#was trying to put something coherent together but I have felt really drained from getting covid | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stutterfly · 3 years

Text

Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 15.1K

Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.

CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.

At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.

While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.

It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.

You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.

You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.

Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.

Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.

Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.

You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.

You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?

When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.

[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]

How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.

You: I told you not to fucking find me on here

It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.

Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you

Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me

You: Don’t worry I’m gonna

Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh

You: ???

Jungkook: Your legs

Jungkook: Like oreos

Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜

Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.

You: I wish I could unread 🤢

Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites

Jungkook: Just like you 😘

You: 🙄

You: I hate you so much

Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?

You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.

Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀

You: It means I’m tired

Jungkook: Of?

You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.

Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?

Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴

Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.

You: You know what? I want you

FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.

You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.

Jungkook: 😈

Jungkook: My place

Jungkook: Ten minutes

You: *to stay off my profile

Jungkook: 👉👌?

You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT

You: 🤢🤢🤢

Jungkook: 😩

Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess

Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴

You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego

Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here

He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.

Jungkook: Hey quick question

Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻

Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.

There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?

You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?

Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.

You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.

The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.

He forgot.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.

It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.

“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”

“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”

“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.

As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.

“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.

You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”

“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”

Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.

Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.

He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.

With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.

Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.

You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?

You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."

“What?"

“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”

You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.

“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”

Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.

“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”

Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?

“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”

Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."

As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.

Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.

You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.

"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.

“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”

Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?

“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”

“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.”

“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”

Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?

“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”

“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”

“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”

“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.

“Zip up your hoodie.”

You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.

Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.

“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”

Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”

Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”

Even he knows that argument is flimsy.

“Guk.”

“It was always just a joke.”

“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”

Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.

Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.

Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”

“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”

“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”

“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”

“Yeah.”

“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”

“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.

"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"

The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.

"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."

You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”

Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.

After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.

"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.

He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”

“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.

“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”

“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.

Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.

You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”

“Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”

In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”

“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”

“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.

“With beef,” he agrees.

“Gyoza?”

“Mhm.”

“And takoyaki?”

“...You’re pushing it.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”

He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”

“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.

“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”

“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.

"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"

You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.

"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.

Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?

“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.

Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.

“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.

“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.

"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”

He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.

“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.

The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”

“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”

Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”

“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.

He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”

Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.

“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.

“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”

“What? When?”

“The other day. We hung out.”

He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.

“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”

Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”

“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”

“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.

“You guys talked about me?”

“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.

Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”

“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”

“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”

You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”

“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”

You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”

Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”

“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”

“Y/N.”

“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”

“We allowed to talk about Jason?”

“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”

He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”

“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. “Good vibes only.”

“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”

You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.

You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”

He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”

You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.

“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”

His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”

He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.

“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”

“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”

“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”

“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”

“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.

If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.

“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”

He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.

NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to

JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry

JUNGKOOK: I got u

Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.

“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.

“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”

Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”

He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.

“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”

Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?

“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.

Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.

As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.

You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.

It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.

He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.

When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”

He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.

“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”

He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”

Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.

“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.

Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.

“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.

The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.

The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"

"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.

You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.

Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.

"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"

He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.

The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"

His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"

You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."

He nods. "Mm. We can split it."

"Um, how about... tempura?"

"Banana?"

Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.

The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."

The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.

“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."

"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.

He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."

“Oh, really?”

You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.

“I’ve been a dick.”

“No shit.”

Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”

How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.

“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”

“You don’t say.”

That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.

“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you mumble.

“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?

“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”

Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”

It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.

He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”

“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”

“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”

“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.

“For real.”

You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”

He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.

“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”

You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”

He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”

He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”

“I want that in writing,” you snort.

Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.

You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.

Princess

I’m sorry. I can make it right.

I promise. Please give me another chance.

If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.

As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook

Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.

“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”

His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.

“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”

He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.

“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.

“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.

“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.

Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”

Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”

“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”

Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”

“Joonie—”

“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”

“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”

As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.

Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”

“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”

The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”

The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.

“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.

Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.

“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.

Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”

Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”

Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.

A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?

His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.

You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.

He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.

It’s also kind of cute.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.

After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.

It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.

Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.

As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.

“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.

He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”

“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.

Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.

“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.

Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.

“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”

“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.

“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.

His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.

“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.

“Like, full body?”

“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”

“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.

“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.

“Which one?”

The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.

“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”

You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.

“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.

“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”

“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.

He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”

He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”

The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”

He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”

“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”

“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”

“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.

He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”

“Really.”

You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.

“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”

The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?

“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”

“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.

“I hear a pop.”

“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.

“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”

“Oh no. Knees?”

“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”

His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”

“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”

“Uhh…”

“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”

“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”

You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?

“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”

The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.

“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.

“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”

“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”

His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”

As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.

Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.

It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.

Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.

“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”

“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.

Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”

You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?

Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.

You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.

Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.

Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.

“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”

Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”

“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.

“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.

“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.

“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”

He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”

You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.

“I think… A lot.”

“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.

Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.

Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.

“So…” he begins.

You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.

“I was thinking. About that guy…”

You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.

“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“

Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?

“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.

It's cry hours, isn’t it?

Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”

“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.

“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”

It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?

‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.

“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”

He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”

If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.

“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”

A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.

Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.

"It's late. I should sleep."

Or masturbate.

The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."

"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"

"Just wanna stop spinning."

His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.

"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."

"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.

“You gonna make it there?”

“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.

"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.

Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.

You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.

He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.

“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.

While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.

Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.

You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.

Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.

"Princess?"

Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.

You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.

Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?

Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.

But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.

The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.

“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.

He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.

Oh shit.

You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok’s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.

“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.

The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”

You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?

Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.

Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.

Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."

Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"

As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?

He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.

“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.

You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”

He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” you mumble.

As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.

The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.

He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.

Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.

He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.

Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.

He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.

#smutcentralnet #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #bts fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic

827 notes · View notes

genshingarbage · 3 years

Note

Could I request any boys of your choice where they’ve had an exhausting day and their s/o says they should take a nap on their lap? Thank you!

Cute boi hours again? Yes <3 Sleepy time awe! I am gonna pick a very select few that i think this works well with, so i hope you're okay with the hand picked few ;) - Mod Diluc

Rest My Love.

|| Head Cannons ||

Kazuha/Diluc/Xiao/Kaeya

Kazuha

He was beat, exhausted and aching, every muscle in his body ached like something fierce. But, who ever said the life of a lone wandering samurai was gonna be a breeze? Yea, that's right- no one. Because it sure as hell wasn't. He was use to feeling this way yet somehow it still made him just as grouchy as the first time.

He walked into the small building that was titled as your homestead and yawned; stretching his arms out he heard a few odd bones pop from the pressure, it relieved some of his tension but not nearly enough for it to be actually satisfying. With a huff he removed some of his more heavy going clothing, including his shoes, till he was more loose and relaxed.

He shuffled slowly into the house, trying not to wake you. You were his lover and so him coming to your home was somewhat normal now, but he often was away for large periods of time, and he never liked to disturb you. Specially when you're busy. Which you were, you had your nose deep between the pages of a gripping story written so entrancing like from a book. So much for his first theory that you'd be asleep at this time, huh?

He tried to creep past you as you read, but you wasn't born yesterday. So with a roll of your eyes and a soft exhale from your nose you spoke out. "Kazuha. Welcome home hun." You didn't even bother to turn your head around to him, you knew fully well he was frozen in his steps now, eyes wide like a doe caught in headlights. He blinked a few times before sorting himself back to his normal standing position and chuckling awkwardly, a breif rub to the back of his neck ensued.

"Ah, yea, I'm uh- yea. I'm home, thanks Y/N. I really didn't wanna disturb you there." He spoke softly and with great regret; like he'd just committed an awful crime. You simply closed the book after having bent the tip of the page you were on, as to know where to start off when you return to it, and placed the item down on the small table infront of your sofa. "Kazuha, it's fine... I was only reading a book." You chuckled gently.

"I know, but... it felt wrong to interupt you so abruptly specially when you seemed so into it-" you'd twisted your torso ever so slightly so your eyes could lay on his now, your heart almost broke, he looked absolutely shattered- like all life was drained from him. Just what had this crazy man gotten up to in his absence? "Kazuha- oh my goodness. Look at you! You're about to pass out."

He smiled politely and waved his hand side to side as if dusting your worry back into the wind. "Nah, I'm a lil tired that's all. I'm gonna have a lie down, I'll be right as rain after." He went to go back to making his way to the exit of your living room, that is until you called out ever so gently. "Or well, I wouldn't mind if you rested your head on my lap." A faint blush flushed your cheeks. He turned to face you yet again. Blinking several times over again.

"Really?" He tilted his head almost like a curious puppy, he has no idea how cute he is sometimes. "I mean, sure why not? You've not been home for over a month. I do get lonely ya know, the company would feel nice, and your presence is always warm and welcoming." You smiled sweetly at him and he returned the expression with full earnest. Nodding softly he made his way to the sofa, where you rested, and now reshuffled and organised yourself to get into a more comfy position.

It wasn't long before he was laying on his side with his head nestled into your lap, breathing softly as your hand gently rested adorn his head of hair. "Mmh. You're right, this beats sleeping alone any day." He hummed sleepily to you, by the way his voice was giving out you could tell he was close to succumbing to his slumber already. With a gentle smile still planted across your lips you hushed him softly.

"Shh, rest now. My Kazuha." You began to hum a quaint little lullaby that had him snoring in under three minutes. This man, he works himself so hard, but still, it's one of the reasons you love him so much, the fact he's hard working and never gives in. And you have the comfort in your mind of knowing whenever he gets this tired again, he'll have you here to be by his peaceful sleeping side everytime. Now and forever.

Diluc

The sky was a beautiful orange and red tone, the colours mixed so beautifully, with the white fluffy clouds scattered around too, it looked like a stunning evening. You were sat alone at the dinner table again, your chin resting on your opened palm, your eyelids half shut to block the rays of the last bit of presence from the sun.

The candles had long since burned out and the beautiful sweet honeyed roast you'd prepare with such delicacy and tender care was going cold. Diluc was suppose to be home over thirty-five minutes ago, he promised he'd make it in time for whatever dinner the maids threw together tonight, he wasn't aware you'd taken it upon yourself to lovingly prepare tonight's meal for him.

You couldn't be mad at the man; or hold a grudge for that matter, you knew what type of person he was, you knew he wasn't one for sticking to plans and promises, he simply couldn't be with the work he has, not to mention his little sun down hobby that you became privy too after several years with the crimson haired gentleman. If there was one thing you were grateful for, it was the fact you knew without doubt he truly did love you. And in a way that was enough for you.

It was sundown now and your dinner had long been since tidied up by the maids, with a somewhat solemn look to your face you'd decided to go to bed early that night. Knowing Diluc, he wouldn't be home for hours to come anyway. Your eyes were just starting ache and your eyelids were starting to feel heavy for you now. Breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth softly you let your body sink further into the warm embracing sheets.

Click.

Your eyes slowly opened back up when you heard the all too familiar noise of your bedroom door opening, narrowing your eyes slightly to help adjust to the dim glow of the room, the small aid of illumination being provided solely by your nightstand candle. It wasn't hard to make out who it was however, since his deep red hair practically danced from the slight glow of the flicking flame.

"Diluc." It came out more like a whisper which you never intended for it too, but you were so gripped by tiredness now it was hard to sound more awake at the given circumstances. "Sorry for waking you my dear, wasn't my intention." You hummed softly in response and then watched as best as you could as he removed his attire and shoes, stripping down to just his boxers.

Gripping the band that kept his hair up was the last part, with a tug his hair flew down and waved apart, you kept a watchful eye on him. As it was when his hair was down that he was always at his most tired and vulnerable mental state now. "The maids told me Y/N." He still sounded strict, or at least he was trying his best too. But his voice wavered in every sense of the word.

The bed dipped beside you as his weight was added to the mattress now, a small groan escaping his lips. You knew what he meant, it wasn't a surprise the maids told him you'd prepared the dinner today, you'd just wish they'd not sometimes, to avoid adding more stress to the man's poor ordeals. "It's fine, it was just a small attempt. I'm not exactly the best cook to begin wit-"

The poorly sounding wince from him cut you off, the failed attempt to stifle it and keep it under wraps didn't go unnoticed. You narrowed your eyes at the man beside you in bed now, and then you saw. He was littered with cuts and bruises, they surely must hurt, why didn't he say anything? Scratch that. He never tells you anyway, thinking its better that way. Silly man.

With a gentle huff you shook your head, shuffling your weight and sitting up ever so slightly, your back pressing against the several puffed pillows under you. "Enough of that. Come here darling." It was your turn to sound strict however, and for once he didn't fight back. Your heart tugged at you slightly as you felt the weight shifting around beside you and then were suddenly graced with the feeling of his head nuzzling into your lap.

You took it upon yourself to softly begin to caress his head, letting your hand stroke and massage the man's hair and scalp. The groans and sighs that left him were evidence enough he was in a blissful state right now, your sweet Diluc. Always putting his life on the line to protect those less fortunate than him, when will he learn? That his life matters just as much. Sigh.

You heard a soft mutter from him, something along the lines of 'sorry' and 'dinner'. But he was already taken by the nights calming embrace to be formulating anything coherent now, so you closed your eyes with another soft shake of your head and continued to massage his head. Till both you and your hand laid still, silent, asleep. Whatever he'd done tonight, whatever reason he'd missed dinner, it didn't matter. As long as he loved you it was enough. It always has been, it always will be.

Xiao

The stars twinkled softly an slowly, looking so entrancing from down below, the dark blue sky washing above you with the dazzling twinkles looking like small fire flies dancing around. You stood there, your knee bent slightly as your weight was supported by the banister of the top balcony to Wangshu Inn. Any minute now, you thought to yourself calmly.

And is if on que a sudden and harsh breeze blew past you, followed up with a loud thud. You turned your head ever so slightly, seeing the young looking yaksha lifting back up from his crouch landing position. "Welcome home honey." you said somewhat stone like, to which you got a simple sounding 'Tsk' as response, as he chucked his spear lazily behind him, to which it dissolved away instantly.

You rolled your eyes to the quiet scoff that greeted you back, shaking your head slowly, your eyes went back to focus on the landscape below you from the viewpoint of the balcony. It was so peaceful and beautiful. "How has your day been?" You decided to question him further, all while remaining your focus elsewhere.

"Fine." he responded in short. This type of reply was normal to you now, he wasn't the talkative type, despite having been the first to say to you he loved you. "Well, that's good then." you said back in your normal sweet tone now. You could tell from that tone in his voice he was exhausted, he didn't have to say or do anything, you could just tell.

Thinking it was best to leave now and give him his privacy you turned away from the balcony and began to walk to the exit. "I will let you rest my love, see you soo-"

"Wait."

His voice was louder than its ever been round you, the faint flush on his cheeks was evidence enough he never intended for it to come out so loudly from his own mouth. "Xiao?" you turned back round, seeing him stood there looking like a somewhat lost lamb, it was damn cute.

"S...stay with me, ... please."

His voice, so soft, so sweet, so gentle. You felt your heart crack slightly, your poor adeptus, he must've been rushed off his feet tonight. The dark bags forming under his eyes said all you needed to hear.

Chewing your bottom lip softly you breathed in and then walked over to him slowly. "Xiao..." you whispered his name lovingly, his eyes met with yours and for a brief moment the air left your lungs, the sight of his exhausted face so close to you, actively seeking comfort within you, it was enough to melt the coldest of icebergs.

Letting your hand slip into his with a gentle squeeze, a small smile on your lips you led him down the stairs of the Inn, into your bedroom, a tidy and quaint little sleeping quarter. He needed to rest, he is pushing himself too much, and if you do not take action, he never will.

Climbing onto the bed once you'd abandoned your shoes on the carpet you looked up at him, laying in a relaxing position. The red on his cheeks only flushed deeper and darker, and you couldn't help but laugh softly. Such a lewd mind, oh my, you never expected him to get the wrong idea over a situation like this.

"Xiao- no... not that." you chuckled at his confused expression, he was so alien to the concept of just touch in general now, that to him he sees it so black and white, being close means being intimate, otherwise why get close? So it was up to you to show him the ways of being human again.

You let your hand softly pet and stroke your lap and he raised his brow, but seeing the sudden light in his eyes spark showed you he caught on to what you really were aiming for. So he hesitantly dipped onto the bed next to you, he was tense and his movements were awkward, but he eventually shuffled his head and body to lay down with his head nestled softly into your lap.

"Is this... okay?" he muttered it nervously, like he was scared the slightest movement would shatter everything around him. You looked down at him and gently kissed your fingers, pressing them against his lips in response. "Shh, rest my love, you need it." Just to further add to what you were saying you let your hand gently rub the outer ridge of his ear.

The blush eventually left his cheeks, the tensed muscles finally went lax and his breathing grew heavier and more unguarded, with a pleased hum from your lips you closed your eyes too and began to succumb to the sweet calling of slumber too.

As long as he has you, you will always be there to help[ him, he may be an adeptus, a yaksha, but you? He is just as human as you or anyone else. Wrath filled or not. He is and always will be your sweet little adeptus. Your perfect lover. Your Xiao.

Kaeya

Another late night and you sat cuddled up on the sofa scanning through several paintings, more specifically paintings that you had done over the course of several months. It was a hobby of yours, but with the aid of Albedo giving you tips and throwing you pointers here and there you'd become surprisingly good at it; who would've guessed you'd secretly be an artist in hiding? Not you that's for sure.

It was fun enough to help tide over the unsettling impatience that always started to bubble under your skin at least, specially on nights like this, where Kaeya, your boyfriend, who also happened to be the Calvary Captain for the Knights of Favonius was out at an ungodly late time, dealing with a suspicion of criminal activities, within the borders of Mondstadt.

He never broke his promises to you thus far, of which were he will always return safely home to you, but it never did fully destroy the raging thunder of worry that often seized your mind on a daily, who could blame you? The man was always in such dangerous predicaments. Who knew if this morning, or any morning for that matter, where you kissed him goodbye, would be the last time you ever would see his face when you waved him off?

It isn't his fault you know this, but you do wish that sometimes he would be cut slack, just a little, so you could for once not have to distract yourself with idle glances of your paintings while waiting for his return. If only every now and then Jean, The Acting Grand Master would just let him have a day off-

Click.

You jumped slightly upon hearing the noise of your front door not open, but actually close. Turning your head you saw Kaeya stood there, arms covering his chest in a crossed way, a raised brow prominent as he glared down at you. "How long have you been worrying?" His voice sounded so flat and monotone, almost a hint of exhaustion. Was he growing tired of your over worried nature?

"I... uh. uhm..." You were at a loss for words, how long had you been worrying exactly? Two, three hours now? You were unsure of the answer yourself. He shook his head and sighed out slowly, it was long and drawn out; he must be so tired from his work today, seeing you up at this hour acting like a child probably doesn't help his situation in the least.

You looked down sadly, feeling ashamed and guilty of yourself because you do this oh so often to him, he always prays your in bed, safely tucked up and lost in your own dreams before he gets home, but you never are, you're always awake and worried, your face far from the peaceful look he often daydreams you having.

"It doesn't matter anymore my little petal." He hums softly as he walks around the sofa to get within arms reach, crouching onto his own weight to scoop you up, your mind in shock you let the paintings slip from your grip and pool around the seat you were just in and the floor underneath you. "Whe- Kaeya?"

"Shh, it is time to head to the bedroom." He spoke so matter factually, which left you eyes wide and beet red, to which he glanced down and a smug chuckle slipped from him. "For sleep Y/N." You relaxed instantly, a sigh escaping you. "Unless of course, you want the other thing?" You squirmed, embarrassed beyond belief, he loved to teased you. "Quit it Kaeya!" You pouted at him, to which he just chuckled at lightly, planting a soft kiss on your head.

Once in the bedroom he drops you so you fall and sink into the softness of your mattress and covers, to which he joins you quickly after. Now both in bed he simply huffs as he turns and crawls around before you feel his head find its preferred resting place; your lap. You smile and gently chuckle. "May i?" He asks just a tad bit too late for permission.

"You're already laying there Kaeya, bit late for the formalities now." You roll your eyes and turn to blow the candle out, leaving you both in darkness and silence, just your soft and gentle breathing in unison as you stroke and massage his head, to which he groans gently in delight too. He is so sweet when he sleeps on your lap like this, you feel closer to him now than you ever normally do, unless you involve the factor of intimacy sexually.

Its calming and sweet, and it helps you remember that he will always keep his promise to you,

He will always come home safely.

149 notes · View notes

delimeful · 3 years

Text

you cant go back (3)

warnings: panic, miscommunication, trafficking, non-consensual drug use, suicidal thoughts, food, mentions of torture, cliffhanger, these tags make it sound worse than it is tbh

When Virgil first opened his eyes, jerked out of sleep by sharp instinctual alarm, he’d thought for a moment that he was still dreaming.

It was the same face, after all, even with how frighteningly close it was, even with a vastly different expression painted across it. He’d been confused, almost relieved-- had they gotten away after all?-- and then he’d realized just what the Deathworlder had in their arms.

He’d lunged and come up short, forced to watch as the Human kept their arms locked around Patch even as the creature made unhappy little noises he’d never heard from it before.

It was so small compared to the Human, easily tucked under an arm and managed regardless of protests. Did they have no respect for the deadly grace of the other creatures on this planet?

They’d circled him from a distance, ignoring his warning twitches and outright hisses as thoroughly as they ignored Patch, and all he could do was watch, locked in place, hoping that Human prey drive wasn’t as high as all the rumors said.

And then the Human had left, taking Patch with them, and Virgil had been left to watch their fading heat signature and pray to Seryl that whatever the Human did would be quick. For both of them.

It wasn’t that easy, of course. The Human wanted something from him, badly.

He thought he had a fair idea of what-- or rather, who-- it was.

After all, he’d seen a near-perfect mirror of them, sitting bound and muzzled in their transfer ship’s holding cell where a Human absolutely shouldn’t be. Leond and her Second had been unnaturally gleeful for rotations before Virgil finally found out about the ‘successful pickup’, namely through stumbling across it by doing the routine security and safety checks that he didn’t trust the rest of these idiots to do themselves.

They’d cut him off before he could get to a comm to tell Janus, cornered him in the tight cell block hall, and offered him a deal: his silence for a cut of the immense earnings they would make from renting out a Human to any and all fighting rings.

He remembered the way the Human’s gaze had flickered between him and the others curiously as he argued, the way they’d struggled to bare their teeth derisively at Leond, even through the bars of their muzzle and the haze of whatever they’d been drugged with. It was one of the last things he’d seen before he’d ‘made a fuss’ big enough that his own crew had tranq’d him and ditched him on-planet to die.

“You’re right,” Leond had said, face smooth in the way that meant smug satisfaction for her species. “We haven’t fulfilled our half of the exchange, have we? We took an alien from that planet, so it’s only fair that we leave one behind.”

His limbs had been defensively raised since the beginning of the argument, but Virgil had fought side by side with these people before. They knew how to guard his blind spots, which meant that they knew his blind spots.

The Human had tried to speak through the muzzle, just before he’d heard the discharge sound of a tranq gun too close to dodge. He thought it might have been an attempted warning.

It hadn’t changed anything. He’d been the only one on that ship who’d opposed the Human’s abduction, and as a reward, he was going to be slowly interrogated to death by one of their clutchmates. The level of cruel irony was like something from one of Jan’s stupid operas.

Virgil felt another shudder of exhaustion. Stars, he hoped Janus would get out of there once he realized what they’d brought back. His best friend knew better than to fuck with Humans, and the crew clearly wasn’t going to listen to any interplanetary ethics lectures, so the best thing he could do was skip town. Better to rebuild than fall with the nest.

He hadn’t slept after the Human had left, flipping to his heat sensor vision and watching all night for their return, unable to relax after one of the most unpleasant awakenings of his life. And if it meant he didn’t dream about what could have happened to Patches, all the better.

The next day had come, and the Human returned, wielding that dull stick and asking more angry questions that Virgil couldn’t understand, let alone respond to.

The thing was, given enough time and exposure, he actually would be able to understand the specifics of what was wanted from him.

Like most long-term interstellar travelers, he had a Lator implant, and the more the Human talked at him, the more linguistic patterns and trends would be picked up and catalogued, making it much easier for him to put the pieces together.

Unfortunately, time wasn’t something he had an excess of.

Janus would have figured out at least the basics by now; in addition to being better with words, he’d gotten a more recent, effective upgrade to the implant’s software. Virgil had turned the offer down for himself, knowing that they needed to save money where they could, and figuring that he didn’t really need it. His job was to defend Janus. His First could handle the talking part of their missions on his own with ease, the chatterbox that he was.

It had seemed obvious at the time. A lot of good that logic was doing him now.

The Human said something at him, flashing his bone-white teeth as he spoke. Humans didn’t have guard plates over their mouths at all, and so every time this one turned to him, he felt as though they were either acting sickeningly overfamiliar or that they might lunge forward and try to bite him at any moment. He’d carefully kept his own plates locked, not willing to expose any teeth and have it mistaken for a challenge.

The Human was waiting expectantly. Virgil took a deep breath and replied, the same as he had every time he could, though he doubted Humans had access to translator implants.

“I am not here to harm anyone. I was abandoned here against my will. I can’t understand what you’re saying,” he recited in Guard-tongue, keeping the sentences brief and repetitive for easy translation pattern recognition.

The Human wasn’t extending him the same courtesy, his own sentences long-winded and full of unfamiliar concepts that kept tripping up the Lator programming. References, probably.

There was one Human word that he’d figured out fairly early on: Brother.

Clutchmate, family, the lookalike that was probably long gone by now.

He was almost glad that he couldn’t speak coherently. As it was, he didn’t have to be the one to break the news.

Almost, because the Human was stubbornly finding new and creative ways to freak him the hell out with each visit.

First, they’d figured out fairly quickly that he was slowly starving.

Virgil had flooded his plates right to pitch on their first meeting, and hadn’t been calm enough to stop the defensive reaction since, which had quickly drained what little hydration stores he’d had left. Between the drying out of his plates and the fact that he’d gotten too worked up and blacked out for a moment during an interrogation, his fading health wasn’t exactly subtle.

He’d panicked, because any enemy knowing his weakness was generally pretty fucking bad, let alone an enemy with personal motive and ability to twist that weakness like a knife in the spine.

The Human had verbally freaked out (a regular occurrence) and vanished for a while, before returning to the barn with an entire array of items (not a regular occurrence). They’d set the items out on flat fiber ‘plates’ and then slid them into range with that stupid stick.

Virgil had stabbed a few of them on principle before realizing that this was food, aided by the Human rolling his eyes pointedly-- a derisive gesture, he’d gathered-- and eating something from a plate of their own.

At that point, Virgil had been willing to risk poison. The way he saw it, he either died, or he ate something, and either way it meant stopping the slow, aching pain eating away at the pit of his stomach.

He’d even been willing to tolerate the Human staring at him, since apparently they didn’t have the manners to not watch a stranger eat. Or that wasn’t a thing on this planet. It didn’t really matter.

After a significant amount of time spent using his auxiliary limbs to delicately maneuver Human produce and meats into inspection range, he settled for what smelled the least concerning, avoiding any that smelled or looked too bright to be safe.

(The scrunched-up look the Human had given him after he’d crunched an egg in his throat had been hard to interpret, though.)

Anything he could safely ingest, he’d eaten. After the Human left, he’d even attempted the indignity of trying to lift the bowl of water in range with wobbly limbs, though he’d almost immediately spilled the majority of it all over himself. It didn’t matter, he could pull any and all hydration from what he’d eaten, though he didn’t dare get used to it.

This wasn’t his first time above the nest, and he hadn’t fooled himself into believing that this shocking show of generosity would last. The Human had only done it to make sure that their hostage wouldn’t keel over.

Starvation and dehydration were more-than-effective methods of hands-off torture, after all, and the Human really only needed to give him enough to keep him alive.

The impending mistreatment shouldn’t have shaken him as much as it did. He had the advantage of the Human’s ignorance on how much Chelcerae ate, and his own resilience, developed from years of scraping by on the barest of rations. He was lucky, really, to be one of the species with a water-storing organ.

Still, he spent the night wondering if it was worth it to keep fighting. There was no escape, so wouldn’t it be better to go out on his own terms, before anything truly horrendous could happen to him?

Probably. The real question was: would he have the fortitude to turn down food all the way to a slow and painful death-via-starvation?

He wasn’t sure, and he continued to be resentful of the fact that he even had to make such a choice all the way up until the next day, when the Human walked in with a plate covered in everything he’d eaten yesterday and slid it over to him, simple as anything.

“What?” the Human snapped after a moment of Virgil watching them for any indication of what to do, and he’d hurriedly flickered his heat sensor eyes in hopes of placating any offense. The Human had grumbled indistinctly, but didn’t attempt to remove the plate or even threaten to do so.

The next day was the same. Though the Human continued to try and interrogate and occasionally intimidate him, the food and drink was provided without stipulation or hesitation. It was… strange.

Virgil refused to read into it. Perhaps Humans just had meals so frequently that skipping a single day would be as barbaric as weeks of starvation for Chelcerae. Maybe once the Human had enough of his noncompliance, they were going to feast on his flesh and didn’t want a stringy meal. It was impossible to know.

The generous feeding schedule was nothing, though, compared to some of the other questionable tendencies the Human had.

They traversed the grounds in and around the barn with little wariness, apparently quite confident in their ability to defend themself on the Deathworld they’d grown up on. They brushed insects and plant matter alike off their person with little care for poisons or bites.

Their body language seemed to consist of every threat display in the wayfarer guidebook, and worse, only a quarter of these threat displays seemed intentional. Virgil was constantly tense, attempting to figure out which were intended to cow him, and how to keep his own body language from worsening the damage. Any signal of terrified compliance, even the obvious tremor of his auxiliary limbs, only seemed to prompt wariness and confusion from the Human.

They’d found his helmet and immediately put it on, which had made his fuzz prickle with hope for a moment, before remembering that the reserve battery of the headset was well and truly dead. No emergency translators for the Human, and no upturns in luck for Virgil.

Maybe it was better. Even if the Human could talk to him, he would seem just as guilty for their brother’s disappearance in their eyes. It wasn’t even an accusation he could reasonably defend against; if things had gone differently, if he’d made smarter choices, maybe he could have gotten the captured Human free.

Janus would have managed it. He’d always been a quicker mind than Virgil.

It’d been three days since the Human had found him, and Virgil had barely managed to parse a handful of imperatives and nouns from someone who was basically just yelling the same things at him over and over.

“You can’t ---- the ---- ---------, you ----- --------! I ---- what I ---- and --- ----- to it!” the Human yelled, essentially proving his point. Virgil resisted the urge to let his chin drop down to his collar in exhausted resignation.

It was difficult to focus past the old pains from the fight with Leond, and the new pains from being strapped upright for days on end. Even if he could bring himself to pay closer attention, it wouldn’t make it easier to parse words he had no context for. Lator technology worked best when both parties were exchanging words, or at the very least, when there was more than one native speaker prattling on at you!

The Human inhaled to continue and then froze, prompting Virgil to slink his shoulders up slightly, something that had worked to show his non-aggression once or twice before. The Human wasn’t focused on him, though, whirling around to face the barn doors with their body rigid.

Because he’d never been good at uncertainty, Virgil flicked his heat-sensor eyes open just as another Human-sized mass reached the doors, moving in a predator’s stalk.

Well, he thought as the door creaked open, I’m screwed.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #alien au #humans are space orcs #ts virgil #ts roman #ycgb #you cant go back #my writing #writing #space au #sorry for the late posting my nap ran long #food tw

280 notes · View notes

aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Affection II

Characters: Childe, Ganyu, Kaeya, gn!reader

Word Count: 5,577

Warnings: None

Premise: Sometime we know something is impossible from the start. But still we walk towards it, even if we know it will hurt us. It’s only flirting, only a smile or a hug or some food. Even if nothing comes of it, there is nothing to regret. Even if it hurts.

In which the reader gives affection, expecting nothing in return.

Author’s Note: Evidently I’ve really missed writing these properly. I had such a great time writing, and I hope you guys enjoy these just as much as I did.

Also I’ve decided the version on Ao3 will now always be without bullet points, so if you prefer that format the link will be in the reblog.

Childe

You’d been floored by Childe pretty much since the day you two had met.

What had turned into the two of you meeting had started out a most unfavorable encounter. You’d gone to Lingju Pass, trying to survey some of the carvings of the old structure, and attempting to see the sort of methods used to construct such vast rocky complexes at the time. Unfortunately this goal had quickly turned into a goal of “don’t get caught”, as you’d found the Pass crawling with Fatui members. Though you weren’t nearly helpless, you’d also not come prepared for battle; and had spent most of the “fight” dodging around various blows while trying not to drop the expensive equipment that you’d borrowed from other Guild members.

Just as you’d come to the conclusion that the options were either drop everything and run or get thoroughly injured by a bunch of arrogant Snezhnayan soldiers there was a change in the air. The Fatui soldiers’ expression turned from one of glee to one of confusion, and then one of panic, as one by one a streak of blue began to throw them this way and that. As you regained focus of the terrain your realized that it wasn’t a streak at all but a person, a person who was wildly adept at sword play. Eventually the number of unconscious people had risen to five, and there was no one left but him and you.

“Need any help?”

The words might’ve been kind, had it not been for the smirk on the man’s face. Though you felt that the right answers would’ve probably been to scowl, you found you couldn’t, too wrapped up in the memory of this mysterious person darting this way and that, handling his water-made daggers with the grace of a ballet dancer.

“I’m Childe.” These words finally brought you back to the present.

“You’re a member of the Fatui.”

“I am.”

“Then why did you knock those guys out just now?”

“Boredom.”

You stared at Childe incredulously. Of course you’d heard his name, the man who, it was whispered, almost pulled Liyue into the sea. You’d formed a sort of mental picture of him completely divorced from the redhead now standing in front of you, bouncing slightly on his feet as he smiled cockily. He looked more like a rogue adventurer than one of the heads of a crime syndicate. Maybe that was why you found yourself infatuated, rather than afraid.

This infatuation only grew, fed by the encounters that you had with Childe. It seemed now you couldn’t avoid him, not that you wanted to. What had begun as a chance encounter multiplied into two, into four; soon enough you two had struck up a sort of friendship, one that baffled everyone else around you.

Of course you hadn’t lost all your sense, knowing quite well that the puppy love you were feeling could never be anything more. The way Childe talked about his work, about his duty to the Tsaritsa, made it very clear that he wouldn’t let a partner in his life or in his loyalties. And even if he changed his mind, why would he choose you? You were an adventurer sure, but you hadn’t even been able to properly defend yourself the first time the two of you met, and your oversight of that would’ve surely turned Childe away. Besides, Childe could probably make a partner out of anyone he wanted, if they were foolish enough. Why should that person be you?

Perhaps it was that knowledge that allowed you to be so free in your affection, spurred on by Childe’s own open nature. Hand holding, hugging, leaning one’s head on the other’s shoulder, it was the language of friendship that you two had adopted, and something that you greatly appreciated. There was something nice about a friendship in which one could be so open about caring about someone, without expecting things to go farther. Because you didn’t, you really didn’t. And though that might’ve been a bit painful, it was a small price to pay for Childe’s company.

“I’m going off to Mondstadt for a bit.”

“What?”

You drew away from Childe a bit to look into his face. The two of you were walking along the path towards Yaoguang Shoal, as Childe had taken a particular liking to the Starconches that lined its shores. Now he smiled awkwardly, squeezing your hand and shrugging his shoulders.

“I know, I know. There’s apparently this branch of the Fatui holed up there right now, and I’ve been asked to consult about something, though archons know what it is.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I’m not sure, I think about two weeks? I’m not sure what exactly is going on, but the troops really must be in disarray if they need me skulking around for the next two weeks.” He let out a awkward laugh.

“I’ll miss you.” You replied, bumping your head into his shoulder and frowning. “It’s very boring without you.”

“I’m sure you’ll be perfectly capable without me.” Childe smiled, one eyebrow raised slightly. “After all, what would you do if I left someday, permanently. You’d have to find a way without me.”

“Let’s not talk about that.” You replied hurriedly, switching the conversation towards something more pleasant. Unfortunately however the words had already been said, and the damage had already been done.

It had been two weeks since Childe had left for Mondstadt, and though normally you might’ve been waiting at the city gates for his return, you found yourself on the familiar road towards Lingju. Childe’s words had been ringing in your ears for the past two weeks, and you’d found the more time passed the more you kept thinking about them.

What would you do if I left someday, permanently. Is that what Childe truly wanted? To leave? The idea made your stomach hurt, as you began once more to run all your interactions through your head, as if trying to find a flaw in the strips of memory you had of Childe. Was that what Childe truly wanted, or was it simply that he was sick of you? When he’d said “you’d have to find a way without me” did that mean he wanted to find a way without you? Perhaps you’d been too forward, too demanding. Perhaps he’d managed to realize your feelings and felt repelled by them. Had it been too much, meeting him almost everyday for some periods of time, eating lunch together and sometimes dinner. What about that time you’d invited him over to your house to play a game? Had that been too much?

You sighed, dragging yourself over the final ridge. Sitting down to take a rest you closed you eyes. You hated that your mind wandered this way, that no matter what you couldn’t help but ask yourself again and again, what had you done. What would Childe think about this sad person laying on the ground, the sad part was you couldn’t answer that question.

The sound of footsteps brought you back to the present, and you let out a suppressed groan at the figures in your line of sight.

“Don’t you guys ever get posted anywhere else?” You rolled your eyes, reaching behind your back to summon your polearm.

“You’re trespassing.” The voice that came out of the Electro Vanguard was so deep and distorted as to be hilarious.

“Lastly I checked you were neither a citizen of Liyue, nor Rex Lapis, so if anyone’s “trespassing” on public territory it’s you.” You sighed. “Oh well. Unfortunately you caught me on a day where I’m somewhat prepared.” With that you lunged towards the Hydro Legionnaire and the fight began.

Fighting when one is already frustrated is both a blessing and a curse. The fight itself was almost invigorating, the first Fatui hit the ground and with it you felt part of your worries fade away, if only for the small window of time which this fight offered. Was this why Childe fought so much? The though crossed your mind as you whirled behind the Pyro Bracer and pressed as much Electro as you dared into the back of his head, tripping him with the staff of your polearm on his way down.

Soon enough there was only you and the Electro Vanguard left. Unfortunately you were beginning to feel the other side affect of anger, that being misfocus. Being more versed in using your polearm as a sort of lightning rod your found the Vanguard much harder to deal with, more than once barely diving out of the way of the hammer he was swinging around, surprisingly light on his feet considering what the weight must be. Your anger was quickly draining, turning into something more akin to panic, and as you found yourself stumbling more and more you realized that today was really, really not your day.

The Vanguard was becoming aware of how fast you were tiring, a gravelly sort of laugh emerging from behind his mask. As you found your with you back to the slope you wondered if it was just worth it to make an escape. The Fatui swung his hammer once more, barreling towards you. Having nothing left to do you put your polearm out in front of you, hoping that your arms were strong enough not to recoil against the inevitable blow. Closing your eyes you thought of nothing, drowning in a sea of panic. If there was any coherent part of your brain it wished that you weren’t here, that you just stayed home, or swallowed you pride and gone to the gate. But it was too late now, and you were about to get hit.

However the blow never landed, instead a loud sound pierced the air. Whipping your arms open you saw the Electro Vanguard stumble, his hammer having been dropped on the ground. He was grasping towards his ankle, in which was stuck an arrow, glowing a faint aquamarine. Swearing the Fatui member glanced around, before stumbling away, dragging his weapon and his left leg behind him like dead weight.

“Some things never change, huh?”

“Childe!” You whirled towards your once again savior, face burning from embarrassment. “I took out the rest of them this time.”

“I can see that,” said Childe, surveying the area, a telltale smirk on his face, “very impressive. Although, if I may suggest, next time try to take out the Electro Vanguard first, especially since you don’t wield a weapon made for pure damage.”

“Is this turning into a teaching moment?”

“Absolutely not.” Childe laughed.

You found the sound catching, and soon a smile spread across your face as you let your polearm disappear once more. You ran up to Childe, and were about to throw you arms around his neck in a characteristic hug, when the thoughts of before came ramming back into your brain. Taking a step back you planted your arms firmly in front of you, hoping that maybe Childe hadn’t noticed what you’d been about to do.

However Childe approached you instead.

“You weren’t at the gate today.” He said coyly, lips drifting somewhere between a smirk and a frown.

“I’m sorry.” You lowered your head. “I just thought, well maybe that would be better. Since you said you might be leaving permanently and all, and since you were right when you said I’d have to figure things out without you, I don’t know, I thought maybe it’d be for the best.”

Looking up the expression on Childe’s face could only be described as one of complete disbelief. For a moment he stayed frozen in place.

“What in Teyvat do you mean I’m leaving permanently?”

“You said that! Remember… when we were going to pick sea shells you said that you were leaving.” You stepped back, cheeks flushed. “Or maybe you were just sort of sick of me or something.”

“Why would you ever think that?” Childe walked up to you, enveloping one of the hands at your side in his own and bringing it up towards him.

“I… I don’t know,” you replied, feeling very confused and very foolish, “I thought maybe that I was being too affectionate, or too clingy. I mean I know you don’t like me or anything like that. And I thought maybe that I was crossing the boundaries of our friendship.”

“I don’t like you? I’ve liked you since almost the first day we’ve met!”

“Not like that! I mean, like like, you know? As in… well, as in I… I love you.” You let your voice peter out.

“I love you too!” Childe let out. Shaking his head he smiled widely. “That’s what I’m trying to say. I’ve liked you since almost the first time we’ve met. I wasn’t trying to shoo you away.”

“What?” Your brain was short circuiting. Something had gone terribly wrong. You’d definitely been knocked out at some point, and was now hallucinating. There was no way Childe liked you, loved you. He could love anyone, why would he love you.

Childe stepped closer, moving so that your foreheads were almost pressed together.

“May I?” He whispered, voice almost shy. You nodded, a just as small “yes” escaping your lips before Childe cut off your ability to say anything more. It was a short kiss, sweet and chaste, and yet you felt everything around you suddenly come into sharp, almost lucid clarity. You weren’t dreaming. This was happening. This was Childe and he liked you. Childe like you. He liked you, he really liked you.

“Why?” You let out, when the two of you separated. Thankfully Childe remained close to you, being without his presence now would’ve been quite lonely.

“Why what?”

“Why me? I’m not, I don’t know, I can’t even knock out an Electro Vanguard without help.”

Childe let out a laugh, lovely as music.

“I don’t know,” he replied, eyes sparkling, “because you’re you. And I like you.”

And all of a sudden you found that that was enough.

Ganyu

The days that you accompanied Ganyu on her various errands were the ones in which you were most aware that you were on a level utterly below her.

Of course humans could never really measure up to adepti, after all they made the world and humans simply lived in it. Still in terms of humans, well you weren’t exactly pushing exceptional. If Ganyu represented all that was exceptional about the adepti, well then you represented the average human who didn’t like their job and overall went about their day as unnoticeable as an ant on the road.

Of course Ganyu never acted in a way that would betray the imbalance between the two of you. Indeed Ganyu was nothing if not kind, sweet, and utterly without a semblance of hierarchy. It was one of the things that you adored about her, the straightforward honesty she carried with her, and the way that she appeared not to judge living beings on a scale, even if that was the right of those who were higher and didn’t have to worry about said scale.

“Can you carry this for me?” Ganyu’s voice was soft and somewhat hesitant. You smiled widely, knowing that Ganyu simply had difficulty asking other people for help.

“Of course I can!” Scooping up the package that was stretched out towards you, you saw Ganyu let out a short sigh of relief.

“Thank you.”

“Of course! I’m always happy to help you. Where are we taking this?”

“Over to the funeral parlor. It seems that there are some tiles in here that are being used for a specific ritual. Hu Tao said that the family wanted it, I hope she doesn’t actually mean she pushed them towards it.” Ganyu let out a soft sigh. “She once suggested advertising for cremation. Somehow I feel that won’t exactly be welcomed by the people.”

“No one likes to be reminded of their own mortality. Ah, but Hu Tao is doing her best, and if these tiles end up being insulators, I suppose we can’t do much about it. I’ll make sure not to drop them anyways. Getting on Hu Tao’s bad side feels like asking for a prank.”

“You’re probably right.” Ganyu chuckled.

You blushed slightly, loving the way her laugh sounded, soft and open. You knew Ganyu struggled sometimes; she admitted to you herself that it was very difficult to live an existence defined by liminality. Was she an adeptus? Was she a human? She was neither, and yet both would claim her and call her other. In understanding this Ganyu had retreated into herself. Perhaps that’s why her laugh meant so much.

As you strolled down the docks an angry voice cut through the air.

“Qixing!”

Both of you turning around you saw Bolai, heaving slightly, teetering his way towards you. His face was stormy, and for a moment you wondered if someone had stolen something. His words when he caught up however revealed a very different motivation.

“I demand justice!”

“What for?” Ganyu asked, voice deadly serious once more.

“What for? For what Huixin said in regards to me! For the Liyue Qixing complying with disgusting rumors as to the ways in which I conduct my business and my finances. As to the way that you promised to help me then turned on me!”

“I see…” Ganyu sighed as you wracked your brain, trying to remember what she’d told you about the time that she and the traveler ran around trying to detangle various examples of tax fraud. “Have you considered putting up a formal complaint?” Ganyu meanwhile was still trying to keep professional, something that you admired her for.

“How am I supposed to trust the Qixing after what happened? No! I demand compensation now!”

“Sir, I’m sure you’re quite upset, but there’s no need to act in such a way. If you wish to clear your name, then we can meet in private and review the testimony and documents we received. If not, then I’m afraid there is nothing I can do for you. I’m very sorry.”

Ganyu turned back towards the direction in which you two had been previously walking. Evidently too agitated to think properly Bolai let out a strangled cry.

“We’re not finished yet!” Reaching out, he seemed to be attempting to turn Ganyu around by the shoulder. Having been standing there unthinking you now moved to block the action, knowing that Bolai didn’t really mean anything by it, but not trusting the man who looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. Bolai’s hand instead smacked into the box in your hands, which slipped from your grip and fell to the floor in a great crash.

Time seemed to slow down somewhat after this, as Bolai stepped backwards and Ganyu turned around, face one of evident horror at the scene. You felt your face begin to burn as you looked at the unassuming box, which now looked a little bit the worse for wear.

“What…” Ganyu trailed off. Bolai waved his hands about in a panicked sort of way.

“That wasn’t me! That wasn’t my fault! It was this person they… I don’t know what they were thinking, getting in the way like that. How idiotic! This is nothing but a mess, a disgrace!”

Normally you wouldn’t pay Bolai’s words any mind, but now they seemed to pierce right through, as you realized all the trouble you’d just caused Ganyu. Glancing over towards her you found you could neither look her in the eyes nor stay where you were.

“I-I’m sorry!” You stammered. Moving to pick up the box you found your hand hesitating. Fearing that you’d just make things worse you pulled yourself and dashed in the opposite direction, speeding up the docks and towards the outskirts of the city.

Normally the view from Mount Tianheng was one that stole your breath away. Today however the mountain seemed completely uninteresting, especially when compared to the thoughts racing in your head.

How had you gotten here, how had you messed up so much? Ganyu didn’t need your posturing, your attempt to help. She was an adeptus for Morax’s sake! And who were you? Someone who couldn’t even carry a box from Point A to Point B. And now you’d just caused more trouble for Ganyu, when she already had so much to do.

“I’m such a failure.” You groaned into your palms.

“You aren’t!” You lifted your head at the soft exclamation, already knowing who the voice belonged to. Ganyu sidled up to the ledge of the mountain silently, fidgeting with her hands. “May I sit next to you?”

“Of course.” You replied, grateful that Ganyu was even talking to you. Smiling softly the Qixing Emissary let out a soft sigh.

“I love the view of the city from here.” She spoke softly, eyes on the horizon.

“I do too.”

“There’s something so lovely about watching everyone go about their day, isn’t there? To see the people work in harmony to bring prosperity and peace to the city of Liyue. To see how everyone continues on the legacy of Rex Lapis.”

“That’s a lot to see.” You joked, still feeling a little uncomfortable, as if Ganyu might in a minute get up and leave.

“But can’t you see it?” Ganyu’s voice was earnest and her eyes shined. “It’s wonderful how people do it, how they continue to make this city thrive, to keep the contracts of Morax alive and within living memory.”

“Perhaps it’s just harder for humans to judge it themselves?”

“Perhaps.” Ganyu’s expression shifted into something, almost shy, not quite melancholic. “Just like how you’re finding it difficult to forgive yourself.”

“I’m so sorry Ganyu. I don’t know what I was thinking! I just… I just, wasn’t thinking.”

“You were trying to be kind.” Ganyu replied, something almost akin to blush coating her cheeks. “And I have to thank you for that.”

“But I just caused more trouble…”

“You were trying to be kind,” Ganyu repeated, “like I said, you’re finding it difficult to forgive yourself. But you have to. You didn’t truly do anything that needs forgiveness.”

“But I was doing it for completely selfish reasons!” You blurted out, embarrassment and doubt turning into the words you never wanted to utter. “It’s because I like you, and not just because I was trying to be nice. But because, because maybe I wanted to do something for you, and then maybe I’d be good enough maybe.” Realizing how odd that just sounded you turned your head away. For a moment your words hung in the air, and the longer the silence continued the longer you thought about how utterly selfish you were.

“Thank you.” There was a smile in Ganyu’s voice, and as you turned your head once more you could see it plastered across her face.

“For what?”

“For telling me you like me.”

“But… but isn’t it just burdening you? After all I’m not good enough for you.”

“You are!” Ganyu’s voice was firm. “You’re absolutely good enough for me. And what you did, you call it selfishness, but I don’t understand that. Being kind to people you like isn’t selfish, even if you like them. Because this time you were genuinely helping me. Besides, if that’s selfish then I’ve also been terribly selfish.”

“How?”

“By asking you to accompany me everywhere. Because maybe, maybe I like you too.”

For a moment you wondered if you hadn’t accidentally slipped off the cliff, so weightless did you feel. A bit lightheaded you leaned forward.

“Really?”

“Yes.” Ganyu smiled nervously. Reaching out she took your hand in hers.

The two of you watched the sun set over the city of contracts mostly in silence. Every once in a while there would be a spurt of conversation, but mostly there was nothing but the sounds of the birds and the cicadas, and the pounding of two hearts, hearts both a bit ragged from the events of the day.

For what a day it had been. And how wonderfully it had ended.

Kaeya

If you could use anything as justification for your crush on Kaeya, he did flirt with you. Unfortunately he also flirted with everyone else in Mondstadt.

“How’s my favorite knight of Favonius?” Kaeya’s cocky voice was clear as a bell, and for a moment your heart flipped as the handsome knight came into view, smile as lovely as it had been the day before.

“Blessed by the presence of our beloved cavalry captain.” You replied in a singsong voice.

The first time Kaeya had used that line on you it felt like your soul had left your body and your heart had run a marathon. Unfortunately you’d heard him use practically the same line on Rosaria the next day, his favorite mysterious nun, robbing you of your fantasy in which Kaeya had any interest for you.

Your banter however was not without genuine feeling. You were utterly infatuated with Kaeya, having fallen for the handsome knight about two weeks into your own training. Originally having been an adventurer you’d joined the knights relatively recently after a series of Abyss attacks on the City of Freedom. As such Kaeya had by then already occupied an exalted position among the ranks, and the hours of being trained, teased, and flirted at by the mysterious cavalry captain had been enough to throw you head over heels.

Not that you’d ever expect things to develop more than they already had. Having a crush on the flirtiest man in Mondstadt did mean that you were praised every once in a while, but it also meant that the praise meant little more than empty words, and that there was always someone else who had heard them. Not that you begrudged those people, not knowing them or not caring. It was Kaeya’s right to be as he was, flirty and irreverent; and you’d never ask him to change that part of himself, or any other.

To do so would be to change the person you’d grown to love.

You trotted up the steps of the Favonius headquarters, opening the door with a slight “oof” before stepping into the cool building. Today was going to be a quiet sort of day for the knights, and you’d been assigned to pick up a few books from Jean’s office to be recorded by Lisa before being sent off to the Church. Going to open the door you paused at the voices inside.

“– saying it’s nothing.”

“And I’m saying that it’s becoming a distraction. I don’t want to control your actions Kaeya, but this pining has been slowing down your work, and we need you as one of our most crucial members to be on top of things.”

“I’m not pining.”

“What do you mean you aren’t pining,” Jean let out a snort, “as if it’s not obvious to everyone around you. Look, I’m not saying you have to break things off –”

“Good, because they haven’t even begun.”

“Then maybe that’s part of your problem. Maybe if you told them you liked them then you’d be able to get back on track.”

“I’m doing my best.”

“You aren’t doing anything. And that’s the problem.”

You didn’t hear the rest of the conversation, having made your way over to the library as to make sure that you were get caught, and to cool your head in regards to what you’d just heard.

So Kaeya liked someone. You shouldn’t’ve really been surprised. Kaeya was a wonderful person; intelligent, good with a weapon, polite, handsome. What person wouldn’t fall in love with him? And when everyone’s in love with you, well, it was unsurprising that eventually Kaeya would find someone who he loved back just as much. Then, why did it hurt?

You fought the urge to wrack your brain for the people Kaeya spoke most about, finding the act beneath you. Still, your mind wandered. Perhaps it was Rosaria after all, or maybe it was only because you remembered her. Perhaps it was the sword smith who came twice monthly to check up on the weaponry. Or perhaps it was the tailor, who could sew anything with the utmost care. Or perhaps it was a musician, or an archivist, or another knight. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Your head swam and you found your eyes stinging. Now wasn’t the time to cry, not when you needed to honor your appointment with Jean, not when you were somewhere where any one of your colleagues might discover you. Not where Kaeya might walk in any minute and realize what you’d done. This thought finally brought you out of the spiral of your mind. Making sure that any tears that might’ve escaped were wiped away you took a deep breath, steadying yourself before you walked out of the library and into Jean’s office.

Evidently you must’ve looked much worse than you thought, for Jean took one look at you and ordered you home, grumbling about how much trouble there had been recently. You thanked her half-heartedly before making your way out of the Headquarters, heart heavy as lead. At least work would’ve been a welcome distraction.

Arriving home you saw what Jean meant. Though you weren’t particularly teary, your face had taken on an ashen pallor that made it look like you’d either just gotten a shock, fainted, or had suddenly contracted consumption. Letting out a sigh you collapsed on the couch of your apartment. You knew you should probably do something, should eat or work on some extra work or something. But right now you didn’t want to do any of that. You just wanted to forget.

The knock that sounded at your door was extremely unwelcome, and you bit back bitter words as you made your way over to the door. Any protest however was silenced at the sight of Kaeya, hair slightly tussled, expression opaque, on your doorstep.

“Kaeya.” You meant to sound more peppy, but the action felt too tiring. “What’re you doing here?”

“Making sure that you’re alright. Jean told me that you looked unwell, and we can’t have our best knight getting sick, now can we?”

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

You went to turn around, when Kaeya reached over and place his hand on your forehead. Freezing you let out a sound somewhere between a strangled cry and a shriek. Kaeya didn’t react to this however, or the red quickly spreading across the bridge of your nose. Instead he let out a sigh, before smiling, something which also caused your heart to seize up.

“Not running a fever. I’m glad. Do you know what’s wrong by any chance?”

“Yes. No! I mean, I think, I, I just need rest.”

“You can tell me if something’s wrong. I might not be able to help, but I can try. Consider it the duty of the Cavalry Captain. Have to keep up appearances, even among the ranks.”

“Really Kaeya, I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” Kaeya’s eye seemed to pierce through your soul. “You seem… upset, exhausted. Please, let me help.”

“I can’t…” Your voice cracked and you turned your head away, mortified by your inability to control yourself.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Kaeya’s voice was filled with sudden worry. “Is someone doing something to you?”

“No! No one is. I just can’t because, because it’d be selfish.”

“What do you mean?” Kaeya’s tone had become utterly perplexed, and for a moment you felt the crazy urge to laugh. As if it wasn’t painfully obvious why you couldn’t. This was so tiring. You were so tired.

“Because it’s not fair of me to take away your happiness just because of my own feelings.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I heard you talking to Jean,” you explain, face burning, “she said that you liked someone. Or maybe you did, I don’t remember. Anyways you like someone and it’s not fair of that to hurt me, I have no right to your feelings. But, but it hurts, it really, really hurts.”

The silence when you finished was miserable. You weren’t even looking up at Kaeya, not wanting to see the destruction of a friendship you valued so much.

“Have you considered that the person I’m so infatuated with might be you?”

When you looked up you caught a wave of emotions, similar in strength to the ones currently going through you, plastered over Kaeya’s face. Happiness, sadness, regret, relief; all these things danced in his eyes. In that moment you loved him even more for it, for knowing that he understood, and that he too couldn’t hide the affects of having someone you loved so close and yet so far.

Saying nothing you walked over and slowly stretched your hand out. Kaeya took the hand in his, and you reveled in the small intimacy, in his calloused fingers enveloping yours.

“I’m not good enough.” You pointed out, voice soft.

“You aren’t the one who decides who I love.” Kaeya replied, voice firm. “To me there is no one else worthy in the world. Only you. And I hope that I can be the same for you, that I can be worthy.”

“Yes. Oh yes.”

For Kaeya was more than simply worthy. He was the one you loved the most, as well as the one who’d now made you the happiest person you could ever dream of.

#requested #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #childe #ganyu #kaeya #childe x reader #ganyu x reader #kaeya x reader #scenarios #my writing

269 notes · View notes

afictionalwhore · 3 years

Text

Mr. Tough Guy

A/N: this is for my dear friend @libiraki as a sort of pick-me-up for bad days 💞 it’s my first time actually writing for Dabi and not messing around so I was nervous af writing for the Dabi Queen 🥺

TW: ??? Soft Dabi???

Word count: 2K

•┈┈┈••✦♡✦••┈┈┈••┈┈┈••✦♡✦••┈┈┈•

You rolled on your side to glance at the clock. Glaring electric numbers and letters taunted you back—2:36 A.M. Dabi wasn’t coming home again tonight. You knew you couldn’t get mad at him; it was Shigaraki always sending him out on ridiculous missions. But you were much too afraid of voicing your complaints to the temperamental man-child, so you contended yourself with being mildly annoyed at your pyro boyfriend. You sighed before pulling his pillow across the bed and over you, spooning it and breathing in the lingering scent.

You were almost asleep, when you felt the mattress dip beside you. Warm, rough arms wrapped around your small frame, pulling you into a lean chest. You felt the gentle tug of staples on the thin shirt you were wearing, shaking you awake just enough to be coherent.

"So you finally decided to come home?" you sleepily grumble, refusing to turn over to look at him.

A husky, smoke-heavy voice hummed from behind you before you felt Dabi nuzzle his face gently against your back, careful not to hook any more of his staples in your clothes. You were annoyed enough at him coming home so late without him accidentally ripping your shirt or staining it with blood from his charred skin. Dabi breathed you in.

"You're wearing my shirt, doll," he said, grateful that you were turned away so you wouldn't witness the blush dusting his unscarred cheeks. "You must have really missed me."

"Don't flatter yourself," you replied. Knowing how much he loved seeing you in his clothes but being unsure of when exactly Dabi would home, you had been going to sleep in his loose shirts. The large scoop neck did next to nothing to hold in your boobs, and the hem typically reached your midthigh standing, rolling up to barely come over your ass in your curled position, a fact that did not go unnoticed by the man himself.

“No, Dabi,” you huffed as he began to slowly grind into your ass. “You stink. How long has it been since you had a bath?”

“How long have I been away again?” You could hear the smile in his voice. Dabi never took a bath without you to help him. Bathing Dabi after a long mission quickly became one of your favorite activities. He knew this and was absolutely using it to get back on your good side, though you didn’t mind the fact at all. His latest excursion was almost two weeks, and you wondered how his league mates could stand him for so long.

“Go warm up some water and get some wash rags.” You told him.

“Yes ma’am!” Dabi pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek before rolling off the bed, the mattress springs giving a low groan with the shifting of his weight.

As you rose from your comfy position, swinging your legs over the side of your bed and planting your feet on the cold floor, you remembered the first time you had given Dabi a bath.

You had, simply put, a rough day at work. You knew that when working retail, most days would be simply not good, but that day really took the cake. Somehow the blame for everything landed on you, despite the problems originating in different departments. Your fuse was blown short when a middle aged woman insisted she knew more than you, screaming that she wanted to speak to your manager and accusing you of "withholding" items from her when you didn’t take her expired coupon for an item that she didn’t have and you didn’t carry. Somehow "ma'am, we don't even have a back to check. I’m sorry," escalated into "you dumb bitch can't get laid and has to take out her pent up frustration on retail workers." Needless to say, your boss did not appreciate the comment, and you were told you had to be "let go", as though he was trying to break up with you gently instead of firing you.

You would much rather go out and get something to eat on days like this. Chicken nuggets, fries, something greasy and comforting. Unfortunately for you, you and Dabi had recently started a budget, after a scare of not making rent due to spending too much on delivery and takeout. With your newfound unemployment, you decided the wisest decision would be to just go home and take out your frustration on some poor helpless rice cakes. Spicy but simple was perfect for the day you were having.

That’s what led to you hunched over the stove, saibashi in hand, viciously stirring the bright red sauce into the cylindrical gooey rice cakes.

“I need your help,” Dabi had said, appearing in the small entryway between the kitchen and your bedroom.

You stopped your stirring. Dabi needing help meant one of two things: he needed to hide a body or he wanted a blow job. After the day you had, you were in no mood to play any of Dabi’s games. You turned fast to face the man, almost giving yourself whiplash and pointing your chopsticks at him as though you would stab him if he didn't choose his next words very carefully. Dabi took a step back and raised his forearms up in surrender.

“What do you want?” you practically growled at the man, shaking your chopsticks and dripping red sauce on the floor below.

“Do you think you could help me take a bath?”

Your eyes went wide with shock before realization of his request set in, and your features immediately softened, the muscles holding you tense relaxing, as Dabi gazed at you with a shy, almost sheepish, expression. You gently set the poor saibashi that were about to snap in your grasp down on the counter beside the stove.

“Okay, baby,” you said, smiling at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling, tears threatening to spill over at his sweet request. “Of course! Why don’t you go get some warm water and a soft rag?”

Since then, Dabi would every so often request help with a bath. It was always something that he had to be the first to mention. This was a side of Dabi you cherished. It was like watching the hummingbirds sip from the nectar feeder outside your window. To ask of it yourself felt almost akin to trapping the bird and keeping it under lock. He would never tell you what it was that made him finally decide to look more after his hygiene. You had the slight feeling that it was his insecurities settling in. Everyone in Dabi's life had abandoned or used him, and you had deduced that he feared you would leave him if he didn’t start to take better care of himself. The scent of light cherry blossoms and sweet peaches radiated from you while he smelled of rotting flesh and old cigarettes.

You made your way to your bathroom, a typical affair for a tiny Tokyo apartment, but it was just enough for you and Dabi. You pushed the sliding glass shower door open and stepped in, knocking over a few almost empty bottles, still clad in just Dabi's white t-shirt.

He sat on a small stool placed in the center of the shower, glancing up at you as you slid the door open. The seat was just a little too small for him, forcing his knees to bend awkwardly up to his chest as he slouched back over. You drank in the sight of him. From the scars that decorated his chin and the top of his chest, forearms, and legs to the gleam of the staples that just barely held him together. You loved everything about him, despite the patchwork of purple scars that littered his body. You had a feeling deep down that despite his rough exterior, Dabi was insecure about his body. When you had met, he smelled of rotting flesh and cigarettes, and while he still retained the smoke smell, you figured that he began to grow self conscious over how you may have perceived him.

You started with his face, dipping the soft rag into the bucket of warm, soapy water Dabi had made before pressing it gently over his closed eyes. You made your way around Dabi's face, lightly patting the warm, damp rag against his skin.

Dabi made a small hum in the back of his throat as you made your way to washing his neck, the same gentle patting motion you had used to wash his face.

"That feels really nice, doll," he sighed.

You moved on to his arms, starting with his right shoulder and gently nudging him to rotate his arm. With as many times as you have done this now, it didn’t take much for Dabi to pick up on your wordless request. You worked your way down his arm and back up, wringing the rag out to run down the drain before dipping it into the clean, mildly soapy water to start washing his left side.

As you repeated your gentle motions on his left arm, you noticed Dabi staring off. He looked deep in thought, enough to worry you as Dabi usually had a sharp tongue during his baths, hoping to stir you up and enjoying watching your face flush with embarrassment at his crude words on what he planned to do to you to repay you.

“You tired?” you asked, a small smile crossing your face.

“Mmmm” Dabi nodded. “Yea, I guess.” You decided not to push it and rang out the rag again so you could move on to his chest.

As you pat the damp rag onto his collarbone, careful not to let the charred skin get any more damp than what was necessary to keep him feeling fresh and clean, you heard Dabi mumbling.

“What was that?” You looked up at him, eyes wide in fear that you had hurt him. Dabi was still staring off to the side.

“I’m sorry,” Dabi murmured, barely audible despite your closeness. “For being away from you for so long.” He still refused to look at you.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Was Dabi really apologizing? And for something that deep down you both knew wasn’t truly his fault. The Dabi you knew would never, even if bathing Dabi did tend to bring out a softer side of him. You were dreaming. You had to be. You had fallen asleep, waiting for Dabi to come home, and ended up dreaming of bathing your lover.

“I mean it,” Dabi whispered, looking down at you with bright blue round eyes more befitting of a small husky puppy than a wanted arsonist. "I'm sorry. You put up with so much from me. You could have left at any time while I was away, but you didn't. You just kept waiting and trusting I'd come back." Dabi took in a deep breath. "I think I love you."

Despite his frightening exterior, Dabi was truly quite soft; he just often had trouble expressing that softness. Bathing Dabi brought out a side of him that only you saw, a sweet, lonely man who so desperately wanted to open up to someone but was afraid of being abandoned or worse, betrayed. This was who Dabi really was underneath his tough guy shield. This was the Dabi that you loved. Something must have happened while he was gone to make him really open up to you like this, but you didn’t want to pry; Dabi would share in his own time. Just hearing those three little words was enough for you.

You tried your best to stifle your tears, ducking your head down and dropping the rag in a pitiful attempt to hide your tears.

“Aw damn,” nothing got past him. “I went and fucked up again didn’t I?”

“No,” you started, sniffling lightly. “No, Dabi. I’m just really happy you’re home. I love you, too.”

“Hurry up, would ya!” Dabi tried to bark, an attempt to gain back his tough guy act. “You've still got my whole bottom half to do, and I’m getting cold over here!”

You couldn't help but giggle at him, pressing a sweet peck to the scarred part of his cheek and fully enjoying the blush that crept up the rest of his face.

#soft dabi #dabi mha #dabi x reader #idk how to write Dabi #mha

403 notes · View notes

comfyswitcherblanketfort · 4 years

Text

Fair

Fair by The Amazing Devil. Okay bear with me here guys. There is absolutely nothing I could add to Joey’s beautiful fucking lyrics so this is my shot in the dark at something worth posting. It got kinda long too so like I hope y’all don't hate it?

Warnings: accidental love confessions, decades of mututal pining condensed into one song, cute ass resolution tho

____________

Geralt jogged across the busy street and ducked into the back entrance to the bar Jaskier was playing at, running significantly later than usual, but at least he’d told Jask he might not make it. It seemed that his friend had drawn quite the crowd, so he took one of the few available seats in a far corner and sat back to watch.

Jaskier ran through his usual set with a couple new ones or crowd pleasing covers, even though he told Geralt he hated them. When he was winding down for the night someone shouted a song Geralt hadn’t heard before and Jaskier hesitated.

“C’mon! It’s so good!”

Jaskier chuckled and scanned the audience, his eyes never landing on Geralt even though he waved, “You know what? Fuck it. Fair it is.”

It seemed like the whole front half of the bar whooped and hollered in delight and it had Geralt on the edge of his seat. He thought he knew all of Jask’s songs.

As he started to pluck the intro, Jaskier settled onto the stool and it seemed the audience settled in with him, listening raptly as he began in the soft voice he used to sing Ciri lullabies with.

It's what my heart just yearns to say

In ways that can't be said

It's what my rotting bones will sing

When the rest of me is dead

It's what's engraved upon my heart

In letters deeply worn

Today, I somehow understand the reason I was born

Geralt was enthralled as soon as he opened his mouth. His attention was often consumed by Jaskier, what with the bubbling feelings he’d been pushing down over the years, but this felt… different. This was vulnerable and delicate in a way that Geralt rarely saw from his friend. He almost felt like he shouldn’t be here. Had Jaskier been searching the crowd for him? Was there a reason he wasn’t familiar with the song?

"It's not fair, it's not fair how much I love you

It's not fair, 'cause you make me laugh

When I'm actually really fucking cross at you for something"

And he'll say

"Oh, how, oh, how unreasonable

How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do

I'll spend my days so close to you

'Cause if I'm standing here, maybe everyone will think I'm alright"

That line nearly stopped Geralt’s heart. “...maybe everyone will think I’m alright.” It echoed in his head as he remembered where he first heard it. He had been eavesdropping on Jaskier and Yen at some barbecue or something. Geralt had a very hazy, possibly not real, memory of kissing Jaskier the night before but said nothing just in case it wasn’t real. Yen asked Jask why he was still there if he was so heartbroken... and Geralt was only putting the pieces together four years later.

And if you asked me to, if you asked me, I would lose it all

Like petals in a storm

'Cause, darling, I was born to press my head

Between your shoulder blades at night when light is fading

When they’d lived together Jaskier would come into Geralt’s room when it was cold and do exactly that; snuggle up close and press his cheek between Geralt’s shoulder blades.

Christ, you'll be the death of me

Geralt’s head was spinning. He said that line to Jaskier practically every day they’d known each other. It was the closest he’d ever made it to ‘I love you’ even platonically. The song was cherry picking all the lovely little moments and jokes of their relationship and weaving them into… into what? A love story?

I'm still here, love, like I've always been before

Fuck, Geralt knew that too. When he left Yen that was the first thing Jaskier said as he held him close and let him cry for hours.

"How unfair, how unfair, " they'll sing

As they dance across the darling rooftop wreck

He'll trip, and she'll pretend not to have seen

Burying her head into his chest

And clinging to the moment, "Where have you been?"

She'll whisper, "I've waited, oh, so long for you to come"

And as the stars above them hum and hear them

He'll turn to her and say, "That's what she said"

That was their senior year of college, drunk as fuck at a frat party.

"Oh, how, oh, how unreasonable

How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do

I'll spend my days so close to you

'Cause if I'm stood here, then I'm stood here

And I'll stand here

I'll stand here with you"

Geralt stood up when Jaskier’s eyes landed on him in the crowd and his voice cracked. The blood seemed to drain from his face, even as the bar clapped and cooed in adoration. Jaskier said a brief thank you, stumbling over his words before racing through the kitchen doors next to the stage. Geralt followed him without a second thought, honestly all coherent thoughts had left his mind.

When he slipped through the double doors, Jaskier was gripping the dish pit for dear life, squeezing his eyes shut like he used to when he woke up from a nightmare.

“Jask are you okay?” Geralt kept his distance even though he wanted nothing more than to gather Jaskier in his arms and never let him go.

The whisper of “no” in response wrapped around Geralt’s heart and nearly squeezed the life out of it.

He inched closer, keeping his voice low and calm, “You were checking I wasn’t there.”

“Did a shit job of that, didn’t I?” Jaskier tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob and he sucked in a breath, holding it in an effort to keep it together.

“Hey,” Geralt laid a hand over Jaskier’s knuckles in an effort to calm him down, “why are you scared?”

Jaskier just shot him a glare.

“I’m not mad,” Geralt insisted, “Just confused.”

“You’re confused?” Jaskier was astonished, the humor of Geralt not getting it when it was so obvious was apparently enough to bring back his words.

“Well I’ve got a couple ideas but I’m not notorious for good ideas.” Geralt offered a half smile as he tilted his head down to try to catch Jaskier’s gaze.

“No,” Jaskier sniffed, wiping his nose with his shirt sleeve, “you’re really not.”

Geralt waited, not entirely patiently but he managed to keep up the façade.

“I ah… I mean it.”

Geralt nodded, “And ‘she’ is…?”

“‘She’ is me… except the frat house one. I think ‘she’ was you? I honestly can't remember.”

Geralt grinned, “‘She’ was you. You laughed so hard you hurled.”

Jaskier shook his head, his lips threatening to smile but holding steady, “It’s all blank.”

Geralt gently gripped his wrist and turned him so they were face to face, “I had no idea… honestly.”

Jaskier scrunched his nose and frowned, “Geralt, please. We can just forget it. I don’t want to lose you and Ciri. I’m fine pretending, I-”

“No chance in Hell.” Geralt interrupted before he could really get on a roll, cupping his cheek with one hand and glancing down at his lips.

Jaskier’s face went slack with realization for a moment before he gripped Geralt’s collar and smashed their lips together. Even though it was far from their first kiss, it was everything a first kiss should be. Sweet and a little frantic, warm and a little messy.

When they parted Jaskier kept his eyes closed, pressing their foreheads together as Geralt hummed in satisfaction, “I am unreasonably in love with you too.”

807 notes · View notes

hercleverboy · 4 years

Text

butterflies

spencer reid x reader

summary ↠ the reader is wrongly accused of murder. spencer doesn’t believe she’s innocent.

category ↠ angst

warnings/includes ↠ wrongful conviction, imprisonment.

word count ↠ 4.3k

“But he, that dares not grasp the thorn, should never crave the rose.” — Anne Brontë

Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?

They say that a tiny butterfly flapping its wings today can result in a devastating hurricane weeks from now. Every decision we make leads us to an array of new paths that we wouldn’t have had we chosen the other option. Every choice we make opens a hundred new doors up for you, but closes a hundred doors behind you.

Y/N liked to think that her meeting Spencer Reid was meant to be.

How else could she explain that her making the last minute decision to stop for coffee on the way to work led to her meeting the most important person in her life? If she’d decided to head straight to work like she was meant to, she may never have met the pretty genius with eyes like honey.

Y/N wasn’t a big believer. Not in miracles, not in a higher power. But she did believe in the universe, that she was meant to meet Spencer and they were meant to be in one another’s lives.

They were the best of friends. Of course, as every love story goes, Y/N always craved more. She wanted to wake up to Spencer on Sunday mornings, she wanted to have cute dinner dates and autumn walks through the park hand in hand. She would stay up late wondering if their relationship would work, with him being gone a lot of the time. While the two had very different jobs, Y/N being the head of a publishing company, she was always understanding of his schedule. In all honesty, her love wasn’t unrequited. Spencer had wanted the same thing, but he too feared rejection from his best friend.

As humans, we tend not to admit our feelings to those we like through fear of rejection. Its pure human instinct, to protect ourselves from harm. For that reason, Y/N never told Spencer how she felt. She figured that it confessing her feelings wasn’t worth the risk of losing him from her life altogether, so she said nothing.

That would prove to be her first mistake.

Loud banging on her front door awoke her from her sleep with a jolt. She squinted her eyes open, letting them adjust to the darkness as she woke. Her ears picked up on the sound of voices coming from behind her front door, the loud calls rattling through her tiny apartment. She strained her ears to hear what they were saying, still half asleep.

“Y/N Y/L/N? This is the FBI, open up.”

At first she thought it was some kind of joke. She knew Spencer worked for the BAU, and figured this was likely some sort of prank. Not that Spencer was ever one for practical jokes, but he always managed to surprise her. She pulled herself up from the bed with a groan, grabbing the cardigan she’d tossed on the floor to cover herself, as she was only in the top and shorts she wore to bed. Just as she had begun to walk towards the front door, in bust down in front of her, a loud yelp leaving her in response. The first two faces she sees she recognises. Derek Morgan and David Rossi, Spencer’s co-workers. She’d met them once or twice before and got along with them all well.

She was about to ask what was going on when she noticed that the two men had guns pointed at her. She locked eyes with Derek, as the fear and realisation that this definitely wasn’t a prank set in. She felt frozen to the spot, her breathing picking up and tears welling in her eyes.

“What- What’s happening?” She mumbled out. She couldn’t comprehend what was happening. The FBI had stormed her apartment, and now they pointing weapons at her - as if she was dangerous.

Derek and Rossi shared a look, before Derek put his gun back in the holster. “Are you going to come willingly? Or do we have to do this the hard way?” He asked, and Y/N noticed how he spoke so calmly. It made her feel sick. Why was he speaking to her like she was an unsub, a criminal, like she would hurt them given the chance.

When Y/N didn’t speak or move, paralysed by confusion and fear, he moved toward her, and she could hear the clinking of metal as he reached for her hands, pinning them behind her back and cuffing her tightly. “Y/N Y/L/N. We’re arresting you under suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything-”

It was as if up until that point things had been moving in slow motion for Y/N, and then all of a sudden everything went back to full speed. She attempted to turn to face Derek as he led her out of the building. She was shaking her head profusely. “I didn’t- I didn’t do anything just please-”. Her thoughts were so jumbled that she struggled to string together a coherent sentence.

Derek didn’t speak, remaining stoic with his expression as they walked through the doors of the apartment building. Outside were numerous police cars, the blue and red lights flashing. The dirty looks that officers were giving her as she was pulled towards the police car made her feel incredibly nauseous. She wanted to scream, to beg and plead.

‘Please! Please, I’m not a criminal- I’m not capable of murder, please. It wasn’t me!’

Everything was happening so quickly.

Derek opened up the car door, pushing her to sit in the seat. she looked at him with pleading eyes as her breathing picked up, panic setting in. “Derek, Derek please. I didn’t do anything. Get Spencer, he’ll- he’ll tell you it wasn’t me.”

Derek looked almost torn as he looked back at the begging girl, who seemed so genuine and kind that he almost couldn’t believe she was guilty. They’d met a few times when Spencer had invited Y/N along to the BAU’s nights out, and he was actually quite fond of her.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. But Reid’s the one who told us to bring you in.” He sighed, before slamming shut the door. The look of defeat on Y/N’s face was heartbreaking. She felt her chest start to restrict as sobs began to rip through her, her whole body shaking as she cried.

She’d been sat in the interrogation room for what felt like hours but she knew in reality it had likely only been a matter of minutes. They’d sent Derek in to interrogate her first, but he hadn’t been able to get much from her. She insisted she was home on the days the murders happened, but had no one that could prove her alibi. She stared dead ahead at the wall before her, her face drained of colour and hands shaking from where they were now cuffed in front of her. She still couldn’t think, couldn’t wrap her brain around everything. She felt so numb, the words Derek had said swimming around in her head like a mantra.

“Reid’s the one who told us to bring you in.”

Her eyes drifted to the two way mirror on the wall, where she knew that the team - Spencer - were watching her.

On the opposite side of the mirror, Derek, JJ and Spencer stood. Spencer was watching her behaviour intently, profiling her.

“Do you think she did it?” JJ asked quietly.

“Well she fits the profile to a T. Reid said she was asking about the investigation, and we profiled that the unsub would try to inject themselves into the investigation. It fits. Not to mention that she doesn’t have a solid alibi for the three nights the murders took place on.”

“Yes but that’s all pretty circumstantial. Its either that hair we found at the scene comes back from the lab as a match or we get a confession out of her.”

Spencer just stared ahead, looking at the woman who sat, looking so small on the uncomfortable metal chair.

He hadn’t wanted to believe it at first.

But Derek was right, Y/N fit the profile perfectly. She didn’t have anyone that could prove that she’d been at home like she claimed she was on the nights of the murders, and she had asked about the investigation, more so than she usually would, more than a friend just asking if he was okay.

He still couldn’t believe it, though. As he watched his best friend he felt a horrible ache move through his chest. Was she really capable of such things? No, she couldn’t be- but the profile wasn’t wrong, and all the evidence they had so far pointed to her.

It made him angry. Was their friendship just a ploy? Did she use him so she could get away with murder?

His thoughts were interrupted by the comforting hand JJ put on his shoulder, “Spence, one of us can do this instead. You don’t have to do this.”

He shook his head. “Yes I do. She trusts me, she’ll co-operate with me. I can get a confession.” He mumbled, shoving JJ’s hand from his shoulder as he opened the door, stepping into the interrogation room.

Y/N’s dull and defeated eyes brightened as Spencer walked in, a small amount of relief filling her.

“Spencer! Oh thank god, please can you get me out of these.” She whimpered, struggling against the restraints that made her wrists ache.

He ignored her request, moving towards the table before her. He slammed the case file down on the table with much more force than necessary, a small yelp leaving her lips. He opened up the case file and Y/N frowned.

“What are you doing?” She whispered as he began to lay out photos before her on the table. She dared to look at the photos before her, a gasp leaving her lips. They were horrific shots of the crime scenes, blood splattered on walls and the bodies of three different men laid in a pool of their blood, numerous stab wounds covering their abdomens. She looked away, not wanting to see the horror anymore.

“What, you don’t want to look at your masterpiece anymore?” Spencer mused, and she met his eyes, her mouth dropping open in shock.

“You don’t- you don’t seriously think I did this?” She whispered, but Spencer’s act didn’t waver. He clenched his jaw- He was angry.

“I know you did. That is why you were so interested in all the details of the case, isn’t it?” His tone was so cold, it broke Y/N’s heart.

“No. I asked you about the case because you’re my best friend, because I care about you. You wanted to get something of your chest so I asked you to confide in me, that was all. You’re wrong.” Y/N’s tone was pleading, and perhaps If Spencer wasn’t so angry he would’ve seen the truth in her words.

“Is that why we became friends in the first place? Was that the plan all along, Y/N? To plant yourself in my life, become one of the only people I cared about, only to use me for my job? So you could kill in cold blood and wouldn’t get caught? What, did you think I’d protect you?” He spat, breaking his earlier promise to Hotch that he would keep a cool head if they let him interrogate her.

“Protect me? Spencer I didn’t do this! Look at me! Please tell me you don’t honestly believe I did this. That I am capable of such horrific things. Please-“ She begged, tears falling from her eyes as her voice cracked with her pleading. She was sure she sounded pathetic, but what was she meant to say? He seemed so sure, so adamant that it was her, what could she possibly say to prove her innocence.

“It all comes down to your father, right? I know how badly he mistreated you growing up. You just wanted to get your revenge, you believe you’re owed justice for what he did to you. But since you couldn’t get to him, you killed substitutes instead. It’s okay, understand.” His voice was still venomous, but he’d over laced the poison in his words with a sickeningly sweet tone, that which he used when he was negotiating unsubs.

That hurt her. She’d confided in Spencer about her awful childhood and how she suffered abuse at the hands of her father before she left home as a teenager. She hadn’t seen him in years, and she didn’t want to. “Why are you bringing up my father? I confided in you about him, you’re the only one who knows about my childhood but that doesn’t mean I did these things. Please.” She whimpered, and her shoulders sagged, crying. Spencer just shook his head.

“Tears won’t get you anywhere.” He scoffed, and Y/N couldn’t believe the ferocity behind his words.

He truly believed she was capable of this?

The door opened before Y/N could respond and JJ came in, leaning down and whispering in Spencer’s ear before leaving again. His gaze turned back to Y/N.

“They found a strand of hair at the crime scene. The ran it through the lab and got a match.”

“Great. Now you know I’m innocent can you let me out of these?” She asked, holding up her cuffed hands to him. When he made no move towards her she frowned.

“Y/N the DNA from the hair strand matches you. That’s enough evidence to charge you with the murders of Charles Woods, Tyler Burner and Adam Wright.”

Y/N felt like the world was collapsing around her. She choked on a sob, her hands trembling. “What? No, Spencer please, please I didn’t- oh my god, I didn’t do this-“ She continued to cry, her head dropping down onto the cold metal table as she sobbed, disbelief filling her. Spencer watched, feeling tears prick his own eyes. In the back of his head the thought came.

If she’d done this, why would she be reacting this way?

He tried not to, but ended up profiling her body language. It wasn’t the actions of someone who’s committed three brutal murders, that was for sure. Another thought came along that diminished the previous one.

She’s manipulative, Spencer. She’s putting on a show.

An officer came into the room, pulling Y/N up roughly from her seat and escorting her out. She didn’t make any attempt to fight back, the defeated feeling filling her as silent tears cascaded down her cheeks. She didn’t sob anymore. She felt so emotionally drained that all she could do was stare blankly ahead as the tears fells.

Spencer didn’t come to her trial. She’d looked for him in the court, hoping that perhaps he’d at least come to support her, to tell her that he was wrong, that he’d fight to get her out of this mess.

But he never showed. As if her heart wasn’t shattered already, in broke even more.

She was given life imprisonment, which was twenty-five years without the possibility of parole. She would spend her life in prison for crimes she didn’t commit.

She was sent to a Woman’s Correctional Facility, and was placed in the Category A section, as she was seen as a ‘high-risk’ inmate. She spent a lot of her days in her cell, only being allowed out for a few hours a day. When she first arrived, it was hell. She was threatened and hurt within the hallowing walls of the prison, and she finally understood even a fragment of what Spencer had gone through when he was convicted for a crime he didn’t commit.

Huh, ironic.

Except Spencer had a team working day and night to prove his innocence.

No one was coming to save Y/N.

She never had any visitors. Her mother was too ashamed that herdaughter was a convicted serial killer to come and visit, she didn’t hear from her father at all, and Spencer was the only real friend she ever had.

After her first month of imprisonment, she’d reached acceptance. Acceptance in the fact that she’d likely never see anything outside the prison courtyard again, that she’d never marry and have children or achieve her dream job. Some days she felt at peace, others she was filled with an unimaginable anger. She was angry at the world. She’d believed in the divine universe, but how was it fair that she wasted away in a cell whilst the real offender got away with it? How was that justice?

She was angry with the world. But she was livid with Spencer.

Her supposed best friend, someone she would’ve died for, the man she loved. He’d left her alone, he’d abandoned her, at a time where she’d never needed him more he turned his head away.

Two months into her sentence, she got her first visitor. She’d been surprised when the guard had come to collect her from her cell, telling her she had someone waiting for her in one of the private rooms, where inmates usually met with their lawyers to discuss appeals etc. The door buzzed as it unlocked, the guard opening up the door in front of her. Much to her surprise, the guard then reached down to uncuff her hands. She was told to wait, and so she took a seat on one of the chairs, her hands tracing the red marks the cuffs had left on her wrists.

The door opened minutes later, and Y/N could hear male voices mumbling to one another before someone entered the room, swiftly closing the door behind them.

Hotch.

He took a seat opposite her, as she stared at him wide-eyed. “Agent Hotchner? What are you- Why are you here?” She asked quietly, her voice croaky and low. She didn’t speak much these days, as she had such little interaction with others that there was no need to.

“Miss Y/L/N-“ He began but Y/N stopped him by speaking.

“Could you call me Y/N? Everyone here calls me by my last name, its kind of dehumanizing. I would like to feel like a human for once, please.”

Hotch gave her a sad look before nodding. “Alright. Y/N. I’m here to apologise on behalf of the Bureau and my team. Two months ago we were assigned the case, to which we came to the conclusion that you were our unsub.” He pulled out a folder from his briefcase, placing it down on the table before her. “We were wrong.”

Y/N stared at the folder before her as Hotch reached out to open it. From it he pulled an evidence bag containing a single piece of paper. He cleared his throat as he slid the bag across the table so she could read the note for herself.

“Two weeks ago we were sent this letter. It came directly to the BAU, addressed to Agent Reid.”

“Agent Reid.

You’ve got the wrong woman.

But how funny it was to watch you turn so easily on the woman you love.

Until next time.”

“Since receiving this letter, the Bureau launched an investigation into where it came from and who sent it. We had to be sure of its authenticity before we made any other moves. Our investigation led us to a woman named Felicity Brooks.” Hotch placed another file before her. It was Felicity Brooks’ file, with information about her life and a picture of her attached.

“I don’t recognise her.” Y/N murmured, and Hotch sighed.

“I didn’t suppose you would. You met her once a few years ago when your publishing company rejected the draft of her book. It sent her into a frenzy of sorts, and this was the only way she could gain retribution.” Hotch explained. “She confessed to all three murders, and admitted to planting the strand of your hair at the crime scene. We’re so incredibly sorry for our part in your conviction. You will receive compensation for the trouble. You’re now a free woman, Y/N.” Hotch gave something that almost resembled a smile, before standing up and grabbing the files, putting them back in his briefcase. “I’ve arranged for a car to take you home, it’ll be waiting outside.” Then he turned swiftly, but she called his name, causing him to stop and turn to face her.

“Thank you.” She whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, with a genuine smile that she hadn’t worn in months. He just nodded at her before leaving. A guard came into the room, whisking Y/N away to begin the process of leaving the hell that she’d called home for two months.

She’d been home for three days.

Turned out that her mother had just cared enough to keep up with Y/N’s rent payments so she’d have somewhere to live when she got out. She’d tried reaching out to her to apologise for not supporting her, once her mother found out she was innocent but Y/N wasn’t interested in her apologies.

She’d used the compensation to replace the door they’d broken down, and she’d heard separately from all of the BAU members, who all apologised profusely for their part in her conviction. All of them apart from Spencer.

She’d thanked the team for apologising, but ultimately had forgiven them. They had every reason to believe it was her. While part of her was still angry, she knew they were just doing their jobs.

After all, it was Spencer who had hurt her, who she needed to believe her. He was her best friend, he shoud’ve known that no matter the evidence, Y/N was not capable of murder. He should’ve seen what was going on, considering the same thing had happened to him not a year earlier.

Three loud knocks sounded through her apartment, and she frowned. She wasn’t expecting company. When she opened the door, the last person she expected to see one the other side was Spencer.

He was looking down at the floor, but when she opened up the door his eyes lifted up meet hers. His eyes seemed to fill with relief that she’d actually answered the door.

“Hi, um, how are you?” He stammered, and Y/N just raised her eyebrows as if to say really?

It was a stupid question. Spencer had been in prison, he knew how horrible it was and he knew what it was like to be wrongfully accused but he’d subjected her to the same and he’d never felt so guilty before in his life.

“I’m fine. Did you need something?” She asked, crossing her arms expectantly.

“Y/N I am so sorry.” He whispered, his lip quivering.

She sighed, shaking her head. “I appreciate you saying that. Are we done?” She moved to shut the door but he stopped it with his foot.

She groaned, pulling back the door again. “Spence-”

“Please just- let me in. We need to talk, please?” His voice was pleading, and Y/N saw the tears pooling in his eyes and relented, stepping away to let him into her apartment.

He thanked her and closed the door behind them, following her into her living room. She sat on the sofa and waited for him to speak as he stood before her, shuffling nervously on his feet.

“You don’t know how guilty I feel about what happened. You know I went to prison, it wasn’t long before we met. And it fucked me up, Y/N. I barely made it out alive. And now I subjected you to the same hell because I trusted a profile with circumstantial evidence more than I trusted you and I am so sorry.” He was on the verge of tears, and Y/N sighed, tears collecting in her own eyes.

“I just needed you to believe me. I was your best friend. I trusted you more than anything else in the world and you- you thought I was capable of murder?” She cried, standing up from the sofa to exaggerate her point.

“I don’t know what I was thinking Y/N please-“ He tried but she cut him off.

“No, Spencer! You meant everything to me, do you understand that? The once time I needed you the most, you turned your back on me!”

“It wasn’t like that-”

“Then what was it like, huh?”

Silence fell on the two. They both stared at one another, hoping the other would say something that could fix everything. That they’d somehow string together a sentence that would make everything okay again. Y/N visibly slumped, her shoulder dropping from the defensive stance as she turned away from him, not able to look at his red teary eyes anymore.

“I loved you, you know.” She sniffed, and it made his breath hitch.

Silence. And then-

“You what?”

“I was in love with you. I had been for months at that point. You broke my heart, Spencer.” She murmured, still turned away from him.

I was in love with you.

Past tense.

“Was?” Spencer whimpered out, and by the defeated tone in his voice Y/N turned around, meeting his eyes again.

“I’m not the same person you knew two months ago, Spencer.” She whispered, and he recognised the fear she held in her eyes. She was afraid of herself, of the person prison had made her. He recognised it as the seem look he’d held in his own eyes for months after he was released.

“That’s okay. I love you, Y/N. I will grow to love the person you are now even more. Just please, forgive me-” He stepped towards her, a reassuring tone in his voice.

Y/N screwed her eyes shut. “It’s going to take time- I can’t just forget what happened I-” Her voice cracked and he nodded.

“I’d wait forever for you.”

She gave a sad smile, and he gave one back.

She wondered if in some alternate universe she’d never met Spencer Reid. She wondered if her life was better there, more fulfilled.

But she liked to think that even in all the infinite universes and alternate realities, she got to live a life with Spencer Reid in every one. That they were just so incredibly meant to be that no amount of different choices could stop them from meeting, from falling in love.

She supposed that made them soulmates, or something of the like.

The thought made her smile.

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #mgg #criminal minds

905 notes · View notes

wave0fg00dvibes · 4 years

Text

Baby - Spencer Reid x Reader

Request: Spencer’s daughter tries to tell him that she’s “not a baby anymore.” He doesn’t take it too well.

A/N: I’M FREAKING BACK, BABY! It has been so long and I’m so very sorry. Here is some tooth-rotting fluff for y’all because I love you. I actually wrote this for the lovely @thekatherinewinchester as a part of @imagining-in-the-margins fic swap, and it was SO fun to write. It also really helped me to have a deadline. I think I’m going to try to do that more often!

Please leave feedback if you have any! Lots and lots and LOTS of love, as always.

Category: FLUFF

Content Warning: None

Word Count: 1.7K

------------------------

The first time our daughter attempted to assert her independence, she had just turned 6 years old.

A morning routine with two young children was often chaotic, to say the least. However, the first day of school was always a special one. For some reason, something about this particular September morning made me extra grateful and reflective, even among the disarray.

1 ½ year old Grayson sat in his highchair, babbling nonstop. Though he had only just started eating his applesauce, it completely covered his face and arms. Before I knew it, he was using his spoon to fling the food onto the floor.

Was that an issue on the top of my priority list right now? Nope.

Ava sat at the kitchen table, swinging her legs and eating her cereal with the enthusiasm of an excited 1st grader. Her polka dot dress and matching headband were neatly and meticulously adjusted, revealing the hidden nerves within her initial excitement.

The small TV on the counter was tuned into the local news, though no one ever really listened. Even if anyone wanted to pay attention, Grayson’s babbling would probably drown it out anyway. It was mostly just background noise. But, selfishly, I liked to know the state the world was in before my husband left our home each morning to go make it better, safer. I liked to at least have some idea of what he was going to encounter, even if it meant certain days were filled with anxiety and worry.

Dealing with the unease and stress was a small price to pay for the unceasing love and immeasurable happiness.

To be honest, I never imagined a world where I’d be simultaneously getting our children ready for the day and scrambling eggs for Spencer as he slept in after a long night of work. I never imagined his severe, draining job would let us have even a sliver of happy domesticity. But, as I scraped the last of the eggs onto his now-full plate, I reflected on how lucky the universe had deemed us. This shouldn’t be a reality, and yet, I couldn't imagine our life together any differently.

“Mama?” The voice of my sweet girl snapped me out of my reflective moment.

“What is it, Ava?” I asked, momentarily pausing my motions. She turned around in her chair to face me, eagerness lighting up her small face.

“I’m really excited to go back to school.”

I couldn’t help but smile. She truly was her father’s daughter in every capacity.

“I’m so glad! You’re going to have an amazing day!”

Her bright, golden eyes sparkled, and she turned back to finish her cereal.

Spencer would definitely be up soon. There was no way he was going to miss the sendoff of his favorite girl on her first day of 1st grade.

There wasn’t a single doubt in my mind that Ava was going to blow all of her teachers away. I insisted on keeping her in kindergarten for her first year of school so she could make friends and get used to that type of social environment, but now that she was starting more difficult content, I knew all bets were off. She was absolutely going to skip grades, make breakthroughs, and undoubtedly change the world.

But, thankfully, that was a conversation for another day, and one Spencer was undoubtedly going to have to help me through.

At that very moment, my sweet husband rushed into the kitchen, fastening his tie as he jogged. Even in his disheveled haste, the elation in his face and pep in his clumsy steps revealed that he was just as excited about this day as Ava, if not more.

Grayson babbled in the happiest tone he could muster at the sight of his daddy, and I couldn’t help but smile right along with him.

“Good morning, buddy!” Spencer smiled, crouching to meet Grayson’s eye level and pinch his chubby, applesauce covered cheek.

The tiny gesture took me back to a time when Spencer’s cares and worries were much different. Back then, he would never have thought to voluntarily reach for the grubby face of an infant, no matter how cute. But, six years and two kids later, this was a beautiful reminder of how much we had both changed, and how lucky we were to grow together and not apart.

However, in true Spencer Reid fashion, as soon as he was done making silly faces at our son, he padded over the sink to rid his hands of the sticky, grimy applesauce.

Everything may be different now, but some things never change.

As I packed Ava’s lunch, I felt his eyes on me from behind. Before I knew it, he lightly turned me away from my task and wrapped his arms completely around me, leaning down to rest his head on my shoulder.

“Thank you.” He softly whispered.

Forgetting the rush of the morning for a moment, I let myself sink into the embrace. For though our lives plowed forward at seemingly a million miles an hour, moments like these kept me grounded, sane.

“For what?” I asked.

“The extra sleep. The food. The babies. Everything.”

The case they returned from last night must have been a nasty one. Spencer was a very affectionate person, but something about this profession felt heavier.

Nevertheless, even after so many years, he still had the ability to make my heart skip a beat.

I pulled back from the hug to smile up at him, running my hands up his arms to get lost in his hair. His eyes reflected utter joy and gratitude, despite the fact that he had undoubtedly seen some horrifying things for the past few days.

“I love you so much.” The words flew out before I could stop them. Of course, I meant them with my whole heart, the phrase just seemed so mundane compared to my ever-growing, aching love for him.

The love in his eyes and sparkle in his smile told me he knew. He always knew.

He pressed a slow, firm kiss to my lips, hands coming to rest gently on my hips as we slowly swayed together.

“I love you too.” He whispered, and before I could fully savor it, the restless world started turning again.

Stealing moments with him would forever make my heart sing, but today needed to be about our sweet girl and nothing else. After all, according to her the first day of 1st grade marks the “beginning of the true educational journey.” Lord knows we couldn’t miss a second of that.

Spencer quickly walked over to the plate I had ready for him, setting it across from Ava at the table and kissing her head as he passed.

“Good morning, baby! Are you excited for your first day?”

Ava was silent. I felt the air in the room change as she put down her spoon and looked up at him, features completely serious. Somehow, I knew what was coming before she even opened her mouth, and Spencer was not going to like it.

“Daddy. I am not a baby.”

As expected, Spencer choked on the small piece of egg he had just attempted to swallow. In spite of the sad punch of the reality that my sweet girl was growing up, I nearly snorted, covering my mouth with my hand so as to not offend her.

Spencer looked absolutely dumbfounded.

“But, you are technically my baby-” He attempted to explain.

Ava was not having it. She took a deep breath, pushing her bowl of lucky charms aside so she could fold her hands in front of herself on the table.

“The term ‘baby’ is applied to infants from birth to the age of 1, and then sometimes to toddlers from ages 1 to 4. I am 6 now, daddy, so technically I have already let you get away with it for an extra year.”

Oh, my girl. What a little firecracker she was. No one in the entire world besides her could silence Dr. Spencer Reid with one sentence.

Spencer sat there at a loss for words, fork still in hand, clearly trying to formulate a coherent sentence.

“But…”

The school bus pulled up in front of our house with impeccable timing.

“Ava honey, the bus is here!” I gladly interrupted, shoving the lunchbox into her backpack and zipping it up.

Her poor father. I had never seen his jaw drop for so long before.

But, as always, there was no time to unpack in the current moment. That would have to be a later conversation.

Ava excitedly got down from the table, running to put her dishes in the sink before grabbing her backpack and putting it on with complete elation. I lifted Grayson from the highchair, quickly wiping off his applesauce-covered face with the ratty old t-shirt of Spencer’s I was wearing. By that time, Spencer had slightly snapped out of his trance in order to help Ava put on her sparkly converse shoes and matching coat.

The four of us were greeted by the autumn breeze as we stepped out onto the front porch. Spencer and I instinctively bent down to simultaneously kiss her cheeks, and she hugged our necks with the fervor of all the love in the world. She gave Grayson a small cheek kiss as well before turning away to start her new educational adventure.

“Have the best day, sweet girl!” I yelled after her as she sprinted down the driveway to the bus. She waved in reply. Though I couldn't have been prouder of her, I couldn’t help but notice the new missing piece of my heart that seemingly got on the school bus with her.

It was at that moment that I realized Spencer hadn’t said a single word since his baby proclaimed otherwise. He still looked like he had seen a ghost.

“You alright there, old man?” I playfully nudged him with my shoulder, bouncing Grayson on my hip.

“But she… she is my baby…”

I smiled, knowingly, trying to hide the small pain that struck my heart at the thought of Ava growing up. There were no words I could say that would calm his racing heart in the moment. So, I held our smallest baby a little bit tighter and leaned up to lightly brush my lips against Spencer’s.

“I know. Me too.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid request #spencer reid x y/n

767 notes · View notes

obeyme-kaidii-writes · 3 years

Text

Panties

Mammon x gn!MC

Words - 1963

Content Warnings - lots of fluff, just a brief smidge of angst, my attempt at humor, relationships with the boys are open to interpretation

Prompt/Inspiration - none

Summary - You return home to the House of Lamentation one day to find an absolute shit show waiting for you.

AO3

As soon as you opened the door to the House of Lamentation, you could tell something wasn’t quite right. Raised voices could be heard filling the halls, but you were unable to quite make out what they were saying.

You followed the sound of the commotion to its source and were soon standing in the doorway to the library. All the brothers had gathered there and were too busy arguing to notice you.

There didn’t seem to be any sort of emergency. No one was bleeding at least.

But as your eyes scanned the room, they finally landed on a brightly colored bunch of fabric in Asmo’s hand that he was holding up for all to see.

You recognized it immediately.

It was your underwear.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. You were mortified. What the hell could they possibly be discussing that involves your underwear in the middle of the afternoon?! Just as you were about to start tearing into them, you managed to catch some snippets of the conversation.

“OMG Mammon! You’re a panty snatcher! This is like a scene from an anime. I can’t believe this happens IRL.”

“I knew you were a pervert, but this is just depraved. Even for you.”

“Such a scumbag. Isn’t it enough to try and steal their things? Do you have to take their underwear too? Really?”

You shifted your attention to Mammon, who was standing at the front of the group, desperately trying to defend himself. His face was flushed, all the way down his neck. So intense was his blush, that even his tanned skin couldn’t conceal it. You don’t think you had possibly ever seen him so embarrassed as he stumbled over his words, and stuttered out excuses.

Well, this wasn’t going to do.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself, and plastered a wide smile on your face. As you made your approach, Mammon was the first to notice you. He snapped his mouth shut as all the color drained from his face. It was bad enough having his brothers yell at him. But now you were here. And he was utterly screwed. His mind started racing, struggling to figure out a way to explain this to you and still maintain your relationship. Before he could say anything though, Asmo spoke up.

“Oh! There you are dear. You’ll never guess what our pervert of a brother was up to.”

“What’s up?”, you asked, playing innocent.

“We caught him with your underwear! In his pocket!”, Levi explained.

“Oh. That.”

You reached for the underwear that Asmo was holding, and unfolded it to get a good look at it, making a show out of confirming it was yours.

“I gave those to him. So what’s the problem?”

You turned to Mammon and returned the clothing to his own hand, and he quickly shoved it back into his pocket. He gaped at you, completely bewildered by what he was witnessing and unable to form a single coherent thought. You looked into his eyes and gave him a soft smile, completely different from the fake one you had on earlier. He wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but he felt his body relax. For now, he was just going to go with it.

When you returned your attention to the rest of the group, they were completely silent, staring at you in shock. Satan, you could tell was quickly figuring out what was going on, and had realized how badly he and his brothers had fucked up.

“It’s not like y’all haven’t taken any pairs yourself,” you said as one by one, you made eye contact with each of them before they looked away. Only Lucifer attempted to hold your gaze, and you knew that was just his pride refusing to let him look away since a light blush dusted his cheeks.

“HUH?!” Mammon sputtered out. He looked at his brothers and all of them were in various states of embarrassment, now refusing to look anywhere near him or you. He couldn’t believe this. He was used to them picking on him, but for them to be such blatant hypocrites? What. The. Hell.

Levi attempted to defend himself, “wh wh what are you talking about?”

You snapped your head in his direction, eyes laser focused on him, “Do I need to go into detail? Really Levi? Think carefully.” Your tone of voice had turned icy. Playtime was over now, and you were not in the mood to put up with their shit. If they were still going to deny it, you were going to add to their humiliation by revealing the details that you were certain they were unaware you knew.

Levi flinched and decided to keep quiet, shrinking in on himself and trying to hide behind Beel as subtly as possible. He didn’t know why or how, but he had the feeling you knew a lot more than you had said so far and he wasn’t eager to find out exactly how much that was.

“Y’all might think you’re pretty sneaky, but when 6 demons start periodically swiping individual pairs of your underwear it adds up pretty fast. At least Asmo had the decency to take me shopping occasionally, the same can’t be said for the rest of you.”

The brothers continued to stand there in silence. Satisfied that you had put an end to the shit show you had walked in on, you turned to Mammon once again, tugging at his hand, “C’mon we had stuff to do, remember?”

“Uh. Yeah. Right.” He had no idea what you were talking about honestly, but now didn’t seem like a good time to point that out to you. You continued holding his hand as you led him to your bedroom in silence. Frankly he was too scared to speak. And really, really confused. His brothers had been stealing your underwear? And you knew…? He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

Once safely inside your room, with the door closed behind you and your book bag discarded on the floor, you flopped down onto your bed, and let out a groan. Mammon remained by the doorway, frozen in place as his thoughts started to catch up with him. Even if his brothers were a bunch of lying hypocrites, he still had stolen your underwear. That was a fact. He had been caught red handed and there was no denying it. Not that he was even tempted to try at this point after watching you and how you handled his brothers just now.

What were you going to say to him? Should he just start begging for forgiveness now? Or should he wait for you to speak first? Would you even accept his apology? He was so disgusted with himself. I really am a scumbag, aren’t I? he thought. He was certain you were not going to want anything to do with him after this. He had violated your trust. Never before had he felt guilty about stealing something, but he honestly would have given anything to go back in time and not make the same mistake twice.

“....mmon. Mammon? You okay?”

He looked up to find you right next to him, calling his name and peering into his face with concern. Why were you still so worried about him? Even after knowing what he had done?

“S’rry,” was all he could manage, looking away again.

“Sorry? Oh about the underwear?”, you laughed and took one of his hands in your own, lacing your fingers together, “It’s fine, honest. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?” He looked at you, lost and confused. Why had you been so mad then?

“No, I don’t. I only got pissed earlier because everyone was ganging up on you when they were just as guilty themselves. Well, guiltier, if I’m being honest.”

You were smiling at him, with such a gentle look in your eyes. There was no trace of the anger from earlier on your face. You were telling the truth. And as he stared at you, a thought occurred to him.

“Guiltier? Whaddya mean?”

You laughed loudly at his question, before smirking and asking him, “Do you really want to know?”

He gave you an eager nod and you pulled him to your bed, before crawling in and curling up next to him as he joined you. Usually he was the one holding you when you cuddled during movie nights, or whenever else. But today you wrapped your arm around his shoulder, and he rested his head on your chest as you ran your fingers through his hair. With your free hand you once again reached for his and laced your fingers together.

“Well, Asmo I know has taken several pair. But like I said downstairs, he takes me shopping often and replaces them regularly. He’s probably the only reason I still have any underwear left at all.

Belphie has a couple different pairs that he keeps stashed under the pillows on his bed and in the attic. I try not to think about what he does with them while sleeping.

Beel actually doesn’t have any in his possession...but he has eaten them once or twice. To his credit, I’m pretty sure those were accidents.

Levi, poor guy, actually has a small shrine hidden in his closet behind his one for Ruri-chan. Now that was fun to discover. I’m pretty sure he’d spontaneously combust if I ever mentioned it to him directly,” you laughed at the thought of your precious otaku realizing you knew about his little homage to you. I should probably go check on him later, you thought, he was almost as sensitive as Mammon when it came to being embarrassed.

You felt Mammon laughing as well, and planted a small kiss to the top of his head before continuing.

“So that leaves Satan and Lucifer.

Satan only has one pair that he keeps hidden in a book that he stores under his mattress. I guess he figured I’d never find it there, but the hard lump is pretty obvious when you sit on his bed.

And finally, Lucifer. Dear, sweet Lucifer,” you couldn’t help but laugh as you thought about all the things he had done, unbeknownst to you as far as he was concerned, “Lucifer is the worst offender of them all. There’s a reason he hardly lets anyone into his private study.”

Mammon lifted his head to look at you, and his eyes were sparkling like he had just discovered the best kept secret, “Really? Lucy? He did that?”

You laughed again and continued, “Yeah, I made the mistake of browsing through his books in there while waiting for him once. Never again. I only bring my own books to read now.”

You resumed playing with Manmon’s hair as he settled back down, chuckling at the thought of his brother having a secret panty stash hidden within the bookshelves in his study. He’d have to check this out for himself one day. Just to verify it, ya know. Not because he wanted to steal another pair for himself or anything.

“Anyways, that’s why I’m not mad at you. You were actually the last one to take something from me, and judging by what I saw earlier, it only happened yesterday,” Mammon froze. He had forgotten about what had gotten him into this situation in the first place. And he certainly didn’t expect you to be able to tell what day he had taken them. Though, it shouldn’t have surprised him since the underwear featured a pretty distinct pattern.

“Can you do me a favor though?”

“Hmm?” Mammon hummed in response. He would do anything for you.

“Take me shopping later and help me pick out some new ones?”

#gn!mc #platonic mammon #platonic relationships #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #mammon x mc #obey me fanfic #mammon fanfic #obey me fluff #mammon fluff

337 notes · View notes

eurydicees · 3 years

Text

at the whisper of a violin

summary: momiji gives one last violin performance, just for the two of them, in which he bares his soul. a story in which tohru doesn’t understand, until she does.

prompt: momiru for @eroshiyda ! i hope you enjoy <3

pairings: momiji sohma/tohru honda

words: 1495

warnings: none

note: here is a spotify link to the violin piece, “none but the lonely heart” by tchaikovsky, that i listened to on a loop while writing this :)

“Tohru!”

Tohru turns away from the stove, catching just the sound of Momiji’s voice as he pauses at the front door to tug off his shoes. It takes only a moment before he comes into the kitchen, a bright smile on his face.

Tohru grins at him. “Hello—”

“Before I chicken out,” Momiji cuts in, “I promised that I would give you a private concert.”

Tohru blinks. “Oh, Momiji, you didn’t really have to—”

“I wanted to!” Momiji interrupts again. The excitement is bleeding into nervousness which bleeds into his voice, into the slight shake of his hands, into the grin at his lips. He hoists the violin case in his hands up, just showing that he has it. “Come on, take a break from cooking. You work too hard, Tohru.”

Tohru glances between him and the vegetables that she had been cutting on the counter. Slices of carrots and scallions are resting in piles at the cutting board, the knife still in her hands. The miso soup in progress is simmering on the stove. “I suppose this can wait a few minutes.”

“Great!” Momiji grins, grabbing her hand.

He pulls her out of the kitchen and towards the table, Tohru following him with a yelp. She sits down at the table, legs folded underneath her. Momiji stands across the table from her— he sets down the violin case and pulls out the violin.

“I got all prepared earlier,” he says, putting the violin to his shoulder. “I didn’t want to have to warm up while you were watching.”

Tohru smiles at him, something warm coming to her cheeks. He’s more considerate than people give him credit for, she thinks. There’s something about the brightness of his smile and the energy that’s constantly running through his veins and coming out in bursts of laughter and movement that makes him seem childish, that makes him seem like he’s less than he is. Seeing him here, holding the violin, in his element, Tohru thinks that maybe she’s beginning to see through all of that.

“What are you going to play?” she asks, rubbing her palms against her knees.

She’s sweating from standing over the heat of the stove, and she can feel a kind of nervousness rising up in his throat. She can’t place why it comes, but Tohru has always had a good sense for people, and she can’t shake the feeling that Momiji is saying something with this performance that he can’t say out loud.

Last time that they had talked, Momiji had said that he was going to quit playing violin, but he had promised her a concert, just between the two of them. Tohru is, with a sudden and acute awareness, terrified that this is going to be the last time that he plays violin. She doesn’t know what to do with that, with this gift— if she’s the last person to hear him play, play for real, that means he’s given up on his dream of a concert just for his family.

She can’t let that happen.

For the hundredth time that week, Tohru promises herself that she’s going to find a way to break the curse. This isn’t going to be Momiji’s last concert. His mother hasn’t heard him play, not yet.

“Wish Upon A Star,” Momiji says, smiling, “just like you asked for. I’ve been practicing all week.”

“You learned it so quickly,” Tohru says, more of a breath than a sentence.

He shrugs, the violin hitting his chin. “I wanted to do this for you. As a thank you.”

“A thank you for what?” she asks, frowning.

“For being my friend,” he says, a soft smile on his face. It’s sad, though, and she can’t quite figure out why. “Are you ready?”

Tohru nods wordlessly, and Momiji begins to play.

She doesn’t know that she’s crying until she feels the tears drip from her cheeks to her clasped hands. She didn’t know, before this, how much music can move a person. How much it can say.

Even in such a simple song, Tohru can hear the talent that rests in Momiji’s fingertips, she can feel the longing in the notes— the wishing for something that you can never have, the aching desire to hold it in your hands and the coldness in your palms where you know it will never lay. She can hear every emotion that she’s ever felt poured into each note.

Momiji closes his eyes while he plays, swaying back and forth slightly, his hands moving deftly across the instrument— fingers pressing down at the strings, wrist at a sharp angle, the bow of the violin falling across the strings as if it were the wind brushing through the trees. He gets lost in the music, lost in each dip and trill.

Tohru watches with wide eyes, feeling the tears falling from her face as Momiji brings the song to its climax. He picks up speed, the bow moving quickly, his fingers flying across the strings until she can’t differentiate between ring and pinky. She watches him as he stands there, his stance strong, rooted into the ground with a kind of force that she doesn’t understand— like he’s scared that the music will give him wings and let him fly above the house and up to the sun. Like he’s afraid of the flight of sound.

The music spills out from the violin in a kind of heartbreak, in a kind of longing, in a kind of wanting. There are no words for this, Tohru thinks. There is only sheet music. There is only song.

She can’t put all of her thoughts together as she listens, can't string together a coherent sentence. She loses herself to the music. She lets herself fall into it, swimming among the notes, letting all of the feeling spill out of her chest and into the violin. She feels the tears falling faster, and she loses her breath as Momiji curls out one last note.

It’s filled to the brim with longing and wanting and words that can never be said out loud.

The two of them let that last note hang in the air for a moment, let it disappear into the wind. Momiji keeps his eyes closed for that second, just drinking in the sudden silence.

When Tohru finally brings herself to clap, Momiji opens his eyes. He turns to her with a sad smile.

“You’re crying,” he says softly.

Tohru wipes at her cheeks with her shirt sleeve, trying to clean herself of all sadness. She feels drained, in a way, like the song had taken everything out of her. “It was beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs. He places the violin carefully in the case again, exhaling slowly. “I can’t continue my lessons anymore, but I’m glad I got to perform for you.”

Tohru swallows. “Thank you, Momiji.”

“Anytime, Tohru,” he says quietly. He chews at his lip for a moment before sitting down across from her. He busies himself with loosening the violin bow, with setting it away, with carefully strapping the violin into its case, with everything he can do but look at her. “Do you understand?”

“What do you mean?”

“What I’m saying.” Momiji takes a breath. “Tohru, do you know that I love you?”

Tohru stares at him. Her cheeks are still wet. There’s a new kind of longing in the air, a new kind of song. “What?”

Momiji doesn’t look at her, just closes the violin case and takes a breath. “You don’t have to say anything. But I’m glad you liked the song.”

“I loved it,” Tohru says softly.

Momiji stands up. He’s gotten taller; when did that happen? When did his eyes get so sad? “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Tohru nods as Momiji takes his violin case and starts to leave the room. Just as he passes her, she grabs his wrist, her arm hitting the violin case. She winces at the bump, but doesn’t cry out. She just stares at the space where he had been standing, holding onto him. Momiji stills.

“I loved it,” Tohru repeats, and Momiji makes a startled noise. “Do you understand?”

Momiji is quiet, and Tohru takes a breath. She says, “Will you play for me again, eventually?”

“Whatever you want,” Momiji says, his voice choked. “I’ll play whatever you want.”

Tohru lets go of his wrist, standing up. She looks at him, searching his eyes for something, for some kind of question, some kind of answer. Carefully, she brushes a curl of hair away from his eyes. “There’s a new Mogeta movie in theatres.”

“I’m free tomorrow,” Momiji breathes, voice catching on a new brightness, a new music.

His eyes meet hers, and she smiles at him. She can still hear the song in her head, she can still feel the tears drying at her cheeks, she can still taste the sound of the violin in his words. “I’ll see you then.”

#my writing #august prompt challenge #i'm gonna b real. i wrote this in half an hour and am not happy with it but i need it gone from my drafts before i lose my mind.#is it in character? who knows. not i.#fruits basket #momiru #momiji sohma #tohru honda #momiji x tohru #fanfiction #fruits basket fanfiction #furuba 2019 #furuba fanfiction

26 notes · View notes

basicbatboys · 3 years

Text

Drain-O

Part 2

WARNINGS: Abusive ex, descriptions of abuse, violence, death, angst, language

A lil vent writing :) This is the first thing I’ve written in a very long time and a topic close to my heart! The title is irrelevant to the fic, it was just my own personal Drain-O

1914 words

Jason finds out you’ve been talking to an abusive ex who you’re convinced has changed. You go out with the ex and chaos ensues. There’s nice fluff at the end with Jason consoling and talking with you. This is not a light fic.

If you or someone you know is struggling with domestic abuse, it is not a situation that you can handle alone. Please reach out to someone and find help. You deserve better.

800.799.SAFE (7233)

https://www.thehotline.org/

I stood in front of my full length mirror, smoothing down the slight creases in the dress I’d grabbed out of the closet. I smiled softly at my reflection. It had been a while since I’d felt this nice- since I’d had something to feel nice for. I gave myself a final once over, and when I was content I turned to head toward my desk to finish the final touches on my hair and makeup. When I turned, I was a little too unsurprised to see a dark figure crouched on my windowsill. I sighed and walked toward it, undoing the latch.

“Jaybird, you find the worst times to pester me.”

The figure slid through my now opened window with a grace that someone of his size shouldn’t be able to muster. His feet hit the ground with a soft pat and he shut my shade to give himself the privacy required to pull off his helmet. He flashed me a cocky smile and ran a hand through his hair. “It’d hardly be pestering if it was a good time for me to show up.” He pointed out, walking toward my bed and taking a comfortable seat.

I rolled my eyes and retreated to my desk, flipping my hair into a simple messy bun. “I’m leaving soon. And you know, if you keep showing up here, someone is bound to think you live here and break in.” I gave him a pointed look and he responded with a nonchalant eye roll.

“Fun surprise when they stumble on a woman getting ready for a-” he looked me up and down, “date?” He tried.

I nodded. “Yeah, a date.”

He frowned softly and stood up, walking to stand behind me and look at me through the desk mirror. “With whom?” He demanded lowly.

It was my turn to roll my eyes. I turned around in my chair and folded my hands together, begging. “Please, papa! Please, I love him! You can’t forbid me from going out any longer!” I chided, my voice high and my lashes batting.

He sighed. “You know why I’m asking, batbreath.”

I sighed too and turned back around, my attention returning to my makeup. Jason had a reason to be hesitant about my going out. He’d recently discovered that my ex had been talking to me again, and foolishly, I’d let him talk me into taking me out tonight. Of course, Jay didn’t know that last bit. If he did, there’s no way he’d let me leave. My ex had been… Impolite, to say the least. Before I had been introduced to the vigilante family he’d been really good at knocking me around. Most days I’d spend my time covering black eyes and downing countless painkillers. Now was the hard question. Why was I going out with him again?

Well, it had been a year now. I knew how to handle myself, if he thought to try something. And really, I missed him. The memories we had together were clouded by pain, but he was the first man to love me. He held me at night. He kissed me under the stars and in the rain, he bought me flowers and bracelets, and he held my hand on the subway. I missed the way I felt carefree when he laughed. I missed the happy times. I thought, hoped, that things could change. That things would be different now.

“Hey.” Jason nearly yelled, snapping me out of my train of thought. I nearly pierced my nose with my mascara wand.

“What?” I snapped, turning to look up at him again.

“I don’t want the trademark attitude right now. You don’t get to have an attitude. Who are you going out with, this is serious.”

I sighed, defeated. “His name is Zack.” I said, sliding him a fake name. “He’s a nice guy, really!” I lied, forcing a smile. “A really good guy.”

Jason didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded and backed away from my chair. “Okay.” He said, grabbing his helmet. “I won’t pester you anymore.” He said, spitting my earlier words back at me. He headed toward the window, slid on his helmet, and opened the shade. “You look nice, batbrain.” He finished before exiting through my window and into the darkness again.

“Thank you.” I said to no one.

---

“Dylan, don’t fucking touch me.” I growled, wiping the blood from my nose. I was backed into an alleyway. My blood felt like it was 90% alcohol at this point. He’d been feeding me drinks all night for this planned outburst. I’d never felt stupider in my life.

“God, how many times have I heard you say that? At least a thousand, at this point.” Dylan laughed, stalking toward me. I realized now that I never watched him drink anything but water. Stupid.

“You deserve this, sweetheart, after the hell you’ve put me through. It’s been impossible to bang anyone with all the bullshit you’ve spread about me.”

I could hardly hear him. There was so much fog in my head and the pain from the blows he’d already delivered were clouding any sort of brain function I could have been riding on. Any of the training Batman had given me was out the window.

“It wasn’t bullshit.” I slurred. I wiped my still-dripping nose again. “See?” I said, holding up blood stained fingers. “Not bullshit. You’re a psychopath.”

He laughed again. “Oh, the attitude. How I missed the fucking attitude!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out something I couldn’t distinguish. Then, I saw the glint under the little light that the alley offered. A knife.

I backed up until I hit the wall. Was this really how I was going to die? Stupid. Stupid, stupid.

“I’m going to really enjoy silencing that fucking attitude.”

He walked toward me, slowly. I felt like I was suffocating. There was no way out. No one here to save me. I looked right at him.

He didn’t seem off put. He didn’t stop, he just maintained his pace. He was about a foot away from me when a shot rang out. I watched his body soundlessly fall to the ground. My ears were ringing. I stared, open mouthed, at the pool of blood that slid out from under his head, black and thick.

I looked up. A red helmet stared blankly at me from the rooftop. It was only then, really, that I realized I was crying. My knees gave out and I fell to the ground, my palm landing in the puddle of blood.

Jason landed on the ground beside me moments later. He knelt down and took my hand, helping me back to my feet. “Let’s get you home.” He muttered, his tone unreadable.

----

The sun beaming through my window woke me up gradually. My head was killing me and my pillow had small dots of blood decorating it from the times when my nose had continued bleeding throughout the night. I sat up slowly and the memories of the night before came flooding back. Jason.

I reached for my phone, but I couldn’t find it. I stood up and walked cautiously out to the living room. He was here and had presumably spent the night. He was already awake and sitting on my couch.

“Hi.” I breathed, unable to say more than that.

He looked up at me with dark, angry eyes. Then, surprisingly, his gaze softened. “Come sit down?” He asked.

I nodded and sat across from him. He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t need to. I knew what he wanted from me was an explanation.

“I-” I started, then stopped. I was already crying again. Embarrassment was the best word for what I was feeling. “I lied to you. I don’t need to tell you that, you already know. I lied to you because… Because I knew you wouldn’t let me go. And I should’ve told you. I shouldn’t have trusted him again, Jay. I know. But… I…” I couldn’t fully articulate the way I felt. I knew that I needed to try but between the throbbing pain and the hangover burning a hole in my brain it was damn near impossible to get anything coherent out.

Jason didn’t say anything. He wanted to let me finish, I assumed.

“He was… I loved him. I thought that maybe he had changed because he apologized and explained things. He said he was seeing a therapist now. That he had figured out ways to help himself cope with his problems, and Jay, I mean, he was my first real love. He made me feel so carefree and so happy. The times that he hit me were… I mean they were terrible but he always worked so hard to make up for it. I thought that there was good in him. I thought that maybe we would go back to just being happy together. And with everything I learned in training I knew I could protect myself. And then he got me drinking and I thought he was drinking too but he just kept ordering me drinks and you know how I am with alcohol, I didn’t think twice about what he might have been doing to me. Jason, please-”

He held up a hand. “Don’t.” He said softly. He put his face in his hands and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I… I’m disappointed.” He said finally. The words struck me deep in a core part of myself. “I thought you knew better.”

I didn’t know what to say. I looked down and watched the tears from my eyes turn into dark spots on my shorts.

“But-” he continued, “That’s how you’ve always been. Always wanting to see the best in people. Always wanting to fix what just can’t be fixed. You were clearly manipulated. He clearly fucked you so badly in the head that you really thought he loved you.” He looked up at me.

I can’t imagine what he must see. Some dumb child sitting in front of him, crying like everything wasn’t her fault. I would have been safe if I hadn’t just walked right into his trap. I could have saved everyone the headache. I must have looked so pathetic.

“You don’t need a lecture. You need help. You need-” I let out the sob that I’d been holding in and he sighed. “You need a friend.” He stood up and walked toward me, pulling me into his arms. “I am so sorry that you have never known real love. I’m sorry that that is what love is to you because it is so much more beautiful than kissing bruises.”

I looked up at him and he carefully tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and wiped away a tear that had tracked a glistening trail down my cheek. “It is so much gentler.” He whispered. I couldn’t hold his gaze so I looked back down.

He didn’t force me to look at him. He didn’t say anything after that. I wanted to believe him, but the love he described sounded too fairytale-like to be real. Love is damaged. I wanted to argue but I knew there was no point. He saw me as damaged, and hell, maybe I was. All I could offer him was the same hollow “Thank you.” that I spoke to no one the night before.

#jason todd x reader #dc fanfic #jason todd #x reader #angst #fiction #fanfiction #detective comics #red hood #red hood x reader #dc fanfiction #for the soul #triggering content #fluff #repair

119 notes · View notes

gr0vndz3ro · 4 years

Text

More -pt.2

Bakugou x reader

Warnings: Angst, cursing, mentions/use of alcohol, almost harasment?, mention/use of drugs??, my heart just hurt ok, mentions of fwb

Word count:3,220

A/N: thank you for the responses on the first part, this is pretty soon after but I still felt really inspired for it. But ask and you shall receive. Here is part two for More, I hope yall like it (:

Read part one here: pt.1

You regretted saying goodbye.

From the moment you had walked away from him and left in the rain you were filled with regret. The thought of if he watched you leave haunting your thoughts. You doubted it. It had been just over 2 months since you ended things between the two of you, but the ache in your heart made it feel like so much longer. Maybe I should have just kept things the same, at least then I’d still have him. Thoughts like this constantly circling your mind as you laid in bed, engulfed in darkness, the only comfort you felt was from the warmth of your blanket.

You cursed yourself for feeling like this, for being this dumb. This whole situation was just so fucking clique. The fuck buddy falling in love for the other when everything had started on a strict no feelings, no strings attached agreement. Thinking that you were strong enough not to fall in love with the way that his fingers left goosebumps across your skin. That you could listen to his endless sweet nothing that he would whisper into your ear and not fall in love with the man behind each and every word. Thinking that every time you were thinking of him that maybe he was thinking of you too. Eventually you were ripped out of this hope with every day that had passed with out a response from him.

With every morning that you woke up to no new notifications from the only person you wanted to hear from, you felt your chest get heavier. You figured that the best way for you to get over him was to try talking to someone new, but you couldn’t help but want to leave every flirt on read. They weren’t him. But you needed some way to get him off your mind. So you drowned yourself in men. Not spending a moment alone, because you knew that as soon as you did he’d creep back in to your thoughts.

At first your friends brushed it off as a typical rebound, but after a while they started getting concerned. You constantly ditch them and cancel plans saying that your busy, just to find you in a bar or with some guy. They couldn’t keep track of you any more, you were all over the place. Your best friend Mina couldn’t stand to see you like this anymore. It broke her heart every night that she found you at some bar and managed to bring you home, hearing the way that you spilled your emotions to her in your drunken state. She knew she needed to do something.

You woke up in your bed, a throbbing pain in your head. On your nightstand there was a cup of water, a pain killer, and a note. You swallow the pill while picking up the note, “Hey I left you some food in your fridge, don't forget to eat. The gang all wants to go to the movies the weekend, and I hope you’ll join us. I love you hun-Mina” You small smile makes it’s way to your lips as you read the note. She was probably the reason you were at home. Pulling the sheets up the body, you let your head hit the pillow again, not wanting to deal with the real world yet. You closed your eyes, wanting nothing more than to fall back to sleep.

But begrudgingly you got up from your vibe, pulling the sheets away from you and walk over to the mirror. Geez I look like a mess. Was the only thought that came to your head as you looked at yourself. You walk over to your closet to pick out some clothes before making your way to the shower. You turn it on and let it heat up before stepping in. The feeling of the hot water hitting your back relaxes you but you can’t help but start to think.

Had all of this really been a smart idea. Should you have even started all of this with the angry blond? You had to have known that he couldn’t feel the same. After all those years in high school and he only came out with one best friend and only a handful that he tolerated. So what made you think you were different. What made you think that you could be the one to bring down his giant walls and make him bring someone into his life. That he would ever be able to see you more than just another extra in the way of his personal success. You shake your head in attempt to get those thoughts out of your head but you had ignored them for to long.

But a part of you wished that you could have been the one to get him to open up. Be able to see the softer side that you know he has, the one that he keeps hidden away from the rest of the world so well. To be able to have him come home from a particularly rough day at work and the first thing he does is hold you in his arms, kissing your forehead as he vents to you about everything that is on his mind. To be able to have him pull you close to him in the dead of the night like you had caught him the few times you woke up in the middle of the night. The way he squeezed onto you while you were dead asleep making uou think that maybe, just maybe he had felt the same for you. But as the water trails down your back and into the drain, and your standing alone in your bathroom shower, you are abruptly reminded of how alone you really are. That it was only you that felt that way and nothing more.

“Fuck this, I can’t keep feeling like this” You say to yourself as you finish washing. You put on your clothes and walk over to your vanity to start getting ready. “Lets go get rid of these pesky emotions what do you say.” You say to your reflection as you grab a brush and get ready for the night.

~time skip~

When Bakugou got off of work he wasn’t expecting the first thing he sees to be text from his old friend Mina. But what he was expecting even less then that was the contents of the texts. He understood why Mina was concerned but why did she think he would be the best person to call in this situation. None the less here he was, standing in some random club on a side of town he had never been too. If the drive wasn’t enough to tick him off, then the booming sound coming from the pack venue was. You just have to find her then you can go the fuck home, was the only thought that was pushing him through this crowd. Had it been anyone else, he would have probably just said fuck it and went home, but he felt he owed you this at least.

But his search was starting to prove useless as he had been in the club for almost 2 hours without even so much of a glimpse of you. He started heading to the door so that he could call Mina back and let her know he couldn’t find you until he spotted you at the bar. You were sitting there with some mans arm wrapped around your shoulder. Bakugou didn’t recognize him as any of your friends so he made his way over. When he had made it over to the duo he could tell for sure that it for sure wasn’t someone you knew. His eye brow raised at the view of the mans lips attaching to your neck, the two of your eyes meeting. He could see it in your eyes that something was off.

“Who’s this?” Bakugou lets out, annoyed that he even has to be asking this question. The said person in question paid no attention and continued his grouping.

“Thiis -hick- is my new boyfriend for toniight. So if you don't miiind, im -hick- buuussssyyyy” the words slurring for your mouth, barely able to put together a coherent sentence. Bakugou rolled his eyes at your state. He went to turn around and leave when his eyes caught sight of your drink, a small empty capsule beside it, and suspicious trail of bubbles leading from the bottom to the top of your drink and it clicked in his head.

“I think it’s time to get you home.” he reaches over to grab your hand but is quickly shut down by the man beside you. His arms caging around your frame acting as a barrier between the two of you. “Move out of my way extra.”

“Can’t you see that we’re kinda busy here pal. Why don’t you go fuck off and find something else to get your dick wet in alright, this ones mine for the night.” The man grabbing a hold of your face to pull you into a kiss, as you’re unable to fully process everything that he is saying. A crackling sound can be heard from behind you as the man that was attacking your mouth was ripped off of you. You gasp for a breath of air feeling previously suffocated by the stranger you had met a half hour ago.

“I’m going to be nice since she’s here and give you one warning. You are going to back the fuck up and leave her the hell alone before I blast you head off do you understand? Or you would you like to stay will I get someone to test out this drink to see what the fuck you put into it? Its your choice you fucking lowlife, so what is it going to be?” The man that was previously latched on to you was quickly fleeing to the door, trying to create as much distance as he could between you and the raging blond as he could. “That's what I thought, fucking coward” His attention now turning over to you as he notices you starting to lose your balance just sitting in the stool. You start leaning heavily and Bakugou is quick to catch you before you hit the floor. “shit, shit. Fuck. Okay we need to get you out of here” Is all that is able to leave his mouth as he picks you up bridal style and heading to the door.

“Nooooo I was just having -hick- fuuuun” you head dropping back as you watch all the people passing you by as he walks out the door. Bakugou pays no attention to your ramblings as he makes his way further out the club, the bouncer giving him a suspicious look before realizing the situation and clear the exit to allow for the two of you to leave quicker. He makes it to his car and manages to unlock it while still holding it and puts you into the passenger seat. As he goes to reach across your body to grab the seat belt. “Ooo a hug?” You reach up to try to wrap your arms around him but he moves away from your reach. He shuts your door before walking over to his side of the car and stepping in. A pout across your face as you speak up again, “Why no hug?” He looks over to meet your stare.

“Because I know that if you weren’t in the state you’re in right now you wouldn’t want to hug me, and un like that asshole I know some fucking manners.” His grip on the wheel tightening as he thinks back to the scumbag who had the fucking audacity to lay his hands on you and take advantage of you in this mess of a state. The drive back to his apartment was quite from then on, seeing as you passed out half way through his sentence. When the two of you had arrived he carried you up to his apartment. He walked you into your room before trying to decide on whether to change you out of your outrageous outfit. He didn’t want you to feel like he was taking advantage of you, but he couldn’t let you sleep in those uncomfortable clothes. After struggling with the tightness of the dress and the lack of help for your semi comatose bod, he finally managed to get you out of your dress and into one of his shirt, quickly swallowing you in its size. He very well could have put you in some of your own clothes that you had managed to leave here but he couldn’t stop himself from needing to see you wrapped up in his shirt. He layed you in his bed and pulled the blankets over your body before walking out of the room, making sure to look back a final time at you before exiting the room completely.

~the next morning~

You woke up with a pounding in your head, this time different from before. You look down at the blanket that covered your body before taking in your surroundings. There was no way. How were you back in his room. You quickly get out of bed, quickly regretting it by the feeling that takes over when you get to your feet. You felt like you were going to throw up, and not just because of the feeling in your head, but because of the all to familiar smell of caramel. Your eyes quickly meet the door what you hear a knock as you walk over to open it not wanting to meet the eyes of the person on the other side.

“You look like shit” You quickly go to slam the door shut, but your stopped by a hand in the frame. The door pushing open as you fail to keep it shut, Bakugou winning and taking a step inside of his room, you wanted nothing more than to lock yourself away forever. “What the fuck are you doing with yourself? It’s bad enough you don't talk to anyone but I have to come home to a call from Mina to come and rescue you? What the hell are you doing? You can’t keep kissing strangers, pretending that it’ll make all of your problems go away.” He looked down, taking you in. The way you stood infront of him making him want to do nothing more than to hug you but he couldn’t help himself from putting up his wall, trying to block you out

“I don't owe you an explanation Bakugou. Thank you for whatever you did but I’m going to be leaving now.” You go to try to slip past him to get to the front door, but soon are stopped by his grip on your wrist.

“Your friends are starting to get concerned. They’re worrying about you and honestly I’m starting to see why.” You couldn’t help but scoff at his words. He was concerned about you?? You could really tell by the way that he checked up on you, Your eyes just rolling at the thought. You didn’t have the energy to play these games with him. Pulling your arm out of his wrist you take a step toward him, anger starting to take over as you speak up.

“You’re concerned Bakugou? That’s just fucking rich. I could really feel your worry over the countless calls and messages you left, oh wait, my bad that wasn’t you, was it? That’s right because you never fucking called or texted or anything. But now all of a sudden you think you’re going to swoop in here and save the day, pull me out of the despair that apparently is my life and make everything better?”

“Y/N-” He goes to speak up but you cut him off.

“You know what I think I’m finally starting to understand you. Your the kind of person who loves toying with others emotions. You give them messages and make them feel like you care with sweet words, but leave in the middle of the night making them feel all alone. You make them grow used to your constant attention and texts and then when they pour their heart to you, you fall off the face of the earth. You choose to have friends with benefits because you are so fucking afraid of commitment it hurts. Why is it so impossible for you to let someone care about you?!” Your finger are prodding his chest roughly as your voice starts breaking at the raw emotion pouring out of you.

“Would you just listen to me for a second?” His hand grabbing your wrist again to stop your tiny attacks on his chest.

“What can you say that would possibly make any of this better Bakugou?”

“You’re right okay.” You were half tempted to pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming. The Bakugou Katsuki admitting you were right? You never thought you’d live to see the day. But you were taken out of your thoughts as he continued. “You’re right. I am scared of commitment. But it’s not because I’m afraid of someone leaving me or people caring about me. It’s because I’m scared I’m never going to live up to your expectations. That I’m never fucking going to be good enough for someone like you. So yeah I thought that being friends with benefits would just be easier. But -fuck- being around you, it was so fucking hard not to fall in love with you. With all the little shit that you do, constantly making me think about you. I’ll admit that I was a coward. Letting you leave that day, when I wanted nothing more than to run after you and make you come back. To tell you exactly how I felt about you. But I let you go, so I didn’t feel like I deserved a second chance. So I’m sorry that I never texted you okay? But you deserved more than that.”

You had never felt so much emotion pour out of him before, the wall he had built crumbling infront of you. And that’s when his words hit you.

“You love me?” Your voice soft as you look up, looking into his eyes, hoping that what you heard hadn’t been a mistake. He stepped forward, his hand coming up to meet the side of your face. You melt into his touch, almost forgetting how warm it was. He held your face in his hands as a look you had never seen crossed his face.

“Did it take you that long to realize?” Your eyes start to tear up as you find yourself looking at his lips, not believing what you had heard. You close you eyes, as he leans down, his lips meeting yours in a soft but passionate kiss. Emotion poured out of both of you as your lips moved in perfect sync.

You knew that you both had a lot you need to talk through, but for the first time in months the ache in your heart was gone. You were once again wrapped up in his arms and for the moment that's all that mattered. And there wasn’t anything you craved more.

821 notes · View notes