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hermannsthumb · 3 years

Note

I have a fun prompt I've been thinking about I hope you have time for one day! When Newt and Hermann meet actually things go really really well and they even get together. It's just they bicker so much and have huge science-based arguments that everyone assumed they must have hated each other on sight.

sure thing! i had fun with this one

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"So," Newt says. "I was talking to Tendo today."

Across the mess table, Hermann hums in feigned interest. Newt knows it's feigned 'cause Hermann doesn't stop either thing he's doing: using his left hand to wind noodles around a fork, and using his right hand to scribble away a series of lengthy equations on the back of a paper napkin. His full attention has been hopping between both for about ten minutes now—no room for Newt to slip in there. He's testing his limits enough as it. Half of the last equation ended up scratched into the tabletop, and the last time he lifted his fork to his mouth, it was empty. And then he swallowed anyway. Newt kinda loves the guy.

"Yeah," Newt says, deciding to continue like Hermann responded the way he was actually supposed to respond, which would've been something along the lines of what an utterly fascinating story, Newton, do tell me more. I love hearing you talk, Newton. How marvelously smart you are, Newton, and how melodic and breathtaking your voice is. Now watch me bite down on an empty fork again. "Kinda funny. He was asking how we met."

Hermann finally looks up at Newt suspiciously over the rims of his glasses, which are slipping slowly down his nose. He stills them with the tip of his index finger before they land in his dinner. "Why?"

"I don't know, man," Newt says. "He just was. It was like, small talk, you wouldn't get it. He dropped by the lab when you were out this morning to let me know that there was extra space if we wanted it. Like, lab space." Hermann resumes scratching an equation into the table absently. Newt rolls his eyes. "As in, we could have separate labs if we wanted now."

Hermann knits his eyebrows together. "Separate laboratories?"

When Newt and Hermann first started at the Hong Kong Shatterdome, the k-scientist team was pre-existing and significantly bigger, and anyone who joined on later—like, you know, them—basically got shoved in wherever they fit. For Newt and Hermann, that happened to be Laboratory Space D, Basement Level 1 (the only basement level), along with a former marine biologist who was killed on a research excursion a month later when a kaiju made unexpected landfall, like, right on top of their chosen shelter. Bad luck. Anyway, Newt's known about the existence of other Hong Kong Shatterdome lab spaces in the vague and absent sort of way that you would an urban legend, but (similarly so) he never thought he and Hermann would actually ever lay eyes on one. And then Tendo stopped by to dangle it in front of Newt on a stick.

"The other labs were being used as storage for ages after everyone else—" Newt searches for a word tasteful enough to encapsulate got stomped by a kaiju and wised up and decided to live out what are probably our last few days before the world ends with their families instead of alone in a military bunker. "—left. Anyway, Tendo told me they've been going through shit like crazy this month, I think to see if they can salvage any old tech, and that the other labs are basically totally emptied out now. We just have to ask and they're ours."

Hermann sets down both his pen and fork, twisting his mouth contemplatively. He finally loses the battle against gravity with his glasses, and they miss his plate by an inch, swinging back on their chain and bouncing harmlessly against his chest instead. Newt briefly wonders if getting a chain for his own glasses would save them from their frequent fatal falls into kaiju organ cavities and buckets of non-neutralized kaiju blood, but decides not even the money he'd save on replacement pairs would make a fashion faux pas like that worth it. "You know I don't much fancy the basement," Hermann says.

"Your joints," Newt agrees. The damp of the basement sets Hermann's joint pain off frequently, something Hermann talks about just as frequently. Newt's not really a fan of the basement either, though for different reasons—he would kill to get some windows and natural, non-fluorescent light in there. Sun lamps can only do so much. He's pretty sure he'd fucking glow if he stepped outside right now. Also, it's cold down here.

"And it might be nice to be closer to LOCCENT, in case of an emergency," Hermann continues. "And closer to—oh, hang on. What has this got to do with us?"

"Huh?"

"How we met," Hermann says. "You said, that Tendo asked—"

"Oh," Newt says. It's his turn to play coy. He stirs his chopsticks through his own dinner, accidentally flicking a piece of tofu to the table. It lands on top of Hermann's etched equations. Hermann scowls, because that's how their routine goes: Newt gets Hermann's stuff dirty, and Hermann gets mad. "Well. It was just that Tendo was like you can finally be out of each other's hair, how the hell did you guys get stuck together anyway when you obviously can't stand each other, that kind of stuff."

"Ah," Hermann says.

"And I said that it was because we knew each other before," Newt says, "and that we transferred here together. And that's when he asked."

"And what did you say?" Hermann says.

"That we used to correspond professionally," Newt says, "and met at a conference way back in 2017." He adds, with a grin, "Also professionally."

This was technically true. Newt and Hermann did write to each other, professionally, and they did meet at a conference, professionally, but what went down after a long and public shouting match in the events hall of a very nice hotel—in Hermann's room, five floors up in that very nice hotel—was not very professional. The events of the week that followed—spent, intermittently, between Hermann's hotel room, several coffee shops, a bench under a tree in Newt's favorite park, a rotation sushi restaurant, brushing knees shyly on the tram, and, finally, clasping hands on the staircase of Newt's apartment and gazing deeply into each other's eyes—weren't very professional, either, but Newt likes to think that they were very romantic. Rom-com level shit. Newt revealed none of this to Tendo, who referred to the 2017 conference as that Infamous Day for the rest of their conversation. "Well, it was professional," Hermann sniffs.

But he reaches across the table, and, very timidly, crosses his pinkie over top of Newt's. It's the most blatant form of PDA Hermann ever willingly engages Newt in. Newt thinks if he ever tried to touch two fingers at once in anywhere but the lab, or God forbid, hold his whole hand, Hermann's ears might start emitting steam like something out of a cartoon. "It might be nice," he says again.

Laboratory Space D, Basement Level 1, is unique—Newt knows—in that Newt and Hermann's quarters are connected to it directly. None of the other labs have that luxury (and Newt has a feeling it's because Lab Space D wasn't actually intended as a lab space). He remembers being told that when they were shoved into it. Yeah, you have the darkest and tiniest lab space on base, but your rooms are right there! When Newt wants to go to Hermann's room, or if he's in Hermann's room and needs a sweatshirt or something from his own, he just has to step the three feet between their two doors. Moving labs could throw a wrench in that—they might be asked to move quarters, too, and might be shuttled to opposite sides of the Shatterdome, and though they could just bite the bullet and request couple's quarters already, it's nice to have their own spaces when they need it. That would never work. And, well, besides—the lab, their lab, feels like home to them at this point. Newt shrugs.

"On the other hand," Hermann says, and he taps Newt's pinkie lightly, "I quite like how things are. I can live with the damp, really."

"We can get a dehumidifier," Newt offers.

Hermann nods, and he gives Newt the barest hint of a smile.

Their monthly delivery of lab supplies—whatever they can afford with their shoestring budget, which, these days, mostly means chalk, rubber gloves, and nice instant ramen—comes three weeks later. Newt wouldn't exactly call the Shatterdome delivery guy a friend, seeing as he has yet to divulge his name to Newt (and also Newt's pretty sure he has a thing for Hermann, since he always seems to wait until Hermann is in the lab to stroll by with his package trolley and always calls him Dr. Gottlieb with big stupid heart eyes, oh, Dr. Gottlieb, that new sweater looks soooo nice on you!, so anyway, that makes him Newt's rival by default), but he, at least, recognizes and acknowledges Newt at this point. That's more than Newt can say for most people on the base. After his usual greeting to the two of them (hey, Newt, oh, hellllooo, Dr. Gottlieb, did you do something new with your hair?), he starts to unload their packages, also like usual.

"I was surprised to see that you guys are still down here," he tells Newt, not like usual. "Tendo mentioned something about you getting your own labs."

"He did?" Newt says, meaning to frown, but grinning instead. It's kind of fun to be the subject of gossip. He pulls off his gloves and tosses them in the trash to help with their supplies—the dehumidifier he requested should be in there, and it's fancy and definitely on the bigger side.

"Yeah," their delivery guy continues. He hands Newt a fuckin' massive brick of a package. Hermann's stupid chalk. The amount that Hermann tears through in a month really is astounding: Newt has a private theory that Hermann is an undercover space alien from a planet where chalk constitutes all of the primary food groups, and he secretly sneaks out here and eats it in the dead of night when Newt is asleep. "Anyway, sorry I'm late," the delivery guy says, as Newt imagines Hermann crunching on a piece of chalk like a carrot stick, "I went to all the other labs first."

"No worries, dude," Newt says. "Sorry for the confusion."

He lugs the package over to Hermann's desk, and drops it down on the only spot not over-cluttered with papers and books. Hermann complains about Newt's messiness a lot for a guy who is just as bad, if not worse. "Need any now?" Newt asks Hermann.

Hermann, scribbling away at his chalkboard, grunts. Newt decides that's a no.

"Hard at work, Dr. Gottlieb?" the delivery guy says, practically fluttering his eyelashes.

Another grunt. Newt snorts.

"I thought you guys would've moved right away," the delivery guy (obviously disappointed at Hermann's lack of attention) tells Newt. "Tendo mentioned you've been stuck together for a while, ever since some sort of dramatic confrontation at a conference ten years ago." he adds eagerly, "Did you really get thrown out? I don't know how you haven't killed each other yet."

"It's taken a lot of hard work," Newt says. Yeah, the whole being-ejected-from-the-conference-and-barred-from-all-future-ones-forever thing is technically true too, but everyone there was too stuffy and serious for Newt's fun vibes anyway, so he thinks it's their loss. The most important part of the scientific breakthrough process, Newt frequently thinks, was having someone there to challenge you and push back at you. Sometimes loudly. And in public. In the conference hall of a very expensive hotel, in front of all of your scientific peers, some hotel security guards, and a poor graduate student who made the mistake of asking you and your penpal-colleague for your joint opinion on something and got caught in the crosshairs. Besides—out of everyone at that stupid conference, Newt and Hermann were the only ones snapped up by the PPDC, so it's doubly their loss. "And, yeah, we got thrown out. Me and Hermann fight a lot, but we always make up eventually. It's no big deal. It's, like, our thing."

"Make up?"

Newt waggles his eyebrows and doesn't elaborate. The making up part is the best part of arguing with Hermann, honestly, but he's not about to go giving private details about stuff like that to his rival.

By the time Hermann finally descends his ladder, three hours have passed, and Newt is frowning over an email he's just gotten from Shatterdome HR. Hermann will probably see it in a second when he checks his own email—it was sent to both of them, after all—but Newt waves him over to his desk anyway. "Look," he says.

He draws out the spare chair he keeps by his desk (for Hermann), and Hermann drops into it gratefully, propping his cane up against the arm. Then Hermann pushes his glasses up onto his nose and scans the email with a frown of his own. Newt reads it aloud for him anyway. "'Subject: Quarters Reassignment,'" he says. "Dear Drs. Geiszler and Gottlieb: It has recently come to our attention that you will be transferring to Laboratories A&B. Should you wish to transfer quarters as well, you will find the necessary paperwork..."

"By Jove," Hermann groans, and pulls his glasses off again, smudging a bit of chalk on his cheek, "can't they just leave us alone?"

Newt laughs. "I'll tell them we're not interested. Wait, listen to this bit at the end: Congratulations—this must be a relief! Guess they were getting your complaint forms after all, Hermann." Both Newt and Hermann had long-since assumed that any and all official complaint forms stamped with a k-sci lab return address are filed right into the garbage. It's never deterred Hermann from sending them in, though.

"Hmph," Hermann says.

Newt carefully rolls his shirtcuff back down to his wrist and uses it to rub off Hermann's chalk smudge. When it's gone, or at least, mostly gone, he brushes his fingers back through Hermann's short hair. Hermann's eyelids flutter shut, and as he leans into Newt's touch, his creased forehead smooths just a little. "Mm. You're lovely," he murmurs. "We really ought to tell them we're married. It's gone on long enough."

"I guess," Newt says. "But it's kind of funny, isn't it?"

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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axoxtxhxh · 3 years

Text

First Date with the Vets - Erwin

Big shoutout to @chaotic-nick for making this lovely banner for me!

Overall Summary: I had this idea to do a first date with the vets and what it would be like. I am including Erwin, Levi, Miche, and Hange in this list. Each date will be different, but all of them will be set in modern au.

Check out Miche’s story here, Levi’s story here, and Hange’s story here

Pairing: Erwin x Fem!Reader

Content: Nearly all fluff

Word Count: ~ 6,100

Summary: Reader is on her way home to get ready for her blind date when she runs into a handsome stranger on her way home. On her way up to her apartment to get ready, the elevator breaks down with her and the handsome stranger stuck inside.

You were a little over a block from home, nearly running with your small bag from the convenience store clutched tightly in your hand. You hated running late. It didn’t really matter what the scheduled engagement was, you made it a point to always be the first one to show up. Today’s engagement was no different, but leave it to you to rip a hole in your pantyhose as you were getting dressed.

Your best friend, Fen, had set you up on a blind date with one of her co-workers. You hated blind dates, not to mention Fen had terrible taste in men. She had been begging you to at least meet him for a couple months now, but you kept finding reasons not to. The last time she asked, you ran out of reasons. So here you were, running back home ten minutes before he was supposed to arrive. With any luck, he will be as terrible as you expect and show up late, maybe not at all.

You turned down an alleyway, trying to save time by cutting through the side streets and picked up speed seeing your apartment building up ahead. The shortcut was quickly turning out to be a bad idea. There was only one streetlight all the way at the end and you couldn’t see anything, especially the puddle you barely missed, splashing dirty water on your leg. Perfect.

You rounded the corner quickly, ready with your key in your hand to unlock the lobby entrance when you slammed into the back of a large body standing in front of the door. Pushed back by the impact, you dropped your keys and bag on the floor, the cheap convenience store pantyhose rolling to the feet of the person you slammed into.

“Oh gosh. I’m sorry.” You reached down to pick up your stuff when the hand of the person reached it before you. A very large, strong hand with perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around the small plastic case of your pantyhose, holding it up to you.

Your eyes followed up his long arms. You could see how well-built he was even through the brown suit jacket he wore over a white button-down shirt, the top buttons undone so you could see the top of his strong chest. He had to be at least 6’2. Tall and broad.

“It’s my fault.” His ocean-blue eyes sparkled as his lips curled into a smile revealing his bright, white and honestly, dazzling smile. You almost giggled at the sight of him. “I shouldn’t make a habit of lurking in doorways.”

“It’s—uh, it’s not a problem.” You smiled, your eyes locked with his while you fumbled with your keys. Any other night. Any other night you could have stayed and chatted with this handsome stranger. But instead you had to race upstairs to finish getting ready. Your miserable Friday night was getting worse.

You finally fit your key into the keyhole and got the door unlocked, pushing it open. The handsome stranger helped you, holding it open and holding his hand to his stomach as he gestured you through. Damn, he even smelled good.

You moved quickly to the elevator, pushing the call button and trying not to focus on the handsome stranger following closely behind you.

“If you’re going to anything lower than the fifth floor, you might as well take the stairs,” you recommended, looking up to him, “this elevator takes so long, you could probably get there faster by walking.”

“I appreciate that information.” He smiled, pulling out his phone and clicking quickly, scrolling through. You used the opportunity to look at how you looked through the elevator doors.

What a hot mess you were in that moment. Your hair was a mess, your face red and sweaty, the bulky man’s coat you grabbed quickly on your way out the door hung on you like your dad’s t-shirt when you a child. The only redeeming thing about your look was your skirt. You had just bought the camel pencil skirt you were wearing a couple days ago, finding the high-slit a bit too sexy for your office, but it worked perfectly for a date night. The bottom hem shared the same dark stain from the rainwater as your legs and shoes did.

You sighed. Your shoes. You had on some old sneakers, knowing you needed to make the quick run to the store. It could have been that cute sexy-casual look if your shoes had still been white. Now they were brown and grey and smelled like a wet dog. Any chance you had in imagining this Greek god standing next to you would give you a second look were thrown out the window.

You could now see how well he was dressed. He had that dark academia look about him that made you weak. His slim-fit tweed herringbone pants accentuated the length of his legs and somehow made him look even taller, his blonde hair perfectly parted and smoothed back. He looked up from his phone and put it in his pocket.

“Looks like I’ll be taking the elevator with you.” He turned to look at you. “If you don’t mind the company.”

“Of course not.” You smiled back, biting your lip to hide your excitement. Maybe the night would be picking up after all.

The elevator dinged and the doors creaked open shakily. He held his arm out again, gesturing you inside first. It was honestly a bit unfair at how much of a gentleman he was. You dipped your head down and scurried in to hold the doors for him.

He stepped in after you and you pressed the close-door button, followed by eight, your floor. Turning to him, you noticed him staring at the buttons and asked which floor he needed.

“Eight as well.” He put his arms behind his back, and looked back at the door. You turned to face the door, mirroring him as you thought about which lucky woman on your floor was getting a visit from him. Possibly lucky man? Either way, someone was going to be having a great Friday night.

You filled your cheeks with air, puffing them up as you tried not to let yourself glance at him through the elevator doors. The building was old, the elevators dark, but it really was only the two of you and you were sure it seemed pretty obvious that you were staring.

Your eyes moved up to the numbers indicating which floor you were passing. Still only at the third floor, you let yourself peek at him from the corner of your eyes then turned your whole head when you thought he was staring at you. It turned out, he was only staring at the numbers and he quickly turned his eyes to you when he saw you turn to look at him. Damn it, you did that uncomfortable thing. You smiled and hoped that you seemed friendly and not creepy and stalker-like.

“You were quite right about the speed of the elevator.” He chuckled, a low hum that vibrated off the walls. “It’s exceptionally slow.”

You looked back at him, his teeth gleaming even in the darkness of the elevator. Was he trying to make small talk? You smiled to yourself at the attempt, assuming that’s what it was.

“It’s a pretty old buil—” The elevator slammed to a halt and cut your sentence short, both of you falling back. You reached for the rail next to you to brace yourself. The elevator lights flickered before turning off, seconds passing before the emergency lights came on.

“I take it that’s not supposed to happen.” You turned to him and shook your head.

“This is not happening.” You said aloud, more to yourself than anything. You were already running late and now this? You moved to the elevator buttons and started pushing them randomly, knowing they wouldn’t work, but hoping that your frustration was enough to get it started.

“I’m not getting a signal.” The man was holding his cell phone up in the air, trying to get a signal. “Do you want to try yours?”

You nodded and pulled out your cell phone. No bars. You tried holding it up, not reaching nearly as high as he was able to and finally trying to jump a little, trying to catch the reception you hoped sat at the ceiling. The man just stood there smiling at you until you finally noticed and you quickly turned away to hide your embarrassment.

“Maybe the phone here.” You opened the phone box to check inside only to find it empty and you dropped your head. “Damn it.”

This was even worse than how you had already thought your night was going to go. You checked your phone. You were definitely late now. Not only late, you were trapped in an elevator with no way of alerting someone that you were even there at all. Maybe Fen was right. Maybe you should have spent more money to move to a newer apartment building. You loved your little block though. Your apartment may have been old, but it was cute and had character. It was quiet on the weekends and it made the commute to work so much shorter than where you used to live. A cute apartment wasn’t helping you then though.

You heard a small sigh come from behind you and you turned around to see the man sitting on the floor. You didn’t think you were giving him any sort of look, but he stared at you for a second and then jumped up.

“My apologies.” He stuck his hand forward towards you. “My name is Erwin.”

“Y/N.” You took his hand which was surprisingly soft and gentle for someone his size.

“Y/N.” Erwin repeated. “Well we might as well get comfortable. I imagine someone will figure out the elevator stopped running soon enough.”

He sat back down on the floor, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing one foot over the other. He set his hand down on the area next to him and looked up at you.

“Would you like to join me?” He smiled and there was no way you were saying no to that.

One hour passed by remarkably fast. The two of you sat on the elevator floor and chatted about your jobs and where you grew up. At some point, both of your stomachs were growling and you opened up your big purse, pulling out some water and snacks. Erwin’s thick eyebrows lifted as you continued pulling out exactly what was needed.

“I like to come prepared.” You smiled shyly, hoping he wasn’t judging you.

“What else do you have in that magical bag of yours?” He scooted closer and you pulled out a bouncy ball, an old bus pass, your work keycard and a folded piece of paper. Erwin took the ball and the paper, opening it up and reading.

“Thirty-six questions to fall in love.” He held it up. “This is something you need to have with you at all times?”

“My friend gave me that.” You both laughed and you tried to grab it, but he pulled it away quickly.

“A friend, huh?” His eyes scanned over the first couple questions then looked at you. “I might be interested in asking you some of these questions.”

“Me?” Your eyes went wide. Why would he want to ask you any of those questions? You had to admit, you hadn’t actually read any of them when Fen gave you the paper, but if it’s about falling in love, you were sure the questions were about marriage and children. Why would Erwin want to ask any of those?

“I am a bit short on other participants.” He gestured around to the empty elevator. “Even so. You seem like you have a lot going on in your head.”

You looked up at him. This night was already a bust, stuck in an elevator with a stranger, albeit an incredibly handsome stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Why not reveal all of your insecurities, past boyfriends, career failures and whatever other strange questions that paper had.

You turned your body to face him, lifting your legs until you were sitting cross-legged and placed your hands on your knees.

“Fine.” You took a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

The rules were simple. You each ask each other a question, alternating who asks and who answers until all the questions are asked an answered. It was important they are done in order because they get increasingly more personal. After all questions were answered, you and your partner are to stare into each other’s eyes for four minutes.

You couldn’t even say that was easier said than done because it really didn’t even seem all that easy just saying it. Four minutes? You’ve never looked into anyone’s eyes for longer than a couple seconds. This doesn’t even touch on the fact that these questions were going to get more personal as you moved. The only thing that made this even remotely worth it was knowing every question you had to answer, Erwin had to answer the same one and you would be lying if that wasn’t exciting you.

…..

“Number three. Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?” Erwin set the list down in between you as you thought about the question. It didn’t really require that much thought honestly. You were a highly anxious person.

“Yes.” You nodded once and smiled. Erwin waited for you to keep going, but you just stared at him and then remembered. “Oh right! I ask the next one.”

You picked up the paper and Erwin took it from you, holding it above him and laughing at you as you let confusion spread across your face.

“It’s expected you also answer why.” He explained. “The idea is to get to know each other.”

“Yes, but I thought the reasoning was obvious.” You pointed out.

“Not to me.” He lowered his hand, setting the paper down as he watched you fiddle with your fingers.

“I find it almost necessary to practice it. Otherwise I’ll stumble over my words and get confused.” You admitted, shifting uncomfortably. You looked up and smiled, trying to pretend you weren’t as uneasy as you looked. “I bet you don’t have to do that.”

“I think we each have our own insecurities.” His smile was so understanding it had you biting your lip and looking down quickly, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I appreciate you sharing your answer.”

…..

“Number eight.” You paused as you read the question to yourself, a small gust of worry running through you. This definitely meant he was going to look at you. “Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.”

You cleared your throat, keeping your eyes down on the paper, trying your best not show how uncomfortable it was going to be to have him staring at you. You could already feel his gaze. Was he looking at the dirt on your legs and skirt? Was he critiquing how messy your hair was or how your shirt didn’t match the rest of what you were wearing? Maybe he was judging your feet and your choice of socks. You looked down, making sure you did, in fact, shave your legs.

You couldn’t handle it anymore. You let your eyes slowly look up at him, meeting his stare. He was sitting cross-legged, his chin resting on his fist which was propped up on his knee, the smile on his face had a flush of warmth rushing to your cheeks and swirling in your chest.

“To start, I think we both care quite a bit about how we’re perceived by others.” He leaned back on his arms, straightening his legs out, his left leg brushing against yours and you shivered at the warmth. “We have a similar sense of fashion. I also have that same coat.”

He pointed to your jacket laying on the floor and you looked over at it, taking the moment to look away from him and gather yourself. He was quiet and you wondered if maybe he didn’t realize that was only two things in common. You turned to look at him.

“You’re supposed to name three.” You reminded him, looking at him with your eyebrows together. He smiled.

“I would stake a guess that we’re both big rule followers.”

…..

“Alright. Number thirteen. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?” He set the paper down in front of you, going back to resting his chin on his fist, a position you were beginning to realize was his go-to.

“Hmm…” You thought about it. There was no way you would ever want to know your future. You did that once at a carnival and you had anxiety for the next year over it. “I guess I would want to know the truth about myself.”

“What about yourself?”

“I think I would ask if I was a good person.” You nodded slowly. “Yeah, I would want to know if I am a good person.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“A good person.” He laughed.

“That’s what I would ask. I don’t know.”

“Well what is a good person?” He sat up straight. “To you. Your definition.”

“To me?” You were fiddling with your fingers again, a nervous habit that you often did when you were feeling eyes on you. “I guess someone who tries their best to be helpful and kind to everyone equally.”

“I think that’s a fair definition.” He nodded and you picked up the paper. “Do you do those things?”

“The things I listed?” You knew what he was getting at. He nodded. “Yeah.”

“So you have a definition of what a good person is and you’re already doing those things. Why do you need to ask a crystal ball if you’re a good person?”

“For confirmation?” You honestly had no idea. Why did you want to ask that? Erwin had a point. “I guess I don’t feelgood enough?”

“But if a crystal ball told you it was enough, you would believe it?” It all sounded so good in your head, but when you put it out there and he repeated it, it sounded like something a child would say.

“I guess it sounds kind of dumb when it’s said like that.” You laughed uncomfortably.

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.” He put his hand on yours and you shivered at the warmth and looked up. His eyes looked so concerned.

“No, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad for saying it. I just realized it sounded bad out loud.” You both laughed at your apologies. Erwin rested his chin back on his fist.

“I was just trying to say that if something as simple as a crystal ball was enough for you to believe you were a good person, would you believe me if I told you?”

“This is only number thirteen.” You smiled. “Are you sure you know me well enough?”

…..

“Fifteen. What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?” You put the paper down in between you both, the space that was beginning to grow smaller as you each moved closer together.

You were both getting increasingly more comfortable with each other as the questions got deeper and more personal. You had removed your shoes, scooting closer to Erwin while he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, moving closer to you.

Erwin looked up, thinking about the question. You’ve been enjoying the questions more as they went on, making Erwin think a bit more each time before answering. It gave you time to admire his face, his perfect bone structure, his incredible blue eyes, and the way he liked to tap his finger on his lip when he thought about things.

“I want to say deciding my career path.” He looked at you and it made you smile. “I thought I would… I was expected tofollow in my father’s footsteps and become a teacher, but I chose my own path. I’m happy with that.”

“What do you like about your current job?” You asked him.

“I like my job because it gives me the freedom to continue things I have interest in, like teaching kids about finance.”

“Wait.” You held your hand up. “You are proud of not following your father and being a teacher so that you could get a job in finance just so you could teach kids finance?”

“It certainly sounds silly when you say it like that.” You both laughed.

…..

“Twenty-nine. Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.” You put your hand out and Erwin took an M&M from it, tossing it in the air and you caught it in your mouth, the only way you were allowed to eat them then, a rule you made around question twenty.

“Okay, I have it.” Erwin chewed his M&M you tossed him and continued. “When I was interviewing for my current position, I had never been to the building before that so I wasn’t familiar with it. The whole building is, in essence, a big glass box. It’s all windows, even the doors just look like large windows, but not the tinted ones. These are the completely clean and nearly invisible windows. As I made my way up the steps, I thought it was an open floorplan without any doors, so I just walked forward and stepped straight into the glass.”

You threw your head back with laughter and quickly tried to cover your mouth so he wouldn’t feel bad, snorting into your palm. Erwin smiled at you, his hand brushing over your waist before dropping to the ground.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized. “That’s a very understandable mistake. Honestly. It’s not so bad.”

“Yes, well.” He continued, a small smile on his face. “I also did it on my way out the building after the interview.”

You were roaring with laughter now. You tried your best to cover your mouth, but even your eyes were watering. You put your hand on his shoulder to steady yourself, but dropped your face there until you could calm yourself down enough.

“I’m sorry. Really. I shouldn’t be laughing at you for that.”

“It’s quite alright.” He bit his bottom lip before quickly smiling. “It’s worth it to see you smile.”

…..

“Question thirty-one. Tell your partner something that you like about them already.” Erwin set the paper down. It was quite amazing actually. You had only been in the elevator for a couple hours. You’ve only known Erwin for a couple hours. Looking at the way he set the paper down, how he was holding his face, barely looking away from you, slowly sitting back against the wall, his hands rubbing over his thighs to wipe the nervous sweat from his palms, he was uneasy. You could see it. Even knowing him for such a short time, you could already tell what he looked like when he was nervous. Thinking about it made the corner of your mouth turn up in a small smile.

You had a feeling he would expect the obvious things. He was a gentleman, he was honest, he was kind, he spoke well. You wanted to give him something to make his eyes shoot up to meet yours and to make a small smile grow on his face.

“I like that you helped take this really terrible situation on an already crappy Friday night and made me have the most fun I’ve had in a long time.” His eyes shot up to look at you, a small smile growing on his face. Bingo.

…..

You laughed, blowing air from your mouth as you tried to hold it in, giving up and throwing your head back with a loud laugh. Erwin was smiling at you, his cheeks coloring pink as he absentmindedly slid his hands over your waist.

It was too embarrassing, too cringy, too intimate for someone you just met and you were sure even if you knew each other well, it would be just as awkward. You managed to calm yourself down enough, still letting out puffs of air and giggling every time the discomfort crossed your mind.

“Let’s try again.” Erwin spoke softly, shaking your hips a little as he smiled.

“It wasn’t embarrassing enough that you want to do it again?” Your eyes went wide.

“I just shared thirty-six highly personal pieces of information about myself. What’s four minutes of looking into eyes as beautiful as yours?”

Your jaw dropped open, bottom lip moving up and down as you searched for something to say. He was flirting, that was definitely flirting. The idea of a man like this flirting with you left you a bit speechless. You finally just sank back, smiling shyly as you looked at your hands.

“We don’t have to.” He leaned his head to the side to look at your face. “I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s okay.” You looked up at him. The idea of a man like him flirting with you might be unbelievable, but this whole situation was a bit unbelievable and while you were living in a dream, you might as well really live in it. “Let’s try again.”

He smiled and it melted your insides. You weren’t a confident person naturally. There were a handful of things you could confidently say you didn’t overthink, but the majority of the time, you were always second guessing everything you did, every decision you made. So when you decided to sit yourself on his legs in front of him, hands resting on either side of his thighs, you were just as surprised as he was, his blue eyes peering into yours as his eyebrows dropped and he let out an exhale.

“Start the timer,” you instructed. He didn’t even look down at his phone as he started the four-minute timer from zero. He dropped a quick glance down to your lips and brought his eyes back to yours, a small smile played on his lips.

You weren’t brazen enough to sit on his thighs, your butt rested comfortable on his shins and your upper body leaned forward towards him, but the new shift in position gave you a confidence you didn’t have a moment before.

His phone let out one small beep and you smiled. One minute had passed. You held his gaze, noticing him licking his lips, his tongue fliting out and the tiniest lip bite before he rested his lips in a smile. You shifted in your spot and his hands inched their way to yours. His first finger getting there first, wrapping itself around your pinky and you smiled, encouragement to have the rest of his hand follow.

A second beep from his phone and he rubbed his hand gently up and back down your forearm. You sat yourself a bit closer, lifting yourself off his legs and slowly scooting forward until your butt rested on the cushy muscles of his thighs. His hands connected with yours until they slipped free and rested on your waist, sliding back and roughly grabbing the extra meat of your hips. He blinked slowly, licking his lips and you felt like your heart would beat out of your chest. He raised his knees, sliding your body down his thighs and pushing you up against his chest, your faces barely an inch apart.

You couldn’t help but smile at him and he brushed your hair from your face, his hand cupping your jaw while his other hand brought your body even closer to him. His eyes moved to your lips, looking away from your eyes for the first time since the four minutes started.

You rested your palms on his chest, feeling just how firm, yet soft it was before letting yourself lean in to press your lips tenderly to his. It was like electricity shooting through your body at the contact and your hands quickly moved to the back of his head, pulling him in. He must have felt the same way because his hands slid up your back to keep you in his lap and resting against him.

You moved your lips slightly against his and he opened his mouth, teasing your lips with his tongue until you opened your mouth. He didn’t push his way in, his tongue waited for yours to meet him halfway before he started exploring the cavern of your mouth. You panted against his mouth. You were amazed that he still tasted like minty toothpaste, even after all the snacks you both ate and you wondered if your breath had any remnants of anything fresh, but the pull of his hands to bring you closer had you thinking it couldn’t be that bad.

His hand slid lower down your back, the touch giving you chills. He timidly ran over your hips, and moved back up, settling on your waist. You slid towards him a bit, your hips barely lifting up before resting back in his lap and he groaned, a deep rumble that echoed off the walls of the elevator and vibrated through to your own chest.

You smiled. Your lips pulling away from his, but your hands remained in his hair, brushing through the blond locks now entirely out of place. He sighed, looking at where his hands were resting on your hips. He moved one of those hands to your cheek and leaned back in to kiss you as the four-minute alarm on his phone sounded and you both jumped, laughing quietly.

He turned back to you and continued leaning in, his hand moving to behind your head as his lips reached yours.

“Hey! Is there someone in there?” Someone called from outside the elevator. Your eyes widened and you stood up.

“Hello? Yes! We’re stuck!” You called through the doors, hoping your voice was loud enough. You turned back to Erwin, grinning with excitement and he stood up, fixing his shirt sleeves and moving behind you.

“Alright! We got a guy who can open up these doors.” The man called from outside.

You stepped back, directly into Erwin’s arms and he held your shoulders. The contact with him made you turn around to look at him. He had his suit jacket back on and you remembered your shoes. The man that was outside started prying open the doors and you grabbed your shoes, sliding them on and picking up the things from your purse that were scattered along the ground.

In the corner of the elevator was the small plastic capsule of your pantyhose and for a moment, you froze. In the time you were stuck in there with Erwin, for a short amount of time you had completely forgotten about your blind date. The man probably waited for hours only to hear nothing back from you. Guilt was starting to settle in. Even if you didn’t want to go on the date in the first place, you weren’t the kind of person to just leave someone hanging like that. And the whole time you were in here enjoying yourself with Erwin. Well, you may have been trapped, but knowing you were having fun with someone else made your stomach fill with shame.

You stood up, having collected all your things and faced the elevator doors. Your mood shifting entirely from only moments before. Erwin had grabbed his things and put his shoes back on. You could see light coming from the slowly growing crack in the elevator doors and you squinted a bit as your eyes adjusted. Erwin moved closer to you, his arm pressing against yours as he leaned in.

“Y/N, I…” You looked up to him.

“Alright, that’s it. You guys can come through.” The man told. Erwin pressed his lips together in a smile.

“After you.” He gestured. You stepped through the elevator doors onto the landing of the sixth floor.

You only had a couple floors to walk up and while you could have done it alone, it was nice walking with him. That is, until the realization hit that you were only going to be walking with him for a couple short flights of stairs, after which, you will say your good-byes and most likely never see each other again.

There really wasn’t any way this man wanted to see you more than the forced three hours he just had to endure. You sighed to yourself. That thought coupled with the mixture of guilt for your blind date was enough for this Friday night. When you made it to your floor, you opened the stairwell door, made sure to hold it for him and quickly hurried to your apartment and unlocked the door.

You rushed inside, closing the door behind you and resting your head against the door. That was fun, but there was no way it was going further. Your date may have been cancelled at this point, but Erwin still had time for whatever rendezvous he had planned. Just the thought of you kissing him without knowing anything about who he was coming to see was making you cringe.

Beyond that, there was the notion that your kiss would lead to something and that was embarrassing enough. You didn’t need to stick around after that. To think that anything else would come of it was a lot of pressure and expectations on him just to fulfill your little girl fantasy. You both got caught up in the moment and that was it. There was nothing else to it. You took a deep breath and set your bag on the floor.

Walking to your dining room table, you pulled out your phone to call your friend. You may not have wanted to go on that blind date at all, but forcing the poor schmuck to wait hours for you without even a text was unfair.

As you unlocked the screen, you saw twelve unread messages from Fen and quickly looked through them.

[6:30pm I just spoke with him. He’s on his way to your place now.]

[6:38pm I guess I forgot to mention how punctual he is.]

[6:38pm A lot better than me, right? XD]

[6:45pm What are you going to wear?]

[6:50pm You’re so lucky you have a friend like me to set you up on dates for a Friday night.]

[6:51pm He just texted me. He’s at your place]

[6:51pm Why aren’t you answering your bell??]

[6:52pm You’re not standing him up, right? Please, he’s so cute!]

[6:54pm Someone let him in. I told him your apartment number. You better let him in!]

[7:15pm I haven’t heard from him so you must be out. Why aren’t you texting me??]

[7:16pm I guess that must mean you’re having a great time!]

[7:24pm I just ate a whole pack of Oreos.]

Your heart was racing. Someone let him in? You checked the time of the message. Someone let him in around the time you were letting Erwin into the lobby. Your jaw dropped, your mind hurrying through your thoughts.

You didn’t have time to think about it because your doorbell rang and your head shot up from your phone as your heart nearly leapt from your chest. Hesitantly, you set your phone down on the table, letting your mind believe what you were hoping was true. Before you could overthink it, you walked to the door, unlocking it and turning the knob, taking a deep breath before pulling the door open.

Erwin stood there, his jacket back on, shirt straightened and hair back in place.

“I—uh… it looks like I’m your date for tonight.” He smiled nervously at you, his phone in his hands with Fen’s name on the screen. “If you’re still interested, I would very much like to accompany you to dinner.”

You were still interested. You were more than still interested. What were the chances that the man you enjoyed so much time with stuck in an elevator was the date you were supposed to meet all along? You made a mental note to thank Fen because, for once, she was spot on with this match. You smiled broadly and pretended to think about it, playfully tapping your finger to your lips in the same way he did when he thought.

“How do you feel about having dinner at my place?” You stepped back a bit, opening the door wider.

“I think I’d like that very much.” He stepped inside and you closed the door.

338 notes · View notes

dewykth · 4 years

Text

—CYBΞRSΞX (m)

pairing. jeon jungkook | female reader | park jimin genre & au's. smut, humor / camgirl!reader, camboy!pjm, rich boy!jjk word count. 10.213 warnings. please read ! multiple explicit sexual scenes, masturbation (f + m), porn, sexting, nudes, jk in a thong (bc yes), ice play, sex toys, face sitting, sub!jk, (soft) dom!reader, sub!jm, [18+] note. AHH it's finally here!! thank you to everyone who liked the teasers, i hope you'll enjoy this baby! this went thru a lot of editing, rewriting, and deleting, but i’m finally happy w it !! feedback is vv much appreciated <3!! note two. and yes, i did take the opportunity to write subby bts, bc i can, and we need more of it. thats it. sub jk rights!

—shoutout to vira ( @periminkle ) for beta reading and making me laugh w her reactions <3 ily

[teaser #1] ♡ [teaser #2] ♡ [playlist]

synopsis. there are three rules you set for yourself when you signed up for cybersex.com. one, separate work from your personal life. two, do not get involved with any cyberboy, no matter how stupidly & unfairly gorgeous he is. and three, do not, under any circumstance, fall for a client. they're very simple, and very easy to follow. so why are you about to get in bed with park jimin, cyberboy extraordinaire, in order to spite a loyal client of yours?

[ :: LOADING... my strange addiction :: ]

The hot pink log-in screen of cybersex.com is a sight Jungkook is embarrassingly familiar with. Frankly, he’s afraid to admit how many times he’s logged on this past week. It takes him no longer than a minute for him to input his account information, quickly searching for the sole reason he’s still on this site at all.

Jungkook glances at the time. He might still be able to catch a bit of your show tonight. Even if it were only for a few moments, it’d be enough for him until he actually got to talk to you tomorrow. Hopefully.

Jungkook knows better than to think he could ever get enough though.

● LIVE!: sittin here undressed...

By Sweetheart666

83,938 viewing now

The screen goes black for a second before you appear, sitting on your bed with a pink pillow between your thighs. Jungkook sucks in a breath, feeling his dick twitch in his sweatpants. Your hands are on your chest, playing with your nipples and whining softly. Your sounds spur Jungkook further, his eyes glued to the completely fucked out expression on your face and (too soon) his dick is fully erect. He doesn't know how you're able to get him like this so quickly every time.

There's sensual music in the background, but Jungkook only focuses on the pretty sounds falling from your lips. Jungkook begins to palm himself through his sweats just as you tease your fingers over the band of the mesh shorts barely leaving anything to the imagination. Jungkook's skin is hot to the touch, and he can feel the sweat building on his forehead.

“Oh? Do you guys want this off?”

Comments fill the screen quickly, all fervently voting in favor for removing the sheer white fabric. But this isn’t Jungkook’s first time, and he knows better than anyone you like for them to beg.

“Show me how bad you want me to take it off.”

v_steponmepls_ tipped 2,000 hearts!

secretly1ntoXhibitionism tipped 5,000 hearts!

bbybun14 tipped 1,600 hearts!

“Aww, is that all? Guess you don’t want it that much...”

Your fingers leave the band of your shorts, choosing to fiddle with the heart chain around your neck as you wait. Jungkook chuckles, knowing that the comments were all probably whining at your teasing. But as previously mentioned, Jungkook was a bit more experienced in your realm. His fingers dance on the keyboard of his computer.

nj_94 tipped 10,000 hearts!

Tiny red hearts fill Jungkook’s screen as he smirks, lying back against his headboard. He sees the way your eyes flash, before you’re smirking at the camera, as if you could see how desperate Jungkook was.

“So needy, aren’t you, nj_94? Alright, I guess I can give you a little something then...”

Jungkook suddenly feels warmth on his face, and he realizes he’s fucking blushing at your attention. There was something about you acknowledging him in front of almost ninety-thousand people that made his chest swell with pride. He’s so fucking whipped, a thought that crosses his mind momentarily before his focus is back on you. When you finally remove your flimsy shorts, Jungkook moans loudly at the sight of your dripping core. Oh, how he wishes he could stuff his face in between your thighs.

He pulls his sweatpants to his thighs, letting his dick spring free. Jungkook gathers his saliva, spitting into his hands before leisurely stroking his shaft. You play with your clit, moaning softly. He can see your juices dripping onto your mattress, leaving a mess. Jungkook briefly wonders how you would taste on his tongue.

nj_94 tipped 15,000 hearts!

“Wow, straight to the point huh?”

When you slip two fingers into yourself and whine, Jungkook’s strokes begin to speed up. He moans, uncaring of the fact that it was past midnight. Jungkook is mesmerized by the sight of your small fingers pumping in and out of your entrance. Your moans begin to grow louder, and he can tell by the way your hips are grinding along your hands that you're getting closer to your release. Jungkook can feel his coming as well, his strokes becoming sloppier.

“Fuck, I wish those were m-my hands instead of yours,” he mutters, lost in the way you’re making him feel. You moan louder, almost as if you could hear the words coming from Jungkook's mouth. It's impossible, but Jungkook lets his imagination wander.

“You’d probably make me beg for it, w-wouldn’t you?” he chuckles breathlessly as you grind down on your hand. “I-i don’t m-mind, though,” Jungkook is sure he’s mumbling nonsense, yet he can’t find it in himself to care when he’s so close to his release. “I l-love begging for you.” His voice sounds echoey, but in his lust-ridden mind, he can’t make sense of anything else other than you, you, you. Jungkook watches through lidded eyes as your hips stutter. You thumb your clit a couple more times before a loud whine rips through you, and you're reaching your climax.

Jungkook keeps his gaze on you, stroking himself a few more times until he too is spilling his seed all over his abs with a low groan. He’s left breathing harshly, lying on his back as he stares at the ceiling in a post-orgasmic haze. It takes a couple of minutes for Jungkook to fully recover before he looks at his computer screen again, realizing your live has abruptly ended. He sighs wistfully before closing his laptop shut.

Until tomorrow.

[ :: LOGGING IN... computer (almost, but not really) luv ::]

[ENDED]: feelin a bit bratty tonight?

By Sweetheart666

106,729 viewers / 202,728 hearts

jacker82: sailor moon cosplay plssssss?

i_swallow_: feet?

James Miller Jr.: would love to take you to dinner some time!

_tittystan_: OH MY GODDD PLSS PUNCH ME IN THE FACE T-T

catdaddyXoX: ur so hawt yumm XD

Scrolling through the comments section and reading them out loud always made you giggle to yourself. They were either always some absurd comment or a simple compliment thrown your way. And you’d be lying if you said doing these videos didn’t make your confidence go up tenfold. During the past few months you’ve been a Cybergirl, you’ve been steadily growing a following. Your past three videos have done exceedingly well, but it was always your lives that got the most attention.

It started as an easy way to get money to pay your bills. A lonely night in your apartment spent drinking cheap wine and crying about how pathetic you felt, because you couldn’t keep a job to save your life, led you to the hot pink sign up screen of Cybersex.com. You told yourself it would be just for you to get yourself back on your feet, but as you began to post more and see the numbers in your bank account go to the triple digits, you grew a penchant for the website.

All it took was a bit more effort into your videos for it to become your main source of income. You’ve grown much more comfortable around the camera than when you first started, and with that you've also been able to claim your place on the Hot200. It was undemanding work, for the most part. As expected, there was heavy competition between the cybergirls, which only worked to fuel your desire to chart. You had to come up with new and creative ideas for every video, and if you were being honest, you’d say you were pretty fucking good at what you do. And of course, there was no way for you to get fired.

To put it in simpler words, you loved being a cybergirl.

But, the best part, if you had to choose, were the personal clients. The ones who would pay an additional price in order to be able to talk to you directly, maybe even get a private show or pictures if they gave a bit more. You had yet to give a private show to anyone, which was pretty expensive depending on the popularity of the cybergirl. Not that you were complaining, there were enough message requests to keep you pleased and your pockets full.

An alert appears on the corner of your screen, signaling the low battery of your computer. After plugging it in you opt to clean your cam set-up, putting away your toys and equipment. You check the time on your phone, noting that you had time to shower before your upcoming session. One that you had been waiting impatiently for all week.

When you emerge from your bathroom, you pick up your phone again, scrolling through the messages until your eyes fall on one in particular. You look at the time. Punctual as always.

[𝟷:𝟹𝟶 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ʜᴇʏ ;)

Him.

Nj_94 was your most loyal client, but he only messaged you twice a week. It’d been almost four months since you first started talking to him and you’d be lying if you said his messages didn’t leave you feeling giddy inside. Granted, you’ve never met him, nor do you even know what he looks like, but it didn’t exactly matter to you. Getting to know him over the soft pink message threads of the Cybersex app, you've definitely grown a soft spot for him. There was something about his cute, albeit awkward, self that sometimes had your mind brewing up visions of him beneath you, quivering and begging and-

You digress.

Your back hits the soft silk sheets of your bed, deciding to make him wait a bit. If there was anything you loved more than your little sessions with nj_94, it was teasing him.

[𝟷:𝟹𝟺 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ʜɪ…

There’s not a moment for you to put down your phone before there’s a chain of pings! echoing through the quietness of your bedroom.

[𝟷:𝟹𝟺 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ʜɪ

[𝟷:𝟹𝟺 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴍɪssᴇᴅ ᴜ

[𝟷:𝟹𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴏ?

[𝟷:𝟹𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ʏᴇs. ᴠᴇʀʏ.

ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺 ɪs ᴛʏᴘɪɴɢ…

The text appears and reappears several times before his message finally graces your screen.

[𝟷:𝟹𝟾 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴅɪᴅ ᴜ... ᴍɪss ᴍᴇ?

Of course you did, but you’d never tell him that. You sit up on your headboard, playing with the frill of your shorts for a few moments before typing out your message.

[𝟷:𝟺𝟷 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ʜᴍᴍ... ᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅs

[𝟷:𝟺𝟷 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴅɪᴅ ᴜ ᴅᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴜ?

On the other side of the screen lays Jungkook on his bed, eyes wide as he stares at your message. He knew you were going to ask him about it, but he didn’t think you’d do it right away. Of course he listened. And he enjoyed it an embarrassing amount, something he’d never be able to admit to anyone except you. Shaky fingers tap on the screen of his phone, typing out his response before he clicks the send button.

[𝟷:𝟺𝟸 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ʏᴇs ɪ ᴅɪᴅ

[𝟷:𝟺𝟹 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ʜᴏᴡ ᴅɪᴅ ɪᴛ ғᴇᴇʟ ʙᴀʙʏ?

His heart quickens when he reads the sentence. It wasn’t uncommon for you to call him pet names, but it usually meant he was in for the night. And probably on your good side.

[𝟷:𝟺𝟹 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ɢᴏᴏᴅ. ʀʟʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ.

[𝟷:𝟺𝟻 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴏʜ ᴄᴍᴏɴ ʙᴀʙʏ... ɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ?

[𝟷:𝟺𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ɴᴏ ɪ

[𝟷:𝟺𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ... ʀᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ ᴛᴡɪᴄᴇ

A blush appears on Jungkook’s cheeks almost immediately after he types out the message. No matter how many times he’s texted you the most indecent and lewd words, he’ll probably never be able to fight the shyness that accompanies it.

[𝟷:𝟺𝟾 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴏʜ?

[𝟷:𝟺𝟾 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʙᴀʙʏ… ᴀʀᴇ ᴜ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ɪᴛ?

Jungkook glances down at his bare thighs, where the thin fabric wraps around his hips. He gulps.

[𝟷:𝟺𝟿 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ʏᴇs.

[𝟷:𝟻𝟶 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: [ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ𝟶𝟾𝟹𝟺.ᴊᴘɢ]

There’s a moment where your mouth hangs open, watering at the sight of his salacious thighs. But, the thin black lace barely covering his prominent bulge is what makes you squeeze your thighs together. If his texts weren’t enough to show how desperate he was for you, this unexpected picture definitely got the point across. God, he was such a—

[𝟷:𝟻𝟷 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʙᴏʏ.

[𝟷:𝟻𝟷 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʙᴀʙʏ

[𝟷:𝟻𝟷 ᴀ.ᴍ.]sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴜ ᴇᴀʀɴᴇᴅ ɪᴛ

Jungkook's heart throbs, or is that his dick? Either way, it's almost humiliating how easy it is for you to rile him up from a few words. You just had that effect on him. And, god, did he fucking love it.

[𝟷:𝟻𝟸 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴜᴍ

[𝟷:𝟻𝟸 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴜ

[𝟷:𝟻𝟸 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴘʟssss :(

This was... new. Usually, you only allow him to be the one receiving all the attention and pleasure. Despite the waning professionalism in your relationship, this was still your job. It was only after your sessions that you'd grant yourself to come to the fresh memory of his whining and pleading. But who were you to deny him?

[𝟷:𝟻𝟹 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ...ᴏᴋ ʙᴀʙʏ

[𝟷:𝟻𝟺 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ʀ ᴜ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʜᴀʀᴅ ʏᴇᴛ ʙᴀʙʏ?

[𝟷:𝟻𝟻 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ʏᴇs. ʙᴇᴇɴ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴅᴀʏ 𝟺 ᴜ…

His fingers itch, his cock aching for any form of relief, but he knows better than to do anything without your permission. Besides, you make it all worth it in the end.

[𝟷:𝟻𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ 𝟸 ᴛɪᴍᴇs 𝟸ᴅᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴡɴᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ?

[𝟷:𝟻𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: sᴏ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ɴᴇᴇᴅʏ, ʜᴜʜ?

[𝟷:𝟻𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ʏᴋ ᴡʜᴀᴛ 𝟸 ᴅᴏ ʙᴀʙʏ ʙᴏʏ

nj_94 has sent 3,000 hearts!

[𝟷:𝟻𝟽 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇᴇᴇ

You laugh breathlessly despite the wetness building between your thighs at his begging. Your hand slips behind your back, unclipping your bralette before slipping it off and throwing it somewhere in your room. You angle the camera so that only the top half of your body shows before snapping the picture.

[𝟷:𝟻𝟿 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: [ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ𝟶𝟾𝟹𝟻.ᴊᴘɢ]

Fuck. Jungkook can’t take his eyes off of the image of your bare chest. Your hand sits right above the band of your thin panties, before the image cuts off. There’s a teasing glint in your eyes as you bite your lip, staring straight into the camera. Jungkook can’t help it, he whines. His hand is pulling the black panties down to his mid thigh before he can think. He sighs at the feeling, grabbing the strawberry lube -your favorite- from his nightstand drawer and squirting a generous amount into his palm. He begins to leisurely stroke his member before a ping! from his phone interrupts him.

[𝟸:𝟶𝟹 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴜᴄʜ?

[𝟸:𝟶𝟹 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ғғᴄᴋ ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴜʀs. ᴜʀ sᴏ ғᴜᴄᴋɴɢ ʜᴏᴛᴛ

[𝟸:𝟶𝟺 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴡɪsʜ ɪ ᴡs ᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡ ᴜ

You wish so too. To have him begging to touch you, to feel you, right in front of you? Fuck, it definitely did things to you. He did things to you. And you wanted to show him.

[𝟸:𝟶𝟿 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: [ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ𝟶𝟾𝟹𝟼.ᴍᴘ𝟺]

Jungkook’s hand falters when he sees you’ve sent a video. Not that it was uncommon, but usually he’d have to send hearts first. But, he decides not to question it, instead choosing to click on the video. It takes a few moments to load, but once the first few seconds start playing, Jungkook’s mouth drops.

Your fingers are in your mouth, sucking and lathering them in spit before they trail down your body and under the fabric of your thin panties. Jungkook doesn’t need to see it, no, he can hear how wet you are. The sounds of your soft moaning and your fingers entering you drive Jungkook utterly wild, and he finds himself whimpering. He can’t stop watching the way you bite your lips and giggle, as if you knew exactly what you were doing to him. Of course you knew.

Jungkook replays the video, deliberate strokes of his hand sounding through the quietness of his room. “F-fuck, ____... what are you doing to me...” There’s another ping! that seems to reverberate in his head, and Jungkook slows his movements before he can get too lost in the endless ocean of his thoughts.

[𝟸:𝟷𝟾 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: sᴘᴇᴇᴄʜʟᴇss, ʙᴀʙʏ?

[𝟸:𝟷𝟾 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴏʀ ʀ ᴜ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴜʀsᴇʟғ ʙᴄ ᴏғ ᴍᴇ?

[𝟸:𝟷𝟿 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ғғᴄᴋ ɪ ᴄɴᴛ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ

[𝟸:𝟷𝟿 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴜʀ sᴏ ғᴜᴄᴋɴ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛғʟʟ

[𝟸:𝟸𝟶 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴄᴀɴ ɪ sɴᴇᴅ sᴍᴛʜɴ ɴ ʙᴀᴄᴋ?

[𝟸:𝟸𝟶 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴏғᴄ ʙᴀʙʏ

A few minutes pass before your phone finally vibrates, your screen lighting up with a new message.

[𝟸:𝟸𝟻 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: [ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ𝟶𝟼𝟽.ᴍᴘ𝟺]

You hesitate for a bit, biting your lip before you press play. The sound of his hand fervently sliding up and down his shaft fills your ears, soft whines of pleasure slipping through the speaker of your phone. If you weren't turned on before, you definitely were now. Your hand travels down your body, slipping underneath your panties. Gasping at the pool of your wetness, your hand moves along your clit expertly as his hand slides along the mess of precum and red lube. Strawberry.

Right as the video is reaching the last ten seconds, your hands speed up against your heat. Your thoughts are clouded, lidded eyes staring at nj_94’s huge cock. Right before the video ends, you hear his voice, muttering nonsense, but that isn’t what makes you cease your motions. “F-fuck, ____, see what you do to me.”

It’s clear he doesn't realize he’s said your name, your actual name. But that's not even the weirdest part. No, because the voice sounds too familiar to you. Similar to the voice of— ping!

nj_94 has sent 5,000 hearts!

[𝟸:𝟹𝟺 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ғᴄᴋ ɪᴍ ᴄʟᴏᴇs

[𝟸:𝟹𝟻 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ʟᴛᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴄᴜᴍᴍ

[𝟸:𝟹𝟻 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴘʟssss?

[𝟸:𝟹𝟽 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: [ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ𝟶𝟾𝟹𝟽.ᴊᴘᴇɢ]

The still image of your drenching core is enough for Jungkook to spill his seed all over his hand. His hand slows as he pumps the last spurts of his cum, chest heaving harshly. He grabs a couple of tissues from his nightstand, using it to clean the cum off of his fingers.

[𝟸:𝟺𝟷 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

[𝟸:𝟺𝟸 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴏғ sᴇʀᴠɪᴄᴇ ʙᴀʙʏ ʙᴏʏ

[𝟸:𝟺𝟻 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼:,, ɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ

sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼 ɪs ᴛʏᴘɪɴɢ...

Jungkook’s head is spinning, but he doesn’t think it’s from the breathtaking orgasm you had just given him. He’s on edge as he watches the little typing bubble appear and disappear multiple times. What could you possibly be ‘thinking’ about? Were you thinking of ending this whole thing? Oh god, were you thinking of—!

[𝟸:𝟺𝟾 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴀᴍ ɪ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ʟɪᴋᴇ?

No, this was definitely much worse. Jungkook never would have guessed how far this would have gone when he first impulsively texted you all those months ago. After the first two months, when the sexting had turned into a regular thing, he knew you’d eventually grow curious. He knew you’d eventually ask. And, god, does he wish he had the fucking balls to tell you.

Jungkook would be lying if he said this hadn’t turned into something more than just sexting. At least for him. He wasn’t really sure how you felt about him, though sometimes the things you’d say when you were coaxing him into an orgasm would go to his head, and he’d think, if only for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, you felt something more as well.

But after he’d come down from his high, and come down back to reality, Jungkook knew it was just wishful thinking. How could you have feelings for someone you’ve never met, never seen? Even if you did, it wasn’t Jungkook you felt something for, it was nj_94. Which, yes technically was him, but not to you. You probably thought it was, well, literally anyone except your nerd of a neighbor who was too much of a coward to tell you who he was. What the hell would he even tell you? How the hell would he tell you?

“Oh, hey, _____! You know that guy you’ve been sexting consistently through Cybersex for four months? Well, surprise! It’s been me the entire goddamn time!”

SLAP!

Yet, even in the safety of his imagination, you're fuming, ears blowing steam as you slam the door in his face. A demand to never speak to you again, and Jungkook sinks into the floor from shame and embarrassment. Sometimes, you’d laugh in his face, disbelieving, or worse, unwanting of him.

Jungkook’s mind was a weird and ghastly place.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at your message, but he sees you’ve gone offline, probably tired of waiting for him to reply. His thumbs hover over the keypad of his phone, but he can’t bring himself to say anything, not even to jokingly brush you off. There have been many moments before where you’ve brought up what nj_94 looks like, but somehow this time it feels different. Jungkook can’t pin down the feeling coiling in his stomach, so he does what he does best.

He ignores it.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The blaring sound of your alarm fills the once quiet room, ripping you away from your peaceful slumber, and you groan loudly into your pillow. Your hand fumbles around your nightstand as you try to blindly reach for your phone. Once you're able to turn off your alarm, you hear the pounding at the door. You lift your head, able to make out muffled calls of your name through your clouded mind. Who the fuck is trying to knock the door down so early in the morning?

You choose to bury your face in your pillows again, shifting the duvet over your head in order to block out the noise. Reaching for your phone once again, your eyes take a moment to adjust to the bright screen, and- oh, shit, you’re running late... again.

You throw the covers off your body, almost falling over the heap of clothes strewn over your bedroom floor. The knocking continues, and you rush out of your room, throwing the door open without sparing another glance at who’s standing at your doorstep.

“Give me five minutes!”

The figure chuckles, entering the threshold as you run back to your bedroom to throw on something presentable. “Rough night?” he says, voice sounding muffled through the closed door.

You laugh breathlessly, “More like rough weekend.” but you’re sure your voice is too quiet to be heard. Hastily brushing your teeth, you attempt to slip on your sweatpants at once. Following your successful multitasking and finishing your morning routine in record time, you emerge from your bedroom. Grabbing your keys and book bag from the living room, you pad over to the shoe rack near the front door.

“Wow, you should start waking up late every day if you’re gonna get ready this fast.”

You roll your eyes turning to shoot Jungkook a glare, “Don’t worry, I’ll start taking my time now just for you.”

Not waiting for a response, you open the door, gesturing for him to exit. He curtsies before he begins walking down the hallway to the elevator, you following closely behind.

-----

There’s something different about you today.

You’re quiet, gazing into the distance as you both walk to the coffee shop a few blocks away from your university campus. He tries to think nothing of it, chalking it up to the sleepiness still wearing off from the early morning. But usually you’d be pointing out random things on the street, or teasing Jungkook endlessly. And maybe he might miss the (albeit playful and meaningless) flirting, but he’d never say that out loud.

You reach the shop without a word, the sound of the city waking up and Jungkook’s boots hitting the pavement the only source of noise between you. When you reach the cashier, you’re still dazed, and if Jungkook didn’t know your order by heart (something he also would never admit), you’d probably forgo ordering anything.

Despite noticing all the things off today, Jungkook decides to not ask. He really doesn't want to push you to talk. And you’d come to him if there was something really bothering you.

At least that’s what Jungkook tried to do, but when you continue to be off in your own world, unknowingly ignoring his attempts at making conversation, he decides fuck that. And even though Jungkook would deny, again, if anyone would ever ask him, he does care deeply for you. Anything bothering you, bothers him.

“Alright, what’s up?” he asks, trying to seem casual despite rethinking the words a thousand times in his head.

“Huh?” you blink, coming back down to earth. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook sends you a disbelieving look, “You know what I mean. I asked you three times if you wanted a piece of my cheese danish, and you haven’t said a word since we left your apartment. So, what’s up?”

You duck your head, suddenly feeling bashful for ignoring Jungkook, but you haven’t been able to stop thinking about... him since the weird conversation you had on Friday. And to make matters worse, the fucker has been ignoring you. The only times he has bothered to text, was only to cancel your Saturday night appointment, despite the money already being transferred to your account. And when you tried to send it back, he declined the request without a word. Everything that he does leaves you more confused than before, and now you’re left to deal with these gross feelings building inside you.

Because even if you’re trying to ignore it, and him, as much as possible, your stupid brain can’t help thinking about all the sessions you’ve had with him, and all the mundane conversations that crossed the strictly business and purely sexual line. It was all too much, and you wished you could make sense of at least some of it, but now he won’t even talk to you. You can’t help thinking that maybe you had imagined it all. That maybe you had somehow convinced yourself that he felt the same way you did.

Or maybe he felt that it was becoming too much, too intimate, too serious, and wanted nothing to do with it. But even then, why couldn’t he have just told you that? Why did he have to fucking ghost you, for crying out loud? Why did-!

“Hello? Earth to _____!”

You blink, eyes focusing on the hand waving in front of your face. “Fuck, did I do it again?”

Jungkook chuckles, and you try to ignore the way your heart skips a beat. What the hell is up with you today? “Seriously, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just…” you hesitate, because what would you even call this? The whole situation is weird if you were to explain it to, well, literally anyone else. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook thinks you work as a coder from home. “Boy problems.”

Jungkook clears his throat, averting his eyes and choosing to focus on the grey concrete beneath him. “O-oh,” and as much as he doesn’t want to know about the other guy who’s got you so in your head, he still asks, “do you want to talk about it?”

You’re quiet for a moment, and Jungkook thinks that you might not say anything, that you might brush him off. He almost sighs in relief but then-

“Well, there’s this guy, and well- uhm,” you stare at the iced coffee in your hands, contemplating how to word your thoughts without actually spilling your secret. “We’ve never actually met, or anything, but we’ve been talking through this,” you pause again, glancing at Jungkook, whose jaw is clenched, “dating site. And well, we’ve been talking for about four months...”

Jungkook almost trips over his own feet whipping his head to look at you. You’re still talking, but now his brain is hazy and he can't think straight. No... you couldn’t... you’re not... you can’t be... you can’t be talking about... him, right? There’s... there’s no way. It has to be someone else. It has to be a coincidence that almost everything you’re saying sounds exactly like your relationship with... nj_94. Right? Right, of course, you’re definitely talking about someone else and it’s all in his-!

“...and when i asked, if uh, i’d ever get to see him, he kinda ghosted me, so, yeah.” you laugh nervously, noting the way Jungkook hasn't said a thing.

But, Jungkook is more sure than ever that you’re talking about him, well, not him, but nj_94, which technically- ok, you know what? It doesn’t matter because he feels nauseous and he’s sure he’s about to empty the contents of his stomach right here on campus in front of everyone. And now you’re looking at him with worry in those beautiful gleaming eyes of yours and oh, god, he needs to do something, anything to make this go away. Jungkook opens the lid of his coffee, taking a huge gulp without thinking anything of it because- OH FUCK!

IT’S FUCKING SCALDING. OH, GOD HIS TONGUE IS FUCKING BURNING AND HE’S SPUTTERING AND SPITTING THE COFFEE BACK OUT AND FUCK, IS HE SWEATING? IT’S SIXTY FUCKING DEGREES OUTSIDE AND HE’S SWEATING? NOW YOU’RE LOOKING AT HIM WITH CONCERN IN THOSE BEAUTIFUL GLEAMING EYES- wait, isn’t that the exact reason he’s stuck in this situation? God, what were you doing to him?

Jungkook barely registers the fact that you’ve both stopped walking, and are standing underneath one of the big trees on your campus. There’s a hand on his shoulder, and he realizes through his mess of a mind that it's yours.

“Jesus, Kook, are you okay?”

“Mhm,” he says, like a liar because no, he’s not okay, far from it actually. Because you’re fucking talking about him, and you don’t even fucking know it. God, the last thing he wanted was to make you feel like this. Truthfully, Jungkook doesn't exactly know why he’s been ignoring you. It was in a panic that he had cancelled your next session, afraid to talk to you after the sucker move he had pulled Friday night.

And he knows, he fucking knows that avoiding it is just making it worse. And that it won't go away, no matter how much he tries to ignore it. Jungkook is at a loss for what to do, and it's not like he could go to his friends to ask for help. This whole situation was too fucking absurd to even bother explaining. But if there was one good thing coming from this, it was learning that you did actually care about him, or...erm...nj_94, at the very least. Sure, there were almost a million other things Jungkook had to figure out, but hey, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there.

Jungkook unconsciously pouts, willing the tingling on his tongue to go away. He’s too busy glaring at the offending coffee in his hands to notice the way your worried stare turns into one of suspicion, if only for a moment.

“Awww, do you want me to make it better?”

His head whips up at that, eyes widening at your words. Innocent and insignificant, yet Jungkook can’t help but think of the videos where you use the same tone. He’s sure that he’s completely forgotten the scalding burn on his tongue now. And it’s then that he sees it. The amused glint in your eyes, and the way your lips are pursed, seemingly holding back a laugh.

You’re making fun of him.

Jungkook scoffs, pushing your hand off his shoulder. You offer him the ice in your now empty cup, but he only rolls his eyes. You both toss your drinks in the can next to you, continuing the walk to your morning class.

And he tries to act upset, he really does, but when he sees you start to laugh, he can’t help but do the same.

[ :: ENTER... the (cyber)boy of your dreams ::]

There’s a familiar ping! that sounds through your bedroom, making you run out of your bathroom, toothbrush hanging from your mouth as you reach for your charging phone.

[𝟷𝟷:𝟹𝟸 ᴘ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: ᴄᴀɴ ɪ ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴀʏ ʜᴏᴡ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪғᴜʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠɪᴅ ʟᴀsᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ?

Trying to ignore the slight pang of disappointment in your chest, you roll your eyes at his compliment. Typing out a response, you hit send before chucking your phone across your bed, huffing as you plop onto your mattress.

[𝟷𝟷:𝟹𝟹 ᴘ.ᴍ] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴅᴏ ᴜ sᴇɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɢɪʀʟ ɪɴ ᴜʀ ɪɴʙᴏx?

[𝟷𝟷:𝟹𝟹 ᴘ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴀʙʏ ;)

Jimin was a bit of an icon in the cybersex world, adored by fans and other cyberboys alike. His videos centered on a more… demanding persona, which is what got him his mass audience. It obviously worked in his favor, if a peek at his account was anything to go by.

ParkJimin

@mincams

1,500,000 monthly viewers / 10,183,209 hearts

Most Popular: be a good girl, would you? / 7,937,937 views

And while a lot of cyberboys faked their personalities on screen, everything Jimin did had a sense of genuinity, and there was no doubt he was just as dominating in real life as he was on camera. You’d know better than anyone.

Jimin had begun texting you a few months ago, right when your videos had begun charting. It definitely took you by surprise, having only been messaged by two other cybergirls asking where you had bought your lingerie. And seeing his immense following only made you question it even more. What did he want to do with you when there were so many others who were more... on his level?

Yet, despite you sometimes disregarding his messages due to the suspicion you had in the early weeks, there would still be a text from him every Wednesday without a doubt. This obviously led to you, eventually, texting him back, if only to satiate your curiosity. And well, he was definitely... intriguing, considering the fact that you’ve been speaking ever since. Though, your ‘acquaintance’ with him has definitely crossed that line of playful flirtiness and frisky texting.

Cyber fuck buddies was probably the best way to describe your relationship with Jimin now. One lonely, frustrating late night had led to you and Jimin exchanging some very lewd thoughts with each other. And yes, although you had broken your second rule of being a cybergirl, the intense orgasm Jimin had given you was enough for you to... tweak them a bit.

See, at the beginning of your Cybersex journey, you had set rules for yourself, if only to make your job easier. And rule number two was to never get involved with a cyberboy. And, really, you were doing a great job at ignoring them completely, then Jimin had managed to slip his way into your life. But could you really blame yourself? Jimin was fucking hot, and you had your own desires that needed to be satisfied every once in a while. When he had just offered himself up, what were you supposed to do? Say no? It’s not like you were fucking him in real life anyway.

So, you changed that rule to never fuck a cyberboy. Harder to actually break and straight to the point. And yet... here you were, thinking of bringing none other than Park fucking Cyberboy Jimin onto your next show.

And you know, it sounds fucking stupid because what the hell? Did you not go over your own rules just now? But Jimin was the only one that could (possibly) help you in this very... unique situation. And, no, you were not gonna fuck him. Despite how much you’ve bent your rules, you were still going to try to respect them. Besides, you had other plans for him.

Like you mentioned before, Jimin was as demanding in his videos as in real life. Yet, there he’d be, in your direct messages, damn near begging for an opportunity to film a video with you.

Who would have thought that Park Jimin, the one who has everyone begging for him, actually wanted to be on his knees for you.

And at first it was easy to brush it off as a meaningless joke. Hell, you’d even respond back with a quip of your own. But when he actually explained himself, you had to say, all his points were very convincing. Something about gaining a bigger platform and a more ‘enlightening’ sexual experience. But, you had never brought anyone on your channel, and honestly, you had brushed the idea of a ‘partnership’ with him to the back of your mind. That is, until now.

Now, you needed him more than ever, for your own reasons.

[𝟸:𝟸𝟸 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ɪs ᴜʀ ᴏғғᴇʀ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴜᴘ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ... ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʙᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ?

[𝟸:𝟸𝟹 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: ɪ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀsᴋ

[𝟸:𝟸𝟹 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ ɪᴛ ɪs

[𝟸:𝟸𝟺 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ’ʟʟ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ.

[𝟸:𝟸𝟺 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴs.

[𝟷𝟸:𝟸4 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sʀs?

[𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟻 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: sᴜʀᴇ...ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ

[𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ɪᴍ ɪɴ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ

[𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ɴ ᴡᴇ ғɪʟᴍ ᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴛʜɪs sᴀᴛ.

[𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴅᴇᴀʟ?

[𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟽 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: ʏᴏᴜ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ᴀ ʜᴀʀᴅ ʙᴀʀɢᴀɪɴ, sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ.

ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs ɪs ᴛʏᴘɪɴɢ...

[𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟽 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: ᴅᴇᴀʟ.

[𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟾 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sᴀᴛᴜʀᴅᴀʏ ;)

The buzz of quiet conversation fills the room, accompanied by the sounds of the documentary playing on the projector that no one could be seen paying attention to. Even the professor seemed to be falling asleep grading papers near the corner of the room. There were excited whispers of a party later tonight, but you, you were ecstatic for reasons completely different.

“Pssst! Jungkook!”

Jungkook lifts his head, looking around before he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns around and almost jumps back in shock from how close your face is to his.

“Uh, yeah?” he whispers back.

There’s something in your smile that throws him off, demure and something else he can’t seem to figure out. Maybe Jungkook pays too much attention to anything you do. Fuck, you're driving him crazy just sitting there.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“Uh, no... why?” he stutters, and maybe it’s just the dark lighting in the room, but he swears he sees your eyes gleam.

“No reason,” you respond, leaning your head against your hand. Your other hand comes to toy with the necklace sitting around your neck. “But I’d advise you to stay home this weekend.”

His eyes widen. What the fuck? Did Jungkook hear you correctly? Or is he starting to hear things too? What the hell are you doing to him? “W-what?”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard about the... show,” you make sure to look right into his eyes, “playing tomorrow night. I heard it was going to be really special.”

Jungkook blinks multiple times, sure the confusion and shock is written on his face as he stares at you. Fuck, he doesn’t know if he heard you correctly, and he’s too afraid to ask. He’s only able to dumbly murmur a “what?”

You only smile, no indication that those words had actually left your mouth. Except the fact that Jungkook had seen it. “There’s supposed to be a storm tomorrow. It’s not safe to go out.”

The lights flicker back on, and students begin to get up to leave the lecture hall. Jungkook is glued to his chair, staring at the desk you had just been sitting in. He’s too stunned to even bother thinking of a response, but luckily (or unluckily) you don’t seem to mind it. Instead you rise from your seat, swinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you later, Jungkook.”

He glances up, swallowing hard at the coy grin on your face. Jungkook can’t help but follow your movement, watching as you pause at the door. You turn your head, making sure that you meet his eyes once again before winking at him. You take your leave, disappearing down the hallway but lingering in Jungkook’s mind.

There was... no way you knew, right? He’d been so careful not to let anything slip. Maybe you were talking about a TV show? As much as Jungkook tried to tell himself that it was all in his head, that no, you didn’t know about his not-so-little secret, somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice kept telling him that it was futile.

He’s embarrassed to admit that once he gets into the safety of his apartment, he runs to his computer, biting his nails as he waits for it to turn on. Jungkook clicks on the pink heart icon in the corner of his home screen, inputting his memorized account information.

USERNAME: nj_94

PASSWORD: boyzwithfun97

Jungkook hasn’t logged onto Cybersex since last Saturday, but searching for your name is like clockwork. Right as he clicks on your profile, he sees you’ve made a new post. Usually, Fridays were the days you went live, but apparently things were different tonight.

[9 MINUTES AGO] SWEETHEART666 said:

no live tonight, babes. vv special video coming tomorrow <3.

Yeah, he was completely and utterly fucked.

[ :: JOINING... the valley ::]

Jungkook doesn’t know how to feel.

He doesn’t even know what to expect. It’s finally Saturday, well Saturday morning and Jungkook finds himself lying in his bed, staring blankly at his ceiling. He’s already dreading the day, knowing that all that would be on his mind today would be you, and your stupid, vague words with your stupid smirk and, fuck, let’s just be real for a second; Jungkook has never been more mortified in his twenty-three years of living. Though if anyone were to ask, he’d say he’s doing fucking peachy, like the liar he is.

He hasn’t seen you since yesterday when you almost gave him a stroke from those borderline seductive words of yours. Fuck, a “show”? What else could you possibly mean? Did you know that he watched your videos? For Jungkook’s sake, he prays to whoever is up there that that’s all you know. The walls of the apartments are thin, thin enough for Jungkook to hear you moaning every time you film, and definitely flimsy enough for you to catch the sound of your name tumbling from his lips almost every goddamn time he comes. But, god, does he really wish he knew how you felt about everything. Instead of leaving him in the dark, he wished you would have at least told him you weren't angry at him for watching your videos in secret.

Oh, how things have taken a turn.

Something Jungkook is great at is pushing away his feelings. Which, in hindsight, has definitely never ever gone even remotely in his favor. Does that stop him from burying it all down? No. But it definitely has taught him ways to distract himself from anything and everything. And one of his favorite distractions is working out. In the gym located in the lower level of his apartment complex, he’s able to filter out the world, his thoughts, and throw all the shit he’s pushed down onto the treadmill. He focuses on the loud drumming of his playlist, pressing down on the arrow button until he’s completely drenched in sweat, panting from the thirty-minute sprint. Then it's weight lifting, which isn't as distracting as he’d like it to be, but if he turns his music up louder, he can't hear the way his brain is screaming at him to just! make! sense! of! his! feelings!

But it only lasts a short hour and a half during the workout. Now, all Jungkook can focus on is the way he hasn't ridden this elevator with you in what seems like forever, and how much he misses talking to you, even if it's just as nj_94. He wonders if maybe he’ll catch sight of you walking back from doing your laundry like he always does when he comes back from his Saturday workouts. Much to his dismay, there’s no sight of you when the elevator reaches your shared floor. His shoulders deflate, and he walks with his head down, feeling completely pathetic.

It’s only when he’s a few feet away from your apartment entrance that he spots the unfamiliar man leaning against your door. He’s poised, aura oozing with confidence and nonchalance. Jungkook slows his walking. Who the hell was he?

The man in question turns his head slightly, and consequently makes direct eye contact with Jungkook. Jungkook feels his eyes widen at how attractive this man was. But, honestly, he would be more surprised if he saw you with someone who looked any less than a fucking god amongst mortals. The man looks Jungkook up and down, plump lips shifting into a smirk before he tilts his head. Jungkook tenses, throwing him a quick nod of the head. His smile widens before the door to your apartment opens, and he walks in, disappearing as quickly as the door shuts.

Great, the last chance he had to see you before tonight was gone. No questions answered, but it was fine. Everything was fine. All he had to do was wait a bit more. Jungkook glances at his watch, sighing loudly before inputting the code, rather harshly, to his apartment.

Only five more hours.

Five minutes.

Jungkook has lost count of how many times he’s refreshed your profile page. He probably looks as crazy as he feels waiting for the clock to hit eleven. He doesn't know what he’s feeling. Excited? Unnerved? Terrified? Jungkook's willing to bet it might be all three.

The minutes seem to go agonizingly slow as if taunting him. The ticking of the clock above his bed threatens to send him into overdrive. He has half a mind to rip it from the nail on the wall and throw it across the room. Even the soft rain hitting his bedroom window makes him want to scream. But he knows every jumbled thought crossing his mind is just an attempt to distract him from the absolute fear he’s feeling right now.

Then finally, finally, after the umpteenth time Jungkook has refreshed the page, right when he feels he's about to implode and have his insides turn into mush, it appears. Right as the shorthand hits eleven.

● [LIVE!] ur fav boy on his knees... w/ a special surprise <3

by Sweetheart666

2,039 viewing now

Jungkook swears he feels his heart stop beating, and he almost doesn't click on the live, he almost shuts his laptop and walks to the corner of his bedroom to rethink his actions in shame.

Almost.

The sight is familiar, one of your dimly-lit bedroom and a king-sized bed freshly made with black satin sheets. It’s a view Jungkook has grown all too accustomed to, after spending countless late nights watching you come undone under the same light. But tonight, everything has him on edge. Even the sensual music playing quietly in the background makes his heart rate increase.

It takes another minute before you appear in frame, wearing that damned smirk on your face again. But now there’s a flash of something he can’t seem to name, that flickers in your eyes. Jungkook must either be losing his mind, or the camera was playing tricks. You greet everyone in that same sweet voice of yours, as you always do in every video. You wait a few more moments for more viewers to join, toying with the heart that hangs on the chain wrapped around your neck. Everything seemed normal so far, and for a split second, Jungkook is able to breathe again. But before his thoughts could get any further, he comes into the frame.

“Everyone, this is Minnie. You might know him as Jimin, or mincams. He’s the first person I’ve ever brought on my channel, so please be nice to him...”

The same guy that had been standing outside of your apartment door. Jungkook should’ve connected the dots. It was all right in front of his fucking eyes, yet he was too in his feelings to even realize it. This was your ‘special surprise’.

Jimin’s face is eerily familiar, and Jungkook realizes that it’s not from the fleeting hallway interaction. No, he’s definitely seen him on the trending page of Cybersex multiple times. He doesn’t know how he didn’t recognize him at first, having clicked on his videos out of curiosity before. He briefly wonders how Jimin, the ever dominating and controlling Cyberboy, was so willing to get on his knees for you. Then again, Jungkook knew better than to doubt your authority over anyone.

“...unless, of course, he misbehaves.”

Jungkook almost chokes on his spit, mind failing to grasp the last few words that had tumbled from your mouth. Had he heard you right? Judging by the way Jimin’s eyes light up, he’s gonna take a wild guess and say that yes, this was going exactly where Jungkook thought it was. He looks down at his pants. Jungkook was definitely more excited than terrified now.

You stand from your spot on the floor, but Jimin stays kneeled right where he is, eyes following your movement behind the camera. Jungkook glances at the growing number of viewers, half probably from Jimin’s own audience. Just one look at the comments, he notes that this is definitely something his fans had been waiting for.

“Sit on the bed. Strip down to your underwear.”

Even though he knows your words aren’t directed at him, Jungkook’s dick has a mind of its own. Sure, he’s watched the way you dominate during your solo shows, but seeing you order about another man, fuck, does it do things to Jungkook.

He watches as Jimin obeys immediately, sitting on the edge of the bed and almost ripping his shirt in his haste to please you. You walk into frame again, holding a piece of fabric in one hand. You trace your fingers over the slope of his nose, past his lips, and down the length of his neck. “Such a pretty face. Shame I have to cover it...” you pout, though your eyes are shining with mischief. Your hands bring the silk scarf around his eyes, tying it behind his head.

Jungkook puts his hand over his growing bulge as you guide Jimin further back onto your bed. You turn him to the side, both of your bodies perfectly lining up with the camera. Fuck, is it driving Jungkook absolutely wild knowing that this was all happening just on the other side of the wall behind him. God, the things he’d do to be in Jimin’s place. Or just be there in person.

You’re on his lap now, nipping at his neck as Jimin’s soft moans filter through the speakers of his computer. Your hands, however, are kept at your side, only making Jimin’s pleas for your touch more desperate. Yet, you give into none of it. Pulling away from him, but not without another whine from the blinded man, you grin. “So whiny.”

Jungkook pauses his clothed palming, waiting with bated breath as you go behind the camera once again. The sight of Jimin’s flushed cheeks and harsh breathing makes his dick harden impossibly more. You appear in frame, this time with an unfamiliar object in your hand. Your hand goes to Jimin’s chest, and he jumps from surprise, then immediately after whines at your soft caresses. Once his nipple stiffens, your other hand clamps the pink clip onto it, prompting a gasp from both Jimin and Jungkook.

Jungkook watches as you adjust the tightness while struggling to pull down his pants laying down. Jimin looks even more flustered than before, hands digging into the flesh of his thighs. “Does it feel okay?” he hears you whisper, and Jimin nods eagerly. You chuckle, “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes,” Jimin’s voice is strangled, and Jungkook can see the painful swell of his cock outline through the camera lens. “It’s perfect.”

“Good.” you pat his cheek before pushing him to lie down on his back. Another piece of fabric comes to wrap around Jimin’s wrists, placing them above his head. You climb over his body, opting to lay over his thighs, just below his prominent erection. “Tell me, baby,” Jungkook’s eyes catch the matching pink remote in your hand and the smirk on your face. Your thumb presses down on the button, and the sudden sounds of buzzing mixed with Jimin whining sets Jungkook’s skin ablaze. “Is it ok if I use you for tonight?”

“F-fuck, y-yes, p-please use me, sweetheart.”

Jungkook has his hand on his shaft, leisurely stroking as he watches you press the button once again. The humming stops, but Jimin is left gasping, back arching off the sheets. The sight spurs Jungkook further, and he brings his own hand to his erect nipples, pinching hard. You move to straddle Jimin’s thigh before lifting the other clamp to his mouth. “Open up, baby.”

Jimin quickly complies, opening his mouth wide enough for your index finger and thumb to enter. His lips wrap snugly around them, sucking until you tap his cheek. Your fingers and the clamp emerge drenched in his spit, but Jungkook only gets a glance before you’re shoving them beneath your thin mesh slip-on. The clamps come to life once again, you and Jimin releasing simultaneous moans of ecstasy.

There’s a thin sheen of sweat building on Jungkook’s skin as he pumps himself harder, whining at the sight. God, he’s never wanted to be beneath you as much as he wants to now. He watches as you press the remote once again, giggling quietly at Jimin’s complaining. Jungkook stops his stroking, despite how much he wants to continue, realizing he’d probably make himself come unintentionally. And he could tell you were just getting started.

Your hand trails down the expanse of his chest, trailing down his toned stomach before stopping right above the place Jimin wants you the most. Your touches are playful, teasing as you use your other hand to reattach the wet clip on Jimin’s bare nipple. Jimin gasps when you press your hand down on his erection. “Nngh, sweetheart. It hurts.” he pouts, and Jungkook is almost sure if he wasn’t blindfolded, he’d be giving you puppy eyes.

But you’re inexorable.

“Awww, do you want me to make it better, baby?” you’re still talking to Jimin, but you look straight at the camera, and at Jungkook, as you say it, lashes fluttering.

Now that makes Jungkook cease his motions. Even in his hunger-ridden mind, the words feel strangely familiar, like he’s heard them before, but in a different situation. Jungkook can’t seem to remember, but the thought disappears as quickly as it came. You’ve left Jimin alone on the bed again, standing beside as you slowly strip yourself of your underwear. Hearts blow up the screen as you smirk at the camera. “Everyone’s so needy today, huh?”

You crawl up next to Jimin, tracing your fingers lightly over his toned chest. “You could probably come from these alone.” Jimin voices his pleading objections, desperate to feel your hands elsewhere, but you leave his side once again, walking closer to the camera. “Hmm, let’s ask your fans what they think.”

There’s no need to even glance at the video chat, because your laugh says it all. “Looks like they want you like this, Minnie.” He arches his back of the bed, attempting to plead with you for more stimulation. “Nnngh, please, sweetheart.” Yet you only giggle quietly. Your hand reaches for the remote off to the side before you turn the clamps on once again. Jimin’s breathy moans are loud, loud enough to filter through your shared wall, and Jungkook gulps.

Leaving Jimin alone on the bed once again, you emerge with a silver bowl in your hand. You crawl onto his thighs again, clicking the button and halting Jimin’s pleasure. Your fingers pick up an ice cube before tracing it down his chest. Jimin shivers at the coolness, but otherwise stays quiet, waiting for your next move. When you reach the band of his boxers, you leave the ice cube to melt on his abs before pulling them down and letting his cock hit his stomach. Jimin gasps at the cold wetness, tied hands digging into the mattress above his head. “Is that better, Minnie?” he only nods in response, and this time it’s enough for you.

Jungkook glances at the mess on his lap, a mix of his precum and spit lathered all over his shaft and hand. He looks back at his screen, and he sees you’ve crawled over his chest, nearing his face. Your hand goes to cradle his jaw, using your thumb to trace his bottom lip. “Tell me, Minnie, is this mouth only good for whining and complaining?” Jimin shakes his head fervently, tongue coming out to lick at your thumb. “Hmm, mind if I test it for myself then?”

Jimin swallows, trying to find his voice. “Please.”

You push his head back onto the bed, placing your knees on either side of his head. Another ice cube finds its way to your hand, and you bring it to Jimin’s lips. “Open, Minnie.” he complies, sucking the ice into his mouth. His mouth is left agape, and you smile, pleased. “Good boy.”

You slowly sink down, just enough for Jimin to start licking and sucking your heat. You gasp, holding your breath before letting out a small whimper. The hand that’s not steadying you holds the remote, pressing down on the button once again. Jimin groans into your clit. Jungkook watches the way your back arches with pleasure as his hand speeds up on his dick. He imagines being the one underneath you, eating you out like he’s wanted to for so long. Jungkook tries to be quiet, he truly does, but, fuck, just the vision of you spread out above him, makes him moan out loud.

“C’mon, Minnie, louder. Don’t you want everyone to know how good I’m making you feel?” Jungkook doesn’t realize how loud Jimin is until he hears his moans clearer through the wall than his computer speaker. Jungkook swallows down his whines as best he can, but when he sees the way your toes curl from Jimin’s unrelenting mouth, he can’t help it anymore. He’s sure the noises falling from his mouth can be heard as clearly as Jimin’s, yet he can’t find it in himself to care. Not when he’s so close to his own release.

Your whimpers only spur Jungkook further, and he’s too lost in the way you smirk straight at the camera to worry about his volume anymore. He groans, on the edge of ecstasy when your voice sounds through his clouded mind. “C’mon, baby boy, I know you can do it.” White flashes behind his eyelids, and he comes in spurts of white all over his stomach. Jungkook doesn’t notice the way all light in his room has suddenly shut off, leaving him with only the glow of his dying computer to luminate him.

When Jungkook finally opens his eyes, there’s nothing but darkness, the harsh sound of rain splattering against his window and the howling noise of the wind mixing with his harsh breathing. Even Jimin’s whines and the humming of his laptop has stopped. The post orgasm haze clouding in his mind the only indication that whatever just happened was actually real.

CLICK!

[ENDED] ur fav boy on his knees w/ special surprise <3

by Sweetheart666

687,982 viewers / 2,298,836 hearts

#16 on trending

“Fuck.” he mutters, finally grasping the fact that the power had gone out. But, it’s when Jungkook’s eyes adjust to the darkness, that it comes back to him. Something you said that sounded too familiar, and this time he knows it’s not his imagination.

“Awww, do you want me to make it better, baby?”

It becomes clearer as his breath evens out.

“Awww, do you want me to make it better?”

You know.

#bangtanhq #btsbookclub #btsguild #btsgoldnet #goldenclosetnet #cypherwritersnet #btsghostie #jungkook x reader #park jimin x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #park jimin x you #jeon jungkook x you #jimin smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts smut #w; cybersex

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dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

Text

Powerful Ch. 2

Yakuza! Shouta Aizawa x Fem! Reader

*Mafia AU*

Warnings: Misogyny (not from Shouta), a dagger, kinda fluffy

Word Count: 3.5 k

Author’s Note: This is turning out pretty good, I think. It’s turning into a kind of slow-burn ish thing, and as much as I can’t stand slow-burn sometimes, I’m liking it so far. If I’m being honest I feel like (hopefully) this is the thing that can help me get over my smut writing block. I haven’t been able to get myself to write smut for a while, and I’m hoping this can help me fix it.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

Also, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I usually put in that little line spacer when there’s a pov change. You know, this one:

____

So yeah. And the three asterisks (except the ones at the beginning):

* * * Usually means a timeskip. If it’s unlabelled it’s only a short skip, anything over 24 hours I’ll label.

Enjoy~

Shouta woke you up, his rough hands rubbing your back and deep voice softly calling your name. When you let your eyes flutter open you realize you’re still on top of him, only your head is further cradled into his neck and your leg had found its way around his waist. The position had your face warming as you lifted your head and met his dark eyes.

“Good morning, little one.” He sounded groggy, like he’d just woken up himself. You pulled away and he released you so you could sit up. Off of him. You couldn’t quite hold his gaze, so you looked down at the bedsheets.

“Good morning, Shouta.” He sits up beside you, a hand grasping your chin and making you look at him.

“Am I too forward? Or are you afraid of me, little one?” You raise your eyebrows, not expecting him to really consider your own comfort.

“Can I speak freely?” He nods, and you take a breath.

“You are being just a little forward, but I think it’s only really enhanced because you’re known for being cold and unwelcoming. And also the fact that we only formally met last night.” His hand drops, and he waits for the second half of your answer. You take a moment to choose your wording, make sure you’re accurately communicating your feelings without offending him.

“While I do feel awkward and, frankly, small around you I don’t necessarily fear you. So far you’ve shown that you aren’t cruel, and though you are capable of some...violent things, I have no reason yet to believe you would be violent toward me.” A small smile tugs at his lips, a foreign thing to see.

“I assure you, I am not a violent lover. Nor will I ever be.” He reaches over and grabs your hand, lifting it to his face and leaving a soft kiss on your knuckles. It’s a simple, sweet gesture that has your face and chest heating. Then he gets up and you follow him out to the living room where three large suitcases are waiting. Your suitcases, you realize, Mother and Father must have packed all your clothing and had them sent here. Shouta picks up two of them and you take the last one, returning to the bedroom.

“The closet has plenty of room, so go ahead and sort everything out. I’ll be in my office. Once you’re done just wait for me, we’ll be going out later.” You nod, and he’s disappearing into his office. For the first time, you take a good look at the room. Your room now, you remind yourself.

It’s large, enough to fit three more king beds with plenty of spare room. The king-sized mattress sits in a black frame that was built to look like it was hovering inches off the ground, fitted with light gray sheets and a large black comforter. The entire room is illuminated by lights embedded in the ceiling, the floor a dark hardwood that matches the doors to the bathroom and walk-in closet. A table sat on either side of the bed, both painted black to match the bed frame.

The walk-in closet is big as well, though it’s much brighter than the main bedroom. The floor is smooth white tile, a white center island with a glass top looking into the top drawers that held numerous watches and ties. Most of Shouta’s clothing seems to be folded, the suits and more high-end clothing the only pieces hung up. You filled the empty spaces with your own clothing, keeping everything organized like you had back at home. With everything tucked away, you decided it was time to change out of the robe, tugging on undergarments you missed those, a pair of loose sweatpants and a racerback tank top. Then you brought the now empty suitcases back to the living room and dug through the kitchen for some breakfast.

____

Shouta emerged from his office to you humming to yourself as you worked over the stove of bacon and pancakes. He didn’t even know he had bacon, let alone the ingredients for pancakes. It was quite cute, seeing you bounce lightly along with the tune you’re humming, spatula in hand. It’s a domestic sight, completely foreign to him. He leaned on the doorframe, choosing to admire you a while longer.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come get some food?” He blinked, slightly shocked, you hadn’t even turned around to see if he was there. You must have heard the door open, though he made sure none of the doors in his home creaked. It’s an irritating noise. He made his way over to you, hooking his chin over your shoulder and placing his large hands on your waist.

He knows he’s moving a little fast with the intimacy. He’d asked you earlier, though you said you didn’t mind, you were absolutely right that it’s weird being so close so soon. In all honesty, as long as you’re alright with it he wants to continue being touchy like this. He’s never truly had any interest in naming a partner, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want company. He’s been lonely for a long time, longing for someone to hold, and while he’s absolutely sure any woman would love to court him willingly, he wants someone special.

He can’t stand the women that throw themselves at any man with power and money, most of them only in it for their own gain. If he were to announce before the ball that he was looking to name a wife, he’d probably have had a line of fawning women on their best behavior to butter him up, flirting and smiling those too-big smiles in an attempt to get a rock on their finger and power to wield at their leisure. That’s why he’d decided to watch from afar, and you struck him as different the moment he’d laid eyes on you.

The more time he spent in your company, the more he’s commending himself for picking you. You’re one of the probable few that held a semi-neutral opinion of him, not fearful nor starstruck. You’re intelligent, well-articulated, and while you have your limits you tend to go with the flow, let the wind carry you this way and that. And you’re honest with him, he has no doubt you’ll tell him if there’s a boundary he crosses.

____

You’re grateful he can’t quite tell the state you’re in right now. Shouta’s hands on your waist flustered you, more than you care to admit. Sure, he’s advancing rather quickly, but you meant it when you said you didn’t mind. You’d been forbidden from dating, made to save yourself for the strategic marriage your father had planned. For the longest time you’d wanted to be held, touched and loved by someone. And here Shouta is, fulfilling all your teenage daydreams. He has no reason to be so close behind closed doors, where no one can see you, so he must feel some sort of real attraction toward you right? Otherwise he’d be more closed off, only opting to speak on his own terms and not caring at all about you or your comfort.

You shake yourself from your thoughts and the two of you sit at the dining table, quietly eating your breakfast. It is a little awkward, but you expected as much. Shouta, like you, probably isn’t used to eating with another person. You both finish breakfast soon, and once the dishes are washed Shouta startles you with his next words.

“We’ll be leaving in an hour or two for a lunch meeting with a few other clans.” You have to take a pause and think about what he’d just said.

“We? You want me to join you?” A part of you wants him to confirm it, another hopes he doesn’t.

“Yes, I want you there with me.” Cue your confusion.

“It’s almost unheard of, having a woman in a clan meeting.” As much as you hate the patriarchy and its traditions, they are still traditions that, once challenged, could upset many people.

“Let’s say I’m breaking the status-quo. If I’m going to have a wife, she’ll be wielding my power alongside me, not just existing as a means to further the bloodline.” It becomes apparent to you that Shouta, despite his position, is very much not traditional. You turn to him and lean against the kitchen counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So why have you chosen me? I’m the daughter of a very low-ranked oyabun, have almost no experience compared to you and I am most definitely not someone other oyabun would approve to be your wife, let alone leading the entirety of the Yakuza.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, crossing his own arms.

“I don’t care what other oyabun may think of me or my choices, they don’t dictate what I do. As for why I’ve chosen you, it’s quite simple. I’ve known you for less than a day and it’s already obvious to me that you can take most things in stride, without allowing it to affect you emotionally. You’re good at compartmentalizing your own thoughts, can keep a level head under pressure, and that’s exactly what I need.” Your own eyebrows raise, not expecting a read like that.

“And last night as I watched you, it was clear to me that you’re skilled at masking your emotions, especially nervousness or fear. Think about what any other woman would have done, had I walked up to them and asked their name. Before I could get another word out they’d probably drop to their knees and begin begging for their lives. Most would probably faint on the spot, pounce on me, or any other number of unsavory responses after announcing a sudden engagement to me. But you? You did nothing, simply answering my question and taking my hand with no theatrics.”

You nod slowly, mildly understanding his point. While it’s true you had almost no reaction, you’re almost sure there’d be at least a dozen other women in that hall that would have reacted the way you had.

“Still, there must have been many others that acted like I did. For me to be so completely unique is…” You trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.

“Unlikely? Yes. Impossible? No. I trust my own judgement, little one, and you should have a little more faith in yourself. Now, let’s go get ready. I’ve already got a dress for you to wear. It’s only semi-formal, we’ll be going to a restaurant for this meeting.” You give a small sigh as you follow him into the bedroom.

All you can do now is go along with it, whether you trust his judgement or not. Suddenly being put in a position of so much power is stressing you out a little bit, but Shouta isn’t wrong about your compartmentalization. The stress could be dealt with later, right now you have a meeting to attend.

* * *

On second thought, maybe the stress should have been dealt with earlier. Standing outside the restaurant, wrapped around Shouta’s arm is making your heart pound in your chest. You’re unconsciously squeezing his bicep, and even as he looks down at you, there's nothing on your face to indicate your nerves. You’re completely deadpanned, eyes focused and mind working overtime. Shouta’s calloused hand falls over yours, a mildly comforting gesture.

“Don’t worry, little one. The most you’ll have to do is sit still and look pretty. I’m aware of your inexperience, I don’t expect you to be put on the spot. If you are and feel uncomfortable then all you need to do is tap my leg. You’ll be fine.” You nod. The pep-talk is appreciated, but it isn’t the meeting itself you’re worried about. What kind of backlash will Shouta be getting once you enter? What will be said about his reputation afterward? All you can do is wait and see.

You stride into the venue, and are led to a private room by a hostess. You can hear the casual conversation from the open door, but once you’re inside the immediate silence is unsettling. You don’t need to look directly at the half dozen men to know all their eyes are fixed on you as you both sit at the head of the table. Shouta quickly and smoothly brings the attention off of you.

“It’s good to see you, gentlemen. Let’s get this meeting started, shall we?” The tension in the room is still palpable, the clear discomfort from the men hadn’t vanished, but their main focus now is the subject of the meeting. You sit and listen carefully as they talk about several things, from natural disaster preparations to minor territory disputes. Some of the smaller syndicates under these oyabun had spread operations outside their borders, but that was quickly settled as most was due to small misunderstandings and unclear borders. Soon the meeting was nearly coming to a close, and suddenly Shouta left to use the restroom.

And now, you’re a lioness in a clan of hyenas.

You keep quiet, listening to their conversation and following along with the political debates to further familiarize yourself with the inner workings of the higher circle. Suddenly the table goes quiet, and you lift your eyes from the table to meet the gaze of six men that value tradition. Unsure what to do, you drop your gaze again, but don’t drop your chin, choosing to look down your nose at the wood grain. Shouta had told you to hold yourself as he does, and you make sure to try, but you know when to keep to yourself.

“Tell me, girl, what are you doing here?” You blink, not expecting to be confronted so blatantly. You look up at the man who had asked the question. He looks to be in his late forties, jet black hair graying at the temples and striking brown eyes aged and tired. He’s not thin, a little heavier-set, but it’s clear there was a point that he was fit and muscular. He’s already irked you. You nod your head, a small bow, before calmly answering.

“My name is (y/n). I would appreciate it if you could please use it, Oyabun. I am here because Shouta wants me to be here.” The man narrows his eyes at you, a small scoff comes from one of the others but you don’t avert your eyes to him.

“Well why does he want you here, girl?” The blatant rejection of your request made your blood boil, but you kept a pleasant face.

“I don’t know. If you wish to know you may need to ask him yourself, Oyabun. And please, call me (y/n).” You’re certain he won’t use your name, and you addressing it again will probably anger him, but you can’t care too much when you know you’re within your right to ask that anyone use your name. Especially when you yourself are using a title for the man.

“I’ll address you how I see fit. Just because you’re the Black Dragon’s fiance does not mean I will acknowledge you as anyone of importance.” Ah, that’s right. You had forgotten Shouta’s nickname. Black Dragon is the name people used for him, whether they were afraid of the man or in awe of him. You take an imperceptible, steadying breath. Misogyny is one of the few things that challenge your composure.

“I do not ask you to acknowledge me as a person who holds power. In fact, I am aware of my previous rank and understand that it was maybe unwise to have me here. All I ask is that you please use my name.” The near growl that escapes the man does nothing to your self-control, doesn’t even strike any kind of emotion other than irritation. At this point, the other five men seem to be siding with you, their gazes fixed on the rather aggressive-reacting oyabun with something akin to confusion.

“Do not talk back to me, girl! I should remind you of your place here.” The other men sit in shock as he rises from his seat and begins to circle the table. He must have had tunnel vision, because Shouta’s voice cuts through the room so abruptly he freezes, his eyes snapping over to the entrance where Shouta stands, glaring daggers at him.

“Touch her, and I will personally bury you six feet under.” The man is frozen in shock, almost in disbelief. He tries, albeit weakly, to get Shouta on his side.

“O-oyabun! I… This girl, she--”

“I believe she asked you to use her name. Politely, might I add.” He’d been listening? How long had he stood there?

“In fact, you should address her as Onna-oyabun.” Your breath caught at that, the same as the rest of the room. That title was a myth, a rarity in its own right. There were so few instances where that title was applied to a woman under such specific circumstances that it’s a mere legend today. The most recent was an old woman who had inherited her deceased husband’s clan, which was extremely small, and even that was long ago.

Shouta’s hand landed on your shoulder, his rough thumb drawing small circles into your skin. He was silent, waiting for the older man, or anyone in the room, to oppose him. You could feel his glare in the faces of the other clans’ oyabun, the intensity of it making even you uneasy. It felt like an eternity before Shouta spoke again, venom laced in every syllable.

“I’ve chosen to let you keep all of your teeth, in favor of keeping her from seeing what violence I’m capable of. Next time, I won’t be so gracious. It’s time to go, little one.” You bow your head quickly before taking Shouta’s extended hand and strolling out of the room.

In the car, it’s silent. You have every intention of apologizing for causing a scene, though you aren’t sure if you should speak here or at home. Shouta doesn’t leave you any options.

“What is it? There’s something bothering you.” How perceptive.

“I’m sorry, Shouta.” He turns his head, his expression questioning your intelligence.

“For what? For asking to be addressed in a way that isn’t demeaning? He had no reason to ask why you were there, let alone attempt to attack you like that. I always hated that man, you’ve just given me a reason to threaten him.” You did a double-take.

“You heard everything? How long were you standing at the door?”

“Ah. I put a bug in the metal piece on the front of your dress. I knew they might be unsavory toward you, and with me out of the room they were more likely to speak their minds.” You nearly gawked at him. No wonder he’d chosen your dress for you.

“You never went to use the restroom.” He shook his head.

“No, I didn’t. It is I who should be apologizing, little one. The entire ordeal was intentional, as much as I hoped it wouldn’t actually take such a turn. Though I will say I was serious about that title. I fully intend to marry you, and I intend to have you by my side for every meeting from here on out.” You suck in a sharp breath at that bit of information. Marriage seemed like such an abstract concept until now, having Shouta say it somehow made it all the more solid. And to join him for every meeting?

“As long as there are no more surprise incidents then I think I can come with you.” A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, and he squeezed your hand.

“Deal. Though I may need to do that a few more times just to keep some men in line.” You let yourself giggle, he must hate a few of the others as well.

“In that case I’ll help you. I was afraid he’d actually get me for a second there.”

“Really? You didn’t even react. What if I were a split second too late?” You smirked, a mischievous little tug at your lips.

“Well if you were too late he’d have at least one stab wound and be bleeding out on the floor.” He shoots you a bewildered look before you tug up the hem of your dress, exposing a large dagger strapped to your thigh. He can’t contain his laughter, throwing his head back and wiping away at a few stray tears once he can breathe again. You can’t help but laugh with him, and notice just how handsome he looks when he’s happy, or in this case amused.

“Wouldn’t that be an unpleasant surprise.” He chuckles a bit more, getting it all out of his system before looking over at you.

“Regardless, I won’t be letting them get that close. I’m sure you’re capable of defending yourself, and as much as I’d love to see you stab an annoying misogynist, the risk to your safety still remains. Not to mention he disregarded my warning last night. You’re untouchable, little one, he knows this and still thought he could touch even a single hair on your head.”

You let a small smile settle on your lips, lacing your fingers with Shouta’s as a comfortable silence falls between you.

******************************

Tags:

@inumorph

#shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x fem reader #shouta aizawa mha #shouta aizawa bnha #aizawa shouta #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x fem reader #aizawa shouta mha #aizawa shouta bnha #aizawa bnha #aizawa mha

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ronsenburg · 3 years

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Hi! I wanted to ask you something about Klapollo. What topic/argument do you think could possibly cause them to break up or take a break from the relationship? I live for the drama and was thinking about maybe writing a fic but like I dont want to make either of them assholes, like Apollo bringing Kristoph up to hurt Klavier, for example. I don't think he would do that but I struggle to come up with something else.

Oh boy, I hope you’re not upset about this, but I wrote you an essay. I’m sorry.

Overall, I really like the klapollo relationship timeline because, compared to, say, narumi/su they have a much more normal, organic story. They meet, flirt, share a mutual trauma, get together! Totally normal! But I also think that they would have a much harder time than narumi/su finding the balance you need in a serious relationship and I can see them calling it quits for perfectly practical reasons that aren’t really anything to do with one being a jerk, you know? Here are my top things that I think they would have to navigate and maybe struggle with before a real happily ever after:

1. Money. You’ve probably seen my post where I talk about Apollo feeling uncomfortable with displays of affluence. I don’t think that this is an easy one to get past. AA6 Spoilers, but Dhurke and Datz literally raised them in hiding on the run in the mountainous jungles of Khura’in. They sent Apollo to the states as a nine year old. We don’t know what he did when he got here, but my money’s always been on the foster system. That doesn’t typically breed a sense of stability, financial or otherwise.

From my experience (so take it with a grain of salt), children who grow up with very little tend to behave in one of two ways when they reach financial stability and/or achieve wealth: first option, they’re really bad with it. They spend it nearly as fast as they make it on things they didn’t get to have or experience when they were growing up. Second option, they never spend it. They know what it’s like to be without, so they save as much of it as they can so they have the security of knowing, if something happens, they won’t have to go back to the way it was before. I will always put Apollo in the latter category. He works hard for what he has and what he gets and, I think, things that signify extravagance make him uncomfortable. On the other hand, I think that the Gavin’s have always had some sort of wealth. Klavier and Kristoph have very different aesthetics to their spaces that we get to experience (Klavier’s office and Kristoph’s cell) but they’re both pretty lavish. Now, we can assume they each made their money individually in their respective careers but, honestly, Kristoph’s cell is so gaudy. To me, it screams “this is what I’m used to and I refuse to accept any less” which is an attitude that I feel comes more from a lifetime of that treatment.

So if we accept everything that I’ve said above as true, trying to put a person who saves every penny they get and feels bad treating themselves with a person who spends money freely because it’s been a constant throughout their life? It can go poorly. Casually dating, maybe it’s not such an issue once Apollo says “please no more presents and can we just get takeout for once?” but if you’re talking about something more serious, where you have to live in the same space and pay joint bills and be confronted with the other person’s spending habits constantly, it’s a whole other thing. Please take it from me as a person in a long term relationship who loves their partner tremendously—everyone fights about money. Everyone. It would be very difficult for Apollo to feel comfortable, even if he knew that finances were in good shape and there was savings, etc. Things happen, people leave. Nothing gold can stay. Changing that line of thinking takes work. It would also be easier said than done for Klavier to just do an about face on his own habits for Apollo’s comfort. Being a celebrity makes money, but it costs money, too. There is a certain amount of lushness that people expect. That can’t just go away. These are things that become bigger problems overtime, no matter how much you love each other.

Anyway, I would be really surprised if—even if you’re writing them as really happily married—Apollo doesn’t have a ‘emergency fund’ that even Klavier doesn’t know about. It’s a ‘just in case’. Just in case Klavier leaves him. Just in case he needs to get away fast. Just in case the world ends. It’s not a logical thing, something that he sat down and rationalized doing, it’s just there because it feels better to have it than to not. But that can be kind of hurtful if the other person finds out about it, so. There you go, a whole minefield of money related drama.

2. Apollo’s Abandonment Issues. He’s got them! What do you call and orphan twice over who also lost his very best friend? I don’t know, but if capcom doesn’t stop picking on my boy I’m going to kick them in the teeth. I will still never get over AA6 for telling us that Dhurke took Apollo in when he was orphaned as a baby, then abandoned him in the USA, then came back for him and got his hopes up, and then was actually dead the whole time! Hahahaha! What a trip!

Anyway, you don’t come back from that super easy. People who suffer this kind of trauma usually have a really hard time trusting others, which is understandable. They also can have unrealistic needs from their partners, become codependent, or even just self-sabotage their relationships, pulling away first to try and avoid the pain because they think the other person will leave them. I think that last one is most likely for Apollo, especially given the disparity in circumstances I mentioned above. If Apollo can’t trust that Klavier actually loves him, can’t trust that he won’t leave him like EVERYONE ELSE HAS, then they can’t have a healthy relationship. Drama.

3. Klavier’s Emotional Trauma. Kristoph is a pretty big jerk to Klavier in the last case of AA4. He criticizes and undermines Klavier, threatens and admits to manipulating him. In the anthology, Klavier shares an “lol so funny!” story about Kristoph accidentally breaking a window while he and Klavier are playing ball. In it, he convinces Klavier that it was his fault and that he should take the blame and apologize for breaking the window! And Klavier does! That’s gaslighting, baby, and since the Anthology is supposed to be canon, we can take that to mean it’s been happening since Klavier was a kid. Think about that. An entire life of gaslighting and manipulative behavior! You don’t come back from that easily, either.

People who experience emotional abuse can, among other things, suffer from depression and low-self esteem. They need affirmation from their partners and can have a hard time with letting people in or being honest (though not from a malicious mindset—more a “I’m going to say what I think you want to hear because if you’re happy, bad things won’t happen!”). They can also always be waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. Sure things are good, but when will that end and the bad time start? It’s a self fulfilling prophecy: if all you can do is worry about things going wrong, then you aren’t actually enjoying when things are going right and you will cause the issues you’re so worried about. Drama.

4. Fame. Klavier has been in the spotlight since he was a literal child. If the Gavinners were already hits when Klavier was 17, they likely formed and starred their rise some time before then. A year, maybe two? Klavier spent his formative years in the spotlight. He quite literally doesn’t know any other way. Apollo, on the other hand, has never experienced the kind of scrutiny he’d be subject to when dating someone like Klavier. It can be really stressful and hurtful and just overall not a good time. And I’m not saying that Klavier wouldn’t be sympathetic, but I don’t think he would really understand how difficult it could be to have been thrust into that position out of nowhere, because he’s had years of dealing with it and was in a completely different place in life when it began for him. It’s not unreasonable to think that Apollo might not be able to take it. You can love someone and want to be with them but if you can’t adapt to their lifestyle, it’s not going to work. They could walk away rather than risk what might happen to Apollo if they kept it up. Drama.

5. Careers. They both have very demanding jobs. While sharing a similar profession can mean there’s a mutual understanding, it can also cause issues if you... never get to see each other? Schedules can be out of alignment (which could easily happen; their cases can’t always line up and they seem to require a lot of time investment outside of just normal hours). If Klavier goes back into music, that’s an additional time constraint. Why be in a relationship when you can only see the other person for moments here and there? What about the stress that comes with those jobs? That can cause drama.

6. Klavier looks like Kristoph. They are very different people, yes, but similar enough in some ways that it could cause tension. Maybe Klavier is tired and stressed and snaps at Apollo, and suddenly, all Apollo can see is Kristoph and all he can feel is the uncomfortable churning in his stomach that goes along with the memories of him. Someone he trusted, someone who let him down. That’s a difficult subject to broach, and it can fester like an infected wound if left intended.

But Apollo sounds like Kristoph sometimes. We saw it in AA5, which is, of course, an extreme circumstance. But it can come out from time to time in other ways. A phrase that slips out, the way he intones certain words, the way he signs off in his emails—little things that are harmless, but can still act as triggers.

Sometimes you need to get away from things that can remind you of your past in order to work on getting over them. If you are in love with someone who shares a similar trauma, who brings those issues from the past to light frequently just by being themselves, it might not be a healthy situation. I don’t think they would need to throw it in each other’s faces for it to become an issue. Drama.

There are more, but I probably took this more seriously than you intended. Whoops! Anyway, I hope that helps??? Maybe???? I hope you get them back together in the end because they deserve to be happy though!!!!!!!

#LONG POST #shut up krissy #if you want me to cut this please let me know #klapollo

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raunchyom · 3 years

Text

Vices, Not Virtues: Charity

[ Chapter 2 ]

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A/N: Man, this took a helluva lot longer than I thought it would. It also ended up being a helluva lot longer than I thought it would, despite what I said on the last chapter. Oops. Hope y’all like long fics ^^’ Tagging: @devintrinidad

word count: 3k || warnings: n/a

Since arriving in the Devildom, you’d been perpetually busy.

Whether baking with Luke or shopping with Asmo, reading with Satan or snacking with Beel, practicing magic with Solomon or playing body pillow for Belphie, going to class or doing mountains of homework-- it was always something, and it always added up to a very full schedule.

Today was no different. Lucifer had insisted on keeping you until you were practically asleep in his study last night, only relenting because you had class the next day. And it wasn’t as if you could fall asleep when you got back to your room-- you had things due tomorrow, and a full schedule to try and get back on track of.

You’d mostly succeeded on the homework front, even finishing with enough time for a solid 4 hours of sleep that night. The pre-class D.D.D. tutorial you’d promised to Simeon happened right on schedule, and you successfully stayed awake for your entire first and second periods. You snuck out of third period to help Asmo with his latest fashion emergency, then managed the rest of third and fourth period without a hitch. You spent lunch listening to the newest anime-oriented drama from Levi, then attended the last of your classes. A text popped up from Beel just thirty minutes before school was over that he made a mistake, and needed your advice. You went ahead and offered to help clean the kitchen, already guessing what had happened. Overall, it was a pretty standard day.

Well, standard or not, once you’d gotten back to your room-- and finished cleaning up the wreckage that Beel had severely understated in his messages-- it was late, with a lot left to do. You opened your door, mentally blocking out how much time it should take to complete everything. Your math left you confident that you could get 4 hours of sleep again tonight, maybe even 5 if you really focused. You set your backpack down, feeling better, and flopped into your desk chair. The second your butt hit the cushion, you felt your D.D.D. buzz from your pocket.

You groaned, head hitting the desk with a soft ‘thunk’. Didn’t your phone know that you were busy?

As if it could hear your thoughts, the device vibrated again, eliciting a sigh. Pity party successfully waylaid, you dug your D.D.D. out of your pocket and checked the notifications.

It was a string of texts, all from Mammon. First he asked what you were doing, then where you were. The next one said to forget both of those; he needed you to come help him with homework in his room. When you hadn’t answered fast enough, he began to spam you with angry emojis.

He was acting like a brat, but that was his version of begging. He was always struggling in his classes, and your tutoring usually helped; you couldn’t fault him for wanting to improve his grades. And so, ignoring everything you had to do, you decided to help him. After all, isn’t that what being a good friend is all about?

You stood up, tossing your backpack on again. If you factored your study session into your schedule, that would put you at 4 hours of sleep tops. No, the likelihood it would only take an hour was slim; probably 3.5 hours of sleep. Another text-- make that two-- made your D.D.D. buzz again; both demanding you reply, the second saying you didn’t have a choice in whether to help. ...Maybe 2.5 hours.

Your first knock on his door was met with silence, and you briefly considered leaving to do your own homework. But no-- you came to help, you should help.

“Mammon?” You tried again, knocking louder.

“Finally! Get in here already!” He yelled through the door.

Mammon was on his couch, backpack tossed a good ways away from him. Though he had a textbook on his coffee table, and plenty of papers scattered across the surface, he didn’t seem to be working on anything specific. It didn’t help that he was upside-down on his couch; his legs thrown over the back cushion and head hanging off the front. It wasn’t the typical doing-homework pose, but far be it from you to tell what Mammon was thinking.

“You sure took your time!” He tossed his D.D.D. to the side, pointing an accusing finger in your direction.

“I walked straight here when I got your texts.”

“Yeah, well, you should already know when I want ya here.” He huffed, then practically fell off the couch amidst his panicked backpedaling. “Not-- Not that I want ya here, I mean! The Great Mammon doesn’t want some human around, crampin’ his style! I just--!” He rolled into a normal sitting position, the redness in his face no longer the result of being upside-down.

“You wanted my help with homework, right?” You tried to throw him a life raft, but it went right over his head.

“What? Homework? We had homework!?” He asked, now looking frazzled for a different reason. You took a deep breath, briefly wondering how this scatterbrain remembered to put pants on every morning.

“Mammon, why did you ask me to come over?” You finally asked, trying to get him back on track.

“I asked… oh! Yeah! I uh…” He glanced at his table, a mess of papers that he hadn’t looked at since dumping them out of his folder. He looked back up at you expectantly. “Mc, do you have any money?”

...Oh, so that’s what this was about. It was hard not to feel disappointed that he had lied to get you here, but at least he got right to the point. “Yeah, sure, what happ-- ah, whatever. How much do you need?”

You reached for your wallet, hoping to just fork over the grimm and go back to what you were doing. He hadn’t asked in a while, so this was probably legit. Probably. He would promise to pay it back, with every intention of doing so, and then forget to, or run into more debt. It was a vicious cycle; you were happy to not be a part of it. Well, at least it was nice while it lasted.

“What? No, that’s not-- ya shouldn’t be handin’ out money like that!” Mammon nagged, effectively freezing your hand in midair. If he didn’t want money, why was he asking? “You don’t needta give your stuff away to people just ‘cause they ask, that’s how people take advantage of ya!”

At first, his behavior didn’t make sense, but the gears started turning on what was going on. You shoved your wallet back into place, trying not to sound as exhausted as you felt. “Is this because of Lucifer?”

“Lucifer?” He echoed, confused.

“You know, his whole idea of giving you guys a week to…” You gestured vaguely, not wanting to say ‘teach me to sin’ for multiple reasons; “uh, talk to me?”

“Whaddya mean Lucifer?” He sounded affronted at the thought. “It was MY idea!” He huffed, crossing his arms.

“You thought of this?” It was surprising, but you felt inclined to believe him. He didn’t like to admit that he cared; he wouldn’t suddenly lie about being worried enough to bring it up to his brothers. Either way, as sweet as it was, good intentions wouldn’t save your grades. But maybe if he had gotten you into this mess, he could get you out of it. At the very least, he might be able to get you out of today’s lecture. “Mammon, I really appreciate it, but I don’t have time to--”

“Exactly! Ya never have time!” He launched up off the couch, flinging his arms out dramatically as he spoke. “You’re always givin’ it away to everybody else! Just like your stuff, and your grimm! Do ya ever even spend anythin’ on yourself?”

“Of course I do.” You replied easily. He made it seem as if you were emptying your pockets for anyone who asked. You weren’t some human piggy bank, you bought yourself stuff all the time.

“Oh yeah? When’s the last time ya bought somethin’ for yourself, then? And food doesn’t count! Neither does stuff ya need for school, or takin’ care of yourself. When’s the last time ya bought something just ‘cause ya wanted it?” He asked, hands on his hips.

“I, uh…” That was a lot of rules. You tried to flip back in your mind. You weren’t exactly a big spender; certainly not since you’d arrived in the Devildom with so little time to work for extra cash. To Mammon’s point, you could only think of things you bought out of necessity. A snack when you didn’t have time for lunch. A new pair of shoes when yours were falling apart. Some toiletries when you needed them. A new uniform when your jacket was torn beyond repair, and you didn’t want to bother anyone about it.

“But you’re always buyin’ stuff for others!” Mammon let your thoughts wander enough to make his point, but he had to cut in eventually. “Remember how I usedta ask for money all the time?”

“I mean-- it’s been a while.” It was a meager attempt at defense, but it was true. You couldn’t remember the last time he came to your door, brown-nosing his way into your pockets.

“Yeah, well, when ya first got here, you gave your grimm away freely, always buyin’ stuff for people-- so I thought ya had a buncha money. Then I heard Lucifer sayin’ ya don’t have much, and you were sayin’ ya wanted to save some, so I stopped askin’! But nobody else knows, so they keep askin’, and you keep givin’ it to ‘em! I know you don’t have stuff to be givin’ away either, I’ve been through--” He caught himself before he admitted it out loud, but you were well aware of the fact that Mammon had rooted through your stuff at the beginning. He had stopped at this point… you hoped. “No one here wants to take advantage of ya, but they don’t know they’re doin’ it. Ya gotta tell people not to ask for so much-- I mean, I’m the avatar of greed, and I feel bad takin’ your stuff! I bet the others would feel the same!”

It was hard to tell whether he cared more about your financial situation or about making his brothers feel guilty. “I think--”

“Don’t even get me started about your time!” Mammon didn’t let you get a word in edgewise, advancing towards you as he ranted. He didn’t realize he was doing it; the action a subconscious result of his rising emotions. You took a few steps back, but soon bumped into furniture and had to stop. “You’re always busy, and ya got tons’a homework, but ya never say no when people ask for help! Do ya even have time to be here right now? Or do ya have somethin’ you could be doin’ instead?”

It was a fair point, but hard to take from the one who’d brought you here. “It’s fine, I like to help out.”

“Help yourself out!” This was the second time within 24 hours that you’d gotten chewed out for not taking proper care of yourself. There was a familiar churning in your gut-- a leaden mixture of guilt and anxiety. Not to mention a dash of adrenaline from being within range of an angry demon. That last one happened a lot around here, though. “Try sayin’ no to people once in awhile! You stretch yourself too thin and eventually there’s gonna be nothin’ left!”

Mammon finally took a breath, letting his shoulders slump as he exhaled. He averted his eyes, his voice much softer when he next spoke. “Besides… I miss ya, Mc. You keep givin’ away your time, and overworkin’ yourself, and all of a sudden… I never see ya anymore.”

His gaze flitted back to your face, and it finally dawned on him just how close he’d gotten. He was nearly pinning you against his pool table at this point. His face turned bright red, and he leapt backwards, crossing his arms to maintain his pride. “A-Anyway! You don’t owe anyone anything. So stop acting like it.”

“I don’t act like--”

“Oi, and don’t interrupt the Great Mammon!”

You rolled your eyes, but conceded. He had been difficult from his very first text tonight, it was probably easier to just humor him at this point.

“Ya play therapist for the house all the time. Ya mediate fights, listen to people’s problems, give out advice when you’re asked-- even when ya don’t know what to say. Maybe it’s about time ya let us know when ya aren’t up to it. I mean, no one's gonna fault ya for takin’ a vacation day.” It wasn’t a perfect metaphor, but it conveyed his point well enough. “The house has been a lot calmer since ya got here. Everybody knows it-- you do too, dontcha?”

It was true that you’d been complimented on your demon-wrangling skills by many people before. ...Including the brothers, oftentimes. “Well, yeah, but you guys should always be able to come to me. I want to be there for you.”

“Well I wanna be there for you, too!” Mammon blurted, looking desperate. Well, until he realized what he said, his expression then switching to panic as he frantically backpedaled. “I mean-- we do! T-They do! Or-- everyone else does, but I-I’ve got better stuff to… Ah, what am I sayin’? We all wanna be there for ya, Mc. But that means when ya have a hard day, and we ask if ya have time... ya gotta say no. How would you feel, if ya learned that we all forced ourselves to be around ya?”

A pang of guilt shot through your chest. “It isn’t like that; you guys aren’t a burden. I want to help--”

“Yeah, and I wanna sell Levi’s expensive shut-in stuff for extra cash, but sometimes ya gotta think about what ya wanna do versus what ya can do. I’m not very… I mean, I dunno about uh, emotions and... all that, but…” Suddenly Mammon’s tsundere thing made a lot of sense; he was a lot better at denial than candor. “Well, ya can’t help us if ya can’t help yourself!”

Again, he had a point. This time he wasn’t being a hypocrite, so it made it harder to come up with a rebuttal. “Everyone has bad days, I don’t have to shut people out whenever I’m not at one hundred percent.”

“Man, you sure are lucky Lucifer has a soft spot for ya. All this back talk would get me in hot water.” Mammon sighed. “Just listen to me for once, wouldja?”

You crossed your arms, unimpressed. He chose to interpret it as a yes.

“I know ya wanna have some free time. And I know ya wanna keep some of your money saved up, whatever it’s for. Well… If sayin’ no is hard for ya, maybe we can start ya off with a test drive.”

“A… test drive...?” Nope, he lost you.

“Y’see, I’ll take the fall tonight. I’m gonna say we’re studyin’. Or that I’m still givin’ ya my peace. But… go back to your room, do whatcha want. Don’t matter what-- homework, sleepin’, whatever. Just don’t let anyone take it from ya. Matter’a fact, if someone asks for ya: practice sayin’ no. If ya gotta give ‘em a reason, tell ‘em it’s my fault.”

“You sure?” He was essentially offering to be your guard dog for the night, which was quite a monumental task-- especially since people already assumed Mammon was at fault for things in general, and wouldn’t hesitate to take their anger out on him.

“Yeah, yeah; just don’t go and think I’m gonna keep doin’ this forever! Ya gotta learn to say no on your own, without me havin’ to do it for you all the time! I got goldie to worry about, I don’t need another credit card overspendin’ itself and-- w-well, I just don’t wanna haveta deal with it if ya run outta money and come cryin’ to-- oi!” You wrapped him in a hug, able to feel the shock run up his spine at your sign of gratitude.

“I-I toldja, I ain’t doin’ it for you!” Mammon protested, but near instantly caved; stealing the chance to hug you back. He puffed out a defeated breath, adding, “I’m gonna watch out for ya human, I mean it. I wanna make sure you can keep gettin’ better, so… If ya ever gotta turn someone down in the future, or tell ‘em no for any reason, and ya can’t bring yourself to do it… You can always tell ‘em it’s on me. I’m your first man, you can always depend on me to help ya out.”

“Thank you, really.” He held you for just a beat longer before he relented, switching back to his brusque demeanor the moment he let go.

“Yeah, yeah, keep thankin’ me and you’re gonna waste all your free time before it even starts. Get outta here already! I got stuff to do too, y’know.” He waved you off, but he was refusing eye contact for a reason.

Leaving Mammon’s room, your steps felt light, and a rush of warmth flooded your chest as you recalled his praise. Sure, it was followed by nagging, or saying it wasn’t always good for you-- but it was definitely nice to hear that the brothers really did think of you as their confidant.

You stood a little taller; almost as if you felt a sense of pride.

#om!#obey me #obey me swd #obey me mammon #om mammon #obey me x reader #obey me mammon x reader #gn!mc #obey me fanfic #obey me fanfiction #sfw #fluff #comfort

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makeste · 4 years

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BnHA Chapter 283: I'M MARY POPPINS Y’ALL

Previously on BnHA: Everyone was all, “Tomura what do you have?” and Tomura was all,” a quirk bullet!” and they were all, “NO!!” He then threw the bullet at Aizawa, who ironically actually did have a knife, and since no one bothered to say “no!!” this time he proceeded to CHOP OFF HIS OWN LEG. Just, schwoop. Lopped it right off. Didn’t even fucking care. Anyway so then Tomura was all, “you know what who even needs quirk bullets” and somehow broke free from both Deku and Ryuukyuu to go claw off Aizawa’s face. Thankfully Todoroki “I've spent the past eight chapters puttering around waiting for the coolest moment to strike” Shouto finally decided to join the fray by impaling Tomura, and everyone was all, “ahaha, classic Shouto”, and Tomura was all, “don’t worry though I’m fine”, and it seems like he really is now, since he’s finally regenerated and all his wounds have healed again! The chapter ended with Gigantomachia stampeding towards Jakku, which is super terrible, but what else is fucking new.

Today on BnHA: The Gunga kids spend a few pages standing around letting all that trauma soak in nice and deep as Machia rampages on towards Jakku. Back in the Shigaraki Wastes, the heroes regroup, which mostly consists of the remaining conscious adults tearfully being all “you kids get out of here... save yourselves...” and the kids being all “YOU JUST SIT THERE AND CHILL, DAD” and “[EXPLETIVES]” and “I’M YOUNG AND FILLED WITH RIGHTEOUS SHOUNEN RAGE”, all of which is very entertaining to me and makes me very proud. Anyway so then Tomura’s body sort of explodes a bit, and he’s all, “what”, and then it finally sinks in that he might have popped out of the toaster early, so he tries to end the fight right there and then with another round of Decay. Except that Deku counters it by SPONTANEOUSLY LEARNING HOW TO FLY, which is probably SO CONFUSING for all the non-Gran-and-Kacchan people around, which is just one of the many things I love about it. And the other things I love about it are that it’s (1) THE MOST BADASS THING EVER, and (2) just, really fucking great. So yeah. Rage, Deku, rage.

OH NO MY BABIES

don’t tell me. I’m not sure I want to know what it is they’re looking at. how many of the pros are fucking dead now ffffmg

also that is an extremely intriguing chapter title, though. 75? as in percent?? oh my god is something finally going to go fucking right for our heroes. or at least, you know, less wrong

OOOF

dammit Momo he was supposed to go to sleep! WHAT THE HELL WAS ALL OF THAT MATH FOR, THEN. did he grow bigger, or did she just somehow miscalculate the dosage, or is he finally going to go night-night halfway to Jakku?

btw Momo I’m not actually mad at you, you’re still the only one who fucking did anything at all. if anyone tries to give you shit, just look them in the eye and ask them “okay and how many things did YOU do?”, and they’ll be like, “oh shit, none”, and you’ll be all “yeah that’s what I fucking thought” because YEAH

OH MY GOD SERO ANGST

I have never seen Sero this badly shaken before. it’s somehow so shocking?? holy shit you guys, I know I’ve been saying for ages “lolo all these kids about to be traumatized af” but somehow it’s one thing to know it’s coming, and another to finally actually see it. oh god

anyway let’s just hope all of the grown-ups aren’t actually fucking dead. but based on all of the kids’ expressions, it really feels like a lot of them might be, and that’s just... ...

and they had to see it. right? is that what this is implying?? holy shit. they watched it all happen. that’s it, the rest of this arc is cancelled, please proceed directly to the emergency therapy arc right now

TOKO!!

holy shit look at the size of that rock that fell on the medical tent. and DS pulling people out of the wreckage. it really feels like everywhere you turn this arc, the intrepid young scamps of U.A.’s first year hero class are the ones out here keeping things one step from total disaster

oh shit

excuse the hell out of me young Momo but what the hell is up with this use of the word “dead” with the implied “like everyone else” hanging there at the end?? what is up with that. that’s a very bad sentence I don’t like that at ALL

and what the actual hell is this panel of FATGUM AND TAMAKI IN THE MIDDLE OF THE CARNAGE, TWO PEOPLE WHOSE NAMES I’M QUITE SURE ARE ON THIS CONTRACT OF “PEOPLE WHO AREN’T ALLOWED TO DIE” WHICH HORIKOSHI IMPLICITLY AGREED TO THE MOMENT I STARTED READING THE MANGA. BOY WHAT

JESUS MOTHER F. CHRIST

THAT’S. THAT’S, UH

OH THANK FUCK

I mean, I already knew they survived, though. so WHY AM I STILL SO FUCKING ANXIOUS. good grief

and in before Majestic fucking dies on the next page, having saved the children with his very last act. I fucking hate you Majestic, you blue-balling child-preserving magnificent wizard bastard

HE FRISBEED THEM TO SAFETY GAH

WHY COULDN’T YOU DO THAT TO MACHIA THOUGH. BUT AT LEAST HE SAVED THE BABIES. TOO BAD HE’S FUCKING DEAD hahaha sob sob sob

is anyone still alive?? did the guys who were fighting off Snoopy Sno-Cone and RD back at the mansion at least make it out in one piece??

(ETA: from here on out all of these guys shall be referred to as Schrodinger's Heroes until further notice.)

so now Mineta is questioning whether or not their Smart Momo Plan even fucking did anything, which. same, Mineta, honestly. but it must have!! right?? ????

anyway so here’s some more panels of everyone dying do you want to see them. sure. why not

can we get back to the Tomura fight now. I’ve had just about enough of this, I’d like to see some 75% business now before this turns into the most depressing chapter of all time

BOOOOOOO

goddammit. well for now my money’s on Machia collapsing just as they make it back to Jakku. so Momo’s plan does eventually work, but the League still makes it back to Tomura thus ensuring more shenanigans can take place. goddamn, lol, just when I thought the arc was nearing its climax. feels like it just fucking respawned with a full life bar

also Toga is really looking... not great. I’m so scared for whoever she ends up fighting after this. OCHAKO MY SWEET BABY GIRL PLEASE WATCH OUT

WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE

PLEASE ARREST HIM FASTER. holy fuck if you fucking screw this up and he gets rescued I SWEAR TO GOD

oh wait is he just here to provide more backstory on Gigantomachia

GO BURNIN’, YOU GOT THIS. also, gonna be honest, at this point I really would not mind if Machia did a little less living for Tomura and a bit more dying

FINALLY!!!

FKFKF Aizawa not looking too good oh god. and Deku looks like he’s about to spontaneously develop ALL OF HIS REMAINING QUIRKS JUST LIKE THAT ON THE SPOT, FUCK YOU TOMURA

oh my god DON’T GET DISTRACTED!!

Shouto’s arrival is either about to make Endeavor more useless than ever, or suddenly a whole lot LESS useless, and right now it’s up in the air and I am excited but also scared

EXCUSES EXCUSES

BLAH BLAH BLAH. “SORRY I’M LATE, I WAS SAVING PEOPLE’S LIVES,” Shouto lies through his teeth, clearly not aware that Tomura has a built in GPS and knows full well that Shouto was actually only a few feet behind Bakugou and Deku and so that explanation doesn’t fly at all. the real truth must be something so embarrassing that he’s ashamed to admit it. did you get lost. did you run into an NPC who wouldn’t let you pass until you had completed some sort of quest

THERE YOU ARE KACCHAN, I WAS WONDERING

just as enraged as Deku! it’s almost like he just witnessed his sensei chopping off his own leg and subsequently almost being murdered or something

(ETA: actually lol I think he’s mad at Deku, for taking off earlier and leaving him behind with Gran. though there’s no law that says he can’t be mad about two things at once! anyway so do you guys think that being beaten to the punch by Deku here may perhaps frustrate this young man and contribute to his decision to return the favor at some point later on in this battle, perhaps with dire consequences? hmm.)

anyway so if you all are keeping up with the math, and I think you are, it seems like just about every one of the adult pros is either down for the count (Aizawa, Gran), or recovering (Endeavor, Ryuukyuu??), or Might As Well Not Even Be There (a certain TWO OTHER PEOPLE WHO ARE STILL IN A TIME OUT AND HAD BETTER BE THINKING GOOD AND HARD ABOUT WHAT THEY’VE DONE. OR MORE PRECISELY, DID NOT DO OR EVEN ATTEMPT TO DO). anyway so all of that means that the only ones actually ready and raring to go here in Round 2 against the newly regenerated and POSSIBLY HAS HIS DECAY QUIRK BACK Shigaraki Tomura are... drum roll...!

okay but FUCK YOU GUYS though oh my god YOU’RE EVEN RUINING THE DRUM ROLL

DID YOU NOT EVEN NOTICE HIS LEG BEFORE?!?!? holy -- can I -- can I please just slap them, I --

anyway so RockLockRock looks like he has something to say here. probably going to tell Deku to take Aizawa and run, as if Deku isn’t the fucking glue holding this entire operation together at this point now that Aizawa is KOed. can you believe these guys are so incompetent they’ve actually got me arguing in favor of the child soldiers now, what even

...fuck

shit. that face. he’s ready to die to give them all a chance. he knows he wouldn’t last two seconds against Tomura and yet he’s willing to sacrifice it all. damn it RLR... okay fine your time out is done now, but I’m still calling your parents

unfortunately, you’ll never believe it, but Deku doesn’t seem all that inclined to listen to this man telling him to bail and save his own skin sob

ngl though I am living for the Enraged Vengeance Deku we’ve been seeing in these last couple chapters. maybe now everyone will stop dismissing him as just a soft boi who always eats his vegetables and doesn’t swear, and remember that in truth he’s actually a mildly unhinged feral child with an infinite pain tolerance and a god-given talent for never listening to any life-prolonging advice that adults give him ever

oop don’t tell me he’s gonna do the Decay thing again, shit

-- uh

“eh?” lmao what the fuck. my boy's torso just opened up like a fucking door hinge and all he can say is “eh.” this fucking manga

like he’s seriously just calmly standing there trying to assess what the heck has gone wrong

you really don’t feel pain do you. “haha lol what why is my arm falling off I thought I fucking ascended”

OH MY GOD

IT’S OCTOBER THIRD. looool the fuck

Tomura. my sweet little S+ ranked death machine with an A rank in knowledge. who’s spent the past 15-20 minutes battling to the death with the number one fucking hero and all his pals. who all just HAPPENED to be there all ready and waiting to fight him the instant he woke up. Tomura. buddy. did it really only just occur to you that maybe something went wrong somewhere along the line. that maybe things were not, in fact going according to keikaku. that maybe the heroes didn’t just sit around waiting for you to finish cooking in your villain bake oven. like please forgive my impudence but TOMURA ARE YOU STUPID, is what I’m saying, I guess. but gently

(ETA: SHIGARAKI TOMURA, WHOSE ARM IS CURRENTLY DANGLING BY A THREAD: “hold up lol what day is it.”)

I really like how Deku’s just crying nonstop this entire time though. but like, you know. crying with RAGE

lol and he’s figured it out as well, and I fucking love the connection his mind made, look at this

sudden feelings of solidarity. “WE’RE NOT SO DIFFERENT, YOU AND I” lmao

AHH MIRKO

how does she still have two legs?? Horikoshi I can’t believe you forgot how many legs your own favorite character has. but anyways yes this has been your friendly reminder that Mirko saved EVERYONE and should have a battleship named after her

okay NOW he’s doing the thing

good job Tomura you finally got them!! good thing none of them can fly, or Float. RIGHT, DEKU

AHAHAHAHAHA YESSSSS

YOU LOVE TO SEE IT. AND A BLACKWHIP/FLOAT COMBO, TOO! TOMURA, YOU WERE SAYING??

(ETA: he even grabbed Kacchan too. “I can fly by myself!” YOU SHUSH MISTER.)

(ETA 2: and what I also love about this is that we know the SIXQUIRKS are seemingly in tune with Deku’s emotions, so it honestly makes perfect sense that in the heat of the moment with Tomura threatening to kill all these people that he cares about, the quirk just basically acts on his instinct to save and doesn’t stop to ask questions. we’re saving everyone, no buts. and he even activates Float at long last, acting on that same instinct. honestly Kacchan had the exact right idea the whole time, all the way back in chapter 217. “it’ll activate when he’s in trouble, right?” exactly.)

NO GRAN STOP NO ONE ASKED FOR THESE FEELS

OH MY GOD

NEVER HAVE I STANNED THIS BOY SO HARD. HOT DAMN

he’s so fucking mad. omg??! omg

okay so I’m gonna try my best to explain why I love this so much lol. all right. so the thing is, it’s actually so rare for Deku to actually take the reins like this. even though he’s the main character, even though he’s All Might’s heir, his personality is such that he genuinely doesn’t mind being in the backseat and is perfectly content to share the spotlight with others, or even relinquish it completely. BnHA has had... how many arcs so far? hold up let me check

-- okay I just checked and it’s 18. so, 18 arcs. and out of all those arcs, Deku has had a solo fight in approximately... five of them. and two of those fights were against Bakugou and Todoroki, respectively, so he was still sharing the spotlight even then. aside from that, he’s fought Muscular, Gentle, and Overhaul (oh, and Shinsou, I guess). that’s it! and it’s been almost 300 chapters! and again, he’s the main character. in a shounen manga. like seriously though, that is wild

and so seeing him here like this on the last page, ready to throw hands with Tomura, presumably while using Blackwhip as some sort of physical barrier to coat his attacks and prevent Tomura from trying any more Decay shenanigans with him? dude. I FELT THAT HYPE. it’s just a really effective way of keeping me from getting Main Character Fatigue like I might get in most other shounen series. because Deku doesn’t get the spotlight all that often in comparison, it still feels fresh to me, especially now with him actually going up against the Big Bad. just, idk what else to say except “hell yeah” lol

anyway, so I don’t even know how long it’s gonna last, and I expect that Kacchan and Shouto aren’t going to be content to just sit back and let Deku have all the glory either (Kacchan in particular is probably frothing at the mouth already), so in all likelihood it’s probably going to be more of a 3-on-1 than a 1-on-1. and it’s also very likely to end with Tomura gaining the upper hand and trying to take OFA! and so in truth this is a very fleeting moment of triumph, and the most premature of celebrations! but even so... damn. and also I just love seeing shounen kids lose their damn minds and explode with angry determination. and I especially love seeing it with Deku, because I love the reminder that beneath that sweet, unassuming nerdy exterior lies a core of fucking steel. that look in his eyes, though. TOMURA ARE YOU SCARED. you should be a little scared, lmao

anyway. so that’s the chapter! and I’m really glad we ended on this note, not just because Deku is a badass, but also because like I was saying earlier, this was about as bad a situation as the good guys have ever been in, and I felt like the manga was starting to lose that feeling of hope that still needs to be there at its core even when things are at their darkest. idk, I feel like we needed this. Tomura got a chance to catch his breath in the last chapter, and now it’s the heroes’ turn. whew

#bnha 283 #midoriya izuku #shigaraki tomura #class 1-a #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #I just wish one of the blackwhips had been kind of dangling above him like an umbrella so my gotg 2 reference would make a bit more sense #eh but you all get it right #because... you know... the flying... and stuff #bah

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hanatiny · 3 years

Text

[8:17] The Christmas Effect

a/n: hello @atinyinwonderland~ ❄ anon here - hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it, a very merry christmas to you ♡ a/n 2 - alternate title: Of Candy Canes, Mistletoes and a Little Bit of Magic

pairing: Hongjoong, Yunho & Wooyoung x f!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2234

warnings: just to avoid confusion - this plays a few days before christmas 😚

-----

"Yunho, are you sure this is a good idea...? What if she thinks it's stupid or too cliché or whatever?"

Wooyoung fidgeted, adjusting his tie again and again as he glanced over at the taller male. He felt massively overdressed in comparison, not to mention that he was, to put it mildly, freezing his ass off in the chilly hallway of the apartment building.

"Relax, Wooyoungie! She loves us, so I'm sure she'll love what we've planned for today too~!" Yunho chirped in response, pouting a little when he noticed the wind messing up his blue mop of hair.

Both men jumped in surprise, ripped out of their thoughts by a muffled thud sounding in your apartment.

They exchanged a look - should they let themselves in and go check on you to make sure you were alright?

That decision was made obsolete as the door swung open and they were greeted by the sight of their suspiciously smug-looking girlfriend leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms.

"What are you two waiting for? Get in already, you're obviously freezing." You motioned for them to step inside your warm apartment, carefully pushing the door closed behind them.

"Do tell me why you're both here at," you paused, glancing at your wall clock as you led your two boyfriends into your kitchen and sat down at the counter, "quarter past 8 in the damn morning? On a Saturday, no less?"

"Why are you awake?" Wooyoung retorted cheekily, promptly earning himself a light smack on the back of his head by his boyfriend before wincing dramatically, "Ow..."

You giggled at the male's antics, "I love you but you're not exactly a quiet person, Woo. Anyway... where's Hongjoongie?"

"Could ask you the same thing. I thought he spent the night with you...?" Yunho tilted his head inquisitively at you.

"He did, and we stayed up late as usual. But he was gone when I woke up - hence why I fell out of bed so unceremoniously."

It was then that you both noticed Wooyoung tapping away at his phone furiously, cocking his eyebrow in faux confusion.

"What are you staring holes into my head for, huh? Can I not text my best friend in peace...?" He grumbled, pulling his hand back when you tried to reach for his phone over the counter.

You pouted before rolling your eyes and moving to get up with a sigh, "Yunnie, let me know what he's hiding... I'm gonna go get dressed so I look more like a presentable girlfriend rather than a demon from hell or something."

"Will do babe, love you!" the man in question called after you and chuckled in response as you shuffled off in the direction of your bedroom, smiling at the sound of the soft taps of your feet on the wooden floor.

Once you were certain to be out of earshot, he turned to wrestle Wooyoung for his phone, successfully using his superior height to his advantage.

"Relax, I'm not actually gonna tell her. I just wanna know what Hongjoongie said."

Wooyoung huffed, complying nonetheless as Yunho opened the message their boyfriend sent and shot the younger male a look because of the contact name, as if to ask him if he was actually serious. He got a half-hearted shrug in response.

joonghyung💙: I do wonder why I put up with you sometimes....

Wooyoung: cuz you love me, duh

joonghyung💙: ..Anyway, can you bring Y/n here asap? The boys are almost done, and I can only bribe them for so long

Yunho shook his head in amusement while typing a reply into the device.

Wooyoung: gotcha, we'll be there in 20

The phone didn't buzz with another message from Hongjoong after that, Wooyoung snatching and pocketing it in a panic when he saw you emerge from your bedroom.

You paid him no mind however and approached Yunho first, reaching up to pull him into a kiss, giggling and pulling away again when he playfully nipped at your bottom lip.

"Don't start things you won't finish, Yun- wait what's this?" You interrupted yourself upon seeing something poking out of the male's jacket pocket.

"I wanted to give these to you later but," he fumbled and retrieved the small pouch from his pocket to hand it to you, "merry early christmas."

You opened the pouch, taken by curiosity, just to find a pair of candy cane shaped earrings inside. Your eyes twinkled with happiness as you put them on.

"I love them so much! Thank you~!" You moved to embrace your tall boyfriend, Wooyoung gently stopping you with a hand on your chest and spun you to face him instead.

You blinked at him and tilted your head, seeing a smirk dancing on his lips. Something rustling above your head, you glanced upwards to be met with the sight of a mistletoe before looking back at the male in front of you.

"I helped him pick them out for you," Wooyoung pushed a strand of hair out of your face to admire the accessory dangling from your ear while he explained, "don't I deserve a thank you for that, doll~?"

Before you could even formulate a coherent answer, he dipped you and pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that undeniably left you breathless when he pulled away again.

You groaned lowly, "You're so over-the-top, Woo..."

"But that's why you love me, right?"

He was met with a cheeky grin, "Maybe~"

"Maybe?!" Yunho chuckled, ignoring Wooyoung's indignant squeal and interlocking his arm with yours, nudging you gently, "Come on, we've got somewhere to be. Sannie said he had something to show you~"

You raised your eyebrow inquisitively at how secretive he was being but ignored it in favor of the pouty, shorter of the two grasping your free hand.

"You know I love you both and Hongjoongie lots, I'm just teasing...~"

Wooyoung gave a low and happy hum in response, swinging your hands together lightly as you exited your apartment together.

You giggled while you heard the soft click of your door falling shut, stealing thoughtful, hopefully subtle glances at your boyfriends as you walked between them in the direction of the company they worked at - KQ, if you hadn't mixed anything up.

You considered it somewhat of an odd thing that you hadn't met either of them any sooner, you mused, considering how close you lived to their workplace.

But then again... you didn't really go out on your own much and they usually had quite packed schedules, so the fact that they not only met you in the first place but continued to make an active effort to find time for you in their busy life as idols was as near to a real-life miracle as you'd get.

And you wouldn't give it up for anything in the world. These boys were your world, and they loved you as much as you loved them.

You were so lost in your own head that you didn't even notice where you were, only now realizing you were standing in the building's main elevator as Wooyoung snapped his fingers in front of your face a couple of times.

"Earth to Y/n...? You good, love?" You blinked incredulously at him, as if you hadn't just spaced out for a solid five minutes or so, "Yeah, I'm fine. Was just thinking."

"Careful, don't strain your pretty little head too much." Your taller boyfriend hummed in amusement, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before ruffling your hair lightly.

"I'm not a baby, Yunnie..." You mumbled with a huff, patting down your hair while the elevator doors slid open and you all stepped out into the hallway.

Wooyoung flicked your forehead and chuckled, "You're our baby though."

"True. Anyway, I'm gonna go find Joongie. He owes me an apology for leaving without saying anything..."

You playfully blew kisses at your two lovers before jogging off in the direction of the man in question's studio, knocking softly at the door before stepping inside.

Judging by his lack of a reaction he must've not heard you at all, certainly not a surprise considering how loud his music was blasting.

You snuck up behind Hongjoong and placed your hands on his shoulders with a grin, startling him. He jolted with a high-pitched yelp, turning his music off and saving his progress on his file before whirling around in his chair and pulling you into his lap as he glared playfully.

"You sure scared me, princess... What's the occasion? Bit late for a Halloween gag." He laughed, caressing your neck gently while silently noting the earrings you were wearing - a gift he lended Yunho money for.

You rolled your eyes at his lame joke, punching his chest mockingly. "You know what the occasion is. You were gone when I woke up... didn't even text me."

He shrugged nonchalantly, "You know how work is, precious. No rest for the wicked...~"

"I know indeed," you sighed softly, "I just hoped I'd get at least a morning with you, it's been ages since our last one."

Hongjoong's face flushed at the realization that you were right, but you were thankfully too distracted by the hushed whispers and hurried steps outside the door as Wooyoung bolted down the hallway with Yunho in tow.

"These two are gonna be the death of us all... they're probably off to find San, but I think we should follow them to make sure they're not breaking anything again."

"Agreed." You rubbed your forehead in exasperation while Hongjoong nodded at you with a smile, feeling his phone buzz faintly in his pocket. He glanced at it, moving to gently push you off of him as he got up.

You snuggled into his side with a whine as he wrapped his arm around you, leaving the studio together and heading towards the practice room.

Hongjoong blew some of his hair out of his face, "Oh right! San said what he wants you to see is a surprise, so I'll have to cover your eyes for a bit..~"

You tilted your head questioningly at your boyfriend before shaking off your suspicious feelings and letting him do as he said while he led you to your destination.

You didn’t hear door opening so you assumed someone else had opened it beforehand, soft music reaching your ears instead.

Unable to keep your curiosity in check any longer, you reached up to pry Hongjoong's hands away from your face before he did it himself, "Hongjoongie I love you but I swear, if this is-" "Ta-da~!"

On any other day, you would have gotten upset about him for both hiding something from you and interrupting you while speaking.

Today was not such a day.

As you took in the sight of the unusually dark room, you concluded that the fairy lights giving off a warm glow must've been Yunho's idea while the small prettily decorated christmas tree in the corner - with a few candy canes dangling from the branches, you noted with an amused grin, was Wooyoung’s.

A fond smile grew on Hongjoong's face when your gaze finally landed on the large table in the middle of the room and you stepped closer to it, remaining unaware of the three men now all watching you from where they stood in the doorway.

You counted a total of four chairs around the neatly arranged table, one a different color than the others, before realizing that an array of all your favorite foods was set up for you to taste and enjoy.

"You guys did all this? For me? You shouldn't have...~" You sobbed happily, racing to embrace your boyfriends.

Hongjoong blushed faintly, thankful that you weren't aware and that they were able to pull off this little scheme, "W-well... we had a little help from the others," he glanced at the table shyly, "especially Seonghwa."

"I figured as much but still..." You trailed off with a grin, "I feel a little bad because I don't have anything prepared for any of you."

Wooyoung giggled, "Your love is more than enough for us!"

"We just wanted to give something back." Yunho chimed in, followed by Hongjoong, "Yeah, you do so much more for us than you think... our sweet, precious princess whom we love dearly."

Your face flushed a bright red, unsure of what to say as you instead went ahead and gave each of your boyfriends a loving kiss before dragging them to the table to eat.

Their big and genuine smiles said it all as you sat and laughed together, a question suddenly popping into your mind, “How did you manage to get the others out of here, anyway...? They’re always around here somewhere.”

Wooyoung’s eyes lit up, mouth stuffed with food, “We bribed-” Yunho slapped a hand over the younger male’s mouth, “What Wooyoungie means to say is we convinced them to give us some alone time with you... we don’t get to have much time with just the four of us, after all.”

“Indeed,” Hongjoong nodded, “and you know, I may have also convinced our manager to give us a few additional days off for the holidays...”

“You WHAT?!”

“Yeah. Merry christmas..?” He chuckled awkwardly, looking down at his lap while playing with one of his rings.

You hummed softly in mild amusement, “Truly a christmas miracle, all of this and all of you.”

-----

Taglist:

@galaxteez @inkigayeo @nightqueennyx @truebluejoong @twancingyunhoe @yunhoiseyecandy

#atinytreasureexchange #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez scenario #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong #hongjoong fluff #ateez yunho #yunho #yunho fluff #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung fluff #poly!ateez #i need the tags to work this one time....#like really badly #praying ✊#hanatiny writes

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the--highlanders · 3 years

Text

The Spaceport

A conversation in a spaceport bar leaves Jamie feeling a bit confused.

on ao3.

“So.” Leaning into her chair, Sam tilted her her head back, her eyes drifting over towards the Doctor. He had made it to the bar, leaning across it to talk to the barkeeper, one fist held up to his ear with his index and pinky fingers sticking out. Whatever he was miming was totally inscrutable to Jamie, but the barkeeper seemed to understand it well enough, straightening up and wandering away into the back room. Shrugging to herself, Sam swung her feet up onto the Doctor’s chair, crossing one leg over the other quite delicately for someone wearing boots that looked like they were made of more metal than leather.

She was… a strange girl, Sam. Good strange, Jamie was quick to silently tell himself. There was a clear, no-nonsense way about her that he liked. It could verge on brusque, at times, but there was always a twinkle of humour in her eyes as she spoke, and she had a quick, wry tongue. And it was not often that someone could keep pace with the Doctor’s enthusiasm, either. She had managed admirably, occupying him for a solid half hour in an animated discussion about spaceship engines and the merits of various fuels. Their verbal sparring had left Jamie with nothing to do but nurse his drink and periodically check his watch, wondering if Ben and Polly might be kind enough to arrive a few minutes early.

They hadn’t, in the end. And so the Doctor had gone to ask the barkeeper if he could borrow some sort of contraption to check on them. But left alone with Sam, he did not feel nearly so awkward as he had been expecting. A few months ago, he might not have known what to make of her, with her close-cropped hair and firm, oil-greased-palm handshake and trousers absolutely covered in straps and pockets and holsters for tools. Now, though, he could see more clearly that he was the anomaly, perched a bit too politely on a rusty metal stool in a run-down spaceport bar. He liked Sam, anyway. That was the important thing.

She was a bit like Polly, in a way, he thought. They had the same sort of sisterliness about them, not afraid to comfort but not afraid to tease, either. Idly, he wondered if Sam had any siblings. Or if Polly did. He had never thought to ask.

“You and the Doctor,” Sam carried on, swirling her drink around in its bottle. “How’d you meet him?”

Well, there was a tricky one to start. “After a battle,” he said. The Doctor had warned him over and over again about telling people too much – letting on that they were time travellers – but Sam didn’t need to know which battle he was talking about. She must have her suspicions anyway, he thought, with the way the Doctor had been talking about spaceships that he claimed would be after her time. “We lost,” he added curtly.

“Oh.” A little of the humour faded out of Sam’s eyes, replaced by apparently genuine regret. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -”

“Och, don’t worry.” He flicked one hand dismissively. “It’s been -” How long had it been? A few weeks? A few months? It felt so far away, now, after all this time with the Doctor. Not always, and definitely not at night, when he woke up sweaty and gasping from some half-remembered dream. Sometimes it only seemed like yesterday that the Doctor had plucked him off Drummossie moor. But here, sitting at a table in a seedy spaceport bar with a girl who fixed spaceships for a living – all that blood and screaming and cannonfire could have been a lifetime ago. Could have been someone else’s memories. He was glad of it, really. “Don’t worry,” he repeated. “Anyway, the Doctor was there, an’ -”

“You just took off in his spaceship,” Sam finished for him, grinning.

“It’s a wee bit more complicated than that,” Jamie protested. “He saved our lives, me an’ - an’ a few friends.”

At some point, he was sure, Sam would lean back far enough in her chair that it would topple over. The thing already had its two battered front legs off the ground, but somehow she leant back even further, tipping her head over to take a swig of her drink. Stronger than the cheap and nasty rocket fuel the spaceport sold, she had said, and she grimaced every time she swallowed. When she set the bottle down again, though, a little red circle on the label caught Jamie’s eye. Alcohol free. Strong only in its bitterness, apparently.

“Your friends who’ve gone to old Newbry’s office?” she asked.

Jamie shook his head. “Ben an’ Polly were already travellin’ with the Doctor when I met him. It was Polly that asked me tae join them.”

The bottle was halfway to Sam’s lips when she paused again. “So what happened to your other friends? Or are they hiding in that box of yours?”

“Left. Gone tae Fr-” He caught himself just in time. “Gone somewhere else. I didnae want tae go with them. Was gonnae go home, but -”

“But then you went along with the Doctor instead,” Sam finished again, nodding. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and not something Jamie had spent night after sleepless night debating with himself. Well, it had seemed obvious at the time, he supposed, in the delirious simplicity of hunger and exhaustion and adrenaline and fear. Whether it seemed obvious afterwards was a different question. He raised his own bottle to his lips, just for something to do with his hands. “Love at first sight, then, was it? With the Doctor?”

It took him a moment to realise exactly what she had meant – but when he did, any thoughts of whether he should have stayed in Scotland flew out of his head. His drink caught in his throat, leaving him coughing and spluttering and wheezing, half-doubled over to pound his fist against his stomach in the hopes of hacking the mouthful back up again. When at last he emerged, watery-eyed and hoarse, Sam was frowning at him a little bemusedly.

Well, he supposed, that was one way of distracting himself from wondering if he should have stayed behind. Not that he was too keen on repeating the experience.

“What?” he rasped out at last.

“Well, you must’ve liked him, to jump in his spaceship when you’d only just met him.”

“Polly invited me,” Jamie repeated, a bit too weakly. “No’ the Doctor.”

But Sam was smiling wistfully, like she was not really hearing him. “I did that, a long time ago. A girl asked me if I wanted to leave the backwater of a planet I grew up on.”

Despite himself, he was curious. “What happened?” The question tumbled out of his mouth before he could decide whether asking would confirm Sam’s suspicions for her. Her very wrong suspicions, he added to himself. “To her, I mean.”

Sam burst into laughter at that, though Jamie could not see what was so funny. “You’ve met her,” she said. “At the scrap shop, remember?” Frowning, Jamie thought back to the dusty little scrap shop. There had been nobody there except - “Aliye.”

“But -” He remembered Aliye, alright. It was the rest of it that was giving him trouble. Any shock he might once have felt at Sam having a wife paled before his incredulity that a human – or someone who looked so human, anyway – could be married to someone with six arms and blue skin and a face like a cat. At least the Doctor looks human. The thought drifted through his mind out of nowhere, and he scowled at it. All Sam’s questioning must be confusing him. “You’re married tae her?”

“Mmhm.” Sam was eyeing him oddly. Well, Jamie supposed, she had been born hundreds of years after him. Maybe even thousands of years. It was probably perfectly normal for women to have wives with too many limbs and alien faces. “What’re a bunch of nice people like you doing in a place like this, anyway?”

“Eh?”

“Well, you know.” Sweeping her bottle around her in a wide arc, Sam gestured at the bar around them.

It was hardly that bad, Jamie thought. Lanterns hanging from the metal beams that criss-crossed the ceiling gave out the only light, yellow and greasy, and the tables were pitted with indents from knives and blackened with blasts from the funny light-guns people had in the future, and most of the other occupants were either too loud or too quiet – but it was not that bad.

“I’ve seen worse,” he said. Sam raised her eyebrows, and he shrugged in silent admission. “Alright, maybe I haven’t. But I’d rather be here than – well, a lot of other places.” Now it was Sam’s turn to shrug. “An’ what about you? An’ Aliye? You’re nice, aren’t ye?”

That made Sam laugh, deep and loud. “If you want to put it that way, sure. But we don’t plan on staying long. We’d have been off once Aliye finished that job, if you lot hadn’t come along.”

“Sorry we kept ye.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Sam laughed again. “Best fun I’ve had in years, hijacking that spaceship. But we’ve been around this sort of place before. Your Doctor seem to know his way around, alright, but the rest of you...”

“We didnae mean tae come here,” Jamie explained. “We just – arrived.”

“Mm.” Apparently done with leaning back in her chair, Sam let its front legs crash to the floor again. “Most people who arrive somewhere by accident go sightseeing, you know. They don’t steal the local gang leader’s spaceship and almost crash it into an asteroid.”

“Aye, well.” Jamie grinned, rubbing at his shoulder a little ruefully. Crashing into the asteroid would have been a death sentence, he knew – but swerving away from the thing at the last minute had hardly been painless. “That’s what ye get, when you’re travellin’ with the Doctor. Ye learn tae accept it.” He half-turned his head, his gaze drifted over to the bar where the Doctor still stood, some wee device clutched in one hand. He was talking animatedly to the barkeeper, gesturing wildly. “I’m no’ going tae marry him,” he said, almost automatically.

“Whatever you say.” Sam was watching him too now, sighing. “Looks like he’s out of money to pay for the phone.”

Twisting around again, Jamie sighed when he saw that the Doctor's discussion with the barkeeper was starting to look a bit heated. “’Course he is,” he muttered, more to himself than to Sam. “I’d better go an’ see if he’s alright,” he added more loudly.

Sam grinned. “Here,” she said, reaching down to rummage in one of her many pockets. She withdrew her hand once with a small spanner – twice with a handful of nuts and bolts – three times with a motley collection of wrapped sweets. For one startling moment, Jamie could have believed he was looking at the Doctor, not Sam. At last, she delved in to find a palmful of tarnished silver coins. “Give him these.”

“I can’t -”

“Go on.” She held her hand out further towards him.

He took them slowly, a little jerkily, wondering all the way if she was about to pull her hand away and close her fingers around the coins. But she just broadened her smile and flexed her fingers outwards invitingly until the coins were warm and solid in his hand.

“Thanks,” he said, struggling to turn his confused frown into an appreciative smile. “I dinnae think we have anythin’ tae repay ye with -”

“Consider it a gift.” Sam was lounging back in her chair again now, the neck of her bottle held between two fingers so it dangled loosely over the table. Her eyes had moved away from Jamie, and he did not have to turn to know what – or rather, who – was making her face light up like that. “Here’s Aliye,” she said, sure enough. “Now -” She tilted her head towards the bar. “Go and help him out.”

Shrugging to himself, Jamie pushed himself up to wander a little aimlessly across the room, flashing a grin at Aliye as he passed. She waved two of her arms at him in return, but her eyes were keenly fixed on Sam.

When he was halfway to the bar, he glanced over his shoulder, looking back towards the pair of them. Aliye had sat down beside Sam, the two of them leaning their heads together conspiratorially. A moment later, Sam met Jamie’s eyes, winking at him. Cheeks reddening, he turned away.

He took in a deep breath before striding over more confidently to clap the Doctor on the back. “Here,” he said, holding out his fistful of coins. “Use these.”

#second doctor #two/jamie #fanfic archive #my writing

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loftec · 3 years

Note

Hi! in this prompt, could we know about Mickey's ex boyfriend or something? I think his name was Matt?

thank you for participating + pre NTW - Mickey's POV 👀

Anon: tell us about Matt

Yevgeny: his name was Mark

Mickey, pinching the bridge of his nose: Martin, and no. I’m not gonna tell you about Martin.

Narrator: little did Mickey know that he had zero say on the matter, let’s goooo.

April 13, 2013. Saturday.

Mickey is just off the L when his phone rings. For a moment, he considers ignoring the buzzing in his pocket as he lights up a cigarette and bounds down the metal steps. The list of people likely to call him is very limited, and most of that list is very welcome to fuck off to voicemail on a Saturday evening. Work can fuck off, telemarketers can doubly fuck off. On this particular Saturday, even his extended family can fuck off. It might be Martin, wondering where he is, but he can quite frankly also fuck off, seeing as Mickey is no more than five minutes away from their agreed rendezvous.

That only leaves one, and the thought alone is enough for Mickey to step out of the flow of people rushing to and from the platform, and check the damned call. Seeing the ID, he quickly picks up, pressing the phone to his ear.

”What the fuck?” he asks, unsure if he should be annoyed or alarmed and figuring this would best cover a bit of both.

”Hey dad,” his son says, unexpectedly.

”Yev?” Mickey says, inching towards annoyed. At least his son is unharmed enough to dial a phone, so it can’t be too bad. ”What’s wrong? Where’s Sonya?”

”She’s right here,” Yevgeny says, he sounds fine, normal, good, ”we can’t find the cake poking thing.”

Staring at the empty space in front of him, Mickey feels the rest of his mood swan dive head-first into annoyed. ”The what?”

”The thing we use to poke cakes, to check if they’re done? We can’t find it and we need it, the cake is almost done.”

Taking the forgotten cigarette from his lips, Mickey angles the burning end away from his face as he rubs at the deep line between his eyebrows.

”Kid,” he says, trying to sound calm, ”give the phone to Sonya.”

There are some muffled noises over the line, and then Mickey can hear his son’s distant voice. ”He wants to talk to you.”

”Hey Mickey,” Sonya comes on, breezy as anything. ”Is it supposed to be in the cutlery drawer? Been rifling through that thing for a good minute already.”

”Are you fucking kidding me?”

”What? It’s not such a weird guess, is it? I’d say it’s cutlery adjacent at least.”

”I’ve been outta the fucking house for less than forty minutes!” Mickey says, calmly. He is absolutely not screeching loud enough to have people on the street give him concerned looks. ”And you call me about some fucking–, I don’t have anything like that! Who has a thing specifically for poking cakes?!”

”Oh please,” Sonya scoffs. ”Plenty people do, you being one of them!”

He wants to point out that this is categorically not what he meant when he said ’call me if there’s an emergency’, but he’s got a feeling that this is only going to get him into an argument about the definition of ’emergency’ that he’s not going to win, and besides, he’s got bigger fish to fry right now.

”I absolutely do fucking not!” he splutters, glaring at a couple throwing him side-eye as they rush past him. ”Are you outta your mind?”

”I know you have one, because I gave it to you,” Sonya says, clanking sounds in the background from where she’s still presumably rifling through Mickey’s shit. ”Remember? When you moved in? I got it in Sweden when I was visiting for my cousin’s wedding. It was hand crafted, Mickey, you better not have thrown it out!”

”That thing?” Mickey balks, smoothly electing to not point out that they both know Sonya came home from her trip with like ten of those in her luggage and then spent the next two years giving them to all her friends and family whenever she’d forgot about getting gifts for an occasion. ”I stuck it in Merida.”

The silence on the other end of the line is palpable, and it takes a second for Mickey to hear what he just said.

”Who is Merida, and do I want to know why you stuck my hand-carved Swedish cake poker in her?”

Mickey sighs, and decides that he doesn’t have to answer that. He can try, at least. ”Tell Yev it’s in Merida.”

”I most certainly will not tell your sweet summer child that you’ve stuck the cake poker in–,” her increasingly high pitched voice abruptly falls to a hiss, ”–Merida, who is Merida?”

Luckily, Mickey can hear his son in the background, saving him from having to explain. ”It’s this thing?”

There’s another silence, Mickey takes the opportunity to smoke and accept the inevitable.

”Two questions,” Sonya says, her usual good humor back in her voice. ”One, you stuck my hand-carved Swedish souvenir in a potted plant? And two, you named the plant Merida?”

”It’s cartoon character–,” Mickey starts, before realizing what he’s saying and cutting himself off, ”I didn’t name it, obviously.”

”But you still call it by its name.”

”Whatever,” Mickey blows out a puff of smoke and can’t help smiling. Sometimes he just has to stop and take stock of how fucking ridiculous his life has turned out. And how much he fucking likes it, despite himself. ”Congratulations, you found it. Any other emergency you needed me for, or can I get back to my–”

He swallows, catching himself mid-sentence, suddenly unsure of how he intended to end it.

”–thing.”

”You’re there already?” Sonya asks, sounding genuinely remorseful now. ”Sorry, you left so late I thought for sure you’d missed the train and would still be en route, or I wouldn’t have told Yev to call. How’s the date going?”

Mickey swallows again, throat dry. He starts walking down the street in the direction of the bar.

”It’s fine, still on the way,” he says, ”and it’s not a date.”

”Like heck it isn’t,” Sonya tuts, ”you’re out on a Yev weekend for the first time since I’ve known you, and I saw that shirt you’re wearing.”

He runs a hand self-consciously along his belt, his button-down still tucked in and in place. He refuses to worry about it.

”You looked good, Mickey, I meant to tell you,” Sonya continues, and she doesn’t even sound like she’s teasing anymore which Mickey knows even less how to handle. ”And you’re undeniably on a date.”

”Shut up,” Mickey mutters and smiles to himself when Sonya laughs. Feeling a little more himself, he chucks his cigarette to the curb and stops to look across the road at his destination. ”Maybe.”

He hadn’t really considered the possibility, before Martin asked him. But the sex was always good, they got along really well, and when Martin looked up at him from his bed as Mickey was pulling on his jeans, his hair rumpled and lips still shiny, and asked if he wanted to go to some kind of hipster showcase gig together, Mickey had barely even hesitated.

”About time, too,” Sonya says. ”Was starting to think the guy wasn’t all there, taking his sweet time. Maybe he was waiting for you to ask.”

”Ey,” Mickey shakes his head, ”it’s only been a couple of months.”

”Try six! That’s half of a whole year.”

”Try minding your own fucking business,” Mickey says and frowns. Maybe it has been that long since the first time they hooked up, but it’s not like they’ve been fucking on the regular the whole time since then.

”Just happy for you, Mickey,” Sonya says, like it’s an easy thing for her to say. ”You like him, right?”

He doesn’t say yes, but he doesn’t outright deny it either, which probably tells Sonya everything she needs to know.

”Gotta go,” he says instead, ”and don’t call me again unless it’s an actual fucking emergency. See you tomorrow.”

Not waiting to see if she’s got something to say to that, he hangs up and shoves the phone back into his pocket. Staring at the unassuming building across the street, he allows himself a moment to take it all in. He’s just casing the joint before he enters, it’s normal fucking behavior. He isn’t stalling.

It doesn’t look too busy from the outside, there’s no line, and no bouncer or guard by the propped open double doors. The walls of the building are littered with layers of posters, on both sides of the doors and across the covered windows. Not much can be seen through the doors from his vantage point, but he assumes that it’s a front room leading to whatever’s going on inside the building.

There’s a guy standing off to the side of the doors, smoking. He’s got a lanyard shoved down his back pocket, ID badge dangling in clear sight. Most likely someone working at the bar, out on a break. His shoulders are hunched and he’s got a phone clutched to his ear, head bent and lips pressed together in a thin line. He nods at whatever is being said to him over the phone. Mickey looks up at the worn sign above the door.

”Fuck it,” Mickey mutters and, pushing aside the last of his niggling doubt, makes his way across the street and through the doors. It’s dark enough inside that his eyes need a second to adjust, before he quickly orients himself and heads toward the noise and lights leaking out from behind a set of swing doors beyond the coat check.

”Excuse me!” someone pipes up behind him, and he turns back to raise his eyebrows at the girl standing behind a counter by the entrance. ”We’ve got a showcase tonight, you need to buy a ticket.”

She makes an apologetic face as Mickey gets closer and pulls out his wallet.

”25,” she says when he gives her a questioning look.

”Christ,” he mutters, but forks over the money. ”This better be good.”

”We’ve got a really exciting lineup tonight, all local acts,” she says, obviously relieved now that he’s payed and she can tuck away his hard earned cash in her little lock box. ”I’m hoping I can take a break soon so I can sneak a peak of the headliner.”

She winks at him as she hands over a ticket, and he has zero fucking clue what he’s supposed to do with any of that.

”Okay?” he says and accepts the ticket. ”What’s this for? I’m already here.”

”In case you want to go in and out,” she says, and then tacks on when she seems to remember something she’s supposed to say; ”there’s no smoking in the venue.”

Mickey shrugs and pockets the ticket, biting back the urge to tell her that there’s no fucking smoking anywhere these days, thank you very much. The girl is still smiling at him when he turns his back on her and heads for the bar.

”Have fun!”

Finally inside, the place seems to be a collection of smaller rooms with some walls knocked down to make a larger, oddly shaped space. The bar is crowded, three bartenders moving around each other and pouring drinks in the narrow space behind it, and all the tables tucked away in the dark half-room next to it seem occupied. In the main room, Mickey finds the small, raised stage with a bigger crowd gathered in front of it. There’s a guy on stage, talking about something and looking like he’s about to cry while getting thoroughly ignored by a majority of his audience.

Mickey included, when he spots Martin a bit to the left of the stage. He’s talking to a couple of people he must have met in the crowd, smiling in that carefree way of his, eyes squeezed together and head tossed back when he laughs. He seems to do that a lot, laugh and talk and make friends wherever he goes. Open about himself in casual throw-away lines as he lets Mickey into his apartment, takes his clothes off, catching his breath, seeing Mickey off again. It’s nice seeing him out here, in the real world.

Maybe this could work. Mickey really should have tried harder to be on time, leaving your date to make new friends while he waits for you to show up seems like a bad move, now that he thinks about it.

Shit. Here goes nothing.

”Hey!” Martin exclaims, face lighting up with a wide smile when Mickey walks into his line of sight. He doesn’t sound upset, really doesn’t look it either when he pulls Mickey in for a quick kiss. It’s over before Mickey’s had the chance to do much else than blink in surprise.

”I’m late,” he acknowledges and hopes Martin will take the attempt at an apology for what it is.

”It’s fine,” Martin gins at him, tilting his head in the direction of the stage, ”you haven’t missed anything good.”

”– have you ever noticed that?” the guy on stage mutters into the microphone, ”I mean–, uh, I’ve noticed, that–, sometimes–”

Tuning the guy out again, Mickey looks past his date at the two people still standing on his other side, regarding them curiously.

”We got a problem?” he asks them, raising his eyebrows further when the woman just smiles at him.

”Oh,” Martin says, angling himself so the four of them make a little semi-circle in the crowd. ”My friends, Nora, Ethan, this is Mickey.”

Mickey stares at the side of Martin’s face for a moment, before he notices Ethan’s outstretched hand. He feels confused enough to grab it in a quick handshake. The woman, Nora, just keeps smiling.

”Nice to meet you, Mickey,” she says, clearly hiding something. People generally aren’t this smiley without an agenda, in Mickey’s experience.

”Sure,” Mickey says, glancing at Martin for some clue as to what he’s supposed to do now.

”You wanna go get yourself a drink?” Martin asks, pointing in the direction of the bar. ”This comedy train wreck should be over soon, hopefully.”

”Sure,” Mickey says again, wrong-footed by the whole odd situation and frustrated with himself for not being able to shake the feeling that he’s made a huge mistake.

”Go with him!” Nora says, making Martin take a half-step closer to Mickey by shoving lightly at his shoulder. ”We’ll save the spot.”

She gives Martin a pointed look and some kind of silent communication seems to happen between them, ending with her looking victorious and Martin dropping his head back with an exaggerated sigh. Then he turns to Mickey and playfully gestures for him to lead the way.

”Sorry about her,” he says once they’ve reached the bar, leaning in closer to speak directly into Mickey’s ear. The warmth of his breath makes the hairs on his neck stand on end. ”I keep telling her to back off, but she’s got it in her head that we’re doing something we’re not.”

Mickey swallows and turns his head to look at Martin when he leans back.

”And what are we doing?” he asks, and he doesn’t realize how it sounds until he sees Martin’s gobsmacked expression.

He lets out a startled laugh. ”Are we really gonna talk about this now? Here?”

And technically, Mickey agrees with him. He really doesn’t want to have the ’what are we’ conversation, and he definitely doesn’t want to have it now, here. But he’s already said it, and now he needs to know.

”Maybe,” he says and frowns when Martin just stares at him for a moment.

”I don’t know?” Martin eventually says. ”We have fun, right? I didn’t think you wanted it to be more than that?”

Mickey can barely hear his own thoughts over the noise from the bar, but he can practically feel his heartbeat in his throat. ”Do you?”

Martin makes a pained face, like it’s an involuntary reaction to the mere idea, before he shrugs helplessly and gives Mickey an uncertain smile.

”We don’t really have anything in common, Mickey,” he says. ”I don’t know, I just don’t see it going anywhere.”

”Thank you for participating,” the guy on stage says, his voice louder and verging on hysterical. It gives Mickey a reason to look away from Martin’s face for a second, hating the sympathetic twist to his lips. He feels like a fool.

”You suck!” someone yells in the audience.

”Yeah? Right back at you buddy!”

”Get off the stage!”

”Sure,” Mickey says, and nods. ”No, sure. You’re right.”

”Sorry?” Martin says and grins when Mickey rolls his eyes. ”And we can still have fun, right? Hey, I’ll buy you a drink! What do you want?”

”Anything, a beer,” Mickey tries to focus on Martin, on the list of prices pinned to the wall behind the bar, but there is suddenly too much noise, too many people, too much… stuff. ”I just gotta–”

He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say, so he stops. He doesn’t know what he wants, but getting out of this room would be a good start.

Martin looks confused, and then tuts reproachfully when Mickey pulls out his pack of smokes and gestures in the direction of the doors. He hates it when Mickey smokes, always makes him brush his teeth before they do anything. Guess that’s another thing they don’t have in common. Mickey hadn’t given it much thought.

He leaves Martin by the bar to fend for the bartender’s attention on his own and goes back outside, ignoring the surprised look on the girl by the door when he strides past her. Once outside, he’d hoped the fresh air and relative silence would knock him back on track, but it doesn’t. Everything is exactly the same, only now he can add ’running away like a pussy’ to the list of tonight’s embarrassments. He hates this, this isn’t him.

He should go back inside, show Martin and his friends that he doesn’t give a shit. Have a couple of beers, get through the night, make that asshole suck his dick until he can’t feel anything but a warm mouth and his own pleasure. But he’s not repaying any favors, not tonight, let that shithead take care of himself, since he can’t see it going anywhere. Fuck that. It’s fine.

”I know–, no, I know…”

Wrapped up in his own bullshit, Mickey hadn’t noticed he wasn’t alone. The same man from before is still on the phone, and he looks if possible even more miserable than he did when Mickey first arrived.

”That isn’t–, no, I know you didn’t… listen–”

Mickey ignores him, taking out a cigarette putting it to his lips. Might as well, he’s already out here. He lights it up. He, lights it up… come the fuck on, he lights it up. His lighter is out. Fucking great.

”Ey,” he says and turns to the guy on the phone, ”you got a light?”

The guy stares at him, and Mickey absently thinks he looks even worse up close. Like, disturbingly hot and built enough to properly toss a guy around if he wanted, but absolutely worn down by whatever it is he’s doing with whoever’s on the phone with him. Whatever, not Mickey’s problem. He shakes his empty lighter when the guy doesn’t immediately react.

”Oh,” the guy blinks, his eyes are red. He digs out a lighter from somewhere and hands it over. ”Here.”

”Thanks,” Mickey steps close enough so he can reach out and take it, and consequently hear the distant sound of a man’s voice on the other end of the line. He can’t make out any words, but the tone is unmistakable. The guy frowns and turns away slightly.

”Jesus, Jace, what the fuck?” he says, voice low and sharp. ”Are you serious right now? I’m not–, you know what?”

Mickey lights up and takes a couple of steps away to give the guy some privacy, but might still watch him out of the corner of his eye and hear pretty much everything he says. Call him a nosy bitch, but he really needs the distraction right now.

”I can’t do this right now,” the guy sighs, rubbing a hand over his eyes. ”We’re on in like ten minutes and I can’t–, I can’t do this with you right now. I asked you for time.”

He listens, and whatever it is that’s being said to him seems to hit a nerve. The general air around him of annoyed resolve slowly shifts into something more resigned.

”Yeah, I know… I’m sorry,” he says, and Mickey doesn’t know him or his situation, but he knows this can’t be right. ”Tomorrow, we’ll talk. I promise. Yeah, thanks… I will. Love you, too.”

Mickey shouldn’t be listening to this, he should finish his cigarette and go back inside. Find Martin and enjoy the night, have some fucking fun. Maybe he should, but he doesn’t want to.

He wants to go home, put on some fucking comfortable clothes and watch a movie with his kid.

”Heads up,” he says and waits until the phone guy looks up before he lobs the lighter back at him. He fumbles, but catches it. ”Fuck him, you deserve better.”

The guy stares at him, and rightly so. Mickey doesn’t know why he said that, he doesn’t know anything about it. But the guy looks… he looks a bit like Mickey’s feeling, deep down and buried many times over.

He looks lost.

”You deserve better,” Mickey repeats, because he already said it and he’s nothing if not all in. The guy opens his mouth on a shaky exhale, but he doesn’t say anything. Probably thinking of ways to get away from the freak accosting him on the street with unsolicited affirmation bullshit. Which, fair enough. Guess that’s Mickey’s cue to fuck off. If the guy would just stop staring at him like that.

A hand-holding couple suddenly walks right through their intense moment, heading for the doors. Mickey comes back to himself and, thinking quick, he takes out his ticket and waves it at the couple to get their attention.

”No thanks,” the man said, probably thinking he’s trying to sell it.

”Just fucking take it,” Mickey grumbles, shoving the ticket at them.

”Uh, thanks?”

Mickey waves a dismissive hand at them, already on his way.

”Thank you!” someone shouts after him.

He can’t wait to get home. Kick off his shoes, wash out the gel in his hair. Untuck his fucking shirt. Investigate whatever that cake poking business was about, hopefully cake. Watch his kid watch a movie, see his little face light up and mouth along with the words. Absolutely ignore Sonya’s inevitable attempts to get him to ’talk about it’.

His life is fucking fine the way it is, he doesn’t know why he got it in his head to try and make it something it isn’t.

#hey friends #I've had some feelings this week #and will try to get as many of these prompts out #as a double thank you #to you and the show #it's not much #but I hope it's something #also i got a bit carried away with this one #loved the prompt #thank you!#Anonymous

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