#he says a lot of stupid things but i love his little anecdotes honestly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

honeymoonjin · 3 years

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.9k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

<- prev || masterlist || next ->

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: cursing, panic attack

A/N: apologies for my tgm crimes here but i gotta keep you on your toes since you have the old plan. also i'm not going to spoil anything but day 25 has one of my fav scenes in the show so far ;;-; so please enjoy this chapter and i will continue to work hard to finish the following one and get back into the posting routine!

DAY TWENTY-FOUR

You’re roused from sleep by the feathered sensation of fingertips on your jaw. Twitching slightly, you try and move away from it, burrowing deeper into the warm, gently rocking pillow your head is propped up on.

Before you can slip back under, however, the fingers give one last attack: a sudden flick to your cheek that echoes with a thwack. You flinch and furrow your brows, grumbling your displeasure since your words haven’t quite found you yet.

“Get up, sleepyhead, unless you’d rather I just piss in the bed.”

That’ll do it. You shoot up so quickly your vision swims, one side of your face feeling cold without the comfort of Yoongi’s chest. “Fuck you, go pee,” you slur, eyes still half-closed, the morning glare peeking through a gap in his curtains.

Yoongi happily but hurriedly trots off to the bathroom, giving you a moment of respite to collect yourself. It takes a few moments to recall the previous night, not just the way Yoongi’s voice had made you cum in your room, but also the way it later lulled you to sleep as he told you hushed stories of his childhood or anecdotes from his days as a sex education teacher.

You can even hear his voice now, just barely slipping under the crack of the door, humming and singing under his breath as he washes his hands.

When he finally exits, you’re propped up by pillows, duvet tucked over your knees and eyes crinkled fondly at his bedhead.

“Oh, no,” he starts with a frown, “you better get that look off of your face.”

Your smile drops. “What?”

Taming his hair with a few flat strokes, he shakes his head. “I need somebody sane in this house to talk to. You aren’t allowed to fall in love with me, it’s conflict of interest.”

Mouth dropping open, it takes you a few minutes to note the subtle curl to his lips. “You dick! I’m certainly not planning on it, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Hey,” he defends in a drawl, no attempt at modesty as he shucks his pyjamas before browsing his chest of drawers, “it’s been done before. You come for the massive dick and stay for the massive heart.” He pauses, shoulder muscles flexing as he reaches in to a drawer, pulling out a pair of dark wash jeans. “Stop looking at my ass, I’m trying to lecture you.”

On the contrary, you lower your gaze and narrow in on it. “You’re starting to develop a little bubble butt, Yoongi. It’s very cute.” Not leaving him time to protest, you barrel on. “Besides, your dick isn’t that big.”

“That’s only because you’re comparing mine to hyung’s. And Namjoon’s. And… And Jungkook’s, I guess. And-” Suddenly he cuts himself off, throwing himself back on the bed with his back hunched in despair. “Fuck, do I have a small dick?”

“Mm, not really,” you dismiss easily, deciding to finally get out of bed and pick out your own clothes - selecting them from Yoongi’s drawers, of course. He makes no protest, still staring blankly at the jeans in his hands. “You just have steep competition here. There’s nothing wrong with small dicks, either. They’re cute.”

Now visible from your angle, Yoongi’s face twists in a grimace. “But my dick isn’t small, right?”

You shrug, slipping on one of his FG shirts and a pair of sweatpants loose enough that you have to knot the drawstrings. “If it helps you sleep at night.”

He spares one somber glance down between his legs before he slips on a pair of underwear, finally stepping into the jeans. There’s a brief period of comfortable silence, before he lets out a small sigh. “Can I… Can I confess something to you?”

Although a quip would be easy enough to say, you sense the joking is over. “Of course, Yoongi,” you assure instead, sitting cross-legged on the unmade bed beside him. He doesn’t meet your eye, busying himself with slipping a shirt over his head. “What’s up?”

Once he’s fully dressed, he still keeps his eyes low. “When you- On Monday, when you voted out Jin-hyung. I was so glad.”

You pause for a moment. “Because you wanted him out of the competition?” you venture, but he shakes his head dully.

“Because I thought he might look at me again if he didn’t have you.”

Something sinks in your stomach, cold enough to make you shiver. The guilt in Yoongi’s voice doesn’t conceal the open vulnerability of his expression as he fiddles with his bitten fingernails. “What do you mean, Yoongi?”

“What him and I had earlier wasn’t healthy, I know that,” he defends to himself, “but… I still miss it. I miss him. But even when I spoke to him after the elimination, all he would talk about was you. And I can’t even be mad, because I get it. And I- If I’m honest,” he murmurs, feet scuffing restlessly on the carpet, “I don’t even know what I’m wanting to achieve by telling you this, but I couldn’t stand not having anybody know about it. I never wanted it to get this messy. I told myself I wouldn’t let my feelings get caught up. But I think a little heartbreak would be worth it, for him. Is that stupid?”

You feel so unanchored, like there’s nothing for you to grab onto to steady yourself. More so, you feel entirely incapable of helping your friend like you so desperately want to. “It’s not stupid,” you begin, reaching out to cup one of his hands snugly between the two of yours, head resting on his shoulder in solidarity, “and I’m so sorry. Does he- does he know you feel this way?”

“I don’t think so,” Yoongi admits in a low voice, leaning into your touch. “If he does, then he must not like me since he’s not acknowledging it. And if he doesn’t, then he must have never even considered me like that. I know I was a distraction at best.”

You knit your brows together, deep in thought to try and find the right words to say. “Or perhaps he knows and he’s respecting your boundaries by letting you initiate, especially since he was the one who took advantage of you last time. And perhaps he doesn’t know, and it’s only because he’s so caught up in his own feelings that he hasn’t considered that you may feel the same. You just don’t know these things, Yoongi. I didn’t know how you felt either until you told me.”

He nods slowly, jerkily. “Yeah,” he says weakly. “Jungkook said almost the exact same thing, actually.”

You pull back slowly, curiosity colouring your tone. “Jungkook?”

Yoongi manages a shy smile, cheeks colouring slightly. “He approached me. We- we talk a lot, way more than hyung and I ever did. I know Kookie has a crush on me, and we said we’d take things slow, but dammit, I can’t help but like the kid.”

You let a surprised laugh bubble up your throat. “That- I was not expecting that, but I’m so glad, Yoongi. Even if you don’t have Jin, I’m glad you’re letting yourself be happy with others.”

His smile falters. “Is it greedy that liking Jungkook doesn’t make me want Jin-hyung any less?”

You go still, thinking of your own blooming feelings for... Well, for most of the people in this house, if not - at least a little bit - all of them. “I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I’d like to think not.”

Yoongi lifts his gaze to you, carefully studying your face. “Do you ever worry,” he begins, so softly that you have to strain to make the words out, “that our feelings have been set up. By the show, I mean.” His brows furrow deeper. “We’re living in a practical paradise - luxurious house with no real jobs, our food is paid for, we’re literally getting rewarded to have sex. It’s so artificial, you know? So who’s to say that our feelings are artificial, too? I- I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” he admits with a pensive stare.

You can’t lie. You nod. “I’d like to think not,” you repeat hollowly, “but… I mean, yeah, this feels like some alternate reality, and thinking of any of you in normal, mundane, real-life scenarios seems so strange. Like, can you picture Hoseok sitting down and doing his taxes?”

Yoongi snorts, shaking his head in bemusement as a line of tension eases from his shoulders. “I hope he hires an accountant. I certainly wouldn’t trust him with my money.”

You let out a deep sigh and fall backwards onto the duvet, air punched out of you on impact. “The thing is, Yoongi,” you declare in a matter-of-fact tone, “we have no way of knowing what life will be like once all this is wrapped up so why even bother worrying?”

He turns slightly, just enough to watch you warily over his shoulder. “Maybe because I could get my heart broken?”

You pout at him. “Tell me how that’s any different from developing a crush in real life?”

He opens his mouth, furrows his brows, and closes it again. “I- Ugh. Fuck you for being correct.”

Pleased with yourself, you hide your grin as you playfully knock his side with your foot, making him recoil with a groan. “Be as cautious or as impulsive as you want, but even if all this is fake, you could’ve just as easily developed those feelings outside of the show. Like come on, if you saw Jin in the grocery store don’t tell me you wouldn’t fall in love on sight!”

Yoongi shakes his head again, a wry smile playing at his lips. “I see your point… and now I’m picturing Jin getting groceries and looking hot doing it...wow.”

You cackle at the dazed look on Yoongi’s face, using his arm to pull yourself up off the bed, patting him on the shoulder. “Good talk, champ. I’m off to chow down on the leftover pork from last night. Care to join me?”

His eyes glitter, but the doctor declines. “Yoonji said she blackmailed one of the production team to bring her fried chicken from her favourite place. She’s hiding it in the bunk room, but you didn’t hear that from me. She’s selling some to me for a small fortune, the little devil.”

“Less than half a week here and she’s already set up a black market,” you muse, “I think I may be in love with her, Yoongi.”

“Don’t you dare.”

While the kitchen is empty when you first arrive, it only takes the sizzle of pork belly in a saucepan to draw your roommates down.

Jin is first, silently rummaging in the pantry and fridge for some side dishes to add to the mix. In return, you begin boiling some hot water, adding instant coffee mix to two mugs.

As the others join, the line of mugs and glasses on the kitchen island grows, until even the two Min twins are hovering in the kitchen, looking suspicously still hungry after their illicit breakfast.

There aren’t enough chairs at the table to seat you all, but luckily Taehyung and Jungkook are happy hunched over the bench in the kitchen, sharing a set of Airpods and snickering at a seemingly endless stream of TikToks.

At the table, Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi chow down on their meals, the latter with a considerably smaller portion made up mostly of meat. Yoonji and Jimin are on either side of you, with Jin on one end, chewing slow to savour each bite.

It’s the first time in a while that you’ve all shared breakfast at the same time, and you’re struck with a deep feeling of fondness at this little family-like group you’re living with. Jimin sneaks extra strips of meat or spoonfuls of rice into your bowl when he thinks you’re not looking; Hoseok listens enthusiastically to Namjoon’s explanation of a summer school course he’s taking, even as he has to ask for clarification just about every second sentence; Yoongi splits his time between checking up on the two maknaes with a soft look, and scowling at his sister’s teasing comments.

“Any plans for the day?” Yoonji asks suddenly, tugging you out of your musings. She’s dressed sleekly in a black velvet mock neck shirt and high waisted denim shorts, her face as stark a resemblance to her brother as ever, with two sharp lines of black on her lids being the only visible makeup. “Except, I suppose, the mandatory fucking.”

You huff with pink cheeks, never growing used to hearing it so openly. “The days kinda blur together a little when you have no real responsibilities,” you admit, “I should probably find a hobby or something.”

Yoonji’s eyes crinkle in faux empathy. “Oh, honey, you’re gonna be so out of it when you return to the real world. You all will,” she adds, before shrugging, “except maybe Namjoon. Seems like academia doesn’t stop for anyone.”

You can’t help but agree. “He has more brain cells in his pinky finger than I do in my own body,” you swear, “he could break an arm and still type a thesis one-handed.”

Halfway through a mouthful of food, you’re rewarded to the ungraceful yet endlessly endearing sound of her snorting, a hand cupped over her mouth. After swallowing, she turns towards you to respond. “I haven’t known him for long, but that seems to check out. He’s quite the character, huh?”

You don’t miss the meaningful lilt to her voice, nor the quirk of a sharp brow. “He’s a good guy,” you reply under your breath, gaze darting down the table to where the man himself is engaged in an intensely enthusiastic discussion (okay, closer to a TedTalk) with Hoseok, now using pieces of meat to create an abstract diagram in his otherwise empty bowl. The latter looks bewildered, but is nonetheless paying deep attention to every word.

It’s impossible not to feel soft inside as you look at the pair of them, all complementary contrast. Hoseok with his slender nose and harsh facial structure and Namjoon with a round, gentle face. One of them dressed in sleek black and the other in oversized earth tones, the typically reserved one animated and the bubbly one focused in. It had taken you barely a month of shared living to become completely fond of these men, not just Namjoon and Hoseok but all of them, and as much as it was nice to have someone new in the Villa for a while, Yoonji’s presence makes you more aware of the fact that you and the seven guys had developed a certain equilibrium that seemed slightly off-balance with the change.

It makes you worry about what other disturbances this delicate system could hold, and if returning to the real world would be a shift large enough to permanently upend it.

Wishing to dispel the pessimistic narrative beginning to form, you focus in on Yoonji again. “Anyways,” you start, “how are you finding the Villa so far?”

“Certainly an interesting look behind the veil, though it’s really not ideal having to-” Yoonji’s cut off by the chirp of an incoming message on her phone. “Sorry, one sec,” she mumbles absentmindedly, but you don’t miss the way her face falls when she reads the message, immediately glancing directly across the table to where her brother sits.

To your growing concern, Yoongi is also reading a message on his phone, and he quietly excuses himself from the table, leaving his bowl half-eaten. He jerks his head towards the front door, and Yoonji manages a quick apology before they’re leaving the room.

All startled out of their separate conversations, the remaining members of the household sit in confused silence, enough that even Taehyung and Jungkook turn around from their phones.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asks in a worried voice. “Where’s Yoongi-hyung?”

Nobody replies, Jin just shaking his head with a grim frown and leaving the table himself, going after them.

“Guys,” Taehyung says more insistently, eyes not leaving the empty seats at the table.

“They both got a text,” you say with furrowed brows, “Yoongi and Yoonji. Must’ve been bad news, judging by their faces.”

“Jin-hyung’ll find out what’s going on,” Namjoon assures, though it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself, “let’s just clean up for them and wait for an update. Yeah?”

The two youngest nod solemnly, still with a single Airpod each bobbing in their opposite ears.

For a while, the group of you remaining sit in silence, as if caught up in some spell that would only be broken once Jin returned with some answers. The absence of Yoongi at the table is so much more pronounced, and you can’t help but feel the sickening worry swirl inside you when you look at his bowl, chopsticks strewn carelessly beside it.

Everyone is just waiting for bad news. You’ve felt this looming dread before, and it either came with a swoop of relief or a blow of despair. Your teeth find your thumbnail as you wait helplessly to see which one it’ll be.

It feels like an eternity before the door finally opens, making everyone jump, but only a few minutes have really passed. Jin is panting slightly, like he ran back from wherever Yoongi disappeared to.

“He’s-” he starts quickly, before a tremor passes over his face and he grimaces, jogging over and falling heavily into his chair at the table, face in his hands. “Their dad is in hospital. Heart attack.”

“Oh my god,” Namjoon breathes, brows knit together in sympathy. “Is he okay? Was it serious?”

Jin shrugs, looking up enough to run his hand over his face and take a shaky breath. “He’s alright for now, but apparently they need to make sure it doesn’t repeat anytime soon. If he settles, he’ll be fine, but there’s a chance that he might suffer another attack. Yoongi and Yoonji are going to the hospital now to stay with him until they’re more certain he’s stable. Just in case.”

“When is he coming back? Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook’s eyes are wide, shiny. He can’t stop fiddling with his fingers, self-soothing.

“Not for a while, I don’t think,” Jin divulges with a pained expression. “He needs to be there for his family right now. That’s all I know, I’m sorry.”

The front door creaks, and all of you instinctively whip your heads towards it, as if Yoongi himself might be returning already, but you’re greeted with the weary face of Producer Sejin, joining you at the table, taking Yoongi’s old spot. Taehyung frowns deeply at the choice, turning his face away.

“What’s going on?” you ask quickly. “What happens to Yoongi? And us?”

“Yoongi is… He was in a rush to get going, understandably, so we didn’t speak in great depth. But he in short stated that he’d return when his father was in better health if the place was still open for him. I’ve got in contact with the higher-ups, and we’ve agreed to put the show on a temporary hold.”

“On hold?” Jungkook asks in a nervous voice. “What does that even mean?”

Sejin clears his throat stiffly and clicks his tongue. “Well. It means we’re putting a stop to the game for now, in short. If Yoongi is able to return by the end of the week, we’ll resume as usual. Otherwise, we’ll consider him to have permanently left the competition, and we’ll be forced to continue the game without him.”

You frown, fighting the urge to cry. This all feels so wrong, like he’s been taken from you with little hope of reunion, and discussing it like administration feels so clinical. “So we’re just sitting here, not knowing if he’s going to come back home, waiting around in limbo?” As soon as you finish, it feels like the word home lingers in the air longer than the rest of them. And perhaps this house doesn’t feel like home to you, but it certainly seems like six of the seven pieces of home are around you right now, and it’s not the same without him away. By the way the others are solemn and red-eyed, you probably aren’t the only one that’s begun feeling that way.

Sejin just shakes his head slowly, as subdued as you all are. “Listen, I know this isn’t ideal. The boss wanted to film it, make a big drama out of it, and then kick him off the show for views. I’m doing the best I can here to compromise and give him some dignity.”

Eyes widening, you stare at the round eyes of the cameras in the living room. “Are you- are you even allowed to say that?”

“I cut the camera feeds,” Sejin says in a defeated tone, “the show is officially off-air for technical difficulties. You can do what you want here while you wait - hell, you can leave if you want, just please be prepared to come back on the Sunday. We’ll have a discussion about whether Yoongi can return, and what we’ll do if he doesn’t. Understood?”

“Understood,” Namjoon offers up for the group, and the producer leaves with another sigh and an attempt at a comforting smile. You can’t help but feel bad for him, working such an emotionally draining job, especially when you’ve heard nothing but bad things about his employer.

Once the room falls into quiet again, Jin stands up, chair legs scraping against the floor. “Okay, I think we should decide as a group what we’re wanting to do. Stay or go?”

You open your mouth to give your two cents, but before you can, Jungkook suddenly chokes on a sob and covers his face with his hands, Jimin immediately scooting his chair closer to wrap an arm around his shaking shoulders.

“Hey, what is it?” Jimin asks quietly, but the room is so silent that you all catch it. “Talk to me, bun. What is it?”

Jungkook takes a few stuttering breaths to compose himself, sniffling. “I don’t want you all to leave too,” he confesses, Jimin’s thumb catching a tear dangling on the tip of his nose, “isn’t Yoongi-hyung enough?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” the elder promises, pressing a kiss into his hairline before looking up at the rest of you, eyes widening intentionally. “We’ll stick together through this until he comes back, yeah? It’s not all bad. The cameras are off, remember? We can have a break now, we don’t need to worry about the show. Isn’t that nice?”

After a moment’s considering, Jungkook nods slowly. “‘t is nice,” he admits begrudgingly. “But only if everyone stays.”

You can’t help but smile fondly, getting up yourself to come behind him, stroking his hair back. “We’ll stay, of course we’ll stay. Let’s spend some time together tonight, we can put on a movie and snuggle, how about that?”

He perks up at the thought of this, glancing around the table as the others nod in affirmation. “I’ll bring down the blankets,” he bargains, cracking a small smile, and the rest of the room relaxes, immediately bursting into sound as everyone arranges the necessary supplies for a good quality movie night, almost back to normal.

Jungkook, as the member of the Villa in most urgent need of a pick-me-up, is given movie choosing privileges, so the seven of you tuck in for a rewatch of his favourite Spiderman movies, perhaps the only thing that can keep him glued to the screen.

At first, the absence feels overwhelming to you. Try as you might through the opening sequence, you can’t shake it. Your mind counts heads without thinking, keeps looking at the space on the couch where Yoongi liked to put his feet up. Even though you know it’s his father who is unwell, not him, there’s the sick swelling in your stomach that makes you feel like his departure is final, and shortly after the title card plays out, you’re quietly excusing yourself and stumbling to the back door, in desperate need of fresh air.

It’s cold outside, a brisk wind cutting through you. You barely make it around the corner out of sight before your legs buckle, and you let yourself fall into a pathetic crouch, your weight propped up against the side of the house as you try to suck the chilled air into your lungs.

The panic creeps up on you in swells, the irrational fear that Yoongi would leave the show and you’d never see him again and everything would fall apart suddenly feeling like a whole tsunami crashing against you. Your fingers claw at the exterior wall as you fall back onto your behind, unable to even keep yourself in a crouch.

More so than the intrusive thoughts, it’s the image of Yoongi’s face falling, of him rushing out of the house in frantic distress that replays in your mind and leaves you suffocating. He looked so scared, your calm, reliable Yoongi. He was like a pillar, but that news was a fell swoop he couldn’t stay strong against. Your heart burns for him, cramping and aching in your chest.

For a moment, you picture yourself staying out here, gasping for breath until the sun goes down. You feel alone, more than ever since coming here, and even as the thought spooks you, there’s no energy in your body to do anything about it.

Just as your breaths start to sound more like death rattles and you curl your face towards the ground, a warmth envelopes your back, arms circling your middle and lifting you up.

“Hey, breathe, breathe with me, Y/n. I’m here.”

You recognise the voice. You recognise the built torso holding you steady, but your mind isn’t putting the pieces together, and so you simply squeeze your eyes shut and allow yourself to be maneuvered around there are hands on your face and a deep voice instructing you to look at me. I’m here; look at me.

You crack your eyes open, body heaving with the effort it takes to get any oxygen in your lungs, but you’re met with the soulful brown eyes of Kim Namjoon, narrowed in concern.

His hands are warm despite the frigid air outside, and you let yourself melt into him, eyes sinking to watch his lips mouth instructions, demonstrating exaggerated breathing for you to follow.

You feel distinctly like you might vomit, but you force yourself to match his breaths. The shuddering in and stilted out aren’t as fluid as his, but slowly your heart doesn’t thud in your ears and your body doesn’t shake as violently.

You feel damp, sweating all over, and your whole body aches, but your hearing begins to properly tune in again, coherence creeping back. “Na-Namjoon,” you gasp, wishing you had the energy to grab his arms or hug him or something other than lying limp against the wall of the house.

“Shh, hey, don’t strain yourself. Take it easy. I’m here.” He’s crouching in front of you, eyes locked onto you as he continues to hold you steady, jaw kept aloft by his hands. “Keep breathing, and it’ll go away. It’s a panic attack, I’ve had my fair share. You’ll come right.”

Trusting him despite the persisting burn in your chest, you let him coach your breathing for several more minutes, the heightened air influx making your head go light and floaty.

Once a counted breath turns into a yawn of exhaustion, you know the worst has passed. It leaves you boneless, not a single ounce of power left in your muscles, but you can breathe again, and it’s all thanks to the man across from you.

“I’ve never had one before,” you manage, voice cracking, “not like that.”

Namjoon’s lips press together in sympathy, and he turns to prop himself against the side of the house beside you, letting you continue breathing independently. “Is it Yoongi-hyung?”

You nod weakly, and the academic hums in confirmation. “I used to get panic attacks a lot in university. I used to hate them, thought they meant I was weak. Like I couldn’t handle the pressure as much as I thought I could. But, you know, these days I just figure I’m only panicking because it means so much to me. And I don’t think that makes me weak at all. It just means I care. Don’t feel ashamed about this, Y/n. All it means is that you care about hyung a lot.”

All the breath in your lungs leaves you in one rush as you prop your head in your hands, knees tucked towards your chest. “Yeah.” You wish you had something more appreciative to say, but your mind is waterlogged, weighed down and not functioning.

Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind the curt response. “I care about him a lot too. He’s like the glue for us, isn’t he? I’m worried to fall apart without him here keeping us in line. But we survived before we knew him and we’ll survive now. What’s better is supporting each other and waiting to see how we can support Yoongi-hyung, too.”

“You’re right,” you admit with a heavy breath, wiggling your toes to will energy back into them. “We’ll be okay.”

Namjoon bends sideways to bump your shoulder warmly. “That’s the spirit. Now; I’m happy to stay out here as long as you need, but Jungkook was the first one to notice you had been gone for a while, and I think he’s probably getting concerned by now. If you’re up to it, I can give you a hand to get inside and join the others again. What do you reckon?”

You lean your head back against the wall, taking a moment to consider. “What movie is he putting on next?”

“He mentioned wanting to check out Paw Patrol on Netflix.”

“Let me die out here,” you plead weakly.

Namjoon laughs, the sound like comfort itself, and stands up, offering you a hand. “Come on, kitten, up we get.”

In the end, the Netflix viewings manage to distract you for the rest of the night. When your limbs are tangled together and snacks are flowing, it’s easy to tune out of reality a bit and focus on the television screen in the comfort of shared company. Jungkook clears space on the couch for you the second you return, and clings to you for hours, his chin on your shoulder. You don’t complain, feeling soothed by the physical closeness. But the hours pass, and when the majority of you can no longer hold in your yawns, Seokjin gets up to turn the lights back on and clean up.

“Let’s get some rest,” he decides, and it’s that return to the real world that immediately dampens the atmosphere again, the group of you turning solemn. You pause to pull out your phone, sending Yoongi a quick message of support, and that you all missed him already, but no reply comes.

Without words being spoken, the seven of you remaining find yourselves flocking together as you make your way up to bed. Jin flanks the maknae as Namjoon and Hoseok lean heavily into each other, the four of them disappearing into Jin’s room. You naturally fall into step with the remaining two men, Taehyung linking his arm into yours and holding you close all the way to Jimin’s room.

Somehow, the house is too quiet. Even though Yoongi wasn’t a particularly noisy housemate, his absence cloaks the air.

You have no energy to shower. Washing your face is as much as you can manage, and Taehyung is even more despairing than you are, slumped on the toilet seat as Jimin cleans his face for him.

The uncertainty is what makes your heart flutter on edge, unable to wind down, and you know from the restrained looks of fear and distress in the guys’ eyes that they feel the same. The show would be undoubtably ruined if Yoongi couldn’t return. But more important than that, Yoongi would be ruined if he lost his father so suddenly.

Knowing Yoongi is hurting makes you ache, and you cling to your lovers like they’re your anchors in a churning sea, tucking your face firmly into Taehyung’s shoulder. It soothes you a little to be pinned between them, but the three of you still lie awake as the minutes blink by agonisingly slow.

At some point, you must fall into a fitful sleep, because when a sudden noise fills the room, it rouses you aggressively, and you almost kick Jimin’s shin in the process. Grunting, the half-asleep man rubs his face and twists around, fumbling on the nightstand for the offending noise.

It’s Taehyung’s phone, vibrating against the wooden table, and once Jimin blinks twice at the glaring screen he gasps and yanks the charger out, sitting up in bed. “It’s hyung,” he declares in a voice more vulnerable than you’d ever heard from him before. “Wake Tae.”

You force yourself to dispel those last few wisps of sleep from your brain, and gently shake Taehyung awake. According to the clock on the nightstand, it’s almost two in the morning, but your heart leaps as Yoongi’s face fills the phone screen, looking right at the three of you.

“I thought you would be together,” he states with a rueful smile, though you can see that it doesn’t quite reach his reddened eyes. “Sorry for calling so late.”

“Don’t apologise, hyung,” Taehyung whines, half of his weight on you as he leans in close, “we were so worried about you. How’s your dad?”

Yoongi’s brows furrow beneath mussed hair. “Not great,” he admits. “A little more stable, at least, but he’s pretty confused right now. Nurses worry that it might have affected his brain.”

Your heart sinks, both at the thought of a relatively young man suffering such awful health complications, but also at how Yoongi was trying to hide his exhaustion and distress. “Oh my god.”

“Mm, we should know soon what the damage is,” Yoongi explains further, rubbing his eyes with the hand not holding his phone aloft, “and if he’s alright I can head back h- head back to the Villa. He’s just been sleeping a lot today so… We don’t really know how he’ll be until he’s conscious for enough time. Yoonji’s with him at the moment, I just wanted to duck out and give you guys an update. Where are the others?”

“Jin-hyung’s room,” Jimin answers, even as he’s throwing back the covers. “They’ll want to hear from you themselves, just hold on a minute.”

You hear Yoongi’s voice echoing from the phone and strain to make out his words as Jimin heads to the door. “No, no, don’t wake them. I actually wanted to ask if you’d like to come visit? Of course none of you know my dad, and he doesn’t know you, but- Well, Yoonji and I could do with some company.”

You jump up, rushing to Jimin’s side. As he naturally accommodates your presence and pulls you flush against him, you lift your face up to the phone. “We’ll be there,” you assure Yoongi, “just please get some rest tonight. It’s been a rough day.”

Yoongi’s pained smile breaks your heart, and Jimin leads the phone back to the bed so that Taehyung can say a final goodbye before the three of you hang up and crawl, exhausted but somewhat relieved, back into bed.

#bts x reader #bts x reader smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #the gentlemen #tgm #yoongi x reader #jin x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader

386 notes · View notes

sugamamacustard · 3 years

Text

Lips like sugar~

Pairing: Alpha! Toru Oikawa x Omega! Reader

Genre: NSFW. semi-fluff?

Request: Hey!! Can we get a sugar daddy alpha!oikawa; who's out with friends in public and sees his f!omega bby with some friends, but her group of friends decided to approach his group, and she tried her best to distance herself from him, and he was just having none of that, and became super annoyed and possessive in front of the group, later making it clear that he did have actual feelings for her? AAAA sorry if that doesn't make sense!!! I hope you're taking care of yourself <3

Summary: Toru Oikawa had no qualms about paying a pretty little thing to hang off his arm, but he expects you to be at his beck and call for the price tag you come with. And if you aren’t? He’ll put you back into your place real quick.

Author’s Note: Holy f u c k I cannot explain how much I loved this request-- Please don’t make tiktoks on my work I might cry

Requests: Open!

NSFW Warnings: Fem! Reader, Uhm....It gets soft at the end tho- Mirror sex

➵ You were so, so pretty.

➵This was a fact that Oikawa knew.

➵ While the price tag you came with wasn’t as pretty, he was willing to pay it.

➵ He had the funds to do so, and though he wouldn’t admit it, you were always worth it.

➵Always.

➵ He would hope you saw him as more than a walking, talking bank account. Especially now that, not only were your friends, but his as well were all settling down.

➵ He could see himself settling with you, having at least two pups, big yard, white picket fence.

➵ “Shittykawa!”

➵ Shaking his head, he caught up to his friends (Which were visiting him in Argentina), taking over and leading them around.

➵ It had taken a lot of asking and begging to get them here in the first place and he was not going to let this opportunity go. Not one bit!

➵ He took them to the best street vendors and street stalls, encouraging them to enjoy the bright liveliness that South American culture had to offer.

➵ Not to mention the girls and guys a like that were more than eye candy. They were more like a whole ass eye buffet.

➵While Oikawa wouldn’t admit it, they all felt lackluster compared to you

➵ A nudge from Mattsun had him looking in another direction, his eyes widening as he saw you.

➵ You were glammed out, tastefully of course, with jewels and gems that he either gifted you or gifted you the money to get so (He assumed); hair flowing and shining beautifully as your eyes glimmered.

➵ Iwaizumi was already talking to one of the girls you were hanging with, and Makki and Mattsun were quick to pick up the other two. Leaving you and him.

➵ He shot you one of his coy smirks, sauntering up to you, quickly wrapping an arm around your waist before you had a chance to react.

➵ Your hands rested on his chest, trying to discreetly push him away.

➵ His grip only tightened as he leaned into your ear.

➵ “Come on, pretty thing, your fine with me everywhere else.”

➵ Truth be told, you had tried separating from Oikawa lately because unwanted-nor needed- feelings began arising.

➵ Stupid things like butterflies in your gut and your cheeks heating up whenever you thought about the brunet.

➵ Swallowing those thoughts, you plastered a smile on your face, leaning into him and acting the role you were payed to do so.

➵Oikawa seemed to appreciate it, as he played the role as your alpha as well.

➵It felt intimate in every way, meeting Oikawa’s friends, learning old memories and anecdotes of their highschool days.

➵In a way, it made you yearn for more, but that was a strict rule you kept for yourself.

➵ The minute feelings were brought in, you stepped out.

➵ You will admit you have kept Oikawa far longer than you should’ve, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let him go.

➵ By the end of the day, you and your friends left with waves behind you, Oikawa dragging a finger along the bottom side of his chin. A wordless demand.

➵ ‘Tonight. My place.’

➵ You merely nodded, scampering along to prepare for the night to come.

___NSFW UNDER THE CUT___

“Oikawa-” You yelped as a harsh smack was delivered to your ass, making you reel and your back arch. Slick gushed out of your cunt, drenching his and your thighs, but he was still relentless.

“That’s not my name.” He snarled, nipping at your spine as he pulled your hips in time with his thrusts. The necklaces you wore that day were still on, glimmering in the limited light as it bounced with your breasts. The chain was still cold against your skin, making your skin chill over with goosebumps. “Last names are past us, don’t you think, Y/N?”

You whined, withering as you tried falling onto your hands to take some stress off of your knees. The mirror in front of you was foggy at the edges as it reflected your own sopping cunt back at you. At this point, you couldn’t resist the thought of having this every night. Having Oi- Toru behind you, figuratively or literally, sounded like a dream come true-- and not because of the money, you honestly couldn’t care less at this point.

Licking your lips, you bared your neck to the alpha, head falling back onto his shoulders as one of his hands snaked forward to circle your clit. Your hips bucked forward at the shot of pleasure but he stayed prevalent. “Toru-Fuck, please, I wanna cum so badly.”

“Cum for me pretty girl. Go on, gush all over your alpha’s cock.” His hand sped up as his eyes watched his dick slip in and out of you, slick trails following after it. It was erotic and breath-taking all in one.

You obeyed his words, back arching as you reached back into Toru’s hair, yanking as you clutched around him. His knot was stuffed into your still pulsating cunt, making him groan as he emptied into the condom he had put on earlier. Nonetheless, you were stuck together for the next ten minutes, panting and coming down from you high.

“At the risk of making the next ten minute awkward, I wanted to say I really like you.” Toru whispered into your back, holding you close with his arms looped around your abdomen.

Licking your lips, you relaxed back onto him. “I think I like you too.” You paused before laughing. “And not your checkbook.”

“That’s good. Don’t think my poor heart could take it.” He himself laughed before continuing. “I have a courting gift in the drawer, but right now we’re a little...tied up.”

A quick maneuver had you laying on his chest as he laid on his back, hands trailing up and down your sides.

“All the money you gave me went into a trust fund, in case you were curious. If you want it back I’d be more than happy too-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there. That’s our money.”

859 notes · View notes

heauxzenji · 3 years

Note

I'm not sure if u take requests but if u do could u write a NSFW alphabet for Issei?¿ ♡

So lemme tell you something- I got this req and the first thing that came out of my mouth was BIIIIIIIIITTTTCCCCHHHHHH

And I proceeded to scream cry and yell about this for idk how long. I put so much thought into this- I literally wrote it in almost one night completely. I have SO much to say about this man. My Issei brainrot is only fueled by my stupid horny Pisces brain- WHICH HE ALSO HAS god bless him. Anyway enough about me this turned my mind into soup and it all fell out of my ears enjoy ur fucking horse cock

NSFW Alphabet- Matsukawa Issei

No thoughts head he. 😌

gn!reader focused, obviously nsfw....

𝕬 - 𝕬𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊

Best Service Dom. Best Dom EVER. Anything you want you get, you have to only say the words. Food? Already ordered so it would be there by the time you finished. Cuddles? His arms are wide open and his body is very warm. Sit in a bubble bath and scroll through your favorite online stores? The bath is nice and warm and his credit card is at your disposal. He takes amazing care of you, and will stop at nothing to make you feel secure/safe/happy at all times..

𝕭 - 𝕭𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙

Welll…. I… we all know what it is. I’ll explain more later but in addition to that he also has the most amazing arms/abs. He’s very lean, definitely naturally so. Doesn’t need to work out but does so anyway keep toned.

𝕮 - 𝕮𝖚𝖒

Likes to cum inside you, but simply so that he can watch it ooze out of your hole. Sometimes he’ll even keep fucking you after he’s finished to see himself push it back in even after it’s out.

𝕯 - 𝕯𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝕾𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙

I hate adding this but he has a foot fetish. Not like a hardcore creepy kind of foot fetish- he just likes to suck a toe here and there. But only if they’re freshly pedicured… he’s very picky. He’ll give foot massages all the time tho if you ask him. He just never tells anyone about it because he knows his friends will clown him.

Not ur foot but close enough he would get you one of those little golden name anklets and kiss it every time he lifts your leg over his shoulder. 👀🦋

𝕰 - 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊

Absolutely. He’s done a lot in his life, and is not short on any stories of past encounters. He is kind of a sex encyclopedia, but he’s very casual about it. If you bri bc up something you wanna try, 11/10 times he’s going to not only have done it, but be able to suggest ways for you to make it better- with several anecdotes.

𝕱 - 𝕱𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕻𝖔𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Doesn’t just like doggy- it is his lifeblood. It’s easier for him to control your movements while also making sure that he can bury himself all the way inside. He can have a vice grip on your hips one moment, his fists full of your hair the next- and if he starts spanking you well… that’s between you two and god.

He does like plain old missionary too, but only bc he can see himself in your tummy.

𝕲 - 𝕲𝖔𝖔𝖋𝖞

It makes him laugh sometimes when you struggle to take him all at once. He thinks it cute that you try, but it’s hilarious how big your head gets sometimes. He has to fuck you dumb and remind you that you can’t do that.

𝕳 - 𝕳𝖆��𝖗

Trims, but not super short. He does wax his happy trail tho bc it makes him self-conscious.

𝕴 - 𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖈𝖞

Can actually be very romantic if he wants to. He is a Pisces, after all. He does enjoy foreplay and the sensuality of that to get you prepped, and he takes extra care to make sure you’re fully ready. He is going to be hard on you, but understands that he has to take good care of you, and he does

𝕵 - 𝕵𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕺𝖋𝖋

Daily. At least once. It keeps the stress away and livens his mood. He does it as soon as he wakes up, and then if he’s having a really hard day or difficulty sleeping, he can do it to ease his nerves.

𝕶 - 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐

Size, obvious because everyone is smaller than him Skdkfkf he’s a giant. He’s 6’2 and his cock is at least 3 feet of that.

Daddy Kink, self explanatory mostly. It’s just so fucking sweet on his ears, his baby cooing for their daddy, trying so hard to work his entire cock into their tiny hole, trying to be so good for him… he loses it every time.

Voyeurism, likes watching you touch yourself. He finds it amusing how you think you can get yourself there without his help. You both know that’s impossible, but it turns him on to see you try.

Praise, again- he loves to make you feel special. And you work so hard fitting all of him inside, he has to tell you how good of a job you’re doing, especially because he’s appreciative of you letting him impale you. He has to let you know.

Mutual Masturbation, Kinda goes with voyeurism. If you’re away from each other, you’re definitely going to have sex via FaceTime- he just wants to see you, and also wants you to see him. To him, it lets you know you’re the only one that can get him there, and that your presence alone- even if he’s not touching you, is more than enough.

Lingerie, Loves nothing more than seeing you all pretty for him. He also just really likes the feeling of lace or silk against his fingertips He can get out of control and rip your sets tho- but don’t worry, death is a very lucrative business- He will buy you several replacements.

𝕷 - 𝕷𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

LOVES car sex. If the mood strikes, he WILL pull over. But really, he’ll take it wherever he can get it.

𝕸 - 𝕸𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

He’s very eager to please. A little lazy, yes, but at his core he wants to make sure you’re feeling good.

𝕹 - 𝕹𝖔!

He has done literally everything at least once and the one thing he just can’t get into is piss. One bad experience and a 3 month uti later he’s sworn off it for good.

𝕺 - 𝕺𝖗𝖆𝖑

Not his favorite. He could honestly go with or without it personally, just because there’s so much of him. But he will happily fuck your throat if you want him to, and will go down on you for hours to make sure you’re truly prepped. For someone who’s not a big fan of it, he’s actually AMAZING with his mouth. It’s lazy but in the best way possible.

𝕻 - 𝕻𝖆𝖈𝖊

Starts off slow so you’re good to go, but will pick up the pace as you stretch out. He does enjoy a few slow deep thrusts in between drilling you into oblivion tho. He never tries to make your guts into a smoothie on purpose, it just kinda happens that way.

𝕼 - 𝕼𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖎𝖊

He will never say no to quickie. The amount of fast food bathrooms and abandoned parking lots you’ve seen is astronomical. The amount of times Makki has kicked you out of his apartment for trying something while he goes to the bathroom is even higher.

𝕽 - 𝕽𝖎𝖘𝖐

He's the classic degen. bf who reaches across the table at the same time as your dad when you go “daddy can you pass the salt?”

So yes, he’s definitely going to tease you under a table at thanksgiving dinner.

He’s really going to have you whenever he wants- even if it comes at the expense of your pride/morals sometimes.

𝕾 - 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆

Can go on forever if you let him. Will overstim you to hell and back before he even thinks about cumming. Doesn’t even know he’s doing it- he’s so used to fucking you brainless that he doesn’t realize it’s too much. But he is SUPER apologetic about it and will make sure to treat you extra carefully.

𝕿 - 𝕿𝖔𝖞

He actually has a few for when he’s feeling lazy. He used to run through fleshlights like they were tictacs but he’s since finally found one that he won’t break.

He got most of them for free because he worked in a sex shop during college- he was very popular.

𝖀 - 𝖀𝖓𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗

Yes. He will 100% rile you up with touches that seem innocent enough in nature, but are a tad bit too low, or linger on for a bit too long.

Will also give you “the look” in public and pretend he doesn’t know what you’re talking about- he definitely does.

𝖁 - 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖚𝖒𝖊

Vocal in bed, especially with praise. Will constantly tell you how good you’re doing or how good you feel. Doesn’t moan a lot, but they slip out from time to time. Instead it’s a lot of deep breaths, groans, and curses.

𝖂 - 𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖉

If mortuary school hadn’t have worked out, he and Makki were going to start their own porn company. They actually have a very solid business plan. They made a pact to sit on it for now, since Issei is working at the funeral home.

𝖃 - 𝖃-𝕽𝖆𝖞

LMFAOOOOO

Literally a foot long. Longer actually. I’m going to honestly say 13. No I won’t take it back. Perfect thickness too. Honestly it’s like… god really took his time and got it fucking right. Everything about his physique is perfect- it would only make sense his cock is that perfect to match. Color is even all around, the head is bubblegum pink. There’s also one very prominent vein on the underside, and a few tinier trails of veins on the top. The statue of David? Don’t know her. Only know the statue of Issei.

𝖄 - 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌

High sex drive, but he can keep it subdued if he has to. Especially because he knows he’s too much for most people. He's not shy about it though. Is CONSTANTLY horny on main. Not that you mind.

𝖅 - 𝖅𝖟𝖟

Service Dom through and through. He won’t sleep until you do, and even if he’s dead tired, he won’t sleep at all if you’re staying awake. He’s going to do everything to take care of you and your needs first. When you do sleep he likes to hold your head to his chest and will press his nose down into your hair so he can fall asleep surrounded by your scent.

Taglist Starseeds (check ur privacy settings if your url is in bold): @honey-makki @crushzone @yumekosgamblingroom @boujiesav @onesingleravioli @ushijimasfarmhat @trouvelle @nekoma-hoe @right-shoe-jpg @atsumusc0ck @ukaic @nivky0-0 @animoozies @charmarsmith

#daisy’s red light district 🚨#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hc #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq headcanons #hq x reader #mattsun x reader #hq smut #mattsun smut #haikyuu drabble #hq drabble #haikyuu fic #hq fic

510 notes · View notes

thisnoodlewritesao3 · 3 years

Text

Please Don't Say Goodbye | Tsukishima Kei/Reader

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Reader, Yamaguchi Tadashi

Pairings: Tsukishima Kei/Reader

Warnings: light swearing, crying, implied panic attacks, arguments, yelling, ummm lemme know if I missed anything

Word Count: 2181

A/N: This was meant to be a drabble- okay, in my defence, I've had such writers block and apparently the feels were necessary soooo. This is 1 of 2 fic ideas that were sent to me by @satan-ruler-of-hells for a prompt thing I did (idk if I can find the thing) and the next one is Tendou. So, maybe get ready for more feels of my almost 5 am angst. I also did not proof-read this, sooooo

--------

How had things ended up like this?

Every little thing was like the calm before the storm - the most tense calm that had ever existed; you were walking on eggshells, and maybe so was he, but you couldn’t help it. At least, you thought you couldn’t. Each attempt to try and fix the mess around you only ended up in more heartbreak.

The storm that always seemed to be headed in your direction had tore apart the home you’d meticulously built together. Plates and picture frames shattered to the ground; glass leaving you walking on bleeding feet. The flowers of your love torn apart somewhere in the distance now. Breath stolen from your lungs, but not from those kisses he’d give you back in high school, not from the way he’d dance with you around his bedroom (only to shove you onto the bed when his brother barged in), not from your outrageous laughter at something stupid that had happened. This was a breath stolen from countless nights arguing, screaming, trying to gain the upper hand in a situation where you were both at a standstill. A breath stolen from your heaving words as you scrunch your hands into your roots, pull your legs close to your chest and shove yourself into a corner while he slammed the door and left to God knows where. Breath stolen from the realization that maybe things just weren’t working like they used to, and that it was okay to love him, but to not be in love with him.

Tonight was just another picture perfect example of why you weren’t meant to be together. You’d come home late from work (because of some stupid assignment that you just wanted to finish today). He was sitting on the couch, scrolling through Netflix for something to watch. Honestly, you just wanted to eat something, so you didn’t bother greeting him, but the moment he noticed your presence in the house, he was hot on your tail.

“Where were you?” His voice sharp as daggers, digging under your skin and tearing you apart piece by piece. His arms are crossed over his chest, eyes so judgmental you feel like you’re in court. Nothing you say is the right answer, so you choose to not say anything. Apparently, that wasn’t the right answer either - this you find out when his iron grip settles on your shoulder and forces you to turn around.

“Hey-” you winced, trying to pry his fingers off.

“Where were you?” He repeated, basically growling at you through his gritted teeth.

“I was at work.” You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back towards the fridge, trying to ease the beating of your heart. In, hold, out. You repeat to yourself, barely remembering what all those instagram therapists had told you.

He scoffed, finally releasing his grip in favor of slamming the fridge door shut, “really? Because the last time I checked, your work ended two hours ago. What could you possibly have been doing for two whole hours?” He was in your face now, making you know how pissed he was.

But you already knew. You’d always known. Why did he need to try and make it so blindingly obvious to you?

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Kei, I was working. What part of that is so hard to understand?” You snapped back, moving away from him with a heavy sigh. At this point, you didn’t bother holding back the venom in your words. You knew he had issues (and you knew why) but did that mean he should take it out on you? No. Fuck.

“Two hours! Y/N, I was waiting two hours. I was going to take us to dinner, we were going to have a nice time.” He followed after you, closing every cupboard door you opened, trying to get your attention. “But you didn’t even send me a text. Were you too busy fuck-”

“Oh my God!” You yelled over him, spinning around to face him with your pure unfiltered aggression.

Back and forth you went for what felt like hours. Tears were acid down your cheeks, your spit a very special concoction of venom just for him. And yet, even as you were dry heaving in the kitchen sink, yelling more obscenities at him, you could never seem to stop. Neither could he.

Tsukishima Kei was known for a lot of things, being an asshole was one of them. That you knew too well.

For a while, though, things were good. He loved you. You loved him.

As he sits there, accusing you over and over of cheating on him, even though you hadn’t and you wouldn’t. God.

When had he become so anxious and persistent that things were going wrong? Yes, they were going wrong, but not for the reasons he keeps saying. It’s driving you insane, to the point where you can’t even remember those stupid breathing techniques, or grounding techniques, or anything.

This argument had lost the plot at some point around when he started yelling at you for doing the dishes wrong (you still insisted there wasn’t a wrong way to do them). So you bit back that his clothes were stupid, or that dinosaurs were stupid, something. Something was stupid.

“If you have so many problems with the way I choose to live my life, then get the fuck out.” You screamed, slamming your fists down onto the table and pointing to the door. His expression was scrunched up into something completely unrecognizable - a fine mixture of hatred and anguish. His chest rising and falling so rapidly you’re amazing he’s still standing. His hair is a complete and utter mess, so many times he’d ran his hand through it to try and make sense of the nonsense you were both spouting.

“Fine, I will!” He yelled back, voice hoarse from the past two hours.

You watched him head towards the door without a second thought, grabbing his coat, shoving his shoes on. You didn’t have the energy to call out after him, no matter how much your heart begged you to.

And your heart did beg you to; but it had already accepted that the end had been coming for too long.

You lean back against one of the cupboards, looking up at that one crack in the ceiling that he’d insisted he’d get around to fixing but something had always come up.

If you had to say what was wrong in your relationship, it would just be something. Something was wrong, and neither of you knew what it was, but something would be your downfall. Something filled the air with poison and made you destined to hate each other; something danced around in your words and twisted the meaning; something caressed your cheek as tears fell.

Something was your downfall and you didn’t have the energy to fight it.

So, maybe you’d call in sick the next day, and your boss would believe you because your voice sounded like hell; and maybe you’d spend the entire day lying in bed despite the fact your stomach was beginning for some nutrients; and maybe it would feel good to not have that nagging voice that you shouldn’t sleep in all day.

But today would have felt nicer with him by your side.

If there was one thing Tsukishima Kei was good at (after a lot of practice), it was making you feel just a little bit better with his empty promises and sweet nothings.

So, maybe you’d dressed yourself in his shirt and breath in him; and maybe you’d grab that dinosaur plushie you’d bought him for his birthday so many years ago and pull it to your chest; maybe you’d sleep on his side of the bed even though his pillow wasn’t as fluffy as yours; and maybe, just maybe, you watched his favourite movie on repeat, hoping it would bring him back to you.

Those were all maybe’s. But maybe they did happen, and you wanted nothing more than to be in his arms and tease him for his glasses that he insisted were cool. Or to have him laugh at you for the fact you majored in literature, despite the fact you weren’t good with words.

When your phone rang, you didn’t hesitate in picking it up, almost too excited for his voice, “Kei-”

“Y/N…” Yamaguchi’s voice was soft, understanding. It killed your fire of excitement in an instant.

You listened to him talk, something about how Tsukishima had decided you needed a break and would be staying at his place for a little while. Something about how he still loved you, but he didn’t want to keep hurting you like this.

It wasn’t a surprise that you didn’t manage to keep it together and broke out crying all over again, basically screaming and begging for things to be okay. There was no doubt in your mind, if Tsukishima was in the room with Yamaguchi, then he’d heard your cries.

“I’ll be better…” you whimpered, after far too long, “I’ll be nice. A-and… I won’t make fun of his glasses. Or dinosaurs. Please… please, Yamaguchi, please tell him to come home!” You cried out, unsure if you even managed to breathe.

He was silent on the line. You couldn’t take it. The silence, you wanted the noise. You’d prefer the arguing over this.

“I’m sorry…” Yamaguchi said weakly, and you knew how much it was hurting him to say this.

He hung up the phone and you were left as a shell of yourself.

And yet, your life must go on. So, for two months, you pushed your problems to the side and kept dredging forward in the hope that the answer to your problems was in one of these articles. Hoping that your co-worker would tell you some shitty anecdote that would distract you for just a little while.

Yo couldn’t look at your apartment anymore, not as little pieces of him were still littered everywhere.

Only, one day, you came home and he wasn’t anywhere. You didn’t notice it, not at first, but then you saw his mug from your museum visit in his third year of high school wasn’t next to your matching one. And then neither were his books on the shelf in your living room, or under the coffee table. His clothes gone from the closet. Every inch. Every detail. Every bit of him you had left had disappeared in the span of one work day.

And you were left with nothing.

With as much energy as you could muster, you turned and ran in the general direction of Yamaguchi’s house (which was hopeless, considering you had the directional capability of a broken compass and the stamina of a dead horse). You really were hopeless as you dialed his number, ignoring the way the moon taunted you in the sky.

He answered, for whatever reason, and you let out a breath. “What is it?” His tone was even, but something told you he was barely holding it together.

“Is this it?” Was all you could say. Head dizzy as you looked for Yamaguchi’s house - which you just knew was somewhere around here.

“It’s been it for a long time.” He really sounded robotic, like he was reading from a script.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Your voice broke as you ran, ignoring the splintering pain in the balls of your feet, “you thought making Yamaguchi say you needed a break, and then disappearing for two months, and then only reappearing to take your things back was the answer?” You cried out.

“You know-” his voice cracked and he stopped speaking. God, it hurt you so much.

“I never wanted this.” Tears were pouring down your cheeks.

“You think I did?”

“No-”

“I tried, Y/N, I tried so hard. But you would never listen to me!”

“I tried too, Kei!” You tried not to yell, and you hoped that it worked.

Some miracle brought you to Yamaguchi’s door, the one you only recognized because of the little frog statue on the windowsill. You pressed the doorbell, hoping for the best.

“I tried because I loved you. And I waited for you, I waited and hoped you’d come back. I-” you ran your hands through your hair once again. “I know we aren’t the best, that something is always wrong, but we can work on this. We can… fuck, I don’t know. You were the smart one…” he let out a low chuckle laced with pain. “But we can work something out, can’t we?”

There was a pause, and Yamaguchi opened the door, shocked to see you. Your breath hitched but neither of you spoke.

“I… I can’t do this anymore…” he admitted, and you felt your heart shatter. “Y/N, this is it…”

You could see Tsukishima pacing in the living room just down the hall, and you know Yamaguchi knows you’ve seen him. His phone pulled away from his face, finger shaking over that familiar red button.

“Please don’t say goodbye…” you called out.

--------

General Taglist:

@pies-writes-and-more @satan-ruler-of-hells @dekuspet @samkysnks @tobi-momo @kaleidoscopekai @elektrosonix @realcube @darkvadeeer

If you want to be added to the taglist, send a DM or an ask :D

#thisnoodlewrites #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #hq tsukishima #hq yamaguchi #haikyuu angst #tw: implied panic attacks #reader #break up angst?

115 notes · View notes

meepmorpperaltiago · 3 years

Text

Slipping Through My Fingers All The Time

I started a marvel binge about a month ago and I’ve been hyperfixating on spideychelle for a while now – so I started this fic and then realised the last prompt of @mjweek fit perfectly! This is a crazy long fic by my standards but I hope you like it!

The first time May hears Michelle Jones’ name is after the Washington Incident. She doesn’t particularly register it, not with everything else happening in their lives at that point. She’s just another one of his classmates, only just edging into the category of “friend”, if something like that can even be categorised at all.

She doesn’t hear the girls’ nickname for a while either.

Until one day, when Peter casually asks: “Would you mind if MJ slept over along with Ned?”

“MJ?”, she questions, turning towards him with a puzzled look.

“Michelle Jones... you know, the new Academic Decathlon Captain? Her friends call her MJ and now I guess Ned and I allowed to call her that since we’re her friends”.

She seems to bond to their group increasingly after Homecoming and then after the Blip. She’s not rude by any means, but she doesn’t really say a lot in comparison to her friends, so May doesn’t ever particularly chat to her in any depth beyond polite greetings and queries about being picked up after late night study -sessions-turned-sleepovers.

But as a platonic trio, the three of them seem to be on good ground.

Looking back, she’s not sure she could pinpoint when exactly when the true shift happened.

Slowly but steadily, Peter mentions her more and more in a way he’s never talked about any other friend before, even more than he used to mention Liz. It reaches a point where she expects to hear about the latest “badass” thing that MJ did whenever she asks him how school was that day, right alongside tales of their gang’s usual exploits and the regular gossip of Midtown. It’s not to an unhealthy or obsessive extent, but it’s enough for her to realise that something must be going on between them, even if it’s just a spark.

Not wanting to put pressure on Peter to talk about it, she waits patiently for her suspicions to be confirmed, because she becomes more and more certain every day that there’s something there.

A few weeks before the big school trip to Europe and what they’re both hoping will be a much deserved break, she comes home to Peter furiously scribbling something onto a scrappy frayed bit of paper, his entire face scrunched into fierce concentration.

“Are you designing a new suit or something?”, she casually asks, that being the only thing she can think of in spite of her nephews’ lack of artistic talent.

“Oh no”, is his slightly shy response. “It’s just... a plan...”

That confuses her even more and she sits down beside him, finally looking at what he’s been writing down whilst asking him: “a plan for what? World domination? Have you decided to go all angsty hero turned supervillain on us?”

He laughs at that and then explains himself. “I really like MJ. I wanna tell her how I feel in Europe and I thought it would be better to just write it down rather than winging it. I tried to just be honest with her earlier today and after I said that I had something I wanted to tell her I kind of froze... and ran... very fast... and elephant like... a lot of people stared, it was very noisy and embarrassing.”

She sits with him for about an hour after that, helping him to develop his pretty loose plan into something more concrete. She also had the sad thought that if Tony was still around he would’ve been all over this situation, helping Peter. It’s yet another figure in his life who will never be there for the big moments, but all she can do is try her best for him, like she has done since he was 4 years old and they all realised his parents’ weren’t coming back from that damn plane crash.

In the end, the trip of course gets derailed by (what else?) more superhero stuff and even before what follows a few weeks later, she feels awful that he can’t take a pause from stress and danger for even two weeks, at the age of just 16. He’s still just a kid, but the weight of the world never seems to lift from his shoulders.

But the one positive is that it looks like he didn’t need the plan. When they’re driving home from the airport, the first thing he talks and talks and talks about is everything that happened with him and MJ. Apparently she loved the necklace even though it was broken, they kissed 3 times on Tower Bridge (and a few more times on the way home) and now they’re going on a date soon. She questions if swinging around New York might be a bit intense, but he shrugs her off, saying that it’ll be fine.

She finds out later that it wasn’t fine, but everything that follows after their date completely crashes into everything and makes that detail anecdotal.

Everything changes after Mysterio’s video – at first he runs for far too long and she’s so worried and it breaks her heart to read all the awful, untrue things that damn Daily Bugle keeps on pumping out. The physical copy would be better off used as toilet paper in her opinion (she can’t think of anything as witty for the more popular digital version, but she’s trying). They all meet with him undercover, sporadically, supporting him in whatever way they can.

After an adventure involving Dr Strange (she’s proud of the fact that learnt his name properly now) and weirdest of all several other Spider-Men, he finally comes home and even though everything is still completely uprooted and unstable, at least she has him back now.

For everything that still comes afterward, for every run in with photographers and crazed fans and every time the danger they’re all in now that the world knows becomes apparent, she’s there to pick him back up. And MJ and Ned are too.

She notices that he comes back from patrols even later and when she talks to him about it he admits with a shy blush that he’s been stopping by MJ’s room every night for weeks now. It all seems very Romeo and Juliet. She also chuckles when it’s brought up in conversation with MJ’s mother, because of course she knows he’s there when they think they’re being so sneaky and secretive. How he managed to keep his identity hidden for so long, she’ll never know.

Over time, she gets to know MJ pretty well too: she learns that she’s smart and fierce and sarcastic and cynical in a way that balances Peter’s eternal sunshine perfectly. They really do fit together like pieces of an extremely adorable puzzle.

Her usually mended heart breaks a little when she realises how well she would’ve gotten along with Ben. But eventually she puts that thought away in a precious mental box, carefully kept and full of now bittersweet memories. She simply allows herself to share in her nephews’ new found and long overdue joy.

She truly realises the depth of their feelings for each other in unfortunate to say the least circumstances. A hammering from the Green Goblin puts him in hospital unconscious for a week even with his advanced healing abilities and MJ won’t leave his side for a second, holding onto the broken black dahlia necklace like it’s the only thing anchoring her to reality even after Ned has finally been persuaded to go home to bed. They sleep in plasticky, slightly sticky and hard hospital chairs right next to each other and when Peter finally wakes up the next afternoon he looks so happy to see the 3 people he loves most in the world carefully watching him.

She’s never seen him more scared than the first time a bad guy kidnaps MJ. They were aware that something like this was likely, the girl even prepared herself with self defence classes and her boyfriend is a literal freakin’ superhero. But still, when he finds her, May can see through the security footage that her and Ned are nervously watching, that he holds her with such relief, like she’s the most precious thing in the world.

They of course go to senior prom together and take the classic photos before they go — it’s incredibly corny but their radiant smiles put a bright grin on her face too.

They go long distance for college and although they’re both worried about growing apart, they seem to just get closer, moving into a cramped apartment in their second year.

She comes over for dinner (Peter has always been a disaster in the kitchen, but MJ’s competent enough to keep them from completely living off take out) and the three of them chat and laugh together and they’re not even out of college yet but MJ already feels like family.

What she doesn’t expect is for him to call her at 2am, in floods of tears, barely able to explain to her what happened except “I’ve fucked everything up, oh my god, I’ve fucked everything up...”

Eventually May gets a bigger picture through his tears (“it’s so stupid”, he hiccups down the phone). Essentially it all boils down to a lack of communication and small things boiling over into a blow out fight. Now she’s walking out in sheer anger and he’s frozen in panic. May feels panicked too, feeling the pressure of giving Peter the right advice when she’s honestly not sure how she would handle the situation. He might be all grown up, at college with a long term living together relationship, but sometimes she’s reminded of how young he still is.

She ends up telling him to run after MJ and apparently he does just that, rushing out into the pouring rain and kissing her through tearful apologies from both of them in what sounds like something straight out of a rom com. After that, they get better at sharing how they’re feeling and their relationship seems all the better for it.

She gives him her old engagement ring just after their two year anniversary of living together, after he comes to her apartment with an excited grin, telling her that he wants to propose. An everlasting symbol of her old love, of the love her and Ben shared, that their child can now share with the love of his life.

“So what’s your big plan?” she asks him excitedly over coffee in the mug he bought her a few birthdays back.

“Well, she hates public proposals, so I can’t do that – I was thinking of doing something at home, something cosy...”

That’s exactly what he does.

May helps him with his plan, just as she did 5 years ago – except this time she’s a little bit more directly involved.

Luckily, May and MJ already have a regular rom com night every few weeks, so MJ isn’t too surprised or suspicious when she invites her ‘round for an afternoon of Bridget Jones. Just as the perpetually single heroine is giving birth to Colin Firth’s baby, she gets a thumbs up text from Peter, letting her know that he’s ready to go.

MJ took the bus here, so May suggests they go back to the apartment together, because she couldn’t bear the idea of not being around for what awaits MJ at home. MJ gives her a strange look but just rolls with it.

When MJ opens the apartment door after saying goodbye to May, the lights are dimmed, except for a glowing structure in the corner, which Peter comes out of grinning.

“I made you a fort!” he declares happily with his arms in the air. As MJ grins and laughs and kisses him as she jumps into his arms, she takes that as a cue to fully leave them alone.

She stands and waits and wonders what’s happening inside. She could see that he’d filled the inside of the fort with fairy lights and she knows that he was planning on ordering MJ’s favourite food (pepperoni pizza) and putting on a murder documentary she’d been talking about for weeks.

After what must’ve been the time for them to eat their pizza and watch the documentary, plus about 7 minutes give or take, they open the door. They both have tears in their eyes as MJ holds up her left hand to show May the newly placed ring on her finger.

They have placeholder seats in the ceremony, for everyone who’s not there, who would’ve been there. Who should’ve been there. Everyone lost isn’t forgotten and it’s as heartwarming as it is sad.

He goes back to May’s the night before the wedding out of superstition and tradition. She wakes him up pretty early and he complains until he realises what day it is. He shares a soft phone call with MJ as soon as he’s awake enough to hold a conversation, but May has no idea what’s being said, as she goes to the kitchen, wanting to give them both privacy.

She makes sure to tell Peter how proud she is of him when she’s helping him tie his tie like he’s back in high school and getting ready for Homecoming.

When he sees MJ walk down the aisle, they both look at each other like they’re being given the entire world.

Peter speaks first, nervously taking cue cards out of his pocket and saying: “MJ, I know that you hate clichés and corny lines, so I’m not going to use any. Instead, I’m just going to make a bunch of promises. I promise to support you and stand by your side, to have your back in the way that you always have mine. I promise to always be there to make you smile when you’re sad. I promise to watch scary horror movies with you, even if they really scare me. I promise not to spoil endings of things. I promise to love you forever.”

An already tearful MJ follows him with: “Peter, a long time ago, I told you that I don’t have much luck when it comes to getting close to people. But that’s not been true for a long time, thanks to you. Sorry to use clichés my vows after you cut them out of yours, but I feel so damn lucky to be marrying my best friend. I promise to stand by you and fight for you even when you’re being really stupid, I promise to support all of your nerdy stuff and most of all, I promise to always love you, dork”

May thinks back on everything her boy has suffered through, everything that has been put upon him for so long. Seeing him brimming with joy, gazing lovingly at his wife, surrounded by everyone who loves and supports them both, she bursts into tears herself.

It’s one of the happiest days of her life .It’s only matched by her both of her wedding days and the days that Benjamin Anthony Parker-Jones and Taylor-May Parker-Jones are born.

#mj week 2021 #spideychelle #peter/mj #mcu fanfiction #MCU #marvel

52 notes · View notes

bisexualamy · 3 years

Note

hi. hello. i've only been following you for a short while, so apologies if there's already a post about it somewhere on your blog, but would you be willing to expand on duck newton a little bit? the thing is that i'm terribly stupid and i feel like i see your point but don't know. why exactly...

Hi! There’s not one comprehensive post about it but I’m more than happy to make this one it. And don’t beat yourself up!! I think some of this does come from “I am a trans man and his experience resonates with me” and personally, I think that being an argument for identifying someone as gay/trans/queer coded is valid. But that’s not, imo, the only reason why many folks (including myself) really see Duck as a trans man. So here are a few more. Spoilers for the ending of TAZ: Amnesty ahead.

Goes by a nickname & treats revealing his “actual”/proper/non-nickname name as a sign of intimacy - I think this is the most obvious one but the way that Justin plays it gives it a genuine quality that really fits with Duck being trans. I love the exchange between Duck and Aubrey where she asks for his name, he replies “Duck” and when she presses him he says “we’re not there yet” and she says “we’re not at names?!”

Names being an intimate symbol is not exclusive to trans folks, but for many of us, choosing our names is often a literal and symbolic first step towards redefining the lens through which the world sees us. This time, in a way we want to. Duck’s earnest insistence that no, he is Duck, and that’s enough, comes off as very trans. So much so, that I wasn’t sure initially how I felt about his name reveal to Minerva in the finale. But the more I sat with it, and after my Amnesty re-listen, I think it actually puts a really fine point on this.

Choosing a name for yourself is really vulnerable. From what we know about Duck’s past, it really sounds like Duck has gone by Duck since he was a kid. Juno has known Duck since they were both teens, at least, and she’s always called him Duck, even in flashbacks. Duck remarks in another flashback that his mom doesn’t like the name Duck, yet he still insists on using that name. To me, it’s very easy to take a trans reading of Duck here. Duck has had clear discomfort with his birth name since he was a kid, whether or not he realized it was for a trans reason. He starts going by a nickname very early on, and later chooses a more traditionally male name (Wayne) as his legal name when he transitions. But in a sense, he was Duck before he was anything else. Revealing the secret name he chose for himself to Minerva, in this reading, just makes that an even more intimate moment.

Part of an alternative subculture as a kid - this is somewhat anecdotally based, but we know Duck was a skater and kind of a punk as a teenager when he was going through his own period of self-discovery. Alternative subcultures are often refuges for lgbt and gnc folks as teens, because they can be safe spaces for alternate gender expression. For me, being part of the pop punk/emo subculture as a kid gave me a lot more freedom to experiment with gender neutral and masculine gender presentation. I see Duck’s past as a skater and a punk a good parallel for this. We also know that Duck had kind of a fraught adolescence, and this was an outlet for him. I think this reading is even stronger when you consider him as a trans character, trying on the identities of different subcultures in parallel to understanding his own gender identity. His character arc redefining his identity as the chosen one is a genuinely great parallel for the trans gender euphoria, self acceptance, and taking an active role in reshaping one’s identity - this is absolutely my favorite one. Duck’s literal journey as the chosen one works really well as a metaphorical trans narrative, and I honestly think it strengthens his character arc to read him as a trans character redefining what it means to be the chosen one. Duck is caught between who he is as part of the Kepler community and who he is as the chosen one in an interstellar war. And his character arc is finding what it means to be all of these things and also Duck. From a young age, Duck is told he’s the chosen one, and his whole life is redefined in front of him. He’s very resistant to accepting this fact. What will this mean for his family? What will this mean for him and his future? What if he doesn’t want this? Why him? Who picked him? What if I don’t want all this baggage? Can I please give this to someone else? His first scene with Minerva is very reminiscent of the first moment of “wait, am I trans? What does that mean? Who am I, actually? I don’t want this.” Many trans folks, myself included, sort of know they’re trans before they know they’re trans. In our transphobic society, it’s a lot easier to just not be trans. It sort of sits there in the back of your mind, and sometimes you can ignore it, sometimes you even forget about it, but it inevitably always comes back. Because to ignore you’re trans is to ignore the truth of your life. The same thing happens to Duck and his identity as the chosen one. Minerva literally reappears to him throughout his life to remind him that he can’t run from his destiny, as much as he tries to shut her out. Duck even goes through periods of accepting “hey, maybe this chosen one thing isn’t so bad” only for something to go a bit wrong and him to completely reject it again. Minerva gives Duck Beacon, and for a moment he’s like “hey, this is kind of cool” before his destiny scares him and he falls back into what the hell am I doing and eventually gives Beacon to Ned. He shuts away a symbol of the identity he’s running from, much like a trans person might hide objects or experiences that give them gender euphoria, because to accept them is to start to accept the truth of who you are. I also like this reading because it makes Leo Tarkesian a great parallel for older trans mentors. Leo lived the life of the chosen before Duck. He’s gone through this all before and now his role is to keep Duck safe and make sure he safely comes into his own identity as the chosen one. The found family? The generational mentorship? The fact that Leo and Duck talk about the emotional weight of being chosen in a way Duck can’t really express with others? Even Minerva? Very trans. When Duck stops running from who he is he realizes he might actually like being the chosen one. When he loses his abilities, he realizes he misses them. But the solution isn’t to just become what Minerva tells him. The solution isn’t to just abandon all of his principles and values, abandon everything that makes Duck Duck and transform into the model of a chosen one. Duck won’t kill anybody. Duck chooses to make decisions with arguably worse outcomes for himself to avoid killing anybody (like saving Billy the Goatman). Duck gets to define what it means to be Duck The Chosen. He won’t settle for anything less. This, to me, is a really awesome parallel for not just accepting one’s gender but accepting oneself and your experiences of gender, and making it your own until it feels euphoric. Two other quick things that are more my opinion than textual analysis:

Duck’s brand of a softer masculinity made me feel euphoric as a trans man and it’s a kind of masculinity I see a lot of trans men aspire to have. Yes, not all trans men are masculine in this way. However, I think the gentle streak in his masculinity codes him as this type of trans man. This great thread goes into more depth on that.

Duck is characterized quite strongly as a staple of the Kepler community. He knows everybody and they all know him and they all call him Duck. It’s just, “that’s our Duck.” That’s a wonderful thing for me as a trans person, to see a community come together around accepting a trans person they’ve known all his life, and certainly known since before his transition. That just makes me happy. 

This was long but I hope it helped better understand why Duck is so important to me as a trans character! Thank you for the ask. I had a lot of fun writing this up.

#taz #taz amnesty #taz meta #taz amnesty meta #duck newton #hailing frequencies open #okay to reblog #long post ///#my meta #Anonymous

44 notes · View notes

janeykath318 · 3 years

Text

The Beard Effect (Shieldshock)

Getting invited to the super secret Avengers lair was a pretty big deal to a former “science minion.” The Accords had split the Avengers in half and those who had joined Steve Rogers in refusing to sign it were basically fugitives. It angered Darcy that the people who’d saved earth multiple times were being treated like criminals, just so the government had convenient scapegoats.

Jane and Darcy were both vocal opponents of the Accords because of the gross human rights violations and as a result, a lot of opportunities suddenly disappeared.

Jane went about muttering how she planned to portal Ross’s ass into outer space and Darcy was fully on board with that plan.

Unfortunately, before any portalling could happen, they ended up getting kidnapped again. This wasn’t their first rodeo and they managed to overcome the thugs and hijack their van, but it broke down in the middle of nowhere and the two of them were left stranded, with no way to call for help.

“What’ll we do now?” Jane asked

“Start walking,” Darcy suggested. “There’s bound to be some kind of civilization around here.”

Jane looked skeptical, but she shrugged and started walking. After an hour or so, they found a small lane that wound up and disappeared into the forest.

“That looks promising,” Jane said hopefully. “A Driveway!”

“Or the lane to a lair of villains or serial killers,” Darcy said, earning herself a glare.

“It’s starting to get dark, Darce. I think we have to take our chances. I don’t see any other signs of habitation.”

“True, but don’t come crying to me when an axe murderer is chasing you.” Darcy griped, but she started following the path, which turned out to be much longer than it looked.

“Don’t move!” A voice suddenly hissed from the shadows, stopping both women in their tracks.

“See? I told you!” Darcy crowed triumphantly.

A figure emerged from the shadows, brandishing a gun, which he quickly holstered after he saw who they were.

“Darcy?”

“Clint?” Darcy exclaimed, recognizing her favorite archer and partner in crime.

“How in the world did you get here?” Clint asked warily. “No one knows about this place.”

“Honestly, it was a complete accident,” Darcy told him. “We got kidnapped and escaped, but got stranded in the middle of nowhere and started walking, hoping to find other non-shady humans. This driveway looked promising, so here we are.”

Clint looked very concerned and quizzed them on their captors and where they’d left the van before speaking into his comm.

“I’ve explained the situation to Cap. He says to bring you up.”

“Steve’s here?” Darcy asked, heart doing a flutter of anticipation.

“Yep,” Clint grinned knowingly. He was well aware of the crush Darcy had on said Captain and used to tease her about it frequently.

“Shall I tell him you send your love?”

“No!” Darcy nearly shouted, face turning pink. “Just get us safely inside.”

“Whatever you say,” Clint said with a smirk, chuckling to himself as he led them to the plain looking ranch house at the end of the lane. There was another brief discussion over the comms and then they were being ushered inside.

It was the typical plainly furnished basic safe house, but it was cluttered in a well-lived in way. Darcy recognized Wanda, Scott and Sam right away and greeted them all enthusiastically. Then Steve Rogers walked in and put a halt to all coherent thoughts.

The man was gorgeous to begin with, but he’d let his hair get rather shaggy and—glory of glories—he’d grown a beard. He looked a bit world weary and tired, but he smiled right at her.

“Hi, Darcy, Jane.”

“Hi.” Darcy squeaked out, now doubly overcome from the smile AND the beard. She’d always had a weakness for bearded men, but Steve’s glorious specimen took that to a whole new level.

Jane took pity on her and took charge of the conversation, explaining what had happened to them and asking if they could be so kind as to tell them where they were and provide them a lift back to civilization.

“Sure we can,” Steve agreed, “but we should probably wait until morning. Natasha and Sharon are out scoping things out and we’ll soon find out more about your kidnappers. Were either of you hurt at all?”

“Only a few bruises and rope marks. Darcy and I kicked ass. They won’t mistake us for helpless scientists ever again.”

Jane spoke proudly and Darcy nodded enthusiastically. She’d wished Natasha could have seen it.

Steve outright beamed at this, which caused Darcy to trip and go down in an embarrassed heap. She stayed on the floor, wishing a portal would appear and whisk her away.

“Why are you like this?” Jane sighed in exasperation as she and Steve helped Darcy up.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, concern in his voice.

Mortified, Darcy couldn’t look at him and mumbled “Yeah. Just tired. Being kidnapped wears one out.”

She wanted to die. Why did she always have to make herself look like an idiot in front of him?

Steve, being the gentleman he was, volunteered to sleep in the living room so Jane and Darcy could have a bed. Darcy tried not to think about what sleepy Steve would look like as she counted sheep that night.

She awoke the next morning and wandered out to the kitchen to find Natasha making coffee.

“Sleep well?” The spy greeted her, green eyes appraising her.

“Yes,” Darcy managed. “Though if you have extra coffee, I could definitely use some.”

They caught up over their caffeinated beverages and Darcy heard more of the story of how Natasha had ended up changing her mind about the Accords and joining Team Cap.

Right in the middle of a very funny anecdote involving Clint, Sam, and Scott, the door opened and Steve entered the house, sweaty and disheveled after a morning run.

Darcy’s laughter died in her throat as she observed Steve’s damp white shirt and glistening skin, muscles very much on display.

“Morning, Nat. Darcy,” he acknowledged, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and gulping it down.

Darcy let out a “morning!” and got the heck out of there, face burning again. She needed a cold shower and fast. She heard Natasha laughing at her, but decided she’d deal with that later. Steve was going to be the death of her.

“Nat, do you know why Darcy hates me? She practically runs away whenever I enter a room and I don’t know what I did.”

A bewildered Steve was asking his friend this question two months later when they were settled in a new, larger, secret compound, joined by Darcy and Jane. He’d liked Darcy a lot and used to enjoy her company, but now, she could barely stand to look at him and he was rather confused and a little hurt.

“I can’t speak for Darcy, but I don’t think it’s anything you did,” Nat assured him. “Have you tried talking to her?”

“Yes, but she always is too busy or finds a reason to escape before I can get more than one sentence out. I figured she really doesn’t want to be around me, so I let it go.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair in frustration, wondering how in the world he was going to fix this. He missed Darcy and this situation was becoming very upsetting to him.

“I’ll see if I can find out what’s what,” Natasha promised. “It is very unlike Darcy to leave someone in the dark if they’ve offended her.”

That very afternoon, Darcy found herself locked in a closet with none other than Steve. All the banging and yelling and swearing and angry texting at Jane and Natasha availed nothing.

Natasha’s blunt text took the wind out of Darcy’s sails and she looked over at Steve remorsefully. They were right. She’d let her stupid crush get in the way of her friendship.

“I could break this door down, you know,” Steve offered.

“No need,” Darcy sighed, smiling weakly. “It’s about time I put my big girl pants on and told you what’s going on. It’s not your fault. I just am a complete disaster around guys I have a crush on and I may have a thing for the beard,” she finished, blushing like a tomato. “Which is why I could hardly say a word to you without squeaking.”

“So I didn’t hurt you?” Steve asked cautiously.

“No. It was mostly me trying to control my wild urges to say or do totally inappropriate things to you. Face it, Steve. You’re irresistible.”

Steve gave a bashful grin.

“I don’t know about that. But what if I told you I would be totally okay with you being “inappropriate?” Because I too must confess to having had some inappropriate thoughts.”

“Really? About me?” Darcy asked, starting to feel very smug.

“Definitely you,” Steve said, looking at her very intently. She blushed again and moved over close to him so she was right up in his space.

“So Watcha gonna do about it, soldier?” She asked flirtatiously.

Steve grinned.

“Let’s start here,” he murmured right before he kissed her.

It was better than her wildest dreams. Holy crap, the man could kiss! Knees already weak, she clutched him for dear life as the kiss deepened.

“If I’d have known this would be the result, I’d have grown a beard a long time ago,” Steve admitted when they came up for air. “I’m crazy about you, Darcy. Have been for awhile.”

Darcy giggled against his chest.

“You’re still plenty hot without it, but it kinda was the icing on the cake,” she told him.

Neither of them noticed when Natasha unlocked the doors. She listened for a moment, then smiled triumphantly and texted Jane that the mission was a success. Nothing was seen of either Steve or Darcy for the rest of that day.

#shieldshock #steve rogers #darcy lewis #bearded steve is my jam #and darcy's

24 notes · View notes

starkovsnesta · 3 years

Text

It's like the fire (replaced all the love)

Summary: "When they crumble, they're not facing each other. Both of them have their gaze set ahead. The hands they have placed on the couch are mere centimeters away, not touching. There's silence in the room. None of them talks for a long time. Even in these circumstances, stubbornness and pride triumphs over their hearts. And maybe the way they break apart should be an indication on how they weren't really meant to be together, Nesta thinks."

Relationship: Nesta Archeron/Cassian

Tags: Angst, Break Up, Healing

Chapter 1 - such a burden, this flame on my chest

read on ao3

When they crumble, they're not facing each other. Both of them have their gaze set ahead. The hands they have placed on the couch are mere centimeters away, not touching. There's silence in the room. None of them talks for a long time. Even in these circumstances, stubbornness and pride triumphs over their hearts. And maybe the way they break apart should be an indication on how they weren't really meant to be together, Nesta thinks.

She hears Cassian mumbling a curse and she feels his head turning towards her.

"You promised you'd stop drinking" he whispers.

And because Nesta always let's her rage talk in her place, she replies "and you promised you wouldn't hurt me".

It isn't really his fault she is hurt, she knows. He has done nothing wrong.

It all happened hours before. They were at some party. His friends were there, her sisters were there. Everybody seemed to be having a good time. But not Nesta. She had woken up without energy that morning. It was nothing new, but it pissed her off. She had gone to work, not talking to anyone. Cassian had sent some messages, he had even called. But she had ignored him. She wasn't mad at him, she just didn't want to talk to him. He would notice something was off, he would get worried and ask if something happened, not believing her when she said she felt that way with no reason. And how could she explain? So she let her phone ring. When she came home, he was there. His face was pale, and he was pacing on her porch. They had a fight. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that Cassian screamed at her, trying to calm down even as she kept ignoring him. They had just be quiet for a moment, and then decided to let it drop to go to a stupid party where Cassian's friends were waiting.

When they arrived at the club, Nesta just sat down on a table, not interested in having any kind of human interaction. She had come just for him, because she felt guilty about ignoring him and making him worry for the hundredth time. But he didn't sit next to her.

She had seen him dancing and talking to Morrigan, she had seen him laughing with her. The woman's hand placed on his knee like it belonged there. And maybe because she's always been jealous of the bright woman, maybe because she's always felt unworthy of Cassian's love, or maybe because she knows his friends would prefer seeing him with Mor, and they've never been very subtle about it, maybe because of all these reasons, she'd felt hurt. And she started drinking. She knows now it wasn't a smart thing to do, if not for the fact that she received judgemental glances from those around her, people who feel morally superior to her. Her sisters among them.

Cassian now let's out an exasperated sigh.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you that there's nothing but friendship between me and Mor" he says. He tries to reach for her hand, but she pulls away.

She knows she's hurting him.

But she can't stop. She shifts her glacial eyes on him. "I don't believe you".

The way his eyes close for a brief second, as if to gather some control, make her rage burn.

When he opens them again, though, there's nothing but resignation. The same feeling that transpires when he murmurs "I love you, Nesta". Softly, as a caress. But it's received as a slap. It's not the first time he's said it. It's the first time she really doesn't know what to do with it. He loves her. But she's still hurt. She's still full of anger, she still has nightmares at night. She still thinks of alcohol and tries to drink herself to death almost every week, consciously or not. She still doesn't know how to love him back, because there isn't much place for love inside of her. There's only fire. She shouldn't have promised to stop drinking, because she knew she couldn't. She only did to make him quiet. She doesn't like when Cassian coddles her. Sometimes his way of caring for her makes her feel more of a broken doll than she already does.

She comes to a realization, then and there: his love is not the thing she wants the most right now.

That's why, after not managing to keep a tear from falling on her cheek, she replies "That's not enough".

And that's how they fall apart.

--------

They don't really see each other for months. Cassian tells himself that it is a good thing. He needs to move on. But he can't lie to himself too much.

Not when he drinks almost every night to avoid thinking about her. It's ironic, he reflects, how he reaches for the same destruction that he didn't want her to reach for. Alcohol is the only solution he knows to his problems. He doesn't talk to his friends about Nesta, and they don't ask questions. He's not sure if they're trying to give him space and time, or if they don't really care about the break up. They have always disliked Nesta, anyway. When they first started dating, his group of friends kept joking about it, like it was some sort of prank he was pulling on them.

When he said he loved her, Rhysand just burst out laughing, shaking his head in delight. Cassian had decided not to be mad about it. They were his family. He knew they loved him, they were just a little bit overprotective. And Feyre, Rhysand's girlfriend, has never had a good relationship with her eldest sister. Maybe she told him not very pleasant anecdotes about her. Rhysand doesn't like anyone that has ever hurt Feyre. He's protective of her.

Cassian had justified his behavior over and over.

They hadn't said anything when he had come to a party hand in hand with Nesta for the first time. She was worried his friends wouldn't like her. She had told him so before coming out of the bathroom, her eyes read and her cheeks wet. "You shouldn't let them see you with me, Cass". But he had hugged her and comforted her, sure that this was just a silly worry and that his friends would support him no matter what. That night, everybody had ignored Nesta. He hadn't missed the glance Mor had sent him, though. As if he had betrayed her. Nesta was too smart to miss it too.

And now, as things have fallen apart, he is asking himself over and over again: why the hell did he keep trying to unite the two parts? He wanted his friends and family to have second thoughts on Nesta. He wanted them to see her as he did. This spectacular, fierce, fucking complicated woman that had stolen his heart completely.

Rhys and Azriel always accompany him to clubs now. Standing by his side, trying to joke. He doesn't always listen. Although he pretends he does. He even fakes smiles sometimes. It's only when they suggest he should start seeing another woman that he decides to stop drinking with them. And with time, he even sees them less. It's only when they present themselves at his apartment, asking for an explanation, that he realizes how angry he is at them.

For never supporting him, for always criticizing Nesta, for being happy they are apart, for never helping her. And he is mad at himself too. Especially for the last part.

That's why he explodes in front of them, letting his mouth scream out all the pain he feels inside, while his mind stays unbearably quiet except for a single sentence that keeps being repeated as a chant:

Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

---------

November 23

I don't know how to start this. Honestly, I don't even know why I'm writing to you at all. With how we left things, I guess you wouldn't want to ever hear from me again. And yet, here I am.

Maybe I'll never send this letter. Or maybe I will and pretend I didn't. That's funny, isn't it? I always face problems in that way. I do things and then ignore them until I forget, or better, until others forget about them. I hope against all hope, cause I know you won't forget the shit I did to you. I know you regret putting up with me. I know you regret knowing me. And loving me. How could you love me? I always ask myself that question, and I guess now I'm asking you too.

How could you fall in love for a wrecked thing like me?

Do you remember when we met the first time? I was drunk. Of course. I must have said something rude, I don't remember the details, but I recall how you picked a fight. Because you love to do that. And I remember thinking about you the next day. Like, not in a positive way actually. But I thought about you. Because I couldn't ignore you.

This is my way of saying that, from the beginning, you made place inside me (yes, I'm serving you a dirty joke on a silver plate, I know).

You're gone now. I mean, not like gone gone. I mean gone from my life, because you're not with me. And I guess, despite everything, I admit I miss it. I miss you. A lot. I'm not good with feelings, but I thought I was getting better while you were next to me. You make me feel safe. And that is what scares me the most, you know? I've never known a safety that would last. All the safe places in my life crumbled like castles of glass, and I guess they made so much noise inside of me that everytime I get near something similar again my first reaction is to cover my ears, not to listen. I run away from good things. You used to tell me that when we fought, do you remember? I think you do. You're right. I do. Because if I don't, the good things will capture me into their grip and I will be so caught up in the trap that I won't notice how it's suffocating me. I do want to be happy. It seems like I don't, but I really do. I just don't know how to be happy without being scared. And you terrify me. You really do. Because, and I think it's safe for me to say it now, you made me taste real happiness for the first time.

It's a pity I will never deserve you.

But you will be happy, you will find somebody else, I promise. I just hope you won't be too happy. It sounds selfish. I just mean I wish you won't be too happy to think about me, even if you hate me. I would prefer you'd keep hating me instead of not thinking of me at all. Don't forget me. Because I promise, I will never forget you.

Yours (in more ways than you know),

Nesta.

-----

November 30

Nesta,

I don't think I could ever forget you. You are like a drug I can't stop myself from taking, even though it hurts me. You hurt me. I won't pretend you didn't. I won't tell you sweet shit and give you my forgiveness or whatever. At least not yet. But I know I fucked up too. Maybe we are just wrong for each other.

Shit, the mere thought makes me cry. That's also because I'm a little drunk. I miss you like hell. I even miss our fights, although they were so fucked up. We are so fucked up. But I really hoped we could work out either way. I hoped we would overcome these obstacles with our love and other romantic shit like that. I know it's ridiculous now. I won't forget you, Nes. I wish I could. I wish I could say that I'll get over you soon, that I'll be better, that I won't think about you anymore. I can't. I won't. I don't really want to. It's pathetic but this pain I feel is the only connection I have to you now, and I don't want to lose that.

I love you. In my own fucked up way. And I know you loved me too. You're not good at saying it, or showing it. But I know you did. Or maybe I'm just kidding myself.

Anyways, I hope you'll find a way to happiness one day. I'll be there when you do.

Yours (but you already know it),

Cassian.

#cassian #nessian #acotar #nesta and cassian #nesta archeron #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nessian angst #angst #multichapter #it's like the fire replaced all the love chapter 1 #it's like the fire (replaced all the love)

51 notes · View notes

curly-bangtan · 4 years

Text

Heatwave Drabble #5: for the birthday boy (M)

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles]

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: For Taehyung’s birthday, you’ve planned a special surprise-filled evening just for him as his best friend by day, fuck buddy by night. But especially after a few drinks, he finds it difficult keeping his hands off you, which isn’t a good thing in front of all your friends.

Genre: drabble, smut, fwb au, roommate au, f2l

Warnings: teacher/student roleplay (if you’re not into that, just skip to the next scene, it’s meant to be slightly sarcastic anyway), brief lap dance, oral (m&f), overstimulation (m&f), unprotected sex (your girl finally invested in the pill yay), cum dumpster, facial, cum play and consumption, squirting, basically filth, light BDSM like spanking, handcuffs, choking, the usual, daddy kink (you know HW!Tae)

Word count: 11.3k yikes

A/N: Happy early birthday to the best boy! Why do I call these drabbles when it’s basically a series at this point smh -_- Enjoy this filthy monster~

“Surprise! Happy Birthday!”

Taehyung jumps beside you as you switch on the lights to your flat, illuminating the room full of people leap out from their hiding place at his arrival. The last syllable of their celebratory chant hangs in the air for an awkward moment as he takes in everything you put together for his birthday surprise.

Shiny party streamers decorating the walls, black and gold balloons bobbing against the ceiling, printed photos of your best memories together hanging from shelf to shelf, all his and your closest friends gathered to greet him. And of course, the impeccable two-layered strawberry chocolate sponge cake sitting on a platter that you know would excite him the most.

A smile spreads his mouth wide and square as he turns to you, his cheeks bundling up like rising bread in sheer elation.

“No you didn’t, Y/N.”

Then you’re being suffocated in a bone-crushing hug, your ribs almost cracking under his snake-like squeeze. His chest rumbles in the most boyish giggle.

“Hap-pee-burf-day-” You manage to utter as you move your arms between two to create some space for you to breathe.

Seeing Taehyung this happy, especially knowing you’re the cause of it, is truly a feeling matched by no other. You don’t have a massive squadron of friends, you are more the type to carefully select those you actually like and get along with. To put it badly, you’re picky, judgy and quite a bitch when it comes to making friends. But the few you actually care about, you love ferociously and passionately, willing to cut off your own limb for them. And Taehyung is at the top of that list.

“You’re actually the best, I love you.” When he finally lets you go from his painful but appreciated embrace, his hands rest on your waist, lingering.

You had just treated him to a birthday dinner at his favourite steakhouse, roommate to roommate, in order to enable this surprise party. A few pints might have been downed for the occasion, which explains his excessive touching. Taehyung has never been able to hold his liquor, always a lightweight. The number of times you’ve had to half-carry half-drag him out of a club and stick your fingers down his throat in a dark alley is truly embarrassing for him.

“I am the best. You’re lucky I love you too, dork.” With his nostrils flaring from excitement, you can’t help but pinch his nose before turning to the guests and properly starting the party.

To be honest, you wouldn’t have been able to pull it off without the help of anyone else. His parents have come to town to visit him during the day, so off he went to show them around the food market, the park and his favourite vintage stores. Which gave you plenty of time to set up the house, prepare the refreshments, and buy the birthday cake. But keeping him from returning home was a feat that you had to enlist his parents’ aid in, and ever the obedient son, Taehyung of course did not argue when his folks disagreed with his suggestion to go back to the apartment. Then, it was a matter of taking him to dinner, deftly urging him to meet you there rather than going together from the flat so not to miss your reservation. The rounds of alcohol and your tiny bladder slyly masked the many bathroom runs you took in order to text Lotta to gather everyone to your place. And when everything was set, you headed back with the clueless Taehyung, giddy with a belly full of Michelin star food.

It was purely out of your headstrong resistance that you two didn’t stumble into the apartment making out, exposing your on-going debauchery to all your unaware friends. He had begun to feel you up on the way home, grabbing your ass one too many times for it to be merely playful. Honestly, it’s never easy rejecting his advances, not with your nymphomaniac track record anyway. But tonight was especially difficult, knowing what you have planned for him after the party…

From the corner of your eye you see Taehyung chattering away with friends from his class, and from the way he’s waving his hands around, you can tell it’s about the latest Christmas horror story of the two of you trying to stuff a turkey.

The memory of you yelling at each other to grab-this-grab-that warms your chest more than the white wine you’re sipping on. It’s always these stupid anecdotes that mean the most.

“Looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

Lotta’s voice startles you from your thoughts. Hands held behind her shyly, she smiles at the sight of the outburst of laughter from the guests at his story.

Aside from Taehyung, you would say she’s your best friend, having gone to the same highschool together and now the same university. You knew you would be close the moment she told you her star sign - there isn’t a more iconic duo than an Aries and a Leo. She puts up with a lot of your shit but also isn’t afraid to scream some sense into you whenever you pull something rogue, which you guess is very often.

“Yep. He should probably stop drinking though.” You say as you watch him tip the contents of his glass down his throat. “I swear to god if he throws up on the couch, I’ll chop his dick off.” Of course you wouldn’t, how could you ever bring yourself to hurt that godsent meatstick that fuck tears out of you? You both giggle nonetheless.

“You’re funny with him.” Lotta is wearing a smug expression that you distinctly dislike.

“What do you mean?”

“You act like he’s some annoying brother who you hate, but then you go and take him to this boujee-ass steakhouse, throw him a surprise party and splash out on his birthday gift. You beat him up when he uses your shampoo, kick him when he accidentally scrunches up your notes, and threaten to emasculate him if he spills alcohol on your favourite couch that you treat like your newborn child. But you secretly care so much about him that I know you’d give him your kidney if he needed one.”

You blink at her.

Not quite sure what to say.

“Well, yeah, of course I care about him. Like you said, he’s a brother to me.” Okay, but do you let someone who’s just a brother to you cum on your face? “You don’t live with him so you don’t know what a useless brat he is. He burns pasta, Lotta. Pasta. Seriously, he’s such a dipshit, but of course I care about him. What’s funny about that?” Lying straight through your teeth is a Y/N specialty. As long as you say it with enough confidence, you can sell any bullshit.

But maybe you’re sounding a little defensive.

Lotta is clever, it is why you’re friends. Where this observation of hers is headed, you’re unsure of. She could turn this into a lecture about your abrasive personality, or suspect that something else is going on between you and Taehyung other than sharing rent.

“Nothing, I just said it was funny. The way you are.” Her smile tells you that it’s probably the former of the two possibilities.

“What can I say, I’m a funny person.” Not entirely buying it though, you shrug and play along.

Another bout of laughter breaks out from Taehyung and his friends, catching both your attentions. He thrives in social situations like these, good at entertaining people with his odd humour. You watch the flash of his teeth, the crinkle of his amused eyes, tongue flicking out to wet his lips every other sentence.

“You know, he actually is really hot.” Now, that you didn’t expect at all. Your head whips to face your best friend, whose eyes fixes back on yours but not before you catch her checking him out.

“Um, what?”

“I’m just saying. You can’t deny that he’s gorgeous, charming too.” Brows raised, Lotta lifts both hands up in defense when she see the arrows your glare is shooting at her. “Definitely the best looking guy I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re drunk. Since when did you admit that Taehyung is ‘hot’?” In complete ridicule, you scoff at her. Though, her point is completely 100% valid and true.

“Do you see me with a drink? I’m sober tonight, got an early shift tomorrow.”

“Why are you suddenly saying this? Weren’t you the one who wouldn’t shut up when I went to Mykonos with him because you thought I was too blinded by his looks to even know if he’s a serial killer?” Never has Lotta expressed the slightest, most remote of interest in Taehyung, not once properly acknowledging his attractiveness.

“I’m just saying. It’s a shame that you can’t see him that way anymore after spending so much time together.” It’s her turn to shrug, again with the annoying cocky expression.

Yes, after spending so much time sleeping together, more like.

“Yeah, no. That’s gross. You won’t get it because you don’t have a guy best friend. But trust me, no way would I ever go there with him.” Go ahead and call you a pathological liar, you don’t care. You’d never hear the end of it if Lotta finds out you and your ‘guy best friend’ have been knocking boots for over half a year.

You catch Taehyung glancing over to you, eyes twinkling with amusement, signalling for you to come over and join his crowd. Telepathy is one of your secret talents nowadays, you just know each other so well that spoken words are not a necessity for communication.

Taehyung watches you manoeuvre past those chattering bodies from across the room, making your way towards him with Lotta trailing behind. He knows he is definitely drunk, so it might just be the alcohol getting to his head but something looks a little different about you tonight. By that, he doesn’t mean your curled hair, or that new red dress you’re wearing that introduces your cleavage to the entire world. You’re kind of… glowing. There is a permanent smile on your face, even while resting the corners of your lips are turned up. And when you’re in a good mood, you are so transparent about it that you basically radiate like a disco ball in the room.

His chest feels warm. Maybe it’s the wine.

“Fuck, she’s so fit.”

For a second, Taehyung is worried that he thought out loud, but then realised that the voice belonged to Seojoon. He turns to his friend to find him ogling at your figure.

He doesn’t know what to say. It’s weird if he agrees. But he also doesn’t trust his inebriated state to execute a flat out lie that convincingly.

“You don’t know how lucky you are to have Y/N as your roommate, man. If it were me, I would’ve tapped that on the first night.” Seojoon continues, taking a swig of his beer.

“As if you could.” Taehyung snorts, unable to help himself. “She’s out of your league, ass.”

“Fair point. I heard she is a freak in bed, too. Do you ever hear, like, sex noises?” A freak indeed.

“Sometimes…” It’s true, even now. Occasionally he will stumble home with a girl he picked up at the bar only to hear the bed creaking furiously or breathy moans sounding from your room. Walls are thin. Sometimes it turned him on, other times it pissed him off.

“Bet you wank to it, eh? Taehyungie?” Seojoon ruffles his hair just as you and Lotta come within earshot. Liquor-brazen, he is suddenly overcome with an urge to announce to the whole room: Y/N and I are fucking. Yeah, that’s right. She’s my fuck buddy, so you can stop trying to hit on her right now because I’m gonna be the one she’s riding tonight. Seojoon, fucking suck on that. I don’t need to wank to her sex noises when I’m the one coaxing them from her.

However, a small sober part of his conscience tells him that he really shouldn’t do that; if he does, he probably won’t get any riding tonight. So he clamps his mouth shut.

You arrive amidst them in that sinful dress that reduces Taehyung to a teenage boy, and you take your turn giving them brief hugs as formalities, your best friend beside you mirroring your action. When you reach Taehyung, he pulls you in roughly by the waist, wine sloshing in his hand. From his careless force and lazy grin, you can tell he is almost completely gone. Taehyung is a wine-killer, but wine is also a Taehyung-killer.

Highly conscious of the presence of all your mates while he clearly isn’t, you pretend to roll your eyes and pry his hand off the small of your back. It doesn’t budge. So, awkwardly, with your midriff locked in Taehyung’s arm, you lean over to hug his last friend Woosik who gives you a shy pat on your shoulder.

The conversation resumes, morphing into Lotta telling everyone the most embarrassing stories of you during high school - back when you had braces and had the biggest crush on the captain of the football team. You don’t even try to deny it, laughing along at your pathetic 14 year old self. Though, you’re only half paying attention, the other half is keenly aware of the way Taehyung’s thumb is rubbing gentle circles on your pelvic bone. When you peek up at him, you find him already staring at you with eyes you know too well.

The ‘I’m gonna eat you out until you squirt’ eyes.

Fuck.

Then you notice Lotta’s sharp eyes on Taehyung’s hand gripping your waist. The ‘hold up, what could be happening over here?’ eyes.

Double fuck.

Tipping your toes, you whisper into your roommate’s clueless ear. “Let go, people are watching.” You almost allow your lips to graze his skin because you know how much it turns him on, but you remember to behave. But this close, his warm familiar scent tingles your nose in a way that makes you want to hug him.

Taehyung pulls away to look at your face, clearly displeased, then regards everyone in the circle. When he notices Lotta’s focus on the two of you, he slowly withdraws his paw, but not without purposely brushing past your ass.

“Strawberry-flavoured lube?”

Taehyung audibly gasps in disbelief as he tears open his poorly wrapped present.

“Yeah, you like strawberries right?” Seojoon chuckles and claps his back so violently that he falls forwards. On the other side of him, you haul him back up onto the sofa.

Everyone is gathered around the pile of birthday gifts on the coffee table, but not before witnessing you scold Woosik for not leaving his drink on the kitchen island from which the couch is a safe distance to prevent any spillage. Lotta just laughed at your fixation.

So far, the array of presents Taehyung has received ranges from Amazon vouchers, to expensive whiskey, to a funky tie. Yours sit furthest away from him, which he practically leapt in excitement when he saw the size of, only to be forced to open it last because you insist it’s going to be the best one.

“You’re insufferable, Seojoon.” Taehyung rolls his eyes yet fails to suppress his grin. Oh, you’re definitely trying out the lube at some point.

After ripping into a couple more, he finally arrives at your present for him. It spans an entire arm’s length; you know every guest must be wondering to themselves what it could possibly be. Taehyung drops onto his knees before it and carefully peels away the tape this time, knowing it probably took you awhile to wrap it up this neatly. You watch his long cautious fingers reveal the gift you had spent weeks raking your head for.

“Stop…” His eyes light up at the polished cedar easel that he caresses over as gentle as he would your skin. But as he continues to unwrap the present, a box of oil paints, a wooden palette and a set of 16 expensive natural fibre brushes are unveiled. “Oh my god, there’s more?”

Ceasing in action, he looks up at you, jaw so slack you bet you can throw a pea into his mouth even with your bad aim. The surprise on his face, almost a replica of his expression when everyone jumped out at him and yelled ‘Happy Birthday’ an hour ago. Except this time there is something more tender about how his wide pupils bore into yours. It makes you squirm.

Then without warning, he dives onto you, crushing you in the most fatal of embraces; you swear something in your spine cracked as you fall back onto the cushions, suffocated. People let out a sound of amusement at your struggle, but with his warm breath fanning your neck, you don’t even hear them.

After allowing this sweet painful moment for a few seconds more, you shove Taehyung’s heavy body off you, harder than you need so he slumps onto Seojoon.

“You’re actually the best, I love you.” He squeals like a boy on Christmas day before examining the paintbrushes with the utmost careful touch, as if afraid he would bend the bristles the wrong way.

What is he so cute for?

You kind of really want to pat his head and kiss his cheek right now. But there’s an audience obstructing.

Looking up, you lock eyes with Lotta. She is smiling, endeared by the purity of his reaction as well. See, not even she is immune his stupid cuteness. How are you supposed to?

Taehyung’s heart is constricting as he strokes the fine wooden edge of the giant disassembled easel. Of course, you know him better than any of his other friends. He has recently expressed an interest in painting, though his love for art and sophistication has been harbouring for a while now. He has only ever made subtle comments about wanting to properly get into it but not having the proper equipment to and not knowing the best brand to purchase. Yet you had picked up on it nevertheless. Everything combined must have costed you a significant portion of your allowance. Even he would not have splashed out this much on himself.

He turns back to you again from where he kneels in front of the coffee table. You are observing him with a thing he wishes to be adoration, a glimmer in your smile that wears more beautiful than any dress on you. For a second, there’s a flutter in his stomach and it confuses him because it feels an awful lot like butterflies.

But then you kick his back with the heel of your foot to get him to stand and Taehyung remembers that you are best friends. He’s not supposed to be thinking like that.

After cutting the cake, with food being a major satisfaction factor of any party, everyone sort of just hovers, huddled in their little groups with their plate of dessert in one hand, while they resume their conversation. The music is turned up loud so they all have to half-yell; some don’t even bother talking as they dig in, you included.

Being a quiet eater that you are, you stand by the island counter, sipping your wine in between bites of that chocolate decadence. Taehyung approaches you with his already empty plate; you haven’t even made it through half your slice yet. Judging by the lethargy in his step and that icing-slathered grin he has worn the entire night, you can tell he was the one who finished the second bottle of wine you opened.

“Hey.” Your fingers do a weird little wave that is so completely uncharacteristic, but tipsy-Y/N is sort of that friendly and laid back.

“Hey, pretty.” His hand trails around the corner of the counter surface and traps you between it and his body as he comes up behind you. Immediately you stiffen, looking around to see if anyone, especially Lotta, is looking. But when you find everyone preoccupied either with each other or the cake, your shoulders relax.

“What’s up? You having a good time?” Twisting to face him, you edge back until the counter digs into your back. Taehyung’s face is a dangerous proximity to yours.

The anticipation for the night you have planned for him in your bedroom thrums in your core. Patience has never been one of your strengths, and right now it is testing your very limit. You could kick everyone out right now if you really wanted to. But you won’t. You’ll wait.

You wipe the chocolate off the corner of his mouth with a swipe, the gesture you can’t tell if motherly or romantic. And just because Taehyung is peering down at you so longingly, you flick your tongue out and suck the sweetness on your thumb.

His breath hitches.

“Uh- I…” For a second, all thought is scattered in his brain, and you almost laugh aloud at how susceptible he is to your attacks. “Yeah, of course. I’m having the best time.”

“Am I the best roommate ever or what?” You watch his eyes trained on your mouth. From his alcohol scent, you don’t trust him to have enough restraint not to kiss you right now so you turn your back to him and rest your elbows upon the island top, leaning over to finish your cake.

In your peripheral vision, you spy his hands crawling towards your sides to cinch around your waist, his front pressing into you as he holds you from behind. The warmth of his body seeps into your back, and you swear you can feel the beating of his chest against your shoulder blades. A tingle shoots straight down your spine when he plants a soft, brief kiss on the shell of your ear.

Good thing you turned around then, your intuition was right. Taehyung has never been able to suppress his overt affection after a few drinks, and certainly not after this many. And no matter how much you want to just turn around and pull him into your lips, you fight it.

“Babe...” He groans into your ear and though it was barely audible even to you, you quickly glance up to see if anyone has heard. Of course, no one heard, they are all stood far enough that even without the music, they’d have to strain their ears to hear his whisper. Paranoia is eating your head away.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, Taehyung.” Your heart is racing, which is weird because you swear you used to be completely immune to his charms. “You’re being too obvious, babe.”

“You don’t ‘babe’ me. I can’t control myself when you call me that.” The warmth of his breath fans all over the back of your neck, sending a convulsion of shivers down your spine.

One of his hands stretches for your wine glass, but knowing him well enough to predict it, you draw it away from his reach. “Stop drinking, you’re literally about to pass out.”

“No, you’re about to pass out. On my-” hiccup, “dick.” You keep your eyes locked on the crowd, ready to shove Taehyung away if anyone looks your way. But still, you can’t help but lean back into him.

“That made no sense.” You chuckle, fingers brushing over the smooth thin skin of this hand.

“Just one sip.”

“Taehyung. Stop. Drinking.” You grab his hand that tries to make a run for the wine again.

“But, Y/N…” He whines and slumps onto you, knowing that whining has gotten him what he wanted before.

You turn around, grab his face and pull him towards you until your mouth is brushing his earlobe. “Be a good boy and stop drinking if you want the best birthday sex of your life after this party. You better not get whiskey dick because a have a lot planned for you.”

At that, Taehyung stops breathing, stops resisting. Against your shoulder, you feel his chest jump. “Oh. Um. Okay, yup, no more drinking. Got it, ma’am.”

He sighs, completely at your disposal, as your touch trails from the sensitive side of his neck down to his torso. “Good.” After looking around again to check that no one is looking, you press your alcohol-infused lips onto his hastily, savouring his softness for no longer than a few seconds before pulling away. God, is it difficult to pull away. You’re aching for him. “Go entertain the guests while you sober up.”

Satisfied grin from the kiss stretched across his face, he nods obediently and scampers over to his friends.

“Are you ready yet?” Taehyung calls, impatient and giddy, the music that you’ve put on playing softly in the background.

“Give me one more second.” You reply from the bathroom, doing up your last button and regarding yourself in the mirror. Hm, not bad. You’re pleased with how this turned out, if you do say so yourself. Taehyung is going to lose his mind.

Sheer black stockings stretched thin over your legs, you strut into his room where he is seated on a chair in nothing but his boxers, wrists shackled to the back. When his eyes land on you, a strangled noise emits from his throat.

“Holy. Fuck. Holy fuck. Holyfuckholyfuckholyfuck.” He chokes out.

The checkered material of your school skirt flies up at your every step teasingly, not high enough for him to peek your panties, but enough for your thighs to be flaunted.The clip of your stockings sit cool and beguiling on your quads. First two buttons of your white blouse undone, the matching red tartan tie hangs loosely around your neck between your exposed, pushed up cleavage. Your hair is tied into two school-girl braids, decorated in ribbons.

You’re Taehyung’s walking talking fantasy.

Innocent, chaste, ready for him to defile.

“Sir.” You address him, committing to your character, as you bow your head in courtesy.

Taehyung doesn’t appear capable of words, Adam’s apple wobbling in awe. So you continue your approach, making sure to regard him with large, demure eyes. As you sink down onto your knees between his widespread trembling legs, you notice a prominence already erecting in his boxers. You try not to smirk.

“What can I do for you, sir?” You put on your sweetest, most virgin of voices and bat your lashes once at him.

Chest rising quickly, Taehyung gulps as he realises that he’s most definitely going about to have the best sex of his life. “Um. Uh. Um.”

Smiling at his malfunctioning cognition, no thanks to you, you decide to help him out a little. “I’ve been sent to you for being a bad girl, sir.”

Do you find this slightly humiliating and degrading? Yes, you’re a woman of pride and a feminist. But does Taehyung’s birthday outweigh your morals? Yes, if only just for this night.

“What… What did you do, baby girl?” Voice dangerously deep, Taehyung watches you from his handcuffed posture, watches you twirl your braids in your fingers before they move sensual down your front, curving over your breasts and travelling to your core.

“It’s embarrassing to say but…” You look down in feign shame. “I touched myself.”

His whole frame tenses, arms straining to be freed from the cuffs so he can throw you onto the bed and fuck you mercilessly. His lips are parted, breath unsteady, cheeks still slightly stained from the alcohol but you made sure that he’s mostly sober by now. “Why did you touch yourself?”

“I was thinking about you, sir, and I just couldn’t help myself. Something started tickling down there and it felt so good to touch it.” Biting your lip, your fingers reach your clit over your skirt and start rubbing. The other hand traces swirls slowly up his thighs, higher and higher, until he’s buckling his hips.

“Wait, pause.” He says, your touch ceasing at his command. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m not going to last if you do this to me. I might even cum my pants.”

Usual smugness returning as you smirk up at him, your teeth digs deeper into your lower lip, refusing to break character. “Well, it’s a good thing we have all night then, sir. A water hose doesn’t just fire once does it?”

“Fuck.” Shutting his eyes, his head falls back to reveal his gulping jugular. Already so malleable? Yeah, he’s definitely not going to last. The first round. “Okay, okay. Resume.”

Your fingers reach the hem of his boxers, skimming through his tan, lustrous inner thighs. He jerks, his hard member jabbing out the soft cotton, begging to be freed. “So I was wondering if there is any way I could get out of this punishment, sir. My parents can’t find out that I’ve been a bad girl. I’ll do anything you want me to do, sir.”

“I see, Miss Y/L/N… How about, you warm up my lap for me first? I’m feeling slightly cold.” He wets his lips and bounces on his toes, his hard length jolting along with his legs.

“Oh, of course, sir.” When you stand up, you make sure to do it slowly, curving your body towards him to give him a good look at your breasts. He doesn’t miss the chance to devour them with his eyes.

Your hips begin to sway in the rhythm of the slow sensual music while you turn until your back faces him. You feel his glare immediate follow your ass, skirt sloshing side to side to reveal your plush cheeks. But rather than falling onto his lap as he wants, you stride over his leg, hand trailing across his chest as you begin to walk around him.

Massaging up his bicep, your hand arrives at his collar as you lick a thin strip up his neck. Taehyung shudders, struggling against his handcuffs again, cursing. “I can do anything you want me to, sir.” He shivers as you whisper into his ear, teeth grazing his skin. Your own heart is racing from excitement. Maybe you should do this more often. It’s selfish of you to do so since it’s meant to be his birthday sex after all, but you enjoy having him helt under you, seconds away from whimpering, gone be his natural preference for dominance.

As you walk around him, his head turns with you, not wishing for his sight to miss a second of this private show. Patience isn’t something he’s born with, he is a man who’s used to ceasing everything he wants. You know what must be going through his head right now, the anticipation, the hunger. So finally, when you’ve done a full circle around, hands not once missing the opportunity to feather his chest, you decide to ease him a little.

Deliberately unrushed, you sit inch by inch down onto his lap until his dick is burrowed between your warm cheeks underneath your skirt.

“Baby…” Taehyung immediately sits up, mouth arriving at the back of your neck, exhaling his hot fervour. The feeling of his skin pressed on the strip of yours between your skirt and cropped blouse has you craving for him to pound into you right now. Nothing can describe the flash of desire you get when you feel the touch of his naked body.

Then you begin to roll your hips, drawing loops of infinity with your ass to the beat of the song. The groan you elicit makes your cunt pulse. Taehyung’s stiff length jerks between your wiggling ass. His head falls onto your shoulder in a huff, metallic sound of his chains ringing as his arms clench.

“Sir, is that warm enough?” Your hips are merciless, rock back and forth, providing him with the friction he so craves. Hell, maybe you should start doing this for a living.

“Y… Yeah.” There is defeat in his voice, a croak that tells you that you’re the only woman to ever put him in his place like this. The only he’d ever submit to.

Slowly, you peel yourself off his lap, delighting in the small stained spot on his boxers, evidence of his drooling dick. You sink onto your knees before him again, fingers crawling playfully up his thighs. “You seem a little stiff, sir. Do you want me to ease some tension in your muscles for you?”

“Please be a dear.” The fervour in his eyes as he gazes down at you is pure, undiluted. It stirs something beastly inside you.

You’ve sucked Taehyung off a hundred times before, but something about the fact that he’s handcuffed to a chair on his birthday, almost cumming his pants, makes you especially eager this time.

A string of precum greets you as you take his lividly throbbing cock out of its restraints. You spare it a few pumps before you enclose the warm wet cave of your mouth around it. It’s perhaps evil of you, but you cut to the chase and go straight to deep-throating. He lets out a yelp of surprise when his tip slides smoothly through and hits the back of your throat. He’s going to cum soon, might as well give him your all, right?

Your mouth has gotten used to resisting the gag reflexes by now, engulfing him like a strawberry ice lolly during the summer heat. The occasional scrape of your teeth, just the way he loves, has him shiver beneath you. If he likes it rough, he should be able to take it rough. And when your tongue begins its inexorable attack at the pinch of skin where his tip ties to his shaft, Taehyung lets out a throaty cry. Not even a moan, a cry.

“Fuck, I’m losing my mind. Y/N, oh my god, keep going.” Through your curled lashes, you gaze up at him. His brows furrowed, guzzling up his favourite view in the world, maybe second to you riding him. Jaw unscrewed, he heaves at your large feign-innocent eyes, wrists dying to be freed so he could fuck your mouth.

Two throbs at the base of his cock, and he’s cumming right down your throat. It’s a larger load that either of you’d expected, telling of his obscene concupiscence. There’s so much cum that you can’t swallow, so you have no choice but to let it flow down his cock. With you still staring at him, he watches his white hot fluid dribble out your mouth and onto him, his features screwed tight in pleasure.

“Lick it off, baby.” Taehyung rasps, half his mind completely gone, dilapidated.

You hum as you spread his liquid around his tip and along his shaft, lips now glossy, before you slowly lap it all up. You know he is particularly sensitive after cumming, so you wallow in teasing his head a bit more, watching him writhe on his seat, whining your name. “Sir, how was that?”

Taehyung’s head is tossed back, eyes shut to recover from that post-orgasm intensity. He doesn’t speak at first, still trying to piece back together his mind. “I… That was… You deserve a worse punishment for doing that to me.”

Your core twists in excitement.

Briskly, you fish out the key to his handcuffs and unlock him, thrumming from the molten fury in his eyes. “What did I do wrong, sir?”

As soon as his wrists are free from their shackles, Taehyung stands and throws you over his shoulders. Smack. He hits your ass, your skirt doing little to soften the blow. You never knew yourself to be a masochist until it comes to Taehyung; his are the only hands you’d allow to spank you.

Then he tosses you onto the bed, your skirt flying up to reveal your peachy ass as you land on your front. “You just love it when I’m under your control, don’t you? Even this innocent school-girl roleplay is just a disguise to get me to beg for you, isn’t it?”

Twisting your head back, a smirk plays at your lips as you regard his frustrated yet immensely pleased expression. His fingers glide up your silky stockings enticingly, sending shivers coursing up your legs. “Sir, I have no idea what you mean.”

“Look at your fucking ass in this skirt, holy fuck.” He begins to knead the supple flesh of your behind, pushing up the skirt until it sit on your lower back.

Another smack.

He’s such an ass man through and through.

“Do you like my uniform, sir?” You moan between his smacks. Nothing really is compelling you to continue with this roleplay, but something tells you that Taehyung is bursting from it.

“I fucking love it, baby girl.” Smack. You can practically hear him grinning in satisfaction. His palm massages the redness he inflicted like smearing paint, touch growing closer and closer to your core.

Then with one push at your inner thighs, he spreads your legs wide open.

“Fucking hell. Crotchless? You’re really spoiling me tonight.” Like a little boy on Christmas Day, he marvels at your glistening slit, gaping at him in anticipation. Another small surprise for him.

“Of course- ahh!” You break into a moan when he runs two fingers down your folds, all the way to your bulging clit. “For the birthday boy.”

“Okay, now you definitely deserve the best head.” He lies on his front and grips onto your thighs to pull himself up to face level with your cunt.

You won’t tell him to prevent further ego inflation but every head he gives is the best head.

“Wait, Taehyung, it’s your birthday. Just let me-” You squirm in his clutch, trying to flip around, but he holds you still.

“Exactly. My birthday. I get to eat you out if I want to. It’s what my baby girl deserves.” For some reason, you blush. Who are you to resist head, especially from Taehyung?

Heat of his breath tickling your entrance, you plant your face onto the pillow and clamp down on your lip, preparing for that mind-twisting sensation that has a way of robbing you of sanity. His mouth finds your thighs first, kissing, sucking, blooming roses of his affection. You let him mark you - you are completely his tonight. Then his breath arrives at the sensitive crevice where your folds begin, a slow seduction towards your tingling bud. When he finally latches onto your clit, your eyes roll to the back of your empty head, a whimper ensuing.

His tongue is a predatory serpent, ceaselessly rolling your bud in his mouth. He’s rough, generous with the waves of pleasure he sends. You wish you aren’t lying on your front right now, just so you can look down at his concentrated face and pull on his wavy mop of hair.

With every flick of his tongue, you swim closer to your orgasm. His fingers are digging to your thighs, his breath quickening with his face buried in you. When he adds his long slender digits, you know your demise is round the corner.

“Fuck, daddy.” You yell into the pillow, that name coming so naturally to you that it requires zero brain processing to leave you.

Taehyung hums in response, those baritone vibrations shaking into your core until your leg involuntarily kicks back. Gripping onto the sheets, a string of profanities expel from you as that euphoric current comes crashing onto you, drowning your surroundings so that all you feel is his face, his tongue, his teeth, still mercilessly going despite your state.

“Fuck!” A tear slips from the violent stimulation at your clit continuing past your orgasm. You guess it’s payback.

Not one minute later, a second climax hits you, this time stronger than the last as it rides on the residual pleasure. The orgasm disperses into tension down your thighs, dying for more friction to relieve your cunt of the blissful ache. Warm tears stain the pillowcase your face is buried in, your cries muffled.

His pace gradually decelerates into soft kisses on your flower, fingers withdrawing to massage your folds. You are motionless, completely depleted after the dopaminergic release. Delicately, his lips travel up to your ass, where he sucks more colours as he awaits your recovery.

“How was that, baby girl?” Taehyung slowly turns you over onto your back, a lazy grin on his glistening mouth, your wetness slathered all over his nose. It views in your eyes as a display of your possession. You don’t miss the triumph in his gaze; you wonder if he likes making you cum more than cumming himself.

“Your mouth is fucking incredible.” You bask in the post-orgasm high, pulling him atop you, hand locking in his curls. You taste yourself as you kiss him, slowly and lethargically, your energy ebbing back to you.

“Yeah?” He smiles against your lips. “You know what’s incredible? You in this fucking uniform.” Pulling away, he scans your body top to bottom. And as you follow his gaze, you notice his hardened cock, once again ready for another round. You surprise yourself with how ready you are to take him, exhaustion not yet settled in from his overstimulation.

“You like it that much?” You press your lips together, and as used to Taehyung’s constant flattery as you should be, you still feel proud.

Taehyung nestles his face onto your neck. “If we went to high school together, I would 100% have been your bitch. Not a single doubt. Whipped.”

Your heart squeezes. Whipped.

You kiss his hair, resisting the urge to make a comment about what he said. “Haha. I would not have noticed you, I was obsessed with the captain of the football team.”

Taehyung lifts his head up, frowning at you with a playful annoyance. “Are you sure you want to mention another man in front of me right now?” For emphasis of his possessive mood, he grinds his member into your thigh. You can’t help but push back to feel him digging into you. Possessive Taehyung toys with your strings.

“Yeah, what are you going to do about it?” You taunt further, pulling on his locks. Taehyung’s competitiveness is an easy target for manipulation; everytime he starts to go soft and sappy on you, all you have to do is tug on his jealousy and the bull will come charging back full force.

Surely enough, he growls into your ear. “Don’t forget who you’re speaking to, miss. You wouldn’t want your parents knowing the naughty things you’ve been up to, would you?” So he does love the roleplay. His tone slightly sarcastic, but also not really. But before you can hiss a witty response, he silences you with his teeth on your neck. As he sucks on your tender skin, your nails rake across his back in pleasure. He’s growing bolder with his territory.

“More hickeys?” You purr, not exactly in the complaining tone you’d wished it would come out in.

“Yeah, what are you going to do about it?” He mocks, leaving a wet purple trail across your throat.

You allow it for the sole reason that it’s his birthday. Otherwise, you’d be kicking off.

You’ve never liked the idea of hickeys, the notion that someone feels entitled to mark your skin as theirs. You don’t belong to anyone. This is your own skin, and no one else’s. Yet - right now, as Taehyung nips at your neck, hand yanking on your uniform’s tie to pull you closer to him, you feel like you do belong…

You don’t finish that thought.

Reaching down, you begin stroking his patiently awaiting cock. “You’re brave for someone who’s dick is in my hands.”

Taehyung breaks away from your neck and reviews his work of art. The wolfish grin an indication of his pride. “You’re going to kill me tomorrow.” He says without the fear that should come with such statement.

Yes, you’re definitely going to.

“Then fuck me until I forgive you.” You challenge, unbuttoning the first button of your shirt while your stroking quickens.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Fingers scrambling to undo the rest of your shirt, his mouth finds yours again, sucking on your bottom lip until it’s sure to swell later. Your bra falls loose with a dexterous flick, a gesture he can do in his sleep. Yet, he makes no move to remove your checkered tie at all.

When you try to loosen it yourself, he grabs your hand and pins it against the pillow. “That stays on tonight, along with the skirt and the stockings.” Voice laced with carnality, there’s a feral glint in his glare.

“Yes, sir.” Smile unstifled, you fall back into obedience.

Taehyung dares to plant more bitemarks down your chest before taking your nipple in his mouth, tormenting the sensitive bud relentlessly. Patience wearing thin, you line his tip with your slit, dallying it around to coat it with your dampness.

“Wait, grab a condom.” He mutters.

“Don’t need one.”

He looks up, confused. “What? Why?”

“I started taking the pill. Surprise.”

The look of pure shock and delight that usurps his face, for the third? fourth? time tonight, sows a seed of joy in your core.

“Wait, seriously?” You swear you feel his cock twitch happily in your hand. That stupid boxy grin that makes him look like a kid again… You want to kiss him dizzy.

“Yes, seriously.” You would never admit that you started taking contraception solely for Taehyung, because that would be weird, you absolutely did not do it for Taehyung. You’d always wanted to start contraception anyway. This was your own decision, influenced by no one else.

Certainly. No one else. Of course.

“Holy fucking shit. Y/N, you’re amazing.” Taehyung cannot contain his glee despite its juxtaposition with his pulsating cock about to enter you any moment now. “All this for me?” He asks, still in disbelief, as if the answer isn’t already written in big bold black letters.

“For the birthday boy, and the birthday boy only.” Your nose grazes his. These are the very words you’d be embarrassed to be caught saying to any guy, yet you’re currently too fuelled by the desire to please him to berate yourself.

Without another second gone to waste, Taehyung pushes his girthy member into your heat. Though it glides in with ease, your walls are stretched so wide that your inside stir, a sore pressure squeezing around him with each thrust. You always seem to forget how well he fits into you, and so each time comes as an eye-rolling surprise - the way he fills you so completely and entirely with his hefty cock.

“Oh fuck, you feel so-” He doesn’t manage to finish his sentence, too caught up in the raw unobstructed sensation of your slick walls.

Lifting your leg over his shoulder, the cavernous angle allows him to jolt deeper into you, his tip violently punching through you. While one hand remains on your ankle, the other twists your tie around his wrist and pulls as if it were a leash. “Sir…” You choke out at the constriction around your throat.

“Are you going to bad girl again?” He grunts, sweat beading on his forehead while he continues to ram his hips.

“No, sir. I won’t touch myself again,” you moan under him, “unless you are watching.”

“Fuck, Y/N.” One eye shut, Taehyung sticks his thumb into your mouth to suckle on. Your tongue swirls around his finger, biting down every time you need to shriek in pleasure.

After a while, he flips your bodies over so that you are riding him, watching, mesmerised, as your breasts bounce freely each time you spring on his dick. Your body falls back at the rippling coil inside you, hands braced on the mattress to keep you upright.

Taehyung could watch you ride him for the rest of his life. Hell, if he has a heart attack and dies this very moment, he would die the happiest man.

Sometimes, while you’re fucking, Taehyung gets a sudden rush of jealousy. Jealous that he wasn’t the one to ruin your innocence. Jealous that someone else other than him got to, or still gets to, fuck you like this.

He pulls on your tie so that you fall over him, lips colliding to remind himself that he’s the one fucking you right now, the rest shouldn’t matter. The way you moan into him reassures that no one has ever, or can ever, fuck you the way he does.

Then a messy whimper leaves you like a symphony, and for the third time tonight, you come undone, unravelled.

“Fu-u-u-uckkk.” You cry, arms looping around Taehyung’s neck, holding on as if he’s your lifeline because you yourself are unsure how much of this you can take before you drown.

“Baby, you’re so good, cumming for me again.” He sings, knowing that words like these thrums something in your core. You lap up his praise, smiling against his teeth despite yourself. It’s honestly a miracle how your usual brusque controlling self is suddenly transformed into his docile little girl, especially after a round of orgasms. “I’m going to cum again too.”

“Daddy, fuck, please. Cum inside me.” You pant, hips bouncing as fast as your aching muscles allow. Truth be told, no one has ever finished inside you before. And you are dying to find out how it feels.

Taehyung seems to know this. He grabs onto your waist, holding you in place, and plunges unforgivingly into you, penetrating your walls so ardently that you are shoved near the brink of yet another orgasm.

A grumble rippling through the room, finally, you feel a hot jet shoot into you, squirt after squirt of his thick cum filling you up. He frowns, a hoarse cry from the immense pleasure arriving at his cock, taking over him. Fucking hell, this is hot.

And kind of really intimate.

However, you notice that his pace has yet to slacken.

“I’m not done with you yet.” His eyes open to reveal pupils glowing with vehemence. Your clit throbs.

Still inside you, he turns you over so that you are both on your sides spooning, one of your legs hoisted up by his rough grip. The slap of your skin rings crisp and clear as he continues to fuck you. You lean back into him, ignoring the sticky coat of sweat coalescing your skins. His cum lubricates each thrust as you feel some spill out of you. His fingers start to stimulate your clit to help you reach your ultimate climax, viciously rubbing your sensitive swollen bud so much that you begin to see stars.

For him to keep fucking you even after cumming despite his tremendous sensitivity… Taehyung is going wild tonight.

“Are you going to cum one last time for me, baby girl?” He pants heavily in your ear.

“Yes, daddy.” Your own cunt is leaking profusely its tears of joy; you don’t think you’ve ever been this wet before.

In a few more thrusts, Taehyung is cumming inside you again, this time naturally less than the last, yet from his loud coarse groan, you deduce is much more intense. He pounds slowly yet robustly, milking every last drop into you. Due to the sheer oversensitivity, he has no choice but to pull out of you immediately after, leaving a spurt of his cum surging out of you.

“Oh my god.” He moans into your neck, both your heads spinning from the vigour of your intercourse.

But he knows you’re still a minute away from your orgasm. And never one to disappoint, he quickly sits up and spreads your legs open.

“Holy fuck.” Taehyung freezes at the sight of his cum slowly trickling out of you. To him, it’s a sign of possession, ownership. Apart from his ex, he has never fucked without protection, certainly not those random one night stands. To him, it’s a sign of intimacy.

Catching his white liquid in two fingers, he inserts it into your already gaping mouth, smearing it all over your tongue. In your cute little braids, you swallow it willingly, and Taehyung swears that he could fuck you again right then and there.

“You like that?” He asks, sticky fingers entering your core, feeling how clenched you are due to the pent up pressure.

“Mhmm.” You nod, hips lifting off the bed so that he can reach deeper. His thumb massages your clit, long digits moving in a come hither motion, stretching your walls in cusps that his cock did not have the ductility to reach. “Ahh, shit.”

Determination worn on his face despite his tiring limbs, Taehyung fucks you with his finger as you thrash beneath him. Your clit is already exploding with sensitivity from the previous rounds, and on top of that, with his thick knuckles push into you again and again, you are clawing at him while your whole body convulses.

The coil within your finally snaps. The ecstatic sensation exploding within you, flooding your every fibre until tears spring out your eyes. A clear liquid shoots out of you to both your surprises, and sprays its droplets towards Taehyung. His eyes widen, marvelling at your beauty as you cum not only on his fingers but all over him.

“Jesus Christ!” Chuffed with himself evidently, he leans in to kiss you, deep and desperate, while his fingers slow their steady thrusts to let you ride out the remainder of your high. His mouth is warm, a familiar taste as you regain your sense of self and surrounding that you tend to lose during sex.

As your brain begins to function again, the first thought you register is how much you don’t want to stop kissing Taehyung, how much you don’t want to let go of him.

“Taehyung…” You whine, bottom lip in the possession of his teeth.

“Feeling good?” He lets go of his bite, but lips remain dearly magnetised to yours. Dragging out his fingers, the wet noises of your clenched walls ring. Taehyung sucks on his dripping digits as you push his sweat-dampened fringe out of his face to survey his eyes. Full of yearning. And the way he is sucking… appears almost as a last display of submission after completely ruining you. A last shred of I’m yours.

“So.” You peck him. “Fucking.” Another. “Good.” Peck. Your bodies naked, your skirt creased and skin claggy, you refuse to release each other from your embrace. “But Taehyung…”

“What it is, my baby?” From on top of you, he is looking down at you as if you’re some delicate little buttercup in a barren field, a ray of joy radiating from his smile.

You tense. My baby.

You two might be kind of screwed...

But you’ll think about that another time. Right now, you just want to be held and kissed and looked after.

“It’s not fair. This was meant for you, but you made it about me.” You don’t know what’s taken over you but you pout at him, the same way he would do to you when he wanted something. But why, of course, it’s just like Taehyung to make you come four times despite it being his birthday sex. You don’t even know what to expect for your own birthday.

His own hair dishevelled, he tucks your loose braids behind your ears, a gesture of affection. “Nothing gets me off more than making you feel good. This was about me. This was everything I wanted. Best sex I’ve ever had. But in what world would my best sex not include making you squirt?”

Your don’t know why but you feel incredibly vulnerable right now, your hard edges softening. It’s the after-sex glow that you’re seeing everything in. You feel warm, bubbly, tender.

And now your chest feels weird, like something itching to rupture out of your ribcage. You want it to stop, yet also don’t.

“Taehyung…” You whine his name again. “No fair… You can’t be like this.” Your brain offers no explanation as to why you’ve adopted his usual saccharine manner, other than the fact that he has fucked you completely senseless.

“Like what?” He asks, egging the rare words of sweetness out of you.

“Like… You know… So giving and nice and perf…” Your voice trails off when you notice his excited smirk. God, what the fuck are you saying? You flush in embarrassment.

“Perf…? His smug grin only grows at your shyness.

“Stop. You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Stop teasing me.” Taehyung chuckles at your frustration, taking the chance to kiss the tip of your nose before you try to squirm out of his arms like a cat.

“No, go on. You need to be better with your words. Tell me how you feel.”

Your entire face is heated.

“I… You’re just… You treat me so well. How am I supposed to sleep with anyone else anymore?” You immediately wish you didn’t say it out loud. Because your phrasing implies that you want monogamy, commitment. It’s not what you meant at all, you don’t think. You just meant… You don’t know what you just meant.

You search his eyes frantically, in fear that he’s thinking the same, only to find them calm, content. “I mean, I guess I’m pretty fucking awesome. Thanks.”

Rolling your eyes, you’re grateful for his childish humour obstructing any serious consideration of your words.

“Don’t make me take it back, moron.” You scoff, pinching his round cheek between your knuckles.

“Too bad, it’s my birthday, everything I say is the law.” Still hovering over you, he presses gentle kisses all over your face, delighting in the way you pretend to hate it even though you can’t suppress the smile. When he stops, his face is sincere, the playfulness gone. “Y/N.”

“What?”

“Thank you so much, honestly, from the bottom of my heart. This was… the best birthday I’ve ever had. Not just the sex, but the whole time with you, the dinner, the party, everything.” Your heartbeat quickens, unable to hold his gaze so you focus on the curve of his collarbone instead. “Even better than the pirate-themed birthday party my parents threw me when I turned eight.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Honoured. It was my pleasure.”

“Seriously, I lov-”

Taehyung catches himself before he could finish that sentence. Those unspoken words hang over your heads like a puppet.

Because for some reason, although you’ve said ‘I love you’ to each other a plethora of times in the past, this time feels like a different connotation is implicated. The line between platonic love and romantic love feels blurred. And neither of you know which love is meant.

Taehyung is a sentimental guy, you tell yourself. Of course he means he loves you as his best friend. And that’s surely what you mean too when your eyes are pleading him to keep kissing you.

There’s a moment of silence, for you both to gather your scattered thoughts, staring at each other, unsure what to say.

You clear your throat, dispelling the tension in the air.

“Lets go clean up.”

“Yeah.” Taehyung rolls off you, avoiding your eye as much as you are avoiding his.

The clean up is wordless, both pretending to be too preoccupied to spare the unspoken words any thought.

Except they’re all that’s playing at your mind.

Taehyung didn’t mean it like that. Taehyung doesn’t love you like that. You’re just overthinking. And he’s overthinking about you overthinking. You two are fine, you’re normal.

Examining the purple clouds he had imprinted on you, a stream down your neck, a cluster around your breasts, then the large ones between your thighs, you’re surprised to find not one drip of annoyance. A scary thought dawns on you. What if you like them? What if you like being marked by Taehyung?

What the fuck is happening?

You wait for him to crack a joke to ease up the awkwardness, glancing up at him in the mirror as you dry your hands on the towel by the sink. He doesn’t. Instead, he’s perched on the edge of the bath tube. Zoned out.

Have you finally taken it too far? Finally overstepped that hazy nebulous line that you perhaps should have set more clear?

“Hey, Taehyung.” His head snaps up at you, eyes large with uncertainty. “You okay?”

You want to reach out to touch him, brush his cheek, kiss his forehead. But you hold back. Not wanting to fuel the fire of confusion. But then he tugs you towards him by the hem of your skirt, corner of his lips turning up, imbuing you with a gust of relief.

“Just thinking.” His fingers crawl up your legs, holding onto your hips like his hands belong to nowhere else. “Come here.”

Chest pounding, you walk towards him, let him sit you down on his lap. Though you wish not to look at him with his face so close to yours, your eyes cannot pull away from his striking beauty. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, but Taehyung’s feel more like the front door to your home. When you look into them, no matter how you’re feeling, whether you’d been fighting or kissing, you just feel embraced in a cloud of clarity, security.

You don’t want to think about the complication between you two at the moment. You just want to be looking at him, touching him, holding him.

You watch him glance at your lips, hesitancy playing at his mind. You know he’s thinking the same.

“We’re okay, right?” Throat tight, you ask, rather pointlessly.

“Of course. We’re great, same old us.” His arm around your waist feels warm and safe, and when your mirror his growing smile, you almost believe him.

But when your lips gently press against his, you know it’s a lie.

You’re not the same old you.

Taehyung feels different. Skin smoother, tastes sweeter, mouth softer. The roughness of his usual kisses is gone, replaced by an inexplicable tenderness that makes you feel things in your gut. You swat those feelings away.

Something is changing. And as much as you don’t want to acknowledge it, you don’t think you can ignore its booming presence.

You don’t dare make a sound as he carries you back to his room. You don’t protest when he throws one of his t-shirts over your head. Nor when he holds you into his chest, lips tracing your forehead with a soft sleepy smile.

Noting that you’re being uncharacteristically quiet, he pokes the nub of your nose. “Who stole your tongue?”

Act normal. Just be your loud annoying self.

“Uh… You.” You murmur, unable to meet his eye even with strenuous effort

Well, fuck.

“Okay, let me give it back to you.” Before you can protest, he is kissing you again. And you want to push him away because you feel your heart lurching to your throat, and you don’t think it is healthy. But your feeble hand that was meant to shove him off lands weakly on his pec, and somehow with a mind of its own, snakes up to his neck and pulls him in. His tongue unfurls onto yours, gently sweeping away any logic.

When his lips finally leave yours, you’re out of breath.

You don’t know what’s happened to you. Since when did you react like this to Taehyung?

Forcing your usual smirk, you try to wear a convincing facade that you feel nothing out of the ordinary. “I’m expecting great things for my birthday, though to be honest this is going to be hard to beat.” The underlying dishonesty tastes sour. You’ve never had to put on a front with Taehyung, and doing so now feels… alien.

“I’ll start planning it tomorrow, don’t you worry, your highness.” Taehyung pretends to roll his eyes at your demand, though the circles he’s rubbing down your back is telling of his genuinity. He isn’t an classically romantic guy, not one for flowers and chocolate, but more a sentimental gift that leaves a deep meaning. You know you’ll love whatever he plans. It worries you that you’ll perhaps love it too much. “But seriously, thank you for everything. The easel? How much did that cost you? I’ve looked at that brand before and there’s no way it was cheap.”

“It doesn’t matter how much it costed.” Warmth is creeping up on your cheeks again. You try to excuse it as Taehyung’s radiant body heat. “Let’s just say I had to resort to prostitution to pay for it, okay?”

Bodies shuddering in laughter, some tension in the air is thankfully alleviated by your humour, filling you with hope that things should and will return to normal in no time. You just need to stop overthinking.

“Hey, can you sleep here tonight?”

You freeze at his request. Because despite your constant fucking around with each other, one clear boundary has been that you don’t physically sleep with each other after sex. If you do sleep over, it is always just a completely platonic gesture. No kissing or fondling. Something about falling asleep in each other’s naked bodies is too mushy and couple-like. The type of thing that make you puke.

“Why?” You frown defiantly at him. “It’s not even your birthday anymore, it’s past midnight. So technically, I don’t have to treat you like royalty anymore.”

“Why not?” Taehyung rebuts, that cocky expression making you want to nipple-cripple him. This difficult son of a bitch, does he not know that the line is going hazy between you two?

“It’s weird, we just had sex.”

“So? What do you have against sleeping together after sex? Scared that you’ll fall in love with me?”

Your chest sinks to your stomach. You swear to god, Kim Taehyung is going to be the fucking death of you, stupid shit. How could he even say something like that so casually?

“In your fucking dreams, prick. If anything, you’d be the one to fall in love with me first, I just made you cum three times.” Taehyung chuckles at the flash of fury in your eyes, amused by how easy it is to strike a nerve in you.

“Do you want me to fall in love with you?” Though his tone is playful, and the wiggle of his brows suggests his mockery, you don’t know if he is completely joking anymore. And suddenly, everywhere that you’re touching - your entangled legs, his hands on the small of your back, your chests pressed on each other - everywhere starts to burn.

“Shut up, I’ll fucking sleep here, okay?”

And so this night, for the first time in the seven months you’ve been on-and-off fornicating alongside your unwavering friendship, you rest in Taehyung’s bed, your frame tucked snugly in his, his arm reposed on your waist. And despite your fatigue, it takes too long for sleep to find you as you watch his shoulders rise and fall in the dark, lips slightly parted, beckoning you to kiss them.

26/12/19

@taexxxiiaa @shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365 @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @expensive-bangtan-girl@gingerpeachtae @spring2787 @askingtheimportantthingshere @casualminiaturetimemachine @xblackclover13x @vasysauce @deadinsidebitch2412 @emiyooa @i-dont-even-know-fck @chimycthulhu @gixanjos @hisunshiine @xtaeyi @softjellyjimin @bluemooncnblue @malfeitofeitto @bangtanfancamp @keopitae @out-of-jams

2K notes · View notes

jaeminlore · 4 years

Text

I’ll Be Home For Christmas | Jaehyun

summary: you can count on me

words: 2.2k+

category: jaehyun x gender neutral reader unless i slipped up, in which pls tell me so i can fix it, coworker au, fake dating au, fluff, jaehyun wears sweaters, pillow fights, mistletoe (but not in the way you’d expect), jaehyun sees reader holding a baby and short circuits, this is the softest thing i’ve ever written and i’m proud of it

warning(s): christmas is explicitly mentioned as opposed to any other holiday, this is based off of a more southern/american style christmas that i’m used to, some drinking but no one gets drunk

When your co-worker, Jaehyun, approaches you a day before winter break, you think little of it. The two of you are the only teachers in the school less than forty years old, so you often hang out together.

You figure he'll wish you a gentle happy holidays in that soft voice of his, and be on his way.

Instead, he looks nervous, wringing his beanie through his fingers. "Heading out?"

"Yeah," you sigh. "Two full weeks of no pay, and all of my family has planned a Christmas in the Bahamas without me."

Jaehyun whistles lowly. "That sounds a bit..."

"Sad?" you stuff your books into your box. "Yeah, but it's whatever. I'll find something to do."

"You could come home with me," Jaehyun says. "I mean, my family thought I was bringing a significant other anyway, so it kind of works out."

"Huh?" You glance up at the fellow teacher in his stupid teddy bear cardigan. It makes him look soft and cozy. "What works out?"

"I need you to pretend to be dating me during break."

"Why?" you ask. The only reason you aren't more surprised is the fact that Jaehyun is always using weird anecdotes to get out of things, and you assume this is nothing different.

"Like I said, my parents think I'm bring home a significant other."

"Why don't you just tell them you don't have one?" you ask.

Jaehyun pokes at the miniature globe on your desk. "If I told them that, they'd try to hook me up with one of their picks. Listen, when I lied to them, I didn't think they'd insist I bring my significant other to family functions."

"That's kind of what happens when you're dating someone," you say. "Anyways, so what? I pretend to be dating you, and in return I get free food and board for the holidays?"

"My mom will buy you a present," Jaehyun adds on.

You hand Jaehyun your box of things you have to take home during break. "Here. Carry this to my car, and you have a deal."

(It's only on the way to his parent's house when you realize that you might have to buy all of his family presents, too. When you voice these concerns to Jaehyun, he reaches over the console and pats your knee. "Not to worry. I just put our names on everything.")

Jaehyun's mother's hugs are a lot like Jaehyun's. She squeezes you tightly, as if she's a boa constrictor and you are merely the innocent prey.

Jaehyun doesn't save you either, he just giggles at your disheveled appearance and fixes your hair. "Mom likes hugs."

"Oh, so do you," Mrs. Jung swats at Jaehyun's arm. "Anyways, tell me about the two of you."

"Oh!" You clear your throat and move closer to Jaehyun. You actually have no idea what he's told them about you, and you also didn't make up a cover story, so you're a bit out of luck.

Luckily, Jaehyun lies like a politician. He wraps his arm around your waist and laughs. It's fake, you know, but his mom seems to believe it. "We're at the same school, mom. I've told you about Y/n before."

"Oh! The third grade teacher?" Mrs. Jung finally makes the connection. She turns to you. "He used to gush about you all the time. I never realized you're the one he asked out."

Jaehyun's grip on you tightens just briefly, so you figure Mrs. Jung has said just a bit too much. Still, you have to play into the facade, so you lean into him. "I gushed about him a fair bit, too. And then one night I asked him out, and he said yes."

"Oh, you asked him out?" Mrs. Jung's eyes sparkle with interest. She has the same adorable dimples as her son.

"Only because he was too cowardly to do anything about his massive crush on me."

Jaehyun snorts. "Yeah, right. We both know I'm braver than you."

You turn to face him, eyes narrowed as he steels you with his cocky gaze. "Oh yeah?" You say, eyes drifting down to his lips, curled into an attractive smirk. "Prove it."

You see the moment Jaehyun short circuits. You see it as clear as day, the way he loosens his grip and opens his mouth, but no words come out.

His mom snickers. "I think Y/n is braver, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun can only sulk as he shows you to his room.

Mrs. Jung told you to take a nap to recover from the traveling, since the actually holiday festivities don't begin until everyone arrives tomorrow. Since you and Jaehyun are early, you get the privilege of extra sleep.

Jaehyun eyes his full-sized bed from his college days. His room is now a guest room, since he hasn't lived at home in years. But it's still got traces of him in it, like the baseball trophies from college (you try not to think of Jaehyun in a baseball uniform), or his high school diploma framed over the bathroom door.

You pull back the green-striped sheets. "I am not going to disobey your mom. I'm going to sleep."

"Ditto," Jaehyun says. He heads over to the window and drops the drapes so that the room is coated in darkness despite the afternoon sun still outside. "I'll take the floor."

"Why?" You ask, and you're already burrowed under his covers in your lounge-wear.

Jaehyun's eyes drop to your thin tank top before he looks away. His ears are a suspicious shade of pink. "I mean... wouldn't it be weird to share a bed?"

"Are you going to pull a move on me while I'm trying to sleep?" Your blunt question sends Jaehyun into a fit of coughing, which causes you to laugh out loud.

He glares at you and shuffles over to the other side of his bed. "I hate you."

"You can't hate me; you're my boyfriend," you mock.

Jaehyun tackles you then, covering your body with his own as you giggle in shock. "You're so annoying. I should've taken someone else."

"Right," you fight back, grabbing his arms and pushing him up until he's just straddling your waist, holding onto your hands. "Who would you ask? Meredith, the secretary?"

"Her red hair is pretty sexy," Jaehyun says as if HES thought about it before."

"She's like, fifty," you laugh.

"Or Taeyong from high school math," Jaehyun says. "He's cute."

"Honestly? Yeah." You let go of his hands and glance up at the ceiling. "If Taeyong had asked me, this entire day would've gone so differently."

"Oh, shut up," Jaehyun grabs his pillow and gently shoves you with it. "You can't even look him in the eyes."

"Neither can you!" You protest, voice muffled beneath his pillow.

"It's not my fault he's cute!"

"It's not my fault either!"

Jaehyun lifts the pillow and raises his eyebrows at you, causing you to laugh.

"Are we arguing over Taeyong from high school math?"

"Who doesn't even know we exist?" Jaehyun answers. "Yes, I do believe we are."

"You're heavy," you grunt. You attempt to push Jaehyun off of you, but in seeing your discomfort, it only spurs him to place his full dead weight on top of you.

"Goodnight," he says, voice right beside your ear.

You know he's teasing you, because the two of you are pretty close and it's not weird. Still, you can't help but like the feeling of him being so close to you, even if it isn't as intimate as you'd like.

You sigh; give up. "Goodnight, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun's family is wild. His uncle (from England, apparently) brings stories about his weekly bar crawls. He also brings Christmas crackers, and you and Jaehyun steal a few extra when no one is looking, if just to get a few extra goodies.

And so explains the paper crown atop Jaehyun's head, nestled within his chocolate curls.

He looks adorable as always, but more radiantly so, and you wonder if it's his family that brings this out in him, or the mulled wine.

I want to kiss him, you think, and it's not the thought that scares you. He's an attractive man, and it's been bound to cross your every now and again.

What scares you is the thought that comes after. I could fall in love with him.

And you really aren't sure if it's the wine in your own belly, or the disorienting sound of Mrs. Jung's staticky radio, playing a distorted version of Santa Claus is Coming to Town.

However, Jaehyun has been holding your hand the entire day, absentminded rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. It shouldn't make your heart beat faster because it's all a show, but you find yourself playing into the facade, if just to make it last a little longer.

Jaehyun and you are sharing an armchair while the children beg the adults to let them open their gifts already. You've got your head on Jaehyun's chest, and he's covering you with a gaudy reindeer-themed blanket.

It's then when the door opens, and a woman and man walk in, the man holding a baby in his arms.

"Jina!" Jaehyun shouts. "Henry! Erin!" Then he whispers to you. "That's my sister and her husband. And their little baby," he says softly.

Erin is around one or two years old, and she seems in good spirits despite the bow tightly clipped to what little hair she has.

You get up so Jaehyun can hug his sister, and when she sees you, she gives you a hug as well. "You're the Y/n Jaehyun has told me so much about."

Jaehyun's ears go red again, and he ignores Jina's statement in lue of showing her to the presents around the tree. "Thank God you're finally here. I think the kids were going to riot if they couldn't open any presents yet."

Jaehyun settles back down with you, and you remind yourself to ask him why his family seem to already know about you.

But then the kids open whoopee cushions from Uncle Jaehyun, and all is forgotten as they begin to force everyone to sit on top of them.

Jaehyun truly thinks he's going to go insane. In retrospect, perhaps asking the person he's had a year-long crush on to be his fake date wasn't the best idea, but it was his only option.

And now he likes you even more, as you make an effort to get to know his family.

You don't have to, but you're wearing the sweater his mom bought for you, and you've got a stupid paper crown on your head that perfectly matches his.

And when Jaehyun rounds the counter to make some hit chocolate for the two of you, he watches you approach his brother-in-law and ask to hold baby Erin.

And now Jaehyun is truly going crazy, because you've got a baby on your hip and you're dancing to the staticky radio, singing in goofy voices with Jaehyun's younger cousins.

And he knows, knows he's in love with you.

He hopes to God this isn't a one time thing.

Your head feels a bit fuzzy when everyone is sent off to bed.

Jaehyun grabs your hand and pulls you into his room. "Come on. Anyone who survives a day with my family deserves a prize."

You're not sure where he had hidden it, but Jaehyun grabs a small wrapped box and hands it to you. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," you say, a bit distracted as you open it.

Inside, it's a small charm bracelet. The charm? Mistletoe.

You snort, and pull the bracelet over your wrist. "How subtle, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun's ears are red again. "Actually, I was just teaching my kids about mistletoe. The druids believed it had healing properties, and could bring the holder good luck—"

You wrap your arms around Jaehyun's shoulders and lift your hand above his head. You kiss Jaehyun before he's finished talking.

He gasps against your lips in such an innocent way that you have to wonder if he actually didn't mean to give it to you as incentive. Before you can worry, however, he's got his hands bunched in the sweater his mother bought you, and he's pulling you flush against his body.

His lips are soft and warm, and they taste like cinnamon. Every touch he gives you sends a lick of fire across your skin, and it's only when Jaehyun puts his hands beneath your sweater that you realize just how cold his hands are.

You shiver against him. He nips at your lips, smiling at your offended gasp. He moves away, places one kiss atop your forehead, and then presses his forehead to yours. "I didn't give you the mistletoe so you would kiss me, but I'm glad you did."

"Me too," you say, warmth flooding your chest again. "Now, how about you explain to me why your family keeps saying you've talked about me before."

"Actually," Jaehyun moves away from you. "I'm pretty tired, so we should just get to bed."

You tackle him again, laughing with mirth when he catches you and hugs you close to him. "I've liked you for awhile, okay?" he says.

"Now was that so hard to say?" you tease, just before receiving another pillow to your face.

#nct au #nct fluff #nct angst #nct scenarios #nct scenario #jaehyun au #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jaehyun scenario #jaehyun scenarios #destwrites

761 notes · View notes

jehaatiade · 4 years

Note

:,) a humble ask for hc’s for Din, Ezra, and Javier admitting they love you in an angsty situation :,)

This took me hours but it came together so well! Thank you for the wonderful prompt!

Din:

he has mixed feelings about taking you along on bounties. you’re the rare combination of a talented bounty hunter and a person who’s never tried to cheat him.

but on the other hand… the possibility of coming back from a hunt without you makes something deep in his chest ache.

you make him laugh. you like him, but you’ve never pushed him to take off his helmet. you make the Razor Crest and the flight time between planets seem more alive.

he’s kissed you. more than once. but only as a Mandalorian, the cold beskar of his helmet against your forehead. he doesn’t know if you understand what that means.

the two of you are on a nameless dump of a moon where the grey salt flats are studded with wreckage from a space battle, tracking a pirate with a hefty bounty on his head, when it happens.

you get a single glimpse of the pirate before there’s a hail of blaster bolts headed in your direction. you both take cover, and the Mando uses terse field signs to lay out his plan: you go right and flush him out. i’ll go left and take him down.

the plan does not come together nicely. in fact, the plan does not come together at all.

the mark is harder to scare than you expected, and by the time you’re in range to force him out from behind his cover, you’re close enough that he can grab you.

it’s a little embarrassing, honestly. you haven’t been in a choke-hold with a blaster to your head since you were sixteen and stupid.

“Let her go,” the Mando says. despite the anger in his tone, his voice is even and his aim doesn’t waver. you’ve admired that rifle since the first time you saw it: the faint iridescence of its prongs, the elegant curve of its stock, the meticulous modifications to its forestock. you’ve never had it pointed at you before.

“Of course, my friend,” the pirate says. “Because I have survived this long by being incredibly foolish. No, she is coming with me. If you ask nicely, I may even leave her in one piece once I reach my ship. If you try to interfere…”

he makes a nonchalant who knows? gesture, and for a second the barrel of his blaster isn’t pressed against your head.

you haven’t been sixteen and stupid for a long time. the heel of your boot comes down on his instep with as much force as you can muster, and when his hold weakens, you drive your elbow back into his nose.

the pirate crumples into a groaning heap at your feet. the Mando lowers his rifle. you make a show of dusting off your hands, because no one has ever accused you of lacking a sense of drama.

it looks like the Mando wants to say something - you can see it in his posture - but he doesn’t, so you fill the silence. “Don’t tell me you were worried, Mando,” you tease. “Like you’d miss me bouncing around the Crest’s cargo hold making a mess every time we go somewhere. You just love having me around.”

you’re not expecting him to reply, so you take the binders off your belt and bend to cuff the pirate. when you straighten, the Mando is right next to you.

“Yes,” he says. “I was worried. Yes, I would miss you. Yes. I love you.”

for once, you’re speechless, so you just watch your smile grow in the reflection of his visor. then you lean just a little bit forward, closing the gap and pressing your forehead to his.

(and then the pirate at your feet snickers, and you kick him in the ribs.)

Ezra:

taking this job has been one of your worst decisions to date. and of course, you did it because Ezra talked you into it.

“An absolutely unprecedented adventure, little bird!” he’d said. “A moon still molten from the fires of creation, spitting up gems like a baby with a colic? The harvest will be unparalleled; with the right gear, we will stroll through the lava fields collecting Niobe’s roses as easily as if we were berry-picking.”

it is, of course, not that easy.

calling the Red Moon molten is not an affectation; its broken crust oozes lava like a slow-clotting cut. you’re here for rhodoniobium, beautiful silver blooms that appear on the surface of the lava flows. it isn’t difficult to use the nets and poles to retrieve Niobe’s roses. what’s hard is staying alive while you do it. miners die in ugly ways every single day, and they’re rarely mourned.

liquid water is a thing of fantasy down here, for the most part, and everyone is forced to return to the base camp at Kīpuka when they run out. that’s where the two or you are headed when you get separated.

you’ve been examining plutonic rock formations since you arrived, looking for evidence of pegmatite mineral inclusions: rubies, sapphires, emeralds and other beryl gems. sure, they don’t sell for as much as Niobe’s roses, but you’ve never been able to resist sparklies.

Ezra usually indulges you, but in this case, he’s been looking forward to a bath for two weeks. so when you stop to chip a sample from a smooth dome of granite, he keeps walking. you don’t think anything of it, figuring you’ll catch up to him, until a sharp “Shit!” comes through over the comm.

“Are you all right?” you ask, quickly starting to pack up your tools.

“Hardly the finest way to introduce oneself, taking pot-shots at innocent passersby,” Ezra says, his voice fuzzy with distance. “If you have had your entertainment, I would be much gratified to be permitted to pass.”

you abandon your tools and set out after him at a run as a much younger man says “This is our gorge, and if you want to pass through to Kīpuka, then you’re going to have to pay our toll.”

“I am always enthusiastic to participate in the civil preservation of infrastructure, have no doubt,” Ezra assures the men who you suspect are holding him under rails. “My partner is a ways behind, and she is carrying our meager pickings. You’ll allow me to contact her and request her presence?”

a grunt of agreement, and a short pause, before Ezra’s voice comes through more clearly on your private channel. “May I assume you’ve been listening, little bird?”

“Yeah,” you pant. your lungs are starting to burn, and you’d be tempted to throw off your heavy insulating gear if you didn’t know that the average air temperature around here is high enough to bake bread. “How many?”

“Four. Alas, more than I feel confident dispatching alone.”

“Almost there. I’ll come in over the ridge. Be ready to draw.”

“I always am.” there’s a pause, and at first you think he’s finished. then your comm crackles again. “If this goes wrong, little bird-”

“Don’t,” you say, because it feels like bad luck.

“I love you. Most ardently. If I die here, then I die happy to have known you.”

the only thing you can say is “Damn it, Ezra.” because you can’t wipe the tears from your eyes, and that’s going to make shooting these bastards just that little bit more difficult. he laughs softly, and clicks back to the public channel.

Ezra chats away with the bandits, distracting them with that awful anecdote about the channelrats while you close the last small distance to the ridge above the gorge. you crawl to the edge, thrower rifle cradled in your arms, and take a sniper’s position.

“I’m almost there,” you say over the public channel. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course, little bird.” You can’t see Ezra’s smile, but you can hear it in his voice. He’s ready.

it goes very quickly, as most gunfights do: you push a stone over the edge to start a small rockslide, the bandits turn toward the noise, and you shoot the two men lounging in the shade while Ezra shoots the two standing in front of him.

“Ezra? You know what?” you ask once the bodies have hit the ground.

“What?”

“In spite of the fact that you have damned awful timing, I love you, too.”

Javi:

as Javier yells at you, you wonder idly if Murphy can hear you upstairs. “You could’ve been killed!”

“Just because you couldn’t have made it out of there, doesn’t mean I couldn’t!”

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he hisses, stepping closer.

you shove him back. “It mean you strut around Colombia flashing your badge and shooting sicarios like that’s what you get paid for! You’ve got Kiki Camarena keeping you safe. You know what I’ve got? A fucking press pass! If my cover’s blown, I get auctioned to the highest bidder and tortured to death!”

“Which is exactly why you should know better than to go sniffing around Escobar’s planes!”

“I don’t tell you how to do your goddamned job, Javi! Don’t you try and tell me how to do mine!”

Javi snarls and digs the packet of cigarettes out of his breast pocket, tossing it carelessly on the couch once he extracts one.

“You’re upset because I could’ve died?” you ask derisively as he lights his cigarette. “Let me tell you something. You, breaking in guns drawn because you think you’re rescuing me, are a lot more likely to get me killed than any mistake I could make.”

“Shut up,” he growls. he won’t look at you as you move closer.

“What is your problem? If this is still about those papers on the guerrillas-”

he shakes his head and turns away. you fucking hate it when he does this, pulling away from an argument rather than just fighting it through to the end.

“Then what?” you demand. if he’s going to disengage, then maybe you need to hit the right buttons to make him change his mind. “Don’t tell me you’re pissed off because you’ve finally realized I really am a better operator than you-”

“Because I love you!”

Javi’s outburst startles you, and you take a step back without thinking about it. he sighs, the tense lines of his shoulders going lax, and turns to face you again.

“Because I love you,” he says more softly. “Because I don’t know what to do without you any more, and that scares me more than any narco son of a bitch. Because I can’t even imagine what I would do if you were killed. Just the thought makes me feel sick.”

“Javi…” you whisper.

he shakes his head to stop you. “You want to know why, every time you come here, I ask you how your articles are doing? It’s because I have this-” he huffs out a helpless laugh. “- idiotic, ridiculous fantasy that one day, you’ll do so well that you’ll leave the agency and actually be a journalist for a living. And you’ll come and live with me, and I won’t have to wonder if you’re dead every time you go longer than a week between calling me.”

“Javi,” you say again. when you take the cigarette from his loose grasp to put it down in the ashtray, he raises his hand to rub his knuckles against his eyes. “You’re right. Part of your fantasy is ridiculous.”

“Only part, huh?” he doesn’t quite manage to make his sarcastic smile look sincere.

“Yeah. The part where you don’t seem to realize that all you have to do is ask.” you cup the strong angle of his jaw and lean in, almost nose to nose. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Why would you want to stay with me?” he asks. “I’m an asshole. I work too much. I’d just make you sick of me.”

“Because I love you,” you say, and kiss him.

#the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian #narcos fanfic #javier pena #ezra #din djarin #rzrcrst #jehaatific

246 notes · View notes

hollenka99 · 4 years

Text

Henrik and Joline

Summary: Henrik and Joline spent many nights under the stars.

Warnings: Referenced death/infant death

After playing SoulScape last weekend, I really wanted to write something based on it. Please check out @power-of-friends-games on GameJolt because their games are really cool.

The night had been like any other. After clocking out, Henrik had walked down the road to his usual stargazing spot. Before long, he'd located both Hercules and Ophiuchus. It was as blissful as ever. Nothing could distract him from his time here, not even the sound of cars passing by. Or so he believed. "Excuse me. Do you mind if I join you?" Shooting upright in alarm, he momentarily forgets himself as their eyes meet. Oh. Well, he hadn't expected for her to look like that. While he can't see her eyes properly in this light, the waves in her hair are like the sea gently lapping along a beach. That three quarter length skirt she was wearing looked pretty on her as well. In years to come, he will swear this was the very moment he fell for her. "Oh, well sit, sit!" "Thanks." She drops down next to him. With a hand extended, she says "I'm Joline." "Henrik." They smile at each other as he returns the handshake. The two of them spend the night chatting and admiring the night sky. With no effort at all, 10 minutes become 100. The first time he hears her laugh, he knows he wants the chance to hear it as often as she'll allow him. And that smile... well, the sentiment remained the same. At one point, Joline begins talking about the sky, how she adores the amalgamation of swirling colours always present above. She's always had a soft spot she can't explain for the blue parts of it. He says nothing other than casual agreement. "You know, I've never seen you around. Was this your first time coming here?" "No, I am here a lot." Joline's brows furrow in thought. "Huh, that's odd. Would've thought I'd bump into you before tonight." "Well, we've met now. And I think I would like to keep meeting. What about you?" "Yeah. Yeah, I think I'd like that too." They go their separate ways soon after exchanging contact details. Henrik struggles to stop smiling slightly to himself the whole trip home. ---- Visiting their usual stargazing spot had become a practically daily affair by this point of their relationship. Henrik honestly wondered how he'd been able to be here on his own before meeting Joline. Some nights, they conversed on and off throughout their stay. Other times, silence would surround them comfortably. Tonight seemed to be one of intermittent chatter. It begins with Henrik and Joline laying on the grass. Their hands have effortlessly found each other with the sound of the breeze accompanying them. Their little contest to identify as many constellations as they could had concluded a while ago. Joline sighs contently. "I can't wait to be able to do this as a family." "That sounds lovely. I'm sure it will happen someday." "How about as soon as next year?" A beat passes. Henrik's face contorts into varying expressions before settling on amazed disbelief. Sitting up, Joline can do nothing but grin at her husband as he stares at her. "Henny, we're going to have a baby." She bursts into a fit of giggles as she falls back from the force of a body colliding into hers. Henrik seems not to take much notice of the playful warnings to be careful. Instead, he tightens his embrace. There comes a peck on her lips followed by a reminder that he loved her. It is a while before the joyful excitement dissipates enough for there to calm once more. "I didn't think anywhere else could have done this announcement justice. Just you, me and the stars above. They're responsible for bringing us together and now, well..." A few brief chuckles. "You know, you could say the stars ali-" His finger rapidly positions itself on her lips. "No, please. Being friends with Chase is bad enough. All those bad, bad jokes." The finger is gently removed. "But still, a baby." "A baby." He echoes in an exhale. "Our baby." "I can't wait." She gazes his way, grin firmly fixed on her face. He lets their eyes meet as fingers entwine. "Me neither." ---- Henrik double checks he had essential items such as his wallet and keys when Joline burst into the corridor. Odd, she'd been reading a magazine only a couple minutes ago when he kissed her goodbye. What on earth could be so urgent? "Henrik, wait." "What's wrong? I need to go to work right now. The clock is ticking." "I'm sure this is worth being a few minutes late." Joline beams as she grabs his wrist. His face lights up upon realising where his hand was being directed. Even more so when he feels the fluttering sensation she'd intended him to. If he had it his way, he'd spend all morning ensuring their daughter knew how excited they were to meet her. Joline regrettably cuts it short after a number of minutes. "Henny, you should probably leave." He grumbles. "But-" "Go! You don't want to be late for work, do you? We'll still be here when you get back." Despite the momentary reluctance at the door, Henrik begins his shift in a better mood than he was expecting. ---- It was clear Joline couldn't find comfort tonight. The larger her bump got, the more difficulty she had with finding a good position to relax in. This extended not only to their bed and sofa but also the ground at their favourite spot. Perhaps even more so. Either way, the manner she kept shifting worried him. Henrik is somewhat glad when she unexpectedly takes advantage of him lying back. "Have you ever considered a career as a pillow?" "Surprisingly, no." "Hmm. Maybe replace a couple of those ribs with whatever they stuff actual pillows with and you'd be good to go." "If you say so." He strokes the top of her head. In the night air, they revive the name discussion. For months, they'd thrown suggestions around but while a few had been decent contenders, none seemed to be quite right. There was still time, of course. However, the time that remained was growing ever shorter with each week that passed. Options such as Estelle were brought up without any real consideration. "No, I think I actually like the thought of an E name. How about... Emma? I like Emma." "Emma von Schneeplestein does sound nice." "We going with Emma?" "Hmm, maybe. Make sure we don't forget to write that down later." The two of them lie there with only the wind and the results of its influence to be heard around them. Joline drifts off with ease, head remaining on her husband's stomach. And for a good while, he doesn't dare disturb her. ---- Joline wasn't going to make it. Henrik had been there when she'd unexpectedly collapsed, doing everything he could think of to help save her in response. However, when all things were said and done, there was nothing more he could do for his beloved wife. Well, perhaps there was one thing. There was still Emma. Their little angel, as precious as she was small. If anything, Joline would want him to be with her. As if she had to ask. Their daughter shifts slightly in her incubator. Oh Emma. Don't worry, it was going to be okay. Daddy's right here and he's not going anywhere. They would go home together. Just without... without Mummy. They'd manage though. He promises he'll be there for her, regardless of the circumstance. Time slips by as he ensures his daughter knew how much he loved her, how much Joline loved her despite them never getting to truly meet. Emma becomes the sole audience to a multitude of stories featuring her parents. She learns of the day Joline had bought a light blue turtleneck to tease him, only for it to genuinely become one her favourite choices for the colder months. The anecdote revolving around how he knew he wanted to marry her is also told. Then there was obviously the time a beautiful woman had asked to sit beside him as they stargazed. They wouldn't be here today if the Mindscape hadn't been generous enough to allow their paths to coincide. As much as he wishes things could have gone differently today, at least there was one good thing coming out of it. Throughout the day, he monitors the baby's wellbeing. When his eyelids grow heavy without permission, his brain reacts by instinctively causing his head to jerk up. No, he couldn't rest yet. He needed to keep an eye on Emma. He could sleep once they were both cleared to return home. He's sure his little girl will like the crib Joline picked out. Being confused as to when he fell asleep is the least of his problems when he wakes. Emma is gone too. No, this couldn't be happening. He should have noticed the signs. Why didn't he spot the warnings? Surely this could have been prevented if he had been more observant. There must be something he'd missed due to his negligence. If only he hadn't been stupid enough to sit down and allow himself to pass out. He leaves reluctantly following several sympathetic prompts to head home. Supposedly, that was the best place for him right now, though he certainly disputes the notion. The issue is, he's not sure where he wants to end up. One thing is for sure. He doesn't want it to be home. Who would ever want their destination to be an empty house? ---- He avoids that particular spot. Their spot. It's not easy by any means. The damned place was to the side of the only road leading to the hospital. Despite every self protective effort, the day does eventually come when he finds himself standing where he'd spent countless evenings admiring the stars with his wife. Too long had he stood frozen on the other side of the road. He'd simply remained transfixed, mentally battling himself regarding whether this was a good idea. It wasn't but he doesn't believe sheer avoidance would be beneficial either. A particularly bright star catches his eye once he gains the courage to glance skyward. He knows it is most likely Venus or a similar celestial body. That doesn't prevent him from fooling himself enough to hear her voice for a short lived moment. From beyond the grave, she greets him with "Hi, Henny." And well, he supposes it was somewhat fitting she had used Venus just to say hello. Joline had been a display of utter beauty that he'd loved more than any other person in his life. As for desires? Ha! The one desire he had concerning her was to have her back by his side. Preferably with Emma in her arms. Not that he would deserve it, given how he'd betrayed their trust in failing to save them. "Good evening to you too, Joline." He brokenly mutters back. With another glance at the stars, it's almost as if she was beside him. He swears he can feel Joline sliding her fingers inbetween his and resting her head on his shoulder for a fleeting second. His fingers curl as his head leans sideways, both expecting to meet something solid. Instead all they find is air. No. No, sorry, he doesn't believe he can do this. Not tonight. Any remnants of Joline that had been anticipating his return here would have to be left disapprovingly watching him flee. ---- Henrik had travelled along this route so many times over the years it was practically second nature to him. The quantity of memories made here were innumerate. Granted, a great deal of them were filled with him and Joline not talking about much. He wouldn't take back a second of that time spent together. He certainly recalls getting through some rough shifts thanks to the promise of being able to relax with her at the end of it. A version of this location was the entry point to his worst memory. He's replayed that terrible day an unhealthy amount. Yet it was in the name of saving his son in everything but blood that he'd done it. He would force himself through it again if it could help Angus. He's so relieved the serum is being accepted by the hunter's soul. "Hellooo? Dad, are you there?" "Hmm, yes? Sorry, what did you say?" "I was just wondering what you thought about my idea. I know it's kind of a trek to get to my home from Attitude City and I should be focusing on letting the serum do its job but... I want to do this for Anti and the others. Especially after everything I did." "The party?" "Yes." "It is a great idea. I am proud of you for wanting to organise this. But let me help his friends first." "Dad, his birthday isn't until the 10th. I'm sure you'll have figured this stuff out before then." "Well, don't do anything too strenuous yet, okay? Until I am sure you are recovering, I want you to be careful." A chuckle is heard over the line. "Don't worry, Dad. I think I already feel a little better than yesterday." The call soon ends, leaving Henrik to sit in an all too familiar patch of grass. And for the first time in too long, there is no pain in coming here.

#jacksepticeye #henrik von schneeplestein #power of friends games #septiscape #soulscape #soulscape spoilers #my writing #tw death #tw infant death

13 notes · View notes

ninaoftwodads · 4 years

Note

how did you and darkwing first meet?

Oh! I love that story, it was kinda strange you know? I calle it:

Darkwing and Gosalyn First met

It was another day at the orphanage, I was in my room concentrated on my new escape plan, I smiled with satisfaction to see that it was a fail-safe plan. So I enthusiastically stood up from my bed and carefully left my room, trying not to let any of the workers see me. I smiled when I saw the corridor clear and ran out there, of course trying not to make any noise that gave me away.

But…

- Where do you think you are going kid? - They said behind me angrily and I felt them grab my sweater's hat and pull me back. - Gosalyn, not even ten minutes passed, please give me a break.- said Miss Clock as we headed to her office.

I was folding my arms and frowning. - It can't be, how come you discovered me? You have cameras right? CAN I SEE THEM?! - I said, losing a little my composure, I then clear my throat and finally walked on my own while still being held by the hand.

- It's because I know you Gosalyn. We know that you try to escape at every breakfast or lunch or dinner, do you not understand that you should stay here for your safety? You are the granddaughter of Doctor Waddlemeyer, may he rest in peace, and our full responsibility until someone adopts you. - She said as she opened the door of the office and we both got in.

I lowered my head and released my hand from hers abruptly, she looked at me surprised. -I don't want another family, I want my parents. - I said in a rough way and quickly wiped my eyes from the tears that threatened to come out.

Mrs. Clock sighed and just left, then locked the office door, that was the punishment for trying to escape. I was used to it enough so I just sat down and saw the clock in front of me. The memories of my parents, my grandparent and I entered my mind, how happy and calm we were. Everything went down the drain after the accident that killed my parents, no one would have seen it coming, my custody passed to my grandfather who after 5 years died in another accident in his laboratory. Although I inherited all his fortune I will not be able to have it until I come of age, and many of his enemies look for me because I have one or two knowledge of his most important projects. The St. Canard orphanage welcomed me and Mrs. Clock has tried to give me a new life with a lot of families, but honestly I don’t want a new family, I want my parents, my grandfather, I want to be free to choose and be worth Outside myself, I don't need anyone.

I do not need anyone…

I-

- Gosalyn, wake up. I will take you to your room, it’s time to sleep.- I woke up surprised and a little upset, but I calmed down when I saw miss chicken. I yawned and stretched out looking at the time, 7pm.

Mrs. Clock walked me to my room and, after getting in, locked it. I sighed and my body just gave up, I was tired already. I would never leave that place and could never have a family again, I closed my eyes immersing myself in the night sounds of the orphanage and the city. And when I was about to fall into Morpheus' arms, a strong blow shook the ground and broke my wall. I looked confused at the situation and saw how a large Bull entered inspecting my room until his gaze fell on me. A chill ran down my spine as he approached me with an exaggerated and evil smile.

- Oh. Finally I find you little girl, you do not know how many problems you have put us hiding in a place as unclean as this. - He said with a grunt and a disgusted expression as he looked at the room again, but immediately returned to that smile that tried to go unnoticed by kindness. But I am not that stupid. - Where are my manners? Let me introduce myself. I am Taurus Bulba, an old acquaintance of your grandfather and I need your help for a project in which I work.- he said, holding my hand tightly, I complained and released myself with all the forces I could and then kicked him in his big nose that disoriented him.

- Sorry, but you just got an exit ticket for this "little girl".- I said with enthusiasm and a sly smile and then ran out of the big hole in the wall.

I heard the scream of rage from that man as he ran through the orphanage courtyard to the gate, with my barely trained parkour skills I jumped the gate and ran down the street free and happy. I would not return to the orphanage, I would not bear the responsibility of my grandfather, I would finally be free!

Of course, that lasted a few minutes before noticing how a black car was following me at high speed, the name of that man was engraved on the plates; So, I ran faster, as fast as my already worn tennis shoes would allow me. Panic seized me more and more when I saw that car approach, I was about to scream when I saw a big hand come out of one of the windows. But suddenly a loud motorcycle sound distracted us both. From one of the buildings came a red motorcycle with purple accents. A man with a hat and cape was riding on it and quickly grabbed my arm and took me with him in the motorcycle. I was scared and listened as the car followed us and the guy in the suit (who now I notice is purple) tried to lose them between the streets of Duckburg, and it only took a second for us to enter a dark place and the door closed quickly, then listen to that car go by and walk away. I sighed in relief, but immediately hit the guy in purple and walked away while my eyes slowly grew accustomed to the dark.

The man took the place I hit hard.

- Wow, girl.- he said breathlessly. - You hit hard.- he said, sighing, then regaining his composure and standing up straight.

- Who are you and what do you want from me? - I demanded even with my fists raised, I was scared but I wouldn't show it.

- I-I… - he cleared his throat.- I'm the terror that flaps in the Night! I am the one who will rescue you from any danger. I am Darkwing Duck! - He said enthusiastically and in a rougher voice than before. I looked at him incredulous and somewhat confused.

- Never heard of him.- I said and the guy's smile and posture loosened and gave way to a slightly more painful image of him

- Sigh. I understand you, nobody knows me. But I am here to help you! I knew of the attack to the orphanage but I was a little late. I'm sorry about that.- he said sadly. I giggled and I relaxed a little. He didn't really look like a bad guy and technically he had saved me from that other man.

- I'm Gosalyn, Gosalyn Waddlemeyer.- I said giving him a hand. I saw how he smiled and accepted my greeting.

- I know. But it is a pleasure to meet you Gosalyn.- he said and then returned to his heroic pose. - Now, I need to take you to my den to keep you safe, or maybe I can ask him for help and take care of you in what I take care of this.- he said, deep in thought and looking at the motorcycle. - Well, technically his place is my den.-

- Him? What are you talking about? - I looked at him confused and he smiled at me nervously.

- Fear not, little one! Darkwing will take you to a very safe place when it comes to dealing with bad boys! - He said selfishly, then took me and put on a helmet, we both got on the bike and the door opened, leaving us free passage to head to our destination.

- And why the helmet? - I said a little annoyed by the discomfort of it.

- To keep you safe of course.- he said with a smile that made my heart warm. It was a strange feeling of protection that Darkwing provoked in me and made me remember my dad.

We were wandering around the city a few minutes before entering a somewhat unnoticed tunnel that led us right out of the entrance to the McDuck mansion. I stared in amazement at the place and was confused to see how we passed from the main house to the back of it, finding a huge garage and a big red plane. Darkwing stopped at the open entrance to the garage and got off the bike and then helped me get down, I took off my helmet and saw the purple guy screaming over and over again trying to call someone. I look at the place fascinated, there were a lot of old things and some other plane material. I followed Darkwing to a door that he opened without care and I looked confused at the decoration of that place, literally everything was full of merchandise of this type. It seemed quite strange to me to say the truth, this person was a huge fan of himself or had a very rare fetish.

I felt someone touch my shoulder and I kicked them in the leg because of the scare and I ran hiding behind Darkwing.

- Auh. DW, why didn't you tell me that girl hits hard? - Said a tall guy with very broad shoulders. He seemed kind to tell the truth and knew Darkwing.

- Sorry, LP. I was distracted, but you shouldn't have scared her like that either.- he said with a chuckle at the end of his sentence. The big man sat on the couch still rubbing at my blow as he looked at Darkwing.

- So she is the girl you told me about? - He said looking at me with surprise and then smiling and greeting me. I returned the smile and approached him slowly.

- Yep. Her name is Gosalyn Waddlemeyer.- said my eldest.

- Hello, sorry for the kick amm ... -

- McQuack, Launchpad. Launchpad McQuack.- he said with a giggle. We greeted each other and then I sat next to him.

- Is the outside plane yours? - I said enthusiastically.

Darkwing left after a while, while Launchpad and I talked. He told me about the incredible adventures he had with the McDuck family. He also told me how he met Darkwing Duck and all the adventures and missions they had done together. You could tell they were very close.

I also told him a few anecdotes of mine, my life in the orphanage and how I wanted to escape and have my own life.

- But don't you want a family? - Launchpad asked me a bit confused. I looked down and made a gesture with my shoulders.

- I don't think I need it, I don't want to have one. It will make me feel ... as if I were replacing my parents.- I said hiding in my legs, Launchpad put a hand on my back and smiled at me.

- Something I have learned with the McDuck family is that family is the most important thing to a person. Perhaps you can no longer see yours, but you must give yourself the opportunity to love and be loved by someone who wants to take care of you and protect you. - He said trying to cheer me up. I immediately thought of Darkwing and smiled.

- I think you're right. Thanks, Launchpad.- I said and hugged him, he replied with a smile.

- Do you want to go flying? - He said nervously. I parted with bright eyes and a smile.

- De una. -

We left the garage in a slightly smaller plane and in the shape of Darkwing, Launchpad told me that he and DW built it and only used it in special missions. I looked out the window fascinated, the city was big and seeing so many lights in the night after so long amazed me. We were both having fun and that same feeling I had with Darkwing was with Launchpad. Everything was fine until we felt the plane shake, a screen showed how something was holding us from behind, they were some kind of giant clamps. Another one of those things grabbed the front and we felt a sudden pull up, Launchpad stood up from his seat and hugged me tightly to protect me.

The entrance to the ship opened, revealing the man from before. I looked at him fearfully and he snatched me from Launchpad's arms.

- You caused me a lot of trouble, little girl.- he said, and then covered my mouth and nose with a rag, I tried to fight to free myself, but gradually I closed my eyes while watching Launchpad being captured.

Everything turned black to me.

When I opened my eyes again I was tied to an antenna of a very high building, that bull looked at the door with a smile and Darkwing came out.

- Darkwing! - I cried excited to see him. He looked at me with fear and then returned a look full of fury at the other man.

- Give me back the girl Bulba, she won't say anything. Surely she doesn't even have knowledge of your machine! - Darckwing said.

- Ah, but it will. She is my key to finally, after several years, conquer Duckburg and the world!!! - he said in a crazy way and then returned to his posture.

I tried to free myself, I had been in the JW's before my grandfather died. So I learned how to untie ropes, I let go and when I turned my sight to that bull, he was about to attack Darkwing, I jumped on his back and grabbed him by the horns pulling him back. I punched him in the eyes and on the face.

- Don’t. Mess. With. Him!- I said between blows, but he grabbed me by the sweater and before I could react he threw me through the ceiling without thinking.

I heard Darkwing's scream as he released me into the void. I screamed and asked for help when I fell, I saw my life go by and I couldn't stop the tears from coming out of my eyes as I remembered my parents, my grandfather, Miss Clock, even Darkwing and Launchpad who made me feel again at home. I almost reached the ground when I felt someone grab me by the waist and climb me to a solid place, but at the same time in movement. I was still in the arms of my hero and when I opened them I saw Launchpad with a worried smile.

- Hello, Gos. How are you? Are you alright? - I smiled at him and hugged him with euphoria. I thanked him so much for rescuing me and watched as we headed back to the roof of that building. - Now, to help Darkwing Duck! -

- Let's get dangerous.- we say at the same time and Launchpad looked at me with emotion, I just smiled nervously.

Once we arrived we saw Darkwing on the ground, Launchpad opened the capsule and we both greeted him. He smiled at us and with difficulty but a determined smile, gave the final blow that knocked out that bull. I got off the plane and hugged Dakwing, I was glad to see him well and to know that I hadn't lost him yet.

- Thanks for staying here, Darkwing.- I said, hiding my face in his suit. He reciprocated my hug.

- Oh, Gos. I will never go anywhere. - he said with affection. Launchpad joined our hug after a few minutes.

(…)

And that’s basically the story of how Darkwing and I met. After that it took a couple days to Drake to finally adopt me. And a couple weeks to get him confessed to Launchpad. Xd

#ask gosalyn!#ducktales gosalyn #gosalyn mallard #drakepad #launchpad mcquack #darkwing duck #drake mallard #gosalyn waddlemeyer #ducktales ask #ducktales 2017 #ducktales

20 notes · View notes