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lepusrufus · 3 years

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Double edged scalpel ch. 7

Ch.1 ch.2 ch.3 ch.4 ch.5 ch.6

Summary: in which Cassandra gets bullied and other sappy shenanigans

---

"Oh Nicole dear, so happy to see you again!" Duke's voice was cheerful as ever, tone masterfully crafted over years of being a businessman.

Nicole, taking small steps inside the ornate and now full of items room, greeted him with uncharacteristic giddiness.

"Duke! How's business?"

"Same as always, I'll be heading to Beneviento later tonight to deliver some tools for her," he took a long drag of his cigar and, noticing green eyes scanning over multiple items and said, "I also have your order."

With a childish grin on her face, she approached him, hands shuffling inside the small bag attached to her belt that all staff members had. She pulled out the money owed for her package and, in return, the Duke placed a decently sized box in her arms. With an oof she shifted it in a less precarious position, it's heavy contents seeming to plot against her small frame.

"Unfortunately I can't stay, duty calls. But thank you Duke."

"No worries, I do understand that your employers can be quite," he took another drag of his cigar, looking for the right word. "...demanding"

Nicole chuckled. That was one way to put it.

"Well until next time dear. Or if you find yourself in need of something else, I'll be here until six."

---

She was only wearing a long white towel when she heard a knock on the door. Assuming it was another maid, or even Anita inquiring about whether or not she'd be joining the rest of them for dinner, she opened the door just a crack.

It was a surprise to see none other than Cassandra standing there, her elegant frame in odd contrast with the modest corridor. She flung the door open, letting the brunette inside and took a quick glance down the hall, making sure no maid was on the floor after fainting due to fright.

"What are you doing here?"

"Aw, are you not happy to see me?" She was pouting, but her tone was joking.

Nicole rolled her eyes, but the small smile on her lips betrayed that she was indeed happy to see her. Cassandra only laughed instead, a beautiful melodious laugh, so unlike the dark cackles heard by prisoners down in the dungeons.

"Just sit down, I need to get dressed," Nicole pointed to the bed before moving to the small dresser and pulling out a clean uniform.

Cassandra went to sit on the slightly disheveled bed, eyes following the redhead's form as she let the towel drop to her feet and started to put on the various layers of her uniform. Then golden eyes darted to the box sitting on the bed. The tape sealing it had been cut not long after Nicole brought it back to her room to make sure all its contents made it safely. Not that she didn't trust the Duke, but postal service was postal service.

"What's this?" Cassandra inquired, trying to read the label but having no success as it had been scribbled over with a marker.

Nicole stilled for a moment, hands frozen on her white button up. She cleared her throat and shyly admitted:

"Actually that's for you. Do open it if you want."

Cassandra's eyes widened, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. The gesture had really caught her off guard. She gingerly lifted the lid, inspecting it's contents for a moment and then hummed.

"And here I was thinking you like my hair. With how much you love to pull on it and all that."

Nicole, now fully clothed and sporting a deep blush, marched to her and plucked the two boxes of red hair dye from gloved hands. She placed them on her nightstand and, with her voice just slightly more high pitched, she turned to the brunette.

"Those are mine, I meant the rest of it." And, after a chuckle, "I mean have you seen my roots? They're horrible!"

Cassandra only gave her a deadpan look and, after a long moment, said: "I think your hair is beautiful."

She didn't wait for a reply, not that it would be anything more than a stammered mumble of course. Instead she chuckled and returned her attention to the box. She examined the rest of its contents and then gingerly lifted one of the few tomes inside. The cover was glossy and malleable, it's pages shiny and with a distinct typography smell to it. It was so unlike her other books, it's pristine white state making it feel extremely out of place in the castle. She glanced at Nicole inquisitively.

"I do appreciate the gift, don't misunderstand me, but surely you know there's a small bookshop's worth of medical books in this castle."

"With all due respect, from what I've seen most of them are at least somewhat outdated. Interesting, yes, but I thought you'd like to learn something more...modern." Then she pulled out another book. "This is the same one I used while studying forensic pathology. It would make teaching you some things easier. Uh… assuming you want that."

Nicole averted her gaze, suddenly unsure of the usefulness of her gift. Cassandra however grabbed her chin between two fingers and pulled her gaze back on her. She smiled, finding the shy demeanor beyond endearing.

"I'd love that."

A small smile appeared on thin lips and Nicole leaned in to kiss Cassandra. It was soft and short, but no less intimate than the deep kisses they shared so many times in Cassandra's bed.

They had to go anyway.

---

Let's go to the library, Cassandra said. It'll be empty, she said.

When Cassandra swung open the intricate door, only to find the other two sisters lounging on one of the couches, it's not like they could do a one eighty and leave the room. That would've been both impolite and highly suspicious.

Instead, Cassandra grabbed her arm protectively and led them to the reading spot farthest from the other two. They placed one of the textbooks on the small desk and Cassandra took out a notebook. This would've been a lot more fruitful with an actual body on hand, but there were still a couple days until the human flesh supply had to be replenished and Cassandra was beyond eager to start on some things. So, for now, they had to settle for theory alone.

It took all of five minutes for the other two sisters to make their way to their desk. Daniela had a giddy yet curious expression on her face, while Bela seemed as unreadable as ever, if not for a glint in her eyes that betrayed her interest.

"Whatcha dooooing?" Came Daniela's voice, who cocked her head not unlike a curious puppy would while looking at the book's contents.

"Working," Cassandra replied, a slight growl accompanying her words.

"Could've fooled me," Bela spoke from behind the youngest sister, eyeing the hand protectively placed on Nicole's waist.

Cassandra snapped her eyes at the blonde, looking ready to throw her notebook at her head but Bela ignored her sister's ire and addressed Nicole instead.

"What are you studying?"

"I uh- just some basic anatomy concepts. Thought it would be a good idea to start with the things that the older books in the castle don't cover."

Bela only hummed, grabbed an ornate chair nearby, and plopped herself at the desk, opposite from the pair. Daniela mimicked her sister, but instead chose to sit down right by Nicole on the small couch. It took more willpower than she would admit not to glue herself to Cassandra's side when Daniela's face came uncomfortably close so she could look over the book's diagrams. She stood still as a statue though. After a couple seconds of silence and Nicole trying to figure out what she was supposed to do, Daniela drew her head back, looking at her with what was possibly the most serious expression she had seen on the youngest sister.

"You do realize we're not going to hurt you right? How could we lay a finger on our dear sister's lover hmm?"

Nicole's breath caught in her throat. She wasn't sure if it was due to the word used to describe her or how Daniela apparently knew that she was utterly terrified of her. Cassandra sighed beside her and, seeming to at least partially read Nicole's thoughts, clarified:

"Your heartbeat."

Oh. Yeah. Yeah her heart was beating a million miles an hour. And apparently the other three vampiric occupants of the room were able to hear it loud and clear. It did very little to ease her mind.

"Please do calm down, it feels like someone is having drumming lessons. Bad ones," Bela complained, head resting in one of her hands like she was already bored.

"Then shove a sock in your ears," Cassandra snapped.

Bela simply leaned back in her seat and stretched her arms above her head. "And risk not hearing my beloved sisters sing along to some pop song?"

Cassandra shut her mouth, a blush now slowly spreading across her cheeks while Daniela burst out into laughter. Even Nicole couldn't help betraying the brunette and letting out a giggle.

"I didn't know you could sing."

"I can't."

"Au contraire dear Cassie! Should I remind you of the last time Dragostea din tei came on the radio? The pathos!" Daniela reached over Nicole's lap to lightly shake her sister's knee through her giggles.

Cassandra only let out a long groan, face now hidden in her palms. "I hate you both."

"Mhm, we love you too," came Bela's reply, accompanied by a chuckle.

Nicole couldn't keep a small laugh while she snaked her arm behind the brunette to show some form of support against the merciless assailants. Maybe not a complete betrayal.

The scene really had something deep within her heart aching beautifully. It reminded her of the countless times she and Alex would mercilessly tease each other, but still have each other's backs through thick and thin. And for this familiarity to come from people that any sane person would consider bloodthirsty monsters? Hell, maybe they should start considering her a monster too, for the only word she could use to describe them in that moment was endearing.

"So," Bela lightly clapped her gloved hands. "Now that your pulse isn't giving me a headache anymore, what are we doing?"

She had a confident smirk on her face, but her eyes betrayed curiosity. Same for Daniela and, although mixed with a hint of annoyance, Cassandra. She opened the book in front of her, one of general human anatomy, and decided that the digestive system would be a good enough starting point.

---

Their little impromptu lesson didn't last more than two hours. Two hours that proved to Nicole just how oddly human all three sisters can be. Of course she had gotten familiar with Cassandra, intimately so, but the other two still felt like two looming monsters hiding in the shadows. At least up until now.

Bela seemed oddly intrigued by Nicole's explanation, although unlike Cassandra, she seemed to view it more like a story than anything. Daniela seemed slightly more interested, asking questions here and there and even starting to giggle like a middle schooler when they got to the rectum section. That got an eye roll from the other two. Nicole just laughed, finally understanding Mrs Hawkins, her private biology teacher from before she was allowed to step foot in any public school.

After they were done, Bela simply stood up and bid them good night. Danila instead excitedly proposed the skeletal system for next time and picked up the books she abandoned earlier. Then, with a small tower of tomes she went through a door tucked at the very back of the room. Her study, Cassandra had pointed out as they made their way out of the library.

"I didn't know your sisters were interested in medicine too." Nicole kept her voice low, almost as if talking too loudly would disturb the shadowy hallways.

"More or less. Daniela likes it and has a bit of hands-on practice but she has her nose in romance novels more often than not. Bela finds it interesting but botany is what she really loves. That and classic lit." She added the last part with a grimace and Nicole had to wonder which author had offended her personally.

Before she could continue that train of thought though, her gaze moved to the windows, the cloudless sky beyond thick glass panels full of twinkling stars. Her mind kept going back to a few hours earlier and at what Daniela had said. Lover. Did Cassandra truly see her as one or was the youngest sister just being her over the top self. Did she see Cassandra this way? Nicole had not allowed herself to dwell on that up until now, the idea that the brunette saw her as more than an over glorified lab partner with whom she occasionally scratched an itch seemed almost laughable. But the small gestures of affection shown in ways Cassandra seemed to know best were undeniably there. And the familiar flutter in her chest at each of said gestures was also undeniably there.

"What's wrong?"

Cassandra's voice, accompanied by the slight echo through the empty hallway, snapped Nicole out of her thoughts.

"Oh um- nothing." She sounded as convincing as someone trying to sell you a fork while showing you a spoon.

And Cassandra didn't seem to buy it. She moved in front of the redhead, walking backwards with no concern over possible furniture to collide into along the way.

"You always get this… face when something's bothering you."

"I do not-" the indignation in her tone was weak, little more than an attempt to change the subject.

"Mhmm you do. You normally look focused. Kind of like, if someone tried to scare you by throwing an eyeball at you, you'd laugh." She would. "Now? Now you look like a rabbit that has no time to run and is just laying low hoping whatever's hunting it passes by."

Nicole shut up for a moment, only looking at the brunette in front of her incredulously. Maybe she was far more attentive than she gave her credit for.

"Uh. Just thinking." At a raised dark eyebrow, the no shit went unsaid, so Nicole tried to elaborate. "About earlier. When we were with your sisters and Daniela uh- Daniela called me your lover."

Saying that the words felt awkward on her tongue was close to the year's biggest understatement. It felt like pulling out teeth would be an easier task. Nicole had never been good with her words, having learned since childhood to keep her mouth shut. But the fact that Cassandra seemed to share her struggle brought some semblance of comfort.

"And?" As if they were talking about the weather.

"And… was she right in describing me as such?"

She couldn't help a small gulp when the brunette stopped walking, looking at her with a frown. Any sane person would be at the very least somewhat afraid in this situation. Sanity however was scarce these days as Nicole was afraid, though not of the bodily harm that may come from her inquiry, but rather of Cassandra's answer.

"Nicole, your tongue has been in my mouth." Amongst many other places.

The redhead's cheeks turned a slight shade of crimson and she mumbled for an answer. She wasn't sure how to tell her that sleeping together did not automatically make them lovers. But then again, Cassandra's thoughts remained a mystery more than anything.

Thankfully the brunette took the metaphorical reins of the conversation and stepped forward. She wrapped her hands around Nicole's arms, gentler than one would imagine possible from her, and bent down to whisper no more than an inch away from her ear.

"I'll have you know, I'm not particularly fond of letting anyone I don't deem important touch me. Especially not the way you do."

The words made something flutter in Nicole's chest, an unfamiliar and comforting warmth. Said warmth got chipped away at the slightest bit when Cassandra pulled back to look her in the eyes.

"Should I take it that it's not mutual then?" Cassandra's tone was nonchalant, almost as if she didn't truly care about the answer. She could keep doing whatever she wanted either way, afterall who was going to stop her? But to someone who got familiar with all her small quirks and habits, the waver in her voice was more than clear.

"No." The world slipped from her lips with no hesitation.

No hesitation, because the more she thought about it, and she didn't need to think a lot mind you, the more Nicole realized that she couldn't remember a time when she felt the way she did here. Sure the initial threat of death looming over her head was anything but pleasant, but once that melted into affection and nights spent in Cassandra's arms the thought of leaving didn't as much as graze her mind.

"No, no. It is," she repeated, more certainty making its way into her tone.

At that Cassandra smiled. A small, almost shy one would say if they knew her well enough, smile. Her shoulders seemed to lose some of their tension when she leaned down again, her lips stopping not even an inch away. Nicole wasted no time leaning forward, their mouths meeting in a kiss that mixed softness and need beautifully. Their lips slid against each other until, surprisingly, it was Cassandra to pull back and sigh.

"Come sleep, we have some cutting up to do in the morning."

Nicole frowned. "Tomorrow? Wasn't that supposed to be due in a few days?"

A devilish grin appeared on black lips, fangs shimmering ominously in the low light. "Bela caught a foolish man-thing sneaking around the forest on the castle grounds. She's really excited to turn this one into a nice steak."

The redhead only let out an oh in acknowledgement. Foolish indeed. At least they could finally put into practice a few autopsy tricks Nicole had been itching to show her.

She let herself be guided back to Cassandra's chambers and into her bed, that she had grown intimately familiar with. The last thing she felt before falling asleep was the brunette's cool skin, pressed against her own. A welcomed comfort among the myriad of soft pillows that surrounded them. Nicole wondered briefly if being undead meant it was hard to keep yourself warm, but the thought quickly slipped away as she fell into a dreamless sleep.

#cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #unhinged maiden™ my beloved #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #double edged scalpel #fanfic #the dimitrescu daughters

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gwynrielsupremacist · 3 years

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FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS

Read at AO3

(if you want to be tagged in the series, let me know!)

"Now you must pass the blue thread under the black one, stretch hard to leave them together and finally place the red one above the other two." Gwyn explained as she turned the strands around and around, weaving them over and over until she got a decent bracelet.

However, the threads between the Spymaster's fingers weren't decent at all.

The priestess began to laugh softly, watching as the male next to her struggled to keep all the strings in order, failing at it, of course.

"I give up" He growled, undoing the little development he had achieved in the two hours they had been together, the shadows that were on the tips of his wings descending on his neck.

She already understood their behavior a little in front of the Shadowsinger. She knew what they were doing at that moment was comforting him.

"It's not that complicated." she murmured, grasping the edges of the threads, slowly starting to weave them, showing him the process step by step. "See? Pure practice."

But it was true in the two hours they had spent trying, Gwyn had already made more than six bracelets, while Azriel had not finished his yet.

Azriel leaned back on the sofa in the House of Wind, closing his eyes and ruffling his hair, irritably.

"I can't believe I’m not able to do this" He announced, grabbing the thin edges of the filament again, trying to interlock them, but failing again. "I quit" He said, leaving the colored strands on the table and getting up from the couch, earning a soft chuckle from Gwyn.

"I can't believe you're not capable of making a simple bracelet!" the priestess teased, grabbing her six bracelets and putting them in a small drawer, where were the different crafts she did when she couldn't sleep, or didn't want to sleep.

"I'm not as talented as you," he recognized, his voice coming from the kitchen near the living room where they were. "Do you want sugar or milk in your coffee?"

"Both!" she bellowed, hearing a laugh from the Shadowsinger.

"I imagined it," he replied, bringing in his hands a tray with two coffees, a jug of milk and a sugar bowl, while his shadows circled the tray, excited. He left the tray on top of the threads, then sat on the sofa, careful of his wings, while the shadows settled back in the crook of his neck, although some of them ran to where Gwyn was, surrounding her playfully.

"So why do you ask if you know what I'm going to answer?" she questioned, grabbing the coffee Azriel passed her, grabbing the milk and sugar to serve herself.

"Just in case you had changed that horrible taste you have" he hinted, reaching for his coffee cup, and without adding any sweetener he took it to his mouth. Noting the amazement with which she was watching him, he asked, "What?"

"Aren't you going to put a sugar cube in your coffee?" the female recommended, adding three sugar cubes to hers.

The Spymaster denied, raising the cup to his lips: "The coffee is better without anything."

Horrified, the priestess replied: "That's a lie, black coffee is just disgusting, it is very bitter." some shadows located with Azriel went towards Gwyn, as if by this they implied they agreed with her.

"Do you understand I am your master, right?" he snapped, looking amused at his shadows.

She laughed, letting the shadows entwine around her fingers, spinning rapidly.

"Maybe you don't like it, priestess, but I prefer it that way" he continued, putting the coffee down on the table and looking at the edges of the threads sticking out of the tray.

Carefully he pulled out three, one blue, one black, and finally one purple, and went back to trying to braid them.

For the first few moments, Gwyn thought he had finally learned how to make them, since he was weaving them together well, but the moment they joined one another, they became entangled.

He snorted, put the bracelet half on the table and crossed his arms, disappointment in his eyes. Some of his shadows passed around his neck, staying there.

She chuckled softly, then got to her feet and, looking at him, questioning if she could sit next to him, to which he nodded curiously, dropped to the side of the Spymaster, grabbing the edges of the bracelet and releasing them onto the ring, middle and thumb fingers.

"May l?" She asked cheerfully.

With surprise, the Shadowsinger understood what the priestess was looking for, therefore he nodded, silently asking the shadows to stay in the arc of his wings, moving closer to her and leaving his fingers flabby, for her to manipulate as she wished.

Her proximity to Azriel seemed strange to her. Someone who kept so many secrets and didn't like people occupying his personal space was allowing Gwyn to do so, and also allowing her to take his fingers and use them to create the bracelet.

The fear in Azriel's eyes when she noticed the scars on his hands made her think that it was not a good idea, that he felt uncomfortable for her touching his hands, but when his eyes met hers, Azriel nodded slightly.

She slowly stroked his palm and the back of his, earning a strangled sigh from the male.

She wondered if his scars hurt or bothered him. It was clear that something had happened to him, those marks did not occur overnight, but if he did not want to explain it, she was not going to be the one to ask.

She grabbed the ring finger and the index finger and began to tie the knot at one end of the thread so that it would be attached. Then she took his other hand and with it passed the violet through them, creating a small circle. Finally, she took the black thread and passed it through the center of the circle, holding it, while with the other hand she maneuvered to tie everything under the blue thread.

Although she didn't say anything, she did notice Azriel's irregular breathing, and Gwyn didn't know if it was because she was hurting him or if he was trying not to think that someone was touching his hands, and therefore his scars. Or if he too felt that strange sensation in his chest, as if something was slowly glowing deep within him.

She tried to compose herself, and went through the same process over and over again, trying not to touch Azriel's hands too much just in case he felt uncomfortable, until she finished the task.

Between her hands and the Spymaster's scarred hands was a perfectly made bracelet the size of a male's wrist.

When she looked up, satisfied with the result, she almost choked on her own saliva.

Tears fought to get out of the Shadowsinger's eyes, while he struggled to prevent it, without much luck, of course, preferring to lower his head, trying to make the female in that place not see the state he was in.

Gwyn didn't know what to do, he had never seen Azriel, not the Spymaster or the Shadowsinger, but Azriel so heartless and broken.

She had froze, trying to make room for her brain to understand what she had done wrong.

"Have I hurt him?" She wondered herself, alarmed.

The shadows, seeing the state of his master, went to his hands, hiding them in a mist of darkness, while others melted in his neck, reassuring.

She didn't know how long he had spent in that position, she sitting, staring at the shadows and at the Spymaster, worried that perhaps she had spoiled everything they had.

Suddenly, the shadows disappeared from his hands, reaching Gwyn's neck, and slowly they stayed there, licking her skin, getting her to calm down, even a little.

Impromptu, Azriel's right hand moved towards hers.

She didn't know if she was misunderstanding the situation, but she knew that, if she were in his situation, she would want to. So she grabbed his hand, entwining it with her fingers.

He sighed, running his free hand over his eyes, ruffling his hair and finally connecting his eyes with hers.

"I'm sorry you had to witness this" he apologized as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

She shook her head: "You've seen me in a worse situation, I think it's okay to see you having a mental breakdown" she laughed, watching his reaction, relieved when a snort left his lips.

They were silent for a few minutes, the only sound was the movement of his thumb across her hand.

"It's because of my childhood" he began to explain, stopping the movement of his finger, sighing.

"No ... You don't have to explain it to me if you don't want to," Gwyn exclaimed.

"I think, I think I owe you an explanation as to why I have behaved like this" Gwyn tried to interrupt him, but he raised a hand, indicating silence. "I'm not going to tell you the whole story, maybe another day, because I don't feel mentally stable right now to tell the whole story," he began to explain. “My mother worked as a maid for an Illyrian lord, and let's say the lord abused her. Well, I was the result of the abuse. I lived with my step mother, father and step brothers, and they locked me in a cell, denying me, among many things, human contact." Gwyn's eyes watered, and she tried to keep it minimally hidden, but it was impossible to keep an emotion hidden when the Spymaster was present. "Please don't cry, I don't think I'll be able to go through with it if I see you cry." He announced as he wiped her tears away with his index finger. “As I was saying, they denied me practically everything, and they only let me see my mother once a week. She was the only one I allowed to touch me, because when the other members of my family came to touch me, it was to attack me. I ended up being afraid of anyone's touch other than my mother's.

Gwyn's heart was squeezing little by little. She could not fully understand the behavior of the Spymaster, but she could understand that he had been a beaten, abused child, and that only the gods would know what had happened to scar so bad an Illyrian with healing powers.

"When I was dropped off at Windhaven at eleven, I would back off when they tried to touch me, and sometimes now I even refuse physical contact if it's not exactly necessary." he explained, as he began to caress her hand again. "When you have put your hands on mine, I have not felt disowned, but I have remembered in your hands the hands of my mother, always kind."

That male, known for how brooding and terrifying he was, had just admitted that he had started to cry because his touch had reminded her of his mother's touch when she was the only one who was not going to attack him.

Tears came out of her eyes, trying to hide them, but it was too late. Azriel had already seen them.

"By the Cauldron, don't cry." He said with a grimace, laughing and crying at the same time as her.

"Don't say such nice things, Shadowsinger, that way I won't cry," she replied, getting a laugh from him.

He nodded: “Okay, Berdara. If you promise me that you will do the same with me.” she chucked softly, quiet for a moment until Azriel said: “That, and don't tell anyone that I'm so fucking bad at making friendship bracelets, because holy gods, I'm terrible.”

Gwyn's laugh must have been heard by the gods themselves, earning another laugh from him.

They were silent for a moment, looking into each other's eyes, lost in each other's gaze, until Gwyn came up with something,

"I hope I don't look like a damn stupid." she thought to herself as she spread her arms, silently asking for a hug from the Spymaster of the damn Night Court.

Azriel stared at first, puzzled that he didn't really know what the hell she was doing.

Until he realized what she was asking for.

Gwyn was about to drop her arms, embarrassed, but at the last moment Azriel threw himself into her arms.

She froze.

She didn't think he was going to react that way.

“This male has spent 500 years craving physical contact. And he hadn't found anyone who didn't fear him and knew him as Azriel. Not like the Spymaster or Shadowsinger of the Night Court, but Azriel." She thought as her arms, taking care of his wings and his shadows, that she did not know when they had gone from her neck to the hollow of his wings, entwined around her back, stroking softly.

And there, with Azriel in her arms, in the House of Wind, it was when she realized that, at last, she had come home.

TAG LIST: @bookish-isha @imsointobooks @shisingh @feyretale @niaacotar @flora-shadowshine @tealnymph24 @trashforazriel

#gwynriel #gwynriel fic #my fic #azriel #gwyn

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maoam · 3 years

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i love how sasuke haters accuse sasuke fans of being biased to the point we condone sasuke's wish to commit genocide and excuse everything bad that sasuke did while they stan characters that did way more shit than him. like they bitch about all the shit sasuke did and they turn around and stan characters like gaara?? obito??? itachi??? gaara literally killed for sports and for the fun of it until he got his ass beaten and tnjed by naruto and then he suddenly became this nice guy. and the people in his village had no problem to allow him to become kazekage despite him having been a psychopath for years?? if he was able to become kazekage after something like that, why couldn't sasuke become hokage, for example? i can't express how tired i am of people insulting me for being a sasuke fan, calling me stupid and whatever while those people are so fucking full of shit and have ZERO self awareness. the worst sasuke did was kill some samurais in self defense, threaten to kill some shitty people, which he gave up on doing anyway, and yet those bitches won't get off his dick while stanning and making excuses for characters that ACTUALLY killed innocent people for fun? i have nothing against him, but i gotta love how people give gaara a free pass for everything despite him being, in part 1, worse than sasuke ever was, while they constantly bash sasuke. make it make sense

Let’s not forget that Temari, the girl-power character everyone loves, was smiling joyfully and taunting the victims when Gaara was brutally killing fodders in the forest. Meanwhile Sasuke couldn’t even kill Orochimaru’s henchmen because he was “too soft” as Orochimaru said. People also died during the invasion to Konoha but I don’t see people calling the sand siblings “irredeemable”. So they had their reasons? So did Sasuke. Team 7 could have died but Sasuke’s words to Naruto gave him motivation to protect Sasuke and Sakura and beat Gaara. (I’m not hating on Temari btw)

It’s funny how they mention genocide when the only genocide that happened was towards the Uchiha lol. Not that anyone cares about it or think Konoha should pay any reparations. And they also genuinely think Konoha which discriminated the Uchiha for decades leading to the extermination of them should be allowed to imprison or execute the last living one. Do people in the Naruto fandom understand you can’t prosecute people for saying stuff they never act on or even come up with a comprehensive plan for. Sasuke had a clear opening and didn’t do it not to mention he helped save the village anyway. It’s almost like people say stuff in a severe psychological breakdown without going through with it.

There are real life victims of genocide and state violence as well as child soldiers that have violent ideations that don’t lead to anything, it’s hard for normal people to understand how mentally broken these type of experiences can leave people. Sasuke’s comments during team 7 reunion during Kages arc are actually uncomfortably realistic, many victims of violent massacre have violent thoughts and feelings. I’ve read about cases where victims wanted even the children dead, the thing they said were messed up and uncomfortable but it was all because of how broken the experiences had left them, it’s honestly sad.

People should sometime talk to people who deal with things like these as their daily work, or read about it. This is the reason we have things like rehabilitation and therapy, people who have suffered severe injustice don’t need prison or execution. Not that I mind Sasuke having self-reflection or even doing community work, but what he truly needed was understanding and someone to validate his feelings, as well as some help. And no, “power of friendship” is not the same at all and I don’t get why people think it’s realistic it would heal people like that.

By the way, this seething Sasuke hate comes mostly from the west, I remember someone once mentioned being confused why people hate Sasuke, and saying this must be western people misunderstanding his character or something. I think partly it might be that, but I also think people don’t want to understand characters like this. Look at how everyone adores the army in Fullmetal Alchemist, especially characters like Mustang or Olivier who are both war criminals who massmurdered Ishvalans, Olivier even defending the genocide. Why is it that we are okay forgiving and liking characters for committing war crimes and massmurdering disadvantaged people but not when victims lash out after years of psychological abuse and trauma?

Anyway, continue on your Sasuke loving, he’s great! Don’t care about other people’s opinions.

#anon #naruto #sasuke uchiha #mp

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Unfettered (aka NHS goes feral) - part 3 - previous parts: on ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2

Lan Xichen had the strangest feeling that something was going to happen.

He wouldn’t pretend that he had a touch of foresight – life had shown him the hard way how completely he lacked any sorts of skill in that direction– and there was nothing altogether unusual about anything that had happened in the past few days of the war. Lan Xichen was helping with so much more now than he had during the Sunshot Campaign, when he’d been able to be a little above it all as a mere courtier or a single but powerful scouting force, thanks in large part to his sect’s then-existing weakness and Nie Mingjue’s utter brilliance. Nowadays he had to deal with the endless drudgery of war administration: the clean-up before and after battles, the mechanics of feeding and supplying all the cultivators in their front lines, planning their next move and the next after that…

Nie Huaisang had received a message and stormed out, looking annoyed, but that wasn’t new, either.

There were many demands on his time, after all. Nie Huaisang might not have much experience at war on a personal basis, having largely (and willingly) been sidelined during the Sunshot Campaign, but he was a sharp study and an excellent judge of people. He managed their generals – selected for merit without any attention to what sect they were from, if any – with an iron fist that rivaled his control over his own disciples, and on top of the war there was also his extensive network of spies, his constant scrutiny of their supply lines, his supervision of internecine disputes between the sects…

The divisions between us will be the first place Jin Guangshan strikes, he had said – snarled, rather – at the last meeting between sect leaders, taking to task men twice his age without so much as the blink of an eye. I want this petty bullshit between you resolved, now, and I don’t care how many generations you’ve been fighting over it. If you don’t fix it, I’ll fix it for you, and I assure you that neither of you want that.

They’d resolved it.

After all, Nie Huaisang was right: no one wanted him to step in.

It was a little ironic, Lan Xichen thought. The entire war had started because of Jin Guangshan’s lust for power, his desire to be called Chief Cultivator – a term Nie Huaisang denounced, as Nie Mingjue had before him – and now it was Nie Huaisang to whom the cultivation world deferred without question.

People were afraid of him.

It still seemed a little ridiculous to Lan Xichen, as if at any moment someone would step in and say that it was all a joke that they’d all been taken in by. That Nie Huaisang was still the excitable little roly-poly puppy he’d always been, Lan Xichen’s good friend’s little brother: stubborn and cute and smarter than he pretended to be, interested in nothing but his art and his fans and his clothing, lazy and indolent and unabashedly happy in a way that had brightened Lan Xichen’s day to see, every time.

He wasn’t, though. And it was Lan Xichen that had helped make him into what he was now.

During his travels, he’d heard cultivators in the field referring to Nie Huaisang as the Pallbearer, obliquely calling him the virtuous mourner as if he were a death-god whose name should not be directly uttered lest it draw his attention – it wasn’t anything Nie Huaisang had accepted as a personal title, utterly inauspicious as it was, but if he didn’t take one soon, he’d be stuck with it. If he wasn’t already.

People were simply uncomfortable calling him Nie-er-gongzi the way they had before, and Lan Xichen didn’t blame them one bit – the Nie-er-gongzi of the past was unrecognizable in the man of today.

But neither could he blame Nie Huaisang for refusing the title of Sect Leader Nie as long as his brother still had a single spark of life in his body.

Nie Mingjue…

Lan Xichen missed him terribly.

He knew he didn’t have the right to – Nie Huaisang had made that clear enough – but he did. He missed his old friend, with his confidence and his kindness and his goodness. He missed having a confidant who esteemed him and who trusted him, who shared everything with him without a moment’s hesitation, who always tried his best and honored those who did the same.

He’d once, and only once, caught a brief glimpse of Nie Mingjue after everything had happened: he’d been in bed, pale as death, face quiet and slack and peaceful in a way it never was, with doctors surrounding him. At the time, they were working furiously to save his life as Nie Huaisang paced furiously outside the door, refusing food and only drinking enough water to replenish the tears that streamed endlessly down his face.

That had been early on, before they’d realized Nie Mingjue had lapsed into a deep coma from which there was no telling when or if he would awake and, even if he did, in what state he would be left in. That had been before Nie Huaisang had banned Lan Xichen from the Unclean Realm…banned everyone, really, hosting them anywhere else he could rather than allow them anywhere near his brother when he was vulnerable.

Before he’d slowly started giving up hope. Before they all had.

It’d been years, after all. Surely if Nie Mingjue’s indomitable strength could heal him, it would have done so by now?

Of course, even if Nie Mingjue did eventually wake up, it wasn’t as if Lan Xichen would get his friend back the way it had once been. Nie Mingjue had always been righteous to the point of rigidity, willing to make the hard choices to punish those who had done wrong no matter their identity, and Lan Xichen had failed him so thoroughly, so completely…

Guiltily, too, he knew that if Nie Mingjue woke up, he’d undoubtedly step up as general once more, coordinating everything the way he had during the Sunshot Campaign – and that meant they wouldn’t need to rely on Lan Xichen’s assistance anymore.

Nie Huaisang had made that clear, too.

Whoever had raised his ire by sending him that message that had pulled him away from their work together…well, they’d better have a very good excuse. Nie Huaisang hated to be interrupted, his temper as short as anyone in his family’s had ever been, and his tongue was more poisonous than Jiang Cheng’s.

Lan Xichen would know, being its most frequent target.

Nie Huaisang had never forgiven Lan Xichen in his part in preserving Jin Guangyao’s life, and lacking the actual assassin to rend to bits, he had grimly decided to make do with the accomplice. He needled Lan Xichen at every instance, taunting him with his failures and deficiencies, making nasty jibes and underhanded remarks that cut deep – and Lan Xichen deserved every single one of them.

Back then, it had been Lan Xichen who had hesitated, refusing to believe the truth. Refusing to believe that his then (and, perhaps, still) beloved A-Yao could ever do such terrible things of which he had been accused, either at his time in the Nightless City or the assassination of Nie Mingjue – he had pushed back, prevaricated, insisted on investigating more, finding out more…in the end the truth had come out in all its ugly wretched filthy glory and the only thing his foot-dragging and indecisiveness that he’d pretended was a devotion to justice had gotten him was Nie Huaisang’s endless disdain.

The worst of it, though, wasn’t the humiliation or the insults, nor his feelings of failure and guilt.

No, it was the way his foolish heart raced at how Nie Huaisang looked now, with all restraint a distant memory – the sharp Nie features on his delicate face turning from blurred to clear as the childhood fat on his cheeks melted away; the intelligence that flashed in his eyes, now unhidden by any pretense or indifference; the utter brilliance in the casual way he rattled off orders, effortlessly taking command without permitting any backtalk; the way he moved, a mixture of the martial general and a dancer’s grace; the way everything about him perfectly fit to Lan Xichen’s taste –

He really was a fool.

He had a crush on you for years, Lan Xichen reminded himself. Nie Mingjue even told you about it, he’d even approved of it back then if only you were interested, and yet you pretended you knew nothing. But now, now when he hates you, despises you, sees you as little better than a worm to crush beneath his heel, now is when you finally choose to see what’s always been there?

He hadn’t said anything to Nie Huaisang about it, of course. There wasn’t any point when Nie Huaisang already thought of him in the worst possible terms – weakling, willfully blind, murderer – and he could easily imagine how it might go, if he ever tried anything.

(“I heard some soldiers say that I resemble Jin Guangyao,” Nie Huaisang had mused one day, his hands locked behind his back as he looked down at their troops training in the field. His voice was cold as ice and sharp as a blade. “Though there’s some disagreement as to whether it’s my face or the devious turns of my mind that bring up the comparison. I thought I’d ask you, Zewu-jun, you being the expert and all – am I a good replacement? A suitable stand-in? If I smile at you enough times, will you do whatever I say without question, the way you did for him?”

I would already do anything for you, Lan Xichen had thought at the time, full of sorrow. In a way that goes well beyond what I felt for him. But even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me, would you?)

No, it was clear enough to Lan Xichen that his father’s blood ran strong in him, dooming him to only love where he was not loved in return, and to finally realize the strength of that love only when it was too late. At least it seemed that Lan Wangji had escaped that fate with Wei Wuxian, their earlier misunderstandings aside.

A moment later, as if summoned by his thoughts, the man himself appeared.

“Oh, Zewu-jun, there you are! Have you seen Nie-xiong?” Wei Wuxian asked, popping his head in through the door. Lan Wangji was a few steps behind him, waiting patiently as he always did – he was always patient with Wei Wuxian, gentle in a manner that reminded Lan Xichen of the way he sometimes cared for the wild rabbits back at the Cloud Recesses.

They hadn’t spoken much, of late. Lan Wangji had understood Lan Xichen’s weakness and had not held it against him, but that didn’t mean Lan Xichen had forgiven himself, nor did it lessen the sting of shame he felt over events he felt must have lost him the respect of his younger brother, no matter how Lan Wangji denied it – it was easier to focus on matters of war.

“He was called away suddenly, I’m afraid,” Lan Xichen said. “He left a few shichen ago, but he said he’d be back in time for dinner.”

“Dinner has already passed,” Lan Wangji said, his voice neutral – an obvious reprimand for Lan Xichen for having not noticed, shaded with concern over the way Lan Xichen didn’t always eat the way he should. He wouldn’t be hurt by it, he practiced inedia the way they all did, of course, but that didn’t mean he should miss meals if he didn’t have to. “He has not yet returned?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. But if it’s that late, he should be back soon. Do you need him for something urgent?”

“As urgent as anything else in this war,” Wei Wuxian said with a shrug. “If you see him, let us know.”

“Why do you assume I’ll see him first?” Lan Xichen asked, a little amused, but Wei Wuxian blinked at him as if he’d said something foolish.

“He always comes to you first,” he said. “Hadn’t you noticed?”

Lan Xichen’s breath caught briefly – no, he hadn’t noticed, and his mind immediately started to race, his heart growing warm…but no. He only was being foolish again. As the army’s courier, its administrator, Lan Xichen was the obvious person for Nie Huaisang to contact if he wanted to get his plans spread out to everyone as soon as possible.

There didn’t have to be anything more to it than that.

“So when he arrives, if you could just tell him –”

“No need,” Lan Wangji interrupted. “He is approaching.”

A few moments later, and it was clear from the footsteps that Lan Wangji was right, as always – when Lan Wangji was younger, Lan Xichen used to tease him about having the ears of a bat, capable of detecting everything, and sometimes he really thought it might be true.

They waited, and the door opened, and Lan Xichen instinctively turned away as Nie Huaisang let himself in, not wanting to see those hard eyes turn even harder, the instinctive sneer that rose to Nie Huaisang’s lips at the sight of him that it always took him an extra moment to suppress.

“Nie-xiong?” Wei Wuxian asked, his voice rising a register in his shock. “What happened?”

Lan Xichen turned back at once, suddenly cold all over in terror. Had Nie Huaisang been injured? Some ambush, some attack, or worst of all a garrote made of guqin string the way he’d so foolishly taught A-Yao – but no, when he examined him with his eyes, Nie Huaisang looked hale as always, but for the redness and swelling around his eyes.

He looked for all the world as if he’d been –

Crying?

And yet Lan Xichen knew that Nie Huaisang hadn’t wept in years. One could probably accurately say that Nie Huaisang hadn’t had any expression in years, nothing that wasn’t a sneer or a grimace, maybe at best a smirk. What could have caused him to do so now…?

Nie Huaisang shook his head and unexpectedly – smiled.

A real true smile, his eyes curving into crescents and wrinkling at the corners, his cheeks glowing pink and his teeth flashing just like when he was younger and more innocent and smiled like that all the time. A smile of the sort that Lan Xichen hadn’t appreciated when he had it, the sort he’d thought was lost forever.

Lan Xichen’s heart stopped in his chest.

He wished he could stop this moment, too, to keep it with him for the rest of time.

“It’s da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, beaming. “He woke up.”

Oh, Lan Xichen thought. Oh.

Oh no.

#mdzs #lan xichen #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #unfettered #xisang

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its-a-humanriot · 3 years

Text

Common Language, pt. I

(This is the beginning to a bunch of Fallout 3 works I have knocking around my brain. I’ll post bits and pieces here and then post the full work to ao3 once it’s done)

(pt. I) / (pt. II)

---

Charon realises very quickly that he does not understand his new employer very well.

In the first instance, this is very literal.

Not many words were exchanged during her introduction as his new employer and him subsequently blowing Ahzrukhal’s brains all over the walls of the Ninth Circle. It’s not until after they make a very rapid exit and they are out in the quiet of the museum atrium catching their breath that he really pays any attention to her. Not much about his employer’s appearance immediately seems wildly unusual – she looks pretty healthy for a wastelander, if somewhat pale, and probably one of the youngest people to come through Underworld in several years. Her face is grubby with the expected dust and dirt of travel under her mop of short curly brown hair, slightly pink from sunburn across her nose and a clean strip of pallid skin around her eyes from the goggles that now hang around her neck (the look of it reminds him briefly of some small animal from before the war, though he can no longer recall its name). Although they look relatively well maintained, her armour and rifle have clearly been scavenged at least third-hand, and a faded red bandanna is tucked around the collar.

Charon takes all this in with a practiced eye, trying to evaluate what kind of person he is now bound to – as satisfying as it is to know that Ahzrukhal’s head is now spread all over the Ninth Circle, it has come at the cost of knowing his opponent. The girl in front of him does not look wealthy to be spending the number of caps he knows Ahzrukhal would have asked for his contract, nor hardened enough to have carried out whatever unscrupulous task he would have accepted as alternative payment. He can’t quite pinpoint it, but something doesn’t seem right. When she opens her mouth, his instincts are proved right.

“Well, fuck. I came to Underworld to cop a flop and a sling and hang loose for a while, maybe zee out for the night, and buddy up with you. I was not expecting to have to beat feet with a dead body behind us.”

Her accent is like no wastelander he has ever heard, and he doesn’t understand half the things that come out of her mouth. Charon can’t claim to be up to date with young people (as so few of them come through Underworld and most of Ahzrukhal’s associates were people who should absolutely not be allowed anywhere near children) but even among the various communities in the Capitol Wasteland there is usually a fair amount of common ground. This – whatever this is – is something else entirely.

His well-practiced poker face seems to keep his confusion hidden at least up until she turns to him with an uncomfortable smile on her face – she certainly has cleaner teeth than a lot of wastelanders, and not even any missing that he can see – and sticks her hand out in his direction.

“This isn’t how I was expecting to have this go but, uh, I’m Billie. Nice to actually meet you properly, Charon.”

He stares at it. A lot of people would avoid unnecessary physical contact with ghouls, even if they weren’t outright ghoul haters, and certainly none of his previous employers have ever tried to engage in something as cordial as a handshake. When he doesn’t react, she leans in a little sheepishly. “…I think you’re supposed to shake hands when you meet someone new, right?”

His stare moves up to her face. She looks about as confused as he feels. What rock has this kid crawled out from?

“What?” It’s hardly the first thing that he means to say to his new employer now they have time to talk, but this whole interaction is leaving him feeling entirely unfooted. She tilts her head at him and looks even more awkward, her outstretched hand dipping slightly before she withdraws it entirely and starts to comb it through her hair instead.

“Uh…I’m not used to meeting new folks? A couple of people have told me what passes for manners above ground but honestly, I’ve not had so many chances to try it on people who weren’t trying to vent me first.” Her face twists in an embarrassed grimace. “Is it the accent? I’ve been told it’s a little hard to understand. I can try, uh something else,” She drops her hand, brushes some stray curls out of her eyes and clears her throat. She offers her hand again and manages to take him by surprise yet again: saying clearly in an almost perfectly pronounced pre-war Transatlantic accent “Hello Charon, my name is Billie Morgan. Pleased to meet you.”

The sound hits Charon like ice cold lead in his stomach, a noise he hasn’t heard in decades beyond the occasional old holotape. It rings in his ears as fresh as it was then with all of the other memories he’d tried to bury - the cloying surgical smell of the lab in his nose, the claustrophobia of the sim pod – Scanning vitals… Welcome subject: 2875, identifier Charon. Beginning training simulation in 3, 2…

A hand touches his arm and the tension in his body spikes – Charon finds himself staggering backwards into a defensive stance. His hand, still moving on instinct, gets as far as the handle of his combat knife before his conditioning kicks in with a short shock of pain – the subject cannot harm the employer – and the opposing reactions form a strained stalemate and force him to a standstill, buzzing with adrenaline, as his presence of mind returns. His employer is now a few feet away, her brown eyes wide as she raises her hands.

“Woah, okay. Won’t do that one again. Sorry.” The artificial enunciation is gone and her original accent has returned, but she is speaking more slowly and clearly than before. He can’t tell if she’s just doing it to try and pacify him or if she is consciously trying to make herself easier to understand. Now that he has the frame of reference for it her natural inflection definitely has something pre-war about it, but it’s hard to pinpoint. “Easy there, big guy. I’ve got no scrap with you and I’m not gonna hurt you. Okay?”

Charon has at least a full foot of height on this kid, and while she looks healthy she does not look strong – the idea that she would be able to hurt him in a close quarters fight is almost laughable. Slowly, he forces himself to let go of the knife handle. The tension in his shoulders stays where it is.

“I am unable to harm my employer. Physical violence on your part invalidates our contract.” The default line gives him something to fall back on for a moment while he straightens back up to his resting position.

“That’s…something.” She doesn’t look reassured, but she drops her hands. “So we’re shiny? Cause you looked real ready to stab me for a second there.”

“I am unable to harm my employer.”

“…Right.” She appears to wait a moment for clarification that does not come before continuing. “So about your contract – it’s kinda hard to read and I didn’t really get the full shakedown before you greased Ahzrukhal so I don’t know what your rates are. I’m a little low on caps at the moment but I can pay you some upfront and then I can earn a bunch back from whatever scavving we do in the next few days to get you the rest of your cut, then we can work out an arrangement. Sound okay to you?”

“I do not require payment.”

“So what, I keep you watered and fed and breathing and we’re square? Seems like a pretty cheap deal to me.”

“I do not require protection and you are not required to provide for me, though several previous employers have chosen to do so.”

“Wait.” Her brow creases. “What does the contract say?”

“The holder of my contract is my employer.” The words come readily to his tongue after many decades of repeating them. “My employer has my services in combat and in any other duties as they see fit and I am honour bound to do as they command for as long as they hold the contract. The contract prevents me from harming my employer while I am in their service. Physical violence by the employer against me invalidates the contract.”

She stares at him hard for a long moment before she speaks again with horror in her voice.

“You’re a slave?”

“I belong to no one.” The response is automatic, the only protest he is able to make. The words taste sour in his mouth.

“You’ve just told me that you don’t require payment of any kind and that you have to do what I say. If that’s not being a slave, I don’t know what is.” She turns away and pulls on her curls for a moment while she paces before turning back to him, her face stormy. “If I’d know that skeezer was a slave owner on top of everything, I might’ve taken a pop at him myself before you ventilated his face. Fuck.” Her eyes widen again. “I bought you from him.”

“If you find the terms of my contract objectionable, you may pass it on to another.”

“I object to you being bound to the contract. Passing it over to someone else doesn’t fix that.” Pulling a face, she pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs, then pulls his contract out of her pocket. She looks over the worn paper for a moment, then a takes a single step closer to him and thrusts it in his direction. “Here.”

The ebbing tide of the adrenaline rush in his veins suddenly leaves all at once, and he is left staring at his employer’s hand again. There must a misunderstanding here. Again.

“You wish me to…hold the contract for you?”

She rolls her lips together before making deliberate eye contact with him.

“I want you to have it. Permanently, free of charge. The contract belongs to you - no more employers to boss you around.” Turning her eyes skyward for a moment, she takes a deep breath. “I’m hoping that greasing former employers of yours isn’t like a tradition or something, cause I kinda like being alive out here in the fresh air despite everything. And I have someone I really, really need to find.”

He stares at her for a long moment, stupefied. She stares back, with an expression that is perhaps supposed to be comforting despite the fact that her hand is shaking slightly. After the events at the Ninth Circle, she doesn’t have much reason to suspect that anything else will happen apart from her apart from the inside of her skull being spread all over the atrium.

“I cannot accept.”

At the sound of his voice she seems a little calmer, and gives him a warmer smile.

“Sure you can. No charge, no nothing, just like I s-”

“You misunderstand. I am physically not able to accept.”

“What?” The look of confusion is back.

“I am not able to hold my own contract. It is stated clearly in the contract terms.”

“You didn’t say that thirty seconds ago!”

“The contract terms are long. I paraphrased.”

“You paraphrased.” With a furrowed brow she pinches the bridge of her nose again with the hand holding the contract dropping to her hip, though her mouth pulls up at the corner – whether it’s from amusement or concealed frustration, he’s not sure. She takes in a breath, then drops her hand. “Right. Okay. And if I destroy the contract?”

“I am compelled to stop you from doing so, through any means necessary.”

“Even if you harm me? I thought you said you couldn’t do that.”

“Preservation of the contract takes priority over the life of my employer, though I must also take all possible actions to preserve your life.” Comforting people is not a talent Charon considers to be in his skill set. From the look on his employer’s face, he evaluates that this is still true.

“There must be a section in the contract for how it ends though, right? Surely no contract is gonna be able to hold you forever.” The naivety of the comment grates on his nerves more than he expects. Maybe it’s the aftermath of the adrenaline rush and the bewilderingly abrupt turn that this already baffling interaction has taken, but Charon’s response come out with more of a bite than he means it to.

“It’s not that simple, smoothskin.”

“But you don’t want to be bound by it, right?” Seemingly undeterred by the epithet or the warning in his tone, she continues earnestly. “If we just-”

“I said -” His voice is sharper than he would ever dared let it be speaking back to Ahzrukhal, louder than he has spoken in so very long, and he wrests control of himself back too late – his voice echoes back to him from the polished granite walls so that it rebukes him as much as it does the kid in front of him. Her eyes are wide, shoulders bunched up to her chin level, and he realises that he has unconsciously drawn up to his full height. The echo hangs in the air for a moment, and when it dies his words are back to their normal volume, even if the tone is strained: “ – it is not that simple.”

The moment continues to stretch out thin and the young woman doesn’t move or answer – just keeps staring at him. The silence leaves him feeling as unbalanced as the conversation did - worse now that he feels exposed in the wake of his outburst. Charon takes a rattly breath and fills his ravaged lungs to their full extent as he winds himself back under control – shoulders down, arms by his sides, he reverts to his typical guarding stance. When he speaks again, it in the direction of the young woman’s clenched hand rather than to her face

“For good or ill,” Charon says towards the faded scrap of parchment “I am in your service.”

#fallout 3 #fo3 #charon fo3 #lone wanderer #oc: billie morgan/hundred dollar bills (lone wanderer)#very excited to start getting this out there #nom writes stuff #common language

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thisdreamplace · 3 years

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ashamed to say the 3D reflects our true inner reality, yes? my ENTIRE family has turned against me, after some atrocious conflicts in which they all ganged up on me nd judged me, name-calling, very hurtful things too, provoked me. i been dealing with some serious mental uh 'issues' on my own nd when this happend i was already on the verge of a breakdown nd the good news is while the conflict happened i kept telling myself theyre only reflecting me u can get thru it etc. Later i looked at the hard facts nd realised some of the hurtful things they said were my deep secret feelings abt myself. BUT my question is why the HELL cant they talk to me like normal people? confronting one person vs whole family, why?! i felt so small nd like an object, nd not a single person defended me. am i not a part of the family?

Part 2 is simply its been a week and theyve still been cold towards me as if I yelled AT THEM ABT THEIR PAINFUL 'tRuThS' in front of EVERYONE LMAOOO. At first if i was around we'd have dinner together while they'd all talk to each other like best friends aka sickeningly overly friendly while completely IGNORING me while i sat there. i could tolerate it. I WAS PISSED AT THEM TOO Now its too painful. They're having dinner without telling me, yesterday didnt leave enough food for me knowing i hadnt eaten, serve tea/snacks without my portion. i honestly feel so unspeakably trigered nd sad. worst is these things r reminding me of deep school memories when id feel excluded like this by other kids at parties or class activities nd its like im back there. anyway im glad i controled myself a bit nd didnt counter with horrid things abt them to THEM yet they think they can say the same to me. im so hurt rn i cant even tell u lol i was okay the whole week but now its too much,, ive been crying the whole day

thing is, ik this seems like 'im a victim oh noooo they ganged up on meee'. Nope its more like how do i change myself to change them?! u could say why not talk to them how they made u feel, except whenever ive defended myself in the past regarding hurtful things they/anyone in family did, the siblings/parents would say irritating things like: "oh so YOU'RE the one hurt? Oh thats right, its because YOU'RE right! yes, yes, you're always right. Forgive me for saying anything against the perfect person u are." Or one of them says: "You?! I hurt YOU? What about me? You don't care about me! So you think what ur doing is okay?" or "no, who do YOU think u are to tell ME what to do?" it just goes in circles like this! i dont deserve to hurt myself or do smth to myself even if they dont give a damn, even if years of silent suffering of the 'mEntAL pRoBlEms' (which my lovely parents have already told me is my fault years ago, hence why I NEVER show it to them, unless im crying too much then lol they just mock me, but idc abt THAT bcoz now ik i hav a right to let out my emotions)). i mean this is worse rjan usual. its kinda insane nd when guests come they start talking to me as if nothing's wrong then when they leave, they ignore me!

this whole twisted dynamics, feelijf left out nd helpless is ig some crazy assumptin from childhood of being alone nd unable to defend myself. plus when they argye with anyone, they become overly self-righteous nd over the years its clear they can only scream, blame the scapegoat and never talk abt serious matter like normal ppl. And yes, in the past when i bring this up, they like to reply with stuff like: "no YOU'RE the one who doesnt talk to US bla bla" like, when i do u just shut me down? have belittled my mental 'issues', mocked me when im at my worst, stabbed me with cruel silent treatments nd thinking its alright "bcoz of self-righteousness blegh". Or maybe i think its okay for them to punish me? or whatev? Like law says u get what u r. if these ~~~ keep doing this to me, im doubly ashamed to say this means im the one at fault?! i let this monster assunptin grow nd now idk what to do. the worst thing imo is how i failed to tell them,even if they ignored me in the past, how i feel when anything like this or a conflict happens nd none of them stand up for me, or at least are neutral to me. bcoz now if i do, they say nope, u dont care what we do, YOUR the shameless one :! so yeah they hav the advantage of 'numbwrs' while im too afraid to stand up for myself lol. btw they never apologize nd i suspect they expect ME to apologize to TYEM bcoz everything's already ruined bcoz of 'me'..... i give up on them, i really do, but my heart hurts. Either i harden my heart, nd save up to move out, OR i try to change my self or whatev assumptins i have. But how do i do that? i try afirming: "my familys so nice to me, im respected by them" but it feels so fake tears literally enter my eyes lol

firstly i want to say, thank you for coming here to vent and being open about your feelings. it’s so important sometimes to just let it all out, without holding back. so that way you can move forward more bravely, to create the life you truly want to experience. that being said, i am going to be completely honest with you here in hopes that perhaps it may inspire you and you will be ready to do what is needed for the life you truly want to experience.

“BUT my question is why the HELL cant they talk to me like normal people?” -> “i felt so small nd like an object, nd not a single person defended me. am i not a part of the family?” here is your question, and here is your answer. i think that being completely honest when venting your feelings can actually be so helpful, because if you read back what you have said, you will be able to clearly find the patterns that are creating your personal hell. FEELING IS THE SECRET. ASSUMPTIONS HARDEN INTO FACT. the true way you feel, becomes your experience. Feelings/assumptions/beliefs come first, and the experiences come second to confirm them. That’s all that’s happening here.

i am glad that you were able to keep your reactions to a minimum! that's wonderful and as many of us know, it can sometimes be hard to do in such hurtful circumstances. but you managed to do it, this shows just a small glimpse of the power you truly hold within. although emotionally you may feel out of control, there is still the choice to choose better for yourself which you demonstrated through your reaction to them. good for you!

the truth is, you acknowledge the victim mindset to seem like you’re not engulfed in it, but no, you’re still very clearly engulfed in it. as i have said before, you can’t be a VICTOR and feel bad about it. feeling bad about taking responsibility, about everyone is you pushed out, about any of these types of concepts automatically shows a victim mindset. talking to them won’t do anything, because there are no second causes. you could talk to them nicely, you could be the nicest person in the world. but you can’t pretend your way out of your inner world. your inner world is the one and only cause of your experiences. until you change the story you tell yourself, they will stay the same. this is a hard pill to swallow sometimes. and it can feel heavily, because it’s ultimately only you’re choice. they can’t change until you do. the heaviness of the situation may make it seem impossible to turn around, but that’s just an illusion. your emotional attachment to the situation makes it seem so real and hard to change, but no. that’s just an illusion too. however, it’s ultimately your choice. Do you want to take responsibility for your life, or do you want to keep being tossed around like your lost at sea, victim to the merciless angry waves? Because we always have a choice. No one chooses your inner world, you do. No one can go into your mind and decide things for you, that’s only your job.

you can harden your heart, but who would be the one who suffers more? It won’t be your family, i can assure you. it’ll only be you. by doing that, you keep that old story alive and therefore you keep experiencing it. you keep those stories alive that are desperately showing themselves to you, saying “LET US GO.” but you remain identified with those painful stories, so you grip onto them tight. you keep on thinking of possible reasons for their behavior, but you could just read your entire ask back to yourself and you’ll see every reason. your reactions, your beliefs about them, your emotional pain. its your refusal to let those things go, and focus on what you truly want that keeps you in this state and keeps them in this state. sure it’s painful to face the responsibility at first, but it’s not a blame game. thinking its about blame is just a misunderstanding of the teachings. it’s not about they’re so perfect and you’re so not, so you have to change your ways. it’s about this is how life works here. this is about... you can ONLY ever experience self. whatever is going on within, will be reflected in your outer world. it’s about how they can’t change, UNTIL YOU DO. so instead of feeling sorry for yourself, you have to decide to give yourself the gift of a wonderful life because you have that power too. you stop deciding they can be in control of your experience, and you decide your experience yourself.

to change your assumptions, stop trying to affirm over them and actually face what’s keeping you from believing in your desires. yeah, it’s going to be painful and uncomfortable. but you need to face the pain that you’re running away from, so that it can finally be released. you have to realize, it only stayed true because you believed it to be true. and if you are to live a life free from that story, and experience a more desirable story, then you must let the pain go. give yourself love and grace as you work through it, and know that there is a more beautiful side of life that awaits for you to accept it in.

No One To Change But Self

There is Nothing to Forgive

How to Sit with Your Triggers

give yourself the time you need, it's not race. the love that you wish to experience exists, allow it in. 💖

#eiypo

19 notes · View notes

curly-bangtan · 5 years

Text

Blizzard (M)

Pairing: roommate!Jungkook x reader

Summary: When a blizzard hits your town, you and your shy awkward roommate are forced to spend time together, not being able to leave the house due to the strong snowstorm. To make matters worse, the power gets cut in the middle of his shower. Which also means no heating.

Genre: roommate au, domestic au, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers

Warnings: bit of a slow burner, vanilla!Jungkook, virgin!reader, dry humping, penetrative sex, fingering, oral (m receiving), losing virginity, shy soft boy Koo with a crush and a noona kink, your heart could possibly burst from how cute he is

Word Count: 15.5k oops

A/N: (This fic is written in parallel to Heatwave, with an opposing concept in mind. You don’t have to read Heatwave to read this, but it would be interesting and funny to see the differences in the two scenarios that both lead to roommates hooking up.) Also, happy birthday, bunny boy! Sorry this was a day late, I was honestly swarmed. I love you, koo. Writing this very much gave me a bias crisis but it was all worth it. Enjoy! :”)

PS. Think April 2019 Jungkook

‘A severe snowstorm is set to hit us this weekend with temperatures dropping down to -16˚C. It is therefore ill-advised for anyone to leave their houses during this period until the blizzard subsides as the fifth snow-induced traffic accident has been reported this week in our town…’

You have always marvelled at how the weather lady announces such things with such a passionate captivating tone.

‘The calculated probability of a city-wide power cut is currently at 72%, so please be well-equipped to stay indoors for the next two days.’

Oh shit. A power cut?

This is not good at all. Not like you have any plans for this weekend anyway, and you wouldn’t necessarily mind being stuck inside since you are good at entertaining yourself. But to possibly have no warm water, no internet in the duration of these few days?

You are currently snugly rolled up in the warmth of your blanket burrito, a mug of chamomile tea fitted in your hands, the steam of which evaporates under your chin into a slick coat. Friday evenings have never been eventful for you as long as Jimin doesn’t drag you out to some bar with him. As introverted as one can get, you much prefer staying in and watching TV or endlessly browsing the web.

The distinct rattling of keys spins your attention to the front door. Hearing the plunge of the metal into the keyhole is strangely satisfying to your ears. In steps a pink-nosed, frost-dusted Jungkook, all wrapped up in winter apparel thick enough to make him waddle clumsily.

A gust of cold flares inside from the harsh outdoors, stray flakes of snow flying in after him and landing on the rich oak tiles of the foyer. From the couch, you see his silhouette breathe out a visible grey huff. The door behind him falls shut, once again entrapping the warm temperature into the confines of these walls.

You watch your roommate, humming to himself with his black earpods hooked in his ears, as he unties the scarf around his neck. He probably hasn’t noticed your presence yet; he’s always been a little clueless afterall.

Then he looks up and meets your lingering gaze.

You both jump a little, his humming ceases instantly, eyes scrambling, darting away to your surroundings: the quiet television, the arching lamp, the white powdered window panes. Anywhere but at each other.

Clearing your throat, you greet him softly . ‘Hi.’ Your thumb rubs at the lip-shaped tea stain on the rim of your mug.

‘Um, hi. Good evening, noona.’ He dips his head at you, hood drooping lower over his head. You are two years his senior, and despite your supposed familiarity, he insists on formalities.

The weather lady has now been replaced with the anchorman, who is droning on about the car accident this morning. Awkwardness hangs in the air between you, as it always does every time you speak. It’s now your turn to say something, you’re painfully aware. But what do you say?

‘Snow storm.’ It is a statement more than anything. As if he hasn’t noticed… Nice one. You immediately want to hide your face in the mint furry throw you’re wrapped in.

‘Yeah. Snow storm.’ The rubbery sound of the careless removal of his shoes against the floor is louder than his response. ‘Jimin didn’t make it.’

Your blood freezes. ‘Wait what?! Oh my god! What happened to him?’ It takes the blanket sliding off you for you to realise that you’ve stood up abruptly. Your body is immediately flushed with a breeze of cold, devoid of insulation.

The car accident… It can’t be…

Jungkook’s attention flickers to the glaring screen as he paces towards you and realises how he must’ve sounded. ‘Woah, sorry, I worded it badly. I mean, Jimin’s stuck at Taehyung’s because the snow is too thick for him to drive back. And the service on his phone is whack, so he can’t reach you. Taehyung told me. Sorry, I didn’t mean he didn’t make it.’ Nervous chuckle. Scratching the back of his head.

Never has he said this many words to you in one go, this must be a record. That, as well as your own silly misunderstanding of his words, makes you release a humoured breath. ‘Oh right… Haha… I’m stupid.’

‘No. my bad.’

Wow. If you two keep this up, this might just be your longest running conversation in the history of living together.

Because he’s looking at the floor rather than you, you feel the liberation to look directly at his face. His round nose is red from the freezing temperature, his teeth gnawing at his chapped lips. You follow his gaze travel across the dark wooden panels, reaching a halt at your feet.

‘You’ve got a hole in your sock, noona.’ He states.

Indeed you do. Under his wide-eyed glare, you can’t help but curl your toes inwards as if it would hide your pinkie jutting out of the fabric. The way he addresses you, how his lips form a pouted ring when he pronounces the “oo”, makes you particularly self conscious. ‘Oh… Yeah, I know, it’s fine. It’s my only pair of fuzzy socks.’ These socks have sheltered your feet for three winters only to betray you now, during a bloody blizzard. The icy floor licks at your exposed skin tauntingly.

Silence draws taut between you. Like you’re tied to opposite ends of a string and are both trying desperately to escape, to walk away from each other.

It’s his move now… Why isn’t he saying something? But at the same time, what can he possibly respond to ‘It’s my only pair of fuzzy socks.’?

‘Right… See you.’ Jungkook nods politely and heads for his room. And you know you probably won’t see him reemerge until tomorrow; it’s practically his batcave in there.

A shudder courses through your body. Though it’s not from the cold but rather the embarrassment of that encounter. Quickly switching off the TV, you hide back in the comforts of your blanket like a Halloween ghost and scurry into your own room to avoid seeing him again.

Jeon Jungkook.

Even the thought of his name makes you crease inward involuntarily like it’s some bad memory. Despite having lived under the same roof for more or less six months, neither of you have warmed to the other in the slightest. It’s not that you have anything against him; you’re sure he must be a lovely boy, but…

Well, when you put two shy individuals next to each other, you can’t really expect them to bond over their bashfulness. No, they both tend to retract into their shells.

How you came about living together is three simple syllables: Park Jimin. If it wasn’t for this one common thread you share, your worlds would never have collided.

Ever the caring friend, it goes without saying that Jimin would rent out his vacant room in his three-bedroom house to you without even a second of hesitation after Hoseok ditches the boys to move in with his girlfriend. You’ve met all his friends before. Jimin is a social butterfly afterall, how could he resist forcing all his best mates into a confined space and make them talk to each other, or more commonly known as a party?

Namjoon and you get along just fine, seeing as you both are whores for literature. Seokjin? As long as you compliment his cooking and force a giggle at his jokes, he’ll accept your friendship. Surprisingly, Yoongi took a liking to you; you guess is due to your mild mellow nature which must clear his headaches caused by this chaotic bunch. Unsurprisingly, Hoseok took a liking to you, well, because he’s Hoseok and incapable of negativity. Much to Jimin’s jealousy, you have a soft spot for Taehyung, his mysterious charm and boyish charisma; your friendship was almost instant.

But then Jungkook…

Your introduction was a blur of awkward hellos and unmet eyes. Every time you spoke to each other, it’s a nervous stutter from him or unwarranted silence from you. Worse, if the two of you happened to bump into each other in public, neither of you knew whether or not to say hi and commence a conversation like normal acquainted people, so it always ended up being an uncomfortably long pause before nodding out of courtesy then parting ways. It’s not like you belong to the same friendship group and see each other every week or anything.

Jungkook’s playful childisness shines brightly when surrounded by the boys, witch-cackle laugh and all. However, for some reason unbeknownst to anyone, this goofy side to him is immediately switched off in your presence, as if you’re the rain that extinguishes the flame of his candle. His body stiffens, eyes widen, voice stammers. Which only leads you to mirror his behaviour.

‘He’s just really uncomfortable around girls.’ Jimin has tried to offer the only plausible explanation. ‘Poor kid went to an all boys’ school his whole life, has only ever had one girlfriend who dumped him on their one year anniversary. Your femaleness scares him.’

That would be kind of cute, you guess, if you weren’t also a socially-uncomfortable hermit who requires soft gentle prodding in order to befriend. Because then you become two logs sitting beside each other, neither willing to inch towards the other.

Forgive Jimin’s mistake of thinking that sharing a roof would change this. Because how wrong was he… If anything, it only led to increased timidity around each other.

When you first moved in, Jungkook was eager to help you carry and unpack everything, seeing as he is the most physically apt person in the house. So you thought that it was his first step towards you, and that your dynamic was finally making progress into becoming one that’s more comfortable. He even lingered around your room the first few days with Jimin to help you open all your cardboard boxes.

However, he has since struggled to utter more than five words to you. Which has continued forth until this day. In the morning rush to class, you never encounter him due to your proneness to punctuality and his to tardiness. If you ever do, it’s only ever just a quick good morning, noona without looking up from his cereal. You both enjoy the safety of your own rooms, hence rarely peak your head out unless it’s for food. Jimin is always the one to drag you out by the foot, even if its just to his room or the sofa to watch a film with him. You say drag, but really you just enjoy seeing Jimin all pouty and whiny and sucking up to you in order to earn precious quality time with you; you actually enjoy being around Jimin. It’s worse for Jungkook though because he has his own ensuite bathroom, orders Deliveroo instead of coming out to eat with you two, and only ever joins social gatherings that you’re also involved in if a high enough bribe is offered.

Hence the time you and Jungkook are exposed to each other gradually diminished over time despite being roommates. At first you only suspected, but now you know for a fact, that he is purposely avoiding you like the plague.

It baffles you, if Jimin’s theory is true, how he could possibly be scared of you, regardless of his shyness towards the female specimen. Look at you, you’re this soft-mannered, quiet-spoken creature with a meek presence. You have more reason to be intimidated by his melon-sized biceps and aggressive shouts that echo from his room when he’s gaming at 2am.

So due to this mutually reciprocated mousiness, this awkward friendship-but-not-quite thing, has never been overcome in these months.

This is not a result of lack of trying, at least from your end. You do try to talk to him, exerting enough friendliness to burst your balloon of introversion. And you suppose he does make as much effort as he can as well. He once left you a note telling you to help yourself to the leftover pizza in the fridge. On your birthday, he gave you a card in which he drew cute little cartoon illustrations of you three housemates and wrote a short message.

Happy birthday, Y/N noona!

You are such a kind person, I hope we can speak more.

Jungkook :)

You thought the exclamation mark and smiley face were above and beyond for his standards. It made you smile for the rest of the day.

It’s 6:23pm and your growling stomach is exacerbated by the cold that has made itself at home in your bones. You’ve always been an early dinner person while Jimin and Jungkook are the opposite.

You’ve managed to get a hold of Jimin through Taehyung; your FaceTime call with him lasted a total of twelve minutes before the connection got too poor that it hung up on its own. Berating Jimin for leaving you alone with Jungkook, especially in this snow storm where everyone is basically on house arrest, all he did was laugh at your feign annoyance. You know it isn’t Jimin’s fault but you still like to blame him for all the awkward predicaments that are bound to happen.

After this chapter of the book you’re reading, you’ll go out to the kitchen and make some dinner, you decide.

Wait a second... Do you even have enough food in the pantry to last a whole weekend? Particularly since Jungkook can easily demolish three bowls of rice and a whole pound of meat, and still have room for dessert?

Looking out the window, you realise it’s snowing way too hard for you to feel confident to pop to the nearest grocery store without slipping and dying.

Shit! What are you going to eat these few days? Especially since the electricity can cut any minute?

Just then, you hear the echo of the front door shutting. Oh no… Jungkook did not just go out in this weather. He probably noticed the lack of food as well and decided to go for a shop. You know what he’s like, he’s a boy who’s really certain of his capabilities, over certain in fact. He probably does not see the hazard of leaving the house in such heavy snow, especially in the evening. Because nothing stands in the way between Jungkook and Food.

Do you go after him? Hell, if you do, you would probably get lost somewhere and slowly freeze to your inevitable death. You can barely navigate in perfect daylight.

Scrambling for your phone, you begin searching for his number. You’ve embarrassingly only called him once, and that was when you and Jimin got locked out of the house after a pub night.

No one is picking up.

In fact, when you check your screen, you don’t even have signal. The blizzard must be getting so bad that it’s refracting the radio waves. Which means it’s even worse for Jungkook to be out right now.

He’s such an idiot. Why did he think it’s okay to just take a walk to the supermarket right now in the middle of a snow storm? You’re such an idiot. Why were you too lazy to stock up on food during the day?

You pace around your room, phone clutched in your hand in case you miraculously get signal somehow. How on earth would you explain to Jimin that your roommate, his friend, whom he left in your care since you’re his senior, went out in a blizzard to buy food that you were supposed to have gotten this morning, and ended up dead from hypothermia?

Are you overreacting? Surely you’re overreacting. Everything is going to be fine! Deep breaths.

He’s going to come back any minute now and see you losing your mind over nothing. Right? Right.

Jungkook isn’t going to die. You’re being paranoid. Ridiculous. Overly anxious as usual.

But you can’t help yourself from pressing your face against your window to try to peek outside for a sign of him. The glass is ice cold against your skin, and it sends a blood-chilling shock through your veins. You can barely make out any shapes in the sea of greys and whites.

If you can’t even see out the window, how is he walking outside right now?

Screw it, you’re going to find him.

You’re a tornado getting dressed, whipping on your massive faux-fur lined puffer coat over two layers of fleece. A pair of gloves, double layer of socks, snow boots. Useless phone and hand warmers shoved in your pockets, you storm out of the house.

The cold that greets you burns up your nostrils and painfully invade your lungs. Snow is flying directly at your face, and you’re barely sheltered by your hood as you feel the icy flakes stab at your skin and melt away. Step by wary step, you steadily walk off your porch, careful not to slip. Your heart leaps out of your chest when your feet sink down at least 10 inches of snow, your squeal is muffled by the scarf you’re using as a ski mask.

It’s now been at least 10 minutes since he’s left. Jungkook is a fast walker, but in the snow, perhaps you could catch up with him.

The flickering lamp posts light up the night, but they may as well not be working because all you can see is white. Barely able to keep your eyes open, and batting away the heavy wind that’s threatening to blow you over, you trek in the direction of the local supermarket.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you realise that you don’t recognise the way anymore. Everything is a blur of snow. The cars, houses, street signs. All snow. Google maps is failing you; you’ve given up removing your gloves each time, your fingers instantly freezing at the exposure, to zoom in or rotate the navigation which keeps hopping from location to location.

You’re utterly and undeniably - lost.

Stopping dead in your tracks, you just plop down on your ass in defeat.

Where the hell are you? Where the hell is Jungkook?

Fear and frustration bubbles in your chest. It must have been half an hour now since you left the house. Surely he should be back, and surely he would’ve intercepted you on the way. That could either mean one of two possibilities: he got lost, slash, injured, slash, died on his way, or you have somehow strayed from the route to the store and he’s now frantically searching for you.

The lump in your throat festers into a ball of panic and despair. Looking around you, there’s absolutely no one. Just eerily-still buildings and snow-hidden cars. The only sound is the howl of the winter gust and your own uneven breathing.

You’re scared, and cold, and alone.

Why the hell did you think you could find him in this snow storm? You watch your warm visible exhale disperse in the icy air, the stinging of desperate tears piercing the back of your eyes. What are you supposed to do now?

And then it hits you. Perhaps you could trace your steps back since your feet have imprinted a trail in the snow. Looking behind you, you see that the downpour of snow has already began filling the footprints nearest to you. You’re praying that they haven’t already entirely covered your earlier steps closer to the house.

Gathering yourself together, you exert a lot of effort to stand up from the ground. Your butt is now wet, and a damp chill is seeping into your underwear. Determined, you follow your footsteps, which are growing fainter, back home.

You’re hoping you recognise the way now, that you’re not just convincing yourself that the street looks familiar.

Then an awful realisation hits you.

Both your hands are stuffed into your pockets, holding those hand-warming packets and your phone. But not your keys. You forgot your keys.

‘Fuck!’ Cursing is rare for you, but anyone would probably deem this situation as a very reasonable one to swear at.

Hot gushes of tears begin flooding down your face, painting streaks of cold that freeze over in a matter of seconds. How could you be this dumb? The snow is getting heavier right now. Checking the time on your phone, it’s 7 o’clock. The streetlights are dimming due to the weather, and the pitch dark night is starting to settle in around you.

You sink to a crouch.

This is it then, you guess. You’ve met your inexorable demise, rooted from your own stupidity. And Jungkook.

You can’t believe you’re going to die trying to find Jungkook in a goddamn snow storm.

The quiet sobs and sniffles that escape you are muted by the hood around your ears. A shiver overtakes your body as your muscles tremble as a last attempt to keep you alive. Your whole face is numb, teeth clattering, eyes clamped shut to stop the tears from freezing on your cheeks.

‘Noona?’

The voice is muffled but you recognise it instantly. Your eyes fly open to see a pair of shoes halted in front of you. You look up.

And there Jungkook is, eyes wide in shock, quivering lips parted in concern, carrying four plastic bags full of food and supplies. The streetlight situated directly behind him shines a halo around his head, painting a heavenly image of him. You’ve never been more glad to see anyone in your life.

Unable to contain yourself, you fling your ice-stiffened arms around his waist and bury your face in his coat-clad torso. Your knees give in and hit the ground. New tears spring from your eyes, but this time it’s tears of relief, tears of joy, tears of gratitude. A surge of his warmth washes over you, and all of a sudden, the cold cannot touch you.

‘W-What happened? Are you- Are you okay?’ Jungkook is rooted to the ground, he wants to wrap an arm around your small head or help you up but his hands are full with the groceries.

Gripping his sleeves, you tug yourself up to face him. You probably look like a mess, red eyes, nose and cheeks. But you don’t care. Jungkook is alive, you’re alive, and you’ve found each other. ‘Yeah, I’m fine, Jungkook. Everything is fine.’

‘You’re crying, noona.’ His ears are neatly tucked under his black knitted beanie.

‘Not anymore, I’m good now.’ Ferociously wiping the liquids profusely leaking out of your orifices, you give him the biggest grin your frozen cheek muscles would allow. ‘Let’s go home. Do you need help with the bags?’

‘No, don’t worry about them.’

Standing an inch apart, you walk side by side following his lead, assuming he knows the way. The material of your coats scrape at each other when either of you leans a bit too far towards the other.

‘What are you doing out here though?’ He asks quietly.

What are you doing out here? How do you give him an explanation that does not depict you as an idiot? Because once again, you’ve been stupid and dramatic and stressed over absolutely nothing. It’s twice in the same day now that you thought one of your roommates have died. When both of them turned out to be alive and well.

‘Um… Well, I thought it was dangerous for you to go outside alone in this weather, especially since it’s getting dark... I tried calling you but had no signal so, uh, I decided to... uh, come out to find you…’ Embarrassment begins to creep it’s way to your senses, it claws digging into your skin.

You peak at him in your peripheral vision to see him stiffen, eyes eerily focused on the snowy path in front. What is he thinking? Is he going to laugh at you? Think you’re dumb? Find you weird and obsessive?

‘Oh… Um.’ Clearing his throat, he glances at you and you quickly look away. Flustered. ‘You didn’t have to, I’m fine. I know this neighbourhood like the back of my hand, noona.’

‘Yeah, but you took so long. I got worried…’ You whisper the last bit.

An awkward pause is birthed. Your fists tighten around the hand warmers in your pockets.

‘I- I’m sorry for worrying you, noona.’ You hear his own fists tighten around the handle of bags as well, the plastic crinkling. ‘The supermarket around the corner was shut so I had to find another one that wasn’t. I made it just in time, though, right before this one closed as well. Then I also had to find a store that sells those so-’ He stops abruptly when he realises that he’s rambling.

‘Sells what?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Jungkook mumbles.

Another silence. The night has fallen, looking around, if it isn’t for the scarce light casted by the lamp posts, everything would be pitch dark. You’re so glad you’re not alone. Worse come to worse, you would’ve had to knock on these random houses and beg them to take you in for the night.

‘Wait,’ he says, ‘That doesn’t explain why you were crying.’

Well, crap. What are you supposed to say?

‘Uhh… Well, I got lost and my phone wasn’t working, so… I just kinda panicked.’ If your face wasn’t red from the cold and embarrassment from before, it definitely is now. You feel the blood pumping to your head, enough to make you sway a little.

‘Oh shit. I’m sorry, that was all my fault. I- I should’ve told you I was popping out in the first place. Ugh, noona, I’m sorry.’ You’ve never seen him display much emotion towards you, but currently, seeing him so alive with exasperation… It’s kind of endearing.

Screw earlier, this is the longest conversation the two of you have had, ever.

‘No, Jungkook, stop apologising. It wasn’t your fault at all!’

To be fair, you couldn’t have wandered that far if Jungkook found you on his way back from whatever shop he went to; you must’ve been close at least.

And so you two arrive safely to your house. Carefully wobbling up the porch slippery with slush, you stop in front of the door.

He looks at you expectantly. ‘Keys, noona?’ Of course, his hands are full.

Here you are, thinking you could’ve gotten away with not telling him you had moronically left your keys at home. ‘Um, I forgot to bring them with me.’ You utter, then add. ‘I was in a hurry.’

For a second, Jungkook looks like he’s about to tell you off for endangering yourself with such stupidity. But he just lets out a half-laugh half-sigh and bites down on his lip. ‘Mine are in my left, no, right back jean pocket.’

Right. He is asking you to get his keys from his back pocket.

His back pocket.

You freeze.

You’ve never so much as touched Jungkook, if you don’t count brushing shoulders. Hugging him back there was purely out of hysteria, which you retracted from the second you registered your action. Now, you’re going to grope his ass. This day just keeps getting you more familiar with him, doesn’t it?

Gulping, you suck up your cowardice and slide your hand into his back pocket, intentionally not looking at him while doing so. The firmness of his buttcheek fits snugly in your palm while your index finger hooks around his keyring. And what the hell, you strangely get the urge to squeeze it.

You yank your hand out of there before it can betray you and act on that impulse. Glimpsing up, you see that his cheeks are also crimson as he stares up at the ceiling a little too attentively.

After changing into some warm dry clothes and setting your snow-dampened ones on the radiator, you go out to the kitchen to see Jungkook cooking some ramen, which doesn’t come as a surprise as he practically lives off them. He’s dressed in sweatpants and a black hoodie; after cupping his ass through his back pocket, you can’t help but notice how round his rear is, especially in those bottoms.

God, what is wrong with you? You cannot seriously be checking Jungkook’s ass out.

This time his hood his down, and you appreciate how fluffy his hair is starting to grow. You can’t help but wonder what it sme-

Woah.

Why are you thinking so much about Jungkook?

Truth be told, that scare he gave you just now opened your eye as to how much you actually care about him. Despite never really saying much to each other, you guess you’ve grown a sort of fondness for him that you didn’t realise you have. It’s only natural; you have known each other for close to a year now, and half of which was spent under the same roof. Of course you would worry for his well being, you tell yourself.

The kitchen fan must be blocking his hearing because he doesn’t sense your approach, he’s singing softly to himself. He’s got a lovely voice, both your roommates do. But whereas Jimin sings loudly and proudly, Jungkook only does so in the shower or when he doesn’t think anybody is listening.

When he notices you finally, you’re peering over his shoulder. He jumps. You jump. The chopsticks he’s using to stir the noodles fly out of his hands, clattering on the counter.

‘Oh jeez, you scared me.’ He picks up the chopsticks.

‘Sorry.’ You squeak and take a step back when you realise your proximity.

‘Haha…’ He chuckles nervously, embarrassed. ‘Noona, you like jajangmyeon, right?’

Do you like jajangmyeon? You live and breathe jajangmyeon. You can’t go a week without jajangmyeon. You’ve had it for breakfast, lunch and dinner before all in one day. Those noodles in that sauce… Mmm…

‘Yeah, they’re my favourite.’ Is all you say though, you figure he probably doesn’t care for a whole speech about your love for them. Surely he knows at this point, there isn’t a single day in this house where the ramen cupboard is devoid of jajangmyeon.

‘Great, I’m making you some.’

Oh. Jungkook is cooking for you. A warmth creeps into your cheeks, and you’re not sure why.

‘You don’t have to, Jungkook. Just cook for yourself, I’ll make myself dinner after you.’ But then your stomach chooses now to bellow aloud like a bullfrog traitorously. You look at him, abashed.

A smile is playing at his lips, though he’s trying not to show it.

‘Go sit down, noona. It’ll be ready in a second.’ His eyes are fixed on the bubbling water, chopsticks hauling up the softening noodles to check their texture. Though you’ve never tasted his cooking, you don’t doubt ramen mastery, so you nod compliantly.

The bags of shopping are half unpacked on the dining table, so you decide to finish sorting them out. He’s bought gimbap, bread, cheese, some salad, mostly food that doesn’t require cooking; you can tell he has thought ahead for the potential blackout.

Then something else in the bag catches your eye.

‘Dinner’s ready.’ Jungkook carries two bowls of brown noodles, garnished with sausage and cucumber, just the way you like it.

He sets the bowls opposite each other on the end of the table that’s not packed with groceries. This feels extremely weird and domestic. Although you live together, you don’t remember the last time you’ve had a meal together on this table, just the two of you without Jimin. Yet now, you’re about to eat jajangmyeon that he cooked for you, right across each other. Extremely weird.

‘Thank you so much for cooking, Jungkook.’ You bow your head at him politely and take a seat opposite him.

‘You’re welcome, noona.’ He also mirrors your action. You can kind of understand why it must be so annoying to Jimin how you’re so formal to each other, it must sound so forced and awkward.

Which is what this meal is going to be. Forced and Awkward.

Jungkook waits for you to take the first bite before digging, which you have to do so without rolling your eyes back and moaning out loud in satisfaction. Jajangmyeon tastes so flipping good! Your one and only true love.

You’re too focused on slurping down the noodles that you don’t notice him smiling fondly at the rare sight of you so blatantly excited.

The meal goes by quietly, neither of you are talkers to begin with, much less while eating. Whether it’s because it’s your favourite dish, or because it’s a freezing cold winter day, or even maybe because it’s Jungkook’s own cooking, the food tastes especially scrumptious.

‘This is delicious.’ Your eyes are practically glowing at him; he shys away from the praise by sipping on his can of coke. Who drinks coke in this weather? A smile stretches your lips at the oddity of this boy’s taste.

Jungkook mumbles a thanks, avoiding your eye as usual. But the jajangmyeon has put you in a good mood, you’re feeling rather chatty actually. ‘Also, Jungkook, I saw you bought-’ You dig into one of the grocery bags and pull out what you spotted earlier.

‘Oh yeah.’ Jungkook stares at the two-pack of fluffy socks in your hand, wearing a slightly mortified expression. ‘Um… I thought... you could do with some new ones.’

Surprised, your whole body tenses. You had thought he bought them for himself after seeing you wear yours so comfortably. All thought flaps away from your mind like a flock of frightened birds, leaving an empty field. He- Why- What do you-

‘Oh.’ Clearing your throat, you murmur. ‘Wow, thank you so much.’ Unable to look at him for any longer, your eyes fall onto your noodles. Your hand holding the socks drop onto the table at the weight of his kindness. Then a realisation creeps up on you. ‘Wait… They don’t sell these socks in supermarkets…’

Glancing up, you find him fiddling with his fingers nervously. ‘Uh. I went to another shop that does.’

Knots upon knots begin to tie in your stomach. So that’s why he took so long out there, not only did he have to find another supermarket that was open, he also searched for a store that sells fuzzy socks. For you.

Why do you feel so warm everywhere?

When you fall into a silent trance of your own thinking, Jungkook gets worried. ‘Noona, do you not like them? Did I get the wrong ones?’

‘No, no, no!’ You frantically dispute, forcing yourself to look at him. ‘These are perfect! I’m just surprised… and touched. That’s all. Jungkook, you really didn’t have to.’ The fabric of the socks feel heavenly to touch, your thumb sinks into the clouds of its softness. Truly, this has taken you by surprise and you don’t know how to react.

‘It’s okay…’ Redness blooms across his cheeks like drops of watercolour.

First he cooks you your favourite meal, then he buys you fuzzy socks? Is this the same Jungkook you’ve been living with all these months?

‘No, here…’ You rip open the card of the packet and snap the plastic wire that holds the four socks together. ‘Take a pair, I only need one anyway.’

At you waving the socks in front of him, he leans back in refusal, shaking his head and muttering a string of no no no’s. You’re not at all a strong-willed person by any means, but you’re not backing down on this, not when he’s been so lovely to you all night. When he realises that you won’t take no for an answer, he sighs, scratching the back of his ears. ‘Okay, okay. You can have the mint ones.’

One pair is mint and the other is pink. You blink. He wants the pink ones?

When he realises what must be going through your head, he quickly says, ‘Mint is your favourite colour right?’

Mint is your favourite colour. Though how does he know? All your possessions are in a variety of pastels: baby blue, cotton candy pink, mint green and lilac purple. He couldn’t have possibly guessed…?

‘Yes, it is… But I seriously don’t mind if you want the mint ones, I’m not gonna make you take the pink ones.’

‘No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.’ Jungkook snatches the pink fluffy socks from you before you can argue and stuff them onto his lap.

Your heart does a little thing that you can’t describe.

The two of you finish your dinner in silence, mirroring each other with one hand gripping the socks ever so tightly and the other hand picking up the noodles with your chopsticks. Awkwardly, Jungkook take a glimpse at you. A tiny smear of sauce stains the corner of your mouth.

Does he tell you? It would make it awkward though, wouldn’t it? But then again, it would be worse for you to find out yourself when you look in the mirror and think that he didn’t tell you you have sauce on your face.

‘Sauce.’ He accidentally says before he could finish formulating what he’s going to say to you. Shit. What’s wrong with him? Why did he say it like that? In response to your confused expression, he gestures dumbly at the corner of his own mouth.

Instantly a blush flames across the apples of your cheeks. You are about to wipe it away with your sleeve when you realise a second too late that you’re wearing a white sweater.

Your hand dangles a centimetre from your face, wrist caught in Jungkook’s fingers as he notices the mistake in your action before you. His whole body is leaned over the table in order to reach you. Wide eyes locked on each other, neither of you dare to move at his sudden outburst of motion towards you.

‘Um.’ He peeps. ‘Careful, I’ll do it, noona.’

Before you can register, he lets go of your arm allowing it to fall onto your lap. When his index knuckle brushes against the end of your mouth, a wave of shock zaps down your spine. Your heart lurches down an abyss at how soft his skin feels on your sensitive lips. Then his touch is gone, leaving a warmth tingling in his wake.

As he looks around for something to wipe his finger on, pupils round like a puppy, your eyes refuse to leave him. Thank you sits at the tip of your tongue but your throat is too clogged to utter a sound. The clockworks are trying to turn in your brain but all you can focus on is Jungkook.

How is he this nice, kind, gentle boy? And how have you completely missed this about him? In fact, why have you been so demure with him when he’s… an angel?

Watching his tongue poke at the inside of his cheek, a much scarier thought dawns on you.

Do you have a crush on Jungkook?

White screen glaring at you, the words of your unfinished essay frowns at your lack of attention in disapproval. You can’t write about Jane Austen’s exploration of feminism when Jungkook has overtaken your capacity to concentrate on anything other than him.

The radiator by your desk acts as your foot rest, blazing the pleasant heat up your legs. Ever few seconds, your eyes would wander to those mint green fuzzy socks you’re wearing, so brand new that its fluff caresses your toes like a flower bed. Just the thought that he went out of his way to replace your old hole-ridden pair…

Stop.

Jane Austen. Focus.

But the phantom touch of his finger sweeping across the plump of your bottom lip is etched on your skin, the picture of his doe eyes staring at your mouth refusing to leave your memory.

What has happened to you? How have you just swung from two extremes: from hardly able to speak a word to him without stuttering, to daydreaming about his kindness towards you?

The cold is making you delirious. It has to be this godforsaken cold, because why else would you all of a sudden be so flustered from the thought of Jungkook?

You take a long hard sip of your coffee, and mark it as a new leaf. From now on, no more thinking about anyone else other than Jane Austen. Pushing up your sleeves, you straighten your slouching back and face the monster of you assignment head on.

Not 5 minutes later, your desk lamp begins to flicker. You throw it a quick glance as your fingers type on your keyboard. Weird, you just changed the bulb a few weeks ago. Nevermind it.

Then all of a sudden, all the lights in your room go out. Frowning, you get up and try the switch several times to no avail. Peaking outside your room, all that greets you is a cold darkness. So you turn on the flashlight on your phone and try other light switches of the house. Nothing. Even the heat begins to seep away from the heaters as they dim to a cool. Oh no, right now?

Using your phone as a torch, you pad towards Jungkook’s room and open his door before you can remember to knock. Perhaps your anxiety has overridden your common sense and courtesy. Unfamiliar with the orientation of his room, you trail your side against the wall to guide you.

‘Jungkook? I think the power’s ou-’

Your phone shines onto a tall silhouette, illuminating a view that makes you shriek and stumble back.

There he is, standing with a white towel around his waist, beads of water splattered across his naked body and dripping rapidly out his wet slicked back hair. The swell of his biceps catch your attention first, lined with prominent veins running all the way down to his large hands placed on his hips. Which leads your gaze to the illustrious v of his hips that arch down to-

Without meaning to, your eyes travel down to this bulge. His hefty unmissable bulge. The towel protrudes out like a tiny hill, and you want to scream at it.

If you had a drink in your mouth right now, you would surely spit it out all over him and choke to your death. But you don’t, so all that comes out of you is a strangled cat noise. Looking away from that sinful area as quickly as you can, you arrive at his face - shocked, alarmed and confused. Your cheeks burning in the flames of hell, you spin away hastily to sprint out of his room in horror.

Except you run into the wall.

The impact hits your forehead and thankfully not your nose. Phone flung onto the ground with the light facing up, you fall onto you knees clutching at the eruption of pain. But nothing hurts more than your pride and image.

‘Noona!’ One hand securing the towel covering his manhood and preserving his dignity, he scrambles over to help you despite himself.

You flinch away at his hand on your shoulder because he is now right beside you. And it’s as if you’ve zoomed in too far on a picture because his nakedness is suddenly magnified 100x. You want to Ctrl Z yourself out of his room and back into your own desk. Because what. the. hell.

What the hell? What the hell? What the hell?

Transfixed on the ridges of this abdomen, you cannot focus on anything other than the way his muscles groove up and down so smoothly to form a six pack. Shadows casted by the flashlight sculpting more definition onto his marble chest. Goosebumps are raised on his blemishless skin, which you almost want to stroke away with your warmth.

‘I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.’ You chant cataleptically in a daze. It’s more for your own reassurance than his. His bare upper body needs to let you breathe.

‘Are you sure?’ His concern is apparent in his expression, eyes examining your entire face for your injury.

‘Yes, yes.’ Desperately wanting to shoo him away, you wince at the pulsing ache burgeoning in your forehead.

‘I’m sorry.’ You both say in unison, though neither of you understand why the other is apologising.

Though he seems abashed about being shirtless, his humiliation comes nowhere near your level. Why isn’t he scrambling to put a shirt on?

To be fair Jungkook does seem awfully self conscious, you’ve caught him looking down at himself for about the fifteenth time now as he helps you up to your feet.

‘I’ll let you get dressed, sorry.’ Is all you say after snatching your phone off the ground, not even bothering to check for a cracked screen, before making your timely escape. This time more successful than the last.

Clutching your throbbing head, you race to your room and catapult onto your bed. The picture of a wet, shirtless Jungkook with only a towel to shield you from his crotch is now ingrained in your mind. You think shutting your eyes will help but you still see his divine abs behind your lids.

Holy shit.

What perhaps scares you more is how attracted you are to him. Since when did you find your roommate hot? This is shy, quiet Jungkook who plays overwatch until 4am. How dare he have a Greek God’s body to confuse you like this?

You need to stop thinking about his naked body right now.

Instead you check outside your window to see that the streetlights are off as well; it must be a blackout across the whole town, if not city. Without heating, the cold air begins to harshly sting your exposed skin. Panic starts to fester in your chest. How long can you last with no electricity whatsoever? You don’t even have phone signal, or something to charge your phone with except the one portable charger that may or may not be dead right now.

Though your door is wide open, Jungkook knocks on it politely outside your room. Which is what you should’ve done with him, you mentally scold yourself. Though he is now dressed in an oversized hoodie, your image of him is forever changed after seeing him fresh out the shower, hair still dripping. You blink hard in attempt to rid that thought.

‘Hi…’ He whispers. He’s holding two burning candles against his chest, their flames lighting up the underside of his sharp jaw.

‘Hi, come in.’

You can sense his hesitancy, the unease in the air between you, when he enters your room gingerly, feet clad in those pink fuzzy socks.

‘Sorry-’ You both say at the same time again, then release a breath of laughter. Mirth twinkles in his eyes, though his shyness does not stray from him.

‘I’m sorry for barging into your room like that.’ It’s an effort not to glance down at his adorable socks. ‘That was completely my fault, so don’t apologise.’

He swallows. ‘It’s okay, noona.’

His eyes hold yours for a solid moment before dispersing. A familiar blush is starting to paint your cheeks, you feel the heat from your chest blare up to your entire face. Unable to help imagining those solid muscles underneath his clothes, you tug at the hem of your sweater.

‘So,’ Jungkook places one of the candles on your desk. ‘This is for you.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Instead of using the flashlight of your phone, use the candle or one of the torches I’ve put on the table outside to save your battery. I’ve checked the main fuse, it isn’t switching back on. Good thing is that we still have running water and plumbing, just no heating or any electricity.’ He glances at your own socks. ‘We need to use the water sparingly though or the reservoir will run out. From the shops, I’ve bought some food that we can eat without cooking like gimbap or sandwiches. There’s also a stash of hand warmers in the drawer of the TV stand if you’re cold.’

That’s a lot of words to come out of Jungkook’s mouth in one go, all spoken to you. What he’s saying is sinking in and relief washes over you, yet you can’t help but focus your attention on the way his lips move as he speaks. The dark red gleaming with lip balm, curving over each syllable so prettily.

‘That’s great, thank you.’ You finally snap out of it. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’ That last sentence slips out of you before you could stop it.

Pupils widening a fraction, Jungkook’s lips part in reaction. Why did you tell him that? Maybe you should just lock yourself in your room after continuously embarrassing yourself tonight. But then he pulls into a smile that melts away the ice that’s numbing your limbs and burning your lungs. The front of his teeth slightly jutting out sweetly.

Again, a fondness tickles your chest.

‘Me too.’ The tingle spreads into a pulse that crushes your throat. Is that why they call it a crush?

You simply cannot suppress your own growing grin.

Jungkook begins to walk away, but then stops at your door and turns back. There’s a reluctance, an uncertainty to his slow movement as he faces you.

‘If… If you get too cold without the radiator… you can…’ His voice barely a husk. ‘You can come over to mine.’

Then he’s gone. The aura lit up by his candle gradually diminishes away from you as he walks down the hallway to his room.

Frozen in place, you’re not even sure if your heart is beating anymore. Those final words ring in your ear like wind chimes.

You can come over to mine.

Does he mean what you think he means? Is he offering to keep you warm during the night?

You watch the candle he’d placed on your desk, its flame mirroring the small fire kindling in your core for the boy who went out during a blizzard to buy you fuzzy socks so your feet don’t get cold.

On the other side of the wall, Jungkook is on the verge of combustion at his bold proposition to you, red burning the tips of his ears. Though the memory of the look of pure euphoria on your face when you took your first bite of jajangmyeon burns his heart hotter yet.

The cold is brutal and shows no mercy. Despite your tossing and turning and effort to warm yourself up, sleep does not grace you. Part of the blame goes to Jungkook, you have not been able to cease thinking about him and everything he has done tonight. It makes you reflect on all your past moments together, whether he has always been like this and you were only too closed off to pay heed.

Sitting up from your bed, you decide you won’t be able to fall asleep without extra warmth. You need hand warmers stuffed down your pyjamas.

So, muscles stiff from the cold, you clamber out the little warm burrow of your covers and head for the living room, forsaking any light since your vision has adapted to the dark. On your way there, you walk past Jungkook’s room. Without knowing why, your legs betray you and stop outside his door.

You can come over to mine.

The low rasp of his voice still echoes in your head, stirring your unwarranted feelings for him into a warm pot of honey.

Had he really meant it? Did he honestly invite you to his share his bed? Surely not - this is Jeon Jungkook you’re thinking of, he doesn’t even speak to you most days, can’t not cower away from your glare. And he also knows what you’re like, how it took you two whole months to even warm to all of Jimin’s friends, how you only recently stopped using honorifics with those older than you.

And surely he must be at least mildly aware of the lack of boys and romance in your life, living just down the hall from you. Jimin is the closest male friend you have, and even so, you aren’t completely comfortable with sleeping beside him.

But then… All that has transpired about Jungkook’s character tonight, how sweet and kind and thoughtful he is which completely falls outside your predictions of the boy…

You realise you want to know more, want to explore the depths and mysteries that is your strange roommate. This intangible force that has been building up in the mere hours you’ve spent together this cold winter’s night draws you to him.

So screw those hand warmers, they last way too short anyway. Who needs those fidgety packets when there’s a whole Jeon Jungkook next door?

Gathering all the courage you can muster, you knock on his door.

The wood sends tendrils of cold into your knuckles. There’s a pause at first which leaves you thinking that he’s asleep, and to be fair, this late at night he has every reason to be. You’re about to turn away and head forth down the hall when you hear sheets moving, followed by his muffled come in.

Timidly, you step into his room, mind still fresh with the memory of what had happened last time you entered here unannounced, mere hours ago. Let’s not think about that right now, shall we?

Jungkook is sat up in his bed, black hood engulfing half his head. A single scented candle lit on his bedside table beside him illuminates the whole room into a golden ochre hue, it smells of freshly washed sheets.

‘Hi…’ You peep out, stopping in front of his bed.

‘Everything ok, noona?’ His eyes are fixed on your face in wonder, but when you meet them, they dart to your socks.

‘Um, yes.’ How do you put this? How do you formulate those words? ‘I just… It’s absolutely freezing with the radiators not working. Maybe- D-’ You exhale shakily. He’s gaze slowly crawls back up to your face as he realises where you’re going with this. ‘You know how you suggested that we should… sleep tog- on the same bed… to keep each other warm…? Well...’

Jungkook blinks at you. For a heartbeat, all you want to do is curl up into a ball and roll out of here. You couldn’t even finish what you were saying because your jaw has simply refused to move, refused to let you carry on embarrass yourself.

Then, although he was already on one side of the bed, he scooches over to the left. He doesn’t look at you when he replies, ‘Of course.’

Your heart is pumping fast, almost making you choke on your constricting throat. Warily you clamber onto his bed, but stop when only your knee is on the mattress. The bed frame creaks. Jungkook is regarding you with an unreadable expression, nibbling on his bottom lip. ‘Wait, if this is weird, just tell me to go.’

‘N-No. It’s fine.’ Pulling the covers over his chest, he crosses his arms shyly. There’s a pink tint to his cheeks, though you could be mistaken due to the odd lighting. ‘I was struggling to fall asleep from the cold as well.’ He adds when you don’t seem convinced.

Both of you are making this a bigger deal than it actually is, you are fully aware. It honestly pains you how awkward you two are with each other; if this were Jimin, he’d be dragging you onto his bed by the waist, letting you flounder about in his arms like a cat trying to escape before smothering you with his affection. But this is Jungkook. Quiet, shy, awkward Jungkook. Jungkook who hasn’t spoken more than ten words a day to you before the events of tonight even though you live together. Jungkook who you’re slowly learning more and more about during this blizzard.

Plus, he was the one who offered to share his bed earlier in the first place. This is fine, just fine. Act normal.

Overly conscious of how he’s watching your every movement carefully, you slowly burrow into the comfort of his bed. Immediately you’re enveloped in his residual body heat under the duvet. Now you realise that he moved over to the other side of the bed, the cold side, so you can relish in the warmth that he’s been collecting under these covers.

Why is Jungkook so… considerate?

Again, the same fuzzy feeling as before tugs at your heartstrings. Suddenly you want to reach out to him, but instead, you tug at your sleeves.

You’re both staring at the blank ceiling as if it is some fascinating art piece, with enough space between you to fit a Jimin. The candle has casted long grey shadows across the room, occasionally flickering haphazardly.

Everything that is currently whizzing through your head is driving you insane. This is actually happening. You are sharing a bed with Jungkook, the guy who you can’t even look in the eye when speaking to, your roommate who has only ever tried to avoid you. This day is a jack-in-the-box of Jungkook-themed surprises. What’s going to be next?

‘Feeling warmer, noona?’ He breaks the silence first, and you can’t help but glance over at him. His side profile is mostly masked by his hood, yet you can still see his jaw clenching. You can only imagine how uneasy he is currently feeling.

‘Yes.’ It’s barely a whisper you manage, so you clear your throat. ‘Much better Jungkook, thank you.’

Another silence. Though this is an improvement from before, you still feel a chill in your bones; the cold is a resilient pest that aches your muscles and numbs your face.

‘Should I blow out the candle then?’ You ask.

‘Oh right, yeah.’

You huff at the small flame but it refuses to go out, and you kind of don’t want it to as it provides a strong beacon of heat as its smoke licks at your face. You huff again. Still, it only wavers. You’re so cold that you don’t even have the strength to take out a candle. Peaking over at Jungkook, his eyes are locked on you patiently.

‘I’ll do it.’ He leans across the bed over you, you feel his warmth radiate into your proximity as his should hovers over your face. His scent, a clean soft musk, swims up your nose; you never noticed how pleasant he smells. The veins on his neck are protruding as he strains to reach over. When he extinguishes the candle with a single harsh blow, embarrassment rains on you.

Darkness enshrouds you two. As he returns to his position, you notice that he’s closer to you than before, now only less than a foot away. The sound of his breathing provides a steady rhythm that soothes your wild thoughts.

Though your social skills are subpar by nature, Jungkook has a way of magnifying your awkwardness. Should you say something? Good night? Thank him again?

Then you realise, he’s shivering. Of course, his hair must still be wet from his unfinished shower that was cut short by the blackout. God, he must be freezing.

‘You’re cold.’ You state, though you mean it more as a question.

‘I’m fine.’ Hums his response, yet his inhale is shaky.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you know what you’re going to do next is completely out of character and will require more guts than you actually possess. Your hand gropes at the space between you until you find his hand. It’s ice cold. Jungkook jumps at the contact and you hear him turn his head towards you. You hope his sight hasn’t adjusted to the dark yet so he can’t see how abashed you are.

‘You’re not fine.’ His fingers are stiff when you interlock yours between his. Everything is screaming inside you. What are you doing? What the heck? If Jimin were here to see this his jaw would drop all the way down to hell.

Unable to suppress the urge either, you also turn to look at him. In the dark, you can barely make out the outline of his face, the shape of his glossy eyes reflecting the moonlight seeping in through the window. Slowly, his fingers curl up around your hand. Your heart flips.

Blood roaring in your ears, you inch towards him like a frightened deer until your sides are pressed against each other. Your faces must be a hand’s width apart, but the darkness fuels you with a brazenness that allows you to not cringe away. His whole body tenses in response.

‘Better?’ Voice so soft he strains to hear you.

Jungkook nods, eyes never leaving yours. ‘Better.’ His response rumbles into your ear and percolate into your mind, and only now are you aware of how close he is.

An amalgamation of unidentifiable emotions stir inside you. You feel your own warmth trickle towards him as his does with you, and slowly his presence plucks away the cold you are plagued with.

‘Good night, Jungkook.’

‘Good night, Y/N noona.’

Though it’s only briefest of movements, you feel his thumb stroke over yours once, twice, as your eyelids fall shut.

The next morning, you wake up first with your head fitted cosily on his heavily breathing chest, his arm draped across your shoulder, shielding you from the chilly morning air.

The power still isn’t back on.

It’s now nearing 24 hours since the blackout first hit.

You’ve wasted the day wandering about the house, unsure of what to do with yourself. Though you tell yourself it’s the withdrawal symptoms from the internet, it’s mostly due to the fact that you slept next to Jungkook last night.

The earlier half of the day was spent subtly avoiding him because what the hell are you supposed to say to him? Do you just carry on your usual selves around each other or are you, like, friends now? You caught yourself watching him sleep this morning, serene breaths in and out through his nose. There’s a tiny mole under his lips that you’ve never noticed before. You had poked it with your pinky before you could stop yourself. And thankfully he’s a heavy sleeper, he didn’t even stir.

With more effort than you thought would require, you pried yourself out of his arms, a cold breeze instantly welcoming you in an embrace as you left his bed.

Those scenes keep replaying in your head: him finding you out in the blizzard, watching him cook you jajangmyeon, discovering that he when out of his way to buy you new sock, then walking in on him almost stark naked from the shower, and finally, falling asleep enveloped in his warm and scent.

You’re definitely crushing on him.

You’ve stopped denying it when you saw him meander wearily out his room at noon, bed head ruffled, eyes still droopy from sleep. Wordlessly, you had passed him the ham and cheese sandwich you prepared for yourself and you don’t even know why because you were absolutely starving.

The downpour of snow only stopped for a good 10 minutes this afternoon, a tiny window in which you poked your head out for some fresh air. Jungkook had tried to shovel away some snow to clear the porch, but quickly ran back inside when he saw your worried face plastered to the window watching him.

There isn’t much either of you can do with no electricity, no internet, no television, trapped indoors. So you occupy your day curled up on the couch, nose buried in a novel, completely immersed in that beautifully crafted fictional world.

Until Jungkook walks out in a white t-shirt and shorts.

Your eyebrow raises, peeking at him from behind the pages.

‘I’m gonna work out here, if you don’t mind. There isn’t enough space in my room.’ He scratches the back of his head.

‘Sure.’ You exhale, knowing your demise is looming over your head like a storm cloud. A lot of self control is exercised in order to not ogle at his calves.

Training your eyes at the novel in front of you with great determination, you turn the page. The first minute is easy enough, you just have to angle your book to block your view of him. But then his breathing grows heavier, panting every rep. At that, you can’t help but glimpse past the corner of your page.

Oh Lord. He’s doing push ups.

Though his biceps are mostly covered by his sleeves, the muscles of his forearms tensing at every contraction catch you eye. You marvel at the way his tendons flex out, and the way his serpentine of veins snake down his hands.

Jeez.

Then he lets out an unholy grunt, setting your whole skin on aflame. Scarlet stains your cheeks, you’re sure of it. But the sinful sounds do not stop. Sweat his now seeping through his shirt, rendering the material transparent down his back. And his ass…

You snap your focus back to your novel.

Just in time as well because he stops onto his knees, head falling back as he sits on his ankles, panting. His neck is shimmering with his perspiration, droplets trickling down like a brook.

Jungkook glances over at you to see you reading intently, jaw clenched from what he guesses is due to the excitement of the plot.

But then you stand up so abruptly that it startles him. You can’t sit here and spy on his workout any longer, you physically cannot take it. Not to mention, it makes you feel so awful, like you’re perving on the poor clueless boy who only wants to break a sweat.

The both of you just stare at each other, flustered for different reasons. His breathing slows.

‘I’m gonna-’ You don’t know where you’re going with the sentence. Gulp. ‘Uh, see you later.’

Scampering away into your room, you don’t wait for his response. Why are you panting heavier than he is when he’s the one exercising? Your book is pressed tightly against your pounding chest as you lean your back on your door. Your legs give way and you slowly slide down onto the cool floor.

There’s one thing you know for sure.

Jeon Jungkook is not good for your heart.

It’s almost midnight and Jungkook is standing outside your door. Fist clenched, inches away from rapping on the wood, but completely frozen in action.

Just do it, idiot. He scolds himself.

After an ice cold post-workout shower, this time early enough so he doesn’t have to sleep with wet hair, you both had gimbap for dinner. It was an excruciatingly silent meal which he blames himself for, though he can’t help the way his tongue gets tied every time he wishes to speak to you.

And now, bed time, he is at a dilemma of whether or not to ask to sleep with you again. It may come across as too forward coming from a guy, he doesn’t want to scare you. But he also knows that he will be missing the warmth of your body beside him if he goes to bed alone.

Jungkook sighs and lets his hanging hand fall to his side.

If you wanted to, you would have gone to his room anyway. Might as well save the awkward rejection and just take this as a no.

However, your door suddenly swings open. He’s confronted with a pyjama-wearing, baby-faced you, flinching back a step at the surprising sight of him.

‘Op- I was just....’ His sentence falls flat. He was just what?

‘I was just coming to find you.’ You mutter, eyes softening if he isn’t mistaken. A flood of relief rushes at him, so you were planning on coming to him tonight.

Wordlessly, you pad after him to his room. Everything is dark but you see his figure clearly in front of you. It gives you a false sense of confidence which leads you to trip over his charger wire you so clumsily missed.

You don’t know how he reacts so quickly to your yelp of distress, but he turns around in time to catch your outstretched arms by the elbows. ‘Watch out.’ Feet fumbling over each other, he stumbles back onto his bed as you fall onto him. The weight of your bodies sink down onto the mattress.

Hard muscle cushions your fall. Chests pressed against each other, you don’t realise your hands have instinctively circled around his shoulders for balance. Your nose is touching his fabric of his collar, his musk instantly overriding your senses. When you look up, his eyes are a crystal clear pool somehow reflecting the constellations of the night sky in this darkness. His breath caresses your forehead. Your gaze drops to his mouth, pink and parted.

You want to kiss him, you realise. So badly. Every fibre of your being is currently yearning to meet his lips, longing to know whether he tastes better than he smells.

But then your limbs are moving for you, propping yourself up and off him. Your own mouth forms and quiet ‘sorry’ as you shuffle under the sheets. It’s as if you’re watching your own actions through your eyes, controlled by your logic rather than desire. You couldn’t let yourself kiss him.

Jungkook silently squirms into his bed beside you, unwilling to look your direction as much as you’re averse to his.

So this is how it’s going to be again. Two sleeping logs next to each other.

There’s an ache of regret in your heart for being so timid. Annoyance at yourself drips down your throat, fist clenching at the sheets. You should’ve kissed him right then and there, consequences be damned. When will you get another chance? But perhaps it was fate. You have no idea how he would’ve reacted; the pessimist in you thinks he would’ve been disgusted. Yes, it was fate. It was right not to have kissed him.

Wait, no. A boldness suddenly pours down on you. Shyness and introversion has gotten you nowhere before, and it will not help your situation now.

‘Jungkook.’ Your voice comes out crisp and clear.

‘Hm, Noona?’

‘I’m still cold.’ Turning to face him, you see innocent confusion settle in his expression. The sound of your thumping pulse has reached your ears, your heart is a speeding motor flying off to find him. ‘Come closer.’

The shadow of his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. His focus does not stray from you as he slides across the bed hesitantly.

‘Closer.’

He edges further towards you. You can now just about make out the shape of the scar that flecks his left cheek.

‘Closer.’

This time, his exhale tickles your neck. Warm bodies touching, confusion and perturbation cloud his glassy orbs as he scans your face for an answer to the plethora of questions swimming in his head.

‘Thank you.’ You breathe, though it feels like no air is entering you. You can’t believe what you’re doing. This close to him, you’re entire being bathes in his presence, his aura; a familiar tingling ails your soul as your eyes flicker to his lips.

Every single muscle in Jungkook is frozen in shock, unsure of what is going on and why the sudden change in your demeanour towards him. And when you turn onto your side away from him and inch by inch back your body onto his front, his heart

stops

beating.

Nose buried in your floral-scented hair, vacillating thoughts tell him to put his arm around your waist and hold you close to him. You sense his unsureness in the way his hand rests on your side and pauses for too long before pulling you into his chest.

His frame engulf yours, the curve of your back lining perfectly with his. You feel safe, protected. His furnace touch on your waist burns through the thick fabric of your jumper and seeps into your core. The effect he has on you is nothing you’ve ever experienced before, and neither have you ever been in this position with anyone. Although it isn’t much, merely just cuddling, this feels so remarkably intimate and intense, like you’ve finally stepped through a threshold built into the emotional wall that towers between you and him.

You’re not entirely sure if you’re breathing.

Despite being the one to instigate this, you’re awfully apprehensive, not daring to even twitch incase it rattles him and sets him scrambling away. The two of you are like a pair of squirrels, slowly approaching to sniff each other, curious yet easily frightened.

His hot breath rushes down your spine like smoke. You desperately want to know what he’s thinking. Is he as nervous as you? Do you feel comfortable to him as he does to you? Or is he already falling asleep?

You should close your eyes and try to. Though who are you kidding? You’d never manage to catch a wink when you’re an accidental turn of a face away from kissing him, at least not right away anyway, not until you calm yourself down with a mental meditation exercise or something.

The urge to check if he’s indeed asleep is yanking at you, but you use all your willpower to resist, not wanting to risk rousing him when he’s as skittish as you.

But then you feel it.

Him.

It’s subtle at first, just a gentle pressure at your bottom.

Innocent and untainted as you are, you don’t even realise what it is at first, so you shift your hips unconsciously.

Then it’s stiffness grows, and grows, until it’s a baton poking at your rear.

Something in your core ignites, your chest constricts, and a wildfire of lust you’ve never felt before smoulders from your scalp to your toes before finally rooting itself in your sex. Ten hells, Jungkook’s boner is touching your ass. Jungkook has a boner and it’s touching your ass. Jungkook has a boner because of you and it’s touching your ass.

Your brain is devoid of all senses except a formidable hunger for him. Suddenly, though he’s almost surrounding you completely, the only thing you can feel is his hard member prodding you.

Is he asleep or not, you need to know.

Then a strange force possesses your lower half, and like a puppet on a string, your ass sinks back further onto him until his length is tunnelled between your cheeks.

The softest moan escapes him, almost a gasp even.

You think he’s going to say something, move away or stand up and leave. Instead he pulls himself away and slowly thrusts forward again. His clothed length slides smoothly up your crack, brushing ever so slightly over your slit. It sends a wave of arousal convulsing up your core, so powerful you almost choke.

Continuing to encourage him, your hips move in tandem with his, rubbing your ass all over his pulsing erection, occasionally letting it slide between your thighs against your clit. A pleasured mewl escapes, though you’re not sure who from. You’ve never felt anything like this, the ruin that overtakes your core at the friction. This is a divine sensation, luxury of the gods.

Jungkook’s fingers dig into your waist as his pace increases, his breathing slowly shifting into wavering panting. Finally you succumb to the urge to twist around to look at him. Your heart erupts at the pure devastation contorting his face. His brows angled in pleasure, teeth clamped down on his lip to suppress those unholy noises, lids hanging heavy at the weight of his thirst for you. When his eyes lock on yours, something unleashes in him and devours you wholly.

Fire and ice. His lips feel like both fire and ice. Fire because your entire mind is burning at his smoothness, fuelled by your unkempt want for him to take over you. Ice because everything that isn’t him feels numb and insignificant, and your feelings for this man holding you is the purest flake of snow.

Your first kiss, and it’s already the best kiss you’ll ever have, you’re sure. Because the way his lips meld onto your, the desperation in the way he leans so far into you, the heat of his arousal forging it’s mark between your legs. Nothing in this world can top that.

‘Noona.’ He sighs into you. It drives you absolutely insane.

Fingers grappling in his wavy locks, you reposition yourself completely to face him. His length twitches against you as your leg swings behind him to pull him closer. He is holding your neck with a heartbreaking delicacy, thumb stroking your jaw like it’s the most fragile of chinas.

‘Jung-’ You whimper. ‘Koo…’

Tasting of mint, his tongue gently laps at yours when you open for him. You’re drowning in his essence, lungs filling with his air, though you welcome your sweet painless death like it’s a heavenly gift.

Knowing his docile nature, you move his hand underneath your top, giving him permission to roam freely on your skin. He snakes around your back and circles around your front before finally meeting your sore breasts. As he kneads them tenderly, you feel a warmth ooze out of you into a puddle of concupiscence in your pants.

Oh God.

Your own hands wander beneath his hoodie, raking up the bumps of his god-sculpted abdomen and taking hold of his muscular chest. His wet kisses are a drug, and you’re completely and utterly under its control.

‘Jungkook, I want you.’ You moan.

When his eyes fly open, you’re met with pools of desire, seething into you like jets of lust. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d experience him like this, covetous for you and withering under your touch.

‘Noona… Fuck.’ He trembles as your hand travels down his navel, daring to slide under the band of his sweatpants. ‘I want you so bad, noona.’

The whimper that leaves his mouth when you palm him through his boxers sends a flood of yearning down to your core.

Holy shit.

He feels…

Massive.

Heavy with girth, only about half of his length fits in your palm. You have to stretch your fingers in order to fully encompass him. He is fully at your disposal, groaning, grip tightening on you.

As he huffs into the edge of your jaw, his own hand comes down to find your pussy pulsing for his touch. When his touches your clothed slit, a compulsion forces your hips to buckle forwards. And when he begins to rub circles right on that tender spot, waves upon waves of ecstasy hit you.

Whining like an animal, your head falls back at the newfound pleasure he’s showing you. With you neck presented so openly to him like a platter of dessert, he plants dulcet kisses onto you, his gentleness kindling your fire for him. Despite your attempt to wind your focus back to him, your grip on his erection slackens at his vibrations on your cunt.

‘Can I?’ Jungkook whispers into your ear, softness tickling your lobe. You don’t waste a second before nodding eagerly.

Then his fingers slide underneath your panties. Sensitivity explodes at the contact between the pad of his thumb and your clit. A string of moans release from you. His fingers stroke tactfully up your slick, lubricated by your wetness for him. And when he slides his digit into you, the thread that holds your soul to sanity snaps.

‘Oh my god.’ He pushes through the sleek pressure of your walls. ‘Jungkook.’ The whimper of his name rolling off your tongue sends a rush of blood down to his aching cock.

‘Noona, is that okay?’ The genuity in his voice squeezes your heart.

‘Yes, it feels so, argh, good.’

He latches his lips onto your neck and sucks clouds of lavender to your smooth seamless sky. His finger is slowly pumping in and out. It is a foreign feeling, so strange and unfamiliar, yet all the more exciting. The rise of his knuckles hit your wall at eye-rolling angles. Your hips roll in his rhythm to help him reach newer depths. The pleasure is unforgiving, relentless.

Another feeling gnaws at your chest, a longing to please him.

‘I want to make you feel good, Jungkook.’ You mumble, shy.

He looks up at you, finger gradually ceasing its movement. The pure passion alit in his eyes drives you thrumming for him.

‘O-Okay.’

‘You… You have to teach me though.’ Redness flushes your cheeks.

‘Okay.’ He says again, and you wonder if you’ve broken him at the way he’s frozen.

Sheepishly tugging down his pants, you inch yourself down and settle between his legs, the duvet rested upon your shoulders. He bobs free from the restraint of his apparel.

Your eyes bulge at his cock that is, despite the darkness, standing tall and proud, beaming at you. How is that monster going to fit inside you?

A strong vein runs down the course of his length. Angry red tip swollen and trickling with a clear liquid. You look up to find him staring helplessly down at you, gulping. A nervous fear is eating away at your throat; you’ve never done this before, how are you supposed to know how right now?

‘Teach me.’ Your fingers come around the base of his shaft and he gasps audibly.

‘Uh-’ Another gulp. ‘Lick the tip.’

You lick the tip. Drawing your tongue over his engorged head, tasting his salty precum that continues to leak out of him profusely. He curses.

‘Like that?’ Your mouth doesn’t leave him as you say.

‘Mhmm.’ He runs his hand through his dark locks in exasperation. ‘Suck on it gently.’

You suck on it gently. Lips wrapped around his tip like a vacuum while you breath him in. Your cheeks hollow. You look up at him for approval. One eye is clamped shut, the other is barely held open to witness the most seraphic scene.

‘Fuck, noona, like this.’

You try to take in more, letting his wide cock slide into your mouth, careful not to scrape your teeth against his hilt. When he hits the back of your throat, you gag and splutter around him. Embarrassment shoots at you, yet when you glance up, he doesn’t seem to care.

Instead, he brushes your hair behind your ear and coos, ‘Careful, noona.’ He’s so sweet, so dear, you feel a crack in your heart.

So you try again, this time slower, swallowing as much of him as you can. Your hand swirl around his shaft while his massages the back of your scalp. You roll your tongue around his head every time you come up, flickering at his slit. Soon, your pace increases along with your confidence. Jungkook is a mess under you, thighs quivering, toes curling. Humming in satisfaction, your vibrations resonate into his dick and he yelps.

‘Noona, stop before I cum.’ The way he pleads sends your cunt throbbing. You pull his member out of your mouth almost obscenely, inhaling sharply for air.

He gently places you on your back, finger tracing your drenched lips in endearment. ‘Was that ok?’

‘That was perfect, noona. Are you sure that was your first time?’ Doe eyes wide in awe of you. You giggle and nod, glowing in timid pride. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

At that, the reality of this situation hits you. This is happening, this is actually happening. You’re going to have sex for the first time. With Jungkook.

Are you sure you want to do this?

You are sure you want to do this. If not with him, then no one else.

‘Yes.’ You state firmly, eyes never once wavering from his.

His gaze on you is so soft, yet so intense, you want to melt under him. ‘Okay. I- I need to go find a condom in Jimin’s room.’

Fuzzy with your feelings for him, you watch him scramble off in the dark to the other room. Loud clangs echo down the hall, you can’t help but smile at the thought of him digging through Jimin’s pig sty, frantically searching with his rock hard cock.

Jungkook returns moments later to the sight of you completely naked on his bed. Gaping like a little boy, he almost falls onto you as he climbs onto the bed while he tears off his own top. For a minute, you two just stare at each other’s bodies, allowing the beauty to sink in and etch itself forever in your souls.

‘Noona, you’re so beautiful. Do you know that?’ He leans over to kiss all over your face.

A warm prickle sieges your heart. No one has ever called you beautiful before. Emotion floods you like an ocean, and you’re suddenly met with a familiar sting behind your eyes.

He hovers over your lips, nose rubbing on yours so lovingly you want to cry. You’re at a loss for words, so you just nod, not daring to peep a sound lest a tear escapes from you.

His hands are shaking as he rolls on the condom. Prudently, he kisses up your inner thighs before spreading them open with care. Finally, he pecks the top of your flower fondly.

Then slowly he rests his elbow beside your head and situate himself between your legs. Both your breaths are wobbly, you search his face for security and find it. His irises reflect his galaxy - you. And your fear ebbs away.

Stroking his tip along your wetness, he kisses the shell of your ear. ‘Are you really really sure?’

‘Yes, Jungkook.’ Your fingers entangle in his hair assuringly.

‘Tell me to stop if it hurts a lot. Promise, noona?’ His concern is heart wrenching.

‘Promise.’ You whisper, other hand locking with his.

Only then does he begin to ease into you. At first you don’t feel much, just his tip diving into you. Then the rest of his length pushes in, plunging through a tremendous pressure built into your walls. Pain blooms inside you as he enters deeper and deeper, it’s an ache that you anticipated but never imagined. You both cry out, though for different reasons.

‘Are you okay?’ You can tell he’s struggling to stay still, shoulders tensing at the temptation to thrust again.

‘Mhmm.’ You manage to gripe. Because despite the blinding pain, you are okay.

‘I’m gonna go as slow as I can.’ He ensures you, fingers tightening around yours.

When he plunges into you again, you expect the hurt to lessen, but it doesn’t. It overwhelms your whole body, yanking inside you. Though, every time he kisses your lips so tenderly, your forget the soreness he’s impaling into you for a fresh second. Opening your eyes, you see him panting at your tightness, trying with every muscle in his body not to go wild at you.

‘Fuck, noona.’ He exhales, forehead rested on yours.

Seeing him so berserk with pleasure calms your running anxiety. His thrusts inevitably quickens, and you just about begin to see pass the pain. Behind the ache, there’s a gratifying sting clenching your walls. The slap of his hips against your thighs ring loud.

‘Still okay?’ Jungkook asks again, worry painting his face at your silence.

‘Yes, you can go faster.’ You answer despite the ever-present soreness. When he drives hard into you, stars and tears blurring your vision.

Something in him snaps as you feel him twitch inside you. His movements grow sloppy and feral, just like the grunts that he heaves. Chasing his climax, you can tell how close he is to his sweet release.

‘Oh- Noona, I’m so cl-ose.’ He’s whimpering into your neck.

‘Jungkook, baby. Come for me.’

At your name for him, he goes crazy, ramming into you with a strength and stamina that you couldn’t expect less of from him. ‘Noona…’ He begs. The pressure inside you is easing, pain dulling, though you know you won’t feel any pleasure this time round.

Then, in one last powerful push, he ejects into you with a loud cry. You pull his lips to yours immediately to soothe his euphoria. This look of pure pleasure on his face rips you to shred as he refuses to let go of your hand. His hips jerk into yours to ride out is high as his whole body deflates onto you.

Although it’s a freezing night, goosebump plaguing both your skins, neither of you feel cold. Instead, you are enshrouded by the warmth of your passion and desire, all you feel is each other.

You, wrapped tightly around him, and him, spasming inside you.

Heavy with exhaustion, he nuzzles up to kiss you. Long, slow and hard. You have never truly appreciated his beauty until this point, under the subtle snow-clouded moon, eyes boring into you with a never-dimming glow of adoration.

Jungkook removes himself from you, hastily disposing the condom to not miss a moment by your side. Dressing you first so you don’t catch a breeze of cold, his touch feels so much warmer, gentler.

Snuggled up under the covers, he holds you so close to him that you hear his beating heart. For a timeless passage, you stare into each other wordlessly, fingers tracing delicately over every patch of skin.

‘Y/N...’ He muses out loud. ‘Y/N… You don’t know how perfect you are…’

Again, he has rendered you speechless.

Caressing your cheek in his palm, he continues. ‘I wish you could see yourself through my eyes because then you would understand why I’m so completely in love with you.’

At his words, your throat constrict. ‘What?’ You choke out.

‘I’m in love with you, noona.’ His lips are trembling, chest pounding against you. Disquietude emanates from how he’s peering at you.

‘Oh.’

‘I don’t know how you never knew, I mean- I guess it’s pretty obvious from the way I act around you. Even Yoongi-hyung spotted it right away…’ He begins to ramble, focus hopping to the collar of your jumper that he’s toying with. ‘I just… I don’t know. There’s something so special about you that I can’t find in anyone else. I thought it was just a crush but... but then you moved in with us and… And my feelings for you just drove me insane. That’s why I kept trying to avoid you. I know I wouldn’t be able to hide it if I actually spent time with you, I’m kinda stupid when it comes to girls if you can’t tell already.

‘But the truth is,’ he takes a deep breath and sighs, ‘I am truly, deeply, madly in love with you, Y/N noona. Everything about you. The way you devour jajangmyeon as easily as breathing. The way you never go a day in winter without wearing these fuzzy socks. The way you only drink lattes and chamomile tea. The way you would rather spend your friday nights curled up with a book. The way you pretend to find Jimin annoying but secretly love the attention he gives you. The way you rushed out to find me in the snow and forgot the bring your keys. And the way you can’t talk to me without stuttering just like how I can’t look you in the eye when we have a conversation.

‘I know this is a lot to spring onto you, and I don’t expect you to love me back at all. But just know that I’m here for you whenever you need. I’m your furnace in a snowstorm, hand warmer in a blizzard. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same for me, I’ll still be here.’

Jungkook finishes with a final huff.

You stare at him, dumbfounded by his confession. Emotion floods your veins at the revelation, and you can all but break down into sobs. Jaw gaping, you regard him from his arms, trying to piece together your scattered thoughts.

‘Noona, say someth-’

You kiss him, urgently and desperately. Like you’ve been drowning in a sea of lostness, aimlessly floating about to try to find your way, and he’s your first gulp of air. Mist of perplexity is finally starting to clear away, and you see the path ahead of you with crystal lucidity.

It’s Jungkook. Jungkook, who knows your favourite colour when even your own mother doesn’t. Jungkook, who waddled out into the freezing snow to buy you new socks. Jungkook, who so gently and delicately made love to you tonight. Jungkook, who has loved you unconditionally and will continue doing so regardless of your feelings towards him.

‘I think… I think I’m falling truly, deeply, madly in love with you too, Jungkook.’

End

extras: christmas special

@shookpreme @hazelelizabeth99 @teenage-hippie @bunbundesu @tangledsparkles @gingerpeachtae idk who wanted to be tagged lol 😬

02/09/2019

12K notes · View notes

sirowsky · 3 years

Text

The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Warnings: Language, little angst.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: A lot happens in this chapter, and we finally get some real sparks going. Also, Máma Moreno starts butting in.

Chapter 5

Three months later, you were not only back on your feet, but running. You’d never really been a runner before, but now it seemed like such a freedom, you could barely get enough of it. You’d lost a lot of weight during your coma, and you were scrawny to begin with, so the nutritionist had not been happy when you’d started requesting more physical activity. But after making a solemn vow to eat as much as he asked, he’d finally agreed. And you had both been surprised to discover that you had gained weight even quicker as your body converted the fuel into muscles. You were actually heavier now than you ever had been, and you were genuinely proud of that, because you knew it meant that you were not only strong again, but stronger than before. It felt like a visible testament to your victory over evil. Plus – you looked good. You’d even gotten the colour and natural volume back in your hair.

You were still living at the Heroics HQ medical facility, and you were still being tested to the nines every single day, but you didn’t mind. Everyone here were nice to you, and it wasn’t like you were in a cage, you went outside every day. They just didn’t like you to wander off too far, since you hadn’t been discharged yet, which meant you were still their responsibility. You’d been pleasantly surprised to find out that they had taken care of all your bills and payments while you were in a coma and the subsequent rehabilitation, so your house was still very much in order for whenever you’d be heading back there.

Marcus had been instrumental in your recovery. As soon as they discovered that his electromagnetic currents helped you, the science-department had temporarily melded with the medical department to figure out why that was, and what was the optimal way of utilising this fortuitus abnormality. Luckily for you, that had meant many long hours spent with Marcus by your side as he carefully experimented with stimulating your muscles into cooperating with you. It hadn’t been nearly as sexy as it sounded, but it did offer you plenty of time to talk to each other, and you knew a lot more about him now. Or, at least a lot more about Missy. The proud dad had quickly emerged once he got more comfortable with you. Curiously, though, no one had been able to work out just how his current had such a positive influence on your body. They thought that it might have to do with some sort of harmonisation between the tiny electrical impulses in your nerves and the frequency of his current, but they couldn’t say for sure, because so far, all of their tests had been inconclusive.

Today was going to be a special day for you, in terms of the testing, because they wanted to do a full-scale physical exam, complete with endurance- and strength-tests, something you’d actually been looking forward to. You were excited to find out if you were getting close to getting that clean-bill-of-health stamp any time soon. The tests themselves were gruelling. They involved running pretty much as fast as you could, in short intervals, but in the break between each interval you had to do a strength exercise. Weight-lifting, or working with kettle-bells, or just regular push-ups, there were lots of different ones. After that, you were given an hour to rest, before you were going to be put through an obstacle course to check your agility and reflexes, and it was at this point that Marcus joined the small crowd of maybe thirty people, that had gathered to find out how you’d do. And you were slightly concerned to see him exchange a look with his mother, the almighty Anita Moreno, at the back of that crowd. What could she possibly want to see this for? He was in his uniform again, and looked winded, as though he’d hurried to get there in time to see this. He met your eyes and gave you an encouraging nod. You’d been told that this course was one that the Heroics regularly used for training, and that they’d scaled it down a bit for you, but that the aim was still to test your physique quite rigorously, so it wouldn’t be easy. You took your place on the start-line, and waited for the whistle. It really was a tough course. You had to use your whole body to get past practically every single obstacle, and by the end, you were so tired that you collapsed the moment you crossed the finish-line, to the enthusiastic applause of the little crowd. The twins were by your side immediately, taking your vitals to make sure that you were only normally tired, not dangerous-tired. They’d been with you the whole day, and this was the final hurdle before you’d all get to rest. They’d both been sweating almost as much as you, just from worrying about you.

“All good. She’s okay.”

Amaire declared to the supervising physician. He, in turn, looked at his digital pad and tapped a few times, then a smile crept into his features.

“Well, it’s not a course-record, but considering the fact that most humans don’t even finish this course on their first try, I think we can give you your stamp now.”

You sat up and stared wide-eyed at him, while Amaire shoved a water-bottle into your hand and all but pushed it into your mouth.

“I’m officially declaring you completely recovered, and no longer in need of our medical assistance. Congratulations, miss. You really are a miracle.”

Joy bubbled up inside you as you took in his words. You’d made it. You’d actually made it. There was a light-hearted laughter in your throat as you worked on getting your pulse under control.

“Don’t let Miracle Guy hear you say that, Doc, whatever you do.”

“Hah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then Marcus was suddenly right in front of you, pulling you to your feet and into a tight hug in one fluid movement. He’d never hugged you before, and you wished that he hadn’t done it now when you were soaking his uniform in your sweat. But, holy crap, his arms felt good around you.

“Felicidades, preciosa! I knew you’d be ready. How do you feel?”

“Thank you, Marcus, I feel amazing. Like I wanna sleep for a week, but still amazing.”

Reluctantly, you pulled back to look at him. As wonderful as it was to be encircled by those arms, you wanted him to see your eyes when you spoke again.

“Really, thank you. I don’t know if I could have recovered this well without you, or if I would’ve even been able to wake my body up, ever again. I was trapped in the most impossible position imaginable, and you set me free. I’ve never thanked you for that. I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough.”

He seemed slightly embarrassed by your gratitude, and his eyes seemed a bit glossier as he pulled you back into his arms and held you even tighter.

“You have no idea what it means to me to see you like this. Strong and healthy and happy. I’ll never forget those eyes that stared up at me that day in the hospital, and I spent every day after that feeling helpless and useless every time I walked into your med-chamber. You don’t owe me a damned thing, hermosa. The fact that I get to see those eyes smile again, is more than I could ever ask for.”

Someone clearing their throat very loudly and deliberately, made you automatically pull away from one another. And then you nearly choked on your own saliva when you realised that it was his mother.

“Hey, mom. I was wondering what brought you here today.”

“Aren’t you gonna introduce me, hijo? Didn’t I raise you to be polite?”

“It’s polite not to sneak up on people, deliberately trying to make them uncomfortable, máma. She doesn’t need your dramatics today.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the two of them. You were never close with your own family, so it always warmed your heart to see people who were. And he’d spoken about his mother during your long conversations in the med-chamber, so you knew that they were extremely close, which was why they could argue quite heatedly without ever getting truly angry with one another.

“That’s okay. A little drama can be very entertaining.”

You looked from Marcus to his mother, and then introduced yourself, with a respectful nod, rather than offering your still sweat-soaked hand. She gave her son a sideways glance.

“Don’t you have some work to attend to, boy?”

“Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Do I look like I’m about to leave you alone with a woman that has no idea just how horrid you can be?”

“When have I ever been horrid?!”

“Oh, would you like me the count it out for you? Or would the word ‘ambassador’ suffice?”

“That was just a misunderstanding, and that boy was beyond over-sensitive.”

“He was a war-veteran and you deliberately pushed all of those buttons, until he crashed, just to make a fucking point.”

“Hey, mind your language.”

“Not even a little bit. Now, whatever you want with my friend, you can either start talking, or you can go away.”

You didn’t miss the slightly possessive edge to the way he said ‘my friend’, and you were a tad concerned at just how much you liked it. His mother scoffed and then turned on her heels and walked away.

“Sorry about that. She’s… tricky.”

“I wouldn’t have minded speaking with her, you know.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t, but you don’t know her. She’s never once asked about you, even with all the time I’ve spent in the med-section. Never wanted to know how you were doing or even anything about you. So, the fact that she’s approaching you now, when you’ve just been cleared, means she’s up to something.”

“Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t touched by your willingness to protect me from monster Máma.”

He got a sheepish expression on his face and bowed his head to look at his own shoes.

“I’d happily protect you from anyone.”

“Thank you. I’ll remember that if I’m ever in trouble again.”

He looked up at you, and for a moment his face was pained, before he quickly tried to adapt a more neutral expression. It didn’t quite work.

“So… you’re leaving then?”

“Well… I doubt they’ll just let me stay, rent free. Not to mention take up a med-chamber that someone else will undoubtedly need at some point. And I do miss my house, not to mention the cleaning I’m in for. God, I wonder if any of my plants made it? Is it weird that I’m looking forward to cleaning? And cooking, holy crap, do I miss cooking, and sun-bathing in the garden with my favourite music, and curling up on the sofa…”

He smiled a kind of knowing smile, though, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh, I’m rambling now, aren’t I?”

“A bit. But I get it. Home is… home. I’m glad you get to go back to yours.”

“Me too. Um… so, I’m sure there’s a bunch of paper-work I’ll have to sign and I most definitely need a long shower and a lot of soap before I go anywhere. But I’d love to see you before I leave.”

“Sure. I’ll most likely be in the control room, or my office. Just ask around.”

“Okay.”

Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@blueeyesatnight

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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obae-me · 4 years

Note

Could I please get hcs on how the brothers would react to a mc that doesn't like or feel comfortable receiving compliments? They personally make me uncomfortable since most of the time, people only give me compliments if they want something from me or are just joking and being cruel.

I’m sorry this one came out late, but I really liked writing this one. I hope you like it, thank you, Anon! 💜

Lucifer

He’s the Demon of Pride, and as such, despite his sound and logical mind, he doesn’t realize there are...people...who don’t like compliments. It doesn’t occur to him as a possibility at all. He loves compliments. He thrives under praise. He’ll puff up his wings and strive for perfection just so people will look at him.

So, naturally, he finds compliments to be high on his list of forms of affection. If MC does something right, he’ll compliment them. However, in return all he’ll get is a scoff? A questioning glare? This makes him furious.

What he doesn’t realize is that MC is used to being used. To being praised only to be betrayed. There was always an ulterior motive, so why should demons be any better?

“You would throw back something I willingly gave you?”

“You’re only giving me a compliment to get something out of me, so why don’t you just tell me what you want instead of lying to me?”

That wasn’t a rebuttal he was expecting. Yes he was a demon, and yes sometimes his intentions weren’t the most pure, but to think that someone would believe he’d sink so low as to give compliments in desire to extort them? His brothers maybe, but him?

He took a moment to look at their expression. It was sour and uncomfortable. It’s not what he expected. This was a problem that went deeper than just distrust in demons. He’ll ask them if they’ll talk about it. They don’t go into detail, which he respects, but explains that compliments feel only like lies, and it makes them uncomfortable.

He’ll learn to find other ways to praise them other than compliments. He’ll reward them with a dinner or a little treat. If they’ve done something he’s really proud of, he’ll put it up where people can see. He’ll still give them simple compliments every now and again out of habit, and while MC still doesn’t fully accept it, they’ll smile and nod this time instead of throwing it out the window.

Mammon

He doesn’t give out too many compliments to anybody in general, much less a human. On top of that, it’s especially rare that he’ll give a genuine compliment. This is the demon that MC should be wary of, if he says something nice about them, it’s a very very high chance that he does want something. Not necessarily because he wants to harm the other person, it’s just that he’s grown up with Lucifer as an older brother, and more often than not, puffing up his ego can get him off the hook.

Naturally though, this makes MC very distrustful. On the off chance he does give MC a legit compliment, he might as well have said that he doesn’t like money, because they won’t believe it one bit. He’s totally in the dark about it, he doesn’t get humans at all. He thought he did a good thing, he thought they would’ve loved praise from him, the one and only Mammon. He went out of his way to ask Solomon about it. He was a human too so surely he’d understand.

“Probably because they think you want something, Mammon.”

“But I didn’t that time!”

He was hopeless.

If that’s how they felt, he was going to have to show them how genuine he could be. He was a gentleman, an icon, a pillar of power, so he was going to have to prove it. Everyone found it amusing just how exaggerated he was, treating everything that MC did with respect and reverence. Even Lucifer was in awe over how hard he was working to treat people with honest intentions.

He would make sure MC was there when he returned stolen things back to his brothers. He tells them he’ll cut off gambling and bets immediately. He opens doors for them and escorts them to RAD all without asking for a fee. He wanted MC to trust him, he thought that maybe, just maybe, someone wouldn’t call him scummy for once.

Yes, the brothers had a secret bet with themselves to see how far Mammon could last. Lucifer won, he tends to know his brothers the best. Mammon stopped being completely honest to everyone in about two weeks. He really did try his best to continue to be honest with MC, though. Even if no one else did, they wanted MC to trust him.

Levi

He has a hard time taking compliments too, so if there’s anyone that understands MC, it’s him. Compliments always riddle him with anxiety. He can’t be anything but a dirty, nasty, ugly otaku. His brothers tend to just roll their eyes at it. He’s a powerful demon, he can’t really think that way, he’s just being whiny.

So if MC doesn’t accept any of his compliments, he thinks it’s himself that’s to blame. Of course they’d look extremely uncomfortable to be complimented by him, they probably thought he was a pervert now. He shut himself in his room for days. The brothers had seen this happen before, so they weren’t concerned, but MC couldn’t help but be worried.

They came up to his room, knocked on the door, but was left with silence. Not surprising. They felt like they had to apologize anyway, so they spoke to the door, hoping that maybe Levi would hear some of it. They apologized for making him feel bad. They apologized for being stupid, for being rude.

Levi opened the door, shaking his head furiously. He hadn’t thought that of them at all. They both end up putting their feelings on the table. MC will share with him some of the stories of why they can’t trust honey-coated words anymore. Levi will talk about his failures as the third-born.

“We’re both a mess, aren’t we?”

In the end they’ll both spend much more time together than they had before. Even just the peace of being in the same room, even if they were doing different activities, set them a bit more at ease.

They both worked on trying to be better at accepting compliments, with no pressure put on them, of course. And if any demon ever tired to butter MC up to abuse them, they’d be destroyed by Levi before anyone could say Game Over.

Satan

One time tried to give MC an compliment that was so eloquently written, it could’ve been written by a poet. They did not take it well, to no fault of Satan’s or his work. It was so disgustingly sweet, MC went pale, nauseous off his words.

Satan felt so angry and embarrassed, he refused to be around MC for a week. Which made things worse. Both Satan and MC were spending far far too much time in their rooms and spending copious amounts of effort just on avoiding each other. The other brothers had had enough. They all got together and summoned both of them downstairs to talk. Lucifer called them out.

“Whatever happened certainly doesn’t warrant this new behavior, so you two are going to talk it out. Now.”

“Satan doesn’t like me, doesn’t surprise me, I knew everything was a lie anyway. With a compliment like that, it was too good to be true.”

Satan was uncharacteristically at a loss for words. The brother’s plan seemed to be working, so they left the two alone to talk it out. The two went back and forth for a while, clearing up all the misunderstandings. Satan had never felt dumber. He knew more than most, even among immortal beings, and yet he still let his emotions overtake his logic.

Now that he knew how MC felt about compliments in general, he knew how to handle them. If anyone thought that words alone were among his area of expertise, they were mistaken. He would do countless research on other ways to show praise and affection that wouldn’t come off as hollow. He’d fight anyone that made them uncomfortable again.

Asmo

He’ll have the hardest time with this. He’s a compliment churning machine. He’s a hype man. He’s a man of love., and so he wants to let the people he loves just how much he loves them.

It’s like never ending torture for MC, and they can’t help but feel like he’s doing it on purpose. How could he tell them they look amazing? How could he cuddle as close as he wants and describe them down to the detail? Every day made MC feel sick.

It got worse when MC was around him the first time he got drunk. He’d throw himself at them, every word he said laced heavy with alcohol.

“MC, you’re so cute, I want you by me all the time. MCCCC, you’re so wonderful, and beautiful, and cute-ah but I already said you were cu-“

MC shoved him off of them in a panic. “Stop, Asmo. Just stop!” They fled to their room leaving a confused drunk demon on the floor.

The next morning, while he fought a demon-sized hangover, he draped dramatically over his bed, running over last night’s kerfuffle in his head. Although the minor details were fuzzy, the important parts remained, including MC’s words. What’s this he was feeling...guilt? No no, he couldn’t have that, he needed to fix this right away.

He brought over his fluffiest robe and a tray with little cookies and fruity tea. MC almost didn’t let him in, but Asmo looked...different. Asmo sat them down and made sure they indulged themselves a little before apologizing. He had gone too far, and making other people feel uncomfortable was not an attractive quality.

MC felt like they needed to admit to him as well that any compliment they receive makes them feel that way. It was just too much for them all the time. He’s stunned, but how is he supposed to tell you how much he loves appreciates you?

MC decides to limit him to one compliment per day, maybe two if they feel like they can handle it. So now every day Asmo stays silent till he can think of the most perfect, most beautiful thing to tell them, hoping that maybe one day they’ll fully believe him and take it to heart.

Beel

He’s very much an actions over words person, so it’s rare that he’ll compliment MC with words alone. He likes to bring MC food, make sure they’re well fed and hydrated. He’ll keep them protected, that’s how he best shows his affection. He’ll follow MC everywhere he can, watching over them.

Sometimes he does tell them that they’re so sweet, and MC just shrinks further into their seat. He’ll frown. He doesn’t know why, but he does notice this anytime he says anything nice about them. So he’ll double down on getting them all the food they want. For him food equals love.

MC found it nice, since he was working so hard on making them feel good without trying to compliment them, but one night they came to their bedroom to find enough food to feed a small demon army. They appreciated it, but maybe Beel was taking this further than he needed to.

They brought him back to their room, and he looked extremely pleased with himself. He wanted MC to eat it all, he wouldn’t have one bite...other than the few bites he snuck already. However, MC begged him to help them eat it, it would be impossible to eat it all themselves. While Beel was eating, MC sighed and crossed their legs.

“Beel, I appreciate this so much, but you don’t have to go this far for me, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

They explained how they just didn’t like compliments in general. No matter who they came from, no matter who said it. Demons, angels, humans, even God himself could say something kind about them and they’d still take it with a grain of salt.

It didn’t take long for Beel to understand, thank goodness. Of his many brothers, Beel is one them who supports them immediately despite how strange it seems. He’ll back down a bit, but still make sure MC knows every day how much he is proud of them by the things he does.

Belphie

Get a compliment from Belphie? Probably if there was something majorly wrong. He’s not good with words in general, and he doesn’t compliment anyone. Not his brothers, not humans, not even Diavolo. So this isn’t too much of an issue for MC.

However, he keeps a close eye on MC, closer than most people realize. Because of this, he notices one day when a grimy, good-for-nothing demon he doesn’t know, tries to win MC over with their words in order for them to do something.

“Aw come on, MC, you’re so smart, brilliant even! So won’t you do my part of the project for me? It’s nothing you can’t handle, you can handle anything!”

He can’t help but notice MC lean heavy on the wall behind them, using the books in their hands to cover the lower part of their fading face. He comes over and puts a ‘friendly’ hand on this demon’s shoulder. Upon laying eyes upon one of the powerful Student Council, they hesitantly tell MC they’ve got somewhere to be and then scatter. Belphie looks at MC and shakes his head a bit.

After what he’s done, after everything he’s said, he has no business helping MC out like this. He knows how much of a hypocrite he seems. He shoves his hands deep in his pocket and turns away. No wonder they can’t take compliments very well when every demon here that does sounds like, well...sound like him.

“Thank you, Belphie.” He stops, looking back over his shoulder at MC. This human...they were so dumb and confusing, but...he didn’t want to leave them alone. They were exhausting yet because of them he’d slept more peacefully and had more good dreams than nightmares.

He won’t ever tell them how much they appreciate them, which is fine, sometimes MC prefers it that way. He’ll mostly stay silent, but stay close to them. MC can know how much they mean to him without him having to say a word. Especially if Belphie feels comfortable enough to fall asleep on them, sometimes in their lap, sometimes on their shoulder. It says volumes.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie

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cosmicbash · 3 years

Text

I'm hesitant to post this, because??? Honestly?? I'm not 100% sure I haven't already posted it. I was perusing my Google docs trying to relabel stuff as posted and such to better organize and found this, which @lemon-coke and me both can't figure out if I ever posted. So.

Better to repost it and give you all something to reread then not post it all I assume.

Sorry!

It starts out as a misunderstanding, of course, because how else would their relationship begin?

A series of short tentative chats that somehow blossom into a full on dinner together, Colson sweating and more anxious than he's ever been in his life. It just doesn't seem real, that not only could he be mending this feud with his idol but also sitting across from him at some fancy restaurant table learning Eminem eats his steaks well done like some child. And laughing about it.

He's actually laughing. With his idol, his rival, his highschool crush. Long legs kicking out under the table at his own bad jokes, Em half smirking back at him. Their feet brushing one too many times for the color to leave his cheeks even after he's done giggling.

By the time Colson is talking Em into splitting some crazy good looking chocolate cake he actually feels better than he has in years. Since before the beef. So of course something has to go wrong. It really would have to be a dream for things not to sour.

He wants to pretend the first few flirty comments are in his head. That Em reaching across the table to roughly rub some chocolate off his cheek is a Detroit thing. But by the time they're finished eating and waiting for the check Colson's creeping suspicion has turned into full on alarm bells blaring. There's just no way to excuse the nervous looks or Em's almost hesitant invitation up to his hotel room.

It feels like a slap to the face. Everything suddenly makes sense. Why they're eating in the other rapper's hotel, why Em is even speaking to him. None of this is to repair their relationship or end the beef. It's all just some poorly hidden buttering up before Em asks him to get down on his knees.

Colson should blow up. He should just lash out and throw his fist into Em's face. Storm out and flag down the valet. He's not some escort that the rapper can rent for the night and feed a fancy dinner to.

But there's that guilty feeling that has settled into the pit of his stomach. The one that's been there since he first lashed out and ruined everything with his diss track, the comments about Hailey, his childish bitching in interviews. It's only doubled since they first sat down to eat. Every muffled chuckle and weakly hidden smile from the older man digging that pit deeper and deeper. Showing him what he carelessly threw away in some desperate grab for attention.

It's got a small voice in the back of Colson's head warning him how if he says no and storms out he's just doing the same thing all over again, cutting Em out of his life. This time possibly forever.

So Colson bites his tongue and nods. His fingers anxiously climbing up into his hair to help hide the guilty look he knows must be on his face when he stutters out a "y-yeah, yeah, sure."

The genuine smile Em flashes back at him at his agreement just feels like a knife being jammed next to the shovel.

How can the man look so fucking blissful about something that feels like borderline blackmail?

But Em does. He looks stunned, downright flustered even at first at his response. Then happy. A happy that isn't hidden by some fake cough or behind a delicate yet strong looking hand for once. It gives Colson something precious to hold onto in the sea of uncomfortable and nasty emotions twisting up his stomach while the older rapper pays.

The knot just twists itself up tighter once they're in the elevator, his silence thankfully brushed off as nervousness by Em. The almost shy glance of steely blue eyes his way making him feel so small while buttons are pressed. Usually Colson would blame this kind of nausea on the ride itself, but for once his phobia of the small metal deathtraps is actually being overpowered. A new fear worming its way through his guts as each floor number blinks to life.

He doesn't want to freak out. To run away, but hes too goddamn sober for this. Avoiding smoking and turning down the offer of wine at dinner just to try and impress his idol was threatening to be his downfall. If he'd known Em was going to show such little respect and consideration to his being like this he would have lit a fat one up right there at the table. Hell, maybe that would have changed the older man's mind about propositioning him in the first place. Surely a druggie asshole was less appealing to make drop to their knees instead of his current carefully put together primped and meek self.

"Only a few more floors. Don't go green on me just yet Kelly."

Colson didn't know whether to take the playful nudge as comforting or creepy. Maybe, a little flattering? If Em had actually looked into him enough to learn about his problem with elevators and the man just wasn't guessing off the apparent discolor of his face that is.

"Y-yeah."

Imagining Eminem of all people actually following his interviews or caring about his personal life that much felt like a pipe dream though.

Outside of the next 20 minutes or however long it took for the bastard to get his rocks off he highly doubted Em would put much thought into his existence at all. Which would be fair. After all the shit he's said and done he really doesn't deserve the time of day from his idol.

A ding and the elevator doors were opening. Colson's legs feeling numb beneath him when he finally lets go of the railing in the elevator to stumble forward. Thankful that Em's focus was on digging his room's keycard out of his wallet and not his clumsy steps. Each one bringing them closer and closer to their destination, making the whole situation so vividly real he couldn't help but panic again. The other man's forced small talk about how he "Doesn't usually book the penthouse suite-" falling on deaf ears.

It’s ironic, how often he had dreamed for this exact scenario. For Eminem to be leading him up to some fancy high end hotel room, promising to shower him fully in his attention and gaze. Only now, with his dream coming true right before his eyes he can’t help but feel bittersweet about the heated gaze holding him frozen just outside the door. Em’s final offer for him to back down before they both step through the threshold clear as day in the look.

The twist in his gut tells Colson to take it, to just spin around on his heel and run away with his tail tucked between his legs. Accept he’s too much of a coward and too full of himself to actually mend their beef.

But the desperate need he feels for forgiveness and absolvement pushes Colson forward instead. Sheer will alone giving him the confidence to twirl his idols hoodie strings around his fingers to drag Em inside with him. The loud beat of his heart completely smothering the other man’s flustered outburst.

Just like in church the blonde finds himself on his knees not too long after entering. Mouth open and hands clasped together, ready to ask for forgiveness. Except this god he’s praying to is running it’s fingers through his hair, and there’s a stiff cock separating his palms. A chorus of curses and “Holy fuck, K-Kelly just wait a second, shit, your tongue is-“ tickling his ears instead of hymns.

He’s never sucked a cock before, and it’s embarrassing how quickly he finds himself choking. But Colson doesn’t give up, even when his jaw starts to ache and the grip on his hair grows a bit too tight. His discomfort doesn’t matter here. He just needs to make Em happy, earn the forgiveness he doesn’t deserve.

“Can I- fuck, can I fuck your face?” Both of the older rapper’s palms are holding his bangs away from his face, tilting his head back just enough to force their eyes to meet. The shame in his chest doubles but so does the surprising tightness in his jeans when he sees the uncharacteristic flush to Em’s cheeks.

He isn’t experienced, the smart thing to do would be pull off and admit that. He’s seen first hand how disastrous things can go but his head bobs in a yes anyway. Eyes already starting to water from how the action jabs the other rappers cock right against his gag reflex.

A low groan is all the warning he gets before Em’s fingers are knotting in his hair, forcing his head down to meet the thrust of strong hips. Stuffing that hard dick down his throat so fast it burns and his hands can’t help but flail, helplessly grabbing onto the meat of the older rapper’s thighs through his sweats. Unable to even steal another gasp of air before it happens again. Em’s hips pistoning forward to fuck his mouth like some cheap replaceable toy.

Even after he gags and gurgles spit the rapper doesn’t stop.

The harsh pants of praise and encouragement burning his ears just as hotly as the tears in his eyes. “Ah, so good. So fucking good baby, the best, ah-“

Colson doesn’t know what’s worse, how quickly his heart skips at the surprise tern of endearment or how pathetically his cock jerks in his underwear. Not that he has much time to think on it with how Em abruptly forces his face right down to the bone, soft and scratchy pubes tickling his nose. Startling him before the other man’s blowing his load, Colson’s eyes widening and nails cutting deeply into Em’s legs while he chokes. There’s too much, even with his throat reflexively swallowing it still fills up his mouth and bursts out the sides. Dripping down his chin and out onto his shirt when Em finally pulls him off.

It’s salty, and thick. Nothing like the eggnog Rook’s joked to him it tastes like. There’s nothing sweet about this thick cream, even if the lightheaded feeling he’s got from milking it out still makes him feel drunk.

“Shit. I wanna take a picture.“ Em’s palm is tilting his head back again, dragging his glassy eyes up away from the twitching spit slick cock in front of him. Thumb forcing his tongue down flat to flash what he can only imagine has to be a white mess before the hand in his hair is fumbling out a phone. “Can I?”

He almost wants to laugh at how the brunette doesn’t even wait for his answer before there is the unmistakable flash of a phone light temporarily blinding him. A curse and then another two, these ones at least allowing him the chance to shut his eyes tightly.

The shame within him is boiling, burning through his veins like lava and making his heart drop down into his stomach.

“So pretty-“ Em’s fingers are releasing his tongue and jaw to rake through his bangs yet again. Exposing his face even though Colson wants nothing more than to hide. A stifled sob tearing at his aching throat while he swallows what he can inside his mouth without completely gagging.

He can’t cry. That would ruin the mood wouldn't it? And if it doesn't, Colson doesn't know how he would handle having Em laugh at his tears. The almost soft demeanor and shy quality to his tone is all thats keeping the blonde from running away as it is.

The shuffle of shoes and curl of strong fingers pulling him up startles Colson's eyes back open. Lashes fluttering to blink away the brief flash of wetness that's blurred his vision before he realizes he's being kissed. That Em's palms are cupping his jaw yet again, helping him to his feet.

It's scratchy, and softer than he expects. Not that he was expecting Eminem to be kissing him in the first place, but the man doesn't relent. Just keeps kissing him, even after he's grown to his full height and the angle of their heads has switched. Em's tongue snaking its way inside his mouth while they stumble back further into the room. Until Colson's head is feeling fuzzy and his knees weak, the cushioned crash of his body hitting a mattress barely felt.

It feels wrong when Em's hands smooth up over his chest and down inside his jeans. The uncontrollable kick of his hips up into a tight hand around his cock almost blasphemous. There's no reason for Em to even be bothering with touching him there, he doesn't deserve it. But the rapper is sucking and nibbling along his neck, up into his ear to whisper a dozen filthy praises and compliments. None of them possibly true.

"So pretty-" "Perfect-" "Wanted to touch you for so long-"

"Stop-" Colson's hands feel shaky as they drag his idols face back up to meet his in a messy kiss. Breath tight while he tries to speak between pecks. "Just- fuck, just hurry-"

When he winds up on his stomach some point into the night, Em's too big cock pressing hard against his entrance he can't help but cry out. The pitiful fist he shoves between his own teeth doing nothing to stifle the sound.

It hurts, more than the thin fingers he'd taken only moments prior. But not as much as the soothing shushes and affectionate run of hands through his hair.

#and yeah #i kinda stole the formatting metalheadkells uses for their tumblr posts #i seriously forgot i had more options than just bold or italics #🥴🥴🥴#forgive meee #emgk #i hope if you have read it you at least all enjoyed it #and if not #the same #😭😭#prompts

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strawberry1212 · 3 years

Text

Asian drama female lead passivity

I feel like a lot of aspects of female lead (FL) passivity is discussed (the fish kiss being the most famous example), but I wanted to systematically analyze each trope under the theory of female passivity and its feminist implications.

This topic has been stuck in my mind ever since I read a blog years ago (literally like six years ago so I’m sorry I have no idea where it is, I can’t link it) talking about how intimacy in Asian dramas is always portrayed as something women relent to giving up half-heartedly, and men one sidedly pursue. Women are chaste, men are lustful, and women are yielding to men, that is the essential message.

This dynamic plays out in Western media as well--the movie Don Jon is a super interesting analysis comparing how women are indoctrinated by romcoms, to how men are indoctrinated by porn. So women attach grand romantic gestures and romantic commitment to their self worth, because that’s what the girl gets in her happy ending, while men attach it to sexual prowess/having women do kinky sexual favors.

This dynamic is super harmful because it works to suppress female sexuality, as well as male emotionality. People are always surprised when a woman would rather just want sex (or a career) over a romantic commitment. And men are applauded for having the bare minimum of emotional awareness because it’s so rare.

I think a form of Asian drama female lead (FL) passivity that is most talked about is the infamous “fish kiss.” See exhibit A:

The guy initiates the kiss on the usually unsuspecting girl, as if the girl ever going in for the kiss herself would be too sexually aggressive. And as if even enjoying the kiss would be too much, they have her just stand there eyes wide open. It’s awkward, and even slightly funny to watch, but our critique often ends here. But I think the fish kiss is a symptom of a much deeper problem.

You will notice that female lead passivity is present in all physical interactions between the romantic interests.

The pull in hug:

Which sometimes the FL looks uncomfortable to frightened in:

I even found a meme, so I know I’m not the only who thinks this is weird:

(meme/photo credit: https://goliath1357.tumblr.com/post/27115253892/kdramareasons-awkward-one-sided-hugs-k-drama)

What I don’t like about this trope is first of all, it makes female consent seem less romantic. It romanticizes this idea of male pursuit/female passivity, the man will protect her, the man will pursue her (basically like an object), the man will do all the work in making the relationship progress, etc., and it romanticizes this dynamic to women--this is easy to romanticize for us, because to the most of us that aren’t being constantly pursued by two hot men, this pursuit dynamic seems like a dream boat. Often the kdrama female lead (due to the Initial Misunderstanding trope) will even dislike and push away the male lead--and yet he still pursues her, how romantic! -_- Except in real life, the guy aggressively pursuing you and ignoring you disinterest is not romantic.

And the issue is on both sides, because it teaches women to just stand there, not express consent, and not express sexual/intimacy enthusiasm when we’re feeling it (that would be ~unladylike~). And on the other side, it teaches men to do all the pursuing and to assume that a girl standing frozen, wide eyed, and often looking scared as you kiss her, is consent. Sometimes the guy even interprets a clear “no” as consent. (Honestly I’m not even sure if these Asian drama writers are thinking along the lines of “xyz is consent,”...like I’m not sure how often they even think of the concept of consent tbh.)

But anyways, passivity. is not. consent!!!! That’s why we have the slogan “Yes mean yes,” meaning both parties must have enthusiastic, clear consent, for respectful intimacy. Asian dramas discourage women from expressing an enthusiastic “yes,” and it teaches men not to expect this “yes,” so they can steamroll past passivity and even rejection.

And I know some people will be boohooing me on this. “But sudden kisses and hugs are so romantic!” people will say. But what is “romantic,” like many things, is a social construct. We think things are romantic because they’ve always been presented to us as romantic, with swelling music in the background and the implicit understanding that anything is ok because they are Soulmates(TM) that end up happy together. We construct our idea of what is romantic largely out of media.

But that is not real life, and carrying those messages over to real life (as we inevitably all do), is dangerous. I just moved to Japan so this especially hits close to home for me: I dress conservatively by American standards, but I couldn’t bring a quarter of my clothes when I moved because I worried men on trains would interpret them as revealing, and therefore I would be “asking for it.” I, and I’m sure many women will feel me on this, think about and fear sexual assault very often. And when we don’t enshrine active consent, we perpetuate rapist culture.

Since “romantic” is anything our society constructs it to be, let’s romanticize enthusiastic consent! (like this NCT song!!) I think sudden kisses can be cute when you’ve established boundaries that it’s is ok, but it scares me that men and women are watching this and thinking suddenly kissing a person you haven’t discussed boundaries/intimacy with at all is cute. It’s all fun and games when it’s the hot male lead kissing the girl you know he’s going to end up with, but it’s not cute when it’s real life men thinking they’re entitled to women’s bodies.

Other examples of female passivity:

I stopped watching Moonlight Drawn over the Clouds at precisely this scene:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X6I0WXeD-dc&ab_channel=KBSWORLDTV

because it was so painful to watch her sitting there like a fish as the guys got these cool fight scenes. Like girllll literally do anything, throw a rock, something! First dramas routinely disable the female characters by making the male characters the able fighters, but even if you’re not an able fighter you can do more than just sit there like a lame duck -_- Especially the parts of these scenes where someone is standing over the girl with the sword and the writers don’t give the girl the presence of mind to simply run away, but they give the guy the presence of mind to somersault into the room, jump over ten monkey bars, slash the antagonist, and catch the girl bridal style on his way down. I guess the damsel in distress trope is as old as the book, but just the complete passivity so many female characters show in fight scenes as they need to be saved is really annoying and disempowering.

I think the worst part is their faces, they’re all like omg! this is so sad!

well girl you could have done literally ANYTHING other than sit there as he took ten bullets for you lmao. Women don’t exist to stand by and be saved!!! This is a historical drama but the modern drama version is when the guy is getting beat up by bullies or whatever and the girl just stands by and does nothing but look upset.

Another good trope that is under this passivity theme is the double wrist grab, where we not only have ONE male lead (ML) manhandling the FL, but TWO MLs. Ahh yes the only thing better than forcibly ignoring consent and the FL’s wishes is TWO men doing it.

I heard this recently even happened in True Beauty...which...that drama...truly I thought Kdramas were progressing until I saw how much people were hyping up that mess of misogyny (not to mention how boringly predictable it was).

I can’t quite express this next trope in a screenshot, but something I also see a lot of is the ML professing his love to the FL and she sort of just stands there like O_O. Like she’s just sort of this object that sits there being admired? It’s just such an unnatural way to react to someone professing their love for you, and these scenes drag on for many minutes of just the ML’s dialogue so the female actress, having no lines, has no choice but to sit there O_O. Like give her lines! Give her reactions! Give her anything other than being wide eyed!!!!

And these physical interactions represent deeper emotional passivity in the female lead.

I’ve noticed it’s almost always the trend of the male lead falls later, but falls harder, and ultimately he puts more energy into making the relationship progress. Again, this buys into female fantasy, but it is an unhealthy fantasy that is grounded, I think, in our insecurities, and our fear of putting ourselves out there (so we would rather have someone pursue us than put ourselves out there and meet someone halfway).

This emotional passivity is why, weirdly enough, sometimes I will really like the drama because the girl is very stubbornly, openly, and aggressively pursuing the guy. A case of this is Itazura na Kiss, or Mischievous Kiss (there’s a Jdrama, Kdrama, and anime--I only watched the anime). Now the guy is downright meannnnn in Mischievous Kiss, this was not a healthy relationship at all, but there was something refreshing about the girl. Sure her aggression was in pursuing a man, but at least it was aggression, and I’d always only seen any hint of female sexuality/actively pursuing as something very stigmatized.

I think a sister trope to the passivity trope is the innocence trope. The guy will literally take the initiative to profess his undying love to the FL and she’ll be like “what?? omg stop teasing you’re joking ahahha.” Why do FLs need to be so oblivious/innocent? I think it caters to the way media is seen through a male gaze but that’s a trope to deconstruct another time.

#feminism #asiandrama #jdrama #kdrama #cdrama #kdrama tropes #kdrama analysis #kdrama feminism

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andypantsx3 · 4 years

Text

ab intra | 2 | de minimis

pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi / Reader

length: 18,811 words / 6 chapters

summary: When a wave of disturbing crimes sweep the city, underground hero Hitoshi Shinsou is assigned to work the case with you. What’s even more frustrating than his obnoxious personality is the fact no one will tell you why he’s involved. Things only get more suspicious from there.

tags: romance, thriller, misunderstandings, pro hero AU, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, suicide mentions, brainwashing, consensual mind control, some violence

You’d thought you’d have time the next morning to mentally brace for seeing Shinsou again. You were wrong.

At four thirty in the morning, the shrill tone of your work phone cut through the dark of your room. You shot up out of your bed, grasping blindly for your nightstand.

“They struck again,” your captain’s gravelly voice carried over the line. He rattled off the name and address of a casino in the heart of downtown, demanding you get there immediately, then hung up on you. You groaned and rolled off your mattress, dressing blindly in the dark. You threw your hair into a messy approximation of a ponytail, then ran out the door.

You managed to get to the station just in time to catch a subway headed into downtown and spent the entire ride anxiously tapping your foot, wondering how many people had been hurt this time.

At downtown, it was immediately clear something horrible had happened. Just outside the station, ambulance and police lights flashed in the pre-dawn dark, and a tangled knot of nearly a hundred people choked the sidewalk. They overflowed onto the main road, which had been blocked off with neon cones, a sleepy-looking officer waving traffic around into the opposite lane.

You trotted up to the police tape, spotting several patrol cops huddled in a group with Aya and another team member. A head of untidy indigo hair towered over the bunch. You suppressed a groan and picked your way over.

“What happened?” you asked.

One of the patrol officers detailed an eerily familiar situation for you; three people who had killed themselves, tables and tills emptied, security footage missing, and close to thirty minutes erased from almost fifty minds. Your stomach churned as a splint was carried out of the casino’s main entrance, a thick layer of dark fabric over a still form.

You caught a hard look passing over Shinsou’s face as he watched the paramedics pile the splint into the back of an ambulance. He was dressed in the same uniform you’d seen him in yesterday, scarf and that strange mask hanging from his throat. You wondered for just a brief moment what they had in common, and what kind of quirk they supported. Then he looked at you, raising a dark eyebrow, and the moment was gone.

“Who were the witnesses whose memories were tampered with?” you asked, turning back to the officer. The officer directed you over to a throng of people standing just over to the side, some of them still being looked over by a set of EMTs.

You broke off from the group, pacing over to where the witnesses huddled. The heat of a tall body at your back told you Shinsou was following you closely.

“If you have some kind of time rewind quirk, now would be a good time to tell me,” you said, turning to him, trying to tamp down on your frustration. Showing up at a still-warm crime scene like this was always upsetting, and it was hard to reign your emotions in. “Or something useful in catching a criminal like this.”

Shinsou’s purple eyes flickered over you. “Afraid not, kitten. And don’t think you’re getting anything out of me.”

You sighed. Hundreds of quirks at their disposal and the Public Safety Commission had sent you some jerk who, as far as you could tell, either had a quirk to do with scarves or a quirk to do with being incredibly annoying. You wished, not for the first time, for a quirk of your own. You’d never needed anything more than your brain and your handgun to straighten out a case before, but you wouldn’t say no to something that would help you solve this one and make Shinsou disappear.

You stepped up to the huddled group of witnesses, asking for those who had yet to give their statements. The first people to volunteer themselves were a pair of college girls, clearly barely over the drinking age, dressed in slinky, sequined dresses with slight variation in the cut and colors. It was clear they had planned a fun night on the town that had ended very, very badly.

You opened up a recording app on your phone, and introduced yourself and Shinsou. Then you launched into the standard line of question, Shinsou a tall, silent warmth at your back.

“Can you recount for me what happened?” you asked the girls.

One of them shook her dyed blond locks. “No, not really. One minute we were at the bar, ordering more shots because we had just lost really badly at roulette, and the next I was on the floor and Eriko was all the way across the room, huddled in a corner,” she gestured to her friend.

“What was in between for you? Did you register time passing at all and just didn’t know what happened?”

She shook her head. “No. It was like….” she thought for a moment, “....like when you’re really drunk and you get black out. Like stuff maybe happened but when you wake up the next morning, there’s like a black hole in your brain and you can’t tell if there was time in between or not.”

Her friend Eriko nodded. “Literally just like that. It feels the same way. The last thing I remember was feeling really weird, like my vision went all crazy? And then I woke up on the other side of the bar.”

Shinsou made a noise low in his throat and leaned over your shoulder. He was close, close enough that you could feel his chest brush your back and catch the soft scent of something light, like citrus. “Something happened to your vision?” he asked.

Eriko looked up at him, and you spied something like a blush spreading across her nose. “Y-yeah. Like I don’t know if it was because we were already kind of drunk or whatever. But I lost focus for a second, and stuff got kind of hazy?”

You looked up into Shinsou’s face, interested in why he’d seized on this detail. He stared cooly back at you, his purple eyes dark in the pre-dawn gloom. He offered no explanation, instead turning to look at the blonde girl.

“Did something happen to your vision too?” he asked.

Her delicate brow furrowed. “I’m...not sure. It’s hard to think back to right before...”

Shinsou leaned in. “Remember for me,” he said.

Your own brow creased at the strange, indelicate nature of the phrasing. He sounded almost like he was ordering her, and your temper flared. It wasn’t protocol to shape queries into demands, especially given the often fragile state of victims, and you made a mental note to ream him out for it later.

The girl didn’t seem to mind him, though, eyes fogging with the memory. “I...yes. All I remember before the black out was feeling like the room had gotten wobbly. Hazy is a good way to describe it.”

Shinsou nodded, seeming satisfied. “Thanks.”

Now this was an interesting detail. Nowhere in the mountain of paperwork you’d been able to collect from the investigators dispatched to the first two locations had you spotted any information like this.

“We should ask the others if this was the case for them as well. Could be the alcohol, but it’s worth finding out more,” you said begrudgingly.

It seemed maybe Shinsou knew his way around the finer details of mental quirks, then. You wondered if the Commission had sent him not because of his own quirk, whatever it was that the fucking scarf had to do with it, but because he had experience dealing with similar villains? That could be useful, more useful than you had thought he might be.

Still, his bedside manner was going to need some work.

You asked the girls a couple of follow up questions and took down their contact information, then moved on to another witness. You were surprised to find that this witness too, and a fair few others after, claimed the same effect on their vision, when probed on the finer details.

The most difficult part of the questioning by far was having to interview the friends of the people who’d killed themselves. You almost wanted to delay speaking to them until the end, but it would be cruel to make them wait any longer when so much had happened. One man had been with two of the women who had taken their own lives, and he was hardly able to choke out any information between sobs. You’d gone to fetch him a foil shock blanket, and after that he was a little better, just coherent enough to run you through the victims’ actions prior to their death.

“I just can’t believe someone could make them do this,” he said shakily. “They were both just so tough, so strong. They just had it together, you know? I don’t understand what kind of a quirk could make someone kill themselves. Why someone would even want to...?”

This train of thought seemed to set him off again, igniting a series of small, hiccuping sobs, and you tried to reroute him. Shinsou shifted uncomfortably at your shoulder.

“Can you tell me about what happened to you, just before your memory blanks out?” you asked gently.

The man took a breath. “I saw Yuki, one of my friends. One of the ones who….well. She was looking at something across the room and it looked like she was gonna pass out for a second. Then it was like she snapped out of it, and she started to yell something. That’s where it ends for me…”

Shinsou’s keen eyes flickered over the man. “Did you see what she was looking at?”

The man shook his head. “I turned to look but I don’t know. I remember moving my head but that’s it.”

You nodded and jotted down a couple notes. Shinsou asked him a couple more questions in his low tone, seeming very intent on the man’s movements, the movements and minute reactions of his friends. He dug fairly deep on any strange feelings or impressions the man had, even on things earlier in the evening, and he--weirdly--asked a lot specific questions on how the man had been feeling just before it all happened--had he had any weird shifts in thought pattern? Had he been feeling a little anxious or uncomfortable, like he’d forgotten something?

After that, it took you a fair few hours to cycle through all the rest of the people who had been at the scene, but by the end of it you’d collected a lot of interesting new information. Shinsou made a few other brusque demands, which annoyed you, but overall it didn’t seem to affect the witnesses much, who still compliantly answered to his requests.

The sun was well up in the sky by the time you finished, and you were almost too exhausted without your usual coffee in hand to start an argument with Shinsou.

You did anyway.

“Okay, you can’t just order witnesses around,” you hissed when you’d wrapped up with the last person and started towards the precinct. “You need to treat them with delicacy or it could mess with the veracity of the information they give us. If you’re going to be working my case, you’re going to follow procedure.”

Shinsou smirked down at you, lifting a corded arm to tousle his hair in unconcern. “You don’t call the shots, kitten.”

You glared up at him. With the morning sun washing over the planes of his face and catching in the violet of his eyes, he looked even prettier than yesterday, and you could easily understand why the blonde girl had blushed at being addressed by him. The thought irritated you further.

“You might think that you have all the power right now,” you intoned, “but make no mistake. I am the professional here, and you are a contractor on loan. You will listen to me.”

This seemed to amuse him.

“You’re quite accustomed to being the one in charge, aren’t you?” he asked, a peculiar little smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

You suppressed an eye roll. There was a reason a case of this complexity had been assigned to you, why all your reports were so neatly handled. You were good at leading things, particularly investigations, so the question hardly needed posing.

“Yes, and you would do well to remember that,” you said.

A strange feeling washed over you suddenly, a small tension at the back of your mind just before a feeling of vertigo hit you. You stumbled a little, almost tripping, and Shinsou curled an arm around you, catching you easily like this was something you did all the time, something that he was expecting.

“Your concern for me is adorable, kitten,” he said. His arm tightened around you for just a moment, pressing you into him. You had just long enough to note how warm he was, his lean body unexpectedly hard with dense muscle, and catch a hint of that light scent again. And then he was moving, stepping away to pace ahead of you. “I think you will find, however, that I am even more accustomed to control.”

You stared after him, mood darkening like the sky before a storm. You didn’t know what kind of backing he thought he had from the Public Safety Commission that gave him such smug self-assurance, but he was in for a rude fucking awakening.

A plan began to form in the back of your mind as you trailed after him, stepping back into the precinct offices. Though clearly not well known, Shinsou was a hero, which meant that some ranking and information must be out there about him. He might not want to tell you anything himself, but that didn’t mean that there wasn’t a wealth of dirt for you to find on him, details for you to track down to finally, finally get some measure of a handle on him.

He might think he was in charge, might think he was holding all the cards right now.

But if you were good at one thing, it was investigating.

#shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha #fanfic #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #tw: suicide mention #shinsou hitoshi

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vocalyunho · 4 years

Text

Losers

Part 2 of bad boy! Yunho, part 1 here

pairing — bad boy! Yunho x reader (fem)

genre — angst with a sprinkle of smut, fluff.

word count — 4k

warnings — explicit language, lots of kissing, (almost) handjob, talk about inner self and emotions.

synopsis — After the night of the dare, Yunho has to cope with his new -to him- self. Realizing that getting you out of his head was impossible, he decides to visit you. However, you misunderstand the reason he came to see you, but he needs to make himself clear.

A/N: first of, thank you all for appreciating the first part & sending me so nice messages! Secondly, I noticed (once again) that I can’t write angst to save my damn life, so I’m sorry again if this one’s messy or doesn’t reach your expectations. Your feedback is very much appreciated, please don’t stay silent :’)

Everything was spinning around him. The lights, even though dim, seemed too bright for him and his red eyes, the music was too loud and bothersome, the accrual smoke was choking him, Yunho’s head was throbbing but his thoughts were clear in his mind. You. That green poison he’s been smoking and all the alcohol he’s consumed, did nothing. You’re still living, rent free, in his mind and he can’t do anything to get you out of there. The way your lips had nibbled on his neck and the way you’d looked at him, that night, when his hands were under your shirt were still in his mind. You looked so innocent, yet so confident. So helpless, yet so determined to win the game and he was just the conduit for that, nothing more.

Yunho walked slowly towards Hongjoong’s crowded living room and flopped on the couch clumsily. His legs spread in an attempt to feel his body and his hands rested on each side of his body as he swallowed a few times with effort. The aforementioned man has been gone for a while now. Last time he saw Hongjoong, was when a girl was dragging him into his bedroom, both probably too drunk and ready to relieve all the accumulated sexual tension built through drinking and dancing on each other. His eyes couldn’t stay open anymore, he let them fall shut as his head rested on the back of the couch. He needed some quiet for once, maybe he should leave but only after he feels ready to walk to his own apartment. He knew this would happen and he was wise enough not to ride his motorcycle that night. Every time he’s in Hongjoong’s, he always ends up like this, high and fucked up, but not like tonight. Tonight, he went beyond his limits, he was determined to get you out of his mind but all he succeeded in, was thinking of you more.

He almost felt peaceful for a bit until he felt someone straddling him and as he opened his eyes, a girl with too revealing clothes was sitting on his lap, already grinding on his crotch. He gasped at the sudden pressure on his cock and looked at her with heavy eyes “how about we go to the bathroom and you fuck me on the countertop, like this one time, remember?”, she whispered snuggling against his neck “I want those inked arms around my throat so bad”, she moaned but he couldn’t even remember who she was, let alone the fact that he was inside her in the recent past. In any other situation, he’d already be on his feet and up for some fun but now he only turned his head the other way, “I need to leave”.

“oh c’mon”, she tried to hug him but he was fast to break free from her embrace “I said I need to leave”, he moved her on the seat next to him and stood up, heading for the door.

“dude, are you leaving already?”, Wooyoung shouted from the other side of the apartment but Yunho only wore his leather jacket and moved his two fingers, gesturing goodbye to him.

Once he was home, the bed seemed more captivating than a hot shower. His legs couldn’t keep him up longer, after all. Everything was still spinning, except now he’s in the safety of his own home and random girls aren’t coming up to him asking for sex in bathrooms. He fell asleep in a matter of seconds and, maybe, these little hours he slept where the only ones you weren’t wandering around his mind, in the conscious part, at least.

-------------------------------------------

Waking up early everyday to study isn’t the easiest thing, especially when you work late every night. If you wanna keep your health you’ll have to quit that job, but for now you need the money it offers.

Lately all your days are either spent in the library or in a cafe, studying for the upcoming exams and the nights...they’re always spent in the bar, moving around filled glasses and taking them back empty. And that’s exactly what’s happening now and you still have an hour to go till you can get back to the warmth of your sweet home.

Bars are...lovely. Well, not your favourite places to be, but considering that most youths spend their time in clubs, bars are much more preferred. The music is low enough to share a good conversation with someone, but still loud enough to enjoy the melodies themselves. The decoration is much more genteel than clubs and cafes, the clients more kind and free to come in dressed in anything they find pretty or comfortable. The vibes are more chill, collected, nonchalant, if you will, and there’s a balance in everything that’s hard to find in other places.

You’ve been moving around beautifully decorated cocktails all night and if it wasn’t for the -not so high- heels you’ve been wearing, you’d be enjoying doing so. You can feel your heels and ankles starting to burn but there’s only an hour left, you can do it.

Once you were back to take the newly made drinks from the bartender, the door of the bar opened fast and a male entered. Usually, you know who enters. The bar is small and by far not one of the famous ones in the city, so the clients are pretty much the same and especially on weekends. But this one…no, you didn’t know him. He wore black jeans and a black leather jacket with a white t-shirt underneath. You noticed the brown timberland shoes, not many people around you wear those, and his features…you couldn’t identify them due to the sunglasses he was wearing and his head that hang low. This man really entered a bar which already had dim lighting, at 2AM, with sunglasses on. Your eyebrows furrowed and the bartender gestured for you to take his order once he was sat. A helmet hang from the man’s right hand and moving slowly, he found a table on the very back of the place to sit. It felt like you were in a movie, where a stranger enters a pub, and everyone stares at him until he takes a gun out and starts shooting.

You moved to his table with your mind still on how your feet hurt and spoke politely “hello, what can I get for you?”

“you”

“excuse me?”

He raised his head and your insides felt like they twisted…not in the bad way, actually exactly the opposite. Yunho stared at you, you assumed, but after he took the sunglasses off you were sure he did. But he wasn’t the same. Even with the dim lighting of the place you could see how his eyes were red, he must’ve been (crying) smoking something. It wouldn’t be beyond belief, if he did.

“I wanna talk to you”, he spoke with a deep voice and it reminded you of his voice the night of the dare.

“I’m sorry, I’m working. Now what can I get for you?”

“when’s your shift over? I’ll wait”, he spoke fast as he rested his elbows on the table, moving his upper body forward. His body language proved tension spreading in his system and his voice sounded desperate, but you couldn’t figure out why.

“what can I get for you?”

“please”

“is a whiskey fine?”

“it’s important”

“is a whiskey fine?”

“…yeah”

He stayed there, drinking and following you with his gaze. Truth is, there was nothing for you to talk about, even if you really wanted to, too. The only real interaction you had was that night and you had made it clear to him that it should be forgotten and especially not be told to anyone. Yet there he was now, wanting to talk to you and God knows how he found out you worked there.

When it striked 3AM, you headed for the ‘employees’ only’ room to change the uncomfortable outfit and the even more uncomfortable shoes. Your mind was still on Yunho though who was out there waiting for you and a million questions flooded your mind. How did he find out about the bar you’re working for? What is the important thing he wants to talk to you about? Will he follow you to your apartment? And what- “hey”, you flinched at the sudden voice and turned your head fast only to see him right in the entrance.

“you’re not allowed to be in here”, you said calmly as you tied your second shoelace.

“I need to talk to you”

“we have nothing to say, now please leave. Only employees can enter here”, you stood up, heading for your locker to take your forest green jacket as he remained silent. You wore it fast and took your backpack, ready to leave but once you turned around he was there, right behind you with his head bent forward to reach your eye level.

“fuck, you scared me”, your back hit the locker and your hand reached for your chest where your heart beat faster at the abrupt presence.

“I felt something”

“I told you to leave, I’ll call the manager”

“I’ve never felt anything before…for anyone”

“YUNHO, LEAVE”

“you still remember my name”, he smiled and let his eyes fall on your lips and you really thought he must be high on something.

An awkward silence filled the room and his words got replayed in your head “ask that one more time and I’ll make sure you never forget it again”. He had achieved it…you couldn’t forget his name ever again. You couldn’t forget anything that happened that night ever again.

You looked anywhere but at him until he grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger and forced your head up to look in his eyes. The inked thumb played with your bottom lip, lightly pulling it down to expose your bottom teeth as his eyes remained glued on yours. You fought the urge to suck on it, but your knees weakened just at the thought. He looked good, like a god in your eyes.

“You made me like this”, he pointed at himself.

“like what?”

“look at me, I’m a wreck!”

“I did nothing!”

“I can’t get you out of my fucking head! I keep trying and trying but-!”

“Yunho, please leave”, you pressed your eyebrows together, raising them at the same time. If he continued you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your thoughts locked inside your mind for long.

“You’re ruining me!”

He widened his eyes and his voice got higher at that, like he just realized. If only he knew he was ruining you, too…but you thought he was ruining you in a completely different way. You had succeeded in winning the dare, but not in what he had warned you about. Not one day had passed without thinking of him and you were so mad at yourself for that, yet you couldn’t stop it. And every time you’d randomly see him on campus, your mind would go back to the dare and how he held you and how he had stopped his hands from moving when he realized you weren’t comfortable and how you so wanted to know him more than that, to know the real him. You were falling for him but, of course, you wouldn’t accept it. It’s not logical, you can’t fall for someone you don’t know. However, it all felt familiar. It felt like you were, again, reading one of those -way too corny- romantic novels in which the girl fell for the bad guy. They always ended with the guy taking the one thing he wanted and the girl having a broken heart and right now…you feel like you are the protagonist in one of those novels and he…he’s only there to take that one thing he always wants (however, me as the omniscient writer, I can guarantee you he meant you were ruining him the same way he ruined you).

“fuck, I need you”, he crashed his lips on yours fast, still holding your chin and now his other hand found your waist and held on it tightly but still loosely enough for you to break free if you wanted, but you didn’t. Your eyes fluttered close and you gave in, in an instant. How could you not? All you’ve been thinking about is him, but you knew it wasn’t right. He is Yunho, he’s a player, he’s nothing like you, he’s not for you. But the sweetness of the awry is too captivating not to give in. Your lips moved against his in an open mouthed kiss, your tongues danced together and your saliva got mixed with his, until he groaned and broke the kiss in need of air. You rested your head against the locker and looked up at him, his head hang low again…

“don’t you have anything to say?”, he spoke softly and you realized it was the first time you ever heard him talk like that, without anger or sarcasm in his voice.

“what do you expect me to say?”, you were too stuck to your mindset to notice the little things “that I’m glad you can’t forget how well you fucked me or to thank you for coming back for a second round?”, it hurt to say these. But Yunho was always a player, he always slept with girls and never spoke to them again and you obviously were one of them now.

“what? No”

“then what?”

“don’t you understand?” his eyebrows furrowed as he took a step back to take all your features in “I’ve never felt anything like this before. It was all about sex to me…always! I only cared about that. I only wanted my needs to be taken care of but that night…of the dare, I felt things for you and I got so fucking scared…that wasn’t me!”, a vein on his forehead was visible “I’ve warned all the girls I’ve ever been with not to catch feelings for me because I won’t be there for them. I’m not the type to get in relationships because attachment, that shit scares me! Yet, after we…did it, it hurt me to think I was only your way to win a game, a fucking game!”

“maybe it was your turn to feel how the girls you’re playing with, really feel”

That hurt.

He stayed silent for a bit. His mind was hazy and he couldn’t lie to himself, he had thought that this was the revenge that had been waiting for him.

“I’m a fucking asshole and I deserved it and maybe…this was a lesson for me but-” his expression proved pain “I can’t stop thinking about you and I hate myself for that…”

“…because I wanted to be more than just a dare to you…”

Your heart felt like it’d fly out of your chest and your breath got caught in your throat.

“…but I know I can’t change your mind about me, goddamnit!”

His fist hit the locker next to you, before turning around to walk in the room. Your heart clenched, realizing the meaning of his words. You weren’t the only one feeling differently. His head looked towards the ceiling and the new silence that filled the place gave you the chance to think and, maybe, now you know why his eyes have been red and it’s not from smoking something.

He’s hurting…and it’s the first time he’s feeling something like this, this type of pain.

He is finding himself, the self that’s been hiding under the tough, bad guy image he��s exposing to everyone. He needed this pain to finally see inside him and find the real him.

But he was wrong about one thing. You never had a complete opinion about him, therefore there was nothing for him there to change. There was only empty space where he could build the image about him in your head, and you wanted him to do that. You wanted him to put the foundations of his real image.

“Yunho”

“I’ve never let myself get attached to anyone but I only now realized that it’s uncontrollable. All this time I wasn’t controlling who I’ll get attached to and who not, it just didn’t happen…until I met you”. He, finally, turned to face you again.

He walked close to you again “and I know this will make me sound like a loser and, maybe, I am but…I think I’m falling for you”.

Your heart skipped a couple of beats, you’re sure about that, but his eyes were the most genuine ones you’ve seen in a while “Yunho-”

He shushed you by inhaling, ready to speak again but you were fast to prevent him “no, Yunho let me talk”, his eyes seemed sad but you got a hold of his hands that hang on each side of his body, to bring his attention back on you.

“I think I’m falling for you too”

You said fast and his breath got caught in his throat. Of course he didn’t expect to hear that. Your mind was going crazy at the moment with all the things you wanted to say but decided to only speak the important ones.

“…but I don’t think it’s right. You’ve been playing with girls all your life Yunho, maybe it’s in your nature, I don’t know…”

“but I can’t lie, I can’t stop thinking about you either…”, your eyes flickered between his.

You wanted him and he wanted you, it was obvious by both parties by now. You were willing to help him discover his real self and you were especially willing to let yourself fall in love but you were too inexperienced too to bear the pain it could cause you, if it didn’t work out.

“…I felt things too you know but you don’t know, even a little, how love feels and I can’t just be your lab rat, just one more experience for you. I can’t let myself fall deep and then have my heart shattered, I can’t take it!”, your eyebrows raised sympathetically and tears threatened to wet your cheeks.

“I know how it is to feel loved and now…I think I’m ready to be the one who loves, I’m ready to learn and-”

“I’m scared, Yunho”, your eyes met the marbled floor between your bodies.

“I’m scared too”

Both of you weren’t the most experienced people when it came to love and, especially, Yunho. But you wanted to try and learn and, even, fall for each other and Yunho didn’t want to give up on the first strong feelings he’s ever had. This meant something.

“but we can…”

“…discover ourselves together…just give me a chance-”, he held your hands in his. His eyes were glistening, like a million pieces of hope were in them.

“I don’t know, Yunho”

“let me make this work out and, maybe, if everything turns out well…I can call you mine”

Those tears that had been threating to fall, did wet your cheeks now as you looked at him again. No one had ever told you something like this before and you never thought you’d hear it for the first time from him. Yunho isn’t the guy everyone thought he was, he is much more than that. Maybe, he’s the meaning behind the saying: don’t judge a book by its cover. Yunho had never let his real emotions take over him and even if those emotions tried, he had his self locked up. It’s like his hidden self couldn’t take it anymore and when he met you the real him broke free from the cage Yunho, himself, had him locked up. If you connected all the dots, it made sense now. Yunho isn’t just a player, he’s an unexperienced boy who only wants to feel real attraction, instead of just the physical one. And maybe if you gave him the chance, he would.

“and I want to call you mine, too”

You’re indeed the protagonist of your own romantic novel but, no, this one won’t end like all the others.

“hell, I so wanna call you mine”, you shut your eyes tightly and exhaled…and your next words got Yunho dumbfounded.

“…let’s take it slowly…”

“…let’s start by being friends”

Yunho’s heart had never clenched so hard before. He thought he’d lose his balance right then and there and collapse like a child who had just found out that his brother had eaten the very precious sweet he’s been hiding from everyone. A soft frown found his lips as he spoke the first words that came to his dizzy mind.

“can friends do this?”

He cupped your cheeks and you felt his thumbs rub your apples, but you were the one to lean in this time. You kissed him hesitantly but he kissed back with no second thoughts. You didn’t wanna be his friend…you wanted to kiss his neck and his lips and his cheeks and all his being and, maybe, love him too. He took your arm and threw it over his shoulder and you wrapped them both around his neck. This kiss was slower than before, more passionate like there was meaning behind it. A tingling feeling was sent down your spine when you noticed none of you rushed to make it deeper. It was just enough to feel how the emotions he was experiencing were new to him and you were sure now, you’re willing to help him welcome them.

“because, if they can, I don’t think I’ll be able to call you friend for long”

“friends don’t do what I’m about to do either”, you said and let your hand slide down all the way from his neck, through his t-shirt, and to his jeans and rested it on his soft member. You didn’t know why you did that, but you knew the vibe was so different from the last time you had touched him there, more endearing, if you will. He stiffened sensibly and let his head hung low as a small moan left his lips. His hands found the hem of your t-shirt and, letting them slip underneath the fabric, he grasped your sides with the whole of his large palms.

Your lips found each other’s again in a sloppier kiss and with eyes flattered shut and heavy breaths against the other’s skin, your hand slipped under the jeans and the thin material of his boxers. You caressed him slowly, receiving a hum turned into a groan from him.

“yeah they don’t…but losers who fall for each other, do”

He said and pinched your sides making you take your hand out of his jeans. You stared at him for a while. Maybe if you both tried, you could learn together and you could fall together and you could help each other find your real selves.

Collecting his thoughts, for the first time after a long time, Yunho took your hand in his. You walked out of the ‘employees only’ room and the bar, with him guiding you like you didn’t know the place.

“Let me take my friend on a friend date for friends”

“I would accept if it wasn’t 4am…”

You wouldn’t be able to call him friend for long, either…

#ateez yunho #bad boy! yunho #yunho angst #yunho smut #yunho fluff #jeong yunho #kpop fics #kpop scenarios #ateez #ateez scenarios #Idek why I've been so insecure over bad boy! Yunho #Im sorry for ranting on the a/n about that I really have messy thoughts lately and idk if you can tell by my fics too #this may be way too fictional but it had to be doneee (especially the ending)#bias tag: ♔

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