#especially as i imagine a couple would be near his joints

[fruitageoforanges]

loving each other won’t save us, but it won’t hurt either…

my two favourite underrated knights, sir urry and sir lavain. i was struck by how close they seem in the closing part of the morte, particularly how they stick by each other and lancelot as everything starts to unravel. thus, an imagined moment during the siege of joyous guard.

#scribbles #arthuriana #medieval literature #thomas malory #le morte darthur #le morte d'arthur #sir urry of the mount #sir lavain #in terms of urry’s wounds/scars #i imagine they healed hypertrophically/maybe even keloid #with an excess of scar tissue given how long they were trying to heal for #so they still cause him problems #especially as i imagine a couple would be near his joints #given the areas most likely to get actually wounded as opposed to bludgeoned #are those near the joints ie weak points of the armour #places where it was only mail no plate #oops i forgot to put scars on lavain #but i imagine he has a few too

[boliv-jenta]

No outbreak Joel Miller x inexperienced f!reader

Dave York x inexperienced f!reader

WC:3.2k

Summary: Dave and Joel make your birthday party memorable.

Warnings: Dub con. Dark Joel. Dave being Dave. Unprotected P in V sex. Anal. Degradation. Dirty talk.

Trigger warning: implying women who dress a certain way are asking for men to use them. That is obviously bullshit. This is fiction.

Summer Schooled

Part 1 | Part 2

Masterlist

The party was going well. People were enjoying themselves. You were enjoying yourself, for the most part. The night would be a lot more comfortable for you if your panties weren't soaked through. Going up to your room to change them was too great a risk with Joel's words ringing in your ears "Just you wait until I find a way to get you alone."

Those words had been whispered in your ear when he'd greeted you with a hug to wish you a Happy Birthday. Since you had only lived here for the summer and you only had a handful of friends, your mom had decided to invite the neighbourhood. A little joint birthday/off to college/get to know the neighbours party. Unfortunately, you already knew a couple of neighbours particularly well. One was giving you daggers from the moment he saw the dress you were wearing. The other caught you in the kitchen grabbing a soda.

"I think I'd better renegotiate my terms with Joel. You are begging to be fucked in that dress. What do you say? I'll tell Carol I have to go into the office. Then I'll give you a birthday treat?"

Luckily, the hand Dave had been running up the back of your thigh moved to grab a snack when someone came in behind you.

Since then, you had been very careful not to be alone. You didn't trust either man not to follow you and fuck you with people around. More importantly you didn't trust yourself to say no.

The playlist you'd picked seemed to be a winner. People were dancing as well as mingling and talking. You got on the makeshift dance floor to take a spin round it. Thankfully neither Dave or Joel were there to watch at that point. Part of you hoped they had skulked off to jerk themselves off. Maybe then they'd calm down. The testosterone coming off them in waves every time a boy your age came near you was ruining your underwear. Thankfully, the two of them were out of sight. You took a moment to collect yourself, leaning on the wall just inside the kitchen and letting the tiled surface of it cool you. A smile was on your face as you watched your mom have a go at the latest Tiktok dance.

Suddenly, the room was plunged into near darkness. The music stopped. Confused voices took its place.

"The lights are on across the way. It must be the breaker." You heard your mom's voice.

Just as people started to switch on their phone flashlights, a large hand clamped over your mouth. A strong arm wrapped around your waist. In tandem, they pulled you back into the walk-in pantry. Those hands then moved to squeeze your breasts. A small gasp torn from your throat. They then skimmed down your curves until they found your thighs. Before moving up to cup your wet sex through the damp material there. You should have stopped him. People were only a few feet away. Then his finger dipped inside you, stretching you around them. His other hand found your clit. Making you work harder to keep in your moans. His lips found your bare shoulder. Plush, warm lips. A clean shaven cheek dragged across your skin as he moved to your neck.

"Dave?!" Panic flared in you. You tried to pull away but he spread his fingers and kept you speared there.

"Sshhh. Not so loud. You don't want people to find us. Especially not Joel, who I know did this to ruin your party and get you away from those boys." That was your thinking too. That's why you had assumed it was Joel who grabbed you. "What a naughty boy. We should teach him a lesson. Imagine how mad he'll be when he comes to play with this little cunt and it's already filled with my cum again? I bet he'd punish you real well."

You didn't have to tell Dave your view on that. Your pussy did it for you, leaking onto his hand. "Dirty fucking girl! I'm going to keep your mouth covered. You play with that clit nice and fast. I'm going to use your tight pussy to get this done quickly before he comes looking."

This was a bad choice and you knew it. The journey down that rabbit hole was well underway. Between last night and Joel teaching you how to sixty-nine this morning, you might as well be fucked in a pantry with your mom a few feet away. There was no redeeming you now.

Dave's cock was at your entrance before you knew it. He had the courtesy to pull your hips back slowly to push inside. Everything was still tender from last night. Even your jaw ached, which didn't seem to matter. Dave didn't seem like he was going to kiss you. This was more a functional fucking. He was going to fill you and send you to Joel. You had to admit when he was goal oriented, Dave got the job done. He'd pulled you up onto your tipple toes and squatted down a little so he could angle towards your g-spot. His thrusts were hard and fast but not without purpose. Your hand worked with them to get you off fast. Surprisingly so as you shuddered in his grip.

"Fuck. Yes. Dirty girl, soaking my cock. Fuck, bend over." Dave near bent you in two and started fucking you faster as you grabbed the wall above your head to steady you. "Shit. This tight little cunt takes my big, fat cock so well…I…." The quiet whine that left him made you flutter around him.

It was thrilling to make a big intimidating man weak for you. He continued to moan as he pumped more of his spend into you before dragging your underwear back up. You were just fixing your dress as the lights came back on. Turning to Dave you watched him tuck his cock back in and fix his outfit.

For a moment from the way he looked at you, you thought he might kiss you instead he grabbed your pussy. "Keep these on until Joel peels them off." Then he was gone. Giving it what you thought was enough time. You slipped out of the pantry only to run into your mom.

"There you are, Sweetie. Are you okay?" She cradled your cheek for a second. "Yeah, I was just getting more sauces when the lights went out."

"Oh. Well, it's fixed now. Joel took care of it. He's such a good neighbour. Oh, Sweetie, it looks like you spilled something on your dress. What is that? Ranch?" Before she looked closer. One of her friends came to grab her attention.

When she moved away you could see Joel standing behind her, seething at the fact that you were definitely not covered in ranch.

"My friend invited me to a bar. I might go after I tidy up. If that's okay with you? Your friends can stay over. Dave and the Morgans are going to be home if you need anything."

Just before you moved here, your mom got out of a crappy marriage to your step dad. She still made you her number one priority but you could see she was lonely. "Go now, Mom. We'll clean up." A couple of the people milling around agreed."

Dr and Mrs Morgan helped to clean up quickly with their son who was a little younger than you. When you finished you made sure to thank them all. Joel helped too. In fact he insisted on staying to help as he waved the Morgans off. "It's fine Melissa. You get your boy home. Sarah went back off to her spa weekend with the York girls. I got time."

Thankfully most of the tidying was done when Joel stalked back into the kitchen. Stopping short of you he pulled up a chair. "Now, Honey, are there some things you'd like to tell me?"

"Like what?" You didn't meet his gaze.

"How about you wearing this dress around those boys? And having one stay to help you?"

A laugh bubbled out of you. "Josh? His mom's aren't the only ones that are gay."

"The kids still young, he might be looking to experiment, and there you are in that slutty little outfit, parading around in front of him with a cum stain on it."

"I…" your cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Now, why don't you tell me about Dave? Did I not suck that pussy hard enough this morning that you had to throw it on his dick?" His tone was eerily calm despite his words. "Take it off."

"What?"

"Take it off." There was a bite there now. "Take all of it off. The slutty fucking dress. The cum filled panties. Take. It. Off."

A tremor developed in your hands as you complied. Once you were naked in front of him. He leaned back in his chair.

"Now, what am I going to do with you?" He fished your panties from on top of your discarded dress. He held them in one hand as he spoke. "Did you enjoy taking Dave's cock again?"

When you didn't answer he slammed his fist onto the table. He didn't scare you but the shock of it forced out an answer. "Yes!"

"He told me he made you touch yourself until you came. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Show me."

"What?"

"Sit your ass on the edge of this table. Spread your legs and show me how you touched yourself for him."

Once you were situated he pulled his chair up between your legs. "Go on."

Hesitantly you began to touch your clit. "Joel, the door isn't locked. The windows."

The blinds were still open in the kitchen. Anyone could see.

Joel laughed bitterly. "You've paraded that barely covered ass around. Your tits were almost spilling out and a married man fucked you in the kitchen with people a few feet away. It's a bit late to be modest. This is what I was talking about. You need to whore fucked out of you before you end up on your knees in some college circle jerk having a bunch of boys blow their loads over you."

Nodding you carried on working your clit. Thanks to earlier it did take long for you to come again. Shrinking under Joel intense gaze you barely made a sound. A little whimper came out as you quivered.

"Look at that." Joel's face was inches away from your pussy now. "Those little twitches are pumping all of Dave's cum out. It'd be a shame to waste it." With that he stood, pushing you back onto the table. The motion parted your legs and he slipped in between them. One of his hands pushed your thighs apart while the other gathered yours and Dave combined cum. You moaned at the intrusion when he started to slather it over your asshole, pressing his fingertips in ever so slightly with each pass.

"Maybe the problem is that I haven't claimed all your holes yet. I've painted your cunt. You've swallowed my cum. Now.." he pushed his finger in more, causing you to hiss. "Hush now, Darlin'. I'll admit I was mad before but now I'm just taking care of you. You don't want to go off to college and settle for some kid awkwardly jack rabbiting until he squirts into a condom just because you're horny. Let me satisfy you good and proper. Let me fuck some of those hormones out. Relax, just take it."

The finger at your hole pushed in more as he thumbed your clit. "Oh, good girl. There you go." His knuckle popped past your tight ring. "Gonna fuck your hole with my finger for a little while. Gotta get you good and ready for my cock." He felt you tense around him at the thought of taking his cock if just one finger was this tight. "Welcome to the adult world, Sweetheart. Your choices have consequences. You let another man come in my pussy. Now I have to fuck your hole whether you like it or not. See how I'm being kind, getting you all wet and prepared. What do you say?"

When you didn't instantly answer he pushed another finger in. "Oh. Fuck. Thank you, Joel."

"Good girl. You deserve a treat. Nothing but the best for my girl." His thumb was replaced by his lips as he sucked hard on your clit. The pleasure was so intense he managed to start on finger number three. Once you came again he used that to coat his cock, dipping it inside you and thrusting languidly until he was covered.

"Here, hold your knees up for me, Sweet Girl. Good." With you spread open he pushed in slowly. The burn was laced with ecstasy. It took a moment for the burn to fade then you moaned at the fullness stimulating all your delicate nerves.

"Fuck every hole on you is perfect." Joel wasn't in a hurry to finish. He pumped himself inside you leisurely. "You know. I think I've decided that I don't want you fucking any boys. I saw the way you were dancing with the girls out there. How you giggle and flushed when they accidently touched you. I think you'd be happy to get off with them." The thought made your throat dry. You couldn't deny it so you just lay there taking what he was giving you his cock, his proclamations. "When you go back east to college I'm gonna get lonely. I might need some material to keep me going. You could send me some pictures of that pretty face buried in a pussy. Maybe at the holidays you can bring a friend over? I'm a good host. I'd make you comfortable. One of you could sit on my cock and the other on my face." His thrusts stayed slow and shallow as he continued. "Or I could fill you while you make her come. Hell, maybe I'd even forgive Dave enough to let him join. We could see who could fuck you senseless first. I do sort of owe him." The chuckle he let out caused his cock to jump inside you. "We were going to share you at first but then I tasted that pussy on your fingers. I knew you had to be mine. Dave gets enough pussy anyway. When I wouldn't let him come over earlier he sent me a photo an hour later of some woman's face covered in his cum. He's pissed that you get him so worked up."

The thought of the two of them wanting you added to the tingle Joel's cock was nudging against through the thin wall of your pussy. Just as you finally started to fully relax around him and Joel bottomed out with a sigh, your phone rang. It was still on the table from where you had been cleaning earlier.

"Shit. It's my mom!" Joel barely reacted. He picked up the phone, answered it and put it on speaker. "Hi, mom. What's up?" It was a strain to keep your voice level as Joel pushed as deep in as he could and held himself there.

"The bar was super busy. We decided to come back. We'll be about five to ten minutes. I hope you don't mind. I heard none of your friends stayed."

"No. I was tired so I sent them home. I'm going to bed now."

"Oh, okay. We'll be quiet."

"Thanks. Bye, Mom."

As she said bye Joel hung up for you. "I guess we better be quick."

"Quick? No, Joel, she said five minutes. I need to get up to bed. You need to leave." You tried to sit up.

"No." Rough grabbed your tit to push you down. "You need to learn your lesson. Trust me." When you tried to argue he stuff you panties that he'd left balled up on the table into your mouth.

"Joel, please." You sobbed around them. It turned into a muffled scream as he started to thrust in aid of his release.

"This is what you need to learn, Baby. Look at how you've got me and Dave. He couldn't nut on your pretty face so he got some bored waitress to blow him. You've got me rambling about fantasies while balls deep in you. This is what you do to men.You momma could walk in right now and she couldn't blame me. This is all you. It's all your fault."

Whether it was his words or the pain of the new pace and depth, tears spilled from your eyes. "Stop. Joel. Stop, please." You couldn't have your mom see this.

"You don't mean that. Here." His fingers aggressively rubbed your clit. Your body reacted in spite of you. An orgams built quickly as Joel continued to use your ass.

"I didn't mean to make you cry, Baby. I'm just looking out for you. You need to know the truth. Men are going to be feral for you. You need to keep yourself safe without me. This is what could happen. They could be in you and not be able to stop themselves. You can take it though, my strong girl." His thrusts were still deep and strong but now they were erratic. "Take it just a little more. I'm almost there. Come on, come for me. Come while I fill you. Oh, fuck. Oh shit, Princess." The sight of Joel arching between your legs as he helplessly shot load after load inside you made you come. It was fucked up. He used you, degraded you. Ignored your pleas to stop, even if you didn't mean it. It was wrong. So fucking wrong. Still with what little strength was left in your rung out body you flung yourself at him, taking all the kisses he had denied you in anger.

"Oh, Sweetness. I'm glad you're not angry. I took it a little far. You know it's because I care right?" You nodded against his neck as you rested there a minute. "Speaking of which, you go get a shower. I'll clean up here." You looked at the once tidy table now covered in something that definitely wasn't ranch.

Over the sound of the spray of the water against your most intimate area, you heard your mom arrive home and a muffled conversation. When you got into bed, there was a text from Joel waiting for you.

I told your mom I sent you to bed while I tidied. Poor you, you were so tired. If you're sore in the morning. Come over and I'll eat your ass until you feel better.

It made your clean skin feel dirty. You wanted to go over there now and let him do whatever he wanted to do to your body. Deciding not to reply to him for fear of asking if you could come over and arousing your mom's suspicions, you set your phone down. After a moment it pinged. It was a message tone that was completely unfamiliar to you.

You naughty girl. You got me in trouble with Joel. He's not happy that I used your pussy.

The message disappeared a few seconds after you read it. Another one appeared.

He thinks that it's his. You and I know better. Don't we, Babygirl?

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #joel miller #dave york #joel miller x f!reader #dave york x f!reader #smut #tw: dubcon #tw: allusions to abuse

[t00thpasteface]

hey. kingcade person. you ruined me. anyways any thoughts on a legion ending where the two bond over militantly defending new vegas from the legion. I'm so underslept rn but you did this to me so

omg. hi. you're welcome >:3

also imo they don't even need a legion ending or near-ending for that; they can already just make a fun weekend out of it whenever. take a couple days off work and smash some skulls on the outskirts of town. BOYS NIGHT!! you can't swing a dead cat without hitting one of those roving death squads that's always hounding blue so i'm sure they'd have no trouble bumping into some good targets and saving a couple would-be kidnappees in the process.

arcade is soooo sassy and snide with blue whenever they're in combat; i have a hard time imagining he wouldn't be twice as snarky with the king if they ever ended up in a fight together. i'm not sure how long arcade's been in the area relative to the kings taking control of freeside, but you would probably be forgiven for thinking the king is mostly resting on laurels and doesn't have a lot to personally back up his royal title, especially given his reputation for being so accommodating... and well dressed. he definitely has that "i'm a lover not a fighter" energy about him. it would be funny if arcade severely underestimates the king's ability to handle himself, and there's a lot of very amusing ways he could get proven wrong.

if you want to see a similar dynamic with lower stakes, i'm working on a fic here and there about the king showing arcade the ropes of basic hand-to-hand combat. maybe i could have arcade put his skillz to the test on a legion spy...?

ANYWAY... even though it wasn't my intention to convert people to kingcade it's DELIGHTFUL to see it happening regardless. doing PR work for rarepairs has been my brand on this site for over a decade at this point so i certainly have credentials and experience. and if anyone's going to get people weirdly invested in mr the king and a ship involving him, it's gotta be me, the chick who once cried real, actual, eye-stinging tears to Love Me Tender while bussing tables at a 50s themed burger joint. CREDENTIALS, I TELLS YA!

#hehehehe. they. i have a few irons in the fire re: kingcade fics and hopefully i can get at least one of them passably finished soon...ish #shebbz shoutz #kingcade #ask

[silversiren1101]

10, 27, 30, 37

OTP Relationship Asks!

10. What are some non-sexual activities they do together? 

Is there anything more romantic than writing reports together and working on military strategy or operations?

In all honesty, though, they are the type of couple that doesn't necessarily need to do things together so much as they enjoy existing around one another. Quiet time before the fireplace with books or reports or even just dozing off are how they most often relax together - they're both very busy people with different things to worry about at times!

As for more active things, they do often train and workout together. They both know each other's preferred training routines (modified from Hellknight armiger training) and try to have joint sessions at least once a week.

When they have time - board games are also a good, competitive activity for them. Chess and Imperial Conquest to even Checkers to shake things up... I imagine it's a little luxury for them and they end up amassing several interesting games from around Golarion to pass the time.

27. What random everyday object/activity makes them think of each other?

I'm actually kind of struggling with this one!

There are the obvious things like feathers remind Regill of Minovae and battlemaps remind her of him... but those don't really feel sentimental enough.

I have to get a little more abstract - for Regill, the cold often reminds him of her because his first instinct is to grouchily wonder if she remembered a coat or scarf. She gets cold very easily because of her scales and when he found her on the bank of the West Sellen near Leper's Smile after the whole thing with Ssila'meshnik transforming her powers and her panic leaping 3 days ahead... she was deadly hypothermic. He doesn't actively admit or talk about it because he dislikes being considered sentimental or worrying, but remembering how cold she was when pulled his gauntlets off to assess her always disquiets him. Someone so bright and undeserving of such suffering shouldn't have felt that cold, like a corpse.

Minovae on the other hand... teas and coffees, especially ones she has while traveling, always make her wonder what he would think of them. Regill is a bit of a coffee snob (a quiet, aloof one) so when she's traveling around the Inner Sea away from home, she makes sure to always try what's local or preferred in the area, possibly bringing leaves or beans back home with her. He's not a materialistic person, so these more 'practical' gifts are much more to his acceptance... especially if they come with a military history book or martial philosophical treatise to read along with them that she found.

30. What is their favorite place to kiss the other? (Cheek, hand, closed eyelid, neck, nose, etc.)

Minovae gravitates towards kissing his scars - the ones he earned from protecting her: over his jugular, several across his torso, one on his thigh, and the massive one stretching from palm to shoulder on his left arm. It's her way of acknowledging without words his devotion and love, and expressing her deepest gratitude and sorrow over the pain he suffered.

Regill usually defaults to lips or cheek/jaw. Being shorter makes it a bit more difficult for spontaneous kissing though, so her hands do get a brief kiss if there's no time to stop and give her a proper one!

In bed... for both of them, it's open season. Their necks and shoulders especially get rather marked up, but special shout out goes for Mino's inner thighs and her sides.

37. What do they like the least about each other?

SPICY QUESTION!

Minovae does struggle with how callous and cruel the Worldwound has made Regill in the decades she's been gone. He's always been cold and more willing to pay for victory in blood, but it's gotten so much... severe. When her memories do come back, she is pretty appalled by his actions and beliefs but she also understands. The person he used to be slowly died here just as the person she was did, and she knows if she had survived decades here she might have become much the same. When demons are so merciless and cruel and have been winning for so long, you don't have time to stop and deliberate on the options. Things turn black and white when it's a choice of "everyone dies" or "some/most people die". It's at least offset by his ever-willingness to listen to her input and consider her seriously, and when the tide of the Crusade changes in their favor, his methods and initial impulses do gradually begin to shift to match.

Alongside this, she dislikes how he doesn't see the soldiers and rank and file as people so much as currency of war or tools. Even back during the Chelish Civil War, Mino would personally deliver the remains of those that perished underneath her to their surviving family and apologize for not doing enough to save them. Regill would merely say that they knew what they signed up for and they died in service, as was expected of them. Their sacrifice would be acknowledged and that was suitable enough.

Conversely, Regill dislikes how reluctant Mino is to truly lead. She has all the skills for it, but she cannot detach herself enough to use her soldiers as they've enlisted to be. She takes losses too personally and he even goes so far as to say she is robbing them of their agency by being so reluctant to endanger them. "They signed up for this, to fight and possibly die. This was their choice. Why do you feel the need to shield them from that?"

They've never come to agree on this, but they at least understand and accept where the other is coming from.

I feel like wasted potential would be a huge pet peeve for him, and Minovae would truly be a formidable leader if she could get past this... but he also admit that her softness and kind-heart are what truly make her her, and he wouldn't change that about her if he magically could.

He also dislikes just how trusting she can be with second-chances or her reluctance to think critically of someone without complete proof or evidence. This led her to getting stabbed by Camellia, of course, and even then she was insistent on sparing her and getting her help... Mino is so preoccupied with protecting and saving others that she most often suffers in their stead. Regill does admire how she is so steadfast in her ideals in this but he can only watch her get hurt so many times by foolishly trusting another before it becomes a point of contention between them.

Ultimately though, what they dislike about the other are aspects of what they also admire most. Minovae is kind and good hearted, always searching for answers and solutions that save the most people... but it holds her back and causes her to get hurt. Regill is self-assured, confident, and resolute in his beliefs, doing whatever it takes for the greater good to prevail in the end... but he loses sight of just what the cost is and doesn't see how dozens of instances of mortal empathy and connection can create something far more substantial in the bigger picture.

All that matters is they understand and accept the other during such disagreements.

Questions here!

#silversirenwrites #regill derenge x minovae arangeir #oc: minovae arangeir #pair: hellpair #pwotr pals

[fowlblue]

excessively detailed headcanons for Jon!! 9 (makeup), 19 (what do they think about before falling asleep), 43 (how far did they get in formal education)?

Yesss okay-

9. (makeup)

To make a long story short, Jon has a… complicated relationship with the concept of the ‘traditionally masculine’, and such complications left him inclined to avoid things typically seen as feminine (such a makeup) as a result- not out of dislike, truly, but when one is already grappling with the idea of being ‘man’ enough, something like makeup becomes less appealing, at least in Jon’s case. Excessive amounts of jewelry was about as far as he was willing to go.

Over time, however, he’s come to terms with that (at least externally) and coupled with a genuine love for ‘flash’, he can be found on occasion trying his best to get gold eyeliner on evenly, or something of that nature. Nothing complicated (art was never his strong suit), but as someone with a high appreciation for matters of appearance, he enjoys it on the rare occasion he considers a gathering worth dressing up for beyond business clothes alone.

(Arno helps him put it on sometimes but don’t tell anyone!)

19. (what do they think about before going to sleep?)

Hmm… the obvious answer is business, financial matters involving Fission Chips most likely, figures and the like, but I also imagine that before bed he has a ritual of sitting on his bed with a cigarette (lit, before he worked to quit- after, merely holding it in his fingers/mouth), pondering the little events of the day he gets too wrapped up in work to think about. Who fetched his coffee (decaf), what the gossip was that he overheard in the halls (he’s always listening), what rumors have been spread about who’s coming after him next. Thinks that would otherwise clutter up in the back of his brain- he does that until he thinks himself asleep.

(Sometimes, he gets the blessing of quieter things to think about. The new food joint on the opposite street corner he wants to try sometime, what the younger members of his estranged family are up to- he hopes they get a better start to life than he did, even if he can’t find the effort to know much about them-, what day next week he’ll supposedly take off and go out for a change. He never does, but he likes thinking about it, and for him that’s enough).

43. (how far did they go in formal education)

So, Jon grew up in a small-town suburb in the South, in a family that didn’t have much faith in higher education. From a young age, Jon was expected to make it through high school, find a nice wife and steady job and settle down. Maybe work on a trade of some kind instead, if he wanted variety. Jon always had an ambition to go father than that, he hated the idea of ‘settling’ for anything, especially in his hometown.

Jon was a surprisingly good student, supposedly wild at parties but always keeping his grades up, and with lots of looking and applying for scholarships, he got into a university near Chicago in the hopes of obtaining a Business degree. Unfortunately, both personal strain on family ties and his relatives’ insistence that he was trying to be ‘better than his name’ led to him having no support in that regard- Jon spent his high school graduation alone and resentful, and left for college the next day, the first in his family to do so.

While there, much like in high school, he did fairly well! Business came naturally to him, and while writing-intensive courses bored him, he was good with numbers and even better at making connections, even if he focused so hard at times on his schoolwork in the name of ‘success’ that he never made any close ones. He graduated with a Master of Business Administration, and then began pursuing internships and opportunities in the various fields of business that interested him: shipping, stocks, and eventually that which he’d come to be known for- communications!

#here we go! sorry if these are a little long- I rambled a bit! #ask #asks #tw smoking #jon spiro #headcanons #disclaimer: I’m not in school for business so if an MBA is not what one would typically get in that field forgive me

[ofherbalisms]

closed starter to @slavghters ! location: the farm

  CALLOUSED FINGERS GRIP tightly to box, filled to near overflow with gourds and pumpkins. So frivolous the tradition of pumpkin carving seems now to him, with the demand of caloric intakes needing to be filled. A gourd makes a hearty soup. A pumpkin—creamy curries and savory desserts. That's not even considering the seeds, some to be roasted for high-protein snacking, and others to continue the cycle of life and death in the bodies of their population. He fervently protests the concept of a pumpkin carve. The idea makes his abdomen knot up; anxiety, blooming and wretched, for if they are not ahead then they risk famine knocking on their gates—a bailiff to revoke their lives at last; a reaper to beckon them to the other side. Nevermind his lack of Halloween traditions—his objection now is purely from a numbers standpoint.

  No. Reuven feels personally responsible for keeping food in the mouths of all their population now. Even if they have plenty of seeds and are meticulous in their farming and he and Astoria work like a well oiled machine together; even if the greenhouse is fragrant and the farm is flourishing and there is no forseeable shortage in grains, vegetables, meat or herbs, he still holds this worry that it will all go up in smoke one day and they need to be ahead. Always ahead. He thinks of the families, whose children survived the horrors outside, and imagines them going hungry. He remembers how desperate, how devastating, how hopeless it had felt to hear the words I'm hungry from his own child and have been able to do nothing about it. His hope is that not even one parent will have to hear the same from their kin behind these gates. It feels viscerally wrong to gather up gourds and pass them out with no absolutes that once they're done being carved, that they'll make onto a stove. It has kept his expression soured all afternoon, rather than its usual stoic.

  Though it is an autumn raging with cooled winds and crisped leaves, a sweat has developed upon his forehead and chest. He'd spent the morning tending to the herbs, the afternoon planting and now harvesting in the farm, and then would go up on the watch tower to keep himself occupied, because being in his solitude in that dorm room functioned only to fester woes. He's calling Astoria's name, to alert her to a localized infestation of aphids on the tomatoes—if they handle it now they'll be able to save the fruit. He's going to suggest ladybugs, but as he takes his concentration on the farmer, he notices a pile of dirt too late. His footing skips, balance fails, and he, and the twenty-something gourds go tumbling through resting leaves and stems. He's caught his fall, but not quickly enough to avoid being covered in dirt, and it surprises him. Not just because it was unexpected but because it is so unusual for him—he is normally pervasively observant of his surroundings. He doesn't speak it, but he internalizes the fall as a dwindling of his skills; as a rusting of his gears; as complacency, dangerous and unavoidable. His joints ache with their aging now, especially with the fall, and he tries to ignore what that means for the projection of his self sufficiency in the coming decades. Arm shovels the small gourds back into the box and he gives Astoria a thankful smile when she joins to help. "Really hope the kale survived," he mumbles and then nods back towards the tomatoes. "There's aphids throwing a party over there. Just a couple vines, but they're eating good. Think I saw a hornworm too... What do you think about ladybugs? If we can find them, and keep them off the greens somehow."

#𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑰𝑪𝑼𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬: 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔 - 𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑤; 𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑡ℎ. #FEATURING: astoria lewis. #i hope this is ok! lmk if i should change anything! #tw starvation

[prouddumah]

A Moment of Sight

Dumah stared a moment.

Something within him stirred that he haven't felt in...years. Whilst his corpse was stone-stiff, he might as well be a statue to the world beyond the Dry Lands. His flesh did not rot. His muscles did not degrade. His armour hugged his power like a final testament to the immortality that blessed and cursed him. Final Death was not to be his and perhaps, this was the hellish decree that Humanity decided to give Kain's most passionate of warlords.

Despite the constant starvation eating at his metaphysical gut, Dumah would smile at the sweet agony of it all. However, he didn't. For his eyes perceived into the living world for but a moment.

The Emperor of Nosgoth saw his son. Amongst all of his descendants, his immediate children by the dark embrace, this one was most precious to him.

The devolved beast that was Fredrick de Rose sat at his feet. The Dumahim - and vampires - he learned became far less than they were when their minds degraded or maybe what foul sickness that nestled in his souls finally blossomed to reveal the monstrous visage under their human pupae.

Fredrick, or Frix as he became more common to be known, was a runt for the longest time. Perhaps that was Dumah's own fault when he embraced the boy when he was scant an adult in the first place before his heritage fully grew but the lord did not have that opportunity to see his mortal boy grow into a full man.

A cur killed his boy. A weakling who couldn't believe that little red-haired runt carried more favor and potential than he. And the fledgling that came from that cooling corpse proved just that, only cemented Dumah's love for the child.

Yes. Love. A word so nauseating and distant as it was true. Vampires shouldn't foster love. Love was a weakness. It was a blade that waited to plunge into their chest and tore the glory that an immortal could claim.

Kain had seen the poison of love and warned them of human weakness. Raziel flaunted it with all of the postures of a pretty peacock. Turel ignored - and perhaps symbolized the motion of discarded weakness most. Rahab...dear Rahab suffered of it most. Zephon. Heh. Zephon couldn't fathom a thing besides that of their brotherly comradiery, at least - even Dumah hoped. And Melchiah hated.

Oh, how his youngest brother hated.

But Dumah...well, he supposed he loved. Not in the romantic sense, he almost did but harems served enough, especially the near trap of falling like his immediate junior did.

This ached the spirit more than it should. I am beyond such things, he once thought. Now, he wished to touch the long, almost doggish beast shaggy with long draped wine-red mane and armoured hide. The human form it once bore was barely recognizable. Its torso and legs were perhaps the only things left. His face stretched into an armoured mimicry of the helm he once wore as one of Dumah's gilt dragon captains. The tarnished gold was now an aged green of face and talons.

"F-Father."

Dumah shifted, feeling the empty void of the nightmarish realm tugging his spirit back from the corpse. The joints of his jaws were locked. Organs still. His body leaned back from the power of bastilla plowing his body into its torpor.

"Come. Back. Come. Back...we are alone..."

The thing that is his son wept. Dark trails of tears fell along its face. Frix returned to him every couple of months, he probably prowled the halls and the stronghold like some demented dog. Very few came here. The remnants of the great battle that became his greatest defeat were just outside those doors, he saw the impaled corpses of his clan-kin and the bones of humans but there was nothing he could do.

He can only imagine why Frix hasn't freed those impaled, maybe they were long-gone. Perhaps they were the souls he consumed in his rabid longevity before finally shaping himself in the nightmare. or they were amongst the treacherous that believed he 'gone too far'. Maybe...

"I...miss...you. I miss...Na-" Frix groaned, curling into himself and allowing his body to lull against Dumah's ankle. Silencing as if rebuked by a unheard command to silence his whining. Frix never truly whined and it both broke - and angered - Dumah. He demanded to move. To rise. To once more claim rulership and conquest but now his spirit was leaving, it was being pulled into the Dry Lands and for the briefest moment, Frix looked up.

Oh my son, what I have done?

Dumah blinked and he saw his astral counsel - the few of his loyal children that survived the madness of cannibalizing each other, shaped and shrouded in astral rags and armour. Their barely manifested faces looking upon their master. They stayed back in the fear of their king falling upon them.

"Watch over him..."

#v: limbo #dumah #frix #warning: sad

[floofers12]

The Winter Season's Pet Care

The time has changed and the leaves have tumbled off the trees. It is the time of year to prepare for winter. In a huge piece of the nation snow will be on ground soon and the temperatures will get underneath freezing. Your canine and feline realize it is winter. They get their colder time of year coat and respond to the more limited sunlight the same as us. Some canine proprietors forget about their pet for expanded timeframes imagining that creatures are adjusted to living outside. That isn't true with domesticated pets. They are accustomed to living inside similarly however much we are. I might want to give you a couple of pointers for winter pet care.

  1. Smart for winter care for your pet is take them to your veterinarian before winter truly sets in. Ensure your pet is healthy. More seasoned canines, as more seasoned people, will quite often become ill more effectively in the colder time of year. In the event that your pet have joint pain or diabetes or heart issues ensure he gets a decent examination.

  2. Assuming it is cold external ensure you watch your canine and feline carefully. Smart is stay outside with them. Whenever you get cold then odds are your canine is cold as well. That would be a decent sign to take him back inside.

  3. Watch for dangers in the colder time of year. Assuming you live near lakes or lakes get your canine far from the ice. No one can really tell what the thickness of the ice is. On the off chance that your canine would end up falling in he would struggle with getting out. I would agree assuming are near water stay outside with him. In the event that you live near woods or a backwoods the snow can conceal perils the canine can't see, similar to sticks or shakes or junk.

  4. Watch out for radiator fluid. Canines like the smell and will drink it assuming that they discover some. Antifree is extremely noxious and will kill your canine. Assuming you want to change your liquid catalyst ensure your tidy up any spills. Canines that don't approach clean thawed water will drink anything they can find. This incorporates drain water which can contain liquid catalyst, oil, or other family dangerous waste.

  5. On the off chance that your canine should be saved outside for any timeframe ensure they have a pleasant warm safe house. A pleasant durable doghouse would be really smart. Ensure they have a pleasant warm canine bed and new thawed water. That is vital. Your canine can get dried out in the colder time of year. Kindly check his water bowl prior to heading out to work or shopping. In the event that you put a wrapped high temp water bottle in their safe house it will keep it comfortable.

  6.Rock salt and deicer can exceptionally unforgiving with your canines cushions. At the point when they come in the house ensure that you clear off their cushions with a comfortable material. This is significant as they might attempt to lick their paws and they might become exceptionally sick.

  7. Be especially delicate with more seasoned or old canines. Their joint pain can deteriorate in the colder time of year. Remain nearby them when they are going down steps as they might slip and fall. They might be a touch more off-kilter and uncomfortable when they are outside. In the colder time of year they might require help getting up on their love seat or seat. Ensure they have a pleasant comfortable bed. A warmed canine bed would be smart. You might experience difficulty getting them up in the first part of the day.

FOR MORE INFO :-

pet care near me

[sammysvanfeet]

Boston Calling || Chapter Three

Jake x Reader - Enemies to Lovers

Word count: 4.8k+

*WARNINGS*: allusions to sex, hunger, objectification, angst

Chapter 4

Jake bent at the waist to eye the shot he was going to take with the pool cue. His shirt showing little to none of his modesty, revealing his tan chest now glistening with sweat. His necklaces hung obscenely, dangling from his neck, the little wooden pendants almost kissing the green velvet material that covered the top of the elegant pool table. His tongue darted out to smooth over his lips in concentration, the thin sheen of saliva making them look even more appetizing. His wispy bangs framed his face, loose from the shackles of his haphazard bun. The elastic hair tie struggled to hold the rebellious strands near the crown of his head, a few pieces fell in front of his eyes, and he attempted to blow them out of his face. Oh what I would give to twirl a lock of his hair between my fingers. The glow of the fluorescent light wasn’t harsh around Jake. It only seemed to enhance his features. I could tell the heat of the lights was affecting him, though, as I watched a bead of sweat trickle from his thick neck, over his Adam's apple and down the valley of his open shirt before disappearing. I wondered how it would taste, I could imagine the saltiness in my mouth. He took the shot with such force that the pool table shook. I gasped and clenched my thighs together, startled by his sudden movement, which caused him to abruptly turn to me. His pupils were dilated, leaving no hint of the honey brown color of his irises. His nostrils flared, but not with anger. He looked like he was going to devour me…and I liked it.

Somewhere, in the distance, I vaguely recognized a noise that sounded a lot like my alarm. Shit. I sat up abruptly, covered in perspiration and my chest heaving. What the fuck was that? I reached over and shut the offensive noise off, still trying to process what exactly just happened. Did I just have a sex dream about Jake Kiszka? My isolation really was getting to me.

“Fuck.” I muttered to myself, swinging my legs over the side of the bed, already an abrupt start to my day.

I wish I could say this was the first time I had dreamt of Jake. It had been almost a week since my night out with Josh and the boys. Jake could barely meet my gaze in class but every night in my dreams his lust filled eyes bore into mine. To make matters worse, today was the first day of our joint internship, not to mention, at a studio that was located quite a while away from our university. I didn’t bring my car when I transferred to school which led to the predicament I was in now. Earlier that week, Professor Wilson had overheard me mention busing to Albany when he suggested Jake and I carpool. He begrudgingly agreed and that was the last I had seen of him.

I shot off a text to Josh.

Y/N: You gave your brother my number, right?

It took him no time to respond.

Josh: You know you could have just given it to him yourself ;)

I groaned.

Y/N: Josh, please, I need this internship to go well for me and I don’t want to be late. Is he on his way, at least?

Josh: Don’t worry, sweetheart. He left about 10 minutes ago. Don’t have too much fun…

The insinuation Josh had made coupled with the explicit dream I quite literally just woke up from left me in a frenzy. I felt betrayed by subconsciousness for even subjecting me to such sleep induced fantasies. Jake left 10 minutes ago and couldn’t be bothered to tell me himself. I looked down and realized I was still in my Hello Kitty pajama pants.

“Fuck.” I muttered again for the second time that morning, rushing to grab the pre-planned outfit off of the hanger from my closet door. It wasn’t much, a pair of dark brown tailored cigarette pants and a form fitting ivory collared silk blouse. I figured it was formal and professional enough for the occasion while still being as comfortable as possible, especially considering the hours worth of driving we would be enduring today.

I brushed my teeth hurriedly, a growing sense of anxiety settling in the pit of my stomach at the notion of potentially being late. I barely had time to put on any makeup, just a touch of mascara and tinted chapstick. Forgoing the french braid I had planned to wear, I instead doused my fingers in tap water from my bathroom sink and ran my fingers through my hair as an attempt to coerce it into place, silently acknowledging the fact that I have judged my peers for doing the same. Just as I was about to brew a quick pot of coffee, my phone buzzed from the kitchen island.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: I’m outside, if you’re not down in 60 seconds then I’m leaving without you.

How did he even get my address? Well, my plan to at least have some caffeine in my system before facing Jake was out the window. I toed on my flats and grabbed my canvas backpack before rushing down the creaky wooden staircase. I didn’t even have time to jump on all the black tiles today, despite it being a monotonous ritual of mine, it still crushed my spirit to disregard it. I rushed down the path, past the roses and out the gate before halting in my tracks on the edge of the sidewalk.

There he was. Leaning back on the driver’s seat headrest, sunglasses adorning his face and his long hair splaying out underneath him. He had a white button up on, although it was barely buttoned in typical Jake fashion. Instead of his usual layered necklaces, he instead sported a navy scarf tied around his neck, and to top it all off, he donned a classic vintage denim jacket. I could tell he wanted to make a good impression at the recording studio. His car was nothing exceptional, an early 2000’s black convertible, the top of it down due to another unseasonably warm day. Not wanting to be caught staring, I cleared my throat and rounded the back of the car, tossing my belongings in the back seat.

“Hey…” I bit my lip and waited for a reply.

“Well are you getting in or not?” Although I couldn’t see behind his sunglasses, I can tell he was rolling his eyes at me.

“Oh, right… uh, yeah.” I awkwardly opened the car door and maneuvered myself in the passenger seat. “I like your car.” My attempt at small talk was pathetic. I internally cringed at myself for being so awkward.

Jake simply hummed in response, shifting the gear into drive, his left hand on the steering wheel mindlessly tapping along to the classic rock station playing on the radio. The sun warmed my bones despite the ungodly hour, already set higher on the horizon the closer we inched to Spring. The swift breeze that whipped past the convertible left my untamed hair all over the place. My futile attempts at removing the strands from my eyes caused me to groan in exasperation, my only fix being to rest my hands on the top of my head.

“What are you– wait, stop.” Jake removed one hand from the wheel to untie the scarf around his neck before reaching out, imploring me to take it. Still staring at his neck, I was briefly brought back to the image of him in my dream last night. When I didn’t move to immediately take the scarf, he cleared his throat, bringing me back to the present.

“Oh… thank you.” I gently took the garment from his hand and made quick work of tying the scarf around the crown of my head, breathing a sigh of relief when it worked to contain my wild locks of hair.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell Jake was staring at me. I suddenly felt self conscious. I didn’t immediately acknowledge his gaze, but when I still felt his lingering eyes I turned to face him.

“Does it look okay?” I inquired.

He chuckled, “Well it looks better than it did a minute ago.”

“Right.” I deliberated on what to say next, never being very good at idle chit chat. I wrung my hands in my lap as I stared out of the convertible, the beautiful streets of Boston beginning to slowly show the signs of life as early morning risers began to wander the paths eagerly in search of coffee and breakfast. I turned back to glance at Jake, his eyes deadset on the road, a stoic expression on his face. I broke the silence and questioned, “So, what song is this?”

He scoffed, turning to look at me from above his sunglasses. “Are you kidding me? You don’t know Cream?”, he held an offensive look at me as he waited for my response.

“Uhhh… they sound familiar. I can’t say I’ve heard this particular song though.” My cheeks flushed.

He reached over to the dial and turned the sound up exponentially louder.

“This is Sunshine Of Your Love!” He practically had to yell over the combination of music and the wind slashing around us as he pulled onto the highway. “You’re telling me you don’t know Clapton? Jack Bruce? Ginger Baker?”

I shook my head no and watched as his fingers moved rhythmically against his thigh. It took me a moment to realize he was replicating the chords of the guitar. The riff in the middle of the song was amazing, even I could appreciate that.

“I’m with you my love, the light shining through on you.” Jake crooned, almost indistinctly. “Yes I’m with you my love, it’s the morning and just we too.”

I giggled, which caused Jake to peer questioningly at me. “Something funny?”

“No, no! It’s just…it’s nothing.” I trailed off.

He looked at me expectantly, nodding his head as if to say ‘go on’. I didn’t know how else to explain the aura he was giving off, slouching against the back of his seat, his joy evident as he sang along to the song. It was a picture that was world’s different from his mean stares at me during class and his challenging nature.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this. So relaxed and carefree. It’s nice.” I explained. I hoped I hadn’t come off as to forward.

“Well you don’t really know me at all.” He retorted, obviously uncomfortable with my compliment.

I didn’t let that stop me from saying, “I do know Oliver Reed, though. I would say without a doubt he is VERY relaxed and carefree.”

At that, Jake legitimately laughed. A deep belly laugh that was so infectious, I could barely stop myself from joining in. We were going 90 mph down the highway, blasting music and giggling like children. In that moment I felt genuinely happy, even if Jake wanted to pretend he hated me sometimes. I wiped a tear from my eye, briefly realizing that this was the first tear of joy, not sadness, that I had shed since moving to Boston.

As the hour went on, we settled into a surprisingly comfortable silence. Eventually, ‘Who Cares’ by Paul McCartney came on the radio. I perked up instantly.

“I know this one!” I squealed, clapping my hands together excitedly and pointing at the radio.

“You know a song by Sir Paul McCartney?” Jake questioned, obviously not convinced.

“As a matter of fact, yes. My mother worked on this song with him.” I retorted.

“Of course she did…” Jake mumbled, barely audible.

“Oh shut up for once!” I laughed, a surge of confidence swung through me, “Sing with me!” I implored.

My hand found Jake’s bicep, gripping it in order to get his attention. I mustered up the best version of puppy dog eyes I could, pouting my bottom lip. “C’mon, pleaaaase!”

He looked at me with a sense of uncertainty hidden behind his lenses. Finally he let out a little laugh and relented, “Oh what the hell.”

As the song entered into it’s chorus, we both belted out in synchronicity. “Who cares what the idiots say? Who cares what the idiots do? Who cares about the pain in your heart? Who cares about you?” We both paused. “I do.”

✦✦✦

Approximately 2 hours and 45 minutes later, we arrived at the recording studio. I only realized this because Jake shook my shoulders frantically and awoke me from my slumber. His face was so close to mine, I could feel the warmth of his breath. His hair fell into my face and tickled my cheek.

“You said my name while you were dreaming.” He stated, matter-of-factly.

I flushed, I knew without a doubt that a look of panic had set on my face, “Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep.”

“I’m just joking.” He said smugly.

“Asshole.” I retorted, before reaching into the backseat and gathering my belongings.

I clambered out of the passenger seat with a lack of grace that earned me a chuckle from where Jake still sat. “Uhh… are you coming or what?”

He reached into the center console and pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds and a zippo lighter. I stared at him wide-eyed. I most definitely did not take Jake for a smoker.

“It’s impossible to smoke on the drive with the top down.” He offered an explanation.

“Ohhh…kay.” I responded softly.

“Want one?” He smirked and offered the pack to me. I could tell he was baiting me, he knew I wouldn’t take the cigarette.

“No thanks, I’d rather not have the first impression of me being that I reek of tobacco…” I turned to head into the building.

“Hey, Y/N!” Jake called after me.

I turned toward him and simply raised an eyebrow in question. He pointed to his head. Realizing the scarf was still on me, I untied the knot and slipped it off of my head before handing it back to him.

“Thanks again.”

He just grunted in response, resting the lit cigarette between his lips as his hands worked to secure the fabric around his throat. Once he was satisfied, he plucked the cigarette between his thumb and forefinger and exhaled a thick plume of smoke. I couldn’t help but follow it as it rose to the sky.

Behind me the sound of a woman’s voice caught my attention. I turned toward the door of the recording studio to see a blonde haired woman peeking her head out, smiling warmly at us.

“Y/N L/N and Jake Kiszka, I presume?” Her voice was sweet, almost childlike despite the crows feet around her eyes indicating her age.

I entered the recording studio first, taking in the surprisingly modern architecture. Jake must have decided against finishing his cigarette as he was right on my heels behind me.

The blonde woman mentioned that her name was Robin, she was the assistant to the music producer who introduced himself as David Stewart. He was middle aged and extremely well dressed. He carried this air of sophistication and charm. I wondered aloud how he and Professor Wilson could have ever been colleagues.

David seemed to find my outburst humorous, “Frank… I mean Professor Wilson was different back in his twenties, you wouldn’t believe it even if I showed you the pictures.”

Jake and I both laughed politely before following David through the building as he gave us the tour.

“...and this is where the magic happens.” He referenced the very updated control room. It was filled with some of the most high tech equipment I had ever seen.

“Wow.” Jake whispered, his jaw had physically dropped.

I tried to seem nonchalant. “Your setup reminds me of Kacey Musgraves’ studio, back in Nashville.”

I never wished I could take my words back so fast, despite the fact that David seemed impressed. He mentioned that he knew who my mother was, and that they had met some years ago. I tried to change the subject before I could feel any more humiliated. I knew without looking at Jake that his expression was either cruel or disgusted, so instead I cast my eyes over the equipment in front of me, continuing to listen to David’s stories about the various musicians he had worked with.

After a couple hours of going over paperwork, responsibilities and expectations, David dismissed us for lunch. He informed us that we would get some hands-on experience with a small up-and-coming band once we returned. I felt excited about the prospect of using my skills and technical knowledge to work with struggling artists.

“So… lunch?” I asked Jake as we both left the building and headed to his car.

“Uh, I’m going to grab myself something. You can do whatever.”

I looked at him incredulously. “What are you talking about? Where am I going to get food?”

“That’s for you to figure out, Princess. I only agreed to give you a ride, not take you to lunch, too.” He informed me, coolly.

Jake hopped over the door of his convertible, not even bothering to open the door. If he hadn’t been such an asshole to me, I would have said it was hot. He turned the key in the ignition without a second thought and peeled out of the parking lot, squealing his tires.

I dejectedly entered the studio again, locating a vending machine in the lobby. I fished out my coin purse and slipped in $2 worth of quarters before making my selection. Looks like lunch was a rice crispy treat and a diet coke. ‘How gourmet’ I thought to myself. I sat on a cold plastic chair in the front lobby and ate in comfortable silence as Robin typed away on her computer. I watched the clock on the wall tick by. 30 minutes started to feel like a lifetime. The snack wrapper and soda were finished and discarded long ago. Eventually Jake came back, with two minutes to spare. He was clutching a crumpled up fast food bag, obviously looking for somewhere to discard it. The second the scent hit my nose my stomach growled obnoxiously. Even Robin looked up from her seat at the receptionist desk in shock.

“Have a good lunch?” Jake had the audacity to ask.

Letting my hunger get the better of me, I bit back “What do you think?”

Robin cleared her throat. “The two of you working together isn’t going to be a problem, is it?” Her eyes nervously darted between us, obviously sensing the bubbling tension.

“Oh, no. Not at all.” Jake responded, a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice. Then he flashed a panty-dropping smile at Robin which seemed to placate her.

“Fucker.” I mumbled under my breath, only loud enough for Jake to hear me.

It could have been a hallucination from my hunger but I swear the corner of his lips had twitched as he tried to suppress a smile. I sat up from my uncomfortable criss-cross position on the seat and toed my flats back on my feet, smoothing my pants down and readjusting my outfit. Seconds later, the front door opened and in piled a group of five young guys, dressed like country music stars but with a lot more edge.

Robin rose from her chair and rounded the desk to greet them, “You must be the City Slickers!”

One of the men responded in a charming Southern accent. “Damn right, sugar. Now where’s Mr. Stewart, because we’re ready to make a number one record!”

The rest of the men whooped and cheered as Robin left the office to retrieve David. As we waited, Jake offered his hand to the band members and introduced himself. I only caught the lead singer’s name; Hunter. Before I could get around to present myself, the frontman interjected.

“And who’s this pretty little thing?” Hunter said as he craned his neck and unapologetically studied my figure. “She your girl?” He asked, only directed at Jake. The blatant lack of respect made me seethe.

The audacity of this guy. I answered before Jake had the chance to. “For the record my name is Y/N, and I’m no one’s girl.” I said nonchalantly and as professionally as I could, stretching my back to stand straighter.

Hunter howled at the rest of the men, glancing around the room. “Man, she’s feisty.”

“Damn right she is.” A tattooed, shaved headed man concurred. They all began chuckling and continued to eye me shamelessly. I felt disgusted and from my peripheral I could see Jake’s expression had changed too, he looked defensive.

“Hey, man. Knock it off okay?” Jake cut in, his voice calm but clearly irritated, he tried to be as collected as possible.

“What did you say?” Hunter puffed his chest out. They all looked at him like he had committed a federal crime. “We’re the talent and you’re just a… servant”, one of them finished.

Jake clenched his fists. I could tell he was battling with himself over whether or not to hit this guy. I softly approached him from behind, wrapping my hand around his arm for the second time this day, silently and firmly pulling him back to me. I turned my head to the side and spoke into his ear.

“Jake, I promise you he is not worth it. Don’t ruin this once in a lifetime opportunity over a dumbass redneck... and especially not over me.” I whispered, hoping it would bring him back to reality.

He closed his eyes tightly, taking a shaky breath in. Luckily David entered the room before the situation could escalate further.

“Okay everyone, let’s go make some music!” David announced, leading everyone back to the control room.

I released my hand on Jake’s arm. It was almost undetectable, but he lowered his head in a slight nod as if to thank me. I returned the gesture.

✦✦✦

By the time we had wrapped up the day, it was way past dark. The band had been an absolute nightmare. Their glimmer of talent was nothing compared to the size of their swollen egos. Jake and I were run ragged; grabbing beer and snacks more than we could actually get our hands on the equipment and learn from Steve. It was debilitating, I felt discouraged and used and I was pushed to my wits end. I was certain that Jake shared the same sentiment, the toll of the day was evident on his face, his eyebrows crinkled like he was about to snap at any second. I opened the door to the studio’s building letting myself and Jake out, an unnerving silence surrounding us. Unlocking his car, Jake and I lowered ourselves into the leather seats of the convertible, and I audibly sighed.

“UGH.” Jake hit his fists on his steering wheel out of frustration. He looked up to the sky, presumably to calm himself before grabbing a cigarette from his pack of Marlboro Reds.

This time it was me who asked for the cigarette.

“You what?” I could tell he thought he misheard me. I rolled my eyes before turning my body to the side to face him.

“It has been an exceptionally shitty day. Not only am I stressed out, but because of you I am fucking starving, too. I will literally tear your head off if you do not give me a goddamn cigarette. Now.” My voice came out hoarser than I had expected.

I thrusted my open palm towards him. He warily placed the cigarette in my hand, eyeing me carefully. I placed the stick between my lips and turned toward him. He used his right hand to ignite the lighter and his left to cup around the flame as he bought it towards me. I inhaled slowly as the cherry began to light, letting the smoke sit in my lungs for a second before releasing it and coughing slightly.

“I could tell you were surprised that I smoked earlier. I didn’t take you for a smoker, yourself.” Jake commented. Was this his attempt at small talk? Because he was terrible at it.

“Former smoker. Figured it’d be an adequate way to rebel against my mother, that phase didn’t last long though.” I laughed, sadly.

“Mommy issues?” he asked, although it was more of a statement than a question.

“Something like that…” I trailed off. “What about you? Are you close with your family?”

“Well my twin is literally my roommate, so yeah. I’d say him and I are pretty close, no matter how fucking annoying he is.”

I smiled at the thought of Josh annoying Jake on a daily basis.

“What about your parents? Any other siblings besides Sam?

“Uh, yeah. My parents are great. They raised us in a super loving home with lots of culture. That’s where my love of music comes from, and Josh’s love of film.” He paused to catch his breath. “As for other siblings, yeah… I have a sister named Ronnie. She’s older than Sam but younger than Josh and I. She's off studying at a college abroad in Spain, and the rest of us are here in Boston.” he finished.

This was probably the longest sentence I had ever heard out of Jake’s mouth.

“That sounds nice.” I tried to sound sincere, but I doubted it came across that way. Now that I knew he was the product of a happy family, I felt a pang of jealousy. I stayed silent, taking languid puffs of my cigarette.

“What about you? I’ve only heard about your amazingly talented mother.” His voice dripped with disdain.

“Uh… well. Her and I don’t exactly see eye to eye. That’s the reason I moved here, I needed space from her.” Jake stayed quiet but kept his eyes on me, which led me to ramble on more. “My dad passed away when I was younger. His death inevitably turned my mother very bitter, and my older sister took it really hard too and started to act out. I’m not entirely sure what the breaking point for my sister was but eventually, she just packed up all her things and left without a word, I haven’t heard from her since.” I sniffled, realizing that I had started to cry.

I could feel my nose running and the stinging pain of tears that flowed down my cheeks and onto my chin. I felt the numbing compression in my breastbone when I tried to bite back a particularly loud sob. I had already revealed enough about my tragic family dynamics, I didn’t want to weep in front of him too. I discreetly attempted to swipe the tears away and take an unassuming drag of my cigarette, letting out shaky whimpers. I was embarrassed at how quickly I crumbled at the notion of my family, and more importantly the sister I always thought I’d have to look up to. As childish as it sounded, she promised she would be in my life forever and I believed her. Inhaling a particularly shuddered breath, I looked up at the sky, the light pollution from the area blocking any and every view of the stars above. My nose and the tips of my ears were surely turning red from the sudden drop in temperature. Jake let out a contemplative sigh before reaching out to hold my forearm, a movement that somewhat startled me.

“I’m really sorry,” he replied. His face harbored a look of honest sympathy. I gave him an appreciative nod and a wry, barely there smile. I didn’t know how else to respond to his statement. I was grateful he cared, but that seemed to be the answer most people who heard my sad tale gave, and at some point, I just didn’t know what to say anymore.

The radio started softly playing “Fluorescent Adolescent” by Arctic Monkeys. I recognized it as one of my favorite songs immediately. The moon was our main source of light at this point. The floodlights outside the studio had burnt out and the buzzing streetlamp at the end of the parking lot was dim. The way Jake looked at me right now coupled with Alex Turner's voice drifting from the car speakers made me nervous. He kept his loose grip on my arm while his thumb stroked small circles. As I looked at Jake, for once I didn’t sense disgust, contempt or even pity. The moonlight highlighted the planes of his face. His cheekbones, his prominent nose, all of it looked hauntingly beautiful at this moment. I wiped my tears with the sleeve of my blouse, my gaze not once straying from his. He was still silent, just watching me, taking all of me in.

‘...the best you ever had, the best you ever had is just a memory and those dreams weren’t as daft as they seem…’

Whether it was the need for relief from this day, or the lingering frustration from last night’s fantasy… it was impossible to say. But in that moment, my brain short circuited and I found myself bunching the collar of his shirt in my fist and pulling him into a sloppy, heated kiss.

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[cinnaminsvga]

Hug-o-gram | Yoongi

→ summary: 

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font. 

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious. 

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au, fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to scream, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: 13.3K → a/n: another commission by the lovely @jincherie​ because she’s epic like that!! she literally just told me to write whatever the hell i wanted and well... yoobie got me Good... anyway here’s more yoongi fluff bc apparently i’m a fluff writer now and sometimes i just want my boy to be happy... appa yip yip

Kim Seokjin makes a lot of good decisions. He also makes plenty of bad ones, but he likes to think the score is lying heavily towards the positives. Min Yoongi will be the first one to quickly disagree, but Seokjin doesn’t let it get to him. He doesn’t make it his business to listen to opinions that don’t immediately align with his, anyway; he likes to call it “selective hearing.” Yoongi calls it stupidity. Either way, the point still stands: Seokjin knows a good idea when he sees one. Case in point:

“This automatic popcorn machine is absolutely divine,” Seokjin moans, his mouth agape as he waits for the Mister Popcorn Robot to bestow him with another morsel of goodness.

“Yeah,” is Yoongi’s verbose reply. He also has his mouth agape, his prone body lying side by side with his roommate of four years in their small living room. Their roomba (another one of Seokjin’s good ideas) cleans all around them, its steady whirring serving as their only source of background music. “Lowkey though, I think our position isn’t quite… as optimized as it could be.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asks, as he drapes his leg over Yoongi’s. His movement jostles the surrounding popcorn halo around them, as most of the food had missed their mouths by a couple of centimeters. At this point, the roomba has probably eaten more of the popcorn than the two of them combined.

“Nothing,” Yoongi shrugs, or whatever might be the lying down equivalent of a shrug. Some of the popcorn on his chest falls down, only to be quickly devoured by roomba-chi. Yoongi stares at the ceiling, tracing shapes out of the cracks that Seokjin had accidentally made when he tried using a pogo stick indoors. He points up, catching Seokjin’s attention. “Hey, hyung. Doesn’t that look a bit like Y/N?”

Seokjin squints. “You mean the mysterious brown stain near the lights? I think the toilet from the elderly couple upstairs might have leaked that.”

“No, you dipshit. The squiggly curve over there. It reminds me of her smile.” Yoongi says. There’s a stupid dopey grin on his face and Seokjin wants nothing more than to wipe it off.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Seokjin groans, turning over to envelop Yoongi in a sweaty half-armed hug. The buttery residue on his arms and stomach leaves something to be desired, but Yoongi doesn’t scoot away. He only continues to sigh dreamily, staring mindlessly at the image of you that only his lovelorn brain can imagine.

Seokjin slaps Yoongi in the face. “Dude, get a fucking grip,” he grouses, giving Yoongi a serious look. The younger doesn’t break out of his trance, further irritating him. “Will you stop pining in front of my popcorn? It’s seriously making roomba-chi lose her appetite!”

To his credit, roomba-chi did seem to be slowing down, though that could also be because it had overloaded with popcorn and was seconds away from exploding. Wouldn’t be the first time, but Seokjin always managed to find a way to save roomba-chi from imminent death. She was like a daughter to him.

“Hyung, you know I can’t. I just… God, I really like her, you know?”

“That’s the third time you said that within the last hour. Believe me, I know.” Seokjin groans, shoving Yoongi away. He sits up, reaching over to the popcorn machine and switching it off. He grabs a fistful of fallen popcorn from the ground and shoves it inside Yoongi’s mouth. “There. That should shut you up.”

“Aw weawwy wike hew, hwung.”

“And yet, you still haven’t done anything after four years,” Seokjin tuts, finally standing up. He stretches his limbs, his joints creaking youthfully. He grabs his phone from the coffee table, nearly dropping it from the butteriness of his fingers. The clock reads 4:32 PM, which means–

“Yoongi, it’s time for me to head to work. You want to come with me today?” Seokjin asks, though he knows what answer he’s going to get. You see, Seokjin’s new booming business is another one of his fantastic ideas, but it is a little... inventive. Sure, Yoongi had scoffed when he had originally suggested the idea, but Seokjin knew that it was going to be a money-maker. Sure, it had taken a few years for the business to really take off, but once it finally did…

Enter Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service! Students from his university are able to send anonymous payments directly to him, with little notes attached for their crushes. Each love letter delivery comes with a hug from Seokjin himself, delivered straight to the person without them ever knowing who the hug came from. It was ingenious! It was lucrative! But most of all…

It allowed Seokjin to cause drama and have an excuse for it! Nothing could have been more perfect for a man like him.

“No thanks,” Yoongi snorts, rolling over to face him. He watches from the floor as Seokjin changes into a butter-less shirt, which also happens to have his own face printed on the front and back. His trusty cardboard sign that reads “I’m Gonna Glomp Ya!” also joins his attire for the afternoon, a long piece of string tied to its edges so that he can wear it around his neck. Throwing on a pair of white sneakers with the tags still attached, Seokjin is ready to tackle today’s list of would-be hug-ees.

“How do I look?” Seokjin asks, combing his hair with his fingers. It leaves an oily sheen, which he somehow makes it work.

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can speak tsundere, so you don’t need to explain,” Seokjin snickers, nearly getting hit with a TV remote by Yoongi. He opens his phone again, swiping to his e-mail to see his list of hug deliveries for the day.

Seokjin gets around 10 requests a day, with around half of them coming from regular clients. He’s especially fond of this boy who has been sending hugs to his TA named Namjoon for almost a month now. He has no idea why this kid has so much disposable income, though seeing the blush on Namjoon’s face everyday makes Seokjin think that he would spend every last penny for him too. Namjoon had begged Seokjin for his secret admirer’s identity, but snitchin’ isn’t a part of his service, unfortunately.

As much as Seokjin wants to know who is crushing on who, his little business wouldn’t work as well as it did if anonymity wasn’t included in his package deal. It allows people to thirst in public without facing the repercussions, like getting a knee to the groin or a slap to the face. Not that Seokjin has ever been at the receiving end of that; everyone loves him! Like, have you seen him? He must have saved a civilization in the past with how devastatingly beautiful his forehead is.

“Why am I suddenly filled with the relentless urge to deck you right now?” Yoongi says, getting up to change into clean clothes as well. His black t-shirt unfortunately does not have Seokjin’s face on it, but that can quickly be amended if the elder of the two decides to follow his every intrusive whim.

Seokjin laughs, completely unaware of the murderous capabilities of his friend. Due to his smaller body size, his percentage of evil is unusually concentrated. “Maybe it’s because you know that I’m into pain pla–” but Seokjin’s retort suddenly grinds to a halt. He chokes mid-sentence, coughing wildly as he pounds his chest with a balled-up fist. When Yoongi looks up at him, he finds his hyung staring slack-jawed at his phone, seemingly flabbergasted by what he finds on his screen.

“What’s the matter? Accidentally sent a dick pic to your prof again?” Yoongi snorts.

“That was one time! And no, it’s…” Seokjin trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant. He shifts his gaze from his phone to Yoongi, a drop of sweat quickly forming on the back of his neck. Yoongi raises a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Instead of replying, Seokjin hands him his phone. Yoongi finds a copy of one of Seokjin’s newest hug requests, only having just received it five minutes ago. As he scrolls down, he finds that this secret admirer is a new client, but that isn’t what made Seokjin stop in his tracks. Instead, it’s the recipient of the hug that catches his attention–

“Y/N has a secret admirer?” Yoongi says, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, trying his best to school his face into something less… jealous. He swivels away from Seokjin, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He convinces himself that he is the very epitome of calmness.

“You okay there, Yoongi? You look like you’re about to vomit,” Seokjin says, immediately breaking his inner peace. Yoongi groans loudly, shucking the phone over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. Seokjin, with his superhuman and God-given reflexes… doesn’t catch it. But he did dive to the floor like a seasoned Olympian, and his ass cushioned his phone so he supposes that’s a win.

Back to the matter at hand––

“I am fine,” Yoongi says, as he continues to not be fine.

From the floor, Seokjin shoots him a disbelieving look. He lies down more comfortably, propping his head on his elbows. Screw his hug-o-gram appointments for now; nothing brings him more joy than seeing Yoongi absolutely losing it. “Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I marched up to Y/N right now and give her the warmest, coziest, most tender hug of her fucking life?”

“Y… Yes,” Yoongi squeaks, neck glowing a furious red. He has his fists clenched (adorably) by his sides, head bowed as he faces the wall of their apartment. Seokjin’s brain makes the unhelpful comparison of Yoongi with that cat meme who says “no talk me angy” in Impact font.

Seokjin grins, his wickedness from within coiling and yearning to burst from his seams. This is it! Maybe if he pushes a little more, then maybe Yoongi will stop pining like a pathetic loser! Also, it didn’t hurt that he got to push Yoongi’s buttons while he’s at it, but hey! Not all heroes go to heaven or whatever.

He grabs his phone from his ass, scrolling back to the e-mail. “So… You wouldn’t mind if I walk up to Y/N right now and tell her ‘Hey! I’ve had an embarrassingly long crush on you and when I heard about this hugging service… I couldn’t miss the chance to shoot my shot! If you’re single and ready to #mingle, then please meet me at the Corner Cafe at 2 PM tomorrow.’” Seokjin sing-songs, snickering loudly when he sees the absolute pain etched onto Yoongi’s face.

There is a pause, and Seokjin waits as Yoongi uses his tiny kitty brain to think of what to do. He can only imagine what’s going inside his head, but he has a guess. Yoongi could either: 1) finally admit his feelings for you and come clean before Seokjin has to deliver your hug, or 2) do something stupid and counterproductive.

It comes as no surprise when Yoongi goes with option number––

“Hyung, let me come with you to work today,” Yoongi decides, walking over Seokjin’s prone body to their shoe rack. He slides into a pair of sneakers, his harried movements unusual for his customary lethargicness. He grabs a coat from its hanger, stomping his feet to get Seokjin to move faster. “C’mon! We have hugs to deliver.”

“Woah woah woah! Slow down there, Simpimus Prime.” Seokjin gets back up to his feet, skipping over to him. An absolutely feral grin is stretched upon his face. “Am I hearing what you’re saying? Are you offering… to deliver hugs with yours truly? Are you finally going to take up my offer to be an employee at Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service?”

“Of course not,” Yoongi scoffs, but his shifting eyes betray him. He fidgets in place, refusing to return Seokjin’s eager gaze. “I just… wanted to go out for once. Yeah.”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“You haven’t left this apartment other than to go to class in over a month. You never go out. You’re an indoor cat!”

“I’m not a fucking cat,” Yoongi hisses, like a cat. “And of course I go out! There was that one time I went outside to pick up our food delivery last week.”

Judging from Seokjin’s unimpressed stare, Yoongi’s excuse doesn’t cut it. Yoongi flaps his arms around, defeated. “Okay, fine! I rarely go out! Screw me and the bounteous crapload of assignments I have due! It’s not my fault I don’t have the time to socialize and have fun. What do you want from me?”

What Seokjin wants is to push a confession out of Yoongi, not because he needs the confirmation, but mostly because he just wants to annoy Yoongi and say “I told you so!” He’s also pretty cute when he’s all blushy and tsundere whenever he talks about you. Should he film him and sell the footage on eboys.bb? He’s certain that goth boy over here would make a pretty penny.

“You like krabby patties, don’t you Squidward?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Yoongi sniffs, nose upturned. He opens the door, not looking behind him to see Seokjin’s triumphant expression. “C’mon. Y/N’s last class of the day ends in a few minutes and we might catch her before she leaves the Science Building.”

Seokjin snorts. He is quick to slip his own coat on and he follows soon after. He locks their door shut, hopping over to Yoongi and matching his shorter-legged pace. “Yeah. Because you totally just know her schedule at the top of your head. You know, like a normal person.”

Yoongi ignores him. He trudges on, each step filled with determination as they make their way to Seokjin’s beat-up truck. Seokjin skips alongside him, observing the younger boy and placing bets inside his mind. The drive to campus isn’t that long as it only takes around 10 minutes to get there, but Seokjin guesses that Yoongi’s defenses will begin to chip away only 3 minutes into the drive.

He’ll start to realize the gravity of the situation, the cogs in his smooth and slushy excuse of a brain slowly comprehend what he’s about to witness. He’ll first think about how 1) he’s going to see you and that never helps his poor dainty grandpa heart and 2) he’s going to see you hugging Seokjin as he reads to you the short love confession from your anonymous Romeo. Seokjin bets that after 8 minutes, Yoongi will start to break out into a sweat, leaving gross perspiration marks on his good car seat leather.

After exactly 7 minutes and 34 seconds (Seokjin was keeping track of the time on his dashboard), Yoongi’s face turns an unflattering shade of green. “Dude. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Yoongi had originally offered to drive the two of them to campus, but Seokjin had the good foresight to refuse. Had Yoongi been the one on the wheel, he would’ve brought them back home in an instant due to nerves. So instead, Seokjin speeds up, ignoring Yoongi’s soft whimpers of defeat.

“Too bad, but there is no turning back now. I have six deliveries today and I am not putting my livelihood on the line just because your balls have magically shrunk in size,” Seokjin snickers. He glances at Yoongi from the corner of his eye and feels the slightest touch of pity for the pathetic fool beside him. “But if it really makes you want to shit yourself from anxiety, we could save Y/N for last. Though, on second thought… That could also prolong your misery, which I will always be up for.”

“God, shut up,” Yoongi groans, slamming his head on the dashboard. Seokjin continues undeterred as he pulls into the campus parking lot, waiting for his friend to make up his damn mind for once in his life. He supposes that he is being a little harsh on Yoongi, but there are only so many sad love songs he can listen to without going completely insane.

Aren’t you tired of being nice? The demon on his shoulder cajoles, shoving the corpse of his angel counterpart somewhere down a ditch. Don’t you just want to go apeshit?

And who is Seokjin to deny his impulsive needs anyway?

“No, let’s… just get this over with,” Yoongi decides, head still smushed against his dashboard. He doesn’t make any move to get out of the car, not even when Seokjin shuts off the engine and makes a show of “leaving” Yoongi behind.

“Okay, lover boy. You have ten seconds to get your butt into high gear before I’m leaving you behind. And you should know that I’m not above playing dirty and giving Y/N the sweetest fucking hug of her life that will make her forget anyone else exists in this world, so you better start moving before I–”

Like lightning, Yoongi scrambles out of the car faster than if it had caught on fire (and Seokjin’s car has exploded before and Yoongi certainly did not seem as bothered to escape than he does right now.) He nearly trips over himself in his haste, getting caught by the car door and nearly receiving a concrete facial to boot. He straightens up with as much dignity as he can muster (which he doesn’t have very much of, if at all.) Seokjin is kind enough not to mention anything, but the shit-eating grin on his face is enough to make Yoongi bristle.

They exit the parking lot, looking to the world like the sun and moon had turned human for the day. Min Yoongi, with his all-black attire and gaunt appearance, is heavily juxtaposed with the man who appears to have been vomited on by a rainbow. They walk side-by-side together, accustomed to the stares that often come their way when they go out in public.

“I just can’t believe we’re doing this,” Yoongi moans for the umpteenth time, his movements stilted like a robot. His footsteps look heavily disjointed like his knees were beginning to rust. His arms swing like a pendulum, adding to the unnaturalness of his motions. Basically, he looks like a fucking idiot.

“Who are you calling an idiot?” Yoongi snaps. Seokjin startles a bit, realizing belatedly that he’d said that out loud. Not that he cares. Yoongi continues, “I’m not the one wearing a fucking cardboard sign that looks like a toddler made it with macaroni and glitter!”

“Hey, Taehyung told me it looked good,” Seokjin sniffs, fingering the macaroni pieces dejectedly. “I don’t need to hear an opinion from a Music major.”

“Shut up, Business major. No one likes you fucking snakes,” Yoongi retorts, crossing his arms. “Your definition of fun is going on LinkedIn and using Excel sheets.”

Distracted by their own quarrel, neither of them notice the sound of the large clock in the middle of campus that chimes every hour, signaling that it was already 5 PM. A few minutes later, hoards of students begin to leave university for the day, the walkways beginning to fill with people as they head home. Amidst the chattering and bustling of everyone trying to get out of the crowd, it is hard to notice that you are also one of the hundreds of people finishing your last class of the day.

But Yoongi notices, as he always does. Call it Y/N intuition, or whatever. “There,” Yoongi points you out over dozens of heads. Seokjin can hardly spot you, but he trusts Yoongi’s weird Y/N-dar to find you without fail. People have begun to notice the two of them, most of whom were whispering excitedly when they notice that Seokjin is in his work attire.

“Oh my god, someone’s getting a hug-o-gram! I wonder who…”

“Have you ever ordered one? I got one for my current girlfriend last month and that’s how we got together.”

“I’ve always wanted to send one, but the prices are insane! Fuck them business students and their capitalist ways.”

“Screw sending a hug to someone else! I wanna order a hug for me. Kim Seokjin is a hot piece of ass.”

(Yoongi swears the last comment had sounded eerily like Seokjin himself, but the older boy’s mouth hadn’t moved in the last minute.)

“Alright, Yoongi. Here’s the plan,” Seokjin leans closer to Yoongi, stage whispering into his ear. Everyone within a six-foot radius is eagerly eavesdropping, not even bothering to pretend that they aren’t. It’s common knowledge that Seokjin basks in their attention, anyway. Yoongi rolls his eyes, urging him to get it over with.

“Y/N is over there, right? Well, I have to send a hug to this guy named Mark Lee too, who just so happens to be over there,” Seokjin points behind them, in the opposite direction of where Y/N was heading, “so here’s my proposition. You go over to Y/N and deliver the hug for me, while I go catch up to Mark so that we can kill one bird with two stones!”

“Excuse me?” Yoongi wheezes, pushing Seokjin away from him. His eyes bug out. “Are you insane? I am not doing that. And the phrase is ‘killing two birds with one stone,’ you fucking idiot.”

“Same shit, Shakespeare! Who cares about numbers!” Seokjin exclaims, exasperated. “Listen, would you rather you hug Mark and I hug Y/N?”

“I would much rather prefer that I stick my whole fist up your anus,” Yoongi seethes.

“Interesting proposition, but maybe for a later time,” Seokjin says, not missing a beat. “Listen, dude. The longer we prolong this little bitchfest you have going on, the farther away Y/N is gonna get. You know I will stop at nothing to deliver her hug anyway, so would you rather you miss your chance right now when I am so magnanimously offering you a shot at getting closer to your crush?”

Even though Yoongi feels like his insides were slowly turning into mashed potatoes, he knows that he had already made a decision long before they left the house. Seokjin is right; this is a good opportunity for him, whether he is willing to admit it out loud. Perhaps it is just because it is Seokjin of all people who is egging him on that preprogrammed him into thinking that this was a bad idea. In all seriousness, it was just a hug, nothing fancy. It isn’t like Yoongi was going to have to kiss you––

(His heart contracts and Yoongi wonders if he’s having a stroke. The thought of your soft lips connecting with his is enough to cause the wind to knock out of his chest. God, Yoongi is so screwed.)

“Why must I always feel as though I am a snail and God is personally salting me,” Yoongi groans, stepping away from Seokjin and heading your way. Behind him, Seokjin hollers in what he assumes is friendly support, but it only further antagonizes Yoongi. The absolute buffoon waves enthusiastically from behind him, a beaming grin almost ready to split his face in two. Yoongi flips him off without looking back.

God fucking dammit. The closer that Yoongi is to approaching you, the stronger the urge to just evaporate like ice cream on hot concrete becomes. He can feel himself perspiring from every corner of his body and he just hopes that his black attire will do well to mask the slimy creature that he is underneath his clothing.

This is all Seokjin’s fault, Yoongi reminds himself. If he hadn’t started this stupid hugging service in the first place, then no one would have ordered a hug for you in the first place. Then Yoongi wouldn’t have to be in this stupid predicament either!

But you could’ve ordered a hug for her if you wanted to, says the annoying part of his brain – the same part that’s always been a little bit too hopeful for Yoongi’s liking. The whispers continue, And she wouldn’t even know it would be you! But more importantly…

“Seokjin wouldn’t know either,” Yoongi huffs irritably because he knows it’s true. The biggest thing stopping him from ever making a move on you, other than his debilitating fear of rejection and heartbreak, is the fact that he’d rather explode into spores than for Seokjin to find out that he’d used his “genius” business idea to get the girl of his dreams.

He’s afraid that one day, Seokjin would magically develop telepathic powers (a fear that Yoongi feels that the majority of the human population should also share) and find out that Yoongi doesn’t actually think his hug-o-gram service is dumb. It’s actually really cute, and Yoongi hates to admit that the success rate of his service is nearly perfect in terms of getting couples together.

But Yoongi is a strong (read: stubborn) man; he’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin the satisfaction of seeing his business work out for his seemingly hopeless case. Which brings him to the present–

You’re standing by the entrance of the Sciences building. You are dressed nicely as always; Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever seen you in anything remotely slobby, not even a pair of sweats like any regular uni student. You always look a little bit business proper: the epitome of someone who should be on the student council.

You’re speaking to someone, a younger male student by the looks of it. The hairs on Yoongi’s neck stand at attention and, God forbid, did he just fucking growl? Did he make that sound? By the looks of the students carefully navigating their way around him, Yoongi surmises that he did make that sound. Geez, is he some sort of animal? Is he going to turn into those feral stan accounts on Twitter that salivate over their K-pop boys like it’s their job? He hopes not.

But what if that’s the kid who sent the hug–

Yoongi shuts up his brain before he can let it finish. No, he can’t let himself go down that path. It’ll only cause him to self-combust right then and there, and he isn’t exactly keen on letting you see his entrails anytime soon. That would be the least cool thing to do, he decides. And so, with his brain turned off, he walks over to you, arms swinging robotically by his sides as he forces himself closer.

“Oh thank you so much, Y/N! You’ve been a real help to our club, you know?” The boy (Yoongi can’t believe they’re letting toddlers into university these days!) says, his eyes glittering with an ambition that still hasn’t been killed by the all-consuming dread that comes with university.

You laugh lightly, the sound causing butterflies to flutter excitedly in Yoongi’s chest. “No worries, Soobin. I’m glad I could be of help. If the editorial board needs any more help, don’t be shy to shoot me a message, alright?”

Soobin nods enthusiastically, his head bobbing up and down so quickly that Yoongi was afraid his neck would snap. “No worries, Y/N! Have a good rest of your week!” He waves a cheery goodbye, springing away with his numerous anime keychains on his backpack jingling softly in his wake.

“What a cute kid,” you sigh. You look incredibly fond, and Yoongi hates the bitter coil swimming in the pit of his stomach. That feeling soon fizzles out when you finally turn to face Yoongi. Your eyebrows shoot up, but your expression quickly morphs into one of pleasant surprise. Yoongi’s heart stops for just a moment, feet turning cold. “Yoongi! Oh my goodness, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen you! How’s it going?”

Let’s play a game, shall we? How many of Yoongi’s nervous ticks can you spot within the next five minutes? Think of this as the easiest game of Where’s Waldo ever!

“Hnng,” Yoongi stammers, his hand immediately going to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks pinken, pupils shaking in every different direction as they try to focus on anything but you. It always feels like he’s standing way too close to the sun when he’s around you, hardly able to keep his gaze focused on you. He chooses to stare resolutely at your chin, but even your fucking chin was impossibly cute.

Seriously? Yoongi is a walking shitshow! His inner voice comes back, but this time it sounds uncannily like his roommate. Come on, buddy. Just say hi… You know, like a normal person. “H… Hey, Y/N.”

Success count: 1 point for the Yogurt Machine!

Even though Yoongi felt like he was living his worst nightmare, you still looked every bit like his favorite daydream. You are all smiles, seemingly unperturbed by Yoongi’s slow, embarrassing demise. “It’s so good to see you! Midterms haven’t been too hard on you, I hope?”

“I’ve been better,” he says. Better now that you’re here, he leaves unsaid. God, can you imagine if he said that out loud?

Your mouth drops open, soft cherry blossoms blooming across your cheeks. “Um, what did you say?” you squeak, embarrassed. But certainly not as embarrassed as the boy in front of you.

Yoongi stops breathing. He did not say that aloud, had he? Judging by the awkward silence stretching between the two of you, the signs are pointing to: yes. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygo–– “Er, what I mean to say is,” Yoongi stutters through his sentence, his entire body flushing fire engine red like it’s nobody’s business. He must look like Satan’s spanked ass right now. “I… I’m here to deliver a hug!”

Confusion quickly replaces the shock on your face. You tilt your head, brows scrunching up cutely. “A hug?” you ask.

“R-right,” Yoongi says, waving his arms around because he has nothing else better to do. He gestures vaguely in the opposite direction, where Seokjin had left to find his other clients. “I’m, uhh… Helping my roommate. Have you heard of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram service?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hop excitedly in place, looking to all the world like the cutest thing in the universe. Yoongi thinks you should be classified as a public hazard, what with how you’re somehow able to give him diabetes just from standing next to him. “I totally heard about that! I’ve always wanted to send a hug, but I’ve always been a little shy.”

That piques Yoongi’s interest immediately. You wanted to send a hug? But to who? He unconsciously clenches his jaw, and he can feel a vein pop up near his neck. He forces himself to smile, but he knows it probably looks more like a grimace. “Oh really? That’s… I didn’t know you had a crush on somebody.”

Yoongi is too busy wallowing in his own self-pity puddle that he misses the way you gaze shyly up at him through your eyelashes, your hands clasped behind your back. “Y-yea… I don’t really go around telling it to just anybody,” you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. You clear your throat. “So, are you here to deliver a hug or something?”

Nothing gets past you, huh? Yoongi swallows thickly as he twiddles his thumbs. He still can’t bear to look at you head-on, afraid that his emotions would be too obvious if he did. (Who is he kidding… He knows he’s fucking obvious, and yet you never seem to get the picture!) “Yea, I am. I’m here to deliver one to you, actually.”

He doesn’t get to see your reaction, but he does notice the way your entire body stiffens. His mind immediately starts to run a minute, trying to guess why you’d suddenly gone stock still.

Did you know who your secret admirer was already? Or perhaps, were you just thoroughly shocked to receive one at all? That can’t be it… You’re the campus sweetheart! Surely it’s much weirder that it has taken eons for you to get your first hug… Or perhaps, are you so disgusted by the thought of him delivering the hug? Oh my god, what if you didn’t want him to hug you? Shit, this entire thing is a terrible idea! How did Seokjin ever convince him to do this stupid shit and get his heartbroken in the process? He swears he’s going to shove ten firecrackers up his ass the next time he sees him––

“Um, Yoongi?” You’re staring worriedly at him, your hand semi-raised as if you were about to wave in front of him. Did you say something? He must look like a fucking prick to you! He shakes his head, trying desperately to get his mind back into his body. Why must he be cursed with inner monologue disease? What is he, some sort of shoujo manga male protagonist?

“Sorry about that. I’ve been a little spacey these days,” he laughs, but even he can hear the panic laced in his voice. He sounds just on the edge of being hysterical. “Ahaha… What were you saying?”

“I was just… shocked?” You giggle softly, making Yoongi cry internally. You smirk, mischief glittering in your eyes. “I just never imagined you’d be the type to… I don’t know…”

“Willingly hug people for the sake of capitalism? I feel you,” Yoongi snorts, forgetting for a moment who he’s talking to. “Believe me, I’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin to use me for his stupid business venture.”

“Then why are you delivering a hug to me now?” you ask, still smiling.

“Hnng,” Yoongi’s tongue feels like it’s grown two sizes all of a sudden. He wheezes, choking on his own spit as he’s caught off guard by your question. “W-well, I––”

“Just being a good friend, I’m guessing?” You’re full-on giggling now, barely trying to hide your mirth behind your hands. Yoongi understands now; you’re teasing him. He hates how amused you are by his awkwardness, but he loves the way your entire expression lights up, like you’re enjoying yourself by being with him.

“Let’s go with that,” Yoongi mumbles, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. He has his head bowed, hoping that his unruly fringe can finally come in handy and hide the disastrous blush encompassing his face. “Right… I’ll just, umm…”

“Am I getting my hug today, or am I gonna have to take a rain check?” You laugh, slapping his shoulder in an attempt to help him shake off the awkward tension. It has the opposite intended effect, as Yoongi’s breath hitches imperceptibly at your proximity. You had taken a step closer, and Yoongi could smell the sweet perfume you always seemed to be wearing. Please don’t pop a boner right now. That would be super fucking creepy.

“You’re…” Yoongi hesitates, arms uselessly immobile by his sides. He doesn’t know if he can even get them to move at this point, as he has lost all motor skills the moment you had focused all your attention on him. It’s a miracle that his heart remembers to beat every so often. “I’m just… I’m just gonna go for it, okay?”

You nod, hands tucked neatly behind your back. “No need to be scared, Yoongi. I don’t bite,” you joke.

God, if you only knew about the dreams I’ve had of you. Yoongi hopes to all the deities from up above that he had not said that aloud, but you don’t seem to be disgusted, so he can only assume that his traitorous brain had disconnected with his mouth for the time being.

He shuffles closer to you, the warmth of your body closing in as he makes the grueling effort to lift his arms up to gently wrap themselves around you, but before he can even fully hug you––

You’re quick to reciprocate. With a small laugh, you wrap your own arms around his torso, nuzzling into his chest with more force than Yoongi was expecting. He lets out a soft wheeze, mouth dropping open when he is assaulted by the smell of your fruity shampoo. His hands hover awkwardly above you, still unsure of where it’s okay to touch you without weirding you out.

You tilt your face up, eyes crinkling cutely by the sheer force of your grin. Both of your faces are only centimeters away from each other, and Yoongi could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired. His breathing stills as he becomes positively mesmerized by the beautiful sight in front of him. He doesn’t even hear the sound of phone camera shutters around him, as he is much too deeply focused on nothing but you, you, you.

“Hey, don’t half-ass your hug! Gimme a good ol’ bear hug!” you whine, nudging his elbows gently to get them to move. Snapped out of his reverie, Yoongi mechanically does as you say, his head completely empty of thoughts. He wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders, his wrist knocking slightly against the back of your head until you’re back to snuggling deep into his chest.

“Your laundry detergent smells nice,” you say, slightly muffled by his shirt. Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, mostly out of disbelief more than anything. He can’t even begin to process anything right now; he feels like he’s reverted back into a single-celled organism.

“Thanks?” Yoongi squeaks, but you don’t seem to mind his awkward attempts at being a Normal Person™️. You crane your neck upwards so that you’re looking him directly in the eye. There’s a twinkle of mischief there, like you’re enjoying Yoongi’s flushed face a little too much. He honestly feels like he’s seconds away from exploding into tiny bite-sized pieces, and he fears that if you snuggle deeper into his chest, he might just do exactly that.

“So… Are we just supposed to hug for another ten minutes, or am I allowed to let go?”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize how long it’s been. You could’ve been hugging him for ten hours and he wouldn’t have known. Yoongi jerks away from you, nearly vaulting himself across campus by how quickly he lets you go. Thankfully, you don’t appear offended––you were more amused than anything. Yoongi has no idea how red he is right now; he feels like he could be blowing steam out of his ears, astounding anatomists everywhere by his peculiar talent.

“I just have to–” Yoongi pats his back pockets for his phone, clumsily pulling it out and looking for his text messages, “–read this message from your, um, secret admirer and then we’ll be good to go.”

“Great.” You nod at him enthusiastically. “Whenever you’re ready, Yoonie.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches right then, caught off guard by the nickname. Only you ever called him that, and it never fails to make Yoongi’s insides feel like molten lava every time you say it. “I… Yeah, here goes,” Yoongi mutters, trying his best to remember how to speak.

He recites the message with as much enthusiasm as he can manage, which is to say, not very much. He could probably read the phonebook with more zeal, but it’s hard to give it his all when the words feel like acid in his throat. He’s unconsciously clenching his jaw as he speaks, looking like a constipated gorilla. “...so, if you’re single and ready to #mingle, then––” Yoongi stops mid-sentence, staring resolutely at his phone screen with a grimace.

You blink confusedly. “Then?”

“Then nothing,” Yoongi finishes, pocketing his phone without an inch of remorse. “I don’t know what was up with that message, but somehow the letter got cut short. Sorry about that.”

“Huh, strange.” You shrug your shoulders, not bothering to question him.

Yoongi fist bumps himself mentally, though other people might disagree and say that he doesn’t deserve any type of congratulations, to which Yoongi says a big “fuck you!” to those imaginary haters. In the wise words of Kim Seokjin himself, “not everyone is worthy to receive your fucks, so it’s time to stop giving them.” (Kim, 2020)

“Well, that was fun! Thanks for delivering the hug to me, Yoonie,” you pinch Yoongi’s cheek, giggling when they turn even redder. “I’ll see you around, I guess? Don’t let those midterms kill ya!” You wave cheerily at him, walking past him and heading towards the bus stops. Yoongi stands frozen in place, the events of the last few minutes finally catching up to him and frying his brain beyond repair.

Oh my god, he fucking hugged you! Like, a good and genuine hug! You felt so warm and so soft and you smelled really good and it was more than he could ever imagine and just––

Yoongi’s brain is trying (and failing) to desperately parse the delayed barrage of information as it comes, but it’s hard for the little hamster running circles in his head when it has never had to run a day in its life. Yoongi’s body feels like it’s overheating even though the weather is nearing the start of winter, but that’s all thanks to you and the devastating effect you have on him.

In short, Yoongi machine has broken, and any sort of maintenance is going to be hard to come by at the moment.

Yoongi could have been standing in front of the Science building for an entire year and he wouldn’t have budged until a tornado in the form of Kim Seokjin arrived to knock him out of his brain dead state. Whistling lowly, the elder stops in front of the rigid mass of meat, an eyebrow quirked in exasperation. “Dude, nice rigor mortis cosplay. Like, yes girl, give us nothing!” he exclaims, slapping Yoongi back to consciousness.

Yoongi blinks rapidly, dazed like he’s woken up from a dream. “What? What’s happening?” he replies dumbly.

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Yoongi. Did you finish delivering Y/N’s hug or what? I finished all my deliveries in the same time you had with Y/N, so I better hope to God you aren’t planning on applying to be an employee of mine, because you certainly have a long way to go before––”

“I hugged her,” Yoongi interrupts, eyes going glassy once more. His mouth is agape, and Seokjin can see a pool of saliva forming, ready to runneth over. He could see the rusted gears turning inside his dongsaeng’s head. “Oh my god, hyung. I fucking hugged her.”

“Yeah, and I hugged Taehyung Kim and felt his gigantic dick press into my stomach. You aren’t special,” Seokjin snorts, clasping Yoongi by the bicep. He drags him away, leading them to their parked car. “C’mon, Dampé. I’m tired and I wanna eat popcorn again.”

As they walk back to the parking lot, the campus roads are a lot less populated now that most students have gone home. Yoongi only then realizes how late it truly is and he vaguely wonders how long he had been stuck standing there before Seokjin had come to drag him back home. The sun has begun its daily descent, filling the courtyard with a warm glow and causing their shadows to grow longer as they trudge quietly to their car.

The campus is quiet enough that both of them hear the quiet buzz of Seokjin’s phone, despite him putting it on silent mode before he had gone on his hugging deliveries. He stops mid-step, causing Yoongi to bump his nose into his wide back. He yelps, shoving Seokjin forward in irritation.

“Why’d you fucking stop, you asshole?” Yoongi whines, his normal annoying personality resurfacing now that he’s begun to recover from your hug. He peers over Seokjin’s behemoth shoulders, squinting at his phone screen. “What? Another hug delivery?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it tomorrow since I think she’s gone home for the day,” Seokjin says, his tone sounding slightly too delighted for comfort. “In fact, I know she’s gone home already.”

Yoongi stills, changing his focus onto the elder’s expression. He looks… too eager to receive a simple hug-o-gram request. A shiver shoots through Yoongi’s spine when he realizes how nefariously bastardous Seokjin’s smile has grown, the tips of his smirk curling upwards like a villain from a classic Disney animation.

“What?” Yoongi glares acidly at Seokjin, but the elder is unaffected. In fact, he seems to grow more pleased the more aggravated Yoongi becomes. “Spit it out! What’s got your prostate tickled?”

“Oh, nothing,” Seokjin singsongs, shoving his phone down the front of his pants, exactly where he knows Yoongi would never touch. “Just got an interesting new regular customer, is all.”

“A new regular?” Yoongi’s pitch heightens, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling in alarm (like a cat.) “Is it… Another request for… You know who?”

“I wasn’t aware Voldemort went to our university,” Seokjin teases, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s distress. “Though, if you’re talking about Y/N, then the answer is not not not no.”

“Two double negatives.” Anyone could hear the audible soft rattling of his two brain cells exerting themselves as Yoongi deciphers his answer. “That means…”

Yoongi stares pointedly at Seokjin’s crotch, where the outline of his phone is glaringly obvious. “Show me,” Yoongi growls, not making a move to actually touch Seokjin’s nether regions.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “No one’s stopping you from taking my phone though?”

“Hyung!”

“Buy me bubble tea first, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine,” Yoongi acquiesces, folding his arms in annoyance. “Just tell me. Is it really the same guy who requested the hug for Y/N today as well?”

Seokjin fiddles around for his phone, digging deeper when it nearly drops down the leg of his pants. When he pulls it out and swipes to his e-mails, he confirms Yoongi’s fear. “Yep. And it seems like he saw you deliver the hug today. Says that he’d prefer that I deliver the hug next time,” Seokjin smirks, enjoying the deep-set frown on Yoongi’s face.

When Seokjin takes a closer look at the order, however, he notices something a little off. “Hold on a sec,” he scrolls to the receipt, scowling when he sees the incorrect amount. “Well, you might be in luck, Yoongi-chi. Looks like loverboy sent the wrong payment. He’s a few dollars short.”

“What?” Yoongi says, for what feels like the tenth time in this entire fic. He grabs Seokjin’s phone, no longer repulsed by where it had been only a few minutes prior. Like Seokjin said, the customer had given the wrong amount, much to both their confusion.

“That’s weird, considering he just ordered a hug today,” Seokjin murmurs, shaking his head. “Oh well. Happens to the best of us. Guess I’ll just have to refund the poor sap.”

“Wait,” Yoongi presses the phone to his chest, preventing Seokjin from taking it. His hyung raises a brow.

“What is it?”

“What if I just… pay you the remaining amount? Then I can also deliver the hug to her and, uhh...” Yoongi mumbles the remaining part, but Seokjin has trained his ears to catch every whisper and mutter for moments just like this. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t perfect his eavesdropping skills to a spy’s degree. That’s right––Seokjin is a sloppy and nosey bitch and he’s not afraid to admit it!

“Oh? Do my ears deceive me?” Seokjin guffaws, pinching Yoongi’s cheeks for good measure. He hisses in response, but Seokjin isn’t afraid of some little kitten. Seokjin is a bigger bitch with a meaner bite. “Is my little Yoongi Woongi seriously offering to deliver another hug to Miss Y/N? How magnanimous of you.”

Yoongi stares at him, stunned for a moment. A few seconds pass before he shakes his head, faux disdain coloring his expression. “That’s right,” Yoongi huffs, detaching himself from Seokjin’s meaty claws. He keeps his gaze averted, like the big stupid tsundere that he is. “I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart! I care about your profits, and I want to make your workload a little lighter! Isn’t that what you want?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Seokjin snickers, poking Yoongi in the tit. He swivels away, skipping merrily away to their parked car. “I’m expecting that cash in my Paypal by the time I get to the car, or else the deal is off. Make it snappy, loverboy!”

Yoongi had never transferred cash to someone so quickly in his life.

(Yes, not even when the food court on campus was doing a BOGO promo for churros. That’s the extent of how whipped his ass is, period.)

x x x x x

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ��Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

“Listen, I’m seriously not forcing you to do this,” Seokjin starts, even though he’s giving his utmost effort to further embarrass Yoongi by handing out flyers about Hug-o-gram’s newest employee. “Please, take one!” he cajoles, offering a flyer to a gaggle of giggling freshmen. “Make sure to reserve a hug within the week! Yoongi-chi over here is on his way to becoming employee of the month if he gets ten requests by Friday!” They all point and whisper at Yoongi, and he swears he hears one of them wolf whistle in admiration.

“That’s what makes this entire thing terrible. I’m doing this on my own volition, and I absolutely abhor myself for it,” Yoongi moans, grabbing Seokjin’s stack of flyers and smacking himself in the head with them. It probably would’ve hurt more when Seokjin still had a full-stack, but people had swarmed them the moment they entered the heart of the campus, everyone curious to see Yoongi in his interesting attire.

Seokjin might have been famous for creating the Hug-o-gram Service, but Yoongi was famous for hating the business idea, so it’s easy to understand why everyone was interested. (For good reason, he thinks darkly to himself.)

“Damn, Yoongi-chi. Looks like you’re trending on the campus Reddit page,” Seokjin laughs, wheezing even harder when Yoongi points him with a murderous glare. “What? Like you said, this was all your idea.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask to wear… whatever this is!” Yoongi whines, tugging on the string around his neck. The cardboard sign had been ready and prepared the moment they arrived home the other day, arousing Yoongi’s suspicions on Seokjin’s actual involvement in his current predicament. Those suspicions are put in the backburner for now, however, as Yoongi actually feels like he might die of embarrassment instead of the packets of MSG coursing through his veins from the ten ramen packs he ate this morning. Maybe both will kill him, if he’s lucky.

“Well, I would love to lend you my uniform, but I haven’t gotten a t-shirt printed with your face on it yet, so you’ll have to deal with the kitten ears and cardboard sign for now,” Seokjin says, patting him on the back. “Or, would you rather I have you wear a shirt with my face on it? I’m open to suggestions.”

“I’d rather swallow a Tide pod, thanks,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth. “C’mon, let’s move. We’ve been standing in the middle of campus like street clowns for long enough. We need to find Y/N because her class is about to end.”

“Street clowns, huh? I guess you are only missing the make-up to complete the look, especially since you seem adamant to keep honking your way through that sickening crush of yours.” Seokjin nearly catches a punch to the head, but his superior reaction time saves him from Yoongi’s sorely lacking physicality. He snatches Yoongi by the hand, dragging them towards your lecture hall. “C’mon, clown! Let’s honk this bread!”

As the two of them get closer to where you are, Yoongi’s heartbeat begins to accelerate. He wonders idly if he should see a doctor after all this, hoping that he hadn’t actually contracted heart disease due to all this stress. Lord forbid that he meet his end before he even gets to ask you out or something!

Even though he’s already hugged you once (and it was, by far, the most euphoric experience of his sad, miserable life), he still finds himself getting clammy hands at the thought of seeing you again. Nevermind the fact that he looked like a walking circus with his get-up… No, Yoongi refuses to think about it anymore, lest his last remaining brain wrinkle irreversibly smoothens.

The campus clock rings loudly, signaling the end of another block of classes. Students rush out of the buildings, with you being one of the first ones out for a change. When Yoongi spots your head of hair among the crowd, he doesn’t immediately notice what you’re wearing at first. In fact, it’s Seokjin who stops in his tracks for a moment, surprised by how you look.

“Woah, Y/N! Looking good,” Seokjin greets, rushing past Yoongi to envelop you in a hug. (A platonic hug, Yoongi reminds himself. Because unlike Yoongi, Seokjin is a normal human being who can give hugs to anyone he wants because he’s… fucking Seokjin! Lucky bastard that he is.)

“Woah!” You laugh, surprised by the sudden hug. You pat him on the back giddily, allowing him to swing you around a little. “What’s this all about? Am I getting a hug-o-gram again?”

“Yes, you are. But not from me,” Seokjin detaches himself from you, scooting away to point at Yoongi. When Seokjin moves away, Yoongi finally understands why his hyung had said you looked good. No, that was an understatement––you looked [redacted].

(For the sake of the author’s fragile ash-coated heart, she has chosen to redact Yoongi’s exact words to protect herself from slamming her head against a keyboard from how cheesy this fic is becoming. Let’s just say the word starts with a B and ends with an L. Make of that as you will.)

You must have come out of an interview or presentation of sorts because you were dressed more nicely than you usually do, which is a pretty big deal considering how put together you always looked. Your hair is styled nicely, obviously given much more care and effort than your regular appearance. You’re wearing a cute little black dress, long enough to be professional but short enough to give Yoongi breathing problems.

If Yoongi’s brain had a playlist, it would be nothing but the sound of him going HNNNNNNNNNG on repeat.

“Oh geez.” Yoongi curses lowly, smiling through the pain. This is fine, he thinks, even though it is clearly not fine. Yoongi has always been a terrible liar.

“Yoongi?” You sound incredulous, though that’s honestly a win in Yoongi’s book considering everything. You didn’t look disgusted, so that’s great. “You look…” You stop yourself, covering your mouth to hide your grin but your amusement is palpable. At least he made you laugh, he supposes.

“Like a fucking idiot? You said it,” Yoongi snorts, arms crossed defiantly. He’s trying to look intimidating, but with his cheeks puffed up and these abominable kitten ears on his head, he looks more like a grumpy cat throwing a tantrum. He juts a thumb at Seokjin, “Thank this himbo for the outfit. I definitely would have chosen something more… inconspicuous.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You quip, still trying to mask your giggles. On the other hand, Seokjin was wheezing like a hyena, his phone pulled out and presumably filming Yoongi to add to his cringe compilation.

“Exactly what I said!” Seokjin says through his laughter, tears of mirth streaming down his face. He walks back to Yoongi, pushing him forward until he’s face to face with you. “Go on, then! We haven’t got all day!”

“I’m assuming you’re officially part of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram business now?” you ask, opening your arms wide to accept his hug. Like the beta male that he is, Yoongi has to be the one to follow in your footsteps, meekly coming closer to wrap you in an embrace.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yoongi mutters, tucking his chin onto your shoulder. He feels you vibrate with laughter, bringing a small smile on his own face. He likes making you laugh, always has.

With the cardboard sign serving as a barrier between the two of you, he isn’t as fearful of you feeling the erratic beat of his heart, though it wouldn’t be hard to guess if you looked at him. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy your hug rather than just panic through the entire ordeal like yesterday.

Soon enough, you’re detaching yourself from him, still standing close. Your arm is just a hair’s breadth away, and if not for Seokjin enthusiastically videotaping this entire experience, Yoongi might have closed in for another hug if he could manage.

“It’s always nice to get a hug from someone you like, huh?” You say, cheeks tinted a rosy color. The true meaning of your words flies over Yoongi’s head, as his feeble mind chooses to focus on your comment a little differently.

“I––Of course I like you! We’re friends, aren’t we?” Yoongi laughs nervously, unaware that he’s slowly digging himself into a ditch. To the side, Seokjin audibly slaps a hand to his face, body shivering with secondhand embarrassment from being blasted by the full force of how idiotic his friend actually is.

Yoongi sees you deflate a little, further confusing him. “Yeah, you’re right I guess…” You sigh, taking a step backward dejectedly. Yoongi flounders a little, unsure how he managed to fuck up in just a few seconds when you had just hugged him like your life depended on it.

Choosing now to interfere before the going gets rough, Seokjin steps in between and slings an arm around both of you. Yoongi groans under the weight of his arm, glaring when he notices that Seokjin had done it on purpose, but only to him. You don’t look too bothered by his rude gesture, albeit you were more befuddled than before.

“Hey, Y/N! I don’t know if you’ve ever ordered a hug-o-gram before, but I’m doing a special this week! Now that Yoongi-chi has so kindly joined the team,” Seokjin gives him a pointed look, to which the black-haired music major sticks his tongue out petulantly, “we’re doing a little promotion for first-time customers! Would you be interested in ordering one?”

Your eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “M-me? Ordering a hug-o-gram? Well, I…” you hesitate, sending a small glance at Yoongi before looking away in embarrassment. “I would like to, but I don’t know if it’ll be well received, you see…”

Seokjin grumbles, silently cursing the stupid shithead who caused his own demise in the first place. The worst part is that he had no idea that he totally just friendzoned you! YOU! Someone who was literally leagues ahead of him. He sincerely has no idea what you see in this bumbling idiot, but everyone with a brain knows that you have been crushing on him for as long as he’s been crushing on you, so perhaps you’re a little bit of an idiot yourself for liking him back.

Being friends with the two of you makes him feel like he’s constantly wearing a sloppy wet diaper, and he hates it. He wants to wipe his ass as soon as possible!

Seokjin shoves Yoongi away roughly, ignoring his indignant squawks as he pulls you aside. He takes you by the hand, taking you a few steps away from Yoongi, far enough that he can whisper into your ear without the other boy hearing.

Yoongi fumes from the sidelines, trying to keep his emotions in check even though he’s bursting at the seams with jealousy. Not for the first time, Yoongi irritably realizes that he does act like a cat, especially in moments like this. He might make fun of Seokjin for being an attention whore, but Yoongi is the same, if only at a smaller scale. He just wants you to look at him, as selfish as that sounds.

Can someone give him a break? He’s been holding in his crush for four years now… Imagine having to take a massive shit after drinking two gallons of milk while being lactose intolerant, except every time you line up for the washroom, the line gets increasingly long no matter how long you wait. That is the extent of his suffering, he tells himself. So please, excuse his dramatics for this one instance.

(Seokjin’s Note: This fucking jackass is SO stupid. If he only knew how easy it is to ask you out, he would know that his emotional constipation could be solved if he just fucking ASKED where the next washroom is. He could have relieved himself ages ago, but NO! And he calls me the idiot! Me! The utter betrayal! I’m never agreeing to become the second lead to a rom-com ever again!)

When Seokjin finishes whispering in your ears, you appear amused by what he had said. Yoongi sweats when you turn to face him, grinning slyly at him. “Is that so…” you wonder aloud. Yoongi feels like the world has shifted on its axis somewhat, though he still doesn’t know exactly how. He has a hunch that he’s going to find out soon enough.

“Would I ever lie to you?” Seokjin laughs that annoying laugh of his, slapping his thigh in the process. He straightens up almost immediately, his expression turning deadpan in an instant. “Send me the details by tonight, and I’ll make sure to deliver it, okay?”

“Promise?” You ask, holding a pinky up towards him. Yoongi might have let out a high pitched sob when he sees the gesture, wanting nothing more than to cup your hands in his. God, if he already nearly died from hugging you, who is to say Yoongi won’t immediately disintegrate if you were ever to hold his hand?

“Promise,” Seokjin replies, linking his pinky with yours. He doesn’t forget to point a shit-eating grin at Yoongi, for good measure.

You pull away, looking happier than you did moments prior. You were absolutely glowing, filling Yoongi with a warmth that only you ever knew how to provide. He wants to make you smile like that all the time, wants nothing more than for you to live beside him, filling his walls with the sound of your tinkling laughter. You wave cheerily at the both of them, stepping away to head home. “I guess I’ll see you, then? I’ll make sure to e-mail you my request, Seokjin!” you say, winking teasingly. “Bye to you too, Yoongi! Thanks for the hug!”

Yoongi watches as you walk further and further away as the usual melancholy that follows whenever you leave soon takes its place in his soul. It might be his imagination, but Yoongi thinks the cat ears on his head might have started to droop to match his mood.

The only way he knows how to replace the sadness, however, is by redirecting those emotions on an unsuspecting victim. Lucky for him, a willing volunteer is already within punching distance.

“Ow! Stop punching me, you gremlin!” Seokjin whines, blocking Yoongi’s series of punches like a pro. He might as well put ‘professional punching bag’ on his resume at this point. “I’m trying to help you, you useless beta male!”

“How is this helping! You made me wear cat ears and whispered blasphemies into Y/N’s ears! Now she’s going to order a hug-o-gram for her crush and it’ll be the end of my chances with her! How could you!”

“I was not whispering blasphemies, you twittering tit! I was giving her advice,” Seokjin sniffs, annoyed. “Don’t say I never help you, by the way. I’ve been trying to help you for years now.”

Yoongi hits him with a steely glare. “Really? So replacing all my clothes in my closet with clown attire is your version of help? I had to wear those stupid clown shoes for a week before you told me where you hid my clothes, jackass!”

“I was only trying to help you physically express yourself! You’re already a clown on paper, might as well help you achieve your final form!” Seokjin huffs, infuriatingly haughty. “Listen, believe me. I only told Y/N something that everyone already knows anyway, so just shut your trap and let Daddy handle the rest. You’re not going to lose her, I promise.”

“Please never refer to yourself as Daddy ever again,” Yoongi seethes, stalking off towards their car. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

“No talk, Yoobie angy…” Seokjin snickers to himself, following Yoongi with a spring in his step. This bastard is going to grovel at his feet by tomorrow evening, he’s sure of it. If he doesn’t, then Seokjin will bite his own dick in half––that’s how sure he is of his plan! (Not that biting his dick in half will do anything to his length; he’d still be left with eight inches, let’s be real.) All in good time.

x x x x x

Seokjin gets an e-mail the next morning, much earlier than any sane person would choose to be awake at. He groans lowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tries to read the contents of the letter. When he’s satisfied by what he has read, he forwards the e-mail to Yoongi before allowing sleep to take him once more.

Sleep evades him, however, when the sound of Yoongi’s big feet pounds noisily outside his bedroom. He hits his knee loudly against the coffee table, causing their beloved popcorn machine to tumble to the floor, but that is of little consequence to Yoongi right now. No, he needs to get into Seokjin’s room right now and scream––

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Yoongi hollers, slamming Seokjin’s door open. The hinges creak, desperately hanging on despite the impact. Yoongi proceeds to slam a fist upon Seokjin’s ass, who barely flinches due to the fatness of his ass cushioning most of the damage. He blinks blearily at Yoongi, but the smirk on his face is clear as day.

“Came to claim your hug so early in the morning? Well, I usually don’t entertain clients until after I’ve taken a shower, but for you… I’ll make an exception,” he yawns, peeling back his blanket and patting the empty spot on his bed. “Come on in, Yoobie Boobie… Let’s hug like it’s the last day on earth.”

Seokjin fails to realize that once he removed his blanket, he had inadvertently left himself vulnerable. Yoongi slams the heel of his foot against Seokjin’s groin, causing him to shriek bloody murder at 7 AM. He wonders, amidst his pain, whether this might be the last straw and that their landlord will finally kick them out after years of their stupid shenanigans.

“WHAT DID THAT E-MAIL MEAN? IF IT’S WHAT I THINK IT IS…” Yoongi threatens, but it’s as empty as Seokjin’s butthole. They both know the implications of that e-mail, even a toddler can put two and two together and make sense out of it. Anonymous e-mail or not, Seokjin wouldn’t just forward any hug-o-gram request to Yoongi, unless…

What did the e-mail say? It goes something like:

Dear Mr. Kim,

Thank you for offering your special promotion for new time customers of your Hug-o-gram Service! I’ve always been a quiet fan of your business idea, but I’ve always been a little shy to submit a request of my own. Thank you so much for giving me the little push that I needed to send my first (and hopefully last) hug.

I’d like to send a hug to Mr. Min Yoongi from the Music Department. I understand that he has recently been appointed an employee at your business, but seeing as how it’d be difficult for him to hug himself (while not entirely impossible), I’d like to request that you be the one to send the hug to him.

I don’t really have a message for him, per se… I’m still a little shy, even though you already told me that there is no reason to be. I want to believe what you said was true, so I’m pushing my fear aside and putting my fate into your hands. So, to Mr. Min Yoongi… “When I told you it was nice to hug someone you like, I don’t think you understood what I meant. A hug, after all, is a two-way street. They’re often served the best when it is reciprocated, if you catch my drift. :)”

Peace! :3

Regards,

[Redacted] [Redacted]

“Have your brain synapses finished connecting? Because if even this flies over your head, I’m sorry to say buddy but… You might have smooth brain syndrome,” Seokjin pipes up. He observes Yoongi’s brow crumpling, the first signal of his impending mental breakdown. If Seokjin remembers correctly, the next signal should be when––

Yoongi drops down to his knees, his phone clattering to the floor as he stares absently at the ceiling. Seokjin cringes, worried for the state of his friend’s frail kneecaps. The poor sap has bad heart health already; surely, it isn’t too early to get him a life alert button?

Seokjin scooches over his bed, dangling half his body over the edge to appraise his friend. “So. What do you plan to do now?”

For a moment, Yoongi remains silent. Eventually, he shuffles closer to him, perching his hands around Seokjin. The business student raises a brow, confused, until Yoongi pushes Seokjin back onto the middle of the bed so that he can cram himself beside Seokjin on his small double bed. He huffs amusedly, allowing the smaller boy to snuggle into his chest, though he still refuses to wrap his arms around him. Close enough, Seokjin snorts.

“I need your help, hyung.” Yoongi’s voice is small, shy. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Seokjin immediately softens. They might act like toddlers together the majority of the time, but Seokjin truly does care about Yoongi more than anything. During early mornings like this, when the sun’s soft rays are filtering through his sheer curtains and filling the room with a gentle warmth, it’s nice to cuddle up with one another and enjoy the silence. In fact, Seokjin would never admit it to Yoongi, but he got the idea for his Hug-o-gram service from Yoongi himself, back when the younger boy would be more prone to sneaking into his bed during his bouts of loneliness and homesickness.

Above all else, Yoongi is just a boy with a lot of love to give, so who is Seokjin to say no to his pleas for help?

“You know I always got your back, Yoongi-chi. Whenever you’re ready, we can do whatever you want. Ask and you’ll receive,” he replies, caressing his soft black tresses. Yoongi hums, smiling softly into his chest.

“Thanks, dude. For being… you know.”

Seokjin’s heart pangs a little, but he ignores it. Instead, he continues combing through his hair, humming gently. “I know.”

x x x x x

It’s been a few days since you sent the e-mail to Seokjin and you haven’t heard back from him. You aren’t sure if he sends confirmation e-mails to his clients as you’d never asked for a hug-o-gram before, nor did you know anyone who has. You are forced to continue on with your days like normal, trying to ignore the unsettling anxiety from creeping up your throat and spewing all over the sidewalk.

If Seokjin hadn’t been lying to you, then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. You’ve been harboring this crush on Yoongi for years now, and you never thought in your life that it would ever be reciprocated. He always seemed a little bit detached, a little too cool for you. Never mind the fact that he always seemed so jittery around you, like it was hard to talk to you or something!

Your answer comes on the last day of the week, after an especially rough day at class. Your back is bent, having finished a grueling four hour lab period where you did nothing but stand and stare at your reaction vessel spinning without any signal of change. You are just a little bit hangry from all the stress piling up on your plate, especially since you hadn’t eaten a decent meal since breakfast at 8 AM.

In short, life isn’t going as smoothly as you’d hoped for your senior year, but you can’t let the blues get to you too soon. After all, there are leftover chicken wings in your fridge with your name on it, and nothing beats your meat more than greasy poultry to end a terrible week.

You’re only inches away from sliding your keycard to open your shared dorm room when the door opens without prompting. You flinch backward, yelping loudly when your roommate Park Jimin grins slyly from the doorway––never a good sign, if you knew anything.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jimin says, leaning casually against the door like he hadn’t just scared the living shit out of you. He takes one glance at your disheveled hair and lightly sweaty clothes before grimacing in disgust. “Girl, I can’t let you meet the love your life while you’re looking like that. Come on, we have a few minutes before he arrives. Let’s get you freshened up.”

“I’m sorry?” You squeak, allowing your roommate to manhandle you into your own home. He pushes you into your room, depositing you roughly onto your unmade bed. You try to make eye contact with him, but he’s too busy raiding your closet to pay you much attention. “Excuse me? What did you say just now?”

“No time, princess! Your Prince Charming is on the way, and I’ve been ordered by Seokjin to prepare you for this life-changing moment, so get your ass into gear and change into this!” He shoves a clean pair of jeans and a nicer-looking blouse at you before proceeding to grab your hairbrush and comb your tresses with the gentleness of a mother tigress. You shriek when the brush gets tangled in an especially stubborn knot, but Jimin is relentless. He nearly tears your hair by the roots, ignoring your pained whines.

“Will you fucking stop! I have literally no idea why you’re acting like a psycho all of a sudden–” You shout when Jimin begins to undress you, having to kick him in the chest to get him away from completely eradicating your remaining traces of dignity. “Okay, fine! I’ll dress myself! Just get out of my room and fucking stay away!”

Jimin looks at you dubiously for a split second, before eventually acquiescing. “You have two minutes to get changed. You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, do you?” he says, smirking knowingly. He better dread the day that you finally wipe that annoying twinkle in his eye; it’s been a long time coming.

Left alone to your own devices, you do as Jimin says even though you’re still wildly confused by everything. To think you had been so excited to feast on your chicken wings, and instead, you went through a decade’s worth of torture within the last few minutes. Patting your hands on the butt of your jeans, you meekly take a step out of your bedroom, where Jimin is already tapping his foot impatiently by the door.

He motions for you to hurry up. “Let’s go! Seokjin says they’re rounding up the corner. Hold on,” he steps closer to you, raising your arm up to take a shameless sniff of your pits. “Sorry, had to make a pit stop. You can never be too sure,” he shrugs, disregarding your squawks of indignation.

“I smell fine! Now what are we–” Your sentence is cut short as Jimin all but carries you to the elevator, your shrieks of terror causing one or two of your neighbors to peek their heads out of their doors. When they see it’s just the two of you, they simply shrug their shoulders, returning to their lives like it was normal to see Jimin carry you in a fireman’s hold.

He doesn’t put you down until you reach the lobby of your dorm complex, barely out of breath despite having held you the entire way down. Stupid buff baby, you groan internally to yourself, straightening down your clothes in a desperate attempt to look decent. “Okay, we’re here. Who am I supposed to be meeting?”

In lieu of an answer, Jimin points wordlessly outside your building. A black car is parked on the other side of the road, and you can barely see a familiar head of hair poking out from the driver’s seat. “Seokjin? What the…” you trail off, before your eyes finally land on their target.

Yoongi stands outside the glass doorway, not dressed in his usual all-black attire. He’s wearing an outrageously cute pink shirt today, matching the color of his natural flush. He always looks effortlessly good, with his hair a little windswept in that boyishly cute way. Your mouth goes a little dry when you realize he’s wearing his famous leather jacket, the one that always got the girls and boys swooning when he walked past in them. You hated how whipped for him you were, not wanting to be like the weird kids in his secret fan club, but who can blame you? He’s just so…

You rip open the door, nearly tripping and falling over the short steps leading to the entrance. You grind to a halt in front of him and you’re acutely aware of how rabid you must look. Your chest is pounding, like your heart is begging you to step closer, just like when you had hugged him all those days ago. God, you were going to kill Park Jimin for this.

“Yoongi? What are you…” You take one look at him before your gaze drops to his hands folded carefully behind his back. It doesn’t hide the fact that there is an obvious bouquet of flowers behind him, though. Your face lights on fire when you notice they were your favorite flowers too.

“I’m here to deliver a hug?” Yoongi says it like he’s unsure of himself, but there’s a little coyness laced in his tone. His cheeks are painted a soft pink, and not for the first time, they remind you of freshly baked bread pulled out from the oven. Soft enough to kiss, you wonder idly to yourself.

“I mean… I did order a hug a few days ago, but I do recall not ordering one for myself?” you laugh a little hysterically, your breath cutting short when Yoongi grins softly in response. “I… Who is this hug from?”

Yoongi takes a glance back towards Seokjin. “Hey, boss. Am I allowed to reveal who the secret admirers are, or will that get me fired?”

Seokjin, despite being a few meters away, laughs loud enough for the whole street to hear. “Well, Yoongi-chi. Something tells me your resignation letter was coming in the mail eventually. Who cares about the rules at this point?”

“He’s right,” you quip, pulling Yoongi’s attention back. You’re smiling wide now, your hopes and dreams skyrocketing in your chest and blooming a garden in your heart. “Who cares, right?”

“Right,” Yoongi agrees, taking the last two steps he needs to get closer to you. He drops the bouquet somewhere behind you before finally, finally, embracing you once more. He kisses you gently on the forehead, the contact short and sweet.

You feel like you’re dying, but it’s all good because Yoongi looks just as embarrassed as you. But none of it matters, not when both your happiness is palpable in the air.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“This hug-o-gram is from me to you. Will you go out with me?”

You’ve always been a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. So when you lean in to plant your first kiss of many many more, he knows your answer well enough.

#bangtanarmynet #btsboulangerie #armiesnet #bts scenarios #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #bts fluff #college!au #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #yoongi scenarios #suga scenarios #yoongi fluff #bts suga #bangtan #bts fanfic #btsghostie #why am i even pretending like i write angst anymore... who am i #i feel like ive forgotten who i am LMAOOOO

[angsty-omi]

second best.

tanaka ryūnosuke x reader; tanaka ryūnosuke x kyoko shimizu

genre: angst, heartbreak, cheating

word count: 1.5k

cw: insecurity

She was beautiful. Her silky black hair, perfect nose, nicely framed glasses, and a cute mole on her chin. Anyone could see it, every volleyball team in the tri-state area attempted to get her number. Kiyoko Shimuzu was her name, and you could not help but see the way your boyfriend looks at her.

The three of you went to school together, since primary. A trio, one would call it ever since the third grade. At recess, kids would say, “It’s no surprise that Y/N, Kiyoko, and Tanaka are all partnered together.” and during a specific game of soccer, you accidentally tripped over the ball and skid your knee. You bit your lip hard, trying not to cry in front of everyone. Your eyes were watery, at the fact that your knee hurt like hell and now everyone was staring at you. To your surprise, Tanaka ran over to you to help you up and guide you to the clinic. When you got there, the nurse sat you down and poured alcohol onto cotton balls. Tanaka offered his hand, and you gripped it lightly, with a slight shade of pink on your cheeks. It was a cute moment until the nurse dabbed onto your joint. Then, you tightly squeezed Tanaka’s hand and screamed some very colorful words. That night, your mom scolded you and sent you straight to your room. While you lay on your bed, you could not help but smile at the event that happened that afternoon. This was the start of your attraction towards Tanaka Ryūnosuke.

When you got to middle school, puberty started to hit you like a truck. The rapid growth of hormones made your face acne-infested. While everyone told you it was normal, you could not help but question why does Kiyoko’s face not look like this then? Her skin was clear and had a nice dew to it. The amount of money spent on drug store products could buy you a whole store. Acne was inevitable, already eating at your brain, and planting their seed called insecurity. Tanaka would always call Kiyoko terms like, ‘gorgeous’ and ‘goddess’ while you had what- ‘funny’? The summer going into high school, you decided to get medical help. Immediately, you were put on accutane. You did not want to see anyone during that whole summer, especially Tanaka. Accutane made your face very dry, crackled, and forced you to put on chapstick every minute. Locking yourself into your room all summer, made you lonely.

Sometimes, you could hear Tanaka and Kiyoko walk by your house and hear them say, “Has Y/N ever responded to your texts? It’s like she’s a ghost.” Tanaka asked.

“Nope, she hasn’t even answered to get our nails done, she must seriously be ghosting us,” Kiyoko responded.

You tear up at the guilt of ignoring your closest friends, but it’s hard when you’re in love with one of them and envious of the other. You did not want your toxic mindset upheld against them, so you justified that it was just for the best.

When fall came around, it was back to school. Your first year. The Accutane, though traumatizing, worked. In addition, being trapped in your room all day introduced you to makeup. Looking in the mirror, you actually started to like what you saw in the mirror. You’ve learned self-care and it paid off. Scanning the sheets on the wall, it looked like Tanaka was in your class and Kiyoko was in the honors one.

“Class 2-B” you read aloud to yourself and sat down at a desk. You left the one seat open next to you, just for Tanaka. When you saw him walk in, your heart skipped a beat. He looked different, in a good way. His hair was shaved, taller, and looked more mature. When you waved over to him, he just glared at you and sat at the seat farthest from you. This made your heart drop. Why was he acting like this? Did I do something? Does he not want to be my friend anymore? Questions rambling in your head. During lunch, you headed over to his desk and pulled the chair behind you to sit down. He just stared at you intently, furrowing his brows signifying anger.

“Ryo-channn, look what I brought,” you gleefully rang, knowing that he would never in a million years refuse your mom’s onigiris. When you took out your bento, you grabbed the onigiri with your hand and put it near his mouth. Still looking at you angrily, he took a bite from the onigiri in your hand and looked away from you.

“What’s wrong?” you worried. He did not respond, so you asked again. “You can’t just act like I don’t exist Ryo, especially if you’re eating from my invisible hand.”

“That’s funny, me acting like YOU don’t exist when you ghosted me for three months? I thought we were best friends, Y/N.” Now, you finally understood why he was so upset. Before you could speak up, there was a knock at the entrance, “Ryo, want to grab lunch together?” Kiyoko said in a monotone voice. It seems that Kiyoko too was also mad at you. You could not help it though, you and Kiyoko were basically sisters up until that summer. “Yeah, let me grab my stuff,” Ryo picked up all his belongings and left you in the dust.

That day, you waited for both of them after practice. Kiyoko was a manager and Tanaka was on the team. Two birds, one stone. When they walked out together, they both saw you. Murmuring to each other. You took a deep breath, “Listen, I’m sorry for not texting you guys back and not spending time with you during the summer. I-it’s just that I felt so i-insecure with myself, I didn’t want to bring you guys down with me y’know?” Tears started welling up in your eyes, you continued, “I would hear you guys talk about me when you passed by my house, and it took everything I had to not just run out and hug you guys. But, I couldn’t. I hated myself for the longest time and I was scared that you two would start to notice it. So, I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore, but you guys needed an explanation.” You sighed and started to turn around and leave. You fell to your feet, with two bodies tackling you down. “G-guys?” your eyes are still watery. Laughter emitted from their voices, “Don’t do it again or else we will kill you,” Kiyoko threatened.

It was the final set, both teams were tied. Yamaguchi was serving and Aoba Johsai hit it back with ease. The rally probably lasted around a minute, but to everyone, it was slowed down. Until, Tanaka passed the ball to Kageyama, and everyone thought he’d set it Hinata. Instead, he setter dumped. The crowd was silent, not realizing what just happened. Karasuno just won the preliminaries. Every student screamed and chanted at them. You and a couple of other people ran down to congratulate. You ran up to Tanaka’s arms and squeezed him. He swung you around joyfully, and you pulled your face back. There was a moment where it felt like it was just the two of you. The adrenaline of winning finally got to you, and you impulsively kissed him. It lasted maybe around a second or two before you finally realized what you were doing. Mortified, you were rambling with apologies.

“Can you please just forget this ever happen-” he cut you off. Warm lips were pressed onto your lips. You were shocked at first but slowly sunk into the kiss. This was the start of your relationship with Tanaka Ryūnosuke.

Kiyoko never spoke about her feelings about her best friends dating. In fact, she hated it. But it was out of character for her to be so opinionated. She could not stand the fact that you guys would cuddle during movie night nor how he would hold your hand during the walk home. She did not necessarily like Tanaka that way, but she did miss the attention he gave her. Who wouldn’t want someone calling you pretty 24/7? And to reject them was a power move. No one would ever know, but he was the reason why her confidence shot up. The confidence to reject handsome men on different teams. All started because of Tanaka. Although, now that he was with you, the flirting stopped. She could feel herself start to become jealous and it started to infect her brain. During practice, Yachi would gush about how cute you and Tanaka were while Kiyoko just had to listen.

“Y/N is too cute,” Yachi cheesed. Kiyoko couldn't take it anymore, “Listen, I am way prettier than Y/N and Tanaka could do much better” it just slipped out. She was surprised at what she just said, and even more surprised that she didn’t even feel an ounce of guilt.

“Like you?” a voice appeared. It was Tanaka. “R-Ryo,” she muttered. “We should talk outside.”

Once they were both outside, Tanaka spoke first.

“You don’t get to do this. You rejected me countless times and now t-that I’m with someone you can’t just profess your feelings for me.” Tanaka hissed.

“I-I know, it’s just- I didn’t realize what I had until I lost it. Imagine how I feel seeing you guys together, the man I love with someone else. Someone who is inferior to me.” Tears welled up in Kiyoko’s eyes.

“Do you even hear yourself right now? Love? Please. You don’t love me. You never will.” He bit his lip sharply.

Silence.

“Then look at me and tell me you don’t love me. Because not once have you said that you didn’t feel the same way, you only said that you were dating Y/N” Kiyoko sobbed.

“You know I can’t do that,” Tanaka whispered. Then, Kiyoko leeched on him, pressing her lips against his. He wasn’t kissing back, but he wasn’t pulling away either. He was conflicted. He was too dazed and decided to just give in.

Little did they both know, there you were watching at the scene. Well, now you were hiding behind a wall, peeking at them, kissing. You could physically hear your heart-shattering. After wiping the nonstop tears flowing on your face, you left.

Grief turned into anger. You threw every picture, gift, and sweater into the trash bag. Your eyes only saw red. Your room was left bare and cold. The bedroom door knocked in a rhythmic beat that only one person did. When he walked in, his eyes gazed at every spot in your room. It was empty.

You looked down at the ground, “I always knew I was second best in your heart.” You whispered, tears threatening your eyes. “What?” His face contorted in a confused stance. “I should’ve seen it coming y’know? But I just thought maybe— maybe he’d pick me.” You continued. He started getting worried, “What’re you talking about?” The fact that he was here, blatantly lying to you, gives you all the answers you needed.

“Please don’t act like that, not with me”

“Act like what?”

“Clueless. Ry-Tanaka,” you corrected yourself. “If you love her, then go for it. But don’t act like you’re still in love with me. It hurts-” Your voice broke mid-sentence.

“It was a mistake,” He pleaded.

“A mistake? No, mistakes happen impulsively. T-This whole thing with Kiyoko was premeditated. All my life, I have been trying to compete with her. Grades, appearances, and even you. And when I had you, I thought, I had won. I won the best prize ever. You. But now-” You dropped to your knees, “I don’t even have you.”

He wiped your tears with his hands, “But you do, you do have me,”

“No, no I don’t,” you denied.

“Yes you do baby, I’m right here. I choose you.”

You were not some decision, you were his girlfriend and yet, he thought that would make you happier. “Nonono, you don’t get it. I don’t want you anymore. These tears aren’t for you, they’re for me. Seeing you kiss Kiyoko? I felt nothing and that scared me. Maybe I wasn’t in love with you, maybe I just wanted to beat Shimizu that bad. Who knows? But, by the looks of it, I did win. I got to you first.” You punctuated every word, prying his hands off your face. Of course, you were lying your ass off. You’ve loved this man ever since that day in recess. Revenge had poisoned your heart though, and you wanted him to feel an ounce of you were feeling.

“We’re done. There I have let you go, now you are free to do anything you want with Kiyoko. Date her or reject her, it’s not my issue anymore.” Tanaka couldn’t even recognize you anymore. Though it was your voice and your physical look, it was like your soul had been drained, and in replacement was someone who was cold and emotionless.

A/N: I’m back! I’ve fixed my writing style so everything is capitalized properly. Requests are greatly appreciated! Just shoot a message. Also, this story was inspired by my drabble and a person actually asked me to write one for Tanaka, so here you go @aestheticno !

likes & repubs are greatly appreciated. :D

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #tanaka x you #hq tanaka #tanaka angst #hq kiyoko #tanaka fluff

[oftenderweapons]

Illicit Affairs — Hoseok

Pairing: Hoseok x reader (nicknamed Giggles)

Wordcount: 11.2k

Genre: Smut. A tiny little bit of angst and fluff too but. Smut.

Rating: 18+

Hi bumblebees! Thank you for staying with me so far and for being so kind with hey works and my continuously shifting schedule.

Quick plot! Hoseok and Giggles have just met: Giggles was the substitute for Mickey’s vet and she helped the doggo and Hoseok during an emergency, however the hour they spent together was enough for Hoseok to develop a quite intense crush for the young woman. He decides he wants to invite her to a date and picks his apartment as the location, going out of his way to try to impress her. However, the elegant dinner miserably crashes once his poor nerves abandon him. Fortunately, Giggles can take the reins, but is also willing to give them up at the right moment.

Special thanks to beta extraordinaire, @hobiandsprite​ I really love you. Please, don’t be sad and let those giggles out every now and then.

Moving on to The Big Stuff.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, swearing. Basic BDSM training, Sir!Hoseok x sub!reader; safe sex, briefest mentions of masturbation (male and female), grinding, humping, making out, lots of tongue action, food play (and very messy one at it), cum play, cum eating, mild choking kink, one (1) breast slap, mild fetishism (panties, perfume/smells). Hoseok is overall very controlling, especially while he’s giving her basic training. There’s some sort of exhibitionism (if you like,,,, squint). Also Hoseok is a neurotic mess, Giggles is also quite tense and both like each other a lot, which leads to a few moments of weakness here and there. Mentions of vet emergency (don’t worry, Mickey is doing alright, he was just suffering from the hot temperatures).

Here you can check my full masterlist

Enjoy 💜✨

Jung Hoseok was nervous.

He was tense, palms sweating, nape drenched in perspiration.

He was a ball of nerves and he had never felt like this in a long time. Maybe ever since his first performance in the U.S.

Not like the day of their debut, but close.

And all of this for a stupid date.

He just wanted to know you, see if the image he had built of you actually corresponded with your actual personality.

He cracked his neck and shoulders, pacing back and forth, wondering if it were a good idea having you at his place.

After all, you were Mickey’s vet. He could be safe with you, right? You wouldn’t expose him now, would you?

It was the first time he ever brought someone in his home and he was way too nervous to feel comfortable.

He immediately picked up his phone.

“Jung. Hoseok. I don’t even know why I picked up this call. Why aren’t you getting prepped and polished for your date?” Yoongi’s voice was quiet and gravelly from the other side. It was seven pm, he shouldn’t have been sleeping, Hoseok mused, shaking his head once he realised Yoongi was spending the weekend with Kitten and the two had probably been dozing off on the sofa all afternoon.

“I think I fucked up. I like this apartment, I can’t jeopardise my home.” He panicked, finally losing his cool.

Yoongi inhaled and groaned as he stood up, leaving Kitten alone to rest undisturbed. “She seems a kind person. A smart one too. Just talk to her.”

“You know I suck at talking!” Hoseok whined, combing his hair off his forehead. “I don’t know why I want to impress her so bad.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Because you have a crush on her.”

“But I don’t even know her!” Hoseok protested, sitting on the sofa for a second before standing up again.

“That’s the key ingredient of a crush. Once you start getting to know her, you either grow out of it or fall in love.”

Hoseok cocked his head and toyed with his earlobe nervously. “Do you think she’ll like me? I mean, she looks so sweet, and so innocent and I can’t even imagine her being into—”

“Don’t judge. Strange fits sometimes work. Think Jimin and Princess. Seokjin hyung and Angel. They work. Strange, I know, but they do.”

Hoseok exhaled.

“Stop pacing. Don’t be too hard on yourself. First date is always a bumpy road. Maybe you’ll find out she’s not your thing and all these worries will be gone by the end of the night.”

“What if I like her and she doesn’t like me?”

Yoongi softened. “It’s all part of the game, Hobah.”

Hoseok nodded. “I have to go see if the chef needs help.”

Yoongi grinned. His friend was really going out of his way. Once, all he wanted were hotel rooms and quiet, curvy brunettes with so many sins they had officially given up on heaven at least a lifetime ago. “No matter how it goes, I’m sure you’ll find someone right for you.”

Hoseok nodded curtly before realising his friend couldn’t see his reply. “Thank you, Yoongi.”

“Sweep her off her feet, Casanova.”

With a bubbly laugh, Hoseok interrupted the call, headed to the private kitchenette. “Can I help you in any way?” Hoseok asked, still keeping his hands on his stomach, trying not to touch anything that could possibly cause a disaster — which considering the setting and his poor cooking skills meant everything.

“It’s okay. I can take care of everything. Don’t worry. Relax.” The chef almost wanted to take a second to pat the younger man’s back. He was probably six years his senior but the stress of a first date was timeless.

And the poor guy was sweating disastrously.

“Okay, then I’ll go check the table.” Hoseok murmured.

“Already settled. And the cake  is waiting in the fridge. It’s still too hot for it.” The chef replied as he turned off the stove since the sauce for the noodles had reached perfect texture. “Maybe a small glass of soju could help?”

Hoseok shook his hands in panic. “Oh, no. That would make it all worse. Why is it so hot in here!”

He walked away from the kitchen, once more staring at the table near the wide floor to ceiling windows. The view would soon turn stunning, the Han river running like a pitch black road, cutting the city in two, Itaewon lighting up in the distance and emerging like a glowing mirage against the night sky.

What if she’s scared of heights?

He banged his head against the wall, pacing again, texting the group chat.

HS: “What if she suffers from vertigo?”

SJ: “You didn’t place the table by the window, did you?”

Hoseok tugged at his hair, undoing a button on his shirt. Why was everything so fucking hot?!

HS: “Should I move it? I have ten minutes! I can move it.”

TH: “Don’t. You can place her with her back to the window if she feels uncomfortable.”

JK: “You’re such a loser, hyung. Relax, it will work out.”

HS: “DON’T TELL ME TO RELAX YOU UNGRATEFUL RASCAL”

JM: “Okay, let’s calm down. Personally I would feel even worse with my back to the window. You can move to the coffee table. It will feel more informal and you will FINALLY GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS,

JM: “she probably just wants to chat over fried chicken while you’re going to make her uncomfortable with all that finesse.”

NJ: “Gotta agree with Jimin on this one. She’ll simply want to chat. You’ll want to chat and get to know her.”

YG: “I told you it will be alright now stop spamming.”

HS: “AND I SUCK AT CHATTING”

JK: “yeah, you kinda ramble”

JM: “not helping Guk.”

The doorbell rang.

Fuck.

He pocketed his phone and headed to the door. “Yes?”

“Uhm… It’s confusing here, I think you need to pick me up.” You said anxiously over the intercom.

“I’m coming. Wait in the foyer.” He slipped on his shoes and got in the elevator, cracking all the joints of his fingers as it descended, going through the process again once he had cracked them all. He dumbly wished he had more fingers.

The door opened and there you stood with your back to him, your shoulders covered by a messy tumble of hair.

“Hello?” He called, making you turn around immediately.

His stomach turned upside down when you hit him with your sweetest, most radiant smile as you faced him. “Hi!”

He felt dumbstruck. You looked adorable, way too pretty for him. Way too incredible for anyone in the universe. “Hello.” He repeated, feeling a nervous smile constrict his face.

It almost looked like a grimace. For a second you thought you had somehow disappointed him. Maybe your dress was too informal? Were you too underdressed?

Staring at his outfit, you realised you were.

“You look very handsome.” You flattened your dress nervously, aware of every movement you made, feeling ridiculous.

“Oh, thank you.” He emitted the most neurotic laugh. Pull yourself together, Jung Hoseok, he innerly scolded himself before gesturing to the lift. “Shall we?”

You nodded, your glee completely lost. Staring at your dumb flats, you approached the opening doors and entered, Hoseok following suit.

You both stayed silent for a couple floors. “How was your day?” You managed to find the guts to ask.

“Uhm… Okay, I guess? My family came to pick Mickey up the other day so it’s been very quiet and a bit lonely.” He smiled but he looked sad.

You nodded. “Pets really change the whole feeling of home.”

He noticed you pressing your hands together before your lap, tucking your elbows against your sides as you tried to shrink yourself enough to disappear. You knew you should have bought a nice dress for this. You cursed your childish tastes and your sweet saffron dress, too demure and cheap for him. You had maybe spent 30,000 won on it, probably the equivalent of his shoelaces.

Screw that — obviously even his shoelaces cost more than that.

You started sucking at your lips, frowning at yourself for messing up your lipgloss. Out of nerves, you started twisting slightly side to side, your dress moving slightly with the motion, your eyes still focused on your shoes.

He was intimidating. Why in the world did you accept a date with him? He was way out of your league! All it would be was one date you would remember someday in your old years, annoying your grandchildren with that one time you had dinner at one of the most incredibly powerful and famous artists of the world.

Hoseok surreptitiously dried his palms against his trousers. He looked at you. His stomach turned again. He wondered how he would manage to eat all that food. All he could do was look at you and take in the cute freckles, that peppered your nose and cheekbones, and your arms too.

“You have freckles.” He noted absentmindedly, a thought unwillingly turned into speech.

You turned your head to him, batting your lashes confusedly. Was it a good thing or a bad thing?

“Yes.”

“You look like a strawberry.” Jung Hoseok, what the fuck.

You frowned. Again, was that good or bad?

“No one has ever told me that before,” you replied with a tense giggle.

He cocked his head at the sound. That was sweet. He liked that. Could he make you laugh like that again? “And you look very pretty in the dress. That shade of yellow really compliments you.” He confessed, feeling his whole face blush.

This felt like his first crush, when he would hide behind corners not to face the girl he liked, and when he would hide his face because it made him feel strange to be looked in the eye by her. She was way too pretty for him.

Thank the heavens, you thought as the doors finally opened on his floor.

He was drenched in sweat. He could literally feel the back of his shirt stick to his skin. He hoped you wouldn’t notice.

He smiled again, this time more relaxedly as he led the way. The lighting was perfect, the deep night sky splashing its colour over Seoul, the billowing darkness of the Han, the magical glimmering of Itaewon, like a flock of fireflies in the distance.

“Goodness gracious,” you exclaimed, walking toward the window and looking out, completely ignoring the table. “This is… It’s like flying.”

He smiled and let his shoulder sag in relief, his elated exhale cooling his heated chest. “I was panicking because it kind of hit me that you could be scared of heights. Like one of those last minute panic thoughts.”

You turned to him to comfort him. “It’s—”

You noticed the table. You noticed the gargantuan quantity of bowls and dishes and plates and cups spread all over it.

Suddenly it all made sense.

“Was this supposed to be a formal dinner?” You asked, your whole face scrunched in perplexity.

He froze in utter confusion. “Just dinner.”

“Are you okay?” You asked, looking as his left eyelid started pulsating with small flutters.

He hurriedly placed his hand over it, turning his back to you. “Yeah, just… Hot weather, blood pressure...”

You walked closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was drenched. “Jung Hoseok,” you called calmly.

You could feel his heartbeat get three times faster.

“Hoseok. Turn around,” you told him sweetly, rubbing his shoulder-blade softly, completely ignoring the way the fabric stuck to his skin.

He turned to you, still cupping the left side of his face with both hands.

“Are you nervous?” You asked, feeling the ridge of his shoulder with your fingertips.

He nodded shyly, giving you the smallest pout.

“And you got a full meal for this? Were you trying to kill me by overfeeding me?” You asked with a tiny smile.

“I— I didn’t know what you like and I hired a chef so we could have excellent food here at home and—”

“This wasn’t necessary, you know that right?” You rubbed your thumb against the muscle and bone of his shoulder. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t appreciate it, but it seems like you went maybe… slightly out of your way for this.” You noticed more details, like the flowers and the candles and… wait, he hired a chef? There was another person that would take part in your date as a silent, distant viewer?

“Is it too much?” He asked, frowning and grimacing.

You offered him a lopsided grin and tipped your head to one side, then to the other, back and forth in a so-and-so gesture.

He covered his whole face with his hands and collapsed on the sofa. “Shit, I fucked up so bad.”

You crouched down before him, making sure that the dress didn’t expose too much of your thighs. “It’s okay. Would you like to have a formal dinner?”

“I just wanted to make a good impression.” He whined, tugging at his hair once more.

You touched his forearms, trying to ease his tension before realising that you were technically strangers and maybe he didn’t like being touched. You scolded yourself for your over-tactile approach, and your dumb habit of treating everyone like abandoned puppies. Embarrassedly you placed your hands on your lap, his face raising to meet yours as he felt your fingers leave his skin. Had he done something wrong? Had he made a fool of himself one more time, without even knowing?

“You already made a good impression—”

“I wanted to confirm it!” He wailed exasperatedly.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you tried to calm him down. “We can walk this walk or do something more low-key. More... relaxing,” you suggested, smiling easily, calmly.

He could feel himself calm down. “Would it disappoint you if we just… I don’t know... ate some noodles over a glass of soju and beer?”

You giggled. “That would make me ecstatic.”

“Let me go call off the chef then.” He stood to his feet. “Thank you so much.”

You shrugged and beamed at him. “No biggie.”

In two minutes the chef came out of the kitchen, bowing at you while you still sat on the sofa. “Good evening. I wish you a good meal. I hope you’ll enjoy the food.”

“Thank you for your hard work! I’m sure I’ll enjoy it!” You replied politely and warmly, watching the man collect a bag from the entry room and bow to Hoseok as he accompanied him out.

“He had already finished cooking.” Hoseok exhaled. He looked ten years younger and significantly less stressed. “The meat had already been grilled, it just needs to be warmed up in the oven.”

“You mean there’s more food?” You asked, eyes wide in terror.

He started shaking his hands in equal fear. “We don’t have to eat that too. Maybe just a couple short ribs?” He wondered.

You stared at the rice and side dishes on the table. It was probably four times what you normally ate, and that was without considering his half of the table. “You have glass noodles?” You asked, and he nodded excitedly at your interest.

“With aubergines and mushrooms and pork belly?”

You felt your mouth water. “Can we have those though?”

He smiled excitedly. “The chef was stir frying the vegetables so we would have to finish that.”

You shrugged. “I can do that while you go get changed, if you’d like. Wear something fresh and cozy.”

He looked around nervously.

You immediately realised what was wrong. How could he let a stranger wander through his house? And he wasn’t just anyone. He was a celebrity. A famous person. What if he thought you would sneak through his private spaces and sell information about him to the press?

“Uhm—”

“Oh my god. No, it’s okay. Who would let a stranger stay in their home while they’re in the shower. Dumb me. Sorry.”

He blinked a couple times. “It's the first time I have invited someone in my house, except for my close friends.” He looked down and smiled, his cheeks shooting up in a complicated mix of sadness and joy. “I'm nervous because of that too.”

You nodded. “I know it could sound dumb to say but I care about you. And I'm not interested in gossip and press and all of that. I will respect you and your home. It's basic human decency,” you said, sitting next to him. “I only suggested you go get a change of clothes because that cannot be comfortable and I wouldn't be surprised if you wanted out of that.”

He looked up at you with big, soft eyes. “It would really be okay?”

“Yes, it would, Hobi.” You flinched at the nickname. “Hoseok. Sorry.” You wanted to tear your own tongue off.

However, just as much as you felt disappointed at yourself for the small slip, he felt warm about you calling him by a nickname. He wanted you to say it again. And again. And well… again but in other ways.

“I'll be back in five minutes, just to rinse off and get comfy.”

You nodded. “I'll wait here and then we'll get the noodles ready.”

Hoseok felt extremely relieved once he changed his clothes. The loose linen joggers felt like a soft cloud around his legs, air already circulating better against his skin. And the satin shirt made him feel classy and casual at the same time.

He was pleased at the comfort-looks ratio of his outfit and exited the room confidently. He was further reassured once he found you scrolling through your phone, sitting there innocently, smiling at him once you saw him appear.

“Okay, ready to go?” He asked, standing in front of you, all set to accompany you to the kitchen.

You nodded and took his hand as he helped you up. “Let’s go.”

He smelled amazing, like anise and patchouli. Something sweet and manly at the same time. It suited him perfectly.

Standing a bit too close after he tugged you up, you surreptitiously tried to sniff him, your eyes falling shut once the vaguely honeyed fragrance met your nostrils.

He observed you as you stood there, clearly entranced. Heat crept up his cheeks as your breath tickled down his neck: he was slowly becoming aware of your presence, of the warmth that your skin radiated, of the way a strand of your hair skimmed his arm.

“I like your perfume,” you whispered.

He felt his knees grow vaguely wobbly, a swoony, shy smile stretching his lips.

The moment you opened your eyes, you realised his face was just a few inches away from yours, his blush visible in high definition right before your eyes.

He looked so incredibly, adorably embarrassed. “Thank you,” he replied quietly, almost afraid of breaking the spell of the moment.

Your eyes met his, and for a second he hoped you would get on your tiptoes and kiss him, but you casually turned around and started walking away, turning to him only to ask about the kitchen.

Trying to keep his delusions on the low, he led you to the kitchen, where all you could see was the tidy chaos of creation.

A few bowls were piled neatly in the sink, together with lined up utensils. You let him show you the several drawers and cabinets, explaining where to find a frying pan for the vegetables, the noodles already cooked and marinated in the secret sauce the chef had prepared.

All he could do was stare as you easily made your way through the motions, the main dish of your meal ready to be served after a few minutes, the vegetables keeping a crispy texture while the noodles hit a chewier feel once you mixed the two together.

You set both on different bowls and offered them to Hoseok. “I’ll put a couple short ribs in the oven.”

He nodded and reached the dining table, frowning at all the food spread there in cups and plates and dishes and bowls.

His disappointment was short-lived.

“Don’t worry about it,” you murmured gently, completely incapable of keeping yourself from tracing his spine in between his shoulder blades.

You watched his back straighten, the glossy satin glimmering at the shift of muscles and tendons underneath.

You wanted to see that again. No shirt on, next time.

You shook your head and blinked rapidly, trying to awaken yourself from your fantasy.

He set the bowls down and you sat in front of each other, thanking for the food quickly before you started chatting about which food was where.

The meal went on calmly while you talked about your family, your job, and the pets you had visited during the day. At the same time, he explained some of the undercover dynamics of his job, like all the training and briefing and preparations necessary before interviews, photoshoots, or even something as basic as a public appearance where all they had to do was stand and look pretty for the photographers. He teased the theme of the Run episode they had just filmed — which was almost fifteen episodes ahead to the one that had just been aired.

You chit-chatted for a long while, your conversation resembling the sound of chirping birds thanks to Hoseok’s naturally melodic intonation of speech. He was lovely when he stumbled a bit over his words, the ridge of his ears scarlet with embarrassment once a slip of tongue had him making a lewd allusion you caught with a mischievous grin he couldn’t quite catch since your eyes were glued to the table; he had been too busy being ashamed of his freudian lapsus to actually notice that you had enjoyed the reference.

He was saved by the sound of the oven beeping, telling him that the ribs were warm and ready, which made him excuse himself.

He returned just a minute later with more soju and beer, asking if you were okay with the serving or if you were full.

The smell was so inviting you let him convince you.

No matter the large dinner and the several dishes, you managed to eat way more than what you thought, only a quarter of the table remaining untouched.

“Okay, maybe we could pack up the leftovers.” You suggested, standing up once your conversation hit a natural pause, comforted by the feeling that Hoseok no longer felt like a stranger to you.

You helped him, easily getting acquainted with his living room and kitchen. It felt nice to get gradually more independent, enough that you could easily help him up with the containers and that you could assist him with organizing the tupperware in the fridge.

It was all going okay until you were standing in front of the open fridge, ready to close it when his hand landed on yours on the handle, holding the door open. He leaned against your back, grabbing a paper box from the top shelf.

“Sorry,” he spoke quietly, all chirpiness gone.

Shivers propagated from your spine to your limbs, your brain suddenly struck by the feel of perspiration coating your inner thighs. You felt wet and you weren’t sure if it was sweat or actual arousal.

His perfume came in again once he stretched to reach the box.

Hoseok’s attention moved to the mole on your neck as you leaned your head against his shoulder. “Careful, it’s heavy,” he said, giving a quick look at your lashes, at the freckles peppered over your cheekbones, your face turned to the side, ready to nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

His hand was hot against yours, his back light and solid at the same time.

He parted from you, feeling disappointed with the fact that he had to move, biting his lip as his arm struggled keeping the box upright.

You caved slightly as cool air replaced the warmth of his chest, still feeling the phantom presence of his touch.

“Let’s go back to the living room.” He bit his lip, grabbing another bottle as you almost ran from him.

You weren’t okay with what was going on. Not one small bit. You were not okay with the idea of getting drenched and making a mess of yourself on the first date. You were even less okay with the idea of going back home and spending all night with your hand between your legs, thinking about the mind-blowing sex Jung Hoseok was most definitely capable of performing. With a body like that and years of pilates lessons, there was no doubt he could rearrange your organs as your legs and arms bent to accommodate him and please him.

You were even less pleased by the way you craved to satisfy him. You wanted to hear him moan and whine with his melodious voice. You wanted to hear the symphony of his pleasure, the sound of his cries, the smashing of skin against skin, and maybe the legs of the bed scraping against the floor, the headboard thudding against the wall.

You wanted his perfume on your neck, against your chest. You wanted your thighs to smell like him, the scent of your sex mingling with his cologne. It was primal and visceral and obscure and thrilling.

And then a sick side of you wanted to wake up all the neighbours, let them know he was living the night of his life. And since you could only hope of getting a second chance, you found yourself ready to use the night you’d been granted, if fate would allow you an in to the sinful heaven you were imagining.

After all, you weren’t even sure he still liked you.

As he sat in front of you, Hoseok observed your side profile while you stared out of the window, completely lost in your thoughts, your cheeks reddened because of the alcohol.

He was so whipped for you.

However, he knew the initial thrill would eventually fade and leave him with an adorable, beautiful young woman who could never own his heart or tend to his vulnerable side. It had happened so many times before that he was just waiting for his interest to die down.

Because right as he stared at your dreamy expression, he realised he would never lay a finger on you.

You were far too precious for him to sully you with his dirty paws and devilish ways.

With a sliver of sadness tainting his smile, he placed the cake in the middle, preparing two forks, one on your side and one on his.

“I’ve heard champagne is great with strawberries,” he commented, opening the bottle and awakening you from your daydream.

You blinked a few times. “Oh, just a little or I’ll end up dizzy,” you replied with a small smile. “This cake looks beautiful.”

“I hope you aren’t allergic to strawberries or dairy products,” he mused, lifting up his glass to clink it with yours. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you repeated before answering his questions. “Luckily I don’t have any allergies. Usually I prefer eating fruit and vegetables, but I’m pretty cool with any kind of food.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hoseok replied before realising he’d better never see you again. You were too tempting, too pretty, too gentle and overall too attractive for someone like him. Chances were you would be a bit disappointed but would find a proper date within the next two weeks. Women like you were far too requested and treasured in a city like Seoul.

You were suitable from head to toe. You had a degree, a job, a place to yourself, you were accomplished. And then your innocent looks, your kind manners, the caring side he had the fortune of catching a glimpse of.

You would be taken in less than three weeks. He could tell.

It was a mystery to him how you were still single after eight months in the city.

He found the courage to look up from the dessert, only to regret it immediately.

Your mouth was wide open in an attempt to chomp on a huge strawberry, your lips rosy, your nose smeared with cream.

I shall not.

I cannot.

I should not.

He paused.

Fuck. I will.

He placed down his fork and stood to his feet, your eyes following him as he came to your side.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, looking at his stone-cold expression.

You put your fork down, staring back at him with concern.

His hand moved tentatively to your cheek, laying gently along your jaw.

Turning to him, you stared some more, your chest inflating and deflating rapidly and deeply — which was not lost on him.

Too afraid to look, you closed your eyes as he leaned down his thumb moving closer to your mouth, parted as you found it increasingly difficult to breathe.

Your whole world was dark and hot once his breath fanned over your face.

With overwhelming desire coursing through him, Hoseok stared at every single detail, drinking you in with eyes so hungry, like he could swallow every freckle, every mole, every bit of plump flesh and bony edge.

With his hand trembling slightly at the strange position, he dragged his thumb against the tip of your nose, collecting the cream smeared there.

Your eyes opened in surprise at the unanticipated motion, meeting his lowered eyelids, his lovely lashes making an appearance against the fair skin.

And then his thumb met your lips, covering them in sweetness.

“You had cream on your nose,” he said, his eyes never abandoning the curves of your lips.

Jung Hoseok knew he was a sinner already. But with heartbreaking realisation, he knew the next action would deem his fall.

His tongue slipped out of his mouth, guided by a need so deep he could barely control. With the worst intentions, he focused on touching you as little as possible, trying to scoop up the cream caught on the gentle petals of your lips.

What he didn’t expect was for your own tongue to slide out and brush against his.

From there, it was only ruination.

His tongue slid in your mouth, catching on all the flavours of the dessert. It was strawberries. Strawberries everywhere; your freckles, your hair, your shampoo, your dress, he was possessed by them, drowning in a forest of strawberry bushes growing all over him, climbing into his mouth and underneath his clothes.

“Hobi,” you called weakly as he let you go, your body shooting up on your feet as you tried to chase after his mouth, tried to have his arms around you.

He moaned and caught you, placing his forearm against your lower back and holding your cheek with the other. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He placed a chaste kiss on your lips. “I promised myself I wouldn’t but you’re too hard to resist.”

You looked at him with pleading eyes, kissing his jaw, trying to reach the underside of his ear. “Please.”

You tried to calm your breathing by inhaling deeply through your nose, which in retrospective was an awful move since his scent filled your lungs and all you could do was whine in reply, the sound ridiculous and embarrassing to your own ears.

“I’ll do bad things to you, honey. We should stop now,” he said, trying to be judicious.

“Please,” you begged again, rubbing your face against his neck, already trying to cover yourself in his perfume. “Just a kiss, please.”

Closing his eyes, he gave in, following the line of your neck, the sweet mole at the base, drawing your throat with the inner side of his lips.

“Hobi…” You whined once more before receiving a gentle tug at your hair.

“I’m getting there, don’t be impatient,” he growled, making your neck stretch backwards. Once more his tongue slipped out, drawing a line from the hollow between your collarbones all the way to your chin, stopping at your lower lip. “If you’re patient you get a reward, see? That’s how it works with me, sweetheart.”

He kissed your mouth, first delicately, tentatively, trying to feel you open up and give in.

Once you did, he locked your face against his with the hand of his nape, following your body as you walked backwards, reaching the sofa.

“What do you want to tell me, my pretty strawberry?” He teased once he allowed you to let go of him.

“Thank you.”

It was not what he expected, but it made his stomach churn with longing. He needed to please you more, give you more, just to hear those words again.

“You’re welcome, honey. Now, tell me. What do you want me to do, sweetie?” He watched as you sat on the carpet.

You remembered how soft it had felt earlier under your knees. “I wanna make out?” You asked, lashes batting. You didn’t want to sound eager.

“Just make out?” He asked, sitting down in front of you. There was no way he would allow you to blow him tonight.

You looked at him with sparkly eyes. He wanted to dive into them, to feel the magic they held glow inside his body. “Am I allowed to ask for more?” You questioned with the sweetest pout.

“You can ask me anything, honey.” He skimmed the skin of your jaw with the back of his fingers before feeling the hot curve of your neck under his palm.

“Would you think ill of me if I asked for more?”

He shook his head and smiled softly. He would never think ill of you. Not even if you asked him to fuck you for a whole audience of connoisseurs to stare. “You're my cute, little strawberry. I could never think lowly of you.” He cooed.

“What if I wanted you to… to fuck me?” You asked, biting your lip nervously before looking at him.

He thought about the consequences for maybe half a second. He felt awful because, at the end of all the reasoning he knew he would hoard you and every single ounce of pleasure he could coax out of your body.

“Are you sure you want that?” He asked, letting his hand follow the path between your breasts, down to your waist gripping your side.

You licked your lips and nodded. “I'll be so good to you.”

His grin was outright evil. “I know you will, baby.” He kissed your temple. “I need to go get protection if that's what you want. I'll give you a minute to think about it and if you still think so when I'm back, then we're gonna deal with your needy head, mh?”

You nodded, staring at him as he stood up, incapable of not studying his crotch where his cock was visibly tenting his loose trousers.

He chuckled as he watched you stare. “It'll be yours if you still want it later.”

Your eyebrows raised in disappointment as you watched him leave.

So… it was actually going to happen. Did you want it to happen?

What a stupid question! Yes. Of course.

You wanted him and it scared you and thrilled you at the same time.

His footsteps reached the room once more, disappearing once his feet touched the carpet.

“Okay. Here we go, sweetie. Are you still sure you want to have sex with me?” He asked, kneeling and moving your hair off your face, your head reaching his sternum from your seated position.

“Yes, I'm sure,” You confirmed curtly. “Please.”

Oh, to hear you beg. He could cum from that alone. It was intoxicating. And he wasn't even touching you. He could only imagine what sounds you would make once his cock would fill your cunt.

“You want the bedroom—”

“Here. Please.” You shut your eyes tight. You felt like an animal, willing to fuck wherever, and the immense temptation of feeling the plush carpet underneath your back, the city lights illuminating his skin…

Hoseok inhaled.

You were wilder than what you looked and such information aroused him immensely.

“Lay back, honey.” He murmured, extracting three small squares of foil from his pocket and laying them on the coffee table.

Slowly, you lowered your back to the carpet while he kneeled close to you, your legs rotating so that your feet laid right in front of his knees, your legs bent and pressed together.

“That's nice, ____. Lovely,” he said before placing his hands on your knees. “Would you like to spread your pretty legs for me?” He asked, his fingers sliding down your thighs, reaching the hem of the dress.

You looked adorable once you demurely parted your feet to offer him some space between your knees, the hem of the dress moving closer to your lap.

His legs slotted between your thighs and he bent down, reaching for your face. “Such a good girl,” he praised you, cooing once he noticed your cheeks redden. “So adorable.”

On all fours on top of you, you felt the unique shape of his mouth draw your throat before giving a lick. “I bet you taste like strawberries all over.” He started kissing down your chest, rubbing his cheek against your small breasts. “You make me feel like a man starved,” he continued, kissing your stomach, your abdomen, laying one small peck on the fabric covering your belly button.

“Hoseok,” you whined, feeling his hands around your hips.

He stopped brusquely, his body entirely leaving yours. “Now, now, sweetie. What did you just call me?”

You batted your lashes as you stared at him in confusion. “Hoseok.”

“Okay. If you want to have sex with me, honey, that name will not do.”

You stared at him some more.

“I’m Sir,” he affirmed sternly. “The moment you get wet between your legs, I become Sir to you, understood?”

You nodded quickly, breath and brain completely stolen out of you.

“No nodding, my cute berry. Either ‘yes, Sir’ or ‘no, Sir’. Let’s try again. Is it clear what you must call me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He grinned and kissed your belly again, just a bit lower. “That’s excellent. Well done, ____.”

You smiled and placed your hands on his hair, feeling the soft locks as he looked up at you.

He growled at that, your fingers naturally curling in fists as you brought them to your chest. “A very good girl indeed.”

You propped yourself up to your elbows once he lifted the skirt of your dress.

He could barely believe you. “Goodness.”

“At first I thought my dress was stuck on my underwear when you called me strawberry.”

Under the cutest, loveliest, most girlish dress he had ever seen, he was met by another adorable surprise. You were wearing a playful pair of ruffled panties in gingham print, with a small strawberry embroidered on your mound.

“You’re going to kill me,” he moaned, eyes closing before he dipped his head between your legs, studying the patch of wetness on the gusset of your panties, drawing a line from there to your clit, eliciting a moan. “You’re so sweet. And so evil at the same time.” He bit your inner thigh, making you wince. “Can’t believe that song predicted you on my carpet.”

You giggled and arched your hips against his face, your wetness meeting his cheek lewdly.

He inhaled you, completely intoxicated before he came back up, his arms caging your head. “You really rubbed yourself against my face, honey?” He asked with a stone cold expression.

You were afraid again, but that didn’t keep you pussy from clenching around nothing.

“Yes, Sir.” You replied, the respect in your voice nothing but a taunt.

“If you make a mess you gotta clean it, sweetie. Understood?” He asked, grabbing your face and angling his cheek to your mouth. “Clean it.”

“Please, Sir,” you mewled, trying to push your crotch against him, crying out once you noticed his body was too far away for you to find something to grind against.

“Clean after yourself. Now.”

You did as he told you, feeling the salty, bitter tang of your arousal transfer from his smooth skin to your tongue.

“All of it,” he muttered once you stopped after the first lick.

You completed your task, his pelvis lowering to yours as a reward. “There you go. Now thank me.”

Your arms moved around his torso, trying to get him closer, just to brush your chest against the soft, smooth satin of his shirt.

“I said, thank me.”

“Thank you, Sir.” You felt him cave immediately, giving you his hard and lithe body against your chest, your crotch, right in your arms as your legs wrapped around him. You felt crazy, grinding against him like a teenager, ridiculously reminded of how you used to go off by humping a pillow. “Please, inside,” you wailed, your sigh hitting his chest and disappearing underneath his shirt. Once you inhaled, his cologne felt like a bruising kiss, your hips meeting his harder, faster.

“You like my perfume?”

You nodded furiously.

Not again. He violently separated himself from you. “What did I tell you about replies?” He scolded you.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” You looked down with repentance. “I like your perfume very much, Sir.”

“That’s right. Good girl. Now, after I praise you, thank me.” He pushed your dress up as his hand dragged heavily from your crotch to your throat.

“Thank you, Sir,” you replied obediently, watching as he got on his knees and tugged his trousers down, the white boxers underneath surprising you as they outlined his length perfectly.

“You want it out?” He asked, watching as you sat up straighter and licked your lips.

You were almost ready to nod when you caught yourself, Hoseok smiling proudly once he saw you correct your behaviour. “I want it out, Sir.”

“Excellent.”

He lowered his underwear too, his cock standing erect immediately, it fluttered even straighter once you kept looking, your hands touching your breasts needily.

Hoseok stretched to the coffee table, grabbing a condom and tearing the foil open, sliding the latex on quickly and firmly.

“My cute berry, I need you to be very careful about this. You know what a safeword is?”

You shook your head. “No, Sir.”

He momentarily covered himself, needing to get all your focus on his words. “Safewords are what you use to communicate with your partner in a BDSM scene. A safeword means that you don’t like what is going on and you want to slow down or stop. We will use the traffic lights system. If you say ‘yellow’, I will slow down, if you say ‘red’, I will let go of you entirely and help you recover from whatever it was that hurt you, mentally, emotionally or physically. On the other hand, ‘green’ means that you’re okay and you are ready to get back into the scene after a ‘yellow’. If I ask you your colour, you reply with those. All clear?”

“All clear, Sir.”

He grinned proudly. “Then explain to me how it works.”

“If I want to slow down, I call ‘yellow’. If I want to stop, I call ‘red’. If I’m all good, I call ‘green’ — Sir.” You added for good measure, knowing that one too many wouldn’t hurt for sure.

“That’s my good girl.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He smiled as he looked in your eyes. He knew he would remember you forever, even if he never developed any feelings for you. You were by far the most unique woman he’d ever had under him so far.

For a second he observed your cute, frilly undies, wondering if he wanted them off.

No. 

He took his cock out of his underwear, letting the waistbands of his trousers and boxers rest on his mid-thigh.

“Wanna keep these pretty panties on.” He murmured once he laid on top of you. “Tell me if the elastic band hurts you.” He said, moving the gusset aside and testing your wetness with his fingers, spreading the slickness over your folds. “So fucking soft. Dammit. Can't wait.”

He dipped his head against your neck. “You want it?”

“Yes, Sir.” You placed your hands on the small of his back, his eyes closing as he relished in your touch.

“Beg for it.” He murmured, dragging the tip up and down your slit.

You rolled your eyes. “No, Sir.”

“You won't beg?” He asked, looking at you.

You pouted. “Why do you want me to beg?” You asked with a frown.

“I need to know you want me, my sweet berry,” he pouted back. He touched your face giving you a few kisses to convince you. “I want to hear your sweet voice saying 'please', just one more time,” he whispered, feeling merciful, especially after all the ways he had already pushed you.

Your will bent to his. “Please.”

And just like that, his tip entered your warm, tight cunt, a moan exiting his mouth. “Yes, yes, ____. Yes, baby,” he groaned, at which you responded with a mewl.

“Hobi…” You cried, squeezing around him once he bottomed out.

“Don't make me punish you,” he murmured, exhaling raspily. “You've been such a good girl. Don't get naughty.”

“Sir, please.”

He started snapping his hips out, slowly, then in again, one inch at a time, so deep and slow, over and over. “Yes, baby. Tell me how good it feels.”

“It feels too good, Sir, I'm…”

He hummed in pleasure, feeling the skin of your neck under his lips. “Too good. My berry, you're so tiny and tight.” His hips trusted in quickly and unexpectedly.

“Holy… Sir, please, again, please.” You squealed, feeling his thumb slide your panties further aside to reach your clit.

He breathed out with effort against your ear as your mouth reached his earlobe. “Fuck, not there, Berry. Not there,” he said, tugging his ear out of your mouth.

“But Sir—,” you tried objecting before his pace became irresistible. While one hand reached the crown of his hair, holding him against you, the other one met his glute, your nails sinking in his flesh. Your breath started coming in short hiccups, leading you to your climax as he outright hammered into you, his back curved away while his forehead stayed glued to your neck.

“Am I fucking you right, ____? Is it good enough for my golden girl?” He growled once he felt you tightening around him more intensely, with longer squeezes.

“It's perfect, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” you reacted readily, shaking your head as pleasure started overpowering you, trying not to hurt him.

“Cum, my sweet berry. Show me.”

The hiccups of your breathing started turning in tiny whimpers, then squeals.

You were ready to bury your head in the ground and never come back because you knew what would come next.

The squeals turned into an uncontrolled cascade of giggles. Giggles.

Hoseok picked his head up at the curious sound, only to see your palm covering your mouth in an attempt to bottle the stupid reaction.

Hoseok smiled through gritted teeth, going faster, harder, deeper now that he understood that the sweet gurgling laugh was due to your orgasm peaking.

He pinned your hand away from your face, basking in the desperate joy of your bliss before he felt himself ready to blow.

“I'm gonna slide out now,” he warned, making sure that your high had faded and your body laid limp and drained underneath him.

Your body relaxed against the carpet, your eyes closed, your lungs still working hysterically to give you back some oxygen after the ruthless fit of giggles. You whimpered once you felt him pull out.

“Look at me, honey,” he called, making you prop your upper back on your elbows as you looked down, only to be met by the sight of Hoseok slipping off the condom. “Let me cum on your cute panties, mh? Can I? I promise I'm clean, I can show you the—”

“Do it,” you replied, giving him official permission.

“Really?”

“Really— I mean, yes, Sir.”

He smirked and started pumping himself furiously, his expression frantic as his tip pressed to your mound and he came apart, his hot seed drenching the red and white cotton, an animalistic growl making his whole chest shake.

You welcomed him in your arms once he collapsed on top of you, right hand smeared in slickness. “I’m gonna call you Giggles.” He said, kissing your mole, the precise spot where he could feel your blood run underneath the skin, the hollow just under your earlobe. “It was the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.”

You felt your whole body blush. “It’s so stupid but I can’t stop it.”

“Don’t stop it, it’s adorable.” He sniffed at your hair, “you still smell like strawberries.”

“Must be my shampoo.”

“Fuck. So good.” He sniffed some more. “I thought it would kill me earlier, by the fridge.”

“I thought you would kill me.” You said, feeling his neck with your lips. “Your perfume might be aphrodisiac.”

“You’re too tempting.” He chuckled. “I might need another round.”

“I can’t believe you actually fucked me on your living room carpet.” You said, combing his hair as he still regained his energies.

“Aren’t you happy?” He asked, suddenly panicked.

“No, I mean. I’m… I’m really happy. I’m just… incredulous that this is happening to me.” You replied with a surprised laugh.

“Maybe I should give it another go to make sure you actually understand what’s happening.”

“Would you mind helping me understand on the dinner table?” You batted your lashes cutely and paired that with an angelic smile.

“Are you even real?” He touched your face with his clean hand, giving you an inquisitive look. “You appear, all cute and innocent and then you want me to get you all dirty and filthy?”

Your smile widened. “The other ones were a bit scared by this side of me.”

“I won’t be scared of your needs, Giggles.”

You blushed again and hid your face.

“No hiding,” he reprimanded before rolling on his side, leaving you some room to obey the orders he was about to give you. “Keep giving me those sweet giggles,” he said, tracing your belly with his fingertips before trying to tickle you.

The effect was immediate. You clenched your legs and slapped his hands away from you, the torturing sound parting from your lips in a series of childlike gurgles. “Stop! I’m gonna mess up!” You screamed, trying not to stain your dress or the carpet. “No! No! Wait! Yellow!”

At that he took his hands off you immediately, your body laying on your back breathless.

“You good, Giggles?” He asked, voice drenched with worry.

You nodded, still panting.

“Can I take your clothes off?” He questioned, watching you move your head in confirmation.

“Okay.” He looked at your dress, trying to find a zipper. “Should I—”

“Start with my underwear, please?” You asked, your breath laboured due to arousal rather than exhaustion.

He nodded and licked his lips as he slowly tugged your panties down, careful about keeping his release from touching the carpet or your legs. Once the garment unhooked from your ankles, he folded it carefully to keep the wet fabric tucked in.

“Kneel, Giggles.”

You followed his command blindly, watching as your hands slid up under your skirt and tugged your dress up, his palms meeting your ribs and dragging the fabric upwards, past your breasts, then up against your armpits and backwards to your shoulder-blades, slipping the the neckline past your head.

Dress off, he let it fall distractedly to the floor, his eyes going from your face, to your hair, to your nipples — sinfully rosy — following the line leading from your breastbone to your belly button. He kissed the first piece of skin that met his lips, someplace where his heartbeat felt like a drum, like the bass coming from an old boom box. It was so comforting in a way he barely understood.

He needed room to think. “Get on the table.” His voice was once more stern and distant, especially once you watched him grab the opened foil containing the tied up condom, then stand up and leave.

You followed his direction nonetheless, standing awkwardly by the table, watching the cake and stealing a strawberry since the orgasm had awakened a certain sweet tooth in you. You dipped the strawberry in cream and brought it to your lips, relaxing just a little after you heard the water run in the kitchen.

He was probably washing his hands.

You took you time licking up the cream, only to start chomping down on the incredibly large fruit right after. That’s when Hoseok appeared.

He was shirtless now, the garment dangling from his spindly fingers before he laid it neatly against the back of the couch. You stopped mid-bite.

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt your snack, go on, honey.” He licked his lips and gave you a steamy look before going to the table and pocketing the condoms left. “Is it good?” He asked, walking to stand right in front of you.

You felt slightly unnerved as he seemed completely indifferent to your naked body.

“Sit on the table,” he ordered

You frowned and hesitated.

At that, he let his hands hover over your hips. “Shall I help you with it?” He asked, giving you the chance to avoid his touch before laying his fingertips delicately on your skin. “Gimme a colour, Giggles.”

“Maybe yellow.” You bit your lip, insecurity getting the best of you.

He moved his hands to your face, suddenly turning comforting. “Quick tip, my pretty berry.” He caressed your face in a way that made you feel way too at ease. “If it’s a ‘maybe yellow’, then it’s a yellow. How can I help you, ____?”

Your real name made you come down to earth. You shook your head and looked away, Hoseok suddenly scared of having gone too far.

“I’m not comfortable with the way I let you control me, maybe.” Which was not entirely true. You were not comfortable with the way you craved his control after spending maybe four hours with him — including the afternoon he entered the vet studio with Mickey in his arms and a hopeless, lost look on his face.

“It’s all up to you, ____. I know it’s a cliché thing to say, but the answer is really within yourself. I can’t make you more comfortable with how you feel,” he said, still not even considering your nakedness in front of him.

In such a moment his indifference was welcome.

You looked down, your hands disappearing into your hair. Maybe this was the only night you were granted. Did you really want it to end already?

He did not touch you as you mulled over every option.

“I’m… I’m not— We’re technically strangers, I shouldn’t be trusting you like this, you shouldn’t be trusting me like this either, I mean this is all so— all so twisted and wicked and fast and—”

Hoseok was ready for reality to slap him across the face. He was ready for your regrets and you walking to your dress on the floor and cursing your messed up panties which you most definitely could not wear to go back home. He was ready for you to call what you did a mistake and say that there was no way for a woman like you to be with a man like him.

“My mind tells me I shouldn’t, but I want it so much.”

He lifted his eyes from the floor, finally finding the courage to meet yours.

“I’m sorry, that’s not true. I’m comfortable with the way you control me.” Slowly you took a step back, your ass meeting the surface of the table. “I’m just questioning what that means to me.”

He nodded. It explained a lot about your innocent, greedy approach to sex. You were exploring and you had found something you didn’t expect to even remotely consider.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head and sat on the table. “No, Sir.”

His eyebrows shot up before he regained his composure. “Colour.”

You allowed yourself to stare at his chest. He was so well-built. Harmonious. He looked like a painting. “Green. Very deep, dark green. Sir.”

He took a step closer. “Green?”

“Forest green. As green as a clover.” You felt his hand on your belly, dragging against your skin all the way to your throat, pushing you down as you lowered yourself on your elbows.

“If you feel uncomfortable emotionally or mentally speaking, you call a yellow. Please, promise me you’ll be very careful about it, Giggles. I care about your mindspace. It means everything to me.”

“I promise, Sir.”

He removed his hand from your throat and placed it against your cheek, placing a chaste kiss on your lips once he bent over you. “You’re talking to Hoseok right now, ____. Promise me you’ll keep an eye on how your mind’s doing. Promise it.”

You kissed him back, closing your eyes once his tongue caressed and molded against yours. Breathless, you parted from him. “I promise, Hobi.”

“I don’t want you to regret anything about tonight. It would break my heart, okay?”

Your eyes widened in surprise before you nodded. “I’ll take care. I promise.”

“Good girl. Now stay right there, lovely. Look what I got for you.” He found the cake, placed carefully away from your laying body. Skillfully, he dipped a strawberry in cream and brought it to your lips, dragging the tip of the fruit across them like lipstick.

He bent down and licked a fat stripe following the seam of your mouth, only to repeat the gesture once more; however, this time you let your tongue lash out and tangle up with his, the strawberry held away from you, trying not to catch it in your hair.

“Open up,” he commanded, pushing the treat past your lips, into your eager mouth. “Suck. Now.”

Your gaze became bubbly once more as you followed his lead, your cheeks sucked in at the pressure you were making with your mouth, the strawberry emerging completely clean from your mouth.

He smirked at the sigh, arching an eyebrow at the result. “You make it hard not to push my cock in your mouth.”

“Maybe that’s what I want you to do.” You raised an eyebrow right back at him, getting cocky.

“Not happening. I wanna hear that laugh again, Giggles.” Tentatively, he gave a small slap to your breast, surprising you and making you arch your back, gasping in pleasure. Your legs tightened around him, trying to clench your thighs shut at the feeling of arousal slipping out of your hole and sliding down to your behind. “And don’t you dare be a brat to me. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Your voice was squeaky once you managed to reply.

“Did you like it, Giggles?”

The treacherous sound escaped your mouth once more as you nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Sir.”

You wondered if you would ever get tired at the reply. You doubted it very highly.

“Let’s see if you like this too,” he mused before pouring more champagne in a glass and dipping the strawberry in the wine. He fixed his stance between your legs. “Remember our safewords?”

You confirmed before he lifted the strawberry and let a droplet fall right in the middle of your chest, splashing heavy and wet on your skin. Cold too.

“I’m going to make you my dessert, my pretty strawberry. Remember? Strawberries go well with champagne, lovely.”

He let one more drop fall to your breast, your breath stopping completely at the coldness, Hoseok’s eyes amused at the sight of your nipple awakening and hardening, lengthening even. It became impossibly rosier as another drop fell.

It felt stupid not to repeat the same treatment to your other nipple, which responded twice as quickly now that arousal was abundantly flowing through every single inch of you.

The strawberry drew a neat line of champagne pearls from your belly, which you sucked in at the cold, all the way up to your neck — a line that Hoseok followed with his mouth, letting his tongue stretch out of the way whenever a droplet rolled out of place.

He let the strawberry fall into the glass, extracting the condoms from his pocket and placing them on the table before taking off the rest of his clothes. He tugged at himself a couple times, getting hard enough to wear a condom.

His hands were going to get dirty, therefore he had no other options than getting ready very quickly.

“Giggles?”

“Yes? I mean, yes, Sir?” You corrected yourself in a millisecond, not wanting to risk another delay in your pleasure.

“I’m going to get really dirty now, lovely. Would you be okay with showering here?”

You let your lashes flutter a few times before nodding.

He gave a curt nod in reply before wearing protection and letting his cock rub against your crotch. His body stretched over yours, his thumb collecting a dollop of cream and dividing it with his other thumb. You observed his movements attentively as his clean fingers laid against the side of your breasts and his thumbs landed on your nipples.

Your mouth opened silently once the sensation flowed in, his digits starting a rolling motion over your peaks, playing them in small circles that innocently reminded you of a joystick.

“Colour.”

“So, so green. Can I have a blue for mind blowing good.” You tried to pick your head up, letting it thud back down once his cock dragged perfectly against your clit, eliciting a purr from your throat and a groan from his, his sex perfectly sandwiched between your and his belly.

“Blue— I— ” He talked in small babbles and hiccups. “I get what you— ah— what you mean.” His forehead met your collarbone.

He found unspeakable strength and managed to rise from your breasts, collecting half a handful of cream spreading it over his entire palms and fingers like lotion before grabbing your breasts and kneading them, his hands dwarfing them entirely.

“Sir, please, I need your cock,” you found yourself ridiculously begging, ready to hump anything that met your core.

“Slip it in for me, Giggles.”

The moment he got inside, you didn’t even try to keep it down, riding him no matter the difficult position or the awkward angle. You let your hands scratch down his chest and grip his arms — and he allowed you.

You were getting more and more unhinged and he wanted to see every little detail, every little second, every single step that brought you to bliss and ruination, giggling like you’d never been half as ecstatic in your life. His hands slipped and groped your gentle curves, his mind growing hazier by the second.

All his control came back once he noticed your legs leaving the ground, as you scooted back just by a few inches, your calves latching behind his back before you shook your head.

“What?” He asked, bending his arms to get closer to you.

“Position. It’s…” The soles of your feet met the edge of the table, your hands securing your legs in position before you felt your hips hurt.

“Bend them to your shoulders,” he suggested, helping you fix your knees with his elbows. “Good. Can you touch yourself for me, Giggles.”

You obeyed without even replying, feeling him groan as the new position allowed him to reach deeper and rub your g-spot in the process.

That’s when the squealing started. And then there it was, pleasure. Right before you.

“Give me all the giggles, my sweet berry,” he cooed, nodding and smiling once the soft laugh started.

He let himself grow wild, his fingers sliding to your neck, gripping it gently before he led them against your chin and into your mouth, bathing your tongue in cream — or rather, what was left of it.

The other hand secured your waist, using it for leverage as he rammed into you, pushing his cock in your cunt, constricting it after the muscles remained tense after the orgasm.

This time he came inside you, still covered in latex, but inside you.

He was too fucked out to think of how you would feel without a condom, too fucked out to care that he was pressing his mouth — fuck, his entire face — against your dirty chest, getting his hair sticky with cream, his cheeks and chin and nose and eyes and forehead… His mouth welcomed the sweetness, sucking at your skin before his tongue came out to lap at the sugary mess. He was too lost to care, sinking deep and staying perfectly still as he enjoyed every second of his high inside your most intimate place.

You came to your senses just in time to watch him process the situation he was in.

“Oh, hell.” He rose from the table, standing up, looking at you, at his hands, running the back of them against his cheeks before shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter.” He settled down again, your legs wrapping around him.

“Are you okay?” You asked him, rubbing your palm against his spine.

He hummed in confirmation. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” You mussed up the hair at his nape.

He licked up your nipple, catching it with his lips and suctioning it into his mouth.

You closed your eyes and enjoyed the cuddles. From the exhaustion radiating from his body and the overall disaster you both were, you knew your night was over.

“Can I go clean up please? It’s getting chilly.” You asked, using the excuse to get some space to yourself.

He stood slowly, slipping out of you attentively. He took off the condom, completely lost in his silence, knotted it up and kept it carefully between his fingers as he slipped on his underwear. “Let me show you the bathroom.”

Once he showed you the way, you let him understand you didn’t want him to shower with you.

Feeling the scent of his body wash cover your skin was painful now. You tried to indent the name in your mind and hoped it wasn’t too expensive. Once you managed to exit the shower stall, you dabbed your body dry, realising too late that you hadn’t brought your dress with you.

You wrapped the towel around you and opened the door, walking out once you were sure you wouldn’t drip over the floor.

“Hoseok?” You called.

Once you reached the living room, you found your dress, slipping it on and realising a second too late that your panties had disappeared.

“Giggles?” Hoseok appeared from the corridor, still shirtless, with a pair of bermuda on.

“Uhm… I should… Go, I guess?” You said, staring at the floor awkwardly. “I…”

Hoseok felt fear grip him once he thought this could be the last time he would see you.

“Wait. I—” He stretched his hand toward you. “I think— Uhm, underwear. Since I messed up yours.” He rubbed his nape. “I could wash your… panties and return them to you… Next Friday?” He looked up at you with a sheepish smile. “Over fried chicken and a chill dress code?”

Your cheeks shot up as you felt yourself smile. “So this is not a one time thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

You nodded, increasingly convinced.

You gingerly wore his boxers, noticing they were relatively comfortable on you, the cotton breezy and light, definitely soft over your abused skin. “Then I’ll return these on Friday. Over fried chicken and chill dress code. And maybe my peach frilly undies?”

“It’s a deal then, Giggles.”

“Deal.”

#jung hoseok x reader #hoseok x yn #hoseok smut #jhope smut #thetruthuntoldnet #houseofddaeng #bangtansorciere #thebtswritersclub

[milliedazzledust]

How you fall in love (Kol Mikaelson imagine)

Request from @jazziwritesthings : Could you write an imagine for Kol, where he wants to ask the reader to marry him?

Words: 2603

A/N: It kinda took a different turn from what I had originally planned, and I definitely had teary eyes writing this. Maybe I’ll do a 2nd part, I dunno yet -  Enjoy

The day had stated beautifully. Kol had decided to take Y/N on a date to one of her favorite place; the bayou. He never understood her attraction for that place but had put his judgement aside to make this day perfect. He had been planning this for the last two months, with the help of his siblings. He was excited, ecstatic even just to think about what would be happening, but also a little stressed if he dared to admit it. Mikaelson’s proposal mission, as Elijah had put it, was on.

« Are you sure this is what you want to do today ? » Y/N asked Kol as she slammed the car door. « We could’ve just stayed at the compound and enjoy a lazy afternoon »

They had just reach the border to enter the bayou.

« Love, for the last time, we are hiking »

« You don’t like to hike, Kol »

« But you do »

She smirked.

« So after all this time I’ve spent trying to convince you to come with me you chose today »

« Yes. »

« Why ? »

« What do you mean why ? »

He was trying his best not to look at her. She could read him like an open book and he was sure she didn’t need magic powers to know what he was thinking about.

« You are up to no good, Mr.Mikaelson »

« I don’t know what you are talking about, love »

« Sure you don’t » She rolled her eyes.

He laughed and took her hand in his, dragging her into the woods. It was a short road to a clearing Hayley had mentioned to him. Earlier that day, the woman had come to set a picnic basket for them. Her, Hope and Freya had had fun decorating the place with lights, balloons, flowers and candles. They had outdone themselves, it look like a scene from a fairytale.

Kol was walking a little bit too fast for Y/N’s liking. He seemed animated by an exhilaration she couldn’t understand. Usually, he would let her hike on her own, or with her werewolves friends, but would never come. He had told her on multiples occasions he didn’t like the atmosphere around that place, nor the company of a species he couldn’t stand. She had respected his boundaries and had never asked again, until two days ago when he came with an idea that both confused and surprised her; a hike in the bayou.

« We’re almost there » Kol told her.

« Where is there ? »

« I can’t tell you »

« See, I knew you were hiding something! » She proclaimed.

He laughed, shaking his head. He turned around, a snarky remark on the tip of his lips, when he noticed Y/N had stopped moving. She stood still, her back as straight as a rod. He could almost feel the tension emanating out of her.

« What is it ? » He instantly worried.

« We’re not alone » She whispered.

That’s when he heard footsteps, very close from where they were. The sound of crushing leafs on the ground was loud enough to be discernible by his vampire ears. He glanced at Y/N, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. As soon as he saw a silhouette standing at the edge of the wood, he instinctively pushed Y/N behind him, straightening up in a defensive stance.

« Who’s there ? » He yelled.

The stranger took a couple of steps toward them, revealing an impressive form. There was no doubt this man was very much in shape. Y/N took a double take at the size of his biceps and decided she did not want to piss off this werewolf, whomever he may have been.

« That’s a question I should be asking you » The man answered. « You’re on my territory »

« We’re just hiking! » Y/N quickly responded, hoping to appease the tension forming.

She knew about Kol’s temper, especially when it came to wolves. This could go terribly wrong if she did not diffuse it from the start.

« On whose authorization ? » He continued, his chest puffing with pride.

Kol rolled his eyes.

« Look, mate, this land belongs to the Crescent wolf pack, who happens to be ruled by Hayley Marshall, and you’re not one of them »

The man visibly tightened his jaw, starting to get angry. He seemed to sniff the air for a moment and Y/N glanced at his hands balled into fists.

« A Mikaelson » He spitted, recognizing Kol’s sent.

« And you’re not a werewolf » The vampire stated.

Y/N looked at him, surprised, then back at the man who was smirking. The old vampire, fed up with his attitude, had folded his arms.

« I’m a little more than that » He viciously grinned.

Kol raised an eyebrow then suddenly huffed and throw his hands in the air.

« Of course we had to run into one of Niklaus experiment »

His nonchalant behavior surprised Y/N who did not dare to talk anymore, scared she might say something that would throw off the stranger. Kol seemed to fulfill that task without her help beautifully.

« What experiment ? » She whispered to him.

« He’s a hybrid » He told her.

« A hybrid with a message for your brother »

«  Of course … » Kol grumped in annoyance.

With a movement of the hand, he pushed Y/N out of the way, anticipating the hybrid’s attack who launched himself at the vampire. His fist soon connected with Kol’s face, who landed on the ground in a matter of seconds. Bringing a hand to wipe the blood on his jaw, he looked at the molten-red color, before deciding he was definitely infuriated. The characteristics dark veins started to appear on his flawless skin and his sharp fangs stretched out of his teeth.

Y/N watched him lunged at the man at a fast speed, smashing him in the guts then dismantled his shoulder before shoving him on the ground. The hybrid let out a grunt of pain and got back up, putting his joint into place like it was nothing. He looked positively pissed off.

Instead of assaulting the Mikaelson, this time around he decided to go for Y/N. None of the lovers were fast enough to predict the action as Kol watched in utter terror the man’s hand plug inside her chest. There was no hesitation in his move, no doubt in what he was about to do.

« No, don’t! » Kol shouted.

This was his worst nightmare. After everything he had been through, all the centuries of torture, quarrels in his family and betrayals, this couldn’t be the end of the short happiness he had lived since he’d known her. With a wicked smirk, the man tightened his hold on the woman’s heart, ready to rip it out. Kol clenched his jaw, letting his anger consume him, turning into the psychotic manic anyone knew him to be not so long ago.

He grabbed a log of wood, tearing it apart and twisted it in his hand in just a fraction of second, ready to use his newfound weapon. Enraged, he impaled the man, perforating his lungs, making him shout in pain and lose his grip on Y/N. His eyes focused on his prey, with the sole determination of killing him, he took the weapon out, turned the man around in a swift movement, then plugged it back in his chest. Before his opponent even had the chance to react, he sank his fangs in his throat, making him scream in agony. With an animalistic growl he threw his fist inside the hybrid’s ribcage then tore off his heart. The dead man falling at his feet, he looked at the useless organ in his hand, satisfied, before letting it fall on the ground with a thud next to the body.

« Kol … » He heard a voice call behind him.

His back stiffened, realizing she was still here and had seen that part of him, the coldhearted ripper. What was supposed to be the best day of their life had taken a dark turn, reinforcing his convicting that the Mikealson’s were indeed cursed and incapable of happiness.

« Kol! » She called again.

Again, he did not answer. He heard her take a step toward him and turned his bloodied face to look at her.

« Are you alright ? » He whispered.

« Yes » She answered, looking him up and down. « Are you ? »

He pursed his lips.

« Let’s go » He simply said in a cold tone she was sure she didn’t like.

Before she could even answer, he started walking ahead of her, furious. She did her best to keep up with him but the man was taller and stronger. She rolled her eyes at him, annoyed by his behavior. Why was he mad at her after she was almost torn apart by a wolf ?

« Kol, wait up ! » She shouted, almost running to catch up to him.

He huffed but didn’t slow down. Fed up by his attitude she stopped on the track, refusing to take one more step before he explained himself.

« What the hell is wrong with you ?! »

« Nothing! » He yelled.

« Obviously » She answered back with irony.

Angry for a reason she couldn’t understand, he turned back and walked to her.

« Why can’t we just have one day, ONE day, without being chased by Niklaus fucking enemies! »

She folded her arms, raising an eyebrow at his tantrum.

« It that was this is about ? Klaus ? »

« What ? No! Of course not! »

« Kol, you’re not making any sense right now »

He sighed and brushed a hand through his hair in frustration.

« Why are you so mad ? » She asked softly, hoping to appease him a little.

« Because of this! » He vehemently shouted, pointing at the werewolf not far from where they were. « This wasn’t suppose to be a near death experience! »

« Then what was it supposed to be ?! »

« A proposal! »

« … what ? »

He pursed his lips.

« I had everything planned, down to the last detail » He revealed. « I wanted it to be perfect. We were supposed to come here and take a walk through the woods just because you like them so fucking much. There was a picnic ready for us on that hill and the girls put so much effort to decorate it for you »

He went on and on sounding extremely disappointed, not even noticing Y/N was startled by the information he didn’t realize he had let out.

«  …and that werewolf wasn’t part of my plan, because who in their right mind would ask someone to marry them in the middle of a bloody fight ? But you know what, maybe Elijah was right, maybe this family is not meant to be happy»

« You were going to propose ? » She whispered, astonished.

He looked back at her, finally realizing what he had just said. Cursing himself, he closed his eyes, not wanting her to see how affected he was by all this.

« I wasn’t supposed to say that » He muttered.  

They stared at each other, one of them dumbfounded, the other heartbroken by a fate he thought he family chose for him when they were cursed centuries ago. He wanted to say something, anything, but didn’t know where to start. And before one of them could speak one word, it started to rain. They did not move, still facing one another, still trying to read invisible words, understand imperceptible feelings, as the water started to soak them up. He knew he didn’t need to say anything when he saw a tear roll down her cheek.

« What changed ? » She simply asked, her hair and clothes wet.

« Everything »

« But you love me »

« I do »

« Doesn’t that count for anything ? »

« Not when you’re a Mikaelson »

His heart broke at the sight of her tears.

« Kol, please … »

« There will be others. There’s always others »

« We’ll fight them »

He shook his head.

« Have you seen what I did back there ? »

She didn’t answer, remembering the violence of that man’s death.

« I don’t want you to witness any of that » He confessed, his voice shaking with emotion. « I don’t want you to know that man because that’s not who I am anymore »

« What are you saying ? » She asked in a whisper, almost afraid to know the answer.

« I’m saying there are … things in this life I don’t want to give up, things I wish I could keep with me for the rest of my life, but I can’t »

The realization of what he was implying almost knocked her out. Before this sudden confession, rain used to bring her peace. There was a serenity, a sense of peace with each droplets that she could no longer feel in that moment.

« I’m saying I love you, Y/N » He whispered, his hand gently stroking her cheek. « and I’ll love you until I die, and if there’s life after that, I’ll love you then. »

She slapped his hand away, the tears now running freely on her face.

« You can’t do that, Kol, I won’t allow you to destroy what we have because of some made up curse you think the world has brought upon your family »

He didn’t seem to listen to her and instead took her head between his hands, forcing her to look back at him

« You have to know I did my best to keep you away from this madness » He confessed, his eyes watering. « But this life, this … violence is not what I want for you »

« You don’t get to decide for me »

« Y/N… »

« No! You think I don’t know what this is Kol ! I know that look ! I’ve seen it before ! I know what you’re trying to do and I won’t let you! »

« I have no other choice »

« You’re a coward, Kol Mikaelson! » She yelled, pushing him back with all the force she could muster, making him fall.

She could barely breathe and her body had started to shake. From the cold or the emotions, she didn’t know.

« This » She said, crying out and pointing at Kol and herself. « This is worth fighting for and you know it but you’re taking the easy way out, you’re giving up! »

« I’m giving you a chance to live, Y/N ! » He shouted back, throwing up his hands in frustration. « Can’t you see that ?! »

« All I see is you, breaking my heart »

This time the tears ran down his eyes.

« Why ? » Was all she had the strength to say anymore.

« In our worlds, with our enemies, a bond as strong as what we have will be considered a threat and be used against us, love » He started to explain.

Taking her hands in his, he kissed them before kissing her forehead.

« You are an echo, Y/N, my anchor in a brutal world, with the power to tear down walls I have built so high and deep. So though i need you, want you, love you … I most likely have to walk away »

A sob escaped her mouth, instantly making him regret everything he was saying and doing and he cursed himself a thousand deaths for the pain he was causing.

« I hate you » She murmured.

« No, you don’t. And I hope one day you’ll forgive me »

Suddenly, the wind seemed too cold and standing in the rain, Y/N never felt so vulnerable and powerless. This was selfish and beneath anything he had ever done. The growing pain was already unbearable as she stared back at him. She was sure his last words would play over and over again in her head. She knew she’d never be able to stop loving him, even with a broken heart. Every single part he was stealing of her, he was making it impossible for her to put it back together. She would remain empty without him, an unfinished puzzle with forever missing pieces.

#kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson fanfiction #kol mikaelson imagines #the originals #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikealson x reader #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikealson x reader #hayley marshall

[youalexturnermeon]

Hi! Hope you're well 😊

Can I request a Cobra Kai Johnny imagine? Its Johnny patching up the reader, maybe after a fight with Kreese or something like that? Thank you 😁

Request: see above

A/N: I decided to leave Kreese out of it because even the littlest thought of this man gives me high blood pressure. Also this has gotten very long but I tried to warn that the topic of being patched up by Johnny has been living in my head rentfree for a while. That’s why I got carried away. Enjoy your daily dose of one shot.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, alcohol angst and fluff

Wordcount: 2078 (oopsies)

Johnny was your neighbour, you moved in, right next door, a couple of months ago. So far, nothing more nothing less. Except the fact that you had the biggest crush on him, and he wasn��t that opposed to you either. Especially when he took his time got ready to go after his Karate classes when the Yoga group arrived to which he sublet his dojo and he stayed behind, sitting in his office, door open watching you, bent over, doing the most complicated figures ha had ever seen. Johnny thought Yoga was the biggest bullshit on earth, fuck Namaste and such, but when you were doing it right in front his thirsty eyes, he didn’t even need TV. He thought you were super-hot. The problem was that he was much older than you. And besides your Yoga passion and your joint love for beer that you sometimes had together, sitting on the ground in front of the apartment complex, he knew almost nothing about you. He wished he did, even more when you once caught him eyeing you doing the Downward Dog on the mat and instead of giving him the finger for being a creep you winked at him and grinned. That made him crazy. But he was too afraid to make a move, because, let’s be honest, you were young, you were beautiful, you were extremely hot – what the fuck should you do with an old man like him, to begin with. Johnny thought, you could have anyone you wanted, someone younger, taller, fitter, more buff than him.

Right now, Johnny was sitting on the ground in front of his apartment, a beer in his hand, a couple of spear ones just in case, thinking about the last time you sat here next to him, hoping you would come out your door or back from work joining him, just to talk and to drink. A few weeks ago, around that time, you just finished work, you were tired and angry in desperate need of a drink, you sat down to him and you shared that you were a barista at Starbucks, how much you hated some customers, how years ago you moved here to go to college and how you dropped out of it three years later, simple small talk getting superficially deeper with an increased number of beers. These were little things, but Johnny was longing for more of those, sitting waiting for this occasion to repeat itself. He wanted to know everything about you and unlike with other people he wanted to share his life with you, too.

After some time, Johnny, realizing how desperate and stupid he was, now acting like a teenager again, suddenly saw your silhouette in the dark, coming closer. His excitement grew, his heart started beating faster and as much as he hated it, his palms became all sweaty. He wated to jump up, run towards you, but he pulled himself together and just sat still, focusing on a little bug crawling on the ground, not daring to look up again

“Hi, Johnny” you said, sounding exhausted, when you finally approached him and heavily sat down, opening a beer without asking. Johnny was about to greet you back when he looked up from his stupid little insect friend, as he saw your roughed-up condition. His excitement vanished and glanced at you in utter horror. Your long (Y/H/C) hair was all messy, the collar of what has once been a shirt was ripped and hung loosely down your shoulder and when he inspected your face, he gulped. Right on your perfect cheekbone was a fresh bleeding wound surrounded by a huge flowering purple bruise. Your pretty face now twisted to a grimace from pain.

“Jesus Christ, (Y/N), what happened to you?” he asked perplexed, examining your whole body for other injuries he might’ve still not noticed yet.

You shook your head and grinned, “Nothing special, ran into my ex who was the reason I moved to the other side of town, he found out where I was working and decided to pick me up, apparently. He insists I still owe him money, which I don’t. And when I told him this we got into a little fight.”

“Did he do this to you?” Johnny pointed at your face and your now rugged shirt, him voice was filled with fury, he was right about to jump up and hunt that motherfucker down.

“Yeah, but you should’ve seen him when I was finished with him.”

Johnny was surprised how easily you took a big fat black eye, not voicing your pain, laughing away the fight with your ex.

“I kicked his ass!”

Johnny looked at your hands, eyes narrowed. And indeed, all signs showed him that you were able to fight back. Carefully he took your hand in his, making sure he would not hurt you anymore and pulled it closer to his face. Your knuckles were just as the right side of your face, bloody and bruised. You shivered under his touch but for the first time in what seemed to you like forever since you bumped into your ex, you felt your body relaxing. The tension in your shoulders vanishing just because Johnny held your hand in yours so softly. His own were rough from all the training but it felt so good.

“I’m no little bitch, I took a few boxing lessons when I was a teenager” you explained, “When he pulled my shirt, I slapped him, when he started hitting me, I started hitting him back hard, I still got it, then I kicked him in the nuts and managed to run away”

“I’m so, so, so happy to hear to nothing worse happened to you. Next time you see that jerk, you call me, okay? Or when you are afraid to go home by yourself, call me and I pick you up, I bring you home. When I ever see your ex somewhere near here or you, I’m gonna make sure, he’s never gonna touch you or come near you ever again. I’ll even kill that motherfucker for you!”

You laughed and looked into his piercing blue eyes who still showed so much worry and you knew, he was being dead serious.

“Thank you, Johnny!” you whispered, your hand still in his and yet you couldn’t help yourself to make a joke because you could not bear being too serious about your situation right now. You were not used to someone care about you too much.

“But do you think you could manage? Would you be able to kick his ass?” “Is me being a sensei at the dojo you do your stupid yoga in a joke to you, (Y/N)” Johnny said protectively but he too, was glad you could joke right now.

“That stupid yoga you always check my ass out thinking you’re so hidden in your office?”

“Well…” Johnny scratched his head and looked into the air thinking of an even pettier response than yours, but he couldn’t think of any “You got me there”

“I’m actually flattered” you admitted. Until now you weren’t so sure it was you, he was watching so closely.

“Great, now you only have to admit that you are checking me out as well when you’re done with Yoga and I’m leading a class.” You shrugged, “I sometimes do, I love myself a good-looking man who is great with shitty children” Johnny taking another sip of his beer almost choked on it. He was not expecting THAT.

“Alright, good to have this one settled” he said trying to play it cool “Now let’s go patch you up a little”

Without any hesitation or even backtalk which Johnny actually was expecting to get, you followed him and into his apartment. He sat you down on the couch with a new beer in your hand and disappeared into his bedroom.

“Are there any other injuries I should know about?” he yelled whilst rummaging in every cupboard.

“Well, besides my depression, I guess the bastard also managed to kick me in the ribs. Some ice would be great”

Johnny wasn’t even sure he had a first-aid kit somewhere, he wasn’t even sure he ever owned one. Ice would also be a problem, but he thought, a bag of frozen peas or a steak would do, too. After a little search he finally stood with a clean towel, a bottle of vodka and some band aids in front of you again. Firstly, he gave you the peas.

“Show me your ribs” he commanded, and you lifted your ripped shirt. Your complete left side was crowned by an even bigger and darker bruise than the one on your face. He was concerned and hoped nothing was broken and yet he almost shivered seeing your bare skin. To him, you were the most beautiful thing in the whole world right now, even with your beaten face.

“Looks bad” he said and sighed as he sat down next to you and watched you putting the bag of frozen vegetables on your ribs, you hissed.

“It’s nothing. They’re not broken. Broken ribs hurt like hell and this is really nothing compared to that.” Johnny lifted his eyebrows in question.

“I broke my ribs a couple of times” “So you’re a tough cookie?” “You’re not the only tough guy on the block, sensei. I’m not a pussy.” you laughed and friendly nudged him with your elbow. He loved when you called him sensei. And he was excited about the fact that your language was so similar to his. He started to like you even more than he already did.

“Aright, alright. If this is nothing, let’s take care of your face then.”

He turned to you, in his hand the towel now soaked in vodka. He cleaned the crusted blood from your knuckles first. Then, he took a deep breath, he carefully started dabbing the cut on your face. You clenched your teeth but didn’t make a sound.

“Good girl” he said, “No bitching or moaning, that’s good!”

You just watched his face, being just inches away from your own. You saw his concern; you saw that he cared, and your heart started pounding. Your glance followed his toned arms, eyeing his muscles, tensing under his motions. And when you looked at his eyes you saw that they were the bluest blue you have ever seen; you were about to pass out. He was so concentrated; he didn’t even notice you staring at him like a crazy person falling in love. It was only, when he finished sticking the band aid to your face, he realized you looked him straight in the eyes.

He said nothing, you two were just stuck in this moment, sitting on the couch, so close your legs touched, looking at each other, your face so close to him, he felt your hot breath. And then, something in him snapped. He wanted to kiss you!

“I’m gonna kiss you now, (Y/N)!”, he immediately voiced his thought and stroked your unharmed cheek, not asking for permission, just announcing what he was about to do.

“Yeah?” you managed to breath out almost completely silent. And the answer crushed promptly down on you. You closed your eyes and instantly felt soft lips on yours. Johnny, your neighbour Johnny, the Johnny who was so much older than you, the Johnny who you were crushing on since the moment he helped carry your boxes, was finally kissing you. The bag of peas slipped out of your hands and you let them rest on his thighs. Johnny was pulling you closer to his chest until there wasn’t any space left between you two. He was urging and yet so gentle, doing everything to not hurt you. He caressed your back, his left hand dug into your messy hair giving it a slight tug, but not once did his lips leave yours. After what seemed an eternity and yet just a second, he let go of you and pressed his forehead onto yours, out of breath, smiling because he just couldn’t keep himself from not doing it. You joined him.

“You’re gonna go out with me some time now, right?”, he asked laughing in disbelief of his own courage and what it have brought him. Now this question seemed so easy.

“Yeah, pick me up after my yoga lesson tomorrow” you giggled, “Maybe you’ll get another look at my ass”

“You bet!”

#johnny lawrence #johnny lawrence x reader #johnny lawrence imagine #johnny lawrence fluff #cobra kai imagine #cobra kai one shot #cobra kai #fluff #karate kid #karate kid imagine

[all-might-can-smash-me]

Exhibits

Toshinori Yagi / All Might x Reader

Summary: you run into a man at the hero exhibit on display at the museum you work at. You soon find out his name to be Toshinori Yagi and you two hit it off and eventually get married and what not...but little did you know that Toshinori Yagi had quite the secret.

Masterlist

The sounds of conversation fluttered softly through the whole exhibit. Children excitedly rushed from each case to the other, excitedly pointing to the mannequins that held their iconic poses with the most iconic hero costumes plastered on them or hardcore fans to geek out over seeing the details up close. Though the eye catcher of your little exhibit was the All Might display. Every costume from each age was displayed, lights illuminating each color and fiber beautiful for those small children or for anyone to get a closer look to the most iconic hero of all time in Japan. People would also stand in shock next to the cutout of the symbol of peace and gawk at the height difference between themselves and All Might. Thankfully, spare costumes were even provided in order for the visitors to touch and feel, so people were also letting their fingers graze over the fabric.

The exhibit was your pride and joy. Seeing all those visitors enjoying themselves and devouring and digesting every fact, detail, and color was amazing to observe as you walked about, name tag pinned proudly to your smart outfit as your heels clicked against the freshly waxed and polished floors of the museum.

“Sorry, but please, no touching the class cases and please stand behind the line we have on the floor right here.” You said sweetly to a few kids who had their faces pressed up against one of the class that protected one of the costumes. The kids, embarrassed, backed up with sad moans. “But....if you go around the corner over there...you can touch every age of All Might’s costumes...” you said, the kids giving their excited ‘thanks!’ As they hurriedly off to where you instructed them to go. You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched them disappear around the corner, you beginning to turn around, but let out a gasp as you found yourself almost running into someone. “I am so sorry!” You quickly gushed out as your hands automatically went to the other’s arms, balancing yourself before taking a step back.

“Oh no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stop so close behind you.” The other man mumbled out as he held a hand up in reassurance, a small blush upon his cheeks, but he quickly cleared his throat before motioning a hand to the costume that sat off to the side. “So...um...Gran Torino, huh?” He said a bit awkwardly, but you only giggled as you turned to look to the costume on display.

“Yes, I had to track him down in order to ask to borrow it, but he happily obliged when I did meet him. It adds a nice touch, I feel we focus on what happens in our own years instead and not admire the hero’s that were prevalent in the years before us.” You commented, soon casting a glance to him, casting him a little grin with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Really? Tell me, who are your favorite heroes then.” The gaunt man before you asked, you taking in a breath before letting a sigh, a finger brought of your to you chin in though. Though you finally brought your hand back down from your face, prepared to answer.

“Well, All Might since he played such a huge role in everyone’s lives in Japan, including me.” You said with a little laugh, your tone so matter of fact. “His face and name is the one I found myself looking for in the media and news, but of course there’s Endeavor and Best Jeanist.” You listed off. Though the man before you nodded his head, but then moved to face you, giving a small bow.

“I’m Toshinori Yagi...” He introduced himself, which when you began to introduce yourself, he shook his head, motioning to your name tag. “Don’t worry, I got your name...” he said jokingly, causing a small giggle to erupt from you as you shyly looked down to your feet until back at him. “Well, can you give me a little tour of this exhibit?” He asked, you nodding your head before leading him through the different displays, jokingly and dramatically motioning to each one which gained a laugh from him as you went on. Though as the time went on, more and more people began to file out for the end of the day, the museum beginning to near its closing. That left you and him along before the All Might costumes that were on display in order for viewers to touch them. You couldn’t help but lean forward and allow your fingers to run over the fabric, a soft smile upon your face.

“Now this...this is what I’m most proud of.” You spoke out with a grin to him over your shoulder. “Imagine being able to touch something that makes the symbol of peace the symbol of peace.” You said as you looked back to the costume, admiration upon your face as you look to the display, arms crossed. “Plus cosplayers and designers who come to look for inspiration can get a better look at the materials and I know being able to touch it helps them quite a lot.” You said with a shrug of your shoulders, watching Toshinori reach out to give a small touch to the costume before retracting his hand. He was just about to say something, but the announcement that the museum was now closing interrupted him.

“I have to go...” he mumbled out as he listened to the announcement echoed around his head as he looked to you. He had to admit, he was disappointed that the time with you and talking with you was cut mercilessly.

“I’ll see you around, I’ll be here everyday for the next couple of weeks before everything is packed up and sent back to their original owners.” You said, a hopeful look glinting in your eye as you looked to him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Definitely...”

And he was being truthful as he said that since the next day he was back again, matching suit jacket to his yellow, pinned striped suit draped over his arm as he made his way through the exhibit again, blue eyes staring up to those poses with wonder. Though you were excitedly walking up to him, a hand rested upon his arm.

“Hey!” You said, hand tucking away pesky hairs that had fallen from the pins you had in your hair, a grin upon your face. That became a routine between the two of you. Meet up, walk about and discuss different things. It was nice, but one day that announcement had become enough for Toshinori.

“Want to go grab something to drink? Or eat?” He asked, you quickly nodding your head.

“Yes! Yes, just...wait for me outside, I just have to go grab my things.” You said before rushing off, leaving him to smile away to the clomps of your heels. So with that he waited outside, suit jacket now upon his body as he shoved his hands into the depths of his pocket, waiting and waiting...until finally those familiars clicks reached his ears.

“Alright! I’m ready!” You happily chirped as you adjusted your purse on your shoulder, a grin on your lips as you linked your arm with his, letting him lead your down the sidewalks painted orange by the setting sun. The two of you decided on a small little rotation sushi joint, the two of your tucked away by the conveyor belt, cardigan and suit jackets tossed off to the side as the two of you laughed and giggled to something the other said.

“No! Honestly! This guy stomps into my exhibit and wanted to square up with me over the costumes being ‘fakes’ or whatever and that he knew it because of his years studying it in a ‘hero encyclopedia’ you snorted out as you took a sip from your drink, Toshinori laughing across from you, grabbing the plate that contained the sushi he had ordered from the little kiosk at the table.

“What got you into the museum life though? Not really a popular career path...not that it’s a bad thing.” He quickly elaborated as he continued to eat, looking to you to await your answer.

“I love museums...and my quirk played a role...” you said as you scrolled through the options on the menu absent mindedly, casting a side glance to him. “My quirk allows me to be really....um...perceptive with colors and lighting. I can see colors better than any human, animal, organism, you name it. So with that, I can really maneuver things in order to get the best view of it and obtain great lighting too to achieve it. That’s why my exhibits are always such a hit, especially when it comes to showing off clothing. Historical and traditional garments, movie costumes, heroes, a lot.” You explained, finally deciding on something from the menu before clicking the option, now facing him again. “What about you?”

“Me?” He said with a raised brow, clicking his chopsticks in his hands as he thought it over, arm lent forward and onto the table. “Just some lousy pawn for an agency..” he said with a little laugh. “I’m quirkless...so not really a lot of options in the playing field, so paperwork upon paperwork it is” He said with a shrug of his shoulders as he leant his cheek onto his leant up fist, watching you grab the sushi you had ordered.

“Well quirkless or not, I still like you, even if I don’t like the fact that you called yourself lousy.” You said with a grin as you grabbed ahold of your chopsticks. “Besides, once you really think about it, I just see a lot of color, that’s it, so really I could be considered quirkless too.” You said with a laugh as you began to eat again, Toshinori finishing up and now leant back into the booth, arms crossed over his chest. “I never had a chance at heroic work and whatnot.” You said after you swallowed the food in your mouth.

“Did you want to become a hero?” He asked, you scrunching up your face in thought before giving a firm nod of your head.

“Well yeah, who doesn’t as a child? I was certainly no different, but as I got older, I realized that with my quirk, I wasn’t going anywhere. So I enrolled in UA’s general studies...” you said, the two sushi roles left on your plate forgotten as you leaned back to relax too with your full and content stomach.

“Wait....you said you liked me.” Toshinori said with a small, little smirk upon his lips as he leaned forward on the table again.

“Well, yeah. What’s the point of me not being up front about it when I literally spent the past two weeks talking with you at the museum and excepting your offer to go out to eat.” You said with a shrug of your shoulders, now sipping from your drink, the condensation rolling off and dripping it’s little droplets of water onto the table. “Anyways, I went to college and studied art history and the fine arts.” You said as your drink was now set back down and forgotten off to the side, passing a napkin to clean up the water that had dripped off of your class and onto the table. Though a waiter had interrupted what he was about to say, Toshinori paying for the bill before getting up and slipping his suit jacket back on, helping you up from the booth and handing you your purse before walking out of the restaurant with you, your arm wrapped around his as the two of your now waited at the bus stop. On the bus you let your head rest upon his shoulder, a comfortable silence now resting upon both of you, even when you were now stepping up to your apartment door, the lights of cars dancing upon the horizon past the railings that lead down the walkway to each apartment. “Would you maybe...like to come in for a bit?” You asked as you pulled out your apartment keys with a jingle, a soft nod of his head answering you as his fingers hooked onto yours.

He didn’t leave until that morning, leaving his number and a note that he had work. Toshinori at your house had become a normal occurrence. To the point where now you had a little section of your closet just for him, extra pairs of suits hanging away in their protective bags and along with casual clothing, night clothes tucked away with your own in a drawer. It brought a smile to your face to walk in and see them, not being able to help but shove your nose into the fabric to get the wonderful serotonin the smell of the remnants of his cologne would give you. The best sleep of your life happened too in his arms and evenings were spent cuddled away on your couch watching movies or him working on paper work as you would cook dinner. It was a nice, domestic routine the two of you had formed and enjoyed immensely. It carried on for a few years until finally he popped the question, officially moved in, and got married. One day though, you were cuddled up into his side, watching some random stuff on the television when it was interrupted by a news segment show casing All Might. Honestly, it was pretty normal, so you kind of just decided to deal with the interview that was playing on screen.

“How do you think he manages all that? Interviews, teaching at UA, and then also with being a hero.” You said with a laugh as the interviewer tried to crack a joke and point out the mysterious wedding band that was on All Might’s finger that drove the world insane with how the mystery woman was. “AND be married.” You added, moving to wrap the blankets around you and Toshinori, the other only letting out a chuckle as he helped you.

“Why you say that?” He asked, arms resting back onto you after the blankets were to you and his liking, now looking down to you, pressing a kiss onto your forehead.

“Come on, he’s always jumping around fighting crime plus dealing with students at UA, his wife has got to be pissed that he’s away all the time, like she probably doesn’t want to do all the dishes or laundry by herself anymore.” You joked as you looked up to him before looking back to the tv, but something was up with Toshinori after that interview ended. He was...antsy, kept moving around. “Hey, so you need to walk around? You keep moving.” You spoke up as you looked up to him again.

“Hm? Oh, sorry.” He muttered out, now back to staring off to the tv, but something made you feel like he was only day dreaming, but you only shrugged your shoulders. “Actually....I have something to tell you...” he muttered out, you moving to sit up, looking to him now.

“Toshinori...you don’t have to feel bad.....I know you washed something red with the towels and that’s why they are pink....” you said, busting out with a little snort, gaining a little huff and a roll of Toshinori’s eyes as he watched you laugh.

“No, that’s not what I was going to say, but ok I did that, but no...” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m...I’m All Might...” he finally spoke out, you looking at him blankly before laughing.

“Oh har har Toshinori...nice joke, that’s a new one, I don’t think I’ve heard it in our last, what, six years of marraige?” You asked teasingly as you grabbed the tv remote to begin channel surfing again, but your husband had already took the remote. “Hey...!” you said with a pout, your husband now standing before you.

“I can prove it!” He declared, you raising your eyebrows up at him. “Remember the exhibit? How we met?” He questioned, you only giving a nod of your head, leaning back into the couch, hands pulling the discard blanket back onto your lap. “You wrote to my angency asking for the one and only support item that I used to direct air whenever I would use my force to manipulate it, but I didn’t send it.” He spoke out, you only rolling your eyes.

“You’re really good sweetheart, but any intermediate fan who studied his ages knows that one.” You said as you pointed a finger at him, he only looking at you in disbelief as you went to grab for the remote, but he only moved it away. That’s when a hiss sounded out and...smoke? It was like your husband was being inflated before you....

“I am here!” Came out that iconic voice, All Might, well your husband, stood before you, baggy night shirt and shorts now tight against the bulging physique of All Might.

“What the fuck!” You shouted, now grabbing one of the pillows on the couch to throw it at All Might, now crawling off the couch and running across the room and into the kitchen. “Ah!” You screamed again once you saw All Might begin to run after you, now proceeding in a constant cycle of chasing around the kitchen table.

“Stop running! I’m not going to hurt you! I’m your husband!” He shouted, you and him now twitching from side to side, trying to see which way the other would run from their side of the table.

“Six years! I slept in a bed next to you, cooked with you AND for you, made love to you, and have been married to you for six years! You tell me this after six years!?” You shouted at him from your place, hands gripping onto the chairs before you, but once again you and him were running, now he was where you were and you were where he was.

“When was I ever suppose to bring it up?! I didn’t want to endanger you! And I didn’t want you to think of me differently!” He spoke out, head almost hitting the hanging lights above the table as he leaned forward, hands pressed on top of the table. “Stop running!”

“Stop chasing me! You know I hate people running after me because I just run on instinct!” You cried out as you were once again running away, All Might now jumping over the table and following after you.

“Ow!” He yelled out as he bumped his head on the door way of the your shared bedroom, stumbling back a bit as his head went to the little gash on his head, you finally stopping your running.

“Are you ok?!” You gasped out, you now standing before him, trying to reach your hands up, but it was in vain. He was extremely taller than you. “Let me clean it up, Toshinori.” You spoke out as you grabbed onto his free hand, leading him into the bathroom, throwing the lid to the toilet down which he instantly sat on as he watched you pull out the first aid, already cleaning the gash on his forehead.

“I’m sorry...” he soon muttered out as you motioned for him to hold a small piece of gauze down so you could anchor it down with medical tape. “I wanted to tell you, but I was scared that you would feel differently or whatever, you know? I let myself think the worse would happen.” He spoke out, you sighing as you hopped up onto the counter space in between the two sinks of the master bedroom’s bathroom, legs swinging gently as you looked to your husband before you. It was strange to see All Might, the Symbol of Peace, and attach the title ‘Husband’ to him in your head.

“Hm...so that’s why All Might mysteriously had a wedding ring.” You finally spoke out as you used your foot to nudge at his hand with the ring, he only laughing and grabbing ahold of your foot to set it upon his knee, hands beginning to absentmindedly run at your leg. Though the man before you looked completely different from what your husband had usually looked like, his habits and actions were all the same, except that voice...that was gonna need some getting use to.

“Yeah...I didn’t want to take the ring off...” he said as he scratched the back of his neck with a little blush upon his face. “I still wanted to show off that I myself was happily married, so I just didn’t take it off, but it was hard to not just blab about you.” He said sheepishly, you blushing a little bit, hopping down from the counter, stepping up from him, though you brought your fist down to his arm. “Ow- I mean that totally didn’t hurt but what was that for?!” He asked as he brought a hand up to rub the spot you punched.

“That’s what you get for lying to me!” You said before tossing your arms around his neck. “But my husband is All freaking Might! That’s kind of cool...” you spoke out with a giggle as you pulled back from the hug.

“Yes...but also I got one more thing...”

“Oh no...what now” you said with a sigh, fear on your face.

“I want my students to meet you! And the teachers!” He gushed out as he held onto your hands.

“You want me to meet your students and coworkers? That’s an obvious yes”

“Oh hell yes!”

#all might x oc #all might x you #all might x reader #all might #toshinori yagi x reader #toshinori yagi x you #yagi toshinori #yagi toshinori imagine #yagi toshinori x reader #bnha all might #mha all might #bnha toshinori #mha toshinori #toshinori yagi imagine #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero academy fanfiction #bnha headcanons #bnha x reader #bnha oneshots

[scvrllet]

imagine being apart of the marauders (or at least close friends with them)

wrote this running on 0 hours of sleep so I’ll be editing soon

running into them during one of their pranks in third year

them thinking you were going to rat them out

but instead you lectured them about how idiotic their plan was then told them how they could’ve done better

them being quite shocked

slowly becoming friends

would definitely prank you

because they just wanted to see what you’d do as payback so they could get a few new ideas since they were running out

them seeing you as their little sister by the end of third year

a vast majority of the school thinking you’re dating all three of them

you’re not, of course

but that doesn’t stop people from thinking so

so you guys just ignore them

if they keep bothering you James and Sirius would probably hex them

or the four of them would prank them

or both

being very protective of you when another student starts getting a little too close or stares for a little too long

“I don’t need to be babied!”

“Shut up, do you want some chocolate?”

oh and speaking of chocolate

they know how to help you through your periods

lots of blankets for cuddling

having an almost endless supply of chocolates, candies and whatever else you may want

Remus helping you study and recommending new books he thinks you might enjoy

“Hey (Y/N), have you read this book yet? I just finished it and it’s really good, you should read it sometime.”

eventually he’d just stop asking and just place it on your bed along with some chocolate

the Marauders not letting you go with them on full nights

them also being scared to tell you at first, especially Remus

but you didn’t really mind

so while they were out on the full moon, you’d be sneaking around the castle getting as much food as possible

Sirius coming to you for advice

letting his walls down whenever he was around you

platonic cuddles!

lots and lots of platonic cuddling

James would be the most protective over you

he’s already the mother hen of the Marauders

but with you?

oh boy

just goes full protection mode

sometimes he can be a little too much

but it’s just because he doesn’t want to see you get hurt

by anyone

will punch someone who looks at you wrong with no hesitation

Peter sneaking around the school with you late at night when you’re bored

often sneaks food to you when you’re hungry in class

when James and Lily started talking at the end of sixth year she’s undeniably jealous of you

she thinks you like him and her smile instantly drops when you’re near

because she’d enter the Gryffidnor Common Room to look for James

only to see him laying on the couch with his head in your lap while you hummed a song, eyes glued to your book

she’d just turn around then ignore him for the next week

that is until seventh year starts

and the two of you are paired together for Potions

it was awkward at first

she’d flash you a convincing smile

though not convincing enough

and you just politely smiled back

but 10 minutes in and Professor Slughorn says something

you quietly mock him under your breathe thinking no one would hear you

but Lily did and she almost got kicked out of class for laughing

and that was the beginning of your friendship with Lily Evans

the boys were very confused a week later when they saw you walk towards her and instead of frowning she pulled you into a hug ?

“When did this happen?”

“Potions.”

helping James ask her out

helping Lily realize her feelings for James

being the one both of them would come to for relationship advice

Jily finally becoming an official couple

going to the Potters for the Christmas holidays

getting a little too drunk in his basement which resulted in everyone passing out

you woke up in Sirius’ arms on the couch

Lily with James’ head on her lap on the opposite side of the couch

Remus had pushed two arm chairs together to sleep

(he was also the most sober one and placed blankets on all of you before going to sleep himself )

Peter was sprawled on the ground

joining The Order right after graduating

you and Sirius being named godparents after Harry is born

the two of spoiled the child beyond belief

then Voldemort happens and whatever

Sirius is wrongfully imprisoned because Pettigrew’s a pussy

you gain custody of Harry James Potter

and though Remus tried to get joint custody and it didn’t work, he often visited and helped you raise Harry

you knew Sirius didn’t kill Pettigrew

Remus, however, did not

you’d still tell Harry about Sirius though because he’s his godfather

time skip to when Sirius escapes Azkaban but instead of staying at 12 Grimmauld Place, he stays at yours

a fairly large house in a Muggle community

Sirius being so happy to finally see you, Remus and Harry again

but then old Voldy comes back again

Battle of the Department of Mysteries happens

and while Remus was holding Harry back from running through the veil with Sirius

you were chasing after Bellatrix

successfully using crucio on her

only stopping when you realized Harry - and his friends - were watching

though they understood and didn’t judge

you broke down that night

and when Harry came the next night the two of you ate dinner in silence

time skip again lmao to Battle of Hogwarts

Tonks and Remus die

you being the last Marauder alive

and being the only one able to grow old with your family

“(Y/N) is most likely to outlive us all.” You remembered James saying one night in the Gryffidnor Common Room

“Why must you always be right, Potter?”

naming your kids after the Marauders

also being the only one to die of old age

though when you woke up one day you noticed you were 17 again and quite scared because what the hell was happened

and you seemed to be in your old dorm back at Hogwarts

then you realized

“Took you long enough.”

A/N: If you don’t understand the ending, reader died (naturally in their sleep) and one (or all) of the Marauders said that last line (you can imagine whoever you’d like)

Taglist (there’s bits of Sirius Black x Platonic!Reader so this counts right?): @jellybeanduck99 @coldlilheart @strangerpilot011 @bravelyparker @emmaloo21 @lozzybowe @jjklefttoe @kamilantya (couldn’t tag you for some reason, sorry) 

#the marauders #the marauders era #marauders au #the marauders headcanon #the marauders imagine #the marauders x reader #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #remus lupin #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin x reader #moony #sirius black #sirius black headcanon #sirius black x reader #padfoot #james potter #james potter headcanon #james potter x reader #prongs #peter pettigrew #peter pettigrew headcanon #peter pettigrew x reader #wormtail #harry potter au #harry potter series #harry potter universe #harry potter imagine #harry potter headcanon #harry potter x reader #harry potter