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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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REMINDER

a/n: i’ve had this idea on my mind all weekend and finally got around to write it! just a short little oneshot of Bucky finally realizing he should make his move 😌

pairing: Bucky X Reader

warnings: blood, gunshot

word count: 3.7k

masterlist

(gif is not mine)

Bucky hated Tony’s luxurious parties, but as part of the team, he could just never avoid them, someone always came into his room and forced him to join the others, telling him it would be so much fun. It was never. He doesn’t even know what he would find fun anymore, having his life back after all these torturous years, it’s hard to find what brings him happiness, but schmoozing with Tony’s friends and the team and all the agents is just not his cup of tea. He would rather hide in his room, read a book or catch up with whatever show he has been watching lately.

The night he met you was a similar one. Steve was the first one to drop by his room, trying to convince him to get dressed and join the rest of the team for a drink, but Bucky resisted until his friend gave up and left, but then came Natasha. She just always knew how to play the strings to make him do what she wanted. After a bit of persuasion he finally agreed to make an appearance, though he made it clear he wouldn’t be there too long.

After changing into a pair of dark jeans and a black long sleeved shirt that hid his metal arm quite well, he made his way to the party, already feeling grumpy that he had to socialize. It was just like the last time. He got himself a drink, talked a little to Steve, then Banner and Nat and then hid in the corner of the room, avoiding any new faces, not in the mood to introduce himself. He was about to sneak out and go back to his room finally when he first saw you.

You were a relatively new agent in the tower. Having only been there for a few weeks, you didn’t have the chance to meet Bucky since he was on a mission up until a few days ago. You were a bit of a social butterfly, it didn’t take you too long to make friends in the Tower and you found yourself getting the closest to Wanda for some reason.

When Bucky saw you that evening you were talking to her near a high table, nursing a drink in your hands. You wore a white, tight dress that made it no secret how much all the training had helped to form your body through the years. He couldn’t hear your voice, but when he saw your smile, he swore his heart skipped a beat.

Your eyes caught his gaze lingering on you and he quickly turned away, feeling his cheeks growing hot, as if he was a kid caught red-handed of something troublesome. Bucky hoped you didn’t notice it or that he didn’t cross any lines, asking for another drink for himself he was planning to chug the whole thing down and then leave before he could embarrass himself any more. What he was not expecting was you making your way towards him to introduce yourself to the man you’d only heard about, but hadn’t met. He was so busy with making up his plan about how to escape and then thanking his drink to the bartender, that he didn’t even notice you approaching him. So when he turned to the left and was about to walk away he bumped right into you, some of his vodka soda spilling to your dress, making it stick to your skin on your thigh.

“Oh shit, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t looking, I’m so so—“

“It’s alright,” you chuckled, shrugging your shoulders as you grabbed a few napkins from the bar to soak up some of the wetness.

“I totally ruined it, right? I’ll buy you another dress or pay for this one, I’m so sorry,” he kept rambling, feeling like a total idiot.

“It’s just a dress,” you smiled at him warmly. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, it’s… it’s a pretty dress,” Bucky found himself saying and when he saw your eyebrows raising, he almost wanted to take it back.

“I’m afraid we haven’t met before. I’m Agent Y/L/N and you must be Sergeant Barnes,” you smiled at him, holding out a hand for him that he took and delicately shook.

“Just… call me Bucky,” he nodded with a shy smile and that was the start of something new in his life.

He found himself bumping into you all the time, in the controlling room, the gym, the kitchen, you were everywhere. Though it might not had been that coincidental, Bucky found himself learning your routine pretty fast and made his own schedule according to that. He couldn’t help it, you were the sweetest and most beautiful creature he had ever seen and he found himself being drawn to you. And you didn’t mint it, not even a bit. A special bond started to form between the two of you, movie nights, shared missions, runs around the city, you always had something to do together and Bucky was falling for you more and more with every passing day.

Nat and Steve liked to tease him about his growing feelings, but utterly with the intention of forcing him to make a move finally.

“What are you waiting for, Barnes?” Nat questioned him one afternoon when she caught him eyeing you in the controlling room.

“What are you talking about?” he cleared his throat, pretending like he had no idea, but he wasn’t a good actor.

“Just ask her out.”

“No,” he shook his head, folding his arms on his chest.

“Why not? She has the same heart eyes for you that you have for her,” she rolled her eyes nodding in your way. You were sitting behind a desk, oblivious to the conversation that was happening across the room.

“She is just friendly. That’s all we are. Friends.”

“We are friends, Barnes. You and her? That’s more than that,” Nat pointed it out and he looked in your way, chewing on his bottom lip as he watched you type something out on the computer. As if you could feel his gaze on you, you looked up, eyes meeting his and a warm smile tugging on your lips. Bucky could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, just like every time you looked at him with those bright eyes of yours.

He couldn’t bring himself to make an actual move. He was always so afraid you’d reject him and the friendship you shared was one of the most important things in his life. He didn’t want to risk losing it. Besides, he always thought he would have time to figure out what to do. Even if he decided to confess to you, he couldn’t just do it out of the blue, he needed time which he thought he had. It was up until the two of you went on a mission together and it didn’t go according to plan.

You were supposed to stay together during the raid, but you convinced him to split up when you started chasing some bad guys and they parted ways.

“It’s going to be fine, Bucky. You go that way and I’ll meet you by the jet, alright?” you told him before running off the other direction. He wanted to go after you, not let you go alone, but he didn’t listen to his instinct.

Now he is running through the maze of hallways after you asked for help through the com. Natasha is on her way too, but she is way farther from your location than he is.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” he calls out, trying to find the right way. Gunshots are heard outside and Tony makes some stupid joke about Steve, but Bucky ignores it, he just wants to hear your voice.

“Yeah, but I’m out of bullets, hurry—“

A series of gunshots rips through the com and he hears your painful grunt, the sound of your whimper turning his blood cold right away.

“Y/N! Y/N what happened?!” he shouts, speeding down the hallways leading to the place where you’re supposed to be according to your tracker.

“I got—Shit I got shot,” you groan, the end fading out as your voice breaks.

He bursts through the double door and immediately sees the man that most likely shot you, holding up his gun Bucky shoots him in the chest so fast the guy didn’t even have time to aim at him.

“Y/N!” he calls out, frantically looking for you.

“Bucky!” he hears your faint voice coming from behind a desk. He sprints to you, kneeling down next to you and horror shakes through his whole body when he sees the relatively big pool of blood around you as you try to push your hands to the wound on your thigh. “I think… I think it grazed an artery,” you faintly tell him, a few tears rolling down your cheek.

“Fuck, no, no, stay with me, okay? You’re gonna be fine!” he tells you, ripping off the sleeve of his shirt, wrapping it around your leg as tight as possible to try to stop the bleeding. “Y/N was shot, she is losing blood rapidly. We need to get her out now!” he demands through the com while you are slowly losing your consciousness. “Don’t fall asleep, alright? Stay with me! Talk to me!” he begs you as he cradles you into his arms and heads out to the jet.

“I can’t…” you breathe out, your head falling to his shoulder as he carries you in bridal style.

“Of course you can. And you will. You are not dying on me, understood?”

“It’s not like… I have a choice,” you tell him with a faint smile, your eyes slowly closing.

“Y/N, don’t fall asleep! Just hang in there a little longer!”

He makes it out of the building, Natasha and Steve joining him on the way, the jet already waiting for them. You try to keep your eyes open, Bucky keeps asking you questions and doesn’t leaves you until he hears an answer.

“This was not how I imagined my death,” you mumble, lying on the floor of the jet as it takes off, heading back to the Tower where Dr. Cho is already waiting for you.

“It’s not that, Y/N, that’s not happening now. Just stay with me okay?” Bucky begs you, holding your hand in his while Natasha works on your leg, trying her best to keep you from losing any more blood.

“So eager to keep me alive, hmm?” you smile, eyes dropping closed, but Bucky squeezes your hand, making you to look at him.

“Of course. I still owe you a new dress, don’t I?” he tries to joke, but you don’t answer. You lost your fight and let yourself lose consciousness as Bucky keeps calling your name over and over again, but you never answer him.

The next twenty-four hours is a blur to both you and him as well. For him because he refuses to leave your side once you are out of Dr. Cho’s hands, he stays sitting on the uncomfortable chair by your bed no matter what as members of the team drop by every once in a while. And for you because you keep drifting in and out of consciousness, but you’re never strong enough to actually open your eyes, you only hear voices. Mostly Bucky’s.

One time you hear him talking to Steve, their voices sound distant, but you can understand the words clearly.

“I shouldn’t have let her go alone,” Bucky mumbles under his breath.

“It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known this would happen,” Steve tries to convince her, but it sounds like Bucky is too stubborn to listen to his friend.

“We were supposed to stay together. It was my fault.”

You want to protest. You want to tell him it was none of his fault, but you can’t bring yourself to speak and the darkness pulls you in again, cutting you off of the world. Next time your mind wakes up, you hear Natasha’s soothing voice.

“Why don’t you go and sleep a little? I’ll stay with her,” she offers and that’s when you feel a warm hold on your left hand.

“No,” Bucky answers from beside you. “I’m staying, but thanks.”

“Alright, are you hungry then? I can bring you something.”

“I’m fine,” he answers shortly and you can tell just from his voice that he is so broken, beating himself over what happened. But once again, you are not strong enough to speak and you fall back asleep again.

But the third time you wake up you can actually bring yourself to open your eyes. The bright neon lights are a little blinding, so you need to blink a few times before you get used to them. It takes a couple of seconds to take in your surroundings and then your eyes fall on the sitting form next to your bed.

Bucky is reading a book you gave him a few weeks ago, it’s the first Hunger Games, you thought he would like the story a lot and judging from how far he is in it, he really does. He is so lost between the lines that he doesn’t realize that your eyes opened.

“Bucky?” you call out, your throat feels as dry as a desert and his blue eyes immediately snap at you, putting the book aside as he leans forward to grab your hand gently in his again.

“Hey! You’re awake! How are you feeling?” he asks you, brushing a strand of hair out of your forehead.

“Like shit,” you chuckle, making him smile as well, but his eyes still hold a lot of pain from seeing you like this. “I’m thirsty.”

“Here.” He grabs a bottled water from the bedside table and pours some into a paper cup, helping you drink it and you feel like you were reborn.

“Thanks. What… How long have I been out?” you ask, pushing yourself up a bit so you’re leaning against the headboard.

“A little over a day. Dr. Cho said it could take you a few days to wake up after all the blood you lost.”

Now that he has brought it up, you realize that your thigh is wrapped up, a constant, blunt pain gripping your nerves. You push the white covers off of yourself so you can take a look at the slightly bloody bandages hugging your leg. You already know it will leave a nasty scar on you.

“I should have been there,” Bucky speaks up seeing you eyeing your leg. You look at him shaking your head.

“No. You couldn’t have known and I was the one who told you to go the other way. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But I could have just told you no. I should have.”

“Bucky, stop,” you breathe out, gripping his hand tight in your hold. “You brought me out of there, practically saved my life. If anything I should be thanking you.”

“But I shouldn’t have let it happen in the first pla—“

“Shut up, Sergeant,” you chuckle softly. “I’m still here, aren’t I? Isn’t that all that matters?”

Bucky’s face softens as he stares back at you nodding shortly. He can’t even describe how thankful he is to hear your voice again, the silence in the room was like torture for him, watching you lie on the bed completely still and there was nothing he could do to help you. But now he has you back and this whole fiasco made him realize that he doesn’t have all the time in the world with you.

Your recovery is faster than expected thanks to Helen’s amazing work. Two days after you woke up you are dismissed and you are back in your own room. Bucky has been by your side all along and you had to send him back to his room during the night because he wanted to sleep in that uncomfortable chair again. Eventually you convinced him to get some sleep but he was already in the room when you woke up in the morning. Now that you are out of medical care he is still following you like a little puppy, ready to do anything you need help with.

“You know, I just have to use my clutch for a few more days, but I’m totally fine,” you chuckle when he helps you put your stuff away arriving back to your room while you lie down.

“I know, but I want to help,” he smiles, nodding shortly. “And… I have something for you,” he then adds with a boyish smile.

“A surprise?”

“An ‘I’m glad you didn’t die during mission’ surprise,” he smirks, making you chuckle. He shuffles out of the room and then returns with a baby blue paper bag in his hands. Walking over to the bed he sits to the edge handing the gift to you.

“When did you have time to buy it? You never even left my side,” you ask with a suspicious look.

“Nat helped me a little,” he admits with a nervous chuckle. You dig into the bag and your fingers find a soft material, making you gasp before you could even see the item. You just already know what it is. Pulling out you’re staring at a white dress, similar to the one you wore at the party the two of you met officially. The one he spilled his drink on and promised to buy a new one.

“Bucky, you shouldn’t have,” you breathe out, eyes softening at the man who is now eyeing you with a gentle look, clearly feeling shy and nervous about the gift.

“I don’t know if you remember it but when we were in the jet I told you I still owe you one,” he explains as you lay the fabric across your legs, smoothing your hand over the silky fabric as you smile to yourself.

“I do remember that. Actually, that’s the last thing I remember.”

“I wanted to keep my word,” he mumbles under his breath.

Pushing yourself up from the bed you are about to head into the bathroom when he stops you in panic.

“Where are you going?” he asks, clearly wanting you to return to bed.

“I’m gonna try it on, don’t you want to see me in it?” you ask coyly and you see his cheeks blushing at your question before he just nods shortly.

It’s a little challenging to put it on, but you manage to succeed, walking out with your clutches, bare feet and your hair in a messy ponytail, but still, Bucky’s breath gets caught in his chest when he sees you. Suddenly, you feel self-conscious about the way you look, especially with the ugly bandages on your thigh that peek out from under the dress. Stepping to the mirror next to your dresser you take a look at yourself, expression hardening when you see that the scar will probably be seen from under most of your dresses once it’s healed. You try to tug the dress down a little to hide the bandage, but there’s no use, it’s showing no matter what.

Bucky realizes what you’re doing and stepping closer to you he takes your hand that’s fumbling with the fabric and keeps it between his palms.

“All my previous battle wounds are hidden somewhere, but this one will be on full display,” you whisper sadly, eyes dropping to the floor. Bucky cups your cheek in his hand and makes you look up into his eyes with a soft smile on his lips.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I know, I just…” you sigh, not even sure what you wanted to say.

“You know, in a way this…” He starts, brushing his fingers through the bandage gently. “This is going to be a reminder for me.”

“A reminder?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Because I always thought I have all the time in the world with you, but I almost lost you. And I don’t want to waste any more time.”

His hands find your waist, pulling you into his embrace as your palms slide up his arms to the base of his neck. You are both so nervous to be this close without sparring, your heart is beating so fast, he can probably hear it, but he feels the same way.

“If you think of me as just a friend, now might be the best time to tell me,” he whispers with a soft chuckle that makes you smile too. You lean closer, your nose touching his, lips almost brushing against each other.

“You are so much more than that,” you breathe out before he closes the gap between the two of you, kissing you the way he wanted to so many times before.

It’s like the rest of the world stops existing, there’s only you and him, his lips on yours, fingers digging into your waist, flesh and metal ones as well, bunching your dress under his touch as you press up against him, your kisses growing hungrier with each passing moment.

When it’s just about to get a little more heated, someone clears their throat and you are forced to snap back to reality, seeing Steve and Nat standing at the door, watching the two of you grinning widely.

“Just wanted to check on you Y/N to see if you need help with anything, but you clearly have everything you need,” Natasha teases you, making your cheeks heating up as you rest your forehead against Bucky’s shoulder, his arms circling around you tight, hands running up and down your back soothingly.

“Glad to see you finally made your move, Bucky,” Steve nods smirking.

“Alright, alright. The show is over, guys,” Bucky waves them off. Natasha winks at you before leaving the two of you alone.

“We will never hear the end of this,” you growl, your head dropping back, but Bucky just smiles and kisses your forehead sweetly.

“If they keep teasing us we’ll just kick their ass,” he grins making you laugh before you press your lips against his again in a short, chaste kiss.

“Deal.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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keity-devil · 3 years

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Another one, I know. (Destinyshipping fic, spoil 'my not my never' child/teen @breathlessmorro.). But is more a fluff one. I think. Enjoy.

Powers, my love? - Part 1.

Morro and Kai have been in a relationship for a year and a few months already. They were happy with each other. The days together were amazing for them. Kai had met Morro for the first time because of Lloyd's help. They told everyone one day that his cousin was moving to town and he was excited about it. (Especially since they hadn't seen each other in years, Morro not knowing about the Garmadon family's problems until a few days after he came to town.) When he first saw him, he saw an emo and slightly shy boy, but with a tough personality, dreaded if you touched a blond hair of Lloyd's. Kai couldn't believe Morro was really Lloyd's cousin. They were so different from each other. Hair color skin, language, that's what he think until he find out it's actually adopted. They began to meet more often (because Lloyd wanted his best friend and cousin to get along), and the flame ignited. When Lloyd found out about Kai's relationship with Morro, he didn't expect his plan to have such a great result. He had agreed to their relationship, even pleased with it. Kai didn't expect that either, not to mention Morro who was confused at the beginning of their relationship, he thought it was all just a dream, a fiction, he didn't think anyone would love him and yet.. he found someone. They had kept this relationship a secret until they were quite comfortable with the idea of the rest knowing about it.

But they both kept a secret from each other. Elemental Powers. Kai kept his firepower hidden from Morro, and Morro kept his windpower from Kai. They both kept it a secret, and to this day, everything has gone well with this secret concealment of power.

Kai opened his eyes slowly. The light coming from the sun came straight into his eyes. He turned his heavy head to the seat next to it. Morro slept soundly, a few strands of hair hanging down his slightly pale face. Kai turned completely to his lover, staring at him. He could feel the fire in him wanting to come out. It was hard to control himself not to create a heart of fire for his love every time he did something adorable or felt that he did not know how to show/express his love for him. But he couldn't do it. He risked his identity as a Fire Ninja, Red, Flame, he risked endangering both of them.. and he didn't want that.

Morro felt his dream slowly crumble, his eyes hard to open. When he opened them a little, he could already see a smile on someone face.

"Morning..." He said softly, feeling his throat dry.

"Morning mi corazón." Kai approached Morro's face, kissing his forehead softly.

Morro in response, approached him to warm up a little, maybe he will fell asleep. It seemed strange to him how Kai was much warmer at times, but when he asked him about it, he had received the answer that it was only because he is cold.

"Don't fall asleep again. You just woke up." He said with a smile.

Morro couldn't stop an innocent grin. "And what if I fall asleep again?~"

"I'll be forced to throw cold water at you to really wake up."

"Oh no, not at all. I'm sick of it. Do you want me to be sick?"

"N-no..?"

"Exactly. Just another five minutes..."

"Okay. Just five minutes." He had begun to stroke his thick, black hair.

------

Ninjas had to patrol the city every night. Just two. And tonight, Wu put Wind and Flame.

"Your serious now?" Wind said, rolling his eyes.

"This is the truth." Flame said, looking at the starry sky outside before he left.

"Why did Wu put me with you?" He said unfriendly.

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"Maybe it is."

Flame said nothing more, wishing this patrol would end quickly so he could go home. He missed someone and thought of a good excuse for being late. The patrol went fast. Nothing new for the two of them. Wind and Flame were good at fighting, but in conversation and socializing, they needed work.

"Well, end of patrolling for tonight. It's late, I should run home quickly."

Wind looked at him. "Why? Parents, brother, sister?"

"Beloved boyfriend." He said calmly.

"Oh." He lowered his head. He didn't know why, but hearing him say that word, he had done it... "Mhm. Go then. Don't let him wait for you." He said in a tone with a little venom in it, disappearing from Kai's vision like the wind.

"What's with him? No, you know something Kai? It doesn't matter what's with him. I still wonder who's under the mask. Who could Wu trust to have these powers...?"

------

Morro arrived home first. The last conversation with Flame had left him in a bad mood. He wanted to make coffee, but that wouldn't calm him down, so he resorted to his father's method of tea. He went into the bedroom first, no sign of Kai. He could feel the bizarre state in him growing. He left a cold wind behind him, filling the room with a restless cold air.

Kai reached the front door of the apartment. He repeated his apology in his mind.

"Okay Kai. You can do it. Calm down, you know the words." He pressed the doorknob. When he entered, a strong mint smell struck him, with a cold wind as well. "Uh... tea?" He closed the door, rushed inside. At the kitchen table was the brunette, with a cup in his hand, frequently hitting it with his nails painted light blue and black. "Morro? Uh... are you okay?"

"Mhm.. Yes. Why? Problems? " Morro didn't want it to sound so harsh, but he was still on needles.

"Nope. None." He approached him, placing one of his hands on Morro's back. "¿Disgustado?"

"¡No entiendo cuál es SU problema!" Morro started. Not realizing what language he was in. "¡Incluso estaba tratando de tener una conversación normal con Él! Y comienza con eso y- ugh..!" He threw his head on the table, but he had hit the cup of tea with his forehead, overturned the cup, letting the mint liquid run down the tablecloth, which flowed slowly on the edge and on the floor. "Fuck this!!" He screamed, feeling like he was about to throw the cup against the wall. Instead, he picked it up, placing it violently on the table. He rose from his chair, taking a few steps that swirled in a circle walk, his fingers gripped by his disheveled, disheveled black hair.

Kai was just looking at him. Morro had rare moments like this. When he had the first one, it was from an old frustration that happens again. Then he managed to calm him down because he knew the reason, but now he didn't understand him.

"Hey, hey.. it's okay. It doesn't matter that you spilled it and stained the tablecloth. It can be washed. Calm down." Kai try to calm him down with the tea problem.

Morro wanted to scream, but he was holding him in. He didn't know how he could do that, knowing that in moments like this he would throw almost everything out of his soul. The brunette looked at him, his nails still in his scalp. He had taken a few breaths.

"Okay.. Okay.. I'm calm. I'm calm." Morro had taken a few steps to where they kept the water, putting it in a cup and drink it all in one go. "Can we.. forget about it, please? And just sit in bed, fall asleep in each other's arms...?" He said softly, feeling his hands tremble.

Kai smiled slowly. He did not want to insist on the reason for the crisis, because of the emotional state Morro was in now. "Of course. Come here."

Kai reached for the brunette's waist, coming down for a kiss that had greedily returned him.

------

The Ninjas were urgently call by Wu. Morro had not received the call, nor could he.

"Ninja, you've arrived. ... Where's Wind?" Wu knew their identities in each and every Ninja, and Ninja between them, except Wind. They didn't know who Wind was under the mask, nor Wind who they were under the mask. And they agreed with that. One day they will know about each other.

"I don't know, Master Wu." Zane replied calmly.

"Are you feeling well, Kai?" Wu asked, seeing his restless state.

Kai had muted a little, surprised by the question. "No, no. I'm fine, Sensei."

"You don't look good, Master of- "

"I'm worried!" He interrupted his Sensei. "Morro should have called me or sent me a text an hour ago and he didn't..! What if something happened to him??" They had an agreement with the call or the messages. Morro had a telecaster class after school and told him he would let him know when he went out to see him, but nothing.

"Something to happend to Morro? I think you're kidding Kai." Cole said, knowing the personality of Lloyd's cousin, Wu's son.

"I'm not kidding. It's possible. Morro doesn't know how to fight. He's not like us." That had frightened Lloyd. If he knew the truth, he would have been calm.

"I'm sure my son is fine, Kai." Wu reassured him. He was not afraid that Morro was in any danger, he knew his son. If he was in danger, he would have already announced it. "I say to- " The 'Garmadon' alarm sounds in the room.

"Attack in Ninjago by Lord Garmadon. He now seems to be attacking random places." Nya said, looking at the new target of evil.

"That's... that's where I live!" Kai said quickly, recognizing the place. "When I get Garmadon, I'll- "

"Kai... If Morro is there and that's why he didn't contact you?!" Jay suspected agitatedly.

"Oh no... we have to hurry."

------

Morro didn't care if anyone could see him. The world was in danger, and his instincts came first. When he removed the last person from the building, he turned inside, slamming the doors behind him with a strong wind, blocking them.

"Heh, now let's take care of the rats."

He was walking in the white dust with all his senses on alert. He couldn't see well, but he could hear. Suddenly Morro felt a hand grip his shoulder. He quickly reached for the stranger and knocked him to the ground. From the rising smoke, three Garmadon generals had appeared.

'Looks like I'm going to have some fun today.'

He held out his hands wide, after hitting them against each other. The wind that formed next to the three of them pushed them violently together as he clapped his hands against each other. All that was left in the air was his right hand, which had begun to control the wind that was now above the enemies, pressing against them. Sounds of pain were heard. Dust roamed the room uncontrollably. One of them managed to open his eyes despite the strong wind.

"Who are you?! A monster!? Surely a monster!" He spoke agitatedly, closing his eyes again, feeling the pressure even stronger now.

Morro's eyes gleamed in shock at the generals pressed by his wind.

"Monster! You destroyed everything! The houses, the vegetation, EVERYTHING!!"

Words from the past resound in his head. His hand had begun to tremble and his breath was short of breath.

"I'm not a monster." His tone had become harsh, both hands rising, putting them in a cage pressed by the cold wind. He was about to stop their right to breathe- "Monster!" Everything stood still for a few seconds, leaving his trembling hands to fall past his limp body.

The generals were breathing a lot, telling each other to get out of here as soon as possible, that the guy is crazy, a monster. Morro felt his legs begin to tremble, clinging to the wall with his hand.

"Everything is fine.. is fine.. What was in the past is gone..." He looked around disfigured. The white dust fell slowly to the ground. "I'd better go..."

"Morro!" A voice called his name out of nowhere.

"What the..?" Morro was amazed to hear someone call his name from afar, behind him.

"Morro!" Kai stopped running when he saw his lover. He would have arrived sooner if the door had not been locked. He was too agitated to remember what he was wearing at the moment.

"Kai..?" Morro froze in shock, feeling himself tremble much harder. Now it made sense in his head why it was always so hot and warm..

"I thought something happened to you!" He reached in front of him, taking both Morro's pale hands. Kai looked at him intently to see if he had any scratches or injures. He didn't, it was just filled with white dust and shaking body. He looked into his eyes, which were full of shock and... fear? "Morro, mi corazón, are you okay?"

Morro sat for a while, processing the words spoken by the person who had made him nervous the night before. "You're.. Fire Ninja.. Flame.. Kai, are-are you Him?"

This hit Kai directly in the soul. Only then did he realize what was happening. He knew it made no sense to deny it, it was just a waste of time and words.

"Uh.. yes. Yes I am." He remembered the fighting moves and supernatural powers the generals had feared when they left the building. "How do you know how to fight so well?" If they put the card on the table, put them all on.

The brunette, now with white dust on his head, stared blankly. "Wind. I'm Wind, Kai."

"You're kidding.."

"Not at all." He had created a small tornado with both hands. "See?"

"That explains why- Omg... Were you talking about me last night?"

Morro nodded slowly. His heart was pounding inside him. He didn't know if it was from anxiety, fear, emotions, or even all three or more, but he knew it was starting to hurt. Oh, and those damn memories. Morro now expected Kai to yell at him, even leave him. He expected the worst. He was too afraid to think of a good script. But.. Kai had started laughing.

"No.. I don't.. I don't understand.. Why.. why are you laughing?" He was confused.

"Oh! That explains MUCH better your condition last night." He slowly laughed, slowly squeezing his lover's pale hands. "You just didn't think I'd leave you for that, did you?" Morro looked down guilty. "Omg.. come here." He took him in his arms. "I hid that from you too. And you. We're even. It's nothing serious, mi corazón. On the contrary, I'm much calmer now. Calm that you'll be fine.. I had to think that Wind is Wu's son. It was obvious!"

Morro slammed his fist into his chest, looking him in the eye afterwards. "No. It wasn't. I was behaving completely differently."

"Maybe, but not always." He gripped his face in his fingers.

"I say I played theater well at times- " He had been interrupted by someone's lips on his. The kiss hadn't been a long one, but it had been a calm one for the brunette. "You'd better fly, colorful Ninja.~ You don't want the rest to suspect anything. I can feel them approaching the entrance to look for you."

Kai looke behind him, then glanced back at his boyfriend. "After you know what, I'll be back, okay?"

"Mhm.. Just kiss me already."

"Your wish is my command.~" Kai kissed him again, this time it was a longer one.

T r a n s l a t e :

Kai: "Upset?"

Morro: "I just- I don't understand what HIS problem is! I was even trying to have a normal conversation with Him! And he starts with that and- ugh..!"

#ninjago #morro #ninjago morro #destinyshipping ninjago #kai #ninjago kai #kai smith #kai x morro #my written #mini fic #wu #morro wu #lloyd #green cousins #wind #flame #fluff

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 15.5k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex/voyeurism/exhibitionism as usual, an extra lil tidbit of exhibitionism this time around though, thigh riding, choking/erotic asphyxiation/breathplay, degradation, dumbification, objectification - all consensual, but y’all wanted meandom jimin so i delivered, please read at your discretion - dom!jimin obv, sub!reader, oral (m receiving), throat fucking, punishment/discipline, footjob kinda (socks are worn, it’s not bare feet), aftercare as usual, mentions and implications of mxm

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and femboy friday

please note there are hyperlinks in this chapter ! they link to specific images that i thought might help you visualise some things ;) all links are safe

DAY NINETEEN

Your body clearly still isn’t right again by Friday morning, but it’s nothing a good breakfast can’t solve. Fortunately for you, Jin is more than happy to turn it into an occasion for a large, communal meal, and with barely any prompting, he’s whizzing away in the kitchen like a madman.

As you wait, you sip away at some vaguely herby-yet-fruity tea that he’d brewed you, watching his broad shoulders shift beneath his shirt when he chops vegetables, and his brows furrow in focus when he measures out spices.

“I don’t suppose I’d have time to- Nevermind,” Jin mutters at some point, carting a bladeful of crushed garlic from the chopping board to a simmering pan.

You sit up, ignoring the billow of steam from your mug. “Time to what?” He shakes his head, but you keep on him, watching his eyes dart to your figure leaning against the counter, and back at his work. With a gasp, you thrust the mug at him accusingly. “Were you going to put the moves on me?”

He scoffs low in his throat, but doesn’t respond.

“You were! Was making breakfast for me just a ruse, then?”

Jin turns around at that, lifting his brows and giving you a mock look of offense. “It was not! I’m just an opportunist, that’s all.” His shoulders sag. “But I don’t want the meat to burn, and it’s only time before the irresistible aroma of my delicious cooking reaches their doors and draws them down like rats to the pied piper.”

“Are you calling the others rats?” you ask with a giggle bubbling up your throat.

The cook pauses. “I suppose I’m not not calling them rats,” he allows, “but that’s not the point. I’m taking my time with you.” Perhaps the comment would be more sexy or romantic if he wasn’t using a kitchen knife to gesture.

Your interested piqued, you take a slow, thoughtful sip of the quickly-cooling dregs of tea. “You could always tell me,” you offer up, watching his head tilt in curiosity. “Tell me what you would’ve done to me if you weren’t worried about time. Or burning meat.”

His lips part slightly, a strange look in his eyes, like he’s appraising you. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” Though it’s probably meant to come off as a joke, his voice is too soft for it to carry. “If I tell you, I’ll have to change my plans for the prompt. Keep you on your toes?”

“Plans?” you question. “I thought you were an opportunist.”

Even though his back is faced to you, stirring some vegetables amongst the strips of meat, Jin speaks clearly, every word enunciated like it’s a mantra. “I’d kiss you ‘til you couldn’t breathe,” he begins, “and when you were overcome with need, I’d lift you on that counter and get to my knees. Eat you out like you were my last meal. Finally, if you still wanted more, I’d lie you down on the tile and fuck you well like you deserve.”

Your cheeks are hot, searing skin and throbbing pulse. Jin turns around to spoon the cooked stir-fry into a bowl on the countertop, looking far more unaffected than you. His eyes dart to you, a bemused and genuine smile quirking at his lips when he sees you flustered into silence. “It’s your turn,” he remarks in an easy drawl, placing the bowl beside you before he goes to the fridge to retrieve a carton of eggs. “What would you do if you weren’t worried about time?”

You take a breath, nostrils flaring at the rich mix of buttery vegetables and perfectly seasoned meat. “I’ll be honest with you, Jin,” you quip in a small, unobtrusive voice, “I’d probably get you to finish cooking first. This smells fucking incredible.”

Jin’s pealing laugh is punctuated by the cracking of an egg into the still-hot pan, and as the sizzling echoes through the room, you feel the air settle back into something lighter. Good timing, too, as it’s then that you hear footsteps behind you.

Before you can turn, your sides are crushed by a tight back-hug, arms wedged into your sides. “Feeling better?” a smooth voices asks, and you’re surprised to recognise it as Namjoon’s.

The academic had woken before you, so was fully coherent when you’d gotten up with a roiling stomach. With more than a tinge of concern, he’d let you shower first while he’d passed the message on to Jin, the only other awake member of the household. He now smelt fresh, like mint and citrus, and his skin still radiated heat from under his shirt.

He releases you just as quickly as he’d wrapped his arms around you, nothing more than a greeting, and Jin doesn’t even lift a brow at the affectionate display.

Before you can answer however, there’s a fourth party entering the room, a familiar sleepy drawl as Yoongi pads into the kitchen and beelines straight for the coffee machine. “Still sick?”

“Still?” Jin questions, narrowing his eyes in concern as he scrambles the eggs with the corner of a silicon spatula. “How long have you been sick?”

“Just since yesterday,” you deflect, “it’s probably nothing.”

Namjoon goes stiff beside you. “You don’t think it’s...you know? A problem with your birth control?”

Your eyes furrow in confusion before you process his words a moment later. “Oh, I- surely not? I have an implant, so it’s not like forgetting a pill or anything.” But the thought niggles in your mind, and you seek out Yoongi, who slumps against the counter while his drink brews. “It’s not like… morning sickness, is it?”

A disbelieving laugh leaves Yoongi’s lips. You gape at him, but he just waves a hand in dismissal. “Don’t stress about it. You have an IUD, right? They’re 99% effective, and morning sickness generally starts around the six-week period. When did you get the IUD?”

You think back. “Once I cleared all my tests for the show, I guess? I think it was a couple days before we came here. Why?”

Yoongi seems to wake up very quickly after that, face falling slack. “Wait- A couple days? First of all, unless you were having unprotected six roughly two to three weeks before you came here, I highly doubt you have anything more than a slight cold or at the most, food poisoning-” Jin shoots the doctor an accusatory glare, which Yoongi ignores in favour of abandoning his coffee and rounding the corner. “But I think we have a different problem to worry about.”

You blink, your sick stomach returning as his concern starts getting to you. “I wasn’t having sex at all two to three weeks before the show. But what’s the problem?”

Yoongi looks stern, what you imagine he’d look like in his clinic giving serious medical advice to a patient. “Were you on your period when you got the implant?”

Reflexively, your cheeks heat at the personal question, hyper aware of Namjoon, Jin and Yoongi’s collective attention on you. “No. Why?”

“Fuck,” the doctor curses. “Come with me.”

“What’s going on?” You take his outstretched hand, heart racing as he leads you towards the front door, away from the other two who wait in confused and concerned silence. “What’s happening, Yoongi, you’re stressing me out?”

Yoongi’s fingers squeeze yours reassuringly as his face softens, holding the door open for you. “I’ll explain when we get to Sejin’s van, sweetheart, you’re fine.”

Though the sun has well and truly risen, it’s relatively cloudy, and the two of you aren’t even wearing anything more than house slippers and socks as you rush across the gravel towards the production van. There are lights on inside, and Yoongi doesn’t bother knocking before he’s bundling you and him inside.

The van is relatively cramped, some modest floor space with a single bed and then every other surface filled with monitors, paperwork, and a bank of screens displaying the cameras inside the Villa. Sejin, with his bulky headphones around his neck and his chair faced towards you, clearly must have seen you coming, as your sudden entry doesn’t catch him off-guard.

“How can I help yo-”

“Did nobody do their fucking research?” Yoongi spits immediately at him, giving no introduction or pleasantries. “I know there are speakers in the rooms, I know you heard us, so you better start explaining otherwise if you’re not lucky you’ll be facing a massive fucking lawsuit.”

Sejin sighs, his eyes darting to you in sympathy, before they return to Yoongi. “The requirement was that Y/n was on birth control by the time the show began. She was.”

“Yeah, well, not effective birth control,” Yoongi counters.

“The IUD Y/n got is 99% effective. She and all of you signed off that using additional birth control such as condoms beyond that was your choice. If you’ve chosen not to, that’s legally not our responsibility. The condoms have been made available.”

You furrow your brows, finding comfort in his hand tightly cradling yours. “Yoongi, I don’t understand…”

The doctor sighs, pinching his brow, and turns to you. “Y/n, when you got the IUD, did they not warn you about the seven-day window?”

You feel the blood drain from your face, the feeling that bad news is imminent. “What window? No, the lady didn’t say anything.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Yoongi curses, rubbing a palm over his face. “Well, listen up the two of you for a quick lesson in intra-uterine devices. If you aren’t currently on your period, they can take up to seven days to be considered effective. So while it’s highly unlikely that you have morning sickness right now, Y/n, I’m pretty fucking concerned for what may have happened during that first week.”

You bite down harshly on your lip as tears spring to your eyes, you naturally feel yourself wrapping your free arm over your stomach. “How do I- What do I do?”

Yoongi’s face softens at the action, and he turns to Sejin with a sigh. “You need to get an early detection pregnancy test, so that we can know for sure. Plenty of couples have unprotected sex without any pregnancies, so it’s not a definite, but we need to rule it out quickly so that Y/n can decide how she wishes to proceed. How quickly can you get one?”

Sejin, who had been looking greener and greener as Yoongi spoke, finally lets out a rushing breath, jumping up. “I’ll go down to a pharmacy now. Y/n; are you wanting to come with to do it sooner, or...?”

You sniff, shaking your head quickly. “Can you just bring it back here? I don’t want the others to think something’s wrong.”

Sejin nods stiffly, patting you once on the shoulder as he passes you. “I’m so sorry, Y/n, Yoongi’s right. We should’ve done more research. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Yoongi goes lax the second Sejin shuts the van door behind you, pulling you into a tight hug. “Either way, you’ll be just fine. You always have options,” he assures you, cheek pressed to your hair, rubbing your back.

Like your mind is desperate to find something to relieve your sudden crashing wave of stress, a hysterical laugh jumps out of your throat. “A fucking pregnancy scare,” you bemoan, “this is meant to be slutty Bachelorette but it’s just a slutty telenovela.”

Yoongi freezes when you begin laughing, but quickly falls in on the joke. “I even have a secret twin,” he jokes. “We better keep an eye out to make sure Jin doesn’t fake his death to steal the show’s budget.”

You sink further into his secure embrace, chuckling at his remark but quickly sobering up. “What am I gonna do, Yoongi? I can’t have a baby, especially not if it’s some- some mutant mix of seven different dads!”

“Sweetheart, please don’t stress yourself over it before you even know,” Yoongi pleads. “If it’s any consolation, that’s not how biology works at all. That would make for a riveting episode of Jeremy Kyle, though.”

You let out a groan. “God, how would they fit eight armchairs on the stage?”

Yoongi chuckles, smoothing a hand down your back before he gently breaks the hug. “Do you want to stay here, or go back inside and get something to eat? We don’t have to tell the others; Jin and Namjoon are mature enough not to ask pry, especially if there are others around.”

Your growling stomach answers the question for you.

Inside, Jin and Namjoon stay quiet just as Yoongi had anticipated, the former simply announcing that you were just in time for breakfast.

The table was set, most of them already seated, and you gape at the impressive display. The stir-fry from earlier, several individual small bowls of rice, a deep brown broth, scrambled eggs, and even some rice porridge fill the table.

Taehyung, Jungkook and Hoseok are on one half of the table, Jungkook looking like it physically pained him to restrain himself. Jin at one end, an empty space at the other, and the final long edge has Namjoon sitting beside two place for you and Yoongi. Just as you open your mouth to voice the absence, Jimin comes around the corner from the stairs and snags a place on the head of the table beside Taehyung.

You wish him a good morning as you sit, the smells of all the different dishes mingling in your nose the second your butt hits the seat. “Sorry for holding you all up,” you apologise, pasting a smile on your face even as your insides still wriggle in anxious tension. “Thank you for the meal, Jin.”

“Anytime,” he deflects, and like that word was a command, Jungkook bursts into action, shoveling food into his bowl like he’s on the verge of starvation. Jin sighs, reaching for the stirfry. “Quickly, before the vulture gets it all.”

Breakfast, once you force yourself to enjoy it and stay in the moment, is impeccably delicious and a lot of fun. As it turns out, Taehyung’s been making good use of his free schedule, and he regales the table with anecdotes of teaching Mango a number of ‘useful’ tricks like high-fiving, playing dead and turning in tight circles to beg for a treat. It’s while watching a video of the small white dog lolling out her tongue after Taehyung pretend to shoot her with his fingers shaped like a gun that there’s a sudden knock at the door.

Immediately, the thought of the pregnancy test comes to mind, and you’re rushing to the door before anyone else gets the chance.

What you don’t expect to open the door to, however, is a simple delivery worker, with a decently large box under one arm and a small electronic pad in the other. You stare blankly at the man as he consults the label on the box. “Looking for a Jung Hoseok,” he states gruffly, eyes barely reaching you from under a yellow cap branded with the company logo.

Your eyes widen, and you turn back, calling through to the kitchen. “Hobi, it’s for you!”

Rather than returning to your seat, you wait in rapt curiosity as Hoseok practically skips to the front door, smoothly signing off the package with an easy grin. Once he takes it and shuts the door behind the already-departing delivery man, you press against his shoulder to catch a glimpse at the label.

Though Hoseok tugs it away from you with a tut, and you aren’t able to read the packing sticker, you manage to take note of a dark red stamp inked heavily on the top left corner of the box. Two Rs, back-to-back with lush flicks on the outer downward strokes.

The dom parades the box around the foyer, making sure he’s visible to the rest of the guys at the kitchen table, before taking it upstairs with a spring to his step.

Taking a seat again, you let out a disbelieving whoosh of air. “I think it’s from his work,” you tell the others conspiratorially.

Jungkook’s eyes widen, his right cheek stuffed with meat he’s pushed to the side. “Like the Red Room? Kinky stuff?” he questions with a slight lisp, before chewing frantically and swallowing the food. “Are we allowed to do that?”

“It seems so,” Jimin murmurs, his eyes glinting with interest. “Just because we can’t go out doesn’t mean we can’t bring stuff to us, I suppose.”

Jin watches the two youngest with a strangely amused look on his face, twirling his chopsticks against the tabletop. “I’m surprised the two of you have kept quiet so long?”

Jungkook frowns. “Huh? Oh!” Suddenly, his and Taehyung’s faces light up in unison, glancing down at themselves.

Taehyung claps the table in excitement, staring at you, Yoongi and Jimin. “Do you know what day it is today?”

“Friday,” Yoongi answers shortly. “Is it a public holiday or something? It doesn’t really matter if we’re still stuck in here, does it?”

“No, hyung,” Jungkook enthuses, “do none of you go on TikTok? It’s femboy Friday!”

Jimin furrows his brows in utter confusion. “It’s what?”

In their haste to stand up, Taehyung and Jungkook just about tip their chairs over, knocking the table with their knees. Your mouth drops as you see instead of sweatpants or jeans, both boys are sporting skirts.

“Femboy Friday,” Taehyung repeats with a shy smile as Jimin’s eyes rake shamelessly over his figure, “we’re saying fuck toxic masculinity and celebrating feminine boys and proving that clothes don’t have gender all in one! Namjoon, don’t you love it?”

Namjoon, to his credit, manages to nod dumbly, but it seems like that’s his only remaining executive function as his jaw hangs slack, eyes wide.

You can’t blame him, however. You can’t stop looking at the two either. Jungkook has a casual, loose black t-shirt tucked into a high waisted skirt that’s the same shade. Tight around his hips and flaring in an a-line down his thighs, silver chains and buckles give it an edgier look. As he does a twirl, you catch a glimpse of the definition the fabric gives his ass, everyone watching with rapt attention.

Taehyung, on the other hand, has gone for a sweeter look, with a white blouse tucked in to a dove grey plaid skirt that falls in perfectly ironed pleats. It’s relatively cool inside, so he’s shrugged on a cream-coloured jacket somewhat reminiscent of a school blazer. It’s clear by the tentative smile and blushed cheeks that he’s more shy about the getup than Jungkook is; the latter stands tall with folded arms, like he’s daring you to say something.

Once the rest of you at the table get over the initial shock, followed by the silent awe and appreciation, it’s Jimin who speaks up first, his lips parted in a shocked pout. “Why did nobody tell me?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?”

Jimin pushes his chair back, brows furrowed. “Where was this announced? I wasn’t informed.”

Taehyung sends him a boxy grin, his skirt swishing with the slightest movement. “It’s a TikTok thing, Minnie! You should do it with us!”

Jimin tilts his head with a thoughtful hum. “I’m not sure that I have any skirts in my suitcases. Some lingerie, sure, but not-”

“Oh, I just got mine out of the little costume wardrobe in the cupboard,” Taehyung explains easily, jumping forward to tug at Jimin’s arm. “I got a schoolgirl one, but I saw a cheerleader one in there too, come on!”

Your mouth hangs open as the two rush away, and Yoongi splutters, clapping a hand on the table to punctuate his shock. “Wait, sorry, I must’ve- wait,” he babbles, shaking his head in disbelief, “Jimin has lingerie? I’m making tomorrow Panties Saturday.”

Jungkook giggles. “Hyung, that’s not how it works! Femboy Friday is like, a thing, you know? Tae and I made a video earlier and it’s already doing numbers. If we all did it, I bet we’d go viral!”

Yoongi winces. “In my line of work, ‘viral’ is not a good thing.”

You turn to him with a grin. “Come on, Yoongi,” you entice warmly, “it would really cheer me up.”

Keeping your mind off other things is definitely a priority now, and by Yoongi’s reluctant sigh of defeat, you know he knows it. “I don’t want to wear a skirt,” he states, “my legs get cold easily. Is there any compromise of some sort? Anything else I can contribute to the cause?”

It seems you and Jungkook get the idea at the same time, judging by the way his eyes light up.

Before Yoongi can voice his concern, a triumphant clearing of a throat catches the room’s attention. Looking demure in his schoolgirl-esque getup, Taehyung stands tall in the doorway, glancing behind him. “Announcing,” he calls out more noisily than is needed, “the head cheerleader himself, Park Jimin!”

When Taehyung had mentioned cheerleader, and again now, you’d expected the typical red get-up, maybe a sweeter, more innocent look, but at this point in the show it’s about time you realise that Jimin never restricts himself to the obvious route, preferring to defy expectations.

Stepping into the gap Taehyung leaves for him and resting an elbow casually against the doorframe, Jimin looks like the type of student that would run the team with an iron fist. Or, judging by the rings laden on his hands, a silver one. It looks like the only things he’s taken from the cheerleader costume is a pleated pink skirt and some white thigh-high stockings, slipping slightly on the foyer tile. A simple but sexy Gucci shirt is tucked into the obscenely high waistband. Though the logo is gold, red and green, stamped onto the centre of the white fabric, it doesn’t clash with the skirt, instead making an addicting contrast. Shrugged on top, loose around his arms, is a black jacket with red and gold detailing on the shoulders. His gaze is piercing and superior, wearing the skirt like it’s armour as he slinks forward and sits in the chair with a smug look on his face.

Your mouth feels dry. Reminded of the last time he wore more typically feminine attire, it’s like the temperature of the room has increased by several degrees. “I think this is my new favourite day of the year,” you admit quietly, though it carries well enough in the awed room. “You guys look incredible.”

Jimin smirks. “Who’s next, then?”

Jungkook brightens up, wiping the corner of his lip surreptitiously. “Yoongi! Hyung, we need makeup; lots of it.”

Yoongi blanches. “You what now?”

Jin sits forward eagerly. “Wait; if we’re all making ourselves look pretty, I want in. I’ve always wanted to look like the rich hot mom from Parasite,” he divulges openly, turning to you. “Y/n, do you have some jewellery I can use?”

You grin. “I guess so. I know Jimin has some too, and I think Jungkookie? We can get you iced up. Ah, I feel like a little girl dressing up paper dolls. Let’s go get some supplies and we can make a day of it!”

You stand up too quickly, head lurching and stomach protesting, and like the crashing of a freezing wave, you feel dread wash over you. Before you can even dwell on it, Jin’s behind you, steadying you and holding you upright against him.

“Alright?” he asks in a low voice as the others begin to discuss a game plan.

You nod. “Just stood up too quickly.”

Jin’s mouth twists, unconvinced with your answer. “Let’s go upstairs and raid your closet. Take a breather.”

Leaving the others behind, you let the noise drop away as Jin carefully leads you up the stairs and to your room, sitting you carefully on your bed.

You collapse back against the mattress, feeling weak now that the pressure in your head is beginning to recede. Unsurprisingly, Jin doesn’t immediately beeline for the wardrobe or set of drawers. The springs adjust to a shift in weight. Jin’s hands finds one of yours, wrapping it between the two and squeezing it in reassurance. You’re smart enough to recognise this as the start of a Talk, capital letter intended.

“I’m worried about you,” he starts softly, his voice warm and comforting like cotton. “You don’t have to feel obligated to tell me a thing, and I know I’m no medical expert like Yoongichi, but I do know a lot about sex and relationships, and I know that surprises and accidents can happen. I’m here for you in any capacity you need, Y/n. Any at all.”

You swallow, staring at the slightly uneven, off-white paint on the ceiling. “I might be pregnant. It’s a big might but, you know…”

Jin’s hand tightens on yours briefly at that word, like a flexing of muscle, and relaxes again. “The not-knowing is still scary,” he finishes lightly.

“Yeah.” With a frown, you focus your awareness inwards, feeling your stomach rise and fall with your breath. “I don’t feel pregnant. But then- how the fuck would I know what that felt like?”

Jin is silent for a moment. “That isn’t really something I could help with, sadly.”

You huff out a humourless laugh through your nose. “It’s fine, Jin. I appreciate your concern. Sejin’s bringing back a test soon, hopefully, and then I can just… deal with it then.”

“Do you wanna talk about what those results would mean for you? What you feel about the possibility of-”

“Absolutely not,” you cut in sharply, sitting up so quickly that your vision spots. “I’m refusing to dwell on it until I have an answer.” You swallow down the nausea that rises in your throat the more you think about it, turning to face him. “If you wanna help, Jin, and I can’t thank you enough for wanting to- then just distract me.”

Jin pauses, nods, then a grin stretches across his face. “Deal.”

“This is ridiculous,” Hoseok huffs for the hundredth time, nails digging in to the arms of the chair he’s sat at. “It could’ve been anyone else but him. Y/n, why didn’t you help?”

You beam innocently, watching as an equally tight-lipped Jimin settles on a stool in front of the dom, a palette of brown and beige pressed powders and a small brush in hand. “Minnie’s way better than me at it, Hobi. Don’t you wanna look pretty?”

“I chose to pass this in the truth or dare game for a reason.” Hoseok tenses and recoils violently when Jimin’s hand lifts suddenly towards his face. “He’s going to make me look ugly on purpose,” he accuses.

Jimin scoffs, hand falling again. “Are you going to keep talking about me like I’m not here?”

“Ideally, yes.”

The blue-haired man tuts, lazily swirling the soft, short bristles over a particular shade, collecting more pigment. “It would be easier to make you look ugly, but I always relish a good challenge. Don’t worry; you’ll thank me when I’m done.”

“I most certainly will not,” Hoseok pouts stiffly. “Just get on with it, Peaches.”

Jimin’s hand overshoots and streaks a thick tan line on the strip of naked skin between his short skirt and thigh-high stockings. “Fuck. Keep your mouth shut, Jung.”

“You said you’re just doing the base stuff, why does my mouth need to be shut?” Hoseok complains.

Jimin levels him a glare. “Because if you open it, I’ll shove this down your throat and use you as storage.”

“Kinky,” Hoseok banters back, but settles into silence, only flinching slightly when Jimin raises the brush to his face again, dabbing delicately at Hoseok’s dainty nose.

Like some sort of makeshift salon - the second time all eight of you had gathered together to do so - the dining table has been transformed. At the head, Hoseok and Jimin glare at each other with less than a ruler’s length between them. Jungkook and Taehyung have descended on Yoongi like makeup kiosk employees, gushing over his smooth skin and graceful eye shape as the man protests noisily but otherwise seems very content being fussed over.

Jin is wearing enough necklaces, bracelets and earrings that he jingles with the slightest movement, of which there are many as he compulsively makes the eyeliner on his lids longer and thicker and longer again. The brief moments of silence that descend usually consist of him holding up the hand mirror and staring intensely at his reflection, sometimes holding it close enough that his breath fogs it up.

And finally, you and Namjoon are in between the three parties, the academic patiently holding his hands steady as you file away at his nails, shaping them a bit. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” you check in.

Namjoon immediately shakes his head, leaning in closer to watch your motions and the dust shavings that pile up on the folded paper towel beneath your hands. “I’ve always wanted to get my nails done,” he says, voice a casual low timbre.

That surprises you. “Really?” you ask, gently tugging on his hand so he can present his thumb for filing.

“Well,” he amends quickly, “always since yesterday.” At your bewildered laugh, he cracks a sheepish grin and explains. “One of the fans sent in something mentioning it when I visited the confessional booth at lunchtime. It’s sort of been on my mind since then.”

“I’m glad I can help you fulfil this lifelong dream of yours then, Joonie,” you remark with a smile of your own. It’s impossible not to cheer up in Namjoon’s company, your heart always feels lighter in his vicinity. “Are you wanting a colour? I don’t have many, sorry; Jin’s hogging the white and the pink.”

“It’s for a French tip,” Jin calls out imperiously, never one to miss his name mentioned in conversation. You know he’s chosen to help himself so that he can quietly keep an eye on you, and the thought makes you feel more secure and unburdened, appreciative of his attempts to keep your mind occupied. “It’s high class fashion, baby.”

“Maybe in 2010,” Jungkook retorts without glancing away from the blush he’s patting onto Yoongi’s cheeks. “These days it’s all about nail art, hyung.”

Namjoon pipes up. “Like drawing pictures and stuff on the nail? I think some of the girls in my class get those.” He gasps, wriggling in his seat as he turns to you with as much urgency as he can while his hands stay still in your loose grasp. “Do you think you could do that?”

You laugh self-consciously. “I’m not really an expert,” you begin, but Namjoon’s look of veiled disappointment is too much to bear, “but I could give you some nail stickers? They’re just like, love-hearts and stars and leaf patterns and stuff, but-”

With a gasp Namjoon leans forward. “Can I have the leaf ones?” After receiving your confirmation, his knee jiggles under the table in suppressed excitement as you pick up a bottle of nude base coat, the colour of milky tea with a hint of pink to warm it up a bit. You’d used it many a time when you just wanted something plain, and it’ll serve you well today as a blank canvas. Namjoon holds his breath as you uncap it and hold up his pinky finger, carefully coating the smallest fingernail in the glossy polish.

His hands are warm, pliant under your grasp. As he goes quiet to let you focus, the sounds of the rest of the room fill in the vacuum.

“You get that away from my eyes,” Yoongi hisses at one point, making his two stylists tut in reproach.

“It’s just an eyelash curler, hyung,” Taehyung defends, Jungkook providing a resounding ‘yeah!’ in the background. “People use them all the time, it doesn’t hurt.”

“People wax and get tattoos and piercings all the time, Taehyung, and those are still painful. You will not be using that medieval torture device on any part of me.”

Taehyung huffs, and you hear a petulant clank as he drops it back onto the table. “Enjoy your boring straight lashes then, Min Yoongi.”

“I will, actually,” he retorts automatically. “Are you almost done? I feel like I’ve dunked my face in cake flour.”

“Not even close,” Jungkook responds cheerily. “Now it’s time for the fun part though, don’t worry.”

“And what’s the fun part?”

A familiar sticky thwack echoes through the room. “Lip gloss,” he declares with a pleased voice.

Just as Yoongi lets out a pitiful groan, Hoseok gasps from the other end of the table. “Jimin,” he squawks in offense, “why aren’t you giving me lip gloss?”

Jimin just about growls in response. “I said not to move,” he chastises, “now you’ve gone and fucked up the smokey eye, so thanks a lot.”

“I believe you’re the one that fucked up, Jimin,” Hoseok answers haughtily, “a poor worker blames his tools.”

“If you’re calling yourself a tool, I’d be inclined to agree,” Jimin responds, his tone clipped in a way that means he’s focussed. “Okay, that’s looking better. And we’re not doing lip gloss, it looks tacky.”

Finished with the bottom layer on both of Namjoon’s hands, you glance up in just enough time to see Jungkook gasp and turn Yoongi around violently, presenting him like a piece of evidence in court.

Jimin appraises him silently, Yoongi blinking and waiting for his opinion. Taehyung and Jungkook have done a great job, giving him delicate hints of pink shadow just under the outer corners of his eyes, short swoops of eyeliner and baby pink lips coated with a thick sheen of gloss reflecting the light. With an indignant tut, Jimin turns back to Hoseok. “It looks tacky unless you’re Yoongi,” he corrects.

Yoongi seems more content than Hoseok with the answer, and steals Jin’s mirror to inspect himself. He tilts it every which way, mouth slowly opening. “I do look kinda hot, don’t I?”

“See?” Jungkook cheers with a small pump of his fist. “We did good, right? Oh. Jin-hyung, do you need the mirror back? Wait, let us help you! We come highly recommended, Taehyung and I.”

Tuning out the others, you turn back to Namjoon. “Okay, let’s put on some stickers.”

It takes the rest of the morning for everyone to finish up, but none of you seem in a rush. Yoongi, routinely smacking his lips together to feel the texture of the gloss, starts getting different dishes together to make some lunch, and his two little helpers go over to make Jin look like the tiger mom of his dreams. Jimin can’t hide his pride at how well Hoseok’s smokey eye and peachy lip turn out, and Hoseok can’t help but admit that he likes it. Namjoon covers each nail in a thoughtfully selected and arranged sticker, and keeps cooing over them as you cover them in a clear top coat.

Finally, when all of your boys are prettied up and you’re just about to tuck in to lunch, there’s a knock at the door.

You rush up to answer, and this time it is in fact Sejin. He looks harried, chest heaving like he rushed to get here, and before you can even greet him he’s thrusting a brown paper bag towards you.

“Traffic,” he gasps out, “I’m so sorry about the wait, there was a hold-up. I got you it,” he murmurs, before raising his voice so the others - who are no doubt listening in with curiosity - can hear, “so I got you the ginger pills for your stomach, and then just some vitamins that the lady at the counter told me were good for immune systems. Take it easy. Send me a text if you need anything, or if you don’t need anything.”

His voice sounds so awash with concern, his eyes softened in sympathy even as he looks out of breath from getting back here as quickly as possible, that you throw yourself at his chest and wrap your arms around him in a quick hug. He stays frozen for a moment, then pats your back and squeezes your shoulders fondly once you pull away. “Thanks, Sejin,” you say with a smile, “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

When you shut the door lightly behind him and poke your head into the main room, where everyone’s acting like they were’t eavesdropping (Jungkook and Taehyung are thumb-wrestling, Jimin has grabbed Namjoon’s hand to inquire about the little leaf stickers, Hoseok’s turned his face a full one hundred and eighty degrees from you, staring wistfully out the window, and Jin and Yoongi share a look). “I’m just going to duck upstairs and take some of the ginger pills and the vitamins he got me, I won’t be long. You can start without me; don’t let it get cold.”

Though you try and stay calm, when you shut yourself in your bathroom, your hands are trembling. The thin cardboard box tears as you open it, a thick folded wad of instructions and warnings falling out. The longer you take, the more suspicious it is, so you just scan over them to get a general idea. Piss on a stick, you think to yourself, how hard can it be?

So nervous that your muscles lock up, it’s hard enough to actually do even that, but once you’re done, you wash your hands and the handle of the small white stick, and wait. Unable to look, you leave it on the counter and sit on the toilet seat lid, feeling your heart race a million miles a minute. Breathe.

A knock on the door makes you startle violently, a hand instinctively rising up to press against your chest. With a racing heart, you call out to ask who it is.

“It’s us,” Yoongi’s voice echoes through the door. “Me and hyung, I mean. Is it the- the test, sweetheart?”

Opening the door, you let the two men in with a silent nod, returning to your stoop. “Just waiting,” you explain when they glance at the plastic stick on the counter. Your voice has never felt so small and distant to you. It makes you want to curl into yourself and disappear.

Yoongi hovers near the test, checking his watch, but Jin immediately comes over to you, smoothing your hair back and pressing your head and shoulders against his torso. You slump into him, into the embrace that always reassures you. Jin smells still like his cooking, and breathing it in gives you some small comfort.

The three of you don’t speak. There’s nothing to say; not yet, not when you still don’t know. Yoongi stands by the test like a guard dog, not looking himself, and Jin rubs your back and strokes your hair, holding you close.

After what feels like a cold eternity, Yoongi consults with his watch again and clears his throat lightly. “Do you want to come and check, sweetheart?”

You get the thought of you leaving Jin’s hold, of going up there and taking the piece of plastic and seeing two blue lines, and you shake your head, pressing yourself more firmly against Jin. “Can you just… Can you check it and tell me?”

As Yoongi turns to pick it up, you feel yourself tense. Two blue lines, your mind chants over and over, and even as you’re terrified you’re going to somehow conjure that result by thinking too hard about it, you can’t stop.

The plastic rattles against the counter, and you’re watching his face, eyes narrowed on his expression with laser focus. He picks it up, looks at the result, and the slightest exhale gives him away. A tiny puff of breath, his shoulders dropping an inch and the line between his brows smoothing out. Your heart soars in raw relief even before he confirms, “you’re not pregnant, Y/n.”

Even though you’re happy, so grateful of fate working in your favour, the underlying fear of the past few hours comes crashing down on you like a tsunami, and you burst into tears, your whole body shivering and juddering with sobs that you muffle against the soft fabric and solid chest you’re leaning on.

“Hey, hey,” Jin’s voice calls to you in a soothing croon, “you’re okay, baby, you’re fine. You’re safe.”

The reassurance only makes you wail harder, feeling so unburdened, so unanchored, like you could float away were it not for your grip on his sleeves. He rocks you gently, back and forth as his fingers card through your hair and cradle your back. It’s not until you hear the hollow clatter of the test going in the trash can that you feel the ghost of your fear and worry leave you, and finally you go slack against him, tears dried up.

As you sit up and dab at your eyes, Yoongi passes you a tissue to properly clean yourself up and Jin pats your hair back down. “Sorry,” you pipe up with a croaky voice, “I got your shirt messy.”

Jin smiles softly and offers you a hand to stand with. “Never you mind that, young lady.” He’s quite a sight to see now; even with a soft expression, his eyeliner is sharper than the point of a knife and the imperious dark red of his lips makes anything less than a grin look pouty and dramatic. “Do you want us to let the others know you’re feeling under the weather? I can bring some food up here for you? Are you too cold? Too hot?” You giggle tearily as he lays his hand across your forehead and pinches your cheeks lightly, clucking in worry.

“I’m fine,” you reply. “I’ll take ten minutes or so to calm down a bit and then I’ll join you all. Can you just tell them I’m on the phone with a friend or something? I won’t be long.”

Jin furrows his brows. “Are you sure? If you need anything, I’m here for-”

“Hyung,” Yoongi chides gently, “let’s give her a breather.”

By the way Jin sucks in a deep breath and nods stiffly, it might be him that needs the breather. Yoongi drags him away as you thank them, and soon enough you’re once again alone in the bathroom.

Stumbling on weak legs to your bed, you all but collapse onto it, feeling totally devoid of energy. You just need a moment to recharge, that’s all. Just need a moment to acknowledge that no, there isn’t a life form inside you right now, and yes, everything can go back to normal.

And if it’s well over ten minutes by the time you make it back downstairs to reheat your portion of lunch, no one mentions it.

The afternoons are often a lazy affair in the Villa. Unless you’re off getting fucked (not uncommon, of course) you tend to hang around in the lounge with whoever’s in the mood for socialising, and put something on TV.

You’re starting to realise that perhaps there are better uses of your time, which is why when Namjoon asks how Jimin got so good at makeup, you enthusiastically accept Jimin’s generous offer to be his model.

Once again your communal area gets renovated into a mini studio fit for purpose. Two of the couches are pulled closer together, a tight arrow shape around the coffee table corner. As is often the case, Yoongi and Jin are noticeably absent, with Namjoon and Jungkook on one sofa, leaning forward in their eagerness, and Taehyung and Hoseok on the other, the younger looking like he’s just about to fall asleep on Hoseok’s shoulder.

You perch on the edge of the table between them with nervous anticipation as Jimin darts upstairs to collect his tools. “How come you’re wanting to learn, Namjoon?” you ask lightly.

The academic scratches his neck lightly, knee bumping against Jungkook’s as he shifts in place. “It’s interesting, and I love learning new things,” he states, his voice lilting up at the end.

Jungkook nudges his elbow into Namjoon’s side. “He thinks Jimin’s focusing face is hot.”

“I did not say that!” Namjoon insists, but the violent blush in his cheeks betrays him. “I enjoy watching, that’s all.”

“I’m sure you do, hyung, I’m sure you do,” Jungkook commiserates with a wise and somewhat sarcastic nod, but before Namjoon has any further chance to defend himself, you hear the thud of socked feet coming down the stairs.

Jimin’s skirt flounces around his thighs with every step as he rushes back in, a heavy-looking back held against his chest. He pauses in front of you, breathing slightly elevated. “Up you get,” he instructs.

You do so without thinking, but then stand awkwardly beside the coffee table as he takes your spot and dumps the makeup bag beside him. “Where do I sit?” you ask hesitantly, but Jimin just pats his thigh wordlessly.

Glancing out at the four onlookers, you suck in a breath and place yourself delicately on his lap, perpendicular so that your shoulder is against his chest and you’re facing Namjoon. Clearly it wasn’t what he was after, as Jimin clicks his tongue with a huff and grabs you under the knee, parting your legs so that you’re facing him, balanced on a single, stocking-clad thigh.

Your eyes widen as you’re suddenly face-to-face with him as he raises a brow at you. “Namjoon wants to learn, little mouse,” Jimin instructs, “so you’re going to be nice and still for me, right?”

You’re hyper aware of the pressure of his corded thigh against your core, even through your loose cotton shorts, and the four sets of eyes on you that are just outside your peripheral. “Yes, Jimin.”

His eyes darken in disapproval, fingers tightening on your knee. “A good doll doesn’t make any noise either,” he chastises. “Pinch me if you want out, otherwise stay still and be quiet.”

You swallow, recognising his introduction of a non-verbal safeword. But there are others watching, and he was just meant to be doing your makeup. Your eyes dart to risk a glance at the others, blurry in the very corner of your eye. They’ve gone dead still, Jungkook and Namjoon still leaned inwards towards you, Taehyung close to Hoseok but definitely no longer napping. You aren’t allowed to nod or say yes, so you give your lack of response as confirmation.

Jimin lets out a short hum and drops his gaze from you, unzipping the makeup bag. “Lots of steps in makeup have to do with personal preference,” he explains, glass, metal and plastic clattering together as he draws out a bottle. “But starting with primer is like prepping a canvas, so it’s always a solid first step.”

For a moment you’re confused, before you recall that Jimin’s teaching this all to Namjoon. He glances at the academic briefly, giving you a glimpse of his graceful side profile before he turns back and clicks open a narrow tube, piping some of the creamy formula on the back of his hand. When he dips a clean beauty blender into it, collecting it on the narrower end, you notice it glistens just slightly.

“I ran this under the tap upstairs to get it damp,” Jimin continues, and you fight the urge to flinch when you feel it begin to dab along your nose, spreading out to your cheeks. “These blenders are good because the sponginess is a good texture to make everything smooth, but they’re so absorbent that if they’re dry they’ll suck up half the product. If they’re a little damp, you won’t need as much.”

You can’t bring yourself to meet Jimin’s gaze, or even lift your eyes to his face at all, far too intimidated by the proximity. Instead, you watch the rhythmic way his chest rises and falls, rippling the Gucci logo on his white shirt. The afternoon had brought a low, hot sun, and all of you had stripped off any outer layers. Jimin was no different, ditching the jacket, and you can just make out his upper arms flexing past the short sleeves before the blender gets a little too close to your eyes, and you snap them closed.

“Once you’ve done that, I’d go in with a foundation…” Jimin lets out a small sigh through his nose. “This shade won’t really match exactly, but it’ll do. Finding the perfect shade is like finding a pair of shoes that fit just right, it can take ages but once you’ve got it, you’ve got it. Unless you go and get a tan.”

Slowly you begin tuning Jimin’s voice from coherent sentences into one smooth, lulling river. Soft whispers of brushes and cool swipes of liquid make your skin tingle, and the solid, unmoving presence of his thigh between yours anchors you in the moment.

After every step, or whenever there’s a specific technique to show off, you feel the searing heat of his fingers on you, turning your head to the side with a tight grip on your chin, displaying you to the others. Every time, that heat moves downward, pooling in your core.

“Eyes open,” a voice rings out, short with impatience.

Upon following his command, you focus on his face with a few blinks, just in time to see him come at your eyes with a narrow, pointed brush. Instinctively jerking away, you gasp when the movement causes you to grind against him slightly, pleasure blooming at the friction.

With an annoyed curl of his lip, Jimin uses the hand not holding the brush to grab your chin again, fingernails digging in and pulling you closer. “Stay still,” he hisses, and lets go after you freeze into place again.

This time, when he brings the brush back up, it goes not onto your eyes, but above onto your brows, and you remain obediently motionless as you feel the stiff brush press on something powderlike. As he explains its purpose and use to Namjoon, however - the other three watching just as intently - you don’t listen to his words, instead directing all your focus downwards.

If you move, just slightly, the smallest shift of your pelvis, you can press your clothed clit against the strip of bare skin between his skirt hem and the stockings, where the flesh is stiff with tensed muscle. You watch his face as closely as you dare, wary of a reaction, but there’s none.

It’s not much, and it’s not nearly enough, but you sate yourself on that dull pleasure as he finishes your brows, and begins working on some eyeshadow. He takes longer here, dipping into different shades with pretty names that you forget the second you hear them, because it’s riskier now, with your eyes closed again. You can’t see if he’s aware of your minute motions, but you’re too desperate to stop.

When there’s suddenly a sharp poke on your lid, your instinct takes over and you jerk back with a gasped yelp.

Jimin growls, and the noise makes you open your eyes in alarm. He’s holding a jet black eyeliner wand, and his face is tense, displeased. You even open your mouth to apologise, before quickly thinking better of it.

“Sorry for the technical difficulties, gentlemen,” Jimin states to the others stiffly. “Give me a moment to sort out my equipment.”

A rush of heat floods your core at the dismissive way he refers to you, and when you feel his hand tighten - not on your jaw, but on your throat itself - you melt into his grasp. The cold bands of his rings dig into the flesh as he inflicts just enough pressure to make your heart race.

Still able to breathe comfortably, just with that physical reminder of his strength and his control, you go pliant in his hold, eyes fluttering before they naturally settle shut.

“There we go,” Jimin murmurs, “now let me continue.”

Jimin uses your cheekbones to prop his hand up as he paints a delicate stroke of black across the bottom of each eyelid, his voice like honey as he walks Namjoon through every last detail.

The weak rutting had barely given you any relief before, but now with Jimin’s hand on your throat, it’s not even enough to keep you sane. Your brain knows there are four other people trying to watch the processes of applying makeup, but that logical part is being steadily overridden with primal need, a need that’s going unfulfilled.

Jimin has to remove his hand to show you off, then to turn your head back and reach for something else, the sticky sound of it opening, and the wet bristles that you can only just feel against the edge of your eyelids tells you it’s mascara.

“Look up,” Jimin commands shortly, tapping your temple. You follow command and glance up, curling your fingers into your own thighs to stop yourself from flinching when the wand comes so close to your eyes.

When he shows off his work this time, your eyes are finally open again, and so you find yourself facing the others properly. Namjoon’s doing a decent job of pretending he’s actually interested in the makeup, but his eyes spend too much time on the space between your legs, and Jimin’s face to be really focused. Jungkook’s got his feet up on the couch, with an arm shoved in front of his crotch, rocking against it to relieve some pressure.

On the slightly less affected couch, Hoseok sits back with his gaze hooded as he stares you down. Taehyung, shoulder-to-shoulder with the dom, has a swollen bottom lip pinned tightly under his front teeth. You don’t doubt he wishes nothing more than to be between you and Jimin right now.

Jimin pulls you back too soon, and as he retrieves the familiar short, round casing of a tube of lipstick, you can’t hold back any longer. No longer worried about accidentally being stabbed in the eye, you keep your face still but tighten your thighs around his, grinding your core against him.

You know you aren’t being subtle, but you’re beyond caring, just needing something to relieve the desire boiling over inside you.

As he uncaps the lipstick - a deep wine red that looks ridiculously expensive - he sends you a warning glare. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he chastises in a low tone.

You choose to ignore him, propping your hands on the top of his thigh, over the soft pleats of his skirt, to get better leverage, moaning between closed lips at the feeling.

“That’s disappointing,” Jimin admits, and as your heart begins to sink at his tone, his free hand lifts up once more to wrap around your neck.

This time, instead of his grip being an implication of consequence, he starts to tighten and tighten and tighten, slowly and steadily. You feel the pressure on the sides of your throat, where his fingers are, not on your voicebox, and it makes you start to feel a little hazy. He keeps going as you feel the first brush of lipstick against your parted lower lip, and there’s a heat in your face, a slight tightness. His fingers curl in more, just slight changes every time, but your brows furrow at the slight pain, and without you even reaching out to pinch him, he’s eased back to that sugar-sweet lightheadedness.

It’s easier to let your eyes flutter - not open but not quite closed either - as your lips are coated in red, hand moving with just as much case as his other. Although you can breathe, it’s thin, and you feel yourself go lax at the slight deprivation, like you’re floating above yourself. Once the cap of the lipstick clicks, his grips falls away, and you instinctively suck in a breath, your exhale sounding closer to a pleasured sigh.

You begin to sink forward, seeking out more contact as the endorphins of an oxygen rush lift you higher. Jimin hums, the lipstick clattering noisily on the coffee table as he grasps your shoulders and turns you slightly, so that you don’t faceplant into his chest. A strong hand keeps your chin up, air flowing so easily that you feel drunk on it, strength returning to your limbs.

“Isn’t my doll so pretty, Namjoon?” Jimin asks sweetly, before he ducks in and nips sharply at your earlobe, voice lowering to whisper harshly in your ear. “I only gave you two very easy, very simple commands. Be quiet and be still. And yet that’s seemingly too much to ask of you. I have no qualms about punishing you in front of everyone, little mouse. You’ve used up all your chances. If you make a single noise or move out of turn, I’ll discipline you right here without mercy.” His fingers are featherlight, tender as they turn you back to face him, pressing your foreheads together. His eyes dance in mirth, a smile playing on his lips. “Is that understood?”

You only just manage to prevent yourself from answering or nodding automatically.

Jimin laughs through his nose at the way your lips twitch, leaning back just a few inches. “That was mean of me, wasn’t it?” His smile falls in a second. “Then again, I think I’ve been going too easy on you lately. And I don’t make mistakes a second time.”

Blessedly, all he has left are delicate dustings of blush and highlighter, and some setting spray. He moves your face this way and that, tells you when to open your eyes and when to close them, and although it feels like your insides are vibrating hopelessly, you manage to keep still and silent, a perfect doll for him.

“All done.” When Jimin says those two magic words, and gives you permission to move again, you feel relief crash down on you, making your knees weak as you get up off him and collapse onto the couch in the gap between Jungkook and Namjoon.

Your relief is short-lived. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

You blink up at Jimin. “Um… You said we’re done.”

“The makeup is,” Jimin corrects, looking unbelievably intimidating even in a white t-shirt and pink cheerleading skirt. “We are not. You still deliberately disobeyed be, little mouse. You’re in trouble.”

On either side of you, Jungkook and Namjoon retreat, ducking out of Jimin’s line of sight so they can look on from the sidelines. You frown at him. “But I didn’t do it again, and you said you wouldn’t do it if I-”

“Goodness, were you so desperate that you stopped listening entirely? I said I wouldn’t discipline you in front of the others, Y/n. You haven’t earned absolution. You just get the dignity of privacy when I punish you. Go up to my room; now.”

There’s no protesting his command. There’s a safeword, or there’s obedience, and the choice is easy. You feel positively electric with arousal, excited at the concept of Jimin no longer going easy on you, and what that might entail.

You jump up, spare one glance at the four men that remain, open-mouthed on the couch, and make your way towards the stairs, Jungkook’s whines about ‘missing out’ fading away with distance.

Jimin’s room is relatively tidy, but it’s not the neatly made bed or overflowing tabletop of neatly arranged jewellery, watches and belts that catch your attention. At the foot of his bed, a heavy wooden armoire with his initials engraved is unable to ignore, a constant reminder of just how fucked you were. You didn’t know half the things he had in there, had only really experienced a few of them yourself, but something tells you that digging around inside it while you wait will just get you in more trouble; although you aren’t opposed to acting up for some extra attention, you’re in new territory with Jimin right now, and you want to get a feel for what you’re in for before you make things worse for yourself.

You’re proven right very quickly, when the door creaks behind you. “At least you know how to wait patiently,” Jimin’s voice calls in a sultry whisper. Turning around to face him, you can’t help but gulp at the glimmer in his eyes and the smirk that tugs at the corners of his mouth. “That lipstick shade looks so beautiful on you, little mouse. Mind if I try it on?”

With two smooth steps, he’s upon you, a hand winding around the nape of your neck and the other keeping your chin steady as he presses his lips to yours, forceful enough that your teeth begin to dig in to the delicate flesh. You exhale roughly through your nose, a whimper stuck in your throat at the sudden contact. As plush as his lips are, he kisses you with a ferocity and coldness that has your mind reeling.

When he pulls away, your eyes flutter weakly open, and that whimper makes its way to the surface. He looks like sin personified, that deep blue hair low across his brow, exposing a narrow triangle of his forehead, a smokey eye and those lips of his, stained with red. Of course it’s not a neat application - you imagine yours must be even more ruined - but the messy smears of colour across the middle of his mouth just serve to make him look wilder, a creature of lust and raw desire. “Jimin,” you say, voice hushed like a prayer.

His eyes narrow minutely. “Did I say you could speak? On your knees, shorts and shirt off.”

You follow without hesitation, just about scratching yourself in the haste to remove your outer layer of clothing. Though your ribs practically vibrate with how fast your heart races, your skin still prickes into goosebumps now that all you wear are your panties and a bra. The fibres of the carpet, though soft, scratch against the bare skin of your knees and shins as need makes your nerves extra sensitive. You look up at him and shiver at the sight this position awards you.

You haven’t specifically drooled over his thighs before, but now that they’re bared to you, directly in your line of sight, you feel yourself grow wetter. You knew he still had the corded strength of a dancer, too, and the thought of him using that power to fuck you into the floor makes you seek out some friction, crotch pressed to your heels and rocking against them. From this angle, you can’t see up his skirt, but the fabric is thin enough to expose the bulge of his cock beneath it. Looking up further, craning your neck to see his face, you appreciate how even from below, he has a jaw that could cut diamonds - especially when he’s clenching it, like now.

Your eyes widen, taking in the tensed look of disapproval he’s giving you. With a start, you realise your hips are still rocking back and forth absentmindedly, and you freeze with an apologetic whine.

His hand comes down to stroke back your hair, deceptively lightly compared to iron lines of his face. “Oh, doll, you really can’t follow any basic commands, can you? So needy for cock that you can’t even think?” He lets out a teasing laugh, the sound like windchimes. Slowly, he trails a single finger down the side of your face, then diverts inwards along your cheekbone and pushes down against the seam of your lips, making you naturally part them. “Such a mess already,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Shall we see how much more that lipstick of yours will hold up? See how long it takes you to become just a mindless little doll for me to play with, hm? Maybe you’d behave then.”

Your eyes plead with him as he toys with your lips lazily, running that finger inside, collecting your saliva to smear it over, your cheeks a hazy red at the humiliation. It only serves to make you needier, though, as you wait for him to do something, to use you like you know he will, and judging by the grin on his face as he messes you up, you know he’s well aware of his effect on you. But good dolls don’t talk, and they don’t move on your own, and so Jimin makes you sit and wait, letting him take his time.

When he finally pulls his finger away and wipes the drool - tinged pink with the dislodged lipstick pigment - on your cheek, you could groan in relief, but he still seems in no hurry, lazily toying with the hem of his skirt as he tilts his head to the side like he’s appraising you. “Look at you, trying so hard to follow the rules,” he coos, “did you not like me calling you cockdumb, little mouse?”

You bite down on the inside of your lip to mask another whine, blinking up at him as it takes all of your effort not to grind against your heels. You can’t answer, but it seems your response was explanation enough.

“Oh, so that’s it…” Jimin grins, eyes alight with the condescending mirth that makes you feel so deliciously small beneath him. “You like it a little too much, huh? I should’ve known. I’ve been spoiling you; Tae too. In fact, I bet every guy in this house has spoilt you rotten, and now the only thing on your mind is when you’ll next get some cock..” You swallow at the way he slowly begins lifting his skirt, knuckles grazing on the skin of his thighs as more pale golden flesh is revealed. His voice is sultry, addictive. “Rest that pretty little mind of yours, little mouse, you don’t have to think about a thing. Just open your mouth and be a good doll for me, and I’ll give you what you need.”

You widen your jaw and let your tongue rest on your lower lip before he’s even bared himself to you, and he chuckles as he holds the skirt to his lower abdomen, showing off the cotton-candy pink underwear he’s donning. The satin-like fabric is so narrow across his hips and between his legs that it’s clearly not meant to contain his cock, but he doesn’t seem bothered about the precarious way the weeping tip pokes out of the skinny waistband. There’s not much time to dwell on it, or even admire it, however, because he quickly reaches in with his free hand and pushes them down, letting his cock bob free.

Your eyes grow lidded with desire as he holds himself at the base with three fingers and taps the head against your awaiting tongue teasingly, drool quickly pooling there.

Jimin grins at your needy reaction. “I’d love to tie your hands back and fuck your mouth, but I want them to be free if you need to use them,” he states lowly, before shrugging, “maybe next time. For now; open up.”

You stretch your mouth even wider, wanting to obey his every command, and feel his cock begin to fill it, the salty tang of his precum sliding over your tongue. Focusing on breathing through your nose, you fight the urge to gag. Though he takes his time, and certainly isn’t as large as some of the other members of the house, he hasn’t have any qualms about burying himself to the hilt, making your eyes tear up.

“Fuck, just like that,” Jimin curses, and your heart sings with the praise even as you struggle not to choke around the intrusion in your throat. Unsure if he wants you to properly suck him off, but knowing the last thing you should do is move without permission, you just keep your jaw as wide as possible, lips pulled back slightly to cover your teeth. As he draws back with a pleasured sigh before beginning his slow drive back in, you think Jimin’s more than happy with what he’s getting.

He takes his time, but throat isn’t exactly something that adjusts like your pussy would, and so it doesn’t get any easier to stop your gag reflex from kicking in when you feel him past the base of your tongue. You can breathe through your nose, but there are so many things to keep track of that you don’t get quite enough air to your lungs, trying to make every inhale you do manage as deep as you can.

His groans and breathy praises are enough to keep your nerves on a livewire, so turned on you could cry - and, in fact, your eyes tear up as he gently but thoroughly fucks your throat, so that when you glance up at him, he’s blurry in your affected vision. That doesn’t stop you from knowing that he’s grinning, because you can hear it in the way he assures you that you’re being “so perfect, little mouse; just drunk on cock, aren’t you?”

You groan around him in your mouth, and feel a spot of wetness on your sternum, that you don’t doubt is your drool beginning to spill over. Even as your cheeks flush with humiliation, he doesn’t tell you to suck him off, or do anything but leave your mouth wide open, and so you stare up at him with tears in your eyes and remain obediently still.

It could be a minute, it could be ten, but at one point, when your nose is pressed to the waistband of Jimin’s skirt and his hand is gently cupping the back of your head to hold you there, you become aware of a foreign presence between your legs.

It takes you a moment to recognise it, that probing pressure that quickly seeks out your clothed core, but you blink away the sheen from your eyes and and close your thighs just enough to feel the outline, and it’s the textured fabric against your skin and the teasing way he wets his lips that helps you make the connection. The object moves again, a stiff drag right over your clit, and the sudden burst of pleasure makes you choke around him, spit running down your chest now. He’s rubbing his foot against you, the foot that’s covered in pretty white thigh-high stockings.

Jimin pulls out to give you a moment to cough and splutter, and thankfully doesn’t call you out on the involuntary breaking of the rules, but you barely manage to suck in two breaths before he’s clicking his tongue at you, telling you your brief respite is over. You clear your aching throat one last time and spread your mouth wide open again, but Jimin just hums and pats your cheek. “Could my doll handle one more command? You’re doing so good, taking me well like I knew you would.”

You nod straight away before freezing at your unintentional mistake. The blue-haired man just lets out a dark chuckle, pulling his foot away. This time, you at least manage to prevent a whine, biting hard on the inside of your cheek at the loss.

“That was mean of me, wasn’t it? I understand, little mouse,” he coos, crouching in front of you so that you’re at eye-level, “I do. It must be hard for you to remember all these pesky rules and orders, isn’t that right?”

His gentle croon of sympathy cracks you once again, your need to please overriding your better judgement, and you nod again.

This time, he openly laughs, making you shiver as he runs a line through the spit that’s fallen between your breasts. “Let me give you a deal, then,” he begins, voice dripping with apparent sympathy, “I’ll take away those rules. I’ll let you move, and moan, and say my name, but only if you promise that it’s because you’re too cockdumb to follow them, hm? Can you say that for me?”

You swallow, opening your mouth to take a heaving breath. What’s worse; not being able to move, or having to admit that you’re so desperate that you can’t stay still? “I’m just c-cockdumb, Jiminnie, can’t think about anything else but feeling you inside me,” you confess, and as he strokes back your hair and smiles at you like a prized pet or small child, something beloved but not all that smart, it’s strangely freeing.

Your sex drive had skyrocketed since coming on this show, and even with having sex almost once a day, sometimes more, you found yourself missing the feeling of each guy in the house while they awaited their turn. It had been what felt like ages since the last time you actually, properly fucked him, even though it couldn’t have been a week, and you longed for it. Admitting that you were too desperate to even follow basic commands, letting yourself be reduced to a creature of need, with no coherent thoughts alleviated any shame you had about that thought. Jimin was here in front of you, skirt barely covering his spit-slicked cock, lips still a sinful wine red, and he loved your need, your desperation.

Jimin stands back up again, and makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat. “That’s my good girl,” he praises, and any scant notion of tainted dignity that remained within you flies out the window. “I shouldn’t punish you, should I? When you couldn’t help it.”

“No, Minnie,” you agree with a whine, clenching your thighs together in a poor imitation of the stimulation you briefly had, “‘couldn’t help it. You don’t have to punish me.”

“And what would you want instead, little mouse?”

You widen your eyes in plea. “Fuck me, Minnie, I’m your good girl.”

He tilts his head to the side, and it’s the bemused smile that graces his lips that makes you realise he’s not going to give you what you want. “What a shame, then,” he murmurs, his fingers delving into your hair and tightening around a fistful of it, “that I have to punish you anyway. How else will you learn?”

You gasp as he steps backwards, pulling you with him by the grip in your hair. You’re forced to stumble forward on your knees and the tips of your fingers as he sits down on the edge of his mattress and settles you in front of him. “Minnie,” you whine, your own hands reading out to clutch at the fabric of the duvet in front of you.

“Y/n,” he teases in a singsong voice, “remember that new command that I wanted from my doll?” He spreads his legs open further, and the pink miniskirt rides up to expose his cock, smeared with a deep red from your ruined lipstick, dripping with saliva and precum. The hand in your hair tugs you closer. “It’s suck.”

Jimin isn’t gentle with you this time. Now that you have the advantage of responsiveness, sucking him down and swirling your tongue, he doesn’t bother sugar-coating it, and obscene noises emerge from your mouth as you swallow, gag and choke around him. He curses, using the handful of hair like a handle, guiding you up and down.

It’s barely any time at all before you feel a familiar sensation against your soaked panties. Jimin’s stockinged foot grinds against you with so much pressure you almost want to wriggle away from it. Your nerves are so touch-starved and your clit is so swollen that the slightest touch would’ve made you shiver, but the intense way he rubs the ball of his foot over your panties has you gargling hopelessly around him, mouth going slack.

He chuckles. “Too much? I can stop if you need, little mouse, I can’t have you getting distracted from your main use.”

Your hands detach from the duvet and wrap around his calf, fingers digging in and holding him there. Rutting your hips against it, you seek out the pleasure yourself but make sure to throw your efforts twice into blowing him, making him curse when you bob on his cock faster than your hips move.

“God, you’re fuckin’ filthy,” Jimin breathes out through a groan, “humping my leg like a fucking dog. Thought Tae was the pup, not you.” You’re unprepared for the hand that shifts and slips under your jaw, tightening around your throat so that you can feel his cock even more inside you. You gag, but swallow through it, the slight restriction of air bringing back that delicious heady feeling from earlier. Jimin catches your moan, even though it’s muffled around him. “Maybe I should get you a collar, little mouse. Make sure to buckle it tight.”

The thought makes your grinding falter, and you don’t doubt he feels the sudden rush of heat between your legs, because he suddenly kicks into action himself, grinding harshly against you as you cry out gutturally around his cock.

His grip on your neck loosens only to take a hold on the back of your head again, fucking your throat to chase his orgasm. The faster he snaps his hips, cursing lowly and groaning praises, the faster he jerks his foot against you, and it’s not long before the heat is gathering in a tight coil low in your belly.

You moan around him, jaw aching and lips stretched, and suddenly Jimin twitches inside you, spilling down your throat. Quickly, he pulls his cock out, and you only get the briefest taste on your tongue before he’s rubbing his tip across your swollen lips, spreading his cum across them.

His leg slows down as he releases, but you were so close to the edge yourself, and so you feel no shame in seeking it out, grinding yourself against him as you stick your tongue out to lick your lips clean.

Jimin groans, chest heaving, but lets you rut yourself against him, cum dripping down your chin, until finally you give a violent shiver as your orgasm runs through you. It’s mellow but toe-curling, and you clutch his leg to anchor yourself through it.

“Fuck,” you gasp out, head lolling forward onto his thigh, where the stocking turns to flesh, then the soft ironed pleats of his skirt.

Jimin’s hands are in your hair, stroking it away from your messy face and brushing out the tangles. “Oh, Y/n,” he chants softly, his voice a far cry from the dom that teased you before, “I love to play with you. How are you feeling?”

You feel drained, your entire body weight collapsed against him and the bed. “Mm.”

Jimin stifles a chuckle. “Could I have a colour, my little mouse?”

“Green,” you manage, “I’m green. But are we done now? If I don’t get some lip balm on now, my lips might just fall off.”

“Indeed we are,” he confirms, and bends down to slip his arms under yours, picking you up off the floor with ease. “As much as I love you being drunk off desire, I miss my clever, sweet, cheeky girl.”

Even with your body screaming in exhaustion, barely able to help him get you laid down on his bed and tucked under the duvet, your cheeks heat in a blush. “Don’t compliment me when I’m vulnerable, that’s cheating.”

“I’ll save them for later, then,” Jimin bargains with a tired smile, before he gets up and cringes, looking down. “As much as I’d love to collapse into bed for a nap with you right now, my sock is drenched thanks to you.”

Your eyes fly wide, and you manage to pull yourself up enough to glance over the side. Jimin isn’t kidding. All over the toes and top of his foot are dark patches in the stocking, clinging to his skin. “I’m so sorry,” you say with a wince.

“Don’t be,” Jimin assures, stripping it off with two fingers hooked into the fabric, “it was hot at the time. It just, uh, feels weird when it’s gone cold.”

Half the blood in your body has probably rushed to your face as you cover it with an embarrassed whine, burying yourself deeper in the sheets. “Maybe if you fucked me, I wouldn’t have gotten your sock wet,” you mutter petulantly, shamelessly deflecting.

“I’ll know better next time,” he quips, a grin evident in his voice. By the time you poke your head back up, he’s stripped down to just his white Gucci shirt, his bottom half totally bare as he retrieves a pair of boxers from the set of drawers. Stepping into them with no qualms about the temporary nudity - though, you suppose it would be stranger for him to be camera shy - he glances back over his shoulder. “And as much as I love to fuck you, we have just enough time for a cuddle before dinner. I miss you.”

Your heart warms, eyes soft. “Jimin,” you croon softly, “come here.”

He smiles, but hesitates. “Could I- I’m just- Should I text Tae?” he asks, lips twisting in uncertainty, still tinted a faded red. “I’m pretty sure nobody’s getting suspicious, and it’s not like we’re technically-”

“Text him,” you instruct with a beam. “I miss having you both close. We live in the same house; it sucks having to stay so separate.”

With how quickly Taehyung bundles into Jimin’s room after he sends the text, he must not have been far. He’s on you in a second, jumping onto the bed with enough vigor that the springs creak, and wriggling under the duvet beside you.

You seek him out with as much earnestness, if not enthusiasm, and hum happily when he lies back to let you rest your head on his chest. The bed creaks again, and Jimin’s body heat warms your back, his arm slung over your waist.

“It’s about time,” you hear Taehyung’s voice say, echoing through his chest, “I’ve been cuddling with one of Jin’s plushies these past few nights. It’s a sorry substitute for a whole human to snuggle.” He pauses to lift his chin, glaring imperiously at the blinking camera in the top corner of the room. “I missed having platonic cuddles with my friend Y/n. Cuddling is a favourite non-sexual pastime of mine.”

You giggle, curling into him and inhaling his comforting scent, like brown sugar or caramel. “I think you’re good, Tae.”

“Can we sleep now?” Jimin whines as he holds you tighter, face buried in the crook of your neck as he huffs. “I just had the soul sucked out of me.”

“I know, I know,” Taehyung grumbles, and if the comment strikes you as odd, it only takes the steady heartbeat and low hum of his breathing to blur the thought from your mind as you let yourself drift off.

Yoongi glances worriedly over his shoulder, ear straining to hear past the glass sliding door.

“They’re occupied,” Jin reminds, “besides, I doubt they can hear us all the way out here. Did we really have to come out to the patio just for a talk? It’s hot out here.”

The doctor shrugs, placing the package of fresh sliced beef onto the tabletop. “We’re having a barbecue tonight. At least this way we can pretend we were just getting set up.”

Jin narrows his brows, eyes softening in concern. Quickly, Yoongi drops his gaze, knowing it’ll just make him weak. “Yoongichi, talk to me. What’s up? What’s got you so nervous?”

Yoongi swallows. Thinks of what he rehearsed, of what he’d written in the notes app of his phone, read over and over that morning. This has been fun, but we’re kidding ourselves. Or maybe he’d skip the pretense and avoid beating around the bush. I can’t keep having sex with you while my feelings are on the line. “Um… A lot happened today. With Y/n.” Maybe he can beat around the bush a little bit, just to work up his courage.

“That it did,” Jin responds slowly, leaning against the outdoor dining table. Yoongi takes one of the wooden chairs, nails digging into the arms as he feels tension stiffen his body. “Though it seems like the others are doing a fine enough job of keeping her mind off it.”

Yoongi doesn’t miss the bitter tone in Jin’s voice. “Are you jealous? Of them, I mean.”

“Of course not,” the therapist answers immediately, “I have no right to be. She’s a free woman, and this is just a show.”

He frowns, heart sinking. “You said you wouldn’t lie to me about her, hyung. We started this so that you had an outlet. Physical or otherwise.”

Jin pauses for a moment. “I don’t think she would’ve told me,” he says finally, “if I wasn’t already there when part of it happened. If you hadn’t have asked me to look after her. She hasn’t told the others. Not even Namjoon, I don’t think.”

“And that bothers you?”

“It shouldn’t bother me,” Jin deflects.

Yoongi doesn’t miss a heartbeat. “That’s not an answer.”

Jin lets out a hollow laugh. “Since when you get so smart?”

Upon hearing those words, Yoongi feels a sudden shard of glass cut deep inside him, enough to make him wince. “I was always smart,” he replies stiffly. “I wasn’t dumb before I started fucking you, Jin. I didn’t get emotional intelligence through osmosis.”

At least Jin has the good grace to look pained. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to say you weren’t, I phrased that poorly. I just meant…” He trails off, seeking out the right words. “I suppose I’m realising how much you’ve learnt about me in the time we’ve been spending together lately. I feel like I don’t know much about you.”

Maybe because you don’t care about me like I care about you, Yoongi wants to say. Maybe because you only think about Y/n these days. “You could always ask,” he says instead, and curses himself for the pathetic way his voice wavers in the air.

Jin’s brows furrow deeper, and his hand begins to rub against his thigh. Self-soothing, Yoongi knows. Jin always started stroking at his own thigh when he was stressed. “It’s probably good that you asked to have this talk. I’m not sure this is best for both of us. I appreciate how you’ve stuck by me, and the support you’ve given me-” Yoongi wonders why he doesn’t just call it like it is, fucking, “-but it really seems like it’s doing more harm than good for you. Maybe we should put an end to this, Yoongichi.”

Yoongi sucks in a breath. He came out here to say that. He came out here to end it. But hearing it from Jin’s lips, it sounds abhorrent to think of. “Don’t,” Yoongi blurts without thinking, nails digging into the wood, “don’t take it all away from me just based on that. I know what I have with you, Jin, and I know that right now it isn’t ideal, but it’s better than nothing!”

Jin’s brows knit together as he shakes his head. “I don’t think this is healthy. It was irresponsible of me to lean on you in the first place, but I swear you aren’t just a substitute for Y/n. I care about you, Yoongi, it’s why I came to you.”

“You came to me because you knew I’d say yes,” Yoongi corrects, a sad smile on his face. “Because you knew how I feel. It’s just my shitty luck that you don’t feel the same. I mean, I’m crazy about you, you’re crazy about Y/n, fuck, I’m even starting to- starting to think about her and me like that too, and…” He takes a breath, feeling like a speeding train about to run out of tracks. “And I know Jimin and Tae and Jungkook are all head over heels for her and each other, Namjoon just about worships the ground she walks on, Hoseok looks at most of the people in this house like he wants to eat them alive in the best way possible, and it’s just- All these feelings are all over the place and it just seems cruel that you couldn’t just like me. To want me to still be in your bed when you wake up, to want to cook for me not just with me, to maybe kiss when we fuck, I don’t know, it’s-” Yoongi forcefully cuts himself off before he digs that particular hole any deeper. “I guess the odds just aren’t in my favour here. Do you even like men? Romantically, I mean? A good fuck is fine, but-”

“I do, yes,” Jin says with a wince.

Yoongi’s heart sinks. “Just me then,” he surmises in a hollow tone. “That’s okay.”

Jin frowns. “I’m not entirely sure what you wanted to achieve with this conversation,” he says, in a voice so soft it could shatter, in a voice that sounds like he’s worried Yoongi might be the one to shatter, “but it sounds like whether you want to admit it or not, this friends with benefits thing just isn’t right for us. There’s too many loose strings and it’s getting messy.” Yoongi goes to butt in, but Jin isn’t done, raising his brows to get him to pause. “I want to be fully honest with you, Yoongi. I don’t think it’s wise for you to put your wellbeing on the line for a possibility. We should end this.”

There’s a part of Yoongi that’s writhing in relief, at seeing a light out of the cave, an escape. But that part of Yoongi is drowned out by the majority of his being, the part that can’t bear a goodbye. “It’s not messy,” Yoongi blurts against his better judgement, “I told you I’d keep my feelings out of this and I will. I want to fuck you, hyung, and you want to fuck me, and I see no reason to stop when I’m perfectly fine.”

“Are you?” Jin asks dubiously. “I’m not going to continue this a moment further if I feel like you’re suffering because of this, Yoongi. It would be wrong of me.” He opens his mouth to continue, but is interrupted by a swooshing noise.

Yoongi jumps and whirls around just as Jungkook hops through the sliding door, grinning at the two of them. Yoongi sighs, relieved it seemed like the kid hadn’t heard anything. “This is a private conversation, Jungkook.”

“Is that, like, your code?” the youngest asks. “Wait, doesn’t matter. Anyway; I want in.”

Jin frowns. “You what?”

Jungkook’s smile just grows wider, exposing his teeth. “I want in, hyung, you two always sneak away to fuck, so I’ve come to join. I brought supplies.”

Yoongi’s mouth drops open as the black-haired boy pulls his hand out of his pocket to reveal a fistful of condom packets. “Do you just carry those around in hope, or…?”

“I specifically went upstairs to get them,” Jungkook announces proudly. “So can I join the sex pact now?”

Jin pinches his brow. “There is no sex pact, Jungkookie, and now’s really not a great ti-”

“You can join, Kookie,” Yoongi interrupts, ignoring the disbelieving stare Jin sends him. The older man wanted to be assured that Yoongi was fine? He could do that. “Come sit on my lap.”

Jungkook looks like a kid on Christmas morning as he scrambles over, shoving the condoms back in his pocket. He clambers onto Yoongi’s lap with a touch of clumsiness, but settles in proudly, back against his chest. Automatically, Yoongi wraps his arms around him, low over his hips like a seatbelt.

Jin still seems to disapprove, hand dipping below the table to rub at his leg again. “This isn’t a good idea,” he says with a frown, “things will get messy if we start involving more people.”

Yoongi grins, leaning forward to press chaste kisses against Jungkook’s neck, making him giggle and squirm. Proving he was fine was one thing, but making Jin jealous? Making him feel what Yoongi had felt every time he gushed about Y/n? Yoongi wouldn’t turn an opportunity like that down. “Come on, hyung,” he coos teasingly, one of his hands lazily pressing down on Jungkook’s quickly-stiffening bulge, “our pretty boy just wants to play. If you aren’t interested, I’ll just fuck him myself.”

Jin’s eyes flare, watching Jungkook wriggle in Yoongi’s lap as he begins to suck a trail of hickies over the sensitive flesh. “I’m sure we’ll give him a better time together,” he says in a gravelly voice, and gets up out of his chair, stalking over to the pair. “But first, don’t you want to put on a show?”

Yoongi lifts his head up as Jin’s fingers brush over his cheek, and in a moment he’s being kissed with bruising intensity, all tongue and teeth. Jungkook whines and clutches at Yoongi’s shoulder, wanting in, but Jin’s lips taste like possessiveness and jealousy, and Yoongi thinks they’ve never been so sweet.

#cypherwritersnet #bts smut #bts x reader #jimin smut #jimin x reader #jin smut #jin x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #ot7 smut #ot7 x reader

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rekquiemredstar · 3 years

Text

Victims

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings:Fluff,mention of trauma,rape(not by Bucky), torture. (No mention of rape in this chapter but will be in future ones)

Description: You discover you may have misjudged Bucky.

This is my first Chapter of an idea I’ve been wanting to play out for a while now. More to come very soon.

Chapter 1: Sleep

Bucky didn’t talk much.

Especially not to you. “He wasn’t always like this.” Steve had said to you once in passing, his keen senses picking up on just how tense your shoulders got whenever Bucky had blatantly ignored you. Good old Steve, not a bad word to say about anyone. You tried to brush it off, but you really hated being ignored. It made you feel like a pathetic, over excited puppy dog nipping at everyones heels for attention. You were loud, and blunt, and very aware of how much social space you took up when you engaged in conversation. You had no doubt it was annoying. Many times you tried to curb your hyper behavior, but that was exhausting, and eventually you had to come to the conclusion that that was just you. You were who you were, and everyone-save Bucky-adored you. That was on him, you couldn’t change how he felt.

You weren’t quite sure how to approach Barnes, having only ever known him as The Asset before you all came to the compound. The first time you met, he’d lifted you off the ground with a metal hand to your throat. He would have snapped your neck if Steve hadn’t gotten him off of you. You really hated that, too. You wanted so desperately not to need saving, ever. You were strong, but you were no Super Soldier, and the overly competitive parts of you reeled against that with everything they had. You did not need to be saved. Not by Steve or anyone.

You weren’t the only one on the team without powers. You learned from shared experience it didn’t make you any less essential. Just hurt like a son of a bitch sometimes. Like Bucky, you had been taken by Hydra against your will. Unlike Bucky-you hadn’t been brainwashed. Just tortured. No matter how hard they pushed, no matter how many times you had been left bruised and bleeding on the icy concrete floor you never lost sight of what was right. When Hydra’s infiltration of Shield was out in the open, and they released the Winter Soldier into the world again you felt like it was the moment you had been waiting for. Suddenly everything they had taught you about weapons and hand to hand became a brutal mistake on their part. When Nick Fury learned about the things you had done, what you knew, seen you in action, he made sure you and Steve Rogers got acquainted. After that, you never had to look for a job a day in your life. Now you were here.

It wasn’t yet light out when you headed down the stairs, dressed in a black running gear from head to toe, all the way down to your shoes that were propped against the wall in waiting. Your socks were actually the only colorful thing you had on, red white and blue donning the captain America shield, an ongoing joke between you and Steve.

You were always up before anyone else, craving the silence and peace you felt in the early morning, beginning your usual run just as the sun crested the hilltops. Your workout regimen was insanely strict, you beat yourself up whenever you ran late, often feeling guilty about it the rest of the day. Absentmindedly, you bobbed your head to the song playing in your headphones, doing your best to keep relatively quiet as you mixed up your pre-workout in a shaker bottle. You spun to set it on the counter beside you, jumping when you noticed the outline of a figure sitting across from you.

“Jesus,” you said more to yourself than to him, lowering your headphones to around the base of your neck. You popped the cap of your bottle and rolling your shoulders. Taking your first sip of caffeine, you held his stare.

“You scared me, man.”

Bucky said nothing, though his eyes widened slightly- the only indication that he had heard you at all. He sat straight and rigid behind the marble countertop, but he looked…softer somehow. His lips parted slightly, exhaling a short breath, then pressed together gently. His grey henley was wrinkled and disheveled, his hands laid flat on his thighs, as though he was awaiting his next order.

“Are you going for a run?” He asked in such a tender tone that you blinked twice before you processed that it was even him speaking. You weren’t even aware that he knew you ran. You weren’t even aware he knew you existed half the time.

“Uh-yeah.” You responded cautiously, swirling the contents of your bottle to incorporate the undissolved powder at the bottom. Bucky gave a small nod, greasy strands of dark hair falling into his eyes as he did so. Dark circles plagued in under-eyes, while the glass blue of his irises looked dull and worn. He looked rough, even for him. You always thought he was the best looking one here, but it’s a little hard to appreciate someones looks when all they ever do is disregard you. Now that you got a really good look at him, even with the obvious sleep deprivation, you could see just how handsome he really was.

“You go every day?” The Soldier’s next question pulled you from your drifting thoughts and you had a question of your own; why did he care? The longest conversation you had ever had with this man was the time he asked you to pass the A1 and that was a month ago.

“Six days a week,” you started, with caffeine running through your brain you were unable to keep yourself from over-explaining.

“Wednesdays are my rest days, It’s the only day I get to sleep in but I usually don’t. I hate taking rest days, but it’s better for your body if you do.”

You finished your drink and set the bottle in the sink for now, you would wash it later. You were ready to abandon this weird fucking conversation. Sliding your headphones back over your ears, you pulled out your phone and started to search for a song to run to when you glanced up and noticed the look on his face. You hadn’t been through anything close to what he had, but you knew a thing or two about trauma. You definitely knew that look from all the times you’d seen it in your reflection.

You paused your music and took the headphones down again, setting them on the counter this time.

“Are you okay?” You asked, pressing your hips against the ledge, leaning your palms on the counter, ready to listen. The sincerity of your voice threw him off. He was so used to being on the outside looking in, watching you make your sarcastic quips to everyone, chuckling to himself when no one was looking. He was always blown away by just how clever you were, and how quick your mind worked. He didn’t think he could keep up in a conversation with you in a million years. It wasn’t often Sargent Barnes was intimidated. You were fiery, and tough, funny as hell-and you didn’t take shit from anyone.

Bucky had heard from Steve that you had a big heart, but he had never seen the softer side of you.

His eyes were shiny when he looked up at you, his voice echoed with defeat.

“I don’t know how I got here.” He said quietly.

“I don’t want to move. I-“ His voice choked a little.

“I don’t know where I’m supposed to be.”

You felt your heart squeeze in your chest. God, what this poor man had endured. He had been told where to go, what to do, what to say- for years he had been controlled. Now he was free, and he was confused, scared. Hydra was no walk in the park, but you get used to the routine of torment and control. You knew better than anyone what that was like.

“How long have you been down here?” You asked. He was still, then he responded.

“A few hours, I think.” He didn’t look at the clock, just stared straight ahead. He must have gotten up in the middle of the night from a bad dream.

You sucked in a small breath through your teeth, then exhaled, letting the tension release from between your shoulder blades.

“Okay,” You said quietly, setting your phone down and rounding the side of the counter. Your run could wait a little while.

“Okay. That’s okay. Do you want me to help you back to you room?” Bucky shook his head.

“I think I broke a mirror. Glass everywhere.” You nodded, making a mental note to clean it up when you got back.

Bucky’s breath hitched slightly, increasing in rhythm. “I don’t know where I’m supposed to be.” He repeated, and you slid your hand toward him on the counter, leaning on your elbow so you were face level with him.

“Hey,” Your voice was soft, calm, even. It encouraged him to stay the same by your example.

“It’s alright, I’m going to help you.”

You had your mission now, heading back to the kitchen you put the tea kettle on, then opened the freezer, taking out the frozen eye mask Tony sometimes used for hangovers. You dug into the cabinet taking out two peppermint tea bags from your hidden stash, dropping one in the nearest mug, and tucking one in your sweatshirt pocket.

You were beside him again, moving the ice pack toward his forehead. Bucky jerked backward with a quick inhale, and you drew your arm inward. You remembered his mask. “I’m just going to put it on your forehead.” You murmured. Bucky’s bottom lip quivered. “Don’t put that on me, please.” Your fingers curled, and you nodded in understanding.

“Okay, okay, one sec.” You jogged back into the kitchen and traded the ice pack for two large chunks of ice.

“Let’s try this instead.”

Bucky watched you carefully, your well muscled legs flexing as you busied yourself in the kitchen. He had been distantly aware that you were in good shape, but your normal black cargo pants must have hid a lot from view, because now that he was seeing you in the leggings you wore to run-he couldn’t stop looking. God damn, you really took care of yourself. His eyes snapped back up when you turned around again. You were careful to switch the stove off before the kettle wailed, pouring hot water into the mug and sliding it in font of him. Steam swirled from the cup and the soldier caught a whiff of mint.

You were in front of him again, conscious not to make too many sudden movements. “Turn toward me.” You instructed, and he followed orders, allowing you to stand between his legs as you soothed a cube of ice over each of his temples. His eyes fluttered slightly, the frozen temperature sent a shock of relief down his spine. He couldn’t hold back the pained groan as it erupted from his chest when you moved your fingers in slow circles, applying just the right amount of pressure.

“Y’know,” You began. “Before I was here, before any of this, I worked at a mental facility for at-risk teenagers.”

Bucky’s brow knit. He had always assumed that with your skills with firearms and combat that you had always been in some sort of covert ops position. He was realizing just how little he knew about you. Steve talked about you sometimes, but his jaw had always been real tight when it came to your past. “Drugs, alcohol, suicide, abuse-I hated it, it was too hard on me mentally-but I learned a lot. Most importantly, I learned that when you press something cold to your temple or forehead, it sends a shock to your neurotransmitters. Basically telling your system that you’re in pain, countering panic by releasing chemicals into the body that slow down the release of cortisol and adrenaline.”

The dark haired man soaked in every word you said . He knew you talked a lot, but you’d never talked this much to him before, and he was eating it up. Bucky had always like the sound of your voice. He didn’t even mind the melting water running down his neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt.

“You can also bite down on a lemon wedge. ” You offered, taking the cubes of ice away and tossing them into the sink. You pulled your sweatshirt sleeve over the heel of your hand and dabbed the water away, he leaned into your touch this time.

“Or smell strong peppermint.” You said, gently lifting his metal arm by the wrist and snatching the packet of tea from your pocket, dropping it in his shiny palm.

“It’s called grounding.” You stated, motioning for him to try.

Hesitantly, the soldier brought his hand to his nose, inhaling deeply. He looked back at you with one grateful nod. It helped. You pointed curtly to the cabinet by the fridge.

“I always keep a box of tea in there, it’s shoved way in the back because someone keeps taking it, probably Sam, but you’re welcome to as much as you’d like.” You slid the now perfect temperature tea into his free hand.

“Drink it, It always helps calm me down.”

Bucky took two greedy gulps, downing about half it’s contents in one go and making you giggle. It made his eyelids heavy.

“C’mon, Sergeant Barnes.” You coaxed, beckoning him to follow you into the other room. When he stood, you had to take a step back. You weren’t exactly the shortest person, but even so, had always worn tactical boots around him and they added a couple inches to your height. With you just in socks, you realized how much he towered over your five foot seven stature. It both scared and excited you. You edged a foot backward, circling it behind yourself and swaying your weight on it as if you were ready for him to take a swing at you. He eyed your stance momentarily before you broke and softened again, shaking out fists you hadn’t even realized you’d clenched. You didn’t trust him yet.

Wordlessly, you led him to the couch. His footsteps behind you were lighter than you thought they would be, but of course he had both stealth and brute force on his side. That sent a tingle down your stomach that you chose to ignore.

“Lay down.” You said as you dragged the coffee table closer to the couch. Bucky did as he was told, his burned out mind thankful to have some sort of direction. His eyes were half lidded and languorous, the long forgotten feeling of sleep pulling at the edges of his bruised psyche. His eyes tracked your every move. His stare somewhat lazy with fatigue, but right on target like the skilled sniper you’d seen in action so many times.

“Try to get some sleep.” Your voice was still soft, but brimmed with anticipation for your upcoming workout. Bucky felt a sudden pang of guilt for keeping you back an extra half hour. He glanced over his shoulder at the window, seeing through the gap in the shades that the sun was already up.

“I’ll check in with you when I get back.” You added, taking a large cashmere blanket from the nearby armchair and draping it over him. He hadn’t been tucked into bed in over 70 years.

You scampered back to the kitchen to retrieve his mug, but when you set it down on the table and looked at his face, he was already asleep.

“Sleep well, Sergeant.” You said quietly.

Bucky’s eyes were open the minute you turned your back, watching as you pulled your shoes on and jogged out the door. He craned his neck so he could watch you take off down the neatly paved road.

It was only when you were completely out of sight that he finally let himself fall asleep.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #avengers #sebastian stan #Bucky barnes romance #Bucky #bucky barnes angst #the winter solider x reader

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arumin-arureruto · 3 years

Text

Honeytea PT 1

Kyoya x fem reader and Hikaru x fem reader, Kyoya angst, Hikaru slowburn.

Warnings: manipulation, Kyoya angst

word count: 2k

songs to listen to while reading:

The Night We Met - Lord Huron

Everything I wanted - Billie Eilish

Bitches Broken Heart - Billie Eilish

(I'll probably make a Spotify playlist at some point)

Outfit reader is wearing:

"ouch" the boiling hot water dripped from the tip of the tea kettle and onto your hand

"Mrs Ootori let me help you with that" said one of the kitchen workers as she rushed to your aid, already grabbing a towel.

"Oh no it's ok, this is for Kyoya and I would like to make him tea myself, I haven't been in a kitchen in so long though it seems I'm a bit rusty." you laughed while running your hand under cold water.

The water helped soothe the burning but you would definitely feel an unpleasant sting later.

This time you payed more attention as you poured the water into the mug.

Looking through the assortments of tea you tried looking for Kyoya's favorite, mint and passionfruit.

You put the tea bag in the water and put back all the other tea boxes, you and Kyoya used to love buying exotic teas from all around the world and trying them. The thought of doing something as simple as drinking tea with your husband made you smile.

You picked up the mug and started walking out of the kitchen, smiling at the staff that were busy at work already prepping for tomorrow's meals.

The manor's halls were dimly lit and empty, Kyoya insisted on buying a big lavish house even though it was just you two most of the time.

Walking slowly as to not spill any of the tea all you could hear was your breathing and your bare feet hitting the cold marble floor.

When you got to Kyoya's office you knocked, and waited for permission to come in.

No answer.

You knocked again and waited.

Still no answer.

You grabbed the doorknob thinking you'd just let yourself in when you remembered what happened last time you walked into his office without permission.

A chill went down your spine and you felt a lump in your throat.

"It's okay, he said it wouldn't happen again" you thought to yourself.

Still you decided to try knocking one more time, after you knocked the third time you heard Kyoya's voice coming from behind the door.

"You may come in"

You slowly opened the door and walked inside, still holding the mug in your hand.

"How can I help you?" he asked not looking up from his laptop.

"I brought you some tea" you hesitantly put it down on his desk, your hands already missing the warmth the mug provided.

"I appreciate it, you may leave" he still wasn't looking at you.

"Actually I was wondering if you wanted to come to bed with me?" you spoke the words quickly and nervously.

"No thank you, I am quite busy at the moment and would like some peace and quiet to continue my work if you don't mind."

"You've been leaving earlier for work and staying up later to finish it, I've just been feeling lonely and wanted to spend some time together that's all"

oh no.

Word vomit.

You did not mean to say that thought out loud.

Kyoya let out a loud and annoyed sigh, he stood up from his desk and started walking towards you.

You felt your heart beating in your ears and a lump starting to form in your throat as his tall lanky figure approached you.

Already preparing yourself for the worst you closed your eyes and looked down.

"Like I said, I am busy at the moment with important work and do not have time to deal with you and your loneliness, will I have to repeat myself a second time?"

His mouth was right next to your ear, you could feel his warm breath on your neck.

"No, I understand" you said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Then you may leave"

you gave a quick nod and turned to leave, already feeling the tears in your eyes threatening to spill while he returned to his desk.

"Y/n, before you leave I ask that you learn your place in this house, you are in no position to waltz into my office and demand that I drop everything to spend time with you, do you hear me?"

You stopped in your tracks. His voice was cold and emotionless, the chill you felt earlier returning.

Your voice shook a little.

"Yes"

"Good, then we understand each other my dear."

You hurried and left Kyoya's office quickly, tears streaming down your face.

You had only been married for a year and 4 months, why was your marriage already dying? Before you got engaged you and Kyoya had already been dating for almost 3 years so you knew he did like you, what happened?

You continued walking to your room, the house's unwelcoming atmosphere making you want to ball up and cry even more.

When you got to the room you and Kyoya shared you frantically looked for your phone, turning over pillows and accidentally messing up the tidy bed one of the maids had made.

"Son of a bitch where is it" you thought while continuing to search the bed. Your vision was blurry because of the tears so that didn't help.

After 5 minutes of turning the room upside down for it you found your phone, sitting neatly on your vanity.

You quickly picked it up and hurriedly scrolled down your contact list.

Majority of the numbers were women from families Kyoya thought it would be beneficial for you to associate with, your actual friends and family took up less than 30% of the numbers in your phone.

After scrolling for a little longer you found the number you had been looking for.

You quickly called the number and waited while it rang.

"Hey this is Hikaru leave a message, or don't, I really don't care."

fuck

It was pretty late so he was probably asleep, but you decided to try again.

You paced around the room and waited while the phone rang a second time.

After what it felt like ages you finally heard a voice.

"y/n?"

Your spirits started to lift and a little smile crept up to your face.

"Hikaru? I'm sorry did I wake you up"

Hikaru let out a sleepy laugh.

"Yeah you big head it's almost midnight, its fine though, what's up? You sound weird"

"I'm-"

You froze, should you tell him?Should you tell him that your marriage was falling apart? That you felt out of place in your own home? that you felt lonelier then ever?

"I've actually been having a pretty shitty night" you laughed, mostly out of nervousness than joy.

Suddenly you couldn't hold it in anymore, tears started running down your face again and you let out a loud, guttural sob.

"Sorry I didn't want you to hear that" you laughed again as you wiped your nose with the sleeves of your robe.

"Y/n what's going on?" Hikaru's voice grew alarmed

"I don't think I can do this over the phone, I have to talk to you, in person."

"Ok I'll come over right now if you want."

It sounded like he was stumbling out of bed and putting on his slippers.

"Oh no no its fine, it can wait till tomorrow" you said quickly, even if Kyoya wasn't home you needed some time alone to think so Hikaru coming over right now was out of the question.

"Are you sure?" he asked, still sounding worried.

"Yes I'm sure, I'll talk to you tomorrow"

"Ok but are you 100% sure?"

You felt a smile creep onto your face

"Go back to sleep Hitachiin"

"Whatever you say Ootori"

You laughed again, this time a genuine laugh.

"Goodnight Hikaru"

"Goodnight y/n"

You hung up, feeling happier than you were before.

You threw your phone on the bed and went into the bathroom that connected to your bedroom to wash your face.

After splashing some cold water on your face you looked into the mirror and almost didn't recognize the woman before you.

What happened?

You had everything anyone could want. Looks, money, power, a rich handsome husband, a high status in society.

Your eyes didn't have the same glint they did back in high school, you felt as if you had aged 2 decades in just 8 years.

You and Kyoya had started dating in your senior year of high school, he was attending his first year at Ouran University and he proposed to you right after he graduated while you were starting your 4th year at the university.

You were happy, everything was going great, it all started going downhill after you got married.

Kyoya became cold, it's as if after he had you wrapped around his finger he didn't bother trying to please you. Sometimes you wondered if the only reason he targeted you was because of how it would make him look, but you couldn't think of a way in which marrying a commoner that was attending Ouran on a scholarship would benefit him in any way.

You tried forgetting those awful thoughts, no, Kyoya loved you, you guys were just going through some hard times as do any couples.

As you leaned on the sink staring at your own reflection you heard Kyoya coming into the room.

You took one last look in the mirror to make sure any traces of your crying were gone.

you turned around and there was Kyoya, silently staring at you while leaning on the door frame.

You didn't know what to do so you just leaned with your back on the sink while he slowly approached you.

He ran his hands down the side of your body down to your thighs and put this face in the crook of your neck.

He inhaled and exhaled, hands feeling the back of your thighs.

"God you smell amazing"

Just his deep voice close to your ear was enough to make your legs go weak.

No.

Sex wasn't getting him out of this.

Until he used words to apologize you weren't going to give him anything.

"I thought you were busy" You said harshly.

"I took care of things that couldn't be delayed, everything else can wait until tomorrow." You could feel his breathing speeding up.

no, nope. Until he apologized he would get nothing.

"Hmm" you said, still not giving him a reaction.

He seemed to pick up on your strategy because he lifted you up and put you on the bathroom counter.

The cold marble against your bare thigh scared you but before you could process the feeling Kyoya put his mouth on your neck and sucked the skin.

Since you were caught by surprise you couldn't suppress the moan that came out of your mouth.

"Now now Mrs Ootori, what troubles you? Giving me the cold shoulder isn't very nice." he was whispering in your ear while undoing your silk robe.

Your own breathing was starting to speed up and you could feel heat pooling at the bottom of your underwear.

"How about you try apologizing?" You didn't try to stop him from undoing your robe.

"And why would I do that?" he asked while feeling the exposed skin on your collarbone with his nose.

"For the way you treated me when I went into your office" You said, anger starting to return.

"To be fair you interrupted me while I was doing very important work and it made me upset, so who here should really be apologizing?"

He was right, you knew how much he valued his work time and you still interrupted him.

Ashamed, you put your head down.

"I'm sorry" you mumbled.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you"

"I'm sorry" this time you said it louder.

Kyoya lifted his head up to look you in the eyes.

"Good girl. Now, there are other ways you could apologize to me."

He picked you up by your thighs from the bathroom counter and carried you to the bed.

By then your robe was already discarded on the bathroom floor and you laid on the bed, just in a thin and short sleeping gown.

Kyoya took off his shirt and pants and straddled himself on top of you, arms on either sides of your head.

Although you laid there with your husband on top of you, all you could think about was seeing your best friend the next day.

A/N: Hey babes so this is just the first chapter, I'm definitely making this a slowburn so expect a lot of chapters. As a Kyoya girl this was painful to write </3, anyways love y'all!!!

#kyoya ootori #ohshc #ouran high school host #kyoya senpai #ouran high school host club headcannons #kyoya headcanon #kyoya x reader #ouran kyoya #ohshc kyoya #hikaru x reader #hikaru hitachiin #ohshc hikaru

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mochiheartsit · 3 years

Text

a drink or two ( byakuya x drunk reader one shot )

heyy! my first writing post on here! hope it turns out okay :) - mochi

warnings: mention of alcohol, intoxicated reader, kissing/making out, cussing, brief idea of m*rder

!gender neutral reader! { y/n : your name f/n : friends name }

non despair arc/non story related

word count : 1,118

summary: y/n drinks a lil too much at the club and needs to get home. too tipsy to find their way back they decide to go to their friends house close by. surprised to find a stranger asleep on the couch!! things escalate with the heat of the moment

The flashing lights in the club reflected off of the thin layer of sweat that had formed on your skin. You danced to your hearts content, unbothered by the people you kept bumping into. Those shots you drank were finally getting to you. Brain fuzzy and unable to think clear, you craved closeness. Alcohol tends to make most people's "animal instincts" come out. You grinded on multiple clubbers throughout the night, none of them making a lasting impression. Each one sloppier than the next, all wanting the same thing from you. After being on your feet for hours they began to ache and burn, you knew it was time to call it a night.

" Fuck , I need to get home , "

You muttered barely audible over the loud music. The bass thumped the floor and sent vibrations up your spine. Walking out the door, sleazy pick up lines were thrown at you from left and right. Scoffing at them you took your phone out of your bag and checked the time.

" One twenty seven ? Damn it- they're probably asleep by now ,"

The safe haven that was your best friends apartment was just two blocks away from the club. Too drunk to call a taxi and find your way home you decided to walk to their place. Thank god you knew where the spare key was. You fumbled down empty streets, the cold air was crisp and turned your nose pink. Finally, a tall building looked familiar and you checked the address to make sure. The lobby greeted you with warm air, almost tripping over yourself to get to the elevator.

" Floor number three right ? Lets see , "

You leaned against the railing, eyes half lidded and tired. The red light above the door showed a 3 on it and chimed. The doors opened and you stumbled out. Dim lighting in the halls only added to how intoxicated you felt. Searching for apartment 215, you finally came across the numbers on a white door. The keys were hidden in a nearby lampshade of one of the lights in the hall.

* click *

The smell of mint tea bombarded your senses as you opened the door and walked inside. Not even questioning it, you peeled your shoes off and threw your bag down. You walked into the kitchen hoping to see your friend still awake, but there was nobody. A lukewarm teapot sat on the counter. Faint chatter was coming from the TV in the living room, so you hoped to see them sitting on the couch. Instead you saw a complete stranger in your best friends apartment.

" HEY !! Hellloooooo ! "

You slurred out and walked closer to the mysterious stranger. He had golden blonde hair that laid meticulously, eyes closed under his white glasses. His button up shirt ironed so there were hardly any wrinkles showing. The guy had fallen asleep. You laughed to yourself and crept over, inspecting him at his current state. He seemed important and wealthy? So what was he doing here? Where was your best friend? He smelled of strong, fancy cologne. You couldn't help but lean down close and smell the collar of his shirt. As you stood up the stranger locked eyes with you, confusion plastered on his face. The same expression on yours as well.

" Who are you? How did you get in here ? This is my friend's place ,"

You asked impatient for the stranger to answer. He adjusted his glasses and looked you up and down. It was his turn to inspect you, and he did. Though he looked unpleased with your appearance, he smirked.

" Well did your friend not mention that they would be going out of town for a few days ? "

He questioned snarkily, your cheeks felt hot from embarrassment. Honestly you couldn't remember if they had told you or not.

" I don't remember . . . But that still doesn't answer my questions, who are you ? "

You walked over to sit next to him on the couch, making yourself comfortable. He inched away from you, making sure you wouldn't touch him. You laughed and sat crisscross facing him.

" I've never heard them talk about you before . How do you know f/n ? "

You admitted, surprised with yourself for being so comfortable around this new person. But the situation was pretty obvious. Aaaaand you were pretty tipsy.

" Aren't you being quite trusting of someone you've never met before ? "

That smug half smile was pretty attractive and made yourself grin softly. You nodded bashfully in agreement.

" Yea , probably . So if you're a murderer or something get it over with already I'm bored , "

The blonde male just scoffed and turned his face away from you. He adjusted his glasses again before sinking back into the couch. Finally relaxing.

" Name's Byakuya Togami . . . f/n and I were friends when we were younger and they reached out to me about house sitting , "

He seemed almost a little bashful to introduce himself. Your grin turned slightly seductive after Byakuya gave in.

" Pleasure to meet you , I'm y/n . I've known f/n for god knows how long now , "

You paused and contemplated asking about his clothing and wealthy smelling cologne.

" I can't help myself , what's up with your whole ' rich boy ' thing you got going on ? "

Togami hummed, which was his attempt at laughing. He was amused though.

" Well I am my families heir , I thought you would've recognized my last name by now . "

He shook his head and continued.

" You've obviously had a drink or two . "

Byakuya stood up without another word and walked towards the kitchen.

" Wait , where are you going ? "

You asked standing up to follow him but you almost fell flat on your face. His hand grasped yours firmly helping you regain your balance. You looked into his aquamarine eyes, then down to his lips, then his eyes again. Neither of you had let go of each other's hand. The audience on the TV made the 'oooooh' sound they do when a couple finally has their moment. You swallowed, contemplating who would make a move.

" If you want to kiss me , get it over with already . . I'm bored , "

Byakuya smirked as his other arm snaked its way around your waist. You didn't hesitate to lean up and press your lips against his. He was hesitant, you were pushy. A happy medium was found once he let you take control. You pushed him up against the nearest wall running your hands all over his chest. Parting from the kiss, your lips pecked at his jaw tenderly, then down his neck. He stopped you abruptly and you stared up in surprise.

" You still taste like vodka . "

He went back in for another kiss before dragging you to the couch.

#byakuya togami #byakuya togami x reader #x reader #danganronpa #non despair au #god i want him so bad #mochiheartsit<3

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coffeestainsandcashmere · 3 years

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Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - (older Dramione), Part Four

Well, here’s part four for you! It’s really just part three continued, but since I didn’t want the previous part to be 7k words or so long, I split it up. The total wordcount is 12.4k words now!!

Thank you very much to those of you who’ve commented and sent me lovely owls on here to let me know you’re enjoying it! (this is a sideblog for me, so I don’t respond to comments on posts, but I do answer asks as Cashmere).

I know a lot of folks (me included) don’t like starting to read WIPs that are unfinished, so thanks to those of you who have hopped on now. Consider yourselves honoured beta readers! It’ll go up on AO3 when it’s all posted on here and completed.

No real warnings for this one, just some discussion of their past relationships (for both Hermione and Draco) before the plot thickens and things warm up a bit in part five. Not sure when that’ll go up - it kind of depends on how much feedback I get on this one I guess! Comments and reblogs feed an author’s muse after all.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

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At her wry smile and tiny shrug, Malfoy laughed, apparently reassured. “A little,” he repeated softly to himself under his breath.

After a heartbeat she shot him a sidelong look and added, “You’ve changed so much, Draco. I can hardly believe it, but it’s clear as day.”

He did a little double take at the sound of his name on her lips, and then he smiled. It was such a tiny, fragile melting of his expression that she nearly missed it.

“I mean it,” she said, tightening her fingers on his steel-cable forearm for a fraction of a second. “I don’t know if it was the war or your marriage, or becoming a father, or something else entirely, but… you’re not the same person you were back at Hogwarts. Not at all.”

“Thank fuck for that,” he hissed. “I had a hell of a lot of growing up to do. I think I did ninety percent of it in the space of sixth year. But Astoria helped steady me after… after Hogwarts and all the bollocks and bullshit of the aftermath of… of… you know.”

“‘Bollocks and bullshit’ is a mighty casual way to say ‘a short stay in Azkaban and three years of house arrest’, Malfoy. That’s got to change a person, for sure.”

He shrugged. “I’m just glad it’s all in the past now. For the most part, anyway.” The silence that followed spoke volumes of the baggage that they were all still hauling around with them, of one kind or another.

They wound their way across the park’s pathways with no particular direction in mind. As the glittering waters of the Serpentine drew into view in the deepening dusk, she murmured, “I’m glad you came tonight.”

“Me too,” he said, voice little more than a low rumble above the sussurating wind in the trees. “Theo seemed on fine form, and it was nice to see Pans again. It’s been a few months. Longbottom looks good too,” he added as an afterthought. “He grew into himself, didn’t he?”

“Mmm,” she nodded. “Never would have called his and Pansy’s relationship though. I thought she went for the bad boys like you and Blaise…”

Malfoy snorted. “I’m a ‘bad boy’ now, am I? That’s an interesting spin on my past.”

“Maybe not so much ‘bad boy’ now as ‘grumpy reclusive Mr. Rochester’. How about that?”

“He one of your Muggle heroes?” he asked without sting.

“Yeah. He’s Jane Eyre’s leading male. A bad-tempered rich man who has a big house in the middle of nowhere and a secret deranged wife in the attic.”

“Well, I hit three out of the four criteria…” he said and Hermione’s heart lurched as she remembered he wasn’t a bachelor but a widower.

“Shit, Draco, I’m sorry,” she said. “That was thoughtless of me.”

He shook his head, the silver hair of his forelock tossing about as he chuckled, an entirely unfamiliar sound which she decided she wanted to hear again almost immediately. “It’s fine, Granger. You haven’t got a malicious bone in your body. Besides, it was a long time ago.”

They came naturally to a halt in front of the man-made lake and stared out at the lapping water for a time before she uncoupled her grip from his arm and shucked her coat back on.

That done, she drew in a deep breath and paused, leaning her forearms on the back of a cast-iron bench overlooking a flock of huddled, plastic pedalo boats moored up offshore. Malfoy remained a pace behind her, back straight as an arrow, his hands tucked into his pockets now that she was no longer hanging onto him.

A fair few Muggles were out and about, some walking lazily as she and Draco had been, others pounding along the pavement on their evening run, and a good number were walking dogs. The sheer mundanity of it all struck her deeply for a moment and her breath caught in her throat.

“Granger?” he asked in a soft voice.

She straightened and turned to look back at him over her shoulder. “I was just thinking how close we came to losing all of this… Sometimes it seems like a million years ago, and others…”

“Like yesterday,” he finished a beat later. His eyes glittered in the half-light, pale lashes ghostly and ethereal, and in the dark, his pupils were wide and black and inviting.

“Let’s keep going, hmm?” she chirped.

In fact, he walked her all the way back to her rather modest apartment in Muggle London. “You didn’t want to live closer to work at the bookshop?” he asked as she fumbled for her very ordinary, Muggle keys with half-frozen fingers.

Giving up, she murmured a quick ‘alohomora’ and pressed her hand to the extra ward she had placed on it. “I’ve lived here since I moved out of the house with Ron. Never seen any point in looking for something bigger or whatever. It’s cosy, and it’s just me anyway. You want to come in? I’ll have to tweak the wards if you do.”

“I… I don’t want to be a bother,” he said, his expression pinching.

“No bother. It’s a three minute job, if that.”

He looked torn, teetering on the edge of a refusal, but as she swept her curls back out of her face and blinked up at him, he seemed to waver, and finally he nodded. “Alright. Yes please.”

“Stay put. I’ll be right back,” she said, and left the door open so that he wouldn’t feel like a stray dog shut out in the cold.

After setting her bag and coat down on a sofa in the main living room, she stood and centred herself, reaching for the wards with her magic. They thrummed reassuringly as she wove a slightly different pattern into them, allowing Draco Malfoy to come and go, and then she released the magic once again.

“Ok!” she called to him and he stepped tentatively inside, shutting the door with a polite click behind him and levering off his fancy dragonhide Oxfords at the doormat.

There was something so intimately sweet about seeing him pad across the fake-wooden lino of her living room floor in his dark socks that she couldn’t help grinning.

“Those are some powerful wards you’ve got up,” he commented as he blinked curiously around the room.

“Hangover from the Ministry days, I suppose. Plus this is technically a Muggle building, so I can’t have anyone noticing anything strange. There’s another witch here, up on the seventh floor, but we don’t see each other often. You want something to drink? I’ve got tea or coffee, and a small selection of wine, though nothing nearly as nice as what Theo has on tap…”

He smiled. “A tea would be lovely.”

She ducked out into the tiny galley kitchen and lost herself in the simple task of filling and boiling the Muggle kettle. She turned to find Malfoy leaning his shoulder against the door frame, hands cupped under opposite elbows, watching her with that owl-like intensity again.

“Muggle kitchen,” she grinned almost sheepishly. “Magic is great for a lot of things, but some routines just can’t be beaten.” Ron had always hated and mistrusted things like electric kettles and refrigerators, not quite fully understanding the way it grounded her in her Muggle upbringing.

“I’m not judging you,” he said, voice low and slightly hoarse. “I’m just interested. Do you mind?”

“No,” she said, fishing in the cupboard for her selection of teabags. She held the cardboard box open for him to select one and her eyebrows rose when he chose a delicate mint and chamomile one, but she offered no comment. “I can give you a masterclass in using Muggle kitchens if you like.”

His lips pulled back into a broad, dazzling smile and he laughed. “Go on then.”

“Fridge,” she said, opening it and showing him. “Keeps things cold; powered by electricity. Freezer, keeps things, well, frozen…” She continued her tour while the tea steeped, and by the time she was done, the tea was ready and they made their way back out into the humble living room, with a second-hand sofa and a battered old coffee table with more ringed coffee-stains on than visible surface.

Her stomach rumbled and he raised an eyebrow at her.

“I didn’t get a chance to eat anything yet, other than nibbles at Theo’s,” she cringed.

“Don’t let me stop you having something for supper then,” he said.

“I’m not going to scoff a freezer dinner on my own while you sit there and watch me,” she blurted, laughing. “Unless you want to join me? I’ve got a couple of pizzas in the freezer. Nothing fancy, but they’ll be ready in twenty minutes or so if I put the oven on now.”

Malfoy looked like he’d missed something somewhere but was too embarrassed to ask, so he just said, “Pizza? Sure. The last time I had pizza was when I took Scorpius to Rome.”

“Well,” she said, setting her mug down on the table and heading into the kitchen. Over her shoulder, she called, “I can guaranteed these won’t be nearly as good as those were, but they’re pretty tasty. I think they’re both chicken and pesto - is that alright?”

“Perfectly.”

Oven on, she returned and folded herself into the squashy armchair which sat at right angles to the sofa, tucking one leg up beneath her and drawing the other foot up beside her. Malfoy, of course, sat like he was about to take tea with the Queen, while she felt like a pretzel on a shelf. A comfy pretzel though, she thought as she reached for her mug.

“I’m glad we walked back,” she said after a moment. “I can’t believe I worked myself up into such a tizzy over Ron like that. It’s so childish…”

Malfoy sipped his tea and then cradled it between his long, pale fingers for a moment. “What happened between you two? I thought you three were —”

“— the ‘Golden Trio’?” she purred, voice laden with sarcasm.

He made a conciliatory gesture with his head but said nothing more.

She sighed. “We were. I mean, Harry and I are still super close - I’m James’ godmother after all. Ginny’s the sister I never had, but something went wrong with Ron somewhere along the line.” She knew exactly what the final blow had been, but there had been a myriad other issues on both sides before that. “I think… I think he felt like he never had a real niche, you know? He was always second fiddle to Harry in the heroics and quidditch departments, and, well, everyone knows I was the brains of the trio,” she said self-effacingly. “That’s not to say that he’s stupid — he’s not.”

Malfoy scoffed at that, and for a moment she saw the petulant, petty little thirteen year old he had once been. A deeply sceptical look filled his eyes, and he looked like he was physically biting his tongue to keep himself from disagreeing with her.

“No, really,” she scowled. “He just makes stupid, split-second decisions without thinking anything through. I’m not defending what he did or how he behaved at the end of our marriage, but…” she sighed heavily and drank a mouthful of too-hot tea that scalded her throat on its way down. “He’s in a pretty good place now with Lavender. We just… rub each other up the wrong way, even now I think.”

“Theo said he was being an arsehole earlier,” Malfoy pushed.

She shrugged. “A bit. I think he carries a lot of bitterness towards…” she gestured vaguely in Malfoy’s direction, “… Slytherins? I’m not really sure. Stupid house prejudices that a lot of witches and wizards clearly never get over. As if one moment in our history defines us for the rest of our lives, or as if we’re limited to the characteristics of the house we were sorted into at the age of eleven… It’s just so fucking dumb, Malfoy!”

He laughed softly at that.

“What? You don’t agree?”

“No, I absolutely agree with you. I was enjoying hearing you swear, that’s all. Forgive me.”

She flushed and looked away, anger leaving her as swiftly as it had come. “Ron has a lot of insecurities, and a few of them centre around me, but… I guess I just wasn’t enough for him in the end.”

“How could you possibly be ‘not enough’ for someone, Granger?” Draco asked in a hoarse whisper. “And you were the bloody Minister for Magic for Merlin’s sake…! What more did he want from his witch? Morgana herself reincarnated?”

She laughed long and loud at that, and Malfoy seemed to relax a little in the wake of his little outburst. “My reign was very short though,” she said as she stood and took the opportunity to put the pizzas in the oven. When she returned, she asked carefully, “What about you and Astoria?”

“What about us?” he asked, voice even and steady, though his eyes swirled softly like Trelawney’s crystal balls, hiding their secrets behind a shifting sheen of silver.

“Were you happy?”

Malfoy’s eyes slid away from her to stare unseeing at a point across the room, and he sat back against the sofa cushions, still nursing his cheap, Tesco mug between his hands.

“Yes,” he said eventually. “For the most part we were. It wasn’t… earth-shattering or anything, but it was pretty good, all things considered. It was arranged by our families, you know?”

She nodded.

“I knew Astoria’s older sister, Daphne, far better than I knew her, but Daph promised to an Austrian count already. He’s actually very nice. I’m glad for her.”

“I vaguely remember Daphne from school, but I didn’t have many classes with her as we got older.”

“I’d met Astoria a few times before it was all formally arranged, but even then, we only met a total of perhaps five or six times before the wedding proper. It wasn’t the huge event my mother had always dreamed of throwing for me, but with my father in Azkaban and me under house arrest, the mood wasn’t really there, you know?”

Hermione did some quick maths and realised he must have been only nineteen or so when he’d been married, and her eyes widened. She’d only been twenty-two when Ron and she had tied the knot, but still, that struck her as very young. Scorpius hadn’t been born straight away though, and there had been vicious gossip about blood-curse-related infertility until the little mandrake had arrived. Hermione been about to make the leap to Minister at the incredibly tender age of twenty five when the attack on the Manor had taken place, and Scorpius had been mere months old at the time.

“Toria and I grew to know each other better,” Draco went on, “And in time, I think we came to love each other, in our own way. She certainly adored Scorpius before the blood curse took her.”

“What was she like?” Hermione asked in a whisper.

Again, Malfoy sighed and closed his eyes with his head tipped back to rest against the sofa cushions. “Quiet, intelligent, articulate, easy-going most of the time, but when she got passionate about something, she could be pretty stubborn. Scorpius inherited a lot of that from her.”

“He looks like you though,” she said. “I mean… almost exactly like you did at that age. It gave me quite the turn when I saw the two of you on Platform 9 3/4 you know?”

He smirked and cracked an eye open. “Tell me about it,” he said. “Mother is always calling him ‘Draco’ instead of ‘Scorpius’. It drives him nuts.”

They shared a laugh at that. “Your mother lives with you at the Manor then?”

“Yes and no,” he said, shuffling a little and getting comfy again, relaxing his torso more casually against the arm of the sofa at last. “She moved out of the main manor when Toria and I married. Now she lives at what we affectionately call the Dower House. Officially it’s called Nightshade Cottage.”

“Ominous name,” she said and he smiled again.

“Apt though. There’s a rambling, stone-walled potion-garden round the back of it, full of all sorts of interesting plants, and a stunning rose garden at the front. It’s really beautiful in spring, and rather potent in summer.”

“You make it sound almost welcoming,” she said without thinking and he huffed a dry laugh.

“Parts of the estate really are lovely, Granger; its sordid past notwithstanding.”

When the beeper went on the timer, Malfoy jumped and looked confused, but she laughed and showed him. She did use her wand to cut up the pizzas though, and by the time they were seated back on the sofas with plates in their lap, they resumed their easy talk as if they’d never been interrupted. Watching Malfoy in his fancy clothes and eating pizza with his hands was almost too much for Hermione to bear, but if she focused on his voice too much instead, she found herself mesmerised on that front too. Who’d have thought that Hermione Granger would have found herself growing more and more attracted to Draco Malfoy all these years later.

Long after they’d finished eating, they spoke a little more of Scorpius, and how Malfoy guessed he was getting on after his first week at school. “Of course, he hasn’t written to me yet, but I’m hoping he might pen something this weekend…”

“You worry about him, don’t you?”

“Constantly,” he snorted. “One of the burdens of being a father, I suppose.”

“Of being a good one,” she amended, and she didn’t miss the way he swallowed thickly and blinked his glassy eyes rapidly a few times.

Then he sighed expansively and then levered himself to his feet. “It’s late, Granger, and I should probably be going. I’ve got a meeting to get to early tomorrow morning in Scotland, and I still have a bit of paperwork to do tonight.”

“But it’s the weekend, Malfoy,” she said as she rose too. “You can’t have to work, surely?”

He nodded and shrugged, but made his way to the door and slid his feet back into his shoes without further comment or explanation.

A little, fluttering, doxy-wing cloud of nerves shimmered to life in her chest as they stood face to face at the door. Malfoy swallowed again and hitched a tiny, lopsided smile. “Thanks for tonight, Granger. And…” he faltered and shook his head. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “Thank you.”

“I feel like I should be thanking you,” she said. “You got me out of my funk and walked me safely home.” She ran her fingers through her mass of curls and didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered to watch the movement before he blinked and turned away to open the door, clearing his throat.

With his fingers still on the handle, he paused and looked back over his shoulder. “My pleasure, Granger. Sincerely.”

Hermione barely managed to offer him a watery smile before he was striding off down the corridor.

She lingered in the doorway long after his footsteps had faded down the stairwell — apparently using the Muggle lift alone had proved too daunting for him. After she locked the door and recharged the wards behind her, she picked up his empty plate and mug to put them in the dishwasher.

As she passed the dresser that had once belonged to her mother, she caught sight of a moving photograph of Crookshanks. The half-kneazel was staring at the flat’s front door with his yellow, lamp-like eyes wide. “What do you think of him now, huh Crooks?” she asked the photo. “Bit different, eh?”

Photo-Crookshanks purred and circled in the bottom corner of the frame a few times, bottle-brush tail twitching, before returning to his fireplace and curling up with a look of contentment on his face. God, she missed that cat.

“Yeah. I think I like him too, Crooks,” she said. “Merlin help me, but I think I like him too.”

Part Five

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I’ve only written all 12,410 words of this because people told me they liked it, otherwise it’d have stayed on whatever the first chapter was, so if you want more, let me know with a reblog! Feel free to send me an anonymous owl too if you’re more comfortable doing that.

Anyway, take care, and more soon, I hope. I’ve got a fair chunk plotted out, and it should take us up to Christmas in the storyline (it’s September now for them).

writing masterlist | Ao3

#dramione #dramione fic #older dramione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger x draco malfoy #draco x hermione #draco x hermione fic

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lynettethemadscientist · 3 years

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Concept: An Alternate Universe(?) Saeran x Reader fic based on the 50s sci-fi movie The Alligator People.

I’m standing on a train station platform in Louisiana swamp country. Alone.

Nearby me sits a box labeled radioactive. It’s been hours but surely someone will come for their mail. So I wait.

An old pickup arrives. A mint-haired man wearing dark shades steps out of the truck to pick up the package.

I ask him if he knows of the place I’m looking for and if he’ll take me there.

“They don’t usually have visitors.” His voice is low and cool. “Are they expecting you?”

“No. Not exactly. But they will know who I am.”

The bluenet smiles before telling me to hop in and loading the crate onto the truck.

The drive through the swamp is rough. The man introduces himself as V and gives me a kind smile. Perhaps in an effort to ease my apprehension. But my unease does not come from him.

When V stops to remove a large branch from the roadway, I see two men attempting to wrangle an alligator.

“Have you ever been in bayou country before?” V asks as he returns to the truck.

I shake my head, still staring at the gator thrashing and hissing in the grasp of the men. “It’s so wild and primitive.”

“And deadly. You ought to be careful around here.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

The rest of the drive is no more smooth and no less tense than it began.

We soon reach a plantation house. V drops me off and drives away.

I knock on the door.

The door opens and I’m greeted by a stunningly beautiful white-haired man with scarlet eyes dressed in butler attire. He flashes a charming smile but before he can speak, I hear a cheery male voice from within the house.

“Who is it, Zen?~” The voice chimes.

“It’s a fine lady.” Zen answers as he effortlessly tosses me a wink.

“Well don’t be rude, let her in!~”

I step inside and see a man with racecar-red hair dressed like a Southern belle. His face looks strangely familiar.

“Is this your place?” I ask.

“Of course!” He flourishes an ornate fan. “Welcome to my lovely manor!”

I catch a glimpse of the butler rolling his eyes before I respond. “Well...maybe you can help me. For a long time I’ve been looking for my husband. He disappeared the night we were married. I’ve searched everywhere. I’ve tried everything. And this is my last hope.”

The vermillion-haired belle’s face is still plastered with a silly grin but his eyes show no mirth. “But, why here? Surely you can’t expect to find anything in a swamp but alligators~ And snakes~ Hisssss~”

I hesitate, trying to process the unorthodox demeanor of this man. “I received a mysterious message stating that my husband lived at this address.”

“What is your name?”

“Mrs. Saeran Choi.”

His expression falters for a moment. “Well, there’s no one by that name here~ Some charlatan must have been playing a cruel prank on you.” He touches a hand to his cheek. “But no matter~ There’ll be another train tomorrow~ May we offer you the hospitality of the manor for the night?”

“I suppose…” This man is so absurd, I cannot determine if he is mocking me or just ill-mannered.

“Terrific!” He claps his hands together. “Yoosung!”

A door opens to reveal a blond man with violet eyes wearing a maid outfit. He exits what appears to be a kitchen. “Yes, Master Luciel?”

“Show Mrs- what was your name again?”

“Mrs. Saeran Choi.”

“Show Mrs. Choi to the guest room please~”

Luciel whispers something into Yoosung’s ear before I follow him upstairs.

I distractedly unpack in my room amidst thoughts concerning the strange owner of this house. I’m tempted to dismiss his behavior as merely the eccentricities of a man who’s lived in the swamp too long. But I cannot help but feel that his odd behavior is merely a ruse.

I hear gunshots outside.

I rush to the window and see a blonde woman in a black dress cackling and firing a pistol wildly at gators. I run to the door but find it locked.

I retreat to the bed. I’m trapped here. If I were really a guest they wouldn’t have locked me in.

The gunshots stop.

The maid enters carrying a tea tray.

“Yoosung,” I plead. “Those gunshots. What were they about?”

“Oh...” He throws a mildly contemptuous glance at the window. “That’s the swamp witch. She hates gators.” He sets down the tray and stares at me for a tense moment. “I have to go.”

“Wait please!” I tug at Yoosung’s arm. “Somebody has to help me. Is it true what he told me? Have I come to the wrong place?”

“I can’t- I ought not to say anything, ma’am.”

“Can’t you tell me anything?”

I see pity surfacing in his lavender eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s not my secret to tell.”

He slips a key into my hands and leaves the room.

I hear a door slam and look out another window to see Luciel leaving in a car that looks ill-fitted for the terrain.

I wake up to the sound of a piano playing a sorrowful tune. I feel as though I’ve heard this theme before. I unlock my door and walk softly down the stairs. I can hear the music coming from behind a door to my right.

I open the door and the piano stops playing. In the dark I can barely see a male figure turning to see me before he flees out a side door and into the swamp. I turn on a lamp and see muddy footprints on the floor. Upon approaching the piano I find the keys are wet.

In the morning I stand outside the front door. A man drives up in a fancy boat with wheels. He introduces himself as Jumin Han, the local doctor.

“Is Luciel inside?” He inquires.

“He hasn’t come down yet. Has he been ill, doctor?”

“No. I have some other business with him.”

I pause for a moment before introducing myself. “I’m Mrs. Choi. Mrs. Saeran Choi.” I examine his face as I enunciate my words. “That name doesn’t mean anything to you?”

“No. Should it?”

“I don’t know. Let me explain, doctor. Since my husband disappeared I’ve done nothing but search for him. And I’m going to keep on asking questions.”

“What brings you here?”

“A mysterious message.”

“You came all the way down here. Traveled thousands of miles. On nothing more tangible than that.”

“I’ve traveled much farther, on even less.”

“I see.” The flash of conflict in his eyes is brief but unmistakable. “You found no other evidence?”

“Why? Is there other evidence?”

“Of course not.”

“You did know Saeran didn’t you? I can tell. What is it, doctor? Why won’t any of you tell me about him? What are you all trying to hide?”

“You are obviously overwrought. But that’s understandable given the circumstances. I wish I could help. Please tell Luciel I couldn’t wait, but I’ll stop by later.”

Even as he walks away I’m sure that man did not come here to see Luciel at all but instead to interrogate me.

When Zen brings a car around to bring me to the train station I refuse to leave.

Luciel returns home to find me rifling through the paperwork in his desk.

“What are you doing??” He hikes up his dress and rushes towards me.

“Looking for answers.”

“Get out of there. You’ve no right to look through my things. You were supposed to leave on the train.”

“I’m not leaving here until I get the answers to the questions that brought me here.”

“I told you yesterday you were mistaken.”

“I think you’re lying.”

“Get out of my house.”

“I will not. Who was playing the piano in the dark last night? Someone who left wet footprints on the carpet.”

“You’re imagining things-”

“No I’m not. Anymore than I’m imagining that you want to get rid of me. That you’ve got something to hide.”

His expression hardens. “Just leave it alone. It’s none of your business.”

“The hell it isn’t! What have you done with my husband?”

“Your curiosity will get you nothing but trouble. You need to leave. Now.”

“Saeran is my husband. I’m not leaving until you tell me whatever terrible thing you’ve done to him.”

“I don’t give a damn if he’s your husband! He’s-” His breathing is frantic.

“He’s what?”

Luciel heaves a weary sigh. “He’s my brother.” His eyes glisten. “I have to protect him. No matter what.”

I am halted at this revelation. My confrontational demeanor is whisked away.

As night falls, I wait for Saeran in the piano room. I sit concealed in a large cushioned chair. Behind me I hear the door open and a gravelly voice speak.

“Saeyoung, is she gone?”

“No Saeran, she isn’t.” I stand from the chair and face him.

He covers his face in an instant and flees. I call out to him, but he disappears into the dark, rainy swamp. I take off after him, pleading for him to come back.

“Saeran! Saeran!” I wail. The mud is above my ankles. My arms and legs are bruised from the logs and branches. I have to find him. I call out for him over and over, desperately trying to scream above the storm. But I can’t see him. I can hardly see anything.

I stumble upon a snake that strikes at me and I shriek in fear. The blonde woman I saw earlier appears from the foliage and uses a stick to push away the snake.

“You ought to have better sense, dear.” She coos into my ear. “Nobody goes out into the swamp on a night like this.”

She wraps her arm around my shoulders and leads me into a cabin.

“I don’t understand. Why did you bring me here?” I shiver.

“Well, dear, I thought you’d appreciate me saving you from that snake.” She smiles. It is not a kind smile.

She offers me a drink. It doesn’t look like any alcohol I’ve seen. It’s bright blue. I try to decline, but she insists I take a sip. It’s very bitter. I cough and she chuckles.

I’m sniffling. More from the renewed loss of my husband than from the cold.

“You poor dear. You’re so cold. Here, have another sip.” She says cloyingly as she attempts to push the flask into my hands.

I utter a brief response amidst my tears. “I’ll be alright. Thanks.”

“Alright dear.” She sets down the flask and lifts up a blanket. “Here. We’ll wrap you in this then. So you don’t catch a cold.”

I stand up and she wraps the blanket around my body. She doesn’t let go. Her arms curl tightly around me. She presses her cheek against mine.

“Please let go.”

“Oh now, don’t say that. We’re only just getting to know each other.”

I struggle against her embrace. “Let go!”

She chuckles and tightens her grip.

I start struggling more frantically as she restrains me. But I can feel my movements becoming more sluggish. I hear her cackle through my screams.

The door slams open but I can hardly react to see who it is before I’m thrown onto the bed.

I can hear a struggle. I try to roll over and see who stopped the witch, but I can barely move now.

I feel cold, rough hands lift me into their arms and carry me back out into the rain. But for some reason I am not afraid. Before my vision goes completely dark I try to look at my rescuer’s face. He has white hair, but his skin is olive green and leathery.

The last thing I hear before I lose consciousness is a woman screeching: “I’ll kill you alligator man! Just like I would any four-legged gator! You hear me? I’ll kill you!”

In the morning, I am told that Dr. Han wishes to see me and I’m escorted to his laboratory in the swamp.

As I enter the building, a shapely brunette leading two cloaked figures approaches me.

“You’re Mrs. Choi?”

“Yes,” I responded, watching the two figures as they walk away. They’re completely concealed. Even their hands and faces. “Dr. Han is expecting me.”

“Please follow me. You may wait in his office.”

From his office I can see Dr. Han overseeing several men carry a gator from a gurney onto a table underneath a large, strange apparatus. They strap the gator down as Dr. Han turns to leave.

I watch silently as he enters the office and begins to operate the apparatus. A high-pitched noise fills the room as Dr. Han stares at his watch.

After a few seconds, the sound is stopped and Dr. Han speaks through a comm.

“Take him out. Put him in a cage alone. We’ll run the test series on him in an hour. And bring in another specimen.”

He turns to me before speaking again.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Choi, for the wait. This experiment is very urgent.” He pauses for a moment to adjust his tie. “Remarkable creatures aren’t they?” He gestures to the alligator being carried away from the table.

“I suppose.”

“I’ve been conducting experiments for years, exploring the possibility of accelerating the healing process of humans using extracts from these creatures. And about two years ago, I thought I’d found the answer. I conducted an experimental treatment on those who had been badly mangled in accidents. The results were miraculous. Bones, tendons, muscles, even nerves and skin mended completely in a matter of weeks.”

“That’s very interesting, doctor, but what does that have to do with my husband?”

“I’m afraid it has everything to do with your husband. I’m sure you’re aware of the plane crash that nearly killed him?”

I slowly nod.

“Your husband was the worst of the lot. He was on the brink of death. Completely broken. And horribly disfigured.”

I vaguely remembered telling my husband before he vanished that he hardly looked like he’d been in a crash at all.

“Sadly, several months after his recovery I became aware of some unintended effects-“

The brunette assistant entered the room.

“Doctor, come quickly. It’s #6 again.”

“I see. Mrs. Choi please follow me.”

As I followed the pair down the hallway I could hear growls. Upon entering the room I see a snarling man on a bed, writhing underneath the grip of three men. The left half of his face is covered with green leathery scales.

Dr. Han performed a brief examination.

“Another sedative, doctor?”

“No. It seems the brain tissue has been affected. Use the ice pack and monitor him.”

The assistant left the room and returned with a large heavy blanket which was draped over the struggling man. Shortly after, his muscles relaxed and he became calm.

“Who is this?” I asked.

“One of my patients.”

“Then this is…” Horror crept into my heart.

“The aftereffects.”

“I don’t understand- how-“ My voice trembled.

“I do not know. I have been trying to find out for the past several months.”

“And the ice blanket?”

“Reptiles cannot internally regulate their temperature, so cold has a depressant effect on them.”

“Reptiles? But these aren’t-“

And then I understood. Or rather I was forced to accept it. As much as I didn’t want to. Dr. Jumin Han’s patients were turning into alligators as a result of his treatment. And my husband was one of those patients.

I should’ve been distraught. Or maybe angry. But all I could think of was how Saeran felt he needed to carry this burden himself. I couldn’t imagine how scared and alone he had been these past several months. I needed to see him.

As the doctor walked me out I asked him whether there was any hope of reversing these effects.

“There is a slight chance. But my testing is far from complete. Against my advice, your husband insists upon taking that chance tonight. The risk is extremely great, Mrs. Choi. This treatment could worsen his condition or kill him.”

“I will talk to him.”

“Please do.”

As night fell, I waited for Saeran to arrive at the doctor’s office.

When he saw me he once again tried to conceal his face and flee. I grasped his arm.

“Saeran! Please don’t run away! Not again. Dr. Han explained everything. Including why you’re here tonight.” I tugged at his arm, trying to get him to face me. “Please, Saeran. It doesn’t make any difference. I’m your wife and I love you.”

Saeran still wouldn’t look at me. “You know about tonight?”

“Yes. Please don’t do this, Saeran. The risk is too great. Please just wait. Wait for Dr. Han to complete the tests. Please I can’t lose you. Not again.”

“I’m sorry, darling. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to see me like this.” His voice was gravelly but choked with emotion. “I’d rather have died.”

“Please don’t say that, Saeran. I love you. No matter what. You know that, right?”

“…yes.”

“Then please trust me. I’ve been so worried about you. I’ve missed you so much. Look at me please.”

Saeran turned to face me at last. Revealing his crocodilian face. His eyes shone with tears.

I cradled his face in my palms.

“I love you. And I don’t want to lose you. Even if it means being married to an alligator man. Please don’t do this.”

He muttered my name in a half-sob and I embraced him. He felt so cold to the touch. And his soft skin was replaced with scales. But none of it mattered. He was still Saeran, so he was perfect. He sank into my embrace as if he had existed for an eternity without being held. His hard hands clung desperately to my back. His ridged face buried itself in my neck.

“Are you sure?” His breath shuddered against my skin. “You can love an alligator man?”

“As long as the alligator man is my Saeran.”

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canvas-the-florist · 3 years

Text

Just a Little Flir-Tea

Ship(s): Romantic Moceit,

Warnings: food mention, misunderstandings, a lot of puns

Summary: Patton and Janus are enemies of the mindscape. Except, are they? Janus thinks so but could he be wrong? No… They must be enemies. Who else would tenderly make tea with him?

Word Count: 1.3k

Patton walked throughout the mind palace, humming a song without memory of the lyrics. In his hands he held a plate of chocolate chip cookies and passed by Janus who was sipping tea and sitting calmly at the table. Well, he looked calm but he was really seething. How did Patton have the right to be so serene and happy and cute while they were obviously about to fight about something?! Janus could swear that Patton didn’t understand rivalries at all, it was very frustrating.

Everything he did was absolutely infuriating. Patton would stare at him sometimes, and always seemed to “accidentally” become more clumsy. Janus would usually get back at him by responding to his puns without a reaction or pretend he was fine with it all. But something about Patton always riled him up and Janus couldn’t understand. Even with how Janus was treating him Patton would go out of his way to see him. What was his deal?

“Oh, hey Janus! Fancy seeing you here!” Patton greeted, tilting his head to the side as he smiled. Janus’s face grew hot… FROM RAGE thank you very much and he put down his cup of tea. “Well, I guess you’re always fancy with the hat and cape and all.”

Janus raised an eyebrow as Patton sat down next to him. “Wow Patton, what a delight to see you… in my personal space. That doesn’t bother me at all.”

“Oh, that’s good! I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.” Patton placed the cookies next to Janus’s cup of tea, which spilled off the table, almost hitting Janus’s leg. He jumped up with a whelp, summoning the rest of his six arms before regaining his composure and coughing to lose the exaggerated expression. The arms didn’t disappear, instead Janus wrapped himself in a very dramatic arm crossing that only he could pull off. Patton put a hand over his mouth, with concern? Was he laughing? Janus couldn’t really tell but felt embarrassed anyways. “You okay, Jan? I’m so sorry I didn’t tea that coming!”

Silence followed after the pun, with Janus staring blankly at Patton. Janus closed his eyes, the extra arms disappearing in a golden light before looking back at morality with an unenthusiastic expression. “That was a stretch, even for you.”

Patton got up, smoothing the wrinkles in his pants with a small laugh. He walked over to Janus who stepped back a little bit. “Yeah, my bad. I won’t get oolong face about it though. Seriously, are you okay kiddo? I can get a towel or something.”

Janus felt the human face of his face heat up again, possibly from the tea. Maybe it had gotten him after all? Patton furrowed his eyebrows, his head tilting to the side again. Janus looked away. Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned back. Patton didn’t have any malice in his face. They were rivals though, Janus felt really confused. They were supposed to be RIVALS. Not friends or anything. That’s how it was… Patton smiled and Janus’s shoulders relaxed. Wait no, he had to keep his guard up. It could be a trick or something!

“Let’s go to the kitchen okay, I’ll get you a different cup of herbal tea. You like the mint lemon one, right?” Janus was so confused that he just nodded.

“How did you know that?”

Patton blinked and thought for a moment, contemplating. He dropped his arm back to his side. “Why wouldn’t I notice that, Janus? You drink a cup every morning. You’ve been making it at the same time I start baking! Now, c’mon I wouldn’t want my favorite reptile to get a stain on your cool cape!”

That’s when it happened. Patton kissed Janus’s cheek and walked in the direction of the kitchen, after picking up the overturned tea cup. Janus felt like his brain was short circuiting. He blinked a few times in the now empty room. His hand hovered over his scales, imagining what just happened repeatedly in his head and then turned around to head into the kitchen after Patton. What happened to being rivals? Patton was humming the same song from earlier while washing the teacup in the sink so Janus could presumably use it again. He put the cup on the counter.

“Do you want to help make it? I don’t want to mess it up.” Patton gestured to the cabinet to the right of him. He didn’t mention the minute he was standing idly in the other room and Janus was almost grateful. Almost. Janus walked over and filled the kettle with water and started to heat it up. His head felt heavy as all the thoughts in his mind seemed to be wrong. From a kiss on the cheek? He should gain his composure. He’s deceit! The scary snake boy with a wonderful aesthetic! Janus needs to calm down. “Hey Janus, not that I don’t love your enthusiastic hisses to yourself, the water is boiling.”

Janus quickly lifted the kettle off the stove and hissed at Patton. “You didn’t think to mention that earlier?”

“Sorry! I just-”

“Patton why did you kiss me?” Janus asked, putting the kettle down. He looked back to Patton who seemed startled. Janus didn’t mean to bombard Patton with questions but he was really confused.

“Chai don’t know what you mean?” Patton clapped his hands. “Oh, earlier? Was I not supposed to do that? I’m sorry but we’ve been dating for a couple months now and I-”

“Stop with the puns- wait… dating?” Patton nodded. Janus thought back in his memory, thinking back to any moment he agreed to date his nemesis. It would’ve been. He suddenly remembered the start of the rivalry. Patton asked him to… go… out… “Oh.” OH.

“Janus?” He sunk down the floor hiding his face in his hands. “You okay, bud?”

Patton knelt down into a squat next to Janus, who mumbled into his gloves. “I think I… need to stew in my own emotions and regrets for a moment.”

“Don’t you mean… ‘brew’ in your own emotions?” When Janus didn’t respond, Patton sighed quietly and stood back up. “Okay, bud. I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. I’ll leave you to that.”

“Actually-” Janus grabbed Patton’s hand. When Patton looked at him, he blushed and looked away. Patton gave a soft smile that Janus didn’t see. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind some company to spend it with. If you want! I, uh, be-leaf that we have something to work out together. But for now… want to just be here for a moment?”

Patton slid down the counter, still holding Janus’s hand as he joined him on the floor of the kitchen. They didn’t talk for the first few minutes as Janus was mentally beating himself up over it. But eventually they started talking. Patton was more endeared than offended by the one sided rivalry. Janus even laughed a little as Patton described his side of the story. In the end, the tea was forgotten on the counter. Janus decided that a romantic partner would be nicer than a rival. Well, if the second kiss said anything about that.

Roman walked into the kitchen, looking behind him with more interest “Hey, Patton I noticed there were some cookies left on the table and I was wondering if I could have-” He saw Patton asleep on Janus’s shoulder. “OH MY I’M SORRY FOR WALKING IN ON ANYTHING BYE.” He walked out quickly, passing by Logan along the way.

“Why did you augment your volume-” Roman grabbed Logan’s arm and walked them out of the dining room. “Roman, Roman stop ignoring me what’s happening-”

Taglist: @theeeami @made-of-love-and-loneliness @yourfellowsmolgay

#moceit #sander sides fanfiction #janus sanders #patton sanders #romantic moceit #roman sanders #logan sanders #food mentioned #food tw #emile writes #fake shitpost

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elvendara · 3 years

Text

March Madness 2021

AKA Yooran Month

March 7th

Something I wrote for the Werewolf Choi Twins AU that happens after the ending of “The Pack”.

Saeran watched the clock and wiped his hands on his pants again. He was nervous. More nervous than he had ever been. He shouldn’t be, but what if…no…he wouldn’t think about that. Yoosung would be home soon and he had to look busy. Normal. Nothing out of the ordinary! Grabbing a random book from the shelf he sat on the sofa and opened it up. It took a few minutes before he realized it was upside down. Stupid! The clock was agonizingly slow!

When he heard the key in the door he began to tremble. Closing his eyes he employed a breathing technique to calm himself. By the time Yoosung entered the apartment, he was once more calm.

“Hey!” Yoosung called out cheerily. Saeran turned and smiled at his boyfriend. He looked tired, as always, but Saeran loved that Yoosung’s face still lit up when he saw him. It made him feel special.

“Hey!” he echoed. Yoosung’s grin widened as he dropped his bag on the floor by the door and kicked off his shoes. Saeran’s eyebrow lifted at the sight and Yoosung, with a sigh, bent over and placed the shoes neatly against the door with an exaggerated eye roll. Saeran berated himself, the last thing he wanted to do was start an argument, especially about shoes and neatness. They were just not on the same wavelength when it came to orderliness. Saeran liked things neat and tidy while Yoosung seemed to be followed by chaos wherever he went. Really it wasn’t so bad, and Saeran didn’t mind being the tidy one. Honestly, Yoosung had changed many of his habits to try and compromise with Saeran. Now, most of the chaos was contained in Yoosung’s side of the bedroom and the kitchen, which, was still very much Yoosung’s domain.

“Better?” Yoosung asked but he didn’t sound surly, just amused. Saeran breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sorry, I know it’s stupid…”

“Don’t say that, it’s not a big deal to set my shoes neatly on the mat. I’ll get it.” Yoosung laughed and sat on Saeran’s lap, displacing the book in his hands. Saeran set the book down and wrapped his arms around Yoosung.

“Well, why don’t I reward you for being so diligent.” Saeran teased.

“Reward? What kind of reward?” Yoosung’s eyebrows wiggled and he set his forehead against Saeran’s.

“Not that kind, at least not right now.” Saeran smirked and Yoosung pouted, pulling away and looking into Saeran’s mint green eyes. “I was thinking that since you have a day off tomorrow, we could order in and play some LOLOL.”

“Really?” Yoosung’s tiredness seemed to flee as he became animated and excited.

“Yes, really, why don’t you go boot up the laptops while I place the order.”

“OK.” Yoosung jumped up, as he made his way into the bedroom huridly, Saeran slapped him on the butt. “Hey!” Yoosung tossed over his shoulder but didn’t slow down at all.

Saeran smiled as he watched his boyfriend eagerly run into the bedroom. This was it. He held his breath and stood. Too late to back out now, even if he wanted to. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and hit the saved number. They ordered regularly from the Thai place down the street. As soon as he said his name the person on the other end asked if it was the usual, Saeran chuckled and said yes, but added a desert.

“Ah, romantic dinner yes?”

“Something like that.” Saeran said.

“OK OK, twenty minutes.”

“Thank you.” Saeran hung up and grabbed some PhD Pepper’s from the fridge. As he walked into the bedroom he saw that Yoosung had indeed booted up both their laptops, set up side by side. It was a little tight in the bedroom, he much preferred his own room at Saeyoung’s, but when Yoosung was with him, it felt more like a cozy comfort.

It was hard living away from the pack, but it was temporary, until Yoosung finished his clinicals and was able to find a permanent job. This was just closer and easier on Yoosung. They had had some complaints about the noise they created when they had sex, but Saeran didn’t think there was anything they could do about that. It was what it was and things often got a little crazy between them.

“What is that smile for?” Yoosung asked, eyes narrowing.

“Nothing, just…remembering the last complaint we had about the noise.” He laughed.

Yoosung blushed but didn’t comment, taking the offered can and opening it. Saeran leaned over him and kissed his exposed neck. It was one of Saeran’s favorite places to nibble on his boyfriend, whether he was in wolf form or human form. He was just so tasty!

“Stop! Don’t start something you aren’t prepared to finish!” Yoosung chastised.

“You’re right, this is about having some fun and destressing.” He plopped down on his own chair and opened the game watching it load. Yoosung sighed loudly but Saeran ignored him. “Food should be here in twenty.” He said instead.

“Fine. Where did you order from?” Yoosung’s fingers flew over the keyboard as his character appeared on his screen, already checking his guild to see if there were any worthwhile raids they could join.

“Thai Orchadee, the usual.” Saeran said.

“Great! I love that place, did you get me some Thai tea?” Yoosung asked.

“Of course I did. Do I know my man or do I know my man?” he smirked.

“You do indeed!” Yoosung lunged at him and planted a sugary kiss on his lips. He was intoxicating, suddenly he could feel the animal part of him respond biologically, his cock getting hard, his mouth salivating, his nails growing into claws eager to leave their marks on Yoosung’s skin. He calmed himself, using the same breathing exercises. Thankfully Yoosung was back to staring at his screen.

When Saeran’s character loaded he checked his inventory, though nothing had changed from the last time they’d played, it was just something to keep his hands busy. He organized and reorganized his inventory, opening all his bags and checking the bags on his mount as well. He wanted to go into the house he and Yoosung had bought together, pooling their money to be able to afford it, but he couldn’t, not yet.

“Looks like there’s a couple of raids going on tonight, I think we should join the Apocalypse raid. It’ll take most of the night, but the gear is worth it. Plus, there’s a chance of getting a rare decoration for the house. What do you think?” Yoosung asked.

“Sounds good.” Saeran answered absently. “Uh, when does it start?” he was nervous it would start too soon, and he would have to wait until after it was over to do what he wanted to do.

“Not for another hour and a half looks like, but that’s not enough time to do anything else, maybe we can just do some dungeons until then?”

“Yeah, we can do that, but uh, let’s wait for the food first, I’m kinda hungry.”

“Kinda? You’re always ravenous!” Yoosung poked Saeran’s belly, though no matter how much he ate, it was still as hard as a rock. Yoosung sometimes pouted at how easy it was for Saeran to stay fit. He couldn’t help it, his werewolf metabolism always worked overdrive no matter how sedentary he happened to be. His stomach decided to growl just to prove the point.

Yoosung rolled his eyes and laughed. They spent the time waiting for their food trying on different outfits and changing their character’s hairstyles and colors.

“I like that one!” Yoosung said as Saeran played around with his eyes and hair colors. Sure enough Yoosung always preferred red hair and mint green eyes on his character, go figure. Saeran grinned but kept the colors. He’d tried changing, but Yoosung always frowned when he saw his character.

“I’ll get it.” Yoosung jumped out of his chair when the doorbell rang, he was back with their food in no time. Having set it down, he went back into the kitchen for more drinks, Saeran already had the plates out when he came back.

“Smells amazing.” He said.

“It sure does.” Yoosung agreed.

As they ate, Saeran asked Yoosung about his day. There was always something humerous that happened, and when he talked about the dogs Yoosung would go all starry eyed. Saeran had often thought about getting a dog, but he wasn’t sure how it would behave around werewolves, not to mention a werecat. He made a mental note to ask MC how she would feel with a dog in the house. Either way, Yoosung was too busy to really enjoy a dog at the moment, besides, he had him if he ever wanted a warm cuddle.

“You know, I forgot to tell you, I bought some new things for the house. Want to redecorate while we wait?” Saeran asked when they finished their dinner.

“Really? That’s great, oh, did you get that loft? I’d love to add another story to the house.”

“No, nothing that big, just some new decorations, mostly for the walls.”

“OK.” Yoosung took both their plates and tossed them into the garbage in the kitchen. When he returned they both teleported to the front of their house and entered. It was very cozy, they had bought a fireplace and had a deep red rug in front of it. The furniture was made out of wood and looked comfortable to sit on. There was of course bookcases lining most of the walls, Saeran’s idea, he liked how they looked.

“Why don’t you take down the items over the fireplace, I want to put the new ones on that wall.”

“Will do.” Yoosung obeyed immediately and Saern’s fingers hovered over his keys, this was it. “Uh, what are you waiting for?” Yoosung urged after several seconds.

“Right.” Saeran took a deep breath and began to toggle the items onto the wall in a semi-circle. It hadn’t been easy to get the items into the game and he’d had to ask Saeyoung for help. Only because he wanted it done fast.

Yoosung’s eager smile slipped from his face as he watched on his own screen what was popping into view as Saeran hung the décor. He blinked…his mouth fell open…then tears sprang to his eyes. The words took his breath away, from left to right, in a semi-circle above the fireplace Saeran had placed round wooden plaques, each with a single word on it. Will…You…Marry…Me…Yoosung. His heart trembled, his hands fluttering to his breast, covering his heart and the tears fell. He slowly turned towards Saeran, who was sliding off the chair and kneeling on the floor in front of him with an open ring box that held two titanium rings.

“I know you’ve already become my mate, with all that it entails. I hope you’ll say yes to becoming my husband and marrying me, making me happier than I have any right to be.”

“Say yes!” “Yeah!” “Woot woot!” a cacophony of whistles and hoots and encouragement sprang from Saeran’s headset and he grinned to see the astonished look on Yoosung’s face.

“I thought you’d want your friends and family share this moment.”

“F…family?” Yoosung stuttered.

“We’re here too Yoosung, me and your father.” His mother’s voice rang through the speakers as Saeran unplugged his headphones.

“Me too little brother! You’re crying right now, aren’t you?” His sister Yasmine laughed. More laughter rolled through the air as Yoosung gulped.

“Say yes already! I’m ready to pop the champaign!” Saeyoung chuckled, MC’s laughter ringing through the speakers as well.

“I…Oh my God! I…YES! Yes!” His emotions were thrumming through his body. He felt he might pass out with the intensity of it. It wasn’t that it was such a surprise, of course this is where their relationship was headed. It was how thoughtful and incredibly well Saeran had planned this to hit just the right note of sincerity and romance.

There was a jubilation streaming through the internet that didn’t even come close to matching what he was feeling inside. Saeran’s smile split his face and he looked happier than Yoosung had ever seen him before. He rose to his feet and pulled Yoosung up from his chair. Setting the ring box on the desk he pulled out one ring and caressed Yoosung’s arm, sliding his fingers down to his hand and placing the ring on his finger with such reverence it pierced Yoosung’s heart with such love it might explode.

“I love you.” He whispered.

A symphony of “Aww’s” and crying filtered through the internet, bathing them in soft comfort and familial warmth. Yoosung blushed but kept his mentality enough to place the other ring on Saeran’s finger, caressing his hand and feeling the importance of this moment.

“I love you too.” He gazed into his boyfriends…fiance’s…eyes, then moved slowly to press his lips against Saeran’s, sealing their promise.

“Hey, anyone else wondering about the whole “mate” thing?” someone from their guild asked.

#my posts #Yooran #werewolf choi twins au #Yoosung Kim #Saeran Choi #mysme #mystic messenger #march madness 2021 #march 7th #yooran month

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macchiatooru · 4 years

Text

ᴬⁿ ᵃˡˡ⁻ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ³ʳᵈ ᵍʸᵐ ˢqᵘᵃᵈ?

With Kenma? And Lev and Hinata? Absolute College AU vibes? Despite my doubts about the productivity, I definitely need this. It’s around 1AM as I type, and I literally have three papers to finish, with one due tomorrow. HAHAHAHAHA. (I wrote this note last night, so it’s not entirely applicable now, but well- I have to submit the second tomorrow and the third the following day... I hope HAHAHA)

Note: If you’re also up at such ungodly hours and want to add to this when you’re stuck with a paper too, or a lesson, or something, go ahead! If you want to modify something, don’t hesitate to say it!

The situation, for example, is that you’re writing a paper, and you don’t know how to continue it anymore. Luckily, you have enough options to kill the time until your brain is working properly again. The apartment―whoever owns it, maybe you guys were sharing or had connecting ones or were neighbors or whatnot―would literally look like, I don’t know, a convention? It’s like there are different stalls with different activities. Take your pick!

Tsukishima’s Corner:

I can imagine that he has this set-up in the far end of the living room where he has a table against the wall and a chair with a blanket on it

And he always has a drink with him, whether it’s a soda or an Iced Americano. (that just gave me Yoongi vibes ahhh my heart)

Of course, he has his headphones on. Not surprising.

He’s pretty calm when he does his schoolwork, and his focus is just wow

So, don’t expect him to pay attention to you that much. Again, not surprising.

If you have an actual question though, I think you can ask him!

He’ll help you out, but be wary of the sass and teasing.

It’s highly possible for him to annoy the shit out of you before you guys solve the problem, btw.

If you have chips with you, he’ll take some without asking permission smh but he’s so idufhsdbkfhda can you really say no?

You can get back at him by repetitively calling him “Tsukki”.

��Cut it out.”

“No can do, Tsu~ Kki!”

Emphasize! the! syllables! because he probably lowkey thinks it’s kinda cute

Unless he doesn’t and he throws the blanket at your face to shut you up

Don’t annoy him when he’s in a bad mood, okay?

He’ll really appreciate it if you give him space on those days

But he’ll also appreciate it so so so much if you’re the one who hands him his usual drink.

Despite being the person who could really rile you up the most

He’s actually nice... in his own way!

Lev and Hinata’s “Quiet” Pile of Pillows:

What am I even saying?

There’s nothing quiet about that part of the living room.

Lev and Hinata like studying in their “own kind of comfort”

And that is with their “study” blankets―they have separate ones for sleeping―on the floor and their pillows on top.

They study with the TV on

A series on Netflix is playing the entire time.

Nobody minds, really, because for some reason, most of you can study with some noise in the background. Those who can’t, however, just listen to music on their own.

They have hot or iced chocolate―depends on their mood―made either by you, Akaashi, or Kuroo.

You never asked Bokuto to do it again. Never again.

One time, he made the mistake of giving the “kids” coffee, and well, was that some night.

Lev and Hinata have common classes, so they work on some of their assignments together.

Expect them to be very excited when they get something right and very frustrated when they can’t understand what they’re doing.

Probably just a spot for you to take a quick break, maybe lie your head down on Lev’s favorite pillow to annoy him.

It’s not because he doesn’t want to share, but because you just took it right out of his lap.

They’ll be really happy kiddos if you join them! Please give these babies the attention they need.

Also, it helps to give them snacks to shut them up.

Bokuto’s Spot on the Couch:

That became his permanent spot after Akaashi sent him there because of that one time that big baby reaaally got on his nerves.

He has a pillow supporting his back as he leans against an armrest, legs stretched out in front of him and laptop on his, well, lap. HAHAHA sorry

He also likes working with the TV on, so it was a suitable place for him.

Bokuto’s drink would either be a can of soda or a protein shake.

Keep your phone on standby.

You have to take a pic of the pouty face he makes when he doesn’t get something.

He’s so cute he can have my heart-

“Akaashiiiii~ Why won’t you help me out?”

Akaashi would remind him that not only was he a year higher, but he also had a different major.

*cue Bo’s emo mode with matching droopy hair fml he’s literally so cute*

He gets distracted easily because he never puts his phone on silent

Probably chats with Konoha idk

Or gets carried away watching game highlights.

He already startled all of you a few times.

“OOOOOOOOOOOH. DAAAAAAAAAAAMN. THAT WAS SO GOOD.”

“Bokuto-san-”

If you choose to go to him, he can’t really help you with the paper you’re writing.

However, he gives THE BESTEST HUGS!

I think a lot of us agree that he’s a walking heater, so getting a hug from that beefy boi? Especially when it’s cold?

H E A V E N

Or that’s just me being biased, but is it really just me?

I love him.

Kuroo’s Kitchen Kounter:

Now, I’m definitely sure I’m being biased because- I mean- JUST-

One of the kitchen counters faces the common living area where everyone is spread out.

Imagine walking from wherever you were previously just staring at your laptop with that constant 132 words plastered on the corner of the screen and you’re well-aware that it has to be 2000 by tomorrow

And seeing business-related major Kuroo, sitting on a stool, immersed in his work, Excel sheets and documents being the only inhabitants of his laptop screen?

I’m literally giving myself away I-

He has glasses on and he’s tapping the end of his pen on his chin and at this point I’m hyperventilating

THE FACE HE MAKES WHEN HE CONCENTRATES

From time to time, he would swivel the stool around, take a sip of the black iced coffee he always brews at night, and eat whatever snack was available (e.g. chips, popcorn, sandwiches, instant noodles, sometimes asks Bokuto to make another protein shake, etc.)

He doesn’t really listen to music and can easily drown out the noise on his own because he concentrates so much.

You can always count on him to entertain you

Because despite the amount of focus he puts into his homework and problem sets, he also wants any excuse to tear his eyes of his screen.

He’s good at papers, so he can help you with that in the best way he can

Also asks if you would like to take a break and grab a snack with him

And can be a flirt if he’s in the mood, but when he’s tired, he has a soft and sleepy smile (except he’s not really sleepy because of the coffee, he’s just not putting that much effort)

Although he will annoy and provoke you while the two of you are on break

He’s the best person to cry to when you’re really stressed out.

I want him.

Akaashi’s Atelier:

He literally owns the dining table, his work neatly spread out.

I can almost imagine him studying architecture

But nah I guess he just really likes practicing how to capture anything and everything he can observe

And by capturing, I really mean that there’s a pile of photos there somewhere.

Afterwards, he draws them, paying attention to every detail.

He finishes schoolwork before any of you do.

His concentration surpasses that of Kuroo’s, no joke.

You can’t disturb him when he’s working on his academic requirements, so come back later when he’s sketching the hours away.

If you want to do your paper beside him though? Go.

His concentration is not only top tier but also contagious.

He’ll share the dining table, but only to you and, occasionally, Kuroo.

Bokuto? Only if he’s super emo.

Akaashi’s really nice!

He’ll initiate a conversation with you if you’re taking a break and he’s just on his sketchbook or experimenting with graphic design or something.

If you want to see a passionate but shy Akaashi, ask him what he’s working on.

I just know his eyes will literally light up.

He might be drinking tea, mint tea?

Water most of the time, but he always smells like mint and fresh laundry ahhh be still, my heart

Go to him if you really want to be productive and not get distracted by anything else because his eyes and the way he’s so into what he’s doing might actually be what distracts you

He is the epitome of grace under pressure, such a beautiful human being ha ha ha I wish

Kenma’s Den:

Well, what did you really expect?

Nah, kidding.

Kenma’s the only one in his room because he’s probably streaming.

His audience is mostly up at night, so yeah.

He definitely has ramen, chips, and soda

Which he’s willing to share with you as long as you don’t mess his game up don’t try I swear

Tbh, it’s actually really comforting to stay in his room especially when you’re really stressed out.

You can rest your eyes and take a quick nap.

He knows that he should wake you up after fifteen minutes, so don’t worry about sleeping through the night without finishing your paper.

He’s so sweet please

It’s so comforting to hear his fingers tapping away, a literal lullaby that gets you every time.

At some point, some people probably caught you slipping under his duvet IT WAS YOUR FIRST LOWKEY SCANDAL HAHAHAHAHA

Which lasted for just an hour because Kenma’s viewers knew him enough to know what his facial expressions meant

He definitely can’t help you with your paper. Such a busy boi.

But if he’s in the lobby that’s what you call it, right? of whatever game he’s playing, he’s willing to listen to your rants.

A quiet listener, but you know that he genuinely cares about you.

Massage his shoulders if you can! He likes that.

───── ･｡ﾟ☆: *. ☪ .* :☆ﾟ. ─────

background photo by NeONBRAND on unsplash

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #third gym squad #tsukishima kei #lev haiba #hinata shoyo #bokuto koutarou #kuroo tetsurou #akaashi keiji #kozume kenma #elle's random rambles #elle isn't sleeping again #I WANT THEM TO BE REAL

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leafs-lover · 3 years

Text

Because Two People Got Drunk: 28

Series Masterlist

Chapter 28

A/N: So sorry about the delay! I don’t know anything about preeclampsia, I did some research but I tried to not get too hung up on the details.

Summary: You and Fred have some hiccups as your due date approaches.

Warnings: Swearing, cheating, angst, mentions of drinking Word Count: 6500

“Morning” you sing walking into Oliver’s room. You open the Penguin’s curtains allowing sunlight to fill the room.

Fred is on the road having played Philly last night for round one of the playoffs. It was game 6, and the Penguins won securing the path to the second round. After losing games 4 and 5, games the media ripped apart Fred’s performance. They were up in game 4 going into the third period, but a fluke goal with a bad bounce gave the Flyers momentum and they ended up making a comeback. They should have won game 5, but the team just didn’t show up only getting 15 shots but letting 40 at Fred. The media blamed Fred for both loses, and you know it bothered him even if he doesn’t bring it up to you.

Game 6 was a super close game, and Oliver was too excited to sleep; you ended up watching the entire game and overtime, he didn’t fall asleep until after midnight. You let him sleep in until 9 but decided to wake him up so his entire sleep schedule isn’t messed up, even if it means a cranky two year old.

You watch his heavy eyes slowly close while he struggles to stay awake. You walk over and sit down beside him on his bed. You brush the red curls from his forehead and place a soft kiss there “time to wake up sweetie” you say softly. You hear him whine softly and roll onto his side trying to fall back asleep.

You laugh lightly and pull the blankets off of him and he groans “no mommy.”

“I made you breakfast” you say poking his side tickling him. Your toddler’s weakest point is how ticklish he is, which has helped you turn around a lot of potential meltdowns. He laughs slightly squirming to get away but you keep tickling him while his laughing becomes louder.

“You going to get up now?” you ask while your son continues to laugh. Through his breaths he squeals “yes” and you finally stop.

After the bathroom and helping him get dressed you head downstairs with Oliver, you help him into his seat at the table. You place his breakfast and orange juice in front of him and sit beside him drinking a tea, having eaten earlier while he slept. You pull your phone out and start scrolling through Instagram while Oliver rambles about Fred coming home today.

“Yeah he should be home soon” you respond smiling at your son who lights up at your words.

“Daddy played good” he says putting a piece of French toast in his mouth.

“He sure did, he was very good.”

“When he play next?” he asks scooping some food into his mouth.

“I’m not sure, not until the other teams are done. So he will be home for a few days” you say taking a sip of your tea when you hear a ding on your phone.

Oliver returns to his breakfast and you click on the button to see a message from someone you aren’t friends with, you scan over the message reading it a few times when you hear Fred’s shoes on the hardwood as he walks down the hall. You lock your phone and set it down on the table.

“Daddy” Oliver squeals running down the hall jumping into his arms. Fred chuckles and picks him up, holding him tight for a long hug while he slowly walks into the kitchen.

“Hey Ollie I missed you” he says kissing his cheek.

“Missed you too daddy” he says with his arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

“I heard you stayed up late watching the whole game” Fred says setting him back down at the table and he places a soft kiss on your forehead. You can smell the whiskey and beer from last night that is lightly disguised by his mint toothpaste. You know the team went out after the game for dinner and some of them were going for drinks at a bar after. Based on the whiskey smell and bags under his eyes it’s obvious Fred joined them.

“Yeah I watched the game with mommy. You had so many saves daddy” your son coos from his spot at the table.

Fred smiles rubbing his hair and sits down beside you, chatting with Oliver who shares his excitement over the win and moving on the second round. You sit there quietly drinking your tea half smiling while Oliver rambles on. After eating Oliver jumps down and walks over to his toy room leaving you and Fred alone at the table while you tap your fingers against your empty mug.

“I missed these boys too” he says rubbing your stomach “and I missed you too skat.” He leans in to kiss your cheek, you smile lightly at the contact but turn away slightly, causing a scowl to reach Fred’s face. “Smuk what’s wrong?” he gently brushes your hair behind your ear to further expose your face to him.

“Nothing” you mumble, pushing your chair back. You try to stand up and gather the dishes but Fred grips your wrist pulling you back into your seat.

“Kære it’s been over 3 years. I know when something is wrong and I know when you are lying. So save both of us time and just tell me what’s wrong” he groans.

You take a deep breath rolling your eyes; sometimes you wish Fred couldn’t read you like a book. You mindlessly play with your phone, flipping it upside down in your hand.

“Please babe” Fred says. You slide your finger over the sensor on the back unlocking the device, the Instagram messages displayed on the screen. You silently slide the phone across the table to him, your right hand rest on your stomach while Fred releases your other wrist and picks up your phone reading the messages.

He scans the messages a few times; when you hear a loud noise from the play area. You stand up and walk over to Oliver’s play area, you see a bunch of his blocks scattered around on the floor “my tower fell” he laughs upon seeing you. You chuckle lightly and he starts to rebuild his tower while you sit on the nearby loveseat watching your son. You feel the weight shift as Fred sits down beside you, spinning your phone in his hand.

“This isn’t true smuk” he says lightly watching Oliver play with his toys.

“I would have believed you, if it wasn’t for the pictures” you whisper, your voice catching in your throat.

The messages are from a woman in Philly who was out with some friends and recognized some of the players at the bar. She sent you a couple different pictures and explained that she used to date a Philly player for a couple months until she found out he was cheating on her all the time during road trips and she “thought you would want to know.” She explained that the guys were getting pretty cozy with a group of women at the bar and she saw Fred leave with one of them.

The first picture she sent was taken from behind the group. Fred and a couple players are standing at the bar with a few women all of whom are gorgeous. He is leaning in close to talk to a blonde his arm draped over her shoulder; her hand resting on his lower back while she is tucked in close under his arm. The second is the guys sitting at the table, Fred is in the background but the same blonde is sitting beside Fred, you can tell because of the pink sequined shirt is the same as the first. They are sitting extremely close together, laughing at something.

These two pictures seem to be relatively innocent, and nothing that is overly concerning to you; women are always approaching players out in public and it’s not the first time someone has sent you pictures similar to this. You have learned to ignore these types of messages, because you trust Fred and know these types of women are mostly looking for attention and have no truth.

If it was just these two pictures you would delete these messages not bothering to tell Fred. But the next picture has this woman sitting on his lap; Fred’s hand is laced in the women’s hair, holding her face inches from his. There is a large smile on his face while she is looking down towards his lips. The worst part is that smile has been reserved for you for the past 3 years; it’s the way he looks towards you.

“I’m not an idiot, I know what happened next” you scoff wiping the tear from your eye. You push off the seat, your stomach at 31 weeks making it difficult to get up.

“(Y/N)” Fred whispers helping you stand up, his hands on your hips helping to steady you. You walk away to the kitchen leaving Fred standing alone.

“Baby” he calls out walking over to you.

“Oh don’t you dare… don’t you baby me” you scoff your tone rising. “You don’t get to fuck another woman and then come at me with baby.”

You open the cupboard and reach up for a cup, but your bump makes it hard for you to reach to the second shelf. You feel Fred step up behind you placing a hand on your lower back as he reaches around you for a glass. Normally you would feel his touch from your core to your toes, it would make you weak. Make you want to hop up on the counter while Fred grips your hips pulling your entrance closer to his hard member. But today, in this moment, you want him to be as far away from you to never touch you again. Fred walks over to the fridge, pulling out your favourite juice and pouring some and handing it back to you.

“I didn’t fuck her” he says back to you, you shake your head and take a sip.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” you ask him rolling your eyes. “Even if she didn’t say you left with her it doesn’t take a genius to figure of what happened next.”

“I swear I didn’t fuck her, I didn’t do anything with her. I know how this looks and -”

“It looks like you are two seconds away from making out with that girl” you bark at him “and a half hour away from pressing her up against the wall in your hotel room.” You feel tears welling in your eyes and slowly start to fall down your cheeks. “Your girlfriend is pregnant and huge, she is too sore for sex or really anything at this point so it makes sense that you find someone else. I just wonder how long this has been happening, how many other girls there have been”

Fred’s large hands come to your face; he gently cups your cheeks while using a thumb to wipe your tears away but they keep falling down your cheek. You look up at him seeing his brown eyes are glazed over, waiting for the tears to fall. “First of all I love seeing you pregnant you know that” a hand slides over your stomach gently rubbing you “Lastly and most important babe, I didn’t sleep with her or anyone else. I love you. I want you, only you” he whispers. You are sure if he were to try and use his full voice it would crack and his tears would fall along with yours.

You feel the sincerity in his voice and you step closer to him, wrapping your hands around his back while you grip his tee. Your face falls into his chest, his hands gently stroking your back. “Promise?” you sob against him.

“I swear I didn’t sleep with her” he pulls you in tight to his chest; you stand there for a few minutes holding each other. You can hear Oliver in the toy room, talking with some of his action figures. You can hear Fred’s constant beating of his heart. Your breathing begins to steady, your sobs slow. You think he is telling the truth, while the picture does look somewhat compromising; a picture without context can be misleading.

“Then what is happening in the picture Fred? I want to trust you but what would you think if this was reversed” you sigh against him pulling back. You see the wet spot where your tears have stained his shirt. You tilt your head up and look at Fred, his hands slide to your hair and he looks down at you.

You meet his gaze, staring into his golden brown eyes. While Fred can read you, you also can read him. Looking into his eyes you see him looking past you, trying to keep you slightly at bay. Instead of feeling his authenticity, you sense he is holding something back from you. You blink back the few remaining tears as your eyes have dried, feeling Fred take a gulp.

“I didn’t sleep with her” he repeats “but…” he trails off taking a deep breath. “But I did kiss her” he practically whispers that statement, you aren’t even sure he spoke those words they were so quiet.

Silence falls in the room; you can hear your clock ticking on the wall while you process what he said to you. Seconds turn to minutes while you feel your body go numb. Fred continues to gently stroke your back waiting for you to respond. Your chest tightens while your breathing increases, you can feel your heart pounding in your head. You bring your hands to Fred’s chest and push him away from you.

“WHAT?!” you say in disbelief. You try to be firm but your voice quivers “you kissed her, you kissed another woman?!”

“Yeah I did, but you need to stay calm. It’s not good for your blood pressure” he replies.

“You just told me you kissed another woman and now you want me to be calm! You can’t be serious Frederik” you yell at him throwing his arms off of you. You take a few steps to stand on the other side of the island, crossing your arms around your chest. Tears build in your eyes, and fall down your cheeks, your body shakes as you begin to sob. You start to feel uneasy on your feet, anger coursing through your veins. You reach down and grip the side of the counter steadying yourself taking a few deep breaths. You feel your knees getting weak, legs trembling under you.

“(Y/N)” he says walking towards you.

“Stop” you whisper “Do. Not. Come. Closer.” You take a deep breath, your vision blurred with your tears.

“Okay, okay” he whispers “I won’t come any closer, but can you please sit down…for the babies. I don’t want you to fall” You can’t see him through your tears but you can hear the pain in his voice. You move a few feet, falling into the stool at the island, your hands shaking.

“How could…” you stutter out. “How could you? How could you do this to me? To us? To Oliver?” Silence falls over the room while you cry into your hands.

“I don’t have a reason, or an explanation. Nothing…I’m just an idiot and I fucked up. I…I” he trails off, his voice cracking. You can hear the disappointment in his voice “I am so sorry” he whispers. His voice is closer; he is now sitting on a stool beside you.

You both sit in silence you can hear Oliver playing in his playroom, you hear some of his toys hitting the floor while he babbles to himself. You sniffle using the sleeve of your shirt to wipe your eyes, focusing on your breathing.

“Fred I am 31 weeks pregnant with twins, our second and third babies. What were you thinking?” you ask turning your head to look at him for the first time in minutes. You can see the pain and disappointment on his face, while he looks down at his hands that are resting on the counter. You reach out and grip your glass, but your hands are trembling too much for you to bring it to your lips.

“I wasn’t” he whispers.

“No, that isn’t a reason for this. There is a reason why you did this and I want to know” you say firmly.

His gaze doesn’t change as he brings a hand up to wipe the side of his eye brushing away some tears. He takes a deep breath and another before finally bringing his eyes up to yours.

“All this” he motions around the room “you, Ollie, the babies. I love all this so much, but it’s been a little stressful.”

You lightly scoff at his comment while he ignores it and keeps talking. “With the struggles you have been having, blood pressure, stress and discomfort I try to take some of the burden to ease things for you. And that’s my job to do what I can to help you. I can’t be pregnant so I try and make everything you experience manageable. We have the cleaning lady, massages and Christie; but it’s not enough I feel like I need to be doing more. And then there is the stress of my job, I feel like I can’t talk to you about it without feeling bad because you are dealing with so much more right now. The guys were all just having a good time drinking, celebrating the win when this group of women came over and it was just a causal conversation. It was nice to have someone to talk to, to help me forget about things even if for only a minute.”

You stare at him listening to his words, and it’s all true. Not that it is an excuse or justification for what he did, but you know he has been under pressure. You haven’t made it to many games because a couple weeks ago your doctor told you that you needed to relax more and watch your stress levels. She told you that your blood pressure was high still, but your platelet counts were a little low. She didn’t want to declare it was preeclampsia, but with that diagnosis Fred was worried. He hasn’t wanted you at any games. He wants you to be as comfortable as possible at all time, somethings he knows isn’t really possible at games. It’s also something Oliver has voiced his displeasure in, which has increased your guilt and stress over the situation.

“You have been so sore recently too that I can barely look at you let alone touch you.”

“So because my body is in too much pain from growing two tiny humans, two tiny humans that you wanted and helped make, you can seek attention from someone else” you retort.

“No definitely not. It’s just…” he trails off. He shifts to turn towards, his eyes are bloodshot from crying “it was nice to touch someone and not have my hands be pushed off, to have someone want me.”

“Fred…I am sorry I made you feel that way. This pregnancy has been full of challenges and completely different from my last one. I always want you, do you have any idea how hard it has been to want you every time I see but my body doesn’t agree. To be dripping wet for you every day, and not be able to do anything because I can’t handle it…” you say as a ball begins to build in your throat.

Fred grabs your hands in his “we kissed at the bar, only one time. I knew it was wrong, it felt so wrong so I stopped and left the bar right after. I text you when I got back to the hotel to see if you were awake, I just wanted to hear your voice so bad but you were asleep and didn’t answer.”

“Why did this girl say she saw you leave together? The girl who messaged me isn’t the girl in the pictures; so what would she gain by lying?” you ask him.

“Well after I pulled away, I said I had to go to the bathroom but I went to the bar and paid my tab and got my coat from coat check. I didn’t even bother ordering an uber until I got outside, I just had to get away. She saw me leave and came out not too long after, trying to get me to bring her back to the hotel. I had to practically push her out of the car, she was pretty insistent. But I swear I left her standing on the sidewalk. I wish so badly I didn’t do it, that I could go back in time. I am so sorry (Y/N/N)” he says to you.

“It doesn’t matter though Fred, we’re supposed to be a team. I’m supposed to be the person you talk to about this, the person who helps you escape the stress” you say as tears begin to fall again. Fred’s hand comes up and gently wipes your tears, him looking into your eyes.

“I am so sorry (Y/N” he says bringing his lips to your forehead. You stay like that for a minute, Fred continues to whisper he is sorry while his lips are hovering in front of your forehead. His warm breath and calloused fingers on your cheek begin to soothe you, his presence always brings you back down.

“I love you so much” he whispers tilting your head and placing a soft but hesitant kiss on your lips, his thumbs gently stroking your cheek. You melt into his touch, your hands come up and gently grip his biceps while his mouth opens, allowing you further access. He is slow and cautious with his movements, treading lightly trying to gauge your limitations.

He grips your face firmer, bringing you closer for a passionate kiss when you push him off you. “No Freddie you don’t get to kiss me and make it all better. You don’t get to kiss her and then come here, say sorry and then kiss me as if it didn’t happen.”

You turn your head toward the playroom and can still hear Oliver babbling in there, oblivious to what is happening around the corner. You wipe your lips removing the taste of him from you. You place a hand on your stomach, rubbing it gently while your other wipes away the tears that haven’t fallen yet. You feel Fred’s gaze as he waits for your next move.

You let your tears stop, taking a few deep breaths. You finally turn back to Fred and stand up from the barstool “I need some time” you mumble almost not audible “some space.” You walk over to the other side of the room and grab your phone putting it in your purse while heading to the door.

Fred follows you to the door “what you’re leaving? If anyone is leaving, going to a hotel…it will be me not you; I fucked up and you’re pregnant. Just let me pack a bag and” he trails off for a second “and spend some time with him. I’ll tell him in a couple hours I have a road trip or –“ he rambles on.

“Fred you’re not leaving” you cut him off. “He wouldn’t believe you, I told him when you won last night you would be home for a bit. We have a 7 bedroom house, I’ll sleep in our old bed for a bit. I just…I need a drive” you say walking out the door.

You return a couple hours later, having driven aimlessly around. You called Carlee just to hear her voice, not having it in you to say out loud what happened. You thought if you pretended it didn’t happen you might forget for a minute that it didn’t; but it still felt real. It took so much energy to not break down, especially when she asked how Fred was. You were really happy you were driving, otherwise she would have switched to FaceTime and you wouldn’t have been able to hide you pain.

She told you about her dog Carlos she recently adopted. He is a 4 year old lab husky mix with the sweetest heart, but when he doesn’t get enough attention he starts to howl which he did while on the phone. She also told you about Chris, her new boyfriend. By the time you hung up you realized you had no idea where you were and had to pull over and Google Maps your way home.

When you return home Fred is in the kitchen making dinner while Oliver watches Pixar’s newest movie on the couch.

“Hey” Fred says stirring something in a pot “dinner will be ready in twenty minutes or so.” You give him a half smile and walk over to the fridge, grabbing a drink “I moved some of my stuff to a spare room, you stay in our room.”

“Thanks” you mumble walking over to the couch to join Oliver for the movie. You sit beside him and pull him in beside you, and he fills you in on the movie.

___

“Daddy” Oliver says pointing to the TV. The second round is well underway; highlights from game 5 and Fred’s interview are being played. Fred is currently at the rink for a practice, game six being tonight.

“Yeah that’s him Ollie” you sigh. You sit there for a little while watching Oliver while he plays with his toys. “Hey bud, you want some lunch?” you ask. He looks up at you and nods before returning to his toys; you stand up and wince at the feeling of your feet, you slowly make your way to the kitchen. You open the fridge when you hear Fred’s heavy steps on the hardwood.

“Why don’t you go sit down and I’ll make lunch” he says coming up beside you. You give him a half smile and move to the living room and sit on the couch. A few minutes later Fred brings out lunch and a tea for you and Oliver.

“Daddy, daddy! Want to play hockey?” Oliver asks holding some ministicks after eating his grilled cheese.

“Sorry bud, I have a game tonight. I have to get ready for it. Another time, promise” Fred says.

“Okay.” He pauses briefly before looking at you, “mommy are we going to the game?” he asks with a spark in his eyes.

“No little man. Mommy can’t go to the game” Fred says pulling Oliver up to the couch.

“Why? We don’t get to go anymore” he sulks.

“Because mommy is growing your brothers, and it’s really hard work. She needs to relax and take it easy so they will be safe and healthy” Fred tries to explain but you can see the disappointment in your sons eyes. While you are still upset with Fred, you don’t want it to have an impact on Oliver. Tears start forming in Oliver’s eyes and you feel your heart breaking for him; mom guilt coming in hard.

Even if your doctor hadn’t given you the recommendation you still wouldn’t have gone to any games this round, given the current state of your relationship. Further to that you haven’t really spoken with Fred over the past week and a half. The only conversation you really have had was after your doctor’s appointment where you were given Betamethasone injections; a steroid to help develop the babies vital organs and others about Oliver. The tension in the house reminds you of two years ago when you told Fred you wanted to move out of the condo.

You know it’s been hard on him, he lights up when you walk in the room, and you feel his heart sink when you don’t return the feeling and walk past him. He still talks to your stomach, and rubs it trying to feel one of the babies kick; no matter how mad you are you wouldn’t deprive him of those experiences during your pregnancy.

It’s not that you love him less, because you still do; you were just so mad. But your anger is beginning to subside and you think maybe it’s time to start repairing things before they become too fractured to repair. You want to talk to him while you have time, before the babies come and it gets forgotten in the mayhem of newborns; especially since newborns have a reputation for coming early.

“Maybe we can see if Kathy or Christina can take you to the game” you say stroking his back. Oliver smiles and leaves to go play with his toys.

“It’s okay babe” Fred whispers, wiping a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen. You move closer to Fred, resting your head on his shoulder while he cautiously wraps an arm around you. You feel him stiffen beside you, unsure of what you want to do and not wanting to make anything worse.

“This is so hard. I feel so bad disappointing him” tears are slowly falling down your cheek while you watch him play in front of you. You smell Fred’s familiar cologne, something you didn’t realize you had missed so much until this moment. Fred hums in your ear “babe, you’re an amazing mom, look at him. He is happy, healthy and loved.”

You turn your head and see Fred’s eyes are locked on you, you grab his other hand that is resting on the couch and bring it to your stomach “you’re an amazing dad” you whisper up to him. He lets out a breath, one he likely has been holding in while walking on eggshells around you.

His hand strokes your stomach as you sit there looking at Fred who has turned his attention to Oliver. You notice the bags under his eyes are bigger and darker than normal, his beard is slightly longer than normal in need of a trim and brushing. You see the emptiness behind his eyes while he gently rubs your stomach.

“Maybe tonight you can sleep in our bed…with me” you say looking up at him. A small smile crosses his face while he turns to look at you “yeah?” he asks, and you just nod smiling at him.

“I’d like that” he says, you lean forward and gently press your lips to his “me too” you whisper pulling back. Fred’s arm tightens around you and he pulls you closer to him, your hand scratches through his beard.

“We still have some things to talk about though” you say. Fred just smiles and nods while you rise onto your knees bringing his face closer to yours, you bring your lips back onto his tasting his chap stick. You swirl your tongue in his mouth moaning lightly at his touch you have been yearning for.

“Daddy can you read to me?” you hear Oliver ask causing you to separate, as he walks over to his bookshelf to pick a book out. You slide beside Fred settling under his arm while Oliver crawls onto the couch and snuggles in on the other side of him.

A few hours later Fred has left for the game, but not before placing a long passionate kiss on your lips. You can tell it’s something he didn’t want to end. You practically had to push him out the door so he wasn’t late.

Sportsnet is playing lightly on the TV when you see Oliver come down the hall in his jersey even though the game doesn’t start for another 2 hours. He picks up a ministicks and pretends to play, but you can see the emptiness in his actions. He is only holding his stick with one hand, barely making contact with his puck trying to act excited but you know he is disappointed in being at home.

You wander to your bedroom and get changed out of your sweatpants. You change into a pair of maternity jeans and a loose black V-neck T-shirt before returning to the living room. “Hey Oliver, you want to go to daddy’s game?” you ask. He looks up at you with the biggest smile you have seen on his face in a while “yeah I do mommy! But what about my brudders?” he asks looking at your belly.

“They deserve to have some fun for one night right?” you ask, he nods in agreeance. “We will be okay, promise.”

Oliver nods taking in your words, and practically runs down the hall when you tell him to get his shoes on. A few minutes later you are on the way to the game as Oliver rambles in the backseat. He hasn’t stopped smiling since you told him you were going to the game. After parking you help Oliver out of the car and pull on your Andersen denim jacket you have yet to wear. You grab Oliver’s hand while walking through the building to the wag suite. Oliver immediately pulls away and runs to play with some of the other kids.

“What are you doing here?” Kathy asks hugging you.

“He really wanted to come to a game and I wasn’t feeling terrible so I thought we could come” you explain. You leave out the part where Fred kissed another woman and you have been too bitter and upset to come but are ready to forgive him. You don’t know if she knows, or who of the WAG’s knows but at this point you don’t care.

As the warmups start Oliver runs over asking if you can go down to the ice to watch. Of course you agree and walk down to the ice to say hi to Fred. He skates around the ice a few times and goes to his spot beside the hash marks to do his stretches. Oliver waves at him trying to capture his attention but you aren’t sure he will since he didn’t expect you. He puts his helmet on and begins to skate into the crease to take some warmup shots when he spots you. He skates over to you lifting his helmet; he shoots you a glance before bending down to tap the glass by Oliver. He fist bumps Oliver before standing up to look at you.

You can tell he is happy to see you even if he wants you to be resting at home. You smirk at him and turn slightly to show him the back of your jacket. A large grin crosses his face, and he raises his eyebrows at you, you chuckle slightly. You blow him an air kiss and he smiles and mouths “love you” before skating off into the net.

You return to the suite to watch the game. You have been sitting beside Kathy who has been filling you in on all her wedding details, showing you the bridesmaid dress she has picked for you. You have been shifting in your seat, wincing slightly at the pain you can feel in your lower back. Your shoes begin to fill a size to small, and you are sure your feet have swollen.

It is the end of the first period and the Penguins are up 1-0. You look over at Oliver who hasn’t stopped watching the game, a large smile plastered on his face the entire time. You would be tempted to leave, but you feel so bad for Oliver. He has wanted to go to a game for so long, but you don’t know if you can sit any longer. You stand up, putting a hand on your lower back as you start pacing around the room trying to see if the pain subsides.

“Why don’t you go home” you hear Kathy say coming up beside you “I can tell you are struggling here.”

You look over at Oliver who is chatting with some of the other kids “I can’t make him leave. He has been so upset not coming to games. I finally bring him to one, a playoff one too; I can’t take him home it will crush him. I’ll be fine” you say trying to convince yourself.

“Fred have a car seat in his car?” she asks.

You shake your head no “Fred brought his BMW tonight, but I have his spare key in my purse.”

“Leave him and your keys with me and take the BMW home. I’ll watch him and deliver him to Fred after the game. He won’t even notice you’re gone and you can get home and rest, your due date is soon” she explains.

You laugh lightly knowing she is right “my due date isn’t for 8 weeks so hopefully they hold on a bit longer, but thanks Kathy.”

You give her a hug before walking over to Oliver “hey buddy, mommy isn’t feeling too good so I’m going to go home” you say and see his face fall. “But Kathy said she can watch you for the rest of the game so mommy can go rest” you explain “is that okay?”

“Yeah” he cheers causing both you and Kathy to laugh.

“Okay you be good for Kathy” you say brushing hair from his face “and daddy will drive you home after the game.”

“Okay, love you mommy” he says wrapping his arms around your legs.

You pull out of the garage and start the 20 minute drive home. You are sitting at a red light listening to AM radio, waiting for the second period broadcast to start. You shift slightly in your seat trying to get comfortable, this car isn’t the most ideal for a large belly so you haven’t driven it in a few months. You mindlessly stare out the window tapping the steering wheel. Just as the light turns green you put your foot on the gas and start to advance through the intersection.

You her screeching and feel your body fly forward, the seatbelt locking around you. Next your face and chest feel like they are being punched by a very firm but fluffy pillow. A loud ringing noise echoes through your ears. Warm liquid falls down your face, when everything around you goes dark.

Next Chapter

#nhl fic #nhl smut #frederik andersen #frederik andersen x reader #frederik andersen fic #frederik andersen smut #Freddie Andersen #freddie andersen smut #freddie andersen x reader #freddie andersen fic #fred andersen #fred andersen smut #fred andersen x reader #Fred Andersen Fic #because two people got drunk #my writing

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hazbbyhaz · 3 years

Text

sleepless || harry styles

five

pairing: Harry Styles x OC

synopsis: bathroom mishap

disclaimer: none

I spent my life learning to feel less

“I have to greet some other people that have shown up, but there are drinks and snacks in the kitchen, okay? Everyone here is nice, so just talk to people.” Hary explains as he steps back from the hug.

She can't tell him that just talking to people is a lot easier said than done, so Avery simply nods as Harry smiles at her one last time before disappearing into the ever-expanding crowd. She takes a look around his flat. It was very spacious, with big windows. The kitchen was rather small but big enough for one person, and the brick wall littered with guitars made it seem cozy. There was also a fireplace in the living room, but she doubted it was a real one.

Her gaze moves through the room and she suddenly misses having the present in her hand. Instead of following Harry's advice, she decided to just sort out her thoughts in the bathroom for a bit. She did that a lot when her mind was troubling her. Avoiding social interaction was far easier than trying to engage in them.

The hallway of the flat wasn't very long, there were only three doors to choose from. She thought about starting with the last door and working her way to the front when the first door opened and a girl emerged.

Assuming that the first door leads to the bathroom she reaches for the handle, opens the door, and closes it behind herself. However, she quickly realizes that this room was not the bathroom, it was a bedroom. The room was rather dark, furniture, and color-wise. There wasn't half as much light flooding into here as there was anywhere else in the flat, the windows were covered in some sort of cloth. An array of books and magazines were spread across the bed, some falling onto the floor.

“I'm guessing you are also looking for the bathroom and not about to give me a blow job.” A sudden voice appears to her right and Avery jumps in fright. Her hands immediately go to her beating heart as the guy looks up at her. His comfortable clothes are weirdly monochrome in a dark green tone.

“I'm so sorry,” She murmurs, her heart still beating wildly in her chest. “I thought this was the bathroom… The other girl she- she came out of here so I thought..”

“Well let me tell you, she thought the same thing.” He goes to the other side of the room, somehow managing to not trip over anything on the floor. He stops in front of a small bookshelf beside the window. Avery doesn't move.

“This is the moment when you mutter another sorry and then leave,” He says, his gaze not once moving away from the shelf.

“Oh…” She mumbles. “Oh, okay... I'm sorry. Have a good night.” He doesn't reply so she simply leaves the room, carefully and quietly closing the door behind her.

Back in the hallway, she goes to try at the second door, behind lies the actual bathroom. It's very small and everything is painted an odd shade of lime green. Several dying plants sat on a nearby windowsill. Avery takes a look into the mirror, getting her hair away from her face before taking several deep breaths. The music outside isn't completely drowned out by the bathroom door, making it hard for her to think straight.

“Have some fun, Avery.” She whispers, looking at her reflection directly in the eyes. “Just try to have some fun” Taking one more deep breath, she fills up a cup sitting by the sink with water from the faucet, pouring it into the plant pots nearby. As she opened the door to make her exit, there was already another girl hurriedly pushing past her and slamming the door closed.

“Avery! I Was looking for you.” Harry suddenly appears in front of her, taking her by the arm without saying another word and dragging her into the living room. She ignores her speeding heart, trying to catch up. They stop in front of a few people, one girl and one boy that she had seen earlier.

“Everyone, this is Avery,” Harry announces with a smile. “I met her while eating fish and chips, and she is going to be a journalist.”

She ignores his lie. Avery was too nervous to correct him and found herself occupied enough with four pairs of eyes staring back at her. “Hello.” She says back at them, putting on a polite smile. Her fingers fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist, she could feel the stress start to pile up on her chest.

“You want something to drink?” One of the guys asks, nodding in her direction with a red solo cup. “Uhm… do you have tea?”

The boy and the others chuckle and so does Harry. “I’m sorry I’m just always-”

“Don't worry, I’ll make you a cup. Come on.” Avery follows Harry back to the kitchen, feeling stares that she knows are nonexistent. She didn't want to be here any longer.

“So, how have you been?” He leans against the counter after filling the kettle with water and turning it on.

“Fine. You dropped the letter off one flat above me.”

“Really? Damn, I was so close. Thank you again for the present, I love it.”

She manages a genuine smile. This was the first gift she had brought to anyone in years. “I'm glad you like it, I picked it because you said that you are a Rockstar, and one of the song titles reminded me of you,” Avery explains, almost embarrassed at all the words coming out of her mouth.

“Great thinking,” He grins at her before taking two mugs out of the cupboard. “What tea do you fancy?”

“Do you have mint?”

“Sure do.” He reaches for the paper box and puts a tea bag into each cup before pouring the hot water over the top.

Harry scourers the kitchen cupboards until he locates a bottle of honey. He holds it up to her, silently asking if she wants any in her tea. She gives him a small nod.

“Are you really?”

“Am I really what?”

“A Rockstar.” She adds

“Well, tels say that most of the time I feel like a rockstar, but am I one? No. I'm a photographer for fashion.”

“What makes you feel like a rockstar?’ Avery takes the cup he holds out to her and keeps it held close to her body, feeling cozy from its radiating heat.

“What makes me feel like a Rockstar? Fighting in the alley behind bars and eating fish and chips at 2 Am with tired girls.”

“That doesn't sound like a Rockstar life,” she mumbles with a frown, but she can't keep a small smile at bay much longer.

“What do you know about a Rockstar’s life?” Harry questions with the same smile on his face.

“Nothing, I guess.”

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psycho-slytherin · 3 years

Text

Bonus: Yoongi's chapter

Request: Hi! I would just like to say I LOVE strangers! In regards to the bonus chapter, I am so curious as to what Yoongi did at the end of ch. 19. The kiss between them is like my favorite part ever! I just wanna know what his point of view may have been! Again, love the series so much! Thanks for all you do!! <3

Context: This takes place during Strangers ch. 19 after Y/n learned of the damage to her apartment. This content is not relevant to the main Strangers plot.

WC: 3k I have no idea what happened

|mlist|

A/N: yes I did this instead of studying for any of my four finals and no I don't regret it, ty anon for the request! Pls drop an ask or comment letting me know what you think, requests are open!

“Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

“Nooo,” you groan goodnaturedly as you lose again. Taehyung, your rival, laughs as he grabs the bottle and tops off your glass. You’re sitting in between him and Seokjin, across from Namjoon. Yoongi, as usual, is curled up in his favorite armchair.

He watches you play in amusement, sipping from a cup of mint tea. He’s so used to keeping his guard up around you, and he has a feeling that, like last night, you’ll need help getting home. Even if he won’t be driving, he’d rather have his wits about him to ensure you stay safe.

Oh, wait, no – he’s struck by the reminder that your apartment is getting renovated; you’re staying at their place tonight. He blinks hard and takes a long pull of tea. He knows that he welcomed you to stay, but part of him feels nervous.

You chug the rest of your drink, which as far as Yoongi knows is some combination of beer and soju. He watches as you pause, your expression unreadable. You have a drop of soju dripping slowly down your bottom lip.

“Y/n-” he starts, about to alert you, when you reach up and swipe your lip with your thumb, catching the droplet. On hearing his voice, though, you turn and lock eyes with him. Right as you lick the droplet off your finger. Yoongi half-gasps into his cup, inhaling tea in the process. He immediately coughs and sputters, lungs burning.

“I- kitchen,” he manages, although no one seems to be paying attention. He stands, still coughing, and runs to the kitchen, standing over the sink as he struggles to catch his breath. Your face in that moment feels etched into the inside of his eyelids.

Dear god, that’s just not fair. Once his airway is clear, he runs the faucet, splashing cold water onto his face. He knows you don’t mean anything by your actions. You had an awful day and just want to forget. Speaking of… Xiumin. Yoongi clenches his fist, his face and hair dripping water. He wasn’t careful enough, and ended up soaking his collar as well. If he ever meets your ex, it’ll take all the self-control he has to keep from punching Xiumin in the throat.

When he returns to the living room, Yoongi sees you sobbing on Seokjin’s shoulder.

“I th-thought he loved m-me. Why does nobody love me?”

“I love you, Y/n,” Hoseok replies loudly. Yoongi glances at Namjoon.

“What happened?”

Namjoon shrugs, tipping his glass at Yoongi. “Dunno. She just started crying. Better out than in, I guess?”

“Sure,” Yoongi replies absentmindedly. Seokjin is rubbing Y/n’s back comfortingly.

“Why is she staying the night, hyung?”

“Ah- she said her apartment was getting renovated.”

You raise your head, swollen eyes narrowing at Yoongi. “And my apartment is flooded because someone dragged me out.”

Yoongi raises a brow at Namjoon in surprise as you continue glaring at him. “Min Suga… no wait, Agust… what was I talking about?”

How on earth is it his fault that your apartment is damaged? Still, anger, even if directed at him, is better than a painful, hopeless depression. Yoongi learned that lesson years ago. “You were blaming me,” he says softly. How could he ever be upset at you?

“Right! Yeah, it’s all your fault. I’m mad at you now!” you say, pointing. Taehyung, who’s been hovering between sleep and consciousness all evening, snickers. He’s made a pillow of Y/n’s lap, and Yoongi, after quelling the urge to fling the vocalist across the room, sighs and chuckles to himself. He knows how much of a wreck your life has felt like lately – after all, you tell him practically everything. He doesn’t know exactly what happened tonight, only that you learned Xiumin was cheating on you. He’s glad that you have him and the other members to lean on. He remembers hearing your voice tremble and break in that message you left… “Yoongi, I- I need you. Please, something happened. I don’t want to be alone.”

Lost in his thoughts, he barely hears himself respond to you: “Whatever you say, Y/n.”

Yoongi watches you, still grumpy, poke a sleepy Taehyung on the cheek. “God, why are you all so hot?”

Seokjin snorts, and Yoongi sees Namjoon take a swig of his drink to cover a smirk. Blushing, Taehyung sits up and sticks his tongue out at you. Your mood switches instantly, and you giggle, scrunching your nose at Tae.

“Why’s he getting all the attention?” Hoseok, his cheeks red from the liquor. He, Jimin, and Jungkook have been trying to play cards, but none of their attention spans seem to last long enough to remember who played last. It doesn’t help that Hoseok is clutching both of your shoes in his hands.

“Sorry, guys!” You laugh, wiping your eyes. Yoongi doesn’t understand how you can still smile while clearly still feeling so much pain. “I’ll pay attention to you now.” You try to crawl off the couch, but instead fall onto the floor with a thump, knocking over the deck of cards. You pop up, reaching for an open bottle of vodka on the coffee table, and take a swig.

“She’s gonna have a bitch of a headache tomorrow,” Namjoon comments. Yoongi winces in sympathy, walking over to you as you hug Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook in turn.

“C’mon, let’s get you up,” he holds out a hand to help you up, but instead you take his hand and shake it with a giggle.

“Nice to meet you, Suga~” you chirp, still on the floor. “You’re pretty.”

Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He’s been trying to stay serious to allow you space to grieve, but you’re being so ridiculous, so adorable, that he can feel his discipline waning. “Why, thank you,” he says, chuckling.

“And Joon!” You say, turning your gaze upon Namjoon. “You’re pretty too. God, I used to have, like, the biggest crush on you, you know?”

The boys burst out laughing, Namjoon the hardest of them all. “You’re an honest drunk, aren’t you?” He says with a wink. “What do you think about Yoongi hyung?”

“O-kay, that’s enough, we should all get to sleeping.” Yoongi claps, distracting Y/n from the swift kick he delivers to Namjoon’s shin. The younger rapper grimaces in pain, but it morphs into a mischievous grin.

“Y/n, come sit with me,” Namjoon says, patting the seat next to him on the couch. You bounce up and Yoongi, for half a moment, sees red. Instead of settling next to Namjoon, you’ve chosen to sprawl across him, smacking your lips sleepily. He can’t remember the last time he’s wanted to become another person, but now it’s all he can think about. Almost without thinking, he grabs the last clean shot glass and pours himself a shot of his favorite sweet liquor.

“Speaking of sleeping,” Jungkook says, “Where is Y/n gonna sleep?”

“I can jussht take the couch,” you say, slurring a bit.

“You’re a guest, Y/n-ie. You can have my bed. That is,” Seokjin says, glancing at Yoongi, “If you don’t mind rooming with Yoong-”

Yoongi knows with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t sleep a wink if he were in the same room as Y/n. Besides, what if she wants to sleep alone, or she’s still mad at him? “Don’t worry about it, hyung – she can take my bed, I’ll take the couch.” He doesn’t feel tired at all, so being out in the living room will give him more of a chance to wander without bothering anyone.

“You’re both wrong,” the maknae says with a hiccup. “Why doesn’t she – hic – take my bed? I’m not rooming with anyone.”

You sit up, still on Namjoon’s lap. Yoongi’s eye twitches. Where is this jealousy coming from? It’s not the first time Y/n has acted this way, although she’s certainly bolder than before. He doesn’t know why tonight, it bothers him so much. “I’ve already said I’ll sleep on the couch, and I’ll throw my shoe at anyone that argues with me,” you say, your words clearer than they’ve been all evening.

Yoongi can’t hold back his laugh this time as he looks at Hoseok. “You already did, Y/n. Twice. I don’t know if you’re getting those back tonight.” He wishes he could be as confident a tease as his fellow rappers, but with Y/n… it’s probably best that his platonic intentions are clear.

“Aw,” you say, sticking your lip out in a painfully adorable pout. “Anyways, I’m sleeping on the couch. Goodnight!” With that, you scoot off of Namjoon, who’s still smirking at Yoongi, and push him off the couch. Grabbing the blanket that was lying on the back of the couch, you roll over and begin deep, exaggerated breaths, clearly pretending to be asleep.

“You heard the madam,” Namjoon says, stretching. “I’m off to bed. You guys coming?”

“Yeah,” Jimin mumbles sleepily. Taehyung grabs Jimin's arm to help himself get off the couch, and the three go to their respective rooms.

“I’ll stay here a bit longer,” Seokjin says. Jungkook nods in agreement, and Hoseok is fast asleep on the floor.

“I’ll hang out a bit too then,” Yoongi says. You’re stubborn in pretending to sleep; you’re so motionless it looks unnatural, with none of the twitches or sniffs of a real sleeping person.

“So how come Y/n’s apartment flooded?” Jungkook says with a yawn.

Yoongi thinks to earlier in the night, when you swung open the door with a blanket around your shoulders, your eyes shining with tears. Now that he recalls, he did hear the faint sound of running water when he drew you into his arms and out the door. Had you left something running that he’d distracted you from? Then it wasn’t just your drunk outburst – your disaster really was Yoongi’s fault. He blinks hard, a nervous habit from his trainee days. “I think she may have left something running.”

“Damn, been there,” the maknae laughs. “Remember when I tried to fill up one of those kiddie pools inside the house and forgot about it?”

“I couldn’t forget if I wanted to,” Seokjin replies with a sigh. “I thought Manager-nim would fire us on the spot.”

“Can you imagine? No BTS?” Jungkook asks, absentmindedly poking the sleeping Hoseok’s shoulder.

Can he imagine it? Would he still be Gloss, the underground rapper from Daegu? Would he have tried to make it as a producer, and sent other artists to the spotlight? Or would he have given up on music entirely, and be leading a life as an office worker?

“I have no idea what I’d be doing,” Seokjin says, interrupting his thoughts. “I suppose we’ll never know how hypotheticals might’ve worked out.”

“Mm. I think I’m heading to bed now. Goodnight, hyungs.” Jungkook leans down and picks up Hoseok in a fireman’s carry over his shoulder. The rapper, of course, stays sound asleep. Seokjin nods at Yoongi. “Let’s turn in?”

Yoongi casts a last glance at you. He can’t tell anymore if you’re awake or not. “Yeah, alright.”

With that, he and Seokjin walk down the hall to their shared room. Yoongi flicks off the lights, plunging the apartment into darkness.

In bed, Yoongi can’t sleep. That’s nothing new – he knows ARMYs love to joke about how he’s always sleepy, but it’s so hard for him to sleep at night that his daytime fatigue is constant. He can hear Seokjin snoring across the room. And you, you’re out in the living room.

Shit. Suddenly the air is stifling – he’s too warm, he can’t stand it. Cursing under his breath, Yoongi sits up and pulls his T-shirt over his head, falling back onto his pillow. It doesn’t help. His skin feels flushed, uncomfortable. Several minutes pass as Yoongi tries to keep his breathing steady, pleading with his own mind to turn off and let him rest.

His efforts prove fruitless. At last he groans and kicks his sheets off, standing. I should ask Manager-nim for sleeping pills. He pads across the hall, letting himself into his producing studio and settling into the familiar, comforting chair, reaching for his headset. The demos for his next mixtape are still loaded on the computer. Desperate for something, anything to occupy his thoughts, he hits Play and lets the beat pound in his ears. Immediately he zeros in on edits.

“I need to pause for another measure,” he mumbles, reaching for a pen and scribbling his notes down. “Ad-lib there. Stronger snare in the chorus.”

Another half hour passes in the same manner before he remembers that he still needs to actually sleep. Groaning, he leans back in the chair, rubbing his eyes. “Dammit.”

Eventually he gets up and opens the door of his studio, about to head back to his room when he notices movement down the hall.

Ah. It looks like he’s not the only one who can’t sleep. Yoongi smiles to himself and sighs, returning to his room to pull his shirt back on over his head.

You’re sitting on the floor, against the couch, looking out onto Seoul through the window opposite. Yoongi notices you’ve once again wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. Are you cold, he wonders, or is it more for comfort than anything?

He walks closer, his weight accidentally making the floorboards creak. You notice.

“Yoongi.”

Yoongi smiles to himself as he sits down beside you. How did you know it was him without even turning to look? “Hey, you’re awake. How are you?”

You lean your head on his shoulder, your cheek brushing against his collarbone, exposed by the loose T-shirt. Yoongi feels his breath catch in his throat. “I’m sad,” you say with a hiccup. “Is that allowed?”

Is it allowed? For a moment he feels like he’s talking to his former self – a younger Yoongi that was terrified of the monster inside of him, the one that made him despise himself. Was he allowed to feel?

“Of course it is, Y/n. I’d be surprised if you weren’t.” He hates seeing you like this, knowing he can’t do anything to heal your heartache.

Your voice sounds on the edge of tears again, and cautiously Yoongi reaches up to rub circles on your back like he saw Seokjin do. “You’re so nice. You really are the best, you know that?”

Yoongi snickers. He likes this honest version of Y/n, and in the dark it’s easier for even him to relax. “Of course I am.” He nudges you. “I’m the best at being furniture, apparently.”

You nuzzle further into him, your face now pressed into the nook between his collarbone and the curve of his neck. “You are. You’re like a soft floofy couch.”

Yoongi holds his breath. It’s for comfort, you just got cheated on, you need a friend to comfort you. He’s supporting you as your friend. Your cheeks are warm from the alcohol, but suddenly the warmth doesn’t bother Yoongi as much now. It’s several seconds before he can trust himself to speak without his voice wavering. “That’s good, Y/n.”

You sit up, breaking the spell. “Yoongs? I feel weird. Like, I’m sad, but…” you look away from him, your eyes glittering with the lights of Seoul below. In that moment, Yoongi feels like he could write a thousand songs. “I don’t feel sad for the right reasons.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sad that I’m not sad,” you whisper, turning back toward him. You’re… much closer than before. “And I’m not sad because I have you.”

“Y/n,” Yoongi says, his voice barely audible even to his ears, “you know you’ll always have me.”

You lean closer, your eyes fluttering closed. Yoongi barely has a moment to notice how long your lashes look in the dim light before you’re pressing impossibly soft lips against his.

You’re kissing him. Yoongi can only thank his lucky stars that he was sober enough to remember to brush his teeth, because you’re kissing him. He barely registers it for a second, his consciousness somewhere far away, before: idiot. Kiss her back.

Remembering that he has arms, and that he can move them, helps as he wraps them around you and pulls you in closer, kissing you hard. He knows this isn’t a good idea – you’re heartbroken, drunk, and rebounding – but dear god, are your lips addictive. Suddenly Yoongi resents that breathing is a human necessity; this is so much better. You taste like soju and chocolate, and your mouth against his is so soft and full that Yoongi has to restrain himself from the urge to bite your lip. No, there’s something about this moment that’s too precious, too special, too magic to change. If he takes a breath or opens his eyes, the spell will break. He shifts positions so he can turn to face you completely, tracing his way up to cup your face in his hands. He’s never noticed, since he’s never had the chance, but your face fits perfectly in the curve of his palms. He smiles against your lips, entranced.

Yoongi doesn’t know if it was ten seconds or five minutes before you both pull away, and he sees a goofy smile form on your lips. “You’re amazing, Min Yoongi.”

All the self-control in the world couldn’t stop the blush that spreads across his cheeks, or the grin that follows. “You’re pretty great too, Y/n.”

You look like you’re about to say something else, but inside your muscles fall slack and you slump over, asleep. Yoongi catches you and carefully lifts you up onto the couch. As he spreads the blanket back over your sleeping form, he wishes for a second he were as strong as Jungkook.

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he whispers. You’re completely out, but breathing well. In the dim moonlight and glow of the city, you look practically ethereal.

As he tiptoes back to bed, the thought strikes him: What the fuck is going to happen tomorrow?

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