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asamiontop · 7 months

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Supercorptober - Wild or…

Captain Underpants (also on Ao3)

Lena: Text me when you get this.

Kara squints at the message. If she narrows her eyes to slits, the photonic assault hurts her eyeballs less. The text is from Lena, so she answers right away. Doesn’t matter that it’s far past late at night and still hours away from early morning.

Kara: hey got your message. what’s up?

She thinks, mistakenly, that Lena will be asleep. She hopes, misguidedly, that that will afford her a few precious hours of rest herself. Her phone chimes and shatters that fantasy in its infancy.

Lena: Are you home?

That’s concerning. Even through the swampiness of fading inebriation and a blossoming hangover, Kara’s synapses spark to life at the idea that Lena may be in trouble.

Kara: I’m home. everything okay?

The response comes back so fast that Kara suspects Lena started typing before she’d even answered.

Lena: I’m coming over.

Kara glances blearily at her alarm clock. 2:47am. Something is definitely wrong.

It’s a testament to her body’s exhaustion that, despite the urgency, Kara manages to fall asleep. She jolts awake to the sound of cannonballs exploding in her ears, the echoes rattling around in her skull. Her superhearing is out of whack from the sleep or the alcohol or both and nearby noise is amplified a thousandfold. The resounding knock at her door sounds more like a battering ram than a fist.

“Kara?” Lena’s voice drifts through the apartment and all other noise seems to melt away. The soothing effect is immediate. Kara’s heart slides back down her throat and thumps in relief. She sags into her pillow with a sigh before she remembers the fact that Lena is visiting her at three in the morning.

Kara superspeeds to the entryway. She just barely reminds herself to touch down on the floor before unlocking the deadbolt.

“Lena!” Kara whips her door open. She’s prepared for the whole range of human emotion, perhaps some tears or sobs or panic or any external sign of distress.

Instead Lena greets her with pursed lips (puckered in that distracting way that accentuates the crisp line of her jaw), a tilted head, and brassy raise of her eyebrow. Lena looks as beautiful as ever in the middle of the night, but she certainly does not appear distressed.

She gives Kara an undisguised once-over.

“Hello, Supergirl,” Lena deadpans.

All the oxygen leaves the room. Kara’s anatomy doesn’t require much of it, but she still feels like she’s choking on the lack of air. Her eyes bug out and she momentarily loses all cognitive function as her half-drunk system begins a hard reboot into this new reality where apparently Lena now knows her secret identity. The corner of Lena’s mouth twitches victoriously and somehow that is what kicks Kara back to the land of the living.

Without so much as a warning, she snags Lena by the wrist and yanks her bodily into the apartment. It’s a whole miracle Kara doesn’t slam the door off its hinges as Lena stumbles past the threshold.

“Heh—Supergi—that’s funny—what, uh.” Kara squeaks, sounding totally normal. She whirls around to face her friend with a manic laugh and round, wild eyes, “W-what are you talking about?”

Alex teases Kara relentlessly for her inability to play it cool. As she scratches the back of her own neck only to realize that her hair is down and her glasses are sitting uselessly on her nightstand, then completely misses the wall she intended to lean against and surreptitiously floats to keep her balance, Kara admits that her sister may be onto something.

“Kara, please.” Lena’s eyebrow lifts so high that her forehead wrinkles to accommodate it. “Don’t insult me.”

She opens her mouth to speak but something about the way Lena’s regarding her—resolute and impatient, like she’s just waiting for Kara to catch up so they can move on— makes her snap her jaw shut. Kara abandons her remaining denial with a long exhale.

She can’t help but cling to a thread or plausible deniability though.

“What, um.” Kara clears her throat. “What makes you think that I’m—” her voice cracks on the words, so foreign to her in this context— “that I’m Supergirl?”

Instead of answering, Lena raises an unimpressed eyebrow. Wordlessly, she turns on her heel and heads for Kara’s coffee table. Puzzled, the superhero follows. She just about combusts when Lena flicks on the television.

There, in what must have been filmed by a cell-phone, is Supergirl, twirling through the air suitless and cape-less—wearing nothing save for a matching sports bra and boxers. Kara’s jaw unhinges. She thinks her eyes hurt from how wide they’ve gotten. Supergirl’s hair is blowing freely in the breeze and she looks absolutely delighted as she corkscrews aimlessly above the city, half-naked and carefree.

Kara watches in horror as the video zooms in shamelessly on her butt. (Rao damn The Fruit for stuffing their mobile devices with such capable cameras.) This, mortifyingly, is precisely where Lena chooses to pause the coverage. She clicks the remote, freezing the frame on a screenful of Kara’s backside, and points an elegant but accusatory finger at the blown-up image of Kara’s favorite underwear.

It’s not just any old set of underwear. These ones are indescribably soft and comfortable. They fit just right, snug in all the right places, and they are adorned with a bizarrely adorable pattern of cartoon potstickers, puppies, and chopsticks. Most precious of all, they were a gift from one Lena Luthor last Christmas.

Kara ventures a shifty glance at the CEO, whose eyebrow is still quirked expectantly.

Stupidly, Kara blurts the first thing occurs to her. “That could be anyone.”

A second eyebrow climbs to match the first, shifting Lena’s expression from confident to incredulous in a single movement.

“I—I mean,” the superhero stammers, “it’s a really cute pattern a-and maybe Supergirl got herself the same set you bought me.”

Lena’s eyes close slowly, patiently and she shakes her head. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she mutters, “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“Why not?” Kara demands, incomprehensibly committed to her flimsy excuse. “Lots of people like potstickers and puppies!”

“Because they are custom, Kara.” Lena’s head tilts sharply and she skewers the blonde with a pointed look. “I had them custom-made for your gift.”

“Oh.” Kara blinks. “You did?” Her voice ticks up at the end, betraying how oddly touched she feels at the gesture.

Lena appears exhausted but at least somewhat amused now. “Yes. Did you think I happened to fortuitously stumble upon the exact combination of all your favorite things printed on the exact type of undergarment you happen to favor?”

“Um… yes?” Kara shrugs even as the feeble defense crumbles around her. “You can find anything on the internet nowadays.”

Lena sighs. “Kara.” The super’s eyes lock on hers and Lena deliberately drags her green gaze down Kara’s front and slowly back up.

The hint of heat in Lena’s eyes isn’t lost on the Kryptonian, so her face is already two shades pinker than normal when she follows Lena’s stare down her own body.

Her cheeks flame up fully at the visual reminder that she is in fact still wearing the offending undergarments and precious little else.

“Oh.” Kara swallows. She is fully on display for Lena—not only mostly undressed, which induces its own type of stirrings in her belly, but also in clothes unmistakably identical to the superhero frozen on the screen. It’s four coincidences too many.

“Oh,” Lena parrots, nodding once.

Kara’s arms cross instinctively over her bare stomach. She’s ashamed. Not of her body, but of attempting to keep up such a charade without a lick of self-awareness. Mostly, she’s ashamed of hiding the truth from the person with whom she’d most wanted to share it.

Frankly, it’s a monumental relief to be unshackled from her secret. Without the burden of her identity, Kara can truly give Lena her full self, share all the bits and pieces of her that have sat leaden and unspoken on the tip of her tongue for months. Now that Kara has the liberty to be well and truly honest, maybe she can finally entertain the budding intimacy and extra warmth that’s been building around her best friend. She’s never felt quite so enthralled to be the focus of someone’s gaze before and maybe if—

Kara shakes her head, clearing away the cobwebs of hope. There’s a very different reality to be faced right now.

Casting an anxious glance at her feet, Kara flexes her toes and reaches for the grounding sensation of the grain in the hardwood.

Kara swallows thickly, mind alight with all the wrong turns this revelation can take, all the covert ways her secret could have already poisoned their relationship beyond recovery.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbles, forcing her voice to remain steady even as she collapses into a defeated heap on the couch.

After a few seconds of silence, she gathers all the courage in her rapidly accelerating heart and glances up for Lena’s reaction.

Once again her best friend surprises her. Lena doesn’t seem mad or hurt or resentful. She looks… perplexed, if not a little exasperated.

“What exactly are you apologizing for?” Lena asks slowly once their eyes lock.

Kara senses her own crinkle bunching between her eyebrows to match Lena’s. “For keeping this from you,” she answers dejectly.

Lena’s eyes widen and Kara rushes to justify herself. The explanation clambers out of her of its own accord, gathering momentum and volume like a snowball rolling downhill.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you so badly, Lena. For months! You’re one of the most important people in my life! I trust you. I–I can’t really explain it, but something about you has always made me feel safe. I just, I felt like I knew you from the moment we met. And that feeling hasn’t faded at all. In fact, it’s grown stronger. I think maybe it’s even become—”

Kara stops short of broaching that subject and launches up off the couch, beginning a proper maniacal pacing across her living room floor.

“You didn’t even need to but you went ahead and proved to me and Supergirl and everyone in the world that you are even more noble and good than I imagined. You are so incredible, Lena. Of everyone I love, you deserve to know this part of me. But—but this superhero thing is so complicated. There are all these rules with the DEO and it’s not always safe for the people that know my identity and—”

“Kara—”

“—and as much as I wanted to be completely open with you, I couldn’t risk you getting hurt. I can’t. I won’t. So then—”

“Kara, darling.” The endearment smashes sideways into Kara and brings her ramble to a skidding, screeching halt. “Stop talking.”

Dumbstruck, Kara does. She turns back to Lena and nearly suffocates at the fondness she finds shining back at her. It’s accompanied by a dash of amusement and that same exasperation from before, but the affection is there and it’s so warm that Kara’s cheeks heat up to match. How Lena can still look at her like that after what Kara’s kept from her is… it feels unfair.

“I’m really sorry Lena,” Kara insists quietly, this time staring directly into those striking windows of sea-glass green and willing her to see how acutely she means it.

“Don’t be.” Lena’s expression softens even further and Kara wonders if this is how it would feel to live life as a lava cake. Airy on the outside and melty on the inside. Warm and delicious all over. It’s nice. Maybe she can get Lena to eat her if—Kara blinks out of her daze. Okay so perhaps she is still a teensy, weensy bit tipsy.

Lena doesn’t seem to notice her brief departure because she adds very earnestly, “I understand why your identity needs safeguarding. I can’t imagine very many people know this about you.”

“No,” Kara agrees, eyes seeking the floor again.

“Frankly, I wouldn’t have expected you to reveal something so sensitive to someone like me.”

The self-deprecation in Lena’s tone is unacceptable. Kara is about to protest that she wanted to—would have if not for the magical influence of Alex’s good sense—when Lena shrugs.

“And we’ve only known one another for a year. There are bound to be some secrets.” The next part is whispered, as if Lena doesn’t mean for Kara to hear. “God knows I have some.”

“Wait—” Kara teeters closer, itching with that Lena-fueled curiosity that swims constantly through her veins.

Lena’s eyebrow twitches haughtily and she smiles, reaching out to pat Kara’s hand. “Matters for another time, darling.”

She wraps her fingers loosely around Kara’s and guides them both onto the couch. Kara, ostensibly still in her underwear, pulls a throw pillow into her lap.

Without warning, Lena resumes the video. The frozen widescreen snapshot of Kara’s behind shrinks away mercifully to the top corner of her TV, revealing a smirking newscaster barely keeping her laughter at bay. Her brown eyes dance as she describes Supergirl’s latest antics in excruciating detail to whichever unfortunate souls are watching at this time of the night.

“Why are we still watching this?” Kara mumbles, hugging the pillow to her chest. Lena remains placidly silent.

Just as Kara thinks her public shaming is complete, a new video overtakes the screen. This one is shot from a much better—or incriminating—angle. Namely, a news helicopter hovering at altitude, level with Supergirl as she floats in lazy spirals then flutters hundreds of feet down, playful and giggling, before shooting back up and starting again.

Kara really takes the cake when she stops mid-somersault and flashes the camera an unfocused wave and a dazzling smile. ‘Up, up and away,’ the half-naked superhero slurs. Then she proceeds to plunge straight out of the sky, giggling gleefully as she falls.

“Oh god,” Kara groans as the camera swings wildly to chase her back into the frame. It finally catches up to her as Kara’s trajectory is intercepted by a green-black blur. She and the blur disappear in a flash of red and the video gives way to the newscaster once more, speculating about the inexplicable nature of her behavior.

So that’s why J’onn had showed up to fly Supergirl home.

“I…” Is there kryptonite in the room or is she just burning up from sheer embarrassment? “I don’t remember doing that,” Kara whispers, quiet as a mouse.

Beside her, Lena snorts. Kara swivels to glare at her but the image of Lena stifling a laugh into the tips of her fingers is entirely too cute to hold a grudge against. She pouts instead.

Eventually the CEO regains her composure and asks, exceedingly gentle, “What do you remember?”

Kara’s features scrunch into a frown as she replays the last several hours in her head. It’s somewhat blurry, but there’s a chronological consistency to the snippets of clarity.

“It… it was my night off,” Kara begins. A picture of Alex’s rowdy laugh shimmers to life in her mind’s eye and she smiles. “Sister’s night.”

Lena nods, smiles just because Kara did and that—that’s really something. Her heart does a happy little flump. Then she remembers.

“That’s why I didn’t have my supersuit!” Kara snaps her fingers. “J’onn told us he had everything covered tonight. He said we should take the night to really unwind.”

Lena’s unimpressed little ah sets Kara into a guilty grimace. “I… don’t think this is what he meant he meant by unwind,” Kara admits.

“Probably not.” Lena agrees. It’s a gentle admonishment and a flat tease all in one and Kara is too busy thinking that Lena is miraculous to be at all bothered by the joke at her expense. “What did you two plan for sister’s night?”

“Well… Alex came over and we had a few drinks. I remember she brought some sort of alien punch or something. I don’t know what was in it but it was really yummy. I… got a little drunker than I meant to.”

Kara omits the part where she ignored Alex’s warning about the potency of said beverages because ‘I have a Kryptonian metabolism Alex. I’ll be fine.’

“Oh. So this…” Lena gestures vaguely in the direction of the television. It’s paused on another unflattering view from below and Kara wrinkles her nose. “Was alcohol-induced?”

“Yeah…” she admits, dragging out the word.

Lena raises an eyebrow. “And… voluntary?”

“Um. Yes.”

Lena regards her for a long moment, then releases a gargantuan breath. Her shoulders fall with it, settling almost one full inch below where they’d been twisted in tension since she arrived. “Well that’s a relief,” she exhales.

“It—it is?” Kara tilts her head.

“I thought you’d been poisoned.” Lena looks at her sharply and Kara swallows. “I was… concerned.”

The flash of vulnerability in her eyes is as close as Lena gets to chastising her, but Kara still feels it like a punch to the gut. It doesn’t take much work to put herself in Lena’s shoes, to imagine the sensation of the ground dropping out from underneath her when a slew of worst case scenarios take up residence in her brain. Combined with the realization that Supergirl’s erratic behavior is also her best friend’s, it might just warrant the frazzled and urgent messages in the middle of the night.

“I’m sorry,” Kara winces. “I promise I’m okay. Just a bit hungover, probably.” She pauses thoughtfully. “If it makes you feel any better, you weren’t entirely wrong.” Lena’s brow furrows and Kara grins dumbly, if only to inject a little levity into the moment. “Alcohol is pretty much poison. I just, you know, did the poisoning myself. I had a great time.”

There’s a stifled snort sound again and then Lena’s chuckling, loose at last and shaking her head fondly. Kara melts into the angelic sound, into the familiarity and affection twinkling within.

“So long as you’re okay,” Lena adds.

“I’m alright,” Kara reassures. She reaches for Lena’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “I promise.”

Keeping their hands joined, Lena tips her head curiously. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand.”

“Yeah?”

“If you and Alex were home—here, then why did you leave without your suit on?”

“Oh, uh...” Kara thinks for a moment. “We went out at some point. Alex convinced me to go to Al’s—the alien bar—to meet up with Maggie—which,” Kara bristles and sniffs loudly, “was extremely generous of me, considering it was sister’s night.”

She glances at Lena for validation but her best friend just blinks placidly and waits. Kara pauses to wonder if she’s causing any sort of distress with all of the alien information she’s tossing her way. After a few seconds of Kara studying her, Lena finally raises her eyebrows in question.

“Sorry,” Kara shakes her head. “Anyway. We went to the bar and had a couple more drinks. And then—this is where things get kind of fuzzy.” Kara blushes. “Alex left with Maggie, I think.”

“Alex left you at the bar alone? While you were clearly not sober?” Lena’s face screws into a glare of disapproval. “That doesn’t sound like Agent Danvers.”

Kara barks a laugh at the formal form of address. “No, it definitely doesn’t,” she concedes. “I don’t think she actually left me though… I remember being in a cab. And then… um. Not in a cab.”

“Did the taxi drop you off at home?”

“No?” Kara wracks her brain. “I don’t think so. I remember wandering around a park somewhere and realizing I was lost. I know the city so well from above but down here I… get a little turned around sometimes.”

Kara’s cheeks flush at the admission but Lena’s fingers flex around her hand encouragingly and she relaxes.

“Anyway, when I realized I was lost I figured it would be best if I just flew myself home.”

The logic of the moment comes rushing back all at once and Kara feels the tips of her ears go from pink to red to redder. Lena, genius that she is, puts it together rather quickly.

“But you didn’t have your suit.”

“Yeah…” Kara affirms through a dry mouth.

“So you…” Lena begins, encouraging Kara to finish. She’s too embarrassed to even try. After several moments of nothing, Lena rips off the bandaid. “So you undressed to avoid being recognized?”

There’s an inferno blazing somewhere in this room, Kara swears it. She nods, not daring to meet Lena’s eyes.

A minuscule giggle reaches her ears and she breaks.

“I—I didn’t have a choice!” Kara whines. “It was late, I was lost, and my phone was dead and I, I… didn’t know what else to do!”

“Oh dear. Good thing you’re invulnerable.” Lena chuckles. “It's okay, darling.”

“It’s not!” Kara glares over at the TV. “I thought I was being clever. I even folded my shirt and my jeans and hid them in a bush, out of sight and everything! I figured no one would recognize me if I was quick about getting home so I took off but then…”

Lena looks at her expectantly, every bit the generous friend trying to keep her laughter trapped behind her pursed lips.

“Flying felt so good.” Kara admits, contrite. “I’m always wearing that gosh-darned suit with the long sleeves and the tights and just—the warm air felt so nice on my skin. Like the night sky was hugging me hello.”

She’s pouting up a storm now. “I really didn’t expect it. And, well, I guess I was just having a really nice time and my flight home accidentally turned into….” She gestures half-heartedly to the TV. “That.”

“Oh honey.” Lena extends one arm and Kara doesn’t hesitate to dive under it, hiding her face in the comfort of Lena’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright. It’s just a minor PR snafu. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“Alex is gonna be so mad,” Kara grouses, burrowing towards the enticingly familiar scent emanating from Lena’s skin, just a few inches away.

“Perhaps,” Lena allows, rubbing up and down Kara’s arm. It helps soothe the panic that comes with the knowledge of her elder sister’s impending fury. “But you didn’t hurt anyone. And the risk to your identity seems exceedingly low. Who else knows what I gave you for Secret Santa last year?”

Kara thinks back to the holiday, to the warm glow in her apartment and the people she loves gathered to share smiles and stories and gifts. “Just the people that were there that day,” she answers. “Alex, my mom, James, and Winn. And you.”

The memory of Lena glowing alongside her family makes Kara hum happily and nuzzle a little closer. Lena’s arm tightens around Kara’s shoulders.

“And is there any risk of them putting the pieces together from this video?”

“Well, that’s not really a problem,” Kara sighs. “My family has always known. James knew before I even met him because he’s friends with Superman. And Winn is the only other person I’ve ever told.”

She freezes, nervous that the reminder of being kept in the dark might cause Lena to put some distance between them. It’s the last thing Kara wants, to hurt her best friend. Besides, she’d quite like to stay right where she is, a scant inch away from the soft skin of Lena’s collarbone.

“There you have it,” Lena soothes, mercifully unfazed by the news of others that knew before her. “This hiccup should wash away with the next news cycle.” Lena pauses, tenses a bit. “Unless…”

Kara wriggles, prompting her to continue. “Unless what?”

“Have you…” the CEO clears her throat and from this distance Kara can hear her swallow uncomfortably. “Have you shown anyone else?”

“Shown anyone what?”

“This, uh, particular outfit of yours?”

“Pshh, no.” Kara scoffs and shakes her head. The movement brings the cold tip of her nose into contact with the heavenly warmth of Lena’s skin. Kara attributes the slight shiver that runs through her friend’s body to the shock of temperature difference. “Why would I show anyone my underwear?”

When Lena grimaces, the muscles in her neck tighten and Kara instinctively tucks her head closer to smooth the tension away.

“Well,” Lena begins, sounding a bit strangled. Her voice is lower, somewhat shy, and Kara is distracted by the way it vibrates against her forehead when Lena speaks. “If you… perhaps… brought someone home with you.”

“When I invite guests over I don’t include my underwear drawer in the tour of the apartment, Lena. That’s silly.”

“No—that’s not what I—hmph.” Exasperated, Lena finally makes herself clear. “I’m asking if you’ve slept with anyone, Kara.”

The superhero jolts upright, squeaking in surprise. “What?”

Lena clenches her jaw and releases it, taking a fortifying breath. “Have you been intimate with anyone recently that might’ve seen this set of underwear?” Kara gapes like a fish out of water and Lena rolls her eyes as she spells it out, seeming oddly pained. “Could they possibly make the connection between Supergirl’s appearance tonight and your identity as Kara Danvers?”

“Oh,” Kara breathes, struggling to sit still under Lena’s scrutiny. She peels at the fraying edges of her throw pillow. “Um. No.”

“Okay.” It may be Kara’s imagination, but it almost looks like Lena heaves a sigh of relief. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I…” the corner of her mouth twitches. “There hasn’t been anyone. Not since Mon-El.”

Kara considers the nights she’s spent with people she loves instead, the extra time that not having a love interest has afforded her with Lena and feels quite at peace with this reality. She smiles. “So I guess we’re safe on that front.”

Lena smiles back, closed-mouthed but still dimpled, and Kara feels like a lava cake again.

“See? You have nothing to worry about,” the CEO assures.

“Except—can anyone trace the purchase back to you?” Kara asks suddenly. “You said it was a custom order, won’t… won’t people think that you’re Supergirl?!”

Lena bursts into laughter at the suggestion. She howls for seconds while Kara dissolves into a panic at the idea of people going after Lena, mistaking her for the drunk Kryptonian.

“Lena, this is serious,” Kara admonishes. Lena just keeps on laughing. “You could be seriously targeted! I need—I need to protect you. Someone could try to hurt you if they thought…” her wild ideas get the best of her, spiraling out of control at the mere suggestion of increased attempts on Lena’s life.

Kara spaces out, flicking rapidly from scenario to scenario about how best to protect her best friend from this type of exposure. Maybe Lena should move in with her, so Kara can keep her safe all the time. If they share a bed, Kara will know she’s protected even while unconscious. Lena maintains an office at Catco, so the workday is covered. What about bathroom breaks, would those be—

A warm palm smooths over Kara’s forearm and squeezes until her tailspin slows to a halt. “Kara, darling. Come back.”

Kara blinks forcefully once, twice, three times, and then she’s planted firmly in her living room, staring once more at the overwhelming wealth of fondness in light green eyes. Those eyes crinkle around a smile as soon as Kara fully returns to her surroundings.

“You needn’t worry about me,” Lena assures slowly. Kara wrinkles her brow and Lena explains. “I went to a store in person to place the order and made my purchases with cash. The payment isn’t traceable to my name and no one recognized me, I’m certain of it.”

Face pinched into a frown, Kara shakes her head. “Are you sure? I won’t take that risk with you, Lena.”

“I’m sure,” the CEO smiles again and it’s nearly dazzling enough to distract Kara from her panic-fueled worry storm. “I appreciate the concern, but I doubt anyone would believe that a Luthor even knows what a baseball cap is, let alone wears one.” Lena tilts her head thoughtfully. “For that matter, I doubt anyone would believe that a Luthor could secretly be Kryptonian, all things considered.”

Kara scowls at the indirect mention of Lex, but considers Lena’s logic. She’s right in the end—short of a credit card receipt with Lena’s name on it or video footage showing her obtaining the exact same garments Supergirl is wearing, it’d be nigh impossible to make the connection.

“Okay,” she finally relents. “Okay. So now all I have to worry about is Alex’s wrath.”

The thought brings another grimace to her face and she buries it into her throw pillow. Alex is going to be so mad.

“I think Alex will be fine once we talk it through with her,” Lena offers. The ‘we’ wraps around Kara like a blanket before Lena’s arms encircle her with a comfort that Kara’s powerless to resist. She drops the pillow in favor of scooting back into her previous position, nestled into the juncture of Lena’s neck and shoulder.

They sit in silence for a few minutes as Kara recovers from her shame. The lateness of the hour and the steady drum of Lena’s heart lull Kara into a dreamy, half-conscious state and before she’s fully aware of herself she asks, “Lena?”

“Hm?”

The low hum of Lena’s voice in the apartment shrouds Kara in calm and she instinctively adjusts so she can press her nose and mouth the source of that heavenly vibration. Lena gulps and Kara is too sleepy to think anything of it.

“You aren’t mad?”

“Mad?” Lena repeats. “Why?”

“You’re not mad that I didn’t tell you my secret?”

“No, darling, I’m not mad,” Lena mutters softly and places a gentle hand on the side of Kara’s head. “It’s your secret to tell. What matters to me is that you’re safe. That’s all.”

The Kryptonian smiles and snuggles close. “Well, I’m really glad that you know now. And that you still like me. There’s so much I wanna tell you.” She pouts. “No more secrets for us.”

“Of course I still like you.” Then, most miraculous of all, Lena drops a soft kiss to Kara’s forehead. “You’re lovely, Kara. Being Supergirl doesn’t change that.”

Kara hums contentedly and drowsily returns the kiss wherever she can reach. Which happens to be the exposed jut of Lena’s collarbone. She notices a shift immediately—Lena’s muscles sing with tautness and her heart rate skyrockets.

“Lena?”

“Mm?” Her response is slightly high-pitched this time, even if the rumble of it still rolls through Kara like thunder.

“Why is your heartbeat so fast?”

“What—how can you even—oh. Superhearing. Of course.”

“Mhm,” Kara smiles, wondering languidly if Lena can feel her grin even if she can’t see it, ‘cause of the way Kara’s mouth is smooshed against her neck. Lena smells really, really good.

“You smell really, really good.” Again, Lena’s heartbeat ratchets up a notch. Kara frowns.

“Lena, you need to calm down.” Kara speaks right up against the source of the hammering in her ears, feeling the corresponding pulse pound on her lips. “‘S very loud. That can’t be good for you.”

“I’m fine, Kara,” Lena squeaks. Kara has her doubts but forgets them immediately when Lena says, “Besides, I’m with Supergirl. I’m as safe as can be.”

“That’s right.” Kara grins then places another sleepy kiss directly over that drumbeat, aiming to soothe it. “Shhh, i zhao,” Kara murmurs at Lena’s pulse point. “Settle down. You’re safe. It’s sleep time now.”

The next thing she hears after a hitch in Lena’s breath is the rich sound of Lena’s chuckle. “Did you just speak Kryptonian to my heartbeat, Kara?”

“Mm, yeah.” She’s beyond sleepy, half her cognizance has already yielded to unconsciousness. “I can never sleep when it’s loud like that.”

“What do you mean never?”

“I always check on you, Lena,” Kara nuzzles. “If your heartbeat’s too loud, I get worried.”

“You… you listen for me?”

Kara frowns again. Somehow this is only making things louder. Won’t stop her from telling the truth though.

“‘Course I listen. You’re my person,” she declares with a huff and drapes an arm over Lena’s midriff. “I dunno what’s bothering you right now though. You said it yourself, you’re safe with me.”

Lena sucks in a breath and holds it. Kara knows because she can feel the rise of Lena’s chest under her cheek and the way Lena’s throat works beneath her mouth. Kara noses against her neck, willing Lena to keep breathing and relax. Eventually she does.

Lena’s sigh comes out slow and measured and finally, her heartbeat begins to slow. She leans her head overtop of Kara’s. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Mhm,” Kara agrees. “Quiet now though, ‘s time for bed.” Lena nods above her and Kara doesn’t even deign to consider that they’re both still half upright on the couch. She does, however, remember a passing comment from earlier in the night.

“Lena?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you tell me your secret, too?”

In the ensuing pause, Kara hears the slowing beat do a stutter step in Lena’s chest. She nuzzles into it and Lena sighs once more.

Then Kara feels the warmth of lips pressed to her temple and suddenly her own heart is mirroring the pattern of Lena’s, clamoring for more of that soft sweetness against her skin.

“I think you might already know,” Lena whispers into her hair.

With the scent of Lena in her lungs and the softness of her friend in her arms and around her, Kara thinks she does, too.

(Morning finds them in the same position hours later, curled against one another on the couch. Necks stiff and backs crooked, they startle awake to a pounding on the door and an unmistakably familiar grumbling on the other side.

“Kara, you’d better be in there! What the fuck happened last night?!”)

#silly little ficlet #crack fic #i am not planning on doing the full month #i just found this in my drafts and it had the prompt so here we are #take all the potential angst and pretend it doesn’t exist #supercorp #supercorptober2023 #ficlet

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radiant-reid · 1 year

Text

In The Dark

Summary: After a few months without contact, Reader assumes Spencer has ghosted her and she's shocked when he has the nerve to turn up.

based on the request: would you write something about spencer going to prison and being in a relationship for a few months, so the team doesn't know about her and no one tells her about him, so she thinks he just ghosted her and is really sad :( but someway she finds out?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst)

Content Warning: prison arch and mention of Spencer's SA and drugging

Word Count: 4.0k

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Spencer Reid is a great boyfriend. For someone with such little experience, he's mastered date planning, check-in phone calls, and romantic words. It's not a surprise when he's good at everything he tries, but it's impressive and incredibly appreciated by his girlfriend, Y/n.

He gets back into DC late from a case, something about an UnSub murdering people he sees as a threat to his soon-to-be ex-husband in the hopes of rekindling their relationship. It was sad and tragic but nothing exceedingly troubling. After more than a decade on the job, Spencer had seen just how powerful a motivator jealousy could be.

Adding to his stress, Y/n knew he was still struggling with looking after his mom, not as much as before, but it was still stressful. So she was a little surprised when Spencer called, wondering if she was free that night to go out. She tries to keep her calendar flexible when working around Spencer's unpredictable schedule, and she quickly agrees to spend some time with him before he gets whisked away on his next case.

Spencer's never late, but he knows to knock on the door no sooner than five minutes early to avoid Y/n worrying about not being ready if he arrives early.

Every time he sees her, especially after he's not seen her for a while, Spencer can't believe how he got so lucky to be with someone so beautiful.

"Hi." He says softly, trying to remember to function despite being totally blown away by her. "You look gorgeous."

Y/n gives him a little twirl in the new red dress she knew would be perfect for a date night. "Thank you. I missed you." She replies, not letting him get past the entryway of her apartment before wrapping him in a tight hug.

"I missed you too," Spencer says, resting his head on hers. He didn't know what it was like to miss someone until he met her, to think about someone fondly and wish you could see them. That was a first Spencer had never experienced before her. He still hates the longing to see her, but he loves that he has someone to miss.

There's not a feeling like being in Spencer's arms. It's safe and warm, and she loved it from their first hug.

When she pulls back, Y/n smiles up at him. "Also, you look very handsome." She tells him before leaning in to kiss him softly.

Spencer always grins like an idiot about having someone to kiss casually. There's no other feeling like it.

"Should we go?" She asks, her tone just slightly teasing at the spaced-out look on Spencer's face.

He snaps back into it. "R-right, uh, yes, yeah, let's go." His actions are more decisive than his words, and he steps aside to let her into the corridor before him.

"So, where are we off to?" Y/n asks curiously on the way to the elevator, hand-in-hand with Spencer.

With the hand not holding hers, he reaches into his suit jacket pocket and produces two ticket stubs. "The theatre."

Her eyes light up with delight as she takes the tickets to confirm they're real. "How did you- these were sold out?" She's as puzzled as she is excited.

"I know people," Spencer says mysteriously, making her giggle and playfully nudge his arm.

"Thank you." She says, voice overflowing with gratitude. She had mentioned how much she wanted to go, but she couldn't find tickets, and somehow, Spencer found some. Things like that make him the best boyfriend.

He proves he's better than other boyfriends by opening her door when they get to the car, and even drives, although he doesn't like it.

They arrive at the Kennedy Centre with enough time to get food and drinks before the show, and Y/n's even more impressed by his feat of getting tickets when she realizes just what good seats they are.

Despite being shy to touch her at the start of their relationship, Spencer has quickly warmed up, and his hands don't leave her the whole night, holding hers or resting on her thigh or his arm wrapping around her shoulder.

After the show, they walk down the street to a restaurant for dinner when Spencer offhandedly mentions an idea. "We should go to the real thing." He says dreamily.

"Like, in Paris?" Y/n replies with a frown. It's a very forward proposal to get from a boyfriend of two and a half months, who she's only been out with on seven dates and never slept in the same bed as.

Spencer quickly shakes his head when he realizes the implication of what he's just said. Of course, it's in his future plan to take her to the City of Love- even to see the entire world if she wants that. But telling her so soon would be coming on too strong, potentially scaring her off, and he does not want to do that.

He chuckles awkwardly, clearing his throat. "No, uh, I just meant to New York to see it on Broadway."

Technically, it's only a three-hour train ride, which isn't a huge commitment, but the show would end late, so they'd probably have to spend the night in the city together..., and she should stop fantasizing so much about something he's only suggesting.

She settles on a more laid-back answer. "Yeah, we should. I'd really like that."

Spencer makes a promise to himself right there as they walk down a street of DC on the way to dinner. He'll take her to New York City and then Paris one day.

He only gets the confidence to speak the latter thought that night. They're lying in bed together after Spencer once again has proved he's good at things he says he doesn't have much practice at.

"We're going to go to Paris." He vows, holding out his pinky to lock with hers.

Y/n frowns. "Right now? I'm too comfortable here." It's so cozy under her covers, and she feels safe beside him, resting on his bare chest for the first time.

He shakes his head, messier curls dancing on his forehead. "No, I mean just at some point in the future. You know, eventually." He explains before waggling his pinky finger. "Now, promise me."

She snorts with laughter but locks her pinky around his. "I guess we're going to Paris together."

He's about to add something, but his phone ringing on the side table stops him. Spencer can guess who it is, but he knows that she doesn't know he has a BAU-specific ringtone and that that wasn't it. He avoids showing her the screen, taking advantage of her focus on her fingers drawing patterns on his skin.

Y/n notices how he stiffens once he reads the message. "Do you have to go?" She asks softly, purposefully making herself not sound upset. She's not, but sleeping alone won't be as easy as it was about to be when she assumed he was staying the night over.

"I'm sorry." Spencer quickly apologizes, but not for needing to go, just for lying.

She shakes her head quickly, leaning up to kiss him softly. "Don't be." She assures him before moving off him so he can get out of bed and leave. Spencer slips out of the covers, collecting his clothes from the floor and awkwardly- but adorably- clumsily redressing. "Where are you off to?"

"Houston."

Brownsville, then Matamoros, Mexico.

He hates himself for lying to her. He hates himself for lying to the team too. He hates himself in general recently. Lies always snowball. He's only lied by omission to her before, simply saying he was out of town when she asked rather than admitting he was in another country.

When he's finished redressing, he stands awkwardly by her doorframe. He wants to kiss her goodbye but doesn't think he's worthy of affection.

Like he knew she would, Y/n ushers him over. "You have to kiss me before you go." She reminds him with an innocent giggle.

"Right, sorry." Spencer apologizes, making his way across the room to her and resting his hand on the mattress to lean over and capture her lips in a soft kiss.

She pulls back with a smile. "Be safe."

He nods. What he's doing, although technically not illegal, is definitely not safe. For a moment, he thinks about telling Y/n. It would be easy to blurt out what he's actually going to do, but he's not about to dump all of his problems on his new girlfriend. She's too precious and innocent to be involved in his mess.

"I will." He promises. He needs to be for her and for Paris. "I'll call you when I'm back. It shouldn't be more than a few days. Then we can plan New York." He promises as he moves away from her towards the door.

She grins broadly, nodding eagerly. "Okay. I'll look forward to that."

He will too. In fact, dreaming about their future plans is where he'll go in his head as his happy place.

To say Mexico didn't go as planned would be a drastic understatement.

The plan was not to get high, enter a car chase with the police with cocaine in the trunk, and ultimately get arrested.

And there are no words to describe even a tiny fraction of Spencer's despair as he comes down from the awful mix of cocaine and heroin and realizes what's happening. Y/n's on his mind when he starts coming down, but there's so much else happening around him while Emily tries to save him from ending up in a deadly Mexican prison.

Thankfully, his face is so pale, and he looks so ruined that no one notices the dread set in when he's on the jet back to the US, and he finally focuses on his girlfriend. It's a moral dilemma that he doesn't have the morals or energy to work through.

Don't get the team to tell her, and Y/n will believe he doesn't want to be in a relationship with her but is too cowardly to say.

Or get the team to tell her, and she'll be forced into his mess.

He chooses not to tell anyone he's in a serious relationship and holds onto hope that the team can quickly prove his innocence or that he'll get bail and be able to do it himself. He knows JJ, Penelope, or Emily would be delicate, but it's jaw-dropping news, and he needs to be there to beg her to stay if- when, in his mind- she decides she doesn't want to be with a suspected murderer.

At his arraignment, she's who he's thinking about when he gets hauled away, having not been granted bail. He can't make his mind up between speaking up about her and the existence of their relationship or not, and as time goes on, it seems easier not to.

Y/n's not worried the first night he's away, and she doesn't get a text. They're still getting into a routine, and she knows his job often doesn't allow for breaks. On the second day, a missing child's case hits the news, and she figures, although not explicitly stated, that possibly that's what Spencer and his team are working on.

Once it's announced that they found the little girl, Y/n's concern amplifies. It's the longest there's been no contact between them. All her phone calls go straight to his voicemail, and her messages only send as texts.

It's inconceivable that he would purposefully not contact her, so she repeatedly puts his name into Google, knowing it would be published if he were injured or, even more heartbreaking, killed. Something like that would probably make a martyr of him, but it would be an explanation for his disappearance.

Nothing.

There are a few articles on notable cases he's worked on and his remarkable intellectual achievements, but they're all from much earlier.

So it's logical that he's alive and unwilling, rather than unable, to speak to her.

And eventually, she accepts that she got ghosted. The person she thought was the most honorable she'd ever met left and never explained it.

It's heartbreaking, each unreturned message and call piercing her heart and crushing her spirit. Everything about Spencer seemed so perfect. He treated her like glass, delicate and beautiful. He was gentle with her feelings and his words. He never pushed too hard or didn't care enough.

Spencer was everything she wanted, and she had him.

And then he was gone.

She wishes she could be more angry. Of course, she's furious at the abruptness, at Spencer leading her on and possibly treating her so well she won't be able to accept less in the future. She's angry that she looks like an idiot, played perfectly by someone who's probably laughing about it to his friends. And she doesn't even know any of his friends! That's how blinding his affection was.

But she's hurt, heartbroken. What about her is so unloveable that Spencer couldn't stay? And, on top of that, what makes her so unworthy of an explanation? It's worse than a breakup in that way, no answers to the questions plaguing her mind. Doubt and insecurity plague her mind every day. The weight of her sadness felt suffocating. Y/n tried to occupy her mind, but the memories lingered and taunted her. Then there were the inquiries from everyone around her about how her relationship was progressing, everyone who had seen her overjoyed just days before.

She took a weekend to cry about it, to mourn the loss of something good with a promising future.

But, even more than two months after their last contact, it's still difficult to think about. Spencer's absence is found every day in her life. He's not an easy person to forget.

It feels like hundreds of times she's typed out text messages to him, ranging from begging him to reconsider their relationship to demanding answers about why he left without a word. Then it dawns on her that maybe it's not even still his phone. Maybe Spencer does the whole dating thing with lots of different girls to get off, and he has a burner SIM for each of them, and he's thrown hers out.

Still, she has to send that last text message. A final conclusion, two months after the "Please just let me know you're okay" text message that Spencer didn't return. It got sent with trembling hands and a heavy heart, but the final one wasn't. It's impersonal. Structured formal language, blocked out her feelings, and commanded he never contacts her again.

So, the last thing she expects at 7 pm on a random Tuesday night is Spencer to be at her door.

Spencer with, through her view from the peephole, a blonde woman. So this is probably his wife, and now she's about to get accused of being the other woman and sleeping with a married man.

Y/n only opens the door for the chance of seeing him getting slapped by her or slapping him herself.

His eyes soften as hers fill with tears. It hasn't even been that long, but Spencer looks different. He actually looks like shit, totally worn down with his messy curls, deep bags under his eyes, and unshaven facial hair, and she's unsympathetic to it. She felt like that, so he deserves to look like it. Spitefully, she might be enjoying it.

"You good?" The blonde next to him asks, but her eyes aren't judging, just concerned.

So she's probably not a wife, but he has no right to bring an emotional support person to a confession about being a complete dick to her.

Spencer barely glances in her direction as he nods. She hastily exits down the hall while Y/n stares him down.

"I don't want to speak to you." She informs him sternly, shaking her head to avoid tears falling. She's not going to let her walls crumble for him. That was a lamentable mistake and a pitiless lesson.

When she goes to slam the door, Spencer puts his hand in it. He's an asshole, but she won't go as far as to break his fingers.

"Please." He begs, voice grave. "Please hear me out."

Y/n scoffs, dramatically rolling her eyes. It's a facade for how destroyed she is internally. "Why? Why should I?" Unfortunately, she couldn't turn off her caring like he could turn off his attachment.

"I promise I can explain." He assures her.

Her patience is gone in an instant, and she snaps. "Explain!?" She balks. "You can explain why you've been ghosting me for two and a half months? Why you lead me on with these fantasized plans of us going on vacation together only to not speak to me again? Well, that sounds delightful."

Spencer had anticipated the hostility he's met with. "Can we talk inside?" He offers calmly. His fuse is shorter after prison, but he needs to set this right. There's not an ulterior motive. All he wants is for her to know the truth, even if she never speaks to him again.

"Sure." She voices, stepping out of the way to let him in.

It chills her to think that the last time he was here, they were making gentle love and vows.

"Was it all just a ploy to fuck me?" She spits out.

That was the deep insecurity she had about the situation. It couldn't have been a coincidence that, proceeding their first night, he wouldn't return a call.

She continues, voicing all the built-up feelings that are finally exploding. Her emotions are like a pressure cooker with a strong need for release. "Because that's so fucking low. I trusted you! I let you in, and you were such a coward you couldn't tell me you finished with me."

The cracks show. Spencer can hear the pain in her voice and see the tears she's fighting. He wants to reach out and hug her- he needs to. It's what he's been thinking about for so long, but he can't, not yet.

"I was in prison." He says calmly. There are so many ways he's played this out, but in the moment, it came out simply.

"Fuck off." She says, not at all believing a word. An easier lie to sell would be that his mom died or his phone got stolen. Neither are good excuses, but they're much more likely.

Spencer shakes his head. "I'm not lying, I promise." His voice is so profound that it's hard not to believe him.

But he could easily be a psychopath, doing this for more sadistic pleasure.

"Why should I believe you?" Her arms cross over her chest defensively.

"Because I am crazy about you." Her heart stops, and those butterflies are impossible to suppress. They're second nature when she's around him. "I would never jeopardize that on purpose." He swears, but he can tell she needs more. "You are lovely, everything I could ever want in a partner and more. Your kindness is like nothing else I've ever experienced, and I'll always be grateful I met you."

The self-preservation instincts in her brain are screaming at her, warning bells going off. "I need to hear the rest of your explanation." She says strictly.

"Can we sit?" He asks, nodding at the couch. "It's a long story."

Hesitantly, she agrees. She needs to guard herself, but she needs answers just as badly.

So Spencer recounts it. From why he was in Mexico, what substances he was getting for his mom, the other times lies about his whereabouts, the cocaine and heroin forced into him, his hallucination about having sex with her in the motel room, the car chase, the arrest, the cocaine in the trunk, coming off the drugs, the holding cell in Mexico, his team turning up, the times they had to repeat what had happened because of how high he was, the childhood flashbacks, the eleventh-hour transfer to the American authorities, the realization of his situation, the arraignment, the horrible verdict, prison without protective custody, the beatings, his friend dying, the fear, feeling like it was forever, all the interviews and meetings with his lawyer, the unlikely savor on the inside, finally getting out and having his name cleared, and the somehow more stressful ending.

By the end, he's crying, not trying to wipe away the soft tears falling down his cheeks. Y/n hasn't realized she has started to cry, but she can't stop it.

"I'm so sorry." She apologizes, but it's primarily for the internal resentment she's harboring for him and all the hateful things she said about him in her head.

"It's okay," Spencer promises. His guilt is overwhelming already, but it's going to increase tenfold if she's remorseful about it. "You didn't know."

"But I sure as hell didn't give you the reasonable doubt." She adds in.

He shakes his head. "I haven't spoken to you in almost three months, Y/n." He speaks softly, still weeping. "The logical conclusion to draw is that I left you on purpose. I can't imagine how much I've hurt you, and I'm so sorry for it."

"I know it's not your fault." She says, before tacking on, "Now."

He's so grateful she just gave him a chance to explain. He's hopeful it will bring her peace, but there isn't a doubt it will do that for him.

He stands up awkwardly. "Thank you for hearing me out... and for the best few months of my life. It's truly been a pleasure."

"Wait." She pleads softly, making him spin around quickly. "You're leaving?"

"Do you need something?" Spencer asks. He'll do anything she wants in a heartbeat, hoping it will ease some of the misery she's been in.

Y/n bites her bottom lip, thinking through what she's about to ask, but she knows she has to go with her heart and gut. Spencer is Spencer, and she'll never be able to convince herself that he's hurt her on purpose.

"You." She admits.

Spencer's heart gets crushed in an instant. She knows about it now, but there's no way she can fully understand the changes, so he'll have to let her down again and break both their hearts, hearts that long for each other.

"Y/n..." He trails off. "I'm not who I used to be."

She shakes her head. "I don't care." Her confession is nonchalant. It's a quick decision, but it feels right. "Please don't leave again."

"I've been in federal prison." He reminds her.

She gulps, feeling the full power of his rejection. It's a much more Spencer way to do it, letting her down gently. "Mm-hmm." She mumbles. "Okay, I understand." She gets up to show him out, and it feels like the weight he's relieved has been piled back on. "If you ever want to be with me again... you know where to find me." She knows it sounds pathetic, but she needs to say it.

If he ever wants her. There's nothing more than Spencer wants. "Y/n." He coos softly. His hands come to cup her cheeks, relishing touching her skin and being close to her again. It's a natural desire to kiss her, but he stops himself from doing it a few inches away from her lips.

"Don't." She begs in a whisper, more tears clouding her vision. "Not if you're not going to stay."

"I want to." He promises. "But I'm different."

Y/n shakes her head in his hands. "Not inside. You might have more walls, but your heart will always be good."

So he doesn't let himself self-sabotage. When he kisses Y/n, it feels like everything is right in the world again. It's what he's been dreaming about for as long as they've been apart. It's fireworks and butterflies and every cliche possible, but there's a reason those cliches get repeated: they're true.

Spencer pulls back once he's kissed her until they've both run out of air. He's crying as much as he's smiling. "We're okay?" He double-checks.

"You're going to be," Y/n promises. "And that means we're going to be."

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amateurasterism · 1 year

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how you met him !

synopsis ; how strangers to lovers unfolds between you and the seventeen members.

pairing ; seventeen x gn!reader

notes ; fluff, strangers to lovers. tysm for all the love on the jeonghan fic!!<3 i may make some of these scenarios into actual fics idk

word count ; 2.7k (about 150-250 per member. i got kind of carried away for some lol)

choi seungcheol

getting stood up on a date was already bad enough, let alone the fact it was pouring rain and your dumbass didn’t think to bring an umbrella. you’re stranded three hours from home, soaking wet in front of the restaurant you just got stood up at when suddenly a car pulls up. the guy in the drivers seat is cute, so when he says his name is seungcheol and offers you a ride home, you can’t help but say yes and hop into the passengers seat, hoping he wasn’t some kind of kidnapper. luckily, he wasn’t, and drives you home safe. you figure the least you can do in payment of his soaked car is invite him over for dinner. sadly he has to leave after your impromptu date (that definitely made up for earlier), full of rosy cheeks and flirts, so you linger in your entryway and realize he forgot his coat that he lent you in the rain. hanging it up in a closet, you notice there’s a note in the pocket with his number on it, because of course you forgot to ask.

you’re a mess, ten minutes late for your daily cafe run before work. when you finally make it, beyond glad that you’re able to have your usual latte and croissant to fix your messy morning, you find a man standing at the register, about to buy the last of your usual croissant. panic spreads through your system as you see the cashier giving him the paper bag with the last croissant in it, running towards the man and explaining to him how it was your usual and you couldn’t function without it. you note his cup of coffee in his hand, jeonghan written on the side in sharpie. staring at you with the barest glint of mischief in his eyes, jeonghan buys it right in front of you with a mocking slide of his card through the card reader, only for him to then sit down at the closest table and beckon you over to sit at the chair across from him, the pastry already waiting for you at your offered seat.

joshua hong

mother’s day is just around the corner, which means joshua is getting flowers for his mom. this is his first time being back home for mothers day, so he will admit that walking into your florist shop has him a bit overwhelmed. of course you notice the cute guy who happened to stumble into your shop during the slower hours of the day, meaning it’s just you and him. you’ve been watching, a small smile on your face as he stares at the flowers draping the walls the shelves, occasionally touching one and taking a photo. he’s been at it for nearly ten minutes now, so you decide to help him, assuming the flowers are for his girlfriend and indirectly calling him cute (“i’m sure your girlfriend will appreciate anything, i mean, how could she not appreciate someone like you?”) he’s so quick to tells you the flowers are for his mom that you almost suspect it’s panic laid in his voice. at the end of the day, joshua ends up spending a lot of extra time at your florist shop as he stalled, just wanting to hear you talk about your passion for flowers. when he finally has to leave, he buys an extra bouquet of your favorite flowers and hands it to you with a note hidden inside one of the petals.

wen junhui

today, you finally get to meet your co-star on the new romance drama you would be starring in. you decided to refrain from looking at his socials to give yourself a surprise, because why not? needless to say, you’re excited to see him, nearly bouncing on the couch of the meeting room. you find that you immediately regret decision when wen junhui walks through the doors because, fuck, you did not expect him to look like that. as if seeing him just standing there wasn’t enough to give you a heart attack, the universe decided to toy with you a little more. surely enough, you were not the slightest bit mentally prepared for the moment he walked to up to you and gave you the shyest, cutest, and somehow also hottest smile you’d ever seen. it did not help that his blonde bangs, perfectly outgrown to fall over his cheeks and tickle his neck and ears where you could see him turning pink. any words you could’ve thought to say dissolved on your tongue, and all you can manage to muster is “hi…” he lets out a chuckle that sounds better than your favorite song that makes you beam, and that pink tint you swear you’re imagining paints his cheeks even more. if only you knew his mutual panic, his mind scrambling on how to look cool but having the hardest time because how was he supposed to think straight when you were looking up at him with the most star struck look he’d ever seen. by the end of your months filming, the “i love yous” exchanged between your characters needed no acting behind them.

kwon soonyoung

you’re filling in your free time by making money as a seat filler at award shows around south korea. your third gig is a kpop music awards show, which means you’re lucky enough to be paid to see talented groups perform and see idols receive awards live. currently, the lights on the stage are flashing bright hues of red and yellow as seventeen performs “hot”. to you, it was just another performance to watch until your eyes drift to a certain man who took center in the middle of the song and caught your attention since. you’re quick to notice how sharp yet fluid his dancing is, and for some reason you feel like you could watch him do it for hours. needless to say, you’re disappointed when seventeen wraps up their performance and disappears backstage. that is, until the thirteen empty seats next to you are suddenly filled five minutes later. you have the urge to pinch yourself in disbelief when the seat right next to you is filled by no other than the same cute guy you’d been eyeing during their performance. you look at his name tag that reads hoshi and debate on whether or not it would be awkward to strike conversation by congratulating him on his performance. but he makes the decision for you, and you wind up talking so much that you can’t help but feel a proud when seventeen wins the next award, and when he says his speech on the stage, he’s looking at you more than the actual award.

jeon wonwoo

wonwoo and y/n. the biggest streamers on twitch, known to be side by side at the top of every leaderboard. the internet has a small theory that you two are definitely dating, but in truth, you two have never even seen one of each others streams before. when you are brought up for the fifth time in one of his streams, wonwoo finally gets curious enough to click on your channel after closing his stream. he might be going insane, but his heart definitely skipped a beat when he sees your little facecam at the top left corner of your latest stream. suddenly, he finds himself scrolling through all your social media accounts, something he’s never done to anyone before. let’s just say he’s a little more than excited when a message from you pops up on his screen, “so, when are we going to make those rumors true?”

lee jihoon

going on a walk is jihoon’s favorite thing for getting lyrical inspiration, and today was no different. however, today he was having a particularly hard time gathering any words on his notes. that was until he suddenly heard a guitar in the distance. following the sounds, which he swears is one of the best melodies he’s heard, he stumbles across you sitting on a park bench strumming your guitar. there’s no tip hat laying around, meaning you’re not doing it for music, rather just for yourself. jihoon looks at you for a long while, a bit lost at the sight of you, then suddenly all those lost lyrics come running to the tip of his tongue, rushing to get out. there’s too much for his fingers and notes app to handle. you stop playing, and look up at him with a smile, beckoning him over and teasing him for staring. “i can see you staring, you know.”

lee dokyeom

dokyeom wishes he could have a dog. so bad. but because of his idol life, he finds it unattainable. and he knows better than to adopt a dog that deserves better living conditions then that of his busy schedule. so to fill that empty gap, he visits the dog park every once in a while. today, he is instantly greeted by a dog running off its owner’s hand with its leash tagging behind it as it tangles itself all over him with a heap of excited jumps and licks. dokyeom is all the more happy to greet the dog with the same energy, petting its excited body. soon you, the owner, come running to him with apologies on behalf of your dog. even though he doesn’t really mind, you insist on helping him untangle himself. somewhere along the way the tension shifts and you turn your neck slightly to your faces are a little too close. suddenly, despite just meeting you, all dokyeom can think about is a life like this. you, him, and your dog.

kim mingyu

mingyu has a talent for photography, and all his friends know that. when your camera broke, a scheming jeon wonwoo, your close friend, tells you that his best friend mingyu can help you out. you and mingyu are a bit skeptical when wonwoo sets you up in mingyu’s living room and ditches right after (“sorry, i forgot i have a date today.” since when did wonwoo, a lazy twitch streamer who hasn’t touched grass in a year, have a girlfriend? you wonder), but when you walk in with your broken camera, mingyu’s worries disappear. kicking him out of the fantasies that popped into his head when he first saw you, you head streat to work and show him your broken camera. he figures out that he has to look through some of your previous photos to get to the root of the problem. by some magic, he stumbles across a photo of you—which by the way was gorgeous and might’ve made him swoon for a bit—and finds himself in the background. he’s confused as to why you choke on your glass of water when he points it out with a smile, but little does he know that you’ve been looking for him, the cute guy in the background of your photo, for quite some time. no wonder he looked familiar.

xu minghao

minghao tells his friends that he goes to the same cafe every morning simply because “their food is good!” but only he really knows it’s because of you, the pretty cashier. he refuses to actually talk to you though (out of nerves), and opts for drawing you in his notebook everyday. he’s content with that, because for some reason he finds that he could spend hours just watching you and perfecting every feature on your face onto the rough pages of his beloved sketchbook. today though, he decides it’s time to make a move. it starts off as a normal morning; he’s drawing a portrait of you that he plans to leave on the table with a note when he leaves. what he doesn’t notice is that from the counter, you’ve taken note of your crush’s recurring glances from the seat at the front windows. he’s so immersed in making your portrait that is isn’t until the next time he looks up that he realizes you’re missing. he panics for a second, thinking his plan all when down in shambles, until he turns around and sees you looking over his shoulder at the portrait, the biggest and prettiest smile on your lips as you tease him, ignoring the butterflies in your chest that emerge when you see how spot on and gorgeous the portrait is. is that pretty girl in the portrait really how he sees you?

boo seungkwan

the day you decide to go on a solo karaoke date with yourself is coincidentally the same day the karaoke bar is absolutely booked. so much so that you aren’t able to get your own booth, but are offered to share one with another person. boo seungkwan, the sign up sheet says. you accept, figuring it can’t be that bad, and fortunately you happen to be right. you step into the booth and are surprised to see a cute guy singing his heart out to “love dive” by ive. he’s even jumping a little and moving his hands along to the choreography; you can tell he knows it by heart. it’s endearing to stand and watch him having the time of his life, microphone chord slamming against the marble floor. a laugh you can’t suppress averts his attention from you to the screen, his face going pink at the sight of you. in the same moment, the tv displays his score as a whopping 48 which makes the two of you burst into laughter. he blames it on not being able to pronounce the english lines, and eases you into the booth by inviting you to a duet to boost his score. somehow, his funny facade from earlier has faded, and his vocal talent comes to shine in the love song you sing together. the lyrics feel a bit too real when you make eye contact during the song that lasts a little more than it should, and neither of you are truly surprised when the final score is 100.

vernon chwe

vernon is back in new york, and is admittedly a bit lost. listen, it’s been a while. he’ll admit he got a bit too confident, reassuring his friends he didn’t need a ride home, but halfway through the walk he wound up in a street he doesn’t recall and has no idea which way to go. it doesn’t help that his phone is dead. but by some twist of fate, vernon turns a corner and slams into someone else. truthfully, it’s your fault, because you’re glued to your phone, too confident in yourself to really be paying attention because you had grown up in new york and the walk home was basically instinct for your legs at this point. both of you are profusely apologizing to each other, checking upon each other if you were both alright. luckily, nothing was ruined in the collision. except, maybe vernon’s ability to focus, because upon seeing you, every concern he had five seconds ago had vanished. you can see the lost expression in his eyes, and are more than willing to help this attractive guy to find his way back home. and maybe even tag along for dinner at his house too, as a thank you and possibly also because vernon decided that the thirty minutes you spent together looking for his house wasn’t enough for him. in fact, he decided that night that only forever would be enough between him and you.

lee chan

you’ve just debuted as a background dancer for hybe, and your first gig is for seventeen in their upcoming awards performances. due to your recent recruit and a complication between background dancers, the performances are tomorrow and you’ve only been able to start practicing today. you’re an incredible dancer, which everyone in the practice room picked up the moment you started dancing, but you can’t pick up the last part of the choreography from your lack of practice and its level of difficulty. the practice just ended, jun, and soonyoung being the last ones to leave. they look at you and the only other person in the room as if to ask if you were leaving, but he just shakes his head. the two leave, leaving you and the guy you recognize as chan, alone. he approaches you and offers to teach you the part he’s noticed you can’t get a hang of, because of course he’d been staring at you since the moment you walked in. the moment you start practicing together, in the solitude of the empty practice room, the time goes by faster than ever and suddenly learning this part of the dance doesn’t seem so difficult anymore. especially when your private tutor was cute and was looking at you like that through the mirror.

one reblog = one stranger in your life that’ll turn into a lover

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vampyrsm · 8 months

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‣‣ COR UNUM: CHAPTER SIX | KUEBIKO

‣‣ Synopsis: Our tale continues into the mountains where the darkest of souls reside, and here is where you will find a once in the life time opportunity. Will you take it or will you wilt beneath the crushing palm of the man who controls your life?

‣‣ Main Masterlist | AO3 ‣‣ Pairing: Sukuna x Reader ‣‣ Word Count: est. 6.5k ‣‣ Warnings: Blank blogs & Minors DNI. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Set in the Early-Heian Period, trueform!Sukuna, dead bodies, descriptions of wounds, threats of violence/death, female reader, brief description of ritual suicide.

“Leave.” Sukuna doesn’t spare the unknown woman a second glance after his command, instead, he glares directly at you. Clearly whatever the woman had realised whilst looking at you had angered Sukuna in some way.

The raven-haired woman smiles knowingly in your direction, her eyes wide with mirth. Her hands remain hidden with the long sleeves of her kimono, and even then when she’s posing no physical threat to you – you can’t help but feel like you’re staring directly at death itself.

“Of course.” She nods her head a little, moving to step past you before she stops directly at your side. You freeze at the proximity, the aura that follows her is suffocating. It’s different from Sukuna’s, whereas he is all-encompassing with regality and brutality, this woman makes you feel like an ant beneath her foot. You were beneath her.

“I do hope we’ll get to speak soon. Alone.” Her voice is far too close to your ear, a hushed whisper that laps at the shell of your ear until you shiver. “I’d love to know what’s inside that head of yours.”

“Kenjaku.” Sukuna’s voice is a foreboding warning, his eyes now snapped onto the long-haired woman who smiles with ease over her shoulder. This time she doesn’t say anything in retort, simply smiles before leaving the throne room entirely.

One threatening aura is immediately replaced with another. Sukuna. He’s still glaring at you with a far-from-impressed expression resting on his face. Slowly, his eyes scan down along your body as if he’s taking in the true state of your attire and general hygiene after a week or so of riding.

“Follow.” Another order, and you follow as soon as he starts walking. He walks away from the door you had entered in and towards the left, you hadn’t noticed that there were multiple entryways into the room. Though the door you pass through is much smaller than the grand wooden doors, they’re less imposing.

He leads you through the corridors once again, his footsteps are like distant claps of thunder with how heavy each step is. You pass by an open courtyard, enclosed by the walls of the temple and opened to the elements from above. The snow that falls is an intense tempest of white snowflakes, each of them gathering in the loose gravel of the courtyard and freezing over what were once functioning bamboo water spouts.

On the opposite end of the courtyard, you spy a seat. Behind that seat is a large wooden symbol that’s painted in a similar red to Sukuna’s eyes. It’s a single word; 解. Dismantle. You had heard often of Lordships that would have grand courtyards like this, with seats overseeing it whenever they had to deal with a request made by Samurai.

You had seen it once when you were still living with your father. You had only been fourteen years old at the time and he had you sitting next to his large seat. He told you that if you wanted to be a Samurai then you would see what it means to be a true Samurai.

The courtyard was filled with his own Samurai, all belonging to the Shogun and each of them were also kneeling just as you were. Your father had neglected to tell you what the occasion would be to gather in such a place like this. In the centre of the yard, there was a simple bamboo mat with a man kneeling on it.

In front of him laid his katana and wakizashi; a smaller version of the katana. You recall faintly the words the man had spoken to your father, he wanted to be blessed with the highest honour by dying in front of the Shogun. Samurai often did this when they had disgraced their clan or were set up for execution.

Your father being the man he was, had allowed this. You could only watch in silent horror as the man stripped the top half of his yukata, and with one hand slid along his stomach until he found the spot just beneath his ribcage. The slick stabbing sound of the wakizashi was nothing compared to what came next, the man whilst sweating and grunting in pain had gripped his blade tighter before sliding it smoothly along his stomach.

No one had blinked an eye when the man disembowelled himself. The words your father had spoken to you when he saw the expression on your face were harsh. “You will fall to a similar fate if you dare disgrace this family.”

“Oi.” Sukuna’s voice causes you to blink away the blurry image of your father, you hadn’t realised you stopped to stare blankly out at the snow-covered courtyard. Another blink and the vision of the man fades from your mind, you hadn’t thought of that day in a very long time.

You turn to face Sukuna, to continue on the path he was taking you on but you have to take a step back lest you walk head-first into his chest. He’s staring down at you, down the smoothness of his nose with a light frown. His eyes are bouncing back and forth between your own, trying to decipher just what had been going on through your mind.

When his search turns out to be useless, he simply sighs heavily through his nose before a large hand wraps itself around your wrist. You’re tugged harshly alongside him, and it’s very similar to the situation when he dragged you out of the previous shrine to safety. Your feet struggle to keep up, slipping against the smooth wooden floorboards and tripping when you have to step over a threshold.

Sukuna didn’t stop nor did he give you a second glance as you struggled.

The chill of the outside once again bites at your exposed flesh, and you find yourself being dragged into another courtyard within the temple. This one wasn’t nearly as large as the one you had previously seen, this one was much more personal. You figured out why when you saw the steam rising in curls from the hot spring in the centre.

“Bathe,” Sukuna says as he releases your arm, part of you wants to snap your teeth in his direction for the commands he keeps barking at you like you were some lowly dog. “I have something to attend to first.”

You don’t have the chance to ask him if he means he’ll be returning soon, Sukuna has already vanished back into the temple leaving you in the blistering cold with nothing but the wind to accompany your thoughts. Looking back at the hot spring, you don’t feel nearly as apprehensive as you once had when you first were forced into one of them.

The ride here had been long and dreadful, you had mud in places you didn’t know mud could reach and the dried blood beneath your nails had started to hurt from just how much there was. You weren’t going to lose the chance to bathe, especially in a spring as warm as this when the snow continued to fall heavily atop your head.

Stripping the sullied kimono, you were quick to submerge yourself into the water. It was deep, just like the other one, and lapped harshly against your neck when you dunked yourself low enough to soak completely. It felt good, the aches in your thighs and hips slowly ebb away with the warmth of the water continuing to caress your body until you relaxed.

You found yourself looking up at the night sky once again, the sun was just starting to rise but it did nothing to blot out the dark grey clouds that hung heavy and low atop the mountains. They continued to snow heavily, the flakes melting before they could even find a resting place against your heated face.

In the quietness of the heavy snowfall, your mind naturally began to wander to the past few days that seemed to blur together. You still had no idea why Sukuna had insisted on dragging you all the way to what must be his ancestral temple, it was clearly made for him, it was his place of power. You had no real reason to be here, and yet he made sure to keep you alive until you got here.

The next thing you can’t help but question was that woman you had briefly encountered just moments ago. Kenjaku. That’s what Sukuna had called her. Something about her still made your stomach twist uncomfortably, just knowing she was within range of you at any given time the longer she lingered here. Her words had left you anxious, why did she take such a keen interest in you?

Was it purely because she was excited by the idea that the impervious Sukuna had found someone, a human no less, to protect? You doubted he actually even wanted to protect you. He seemed like the type of man to play with his food before he devoured it.

“You think much too loud.” Sukuna huffs from the pathway that leads to the hot spring, you glance over to him to see that he had changed out of his own dirty trousers into a haori that was definitely made to his size. It’s a rich black material that hangs over his shoulders, tied loosely around the waist and the lower you travel you realise he’s wearing nothing beneath it.

So he was planning on bathing too.

In his hands is a folded material, another haori you realise that’s similar to his own. He places it onto a rock near the hot spring before starting to untie the loose belt holding his haori together. You don’t say anything when he does undress himself, instead scooting to the side of the hot spring furthest away so that he wouldn’t end up touching you on his way in.

The silence that descends upon the hot spring this time is very different to that first encounter. There’s a mutual understanding now amongst the both of you, you had an unspoken bond — if you could call it that. Sukuna still relaxes back against his side of the hot spring, two of his large arms propped over the edge and his head tilted back. He doesn’t acknowledge your presence.

Instead, he sits up for a moment before dousing himself in the hot water. It rolls off in thin rivers along his face and down the centre of his chest, large hands comb through pinkish hair that turns the water a light crimson from just how much blood was still nestled in there. You watch silently as he reaches over towards where he had entered, and you find that he had brought along a washcloth.

He doesn’t offer it to you, because of course he doesn’t, but instead, he washes himself with it. He doesn’t comment on if the fact you’re watching him is bothersome, but you can’t help but feel your fingers twitch when he starts to miss patches of skin that he can’t reach – even with four arms.

“Master Sukuna?” You ask quietly, and your response is a rumbling hum deep in his chest that’s asking you to continue. “May I?”

Crimson eyes snap to you suddenly, and you’re frozen into place with just one hand raised as if you were going to take the cloth away from him. He’s scrutinising you, eyes dancing between your outstretched hand and your face. Slowly he extends the cloth out for you to take, and you pluck it from his hands.

He continues to watch you as you slowly approach, the milky water obscures most of your body but you can’t help but feel like he’s seeing every part of you. You sidle yourself up next to him on a raised rock that serves as a seat, and being this close to him makes your heart pound in your chest.

Sukuna had always had a suffocating aura but it was entirely different when you were stripped bare. But you had offered to do this, and you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of scaring you out of making sure he was cleaned properly.

With a shaky hand, you cup his jaw and you can feel the muscles jump when he clenches his teeth together at the touch. Beneath the water you can feel the ripple of an arm that raises to catch you, to stop you from daring to touch his face. He doesn’t fight you when you carefully turn his face away from your own to reach the parts of his neck he couldn’t reach.

The cloth moves smoothly along expanses of skin that are covered in dark tattoos. They look like they hadn’t faded at all, how new were they? You drag the cloth once again over the tattoos to free it of any grime, you had no experience with tattoos or how they were healed but it looked like these were brand new – a year at the most.

Had he only been branded a criminal for a year or less? Who was he before all of this?

“What’s on your mind?” Sukuna rumbles, his voice vibrating against the free hand that you have pressed to his jaw to hold him in place. It sends a thrill down your spine.

“I don’t think you’d want to answer.” You answer truthfully because you don’t think lying to him will do you any good. Especially not when you’re within range of both his claws and teeth.

“You speak as if you know how my mind works. I’m asking you to tell me.”

You look at him for a moment longer, before you gently turn his face back towards you and a little to the side so you can expose the side of his neck. His eyes feel like they’re trying to burn through your very skin, still judging every minuscule movement you make. He’s waiting for you to answer his question.

“I wanted to know if Sukuna had always been your name.”

He’s silent in response, you’d assume he was going to ignore you entirely if you didn’t spare a glance up towards his face to see that his face was completely relaxed; almost softened around the edges. He doesn’t protest when you direct his head back to wash his hair more thoroughly than he had, you wring the cloth once you had dipped it into the hot water over his head.

You work your fingers back through his hair, continuing to pour water over it whilst working out the smaller knots of dried blood and other bodily matter that you didn’t want to think about. It’s a peaceful quiet that draws over the both of you, save for the sound of you pouring water over his head every now and again.

“Ryoumen Sukuna.” He mutters once you get to the back of his head, working through the shorter hairs. Another pour of water has his words vanishing beneath the splash.

“Hm?” You ask, leaning back to look at him properly. You meet his gaze almost immediately, and he seems almost troubled.

“You asked for my name, it was Ryoumen Sukuna. But no one calls me Ryoumen anymore.” Ryoumen. The name doesn’t ring any bells to you from your past, you don’t recall any great family having the name Sukuna nor did anyone have the name Ryoumen.

It didn’t answer your question as to who he was before he became Master Sukuna but it was a small win in your books.

“I see.” You nod your head, a smile on your face. “Thank you for telling me.”

Sukuna just hums in response to your gratitude, you give him a glance over and deem him clean enough that you start to pull away. Maybe he’d even let you use the cloth on yourself to scrub at your skin—

A hand clamps itself around your wrist just as you start to turn away, it comes with an abrupt tug and you’re forced to stand between Sukuna’s spread thighs. He’s staring down at you along the broadness of his nose, and it’s that same look from the previous time he had you cornered in the spring. He’s looking through you.

“Tell me what really happened in that fight with the sorcerer.”

His question was a complete 180 change from the previous line of questioning you had opened up with him. Your eyebrows raise in surprise, you had told him the bare bones of what had happened.

“The Samurai had used some sort of energy against me and–”

“Not what he did. I don’t care about what he did.” His grip tightens on your wrist a little, forcing you closer to his body. “What did you do?”

“I used your Naginata.” You told him this already, why was he pressing for the fine details? “And… and I somehow blocked his attacks, I thought he was quicker than me but he wasn’t.”

“So you do have potential.” He surmises to himself, the tip of his thumbnail digs into your forearm when he grabs you a little firmer. “You just have no idea what it is, do you?”

You shake your head, no, you had no idea what ‘it’ could be. You know there’s more to the world than meets the eye, the cursed spirits you had encountered were just a fraction of it.

“If I were to offer you the chance to become stronger, would you take it?”

He’s looking at you with a different intensity now, a hunger that you’ve seen before bubbling in his blood. It reminds you of when you had seen him in his element, and whilst it was hardly a fight for him in terms of power, it was mesmerising to watch.

So would you? Would you take the chance to become stronger? The goal you had promised yourself so many moons ago is still at the forefront of your mind, you hadn’t given up on the chance to be the one who kills Ryoumen Sukuna but you knew in your current state, you would never be capable of doing it.

He was offering it to you on a silver platter.

“Yes.” You answer in a hushed whisper with no hesitation. Because yes, you would take the chance to become stronger.

Sukuna grins then, with sharp teeth and evil intentions. “Then I want to make a binding vow with you.”

“A binding vow?”

“It’s a vow that must be honoured by both parties, if one were to break it then they’d be faced with their demise.” He hums, the thumbnail that was digging into your skin is now drawing patterns into your skin. “So now that you know what it is, will you agree to one?”

“That depends on what you want.” Your eyebrows furrow together, and Sukuna laughs quietly at your quick tongue.

“Smart.” He adjusts his hold, another hand coming to grab at your side and you’re suddenly rooted in place when he sits up from his slightly slouched position. “Then allow me to lay down the rules.”

A hand raises from the water, a single finger raised. “One. I will make you one of the strongest sorcerers of this era, you will comply with my lessons.” A second finger raises. “Two. You in return, when the time is right, will lend me the power I have given you.”

What did he mean by that? Was he intending on training you to then use you as a weapon in his arsenal? You turn your gaze away from his unnerving one, instead focusing on the flakes of snow that have settled all around you. The ‘binding vow’ had said nothing about you harming him, you could do what he asked and then you’d be able to kill him with your newfound strength.

“Well? Does the dove agree with the terms laid in front of her?”

You meet his gaze again, and he grins again when you square your shoulders. “I do.”

And then that grin grows malicious, the hand around your wrist clamps down far too tightly until you feel your skin burning beneath his bruising grip. Automatically, you try to push him off of you but he keeps you trapped between his thighs with the help of his many hands.

“No need to run. You’ve made a vow with me, and I intend on honouring my side of it.”

Sukuna is rough with the way he pulls you into his chest, now holding your burning wrist above the water in the air. It still burns even in the cold brisk wind, as if Sukuna’s hand was made of molten lava. He only watches with mild amusement at the way you struggle to free yourself when he loops two large arms around your back to keep you pressed into his chest.

The realisation that you’re both completely naked beneath the water and now chest-to-chest is jarring, it makes your heart stutter in your chest and your lungs seize up in fear. He had you in a very vulnerable position, he could do anything to you and you’d be in no position to stop him.

His giant hand holding your forearm slides upwards until it engulfs your own quickly, the tips of his claws clink together when he squeezes your hand to ensure you weren’t going anywhere. You hesitate to look at what he had done to your arm when he gripped it with such force, but alas, your curiosity beats your rational mind.

Around your wrist is a thick band of a tattoo, very similar to his own. It makes your heart sink into your stomach.

“Now, you’ll never forget our vow. Your heart, your soul, it belongs to me.”

That sentence alone has your heart sinking into the bottomless pit that formed in your stomach. Maybe the terms of the agreement were so vague for this very reason; he wanted a loophole. He tricked you into a bargain with someone much worse than the Devil.

Sukuna seems delighted with the fact you’re mortified with the realisation, you gave him just what he wanted. His fingers unfurl your fingers slowly until his fingers slide between your own to entwine his hand with yours, his hand is far larger than your own.

“For your first lesson, I want you to try and control your cursed energy.” A hand below the water starts to explore the expanse of your back, black claws dipping into the curve of your spine occasionally. “You have no control over it. You practically ooze with how untamed it is, it’s rather distracting.”

You had no idea that you were even doing such a thing, surely you would notice if you were ‘oozing’ cursed energy so much that it became distracting for others, surely there’d be some tell—... You freeze in the water, a realisation slowly drawing over your face.

“Can cursed spirits sense it too?” You ask quietly, and Sukuna only grins wider.

“You’re catching on, but you’re not entirely right either. You see, your emotions are a very big factor with cursed energy… and you’ve been oh-so miserable the last few weeks that you’ve caused quite a stir.”

Your emotions. Your mind flits back to the darkness, the shadows and the thing that lived there. It wasn’t there when you were first thrown inside, it had manifested sometime during the second day when you realised no one was coming back for you. You had made that… thing.

“So, to circumvent that. You’ll need to learn to control it.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you meet his predatory gaze once again. “How do I control something I didn’t know I even had?”

Sukuna sighs heavily as if you asked a ridiculous question, his fingers squeeze your palm uncomfortably hard for a moment before he relaxes. “Tell me where you believe negative emotions reside.”

You thought about that for a moment. Whenever you had a bad feeling about something, it was always in the pit of your stomach. When you were sad, it felt like a hollow void in the centre of your chest. When you felt anger, it bubbled in the depths of your gut until it felt like it was in your throat.

“My stomach.”

The man before you tsks quietly, as if he were scolding a child. “That line of thinking is why most sorcerers are weak.”

Sukuna shifts in front of you, another hand touches your body but this time it rests on your outer thigh. His last remaining hand slides up along your stomach, the back of his knuckles pressing into the flesh as if it test just how soft it was beneath his touch. It makes you squirm, to be touched in such a way felt wrong — but not in a way you were expecting. It made your toes curl uncomfortably against the rough rock beneath you.

“View your body as different sections. Instead of pooling all of this energy into one place like your stomach, separate your energy evenly.” His hands move with his words, the fingers at your back press into the small of your back, the ones at your thigh dig into the flesh and the ones at your stomach brush upwards until they rest at your sternum.

“If you can learn to do that, you’ll be stronger than anyone who dares to face you.”

You suck in a breath slowly when those same fingers brush back down along your sternum, brushing delicately against the exposed skin of your stomach. You focus on ‘spreading’ your energy, even if you’re not quite sure just what it is he’s looking for. It reminds you briefly of the time when Kiso had taught you breathing techniques to keep up with your stances, to help you move as fluidly as possible.

Sukuna laughs at your attempt. “You won’t master it in a day. Not whilst you still hold so tightly to those Samurai beliefs of yours.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” You snip back a little too quickly, and the glowing red of Sukuna’s eyes grows a little bit brighter at the feisty tone you dare to use on him.

Those fingers across your body dig painfully into your skin, grabbing at your flesh until it pools between large fingers. “It has everything to do with it, you ignorant child.”

Your fingers holding his hand twitch unwillingly, digging your nails fruitlessly into the back of his hand as if that would do anything to convey your annoyance. Instead, it only makes Sukuna tilt his head in a condescending manner.

The warmth between your clamped hands continues to grow hotter and hotter by the second, and yet it does not burn your skin like it had when he first grabbed your wrist to brand you. Sukuna hardly gives your joined hands a glance when he notices the shift in temperature, his main focus is settled on your face.

His words bounce around your head, an ignorant child is what he called you. You were anything but ignorant or a child, you weren’t an official Samurai of course but you were still brought up that way. You had honoured that for so long, and to be accused of it being a hindrance now…? It only served to piss you off.

You think about what he had said about cursed energy, to focus all of that emotion into separate areas. But all you could focus on was the hand he was holding tightly in his iron grip, you wanted him to let go. You’ll make him let go.

Sukuna clicks his tongue when he feels the burst of cursed energy in your fist, and he moves much faster than you anticipated as he uncurls his hand from yours only to grab at your wrist and aim your hand away. It comes with a loud bang, a burst of energy that was too raw.

There’s a second delayed resounding boom, this time distantly and you look away from Sukuna to assess just what had happened. The entirety of the wall next to you had been decimated as if something large had been thrown through it. It was nowhere near as refined as the blue-eyed Samurai you had run into but it was a similar type of damage.

“You have far too much energy inside of you to be wasting it like a petulant child. If you do not adhere to the vow, I will ensure it’s you who suffers the consequences of breaking it.”

The biting cold stings at your now exposed palm, and Sukuna doesn’t fight to hold your arm in the air when you pull it back to assess the damage. Your palm looks like it had been dipped into burning oil, the skin is blistered along your palm and blood drips from the tips of your fingers.

“Let this be a lesson as to why you’ll remain weak if you don’t listen to me.” His hands are no longer touching your body, that bruising grip is replaced with just the warmth of the water. “You’ll only be useful to me if you’re strong enough. If I find you weak and useless… then perhaps I’ll allow Kenjaku to take you.”

Those words pool real dread in your stomach. You had no idea just who or what Kenjaku really was, she wasn’t as monstrous as Sukuna sure but there was something about her that terrified you.

So you shake your head no, dropping your chin down towards your chest. “I’ll listen.”

Sukuna hums, as if he doesn’t quite believe you before there’s a rush of water and he’s standing up much too close. You fall back into the water with a squeak, the blistered palm meets the hot water and it’s as if you had again dipped your hand into burning oil. It burns at the skin until it pops and blisters again.

By the time you’re back on your own two feet in the water, Sukuna has draped himself in the haori he had arrived in. “Finish your bath quickly. Unless you wish to stay out here for the rest of the night and freeze. I don’t care.”

He doesn’t even spare you a glance, already walking back along the path that led back into the temple. He disappears into a different door however than the one you had come through, it’s on the right and oversees a good portion of the small garden you find yourself in. His personal quarters? That’d make the most sense. He seemed to enjoy being the furthest away from anyone else.

Your hand continues to throb as you hold it over the water, the blood had been washed off some in the fall back into the water but the blisters still remain swollen and raw. Maybe if you asked nicely enough, he’d give you something to wrap it in to avoid infection. Speaking of, your entire body shivers at a particular rough gust of wind that blows itself against your back.

It’s enough to get you wading through the hot water and clambering out the side, you look at the material Sukuna had left here. It definitely was for you then. You unfold it carefully, and you were correct to assume it was a haori very similar to his own. It was much smaller, thankfully, and that only begged the question as to just where he had got this from.

But beggars can’t be choosers, so you quickly wrap it around yourself to scurry off after Sukuna’s large wet footprints on the stone path to seek a warm place to sleep for the night. You hesitate however once you reach his door, it’s just as foreboding as the one that led to his throne room but not nearly as big. Was it just his energy alone that filled anyone nearby with utter fear?

“Linger any longer and I’ll ensure you never leave that spot again.” He barks from the other side of the door. You don’t doubt he means it when he threatens you like that, so you slide open the door to hastily shut it behind you when another gust of wind blows in small flakes of snow along the wooden floor.

It’s mostly dark inside the room. The only light is coming from a lit fire on the other side of the room, it’s in a lowered hearth. It gives just enough light for you to map out the layout, you spot the bed first. It’s just as large as the one in the first shrine, if not just a little more lavish. It’s still a futon on a raised platform but this one is shrouded in sheer curtains that hang from the ceiling, quite the picture of royalty.

The room itself is quite large, on the opposite side of the room from the bed is a large bookcase that spans the entirety of the wall. It’s made of a thick black wood, painted so beautifully that you don’t doubt he had someone hand paint it. The books that line it are old, much older than anything you had seen, in languages you don’t recognise when your eyes scour over the titles.

The man that occupies the room however is sitting atop a zabuton cushion, his body language tells you he’s completely relaxed. His arms aren’t crossed over his chest whilst he flicks through some old book. His face is lacking any real emotion. You’d even reach to say he looked tired.

It almost feels like you’re intruding on his space.

“Where am I to sleep tonight, Master Sukuna?” His eyes drift towards you slowly, and that tired expression on his face deepens with whatever thoughts he may be having.

“Here.” He says it so offhandedly it catches you by surprise. Your eyebrows raise, you hadn’t expected him to allow you to sleep in here – it was his room after all. “Don’t act so surprised. I don’t trust Kenjaku enough to not do something to you.”

You suppose that made some sense, but surely the mark on your arm was enough to tell even Kenjaku that you “belonged”—the word nearly makes you shiver—to Sukuna.

You clear your throat, pushing away the flusteredness that settles into your chest. “But what about y–”

“I don’t sleep. Not anymore. Use the bed, and get some rest.” He dismisses you by returning his eyes back to his book, one hand tucking beneath his chin to support his head whilst two hands work to flip the pages and simultaneously hold it.

It’s unnerving to sleep in the same room as him. Of course, you had slept around him before, but that was out in the wilderness. It felt less… personal than it does now. To sleep in another person's bed, a man's bed, was intimate. You don’t even recall the last time you slept in the same bed as your husband after he had pushed you away.

Sukuna doesn’t comment on the fact you seem to hover for a second in the plane of uncertainty, he doesn’t even look your way when you take steps towards the futon and onto the platform that houses it. The large curtains brush to the side before you lower your knees onto the soft material.

You practically sink into it with how soft it is, it feels much like how you imagine a cloud would if you could touch it for the briefest of seconds. The marvel at just how soft the bed is enough to distract you from the pair of eyes that flick up from the book to watch you paw your way around the large bed.

It’s gigantic. Of course it is. It could probably fit five or six of you in here comfortably. Slipping beneath the futon cover, you make sure to keep your haori as tightly bound to your body as possible, you could’ve asked for a change of clothes but perhaps you were already pushing your luck by forcing Sukuna to keep guard whilst you slept.

You sink down into the pillows, and it’s as if the exhaustion of the past week hits you with the force of a bull. It becomes increasingly difficult to keep your eyes open, the ceiling above you darkens with each blink of your eye. But something is stopping you from sleeping, a nagging feeling at the back of your mind to look in the direction of the man who’s been both your saviour and nightmare in such a short amount of time.

Sukuna is looking down at his book when you do end up rolling onto your side to observe him, his lower set of eyes are completely closed and you’re certain they’re sleeping. So much for not needing to sleep, huh? His body is slightly slouched, he was definitely in need of proper rest and for some reason it was tugging at your heartstrings.

“Master Sukuna?” You whisper into the frigid darkness of the room, only the flickering light of the fire from the hearth providing you enough to see Sukuna when he raises his head just a little to address you. “Will you join me?”

Those red eyes stare at you for a long tense moment, you start to worry that perhaps you crossed an unspoken boundary. He doesn’t even look like he’s breathing, each of his muscles is drawn tight as if he’s ready to pounce across the room and rip you apart limb from limb.

Except… his muscles slowly relax again, and his body sinks further into the cushion before he gives a shake of his head.

“I told you to get some rest. It’d be wise to listen to my words instead of trying to entice me into bed with you.” His words are brash, and they make your skin set alight in what might be embarrassment but something else lingers just beneath that — something unspeakable.

“I–!” You splutter, bringing the futon up to beneath your nose when Sukuna lets out a low rumble of a laugh. “I meant to sleep!”

Sukuna simply rests his cheek against an enclosed fist, head tilted so he can observe you clearly with a lazy grin on his face. “I don’t believe you.”

You want to screw your face up and shout at him for being so absurd but you can’t find it within you to argue with him. So you flip yourself over instead to keep your back to him, and again Sukuna laughs at you but it doesn’t feel as malicious as it once had.

“Sleep well, dove. You’ll need it.” He offers into the quiet of the night.

“...Goodnight, Sukuna.” He doesn’t reply, nor does he reprimand you for leaving out his respected title. Instead, you listen to the gentle crackle of the hearth, the flipping of old pages every now and again and the whistling gust of wind that continues to batter against the door.

It’s much easier to slip beneath the gentle blanket of sleep that washes over you, with your nose unknowingly pressed into the pillow that smells so familiar — a soft flowery scent, not overly sweet but fresh, it mixes well with an underlying musk that has your eyelids too heavy to lift anymore until finally… you’re asleep.

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#dead dove do not eat #cw gore #cw dark content #cw violence #tw cannibalism #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #banner artwork is official game art for ghost of tsushima made by ian jun wei chiew

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rainydaydream-gal18 · 1 year

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Oooo, what about how The Bad Batch would react to catching you singing to yourself? I feel like that would be cute.

(The Bad Batch) He Catches You Singing

Author's Note: In celebration of season 2 starting, here we go! I'm sooooo excited!!!! No worries, though! There are no spoilers here!

Hunter: He was seated in his chair, eyes scrunched shut as he mulled over the most recent mission. It was a habit. He thought about everything that went right, everything that went wrong, and everything that went downright ugly.

The Bad Batch made a quick getaway, thanks to Tech’s rather chaotic but skilled piloting. Things were quieting down aboard the Marauder as it flew through hyperspace.

Hunter let out a sigh, leaning farther back in his seat.

A small sound caught his attention. The way it rose and fell in a pleasant, rhythmic way was unmistakably a song. Hunter held his breath and focused. It was you.

You were singing a song to yourself as you moseyed down the hall.

It was such a simple thing, but the small act of joy brought a smile to his face. He rested his head against the back of the chair and just listened, the lines of his features smoothing out as the tension began to leave him.

If there was an opportune moment later, he’d ask about it and chuckle at your sheepish reaction.

Wrecker: He rounded a corner aboard the Marauder, hearing the barely-audible sound grow louder as he entered the space where you were doing routine tasks and singing to yourself. You were so in the zone that you didn’t notice his approach.

It wasn’t often that Wrecker’s presence went unnoticed, so he took advantage of the moment to just hang back. A soft lopsided grin adorned his face as he admired the way you swayed back and forth, just enjoying a second in your own little world.

So cute, he thought.

Then, after he had the precious moment of appreciation, he couldn’t help but join in. He waited for the right moment when you hit the chorus and burst into the room with a huge smile. Was he singing off-key? A little. Did either of you care? Not one bit.

Tech: “Vital functions of the ship seem to be operating suitably,” he said aloud to himself. His nose was buried in a data pad as he walked down the exit ramp. Just in time, too. It was only a matter of letting Hunter know so he could assemble the team and get them onboard.

His boots landed on grass, and Tech turned every which way in hopes of spotting the sergeant, or any of his teammates for that matter. He felt a rush of familiarity at the sight of you waiting patiently a little ways away from the ship. A breeze swept through, carrying your voice to his ears. Tech adjusted his goggles while he listened, the corner of his lips turning up in a soft smile only reserved for you. Eventually, you turned around to see him standing there, and you suddenly felt embarrassed.

“Yikes…Hi.”

“Hi,” he chuckled.

Echo: Singing? At this hour? Echo couldn’t understand how you could be so cheerful, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t lift his mood even a tiny bit first thing in the morning. He even held back his usual grumbles and complaints to whoever was listening, just so he could hear you from down the hall a little clearer.

Before long, he was smiling. You had that effect on him, he noticed. He’d find himself smiling at the strangest of times, and it always felt weird. It felt like ages since the days he’d smile for no reason.

He followed the sound of your voice, pausing at the entryway to observe you putting on a concert for yourself. You’d pause every few minutes or so to sip your caf before resuming the tune. It was very endearing to see you so content. When you finally noticed him standing there, you clamped your mouth shut, giving him an apologetic look.

“Sorry, Echo. Am I bothering you?”

He shifted his stance, folding his arms. “Not at all.” Humor crept into his tone. “Please, don’t stop on my account. ”

Crosshair: When he first heard your voice through the wall, he just about rolled his eyes, but not out of disdain. You and your unbridled joy. It was actually quite endearing, even if the way you expressed it was very different from how he would. It fascinated him.

He lingered in the hall a while longer, enveloped in shadow, as you began singing a different tune entirely. It was softer, slower. Crosshair didn’t realize just how intently he was listening until you rounded the corner and nearly bumped into him.

“Oh, Crosshair,” you said in surprise.

He knew that you were still nervous around him. Seeing you all flustered, he couldn’t resist having a little fun with it.

“What were you doing?”

“Nothing. Just- nothing.”

He smirked before thinking twice. You’d just started to warm up to him, and he realized just how much he wanted that to continue. So, he wiped the infuriating smirk and flickered his eyes down to meet yours.

“You have a nice voice.”

And with that, he walked away.

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daceydeath · 11 days

Text

Cigarettes and Cliches (Part 8)

Pairing: Felix x Reader Word Count: 4.7 Genre: Collage AU, Slow Burn Romance Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, Swearing, Explicit Activities, Alcohol

He was the most impractical guy for you to be interested in, the incredibly handsome cliché bad boy who collected girls like trophies. As hard as you wanted to hate him his persistence and hidden softer side just could be your undoing.

Managing to sneak into your shared apartment unnoticed you saw that both Seungmin and Jeongin's shoes were just abandoned in the entryway making you think they must have been at least more than tipsy when they got home the night before and from the lack of noise as you crept down the hallway it looked like they had not yet surfaced which helped you to relax and return to your room to quickly shower and change your clothes. By the time you had reemerged from your room and settled on the couch with a cup of coffee you could hear the sounds of bumping furniture and groans coming from one of the bedrooms which from the cursing that followed you recognized as Jeongin.

"Morning sunshine" you teased as his fluffy haired frowning face came around the corner into the kitchen, eyes scrunched up to protect him from the light.

"M’ning" he groaned, barely able to focus on you and he bumped straight into the cupboard he was trying to open to get a glass.

"How hard did you guys go last night?" you laughed silently getting up to help him get water and painkillers in his rather useless state “looks like it was a big one”.

"Seung and Minho had a drinking contest so he was fuuucked and I was playing beer pong and lost.... a lot" he smiled weakly taking the water and pills from you.

"I'll take some water and painkillers into Seung then and check he is still alive" you nodded knowing that they would have been so messy last night that they probably just passed out once they got into bed not noticing that you weren't home.

Taking a bottle of water into Seungmin's room you noticed he was still totally dressed from the night before and just laying on his front so you left the packet of tablets and the water on the bed side table and put your hand on his back to make sure he was in fact still breathing.

"Not dead, just wanna be" Seung's very croaky voice came from somewhere under his hood and bed head hair.

"Just checking, there's something to help" you smiled, patting his head and walking back out to the lounge room. Your phone chimed so you fished it out of your pocket to see who was texting you, only to hear more loud swearing from the kitchen as Jeongin spilled his coffee all over the counter and began wiping it up begrudgingly making you giggle again. Stepping around him you helped him pour another cup.

When can I see you again baby? I already miss you.

You read the message and grinned at the butterflies that were now filling your stomach, and were starting to make you feel a little giddy. Felix always knew how to make you feel like a silly little school girl without any effort at all.

"What are you smiling at?" Jeongin asked, screwing his eyes up as he walked into the brighter side of the room clutching the coffee in his hands tightly.

"Just funny memes" you lied easily knowing he was too hungover to challenge you anyway.

"Oh you free tonight?" He blurted suddenly louder than you expected as the thought popped into his head.

"Yes.... why?" you blinked recovering from the jump scare he had just unintentionally delivered to your system.

"Dinner, all of us, tonight" he looked up at the ceiling like he was trying to remember all the facts he needed to tell you. "So like us, Chan, Changbin and Han, maybe the whore club at 8 but I forget where".

"I can do dinner but maybe give me Chan's number so I can text him for the details" you chuckled slightly at how much Jeongin was struggling to function "Then go back to bed Innie I'll order us food for lunch that you can eat when you wake up again".

"Thank you, you are the fucking best you know that? Plus hot you're also hot" he mumbled giving you his unlocked phone and shuffling back to his bedroom. You opened his contacts scrolling through until you found Chan's number then added it to your phone, also copying out Changbin's and Han's contacts in case Chan was in the same position that Innie was in.

“When did the agreement between you and Seung to tell me I look hot or cute or whatever happen?” you asked in confusion, after his retreating figure but he totally ignored you disappearing into the darkness of his room.

Are you and the guys coming to dinner tonight?

You quickly texted to Felix before composing a text that didn't seem too random or confusing to Chan, in case he too was as under the weather as your two roommates. His reply came back pretty quickly giving you the details and being amazed that you had actually even spoken to either of your severely hungover friends.

The thing at Chan’s? Yeah we're going. We will have to sneak off so I can kiss you again baby

The images that your mind created of the two of you sneaking off had a flush creeping across your cheeks and down your neck as you read Felix’s reply. You would have to make sure that if you could sneak away you would and then it hit you that if you snuck away with Felix it would essentially be lying to your friends and the guilt began to set in. Not telling either Seungmin or Jeongin was essentially lying by omission and that made you a terrible friend in your mind at least, friends don't willingly lie to their friends about things like this.

Going back into your room you started up on some homework that you knew you should have been getting done but had left for a few days. If you were going to use the too busy to come home because of schoolwork excuse you needed to get as far ahead as possible so it was believable. You knew the two small tests you had at the start of the semester were going to be easy you had been prepared for them before they were announced knowing that they were also only a mock partial exams helped too since you could, hopefully ace them, and make your parents think you were now back in the top position in each of your classes. You also knew you needed to finish the last draft of a major assignment so that you wouldn’t have to deal with the stress later. By the time lunch time rolled around and you were hungry the others still hadn’t ventured out of their rooms so you ordered as much fried chicken as you could knowing that they would be happy to eat it left over if they didn’t surface when they smelt it.

You pulled out some clothes to wear for the dinner and put them on the end of your bed, you knew you didn’t need to dress up to go the Chan’s apartment so you just grabbed some jeans that were a little tight around your butt and a slightly cropped top to that it would look like you hadn’t made no effort but you weren’t hoping to impress anyone. The buzzer from the door camera let you know the chicken had arrived and you went down to get it hoping that you would feel less nervous about what would happen later that evening. As you had predicted Seungmin managed to surface as the smell of fresh hot fried chicken followed you up the hallway and Jeongin followed suit sitting down at the table while you got them a hangover cure each and yourself a juice.

“Fried chicken, top choice” Seungmin smiled, taking a drumstick and tearing into it like a starving caveman making you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Again the best” Jeongin agreed, picking up his own piece but not shoving it in his mouth quite as enthusiastically as Seungmin.

“I texted Chan and it's 8 o’clock tonight and their apartment” you informed both of them “I said you were both in but you can text him if you don’t want to go”.

You showered and started getting ready, your preplanned outfit and basic makeup to make you like nice but not too out of the ordinary, finally throwing Felix’s hoodie over your outfit so that you would be warm on the way there and also so you smell his scent without actually being close to him. If Seungmin or Jeongin noticed that it was a different hoodie they didn’t say anything but you did often wear super comfortable clothes which did annoy Jeongin at least to no end, so another large hoodie was nothing to take note of. Jeongin drove, having been sure that he was not going to have any alcohol left in his system and you sat in the back watching the buildings go by until you got to Chan’s. Knocking on his door, you waited with the boys watching the last of the colored traces of the day fade into the inky darkness of dusk, you suddenly realized that this must be what it was like to be normal, have a normal social life and a normal set of friends. It caused a small ache in your chest suddenly like you had missed out on something very important but it also gave you a rush of fondness for the two boys standing either side of you leaning on either the stair railing or the wall beside the door.

“Oh you two aren’t dead! Well done” Han laughed as he let you all in, listening to Seungmin grumble something under his breath as you slipped off your shoes “I’m glad you could make it tonight” He grinned at you turning his attention away from the others.

“Hi Han” you smiled back following him up the hallway to the lounge.

“The princess and her two trolls are here” Han announced as you turned into the kitchen waving to everyone else that was there. Changbin chuckled as whatever Jeongin called from down the hallway was muffled by the sounds of the six guys already milling about talking. Felix's eyes were already on you when you looked towards them, his lips turning up at the corners making you subconsciously bite your lower lip in response.

“Pleased you actually got the message about tonight” Chan shook his head at the teasing that was already ramping up.

“Thanks for inviting me Chan” you replied, making your way around the kitchen to the other side of the island bench trying not to stare at Felix as you went.

“Hello kitten” Minho smirked as you sat yourself on one of the bar stools making you roll your eyes at him.

“Minho, you seem to be in pretty good shape considering you tried to kill Seung last night” you raised your eyebrows at him finally noticing the identical looks of mischief on both he and Hyunjin’s faces.

“Aw, didn’t know you cared so much” he teased, easily making Feix’s jaw clench and you rub your temples in faux annoyance and Jeongin came and sat down next to you placing a drink in front of you.

“Ignore Captain fucks-a-lot” he sighed sticking his tongue out and Minho.

“Rude” Minho laughed playfully, punching Jeongin and going to grab a beer from the fridge.

“We're just getting pizza. Is that good for you?” Chan asked, drawing your attention away from the others.

“That’s perfect. As long as it doesn’t come with a side of anyone's psycho ex” you quipped making Han and Seungmin burst into laughter.

“Yeah I can assure you the place we get our pizzas from doesn’t have that” Chan beamed, seeming much happier that you were comfortable enough to be cracking jokes.

“When are you coming out to party with us again?” Changbin asked loudly, his voice easily blocking out the others.

“Um, I don’t know” you shrugged “I don’t want anyone to feel like they have to babysit me” you pointedly looked and Seungmin then Jeongin.

“Hey! we have cause, Felix had to rescue you last time” Seungmin challenged playfully.

“Yeah then had to sit through accusations of having sexy eyes by Innie” you gestured with your thumb to the boy to your right.

“When did I say that?” Jeongin yelped, completely confused.

“While you were staring at the ceiling I think” you recounted “you slurred something about why the fuck was Felix in the apartment, something about me being off limits and no sexy eyes then Seung had to help you get to bed”

“All of that is in fact true bro”Seungmin confirmed as more laughter filled the room.

“Well I don’t remember it so it didn’t happen” Jeongin sulked, pouting slightly. Chan ordered the pizzas on his phone and got everyone more drinks, turning on the TV to pass time until all the food arrived. You noticed how close Hyunjin and Minho were to Felix and how annoyed he seemed to be at them so you just kept your distance and subtly watched them trying to figure out what was up. Feeling a little warm with all the scrutiny you slipped Felix’s hoodie over your head laying it on your lap until you could put it somewhere safe, you didn’t notice the look that Felix gave you as your shirt rode up or the fact that all the others had seen slightly more of you than you had planned.

“So what are you doing this week? Want to come hang out with us?” Changbin asked, clearing his throat and breaking you away from another glance at Felix.

“I’m back at work next week but you can always come by and hang out there if you come around my break” you looked from him to Han who were both sitting on the other lounge to you.

“Did those bitches get expelled too?” Felix interrupted, confusing just about everyone else.

“Yes, both of them did. You don’t have to worry Felix no one is throwing hot coffee on me” you sighed heavily frowning lightly.

“Hold the fuck up what?” Han spat his voice harsher than normal as he looked between you and Felix.

“Two of Nali’s friends had planned to throw coffee on me at work, they were reported to the police and they were part of the group expelled so it’s fine. It’s over now” You explained biting on the inside of your cheek.

“Well we will definitely drop by the cafe then so we can keep an eye out” Chagbin nodded, his tone turning serious and Han and Chan both looked concerned.

“That old guy at the convenience store was right. I do have far too many bodyguards” you groaned, a loud knocking on the front door indicating that the food had arrived and you were being saved from furthering the conversation about how Felix knew this and some of the others didn’t. Lining all the pizzas up in the kitchen you all grabbed plates and helped yourself going back into the lounge to eat Chan putting a movie on in the background to fill the silence of you all chewing.

“Forgot to mention princess” Hyunjin grinned slyly “You looked extra cute in that hoodie”.

“Um, thank you Hyunjin” you answered slowly, looking at him suspiciously, noting that Minho raised his eyebrows suggestively from where he sat next to him.

“I swear I’ve seen one like that before” Minho added Hyunjins smirk growing and Felix who was now sitting at the end of the lounge beside Han and Changbin narrowed his eyes deliberately making you catch on finally to where they were going with the compliments, your stomach dropping at the realization that they both knew, because of course they knew, they lived with Felix they would recognize his clothes and here you were wearing it in front of them like an idiot.

“I imagine because it isn’t the only one in existence” you shot back hoping to sound sarcastic not panicked.

“What are you two up to?” Seungmin snapped at them, making them dissolve into knowing chuckles.

“Fuckers” Felix muttered quietly gritting his teeth.

“Idiots” Han rolled his eyes “So what kind of hours do you actually work? Can we just come hang out?”

“Oh yeah you can come by and just stay for as long as you want” you grinned toothily happy for something to change the conversation “I’m on pretty much every afternoon for the next week so starting at 2 finishing at 7. So I guess we could grab dinner one night instead if that was easier for you guys too” you mused thinking as you pulled out your phone to check if anything else was on your schedule.

“Absolutely” Chan nodded “That sounds like a good idea for us all to hang out without too much organizing”.

“And Seung and I can keep an eye out for you” Jeongin added, looking at you seriously.

“I swear you are more protective than my dad” you grumbled playfully making both Seungmin and Jeongin flush with embarrassment.

You continued talking about stupid stuff all only partially concentrating on the movie that was still playing in the background and eating until you felt like you couldn’t eat anything else. It was just another standard superhero movie so the fight scenes and graphics were easy to get lost in. Excusing yourself to the bathroom you made your way up the stairs phone in your hand as it chimed with a text.

God you looked so good in my hoodie baby ;) Just want you all to myself

You couldn’t help the spark that shot through you at Felix’s words chewing your lip. You thought about how forward you wanted to be when you responded.

I like wearing your clothes Lix, I like feeling like I’m yours.

You took a huge breath before you pressed send hoping that he would respond to that in a good way and not think you were being too much of a tease, even though part of you knew he would never think that considering how much you had already made him wait to even touch you let alone kiss you.

Fuck baby are you trying to get me to kiss you? because that is exactly how you get that to happen saying things like that.

You swallowed hard, Felix probably looked totally indifferent as they all say around drinking beer and matching the movie while you were standing in the bathroom looking like a tomato had decided to replace your face. Holding your hands under the cold running water you pressed them to your cheeks to try to calm yourself down. A soft knock made you freeze on the spot.

“It's just me baby” Felix chuckled quietly, almost sensing your dilemma. Letting out the breath you were holding you opened the door for him to find him leaning against the door frame looking devilishly handsome.

“Hi” you whispered as he stepped into the bathroom, instantly sliding his hands around your waist, his fingers brushing against your skin agonizingly slowly, before pulling you against his chest pausing to let you decide what happened next. Leaning into him you brushed your lips against his tentatively feeling him smile against your lips.

“You are definitely going to be the death of me” he murmured, kissing you needily pulling a soft moan from you as his teeth tugged on your bottom lip. Pulling away from him gently you backed out of the bathroom hoping no one would be any the wiser leaving him to shut the door behind him.

“You know I will never understand why girls take so long in the bathroom” Hyunjin smirked as you finally returned to the lounge and slipped back into the seat you had been occupying.

“I’m pretty sure it’s because we have better hygiene” you quipped looking at Hyunjin expectantly only for the others to laugh and whatever comeback he had to die on his tongue. Felix returned a couple of minutes later going to the fridge to get another drink.

“So I heard through a couple of girls that you are claiming to have a girlfriend, Lix. What the fuck is with that?” Han asked mockingly, making the others all laugh.

“Really? Is that because they came to you after I turned them down” Felix smirked, one eyebrow raised challenging Han.

“Are you going through our sloppy seconds Hannie?” Minho jeered, laughing at Han’s shocked face.

“Hardly sloppy seconds if she got rejected, is it?” Seungmin asked, brow furrowed in faux confusion.

“Even worse she’s bad enough to get turned down by Lix and you can’t even get her” Hyunjin cackled, throwing his head back.

“Who said she turned me down? But that isn’t what I was asking” Han pushed leaning towards Felix as though he expected an answer.

“Wow I’m gone for 5 minutes and were being mysoginists and slut shaming nice one boys” you screwed your nose up in slight disgust.

“Slut shaming?” Changbin parroted looking at you for an answer.

“You know most women love being referred to as sloppy seconds. It really makes us feel loved and respected” you replied deadpaned crossing your arms across your chest.

“Oh shit yeah, sorry about that” Han sheepishly scratched the back of his neck apologetically.

“I don’t care where any of you stick your dicks, as long as they aren’t psychos, but can you not be so gross in front of me?” you asked with slight disgust in your voice.

“You are right, of course we will be respectful from now on,” Chan promised, genuinely making the others murmur apologies to you and dropping the subject all together for the moment. As the night continued on you yawned your head falling back against the back of the lounge with a soft thud.

“We should get you home” Jeongin interrupted, patting your shoulder lightly. Both he and Seungmin had decided not to drink, which you were thankful for because you didn’t really want to have to visit them in hospital with alcohol poisoning.

“I’m alright Innie, we can stay as long as you want” you smiled lolling your head towards him. “Besides it’s nice to be here and not be puking with stress that a random lunatic has caused" making him grin at you.

Seungmin pulled you to your feet, stopping you from collecting the last of the plates scattered around the room and walked you towards the kitchen with Jeongin behind you. You waved around Jeongin's shoulders before stepping into the hallway and getting your shoes to go home. It had been a really nice evening. You had fun hanging out with them and nothing bad had happened which you felt was a huge success considering your previous visit to Chan’s place. Watching the streetlights pass the car window, your drooping eyelids were interrupted by your phone chiming and Seungmin and Jeongin’s conversation from the front seats.

Goodnight baby, I miss you already ;)

You typed back knowing that Felix wouldn’t be able to avoid the questions the others had now that you were away from them but that he could talk his way out of just about anything you had seen him do just that before, throwing out something else that could be used to take the piss out of one of the others to avoid having to admit anything .

Goodnight Lix

“So do you reckon the girlfriend thing is a cover to try to keep himself out of trouble? Or do you think there is some poor girl he’s leading on because she’s not bright enough to know what he’s like?” Jeongin asked Seungim, turning his head to look at him, his face red from the brightness of the traffic light in front of you.

“I’d like to think it's the former to be honest. Hyunjin said he got chewed out by the university head after the stuff with Nali so using it as an excuse to keep other loons away is a good cover” Seungmin shrugged checking the traffic before turning.

“There is a third option though but to be fair I don’t even want to entertain the idea” Jeongin sighed, checking the mirror on the back of his visor to look at you while you looked at your phone pretending to be oblivious to the conversation they were having.

“I thought of that too and I’ll be honest I don’t love the idea but we can do anything about it either way” Seungmin muttered still staring out at the traffic around you.

“I know but I worry” Jeongin sighed. “What if it turns out like last time?”. Silence filled the car and you figured the conversation must be over so you leaned against the car window shutting your eyes.

“It’s not the same situation, and Felix isn’t Hyunjin” Seungmin finally conceded, making you wonder what the hell they were talking about. You stayed in the position you were in until your phone chimed again making you frown as you opened the message.

Baby. I’m sorry Hyunjin recognized the hoodie and told Minho so they have figured it out. Well they think they have figured it out.

The feeling that bloomed in your stomach was not easy to identify, it wasn’t fear and it wasn’t worry it was something else, making you wonder did you actually care if people knew you were dating Felix? Was what was happening between you even dating?. You could tell from the way Seungmin and Jeongin spoke they were referring to you and Felix just now but they didn’t seem angry, they seemed concerned or even a little bit unwilling to accept that perhaps there was something between you.

Your thoughts were jumbled, what if the revelation of you and Felix being together made people think that there had been some truth to what Nali has said about you? Or what if by some bizarre set of circumstances your parents found out and had you pulled from university? There was no way that you could imagine that they would realistically find out, no one from home knew what you were even studying let alone what your personal life was like and none of the guys would rat you out to parents they knew treated you badly. Remaining deep in thought you missed the following messages that he sent, not even realizing until you were in your room 20 minutes later.

They won’t tell the others if you’re scared of their reactions, baby. They wouldn’t hurt you like that.

I’m willing to tell everyone we’re together if that’s what you want.

I know this is new to you, I don’t want to push you baby.

Are you overthinking again?

I’m guessing from the silence you are, I'll give you some time then.

Staring at the messages you weren't sure how to react. You had been on one date with Felix. You had kissed him a handful of times and you had shared a bed when you had gotten caught in the rain. But the futhest he had gotten with you was making out and he had even apologized about moving to fast when you had. But the fact that he had called you his girlfriend and told you repeatedly he was serious about you didn’t change thee fact that neither of you had actually discussed it, he had told you he had said it to make girls feel less hurt when he turned them down and when he said it to you it was always unserious.

Felix, am I your girlfriend? Is that what this is? Or are you still just saying that to let other girls down gently?

You washed up and changed into some pajamas so you were ready to go to bed while you waited for him to reply with anxiety gripping at your chest as you waited for the little dots to show he was typing.

Will you give me that chance? I only want you no one else matters to me just you.

Before you could answer Felix you needed to know why Seungmin and Jeongin were comparing you and Felix to their previous roommate and Hyunjin and why it was some kind of sticking point for them and since you weren’t sure if you would get the full story from them you knew you would need to ask some of the others or even Felix before you could make a decision.

A/N: Thank you for reading my lovelies as always your support means the world to me xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz, @armystay89, @damnyouficc, @roamingpolar, @bakedlilgoonie, @shiy, @is2cb97, @beautifulixr, @skyhold-tara, @army-stay-noel, @skizzel-reblogs, @facelesswrittes, @animehideout, @mrsseals16, @honey-pop, @fawnpeaks, @leeknowinggg, @uno7, @seungminluv3, @obeythemasters, @tanzen-ist-gold, @thicccurls @juskz @3rachasninja @reiheis @partyparty-yah @leeknowyah @warren-thedarkangel

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kithtaehyung · 2 years

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anytime (3tan) (m) | myg

title: anytime pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: your brother is finally back. which makes for a bunch of conflicting worries that you may need to address. warnings: angst, yoongi in general lol, lots of dialogue i’m so sorry, tae being a menace, yoongi on the phone, 3tan sibling scenes!!, thinking thinking, jimin being jimin, masturbation, dirty talk, sl*t mentions, did i say yoongi on the phone?, alcohol, house party, so many interactions, just… yoongi🥺 note: ah.. well. it’s finally here. thank you endlessly to @sugakookitty for being the angel beta you are, and thank you all for being so patient and understanding as i worked on this while still recovering from the writing process of dalo! i know it’s been a minute, so. i worked like hell on this the past week. if you haven’t read any of the three tangerines series yet, i highly recommend reading those first! it will make so much more sense lol note 2: saving the rest of my thoughts for the end bc i have many! just enjoy :D total word count: 16k+ release date: july 23rd, 2022, 2:17pm est

Back to normal.

With the coming of one, singular sunrise, everything has gone back to normal.

Curling your fingers into worn sheets, you stare unblinking at the space once occupied. At the way the material has bunched in frozen peaks and valleys, previously crinkled by passion and loudly unspoken feelings.

Whatever transpired just hours ago will be imprinted on your soul forever. You may even wear it on your sleeve, if only to remind yourself that something shifted between the hours of suspense and shelter.

Because Yoongi didn’t just let you into his place last night.

He let you into his heart.

Through his actions, his decisions, his words. All of them served as a door, his eyes the windows that couldn’t lie about what they contained.

You don’t know much still. And you will come to deny a lot more. But one thing is for sure: since you stepped foot inside, you aren’t sure if you’re ready to leave just yet.

Or ever.

Fucking hell, your chest feels so hollow it’s a wonder you’re still functioning—

“Yoongi? What are you doing here?”

Your eyes snap to your open doorway.

“Sup.”

What.

Catapulting yourself out of bed, you’re already warring with yourself on whether to go out there or not. Because what the fuck is happening?

Why is Yoongi still here?

You skid to a halt at your entryway, as if the edge of a cliff is millimeters from your toes.

It may as well be. You seem to be in freefall already.

Bits of conversation can be heard from where you stand, and you strain your ears to pick up every single word you can grab from down the hall.

“—happening?”

“Relax. Something went down last night.”

“What the fuck. Here?”

“Dalo.”

“The fuck happened? Why didn’t anyone—”

“Jimin took care of it.”

Your brows could kiss from being so close.

What the hell is going on?

One, why is Yoongi talking so calmly? Two and three and four, why isn’t your brother as loud as you thought he’d be?

“He was there, too?”

“Yeah. But she’s okay. I’ll head out now.”

Fuck fuck fuck your heart is already suffering from how you woke up. Because you never got a chance to say goodbye.

And now it’s gonna happen a second time?

Do you step out? Do you stay there? Can you handle either one of those options?

Your feet are already moving on their own accord, oversized shirt slightly catching in the wind you make in your approach.

Wait, when did you even put clothes on? You don’t remember a single thing after…

Stop. You can’t worry about that now. Right at this moment, you just need to see him.

Because you don’t know when you’ll get another chance.

Their voices are a lot clearer the closer you get to the main hallway.

“K. You good?”

“What? Yeah.”

“Okay. Thanks for looking out, dude. Fuck.”

“No sweat. Apparently she didn’t even need us. Almost fought him herself.”

You freeze midstep as your brother huffs a small sound.

“That right?”

“Yeah, Chim was saying something like that.”

“Good to know. She could whoop my ass if she wanted to, honestly.”

Yoongi’s hum of amusement is nothing but agreeable. “She should.”

“Bitch. Outta my house.”

They both laugh and start saying goodbye, which pulls your feet into the hall completely. Standing. Staring. Probably an absolute wreck but you don’t care.

Yoongi’s shoulder taps your brother’s before he spots you, and you can tell that he didn’t expect you to be awake.

All the oxygen is yanked from your lungs as his eyes still on your awaiting form, but you can’t do anything because you get another look and greeting,

“Morning!”

“Morning,” you croak, voice chipped and hollow.

Eyes sliding back to Yoongi, you wanna say a lot more than that. But words are all competing against each other and clogging up your throat—because you can’t.

How do you thank someone for being so perfect? How do you show what you want to say without confessing something no one else present should hear?

An entire glossary of terms jams inside your teeth, black letters staining your tongue. In the end, you settle with,

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Your airway seizes. Ducts burn.

Don’t react. You cannot. No matter how hard your heart is clenching right now, you cannot make this seem like anything more than gratitude.

Despite it being so, enormously more than that.

You nod, which Yoongi takes as a cue to regard your brother. “See ya.”

“We’ll catch up later.”

Your overnight guardian agrees with a nod of his own, and you wonder if he thought about looking at you one more time before departing, or didn’t think about it at all.

When the door shuts, it’s like a switch that triggers you to spin around and head back to your—

“Hey, come here.”

Goddamn it.

“Hold on,” you rush out as you back around a corner, palms rubbing your eyes before steeling your lack of any resolve. After seconds, you make your way back to the front.

Only to get crushed in a hug, arms encasing and smushing you into a fresh tee.

Because of what happened, because your heart is in halves, or because of your brother being the stupid, soft idiot he is sometimes, you don’t push him away. Maybe it’s all three and something extra. But you exhale deep, feet still, trying incredibly hard to not to show anymore tears.

“Sorry I wasn’t there.”

Brows pinched, you shift your head. “You would’ve gotten arrested.”

“Did you have a good time before that?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good, at least.”

Though the moment is needed, something feels odd.

Normally, this would be the part where he goes back to his normal, judgmental, assumptive self. Something about “you were still there” or “you still could’ve avoided it somehow.”

But he doesn’t say anything like that this time.

What’s up with him?

Breathing in, you smell his familiar cologne before asking, “Isn’t this the part where you yell at me.”

“Oh, I’m fucking pissed,” he admits before loosening his hold. “But nah, not at you.”

“Good. Because I’ll just yell at you, too,” you sigh. After he scoffs, you extricate yourself and add, “If I wasn’t so tired.”

“You okay, though?”

“Yeah.” You step away and he lets you, and you use that opening to head into the kitchen.

Do you feel like cooking? No. But it’ll be a good distraction. From how you feel, from last night, and from this already strange morning.

“You sure?”

Opening the fridge, you take some things out while repeating, “Yeah. Yoongi and Jimin were there.”

“I heard.”

You set down all your items, moving to fetch a pan as your brother leans against a counter with his arms crossed. Interest somewhat piqued, you wonder why he’s burning holes into the perfectly fine tile.

Why is he acting like this? Why hasn’t he even asked about Yoongi?

“What were you wearing?”

“Excuse me?”

There he is.

“Was it what you wore—”

“You know damn well what I wore doesn’t matter, so quit asking,” you bite, slamming the pan down a lot harder than you intended. Or just as hard.

Infuriating. Even though your brother is overprotective as fuck, he should know better than that. Wasn’t he just asking if you had fun? What did any of this have to do with your outfit?

“Shit, sorry,” he backtracks, face scrunched and a palm digging divots into his forehead. “I just—I’m jet lagged and pissed but you’re right.”

After chucking some food scraps in the pan, the sizzles that spring forth serve as the only sounds in the kitchen. Hints of hot butter bloom around your cheeks, and you contain your need to aim daggers your brother’s way, knowing that his fuse should run out in due time.

Both of your attitudes should change as soon as the meal is ready anyway.

Finally sparing him a glance, you notice that he’s still angry with the floor, cheek prodded in deep thought and brows set in a peculiar line.

Hmm. He could just be pissed this happened while he was out of town.

But something still seems really weird. Odd. Like you have all the right pieces but they’re for a completely different puzzle.

Turning the burner low, you take a nearby electric kettle from its stand. “What’s up with you?”

Your sibling’s eyes follow as you fill the glass container. “Nothing,” he mutters. “Just tired.”

“How about this,” you offer, back to setting the kettle down and starting it with a click. “I let you eat all the food, and you let me know the truth.”

“About what?”

The conversation you heard between him and Yoongi was way too suspicious. How did he not even flinch at Jimin being involved? Wouldn’t he question it just a tiny bit that both Yoongi and Jimin were with you? At a club, no less?

Nothing makes sense.

“About what’s on your mind,” you finally respond, voice heavy with exhaustion.

It’s a wonder you’re even awake. The lingering effects of last night hang onto you like bricks, both from your body and from your overworked brain.

Truthfully, you want nothing more but to sleep and forget about everything for the time being. “But if you really don’t wanna tell me, then whatever.”

Your brother just watches as you divvy the food into two servings instead of one, bringing them to a familiar table backed against familiar windows. When you turn, the slight scrape of a chair follows as he sits at his usual spot, and it’s quiet as you pour some tea.

Just like you have every time he comes back from a trip.

You don’t know when that started becoming tradition. But it has become instinct at this point. Just one of the few things you do as a family, whether it’s in the early, dewy hours of morning, or when even birds are fast asleep.

Steam spirals from his cup as you set it down with a heavy clunk. Taking your usual spot adjacent to him, you scoot your chair in. Not particularly doing anything else.

“Thanks.”

“Mmhmm.”

Neither of you move to eat.

Work crawls just as slow as your mind does, with the sludge of all your thoughts and worries jamming its various gears.

What do you do now? How are you supposed to feel after an unforgettable week you can’t get back?

You said yourself that things will go back to normal. But saying something is a hell of a lot easier than actually living it because you feel ridiculously incomplete. One check in the mirror would show that you’re all in one piece, sure.

But on the inside?

Your chest is both a lot heavier and a lot lighter than it used to be. Like a significant part of you has been replaced with solid stone.

How that’s possible, you can’t even begin to fathom.

Retreating to the bathrooms, you shut yourself in a stall and fish out your phone, staring at a lockscreen that shows no notifications that have your heartbeat skipping.

Can you even text him?

No, right? Yes? Maybe?

If he’s at work, he’d be way too busy to just text. But if you send something weighty, he may not respond to that, either. If he’s with your brother, that could result in a talk you don’t wanna have yet.

Ugh.

Why is this even harder now!

But Yoongi said he’d figure something out. Knowing him—because you’d like to think you do now, to some degree—he wouldn’t just say that for nothing. He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it.

Still… The mere notion of texting someone shouldn’t make you go through a mental maze.

Squeezing your eyes in frustration, you decide to let your fingers write for you.

Only to find out that they’re just as indecisive.

You [typing]: hi

You:

You [typing]: hi old man

You:

You [typing]: hey

You:

Hearing someone come in, you click your phone shut, sighing before lugging your heavy heart back to work.

And it’s the most un-Friday Friday you’ve ever been through.

“Door’s open!”

Upon entering Taehyung’s place, you’re immediately hit with the smell of bread.

Is he making his signature sandwiches? You would’ve asked him to make you one if you hadn't arrived with lunch.

Have to repay him for his favor, after all.

Why does that feel so long ago?

Setting your bag on his couch, you catch sight of him in the kitchen a half-room over. “Hey, Tae. I’m paying up.”

Immediately, he whips his head around. After eyeing the bag you put on his coffee table, a dramatic groan sails out of his mouth. “Damn it.”

“What?”

He looks at you before observing something you can’t see. But it turns out that your assumptions were correct. “I just wasted a shit ton of jelly.”

A laugh escapes as you start taking out what you brought, paper bag obnoxiously loud. “Just leave it for dessert!”

“Nope. It’s best fresh.”

You pause. “Then have that instead?”

“But I want your food now.”

Damn it, Taehyung. You massage your forehead out of necessity, knowing you will never fully understand this man’s brain. “Okay,” you relent. “Bring it over, I’ll eat it.”

Both of you settle onto his sofa after he grabs some plates. While searching for a movie, he runs through everything you told him on the way from work,

“So he took you back to his place.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Took you home.”

“Yeah.”

“And stayed.”

“…Yeah.”

“Well…” Your friend leans back, raking dark bangs away from his forehead. After a pause so long that it makes you nervous, he breaks, “Shit.”

“I know,” you sigh, staring at the small, weighty to-go rice in your hand. “He did so much.”

“I mean…” While you’re still stewing in contemplation, he hunches forward to grab a hefty portion of noodles. And when he continues, it’s nothing like you expect,

“Pretty sure that means he’s yours.”

Fuck.

The box in your hand almost hits the floor. Heart beating in over-over-overdrive, you find it hard to process any coherent thoughts. “Be serious,” you shoot out, fingers tight around the container.

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

“The bar was already low, mister fresh jelly.”

Taehyung simply turns to aim a smirk your way. “You’re the one that put it there, Missus Min.”

And he bursts into laughter when you hide your face behind the rice.

“Shut up, please,” you groan, earning even more hearty chuckles from your best friend.

“No! You’re so gone, look at you!”

Sighing in a mix of embarrassment and pain, you set the box down and start gathering your own food. “It’s not like that, Tae. We’re not together, remember?”

The sound he makes is enough to show how convinced he is. “I’m not even the one in your situation and I’m swooning. How can you not see what’s happening?”

“It’s not that I can’t.”

“Then what?”

“It’s that I shouldn’t,” you whisper, moving stuff around your plate. “Even if we were a thing… we’d have to just sneak around. Like damn kids.”

While you’re wallowing in your own thoughts, Taehyung sits in silence, too. The movie he finally settled on rolls the beginning sequence, but neither of your gazes fall anywhere close to the screen.

After awhile, you hear him comment, “Sneaking around… Ah, that’ll break you.”

There’s a weight attached to his words, and your eyes can’t help but follow them to the floor.

Why does it feel like he’s talking to more than just you? He’s been acting pretty shady the past week. Or is that just you projecting your own sneaky behavior?

Well. Inconspicuous or not, it’s not going great.

Exhaling, you slowly admit, “Jimin already knows.”

Taehyung’s sudden stare makes you wince.

“I don’t know how,” you sigh onto your food. “But that night, Yoongi just said that he knows. I don’t know how the fuck that happened unless he said something, but. I also don’t see why he’d do that.”

“Umm.”

You turn.

“That’s on me.”

“What?” Completely thrown, your jaw unhinges from betrayal. “You told him? You snitched?”

“No! No.” In his haste to placate, Taehyung bites his lip and sighs, hand patting the sofa in defeat. “Not exactly.”

“Then how…”

“He was here. The night Reia called me.” He claws through his hair, a little rougher than last time. As his bangs sway forward in rebellious waves, you wonder if there’s more to the story he tells. “When I had to cover for you.”

“Oh.”

“It was weird. He was actually flipping out when they said you weren’t responding.”

Wait. Jimin? Why the hell would he do that? If anything, you’d think he would just sit around and watch everything unfold with amusement. “What the? Why?”

“I dunno. I was obviously dealing with a lot so I didn’t really process, but. After I hung up, he kept asking me where you were.” He shrugs. “So I told him where you could be.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much, actually. He looked… Fine? Then obviously he connected the dots, so. Pretty sure he suspects at least something now.” He inspects his nails before choosing one to bite, a habit he still hasn’t grown out of. “Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you quickly assure, wondering what any and all of this could mean. While some things make sense now, there’s even more questions coming to the forefront. “I’m just confused.”

“Same.”

Why did Jimin react like that? Why did he question Tae where you were? It makes practically zero sense, just like his little tease before the intramural game.

Now you really need to know what the fuck happened there. If you get the opportunity to find out, you’re not letting it escape.

But first…

You flash a smug look at your best friend.

“So… Jimin, huh?”

And he stops biting to aim big eyes your way. Then forward.

“It’s complicated.”

You:

You [typing]: thank you

You:

“Oh, my god, hi!”

“Hey, Yuri,” you sigh into your phone. As you drop your bag onto your bedroom floor, you apologize, “Sorry I didn’t answer earlier.”

Her voice is enough to penetrate through your other ear, so you set the device on speaker before tossing it on your comforter.

“No worries! Just wanted to check on you.”

Comfy clothes. You need to be in comfortable clothes as quick as possible. As much as you love Taehyung, his insistence that you come straight from work meant prolonging your discomfort.

You shuck your work garments off while halfway responding, “I’m fine.”

“Okay… You don’t really sound like it, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh again, pulling a tee over your head.

You still haven’t gotten anything from Yoongi. There’s barely any fight in your bones right now. “But it’s whatever.”

“I’m sorry. Did something happen last night? Do you wanna talk about it?”

Classic Yuri with the onslaught of questions. Always wanting to kn—

Wait.

What did she ask?

Jimin didn’t tell them?

Huh.

You just figured he said what went down before rallying them to leave Dalo. The fact that he didn’t say anything strikes you as a little out of character.

Well. Now paired with what Tae mentioned… Maybe something should make sense here.

“Babe? I’m so sorry if I’m being annoying.”

“Oh, fuck, my bad,” you rush out. “You aren’t. I just thought you all knew.”

“Well, maybe they know. I was just way too drunk.”

“Ah, yeah.” A chuckle leaves your mouth. “Damn, you were gone gone.”

She elongates her agreement before adding a bit of explanation,

“It’s all Rohan’s fault.”

Exaggerating a sigh, you shake your head as you flop onto your bed. “Do I need to draw swords?”

Her laugh always reminds you of bubbles. Pretty bubbles that fill grassy backyards and playgrounds with pops of delicate rainbows.

“No, I’m kidding. He actually… Umm. He asked me out.”

“What!” Air rushes around you as you shoot up on your elbow, moving to change the call into a videocall instead.

Another laugh erupts before the call is switched, and you stare right into Yuri’s frustratingly perfect skin as she’s walking down a hallway. “Bitch!” you yell. “When!”

“Wait, hold on.” Her smile is all you see until she enters a room, and the movements make it through your phone before she answers, “Earlier today!”

“How?” You’re so delighted that your smile is genuine, ears perked and ready to hear every little thing about how this all happened. “What did you say?”

“I didn’t think you’d be this invested,” she giggles before sitting on her bed. Propping her phone on what you think is a pillow—or one of her many plushies—she fixes her hair while continuing, “You usually just tolerate stuff like this.”

“I mean,” you stutter, realizing that she’s right. You never truly bought into all the mushy stuff since your experience with relationships isn’t exactly sunshine. Rainbows? Yeah. But not much sunshine.

Not until recently, at least. “True, but. I really am happy for you.”

“Thank you,” she squeals, expression a mix of gratitude and delight. You can tell she wanted to talk about it but held back, which makes her storytelling even more special. “It just— I was so surprised! He took me to this super fancy place, right? And then he even bought me a ring—”

“A ring? When’s the wedding?”

“Okay, I flipped out at it, too, but! He said he just really wanted to get it for me.”

“Damn.” Your curve is warm. “That’s fucking cute.”

“I hate him actually,” she whispers, to which you chuckle at while feeling like your chest has suddenly caved in. “Maybe your little mystery man will do something, too!”

And an overwhelming feeling of sadness swallows you whole.

“Maybe,” you murmur, heart slowly bleeding out of the cracks Tae warned you about. “Maybe.”

“Oh, I’m also inviting everyone over tomorrow. Can you come?”

“Yeah, that sounds—” You stop when you hear the front opening, and your brother’s voice is distinguishable even through your bedroom door.

Looking at the time to see how many hours you have left to wallow in suffering, you sulk after you count. Desperate and slightly melancholy, you ask, “Actually, can I just come over now?”

“And spend the night? Duh!” Yuri gets up and goes out of frame, but you can still hear her. “Mom’ll be happy to see you again. And she’s been making mandu all day, so. Hope you’re hungry.”

You could cry.

Dumplings?

Comfort food is exactly what you need right now.

“Starving,” you manage through a half-smile. “I can leave whenever.”

“Then hurry up!” She finally reappears in the frame with more casual clothes, and you wonder if you caught her just as she was coming home from her date. “We aren’t done talking about mystery man. I have so many questions.”

You fake a groan, brain churning with mixed emotions.

Of course you wanna scream about him from multiple rooftops. But you also just yearn to talk about him openly at all, and the fact that you can’t has you shutting yourself in a proverbial basement.

“Okay, okay,” you acquiesce anyway—as usual. “Be there soon.”

After you both end the call, it doesn’t take you too long to pack. You don’t necessarily need to change, either, so you’re vacating your room in no time.

Voices spill into the hallway as you make your way to the door.

“Going to—”

Stopping in your strides, your bag swings into your thigh while you count four pairs of eyes. Two of them you recognize as people in your brother’s friend circle, and one of them…

Mystery man himself.

“Oh. Hi, guys.”

They all greet you in varying volumes, with Yoongi simply throwing a look over his shoulder from his seat on the couch.

How the fuck does he look better each time you see him?

Turning to your brother—definitely not to stare too hard at someone else in the room—you announce, “I’m staying at Yuri’s.”

“K. You eat yet?”

Your hand connects with the doorknob but your shoulders spring up in excitement. “No, but her mom’s making mandu,” you giddily respond, stretching out the ending syllable in singsong.

One of the guys shouts from his chair, “Hey, bring some back!”

“No!” You laugh as your brother does, because he already knows what you’re gonna say. “I never share dumplings.”

“It’s true.”

“Dumplings sound good as fuck.”

“Why do you think I want some?”

“Okay, I’m really leaving now,” you huff through a smile before sparing one last glance at Yoongi.

And the slight, upward lift of his mouth makes your pulse jump.

Good sign. That’s a good sign, right?

You really hope they don’t notice how incredibly shy you become. “Have fun.”

“See ya!”

“Bye!”

“Later!”

With their goodbyes on your ankles, you head out the door, exhaling like you just ran a marathon.

The night at Yuri’s is refreshing, with her mom doting on you and having you eat until you can’t move from the dining table. After a comforting, talkative meal, you’re able to speak somewhat freely about things in the plush castle that Yuri calls her bed.

You tell her what happened at Dalo, to which she hugs you tight enough to squeeze out some tears. And you tell her about your so-called mystery man, if only to bring her out of the sad funk your scare put her in.

And with each wholesome scenario, you see her perk back up to normal. There’s still some lingering pity and understanding in her eyes—understandable and relatable—so you decide to tell her more than you initially intended.

Remembering everything the two of you did together, though, it’s no wonder you feel a vast emptiness in your chest. Whatever happened during this week will be remembered for years and, even if that is all you get with Yoongi, it can be enough. More than enough.

Or can it?

An outright squeal causes you to retreat into your shell. “You’re so in love!”

“Shh!”

“What! You totally are.”

Covering your entire face with one of Yuri’s plushies, your muffled reminder is the same you gave Taehyung, “We aren’t even a thing.”

“Yeah, right. You’re practically married.”

The stuffed hamster quickly ends up in her face.

Giggling, she clutches it in her arms while being downright ridiculous. “I bet you even picture yourself having his kids.”

What?

Your mind fizzes, bubbling with a million scenarios you hadn’t even thought of yet and all of them are giving you grief.

Could you really? Something like that? Why is the answer already solidifying in your mind?

You’re so caught up in Yuri’s earlier statement that the next one almost goes unheard.

“Mystery guy would do anything for you. And I don’t blame him at all.” She runs a couple fingers through her hair, eyes viewing stars beyond her canopy. “He probably would’ve lost his shit if he saw—”

Her pause ends when she turns your way. “Oh, crap. Sorry if—”

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “You’re probably right.”

“Sorry. I’m still upset just thinking about it. I would’ve lost my shit, too.”

“Jimin was there. As far as mystery man, I dunno.” You readjust yourself on your side to face her, but your eyes stay glued to her sheets. “All my exes moved on pretty damn quick, so. Who’s to say he won’t.”

“Probably him.”

It’s so spot on that your breath catches in your throat.

How are things so obvious to her? Are they this obvious to everyone else and you’re simply the only one blocking yourself from what’s really going on?

This is some mental punishment for consistently being told or shown you’re not worth someone’s time, isn’t it? Isn’t it?

Why the fuck do all your exes get this much power over you?

Voice tiny, you finally whisper, “If you say so.” You go to grab another plushie, hugging it and finding comfort in its fluff. “I’m just still unsure about the whole thing.”

“I was, too. But… Rohan saying something first made me realize that I could’ve done the same. And we probably would’ve been happier a lot sooner.”

“Why didn’t you before again? He’s older or something?”

Yuri sighs before brushing nonexistent hair on her plush. “Mm, that was part of it. Really, I was just worried people wouldn’t, umm. Accept him? I guess?”

As she laughs to herself, she doesn’t see the look on your face. “But honestly… Who really cares, anyway? He’s a good guy. And why should I care, you know?”

If only you were as strong. You feel like you’re witnessing a champion, cheering Yuri on from the sidelines as she overcomes all obstacles to break the final ribbon.

Because she’s gone through shit similar to yours. So to see her conquer her past makes your future just a bit brighter. “I’m happy for y’all.”

“Thanks!” She grins, adorably puffing her cheeks on her beloved hamster. “I’m rooting for you both, too.”

Swallowing, you only nod, not a single word daring to run out of your mouth.

Can you also do it, though? Make it to your own finish line?

Maybe.

But you don’t even know if you have one yet.

You:

You [typing]: i

You:

You [typing]: sgskgskdl

You:

The neighborhoods in your town haven’t changed much.

Aside from the trees being taller, almost everything else is the same. Cracks still residing in the same sidewalks; kids still riding the same bikes; one random elderly on their front porch still eyeing everything with suspicion.

Even the people seem to have stayed. You still recognize a good amount of them as you and your friends currently traverse down one of the worn, sunny sidewalks.

While Reia and Yuri laugh about something together up ahead, you and Dom lag behind to people watch.

“Mm, there goes Missus Gata again.”

“Is it really still Missus?”

“It is. But are you surprised?”

“No.”

Both of you politely raise your arms in greeting, watching as the older lady moves on to water another rosebush.

From your friend’s hard angles and posture, you can tell that she isn’t done with you after your alarming confession to her and Reia. After they arrived at Yuri’s, it wasn’t long before you were told to let them know what happened, since apparently they weren’t briefed on it, either.

But you don’t expect her to talk about it so soon—and in broad daylight.

“So that really happened? At Dalo?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I am not.”

Though her mouth forms shapes, she doesn’t offer anything else, shaking her head and biting her lip instead.

You use the heated pause to point out, “I’m just shocked Jimin didn’t say anything.”

“Honestly? I’m a little glad he didn’t. Because I would’ve hunted that motherfucker down.”

“Hey!”

The two of you look ahead to see Yuri wave before pointing, and you follow her hand to one of the small playgrounds dotting the area.

It seems even that area hasn’t changed. You still see the familiar swing set, jungle gym, and seesaw taking residence there.

Since it’s currently vacant, all four of you walk up to different structures, with Reia and Yuri taking the swings and you and Dom the central climbing gym.

Heart heavy, you wonder if you can say what’s been plaguing your mind since yesterday. The others are far enough away to not hear what you’re about to disclose, right? And Dom would know to keep it down.

But is outside really the right place for something like this?

You make a decision as your friend steps onto the first couple platforms. Feet planted, you squint up and admit,

“That wasn’t everything that happened.”

Immediately, Dominique turns to face you, brows scrunched in waiting.

Huffing, you grab onto a pole to lift yourself onto the steps. The metal is warm instead of scorching hot, and you briefly wonder if the paint is new.

Focusing, you continue as you follow Dom up to the top level of the gym, “He took me back to his place. Made sure I was good.”

“Mm. How’d that go.”

Over the creaks of swings and loud laughter, you give your friend a rundown of how the night went. How Yoongi never left your side until you said it was okay; how he told you it wasn’t your fault; how he drove you home and surprisingly stayed the whole night.

You leave out the more intimate parts, but Dom is still rooted in her opinion.

“What did I tell you? It’s far from over.”

Looking down at the rest of the playground, you lean on a bright railing and sigh, “He hasn’t said anything since he left.”

“Have you?”

You wince. “…No.”

A snort pings off your shoulder, and you watch as Dom joins you, looking at the others with sun-narrowed eyes. “Well. I’m no expert on his type, but. I don’t think he’s gonna say anything until you do.”

Your lips purse as you agree in silence. That’s what you’ve been thinking was the case, which makes your indecisiveness even harder to deal with.

And yet, you still haven’t gotten rid of the little devil wedged deep inside your ear. “But what if he’s just… I dunno, moved on already?”

“Oh, come on. Really?”

“Fuck, okay. Fine,” you easily bow out, knowing your doubts are getting less and less traction. Things are finally starting to sink in, especially after Dalo—and your conversations from yesterday.

Pushing off the metal, you grip it until heat permeates your palms. “But it’s complicated. Like, I know there’s something there. But I also don’t get it, you know?”

“Oh, you get it. You just don’t want to. Cus you’re scared of what it really is.”

“Maybe,” you muse, leaning forward again as a merciful cloud blocks the Sun. “But. It’s not like anything can happen anyway.”

“Why not? Look at me and tell me why you both can’t just date already.”

You freeze, the words said aloud enough to ignite your entire body. A brief skip or two punctures your chest, and you feel every limb liquifying into mush all at once.

Finish line. Is that your finish line?

But no one else is in your situation. So no one else would understand why your course is a bit more complicated than others.

Turning, you nudge your chin into the crook of your elbow. “Because… Well, what if it doesn’t work out? What if there’s a fallout and my brother gets involved?” Sorrow overpowers hope on your tongue as you avert your gaze. “I don’t want them to suffer because of me.”

“What if it does work out? What if everything is completely fine?”

You flash your eyes back upward.

Dom sighs before she crosses her forearms. “Listen. I’m gonna need you to fight that stubborn ass head of yours and think about this for a second. Yeah, it could be messy. But is that enough to stop you from trying?”

Well. Your head is undoubtedly stubborn.

But it’s even more difficult when it goes by precedence.

“All my exes have been messy. I don’t want to do that to him, too. What if it’s me?”

Your deprecation is knocked off the climbing gym by a scoff. “What? Girl. What are you even saying? That dude blew off the entire neighborhood. For you.”

“Dom, please,” you beg as she straightens. “I don’t—”

“Do you miss him?”

“What?”

“Don’t what me. Do you miss him.”

Your eyes once again find the playground floor, drifting over to the untouched seesaw.

If only your mind was that still.

Sighing, you answer, “Yeah.”

“Exactly. And it’s been, what, two days?” You hear nails tap the railing in fed up metallic pings. “How would it feel if it was a month? Fuck it, a year? What then?”

“I’d…” You let your answer fade, not knowing how it was going to end anyway.

Because before, you were completely okay not hearing about Yoongi for months at a time. Seeing him once while back home was just a passing event—albeit a handsome one—so the time between didn’t really affect you.

But now?

Thinking about that same scenario feels like how agony must taste. No matter how many times you swallow, you can’t seem to get the suffering out of your mouth.

So you readily admit, “It would hurt so fucking much.”

“Exactly. And I bet you everything that he would feel the same.”

Dom leaves your high perch after that, and you lift your head before clanging after her to another section of the structure. “He hasn’t even said anything, though.”

“Neither have you! Both of you haven’t.” When she comes to the edge of a sturdy bridge, she looks over her shoulder to add, “At least he has an excuse.”

While you join her on the blocks, you ask what she means.

“He probably doesn’t want your brother catching on or something.” Finding a spot to settle in the very middle, the two of you lean on the rails to watch cars drive past a ways away. “I hate this whole let-them-talk-first shit he’s pulling, but. It kinda makes sense this time.”

Not encased by towers, it’s easier for your voices to get lost in the open summer air. Your mind seems to clear a bit, too, if only to be a little more accepting.

Because Dominique’s argument has made the most sense thus far. “What do I even say?”

“I dunno. Hi? I miss you? I love you and I’m an idiot?”

And the amount of sense plummets to zero. “Dom!”

“What? I’m right!”

Tripped up by a new phrase that has your heart gasping, you think the bridge is swaying a lot more than it truly is. Swaying, rocking, twisting, looping. You may as well be on a rollercoaster with the array of emotions you feel spiraling across your veins.

Nope. There’s no way.

You brace yourself and think about more concrete things. Concepts that you can grasp in the present.

And suddenly, texting Yoongi doesn’t sound difficult after all.

“I could just say hi and see what happens.”

Your logical friend turns to look at you before providing more advice, “Don’t overthink this. Just initiate. Every other time, he better commit.”

A smile finally graces your face as you softly nudge her with an elbow. “Look at you,” you joke. “You warming up to him?”

“I never said that.”

Her laugh joins yours after a second, and the calm silence that follows reminds you of every summer you’ve ever lived.

When the curve of your grin starts to fade, Dom’s voice floats on the breeze once again. “Look. All I’m saying is… He makes you happier than I’ve ever seen you. And I think that’s cus he makes you happy with yourself.”

Well.

Fuck.

Your mouth sets into a bittersweet line, feelings threatening the corners of your eyes. As an impossible memory of another playground comes to mind, you sigh, “He does, Dom.”

She slings an arm around you, tone even more airy and fleeting. “What can I say? I’m always right.”

“Almost always,” you correct, happy to defend Yoongi just as your friend did minutes prior. “Since he isn’t the same as you thought.”

“Y’all! Let’s get ice cream!”

Both you and Dom peer down from your perch before she yells, “Don’t have to tell me twice!”

Voice soft, she whispers to your unsuspecting friends below.

“With you? Yeah.”

You look her way.

“So what does that tell you?”

You [typing]: hey

You:

You [typing]: how’ve you been?

You:

You [7:17pm]: hi

After a fun but tiring weekend, you make the trip back home to your brother settling onto the couch.

Shucking your bag off, you take out a plastic baggie filled with frozen dumplings that you got sent home with. Because no matter how profusely you refused, your stubbornness is no match for a mom’s insistence.

Your sibling throws a look over the sofa. “Damn, how many are in there?”

“I dunno but they’re all for me!”

He laughs before turning back to face the TV, head shaking at your unwavering selfishness. “Well, save those for later. I got food.”

“Yeah, yeah, I was gonna.”

In minutes, your prized possessions fill the freezer and your stuff occupies your room.

A movie you vaguely remember from childhood is on, but your attention isn’t too focused on it as you grab a plate. Instead, you find yourself staring at your lock screen, conveniently hidden from sight by your thigh.

No messages.

This really is so much harder.

“How’ve you been?”

“Ehh, good,” you respond at your untouched meal. “I have an interview soon.”

He munches while staying fixated on the television. “Oh, yeah? Where at?”

“Downtown.”

“Damn, nice.” Scarfing down another bite, he continues, “I was wondering if you were gonna go for another gig.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, pushing your food in various directions. Even though it smells delicious and inviting, anxiety about the upcoming interview sinks its talons in your brain. It being a Sunday certainly doesn’t help, either. “I’m just ready for a change. At least you’re smart and found a sick job right out of school.”

You wish you could be like your brother: successful, uncompromising, also seemingly lucky. To see him finding success at every turn makes you feel unaccomplished, despite having a good amount of achievements yourself.

He just seems more driven than you. While it’s admirable, it’s also slightly demotivating. Because you feel like you won’t ever reach that same potential. Like an ink stamp of his persona—never fully transferred.

“I mean, that’s a way to sum it up, but.” He sets his food on his lap, suddenly quiet. “Not really how I saw it.”

You watch as he adjusts the watch on his wrist, admiring its craftsmanship with a determined stare. “I knew I had to support us somehow. Couldn’t settle for just anything.”

“I know.”

There he goes again, shouldering everything himself. No matter how much he’s done or how hard he’s worked, he never holds his efforts over your head.

Truly, the only glaring fault he has is his protectiveness, which even then is hard to argue with considering the circumstances.

He just needs to know he shouldn’t worry so much.

“And honestly, the pay raise was the only reason I took that promotion. The travel is nice, but…”

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” You set your plate down on the coffee table, fully deciding to not eat just yet. “I’m an adult, you know. Survived being away for school, right?”

“Yeah. But… I just. I feel sick thinking about what happened.”

“Well. So do I.” You rest your elbows on your knees, eyes burning into the ground. “But I’m here. Yoongi and Jimin… Even if they weren’t there, I would’ve found a way out.”

“What happened anyway?”

“Umm.” You swallow. One would think a story like this should be easy to tell on the third go. But not for you. “All I remember is Jimin getting me after I shook the guy off. Then Yoongi… He brought me home.”

Trying not to show emotion at a time where your heart isn’t quite operating should be an Olympic sport. You can feel its heavy thumps with every syllable as you finally continue, “And stayed until you got here. Apparently.”

For a moment, only the movie fills the living room with sound. Both of you sit in weighty silence as ponderous as your thoughts. Thinking, wondering, contemplating.

It’s him that breaks first. “I owe them.”

“Same.”

“They could've told me, though.”

You disagree, looking at the floor and checking your phone in the process. “And had you flipping shit, boarding the next flight for nothing? We were fine.”

“But what if you weren’t? You know I’d do that shit for real if I had to.”

“I know.”

“I got you.”

When you look up, you find your brother glaring straight through the screen. He’s clearly still bothered. But shouldn’t he just be happy that you’re okay?

You still don’t know why he hasn’t said a single thing about Yoongi being here.

Maybe… Just maybe—

You finally remember something. Something that had you raising your brows for a short period of time. Wondering what that could be about, you bring it up, “You said to call Yoongi, too. If I needed anything.”

That seems to snap him out of whatever headspace he was in. Turning to you, he asks, “I said that?”

“Yeah. Before you left.”

“Huh.” You watch as he looks down with furrowed brows. “Yeah, well. He’s my brother, so. Makes sense.”

Of course. They’re thick as thieves, him and Yoongi. He’s called him his brother multiple times before.

But it pricks the side of your heart just a bit this time.

“Speaking of that fucker, I feel like he’s seeing someone.”

You freeze, never having sweat accumulate so fast in your goddamn life. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s weird. He’s been quieter than usual. Just sucked into his phone.”

…His phone?

“Oh,” you croak before clearing your throat.

What the hell do you say? How would you respond to this conversation normally, let alone having an inside scoop? It’s borderline awkward.

“I mean, he could be busy with work?”

“True. But I usually know if he’s serious with anyone. And he kept dipping out early this whole weekend.” He starts gathering his trash from the table before pausing. “Wait, you know where he works?”

Coughing again, you pivot, ignoring his weird look. “I meant, in general. I assume he’s a contributing member of society.”

Your brother just furrows his brows once before continuing his cleaning. “Yeah, he’s working on big shit, that’s for sure.” As he passes to throw his garbage away, you pick your phone up to flip it over. “Speaking of, I’m hosting another party here on Friday.”

Confused, your stare pins onto his back. “Seriously? Didn’t you just have people over last Friday?”

“It’s summer? And I have things called friends?”

“Can’t Jimin host?”

“Nah, his parents are back until next month,” he explains before chucking everything in your kitchen bin.

“Oh.”

“But, what I was gonna say was,” he smiles, walking back to the coffee table to grab his phone. “You’ll wanna be here for this one.”

“…Why?”

Wiggling his device at you, he vaguely responds with a mysterious, “You’ll see.”

You sigh, hoping it’s not just another excuse for you to stay home and cook. That’s what usually happens during big house parties at your place.

Well, the few times that weren’t outside cookouts. With a quick thought, you remember that it was usually Yoongi that grilled during those. “Okay… Can my friends come, too?”

“Yeah! I don’t care. A lot of people’ll be here.”

“K.”

“Eat.”

You end up not doing that, instead getting up to go to your room. There’s simply too much on your mind, from your interview to a certain person that you can’t shake off.

Hearing your brother talking about work didn’t help, either. You wanna be able to help financially, even if he never expressly asks. If you manage to snag this interview, it’s possible that you can start contributing.

“Hey, listen.”

You turn. “Huh?”

Filling the middle of the hall, he seems to be in the same deep pit of thoughts as before. “There’s something you should know.”

“About what?”

“About th—”

A knock on the front door causes you both to flinch. Eyeing your sibling, you watch as he goes to open it after offering, “I’ll tell you later.”

You furrow your brows but wait to see who knocked, tensing when you hear who your brother welcomes in.

“Hey.”

“Sup.”

What the hell.

This is the second time Yoongi’s appeared at your house—two more times than the amount of chances you’ve spoken to each other since Friday morning.

But you can’t act weird around him. Last time was almost bad enough. So while the door closes, you only ask them out of curiosity and nothing else, “What are y’all about to do?”

As Yoongi looks right at you, your sibling replies—way too nonchalantly, “Got people coming over soon.”

“Tonight, too?” Why! Since when was your house the hottest one on the block? Did they always go this hard while you were away?

You check your phone while commenting the obvious, “It’s Sunday!”

Undeterred, the boys move into the living room, and you trail after them as your brother asks, “And? It’s not like you have school tomorrow or some shit.”

“I work? And so do you?”

“Relax. It’ll be chill this time.”

You have no damn clue what chill means to him, but if people are already coming then you can’t exactly argue anymore.

Plus. Yoongi’s here now—which, quite frankly, is already making you feel better.

It’s magical, really. How he’s able to make you feel more at home in your own house.

Eyes rolled, you find compromise, “Fine. At least lemme make something so I can eat in my room in peace.”

“Uh uh, you just made a plate!”

“I don’t want that.”

“Wow.”

You dismiss him with a flick of your wrist. “I’ll put it in the fridge, don’t worry.”

“Whatever. Hurry up and cook then. They’ll mooch.”

“Of course they will,” you scoff, already walking into the kitchen. “Crackheads.”

You finally hear a small huff of amusement, and your mood perks from that one, comforting sound alone.

God, you miss hearing that as often as possible. Which was strangely a lot, considering it’s Yoongi.

How long has it been? A mere two days?

According to your heart, it’s been weeks.

Maybe that’s why you aren’t afraid to address the both of them when you ask over running water, “Actually, can I get a little help?”

Yoongi lifts his head to regard you immediately, while your brother cranes his neck from beside him. “Really?”

“Uhh, yes? Y’all would get some, too.” Catching sight of Yoongi’s expression, you think you see something in his eyes. Something unexplainable, but yet so, strangely familiar.

It’s almost enough to send your words tripping over one another as you dry your hands. “I just, umm. I don’t want anyone else eating my food so I wanna hurry.”

“Our food,” your sibling corrects as he watches his friend walk up before he does. “Yoong, you can chill.”

“It’s cool.”

“He’s a better cook than you,” you chide from the fridge, giddy that Yoongi’s taking your offer but wait oh fuck did you really just say that out loud goddamn it—

“Hey, that’s not fair! That’s only cus he hogs grilling duty every time.”

“Could’ve always helped, you know.”

“Nuance.”

Good. So either your brother didn’t catch that or just figured you knew from those cookouts and parties. Totally not from cooking alongside his best friend for the better part of a week. Cool.

Clearing your perfectly fine throat, you set some foodstuffs on the island with dull thumps, letting both of them know what you want done with each part of the meal.

“Damn! You aren’t feeding the whole party?”

“Nope.” You hope Yoongi realizes what you’re about to make, and you smile at the same ingredients you used to cook what he brought to the studio. “Just us.”

When you spare him a quick glance, there’s something in his expression. It’s small. It’s subtle. But it’s there.

And it’s enough to know that he might be missing you, too.

“Are y’all done cutting?”

“Yeah, almost.”

“K. Ready when you are.”

While they’re both busy by the sink and talking about various things, you’ve been nursing the pots and pans on the stove.

In typical you fashion, you did end up caving, deciding to make a lot so that more people could eat. Cooking and serving usually go hand in hand, and you do enjoy seeing when someone likes what you made.

Plus, you need an excuse to see Yoongi’s reaction this time, since you were robbed when he ate at the studio. You aren’t asking for much, right? All you have to do is stick around for a bit so you can get some closure.

A vibration could be heard from the island, and all three of you turn from your makeshift stations.

It’s your brother’s phone. “Ah, shit. Lemme take this.”

You watch as he wipes his hands before swiping his device, squashing it to his ear with a shoulder. As he passes you, he just tilts his head,

“You can put mine in.”

“You could’ve just—”

“Hey! Y’all coming tonight?”

Your scoff follows him around the corner.

Why do you even ask him for help? He always does this!

Whatever.

You move to grab his stuff only to see Yoongi a few steps away with it already.

“Where do you want these.”

Oh.

All you have to do is answer him. Truthfully, you could just point and that would be enough.

But you can’t. You can barely take another breath with him looking at you, dressed in a set that has you weak with bangs lingering dangerously over his eyes.

He’s right there.

And you feel like he couldn’t be further away.

Swallowing your misery, you finally move and gesture to a pot. “This one.”

Without pause, Yoongi walks up next to you, sliding everything in and putting the cutting board down with a clunk.

Spices fill your nose as sizzling tickles your ears, but all of your focus is on wondering what he’s gonna do next.

Is he gonna walk away now? Keep acting distant? Tell you to stop blatantly staring when your brother could walk back in at any—

“Sesame.”

A blink. “Huh?”

He turns to look at you before shifting his eyes to a slim bottle on the counter. “There’s sesame oil this time.”

Ah.

You didn’t put that in last time because he didn’t have any.

How the hell did he remember? Even you didn’t think about that.

Lip bitten, you face your pan, shyness now accompanying your sadness.

Of course he would remember. Of course he would point that out. It’s so inherently him that your heart almost slips into the pan in front of you.

If only it were just the two of you still. You wouldn’t have to be on edge or worry about where you stand with him.

Though Tae’s label and Dom’s question still ring in your ears, those are going to stay nothing more than a dream. A wonderful scenario you can keep imagining at night, or during a confession scene, or simply while driving to a job you aren’t happy with.

“Yeah,” you whisper, hearing your brother’s voice move further across the house. “There is.”

“Fuck it, come here.”

You don’t even get to question what’s happening before your chin gets tugged and your lips seized, breath sucked all the way into your lungs while shoulders meet your ears.

Colors burst as Yoongi lets you go as quickly as he claimed you, and your vision spins as he darts his eyes between yours.

“You staying?”

Stars. Stars. Your eyes are stars. “Huh?”

“When they get here.”

“Why?”

Unwavering, he admits as plain as day,

“I wanna see you.”

He what?

Stunned, you start to say his name before you feel him squeeze your ass, tugging you flush against him and causing your stomach to backflip off a top rope because what the fuck?

“Also.” A bit of teeth shows behind his curve as his greeting glides out in a low, smug as fuck,

“Hi.”

…What the hell! What is he doing!

His laugh while you panic shove him off is aimed at the stove instead, and you’re left to gawk at his side profile for what feels like hours. And hours.

Yoongi did not just do that in your own house. No way. Absolutely no way.

As he spares you a quick glance again, his eyes roam across your face before he quietly hisses in mirth, grabbing a spatula and stirring what he dropped in the pan seconds—hours?—earlier.

Your breath finally returns when you hear your brother’s voice enter the hallway again. “Yoongi…”

“Hmm?” When he sees you watching him, his expression drops in a way that has you melting. “Shit, too much?”

“No, no. I just—” As much as you would replay that tiny moment over and over again, it only reminded your heart of better things. Of easier times. And it’s banging against your chest like an animal to the point where it physically hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurts.

Fuck it.

Launching forward, you tug him back in for another kiss—rushed, desperate, simply not enough. Your nails dig into the soft material of his shirt, as if the animal inside of you is claiming prey after absolute starvation.

His lips are just as—

Footsteps and goodbyes sound off around the corner.

Retreating with all the willpower you have left, everything you’ve wanted to say over the past fifty or so hours comes out in three loaded syllables,

“I miss you.”

And you have to move away as your sibling enters the kitchen, eyes welling impossibly fast and lungs on fire.

“My bad! Got carried away.”

“Who was that?”

“Rohan.”

“He’s not coming.”

“Nah, he said he was.”

“Uh huh.”

While they converse, cold fridge air snaps you back into normalcy, and you pretend to rummage around for nothing before shutting it with a small thump. “Took you long enough,” you snip as you go to grab Yoongi’s cutting board, since he took your brother’s instead. “We’re almost done!”

“Ah, damn. I thought you’d be finished already.”

“Lazy!”

“Hey, I helped!”

“Useless.”

“What!”

A small snort leaves your nose as you bring Yoongi’s cuts to the stove, mind a little clearer despite his surprise attack.

Because even though your heart wants plenty more than whatever the hell just happened, your worries have retreated for now.

He kissed you.

He wants to see you.

Dom, as always, has been right this entire time.

You feel like you could fly with how light your shoulders feel. Even the food smells better and looks more appetizing.

Eyeing your brother across the kitchen, you ask with newfound glee, “Would you rather be lazy or useless?”

“Doesn’t matter if he’s both.”

“Bitch! Move over, I’m doing the rest.”

As your brother shoves into his friend’s side, he meets resistance as the latter pushes right back with a strained laugh.

Immediately, you back up as they struggle over the utensil, laughing in earnest and then some.

“Gimme the spoon!”

“No! You’re gonna fuck it up!”

“I’ll make it better if you just—”

“Hell no! Fuck off!”

Fools. Both of them are complete fools! Your cheeks legitimately hurt from seeing them wrestle over a goddamn spatula, so much so that it’s hard to form words.

It’s only when your brother knocks the pot a little too hard that you intervene with a string of sounds, “Stop, stop! You’re gonna knock it over!”

Both of them cease while you walk up to Yoongi’s other side. “How about you both fuck off and I finish by myself, yeah?”

Before either of them responds, the doorbell does, and your brother leaves immediately. “Coming!”

Which leaves you alone with Yoongi for mere seconds.

And he uses them to his complete advantage.

“Show me that sometime.”

Something is placed in your hand before you fully register what he means, and your jaw drops before he walks away with a goddamn smirk.

Motherfucker, he didn’t have to wink, too!

Breathing in, you curse him out before looking at the spatula you now possess, curling your fingers around the warm handle.

He wants to see you?

Texts be damned.

Greetings flow out of the entrance as a group of people arrive, and you smile while busying yourself at the stove. When you hear your name being called, you turn to say your hellos and let them all know food’s almost ready.

One of the guys almost steps foot into the kitchen to see what you’re making, but both Yoongi and your brother halt and spin him with light touches.

Sparing a glance at your sibling calling him impatient, you wonder if he knew Yoongi did the same thing.

But more and more people start coming in, and soon music fills the house to compete with pops of conversations.

Wasn’t tonight supposed to be relaxed? You don’t even think there’s enough food for everyone. While your brother starts pulling alcohol from the counter, you question with heavy judgment,

“This is a chill night?”

He looks out into the living room with a tsk. “Meant for it to be. Guess people just tagged along.” Grabbing a bag of solos from a cabinet, he apologizes, “Sorry.”

“Kick’em out early, please.”

“Yeah, I can.”

Everything you prepared smells divine. You even hear someone comment on the smell from a room over while you’re finishing up. After getting out disposable plates—because you can cook for people but you are not cleaning up after them—you announce that the food is ready.

“Thanks!”

“I’m starving.”

“You better not hog everything again.”

“It was one time.”

Standing at the bar, you watch as all your brother’s friends congregate in the kitchen, observing everyone’s conversations and keeping to yourself as much as possible.

Some of them you recognize from his team, and some of them you’ve known for quite awhile. It’s a lively bunch, and you admire your sibling for keeping up so many friendships all these years.

“Y’all better thank her. She made all this shit.”

Oh, god. So many eyes on you.

After the cacophony of gratitude and comments on the food, you smile without teeth. “Just leave a little for me. I’m still hungry.”

“K!”

You don’t trust hungry crowds, but at least you still have your brother’s leftovers in the fridge.

The doorbell rings again and, since you’re the closest, you vacate the bar and head to the front.

To your surprise, it’s Jimin waiting on the welcome mat—the man you need to thank for Dalo.

“Hey,” you greet instead, letting him in. “Anyone else with you?”

“Hello, love.” His smile is always so charming, and it currently contrasts with the all black fit and cap he’s sporting. “Just me.”

“There’s food in the kitchen,” you offer as the door closes with a thump. “If you’re hungry.”

Thank him, too. Just say thank you for what he didn’t need to do but did anyway.

“I just ate, thank you—hey!”

And your chance evaporates.

You watch as he starts his routine, saying hi until he’s gotten to everybody. The habits of a true host, you figure. He could run for council one day with those mannerisms, especially with a force like Taehyung by his side.

You really hope whatever they got going on works out.

Well. Maybe you can catch Jimin some other time tonight. There’s no point in doing it now.

When you get back to your spot at the bar, you see that another plate has materialized next to yours.

Did anyone take your seat? Is this someone’s food?

Glancing around, there isn’t anyone else other than someone getting their own portions. All the other people are scattered about the house or backyard.

Huh.

Despite feeling like a fly on a wall, sticking around is somewhat enjoyable. Not having to socialize too much takes some pressure off your shoulders, and sparing glances at Yoongi wearing one of his beloved tracksuits is always a plus.

Your brother said he’s been sucked into his phone often, but you haven’t noticed that tonight. He’s mostly been talking and listening to people, even smiling and joking a bit, too.

“Wait, didn’t one of y’all tag that abandoned pool before?”

“No?”

“Yes, you did! Wait, no. It was Yoongi!”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Oh. I swore it was. It was sick, too.”

“Okay, maybe it was me.”

Laughter erupts as he grins into his cup.

“You and Jimin, man. Troublemakers.”

The latter lazily points in defense. “Doesn’t count if you don’t get caught.”

“That’s even worse.”

“You guys were terrible.”

“Hey,” Yoongi pipes up, room hinging on his set brows and waiting on his argument. But, after a pause, all that comes out is confident agreement, “We still are.”

And more laughs pierce the surrounding furniture.

Even from your position a ways away, you hunch forward in your amusement. But there’s another reason for your grin.

He’s so handsome when he’s happy.

Has he always been like this around his friends? You know Yoongi’s not the extroverted type, but to see him so comfortable around people makes you feel at ease.

Except when his eyes shift to you.

Because it feels like you’re the only person he’s acknowledging in those moments, which throws all thoughts and feelings into a stew that rivals what you made tonight.

All the times before, you’ve turned or scurried away.

But now, you decide to exude pure joy from your lonely spot on a wall, and you see a brilliant spark take root in his eyes.

A half hour later, you still wanna thank Jimin for what he did, and you finally get your chance when he enters the kitchen to refill a cup.

Coming up next to him, you grab a little liquor of your own before you blurt over the music,

“Thank you.”

Jimin looks your way, eyes watching over the lid of his solo.

“For Dalo.”

Straightening, he shrugs. “No need.”

“But I’ve been wanting to.”

“Not surprising,” he says through a smile. “You and your brother. So stubborn. You can text me, you know.”

Laughing, you take a sip and let the subtle burn slide down your throat. “I think he’d interrogate you if you were texting me.”

“I can take him.”

Jimin will forever be Jimin. It’s admirable, really. If he was the one you were seeing, who knows how many texts would have been sent since Friday.

But he’s not.

The one you’ve been seeing is a room over, someone you haven’t been able to approach since he stole oxygen from your lungs.

You thought watching Yoongi having fun would be enough. But with each passing minute, you found yourself increasingly incorrect. Yearning took over like a weed, quickly overrunning your chest and making it hard for you to accept being a mere wallflower.

Just like the sear of alcohol, something else settles into your stomach. And it’s not pleasant, or wanted.

Even if you dated Yoongi, how the hell could you navigate that? There’s no way things can just change and suddenly you’re sitting right beside him at parties. Or anywhere. At least, not without his friends giving you strange looks or past hookups chucking malice your way.

Some of them can even be here right now. Which you would rather not think about, so your next sip is bigger than the last.

Because all you’ve been is a younger sister. Not really part of their group or age or whatever else that separates your world from theirs.

People say to look at the bigger picture.

But you don’t particularly like the way yours is turning out.

Fuck, your heartbeat is super, super loud right now.

“You okay?”

“Huh?”

Instantly, sounds and voices reach normal clarity. The heavy thumps you hear aren’t your pulse, but bass from the music instead. When you blink, Jimin is already regarding you with curiosity, a hand on your arm in concern.

Shit. How long were you just standing there? “Oh. Just thinking.”

“About Dalo?” He slides his palm off, leaving a million questions in its wake. “It’s okay, really.”

“No, not that,” you sigh, nostrils singed from your drink. Staring out the kitchen windows, you respond as airily as the smoke that drifts over your back porch. “Not that at all.”

“Basketball? Ah, yeah.”

Huh?

You whip your stare to his, which causes his jaw to shut in an instant.

Because either he really just wanted to bring that up again, or he misheard you terribly over the music.

Miraculously, your opportunity presented itself. So you are not letting it slip by this time. “What about it.”

“Nothing.”

Fuck that. Frowning, you don’t back down. “What do you mean, Jimin. You said you would tell me.”

“I figured you would’ve known by now.”

“No one’s told me shit.”

Unblinking, you watch as he licks his lips in thought. You hear a few feet on the kitchen tile, but nothing can stop you from getting this information now. Not stares, nor whispers, or even your brother.

And he seems to pick up on your determination. He’s the one that called you stubborn, after all. Eyes shadowed by the rim of his hat, he sighs in defeat, “I’ll tell you, but. I feel like either of them should instead.”

You find that your fingers actually grip the side of his shirt. “Please,” you whisper. “Now I’m starting to get worried.”

Because what in the hell could be so significant about that day? It’s better if your brother or Yoongi tell you instead? What the hell does that mean?

After several grueling seconds, Jimin waits until the last people leave the kitchen. You observe the way his eyes covertly scan, and you peer over your own shoulder to gauge the room.

Finally, his voice drifts through the empty air when he surrenders, “Okay. After you left… Something went down.”

Your hand drops from his side. “What?”

“Uhh.” He steps back and fixes his cap, eyes storming with conflict. “Fuck, I really shouldn’t be the one telling you.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Because now? Now you need to know. Your heart is pounding and you’re pretty sure the next song is good but you can’t exactly hear it. All you’re focused on is what he is going to tell you. Because he gave you a bite and now you’ll fight for the entire course.

But no further coercion is needed. Jimin continues, seemingly unable to look your way. “Some dude made some threats.”

“Threats? To who?”

He glances at you before sighing. And you have to answer yourself.

“Oh. Me? What the fuck?”

“I told you—”

“Jimin… Why the fuck didn’t anyone tell me?”

“I can’t speak for them, but. They probably just didn’t want you to worry.”

“Were they really that bad?”

He prods a cheek before divulging the last, most crucial part. “He threatened to find this house, so. Yeah.”

Well. That’s definitely a lot worse than you thought. You can take empty threats; everyone goes through shit like that. But for someone to threaten to find an address? Were they really… That…

Serious?

Hold on.

Hold on hold on hold on.

Your words feel like suspense itself on your tongue.

“Wait, so… That whole time…”

Jimin just stares—stares, and stares, and stares—while everything hits you like a train.

The whole week.

That entire time.

Yoongi was keeping you safe.

The key. The goading you into coming over. The way he kept looking over his shoulder while you walked at night. Telling you that Jimin knows.

This also explains why Jimin freaked out at Taehyung’s place. When he overheard that you weren’t responding.

A chill pops in your chest like dry ice, freezing everything over in seconds.

You heard Yoongi saying something went down when your brother came home. Voice shaking, you ask Jimin even though your heart knows the answer,

“Was… Was the guy at Dalo…?”

He sets his cup down before gripping the counter in both palms, and he doesn’t need to say anything else.

“Almost lost our goddamn minds.”

You start feeling your fingers tremble before a hand clamps over your mouth.

Fuck.

Oh fuck, oh fuck.

No wonder the fucker looked familiar; no wonder it felt so off; no wonder Jimin’s heart was racing as much as yours was.

Everything in your brain is spinning, thoughts leaping from one end to the next and bumping and screeching and popping and—

You need something. You don’t know what. Yoongi. Your room. To be alone. His place. Nowhere. Is it stuffy in here? You need space. Space.

Space.

“Thank you,” you rush out. “For telling me.”

And you quickly excuse yourself, almost missing the pair of eyes watching your hasty exit to your bedroom.

Everything’s completely blurry when your door shuts behind you. Cursing, you run your hand across your nose before a storm of thoughts jolts your body.

It’s too much.

The feelings swirling in your chest have no place to go but out of your ducts, pinging onto your floor and into your clothes.

Are you overthinking this? No. You think and think and think but by god you are pretty damn sure about this one.

Why would he do that? No one has ever gone these lengths for you. At least, no one other than your brother, who’s had it ingrained in his blood since forever.

But Yoongi didn’t have to go this far. Neither did Jimin, for that matter. They both could’ve just passed it off as a bluff, or forgotten about it as soon as the next day rolled around.

Fucking hell, how they must’ve felt at Dalo.

There’s an unspeakable pang in your chest just thinki—

Your phone’s vibrations scare the shit out of you, and you check to see who texted before another hot batch of tears roll down your face.

Yoongi [10:04pm]: What’s wrong, doll

Goddamn it.

What do you even—why did he—how are you supposed to answer? All you want to do is wrap yourself in his embrace and never leave. You wanna walk past everyone in your house and stand in front of him, if only to tell him a thousand and one thank-you’s by catapulting yourself into his arms.

But you can’t do any of that. And it sucks.

You [10:06pm]: he told me

You [10:06pm]: about basketball

You stumble to your bathroom, bracing yourself on your counter before removing all the gunk from today in a wash.

It’s not like you’re going back out there. Not after looking like a legitimate trainwreck.

After you’re done, you see that he texted back, throat constricting at his continued concern. Always his concern. Always his effort.

Holy fuck, his effort.

Yoongi [10:09pm]: Talk to me

You [10:17pm]: i really fucking want to

You [10:17pm]: but i can’t

Yoongi [10:18pm]: Gimme ten

What? He’s not gonna leave and call you, is he? It’s late but it’s not super late. If he dips out now, wouldn’t that be too early?

Well, your brother did say he was leaving early all weekend. Probably to work on something.

But regardless. You can’t position yourself as someone that makes him leave just out of selfishness. He can still have fun while he’s here. You can wait.

After what you heard, you can wait as long as he needs.

You [10:20pm]: what no. you don’t have to leave

Yoongi [10:20pm]: I know

A sniffle.

What the hell did you do to deserve any of this?

As you settle into the cold of your sheets, you let out a few more tears.

Because now, more than ever, you wanna run right for that godforsaken finish line.

Though it’s been more than ten minutes, you don’t mind. If anything, Yoongi’s given you time to process everything, tears hardening on your cheeks and soaking into your pillowcase.

Even before he gave you that key, he was protecting you in his own ways. For fuck’s sake, he even came over the day your brother flew out, probably just to check on you. So many things. So many nights.

Recalling how you joked about walking home, now you feel downright awful if you scared him somewhat.

When he finally calls, your throat tightens, but you answer the phone regardless.

“Hey, doll.”

His voice is a salve for your wounds. “Yoongi… Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

You hear a long sigh, the low hum of his car filling the space right after.

“Fucking Park.”

“I made him tell me,” you defend. “Since no one else ever said anything.” Waiting, you trace your fingers along one of the divots in your sheets. And you’re unsurprised when you realize it’s in the spot he took residence before.

“I’d rather you worry about normal shit.”

You freeze.

“You don’t ever need to worry about that.”

The entirety of every language you know escapes you. For his explanation renders you speechless.

Jimin was correct in his assumption. But it doesn’t take away from how you feel. How grateful, how terrible, how indescribable you feel.

That’s a long time to shoulder something and not say a word about it. And from his reaction, you don’t think he planned on saying anything at all. “But that whole time… You…”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

He’s downplaying. Why is he downplaying? From the way Jimin spoke, those threats weren’t light. And Yoongi cannot tell you it was nothing considering how he acted after Dalo.

Fuck.

After Dalo.

How he was the whole night after suddenly cakes your throat to the brim.

Because it was already enough to make you rethink some things. But now? After knowing the whole truth?

Fucking hell, Min Yoongi.

A wave of emotion cradles you into its swell, and you feel something warm spread throughout every fibre of your being. It’s comforting, it’s peaceful, it’s healing.

Suddenly, even the normal shit doesn’t seem worrisome at all.

Breath shuddering, your chest aches so much that you almost consider sneaking out of your window to follow him back home. “He told me,” you whisper into the line, tears threatening to splash onto your screen. “The guy at Dalo.”

A curse shoots out before you’re back to hearing the ambiance of the drive.

Yoongi really didn’t want you to know that part, it seems.

And truthfully, you get it. You don’t think you would’ve told anyone something like that, either.

“Jimin knew not to let me get you. You haven’t noticed, but. I still have a big ass bruise from him shoving me into the bar.”

“Yoongi.” You have to know. It’s not enough to know what happened. Now you need to know something deeper. And it’s not even out of worry; it’s out of pure curiosity. “Why?”

“Because we were asked to.”

…Huh?

You didn’t know that was the case. Your brother was the one that asked them? There couldn’t be anyone else that Yoongi was referring to.

How did that guy get out alive if he threatened you in front of your brother? What all actually happened?

“And I was gonna anyways.”

Breathing in, you still can’t believe it. You can’t believe anything that’s been said or revealed to you in the last hour or so.

Fuck, even your brother having people over makes sense. He wants to be home instead of leaving you in the house.

They all did so much. So much more than you even realized. “You even stayed... That night.”

“I wasn’t gonna leave you alone.”

Oh, it hurts. Your chest hurts like it’s never, ever hurt before. It’s hard to even form the right sentences, when all you can think about is him. “Yoongi… Thank you.”

“It’s all good. When’s your interview?”

Disbelief shoots from your mouth.

That’s what he decides to talk about now? After this massive revelation that he didn’t speak a word of for a week?

Who knows. This could just be a normal, everyday happening that Yoongi is used to. It may not mean much at all in his grand scheme of things.

But to you? To you, this means more than everything.

So much is choked up in your throat that it leaks out of your eyes. When you finally respond, you hope that he can’t tell you’re crying.

“It’s… It’s on Tuesday. After work.” You can’t help but let a sound slip. How the fuck can Yoongi be so normal about all of this? You feel like you can barely function. “Still nervous as fuck.”

You know he knows you’re crying. But he doesn’t comment on it at all. The only thing that comes out of his mouth is assurance.

“You’ll be fine.”

“How do you know?”

“Just cus.”

Unbelievable. And yet completely him. Your palm comes up to wipe gratitude and a myriad of other emotions from your eyes.

This entire time.

You don’t think you’ll ever stop thinking about this.

And you have a pretty fucking good excuse to not overthink about him anymore.

“That’s a really lame answer.”

“Did it work?”

“A little.”

“Good.”

A tiny hum escapes through your clogged throat. If only he wasn’t driving further and further away. Wasn’t he the one that made you comfortable here?

You think you understand how. Maybe a part of your heart left with him after he stayed the night. And maybe, just maybe, the rest of it is packing up and fighting to escape your rib cage.

“You should go, doll.”

“No.”

His slight laugh is comfort in a sound.

“At least go back out for a sec. Get some water or something.”

“Okay…”

Despite agreeing, you find that you’re far from being done. How could you be? You wanna stay as long as he lets you. Brain whirring, you grab hold of anything you can use as an excuse to keep him on the line.

And you end up settling for something safe. “Wait, where’s my copy of your album?”

He responds with amusement again, but immediately takes the bait.

“I don’t even have the masters yet.”

“Liar. You must have at least one.”

There’s a brief pause before he admits,

“Okay, maybe I have one.”

“I knew it!”

“You caught that way too quick.”

“Yeah, you better watch out.”

“Agreed.”

“You know.. This whole time,” you start, rueful puffs of air fanning onto your receiver, “I’ve been wondering if I could talk to you again.”

“I thought you just forgot about me.”

“Huh?”

Quite possibly the most untrue statement in history.

“You never texted, so. I never knew when it was a good time.”

He laughs, seemingly to himself.

“Then a whole weekend passed.”

Staring into your ceiling, you frown. “You’re joking.”

“Dead serious.”

“Wow.”

“I almost called you. Like three fucking times.”

“Really?”

“For nothing, too. You know I had a cat at my door two days in a row?”

“Nu uh. A stray?”

“Think so. I left some water out but didn’t have any food. Fuck, I need to go to the store.”

You hear Yoongi get out of his car, and you wish you were there with him walking to his apartment. You’d probably be able to see his newfound pet. “You know you have a cat now, right?”

“No.”

“Yeah.”

“No chance.”

“It’s there now, huh.”

The silence on the line is your answer.

“Listen—”

“See—”

“It is. But it’s leaving now.”

“Is it really.”

You hear a shuffle of sounds, and in your heart of hearts you know he’s bending down to pet the damn thing.

But his pride makes his answer noncommittal.

“Mm.”

“Oh my god, another lie! Such a liar.”

Mirth fills your speaker, and you can hear his smug ass smile.

“Nu uh.”

“I can’t with you. I’m hanging up.”

You hear the distinct jangle of keys, and that one sound alone breaks your facade.

“I lied. I don’t wanna go.”

His door shuts, and you can imagine him padding through his place after slipping off his shoes. He had really nice ones on today, so they’re probably going into those neat, clear bins he uses for more coveted pairs.

“Just call me later.”

“When?”

“When he’s passed out.”

“Okay… Do I have to go now?”

“Mm. I’m almost done with something I wanna show you.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh. And you’re distracting me so hang up.”

“You called me!”

“So?”

“Wow. Goodbye, babe.”

There’s a quiet moment. Then a quiet, rueful huff of breath.

“Talk later, doll.”

And the phone is suddenly silent.

While your head is as loud as can be.

A couple hours pass before you hear your brother finally knocked out.

After hanging up earlier, you did venture out of your room to get water. Of course, you made yourself presentable and not snot-nosed before leaving. Couldn’t let anyone immediately wonder if you were okay or not.

Because while you got closure about what happened, it’s still so full of emotion that you think you’ll break if you have to speak about it again.

Jimin spotted you before you stepped back into your room, but he only offered a smile after your mouth curved upward in perpetual thankfulness.

In that moment, you decided to give your brother some credit, too.

For everything that he’s done thus far. And for picking an elite group of close friends.

Inching up against his door, you place your ear on the wood, hearing the rush of air before telltale snoring rumbles through.

So it isn’t long before you’re back in your room, calling back the man you will never get over as long as you live.

“I didn’t think you’d do it.”

“Really? Why?”

“Fully expected you to chicken out.”

Huffing in pride, you settle onto your sheets. “I like proving you wrong.”

“I see that.”

“So what were you gonna show me?”

“Huh? Nah, I’m still not done.”

Giving your phone a weird look, you note, “You said to call back.”

There’s a mix of scratching sounds on the line, and you wonder if he’s at his desk or in his bed.

“Yeah.”

“So…?”

“Just felt like making you come.”

Fuck!

“Yoo—” You slap a hand over your mouth. “Are you out of your mind?”

The grin in his voice can be heard for miles.

“You don’t wanna?”

Is this man for real? Yes, you’ve spoken on the phone when your brother was here and yes, you want to jump his goddamn bones. But this is definitely crossing into dangerous territory. “I…I do, but—”

“Then do as I say. It won’t take long.”

“Cocky son of a bitch,” you whisper, already frazzled to no end. It seems your lips get a lot looser, more unfiltered the more caught off-guard you are.

You wonder if Yoongi’s caught onto that. Judging from the chuckles you hear in your speaker, he probably already has.

“You ever done this before?”

“No.”

“Then trust me.”

Settling far under your covers and placing pillows around, you whisper, “Fine… You better not charge me for this.”

A hum buzzes the line.

“I’m surprised you’re not asking me to pay up.”

“Oh. Good idea. I will now.”

“Gonna run me dry, huh?”

“Mmhmm. Plus interest.”

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“Just missed you.”

You blink. “Oh.”

“Keep whatever shirt you got on, forget the rest. You’re gonna need it in a sec.”

“Okay,” you breathe out, slowly reaching down to slip off your bottoms. Your heart is already racing, and the warmth under your covers is increasing bit by bit. “They’re off now.”

“Good girl.”

Air leaves your lungs, but it’s what he says next that causes you to outright flinch.

“What did I tell you to show me.”

Shuddering, your hand is already palming your mound, but all you can think about is how much better it would be to have him there. “Yoongi…”

“Careful, doll. Neighbors can’t know my name just yet.”

Lip bitten, you admit, “I just wish you were here.”

“Fuckin’ same. But do what makes you feel good.”

Swallowing nothing, you dip low, feeling your essence coat your fingers even though you haven’t even started yet.

This man can probably make you come from his voice alone.

But you don’t need to admit that to him.

“You wet, baby girl?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good. Keep going for me.”

Swirling your fingers over your clit always works, but the thoughts and images running across your eyes are what really get you bothered.

The way Yoongi’s fingers feel in your cunt instead; the sounds he isn’t afraid to make in your ear; the roughness he unleashes on you in those moments he lets go. You can practically hear his grunts, feel his thrusts, taste his sweat.

And this is the same man that kept you safe?

It’s all so overwhelming that you don’t even notice how hard you’re breathing.

“Sound so fucking hot.”

A whimper escapes.

How can he say that when he sounds like sin incarnate?

Everything he’s said to you, whether in his right mind or not, comes washing over you in waves. Your fingers find a rhythm as you run through the whole week, and you throw in a few scenarios that you dare not bring up.

Well. Maybe you will now. Frankly, you want to be under his mercy more than you ever have before. It’s as if his selflessness unlocked a deep, dark part of you, begging to be addressed.

The things that are coming to mind. They’re gathering on your tongue, pooling into thick saliva that’s threatening to spill out the side of your mouth. “I miss…”

“Hmm.”

Let it all out.

“I miss being your slut, Yoongi.”

The deep curse on the line sends jolts to your core, and his next words rumble out like thunder.

“My slut, huh?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Tell me something then.”

Your fingers slow down their pace as your ears perk. “What.”

“No lies.”

“Okay.”

“What does my needy girl want?”

Fucking hell, he can’t just say stuff like that with no warning! Immediately, you let out a tiny whine as your digits glide against your slick. “Choke me.”

“Knew you’d love that shit. What else.”

Admitting the first was a lot easier than the second. You can’t even bring yourself to utter it in a whisper let alone loud enough for him to hear. Truthfully, just imagining it right now is enough to get you close to the edge. Your voice comes out extremely strained as you whimper, “I can’t say.”

“You can.”

“Nu uh.”

“Then stop.”

Your hand grinds to an agonizing halt. “What?”

“You heard what I said. Until you tell me, you’re done.”

No! No no no you were so fucking close! “Asshole!”

“Me? I’m letting you off easy.”

“Fuck. Okay… I…”

“You..”

He isn’t helping.

Gulping, you feel your cunt pulse around your fingers as you finally shudder out, “My mouth.”

“Uh huh. What about it.”

“Umm…” Say it. Just say it and get it over with all you need to do is just say it.

So you do.

“Spit in my mouth.”

Only to face complete silence on the line.

Blinking into darkness, you almost take your hand away from your center before you hear his voice grind over boulders,

“Don’t make me climb through your fucking window.”

A whine slips between your closed lips. If he came into your room now, you wouldn’t have cared if every deity in existence overheard what would happen. The amount of lust and something scarier you’re carrying for this man is at an all-time peak. “Don’t tease me. I want it.”

“I just might, fuck.”

“Yes,” you pant, knowing exactly what he means by his broken speech. “Yes. Oh, fuck, I’m close. Yoongi, please!”

“Shirt, doll.”

“What?”

His voice sounds like he’s barely holding on when he grits out,

“Bite that shit you’re wearing or I’m hanging up.”

“I—mmph—”

“I’d shut you up with my dick, but. That should do.”

Fuck! Your squeal is incredibly high as your fingers keep up a stunning pace, the shocks of pleasure tightening your legs.

You hear a condescending laugh on the line, and you don’t know the logic behind it turning you on so much, but it does.

“Goddamn. It’s like you want everyone to hear you, baby girl.”

You shake your head, breaths shallow and fast, knowing damn well he can’t see you.

“You’re getting off on this, huh.”

“Mm mm!”

“Uh huh.”

Another stupid, unnecessary laugh punctures straight into your cunt.

“Getting off on doing something you shouldn’t.”

“Mmm!”

“My girl’s so dirty.”

“Yoough—”

You can’t take it anymore. At a label you didn’t expect to hear, your dam bursts, gushing out onto your fingers and spilling from your core.

It’s massive. Unrelenting. All of your pent-up feelings come in waves, washing you ashore only to drag you back in. The harsh groan you sink into your shirt makes Yoongi react, and your legs threaten to close before he orders,

“Uh uh, keep going, baby. Since you wanna slut it out so bad.”

“Fughk!”

“God, you probably look so fucked out right now. Miss that shit.”

You rip the soaking shirt from your mouth, already close while you keep your fingers wedged inside. Your body thrums with each hard pulse, and imagining him fucking you deep is enough to set you off. “Yoongi. Baby. I’m close again.”

“Then shut the fuck up and come.”

You moan his name into the thick material of your top, hoping to every higher power that it’s muffled enough.

Your walls pulse wildly around your fingers, and you feel so fucking euphoric that your eyes see sounds in the back of your head.

But your back snaps into place again as you settle back onto your mattress, muscles aching and filled with a lingering soreness. The only thing you can do is breathe heavily into the receiver, hoping Yoongi’s just as satisfied as you are.

“Feel better?”

“Much better,” you rasp out as the wet material slides down your neck. “You?”

“I’ve been waiting for this since you kissed me. So yeah.”

Ever since then? That was hours ago.

You need to inhale before offering, “Do you… Do you wanna come, too?”

A chuckle.

“I got what I wanted, doll. It’s cool.”

“I take…” You gulp in a breath. “I take cash or card.”

A loud bit of laughter punctuates your phone, and your grin is lopsided from exhaustion. Sweat coats every single part of your skin, some of it rolling off your legs in spent drops.

“God…”

“So pay up.”

“How about this. Come over when you’re done with that interview.”

“Mm?”

“Then I will.”

“Mm.”

What he offered finally registers in your brain, and it’s like a humongous light switch. Suddenly alert, you clarify, “Wait. You sure?”

“I am.”

Is he really offering that? You both know your brother is back. And your interview may end during late afternoon. Around the time he gets off.

Yoongi has to know all of these things.

But if he’s truly serious, who are you to deny his offering? When you find yourself caring less and less? “K… Guess I’ll go clean up now.”

“Mm. I’m gonna pass out soon anyway.”

“Wait.”

“Hmm.”

A grin spreads your face so wide that it starts to hurt, and excitement to hear his reaction tingles you before you joke, “Where’s my kiss?”

He laughs, knowing exactly what you mean.

And your smile is impossibly wider when he responds,

“Good luck, babe.”

This whole weekend.

This entire weekend, you’ve been worried about various things. Bogged down by a past that clings to your feet like quicksand, dragging you away from wonderful, tender things you’ve been told.

But it seems like you found a step of solid footing. One sure, stable piece of foundation that has probably been there for longer than you’d known.

Besides. Walking to a finish line is just as significant as running. Because if you get there, you get there, and that’s a win.

“Thank you. Seriously.” You pause, gazing at the empty space that you want occupied for an uncountable amount of nights. “For everything.”

“I meant what I said, doll.”

Your smile is warm.

“Anytime.”

tbc. :)

A/N: ahhh. so. how did it go? i just wanna say, to everyone that sent that damn tweet of a guy doing the little things to protect his girl and saying it’s 3tan yoongi... i wanted to scream every time bc of THIS. LOL. but yeah, we finally get to hear about wtf happened during basketball. as for the actual scene..... y’all might get that later, too :’)) i just want this chapter to be out for a little bit beforehand so people can read it first. A/N 2: as always, thank you so much for all of the support. whether you’re new, or an OG, i truly appreciate you being here and going on this journey with me and the 3tan crew. i’m still just a bit sick and sniffly (totally not bc of yoongi what who does that?) so the writing may not be top tier. but i hope this was still worth the wait! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ ⇥ masterlist

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