She whines. Taehyung enters again before you can comment any further, the soft crate draped over his shoulder with a fluffy blanket tucked inside.

“I’ll come in with you and when you’re done signing, I’ll put him in the crate. Sometimes they put up a fight when you try and get them in there and I don’t want him scratching you.” Taehyung tells Songi and she just nods along. You can tell she’s stalling because the two pages takes her about five minutes, as she pretends to care about having neat handwriting. You’re pretty sure she’s working up the nerve to say something to Taehyung so you decide to do it for her.

“Taehyung do you have a collar on you? I think Gucci would look really cute with one with like a bowtie bell.” You ask and his mouth parts slightly open, brows pulled together in confusion. It gives off a similar vibe to when your puppy cocks his head to the side when it can’t figure out what you’re saying.

“We don’t have any collars here. We don’t want the animals to get caught on anything and owners usually like to pick out their own.”

“You mean you don’t have one in your pocket?” Songi asks, equally as confused. You love her but for being so academically smart she can be so slow.

“No.” Taehyung says before turning to her with startled eyes. “You can hear bells?”

“Yeah. Should I not be able to?”

“I can hear them too!” He yells, startling half the cats but he pays them no mind as he pulls her into a tight embrace. “I’m so happy, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you…my soulmate.” He says it dreamily even though Songi is right in front of him and although your chances of finding your own is dwindling significantly you can’t help but be happy for your friend. She’s lit up under Taehyung’s attention, smiling so wide you think your own cheeks are starting to hurt. “And you my little man,” Taehyung says, squishing Gucci’s head between his large hands. “I’m going to be your dad!”

7 hours, 45 minutes, 31 seconds until Christmas

After finally convincing Taehyung to let Songi go, only under the terms that you’ll meet him at a nearby diner to get food, you wind up back in your apartment. Mina is gone, probably either on her way home or out with Hoseok so it’s quiet when Songi enters with Gucci. It’s probably a good thing as Taehyung warned you both that moving was quite stressful for a cat and he’d want a quiet room to hang out by himself until he felt comfortable. Gingerly taking him to her room, Songi sets up his things before opening Gucci’s crate and quietly closing the door. “I hope he doesn’t pee on my stuff.” She comments suddenly.

“I doubt it. He probably won’t even leave the crate for a few hours.”

“You think he’ll like it here?” Songi asks, following you out of the apartment and back down to her car. Taehyung wanted to go to somewhere near his work since he biked there this morning and Songi was happy to oblige even if she normally hates driving at night.

“I think so, I know you’ll shower him with as much love as you can. He’d have no reason not to like it.”

“Taehyung?” She asks, laughing to herself for parroting you from earlier. “I know, you meant the cat. But on a serious note, the cat will like me better than him right? It’d be so depressing for my cat to like my boyfriend more than me.”

“Mmm that one is hard. Your boyfriend is scarily beautiful.”

“Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side.” Songi whines.

“I am, I’m just speaking facts. It doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful too.” Your phone buzzes and it’s a text from Mina asking what your plans are for tonight. You guess Mina didn’t go home after all.

“Is it okay if Mina comes along? Hobi’s probably with her too.” You ask, already typing out a reply because you know Songi will agree.

“That’s fine. But hey, can you give me directions again? I really don’t know where I’m supposed to be going.”

4 hours, 47 minutes, 27 seconds until Christmas

Songi is sidled up beside Taehyung, his arm resting on her leg while Hobi has his arm wrapped around Mina’s shoulders. You’re all crammed inside a small circular booth, mountains of food spread around the table as you joke around about nothing in particular. You had forgotten Taehyung and Hobi were close friends, having met so many of said friends that it feels like everyone is just a friend of a friend. And yet despite being the only one without a significant other, you don’t feel left out or lonely. In fact, you’re the happiest you’ve been these past two days as you listen to Taehyung ramble on about the time he had to streak across campus.

“Should I be horrified that the campus security guards know what my boyfriend’s dick looks like before I do?” Songi laughs.

“Hey they only got a preview, you get the full movie.” She giggles to which you all collectively groan.

“Gross!” Songi says, making Taehyung beside her pout.

“I don’t know why I thought finding Hobi would make you any less shameless.” You chuckle.

“Hey you all love me like this. Take it or leave it as they say.” Mina says, dipping a fry in ranch before popping it into her mouth. “You sure you can handle all this Hobi?” She asks to which he only winks. Lord help you, there’s two of them.

“I think our best moment was when we convinced Namjoon to sneak into the science labs and set all the testing rats free. Imagine this like six foot tall man screaming as a bunch of little white rats chase after him.” Taehyung giggles.

“What he didn’t know was that Jungkook had stuffed cheese into the pockets of his cargo pants so the rats were trying to get a midnight snack.” Hobi snickers.

“Where’d they all go?” Songi asks.

“They just kinda scattered around campus. I’m sure half of them live near the dining halls now.” Hobi says.

“Do you think they formed packs? Or are they like Remy from Ratatouille and are going to take over as chefs. The dining halls could really use an upgrade. Remember when we used to trek across campus just to get a decent dinner?” Taehyung asks.

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you two go and ask them?” Mina snickers.

“Jungkook.” They both say suddenly like that’s a reasonable and valid answer.

“Jungkook.” You repeat, the words somewhat familiar on your tongue. Why did you know that name? Pulling out your phone you look back to the list of names Hoseok had given you of those who wore Santa costumes and gasp. “Jungkook!”

“Yes that is his name.” Taehyung adds dryly.

“Jungkook was wearing a Santa suit! At the party. He’s one of the two left. Do you know where I can find him?” You ask and Hobi shrugs.

“He’s probably gone home by this hour. He was whining so much about missing his mom that I’m sure he left earlier this morning to go see her sooner.” You visibly deflate and Taehyung decides to offer up additional advice.

“Jungkook and Namjoon live together. That’s two of your list right? I’ll send you the address and you can see if anyone is home.”

“Don’t you think that’s a violation of privacy?” Hobi whispers.

“Nah it’s fine. A bunch of porn sights probably track their location with all the viruses Namjoon downloads anyways.” Taehyung says this so casually that you wonder if a big part of Namjoon’s personality is liking erotic videos. You really hope not, soulmate or not. You have a threshold for that type of conversation and Mina is relatively mild but even she regularly meets said threshold.

“Anyways, they’re not that far from here if you want me to walk you there. I live nearby anyways.” Taehyung offers.

“If you’re sure.”

“No problem.”

4 hours, 15 minutes, 53 seconds until Christmas

The apartment building is small, the colors muted brown and had Taehyung not pointed it out to you, you would’ve missed it entirely. The only source of light is small patio lights strewn between the buildings, the likes of which are only a few stories tall. Taehyung tells you the apartment number before riding off, leaving you to your own devices. Except, you realize too late that despite the buildings being rather old they’ve upgraded to modern systems. Which means you need a fob to get in. You could walk home and call it a night, but at this point you’re just annoyed and stubborn. So instead you meander through the convenience store for a half hour, pretending that you care about the difference between regular and kettle chips when you spot someone walking towards the gate. Abandoning the aisle, you hurry out of the store and cross the street.

“Hey! I lost my fob could you let me in?” You ask, a pleasant smile on your face to try and sway the guy. You can’t see his face well, it’s obscured by a black baseball cap but you can see the distrust in his eyes. “Please?” You try again.

“I guess.” He mumbles, holding the door for you to slip inside. You have half a mind to warn him against doing such things in the case of strangers only to realize that you are the stranger in this situation.

“Thanks!” You say, hurrying away before he can kick you out. The guy working the convenience store was definitely taking note of your blatant loitering and he didn’t seem like the type to ignore it. It turns out the building coordination here is quite complex because while you’d think 101-106 would be on the right and 093-100 on the left, 093-100 is actually the next building over. It’s like they put the apartment numbers in a random generator and just let that decide the order. You’re making your fifth round of building B like a creep when you decide to just sit in the stairwell in shame. It’s clear this apartment complex is your own personal form of hell for trying to best the soulmate system which so clearly doesn’t want you to find your soulmate before the holidays. You already have your phone out to call Mina and express your woes when you hear the door below you attached to the stairwell open. Before you can scramble out of the way a pair of multicolored chunky sneakers stand on the step beneath your own.

“You okay?” The stranger asks and you just nod. “Are you sure? You look a little lost.”

“Metaphorically and physically, yes I am very lost. I have somehow found my soulmate and forgot them within the same day, I’ve been running around the city chasing after fucking Santa like an insane person and I have no idea where the fuck apartment 387 is.” You sigh, glad to release at least some of your pent up frustration. The stranger takes a minute before holding out a hand for you to grab.

“Lucky for you I happen to know where apartment 387 is.” His smile is indented by deep dimples, nicely framing thick lips.

“Really?” You ask, slipping your hand into his own and allowing him to drag you up.

“Sure thing. If you’re this determined to meet your soulmate I’m sure they’re equally distraught at not finding you yet.” He offers thoughtfully and you just hum.

“I don’t know, don’t you think I’d have run into them by now? I’ve been all around the city today.”

“Two moving pieces are just as hard to connect as two not moving at all.” The stranger offers before stopping in front of door 387. Just as you’re about to thank him he unlocks it and looks back at you with a wide smile. “How about you come in and have a drink? He should be home soon anyways. Probably equally as frustrated as yourself.”

“If it’s not a bother…”

“Hey you’re my best friend’s soulmate, you’ll never be a bother. Besides I try and do one good deed a day, so reuniting lost lovers can be that.”

“Funny, Yoongi said the same thing.” You muse to yourself.

“Who do you think taught him? I’m Namjoon by the way.” You freeze, mind struggling to pair the apparent porn addict with the insightful, sophisticated man in front of you. He notices this pause and frowns. “What did one of my idiots for friends say?”

“Uhh…maybe just something about porn.” You mumble and Namjoon just takes a moment to deeply sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

“You should know they’re the ones who asked me to download it.” He huffs. “Chamomile or hot chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate is just fine.” You say, taking a a moment to observe the apartment. It’s decorated rather warmly, rich browns and black melding with soft orange. It feels a bit like you’re sitting at the edge of a bonfire, admiring the pretty glow it casts on everything. “Your decoration is really nice.” You say, taking note of the little wooden figures strewn across the living room. A small glass bunny makes you smile.

“Thanks I decorated it myself. I double major in interior design and business.”

“You think you could decorate my apartment? It’s terribly bland because my roommates and I all have different taste in decorating.”

“Sure thing, send me the dimensions and I’ll pick some stuff out. A lot of this is thrifted or from local vintage shops, so it’s not nearly as expensive as it seems.”

“Smart shopping, very sustainable.”

“What can I say? I’m a glutton for shopping but a stickler for lessening environmental footprints.” Namjoon says and you laugh, hiding your smile behind the mug he hands you. He even went so far as to add whipped cream at the top with chocolate shavings.

“Thank you. This is the best hot chocolate I’ve had so far.”

“Cool! I got some imported Belgian chocolate and-“

“Joonie I can’t do this anymore.” A third voice sounds before their body even enters the apartment, the front door thrown open carelessly as they flop themselves onto the couch. A jingle plays itself in your head, the bells have a rather bright sound. Namjoon urges you forward and you carry your mug with you just to keep your hands from shaking. “I’ve gone all over the city for nothing and of course when I come home to wallow in pity the bells are mocking me. They’re getting louder with each passing second Namjoon!” They whine, voice slightly muffled by the pillow.

“Would you like a hot chocolate?” You ask and they sit up so quickly that you jump back, sloshing some of the hot liquid onto your wrist. “Fuck! That’s so hot.” You whine, your supposed soulmate jumping over the back of the couch and holding your wrist gently in their hand.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” They say, but you can’t even feel the burn because your nerves are too focused on his touch. Goosebumps scatter across your skin, as he hurries you into the kitchen to run cold water over your wrist. His mouth is moving a mile a minute, murmuring apologies and yet you can only fixate on the mole on his lower lip and the way his dark hair hangs in his eyes, long lashes blinking away stray strands. His nose is strong, a pretty curve making it much too enticing for you to not kiss it at least once. He seems to notice you’re not paying attention because he finally turns to face you head on and it’s only then does he seem to recognize you.

Similarly to last time his eyes are wide, several emotions running through them that you attempt to read: confusion, surprise, relief. He almost sags against you, pulling you into him before you can even think of anything to say. With your nose tucked into his neck, you can feel his small tremors and attempt to suppress them by pulling him in tighter. “I-I didn’t think-“

“I know.” You shush him softly, taking in how warm and solid he is, how real he feels beneath your palms. He smells like fresh linen, and when he finally pulls far away enough that you can look into his eyes you kiss the tip of his nose. His cheeks flush but the hands on your waist tighten. “I’ve looked everywhere for you, you know?”

He scoffs. “I could say the same. Why’d you disappear yesterday? I thought maybe you realized you didn’t..want me.”

“That could and would never be it.” You reassure him, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. “I hate for this to be our first meeting but I was super drunk when we met. I couldn’t really think and my friend thought I was really sick so she took me home before I had the chance to say anything.”

“Jin did say you drank an entire bottle of schnapps. Thanks for that by the way, now I owe him a new bottle.”

“He knew?! Why didn’t he save us the heartbreak and force us together?” You ask and he turns his head towards the small kitchen window.

Scratching the back of his neck, he mumbles, “that might’ve been my fault. I was supposed to be hosting with Joon but decided I didn’t want the mess. By then word already got out so someone had to host. You could say this was my punishment that you unfortunately had to suffer through as well.”

“Next time I’m going to pour his schnapps down the drain instead. Better yet, we’ll buy a bottle, drink it and replace it with thick water!” You huff and he smiles.

“I like the way you think. But what is thick water?”

“I heard it’s the consistency of snot. I guess drinkable jello would be the closest texture.” He scrunches his nose in distaste and you smile. He’s so cute.

“I uhh-I’m Jungkook by the way. I don’t think I mentioned that.”

“Y/n.” He stares at you for a moment before placing both hands on your cheeks and placing a tender kiss to your lips. It’s soft and warm, very much like the man who stands in front of you.

“You’re the best gift I could’ve ever asked for.” He says and despite the cheesy line the sincerity with which he speaks warms you. His hand falls to your own, only when he brushes against your wrist do you hiss and the moment is broken. “Shit, I forgot. Don’t worry baby, I took sports medicine in high school, I’ll fix it up real quick.”

0 hours, 0 minutes, 10 seconds

Jungkook’s arms wrap tightly around your frame, the both of you cuddled into the thickest blanket he could find as you gaze at the city around you. Your wrapped wrist sits carefully against your chest, a heart drawn over the fabric by Jungkook himself. The city lights are so pretty at night, the sky clear enough that if you strain your eyes you can even make out a few stars. The only stars you’re concerned about though are the ones in Jungkook’s eyes, glittering prettily as the sign from the convenience store across the street illuminates them. He takes a sip of Namjoon’s hot chocolate from a thermos before handing it to you, brushing your hair out of your face that’s been displaced by the slight breeze. Despite the fact that you’re both shivering you don’t think you’ve been this warm in a while. It’s part of the reason you insisted to stay out here just a little bit longer even though Jungkook’s warm bed is waiting for you downstairs. You just wanted to be in your own world a little longer, wanting to have an excuse to mold yourself as closely against Jungkook as humanly possible. Clicking his phone the time illuminates, 11:59, staring back at you before flicking to 12:00.

“Merry Christmas Jungkook.” You murmur pressing a chaste kiss to his lips as he smiles.

“Merry Christmas baby.” He says. Your eyes fall back onto his own and he’s looking at you as if you’re his whole world. You know your own mirror the same sentiment and you press closer to connect your lips to his own, writing your future along his tongue.

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pinkanonwrites · 4 years

Note

Hii! Could u do A,B,C,K,V with Osamu, Ushijima, and Oikawa pls? Thank u💕

I would absolutely love to! NSFW Below!

Oikawa Tooru

A: Aftercare

Tooru is incredibly sweet on you after sex, tucking your sweaty hair out of your face, running his hands along the length of your back, murmuring soft praises in your ear. If you want to get up and shower he’ll whine about it dramatically, insisting the two of you should sleep instead. Of course it’s not like he’s gonna just let you shower alone if you do decide to get up.

B: Body Part

Oikawa knows he’s got nice hands, and he loves your reactions to his slightly calloused fingertips trailing oh so gently across your body. On you he’ll say it’s something cheesy and sweet like your smile, but in reality he really, really loves your butt. Especially in his hands.

C: Cum

I’ve always seen Oikawa as the kind of guy who doesn’t jerk off that often, either he’s worn himself out too much from practice or he’s just too stressed to think about it. Either way that means when he does cum, there’s a lot. Like, a lot. He goes off like a fire hose.

K: Kink

We all know Oikawa has the biggest praise kink imaginable, it’s impossible to deny. He likes to tease and act coy and in control but in reality all it takes are a few suggestive and saccharine compliments to get both him and his dick at your beck and call. Just call him a good boy and he’s putty in your hands.

V: Volume

Probably the loudest of the three you requested, but still not on the super loud side. You’re gonna get a lot of grunts and moans out of him, then some higher-pitched, desperate whines and gasps as he gets closer to finishing.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

A: Aftercare

A little awkward and incredibly blunt but still very, very sweet. He wants to know almost as soon as you’re done what you did and didn’t like, and if there’s anything he can do to make it better for you. If you try to get out of bed he’ll insist on helping you, even going so far to carry you if you seem a little weak in the knees.

B: Body Part

Ushijima doesn’t think about his physical appearance much, but if he had to pick he’d say his arms, more specifically his upper arms and shoulders. The same muscles he’s honed so well for volleyball are also perfect for picking you up or pinning you in place. On you he loves your neck, pressing his face into the sensitive skin that smells most like you, and the way your breath hitches and gasps if he presses a kiss or a bite in just the right spot.

C: Cum

Prefers not to make much of a mess, unless you both planned ahead of time with stuff to clean up with. If you blow him and he cums in your mouth he wants you to stick your tongue out and show him before you spit or swallow; He’ll never be able to explain just why he likes it so much.

K: Kink

You’d be the one introducing him to the kink scene, he wouldn’t know anything about it himself before you opened his eyes to the possibilities. Of what you’ve shown him, he has a particular lean towards spanking and other forms of impact play. When you first brought it up to him the image of you bent over his knee, wriggling and whimpering in his grasp as he brought his hand down on your ass careened into his mind so fast he thought he’d given himself head rush.

V: Volume

Quietest of these three, You’re not going to get much out of Wakatoshi besides some low grunts and the occasional groan. When he finishes it’s almost always with a long, drawn out groan, almost tense-sounding.

Osamu Miya

A: Aftercare

“...So, you still alive there?”

He keeps things pretty light. If you’ve come out of a scene where some heavier aftercare may be needed he’s happy to provide it, but on a typical night he’ll probably just pull you against him so your head is resting on his shoulder and have a little pillow talk. Subconsciously he’ll run his knuckles up and down the length of your arm in long, soothing strokes, watching you lull off to the low rumble of his voice.

B: Body Part

Probably his chest. He’s always a little extra sweet on you when your run your hands down his broad chest with amazement in your eyes and voice, and you sleepily resting your head on his bare chest never fails to make his heart skip a beat. Osamu loves a good pair of legs, and if he could live with your thighs squished around his head at all times he probably would.

C: Cum

If he’s not cumming inside you he’s cumming on your chest, so be sure to have a towel ready. His cum is always a thick, milky white, even after you’ve made him cum two or three times.

K: Kink

I’ve already established his love of legs, and that love extends to a love of stockings, garters, boots, and heels. He loves the sexy look of a good pair of heels and stockings as much as the powerful aura you give off in boots or a garter belt. No matter what combination you’re wearing he’s gonna go wild for it, especially if you let him rip the stockings off of you.

V: Volume

Like I said, all three of these guys seem on the quieter side to me, with a little more volume for Oikawa. But I think what Osamu lacks in volume he more than makes up for in whispered teases and praises, depending on the mood. He’s just as willing to tell you how good you’re being for him as he is to say what a dirty little slut you’re being, whatever he needs to whisper in your ear to get you moaning his name.

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuucreations #haikyuu lemon #oikawa tooru #oikawa imagines #oikawa x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima imagines #ushijima x reader #osamu miya #osamu imagines #osamu x reader #friday night fever #fnf

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honesthammie · 3 years

Text

Te amo

I am working on a few of the other prompts and a part 2 to prompt 4 the soulmate au I just recently got another puppy and I still have uni work to do so I'm a bit behind schedule with these and I'm so sorry. Hopefully this little kinda songfic makes up for it.

13th doctor x female reader

Warnings: swearing as usual, fluffy, sad thoughts, twist the original songs meaning, long as fuck.

Probably terrible as its my first songfic

I don't know much Spanish so some of the examples later on are Google translated and I know it can be wrong so I do apologise for any mistranslations

This is based off Rhiannas song Te Amo but I'm switching it up a little. I dont why 13th doctor came into my head when I was listening to it but it gave me this lil oneshot idea so enjoy! The picture is not mine but the rainbow effect added is done by me! Same for the picture later on.

I've been travelling with this amazing alien for a whole year now. The adventures are always amazing if she's there! The others sometimes complain and say its boring, especially on a junk planet but to see her face light up with excitement makes my day and it well worth the dirt we cover ourselves on by the time we are done. And when she finds something that she thought was useful and it turns out, it's not her scrunch is amazing.

Okay, I'll admit it. I'm in love with this alien. I know, weird, a human and an alien together? But I can't help it! I'm completely besotted with her. If she even looks in my direction, my legs go to jelly and I get butterflies. I know, cheesy. But thats exactly how I feel around her. I barely want to touch her because I nearly fainted the last few times. And I fear she may pick up on how I'm distancing myself from her. I don't want to break her heart and leave, the thought of her look kills me as is so I'm trying to get her to kick me off.

It doesn't seem to be working though. I've been distancing myself since I found out about how I feel, which is now 6 months ago and she's trying to get me to be as close as I was with her.

I'll tell her. On one of our amazing adventures but I can't do it straight forward, it's making me sick with anxiety just thinking about it. I'll fancy it up, make her work it out. Whenever we are next to each other and the moment is right, I'll tell her in another language!

I finally get out of bed after I finished writing in my diary. I slip some comfy clothes on and head out to the TARDIS library and hope no one is there, especially her. I'll be distracted and right now, I need to concentrate. I wonder the warm halls, grateful that the TARDIS had considered my preferences. I think the TARDIS likes me more than the others because I talk to her and show her gratefulness for taking us somewhere amazing and I chat to her regularly and I try to involve her in my conversations. The others find it weird, except for the Doctor, she just smiles and joins in with me. Im still learning how to translate her but I think I've sort of got it.

I reach my hand forward and grab the aged bronze doorknob and open to the giant room. There were so many floors that an elevator had to be used to access some of them as the Doctor said "walking would literally take weeks to reach some floors". Thankfully the TARDIS organises them to make them easier to find. I looked forward and saw an interactive map in front of me. My hands touched the screen and many subjects and categories came up. Anything ranging from kiddie tales to straight up smut, I have a feeling either River or Missy are to blame for that addition.

I've never met them but the TARDIS showed me videos from her database and brought books to my attention about them. They both seem very dirty minded people so I'm not surprised those are there. I wonder if the Doctor has ever stumbled upon this section or is it for none Doctor eyes only? If she does know about them, has she ever read one? No, don't go there you stupid brain! She probably doesn't know!

I quickly stop that train of thought and catch my breath. I've never thought about those kinds of things about anyone before. Stupid Timelord, making me go all weird and think dirty things. Now my face is all red, I really hope I'm alone in here. I quickly focus back to the task at hand, finding a new language to learn. The TARDIS seemed to know where to go and blue arrows appeared, guiding me to the right section in what could be a maze.

As I walking, I felt excitement rise within me. What if she felt the same way? What if she was impressed by how far I wanted to go just to say those 3 words? Would her hazel honey eyes sparkle with delight? Would she scronch her nose in amazement?

Before I knew it, I'd arrived at the language learning section and there were many alien languages but the TARDIS seemed to have a better idea of what would be perfect for me as a white hardback book fell off the 4th shelf onto the wooden floor. I picked it up and noticed how smooth the cover was and how old yet unused it looked. The white was a little off, almost a dull cream from ageing which made the gold writing harder to read. The title was simple:

Spanish basics and need to knows.

I did always find Spanish in school fun to learn, more than French or German anyway and I don't wanna stereotype this into a typical French is the language of romance. I never really found it romantic sounding compared to Spanish.

I picked up the book and quickly flicked through to the right page and took a note on my phone as to what the translation was and put the worn book away. I quietly thanked the TARDIS and rushed out of the library and back into my room where I could practice without getting caught.

A few weeks have passed since I picked up the new words and practiced them until I was confident and had the TARDIS' approval that I was saying it right. Today the Doctor wanted to take us to this party in the 18th century and we all decided to dress for the part once we landed.

Yaz was wearing a beautiful black and red ballroom gown, accented with little bows around the bottom and lace cuffs. She had her black hair curled into a ponytail. It was simple and cute, much like her style normally. Graham and Ryan wore similar suits but Graham wore green accents and Ryan wore yellow accents.

I let the TARDIS pick my dress. She picked a black and dark blue ballroom gown with blue roses on the bottom. It had black lace underneath and blue lace as the cuffs. The gown also seemed to glitter slightly in the light making me sparkle very subtly. I put my comfy boots on as you couldn't see my shoes as I walked anyway so why did it matter? With all the running we do, I'm not risking my ankles with heels, thank you very much. I had my (h/c) hair in (fave style). It suited my dress perfectly.

I nearly choked on oxygen when I saw how hot the Doctor looked in her suit. It took me a few moments to realise we match. We both blushed at the realisation. Of course the TARDIS makes us match! No wonder why she was more than eager to help me pick an outfit! Stupid sentient ship, shipping us already!

I quickly cleared my throat and complimented everyone on how amazing they looked but I just couldn't take my eyes off the Doctor for long. She was like a magnet for my eyes. Someone help before she realises!

"Don't we all look brilliant? Perfect for the party! 18th century Yorkshire to be exact! What a great century for you guys. Now then, this party is for Nobles and higher, as per usual in these times. Ryan, I suggest you keep in mind about any racist comments that may come out. But as long as you say your Graham's personal butler, you should be welcomed with little resistance. And Yaz, I want you to be (y/n)'s personal maid. That does mean you'll have to follow your so called "masters" around and do anything they ask unfortunately and Graham, (y/n), please act like the others around you and use them. Unfortunately this is the only way all 5 of us can join the party. You'll be fine as long as you bite your tongues. Now the Noble Edward Collins is the host so be sure to thank him for inviting you, even though you technically weren't. And try not to get too drunk, I know what you humans are like! Now follow me." The Doctor explained. I was going to tell the Doctor today, but I guess, I'll have to wait.

The Doctor opened the doors and we were in a cupboard under some gorgeous marble stairs. As we walked towards the party I noticed some family portraits along the walls. They were a very beautiful looking family. The mother had long blonde hair and pale blue eyes. The father was buff, long brown hair and daring brown eyes. There were two children, a girl and a boy. The girl had long brown hair and sparkling blue eyes, whilst the son had blonde hair and brown eyes. They also had a brown greyhound dog laying by the sons feet. The son must be the host, Edward. He looked not much older than 10 in the last painting but the daughter was no where to be found in the portrait and theu all looked mournful. Is she dead and is that the picture capturing the moment of grief? Why would anyone want that? It's so strange, even for this time period.

The Doctor held me and Yaz close, stopping us in our tracks. My heart was racing at the simple touch. But as soon as the touch was there, it was gone. "I hope its okay with you (y/n) but you're going to have to be married to someone."

My heart stopped for a moment and I nearly choked on air. "What? Why?"

"Because women like yourself would have been married as young as 13 or 14. Now your only choices are me and Graham. You can't choose Ryan as he's supposed to be a butler and you can't choose Yaz as she's your maid. The choice is yours, I just need to know wether or not I should refer to you as my darling wife or not?"

What. The. Fuck.

Why did her even calling me that l, turn me on? Obviously, I'm going to choose her but I'm going to have to perfect my reasoning here.

"As much as I love Graham, it's going to be awkward if I have to kiss him or anything because he's like my grandad! I guess you'll do Timelord. Come on then husband, we don't want to be late to the dancefloor!" I spoke clearly hoping she didn't notice how excited I actually was to have even a hint of a relationship with her. It may be fake but ill take anything when it comes to her.

We arrived at the welcome committee and handed our cards over, aka the psychic paper. We were going as Mr and Mrs (last name). The Doctor was holding my hand this entire time and it's driving me insane. I don't know if she can feel my racing pulse under her fingers but if she can I hope she puts it down to excitement! We walked down the most grandest staircase you would ever lay your eyes on.

First we walked around, greeting everyone as they came up to us or if she dragged me to someone she knew, but not personally. She was cute when she was fangirling over these people. Yaz found it annoying as she just wanted to party but I couldn't help it. The way her eyes shimmer with recognition was more beautiful than any galaxy she could ever take us. Sometimes her eyes flickered with admiration and it did make me have jealousy for just a moment before I remembered, I'm staying with her and they aren't .

As the party moved on we met the host Edward. He looked a lot different than in his paintings. He was around 20 years old now and his blonde hair was below his shoulders. He looked a lot like his father with his muscley build. And he was very charismatic which I did not like as he poured all his charm into the Doctor. Does everyone here know that he's gay or does he see through the Doctors disguise? Either way, it was rubbing me the wrong way. I quickly excused myself with Yaz and walked into the bathroom.

"I did not like him. I do not like this Edward guy. Something about him rubs me completely wrong. He's handsome but something is telling me he knows the Doctor isn't a man."

"I felt the same way. He knows something we don't. Before we go out there again, do you mind if I ask you a question?" Yaz asked. My mind was racing a hundred miles an hour. She knows. The jig is up with Yaz. "How do you feel about her, honestly? One minute you 2 are inseparable, then you distance yourself and now you are a nervous wreck around her! I won't judge but I just want to make sure my theory is correct."

Shit. I guess I really was obvious. Does she know?

"If your theory is about me falling hopelessly in love with the Doctor then you'd be correct. I can't help it. I'm going to tell her how I feel without being completely stupid. I just need a right moment to say it." I spoke with a heavy sigh. Hopefully, Yaz can help create that moment thay I need. She nods her head and opens the door. We walk back to the Doctor and notice Edward has gone to other guests and she was talking to Graham. I looked around and saw Ryan flirting with a pretty lady near the food table. Why am I not surprised?

A few hours had passed and the Doctor seemed bored with standing and talking so I made a plan in my head. I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the dancefloor as the next song came on. I didn't quite know how to dance properly but I knew the basics if it. She has to lead and I simply follow suit. It took a few moments but I got the hang of it with the Doctors help. Soon we were dancing so gracefully underneath the most beautiful candelabra that lit up her face perfectly.

Her hair swayed to our perfect dance ever so gently. Her eyes sparkled with amusement and her lips were in a permanent smile. She even laughed a couple of times. Then as the music slowed down to a pace that was perfect, I grabbed her waist and looked her. My heart was going crazy and my legs were about to buckle but I had rehearsed my lines. I can do this.

"Hey Doc. Its been an amazing time with you but I can't continue this without being honest with you. But everytime I get close, I back down in fear. So I'm going to let you figure it out. Doctora te amo. Entiendo que si no sientes lo mismo y me iré si quieres. (Doctor i love you. i understand if you don't feel the same way and i'll leave if you want.)" I spoke with as much passion and intention as I could. I looked into her eyes and saw her confused and trying to work out what I said. I would find it cute if my heart was beating right out of my chest. "Well, I've had a great time but I'm fucking knackered. I'm calling it night. I'll be heading to the TARDIS if you need me."

"I'll come with ya. I'm knackered as well and we both need each other to undo the corsets and mine is starting to hurt a little bit. How we used to do this for a full day, everyday, is beyond my understanding. As beautiful as we look, I don't think its worth the pain this will bring in the morning." Yaz spoke with a slight mumble as proof of her mental state and finishing with a yawn. I chuckled at her state and walked back to the TARDIS with a small amount of chat along the way.

She is right though. These corsets really do hurt you after a while, I'm glad I chose not to wear heels or else I'll be fucked for in the morning. I would literally scream. I think the Doctor had the right idea in wearing a suit, no pain. I do feel bad for leaving her but I just need some space after basically admitting everything that's been built up within me for too damn long. Maybe I should tell Yaz how it went and maybe she can help determine if the Doctor is happy or not.

We walked back into the wardrobe room and I helped Yaz out of her corset. She immediately sighed in relief. She finished getting herself into comfy clothes and started to untie my ribbon.

"So did you tell her?"

"Sort of. I basically told her everything but in Spanish. I just hope it doesn't change anything, except in a positive way, of course! If she wants me gone, I've told her that it's fine and I understand. She's very socially awkward and as cute as I find it, it may not help me in this situation. Do you have any clues on how she may react once she figures it out?"

Yaz stopped untying my corset for a moment and placed 1 finger upon her chin in thought. Her eyes were almost shut and seemed almost completely black in the light. After what seemed like forever, she took her finger off her chin and beamed a toothy smile. Her eyes sparkled as she remembered something and seemed to gleam slightly menacingly. A smirk replaced her smile soon after.

"There's a few times she's shown affection towards you. And I mean romantic affection. She always chooses to hold your hand over anyone else's if given the choice. She always steps I'm front of you when an enemy threatens to kill us all or hurt us in anyway. When you go wandering around on your own, she's terrified thats she's lost you forever to an enemy we don't even know of!" Yaz starts explaining carefully as if she's worried on how to word it.

"Those are just friendly affec-"

"I wasn't done. I was warming up." Yaz interrupts me as I was about to go into a self deprecating speech on how I'm just a friend to everyone and never a lover. "She always looks to see your face on adventures because she secretly loves your reactions, bad or good. When the Master revealed himself, she looked straight at you for support on how she should react. When she came back from the Kasavin, she ran straight to you and made sure you were ok first before any of us. When we were in the Tsungra medical ship, the first person she asked for was you! Whilst she was unconscious on board the ship, she kept mumbling your name, over and over again. When she saw how gorgeous you looked today, I thought she'd take you right there on the spot! She fucking loves you (y/n)! You're just so unbelievably blind to it all!"

Yaz was almost red with rage. Did she really do all that, for me? The TARDIS mustve read my mind and seemed to hum positively in reply. If everything Yaz said is true then she'll be so happy about it and maybe we can be a thing! But then again, maybe losing so many in a similar position as me will turn her away. Maybe her soul is awry and she's asking why right now.

Once I had gotten changed I went to sleep almost straight away, I suppose all that dancing and social ques having tired me out more than I thought.

I woke up to a soft knock on my door. I rubbed my (e/c) eyes and told them I'd be a few minutes as I've only just woken up. It wasn't until I finished brushing my (h/c) hair that I remembered what happened yesterday. All the panic rushed within me at once and I nearly threw up. I took several deep breaths and opened the door.

"GRAHAM THANK FUCK ITS YOU!" I almost shouted at him. He looked a little bewildered for a moment before he seemed to remember what brought him here in the first place.

"Hello Love, I'm here because Doc wanted to speak with you privately in the library. She says that the TARDIS will guide you to her location. She seemed a little off after you and Yaz left. Did something happen? Is everything ok?" Graham asked cautiously. He must be so confused.

"Sort of. I'll explain more when I get back but what do you mean by "a little off"?"

"Well she seemed lost in all sense of the word. She kept muttering "Te Amo" all the time. She was all over the place aswell. She got me and Ryan back here not long after you guys. Something about not trusting Ryan to not get alcohol poisoning without her around. She hasn't really left the library since if I'm honest. She's been in there for 12 hours. I only know she wants you because she whattsapped me on my phone. Whatever is going on, please sort it out, she's starting to really worry me. She hasn't been the same since that Master guy came around." Graham spoke clearly, albeit confused. I nodded my head and walked in the opposite direction to him and hoped the TARDIS would take me there quicker than normal. I want to treat this like a plaster, rip it off in one go.

Sooner than I realised, I grabbed the all too familiar door knob of the library. I took a deep breath and walked in. A blue line appeared towards the interactive map. I awakened the console and I saw a black screen with a few words on it. It looked like a message with how it was presented.

Hello (y/n)! Don't walk until you calm. Breath deeply and try not to panic. I promise you, all will work out in the end. I see more than you realise and I know my thief better than anyone whoever stepped foot into my being. I know of her main problem about the situation. If she loves you, drink this. It won't hurt, she'll know what it is.

The TARDIS

I should have been surprised by this new knowledge that she could speak to me, in a way, but I've seen so much and I am so tender hooks so I didn't take much notice of it. I quickly sat down and tried to control my breathing. After about 5 or so minutes, I felt calm enough to finally meet up with her and hear what she has to say.

I followed the blue line carefully until I spotted her in a comfy room. She mustve gotten changed at some point as she was wearing her usual rainbow outfit, minus the jacket. She was sat on a deep purple sofa, legs curled into her body. Her shoes were on the carpeted floor underneath her, seemingly forgotten for the moment. There were many books surrounding us from many cultures and spieces. One wall had a cozy wood burning fireplace crackling within the silence that surrounded us.

Her face was scrunched within deep thought. Her eyes sparkling with an emotion that I couldn't quite put my finger on; hope, sorrow or excitement? Her lips had a small smirk gracing them and her teeth had bitten a small part of it. Her hands were holding a book in a way where I couldn't quite see what it was.

I didn't want to disturb her as she looked so ethereal with the warm glow of the fire highlighting her in the perfect way. Unfortunately, it's plaster time and I wanted this sorted sooner rather than later. I took a deep breath took in the picture for memory.

"Hey, Graham said you wanted to talk to me? Is everything ok?" I asked gently and as softly as I could so she was carefully brought out of her little world. I didn't want to scare her. She raised her eyes from her book for a moment and bookmarked the page she was at with a little TARDIS paperclip. She placed the book on the table at the side of her and patted the seat next to her.

As I sat down my nerves were through the roof. She gave nothing away as she stared at me for a minute, as if assessing something about me.

"Why are you so nervous? Calm down. You are right, It is to do with last night. You left pretty abruptly after basically confessing your feelings to me. I was so confused, not just about what you said but about myself and what I wanted to do about you." The Doctor spoke monotonously. Did she mean get rid of me? "I had to first of all, find out what you said, well done on learning a new language by the way, one even I'm not fluent at. I'm guessing the old girl had something to do with that idea. Not that, you aren't smart enough but you don't know what languages I do or don't know."

The Tardis seemed to chuckled at the accusation and I simply nodded my head. "I wanted to buy myself time and to impress you."

"You impressed me a long time ago Miss (l/n). That is just a cherry on top. After I figured out what you said, no thanks to my old friend here, I went through a lot of thinking. I've not been in many relationships and you know my history regarding the ones I have been in. You know, River and Missy? And I have such a bad past with it ending in nothing but tears for me. I always lose those I care for deeply." She spoke with tears spilling from her gorgeous eyes. I grabbed her face gently and wiped away the stray tears that managed to escape their home.

"That was when you were a man. You're a woman now, everything is so different. Relationships can be heartbreaking. I know what you're main problem is and the TARDIS has a solution to that. I just need you to tell me the truth. How do you feel about me? Do you want me to stay or not?" I stated holding the small shot glassed amount of liquid in my hand. The liquid was golden and sparkled slightly in the light. There were specks of orange and silver within it and it was as hot as a nice cup of (hot drink). Her eyes sparkled with hope and shock. Her lips were smiling wide. And she seemed to giggle at the sight of it. She held it for a moment as if examining it like a rare artefact, maybe it was. Either way, I trust her judgement and if she's happy about it, then so am I. Once she had analysed the drink, she practically leapt into my arms and pushed me down on my back. She smelled of custard creams and the TARDIS which was odd but completely her and I couldn't imagine her smelling any other way.

"That does solve our problem! What she has just given you is the rarest liquid in the universe seeing as only one thing in the entirety of space can produce it. That drink is known as the nectar of the chosen ones. It's rare as the race that used to make them has practically gone extinct. There's only 3 left in the known universe and you're living in one. That drink is the blood of the TARDIS. It grants you immortality if you drink it. It is said to resemble your favourite beverage no matter who you are. However, it only lasts 100 years and you must drink it every century or else your body clock will kick in and you will age and be as mortal as you are now." She speaks with a warning as we sit up holding holds.

"I have no problem with that. I would sacrifice everything if it meant I got to call you mine. Just please tell me and I'll drink it." I told her with adoration in my eyes.

She held me close and planted a soft and gentle kiss to my lips. It was short but it sent more fireworks than you can imagine through my body. I knew I had found her. She grabbed my waist and whispered next to my ear:

"Te Amo"

#13th doctor #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor x reader #female reader

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willwriteforhugs · 3 years

Text

the boy in the bookstore (part one)

in which you meet a suspiciously handsome boy in your favorite bookstore- but are not cultured enough to know his true identity.

ateez scenario

yeosang x (fem) reader

word count: 1.5k

g: fluff, angst if you’re a sensitive bitch

warnings: none really, light kissing and possible innuendo in later parts

notes:

there are a few things that may turn inconsistent for you personally (aka the POV being american, bilingual, etc. nothing major tho!)

also: if you enjoyed this, i am 100% looking for requests. can be aus, scenarios, or whatever! (atm i can write for atz, skz, bts, and itzy)

happy reading!!

part one

the morning of november 12th is a dreary one. when you wake up, you have little to no motivation to go to work. it's a downcast, rainy day, and seoul looks as sad as it's probably capable of looking.

work is slow. you work on your current project, but writing today feels like this: you write out a sentence. then you delete it. and then you rewrite the exact same sentence. you do this for eight hours, and by the end of it, the air seems thick with your desire to leave.

as you leave the building, a few coworkers try to spark conversation.

“oh, y/n-ssi, you should come have soju with us later, we-”

“hey, y/n! do you want to-”

you don't let any of them finish. today had not been not your day. actually, when was the last time any day had been “your day?” you are exhausted, burnt out. you miss your family, who are busy living halfway across the world. you miss your father, long dead after a tragic accident when you were young. you miss the fleeting friendships of your childhood. you miss what it felt like to have someone greet you as you came home after a long day. you miss being loved.

as you begin your long walk home, a thought occurs to you. when had you last visited the bookshop? it had probably been a while since you’d seen mrs. seon… maybe you should stop by. after all, a trip to the 30 year old bookshop might brighten your mood.

twenty minutes later, you shuffle awkwardly through the front doors of “bookshop”, careful not to get your dripping shoes too close to the new releases. and yes, the store was called “bookshop”. in reality, the store had simply never been named, but everyone who visited it knew it as just the bookshop. you glance around, hoping to find mrs. seon, but she was nowhere in sight. that was alright though… more time to browse. you scrape the last bits of rain off your boots and wander towards the back of the store. this was your favorite part of the whole establishment, and that was saying something. the whole shop was filled to the brim with battered books- centuries old classics, modern literature, old journals of long dead men… and many of the books were not korean, but european or american. this was possibly the most diverse bookstore in seoul. you adore it. but the back of the store was especially amazing. this was where the seon family kept the american classics. authors like john steinbeck and f. scott fitzgerald lined the shelves, their colorful spines making a bold statement about the content within. most were old, beaten up copies, but many of them were in english- something you secretly love.

letting loose a small smile, you run your fingertips along the book spines. suddenly, you see a blur of movement out of the corner of your eye. you whirl around, swiveling your body to your left. and in front of you, not even six feet away, is a boy. a...a beautiful boy. you feel your breath catch. holy shit, he was gorgeous. pale blond hair frames a sharp, tanned face- the boy has sleek, judging eyes, and higher-than-god-himself cheekbones. for a moment you just stare. you can’t help it. but the boy doesn't look up. you lower your eyes again, shifting your attention back to the books. honestly, you aren't sure why you’d reacted like that. he hadn’t said or done anything. and though he is attractive, you are relatively uninterested. this is a bookstore, after all. this is where people came when they didn’t want to talk to people.

a few minutes pass quietly, and you continue to browse the books. after finally deciding on a collector’s copy of steinbeck’s east of eden, you look up again. and there he is. looking right at you. as soon as your eyes connect with his, though, his shoot back down to the phone in his hand. you blink, wondering if he needs anything.

another beat passes. he glances up again, and this time, you force him to hold your gaze, shooting him a small smile. you see his eyes widen slightly before you turn on your heel and head towards the front of the store.

by the time you reach the checkout counter, an employee is there to assist you. she smiles and makes small talk while bagging your new treasure, then sends you on your way. no longer thinking about the blond boy, you pull up your hood and leave to head home.

only a few minutes had passed since you’d left the store when it happens. you feel odd, like someone is watching you...at first you think you’re imagining things, but as you turn around, you are face to face with the boy from the bookstore. a small gasp escapes your lips.

“oh,” is the first thing he says.

you take a step back. "oh-uh," you stumble to find the right words. "hello."

without a word, the boy straightens his stance and reaches towards you. instantly wary, you take another step back. but his arm stops short. resting in his slim hand is a small brown wallet. wait- your wallet. you hesitate, then begin to dig through your shoulder bag. sure enough, the wallet is absent. you look back up into his brown eyes, startled by the intensity of his gaze.

"you- you dropped this." he says quietly.

his voice also startles you. it has a low pitch, but is painfully soft. it reminds you of something, but you don't know what.

"oh, wow. thank you so much," you manage, reaching for the wallet. as you take it, his long fingers brush yours; the lightest touch. his hands are freezing.

"your hands are so cold!" you remark, surprising yourself. talking to strangers in the street. what have you become, y/n?

the young man's pride must have faltered, and his ears turn an endearing pink color.

"it's getting cold out, you really should wear some gloves or something."

he raises his eyebrows. "you aren't wearing any either."

without missing a beat, you respond: "i run hot."

a smile plays at his lips. "well then, i guess i'll wear gloves next time."

up close, you notice he is even more beautiful than you had anticipated. he wears no visible makeup, and he has a big pink birthmark near one of his eyes. it's mesmerizing. by now, you've completely forgotten about your foul mood from earlier.

"by the way," he continues, still speaking quietly. "are you a regular at that shop?"

you pause. "i guess you could say so. i know the owners pretty well, too. mrs. seon is practically my mom here..." you chuckle.

he tilts his head. "what do you mean?"

"oh, it's just that my own family doesn't live here." you pause, and decide you need to elaborate. "i'm american."

his eyes widen, just the tiniest bit. "oh, are you? i wouldn't have known. your korean is amazing."

"well, it is my first language, so i'd hope so." you laugh a little. "but yeah, my family lives in america. i moved here when i was sixteen- i wanted to be an idol." you admit.

this seems to take him by surprise.

you continue without being prompted. "i was a trainee for a few years, but... it just.. it didn't work out. but when it was over, i realized i just couldn't force myself to leave korea. i love it too much."

he nods. "i think i know what you mean."

"so i'm just a student now. turns out i probably should have planned to go to school even if i had debuted... oops."

he nods again, his face remaining neutral and distant.

realizing how much you had just revealed, your body stiffens. "anyways. um, it was nice meeting you-" you pause. he hadn't told you his name.

"yeosang." he said, reading your mind. "my name is yeosang."

"oh. well, it was nice to meet you, yeosang, but i really should be going."

he hesitates, opening his mouth as if to say something. but he closes it and gives a small smile. "okay."

you give a small bow and turn to leave, but he catches you by the arm. "but wait, i want to know your name, too."

you glance back at him, into his eyes, which are shining with hardly hidden curiosity. "y/n." you say.

"y/n," he repeats, as if committing it to memory. "okay, now you can go."

and with that, the two of you parted, going back home to two very different lives.

edit: part two is up now. thank you for reading!!

#ateez imagines #yeosang x you #yeosang x reader #yeosang #ateez #ateez fics #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #yeosang scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kang yeosang #kang yeosang x reader #self insert #fanfic #bts #ateez angst #willwriteforhugsfics

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maira-writes-shit · 3 years

Text

Salt, saltier, Yahaba and Shirabu

Haikyuu Yahaba Shigeru and Shirabu Kenjirou friendship

Fluff, mild angst, Yahashira childhood friends

Yahaba and Shirabu met when they were 8.Some may ask: How did that happen? Well this is the story:

Both of them had been dragged to a business dinner by their parents...

Shigeru’s parents were business people. That’s just what they were.Everything they did, they did it for business.

They got married for tax benefits and to combine their companies. Sure they did love each other but that wasn’t the main reason they got married.

They got children for image. They used them to seem closer to the „average family“, to try and seem more trust worthy and kind.

So that’s what he was here for.“And this is our son Shigeru.“,his mother said with a fake smile on her thin lips. She was talking to a small woman with copper hair. Something suddenly moved behind her legs and Yahaba tried to get a glance.

The woman took a step back and a boy with the same copper hair as the woman became visible.

He was a little bit shorter than Shigeru, had chocolate brown eyes and a pale complexion.

“Well this is Kenjirou!“, Shigeru’s mother put out her hand, she had to crouch down a little do to her wearing the heels that her son always wonder how she could even walk in, the boy -Kenjirou- took her hand and nodded to her.

The two women walked away chatting with equally fake smiles and cheerful voices, leaving their sons on their own.

The awkward silence between stretched out for multiple minutes until Kenjirou sighed.

“I’m Kenjirou Shirabu...“

“Well I know that.“, Shigeru whispered looking away.

“Hey jerk! I’m trying to talk to you!“ „Well you're not succeeding!“ „You’re talking to me, right?!“

Shigeru opened his mouth but shut it again.

He was right

The taller pouted.

“Why are you like this?“

“I’m trying to not fuck this up for my parents.“ at that Shigeru looked up at Kenjirou.

„What do you mean?“ „We just moved here and my dad says he needs friends under the other higher ups...“...“I’m Shigeru Yahaba. You’re the first other kid I’ve seen here.“

“Really?“ „Yeah. I only come along for the image.“„Well I guess we will probably have to cross paths a few more times so-“, Kenjirou extended a hand with a sly look on his face „-We should probably get along.“

Start

They were 11.

They had ended up on the same middle school.

Easy to say:The teachers both hated and loved them.

Both were smart and talented people and they knew it. And they abused it.

They didn’t pay attention in class and would always make snarky remarks only loud enough for each other to hear because they knew they could keep up.

Fun

They were 12.

“You know...I think I wanna join the volleyball club.“

Kenjirou looked up from his homework a bit startled.

“Huh?“ „I mean every time we play in gym class I just have so much fun and it makes me feel good! You know?“

Do I know? Yes I do know.

“I feel like I have the control yet at the same time I can play in a team!“

“I want to join too!“ „Really?!“ „Yeah! We can play together!“

Friendship

They were 14.

Sweat was dripping down Shigeru’s face.

24:23 for the other team...it seems useless...

The silver haired boy turns his face to his best friend.

I can’t do it. It’s too much.

Those thoughts wash away as soon as he sees him.

He was determined.

That’s what he admired the most about Kenjirou...he didn’t give up.

Shigeru was weak alone. All it took was a B on a test to send him spiraling but Kenjirou was always there.Kenjirou was his setter and Shigeru was his spiker.

They were feared for being able to know exactly what the other was thinking.

They were a threat.

Shigeru couldn’t do it on his own...but he wasn’t on his own.

Kenjirou was there and he was looking at Shigeru with that look of determination that always made him go though with all the shit they thought of.

They won.

Determination

They were 14.

This wasn’t normal.

He shouldn’t feel like this.

But he did.

Chikara Ennoshita.

The brown haired boy had been his and Shigeru’s friend since the start of middle school. He was smart, determined, kind and he was able to handle the combined salt level of both Shigeru and Kenjirou.

He had been his first real friend after Shigeru.

And now here he was...having a crush on him.

That’s all it was though: a crush. Still...he was a guy...This wasn’t right.

“Kenjirou? You ok?“

The copper haired boy jumped a bit at his best friends voice. He looked up and-“Shigeru I think im gay-“

Why did I say that? I never planned on telling anyone! Let alone Shigeru...what will he think of me now-?

“Same.“

“Wait what?“

“Well I’m not completely gay- I do also like girls...so bi? Maybe even pan or something...I don’t know yet.“

„Wait you aren’t surprised?“ „Shirababe...nothing about you staring at Chikas ass is subtle. Turn the horny down child!“ „I AM OLDER THAN YOU!“

“NO YOURE NOT! WELL AT LEAST NOT MENTALLY!“, Shigeru threw a pillow into Kenjirou‘s face.

The shorter got hit right in the face and let out a dramatic gasp while throwing the pillow right back.

“STOP WITH YOUR MENTAL SHIT, ASSHOLE!“

Acceptance

They were almost 16.

“Wait what?“

“I said I’m going to apply for Shiratorizawa.“

“But-we said we would got to Seijoh together!“

“Well there is still the possibility of me failing the exam because we both know I won’t get a sports scholarship.“

“Oh who are you kidding!? You are going to pass that exam with flying colors!“

“Well thank you.“

„KENJIROU YOU PROMISED!“

“I WAS LIKE 13!“

“YOU SAID- You said you won’t leave me alone...“

“Oh boo hoo! Little baby Yahaba can’t take being alone!“

Yahaba? He had never called me that...

“Well that may have to do with the fact that you always need to show me that your better than me in everything, Shirabu!“They stared each other down.

Sure they had had fights over the years but nothing quite like this.

There was so much to lose.

But also so much to gain.

I can’t do it. It’s too much.

Shigeru walked away.

Fear

They were 16.

Kenjirou had made it to Shiratorizawa.

He looked down at his test results with a grain of salt though.

He had passed with flying colors...just like he had said...

They hadn’t talked since their fight. They had graduated without a word to each other and now they were separated.

Shigeru got his test scores back some time ago, he would go to Seijoh after summer break.

Ennoshita would go to a different school as well.

Kenjirou‘s Heart hurt a bit at That thought as well. Not only was Chikara his only other real friend but Kenjirou also still had his stupid crush on him.

Kenjirou Shirabu was sitting in his room alone.

He was alone.

He had forgotten what that felt like.

Ever since that faithful day 8 years ago Shigeru- no Yahaba- had always been there somehow. Kenjirou had always seen him or texted him in some way and even when they were fighting he would always have Chikara to talk to.

But now both of them were gone.

Empty

They were 16.

Everything reminded them that the other wasn’t there.

It hurt.It hurt worse than when Yahaba got rejected by the girl he liked.

It hurt worse than Shirabu being beaten in his favorite subject.

It hurt more than the punches exchanged when they fought over something so seemingly little now that they forgot what it was.

How do you feel after the person you spent half your life with leaves?

Broken

Lost

Alone

They were 16.

„Yaha-Chan we Are playing a practice match today and I want to put you in.“

The dyed brown haired teen turned around a bit startled.

“But Oikawa-san I’m not even that good! I just started really playing this position! I can’t possibly-“ „Trust yourself more Yaha-chan!“

Yeah as if that’s so easy...Kenjirou was my setter and I was his spiker...I honestly just wanted to try this position but-

“I can see you overthinking Yaha-chan!“, Shigeru’s senpai snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.

„You are a great setter Yahaba. Don’t forget that.“

The younger looked up from the ground.Instead of the usual sing songy voice of Oikawa those words were said with a kind yet very stern voice.

He cracked a little smile.

Change

They were 16.

Winning.

That was what he did all of this for.

Winning.

So this was being part of a real team, huh?

He only stood on the court for a few minutes but here he was...screaming, laughing and hugging his teammates.

The last time I was this happy I was with Shigeru-

The copper haired boy turned around to the other side of the net.

There he was.

Yahaba Shigeru was crouching over a third year crying on the floor.He went around giving everyone water bottles.

He hadn’t played.

He had sat on the bench observing and filling up water bottles.

Anger rose in Kenjirou. How could they not let him play? There was definitely more than one of the third year spikers that was way worse than Shigeru!

Why won’t they let him play?

Or did he choose to not play?

Did they think they could win against Shiratorizawa and then use him as a secret weapon?

What was up with him?

He was slapped on the back by his senpai, their setter Semi Eita.

One eye contact was all Semi need to check up on him...

One eye contact and he could feel himself falling.

He wanted to tell Shigeru.

Longing

They were 16.

Loss.

That was the worst part about this.

Losing.Shigeru was on his bed looking up at the ceiling, like he and Kenjirou used to do when they told story’s till 2am.

His phone pinged.

Bangsie:

“Heh“, Shigeru smiled. He had forgotten to reset the nickname.

What does he want though? Rub his win under my nose? Tell me how much better than me he is again?

He picked up his phone anyways.

Bangsie: Shigeru we need to talk...same place

Same place.

Shigeru knew what he meant by that.

When his older brother was younger their parents had bought him a little treehouse at the outskirts of the woods not far from the Shirabu residents.

They would go there when Shigeru‘s little brother was being noisy, they wanted to get away or they just didn’t feel safe enough at home.

The Fake brunette sighed and put on his shoes.

Fixing

They were 16.

He came.

They sat in silence.

Until The copper haired boy broke the silence: „I’m sorry.“

„I know I made a promise and I knew what it meant to you but-“„No no I get it! Shiratorizawa fits your needs as a person and for your future more...I was being selfish.“

“But you had all right to be! Your brother left you behind and he was the only one there for you, I did the same!“

“Don’t fucking blame yourself for my problems!“

They stared at each other down for a good minute until they broke and they ended up hugging and crying.

The next hours were spent catching up.

Shigeru learned about Kenjirou’s crush on his upperclassman Semi.

Kenjirou learned about a guy named Kyoutani that absolutely drove Shigeru crazy and now even quit.

He also learned that Shigeru had switched to being a setter.

The night ended like many nights in the treehouse ended: with them curled up in blankets falling asleep on each other.

Home

They were 17.

I need to get better. I need to work harder. I can’t stop-

„Yahaba!“

The ball dropped on the other side of the court and he turned around to see his spiky haired senpai Iwaizumi.

“You are overworking yourself, Yahaba...“ „Oh I’m sorry I didn’t-“ „Oh no you know exactly what you’re doing! I already have one of you dumbasses!“, he looked at Oikawa, standing in the door talking to a few fan girls.

“Don’t freak out too much, ok?“, he sounded concerned...

“I’ll try, Iwaizumi-san!“

Shigeru hurried out of the locker room.

He was late to his and Kenjirou’s weekly movie night!

While he was mentally crossing all the things in his bag off a list as to not forget what to bring the boy ran into someone...and crashed to the ground.

“Hey watch were your going!“ the guy he bumped into only gave a little growl as answer.Kyoutani.

Of course it was Kyoutani.

“You’re good...“ came a little murmur from besides him where Kyoutani had apparently set off into the same way as him home.

Shigeru raised an eyebrow.

“You’re a good Player...“ Shigeru shoot around at that.

“Wh-what? You t-think I’m a g-good player?“

“I mean yeah...“Shigeru could feel a flush creep up his cheeks.

Wait what? Im supposed to hate him! He quit the team! But...

Diffrents

They were 17.

“This arm has to be a bit higher.“

Kenjirou was maybe having a so called gay panic.

Semi was too close. He was also correcting his form and touching him in all these places- Kenjirou couldn’t do this.

He threw the ball into the air, jumped and smashed that ball to the ground.

“Not so bad-Not so bad! But there is still some things you need to work on.“

“Well I wanna see you do a jump serve.“, he whispered.“As you wish, Shirabu my highness.“ The older said with a little bow before he got up to serve.

Kenjirou refuses to admit that his heart danced a little cha cha cha when Semi said his name.

The ash blond threw the ball up into the air, the perfect hight, he took two large steps and leaped into the air and finally his hand made contact with he ball and hit the ground with a beautiful thudh.

Kenjirou stood in awe for a few minutes before he excused himself to the bathroom.

Beauty

They were 17.

The ball dropped.

They lost.

Again.

Shiritorizawa won.

Again.

Again

They were 17.

They were sitting in the treehouse again.

„You guys played really well you know...“The copper haired boy looked over at his best friend and found the tear rolling down his face.

Neither one of them have ever been good at putting their feelings into words so all Kenjirou did was hold him.

Hold him while he crys.

Emotions

They were 17.

Karasuno.

Every point was a battle for power.

Yahaba got to play again...

He got to feel the ball in his hands again...

He made points!

He let the ball drop...This was his fault.

He thought he could be better, he thought he could finally face off against Kenjirou but no.

He was still weak.That’s all he was.

Weak

They were 17.

“This will be our first practice match with you as captain Shirabu.“, Kenjirou’s Coach looked at him. „You can do it.“

The new captain smiled and walked behind his team again.

“Hello and welcome at Seijoh!“ a familiar voice said. Kenjirou smiled.

“It’s a pleasure to win agains you.“

“Hahaha win? Yeah sure! We will stomp you to dust, Shirabu.“

“Game on, Yahaba.“

“Well what do we have here?, a singsongy voice said from behind Shigeru.

Oikawa Tooru

To be continued

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#my fanfiction #haikyuu fanfiction #yahashira #yahaba shigeru #shirabu kenjirō

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

Note

I really really love that your one chapter fic became a two chapters fic and that maybe it could turn into a three chapters one. I also love you are taking prompts. So one, what about Benny and Beth being themselves while Benny prepares to face Borgov and he actually wins this time? Ofc just an idea...

Copenhagen Revisited

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: M Word Count: 3165

Summary: Two years after Beth beat Borgov, it's Benny's turn to face him. They make Cleo's West Berlin apartment their headquarters as Beth prepares Benny for the match.

Benny travels like Van Helsing—staring out the window of the plane with an expression of feverish determination. The fact that he’s compared Borgov to Dracula more than once may be what’s leading Beth to her own character association. Mostly, she’s just watching him and wishing he’d taken the aisle seat. He’s blocking the view.

“I can practically feel him breathing down my neck,” he complains, shifting in his seat and drawing his jacket closed protectively across his chest.

Beth rolls her eyes and sips their Coke through her straw.

“He’s never even beaten you that badly,” she remarks, passing the drink to Benny, who sucks absently at his own straw.

“But he could.”

She scoffs.

“How? You’re better than you were the last time you played him.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because,” she says firmly, “you’ve played me a couple hundred times since then. Borgov’s not as tough to beat as I am. I proved that in Moscow two years ago.”

“Oh, did you? I hadn’t heard.”

Narrowing her eyes at him for his snark, she takes the Coke back and sets it on her lowered tray.

“You weren’t this nervous in New York.”

“We weren’t flying towards him in New York.” Benny tugs his jacket again. “And I’m not nervous.”

“Right. Well,” Beth reminds him, “you’ll have time to acclimate. That’s why we’re going early. And it’s not like Borgov’s going to be nearby. I don’t think being a celebrated chess player is enough to balance out his nationality in the eyes of West Berlin. Not exactly warm feelings towards Russians.”

“Is this a good idea?”

She looks at him carefully. He doesn’t usually ask her questions unless they’re rhetorical, teasing, or both.

“Yes,” she says decisively. “It was a good idea for Cleo to offer her apartment and it’s a good idea to go early. When we fly to Copenhagen in three weeks, you’ll be ready to give Borgov the same treatment you gave Najdorf.”

“You know journalists still ask me about that game?” Benny says, finally swiveling his face away from the window to meet her eye. “I was eight. I don’t even remember it. All I ever say about it is something I remember saying before. It’s just me quoting me quoting me—” He makes a rolling gesturing with his hand. “—all the way back to something I can only assume is the truth.”

Beth makes a dismissive noise.

“They print what they want anyway.”

“It’s lousy.”

“What is?”

“Feeling like a pawn. Can never move backward,” he mumbles.

“I’ve never chaperoned you to a tournament before,” she observes. “I didn’t realize the anticipation would make you so dramatic.”

“I’m not—”

“You are. Maybe you’re not irreversibly out of touch with your eight-year-old self.”

He stares sulkily out the window.

“I get airsick,” he finally admits in a low voice.

“That’s what’s wrong?” Beth laughs. “No wonder you drive to all the domestic opens.” Taking pity, she passes him the Coke again. “Here, the carbonation will help.”

Benny drinks, then rests his head back against the seat with a sigh, closing his eyes.

“Vampire bastard,” he groans.

Beth holds the bottle for a minute, then places her cold hand against his forehead.

“It’s his slicked-back hair, isn’t it?” she guesses.

“Could be.”

—

Cleo isn’t at her Berlin apartment. She’s not in Berlin. She was planning to be, when she volunteered her place as Benny’s training ground, so Beth and Benny are doubly stupefied to hear that she left three days earlier for a job in Milan. Cleo’s neighbour tells them this—another model, Beth would guess, based on her arty haircut and the smudge of hazy blue eyeshadow around glazed eyes. She’s higher than they were when they flew over the Atlantic, but thankfully functional enough to press Cleo’s key into Benny’s hand. Her stoned, accented English stomps the ear like a heavy tread, then grinds the words like a cigarette beneath a boot heel. She also invites them to a party at her apartment later. They don’t make it; jetlag strikes and they collapse on Cleo’s bed, dragging the scrappy, colourful assortment of decorative shawls serving as blankets over themselves and falling asleep.

Unlike when Benny trained Beth in his underground apartment in New York, they can’t count on ’round the clock silence here. It’s a loud building, boisterous and bohemian, and the parties of Cleo’s neighbour seem to occur nightly. Beth confronts a startlingly hungover teenage girl tottering up the stairs one morning as she’s going down. She jumps. The girl is a reflection. The girl is a ghost. The girl is possibly swearing at Beth for staring, judging by the scowl accompanying the words that come grating from her dry throat.

Fortunately, nightly parties also mean that the place is quiet most of the day as people sleep off whatever they drank, smoked, injected, or otherwise ingested the previous evening. Quiet is good. Quiet is perfect. She and Benny take slugs of strong German coffee (Benny is especially pleased, though he only hums softly to show it) and play match after match until noon at the small table under Cleo’s kitchen window. With the window propped open, they listen to the rush of traffic below. Beth breathes deeply and watches Benny chew his lip as he contemplates his moves. Their focus is the endgame—Borgov’s specialty.

When she promises they won’t get up to anything like the neighbours next door, Beth’s able to coax Benny out some evenings. They take in the culture; she does it for the memory of Alma and suspects that Benny does it for her.

She scrunches her eyebrows together in confusion as they prepare to depart on a Friday and he’s not wearing his hat.

“You’re not forgetting your head,” she says carefully, “but it’s almost as serious.”

“I don’t want it getting in the way.”

Beth stares at him, waiting for clarification.

“Come on, kid. I’m taking you dancing.”

An hour later, in his arms, she says, “As your trainer, it should’ve been me forcing you to take a break.”

“Ah, it might not be your tournament, but you’re just as intense. You love to study.”

“Maybe I would’ve studied less if I knew that you knew how to dance.”

“Yeah, I’m sensational. Just don’t look at my feet.”

They laugh their way through it and, though she can’t actually hear them laughing over the volume of the band at the hole in the wall Benny dragged her into, she’ll recall the way his eyes squinted and his teeth showed and fill in the laughter after the fact. Their hands clasp and release and their fingers misalign in a haphazard grip and she laughs. She sways against him, clutching his half-unbuttoned black shirt, and feels his shudder. They hurry back to Cleo’s apartment and have sweaty, desperate sex against the wall just inside the door. Beth rakes her fingers through Benny’s uncovered hair, gasping. When they’re done, they receive a muffled cheer from the neighbouring apartment. She drops her forehead to his shoulder with a smile.

The time flies and, at Benny’s behest, their play becomes more disciplined. They only replicate Russian matches to reenforce the coldblooded style he’ll meet when he sits down across from Borgov. They begin to use a clock; up to this point, their exchanges were untimed, to allow for contemplation and debate following each move, if necessary. They even—finally—get fed up with the neighbours. Benny walks out of the apartment for fresh air and comes back with a bloody nose and reddened knuckles that are beginning to swell because, apparently, some hazy partygoer staggered into him in the hallway and they got into it for no good reason. Thank god he didn’t pull his knife. Beth’s witnessed enough nasty little fistfights behind Mrs. Deardorff’s back at the orphanage to assess that Benny’s nose isn’t broken, though the skin under his left eye very quickly begins to purple. Great. He’ll face Borgov looking like a pugilist. She prepares him a nice bundle of ice and accidentally drops it onto his hand to communicate her contempt for his stupidity. Reckless asshole.

“You could’ve at least told me you were really going out to pick a fight.”

“What would you have done?” Benny wonders, shifting the ice from his knuckles to his face with a wince. “Taken a couple swings yourself?”

Beth puffs up, straightening her spine.

“Of course.”

“Nah, honey, your nose is too pretty to chance it.”

She can’t decide: it’s either the endearment she doesn’t know what to do with or the implication that she’d be witless enough to stand there and take a jab to the center of her face that makes Beth rise and kick the leg of the chair Benny’s sitting right on the edge of. He looks mad enough when his backside hits the floor, but he sighs and glances up at her.

“You want a game?”

She smiles.

“I’ll play black.”

The night before they fly to Copenhagen, she sees it’ll take more than fresh air, yet another chess match, or a bop on the nose to calm him. He’s pacing, pointing, and lecturing—each habit sufficiently annoying on its own, but in conjunction? He’ll drive them both crazy if she lets him carry on.

“Come on, kid,” she says, and makes him sit on the edge of the bed instead of the chair.

Beth’s efficient at undoing buttons, even from behind, and has her back-buttoning blouse stripped off before Benny’s redirected his thoughts from the game they left set up on the board in the other room to what’s happening in front of him. When she starts unzipping her skirt, he catches her hands and takes over. She sits on his lap and rubs him through his jeans until he rolls her onto her back. Breathless and fumbling at his belt, Beth tells herself Cleo had to know they wouldn’t just be using her apartment to play chess. If there’s one language Cleo speaks more fluently than the others, it’s sex. Feeling absolved, Beth hooks her legs up around Benny’s hips.

—

“Well, well, well, look who’s still famous,” he mutters to her after jerking open the door of the venue to the sudden flutter of flashbulbs.

“I’m sorry,” Beth offers with a smirk. “I wore sunglasses and everything. I was trying to be inconspicuous.”

Benny grins back because that was never going to happen. She hasn’t exactly kept her head down for the last two years, steadily working her way through American Masters, felling them. It’s kind of a hobby. Still, she’s chosen an active chess career in the States over the spectacle of European tournaments, so for the international press, Beth’s appearance today is quite an occasion. But it doesn’t trouble Benny. He’s never struggled with monopolizing the spotlight.

“I’ll answer five questions before my first match,” he announces, arm around Beth’s waist. “Who’s first?”

“Mr. Watts, what’s it like to be back in Copenhagen?”

“Great. It’s been a while. The flight was quick with no turbulence, exactly how I like it.”

“Your eye—have you been in a fight?”

“Chess is a rough sport.”

“How are you feeling going into your first match?”

“Prepared.”

“Do you plan to meet Borgov in the final on Saturday?”

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“What is your relationship with Miss Harmon?”

Benny glances sideways at her. Above her sunglasses, Beth raises an eyebrow. Some people might be thrown by the abrupt switch in subject matter, but the moment of hesitation as he parts his lips to answer is mischievous.

“Waiting for her to make an honest man outta me. That’s five, boys,” he points out, lifting a hand that does double duty as an acknowledgement and a brushing aside motion; it parts the small crowd and he guides Beth through.

“Well now they definitely won’t print anything about you.”

“Sure they will. My name right alongside yours: ‘Watts and Harmon.’ Maybe ‘Harmon and Watts’—sounds a little better. Anyway, they’ve got enough to suggest that we’ve been working together and that’s the edge that’ll get to Borgov.”

“If he picks up a paper between tomorrow and Saturday,” Beth clarifies.

“He will. Or somebody’ll do it for him. One of his KGB babysitters, probably. They seem like they’d be gossips. But Borgov’ll hear about it and the mention of your name will put the fear of god into him.”

“Oh, it will, will it?”

“No question.” He halts and looks at her seriously. “You mind if we find someplace quiet to sit down for a minute?”

She checks her watch, the cracked glass face long ago replaced.

“Yeah, you’ve got a few minutes, but wouldn’t you prefer to go in and, how did you put it? Breathe down the neck of your competitors?”

“Cute, but I’m a little worried I’d be sick down the neck of my competitors.” He squeezes his eyes shut momentarily. “Ugh, that plane ride.”

“But there wasn’t any turbulence!”

“Beth, please. Don’t even say the word.”

He plays two games that day, with enough turnaround time in between that they go for a walk and she takes a few non-press photographs of him in front of attractive backdrops. Behaving like real tourists seems to distract him. Benny even allows Beth to charm him into surrendering the end of his sandwich so she can use the bread to feed the little birds in a park they walk through.

The following day, the schedule tightens up. Lesser players are vanquished and Benny is presented with more people to beat, each one smug from their recent win until Benny shuffles things around on the board with exchanges so swiftly conceived and executed that it might be sleight of hand, one complex magic trick until—ta da!—he’s hemmed their king. He’s fucking brilliant, Beth thinks as she observes him, occasionally shaking her head in amazement. Her pulses races each time he sits down across from someone with a look on his face like, I hope you’ve made peace with your god. They screened too many movies of a biblical bent at Methuen. Prayer and faith certainly never lifted her high, but watching Benny does.

The next day is the second to last and Benny plays once, in the morning, with adjournments and the deciding of third and fourth place of the tournament in the afternoon. Winning his game isn’t anything special to him; he was always looking ahead, intending to square off against Borgov. In Benny’s style, Beth considers, it’d be a gunslinger draw at high noon. In Borgov’s (via Benny’s perception of him), Van Helsing advancing on a crypt with a garland of garlic bulbs and a raised crucifix.

She sits patiently with him in their hotel room. Unlike the night before they departed from Germany, he isn’t stressed. He’s calm. Beth asks if he’d rather stretch his legs, go find some of his friends that played at this tournament (and lost) and talk to them, work the room in a way that simultaneously captivates her and makes her roll her eyes. No. He prefers to stay with her. They sprawl on the bed and play out a couple of his slickest games, then the last twenty moves of the ‘68 Moscow final: Borgov v. Harmon.

“Let’s go to sleep,” he says softly, when she’s dozing with her head on her arm. He’s been staring at the board in silence for a long time.

“Are you sure?” Beth yawns before continuing, “I could order up some coffee?”

Benny’s already gathering the pieces and folding the board.

“You can’t do any more for me than you’ve done, and I can’t learn any more tonight than I have.”

“You’re prepared,” she agrees. That might not be quite what he meant, but she figures even Benny Watts needs a little reassurance.

“For most things he could do.”

Beth pulls her pajamas out from under the pillow on her side of the bed.

“You know how he plays. It’s clean. You just have to keep your eyes open. Borgov isn’t the sort of player to pull something creative out of nowhere.”

“You say that, but once, I had an opponent threaten to kick me in the crotch.”

“Mm, well, that’s not Borgov. Like I said, no creativity.” She watches for a minute as Benny strips his shirt off and flings it onto the chair. “By the way, it wasn’t a threat, it was posed as a question—rhetorical, even philosophical—and only because that opponent felt she wasn’t being taken seriously.”

Benny smiles and walks around the end of the bed. He cradles the back of her head and gives her a slow kiss.

“Will you kick Borgov in the crotch for me if I lose?”

“Now you want me to fight your battles for you? Where was this attitude in Berlin?” She grabs Benny’s butt as he walks back to trade his jeans for pajamas. He turns to look at her inquiringly. “I won’t have to.”

He spends all the next morning proving her right, not succumbing to how Borgov’s pieces shoulder their way across the board. They knock Benny’s aside some, but he hangs in and they adjourn in the afternoon for an after-dinner resumption. Though the reprieve is nearly three hours, they don’t go back to their room. There’s no international call to wait for—every bit of encouragement from their friends was given before they left New York. Benny has a drink with dinner and when that doesn’t loosen him up enough, Beth gets a little fresh under the table as she’s adjusting the napkin in his lap, just until she’s sure he’s in a new mindset.

At seven o’clock, the jacket, the hat, and the man are back in position opposite Borgov. Benny makes the move he sealed earlier, then leans forward by his shoulders. In that gesture, Beth knows Benny’s got him. He confirms it sixteen moves later and Borgov concedes the match in a gracious bow of his head. Benny dawdled a little, not dropping the guillotine blade the way she did with her swift Ohio victory over him, but he’s a different player. An admirer of historic matches, a showman with quick fingers and no better place to be than in front of a chessboard. That’s what she’s always guessed his mentality to be. Where she loves to win, he loves to play.

He rises from the table to a roomful of applause. His eyes find hers and she whistles with her fingers in her mouth, the way he taught her one night in his apartment. The sound is shrill enough over the rest of the noise that the photographer beside her turns to glare and tell her to shut the hell up. He begins to apologize when he recognizes her, but Beth shakes her head impatiently and points past him.

“Don’t look at me,” she says. “Look at him.”

#thanks for the prompt!#my writing #The Queen's Gambit #Beth Harmon #Benny Watts #beth x benny

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nightfallrevel · 4 years

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Without You

A/N: HEY, OMG, I’M BACK!!

Okay, so, I may have plunged myself into the pit of KiriBaku/BakuKiri and now I’m stuck there. Literally, nearly every idea I have lately is for this ship. I love them. Might be a little obsessed, but hey, I’m happy here.

I fell into quite the writing rut and found it difficult for me to write literally anything. The focus wasn’t there, the inspiration was lacking, and so I wrote the first thing that came to mind and forced myself to follow it.

Thus, this fic was born. THE LONGEST THING I’VE EVER WRITTEN HERE. Except my old collab fic, Strawberry and Cream, but I don’t really count that one. I wrote this piece like an effing madman, tell you what. I think now I’ve kinda gotten through my block, writing will happen a bit easier going forward. I hope.

Anywho, without further ado, here’s the fic~

Summary: Bakugo goes on a mountain hike and realizes that something rather important is missing.

Warnings: it’s Bakugo, there’s swearing.

Bakugo x Kirishima

Words: 4,477

Something was wrong.

Bakugo zipped up his backpack angrily, the last of what he’d need all packed up. Tugging on his hiking boots, he threw the pack over his shoulders and headed out. It was the weekend, and pretty early in the morning, so the dorms were pretty quiet.

He paused in the hallway, but forced himself not to turn down the hall. His back practically burned with the thought of the neighboring rooms, but he gave an annoyed grunt before heading down the stairs. Luckily, no one was in the commons to bother him as he made his way out. He was already in a foul mood and didn’t need anyone to further aggravate him.

Something was wrong.

The walk to the bus stop was short and the wait was even shorter. Just before he could board, there was a shout from down the sidewalk to hold the bus. Bakugo glanced in the direction of the voice, saw a flash of red, and his heart picked up to race furiously within his chest. A second look, however, revealed a stranger wearing a red bandanna and he grunted to himself as he finished boarding the bus.

The ride to the base of the mountain was barely half an hour, then it was a ten minute walk to the start of the trail. Hitching his pack into place on his shoulders, Bakugo began the ascent. He’d been planning this hike for well over a month. It was overdue and the fresh air helped to clear his head. Already, he could feel his stress levels decline the higher he climbed.

He’d been hiking without pause for nearly two hours when he heard a grumbling complaint and dragging footsteps behind him. His ire raised, he turned around to tell the complainer off, but his voice caught in his throat. There was no one there.

Something was wrong.

By midday, the temperature had risen significantly, but the thinning mountain air helped to keep Bakugo from overheating. As he walked, tiny explosions crackled in his palms as he burnt off the excess sweat to prevent any accidents. He understood too well the dangers of his quirk and wasn’t interested in taking any unnecessary risks.

His stomach growled at some point, so he looked for a good spot to stop and sit down for his lunch. A fallen tree served as a place for him to sit as he took off his backpack and dug inside. Pulling out a sandwich, he held it out, but no one took it. He lifted his gaze to glare at his arm as though the muscle memory had offended him, which it most definitely had. He had become much too used to having company.

As he peered within his pack, Bakugo quickly realized that he had packed way too much food. Enough for two people, plus a bit extra. He heaved a sigh, resigning that he’d be taking some home and unwrapped the sandwich for himself. After finishing the sandwich, he gave himself some time to let his food settle before hitting the trail, again.

Something was wrong.

It wasn’t until Bakugo had nearly reached the peak when he thought he heard the sound of a joyous laugh and thought he felt the brush of a shoulder against his own, that he realized what it was. Growing up, he’d always considered himself as independent and introverted. He didn’t need anyone except himself. Over the past couple of years at U.A., however, something had changed. He was barely aware of it happening, but as he stood on top of the mountain all by himself, it was more than the view that was put into clear perspective.

Kirishima was supposed to be with him on this trip. They had planned it out together, albeit somewhat reluctantly on Bakugo’s part. He wasn’t reluctant because he didn’t want to go with his best friend. It was rather out of sheer stubbornness that he would rather go alone. Bakugo had pretended to cave even though he knew from the start that he would agree to the trip. He loved hiking and it wouldn’t be so bad to share that with his best friend.

Best friend; it was a term that had held an odd weight since the end of their first year. Bakugo felt as though it wasn’t an accurate description of what Kirishima was to him. He had never been able to work it out, though, a part of him a bit too nervous to look too closely at it. So, he ignored the part of his heart that flipped at Kirishima’s shark-toothed grin and the easy way in which they touched so casually.

A week ago, however, Bakugo had happened to walk in on Kirishima talking to Sero in the locker room after class. The redhead had said something about finally confessing his feelings at the top of the mountain they were hiking. Rage had filled him as he rounded the corner, seeing the color drain from Kirishima’s face as panic rose to the redhead’s features.

Bakugo had screamed a multitude of obscenities at him. He couldn’t remember all of them, but none of them had been nice. Most of them hadn’t even been true. He definitely remembered telling Kirishima that romance was for idiots with nothing better to do and that he couldn’t be the number one hero if he wasn’t giving it his all. He also remembered saying something along the lines of barely being able to tolerate the idiot’s presence.

A flash of hurt had crossed Kirishima’s face by that point, only to turn into anger as Bakugo kept going, yelling something about how he’d be better off without some fucking extra following at his heels all the time. Angry tears had sprung to Kirishima’s eyes as he’d shoved against Bakugo’s chest and pushed him away.

More angry words were exchanged between the two of them before Kirishima finally stormed out, red-faced and barely holding back tears. Sero said nothing before following the redhead out, leaving Bakugo to seethe in his own anger. He wasn’t even sure why he was really all that pissed off about it.

Breathing in the mountain air, Bakugo reflected on his anger and slowly came to an understanding. Hearing Kirishima’s accidental confession forced Bakugo to look closer at his own feelings. Feelings that he wasn’t ready to analyze that thoroughly, yet. His chest tightened as he looked up to the clear, afternoon sky. The answer was so glaringly obvious that he couldn’t ignore it or cover it with his anger, anymore.

Fuck. He really owed Kirishima an apology. Several apologies. That idiot. His idiot. A frustrated grin spread across his face as he realized he had no idea how to even go about it. He knew, though, that it couldn’t wait, not even another day for his trip to end.

After making sure his pack was secured tightly, sparks flew from his palms as he turned them downwards and propelled himself into the sky. He’d probably get his ass chewed out if his teachers got wind of him using his quirk like this, but fuck it. Bakugo blasted himself to the bottom of the mountain in a matter of minutes to catch the last bus back to U.A..

It was already dark by the time he burst into the commons, panting from running so hard. Everyone was gathered for a game night and several eyes turned to stare at him as he stomped forward. All of them except the only ones that matter. “Hey, Bakugo, weren’t you supposed to be camping this weekend?” He ignored the question as Kirishima finally, slowly, turned to face him.

There was no familiar smile to greet him, no emotion at all as Kirishima leveled Bakugo with a flat look. Bakugo grit his teeth, refusing to back down from the redhead’s expression. His brows drew low over his eyes as he bit out, “I need to talk to you. Now.” Kirishima’s mouth pressed into a hard line and he turned back around.

“No.”

Bakugo saw the telltale blur of rage around the edges of his sight, but he deflated almost immediately. What did he expect, honestly? He’d said horrible things and then ignored Kirishima for the past week. He wouldn’t want to talk to him, either.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he forced his gaze away from the back of Kirishima’s head and huffed with frustration. “Fine.” He shuffled from the commons and punched the button on the elevator, feeling the shocked expressions of their classmates on his back.

Unfamiliar emotions had welled within his chest at Kirishima’s rejection as he rode the elevator. He wondered if this was anything like what the redhead had felt when Bakugo had yelled at him. Fuck, he really was awful if this was even a fraction of what Kirishima had felt. The tightness in his chest was nearly unbearable.

Once in his room, he discarded his backpack and stripped down. He was sweaty and dirty from his hike and he needed a shower. Hopefully, while he got clean, he’d be able to think of some way to get Kirishima to talk to him. His shower was quick, though, and he hadn’t come up with a single idea. It was clear that he really wasn’t made for all this emotional shit, which only served to piss him off.

Wearing clean clothes, he scrubbed his hair dry with a towel as he made his way back to his room. Distracted as he was, Bakugo couldn’t react quickly enough as a pair of hands grabbed him suddenly and pushed him into his room, snapping the door shut behind them. His breath left him in a rush as he was shoved back against the door and angry red eyes met his own.

“Kirishima, what the fu-” Bakugo was cut off as Kirishima’s fist slammed against the door next to his head. Silence stretched between them for a moment as they both breathed heavily.

“You know, for someone who’s constantly calling me an idiot, you can be pretty stupid.” Kirishima finally spoke. Bakugo should have been pissed at that, but he couldn’t bring himself to get even a little mad. All he could do was give Kirishima a hard stare, no heat in his gaze.

“Yeah, I know. I said some pretty shitty things to you. I shouldn’t have. I… didn’t really mean what I said.” Kirishima’s eyes widened at the half apology, then a small smile turned up the corners of his mouth, much to Bakugo’s surprise.

“If I really thought you meant any of that, then I never knew you at all.” Bakugo felt like the air had been punched from his lungs as relief washed over him. Of course, Kirishima knew. Kirishima always knew him better than anyone else. With a shaky hand, Bakugo reached out to grab a fistful of Kirishima’s shirt and nodded, lowering his gaze as he suddenly felt weak in the knees. “That doesn’t mean you don’t have to apologize, though, you jerk.”

Bakugo’s head snapped up to face the redhead, again, his fist in the fabric tightening. “Kirishima-”

“Eijirou. Call me by my first name.”

Bakugo blinked, caught somewhat off guard, and he felt his heart speed up rapidly in his chest. A small frown etched onto his face, heat rising in his cheeks. “I- Eijiro, I’m sorry. For all the things I said and didn’t mean. I wasn’t angry at you, not really.” His other hand rose to join the one clutching Kirishima’s shirt, grabbing another fistful of fabric and tugging the redhead closer.

“I know. I forgive you.” Kirishima let himself be pulled closer, leaning into Bakugo until their mouths met in a hesitant kiss. It lasted barely a second before Kirishima was pulling back, looking unsure. “Does this mean… that you accept my feelings? I- I don’t want to burden you, Bakugo.”

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Idiot. If I’m calling you by your first name, then you’re calling me by mine, too.” His features softened as he pulled Kirishima back to him. “Don’t make me fucking spell it out for you.” Bakugo tugged him back in the rest of the way, kissing him with more confidence. Kirishima let out a soft whimper as their tongues mingled together and Bakugo released his shirt in favor of wrapping his arms around his best friend.

Except Kirishima wasn’t his best friend, he was so much more than that. Bakugo felt as though an empty slot had suddenly filled within himself as Kirishima returned the embrace. The wrong had been righted and a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Finally, breathless from their kisses, they broke apart and grins spread across their faces. Kirishima looked a bit sheepish while Bakugo wore a shit-eating grin. They sat down together on the floor and decided to talk about how they’d handle their new relationship. Many of their friends were already aware of how Kirishima felt, but it was anyone’s guess whether Bakugo actually returned those feelings.

Bakugo didn’t care what anyone thought, but Kirishima was still somewhat hesitant to make their relationship known. After some discussion, they decided the dorms were safe enough to be open, but they wouldn’t engage in any affection at school. They mutually agreed that it was best to appear professional or they could risk expulsion. Their discussion turned to lighter topics after that, and more making out, as they talked late into the night until they both fell asleep on the floor.

Bakugo woke up first the next morning, grumbling over his sore back as he sat up. All complaints were forgotten, however, as his gaze fell on his best- no, his boyfriend’s sleeping face. A soft smile graced his features as he thought that the new term fit Kirishima better than ‘best friend’ ever had. Reaching out, he brushed a bit of flat red hair from his face before catching himself and blushing hard. Thank goodness Kirishima slept like a fucking rock.

Getting up, he grabbed his pillow and propped it under Kirishima’s head and threw a blanket over him before heading downstairs to the kitchen to cook breakfast. While he cooked, Kaminari and Sero walked into the kitchen stretching and yawning. At the sight of Bakugo, Kaminari got a devious grin on his face.

“Isn’t that so sweet, Sero? Bakugo is making breakfast for his new boyfriend. Damn, one night and Kirishima’s already got him domesticated.” Bakugo’s hand froze over the stove at Kaminari’s words before slowly turning to him with a hard glare.

“Hah? The fuck did you just say, dunce face? Pretty early to be wishing to get your ass blasted to smithereens.” Bakugo growled, his hand popping with sparks as he aimed it towards Kaminari. Sero stepped between them, hands raised as he tried to placate their explosive friend.

“C’mon, Bakugo, he’s just teasing. Like you said, it’s too early for this.” Kaminari didn’t back down, though.

“Yeah, Bakugo, come on. Just spill the deets! I know Kirishima didn’t go back to his room last night~” Kaminari barely had time to gloat before Bakugo was in his face with an explosion.

“You fucking pervert! I’ll kill you!” Bakugo knew he was red in the face, which didn’t help his case, but he didn’t have long to chase the idiot around the kitchen as Kirishima showed up. Yawning and scratching the back of his neck, Kirishima took in the scene before him with a frown.

“Seriously, you guys? Can you not rile him up this early in the morning? I’m not awake enough to keep him from actually hurting you.” Bakugo seethed, ready to bark back at the redhead for thinking he could stop him, anyway, but a heavy weight pressed against his back as Kirishima draped his arms over his shoulders from behind. Bakugo nearly staggered under the unexpected weight as Kirishima tiredly leaned onto him.

“Stand on your own, idiot! How am I supposed to cook with you hanging on me like this?!” Bakugo growled as Kirishima pouted. Even so, Kirishima’s weight lessened, but he kept his arms draped over Bakugo’s shoulders. Bakugo felt a slight shiver pass down his spine as Kirishima’s face pressed against the side of his neck to watch him cook. “Seriously? I’m not going to cook for you if you keep this up.”

“But I’m tired, Katsuki, and the food smells good.” The pout in Kirishima’s voice was heavy as more of his weight settled onto Bakugo’s back, again.

“Then lean on the fucking counter!” Bakugo growled, shrugging his shoulders lightly in a lame attempt to get Kirishima off of him. He felt a flush crawling up his neck to his face as he realized he could actually feel Kirishima’s pout against his skin. It also didn’t help that he knew that Kaminari and Sero were staring at them. He ducked his head and lowered his voice. “The eggs are gonna burn.”

With a heavy sigh, Kirishima straightened himself and practically rolled his body away from Bakugo to lean on the counter right next to the stove. Bakugo frowned as Kirishima folded his arms on top of the counter and rested his head on top of them to watch him cook with a wide yawn. His ungelled hair fell softly to frame his face and Bakugo couldn’t help but think that it was cute.

Reaching over, he gently pushed some of the red hair back from Kirishima’s face, stroking his cheek a little as he did. “You shouldn’t lean next to the hot stove like that, idiot.” Kirishima only grinned back at him, not budging an inch.

“That’s okay. I can handle the heat.” He snickered as Bakugo’s jaw dropped and his face nearly went atomic.

“You guys sure nothing happened last night? I mean, no one would blame you…” Kaminari’s voice came from behind them where he and Sero had taken a seat at the kitchen island. Kirishima lifted his head to shoot him a disapproving frown.

“Kaminari, that’s-”

Kirishima was quickly cut off as sparks flew from Bakugo’s palm in Kaminari’s direction. “None of your fucking business, dunce face! So shut the hell up about it!” Kaminari lifted his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay! I’ll drop it, sheesh!” Kaminari rolled his eyes, slumping to rest his chin in his hand on the counter. “Damn, to think Bakugo would lose it, first. Didn’t see that one coming.” Sero glanced over at Bakugo nervously, who was now shaking with anger.

Kirishima placed a hand on Bakugo’s shoulder and squeezed gently before turning a deep frown on Kaminari. “Dude, not cool. Seriously, though, nothing happened. We just had a really long talk, okay?” Bakugo lightly shrugged off Kirishima’s hand so that he could plate their breakfast.

Kaminari huffed. “Okay. I’ll take your word for it, then.” His eyes immediately lit up, however, as Bakugo nearly slammed an omelette in front of him. “Oh, nice, a rice omelette! What’s the occasion?” Another one was set in front of Sero, who gave his thanks to the chef.

Kirishima was given two omelettes and Bakugo took one for himself before heading to the commons to eat, yelling something about how Kaminari didn’t even deserve one. Kirishima beamed as he began to follow Bakugo. “They’re my favorite breakfast,” he told Kaminari as he slipped from the kitchen.

As the two of them ate together, they found themselves falling back into their normal, easy companionship. Kirishima chatted between bites at times while Bakugo would answer occasionally in his short, gruff way. The only difference was their thighs pressed together and the soft smiles that passed between them in the silence while they chewed.

Just as they had finished eating, standing up to clean their dishes, Aizawa came into the dorms. “Bakugo. I need you to come with me to my office. I got a complaint about the misuse of quirks outside of the school.” Bakugo let out an annoyed ‘tsk’, but didn’t argue. Kirishima took his plate from him with a worried expression. Without a word of reassurance, Bakugo turned to follow their teacher, hands shoved into his pockets, and left the cleaning up to the redhead.

It was nearly lunch by the time Bakugo returned to the dorms and most of their class was gathered in the commons, including Kirishima. His entrance had gone unnoticed and Bakugo paused behind the couch, staring at the back of Kirishima’s head with a small frown. His gaze traced the soft strands of red hair and the way that it rested against the curve of Kirishima’s neck, admiring how it moved subtly with every movement of his head.

With sudden realization, Bakugo found that it was all familiar to him, but he’d never really taken the time to appreciate the view. His boyfriend was manly, sure, but he was also damn gorgeous. As though driven by some unknown force, Bakugo approached Kirishima from behind and wrapped his arms around him.

Kirishima went completely still, rigid with surprise as Bakugo pressed an open mouthed kiss against his jaw, just below the ear. “Go get dressed.” He whispered huskily into Kirishima’s ear. “I’m gonna shower and then we’re going on a date.” Bakugo grinned, ignoring the stares of their classmates as Kirishima’s skin darkened to match his hair color. Without waiting for an answer, Bakugo straightened and headed for the showers.

Twenty minutes later, they met in the foyer. When Bakugo came down in his jeans and a black button down with the top two buttons undone, he came up short as his breath left him at the sight of Kirishima. The redhead had finally spiked up his hair and was speaking casually with Pink Cheeks. With jeans that hugged him in all the right places and his favorite Crimson Riot t-shirt that stretched across his broad chest, Kirishima was drool-worthy in his leather jacket.

He didn’t have enough time to catch his breath as he approached Kirishima. A curt look was all it took to shut up Uraraka and send her on her way as she turned even pinker. Kirishima turned towards Bakugo and blushed brightly, reaching up to rub the back of his own neck nervously.

“You, um, you look nice, Katsuki.” Kirishima shot him a nervous smile that Bakugo returned in confidence.

“Of course, I do. You look fucking hot, though.” Bakugo snickered as Kirishima’s blush deepened while his jaw nearly dropped to the floor. The redhead immediately became too flustered at the unexpected compliment to do anything but stand there in a mild panic, so Bakugo shoved him out the door. “C’mon. I’m fucking starving. You can gay panic later, idiot.”

This seemed to snap Kirishima out of it as his steps turned from barely a shuffle to full strides. “I wasn’t- I- You never say stuff like that! How am I supposed to react?!” Bakugo barked out a laugh at that.

“You say ‘thank you’ and move the fuck on.” Kirishima pouted a little, but still muttered his thanks as the two of them left school grounds for the nearby shopping district. Bakugo led them to one of his favorite places to eat where Kirishima could get a meat dish and he could still get himself something that was plenty spicy to suit his own tastes.

While they waited for their food, Kirishima asked about what happened with Aizawa and Bakugo explained how he’d used his quirk to blast himself down the mountainside. Kirishima laughed, delighted that he was important enough to risk getting in trouble for. Bakugo shrugged it off, though.

He’d barely gotten a slap on the wrist since there was minimal damage to the environment. Just some minor scorch marks on the ground where he’d launched himself and a few near where he landed. Bakugo explained the reason he’d taken so long was because, as punishment, Aizawa had made him run laps and do fifty push ups between each one. This made Kirishima cringe slightly as he expressed his sympathy, but Bakugo shrugged that off as well.

After they’d eaten, they decided to take a walk around the district and look at the different shops as they strolled by. Kirishima spoke excitedly about a few of the shops, Bakugo quietly giving special attention to the things the redhead expressed interest in. After a while, though, Kirishima fell silent.

A block and a half later, when Kirishima still hadn’t spoken, Bakugo glanced over to see him plucking nervously at his jacket. Letting out a huff, he bumped his shoulder against the redhead’s to get his attention. “Spit it out, Ei. What’s on your mind?” Kirishima spluttered a bit at the nickname, his steps slowing until he finally stopped. Bakugo stopped a couple steps ahead, turning around to wait patiently for Kirishima to say what was on his mind.

“Eijirou.” Kirishima’s gaze snapped up at Bakugo calling his name, his arms pressing against his sides as he stopped fidgeting with his jacket.

“Sorry, um, it’s just…,” Kirishima hesitated, “I know we’re on a date, right now. It’s just that… you haven’t actually said how you feel. We didn’t bring it up, really, when we talked about our relationship last night. I feel like I’ve just been assuming and that maybe you’re humoring me so that we can just be friends, again.” Bakugo blinked at him as a long silence stretched between them.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Kirishima flinched at Bakugo’s harsh words, then ducked his head as his face flushed. Bakugo crossed the distance between them and grabbed a fistful of Kirishima’s shirt, nearly snarling. “What did you say yesterday about knowing me? Tell me, would I go to the trouble if we were just going to be friends? What part of our friendship made you think that I was a liar?” Kirishima’s gaze snapped up to Bakugo’s in a panic.

Firm hands met the fist on Kirishima’s shirt. “No! No, that’s not what I meant! I’m sorry, I’m not always good with my words. I just… It’s just that you’re acting so differently than you usually do and, and I’m so surprised. I really thought you were going to turn me down.” Bakugo eased his hold on Kirishima’s shirt, finally letting go as he stepped back and glanced away.

“Oh. That.” Bakugo chewed his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to figure out what to say. “I’m not good at this whole… feeling thing, but…,” His gaze lifted to meet Kirishima’s, “Up on that mountain, I realized a lot of things. You were supposed to be there with me, and you weren’t. It felt wrong, and it just- it wasn’t the same without you.” He barely got the words out before strong arms were embracing him and Bakugo closed his eyes, finally feeling as though everything was right as he hugged Kirishima back.

#my work #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugo katsuki #kirishima ejirou #bakukiri #kiribaku #bakugo x kirishima #kirishima x bakugo

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sarriathmg · 4 years

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Omega Jason Todd Week 2020 Day 7: Free day #2 - Historical AU - 1700s What happens if none of the prompts you wanted to do made it? Why, crunch them all on the free day, of course!

Pfft yall have no proof that I'm just looking for excuses to put Jason in various dresses AO3 link ----

“I despise this,” Jason whispered to himself as he ripped the elaborate powdered wig off of his head and threw it aside, “this is atrocious.”

He really didn’t understand the reason why he had to do this. The whole rationale behind having to use his omega charms to approach the Waynes completely evaded him. Not when he had to dress in these ridiculous red satins and side hoops, barely able to move with him tripping over his gown every second step. The tightly laced stays he wore made his torso stiff and the dainty shoes hurt his feet. Jason hated how demeaning the low laced collar was, practically revealing his breasts for all the world to see, evoking interested looks to shoot at him from alphas all around which Jason absolutely detested. He also hated the perfumes that he was made to wear. They were too sweet, too artificial. Too obviously omega.

“I will kill Roman for this,” he said through clenched teeth. And to think the bastard alpha had the audacity to suggest that he also powder his face white and rouge his cheeks. He missed his coat, his red-colored hooded cloak and his simple mask (not like the frilly one he’s forced to wear to the masked ball), and his boots (God, did he miss his boots). But most importantly, Jason missed his guns. He missed his belt and his firearms, and he wished he was anywhere but here, dressed in unisex habits wreaking havoc in the harbor near the Wayne’s ships instead of standing here pretending to be some vulnerable damsel wearing these demeaning pannier and bows and satins that dragged on the ground, trying to use his omega attractiveness against the supposedly unsuspecting Waynes.

Jason huffed out a frustrated sigh before looking around himself. And, after making sure that no one was staring, he quietly and stealthily took off the ruffled red domino mask to reveal his face. Jason wanted a break. He needed one.

The Waynes had three sons and only one of them was alpha, a rich kid who was more into playing around than any official courtship and more into forming his own pack of misfits than staying home and taking over the pack legacy like a responsible alpha son should. Jason had read all the files on Richard Grayson before Roman had made him prepare for the ball, and he wasn’t convinced one bit that this plan was going to work.

‘But wouldn’t it be easier if you used an omega with more finesse who is more experienced with higher society?’ he’d asked.

‘Son,’ Roman had answered, right before he helped lace on Jason’s stays, ‘you’re selling yourself short. Besides, your training made you the best omega for this job.’

Except it’s easier said than done. Trying to disguise himself as a fine omega who’s lived among aristocracy his whole life when he was in actuality but a street urchin found curled up in the gutter was bloody hard. Jason didn’t have a smidge of clue on how to act properly and pretend to be a respectable omega like the rich bastards he was finding himself amongst right now. Only making things harder was him trying to locate the couple of targets he was meant to seduce in a massive ballroom where every single alpha, omega, and even some betas had their faces hidden behind masks. Jason had no clue what either Wayne or Grayson looked like in real life, which meant it was almost impossible to locate them among tens of masked attendants.

And speaking of which, of course, someone just had to decide to speak to Jason the same moment he removed his.

“May I have this dance?”

The voice sounded behind him with a classy but seductive alpha timbre. Jason looked back only so he could yell at the pretentious male to get lost. But that’s not what ended up happening. As soon as he had his eyes set on the young man, Jason immediately forgot what he was going to say.

A young alpha - perhaps only a few years older than Jason and dressed in black and blue - was holding his hand out to him in a polite and gentlemanly way. His hair was raven black, wavy, and down to his shoulders. His coat had golden trims and decorations embroidered among the smooth surface of the bright blue satin, yet they didn’t look overly ornate in any way. If anything, they made the man’s cerulean-blue eyes stand out even more under his simple silken black domino mask.

“You’re not from around here, I presume?” the alpha asked, still holding out his hand, black silken glove with blue strips catching some of the light from the wall lamps surrounding them, “if there had been such a fine omega around Gotham before, I would’ve noticed.”

There’s something...fraudulent in the alpha’s mannerism. The smile on his lips did not reach his eyes, his words were practiced, and Jason was way too familiar with the look in the man’s eyes which showed an alpha’s inquisitive behavior that Jason had known from his days on the streets. The scents he wore were also artificial, smelling eternally of calm sandalwood and lime, not giving away anything about the alpha’s true emotions or intentions.

Jason swallowed. His eyes quickly darted towards his side, catching a glimpse of Roman walking by while sipping a glass of wine, eyes trailing to him unsuspectedly under the black skull mask he wore. And Jason immediately knew this was a dance that he’s not allowed to turn down.

“You have a keen eye,” Jason said instead, couldn’t hold down the almost sarcastic tone in his voice as he placed his own gloved hand onto the alpha’s fancily clad ones, “care to tell me more about this city?”

As he let the alpha lead him down to the dance floor, Jason was beginning to feel anxious. Roman did in fact hire a tutor to train him in the dances of the upper-class, but Jason didn’t know if he’s adequate enough to keep up. He still had his mask in his hand, so Jason restored it back onto his face.

They began an allemande, starting their tip-toed dance to the trendy orchestral music that had gotten quite popular in the past decade before holding hands and twirling around each other, their fake alpha and omega perfumes mixing in a chaotic whirlpool of imitation of courtship pheromones.

“There’s a lot about Gotham that I could talk about,” the young and beautiful alpha finally spoke up, his long hair softly bouncing and whirling around with his movement, a loose strand temporarily stuck to the side of his mask before falling away and joining the others. “I don’t know what could interest a young omega like you. Do you rather talk about the elite or the poor?”

“Anything interesting, I suppose,” Jason answered with barely-concealed boredom, “my interests are broad, despite my designation.”

“In that case,” the alpha held his hand and they twirled around, a wave of dizziness suddenly catching Jason by surprise, “I suppose you might have heard about the mysterious red-hooded rogue who’s been attacking the harbors?”

Jason put on his practiced impassive visage and lied, “No. Care to tell me?”

Another swirl, and this time the alpha caught a hold of his waist and his hand, and they swayed in the music like two bodies in one.

“Well,” the alpha said thoughtfully, “forgive me for mentioning such a dark matter in front of an omega. The man calls himself Red Hood, and seemed to harbor a hate for the rich. He had been sabotaging Wayne's shipments for almost a month. But it’s nothing someone like you should worry about...we town folks are generally safe, despite being the ‘rich’ that the fiend hates so much.”

“Doesn’t seem like a topic one would talk about with an omega they just met at a ball,” Jason deadpanned.

“You’re right,” the alpha said, an amused tone in his voice, “but it’s something that’s been happening to Gotham which a newcomer might find helpful. And, since it appears this is your first ball, I think it’s proper of me to help...break the ice, so to speak.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Oh, many things,” the alpha laughed, “like how your mannerism doesn’t match with someone educated in high society from birth, or how you look like you are struggling to move in those garments.”

He took Jason’s hand and they made a swirl, the orchestral music in the ballroom ringing fancily in the omega’s ears.

“Although,” the alpha then mused, “isn’t it strange, that no one truly knows Red Hood’s designation, even though most just assumed he is alpha, like most rogues? It does seem a rather rare coincidence that a lovely omega like you would show up suddenly at the Wayne’s ball around the same time their shipments are being sabotaged by an elusive red-hooded figure.”

Jason was so shocked that he didn’t know what to say. He was suddenly glad that the perfumes he wore were heavy-scented enough that it could hide his true anxiety. He almost fell by tripping on the side of his gown, but the mysterious young alpha caught his waist just in time.

The alpha supported him until Jason was able to balance himself on his heels again. Then, he held his hand in a gentlemanly fashion as Jason stared at him speechless and dumbfounded.

“Forgive my ill manners,” the alpha said, “I apologize for my intrusive words. It’s not every day one could find a lovely omega to talk to. You seemed to be someone with similar interests as me despite your designation, so I let myself speak more than I should have.”

And then he kissed his hand, soft lips feeling warm even as they were obstructed by silken gloves. The young alpha’s long hair dropped down and tickled him through the fabric, and for a moment Jason had the insane thought that even his fake sandalwood scents smelled pleasant.

“We will meet again, my lovely omega,” the alpha said as he began to step away, still holding Jason’s hand a while longer as their arms stretched a little to accommodate. There’s something in the alpha’s expression and tone that told Jason he wasn’t just speaking to be polite. He actually meant it.

Then, the alpha was gone, leaving Jason to stand and contemplate the situation by himself.

#ojtw2020 #omegajasontoddweek #Jason Todd #dick grayson #dickjay #omega jason todd #bottom jason todd #myart

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angstyaches · 3 years

Note

I'm literally gonna scream this is sooo cool - also shayne would show up in his docs 100% but he'd rock the look so there is that lmao

would you write a drabble with that scenario maybe?? rin in that dress has to become reality aaaah

-em

This was after I made a post about an idea I had, for Charlie and Shayne to match their ties to Rin’s dress so she wouldn’t feel like she was alone.

It’s not exactly a drabble and there may end up being a part two; but here it is! In my country, we have a party called a debs instead of prom, but for StW, I’m just going to call it their grad ball.

___

Rin woke with a heavy ache in her gut that she couldn’t quite place straight away. There was none of the buzzing electricity in her veins like when she woke up nervous before an exam, so it couldn’t be that.

Through the heavy fog of sleep, she reached out to slap the snooze option on her phone as it buzzed, and shoved it further away on her bedside locker.

There was movement in the house; by now, the kitchen was probably smelling like coffee and toast, her mother would have opened all the curtains, and her father would be playing the news on the vintage-style radio they’d gotten him last Christmas.

The day would be in full swing by now.

Rin grunted and tugged the duvet up over her head, pulling her knees closer to her chest, the swell of fear rising up in her belly with every passing second.

Because this wasn’t a normal day.

It was the day of the grad ball.

Jeez, Rin thought to herself as she felt how hard her heart was beating, how much of a wreck am I going to be on my freaking wedding day? The thought made the dread so much worse that she had to quickly shake it out of her head. The comparison didn’t seem to make today any easier to face into, however.

The knock at her door made her jump, and the fright made any chance of an extra few minutes of sleep slip away.

“You up, love?” Claire called through the door. “We should be at Caitlin’s by ten.”

Rin groaned and lifted her head. “I thought the appointment was at eleven?”

“It is, but she’s going to be slammed today! If we’re late, we’re out.”

And god forbid I went to the ball without any bobby pins or glitter spray in my hair, Rin thought, heavily throwing back the duvet. It was already weighing enough on her mother that she was going to the ball without a date. She was the only one in her friend group who didn’t have a boyfriend, aside from Katie, and even Katie had roped one of the hurling team guys into being her date. Rin had opted to show up alone rather than force herself to link up with someone for the entire night; however, now that the day had come, she was starting to second-guess herself.

Just stop thinking about it, she told herself. You’re gonna psyche yourself out.

She felt her way around her room on muscle memory alone, not wanting to engage her brain in any more thought until she absolutely had to. She wrestled herself into a pair of black leggings and a striped jump with a wide neckline, and stopped by her mirror.

She was reaching for her eyeliner before she remembered she would be getting her makeup done professionally after she’d had her hair done, which made her want to curl up and die.

Leaving the eyeliner pen where it was, Rin forced a smile in the mirror and headed downstairs.

“Morning, Dad,” she mumbled as she went into the kitchen.

“Good morning! Nutella or jam today?” Drew asked, plating up two slices of toast that had just popped up.

Rin’s throat and stomach clenched in unison at the thought of how either of the options would taste. Still, she’d need some kind of energy boost to get her through the afternoon.

“I’m not hungry, Dad,” she said, hopefully quickly enough that he wouldn’t have time to notice anything was wrong. “Can I take some coffee though?”

“’Course. Milk’s still in the fridge.”

Rin nodded and turned to fetch it.

“I’ll put it in a travel cup for you,” Drew added with a grin as he reached for the pot. “Your mam’s like a headless chicken this morning, so I don’t know if you’ll have time to drink it before she’s bundling you into the car.”

By the time Rin had carried the milk carton to the countertop, there was a jingling of keys in the hallway, and Claire’s voice calling out;

“Are you right, love?”

Drew’s grin deepened as he handed over the Thermos cup to Rin. “What’d I say?”

“Coming, Mam,” Rin called back, making a face at her dad and mouthing Kill me. The heavy sensation in the pit of her stomach came back with a vengeance as she grabbed her jacket from the front hall. It was going to be a long damn day.

Rin couldn’t decide which was more overpowering; the lingering fog of hairspray that just didn’t seem to leave the circumference of her skull, or the smell of her mother’s perfume. If her mood had been just the slightest bit worse, she might have snapped and demanded to know who on earth put on perfume for a photograph; the lipstick and eyeliner that Claire had slapped on could be understood, but perfume?

“Smile, Rin,” Drew chuckled from behind the chunky camera. “Let’s see those teeth. Or were those four years of orthodontist visits just for fun?”

Rin sighed and melted into a smile, tilting her head a little closer to Claire’s as the camera clicked a flashed. She loved her parents, she really did; she just sometimes wished they weren’t so damn conventional.

“We done?” she asked.

“Done,” Drew said.

Rin grunted and let her posture fall a little slack. The damn shoes were already killing her, and if she hadn’t been wearing mostly black, she’d have been worried about pit stains. She could practically feel the foundation melting off of her face as her mother leaned in for one last hug before she had to run.

“Have fun, love,” Claire instructed, scooping her work bag up from the hallway floor. “I can’t wait to hear all about it tomorrow.”

Rin nodded. “Have a good night at work.”

Claire blew a kiss as she was going out the door. Rin glanced through to the kitchen, to where Drew was already engrossed in reviewing the pictures he’d taken on the camera’s little screen. The clock on the wall behind him told her that she had about fifteen minutes before she had to leave.

Her knees suddenly felt weak, and her stomach – not that it hadn’t been bothering her all day – lurched dangerously close to her throat. All she’d had that day was a toasted cheese sandwich and the latte, when Claire had dragged her to a little café once her hair and make-up appointments were finished with. She could suddenly taste the slightly charred crusts of the bread, and the rich, frothy coffee burned deep in her chest.

She stole one last glance to see that her father was still preoccupied before letting herself bring a hand to her mouth. Breathe, she told herself, drawing air in through her nose even though it was still somehow thick with hairspray. The breath seemed to catch in her throat, and the pain in her stomach seemed to drop lower and rise higher all at once.

Rin’s knees had all but buckled by the time she’d kicked off the lacey heeled shoes. The layers of black and pink tulle in her dress rustled as she turned and hurried up the stairs, feet thumping lightly in their delicate, sheer black tights.

The first retch caught her by surprise, before she’d made it to the toilet. She clapped her other hand to her mouth, hoping to create a vacuum and prevent anything from dripping down onto her dress. The sick was hot, and with nowhere else to go, she felt it smear against her lips and the end of her nose.

The sensation and the smell were enough to draw out another deep heave, accompanied by a belch this time. Luckily, she’d just about made it to the toilet, so she let herself double over and yanked her hands away with a quick prayer that her dress was out of the splash zone.

Rin coughed and let another wave of puke stream into the toilet, and then she clenched her teeth. She reached for the toilet paper and got her hands as clean as she could before taking off her glasses and gathering up the tulle skirts. She held the fabric in as tight a knot as she could. Her belly ached and gurgled as it waited for her to get into position again. As it shot another reminder of her lunch into her mouth, Rin couldn’t help but feel relieved that she’d decided on having her hair put into an updo; things would have been ten times worse if she’d also been attempting to keep hair out of her face too.

“Shit,” she whimpered to herself as she managed to straighten up. She was a little dizzy, but most of the pain in her belly seemed to ease off. She flushed the toilet and washed her hands and inspected herself for mess. All that was out of place was some ruined foundation around her mouth, and a little leakage in her eyeliner. Luckily the lash glue had stayed in place when her eyes had started watering.

She brushed her teeth, raced to her bedroom, and touched her makeup up as best she could with her own eyeliner and a powder foundation she hadn’t used in months. Her eyes were still a little bloodshot, but at least she had a little longer to recover before she got to the venue and had to smile for more photographs.

“Docs.”

When Shayne had seen Charlie emerge from the passenger side of Ingrid’s car, he’d looked down, starting to kick softly at the kerb. There was a feeling in his stomach he couldn’t put words to, and he had to focus carefully on his breathing. That was when he’d heard Charlie’s voice, and his head had snapped up.

Charlie’s hair was freshly cut and gelled perfectly in place, and his suit jacket and pants almost matched the deep navy of the night sky. He’d stopped a few metres away, lingering on the path, looking a bit like he’d just seen a plague of locusts heading their way.

“You wore your Docs?”

Shayne glanced down at his feet. It hadn’t occurred to him to get new shoes to go with the simple black suit that Nancy had bought for him. He now realised he should have at least taken out the rainbow laces in the right boot and put the original black ones in for the night, but it was too late for that now.

He felt heat gather in his cheeks as he cleared his throat. “You look nice enough for both of us, Charlie.”

“I never said you didn’t -” Charlie blinked as he fought back a smile, the slightest hint of a blush crossing his cheeks too. “Thanks. I - I’m glad you remembered the tie.”

“’Course I remembered the tie,” Shayne mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets and feeling like a teenager getting scolded. “You only mentioned it about sixty times and threatened to cut my head off.”

“I would never.” Charlie put a hand on the back of Shayne’s head, pulling it closer to he could kiss his forehead. “I like this head too much.”

Shayne’s stomach did a little flip. He leaned into the kiss, resting his forehead on Charlie’s shoulder as soon as he was allowed. “I’m so nervous.”

“That’s okay,” Charlie sighed. “You should have felt how fast my heart was pounding when I first saw you.”

Drew looked up from sweeping the kitchen floor, laying the brush against the countertop, as Rin walked towards the kitchen, carrying her shoes with her fingers looped through the backs of them. She stood in the doorway to the front hall, one hand on the doorframe, the other smoothing down the side of her dress.

He frowned as he noticed her expression. He didn’t take his eyes off her as he pulled out a kitchen chair, desperately trying to deduce if she was paler than usual under all that makeup.

“Dad, I...” Rin gave a slight shake of her head, lifting a hand to cover her mouth. “I don’t feel right.”

“Here, come and sit down. Do you want some water?”

Rin nodded as she scooped as much fabric into her lap as she could, and sat down sideways at the table. She rubbed at the side of her head, hoping at the last second that she wasn’t pulling her hair loose from its pins and spray.

Her stomach had mostly calmed, at least, but the sense of impending doom hadn’t been lifted. She’d made the mistake of checking her phone before coming back downstairs, and had been met with pictures of Katie and Ashley taking selfies with their dates, looking like movie stars getting ready for the red carpet. And here she was, feeling queasy and pathetic and lonely.

“There you go, love,” Drew said evenly as he laid a glass of water close to her elbow. He pulled out a chair for himself so he could sit at an angle to her front, folding his hands awkwardly across his knees. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Not unless you can cancel out the last year of my life, or better yet the last eight years, so that I was never friends with Katie, or the rest of them, and maybe make it so that I was home-schooled instead, so I don’t have to go to this stupid tradition on my own and be embarrassed and awkward and –

Rin folded her arms around her waist and held back a sob. “No, Dad, it’s – it’s okay, I just…”

“Just what, love?”

Rin covered her mouth and shook her head. The words on her tongue were too strong, and she could already feel them echo down through the years of the rest of her life. “I don’t – I don’t want to go.”

Drew shifted his weight. “Well, why don’t we take a few minutes, and really think about this, and if that’s still what you want –”

“I don’t want a few minutes,” Rin said quickly, knowing she’d change her mind if she was given the chance to think too much. “I really don’t want to go, Dad. Tonight’s supposed to be about celebrating with your friends, and I don’t have... I don’t have those. If I go, I’m just going to have to hear them all laughing, and having a great time, and –”

Rin’s spiralling train of thought was cut short by a knock on the front door, which was in clear view of where she was sat. She frowned as she saw movement either side of the fogged glass surrounding the door, and she glanced at her dad, wondering why he hadn’t gotten up to see who was there.

Instead of that, he had taken on a shy smile.

“You might want to answer that, love.”

Rin blinked harshly, reaching up under the rims of her glasses in case she’d let any tears slip out while she’d been panicking. Her ankles wobbled slightly as she made her way to the door, hands trembling as she opened it.

The first thing she saw was the corsage being held out to her. A pale lily on a band on pearl-esque beads. Rin looked up in shock at Charlie’s face, which gave off an uncharacteristically shy grin.

“Evening, my lady,” he said.

“Ch-Charlie Bear?” Rin’s jaw fell open as he took her hand. No, it wasn’t him taking her hand, it was Shayne. She looked at him too, thinking surely, she must have hit her head or dehydrated or something.

As Shayne lifted her arm, Charlie slipped the corsage onto her wrist. As soon as it was in place, Rin pressed both hands to her face, quickly removing her glasses so she could dab at the fresh wave of tears.

“Thank – thank you, it’s – it’s lovely, it –”

“Hey – oh no, Rin,” Charlie cooed, gently easing her hands down from her face. “You’re going to smudge your makeup –”

“What’re – what’re you two even doing here?” Rin half-laughed, half-sobbed, finally feeling as though she could use her vocal cords.

She slipped her glasses back on, the strangled sounds quickly dissolving into giggles as she took in the sight of them both – Shayne in black and Charlie in deep blue – standing on her doorstep. She managed to focus on the one thing they had matching, which were the widely-cut, silky ties in a shade of pale-yet-vibrant pink.

“Why are – oh my god, do both your ties match my dress?”

Charlie’s grin only deepened as Rin reached out to playfully slap him on the arm. When she looked at Shayne, she couldn’t bring herself to even pretend to hit him, so instead she threw her arms around his neck. He tensed a little, and she felt him draw a sharp breath, so she didn’t hold onto him for too long.

“Oh my god, you two,” she gasped as she stepped back, fanning her eyes and hoping somehow that would dry up the tears that kept seeming to spring up. “You’re two absolute babes, you know that?”

“Two Prince Charmings, huh?” Drew laughed, rocking up behind Rin and planting a hand on her shoulder. “Both here to take Rinderella to the ball.”

Shayne made a sound that might have been a nervous laugh if he’d let it develop, but he quickly covered his mouth to stop it as Charlie and Rin both threw him curious looks.

“Oh my god, the ties,” Rin whimpered as she looked at the pink ties yet again. She jabbed Charlie in the arm. “No wonder you were showing so much interest in what my dress looked like.”

“How are you feeling, love?” Drew asked sincerely. He showed her that he’d taken her clutch bag from the hallway, so she wouldn’t have to go look for anything before she had to leave. Rin took it gratefully and turned back to kiss her dad on the cheek.

Rin looked at the two boys and sniffled. “I’m good, I – I’m good to go.”

#swallow the world #sickfic #emeto sickfic #emeto #Rin #Charlie #Shayne #female sickfic #sick girls

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creativia10 · 3 years

Text

A siren of a black skirt (v2)

Janus was looking at himself in the mirror since he was ready for the skirt photoshoot early. Remus happens to see Janus before he goes, and let's just say Remus is enthusiastic about the look.

Pairing: Janus x Remus

Word count: 1219

Warnings: Sexual themes, minor Dom/Sub related kink mentions,

Notes: I am going to be posting two versions of this, this has a spicier continuation. I hope I tag this right. I am putting this as M on my ao3 as well.

(Birthday) Janus stood in front of a mirror in his new getup, having gotten ready early, and wanting to get a look at himself before Thomas’ photoshoot for the social medias. He puckered his lips, and turned this way and that, trying to decide how he felt. It was definitely different. A bit odd. He had a say in what he got to wear the entire time of course. Roman had been surprisingly very accommodating, then again he usually got excited over creative projects. Plus, the input of Quil and Lee helped as well.

Janus posed in different ways, to see if any looked different at all, uncaring how it would seem posing for himself in a mirror by himself. This was a different look than his usual one…but he totally rocked it.

He smirked to himself, and dramatically tossed his skirt about. It was so…freeing. And he felt shamelessly drop dead gorgeous. He put a finger to his chin in thought. It would be nice if he could get Thomas to dress like this more. It would certainly be nice to dress much nicer in general. But, he suspected the much more reserved sides would probably not be up for it. He sighed. At least he could enjoy this though. He turned around and practiced walking in the shoes. He heard a gasp and turned to see Remus just staring at him. Janus smirked.

“Oh hello, Remus.”

Remus didn’t speak for a moment, which was very odd for him. Janus frowned a little.

“Remus?”

Remus shook his head and slowly walked over to Janus. Also strange for him. Janus felt odd. He was usually pretty good at reading the other. It was not often the other caught him by surprise. He resisted the urge to back up at all. He never liked to give Remus the higher ground. Janus tried to give him an expectant look.

“What?” He asked.

Remus stopped in front of him. He slowly looked him up and down. Somehow, that made Janus’ face heat up some.

This was ridiculous. This wasn’t even the worst in behavior he had seen from Remus before, yet this is what gets him flustered? Unacceptable.

Finally, after an unsettling moment of silence, Remus finally says,

“Is it my birthday?”

Janus raised an eyebrow at that. “Um…no? You know when your birthday is-“

Then Remus suddenly grasped the sides of Janus’ skirt and pulled him forward until he was flush against Remus.

“Oh really? Cause this is a great present for me.”

Janus breath stuttered. There were many indignant things Janus could say, yet none of them made it out of his mouth. Somehow, Remus’ attention like this was getting to him.

Remus smirked. He leaned forward and said into Janus’ ear,

“May I wreck you like this?”

Janus inhaled breathily. Remus started to walk Janus backwards, towards the wall.

“Remus I-I still have to do the photoshoot.”

Remus drew his hand against the skirt, gathering a bunch of it into his hands, and gripping it tightly as he slammed Janus against the wall, making Janus gasp again.

“Let Thomas do it,” Remus muttered.

(tbc)

(continuation)

Janus was about to protest when Remus hands moved around to Janus’ butt and squeezed, making Janus jolt and squeak. Janus bit his lip,

“That does not leave here.”

He heard Remus laugh a little, which was not a promise.

Remus attempted to but Janus’ hat off while still gripping Janus, which did not work and resulted in getting a snort out of Janus. Remus huffed and just threw the hat off the normal way.

“Hey-“

Remus sighed, and then went to fondling Janus butt more enthusiastically,

“Gosh I love this butt. I didn’t want to relinquish my touch on it.”

Janus huffed, “Remus…” but he shivered as Remus increased his pace. Then he dove forward, enthusiastically plunging his tongue into Janus mouth, and swallowing the sound Janus made. Janus started to lean back into the wall more. Remus started to get more aggressive with the kiss, biting him more, getting some hisses out of Janus like he liked. They both pushed forward more as though trying to get as much heat of each other as possible. Remus was playing with the skirt as he moved his hands, gripping his butt, feeling around him, then back. Given the extra limbs Janus began to feel all around his skirt prodding, touching, lifting the skirt up, feeling him over and under the skirt, Janus figured Remus’ tentacles had come out to play. Which just increased the sensations of Remus touching him everywhere.

Janus felt like Remus was practically trying to eat him, which in that moment felt divine. Remus groaned and pulled away from Remus’ mouth, but seemed unable to pull his mouth away completely as he started to drag his teeth against his face. Janus bit his lips as he let out a muffled sound at that sensation.

“Can you step on my feet with your heels?” Remus breathed against his skin. Janus laughed a bit at that between his heavy breathing.

“Wha-at?”

“You heard me.” He growled out. He teethed at the ridges of a scale before he easily pulled it out. “You are giving me serious femme dominatrix vibes here, darling. I wanna feel the extent of your sexiness.”

Janus snorted.

“Really? Femme, I thought we were trying to dismantle gender expectations.”

Remus shrugged. “I made my point though.”

Janus hmmed as Remus started mouthing at his neck.

“Considering you are practically eating me alive here, I don’t know if we are creating the right mood for that.”

“Hey, who said we had to have traditional kink norms?”

Janus laughed again, and then started to push him away.

“That does remind me, that we don’t have time for this.”

Remus pouted at him. Janus looked at him with mock sympathy.

“How about this, the moment the photoshoot is done, I’ll give you free reign, and we can talk about any unusual fun stuff we can do. Sound good?”

Remus’ face lit up and he nodded. Janus rolled his eyes with a smile. Then he clicked around to get his hat back on.

“Now, I will have to find your brother to help fix my mussed up appearance before the shoot. I hope you haven’t gotten us into trouble with Lee dear.”

Remus made a face at that.

“Oh come on, you’re drop dead sexy like that.”

Janus smirked at him.

“That may be, but I don’t think that is the look we are going for here.”

Janus walked up to him and patted his cheek.

“Take care,” and started to walk away. He heard Remus say from behind him,

“Don’t I get one for the road?”

Janus sighed, and looked over his shoulder at him.

“As if I can really expect you to keep it at that. You are going to have to wait.” He shook his and started walking again when he suddenly felt Remus right up against him from behind. Remus leaned into his ear,

“Look forward to it~” and then licked Janus’ ear.

“Remus!” Janus pushed him off and sank out, not trusting the other to stop his teasing if he kept walking normally. Janus rolled his eyes as he heard Remus’ distant laugh. Well, at least later would be fun.

#nsfsdukeceitweek #ts janus #ts remus #dukeceit

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sabineelectricheart · 3 years

Text

Licking His Lips

Summary: Dimitri is jealous when he sees his professor wearing her old mercenary clothes. This will not stand.

Rating: MA - Content is only suitable for mature adults. May contain explicit language and adult themes.

Words: 2100

Notes: Smut galore. I thought I’d make Dimitri more of a sexist pig, because, y’know, medieval, but it turned out he was pretty tame. Oh, well, next time I’ll get ’em.

“Oh, professor!” Mecedes gushes as soon as they see their instructor coming over from the Archbishop’s room to the Entrance Hall. “Don’t you look lovely this morning?”

Dimitri frowns, keeping his eyes focused on the trunks in front of him. He might appreciate Mercedes and Annette as individuals, but whenever they come together, it was an ordeal. He hates the noise of their gossips and snickered laughter, he detests that sense of a hub of whispers and wasted time when there are things to do and more important subjects to address.

Byleth thanks the church ward politely, but that does not satisfy her pink-haired friend.

“Doesn’t the professor look lovely, Your Highness?” She snickers, and the blond noble thinks this whole affair had been carefully planned by their meddlesome scheming.

Not that he actually needed their help to express his appreciation towards their blue-haired professor.

He sighs. As much as he would like to, he cannot ignore the incessant prattle, so he sweeps his eyes from the shiny tops of Byleth’s riding boots, across her legs covered in black lace and armoured chest, to protect against wandering arrows, to her beautiful face, looking away from his scrutiny.

It had been over six Moons since Dimitri saw the comely woman in such a scandalous garb. He knew those were her travelling clothes, which she used often while a mercenary, but ever since she arrived in Garreg Mach, Seteth had provided her with an array of black and grey dresses to be worn in class, and while out on the field, she usually wore the nunnery habit of the monastery, proper of the magical classes she elected to use, to better assist their learning efforts.

Alas, in a couple of bells, they would depart to Gronder Field, for the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion. She had declined travelling with the Archbishop and Seteth, so she would be allowed a more comfortable wear, and, despite him also insisting that she travel with him on the Royal Carriage, she had pointed out that Dedue was much too heavy to ride the same horse all the way to the Bergliez hunting lodge, and it would be uncomfortable for the three of them to sit eight hours in such close proximity.

Byleth would ride with Rodrigue and the rest of the Royal Bodyguards in the front, which motivated her to dust her old outfit, but it also meant that Dimitri would have to watch that damn skirt to roll up, her breasts to move in the rhythm of the horse’s gallop, her navel exposed to the sun, and he would not be able neither to touch or even speak with her. It would be torture.

He wonders if he would be able to convincedly persuade Rodrigue to force his professor into ceremonial garb. At least they had long breeches.

“If that skirt were any higher, we would all be able see what you had for breakfast.” Dimitri snaps, ignoring the gasps around him as he turns on his heel.

He is not sure why he is in such a bad mood, or rather a worse mood than usual, as mornings were always difficult to him. His headache was under control, and he did catch some sleep the night before. Yet, the prince has moved from gruff to grumpy in a matter of seconds, and he finds his thoughts returning to the vision of the professor more than once as he finishes packing and giving orders to the guards.

It is not that he minds the skirt that sits a palm above her knee. In fact, he loves how easily it scrunches up to her waist as he leans her over his large desk, taking her from behind at every available opportunity, but he does mind that other people notice.

They are not official. They cannot be. He is a noble, a prince at that, and could not afford to court a mercenary in any official capacity, not to mention that her position in Garreg Mach was undoubtedly fraught, and a scandal would cement the idea that she had slept her way into her job, even though the Church would never allow such a thing.

His funk continues throughout the morning, and he is still out of sorts when he meets Sylvain and Felix at the training grounds, probably there to sneak a little bit of practice before the big day tomorrow.

Dimitri channels his rage into his routine, digging deeper than he has in a while.

“It would be best if you slow down, Your Highness. You do not want to hurt something today of all days!” Sylvain furrows his brow as he spots Dimitri’s lifts.

“I’m fine.” Dimitri grunts through gritted teeth.

He has starting to feel more than a little regret that he came here to try to decompress, since both of his equally-noble classmates have shown more than passing interest in Byleth over the last year.

Dimitri is admittedly less worried about Felix than he used to be, since his former friend does not seem that invested in anything other than becoming stronger and beating his sovereign into line, but something tells him Sylvain Gautier is still one to watch.

“Why are you so perky?” The prince asks the famed philanderer as they put away the training lances.

Sylvain shrugs, his grin stretching from one ear to another. “I started the day with my favourite thing.”

He wiggles his eyebrows and runs a tongue across his top lip, signalling he had enjoyed some sort of sexual activity in his room before dawn.

Felix frowns. “You are absolutely disgusting, Sylvain. Don’t you have anything better to do in the morning?”

Dimitri rolls his eyes and says a curt goodbye, but as the day stretches on infinitely, he wonders just who Sylvain is spending his mornings with.

Surely not Byleth? They’re together, right? Just because they cannot be public, it does not mean that she had the right to cuckhold him with the entire Faerghus nobility. He had maintaining unwavering fidelity; she could surely extend the same curtesy.

What does Sylvain even have that he does not? Certainly not beauty, wealth, a title or a Crest, as the prince has no shortage of any.

By the time of their departure towards the Imperial border, he is already at his wits’ end, particularly because he cannot find his professor anywhere. He spends the whole eight hours in the carriage grumbling and glaring at wheat fields and collapses into a restless sleep at his luxurious private room at the Lodge as soon as they arrive.

Though, sleep might be a misleading word. More accurately, he thrashes in the frilly bedsheets in Imperial fashion while being haunted by nightmares of Sylvain and Byleth doing the same thing just down the hall.

By the morning, before breakfast, he has a plan of action, and he pounces as soon as Byleth walks into his chambers.

“What the…” Her words are cut off as he presses his lips to hers, sandwiching her body between the door and his own as he locks the lock shut.

Her eyes widen in momentary surprise and then flutter closed as his lips trail down her neck and a hand works its way up her skirt.

“You are gorgeous.” Dimitri murmurs as he tastes the smooth skin above her collarbone.

“I thought you did not like this skirt, Dimitri.” Byleth teases.

His ice-blue eyes harden as he pulls back to meet her gaze.

“I like it just fine on my floor.” He tugs at the leather straps that held the fabric on her waist and it smoothly slides down her thighs. “Less so in the hallways, where anyone can see it.”

“So, this is what the whole commotion was about?” She folds her arms across her waist. “You are jealous?”

“Hardly.” He loosens his uniform as he pops the buttons of her blouse. “I just value professionalism.”

Byleth snorts derisively.

“Clearly you do, Your Highness.” She gestures to herself as she shrugs out of her top and Dimitri gulps as he takes in the black lace corset, matching panties and thigh-high stockings.

He pulls their bodies together, flushing again as he divests her of her remaining clothing.

“This is our place.” He tells her as she fumbles with the buckle of his riding trousers. It would be a chore to dress themselves back again, but neither cared for that now. “Forget about everything while we are here.”

She bends as if to fall to her knees, but he stops her. Now that she is nude, he has other plans for her.

He lifts her in his arms, carrying her to the seat by the tiny working desk and kneeling at her feet. Her eyes widen as he leans in and swipes his tongue across the tender folds of flesh between her thighs.

“Dimitri…” The teacher moans, gripping at his blond, full hair.

It is an unusual flavour. Something spiced and musky, very unlike what he would expect of a woman that spent most of her youth travelling through Adrestia. Yet, despite enjoying the taste, the reaction she has to the soft licks makes him double down on the task.

His is the only name he wants her to call when she is like this.

The prince moves her legs apart in a wider angle, one that allows his forehead to touch her lower abdomen and her knees to rest against his broad shoulder, and she groans and lolls her head back as he curves his tongue and pushes it as far as he can inside of her entrance.

“Holy Star!” Byleth shrieks as he adds one finger and then another to his efforts.

The professor begins to pant and he has to pull back then, to see her quaking at his ministrations. She is a thing of beauty: blue hair splayed around her face and sunlight filtered by the red satin curtains streaming across her nakedness. Her breasts rising and falling with every breath, areolas large and dark.

A bead of sweat rolls down her neck and past the valley, across the plains of her toned midsection and further still to where his digits are pistoning her in and out.

“Please, do not stop!” She begs, and he obliges, returning his mouth to her centre.

It is a strange thing, to have so much power while bowing servantly at someone’s feet. Maybe this is why Sylvain and his delusions of power and status like it so much.

When Byleth explodes, Dimitri is almost mad with desire, balls heavy and muscles taut. He pulls her from the seat to her hands and knees on the ground and enters her from behind with a single, forceful lunge.

“Not too loud.” He cautions into her ear, although a part of him hopes a certain member of the Blue Lions overhears them somehow.

“Say that you are mine.” The prince demands, quickening his thrusts.

“All yours.” She admits it in a whimper that only seasons his arousal.

He pushes her legs together, his knees outside of each of hers so that she is even tighter around him and he ruts once, twice, three more times before spilling himself completely inside of her, in a most unbecoming scene for someone of his high station.

They lie there together, strewn over the cold stone floor, catching their breath, and for a moment he wishes he was just a nameless mercenary on Jeralt’s merry band, so that he could marry her and make her scream like that night and day.

Byleth turns around in his arms and runs a hand across his unmarred cheek.

“A penny for your thoughts?” She whispers softly.

Dimitri swallows heavily. He knows he cannot tell her the ridiculous notion he was entertaining, so he settles for something else that is true, albeit not front of mind.

“I am famished.” He announces as he hefts himself up.

“Seems like you had a pretty healthy breakfast to me.” The woman quips, humoured by their situation.

He laughs, in spite of himself.

“A hearty one.” The prince concurs. “Yet, I found myself more famished than I was before.”

They take their time dressing, kissing tenderly as each garment is thrown and straightened.

They part ways as they exit the room, him heading for the cafeteria and her for the dormitory.

“Victory dinner later?” She asks him hopefully as she retreats.

He smiles. “Certainly.”

Dimitri watches as she walks away, so wrapped up in the sight of her elegant form that he does not realise he is licking his lips.

*_*_*_*_*

Fire Emblem Masterlist

Three Houses Masterlist

#fire emblem #Dimitri Blaiddyd

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friend-o-dorothy · 5 years

Text

Employability Master Post

So I’m a job coach and I’m in this capstone course focused on employability and job readiness which is like hysterical to me because I literally help prep people for employment for a living. But rewriting my resume and doing mock interviews etc. has put me back on the receiving end of all this again, so I thought I’d impart some wisdom on y’all because I love you.

Resumes

Nothing on the page should be larger than your name.

Do not include work experience where you were fired or where you left on poor terms. Assume HR will contact that employer to seek a reference.

Do not exceed one page. I know there’s been a lot of debate about this lately, but for the love of God don’t do it. It’s still not standard practice to do and you’re more likely to find an employer turned off by that than impressed.

Double. Triple. Quadrouple check for errors.

If you have a huge employment gap, feel free to write a one sentence explanation in italics at the end of the work history section. Between the years of 2015 and 2017 I focused on school or I was focused on my family in the year 2018 and am now excited to enter the workforce is appropriate.

The skills section should not include things everyone else has. I cannot tell you how many resumes I see that say “proficient in Microsoft office.” If you’re applying they’ll assume you are already. Don’t waste precious space with that. If you want to include skills, share qualifications, completed trainings or webinars, and relevant information like typing speed for a data entry specialist or deescalation trainings for social work.

Make sure you have permission from your references before you use them. Even if you have a standing agreement, they may not answer an unfamiliar call if they aren’t expecting it.

Include awards and accomplishments. These should be applicable to the field you’re going into and contain descriptions. Here’s a glimpse of mine (sorry I’m on mobile and the formatting got weird)

Look online to make sure your formatting is appropriate. Also, many career centers at colleges will look over your resume whether or not you’re a student. Old teachers or professors are also helpful when you need a second set of eyes.

Interviews

Pick out your outfit well ahead of time. Wear modest makeup, try to avoid cleavage, don’t wear heels higher than you’re comfortable walking in normally, and don’t wear anything you’ll be tempted to pull at or fidget with. A skirt that rides up will make you self conscious and it will be difficult to void yanking it down.

Research the company. Take time to really look at the company’s mission statement and to consider what it means to you. Look at outcomes from the local branch or department and know the name of your interviewer.

Prepare three strengths and weaknesses. Your weaknesses should be spun as strengths. Example: “I’m excited about my work and have a hard time saying no. I’ve really had to learn to manage my time to prevent burn-out.” Also consider real-life examples of times you have failed and how you can display a growth mindset when sharing the story. On the other side of things, if you can’t tell them why you are worth hiring why should you expect them to choose you?

Never NEVER bitch about a former employer. The interviewer may ask you about your least favorite boss. Do not share their name, but focus on the management or leadership style that was negative while still trying to give them the benefit of the doubt. Example: “A previous supervisor of mine had a very hands off approach. Because he didn’t offer much feedback, I struggled to please him. I prefer to work with a supervisor that doesn’t hesitate to offer praise or criticism.”

Smile, get engaged, laugh when appropriate, and humanize yourself. Remember that they have to supervise you, and just like you’re hoping for a boss that’s likable they want an employee that’s likable. Don’t be afraid to be a little vulnerable. Reveal something about yourself that’s appropriate for work. I’ve mentioned having cats, being new to the area, struggling with anxiety, and being adopted when appropriate and relevant. Here’s a clip from my mock interview:

Practice getting yourself to the interview site a day or more ahead of time and be sure to time it. Maps may say it takes 15 minutes, but if it actually takes 20 with construction, you’ve set yourself up to be five minutes late.

The interviewer may ask how you would handle certain situations on the job. If you are not sure, saying, “I would consult with my supervisor to make sure my response was in line with company policy” is totally appropriate. No one has all the answers, and being willing to admit you may need help is not a bad thing.

If you need time to think about an answer to a question try repeating the question back or stating, “wow what a great question” to give yourself time to think rather than allowing for too long a pause. Example: “Hm, when is a time I felt overwhelmed... well! Last summer I was responsible for running a large volunteer group and I had a number of high behavior clients...”

Send a thank you card afterwards. An email works, but a handwritten card adds a personal touch, shows greater effort, and more deeply expresses gratitude.

Feel free to send questions or ask me to look over a resume or give tips on your interview outfit. I’d be happy to help. I wanna see you beautiful women living fully in jobs that bring you joy.

#mine

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mithranqueersmusings · 4 years

Text

Before This Dance Is Through VII

Chapter: 7/16

Rating: T

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo tried to remain seated as another man walked up to the stage, he'd set to work taking Spike's shoes off then moved on to the stockings which resulted in a great deal of touching. Ringo tried, but he couldn't.

"I need a smoke." Ringo announced, finishing his drink in one quick swig then pulling at the fabric of John's shirt.

John allowed himself to be dragged back through the club, he sipped his drink as Ringo hurried outside. Ringo felt like he could breathe better as soon as they got past the door, the night air filling his lungs which was quickly replaced with smoke. He almost dropped the cigarette in his frantic state, his hand continued to shake as he tried to light it. This had been a bad idea, he should've known.

"You alright?" John asked in a quieter voice, lighting up his own cigarette.

Ringo simply nodded as he puffed desperately, he hoped smoking would help calm him down somewhat but it only seemed to be furthering his panic. John looked at him worriedly but didn't say anything further for the moment. It wasn't very often that Ringo got emotional, especially not around John, but he was finding it near impossible to keep whatever mixture of rage and panic was bubbling inside of him from surfacing. He wanted to go home, the awful sinking feeling in his stomach told him, but he knew that wasn't the answer. But if that wasn't the answer, what was? He was being an idiot, he had been an idiot this entire time, from the moment he returned to this place he'd begun digging himself into a hole. John could clearly notice the chaos going on inside Ringo's mind, his eyes distant and his brows tightly pressed together, so with his free hand he rubbed Ringo's shoulder lightly. Ringo's mind was desperate to spiral off into nothingness, becoming cloudy and heavy somehow, but the feeling of John against his skin grounded him.

"What's going on in there?" John let out a soft chuckle, he was never the best at dealing with emotional crises.

Ringo let out a heavy sigh and finally turned to look over to John, whose face was twisted with both uncomfortableness and pity "I really like him."

"Spike?" John asked, his voice was a far higher pitch than usual.

"Who else?" Ringo scoffed, he finished his cigarette and lit another one immediately.

"Shit." John sighed, letting go of Ringo and leaning up against the wall.

"Shit." Ringo repeated.

Letting the confession fall out of his mouth made him feel a little better, but it also made everything far more real and that was definitely a bad thing. He hadn't even admitted it to himself, not really.

"Why don't you tell him?" John suggested.

Ringo couldn't help laughing "Grand idea. Hello Spike, or whatever your real name is because I know absolutely nothing about you, you might remember me from the two or three words I've said to you. Do you wanna get a drink?" Ringo mocked, his tone was becoming venomous.

John sniggered "I've gotten away with worse."

"But I'm not you, John. I don't want some meaningless shag with some stranger. I want something real." Ringo leaned against the wall beside him.

"I know you're pissed, Ringo, but you don't have to take it out on me." John's tone was light, but Ringo could sense the hints of hurt behind his words.

"Well you're the one who brought me here in the first place, it's practically your fault." Ringo mumbled.

"Yeah to cheer you up, you daft git. If I had known you were gonna fall head over heels with a fucking stripper, I wouldn't have invited you." John clicked his tongue in his mouth.

"I'm not head over heels." Ringo retorted, neither of them were looking at each other.

"I know you. You don't go around liking just anybody. When you do it's serious." John flicked the ash from the end of his cigarette "Don't beat yourself up about it, there'll be someone else."

"I'd believe you if it hadn't already been a year since I've even fucked somebody." Ringo sighed.

"Just fuck somebody then, Jesus. It's not a big deal. The reason you're so obsessed with that pretty boy in there is probably cause you're so bloody frustrated." John began raising his voice a little.

"I'm not obsessed." Ringo scoffed, he folded his arm across his chest while he smoked with the other.

"Sure." John said bluntly.

They smoked in silence for a while, if anybody walked passed them they never would've guessed they were lifelong friends. When John finished his cigarette he flicked it over to the drain and let out a sigh.

"Are you gonna sulk all night? Cause if you are we may as well just go home now." John put his hands into his pockets, looking at Ringo sternly.

"I'm not fucking sulking!" Ringo cried out "Would it kill you to be a little sympathetic for just a second? Would it?"

John blinked at him shocked, it seemed like he was waiting for Ringo to apologise but when that didn't happen he just let out a disappointed huff "I'll leave you out here to have your little tantrum, alright? I'll be inside when you've calmed down."

Ringo didn't have time to respond, not that he wanted to, as John hurried past him and slunk back into the club. Had anyone else spoken to him like that, Ringo wouldn't have stood for it, but it was John and he was used to it by now. Spats like this between the two of them weren't completely unheard of, although most of the time Ringo would de-escelate the situation before it got too intense but he didn't have the energy right now to do that. John was never comfortable being confronted with raw emotion, in all the years he'd known him he'd gotten a little better but that wasn't saying much. It was one of the many reasons Ringo tried to stay so positive all the time, because he knew if he allowed himself to wallow in negativity there wouldn't really be an avenue of escape because John was far too overwhelmed by his own emotions to cater to anyone else's. He didn't hold it against him, he understood what John had been through, but in this moment he wished he would've been offered more comfort than a mere hand on the shoulder.

Luckily the alcohol was clouding his mind somewhat or else what had just happened would've really upset him. Now he just had to figure out what to do. The smartest option was to go home, drink a ridiculous amount of water and pass out on his bed. But it had gotten past the point of making smart decisions. Ringo tried to calm himself as he finished his second cigarette but the ordeal with John had just riled him up further. More alcohol was the worst idea but it was the choice he made, stubbing out the cigarette and heading back inside. He just had to stop thinking, that was the problem, and nothing stopped negative thoughts quite like alcohol did.

The club was still as rammed as before, which was a relief to Ringo because he didn't want to risk bumping into John just yet. Situations like this always resulted in Ringo apologising first, usually in person but sometimes over text, then John would be a little distant for the remainder of the day then would pretend like nothing had happened the following morning. Ringo was more than ready to apologise, just not yet. Instead he slumped into a seat at the further bar and ordered a drink to get him started.

On the main stage was a dancer in a school girl outfit, complete with pigtails and little bows on the socks. Ringo had always thought that it was a little creepy, but the audience seemed be enjoying it immensely, so he just turned his back and focused on the drink in hand. He expected that John had pulled Paul away for a private dance, so he at least had a little bit of time to himself.

Ringo was three drinks down when he started to hear raised voices from somewhere in the corner. Part of him expected to turn around to find John picking a fight with someone, it would've been far from the first time, but instead there had been a different familiar face. Spike. He seemed to have a habit of cropping up both at the perfect and worst time, but right now it seemed that he was struggling far more than Ringo was. He'd changed his outfit from earlier: he was wearing the same heels and stockings but the corset and tutu were replaced with a white crop top and the tight, black shorts Ringo had seen him in before. Evidently Ringo hadn't been the only one to take notice of his enticing appearance, a man was stood beside Spike with his arm thrown over his shoulder which pulled them together closely. He was muttering something to Spike who looked immensely uncomfortable, his eyes were darting around nervously. For a moment Ringo just turned away, he didn't want to be caught staring, and returned to his drink. Surely if something bad happened the security would step in immediately. Surely.

As much as he was trying not to listen, Ringo couldn't help it, he couldn't stop himself from being a little concerned. He couldn't really pick anything out, but he could tell from the tones of both of their voices that the man was clearly very interested in one thing in particular, while Spike was trying to politely decline. When he turned his head once again things seemed to escalate pretty quickly: the man pushed Spike up against the wall roughly and began shamelessly pawing over him, Spike tried to push back against him but he looked utterly exhausted - no doubt from working nonstop. Ringo looked around rapidly to see if anyone else had taken notice of it, but with the crowds of people it was near impossible to see very far at all, Ringo had no doubt that this man had noticed that too before he decided to make his move. Even the bartender was far too preoccupied to pay attention to anything happening around them. Ringo turned back again where the two of them were still struggling against one another.

When Ringo had heard the phrase 'seeing red' he'd never understood it, always thought it was more of a figure of speech than anything with any real meaning. That was until that moment. He didn't remember getting up from the bar, or walking over to the corner where Spike was being assaulted, but he definitely remembered the feeling of the man's face against his fist. Ringo wasn't a violent person, it was one of the last words anybody would've used to describe him, but with everything that had happened so far on that night mixed dangerously with copious amounts of alcohol, he was far from passive. The man hadn't been expecting the punch, he hadn't even seen Ringo approaching him because he was so honed in on Spike and trying to get him to still in his grasp. He'd stumbled backwards, his hand immediately going up to grip his jaw. That easily could've been the end of it, if the man had just stood down and hurried away shamefully, but he didn't.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He yelled out, raising back up to his full height which was significantly taller than Ringo - he hadn't really considered that aspect when he'd been sitting down.

"Could ask you the same thing." Ringo felt the adrenaline rushing through his body, grinning excitedly.

"You're fucking dead, mate." The man began grinning too and it wasn't until that point that Ringo realised he might've been making a massive mistake.

The man swung for Ringo and missed, somehow he was the drunker one. Spike screamed out, he was still pressed up against the wall looking fairly panicked. Ringo didn't try to punch him again, at least not the first time, he didn't actually want to start a fight. But he didn't really have a choice when a fist flew towards his face again, he ducked out of the way fairly easily and threw another punch at the man's stomach. By this point people around had started noticing what was happening, yet there was still no sign of security. As most drunk crowds did when confronted with a fight, they began chanting and cheering loudly. Somehow the man got a grip of Ringo by the shoulders, he was a lot stronger than Ringo had anticipated, and he was essentially helpless as the man thrust his head down onto Ringo's own which sent a seering pain through his body - that certainly wasn't going to help with the hangover in the morning. The man went to headbutt Ringo again but before he could even try, he buckled at the knees and stumbled backwards. Ringo whipped his head around quickly to see Spike had taken off his heels and was wielding them like a weapon, it would've been a comical sight if his ears weren't currently ringing.

Security finally showed up by the time the man was regaining awareness, they gripped both him and Ringo and escorted them roughly to the entrance. Spike had been calling out something, Ringo figured to try and explain what had happened but they were far from interested. As he was shoved out onto the pavement, his feet skidding across the floor, Ringo only hoped that John hadn't seen the whole ordeal. Now was probably as good a time as any to text him an apology of sorts.

just got kicked out so im heading home sorry for being dramatic please let me know when you get home safe

He stared at the words before sending them. A sigh left his mouth as he locked his screen and slid it back into his pocket, at least it hadn't gotten smashed in the chaos of it all. As he looked back upwards, expecting to see a very unhappy looking bouncer, he was surprised to see Spike standing there. His makeup had ran a little around his eyes from where they must've watered in distress. He was clutching his arms around himself in an attempt to shield from the cold. Instead of the usual smug grin he wore, he had a small, almost timid, smile across his lips.

"Spike." Ringo breathed out instinctively.

"Only after 9." He chuckled but it came out heavy and a little sad.

"Are you alright?" Ringo took a step forward but halted before getting any closer "I'm sorry for all that, I don't really know what happened. I-"

"Thank you." Spike interrupted him "I would've done him in myself if I could. But thanks for coming to my rescue."

"N-no problem." Ringo stammered a little "You won't get in trouble will you?"

Spike laughed, a genuine one this time "Should bloody hope not. Don't think you'll be getting back in tonight, though."

"That's fine by me. I should be heading home anyway." Ringo sighed, the adrenaline was fading rapidly and he was beginning to feel tired.

"Do you wanna get a drink?" Spike asked with a potential hint of nervousness "Feel like I owe you one."

"You don't owe me anything, honestly." Ringo smiled at him, it felt like the first time they'd properly looked at one another "Don't you have to get back to work?"

"Un-fucking-likely. I knew this whole thing was a bad idea, I knew people were gonna get too grabby. I tried to tell Paul but he wouldn't listen." Spike sighed.

"It was Paul's idea?" Ringo found it quite amusing.

"Yeah." Spike's attention snapped back, he'd been drifting before "You know Paul?"

"Not really. My mate John's one of his frequent customers, I believe." Ringo raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh yeah, John." Spike exhaled a quick laugh "Is he here tonight?"

"Somewhere. We had a bit of a tiff so I think he's run off to Paul." Ringo tried not to sound bitter, but a tinge of resentment came out in his voice.

"About what? If you don't mind me asking." Spike had begun shivering.

Ringo didn't feel like he could answer, he never liked lying even if it was something small but he knew telling the truth in this moment would've been self-destructive. While he tried to think of something acceptable that they could've been arguing about outside a gay strip club on a Tuesday night, he just stated at Spike blankly. No thought came to him.

"Nothing." Ringo said plainly, finally breaking eye contact "I should probably be heading home, don't wanna keep you out in the cold any longer."

"Take me for a drink then." Spike retorted and it alerted Ringo for a moment "I just need to grab my things."

"Er- Are you sure? You really don't owe me anything." Ringo felt his pace quickening.

"You'll owe me if you keep trying so hard to be polite." Spike winked then began turning his back "Just wait here, alright?"

"Okay." Ringo stood there dumbfounded as Spike headed back into the club.

Spike hadn't put his heels back on from when he'd attacked his attacker, he was holding them by the strap in two fingers. Ringo wondered whether he was going to change or not before they headed out. Then he felt like slapping himself for worrying about something so unimportant. Who cares what he was going to wear? The reality of the situation was slowly sinking in, it had a thick barrier of alcohol to work through before it fully did. Spike had asked him out for a drink, that had really happened. The last thing Ringo thought he needed right now was more alcohol, but if it meant getting to spend some normal time alone together - as normal as it could be between a man who was infatuated with a mysterious stripper who he'd just defended from a pervert - he'd do just about anything.

Spike had been gone for a while and Ringo began to panic a little: had he only been joking? Shit. Perhaps this was too good to be true after all. Ringo was considering slinking back to his place, it was a ridiculously long walk but he figured he could use the time to sober up, but before he could make a decision Spike reappeared from the darkness. He was wearing a black fur coat over his clothes which he'd evidently changed, the heels and stockings were gone to be replaced with colourful flares and dark boots.

"Sorry I took so long, Paul wanted a run down." Spike smiled warmly, it almost didn't look like him.

"It's fine." Ringo returned the smile.

"Know anywhere half-decent to go?" Spike asked as he slowly began walking, Ringo quickly moved to walk beside him.

"I dunno about decent, but I know cheap." Ringo chuckled, he was managing to fight back the nerves for now.

"Perfect." Spike plunged his hands into his pockets and sank a little into the warmth of his coat.

As silence began to fall between the two of them, Ringo's phone buzzed.

i just heard what happened are you okay???

im fine ill call you tomorrow and fill you in

what are you doing now?? i can come home with you if they wont let you back in

no no you stay im heading out for drinks

with who???? wait NO WAY

Ringo chuckled quietly at his phone then slid it quickly back into his pocket before allowing Spike the opportunity to read the texts, as much as Ringo doubted he was overly interested he didn't want to risk anything.

"That your mate?" Spike asked, he'd taken out a cigarette and had placed it between his lips which were still painted.

"Yeah..." Ringo worried he'd come across as rude already.

"He seems like a good sort." Spike commented, his words muffled as he held the cigarette between his hips while he lit it.

"You don't know the half of it." Ringo smiled.

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