#did i finish this because of one activity notification i received?

[rheawritessometimes]

{ Xiao x GN!Reader }

{ Summary } Xiao is quite willing to fight for you.

{ Warnings } Mentions of Violence, Non-Graphic Depictions of Violence, Descriptions of Injury, Mentions of Death.

{ Notes } This can be read as either platonic or romantic. There has been no proofreading. It's an idea I've been sitting on for a long time inspired by this Comic by shiba_sketch on Instagram.

{ Word Count } 1,402

It was known well in advance that you would have to face the Shogun, you had even trained for this experience. Resonating with Electro greatly increased your tolerance to the element, reduced the pain of receiving a shock, and it was easier to maintain control of yourself. But what you hadn’t anticipated was the sheer power of the element when wielded by the Raiden Shogun.

A burst of Electro hits you, simultaneously freezing you in that moment and ending in an instant. The way it burns through you forces out an agonized cry, but you don’t lose control of yourself. Your tolerance to Electro had gone up once you acquired use of the element, which was likely the only reason you remained standing. The pain is bearable, but barely.

Adjusting your grip on your sword, you faced the Shogun with a noticeable grimace. It was hard to catch your breath and collect your scrambled mind. Fortunately, with all you’ve been through, fighting came naturally.

It was like your body moved on its own, slashing at the Shogun. She responded to your attacks with unnerving nonchalance, almost mechanical in her movements. The difference in power between you becomes more obvious as she sends you sprawling with her next strike.

As Electro shoots through your nerves, you realize that it wasn’t the force of her blow that sent you flying, but rather the force of your own muscles seizing. There was a simultaneous feeling of numbness and searing pain, the combination enough to disorient you as black began to creep into your vision.

“You are too great a threat to Inazuma’s eternity. So, now you shall perish.”

The words spoken by the Shogun were enough to draw your attention, you were barely able to lift your head as the Shogun’s blade raised to strike in a way you recognized. You’d heard stories of it, of course, but you’d also witnessed the same technique used to reduce La Signora to ash. The Musou no Hitotachi.

Fear jolted through you with an intensity you had never experienced before, sending adrenaline thrumming through your veins. The sudden surge was enough to push the black back from your vision and give you a brief moment of clarity on the gravity of the situation. It was too late, though, you were battered badly enough that you couldn’t bring yourself to even sit up, much less get out of the way in time. Your mind blanked and the only thing you could do is call out for help.

“Xiao!”

Immediately after calling out the name, a feeling of regret settled in you. What were you thinking, calling him into such a dangerous situation? Perhaps it was okay, he probably wouldn’t be able to hear you or even teleport all the way to Inazuma. That would be for the best, you thought as you lowered your head to the ground again.

“You called?” The thoughts racing through your mind were squashed as a plume of black smoke and Anemo particles appeared before you, Xiao emerging from within. He holds a familiar polearm at the ready, prepared to fend off whatever had been causing your distress.

His appearance was enough to not only silence your thoughts but also make the Shogun hesitate in her strike, sword lowering to her side. It doesn’t take long for the yaksha to decipher what is going on.

“This isn’t your fight, Adeptus. Move aside, this person is a threat to Inazuma’s eternity,” the Shogun commands, ignoring the stormy expression Xiao wears as he turns to face her.

“If you threaten the Traveler again, I will put your eternity to the test,” Xiao snarled back, standing firmly between you and the god.

It’s all you can do to force out a soft rasp of his name, the sudden wave of nausea preventing you from telling him to leave. But this time when you call his name he doesn’t respond, the entirety of his focus on the opposing god as he lifts his mask to his face.

You can’t make out what they’re saying anymore and you can’t even remember closing your eyes as the scene fades to nothing.

 -

When you come to again, you no longer sense the immense presence of Electro. Looking around, you realize you’re not even in Inazuma anymore. Instead, you appear to be in Liyue moving through the halls of the Wangshu Inn.

“Stop struggling, go back to sleep,” a familiar voice commands.

When you look up to see the source, the fact you are not walking yourself dawns on you. Instead, Xiao is carrying you towards a bed. When he sets you down gently on the sheets you can’t find it in yourself to stay awake any longer, falling asleep just as he asked.

-

The next time you wake up, your head feels much more clear. You’re able to sit up immediately, looking around the room Xiao took you to upon returning to Liyue. There’s no one in the room with you, and for some reason, you feel a bit disappointed to find yourself alone. But there is a glass of water and a bowl of some sort of soup sitting on the bedside table. It must not have been long since it was placed there, you can still see the steam rising off of it.

You lean back with a sigh, wondering where Xiao went. You hadn’t really seen the fight between him and the Shogun, but you knew he was well enough to get you both back to Liyue. That much didn’t stop you from worrying about his condition, though. You contemplated calling out to him, glancing up to the ceiling in your pondering. You didn’t need to think any further than that.

“Archons, Xiao!” you curse, having spotted his figure sitting in the rafters. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Xiao blinks owlishly at you, as though he doesn’t understand your reaction, before deciding to disregard it and dropping down from the rafters. He looks to be in fine condition as he approaches the bedside, you can’t see any wounds or obvious signs of pain, at least.

“You should eat,” he says, picking up the bowl of soup from the bedside table and offering it to you. “You’ve been asleep for two days, and mortals don’t do well when deprived of food.”

If the circumstances were different, you would have made a remark about how water is actually much more important than food for the amount of time that had passed. But since Xiao had, presumably, fought a god for you and was now trying to take care of you, you took the bowl from him with a soft expression of thanks.

The bed dips a bit as he seats himself at the edge, watching you eat a few spoonfuls of soup. He doesn’t say anything while he stares and despite that, the situation feels entirely comfortable. There’s a feeling of relief that begins to wash over you, the sudden realization that you and him both are alive when things very well could have ended for the both of you a few days ago.

“Xiao, what happened after I passed out?” you asked, deciding not to beat around the bush. You weren’t even sure if there was a delicate way to ask it.

“I fought the Shogun,” he says simply, but upon seeing your expression he decides to elaborate. “I didn’t kill her if that’s what you’re asking. We simply traded blows until she ‘acknowledged my will’ and let me take you back to Liyue. I wasn’t greatly injured, either, if that’s your concern.”

There’s a large part of you that is soothed by the knowledge the Shogun is alive, that outcome likely comes with the least amount of fallout. But there’s another part of you that feels immensely guilty for putting the Adeptus in such a situation, despite everything working out. At least, it worked out well enough that there were no casualties.

“I wanted to apologize for calling you, even though it all turned out okay it was reckless of me to put you in such a situation,” you tell him, finding it difficult to get the words out. But Xiao only furrows his brows at this.

“I’ve promised you that I will come when you call and protect you. That is a promise I will not go back on. For you, I would fight a thousand gods.”

#xiao x reader #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #xiao #adeptus xiao #raiden shogun #tw violence #genshin xiao #did i finish this because of one activity notification i received? #yes #is this more than a year overdue? #also yes #is it good because i've been stewing on this idea for a year? #not really!

[cloudystevie]

pavlov's dog

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

pairing || mob boss!bucky barnes x f!reader

word count || 1812

summary || he kept you waiting and it's his honour to make it up to you.

warnings || smut! loosely depicted mafia business, daddy kink, oral fem receiving, pet names, begging, mild degradation, dacryphilia, pussy slaps, cmnf, subspace, dom!bucky

author's note || 18+ ONLY. hi. i haven't written for more than a year and a half. ive been feeling some type of way about bucky and maybe getting back to writing mindless porn is what i needed to get my creative fulfillment ive been severely lacking. please don't mind the potentially choppy smut as i haven't written in a long while. feel free to reblog and leave comments!!

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

8:53.

8:53 PM, and you were still waiting for Bucky to finish his meeting. A recent competitor was threatening Bucky’s monopoly in New York, apparently, something to do with some guy who owned a publishing company inherited by his grandpa, who was looking to buy one Bucky already owned.

Whatever. You weren’t really listening when Bucky was talking about it over the phone because you were too busy keeping his cock warm.

You watch the digital clock flash another minute, and finally, your phone dings with an activity notification at the front door. Before you can try to be chill about it, you all but run to the door to greet your man, practically jumping on the balls of your feet with excitement. The door swings open, and you barely glimpse Bucky's tired and frustrated expression before it morphs into a sweet smile reserved for you, making his eyes crinkle at the corners and shine. 

Running into his arms, you koala hug him as you nuzzle your nose into his neck. He expertly toes his shoes off while showering you with the same attention. “Were you waiting by the door for me the whole time, baby?” He asks with a smile.

Nodding your head yes and widening your eyes while twisting your lips into a pout, you decide to play the sweet, patient girlfriend who Bucky knows you really aren’t. “You kept me waiting for 4 whole hours, Jamie, 4 hours. I stood right by this door and didn’t take a single break until you came home.” 

A hearty laugh escapes his lips at that, and you can feel the tension from his shoulders leaving as you gently rub them while still managing to cling onto him as he maneuvers you two to your bedroom. Unfortunately, both of you are well aware that patience is a virtue that you very simply do not possess.

“My poor, incredibly patient and honest baby. How rude of me to keep you waiting like this, huh?” He keeps his voice low, both in pitch and volume. It sends a tangible shiver down your spine as he sets you down on the bed. You bite your bottom lip, subconsciously spreading your legs, unable to hide your reactions from him.

Bucky loves how responsive you are to him.

“So mean to me daddy.” You whisper, “need you to make it up to me.”

Bucky licks his lips and clenches his jaw because fuck he needed this, especially after being stuck at his office for nearly 4 extra hours while you were at home looking like this. So sweet and soft and submissive for him; all he needed was someone to control because his empire in New York was being tried.

But Bucky had it under control. He always did. This wasn’t the first time he had to deal with a newcomer who decided to get a little ballsy and try and take over some of his territory.

He always did fuck you more aggressively when work had more hiccups than usual.

“Yeah, honey baby? How do you want Daddy to make it up to you? Use your words.” Bucky’s tone kept dropping, getting deeper and deeper with each delicious word he spoke to your somehow already foggy brain.

Even while he was giving you some control, he managed to maintain dominance over you, and that just flared the heat pulsing between your thighs.

“Need you, daddy, want your mouth.” You whisper, heat spreading your cheeks as you voice what you want, but a surge of pride goes through Bucky. At the beginning of the relationship, you had really struggled with voicing what you wanted, whether it was something like telling him you didn’t feel like getting dolled up to eat at a luxury French restaurant and wanted some burgers instead or how you struggled to say to him you wanted him to take his shoes and coat off before he came inside your apartment and sat on your couch. He dealt with people who feared him every day, people who never corrected him or crossed him. It was made abundantly clear you are not one of those people; you need to tell him what to do and how to do it, and he will. Bucky would bring the moon and the stars to you if the thought ever crossed your mind.

Dropping to his knees will have to do for now, he thinks.

His large palms spread your thighs as your pliant body falls back, but you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch the show. Bucky smiles at you with hunger in his eyes as he licks his lips once again while gingerly sliding your pajama shorts down your legs. You inhale sharply as the cool air from the open balcony doors hits your core. Bucky can’t help the rumble emerging from his chest as takes in your already wet pussy, bringing his thumb up to flick your swollen clit and messily run the tip of his finger around your pussy.  “You were waiting for me without any panties on? You’re that fucking desperate for me, sweetheart? Ready to bend over for me as soon as I walk through the door?”

You whimper at his fingers and throw your head back, nodding it desperately fast. 

“Aww, don’t go quiet on me now,” Bucky teases, “you were being such a good girl telling me what you want. Don’t stop now, angel baby.”

You whine high in your throat as you tug on his hand that is still purposefully brushing over your clit, “Please, Daddy, just- just-” 

Before you can finish your plea, Bucky licks up your slit, expertly swirling his tongue around your clit as your thighs jolt around his head, and a surprised mewl leaves your lips. “Oh god, Daddy, need more, please more,” your hands reach out to grab onto whatever you can, one hand gripping Bucky’s hair, making him hiss and buck his own hips against his tight slacks while the other latches onto the silk bedsheets.

“Greedy girl,” Bucky hums against your pussy, but to your delight, he indulges you, slipping a thick finger into your pulsing hole. Still, before you have time to react to that, he’s wrapping his lips around your swollen clit for the first time tonight and sucks on it. Making your back arch up and your legs quake as you try to simultaneously push yourself away from him but pull him closer. A near-pornographic moan leaves your swollen lips as your chest heaves. You cry out his title as he slides another long finger inside you, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks on your poor little clit and soothes it with kitten licks every few seconds.

“Oh Daddy, you’re gonna- fuck, you’re gonna make me cum please, Daddy, please can I cum!” You babble, drool seeping from your lips as Bucky always manages to reduce you to a mindless, pathetic mess. It had never been easy for you to stop or slow down your orgasm, as Bucky always tended to barrel it out of you. Although you had noticed that the high that spread through your body when he permitted it was much more euphoric than the orgasms that slipped out of you.

Maybe it was something akin to Pavlov’s dog effect. Conditioning.

Bucky was aware of this fact as well. He knew your body, your mind, better than you did. 

A satisfied smirk works itself onto his lips, and he grumbles something against your sensitive cunt, enjoying the way you struggled to keep your body at bay. “I dunno, my stupid little baby, dunno if you’re desperate enough yet.” Bucky’s words vibrate against you and propel you towards your high even quicker. Your whines get more high-pitched and breathy as you struggle against your boyfriend’s relentless tongue. “I am Daddy, I am desperate. Always am for you, please, Daddy, make me cum.” You whine a bit petulantly as your orgasm is right there. But he’s dangling it above your head and forcing you to obey him. So, you try the guilt-tripping route.

Tears well in your eyes, and your lip quivers, “Please, Daddy, don’t you wanna make me cum? Don’t you wanna take care of me? Make me cum all over your tongue and make a mess? Please, Daddy, need you so bad!” You cry, tears slipping down your face, and Bucky grunts, closing his eyes as he tries not to cum in his pants at the sound of your breathy pitch and the sight of tears slipping down your face.

He pulls back and curves three fingers toward your special spot, and takes his other hand to slap at your swollen clit in quick succession, making you squeal. Arousal paints your thighs as he quickly switches back to overstimulate your poor button by sucking on it so hard that your orgasm squirts onto his bearded face, making him groan in appreciation as he mumbles something like: “That’s it, there’s my good girl making a fucking mess like Daddy taught you.” But you are too out of your mind to really process his words as you struggle to breathe down from your high, tears slipping down your face as you bask in the overwhelming feelings of such an intense orgasm. 

Bucky kisses up your thighs and stomach, easing his fingers out and tongue away slowly so you don’t go from overstimulated to zero all at once. He cups your face in his hands and kisses your cheeks as he shushes you, bringing you down from your high with soft words and coos that appeal to your clouded brain. You cup his much larger hands in yours, pouting your lips up for a kiss, and he chuckles before placing a soft kiss against your swollen lips. He can taste the salt from your tears, and it sends even more blood rushing straight to his dick as he ruts his hips against yours, making you pull your lips apart on a mewl. 

“Daddy, will you fuck me now?” You ask with a certain lilt to your voice. Bucky scoffs before pressing his lips to yours and rumbling against your lips, “You’re an insatiable little whore you know that?” 

Manhandling you to the top of the bed, he throws you against the pillows as unbuttons his slacks and pulls his hard cock out, pre-cum oozing from the swollen red tip as he looks like he could destroy you. “I’m your little whore daddy.” You tease, spreading your shaky legs apart, and he licks his lips.

—--------

Bucky worked from home the next morning. Needing the extra time to make up for the late nights and the particularly strenuous activities that led into the early morning hours. 

As you sat on his lap, peacefully dozing in and out of sleep, he knew he had made the right choice that morning.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes smut #mafia! bucky barnes x reader #mafia! bucky barnes smut

[imaginidol]

Taemin: Scored

As requested. Please feel free to send in any requests!

Unbelievable, Taemin thinks to himself as he watches the television screen in front of him.

You had just scored your second goal for your team, putting you in the lead for the final of the Women’s World Cup.

Taemin’s eyes followed you across the screen as your team celebrated you, chanting their country’s name and pointing to your shirt number.

Your goal is replayed several times in slow motion. Taemin bit his bottom lip at the sight of your unbelievably accurate precision as you launched the ball swiftly under the goalie’s legs.

Damn, he searches the screen for your name, she's really thriving now...

Not more than two quick minutes had passed when the fanatic had found your profile again on Instagram, curiously scrolling through your posts one by one.

She even got prettier. How long ago did we break up...?

Taemin was so indulged into your profile that the loud interruption on screen caught him by surprise: the football narrator had announced the end of the game and declared your team as the official winner of this year’s Women’s World Cup.

Damn! Taemin’s attention focused back to the screen, very pleased and shocked at the final results. Two of those goals had been met by you.

Taemin looked back down to his phone screen, an idea sprouting in the back of his mind.

What if... what if I congratulated her?

It's not like she'll read it. But... it doesn't hurt to try, at least.

And so, Taemin decided to DM you for the first time in a long time, congratulating you and your team for your grand final, as well as to praise you highly for your performace.

Once the message was sent, he curiously looked over towards you again through the television screen, wondering....

--

A couple weeks go by, and Taemin had forgotten about his DM altogether. He was sitting in his dressing room as his hairstylist was trimming the ends of his hair for an upcoming photoshoot.

The boy was mindlessly scrolling through Twitter when suddenly an unfamiliar Instagram notification popped up.

He had received a new messagae... from you!

[New DM: Thank you for your kind words, Taemin. It's been so long since we've talked... I'm sorry I couldn't answer your message sooner. I've been busy since the final...]

Taemin smiled cheekily, biting his lower lip in wonder. He decided to respond.

[Taemin: That's okay, you should prioritize your career, anyway. Enjoy your win, you really deserve it...]

Your response came in much quicker this time.

[New DM: Thanks, Taemin. I hear you're touring right now, is that true?]

[Taemin: You still keep up with my activities? But yeah, I'm touring right now. About to head to Tokyo next weekend, actually]

[New DM: So I've heard. I was asking because I noticed your Tokyo dates align with my trip to Japan with my team... we're getting invited to interviews all over the world.]

Taemin gasped excitedly, feeling a small yank as his hairstylist re-positioned his head and told him not to move too much.

[Taemin: Oh that's great! If you accepted it, I'd love to invite you to my concert dates in Japan...]

[New DM: I'd wholeheartedly accept that invitation... :)]

And that was that, your first interaction since the breakup had finally happened.

It wasn't that bad. At least we weren't petty about anything...

Taemin couldn't help but smile at the pleasant surprise of texting you again, and how perfect it was that his concert date aligned with your Japan trip.

--

Taemin fixes his mic as his team is finishing up their styling, preparing to set the artist off on stage for the long-awaited Tokyo show.

On stage, the lights finally dim and the familiar opening beat of WANT starts blasting throughout the venue.

He's still got it, you think to yourself from the floor seats he'd reserved especially for you. Cameras and eyes from fans were not only on his hot performance, but they were also on you.

[BREAKING: Women's World Cup Champion attends Taemin concert in Tokyo]

Your name was already plastered all over the internet again, this time followed by speculations of you and Taemin possibly getting back together. Some speculated you were still good friends, and you were simply supporting him whilst on your trip to Japan as it aligned perfectly with his show. Others suspected something more.

After the concert, you were privately escorted backstage where you could meet up with the concert artist of the night formally.

I can't believe it. I hope I look okay, you think as a bodyguard made your way to Taemin's dressing room.

When was the last time we even saw each other after our break up...?

You knock lightly at the door, and a couple seconds later a distantly familiar face opens it, smiling.

"Taemin?" you hear yourself say, voice shaking. Am I nervous...?

"It's so good to see you, please come in," he invites you inside. He offers you a few drinks and snacks as well as a seat on a couch.

"It's good to see you, too. You did amazing tonight, Tae," you smiled.

"Me? No, the one whose performance we should be talking about is yours at the final. I haven't stopped talking about it with my friends since that night," he excitedly responds.

"You're just being nice," you laugh.

"I'm being genuine," he smiles again.

I missed your smile, you think.

I missed your voice, he thinks as well.

You spend the next half-hour catching up the way two old friends would, noting that nothing awkward existed between you both since your breakup.

He then invited you for dinner, to which you lovingly accepted. You could feel a long-awaited rekindling friendship sprouting once again after many years of not interacting.

--

It was both you and Taemin's last day in Japan, having shared two concert dates in Tokyo and now one in Osaka. You were set to leave for a football interview in Rome in two days, and Taemin was set to prepare for his next concert all the way in Beijing.

"Taemin," you begin that night's dinner conversation. It was rather quiet tonight between the two of you, probably because you both knew it'd be the last time you'd see each other, indefinitely.

"Yes?" he looks up from his wine glass.

"I've enjoyed... talking to you again. I've really enjoyed all these days I've spent with you. Thank you for... for being the one to reach out, first."

Taemin smiled, settling his glass down. "I can't thank you enough for the time we've gotten to spend together these last few days. It almost makes me really... upset... that it'll be the last time I see you."

Your eyes move towards the end of the table, noticing his hands fidget with his fork. He used to always fidget when he was nervous.

"What if... this wasn't the last time," you whisper slowly, your eyes searching his.

He looks up curiously, wanting to ask a thousand more questions, though the look in his eyes did it for him.

"I'm saying," you clear your throat again, "what if... there was a second chance?"

"Second chance?"

"Second chance... at us."

The boy's eyes brightened, but he didn't say a word.

You keep a prolonged moment of eye contact for a few seconds before he finally speaks up.

"You're suggesting," he begins, "that if you had a second chance to start over... you'd take it?"

You smile awkwardly, nodding in assurance.

"I think I would," you say.

He scoffs, but not in a rude way. More of like, in an I can't believe what I'm hearing sort of way.

"I think," he whispers quietly, "I would, too."

He smiles at you, reaching his hand across the table to take yours. You intertwine your fingers around his, feeling more secure in your decision of dating Taemin again this time than you had felt the last time.

Maybe this time will be different. Maybe this time it'll last... way more than just a year. Just as long as we find appropriate time to set aside for us and prioritize our relationship healthily, everything's going to be okay.

#kpop #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop edits #shinee #taemin #lee taemin #taemin fanfic #taemin request #taemin imagine #shinee taemin #shinee lee taemin #shinee imagines #shinee fanfic #shinee fluff #jonghyun #key shinee #shinee onew #shinee oneshots #shinee minho #shinee edit #shinee edits #taemin edits #lee taemin cb #lee taemin requests #taemin anon request #shinee kpop #taemin boyfriend material #shinee boyfriend material #kpop bf material

[kamyru]

Hihi!!! I saw your family bliss requests are open thus! I would like to request some of our boys from RMD takado and kasumi!!! Thank u!! :D

Hi, Anon! Thank you so much for your ask. Family bliss is the best. I adore writing it. Today I have decided to write about the kids being teens because that's a whole other level of interaction. I hope you'll also like it. Enjoy!

Kasumi and Takado with their teen kids (Shorts)

Word counting: 347 & 315

Toshiki Kasumi

Kasumi was watching a recording of a surgery when his son placed himself between the screen and his dad.

"Can I ask you something?" the boy started while looking away, which made his father see his red ears.

Kasumi turned off the screen and bit his lips from the inside, not to tease his son so obviously. Seeing that he got his father's attention, the boy continued.

"Can you drive me to Takado's?"

The doctor rubbed his chin, looking deep in thought, even if both men knew the answer.

"I thought you finished teaching their older daughter English. Did she have problems on her last test?"

The younger Kasumi sighed. He was a step away from giving up on his plans. However, a notification on his phone gave him enough courage to continue to persuade his father.

"We are going to play games together. She told me her dad got some new and wants to play them with me," the boy finally said.

Kasumi didn't want to use the power of his stare on his kids, not when they were so honest in front of him. So, instead of continuing to ask questions, he took his car keys without adding a word.

The ride was silent. One Kasumi had to fight the urge to dig into his son's personal life, and the other knew better than to talk, considering how attentive his dad was. Every word could make him spill the beans.

"Do you have a crush on her?" Kasumi finally snapped while parking the car in front of Takado's house.

"DAD!" was the answer he received, but he knew his son well enough to know what it meant.

"You're not very fond of gaming," Kasumi continued, by bit his tongue. The boy got fidgety. A gentle smile appeared on the doctor's face. "Have fun and tell Takado I said hi!" were the last words the dad had said before the son left the car.

"You'll see him at work tomorrow," the younger Kasumi protested. But both of them knew that he would deliver his dad's message.

Munechika Takado

There was no wonder why students liked Professor Takado: his lessons were interesting, his experience as a doctor was irreproachable, and a big plus was his exceptionally attractive features - not that he cared a lot about this, having a wife and two kids at home. However, Professor Takado was still a tyrant - strict and disciplined. So, when the class door opened in the middle of the lesson, everybody exchanged looks and tried to see the intruder.

"Hi, dad!" a cheerful and carefree voice greeted them.

Professor Takado frowned and looked from his class to his fifteen-year-old daughter. The students' attention got even sharper. It wasn't an everyday occurrence to see their Professor in his natural habitat. The man let out a long sigh and put the remote for the smart board away.

"What are you doing here?"

"Running away from school," the girl casually said while hugging her father. When she received a cold shoulder from him, a grin appeared on her face. "Joking. I didn't have club activities today. So, I decided to visit you."

Takado let his girl hug him properly and pat her head, receiving "awws" from his class.

"Just say that you wanted to eat at Pen's," the doctor chuckled.

"I want to eat at Pen's with you and my little brother that we'll take from school after you finish the lesson," the girl explained while taking out one of her textbooks and placing it on the Professor's desk.

"What about mom?" Takado grinned, making some of the students in his class grin too, due to how rarely they saw their Professor like this.

"She'll be the best addition to our group."

Before returning to where he left, Takado whispered a barely audible "I know".

Now, Professor Takado's students had more reason to love him, seeing his more human side - the one he showed to his family.

#romance md: always on call #romance md #toshiki kasumi #munechika takado #munechika takado (35) orthopedic surgeon #voltage inc #asks

[camgoloud]

a couple days ago the lovely @nancywheeeler​ tagged me to do an ao3 wrapped here! i have had a Very busy weekend so i am only now getting to actually posting, but here are my belated responses:

Works published: 5 at the moment (with at least 2 more i’ll be putting up before the end of the year; possibly one or two more than that if i can get my act together and finish up the treat(s) i’ve been chipping away at in exchange to my main assignments in a couple holiday exchanges. busy end of the year for me!)

Words written: 41510 posted this year so far—more than i thought!

Hits: 3647 on my 2022 fics

Bookmarks: 118

Most popular by kudos: Do my friends think I’m dying? (or do I just need to go to sleep?), my singular to-date contribution to the ted lasso/colin hughes fandom and first foray into redditfic (which by the way was SUCH a blast to write that i think i’m going to have to do it again sometime soon. i ought to be more sorry about that than i am)

Most hits: look at the desperate man (omg rip to this fic... worked on it for a little bit this summer when i was feeling particularly angsty about Some Stuff i was dealing with. ran out of angst steam halfway through the final chapter because my life improved lol, got re-possessed by various locked tomb wips around nona release day, and now i kind of just don’t ever want to look at it anymore. maybe i’ll finish it someday?)

Longest: same as previous

Shortest: shovel talk (in f major) (most of which was hurriedly written in one day as a last-hurrah before nona came out to smash my entire life into bits!)

Most comments: inside problems which people have been VERY nice to me about agghhhh

Fic that made me cry: any discussion about the fics that did maximum emotional damage to me MUST mention syntheseas’ INCREDIBLY ambitious and well-written nothing but dark and sound, which i reread following its most recent update. if you’re a locked tomb fan and you’re not already keeping up with this fic... well you need to be. basically. shoutout also to @forjodssake​’s feeling good was easy when he sang the blues, which i just read this thursday and have STILL not recovered from—AMAZING character work!!!

Fic that made me smile: so many! but my favorite comfort read for the last year and change has been @nancywheeeler​‘s four weddings and no funeral. melts my heart every time! cannot recommend highly enough :)

Gifts: does this mean gifts given or gifts received? unclear. anyway in terms of gifts given—do my friends think i’m dying was my tribute to @nancywheeeler​‘s excellent good old-fashioned lover boy, and i’ve got exchange fics i’ll be posting for a few people shortly. for gifts received, there’s whatever comes out of those exchanges!

Collaborations: none this year—or ever before, actually! BUT i am very very interested in the prospect… 👀 friends/mutuals/likeminded individuals active in any of my fandoms, if you’ve ever got an Idea you want to bang on about together or are particularly interested in fleshing out any of the half-formed Concepts i toss out into the void, hit me up and maybe we can make something happen! (well, hit me up whenever my dms are working again, anyway… the shadowban glitch which i’ve been living under for going on a MONTH now is a curse upon this earth)

Events taken part in: yuletide 2022, and the 2022 locked tomb holiday exchange!

thanks again em for the tag! in turn i will tag @aberfaeth​, @rnanqo​, @palamedes-sextus​, and anyone else who’s interested! (and who actually sees this—unsure if any of you will get a notification when i post this, due to the aforementioned shadowban :/)

#tag game #my writing

[emmy024]

December 22nd, climate about five degrees and the sun high in the sky. Light rays poured in through the window that was patiently cleaned by the brown-haired young woman; although the photo on the table was an indicator that she had her hair long, it was now an almost masculine cut and with a visible scar on the upper left half of her head.

The whole house smelled of cleaning products and lemon thanks to the spray diffuser. Julian Casablancas’s furious voice was heard even on the sidewalk. She hummed the melody while moving her body to the music’s beat. She still remembered how and when she first heard them: on the radio she turned on solely to place one of the records she inherited from her late father.

There she met one of her greatest pleasures. And all thanks to the birthday man who was not available to celebrate today. "Surely his friends throw him a huge party wherever he is. It’s a pity my invitation was revoked just a few months ago." Almost by miracle and quick medical attention, if she could add.

Rub a little more until you placed her hands on her waist. It looked perfect, in a much better state than she found it when she started. "Well, now I can see my reflection. Cool" she thought with a satisfied smile. “Now I dare Emily to tell me something because my house "looks like a garbage dump."

Her mother (she hated being called “mother”) was an overly obsessive person about cleanliness. Not even because she opened her head like a coconut Emily was able to leave it alone. Eh: at least she gave her daughter a few months of pure peace until her life was in order.

But at least cleaning was entertaining. Away from sad thoughts that could put her life at risk. Also, it was a good activity for a Sunday afternoon. "Until I start cooking Christmas dinner. Then everything will go back to the mess it all was."

Since her mother hated the idea of anything related to cooking, it was her duty to make good use of grannie Constance's recipe book and prepare a delicious Italian dish. That year the Vickers-Luciani would celebrate with the Redfields as an addition to the five-person dinner (including Jake Müller). It was her duty to do things right.

The recipes written by nonna Vickers had to be interpreted perfectly, or three generations of angry Italians would fall on her head. And no one would want that...

She though about it a lot. What could be prepared? Something easy or going to charge? Pasta? Parker's favorite lasagna? "No, we eat that almost every Sunday. I must do something different for once..."

What would Mr. Brad Vickers tell her if he were there? "He would probably be as pragmatic as any man can be, saying 'I don't really mind” and get me frustrated. Just as what he did to Emily."

She decided when cleaning the oven’s door to go for dishes that he once liked. They were relatively simple. And the bonus point was that they would work with her mother. Minestrone soup with the addition of a delicious starter of grisinis along with a spicy sauce. Also, some carbonara for her and her stepfather who both loved the taste of cheese in their throats.

He finished scraping a dirt stain that seemed permanent and finished cleaning the kitchen. At last, she could relax.

"And now?" She made a very thick coffee and added whipped cream from the supermarket. A thawed croissant and two sachets of sweetener. She took a seat at the kitchen table, caressing the head of her tabby-haired Boxer who watched her eat.

The music stopped once it reached the end of The Strokes' second album, leaving her in silence only interrupted by the incessant whimpering of her three pets. "Aaaand… what now?" A sense of dissatisfaction accompanied the emptiness felt inside.

She lit a cigarette and reached out her cell phone. She checked some notifications received during a well-deserved moment of peace and noticed something. In one of the recognized functions to return one (or not) to a happy past: exactly four years ago she shared her favorite photo. Chelsea and her dad.

"What a handsome guy he was! I got the best of him: nose and chin. And a little bit of personality too." She smiled feeling sadness. How much she would like to call him to make a father-and-daughter day. "How old he would be? About fifty-four? Damn, old man!”

"Key word of the day: would be" she lamented, giving the last drink of the delicious and hot coffee. “See, Polly-Sue? If it weren't for this man and his fascination with dogs, you'd be with another family that wouldn't give you this little bit of a delicious croissant.

"Dog’s madman", he whom left mom the most unbearable Cocker Spaniel and therefore my absolute favorite."

She handed the tip to the dog, her four-legged best friend wagging her short tail excitedly. She got up to clean utensils to go decisively to look for a precious object... That for some reason her guts demanded to have it on hand. Sometimes those things happened to her: a sudden desire to go for something related to her past. As a faithful anti-everything of things with a mystical side, she attributed it solely to longing.

True to their style, the three dogs followed her devoutly into her room. Chelsea scrambled her drawer of her wardrobe; she ran documents and other artifacts. She took the most important one: a huge photo album, copied by a melancholic Emily so that she would have something to hold on to. Chris confessed that it all was by pure regret for multiple mistakes Emily let run in the past. Things not said and actions not taken. Well-hidden lies and drawn truths.

In her opinion it was time to remove that painful thorn. "But that's the way she is. You can't teach an old dog new tricks."

She went back to the kitchen. It was her pleasure to see familiar faces of unknown people. She picked up the nicotinic cylinder again and gave it a long puff at the time she opened the album. The title was "Copy number four. Take great care of it and don't do anything I wouldn't do. “As if I were going to use it for a Fourth of July barbecue!”

A succession of photographs from her parents' wedding to her first steps was made available to her. She always found it enjoyable to watch two adults in love enjoy their stellar night surrounded by friends, family and office mates; it was embarrassing to see her sit on a toilet, learning both to stop using diapers and learn not to urinate on herself. “I’ll never understand why this was worth photographing. Like what the actual fuck is wrong with parents!”

Mr. Vickers appeared smiling with a drink in his hand, wrapping around Barry and a man named Marvin. From what she heard about Marvin, he was a good colleague, an admirable father and an exemplary policeman. Constantly thinking about the well-being of others. Barry, on the other hand, was the typical red-haired father who made terrible jokes in order to embarrass his daughters and entertain others; but the heart of that muscled man could house planet Earth.

“I missed him so much! I should send at least one message to ask how things are going, it feels like I’m an ungrateful bitch”. The poor man always cared about her well-being, even if he was covered with work.

Emily exuded her classic strong, confident woman's attitude, surrounded by tall, handsome guys. Something that always made her laugh was the fact that her uncle Josh of just thirteen appeared among adults, much more handsome than him. What a spoiled child's face! Acne, an embarrassed expression next to an awkward smile as he was kissed with affection by his sister and brother-in-law.

She recalled that such a photograph was on his personal desk, inside the lavish office of an aristocratic family full of books and dark aura.

A blonde man with messy hair dancing and making her mother spin like a princess was Uncle Joseph; in another a man with brown hair was none other than the older brother of his neighbor Tyler Speyer. They seemed to dance like there was not tomorrow, or that was her interpretation; Forest's affable smile next to his long hair brought a smile to Chelsea’s face.

If he had remained alive, she was certain that she would be fond of him, never mind the fact that he never liked children.

Magic continued with sporadic parties or gatherings to eat a barbecue between the STARS members. It was no secret among the survivors that all (or at least most) of them were on excellent terms. Except for some setbacks between Emmy/Brad may have had with Chris, the rest were good friends.

It was time to look at photographs of a long-awaited pregnancy. Rumors had it that there was once a photo of her mother crying while holding a pregnancy test. Sherry was a lot of things, but a liar wasn’t one of them; if she claimed it existed then it was one thousand percent legit. Also, how would a dude who loved documenting his life not go about portraying every happy moment of the long-awaited baby?

"Dad was the first hipster that existed. Had Instagram existed in his time, he would’ve been the king of daily posts." Not to mention that after four attempts that ended in miscarriages the mere idea of finally having a kid would probably be glorious to them.

They were very cautious: they didn’t announce it until after four months had passed. That's when the real party started.

A string of photographs announcing it to their work colleagues, receiving gifts in the form of stuffed animals and unisex clothes (they hadn’t yet bet what gender the baby had) and baby-related furniture. One of those gifts was ironically the best: Uncle Joseph had the brilliant idea of gifting them a skeleton-shaped bear. He found it funny and appropriate for a baby.

"Too bad I was afraid of that thing until I was five” she laughed at the time after she gave a puff to her cigarette “He never saw that coming.”

All those snaps were an absolute delight. Those smiles and excitement cheered her soul, much needed for a recovering addict.

One caught her eye: a rather handsome guy, straight nose and blond hair with a good guy face named Richard hugged his mother and handed over a bag of children's utensils next to a stuffed giraffe. The animal was sitting, smiling as he held a heart on his paws. Reggie the giraffe!

Rumors said that each one of the STARS members found that plushie so adorable and soft that they proceeded to hug it one by one. Twelve adults, with adult lives and work, worshipping a stupid giraffe. "And then I’m the crazy and childish one."

Maybe that's why she always felt accompanied and safe to have that giraffe in her arms. Perhaps they gave her a little bit of safety and love by hugging that thing.

A true pity was that it all ended months later. The rest of the pictures looked somewhat lacking in charisma along with color. They only showed their parents, rarely appearing in the same photograph. Either it was her dad sitting in the rocking chair surrounded by stuffed animals, or Emily with a belly almost twice as big as her body. Chelsea did not want to imagine the pain that they must have gone through as a couple to have lived through such a setback.

Time went by and arrived at the first photos where she was already born. The very first contact with her mother's skin was captured, Emily cried and caressed her dirty head barely covered by hair. Why on earth babies come into the world like that? Next, she was held in her dad's arms, resting both on the couch in the hospital room.

No one to congratulate them, they lived in fear that a handful of mercenaries would kill them; there was no newborn party or introduction to friends. The Vickers family (at least the third’s son’s branch) took refuge in the two-room house waiting for the storm moderate.

They needed nothing more than themselves in those ten days stolen from the clutches of fateful fate. It was a follow-up until she found her favorite. Despite not remembering anything, Chelsea was glad to have lived them. It gave her the possibility of having that beautiful image on her hands.

She finished the cigarette and lit another one, although that time she went to the fridge for a bottle of water. She carefully stole it off the album, observing it carefully to delight her eyes and soul.

Her dad was sitting on a purple rocking chair, probably cross-legged. It was a beautiful day out, late summer and approaching autumn; the sun was still shining strong enough to leave a beautiful yellowish glow as it filtered in. This luminous effect radiated perfectly against the strong profile of a man mesmerized by his first and only daughter.

He held her carefully and his heart filled with love. He smiled at the little figure who slept with the pacifier still on her mouth. This baby girl of mere days old wrapped in her pink blanket and wearing a ridiculous pink hat. Behind, room full of toys, stuffed animals and even a rocker horse. Stacked diaper packs, ready-to-use bottles along with the mysterious toy raccoon she still had at home. Why did that thing always appear in photos?

Seeing that snapshot filled her soul with an inexplicable peace, almost as if she were once again hugged by her dad. To be surrounded by the muscular arms of a 5ft 9in, Christian heart and science-loving mind. "How much do I need you! These days more than ever, and that's the worst thing it can happen to anyone."

She kissed it fondly. She saved it again delicately and then closed the album. She already knew how the story ended regarding her life and her father’s. Why contaminate it with spoilers?

“Ti amo, papà. Grazie di tutto e buon compleanno.”

She gave a kiss to the sky as hers nonna Constance used to do when referring to her deceased son. She smiled heavily and went to storing it and then put some music on. That time she chose something to give a little nod to the birthday boy with his favorite band. She selected with her phone The Joshua Tree and the music was played at full volume.

#resident evil #blendercycles #photoshop #blender #render #residentevil #chelsea vickers #xnalara xps #blender3d #fanfic #original character #resident evil oc #emmy024 #brad vickers #resident evil 3 #fanart #oc character #starsalphateam #starsbravoteam #starsteam #stars team #blender 2.8 #blender3dart #blender render #lightroom #resident evil 3 remake #resident evil fan art #headcanon

[angeli-5]

"Bracelet"

By Angeli Mae C. Galimba

In school they say I’m the luckiest girl of all. They say I have everything a girl could ever wish and want for. A girl with pretty looks, tall, right body and fair skin. A girl with different talents such as, dance, artworks, acts, sing and can play different instruments. And consistent academical achiever. I am the one and only daughter of the Owners of the biggest hospital and hotel in province. My parents provide everything I need and wants; they also taught me how important to be humble at all times.

Waking up at exactly 6:00 am, and turn off first my alarm. Before going off to bed I pray first to thank God for another day, and it’s my birthday. Today is October 05, and its Saturday so there’s no classes. Before my birthday I’ve told my parents to just have a simple dinner with the family, and simple celebration with my friends at the morning. As I get off from my bed I went to my car and fixed myself, after that I went down the stairs and my parents were at the dining table and they greeted me when they saw me.

“So where do you wanna go today with your friends sweetie?” my dad asked me.

“Dad, can we just hang out at the hotel?” I told him with beautiful eyes hoping he’ll grant it.

“Oh sure sweetie, okay I’ll just reserve your room” my dad response immediately “Do you want to get the room with private pool?”

“Yes pleaseee” I said happily. “Thanks, Mom and Dad!” kissed them then went back to my room so I can message my friends.

When I opened my phone, my notifications explode with greetings I’ve received from my schoolmates, friends, and relatives. But one greeting took my attention.

*Happy Birthday, Love.

He only have his initials, I back my phone because I got strange feeling. I turned my attention on messaging my friends, and they all agreed. I fix myself and packed my things and went outside. I get my car keys and drove my way to hotel. When I arrived there I immediately went to the room my parents book for me, the staffs welcomed me with a slice of cake and drink. I thank them and they went outside, then a few minutes of waiting my friends came one by one. After we ate we went to the pool side and light the candle of my cake.

“Happy birthday, Ellieee!” they sang and I blow the candle.

We started the party, were playing at the pool and got my phone and check, then a strange message pop again.

*I miss you, Love.

I turn off my phone and went back to my friends then I didn’t saw the plastic on the floor and I got slipped. My friends help me to get up. The party must go on. After the enjoy and productive activity I went home. Prepare myself for the dinner with family.

“How’s your day sweetie?” my mom asked.

“Its Fantastic mom, I enjoyed so much!” I answered happily.

“That’s good to hear” she said.

After the dinner we went home and ending the day kissing my parents and went to my room, prepare myself to bed and lastly pray before sleeping.

A week after my birthday, I went to car and take a bath when I’m about to finish I felt hurt on my legs and I saw a bruise on it, I just ignored it maybe it still from the accident on my birthday. Three days after the moment I saw my bruise, I saw another bruises on my arm. I got worried that’s why I told it to my parents, and we went to the hospital immediately. They run a lot of different test on me. And we’ll know the result after a few hours. We patiently wait the doctor.

“So I already got the result of your daughter, ma’am and sir.” the doctor said in gentle voice.

My parents nodded as they respond to the doctor.

“I’m sorry to inform you but your daughter, Ellie, is diagnosed with hearth cancer.” The doctor said carefully. My tear just dropped. The word ‘cancer’ kept on echoing on my mind. Is this real? Am I really diagnosed with heart cancer? Why? Why me?

They admit me in a private room and a lot has change. And I’m still wondering why this did happen to me?

After months of being observe at the hospital there’s still no progress and improvement. I kept on praying that everything will be fine. My mom and dad visit me with food everyday then one day.

“Honey! We’re hereee” my mom said entering my room bringing my favourite foods. “Ate, kindly prepares the foods for Ellie” she added.

“Hi Mom!” greeted her and kissed her in cheeks.

After I ate my meal, I went back to sleep and when I wake up my parents were already out. While I’m scrolling my phone I felt thirsty so I walked to the table and get water and accidentally poured the glass excessively. The water went to the floor, I got tissue and kneeled down and wipe the wet part of the floor. As I wipe the floor I saw a small paper envelope under my bed, with my curiosity I picked up the envelope and went to my bed. I opened and saw a letter and a bracelet with unfamiliar keychain to me but it’s like an angel since there a wings.

*how are you, my love? I hope you’re doing well. Please take care of yourself. Wear the bracelet, the keychain is St. Raphael Archangel. He is the patron saint of the sick people, pray to him. And always trust the power of prayers.

It’s weird and strange but I wear immediately the bracelet. And keep the envelope and letter inside my bag.

After a month, my improvement is getting better and better. Thanks to the bracelet from…

From? Love?

#flash fiction

[autumn-smith03]

Week 2 - BIS 315

This week, I have created a log and conducted an experiment regarding my own personal use of social media. With both of these, I have came up with surprising and amazing conclusions.

Beginning with my social media log, I wanted to calculate figures that would tell me how much I use social media in a day. I wanted to pick a day to do it when I didn't have anything going on because I knew I would be on my phone a whole lot more than if I was at work or spending time with family. Giving you some insight, I ended up spending a total of 1hr 47 mins on social media while receiving 90 notifications and sending 64 across 5 apps. Seeing these numbers made me feel a little bit sick to my stomach honestly because not only I know that the time I spent on those apps I could've used more wisely, but I spent even more time on my phone than documented because I only covered 5 apps. The time I spent on social media could've been used for things such as cleaning out my car, reading, studying, or simply enjoying the weather outside.

Now, with the experiment I conducted, I took a huge break from social media and in return I realized that I should do it more often. The time periods I decided to do was to take four 6-hour period breaks. At the end of each period, I was allowed to check my social media apps. For me, it wasn't too difficult to do. The only thing I noticed is once I was able to check my apps after my break, it would be hard to pull away from the screen. During those moments, I told myself the apps aren't going anywhere, and if someone really needs to reach out to me, they can call me. The periods I planned out for myself was the initial check at 8:00am when I woke up. The day I did this experiment, I had work from 9:00am-3:00pm, so I was fairly busy. I let myself check my apps during a bathroom break around 2:00pm. Once I finished work, I went home and spent time with my sister & nephew, ate dinner, and watched TV. Then, I was allowed to check my phone again at 8:00pm. With this experiment, I noticed that I wanted to go on my phone more before bed. I typically fall asleep watching something on my phone, so I had to find an alternative. To replace my phone, I decided to read one of my books before bed. I noticed that I fell asleep a lot faster than normal, which I loved because I usually have trouble falling asleep.

When I woke up in the morning, I felt more refreshed and had less of an urge to spend an excessive amount of time on my phone. I am happy I conducted this experiment and created this log because it showed me how much useful time I am wasting just scrolling through pages that aren't benefitting me at all. I do want to have a significant drop in the amount of social media I spend per day. If I do this, I know that I will be more active throughout the day and will have more time to complete the tasks I need to without getting distracted.

#social media #business

[divinewill]

Capítulo Cinco: Metacrisis Man

The entire country shut down in response to the so-called G² Impact, but it wasn’t just the United States that reacted in this way. The economic and military superpowers of the world - the USA, Russia, China, Brazil, and India - all seemed paralyzed in a state of uncertainty.

Everyone knew that the beast which attacked Japan would have to be slain, or it could crawl out of the sea and collapse another nation with its hideous strength. However, whatever it was had apparently evaded detection until it appeared on land, and there was no guarantee that there weren’t more of them out there.

Only the Global Strategic Self-Defense Operations seemed to be confident in themselves, but the world was rightly suspicious of their claims.

I was pulled out of school and made to stay home until more had been discovered, so I found myself with ample free time. Not wanting to be too idle, I spent most of my day reading and drawing. My father had a massive collection of comics, dōjin, manga, manhwa, and mànhuà, as well as an impressive collection of cartoons and anime. His love of these mediums clearly came from his love of drawing and heroism, from Beowulf to the Zafarnamah, and it’s where I inherited my tastes in storytelling and media. I always preferred the stories of heroes who didn’t just take responsibility for their power but actively chose to defend and love even those who hated them. “Protecting a world that hates and fears them” was the official summation of one of my favorite classic comic runs, one that I felt was maliciously ruined over time and long before I was born. The first comic I began reading that day was Kamen America, and the last was Ava’s Demon.

I made it a habit to pray the chaplet of divine mercy delivered to us through saint Faustina daily, for the hope of the souls of those who lost their lives because of my powerlessness during the G² Impact. It became a ritual I would continue every day for the rest of my life and would encourage others to join, not just for the victims of the G² Impact but for the lives lost in my future activities and future eldritch attacks. I never lost hope, because it was my understanding that God, being omniscient, could retrocausally apply the graces obtained through future meritorious prayer to those who had already passed at the moment of their death and grant them both the requisite knowledge, power, and freedom to receive salvation. Whether they choose to accept such an offer was theirs to make.

My father has an interesting background. He is a 100% disabled veteran of the United States Army, a former EMT, and a martial arts champion. Currently, he makes a living as the owner of a vtuber talent agency. I received a notification on my phone that he was currently streaming, so I clicked on the notification, and it opened the stream.

His avatar was a wolf bishōnen with dark skin, short, straight red hair, and a science fiction visor concealing his eyes. This persona was clad in armor blending the aesthetics of a medieval knight with properties that indicated a powered exoskeleton. His own streams mostly consisted of a combination of art and gaming livestreams, with occasional forays into political commentary and philosophy classes.

He, like all the talents he managed, viewed the occupation as a kind of kayfabe-based storytelling, with characters occupying a liminal space between actuality and fantasy. In his current stream, he was outlining the plan going forward for the talents he managed, considering the recent events.

He explained, “We will continue to make material in the upcoming weeks, but I’ve granted additional downtime to my idols so they can gather supplies and make arrangements with their families. Regarding talent in the Republic of China…”

I did not stay for the full speech and closed the stream. Then, I called my friends to check up on them. After that, I finished my reading and headed into the garage. The garage had been modified into a makeshift gym where I would practice my form on the wooden dummy and speed bags.

My father, a counter-Gramskian, believed in the necessity of entertainment as an escape and release. However, he always emphasized the importance of being mindful of my limitations. This was a lesson I had learned the hard way through a recent injury from a fight with a friend, which resulted in broken bones for both of us.

As I was practicing my forms on the wooden dummy, I heard a voice in my head that wasn’t my own say, “Hello there, Miss Trueman.”

Startled, I jumped away from the wooden dummy and started scanning around the gym. It had my attention as it explained, “My apologies. I am a telepath.”

I thought to myself, “What the hell?”

Still closely examining the room as a precautionary measure.

The voice explained, “Do not worry. I can only relay information. I can’t actually cause people to think or do anything.”

I quipped back silently, “But you can apparently read minds.”

The voice explained, “Yes, but my abilities work more like a search engine than what you seem to think. I can isolate concepts and scan people’s memories and thoughts for information without eavesdropping on unrelated information.”

I switched to thinking in Mandarin, but the voice was one step ahead of me.

“Nice try, but my ability bypasses all linguistic barriers.” It told me smugly in the language I was now thinking in.

I reluctantly considered transforming into the Lolita Princess, but the voice asked for a moment to explain itself.

“My name is Uriah. We’ve never met, but we go to the same school. I have been searching for metahumans with remarkable powers.”

I asked him incredulously, “Why?”

He explained, “A great evil is coming to the city of New Providence. Something fundamentally unlike the kaijū that destroyed Tomoeda.”

I told him, “Cut out the cryptic bush beating and get straight to it.”

Uriah agreeing with a caveat, “Of course, but before that, I’d like you to meet the rest of the team.”

“Team?” I asked

The ghostly image of four middle school girls—Chinese, Japanese, Arabic, and Hispanic—appeared in the room. They dressed in casual wear: the Chinese girl in shorts, a long sleeve stripped shirt, and tennis shoes with her waist-length hair unbound. The Japanese girl was in pants, a blue, short-sleeve shirt, and tennis shoes with short unbound hair. The Hispanic girl, with hair tied in pigtails, and dressed in a pleated knee-length skirt and cyan long-sleeve shirt. Finally, the Arabic girl with hair tied into a ponytail, wearing a red, long sleeve shirt and skirt.

The Chinese girl introduced herself, “My name is Ailing (懓鈴).”

The Levantine lass made her acquaintance. “My name is Ashadeeyah.”

The Hispanic girl revealed her identity. “My name is Irma.”

The Japanese girl extended a formal greeting, “My name is Naoko.”

Then, as if composed of some wispy fumes, his form composed itself, his arms outstretched to the side like some arrogant, but exceedingly well dressed, middle school boy, introduced himself, “And I am the man who brought us all together.”

He was a Mediterranean lad, dressed in a black, long-sleeved, button-up shirt, dress pants, and black dress shoes with red hair, freckles, and green eyes.

I asked him, “What’s with the getup?”

He explained, “First impressions are important, so I dressed up to meet each of you.”

I introduced myself, unimpressed with the theatrics. “My name is Will.”

Ailing, Irma and Ashadeeyah all seem to react to me differently than did Naoko. Ailing, with a sense of excited inquisitiveness, clasped her hands together with a smile on her face. Irma had a look of slight surprise, with her head cocking back and to the side almost imperceptibly; her right hand lazily pointing in my direction. Ashadeeyah seemed the most taken aback, leaning in with a slight head tilt and noticeably furrowed brow, as if visually inspecting me. Their simultaneous reactions bewildered Naoko, and the girls made eye contact with each other, noticing each other’s reaction.

It was like they were carrying on a conversation without me, as Uriah said, “Good, you’ve found something in common with her.”

I asked, “What might that be?”

Ailing asked, “You speak Mandarin?”

Irma remarked, “You speak Spanish?”

Ashadeeyah probed, “You speak Arabic?”

I glared at Uriah and quietly snapped at him, “This increasing breach of my privacy is not winning you any favors here, boy!”

Back in Texas, I grew up in a Chinatown where I took classes in Mandarin, learned Spanish from my adoptive paternal grandparents, and received instruction in Arabic and Hebrew from a former IDF soldier who legally immigrated to the United States. Even now, I regularly receive tutorage in Venda and Shona, but this was information that strangers could not have instinctive access to. My father did not pick these languages arbitrarily. Rather, he picked them because he wanted to help me connect me with both my adoptive and biological heritages.

Uriah explained, “That wasn’t on purpose… Anyone I connect with a telepathic relay can sense commonalities between each other, whether I want them to or not.”

Naoko redirected our focus. “With all due respect, the reason that we’ve reached out to you is your humanitarian escapades in Japan, as well as that stunt you pulled stopping those thieves, prior.”

Ailing cautiously confessed, “You seemed like the kind of person who would help us.”

I took a frustrated breath and patiently reminded them, “Y’all’ve yet to explain with what, specifically.”

Naoko explained, “Yōma are different from kaijū. They hide themselves in their own domain. A pocket dimension which can only be accessed at certain points in space, under certain conditions, and from which they can subtly influence the thoughts, sensations, and decisions of others. Yōma possess no internal organs, leave no body behind when destroyed, and can create armies of smaller minions called shōki.”

Uriah confirmed that, “Because they leave no body behind, what we know about them is extremely limited.”

I asked, “What do you mean, they don’t leave a body behind?”

Naoko explained, “Their bodies disintegrate into an evaporating ash when they die.”

I confessed, “Well, I have x-ray vision, so I could scan their interior composition while they’re in motion and report my observations… Are you suggesting that no one has ever done that before?”

Naoko, looking surprised, explained, “No. People with x-ray vision are uncommon.”

It was now that the girls and Uriah himself seemed to realize that I have no experience with superpowers outside of my own, and no experience with preternatural monsters outside of one recent catastrophe.

I politely advised them, “Listen, girls… You shouldn’t concern yourself with monsters…”

Ailing, desperately pleading, interrupted me, “What’s coming is the most powerful Yōma in all of history! One which can send the world into chaos, same as that kaijū did recently!”

Uriah informed me, “I have it on the authority of a diviner that a collection of Yōma will make an appearance in New Providence within a couple of months. One of them will bring with it an army of over thirty million deathless foot soldiers.”

Naoko stuttered at the thought, “Did you say thirty million?”

Clearly, none of the girls were aware of this beforehand.

Uriah confirmed this notion, expanding, “The thing is that Metahumans with divination abilities often suffer from communication disorders, which make their visions of hidden knowledge difficult to decipher.”

Uriah’s telepathic relay wordlessly informed me that by the term “diviner” they were not referring to a practitioner of an occult magic, but rather that the word was being used to refer to Metahumans with the in-born power to predict the future.

I simply asked them, “Do any of y’all have any experience fighting?”

Naoko agreed, “Will is right. If we’re going to do this, we need to get together and practice…”

I clarified, “That’s not what I mean… Have any of you been in a real fight? Have you ever been kissed with a fist, had the wind knocked out of you, or broken a bone?”

No one would look me in the eye after that question; confirming my suspicions.

I informed them, “Look… I got into a fight with a friend. She broke my hand, an arm, and a foot, but I broke both her forearms and one of her feet. I only recently fully recovered from that.”

I asked, “Uriah, can you transmit sensory information?”

He confirmed, “Yes, I can.”

I asked, “What about memories of sensory information?”

He confirmed again, “Of course.”

I requested him to, “Show them what it’s like to break a bone.”

The girls collapsed, crying out in pain as they grabbed at their arms.

I requested, “Now send them my experience back in Japan.”

Suddenly, you could see the devastating experience wash over their entire bodies.

I contemplated asking him to share what it felt like to lose a mother, but I decided that such a thing was too intimate a pain to share and might backfire by strengthening their resolve.

I told them, “I know what it’s like to lose a family member. I won’t be privy to you doing that to your parents and siblings.”

Naoko was the first one to respond. “You’re seriously trying to convince us to step down? You just showed us exactly why we need to prepare to fight!”

I looked at her incredulously.

Irma clarified, “We’re not talking about going off to fight in some foreign country… these Yōma are going to make landfall here!”

Ailing reinforced this reasoning, “Our family and friends are at stake here… How can you seriously ask us to do nothing?”

I told them, “Whatever your powers and motivations may be, you aren’t ready for this kind of thing.”

Irma replied in anger, “What makes you prepared?”

I admitted, “I thought I was, but I recently discovered that I’m not either.”

I continued, “My father is a martial arts champion. He taught me how to shoot. I asked him about military strategies and tactics. He explained room clearing drills to me in detail. I even got a BSL certification, and he taught me what he learned both as an EMT and Combat medic. I spent over a month rigorously testing out the limitations of my alter ego, and while I have yet to discover my limits, I know they must exist. You see, I can operate under the assumption that if my alter ego dies, I won’t… because when my alter ego suffers damage, it doesn’t translate to my real body being hurt, so I am at less of a risk doing this…”

I told them, “That bilocation ability is the real crux behind my activities. I don’t have to make the same compromises as most others. I doubt that any of you can bilocate… what happens if one of you gets hurt, or worse, killed? Are you willing to do that to your families?”

Naoko shot back, “We can’t just stay put and do nothing!”

I, careful to control my volume, returned fire with, “Why are a bunch of schoolgirls even doing this? Where are the adults?”

Uriah explained, “Most superhumans do not have the kind of powers required to fight yōma. On average, men tend towards more specialized powers and women towards more broadly applicable powers, so most people who can wield powers that simulate magic are female; even then, such abilities are uncommon. We metahumans have culturally conditioned themselves to be discrete with our abilities… superheroism isn’t common. That, combined with the fact that these things are frightfully new, makes mobilizing defensive force quite difficult.”

Naoko pointed out, “That and just because we have superpowers doesn’t mean that we aren’t subject to the same pitfalls. We wouldn’t have believed any of this ourselves if we didn’t confront fairies ourselves.”

I asked her, “Fairies? Like the Daoine Sidhe?”

Ailing added, “You could call them yōkai or yāo if you want. They’re essentially the same thing.”

I asked incredulously, “You expect me to believe that I am the first superpowered vigilante and that fairies walk alongside metahumans?”

Uriah admitted, “No. The magical girl who patrolled this district for four years disappeared months ago. And fairies are much more elusive than metahumans are. Hence why most of us do not believe they exist.”

I decided to ignore the bit about magical girls apparently being real too and further argued, “Okay, forget about the fairies… That’s precisely my point: what happened to her? What you need are people with real-world experience in a relevant field: ex-military and law enforcement officers. Not whatever this is… She had four years of practical experience. You lot don’t even have a day’s worth of experience.”

Naoko protested, “I will not wait for my family to be destroyed by monsters.”

Frustrated, I shook my head in disbelief and assured them, “Look, girls… I will deal with these Yōma. What you need is a good martial arts instructor… Learn how to fight… Cultivate your minds and bodies and your powers. I’ll even deign to spar with you and help you cultivate your powers, but I will not let you accompany me on monster hunting.”

Irma asked, “So you won’t teach us?”

I told them, “Look, just because I’ve been involved in martial arts for most of my life does not mean I am qualified to teach you what you need to know… I have no experience coaching, just in providing peer support… the kind of fighting I’ve been taught is in many ways both too much and too little… I am underqualified to teach you what you need to know to fight monsters… but maybe getting the wind knocked out of you will knock some sense into you. Also, a prodigious fighter is not made in a few months…”

Naoko attempted to protest, but I interrupted her and told them, “This conversation is over.”

Uriah disconnected me from the telepathic relay. A courtesy I honestly did not expect.

I was frustrated at this violation of my privacy, but I knew deep down, especially after yesterday, I couldn’t ignore the possibility of yōma being real. After all, I’ve been active as a superhero in secret for more than a month. I just dealt with the devastation of a kaijū attack, and I could have sworn I saw a Tolkienesque dwarf on the news with a wand.

I needed to get out for a bit, so I made my way to my room, placed a jackknife in my pocket and made my way down the street, taking a bend at a crossroads to visit the corner store. I was surprised to find that it was staffed, though barely. It was a ma and pa shop owned by an Anglo-American gentleman and his Korean wife, with a specialty as an Oriental market with some subspecialties in European culinary oddities. While this city’s majority population is Pan-European diaspora, me and my father currently lived in a Koreatown, and many of the students I went to school with came from across the country with more than a few being foreign exchange students.

I bought myself a box of jujubes, and I ran back to my house. Along the way, at the bend, a concrete wall blocked my vision, which lead to me running headfirst into a 160 cm tall Japanese high school exchange student.

We both fell to the ground, and I heard the girl, startled, exclaim, “Wiru-chan, okā-sama!”

I could tell that she was speaking Japanese because I recognized some words commonly known in the otaku subculture, but I was lost as to what she was saying. Looking up, I noticed another woman behind her. The sheer size of the girl accompanying the girl I collided with startled me. A woman with a young face, blue eyes, and flowing blonde hair standing 244 cm tall.

The giantess gently drpped to a knee and outstretched her hand with “Small lady, are you hurt?”

I come back to my senses and admit, “No.”

I immediately turned my attention to the girl I ran into and, helping her back up to her feet, asked her, “Are you okay? I should have been paying attention to where I was going. I’m sorry…”

The Japanese girl stammered, “I am unharmed, but I should have been paying more attention.”

I took responsibility for my mistake, “No, I was the one who ran into you, so it’s my bad…”

The Japanese girl had a sense of wistful déjà vu on her face and in her voice.

The giantess introduced herself. “My name is Adora Maheshwaran, and this is my sister, Asuka.”

Turning to look at her, I saw she had a blackbody piercing in her ear.

After a moment of befuddled shock, I introduced myself, “My name’s Will Trueman.”

I noticed they looked like some of the concept sketches I saw in my dream.

I asked her, “So, are you adoptive sisters, stepsisters, or are you half-sisters?”

The giantess admitted, “Half-sisters.”

I asked her, “Did you receive your name from a biological or stepparent?”

The giantess seemed amused at this inquiry. “Quite perceptive. You don’t look Germanic yourself. I’d guess you’re Chinese and Bantu.”

I lit up at the observation with the excitement. “Wait, are you studying anthropology?”

The giantess chuckled at that and explained, “Heavens no, but I guess I’ll answer your question. My sister and I share the same mother, but not the same father.”

Asuka seemed rather irritated at the forthcoming of her sister.

The giantess parted, along with her sister, with the words, “May you live in interesting times, Jeune Mère de Infinités.”

Arriving home, I went back to my room and closed the door. I looked at the palm of my hand, where I had seen a similar blackbody object held by my larger body in my dream. Then, it appeared silently, between the blinking of my eyes. My heart skipped a beat. The “All-Slayer” - I heard it called that. There was a deep sense of awe, as if my subconscious and body were responding to something that my conscious mind could not yet apprehend.

I momentarily conceived it transforming into a spear, the king of weapons, and it did just that. It leaped out of my hand and extended into a blackbody weapon so dark that the surface details were imperceptible. I reached out and grabbed it, and a power surged through my body, flooding my unconscious. It spoke directly to my consciousness.

Not in words, but in pure ideation. Upon slightly moving it, it lit up with an electric pulse, almost as if it cleaved electrons from their orbitals. I imagined it in other forms and it reflexively metamorphosed into a jiàn, dào, and māccuahuitl. I gave it a name, like how my father named his rifle in the army. Its name is Holiday Junction, and with but a thought, it vanished again. I had yet to test this out in the same way I had tested the potencies of my alter ego, which gave me something to do in the interim.

I checked on my dad with my phone, and he was still streaming; so, I went upstairs to my room, placed down my knife, and put on an audiobook of The Neanderthal Parallax by Robert J. Sawyer. I grabbed a sketchbook, sharpened my pencil with my knife, and sat down at my desk. Recalling the odd-looking soldier I saw on the news, I sketched his face from memory. I drew a rough model of the rest of his body afterwards. I continued to draw for about thirty minutes before I checked the news again.

Of course, the news about the G² Impact seemed to completely eclipse every other concern, but some of these titles were absurd: “Kraken Spotted Off Coast of Isla Grande de Tierra del Fuego”, “Giants and Halflings Among Humanitarian Workers”, and “Spartan Society in Antarctica”. I clicked on the article about giants and goblins, and sure enough, there was a video of a man of extraordinary, but natural, stature paired with a woman who was short enough to fit the description. Though it wasn’t necessarily their stature that stood out to me, much like the man with the wand on TV, but rather their faces. The giant had a blue complexion with tattoos across his face, while his friend, helping him direct people to safety, had a green complexion with a red dot painted between her brow with what looked like three petals, pointed left, right, and up, as well as two stems extending outwards between the petals.

At the time, I didn’t know that floral bindi pattern would be something I would become personally familiar with. The world was changing faster than anyone could have anticipated, and it would take time for us in the civilian world to catch up, but unbeknownst to me the people in the GSSDO had already become accustomed to all of this, and that would put them at an advantage compared to the rest of the world.

Luckily, I wasn’t going to go through all this alone; so for the time being, I should let someone else with more intimate knowledge of what is coming narrate their story.

#superhero #magical girl #kaiju #dark fantasy #hopepunk #original story #original character

[yumeyooa]

revenge is brutally sweet | jeon jungkook

—jeon jungkook’s life so far has been going well. he’s the guitarist of the most famous band in the scene, he’s got the girl of his dreams, and everything he’s ever wished for is in the palm of his hands. what he doesn’t expect though, is to wake up one day in the middle of a controversy. what the controversy is, you may ask? a new band has been hitting the charts, and their lead singer is none other than you, a former member of the band and his ex-girlfriend.

➢  pairing: jeon jungkook x female! reader

➢ genre: angst | slight fluff | band au | slight highschool au | post breakup au | exes au | r 15 | guitarist! jungkook | vocalist! reader

➢ word count: 14.6k+

➢  warning: profanity | heavy drinking | toxic relationships | messy break-ups | self depriciation | bullying | messy closure | this is just very much super angsty

➢ love letter: AH SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG T_T I kinda drowned in midterms AHSHSHs but I hope you enjoy this fic <33 there’s more to this angsty collection to come so stay tuned!! 

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Life couldn’t be any better. 

This is what Jeon Jungkook constantly told himself every morning after his short, fifteen-minute shower while messily tousling his hair in an extra-soft towel as he takes in the dreary yet somehow vibrant view from his penthouse apartment, soaking in the sun’s rays. 

The city was busy, even though the sun had just risen and bloomed into full glory. The streets were filled with people rushing to get wherever they needed to be, cars driving past with the fervor of a shackled mad man on wheels. If Jungkook looked closer, he would have probably seen the black exhaust drifting in the air from the fumes of those ecologically damaging vehicles or the frantic looks on an office worker’s face as they hurriedly crossed the street obviously late for work. 

But alas, Jungkook couldn’t care less about the trials and tribulations of some strangers he didn’t even know. After all, his life was going great. In fact, he was literally walking on cloud nine at this point and felt like nothing had stopped him. 

Of course, it wasn’t always this way, which was why Jungkook appreciated his success tenfold. 

He, like every other success story, had started from the ground up. Music was something he had always dreamed of doing for the rest of his life. Ever since his grandfather had first shown him how to play the guitar, the melodies had wrapped their whimsical tunes around his heart and made themselves stay. It was fascinating to him how playing a couple of strings could produce such music that could move souls and bring smiles to people’s faces.

And ever since then, he was hooked. Every chance he got, he would play the guitar even if his parents tried to pry him off it. 

They wanted him to be a doctor after all, and there was no way in hell he was going to go by their wishes. While being a doctor was great, it didn’t ignite the same spark that music did, and for Jungkook, he would rather die than live a life without his flame running ablaze.

So, against his parent’s wishes, he pursued a career in music. It wasn’t easy, of course. At first, he had no support system for his dream. His friends and teachers ridiculed and discouraged him, saying that the future was bleak and he had no hopes of making it big. But if Jungkook knew anything about himself, it would most likely have to do with the fact that he was extremely stubborn and persistent, much to the disappointment of the adults in his life. 

So he continued. He continued reaching his dreams, joining every music-related activity he could at his age until he finally met Mr. Park.

Mr. Park was a bright man who came in one day as a replacement for their music teacher, who was an old lady who stuck to the classics and had a somewhat deceiving grading system. He came into class with disheveled hair, an unkempt tie, and when he turned around to write his name on the board, the whole class laughed as they could see his heart print underpants peeking through. 

But despite his clumsiness and seemingly carefree nature, Mr. Park was a master at his craft. He was the epitome of what a music teacher should be; exceptionally skilled, eloquent, and passionate about what he did. But Mr. Park had another talent that not many knew about, which was the eye for potential.

And Mr. Park saw potential in Jungkook.

He had taken Jungkook under his wing and taught him the ropes of music life. The keys of the piano, how notes were read, how symphonies were made. And the more Jungkook learned, the more he yearned for a life surrounding music. When he voiced his wishes to Mr. Park, expecting to receive the same rejection he had always known, he was pleasantly surprised to find out that he had his support.

Mr. Park was the very first person who saw that Jungkook could have a future in music. He was the very first person who showed Jungkook that there was a path for him to take that was far better than the path his parents laid out for him. A rocky path filled with trials and tribulations but ultimately reaped great rewards in the end. 

Like a moth drawn to its flame, Jungkook was attracted to the seemingly devastating path because somehow, amid the darkness, there was hope. Hope for a happier future, a future that wasn’t filled with regret and mourning but full of triumph and satisfaction. Jungkook would be a fool not to pursue the latter.

And thus, in hopes of finally seeing the light, Jungkook decided to start his own band. 

It didn’t start off right away, though. After all, no kid at his school wanted to be part of a band that, in the eyes of their parents, was a complete waste of time. Jungkook kept his small dream hidden deep within his heart, yet even so, it still burned with an unyielding passion. Even if years passed and no opportunity for him to start a band was in sight, Jungkook didn’t give up, knowing that his persistence would one day reap great rewards.

And finally, his chance came in the form of you. 

From the very beginning, Jungkook had always thought you were strange. In a prestigious school known for being the epitome of perfection and class, you were the odd one out, sticking out like a sore thumb with your disheveled appearance and undignified manner of carrying yourself. Almost immediately, you were set to be the outcast, ridiculed by your peers for your looks and mannerisms, even if, in Jungkook’s opinion, you weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary.

Unfortunately, the world is never kind to those who are different. 

Jungkook’s phone rings from where it is laid on his bedside table, the alarm blaring loudly, causing a shift in the once serene atmosphere of his apartment. Jungkook pays it no mind at first, choosing to finish drying his hair before finally picking up the phone, voice groggy and slightly annoyed from having his peaceful morning interrupted.

“Who is it?” He hastily asks, not meaning to sound as harsh. But could he really be blamed when it was 7 AM in the morning, and he wasn’t expected to show up to any scheduled event until noon?

“Jungkook!” An exasperated voice exclaims from the other side of his phone. It was Namjoon, his manager, Jungkook, quickly concludes. Although it was rare for him to call so early in the morning, especially in such a panicked state. Perhaps he forgot to inform him of a schedule? Although that was annoying, Jungkook wouldn’t really mind. After all, work made money. But if that were the case, it would have been odd for Namjoon to be so panicked about it. The man was known for being reasonably level-headed even in times of extreme stress, so perhaps it was something else entirely. 

“Did you read the news?” Namjoon quickly adds before Jungkook could ask what was wrong. At his question, Jungkook’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, quickly sitting down on the side of his bed and grabbing his iPad from the same bedside desk, unplugging the charger along the way. 

“No,” he says as he types up the password into the Home Screen, laying his phone in between the juncture of his shoulder and ear. “Is there something I should be concerned about? I mean, it’s not like I got into a scandal or anything, right?”

Wrong.

Well, partly.

The moment Jungkook opens his Twitter, he’s surprised to see more notifications than usual. Of course, it was a given for him to have a ghastly amount of notifications as a celebrity. He did have a large fan base, after all. But the numbers on his screen far exceeded that of what he was used to, and amongst those notifications tagging his account, one article stood out amongst the rest, and the headline made his blood run cold.

“What the fuck?” He whispers, staring at the article in shock as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Am I seeing this right, Namjoon?”

The man on the other side of the phone is silent for a while before Jungkook hears a sigh. “Unfortunately, yes,” Namjoon says, and Jungkook can almost imagine the way he’s probably rubbing his temples together while sipping his cup of black coffee in his office out of stress and frustration

“(Y/N) is back,” he says, causing shivers to run down Jungkook’s spine. “And apparently Jungkook, she wrote a song about you.”

 The day Jungkook finally mustered up the courage to talk to you for the first time was an experience, to say the least. For what felt like years, albeit it was only a few days, Jungkook had been observing you from the sidelines, watching as you were berated by his classmates, who apparently had nothing better to do with their time. 

A part of Jungkook always felt guilty for never standing up for you. He knew you needed a friend. Someone to confide in this hellish school that made it seem as if it were every man for himself. But he was a coward, raised and molded to never take a step outside the boundaries he had set for himself, like a doll.

Although, with Mr. Park's influence, Jungkook could finally break free from his shell, even if it were just a mere few steps. 

"Here," he says nervously, handing you a carton of banana milk that he had picked up from the nearest vending machine the moment he saw you storm out of the classroom in tears. Even then, your classmates had laughed, mocking how sensitive you were, which disgusted Jungkook. Didn't they have any ounce of shame for making a person cry like that?

You look up from where you sat on the school's staircase, eyes puffy from crying so hard, a stream of tears still flowing down your face. You looked like an absolute mess, and the sight only caused Jungkook's heart to clench even more. He sat beside you, albeit a bit distanced because he couldn't help but feel awkward. This was your first conversation, after all. 

You stare at him, not entirely understanding why he would extend kindness towards you. Was this a trick of fate? Was he doing this so you would someday do his bidding in the future? The kids of this school were scary, even scarier than the monsters that hid underneath your bed or the creatures that roamed around in the dead of night. Even amidst the light, they scared you, and you were terrified that the man offering you some banana milk would be just the same. 

"You don't have to take it if you don't want to," Jungkook says, after realizing you were staring at him warily, cautious over whether or not you would accept his gift. "Sweets always cheered me up whenever I feel down, and I thought maybe it would cheer you up too!" 

If anyone were to see your interaction, they would have burst out laughing from how awkward it was. You who were wary and cautious, and Jungkook who was awkward and shy. A stark difference between your usual timid behavior and Jungkook's confident act. In fact, if anyone else were to see this, they would have never believed their eyes. 

It was odd, after all. And you knew this very well. Which was why you were so confused at Jungkook's behavior. Why was he approaching you so kindly when everyone else ridiculed and shunned you out? You were different, someone who didn't deserve to be there. An imposter, an intruder. It didn't make sense for him to act friendly. 

"Don't take this the wrong way," Jungkook continues, setting down the banana milk in the space between the two of you as he fiddled with his fingers, a habit he had picked up over time. "I'm not doing this to mock you or make fun of you later down the line… I just really don't like the way they're treating you. It's not right."

You're stunned. Rightfully so. This was the first time someone had ever gone against what others did to you, despite him doing so behind the scenes. A weird sensation bubbles up from inside you, one you can't quite place. But what you do know is that amidst it all, there's warmth. Jungkook's words sounded genuine and sincere, not like the usual condescending tone you were used to hearing from the rest of your peers. 

He genuinely seemed to care. 

Jungkook's eyes widen in surprise when he sees you grab the carton of banana milk, opening the straw in pushing it through, taking a sip. You sheepishly stare down, not even bothering to look Jungkook in the eye before muttering. "I prefer strawberry milk… but this isn't that bad... I guess… Thanks…" 

His eyes gleam, happy that you've accepted his offering and watching with a content smile as a small smile of your own forms on your lips, a far cry from the mess you were mere moments ago. He had somehow managed to cheer you up, and that was better than anything Jungkook could ever ask for. 

"No problem. Next time I'll buy you a whole box of strawberry milk!" He exclaims, excited for what was about to unfold between the two of you. 

But he would have never expected this. 

And on this week's celebrity news: Former Vocalist of The 97, (L/N) (Y/N) debuts solo with her new single 'Move On', which fans speculate is a direct message to her ex-boyfriend and former bandmate Jeon Jungkook. 

"Fuck!" Jungkook exclaims, overcome with emotion, as he watches the news unfold in the conference room of his label. He had quickly made his way over the moment he saw the headline, confused, devastated, and most of all angry. 

What in the world were you thinking, dragging him down like that?

"Jungkook, calm down," Namjoon says from the other side of the room, trying to prevent Jungkook from destroying the room. Jungkook was strong. And if he really wanted to, he could turn the whole conference room upside down in a blink of an eye, and Namjoon really didn't want to deal with whatever consequence would follow should Jungkook actually decide that he'd destroy the conference room. 

"How the fuck do you expect me to be calm, Namjoon?" Jungkook asks, exasperated as he walks from one end of the room to the other. "This is going to ruin my fucking reputation. And it's all because that bitch is too bitter about our breakup that she decided to fucking write a song about it."

"Hey." Another voice calls out, stern and ready to scold. Jaehyun, the band's bassist, glares at Jungkook with as much disdain as he could muster, not believing the words that came out of Jungkook's mouth. "No matter how you feel about the situation. I'm not going to stand by and let you call (Y/N) a bitch. She was and still is our friend. Just because you're so caught up in your perfect reputation doesn't mean you have to bring others down in the process, Jeon." 

It was rare for Jaehyun to ever call Jungkook by his last name. The two were as close as could be, having been the best of friends for more than ten years and counting. Jungkook knew he could trust Jaehyun with his life and vice versa, so it shocked him to hear that his best friend was defending her. 

"But Jungkook has every reason to be mad, Jaehyun!" Another voice pops up, this time a more feminine one that has Jungkook's heart-melting just a bit. Eunha, his current girlfriend, and the one who was there for him when you left him. She was the band's current vocalist, and Jungkook couldn't feel any more grateful to have someone as supportive as her in his life.

"She's using a personal situation to make her more popular, all the while bringing us down in the process! There's nothing else to call her but a bitch when she's hurting the band she started with! Is that how she says thank you when the band's been nothing but good to her?

It's incredible, Jungkook thinks to himself, how he was able to find someone like Eunha. She was the most compassionate and understanding person in the world, a far cry from what you had become. Bitter, selfish, and downright ungrateful. You probably wrote that song out of spite just to get back at him when he did nothing wrong in the first place. You were crazy, and he was glad Eunha allowed him to see through all of your lies. 

"Shut the fuck up, will you?" Jungkook's eyes darted in surprise to Yugyeom, the band's drummer, who had just cursed at his girlfriend. He glares at the drummer, mad at the fact that the usual happy-go-lucky man was now acting bitter in front of his girlfriend, who had done nothing wrong. Were his bandmates woven that deep within your cruel lies?

"Excuse me, what did you just say?" Eunha asks, appalled, tears forming from the corners of her eyes, which only causes the anger within Jungkook to grow. How dare they. How dare they make Eunha cry when she was doing nothing but telling the truth?

"You heard me, Eunha," Yugyeom continues, paying no mind to the burning rage that was about to burst within Jungkook. "I said shut the fuck up. So what if (Y/N) wrote a song about Jungkook? Why does it matter? She has every right to. I mean, our next single is literally a song Jungkook wrote after the breakup, so why the fuck are you berating her for doing the same?"

"Because she's hurting our reputation!" Eunha exclaims, clearly frustrated at how Yugyeom and Jaehyun weren't getting her point. "And besides, she was the one in the wrong during the breakup. What right does she have to make a song about it?"

Jaehyun scoffs, glare intensifying, causing Jungkook to clench his fist at their hostility. "And how do you know that when you only heard Jungkook's side of the story and not (Y/N) 's? For all we know, Jungkook could also be in the wro—"

Before Jaehyun could finish his sentence, Jungkook explodes, immediately rushing over to where Jaehyun sat and grabbing him by the collar, causing the rest of the band and Namjoon to panic, trying to break them apart, while Eunha watches, scared. 

"You motherfucker," Jungkook curses, hand raised into a fist, ready to punch Jaehyun in the face with all the force he could muster. But before he could do so, Namjoon and Yugyeom immediately held him back, causing Jaehyun to let out shaky breaths as he glared at Jungkook, hurt, confused, and angry. "Why are you defending her? She was the one who hurt me! You're supposed to be my fucking best friend!"

"Maybe if you actually listened to what she had to say and what she was going through, then we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place," Jaehyun screamed back, anger slowly growing as each moment passed by. "You've always been like this Jungkook, self-centered and fucking mean. (Y/N) was right for wanting to leave."

"What did you say, you fucki—"

"Enough!" Namjoon screams, holding his ground. This had gotten out of hand, and it was beginning to stress him out, and clearly, that same stress was spreading through every single person in the room. This wasn't even supposed to be that big of a deal. All they were supposed to do was listen to the song you wrote, and come up with a statement, So why the hell did this turn into a full-blown fight?

Gosh, Namjoon needed a raise. 

"Jeon Jungkook calm the fuck down, or I'll have you on probation, you hear? The same goes for all of you. I don't want to hear any bullshit about who's right or wrong in the relationship. All I need is for us to listen to the song and figure out what we're going to tell the higher-ups. So stop acting like you're a bunch of teenagers and sit down."

Usually, Namjoon wasn't this scary. But there was a glint in his eyes that taunted the band. And they knew that in the heat of the moment, the best thing to do was to shut up and listen. Besides, he was right. The way they were going, no progress would have been made, leading to further complications. With a huff, Jungkook sits down, staring grumpily into space. He wasn't comfortable with what had just occurred, a frenzy of emotions bottling up inside him from the outburst.

Luckily for him, Eunha was quick to hold his hand into hers, soothing him enough to calm his nerves and mentally prepare himself for what was about to unfold. Because he knew he wasn't going to like it.

And true to his words, the moment Namjoon pressed play, he didn't like it. Not one bit. 

Jungkook couldn't quite pin why your song made his blood boil and heart clench. From an outsider's perspective, it was a good song. A really good song. As a musician himself, Jungkook would never deny that. You had a knack for creating some really great tunes that were out of this world, after all. It was the very thing that made him ask you to start a band with him in the first place. 

But there was just something about this piece in particular that seemed different. Your very aura was different, Jungkook concluded as he watched the video, listening to the way you screamed about how good it was that he was able to move on while you haven't. How you laced memories and fragments of your relationship and expertly wove them together to create a masterpiece that echoed into the very depths of his beating heart. 

It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Because amidst the chaos, you looked free. 

There was something beautiful about the way you were in the middle of a room up in flames, almost to the point where Jungkook knew that it was metaphorical. You liked metaphors. Jungkook remembers how long ago, when the band was just the two of you, you mentioned how metaphors brought out the beauty of the world. They made the ordinary extraordinary. They made the dull come to life. Metaphors were beauty itself, and that's precisely why you loved to play with them so much. 

It's funny to see how that part of you hadn't changed, even after how many years. 

"Jungkook?" Eunha calls out to him, a concerned look gracing over her face. "You okay?" 

Honestly speaking, Jungkook didn't know. The high of his anger had finally settled, and all Jungkook felt was a burning numbness scouring through his veins. It's laughable how mere hours ago, Jungkook was sure that today would be another great day to celebrate how amazing his life was. Yet, here he is, in the middle of a conference room, watching as you submerged yourself underwater at the last scene of your music video, feeling empty. 

He doesn't directly answer Eunha, afraid that if he were to say anything, unwanted words would slip from his lips, and he would unleash another round of chaos and hell. And he was too mentally exhausted to go through that again. So he merely nods, clasping Eunha's hand gently and sighing as Namjoon pauses the video, turning towards the group. 

"Well," Namjoon says, surveying the room to see the band's reactions. But who was he kidding? He knew damn well that the band wasn't nearly overjoyed seeing and hearing what their old friend had to say, especially Jungkook. The poor kid looked lost. "That's that. It looks too vague to be considered a song catered to Jungkook, so I'll inform the higher-ups that it has nothing to do wi--"

Suddenly, Jungkook stands up, causing a deafening silence to befall once more as everyone watches him with cautious eyes, afraid of what he was about to do. 

"I'm going to get a drink," is all he says, moving to head out the door. No one really says anything in protest, Yugyeom and Jaehyun still feeling the aftermath of the previous fight. Only Eunha seemed to be visibly bothered, scoffing at the rest of the team's reactions before quickly latching on to Jungkook's arm. 

"Babe, it's still early in the morning. At least let me accompany you?" She asks, that hopeful glint burning brightly in her eyes, to the point that it makes Jaehyun recline back in his seat uncomfortably, not liking the way she seemed so unnatural. You were never like that. And while Jaehyun knew it was wrong to make comparisons, he couldn't help it. 

You were his best friend just as much as Jungkook was. 

"I'll go alone," is all Jungkook whispers, shrugging Eunha off who is about to protest, but Namjoon is quick to shut her up with a gentle hand on her shoulder, shaking his head when she tries to chase after him. Jungkook needed to settle down and sort his thoughts through if he ever wanted a chance at getting through this situation with you. 

And maybe, just maybe, he could finally make amends. 

“Do you have a dream?”

This was the question that started it all, Jungkook supposed. He remembers the very day you asked him that one decisive question that, looking back, changed both of your lives. For good or for worse, Jungkook wasn’t sure. But as he reminisces the memories of the past and tries to figure out where everything went wrong, he couldn’t help the gut-wrenching feeling that settles within him. It’s so upsetting, in fact, that the moment Jungkook arrives in the pub across the street, he immediately drowns himself in a bottle of soju. 

The two of you were spending the lunch break in the empty stairwell, the same place where the two of you first met and the same place where the two of you gradually started to hang out. It was a quiet space, free from the condescending eyes of the perfection-seeking kids you called classmates. It was a space where you and Jungkook could be free, even for just a little while. 

Sipping on his banana milk, Jungkook looks at you curiously. You were staring at the strawberry milk he had bought you, fiddling with it nervously, not even bothering to look him in the eye. He wonders what goes on through your mind, what thoughts dance around within its hollow crevices, shaking you up and causing you to become a nervous wreck. Especially when the question wasn’t as bad as you were probably thinking. 

“Hmm, do you want the honest answer or the answer everyone wants to hear?” He asks back, looking up at the ceiling. For an elite school, they didn’t do well to maintain the more hidden areas. Was that a sign that they really didn’t care about things that weren’t relevant to them? Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn’t particularly care. It was just more bearable t stare at the ceiling than sit in awkward silence, 

“Honest,” you say after a few moments, much more confident than a few moments ago. After hanging out with you for a few months and observing you within the silence of your conversations, Jungkook somehow knows that no matter what he’d do, you would forever be shy. Regardless if you knew someone well or not, the first moments of conversation would always be parallel to a first meeting. It was a curious thing, honestly. But it was more intriguing once he realized that your confidence grew the more you spoke. 

In a way, it was kind of cute. 

“I wanna make music,” Jungkook says after snapping himself out of his trance. He once again averts his gaze from yours, but this time it wasn’t to avoid silence, but rather to think, to immerse himself in his thoughts. Because this was the first time, someone had asked him what he truly wanted to do with life. The first time someone wanted an honest answer from him, not a polished response set up to please his parents and peers. 

“Not the classical kind, though,” he continues, smiling softly to himself. “Not really fond of it as much as you think.” From the corner of his eyes, Jungkook can see you gaping at him in surprise, and it causes him to chuckle. You were never really expressive beyond the weary walls of the seemingly abandoned stairwell. To the rest of the student body, you were expressionless. Someone who took all the beatings and ridicules with a blank face. As if you were a doll, waiting to be ruined. 

But here, you were much more alive. Much more expressive than Jungkook was used to seeing. It was as if the (Y/N) beyond the worn steps of the stairwell was an entirely different person. A mask you placed upon yourself to protect your heart from the cruel reality you had come to face. And Jungkook was more than fascinated at the fact that you had brought that mask down for him. 

“If I could, I’d do rock, maybe even some metal If I got enough courage,” he continues, smiling to himself unknowingly giddy at the sight of you. “There’s just something different about it, you know? The music runs through your system and gets you all hyped up; you just can’t resist it. And when the beat drops, it’s as if your emotions are on an all-time high, and it weirdly makes you kind of free. It made me realize that this was what music was supposed to be, I guess.”

“Wow,” you mutter, after staying within the silence of your initial awe. “That’s... poetic.” Jungkook laughs at the look of disbelief in his face, shooting his empty carton of banana milk in the air and watching in satisfaction as it lands straight into the empty trash can just right down the corner before turning to you, a grin high on his lips. 

“Oh, come on,” he whines, rolling his eyes playfully. “Why do you sound so surprised? Do I not look like I’d be a good musician?”

“It’s not that!” You quickly exclaim in your defense, flailing your arms in the air to avert Jungkook’s thoughts about the situation. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook was only joking, highly amused at your reactions, wanting to see more. “I just assumed you’d be more into sports, you know, since you’re so good at it? If you ask me, you kind of look like you’d do well in either football or basketball… so I just kind of assumed that was what you wanted to actually pursue. Not that wanting to pursue music is a bad thing! It’s great, it’s just that rock is kind of unexpected....” 

You were beginning to ramble at this point, the shy sheep from within you bursting forth as you fiddled with your thumbs nervously, anxious to see Jungkook’s reaction. Would he be mad at you for assuming things about him off the bat? Probably not, right? You did initiate the conversation by asking him what his dream was, after all. Wait, maybe this was your fault. Gosh, you should have just asked any other question that wasn’t as deep. 

This friendship thing was too difficult for your liking. 

As you bury yourself in your thoughts, Jungkook couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. It was small at first, almost going unheard by you who was so deeply consumed by the matters of your mind, but the more Jungkook laughed, the louder he got until he was full-on cackling, much to your dismay, confusion, and shock. 

“What’s so funny?” You ask frantically, trying to make sense of his actions. Did you say something wrong? As far as you knew, you hadn’t, but what if you had and accidentally crossed the line? You hoped not. You really didn’t want to screw any chance you had at having a real, genuine friend. But to your dismay, your questions remain unanswered as Jungkook continues to laugh, almost as if he wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. 

“Hey!” You exclaim, pouting. “Stop laughing at me, Jungkook!”

“I-i’m sorry,” He says after a few more laughs, trying to wipe the tears that were beginning to form in his eyes. “I couldn’t help it,” He laughs again, although this time, it seems as if he’s calmed down, sporting a cheeky smile. “Your reactions are just something else!”

Jungkook watches as you become flustered, once more, much to his fascination and amusement. He’s never been the teasing type, or more like, he’s never had the opportunity to become the teasing type, especially with the perfect image he had to curate in front of his peers. But he liked this. He liked being friends with you. It made him all the more free. 

“What about you?” He suddenly asks after a while, feeling that it was high time to cut you some slack. You look up at him in confusion as if you had entirely forgotten why this entire conversation had happened in the first place. “Do you have a dream?”

It’s silent, yet this time, Jungkook notes, the silence is uncanny. It’s not the same comfortable silence that Jungkook is used to whenever he was hanging out with you. It was as if the silence had suddenly crashed down and enveloped the cheery atmosphere in its deceitful arms. A trap, if you will. 

And Jungkook was unsure whether he wanted to break free from it or stay there with you. 

But you take the first step, finally looking up to meet him in the eyes, and Jungkook can feel his heart sink just a tad bit from how empty and solemn they were. “I don’t think so,” is all you say, brushing off the concerned look on Jungkook’s face with a smile. “I’ve never really given it much thought. That’s why I asked,” you chuckle halfheartedly, staring up at the ceiling. “Although I think it would be nice,” you say, smiling a bit more genuinely. “You know, to have a dream?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. How was he supposed to react to that, anyway? No matter how difficult his life was, he had always had a dream. It kept him going, made him push through no matter the difficulty. Dreams were the driving force of life. The hope amidst the darkness. To not have a dream, even just a small one, rattled Jungkook. 

It terrified him because now Jungkook realized that he knew nothing about you despite you being his first friend. He didn’t know the reason why you decided to become a living doll in the eyes of others. He didn’t understand why you subjected yourself to such suffering when, from the small talks you and Jungkook had with each other, you seemed to have a loving family. 

He wanted to help you, to be there for you. Because he wasn’t sure whether or not you were actually feeling lost. That’s what friends were for, right? Jungkook wasn’t exactly sure on how to do this whole friendship thing, but if there was one thing he did know, it was the fact that friends helped each other. 

And Jungkook would be damned if he couldn’t help you in any way that he could.

Soju bottles littered the lone table that Jungkook sat upon. At this point, he wasn’t sure how many bottles he had drunk, but it sure was many, more than he could handle if he were, to be honest, but amidst his drunken state, he just couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Why was he acting like this anyway? 

He was supposed to be happy. His band was one of the most successful ones out there. He had thousands, if not millions of fans, who supported him in everything he did. So why, just why was this insignificant matter affecting him so greatly?

Was it because it was you?

“Dear, are you alright?” The old woman, running the pub asks, concerned as she sets down a piping hot bowl of warm hangover soup, which has Jungkook’s mouth watering to the point where drool almost seeps out, mainly because he only had a bite of a sandwich on his way to the office which Eunha forcibly made him eat. But even so, he couldn’t bring himself to eat, especially with the array of emotions that were burning deep within him. “Do you need me to call someone for you?”

Jungkook stays silent, not even bothering to respond to the old lady, who only grows wearier at the lack of response. He didn’t mean to be rude. It was just that he couldn’t find the strength to actually do anything but wallow in his own misery. His thoughts were going on haywire, with no place to land in sight. 

What had he done to deserve this? He was sure he had done nothing wrong, so why were you doing this to him when all he had done was, be nothing but nice to you? He had supported you ever since the beginning, and this was how you repaid him?

He doesn’t notice how the old lady leaves to call someone from the company, despite him not saying anything. It was probably for the best anyway. He was too out of it to even ask for help. The old lady was right and kind for going out of her way to do this for him. Although it made sense, after all, this specific pub was where Jungkook had been drinking ever since he had reached adulthood. 

Maybe she would call Namjoon? It was likely, but Jungkook hoped not. He was sure that if Namjoon were to see his sorry state, he would scold him until his ears bled out. Although he couldn’t really blame Namjoon, if any manager were to see their client drinking away their woes like he was, they would probably freak out. Primarily since he was known for drinking at most two bottles. Jungkook just really didn’t want to deal with Namjoon right now, especially after what had transpired earlier. 

He hoped that she would call Eunha. Sweet, loveable Eunha, who was there for him when the shitshow that was his breakup with you went down. Even until now, Jungkook was still in the dark of why you had left him and the band, but Eunha was the one who stayed by his side. Ever since he had met her two years ago when she first entered the company, they had become the best of friends. And now she was his girlfriend, and he couldn’t be happier. 

All of a sudden, a familiar voice wafts through the empty pub. One that has Jungkook’s head whipping everywhere it could to figure out where it was coming from. It was sweet, melodic even. But at the same time, it had a hint of melancholy and freedom? Why was the voice so familiar? Where had he heard it before? 

Jungkook’s eyes darted around, trying to see if he could spot the culprit behind his dilemma until they finally landed on the wide TV that sat in the middle of the pub, presumably for their customer’s enjoyment. And lo and behold, in his eyes, he sees you. 

It was a local music show where famous stars would often find themselves performing to promote their new music. He assumed you were there to perform your new single, the one song that had him sitting here broken and destroyed with pride in your chest. Did you enjoy this?

Did you enjoy knowing that he was broken because of you?

He hated it. He hated how bright your smile was the moment he caught sight of the camera focusing on you as the hosts began their interview. You were brilliant, cheery, happy. And it sickened Jungkook to the core. Why did it seem like you were doing fine when he was here all bothered? How selfish could you possibly be? 

But as much as it hurts him, he can’t find it in himself to look away. It’s a strange sensation that Jungkook couldn’t quite explain. Why couldn’t he avert his eyes from you when all he’s been feeling today was pain? It didn’t make sense. But honestly, Jungkook couldn’t tell what made sense anymore. 

He watches you sing, hearing those blasted lyrics that made him rage just mere moments ago. Yet, this time, the lyrics made his heart clench. Perhaps it was the fact that your performance seemed more genuine because you were singing live. But why? Why were you singing those lyrics as if they had genuinely happened to you? Jungkook never caused you any pain, so why did it seem as if you were hurting more than him? 

The thoughts were too much. It was driving Jungkook crazy, and all he wanted to do was drown in them. He didn’t want to think. Thinking heightened the pain that brimmed deep within his chest. He just wanted to float in the ocean of his misery and stay there, hoping that someday he would land ashore and the pain would come to an end. 

Maybe if he took one more shot, it would help? 

He pours down the last remaining soju into his shot glass, not caring if it overflowed and spilled out on the table. Rationality was far out of his mind at this point. All Jungkook wanted to do was do anything that would make him feel numb. 

He raises the glass shakily, ready to feel the burning sensation of the alcohol run down his throat, that temporary relief that made him sink deep down into this endless cycle of emptiness. Yet, it doesn’t happen. 

A hand shoots down to stop his wrist. It’s a familiar yet unfamiliar hold, something Jungkook can’t quite place. Where has he felt this hold before? He looks up, his eyesight a bit blurry from his drunken state, so he squints, trying to see clearly. 

Who was it? Namjoon? Eunha? Heck, Jaehyun?

Turns out it was none of them. 

When his sight finally clears, he gasps in shock, breath hitching in his throat as he takes it all in. Because the person, whose hold was familiar yet unfamiliar at the same time, wasn’t his manager, nor was it his girlfriend or best friend. 

It was you. 

The person, the old lady, had called to get him was you. 

Well, Jungkook be damned. 

When you got the call from the old lady, you were on your way to your new studio after finishing up a schedule you had prior. The past few weeks have been busy for you. Leaving the band and Jungkook was no easy feat. It was a decision that you knew was a high-risk, high reward yet at the same time had higher chances of failure. 

After all, even if you hated to admit it. Without the band, you had nothing. 

Sure, there was the fame that came with all of the band’s success. You were the vocalist, after all. It was exhilarating knowing that millions out there would be listening to your voice, singing music you created with people you loved dearly. But in the midst of all of that, there was nothing. 

Jungkook, Jaehyun, and Yugyeom had everything going on for them. A backup plan in case the band didn’t succeed. A plan B, if you will. It made sense. They had privilege dripping from the palms of their hand, after all. Even if they had their own troubles and doubts, they didn’t have to worry about finding another way out because there already was a path laid out for them in the beginning. 

You went into all of this, risking everything. 

It was a choice that you had seemingly made on impulse if an outsider were to look back at the situation. When Jungkook had asked you to start a band with him, it was during another one of your many lunch dates, as you two had jokingly called it. Only this time, the two of you weren’t sitting on the cold and empty stairwell, but instead, you were in the old music room. 

“I can’t believe this,” Jungkook mumbles to himself as he cranks the rusted door of the old music room open. People barely used it nowadays, much to his disbelief yet relief at the same time. He couldn’t blame them though, the brand new music room was much more enchanting, filled with top-of-the-grade musical instruments than anyone would drool over. 

Well, at least it meant that he could have autonomy over the room (even though that wasn’t really the case). “You’re telling me that you never heard rock or metal before?” He gapes in disbelief as he sits on one of the dusty desks, looking at you with an outraged expression. You sheepishly enter behind him, taking a sip of your drink as you took a seat beside him. 

“You never asked,” is all you say, shrugging. Jungkook looks at you once more incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes and ears. “That’s because I assumed you would have known what rock and metal are! They’re like the greatest music genres of all time. How can you not know it?”

You shrug once more, not really having an answer. Well, you did, but it was probably stupid. After all, if this was his reaction to you not knowing about rock and metal. What would his response be if he were to find out that the only music you’d ever listened to was classical and nursery rhymes? Yeah, probably not a good idea. 

“Well, get ready then,” he exclaims, bringing out his phone, much to your surprise. Model student and Mr. Perfect Jeon Jungkook breaking a school rule? Who would have thought that you’d ever lived to see the day? “Because you’re about to experience an awakening, I tell you. A revolution!”

It’s amusing, really. You had never seen Jungkook as passionate as he was at the moment. Was this what it was like to have a dream? His eyes lit up as if sparkles were floating around him. As if he were about to step on cloud nine and enter paradise. He was bouncing his leg lightly in excitement, a goofy smile on his face that kind of reminded you of a bunny. 

Maybe having a dream wouldn’t be so bad, after all. 

He immediately scoots over to you once he has his phone ready, grabbing his earphones and plugging it into his phone, handing you the other ear. You hold it, a small smile on your face, and hook it unto your ear, not really knowing what to expect but excited all the same. After all, this was the music that made your best friend passionate and hopeful for the future. For sure, it wouldn’t be bad, right? 

Well, to say the least, it was an experience. An experience you couldn’t quite tell if you enjoyed or couldn’t fathom. It was entirely different from the music that you were used to. From the bright and soothing tones came ones that were heavy and thundered on your ears. Yet, in a way, it was exhilarating. 

You could see why Jungkook was attracted to this style of music. In a way, it was unhinged, a little more rebellious than the traditional types of music you were used to. But that didn’t mean it was worse. In fact, that’s what made it more exciting. Jungkook was right. In those few minutes that he had introduced you to the world of rock, you’ve gone through an array of emotions, from confusion to thrill and excitement of the highest level. The rollercoaster of new sensations was, to say the least, intoxicating, 

Because immediately you got hooked. 

“Wow,” you mutter, looking up at Jungkook, who was looking back at you with lively eyes. “That was… something else.” 

“Right?!” He exclaims, immediately jumping off the desk to grasp your hands in excitement; it was endearing to see. Jungkook rarely got riled up like this. Music truly brought out the best in him, you thought to yourself, watching as he continued to dangle your hands in his. “Isn’t rock just amazing? Oh, what I’d do to pick up an electric guitar and play,” He sighs, and you can tell from the far-away look on his face that he’s daydreaming about something and the sight warms your heart. 

“You should,” is all you say, startling Jungkook out of his trance. “I think you’d do absolutely great in music, Jungkook! You should go for it.” Jungkook looks at you, stunned. He blinks, trying to process what you had just said, before clasping your fingers a bit tighter, unsure of himself. 

“Really?” He mutters softly, “You really think I can do it?”

“Of course,” you encourage with a bright smile. “If it’s you, then you can do anything!”

It’s silent for a moment, with Jungkook deep in thought. But you don’t necessarily mind, as more than anything, you understood the weight of your words. Being Jungkook’s friend meant that you stuck by him through a lot of undesirable moments, moments that both of you promised to never speak of unless it was absolutely necessary. 

You knew how much he longed for his dreams. Ever since that rather inspiring conversation you had around a week ago, you knew just how much Jungkook bottled up his true passions and desires, even though there were moments wherein he would freely let them out. 

“Then you have to be there with me,” he says, eyes filled with determination. “I don’t think I can do this without you (Y/N).”

Looking back at it, you chuckle at how swooned you were with Jungkook’s words. It was crazy to think that he had swept you off your feet with a mere ten words that ultimately decided the course of a good chunk of your life. You let him, and for that, you were to blame, But that didn’t necessarily mean that you regretted your decision in its entirety. 

Suddenly, your phone rings from beside you, and you grab it from where it lay in your purse, only to see an old number that you hadn’t seen in a while. It’s been a year, you think, as you accept the call, pressing your phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“(Y/N) dear! It’s been such a long time!” You smile at the cheery sound present within the old lady’s voice, although you can’t deny that you hear a twinge of worry within it. You used to go to her pub every so often back when you were still in the band. And the old lady had been such a sweet soul, acting as some sort of parental figure to you and your bandmates through the years. 

“It’s good to hear from you again,” you mutter, pleasantly surprised at her sudden call but also a bit suspicious because you had no idea what she was calling for. “May I ask why you’re calling me?”

“Ah!” The old lady exclaims, and suddenly the initial chirp present within her fades into a frantic tone that has your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, not sure what to expect. “Do you mind picking up your boyfriend?”

You blink, confused and startled. “I’m sorry,” you say, still not processing it clearly. “What was that?”

You hear a sigh from the other side of the phone. It sounds tiring, exasperated even, Which shouldn’t be the case since the pub usually opens up later at night. It was only open during the day for company employees. And what sane person would cause trouble with this much sunlight out? 

“Your boyfriend dear,” the old lady continues, sounding absolutely done, yet at the same time, the concern was still there, and you swear you hear the sound of glass falling in the back, causing your eyebrows to furrow in worry. “He’s been drinking for hours, and this is more than he’s ever drunk!”

You stay silent, letting it all sink in. The only person she could have possibly been referring to was Jungkook. There was no doubt about that. After all, the old lady’s pub was where you and Jungkook would often find yourselves having late-night rendezvous, drinking the night away as you bonded over whatever life was throwing at you within those moments. 

But now, the pub gave you nothing but pain. 

“Grandma, I’m sorry to tell you this, but me and Jungkook aren’t—”

“—So you’ll come, yes? Thank you, dear! Truly a lifesaver!” 

She hangs up. You stare at your phone in disbelief, shocked at the predicament you had unknowingly gotten yourself into. What were you supposed to do now? The responsible thing to do was to probably phone Namjoon and tell him about the situation. But with what had just transpired earlier today with the release of your single last night and your performance this morning, you’re not so sure he would appreciate any sort of contact from you. 

With a sigh, you turn to head towards the pub. No matter how much you hated Jungkook for the way he treated you within the last few stages of your relationship, you couldn’t leave him alone to wallow in his misery (even though there was a part of you that was secretly glad that he was torn because of you). It would be too cruel of you. Especially considering that Jungkook had been a significant part of your life. 

Huh, guess you haven’t moved on as much as you thought you had. 

Even just reaching the pub brought back memories that you wish wouldn’t resurface. You and Jungkook used to wrestle over who would open the door for the other, and more often than not, Jungkook won. But you weren’t one to lose quickly, even to him. 

The familiar jingle that came with opening the door brought a pang of nostalgia to your heart. When you and Jungkook would enter the pub, just ten seconds after the jingle faded away, the old lady would come out of her quaint kitchen and say

“Welcome home— Oh, there you are, dear!”

Not exactly how you remembered it, but it was still familiar all the same. 

“Hello grandma, how are you?” You greet with a solemn smile, watching with fond eyes as the old lady comes up to clasp your hands within her own. “Oh dear, I haven’t seen you in forever. Why haven’t you visited in so long?” 

You’re not sure what to say. How are you supposed to tell her that you left and broke up with the man she asked you to pick up? That would put her in an awkward position, and you didn’t want to cause stress for the already weary lady. 

“Oh, never mind that,” she says, luckily dropping the subject. “Come in, come in, your boyfriend’s over there drinking in the corner. Did something happen? I’ve honestly never seen him drink this much before. At this rate, he’s going to finish my soju supply before I open up for the night!” 

You enter the main area, and immediately you’re hit with the familiar, comforting scent of alcohol and home-cooked meals, as odd as it sounds. Although the smell of alcohol was by far heavier in the air, and as you turn to look for the source, your eyes land in Jungkook.

And you’re, for lack of a better word, shocked.

It was almost as if he was drowning in an ocean of soju bottles, with some of the alcohol dripping off the table and into the ground or his clothes. Partly because he was pouring himself another shot, which you know he can’t take.

He could barely handle two bottles when the two of you were dating, so why did it feel like he was drinking more than ten. If he wasn’t stopped now, something majorly damaging could happen to him, and as much as you never wanted to speak to him, you couldn’t just ignore him when he was literally on the brink of life and death.

You stomp on over to where he’s at, hastily quickening your steps as he’s about to down his last shot, and before you can even think about what to do, your instincts act on their own, and your hand reaches out to him, stopping him.

No words are spoken. Rather, you can’t find the words to say as you watch with solemn eyes as Jungkook looks at his hand confused. He tries to shake it, to move his arm so he can bring the shot glass to his lips, but you remain firm in your grip, clasping just a bit harder so he wouldn’t push through with the shot. 

He looks around, following the trail left by your grasp until he meets your eyes, and already you can feel the whirlwind of emotions bubbling up inside you. This was the first time you and Jungkook have met after the breakup after leaving the band. You never expected the two of you to meet this way. Although, you supposed life was funny like that. It liked to throw unexpected situations in your face, especially in the most inappropriate times.

You watch as he squints, trying to make sense of who you were before he gasps, arm slacking, falling into the side as the alcohol from the shot glass splatters into the air. He squints once more as if trying to ensure that what he was seeing in front of him was real before stammering. 

“(Y/N)?” He whispers, broken, voice breaking. You try not to let your emotions show, knowing that if you do, he’d only lure you back into him, which was something you did not want at all. You were done. After many months, heck years of being torn apart by him, you couldn’t afford any more pain. It would break you even more than it already did, 

“Hey,” you whisper back, breath hitching as you watch the way Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sound of your voice, loud and clear for him to hear. Even with his drunken state, he can’t deny the pang of nostalgia that runs through his veins once he finally registers that it’s you standing before him. In the flesh. Not a vision on TV or a picture of you from his memories. 

It was you. 

“What are you doing here?” He slurs, trying to reach out to you, but you move away, refusing him any form of affection. Because you two were too far gone for that. 

“Grandma called,” is all you say, the disappointed look in Jungkook’s eyes not going unnoticed. “Asked me to pick you up. Said you’ve been drinking more than you used to and… I can see that.”

You gesture to the empty soju bottles that littered the table with a grimace, turning back to Jungkook only to hear him scoff and point a finger to you accusingly, although with his drunken state, his posture was way off. “Who do you think’s to blame?” He asks, sarcasm laced within his tone. You raise an eyebrow at that, choosing to let him continue before you could offer back any sarcastic remark of your own. 

“It’s you!” He continues, slamming his fist to the table, much to your surprise. “You and your stupid fucking song…. I mean, what the fuck is up that?”

“What the fuck is up with what, Jungkook?” You quip back, eyeing his fist cautiously in the case he would do something dangerous that would either injure him, you, or if worse comes to worst, both. 

“Don’t play dumb with me,” He continues, and Jungkook can feel the irritation, frustration, and fatigue build within him now that he’s finally gotten a chance to let all these raging emotions out. “You know what you did! Why’d you do it, huh?” His voice grows louder, causing you to flinch as you move your chair back just a bit. 

“Why’d you have to ruin my fucking reputation?” 

All of a sudden, it’s like something in you snaps. 

You can’t believe it. You can’t believe the audacity Jungkook had to say something as outrageous and stupid as what he just said. The emotions that were already burning up within you finally exploded as you stared at him with all the anger and disbelief you could muster. 

And here you thought he was drinking because he had finally realized all the wrongs he had done to you. What a fool you were. 

“Excuse me?” You say, exasperated. “What did you just fucking say?”

“I said what I said (Y/N),” Jungkook continued, not noticing the way rage was about to take you into its waiting arms, only to allow you to explode upon him with all the pent-up hurt that you’ve accumulated inside you. “You and your fucking song ruined the band any my reputation. Is this how you repay me after everything I’ve done for you?”

You blink. The words slowly make their way towards you as you try to process them, letting out a chuckle at how ridiculous his words were. “Are you being serious right now?” You say, scoffing at how there wasn’t an inch of regret on Jungkook’s face. “You’ve got to be joking, right?”

You want to give him the benefit of the doubt. You want to give him a chance to prove your ears, mind, and heart wrong. That he wasn’t actually thinking those absurd thoughts that had your gut-wrenching and your heartbreaking after already being broken. This couldn’t be the Jungkook that you knew, right? He wouldn’t be this cruel, right? 

“Do I look like I’m joking?” 

“You piece of shit.” You spat without even realizing it, surprising Jungkook. He’s sobered up just a little from your outburst, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, you regret speaking without any thought. But the more you try to rationalize it, the more the anger burns. This was unacceptable. 

“Reputation?” You scoff, looking at him incredulously. “You’re fucking worried about your reputation when there are bigger issues to be addressed here?” 

“(Y/N) I—”

“Shut up, Jungkook,” you say, cutting him off coldly. “You don’t get a say in this when all you’re worried about is your reputation over a broken relationship with someone you’ve grown up with for the past thirteen years!” 

Wide-eyed, Jungkook gapes at you, and you, in your disgruntled state, take this chance to get back at him, unleashing all the feelings you’ve buried deep inside you. 

“You dare ask me why I’m treating you this way when you’ve been nothing but nice to me?” You mock, his words hurting more than they should. “Do you even bother to ask yourself as to why I broke up with you in the first place, Jungkook? Why I left? Did you even bother to listen to my song?” 

His silence echoes throughout the pub, further shattering any lingering hope that you had about the situation. “No,” he says after a while, firm in his belief as he stared back at you, although his gaze seemed as if it could easily water away. “Didn’t think it was necessary; after all I did nothing wro—”

“—You treated me like shit for the last two years of our relationship, Jungkook. That’s what you did wrong.” You exclaim, not wanting to hear his excuses. “Are you really this blind to not know? To not see your own faults?”

How could he? You think to yourself, the unbearable pain of this revelation thrumming through every fibre of your being. It was painful. Painful to hear that he hadn’t even thought about the situation through your lens. He was too absorbed with what he had going for himself that he failed to see the world through your eyes, and it frustrated you to no end.

Because that breakup broke you like no other. 

Choosing to leave wasn’t an easy decision, by no means. You had risked everything to help support Jungkook in hopes that you would find a dream of your own. You joined the band, knowing that you would put your family’s safety and security at risk instead of pursuing a more stable career like starting a business or becoming a doctor.

You became selfish to follow Jungkook, so of course, you were attached. 

Jungkook, in a sense, was your world. You suppose, looking back at it now, that wasn’t the healthiest decision you took for yourself. But at that time, you could not help yourself. He was your first friend, your first love, your first everything. Jungkook showed you the ways of the world and then shattered it without a care. Of course, more than any other breakup, it would tear you apart.

Because to be honest, loving Jungkook made you happy. You remember when he first asked you out. Probably one of the best moments of your entire life. It happened after your band’s first major gig to open up the local summer festival. The two of you were still calming down from the high of the performance, excited, thrilled to have finally been given the opportunity in front of a bigger crowd. It felt surreal seeing the fascinated faces and happy smiles as they listen to your music.

Jungkook was right. This feeling was incredible.

“Holy shit. That was amazing,” Jaehyun laughs, hugging Yugyeom before turning to hug you and Jungkook. “I can’t believe we just did that!” 

“Do you think they liked us?” Yugyeom, ever the timid one asks. “I felt like I made a mistake somewhere along the second cho—“

“—Who cares, man?” Jungkook says, cutting Yugyeom off with a playful slap to the back. “We just fucking performed our first major gig. This isn’t time to be wallowing down on our mistakes. This is a time to celebrate!” 

You and Jaehyun hollered in agreement, following Jungkook as he dragged Yugyeom backstage where the four of you packed up, took a few commemorative pictures, and made your way towards the nearest convenience store to celebrate the night with some good old ramen, ice cream, and whatever your hearts desired.

It was a fun night, one filled with laughter as the four of you joked about whatever your mind could think of. Jungkook boasted about how he was right about their band getting somewhere, of how Jaehyun and Yugyeom, who were much more hesitant in joining the band, and after months of no progress, we’re beginning to regret it, had nothing to worry about. 

Jaehyun and Yugyeom even mustered up the courage to do a speed eating challenge, grabbing about her round of hot piping ramen and racing to see who could eat it the fastest, despite the heat burning their tongues both literally and figuratively.

It was a night where for once, the four of you didn’t have to worry about life outside of the band. Didn’t have to worry about the social pressure from school or home, Didn’t have to worry about stupid tests or becoming the best, for once the four of you could just be yourselves. Unapologetic and free.

When Jaehyun and Yugyeom decided to pack it up and head home, saying that if they didn’t arrive before their dreaded curfew, then their parents would literally send them to the pits of hell, you didn’t notice the way Jungkook grew silent. Maybe you did, but you were too preoccupied with the nauseated looks on Jaehyun and Yugyeom’s faces as they headed towards the public restroom to flush out the ramen in their system. 

“Hey (Y/N)?” Jungkook asks once Jaehyun and Yugyeom are nowhere to be seen. You hum in response, turning to look back at him, and immediately your eyes become overwhelmed with worry at the serious look on his face as he gazes up at the night sky, seemingly nervous and scared.

“Will you go out with me?”

It’s unexpected, a bomb to your heart if you could call it. You gasp the moment the words flow out of his mouth, staring at Jungkook in shock. Did he really just ask you out? 

You think it’s a joke. A cruel trick of nature. But by the way, Jungkook nervously fidgets from where he sits, and his eyes nervously dart around. Like they usually do during nerve-wracking situations like these, you knew in your heart that his words were true.

And you couldn’t be more overjoyed because you had fallen for Jeon Jungkook too. 

Throughout your many years of friendship, you had gotten to know Jungkook inside out. You were there when he threw a mini tantrum over missing first place in the final exam by one point, knowing that his parents would be disappointed in him. You were there when the two of you went out to buy his first-ever electric guitar after months of saving up money secretly. You were there for him when he was convincing Jaehyun and Yugyeom to join the band, even when he was about to get into a fight with Jaehyun over the matter.

And like clockwork, you had fallen.

It wasn’t particularly hard to do so. Jungkook had this certain charm to him, after all. He was an enigma. He could draw people into his rhythm like it was nothing and have them follow to the beat of his own drum. Sometimes you wondered if there was a hidden secret with the way he could so easily attract people, but the more you hung out, the more you realized that wasn’t the case at all. He was genuine in everything he did.

“Yes,” you say without hesitation, causing Jungkook to whip his head to face you in the blink of an eye, mouth slacking in shock. He blinks, you smile, and suddenly a smile of his own is forming on his face, reaching all the way into his eyes. 

“For real?” He whispers, not wanting this moment to slip away from his grasp. He was so close to having you in his arms, something he’s wanted for the longest time, that he was afraid that if he spoke any louder, he would ruin any chance he got. But your reassuring gaze and gentle hold immediately calm the raging wave of anxiety within him. “For real,” you affirm, and suddenly you’re in Jungkook’s embrace. 

It’s a warm embrace, one that has you returning it back with the same vigor, the same excitement bubbling in your chest. This marked the beginning of a new chapter for you and Jungkook, one where the two of you would walk down the unclear path you have chosen, still remaining by each other’s side, but this time, with hands intertwined.

You just wished it didn’t go up into flames like this.

You blink, snapping out of your trance as you gaze at Jungkook. Once more, seeing the way his lips were pursed into a thin line, his brows furrowed as if he had a lot going on through his mind. Which was only fitting. He had to, or else this wave of hurt and pain would only intensify and turn into something you would never be able to control. 

Remembering the happy moments was something you had promised yourself not to do, for it only brought you into another world of pain after looking at how the two of you were faring now. But in the midst of agony staring right at you, you couldn’t help but let yourself reminisce in hopes of relieving some of that anger and hurt so you wouldn’t do anything out of hand. 

“Tell me, Jungkook,” you finally say after a moment of silence, and you want to curse yourself for the way your voice cracks at the end. You had to be strong. You had to get through this. Because there was no way, you were going to let Jungkook ruin you once more. “How do you think our relationship was going within the last two years?”

Silence befalls the room for what feels like the millionth time, But this one is heavier than the last. Jungkook looks at you with such a severe gaze that you almost falter, forgetting the fact that he’s drunk with the way his eyes bore into yours. 

You dread his answer, not knowing what to expect. With the way, he was acting, and with all the things he’s said and done, you knew that his words would only hurt you even more from here on out. You clutch the fanfic of your sweater tightly, hanging on by a thread. 

But he says nothing.

The heavy silence lasts longer, and the more it persists, the more disappointment and disbelief creep into the cracked crevices of your already broken heart. Was he really going to act this way? Saying nothing at all? Did your relationship mean nothing to him in the past 2 years? 

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, letting out a scoff as your eyes scan his figure. He’s hunched up as if unsure of what to do, what to think, or what to say. There’s probably a flurry of emotions running through his mind, but you don’t pity him. You hope it continues to weigh heavy, as it did to you for the last three years. 

“I was miserable, Jungkook,” you whisper, recounting the memories you had buried deep within, afraid to open them up again at the cost of your already fragile happiness. But to be truly happy, one needs to let go of all the agony locked within. “Ever since Eunha came into our lives, you started treating me like a side character, as if I wasn’t your girlfriend.”

“And no,” you say sternly, already knowing what Jungkook was to say by the way his eyes widened and his mouth slacked, an arm up in protest for your words. “I’m not blaming Eunha entirely, contrary to what you may think. Sure, her arrival started it all. Sure, there were times where she acted so out of line that I wanted to slap her in the face n’s remind her who exactly she was talking to. But I couldn’t. Do you know why, Jungkook?” 

His eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you take a deep breath as you gather your thoughts. This was the first time you were finally going to let out all of your frustrations that’s been building up inside you for the past few years. It was a nerve-wracking feat, but a necessary one nonetheless, as even in those few moments of speaking, you were starting to feel just a bit more free. 

“Because I didn’t even know who I was anymore.”

Jungkook’s never been this confused in his life. 

It’s as if you had dropped a bomb on him without warning, causing him to be in a frenzy. What did you mean? How could you blame Eunha? Eunha was a sweet girl who could do no wrong. She was there for him whenever he needed that extra support, whenever he needed someone to ground him in this cruel, unforgiving world. 

She was there when you weren’t and was a constant in his life. How could such a sweet girl like her be the catalyst of this catastrophic situation? It had to be a joke.

“You’re lying,” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. The pain in his heart was coming back again, and just when he thought he had finally gotten rid of that after drowning in alcohol moments ago. This was your fault. You and your stupid song, your stupid lies. You were driving me crazy.

“I’m lying?” You ask, and Jungkook looks up to meet your eyes, feeling another burst of pain shoot through him at the agonizing expression on your face. Why did you look so hurt? He did nothing wrong. He didn’t hurt you. He couldn’t have. He had always been there for you. He was the reason you could do what you could in the first place. There was just no way that misery was because of him.

“Jungkook, did you even realize that with how much time you were spending with Eunha, you weren’t spending time with me anymore? Remember how you used to walk me home at midnight after your time at the studio and my radio show? You stopped doing that ever since she appeared.”

Lies.

“For days, I stood outside the company for hours, waiting for you to bring me home because you promised that you’d never miss it for the world. And on the day that I finally decided to check up on you, worried that you might have been overworking yourself? I see you in the studio, laughing with Eunha.”

 Jungkook wanted to scream. He was stressed. He had to make music. Why couldn’t you understand that? 

“And when I confronted you about it? You shrugged me off, saying I was overly dramatic.”

You are. Jungkook insists in his head, thoughts spiraling. What’s wrong with him not bringing you home. Even if he was your boyfriend, he was not obligated to, right? You were supposed to understand him, right? That’s what lovers are supposed to do.

“I thought to myself, maybe you were right. Maybe I was overdramatic, so I did what you asked and shrugged me off. Yet, with each passing day, it felt like I was a stranger in your eyes. Do you even realize Jungkook that ever since Eunha came into our lives, we’ve only been on three dates?” 

You’re too demanding, his mind screams. Three dates? That was plenty for successful stars of your caliber. You had to understand that being under the limelight meant that he couldn’t reserve all the time in the world for you. 

His heart clenches painfully again, and Jungkook feels a sob hitch in his throat. 

“It hurt.” You cry, letting out the words that Jungkook wanted to say. “It hurt so much watching the love of my life and my best friend toss me to the side. Where was the you that promised that you’d always be there for me? Where was the you that promised to stay?” 

You’re crying now, tears streaming down your face as the words you’ve kept hidden for the longest time finally make their way out of your system. Every part of you was screaming in agony and pain, and you can feel the mended parts of your patched-up heart slowly break again. 

“Jungkook, I loved you. I loved you so much that I risked it all for you. I joined the band even though I wasn’t sure of our future because I saw how happy you were. You showed me what happiness could be, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that, but at the same time, you showed me firsthand real pain and heartbreak. And I don’t think I can ever forgive you for doing that.” 

No. Why? You had to forgive him. You were his best friend. Stop. Stop speaking. Stop it. 

“I left because I wanted to keep what we still had within our memories.” You whisper, remembering the night you finally came to your decision. Remembering all the times you cried and broke down, not knowing what to do or where you should go. All the times where you forced yourself to put on a smile on your face and act as if everything was fine even though it wasn’t. 

“And I hoped that in leaving, we could pick up all the broken pieces and create something new with them. Maybe it would not have been a relationship as strong as the one we’ve had before. But at least it was something. And at least I would have still had a connection to you.”

You’re calm now, in a much better headspace than before. But that didn’t mean the ocean of despair that you surrounded yourself in dwindled in the slightest. It was still there, waiting in silence for the moment it could envelop you once more into its treacherous arms and drown you in its suffocating whispers. 

“But what the fuck is this?” 

You can feel the tides begin to sway, and you will yourself desperately to keep them down. With how the situation was unfolding, you needed to be the bigger person. For your sanity, For Jungkook’s, and for the closure that you both needed, which you weren’t sure would ever peacefully come to an end. 

“I never thought that you’d think of us like this Jungkook,” you whisper, and much to your horror, a tear slipped from the crevices of eyes as you hurriedly wiped them, standing up to grab your purse as you stood to leave the pub, not caring one bit if Jungkook got home safely or not, you were too overwhelmed to care. 

“I thought you loved me,” You whisper as you turn to look at him one final time, and all of a sudden, Jungkook is hit with wave after wave of sadness, anger, pain, frustration radiating from you. It suffocates him, and the only thought running through his head were questions of him hurting you? Was this really all his fault? 

“But I guess you only loved yourself.” A chuckle falls from your lips as you make your first step out of the door. Not paying mind to the old lady who looks at you with a worried gaze, you turn to open the door of the pub, only for someone else to beat you to it. 

Lo and Behold, It’s Eunha. 

“You,” She gasps as she takes in your disheveled and exhausted state. Although that immediate shock quickly disappears as she catches Jungkook’s equally petrified state from the corner of her eye. She then glares at you, but you honestly can’t find the energy within you to care.

Because this was never about her in the first place, even if in some way she plays a small part. 

“What did you do?” Eunha spats as she rushes past you to go to Jungkook, not even bothering to hear you out. You sigh, gathering the last remaining buts of courage within clenched fists, and make your way out of the door, leaving Jungkook, your broken heart, and the memories you two shared behind for good. 

Not caring what he would do with those fragments in the end. 

“Jungkook!”

Eunha exclaims, immediately hooking her arms around him and hoisting him up into an embrace. “What happened? What did that bitch do?” But Jungkook doesn’t answer, thoroughly overwhelmed by the range of emotions that had just surpassed him from his conversation with you. 

Was it truly his fault? Was he the reason why things had turned out this way? There was no way right. He had treated you right, right? 

Jungkook tries to convince himself that he’s done nothing wrong, that he was perfectly innocent in this situation. But that nagging feeling deep within his mind and soul screams at him to finally realize the truth. He’s scared. He doesn’t want to know what lies beyond the bubble of happiness he had placed himself in. He doesn’t want to feel the agonizing pain he’s put himself through without realizing it. 

But not doing so would kill him more than knowing the truth ever will. 

So he opens the door to the truth and wallows in the misery of what he’s done. 

To be fair, there was some truth to Jungkook’s words. He had treated you like you were the most precious thing in the universe. And that was because, for the longest time, Jungkook did consider you highly special to him. You were his first friend, the first person he could confide his feelings in, the first person who showed him what love could be like. 

You grew up together, cried together, had your first drink together, stood on stage for the first time together. You had done just about everything together, and Jungkook cherished you more than anything in the world. 

In everything he did, he always tried to make you a part of it. Whether that meant buying your favorite drink or sending you pictures of whatever he was doing, Jungkook always wanted to help you see the world through his eyes because you deserved that much. 

Ice cream dates, sneaking out at night to have some chicken and beer, random dates at the local arcade, a stroll at the beach. You and Jungkook had practically done it all. So, where did it all fall apart? Where did Jungkook go wrong?

“Jungkook?” Eunha calls out, and Jungkook finally musters up the courage to look at Eunha, who was worriedly trying to get him to answer her. Her hold is familiar, something he’s been used to in the past two years, yet at the same time, something was missing within her warmth. An unexplainable feeling he couldn’t quite describe.

And then he realized it wasn’t you. 

Just when did he go astray? When did he start treating you like you weren’t the world to him? For sure, it wasn’t a singular moment. It was most definitely a culmination of many events that led up to his demise. But just how did it happen? 

He looks at Eunha’s worried eyes, those same eyes that he thought meant the world to him within those two years of your break up. Yet, for some reason, he just couldn’t look at them in the same way anymore. Not when there was this hollow emptiness in his heart that called out for you and only you, 

It was like a game of tug and war in his heart. He still loved Eunha; that much was for sure. But he couldn’t deny the love that he had for you as well. He remembered how Eunha was like a breath of fresh air for him. In the midst of all your nagging for him to take care of himself when he was working his ass off making new songs and dealing with management, Eunha was there to simply smile and encourage Jungkook. 

Like a fool, he got lured into Eunha’s charm and held onto it, not noticing that he was letting go of you in the process. 

His heart wails. It cries in pain and desperation of the love it has lost. Why did it have to be this way? Why was Jungkook such a fool? So consumed by his own selfishness, he abandoned the love you two shared and sought another, and now he was reaping what he had sown. 

You were gone. You would never come back. Whatever love you had between the two of you had left and died out. The world was cruel. It had given Jungkook so much hope yet took it away from him the moment he slipped up. Yet, he couldn’t really blame them. He couldn’t really blame you. 

Because he knew you had tried, he could see it in the way your eyes still cried out in pain when you see him. He could hear it in the agony of your voice as you sang passionately in your songs. He knew you did your best to pick up the fallen pieces and try to mend them back together. But all Jungkook did was rip them apart all over again. 

Life couldn’t have been any better for Jeon Jungkook until suddenly it was not. 

And he was the only one to blame. 

© yumeyooa 2021. All rights reserved. Copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform aside from a03 and tumblr or by any means is NOT permitted and will be dealt with accordingly.

➢ taglist: @wearenot7withu @nadiaislas @bbydoejk​ 

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[daddyjackfrost]

i wanted a kenma fic so i wrote one.

hehe

prompt 4: “Go home.” 

kenma x f!reader (hurt/comfort) (soft kinda)

You took off your shoes, quietly making your way up the stairs. You had texted Kenma almost four times over the last two hours, telling him you were coming over. 

It was Wednesday, which meant that it was supposed to be Kenma’s day off, though when you received a notification from his twitch, you knew that he was streaming. 

You climbed the stairs, a small smile on your face. You were holding a paper bag from your and Kenma’s favourite bakery. You hadn’t seen Kenma in a few days, and all you wanted to do was lay in his arms as you ate some apple pie, even though you didn’t love it like he did. 

You knocked on Kenma’s door twice, and when you didn’t hear anything besides his quiet mumbles to the screen, you spoke. 

“’Zume? I’m coming in.” 

You pushed the door open and your eyes fell on Kenma’s hunched figure, his fingers pressing keys rapidly. You knew that Kenma hadn’t realized you were here, so you just quietly laughed and put the pie down on his side table.

You stretched your arms and let out a small groan, this caught Kenma’s attention. 

Quickly, Kenma turned his head to find you standing in the middle of his room, your eyes met his confused ones, and you smiled at him.

You heard voices on the other side of Kenma’s screen and your eyes zeroed in on the chat that began to flood. 

“Hey, babe,” you greeted him.

Kenma just turned around, his hands going back to his keyboard. Your smile tugged down but you didn’t let his lack of reaction get to you. When Kenma was streaming or playing, everything else was below it. 

Sometimes even you. 

You plopped down on his bed, your phone in your hands. Now that Kenma knew you were here, maybe he’d end his stream early. You almost laughed, yeah right. 

You scrolled through your phone for almost an hour when your body began to ache. You weren’t in the most comfortable position, and you wanted to cuddle your boyfriend.

Quietly, you got up off the bed and lightly tapped Kenma’s shoulder.

“What y/n?”

You paused, retracting your hand. You rubbed your arm as you stood behind Kenma. “Oh, uh, I just wanted to sit on your lap.”

Kenma muted his mic and turned his chair to look up at you. You stared down at him, your eyes meeting his golden ones. His hair was up in a bun and he looked absolutely breathtaking. 

“Why are you here, y/n? I didn’t say you could come over.” 

You licked your lips, your eyes slightly widening. “I texted you, but you didn’t respond.”

Kenma scoffed. “Well obviously I didn’t answer you for a reason.” 

You frowned and tilted your head to the side, put off because of Kenma’s sudden harsh behaviour. Kenma had never denied you like this before. In fact, he always encouraged you to sit on his lap while he gamed. He claimed that there was nothing better than having his favourite person with him as he did his favourite activity.

Before you could say anything, Kenma rolled his eyes and turned his chair back around. “Go home, y/n. I don’t want you here right now.” 

You slightly nodded, taking a few steps back. You didn’t say anything as you grabbed your phone and made your way downstairs and out of his house. 

It hurt, having Kenma tell you to go home. You hadn’t seen him in a few days because you were busy with your studies and Kenma was busy with his gaming. He hadn’t really texted you and you made the first move. Except now, you wondered if you should have just stayed home and let him come to you.

You shrugged off the negative thoughts and made your way home. You would just avoid Kenma for a few days until he came to his senses. You knew that before you, gaming was everything to him, but even with you in his life, you couldn’t help but think that you were still second to his computer and devices. 

So much for shrugging off negative thoughts.

You opened your front door and trudged past your mother’s slightly concerned face. You made your way upstairs and immediately fell onto your bed, just wanting to sleep. 

Kenma finished his stream about two hours after you had left. He hadn’t even realized that you had gone home, so when he said goodbye to his viewers and stretched, turning his chair around, he was surprised to see his room empty. 

His cat-like eyes scanned the room for you, and he frowned when he realized he was alone. Kenma’s eyes narrowed at the brown paper bag on his table and he walked over, his lips parting at the smell of his favorite pie hitting him square in the chest. 

Kenma opened the bag to see a small apple pie boxed in pink, with two forks sitting on top. Kenma’s brows furrowed. Where were you?

Kenma grabbed his phone, turning on his ringer and taking it off Do Not Disturb. He had a bad habit of making himself unreachable when he gamed. 

Kenma’s eyes scanned the messages you had sent earlier in the day and a small bubble of guilt popped in his stomach. The words he had said to you came back to him like a wave crashing a cliffside, and his thumb hovered over the Call button. God, he felt like an ass. 

After a few small hesitant moments, Kenma pressed it, hoping to call you and apologize. After a few rings, Kenma heard your voicemail and he let out a small sigh. He ended the call and typed out a message instead. 

‘Sorry, y/n. Let’s meet at your locker tomorrow.’ 

You stared at the message with wide eyes. You didn’t want to see Kenma right now, especially since it was only after you left and he told you to go that he realized he was being an ass. 

You didn’t respond and threw your phone on the bed.

You would just deal with it later. You laid in bed and closed your eyes.

Waking up, you got ready as fast as you could. You wanted to be in class before Kenma even got to school. A part of you wondered if you were being petty. Were you? You shook your head, staring at yourself in the mirror. 

When you made your way to class, people smiled at you, some waving. You could only manage small smiles. You were part of the Student Council, and you had arranged a dance last month. The students had all loved you for it.

You quickly opened your locker, wanting to grab your books and then be in class, but of course, luck was not on your side.

Your locker door closed suddenly and you jumped. Your eyes met Kuroo’s dark ones, and the third-year smiled at you.

“Hello, y/n. How are you this fine morning?”

You smiled at him, hoping the ever observing captain couldn’t see through you. “I’m okay, Kuroo. How are you?”

Kuroo’s eyes narrowed at you and you gulped. His eyes fell on your forced smile and his smirk fell from his lips. “Hey, y/n. You okay?”

You quickly nodded and pried your locker door open again, grabbing your books. “Yup, I’m fine. Just a bad night, I suppose.”

You quickly turned around and walked away from the confused captain.

Kenma found Kuroo at your locker, looking a bit lost. 

“What are you doing here?”

Kuroo looked up at Kenma, his eyes taking in Kenma’s pursed lips. A bad night, huh?

Kuroo straightened himself and then pointed to where you had gone. “They went that way.”

With a small nod, Kenma walked towards your classroom. His eyes scanned the room until they fell on you in the back. Your head was down and you were typing away at your phone.

Kenma pulled out his phone and texted you.

‘Can you come outside?’

Your eyes scanned the message and you looked up, meeting Kenma’s eyes. You silently cursed yourself and nodded, getting up.

You slowly walked outside, standing in front of Kenma.

Kenma’s hand were in his pockets, he unconsciously rocked back and forth. Once you stood in front of him, Kenma looked at you.

“I’m sorry, y/n. I shouldn’t have told you to go home yesterday.”

You smiled and nodded at him. “It’s okay, Kenma.”

Kenma frowned. Now he knew that it was not okay. Not when you couldn’t make eye contact with him for more than three seconds. Still, Kenma nodded, hoping that over the week, he could make it up to you.

He couldn’t. Kenma couldn’t make it up to you because you avoided him. And you did a good job at it as well.

No matter how many times Kenma tired, he could not seem to catch you. You would answer his texts as curtly as possible, and make excuses whenever he asked to see you. It’s not that you wanted to be petty, you just couldn’t help it. Kenma had been neglecting you for some time and now all of a sudden he wanted your attention? Now that you weren’t there? It made you upset.

It was four days after he had told you to go home where he finally got to you. Kenma had been watching you like a predator all day. He needed to find you in a secluded area so he could confront you, and lunch was the perfect time.

Kenma leaned against the wall beside the women’s washroom. As soon as you exited the washroom, a firm hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you into a chest.

You struggled against Kenma’s hold, trying to push him away.

“Stop struggling, y/n.”

And you did. You dropped your hands and stood limp as Kenma hugged you. He tightened his hold around your waist and dropped his forehead on your shoulder.

“I’m so sorry. I am. I feel terrible. I know i’ve been neglecting you for gaming, and I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. Let me make it up to you, yeah?”

You nodded softly, bringing your own arms around his thin waist.

“I don’t want to be second to gaming, Kozume. When you told me to go home it hurt, and I didn’t like it.”

Kenma nodded, pressing a small kiss to your exposed neck. “m’sorry, babe. I’ll be better.”

You tightened your hold on your boyfriend with a smile on your face.

“I know.”

yuh babyyyyyy

this was soft

taglist: @h-grangerstudies @ackerpotato @snoozless @elektrosonix @howcanyoubreathewithnozaire

OH LOOK AT THIS—

pls hes so cute i just wanna kiss him

daddyjackfrost © 2021 | all content belongs to me, do not modify

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #kenma hcs #kenma imagine #kozume kenma #haikyuu kenma #hq prompts

[dinosaurtsukki]

light blue frosting | nanami kento x gn!reader

summary: it’s nanami’s birthday and you have a little surprise waiting for him at home

word count: 0.9k words

contains: fluff, non-canon au

a/n: ofc i had to make something for his birthday because i love him so much and he deserves the best also wildt that his birthday is so close to mine how i wish he was real so we could celebrate it together 

from y/n: ‘come home soon !! ( if you can <3)’

nanami isn’t used to receiving texts like this. actually, he isn’t used to receiving texts from anyone other than his co-workers giving updates on the new business report or when the next company meeting is going to be. his phone dings so often from new messages that nanami is so tempted to just keep it on mute for one day at least. but answering texts abruptly is part of his job and god only knows what would happen if he didn’t check his phone for three hours.

to y/n: i’ll be working overtime. don’t stay up too late

now, every time he hears a new message notification, the chance that it’s from you makes nanami anticipate checking his phone. even just reading about what you ate for lunch or how you were almost late for work or how your shoe fell off while chasing the train gave him something to look forward to do during his long work hours.

he appreciates how considerate you are: always reminding him that he doesn’t have to reply right away, that if he needs to focus on his work first or be in a meeting he can leave his phone on silent, that he should choose his own rest first.

nanami smiles down at your text before turning his gaze to the unfinished report on his computer. he wants to go home already. he almost feels like a kid expecting to see what surprise you had prepared for him and at the same time, almost guilty that he can’t be home soon to see it.

‘the sooner you get this done, the sooner you can go home,’ nanami reminds himself and with that extra boost of determination, he finishes up his work for the night.

...

the lights and television are on when nanami enters the house but you’re fast asleep on the floor with your head and arms on the coffee table. your boyfriend sighs when he sees you like this and makes his way silently to where you are. 

just when he’s debating whether or not to carry you to bed, your eyelids flutter open and you smile at the sight of him.

“hey, you’re home,” you yawn, stretching your arms out.

“you didn’t have to wait up for me, you know?” nanami says softly, running the back of his finger across your cheek. you pout and shake your head.

“it’s your birthday! and,” you flash him a grin and stand up. “i made you a little something.”

nanami chuckles at the excitement on your face. “do i have to close my eyes?”

“you most definitely have to close your eyes,” you nod before kissing him on the forehead and then jogging to the kitchen. “don’t open them!” 

“i won’t!” 

nanami here’s rustling in the kitchen, the sound of the refrigerator door and drawers being opened, the clink of plates. and then, he makes out the sound of you padding back to the living room.

“okay, open them!”

the first thing nanami sees is a warm glow before his eyes make out the shape of a cake decorated with light blue frosting topped with candles. ‘happy birthday nanami!’ was written on top of the cake as well, albeit clumsily, it was more than enough to put a smile on his face.

“happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,” you sing, clapping your hands softly together. “happy birthday dear nanami, happy birthday to you!” 

“do i blow the candles now?” nanami asks you.

“after you make your wish,” you giggle.

he must have been such a good person in another life to deserve someone like you in this one. what would have happened if nanami hadn’t chanced upon you at that elevator, if he had let the doors close instead of pressing the button to leave them open long enough for you to run in? what would have happened if he hadn’t seen you again working at one of his favorite cafes, if he had decided on one-sided conversations instead of actively engaging you?

needless to say, that day when he plucked up the courage to ask you out to dinner was probably one of the most important decisions nanami has ever made.

“what did you wish for?” you ask, nudging nanami gently in the side. 

“isn’t it bad luck for me to say my wish?” he replies teasingly, earning a pout on your face.

“fine. also, honestly i just followed this recipe online but i’m not really much of a baker so i don’t know if it tastes all that good, though i did lick the batter a bit and-- hey!”

nanami interrupts you by dabbing some of the frosting on your nose. he laughs at the incredulous look on your face because after all, your boyfriend was probably the most mature person you’ve ever met. but today nanami’s just a bit giddy because he can’t remember when he last enjoyed his birthday and today, he has cake and you at his side.

“well, the frosting tastes good,” he says, licking his finger.

“yeah, i can definitely taste it since it’s on my face,” you emphasize. nanami raises his eyebrows before leaning in to kiss you, smiling against your lips at the surprised gasp you let out.

“there. taste it?” he asks. you’re obviously flustered and purse your lips when you nod.

“tastes good.” 

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

no taglist because this is the first time i’ve written for jjk and i’m not opening requests for that (yet)

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami #happy birthday nanami kento #jujutsu kaisen fics #jjk fics #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen one-shot #jjk one-shot #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #nanami kento fluff #nanami fluff

[whyareyousittingathomeonthefloor]

Baby You’ve Got Me Tied Down

it’s finally here bitches

sub!harry

it’s been a long ass time coming and i love you all for being patient with me

i also love @gohometoacactus, @havethetimeofyourstyles and @tobe-sogolden for encouraging me and being the most wonderful betas. i love you all so much

this is 10.5k words of pure smut and if you squint just a hint of fluff at the end

feedback is of course welcome and encouraged as are rb’s!

enjoy!

Harry was in for it. Majorly in for it. He’d been insufferable all day. Sending you dirty texts, pictures that left little to the imagination and videos of him rutting against the bed, the desperate whimpers you loved so much escaping from his lips. All of these had been throughout the span of your work day, so you let him have his fun. Because tonight. You’d be having yours. 

You knew what he expected to come of this, he’d done it many times before. Torture you while you were at work and then when you came home, he’d devour you. But this time, you had something else in mind. You and Harry had a very active sex life. You guys kept things interesting, in fact just last night the two of you had ordered some special toys to try out. All of that being said, Harry was usually the one in charge. He called all the shots and you loved it. You loved how he made you so easily give up control, how easily he pulled noises you’d never heard yourself make from your mouth and how he gave your body feelings that could only be described as out of this world. Only on very rare occasions were you the one in charge. Very rarely did you get to see Harry squirm and writhe underneath you and very rarely did you pull whines and whimpers from his mouth that rivaled those of a pornstar’s. Tonight, you were hoping to do all that and more. By the end of the night, you wanted Harry completely and utterly fucked for you. And that’s exactly where he was going to be. 

You stand from the chair in your office, shutting down your computer and waving goodbye to your coworkers who were obviously staying late. As you’re walking to your car, your phone dings. You glance down and see the notification is from Harry. You bite your lip as you feel your core start to ache, only adding to the wetness that consumes your underwear. You walk quickly to your car and as soon as you’re inside, you open the message and your thighs involuntarily clench. 

It’s a video of your beautiful boyfriend stroking himself. You can tell he’s close by the way his hips buck into his hand as tugs at his shaft. 

“ Missin’ you.” He groans, throwing his head back against the pillow. You see his hand start to move faster and you know it’s only a matter of seconds until he releases. 

“ Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He pants, looking down at his painfully hard cock. “ Ugh, I’m gonna cum.” He announces to no one but himself and within seconds of his words, you see thick, white ribbons spill from him. He emits a long, drawn out groan as his orgasm consumes him and you watch him as he lay breathless on the bed sheets. A few seconds later, he lifts his head to the camera and locks eyes with you through the screen. 

“ Hurry home, baby.” He smirks and then the video ends. You lean your head against the head rest and take a deep breath to calm your raging hormones enough to make the fifteen minute drive back to you and Harry’s apartment. Once you’re calm enough, you type a response to your boyfriend who’s no doubt staring at his phone, waiting for a response that indicates how needy you are for him but he’s getting the exact opposite. 

“ On my way.” You type and hit send before starting the car. 

The car ride was excruciating, your thighs clenched every time you thought about the video you’d just seen and any other message you’d received throughout the day. You had half a mind to reach down and relieve yourself of just a little bit of the ache, but you were almost home so you kept your hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. It became almost impossibly difficult to ignore the ache between your thighs as Siri read aloud a text from Harry. 

 “ Be safe on the road, babe. Know you’re desperate to get home since I left you all in a bind this morning but that’s no reason to speed. I’ll be waiting (;.” The robotic voice reads and you roll your eyes because of the cocky tone he obviously meant his words to convey but you can’t help biting your lip because, yes. He had kept you waiting. Three times actually, ignoring every plea that fell from your mouth. 

“ Harry please! So close, oh my god!” You cried, gasping as your boyfriend slammed into you relentlessly, his hand wrapped around your throat as he whispered filthy things to you. 

“Yeah? You’re close angel?” He whispered hotly and you wrapped a hand around his wrist. nodding furiously. “ Can tell. Squeezing me so fucking tight. Dirty fucking slut.” He growled and you let out a noise you’d never heard yourself make. It was somewhere between a scream and whimper and it made you sound like a “desperate little whore” according to Harry. But that’s exactly what you were. He’d woken you up by licking into you and then had the audacity to edge you twice before this so of course you were desperate. You always needed to cum before work, it started your day off well and helped you not snap at the incompetent co workers you’d been cursed with. All of which Harry was aware of which is exactly why when your cry of “ gonna cum! gonna cum!” erupted from your lips, Harry ceased all of his movements. 

“ No!” You sobbed, feeling your third orgasm slip away and he just smirked before fully pulling out of you. 

“ Get dressed love, gonna be late.” He smiled and you flipped him off, wishing your legs had the ability to stand so you could slap the cheeky smile off of his face, but for now you’d settle for a mumble of “ asswipe” as you stood slowly from the bed because as much of a dick as he was, he was right. You were gonna be late. 

Now, as you pulled into the apartment complex, you couldn’t possibly be rushing to him any faster. You climbed the stairs two at a time and fumbled with the key to unlock the door, finally finding it, you took a deep breath to compose yourself and opened the door. You weren’t the least bit surprised at the sight in front of you. Harry was sitting on the couch, legs spread wide and arms spread out across the back of the couch in the most taunting and arrogant way, clad only in boxers. 

“ Welcome home, sweetheart.” He smirks and you smile back at him, dropping your bags to the hardwood floor and walking towards him. He follows your every move with hungry eyes and sits up when you’re standing right in front of his seated body. You lock eyes with him as you throw your legs to either side of his body, straddling him. He smiles as his hands move to rest on your waist. 

“ Knew you were needy but this a whole new level.” He taunts and you just smile. You push his fluffy, chocolate brown curls back from his face and he gives a confused look, trying to figure out how you’re so calm despite everything he’s done and sent you today. You look down into his mossy, green eyes and then down to his pink lips, studying his face. 

“ So beautiful, H.” You whisper and he smiles, reaching up and cupping your cheek. 

“ You too, baby.” He coos and you smile, rubbing your nose against his before pressing your lips to his. You cup his face and both of his hands go to your waist, squeezing lightly.You smile into the kiss and deepen it, licking over his bottom lip. He immediately parts his lips and you both moan as your tongues dance together. He leans back against the couch, hugging you closer to his chest and you put both hands on the wall above his head to brace yourself as he moves. You’re the first one to pull away from the kiss, bringing your lips lower down. You kiss up and down his neck, sucking softly in some places and biting harshly in others, feeding his pain kink. He moans softly, tilting his head back against the couch and squeezing your hips. As you continue to suck and kiss at his neck, you feel his hands start trying to move your hips against what is, no doubt, his rapidly growing bulge.You smile as you finish the hickey on his neck, running your tongue over it to soothe the burning. You pull back from his neck and almost laugh at the confused look on his face. 

“ What-.”  He goes to ask but is interrupted by the way his jaw drops as you remove his hands from your waist and place them above his head. “ Y/N. What are you-?” He pants but you cut him off. 

“ Upstairs.” You whisper, looking deep into his green eyes. He cocks his head to the side in confusion and he tries to pull his hands from your grasp but the evil glint in your eye warns him not to try that. He nods and you let go of his hands, climbing off of him to let him go where he needs to go. He doesn’t even give you a second glance as he makes his way up the stairs. You smile and turn to the bags you dropped when you walked in. You wanted to make him wait, make him squirm with anticipation of what was going to happen, because by now he knew he wasn’t going to be the one in charge this time and it made him excited but also slightly nervous. You took your sweet time putting everything where it needed to be and cleaning up just a little bit, he heard you downstairs and could tell you were teasing him. He huffed but knew he had no right to complain since he did it to you constantly. He’d tell you to go upstairs and then would clean the kitchen, maybe sweep a little bit, anything that made you wait long enough for your skin to crawl with nervousness and that’s exactly what you were trying to achieve with him now. 

And it was working. 

He sat on the edge of the bed, nervously rubbing his hands together and then running one through his hair. He had no idea what you had planned for him, but he knew it’d probably end with him in a fuzzy state. He was excited. Sure, he loved being in control, he loved wrapping his hand around your throat and telling you to moan for him and he loved pinning your hands above your head and fucking into you so hard it made you scream, but there was a part of him, a fairly large one that loved being controlled and he was so happy to have someone that shared his desires. He loved being completely at your mercy, he loved begging and he loved being in the state that only you could put him in. A state of complete and utter submission. He had so much stress to deal with and it was nice to be taken to a place where he physically could not think about those things and was solely focused on pleasing you. You guys didn’t do it often, but when you did he could only describe the things you made him feel as otherworldly, you pulled pleas out of his mouth like it was nothing, noises out of him that he’d never heard himself make before and he lived for it. He could already feel himself growing painfully hard, reminiscing the few times he’d been in this position before. And it was perfect timing, he looked up as he felt the room grow chillingly silent and saw you in the doorway. He took a deep breath, rubbing his sweaty palms on his thighs and locking eyes with you. 

“Hi, baby.” He whispers to you, his green eyes having a sort of doe like look to them. 

“ Hi, H.” You smile, but not your normal smile. More like a cunning one, one that tells him you have so much planned. He shivers and gives you a timid smile. 

“ Lay back for me.” You tell him, walking into the room and he does so immediately, laying flat on his back. You smile and walk towards him, you kneel down beside his body and you can feel his body tense as you lightly scratch up and down his torso. 

“ Relax, babe. It’s still me.” You remind him and he nods, swallowing thickly. 

“ What are you gonna do?” He whispers, watching as you drag your hand farther down his body. He jerks as your hand just barely grazes over the tent straining against his boxers. You chuckle and kiss just under his ear, smiling at the way he shivers. 

“ You’ll find out.” You whisper and you watch his Adam's apple bob as he gulps, but nods. You stand up from the floor and walk towards the closet. You make your way to the back of it, searching for the box of special toys you and Harry kept. You smile as you locate it, bending down to lift the top off. You rummage through the gags, plugs, blindfolds, and other toys to find what you’re looking for. Biting your lip, you take the toys in your hand and walk back to your boyfriend who has his eyes closed, breathing deeply. His eyes fly open when he feels your hand come up to caress the side of his face, pushing his curls out of his face. He looks up to see you smiling and he feels a shiver race through him at the look in your eyes. It’s the same look he gives you when he stands above your helpless, squirming body that’s usually restrained. Those nights always ended with you breathless and completely fucked for him. He knew that was where he’d be at the end of this, how he’d get there? Well, that was up to you. 

His eyes left yours and moved to the side table as he saw you set the things from the closet down on it. His eyes widened and he felt his heart rate pick up speed as he took in what lay on the wooden table. Handcuffs, a vibrator and a cock ring. He looks back up at you and you smile. You lean down, pressing your lips to his and you can feel his body relax under your hand that rests on top of his butterfly. You slip your tongue through his parted lips and he moans, lifting his hand to cup your face but you quickly take it and press it back to his side, shaking your head slightly into the kiss. 

“ No touching.” You whisper and he swallows again, nodding. “ Good boy.” You smile and he bites his lip, feeling his cock bloat at the rare praise. You smile and kiss him again before stepping back and beginning to strip. First is your blazer, you lock eyes with him as you begin to unbutton the piece of clothing on your body, after you've unbuttoned every button, you shrug it off your shoulders and you watch as his hungry eyes follow the thick fabric as it falls to the floor. Next, is your shirt, you lift the thin material over your head, tossing it to the side and smiling as Harry’s eyes follow it as it lands on the floor too. Lastly is your pants, you unbutton your jeans, keeping eye contact as you bend down to pull them off your legs. Once they’re at your ankles, you step out of them and kick them to the side, walking once again towards your touch starved boyfriend. You kneel on the bed, swinging one leg over his hips and then adjusting both at his sides so you’re straddling him comfortably, clad only in the lacy lavender set you’d slipped on this morning figuring Harry would pull a stunt like this. 

“ Shit, baby.” He breathes as he eyes your body up and down and you feel your body heat at his hungry gaze. His hands immediately come up to grab at your waist and you’re quick to pull them off of you, placing them back at his sides and then gripping his jaw in your hands. 

“ Can’t follow directions can you, baby?” You ask, his lips parted as his jaw is gripped tightly in your hand. “ Answer me.” You whisper as he stares blankly up at you and he shakes his head softly. You smile and push some curls from his face with your free hand. 

“ No?” You taunt and he shakes his head, eyes blown out in pleasure.  

“It’s a good thing that I have the perfect toy to fix that. Isn’t it, H?” You ask and he nods. You let go of his jaw and feel him start to pant under you as you reach over him, his hot breath hitting your breasts in short bursts as you grab the handcuffs from the side table. 

“ Hands up.” You tell him, as you resume your position on his hips. He lifts his hands above his head, spreading them so each of his wrists rest on the edge of the either hooks you both had installed onto the bed frame when you discovered both parties enjoyed being restrained. You hook the cuffs through each hook and then around his wrists. He takes a deep breath and tugs on them, making sure they’re tight on his wrists, nodding as he realizes there’s no way he’s getting out of these without your help. The thought excites both him and you. 

“ Remember your safe word?” You ask, running both of your hands up and down his torso and he nods. “ Don’t hesitate to use it if it gets too much for you.” You remind him and he nods again. 

“ I won’t.” He assures you and you smile. You lean down, pressing your lips to his once again and his lips immediately mold to yours. He licks over your bottom lip and your lips part, granting him this last bit of control. He moves his tongue in slow strokes against yours and it already has you melting into him. You moan and reach up to tug at his hair, earning you a small whimper that you greedily swallow. You pull away, traveling your kisses further down. You press, fast, wet kisses to his neck, sucking lightly on the protruding vein and he groans, titling his head back to give you more access. Your kisses move down his torso and you look up at him as you flick your tongue over his nipples, remembering how he’d once told you that they were a very sensitive spot. He moans as you nip softly at them and then soothe the burn with your tongue, hips bucking up trying to get any contact from you. You smile, pulling away from the kisses you were pressing to his lower stomach, wrapping your hand around his throat and squeezing softly. His eyes widen and he whimpers softly. 

“Thought you were gonna be a good boy for me, H?” You whisper, fake pouting and he groans. Your dominance and the hand around his throat sending arousal straight to his cock. 

“ I will, I will.” He tells you in rushed pants. “ I’m sorry.” 

“ Good.” You smile, releasing your grip on his neck. “ You’ll get what you want soon.” You tell him and he nods. You continue sponging kisses to his lower stomach, licking and sucking in some places, You revel in the way his body squirms helplessly under your touch, remembering a night not long ago where you found yourself in this exact position. Harry’s breathing starts to pick up as you press kisses along the waistband of his boxers. You pull back and smirk up at him as you completely ignore the bulge he’s sporting. 

“ No.” He breathes, head tilting back in frustration but you ignore him, kissing and nibbling on his inner thighs, causing his legs to jerk. You give one last kiss to each thigh before running your hands up his thighs and hooking your fingers inside the waistband of his boxers. His eyes fly open and he lifts his head to look at you. His breathing deepens as you pull the boxers down his thick thighs. You two maintain eye contact even as you pull the boxers down to his ankles and then fully off. You climb back up to his body, straddling his hips again. He’s panting audibly now as he looks up at you, desperately awaiting your next move. 

“ What do you want, H? Hm?” You ask, scratching lightly up his torso. 

“ Anything. Please.” He begs, tugging on the cuffs. You smile and cup his cheek, he sighs at the gentle touch. 

“ Desperate?” You ask and he nods with fervor. 

“ Yes. Yes, Y/N please.” He pants, body squirming under you. 

“ Okay, okay. Relax.” You tell him, running your thumb along his cheekbones. You swing one leg off of his body, the other following allowing you to kneel beside him on the bed. You take his rock hard cock in your hands and he lets out a long, drawn out moan, his body jerking at the slightest touch. You smile and bring your mouth to his tip, spitting directly on it and relishing in the whine that leaves his pink lips as you start stroking him. 

“ Need you to tell me when you’re gonna cum okay?” You ask him and he nods, looking down at his cock in your hand. 

“ Okay, okay I will.” He pants, hips starting to buck just slightly up into your hand. 

“ Good boy.” You tell him again, watching his eyes roll back in his head. You apply more pressure to his cock, squeezing it tighter and he groans. 

“ Fuck.” He breathes, biting his lip. He tugs just slightly on the cuffs, whining when they don’t budge. “ It’s good baby, it’s so good.” He groans, hips bucking faster up into your hand. 

“ Yeah? Missed my touch, H?” You tease and he nods, head tilted back and mouth agape as tiny whimpers fall from his lips. 

“ Yes, fuck missed it so much.” He confirms breathlessly. 

“ Bet you were thinking about me when you sent me all those videos weren’t you?” You tease even more and he moans. 

“ God yes. Only you.” He whimpers. You know he’s close. You can see it in the way he tugs harder at the cuffs and the way that the heavy pants falling from his lips are now within seconds of each other. 

“ What were you thinking about, baby?” You decide to spur him on, knowing this will only bring him closer to his release. “ Thinking about my hand? The way I know exactly how to touch you?” You ask, flicking your wrist as you stroke him the way you know he likes and focusing more on his tip since it’s the most sensitive part of his length and often the part that gets him off the quickest. His head is still tilted back towards the headboard and his face is pinched almost in discomfort but you know that means that he’s even closer. 

“ Or maybe you were thinking about my mouth.” You add. “ How good it feels around you.” You egg him on and you know it’s working because his hips are bucking up into your hand faster than you’ve seen them this whole time and hushed encouragements of “yes” fall from his parted lips in succession. 

“ Thinking about how I can take you all the way? Or about how you like to put me on my knees and-” You continue but are quickly cut off by his shout. 

“ Fuck! I’m there, I’m there.” He pants and you immediately pull your hand away. He whimpers and lets his head fall dramatically onto the pillow below him. “ Shit.” He breathes. 

“ Good?” You ask him and he nods. 

“ So good.” He whispers and you smile, leaning up to kiss him again. His tongue gives yours slow, deep strokes and you moan at the taste of him. You drag your knees behind you as you scoot closer to his face, fully submerging yourself into the kiss. You reach up to tug at his hair and greedily swallow the whimper that follows. You moan softly as he bites down on your lower lip and then pulls away, watching in awe as it snaps back into place. You smile and lean down to kiss the tip of his nose, giggling at the way it scrunches up after. You leave kisses on every inch of skin as you crawl back down his body, leaving him panting and squirming above you. As you sit beside him on the bed, you take his cock into your hand again, smiling at the way that he involuntarily moans and bucks up into your hand. You give him a few slow strokes, basking in his breathy moans and pants. You look up to see his head tilted back and his eyes screwed shut as he zeroes in on the pleasure that he’s sure will be taken from him soon. Or so he thinks. 

“ Gonna use my mouth now okay?” You tell him and he nods feverishly. 

“ Please.” He barely whispers. You crawl even further down his body and swing one leg over his calf while situating the other so that you’re sitting astride his legs. You give his length a few more tugs before lowering your mouth onto him. He releases a long whine as his eyes roll back in his head and he tugs at the cuffs. 

“ Fuck.” He breathes as you start bobbing your head up and down while your tongue skirts over his length. His cock feels heavy on your tongue and you moan around him, causing his legs to jerk. You look up at him and see his knuckles turning a ghostly white from how tight he’s tugging on the cuffs. You run your hands up his body and give a rough slap to his pecs, making him groan and buck up into your mouth. You pull back from his cock and start stroking him, the sounds of your hand against your spit are absolutely sinful. He moans and bucks up into your hand again. 

“ Feel good h?” You tease, already knowing the answer. He nods furiously. 

“ It’s so good.” He breathes, looking down at you with half open eyes. You smile and lick your lips, wrapping them back around the head of his cock, you give a few swirls of your tongue around his head before pushing him all the way down your throat. 

“ S-shit!” He gasps, tugging on the cuffs and arching his back. “ Oh my god.” He breathes, looking down at you. “ You’re so good, angel.” He pants and you moan around his cock.You pull off his cock with the most sinful sound and he whines, you continue stroking him to keep up the pleasure and he’s thrusting up into you. He tilts his head back and wraps his fingers around the wooden headboard. 

“ You’re close aren’t you baby?” You ask and his nod is accompanied by a long whine as you squeeze him particularly hard. You lean down again and wrap your lips around his cock, focusing more on the tip once again. He whines and starts panting heavily. 

“ Yes, yes, yes, yes.” He whispers, face pinched in pleasure as he feels the white hot heat travel up his spine. “ Fuck, gonna cum.” He whimpers and you pull off of him immediately. Watching him squirm and tug at the cuffs as his orgasm escapes him. He breathes deeply as he looks up at you. You wink at him and then kiss up and down his stomach, sucking and biting in some places. Once you reach his happy trail, you press kisses back up his torso, to his neck and eventually his lips. You connect your lips with his, biting softly on his bottom lip and watching as it snaps back into place. You reach over him and grab the vibe from the table. His eyes widen and he shakes his head feverishly. 

“ No, no, no. Won’t last with that. I can’t.” He begs and you smile, turning it on. 

“ Good thing you don’t have to then.” You tease. His eyes widen and you wink before pressing the vibe to the head of his cock. His back arches and he tugs at the cuffs, mouth open in a silent moan. 

“ Oh, f-fuck.” He sputters as his head tilts back in pleasure. You move the head of the vibe around his tip and his eyes roll back in his head. “ Oh my god.” He breathes, toes curling. You sneak a glance up at him as you move the vibe around his length. His head is thrown back against the headboard, his toned chest heaves as his body wracks with pleasure. His eyes are closed and his bottom lip is being tugged on relentlessly by his teeth, his normal raspberry color deepening.

You move the vibe down his rigid length, making sure to put extra pressure on the prominent vein that runs down it, knowing he’s sensitive there. Your attentiveness has it’s desired reaction when Harry lets out a cracked whine, his face pinching in utter pleasure. His lips part and heavy pants fall one after the other from them. He lifts his head from where it rests against the pillow and looks up at you and he has to force his eyes not to roll back so he can continue staring at the sight in front of him. 

You’re straddled atop his thighs, clad in only a lacy, lavender set that leaves little to the imagination. Your boobs spill out of the bra as you lean forward to move the vibe around his cock and the bottoms are so thin he can feel your wetness sticking to his thigh. Your hair creates the perfect shadow across your face as it dances in waves around your shoulders, swaying as you move with the vibe. He’s about to tell you just how delectable you look when he feels burning pleasure travel up his spine. You’ve moved the vibe back to his tip and the pleasure is ripping through him. He lets out a broken moan as you add more pressure to his slit with the vibe, his eyes rolling back in his head and hips involuntarily bucking. He tugs on the cuffs and throws his head back in ecstasy. 

“Shit.” He moans, his back arching off the bed slightly. “ I’m gonna cum.” He groans, pushing his forehead against the headboard. “ I’m gonna cum.” He says again and you smile. 

“ Cum for me, h. Want you to cum so fucking hard.” You say, adding a little whine to the end of your words knowing how much he loves to hear your sounds. He nods and his eyes roll back in his head once again as you reach down to fondle his balls as the vibe runs over his tip. His lips part in a silent shout and you find yourself wishing he had enough air to make the noise he’s holding back. You’ll just have to try harder. As you move the vibe around his slit, waiting for his release you take this time to really look at him. He looks so beautiful when he’s about cum. You don’t see it much because by the time he’s about to cum, you’ve already had 4 orgasms and physically don’t have the energy to open your eyes. But he’s gorgeous. A thin layer of sweat coats his toned body, shining on his pecs and his bulging biceps as he grips the chains for dear life. His chocolate brown curls are still slightly intact but getting messier the more he rolls around the pillow. His chest is littered with marks. Angry red scratches made by you as your orgasm overtakes you, your bouncing slowing from a hard, fast pace slam to a dull, barely there jump which is usually when Harry takes over. Wrapping you in his arms and thrusting up into you as he chases his release. His abdomen clenches, a clear sign that his release is only seconds away and you find yourself almost drooling at his lean, but muscular body as it lay sprawled out and tied up for you. 

Your daydream is interrupted by a soft whine of “fuck” that gradually increases in volume until you see his back arch off the bed, his jeweled hands tugging the cuffs downwards and thick, white ribbons of his release coating the vibe and your hand. You watch his body as his abdomen clenches and unclenches as the waves of his orgasm slowly start to subside. A pant falls from his lips as he leans his head back on the pillow, catching his breath. His chest heaves, making his pecs look even bigger and you have to stop a quiet whimper from escaping you. Once he whines and wiggles his legs as best he can with you straddling them, you turn the vibe off and set it on the side table, leaning down to swipe your tongue across his tip, collecting his cum on your tongue and basking in the way his legs jerk and a whimper falls from his lips. You smile and pull back, running your nails lightly up his torso as his high slowly fades. 

“ Christ, angel.” He breathes and you smile. 

“ Was it good?” You ask and he scoffs, opening his eyes. 

“ Bloody amazing.” He smiles. “ Gotta be honest though, dove. Not much of a punishment.” You smile and run your hand up his lean torso.

“ Sweet boy, you didn’t think that was it did you?” You ask and his eyes widen slightly.

“What do you mean?” He asks and you can tell he’s becoming increasingly nervous because he shifts awkwardly.

“I mean,” you say, reaching over him to grab the cock ring. “this night is far from over.” He follows your hand as it brings the ring in front of both of your faces.

“ Been such a fucking attention whore the whole day. Sending me videos, pictures, knowing i’m at work. That’s not a very good boy, h.” You smirk and you hear him suck in a breath.

“ B-but you already let me cum.” He whispers and you nod, a knowing smile plastered on your face.

“I know.” You say plainly and his next sentence is shaky.

“ So, what are you gonna-?” He starts and you look up at him, cocking an eyebrow. His eyes widen knowingly.

“ No. No, no y/n I can’t. You know I can’t. How many?” He asks and you just shrug.

“ However many I want.” You say, looking up at him then down at his cock. His eyes follow yours and he groans.

“M’still hard.” He whispers, eyes bright with both excitement and nervousness.

“ I see that.” You answer, toying with the ring. “What do you suggest we do?”

“ Make me cum again.” He breathes, bucking his hips towards you. You smile and run your hand up his thigh, gripping his sensitive cock in your hand, making him whimper in pleasure. You stroke his length gently, reveling in the way his hips jerk in sensitivity when you run your thumb over his slit.

“ Please.” He groans, tilting his head back. You land a harsh slap on his thigh and he whimpers.

“ Be patient.” You demand and he nods, a breathless “m’sorry” coming from his lips. You smile and lick your lips, staring almost hungrily at his cock. You take his length in your hand, setting the ring down on the bed before wrapping your lips around his tip. A broken moan falls from his lips at the unexpected warmth and his back arches.

“ Fucking christ.” He breathes, a long, drawn out moan attached to it as you give small, kitten licks to his slit. After a few moments, you pull off and he whines, kicking his feet. You look up at him and land a soft but firm slap to his cheek and he moans but stops his whining. You pick the ring up from the bed and turn it on and he sucks in a breath.

“ Ready?” You ask and he nods furiously.

“ Yes.” He groans and slip the ring onto his cock. His back arches and he tugs roughly on the cuffs. “ Jesus fucking-.” He gasps, back hitting the bed dramatically as the pleasure courses through him. You move up his body, kissing his stomach lightly and enjoying the way his abdomen clenches at the gentle touch. You trail sloppy, wet kisses over the laurels decorating his lower stomach, nosing slightly at his happy trail. The kisses make their way up his body, your tongue tracing the lines of his butterfly. You watch him as he looks down at you, his mouth agape with small pants falling from them, You make your way up his body, giving each nipple a small bite and he yelps, giggling. You smile up at him and lick your way up the rest of his body. When you get to his neck, you reach up and slightly grip his jaw, tilting his head up and to the side to grant you more access. He moans softly as you begin licking and sucking on different areas of his throat, turning the tan skin red which will soon fade to the purple he loves to admire in the mirror the morning after you guys’ activities. You waste no time in crashing your lips together as you reach his face. He sighs into the kiss and immediately deepens it, slipping his tongue into your mouth and giving it long strokes. You sigh contently and cup his face with one hand, using the other hand to tug gently at his chocolate brown curls. He moans softly into the kiss and tugs at the cuffs, showing he wants to touch you. You shake your head, never breaking from the kiss and he grumbles. 

“ Let me taste you.” He breathes, pulling back from the kiss. “ Can feel how wet you are from that set you’ve got on. angel. Let me make you cum.” He finishes, eyes searching yours. You bite your lip and nod, moving your body so that your center rests above his face. He looks up at you and tugs on the cuffs. “ Please.” He breathes. 

“ But y’look so pretty tied up like this baby.” You counter and he pouts. 

“ Just for right now, please Y/N.” He begs and you sigh, reaching up and taking the handcuffs off of his writs. You grip both his wrists before his hands have a chance to touch you. 

“ They’re going right back on after I cum okay?” You tell him and he nods, looking down at the wet spot growing bigger on the lavender bottoms. 

“ Yes, yes okay.” He rushes and you let go of his hands, watching the way his eyes light up as his hands drop to your hips. He dips his fingers into the waistband of your bottoms, tugging them as far down as he could. You lift your body from where it rests, just enough for him to get the underwear down your ankles. He wastes no time in running a finger over your folds when you place yourself over his face again. 

“ Fuck. You’re soaked for me, baby.” He whispers, eyes focused on your dripping core. You reach down and run your fingers through his hair, gripping it softly. 

“ Harry.” You whisper, hips thrusting towards him and he smiles, gripping your hips. He pulls you so that your center rests right above his mouth, his eyes free to look up at you as he devours you like his last meal. The first swipe of his tongue against your folds has your eyes rolling back and your hips jerking.

 “ Fuck.” You breathe, looking down at him.

“ Good?” He asks and you nod furiously.

“ Yes, God more. More Harry.” You beg and he nods, gripping your hips even tighter and licking over your folds once again, this time sucking your clit into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the bud. Your back arches above him and he moans as he sucks on your bundle of nerves. Small pants fall from your lips as you look down and begin to grind over his face. He assists you, using both hands to help you ride his face and you bite your lip, reaching down and tugging at his curls. 

“ Taste so good, sweetheart.” He moans, looking up at you with dilated pupils, confirming his hunger for you as if it wasn’t apparent in his every move. His praise sends a wave of pleasure up your spine causing a pitiful whine to fall from your lips. He soaks up your noises greedily, hand moving from your hip down to his hardened cock. He looks up at you and in your haze of pleasure you nod. He gives one tug to his shaft and his eyes roll back into his head, a long whine falling from his lips. He begins to nibble slightly on your clit and you yelp, looking down at him and smiling softly as you see the dorkiest look in his eyes.  

“ Shit!” you giggle and you can see a smile spread across his face as he mouths away at your center. He continues tugging at his cock and the needy whimpers he emits travel straight to your dripping core. “Feel good baby?” you tease and he nods, pulling away from your core just enough to pant a few words. 

“Feels so good.” He breathes, “Fucking throbbing.” He groans.

“After I cum, gonna make you cum okay?” You ask and he nods, going back to mouthing over your folds. He pulls away only enough to slip his middle finger into his mouth, coating it in his spit before teasing your hole with it.

“Harry.” You breathe and he wastes no time in slowly pushing his finger into you, you gasp as your back arches and your hands tug even harder at his mess of curls. “Shit.” You pant, looking down at him, his smug face sending waves of pleasure down you spine as he starts siding his finger in and out of you.You reach down to grip his hair and he moans softly. He pushes his long, slender finger into you again, nudging your g-spot slightly and you whimper softly. He makes a come hither motion and it causes a wave of pleasure to ripple throughout your entire body and he revels in it. Basking in the broken moan that falls from your lips as he adds in a second finger. He tugs harder on his cock, your desperation for him only fueling his need. His eyes roll back in his head and his pink lips part as he runs a thumb over his slit, his cold ring sending a chilling wave of pleasure through his body. He kisses the part of your stomach he can reach, licking the area before softly biting it, causing you to jerk away from him and giggle. He smiles up at you and moves his mouth back to your core, lapping away at the wetness that’s pooled there since his fingers were added into the mix. He closes his eyes as he begins to devour you again, the loud moan you emit causing him to give his shaft a harsh tug. Shaky hands reach up to grip the headboard as you start to grind over his face, not even caring how desperate you sound because you just need him to get you there.

 Your release had been put off long enough, from him edging you three times this morning, to you getting interrupted right as you were about to topple over the edge in the break room and to you having to deny yourself of any relief on the fifteen minute drive to the apartment. You feel yourself clench around his fingers as you recount all those events and the whine that falls from his mouth sends vibrations up your spine, a small shiver coursing through you. 

“ Need to cum.” He whispers and you look down at him. His chest is heaving heavily and his mouth is open, head thrown back against the headboard as he strokes himself quickly. 

“ What did I tell you?” You ask him and he whines, hips bucking. 

“ You- you cum first, then me.” He pants and you smile. 

“ Good, h. That’s a good boy.” You praise and he smiles, beginning to mouth away at you again, faster this time. You groan and throw your head back, your nails digging into the wood of the headboard as you feel your orgasm approaching. 

“ Faster.” You moan and he immediately obliges, plunging his fingers in and out of you fast and hard. 

“ Fuck!” You cry out and he moans into your center. You feel his arm next you move faster and you know that he’s speeding up the tugs on his cock, chasing his release just as desperately as he’s chasing yours. He pulls back when you start riding his face desperately and lands a harsh slap to your center that has you crying out. 

“ Shit!” You squeak, looking down at him and biting your lip as his eyes roll back from the pent up pleasure. “ Again.” You moan and he wastes no time in landing another harsh slap to your clit, licking over it immediately after. He repeats that four more times before hearing your sharp cry of, “ I’m coming!” and he slips his fingers back into you, plunging them in and out at an almost inhuman speed that has you screaming his name. 

His name along with a string of curse words fall from your lips like a song as your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks, causing your body to fall forward and go limp against the headboard, body shaking uncontrollably above your whining boyfriend. He fucks you through it, pushing his fingers in and out softly, marveling at the way your body spasms when the pad of his finger just barely grazes that spot inside of you. You take a deep breath, panting heavily as you come down from your high. You barely get any time to rest before his hips are bucking and he’s whining out. 

“ Me now. Please. M’so hard.” He begs and you sigh, jelly legs crawling down his body because you have nowhere near the amount of energy it would take to lift yourself up and off of him. Your reach down and move his hand off of his shaft replacing it with your own and he moans, gripping the sheets beside him. 

“ Off. I need it off y/n, please.” He whispers and you nod, slipping the ring off of his cock with some difficulty given how hard he was. You immediately wrap your lips around his shaft, wanting him to reach his release so he could finally be inside you and he gasps, head coming up to look at you only to drop back down to the pillow as he thrusts into your mouth. “ Fuck.” He moans, a shaky hand coming up to rest on the back of your head, gripping your hair slightly. You reach down and fondle his balls lightly and he nearly screams as he feels his orgasm hurtling towards him. You push him all the way down your throat and that sends him over the edge.

“ Shit, shit, shit.” He groans, hips bucking into your mouth, making you gag around his cock. “M’coming. M’coming!” He shouts and there’s barely five seconds in between his announcement and the first spurt of his release into your mouth. Desperate moans, whines and whimpers fall from his lips without any break as his second orgasm of the night consumes him. You pull back from his cock and swallow, wiping the remnants of his release from your chin and pressing the pad of your thumb to his tongue, watching him wrap his pink lips around your thumb, a tired look overtaking his green eyes. He pulls off your thumb with a pop and his head falls dramatically onto the pillow behind him. 

“ Fuck.” He whispers and you smile, kissing all over his face. 

“ How do you feel, my love?” You coo, brushing some of his sweaty curls back from his forehead. 

“ Sleepy.” He replies, pulling you up to him and nosing at your neck. You hum and kiss his temple. 

“ You think you can give me one more?” You ask and his eyes widen. 

“ M’tired.” He whines and you giggle. 

“ Know you are, sweet boy. But don’t you wanna be inside me?” You ask, your fingers raking through his curls as he closes his eyes. “ S’up to you, babyboy.” You remind him and he nods. 

“ Wanna be inside you.” He decides and you smile. “ But y’have to fuck me. Too tired.” He says and laugh softly before nodding. 

“ You weren’t gonna be on top any way silly.” You tell him and he pouts. You lean forward and kiss the pout off of his full lips and he moans softly when you bite his bottom lip gently. The next few minutes are spent like that, soft but passionate kisses, teasing and biting until you feel him start to stir slightly underneath you.

You look down to where his shaft rests on his stomach, kissing his pec lightly before making your way back down his body. He opens his eyes just slightly and gasps when your hand wraps around his cock. 

“ Sensitive.” He breathes and you nod.

“ I know, one more and then we’ll cuddle.” You say and he nods, dropping his head to the pillow. You lick over his slit once and he lets out a pained groan, gripping the headboard above him. You watch his hand move and realize that he’s still uncuffed. You crawl back up his body, straddling him and reaching for the cuffs. 

“ Hands up for me, bubba.” You tell him and he raises his hands limply above your head. You slip the cuffs on and secure them around his wrist before crawling back down his body and stroking at his cock again. He moans loudly and his face twists in pleasure, you can feel him beginning to harden again so you wrap your lips around his head and suckle lightly. He lets out a broken whine as sensitivity shoots through every nerve in his body, setting them all on fire. He tugs at the cuffs and opens his eyes to look down at you, moaning as your eyes meet his while you take more of him. His hips jerk when you reach down to fondle his balls, the tip of his cock meeting the back of your throat. He whimpers loudly as you gag around him, still lightly touching his balls and his long fingers wrap around the chain of the cuffs. You pull off his cock with the most sinful pop and waste no time in sucking one of his balls into your mouth, furiously stroking at his cock as you do so and his hips buck wildly into your hands. 

“ Fucking hell.” He groans, throwing his head back against the headboard. “ Full.” He gasps. “ W-wanna be full.” You pull off of him and smile. 

“ Yeah? Feeling empty bub?” You ask and he nods feverishly, looking down at you. 

“ Please.” He whispers, bucking his hips and you smile, planting a pert kiss to his slit and marveling at the way his eyes roll back before you walk to the closet. You pull out the drawer of toys you and him keep for when either of you are feeling for some fun, which is quite often. You sift through the plugs. vividly remembering the times they’d been used on either you or Harry. After searching through the drawer, you peek your head out of the closet and smile at him. 

“Which color, bubbie?” You ask and he bites his lip in thought. 

“ Want purple.” He smiles and you nod. 

“ The glittery one?” 

“Mhm.” He nods, shifting again as you pick up the plug and walk back to him. You kneel down beside him to grab the lube from his bedside drawer. 

“ Which one angel?” You ask and he looks between the two flavors of lube. 

“ Strawberry.” He decides and you laugh softly. 

“ How did I know?” You ask rhetorically. He loved the strawberry flavor, so much so that every time he saw it at the store, he picked one or two up. You two had hardly even touched the other bottle, it was the one you carried with you in your purse if you two were going out and you felt like teasing him even though that hardly ever happened, considering the fact that he was the one calling the shots most of the time. You slip the other lube back into the drawer and position yourself in front of his legs. 

“ Know what to do baby, c’mon.” You smile and he spreads his legs, bending them at the knees. 

“ There’s a good boy.” You coo and he blushes. You lean forward and brush your lips against his inner thigh and he shudders. “Gonna stretch you out first okay?” You tell him and he nods. You flip open the cap on the bottle, squirting a fair amount onto your finger considering it had been a while since Harry had been the one in this position. You rub the lube over him and he gasps, you look up at him and he giggles. 

“Cold.” He grins and you laugh softly, rolling your eyes. Once you deem him properly lubed, you squirt some more onto your finger, attempting to warm it as much as you can by rolling it in between your two fingers. You press the pad of your finger against his hole and he whines.

“Inside.” He breathes and you push your finger in slowly, causing him to tug harshly on the cuffs and his back to arch off the bed. “Shit.” He groans and you bite your lip as you watch your finger move slowly in and out of him.

“God H, fucking tight.” You whisper lowly and he whimpers, biting his lip. He lets out a low groan as your finger nudges his prostate and you watch the way his abdomen clenches. 

“ More. I can take it.” He breathes. 

“You sure?” 

“Mhm. Promise.” He nods and you oblige, slowly sliding another finger inside him. You bite your lip and watch in awe as his hole stretches deliciously, his lewd moans an added bonus. 

“Touch me. Please touch me.” He groans, bucking his hips slightly and you waste no time in wrapping your hand around his cock and pumping. His head falls back against the pillow and a pained groan falls from his lips as two of his most sensitive areas are worked by your hands. You stroke his cock, running your thumb over his sensitive slit at the same time your fingers brush against his prostate and his back arches almost completely off the bed, a strangled moan falling from his pink lips.

You continue stretching him out until he whines.

“Want the plug. M’good, I promise.” He tells you and you nod since you’d been stretching him out for at least 15 minutes at this point. You reach for the plug and without missing a beat, pull your fingers from his just as you press the tip of the plug to his puckered hole and push. He groans as the cold tip pushes into him, his abdomen clenching as the plug fills him. You go slower than normal seeing as this was the first time he’s been full in weeks but he protests.

“Faster.” He whines, pushing forward to try and take more of the plug and you slap his thigh, making him whimper.

“ Don’t wanna hurt you, H. Patience please.” And he whines again but you  ignore him and continue to ease the plug in. He moans lewdly when it’s fully in and you marvel at how pretty the flower at the bottom of the plug looks sticking out of him. You look up and see him biting his lip, his chest sweaty and heaving and biceps bulging from the grip he has on the cuffs. You had stopped stroking his cock while you pushed the plug into him and you feel it now, hardened again in your grip. You give him a few more strokes before rising from your position and sitting in between his bent knees. 

“Want me to fuck you?” You whisper and his response is immediate. A furious nod of his head and whispered, “yes please”. All of the other times you two were in this position, you’d made him beg for you. Beg to the point of tears filling his eyes and his breath coming out in short, frantic puffs. But now, you didn’t make him wait. You were far too ready to have him fill you up so you stroked him a few more times before lining him up with your center and sinking down on him. 

Both reactions are immediate. His is a gasp followed by a moan as his head lifts and drops back onto the pillow and yours is a loud whimper with your head thrown back as you bottom out. You let out a soft gasp as Harry’s hips buck up into you, his cock hitting the spot he knew like the back of his hand. 

“ Have to move angel, please.” He groans and you obey, lifting up once and the dropping back down, creating a rhythm that has you both whining. 

“ Fucking hell. So fucking tight.” He moans, eyes rolling back as he feels your walls clench around him. You moan as the words flow from his mouth your pace quickening. 

“ Shit.” You moan, throwing your head back. “Fucking huge baby.” You whine, your hands going to rest behind you as you leave the front of your body on full display for his hungry eyes. He moans at the praise and tries his best to thrust up into you, assuming he’s doing something right by the way your stomach clenches and the gasp that erupts from your throat. He does it again and you moan, leaning forward and putting your hands above his head to steady yourself. You press your forehead to his and he smiles, laughing breathlessly as you bounce even harder. He reaches up and presses his lips to yours and you kiss him back immediately, swiping your tongue against his bottom lip and moaning when he opens his mouth. The kiss is heated but slow and precise, his tongue stroking yours in slow, deliberate movements that have you moaning into his mouth so he can swallow them. You pull back after a little bit, your hands now moving to rest on his chest, digging in slightly to his pecs and watching him hiss. You quicken your pace, the sound of your skin slapping against his as you bounce resounding across the room and his noises are short, lewd moans as his orgasm approaches. You were glad that you had edged him twice and then made him cum twice because you knew that his next orgasm would be fast and considering how desperate you were, yours would be too. 

“ Feel so good, dove.” He groans. “So fucking warm and tight, Fucking christ.” He finishes with a whimper and you moan softly. Your bounces are desperate and sloppy now, you can feel the fire inside your belly growing every time his cock hits the spot only he can. He feels you squeeze around him as he hits that spot again and he whimpers. “M’gonna cum, fuck gonna cum.” And you waste no time in bouncing as hard and as fast as you can because you could feel your own orgasm fast approaching. 

“Cum for me, H. Wanna feel it.” You beg and he moans again as your core squeezes him, A pained whimper is the next thing you hear as his orgasm rips through him, his back arching ridiculously off the bed and the cuffs almost detaching from their place on the headboard. His faces pinches in pleasure and his teeth are on full display as loud whimpers of “ah” erupt one after the other from his mouth. Your eyes roll back in your head as you watch his face and his strained plea of “please god please” is what sends you over the edge. Your body shakes and your mouth falls open, a silent scream falling from between your parted lips. He groans both in pleasure and sensitivity as your walls clench again, milking every last drop from him. 

You collapse onto his chest, panting and he smiles breathlessly. 

“Holy shit.” He giggles and you roll your eyes playfully. You stay like that for a few more minutes before remembering the most important part of scenes. Aftercare. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up hm?” You tell him and he nods weakly. You lift off of him, wincing slightly as the empty feeling overtakes you and walk on wobbly legs to the bathroom. Wetting a towel with warm water, wiping yourself off first, dampening it again and then bringing it out to him. You clean his stomach and thighs from the first two orgasms and then lightly clean his cock, cooing to him when he hisses in sensitivity. Once he’s all cleaned up you toss the rag into a pile with your other clothes and reach up, undoing his cuffs. His hands fall limply to his sides and he takes a deep breath, exhaling dramatically. You giggle and walk over to your drawers, you pull out two shirts, one for him and one for you. You toss a shirt and a clean pair of boxers on the bed for him and strip of your own attire before slipping on the your shirt and a fresh pair of underwear. You walk over to him and comb your fingers through his hair.

“ Can you sit up for me bubba?” You ask softly and he nods, slowly sitting and then leaning his head against your tummy. You giggle and kiss the top of his head. “Gonna get your dressed and then we’ll go to sleep okay?” You ask and he nods, pulling back from your stomach. You thank him and pick up the shirt, slipping it over his head before gently pushing him down so you call pull the boxers up his legs. Before doing that, you gently remove the plug resulting in a whine and your explanation of why it’s not good to leave it in. He huffs and then finally agrees, letting you slide the boxers up his legs and lifting his hips so you can get it under his backside. You stand up from where you knelt in front of him and climb into bed, he moves over and buries his head in your neck, sighing happily.

“Thank you for tonight.” He whispers and you smile.

“Wasn’t too much was it?” You ask, concern lacing your voice and he shakes his head furiously.

“Nuh uh. Was perfect, I promise.” He smiles and you kiss him gently on the nose.

“Sleep now, sweet baby. You’re safe.” You tell him and he nods, drifting off with a mumbled “I love you”.

#my writings #KALSLSKNSBSKSKSNS IT’S HERE Y’ALL #sub!harry #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction

[tsukiihime]

Heartbreak Part 3 (Bakugou x Fem!Reader) (Shinsou x Fem!Reader)

Third part up! Now excuse me, I’m going to play Genshin Impact all weekend! Enjoy!

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Angst, arguments, swearing, drinking

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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You shriek in terror as a loud blaring sound emanates from the table in front of you - your heart nearly leaps out of your chest as the sudden noise coupled with the darkness and the horror movie playing in the background fries your nerves with fear. You hear Shinsou laugh in the background, in the kitchen grabbing more snacks as you wait in the dark for him to return. 

“Shut up, Hitoshi!” He smirks to himself - you used his full first name which means you’re angry at his teasing. He chuckles as he makes more popcorn and hears you shuffle out of your blanket cocoon to find the source of the noise. 

You find Shinsou’s black phone vibrating and ringing on the table in front of you under some magazines. On the screen flashes ‘Izuku Midoriya’ as a picture of the freckled boy and your best friend at their U.A graduation appears on the screen.

“‘Toshi! Midoriya’s calling! Want me to answer?” 

“Yeah, let him know I’m busy.”

“‘Kay.” You move to swipe right and answer the phone, but the call ends before you have the chance. On the lockscreen of Shinsou’s phone, the lock screen picture of you two at the Hero Rankings ceremony from two years ago is partially covered by a new banner: One missed call from Midoriya. 

“Oops, I missed it.” You set Hitoshi’s phone back down on his cedar coffee table, returning to wrap yourself back in your blanket as you spot fuzzy purple hair returning from the kitchen, popcorn bowl in hand as well as two cups full of water. “Sorry ‘Toshi, I didn’t answer in time.”

“S’alright, I’ll call him back after.” The two both of you turn your head to the phone as it vibrates on the table to let Shinsou know he’s got a text message, from the very person whose call he missed. “Hold on, lemme answer this…” He opens the message from him, cringing slightly as the bright screen blinds him in the total darkness. You help yourself to some popcorn as you wait for Shinsou to give you the signal to start the movie. 

From: Midoriya, sent at 10:39pm

Hey Shinsou! We’re having a small Class 1-A reunion at Shoto’s place this Friday - want to come? Everyone would love to see you! Let me know!

Shinsou leans back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. You cock your head in confusion. “What’s wrong ‘Toshi?”

“Class reunion at Shoto’s. Don’t wanna go.” He covers his face with his hands, groaning as he thinks of an excuse not to attend. 

“Why not? You haven’t seen Midoriya or the others in a long time.” Shinsou isn’t antisocial but he’s rather introverted; he prefers the company of cats and a few trusted friends over a loud party. Add in work and he basically only sees you on a regular basis. “I think you should go, it would do you some good.” Your purple haired friend looks at you sideways.

“Kaminari is gonna drink.” You snort, snickering at his aversion to the combination of the Stun Gun Hero and alcohol. Denki is one of the few people Shinsou gets along with despite his ditzyness, and Kaminari often tries to include Shinsou in mixers and parties much to his dismay. Last time Shinsou went drinking with Kaminari, they ended up in a pool with some of their classmates and in his drunken stupor, Kaminari almost activated  his quirk and fried everybody in the pool. Ever since then, Kaminari needs a designated partner to watch him when he drinks, which usually falls to Shinsou, Sero, or Kirishima. “And if he drinks, I can’t, which means I can’t enjoy myself.”

“Isn’t it Sero’s turn to watch him, since you did it last time? 

“Huh, you might be right. If I don’t have to watch that idiot, then I’ll probably go. Wanna come?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I wasn’t invited ‘Toshi. Besides...I didn’t attend U.A so it would be strange to have an outsider come around, right?” You give him a small smile to show you’re fine without going, but Shinsou knows better. You don’t want to go because you could run into Bakugou. He sighs, and turns to look at you. “Oh! Tell Denki and Sero I say ‘hello’. I miss playing video games with them when I used to go to parties.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll go and visit everyone. I’ll tell them you said hello. Now, can we get back to the movie? Your favorite part is coming up.” He snickers as you immediately dive under your blanket to avoid seeing the scene that makes you have nightmares every time it comes on. As you cower under the covers, Shinsou howls with laughter as you scream. 

You don’t even hear your phone ringing in the bedroom, faint and drowned out by you and Shinsou’s voices. A message flashes across the screen:

One missed call from Katsuki.

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Bakugou listens to your voicemail message play in his ear, despondent as you fail to pick up. He relishes in the opportunity to hear your voice again though, and closes his eyes as your message begins to play. 

“Hey! Sorry I’m not available to take your call at the moment. Please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible!” 

He can see you in his mind’s eye, lounging on the couch and flipping through channels as you try to find one of those true crime documentaries you love so much as you settle in for the night. Or maybe you’re busy with homework for school again, or staying late at work since you always wanted to work more hours to be more independent. He can see you crashing in bed after a long night - fuzzy cat hairband on your head holding back your hair, face freshly washed, wrapped in the yellow blanket you loved so much. His shoulders feel heavy as he solemnly trudges back to his group of friends, taking one last look at his lock screen before he returns inside: a picture of you and him at the arcade, with you beaming with happiness as you hold up a large stuffed bunny he won for you with all the tickets he earned that night. He wonders if you still have it.

His reminiscing is interrupted by an incoming call from Deku - a picture of Izuku and Katsuki appears on screen, taken at a school function in their third year of high school. He lets out a small ‘tch’ but answers the phone anyways. “What do you want you damn Deku?”

“Hey Kacchan,” Deku answers unfazed, “just wanted to let you know that Shoto’s having a reunion at his place this Friday - wanna come?” Katsuki sees Todoroki on and off for his Hero work, and he gets along with both Shoto and Izuku way better than he did in high school, even if the rivalry is still present - in his case anyways.

“Hell no.” Bakugou hangs up the phone, shoves it in his pocket, and angrily pulls open the door to return to the apartment of his friends. On the other side of the phone, Izuku smiles as knows Bakugou’s group of friends will drag him to the function whether he likes it or not. 

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When Friday rolls around, you busy yourself with laundry as Shinsou gets ready to attend the reunion at Todoroki’s downtown skyscraper apartment. You try not to think of your ex-boyfriend and the possibility that your best friend may run into him as you throw your clothes into the washing machine. You also try not to think of the fact that you received a call from Bakugou, a call you missed and didn’t have a voicemail attached to it. You contemplated calling him back to see what he wanted, but your pride and fear of rejection holds you back. So instead, you choose to act like it never happened - but your heart races every time a text or call notification thinking it’ll be from Katsuki. 

Your phone rests next to the washer on the shelf containing the laundry detergent and scent balls - it sits unlocked as you finish your first load of clothes. You pick it up, scrolling through the endless text as you try and find a new home. You’ve decided that you’ve overstayed your welcome at Shinsou’s apartment, and you’re now looking for one of your own. You’ve been working an insane amount of overtime, and now that you’ve raised your credit score, you feel ready to search for an apartment to call your own. Hitoshi of course has been protesting since he doesn’t feel that you’re a burden but you insist on getting out of his hair. It isn’t around and on the highest volume possible so you can answer the phone if Katsuki calls again, no siree. 

As you stare at your phone screen and walk back to the living room, you bump into Shinsou as he makes his way to grab his keys, knocking your phone to the floor. “Oh! Sorry ‘Toshi, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

“S’okay. I’m ‘bout to go, you need anything?” He bends over to pick up your cell and places it back in your hands. He’s wearing a dark green bomber jacket with a simple white v-neck underneath, complimented with black jeans and he holds a pair of Vans in his hands as he makes his way to the door. 

“I’m good, make sure you have fun, drive safe, and if you drink call me so I can get you, ‘kay?” You give him a quick hug, quickly noticing that he’s sprayed on some cologne. He smells amazing, but you wonder why a pang of jealousy courses through you when as you wonder why he put on cologne for a party full of friends. 

“Will do. See you later.” You see him off, locking the door behind him after he leaves. You return to the living room, alone and without plans. So, you decide to order some takeout, watch some Netflix, and stay up with your phone nearby in case Shinsou calls you for a ride.

It’s not so you can answer a call from Bakugou if he decides to call again. No way.

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Shoto’s apartment is the probably the swankiest place owned by any of the Class 1-A graduates - in the heart of downtown, with ceiling to floor windows overlooking the cityscape and a private rooftop. Shinsou feels out of place as he makes his way up in the elevator, meeting Ojiro and Hagakure on the way. He says his greetings, makes small talk, and finally arrives at his destination - Todoroki’s apartment. He says hello to everyone, and moves to grab a beer. Lilac eyes meet vermilion ones as he comes face to face with Bakugou for the first time since everything happened with you. The Bakusquad notice Bakugou’s icy expression and turn to see who has gained his ire; they’re surprised to see Shinsou standing at the end of their friend’s glare.

“Dude, what’s your problem with Shinsou?” Kaminari asks innocently. Mina and Sero shoot him a look, causing him to cock his head in confusion. He mouths a silent ‘what’ to Sero, Kirishima, and Mina, who mouths back your name. He instantly shuts up and changes the subject. Bakugou can’t hear what his blonde friend is saying though, because he’s too busy staring holes through Shinsou’s back. He’s never had a problem with Shinsou before he met you, but every time he looks at the purple haired man he can’t help but feel intense jealousy and anger that bubbles up from within. He imagines you wearing Shinsou’s clothes, and sleeping at Shinsou’s place and he can’t control the rage that comes with it. He abruptly stands, grabbing two beers and walks off.

“Hey, where are you going?” Kirishima asks.

“To get some fresh air dammit!” Bakugou opens the door to the rooftop and forcefully slams it shut. The Bakusquad share a look with one another. 

“He must still be hung up on her.” Denki states nonchalantly, and Mina elbows him in the stomach. 

“Of course he is, you idiot! He loved her more than anything. You saw how miserable he was when she left.” This statement catches Shinsou’s attention, and after excusing himself from his conversation with Izuku and Uraraka, follows the Explosion Hero to the rooftop.

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Although he tries to quietly sneak behind Bakugou as he makes his way to the rooftop, he fails miserably. “Why the hell are you following me Eye Bags?” 

“Huh, didn’t think you’d hear me. I was wondering why you were out here to drink by yourself. I take it you didn’t want to see me?” Bakugou turns around, veins popping out on his forehead as he gazes upon Shinsou in distaste. 

“Of course I didn’t want to see you, you damn extra. You got rocks for brains or somethin’?” Shinsou keeps an even expression as he faces down Bakugou as the sounds of the city play below them. “Well, why are you following me?” He repeats, crossing his arms.

“I just wanted to get some fresh air.” He lies, moving to the railing next to Bakugou, who looks at him with caution. The two men stand in silence, occasionally sipping from their beers as they watch the city they protect from on high. After what seems like an eternity, one of them breaks the tension and silence.

“How is she?” Shinsou looks sideways to see Bakugou staring at his beer can, emotions unreadable as he takes another swig. 

“Fine. A lot better than before. She’s thinkin’ of moving into her own place by next month. Told her she could stay with me until she’s ready but she’s insisting on moving out.” Bakugou’s eyebrow twitches in envy, and it takes almost all of his energy to hold back his tongue. 

“Good for her. She’s always been independent like that.” He slightly smiles as he recalls how self-sufficient you are, working hard to get what you want in your work, school, and love. He quickly wipes it off his face though so Shinsou can’t see.

“Yeah, too bad people take her for granted sometimes.” He knows it’s a low blow but he can’t help himself - Bakugou deserves it for treating you the way he did. “Can’t believe you’d fuck up something so good with someone like her.” Bakugou narrows his eyes in displeasure, his rationality hanging on by a thin thread as he convinces himself to not punch Shinsou in his face because you’d be upset if Hitoshi came home with a black eye and bloody nose. Katsuki decides to let that comment slide - he’s not as hot headed as he once was - and continues the conversation.

“I tried callin’ her last week. She didn’t answer.” He doesn’t know why he says it out loud, but he can’t stop the words from leaving his lips.

“Oh? She didn’t tell me.” Katsuki’s blood boils, and his jealousy reaches its breaking point after he hears that. Shinsou is taken aback by his words though - why didn’t you tell him? You tell him everything - even if it seems minute. He’s a bit hurt that you would hide that from him, but he stops it from showing on his face.

“And why would she? You’re not her boyfriend. You’re just a friend.” Shinsou bristles visibly at that statement - he can’t hide his discontent from showing on his face as Bakugou points out what he already knows. He is just a friend in your eyes, someone who you can count on no matter what. But the lingering touches, the ghost of your lips on his forehead, the cuddling he can’t help but desire - he wants more. He wants you in a way he can’t have, and he feels horrible for desiring you in this way when your heart has been broken. His face grimaces as the guilt creeps up his throat - he wants and yet he can’t tell you. He craves you in a way he’s never had for anyone else and at the worst possible time, his once innocent friendship with his childhood friend has devolved into longing and pining for you when you are emotionally unavailable. Bakugou watches closely as Shinsou’s face changes from his words, and his eyes widen as he puts two and two together.

“You bastard, you’re in love with her.” Bakugou says it low, growling it out through clenched teeth. Shinsou is taken aback for a second - he loves you of course, but is he in love with you? He thinks back on his life and sees you always next to him: smiling, encouraging him, holding him when he’s had a bad day, studying with him when there was a big exam coming up, calling to congratulate him when he entered U.A, and catching a train to see him graduate the Hero course. There’s no doubt in his mind - you’ve been a staunch supporter of his dreams and ambitions and he can’t see a life where you’re ever away from him. Like a puzzle, everything clicks into place. He knows it from the bottom of his heart, the deepest recesses of his soul.

He loves you. Deeply, truly, with every fiber of his being. He’s in love with you, his best friend.

“And if I am?” Vermilion eyes narrow, teeth grinding as he clenches his fists. Bakugou looks Shinsou straight in his eyes, fury radiating from every single pore of his body.

“You droopy eyed bastard. How long have you been waiting to swoop in and take her away from me? Just waiting for me to mess up, haah?” His words are dripping with venom, little sparks shooting out of his open palms. Shinsou isn’t sure if Bakugou will attack him or not, but he can sense that the blonde is so pissed he could blow up the entire rooftop. He backs away from the railing, never turning his back to Explosion Hero.  “How many times have you comforted her just hoping she’d give you the time of day? You think you’ll be able to make her happy Eye Bags? You may be her best friend, but I ain’t gonna sit here and let you talk down to me like you know all about what she and I had. There’s no one else for me and you know it.”

Shinsou sneers, staring at the man in front of him with disdain. “Bullshit. I was at your apartment Bakugou, I know for damn sure she isn’t the only thing on your mind.” Bakugou’s eye twitches in white hot rage.

“Haaah? What bullshit are you on now jackass? Making up stories to make yourself feel better for falling in love with my girl?” Shinsou narrows his eyes in irritation, envisioning your face as he holds you the night you saw Bakugou at the Hero Rankings, as you sob into his chest as he pets your hair. He recalls making you food, leaving it out for you to eat before he goes to patrol and coming home to find it untouched. He remembers how he had to remind you how beautiful you were, how the comments about your body and looks on social media didn’t mean anything because you were perfect just the way you are. Bakugou didn’t see how broken you were, how he shattered your heart and left you to pick up the pieces while he hopped from bar to bar and brought a date to the award ceremonies when he wouldn’t even acknowledge your existence as his girlfriend. 

“I was there at the apartment when she went to pick up her things. You had some underwear in your bedroom. She saw it, and I did too. Now, who did that belong to Bakugou?” He smirks, watching as the face of the blonde in front of him contorts in confusion and regret, now realizing that you had seen his almost one night stand’s underwear when you came to grab your things only a couple of days after you broke up. “Was it some girl you met while bar hopping? Or was it Camie’s? I didn’t know you had a thing for her.” 

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up. You don’t know shit.” Bakugou runs a hand through his spikes, a combination of shame and hurt painting his features. He looks up, glaring at the purple haired man in front of him. “You don’t know what it’s like. To have the person you love walk out on you and to know that you fucked up. I didn’t want to think about her, about us.” His lips purse together, his nose and throat become itchy as tears threaten to spill over at any moment. “I just wanted to forget, okay?! Is that what you wanna hear you bastard? I didn’t want to spend all night thinking about her!” He’s yelling now, his voice reverberating from the rooftop, spreading out into the city under the moonlit sky. Shinsou’s eyes widen in surprise at Bakugou’s outburst, lilac orbs staring unblinking at the man in front of him. He doesn’t think Katsuki is lying, he never hesitates to say what he thinks about anyone, whether they be a friend or a foe. 

“Whose underwear was it?” Shinsou asks lowly, bracing himself for his answer.

“Don’t remember her name. It was a girl from the bar, reminded me of her. I made her leave before anything physical happened. I only kissed her. Didn’t even know she left her clothes.” Bakugou recalls that night, alcohol coursing through his body, craving body heat and another person’s touch. He swallows thickly, imagining your face as you find that foreign underwear in the room you once shared, quickly dispelling that thought from his mind when he remembers your heartbroken expression.

“And what about Camie? I wasn’t home when the rankings aired,” Shinsou crosses his arms as he leans against the edge of the rooftop, “but I know she saw it.” Bakugou grits his teeth in anguish - how much hurt had he caused you without even knowing? How many nights had you cried while thinking he had moved on? He was such a damn fool.

“We went as friends. She wanted to make Inasa jealous enough to make a move on her. I didn’t think,” Bakugou looks up to stare at the lavender eyes boring into him, “...didn’t think she’d be watching. She always hated that kinda shit.” Shinsou’s eyebrows knit together in anger, red flashing in his vision as his entire body shakes as he clenches his fists to calm the fury bubbling up in his chest.

“She hated it because you never used to take her to one. God, you are such a fucking idiot Bakugou! That’s why she left you! You are selfish. You cared more about your damn rank and your stupid one sided rivalry with Deku that you couldn’t even tell the world you had someone you loved. When those people attacked her on social media, you didn’t lift a damn finger to stop the hate she was getting. You listened to your agency like a damn puppet, and let her take the fall. When all she did was love you. It wasn’t even about the attention of being a Hero’s girlfriend, she just wanted you to be proud of having her by your side, to have you not be afraid to show the world you cared about her. But you didn’t. She’s given you so much but you don’t even care. You can’t even get your head out of your ass to-”

“You don’t think I care? I’ve regretted not telling her how much she meant to me that night! I regret letting her leave that night in the rain, and I sure as hell regret letting her cry herself to sleep all those nights!” Bakugou’s hands squeeze in fists, nails digging into his palms and teeth grinding together as he wills himself not to cry.

“I never, never wanted to make her feel like she wasn’t good enough. I never ever wanted to be the one to make her cry. You don’t think I’d take it all back if I could? I miss her Shinsou, is that what you want to fucking hear? I miss her.”  The spiky haired blonde refuses to let Shinsou see him cry, holding back tears while scarlet orbs stare into purple ones. “I’ve missed her since she left and I fucking miss her more everyday. I’m not an idiot, I know I fucked up bad.” Shinsou’s expression softens slightly, he can sense that Bakugou’s telling the truth and he can hear the regret in his shaky voice. He sighs, looking down at his shoes. 

“Look, I may have feelings for her, but she doesn’t know and I don’t care to let her find out - not now anyway. I’m not trying to ruin your relationship or hurt your chances at getting back together because I know she loves you.” Shinsou rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I let my anger get the best of me tonight. I’ll leave you up here to get some fresh air. I’m going back to our friends, I’ll let them know not to bother you.” Bakugou nods, and turns silently around to continue overlooking the city as his eyes burn from the sting of tears. Shinsou leaves, and after he hears the door close, Bakugou lets the tears he’s held back flow freely from his eyes as he remains on the rooftop. 

Sniffling, he stares at the streets below while he tries to get his emotions under control - the great Katsuki Bakugou will not be seen crying - especially not in front of his friends. He feels a vibration in his pocket, and considers ignoring it, thinking it’s Kirishima or Kaminari calling him to come back. He pulls out his phone to deny the call.

Instead of Kaminari, he sees your name flash across the screen.

#bnha #bnha x you #bnha x fem!reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #hitoshi shinsou x reader #shinsou x reader #shinso x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #katsuki bakugou x y/n #hitoshi shinso x y/n #katsuki bakugo x y/n #hitoshi shinsou x y/n #mha x reader #my writing

[aliciaandandrea]

Family Friend - Zayn Oneshot Part 2 (FULL)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Damn okay it has been 7 years since I posted the part 2 preview of this oneshot. I haven’t been active on tumblr for a couple of years so this might be weird for my new followers, and I don’t even know if people still read smut now a days. But I’ve gotten notifications about people liking the posts on this series plus I received messages about the full part 2 of this series over the years. So to those people who messaged me and/or for those people who wanted an update, this is for you (just a disclaimer: I was 18 when I wrote the preview and am now 25...so if this is cringy or you think I’ve lost my touch, I apologize LOL):

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It has been a week since the cottage and I haven’t heard from Zayn since. I should have saw it coming. We almost hooked up, but I’m glad we didn’t, especially with that attitude of his. I was going through my phone and I decided to text Shawn, who’s been my crush before Zayn entered back into the picture.

“Heyy Shawn…” I texted him. “Hey Y/N :) Whats up?” he texted back. “Bored as always, you?” I asked “Same, I feel like we haven’t hung out at all this summer :(” he wrote. “lol thats because we haven’t” I texted. “Well let me make it up to you. My friend and his gf are goin to the movies tonight and asked if I wanted to go…I don’t wanna be the third wheel…do you wanna join?”he texted me. Did this guy just ask me out? “I’d love to :), just text me the details.” I texted back. And he did just that. I put on my low cut grey graphic tank with a black bralette under it and my black maxi skirt, while putting my hair up in a half up-do and keeping my makeup natural.

Before I could touch up my doorbell rang. I opened the door thinking it was Shawn but then stormed inside Zayn with no explanation. “What do you want?” I said bitterly as I closed the door after he walked inside. “You can’t fucking call me back?” he said looking at me. “What the hell are you talking about Zayn” I said walking up to him. “What do you call this?” he said tossing me his phone. On the screen was his call log, He’s called me once every day, except..that wasn’t my number. It was a fake one I gave as a joke when he asked for it one day. “Zayn that's not my number,” I said giving back his phone. “What the fuck is your problem then? You know I have fucking feelings for you !” He said fed up. I didn't know what to say. He just told me he had feelings for me. “Zayn..I..” I said trying to hold his hand but he pulled it away and turned away from me. “Fine. You wanna behave like that go ahead. And don't fucking tell me that I’m playing you. You’ve been teasing me ever since you found out that I liked you and then you almost hookup with me leaving me with a hickey that was hard to explain at dinner with mine and your parents and then you don't even fucking talk or try to reach out to me in a week. Don’t you even go there.” I said angrily. At this point we were both pissed. We managed to both profess our feelings and hatred towards each other…all at the same time. We were going to either end up fucking on my couch or wrestle on it. “Did you not see the phone calls that I supposedly made out to you. And why the fuck have I been hearing from people that you’ve been sleeping around with other guys?” “What the fuck Zayn? You hear anything you want to believe don't you. This entire time I’ve been thinking of you, you idiot.” I said as he chuckled. He composed himself then stared at me, “Where the fuck are you going?” “To the movies..with Shawn.” I said looking down. “And this is what I’m talking about, you’re going out with a loser and trying to get laid with that outfit.” he said as his body tensed up, looking up and down at me. At that point I was pissed, but I was not going to let that jerk ruin my night. We both stared at each other angrily. My ringtone broke the silence, Shawn was calling me. “Hey Shawn,” I said out loud for Zayn to here as I glared at him. He shot me an irritated look. “Yeah I’ll be there soon, can’t wait to finally see you,” I flirted with Shawn making Zayn jealous. “Yeah its been a long time,” I said as I ‘accidentally’ put my phone on speaker so Zayn could hear. “Maybe you could stay over for breakfast,” Shawn joked but that's when Zayn snapped. He grabbed my phone, hung it up and threw it onto the couch. He looked at me with a lustful look as I furrowed my eyebrows at him, but was secretly loving the fact that he was jealous. Jealous Zayn was probably my favorite Zayn. “That’s it,” he growled at me as he threw me over his shoulder. “Zayn put me down!! What the fuck are you doing??” I said playing victim, even though I knew what he was going to do. “Something I should have done a long time ago.” Zayn said as he kicked the door shut and threw me onto my bed. “I don’t know what you think you’re about to do right now, but I’ve got a date to get to tonight” I said eyeing him as he climbed on top of me. “Yeah?”. Zayn asked as he bit my bottom lip causing me to let out a little whimper, “What was his name again?”, Zayn asked as he was kissing my jawline and biting the sensitive area. I blanked out for a good few seconds, wanting to wrap my legs around him and pull him closer, but I couldn’t let him win this one. “Ohh yess Shawn..” I moaned to irritate Zayn while pulling his hair. He stared me down but before we could continue, the doorbell rang. “Fuck”, Zayn said as he got off me. Zayn got to the door before I could and of course there was Shawn looking confused as to why there was a man at my house with disheveled hair.

“Hey Y/N..” Shawn said to me, as Zayn stared daggers. “Can we help you?” Zayn asked, "We’re in the middle of something important, so it’d be great if you can, I don’t know, fuck off?” he continued with a smirk. “Sorry, Shawn, I’m ready we can go,” I said to him before turning back to get my bag. “I don’t know where you think you’re going,” Zayn said looking at me before turning back to Shawn. “You know what, maybe we can go out another time, I didn’t realize - ...” Shawn started to say before getting rudely interrupted by Zayn who said “Didn’t realize what? That she already had a boyfriend? Fuck off now will you.” Zayn shuts the door on Shawn, and blocks me from trying to open it.

“What the fuck are you doing Zayn?” I asked trying to move him to open the door. He gently grabs my wrists and looked into my eyes, “We need to finish what we started”, he says hungrily. I manage to free my wrists, push Zayn against the door, then proceed to walk away from him, “In your dreams“ I say flipping him off from behind me. Before I know it Zayn has picked me up bridal style and is taking me back to my bed. We’ve reached a point where we both want this to happen, as deep down we knew something had to be done with the intense sexual tension between us. I was torn between wanting to fuck like wild animals vs wanting to make slow and passionate love, to take our time and explore each other with the limited time frame we had. As if he read my mind, “Slow or rough?” Zayn asks as we arrive at the foot of the bed.

“Both”, I said as Zayn dropped me on top of the bed for the 2nd time tonight. He stood over me, slowly taking off his Denim Jacket, leaving him in his baggy grey t-shirt and black jeans. I looked at him impatiently, wanting to help him get out of his clothes, but he just smirked at me and said “Well, you said both”. Fine, he can take his time, but I’m not gonna wait any longer as I knew my parents were coming back home from their night out. I knelt on the bed in-front of him taking off my low cut grey graphic tank revealing the lacy black bralette under it, then pushed my girls into him aching for him to touch me. But he just stood there staring into my eyes, as he took off his baggy grey t-shirt. “What is he doing”, I thought to myself, “What are WE doing, playing follow the leader?”. It was getting too much for me, I needed him. I grabbed his face but decided to tease him by gently having our lips barely touch. “We don’t have much time, my parents might come home soon”, I whispered against his lips, desperate for him to give in. “What?” he said pulling back a little. “My parents might be home soon, plus -” Zayn stops me from continuing. “I want to take my time with you. And I know you need all of me. If we’re going to this, I don’t want a few minutes with you, I want you for as long as I can have you.” Zayn says holding my face. Look I know I could have shut my mouth and not brought up the fact that my parents were going to come home soon, but I couldn’t risk having them walk in on us like they almost had when we were at the cottage.

We both redressed and I walked Zayn to the door, as I needed Zayn to leave before my parents got back. “Can I have your actual number this time?” Zayn said as he pulled out his phone. I giggled and put my real number with a kiss and rose emoji as part of my contact name. “I’ll text you,” Zayn says before he opens the door. “Wait,” I said. Before I knew it I pushed him against the door again but this time I kissed him. We began making out, taking turns biting each others lips and teasing each other with our tongues. We tried to pull each other closer; I pulled on his hair as he groped me making me moan and whimper. We couldn’t get enough of each other, as we got lost in our little foreplay. All of a sudden, I heard a familiar honk, and a set of keys jiggling on the other side of the door. Fucking hell, my parents were home...

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LIKE/MESSAGE ME FOR PART 3 IF YOU WANT !

Link to part 1: http://aliciaandandrea.tumblr.com/post/92086930206/family-friend-zayn-oneshot

#zayn smut #zayn malik smut #zayn imagine #zayn malik imagine #zayn malik one shot #zayn oneshot #zayn one shot #zayn thirst #zayn malik thirst #zayn malik preference #zayn malik preferences #zayn preference #zayn malik #smut #one direction #1d #one direction smut #1d smut #dirty zayn #dirty zayn malik #dirty zayn malik imagine #dirty zayn imagine #zaynsmut #zayn feels #zayn malik feels #hate to love #love to hate #zayn malik masterlist #zayn masterlist

[mggssocks]

Followed

Not My Gif!

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Content Warnings: None just fluff :)

Summary: Spencer makes an Instagram and stumbles across reader’s page.

Word Count: 1,899 words

A/N: This is Season 10 Spencer with Season 13 looks. Also, instead of it being Kate on the team, i put Emily instead because who doesn’t love the season 3-7 team? Also I might make a part 2 depending on how much this blows up. Honestly i’d be happy if i got one like. Anyways.. hope you enjoy!!!

masterlist // part 2 // part 3

It was 8:00 in the morning. Spencer walked in the doors of the bullpen to the bau. He sat his satchel down and began to settle in for a long day of work. It was pretty early so the team wasn’t in yet. Except for Aaron Hotchner who had gotten in an hour prior to Spencer and been in his office ever since. Apparently others had the same ‘get to work early’ mindset as Spencer. Spencer opened a case file but his attention was quickly whipped away due to the sound of the door opening. He sees Penelope Garcia with all her attention focused on her phone. Spencer quirked his eyebrows when she bumped into a fellow coworker and her attention remained on her phone while quickly mumbling a quick “sorry”. As she passed his desk, Spencer decided it would be the great time to speak. 

“Hey, Garcia.” Her feet came to a stop and her head snapped up at him. 

“Boy wonder! I’m so glad you’re here. I really need someone to talk to because if I don’t I’m going to explode!” She sits in the chair across from his desk. 

“Is everything alright?” He leaned back in his chair. 

“No… no everything is not alright. If anything.. everything is all wrong. Very very wrong. I-“ she takes in a deep breath “I was stalking Kevin’s page because the other day I seen him at the mall with another girl. And while I was 56 weeks down in his page, I accidentally liked a picture.” She explained, in a huff. 

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” Spencer was even more confused now than before she started. 

“I liked a picture that he posted 56 weeks ago!” Her eyes were wide.

“How is that a bad thing?” His lips pouted as he’d never understand social media. 

“Ugh! Reid, you really need to get with the program and get you an Instagram. That means his picture was old and now he knows that I was looking at his page. You understand now?” She asked. 

“Oh. Yeah I understand. It’s bad that he knows you were looking at his page.” He asked as Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan had walked in. 

“Yes. And now I must go into the bat cave and wait for him to call or text me and ask what me lurking on his page was about.” She whined as she stomped her way to her office. 

“What was that about?” Prentiss asked, setting her bags down on her desk. 

“Uhh- rough morning” Spencer shrugged, still not really understanding the whole social media thing. 

“Hey do you guys have an Instagram?” He asked the three. 

“Yeah but I’m barely on it.” Prentiss answered.

“Same here” says Morgan as he takes a seat at his desk. 

“Yeah but I only get on to post the boys and myself sometimes” answers JJ. 

“What about Hotch and Rossi?” He asked.

“Yup! Rossi likes to post about his expensive wine and cigars. Hotch posts Jack every once in a while and a throwback Thursday.” JJ says. 

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed for what seems to be the 100th time that day. 

“He doesn’t know what that is” Prentiss looks over to JJ.

“It’s something you post like an old picture of yourself every Thursday.” Morgan explains.

“Do you guys do that?” Spencer asked.

“I did last Thursday.” JJ pulls out her phone and opened the app. “This was right after Emily, Penelope, and I caught a guy who was trying to pick up Prentiss by pretending to be an FBI agent a few years ago.” She chuckled showing him a picture. 

Spencer takes her phone in his hand and examines the post. 142 likes. 57 comments. He clicks on her name which takes it to her page. 302 followers. As he scrolls, he sees a picture the team took a while ago and sees a little person profile thing the corner and clicks on it causing other names tagged to each individual team member. Except him. After he examined all of their profiles, he gives JJ back her phone and gets to work like the rest of them. He felt a little left out but he knew it was because of his own decisions and not his team. He liked that they didn’t press him about having a social media because they new he was more old school than anything. And it was ironic because he wastage youngest member of the team with the more old school habits. 

When Spencer got home he decided he wanted the social media app. The idea of being able to share with his friends and only his friends excited him. Being able to post about his favorite things for his friends to see without talking their ears off.

He opened his phone and went to the app store, typing “instagram” into the search bar. He followed the sites instructions as he made his account. Using a snapshot he took of his bookshelf as his profile picture. He sees the option to add the people in his contact list which was only his team, mom, and his mother’s caretaker. But everyone’s profile popped up and he quickly followed each and every one of them. Except for his mom and her caretaker of course. 

Soon enough, he got a follow back from Garcia, Hotch, Rossi, and JJ in that order. Morgan and Prentiss weren’t lying when they said they weren’t on often.

After two weeks, Spencer hasn’t posted anything yet, not knowing what should go on his profile. Morgan and Prentiss ended up following him back and the app ended up adjusting to his interests. Nothing but accounts about interesting facts, books, and doctor who. 

It was Friday night and the team had just got back from a case in Chicago. Spencer opened the door to his apartment and set his satchel down on the couch, exhausted. His mind wonders to get something to eat being that he wonders to get something to eat being that he hasn’t ate since before they caught the unsub. Which was about 5 hours and 7 minutes ago but he still needed to get something into his system. Spencer opened his fridge and sees 3 day old Chinese takeout. He shrugs and pops it into the microwave while looking for a book of his to reread while he eats. After he finishes dinner, he gets on his phone and subconsciously pulls up the app. He clicks onto his explore page to discover something else he likes. While scrolling, he sees a picture of someone reading and clicks on it.

765 likes

Yourfriend’sig whenever people ask me what to give you for your birthday or Christmas, I always tell them to get you a book or something green and it works every single time. Happy Birthday to my best buddy, @yourinstagram !

View all 84 comments

Spencer smiles and clicks the heart button and bookmarks it to look at later.  He liked the picture. Both the picture and caption reminded him a lot of his own love for books and the color green (hence his apartment). 

Once he got out of the shower, he brushed his teeth. He found himself subconsciously scrolling through his instagram bookmarks to find her post. He doesn’t know what it was but something about the picture brought comfort to him. As he brushed his teeth, he clicked on the post once again.This time, he actually clicked on your account. It was a private account with 186 followers. The bio read:

Y/N... bookworm.

Her profile picture consisted of a black cat surrounded by either a bunch of well taken care of plants or artificial ones. His finger hovered over the blue “follow” button. As he bent down to spit his toothpaste out, his thumb accidentally clicked the follow button. But he didn't realize so until he looked down again to see the “follow” button replaced with “requested”. His heart basically drops out of his ass. He quickly clicks the button again, taking back his follow. 

It was now one in the morning, Spencer laid in bed awake staring at his ceiling. Once again, he clicks onto the app. He scrolled down his timeline and saw a picture Penelope posted of one of her new desk animals with the caption “Got her at a thrift shop! Isn’t she cute??”. He saw that Hotch and JJ liked 45 other people. JJ also commented with two red hearts. Spencer likes the post and keeps scrolling. His thoughts wander to the post about the girl again. He’s never thought about a social media post this much since he’s created an account. He wonders what sparked his interest so much about this one. As he makes his way to the post, clicking on her account. Debating if he should follow her. She’s a total stranger. Do the others follow strangers? There’s no way JJ knows 302 people in real life. He mentally shrugs and presses the follow button. Requested. Again.

He swipes out of her account back onto the post now seeing that she commented on it.

yourinstagram thank you, bubs! ily to the moon n back <3333

It was commented thirty six seconds ago. Meaning she’s currently active. Again, Spencer’s heart sinks and he immediately regrets his decision. Going back and unfollowing her. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s a mess. Over a stranger. But he feels like an idiot. Reacting the way that he did just because he saw that she was online. So he goes and follows her.... again.

After clearing out all of his apps, he turns off his phone and lays down trying to get some sleep before work in a few hours. His thoughts wander to her. What she was like. if she was nice or mean. If she was socially awkward or very outgoing. Before his thoughts could get too far into what she was like, he receives a notification from instagram. He opens his phone and clicks on the notification. His heart began to pound when he saw it.

yourinstagram would like to send you a message! 

He clicks on it.

yourinstagram You’ve followed and unfollowed me about 5 times in the past 3 hours. Is there something I can help you with?

Spencer completely forgot that other people got notifications and now he felt like some kind of creep.

spencerreid I’m sorry. I came across your friend’s Instagram post wishing you a happy birthday and i guess i got curious and wanted to follow you if that makes any sense. 

He felt so dumb. 

yourinstagram and following me once wasn’t enough for some reason???

spencerreid Sorry about that. I’m new to this whole social media thing and don’t follow any strangers. You are the first person I’m following that I don’t know in real life. Again, my apologies for the disturbance. I’ll unfollow you’re account If you’re uncomfortable with me. 

yourinstagram i just hope that you’re not one of my raging exes, someone trying to catfish me, or a psychopath lol.

Spencer smiled.

spencerreid Nope. Just me.

She leaves him one read. Spencer’s smile fades when he doesn’t see any three loading dots. She wasn’t texting him back. As he’s about to exit the app, he sees two notifications. 

yourinstagram has accepted your follow request!

yourinstagram has requested to follow you.

********

I hoped you like this!!! If this blows up,i will do another chapter!

#spencer reid #dr reid #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #matt simmons #david rossi #cm #emily prentiss #jennifer jereau #penelope gracia #luke alvez #tara lewis #elle greenaway #spencer reid x you #cat adams