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whumperooni · 3 years

Text

Good Girl This Year

Pairing: Fatgum x Reader

Tags/Warnings: public fingering, oral, unprotected sex, Lite daddy kink, praise, size kink

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Yes I know it’s after Christmas and no I don’t care;;;;;

“Alright, just one more photo and then Santa needs a break!”

There’s a collective whine that fills the room, but Fatgum just laughs at it- grins at the pink cheeked people crowded around him with drinks in their hands and joy in their eyes.

A Christmas party was a good idea- he’ll have to thank Kirishima again for suggesting it.

Said intern leads someone past the velvet rope and up to him- a cute, wide eyed thing with flushed cheeks and an excited tremble running through them. He doesn’t recognize them- must be a fan or a new sidekick to one of the many heroes at the party- and he grins wider as he pats his lap.

“Come sit on Santa’s lap, darlin’, and tell me what ya want this year.”

The flush on your cheeks deepen, but you hurry forward eagerly- perch yourself up on his lap and look up at him with wonder all over your pretty face.

Ah, you’re a real cutie- dressed up in a sweet little plaid skirt and a sweater, a set of reindeer horns perched on your head. You’re soft against him and small and Fatgum blinks when you press against him just a little, when you bite your lip as you peek up at him shyly.

“Have ya been a good girl this year?” he asks- half teasing as he places a hand on your knee.

“I- I think so, Mr. Fatgum, sir. Um, I mean Santa.”

He laughs- nice and hearty- and you flush even more, curl your little fingers into his coat. He doesn’t chide you for it- how could he when you’re so cute and sweet all perched up on his lap?

(So maybe he’s had a sip or two or three of the “special punch” that Midnight brought. And maybe it’s been a while since he’s had such an adorable little thing sat on his lap.

It’s nice- it’s really nice. And it’s a party! It’s time for him to let loose a little! He can enjoy someone cute and soft and small sitting on his lap, right? Ain’t nothing wrong with it.

And, besides, he’s Santa- he’s supposed to have wide eyed things perched on him.)

“I bet so,” he hums out, giving your knee a little rub. “Ya look like a good girl.”

A soft noise slips from you and it doesn’t escape his notice how your thighs press together and then spread just the tiniest bit wider, how your lashes flutter. A quick glance around the room shows that most everyone is distracted from him and Fatgum doesn’t hesitate more than a second before letting his hand drift up just a bit higher up your leg.

He doesn’t usually do this sort of thing but, hey, it’s a party! Maybe he can slip his number to you or somethin’- maybe he can even invite you to grab a drink for him after the party.

Yeah, that would be nice. A real good way to wind down the night.

“So, anything ya wanna ask Santa for this year, darlin’?”

You squirm on his lap and that has his fingers flexing against your thigh, his cock stirring a little.

(Okay, so maybe it’s been a really long time for him)

“I, um, well...”

You trail off- all sweet and shy- and Fatgum grins down at you, rubs your back lightly before curling his hand around and resting it on your waist. You flush just a little more at the touch, but you press even closer to him- eyes wide but holding a little spark of pleasure and want in them that anybody could see.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he encourages with a grin. “Don’t be shy! You can ask Santa fer anything.”

He wasn’t quite sure that your eyes could manage to get wider, but they do. They widen even more and the softest, cutest little noise leaves you as you bite your lip and squirm in his lap. The motion makes his hand slide up just a little higher along your thigh and neither he nor you move to put it somewhere a bit more appropriate.

“Any- anything?” you ask, voice almost a little squeaky and still so, so shy. You bite your lip again and your legs spread just a bit wider.

It’s Fatgum’s turn to have his eyes widen and he unconsciously leans over you a little, turns you in a subtle move so your parted, pretty legs are a bit more hidden from the others.

You’re bold- bolder than he thought you’d be. Hell, maybe he’ll get your number and take you out to drinks too.

And maybe he’ll even be able to bring you home for the night.

(There’s really no maybe about it- not when you’re blushing and pressing against him, spreading your legs for him even though anyone at the party could see.

You must be one hell of a fan.)

“Anything, sugar,” he tells you- meaning it, hoping that you’ll give into the temptation. “Anything at all.”

You bite your lip and you squirm a bit- lashes fluttering as your hips move against the hard bulge pressing against your soft flesh.

“What if I- what if I want you, Santa?”

Your cheeks flare bright after the bold question and you squeak after, bury your face into his chest with the cutest look of embarrassment all over your face. He can’t help but laugh- nice and hearty and amused- and he grins as you let out a muffled whine against him.

“Well, aren’t you a gutsy thing?” he teases- still grinning, reaching a hand to tilt your pretty, flushed face up toward him. Despite the embarrassment, you still press into his touch and Fatgum’s eyes draw half-shut whenever your lips part and your lashes flutter. “I like it.”

You nuzzle into his palm so shyly whenever he cups your jaw and- like the good girl you are- you allow the tip of his thumb to slip between your lips whenever he traces over them with it.

“Yeah, yer a really good girl,” Fatgum praises. “And you can have me- you can have whatever ya want.”

You tremble against him- a tiny little noise slipping from you- and his heart pounds a little harder when your lips wrap fully around his thumb, when you suckle at the glove clad digit and look up at him with the cutest, sweetest look in your sparkling and adoring eyes.

Shit, you’re just the most precious little thing.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he can’t help but to breathe out. “Feels like I’m the one gettin’ a present.”

You flush and you giggle quietly- his thumb slipping out your mouth when you do. Fatgum hums in approval whenever you smile at him shyly. You peek over you shoulder quickly and Fatgum takes a moment to scan the room too.

Everyone’s too distracted by their own shenanigans- Midnight is entertaining people with karaoke, Kirishima is trying to drag Tamaki into the fray, Present Mic is harassing Eraserhead, and all the other heroes are busy drinking and flirting with each other.

No one’s paying a damn speck of attention to Fatgum or the little cutie he has perched on his lap.

Perfect.

When he looks back at you, your eyes are on him- pleading and so sweet, lit up with a darling desire. You bite your lip as he looks over you and then your hands are reaching for one of his.

They’re so small as they tug off his leather glove- so tiny as they drag his hand between your thighs and up to your mound. You’re so hot there- so warm and soaked through your panties. The tiniest noise leaves you whenever his fingers curl to brush against you and Fatgum has to stifle a groan when your hips give a tiny little rock.

He tugs on your panties- just gently- and a whimper leaves you when his finger traces along your slit, glances over your clit. The quiet whine of “Mr. Fatgum, sir” that you let out is adorable and so is the way your fingers curl into his coat again, how your hips try to buck against his fingers.

“Easy, darlin’,” he mumbles to you. “Be nice and still, little one- lemme give ya what ya want, okay? But ya gotta be quiet and still, alright? Can’t let anyone else catch on. Be good for me, gumdrop.”

A trembling little moan leaves you, but you nod and bite your lip, stay still as he gathers your honeyed juices along his finger. There’s the tiniest jerk of your shoulders whenever he slips the digit inside of you and Fatgum has to bite his cheek when your puffy, silken pussy squeezes around his finger.

Tight and eager- just how he likes ‘em.

“Mm, baby, yer little cunt is so tight,” Fatgum praises- quiet, the words catching with a groan. “Bet ya taste real sweet, too.”

You whimper so, so softly and then squeak when his thumb rubs against your clit, whenever he prods a second finger against your hole.

“D- Da- Mr. Fatgum, sir!”

Oh, shit that whine is so cute. So is your flush, your fluttering lashes, the way your teeth dig into your bottom lip to stifle your little mewls.

He’s pretty sure you almost slipped up, too- almost let yourself call him daddy.

He wishes you had- he would have loved that.

Fatgum slips his second finger into your squishy little cunny and your own claw at him, curl the fabric of his coat tight in your grasp. You have to bury your face against him to hide your gasp and Fatgum has to swallow back a groan when your insides squeeze and flutter around his fingers, when your little body trembles against him.

A look over the top of your bowed head lets Fatgum see that Present Mic is staring over at him- brow cocked high and a smug grin on his face. Fatgum huffs at the man’s leer and curls his arm around you tighter, curls his fingers deep inside of you as he does.

“C’mon, darlin’,” he mumbles to you. “Why don’t we take this to my office?”

Your tiny nod is all he needs for your consent and Fatgum gives your ass a quick little squeeze before slipping his fingers out of you. Your lips tremble with a pout whenever you’re left empty and he grins at the slight glaze in your eyes, how your wet cunt glides over his thigh and makes you breathe in nice and sharp as you scramble off of him.

Your footsteps are unsteady, wobbly and aw, hell, that’s cute as can be.

Everything about you is cute, really- you make him want to scoop you up and smother you with kisses, stuff you full of cum until you’re squealing and oozing it out.

A grin passes over his face as he thinks about that and Fatgum moves to join you, presses his hand to your back and herds you through the party and toward his office.

“Wooo, get it, Fatgum!”

The catcall comes from Kirishima of all people- the boy red cheeked and grinning-and Fatgum can’t help but laugh at it a little even if it makes you squeak and burrow against him, hide your face and embarrassed flush behind your hands.

He’s gonna have to scold his intern- there ain’t no telling how much to drink the kid has snuck.

Ah, he can’t blame him, though- he was young once, too.

Well, cat’s outta the bag, he guesses.

Fatgum cheerily lets his hand wander from your waist down to your hip and he grips it with a hum, propels you forward with a little smack to your rear. The lovetap has you mewling and Fatgum has to stop himself from scooping you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

He ignores a few jeers from the others and he leads you to the office without any delay, nudges you inside and hipchecks the door shut. He takes the time to lock it, but then his focus is solely on you.

It takes two steps to reach you and Fatgum looks down at you with a deep breath- takes in your flushed cheeks and half shut eyes, the excited tremble that ripples through you. You let yourself be pulled against him without a fuss and you’re so sweet with how you whimper, how you curl your fingers into his coat once again and how you melt into his hold.

“Gonna put ya on the desk, darlin’,” he tells you, hands running down to grip under your thighs. A tiny squeak leaves you whenever he lifts you up, but you’re quick to wrap your legs around him- or, try to, at least- and you’re quick to loop your arms around his neck. “Wanna see how ya taste.”

Shyness takes over you again once he plops you down on the desk and Fatgum can’t help but to grin whenever you bite your lip and rub your soft thighs together.

“Yer just the cutest little thing,” he coos to you- hands falling on your knees and spreading them apart. “A real treat fer me.”

You whine, softly, and it’s candy-sweet, filled with embarrassment over being complimented and pleasure over it too.

“Mr. Fatgum...”

A groan leaves him and Fatgum slips down to his knees, spreads your legs even wider and hooks them over his shoulders, pulls you forward until your tiny little cunt is nestled against his face. You whimper whenever he noses against your mound and you whine whenever his tongue glides through your slit, arch your back and knock off his hat as you curl your fingers into his hair whenever he manages to squeeze his fat tongue into your tiny hole.

He had been right- you taste so very good.

“Ah- oh! Mr. Fatgum!”

A grunt leaves him as your hips rock against his face and he coaxes a mewl from you whenever he rubs your clit.

You’re quick to cum as he eats you out and Fatgum groans his approval at the way your honeyed juices coat his face, how your hips twitch against him and jerk as pleasure shudders through you.

He keeps you close even as you try to squirm away- big, strong hands keeping you tight against his face as he eats you from one orgasm to the next. If the party was a little quieter, he’d bet money on everyone being able to hear the way you cry out and shake as he makes you cum again.

Fatgum licks his lips as he pulls his head from you and he wipes off the excess away with his sleeve, stands and looks down at you through half-shut eyes.

You’re gorgeous all laid out on his desk- so flushed and sweet and hazy. There’s just the littlest bit of sweat beaded up around your temples, just the littlest stripe of your soft tummy showing from where your sweater has hiked up. Your chest moves with tiny pants and Fatgum can’t resist leaning down and kissing you, running his hand up your body and pulling your sweater off. You blush when he straightens your headband, but you don’t hide from him- only lean back so he can see you half undressed.

You’re wearing a lacy little number under the sweater- some fancy lookin’ bra all hued in cream and scarlet. It reminds him of a candy cane or peppermint and all of a sudden Fatgum’s mouth is watering, all of a sudden he wants to kneel down again and eat your pretty pussy until the sun comes up.

He wants that, but he wants to do other things too.

Things like taking off your bra and gently teething on your tits and nursing on your cute little breasts until you’re mewling and burying your fingers in his hair again. Things like mouthing along your neck and plunging his digits back into your eager cunt, stretching you open until he thinks you can handle his cock. Things like rutting against your soft thighs and humping against your soaked pussy until you’re writhing and begging, scratching your nails along the velvet of his coat.

“F- fuck- Mr. Fatgum- Sir- Daddy!”

Fatgum groans and he pulls back from you long enough to rip off the sweltering coat, kick away the pants he’s long tugged down.

“Shit, sugar,” he groans out. “Yer so fuckin’ good. Such a good girl.”

The mewl that leaves you is sweeter than syrup, has Fatgum groaning once again.

You graciously- eagerly- part your legs for him when he places his hands to your thighs and Fatgum licks his lips as your back arches, as your head tilts back with a moan.

“Might be a bit of a stretch, baby,” Fatgum murmurs to you, rocking hips and letting his cock tease through your slit. “But a good girl like you can take it- I know ya can.”

The gasp that you let out is adorable, but your whimper is even better.

It’s all trumped, though, whenever you reach your hands down and your little fingers spread your cunt open for him, whenever you look at him through lashes wettened by pleasure and mewl out,

“Please! I can take it! I can be good!”

Fatgum groan and he braces himself over you- his soft belly pressing against yours as he fists his cock and guides it to your soaked little hole.

“Yer already a good girl, darlin’- so fuckin’ good and sweet. Just- just keep bein’ good fer me, okay?”

A whimper and a tiny nod comes from you and you shake as he slowly slides his cock into you.

He almost doesn’t hear your moan, almost doesn’t notice how your hands fall away from yourself just so you can throw a hand back over your head, curl your fingers by your lips- as soon as the tip of his cock slips into you, he gets lost in your wet heat and your gripping need, the eager clenching of your cunt.

You sob, just a little, when he presses further inside and Fatgum hushes you with a kiss, rubs at your clit to try to soothe the sting of the stretch.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he grunts as your puffy insides loosen up just enough to let him rock into you a bit more. “Doin’ so good fer me. Ya like?”

You sniffle and you whimper, tiny hands going to grip his shoulders as you clench around his cock.

“I- I do! Mr. Fatgum, you’re so big! Feels good!”

Well, shit. You’re really something else.

It’s his turn to flush from the praise and Fatgum does in spades- pink gathering along his cheeks and down his chest as he groans and rocks a bit harder, sheathes his cock even deeper inside of you.

He has to remind himself to be careful, to keep from going too fast and hurting you.

It’s a little hard, though, when you mewl and beg for more. It’s hard, though, whenever your nails dig into his back and gets him grunting and groaning. It’s hard, though, whenever you grind your hips back against him and let out sweet, stuttered noises, flutter wet lashes and moan.

“Mr. Fatgum, please! Wanted this for so long! It’s so good! Love it! Want more!”

Shit- fuck.

It’s been a long time for him and it’s been even longer since he’s had such a sweet thing- someone so eager and cute, so obviously enamored with him.

“God, sweetheart,” he groans, “yer so fuckin’ good. Ya gonna come on my cock fer me?”

“Yes! Yes!”

And you do cum on his cock- you squeal and tremble underneath him, dig your nails into his back as your cunt clamps down around his cock like a goddamn vice. Fatgum groans as you whine and his hips jerk again you, stutter as he works his cock deep inside and sheathes himself in your warm, spasming pussy.

The stretch has your eyes widening and threatening to roll back, your back arching up. It’s dramatic and it’s hot and he grunts as he starts fucking you through your pleasure and past it, as he has you going from one orgasm to the next.

You sob and you cling to him and Fatgum groans as your gummy insides pulse around him- your pussy feels like it’s trying to keep inside and he’s more than okay with that; he’d like to stay buried in your snug, warm cunt for forever.

The sounds in the room start to border on obscene- the slap of his balls against your leaking cunt so wet and sharp, your whines and mewls so loud and sweet, his grunts so low and deep. He can’t hear the party going on over all the noises, but that’s okay- that’s more than okay.

Shit, can anyone hear what’s going on?

(He doesn’t think he cares if they can.)

“Darlin’, if ya keep squeezin’ me like that I’m gonna come. Ya want me to come?”

“Yes! Yes! Daddy please come! Wanna make you come! Want you to come!”

How can he refuse such a sweet little thing?

Fatgum groans and he picks up the pace, accidentally smushes you a bit as he presses his lips against yours and grabs onto your soft thighs, grips them tight as he fucks into your squelching pussy.

“Shit, yeah,” he groans. “I’ll come for ya- come for my good girl.”

A sob wracks through you and you grab onto him- desperate and so fucking needy, so tight as he spears his cock into you again and again and again. He gets close- so close- and tries to pull out, but you shake your head frantically- look up at him with blown out eyes and lips parted with a whine, hands scrabbling along his back and legs wrapping around his waist.

“N- No! Inside! Please!” you beg, locking your ankles and pleading so prettily.

Oh, fuck.

Fatgum grunts and he pistons into you- once, twice, three times before he starts to come. A wail of keen leaves you and he growls as he feels your pussy clamp down and spasm around him, as he ruts into you and fills you up to the very brim.

He smothers you in hot, sticky kisses as he humps his cum deep inside of you and they muffle your tired coos and mewls and whimpers- your own lips moving against his in sloppy, tired little movements that would make him grin if he wasn’t so lost in how perfect your warm cunt feels around his softening cock.

When he does slide out, it’s with a wet pop and a groan. The sight of his cum trickling out of your fluttering hole is nothing short of hot to him and your whiny protest is nothing short of cute either.

You twitch on the table- tired and wrecked, sleepy with a dreamy little look on your pretty face- and Fatgum huffs with a tiny little smile, breathes in deep as he tries to catch his breath.

God, this Christmas party was a perfect idea.

A soft little noise slips from you whenever he fixes your panties and Fatgum licks his lips as the fabric immediately grows wet- his oozing seed staining the fabric dark and making it sticky against your cunt.

“Mr. Fatgum...”

He hums at the cute little mumble and moves to help you sit up, helps you pull on the sweater and takes in the tired whine you let out with a grin.

“Ah, sugar, was that a little too much for you?”

You shake your head with a weak little motion and he lets you slump against him, lets you yawn. The smile you give him whenever you tilt your head back to peek up at him is soft and adoring, hazy and sweet.

“No...no- it was perfect. Thank you, Mr. Fatgum, sir...”

It’s so cute that he can’t help but laugh and grin, can’t help but to press a kiss to your flushed cheek.

“Merry Christmas, darlin’. Make sure yer good this year too, yeah?”

A tiny giggle leaves you and you nod- smile growing sweetly as you close your eyes and yawn again.

“I’ll be sure to do so. I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t want to disappoint you, Santa.”

Fatgum snorts and he grins, ruffles your hair.

“I know ya won’t. Yer a good girl after all.”

You grin up at him- tired but pleased- and Fatgum kisses your cheek before helping you off the desk.

Yeah, he’s sure you’re going to be good.

But he might have to check up on you every now and then- just in case.

Grinning at the thought, Fatgum reaches for his clothes and starts to dress again so he can join the party once more.

#fatgum x reader #rooni's shit #fat gum x reader #i couldn't find a good manga panel for him #so i just edited a shitty santa hat on an anime still #murry chreesmuss

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amjustagirl · 3 years

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.4k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

AO3 Link here

Masterlist here

Their daughter enters the world squalling, tiny and pink and bloodied and somewhat wrinkled but healthy which is all that really matters), and Atsumu’s eyes widen before immediately filling with tears when the doctor places her in his arms.

‘You did amazin’, darlin’ he whispers, running his finger against their daughter’s cheek reverently. ‘She’s perfect’.

‘Make sure you count ten fingers and toes before you say that’, she manages to say before dropping her head back into the pillow, bone weary from her labour, and he laughs through his tears.

They name her Shino, which means stem of bamboo. She reasons that if their daughter is going to take the Miya family name, she should in fairness have a name that represents her side of the family – and besides, she’d always been drawn to the whimsicalness of the tale of the bamboo cutter, but thought naming her baby ‘Kaguya’ might be a little on the nose. Atsumu’s grandmother isn’t terribly pleased, but her stoic father bursts into tears when they tell him, and immediately sends over a crate full of toys carved out of the bamboo from their family’s ancestral grove.

The press has a field day when MSBY’s PR team releases news of their marriage and Shino’s birth, but thankfully the full weight of the team’s PR machine manages to twist the coverage to repackage Atsumu’s image as a wholesome family man, so the articles remain relatively positive. Still, they’re forced to sit through a number of photo shoots to keep the press happy, and she shudders at the office gossip she knows she’ll have to face when she returns back to work.

His teammates crowd to greet Shino when she brings her out for one of their matches for the first time. Atsumu presents Shino proudly to his teammates - ‘look at what I made’, he demands, dangling her in his hands so they can ooh and ahh over the little girl - ‘ I learnt it from one of those kiddie cartoons I watched at night when she wouldn’t sleep!’ he tells her later when she scolds him for the precarious hold.

She has to shoo Hinata and Bokuto away when they try to hand Shino a volleyball, the ball looking comically big against the baby girl. Sakusa stands at a respectful distance away, but hands her an adorable onesie in MSBY’s black and gold, wrapped carefully in plastic. The corner of his eyes crinkle behind his mask when he tells her it’s so Shino can support them properly at their next game.

‘Aww, Omi-omi! I always knew you liked me deep down inside’ Atsumu crows, bouncing on the balls of his feet and clapping his hands.

‘You’re insane to marry him’, Sakusa tells her, refusing to even acknowledge Atsumu’s tomfoolery.

‘Maybe I am’, she grins, warmth furling and unfurling in her chest.

Despite her initial fears, Atsumu falls head over heels for Shino, and continues to allow their baby daughter to wrap him around her tiny finger. He wakes up without complaint for night feedings, spends nights pacing their little apartment coaxing Shino to bed, and straps her on his broad chest for what his pronounces ‘daddy-daughter’ adventures during the off-season when she’s away during the day for work. On weekends, they bring Shino to the park to watch the birds and the clouds in the sky, to the aquarium to watch the fish in the sea, and to the museum to marvel at dinosaur bones from a distant past.

It’s at the museum that Shino says her first word, sitting between Atsumu’s legs in the museum sandbox, digging her chubby hands in the sand in search of fake fossils.

‘Say that again’, Atsumu laughs wetly, pressing kisses to the top of their little girl’s head.

‘Oto-san!’, Shino crows, the look on her face so reminiscent of Atsumu’s expression whenever he’s pleased with herself that she’s torn between feeling pride at her precocious little girl - and horror that she’s going to have her hands full with a mini-Atsumu.

‘You’re daddy’s little girl, aren’t you, princess?’ Atsumu says proudly, and Shino claps her hands as he cuddles her close to his chest. He later tries his level best to empty out the museum gift store of toys to commemorate the day and she has to slap his hands from tossing in ‘just one more toy’ into their checkout basket.

‘Are you happy, ‘Tsumu?’ she asks him later, after they put Shino to bed.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ he asks with a puzzled frown. ‘I have everything I need.’

‘Just checking’, she replies, her doubts forgotten when he tugs her into bed.

For Shino’s first birthday, both their families squeeze into their apartment to celebrate by strapping a giant piece of mochi that Osamu made to her back, a tradition to rid young children of any impurities. Atsumu nearly trips over himself trying to capture a photo of the auspicious moment Shino falls over on her butt, and showers kisses on her proudly when she does not cry.

They also carry out the erabitori ceremony, setting in front of Shino several objects symbolising the various paths she might choose in the future. Aside from the common items like an abacus, writing brush or books, her brothers insist on including a knife (sheathed, of course), earning raised eyebrows of Atsumus’s family. Osamu tosses in a kitchen spoon and Atsumu naturally places a volleyball right in the center of the spread.

‘Cheatin’ pig’, Osamu mutters when Shino ends up picking the volleyball (attracted by its bright colours, he maintains), but Atsumu ignores him, tossing the little girl in the air in delight.

‘Darlin’, come take a look at this! Kageyama-kun’s playing his first game in Rome, and it looks like - I can’t believe this, why does his technique look better than before?! What - is the water he’s drinkin’ overseas magic or something? How’s he getting so good?’

‘Tsumu, could you keep it down? I just got Shino to bed, and I really need to finish the work I didn’t have time to do ‘cos I took over her pick-up today’. She replies wearily, typing furiously at her laptop.

‘Sorry. I’ll pop over to chat with ‘Samu then, be back late!’

She nods distractedly as she hears the door click behind her back.

‘I can’t believe I screwed up so badly at practice today’ Atsumu grouses, chin propped up on the wooden countertop of Onigiri Miya in between mouthfuls of food. ‘I kept missing my serves, and then that asshole Omi-omi dared to laugh when I ran around trying to get my head back into the game –‘

‘Tsumu’. Osamu cuts in, setting another onigiri in front of him. ‘As much as I want to listen to you complain about your no-good, very-bad day, could’ya help your poor wife out a little bit?’

‘Thanks ‘Samu’, she musters the energy to give him a distracted smile, juggling a bowl of rice porridge she’s trying to persuade Shino to eat and preventing said little girl from smearing rice grains all over the place.

Atsumu plops Shino onto his lap, and continues talking over her head. She takes the opportunity to stuff her face with food – glorious food, and doesn’t notice when he maintains a sullen silence as they walk home.

A hush ripples across the stands like a tsunami when Atsumu gets substituted midway during the last set of the match. She isn’t surprised, not when he started playing badly during the set – there was a little kid that screeched just as he was about to serve, and he’d hit the ball way out of bounds. That had been the start of his downward spiral during the game – his dump shots got picked up, his blocks weren’t quite on point, and worst of all – he’d somehow managed to misjudge the timing of a toss to Hinata-kun, the ginger haired spiker looking confused when the ball missed his hand.

He’d stormed off the court the minute the referee’s whistle sounded, frustration and anger written all over his face and she’d made a beeline for the locker room, tucking a sleeping Shino into her carrier. She can hear him yelling (at himself, most likely) and the distinct sound of flesh hitting metal, and is about to burst in to comfort him when Sakusa steps neatly in front of her to block her way.

‘Sakusa-kun’, she greets him, eyes darting towards the door.

‘Miya-san’, he nods at her, face already hidden behind his usual mask. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to disturb him just yet.’

She opens her mouth to object, but Meian Shugo, the team’s broad shouldered, good natured captain, plants a hand on her shoulder to gently steer her away. ‘It’s not a pleasant sight when he’s in a funk’, he tells her quietly. ‘Let us deal with it, we’re used to him. Do you need me to call you a cab?’

‘He’s my husband – I should be the one to deal with him’ , she wants to say – but doesn’t, because Shino jolts awake and starts to wail. ‘It’s fine’, she does say, hushing her little girl. ‘I’ll hitch a ride home with ‘Samu instead’.

She meant to stay up to wait for Atsumu, give him his usual kiss and listen to him talk about his day, but she’s out like a light when her head hits the pillow (it’s been a long day, in her defense) , and she has to leave in the morning for work before he wakes.

‘Everyone has their off days, but you’re an incredible setter, you know?’ she does tell him that night over dinner. Shino squeals and smashes her hand into the bowl of food.

‘Of course I am’, he frowns at her, almost as if he thinks it’s odd for her to even feel the need to say that, and turns away to ruffle Shino’s hair.

She waits by herself in the lobby of her office building for five minutes before she gives in to her impatience and calls him.

‘Tsumu? Weren’t we supposed to meet for lunch today?’

‘Oh shit – I’m sorry, doll, I promised Hinata-kun that I’ll come in for extra practice today. I’ll make it up to you some other day, ok?’

She sighs through her nose. ‘Ok – have fun dear’, she replies reluctantly, and he ends the call before she can say any more.

She can feel the gaze of her colleagues on her back, and plasters a smile on her face before marching off to her favourite dessert place, comforting herself with a box of mochi. She buys an extra box for Osamu (they had a specialty flavour just for the season, and she knows he’s been dying to try that) , and drops it off on the way back home.

Atsumu complains about only getting one piece of mochi when Osamu sends him a picture of her gift – she can imagine him gloating even though the picture is unaccompanied by any text.

‘You don’t even like chestnut!’ she scolds Atsumu, and he sulks.

‘Tsumu! Could you come help zip me into my dress?’ she calls, checking her watch impatiently. The babysitter should arrive in five minutes to take care of Shino for the night while they’re away at the team’s annual gala party.

‘Yknow’, we’d get there a lot faster if you hadn’t sold your old scooter’, he tells her, as he steps into the room, immaculately dressed in his best suit.

‘I told you – it’s not practical to keep a scooter around when we have a young child’, she answers, already weary of a conversation they’ve had multiple times before.

‘I’m just sayin’, he says lightly. ‘Oof – sorry, darlin’, the zip ain’t budgin’.

‘But it fit perfectly fine the last time I wore it’, she frowns.

‘You must’ve put on some weight’, he says absently, the heat of his hand burning on her hip even after he walks away.

‘Tsumu, seriously? I told you yesterday morning that we’re out of milk powder and diapers!’ she growls into her phone, cramming her way onto the subway. ‘Fine – whatever, you go for training, I’ll deal with it myself’, she ends the call, dropping her phone like a hot stone into her pocket.

She runs to the supermarket during her lunch break, cursing herself for wearing heels instead of more comfortable flats, picking up two packs of diapers, a double can of milk powder, and a pack of wipes on discount - all things Atsumu should have picked up last night, but he claimed he was too busy with training and club events to pay attention to a simple errand like this –

She’s so lost in her thoughts she doesn’t notice when her foot misses the curb and lands on her knees in the dust, the contents of her bags spilling onto the road. There are scores of people on the street but no one stops to offer their assistance, so she ignores the searing pain to pick her precious supplies up before they’re lost in the crowd.

The blood from the cuts on her knees drips down her calves, and she limps her way back to the office.

‘Trouble in paradise?’ Yuna-san asks with a curious smirk on her face when she heads back to her seat, eyes red, knees wrapped with white bandages.

‘No, nothing like that’, she answers the office gossip, keeping her voice deliberately light.

Atsumu only grunts when she asks him that night how his day went, kneeling down to greet Shino with a hug.

‘Won’t be stayin’ for dinner, got a team event at night’, Atsumu calls out to her, one foot out of the door.

‘What? You should’ve told me earlier, I’m already halfway through preparing dinner’, she shouts back, hacking at the vegetables on the chopping board with a vengeance.

His only reply is a slam of the door, which startles Shino enough to cry. In her hurry to get to her daughter, her hand on the knife slips, and she cuts open her hand.

The space beside her remains empty throughout the night, and she falls asleep pretending the only pain she feels is from the bleeding gash on her hand. She’s so exhausted she does not wake until her alarm rings, not even when the surge of rain overnight batters her windows and water floods the streets.

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bubsdolan · 3 years

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yayy okay :) can you write about a curvy (on the chubbier side) poc!reader and gray is absolutely in love with her but she's having some body issues n he's just like "no" and just worships her body :3 thanku thanku thankuuuuu

{tw- body imagine}

{please remember you’re beautiful just the way you are. you don’t need a man or the opinions of other people to determine your own self value. weight DOES NOT define you. stay winning!}

you never considered yourself as the skinniest, the prettiest, funniest or even the smartest one in the room. you would say average, mediocre at best and the one person people would often look past and forget was there. but grayson? grayson thought you were the most breathtaking, gorgeous, sexy, hilarious, talented, angel like person he’d ever laid eyes upon. his own little heaven on earth. his.

grayson would always make his infatuation with you known, both privately and publicly. always having his hands on you, kissing you whenever he felt the sudden urge to, looking and admiring you even when you were doing simple basic day to day tasks. he couldn’t take his eyes of you. worshiping the ground you walked on and making everyone around you know you’re his girl.

when grayson invited you along for the trip of a lifetime to his favourite safe place in hawaii, wanting his girl to experience the wonders he fell in love with, you said yes almost instantly. however, you soon came to regret your decision when you found yourself surrounded by what appeared to be your entire instagram explore page. it seemed every influencer had the same idea of flying to hawaii for the summer break, flocking in their numbers and tiny bikinis to what appeared to be a popular tourist destination.

everyone decided to meet up, coming together to chill out and relax without being penalised under the lens and watchful eyes of their following. what was considered a safe space for others, definitely wasnt one for you. as everyone met up at the twins rental home for the up and coming month, nibbles littering the tables, drinks following and a lowkey chilled atmosphere, you felt more out of place than ever before.

not to mention your were the only person of colour there. it was a room filled with next to no diversity. you felt judged and certainly felt like you were living in a stimulation that send your unhealthy thoughts and views about yourself spiralling out of control.

you refused to go near the food, fearing if you were even to get a small whiff of the delicious pastries and hors d’oeuvres, you would gain a good few pounds. you were constantly covering your stomach with a couch cushion whenever you say down. pulling at the oversized hoodie of grayson’s to conceal what in your eyes was the biggest belly in the room. hawaii was hot, the degrees only heightening as the day went on, yet you refused to take off the thick fleece lined hoodie you felt was the only thing keeping you saine.

grayson noticed of course, he always did, so in tune with you and your body. he noticed the way you would only briefly speak to ethan, him or kristina, feeling incredibly intimidated by the beautiful woman and their what society deemed as perfect bodies, but also their tiny biniks that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. he noticed the way you turned down people’s offering of food or drinks, sticking strictly to water. he noticed the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, making sure to always keep yourself hidden and away from any cameras. not wanting a photo of you in comparison to these models to leak and surface on the internet.

what really worried grayson, was the moment he tried to touch you, kiss you, hold you, or even get you to sit on his knee- like you often did in many social settings- you turned him down and pushed him away. throughout your entire relationship, grayson ever one made you feel any less than beautiful, he brought you comfort and security. yet right now, you were struggling to even make eye contact with the man you loved more than life itself.

you felt ashamed and embarrassed for both you and grayson. you conceived yourself people were talking behind your back, questioning why a god like man such as grayson dolan, was wasting his precious time with someone like you. the biggest girl in the room, with a skin tone different to ones he had dated in the past.

grayson startled you by grabbing your hand, pulling you up from your seat and leading you to the bedroom you were sharing for the duration of your stay. he slapped your hand away from your hoodie as you tired to pull at the fabric so it wouldn’t cling to your fat as you walked past the crowd. black material to be precise, as it gave the illumination of a thinner figure- according to people and the internet.

within seconds grayson is pushing you into the bedroom, shutting the door and locking it for good measure. wanting to spend some time with you away from the party goers he had no interest in, slightly regretting inviting them over when he witnessed you curl into your shell. he pulls your body to stand directly in front of the floor length mirror and situated himself behind you.

you exchange a knowing look. grayson knew you were self deprecating and his words weren’t going to cut it. he needed to show you how beautiful you were. his hands find the hem of yours- his- hoodie, tugging at it slightly as his eyes never once leave yours through the reflective glass. he awaits your consent, smiling softly when you give him the nod of approval, before he’s pulling the hoodie of your body and discarding it to the side.

his hands rub up and down every curve, every piece of excess skin you often criticised yourself for having. he ducked his head down to trial soft gentle kisses from your neck to your shoulder, down your arms and back up again repeatedly. his hands never one stopping his praise and admiration for your body. one of the many many attributes he adored about you.

your skin felt electric under this touch. goosebumps rising on your skin as you melted beneath his fingertips, your back hitting his chest as for the first time that day, you felt safe. comfortable and like you belonged.

“wanna know what i see?”

graysons voice pulls you from your focus on his hands, regaining eye contact through the mirror as he doesn’t even wait for you to response before he starts his speech.

“i see the most beautiful woman i have ever laid eyes on. i see a brave, strong young lady, someone who stole my heart and made me the man i am today. i see the brightest smile that captives any room the second you walk in. i see a arse so big and juicy i just wanna ravish it-“

you giggle, swatting at grayson’s hands as they find their home on your arse. giving it a little squeeze for reassurance before kissing your shoulder and continuing. not before he notices the tears falling from your eyes as you absorb every word.

“i see you, i see your body, i see every perfection that you consider imperfect. every scar, ever mark, every mole, i love it all. i see the way try and destroy something that i love. it breaks my heart for you to treat yourself this way, baby, but this- your body, its my home. it’s my safe place, sanctuary and the most breathtaking, jaw dropping sight known to man. fuck im so so so lucky.”

grayson turns your body around in his arms. his hands connecting together around your hips almost immediately as he reached down to place a warm gentle, loving kiss on your lips. lips that are his drug, his favourite taste, his happiness.

“so far ive been loving you for the both of us and will continue to do so until you see yourself through my eye. im nothing without you baby, so please, please let me help you learn to love yourself almost as much as i do.”

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luke-patterson-owns-my-soul · 3 years

Text

Tiny Pretty Phantoms

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Title: Tiny Pretty Phantoms

Words: 2241 (only a short one)

Summary: Charlie and his girlfriend are separated by work.

Requested: Sort of. The lovely and talented @dream-a-little-bigger-x got this request. Charlie x reader where the reader is on a tv show like ahs or something that’s not necessarily “kid friendly”. But as she’s not taking them atm, I decided to swipe this one. I hope the anon who requested it doesn’t mind.

TW: Swearing, alluding to sexual intercourse. That’s it I think. If I miss anything, message me so I can edit.

Author’s notes: I’m baccccckkkk. This was my way of getting back into writing reader fic. It’s been a while, and I hope y’all haven’t forgotten me. Also, while I’ve seen Tiny Pretty Things, I know nothing about the cast, so anything I’ve written, is completely made up.

Being back at home in my parent’s home was both reassuring and strange all at the same time. I’d been living in L.A. for almost two years, hundreds of miles away from home. While I missed my family like crazy, I loved being out in the world, being independent, and chasing my dreams.

However, rejection after rejection after rejection were beginning to weigh heavy on me and I had been starting to regret making the move. I’d been considering heading back home and teaching dance to kids. Then, I met Charlie through a mutual friend.

From the moment I met him, there was something that drew me to him; it wasn’t particularly hard. He was charismatic, funny, and crazy talented. The good looks were an added bonus. From that first meeting, we’d been inseparable and after six months, I gave up my apartment and moved in with Charlie and his friends.

We both booked jobs on upcoming TV shows within a week of one another, and we’d celebrated the news hard. A week of partying with your friends had wrecked the apartment, but it had totally been worth it. The main difference between our shows were the target audience. His, Julie and the Phantoms was aimed at a younger demographic to mine, Tiny Pretty Things. I was just glad to be using my ballet background as well as my acting abilities. He was also playing a main character, while I was to be in the background.

I was jolted from my memories by my phone ringing, Charlie’s face filling the screen. With a smile, I answered the facetime call.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, babe. I miss you.” Charlie was still in L.A., but he was at a boot camp thing that the legendary Kenny Ortega was running.

“I miss you too. How’s it going?” in answer to my question, he held up his hand. I could see band aids wrapped around his fingers. “What did you do?”

“It’s nothing. Guitar war wounds.”

“Poor baby.” I snarked, grinning at the mock upset look on his face. “Oh please. You’re loving every minute.”

“Babe, I really am.” His grin was wide. “When do you fly out to Toronto?”

“Not for another three weeks. I’m back in L.A. the day after tomorrow though. Will I get to see you?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure if we get any time off before we head up to Vancouver for filming.”

I couldn’t help the groan that escaped me. I hadn’t seen him for over two weeks, and I was going insane. It was one of the reasons behind my trip to see my family. They were enough to distract me, at least until I climbed into my childhood bed, the bed that only held me at night. That was when I missed him the most.

“That sucks.” I felt the lump in my throat, an indication I was close to tears.

“I know, babe. I know. I’m gonna try and get back, even if it’s just one night.”

“Please do.” I missed him, missed waking up next to him, missed just goofing around and hanging out with him. He was the man I loved, and I hated us being apart.

:: ::

I’d been in Toronto for almost six weeks. A month and a half had passed since I last saw Charlie, and it was killing me. It wasn’t as if I was alone, far from it. I may not have been playing a main character, but the entire cast of Tiny Pretty Things were close, even those of us in the background. We’d all been put through our dancing paces until we were exhausted – that had a habit of bringing people together.

Charlie and I spoke most days, if we could, and when we did, we were often interrupted by cast mates. Through our facetime calls I became friends with Jeremy, Owen, and Madison, and he became friends with the girls I was rooming with, and Brendan who played Shane. He and I had been partnered up during rehearsals and had become close. It didn’t bother him I wasn’t a main character and he was.

I had a rare night off while the main cast were working hard on some night scenes, so I was able to kick back in my room and relax. And I made the most of it. While a hot bath was running, I connected my phone up to my speaker and hit play on a relaxing playlist Charlie had made for me before we’d had to say our goodbyes and fly to opposite end of Canada.

I’d just sank into the steaming water, bubbles up to my chin when my phone rang. Reaching over, I managed to pick it up, and saw Charlie’s face on the screen. Quickly swiping, I answered the call, despite wanting to stare at the photo I’d taken almost a year ago when we’d gone camping.

“Well, if I’d have known you were in the tub, I would have called sooner.” He grinned as he spoke, making me roll my eyes.

“Charles Gillespie, you’re a damn perv.” I attempted to scold him as he pretended to try and look around the screen to see if he could see anything. Joke was on him, the bubbles came up to my neck.

“Only for you.” I laughed at the corny line. “Hey, why are you in the bath anyways?”

“Because I ache like a motherfucker and I don’t have any night shoots tonight. So, a hot bath is in order. I’ve been dancing almost non-stop for ten hours a day for six weeks. I never did this much when I was with the company.” I knew I was whining; knew I sounded like a petulant child, but I needed to get it off my chest. All of us in the cast moaned to one another, but it wasn’t the same as venting to my boyfriend, no matter how much I loved my job.

“I’m sorry, babe. If I could take the aches away, I would.” I knew he would too.

“I know. Ignore me, I shouldn’t be putting this on you. How’s your set?”

We chatted for almost an hour, Charlie making me laugh about his previous night’s filming eating what he said felt like hundreds of cold hot dogs, making me laugh so much, my stomach was starting to hurt when I climbed out of the bath – much to his enjoyment – and wrapped myself up in a large, soft towel. We carried on talking as I made my way into my room and got myself ready for bed.

“Look, I gotta go. But I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” I couldn’t help but sigh when the call ended, and as I snuggled up in bed, wearing one of his t-shirts, I also couldn’t help crying. It was the longest we’d been apart in over six months, and even though I was loving my job, it hurt how much I missed him.

:: ::

When I walked onto set the following day, it felt as if everyone was acting a little shifty. No one seemed to look at me directly and whenever I initiated a conversation, they either found something else to do, or the director made us begin working.

“Hey, we’re all going out for dinner and karaoke tonight. Make sure you look pretty.” Brendan whispered in my ear as we got into position in the ballet class, ready for our scene.

“Uh, okay. Sure.” He gave me a smile before walking away.

We’d all be out a few times during filming and the rehearsals we’d had before, but this was the first I’d heard about plans for tonight. Rolling my neck and stretching my arms, I put it out of my mind as I followed the instructions of the director as the scene began around me.

By the end of the day, I was yet again exhausted, and the last thing I wanted to do was go out. But, as I packed up my gear, putting my comfiest shoes on, Brendan came over.

“Don’t forget we’re going out. We’re all meeting up in about an hour. Make yourself pretty.”

“Can I give it a miss? I’m ready to have a shower and crawl into bed.” He knew how I was feeling, I could see it etched onto his face too.

“Not tonight, sweetheart. Attendance is mandatory for all.” He flashed me a wide smile before spinning away from me, no doubt off to get ready.

When I got back to the apartment I was sharing with a couple of the other female background cast, they were almost ready. The three of them ushered me into the bathroom to shower, telling me to find a nice dress.

The shower did reinvigorate me, and by the time I was dressed and applying my make-up, I was feeling much better, and was even looking forward to some great food and a good night. There were no shoots the next day, so we were able to let our hair down for the night.

When we all met up, the atmosphere was electric. We’d all worked so hard, and were more than ready for a night of not having to worry about getting up early or having to be in hair and make-up at the crack of dawn.

“Ready for a great night?” Brendan asked, linking arms with me as our huge group began to walk to a restaurant nearby we’d all been to on more than one occasion.

“I am actually. Thanks for making me come.”

“No worries, sweetheart.” He placed a kiss on the top of my head before turning to talk to the two guys behind us.

:: ::

Moving from the restaurant after dinner, we all made our way to a club where all of us were able to let go. I got myself a drink from the bar, and stood on the edge of the dance floor, watching my cast mates and friends having the time of their life, showing off their dancing skills. Laughing, I finished my drink, I put my empty glass down and joined them, losing myself in the deep bass. Brendan was in the center, lapping up the attention in a way only he could. He and Barton, who played Oren in the show, were busting out one of their routines from the show and had attracted a hell of a crowd.

As everyone whooped and hollered, I moved away, needing to head to the bathroom. I pulled my phone out of my purse to check if I’d missed any messages or calls from Charlie, but my screen was blank beyond a photo of the two of us. Disappointment flooded me as I shoved the phone back into my purse. Just as I zipped it up, I crashed into someone, strong hands grabbing my waist to stop me falling over.

Thinking my mind was playing tricks on me as my senses were invaded by the aroma of Charlie, the aroma I knew as well as my own. I looked up to find my boyfriend smiling down at me.

“What… how… huh?”

“Surprise, by airplane, Brendan organized it. Hew knew you were missing me as much as I missed you, So Kenny gave me a couple days off while Madi does some scenes with Jadah.”

“You’re really here?” I still wasn’t sure I was hallucinating.

“I’m really here, until tomorrow afternoon.”

With a squeal, I flung my arms around his neck, and kissed him. The evening suddenly got one hundred percent better.

:: ::

Waking up wrapped up in Charlie’s arms was the best thing. I’d missed it so much, and I knew I was going to struggle when he had to leave again, but I felt so happy being with him.

After he’d surprised me at the club, we’d mingled with my friends for a while before slinking away, going back to the apartment and making the most of the quiet as we got reacquainted with one another, multiple times, all night. So much so that when I managed to untangle myself from Charlie’s arms and legs to go to the bathroom, I ached in a completely different way I had been from work.

Once I was finished in the bathroom, I swiped my phone off the counter in the kitchen and sent a text to Brendan.

Thank you. I owe you one.

Once it had sent, I set the phone down and crawled back into bed with Charlie, making the most of having him with me. Especially naked.

Tagging: (strikethrough unable to tag) @dream-a-little-bigger-x @calamitykaty @crybabyddl @xplrreylo @morganayennefertyrell @lovesanimals @sunsetcurvenotsunsetswerve @echocharm17618 @kinda-really-lost @n0wornever @all-in-fangirl @5sosmukefan @kcd15 @charliesmountains @amazinggracy

If you want to be added to my taglist, drop me a message.

#Mich writes fic #charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader

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hyucks-archive · 4 years

Text

september 19.

word count: 7,342

genre: fluff

member(s): the one and only lee donghyuck

warning(s): it’s a sort of feel good fic, so unrealism™

author’s note: @haeloce has spoken - ask & you shall be given! this post is dedicated to you my love, thank you for always supporting my works

September 19, 2017.

You look up at the azure sky, the gentle autumn breeze causing your baby hairs to tickle at your face. You close your eyes, breathing in the fresh scent of what you imagine to be of wilting leaves and fresh pumpkins. You shove your hands into the pockets of your block-coloured cardigan; while most prefer to stick to the monochromatic nude colour scheme in the autumn, you like to do the exact opposite. Summer is your season for monochromes, while autumn is your season for colour. There’s just something about contrasting the seasons that you’ve always loved to do.

Pulling out the ticket from your jean pocket, you hold it up against the backdrop – you smile, tilting your head to the side, eyes going back and forth between the photograph printed on the ticket, and the actual, three-dimensional scene in front of you.

“Looks even better than in the picture,” you murmur to yourself, shoulders dropping in satisfaction. You bring your hand down, allowing yourself to really take in the entirety of the one place you’ve hoped to visit for more than half of your life – the Nami Island. It first became popular because it was the filming site for Winter Sonata, but that’s not the reason you’ve always wanted to come. It’s the actual view that you’ve always been drawn to; the tree-lined roads, and the maple and gingko trees that would turn golden red and bright yellow in the fall. Autumn has always been your favourite season, but you’ve never really been able to really drown yourself in the things that are said to define autumn as a season.

You’ve always wanted to visit. But you’ve always only wanted to visit on a September 19th.

Why?

Because you first discovered the existence of Nami Island back in 2008, on September 19. You’re usually not one to care for such things, but when you have close to nothing to really look forward to in life, visiting Nami Island on a future September 19 became the only thing you looked forward to. Yet, it took you a good nine years to get here, because every September 19, you were never able to take an off day from your job at the café.

This year, however, you finally managed to. Granted, you only managed to, because you decided to stop being a beta, and start being an alpha. In other words, you submitted your application for an off day back in January, at the start of the year. It’s only because autumn is the busiest season for the café though. Autumn is the time where everyone rushes in for the pumpkin-flavoured drinks and treats. Autumn is also somehow the season that’s the most associated with coffee.

Placing the ticket in your wallet, you slide your wallet back into your bag, finally ready to begin your exploration of the beautiful island.

As you walk, you’re warmed by the site of numerous families and lovers, who scramble about, trying to get the most scenic shots of the island. There are two toddlers who are fascinated by the squirrel that dashed across the pathway, and another three toddlers who are busy picking at the fallen, dead leaves, while their parents attempt to buy steamed buns as a treat. Further in, there’s a waft of coffee, a scent that is all too familiar to you. You look towards the somewhat populated, hanok-looking café.

The atmosphere is so different from the café you work at. Here, it’s tranquil, there’s beautiful scenery to motivate you, and there’s zero signs of the hustle and bustle of city life (which is something you seriously detest). There aren’t business people who rush in for an americano before zooming out of the door, and there aren’t students who hog the seats to mug for their exams (although, you’ve been guilty of that at some point in your life). It’s just people who are here to really take in the flavour of the coffee, and to appreciate everything about the island.

You decide to buy a cup of tea to-go, just to support the business.

With the warm beverage in hand, you continue to venture further into the island, eventually arriving at a water body at the end of the trail. You look around, scanning the area. It’s even more peaceful here than it was back at the heart of the island; there’s barely anyone here.

You spot a boulder under the tree, so you decide that it’s a sign for you to take a seat, to enjoy your off day, sipping on your cup of tea, while listening to the soft, gentle sounds from the water. You really like this. For more than half of your life, you’ve spent it being overwhelmed by crowds, working ‘till your arms and legs go sore, trying to “get ahead” of everyone else. You’ve always quite liked the feeling of sinking in work, especially labour work, because it takes your mind off of every other thing that went on in your life.

Now that you’re older, and your body isn’t as lively and healthy as it used to be, you’re beginning to learn the importance of taking breaks. Sadly, it’s a little too late. The reputation that you’ve established in the café that you’ve been working at all along, is one of the ‘perfect-worker-who-never-ever-takes-a-day-off-even-when-sick”. You have this whole thing about not disappointing people that’s going on as well.

Sometimes you really hate yourself for it. You scoff – who are you kidding? You always hate yourself for it.

Even the thought of it makes your nose sting and your lips quiver. You blink fast; it’s a technique you’ve come to master, and it works absolutely amazingly when you’re trying to hold back your tears. Not everybody can do this, so you consider it a pretty big talent.

You hear the sound of dead leaves cracking, so you turn your head to the side, where the sound had come from, only to be greeted by a gigantic brown bear, that’s holding a tray of tiny cups, that you assume to be samples from whatever store this bear’s a mascot of. You notice the sunflower that’s pinned to the bear’s chest, reading the text out loud, “Smile! It’s a beary sunny day!”

You break out into a smile, murmuring, “Not the first time I’ve heard that one.”

The bear holds out a tiny cup, allowing you to take a peek at the brown liquid that fills it. “Is this coffee?” you ask, looking up at the face of the bear. It shakes its head, pulling out a card that he had hidden beneath the tray. He passes it to you.

“Try our brand new bear liquid! Contains everything bear-friendly.” You raise a brow, looking back up at the bear, “You know that doesn’t sound very appetising, right? No one’s going to want to drink,” you hold up both hands, gesturing inverted commas as you say, “bear liquid.”

There’s a hint of a shrug from the bear, before it reaches behind itself, bringing out a mini sunflower badge. It holds the sunflower badge out in front of you, gesturing for you to take it. “You guys give sunflower badges for free?” you ask, bringing the badge up close to inspect it. “That’s kind of a good marketing idea, actually,” you say, spotting the name of the café printed at the bottom of the badge. “But it doesn’t seem very cost-efficient,” you continue, poking the needle of the pin through your cardigan, hooking it back in, securing the pin on your left chest.

“Thank you,” you say, patting the bear on its shoulder, “You’re doing a beary good job.”

The bear holds out a thumbs up, turning around to take its leave.

You watch the retreating figure of the bear, wondering how tiring it must be for the person that’s inside the gigantic bear suit. Luckily, it’s autumn, which means cool weather, but it also makes you think about how tiring it must be for the bear in the summer. Getting up onto your two feet, you smile to yourself, “Well, I have nothing to do,” you whisper, allowing the curiosity to take over you as you leap forward, taking hurried footsteps until you spot the bear a short distance ahead of you. “I guess you’ll be my entertainment for the day,” you conclude, grinning widely.

You continue to follow behind the bear, taking cover behind trees whenever it gets stopped by a bunch of kids and their parents who wants a photo with it. It continues to give out the bear liquid, but you also notice that even though it has interacted with more than 50 different people, it hasn’t given out another sunflower badge. You wonder if it’s because it isn’t allowed to give out too many of those, which, obviously, would make sense. Then again, what makes you legible for the sunflower badge, and not the rest?

The thought swims around in your head as you continue to trail behind the brown mascot, the tiny cups of bear liquid slowly reducing in quantity.

You stare at the teddy bear sunflowers that decorate the exterior of the café. “Oh, that makes sense,” you think aloud, finally understanding why the mascot of the café is a big brown bear, along with the sunflower. You take a seat on a wooden bench, crossing a leg over the other, sipping on the tea that’s now cold.

Finally, the bear finishes giving out the samples of bear liquid. You watch as it poses with different children who are so amazed by the big, live-sized, animate bear. You take another big gulp of tea; it must be tiring, not only does it have to wear that heavy, stuffy bear suit, it also has to continuously entertain the tourists that come by every day. Because you’re so engrossed in your own thoughts, you fail to notice that the bear has spotted you. It wonders why you’re here.

“Oh, gosh,” you gasp, body tensing up for a split second. The bear is now suddenly in front of you.

“Hello,” you greet, smiling. The bear bows its head. There’s a pause, then you decide to break the silence with, “Do you talk?”

The bear gestures at its wrist, before folding an arm, resting its chin in its paw, tilting its head to the side questioningly. “You want to know the time?” you gather from its gestures. It nods its head, so you check your watch. “It’s seven thirty-two PM,” you inform. The bear claps its paws excitedly, and you react with a confused smile.

“I can talk now,” he speaks, sitting himself down beside you. “Don’t you have to work?” you ask.

“It’s two minutes past my shift,” he replies.

“Cool,” you say. You lick your lips, pursing them, then deciding that you should ask the question that would get you the answer you’ve been wanting to know. “Hey, can I ask you something?” you start. The bear turns to look at you, “You followed me all the way here just to ask me something?”

“Well, kind of,” you say, “Technically, I derived the question after following you.”

“So you admit you were following me?”

“I didn’t deny it to begin with,” you state nonchalantly. You can hear the bear smirk under his bear head. “You’re honest, I like that,” he says.

“Thanks,” you reply.

“Go ahead,” he cues.

“Why’d you give me a sunflower badge, but not anyone else? I thought this was part of your café’s marketing.” You point at the sunflower that’s still pinned to your cardigan. You hear the bear chuckle under its mask, its body folding forwards as he does so, a sign of amusement. “I gave it to you because I thought you might need it,” he explains, almost matter-of-factly.

You’re slightly stunned by his reply. You think back to the situation earlier – you were busy dwelling in the thoughts that make you feel sad, that by the end of it, you were blinking away tears. Just how much of that did the bear see? You’re uncomfortable just by the thought of it; it doesn’t feel right at all knowing that someone might’ve caught a glimpse of your weakness. You don’t want that. You don’t think you can live knowing that someone potentially saw you struggling.

“But don’t worry,” he begins, as though reading your mind, “I’ve already forgotten everything.”

“That doesn’t really reassure me,” you say, eyeline falling to the ground. The bear leans his body forward, mirroring your position. “It’s human,” he says. Your eyes travel up to look at his bear face. “I get really frustrated sometimes, too. But I don’t go all the way to an offshore island to release the stress,” he pokes, eliciting a small smile from you.

“I didn’t come here specifically to destress,” you share, “I came because I’ve been meaning to come for nine years already. I just only found the chance to now,” you finish.

The bear looks at you through its mesh eyes. When he first spotted you back by the water body, he saw the way your brows knitted, the way your lips quivered, and the way you were quick to blink away your tears. He felt bad for imposing on a moment that seemed so private, but he would feel twice as bad if he had just walked away, pretending like he didn’t see what happened. So he decided to build up the courage to go up to you – it worked out really well that he’s in the bear suit. In fact, it’s working out even better now, because he can stare at you, and you wouldn’t even know. He can sit beside you, talk to you like it’s nothing to him, because all you see, is a big, brown bear.

Still, he can’t deny the slight fluttering in his heart. It’s cliché, and it’s definitely not right. But he can’t deny, that he’s attracted to you. It’s superficial, he knows. But he’s also only going to be able to see you today, and today only. After which, you’d return to the mainland, while he’d remain here, continuing his job as a mascot of the café.

He likes the way you’re smiling fondly, just at the thought of being able to finally visit the island you’ve been longing to visit.

“Do you like the island?” he asks, mentally slapping himself for not being able to come up with a better question.

“Of course,” you say, beaming. “It’s everything I imagined. And,” you pause, “I got to meet a really friendly bear, too.”

His heart does another thing at your declaration. It’s foolish, he’s well aware. But again, tonight’s his only chance to experience this. Then, you’d be gone, and he’d be back to his regular daily routine.

“Do you live on Nami island?” you ask.

“I don’t. I take the first ferry here every morning, and the last ferry back every night. The pay is good, so I don’t mind the tedious travelling,” he shares. “Wouldn’t you rather just live on this island?” you question. “Do you know how expensive that is?” he replies.

You shrug, “Wouldn’t your total expenses spent on travelling equate to renting a place here?”

“I travel for free,” he says, “The boss pays for that. I bring in customers by wagging my bear butt, so it’s a fair exchange.”

You laugh, amused by the way the bear phrases its words.

“Must be nice,” you say.

“What about you? You look like a student, so I’m assuming you work part-time?”

The bear notes the smile you force out. He can see the slight bitterness peeking from your eyes. He mentally slaps himself a second time – he must’ve said something wrong.

“I’m actually taking a gap year right now,” you share, “So I’m working full time, to save up for school.”

He understands now. It’s odd, to say the least. He feels a form of connection with you, even though he knows this’ll never come to fruition. Still, even if it’s just for tonight, he’d like to be able to just talk about what he’s been bottling up for the last few years with someone. Even better, that this someone is someone he mildly feels attracted to, and whom will go back to being a stranger after the conversation.

“Somehow, you’ll feel that whatever you make, it’s never enough,” he begins, turning his bear face away. You wait for him to continue.

“No matter how much I earn, it’s not enough. I was once naïve enough to think that I’d be able to eventually fund myself to do the things I want to do, but as I’m ageing, I’m starting to understand that that’s not possible. It’s all fiction. Fantasy. It’s all what I conjure up in my head.”

Your shoulders sink upon hearing what he has to say. Why does it seem to hit the exact points? Why do you seem to be able to relate to his plight? In other words, there are other people out there, dealing with the exact same things as you?

“Don’t say that,” you manage out, trying to think as positively as possible for the both of you. “Money doesn’t buy happiness.”

The bear turns to face you, tone serious as he says, “Yeah, money doesn’t buy happiness. But money buys you the things that make you happy.”

You feel a sting in your heart. You’ve always tried to psycho yourself into believing that what you’re going through isn’t so bad. That you’d still be able to be happy, because money doesn’t buy anyone happiness. Because of that, you’d always feel guilty for not being able to find contentment in your situation. You thought it just meant you’re greedy.

You realise now, it doesn’t.

You try your best to paint on a smile. But the bear knows well enough that it’s all pretence. He wishes you didn’t have to try so hard to be okay. At least, not in front of him.

“Who knows where we’d be a year from now? We might even be doing the things we like,” you say, feigning a tone of excitement.

“We wouldn’t know where each other is a year from now,” the bear says.

“Will you still be working here, a year from now?” you ask.

“I’ve been here for six years now.”

“It must’ve been cute, to be able to see a bear mascot getting taller every year,” you comment, lightening the mood. You can hear the bear smile, which makes you smile in return. The bear’s heart does another flip.

“Anyway,” you say, “How about I see you, a year from now, right here?”

The bear’s breath stops for a moment – are you for real?

“Really?” he asks. You nod your head. “Really.”

“Okay,” he agrees, though you can’t see the goofy grin on his face.

“What’s your name?” you ask, only realising now that you’ve basically revealed just about everything about yourself to him, excluding your name, yet you don’t even know what he looks like under that bear mask.

“Donghyuck. Lee Donghyuck.”

“Donghyuck,” you repeat after him, smiling, “Nice name,” you say, telling him your name in exchange. “So Donghyuck,” you say, getting up from the bench. “A year from now, I hope I can walk away with my memory of you, not being a bear.”

Donghyuck chuckles, agreeing.

“See you in a year, y/n.”

September 19, 2018.

You hold the bag of carp bread to your chest, your heart filled with excitement. You’ve practically anticipated for the entire of 2018, for the 19th of September to come. It’s interesting how just one conversation, of course, filled with mutual understanding and relatability, had created such a connection between you and Donghyuck.

There hasn’t been a day where you didn’t find yourself thinking about Donghyuck. You’d wonder if he had earned enough to do something he likes. You’d wonder if he’s staying adequately hydrated despite the scorching sun. You’d even wonder, if he still remembers his promise with you. A part of you is obviously afraid that after making a trip down to Nami island, that the boy in the bear suit would’ve completely forgotten about you. A part of you is afraid that when you greet him with a smile, he’d look at you with confused eyes, questioning how you know of him.

Then again, an even bigger part of you is simply hopping around in absolute joy at the mere thought of being able to reunite with a friend. You’ve never been able to meet anyone that could relate to you, the way Donghyuck can.

Upon arrival on the island, you rush off the ferry, immediately heading towards the café he works at. It’s close to 5PM in the evening. You were held up at work, because your boss had insisted that you at least take the morning shift, which made you jittery the whole day because you weren’t sure if you’d be able to make it. Luckily, it wasn’t that busy today, so you were even let off ten minutes prior to the end of your shift.

Just as the café comes into view, you spot the giant bear hobbling about, playing around with the group of kids. You immediately break out into a bright smile, a sense of relief washing over you. At the very least, he’s still here, like he said he’d be.

You bring up the bag of carp bread – will Donghyuck like this?

Donghyuck smiles at the adorable children who are rushing to cuddle him. He isn’t sure of the exact time, but he can tell that more than half of the day has gone by, and there is still no sign of you. He’s beginning to think that maybe he shouldn’t have been so naïve in the first place, gullible enough to think that a random stranger would actually come all the way back to the island just to meet with him again.

Heck, he’s in a bear suit. Nobody’s ever going to like a person that’s in a bear suit.

“Look here,” a mother coos, holding up her camera. Donghyuck bends down beside the child, holding him close as the mother begins to snap numerous shots of her baby son. “Thank you,” the mother says, reaching for her child as she presses a loving kiss to his forehead, gushing as she whispers praises to her little boy. Donghyuck has a pursed smile on his face; must be nice for that kid.

Donghyuck isn’t given the chance to dwell on the topic because a rush of kids come by, screaming and yelling excitedly at the sight of the bear. He joins in, chasing the kids around, and that is when he spots the one person he’s been waiting for (a whole year).

You’re standing there, a bag in hand. He isn’t even able to control the smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey!” a child shouts, tugging at Donghyuck’s bear leg.

You bring the bag of carp bread back to your side, smiling widely as you make your way towards the bear. As though working in your favour, the kids begin to clear just as you approach your friend. You give a small wave, your heartbeat picking pace in fear that he might not remember you. Just as quickly, though, your heartbeat slows when he returns the wave. He points at the wooden bench that you were seated on a year ago, and you get what he’s trying to say immediately.

You head over to the bench first, taking a seat as Donghyuck poses for a few more pictures with different children.

Once he’s done, he jogs over, stopping a small distance in front of you.

“Look what I brought!” you say excitedly, waving the bag in the air. “It’s carp bread, because bears eat fish,” you giggle. You thought you were really witty to have thought of such an idea.

Donghyuck chuckles. Now it’s his turn to feel nervous, because he’s going to have to remove his bear suit to reveal himself, like he promised.

“Are you going to change out of that?” you ask, looking on with anticipation.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

You wait patiently for the boy to return. He does, within five minutes. He tries to soothe his hair down as he approaches you, moistening his lips with his saliva, tugging at the end of his hoodie to make sure he looks decently presentable.

You look up, meeting eyes with a tanned skin, lean-looking boy, who is making his way towards you. You raise both brows – is that Donghyuck?

Sure enough, the boy stops just in front of you, scratching the back of his head in an attempt to let out his nerves. He smiles shyly, formally introducing, “Hi. I’m the boy in the bear suit.”

Your encouraging smile calms Donghyuck’s active nerves. He looks at you in the eyes, the same feeling of attraction he had felt a year ago, still evidently present a year later. He wonders if you feel it too.

“You know, you kind of look like a bear,” you comment, eyeing Donghyuck up and down. He rolls his eyes in response, scrunching his nose, “I don’t.”

“Here,” you say, holding out the bag of carp bread. “Eat your fish.”

Donghyuck scoffs, feigning offence, before taking the bag from you, and taking a seat on the bench, gesturing for you to sit beside him. He brings out a carp bread, splitting it down the middle. He hands you a half, and you take it graciously, biting a chunk off. “So how has your year been?” you start off, still in a little bit of disbelief that this is how Lee Donghyuck looks like.

For a whole year, the only image you’ve had of him, was the brown bear suit, with the sunflower badge. Even when you tried to imagine what he looks like under the mask; you’ve never came to the visual image of the being before you. He’s good looking, obviously, and by that, you mean that he’s way better looking than you had imagined him to be. There’s something that’s just really cute about his small little button nose, his doe eyes, and his round face.

“What you said was true,” he says, swallowing. “2017-me would’ve never been able to guess where I’d be a year later,” he continues, “I’m learning how to dance.”

You smile in pleasure, “I’m so happy to hear that.”

Donghyuck returns the smile. “What did you do for the past year?”

“I saved,” you say, smiling proudly. “I saved enough for now, so if I keep the momentum going, I’d have enough for university, too.”

“Then I guess it’s mandatory for me to tell you that you’re doing a great job,” he commends.

You feel something stirring in your heart. You’ve never been told that before. It feels funny, now that you’ve heard it. Donghyuck notices the change in your expression, and somehow, he knows the reason why.

“You can always come to me to brag and show off,” he says, tone gentle and encouraging. “I’ll always tell you how you’re doing a good job.”

You look at Donghyuck, meeting his eyes. He’s sending you signals of comfort through his gaze, and you’re receiving them well. Somehow, it’s only the second time you’re having a conversation with him, and it’s the first where you’re looking at the actual him. Yet, it feels as though he’s impacted your life even more than the people who’ve been in it for way more than he has.

“Want to know a secret?” you ask. Donghyuck nods his head.

“Back when I was younger, I was walking beside a classmate in school. We were about to go down the stairs, but she tripped on her own shoelace. She rolled down the stairs, and laid unconscious,” you recall, letting out a deep sigh at the end. Donghyuck looks at you with a brow raised, “And?” he prompts, urging you to continue.

“You’d think my first reaction would be pure concern for that classmate,” you say, focusing on the dead leaves that decorate the ground. You kick at a maple leaf, “But it wasn’t. When I saw the way everyone rushed forward, all attention on her, I thought to myself, ‘why wasn’t I the one who rolled down the stairs?’,” you take a pause, turning to read Donghyuck’s expression. He doesn’t seem to have any real thoughts about what you said.

“Twisted, right?” you end off with a pursed smile.

“No,” he states, taking another bite of his carp bread, completely unfazed.

“No?” you repeat.

“No,” he reiterates.

“Why not?” you question.

“Because,” he says, “It’s not abnormal to think that way.”

“You don’t have to side with me just because we are friends, you know?”

“I’m not. I just think that it isn’t crazy weird why you thought that way.” He says, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s kind of like how it is in my dance class. There’s this guy, his name is Jisung. He’s younger by two years, but his talent is more than double of mine. He gets a lot of love and attention for being the youngest of the team, and for being the talent that he is. Sometimes, when I see the way he gets praised for executing a move really well, I’d think to myself, ‘why wasn’t I the one being praised? I thought I did the move pretty well’.”

You chuckle at his kind attempt to try to make it seem as though what you had thought at the time was normal, though the circumstances are obviously far from being similar. Donghyuck is sweet, to say the least.

“I’m sure you dance well,” you say, eyeing his long legs, “You look like you’d dance well,” you correct.

“I’m serious about what I said though,” he says, reverting the topic, referring to how he’d be willing to listen to you brag any time.

“I might just take you up on the offer,” you reply, “As long as it remains valid, for a long, long time.”

“Are you trying to tell me to stay in contact with you?” he questions.

“You mean you didn’t intend to?” you raise a brow.

“You’d know where to find me when you need me, but I can’t say the same for myself for when I want to see you,” Donghyuck says, looking at you expectantly. Can you take that as a confession? Did he just say that he wants to see you?

Then again, so what if it is a confession?

You’re well aware of how you feel about the boy. You know that there’s a connection. You know that sparks are flying. You know. You know it all too well. But how can you be sure that Donghyuck is meant to be something more? You met him under circumstances that most wouldn’t even consider normal, and it’s barely the second time you’re talking to him. How can you be so sure, that he’s supposed to mean something more to you? How can you be sure that you’re only feeling this way, that you’re only feeling the butterflies and the somersaults inside you, because you’re truly attracted to him, and not because of how he makes you feel?

He makes you feel understood. That’s unfamiliar to you.

“Please,” you begin, in an attempt to try to brush off what he had said. “I kind of like that we see each other once a year.”

Donghyuck feels a light sting in his heart. “Why?” he asks.

“It makes our friendship special. How many people can say that they know of someone, who becomes their friend, on only one day out of the entire year?”

Donghyuck fakes a smile, “So you’ll be back in a year?”

“Yes.”

Donghyuck nods his head. Maybe he should just be happy that this means he’ll get to see you, at least another time, a year from now.

He shouldn’t be too greedy, right?

September 19, 2019.

It’s the third time that you’re going to be meeting Donghyuck. You’re starting to kind of understand what people mean by ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’. Oddly enough, in the past year, Donghyuck wasn’t just a passing thought like he was in 2018. This year, he was quite a prominent thought. Sometimes, you’d even have sleepless nights, spent tossing and turning, just thinking about him. You’ve even gotten the urge to just go online to search for him, but there are so many Lee Donghyucks in the world, that you weren’t sure if you’d be able to find the exact one. It would also be a breach of your friendship terms, since the both of you are supposed to only rekindle every September 19th.

Today, you managed to take the full day off. You check your watch – it’s 10:47AM. Why have you arrived at Nami island at such an early hour? Knowing fully well that Donghyuck has a shift to fulfil?

Simple.

You miss him. A lot more than you’d like to admit.

Sounds silly, you’re obviously aware. How can you develop feelings for someone that you only see once a year, and that you barely know?

You’d like to think it’s just because of how curious you are as a person, which results in constantly being curious about Donghyuck. But again, that’s just you trying to talk yourself into denial. No matter what you say, you can’t deny that you’ve debated over fifty times about coming to Nami island before the 19th of September, knowing fully well, that he’d be here.

But every time you were about to purchase the ferry ticket, you’d stop yourself.

A year may have gone by, but the same worry still remains.

How can you be sure, that his presence in your life, is meant to be something more?

“Hey!”

Your attention snaps up to the familiar voice, the voice you’ve only been able to think of for the past year.

“Donghyuck?” you murmur. He isn’t in his bear suit today.

He dons a bright smile, jogging over towards you. “We must have more telepathy than we’re aware of,” he comments, chuckling to himself. You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as you ask, “You’re not working today?”

“I took the day off,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d actually come this early, though.”

“And what if I didn’t?”

“I would’ve sat at that wooden bench until you showed up.”

His non-hesitance as he said that elicits a feeling of warmth to spread through your entire body. Donghyuck really makes you feel things, huh?

“You’d do that?” you ask, just so you can hear it loud and clear. Donghyuck smiles, nodding his head. “You would’ve done the same. Otherwise, what did you intend to do while waiting for me to end my shift if I were working today?”

Your smile only widens.

“What do you have planned for the day?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he replies.

“Shall we find somewhere to sit and eat then?” you suggest.

So five hours later, you’re seated opposite Donghyuck, empty plates and half-empty cups between the both of you. He has his arms propped on the table, listening intently to whatever you had to say. Conversation is easy when it comes to Donghyuck. He shows you that he’s listening. He makes sure to pay attention to what you say.

You feel the connection growing by the minute.

“That doesn’t justify why you’ve never dated anyone before,” he says, shaking his head disapprovingly as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Says you,” you retort, “But I’m sure if I showed my co-worker a picture of you, she’d go crazy.”

Donghyuck chuckles, “You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not!” you defend, trying to put on the most serious expression you can possibly make. “She’s cute too. Come to think of it, she’s totally your type.”

Donghyuck furrows his brows. “What makes you think I’m into cute?”

You smile, rolling your eyes. “Okay, then what is your type?”

“Shouldn’t you know best?”

Silence.

Donghyuck’s just staring into your eyes.

Your heart is thumping so hard, so fast, you’re starting to lose feeling in your hands and legs.

You let out an awkward laugh – there’s no denying it this time. It’s definitely a confession.

“Very funny,” you say, trying to change the topic. “I have to leave already, I’m working a full-day shift tomorrow and I’m in charge of opening,” you say, getting up from your seat. Donghyuck follows after, allowing you to lead the way out of the eatery.

“Hey,” Donghyuck calls, taking your wrist in his warm hold, turning you around to face him. “Don’t you think it’s about time to tell me where you work? Or where I can locate you? Or your number, at the very least?”

You’re looking into Donghyuck’s eyes, and you can see the sincerity. Like him, you want this to be something more. But you can’t just turn a blind eye and rid the fact that you’re just not sure of what might happen in the future, and that’s what scares you. You don’t want to commit to something, at the expense of knowing all too well, that you might get hurt. What if Donghyuck was never meant to be a part of your life? You’ve seen it in the movies – when you let someone in, and they weren’t supposed to be in to begin with, it only ends in tears and sorrow.

“Look, Donghyuck,” you begin, trying your best to think of a way to get your point across accurately.

“What makes you so sure that we’re meant to be something more?” you ask.

Donghyuck’s brow twitches, a sign that he’s taken aback by your question.

“See? You don’t know it yourself. What if we commit, and it just bites us in the back?”

Donghyuck runs a hand through his hair, “How would you know that?” he counters, “What if it doesn’t?”

The both of you just stand there, looking into each other’s eyes, trying to find the answer you’re both looking for.

“I believe in fate,” you say, breaking the eye contact. “On September 19, a year from now, I’ll be working at the café,” you continue, eyes finding its way to meet Donghyuck’s once more. “It’s located in Seoul. If, on that day, on the 19th of September, 2020, you’re able to somehow find me, I’ll take it as the sign that you and I are meant to be something more.”

Donghyuck furrows his brows at your proposition, “But Seoul is so big, how am I supposed to-”

“If you can’t find me, it just means that’s the end of our connection,” you cut in. “And you can’t cheat. You can only start looking on September 19.”

Donghyuck thinks it’s the end. He doesn’t think it’s possible. But if he wants this enough, he’s going to have to try.

“Promise?” you ask, putting out your pinkie finger.

“I promise,” he says, hooking his finger with yours, pressing your thumbs together.

What’s going to happen a year from now?

September 19, 2020.

“Here you go, enjoy your drink,” you greet, passing the iced americano to the man in the suit. He tilts his head in gratitude, before scurrying out the door. You take a moment to stare at the door, it’s going to be afternoon soon, and there’s still no sign of Donghyuck. You wonder if he’s even taken up the challenge, and is actually going about Seoul right now.

“Why do you keep staring at the door today? Are you waiting for someone?” Eunha, your co-worker, asks. You shake your head, shrugging, “I just can’t wait to knock off, that’s all,” you lie. Eunha furrows her brows teasingly, leaning in close as she says, “Please, I’ve worked with you for years now. That isn’t your ‘I-can’t-wait-to-knock-off’ look,” she says, pulling back.

You roll your eyes, hitting her on the arm lightly, before re-busying yourself with preparing the orders of the customers.

Another few hours go by, and now, the sun is beginning to set.

“You’re staring at the door again,” Eunha lilts, a teasing smile on her face as she sips at her coffee. “Stop, I’m really just excited to knock off soon,” you say.

“If you want to knock off so bad, you can knock off now,” she says, placing her coffee down on the counter. “I’m cool with closing on my own tonight.” She blinks her big eyes a few times, smiling teasingly, knowing that you’d deny her offer.

“I can’t do that to you,” you say, laughing awkwardly, “Think about all the times you sacrificed your nights staying with me for closing. I ought to return the favour.”

“Ought?” Eunha repeats, giggling to herself. “You’re definitely hiding something.”

You roll your eyes, moving on to do the dishes to avoid slipping up any further.

Donghyuck sighs, coming out of the eighth café he’s looked into today. As expected, this is basically mission impossible. How is he supposed to be able to find you, when you didn’t even bother with giving him any clue aside from that it’s located in Seoul?

He looks around, trying to spot any other cafés that might be in the area, before he’d move on to the next.

There’s still a good few hours before the end of September 19.

He might still have a chance.

You bite down on your lip. It’s five minutes to closing.

“I guess we weren’t meant to be,” you murmur, eyes refusing to leave the doors.

“Whoever it is you’re waiting for, they’ll show up,” Eunha chimes in, continuing to wipe down the counter.

“What makes you so sure?” you ask.

“Because it’s my first time seeing you anticipate something like that,” she says. Eunha might not be someone you contact outside of work, so it’s easy to forget how well she knows you. But Eunha is right. You've never anticipated anything this much.

“I hope you’re right,” you say, pursing your lips.

You didn’t know it a year ago when you made the proposition, but you know it now.

You really want to see Lee Donghyuck walking through those doors.

But as the time slowly dwindles away, you can’t be sure that it isn’t just your own wishful thinking.

Donghyuck kicks at the pavement, running a hand through his hair. The day is almost over, and still, no luck. He has been to eighteen different cafés already, and there’s just no sign of you.

If only he didn’t have to work the morning shift, then he’d have more time to actually look in more cafés.

He stops a short distance in front of the nineteenth café. He isn’t usually one to believe in anything like fate, but he’s desperate at this point. He looks to the sky, clasping his hands together, “Please. Make 19 our special number. Please let y/n be in this café.”

Taking in a deep breath, Donghyuck walks forward, towards the café.

Eunha checks the time, then looks over at you. You're sitting there, dazed, expression blank. She purses her lips in sympathy, calling out, “Do you want me to lock the doors or wait another f-”

Eunha is cut off when the bell chimes. You immediately turn towards the entrance of the café.

It's Donghyuck.

Oh gosh, it's actually Donghyuck.

Donghyuck makes eye contact with you. A sense of accomplishment and warmth overwhelms him. You feel your nose stinging, and your heart swelling.

“Sorry, we’re cl-”

You don’t know what comes over you, but you run forward. You throw yourself into Donghyuck’s arms, hugging him tight.

“Okay then, I’ll be over there,” Eunha says, excusing herself.

You pull away.

“You found me,” you sniff, grinning wide.

“I promised I would,” Donghyuck replies, reflecting your expression.

“I guess we are really meant for something more,” you mumble, taking in the moment.

“So,” Donghyuck says, holding out his phone. “Can I finally have your number?”

#nct scenarios #haechan scenarios #haechan fluff #haechan #nct fluff #nct imagines #haechan imagines #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct haechan #fic #fic: september 19

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

handmaid - 36

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: the next chapter is gonna be the last one and i think i’m gonna need therapy. hope you enjoy this chapter x

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N was dressed in a baby pink and white tweed two piece, her almond white heel hitting the ground as she looked around the same halls she used to run as a child. Yet, this time everything seemed a bit more somber, the red of the walls seemed to almost swallow her in her own mind. Everything seemed a blur to her, from Dan showing up at the house with most of Mr. Forrest’s men to Sebastian being taken away. She wasn’t sure how long it had been, all she knew was that she had been moved around by Dan and several other associates from place to place until she had finally been placed in her old bedroom of her childhood home. However, the home no longer felt like home and as she waited outside Mr. Forrest’s office, fingers picking at the fabric of the very expensive skirt which for the first time seemed to fit her like a second skin.

The door opened and one of the maids gave her a kind smile before pulling the door completely open. She stood up on her heels, wondering what awaited her behind the threshold into the office of the man she had just discovered was her father. Not that it was a completely bad new, Mr. Forrest had never been anything other than kind to her but it was odd. It was odd that the father she always wished would be around during Father’s day, who would come to see her recitals had always been there but at the same time it wasn’t. He had always been in the crowd, unbeknownst to her and as she stepped inside his office and looked at the man she had seen ever since was little standing up, staring at her as if she would disappear at any minute, she wondered how she felt. Between Sebastian and being moved around like a lost package hadn’t given her enough time to even consider how she felt about her actual parentage. The young just turned heiress wasn’t sure how she felt about actually having one parent alive yet being somehow the reason as to why her mother wasn’t around anymore.

- I know you probably have several questions, Y/N. - his voice trembled, almost in fear of what his daughter had pent up inside of her. - If you allowed me, I would like to explain it to you what really happened.

- I guess. - her hands held the top of the chair, not sure if she should sit or not.

- I really loved your mother. I met her at the Opera, I swear I can still hear her voice in the quiet of the night ... I nicknamed her Robin, gave her the necklace you’re wearing. She loved you so much, she painted your nursery herself, spent hours and hours deciding on a name before finally sticking with Ella and would constantly read you her favourite books even before you were born. We were so ready to have you but after your mother I just, I just couldn’t let anything bad happen to you. I thought many times about placing you with some of my associates but then they put you in my arms and I saw your mother’s eyes on you, how tiny you were, I just couldn’t let you go. I do realise it was selfish of me and I know you probably will never forgive me for lying all these years but all I did was to protect you ... Not that it worked very well in the end.

Y/N just starred at the powerful man in front of her lay it all down. Maybe it was her curse to get powerful man at their most vulnerable yet Y/N just couldn’t be mad. She knew she should be mad, she should be mad that all this time she had a father, she had a completely different name in her mother’s eyes without even mentioning being in the shadow. Yet, she couldn’t be mad, when she looked at him all she saw was a man who had lost the woman he loved and the opportunity of having a daughter, or at least having her the way everyone ordinarily had one.

She sighed, a faint smile pulling at the corner of her lips as she walked closer to the old man, wrapping her arms around him. What use was it be mad? They had both lost something, something important and while Y/N had lost her mother, he had lost the woman he loved. As much love Y/N held for the mother she never knew, her father had lost the woman he had loved and the opportunity to have an ordinary lifestyle. She was in no place to be mad at someone who had lost so much.

- I forgive you. - she took a step back, her eyes slightly glancing to the little robin attached to the golden chain.

- We should get some dinner. I would love to show you some photos from when your mother was pregnant.

- I would love to but I’m afraid I have to check on someone. - Y/N wasn’t entirely sure if she should mention her relationship with Sebastian. She had mostly begged Daniel not to mention it and while Gwen had jetted off the moment she didn’t have to get married anymore, she was wise enough not to drop it on her newly found father that she was not only in a relationship with the man who was supposed to marry Gwen just a few weeks ago but also pregnant. Either way, she wanted to go check on Sebastian. No matter how much she asked, no one would tell her anything and her phone had been removed right when they both were rescued from Mr. Williams. - Maybe later on?

- Make sure you take Daniel with you. - Y/N nodded as one of the employees escorted her outside the study and back to the hallway where Dan was. She gave him a playful smile before walking up to whom she guessed she now had to call her step-brother, not that he hadn’t act like one since she was a little girl.

- Tweed? Starting to dress like an heiress, Y/N?

- One of the maids left it in my bedroom. - she twisted her foot slightly behind her, a bit of heat climbing up to his cheeks. - Mr. Forrest, I mean, my father said I need to take you if I wanna go somewhere.

- It’s okay, he only told me he was his father when I was 10. You get used to it eventually.

- How do you get used to suddenly becoming first in line to owning ... - she motioned around her. - All of this.

- I’m sure you can ask Sebastian for help. - his words made her stop on her tracks, a furrowed eyebrow at his statement before Daniel took a file from under his shirt. - I had my suspicions but after he was ready to sign off his place in the mob for you ... well, didn’t take long to puzzle it out.

- Did you tell anyone? - she grabbed the file away from him, not wanting anyone to hold it and mostly because she wished to destroy it or give it to Sebastian.

- I don’t think Gwen would be too interested in it considering she went on holiday with one of his bodyguards the moment she got told the wedding was off. Besides, if someone is to tell our father about it, it certainly won’t be me.

- I thought you hated Sebastian. I’m sure you called them standoffish and murderous.

- I still dislike him but ... you like him and considering you’re gonna be my boss someday, I don’t think I should really go against what you want.

Y/N merely chuckled at him as both of them got into the car and, following a bit of banter discussing if it was the best idea to go visit Sebastian or not, started to drive up to the Upper East Side. Sebastian hadn’t been taken to the hospital despite most of Y/N’s complaining, whenever she did all Dan would say ‘we don’t want the police in our business’ so all she could think about was if he was alright and recovering just fine. It wasn’t like someone would harm her if she made a call, however Dan and the other associates were firm on keeping Y/N as isolated as possible for the very first weeks.

Maybe it had been for the best, she had spent the two weeks feeling sick or very tired and weirdly enough, only a few days ago had she been able to get up without feeling like a goblin. However, she sure hoped he was alright and as his apartment because visible, her heart soared. It wasn’t like Sebastian had tried to contact her either, maybe he didn’t want to see her. After all, she was the reason he had three bullet holes in his body. As Dan parked in front of the building, her heart beat faster.

- I’ll wait for you here. - Dan took her off her mindset. - Be safe, okay?

- I will. - Y/N climbed off the car, scarily walking over to the door which was opened by the doorman with a smile on his face. She entered the very familiar lift, looking at the light buttons on the switch panel until the penthouse was reached. The doors opened horizontally and the once familiar house felt cold. Maybe it was because there just wasn’t so much staff running around. Actually, she could only spot a few bodyguards and overall staff before Amelia came strutting her way.

- Miss Y/N, I was so worried. When you didn’t come back with Mr. Sebastian. Thank god you’re alright, you look so good.

- Yeah, they’ve been moving me around for a few weeks. Do you reckon I could see Sebastian?

- He’s been in his room for a few weeks, doctor’s orders. I told him to go the hospital but the police rule. - she started to walk up the stairs with Y/N right behind her until she led her to Sebastian’s room. - You let me know if you need anything.

Y/N took a deep breathe, trying to shoo away all of the negative thoughts she had within her mind before pulling on the door handle, pushing the door open to see Sebastian laid down in bed surrounded by several papers, most likely contracts, with his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. She leaned against the wood of the door lining, her eyes calmly set on his tense forehead as he went through each paper faster than a computer, writing what looked like unreadable calligraphy. He was the one to notice her first, taking his glasses off as a soft smile appeared on his face.

- Didn’t think your father would let you near me any time soon. - he spoke out, voice slightly raspy as if he hadn’t caught a wink of sleep in the past weeks. Y/N merely rolled her eyes at his statement, walking up to his bed and taking a seat in a spot free of papers. - Are you alright?

- I should be asking you that. - her hand creeped up to his, her fingers shyly touching his. - You should’ve gone to the hospital, Sebastian.

- Just bullet wounds, angel, nothing new.

- I thought I lost you, Sebastian. You didn’t try to reach out to me for two weeks, I was worried. - she bite down onto her lip, afraid her emotions would get the best of her. Sebastian noticed this, pushing the contracts away from his lap before his hands wrapped around her waist, pushing her closer to him despite the lingering pain of the gun shot wounds still present but he didn’t care.

- Angel, I thought you were gonna die and it was my fault. I promised nothing bad would happen to you and that ... that despicable rat had you chained to the ground .. the things he said he would do to you and if he had done it it would’ve been my fault.

- Sebastian, it’s not your fault. - her hand raised to caress his jaw. - You couldn’t have done anything, whatever he wanted ... it goes way past me and you.

- I allowed him to be near you and I let you be alone at the hotel ... I should’ve just ran off with you, I should’ve just ... I should’ve just told you I loved you when I had the shot, we could’ve jus ...

- It’s no good to live in the past, Seb. You’re okay, I’m okay, we’re fine. Whatever happened, let’s just forget it. - she took the documents from her purse handing it to him. - I thought you should have those. I don’t think it would be very safe for those papers to be wandering around. I can’t believe you would give it all up for me.

- I would do anything for you. - he leaned his head against her shoulder. - How is the baby?

- Baby’s fine, probably got tired of making me feel miserable all the time. - she made herself comfortable in his bed. - How do you feel about it? The baby, I mean.

- I would’ve rather heard about it in a less stressing situation but I just can’t really believe it. Somewhere in my life I must’ve done something good, I must’ve done something good because I really don’t deserve you much less a family with you.

- I don’t really think it’s about deserving, it’s just ... maybe fated considering I was supposed to marry you all along.

- That is a contract marriage I can’t really complain about.

- From now on, let it just be the two of us. Nothing else, no more Gwen, no more lost parents, just ... an ordinary family.

- I’d like that.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @nikkipea @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld @captainchrisstan @lookiamtrying @sarge-barnes-sir @stuffforreferences @thebadassbitchqueen @sebastianstansqueen @nsfwsebbie @strangerliaa @emzd34 @everything-is-awesomesauce @dreams-in-blxck @krismeunicornbaobei @buckysteveloki-me

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan drabble #sebastian stan fanfic #mob boss!sebastian stan #mob!sebastian stan #mobster!sebastian stan #mafia!sebastian stan #mafia boss!sebastian stan

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justasparkwritings · 3 years

Text

Merry & Bright {23}: I Promise

Previous: Golden Days

Pairing: OT7 x Respective Partners

Genre: Fluff with Light Holiday Angst

Rating: PG-13

Warning: Swearing

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Days before Christmas, Bangtan find themselves stranded at the airport.

youtube

“Are you fucking serious?” Namjoon’s voice is low, hushed in the slightly crowded airport lounge.

“When is the next flight?” Yoongi asks, glare staring at the airport attendant in front of him. Taehyung stands next to him, bag resting gently on the floor, cellphone in hand.

In seats across the way, Jimin and Hoseok sit, thumbs moving hastily as they text. Seokjin, sits with their managers, discussing solutions, and Jungkook is by the window, phone to his ear, disappointment in his posture.

“I know, I know,” Jungkook says, voice weary. “I’m trying jagi, I am.”

It’s the sound of Namjoon’s hand slamming against the wall that brings them all together, moving into a private room in the lounge, seated staring at one another.

“We were supposed to be home by now,” Hoseok says, frustration deep in the stoop of his eyebrows.

“I know,” Namjoon answers.

“It’s our first married Christmas,” Jungkook adds, stuffing his tattooed covered hands in the pocket of his sweats.

“It’s my child’s first Christmas!” Taehyung declares, aghast that anyone was missing anything nearly as important as him.

“I was supposed to take the kids for Christmas photos,” Namjoon says.

Yoongi’s voice is low, a prayer no one will hear, but a hope they will. “I was going to propose.”

“What?” Hoseok yells, nearly knocking Jimin off his perch.

Taehyung turns to his Hyung. “Why are we just hearing about this?”

“Do you have a ring?” Namjoon wonders.

“You’re involved with someone?” Jimin pokes. Yoongi glares at him, knowing full well Jimin knows the answer.

“On Christmas Eve, while we opened presents. Had it all planned for months, the ring is wrapped, it’s sitting under the fucking tree,” Yoongi explains.

“Won’t she notice a ring box?” Jimin asks.

“No, I put it in a larger box,” Yoongi’s humoring him, and Jimin knows.

“A box inside a box?” Jungkook laughs.

“Sort of,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Damn, how many years has it been?” Seokjin asks.

“Five,” Yoongi recounts each anniversary in his mind. The first one, spent on different continents during tour, the second, when they’d flown to New York for press, the third, when you’d gone to Paris, the fourth, when he’d finally convinced you to move to Korea half time, and the fifth, when you’d discussed marriage.

“Service time counts,” Hoseok adds.

“Fine, seven,” Yoongi tells them. Technically, years four and five were shared in your hearts only, Yoongi being a desk jockey in the military, but you counted them, nonetheless.

Jimin cackles “Wow, never imagined Yoongi-ah would settle down,”

“Who would’ve thought?” Namjoon chuckles, staring at his elder.

“You all are trash,” Yoongi says. “None of you are invited to the wedding.”

“How do you know she’ll say yes?” Taehyung asks, eyes wandering around the sterile lounge. It’s all marble and metal, cold and contemporary, Christmas wreaths hung periodically and poinsettias on all the tables. The only warmth coming from the men, all ganging up on their favorite member.

“I know,” Yoongi confirms.

“But how, are you psychic?” Seokjin wonders.

“No, she told me,” Yoongi tells him.

“She told you?” Seokjin asks, eyes wide.

“This isn’t any of your business,” Yoongi scolds, cheeks puffed as he smiles.

“Alright, alright,” Jin resides.

“Tae, what are you plans for baby’s first Christmas?” Yoongi asks, deflecting.

“And baby’s first birthday,” Namjoon adds.

“He’s so cute, oh my gosh, he just teeters on his little feet, trying to walk. He’s taken a few steps, but he only likes walking if you hold his tiny little hands,” Taehyung gushes, opening the photos on his phone to show them.

“We’ve seen the videos,” Namjoon laughs, looking again at the numerous photos Taehyung has of his son, not mentioning that he’s seen them all, in an email, that Taehyung sent one day during nap time.

“Don’t act like we haven’t seen a million from you,” Jimin says elbowing Namjoon. “You’re just as shameless.”

“You just have more kids, so it seems less obnoxious,” Yoongi says.

“Two for the price of one!” Seokjin laughs.

“Don’t think we don’t have the same reaction to yours,” Hoseok laughs at Jin. “You might be the worst out of you three.”

Pointing at him, finger dagger like, Namjoon warns, “Oh, just you wait, Hope, it’s coming for you too.”

Taehyung looks from member to member, wondering aloud, “Who will have kids next?”

“Jungkook,” Jimin blurts. His eyes go wide, and he turns to the maknae.

“Or J Hope,” Jungkook says, his deflection evident in the blush on his cheeks.

“No, no, Jungkook, why are you blushing?” Namjoon asks.

“No reason just wasn’t paying attention,” Jungkook tries to brush it off, but Namjoon’s got him.

“Is she pregnant?” Hoseok asks, eyes wide.

“I, maybe, I don’t know,” Jungkook tries to burrow himself into his sweatsuit, beanie pulled lower and lower over his face.

“Holy shit!” Yoongi exclaims, glancing to make sure no one else has heard his expletive.

“Are you surprised the golden maknae is procreating before you?” Seokjin asks glancing at Yoongi.

“No, I’m not surprised at all, my money was on Jungkook,” Yoongi says still smiling.

“It’s, it’s too soon to tell anyone, we’ve only told our parents,” Jungkook’s cheeks continue to cherry, blossoming across his cheekbones, knowing full well he’s going to be in trouble when his wife finds out he squealed.

“Ah, discretion,” Seokjin nods. “We’ll pretend we’re not excited for you.”

“Hobi, what about you?” Jimin turns the attention to someone else, feeling guilty about spoiling Jungkook’s news.

“Ah, kids are a few years off for us,” Ho-Seok nods, twirling the wedding band on his finger. “Jiminie, what about you?”

“Me?” Jimin asks pointing to himself.

“You started this nonsense,” Namjoon reminds him.

“I, no, no babies, no engagement,” Jimin shakes his head.

“Why not?” Taehyung asks. “You’ve been talking about it for a while.”

“Yeah, but talking and following through are two different things,” Jimin says. They all nod, knowing Jimin was going to get engaged shortly after Yoongi. Taehyung found it surprising, but not wholly out of character for Jimin to wait for his Hyung to propose first. It was odd, though, everyone had always bet Jimin would get married shortly after Jungkook, while Yoongi would remain the last man standing.

“I can’t believe we’re stuck here,” Jungkook says again, glancing at the window. “Isn’t this why we stopped traveling before Christmas?”

Six years ago, when Namjoon had welcomed his first child, the band decided they would never travel over Christmas again, refusing to part from their growing families. They turned down any work outside the city, including New Years. If some program wanted them, they either wanted their entire blossoming families or they wouldn’t have BTS at all. It was a hard and fast rule, which in the six years since Namjoon became a father, they hadn’t broken.

Tonight, stranded in an airport in a place none of them could recognize, at least 1000 miles away, they were regretting agreeing to perform for the KBS special anywhere other than Seoul, or within two hours drive from their homes.

So, they sit, December 23rd, unconvinced they were going to be home by Christmas Eve, unsure if they were going to be home by Christmas.

“I would walk home,” Hoseok says, sinking in his chair.

“I would run,” Jimin counters.

“I’d cross the deserts,” Jungkook says.

“And the oceans,” Taehyung adds.

“A fucking frozen tundra,” Yoongi states.

“If only there was a guiding light, a star, leading us home,” Namjoon says.

Seokjin sighs, frustration and thoughtfulness in one breath. “She does so much for us, for our family, and here I am, sitting in a luxurious airport, while she’s home with the kids.”

“She hasn’t even hung the Christmas lights, we were going to decorate the tree together,” Yoongi says. “You know how much she loves Christmas.”

“I feel like we should go into the gift shops and buy something,” Hoseok suggests.

“What are we going to find?” Jungkook wonders.

“Wine,” Namjoon says.

“Candy,” Jungkook suggests.

“Oo, candy,” Hoseok laughs, his first laugh in the last few hours.

Namjoon, still lamenting, “She does everything, she’s the glue of our whole family.”

“Maybe we’ll go on vacation, somewhere warm,” Seokjin ponders.

“We should take a big family vacation!” Taehyung suggests.

“No,” Yoongi shuts it down.

Hoseok stares at Yoongi, reading the anxiety in his eyes over the suggestion. “It could be fun!”

Yoongi stares him down, countering his offer. “How about those who have kids go on one vacation, and those without go on their own,”

“Why are you being so difficult?” Seokjin asks.

“I’m tired, my proposal is going to shit, and I’m missing decorating my home with my future wife,” Yoongi lists.

“I can’t believe they have no hotel rooms anywhere near by,” Hoseok wonders.

“Maybe if we wish upon a star we’ll make it home by tomorrow,” Jungkook suggests.

“This is the first Christmas we’ve spent just us, just us seven, in what, a decade?” Taehyung inquires, looking at each of his brothers.

“Since we all came back from service,” Namjoon answers.

Agreeing, Hoseok speaks. “We should honor that,”

“We’ll be with our families as soon as we can,” Jimin concedes.

“Life goes on,” Jungkook sings softly.

“We’ll be home by Christmas Eve, swear it,” Taehyung’s attempt at inspiring them is what they need.

“Should we go find food and treats?” Jungkook suggests.

“Absolutely,” Namjoon says.

“And any souvenirs we can find from this place,” Hoseok reminds them.

In a small gift shop, Yoongi and Jimin stare at the chip selection.

“You should propose whenever you want,” Yoongi says to Jimin.

“Thank you hyung,” Jimin wants to hug him, but refrains.

“I don’t want to steal your thunder, you’ve been planning longer than me, do it when it feels right,” Yoongi glances at Jimin, slightly taller than him, and smiles.

“Thank you,” Jimin smiles, grateful for the unnecessary permission.

As they gather back in the lounge, snacks and gummy worms plentiful on the newly cleaned airport table, the seven of them share laughs over silly things their kids have said and reminisce on the years they’ve spent together. Through it all, with the weight of uncertainty waning, they had a glimmer of hope, a little belief, that they’ll be home by Christmas Eve.

Next: Happy Anniversary

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cheezritsu · 4 years

Text

Haikyuu Couple Aesthetics (pt 2)

part one here!

Kageyama Tobio: couple workouts, linked pinkies, lingering touches, butterflies in your stomach even after years of knowing him, parting his sweaty bangs after a gruelling match, sitting in your lap during study sessions. The childhood friends couple; always attending his games, setting a separate ringtone for when he calls at 2 am from another country, his thumb caressing your cheek when he kisses you, walking home after practices with his face washed with sunset; tiny, barely there smiles meant for your eyes only; mundane tasks as dates, buying magazine covers with his face on them; knuckle kisses, massaging his tense muscles after long, grueling days; pressing your foreheads together, looking deep into his love filled eyes; always following your advice, wrapping his arms around your waist and breathing in your scent; recalling old memories with his grandfather, cooing over baby pictures, having each other as your phone background, being prideful for him, trophy husband jokes; standing up for him no matter what. Slow, unsure kisses, even after so many years; always saying “see you later” and never goodbye, soothing his worries with a hug, knowing what he means even when he’s quiet. You two are the star crossed lovers, never quite separated as long as you’re in love.

Hinata Shoyo: 8 hour phone calls, tan lines, bruised arms, giving Natsu advice like she’s your sister; the sunshine couple; constant encouragement, sitting on the back of his bike and going down hills, Marvel movie marathons, talking so much you forget to eat, reading Shonen jump together, him teaching you volleyball, showing up to all his matches; the number 10 proudly across your chest; brushing away his frustrated tears with the back of your hand; video calls with 12 hours between you two, spontaneous dates, convenience store slushies, being shown off to his friends, pinky promises, cheek kisses, running through the streets with intertwined hands, laughing maniacally; making any day an adventure, getting meat buns at 2am, sitting in the stands at practices, learning Brazilian recipes, smiling contently as he tells yet another story about Brazil; holding his face so gently he might cry, hugging him like he’ll vanish under your fingertips; never whispering “I love you,” only screaming it so everyone can hear. Proud smiles, even in hard times. You two are Icarus and the sun, your fierce love the one thing that keeps the wax from melting under your wings.

Azumane Asahi: braiding each others hair, linking pinkies, slightly mismatched appearances, long, ambling walks home while the sun sets; comforting whispers, spinning hugs, promise rings, the sweet couple; always having the right words, modeling his designs, long distance calls on Saturday nights, dried roses, brown sugar boba tea, framed couple photos, bubble baths, fingers tangled in each other’s hair, running errands as dates; sleeping in his tee shirts while he’s away, stealing glances at one another, shoulders always touching on train rides, still blushing whenever your hands brush, being his personal cheerleader, having a mailbox with both your names on it, at home haircuts, rainy day dates; softly kissing each other awake; candid photos, monthly anniversary gifts, a comforting touch always close at hand. You two are Orpheus and Eurydice, willing to plunge the depths of hell to stay together.

Iwaizumi Hajime: late night FaceTimes, learning to skateboard, insulting one another as a love language, stuttering out “I love yous”, couple workouts, being in each other’s profile pictures, bullying each other at any given moment, double dates, matching denim jackets, couple outfit of the day posts, melting into his arms, airport reunions, stealing his food during dates, the laid back couple; stealing his hoodies, long walks filled with easy conversation, having a dog as a child, being dubbed “Iwaizumi’s cool partner,” wherever you go; late night convenience store runs, sunrise hikes, arm wrestling competitions to win arguments, protective arms around your waist as you sleep, unironically calling him “Iwa-Chan”; cheesy Disneyland California couple photos, staying up with him as he studies for exams, rubbing the tension out of his shoulders, listening to his old Seijoh stories, being loved by Makki, Mattsun and Oikawa, resting a comforting hand on his chest, taking pictures of him in the background at sports events, taking pride in everything each other does. Not so much saying it love you,’ but seeing it. You two are the moon and the ocean; tidally locked with one another, and never wanting it any other way.

Ushijima Wakatoshi: taping his matches on tv, wearing his coats when he’s away, champagne flutes, fancy dinner parties, the classy couple; musky, dark cologne, tacky souvenirs from countries he’s visited, indoor plants everywhere, cooking breakfast together whenever possible, courtside seats at his games, peaceful silences, quiet vacations, fancy dinner dates, pearl necklaces, first class flights, monogrammed luggage, smiling at your shared last name, french manicures, laced hands, moonlit walks, promise rings, handwritten letters, traditional weddings, feather light kisses to your knuckles; listening to his voice to fall asleep, mindless touches, secret smiles, ironic heart emojis, learning each other’s love language, sitting in his lap while he watches matches, coming home together after long days apart, fluffy white robes, his and hers sinks, forehead kisses, patiences, evenings spent reminiscing with Shiratorizawa, never losing sight of what’s important: each other. Accepting him no matter what, squeezing his hand for reassurance, saying ‘goodbye’ just so you can say ‘hello’. You two are like wild ivy, growing and entangling in one other until you’ve become one.

Tendou Satori: watching anime until the sun comes up, taping his bruised fingers, singing his impromptu songs, cheering loudly for him at games, exchanging memes for hours, the silly couple; walking home with swinging intertwined hands, comic shop dates, playful banter, calling him “miracle boy” with a seriousness that makes him blush; bullying Goshiki, amusement park dates, stuffed animal presents, incoherent love notes, keeping pictures of you in his wallet, making chocolates in the dead of night, singing loudly in the shower, tickle fights, sneaking into his dorm when you can’t sleep, coming to his defense whenever, wherever; spit shakes, inside jokes, teasing whispers, learning tiktok dances, anime hoodies, cooing over his baby pictures, protective glares, shoulder touches, identical laughter, falling deeper in love with every passing second. You two are a hurricane; a force to be reckoned with with no intentions of stopping.

Bokuto Kotarou: Being Akaashi’s worst nightmare, screaming songs in the car together, throwing rocks at each others windows in the dark, laughing on the phone underneath blankets, kisses every time you see each other; the inseparable couple; always knowing when he needs a hug, playing with his hair, wearing his jersey to volleyball matches, spoiling him at any chance, staying in bed an extra five minutes, trying new restaurants every other day, getting lost in the city for hours, constant snapchats, good morning texts, surprise visits at work, piggy back rides, ice cream on summer days, friendship bracelets, comedy movies, Polaroid pictures, bear hugs, beach dates, sleeping with his head in the crook of your neck. Hands always touching, nose kisses, spikes dedicated to you, air kisses across crowded stadiums, posing for paparazzi, the entire world knowing your name because he can’t keep your name out of his mouth for ten seconds. You two are remnants of the same star, finding one another across space and time.

Semi Eita: dyed hair, eyebrow piercings, walls lined with guitars, dive bars, muffled singing from the shower, sake shots, world tours, chain necklaces, wearing his merchandise, karaoke dates, fishnet stockings, luxury hotels,the sexy couple; being his muse, velvet sofas, singing duets in the kitchen while making breakfast, dazzling smiles, having a makeshift recording studio in your living room, papers littered with song lyrics, starving artist budgets, breakthroughs at 4am, meeting his old teammates at concerts, silly audio recordings of meaningless conversations, “babe, listen to this!” the intimacy of sharing headphones, pressing kisses to his calloused fingertips, having more amps than furniture, spending hours in comfortable silence untangling his chords, the rush of listening to his new songs, constantly being on your toes, kisses that make your heart stop, being so proud of him. Long days spent slaving over work, his soft voice smooth like honey. Agonizing practices, staying by his side no matter what. You two are Bonnie and Clyd; absolute ride or dies through thick and thin.

Kozume Kenma: watching all his videos, popping by work to give him lunch, singing softly while doing laundry at his house, making out in his gaming chair, soft, the intuitive couple; teasing fingers up your thigh, expensive gifts, housewife jokes, blanket burritos, at home dates, Speedrunning videos games, botched apple pies, having delivery on speed dial, curling his hair behind his ear before kisses, cat cafes, Gucci sunglasses, jamming to video game soundtracks, DND game nights, being in the background of his live streams, owning cats like children, bingeing on convenience store snacks, horror movie marathons, making fun of Kuroo, carding your hands through his growing hair, quick, stolen kisses, feeling completely at home with one another; watching cartoons till one am, matching stickers on your Nintendo switches, animal crossing weddings, sharing scarves, waking up curled into each other with the afternoon sun through your blinds, genuine and ugly laughter; smiles so soft you think you’re imaging them, listening to him pour his heart out about a game that broke him; ever laughing at him, slowly slipping to sleep while he plays video games, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You two are video game protagonists, falling in love like the universe intended you to.

Suna Rintaro: Black sports cars, luxury apartments, Adidas track pants, fresh Nike sneakers, black and white everything; the aesthetic couple; matching outfits, silver rings, flashing lights, hazy bars, rolled blunts, hip hop beats rattling through your car speakers, late night texts, slow, languid kisses; rainy days, bedroom eyes, button down shirts, chipped nail polish, saying “bruh,” instead of “babe,” petty insults, wandering hands, dipping out of family reunions, noise complaints, throwing snacks into each other’s mouths, having your orders known at a restaurant, red solo cups, ash trays, house parties, spinning a record and listening to it for hours, laying on the floor with nothing to do; silk sheets, midnight drives, stupid jokes, lazy smiles, fist bumps, the inherent romanticism of not being romantic; bathroom selfies, upsetting the twins, always being one the same page, wilted flowers, tracing the outline of his lips before diving in for a kiss, trusting one another completely. You two are silver screen lovers, having the romance all teenagers would die to have.

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drmarc · 3 years

Text

one last dance

a jolex au oneshot inspired by one last dance by us the duo

so i am currently obsessed with us the duo’s song ‘one last dance’ and i had this idea that i wanted to write and i hurt myself again by writing this

it’s a really beautiful and painful song, and i suggest that you listen to it while you read this, God knows how much i cried (on the inside and the outside) while writing this

this is a small playlist i made with the songs i listened to while writing this and some of the songs that are mentioned in it

anyways, i hope you guys like it!

Hundreds of eyes in the room but yours found mine

I asked you to dance and by chance our hands intertwined

“Alex, just go ask her out please. It’s physically hurting me to see you pine over her like this, just go please.” Meredith pleads to her friend, sitting beside her. They’re at the reception for Miranda Bailey and Ben Warren’s wedding and the group of newly transferred residents are sitting two tables down from them, and one particular resident caught Alex’s eye the minute she walked in the hospital.

“I can’t, Mer! I told you, I’ve tried but I just, I don’t know what to say or do when I’m actually in front of her.” Alex sighs in frustration. It’s true, he gets all tongue-tied whenever he tries to ask her out and he just doesn’t know why. Cristina and Meredith share a look before turning their attention back to their sulking friend.

“Wow, Evil Spawn is having actual normal girl problems.” Cristina says, and Meredith laughs at her comment while Alex just glares at her before taking a swig of his beer. The two continue to tease Alex for a while before he gets up to order another beer.

“Another round for me.” He says and leans against the bar next to Richard Webber and Catherine Avery, who were also leaning against the bar. They stand up and start to go and mingle with others when Richard turns back around to face Alex and says,

“Just ask her to dance, Karev. You might just sweep her off her feet with that.” Richard nods at him with a smile on his face and turns back around to follow his wife. Alex stares at his back for a second before turning back around to sit on the stool next to him while his eyes immediately go to the brunette who’s currently laughing her ass off at something her friend said. He sighs and nods a thank you to the bartender after he places a glass of beer in front of him.

He tunes everything out and just stares off to nothing as he drinks his beer, he almost didn’t hear her ask the bartender for another round of whatever she and her friends are having. He turns his head to the side to look at her and stares for a minute. He thanks God she doesn’t notice him staring that close. He looks at his drink and chugs it all down before wiping his mouth and hands on a napkin, and turning around to face Jo Wilson.

Jo notices him standing next to her and turns her head to smile at him. Alex attempts what looks like a smile as holds his hand out and asks, “Would you like to dance?”

Jo looks at him, her eyes gleaming as she glances down at his outstretched palm. She looks back up at him with a soft and somewhat teasing smile on her face as she says, “I would love to.”

What lasted for minutes seemed like eternity

I had no clue this one dance would lead you to me

“Alex, where are we?” Jo giggles as she tries not to stumble with Alex leading her up some steps. It’s their first anniversary and Alex said he had a surprise for her, one that he said he’s been wanting to do ever since we danced at Ben and Bailey’s wedding, which is why she’s currently trying not to fall over after he blindfolded her before he brought her to the car and to wherever they are at the moment. She also has a surprise for him, one she’s not sure of what his reaction will be.

“We’re almost there, baby, just two more steps and… Ha! We’re here!” Alex exclaims enthusiastically. Jo puts her arms out and tries to feel out for anything that could give her a clue on where she is but she doesn’t come into contact with anything.

“Okay, so I’m going to take your blindfold off, okay?” Jo nods, and Alex continues, ”I’m gonna take it off, BUT you can’t open your eyes just yet. You can open them when the song ends.” Jo furrows her eyebrows in confusion but agrees to it anyway. Alex slowly undoes the blindfold on her head and as promised, Jo keeps her eyes closed. Alex steps away from her for a moment before music fills the silence around them and Jo smiles at the familiar tune.

She feels Alex slip his hands around her waist and Jo wraps hers around his neck. They start to sway comfortably as Jo tucks her head in the crook of his neck, softly singing along to the song.

“Mmm, so this is love, so this is what makes life divine.” Alex takes her hand and spins her. He takes her back in his arms and softly hums along. They stay in that position, swaying, for the remaining minutes of the song before Jo slowly opens her eyes. She’s in the middle of a living room of a house, a newly built and furnished one at that, and in a picture frame in front of her is a picture that the couple took as a joke for their friends.

In the photo, Alex is down on his knee with a faux ring in hand and Jo’s hands are on her mouth, feigning shock and surprise. Jo feels Alex’s arm slip around her figure and looks down to see Alex’s hand holding open a small, velvet box with a princess shaped diamond on a ring shining at her. She stares at it in awe, with tears in her eyes, as Alex whispers in her ear, “Will you marry me, Jo?”

Jo grabs the hand that’s holding the small box and spins around to face Alex. She leans in to kiss him and right before their lips touch, she whispers a soft “yes” before closing the gap between them.

They kiss softly before Jo pulls back and rests her forehead against his as her hands hold his face. “I also have a surprise.” Jo says, smiling softly with her eyes closed. She takes one of his hands that was resting on her waist, and slowly slides it to her stomach which was carrying the tiniest bump. It was tiny, very tiny, but it was there, and it makes Alex suck in a breath.

Hundreds of friends in the room and you’re dressed in white

You walk down the aisle and I smile to know that you’re mine

Alex stares at the woman walking down the aisle towards him and he feels like he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe and when Jo grins at him, he can breathe. It’s cheesy he knows, but it was like the girl was his oxygen. Her and the little life she was carrying inside her.

Link, who asked Jo personally if he could give her away, pats Alex’s shoulder and gives him a manly hug once they reach the end of the aisle to where Alex was standing. Jo gives Link a kiss on the cheek after he gives her away to Alex before he goes to his seat.

“We are here today to…” Alex drowns Meredith out and stares at Jo, who feels him staring at her and turns to look at him lovingly. He sees that she’s teary-eyed and he chuckles lightly at that. Jo seems to realize what he’s laughing about and wipes a tear that escapes from the corner of her eyes as she mouths, “Hormones.”

Their stares and actions go unnoticed for a while as they forget where they are before Meredith catches their attention by clearing her throat. “I think this is the part where you guys say I do.” She says quietly to the two in front of her.

“I do? Oh yes, I do!”

“Yeah, I do.”

Jo and Alex stumble over their answers simultaneously and make their small crowd of friends and family laugh. Meredith smiles at the two who join hands and look at each other lovingly, Alex putting his hand on Jo’s 5-month bump, caressing it softly, before holding Jo’s hands again.

We cheers our champagne and wait for our song to begin

The band starts to play and you ask me to dance once again

Jo is sitting and chatting with Helen and Bailey while Alex does the same with their other guests. Helen and Bailey smile at her while Helen puts her hand on top of Jo’s, which was softly caressing her bump. “How are you feeling?” She asks her.

Jo smiles softly as her eyes scan the room, looking for his husband, seeing him laughing and talking with Meredith, Cristina, and Jackson. She looks back at Helen and answers, “I feel wonderful.”

They continue talking for a while before she feels someone caress her arm. She turns her head around and sees her gorgeous husband standing in front of her, with his hand stretched out to her. She’s taken back to the first time they danced and she smiles giddily at her husband. Her husband, it still feels surreal to her that he is her husband.

“Would you like to dance?” Alex repeats the words he said to her the night they fell in love and Jo swears she felt like she was falling all over again.

Jo puts her hand in his and stands up as she says, “I would love to.” They head to the middle of the dance floor and they vaguely see the crowd that was dancing in the middle slowly disperse for the couple’s first dance as husband and wife.

Fifty-nine years have gone by since you said yes

Even now in your hospital bed you still look your best

“Hey, ma, you feeling okay?” Caroline, Alex and Jo’s oldest grandchild, says as she walks into Jo’s hospital room and sits by the foot of her bed. Alex is sitting in a recliner chair that their kids brought for him from the house next to Jo’s bed.

Jo smiles at her granddaughter before answering, “As comfortable as I can be, honey.” Jo had a mild stroke the day before and it caused her to also have a mild heart attack which resulted in her ending up in the hospital. Alex almost had a heart attack because of it but their kids, who are also doctors, were able to calm him down.

“What about you, pa? Your blood pressure down?” Alex rolls his eyes after her question and Jo slaps his arm for it. Caroline just laughs at their actions and raises her eyebrow at his grandfather.

“Yes, yes, it’s down.” He smiles softly at her, laughing lightly. They hear a knock on the door and see Jo’s doctor with a look on his face that both Jo and Alex know too well, and Alex wishes he doesn’t know it at all.

“You’re discharged, Mrs. Karev. You can go home and rest now.” Her words are soft and warm, but the meaning behind it is not. Alex and Jo share a look and Jo takes Alex’s hand in hers, softly caressing it with her thumb, as Alex leans forward on her bed and brings their joined hands to his mouth, kissing it softly as a tear makes its way down his face. Jo puts her hand on his cheek and wipes the tear with her thumb as she softly whispers, “Take me home.” Alex nods at her, a few more tears escaping from his eyes as he places a few more kisses on her hand and leans forward to kiss her on the lips before he stands up.

We might be old but there’s still one thing we can do

Put on a song, let’s pretend to dance ‘round the room

“Ly, can you help us with something?” Alex calls down the stairs for his youngest daughter. He hears her say something and soon sees her figure walking up the stairs.

“What do you need, dad?” Elizabeth says whilst she pats her hands dry on her pants. Alex leads her to him and his mother’s bedroom and points to the mini speaker he placed on the bedside table.

“Could you set that up and play your father and I’s song?” Jo says from the bed, grinning slightly at her daughter. Elizabeth agrees with a smile and sets it up while Alex helps Jo up from their bed and sturdies her by hugging her figure to his. Jo puts her arms around his neck as Alex puts his around her waist and Elizabeth plays the song from her father’s phone on the speaker.

They start swaying slightly and slowly to the music as Elizabeth makes a move to leave. She stays by the doorway for a moment, staring at her parents who were still as in love as they were when they were younger. She’s tired and emotional, having spent the day with everyone in their family and eating dinner with her mother while she was still here. She decides to retire for the night and quietly closes the door to her parents’ room. The sound of the song playing loudly in the quiet house, loud enough for everyone in the house to hear.

“You’d think their songs were made for us.” Jo says, laughing lightly as they sway to the song of their favorite duo. Alex chuckles at her comment and holds her tighter, burying his face in her hair. “Maybe they are.” He says, which makes her giggle.

“It’s their wedding vows, and it’s our life.” Jo says quietly.

Alex wants to cry, but he doesn’t. He wants to, but he doesn’t feel like he has to. His wife is dying. She could die now, in his arms, or she could die later, beside him, and he knows in himself that he will go wherever she does.

They sway lightly, basking in the music and silence, as they whisper the song in each other’s ears. “No matter where you are, I’ll be there.”

Thirty-five hours have gone by since your last breath

Memories of dancing with you are all I have left

“Dad, will you be alright here?” Mason, his eldest, asks him. They just got home from the funeral home, where a wake for Jo will be held in a few days.

She died just the night before, after their last dance, they went to sleep, only Jo never woke up. Alex did, and once he saw her, he knew immediately. He held her for a while, but he didn’t cry, he quietly sang to her and whispered his vows to the silent air. Their kids found them less than an hour later. They cried, their father comforted them, and they pulled themselves together to do what needed to be done.

“I’ll be okay, bee.” He tells him. His eyes wander the room for a while before it settles on the picture frame sitting on their bedside table. Alex sits down and takes the frame in his hands while Mason stays by the door. “I’ll be alright, I just wanna lay down for a while. I’m tired.” He gives his son a crooked smile, to which he mirrors. Mason nods at his father and makes a move to leave, but before he could close the door, Alex calls out to him. “Mason,” He says,

“Take care of our family. I love you.” Mason feels a wave of dread and realization wash over him. He stays in his place for a while before he decides to walk over to his father and give him a hug. Alex rubs his back as he takes a few breaths. Mason gulps, trying to push down the feeling of wanting to cry, “I love you, too.” He walks out and closes the door.

Alex sighs and lies down on his side of the bed. He turns to his side and stares at the picture framed in his hands, tracing the outline of Jo’s face. He smiles as he sighs and closes his eyes, picturing Jo waiting for him with her hand outstretched, asking him for a dance.

Just a few seconds

before it’s my time to go

Hello my God and my love,

at last I am home

#jolex #jolex oneshot #jolex au #jolex fanfic #jolex fic #jolex fanfiction #i want jolex back #jo karev #alex karev #us the duo #one last dance #oneshot

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amydancepants-peralta · 4 years

Text

baby, I’ve got you on my mind

“Thank you for that update, McCla- I’m mean, McCarthur.”

Clearing her throat, Amy ducks her head down to focus on the paperwork in front of her, quietly praying that nobody has noticed her mistake. She knew the chances were slim, given that it was her third slip-up since her briefing had begun fifteen minutes ago, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that the concept of returning to work after three months of Pure Family Time was going to be way harder than she’d anticipated.

There had been a part of her that was so. eager. to return to work today, taking extra care to iron her uniform into perfectly symmetrical pleats and polishing her badge so that it shone with just enough pride. Rumours had been circulating around about somebody trying to make adjustments to her precision based filing system (and she wasn’t mad, she just wanted to talk to whomever they were), and as the weeks wore on and Jake returned to work, it became apparent that her FOMOW was no longer something that Amy could easily hide.

She has loved every single second of being a Mommy, right down to the sleepless nights and the cold mornings with her son sleeping snuggled warm against her, but there was no way that Amy could deny how much she missed the order of the NYPD. She had craved the regular flow of paperwork (some that even needed to be notarised); the meetings and seminars and conference calls and oh, how there were so many binders waiting to be filled.

In the past few weeks it had become habit once Jake returned home each evening, to spend the first half hour (at a minimum) telling her about his day - filling her in on any cases that had opened while she’s been away. She lapped up all the information eagerly, throwing out ideas as they came to her, and the sheer thought of being able to play a part in regulating justice to their city made her giddy with excitement. So Amy had been excited to return to work, if only to scratch the itch that her FOMOW had left her with.

As it turned out, she had a much larger case of something brewing underneath her skin - something that was increasing dramatically with every passing second.

Amy had FOMOM: Fear Of Missing Out on Mac.

It had, for example, been exactly one hour and thirty seven minutes since she’d walked out of her and Jake’s apartment, blowing goodbye kisses to her son as he rested comfortably in his father’s arms. One hour and thirty six minutes since she’d reconsidered the whole notion of returning to work, her fingers hovering over Holt’s number on her cell phone as she made her way down the stairs, and one hour and thirty four minutes since she’d convinced herself that she could totally do this.

(Also, it has been sixteen minutes since she’s realised just how many officers on her team had names that began with the letter M. And how her mind no longer seemed to be able to say any other name that began with the same combination of consonants and vowels without automatically reverting to her son’s.)

She hadn’t even passed the two hour mark yet, and already Amy felt like she’d been away from her family for eight years.

Her phone lights up from its resting place along the edge of the podium, and she glances at it quickly, trying her best to tamper down the racing heartbeat that accompanies the notification that her husband has sent her a photo.

This was it. This was the text Jake was going to send to her, that announced excitedly that their prodigy of a son had managed to figure out how to walk, fifteen minutes after she’d stepped out the apartment this morning. Or that he’d pronounced his first word - a clear and proud call for Daddy - and that Jake hadn’t managed to get video of it but it was so amazing, babe, I wish you could have been there to see it!

Her hands grip the wooden edges of the platform her Return To Work speech occupied, eyes glued to the background picture of Mac sleeping on an also sleeping Jake’s chest, and from the tables before her one of the officers clears their throat politely. The sound cuts through the spiral Amy was beginning to gravitate towards, pulling her attention back to her team, and with an apologetic smile she wraps up the rest of the briefing quickly. There were still four and half pages left of her speech, but it’s nothing that she can’t compose in an email when her mind is a little less preoccupied, and in all honesty the only order of business she can focus on right now is Priority One: Unlocking her phone.

There have been many, many advancements in the name of modern technology; and 2 hours, 53 minutes and 47 seconds into Amy’s first shift she has twice already cursed the fact that nobody has created the option for a person to be able to reach into their phone and touch the subject of an image. Never before has she had such a craving to squeeze her son’s chubby cheeks, to feel the unbelievably soft skin that she knows he has.

Her husband, in yet another display of sweetness, has been giving her regular updates on his and Mac’s day at home together - and two minutes ago he’d sent through a photo of their son, reclined in his baby seat, with apple sauce spread out allll over his cheeks. It was equal parts adorable and painful for Amy, for her to not be able to a) grab a cloth and wipe away the mess as her son grins up at her, and b) smother his tiny face with a million tiny kisses.

She missed him. Missed him more than she’d thought possible. Her arms felt empty without their son in them, and it’s nearly impossible for her to imagine what life was like before their family had become a party of three.

In absolutely no surprise to anybody other than himself, Jake has turned out to be an excellent father. He’s been by her side through the whole thing - even the middle of the night feeds, taking to burping their son like a pro - and the way Mac’s face lights up whenever his eyes land on Jake (and vice versa, it’s honestly just the sweetest thing to see) tells Amy all that she needs to know. Their son is going to adore Jake, and there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that her husband is EVER going to walk away from his family.

Distractedly, Amy shuffles the paperwork around on her desk, offering a tight smile to one of her colleagues as they pass. Get it together, Santiago. You are a badass police sergeant for one of the strongest teams in the entire NYPD. You can get through one shift without seeing your son. Her phone vibrates with an incoming heart emoji filled text from her husband, and she takes his support as fuel for her cause, standing up from her desk and taking purposeful strides towards the filing cabinets. You’re a badass police sergeant with a highly effective, strongly sought after filing system, and you can do this.

Her eyebrows knit in disgust as she opens the first drawer, taking in the messy array of folders that occupied the once orderly space, and she supposes she should be thankful in some way that there was someone in the office who thought that this hot mess worked better than her system (and therefore provided a worthy distraction for her entirely preoccupied mind), but in all honesty she’s just completely horrified.

Already composing a polite but firm memorandum in her mind, Amy begins pulling the files out of their incorrect positions, glancing at her watch as she gets to work.

Only five hours, two minutes and twenty seconds to go.

It’s 4 hours and 28 minutes into Amy’s workday when she hears the elevator doors open and a tiny gasp escape Officer Alvarado’s mouth, and with a quick lift of her head she notices why. Jake has suddenly appeared on her floor, with their son safe and sound inside the carrier strapped to his chest. His smile lights up the room - like it always does, even at home - and even though he’s clearly trying to make his way towards Amy, it seems that the sudden appearance of Mac Peralta in the precinct has garnered every single officer’s attention.

Amy’s not one to pull rank (honestly, who is she kidding?) but her footsteps are quick against the linoleum floor, increasing in intensity the closer she gets to her husband, and Jake’s already in the process of unclipping a strap as she nears. “I figured you’d probably be in need of a pick-me-up right about now,” he mumbles, his voice soft enough to only land in Amy’s ears.

Nodding eagerly, Amy shoots her husband a grateful look before smiling in Mac’s direction, stretching her hands out as he lifts his own in recognition.

“There’s my little guy!” She cries out, sliding one hand along her son’s back as his chonky little arms and legs begin to wave around in excitement. He coos as she lifts him out of the carrier with Jake’s help, and the sound buries deep in her heart as the feeling of utter completion begins to wash over her now that Mac is leaning against her chest.

Shifting her shoulder slightly, Amy tilts her grip slightly in an effort to show off to the crowd her greatest achievement to date. “Squad, meet our son - Mac.”

There’s a crowd of tiny waves, all of which are greeted with a tiny saliva-covered fist moving back and forth from Mac’s mouth; and after a few more minutes of leg squishing and attempts to reach out for various badges, Amy’s squad disperses - suddenly aware that absolutely none of them were currently doing their work, and that there was no way they could hide such a fact from their boss.

Jake’s palm rests against Amy’s shoulder as she leads them towards the third floor break room, a quiet eating space that has yet to be tainted by the questionable eating habits of either Scully or Hitchcock. “You have had many brilliant ideas in all the years we’ve been together, babe, but I think this one might just be your best yet.” Amy announces to Jake as she settles into a vacant chair, grinning over at her husband as he chooses the seat opposite.

He smiles, that gentle nod of his head that he does when he’s secretly proud of his actions kicking in, and Amy stretches her left leg out to brush against his. His beam grows brighter as he leans forward, brushing his fingers gently along the tiny curls that have begun to form on their son’s head before replying, “Safe to say, I’ve gotten pretty good and picking up on the my wife is having a meltdown style of texting.”

Scoffing, Amy cranes her head back slightly to take in her son’s adorable face as she responds. “I’d like to think I’ve handled today pretty well.” It’s a lie, and they both know it.

Letting out a soft laugh, Jake shakes his head slightly. “Tell that to the fifty-odd messages I’ve received from you today.”

She feels a soft blush wash over her cheeks, but Amy doesn’t care in the slightest. They both know that Jake fared no better when it had been his turn to return to work, and they’ve come to the total and utter acceptance that Mac Peralta just so happens to be the most adorable and addictive baby that ever graced the earth. Facts are facts, and there was no point hiding it.

“Okay, so maybe I’ve - ” Pausing mid-sentence, Amy takes a closer look at her son, fingers swirling around his soft hair carefully.

“Ames?”

“His hair has grown.”

Nodding, Jake scoots his chair closer, and the corresponding scrape sounds oddly loud as it bounces off the surrounding walls. “Yeah, he’s definitely going to end up with my curls. It’s both a blessing and a curse, but he’ll figure that out eventually.”

Amy shakes her head quickly. “No, I mean it’s grown. Since this morning.”

“Babe, it’s been five hours.”

“It has, though! See this curl? It’s WAY more pronounced than it was earlier today. It wraps around my finger twice now!”

His eyes are dubious, but if there is anything that Jake has learned by now it is not to doubt his wife, and so he responds simply with a nod. It’s not convincing in any way, shape, or form, but Amy is way too distracted to bother with a rebuttal.

“I knew this was going to happen! He’s growing so quickly, babe.” Her eyes have turned wide as saucers, and she can feel her eyebrows raising to nearly the point of her hairline, but none of that matters in the slightest. “We’re going to miss out on so. much! Why did we not take this into consideration?” Her lips press against the top of Mac’s head as she holds him closer, jiggling one knee on reflex as he wriggles slightly in her arms. Slowly, Amy begins to feel her chest tighten up as all of the niggling doubts of her returning to work rush to the surface.

“Ames”. Jake’s hands rest gently on top of her own, squeezing slightly as she raises her head to meet his. “We’re not going to miss out on anything. You have put together the most thorough, well-spaced out babysitting schedule that has meant that one of our friends or family is always going to be around when we’re not. With any luck, it’ll never be longer than eight or nine hours before we’re all home together again, and either one of us is always only a video call away.”

Nodding, Amy drops her head back down to leave another kiss on Mac’s forehead, and she takes in a deep breath of that incredible new baby smell while she’s there. Already, she can feel herself being to reset.

“There are going to be a thousand moments, some big and some small, and yeah, maybe we might miss a couple here and there, but the most important thing is that Mac is already so, so loved. He knows that, and we know that, and honestly that’s all that matters.”

Amy’s pounding heart slowly lessens its assault against her chest, and as Jake’s hands tighten their grip over hers she begins to nod. If someone had told her eight years ago that the immature cop that sat across from her would end up being the source of some of the sweetest things she’s ever heard in her life, she would have laughed in their faces. But here he was, holding his rightful title of Greatest Husband and Father Ever, and honestly she wouldn’t have it any other way. She smiles, leaning in slightly to bridge the gap between them with a chaste (read: work appropriate) kiss. “I love you so much, babe.”

He mirrors her nod with his own, throwing in a wink. “It’s easy to do, Ames. I am very loveable.”

She knows it to be true, but still Amy rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Peralta. You’re just lucky that we make pretty cute babies.”

“Liquid fire, Ames. I said it on Day One, and there’s no way I’m backing down.”

Letting out a contented sigh, Amy pulls Mac in for one last tight squeeze, taking in another hit of his perfect baby scent before standing. “Alright. I’ve got to get back to work now, otherwise it’s just never going to happen.” Leaving one last parting kiss on Mac’s forehead, she passes her son to Jake, still unable to tear her eyes away from him for too long. “Thank you so much for bringing him in today, this is exactly what I needed.” Her son grumbles out a protest in the sudden change of plans, and it’s all she can do to not pull him immediately back into her arms.

Jake smiles, reaching out to fiddle with Mac’s flailing right arm as he leans towards Amy for another sneaky kiss. “I figure once he’s big enough to fit into that NYPD onesie the squad gave us, we’ll just set him up with his own desk in the corner.”

“There you go, with another brilliant idea!”

Gripping Mac’s hand in his fingers, Jake calls out “Goodbye, Mommy!”, and oh, how Amy’s heart begins to ache. She feels it squeeze tighter as her two favourite men walk towards the elevator, and it gives one last protesting ache as the elevator doors slide shut. Her feet feel heavy as they turn away from the exit, and she flicks her wrist upwards to check the time again.

2 hours, 57 minute and 38 seconds to go.

There’s a vague memory of paperwork, interrogations, and a quick debrief as Amy’s shoes hit the pavement on the sidewalk outside the precinct, and her mind is still partially thinking of a case that landed on her desk late this afternoon when she notices what has easily turned into one of her favourite sights to see: her husband and son, waiting patiently outside for her return.

Her hands may be a little grabby as they reach for her baby boy, but Jake only chuckles as he passes Mac over, running his hand up and down her back in greeting as she smothers her son’s face in kisses. She mirrors the kisses with another one on Jake’s cheek as he reaches for her purse, gripping it with one hand as he takes her free hand with his other, and Amy’s smile is undeniably bright as they make their way down the familiar path home.

Tomorrow, she will interview a suspect and put all of her efforts into finally cracking the drug ring that had begun to fester on the streets of Brooklyn. Tomorrow, she will play her part in the takedown of a organised crime kingpin that has held reign for far too long.

But for now, Amy’s going home to spend time with her family - this little family of three that might be smaller than others, but that her and Jake have created on their very own, and nobody can tear away from them no matter how hard they try. Sometimes, she will be a badass sergeant that can take down New York’s worst with a swing of her fist. And sometimes, she’s simply a mother at home with her family, singing along to nursery rhymes and wiping spit-up from her blouse.

She misses her family when they’re not together, and she misses her work when she’s not in uniform - and even though there’s still a tiny portion of lingering doubt that maybe she won’t be able to handle both, with Jake’s fingers gripped tightly against her own on their walk home a sense of calm washes over her.

Both are equally important, and both are 100% worth it, and if one means missing out on something from the other, there is always going to be one Most Important detail to consider - that she and Jake were working hard to create a safe and loving world for their son.

And that was worth fighting for, even if it came with a little FOMO.

#a little something that came from nowhere last night #juuuust scraping in for April 28 #aka our National Holiday #the FOMOW is real #b99 fanfic #jake x amy fic #peraltiago fic #hope you guys find this sweet #title from Powderfinger ... Aussie represent!#my writing

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act-addict-actors-matchups · 4 years

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@otomeramblings said,

I'm a girl, 23 years old, around 162 cm, with medium length dark brown hair (almost black) and brown eyes. I'm one of those people who are often asked "are you okay? Are you mad?" and no, more often than not that's just how my resting face looks lol

I'm a Scorpio and an INFP. According to my friends, I'm usually very sweet but no one likes to be around me when I get seriously angry ^^; I guess it's because i'm generally very soft spoken and I try to avoid conflict as much as I can, and when I'm upset is one of the times when I actually raise my voice. I have people tell me that I'm smart, but I just consider myself to be an overall average person. It usually takes me a while to fully trust someone but once they've earned my trust, I cherish their friendship for life.

I can fluently speak English and Spanish, and I recently got my English Translation degree. I love to read (both novels and manga) and to discover new music, I also really like dancing (I did ten years of ballet) and I recently rediscovered my love for drawing and writing.

Qualities I would like in a s/o:

-passionate, about anything, really. I'm usually very reserved unless I have something I really want to talk about and I appreciate when others listen, and for that reason I love to listen to people talk about things they're passionate about

-mature, not in relation to his hobbies bit more so in the sense that he can have a serious conversation when needed and take responsibility for his actions.

-patient. Being introverted and kinda awkward, I usually need time to recharge after being social and even while spending time together there will probably be silences when I think of what to say or even times when I'd just rather we spent it doing our own thing while being together.

Qualities I don't like:

-shouting. I hate it when people shout at me when they're mad because it makes me tear up immediately, I would much rather you tell why you're mad in a calm tone so we can work things out.

✧ The way I scREAMED when I saw your url 🤭 I love your writing so much skdhksdhksjd thank you for requesting a matchup. 😳💞 Stay safe! I hope all goes well for you!

I’d match you with: . . .

➜ HOW YOU TWO FIRST MET ; The blue sky was dotted with fluffy white clouds that drifted lazily in the gentle breeze while you were on your way to buy new drawing pencils. Your current ones were not exactly in the best condition after being used too many times. A sigh escaped from you as you fastened your pace. In all honesty, you would rather stay at home and maybe watch one of your shows but you knew if you didn’t go out to buy those now, you never would. As one particular building came to your sight, you suddenly stopped in your tracks. It was a flower shop. The vibrant display of flowers covered the table outside. Bold purple, soft pink and light lavender flowers sat right in front of you as well as some others you didn’t know the names of. The sweet smell of blossomed flowers filled your nose as you inhaled and exhaled. They were so beautiful that you couldn’t help but to reach at a lavender, the purple petals felt like soft velvet against your skin. The chime of the door opening ringed into your ears, drawing your attention away from the flowers in front of you. A man with a blue striped T-shirt, a pair of black pants and black leather shoes came out of the building with a bag you thought had flower seeds in it. A brown trench coat with a blue inner lining slung over his shoulder, beautiful, dark blue hair rustling as he gave his thanks to the employee before closing the door. The man turned around and you swear you stop breathing for a moment, because oh my god how dare someone this handsome come in to your field of view without a warning. After realizing that you’ve been staring at a stranger for a good seconds, you hesitantly looked away. But just your luck, while you decided that it was the time to carry on with your mission, you dropped your purse to the ground. You groaned before bending over to pick it up but to your surprise, you see another hand reaching over it? And most importantly, you saw that it was that handsome stranger when you looked up??? He gave you a kind but awkward smile as he hold out your bag to you. You muttered a “thank you” before grabbing it. After that cliche moment, there was an awkward silence between you and the man, but he decided to speak up to start a conversation by asking if you liked flowers. The conversation smoothly flowed from there. He just had that aura of gentleness radiating that you couldn’t help but warm up to the stranger, who you later learned the name of, quickly. He even offered to accompany you to the shop you were going, which you agreed if he didn’t mind. Your relationship steadily developed from there. To be honest, it wouldn't be obvious at all that Tsumugi has a crush on you. He's friendly and sweet to everyone he meets most of the time so nobody thinks twice whenever he's with you, except maybe Tasuku. His underlying feelings for you would show in the little things he does, the way his eyes shine whenever you laugh, how his ears perk up whenever he hears your name, how he somehow memorized all your favorite foods after you offhandedly mentioned it once before. For someone who majored in psychology, it’s kind of hilarious how dense he is regarding his own feelings. He would mistake those feelings of his as a weirdly strong platonic attraction for you and continue spending time with you in hopes to appease the feeling but be confused as to why he always felt unsatisfied. He finally realizes how smitten he is for you after a long internal monologue he had after he almost had a heart attack when you hugged him once for whatever reason.

➜ PERSONALITY COMPATIBILITY ; Tsumugi is the walking epitome of every single thing you’re looking in a S/O. You want someone passionate about something? This man literally couldn’t give up on his dream and love for the performance art. He’d be more than willing to talk about how acting involved a broad range of skills, including a well-developed imagination, emotional facility, physical expressivity, vocal projection, clarity of speech, the ability to interpret drama etc. He’d try bunch of different gestures in front of you and ask you which one you liked the best. He also absolutely loves it when you are the one who does the talking. His strength is CANONLY listening to others after all. He just gives off this aura that compels you to think that you can talk about anything and everything with him. Just like you, Tsumugi has a great need for harmony and dislikes any conflict so if there were to be any fights, they would be resolved in a day or two with the two of you talking it out. He majored in Psychology in university, and is very good at reading people so if you’re both in a social gathering and he senses you need to take a break, he will hold your hand and walk you somewhere with less crowd and noise. When you want to be alone, he’d give you the space you need and if you want to spend time he would be there. He is a pretty clueless baby at the start and would try to ask people for help on dating advice. He will however remember every single memory you two will and have made. You’ll never see him forgetting any milestones in your guys’ relationship. His way of saying “I love you” is through the flowers he picks and grows. As someone who can be shy to vocally express his love for you, he handpicks each flower based on their meanings with the hope that they could accurately convey the emotions he holds for you. The very sight of your smile as you watch each tiny plant grow kindles a budding warmth inside him, as if he’s a bee intoxicated by the nectar of your happiness. And to him, the vision of you happy is prettier than any flower in his garden, pushing him to always keep you bright and blooming.

➜ SHARED ACTIVITIES ; Tsumugi canonly moon/stargazes with Misumi so why wouldn’t he do the same with his S/O? It’s a cool, romantic and surprisingly unique activity to do together. There aren’t many activities one can plan for a date that are sweeter or more intimate than a night spent together under a beautiful, sparkling sky. You would ask each other questions about one another, without being afraid of letting the conversation slow down. This is a date to relax and linger over. If not that, I can totally see him taking you to a botanical garden. These places are beautiful and not too busy in general. Bonus points if you bring a camera and get some nice photos together as a couple. i’m so soft rn 🥺 But I feel like your most common date would be either tending the garden in the mankai dorm or just doing your own little things while being together. You might be writing on the table while he’s going over his script for the winter troupe’s newest play one more time or he might be grading his student’s test, since he’s a tutor and all, while you’re drawing. I see Tsumugi as someone who reads a lot so maybe both of you can read the same book together and discuss it afterwards. These types of dates are great for discovering how the other person views the world. One might learn that their significant other is passionate about a social justice cause, their favorite author, or their philosophy of beauty. These dates are great for sparking good conversations and they are introvert friendly. Or something even better: reading aloud. Reading out loud to each other can be incredibly sweet. And, as spiritual counselor Davida Rappaport says, "just the fact that you are both close and sharing space is ... a nice way to spend an evening."

➜ ZODIAC COMPATIBILITY ; Tsumugi is a Capricorn, his birthday being December 28th. When Scorpio and Capricorn make a love match, they get an opportunity to not only enjoy a loving relationship and learn the value of being a pair, but also to grow and mature as individuals. These two may be wary about sharing themselves with one another at first, and this emotional caution may dampen the initial impact of this relationship. These two tend to be a bit cautious (Capricorn) and pensive (Scorpio), and it takes a while for them to feel comfortable with a significant other. Though they may be shy of getting involved and not the quickest to trust and share, these two Signs will discover that they can have quite a profound connection — one of friendship and deep loyalty. What’s the best thing about the Scorpio-Capricorn love match? Their determination toward shared ideas and their strong devotion to one another. They can open doors to one another’s souls and show one another new ways of perceiving and feeling.

#tsumugi tsukioka #a3! matchup #act! addict! actors!

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throtegote · 4 years

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Yung Waitloz (2012 me’s rapper name)

(If you’d like to read this off my wix blog here’s the link: https://erikatriesall.wixsite.com/tlhodia)

If you get triggered by topics concerning body image and weight loss then proceed with caution or don’t proceed at all.

I probably discuss way too much personal stuff online, but hey, who doesn’t appreciate a little oversharing every once in a while?

I have never been skinny or slim, let’s start there. Sure, I was a tiny baby, but that was about it. I have always been bigger than a lot of my classmates and even now I’m in no way built like a Victoria’s Secret model. Also, keep in mind that I’ve never been clinically obese or severely overweight. Got it? Cool.

Enter My Mom. She has been on my case to lose weight for as long as I remember. I admit, there were times when I was particularly chonky, but that’s beside the point. I remember being 8-9 years old when she spent over 15 minutes ridiculing and calling me out on how my spandex gym tights made noises as my thighs rubbed together during our uphill walk around the residential estate. She was also and still is, fond of pinching my “love-handles” (in quotes because if I remember “You can’t even call them love handles because you have nobody loving you.”), with her long-ass, sharp nails whenever they appeared over the waistband of my pants.

(I’m not bitter or anything)

Essentially, 8-year-old me was told to lose weight enough times to try. I ate the food they gave me, and only what they gave me, and went on walks occasionally with My Mom (which I despised because I really didn’t leave the comfort of my room to be berated by my birth giver). I even started taking netball more seriously and started athletics training. What I also started doing was paying close attention to the bodies of girls around me and playing spot the difference. Not too long afterwards I learned to hate clothes shopping and hide in group photos. When I look through photo albums and my parent’s phone galleries now, it’s plain to see that I was an Olympic grade camera dodger.

Fast forward a few years. Now I’m 11-12 years old. I’ve grown taller and older, so my weight distribution has changed, but I’m still not skinny. My Mom is still on me to lose weight, even more so now that I’m older and maturing into “womanhood” because apparently, it is a crime to wear pants only a few sizes smaller than your mother of similar body structure and lesser height. Now that I’m older and more educated, I’ve realized that even though I was playing a sport and jogging and going for aerobics with my mom occasionally, I won’t get skinny unless I change my diet. In fact, there was a time when some government nurses came to do regional health checks at school and some data included body weight (there was a crowd around me when it was my turn to hop on the scale. The boys laughed, I went to the bathroom and cried. But it’s all good). The nurses then asked me questions about stuff like the bread we had at home, if I ate junk food or added sugar, stuff like that. That’s when it clicked. It clicked real hard.

A typical school lunch packed by My Mom comprised a hotdog/ham sandwich/homemade burger, a packet of chips/crisps and a juice box or Tropica when she was feeling generous. Which is what my brothers and a lot of my friends were packing to school with no problems: but I’m not built like those people so I can’t eat like them, right? The lunch had to go. And go it did. And so did pretty much all my other regular meals.

If My Mom was distracted with getting ready for work, I’d ditch breakfast and lie about it, then hop onto the school bus. Getting rid of the stuff in my lunchbox wasn’t too difficult to do because I had friends who were happy to help. This meant that for the first 12 hours of the day all I had was a juice box or nothing at all. It worked. My Mom noticed and complimented my improved physique along with a handful of relatives. But was I skinny? Not even.

Then came the Google searches. “How to lose weight quickly” “How to get skinny” “How to get a thigh gap” “How to lose thigh fat fast” Just to name a few.

That’s when I discovered the infamous pro-anorexia community. Or should I say that’s when they found me? I’m not too sure.

Over the school holidays, I started with the so-called “K-pop” diets and did YouTube workouts every night with more consistency than my prayer life. Two boiled eggs for breakfast, some milk for lunch (which was disastrous because apparently, I’m lactose intolerant), and for dinner… water, with or without lemon or tea. It really depended on the day. Not that hard to get away with, really. When the fat girl says they’re not hungry, who are you to force them?

But I couldn’t lose weight fast enough. Sure, slowly killing myself was working, but was I skinny? Nah.

So, I turned to “thinspo” and “pretty girl diet” challenges and "pro-ana" coaches to guide me. (If you're somebody who thinks it's okay to coax children into dangerous eating disorders and potentially death, you deserve a chair. But make it electric. Periodt.) My stomach was flattening, and my pants came on a lot easier, but the truth was I was utterly miserable. Getting skinny was all I thought about. And I’m not talking about Victoria’s Secret model skinny, I got to a point where I was jealous of the science lab skeleton, no jokes. Food wasn’t food anymore; it was just numbers and macros. I was always dizzy and cranky and my hair was falling out and even though I had done it for long enough to overcome the hunger pangs, there was a new pain, one that manifested in my chest and couldn’t be treated with sleep or Panado. I was the only one on holiday for three months, so nobody noticed.

I was twelve when I first tried to off myself with prescription drugs. All because I couldn’t be skinny and in my head that meant I couldn’t be pretty, or loved, or befriended. I woke up after a 8-hour “nap” to find that nothing had changed.

Why am I exposing myself by telling this story?

If you’re a parent or sibling or anyone who cares for a child who you think needs to lose weight for whatever reason (hopefully for health-related reasons, not purely aesthetics), please do not leave them to their own devices. They will search for authoritative guidance elsewhere, and the wrong people may find them. People who prescribe oxygen as a meal plan and perpetuate the notion that if you can pinch at your flesh, then you are ugly and will remain ugly until you are feather-light. Despite being one of the smartest kids in my grade, I still fell for it. (Update: I’m still not skinny. I probably only fucked up my metabolism and lost hair. -100/10, would not recommend to my worst enemy.)

Good news is at some point I got sick and tired of feeling the way I did. My suicide attempt failed miserably but instead of trying again, I uninstalled all my calorie counter and fitness apps, tossed all my magazines in the trash and talked to my mom and made it a point to talk to friends more, especially those who understood in some way or another. The Body Positivity movement was rising, and that helped a lot. Big ups to all the lovely people on YouTube who post videos on #recovery.

But experiences like this don’t just go away. You don’t forget and move on. I still have relapses, I still feel insurmountable guilt after eating, I still feel like I would rather eat baked rat than gain weight, I still go through binge-restrict cycles. All stemming from events that happened over 8 years ago.

My Mom had some level of good intention, I won't disregard that. People on her side of the family suffer from chronic illnesses that can all be prevented if not managed better through proper diet and exercise and she doesn't want her kids developing high blood pressure at age 13. Fine, I get it. But damn.

If you can avoid doing this to yourself or someone impressionable in your life, please do. Model healthy behaviours for your kids to adopt and talk health; not snatched waistlines, not thigh gaps nor scale readings. Teach your kids not to base the entirety of their worth on their appearance. And do not, under any circumstances, body shame them.

Please?

Once again, a lot of what is here is based on personal experience and opinion (‘coz it’s my blog, duh’). If you have separate ideas or any disagreements, bring them up in the comments or email me. I love a good debate.

Also, if you currently relate to anything mentioned in this post, take this as your sign to get better. Trust me, you're worth it.

xoxo

Erika

#body positive #ed #weightloss #childhood trauma #true story #personal #tw #body image

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jawnjendes · 5 years

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shawn meets... | sapphire

SUMMARY: in the life of a rockstar, shawn mendes comes across some unique people. sometimes, things stray from the norm. (AU, shawn x every one of my oc’s)(continuation/spin off of goth gf)

AN: it REALLY feels like shawnblr is fuckign dead but yknow what its spooky szn so death is acceptable! speaking of spooky, this is another for @fourtristattoos spooky writing fest! i swear im building up to actual spooky stuff pls bear with me oh and theres more smut in this

***let me know if you wanna be added to the taglist

previous chapter

sapphire’s blog | sapphire’s playlist | masterlist

Shawn was quite open to wearing anything these days. He was also open to wearing nothing, but that photoshoot opportunity hasn't come yet, though. But this pastel pink and white suit was a bit much. Actually, the sparkly silver boots were the tackiest part of this getup. Sure, the entire outfit was worth more than all three of his guitars he'd be using during the performance, but he wasn't exactly looking forward to resembling the Had To Do It To 'Em guy when he took off the pink blazer. According to Tiffany, the birthday girl wanted all party entertainers to be in her signature color.

He still hadn't met Sapphire Venus Lilith. This performance was for her, and she hadn't even attended the meetings for it. She was apparently busy with an old friend… catching up in her bedroom. For two straight days.

The yard was full of partygoers already. Tables with hot pink clothes were displayed with all sorts of snacks and drinks. Servers were going around tending to guests, all in pink bowties of course. There was also a raised, pink metallic throne in the middle of the yard, surrounded by 2 burly security guards. The throne was right in front of the stage that Shawn was going to perform on, so he wouldn't miss Sapphire in the crowd. Music was already booming through the large speakers, a Little Mix song that reminded him of a different time. The bass was shaking the window Shawn was looking out of.

“Fan of myself, I’m stanning myself I love me so much I put my hands on myself”

Tiffany was fixing the cuffs on Shawn’s blazer. Anna was doing last minute touch ups to his hair, which was slicked back. It was similar to the 2019 Met Gala, but instead of bronze streaks, it was silver glitter that was definitely going to be a bitch to wash out.

“You nervous?” Tiffany asked.

“Excited,” Shawn corrected. “I missed playing shows.”

“We need to get you on tour again.” She smiled.

“Gotta make a record first.”

There was a sudden knock on the door, making all three of them jump. Shawn made eye contact with Tiffany, and they both chuckled at the ridiculous response.

Anna went to answer, since the door was locked. “It’s probably Andrew, wondering if you’re ready.” She opened the door, and let out a surprised, “Hello! Hi, come on in!”

Just by the change in her tone, it was safe to say it wasn't Andrew who had knocked. Shawn turned to see who had come in, and was first met with a powerful flowery scent, followed by a tall, petite woman.

“Make way for the G-O-double D-E-S-S I spare no enemies in this dress Uh huh, uh huh”

This woman was blonde, curled princess locks cascading down her shoulders. On top of her head was the largest and most extra looking sparkling tiara Shawn had ever seen in his life, but it suited her. Her face was soft with pretty pink lips and piercing blue eyes. Her petite body was clad in a tiny top made of soft pink bedazzles and equally tiny shorts of the same color. There was no other way to describe her as anything but beautiful. Knock-the-wind-out-of-me, step-on-me-in-your-white-Louboutins beautiful.

She was followed by Kat, who was the polar opposite, color wise. Tight black dress, long dark hair in a high ponytail. Unlike her employer, she was not smiling, nor giving Shawn any attention. She merely typed on her phone in a professional manner, the same look Andrew would have when he was texting important people.

Shawn couldn’t even think about the potential awkward tension he would have with Kat because he was too busy gaping at the blonde. How was one person so powerful already?

“Hello, I’m Sapphire,” she greeted, holding out her hand.

Something possessed Shawn the moment he touched her soft skin, and he bent down to kiss her hand.

That seemed to please her, because she grinned, showing the tiniest dimple in her cheek. “You’re my little singer tonight, aren’t you?”

“That’s me,” he replied, almost losing his voice by how much it softened. He really couldn’t stop looking into those eyes. “Happy birthday!”

“Oh thanks, love. I can’t wait to see what you’re gonna do for me.” She was still holding his hand, squeezing ever so slightly.

Shawn’s cheeks heated up so goddamn fast. There was something in those worse, something sickly sweet and intoxicating. “I, uh, I think you’ll like it. I hope you do.”

Sapphire was still smiling as she turned to look at Kat. Wordlessly, the assistant went to Tiffany and Anna, chatting them in on the evening’s events. Then, Sapphire took Shawn by the collar of his blazer and stepped closer to him, her glossy lips at his ear.

“If I really love your gig,” she whispered, “I may give you something extra.”

And yeah, his pants got tighter. Good thing he was going to be holding a guitar all night.

Sapphire leaned back, smoothing the area she had been clinging to. “If it’s okay with you, of course.”

He cleared his throat, trying to calm his body. “Uh, no yeah. Yeah. Yes. Very okay.”

“Wonderful, darling! I’ll see you out there. Come along, KitKat!”

With that, she turned on her heel and left the room, Kat in tow.

Shawn immediately plopped down in the nearest chair, starstruck. He’s never seen nor heard of this girl ever in his life, and somehow she managed to turn him into putty within the first few minutes of meeting him.

“You need anything?” Tiffany asked, trying to mask her amusement. “A glass of water? A cold shower perhaps?”

He blushed even more. He’s never been so flustered so fast, let alone from someone he just met.

“Did I say happy birthday to her?” he asked, dazed.

“Yes,” Anna and Tiffany said at the same time.

Then, Brian entered the room, a dopey grin on his face. “Guess who just met the birthday girl!”

“Shawn did,” Tiffany answered.

Brian’s grin vanished. “What? Man, I thought I was the first one! She’s so…”

“Yeah,” Shawn agreed. Then he got up and took his friend to the side. “Dude, she wants to meet up after my set.”

“No way.”

“I swear.”

“Didn’t you just hook up with her assistant?” Brian asked. “You’d think she caught wind of that.”

Shawn didn’t know, nor did he really care. “That’s why I need you to hit up the assistant. I don’t know if she’s hung up on me or anything and I don’t wanna take that chance.”

Brian made a noise between a scoff and a laugh. “Full of ourselves, are we?”

“Please?” Shawn asked, bringing his hands together.

“Well, what if I want Sapphire and not her stuck up assistant?”

This wouldn’t be the first time Shawn asked Brian to distract a former one night stand. But it was the one time Brian wasn’t agreeing to do it. Shawn put his hands down, surprised and mildly annoyed.

“Kat’s not stuck up, trust me,” he said. “And… Sapphire said she wants me. It’s her choice.”

“I’m not taking your leftovers again, man,” Brian said as he folded his arms. “You always get the girl! Let me have something for once!”

Now Shawn was even more annoyed. “Maybe you’d get something too if-”

“If I was a famous popstar? If I was as good as you?”

“Why are you being such a dick?”

Then, Tiffany stepped in, literally. She stood between Shawn and Brian. “Guys, don’t do this. It’s just one girl.”

Brian ignored her. “I’m being a dick because I’m tired of being an extension of you! I’m being a dick because you’ve taken dates from me! You don’t even give a shit about any of them because you can’t get over-”

“Don’t!” Shawn warned, raising his voice.

Brian narrowed his eyes. “You’re not over Annalise Flores!”

“Who?” Tiffany asked, bewildered.

Paralyzed with anger, Shawn glared at the other man. The man who was supposed to be his friend. Why couldn’t he just do him this solid?

“Get out,” he said venomously.

“You know I’m right,” Brian sneered.

“Get the fuck out!” Shawn yelled.

He scoffed as he stormed out. Shawn huffed out a sigh, wanting to punch something.

“What the hell was that?” Anna asked, utterly confused. “Who’s Annalise Flores?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he grumbled. “Can you bring me Jocelyne?”

One quick shoulder rub and a redress later, Shawn’s disgruntled state eased a little bit. It was enough for him to fully focus on the beautiful lady he had to impress.

The set went well. It went great, because not long after leaving the stage, Charles the butler found Shawn and led him up to Sapphire’s bedroom. Shawn didn’t get to see much of the party, but that was very, one hundred percent okay.

Most of the mansion's interior was baby pink, but this was an overload. Shawn wandered around the large, pink bedroom as he waited. The walls were made of soft pink felt, and there was a large, sparkling chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The desk against the wall was the same color, along with the laptop and picture frames sat on the surface. The photos in the frames were only of the girl he was waiting for. There was no room for modesty apparently. Shawn was never not going to think of the birthday girl whenever he saw this color.

He went over to the king size bed, draped with the softest velvet covers he's ever felt. The headboard was a metallic pink… with bars. Shawn couldn't deny how exciting that felt. He really couldn't believe someone as breathtakingly attractive as Sapphire could possibly want him.

"Didn't know it was my birthday," he mumbled with a smirk.

"What was that?" a soft, female voice said from behind him.

Shawn jumped as he turned around. There stood the birthday girl, Sapphire, blue eyes wide and expectant.

"Uh, I, I didn't hear you come in," he stammered. Way to keep your cool.

She smiled warmly, fixing the silk robe she was wearing. She was quick to get out of her tight little party outfit, but she still had that sparkly tiara resting on her head. Shawn couldn’t help but notice the perky little nipples poking through the thing material, only adding to the burn in his pants.

Wordlessly, Sapphire moved past Shawn and crawled onto the bed, letting him get a view of her ass. He was about to follow, but her high heel clad foot landed gently on his chest, stopping him.

"Take off your clothes," she ordered, her voice still soft.

Shawn had a feeling he shouldn't challenge her, even though that was something he grew to love and get off on. As he unbuttoned his shirt, he felt his face and chest grow warm; Sapphire's gaze was intimidating, she didn't even blink. She looked at his face, trailing down his body as he removed more of his performance clothes. Her tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth as she watched him drop his briefs and step out of them. Shawn felt mildly embarrassed that he was already hard, but just looking at Sapphire's pretty features made him this way. She already possessed him without even doing a single thing.

And somehow, he couldn't tell if she wanted to fuck him or eat him.

"Don't be shy," Sapphire told him as she curled her finger to get him to join her.

She moved to the side and patted the center of the mattress. Shawn crawled onto the surface and lied down against the pillows. The velvet sheets felt incredibly soft against his skin, heightening his senses.

Sapphire traced the butterfly tattoo on his bicep. The tip of her manicured fingernail left a tiny trail of fire on Shawn's skin.

"I'm so glad you were able to sing at my party," she told him. "And I'm glad you stayed."

"Me too," Shawn replied, trying to keep his voice steady. "Really, really glad."

"I can tell." She glanced down his body, making him blush.

Shawn really wanted to touch her, feel her, learn what makes her tick. He couldn't wait any longer, and it made him feel incredibly juvenile. He hasn't been so easily wound up since his university days.

"Saph-" he tried to say but a finger went over his lips.

"Shh, I know, baby boy." She leaned in close, her nose touching his ear. "I know what you want." Then she gently cupped his chin and turned his head towards hers. "I just need to know how far you're willing to go."

Shawn could barely hear himself. "As far as you want."

Sapphire's glossy pink lips curved up as she leaned in closer. Shawn closed his eyes, taking in her intoxicating flowery scent, craning his neck in the slightest, and then he felt her lips press the quickest kiss on his cheek.

He didn't even have time to breathe before she was straddling his thighs. Smooth hands went up his torso and rested on his broad shoulders, and she was hovering over him. Shawn lifted his hands to cup her pretty face, but she was much faster than him. Sapphire grabbed his wrists and pinned them down.

"No touching," she told him, her voice still soft and borderline innocent. "Understand?"

Shawn nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

She cupped his chin once again, her blue eyes piercing his brown ones. "Use your words."

"I understand."

"Good boy." She patted his cheek. Then, she moved down his body, to his hard cock.

Breathing out, Shawn braced himself for what was about to happen. His eyes fluttered shut as a soft, warm tongue ran up the length, and then his whole cock was engulfed by her soft mouth. His immediate instinct was to place his hands in Sapphire's hair, but he had to follow her single rule. But she also had a lot of pretty blonde hair, and it was covering her face. Shawn couldn't see her mouth move on him, and he really wanted to.

Just as he lifted his hand, Sapphire sat up again, taking in a breath. She looked Shawn in the eyes as she wiped the corner of her mouth.

"I know you wanna touch me," she muttered. "But you'll have to prove that you're gonna listen to me."

He nodded rapidly, and then she was going down on him again. Shawn breathed out a soft moan at the feeling, his fingers curling around the silk sheets. It felt amazing, way too good to be real. His toes curled as he felt her mouth suction lightly, tingles spreading all throughout his body. Tiny little whimpers came out of him as the tingles persisted, causing Sapphire's blue eyes to flicker up to him as she pulled off once again.

"You are so cute," she said, reaching up to cup his chin. "Most guys don't like to make little noises like that. Keep it up."

He couldn't stop the sounds even if he tried.

Sapphire sat up and turned her body, straddling Shawn's thighs. She pushed her robe back from the bottom, letting the smooth material spread over her partner's torso. Shawn felt his cock on her ass, and resisted the urge to move his hips up. He had to be good, had to do exactly what she said.

"So, what do you prefer, little one?" she asked, moving her ass back and rubbing against his cock. "I'm on the pill, but I have condoms here if you want that."

"Mm, no condom," he answered a little too quickly, feeling the need for relief.

Her head turned, so he could see her perfectly sculpted eyebrow quirk a little bit. Then, she sat up on her knees, taking hold of the base and swiftly sinking down on it. She let out a little hiss, and remained still in that position.

"You oka-" Shawn almost got out before choking on his words.

Sapphire very quickly recovered and started bouncing on him. For a moment, the only sound was their skin slapping together, until she pinched his thigh.

“Where are my little sounds, little one?” she asked between pants.

Shawn found himself blushing yet again. What was with that nickname? What did that say about what she thought of him? He was about to ask, but he saw the back of Sapphire’s robe fall, exposing her skin. She was naked under that little robe, and she wasn’t letting him see anything. It was a tease, and only drove him further, causing a little moan to bubble past his mouth.

“That’s it,” she praised, leaning forward on her hands so as to get better leverage. She was practically twerking on his cock, making him want to grab the plump cheeks.

Obscene noises of their skin slapping and Shawn's moaning filled up the room. Sapphire was incredibly talented with her hips, keeping the rhythm steady, and she didn't stop or slow down. The coil in Shawn's abdomen was tightening more and more every minute, making his heart race and his breath hitch.

He rested his hands behind his head, eyes squeezed shut from the feeling. Fuel to the fire were Sapphire's first sounds of the evening. Shawn picked his head up and noticed her arm moving rhythmically in front of her, and he immediately knew what she was doing. God, he wanted see that, and she probably knew that too. She probably picked this position on purpose.

Even after a shaky orgasm, Shawn was still thinking about the ways he wanted to take her. All the things he wanted to do with her. His body was weak and sweaty, and he was catching his breath while Sapphire fixed her robe and plopped down next to him.

Like Kat, she still looked well put together, like all she did was go for a casual stroll. Not even sweating or panting. Sapphire did all the work and all she did was dab at her leftover lip gloss with her finger afterwards.

Shawn was a little confused at this. Why was he the only fucked out mess here? He lifted a hand, his fingers gently touching Sapphire's blonde locks to get her attention.

"Was that good for you?" he asked.

She nodded with a smile. "You did everything right, babe." Then, she took his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, and she lied her head on his chest. "Hell, I might even keep you here a bit longer than planned."

Whatever the fuck that meant, Shawn didn't really give a shit. Looking down at the beautiful socialite in his arms, he realized he wasn't prepared to leave either. And he certainly wasn't thinking of Brian, or his ex-girlfriend.

next chapter

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @justordinaryjen @chillingbythesea @iloveshawnieboi @shawnsunflower @someoneunimportantxx

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes smut #spookytattoosfestival #shawn x oc #shawn meets fic #if this story sucks its bc i lost motivation #n im tryin to finish it anyway #bc im tired of abandoning fics

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passiontaee · 5 years

Text

agust d | m

pairing: yoongi x jeongguk

genre: slice of life

ratings: m

warnings: got some smutty smoot in here ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

word count: 7381

summary: jeongguk is a student and yoongi is a popular underground rapper. jeongguk suddenly becomes obsessed with yoongi thinking it’s because he admires yoongi so much. but after getting to talk to him after serendipitously meeting jeongguk starts wondering if it’s really admiration or something a little more. plus, he sucks yoongi’s dick. many times.

a/n: my first drabble/one shot with smut >:) my best friend doesn’t call me the smut god for no reason

also here’s 7k of yoonkook, ive never written this much in my life so yall are welcome :)

↬ s.

“Guess who’s your best friend?”

Jeongguk turns to look at Taehyung in confusion, but zeroes in on the two slips of paper he sees between his fingers. His instinctual reaction is to make grabby hands at him to see what treasures his best friend is bringing for him, but as he makes an attempt to grab the slips, Taehyung jerks his hand back at the last minute, giggling evilly. Jeongguk hates him.

“You would be if you let me see what’s in your hand?”

“Hm. Yeah probably. Here,” He’s sporting a shit eating grin and Jeongguk is momentarily a little afraid of what he’s got up his sleeve—Taehyung is always finding ways to get them fucked up in a variety of ways and it’s to the point where Jeongguk doesn’t even question it anymore—but he takes one of the slips as Taehyung makes sure the other is still in his possession. Weird flex, but okay. He focuses on the slip in his hand, staring at it before it registers what holy artifact he’s wielding in his possession.

Agust D tickets.

Taehyung, his actual best friend in the whole universe, has managed to snag two tickets to Agust D’s next performance.

“If I was into you I’d get on my knees and suck your dick right now,” he stares up at his best friend with literal sparkles in his eyes. Truly, Taehyung is a rare breed of best friend.

“I mean, you haven’t heard of broblows?”

“Taehyung I’m not sucking your dick.”

Said male holds his hands up in surrender, but his smile is still bright as he stares at Jeongguk, who looks starstruck and amazed. “Yes, but who got you Agust D tickets? You can suck his instead, that’s fine,”

Jeongguk chokes as Taehyung continues. “You know, since you yourself said the D in Agust D stands for dick,”

“I did not!”

“Explain why your YouTube search history is ‘compliations of Agust D’s bulge’ then Jeon. You’re not fooling anyone,” Taehyung leans in to pinch at Jeongguk’s cheek, causing the younger to whine in complaint. How dare Taehyung call him out like this? He swats at him, only making Taehyung laugh more. Pouting, he turns his attention back to the ticket, only for his eyes to bulge out of his head. Taehyung looks at him, momentarily concerned. Opening his mouth to ask what was wrong, but is interrupted by Jeongguk answering without prompting.

“The show is tonight!” He squawks, shooting up and shoving Taehyung away. Almost in a panic as he runs over to his closet. “I don’t have anything to wear,” this is a big deal; he’s meeting his idol and there’s no way he’s walking into the venue looking crusty. Kim Taehyung had lost his mind.

“Alas! That’s the second part of the surprise! Since I love you so much, I managed to go shopping during my time out and I personally bought you something to wear!” he grins, brighter, and points to the door. “It’s in my room though, so go fetch!”

Jeongguk’s sure if he was into Taehyung he’d be on his knees right now.

“There’s so many people in here,” Jeongguk huffs, though stays close to Taehyung. Nearly glued to his back as the elder navigates through the crowd of bodies. He’s already feeling a little exposed in what Taehyung bought for him to wear. Sure, he knows he wears a lot of bland colors—a variety of blacks and whites—but Taehyung had decided he’s getting fucked tonight and had thrown leather pants at him and a snug fitting white shirt. To flaunt your teeny tiny waist, was his excuse, but Jeongguk isn’t at an Agust D concert to get fucked. Unless Agust D himself is throwing out dick then he’s all for it maybe. He wants to cry, but this is a dream come true so he knows he better enjoy this moment because who knows when he’s going to be able to see Agust D again. This close. Thank goodness he’s got a rich best friend, because he’d never thought he’d be getting backstage tickets to see him either.

“Are you nervous?” Taehyung whispers into his ear, reaching for his hand to hold. It’s a common thing he does whenever he senses Jeongguk being uneasy and he’s honestly grown used to it. It’s comforting really, and Taehyung is very perceptive to him. Jeongguk nods though at the question, and Taehyung squeezes his hand comfortingly. “That’s okay. I’d be nervous too if it was like RM or something up there. Agust D is pretty good too though,” he jokes, but everyone and their mother knows how much of a slut Taehyung is for the rapper RM. There’s a lookalike at their school who works in the Literature department as a TA that he was trying to lure into his bed that Jeongguk had met before. Namjoon’s pretty nice. Too nice for Taehyung and far too pure for him. But the words bring him comfort, and he even cracks a smile.

“How much longer til the show starts?” He can’t remember what the bouncer had said, but there’s other people performing. Opening acts from smaller artists that nobody’s really paying much attention to. Some are, but others are only here for the main event.

“Mmmm, maybe half an hour. Give or take a few minutes. I dunno though, these opening acts are pretty sick,” he praises, looking up at the stage at someone who’s up there rapping. He’d seen this person before, knew him from one of his music appreciation classes. Park Chanyeol was pretty popular around campus anyways.

The opening acts come and go, and by the time Agust D comes up they’re already feeling the hype from the previous artists. Not as good as the main event, but him and Taehyung are a bit biased anyways. Jeongguk feels a little more loose, less tense, and he’s sure that Taehyung is probably ready to jump on that stage and rap with Agust D. Leave it to Taehyung to get hype and pull something like that. But thankfully, he doesn’t and Agust D safely arrives onstage. As the opening beats to one of his popular songs begins to play, Jeongguk freezes, a look of excitement and astonishment on his face from being so excited and honored to be here, in this moment, with his best friend as he watches his idol explode on stage. Syllables flying out of his mouth as he raps about his dreams, his ambitions, and their fucked up society. He follows along, grinning the entire time, with sparkles in his eyes as he stares up at Agust D as if he were God himself. He’s having the time of his life, making eye contact occasionally as the ball of fiery energy moves across the stage, accent pouring through with his cut through cyphers. Jeongguk can feel his heart thundering in his chest during all three songs, though it picks up when it’s all over, an Taehyung is bouncing beside him as he follows a group of fans to Agust D’s backstage area. Adrenaline bursts through his body, yet so does a small sense of dread and a bit of fear. He would be meeting his idol. In the flesh. He feels like he’s about to faint.

“Agust D is so cool! Oh my God, I want to have his babies!” a group of girls squeal as their friend shouts this. Taehyung elbows Jeongguk lightly in the ribs, smirking.

“Don’t you want to have his babies too?” His eyebrows wag suggestively, and Jeongguk turns beet red and ducks his head.

“H-hyung that’s biologically impossibl—”

“Next!” A woman with wire framed glasses looks over at them, the group of girls disappearing into the room. It’s their turn next, and said woman eyes them suspiciously almost. They shuffle forward, prompting her to ask their names.

“Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jeongguk. My friend is his biggest fan,” Taehyung blabs. The woman mutters a calm ‘that’s nice’ and nods, peering inside the room. About ten minutes pass before the girls exit, all flustered and giggly. She then turns to them with a grave expression on her face.

“Don’t touch him, no photos. Do not be lewd or anything either. Be respectful and don’t be in there too long. There’s more people behind you so ten minutes max.” She sounds as though she’s reciting from a script, but steps aside to allow them inside. He allows Taehyung to lead the way, not wanting to make a fool of himself. He would be positively mortified if he stumbled and fell on his face in front of Agust D. So it’s best to allow Taehyung to meet him first. No big deal.

He’s not what Jeongguk expects.

Yes, he’d seen him up close and personal from the front row, but seeing him now is entirely different. He’s no longer in his stage attire and has dressed down into an oversized hoodie with a baseball cap covering his ash blue hair, staring lazily at his phone as he sits on a couch. Jeongguk is sure he’s seeing an angel right now, and is unable to sit and admire the tiny man because Taehyung decides, then and there, to open his mouth and introduce them.

“Hello! Oh man, it’s so nice to meet you! I’m Kim Taehyung,” he pulls Jeongguk from behind him, and points at him. “This is my best friend, Jeon Jeongguk. He’s a huge fan.” The blue haired man looks up at them lazily, staring the two men down, then moves to stand. Making his way over to them and holds out a hand for them to shake. Taehyung takes the bait and shakes his hand excitedly but Jeongguks stares at it stupidly. Agust D just blinks at him, waiting for Jeongguk to snap out of his stupidity and just shake his hand. Taehyung, meanwhile, has shuffled away with a sly grin, heading over to the refreshments table. It takes Jeongguk a few moments to buffer before he’s embarrassed, and shakes the man’s hand.

“Sorry,” his voice is soft. He doesn’t catch the quirk of the lips from the rapper who watches him, moving to slide his phone in his pants pocket, then his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. He takes in Jeongguk’s appearance, seemingly pleased, and shakes his head.

“Your friend said you’re a fan, so it’s no big deal. It’s not the worst thing someone’s done when they meet me,” he’s reassuring and Jeongguk wants to dissolve on the spot. Instead, he brings his head back up to make eye contact, meeting Agust D’s intense gaze. His mouth goes dry as he struggles to formulate a sentence. A coherent one at that.

“I uh, your music is really good.” Nailed it. It’s not very eloquent, but the rapper seems to not mind it. Seemingly amused at the blubbering idiot in front of him.

“Yeah? What’s your favorite song?” This gets the cogs in his brain turning as he tries to cypher through the endless soundtrack of Agust D songs in his head, playing them and trying to figure out if he’s even got a favorite. But he finds one and settles on it.

“I like all your stuff, really. Your music just speaks to me on a deeper level. The lyrics are really raw and authentic and anybody who knows music can tell that you did it all by yourself. You don’t sugar coat either. You’ve got some lighter stuff too, and sometimes you sing, but there’s just this intensity in your raps that just really hit me in my chest. Like in your song, First Love. It’s a really emotional piece and it just. . .I dunno. It’s really good. All of your stuff is,” he sounds like a blubbering idiot, but Agust D looks thoughtful. Pleased with his answer and analysis. Jeongguk doesn’t think that anything he said makes sense, but Agust D seems pleased.

“Your friend’s right, you really are a fan,” there’s a grin on his face, and Jeongguk is unsure how to interpret it but something tells him he’s scored major brownie points with his favorite artist.

“That was the shortest ten minutes of my life,” Taehyung complains, bumping into Jeongguk who’s trying his hardest to stick the straw in his matcha. Grumpy because he agreed. It indeed was the shortest ten minutes of his life, but Agust D seemed impressed with him and they had a good conversation. A conversation he wanted to continue, but his time had been up so he’d had to begrudgingly cut the conversation short and leave. Much to his chagrin.

“You were on your phone the entire time,” He fusses, bringing the straw up to his lips. Taehyung shakes his head, seemingly offended but Jeongguk knows he’s not.

“Yeah, to give you time to suck his dick, but obviously that didn’t work.” Cue Jeongguk choking on his drink. They continue walking, heading back to their shared apartment when something slams into his back. He barely is able to process it, turning around and catching someone in a beanie and facemask. Confused and hesitant, he tries to see under the mask, hiked up beneath sunglasses.

“May I help you?”

The person shuffles a little to grab something out of their coat pocket, pulling out a slip of paper and shoves it in his chest. Jeongguk has little time to process it and ask what this was for before the person turns and walks briskly the opposite way. He’s confused, but unfolds the paper to see what’s on it.

An address. A phone number. No name thought? The script is a little messy but he can make out what it says.

Text me. I’d like to meet up and talk some more. -AD

Taehyung, he can feel, bounces behind him. Trying to peer at the cryptic message left by the shady person but Jeongguk’s hand is shaking a little. Was Agust D trying to get in contact with him?

“What is it?” Taehyung whines, trying to make a grab for the paper, but Jeongguk shakes his head and shoves it in his pocket.

“Nothing. Just a note from a girl in my lit class,” he lies, but Taehyung buys it. Grinning and wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

“Ohohohoho, which one?”

Calling. . .

Calling . . .

“Hello?” A smooth voice picks up on the second ring and Jeongguk gulps at the sound. Indeed, it is Agust D and indeed, this person had gifted him with his phone number.

“H-how’d you find me?”

“Oh, that was easy. There’s not many Jeon Jeongguk’s in town and you’re pretty popular. All I had to do was search for you on Naver and boom, got you. It was fairly easy, honestly. I also searched for your friend too, just in case,” This makes Jeongguk a little flustered, as he hadn’t expected Agust D to go into such depth trying to find out where he was and get in touch with him. He’s a little more than fanboying right now. “But, I wanted to continue our conversation some more. You know your stuff,”

“Yeah, I’m a music major so I kind of have to,” he blurts, clutching his phone like a lifeline. The man on the other end makes a noise of surprise.

“Ahhh, music huh? I majored in that too in college. College was meh, but music made it a little better. How old are you anyway?”

“Twenty two.”

“So young. . .,” there’s a sigh on the other end. “I can’t talk for long, but we should meet up at the address I gave you. Sorry for shoving it in your chest like that, I tried to be a little secretive,”

“Wait, that was you?”

“Why would I send someone else to do my dirty work? Of course it was me. Why, are you shocked?” There’s a smirk in his tone that Jeongguk hears quite well, and he goes quiet at it. Chosing to ignore the fact that he’s being teased.

“When do you want to meet?” He responds instead. There’s a pause and a rustling of paper, before Agust D clicks his tongue.

“I’m free tomorrow afternoon. Are you?”

“Yeah, I get out of class at noon.”

“Perfect. Meet me then and we can go get coffee or something,” Jeongguk’s delusional mind races and clenches on the idea of going on a date with the famed Agust D, but he knows that logically this is just them going out to get coffee and discuss music. That’s it, that’s literally all this is. But the delulu in him is jumping out very loudly and he’s making it more than what he is in his head.

He’s a little chilly, but it’s worth it.

Standing outside the building, a small hole in the wall coffee shop in a quieter part of town—the address on the slip of paper—Jeongguk patiently waits for Agust D to show up. So nervous he feels nauseous. The type of nauseated that he knows he’s not going to vomit, but at the same time he still feels that it’s possible. Nervous to make a blunder and nervous to sit and talk to the man that’s the background of his computer. Who he idolizes far too aggressively than he should. But luckily he doesn’t have to wait long, because he’s approached and grabbed by the arm, pulled inside wordlessly. He knows who it is almost immediately and makes no attempt to scramble away. Instead, he tries to memorize how the hand feels wrapped around his forearm—larger than he’d anticipated—and the strength behind the pull. It’s gentle, but firm. Commanding almost. He’s sat at a table in a far corner and Agust D moves to sit across from him. Pulling the mask he’d been wearing down and under his chin, his round cheeks on full display. Jeongguk thinks his brain just melted.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I was on the phone with my manager,” the first thing that comes out of his mouth is an apology. An apology. He almost blurts out that it’s an honor to wait on him and that he’d willingly wait on him hand and foot if he asks, but doesn’t. Instead, he slides his cold hands between his warm thighs to warm them up, chuckling sheepishly.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I wasn’t waiting very long.” He’d really only been waiting maybe five minutes, but he’d wait an hour in the cold for him. He doesn’t admit this though. The ash haired man seems okay with this, pulling out a menu to look at. Jeongguk stares at him, wordlessly. Still unable to believe this is happening. He’s probably staring for maybe three minutes before Agust D speaks up, but doesn’t look at him.

“I don’t think I’m on the menu,”

Jeongguk, flabbergasted, opens and closes his mouth like a fish, dropping his eyes and staring down at his lap like a scolded child. Ignoring the soft laugh that comes from across him as the horror fills him. What is he, a stupid, starstruck teenage girl?

“Here. There’s only one menu and I know what I want. You can get whatever, I don’t mind paying.”

He looks up then staring at the laminated menu slid in front of him for him to look at. On it are an assortment of drinks and snacks, along with pictures. Small ones of the various drinks, the signature drinks in each category. He’s still a little clueless about coffee, so he searches and successfully finds the frappe-like drinks. A safe choice, because he doesn’t want to look even more stupid in front of his idol. When he finalizes what he wants, he looks over at Agust D, who’s typing away on his phone. Seemingly feeling his gaze, he then proceeds to turn his phone off and place is face down on the table. Away and out of sight. His attention then focuses on Jeongguk.

“So, you’re a student, you’re twenty two, and you’re majoring in music. Your best friend is Kim Taehyung and you’re my biggest fan? What else should I know about you then? Or well, what do you want to know about me?” He brings his hands up to lock beneath his chin, both elbows on the table. Jeongguk stares at him, stares at his face, then moves down to his hands, and lastly to the table top as he squirms. He knows quite a bit about him, but isn’t sure what he should ask first.

“Uh. . .what’s your favorite food?”

The question is sudden and makes Agust D laugh a little, taken off guard. Jeongguk wants to cry at how his eyes disappear and his smile brightens when he laughs. This is unfair.

“You’re my biggest fan and you don’t know my favorite food? Jeongguk-ah, I’m disappointed,” he teases, but Jeongguk thinks for a moment he’s serious and stiffens. But then relaxes, mentally scolding himself for being so sensitive. Goddamnit.

“Haha, right,” he gives a light chuckle, kind of nervous. Agust D senses this and leans over, playfully petting his arm.

“Relax, yeah? No need to be all uptight and stuff. You don’t have to be so scared to talk to me. I’m not going to bite or anything,” he’s reassuring, voice soft and even offers a smile. Jeongguk tries to relax a little, knowing he’s right. He can’t be acting like he has something stuck up his ass.

“Oh, and you don’t have to call me by my stage name either. Call me Yoongi for now on.”

Yoongi.

He’s really scored brownie points?

“So yeah, I really think that the pop version of hip hop is a joke. Idols don’t even right their own damn raps so it’s not even real hip hop. And the concepts? Disgusting. Offensive. Electric fucking chair,” Yoongi’s more animated with a bit of caffiene in his system, Jeongguk notices. So is he, but he’s still on his first frappe and is still loosening up by the time Yoongi breaches coffee number two. It’s honestly exciting to see, and though they came here to talk about music, there’s not been much music talk. Mostly Yoongi asking about what he does on a daily, and how his classes are. He’s observant and seemingly interested, and the attention makes Jeongguk a little shy but also it excites him. Never before had he imagined being this close with his idol to the point of getting coffee and sitting and chatting like this. This must be a dream come true?

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Next time you listen to like fucking Seventeen or something, pay attention to their rapping, then think about their rapping and pay close attention to it. Then compare it to like Jay Park or Park Chanyeol or something. Huge difference,” he points out and Jeongguk knows what he’s talking about, but begs to differ, considering he’s a vocalist.

“Mmmm, yeah but different styles. Pop is more vocally, if that makes sense, and what you guys do is more rap based. So of course the pop version is more ‘bubblegum’ because of the style. I don’t think pop is meant to be as hardcore as like hip hop but I do agree some groups don’t execute it well. I’m speaking from the vocalist side of the spectrum,” Yoongi looks at him then, surprised.

“You sing?”

Suddenly, Jeongguk wants to be the floor. The entire fucking floor. Just melt into the floor and become the floor yes.

“. . .yes?”

“How come you didn’t tell me? Honestly, you look like the singing type. And you’ve got a soft voice so honestly I kind of called it. You don’t give off rapper vibes and you’ve got a nice body that looks like you dance, but the vocals thing is kind of obvious,” he brings his cup to his lips to take a sip, as if what he said wasn’t a big deal. It’s a big fucking deal. Yoongi just grilled him, read him, and delivered a verdict.

“I have a nice body?” He stupidly blurts out. Yoongi looks at him then, eyes sharp as he takes in the visible aspects of his body.

“Yeah. Does nobody tell you that?”

Well yeah, but not famous people who he’d willingly let step on him.

“Yeah, sometimes.” Yoongi hums at this, thoughtfully.

“I bet you’re pretty popular with the girls on campus.”

Jeongguk has never been more flustered in his life. It’s not a lie, but in reality he’s popular with everybody.

“I guess?”

Yoongi simply nods thoughtfully, but then smiles at him. It’s almost uncharacteristic but Jeongguk is still blinded by it. It’s even a little sly, and he wonders what the rapper has up his sleeve.

“I’ve got a performance tomorrow night, you and Taehyung should come.” Jeongguk would be a fucking idiot to turn this down. He’s got a paper due in three days but fuck school.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I can get you backstage too. But you’ll be special guests, so you can hang around a little longer. Actually, I’ll make sure you guys get to stay the latest,” Yoongi’s so powerful that Jeongguk almost whines at this. Wow, God is good.

“Uh, okay that’s. . .yeah that would be amazing actually,” he even cracks a smile. At this, Yoongi leans over, a little in his personal space, but Jeongguk doesn’t mind. He can smell his shampoo from this close distance as well.

“After that though, do you want to come over? To my place? We can talk more and stuff.”

Jeongguk swears at that moment his brain shuts off and powers down. The Windows shutdown sound effect has never been louder.

“You must’ve really sucked his dick good to get us better tickets and VIP passes for free,” Taehyung hisses in his ear as they’re finally led backstage for their special VIP treatment. Nearly everyone is gone but Jeongguk knows for a fact that Yoongi isn’t. Neither is his team, but he knows that they won’t bother them. Taehyung is just here as a cover up, because he’s pretty sure that Yoongi had invited him over for one thing and one thing only.

He’s totally not afraid.

Sure, one should be honored that their idol seems a bit interested in them and wants to hook up, but this is Yoongi. This is highly important and it had been a while really since his last hookup. He definitely had to make sure he was prepared for this. He didn’t even know Yoongi was into guys, to be quite honest. So not only was this a surprise, but it was a fucking honor. This special occasion called for his best outfit; more leather courtesy of Taehyung, and an over-sized sweater. Pairing sexy with cute? Perfect. Something in him tells him he’s overthinking this invitation and there’s nothing happening, but the suggestive tone in Yoongi’s voice at the invite tells him otherwise. He’s really about to get his back blown out.

“I haven’t even touched him, you freak,” Taehyung sticks his tongue out at this, wiggling it and causing Jeongguk to smack his arm.

“Please never do that again,” he whines, but Taehyung just laughs, shrugging off the request and marches right into the backstage room. This time, Yoongi seems to be expecting them. Not on his phone and is instead sitting on the couch inside the room, his hairdresser fixing his hair. For what, they don’t know, but his eyes zero in on the two guests as soon as they enter.

“Hey! Thanks for the tickets again. You’re the best,” Taehyung praises, though steps aside for Yoongi to see Jeongguk, knowing that despite his politeness and hospitality, he’s really more interested in Jeongguk. Which is fine, Taehyung’s still trying to slide to RM’s dm’s anyways. But it’s only fair to thank him for allowing them both to come, though this is mostly for Jeongguk.

“No problem. You guys seemed to have a good time last time, so I decided to treat you again. I felt bad that we couldn’t finish our conversation last time,” he looks at Jeongguk again, though they both know that they finished that conversation. Jeongguk bites his lip.

They talk for a while, mostly sharing banter and mostly Taehyung embarrassing poor Jeongguk, but it earns laughter from Yoongi so Jeongguk feels it’s a win win situation for him. But then Taehyung 'mysteriously' leaves them, saying that he'll see Jeongguk later and that he's got an exam in the morning. Jeongguk sees the look that Taehyung and Yoongi share and wonder if Taehyung is in on this plot? But it results in him being left alone with Yoongi, and is the reason why Jeongguk finds himself at Yoongi's apartment later, with a lapful of the rapper who's tongue is shoved down his throat. It escalated quickly, but he can't find it in him to care. Not with Yoongi grinding down directly against his crotch, growling into his mouth. Jeongguk is well aware that he’s a switch, and isn’t sure whether Yoongi plans on fucking him or expects to be fucked, but either way he’s prepared for both scenarios.

“Take. . .this off. . fuck,” hands grope at his sweatshirt, greedy and cold. The feeling of the coolness of Yoongi’s fingers on the sliver of skin revealed from him tugging at the sweater makes Jeongguk’s breath hitch. It’s so delicious, so delightful. He fumbles a little as he blindly removes his hands from where they’d been digging into the rapper’s hips, rocking them back and forth against his own, to pull at his sweater. Pulling away from the softness of his lips to remove it and toss it away.

In the split second of him removing the sweater, he finds his back pressed into the couch, Yoongi hovering over him. Eyes taking in the newly revealed skin now his for the moment. Curious yet experienced hands brush against the smooth, untainted skin. A blank canvas that Yoongi feels he’s free to mark and do as he pleases with. Jeongguk stares back up at him, then down at the pale hands against his chest. Watching as they ghost over the definition of his abdominal muscles, and up to his pecs. Pointer finger of both hands circling the small areolas before brushing against the pinks nipples, already pebbled from the earlier stimulation. He wants to be mortified with the moan that he lets out, Yoongi managing to figure out so early how sensitive his nipples are, but the way Yoongi looks at him has that dissipating. The look in his eyes is hungry, and a little mean. The sadist in him loves it.

“Ah, you’re sensitive huh? Make that noise again for me,” Yoongi’s voice lowers as he focuses on tweaking and pinching the nubs. Thumb and forefinger working together as his head moves down. Peppering warm kisses from the hemline of Jeongguk’s pants across his abs. Over the ridges and grooves as he works his way up. Ignoring how the younger squirms beneath him, bucking up into his touch and whining out squeaky moans as Yoongi gets meaner, less gentle with his musings. At some point he starts biting the skin, sucking hickeys into the smoothness there to mark his territory. Jeongguk’s in heaven, if Yoongi can’t tell.

“Hyung p-please,” he begs, unsure what for. Yoongi finds this amusing, chuckling at the desperation in his voice.

“Please what? What do you want hyung to do?”

Honestly, he doesn’t know. He’s unsure if he wants more of this or if he wants something else. As he’s trying to figure this out, he feels something wet on his left nipple, then a bit of force. When he looks down, he sees fluffy ashy hair.

Ah.

A leg wraps around Yoongi’s waist as he grinds up into him, rutting desperately as his cock swells further into his jeans. It’s uncomfortable and he’s leaking precum. But he dares not tell Yoongi to stop, not at the way his tongue flicks over the pebbling nub like no tomorrow, sending jolts down his spine. Pleasant jolts of lust, of desire. It’s over moments later when Yoongi withdraws, sitting up on Jeongguk’s hips and reaches down to remove his own shirt, tossing it away and bending back down before Jeongguk has a chance to be amazed at the litheness of his body; to take in the pale, pristine skin. He’d seen a tattoo or two in the process of Yoongis stripping and Yoongi leaning back down, mouthing at his neck hotly and whispering filth into his skin. His body is on fire and he’s rock hard. This is a problem that needs to be fixed.

But he can feel the thickness of the rapper’s own erection against his abdomen. Can feel how aroused Yoongi is and is pleased he’d managed to get him as horny as he himself was. He wants to leave marks too, thinks it’s unfair that Yoongi’s greedy mouth is leaving a trail of destruction up and down his body. He plans in his mind to return the favor later, but honestly doesn’t see a problem wielding battle scars from letting Yoongi take him in such a lewd manner. He’d dreamed about this far too many times and wondered was this a one time thing that would mean nothing, but in the time he’d spent in diving in headfirst into the Agust D fandom and in the short span of two weeks of knowing him, he was sure that perhaps he was a bit more than attached, and hoped it meant something deeper than just a quick screw on the couch. As great as this was, he knew he’d be devastated if that’s all this was.

Hands are at the front of his jeans as Yoongi’s mouth presses a trail of kisses up from his neck over his cheek and to his mouth, chuckling against his cupid’s bow. Jeongguk finds himself giggling by reflex as well, hearing the snap of his button and the sound of his belt being unbuckled.

“You ever had your cock swallowed?”

The question confuses him—is he asking had he ever had a blowjob?—and he regrets stopping to think, because when he zones back in with an answer, Yoongi’s scooting down his legs, pulling him by his arms back into a seated position. Moving to kneel in front of him on the floor, focused on getting his pants and boxers as far away from his body as possible. Jeongguk just watches, a little numb and unsure how to help. Yoongi seems to get it though, and shuffles the useless articles of clothing down his legs. Moving closer and leaning in to nose along the length of his cock. Hands on his thighs for leverage. Jeongguk should be embarrassed, but he’s not—oddly enough. He’s far too aroused to be embarrassed about having Yoongi’s mouth so close to him like this.

Yoongi seems to get tired of that, wanting to dive right in. Without using his hands, he stares directly up at Jeongguk, making eye contact, and licks from his balls up to the glistening head of his cock, slowly. Taking in the taste and the texture before bringing a hand to hold it upright. Jeongguk swears, tilting his head back as Yoongi repeats the motions, eyes dropping to focus on the task at hand. Jeongguk spreads his legs apart for better leverage, almost sure he’s going to end up cumming right down Yoongi’s throat in the process of all this.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” he sighs as the rapper starts to wrap his lips around the tip, lapping up the excess wetness coming from the slit then sucks. Slowly, gently. Tongue cushioning the head as he slurps all over it. Sloppy, wet. The sounds echo up to his ears and Jeongguk just groans; the feeling and the sounds a bit too much for him. He wants to grab Yoongi by the head and fuck his throat but they’re not there just yet. Close, but not quite.

After a few moments of teasing, flicking his tongue through his slit and rubbing it all over the bulbous head, he starts to take him inch by inch into his mouth. His cock doesn’t fit all the way initially, but Yoongi seems to know what to do about this. His left hand wraps around what doesn’t fit and he jerks in tandem with his sucking. Bobbing his head up and down. He knows what he’s doing, and Jeongguk wonders should he be a little ticked that Yoongi’s done this before or thankful that he’s not a noob slobbering all over his dick like a teething baby. Honestly, he probably wouldn’t mind if he was new at this, because either way he’s sure he’d enjoy it. One of his hands shoots down to tangle into the pale blue locks shielding his view, lulled by the wet suckling noises and the suction from that heavenly mouth. Swears, praises, and filth pours out of his mouth, eyes scrunching closed as his hips involuntarily buck into the rapper’s mouth. He’s so horny it’s pitiful, and nearly blows his load when Yoongi removes his hand, easing him down his throat. So this is what he meant by swallowing cock.

“F-fuck yeah,” he stammers out, growling a little at the end because it feels heavenly. He’s not sure just yet who’s getting fucked but he knows for certain that if he’s doing the fucking he hopes Yoongi’s ass feels a lot like his mouth. Hot, warm. Tight. He’s nearly positive he’s going to cum like this. It wouldn’t be too bad, he thinks as Yoongi swallows around his length. Yoongi stays still for a moment, before pulling off with a sharp gasp, coughing a little and taking his erection again, jerking it sloppily. Using his own saliva as lubrication.

“You like that?” Jeongguk nods stupidly. Bucking into that fist desperately. “You gonna cum?” He nods again. Yoongi seems pleased by this, and takes in a breath really quickly. Preparing himself for what he’s about to do.

“Fuck my throat til you cum then. And then after I’ll return the favor.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know how to take this at the moment, too busy trying to get Yoongi’s mouth back on him, but knows that he’s glad he’d attempted to prep himself earlier. Yoongi takes that moment to give him what he wants, starting slowly from the tip and moving down. Inch by inch just like before but it’s a little quicker than last time. He gags, but stays down a little longer. Digging his nails into Jeongguk’s meaty thighs as if to tell him to go ahead. Jeongguk can feel his throat relax, and takes that as the green light to start. So he moves his hand back to his hair, his other following closely behind to tangle into the slightly dry strands. Getting a grip first before he rolls up, sending a sharp thrust down the rapper’s throat. He hears a gag, feels the hands tightening on his thighs almost as a warning, but for a moment he feels daring and does it again. And again, and again until he’s got a decent rhythm, chasing his orgasm which is shockingly close. He’s not even mad, considering this is the best blowjob he’s had in a while, and well. It’s Yoongi. He’s lasted longer than he’d anticipated, he thinks, but it only takes a few thrusts before his body tenses and he hisses out a sharp Yoongi as he cums in spurts down the rapper’s throat. Holding him there for a moment before Yoongi’s shoving at him.

He releases him then, but Yoongi doesn’t shove him away. No, what he does instead is move to lick up his release, then sucks the remnants directly from his cockhead. Jeongguk’s sensitive, but that doesn’t make him shove Yoongi away.

When Yoongi finishes, he looks up at him, licking what had spilled onto the crease of his lip away as he makes eye contact with the younger, who’s trying to get a grip. Chest heaving up and down as he pants. Yoongi moves to stand, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him to stand. He nearly stumbles, but Yoongi either doesn’t pay attention or chooses not to comment. Instead focused on pulling his head down so that he can lick into his mouth, allowing Jeongguk to taste himself on his tongue.

“Get all the way out of your clothes,” he breathes the command against Jeongguk’s mouth, and he wastes no time kicking the clothes away. Allowing himself to be led by Yoongi’s mouth as the rapper starts to fumble with his own belt, backing them towards his bedroom—or so Jeongguk thinks.

“You two are so gross,” Taehyung complains, sitting across from Jeongguk and Yoongi who’re cuddled up into each other. Its gross, really. Jeongguk rolls his eyes, leaning into Yoongi more who’s arm tightens around his waist to keep him close. Taehyung pouts.

“Are you jealous that you didn’t meet RM and end up dating him?” Jeongguk’s playful, grinning cheekily at his fussy friend who just looks away, the answer obvious as he picks up his iced tea and loudly sips from it.

“I’m actually really good friends with Namjoon, I can hook you guys up,” Yoongi tries to be helpful, reaching for a potato chip. Shoving it in his mouth. Both Jeongguk and Taehyung stare at him. Flabbergasted. Yoongi looks up at them slowly, back and forth between the two.

“What?”

“Namjoon is fucking RM?!”

Yoongi looks confused. “No? Namjoon is RM. Wait, how do you know Namjoon?”

Taehyung lets out a screech which draws attention to them, grabbing his head in both hands and laying it on the table. Jeongguk simply laughs as Yoongi looks at them in confusion, obviously left out of the loop and mortified at the noise that came from Taehyung.“He’s our TA for our lit class. Taehyung’s been ogling him since he walked in and never put two and two together. Small fucking world,” Jeongguk cackles, reaching for his soda as Taehyung lays his head on the table, having what appears to be an existential crisis. Yoongi still doesn’t understand, but finds it funny nonetheless.

“Hyung, please get me backstage tickets. I need them.”

“I don’t know about that. Not everybody hits it off backstage like we did. Plus, I think Namjoon likes someone else,” The look on Taehyung’s face is priceless. Even Jeongguk looks a little sad about that, but Yoongi laughs, shaking his head.

“I’m kidding. We can do a double date or something. Just don’t be too much of a, whatever you are, or you might scare him away,”

“Do you mean a thirsty hoe?”

“Yeah that,”

“Guys, I’m right here,” Taehyung whines, straightening up. He thinks for a minute, before looking at Yoongi with puppy dog eyes.

“Hyung pleaseeeee. I’ll love you forever,” he begs. Yoongi pretends to think about it, but acquises and hands him his phone.

“Here’s his number. Don’t be weird about it or you might scare him away,” he instructs, but Taehyung simply snatches the phone and gets up, waddling away with it pressed to his ear. Yoongi sighs, then looks at Jeongguk.

“You weren’t like this, were you?” he asks as Jeongguk shovels two fries into his mouth. He feels caught, nearly chokes, but then shakes his head as he washes it down with his soda.

“No. I was less eager to meet you,” he admits, averting his eyes. “I was scared I’d fuck up and you’d hate me.”

“Nonesense,” Yoongi insists, stealing one of Jeongguk’s fries. Jeongguk rolls his eyes.

“It’s not everyday you meet your idol, you know. I was scared I’d make a fool of myself and you’d kick me out or something,” Yoongi seems to think this over, but snorts.

“You made a fool of yourself and I ended up fucking you until you screamed like a wanton bitch so honestly you had nothing to worry about.”

Jeongguk chokes on his soda, sputtering out and wheezing at this. Taehyung returns then, smirking as he slides back in the booth in front of them, handing over the phone.

“I have a dick appointment with RM tomorrow at 7. Jeon, I need to borrow those leather pants you used when you and Yoongi-hyung fucked.”

Jeongguk chokes again.

↬ x.

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#bts fics #bts fic #yoonkook drabbles #yoonkook smut #rapper yoongi #agust d #student jungkook #platonic taekook #taekook as best friends #yoonkook

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theydontknowaboutusimagines · 5 years

Text

Your Love - Harry Styles AU (Part 34)

Part 33

After a few hours of being on the road, Harry arrived at the house, everyone would be staying at for the festival. The festival was only a few minutes walk away, so the sound of the band currently playing could be heard all the way at the house.

“Uh, how many people are staying here?” George asked.

“Like ten... maybe twelve,” Harry said putting the car in park.

“Wow,” George said looking at the size of the house.

It wasn't huge by any means, but it also wasn’t a tiny house either.

“It’ll be fine,” you rolled your eyes. “We’re not going to be staying there that long anyway. We came for a music festival, remember.”

“So, is this supposed to be like Coachella?” George asked getting out of the car.

“I mean, I guess,” Harry shrugged. “It’s just a music festival.”

“Good, I hate Coachella,” George said.

“He had a bad experience last year,” you giggled.

“Can we not bring this up?” he groaned.

Harry looked over at you raising his eyebrow, “I’ll tell you about it later,” you smirked.

“I heard that!” George mumbled.

You laughed walking to the back of the car and taking the bags out.

“Is anyone here yet?” You asked.

“A few,” he nodded. “But they’re at the festival and there are a few more coming later tonight.”

You nodded following Harry into the house. You smiled taking everything, “It’s cute.”

“It is,” George nodded. “How are the rooms going to work?”

“Um, basically we just find empty rooms and claim them,” Harry said.

“Sweet!” He smirked taking his bags and going on the search.

You looked over at Harry, “Sorry about him. He can be a little much, when you’re not used to it.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said.

“Once you know him, he either calms down or maybe you just get immune to it, I don’t really know,” you laughed. “But he’s a really great guy and friend. He’s been there for me whenever I need him.”

“I can tell,” Harry smiled. “Come on, let’s go find ourselves a room.”

Once you found a room, everyone quickly freshened up, changed clothes before heading to the festival. Harry laced your hands with his as you walked. You smiled over at him and he smiled back. George was walking behind you two, taking photos on his phone.

“Wow, this place is really cool,” George said. “Thanks for inviting us, man.”

“No problem,” he smiled. “I’m just glad I could invite you two to something this time.”

“Hey,” you said. “You know that doesn’t matter, right?”

“I know, “ he said. “But still I like being the one to take you someone where for once.”

“Well, I love being here,” you smiled kissing his cheek.

He smiled kissing your head before you all went in search for his group of friends. A few minutes later, you all approached a group of about six people that were eating some food from one of the nearby food trucks. You recognized some of them from your time at the radio station, but the others you hadn’t really seen before.

“There he is!” One of them smirked seeing Harry walking up.

“Hey man,” Harry said doing the one arm hug thing.

“And I’ve seen you brought some friends,” he said nodding towards you and George.

“I have,” Harry nodded. “This is George and my girlfriend -”

“Y/N,” his friend finished.

“Right,” Harry laughed.

“Hi,” you smiled waving at them. “I hope you don’t mind us crashing.”

“Not at all,” he smiled. “The more the merrier.”

“Thank you,” you smiled.

“So, we’ve just stopped to have a bit of lunch. Then we’re going up to the main stage,” he said. “Feel free to hang with us or frolic as you like. We’ll meet up at the gates before we head back to the house.”

“Sounds good,” Harry nodded.

His friend went back with the others before they all headed towards the stage. You found it a bit odd that the others didn’t say hello, but you tried not to think anything of it.

“So, what shall we eat?” You asked.

“There’s a fish and chip truck,” he said. “They’re quite good. Or a sandwich one over there.”

“Hm, they all smell delicious,” you said.

“Well, we could try a different once each day,” he smiled.

“Now, that sounds like a plan,” George smirked.

You laughed following Harry over to one of the food trucks.

The sun had set and stars filled the sky. You were having a time of your life, just living in the moment. No one had really come up to you and asked for pictures or anything, which you were happy about. You didn’t want to bring attention to yourself and the group, since you were definitely feeling a little unwanted. But you weren’t letting it bother you because, honestly, all that matter was you spending time with your boyfriend.

And that you were.

The current band that was playing, was one that you hadn’t heard before. A lot of the bands playing that night you hadn’t heard of, since they were mostly large in the UK and Europe. Harry had his arm around your shoulders as he held you against him. You smiled feeling at home in his arms. Nothing else matter. You weren’t thinking about anything else or worrying about anything.

George was having a great time as well. He had found the bar and a cute friend, which is exactly what was on his agenda. You knew he wouldn’t do anything stupid like go off with a stranger, plus you could still see him out of the corner of your eye. You both always had a rule when going out with each other. You two could do your own things if you wanted, but you always had to stay with in eye sight of one another.

“Are you having a good time?” Harry whispered in your ear.

You smiled, “I am,” you said looking back at him. “What about you?”

“It’s definitely better having you here,” he smiled.

“Duh,” you joked.

He laughed pressing his lips down on yours. You smiled placing your hand on his cheek as he deepened the kiss. All of a sudden, there was this huge flash. You didn’t think anything of it at first because you thought it was the lights from the stage. But then, the flashes kept coming and now people were shouting.

You and Harry pulled away from one another to the sight of a small crowd of people with their phones pointed at you.

“Y/N! Y/N!” They shouted. “Can we get pictures!”

“Oh my god! Is that your boyfriend??”

What started as a small crowd soon started to grow larger, especially since the bands were in-between sets now. George saw what was going on and quickly left the person he was talking to, heading over to you. Harry sort of froze, while his friends stared on annoyed.

“Harry!” Nick said rushing over. “We have to get her out of here.”

Harry snapped out of it. He and Nick started pushing through the crowd of people, while George was covering you as you all walked through the crowd. It had been so long since you had been bombarded like this without your security team. You could feel your stomach in your throat now and tears started forming in your eyes.

The crowd didn’t seem to be that large, but it felt like it was taking forever for you to get through and get some air.

“Fucking move!” Nick shouted as more people started putting their phones in your face.

After what seemed like several minutes, all of you were finally out and security was finally coming over to disperse the crowd. You followed Harry and Nick towards the gates and as soon as you were out, you finally felt safe.

“Oh my god,” Harry said coming over to you. “Baby, are you okay?”

“I-I” you whispered.

You couldn’t form words and you didn’t realize your body was shaking until someone pointed it out.

“She’s shaking,” George said. “We need to sit her down.”

They found a private spot and carefully sat you down. Nick had some water and handed it to you.

“Here you go, love,” he said.

You felt hands rubbing your back and saw that it was Harry. He kissed your head and you just took small breaths.

“How did that even happen?” Harry sighed.

“All it takes is one person,” George sighed. “One person spots her and then everyone else starts noticing.”

“Does this happen a lot?” Harry asked.

“Not like this. It hasn’t been that bad in years,” he answered. “But she usually has security when she’s in big crowds like this.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asked looking at you.

You shrugged still not being able to speak.

“Do you want to go back to the house?” Harry asked.

You nodded.

He kissed your head, “We’re going to go back, you two can stay if you want.”

“Actually, mate, I’m going to head back too, if that’s okay,” Nick said.

“Me too,” George said.

Harry nodded, helping you up. “Want to ride on my back?” He asked.

You put your hands on his shoulders and jumped on his back. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and you placed your head on his shoulder as you all walked back to the cottage.

#One Direction Imagines #Harry Styles Imagines #Harry Styles AU #Your Love

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