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#i mean it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest bc they were so close
ticklishfiend · 1 year
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okay here are my lee!jesse headcanons bc i cannot get it out of my head
- this man is a KICKER. tickle him even the slightest bit and he will crumble to the floor just so he can try and kick you from below
- his neck is SUCH a bad spot on him omg. jane has always been one to kiss/bite at peoples necks in bed, but he literally cant take it and she thinks it’s precious. the first time she did it, he like violently snickered and jerked his head so hard he accidentally head butted her lol. after that she absolutely assaulted him with ticklish neck kisses and nibbles because his giggles and pleas were too cute not to
- jane loved to tickle jesse any chance she could. if she woke up before him? side squeezes are his new alarm clock. just chilling together on the couch? perfect time for a surprise tickle attack. and he never properly fought her off either, just kinda pulled at her wrists a bit with his head thrown back and jerking side to side in cackles. oh, and the kicks of course. he never kicked her, but he’s always kicking BEHIND her when she’s tickling him. feet banging on the floor kinda deal.
- his laugh has variety to say the least. he usually starts out really loud and boisterous and from the belly, before going kinda screamy and shrill, and after a while he just goes full squeals and giggles. he’s soooo embarrassed when he gets to the giggle-stage. this boy loves acting tough but give the bottom of his ribs some good tweaks for a while and he’s just gone full bubbly laughter.
- when he started seeing andrea, he definitely took on a more ler role. giving her little pokes when he’s teasing her, sometimes going full tickle monster when she says something snarky. that doesn’t mean andrea doesn’t tickle him back tho, because when she realized just HOW ticklish he was, he never lived it down
- andrea and brock have 100% ganged up on him before. there’s a scene where jesse tickles brock for like a split second when they’re playing mario kart, so i know he’s definitely gotten brock before when play fighting and roughhousing. so one time after finishing up playing tickle monster with the kid, he realizes andrea was watching, and she’s just got this look on her face. then she’s like “brock, u know jesse’s super ticklish right? oh he didn’t tell u?” and brock’s like 😮 before turning to jesse and just launching on top, andrea close behind to help out cause she’s very familiar with all the best spots. jesse doesn’t fight back even a little, he’s having so much fun with the two of them, even if it costs him just a smidgen of his dignity
- badger and skinny pete have wrecked his shit before. those two are idiots who are constantly stoned out of their mind, so finding out that their best friend is ridiculously ticklish was incredibly interesting information to them. jesse was like a tornado trying to fight them off but the two of them together just inevitably had more strength than the ticklish 5’8 lil freak, especially once they started squeezing at his sides and belly at the same time cause he just lost all motor function and curled up in a cackling, kicking ball on the floor.
- badger loves tickling jesse the most, he thinks it’s fucking hilarious. skinny pete usually just sits there and chuckles along, making comments like “damn how are u a grown ass man and ur still this ticklish?” “yo my cousin tried tickling me one time as a kid, and i elbowed her so hard she lost a fuckin tooth.” but that’s besides the point. sometimes badger will just be in one of his lil rambling episodes, talking about god knows what, and literally while talking will just reach over and start squeezing up and down jessie’s torso til he falls over. badger literally pretends like he’s not even tickling him, just continuing telling his story to pete while jesse is a hysterical fucking mess right beside him.
okay it’s 3am and i’m too tired to continue this but i might continue with more cause i want to tickle jesse Myself but if i can’t have that this is the next best thing
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adorascake · 3 years
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thinking about that very lovely, very gay scene where catra’s sitting in adora’s lap all “yeah, adora, concentrate” and how she teases adora with her tail and adora’s just unfazed and pushes it to the side which most likely means catra did shit like that growing up to distract adora
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1kook · 3 years
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crunchyroll & rail
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the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !
SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k
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NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….
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Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast. 
Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.  
In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office. 
To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5. 
He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”
Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses. 
Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful. 
You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.” 
Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.” 
“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.” 
It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking. 
You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever. 
And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours. 
Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together. 
(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.) 
Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be. 
You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you. 
Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber. 
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Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend. 
The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary. 
You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days. 
But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.  
(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.) 
The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like. 
According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites. 
You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?” 
You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.” 
You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind. 
Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”
For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into. 
“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway. 
He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin. 
“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear. 
“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass. 
You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you. 
The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.
The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak. 
Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead. 
And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat. 
Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts. 
They go like this: 
Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really. 
“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively. 
In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once. 
“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you. 
It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome. 
Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve. 
The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek. 
His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts. 
“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.” 
He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles. 
The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild. 
“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums. 
“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again. 
But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning. 
Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.” 
Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“
“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment. 
“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“ 
“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him. 
His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned. 
There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.” 
Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.” 
Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.” 
A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.” 
You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“— 
The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear. 
“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.
Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer. 
Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”
He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”
“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”
It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole. 
“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.
Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips. 
“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise. 
He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath. 
Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.
“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. 
It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue. 
It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger.  “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…” 
You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?” 
He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles. 
“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over. 
Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”
The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.
It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more. 
Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them. 
You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub. 
Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor. 
Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face. 
In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention. 
Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?
“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock. 
“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand. 
His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane. 
It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh. 
Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be. 
You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds. 
With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter. 
You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic. 
“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock. 
He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you. 
Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip. 
You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl. 
It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”
You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully. 
Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?
Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.
“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.
Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”
“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin. 
Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said. 
It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away. 
Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself. 
“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“
“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself. 
You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you. 
He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”
Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”
You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once. 
“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.
He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth. 
“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets. 
True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever. 
You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries. 
It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”
“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you. 
Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”
Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question. 
That’s how you know he’s a keeper.
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It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest. 
“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”
Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”
You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”
A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.
You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.
Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”
Definitely Namjoon.
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Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.
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stutterfly · 3 years
Text
Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)
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Rating: M (Explicit 18+)
Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship
Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader
Word Count: 15.1K
Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.
CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook
Series: Activate your SIMCard
Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)
Do not repost.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.
At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.
While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.
It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.
You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.
You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.
Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.
Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.
Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.
You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.
You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?
When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.
[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]
How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.
You: I told you not to fucking find me on here
It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.
Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you
Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me
You: Don’t worry I’m gonna
Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh
You: ???
Jungkook: Your legs
Jungkook: Like oreos
Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜
Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.
You: I wish I could unread 🤢
Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites
Jungkook: Just like you 😘
You: 🙄
You: I hate you so much
Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?
You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.
Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀
You: It means I’m tired
Jungkook: Of?
You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.
Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?
Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴
Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.
You: You know what? I want you
FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.
You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.
Jungkook: 😈
Jungkook: My place
Jungkook: Ten minutes
You: *to stay off my profile
Jungkook: 👉👌?
You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT
You: 🤢🤢🤢
Jungkook: 😩
Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess
Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴
You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego
Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here
He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.
Jungkook: Hey quick question
Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻
Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.
There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?
You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?
Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.
You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.
The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.
He forgot.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.
It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.
“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”
“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”
“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.
As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.
“What happened? Did he hurt you?”
“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.
“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.
You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”
“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”
Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.
Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.
He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.
With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.
Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.
“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.
You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?
You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."
“What?"
“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”
You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.
“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”
Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.
“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”
Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?
“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”
Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”
“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."
As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.
Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.
You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.
"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”
“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.
“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”
Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?
“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”
“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.”
“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”
Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?
“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”
“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”
“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”
“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”
“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.
“Zip up your hoodie.”
You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.
Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.
“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”
Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”
Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”
Even he knows that argument is flimsy.
“Guk.”
“It was always just a joke.”
“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”
Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.
Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.
Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”
“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”
“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”
Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.
Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”
Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”
“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”
“Yeah.”
“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”
“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.
"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"
The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.
"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."
You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”
Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"
Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.
After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.
"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.
He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”
“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.
“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”
“But—”
“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”
“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.
Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.
You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”
“Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”
In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”
“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”
“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.
“With beef,” he agrees.
“Gyoza?”
“Mhm.”
“And takoyaki?”
“...You’re pushing it.”
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”
He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”
“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.
“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”
“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.
"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"
You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.
"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.
Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?
“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.
Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.
“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.
“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.
"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”
He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.
“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.
The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”
“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”
Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”
“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”
He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.
He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”
Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.
“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.
“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”
“What? When?”
“The other day. We hung out.”
He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.
“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”
Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”
“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”
“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.
“You guys talked about me?”
“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.
Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”
“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”
“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”
“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”
You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”
“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”
You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”
Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”
“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”
“Y/N.”
“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”
“We allowed to talk about Jason?”
“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”
He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”
“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. “Good vibes only.”
“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”
You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.
You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”
He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”
You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.
“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”
His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.
“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”
He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.
“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”
“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”
“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”
“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”
“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.
If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.
“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”
He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.
NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to
JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry
JUNGKOOK: I got u
Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.
“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.
“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”
“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”
Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”
He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.
“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”
Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?
“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.
Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.
As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.
You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.
It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.
He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.
When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”
He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.
“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”
You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”
He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”
Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.
“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.
Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.
“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.
The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.
The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"
"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.
You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.
Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.
"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"
He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.
The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"
His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"
You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."
He nods. "Mm. We can split it."
"Um, how about... tempura?"
"Banana?"
Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.
The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."
The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.
“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."
"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.
He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."
“Oh, really?”
You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.
“I’ve been a dick.”
“No shit.”
Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”
How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.
“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”
“You don’t say.”
That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.
“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”
“Well, you did,” you mumble.
“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?
“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”
Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”
It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.
He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”
“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”
“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”
“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.
“For real.”
You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”
He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.
“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”
You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”
Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”
You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”
He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”
Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”
He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”
“I want that in writing,” you snort.
Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”
“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”
“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.
You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.
Princess
I’m sorry. I can make it right.
I promise. Please give me another chance.
If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.
As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook
Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.
“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”
His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.
“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”
He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.
“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.
“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.
“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.
Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”
Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”
“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”
Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”
“Joonie—”
“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”
“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”
As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.
Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”
“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”
The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.
Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”
The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.
“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.
Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.
“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.
Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”
Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.
A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”
Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.
A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?
His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.
You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.
He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.
It’s also kind of cute.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.
After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.
It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.
Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.
As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.
“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.
“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.
He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”
“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.
Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.
“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.
Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.
“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.
“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”
“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”
“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.
“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.
His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.
“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.
“Like, full body?”
“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”
“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.
“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.
“Which one?”
The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.
“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”
You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.
“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.
“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because?”
“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”
“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”
“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.
He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”
He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”
“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”
The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”
He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”
You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”
“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”
“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”
“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.
He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”
“Really.”
You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.
“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”
The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?
“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”
“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.
“I hear a pop.”
“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.
“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”
“Oh no. Knees?”
“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”
His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”
“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”
“Uhh…”
“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”
“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”
He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”
You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?
“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”
The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.
“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.
“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”
“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”
His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”
As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.
Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.
It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.
Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.
“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”
“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.
Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”
You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?
Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.
You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.
Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.
Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.
Y/N.exe has stopped working.
Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.
“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”
Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”
“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.
“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.
“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.
“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”
He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”
You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.
“I think… A lot.”
“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.
Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.
Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.
“So…” he begins.
You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.
“I was thinking. About that guy…”
You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.
“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“
Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?
“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.
“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.
It's cry hours, isn’t it?
Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”
“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.
“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”
It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?
‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.
“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”
He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”
If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.
“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”
His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”
A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.
Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.
"It's late. I should sleep."
Or masturbate.
The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.
"Whoa. You okay?"
"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."
"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"
"Just wanna stop spinning."
His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.
"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."
"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.
“You gonna make it there?”
“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.
"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.
Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.
“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.
You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.
He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.
“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.
While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.
Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.
You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.
Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.
"Princess?"
Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.
You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.
Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?
Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.
But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.
The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.
“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.
He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.
Oh shit.
You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok’s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.
“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.
The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”
You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?
Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.
Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.
Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."
Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"
As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?
He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.
“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.
You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”
He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”
“‘Night,” you mumble.
As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.
The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.
⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰
Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.
He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.
Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.
He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.
Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.
He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.
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wearywinchester · 3 years
Text
Tempers
Dean Winchester x Female Reader
Summary: When a hunt goes wrong, anger flares and feelings come out.
Requested by Anonymous: This is sooo ''let's pretend they're all alive' but I think we all need something nice now, could you do one where reader is bobby's daughter and she's your typical I like makeup, short skirts and heels girl and they're all (reluctantly) working with the ghost facers for a case, dean gets protective around her bc she's bobby's daughter and not at all bc he likes her no no what gave you that idea hehehe
Word Count: 5.4k
Warnings: little bit of jealousy, injuries, mentions of blood, swearing, brief mentions of alcohol, fluff, kissing
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Hunting with the Winchester’s.
No matter the case, hunting with those two never failed to be interesting. You’d like to think you were a good hunter, in fact you knew you were. You might not have been the best there is but there’s not one hunter out there that hasn’t made a handful of mistakes on the job. It was bound to happen sometime. But you’ve had a pretty good hunter to learn from—your dad.
He wasn’t thrilled with the idea of you hunting, not in the slightest and he tried his hardest to get you to go another direction with your life. But Bobby Singer was as stubborn as they come, so he should’ve expected his daughter to be just the same as himself. With all of the reluctance in the world, he taught you to be the hunter you are today, and that’s something he can feel confident in even though he might not admit it.
Dean hadn’t taken you too seriously the first time you’d accompanied them on a hunt for a vamp nest, treating you as if you were a child despite the mere one year age difference the two of you held. That quickly changed when you saved him from a great deal of danger that night; three vamps against a disarmed Dean surely wouldn’t have gone very well.
That was something you very much held over his head, giving it a good long while before you finally let him live it down save for a few mentions here and there.
Even then Dean was just as protective as he’d been since you were teens nearly ten years ago, you were Bobby’s daughter. That was always his reasoning for insisting you stay close to him on hunts, for losing his temper should the smallest of things happen to you. That was his reasoning for being adamant that you stay back on hunts he deemed too dangerous, trying his hardest to convince Bobby to stick with him on it. Bobby never disagrees with his reasoning, but he also knows you’re too stubborn for your own good.
Dean was the very same way.
The old house looked like something straight out of a movie, the stereotypical haunted house as boards stick haphazardly over broken windows and the grass is far too overgrown. Nearly every corner was littered with spiderwebs, the siding on the house covered in years of neglected dirt and moss. It was only perfectly fitting that it’d be haunted, otherwise that’d be a waste of an abandoned house.
You squinted up at it as you got out of the backseat of the Impala, turning back to look at the long driveway you’d just driven up, lined with old trees on either side before glancing back at the house. Your gaze shifts to Dean as you smooth out your jacket, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a grin.
“What?” You ask, eyes narrowed as you look up at the older Winchester.
“Nothing,” he chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a pair of those ridiculously tall heels on. I have to say I’m shocked.”
You roll your eyes and bite the inside of your cheek as he nudges the toe of your tattered old boots, his smile still remaining as he looks down at you in amusement.
“Well I guess I’m full of surprises then, aren’t I?” You say as you rub your gloss in with a smack of your lips and brush past him to get to catch up to Sam, the smile you’d tried to stifle now tugging at your lips once your back was to him. But he knew it was there just as much as you saw his was when you turned back around to catch his expression.
He chuckled, brows soon furrowing as he shook his head. “Wait—what’s that supposed to mean?”
He slung his bag over his shoulder and quickened his pace, grumbling to himself about what your words could have meant as his brows furrowed. In a matter of moments you nearly smack into Sam, stopping just in time.
“What is it?”
“You have got to be kidding me,” Dean mutters, and when you look at him that crease between his brows deepens and his jaw tenses, eyes rolling and you follow his gaze to the ever familiar van that sat parked on the other side of the trees. “Looks like the ghostbusters beat us to it.”
Ghostfacers.
You were more than surprised when Dean had caved on working the hunt with them, not without a couple of eye rolls and a few choice words for the pair mumbled not so discreetly under his breath. But all things considered, after what happened the last time, you were surprised he’d gone through with it. Although, Harry and Ed weren’t planning on leaving anyway. They may have been more than just a little intimidated by that ever famous Dean Winchester glare, one that never worked on you, but they weren’t scared enough to back down much to Dean’s dismay.
The more people there were, the better, but that didn’t stop the older Winchester from being protective over you. In fact, you were certain he was even more so.
“Stay with me,” Dean said, his words serious as he put his arm out in front of you, his gaze over at the two less than desired guests and their cameras having been less than pleased. Especially with the way they smiled at you and acted like a couple of fools with a crush.
“What am I five, Dean?” You say, pushing his arm down as you quicken your pace to walk with him rather than behind him.
He narrows his eyes down at you as his lips purse till those dimples appeared that you’ve come to know oh so well, and rarely were they not from discontentment.
“Would you slow down?” He huffs, a smile tugging at your lips.
You sigh, shaking your head in amusement.
You failed to miss the way the back of his hand had brushed over your knuckles as you walked along the shadowed hallway, thick with cobwebs and rubble scattering across the scratched wood floors. You were starting to wonder if the action was a simple accident or if he’d felt the same spark of something you couldn’t quite pinpoint in his chest as you felt in yours.
It could have been nothing, probably was, but you shook it off when you turned around the corner and tried not to think about it again.
The hunt was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be a simple salt and burn, and it was one spirit against five people. Harry and Ed weren’t the best of help, not really, but it was more than you walked in with and it should have been better. But it wasn’t.
The spirit turned out to be far more vengeful than she let on, and as Dean suspected, it wasn’t a good idea to split up. Not in a house that was three times bigger than it seemed with a more than violent spirit on the loose. It most certainly didn’t help that the sun had finally dipped below the horizon, the house dark enough to begin with even in daylight, it’s boarded up windows and burnt out lightbulbs working against you.
Had you not been there, Dean would more than readily have split up to cover more ground with the extra set of hands accompanying you this time, it only made sense to do so. But you were. You were there and you were just as stubborn as ever as you stood there in favor of the very idea that was just the opposite of what Dean wanted. What was a good idea to you and one to most was the worst thing he could possibly think of. He didn’t want you to stray far from him for reasons he’d never admit, not to you or himself, instead reasoning with a simple ‘because I said so’.
But that phrase didn’t work on you. It never did.
He knew. From the moment those two barreled down the stairs looking paler than the spirit you were after, holding all the hesitancy in the world in their body language he knew. The apologetic look Sam had given him wasn’t one that helped either, anger quick to spark within him as he closed his eyes for a moment. He should have known better than to believe they’d offer you any form of protection even though he knows you can hold your own. He should have known better than to quit arguing with you on the matter because maybe, just maybe you’d have given in and split up with him instead. Maybe you would still be with the group and not who knows where in this maze of a run down mansion.
It was a mess of maybe’s and what if’s that clouded his every thought.
But he didn’t argue and you were gone. You were swept away by Casper the not so friendly ghost and he was to blame. Bobby would be livid if he knew, he gets that, but Dean himself didn’t know what he’d do if something happened. He could deal with the wrath of Bobby Singer any day but he couldn’t deal with even just the thought of something happening to you and he couldn’t find it in him to grasp just why it was he felt that way. Maybe he could, but he doesn’t want to think about it.
“You what?” Dean asked, anger simmering in the pit of his stomach. His question was low and the two words were more than venomous, more than telling of just how angry he’d been. He heard exactly what Ed had told him not thirty seconds before, he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He could believe it actually, because it was Ed of all people, but that wasn’t the point.
Ed swallowed thickly and offered a nervous laugh in an attempt to stave off the tension that’d been building the moment they came back to Dean without you, backing up from the green eyed Winchester who’d been staring him down with a narrowed gaze. It wasn’t hard to see that his patience was wearing thin, and he knew he was pushing it the more he stalled. “She—she went ahead! It’s not like we could talk her out of it!”
His fists clenched and relaxed at his sides at the reasoning he just heard, crescent shaped imprints of his nails left behind on his palms in the wake of his increasing anger.
“You let her out of your sight?” He said, far louder than before. He grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pushed him against the dilapidated old wall, the wood creaking under the newfound pressure against it and a cloud of dust forming. He’s more than tense as Dean crinkles his shirt between his fists, knuckles ivory white and jaw clenched tightly. He could see every freckle and every ounce of emotion in Dean’s eyes, that’s how close he was. He could see the angry quiver in his bottom lip and the flare of his nostrils, could feel his breath hitting his face as he stood pinned to the wall and his glasses even fogged up.
“What, you thought you’d play ‘Mr. Tough Guy’, try and protect her? Huh? Cause you sure as hell didn’t do a good job,” Dean grits out frustratedly.
“She said she’d kick my ass if I didn’t let her go ahead!” He splutters, nearly nose to nose with him.
Dean nodded, the smile on his face bitter as he slid his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” he says, sweating bullets by that point as he buckled under the pressure of Dean’s distress. He let out a noise when he shook him slightly and he knows that’s not the answer Dean needs to hear right now. “We were on the second floor when a door slammed around the corner!”
“Actually, they all closed so it’s kinda hard to tell which one,” Harry chimed in, growing timid the more he spoke as he stepped closer to Sam as some form of protection. He scratched the back of his neck and laughed nervously when Dean’s stare fell on him.
“Dean, we’ll find her, okay? Right now we’re just wasting time,” Sam says, noting Ed was two seconds from fainting from the anger radiating off the older Winchester.
Dean pushed him back once more before releasing his grip on his shirt, wrinkled and disheveled from the tightness of his fists. It was becoming increasingly more apparent that this was about more than just protecting Bobby Singer’s daughter. It was about more than just his annoyance with anything and everything that has to do with Ghostfacers. It was you.
He was angry, livid, as he snagged the flashlight from the table, storming off on his own. Not without his anger getting the better of him, a nearby chair taking the brunt of his frustration as it hits the wall. He remembers just what happened the last time he got stuck working a hunt with them, and he tried his hardest not to think about it.
Meanwhile, you found yourself stuck locked in a room you knew you weren’t in before you were taken. A room you didn’t even know existed in this house to begin with. For being a run down old building, the flimsy doors were stronger than they looked, but you suppose the powers of the supernatural didn’t really care about things like that.
Your knuckles were an angry shade of red, fists sore and throbbing from having pounded them against the door for the better part of what had to be ten minutes in an attempt to escape or at least grab someone’s attention. You were tired as you slumped back against the wall, tucked within the sparse circle of salt you managed to make. Your phone was dead and your flashlight was gone, your energy seemingly just as drained as everything else.
You could feel the I told you so’s coming from Dean, you knew they’d be there ready and waiting if you get out of this. It’s not like it had been completely undeserved, but you didn’t want to hear it. You knew you more than likely looked worse for wear as you sat within that circle, knew by the way you saw smears of crimson on your fingers when you wiped your cheek. It was no secret that you messed up big time with this one, you’d admit that, but admitting it to yourself didn’t help you in that moment and you certainly wouldn’t say it to Dean.
You found there were a lot of things you were hesitant on admitting to Dean, and in the current moment you weren’t so sure if you’d have the chance to bring any of them to light. Maybe it was for the best anyway, could save yourself the embarrassment of having feelings for the older Winchester in the first place. Though you can’t tell what was scarier, the thought of his inevitable discontent with you and your hunting capabilities should you make it out alive, or the very real possibility that you wouldn’t make it out alive.
Yeah, you definitely couldn’t decide that one.
You weren’t sure how or when you found yourself pining over green eyes; the two of you bickered more often than not each and every time you saw one another. If it wasn’t over the smell of your perfume filling up the Impala, it was the way his cologne hung on you after he gave you a hug just to make that happen, just to ruffle your hair after you’d just done it. It was the softer smiles you shared with each other without even realizing it.
But it didn’t really matter, not now it didn’t.
You were caught up with the sting of embarrassment coursing through you from having gotten lost in the first place—you were so adamant that you could do it on your own. It happens to Sam all the time, it happens to Dean all the time, but you couldn’t stop the heat burning in your cheeks or the frustration building in your stomach.
You didn’t know how much time had passed nor did you have a second to think on it before she appeared in front of you in a matter of seconds. The look on her face had you sitting a little straighter, back pressing to the wall behind you as you eyed the pitiful salt ring around you. She laughed tauntingly and you were beginning to think even that wouldn’t protect you, you knew it wouldn’t judging by the way each and every granule began to sift away and break apart it’s protective ring.
You swallow thickly as your eyes widened, both your gaze and hers shifting to the door briefly as it rattled. “Y/n?”
Your breath hitched, only the smallest bit of relief washing over you as her attention returned to you almost immediately. “Dean!”
She didn’t seem to mind his attempts at busting the door down, nor the axe that split through the wood. She knew full well she could send him across the room with a simple twitch of her finger should he break through, watching as you scramble to your feet.
In a matter of seconds she’d appeared mere inches from you, her hand grabbing your face, cold and unforgiving. You didn’t know just what it was she’d been doing, but you were more than aware of the pain beginning to lance through you the moment she touched your skin.
It was near unbearable, a sharp burn radiating through you as a pressure squeezed in on you, intense and unwavering. You were quite sure you’d never felt something so intensely, the feeling nearly taking your breath away. Of all the hunts you’d been on, of all the injuries you walked away with, they’ve got nothing on this.
One thing she didn’t count on was the handful of salt you gathered in your palm, too caught up in your demise to see you’d snagged it from the protective ring she broke. You pressed your hand to her wrist and watched her face twist and contort in discomfort, the action searing her arm where you’d touched it and releasing her grip on you in an instant as if you were venomous.
She pushed you to the wall in retaliation with a simple move of her hand, and if you thought she’d been angry now, you surely were mistaken. You groaned as the fragile old wall behind you cracked and crumbled around you, slumping on the ground once more in exhaustion. You caught sight of Dean’s face as the door began to give way, livid yet holding something you couldn’t quite place as your heart hammered in your chest.
But luck seemed to be on your side just this once, fear flashing across her face as she stood mere inches from you. Her yelp was shrill as she stumbled backwards, having burned up in a blaze of misery and screams. Your chest heaved as your shoulders slumped in relief, the heat of her disappearance having fanned over you and the door breaking loose in a heap of shards and splinters.
The pain she’d caused had begun to ebb away and subside, leaving the ache to remain and the fatigue you felt to rest heavier in your body as you stood to your feet with a bit of unbalance.
Dean had crossed the room in a matter of a few strides, the axe clattering to the floor as his hand settled on your cheek. You looked miserable, mascara smudged and a frown on your busted lip.
“You okay?” He asked, the furrow deep between his brows.
“Do not say ‘I told you so’,” you grumble, half humorous as you look up at him.
His lips purse, his thumb swiping over the cut running along your cheek that he was less than pleased about. Any other time he might’ve laughed, but not this time. The worried crease between his brows and the way his lips pointed downward at the corners had been telling enough that he wasn’t happy with the predicament you’d gotten yourself into, that he was the complete opposite of thrilled at the close call that had his heart pounding and his stress in overdrive. But right now he was relieved. You were here and you were okay, attitude and all.
Sam was first to rush in, Harry next and Ed hot on his heels as they stepped over the rubble and splinters of the broken door.
Ed’s own relief washed over him, happy to not be on the receiving end of an angry Dean Winchester’s punch. “You found her—”
“Shut it.”
It’d been quiet the whole car ride home, no music on the radio, no conversation, no quick witted jokes or typical conversation. It was quiet and it was tense, near uncomfortable as Sam was stuck in the tension between two people he knows have something brewing between them. But he said nothing, pretending he didn’t see the way his brother’s gaze flickers to the rear view every other minute to see if you’re okay, his jaw tense and his grip on the wheel nearly too tight.
Bobby wasn’t thrilled to see the way that spirit roughed you up, more than a few choice words thrown Dean’s way with anger in his tone. He expected that much, having braced for it the whole ride back. He didn’t argue, didn’t do much more than nod and clench his jaw, and he didn’t say just how it was that it happened in the first place either.
Now you were wandering through your dad’s house, quiet unlike it had been just two hours earlier. Your dad and Sam had both been asleep, the early hours of dawn beginning to roll around as dawn approached. You knew better than to believe Dean would be sleeping too, your thoughts confirmed when the door to the bedroom he’d been crashing in was still open, bed empty and still untouched from when he’d haphazardly made it the morning before.
You sighed when you saw him, sitting by himself on the back porch swing and the moment you stepped outside you saw the half-drunk bottle of beer in his hand. His gaze lifted to you when he heard the creak of the door, averting his stare moments later.
“It’s late, sweetheart. Go to bed.”
“Then why aren’t you in bed?”
“Not tired,” he says, tipping his bottle against his lips as he takes another sip of his beer.
You huff out a soft sigh, arms crossing over your chest. That’s when he looks at you again, the dimness of the porch light having illuminated the jagged scratch on your cheek, freshly cleaned as well as the mascara that smudged under your eyes earlier. The tension in his jaw had yet to go away, obvious as ever.
“Are you going to be mad at me forever then?”
“‘M not mad anymore,” he says, and you knew for a fact that’d been a lie.
“You’re not that good a liar, Dean,” you say, watching him set his drink down and stand to his feet, leaning his weight on the wooden railing. “I had it handled, you know,” you say, watching his expression sour at your words.
You heard his scoff as you brushed past him, a sigh leaving your lips because you knew he’d react just the way he’d been acting. You were right with him, you were always right.
“Had it handled, my ass,” he said, quick to follow after you. “I told you not to do that.”
“Yeah, well I did it,” you said, and he turned in front of you and spun around, keeping you from walking any further.
“Would you quit it with the tough guy act? You’re hurt and you damn well know it, I know it. Hell, anyone can see that. So do yourself a favor and stop pretending like you had everything under control because I know you better than to believe that.”
Your brows furrow as you look up at him with a squinted gaze, watching as his chest rises and falls, at the way there was something more than anger pooling in his eyes as he looked at you. You’ve never seen him quite this upset over you before, not really, never seen him look at you that way before. He was angry, sure he was, but it was different.
He wasn’t wrong, you were hurting, it’s not everyday you’re on the receiving end of a vengeful spirits’ wrath. You went off on your own when you shouldn’t have been so bold and daring. But you were here. You were here and you were okay and you knew you were bound to do it again on another case. It was what being a hunter is about. You didn’t get this far by sitting back and letting the monsters out there come to you, you had to go out and look for them and if you got a few bumps and bruises then so be it.
“Why are you so mad, Dean?” You ask, watching his eyes roll. “You go out and do the same reckless things on a hunt, you’ve come out on the other side way worse than I did. But since it’s me, suddenly it’s a problem.”
“Exactly, it’s because it’s you!” He repeats, frustrated as ever as he throws his hands up. “And yeah I’m mad. I’m freakin’ pissed. You come in here thinking you’re invincible and you’re not Y/n. I’m mad because…” he paused, letting out a breath as he rubbed his face, hands running through his hair.
He looked at you then, expression softening as he calmed down a fraction. “Forget it.”
“No, not forget it,” you say, grabbing his wrist as he starts to walk away. His jaw was clenched as he looked down at you, swallowing thickly as the heaving of his chest slowed and his grip on the doorknob was tighter than ever.
This was the first time since you’d gotten back that he’d looked in your eyes for longer than a mere second or two. You knew he was on the brink of storming off to sulk in his own anger and guilt because that’s what he always did. You knew there was something more to it than just what he’d told you. He’d like to think that you’d believe that he wasn’t angry anymore, that he was over it. But Sam told you what happened back there, how upset he got with Ed and just how worried he’d been. It was growing increasingly obvious that there was more to it than that.
It was then that you noticed you’d still been holding onto his wrist and he didn’t pull away from you, didn’t make a move to.
You tilted your head to the side when you mulled things over, and that was when the sudden realization hit you like a ton of bricks, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of your mouth.
He rolls his eyes, “Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t do that thing where you try and ‘read’ me,” he says, quoting the word.
“You were scared,” you said, smile widening a bit and he huffs, pulling his arm from your loose grip. You hit the nail right on the head.
“I was just doing what Bobby asked me to do,” he says, adamant that that was his reason for being as upset as he was. Definitely not over the feelings bubbling away in the pit of his stomach, just waiting to go ahead and boil over.
“No, you were scared, De,” you say as he starts to turn away from you in an attempt to hide the smile threatening to show. “You were scared that I got lost.”
You always did that. You always took his anger and made it something else entirely and he’d try his hardest to keep that wall up. He was mad at you, mad at you for putting yourself in the same kind of danger he allows himself to be in with every hunt he does. But if you keep poking and prodding him and calling him out on his true feelings with that smile that makes him weak in the knees he does know how long he’ll last.
“You got this all wrong, sweetheart.”
“Sam told me what happened with Ed back there.”
His expression changed, softened a bit before he played it off with that familiar smirk. “Yeah, Ed’s an idiot and he pushed my buttons.”
You nodded then, your smile more than telling that you didn’t believe a word he said. You heaved a sigh, a bit of disappointment burning in your chest at his words. Because maybe you did have it all wrong, maybe his stubborn reluctance to be honest was just him telling the truth. Maybe he was just doing what your dad asked him to do. Being protective was in his nature, you knew that for a fact.
You brushed past him on the porch and headed to the door, the chirping of the early morning birds sounding and giving you enough of a reminder that maybe you should go to bed. That maybe you’ll feel better with a few hours of sleep. That maybe they would be gone, Dean would be gone by the time you woke up and you wouldn’t have to face the fluttery feeling and the ache in your heart until the next time you see him.
You spin on your heel to find him already looking, your smile soft. “Goodnight, Dean.”
Without so much as a reply you twist the old brass doorknob, pushing the back door open before his hand grips your wrist. You turned back to look at him, brows furrowed as you gazed up at him. He swallows thickly as he looks at you, lips parting to speak but the very words he’d been thinking of so vividly were stuck on the top of his tongue.
His hand loosens around your wrist and the tips of his fingers slide down to your hand to envelope yours, calloused and warm and hesitant. He takes all but a few seconds of your curious gaze, of the questions sitting on your tongue before he dips down and presses his lips on yours. It’s soft, featherlight almost as he pulls away just as quickly.
He doesn’t stray too far, his nose brushing against yours as he swallows nervously, but the sight of your smile put him at ease. Had him kissing you with just a little more vigor as his hand drops yours in favor of pressing to your cheek, your own having settled in his arm. Your smiles mingle and press into each other, the kiss soft and languid as your cheeks burned under his touch.
“I was right, wasn’t I?” You murmur, and the way he hummed softly, the way he stole another kiss in favor of admitting you were was telling enough.
He pulls back to look at you, his lips kiss swollen and pink as the beginnings of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. His eyes bounce between yours and down to your lips, looking at you once more before he kisses you again. The anger he held is quick to melt when you look at him the way you do and he hates it, he loves it but he hates it because he really should be mad. You nearly got yourself killed and here he was weak in the knees and he knows you’ll be just as brave on the next hunt. He knows you’ll do just the same thing.
“Your dad’s gonna kill me,” he mumbles, smiling against your lips.
“Probably,” you say with a grin, his quiet laughter immediate as he pulls you closer.
But you were right. There was more to it than just protecting Bobby Singer’s daughter, there always was. As stubborn as Dean Winchester could be, you knew him better than that, and he knew you better than to believe you won’t make his heart race and his worry spike on every hunt after that. It’s just in your nature to be braver than ever.
But he’ll protect you each and every time.
Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @lanea-1 @campingmonkey
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alrightberries · 3 years
Text
“may i?”
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❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader
❈ genre: fluff & angst.  ❈ word count: 8k
❈ summary: you’re the medic assigned to take care of captain levi as he heals from the explosion. you’re also the only person he tolerates.
alternatively: in which you create prosthetics for humanity’s most war torn soldier.
❈ trigger warnings: manga spoliers. profanity. mentions of violence, blood, gore, and death. mentions of sexual themes.
a/n: levi’s kinda ooc bc i couldn’t write the progress of his relationship with reader without making it longer than it already is. also this is medically inaccurate (re: healing time of broken bones and amputations) for the sake of the plot so pls no one throw hands. 
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Levi doesn't like looking at mirrors.
There was no tragic backstory behind his distaste for the reflective surface, no deeper meaning or hidden symbolism as one would expect from a man with his past. The reason behind it was simple: he just saw no reason to.
He wasn't vain, wasn't too concerned about his face, didn't care much to look at his physical appearance aside from when he had to cut his hair or get ready for the day to look presentable to his comrades. He knew he was attractive, and effortlessly so. The little letters and gifts he’d received from fans and admirers proved as much, and his title of “Humanity’s Strongest” only added to the appeal. Really, there was no reason for him to always be looking into a mirror.
But now... Levi simply couldn’t understand why that mindset had vanished. It was replaced with the fervor to always be staring at his own reflection— not out of vanity but out of disgust.
The disgust of staring at his mutilated face.
He warily lifts up the small mirror he held in his hand, features contorting into a grimace at the man staring back at him. Scars and cuts littered his cheeks— some deeper than others, but none as terrible as the long jagged scar that ran down the right side of his face. It started from his forehead and ended at his bottom lip, held together by ugly black stitches the medics had hurriedly sewn on him the second he got back to the base. His right eye was split in half, completely useless, completely blind; held together by the same black stitches that donned the ugliest scar of all.
And Levi couldn’t help but think that this man was hideous.
He was hideous.
Levi reaches out with his right hand to touch his scars out of habit. He feels his heart tighten when he realizes there’s only air where his fingers should be and he nearly breaks the small mirror he held in his good hand from how hard he was squeezing it. 
The mirror makes a gentle clink as he sets it down onto the mahogany of his desk. Bitterly, he stares at his three fingered right hand. His pointer and middle finger were gone, nothing but pathetic stumps protruding from his knuckles where they used to be. It was still covered in bandages and a makeshift brace so he wouldn’t strain himself when he moved, but he knew it was useless. He couldn’t move those stumps even if he tried.
He probably should’ve been thankful to have made it out of that explosion alive— not unscathed, but alive nonetheless. Though Hange had tried cheering him up (“Look on the bright side, we can wear matching eyepatches now!”) he simply couldn’t find it in himself to celebrate coming back so... useless. 
His writing was as legible as chicken scratches. His right eye spasmed in pain every time he blinked. He couldn’t even try to relearn how to use the ODM gear with his new circumstance, and he mentally curses out his orders to stay put and heal.
Too many things were lost, too many people, too many lives.
All because of that damned explosion.
All because of that damned bearded bastard.
Levi is pulled from his thoughts when three soft knocks reverberate throughout his otherwise quiet office, and he rushes to put his eyepatch on and hide the mirror in his desk drawer. He attempts to sit in what he hopes was a seemingly ‘professional’ position but his stiffness gives away his discomfort. 
“Name and business.”
“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”
He feels himself release a breath he didn’t even know he was holding once he hears the voice. Your voice. 
“Come in.”
The wooden door creaks open before it closes with a soft click, floorboards making minuscule sounds at the weight as you make your way to his desk. Levi pretends to look busy as his good eye scans the document he held in his hand. 
The sound of porcelain clinking against porcelain grabs his attention.
“Brought you tea.” You murmured. “I figured it won’t be up to your standards again but I did try my best.”
Levi still doesn’t look up as you set the tray down on his desk, and his good hand reaches for the steaming cup to take a small sip. His eye twitches at the taste.
“If you were going to bring me shit tea anyway then why bother.”
He hears a gentle chuckle but doesn’t see the way you smile at his contradictory words and actions. He made no move to throw the “shit tea” away, something he was infamous for with teas that didn’t meet his standards. Instead, he keeps sipping, gently placing the cup down onto his table once he finished.
“I thought that maybe distracting you with terrible tea would keep your mind off me changing your bandages.” You explained, and Levi nods but doesn’t speak. When silence once again filled the room, interrupted only by the occasional crumple of documents you knew he wasn’t reading, you take it as your cue to pick up your pen and clipboard to start the checkup.
“Have you felt any discomfort or pain in any of your extremities such as your right eye or your right hand?”
“No.”
“Have you felt any throbbing or other sensations in any part of your body?”
“No.”
“Have you experienced any fevers, headaches, dizziness, or sudden spasms in any part of your body?”
“No.”
He hears you set your clipboard down and his skin tingles from your doubtful stare. He didn’t have to look to know it was there. He risks a glimpse at the papers attached to the wooden board in your hands but just as he expected, you didn’t write down any of his answers.
“Have you lied to any or all of the questions I’ve asked during your routine checkup for today?”
“...yes.”
A soft sigh escape through your nose and your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. “Captain, lying to your medic won’t get you to the battlefield faster. You’re of no use to anyone when you’re injured.”
Levi clicks his tongue at your reply but he holds his smart ass comments back. He knew you were right, and it infuriated him so much.
“Fine,” he grits out. “My right eye’s been twitching all day. The fucking stumps on my right hand don’t feel like stumps. It feels like I still have fingers there, and I know it’s complete bullshit since they were lying next to my face when they got blown off.”
His angry glance finally lands on you. “That the answer you were looking for, oh medic of mine?”
It was now your turn to click your tongue. “Not quite,” you mumble, writing down his answers onto the file in your hands. “Feeling your missing limbs even after they’re amputated is normal. It’s called phantom touch.”
You place the clipboard back onto his desk and reach into your pockets, pulling out pristine white gloves before gingerly putting them on.
“Your right eye still spasming though, that’s concerning.” You add. Your hands slowly reach out to his face, and Levi momentarily flinches away out of habit. But you made no move to touch him.
He eyes you warily, tense muscles relaxing even just the slightest as he sees your gentle stare.
“May I?” You ask softly, a caring smile on your face.
Levi only nods, not trusting his words, and he once again tenses up as he feels your hands unbuckle the leather straps of his eyepatch before setting it down onto his table. He keeps his bad eye shut.
Your hands are gentle as you touch his face, touch nothing but a soft caress in such a way that his tender stitches felt no pain. Your eyes are focused on his stitches, lacking any judgement or ill will, and Levi’s suddenly aware of how close you actually were to his face.
Your eyes were beautiful, he noticed. They always were. The little furrow in your eyebrows as you concentrated was cute, and the soft caress of your hands on his cheeks as you inspected his face felt... nice, and dare he even say relaxing. Momentarily, when he finally lets himself adjust to the atmosphere, he lets his tense muscles ease.
“Can you open your right eye, Levi?”
“Y-yeah.”
FUCK.
What the fuck.
Did he just fucking stutter?
Levi’s surprise is only painted on his face for a few mere seconds before he schools his expression back to one of stoicness and neutrality, and he prays to all the existing gods he knew of that you wouldn’t notice.
He risks another glance at you. One of your eyebrows is arched and the corner of your lip is quirked up in a small smirk, but you dared not comment on the captain’s speech mishap.
Fuck. So you did notice.
Before he could try to save face by dishing out some bullshit reprimand of being disrespectful for calling him by his name and not his title, the words die on his tongue as you lean in impossibly close and oh god your noses were almost touching, your eyes are even more beautiful up close, and what the fuck is—
“Captain,” you repeat. “Can you open your right eye please?”
Oh, right.
He doesn’t speak as he does what he was told. He feels his eye open but no vision comes to his senses. 
“It’s looking... not so good.” He hears you mumble, face contorted into one of concern. “It’s actually looking pretty bad.”
Levi scoffs. “Not one to beat around the bush, are you.”
You roll your eyes, the small smile once again returning to your lips.
“How long have you been keeping the eyepatch on?” You ask. Your hands are holding his head in place now, grasp a little more firm but not enough to hurt.
“An hour at most.”
“Are you lying again?”
He sighs. “Yes.”
You nod but made no further comment, leaning back to grab the clipboard once more to write down your observations. 
“So,” you start. “Are you going to tell me the truth or do I have to poke your bad eye?”
Levi’s lips turn into a frown at the notion. “I’ve kept it on the entire day. And I know you’re probably lying about poking my eye, but in case you’re not, no. I do not want you poking my eye.”
You nod your head again, writing more things down onto your little clipboard.
“You should let it breathe. Keep it on for an hour or two at most but take it off when you sleep. Too much friction with the eyepatch might cause irritation.”
As the consultation draws on, Levi tries (keyword: tries) to be as honest as he could. Not that he could be dishonest when you were so good at snooping out his lies, though. You were already used to his stubbornness.
He wasn’t lying, however, when he tells himself that his heartbeat did not speed up when your hands gently held his own as you changed his bandages and cleaned his amputation; he wasn’t lying when he tells himself that the tips of his ears were not burning a bright red, cheeks flushed as you asked him to take off his shirt; and he definitely wasn’t lying when he tells himself that his dick did not twitch in his pants when your hands caressed his abdomen and back, accidentally hitting sweet spots he didn’t even know existed, to inspect his still purple bruises and healing ribs.
Yeah, he definitely was not lying.
“Okay, I think we’re done for today.” You say cheerfully. “I’ll be back same time tomorrow for another checkup.”
He glances up as he finishes buttoning the last buttons on his shirt. The gloves from your hands are taken off and tucked back into your pockets, and you hand him a small vial full of pills.
“Take one of these, twice a day at most, whenever you feel pain in your right eye.”
“I’m not feeling any—“
“Sure you’re not.” You cut him off with a smile. “I believe you. But feel free to contact me for any pain or discomfort you feel at any time of the day. I’ll be more than glad to find you.”
Levi says nothing, opting to instead stare at you as you gather the now empty teacup and kettle, placing them back onto the tray along with your clipboard and pen.
“Oh, by the way.” You speak, walking towards the door and opening it. You don’t spare him another glance as you finish your sentence. “I don’t think I can prescribe any pills to lessen blood flow to your dick.”
The door shuts with a soft click behind you, and Levi’s momentarily mortified as he processes your words. He risks yet another glance, this time down to his lap.
Shit, he thinks before he sighs. His hands readjust the hard-on in his pants.
Nothing goes past your observant eyes.
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“Name and business.”
“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”
“Come in.”
Levi doesn’t bother to look busy like he did last week, you noticed, because this time he was actually busy. Which was odd considering he was taken off paperwork duty until he could write again.
“What’re you up to?” You ask, setting the tray down onto his desk and pouring him a cup of tea. Your eyes curiously glance at the papers scattered about his usually clean desk, each filled with indiscernible writings of his name.
“Trying to write. I’m useless until I can.” He mumbles before he scoffs. “This would be easier if I had all my fingers.”
You nod along to his replies yet made no move to stop him. You picked up your pen and clipboard to write things down as well.
“You’re not supposed to be using your right hand, your amputation is still too tender.”
“Tch, what do you expect me to do then?”
“Uh... use your non-injured, complete left hand?”
Levi blinks at your words, and he has half a mind to slap his forehead for being dumb and not thinking of that. Which he undoubtedly would’ve done had you not pushed the steaming cup of tea closer to his sitting form.
“Have some tea. You look like you’re about to pop a vein.”
Your smart remark is met with silence and a steely glare, and surprisingly, as Levi drank the tea you prepared, he notices it’s not downright terrible.
“Your brew’s better.” 
“Yeah. I finally took your advice of using a thermometer to get ‘the perfect temperature’ after you complained about my ‘shitty tea’ for the nth time that week.”
Levi hides his little smirk behind the teacup, silently reveling in his small triumph before setting it down. From the corner of his eye, he notices you eyeing something, and his heart drops as his gaze follows your own.
The mirror. He forgot to hide the mirror.
Discreetly (or as discreet as he could) he takes the mirror and shoves it back into his desk drawer. You had many questions, that much he knew, but he was thankful when you didn’t push it further.
“Shall we begin?” You ask instead.
“Yeah.”
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“Name and business.”
“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”
“Come in.”
Levi’s been trying to write again, you surmised, as you glanced at his focused eyes and the tenseness of his shoulders. Scattered papers still littered his desk and he was still trying to write his name. This time though, you were relieved when you saw he was using his left hand.
“Finally took my advice?” You asked, pouring him a cup of tea.
“Regretting it.” He doesn’t look up from his task as he answers, something you noticed he always did. “It’s been three days since I took your advice and my handwriting’s shittier than it was then.”
You smile, hand reaching out to hold his incomplete one that was clenched into a fist on the desk. He immediately stops writing, opting to instead stare at your hand atop his before glancing up at you.
“What are you doing?”
“Making you relax. You might tear your stitches.”
He feels you give his hand a gentle squeeze, and the warmth of your hand is suddenly gone from his own. You reach for the cup of tea you prepared, and he wills his cheeks to not show his blush at the small gesture. You slide the teacup across the table.
“What makes you think holding my hand will make me relax?” He asks snarkily. He reaches for the tea with his good hand.
“Are you relaxed?”
Levi ponders the question in his mind, noticing how his muscles were no longer tense, his shoulders were now slumped down, and his eyebrows were no longer scrunched. He sips the tea.
“Your brew’s still shit.” He replies instead.
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“Name and business.”
“Y/N L/N. I came here for your daily checkup.”
“Come in.”
Your head peaks out from behind his door as you enter, closing it with your foot and making your way to his desk. You were no longer surprised when you saw him still writing and scribbling messily at his desk as he’s done for days now, and you discreetly eye the papers as you pour him his tea.
“You don’t have to keep bringing me tea.” He comments, still focused on writing.
“I know.” You reply. “But how am I going to perfect your brew if I don’t practice?”
Levi glances up, and he raises his eyebrow as he sees you sat on his table, a cheeky grin on your face. He makes no move to scold you for being so casual in his office and instead reaches out to take a sip of the tea. He notices your expectant eyes, the grin on your face widening as he nods in approval.
“Your tea’s not bad today.”
“Really?! You think it’s good?”
“I said not bad, I didn’t say it was good.”
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“Name and business.”
“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your daily checkup.”
“Come in.”
The first thing you noticed as you entered Levi’s office was, of course, the scattered paper around his desk, face focused as he continued to practice his writing. The second thing you noticed was that he was no longer using his left hand.
“It’s barely been two weeks. Did you give up already?” You ask as you pour his tea.
“I write better with my right hand.” He simply replies, not even glancing up as you slide him the beverage. He uses his good hand to reach out for the cup, silently preparing his tongue for another unpleasant attack.
He takes a sip and his eyebrows shoot up from surprise. The tea was... delicious, absolutely delicious, and Levi couldn’t find anything to complain about. The temperature was right, it wasn’t too bitter but wasn’t too sweet, and the aroma was delectable. He takes a sip once more to double check if his taste buds were deceiving him, but the second sip was just as good as the last.
His suspicious eye makes contact with yours, a shit eating grin painted on your face as you eagerly awaited his feedback. The porcelain makes a sound as he sets it down.
“You bought this from the tea shop across the barracks. That’s cheating.”
“For fuck’s sake!”
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Three soft knocks reverberate through the door to Levi’s office. The captain hastily hides the papers with your name scribbled on, shoving them inside his desk drawer. A shiny glint catches his eye before he could close the shelf and he pauses as he realizes it was his mirror. He hadn’t taken it out in a while. He was always too distracted with criticizing your piss poor tea to even think about his appearance.
“Name and business.” He calls out, still eyeing the shiny object.
“Hange Zoe. Y/N asked me to do your daily checkup.”
Levi's eyes widened, heartbeat stopping for a second as he heard Hange’s voice. Where were you?
“Come in.” He closes the drawer as the door opens and Hange walks in. 
Levi couldn’t help but notice that he was becoming uncomfortable the closer his friend got; skin prickling, hands sweating, his collar feeling a little too tight. Little by little getting more conscious of himself as Hange walked closer.
Was this what insecurity felt like?
He briefly wonders why he didn’t feel it with you, but his mind answers him with a simple fact: you were the only person who’s seen him mangled and bruised, and each time, you showed nothing but gentleness and care. Yet even with this knowledge, the notion that a person other than you would be doing his checkup today didn’t sit right with him.
He pushes his discomfort to the back of his mind, telling himself to remain objective. But it didn’t stop him from subconsciously adjusting his eyepatch and hiding his incomplete hand underneath the desk. He eyes the tray in Hange’s hands, spotting the kettle and teacup.
“I don’t want your shitty tea.”
Hange doesn’t look up as they pour him a cup, humming a tune Levi doesn’t recognize as they hand him the warm beverage.
“It’s not my shitty tea.” They reply. “It’s Y/N’s shitty tea. They made you a batch before they left for the mission.”
Levi’s good hand pauses for a brief second as he reaches for the cup, mind still processing the fact that Hange said Y/N and mission. You hadn’t mentioned anything to him, and since he wasn’t allowed paperwork duty until he could write legibly, he wasn’t aware of any missions.
“I see.” He takes a sip, and he immediately squints his eyes in doubt once his tongue caught taste of the flavor. “This isn’t Y/N’s tea.”
Hange looks up from the clipboard they were writing on, eyebrows are arched in curiosity. “What?”
“This isn’t Y/N’s tea. This is from the tea shop down the road.”
Hange’s confused face stays still for a few seconds, silently assessing whether Levi was being serious or not. A smile cracks on their face, turning into a grin as small chuckles left their lips, before finally turning into full blown laughter. The captain waits for the eccentric soldier to stop cackling and start explaining, but Hange’s answer only serves to confuse him more.
“Nice try, shorty. You crack me up.”
Levi ignores the remark about his height. “What do you mean?”
“Y/N owns the tea shop down the road. Made the recipe for the black tea you love so much, even.”
The captain’s good eye twitches, and if Hange notices, they don't comment. Levi takes a sip of the tea once more, a little more doubtful this time, before sighing in content as the drink makes its way down his throat.
“Why did Y/N go on the mission? I thought they were to be my caretaker until further notice.” He chooses to ask, placing the cup down and pretending to busy himself as he absentmindedly starts practicing his writing.
“Y/N is our topic medic, their skills are more valuable on the battlefield than in an office with you.” They reply, and the captain pretends that the truthfulness of the statement doesn’t sting the slightest.
“Besides,” Hange pulls out white gloves from their pockets, sliding the cloth over their hands to prepare for the checkup. “Y/N personally asked to be reassigned.”
Levi sputters and chokes on his tea at the sudden revelation, and he feels Hange’s hand patting his back as he tries to compose himself. You asked to be reassigned? But why?
“Why?” He manages to choke out before once more descending into a coughing fit. Hange silently hands him a napkin.
“They didn’t say.”
Perhaps you were done with his incessant criticizing of your tea making skills (if so, then why’d you keep brewing him a crappy batch? Clearly you could’ve made good tea whenever you wanted.) Perhaps you grew tired of watching over him everyday when you could’ve been attending to more injured soldiers in the medical wing or the battlefield. Or perhaps you felt a little cooped up in the office with him, hating that you were confined when you could’ve gone on missions to help the wounded.
Whatever your reason may be, Levi finally gets himself to stop coughing and wipes his mouth. Any questions he had, he would ask you. For now, he pushes his feelings to the back of his mind to ask a more important question.
“Why are you here and not on the expedition, Commander?”
Hange shrugs.
“I wanted to bond over eyepatches with you.”
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Levi was trying, okay? He was really trying.
But god, the new caretaker assigned to him was nothing short of a complete and utter noob. His bandages were always either too loose or too tight, his touches every time he tried to inspect Levi’s scars were always an ironclad grip, and worst of all, his tea was pure and utter shit.
“Watch it!” Levi barks, and his caretaker jumps about two feet away from him at his yell. “What’re you trying to do?! Are you inspecting my broken ribs or trying to give me a broken rib?”
Oh, that too. His caretaker was the hands on type, something Levi wouldn’t have minded if not for the fact that his caretaker was also heavy-handed, and Levi had had enough of this bullshit.
“Stop it, just stop. Get out of my office, right now, and find me a new caretaker.”
“B-but, Captain, there’s no one else who can—“
His caretaker is cut off when he makes eye contact with the enraged captain. Levi’s eyebrows were knitted together in anger, and the glare on his left eye was nothing short of terrifying. The fact that he only had one good eye left did nothing to lessen the intimidation of his glare; if anything, it made it even more intimidating.
“I will not repeat my order. Go.”
The boy in front of him nods nervously, head bowed down and metaphorical tail tucked between his legs as he quickly scurries out of the room. Once Levi hears the soft click of the door shutting, he takes a deep breath and lets his body slump into his chair.
That was the fifth caretaker he’d kicked out this month. He wasn’t picky, he tells himself; he just had standards. Standards that apparently these damned amateurs they kept sending him couldn’t meet.
Briefly, his conscience contradicts him; the image of a certain top medic popping in his mind, one that he hadn’t spoken to in almost a month since they dropped him out of the blue. Maybe, just maybe, he was being picky. With a dash of passive aggressive and a sprinkle of butthurt. But Levi quickly brushes that thought aside when he remembers the incompetence of all his recent caretakers.
That was definitely it. He wasn’t petty, all his caretakers were simply idiots.
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The captain hears three loud knocks on his wooden door, and he grits his teeth as he mentally prepares himself for whatever fuckery the clown caretaker they assigned to him was about to do this time. True to his words, Levi did end up breaking a rib from how heavy handed the last one was, and though he knew it was partially because his body was still quite fragile, it didn’t hurt his request for a new medic.
“Name and business.”
“Y/N L/N. I’m here to do your daily checkup.”
Levi feels his eyes widen and heart speed up, and he once again rushes to hide all the papers scribbled with your name as he shoves them into his desk drawer. He composes himself, trying to appear uninterested and professional as he speaks.
“Come in.”
The door squeaks open and Levi doesn’t bother to hide the way his eyes soften and his shoulders slump in relief as he sees the familiar sight of you. A soft smile dawned on your face as you gently kicked the door close, walking towards his desk and setting down the tray you held in your hands.
“Heard you fired everybody who came after me.” You mused, eyes teasing as you poured him a cup of tea. He didn’t think he’d miss someone pouring him a cup of tea as much as he did now.
“Their tea was shit.” He replies, taking a sip of the warm beverage and holding back his sputter at the god awful taste. “Yours is too.”
You chuckle, picking up the clipboard and pen to start writing for today’s checkup. “Can’t help that I suck at brewing tea.”
“You don’t have to keep making me shit tea anymore. The secret’s out.”
You freeze in your spot, eyes widening for a fraction of a second before you nervously clear your throat. Levi definitely noticed.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I know you own the tea shop, Y/N. Stop lying.”
You let out an irritated sigh. “Hange told you, didn’t they?”
“Yep.” He replies, popping the ‘p’.
I’m going to fucking kill Hange, you think to yourself, silently gathering your composure once more. Levi watches you intently, continuing to sip on the terrible tea before deciding that he’d assaulted his taste buds enough and placing it down.
“Why’d you do it?” You hear him ask. “And don’t lie to me. You’re not the only one who’s gotten better at spotting lies.”
Why’d you brew shitty him tea? Is he that affected by it?
Your reply was already on the tip of your tongue, head glancing up from your clipboard to say your answer. But your words don’t come out and your mind suddenly cleared when you saw the look in his eye.
Levi’s eyes were nothing short of gorgeous; a beautiful gunmetal gray with a gaze deadly enough to kill a man with one mere look. But right now, even though they were schooled into his usual look of disinterest, you could see him... wavering. A mix of unanswered questions, curiosity, and— for the briefest second you swore you saw— hurt.
“I take it you’re not asking me why I brewed you crappy tea for the past three months?”
Levi clicks his tongue in irritation. “No, you idiot. I’m asking you why you left out of the blue. If you had a problem you could’ve brought it up with me—“
“No!” You quickly interrupt. “No, god no, you’re perfect.”
The captain’s eyes widen, and you suddenly realize the words you’d spoken as you quickly try to explain before Levi could interject.
“There was no problem, okay? I didn’t request to be reassigned because I had a problem. It’s quite the opposite, actually.” You murmur.
He eyes you curiously.
“What do you mean?”
“I think I have a solution. May I?” You gesture, asking if you could sit on his desk. Levi nods, not understanding why you needed permission now when you’ve done it of your own volition countless times before, but he suddenly understands when you sit directly in front him and not across from him like you usually would.
He watches as you pull a small brown box from your jacket, placing it down onto his desk before opening it. Levi is quiet as he eyes the item inside.
“It’s just a prototype for now. I was hoping to carve out a better one in my free time, one that would be a custom fit, but my free time kinda went flying out the window when you started firing people left and right until no one would accept you but me.”
You pick up the wooden prosthetic fingers and gently place them onto his desk. Your hand opens palm up, waiting for Levi to be comfortable enough to lend his hand to you, and he does so silently.
“The prosthetic’s made from redwood and the joints are connected by small metal rods. It’s light and durable, and I weatherproofed it so it wouldn’t break down so easily when you use them.” You explain, unwrapping the bandages around his hand. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out the concept, actually. I just took a pair of standard issue Survey Corps gloves and cut out all the fingers. Then, y’know, attached the wooden fingers to where the pointer and middle should be.”
Levi could only nod. You weren’t sure if his silence was good or bad and you couldn’t read his look. But Levi— Levi was speechless. In his mind, he dared not speak in fear of looking like a fool. Especially not in front of the person who gave back a piece of himself (quite literally, at that.)
He tenderly looks at the way you fitted the prosthetics onto his own hand, fastening brown leather straps around his wrists to secure the glove. The minute the glove is on and he sees all five fingers for the first time since the explosion, he feels like he’s about to cry.
“I had Hange help me with the anatomy so you could still bend them as you would normal fingers. I couldn’t figure out how to make them move on their own though, so you’d have to manually do that yourself.”
To demonstrate, you bend one of the prosthetics, the wood imitating the bend of his finger but not springing back up despite his brain commanding it to do so. You watch intently as he fumbles around with his hand, moving the fingers about. The wonder and astonishment in his usually unimpressed eye didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it spurred  you to continue on.
“Unfortunately, it’s not strong enough to flick the switches on ODM gear. You still have to relearn how to hold your blades when you’re cleared for training again.” You say regrettably. “But it’s strong enough to hold a pen.”
Your hand reaches for the forgotten quill across his desk, dipping it in the inkwell before offering it to him with a small smile. Levi slowly takes it, still speechless, as he readjusts his prosthetic to hold the quill and write.
His writing is still shit, undoubtedly; still no better than chicken scratches as he messily writes down the words. But god, the sight of the indiscernible handwriting next to five fingers brought tears to his eyes as he finally finished writing his name. The slightly legible letters of ‘Levi Ackerman’ stared back at him.
Levi couldn’t hold it back anymore. He immediately set the quill down before standing up to engross you in a warm embrace. You tense in his arms, not used to Levi willingly initiating any form of physical touch at all. But as he tucks his head into the curve of your neck and his shoulders start shaking, splotches of wet dripping onto your collarbones, you feel your arms encircle his waist, bringing him closer as you whisper sweet nothings into his ear and let him cry in peace.
Your hands ran through his scalp, willing him to calm down. Though normally the sight of a crying Captain Levi was something you never thought you’d see, you couldn’t help but feel honored he chose to share this rare moment of vulnerability with you.
You let him cry, still holding onto him, giving him his time. Briefly, you wonder what he was thinking. What pushed him to tears? Did the captain ever let himself mourn his losses? Does he mourn his friends, his family, the little pieces of himself that he’d lost along the way?
Though you had a million questions in your mind you dared not pry as you continued to comfort the weeping man in front of you.
Finally, after a few moments of nothing but silent sniffles and your sweet words, Levi finds it in himself to finally speak.
“Thank you, Y/N.”
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Night had fallen around the base, encasing the world in darkness that beckons slumber. Levi continued to stay awake, still in his office, staring at the prosthetic you had given him hours before.
Curiously, he feels himself form his right hand into a fist, not surprised that the two wooden fingers didn’t comply like the rest. It was imperfect and he himself thought it could use some tiny adjustments for the sake of comfort— something he definitely would bring up to you as requested.
And yet, despite knowing his ‘fingers’ were nothing but wood, leather and metal, he couldn’t help but think it was the best thing he could ever ask for. 
Silently, under the lone glowing light of his oil lamp, Levi pulls out a blank sheet of paper and begins to turn his feelings into thoughts, thoughts into words, and words into sentences as his quill meets the white surface.
Hours later, he finds himself in front of your quarters, a candle in his left hand while his right held a pristine white envelope. The envelope containing unsaid words, unspoken wishes, and hidden feelings.
Your eyes are sleepy when you answer the door, half lidded and hair a mess when his knocks had woken you from your slumber. You rub your eye, adjusting to the light as you stare at the person in front of you.
“Captain?” You ask, stifling a yawn. “What’re you doing here so late?”
He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he opts to look at you with an unreadable expression as he asks, “Can I come in?”
You stare at him for a few seconds more, and the thought of you slamming the door on his face crossed Levi’s mind; but that didn’t happen. Rather, you nodded and ushered him inside your bedroom, closing the door behind him as you once again flopped onto your bed. 
He places the candle down on your bedside table and now he was unsure what to do. He had a plan— or, he thought he had a plan— but awkwardly standing in your room in the middle of the night wasn’t part of it.
Quietly, you chuckle at the sight of Humanity’s Strongest looking so odd and out of place, unsure and slightly panicked. You pat the spot next to you, inviting him to sit, and he complies.
Both of you had your knees pulled up to your chests and you were thankful when you noticed Levi had taken his shoes off before sitting on the bed. A comfortable silence encompasses the atmosphere in the dimly lit room. Shoulders touching, heads not daring to turn because of the close proximity. 
From the corner of your eye, Levi looked like he was deep in thought. Not the kind you saw plenty of times in the battlefield or in strategy meetings, not the kind you saw when you entered his office as he hastily tried to hide his mirror. But the kind you saw when he quietly suffered through his own living hell. 
“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, finally breaking the silence. He shakes his head. 
“Well, what brings the mighty Captain Levi to my humble little room?”
“Levi.” 
“What?”
“Call me Levi.” He murmurs, downcast staring intently at the envelope on his lap. “In this room, I’m not your captain. I’m not your patient. I’m not Humanity’s Strongest.”
You feel your eyebrows scrunch as surprise and curiosity paint your face, but not because of the captain’s offer to call him so casually. No— the surprise you showed was because he unclasped the prosthetic you made, not even sparing it a second glance as he carelessly threw it to you, and you barely managed to catch the limbs you’d spent countless hours and sleepless nights to create.
“Levi, what are you—“
“But I’m not a broken teacup for you to fix either.” He says, eyeing the stumps on right hand. “I’m not a doll who’s missing some parts. I’m not a charity case accepting donations.”
You were looking at him now, head turned in his direction as he unclasps his eyepatch and lets it fall onto his lap. He raises his head, eyes making contact with yours.
“I’m just Levi.”
A few moments of silence pass but neither of you look away. The reason why the captain continued to stare wasn’t something you knew. But the reason why you never looked away was because of his eyes. 
Levi’s eyes were still as gorgeous as you remembered them to be. Though his right eye was a different shade from his left, a lighter and paler shade of gray; though it lacked the light and emotions his unharmed eye bore; though it had a jagged scar running through it from where he was hit, you couldn’t help but think that his eyes were still the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen.
Gingerly, you lift up your hand to touch the right side of his face where his battle wounds lie, the prosthetic forgotten as it falls somewhere in the sheets. He doesn’t flinch like he did the first few times you did it, when you reached for his face during checkups to inspect his scars. But it didn’t stop you from asking.
“May I?” 
Levi doesn’t answer. Instead, he brings your hand to rest on his cheek as his head leaned closer to your touch. His eyes closed momentarily, almost as if he were reveling in your warmth. But they opened once more, and you willed yourself not to get lost in the sea of gray.
“You were never a charity case to me, Levi. Or any of the things you just said.”
“Then what am I to you?”
Your heart stops, eyes widening ever so slightly at his question. Would you tell him? No, you couldn’t. Not when—
“Don’t lie to me, Y/N.” His grip on your hand tightens a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to distract you from your thoughts. You realize the hand that held your own against his cheeks was his broken hand, his mutilated hand.
...would you really tell him?
You sigh, eyes finally leaving his. “You’re just another soldier who got hurt from a battle, asking a medic to take the pain away.”
Your hand slips out of his grip and goes back to your side, and you turn away from him once more. 
“Are you lying?” He asks.
“No.”
“Then look into my eyes and tell me what I am to you.”
“I can’t.”
Your voice cracks ever so slightly, hesitant but determined to stick to your words. And Levi knew that he was never going to get an answer. He sighs, shoulders slumping down in defeat. It was now his turn to look away from you, gaze falling to his lap. The envelope holding the letter crinkles and he’s reminded why he’s here.
“I know.” He whispers back. “But do me a favor.”
He doesn’t look your way as he hands you the letter. He doesn’t look your way when you silently took it, eyeing the red wax seal that bore his initials, fingers tracing over the edges before—
“Don’t open it yet. Open it tomorrow morning before you come in for my checkup.”
You only nodded in response. You reached out, placing the envelope on your bedside table before once again sitting next to Levi. Just as you had started, a comfortable silence blankets the atmosphere. Shoulders touching, heads not daring to turn because of the proximity.
But this time, it was he who breaks the silence.
“I don’t know what the future holds.”
“Hm?”
“I don’t know what the future holds.” He repeats. “I could die in action tomorrow and be one of the bodies they wheel back from war, or you could die trying to save someone in the battlefield. Even if neither of us die tomorrow, there’s always a possibility that we’ll die the day after that. And the day after that and the day after that. Such are the risks of our jobs.”
He takes a deep breath. “But tonight, I don’t want to focus on tomorrow. I don’t want to focus on what the future holds. I don’t want to focus on titans or enemy troops or looking after my team.”
“Then what do you want?” 
“You.” 
Your eyes soften. “But what am I to you?”
You didn’t know what to expect, what his answer may be. But you know you didn’t expect it when Levi’s fingers gently grabbed your chin and coaxed your head to look in his direction. You didn’t expect it when you opened your eyes and met his, his warm palm resting on your cheek. And what you didn’t expect most was for his eyes to look at you with so much love, so much care and adoration. Gone were the facades of boredom and disinterest; the stoicness and detachment they always seemed to reflect. All there was left was softness, warmth, and what seemed to be the unmistakable swirls of vulnerability.
“You’re just another medic too busy putting other peoples’ lives before your own.”
“Are you lying?” 
“No.” He whispers. “But you make me want to plan for a future I know we won’t have— a future we can’t have.” 
And for the first time, you knew he meant it. You knew what he meant. 
In your line of work full of death and violence and risks almost too big to take. In what you once thought was your little world, turning out to be too big for you to handle. In your personal brand of hell where tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed, and loss was the only constant— it was enough. This small moment was enough.
“You have the most beautiful eyes.” You whispered, entranced. A soft chuckle leaves Levi’s lips, eyes turning into crescent moons so fitting of his gray orbs and your heart twitches at the sight and sound of his melodious laughter.
His thumb brushes over your cheek and your eyes meet his once again, the beautiful shades of gray staring you back. You didn’t know who did it first but at this point you didn’t care enough to find out because slowly, you both leaned in. Slowly, you both closed your eyes. And slowly, you both tilted your heads.
He pauses.
“May I?” Levi asks, lips merely inches away from yours. You nod.
“You may.”
And suddenly, the distance between your lips was no more.
There were no fireworks, no explosions in your heart or butterflies in your belly. There was no feeling of cloud nine, no feeling of want or need. There was only warmth in your chest, the feeling of a small fireplace crackling and glowing in the coldness of the night. The feeling of warm sheets and warm bodies cuddled up in an embrace.
Home. 
The feeling of home.
Because that’s what you were to Levi, and what Levi was to you.
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“Name and business.”
“Y/N L/N. I’m here for your routine checkup.”
“Come in.”
As the door opens and you set the tray down on his desk, hands gently holding the kettle to pour him his cup of tea, you noticed that Levi was still trying to write. But what caught your attention wasn’t the fact that it was no longer his name he tried to scribble, opting to write down complete sentences. What caught your attention was that he was wearing his prosthetics, and his eyepatch wasn’t on.
“Did you read the letter?” He asks. His hands were still writing and his eyes were still staring at the papers in front of him. But you could tell he was anxious.
“Yes.” You simply reply, and he nods.
“Good.”
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shotosprincess · 3 years
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♡ dating the bnha boys — hcs
。・:*:・-: ✧ :,。・:*:・゚☆ 。・:*:・-: ✧ :,。・:*:・゚☆
➪ shoto todoroki
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pls you’ve prolly been terrified of him for a while prior bc of how ?? talented ?? the mf is ??
but mans prolly saved you at some point and there was this lingering stare you two shared before he left you at recovery girls’ office; were you reading too far into things ?
spoiler alert: you weren’t.
anYWAYS-
he’s the kind of boyfriend to tenderly brush your hair for you and attempt to learn how to tie and braid your hair up in cute ,, simple designs !!
he’d always be ready with little things you’re constantly forgetting; extra snacks,, water,, a fully charged portable charger ,, trust me when i say that man is pREPARED- after all ,, he needs to be ready with everything to take care of his little sweetheart ,, does he not ?
ONLY TWO POINTS IN AND IM ALREADY CRYING BC I LOVE HIM SM BYE BYE BYE
at some point he’d find you sitting on the roof by yourself late at night,, only to stay with you and let you fall asleep on his chest as he drapes a blanket over you and heats it up a lil with his quirk
OKAY YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT THAT MAN WOULDNT HOLD THE DOOR OPEN FOR YOU AT ALL TIMES AND WOULD SOMETIMES EVEN GET LOWKEYHIGHKEY KINDA SAD WHEN YOU DONT LET HIM
prolly bc he just wants to prove to you that he can be useful
pls just let the man know he’s useful and important he never shows it directly but he needs the reassurance—
he’d give you a warm massage w his quirk whenever you’re in pain :”)
HIDES AND PROTECTS YOU FROM MINETA BC HE KNOWS DAMN WELL WHAT THAT LITTLE SHIT FANTASIZES ABOUT
loves heating//cooling things for you ,, like instant noodles or ice packs !!
surprises you w jewelry that have his initials on them !!
GIVES THE BEST CUDDLES I SWEAR
would hold an umbrella for u while you loop your arm into his as the two of you walk home through the light rain :”)
cries into your chest sometimes after youve fallen asleep bc it’s late nights like these when he reflects on just how lucky of a guy he is to have you— it’s hard for him to articulate it directly ,, but when he does fully open up to you ab it ,, you end up crying too .
WOULD 110% MAKE THE TWO OF YOU YOUR OWN PERSONAL LIL ICE RINK AND TEACH YOU HOW TO SKATE // DO FUN FIGURE SKATING DUOS WITH YOU
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➪ katsuki bakugou
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prolly got with you initially bc of a dare ( and he nEVER passes up a dare ) ,, but eventually those feelings started to become real and honestly ? it kinda scared the shit outta him . he didn’t know why ,, but for some reason he didnt actually want to leave .
OKAY LARA JEAN AND PETER MF KAVINSKY TYPE BEAT ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ HIT US WITH THE FAKE RELATIONSHIP TO REAL RELATIONSHIP TROPE YESYESYES
teasingly-mean nicknames = his love language . enough said .
AGGRESSIVE !! KISSES !! ALL !! THE DAMN !! TIME !!
makes you wear his hoodie whenever you show even the sLIGHTEST hint at being cold
he just rly wants to see you in his clothes
he’s so clueless on how to do this whole boyfriend thing ,, but he’s definitely trying bc it’s for you :”)
watches and tries so desperately to copy all the cute couples in the movies you guys watch together
“ roses...do you want roses ? “ “ what ? “ “ the guy in the movie gave her roses...do you want roses too ? “
but at the end of the day you just appreciate him for who he is and that’s more than enough for you :”)
PLS DENKI AND KIRI ARE CONSTANTLY SHOCKED AT HOW MUCH HE’S TRYING FOR YOU
will take any and every opportunity to show off his strength and quirk to you <3
now we all know this man gets jealous hella easily ,, and its no different w relationships :”) he’d constantly make it a point to hold you extra close to him in public ,, show you off on social media and call you by a nickname//petname whenever possible just to reiterate to ppl the fact that you’re his and he’s yours
WOULD LET YOU SIT ON HIS LAP AND DO HIS EYELINER AT 2AM PURELY BC YOU GOT BORED
pls i could rly see myself doing that i wont lie
honestly sometimes he forgets himself and his temper gets a little out of hand ,, but the second he sees his feral reflection in your fearful eyes,, he pulls you to his chest and apologizes profusely :”))
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➪ denki kaminari
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MF PROLLY GOT WITH YOU BC OF A RIGGED GAME OF SPIN THE BOTTLE AT MINA’S PLACE I CANNOT SEE ANYTH HAPPENING OTHERWISE
one tiny kiss turned into two ,, which turned into three ,, and before you knew it ,, the both of you were spilling out the pent up feelings you had for one another all this time—
mina never shuts up ab it ,, she’s so proud of her matchmaking skills
when the power goes out during a storm ,, he holds onto you tight and plays w your hair as he uses his quirk to turn things back on ,,, “ shhh it’s ok,, i’m here “
will do anything and everything to make you smile <3
he has a lil album in his camera roll with all his favourite pictures of you ,, which is practically just all of them tbh ♡´・ᴗ・`♡
HE LOVES SHOWING YOU OFF IN THE MOST WHOLESOME WAY POSSIBLE !!
super energetic n bubbly but at the end of your dates he passes out right away in your arms
you make sure to wrap him up in blankets and give him an overload of kisses after he’s rly asleep though
will work embarrassingly hard to win you stuffed animals at the fair !! it doesn’t always work ,, but it’s cute nontheless <3
some of the staff and children at the fairs get pissed off but oh well ,,, what you do for love
pls he prolly makes you lil bento boxes for lunch every now and then ( ESPECIALLY DURING EXAM WEEK ) w tiny notes and designs taped on them
constantly calls you “ shawty “ lowkey un ironically and dice rolls in ur direction whenever he sees you ,,, you just end up laughing and playfully punching him
I JUST KNOW HE DOES THE F BOY LIP BITE FACE CONSTANTLY
ITS AN ADDICTION FOR HIM I SWEAR
SUPER CLINGY BUT IN THE CUTEST WAY AAAA
LIL STICKY NOTE LOVE LETTERS FROM HIM IN YOUR LOCKER EVERY !! MF !! DAY !!!
you both agreed that at home cozy netflix dates w microwave popcorn and fuzzy blankets >>> movie theatre dates
110% made a playlist for you at some point when he crushed on you from afar and shared it w you after you started dating
he made a collaborative playlist for yall AND multiple playlists of songs that remind him of you afterwards
pls i just kNOW this man’s love language is making playlists
theyre prolly all categorized by mood or smth too w the cutest covers ever pls
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➪ ejirou kirishima
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you initially met him bc he was hella upset and alone this one time and you were the only one to notice and be there for him bc he ran away from everyone else to hide the “ uNmanLy “ tears :”))
takes you w him on his lil gym visits ,, hypes you up with every little thing u accomplish !!
constantly teasing bakugou with how he’s able to pull you and how lucky he is to have you
bakugou gets hella annoyed most of the time and just blasts him away-
idk bro i just feel like kiri prolly calls you “ adorable “ alot i wont lie-
LOVES HAND HOLDING,, takes any opportunity to hold ur hand and trace lil casual patterns across your knuckles w his thumb
sometimes he’ll even draw lil hearts on your hand
play fighting but sometimes the two of you get too carried away and he actually loses half of the time-
LATE NIGHT GAME NIGHTS WITH HIM AND THE BAKUSQUAD,, he loves being on the team against you so he can get all competitive
OK HEAR ME OUT;;;; DANCE BATTLES W HIM AS YOUR PARTNER AGAINST RANDOM PPL AT PARTIES
mans gets hella insecure ab himself sometimes ,, so he loves doing lil things for you !! opening a can ,, pulling the blanket over you ,, zipping up your jacket <33
STOP WAIT THATS SO CUTE BYE I WANT THAT
lets you dye his hair—THATS HOW MUCH HE TRUSTS YOU BYE
pls yall prolly aggressively play wii sports and just dance against one another on a regular basis;; it’s literally your thing and you cannot tell me otherwise ahjdjfj
pls i just KNOW this man’s an overly passionate wii player
will wrap his arms around your waist and hug u from behind as you make breakfast
WOULD WEAR MATCHING EARRINGS W YOU IF ITS FOR YOU
slow dances in the living room at midnight w you !!
eventually as you spent more time together ,,, you were able to change his idea of “ manliness “ ,, and he was able to realize that manliness is not equivalent to stoicism and that expressing ur feelings is still totally manly and totally valid !! <33
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dilftaroooo · 3 years
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So like….. Can you just picture Choso as a tattoo artist? Like imagine always going to him cause y’all got big ass sexual tension and one night you’re like his last client and no one in the building but y’all. And then it goes from there🧍🏾‍♀️
tags: sexual tension, tat artist choso 🤤🤤, friends with benefits (?).
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ARF another choso thirst ARF ARF and he’s a tattoo artist?! BARK BARK SNARL BITE
p.s this is pretty long for a thirst post but i was kinda in the moment lmfaooo 😭
you and choso known each other for quite a long time (you’ve been friends since middle school) so you both know things about each other that most don’t (not even your own parents). but as the years build up and the both of you become more aware and conscious of each other’s presence, things start to get a liiittle.... how should i say it... sexually awkward.
it’s like whenever you two are near your muscles go tense and conversations are much shorter than usual — you can barely even keep eye contact. you can’t even touch each other without feeling that familiar warm buzz electrocute your bodies and the sweat drops form at your temples.
both of you already figured what was the cause of all this tension, the answer was as clear as glass, the only problem was blatantly admitting to your sexual frustration. i mean, you guys were friends for so long (we’re talkin’ 10+ years here), to just change the relationship from something platonic to something imbued with sex and indecency is such a big gap of your morals.
but what is in must come out and at the tattoo parlor is where it’ll make its debut 😼
the night was exceptionally cold — enough to make anyone in a wool sweater shiver. the temperature must’ve been at least below 60 degrees. coworkers who resided in the shop bickered about the weather, cursing the broken heater the manager refused to get fixed. it was just so fucking cold. but not to you and choso.
choso was working on a tattoo you had appointed for a couple weeks ago. your first tattoo. ofc you trusted him to do it for you, he was skilled at what he did (you saw a whole bunch of his works and they’re absolutely phenomenal). you’re surprised you even got the chance to be his client despite how many ppl always book for him.
the nippy air was subsided by the growing warmth in your bodies. he was closing in on you as he tried to focus on his pen pricking your skin with black ink and the agility of his hand but all he thought about was how smooth your skin looked or how he’d hear your faint moans emit from your throat whenever he massaged the bare area of your leg with his hand (a gesture to comfort you) — both of you were so taut.
and this man would look deep in your eyes, lust not even discreet or hidden in the slightest, and he’d ask, “are you ok?” in his deep fucking voice. christ, after all these years how did you not realize the seductive bass in his tone? you could already feel your sex pulsing from the sound.
“y-yeah.” a lie. you both know it but you continue to torture yourselves until the caresses become frequent and the stares are extended and the space between you is no more. that is when it all snaps.
“y/n.... im done-” “i want you.” “thought you’d never admit it.”
choso pounces on your figure, making sure not to interfere with the new body art that rested on your thigh. sloppy kisses are exchanged, frantic hands glide over ever slope of your bodies, clothes hastily torn off. yall are nothing but a bunch of horn dogs in a room.
choso doesn’t even know where to begin, hesitantly starting at your neck and trailing down to your heaving chest, suckling on the flesh of your breasts and the perkiness of your nipples, and all the way down to your heat — you were already sopping wet because of him.
“i need you, choso.” “i do too.” “-need you inside me.” “i hear you loud and clear, princess.”
the both of yall get it on and choso almost loses his job bc of it lmao
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254 notes · View notes
binunus · 3 years
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afk | yoon sanha (m)
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a/n y..oon...sanha...really do be acting up...also idk why but whenever I think of husband!sanha I can’t seem to write anything which is why I’ve been staring at this request literally for the longest time, but when I think of like just bf!sanha I get so many ideas...is it me? am I just weird?? maybe it’s bc I’m literally not in a headspace to think about marriage or commitment sksksk but uh yeah thank you for coming to my ted talk
{request: anther sanha husband smut please? 🥺 the one u wrote was so good ‘m not a creative person so the plot coulld be as you wish 😼}
→ pairing: idol bf!sanha x f!reader
→ genre: fluff, smut
→ tw: unprotected sex (conceal before you feel loves), reader riding sanha as he’s playing his game oops...and 00 line is on the other end hehe, dirty talk?? well...sanha tried okay, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, embarrassment
→ word count: 4k _____________________________________________
*afk → away from keyboard* for all my non-gamers :) I’m not a gamer, I just live with them...
Your POV
You were ecstatic, a little jump in your step as you neared your boyfriend’s dorm. You haven’t seen him in almost a month due to his busy schedule and comeback preparations. You were excited for him and his group, one of the perks of dating an idol member was knowing the secrets and spoilers of his plans long before they were revealed to the public. But with those perks also came the disadvantages of not being able to see your boyfriend as much as you’d like to, or even be open with your relationship in general. 
Anyway, you were excited to see him. The text messages, phone calls, and FaceTimes could only satisfy you for so long, seeing Sanha in person was a completely different story. The last time you saw him was before he dyed his hair from black to the sleek dark red that it was now. 
As soon as you received the text from your boyfriend asking if you were free to come over, you literally dropped everything that you were doing and got dressed to leave your apartment. You arrived at his dorm within thirty minutes, not wasting any precious time that you could be spending with him.
You were warmly greeted by their eldest, Myungjun’s excited tone alerting the others about your appearance. “y/n! We haven’t seen you in so long!”
You laughed and wrapped your arms around him in a hug, giggling as he lifted your body and shook you around, “I know, oppa! It’s so good to see you! You look so good! I’m excited for your album to come out.”
“Oh you cutie, stop it.” He beamed, patting your head as he set you down. “Sanha’s playing games in his room right now. If you get bored of him, just come find me and I’ll entertain you.”
“Will do oppa,” You chuckled as you bounced in the direction of Sanha’s bedroom. Your heart rapidly beating in your chest as you opened the door, revealing your 6′1 sweet boyfriend who was sitting intently on his gaming chair. You felt the oxygen knocked away from your lungs as he turned his maroon head of hair to face you. You almost had to do a double take from actually seeing his new hair color in person. Sure he’s sent you a bunch of pictures as soon as he dyed it and you’ve seen it through video calls, but wow...was this good looking man really your boyfriend?
He held his hand out to you, smiling as you approached him. He moved the mic away from his mouth before kissing the back of your hand, “Hey baby, I’m just playing a match real quick and then I’m all yours, okay?”
You nodded excitedly and leaned in to press a kiss on the cheek which wasn’t being covered by his headset. Sanha squeezed your hand affectionately before you hopped on his bed, pulling out your phone to pass the time while you waited for him to finish his match. Every now and then, you would look over to observe him and his game. You noticed that even his gaming setup has changed in the past month you haven’t seen each other, he was finally using the light-up keyboard you gifted him for your one year anniversary.
You could vaguely hear his friends through the headset, chuckling at his conversations with the esteemed ‘00 line. You found yourself grinning as Sanha furiously clicked away at the keyboard, even though your boyfriend is a famous idol, at the end of the day he was still just a regular young adult at heart who loved playing games.
You understood that this was probably one of his only ways of de-stressing as of recent, so you were pretty lenient about his gaming habits...
Until one match turned into two, which turned into three, and before you knew it, you’ve been waiting on his bed -- affection-starved -- for almost two hours. 
Your lips pursed in annoyance, huffing as you locked your phone and tossed it aside somewhere on his bed, standing to get some water. Sanha turned his head at your movement, his mouth opening a bit in shock as he watched you leave his room. At that moment, he knew your patience was running thin.
You saw Jinwoo and Bin in the kitchen, the two smiling as you joined them. You found yourself pouting as you waddled into Jinwoo’s arms which opened in a welcoming hug. With dating Sanha, you also had the opportunity of getting to know his group, gaining five older brothers who treated you like one of their own. You got babied by the five of them a lot since you were dating their baby.
You let out a sigh as you retrieved a glass of water, resting your head on Jinwoo’s shoulder as you took small sips. You’ve received more affection from the rest of Astro than you have from your own boyfriend during this whole visit so far. Bin cooed as he pinched your cheek, “Why do you look so upset?”
You rolled your eyes as you took another sip, “Sanha’s been playing his game for the past 2 hours, I don’t even know why he asked me to come over if he wasn’t at least going to talk to me.”
Jinwoo gave you a sympathetic smile, patting your head as he nodded, “You know how he is y/n. When he doesn’t have a schedule or practice, he’s practically glued to his computer chair.”
You groaned and finished the rest of your water, placing the glass in the sink before you rested your hands on your hips, “If he doesn’t stop playing after this match, I’m literally leaving.”
The two elder boys laughed, respectively patting your shoulder and rubbing your back. Bin chuckled, “You do what you have to do. You know, scold him for us too. His eyes are gonna go bad from looking at that monitor too much.”
You nodded, asking them to wish you luck as you went back into Sanha’s room. When you opened the door, you noticed his chair turned around so that his back was to the desk, the monitor on the loading screen, and Sanha on his phone. He looked up with that big puppy expression on his face when he knew he’s did something wrong. He quickly placed his phone on the desk, pulling you in towards him as soon as you were in arm’s reach. He gently squeezed your hands as you stood in between his legs, resting your weight on one foot. “I’m sorry, baby.”
You narrowed your eyes in the slightest, “And what are you sorry for?”
“For ignoring you and just playing my game...” Sanha said quietly hugging your waist. He nuzzled his face against your stomach as your hands went up to play with his hair, all annoyance fizzling away in an instant. Damn, he was too cute for you to stay mad at him. You sighed and kissed the crown of his head, “Sanha, we haven’t seen in each other in so long because of your comeback. If you want to invite me over, I sort of hope that we’re spending time together and I’m not just watching you play...is your game really that much more interesting than me?”
He shook his head against your body, his voice muffled as he immediately said no. The tiniest of smiles crept its way onto your face, endeared at how cute your boyfriend was.
And then you heard his best friend through the headset, ruining the soft mood in an instant. “Sanha load up, c’mon where are you?”
You let out a sigh, God dammit Bomin.
Sanha lifted his head to meet your eyes, he sensed your frustration again immediately. You pursed your lips, reading the conflict swimming through his pupils. You knew that he wanted to keep playing, but he didn’t wanna make you mad. And in Sanha’s perspective, he did honestly plan to spend time with you when he invited you over, but then Daehwi asked him to play a round and when he gets immersed in his game, he needs to play until he’s literally sick of it for the day. “Baby..?”
You averted your gaze for a moment in thought, an idea popping into your head. Humming, your fingers twirled a strand of his hair, “You can keep playing, baby.”
Sanha blinked at you in surprise, his eyes widening, “Really? You won’t get mad if--”
“But! I’m sitting on your lap. I haven’t gotten any cuddles from you in at least three weeks and I’m not going back to your bed without you.”
He nodded eagerly, satisfied with the win-win situation. Sanha grinned patting his lap as he spread his legs to give you room. You chuckled, maneuvering your body through the space of his chair as you got seated atop his thighs, both of you face to face. By habit, Sanha’s hands rested at your waist, smiling as he pulled you into a sweet kiss. You felt the butterflies flutter in your stomach at the action, responding instantly. Your lips formed a little pout when he pulled away, your boyfriend smiling cheekily as he nuzzled his nose against yours, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” You said before resting your head on his shoulder, leaning your body weight on his chest as a means to get as close to him as you possibly could. Sanha rubbed the skin of your waist affectionately before reaching for the headset and unmuting himself, “Bomin, I’m here.”
“Hey! What took you so long?”
“Chill, y/n’s here.” He said, glancing at you with a smile, “She can hear you by the way.”
“Yeah so watch your mouth, Bomin.” You said jokingly, turning your head briefly to speak into the microphone. Sanha grinned, pressing a kiss to your cheek as Bomin laughed through the headset. You heard Bomin -- along with Sanha’s other friends -- greet you, chuckling as your head returned to its spot on Sanha’s shoulder. 
You let your boyfriend play one match peacefully, still enjoying finally being in his embrace. You closed your eyes, taking in the comforting scent of Sanha’s detergent and let yourself relax for a short while. When he got killed during the first match, his arms immediately wrapped around your waist, squeezing your body tightly as he kissed your temple. You hummed, listening as he watched and conversed with the others who were still alive.
It was then that you noticed the slight new definition of his muscles, the gears in your brain turning as you thought about how to proceed with your plan. Although you were literally on top of him right now, the majority of Sanha’s attention span was focused on his monitor, so you knew he couldn’t sense the growing arousal in your mind. 
Early into his second match, you subtly shifted your ass around on his lap, making it seem like you were trying to readjust into a more comfortable position. At the same time, you moved your head to his other shoulder, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you did so. Your boyfriend smiled at you, still oblivious to what you were trying to do. 
And then your hands gently started rubbing at his sides, the touch featherlike as you began to press kisses in the crook of his neck. You felt Sanha tense in the slightest as he quickly pressed the mute button on his mic, “Baby...what are you doing?”
“Hm?” You asked not even bothering to lift your head, “I’m kissing you, can I not?”
The male closed his eyes as he let out a muffled groan, his body reacting immediately to your ministrations, “y/n, are you trying to make me moan into the mic while I’m playing with the guys?”
You chuckled dryly as you started to start to suck on his skin, not hard enough to leave a mark because you knew his stylists would literally kill you if you did, but enough for him to get affected. And he did. 
Sanha let out a breathy moan, subconsciously tilting his head so that you had more access.
“You ignored me for two hours baby. Since you wanna keep playing your game while I’m here, you’re gonna have to do so while I’m making you feel good. Now unmute and keep doing your thing.”
He bit his lip, narrowing his eyes at you as you moved your ass directly over his crotch, which was quickly getting hard. He was about to say something, but was cut off by Daehwi asking him where he was, Sanha cursing internally as he pressed unmute and responded. You smirked against his skin, still trailing kisses along his neck and intending to move up his jawline -- which had definitely gotten sharper since the last time you saw him.
Sanha tried his best, you could see how hard he was fighting against your temptations. Admittedly, you were a bit impressed with how well he was masking what was going on to his friends. 
But you were a brat and you wanted to see your boyfriend’s self-restraint crumble. He managed to get through one match, trying to compromise with you once the display showed the loading screen, “Fuck, baby, I’m done. I can’t play anymore.”
You smiled at him as you got off his lap, going over to lock his door. Sanha sighed in relief, getting ready to tell his friends that he was logging off for the night, until you held your finger up at him, confusion on his features. Casually, you pulled down your pants and underwear, placing them to the side as you leaned down for a kiss. Your hands reached for the waistband of his sweats, Sanha lifting up his hips to help you pull the fabric down his legs.
“You’re gonna play one more game, baby.” You whispered against his mouth, the boy sighing in frustration as you climbed back onto his lap. His cock was already hard from all your grinding, he could not believe you were teasing him like this right now. 
You were soaked, you knew that Sanha would slide right in without any resistance. You let out a sharp inhale as you lined yourself up with his cock, burying your face in his shoulder as you sat down in one go. The two of you let out a synchronized groan at the feeling, it had been too long since you last had sex. “Shit, y/n, you’re so fucking tight--I-fuck can’t we just take this to my bed?”
“No,” You said, voice shaky as you tried to calm yourself down from the initial intrusion. “This is payback for making me wait so long.”
Sanha’s hands gripped the meat of your ass, squeezing as he thrusted into you just once, “God, you do realize we’re both gonna suffer if you make me play another round.”
“You’re going to suffer more than I am,” You said devilishly as you unmuted his mic, “Sorry boys, Sanha went to the bathroom but he’s back now.”
He shot you glare, reluctantly removing his hands from your ass as he wore his headset again, “Guys, I think this is gonna be my last game, I’m getting pretty tired.”
“You know, I can’t believe y/n really just let you play with us this whole time. That’s love right there.”
“You’re a real one, y/n!”
“Sanha doesn’t deserve you, y/n!”
You laughed into the mic, sweetly responding to Sanha’s friends as you clenched your walls around his cock, watching with a lustful glint in your eyes at the contortion of pleasure on his face, his teeth harshly dug into his bottom lip to prevent any sounds from escaping.
“C’mon, start game.” Sanha said shortly, the grip on his mouse tightening as you clenched again. You stayed still for the first couple of minutes, letting Sanha adjust and play his game so that his friends wouldn’t be able to tell that something explicit was happening on his side of the screen. 
Of course all Sanha could think about right now was the way your walls just sucked him in so nicely, wanting nothing more than to pin you to his bed and fuck into you with no restraints. But he knew that you wouldn’t let him do that until he finished his match, so he tried to focus on completing this game as fast as he could. 
He felt himself freezing as you started to kiss his neck again, mentally telling himself to stay calm and not make a noise. As soon as his guard was down, you lifted your hips so that only the head of his cock was in your cunt before slamming your ass down on his lap, a loud slap sounding from the contact of your skins. Sanha lurched forward, a strangled moan fighting in his throat as you tightly clenched your walls, squeezing his cock. 
“Woah-are you okay, Sanha? What happened?”
“Y-yeah, I hit my knee against the d-desk,” He stuttered a lie, one of his hands gripping your waist as you started to slowly fuck yourself on him. It was getting harder for you to conceal your moans, burying your face in his shoulder as you tried to chase your high, this position allowing Sanha to hit so deep in your cunt.
His eyes flickered back and forth between the screen and you riding his cock, his legs subconsciously spreading as far as the chair allowed him. Sanha knew it was over for him when you lifted yourself off his chest, your eyes blown wide with lust as one of your hands fisted the bottom of his shirt, the other sneaking down to where the two of you were connected, making contact with your clit. You threw your head back at the added sensation, your mouth opening in a silent moan as you clenched your walls again.
“Sanha, where are you? Why are you standing still--”
“Fuck--AFK guys, AFK!” Sanha said hurriedly, throwing his headset off as he muted his mic. He pulled you in for a searing kiss, moving his lips fiercely against yours as you grabbed at his shoulders. “You’re fucking evil.”
“That’s what you get for not paying attention to me,” You panted against his mouth, sluggishly getting off his lap. Sanha practically kicked his gaming chair back as he towered over you, removing both of your shirts before he pushed you down on his bed. He pulled your thighs open, positioning his cock at your entrance. “Fuck, do you know how hard it was to not fuck you while I was playing?”
You whined as he moved his tip up and down your slit, tapping the head at your sensitive bud. “Now you have all my attention, baby.”
The two of you moaned loudly as he sheathed himself in your cunt, momentarily forgetting that there were five other inhabitants of his dorm. Sanha started a brutal pace from the beginning, thrusting into you with no restraints. Your hands tangled themselves in his hair as you pulled him down for a kiss, muffling your moans against his mouth.
“Mmmf, Sanha--”
He groaned, biting your bottom lip before lifting your thighs so that your legs hung from his shoulder, allowing him to penetrate even deeper in your cunt, “Shit, I missed your pussy baby. You’re fucking dripping on my sheets, God.”
His hands flew to your chest, roughly groping your breasts as he used it for leverage to fuck into you at a faster pace. The sounds in his room were obscene, the squelch of your arousal and the smack of his balls hitting your ass drowning out anything else. 
Sanha felt like he was drunk on your cunt, breathing heavily as he tried to get more sounds out of you, your moans music to his ears. He hissed as your nails clawed at his arms, a telltale sign that you were nearing your end. “S-Sanha, I-fuck!”
“Are you close, baby?” He asked authoritatively, his heart swelling as you nodded with a whine, your hands scrambling to feel every inch of his skin. You keened as he called your name, commanding you to look at him as you reached your orgasm. 
The tension in your stomach snapped when he snuck a hand down to play at your clit, rubbing it between two of his fingers as he tweaked your nipple, fucking you through your high. Your toes curled in pleasure, legs convulsing as you let out a high-pitched moan. You tried your best to maintain eye contact, but the dizzying euphoria made your lids flutter close, Sanha harshly sucking hickeys in your neck as he too, chased, his high. 
He cursed, still drawing circles on your clit as he rutted his hips into yours. You screamed as you were forced into another orgasm, your tight pulsating walls around his cock enough to push him to the edge. Sanha groaned gravelly, his nails digging into your waist as he released his load in your cunt. 
Sanha pulled out when he felt his cock fully flaccid, sitting back against his palms as he watched both of your cum leak out your entrance. Your chest heaved up and down as you tried to regain your breath, meeting his eyes from where you laid. Sanha chuckled, kissing your knee before standing to get some tissues, coming back to carefully wipe your cunt clean. 
You reached your arms out for him to lay down next to you as soon as he threw the soiled tissue away. He smiled lovingly, joining you on the bed and wrapping his arms around you in a hug. 
“Are you upset with me?” He asked cutely, pecking your nose. You grinned and buried your face in his chest, kissing the space between his collarbones. “No, you’re here with me now.”
Sanha giggled, stroking your hair as he tapped his fingers at the small of your back, “’M sorry for ignoring you, baby. I love you.”
“I love you too,” You said, humming as you closed your eyes, sleep slowly overtaking you. He tutted, removing his arms from your body as he sat up, “No! y/n, you have to pee first before you sleep.”
“But I’m tired,” You whined, reaching for him again. Sanha shook his head, gently pulling you up, “Baby, if you get a UTI, you’re gonna hate yourself. Now c’mon, peeing only takes a couple seconds.” 
You grumbled as he found one of his oversized t-shirts, dressing you before finding a pair of shorts for himself. You let out a woah as you stood, holding onto Sanha for support as your legs started to wobble. Your boyfriend chuckled smugly, squeezing your waist as you regained your balance, “You good, baby?”
“Shut up.”
The two of you glanced at his computer, which was now at the main screen of the game. “Do you think they heard, baby?”
“No way,” Sanha said, though he couldn’t deny the slight fear in the pit of his stomach if his friends really did hear you and him having sex. “I muted myself...right?”
You shrugged, not really minding before going to open the door, leading the two of you out of his room. Your face flushed, your feet stopping dead in their tracks as you came face to face with the rest of Astro, all five of them giving you and your boyfriend knowing looks as they sat dispersed around the living room.
“Ah hyungs!”
“I really hope you two used protection,” Eunwoo lectured, though you saw the smirk on his face. 
“I’m--bathroom--peeing...yeah.” You said embarrassed, scurrying off to the direction of their bathroom, yelping as your legs almost gave in.
“Woah, careful y/n,” Rocky snickered sending a wink in Sanha’s direction. The boys began teasing their youngest as soon as you closed the door to the bathroom, Sanha hiding his face in his hands, “Are you really going to do this every time y/n comes over?? It’s been more than a year!”
“No, we only do it when you two kids are loud as hell.” Bin said bluntly, slapping Myungjun’s arm in amusement. Jinwoo chuckled, lightly pointing a finger at your boyfriend, “You better have this much energy during promotions, Sanha--”
“Hyung!” ______________________________
4-6-21
319 notes · View notes
ahtsumu · 3 years
Text
the mystery of love ; kuroo tetsurou
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pairing: kuroo tetsurou x f!reader
synopsis: kuroo tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. he believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. but that doesn’t mean he can’t believe in love.
tag(s): sweet summer lovin’, friends to lovers, inspired by call my by your name, university student!kuroo tetsurou, lab intern!kuroo tetsurou, so much pining lol, fluff, angst, slow burn ; warning(s): profanity, mentions of alcohol ingestion (it’s legal bc they’re in italy!), suggestive themes ; wc: 4.8k
a/n: happy birthday tetsu!! i hope you guys like this. i really enjoyed writing it ♡
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Kuroo Tetsurou does not believe in soulmates. He believes in science, himself, and sometimes other people. At least, that’s what he tells you. Sometimes you treat this information as a source of hope; other times, you’re not sure what to make of it.
This, you realise with his shoulder pressed against yours and both your bodies sprawled across his wrinkled bed sheets, is one of those other times. You turn your face to look at his.
“What?” he asks, one side of his mouth curling up in a smile.
For a moment, you wonder what would happen if you just said it. You could blame the alcohol. Get away with it scot-free. While you mull the option over in the dead silence of his room, your brain suddenly registers the music still playing from the living room. The low bass reverberating through the walls. How close your lips are. The sound of his breaths.
“Earth to Y/N?”
And like that, the little what-if that rose in your mind falls back with its tail between its legs. You bite your lip, look around his room like the walls have a script printed on them. Unfortunately, they do not.
“I was just thinking about my shirt.” It’s not great, but it’s the best you can do while still feeling the vodka and orange juice burn in your stomach. And smelling it on yourself.
Kuroo’s laugh booms through the room and you can’t help but giggle along with him. “I said I was sorry!” he says, hazel eyes twinkling with mirth. He pauses and glances at his closet, then nods his head in its direction. “Take a hoodie. Your pick.”
A smile–– one you try to downplay but fail miserably to–– creeps up your face. “Really?”
“Yeah,” Kuroo replies. “You can also shower here if you want. It's the least I can do after spilling my drink all over you.”
When you emerge from Kuroo’s bathroom in one of his thinner hoodies, a lot soberer and drying your hair, he’s not on the bed anymore. Quietly, you step out of his room and look for him through the house. People are crashed everywhere–– on the sofa, over the kitchen counter, even propped up against walls. The floor is covered with plastic cups and mysterious pools of liquid. Wrinkling your nose, you try your best to step around the messes, looking in every corner in the house for the raven-haired boy.
You find him back in his room, actually. He’s back on his bed scrolling through his phone, the light illuminating his sharp features. When he hears you close the door behind you, he looks up, eyes immediately zeroing in on the black hoodie over your torso. The corner of his mouth twitches up.
“Where’d you go?” you both ask at the same time. He chuckles; you grin. Crawling back onto the bed, you tell him to go first.
“I went around to make sure nothing’s broken,” he explains. “Perks of being the only sober intern in the house, I guess.”
A beat passes.
This house is rented. You forgot about that. All his expenses are paid for by your mother’s lab. You forgot about that. He fits in your world so well, like maybe he’s always had a spot there, that you forgot that Kuroo Tetsurou is only here for the summer.
“Right.”
Kuroo raises a brow. “And you?”
“I went to look for you.”
He smiles and holds his hands out like a magician at the end of a trick. “Well, you found me.”
“Yeah,” you muse. “I guess I did.” Aren’t you lucky.
With that, something shifts in the air. A contemplative expression crosses Kuroo’s face. Maybe he’s realised how his words come out sometimes. Kuroo often says things that sound like they have more than one meaning and it used to throw you off, but now you just go with it. You’ve even picked up that habit yourself. “Do you ever wish that you’d met someone earlier? Maybe under different circumstances?” he asks.
Sighing, you fall back against his mattress and stare up at the ceiling. Telling the truth feels easier when you can’t see him. “Yeah. All the time.” A few seconds pass. “Do you think we would’ve been friends if we went to the same college?”
He also lies down. You’re both back in the same positions you were in an hour ago, but something’s changed. “No,” he admits. You’re not surprised–– that’s what you’d expected. “I’d be a junior and you’d be a freshman. We probably would’ve never met. And even if we had, I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging out with a… freshie.” He chuckles softly at the end. “And look at me now,” he adds softly, more to himself than you. You look over at his face. A contemplative smile rests on his lips.
That urge to just say it returns.
“Kuroo, I think––”
“You’re my favourite p–– oh, my bad. You first.”
And it goes away again.
“Um, uh,” you stutter, “how long do you have left here?”
Kuroo raises his brows. “On this planet? Hopefully a while, Y/N.” He sees your unamused expression and drops the front. “Three more weeks.”
Your eyes widen. Eight weeks have already passed. Blood rushes to your ears. Eight entire weeks have already passed, meaning that in three weeks, Kuroo Tetsurou will leave forever. And in four, you will, too. Except you’ll come back. You’ve done so every summer since you were born, probably will do until you die.
But this place will never be the same as it used to. Not after him.
“Y/N?” Once everything comes back into focus, you see the concern riddling his features. “Everything okay?”
“Hmm? Yeah.”
Say it.
“You didn’t have too much to drink, right?”
Say it.
“I just got buzzed. What about you?”
“The only drink I was planning on having all went to your shirt.”
Say it.
“Kuroo.”
“Yeah?”
Not yet.
“Let’s go on an adventure.”
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At two AM, everything is different. The streets feel different, the villas look different, and you–– you can’t put your finger on it but Kuroo Tetsurou has changed, too. He sits behind the wheel of your father’s white 1953 Cadillac with the convertible roof down, unruly hair blown back by the breeze, a euphoric grin stretched over his face. In the passenger’s seat, you sit with an equally large beam and your hands raised into the dark sky.
“Where to, Miss?” he shouts over the wind.
“The stars,” you shout back with a laugh. Kuroo’s cat-like eyes briefly flit over to your side profile, lips curving to form a smaller, more tender smile. But you miss that–– your gaze falls on him just a second after his return to the road.
“I heard you say Jack’s,” he says, smirking.
The 24/7 diner sticks out like a sore thumb in the row of sun-baked stucco and stone buildings with its bold neon lights and shiny exterior. During the day, it seems gaudy, way too American for a small town in northern Italy. But at night, this place feels like home. You’ve been stumbling into Jack’s completely shit-faced since you were sixteen. Of course, all those other times had been with the kids of your mother’s coworkers. All those other times, you could hardly remember what you even ordered when you woke up hours later.
But this time, you walk in with Kuroo Tetsurou at half-past-two in the morning, the chemicals running through your bloodstream epinephrine and dopamine, not ethanol; if you’re drunk then it’s on a feeling and your only poison is the boy next to you. You study his face and consider that thought. No, he’s not poison. He’s the antidote.
“Y/N!” the server exclaims, rushing over with two menus. “And Kuroo! My two favourite customers, but together this time!” Giovanni ushers you two to a booth by the window and takes your orders, purely for show, of course. He knows your orders by heart: the Lorenzo for Kuroo and the Quentin for you.
“With fries on both, please,” Kuroo adds, throwing you a wink. “Aren’t I a gentleman?”
“You only did that to have more for yourself,” you reply drily. Having him over at your house for dinner every night made picking up his idiosyncrasies so unbelievably easy. You know them like they’re your own. You know him like he’s your own.
Kuroo clutches his chest and pretends to be offended, then changes the conversation to what happened at the lab today, or rather, yesterday. That your mother and the other researchers are so close to finding a cure for the strain of virus that’s recently hit crickets in southern Italy.
“You should drop by again sometime,” he says. “Last time you came around was, what, two weeks ago?”
Your face breaks in a grin. “Are you saying you’ve missed me? Chemistry getting boring?” you tease, drawing a loud laugh from him.
“Sodium hydrogen, you little shit.” Your mother’s used this one on you before, but hearing it from him makes you giggle anyway.
Giovanni comes back with two plates, each loaded with fries. You both say your thanks and he retreats to the kitchen again, but not before wiggling his eyebrows at your reddening faces. Wordlessly, you grab your fork and knife and transfer at least half of your fries onto Kuroo’s plate. Kuroo stares at you with the slightest smile. That look sends your stomach into flips.
“What?” you question nonchalantly, cutting into your burger.
“Nothing,” he says, mirroring your actions. “Nothing at all.”
It’s hard to imagine that after spending almost every day together for eight weeks straight that there’s still more to learn about each other, but there is. You tell him more about your real home. Your best friend who called you at 3 AM last night because of timezones. Stories from every summer before this one, when you were a different person in the same place you are now.
He tells you more about Kenma, his best friend from high school. How they played on one of the best volleyball teams in Japan. Stories from training camp, literature class, the metro ride home after school–– you listen to every single one in rapt attention. There’s not enough time in the world for all the things you want to know about Kuroo Tetsurou, so you take what you can get. If only you’d known him before you’d known him.
“If we’d met earlier here, do you think we would’ve been friends?” you ask after paging Giovanni for the check.
“No,” he replies, picking up a few remaining fries with his fork instead of his fingers. The corners of your mouth turn up. That’s your thing. He considers the scenario seriously. “I think we met right when we should have.”
“What about the future?” you press, leaning into the conversation. “Let’s say we meet in two years here, instead of now. Would we be friends?”
Kuroo sets his fork down, eyes you steadily. “What’s this about?”
You blink. “What?”
“What’s with all these hypotheticals today?” Perhaps worried that he came off too harshly, Kuroo adds, “I thought I was the scientist.”
“I just… it feels like I’ve known you since forever.” This feels like it was meant to be, you don’t say. And I want to know you forever.
A sigh–– fond, but still a sigh–– blows through his lips. “Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates,” he says with a wicked grin.
“Are you calling me your soulmate?” The question, shamelessly genuine, painfully hopeful, leaves your mouth without you intending it to and you regret it instantly. Because Kuroo Tetsurou has told you many times that he does not believe in soulmates.
Is it so bad to dream, though?
You watch him carefully but he doesn’t say anything, just continues smiling wryly like you’d intended to tease him. Like he knows that you know better. But you don’t.
“Are you?” he suddenly replies. Sharp eyes hold yours, daring you to respond. Do you dare?
At that moment, Giovanni returns with the check. “Who’s paying?” he asks, unaware of the tense exchange that just occurred across the table. Inaudibly, you sigh in relief. Kuroo is about to say that it’s on him when he catches himself in the middle of his sentence, looks your way, then back to Giovanni. He says you’ll go Dutch. You nod in approval.
“So,” Kuroo drawls once you’ve both paid for your meals. “Where do we go from here?”
Good question.
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Kuroo Tetsurou has never been to an outdoor club period. And though he’s been clubbing, he has never once gone dancing in his lifetime. You tell him that’s about to change as he parks the car in a lot near the venue. Before him, all your summer nights were spent here.
“You’ve been here for two months and you haven’t been to an outdoor club yet?” you ask while unbuckling your seatbelt. That can’t be possible. If you’d been in his shoes… an attractive college student in a foreign country for the summer, you would have gone wild.
“Nope. I’ve been a little busy, y’know, spending my days in a lab, handling chemicals, studying viruses, washing lab equipment, writing up reports for your mother and her colleagues, working on my own research on the side… the usual.” He flashes you a bright, sarcastic smile.
“Poor baby,” you coo, ruffling his hair. Kuroo laughs while you continue messing with the dark locks. “Was your first full day here the only tourist-day you’ve had so far?” His weekends, you already know, are spent either lounging around cafés, pools, or the great outdoors with you or the interns. But you’d assumed he’d had time to do some exploring on his own.
Kuroo nods. “And my guide wasn’t even that great,” he mutters, shooting you a dark look. “She sped through every attraction and hardly spoke a word outside of the tour to me. I think she hated me.”
You giggle and open the door, letting the music from the outdoor speakers infiltrate the bubble inside your car. “Maybe she was just nervous!” you say as you get out. That’s a lie.
“About what?” Kuroo follows suit, the gravel crunching beneath his feet. “I was so friendly to you and you just brushed me off each time.” He pouts.
But you don’t reply. Instead, you just grab his hands and pull him towards the venue. As you step into the boundaries marked by fairy lights and rustic wooden fences, Kuroo stops in his tracks and tugs on your intertwined hands. You glance down before up, trying to memorise how his hand looks around yours in the few seconds you can steal.
“Y/N,” Kuroo says. The strobe lights paint his skin pink, blue, purple like it’s a canvas. “Tell me why you were nervous.” Grammatically, it’s a command. And yet it sounds like he’s begging.
“What’s it mean to you?” you ask, feeling your heartbeat speed up in your chest. So what if you just… said it? What would happen?
“Everything?” he replies with a cheeky smile. The odds that he seriously means that are slim. But… they’re there. You shake that possibility out of your mind. That’s just the hope talking.
“Depends how convincingly you say it.” You tug on his arm. “C’mon. Let’s dance.” But he doesn’t budge–– he just continues to stand by the entrance of the club with an expectant look on his face. People are starting to stare.
“Fine,” you say with an eye roll. “I’ll tell you." Kuroo smirks, something self-congratulatory ready to leave his mouth, but then you let go of his hand and dance backwards into the throng of moving bodies. “But first, you’re gonna have to dance with me!” 
You allow yourself to be swallowed by the lively music, the people, the moment. Seconds later you’re deep enough into the crowd that you lose sight of Kuroo. Something in you says that he’ll show up soon, though. For now, you let yourself breathe. Forget about the heaviness of what-if’s, the itch to confess, the dread of the aftermath. Feelings are a lot like gravity. Sometimes they keep you grounded, other times, they weigh you down. This is one of those other times.
You dance up to a friendly-looking group of teens your age. Three guys and two girls. You shout your name and follow up with how it’s nice to meet them, hoping one of them finds you nice enough to keep around. Dancing alone in a club is one of the worst things that can ever happen to someone. Luckily, one of the girls–– the one wearing a purple wig–– pulls you in for a hug, drunkenly shouting back, “Bianca!” Bianca pushes you into their circle next to one of the guys and, just like that, you two start moving to the beat, feeling it in your feet, shoulders, hips. At one point, you turn around and take a good look at his face. The guy’s cute enough, but he’s not Kuroo. Still, you say nothing as he moves closer to you and grabs your hand, lifting it up and motioning for you to twirl.
Suddenly, a pair of hands grip firmly onto your waist and pull you out of the circle. “Hey!” You look down, suddenly realising they’re Kuroo’s. A shiver runs down your spine. He spins you around to face him. His lips are set in a firm line, eyes completely devoid of humour, nostrils slightly flared.
“Hi,” you say quietly, testing the waters.
“Hi,” he replies curtly. His hands are still on your waist. Selfishly, you choose not to point that out. Instead, you try to defuse the situation with a light question. Playful tone.
“Where were you this whole time?”
“Looking for you.”
“Well… you found me.” You flash him a sheepish grin. A peace offering of some sort.
“I did.” He doesn’t take it.
“Lucky you.”
Irritation finally seeps through his features. “You just left me on the dance floor!” he snaps. “And then when I find you after searching the entire venue, you’re dancing up on some random guy!”
“It was in good fun!” you retort, wriggling out of his grip. “And I wasn’t dancing up on him.” You want to ask if he’s jealous so badly, but you take a good look at his face and decide against that.
“Fun?” he asks incredulously. “Worrying about losing you, worrying about myself getting lost, then having to worry about that guy after finding you isn’t very fucking fun to me, Y/N!” The words fly out of his mouth like daggers without pause. Once finished, he looks at you with a disappointed gaze, shaking his head lightly, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.
“I’m sorry,” you say, looking down at your shoes. It doesn’t matter if you disagree with him–– a sort of shame drills itself so deeply into your conscience that all you can think about is making things right again. “I didn’t think my actions through.”
A second passes. You wonder what he’s thinking.
“Hey, look at me.” Kuroo lifts your chin up with an index finger. Your wide eyes meet his narrow ones. Just as a pink beam glides over his face, his gaze softens, falls down to your lips. And then you feel his thumb on your chin, barely grazing the skin of your bottom lip. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. The revelry in the background fades to dull beats against your eardrums. Suddenly, you register that he smells of, as usual, blackcurrant and amber.
But now you also smell of blackcurrant and amber.
You’re wearing his clothes. You smell of him.
Kuroo’s eyes crawl back up to yours, wide like he’s just been caught in the middle of a crime. You blink expectantly, ignoring the furious way your heart pounds in your chest. Shallow breaths puff through your slightly parted mouth.
“I am.” It comes out barely a whisper. C’mon. Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me––
You gently touch the hand he has on your chin. Kuroo jolts back like he’s been burned. “I’ll, uhm, I’ll be in the car,” he stutters, looking away from your face. He pushes through the sea of people, leaving you all alone on the dance floor, body doused in blue light, fingers touching the area his thumb had been as if preserving its print.
Kuroo hardly notices you slip into the passenger’s seat minutes later. He’s got his forearms hanging over the steering wheel and gaze fixed ahead into the darkness, mind probably running off to a place he wishes his body was, too.
As soon as you’ve buckled yourself in, Kuroo starts the car.
The entire drive home is silent.
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Once Kuroo pulls into your courtyard and parks, he turns off the engine, unbuckles his seatbelt, and steps out of the car. Wordlessly, you follow his actions and meet him by the stairs to your door.
“Hi,” you say quietly. He doesn’t look at you.
“Hey.”
The two of you stand outside your front door in silence as you both consider what to say next. This can’t be the way it ends.
“I shouldn’t have… done that,” Kuroo says first.
“Done what?” You choose to play dumb. Call it selfish, but you want to hear him say it. Maybe then it’ll feel as real as it had been. Kuroo sighs and leans his shoulder against the stone wall, crossing his arms over his chest. There’s no way he can dance around what happened. Perhaps the past two months can be summed up as the development of a strong friendship with skilled doublespeak and metaphors and just enough artistic licence, but this can’t. And Kuroo knows that. He can’t feed you an alternative truth like he’s done so many times before. What’s more, he can’t lie to himself anymore. So maybe it’s better just to not speak at all.
Your eyes burn holes into the side of his face. Fine. You’ll concede first. “I was never nervous.”
Kuroo blinks, turns his head around to look at you. “What?”
“I was never nervous. I was playing it cool because I didn’t want to risk befriending you and getting attached.” I’m still playing it cool, you don’t say. And I’m already attached. “Guess I just came off as a bitch instead.” You laugh. “But can you blame me? You were this cute, older guy. Smart, too, since you were interning with my mom. You were my dream guy.”
An amused breath blows out of his nose. “Were?” he questions, grinning, only remembering the fragility of your platonic relationship a second later. “Um––”
“Are.” It slips out of your mouth without you realising. Fuck. Kuroo stills. It’s too late to take back your words now, so you might as well just keep going. “You still are my dream guy.”
Seconds pass and neither of you says anything. Sweat gathers in the palms of your hands. You start to feel your heartbeat through your neck. The buzz of the cicadas grows louder. Oppressive. Behind Kuroo, the sky is starting to turn pale blue and pink in the horizon. That means it’s almost sunrise. The night is almost over, and, hopefully, so is this awful conversation.
“And… you don��t feel the same.” Funnily, you feel like you’re lying. You’re telling Kuroo how he feels and you think you’re lying. Does that make sense? None of this night even feels real. God, you hope this has all just been a dream. Mustering a soft smile, you say, “That’s okay. Thank you for the party. And the adventure.” It was fun while it lasted. You feel the house key in your pocket and turn to unlock the door. “I hope this doesn’t change anything between us, Kuroo. Can we still be friends?” The words leave your mouth feeling like barbed wire. You know damn well you can’t still be friends.
And suddenly, you feel his calloused hands around your cheeks. Suddenly, his hot breath fans over your face.
“Can I kiss you?” he murmurs.
Your eyes close instantly. “Yes, please.”
And suddenly, his soft lips are on yours.
Kuroo breaks the kiss seconds later. “Fuck,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours, touching the tips of your noses together. “Y/N, I don’t want to be friends. Fuck.” A dry chuckle leaves his mouth. He pauses to collect his thoughts but decides that that can wait. Instead, he presses another kiss to your lips so fervently that he backs you up against the wall with no space between your bodies. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat like this, chest to chest. Kuroo’s hands travel down your waist and rest on your hips. His tongue runs across your tongue, your teeth, the insides of your mouth. You gently suck on it, drawing a satisfied moan from him. When the kiss ends, you see that his lips are red and cheeks are swollen. A warm feeling spreads through your chest. “I thought I could be happy just being friends with you but I can’t. I want you so bad it hurts. Not to mention, when I saw you in my hoodie?” His fingers pinch the material. “I thought God was testing me or some shit.”
“Sure didn’t feel like you wanted me that way,” you retort, still breathless.
“In my defence,” Kuroo says, thumbs tracing your cheekbones, “I was very scared.”
“Of what?”
It looks like he’s about to tell you, but he changes his mind and doesn’t answer. He grabs your hand and pulls you back to the car with a cheeky grin. “I’ll tell you only if you tell me where we can watch the sunrise.”
Kuroo holds your hand, stroking your thumb the entire drive there.
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After a short hike, you plop down on the grassy hillside, supporting your body with outstretched arms in the back. Kuroo sits down beside you with one of his hands covering yours, fingers intertwined like a honeysuckle vine around a hazel tree. You tell him that you grew up running along this hill with your parents. It used to be your playground. Maybe, you think, it’s time to make new memories here.
“Beautiful,” Kuroo breathes, a wonderstruck look in his eyes. The sun’s just risen halfway above the pink and blue horizon, the saturated orange casting the entire city below gold. It’s not just the city, though. He’s also gold. He’s just as beautiful. You watch him with a soft smile on your lips, noting how his wide eyes and slack jaw return to normal as he stares off into the distance. After resting your head on his shoulder, you fix your eyes on the sunrise ahead. You wonder what he’s thinking so quietly about.
“Penny for your thoughts?” you finally ask once the sun has finished revealing itself.
Kuroo blinks, returning to reality, but continues to stare straight ahead. “I was just thinking about… soulmates.”
You lift your head off his shoulder. “Don’t tell me you believe in soulmates now,” you tease.
“Hmm.” He turns to look at you, the sun turning his hazel eyes the colour of honey. That same wry smirk from Jack’s returns to his face.
“You wanna know why I was so scared?”
“Pray tell.”
“Because I’ve never felt this way towards anyone.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“No,” Kuroo laughs, laying his head down in your lap, looking up into your eyes. “I’m serious. I used to purposely stay away from girls in high school. Same in college. Same all the way until you somehow wormed your way into my life. That’s why we wouldn’t have been friends.” You cock your head to the side.
“Why?” you ask, running your fingers through his hair.
Kuroo’s eyelids flutter shut. He inhales deeply before talking. “My parents are divorced. The years before the divorce were… very ugly.” 
(He spares you the details of the midnight arguments, the smashed plates, the holes in the walls. He spares you the details of how he only ever knew how to fall asleep with his head sandwiched between two pillows, how he hasn’t seen his sister in a decade, how he’ll curse and snap but never yell because he always feels like a child again around the noise. That’s for another time, if you’ll have any.) 
“I still remember all the fighting and yelling. For the longest time, that’s all I knew about marriage and relationships.”
“Did you think all relationships were like that? Fighting and yelling?” you ask.
“For a while, yeah. I’m still a little scared of that, to be honest. Ending up in a relationship where all you do is fight.” Kuroo sighs. “But that’s not the only thing. I thought I wouldn’t know how to love someone, growing up like that.” At that, your fingers pause in his hair.
“Wait,” you say, furrowing your brows. A wave of immense sadness (not for yourself, for him) washes over you. “You think you wouldn’t know how to love someone else?”
“Thought.” Kuroo cracks open his eyes and smiles up at you. “I’m in the process of changing my mind.”
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cinnamonest · 3 years
Text
I’m pushing out another one of my long-since-drafted things to the queue bc I’m trying to start keeping the queue active 24/7 and fill more asks but have this in the meantime
//dark shit, like the blood gore violence kind of yandere not the hot kind, brief animal death, gruesome slow npc death, gore, violence, blood, decaying/putrefaction mention
I'm really bad at judging what's mild versus severe when it comes to gore/blood bc I tend to underestimate, I think this is kinda severe? Let me know which it is actually pls so I have a better idea for the future ---------------------------------------- I mentioned a while back in the corpse disposal post and murder methods post that Razor can be... Brutal to say the least, but to expand more on the concept I feel like there's a big potential for a sort of gap moe with him, a duality that seems to contradict itself. Because in many ways he's a sweetheart, always trying to find things to make you happy, often smiling with those wide, excited eyes, physically affectionate with nuzzles and the like. But the other side of that, he's not actually aware of how... desensitized he is. You notice it early on and it catches you off guard a bit the first time it happens. Some poor little animal you two see struggling, like a bird stuck in a tree, and you urge him to go get it and he nods and says ok. Grabs it, and just as you're about to thank him and let it go you hear its little bones snap under the crush of his grip with a final pained chirp. There, he got it, see? Now you two can eat it together. That was why you wanted him to grab it right? To kill it? Why else? He looks down and realizes oh, it's still twitching, so he reached a hand up and twists its neck. There, now it's dead, he says with a beaming smile. But it falls and he tilts his head when he sees the shocked look on your face. What's wrong? Why are you so upset? You soon learn a lot of the animals don't... die immediately. The little things the wolves drag back are still kicking and struggling, still making noises as they tear into them to devour. It makes you sick to your stomach when you witness it, tears come to your eyes. He knows you don't like it and warns you, but... he doesn't understand why? Why does it upset you like that? He doesn't get it. It's a gnawing awareness in the back of your mind. You start to pick up on his... lack of reactions to certain things. You were once in the church getting healing for a minor wound of his when another group of adventurers came rushing through the doors, desperately begging for help for their friend they were carrying... some guy seriously injured, gored by a boar. The sight is burned in your mind forever, the organs spilling out of his split gut, the shivering and wide, bloodshot eyes, the blood bubbling out of his mouth with choked horrific groans and the way his body convulsed involuntarily. The most horrid thing you'd ever seen. And you were pretty certain it was that way for everyone. Everyone in the church was gasping, some people were retching and trying to hold back sickness, people ran out of the room as they were unable to handle the scene, tears were in everyone's eyes, and as the man wailed in agony from them setting his dislocated bones, you watched the bystanders cringe and wince. Every person in the vicinity was visibly horrified.... except for one. Razor's face was neutral. Curious. He leaned in closer to get a better look, eyebrows raised. He doesn't flinch at the sight of organs spilling onto the ground and the man starting to convulse and foam at the mouth as his eyes roll back into his head. And then, after a moment, he asks if you're ready to leave, says he feels better now and that man is really loud, he doesn't like it. His voice doesn't even have the slightest hint of a wavering or discomfort. When you come across a man in the woods caught in a bear trap, you can barely stand to look at it. Just hearing the cries for help had you shivering, and the sight of the pooling blood and utter agony on the man's face had you gasping, hand over your mouth as you tried to look away. ...Razor didn't seem to mind, though. He just undoes the trap and, without giving the man any warning, yanks it apart, pulling the spikes from his legs. As he does, blood shoots out and splatters on his face. He doesn't flinch, nor when the man screams. He does finally seem to react to the pained groans the man makes. But... It's not like your reactions. He's not flinching and grimacing, drawing in sharp breaths and tensing up, eyes watering in pity and shock like you. Instead, his eyes narrow and he puts his hands over his ears as you stoop down to help the poor man. His eyebrows furrow. He almost looks... Annoyed. He draws his foot back as if he's about to kick him, but freezes with realization when he looks at you, as if he forgot you were standing there, and puts his foot back down. You're certain he wasn't actually going to do that, of course. You're not sure why he did that, but... He wouldn't do something like that, even in a moment of dissociation from his human awareness. He does volunteer to be the one to go get help, though, getting away fast, but for some reason you sense it was more out of irritation at the noise rather than horror at the whole thing. Perhaps the worst was the decomposing body, that day you took a walk in the woods together. He smelled it first, nose wrinkling up in disgust at the putrid smell. But it was strong enough that you smelled it soon after. He says having dead animals this close to the residence of the pack is not good, they all hate the smell, so he can try to move the carcass of whatever animal it is... but it's not an animal, it turns out, once you finally find the source, collapsed at the bottom of a cliff from where they most likely fell to their death. Well, it's kind of a stretch to say it still resembles a human either, but you can tell from the general shape. It's more just like a glob, putrefied and rotting flesh falling off the bones. It shocks you so much you fall backwards, but he just moves closer. Ugh, too far rotted to move, he can't do anything about it, he realizes as he gives the decaying mass a kick and watches the blackened flesh slide off the bones. Oh well. ...In your shock, it takes you a moment to realize how... unbothered he seems. Mildly annoyed by the smell, but his expression is neutral as he looks at one of the most horrifying sights you've ever seen, he just yawns as he walks away from it and says you two should get away from the smell, it makes his head hurt.
The events all linger in the back of your head. A growing sense of wrongness, a dark, cold dread that settles in your stomach as the occurrences slowly grow in number, one after the other, each time you notice the complete lack of any sign of disturbance on his face, in his voice or body language. You ask him once, one time when you get the courage to ask such a... potentially offensive question. Don't you... feel anything when you see things dying? When they're in pain? He nods. He gets what you mean. The feeling when you watch something die. Hungry, right? Oh, no? Maybe you mean the irritation, a kind of angry feeling, what's the word... impatient...? Because the thing is taking too long to die and he wants it to go ahead and die already. Or maybe you mean like when that man was injured? When something is dying but it's not something you wanna eat? Yeah, he has a feeling then too. Um... kind of like anger... you taught him the word once... annoyed? They make so much noise, and he doesn't like loud things. When that man came into the church... he didn't like how loud it was. Why didn't they just kill him, since he was making so much noise...? He doesn't get it. When things annoy him, he kills them, like loud birds and biting bugs. He kinda had an urge to just... reach out and make the man stop screaming, just twist his neck like he does small animals when they make too much noise. But he's smart, he says, he knows the other people might get mad. Yes, he uses the word "might," not "would," as if it was a mere possibility. So it doesn't really come as a surprise when the same attitude applies to the people at his own mercy, the people that get too close to you and end up dragged out to the woods. It's that same knowing dread in your gut, and while it horrifies you as much as it always has, you wouldn't have expected anything else. Maybe some people would feel bad about what they're doing, they would want to go ahead and get it over with, they couldn't take the begging and agony the other party is in... but not only is he totally unbothered, but if he kills him now, he says, the blood will go all over the ground, and that's bad, his lupical like eating the blood in things. So he just snaps the man's bones, that way he won't run away. It's hard to describe the excruciated noises that come out of the other's throat when he does. It's unlike any noise you've ever heard a human make, that kind of pain. The sweat that pours from the other's skin from the agony, the way his mouth hangs open even when he can't scream anymore, the trembling and muffled begging as he moves to the next limb. You tremble and cry. You shiver uncontrollably, you whimper for him to stop. Your eyes widen when he grabs each limb and you close your eyes and sob and grimace and cringe with the snapping sound. Razor, on the other hand, stays just as neutral as before. Face blank and empty, as if performing any other mundane task. He doesn't flinch at the snapping. His expression is unchanging at the sound of screams and the groans as he drags the still-living figure behind him by his shattered ankle all the way back home. When he finally goes to look back at you, he tilts his head at the look on your face. Why do you still look upset? There's no blood yet... isn't it blood that makes you upset? Maybe not? Maybe it's the sound that bothers you? Yeah, you flinch whenever the man groans in pain, so it must be the sounds of the dying things that you don't like, it annoys him too really. Ok, that can be fixed... sound comes from the throat right? Well, he left his claymore a ways away so, it'll just take a second, the guy is thrashing a bit but eventually he holds him still enough to get his teeth latched around his throat and just... bites down. The sound is a squelching, crunching sound, one that you'll never forget, it makes every hair on your body stand on end and your skin crawl. He pulls back with the mass of bleeding flesh and tracheal tissue in his jaws and spits it out on the ground. There, see...? You can see the blood on his teeth reflecting the light as he smiles. He's not making noises anymore, so... why do you still have that look on your face? Is it because the body on the ground is all... spasming and convulsing like that? Well, uh... that'll stop soon, probably. At least it's nice and quiet now. He gets it, really, he doesn't like loud noises either.
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realcube · 3 years
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randomly falling asleep with hq!! characters 💤
navi | masterlist | taglist 
thank you anon for this cute request!
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characters: ushijima, tsukishima & yachi 
content warning: swearing, mentions of sexual assault 
thank you to anon for this cute request
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wakatoshi ushijima
♡ he shows affection in his own...special way 😊
♡ by that, i mean that if you fall asleep while sitting next to him and he thinks you look cute, he’ll just stare (●__●)
♡ like deadass if he was anyone else, it’d be creepy as hell but he’s your bf so-
♡ he stares bc not only do you look precious, but he doesn’t want to touch you as he’s afraid that he might wake you up
♡ though, if you’re in public (like sitting next to him on the train) he might gently put his arm around your shoulders to make sure that onlookers know that you’re safe with him
♡ also, it only takes one time for him to catch on to your habit of disappearing and falling asleep in the most unconventional places and istg he is the BEST at guessing where you are - it’s a gift
♡ like he’ll arrive home and if you’re not there to immediately greet him with kisses, he’ll take a moment - let him boyfriend senses take over and walk him over to whatever room is giving him ✨(y/n) vibes✨, open the door and there is a 99% chance you are in that room sleeping 
♡ and he probably got it right first guess (which is a pretty big deal considering y’alls house resembles a sims fkn mansion made with motherload money)
♡ he’ll open the door to the storage cupboard to find you sleeping with the mr muscle spray and it’s such a shame bc he was going to be a clown and make a ‘why are you cheating on me?’ joke but you were in REM sleep 🙄
♡ or he’ll walk in to the conservatory and see you laying in the fetal position on the floor and that is the ONLY time he interferes with your sleep bc he doesn’t want you to fuck up your back 🥺
♡ like he has an obsession with your posture - like if you are slouched he will tell you to stand up straight or if you are sitting hunched in a chair, he’ll creep up behind you to start massaging your shoulders while fixing your posture 
♡ not to be rude though- just bc he cares
♡ also, he never questions how you end up falling asleep in the most random of places, he just goes with it 
♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥
ushijima sighed as he hung up his jacket, realising that this was one of those days were you won’t come scurrying to the front door to greet him with kisses and instead he had to hunt through in search of you. although, it wasn’t much of a hunt considering his gut instinct said you’d be in the study room and there you were, cuddled up by the bookshelf. 
however, your back was hunched over in way that didn’t look to comfortable so ushijima thought it was his duty to transport you to somewhere that there was a lot more appropriate and fit for sleeping.
so he gently slipped one hand behind your back and the other under your knees to slowly pick you up and carry you to your shared bedroom. is efforts may have been in vain though as he noticed one of your lids flutter open out of the corner of his eye, “good afternoon, sweetheart.” he hummed, steadily shifting his hand from your back to the back of your head to tenderly caress your cheek with his thumb as you cuddled into his chest. “are you awake?”
“No.” you groaned.
“Shame, I was going to suggest going out for walk on the beach--”
“I’m awake! Let’s go!” 
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kei tsukishima 
♡ he probably calls you lazy but he’s really just jealous of how well you can sleep
♡ coz he just lays in bed till 4AM staring at the ceiling 
♡ i imagine that if you were to fall asleep next to him in a crowded, bustling place - like on a train - he’d take off his headphones and clasp them over your ears so the loud announcements don’t wake you up  
♡ he doesn’t fall asleep on transport btw (not even planes) so don’t worry about missing your stop 
♡ though he’s not usually a fan of PDA, he’ll hold your hand without a second thought to lead you out the train when you’re still recovery from the post-sleep haze because of course he doesn’t want to lose you in the crowds of people or anything
♡ and if you have a cute lil sleepy face then he might take a picture but he’d probably edit the picture with snapchat or something and draw like a moustache on you, put a sarcastic caption or something then send it to you 
♡ (but he’d save an unedited version of the pic bc you’re adorable-)
♡ like tsukki leaves you on delivered most of the time on snapchat bc he believes if you have something important to say, you’ll just message him normally but the rare occasion you do get a snap from him, don’t get your hopes up bc there is a 99% it’s just something like a picture of you with a drawn on crown and the caption ‘sleeping beauty 🙄’ 
♡ ‘so you think i’m a beauty 🥺’
♡ then he leaves you on read
♡ he will not carry you under any circumstances in public btw
♡ and at home, if you were to fall asleep on the couch next to him while y’all were watching a movie, there’s a 50/50 that’d he carry you to bed 
♡ but if he doesn’t take you to bed, he’ll set down a pillow for you on the couch and shift you around so you were laying in a more comfortable position, then drape a blanket over you 
♡ in regards to when he comes back from work, you’re usually already asleep in bed - but there is one time that you were not in the bedroom, and he still teases you for it until this day 
♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥
most of the time, you’re sound asleep in bed by the time gets home but tonight you weren’t - in fact, you were no where to be seen. he had searched everywhere, called your phone multiple time and he looked at your schedule, but it appeared as though you were supposed to home right now - so hours, he was sitting fretfully on the couch, contemplating calling the police.
however, all his distressed pacing really worked up an appetite so he poked his head into the pantry to grab a snack but his soul almost left his body when he noticed you laying on the floor, fast asleep, with the cat curled up in your arms. who he didn’t even noticed was missing lol
usually, he wouldn’t even think of waking you up but the rage and shock that shot through his body resulted in him barking out, “what the fuck?! what are you doing here?! i’ve been looking all over this damn house for you and--”
he was cut off by the cat springing out of your arms from the surprising sharpness of his voice and scurrying off, leaving you confused on the floor on the pantry, half asleep, wondering how you got here and why tsukishima was yelling at you? “hm? what’s wrong, sweetie?” you hummed, rubbing your eyes while tilting your head up to look at his tall, slender figure looming over you in the doorway.
as much as tsukishima wanted to stay mad at you, upon noticing how cute your bedhead was along with how soft your voice was, he quickly realised that there was no way he could continue yelling you. so instead, he scoffed and slowly kneeled down to sit next to you on the floor, looking at you with kind yet concerned eyes as he inquired, “why were you sleeping in the pantry?”
it took you a moment to try and remember but once you did, you blurted out, “oh, berry was having trouble sleeping.” yes your cat is called berry. don’t question it. her full name is strawberry tsukishima shortcake. “so i cuddled with her in her favourite sleeping spot and she slept like a baby. but i guess i did too.” yo chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck. 
tsukishima mentally cursed you out as he was expecting a silly explanation but shit that’s cute. why does he lowkey want to join y’all next time?
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hitoka yachi
♡ gsrbtrhryh she gets so flustered and nervous when you fall asleep with her
♡ and she always does tbh bc she has no idea what to do 
♡ like she thinks you look so precious and angelic so she really wants to take a picture and - if she thinks you’d be okay with it - she clicks a photo and probably sets it as her background or posts it on her private story
♡ she is just so head over heels for you tbh that everything you do just astounds her 
♡ she just stares at you like ◉_◉ for half an hour bc you are so beautiful then something inside her just prompts her to lean in and just *mwah* and at first she is quite satisfied bc she has expressed her affection 
♡ but then a few seconds later her soul just leaves her body and guilt just washes over her 
♡  ‘OMG I JUST ASSULTED MY OWN S/O’
♡ she feels horrible 
♡ this close 👌 to calling the police on herself
♡ when you wake up, prepare to be bombarded with her apologies 
♡ once you reassure that it’d fine bc it was just a lil peck on the cheek and she is your girlfriend after all, it brings her the slightest peace of mind
♡ so you peck her cheek while she is asleep to call it evens and that basically fixes it 
♡ but anyway, she is so careful around you when you sleep - like she will literally do the most just to ensure that she doesn’t interrupt your REM sleep
♡ however, that can lead to extremely sticky situations - like the first time you ever fell asleep around her 
♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥ ♡ ♥
You were on the 5th movie of your barbie movie marathon when she looked over and noticed you had fallen asleep half way through, so she immediately paused it so the noise wouldn’t wake you up. This was the first time she had ever seen you sleep and she felt somewhat flattered that you felt safe enough around her to be vulnerable - even though, yachi never really considered herself to be a rather daunting or intimidating person.
she couldn’t help but just sit and admire you for a few minutes before realising that she should probably transport you to somewhere more comfortable as you were currently sitting next to her on the pink beanbag in her room. and although  it was kinda comfy, the preferable alternative - her bed - was only a few feet away.
so she knew what she had to do.
she hopped to her feet and before she did anything too hasty, she stretched to ensure that she wouldn’t pull a muscle while doing what she was about to try. she inhaled deeply before crouching down - instead of bending over as she remembered what coach ukai had told her, ‘lift with your legs!’ - then snaking her arms under your torso and knees.
then, she sprung back up and immediately rushed over to the bed as even though you weren’t too heavy, she was afraid that if she held you for too long, you’d wake up. so once she reach the foot of her bed, she tossed you on so your neck was being supported by her soft pillow and yanked her duvet over you. 
she gazed lovingly down at your cozy figure laying on her bed and she couldn’t help but smile.
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cotccotc · 3 years
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SKZ + a ftm s/o !!
 ◌ ftm (female-to-male) refers to a transgender person who was assigned female at birth, but identifies as male. these people are awesome, lovely, brave, & valid !! (yes that’s part of the official definition !!!! look it up <3)
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part of my eight as fate event !! ( requested by @lixsmullet​ ♡ )
genre/s: fluff, skz x ftm reader
warning/s: mentions of dysphoria, mentions of periods, one very brief implication of transphobia (NOT IN REFERENCE TO THE MEMBERS DW), use of various pet names, swearing, my dumb formatting and commentary uwu
wc: ~1.5k
a/n: i hope i did this req justice !!! i made sure to do a lot of research on topics that might come up in this situation so i hope everything is accurate, but also inclusive for multiple types of people within the ftm umbrella. the descriptions might not be too deep but pls know they were written with a lot of care. OH ALSO i included potential pet names they might use !! i really really hope y’all enjoy this :) lmk what u think !!
◌ CHAN
chan’s known for putting other people’s needs before his own, and this is no exception.
he’d be super giving !!! would buy you “world’s best boyfriend” mugs and shit !!! it’s cringe but you love him so it’s fine !!!
more on top of your doctors appointments or meds than you are tbh
boy oh boy… if you take/decide to start taking testosterone……
LOOK OUT HERE COMES THE T POLICE KJDF
he just wants to do everything he can to help you !!!!! whether it means literally helping you stay on top of things and being your at-home (emotional) therapist, or giving you space.
i feel like he’s very good at detecting how a person feels based on their face or body language, so he’d always be on the lookout in case you might be feeling off or dysphoric.
and, as much as it might pain him, he’d give you as much time/space as you need. once again, he has your best interest in mind 24/7 !!! he just loves you so much, you know? 🥺
potential pet names (as long as you’re ok with them !! that goes for each member.): babyboy (we saw this one coming), foxy/sexy (mostly sarcastic but also… True), sunshine
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◌ MINHO
a thing that i personally love to imagine: minho introducing you to people as his boyfriend
if anybody ever gives either of you a questioning look afterward (either intentionally or not) he wouldn’t waver at all !!! he’d just stand there and keep smiling. because you’re his boyfriend, duh
constantly reminds you how strong you are !! how super tough and cool you are !!! because it’s true !!!!!!!
i feel like i always make him sound like the ceo of Boyfriend Bootcamp in my reactions but i MEAN???
for example, if you’re ever feeling down (for whatever reason. whether it applies to you being trans or not) he’d be like “MAN UP !!! YOU’RE A WARRIOR !!!! ……. a cute one <3333 bUT A STRONG ONE !!!!!!”
in general, i definitely see him as the type of person who’ll just grab your hand or hold you a little closer in situations where he thinks you might feel uncomfortable, and even if he doesn’t directly acknowledge it, you know there’s a lot of love and care behind the gesture.
also… you’re sad? here, hold a cat.
potential pet names: stud (as a joke.. but it stuck), anything that starts with “my” (like my boy, my baby, my love, etc.)
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◌ CHANGBIN
ok listen
i’m not calling changbin lazy
HOWEVER
he will most definitely try and make you do “manly” things for him when he doesn’t feel like it- SJDJJ
imagine his raspy, tough, yet adorably whiny voice being all:
“BAAAABE…. BABYYYYYY….. come lift this fOR MEEEEEEEE”
ESPECIALLYYYY if you’re taller than him oh my Lord
BUT HE’D DENY IT AT ALL COSTS !!!
changbin, pointing to an object on a tall shelf: “BABE can you get this for me? you’re so strong you can do it <3333”
you: “short ass-”
changbin: “hEY”
ALSO if you menstruate, i personally believe that he would be very comforting to have around during that time !!!!! just chillin on the couch !!!!!! vibin !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
your very own personal heating pad <33 jksjfd
potential pet names: babe, bunny, hot stuff (sometimes used for moments of sarcasm !!! there are lots of those..)
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◌ HYUNJIN
he’s very sweet and loving with you, which never changes despite anything you might be going through. like ,,,ever.
i can see him being especially sweet and helpful for someone who doesn’t want to or can’t surgically transition !!!!
would do everything he could to emphasize the fact that you’re his favorite boy !!!!
whether it’s through activities, pet names, playful jokes, etc., he always wants to remind you how manly and lovely you are !! lolll
i present to you a thought that just popped up in my head and Will Not Leave:
you might normally be the little spoon, but if you ever feel a bit off about your body or just don’t want to be held, THIS BOY WILL GET CURLED UP IN A LITTLE SPOON POSITION FOR YOU !! SO VERY FAST !!!
(is it also an excuse for him to be the little spoon? yeah maybe it is-)
potential pet names: hubby (regardless of whether or not you’re married sjdsdf), prince, things that start with “my”
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◌ JISUNG
asks lots of questions !!!!!!! whenever he’s not sure how to proceed with something or has any general questions about being trans or how to support you, he’ll be completely transparent with you about it.
even though it makes him a lil embarrassed 🥺🥺
will overuse the terms “dude” and “bro” just to make you laugh… but you both know there’s a hidden underlayer of validation there
loves cheering you up when you’re not feeling your best !!!
also ,,,,,,Youtube Research Enthusiast
“hey y/n check this out! let’s try it :D” and it’s a two minute video about how to naturally lower your voice
and you go along with it because a.) he’s cute for suggesting it, b.) it could actually be useful, and c.) he’ll look cute stretching his neck for a few minutes and it would be a valuable use of your time to watch him do it <3 jsjdfh
oh also !!!! we know he’s just Like This anyways, but he will indeed take every chance he gets to kiss random parts of your body like your hands, shoulders, the tip of your nose, and anything else you’re comfy with :) he just likes 2 smooch, what can i say?
potential pet names: anything silly !! bubba, baby/babycakes, good lookin’, etc.
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◌ FELIX
this is somewhat similar to what i’d suggested in my nonbinary coming out reaction, but i feel like he’d take a lot of care to make you feel more confident in yourself !!!
especially when it comes to your appearance !!!!! if you ever decide to try out a new hairstyle, different clothing, etc., he’d HYPE YOU UPPPPP omg
you: *exists*
felix: *silly smirk* “my handsome boy.. hehe” 🥺
bakes for u !!!!!!! will come over asap with freshly baked cookies if he even senses you might not be feeling your best !!!!!!!!!!!!!
we all know he’s a real cuddlebug, but since you’ve explained dysphoria to him (to the best of your ability), it’s very important to him that he doesn’t overstep with the physical affection
he might also suggest you use a code word or gesture to signify if it’s ok for him to get all close and cuddly with you !! he knows you have your off days, and the last thing he wants to do is emphasize your insecurities.
he loves you more than anything, and he just wants to see you smile :)
potential pet names: handsome, love, sweets (bc ya know,,, brownie boy things <3)
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◌ SEUNGMIN
would regularly spend hours and hours doing research on trans rights, different forms of transitioning, other people’s perspectives (both in his position and yours), etc
honestly i wouldn’t be surprised if he posted some questions on a website like reddit or quora or something from time to time SJDK (but eventually he’d be much more comfortable asking you directly, especially since he knows not every person is the same)
he really just wants to make sure he understands how you feel to the best of his ability in order to best care for you !!!
VERY VERY diligent if he has to adjust to new pronouns. would practice that shit like it’s his JOB.
i think he’d just be very scared of screwing something up, which you might have to console him about from time to time.
you know he’s trying his best to a.) not make this about himself and b.) do everything in his power to support you
sorta similarly to changbin, i think he’d be nice to have around if you’re ever on your period !! overall, this boy would do his RESEARCH
potential pet names: baby, mister (for some playful sarcasm), bear (or baby bear, honey bear, etc.)
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◌ JEONGIN
if you’re ever feeling dysphoric, depressed, anxious, or generally not the best, he will do WHATEVER IT TAKES to cheer you up.
you: :(
jeongin: “ok fine you have permission to poke my cheeks all day”
you: :D
jeongin: :D
is also very similar to changbin !!!!! he’ll very dramatically give up on a task that requires even the slightest bit of manliness just so you can do it for him…. because he’s laz- i mean thoughtful <33
ok picture something with me besties (and this is quite random so bear with me):
he buys you cologne. cute !! very sweet of him yes <3 …...but the Backstory-
he had No idea what kind to get, so he went to the store and tried on like 10 different kinds until he realized he could just swatch them on a piece of paper so now he’s covered in cologne and he buys the one he thought was his favorite but he comes home to realize it was the WRONG ONE so he has to go back to the store and test them all again until he finds the one
..all just so he could surprise you & make you feel more masculine :’)
anyways LONG STORY SHORT: innie best boy :D
potential pet names: bun (in reference to bread, of course. you must match.), handsome, sexy (BUT ONLY IF YOU SAY IT RIGHT BACK !!!!!! sexy loaf boyfriends aw <3)
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tags: @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @kisskissbanggang, @mr-jisung-main, @childofthecosmos, @kpopscape, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @sunshine-skz, @vera-liscious, @thatrandomoneinthecorner, @cyberskz​, @seungminsaidsta, @somethingrandomworld, @ethan806 ( join my tag list !! )
©️ cotccotc 2021 ~ all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.
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ppersonna · 4 years
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tempestuous - kth | m
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tem·pes·tu·ous - adjective - characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion
↳ summary- There’s no one who riles you up more than Kim Taehyung, your best friend’s brother.  He knows exactly how to make you fly off the handle.
↳ rating- explicit / 18+
↳ word count- 6.8k
↳ pairing- taehyung x reader
↳ genre- smut, minor angst i guess in the form of fighting, this is one big pile of smut, there’s some fluff too
↳ warnings- yikes where to begin.  angry sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don’t be like dis), slapping, spanking, pain kink, dom/sub elements, facefucking, really rough sex, finger sucking, derogatory names, uhhh name calling, hate sex, tae is fuckin nasty yall im thriving
↳ a/n- I HAD TO REUPLOAD bc tumblr sucks lol well folks. here we are.  i was given a prompt by @ladyartemesia​ so i blame her.  as for tae, he really came for me this week and completely wrecked me, love that for me. i really popped off here and it’s only edited by me so i’m SORRY if there’s a lot of mistakes.  fun fact i actually wrote almost 10k of another version of this but it frustrated me so badly i scrapped it lmao  🤡 HERE WE GO! Enjoy!  feel free to send in your requests and i promise to try and get it done for you! 
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Kim Taehyung could only be described in a few words.
Infuriating, bothersome, vexing.
Gorgeous, breathtaking, suave.
Absolutely, inherently maddening.
And you hate how much you absolutely melt underneath his gaze, the way your heart leaps into your throat with a single word.  Your body, the ultimate betrayer, opens up to him as your brain screams to abort, reverse, go back to start and do not pass go.
Kim Taehyung is not just the bane of your existence, no.  He’s the little brother of your best friend, Kim Namjoon.   Joonie had been in your life since you were in first grade and he in second.  Taehyung was your age, but you hit it off with the older boy and haven’t separated since.  Your mothers joked that you would get married one day and continue on the Kim line.  Until they found out that Namjoon was 1) bisexual and 2) hopelessly in love with, ironically, a man named Kim Seokjin.   He reasoned to his parents that they would at least carry on the Kim name.  
Where Namjoon was sweet, caring, and deeply compassionate towards you, Taehyung was his alter.  Taehyung was brash, cocky and relished in watching you squirm, whether it be out of fury or the god forsaken sexual tension.  All growing up, he was the one to pull your pigtails, trip you into puddles of mud, and tease you in front of your friends. Namjoon, ever the faithful companion, was always there to pick up the pieces of what Taehyung broke.
It’s been that way with Taehyung ever since. A constant tug of war with each other, both unwilling to give a single inch to the opponent.  
Your relationship with Namjoon remained steadfast as ever.  Namjoon eventually moved in with his now-husband, Seokjin, who easily settled into your life as an additional partner in crime.  You spent most of your days and nights settled into the couch, snuggled somehow in between or next to one of the two men you cherished most.  You had the two best friends you could ask for and a happy life, blissfully Taehyung-free.
Until it wasn’t.
A loud knock wakes you from an unexpected nap on Namjoon’s couch.  Your eyes crack open against the glare of the sunlight streaming through the windows.  It takes a moment to gather your surroundings.  You recognize that you’re in Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, and judging by the silence, you’re definitely alone there.  As you reach for your phone, the screen lights up the time.  5:34 pm.  Well, shit. You remember eating brunch and drinking mimosas at noon with your best friends and then lying on the couch to watch Netflix.  How had you fallen asleep for five hours?  How did you not wake? What the fuck did Jin put in his mimosas?
The knock is insistent again, louder this time.
“Joon! Jin! it’s me! Open up!”
The voice sounds familiar in your sleep-addled mind, but not quite enough to pinpoint it.   You push your limp body off the couch and wince at the feeling of sore muscles.  Couch sleeping isn’t all it’s cracked up to be once you’re past the age of 25.
“Sorry, Namjoon isn’t here-,” You open the door to explain to the guest and you’re cut off.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
You rub at your sleepy eyes and allow your vision to focus, only to feel your blood stand still in your veins.
Kim Taehyung.  Of fucking course.
“What do you mean, why am I here? I’m always here,” you tut as you fold your arms to your chest.  “What are you doing here?”
He rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, two suitcases clutched in each.  Who the fuck carries 4 suitcases up three flights of stairs? Kim annoying ass Taehyung does, apparently.
“I’m moving in.”  He pushes past you and into the living room.  
Your mouth gapes open.  Namjoon certainly didn’t tell you this.  Taehyung looks back at chuckles at your reaction.
“I’m guessing your best friend didn’t tell you the happy news?”
You shut your mouth, quickly jumping back into composure.  “No, he failed to mention that,” you sniff.  “I thought you lived with your girlfriend in Gangnam?  What was her name? Rose or whatever?”
Tae stiffens, just slightly for a moment, before he plasters back on the bravado.  “Obviously not anymore.  We broke up, she kept the apartment.  Got tired of moping at my mom’s house and I told Namjoon I wanted to come back to the city.”
You feel a slight tug at your stomach, guilt, perhaps?  You clear your throat.  “Oh, I’m sorry.”
He laughs as he sits on the couch, instantly throwing his feet onto the coffee table, like a heathen.  “No, you’re not.”  
“What do you mean, no I’m not? God, sorry for being polite!”
This, you reason, is why you can’t sustain longer than 5 minutes of civilized conversation with your best friend’s younger brother.  He’s impossible.
He just smirks, and you know he loves the rise he gets out of you.
“Because I know you, and I know you don’t give a fuck about my love life.”
Au contraire. If only he knew just how much you gave a fuck.
“That doesn’t mean I can’t be nice to you!” you nearly stamp your foot in frustration but hold yourself back. That would be too good of ammo for him to use against you.
“Okay, fine,” he acquiesces. “Whatever helps you feel you’re a good person.”
You’re seeing red and you know you want to continue screaming at him but you will not stoop to his level.
“Christ, I haven’t seen you in months and you’re still an asshole,” you say as you grab your keys and shoes. “And also, Jin will kill you if he sees your feet on his coffee table.”
You whip yourself around and open the door to leave and hear him call over your shoulder.
“Good to see you too, doll! Love the hairstyle, by the way.”
You close the door with a growl leaving your throat.  The absolute audacity of that man.
You stomp towards the elevator to take yourself to the ground level, when you catch your reflection in the shiny metal. Your hair is in what you can only lovingly call a complete hornet’s nest. It’s ratted and sticking out in places and you feel your cheeks burn.  Your first reintroduction with Taehyung is with a fight AND with you looking like a fool.
This would not do. No, sir.
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“Kim Namjoon!” you shriek into your cell phone.  You’re awkwardly pressing it against your ear with your shoulder as you walk out of the convenience store under your apartment building with 3 bottles of soju and a six-pack of beer. You needed to drown your shame and sorrow, and fast.
“Hello, love of my life and moon of my stars,” your best friend replies and you can hear Seokjin chuckle in the background.
“No!” You chide, already cracking a beer open as you storm into your apartment building. “Don’t you Khal Drogo me, mister! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me your fucking asshole brother was moving in with you?!”
Namjoon is silent and you can tell he’s wincing on the other end of the phone. “Oops?” He offers.
“Yeah, big oops! A heads up would have been nice! Like, ‘hey best friend, your worst enemy of all time is moving in today. Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep on my couch and wake up looking like Frankenstein’s ugly wife. Oh, and also my handsome boyfriend and I will just happen to not be there when he arrives’.”
By this time, you can tell Namjoon has put you on speakerphone because you can hear their rich laughter loud and clear. Rude bitches.
You stab your key code into your door and lock yourself in, chugging as much of the beer as you could handle.
“At least, even in her rants she thinks I’m handsome,” Jin gloats.
“I’m sorry babe,” Namjoon sighs as he finally calms down. “I didn’t know he would be there today. I just found out about it last night.”
You nibbled at your bottom lip, the annoying pit in your stomach feeling simultaneously guilty that he went through a breakup, unbridled joy that something brought him down a peg, and just a dash of excitement that he’s single now.
You let out a breath. “It’s okay, Joon.  It just surprised me to see him.”
Jin butts in, “And because you have a big, fat, unresolved crush on him.”
“Jin!” You admonish. The couple laughs again and you roll your eyes, asking yourself why you put up with the two. “I do not!”
They both hum a non-committal answer, implying they don’t believe you in the slightest.
“Whatever.  What are you guys doing, anyway?”
“We just got home from shopping.  God, Jin looked so good in these jeans he tried on.  I was actually just about to suck his coc-,”
“Kim Namjoon, do not finish that sentence! I do not wish to hear it!” You try to remain firm, but dissolve into giggles with the pair.
You could never stay mad at Namjoon long, even if his brother was the devil incarnate.
“Darling,” Jin calls through the phone.  “I still expect to see you at our place tonight for our sleepover.”
Christ, you had forgotten all about your scheduled sleepover night.  It was tradition and one of your favorite parts of your friendship with the couple.  Jin, a literal chef, prepared a five star meal along with dessert for you while you binge watched Netflix and talked incessantly.
But you also usually slept in their spare bedroom.  The exact one that Taehyung would be occupying.
“Fuck, while he’s there?”
“Oh suck it up,” Jin chides, like he’s your mother. “He’s probably not even going to leave his room.  You’re not getting out of this.  I’m making strawberry cheesecake.”
Your mouth waters at the idea of Jin’s famous cheesecake.  
“Fine, but I get to lick the bowl and not Namjoon.  Those are my terms.”
Namjoon squawked in defiance as Jin laughed.  “I agree to your terms.  Be at our place by 8.”
As you hung up the phone, you checked the time.  6:40.  God, he hadn’t left you with much time to get ready, did he?
And you definitely needed to get ready.  There was no way you were entering a room where Kim Taehyung exists looking like booboo the fool, not again.
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Your fingers press the 6 digit passcode to Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, arms heavy laden with your bag of toiletries and pajamas, and a bag full of wine.
“Honey, I’m home!” You announce as you toe off your shoes and slide into the combined kitchen and living room.
You receive no reply, but greeted with the amused face of none other than the object of your filthiest dreams, Taehyung.
“Pet names already?  We’re moving pretty fast, wouldn’t you say?” He asks you as he lounges at the kitchen table.  He watches you open the fridge to set the wine, as comfortable in their home as you are in yours.
“Fuck off,” you grumble. “Where’s your brother?”
Tae seemed absolutely tickled by your disgruntlement.  “I think they mentioned something about taking a shower.  That was 20 minutes ago, though.”
“Great,” you sigh. “Those fucking horn dogs act as if they’re still newlyweds.  We’ll be waiting awhile.”  
You tug off your sweater, leaving you to remain in a fitted tank top and yoga pants.  You tried to maintain a comfortable look as you dressed for the evening, while keeping in mind which leggings hugged your ass and showed off your toned thighs, and a tank top that dipped low to your cleavage.  Okay, so maybe you had ulterior motives. You wanted to make up for your dreadful appearance earlier and make him squirm, payback for the years of him doing it to you.
You watch him as he lets his eyes roam your body, eying you like he wants to ravage you completely. You feel victorious… and also turned on. Fuck, you played yourself.
You flop onto the couch in a huff and Tae snorts before joining you.
“What’s so funny?” You eye him suspiciously.
“Nothing,” his smile feigns innocence. “I’m not allowed to laugh?”
You sniff in annoyance, not eager to fall for his tricks. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, your highness.”  Sarcasm drips from your voice and Tae finds it even more humorous.
“I see you’re still a sassy bitch.”
You gasp, audibly startled by his language and rise from the couch, fists clenched.
“I see you’re still a conceited dick!”
He rises to meet you where you stand, eyes boring into your own with his stupid sexy grin on his face.  “I see you’re still not one to back down from a fight.”
You step closer, close enough to feel his breath on your face.  Idly, you note it smells like peppermint and you move closer on reflex.
“Yeah? I see you’re still not one to avoid starting a fight in the first place!” you huff.
“Oh, I started it?”  
“Yeah, you started it! You called me a bitch!”
You can’t believe this is happening.  You feel as if you’re 6 again and fighting with him over a toy.
“A sassy bitch, actually,” he corrects, taking another step forward, bodies touching.
“Fuck you!”
“Only if you say please,” he quips before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours in a scorching hot kiss.
There’s not even a moment of hesitation on your end, immediately pulling him even closer and wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing his tongue entrance to your mouth.  Your body reacts to his instantly, as if it’s wired to respond to him and him only. Your mind was blank of anything except Tae, only Tae please, and you acted purely on instinct alone.  And instinct was pulling him closer and begging, more, anything he could give.
The sound of laughter coming from the hallway pulls you apart, neither of you wanting to get caught by Namjoon or Jin.  You stare at him, his lips are cherry red and slightly swollen and the image burns into your retinas.  He has such pretty lips after you’ve kissed him.
“Oh hey! What’s going on here?” Namjoon asks as he notices the intense eye-battle you’re engaged in with his younger brother.
It shakes you out of the spell, eye contact broken and hypnosis halted.  
“Just, errrr,” you falter to find the right words to explain the situation.
“Just getting reacquainted.”  Tae sounds completely unaffected, as if the passionate kiss you shared with him seconds ago was but a distant memory.  Asshole.
“I’m surprised you two haven’t thrown anything at each other yet,” Jin laughs. “Or thrown yourselves at each other.”
Both you and Taehyung whip to look directly at Jin.
“Her!?” Tae is incredulous. “Gross.”
You’ll never admit out loud that his words wound you.
“You’re an asshole, Taehyung,” you punctuate your words by turning away from him and towards Namjoon, who appears amused as ever.
“Ah, I love when my best friend and my little brother are screaming at each other.  Feels like old times.  Can one of you cry now to complete the moment?”
Taehyung grumbles under his breath, something you can’t catch, and stalks off to his room.  The slam of his door reverberates in the apartment and Jin jumps and turns to yell down the hall at his brother-in-law.
“Yah! Don’t break my apartment! I still owe money on this!”
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Despite Taehyung’s appearance every so often in the kitchen or living room, the rest of the night goes on with no annoying disturbances.
Jin spoils you and his husband with expensive food, and the best cheesecake you’ve ever eaten in your life.  Plus, you’re given the bowl to lick clean despite a desperately adorable pout from Namjoon you were sure would persuade Jin.
You’re settled on the couch, snuggling in the middle of the couple as an action movie flickers across the big screen tv.  Truthfully, you haven’t paid attention to a single thing happening, your thoughts entirely too absorbed in Taehyung and that deliciously infuriating kiss.  
Why did he do it?  You couldn’t comprehend his reasoning.  Perhaps he was doing it to piss you off.  He’s never angered you with that level of intimacy before, but you didn’t put it past him.
You’re surprised when the credits of the movie start rolling and Jin and Namjoon fake loud yawns.
“Oh man, I’m beat,” Namjoon lies.
Jin is quick to join. “Me too, I think I’ll pass out the moment I hit the pillow.”
You roll your eyes at the men. “Will you two please go fuck already, I know that’s what you’re going to do.”
Namjoon blanches, but Jin laughs and kisses your cheek. “Ah, my smart, beautiful and chaotic child,” he coos. He leans in to your ear, voice low to keep his husband from listening. “I don’t think I’m the only one in this house who’s going to get pounded into a mattress.”  
He pulls back and winks at you, deftly ignores Namjoon’s confusion and sadness of being left out, and drags him to their bedroom with a loud ‘goodnight’.
You’re left to stew in your own emotions, which is never a good thing.  Was the tension that obvious? You always assumed it had been one-sided, but the kiss befuddled you more than you’d like to admit.
It finally snapped in your mind, all the dots connecting. That’s why he did it.  
He kissed you so you’d stew and simmer and eventually erupt, like you’re doing now.  Taehyung knows you too well for your comfort.
You grab your bag of clothes and storm towards the bathroom to change, promising yourself to forget about the kiss and not give Taehyung what he wants.
Except you’re not very good at promises, especially to yourself.
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You can’t say you’re excited to sleep on the couch again.  While it’s a nice couch, it’s definitely not a bed and your back will pay the price tomorrow.  You supposed it was better than the floor, but not by much.
After dressing in your pajamas, a purposefully picked out combination of tiny shorts and a sports bra in case Taehyung happens upon you, you return to your bed for the night in the living room.
Namjoon graciously left blankets and a pillow out for you, and you’re complaining internally about Taehyung the whole time you make yourself a spot to sleep.  If it wasn’t for stupid Taehyung and his stupid existence, you’d be sleeping like a baby on the guest bed that you loved.  But no, they relegated you to the couch like an animal.
Sleep was not in the cards tonight, it seems.  You toss and turn and try to press at the cushions to move a lump around and get comfortable, but it’s all for naught.  You’re wide awake and very, very uncomfortable.  You didn’t understand how you fell asleep on this very couch earlier in the day.  Maybe the mimosas you had at brunch with the couple had been helpful.
A thought crosses your mind. Alcohol.  Maybe a nice glass of wine would help tuck you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.  A nightcap. Of course.  You were angry at yourself for not thinking of it hours ago.  
You slipped out of your disagreeable bed and into the kitchen, trying not to make a sound.  Jin’s beloved kitchen was also an echo chamber of noise, even the slightest sound bouncing off its walls and amplifying it through the whole house.  You still remember the way you jumped five feet in the air when Jin accidentally broke a plate.  It sounded like a bomb explosion.
You bite your lip as you carefully pry the cabinet of wine glasses open, careful to not even allow a squeak of a hinge.  You silently beg to stay silent and not wake anyone in the house.  You didn’t want to be caught drinking wine at 2 am in the dark, that’s difficult to explain without looking like an alcoholic.
With glass in hand, you tiptoe the fridge to pull out the bottle of merlot, thinking the heavy red wine would be the best to get you sleepy and quick.  
You tug the cork from the bottle and pour a healthy amount into the stemware with a smile.  Liquid sleep.  And you had done it without making a single sound. Perfection. The smell of the alcohol permeates through your nose as you lift the glass, placing it to your lips to take a sip.
“Wine at this hour?” the unexpected voice of Taehyung echos through the kitchen, making you yelp and jolting you hard enough that you drop the hard-earned glass of wine to the tile floor, red wine splashing as the sound of glass shattering is reverberating off the walls.
“Fuck!” You screech at the intruder.  Taehyung doubles over, laughing as if he’s seen nothing funnier than what just transpired.  “You asshole!”
You listen past Taehyung’s incessant laughter to ensure the owners of the apartment hadn’t awoken during the ruckus. You definitely did not want to face a tired and agitated Jin to tell him you shattered one of his Tiffany crystal goblets.
Beyond Tae, the house is silent and you’re thanking whatever god is listening for keeping your best friends asleep.
The wine is everywhere, spilling into the cracks of the tile and splattered on the walls.  The crystal stemware is too; it shattered with such force that you see flecks of the shrapnel in all four corners of the room.
Tae wipes a tear from his face and you square a tempestuous look at him.  
“Fucking help me!  You made me drop it!”
Through snorts, he replies. “I didn’t make you do anything.  You did that on your own.”  Although he is arguing with you, he’s gingerly stepping into the kitchen and kneeling to pick up shards of glass.
“I wouldn’t have dropped it if you had come into the room like a fucking normal person,” you grit.
He collects the glass, the delighted grin on his face now permanent.  He’s relishing in your annoyance, you know he is, and it burns you from the inside out.
“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”
“You could have turned on the light! Why were you in the dark like a freak?”  You’re grasping at straws, anything to pin this all on him.  It would quell the fire in your belly to push it all onto him, make you feel as if you’ve won.
Taehyung levels a look at you.  “And you weren’t also in the dark? Pouring a gallon of wine for yourself?”
Your cheeks flare red. Fuck, he definitely caught you there.  You’re playing verbal poker with him and the hand you’re dealt falls flat compared to his royal flush.  He grins, knowing he has you.
“Fuck you,” you snark, you go to insult when you’re backed into a corner.
“Ah, doll,” he winks.  “We talked about that.  Be careful what you wish for.”
The fire inside you is roaring to an inferno now, flames licking to your core. It’s a complicated mixture of anger and sexual energy. It’s infuriating that he’s able to make you feel every single emotion to the extreme. You hate that arguing with him turns you on, like it’s some perverse foreplay.  
You moisten your lips with your tongue as you process his words, and Tae’s eyes hungrily track the appendage as it glides over your lips.
“Fuck. You.” You emphasize perfunctorily.
All thoughts of wiping up the mess are forgotten as Tae drags both you and himself off the floor and steers you to the living room, lips feverish against your own.  He pushes you into the couch and tugs his shirt off, before replacing his lips to yours.  
“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot when you’re a bitch,” he groans as he snaps the strap of your sports bra. “Seeing you get all worked up makes me so hard.”
He’s not wrong. You can see through his mesh basketball shorts that he’s sporting an impressive package, rock hard in its clothed prison.
“Yeah?” You bite at his lip.
“Hell yeah.”  His hands work to the elastic band under your bust and tugs the offending material off, tits springing free as he throws it to the floor.  
“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathes as he gets a good look at your chest.
You shake them gently, grinning as he watches them jiggle.  “You like what you see?”
He smirks and pinches a nipple, wiping the coy smile off your face and turning it into a moan.  “I like when you’re mouthy, but don’t push it.”  
He lowers his head to the nipple he’s still pinching in his fingers, licking at it and replacing his fingers with his mouth.  He’s moaning around the nipple, and you’re gasping for more.  His hot mouth sucks at you, teeth nibbling and pulling it until you’re whimpering in delicious pain.
“Fuck!” He cries as he pops away from your nipple.  “You’re so fucking hot.”
Your body warms at his words, arousal pooling between your legs.  You’re sure that your thighs are drenched in your essence.
He slurps your neglected breast into his mouth, ensuring your nipples are equally abused.  His tongue is skilled but his mouth is messy, saliva dripping all around your tit and it’s the hottest fucking sight you’ve ever seen.
He’s pulling away again and pinching both nipples with his hands simultaneously. “And you’re so fucking annoying.”
You’re pleading for more or to stop, you’re not sure.  He continues.
“Mm, I’m gonna fuck you until you’re a good little bitch for me. Listening to every fucking thing I say.”
He releases your nipples, and you finally find the ability to focus again, staring directly at him.
“Oh, you think you’re that good?” you sass as you attempt to catch your breath.  “Put your money where your mouth is.”
Tae grips your chin roughly, face inches away from yours with a sadistic grin. “You’re going to regret those words, baby.”
Instantly, he’s standing up and tugging his shorts down to let his cock spring free.  Your brain misfires as you visually measure his cock and your mouth goes dry. He’s thick and long. The bulbous head is dripping pre-cum, begging you to slurp it up.
“How about I put my money where your mouth is,” he suggests as he grabs a fistful of your hair.  
He teasingly rubs his cock on your lips and cheeks, makes you whimper with need. Your tongue is sticking out, desperate for him to lay it on you.
“Already so fucking greedy,” he grunts and in one motion, directs his dick into your open mouth. “I’ll fuck your throat, yeah? Greedy bitches love getting face fucked.”  He is still for a beat more, eyes searching yours for consent and you nod with his cock still in your mouth. He winks, then begins a rapid pace, his cock fucking into your mouth and throat.
You’re sure you look like a goddamn mess with saliva dripping from your mouth as Taehyung punishes your throat with his thrusts.  You gag and moan around him, and he tightens his grip in your hair as you see stars.
It’s indescribable. Never have you felt such pleasure from sucking cock, but Tae commands your entire body, willing you to drip with anticipation.
“My little fuck toy, god you feel so fucking good,” he hisses. “You’re gonna swallow my cum, baby.”  
His hips are stuttering, he’s close, and you’re sucking him harder, cheeks pulling in harder to vacuum him in. The pressure makes him groan out loud.
“So good, so fucking good. Get ready for your prize, baby,” his voice cuts off in a gasp, as his cock twitches violently. His legs shake and he doesn’t hold back the moans of his orgasm, gasping as he feels rope after rope spill down your hot throat.
Your big doll eyes are twinkling up at him, lips still wrapped around his cock. Taehyung is sure it’s the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his lifetime.  You on your knees, subservient to him and thriving for it.
“Mmm, I like it when your mouth is full like this,” he slowly pulls out of your mouth, albeit reluctantly. “Can’t talk back to me when you’re sucking my cock like a whore.”
You smile and stick out your tongue, pleased to show him you happily accepted his cum.
“Good fucking girl,” he coos as he grips your chin again. “Did you like my cum?”
You nod, brain fried from the heat of the room.
“Use your words,” he grits and grips your jaw harder. It’s enough to shock you into compliance.
“Y-yes! Fuck, I love your cum, Tae.”  Your words are breathy and raspy, throat raw from his barrage.
“I knew you would, filthy slut.  Sit on the couch.” He orders and you’re quick to scurry and sit on the makeshift bed you made.
His hands are tugging down your shorts quickly. No teasing or seduction here, not now. You lift your hips, and he throws them aside. Your legs close on reflex, making him growl.
“Do not hide yourself from me.” His tone is dark and you can’t help but shiver as you open yourself up to him. You want to talk back, want to fight and bite at him, but you’re quickly losing the ability to even speak, and you’re aching for him.
“Where’s my mouthy little bitch? You’re awfully quiet. Did I finally break you?” He teases, pressing your legs upward, knees to your ears. It’s pornographic how on display you are for him, soaking wet cunt front and center.
“The great Taehyung thinks he can break me with his cock,” you mewl, mustering all the false confidence you can. You’re lying through your fucking teeth and you both know it, but you continue. “You’ll have to do more than that.”
Your pussy is quaking with need now, desperate for a single touch. His hands maintain purchase on the backs of your thighs, holding them up.
“There she is,” he bites at the flesh of your leg closest to him which makes you jerk in his hold. “Gonna fuck the brat right out of you.”
He removes a hand from your thigh and you’re quick to pick up the slack, holding the thigh in place to maintain his open show of your pussy.
“Try me,” you murmur, and you’re instantly regretting your words as a harsh slap descends and lands square on your cunt.
You nearly scream, pain flooding your wanton pussy, before turning into delicious pleasure that stings and tingles right at your clit. It sizzles, and warmth blooms where his hand was.
“That’s for not believing me.”  His eyes are feral and you want to bottle this memory forever.  
Another slap has your legs trembling, eyes rolling back as the burn turns to a low heat.  You’re dripping your wetness down onto the couch and Jin will kill you, but you don’t care.
“That was for calling me a dick,” he smirks.
Smack.
Tears spring in your eyes as the slap brings more pleasure than pain, desperately close to your edge.
“Look at you, you could cum just from this, couldn’t you?”
“F-fuck! Yes, please, I need more, please!” Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for friction and leaking out of you like a faucet. Taehyung marvels at you, legs spread so far, with a cunt weeping with arousal for more. He can’t wait to dive in there, but he’s not finished with you yet.
“More? I don’t know if you deserve more, baby, you’ve been awfully mean to me,” he tsks, breathing hot air on your clit, making you whine.
“P-please! I’m sorry!” You’re sure you will black out with how desperately you need him. You need him more than you need oxygen.
“Beg.”
You’re quick to submit. Thoughts of fighting back are long gone, you’re his wanton little slut now.
“Please, please! Pleaseeeee, make me cum! I’ll do anything.”
“Anything?” He asks with an arch of his eyebrow.
You’re nodding wildly, gazing at him with desperate, watery eyes.
“Anything, I need you so f-fucking bad it hurts!”
By the time the words leave your lips, he’s thrusting two fingers into your cunt viciously, fingering you ferociously. He arches them, rubbing against your spongy g-spot and making you scream. He knows you’re close, knows you only need one little push off the edge. He plays your body like a skilled practitioner.
“Cum on my fingers, baby. Let me see my greedy little bitch milk my fingers.”
Your body and mind react accordingly, deep down you know your body is owned completely by him, all his.  Your orgasm explodes and you think you actually scream, your vision is black and your hearing goes silent for a moment as you cum harder than you have in your life.  You’re squeezing his fingers with your pussy so tight and Taehyung is gently licking all the juices from his hand with his fingers still inside you.
It takes time to descend from the separate plane of existence Taehyung sent you too, but you come back and watch as he laps at the liquid of your cunt and on his hand like it’s a vital necessity. His fingers remain in your walls, and he refuses to break eye contact with you. You’re positive you could cum again from the sight.
“My little cockslut tastes so good, just how I like,” he tells you tenderly. “Like cherries, so sweet.  My little cherry.”
Your cunt is aching and warming back to life as he pulls his fingers out of you. The loss is immense and you’re whimpering for more.
“Ah, ah,” he hushes you. “No whining. You’ll take what I give you.  Suck my fingers clean. Taste yourself.”
He presses his fingers into your mouth, earning him a sigh, the taste of you filling your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his fingers and suckle each one to ensure your tongue laves the entire surface.
“Fuck,” he whispers and it’s his first crack in his steel reserve. “Needy.”
He pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses against you to kiss. It’s gentle, sweet, and nothing compared to the man assailing your pussy with slaps moments ago. It thrills you just the same and you return in kind, threading your hands in his wavy hair.
He pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, a moment of gentleness you actively welcome.
“This little cunt ready for me?” He whispers and you’re whimpering your reply.
“Please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”
He grins and presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and chaste, before he pulls away and slides down to attach those same sinful lips to your pussy.
It’s so unexpected you flinch and manage a cry as his tongue slurps up more of your delicious essence and his mouth moves to suckle on your clit. You’re not sure where the fuck he learned these tricks, but you know now you will never let him go.
“Taehyung!” You cry at the sensation. “Fuck!”
After receiving the reaction he was desperate for, he slips his tongue into your walls deep and gathers as much of you as he can, before he’s pulling back and swallowing you down.
“I couldn’t resist. Your cunt was made for me to devour.”
He doesn’t allow for a response as he throws your legs over his shoulders and lines himself up at your core.
“Condom?” He asks you, and you level a quick look at him.
“I don’t live here! I don’t have any!”  You’re savage, terrified he’ll pull his cock away when all you want and can think about is the way he’ll feel pounding into you.
“Don’t be rude, baby,” he reminds you with a swat to your ass. “I’m clean, promise. You?”
You nod quickly, reveling in the spank’s tingle. “Same. I have an IUD too,” you sigh. Thank god for medical birth control implants.
“Good. You’re the only pussy I’m gonna fuck from now on,” he promises. You know you must talk about this later, when you’re thinking rationally and not with your aching pussy.  
Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat but all is forgotten as he plunges into your tight heat.
“Ohhhhh shit, ahhh,” he gasps. “Baby, you’re so fucking tight and wet.”  He’s on the verge of whining, becoming just as needy and greedy as you.  He wastes no time in setting a pace.
His cock fills you completely, his angle allowing him to go as deep as he can, pressing the beginning of your cervix.  This is surely what heaven feels like.  It feels like the completeness you feel with Taehyung fully sheathed inside you.
It comes alive with flames and explosions as he fucks you, hips pistoning to plunge in and out of you with tenacity.  He fucks you like he laces every single thrust with more, more than just sex. He fucks you with purpose.
You’re moaning like a pornstar now, high pitch wails and gasps and breathy moans are all you can manage. “Taehyung, yes! Feel so g-g-good!”
“That’s right baby, scream my fucking name. Make sure all the neighbors know who fucking ruined you,” he nearly spits, cock thrusting into your core at an impossible speed. “I want you to tell all of Korea who owns you. Who owns this tiny little cunt?”
The wind leaves you, and you’re gasping for air, gaping mouth open as you try to reply. It takes him fucking into you harder a few times before you feel it rush back into you.
“You, Taehyung!  You!  Fuck, I love your cock!”
His thumb rubs at your engorged clit, allowing it the friction it seeks.  He bends forward and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing.  
Losing air combined with the friction on your clit has you keening, so close to the edge. You try to babble his name but nothing comes out.
“Look at my pretty little slut taking my cock so well,” he praises.  “You have the greediest pussy, don’t you? You need my cock daily, baby. Need to put my mouthy bitch in her place, remind her who’s in charge.”
He slows his pace but his thrusts are punishing, fucking into you as hard as he can. Your orgasm is climbing so impossibly high.
“F-fuck!” You gasp as he releases his grip on your neck. “Gonna cum! Please let me cum!”  
“Yeah baby, cum for me.  Cream your greedy pussy all over my cock.”
The world stops spinning as you hit the height of your climax and plunge down.  Your vision goes black and your body is quivering and convulsing nearly as hard as your cunt is. Taehyung hisses at your walls sucking him in, as if you’re begging for his cum, begging for more.
“Fuck, good girl, baby, holy shit,” he’s breathless and so close.
You’re overstimulated, boneless, but he wrought two of the best orgasms you’ve ever felt in your life and you’ll be damned if you leave him high and dry.  You bite your lip as you move with him, hips pounding against each other. His face is scrunched up and you know he’s close when he’s stuttering on his words.  You take over for him.
“Please cum in me baby, please.  Fill me up. I’m yours, baby, mark my little cunt as yours.”  You don’t know where it’s coming from, but you keep it going. It feels as natural as fucking him does. “Please, Taehyung!”
At the sound of his name leaving you in a whine, he spirals down his own completion. He feels his cock pulse as he empties his load into you, your walls still reverently beckoning for him. He’s calling out your name, grasping at your tits as he finishes and you’re smiling from ear to ear. Your pussy is warm with his seed and you’re positive it’s the way you want to feel every single night.
“Holy fuck,” Taehyung rasps as he pulls his cock out of you. He thrills as he watches his cum follow, slipping out your folds and down your thigh. “I definitely marked you.”
You hum in reply, finally allowing yourself to soak in the haze of orgasmic bliss. Tae presses his head to yours again, kissing you sweetly.
“Come sleep in my bed?” He asks. He means more behind it. He wants to ask you to sleep in his bed every night, stay with him every day, be the one he grows old with. He knows there’s still more to talk about, wounds of the past to heal, but now you’re with him, and he knows he’ll work through anything.
You nod, and kiss him again, understanding his hidden meaning laced in his words.
A sly smile spreads across his face. “Last one to bed has to take the blame for the wineglass,” he teases. Your head spins as if you’ve got whiplash.  He can switch from dominating to sensitive to the little shit he is so quick.
“Hey! No fucking fair! You fucked my ability to run out of me!”
“Shouldn’t have been such a sassy bitch,” he winks before he tears away towards his room.
“Taehyung, you’re an asshole!” You call as you limp your way behind him.
From behind Joon and Jin’s door, a critical voice bellows, “YAH! I’ll kill you if you got your jizz on my couch! And what is this I heard about my glass!!? HEY!  Those are TIFFANY. CRYSTAL. THE DISRESPECT!”
You slip into Taehyung’s bed and wrap yourself around him, the two of you gasping with mischievous giggles.
Kim Taehyung will always be the one who knows how to drive you wild. He’ll always aggravate and infuriate you, send you reeling.
But now you didn’t think you minded it at all.
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© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.
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annabethy · 3 years
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“never do that again” and/or “that was embarrassing”
perhaps,, in the tiktok au if you want😳 bc i’m way too excited about that one
in which annabeth embarrasses herself but doesn’t mind too much,, percabeth,, part 3 of tiktok au
The way Annabeth wakes up is not at all what she expected. Her eyes blink open slowly, and she is in a bed with sheets too soft to be hers. Her senses are on high alert when she sees a wall that definitely isn’t the color of her bedroom, and she spends so much time observing the area around her that she fails to notice the strong arm that’s curled around her waist until someone shifts behind her.
A featherlight kiss is pressed to the curve of her ear, and she suddenly recalls who exactly is behind her and why. It brings a flush and a smile to her face all at once.
“Hey,” Percy whispers, a delicious low scratch to his voice. He stretches his legs, and she can feel is very bare skin against her own naked legs. “You awake?”
Annabeth smiles softly into the sheets when his arm tightens. “No.”
“Mh-hm.” His face presses into her neck, nose nudging the soft skin. She can hear him yawn quietly, and she certainly agrees with the action. There’s a subtle ache in her body and she is absolutely exhausted. “Are you as tired as I am?”
“Entirely spent,” she says, voice pausing when he bends down to brush his lips against the spot of smooth skin right between her shoulder blades.
Annabeth isn’t sure what she should say when he doesn’t answer. She had zero intentions of coming and sleeping with him when they were supposed to film tiktoks. It’s not something she usually does either, but she can’t say that she regrets it in the slightest. It’s the best thing to happen in the last week, if she’s being honest.
Percy sits up behind her, the thin sheets pooling around his hips, exposing her back to the cold air of his apartment. She’s not facing him, but she can hear his breathing and when he scratches at his chin, no doubt lining with stubble. The thought makes her bite her lip. The bed dips slightly when he slides off of the mattress, and then there’s a quiet curse at the cool touch of the hardwood floor.
When he comes around the bed so that he is within eyesight, she notices that he has thrown on a pair of sweatpants but kept a shirt off. She lets herself shamelessly scan over him, and he just squeezes her foot accusingly.
He smiles at her softly, fingers scratching her lower leg from over the blanket. “Breakfast?”
She groans, shoving her face back into the mattress. As much as she would love staring at Percy while he makes her food, no doubt a sight she doesn’t want to miss, her brain is also still too hazy for it to possibly be time for her to get up. “What time is it?”
“Eight.”
Annabeth chokes. “Eight?!”
“What? Do you have something against the number eight?”
“Eight a.m.,” she mutters in disbelief. “Who wakes up at eight in the morning?”
“I do,” he says, laughing.
Annabeth lifts her head just to scrunch her nose at him in disgust before she very pointedly turns over in bed. “I simply cannot wake up before ten or else I don’t work.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she confirms, closing her eyes and smothering a smile when his fingers pull the blanket down her back a little bit so he can rub the skin soothingly. “Unless you’re going to kick me out?”
Percy blows air through his lips dismissingly. “Kick you out? Never.”
She looks over her shoulder. “Can I please go to back to sleep?”
“Go for it,” he says kindly. “What do you want to eat though? So I can have it ready when you wake up?”
“Cinnamon rolls,” she says, not at all expecting him to actually make it. Her eyes flutter shut again, and she hears him give a low chuckle. She is surprised when he bends down to her side to press a kiss to her cheek, and when he walks out of the room to leave her be, she wonders what exactly it all means.
Certainly this isn’t the way a one-night-stand plays out, but is that even what it really is? Surely Percy doesn’t treat all of his hookups with cuddles and kisses the morning after. She decides she’ll figure it all out later because she’s already beginning to knock back out.
Annabeth thinks the only reason she truly wakes up is because of the warm smell wafting in through the open door. The sweet scent makes her smile. She stretches, back popping deliciously, and she feels much more awake. She decides it’s probably best to get up. It takes her a good few minutes of searching for the shift she’d had on last night before she settles on throwing on his oversized t-shirt and calling it a day. It falls just below the curve of her ass, and the sleeves almost reach her elbow, but it also smells like him and makes her feel happy.
She stumbles out into the living room. Percy is sitting at the kitchen island, his back to her. He’s thrown on a shirt sometime while she was asleep.
Annabeth reaches behind him, settling her chin on his shoulder as her arms wrap around his waist. “You actually made cinnamon rolls,” she notes, smiling into his neck.
Percy tenses, and her mind blares with alarm. Her head whips toward him, expecting to find his face filled with annoyance, much like any other experience sleeping over with a guy.
Instead, he’s suppressing a smile, and a second later, dropping his face into his hands.
“Annabeth,” he whispers, a touch of humor in his voice, “I’m on a live.”
She blinks and looks towards the screen she just noticed in front of him. It’s a live recording, and she sees over one-hundred thousand people are joined.
Oh god.
She just about dies from mortification on the spot.
“Oh.” Annabeth takes an immediate step back, her face blazing with heat.
She just walked up to him wearing nothing except his shirt, and she just kissed his neck, and this is not good.
Percy, of course, just smiles and drags her closer. “Do you want to say hello?”
“Absolutely not.”
He shakes his head, laughing. He reads from the screen, “Why is Annabeth naked in your apartment?”
She groans miserably.
“She’s not naked,” Percy says. “Next question.”
Annabeth covers her face. “Percy.”
He looks at her again. It’s a soft glance, understanding, and he turns back to the camera. He ends the live rather quickly, but she knows the damage is already done. He has twenty million people following him, and every single one of them is going to know within hours.
“Come here,” Percy says, tugging her closer. He wraps his arms around her waist. “Are you okay?”
“That was embarrassing,” she whispers miserably.
“I’m sorry,” he says, but he’s laughing. “I thought you’d be asleep for at least another hour.”
She just makes a sound that’s a mix between a groan and whimper.
“It’s not that bad,” he soothes. “They’ll all forget about it soon enough.”
“We’ve both been doing this long enough to know otherwise.”
Percy laughs.
“This isn’t funny,” she accuses.
Percy’s hand moves from her waist so he can pinch his fingers together. “It’s a little bit funny.”
Annabeth pushes his shoulder without force, but even her lips are turning up in a smile. His grin is just contagious – it’s hardly her fault.
“You’re so beautiful,” Percy whispers, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face.
She raises an eyebrow but makes no comment. This feels like so much more than a hookup, and she finds that she likes the thought.
“I like the clothes,” he says in admiration. “You look good in my clothes.”
“Yeah, well I couldn’t find my shirt.” Annabeth’s face drops back into the crook of his neck as his hands trail down slightly beneath the edge of the shirt. She breathes him in and says the first thing she thinks of to change the subject. “You made cinnamon rolls?”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“I didn’t think you’d actually make it.”
“Of course I did.”
She spots grabs a half-eaten cinnamon roll from his plate and takes a bite out of it. It’s amazing, really, still warm and gooey. Annabeth thinks she could eat a million of these, and she tells him just that.
“I made it with a touch of love.”
“Do you always make cinnamon rolls with love for all of your hookups.”
“There aren’t enough hookups to make a definitive decision on that,” he tells her. “But I wouldn’t call you a hookup.”
“You wouldn’t? Then what was that we did last night?”
“Hookup sounds too neutral, like I don’t care about you, and that’s not true at all.”
The words make her tingle. “You like me.”
Percy laughs, and it’s a melody in her ears. “Yes, you’re like my middle school crush.”
“So what does this make us then?”
“You tell me.” It’s exactly what he said last night, except she hadn’t answered him that time. At least not with words.
“I mean, people definitely think we’re dating now that they saw me wandering around in just your shirt.”
“I guess we have an image to uphold then?”
“We also met yesterday,” she reminds him.
“Then let me take you out. A real date.”
She smiles. “A real date?”
“We never did make it to that diner.”
“And then what?”
“Then I take you on another date?”
“Then?”
“Another, and another, until you fall in love with me.”
It’s a bold statement but based on how she’s feeling after only one day, she doesn’t doubt that it’ll happen, as long as he keeps looking at her like she has the stars in her eyes.
“I don’t know,” she says. “I think you might fall in love with me first.”
“A part of me already has.” Percy kisses her once. “I love your personality.” He kisses her forehead. “Your humor.” Nose. “Your selflessness.” Neck. “Everything about you.”
“You know all of that already?”
“I’ve been following you for a while,” he says. She laughs slightly because it’s a statement that would sound creepy if it weren’t for why they met. “But you can call it intuition.”
And she thinks that this might turn into something beautiful.
She surges up to catch his lips. It starts sweet – she can taste the frosting from the cinnamon rolls on him – and quickly turns more fiery. He bites at her lower lip, hands roaming on every piece of skin he can possibly reach. He rucks up the shirt slightly, kisses her harder, and she’s dizzy with affection. But he stops himself, and she does too.
“Do you have anything to do today?”
“Depends on what you have in mind,” she says, sly.
He hums and picks up the abandoned cinnamon roll to take a bite before speaking. “How about we go to a diner, and then we spend the day out? Maybe we’ll fall in love in the process.”
She plucks the treat from his fingers and takes her own bite. “I think I’m ready to fall in love.”
Annabeth would never admit it, but she thinks that’s the day she really does fall in love. He’s everything she never knew she was missing in her life. He takes her to eat, and then they walk around the city. It’s a simple date, but one that fits them so well. His eyes never leave her, and it leaves her even deeper into this love they’ve created.
They definitely run into a few of their followers while they’re out, and every single time, it’s a show trying to explain themselves. But they always leave hand in hand, smiles plastered on their faces. It consumes all of her, and she doesn’t mind one bit.
It’s insane to think that this is because of tiktok of all things, but she supposes love has always been mysterious.
After all, the goddess of love sprang from the sea, and the handbook of love was written in invisible ink.
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shotorozu · 3 years
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“you didn’t think getting a classmate thrown at you would cause you to choke in silence— and by some miracle, todoroki is the first one to catch on.”
legend : [Y/N = your name] f!reader with they/them pronouns, all might’s daughter reader, reader has a telekinesis quirk
warnings : swearing because of bakugou, choking, if you ever hit your windpipe and you start choking, get help right away!
notes : i’m trying a new format for fics! (and drabbles) idk why i’m going on a todoroki dump lately, it’s his birthday after all. ALSO I WAS ALMOST DONE BUT GRRR TUMBLR RELOADED. i was so mad lol. so i don’t really like this but DONT WORRY!! i’m making another fic.
»»————- ♡ ————-«
It’s been almost 4 months since your first year at UA had started, and you’d think by now— you would’ve gotten used to all the hectic things that had to come.
Nope, not in the slightest bit.
Though you do love the class, and you enjoy being around them since they all seem like nice people, (minus one person) the class itself goes haywire with their frenzied energies.
Sometimes you wonder if you’re able to keep up with them, since they all have such excentric and unique personalities. They somehow manage to keep the room’s atmosphere lifted up with their voices, that are accompanied by lighthearted jokes.
But today, it seemed to be out of your favor.
You’re in your seat, recalling what your father— All Might, had said about your progression, and how he planned on helping you work with your quirk more.
Needless to say, you’re quite delighted to hear that your father wants to pay more attention to you, since he was mostly just focusing on Midoriya.
But your train of thought is cut short when you see Mineta fly towards your way, practically knocking into your entire front, and jamming into your windpipe— as it bounces from you and towards the wall.
“Damn grape fruit, learn some fucking decency for once,” You can hear Bakugou call out to him, and you can assume it was him that decided to throw your classmate at you
“Sorry, Y/N!” Kirishima calls out to you, noticing how his hot headed friend chucked the short, and purple haired classmate towards your direction.
You try to play it off cool, since you can’t even be mad. Even though Bakugou’s quite a spiteful person, he probably didn’t mean to throw Mineta at you.
Your seatmate, Todoroki looks at you as if like he was analysizing you. His mismatched gaze locked onto you with concern, I mean.. how could he not? Mineta has been thrown on you.
The air escapes you for a moment, and you try to breathe in to counter it. But it doesn’t work, as it became futile.
You blink, and you try again— trying your best to just breathe damnit, you’re questioning what’s all of this for? And it feels like you’re suffocating.
It’s all very sudden too, and without any warning. You can practically the way your heart hammers against your chest violently, and you try your best to not make too many movements. Okay, just breathe Y/N, am I having an attack right now? It really can’t be, can it?
You grasp your chair as you need something to grip on— facing yourself away to prevent any attention to be drawn towards you, since that’s the last thing you want. Every second that passes, it gets even more difficult to take in the air, and it feels like your life actually slipping away from your grasps.
Was it even possible to choke from getting your windpipe hit by Mineta? You never thought it would happen to you, since your quirk allows you to protect yourself— curses. What would your dad think of this? It’s not like you expected this to happen in a classroom.
A calm voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and suddenly you feel a cool hand press against your nape— “Did you hurt your windpipe, L/N?”
Todoroki’s eyes scan over your facial features calmly, noting about every single red flag that’s shown on your face, that’s practically screaming for something
You feel shame course out your entire body due to the situation, but you nod— still unable to accumulate proper words due to the current situation
The dual quirk user says nothing. However, his actions are quick, moving infront of you to shield you from any attention. His other hand resting against your back— proping you up right, so your position on the chair isn’t hunched uncomfortably.
His hand caresses your back up and down, giving out instructions for your labored breathing— “Breathe in,” he commands calmly, activating his quirk in hopes of aiding you “Breathe out,”
You finally manage to get in some air, inhaling through your mouth, and sharply exhaling the air back out. It feels so good to be able to breathe again, and you’re confident that after this— you won’t take it for granted again.
Unfortunately, the situation hadn’t been discreet enough— as it managed to grasp the attention of Midoriya and Yaoyorozu, they crowd at your desk. Asking Todoroki if there’s an issue, concern lacing their tones.
But you’re overwhelmed, eyes threatening to close. Your body slumping against your desk, and you fall unconscious.
It was interesting describing the situation to Recovery Girl, and also to your father.
All Might being concerned was an understatement. He was concerned about how it happened, and how he could’ve prevented the situation if he was there. (But he’s not to blame, at all.)
Briefly after you fell unconscious, attention was gravitated towards you— as everyone was clearly concerned. Then, you were dragged to Recovery Girl by two of your classmates; Kirishima and Midoriya, since Midoriya couldn’t stop rambling about his concern towards you.
“Your windpipe got hit, and the impact blocked it.” Recovery Girl explains, briefly after using her quirk on you “And it appeared to be that you’ve gotten the wind knocked out of you. Good grief, who throws people in classrooms? I could give them a scolding right now.” Recovery Girl rants.
You wince at the problem, “Ah.. there’s no need for that. I’d suppose it’s partially my fault for having my guard down.” You grin, but she doesn’t look amused.
Recovery Girl can only sigh, placing a hand on your shoulder. It’s her way of comfort, you’d guess. “Either way, it was still careless of them. I’d go on and on, but for now, you just need to rest right here— you were overwhelmed back there so it’s important to get some rest.”
Recovery Girl’s partially right. So after resting for a little bit longer, you finally leave the infirmary. But you flinch in surprise; a little startled when you meet Todoroki— who’s leaning right behind the door.
“Ah, Todoroki,” You wave at him, and.. you honestly don’t know where to start. Especially after the classroom situation. “I want to apologize about what happened back there. You didn’t need to do that.”
He shakes his head, “It’s alright, L/N. It’s.. what I had to do anyway.” His brows furrow, remembering what happened back in the classroom.
“Besides that.. are you okay? You didn’t damage your throat, did you?”
You laugh, and it may or may not have been in attempt to make the situation light hearted. “My windpipe got blocked, and apparently, I got the wind knocked right out of me! I didn’t know there was an actual name for that! I should really be cautious next time.”
His lips turn up, and he releases a short chuckle— “I suppose it’s a learning lesson for both parties.”
The walk back is.. rather shameful. How were you supposed to go back there, almost as if you didn’t nearly die? choked? The lack of conversation is painful on your ears, and partially on your ego since the silence is almost awkward.
You don’t know what he’s thinking.
“So!” You decide to break the silence, heterochromatic eyes laid on you as he awaited your response. “What do you mean by.. both parties?”
“Well.. you did say you wanted to be cautious more. Which I get, even though you shouldn’t be that cautious in the first place— since it’s not your fault,” Todoroki stares at his feet momentarily, finding his words.
“And both parties because.. I should’ve asked you if you were okay when I saw Mineta get thrown at you,” His expression crumples up, grimacing when he suddenly remembers that exact moment, he should’ve helped them. “I noticed you were choking a little too late.” He mutters.
Like.. how can he stare at you all the time, and just suddenly not notice you choke?
Your feet stop in it’s place, and you shake your head— “You’re so hard on yourself,” you comment, looking up at the ceilings. “Again, it’s not your fault. I was trying to be discrete— y’know!”
“I don’t want you to feel like you should hide anything from me.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes boring into your own.
Blinking, you think over his words— “I’ll keep that in mind.” You’re taken a back by the bluntness in his tone,
“Anyways, thank you, Todoroki. I.. wish I could pay you back somehow.” You pat him on the back, his heart hammering against his chest when you lean in to do so. It’s doing that again.
You turn your back against him, as you start walking even closer to the classroom— and before you can have your hand on the door, he calls out.
“Shouto.”
“..What?” You ask, unsure if you heard him correctly.
“You can start by calling me that,” He offers you one of his one of a kind smiles, something that feels so genuine— full of authentic gratification.
An uncontrollable smile breaks through your face, and you immediately turn away to hide away the flustered expression that is your current state “If you say so.”
Choking in class because someone was thrown at you is definitely not your proudest moment as Y/N Yagi, but.. you’ve definitely gotten something out of it.
Shouto speaks once again. “Oh and.. why wouldn’t I help you? That’s just watching someone die.”
You wince, realizing that Shouto’s correct. Why wouldn’t he help you?
bonus : mineta got flamed by everyone afterwards— including a serious talk from recovery girl, and all might. even though it wasn’t inheritantly his fault that you almost died in class lol
»»————- ♡ ————-«
tldr : Y/N gets folded by mineta bc bakugou threw him at you by accident,
likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!
i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing.
do not plagiarize my work :))
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