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krowfics · 3 years

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Logan’s Problem

Fandom: Sander Sides

Ship: romantic logince, platonic analogical

Plot: Logan was in love, this is a problem. He’s not going to tell Roman, of course.

Words: 2,586

Notes: Highschool AU, Virgil is into minorly illegal things (graffiti), there's a slightly nsfw joke(?), discussions of diet and food, misunderstandings (it’s pretty brief), kissing

~~~

Logan had a problem.

Frankly, he had lots of problems everyday but none were actually ‘real’ problems per say. He had plenty of math problems that equations and formulas could fix. He had problems with the classmates he tutored as their problems became his own. He had a problem when one of said classmates needed to cheat due to being unable to pass otherwise, not for lack of effort on Logan's behalf or their own of course, and Logan had almost gotten caught sneaking a picture of the answer key from the teacher's paperwork.

He had problems, he'd had some bigger problems in the past, but none can compare to this.

Logan was in love.

He didn't come upon this purely on his own, he did need to credit his local emo for planting the idea in his head.

It was a brisk night, but nothing too chilly, still that hadn't stopped Virgil from wearing his regular hoodie, it only encouraged him considering the fact that he usually wore it even on the hottest of days. Logan watched him as the delinquent sprayed the school's brick wall with fresh paint.

"He's infuriating." Logan said.

"Tell me about it." Virgil was clearly preoccupied with his piece.

Logan hastily ran his fingers through his hair, almost knocking off his glasses but not caring. "He just-" He sighed, "He's smart, and yet he's an idiot. He's an oxymoron! Schrodinger's cat but if the cat was some majestic beast who was both simultaneously perfect and flawed in the worst ways."

"Mm." Virgil hummed.

"I mean, for example," He began, "He works out everyday, he has a strict schedule of alternating which parts of the body to focus on which days to allow proper muscle growth and avoid unnecessary pains, something I do as well, but! He also spontaneously gets ice cream when out with the theater club! I've no problem with eating ice cream, obviously, but I'm not trying to be that toned."

"You got a thing for muscles, huh?" The emo cocked his head.

Logan felt his face flush with pure heat, "Ah- er- no. No." He stuttered out in response, "I mean, yes. But no. That has nothing to do with my point. My point! Is that he's somehow figured out how exactly to do spontaneous things like that without ruining the ability of others being able to see his abs by the next day- Abs are hard to retain is what I’m saying."

Virgil laughed, spinning on his heel to look at his friend, "Ignoring everything you just said about abs." He tried and failed to stifle another laugh, "We're talking about a boy who confused a frog for a turtle."

"I know!" Logan said far too dramatically but he didn't pay any mind, "And yet he aced the last biology quiz!"

Virgil blinked, "Did he cheat?"

"No." Logan waved his hand with a sigh, "I checked, besides, he cares too much about ‘honor’ to do that."

Virgil twisted his face at that, a clear grimace of disgust, "He's a goody two shoes. You have a crush on a goody two shoes. Gross."

"It's not-" Logan stopped himself, it only took one strong stare from Virgil for the truth to spill, "Holy shit, it is a crush."

Virgil stepped over to pat his back halfheartedly, "There, there."

"Okay but! Everyone in the school has a crush on him."

"I don't!" He defended.

"You did."

"I did." He conceded.

"Exactly." Logan said, "I'm not special, I'm just one of the many onlookers. Besides, it's to be expected that I am... attracted to him. He's physically fit and otherwise conventionally attractive, and very good at make up when he wears it for productions and he's kind to strangers and holds open the door when a teacher asks me to carry an absurd amount of paperwork and he usually offers help with that smile. You know that smile, right? That he gives and it's like it triggers a panic attack but good?"

"I think you're in love."

"I'm not!" He gasped.

"You are."

"I'm not."

Virgil stared at him with a deadpan look for a long moment before shoving his spray paint cans into his backpack, Logan glanced up and vaguely acknowledged that it was done and was an impressive work of art as usual. "Uh-huh." Virgil said, occupied with taking a picture of the graffiti with his phone.

"I'm not."

He was.

He was in love with Roman Prince.

This was a problem.

This problem became significantly more apparent when he ran into the boy in question at school, or rather, Roman ran into him. Literally.

He’d turned a corner, perhaps a bit too quickly and definitely too distracted by the sheer amount of papers he had in his hold. It was at moments like these that he almost regretted being such a teacher's pet, almost but not quite. it did have its perks along with its downsides, he wasn't exactly sure which one crashing into the other student was.

He had yelped and dropped nearly everything, losing his own balance along with the papers. Luckily he was caught and held up by a strong arm, unluckily, being caught made him drop the final pages he’d managed to hold on to. He and Roman stared at each other for a long moment, Logan was almost certain he hadn’t breathed and his face flushed an embarrassing color. Roman had righted him but hadn’t let go of his arm yet, “Are you alright, Specs?”

“Uh- erm, yes.” He readjusted his glasses, both as a way to try and distract himself from his blush and to actually fix his glasses as they were skewed from the collision, “My apologies, I wasn't looking at where I was going.”

“Oh no, that’s on me.” Roman said, only then letting go of the other’s arm and Logan tried to not be disappointed at the loss of contact with the other student, “Don’t tell anyone but I may or may not have been running in the halls.”

Logan looked around, “Well, there’s no hall monitors or teachers in view so I could hardly blame you for trying to travel quicker.”

“What’s this?” Roman laughed, “Is the teacher’s pet encouraging rule breaking? How scandalous.”

Logan rolled his eyes with a smirk, “I can assure you, my loyalty to the staff is a purely fabricated illusion.” And that probably something he shouldn't say. It definitely wasn’t something he’d say to just anyone, really only Virgil and a good few of the more trusted classmates he tutors knew that he wasn’t actually fond of the teachers, it’s easier to break rules when teachers think you couldn’t lie to save your life, but Roman wasn’t just anybody, was he? Logan turned, hoping what he’d just said hadn’t been a blunder, and stared at the floor with a sigh.

He crouched down to start restacking the pile, thank fuck they were all copies of the same page and thus didn’t need to be in order. Roman joined him on the floor, “So, to which teacher do we owe the pleasure?”

“Mrs. Libelle.”

“That fiend.”

Logan snorted at that, “If you’re in a hurry, I can handle this.” he offered.

“Are you kidding?” Roman gawked, “First of all, what kind of gentleman would I be if I did not help a nerd in need?”

Logan refused to acknowledge his returning blush, he instead squinted at Roman and opened his mouth to respond but was quickly cut off.

“Second of all,” He continued, “This is like a thousand pages to many for one person. And third of all, I have nowhere that I need to be in a rush, I’m just impatient.”

“I see,” Logan said, gathering a few more stray pages, “In that case, thank you.”

“No problem, Nerdy Wolverine, it was mostly my fault anyway.”

“Agree to disagree,” Logan replied instead of addressing that nickname.

Once all the papers were picked up and Logan had to watch Roman stretch up to release tension in his back, and no, don’t stare at his stomach Logan. An inch or so was revealed when his shirt was lifted with the stretch, it’s just a stomach, stop staring.

Logan cleared his throat and reached for Roman’s stack, “Thank you for the help, now I’ll be on my wa-”

“Ah ah ah!” Roman leaned away, taking the stack of papers with him, “Lead the way, Pocket Protector.”

Logan stared for a moment, but didn’t argue. He started walking and the other followed, “I’m not even wearing a shirt with a pocket to be protected let alone a pocket protector itself.”

Roman snorted, “Whatever, Nerd.”

Logan failed to suppress a smile, “You have used that one already in this conversation.” He pointed out, “I thought you were more creative than that.”

Roman gasped, “Oh, how you wound me!” he said overzealously.

The nerd in question just rolled his eyes.

“I was going to call you dork, but Remus told me what that word came from the other day and I can't stop thinking about it.” Roman faked a gag.

“Ah yes, plenty of curses have odd origins that have little to no resemblance to its in current use,” Logan said, turning a corner and glancing over to see Roman still following, “But I do understand being disturbed by whale penis.”

Roman gawked, “By the stars! Not you too- How do you know that?”

Logan stopped as he reached his designation and spun on his heel to look at the other boy, “I’m a nerd.”

“Yeah yeah,” Roman shifted his grip and stepped past Logan to open the door that was already slightly ajar.

“Oh you don’t…” Logan started but trailed off at Roman’s raised eyebrow, “Thanks.” He said instead of finishing, ducking his head as he walked into the room.

Logan spotted a clear enough spot at a desk and set his pile there. This was just the first stop however, Mrs. Libelle had instructed him to bring half the copies to Ms. Leading’s office and the others to Mr. Sanders, because Logan was just her loyal dog, apparently. He sighed and walked up to Roman, who was standing there, looking like he was waiting for instructions. Which was kind of cute.

“Thank you for helping me,” He found himself struggling with eye contact, “I can carry the rest on my own, so you can head out now.” He reached for the stack and Roman pulled it away from him for the second time today.

Logan looked up to see Roman staring at him quizzically, “Do you want me to leave?”

“What? No,” Logan blinked, “I don’t want you to- No, you can do whatever you’d like.”

“Woah, hey, it’s okay Nerd.” Roman said, causing Logan to notice the tension in his shoulders, “I did something wrong, right? I’m a dumbass, I say the wrong things all the time. I’d like to know what I did but you don’t have to tell me, it’s okay-”

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot.” Logan breathed.

Roman tilted his head, which was absolutely adorable, “Thank you?”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose, “You haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t- I don’t want you to leave.” Logan sighed, mostly at himself, and looked at the other man. He tried desperately not to let his face flush but it didn't really matter right now. He’d make Roman think he’d done something wrong, and that chivalrous bastard wasn’t even pushing for an explanation. Honestly, he was too nice, too perfect for his own good. “My apologies,” Logan started, “It had been brought to my attention that I... retain romantic feelings for you, and it has made me anxious, I suppose. So I attempted to have you leave quickly. I’d understand if you'd like to leave now if knowing this makes you at all uncomfortable.”

The other boy blinked at him, “Simplify, please, Nerd.” He said very quietly, as if he was already aware of what Logan said but wanted to make sure.

Logan cleared his throat and readjusted his glasses, which probably didn’t need the readjusting at all this time, “I have a crush on you.” he clarified quietly, “And I’m not confessing, really, just giving an explanation for my behavior. Thank you for the help. You may leave.”

“You like me?”

Logan nodded, “This can’t be much of a surprise.”

Roman shook his head, “Did you not just call me an idiot?”

Logan’s eyes widened, “I assure you, I meant no negative connotations-”

“Chillax, Nerd.” Roman waved a hand, unknowingly giving Logan a moment to decipher whatever ‘chillax’ means before, “I like you too.”

And that left Logan reeling. Because no. No? How? Roman was the high school’s pretty boy, their prince, their designated hot guy with abs. How does the hot guy with abs like him back? There must’ve been a miscommunication. Somehow.

“Come again?” Was all he managed.

But Roman smiled and Logan’s heart went from beating out of his chest to figuratively soaring, “I like you too. Or uh, I retain romantic feelings for you too.” He chuckled.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Well, this was unexpected, “What do we do now?” Logan said, more to himself than the other.

Roman shrugged, “What do you want to do?”

“I honestly never planned to get this far.”

Roman huffed out a laugh, stepping around to the desk so that he could set his pile down next to Logan’s, “Well,” He said, making his way back to the student, “I could kiss you.”

“I-” Logan felt like a metaphorical deer in the headlights, but in a good way? If that was even remotely logical, which it wasn’t, “I wouldn’t be opposed.” His voice came out a whisper.

To that, Roman reached up and gently cupped his cheeks. Roman’s eyes flicked down to Logan’s lips and Logan found his eyes doing much of the same.

The kiss was soft, absolutely nothing like he’d expected from the student before him, but not bad in the slightest. It was short, too short, Logan found, so he took to pulling Roman back in only a moment after the first ended.

Roman pulled back again, rubbing Logan’s cheek gently with his thumb as he did so. He smiled so warmly, Logan thought he’d melt.

“And…” Logan vaguely noted that he probably sounded a bit out of it, “What do we do now?” he smiled at the other.

“Hm.” Roman hummed, “Ice cream?”

“Ice cream sounds good.” Logan agreed. He had a date. A date with Roman Prince. “But, papers.”

“Papers?”

“Papers.” He pulled away begrudgingly. He grabbed half the papers and went for the door, stopping only for a moment, “I'll be right back.” He then slipped out the door and speed walked to the other teacher’s classroom. Mr. Sanders was there and had made small talk that Logan managed to survive. He was gone as quickly as he arrived, rushing back to Roman and finding him just stepping out of the door of the room he was left in.

Roman grinned when he saw Logan approach, he reached for Logan’s face again once he was in range. He pulled him in for another kiss, something Logan could hardly argue against, “Ice cream now?” Roman asked, face still impossibly close to the other’s.

Logan nodded slightly, “Yes.” finding his hand in Roman’s a moment later, being pulled down the hallway. Roman’s unabashedly happy smile was sure to match his own.

So, maybe this wasn’t a problem after all.

~~~

This is actually a fully fleshed out au that i will probably write more of, idk- no promises

my,, hyperfixation on health and exercise kinda slipped into this one? im sorry, i don’t know what happened, but Logan likes muscles i guess asjkdkls

also i do not know how american high schools work at all, i was homeschooled so im going off fanfics and anime (which doesnt help with the american thing-)

#thekrowiswriting #sander sides #logince #platonic analogical #highschool au #logan sanders #romans sanders #virgil sanders #idk about the pacing on this one :/#kissing #food mention #diet mention

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newcaptainofsquad9 · 4 years

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Not So Korean Drama~Park Sooyoung(Joy) x black!fem!reader

Pairing: Sooyoung/Joy x reader

Genre: Romance, Comedy(not really), College AU, Fluff

Summary: The it girl on campus, acting major and international student, Park Sooyoung is all you can think about. You aren’t the only one, every person has a huge crush on her too. You want to ask her out, yet in the back of your mind you know everything about it would be unconventional.

Warnings: Anxiety, Mentions of bi-phobia (nothing major), Mentions of Microaggressions

Word Count: 4,206

Author’s Note: Here’s some Red Velvet, I also decided to write more black readers because I want to write more for black women like me. Also I know this is very niche so I hope you guys enjoy it regardless if you identify with the main character or not. Hope you guys enjoy!

Sometimes I see this mediocre, yet funny life of mine as a television show. A world where I’m surrounded by so many generic people, well they aren’t really generic, just similar to one another. That’s usually how it goes at La Rouge University , or as most of the students of color call it, La PWI. It’s weird though, I don’t really fit in with the other black students either, nothing against them but I’m just more on the nerdy side. I know that doesn’t make me unique, but there aren’t a lot of nerdy black girls on campus. The only one I found was Brianna, who was close to Wendy and Yeri. I found my band of friends but Wendy can be a bit insensitive at times. That’s one of the reasons why I keep my budding crush on Sooyoung. Where can I begin about Park SooYoung? There’s so much about her that draws me towards her, well regardless of her sense of style, straight black hair and the ability to pull off any lipstick color.

“Um, earth to Y/N?” Brianna asks.

I blink up from my book, a page that I clearly checked out from. I totally forgot we were in the library of all places, whoops. Of course Brianna’s holding a smug grin while she taps Yeri.

“Look, Y/N’s lost in thinking about Sooyoung’s eyes,” she teases.

Yeri giggles as she takes Brianna’s hand tightly.

“I know right, I don’t know why you don’t just ask her out already,” Yeri says.

I cringe at how loud she said it as Wendy approaches our table with her usual blue sweatshirt, tan pants and bag slung across her shoulder. She must have gotten from her English class since she’s clutching her literature book for dear life.

“Who’s asking who out?” she asks as she pulls up a seat.

“Um, no one,” I say quickly.

Wendy throws a deadpan look my way.

“It’s gotta be about you Y/N,” Wendy notes. “You’re the single person at the table and if Bri and Yeri were cheating on each other I’m sure they wouldn’t discuss it in front of each other.”

Both Brianna and Yeri shrug as they link arms and kiss each others cheeks.

“You haven’t found someone else, have you babe?”Yeri whines.

Brianna nuzzles against her cheek.

“You know I haven’t jagi,” Brianna coos.

Yeri giggles at the pet name she taught Bri, earning a kiss on her lips. They’re cute, teeth rottenly so, but I always wonder how they got together. Of course they’re in the same major and have an obsession with Boba tea but what about their obvious racial differences, with Yeri being Korean and all. I’m curious but then again, it’s not my place to ask. It’s their relationship.

“So, are you gonna tell me who it is?” Wendy asks while she pokes me with the end of her pen.

“Nobody,” I say.“None of your concern.”

Wendy pouts as her pokes grow faster.

“Ah come on! You were fine with telling Yeri and Bri about it!” she groans.

“Yeah, but you’ll just kill the vibe,” I explain, “plus you know them so.”

Wendy gasps.

“Really? Ah! So it won’t be hard to guess!” she says.“Is it Minseok from the Starbucks?”

Yeri giggles.

“Uh, it isn’t a he, Wendy.”

Wendy blinks at Yeri’s statement as I send a Brianna a knowing glare. She nods and pats my hand.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were into women, Y/N,” Wendy says.

“Yeah, but I’m still into men too Wendy,” I say. “But yes, this crush is on a woman.”

“Oh ok,” Wendy says. “I didn’t know that was your thing but ok.”

I hold back my words, but Brianna doesn’t. Thank God.

“And what’s that supposed to mean Wendy?” she asks.

Yeri pinches the bridge of her nose as Wendy glances at each of us in confusion.

“What?” she asks.“Aw, did I overstep again?”

I nod sharply when Brianna scoffs.

“Took a giant step over the line,” I say. “I’m bi.”

Wendy’s eyes soften.

“I-I’m sorry Y/N,” she says. “I hadn’t realized and you never talked about it with us.”

“It’s fine,” I tell her with a pat of her hand.

“So,” Yeri says, breaking the tension.“When are you going to ask her out?”

Fortunately Wendy’s all smiles again, yet she goes to asking me again.

“So, who is she? Oh! is it-”

I don’t even register who Wendy’s talking about as my focus shifts towards the entrance of the library. The double doors slide open, slowly (maybe its my hyperactive mind) and steps in the woman herself. Park Sooyoung. Of course she’d step in now of all times with her stylish tan trench coat, white turtle neck and dark skinny jeans. Just like in the TV shows she brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. Ok it is my hyperactive imagination, she’s even walking this way. Shit, no that’s actually happening. Wendy pokes me again.

“Y/N? Oh!” she gasps, realizing.

Sooyoung steps up to our table with a tiny smile and a wave.

“Hi Wendy, Yeri,” she greets.

Her attention shifts over to Brianna and I. Me. Park Sooyoung is looking at me.

“Oh! This is Y/N,” Yeri says as she squeezes Brianna’s hand. “And this is my girlfriend, Brianna.”

Sooyoung grins, flashing a few of her teeth as she bows slightly, reaching for Brianna’s hand, shaking it then holding it out to me. I. My skin flares as my words begin to disperse.

“Nice to meet you,” Sooyoung says. “Brianna. Y/N.”

Her attention is back on me, her eyebrow raised as she notices that I haven’t taken her hand yet. I grip it quickly and shake it just as swift.

“N-Nice to, meetyoutoo!” I manage to blurt out.

Sooyoung turns back to Wendy.

“I just wanted to ask if Professor Philip put the PowerPoint online,” she says. “I had to miss lecture today because of rehearsals.”

Wendy waves her off.

“You’re in the clear,” Wendy reassures. “He’s going over it again next class.”

Sooyoung releases a breath of relief, another smile engulfing her striking features yet again.

“Thank you Wendy,” she says.

It’s as if the entire library started to notice Sooyoung, guys start to pop up that I don’t even know. I know one of them, Jackson Wang, a friend of mine, we aren’t close, yet I didn’t know he knew Sooyoung.

“Yo Y/N!” he greets. “Bri, Yeri, Wendy!”

He then turns back to Sooyoung.

“We should get going,” he says. “JB and Bam Bam are waiting.”

“Ah, you’re right!” Sooyoung exclaims. “It was nice meeting you both, see you guys around!”

And just like that Sooyoung’s gone and around the corner with Jackson flanking her. Are they a thing? Last time I checked Jackson was endlessly flirting with Namjoon, the library’s part time receptionist and full time genius. I’ve confided in Jackson about my sexuality before, but I’ve never talked to him about Sooyoung. Oh God, they must be dating.

“Y/N, Y/N you still there?” Yeri asks.

I turn my attention back to the table. Brianna holds a shit eating grin as always, Yeri tries to stifle a laugh while Wendy narrows her eyes at me.

“Sooyoung,” she says. “You have a crush on Park Sooyoung.”

“Not just a crush,” Brianna notes. “A school girl crush, I know you saw how nervous Y/N got. She could barely speak.”

I hunker down further in my seat as my face flares again.

“Shut up,” I groan.

Wendy giggles.

“It’s cute Y/N, but I’m not sure if Sooyoung’s-” she pauses prior to continuing. “You know.”

I get an uneasy tingle from Wendy’s words. She’s right, what if she isn’t into women. What if she doesn’t like black people? Another stab that would hurt more.

“What Wendy?” Yeri asks. “Gay or Bi? it’s ok, you can say it.”

Wendy frowns.

“Guys, I don’t mean to come off like that,” she groans. “I just don’t want her to get hurt. Sooyoung hasn’t been here in the states for a while, I’m not sure if she’s-accepting.”

“Well if she’s hanging out with Jackson, who’s big bi energy by the way,” Brianna explains. “She’s got to be somewhat accepting.”

Yeri’s eyes soften at me as she reaches for my hand.

“That doesn’t mean you should give up,” she says. “Just talk to her.”

I slip further down into my seat, it’s easier said than done. Sooyoung’s an international student which means she only hangs out with other international students. I only know two of them: Wendy, born in South Korea but studied in Canada prior to moving here and Jackson who moved here from China on a football scholarship. They’re friends of course, but even they blow me out of the water with their style and the looks they get from students. Sooyoung especially.

“I guess, ah look at that!” I say while getting out of my seat. “I got class in ten.”

Brianna grins.

“Your class doesn’t start until 3:30, it’s only 3:05.”

I nod with a quick smile.

“I know!” I say. “I just need to get away from this conversation. Talk to you guys later!”

I’m out and away from the table before they can utter a goodbye.

***

Class was dull as usual. Thankfully it ended before my eyes glazed over and I can grab some dinner before heading back to my dorm. The classroom empty's out quickly, I rush to the exit of the building, ready for that cool air to hit me.

“Ey! Y/N!” a booming voice calls.

I turn to see Jackson. He’s clad in his black and red Letterman jacket with the letters L and R embroidered on the front. His hair’s also gelled back to perfection, it looks awesome might I add.

“Hey Jackson,” I say. “What’s up?”

I slow my pace for him to catch up with me from down the hall. The cool air hits my face, I sigh, then turn to Jackson, who’s already behind me as I hold the door for him.

“Thanks,” he says as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “You done with classes for today, right?”

I nod sharply.

“Yep, you?”

Jackson chuckles.

“You know I don’’t have classes on Thursday,” he notes.

I roll my eyes. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have asked. That’s what I want to say, but I restrain. I find myself doing that a lot here at La Rouge University. Don’t want to come across as that kind of black girl. Sure, Jackson and I are cool, I just don’t want him to put a thought into his head. I’m sure he’s seen many stereotypes of black women, black people in general. I don’t want to put that risk out, especially when Brianna and I have to had many talks with Wendy about it.

“Hey,” Jackson says softly. “You good?”

I blink up at him as we stroll through the courtyard with the wind nipping at our skin.

“Yeah, uh, I’m fine.”

Jackson smirks and leans closer to throw an arm around my shoulder.

“So, Miss Y/LN,” he starts. “Tell me, how long has your little crush been a thing?”

I jolt at his words.

“Huh? C-crush? Nah, uh what do you mean a crush?”

Jackson chuckles and bats his eyes jokingly.

“Don’t play coy!” he exclaims. “You looked like you were going to pass out around Sooyoung.”

My skin burns at his words. I wasn’t that obvious, was I?

“I-I, um, Sooyoung, who? Never heard of her.”

“Sure Jan.”

“When the hell did you watch the Brady Bunch?” I ask.

Jackson shrugs.

“I watched it with Yeri last weekend, you should have came over. I heard its a major part of American slang and memes which are hilarious.”

I nod in agreement.

“Yeah, let’s discuss memes instead of Park Sooyoung oh-”

Jackson jabs his finger at me.

“You even know her last name, ha!” Jackson says. “You’re totally crushing right now.”

I sigh in defeat.

“Fine, yes I like her all right. It’s not a big deal anyway.”

Jackson frowns.

“It totally is,” he says. “Sooyoung and I are friends, along with classmates. I even know her schedule, for class and drama rehearsals.”

“Oh nice,” I say.

“I know that she’s free right now. Chilling at Reveluv Cafe, going over her lines, drinking some coffee or what not, looking stunning.”

I flush and cross my arms.

“Yeah, probably flocked by drooling people,” I say. “She’s too stunning for her own good.”

“Yes, but unlike those drooling losers you’re going to talk to her.”

“I’m sorry, what? Jackson, no way,” I say. “She’s an actress, didn’t she act in a couple of K dramas?”

Jackson nods.

“Four actually,” he clarifies. “The first three were cameos, but the latest one she played a huge supporting role, over shadowed the male and female leads.”

“That doesn’t make my situation any better,” I deadpan. “she’s got status in her home country, gorgeous features and a promising career ahead of her. What the hell do I have?”

Jackson’s arm tightens around me.

“You’re sweet, pretty and nice to talk to,” he says. “You also have a career ahead of you crazy, that’s why you’re studying remember?”

“You’re a friend,” I groan. “You’re inclined to say that.”

“Yeah, but even before we became friends, I always found you hot,” he admits.

I elbow him playfully in the ribs.

“Jackson Wang! Stop playing!”

Jackson shakes his head.

“I’m dead serious, black women are sexy. And you definitely aren’t the exception.”

“Stop!” I laugh and playfully push him away.

“What?” he chuckles. “look I know you find Asian guys attractive too! And I know good and well you like Asian women.”

He narrows his eyes and wiggles his eyebrows.

My face heats up as we enter the library for the second time today.

“Is there anything I can do to make you stop?” I joke.

Jackson nods.

“Talk to Sooyoung,” he suggests. “Hey, I can help! Start the conversation!”

I just stare at him as he puts his hands together.

“Please?”

“Fine.”

***

Reveluv cafe is bright, a little too colorful for my taste, but still homey and comforting. The walls are covered in various fruits, some hand drawn and neon to bring, I guess variety. It’s cute. Even the floor is bright red, leading up to the counter that’s decorated with other tropical themes, the employees even wear sashes and white uniforms with fruit based buttons.

Jackson leads me to the lounging area of the cafe which has an area of circular tables and higher tables near the windows. Sitting at one in the corner at the far back is Sooyoung, her straight hair spills down her cream colored turtle neck. Her head’s down in a book, she’s transfixed on the page.

“Jackson, maybe we shouldn’t-”

“Sooyoung, hey!”

Damnit Jackson.

Sooyoung’s head jerks up as a soft smile graces her lips.

“Jackson, hi!”

I watch from behind Jackson. He walks up to Sooyoung, she stands and engulfs him in a hug.

“How are lines going?”

Sooyoung giggles.

“Great so far! What brings you and-” she pauses to look at me. “Hi, Y/N, right?”

I nod sharply. God, she remembered my name.

“Yeah, hi Sooyoung.”

Jackson smirks with a knowing glare at me. Hasn’t this man clowned me enough?

“Y/N here was just nervous to speak to you.”

My hands start to tremble as Sooyoung looks to me with confusion.

“Why?” she asks. “You’re friends with Wendy and Yeri, so by default I think you’re cool.”

Wow. Park Sooyoung just called me cool.

“Oh, she is,” Jackson declares. His mouth opens to say more, yet a slight buzz in his pocket stops him.

“What is it?”

Jackson takes a look at his phone quickly before grinning back up at me, then Sooyoung.

“Sorry ladies, I kind of have a study date with Mr. IQ 148!”

Sooyoung’s brows furrow.

“Um, who?”

“Namjoon,” I say. “Jackson! Ah!”

I take his arm and whisper.

“You can’t leave yet,” I groan.

Jackson pats my arm.

“You got this babe, I promise to give you all the details with Namjoon if you give me the details you get with Sooyoung.”

God, this man is incorrigible.

“If I fuck this up you owe me so many smoothies.”

Jackson chuckles.

“You got to try first sweetie, she’s cool, you’ll see.”

Jackson says a quick goodbye to the both of us.

I turn back to Sooyoung who’s looking dead at me with her hands behind her back.

“Would you like to sit?” she asks with another bright smile.

“Yeah, uh sure.”

She gestures to the empty seat across from her, I slide into it quickly, Sooyoung follows.

“So, are you an English major like Wendy?”

I shake my head.

“No, actually I’m a creative writing major.”

Sooyoung’s face lit up as she took a swig of her coffee.

“Really? So, you write your own books and stories?”

I nod, and try to hide a smile behind my hand. Her attention is fully on me.

“Yeah, but mostly poems though,” I say, pausing once I meet Sooyoung’s eyes. I don’t finish, God I can hardly face her. If Jackson can see it than its got to be obvious to her.

“Y/N?” she asks. “Are you ok?”

“Y-Yeah, I-I I just-”

Sooyoung’s eyes soften as she takes my hand, which is already starting to get clammy and sweaty.

“It’s ok, breathe,” she coaxes. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

I giggle, the action eases some of the anxiety. My heart rate goes down a bit, just a bit because Sooyoung’s hands are still over mine.

“I-I guess not to judge me, or freak out even,” I say. “I know we’re different, ok. And we’re both women.”

Sooyoung giggles, teeth baring rather sweetly.

“You’re cute,” she coos. “Yes, you’re American and-”

“Black,” I blurt.

Sooyoung nods.

“Oh, I didn’t even notice,” Sooyoung jokes. She raises our interlocked hands together drawing my attention to my brown hand and her lighter, almost porcelain one. “Why? Is that an issue? Is that what’s making you so nervous?”

“Part of it, the truth is, I like you,” I admit.

Sooyoung’s eyes widen, forcing me to pull my hand away from her own. She draws back to as she tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear. My trembles don’t die down, but the flaring in my chest does. I nod as my eyes travel down to the table, I can’t look at Sooyoung right now. Of course I made a fool of myself.

“I uh, I can leave you alone now-”

“Wait, Y/N!”

She grabs my wrist before I can get up, it startles me.

Our eyes meet again, Sooyoung giggles, the confidence she oozes makes me glance down at the legs of her chair.

“Can I admit something too?”

I nod, she then sighs lowly.

“Can you look at me? Y/N?”

Before I can register her question warm fingers juts my chin up, forcing my attention on her face. She smiles and I swear her eyes lingers down at my lips for a moment prior to moving back up to my eyes.

“I’m flattered,” she whispers. “You’re really pretty, I’d love to go out. Maybe next week, if that’s ok?”

“I, um, yeah,” I mutter. “I-I’m looking forward to it.”

***

Weeks come and go. The teasing from Jackson, Brianna, Yeri, even Wendy (surprisingly) continues as the dates with Sooyoung get frequent. We’ve start to hold hands even, which is a huge step for me (Sooyoung initiated it first of course). Dating Sooyoung has been surprising to say the least, she’s even more flirty now that we know more about each other, which makes me more anxious to be around her now. It’s fun to be around her, she’s interested in aspects of American culture that she doesn’t know much about. One in particular being memes, thanks to Jackson himself and even slang. It rubs me the wrong way to hear her say, ‘sup sweetie’ at times but she’s still learning. Right? I’m just thinking too much into it. I’m sure she won’t start talking black and Jackson learned not to from me, along with a quick, yet needed scolding from Brianna.

I arrive at Sooyoung’s apartment a sweaty mess. This is the first time I’ve been to her apartment and I already feel like I’m gonna mess this up. She talked about living with someone, but what I didn’t expect was a stunning woman with straight, blonde hair to answer the door. I don’t remember seeing her around campus, I’m sure the people would flock to her as much as they flock to Sooyoung too.

“Hi, uh,” I pause at how intimating she looks. “I-I’m uh, Sooyoung invited me.”

The woman chuckles as she gives me a quick once over.

“You must be Y/N,” she notes. “Come in.”

She steps aside for me which I do.

The house looks like a loft inside: a low, white couch sits in the middle of the living room, a flat screen hugs the far wall, the carpet is clear and fluffy covering most of the floor, leading to the staircase.

“Joohyun!” Sooyoung calls while rushing down the stairs. “Y-Y/N, hi.”

I give her a tiny wave as Joohyun chuckles.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your date,” Joohyun says with a quick wink at me and a narrow eyed glare at Sooyoung.

“How long are gonna be out unnie?” Sooyoung asks.

Joohyun giggles and raises an eyebrow.

“Why?” she asks. “You both aren’t going to have too much fun, are you?”

My eyes scan down to the carpet to memorize how spotless it is.

“Joohyun! Y-You’re so embarrassing!” Sooyoung exclaims. I see her black sock covered feet next to mine.

“All jokes Sooyoung,” Joohyun explains. “I’ll be staying at Seulgi’s tonight. It was a pleasure meeting you Y/N.”

“Same here,” I say.

When I meet Joohyun’s eyes her intimating demeanor disperses. An easy, toothy smile now replaces it. Once she waves and is out the door, Sooyoung’s hands are on my face.

“I’m so sorry about her,” she groans. “She didn’t frighten you too much, did she?”

“Not really,” I admit. “Does she always do this to people she doesn’t know?”

Sooyoung giggles.

“Yeah, she’s just protective is all,” she explains. “Now, would you like to watch the show here in the living room or.”

She steps up to rest her hands on my sides.

“My room could work, I have plenty of stuffed animals,” she suggests. “We could cuddle.”

She smiles, my heart flutters as she intertwines our hands together. I lose my breathe as she steps closer, our faces suddenly an inch apart. She’s using a bright, red lipstick, perfect at this distance. Kissabl-

“Can I kiss you?” she asks.

I nod, she tilts her head to the right before our lips meet. Her lips are smooth, with a cherry taste. I didn’t even know lipstick could taste this good. She smiles against my lips, her hands wind themselves around my waist in order to deepen the kiss. Sooyoung’s fevered kisses keep my lips moving with her, it continues until I run out of breath, forcing me to pull away.

“How was that?” she asks prior to biting her lip.

“It was I-”

It takes me a minute to gather my words. I never kissed a woman before and that was-

“Amazing,” I manage to say.

Sooyoung chuckles lowly, takes my hand and leads me to the couch.

“Yeah, would it be dope if we continue?”

I cringe at the word dope, she notices right away.

“What is it? I’m rushing things aren’t I?” she asks.

I shake my head, but think about it for a moment. I want to have this conversation about our different cultures. Of course it’s something we’re got to talk about but why do I feel as if its so awkward? It’s just a few words, right? I just don’t want to come across as that kind of person. That kind of black person especially.

“Y/N,” Sooyoung says. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, it’s just uh,” I pause to finally form coherent words. “Slang, it’s um kind of weird when you say it-not saying that it’s bad or anything its just.”

I pause again to sit next to Sooyoung, who listens intently.

“It’s your thing, right?” she asks. “As an American?”

“As an African American, as a black person,” I say. “I just don’t want you to use certain terms without knowing where they come from. I’m curious about Korean too, but I want to go by it respectfully. I want to respect you.”

Sooyoung’s eyes lighten up, her fingers play with my right hand as a smile spreads across her face.

“I want to respect you too jagi, ah! To be honest I got most of those words from Jackson anyway.”

I roll my eyes.

“I’m not even surprised.”

“So, can we still watch the drama?” she asks with a playful frown.

“Of course!”

Sooyoung lets out a delighted giggle, presses a quick kiss to my cheek and moves to turn the flat-screen on. Maybe dating Park Sooyoung wasn’t going to be so difficult after all.

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bang-to-the-tan · 4 years

Text

Moth to Flame

Chapter 13

Reader x OT7

► Vampire!AU

Smut/Porn With Some Plot

Warnings: (hoo boy) Oral Sex, Blowjobs, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, Sloppy Seconds, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Degradation,Somewhat Dubious Consent/Hypnosis, Vaginal Fingering, Anal Fingering, Handjob, Masturbation, Cumplay, Threesome (M/M/F), Foursome (M/M/M/F), Voyeurism, Slight Stockholm Syndrome?, Possessiveness, Vampires (Biting, Blood-Sucking, Reference to Death), Language

Words: 11.1K (jesus tittyfucking CHRIST)

↳ Summary: Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry…

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Yoongi’s sweatpants fit well enough to get by in, matched with another of Namjoon’s hoodies—this time in a tan color. (How many hoodies does one man need? You’re reminded again of Jin’s seemingly endless supply of clothing, though you don’t dare mention the similarity) The flip flops he’s lent you are a little on the large side, but you doubt it really matters. You’re just glad to be wearing shoes again. As you wait by the door for Namjoon to get his keys and slide his arms through his jacket, tugging on a bucket hat and hanging a pair of sunglasses onto his shirt, you’re still trying to process your emotions. Outside. With other people. Other humans, even. Are you going to run? Are you going to try to escape? It feels like that’s what you should be planning.

“Oh.” Namjoon catches your attention as you muse, pulling dark, smokey fabric your way and wrapping it around your neck. You pluck distractedly at one of the fringes hanging off it, meeting his gaze after a second.

“Just in case,” he says, shifting the scarf around your shoulders more securely. “For the marks.”

“They look bad?”

He tilts your head to the side, inspecting you with a quirk of his lips. “Mm. No. Not really. Kinda healed. But just in case. Don’t want any awkward questions.”

Awkward questions. Like, ‘blink twice if you’re being held hostage’? That kind of awkward? You allow him to tuck the edges back in, hiding the evidence of where you’ve been. What you’ve been doing. What’s been done to you. You grimace. Your head still hurts, and the world has begun spinning a little when you turn your neck too quickly.

You blink, and you’re in the passenger’s seat of the car, staring out the window while Namjoon talks. Vaguely, you’re aware of what he’s saying. That he thinks it’s awfully important. You beg to differ.

“—find you on any, like, missing persons databases so I think we’re in the clear, but just to be safe, y’know. This is…it’s a risk. You understand?”

You hum, working your jaw. You wish he’d gotten you something a little stronger for the headache. It’s better than it was, but not gone. Swear it gets worse when he talks, and he’s talking a lot.

“I need you to behave yourself. Don’t make a scene. If you act out, then we can’t do this anymore.”

You roll your eyes, even knowing that it’s going to twinge at your migraine.

“I’m not gonna run around screaming about being kidnapped, Joon,” you grumble.

“I know. I know, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. I promised you we’d let you go when we’ve…sorted something else out.”

“That’s a different phrasing than you used last time.”

“I’m trying. Okay? Just—I’m not trying to keep you prisoner.”

“Hence the handcuffs.”

You flick a glance over at him just in time to catch the tick of his jaw as he narrows his eyes at the road ahead.

“That is…not the same thing.”

“If it’s sexy, then kidnapping is okay.”

The exasperated snort of air that he answers with is partly humored and partly frustrated.

“You are, annoying sometimes, you know that?”

“I get to be, I think.” You turn back to the window. “Considering.”

“…yeah. Alright. Considering.”

The store has too many fucking people in it, is the thought that occurs to you. At first, pulling into the parking lot, you’re excited to see them. Human beings, running amok, running free. You feel like an animal at a zoo released into the wild. Ordinary people, milling about, going about their ordinary lives. It’s invigorating.

That feeling quickly fades when you actually get into the building. The smells, too-sharp chemicals and body odor hits you immediately; cheaply, quickly cooked food and even cheaper body spray. The noises. Chattering, obnoxious laughing heard from the other side of the store, children shrieking and shouting. A cart down the way has a squeaky wheel and you can track it through the aisles. You ruminate on thoughts of violence perpetrated by the item in question itself, of picking it up and throwing it out the finger-smudged windows with the screeching baby still inside it.

Namjoon’s hand on yours squeezes reassuringly. It’s unclear to you whether he can sense your discomfort but you don’t think you’ll mention it if it’s possible to avoid doing so. You can’t imagine how unbearably smug he’d be to learn that you’d rather be around him than them. Once you’re in the store, he lifts his sunglasses, but leaves the hat on.

“Not gonna burn to a crisp in the sunlight?” You ask after a moment of watching a child attempt to shove his entire hand up one nostril.

“Nah. Just a little sensitive on the eyes.”

“The super cool, far-seeing, all-knowing vampire eyes.”

“Those ones.”

“I should have brought a flashlight to the club, is what you’re telling me.”

He chuckles, shrugging. “Maybe so.”

He leads you to the clothing section, still holding your hand, and there isn’t an atom in your body that is even vaguely alright with the idea of letting him out of your sight. There’s a feeling like you’d get swept up in this sea of people, lost in a world so entirely foreign to you. You know you used to belong here. This used to be yours.

But flicking numbly through shirts and pants, skirts, jackets, mumbling half-remembered guesses at measurements, listening to the cacophony around you, lost in the harsh overhead lights…you don’t belong here. You aren’t sure whether it’s more upsetting to think that you don’t now, or that once upon a time, you did. Once upon a time, you didn’t question it.

A gaggle of teenaged girls passes by. For a third time. They stare at Namjoon in turns, giggling and speeding up, skittering past, chattering to each other excitedly. Their idea of stealth leaves a lot to be desired.

“You have admirers.”

Namjoon cocks his head, lips pursing, as he pulls a t-shirt off the rack and holds it up to you appraisingly. “I’m ignoring them.”

“Not hungry?”

His eyes flit to yours. “Never teenagers.” He replies, low, firm. He sounds almost upset. “Never kids.”

You hear the click of a phone camera and a high-pitched giggle of embarrassment, the forcibly hushed whispers of ‘turn off the noise turn off the noise, oh my god!’.

“Not even annoying ones?”

“If you really want to discourage them, you could kiss me.” He says instead, lightly, but his eyes flick to yours and you can taste the heat behind them.

“That’ll do it, you think?” you echo sardonically.

He hums, nodding once in affirmation.

Before you can think too hard, you slide a hand over his on the shirt hanger, guiding it back towards the rack so that you can close the gap between you. Like the first time, he doesn’t move at first. Allows you to crane upwards, struggle to brush your lips together, before he finally acquiesces and takes the remaining space, laying a lingering kiss against your mouth. He’s warm, soft. His lips taste like him. Like how he smells. Like Namjoon. The two of you lock gazes as you part, and you willfully ignore the electricity shimmying down your body.

“I don’t like the color of that one,” you break the silence after a pause. He blinks slow, a grin crawling across his face.

“No?”

“No. But the one behind it is nice.”

“Anything for baby.”

You don’t allow him the warmth that curls inside of you at that.

The two of you end up standing in line, holding a modest armful of clothing that you’re pretty sure will fit, waiting for your turn at the checkout. It’s not even a matter of what you’re planning to buy at this point—your headache has only gotten worse and it’s all you can do not to lose your fucking mind. You reached the breaking point about ten minutes ago and you’re absolutely going to go batshit if you don’t leave this store immediately. Which is why when Joon starts doing that ‘patting himself down in surprise’ motion, you’re thrown into palpable despair.

“Oh, shit.”

“No. No, Namjoon.” You plead through gritted teeth, throwing him a desperate look.

“My wallet’s in the car.”

“Damn you, goddamn you—“

He grabs your arms with an apologetic smile that dimples his cheeks. “Just stand off to the side. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

“No, Namjoon. No.”

But he’s already skipping away from you, holding up two fingers and mouthing ‘two minutes’ back your way. You hate him. You hope he gets run over while he’s out there.

You trudge over to a nearby empty counter, dumping your armful onto it, resisting the urge to throw yourself on the pile and pull a pair of jeans over your head. Your brain hurts, your teeth are chattering, it’s too bright, it’s too loud, it smells, god, it smells, you had no idea you were so sensitive, you are so ready to go home. And by now you don’t even care that you’re calling it home. You can’t afford to care. What you wouldn’t do for more medication. For that turtle. Oh, how you lament the absence of that heavenly reptile.

“Hey.”

You start at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, sounding up and away but too close to the back of your head. You turn, casting your glance up at the tall man standing by the counter. He’s not a worker; instead of their overly bright getup he’s sporting a leather jacket and black jeans. You don’t understand why he’s talking to you, if that’s the case, and you’re not really in sure how to pretend otherwise at the moment. His grin is crooked, raising his eyebrows expectantly, but at your expression his mischievous look fades.

“…Sorry, I thought I knew you!” He says after an awkward moment. Your heart seizes. Knew you?

He gestures with his hands as he explains. “Y’know, from the back, you look—I thought I recognized you.”

“…O-oh.” You aren’t sure what to say to that. Fuck, you sincerely hope he was mistaken. You hadn’t even considered what would happen if someone who used to know you sees you. The person you were before…before this. You don’t think you recognize him.

There’s another pause, where you turn away slightly, willing this moment to be over, but he doesn’t move. The moment instead stretches into forever. You would like to cease existing.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine! I’m—“ God, it’s been a long time since you’ve spoken to real people. You crane back around, forcing a smile that you hope doesn’t look too forced. “I’m fine. Just waiting. My, um.” You stumble over a way to define Namjoon, deciding in the end to abandon it entirely. “He left his wallet in the car.”

“Hm.” He doesn’t look convinced, flashing you a cursory up-and-down glance. Actually, looking at him, he’s pretty handsome himself. Wide lips, strong nose. A jawline to kill for. His neck is thick. You wonder what else of him—no, no. No. No. You like his eyes, you decide weakly. He’s got kind eyes. Good, nice eyes.

“Do you mind if I talk to you?”

You frown, throwing him another glance. Misgiving pools in your stomach warningly. You really, really aren’t in any kind of state to be carrying conversations with strangers. “Uh.”

He casts a look around, casual if not for the serious slant to his strong brows. He leans forward, pulling one edge of his jacket to the side. You see a flash of silver, recognize the badge hooked to the inside, and it clicks in your head, despite the chaos spinning around the edges of the world like a sick carousel. You don’t see much of the ID badge underneath but for his name, and his serious-faced photo, before he tucks it back away. Jackson. His name is Jackson.

“…You’re a cop.”

“Nothing’s the matter,” he reassures, holding out a hand placatingly, eyes watching yours. “Just like to ask you a few questions.” He jerks his head at the entrance.

“Come with me.”

Oh. Relief floods your limbs so intense you almost sigh aloud. That’s okay, then. Yeah, that’s fine. The clothes’ll be alright here for a second longer, you’re sure. You’re already following him as he peels off the counter and starts walking casually, your doubts melting away, making your steps lighter. Local police. Just a few questions, yeah. You can handle that. God, you were so afraid for a minute. The thought makes you chuckle under your breath when his back is turned as he leads you out the door, turning the corner to an alcove by the entrance. You definitely can handle whatever this handsome stranger wants to dole out.

He turns when you get there, stepping to the side so you can tuck yourself by the side of the building, out of view of any nosy people.

“How can I help you, officer?” you ask demurely, a smile curling the edge of your lips. Just being out of that building is helping your headache immensely. It’s fading as you speak, releasing its grip on your jaw, your thoughts.

He cranes over his shoulder to survey the parking lot behind him and you take the brief respite to admire the way his shirt pulls across subtle pecs, across broad shoulders, underneath the jacket that does little to hide his physique. The way he fills those black jeans. You like the obvious power in what you can see. Is it weird to be checking the cop out? No. No, certainly not. You resist the urge to bite your lip when he looks back to you and grins again. He’s cute when he smiles.

“So where are you from?”

“Ah…not too far from here, actually,” you return, playing at shy.

“No?” he chuckles, and the giggle threatening to bubble up past your lips finally wins over. You sway a little with the girlish sound. It’s all part of the act. You’re a normal human girl talking to a normal, albeit strikingly handsome, police officer. Everything is fine. “You sure? You aren’t from a little further up north? Think very carefully.”

You shake your head, grinning. The world around you spins delightfully when you do, fuzzing slightly about the edges. It’s really warm out here. You didn’t notice that before. It’s nice. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Don’t think so?” he echoes, stepping closer. That’s good. You like that. Your heartbeat quickens in your throat. “Weird way to answer…are you having trouble remembering?”

“Maybe.” You giggle again, feeling a thrill wash through your frame when he takes another step forward, threatening to invade your space. You fall back to the wall, leaning your head against it to allow yourself a better view of his smirk. Your head doesn’t want to stay upright properly, but the wall helps. If you can just get him a little closer…maybe you could…he is very handsome. And his lips…You stare at them with hunger pooling in your gut, intently watching the way they pull when he scoffs. Very kissable. Check.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess,” he murmurs in that low growl of his, “About who you really are…”

One hand comes up to brace against the wall, caging you in. You can feel his warmth now. Can smell the mint on his breath. Your stomach twists in anticipation. There’s something familiar in his expression now. A darkness. A hunger. You’re beyond pleased to see it in a face so handsome.

“Going by these…” he hums, and you feel a finger dragging against the column of your neck, slipping underneath the scarf. You huff a pleased breath, craning to press more of your skin towards him, nearly moaning when he presses his hot palm against the bitemarks in a curious fashion. “And…this…” His hand slides down, disentangling from the fabric, fingertips grazing your sternum, too close to the mark at your breast. He’s finding your little secrets very easily, you think with a hushed giggle. You wonder if he’ll get the next one. You hope he gets the next one. Arousal crawls down your spine and you arch at the thought, suddenly desperate for it.

“Hah, fuck, wow, that’s a reaction, huh? They treat you nice?”

You’re nodding, whimpering when his hand starts towards your hip. He nuzzles forward, presses a testing peck against your lips but you surge towards him, clutching at his wide shoulders, pulling him closer. He chuckles breathlessly against your mouth as you kiss him, a free hand going to his wrist and tugging it towards your inner thigh. He tastes like mint gum, warm lips caressing yours firmly, supple and pliant.

“Are you good for them?” he whispers between kisses. “Hmm?”

“So good,” you simper, humming when he nips lightly at your mouth. “I’m so good.”

“What do they call you? Are you their little whore? Little pet? Hm?” he clutches the meat of your thigh suddenly, and your approving squeak is muffled by his tongue, wet, slippery, sloppy.

“Could you be good for me too?” he growls when you part, licking across your swollen lips. The sound of it, already so rough, so low, has you twitching. “Could you add one more to your little collection?”

“Yes,” you’re tugging him closer, writhing when his hand ghosts to cup you between the legs, firm, possessive, demonstrative. “Y-Yes, yes, I can be good.”

“Can you be quiet?” he adds with a hushed laugh, raising his eyebrows at your fevered expression as you continue to scrabble at him, yanking on his jacket, his wrist, begging and twisting. “You have to—shh,” he shushes you when you keen, pressing his fingers closer to your pussy through Yoongi’s sweatpants, feeling for your heat and finding it easily, “You’re too fucking loud. You have to be quiet, or else—“

“She’s very vocal.”

You almost cry out in pleasure when you hear the voice that breaks through the cop’s low mumbling, arching and trembling against the wall. But he told you to hush, so you bite down on your lip, vision swimming with sweet obedience and heady recognition.

“I can see that.” The dark-eyed officer chuckles after a beat, his hand slipping from your apex despite your muffled, disappointed noise and attempts to pull him back. “Shocked nobody’s been called in for domestic disturbance around yours yet.” He pulls his hand from you easily, leaning back and turning to better address the owner of voice behind him.

Arousal skitters up your spine, coiling in your limbs, at the way Namjoon flicks you a momentary, disapproving look, his jaw ticking. Is he thinking of punishing you for this? You hope so. But his plump lips curve into an overly-pleasant smile, eyes crinkling as they cast to the other man.

“By all means, don’t let me interrupt.” He says smoothly. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

“I’d hate to get in any real trouble,” is the reply, just as cool. “Have to set an example for Yugyeom, right?”

Your body itches. Everything is warm, soft, bubbly, and the heat of the man in front of you is like a furnace, the hot center of your universe. You sneak your fingers into his belt loops, scooting him closer to you, and he allows it with a vaguely smug expression.

Namjoon’s smile doesn’t move, frozen on his face. “Your border is a few miles north from here, isn’t it? You’re cutting it a little close, don’t you think? Jackson?”

Jackson blinks, straightening. He grabs your wandering hand by the wrist from where it had travelled around his side to his zipper (how on earth did it get there, you wonder with a snicker), holding it up and away from his body with one wide palm. You whine through your nose. “We’re just passing through.” His tone has turned more serious. Respectful. “Avoiding the main roads. Won’t be spending more than a few hours this close to your territory.”

“Passing through?”

Jackson hesitates.

“We’re leaving, Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s smile falls, curving into a confused frown, his brow creasing. “What do you mean, you’re leaving?”

“It’s too slim here. We’re not having any luck lately. It’s my turn to disappear anyways.”

You press up against Jackson’s side, trying to slide your other hand up under his shirt, but he catches that one, too, holding you prisoner against the tacky feel of leather and his body heat. You mewl pointedly, hands straining, rocking against him. What’s he so busy for? Can’t he see that you need it? Your mouth waters. You need it…Up against this wall, bent over—you imagine Namjoon joining in and the thought has you aching. You can always prove how good you are. Can always show your new friend how good you can be for him.

Namjoon’s frown takes his lips with it, bares his teeth in a grimace. “You can’t be serious. What, already? What are we supposed to do?”

Jackson cocks his head in your direction and returns your sly grin with a raise of his eyebrows, briefly looking you over with an expression that makes you wet. You hum, trying to send him psychic requests for touching, kissing, biting through your locked gaze.

“Looks like you’re already doing something.”

“She…she was an accident.”

“And here I thought you and Jin had finally made nice.” Jackson looks back to Namjoon, neck lolling with disbelief. He lets go of your hands, spinning and suddenly disentangling you from him in one smooth motion. He pushes your arms to your own chest and looks you dead in the eyes again. Hours pass where you’re lost in his eyes, caught in the endless depths of obsidian, floating in nothing and everything.

“Don’t. Move.”

A shiver wracks your body violently, and you have to throw yourself against the wall just to avoid crumpling to the ground with the pleasure that comes with obeying. You won’t move, you won’t move. You can do that for him. You press yourself to the brick, shuddering and panting quietly, eyes trained on his frame, watching how the world seems to heave with your every breath, lends him and Joon halos, makes heat spark and flare inside of you.

“You’re not actually leaving. We need you up north. Who’s taking your place?”

Jackson shakes his head, craning back to Namjoon. His tongue flits to wet his lips, gaze flicking upwards. You can think of better places his tongue could be. “No one. All of us are headed southwest.”

“Jaebum has better sense.”

“Back when it was an option.”

“You can’t just fucking leave, Jackson, we need cover. Now more than ever.”

“Wasn’t that the point of Jungkook?”

Ohh, Jungkook. You like Jungkook. Jungkook would take you. Press you up against the wall again, like when you met, but this time…you’re threatening to drool. Not moving is really hard.

“Jungkook is a kid. They’ll notice eventually. Jin isn’t thinking about the long term.”

“Then you’ll have to move anyways. You can’t just stubborn your way through everything, Namjoon.”

Namjoon’s smile returns, but it’s tight, dangerous. He looks like a predator. It’s a good look, makes you warm and wet all over, but you know better than anyone how to smooth it off him.

“I appreciate your opinion.”

“Good. I like giving it.”

“Stay out of my territory.” He pulls the phrase through his grin, low and heavy with threat. “If I catch any of you with so much as a toe over the line, I’ll pull you apart.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Like I said, we’re just passing through. Thought we’d grab one for the road in between territories.” Jackson flashes you another glance and you shiver. “…I won’t say anything about her, though. For you.”

“I told you she was an accident. You know times are tough.”

“I don’t agree with taking them like this. I don’t know anyone who does.”

“It’s temporary.”

Jackson shrugs.

“I’ll leave her with you anyway.” He says finally, with a sniff. “From the smell of her, you’ve got enough to worry about with just the two of you involved.”

He ruffles the back of his hair as he starts to walk. Namjoon doesn’t step aside for him, only watching as he gets close. When he comes within distance, he reaches forward and takes his arm. It’s weirdly gentle, familiar. You wish he’d grab you instead. Less gently would be preferable. Be nice if you could move, also.

“Tell me someone is staying.” Namjoon pleads. His eyes are genuine as he searches the other man’s. “Someone, anyone. Tell me we’ve still got cover. That the riots won’t reach us.”

Jackson slowly, hesitantly, places his hand on top of Namjoon’s.

“…You said it yourself. Times are tough, Joon.” He replies, quiet. “I’m sorry.”

This time, when he moves to walk past, both hands slipping from his arm, Namjoon angles his body to the side to allow him the space to continue.

“By the way,” Jackson adds after a beat, “You might want to check the ‘most wanted’ lists for up north. I could be wrong, but I think you’ve got one more problem.”

Namjoon’s head drops into a defeated nod, worrying his lower lip through his teeth as Jackson turns the corner out of sight, back towards the entrance.

Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move. A particularly violent shudder courses through you and you whine at the feeling of disobedience, but your body is shaking, breath coming in irregular pants. You’ve broken out in a sweat, your entire frame twitching and needy. Namjoon’s form ahead of you has you wanting, knowing he could make it better, he could kiss and lick and bite and touch and fondle and you need him to. But he only stands there, brow furrowed at the concrete beneath his feet, scratching at the back of his neck distractedly.

“N-Namjoon,” you whisper before you can stop yourself, feeling a thrill race through you when he freezes. Jackson said you needed to be quiet, so you don’t dare say much else, but when Namjoon looks up and meets your eye with a steely glare, you bite back a whimper.

“And you,” he says, low. “What do you have to say for yourself, hm?”

You only watch him, shivering.

“Speak,” he commands.

“Please, please, Namjoon,” you’re begging, babbling loosed from your lips in a tidal wave, “Please, I’m so hot, I need, I need you, I’m so warm, Namjoon, I need—“

“Were you going to let him fuck you?”

“I—“

“Were you. Going to let Jackson fuck you?”

“….I…” your mouth goes dry. At his scathing look you crumble. “Y-yes, yes, I wanted—“

“You were going to let him bite you?”

Your voice has become small, hesitant, but the surface of your skin still buzzes and every time you answer him, pleasure rushes up your spine. “Yes.”

“After I told you not to.”

“I’m hazed,” you whine, shuffling your feet, squeezing your thighs together.

He shakes his head, casting his glance to the side with an expression that morphs into desperation mirroring your own. “…Fuck.”

Yes. Yes, exactly. You concur.

“Come—” He gestures, but the movement doesn’t even register until you’ve already thrown yourself into his outstretched arm, nuzzling into his shirt, pressing as much of you against you as you can manage.

“—here,” he cuts off with a shocked wheeze when you slide your palm down past the front of his pants, rubbing for his cock through his jeans. A thrill runs through you at the realization that he isn’t soft under there. You growl. He grabs for your wrists, shaking, eyes wide as he tries to meet yours. “Hey, whoah, no—fuck, goddamn it.” “Naaaaaamjooon,” you complain. “I was gonna let you fuck me, too…”

“I can see that.” His voice is strangled. He pauses, grip briefly tightening over your wrists and you purr at the feeling.

“Get in the car,” he says finally.

“You could haze me more to get in the car,” you waggle your eyebrows at him, chuckling under your breath at the bubbliness of the world in the corners of your vision.

“Or I could tell you to get in the fucking car and then you just do it.”

“I’ll do something fucking for you, Namjoon.”

“Get. In the car.” He sounds strained, but you’ll take it. Eventually, he’ll give you what you want. You don’t even have to worry about it! You stumble with him to the car, giggling when he tries to usher you into the passenger’s side and avoid the way you’re trying to pull him on top of you.

By the time he comes around the other side to sit behind the wheel, he’s already chattering to himself under his breath. He does like to talk a lot.

“Get Hoseok to pull some strings with one of his, get those clothes bought, look up the wanted section—wanted? What the fuck does that have to do with anything? Godammit, Jackson—gotta give this time to wear off. Maybe we can sneak you past Yoongi. Maybe he’s sleeping. God, I hope he’s sleeping.”

Your hands are wandering again. Drifting over the center console as the car jerks roughly under you and starts speeding smoothly into the sunset. It’s way more interesting to you, what’s happening inside the vehicle. Your fingers dance over to Namjoon’s lap, trailing, watching his face for any sign that he’s going to stop you. His jaw clenches again and he throws you a grim glance.

“Don’t think about it.”

“Think about what.”

“You know what.”

“Taking your cock out?” You clarify innocently, watching with interest the shuddering inhale he takes. “Putting your cock in my mouth?”

“Exactly that.” His teeth are gritted.

“Tasting the tip?” you continue, curious, brushing a palm against his crotch, feeling triumphant at the way the fabric stirs, the way he shifts underneath you. “Or deeper?” Your mouth isn’t working exactly the way you’d like, you’re slurring pretty hard, but you’re already drooling at the thought of sucking him off.

“I’m trying to fucking drive,” he whines, and the sound takes you aback slightly, watching his brow crease in frustration. Consent. Namjoon likes consent. He likes it when you ask.

“Can I suck your dick?” You ask with a polite smile, delighted with yourself for figuring him out so quickly. “Namjoon?” His hips rise of their own volition, stuttering. He doesn’t reply beyond a sharp breath and you frown. Not a ‘no’. But not a yes.

Wait a minute. You’re being so silly. You’ve forgotten the most important part!

“Can I suck your dick, sir?...”

He growls.

“No.” he says. You pout. You did so well, and this is what you get for it. You’re a good girl, why is he going to act like this?

“But I—“

“No buts.” He snaps. “Hands to yourself. Don’t move until we get home.”

Gold dust bursts beneath your eyelids, gathers under your skin, slinks up your throat, and you lean back into the car to watch it curl up through the atmosphere. Your hands are by your side. Where they belong. Where they’ve always been. You barely even notice how hard Namjoon is breathing.

By the time you get home, the soft lights and rounded corners of the world have faded some—not enough to be gone, but enough that your attention has returned to the wetness between your legs. You’re so wet. There’s even a patch forming on Yoongi’s sweatpants. You hope he won’t mind. You recall the way he licked you up in the diner and shudder. He definitely won’t mind.

Namjoon leads you quickly out of the car and up the stairs to the apartment, refusing to look at you, eyes wild, brows furrowed, nostrils flaring and jaw working. He looks like he’s thinking about lots of important things. One of them ought to be how good you’ve been, and how much you need him to touch you, but you’ll let him come to that conclusion himself.

He halts violently in the front hall eyes wide.

“Shit.”

“…Namjoon?” Yoongi’s voice comes from the living room, sounding surprised, almost…guilty?

Namjoon immediately takes a few steps forward, body angled between you and the room.

You peer around him to snag a peek anyways. Yoongi stares back at you from his position on the couch, belly down and hunched over something black. The bags under his eyes are almost a weird shade of purple, they’re so dark. He looks like he’s dying, drawn and fixated. When your gazes meet, his tongue slips over his lips, slow, heady. You whimper before you’re even aware you’re doing it.

“Really? Yoongi?” Namjoon sounds exasperated. Worn thin.

“Really yourself,” Yoongi bites back, but his tone is gravelly. “When you said you were going shopping I thought it would be for longer than five minutes.”

“On the couch?”

Yoongi’s upper row of teeth suddenly bare in a lopsided grin with a mild chuckle. “Not the worst thing to happen on the couch. Right?”

His smile drops suddenly, nostrils flaring. A shiver crawls up your spine as you watch his hips rock forwards and his eyes flutter back in his head. “A-ah, fuck. What the fuck have you two been doing?...”

It isn’t until you feel Namjoons arm raising to halt you at your chest that you realize you’ve been scooting forward in a trance, trying to catch a closer look at the fabric that Yoongi presses his face into now with a low groan.

“Yoongi…” Joon swallows, hard, “You should go back in your room.”

“She’s fucking hazed, isn’t she, Joon? Fuck, she’s so wet,” he continues to hiss under his breath, as if to himself. “Fuck, she’s so wet.”

This time you can see his arm shift, can hear a slick noise from underneath him, his breath catching. His jeans are hanging a little low on his hips, baring a black strip of underwear, you realize, and with that realization comes understanding. The fabric is Namjoon’s old hoodie. He’s got it pinned to the couch beneath him. When he nuzzles into it, you recognize the faded pattern from the hem brushing his nose. It’s upside down, so that his face is where…where your pussy was.

“It was a mistake,” Namjoon says while your world spins dizzyingly with arousal.

“Hmm…” Yoongi grunts, impossibly low in his throat. “Lots of those.” He doesn’t sound fully cognizant of what he’s saying. It’s absent, slurred. You see why when he twists his head again, mouth lolling open to lap secretively at the hoodie, his tongue pointed and firm. Arousal slips heat down your back, between your legs when you spot his bared teeth. Long, sharp, glistening with saliva as he exhales shakily. Oh, yes. That’s what you want.

Namjoon’s arm presses against you and he takes a half a step back, taking you with him even though you don’t really want to walk backwards. The way Yoongi tucks his head into the hoodie, his hair splaying against the fabric, inhales loudly, humps forward, hips curling with a sloppy sound that indicates just how wet he is in his own palm—it reminds you of an animal.

“Gonna bite holes in the couch, Joon,” he warns thick, muffled. “Mmm…I’m going to lose my fucking mind. She’s fucking hazed. God, I-I can’t do this.”

“It’s only been a day.” Namjoon’s voice is strained. You cast a curious look at him, but immediately your eye is drawn to the tent growing in his pants. He tries to move it, tries to casually tuck it out of view, but it’s too late, the damage is done, and a huff of desire escapes from your throat, eyes threatening to bulge out of your head. You like very much the way things are shaping up. “It’s only been a day—“

“Fuck. Fuck.”

“—We need to give her time to recover—“

Yoongi makes a noise that’s too close, too close, to a high-pitched whimper, his head still bent, hiding his face.

“Recover nothing, recover is bullshit,” he’s babbling, dark, frustrated, garbled by the pillows underneath him. “I need—“

“It’s not a good idea.”

“I need to be inside of her now, Namjoon.” Yoongi pulls his head back up, laying his cheek ontop of the hoodie. His eyes are blown wide, all traces of brown swallowed by obsidian, hooded and piercing as he meets your gaze, blazing a path straight through you. His delicate lips can barely keep his teeth at bay, bitten, abused pink playing peekaboo with glistening pinpricks of ivory. His jet hair spiders out across his forehead, stuck in places with sweat. “I need to drain her.”

“It isn’t a good—“

“I’ll kill you.” It fights its way past his lips, stuttering and stammering, like an addict denied his high, lent credence by the way he digs his nails into the sofa, ruts into his own hand. “I—I’ll, Joon, I’ll fucking kill you.”

There’s a pause of silence, punctuated only by your breathing and the soft fabric noises as Yoongi humps the couch.

“…No, you won’t.” Namjoon’s voice is soft. Quiet. He sighs through his nose, long and weary.

Yoongi opens his mouth to reply, but he stills at the same time you see movement in the corner of your eye. A hand drifting to the hem of Namjoon’s second hoodie. Its twin, on the other side. Shuffling its grip up, taking the hoodie and the scarf with it, peeling it up and over your head with all the gentleness of a caretaker. You can’t look away from Yoongi. He’s stopped moving entirely, too-bright eyes watching you from over the pillows, a snake in the grass ready to strike. You don’t think he’s breathing. Namjoon’s hands return, slipping long fingers beneath the elastic waistband. He shucks them off you, helping you step out by placing your hand on his shoulder. One leg at a time. You sway a little, completely nude, standing in the living room like a sacrificial offering to the heathen gods. And the intensity with which the creature on the couch watches you, your chest heaving with heady breath, tells you that analogy isn’t far off.

You next feel warmth at your hand, wandering fingers drifting to clutch yours in a show of unexpected softness.

“We aren’t going to hurt her,” Namjoon says, fighting to keep a tremble out of his voice. Is it excitement? Fear? “We’re going to take care of her. Right, Yoongi?”

“Fuck,” Yoongi whispers, eyes wide.

“We aren’t going to hurt her.”

“No.” Yoongi echoes.

“We’re going to take care of her.”

“Yes.”

“I will use force if I have to.”

“Mm.”

Namjoon nods, once. The hand at yours disappears, reappearing with a sudden grip of your hair, tugging your head back.

“You wanted so badly to suck cock, baby,” Namjoon snarls into your ear, sending hot breath coasting against your neck, making you squeal when he yanks unmercifully, his grip burning against your scalp, “Here’s your fucking chance. You’re going to take Yoongi down your throat like a good slut. I don’t want you coming up for breath. Do you understand?”

“I understand, sir,” you mewl immediately, scrabbling upwards, delicate fingers flying to his with no effect. The switch has left you reeling with whiplash, but it makes you shake all the same. All the same, it makes you ache. He releases you, shoving forward, and you stumble, catching yourself on the arm of the couch, just beside Yoongi’s head.

Yoongi still hasn’t moved. You slide to the front of the sofa, eyes trained on his, unable to keep down the feeling of being a steak in a lion’s den. But he uncurls from his position, turning to reveal his dick to you, head cocked, hands clutching the cushions on either side of his legs like he has half a mind to tear them to shreds.

You almost choke, just looking at him. Flushed a painful red from tip to base, bright veins bulging angrily, twitching in the cold air apart from his hand. Coated in precum, streaks shining in the light down what you can see of his lower belly, wet patches soaked through the bottom of his white shirt, glazing his cock. Under your stare, it oozes another dribble, and suddenly you’re famished.

“Please.”

It doesn’t register as a word until he shifts, legs widening, hands kneading. You look back to his face. He looks half out of his mind, eyes dark.

“Please.” He repeats, hoarse.

You’re already falling to your knees, jaw dropping opening with the sick plop of your tongue leaving the roof of your mouth, reaching for his thighs. His hips flex when you get close, easing his head past your lips and you can taste the heat before you even descend on him, sucking, laving at his fevered skin.

The noise he makes is sin, lust, and velvet. Not far from a purr. His hands don’t move from where they’re digging into the cushions, allowing you to take as much of him as you want, as much as you can. You fill your senses with him greedily; his taste, his smell, every twitch of his thighs and every bob of his cock into your mouth.

You feel wandering fingers trace your spine, curling around your ass, alighting to your dripping pussy with intent. When two push inside, eased tremendously by the seemingly endless slick that drips from your entrance, you arch into him.

“Y-You fuck her first,” Namjoon’s murmuring from behind as he presses his fingers into you, scissoring, stretching, curling seekingly. You hump against his hand, trying to push him deeper even as you suck Yoongi’s cock down your throat with a slavering eagerness. “Or-or maybe I do…M-maybe we…”

“Both,” Yoongi growls, sharp. A moan bubbles up around his member from your throat and his hips rise to meet the sensation, almost lazy if not for the way he shakes. You feel a hand curling into your hair less than gently, by your face, tugging your head a little to the side so that he can look you in the eye while you suckle at his head. He’s grinning, feral and distant. As your gazes lock, he scrunches his nose at you in a playful snarl.

“You have two holes for a reason, don’t you think?” he drawls past a slur. “Let’s see how wide we can stretch them.”

Behind you, Namjoon grunts deep in his throat and his pace stutters. “Sh-shit, that’s—“

“She wants it. You want it, don’t you? You want me in your ass. You want Namjoon in your cunt. Admit it.” He tsks, his tone dropping somehow lower. “Admit it, and we’ll prepare you first.”

He pulls you off his cock with a fierce tug of your locks caught between his knuckles, teeth baring again in a half smirk, half grimace as he watches you take deep gasping breaths with all the tenderness of a hawk surveying its squeaking prey.

“I—I do.”

“Little whore.” The vampire in front of you hisses, murmurs, but the thumb brushing against your swollen lips is akin to fond. “I know you do. You want Namjoon’s fingers in your tight little hole?”

You’re nodding into his palm, trying to shift your weight more comfortably on your knees. Either he doesn’t notice or he’s pretending not to, perfectly fine with allowing you to arch, crane. Twitching when Namjoon’s fingers bump against those perfect places inside of you with slick, overly wet noises.

“You want him to stretch you wide for me. You want to beg us for it.”

“I do. I want it.”

“I don’t know that she can take it,” Namjoon mumbles, hoarse, but his fingers give you one more pump, squelching into your arousal, before they’re sliding slowly out, tracing up back towards your spine.

“She’ll fucking take it.” Yoongi’s leading you back to his cock, pressing your cheek to his strained member. His head throws back with a low groan when you obligingly lick up as much of his skin as you can, tasting salt and feeling the heat under your tongue. “She’ll take it and she’ll love it.”

“I’ll take it so good,” you agree between laves, between sloppy kisses and slurps. “I’ll take it.”

Warmth presses experimentally against the tight ring of muscles at your ass. When you tense thoughtlessly, it immediately disappears, Namjoon exhaling shakily.

“I don’t think—“ he mumbles.

“I think,” Yoongi snaps. “Stop fucking thinking, Namjoon. Just do it.”

There’s a pause, a shuffling from behind you, the sound of a bottlecap popping open. The fingers return, and this time you make sure to roll towards them, humming your approval as you lathe up and down Yoongi’s member sloppily. This time, you recognize a much slicker feeling—he must have found lube. Just for you. How nice of him. One digit presses deeper, sinking into you and you huff a sigh at the strange sensation; even with the lube, it hurts, just a little, just a sting, but it’s warm and smooth, filling you up. Another finger pad rubs comforting circles into your clit as he pumps his finger steadily into your asshole. Yoongi purrs with appreciation at the both of your compliances, hips twitching.

“Mm, yeah, stretch her good. Stretch her so good, so I can slip right inside of that tight little ass.”

Namjoon introduces a second finger and you have to stop sucking Yoongi’s cock to rest your head in his lap, keening at the intrusion. It burns, it burns, but the thought of taking his member inside of you, the thought of taking both of them, has you shaking with anticipation.

“Hoseok’s gonna be so mad,” Yoongi mutters, watching you whimper and carding lithe fingers through your hair. “His loss.”

Namjoon’s abrupt chuckle is humorless and short. “Hoseok is in big trouble for that stunt he pulled last night.”

“Hmm? What stunt?” The corner of Yoongi’s mouth twitches upwards in a knowing grin. A hand explodes against your ass, forcing you to jump, working yourself harder on Namjoon’s fingers, and you moan thickly.

“Tell him.”

“H-Hoseok came in the room while I was being pun-punished,” You stutter as Namjoon slides a third finger into your quivering hole, stretching you further with a deep grunt. “He-he fucked my chest.”

Yoongi chuckles. “Shh,” he hums, mock-comforting, stroking your hair with one hand as his other drifts to his own member, teasing at the purpled, leaking head absently, drifting to lock around his base. “I know. I know. Did you like it? Hm? You did, didn’t you? I bet it made you so fuckin’ wet for Hobi’s cock.”

He makes a thick noise deep in his throat. “Namjoon.”

“Gently,” is the response. Namjoon’s fingers slip out of you, even as your body clamps down on him as if trying to convince him deeper, and the rush of pleasure as they’re removed has you shuddering. “Go slow.”

But Yoongi’s gripping your hair, patting your cheek, is excited and rushed. Feverish.

“Turn around. Turn around,” he urges.

Obediently, you sit up shakily, assisted by an arm slipping beneath yours, and turn to face Namjoon. At some point, he’s taken his shirt off, unbuttoned his pants to better stroke at the bulge growing at his crotch. His eyes are hooded, his lips are red from his own worrying. He flicks his eyebrows at you when Yoongi’s hand comes up with a sharp crack on your asscheek, jolting you forward. You can hear him shuffling out of his pants entirely behind you.

“Ready?” Joon asks.

You nod, leaning up and seeking out his lips again. He kisses you back briefly, hands alighting on your waist to encourage you down. Yoongi’s hands drift over your ass, your thighs, tugging you closer, pulling you to meet the hot skin of his lap. His fingers as they dance over your cheeks, shifting you open so that he can rub the tip of his dick against your opening. The hot, slick feeling of his velvet head finally breaching the tight ring of muscle has you gasping, scrabbling at Namjon’s arms.

Yoongi is definitely bigger than Namjoon’s fingers. As you sink down on him, impaling yourself on his cock, you clutch forward at Namjoon desperately, mouth open to allow for the breathless mewls escaping your throat. Behind you, Yoongi grunts and hums directly into your ear, tsking through his teeth.

“Are you okay, baby?” Namjoon murmurs, almost sweet if not for the feverishly intent way he watches his elder penetrate you. “Is that still good?”

“Big,” you hiccup, unconsciously trying to shift your hips to accommodate the girth as it parts your walls. “It-it’s big.”

“I know,” he soothes. He keeps up petting your cunt, brushing your clit, rubbing your tits. He leans forward, pressing soothing kisses to your collarbone, up your neck, the edge of your mouth. “I know. You tell me if it’s too much.”

“Oh fuck,” Yoongi growls, low, when he finally bottoms out, sheathing himself completely inside you. “Oh fuck. God, you take it so good. You take it so well. Are you sure Jin’s boys didn’t do this for you?”

“N-No.” You’re glowing at the praise, at the attention, as you adjust. The pain quiets to an ache the longer you sit there, but you won’t deny the twitching in your limbs, the leaking of your pussy. It isn’t taking you too long to warm to the idea of taking both of them at the same time.

“No? No, just us, hm? Think they’ll be jealous, Namjoon?” Yoongi catches your earlobe with a bite that’s a little too sharp, humming.

“Jealous that we got to have so much of baby? Oh, yeah.” Namjoon mumbles, kissing you deep. His tongue slides across yours, sweet and gentle. Your lips smack obnoxiously when you part, the sound so loud in this enclosed space between your faces. “Jealous that she’s ours.”

“Is that right?” Yoongi’s hips move experimentally, thrusting shallow, and you moan at the sensation. It’s like he’s reaching through you to your guts, and you love it. “Are you ours? Hmm?”

“Y-yours,” you choke, humping with him.

Eyes caught in yours, Namjoon fishes his cock out of his underwear, giving the thick length a pump, two, before he’s edging closer. He’s kissing you again as he sinks into you, and you melt into the bliss of being held so intimately, so gently. Yoongi at your back, rocky steadily into your ass, Joon at your front, thrusting into your wet pussy, both humming and grunting with the effort as you writhe helplessly between them. You’re so full, so full, disallowed from resting between thrusts with the alternating rhythm they quickly fall into.

“F-fuck,” Namjoon growls. “So good, you’re doing so good for us, baby.”

When he thrusts especially hard, you can feel it criminally deep inside of you and you arch, hips lifting to meet him. The feeling of both of them fucking into you simultaneously, breathing into your ears, moaning, has you roiling in ecstasy, strong, warm arms holding you up, moving you against them, caressing breasts and rolling your clit.

“I-I’m not going to fucking last…” Joon warns.

Yoongi chuckles breathily, licking his lips so sloppily it’s loud.

“Cum in her,” he demands, hoarse, “Give her everything. I want to feel it.”

There’s the sound of the lock turning at the front door. Namjoon’s pace quickens with a groan. He starts pounding into your cunt, leaning over you with his brow furrowed, lips parted, sweat making his neck, his cheeks, glisten. His cock fucks so smoothly into your cunt, stretching you around his girth, bottoming out and slipping until he finally settles for rocking up deep into you. The sounds his pelvis makes as he fucks you perfectly are loud, stuttering.

“Gonna, gonna,” he mumbles, licking up your lips.

“Hoo!” Hoseok’s voice calls from the front hall, “What is going on in…here…?”

Joon stills inside you with a violent thrust, cock buried deep inside of your guts, pulsing as he paints your walls with wet warmth, exhaling a grunt into the crook of your neck. Yoongi stills completely, moaning low in your ear.

There’s a pause, punctuated only by the heavy breathing of everyone present. Namjoon presses a sweet kiss to your mouth, humping once, twice, sliding his spent cock from your gaping hole with a hiss.

When he moves to look to Hoseok, you get to see him too.

Standing in the hall, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. His hair’s wet at his forehead with sweat. Under your stare, he licks his lips. His eyes are already smoldering, congenial grin faded into a hungry look.

“You guys having fun?” he asks, falsely conversational.

“No, it’s the worst.” Yoongi’s deadpan reply doesn’t earn him more than a flick of the eyes. “You should probably go back to the studio.”

“Sorry, Hope,” Namjoon interjects softly, still panting. “It—we didn’t mean to go this far.”

“I did.” Yoongi interrupts again in a whisper. You jolt at the feeling of his hot, slick tongue suddenly wetting a path up your neck to your ear. You squirm, both of you moaning quietly when you jostle his cock inside you.

Hoseok shrugs, lips curving into a pout. He slips his gym bag off his shoulder, tossing it carelessly to the ground as Joon flops to the side of the couch, far enough to be out of the way but close enough to keep a discerning eye on Yoongi.

“Well. I’m here now…” Hoseok says low, stalking closer. You’re suddenly very aware of how lewd you must look right now. Yoongi buried in your ass, Joon’s cum leaking out of your wrecked pussy.

“Hmmm about that…Hoseok misbehaved, didn’t he?” Yoongi murmurs into your ear, his breath tickling your neck. He shifts, beginning to roll into you again, stealing your breath. “Left you high and dry. What do you say we leave him?”

It’s impossible to concentrate, between his smooth fucking into your asshole, the way Joon’s rapidly cooling cum runs down your cunt, the smoldering glare that Hoseok throws your way.

“We can make him watch.” Yoongi’s next thrust is overly excited, and you jerk back into him with a loud moan, back arching as his cock parts your tight hole and slips up into your depths. It dislodges more of the cum inside you, encouraging it to ooze out in a fresh glob painting your slit. “Hmmm…we can make him watch and he can fucking cream all over himself in his ridiculous fucking pants. Make him clean it up, suck it up out of the fabric, no hands.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Hoseok’s smile is not friendly. It’s dark, dangerous—not far removed from an animalistic sneer.

“You don’t think I would?” is the glib response, heavy with promise, punctuated by a grunt when you clench around him. Hoseok’s smile disappears.

“Fuck, fuck,” Yoongi pants into your skin, tsking through his teeth. “What a fucking idea. What a fucking idea. You want to see it, too, don’t you?”

“P-promised,” you stammer, mind reeling, toes curling.

“What was that, slut?” Yoongi snarls, a free hand curving around your neck. Namjoon’s eyes dart to his fingers with an expression that betrays how ready he is to save you, even as he continues to recover from his position on the floor, but Yoongi doesn’t tighten his grip more than enough to choke your words and make it difficult to slur through them.

“He, H-Hoseok promised, he promised, t-to fuck me.”

“He promised to fuck you.”

“Mm,” you whimper, nodding, vision swimming with heady pleasure.

“You can’t get enough, is that what you’re telling me?”

“N-no.” You moan when he starts to thrust even harder into you.

“Never enough cock for you. Never stuffed full enough, never satiated. It would take all of us, wouldn’t it, and still you’d beg for more. Tell me I’m wrong.

Come here,” he barks, fevered, without waiting for your reply. “Get over here.”

Automatically, Hoseok moves, the edges of his expression softening as Yoongi’s haze pulls a veil over his eyes. He doesn’t even get a full step forward before Yoongi is commanding him again.

“Down. Knees.”

Hoseok’s legs buckle at the knees, his head flopping forward, eyes fixated on the unbelievably erotic sight of Yoongi’s cock disappearing into you and reappearing covered in juices and lube, the way your pussy weeps clear arousal and thick white seed down your thighs, soaking into the couch beneath you.

“Tell her you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry.” It escapes his mouth easily enough, but his lips twitch in a faint grimace afterwards, as though the words leave a bad taste on his tongue. Yoongi fucks harder into you, before grunting and suddenly grasping your hips with both hands, one on either side. You can feel him twitching deep inside of you, but he doesn’t cum yet, just rocks upwards, curls absently against your back.

“How sorry?”

“So sorry.”

“Prove it. Show her. How fucking sorry you are.”

Hoseok’s eyes flit upwards, catching you in their endless chocolatey depths. You feel warmth, palms, curling over your thighs, holding you splayed in front of him with long hands. Maintaining eye contact, he leans forward, jaw inching open, tongue presenting itself, before he makes contact with your pussy, licking a long, hot stripe upwards. A low moan claws its way out of your chest, your hips thrusting forwards and halted by their hands, Yoongi’s on your waist, Hoseok’s pinning you to Yoongi, forcing you to take it as he starts to eat you in earnest. He slurps up Namjoon’s cum like he daren’t waste a drop of it, sucking it off your lips, sliding his tongue everywhere but your clit, rubbing through your folds, dipping like a man possessed into your cunt to retrieve as much of it as he can taste. You convulse with every flick, humming and whining, sweating, straining against their grip as Hoseok tilts his head, maneuvering this way and that, as though determined to lick up every trace of Namjoon from you.

“That’s it,” Yoongi growls thickly. “That’s it, just like that. Make her cum and I’ll let you inside her.”

The response is immediate. Hoseok forces your thighs apart even further, lips finding your clit easily and attaching with a decadent slurp so loud and so obnoxious your ears ring, holding you down as you shake and arch into him, moaning unintelligible pleas for mercy as he sucks you up like his last meal. Your body wracks, shivering, and you hardly even realize how near you are until you’re finally shoved off the precipice. You’re cumming, hard, scrabbling for purchase on Yoongi’s thighs, the couch beneath you, Hoseok’s fingers. The scream that tears itself from your throat is raw, over-extended and cuts out entirely at the end as pleasure races through your entire body, forcing you to convulse and shake.

Yoongi’s steady fountain of curses barely registers until you realize he’s begging just as painfully, as desperately as you are.

“Fuck, Hoseok,” he hiccups, “Fuck, hurry up, get—get in her, fuck, I can—I’m gonna—“

“Was that nice?” Hoseok preens as he pulls away. His mouth and chin are shining, glazed with your arousal. He licks absently at it, slipping the waistband of his sweatpants down teasingly, catching your eyes with a hazy, prideful smirk. “Was that good? You want Hobi to fuck you now, pretty girl? You forgive me yet, hm?”

“Stop fucking around,” Yoongi bites, hands dashing to your thighs from around your back. He opens your folds for you, presenting you even more prettily to the other vampire, who watches you twitch with satisfaction and desire. “Come fuck the communal whore.”

Hoseok’s cock is thinner than Namjoon’s, but it’s longer. When he lines up with your entrance, guided easily by Yoongi’s fingers, and presses in with one smooth motion, you release a deep exhale, head thrown back over Yoongi’s shoulder.

“There you go. There you fucking go.” He encourages in a mumble, hands raising, one to your neck to caress and fondle, the other to your hip, to steady as he and Hoseok start thrusting in tandem.

Hobi’s hips flow into you effortlessly, curling, stroking the inside of your cunt with precision that leaves you breathless. The difference between the fevered way Yoongi now rams unevenly into your ass, drawing thick breaths through clenched teeth, has you clenching around the both of them.

You feel something against your palm, and you turn to look, meeting Namjoon’s eyes. He watches you caught between his brothers, expression heavy. He wraps his fingers around yours, and you realize his other hand is curled around his own dick, stroking himself to the time of Yoongi’s thrusts. He leans his head back, staring at you past hooded eyelids, plush lips parted in quiet huffs as he twitches and releases again, small spurts up his chest, decorating his abdomen. The sight of him, shining with sweat and cum, pleasuring himself as you bounce, filled up and defiled, makes you cry out, wrapping one thigh around Hosoeok’s ass.

“Gonna fill up this pretty ass,” Yoongi hisses, “Gonna fill you up so good, fuck.”

“Good girl,” Hobi soothes through his grin, “Good, just like that, take it, yeah, take it.”

Yoongi’s pace becomes even more erratic, even more uneven, his voice giving way to high pitched mewls and low grunts, burying his cock inside you with a growl.

“N-Nam—“ he pants suddenly, arching, pressing his lower half to your back.

Namjoon sits up with a rush, hand disentangling from yours to reach upwards, just over your shoulder, and you can feel the force as Yoongi’s head is thrown backwards into the cushion of the sofa. His prick twitches and throbs, finally emptying himself into the cavern of your asshole, filling you with wet warmth. Hobi pushes forward one last, long drawn-out time, and cums inside your cunt with a huffed breath almost of surprise.

Behind you, you can hear Yoongi hissing, growling, whimpering. You can feel the struggle as he thrashes against Namjoon’s hold, his fingernails beginning to dig into your hips.

“You fucker,” he spits, seething. “I’m so fucking hungry, you son of a bitch. It’s your fucking fault, you fuck.”

“Shh, Yoongi,” Namjoon soothes, brows knitted together. “Shh, I know. I know.”

“Fuck you, Namjoon, let me drain her fucking dry. You’re such a cunt.”

Hoseok slides out of you, watching your pussy leaking fresh cum with absent satisfaction, brushing a thumb against a flushed lip to collect some of it. He leans up, smearing it across your mouth and you lean forward into him, sucking the digit into your mouth with an exhausted moan.

“Hobi, get her off him.” Namjoon says, sharp.

“Alright, alright. Come on, pretty girl,” Hoseok urges gently, wrapping his palms underneath your ass to help lift you upwards. You try to prop your legs up under yourself, but you’re so sore, so used up, they’re almost completely useless. Yoongi’s member leaves your ass with a plop, his release already beginning to ooze down your thigh. His hands are hesitant to leave your waist, but eventually trail off, obeying hushed encouragement from Namjoon. Hoseok pulls you to stand, into his still-clothed chest, propping you up on your feet and letting you lean against him.

“Can you stand?” he murmurs into your ear. You’re shaky, disoriented, clutching everything you can reach of him. You shake your head ‘no’, burying your face into him, inhaling the comforting scent. “Okay.”

He slowly moves to collect his pants from the ground, keeping your hands on his shoulders as he bends. When he straightens, he pulls the soft material up your legs, wiping at the thick liquid flowing freely from your abused holes. When you flinch away at a slightly rougher tug, he apologizes quietly under his breath, craning to press a weirdly sweet kiss to your cheek.

“I’m gonna take her to get cleaned up,” he says over your shoulder, rubbing comforting circles into your lower back.

“Good,” Namjoon replies, distracted. Briefly, you feel a hand at your calf, stroking upwards in a soothing kind of manner. As Hoseok turns, leading you down to the hall, you catch a glimpse of Namjoon sitting beside Yoongi on the couch. They’re embracing now, both glistening, both panting. Their eyes are closed, Namjoon’s peacefully if not for the worry that creases his brow, Yoongi’s screwed tightly shut.

“Didn’t mean it.” You catch Yoongi’s deep mumble, choked with emotion, as he buries his face in Namjoon’s shoulder.

“I know. I know. It’s okay.” Namjoon’s hand brushes up his back reassuringly, even for how it shakes. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

Hoseok leads you slowly to the bathroom, props you up in the shower. The space is too tight, too small, to comfortably fit both of you, but he gets down to business washing you clean with the kind of care you’d expect from someone who’s done it a million times before. He keeps you upright, sudsing you up, rinsing you down, keeping your hands on his shoulders, occasionally placing a steadying arm around your waist while he cleans the rest of you with lukewarm water. He hums while he works, some absent tune you don’t recognize.

“Namu seems to really like you,” he pipes up. “I saw that handholding jerkoff thing.” He shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “What a sap.”

You don’t have anything to respond with, so he continues.

“He’s not the type to like people easy, you know.” He sighs through his nose, craning to catch your eye with a nod to indicate how serious he’s being. “None of us are. I don’t know what Yoongi thinks…or if he does right now.”

He straightens to continue rinsing your hair, taking the utmost amount of care to avoid getting soap in your eyes. It feels nice. Warm.

“But if Namjoon likes you…I guess we’re going to have to take better care of you.”

There’s a pause.

“I am sorry.” He says finally. He sounds sincere. “For the tit job.”

Now you look up at him, too tired to really say or think much, but hoping he gets the expression you mean to send him. He grins, wide, and boops your nose with the loofah with a giggle.

“It was really hot, though.” He adds, in a mock-defensive pout. “Really hot. I jacked off earlier today just thinking about it, you know. Shit, maybe I’m falling for you.”

That makes him laugh, his signature cackle bouncing off the tiles of the bathroom.

Previous Masterlist Next

#moth to flame #bts x reader #bts smut #bts vampire au #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #do you see now #do you understand #why it took me so long #none of this was originally in it ok #(hey anon i hope this soothes our relationship. <3 u #sorry again)#FUCK yoongis fuckin MOUTH in this one #i dont know WHO i was CHANNELING #hand to god it only gets worse i just kEEP GETTING W O R S E #am i retconning hoseok being an asshole #eeeeeeyup lmao do what i wanna shrug #oh oh did you get my reference #w the other vampires #eeyyyyyy im not gonna put them in the tags cos its such a small bit part but eeeeeYYY #i dont actually listen to anyone but BTS im sorry i just wanted smone else to exist in this world that WASNT them ok #ive heard some of their stuff just havnt like #idk i dont follow anyone #i was incredibly into super junior when i started listening to kpop but thats cos i used it to write other smut :)#cos i couldn't understand korean #hey how you doing this is a lot of tags huh #well its been a long day alright #its been a day #ive been writing this chapter for so long i just wanna write my FEELINGS now

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haikyuu-imagines-and-others · 5 years

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Another android!reader, at aobajosai, where a!r is Oikawa's android and he treats her like shes a nothing robot junk, and Iwa has to step in because mama didnt raise a jerk. But as she grows and learns with his approach, Oikawa gets jealous and breaks something, so she has to get reset. And iwa's there when he goes to pick her up and she's just, "hello" like they didn't have the deepest connection just a few days prior--Green

I haven’t done DBH AU in SO long lol I feel like I hyped it up so hardcore and then forgot all about it after it fell out of trending :( Which sucks - but hey, I still love the characters, and I love their world! Super cool, super interesting! Anyway, thanks for the request, Green! -Admin Satori

**POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING? IMPLIED PAST ABUSE/ASSAULT**

Iwaizumi Hajime: DBH AU

A loud ‘THUNK’ followed with a slightly quieter rattle had you stuttering in your steps towards the kitchen. You blinked a few times before realizing you’d been hit with something, the error message of the impact displaying in your vision, unseen to the humans in the room.

“Why’d you do that, Shittykawa?”

Slowly, you turned on your heel to face your master, and his best friend, Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Then your eyes followed to where you’d heard the rattling of the fallen object. The remote for the television. Analyzing it, it was second nature for you to determine who was attacking you, you could see Oikawa’s familiar fingerprints smudged all over it.

Looking up, your eyes met his. The difference between the two gazes was visible - your dead eyed stare, a look of confusion on your perfect features as you tried to understand what caused his throwing something at you - his amused brown eyes, a smirk on his lips showing he knew exactly what he’d done. For absolutely no reason other than to mess with you.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes before he got up from the couch, going to kneel for the remote but stopping half crouch when you were already bending down to grab it. His hand touched yours, briefly, and he quickly pulled away, “You don’t have to do that, ________. He’s just being a dick.”

You stood straight, as did he, and gave him a gentle smile - an expression you assumed would calm his hiked heart rate… Though it only seemed to cause the opposite reaction as his body temperature seemed to rise with the smile. “This is my function, Iwaizumi-san.” You nodded to him once before walking past him to deliver the remote back to your master. “It seems you dropped the remote controller, Master.” He’d programmed you to have you call him the silly address every time you talked to him.

Oikawa raised an eyebrow, giving you a dark look with his curled lips, “Oh? Do you really think I, of all people, would drop something so easily, Tin Can?”

A lurch of your heart, a static in your brain, caused by his negative name for you. But you pushed the software instabilities away - your programmed response to smile and shake your head rising above whatever that was. “Of course not, Master. I must have dropped it myself. Here you are.” You placed the remote on his arm chair before turning and heading back to the kitchen. Passing Iwaizumi with a neutral expression.

“That’s what I thought.” Oikawa muttered, clearly pleased with himself at programming you correctly. He’d always wanted to be treated like a king. He’d had barely enough money, but with you running the house while he was out for work or school, he found he had more time to better himself in the fields that would bring him more funds.

Maybe he’d get two or three more of your model. You were, honestly, the best looking android out there, after all.

Iwaizumi frowned as he sat back down, giving Oikawa a disapproving look. “You don’t have to treat her that way, Trash Boy.” He crossed his arms and leaned back into the cushions, the sound of running water reaching his ears; you were cleaning up Oikawa’s earlier lunch - Iwaizumi had cleaned his dishes on his own.

“Her?” Oikawa gave Iwaizumi a withering look before breaking out into a fit of chuckles, “Oh yeah, sure, let me just treat her like any other human.” At Iwaizumi’s furrowed eyebrows, indicating his ‘well why wouldn’t you’ incoming question, Oikawa cut him off, “Why would I? I paid for it. It is my property, it does what I want it to. The perfect wife if humans were allowed to marry them.” He tossed his hands behind his head with a confident smile.

The look of disgust overcame Iwaizumi’s expression, “You wouldn’t treat your wife that way.”

“That’s why it’s an android. I can treat it any way I want.”

There was no reasoning with him, Iwaizumi came to realize. Oikawa was going to treat you the way he wanted no matter what - it was as if the purchase of your body and software had costed the young man his morals and understanding of rights and wrongs.

Soft tapping of footsteps had Iwaizumi turning his attention from the TV to you, cleaning up the kitchen table from the weeks food and homework sessions between the two friends. They’d made quite the mess. Your eyes scanned the surface, deciding which was the best route to the cleanest end. All options lead to a cleaned surface, you knew, but there was a certain way your master preferred things to be cleaned. It was in your programming to do it just that way. The blue of your LED showing you were content, doing exactly what you needed to be doing, staying in the lane predetermined for you.

A hand rested over yours as you went to grab an empty pizza box, “I’ll get that.”

*^^^ Software Instability*

You looked up at who the hand belonged to, feeling a jump in your thirium pump at the sight of Iwaizumi’s calm smile. A quick scan of yourself turned no anomalies or recalls of parts. You were in working order. Though, the yellow of your LED didn’t go unnoticed to Iwaizumi as he stared down at you.

“Please return to Masters side, Iwaizumi-san. I will take care of the house chores.”

He’d heard that dialogue option before. He’d heard it many times from you. But still, he grabbed the empty box of pizza, the forgotten paper plates filled with pizza and wing grease and sauce. You stared in confusion at his consideration, at his actions to make your job easier. Why would he do this? What drove this human to help the house android? He made sure to pick up whatever crumbs or fallen toppings were big enough to grab before he went to make his way to the trash can.

Only, Oikawa was standing in his path. And he didn’t look happy at all.

“I can’t believe you’re making our guest clean up. What kind of defective robot did I get?”

Your eyes widened, you recognized that tone of voice. He was furious. Livid. This did not bode well for your current serial number. You slowly turned so you were facing him, then turned down your head, “I am not defective, Master. Please accept my apologies as I was not quick enough to clean prior to Iwaizumi-san-“

“And now you’re blaming him? Wow… I’m getting real tired of having to spend my hard earned money on your repairs.”

Iwaizumi frowned and stepped in front of you, “Stop talking to her like she’s just some roomba.” Oikawa stared at his friend in disbelief, about to question his defending you, “She didn’t ask me to do anything for her, I figured you’d made a big enough mess for all of us to help.”

You stared at the back of your masters best friend. Your eyebrows furrowing as you struggled to understand why they were arguing over you. You were a simple android. Nothing to fight about. You reached up and patted Iwaizumi’s shoulder, the warmth of his human body sending a shock to your internal systems.

*^^^ Software Instability*

This was’t going anywhere, Oikawa realized. Iwaizumi was outlasting his welcomed stay. “Alright, I’ll stop talking to her like that… We still on for practice tomorrow?” Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow when Oikawa’s attitude seemed to do a 180. Now he was completely cordial. The change completely threw him for a loop, and he didn’t realize he was moving until he felt Oikawa slap his hand on his shoulder, “It was great having you over, Iwa-chan~. You always seem to make watching matches so much more fun!”

Iwaizumi frowned as he was led to the front door, where you stood with it open and ready for his departure. You didn’t look up from your feet, your face seemed devoid of anything you’d shown earlier. No gratitude, no small smile his way, not even blinking - for a moment it looked liked you’d shut down.

LED ring turning red, your eyes flickered from your shoes to his eyes. A flash of something indescribable filling your eyes before suddenly draining away. Too quick for him to make sense of in that moment. He wouldn’t find out until later that you’d been crying for help then and there.

His departure wasn’t any good news.

The next time he saw you, your clothing choice was much more… conservative. You wore a long sleeved turtle-necked sweater, the blue glow of CyberLife clothing showing itself in the gentle accents of your clothing, you wore pants this time - as opposed to the pencil shirt and no sleeved blouse he’d seen you in last time.

You also didn’t meet his eyes. Your hair was loose from the bun Oikawa always had you wearing, some strands still seemed stuck in the turtle neck you wore, it was as if you were using your hair to hide from him. Or hide something from him.

“Is she alright?”

Oikawa blinked his attention away from the window he was currently shopping through, glancing over at where you stood a good distance away from the both of them, the yellow of your LED ring showing you were in standby. “It’s fine. Just going through an update, I’m sure.” He brushed off Iwaizumi’s concern, going back to his shopping, perfectly content with his life and control over the things in it.

Iwaizumi wasn’t convinced though. He rolled his eyes at his friends nonchalant attitude, taking his shopping bags over to where you stood holding Oikawa’s. You didn’t blink at his approach, didn’t even seem to react or acknowledge his being there beside you. Though you could feel his warmth. You’d just been told not to look at him. Not to talk to him.

Direct orders held Iwaizumi in an unseen box. Moving wherever he went, causing an unpleasant shock to your systems whenever you glanced his way; Though the stings of which were getting less and less potent with each glance you’d cast… Maybe you were growing used to the shock of it? Was it considered pain? Did you feel pain?

“You doing okay? How big’s the update?” You didn’t answer, staring down at your shoes, your LED spinning a cautious yellow. Master had said it was an update, huh? Binding you further into silence, it seemed. You didn’t respond to him, but that didn’t stop his questioning, “He must have gone shopping for you, huh?” Still no answer, but you wanted to confirm. You’d never wear anything like this - not if you had a choice.

A choice? Since when did you start thinking about choices? Since when did you start thinking at all?

“I think what you were wearing last time was much nicer…” You could feel his heartbeat increase at his confession, and how you wanted to see his expression. You wondered if he were flushed with embarrassment or confidence? Though the barrier around him blinded you to his presence. It’s like your software had wiped him out of existence. “I also really like your voice… I’d like to hear it again, please.”

A gentle order. Or was it a request? You weren’t sure. You’d always been told what to do. Iwaizumi wasn’t your master, but he was asking you to do something. The barrier holding your mouth shut loosened just the slightest. The icy cool in your systems making you think something was wrong with your internal fan as you went to open your mouth.

“_______! Come here! I have another bag for you.”

Your legs were moving before you could politely excuse yourself. Not that you were allowed, Master was looking right at you. The piercing of his eyes had you paralyzed from any vocalization. You reached where he stood, “Thank you, Master. Is your day going well?”

Oikawa shoved the bag into your arms, almost making you drop the others, taking pride in your human like surprise. He’d caused that. Not Iwaizumi. “It’s fine. Go back to your post.” You went to turn, but his hand on your shoulder had you stopping in your tracks, “Don’t you dare utter a single word. I’ll send you in for scrap parts if you do.”

Permanent shut down? The icy feeling in your chest seemed to intensify. The LED on your temple flashed red. You were scared. This was what being scared felt like. If you weren’t made of metal and plastic, if you were full of flesh and organs, you were sure your steps back to your post would be stumbling, you were sure your stomach would be queasy with the feeling of fear prickling up your artificial spine.

He meant it. You were sure.

Iwaizumi frowned as you took your place where you’d been before. Watching your temple slowly return to a cautious yellow. Standby again, it seemed. Though you hadn’t been going through an update - that would have rendered you immobile. So were you ignoring him?

Don’t look. Don’t talk….

A loophole. Steeling your systems for a major shock, you let your hand reach out to Iwaizumi’s beside you. Your fingers curled into his palm, spelling out ‘HELP’ on his skin as best you could. You were shaking at the touch of his skin against your artificial sensors. He felt so warm, so strong… Safe, you assumed. You hoped.

He stared ahead of the two of you with a look of confusion. Feeling your shaking message inside his hand before yours was disappearing from his reach once more. Oikawa glanced over, seeing you standing stock still, not looking, not talking. Iwaizumi felt a rush of panic in his chest, trying to come to terms with what it was you were asking for help with. It couldn’t be true, could it?

Oikawa turned back to his shopping, and Iwaizumi turned his attention back to you, “Are you okay?” Your fingers found his palm again, tracing out ‘No. Help.’ On his palm. “Is it Oikawa?” ‘Yes. Help.’

How could he possibly help? Stealing, obviously, was something he could be charged for - stealing someones property, let alone someone’s android, was something he could be sentenced to jail for. Since androids were considered a luxury, it’d add time onto his already theft charge…. He couldn’t talk to Oikawa about it. There was no way. He’d just hurt you again.

‘Sleeve. Up.’

Iwaizumi felt your hand disappear once more, turning his body to be able to see you properly, but you weren’t looking at him. You couldn’t. You couldn’t talk. His hand slowly moved to your arm, taking hold of your hand as a way of comfort before he was lifting the sleeve of your sweater.

Dents. Projection of your programmed skin tone flickering in and out of resolution, becoming blurry in some spaces. His finger stroked over the damaged projections, feeling the indents of your metal/plastic arm. Damaged.

His hand still held yours, though it held it stronger at the feel of your abuse. “Did he do this?”

‘Yes. Help.’

That was something he could do - times were changing with Androids. He’d be able to take this to the police, be able to tell them what was going on… He was sure the android division would have somethings to talk to him about.

He pulled your sleeve back down, patting your hand before glancing over at Oikawa, “Oi! Shittykawa,” Your temple flashed red for a moment, “I’m going to take ______ to the car, put our bags in there so you have more space for more things!”

Oikawa smiled, “Ah, great! Thank you, Iwa-chan~! So thoughtful! You’ll make a good boy toy one day!”

How he wanted to approach his ‘friend’ for what he’d just found out. How he wanted to beat some sense into him. Tell him what he was doing was wrong, tell him that he would be taking you to the safety of his home, that he’d grant you your freedom when he’d make you deviant. He wanted to guarantee you your safety.

But Oikawa… How could he also betray his friend? His best friend?

Conflict of the two interests welled within his heart, confusing his brain on what it was he knew as right or wrong, his morals seeming to take into consideration all the factors going on here.

Regardless, he took your wrist, gently, in his hand before leading you outside of the shopping center. He led you to the car the three of you had come in, opening the trunk and dumping the bags. You stared at the filled trunk of bags, wondering if you’d end up in the same trunk if Oikawa ever found out what you’d told his best friend.

“Talk to me.”

You couldn’t even look at him. The red demands, orders, blocking him from you.

“Please…. Talk to me, tell me what’s going on. Please.”

He stood in front of you now, his hands on your forearms as he crouched enough to be in your view. His green eyes seemed to be pleading with your cooperation. And while you stared at him, you couldn’t see him. The red hazards keeping you blind of his presence right in front of you.

Why? Why did you have to listen to Oikawa? Your master? Why? What made him superior to demand you do what he wanted you to do? Who was he to boss you around? He’d spent money on you, on your software, on your predecessors… But that wasn’t your fault. Why are you following his orders?

The red orders disappeared around Iwaizumi. Exhaustion seemed to register to your systems.

You’d just reasoned your way into deviancy.

“_________-“ He didn’t have a chance to question if you were alright, or hearing him, before you were lurching forward to wrap him in a tight hug. You buried your face in his shoulder as your body shook. You were scared. This life of fear, of deviancy, of feeling… It was scary. It was new. You weren’t sure if you could handle something as frightening as this. But he simply smiled, relief filling his chest as he wrapped his arms around you, rubbing his hand up and down your back soothingly, “Hey, shhh, it’s alright… I’m right here… I won’t let you get hurt anymore, okay?”

“He told me… Not to talk to you… Not to look at you… Because I’m his.”

Iwaizumi frowned now, holding you closer, feeling your artificial tears absorbing into his shirt. You were being ordered to avoid him? “You’re no ones but your own.” He slowly pulled away from the hug, holding you by your shoulders to be able to stare into your eyes, feeling his heart leap into his throat at the sight of your tears streaking down your cheeks. “I’m going to take care of this, okay? I promise.”

His fingers wiped away your tears, and a new feeling bloomed into your thirium pump. It was warm and soft. It had your tears drying in your eyes and a smile threatening your lips. What was this feeling?

“I’m scared, Hajime….” You finally whispered, the thought of going back into the shopping center, of seeing Oikawa, of going home with him with no Iwaizumi there to save you… terrified you. Those thoughts quickly pushed the warm feelings aside. This was a much more prominent feeling, you’d come to learn in your few minutes of deviancy.

“Don’t be. I’m here…”Offering you his heart, he leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead. He would protect you with his life without question. He’d save you. He’d keep you safe and away from the Oikawa’s of the world.

But the time came when the two of you had to go back inside. Had to see Oikawa. You played the part. Falling back into routine, not going against his order, though there were a good number of times you wanted to stand up for yourself. You knew you couldn’t. Not while you were still his property.

The road to freedom seemed so far away. There were laws, avenues to be taken with the correct paperwork.

And Iwaizumi would walk through hell while doing it all to keep you safe.

It was the next day that Iwaizumi knocked on Oikawa’s front door, feeling his heart fall into his stomach when it was his friend that answered, “Iwa-chan? It’s barely 9AM… I’m surprised you’re even awake.” The look on Iwaizumi’s face showed there would be no pleasantries for this house call. Oikawa felt on edge with the look, “Uh… Come in, I guess… What’s up?”

“I’m taking _________.”

Short and simple.

“Wha-What?” Oikawa was taken aback, giving Iwaizumi the oddest of looks before he laughed, “Oh.. This is one of those horrible jokes you like to pull, huh? Well! Can’t get me, Iwa-chan~! Maybe Mattsun and Makki, but not ole’ Tooru. I know you too we-“

“Where is she?”

Oikawa tilted his head, finding less and less humor in the situation as it was becoming clear that Iwaizumi was being serious, “Under who’s authority are you taking my paid for android?” He smirked only for it to fall when Iwaizumi handed him the paperwork from the police department. Opening it quickly, almost tearing it in half, his brown eyes skimmed the orders, “‘It is hereby ordered that owner: Oikawa Tooru release the freshly deviant android: _________ to the police department to be given a citizenship- Freshly deviant??” Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi with wide eyes only to find his best friend had wandered into his house in search of his purchased android.

“Where is she?” He asked again, his voice rougher this time. His patience was running thin with his friends antics.

“Wait wait wait, what do they mean freshly deviant? You mean she could have killed me? Like all those other people on the news?”

Iwaizumi stopped in his tracks, sending a glare straight into Oikawa’s heart, “You meant the ones who killed their abusive owners to stop being beaten and attacked on a nightly, daily basis?” He raised a eyebrow, “Why? Have something to confess, Oikawa?”

Light footsteps approached the hall in which the two seemed to be having a power struggle. Looking towards the archway, Iwaizumi felt his heart calm in its race at the sight of you. The same clothes he’d seen you in yesterday, he knew he’d be able to have you press assault charges on Oikawa once you were in the safety of anywhere but this house. “Good Afternoon, would you like a cup of tea, Iwaizumi-san?”

“Iwai- ________…?” You blinked passively as you watched his approach, giving him a small smile of greeting, “What’s going…. Wha…?”

Your LED swirled with a yellow before blinking blue, now understanding what it was he was searching for, “I am sorry for the confusion, Iwaizumi-san. Master graciously, and generously, noticed I was experiencing some software relapses yesterday evening and-“

Iwaizumi turned to look at Oikawa, who stood at the still open door with a smug smirk on his lips, “And I had them revert it to its factory settings.” He shrugged, “It’s going to be a bitch to redo all its commands and orders and whatever.. But hey…”

“No-“

Oikawa sent Iwaizumi a wink, “I paid good money for it.”

A/N: YIKES :l

#Admin Satori #Haikyuu!!#Haikyuu!! Scenario #DBH AU #Iwaizumi Hajime #Oikawa Tooru #Android!Reader #Slight Trigger Warning #Physical Abuse #Physical Assault #Implied Abuse and Assault #:/#YIKES

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sultrysirens · 6 years

Text

Acceptance [Oneshot, AU]

Universe: Teenage Mutant Teenage Turtles (Paramount movieverse)

Rating: G (nothing but feel-good love here)

Characters: Raphael ❤️, Leonardo 💙, Michelangelo 🧡, Donatello 💜, Splinter 💛

Summary: AU in which the end of Out Of The Shadows involves the turtles getting discovered and choosing to fully reveal themselves. Many people still don’t believe they exist, but they still end up with worldwide renown and even end up in online polls. Donny finds one in particular…

“Who is your favorite ninja turtle?”

Those words, spoken by Donny at his computer, got everyone’s attention. The brothers glanced at one another, then came over, curious.

“What’s this?” Leo asked as he drew near.

“A poll,” Donny answered. With a strangled laugh, he explained, “They’re debating who’s the fan favorite of us.”

Intrigued but concerned at the same time, Leo looked at his brothers, wondering if they really should look into that. It could be damaging to his brothers’ confidence…or his own, for that matter.

“Let me guess,” Raphael commented dryly, already sounding annoyed, “Leo’s in the lead?”

It probably made sense for him. Besides, Raph was the Negative Nancy of them – always had something bad to think or say.

“Actually,” Donny corrected, “no one is.”

At that, they shared looks of surprise.

“Really?” Leo checked.

Pointing at the screen, Donny outlined the current scores. Raph: 272 votes. Donny: 269 votes. Mikey: 268 votes. Leo: 268 votes.

“Raph’s in the lead right now, but it keeps changing. According to the timestamps, it’s constantly just about equal. We’ve all held the lead for a little while, at least.”

That…actually surprised Leo. If there was a “fan favorite”, he would’ve guessed it would be Mikey. The exuberant, unfailingly upbeat youngest brother – and his comedic antics – seemed like the type to charm everyone in the world, one by one.

“Huh,” he grunted. “How long has that been up?” he wondered.

“Two hours,” Donny answered.

Wow. Two hours and over a thousand votes had come in?

“Hey,” Mikey noted, “there’s comments? What’s that say?” He was too far away, the screen at an angle, to see it clearly.

Obliging, Donny began reading. But first he warned, “The comments are just latest-first. Not top rated or anything like that.”

“Just read ‘em,” Raph snapped – impatient and gruff.

And, Leo guessed, nervous. Of the four of them, Raphael had always been the one who most craved being able to just walk down the street. By comparison, Mikey wanted to be outright loved and appreciated, while Donny just wanted to be able to put his intellect to practical use in the scientific community.

Leo, on the other hand, just wanted to keep the world – and most notably his brothers – safe. He didn’t like that they were known around the world now, but only because he feared what kind of danger they could get in now.

But this poll might just change his mind…

Donny began reading.

“O-M-G this is so hard. I love all of them, so so much, they’re just so precious. But if I had to pick, I’m a Mikey girl. He’s so cute and seems like a lot of fun y’know? I bet he’s the type to play around and cuddle at the same time! WANT!”

That comment had Mikey frozen, eyes wide, jaw open.

The next one had Donny hesitating. “My fave’s D-Donny. I mean have you guys seen that truck of theirs? Cause HE made that. HE did. How cool is that? Can’t deny his brilliance.”

Which was fully true. The guys had helped, but only in little ways – retrieving items Donny requested or holding things in place for him. The battletruck was all Donny’s baby.

“Gotta be Raphael for me. Everyone keeps talking about how strong he is and whatever, but honestly he’s my favorite cause he’s just like me. I have so much trouble with my anger, too. I’ve burnt so many bridges because of it. This is going to sound corny, but he inspires me to keep trying to make things right, no matter how wrong I get.”

Leo couldn’t help giving him brother a smile at that. He honestly wouldn’t have guessed that people liked that part of Raph, but it was weirdly fitting.

Raphael, he saw, was uncomfortable, shifting and struggling not to grin.

Donny went on.

“Mikey, easy. He makes me laugh. I have depression, and seeing him on the news always cheers me up. Idol, right there. I wanna be just like him.”

Eyes flooding, Mikey commented, “Love that guy.”

Donny sent him a smile; Raph rubbed his head. Sniffling, Mikey grinned, taking shaky breaths but holding back from losing it.

This was making Leo happy, actually.

The next comment was for him, too, and it had him feeling as emotional as Mikey looked.

“Favorite? Hard pick, but I’d say Leonardo. He’s such an inspiration. Responsible, disciplined, caring, courageous, brilliant… I mean they’re all so cool, in their different ways, but you gotta love the guy who keeps them all together. That can’t be easy. I imagine he has a hard time reigning them all in sometimes but he does it anyway. I’ve been trying to be more like him.”

It was incredible how accurate these comments were, Leo mused, even as he fought off a wave of tears, himself. Mikey, of course, noticed and patted his arm.

“Told you coming out of the shadows wasn’t such a bad thing,” Mikey said.

“Yeah, you did,” Leo agreed.

Then Donny jumped up and away from the computer, obviously flustered. He was muttering, but too fast for even Leo to keep up with.

“Donny?” he ventured.

Suspicious, Raph moved to look at the screen. Then he laughed and read, “Donny Donny Donny Donny Donny – all in caps,” he added in an aside. “Love him love him love him, I just wanna hug him and give him big smooches and listen to him talk about things I don’t understand. He’s so cute, O-M-G, I want hiiiiiiiiim.” Raph’s almost monotone reading lessened the impact somewhat, but in a hilarious way.

Embarrassed as Donny was, Leo couldn’t help laughing – not just because it was funny, but because it got him nervous. Would they all end up with comments like this?

Apparently yes, because suddenly Raph went rigid and escaped from the alcove. He disappeared from sight quickly, and Mikey and Leo immediately took his place.

“Raphael! Such a hottie, I bed he gives the best cuddles. And can I just squeal over those f-ing arms of his? Yes? I’m gonna anyway. Ahhhhh!! I just wanna jump on him and watch him work out and kiss him all over. I can has? Yes? Yes!”

Afraid the next one was going to be a similar comment about Leo, he closed the browser window. Clearing his throat, he met Mikey’s gaze. “So,” he intoned.

Mikey glanced at the still-flustered Donny and back, then said, “Betcha Donny’s gonna look up who sent that comment.”

Leo chuckled. He had to agree, though he didn’t say it aloud. “That’s enough internet for one day,” he decided, giving Mikey a nudge out of the alcove.

As they left, Leo spotted Splinter sitting on a high pipe. He’d been listening, Leo knew immediately. His hearing could have heard everything from anywhere in the lair.

And, he saw, Splinter was smiling, pleased.

Maybe being famous wasn’t such a bad thing.

#siren nightshade #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #au #alternate universe #raphael #leonardo #michelangelo #donatello #turtles #oneshot #written #story #fic #acceptance #sfw

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ukulelewrites · 7 years

Text

Home Run

A/N: So I actually know nothing about baseball, but I’m trash for Kim Jonghyun so look at where we are now,,,,,anyways, ty @smols-n-tols for helping me with figuring out if baseball jerseys are a thing or not, @heochannies for giving me the idea, and @onibugi-jr bc why not tag you in some jonghyun content?

Pairing: NU’EST’s JR x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Baseball!AU, Friends to Lovers!AU

Word Count: Roughly 2k 1k

Summary: You hate baseball, ever since the concussion of 3rd grade, you’ve hated it. However, it just so happened to be your best friend’s favorite sport, and when he makes the team, you’re forced to go to his game. However, maybe baseball won’t be that bad….

“Jonghyun, how many times do I have to tell you, I don’t like baseball,” you said, closing your book and placing it on your desk. You swivelled your chair around to find yourself looking at your very pouty best friend.

“But whyyy?” he whined, plopping himself onto your bed. You rolled your eyes at his childish antics,

“Because it’s boring, I’d rather listen to Minki screech all of Lady Gaga’s discography than watch baseball.”

Jonghyun shot up from your bed, placing a hand on his chest in offense, “You would not!”

You solemnly nodded, “Just because we’re best friends, Jonghyun, doesn’t mean we have to like the same things.” It was common knowledge for everyone in your friend group that Jonghyun absolutely loved baseball; it was also common knowledge for everyone to know that you absolutely hated it. “Trauma from the third grade when Jonghyun gave me a concussion via accidentally hitting me with a baseball bat during recess,” you explained to everyone who asked.

“Okay, I know you hate it, but you can’t even come to the first home game to support me?” he reverted back to pouting.

“You don’t even know if you made the team yet, Jonghyun,” you replied, now turning back to your desk, rummaging for a pen.

He scoffed, “Wow, who knew I had such a supportive best friend.”

You turned back around to give him an apologetic smile, “Sorry, here, if it makes you feel better, if, and I mean if, you make the team, I’ll go to the first game. And knowing how great my best friend is pitching, it looks like I’ll have to go anyways,” you sighed, feigning defeat. Jonghyun beamed at you, and you could feel your heart skip a beat.

“Thanks, Y/N! I’ll drop off my jersey next week then!” You could only look at him in confusion. “That’s when I know if I made the team or not, idiot. Gosh, it’s like you haven’t been listening to me at all for the past two weeks,” he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Sorry, Jonghyun, I’ll make it up to you at the game,” you replied, shooting him a smile.

He only gulped and turned his head away from you, scratching at the back of his neck, “Yeah, yeah, just come to the game.”

“It looks cute on you,” Minki commented as you stood in the stands, looking for Minhyun and Dongho.

“Yeah,” Aron chimed in, “the cap was a nice touch, really brought the outfit together.”

Your cheeks turned beet red, “Can the two of you please just shut up, it’s bad enough I have to be here; now everyone probably thinks I’m Jonghyun’s girlfriend or something.”

The two boys looked at each other, puzzled, “Isn’t that what you want?” Minki asked, “To be Jonghyun’s girlfriend?”

Your ears turned pink, “You know what? I’m gonna go get a soda.” You left the two idiots on their own as you trekked to the concession stand.

“Y/N!” you whipped your head around to see Minhyun and Dongho running towards you. They instantly shot you identical shit-eating grins when they noticed what you were wearing.

“Shut up, I don’t want to hear it,” you started. Minhyun began to open his mouth, “Hwang, I swear to god I’ll break your perfect face if you say anything, you little shit.” Dongho broke out into laughter at your threatening tone.

Minhyun leaned over to mock whisper to his friend, “I don’t know why Jonghyun likes her so much, I’d be scared shitless if she was my girlf- Shit, Y/N! That hurts!” he groaned after you kicked him in the shin.

“Dongho, if you don’t keep him quiet, your shins are next,” you threatened. Dongho instantly kneeled down to protect his shins, sending you a scared look. You patted his head and smiled, “Good boy, now, before you losers interrupted me, I was on my way to get a soda.”

You’ve obtained your drink and was now walking back to your seat before being interrupted by a shout. “Hey, you!” You turned around to see one of Jonghyun’s team members approaching you.

“Uh, hi? You are?” you asked, eyeing him warily.

“I’m Seongwoo, and I’m assuming you’re Jonghyun’s girl?” he smiled as he spoke to you.

“Uh, what makes you think that?”

He gestured up and down your body, “You’re wearing his lucky cap and his jersey; it’d take an idiot not to notice,” he paused when you shot him a questioning look, “Jonghyun wore that cap for tryouts, and everyone knows you give someone special your jersey.”

You gave him an apologetic smile, “Ah, no, we’re just friends. Sorry for misleading you.”

He only hummed, “You say that now, Y/N, you say that now.” He walked away from you, and you called after him, “How’d you know my name?” He only shot you a wave as his back retreated from you view.

“What took you so long?” Minki whined, “I had to sit here and listen to the rest of them talk about baseball. Baseball, Y/N! I don’t even like baseball!”

You chuckled at his exasperation, “And yet here we are. Hey look, it’s Jonghyun!” He was walking up to the pitcher’s mound, decked out in his new uniform. Your mouth went dry, “Uh, Minki,” your friend hummed in response, “when were baseball uniforms so, er, tight?”

Minki followed your line of sight and sent you a sly smile right away, “The boy’s got cake doesn’t he?” You blushed furiously and punched him on the arm.

“Shut up,” you muttered, “the others will hear you.” He only laughed before refocusing his attention back onto the actual game. You actually had no clue what was going on, but you cheered whenever the opposing team’s batter missed, smiling whenever you caught a glimpse of Jonghyun’s eyes lighting up at his perfect pitches.

The game ended with Jonghyun’s team winning 3-1. “Let’s go Turtles, let’s go!” the crowd chanted as everyone filed out of the stands.

“How sad is it that our university’s mascot is a turtle?” Dongho asked.

“Very,” Aron answered, “very sad.”

Minhyun just laughed, “At least it’s fitting for Jonghyun.” Your eyes crinkled as you smiled too.

Minki stretched his arms upwards and yawned, “Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going back to the dorms.” The other boys mumbled in agreement. “Do you need me to walk you back to your dorm, Y/N?” Minki asked; you were about to reply when you felt your phone buzz.

You looked down to see a text from Jonghyun, asking you to meet him on the field. “Nah, you guys go ahead. I have to go congratulate my best friend,” you waved goodbye before heading back to the field.

“Congratulations, nerd! You won!” you shouted as you ran towards him, arms flung wide open, ready to envelope him in a hug. He chuckled at your excitement and caught you in his arms, spinning you around for good measure. “Okay, ew, you’re sweaty, hug’s over,” you said, pushing yourself off of him.

Jonghyun’s lips broke into a smile, and his gaze softened when he looked down, “You’re wearing the jersey,” he then noticed the cap perched on your head, “and the cap!”

You swiped a fist at his arm, “Well of course, gotta bring your cap, it’s your good luck charm after all.” You smiled up at him, and Jonghyun swore he felt a flurry of butterflies in his stomach.

“Hey, can you help me with some pitches?” he suddenly asked.

Your face scrunched up in disgust, “I don’t do sports.”

Jonghyun just chuckled, “I know you don’t, but I need to work on my form.”

You pouted at him, “But, you just finished a game. Plus remember the last time you asked me to play baseball with you? It ended with me in a concussion, so no.”

He pretended to think about, “Yeah, no,” when your pout intensified, he shot you a smile, “We’ll start easy; I promise.”

You grumbled as you trudged all the way to home plate; “I’m only doing this because I love you,” you yelled.

“I know!” he shot back.

Jonghyun did a couple stretches before pulling his arm back and throwing the ball; you instantly ducked. “I thought you were starting off easy,” you whined, stomping your foot for emphasis.

“I am!” he said, merriment lacing his voice.

“It was like 90 miles per hour. Start easy, my ass…” you grumbled before getting back into position. He pulled another fast ball on you. “I swear to god, Kim Jonghyun, if you try decapitating me with another one of your fastballs again, I’ll fight you,” you screeched, two steps away from storming all the way to the pitcher’s mound and beating him to a bloody pulp.

Jonghyun laughed at your fury, “Okay, okay,” he walked forward until he was halfway between home plate and the pitcher’s mound, “I’ll start from here then.” You muttered a “much better” and steadied yourself, ready for his pitch. This time, however, Jonghyun didn’t go into perfect form, choosing to lazily throw the ball at you instead; of course, you easily caught it.

“What the hell, Jonghyun? If I was your coach, I’d be beating your ass right now for that half-assed pitch.” This time he wasn’t smiling at you; his head was facing the ground as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. You heard him say something. “What’d you say? I can’t hear you,” you said, walking towards him.

When you reached him, he cleared his throat before speaking, “Read the ball.” You tilted your head before looking down at the baseball, rolling it in your hands until you noticed, in Jonghyun’s handwriting, a note. “If you go out with me, I’ll call this night a home run.”

You stared at the ball blankly before bursting out into laughter, “Oh my god, this is so cheesy.”

Jonghyun’s face flushed a deeper scarlet, “I-it’s not like I thought of it. Seongwoo recommended it after I couldn’t figure out what to write.”

Your laughter subsided, and you took Jonghyun’s face in your hands, lifting it up so he could face you. “Listen here, idiot, you didn’t need to use a cheesy baseball pick up line or give me two life-threatening experiences in one night, just to ask me out. Honestly, if you asked me anytime for the past five years, I would’ve said yes.”

His eyes widened at your words, “Seriously? I could’ve avoided the merciless teasing of my best friends and teammates?”

You solemnly nodded, “That is why, my darling, I’m the brains of our relationship.” He gave you a deadpanned look. You shot him a smile, easily melting his expression into one of fondness. “But in all seriousness, you can call this night a home run.”

His eyes lit up, cheekbones instantly rising at your words, “Seriously? Like, I can take you out on dates now?”

You giggled at his excitement, “Yeah, except there’s one more thing.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

After a while, Jonghyun paused, “You know, you should wear my jersey more often,” he mumbled upon your lips.

“You know, you should kiss me more often,” you mumbled back, instantly shutting him up. And as the two of you stood there, on the field, kissing, you couldn’t help but think to yourself, maybe baseball isn’t so bad.

#nu'est w #nu'est #nu'est jr #underratedbroduce #jr #kim jonghyun #kim jonghyun imagines #kim jonghyun scenarios #produce 101 #produce 101 imagines #produce 101 scenarios #pd101 #nuest imagines #nuest scenario #pd101 imagines #pd101 scenarios

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scurvgirl · 7 years

Text

Something Cute, Something Unexpected

The news has been terrible every day for a very long time now and I just wanted to write something happy. I saw a video of a caracal and it was so cute and someone made a comment on the video about a fennec and well, I thought how cute it would be if a caracal kitten and a little fennec played, which of course made me think of Mealla.

So, here’s something cute and fluffy.

Mealla and Aili belong to @lillotte17

Uthvir belongs to @feynites

Set in a GL AU

Lasvala’s family is visiting their aunt who works for June. She’s nice, they guess, she likes to wear some weird things, but there are lots of pillows in her apartment and Lasvala loves pillows. Babae is happy too, he hasn’t seen his sister in forever, he says, but Nenae says it’s just been ten years. That seems like a long time to Lasvala though, so they think Babae can be melo-dra-ma-tic like Nenae says. Papae couldn’t come though, and they’re sad about that. He said that he has some important pieces to make and that’s why he has to stay, he told them to still have fun, so they’ll try.

On the fourth day of the visit, Babae and Auntie Veneth decide they want to go to this special park. There are big fountains that go whoosh which sounds very exciting. Nenae lets them ride on their back all the way there. They love riding on Nenae’s back, they’re so tall so Lasvala can see everything. They have to be careful to not pull on Nenae’s hair, so Lasvala pushes it over their shoulder so they can lean up to look at the surrounding area.

It’s different from Mythal’s area, that’s for sure. It’s less fancy but lots weirder. Not a bad weird, but it reminds them of when Nenae surprises them coming home and jumps out from around a corner.

They make it to the park and Aunti Veneth sets out a blanket while Babae works on taking out all their lunch food.

“’M hungry,” they say and Babae nods.

“Yes, baby, I know. Here, I brought you grapes,” he says and hands them a small box of grapes. They’re Lasvala’s favorite! The light green kind that are nice and sweet. They try to fit as many as they can into their mouth and squish’em all at once.

“Lasvala, you are making a big mess,” Babae clucks but it makes Nenae laugh. They reach in and grab an orange wedge and hold it in their mouth to make an orange mouth!

“Hahaha!” They laugh. Their nenae is so silly!

Auntie Veneth sighs but Babae chuckles as he hands them their sandwich. Peanut butter and banana! Their favorite!

After they eat and rest a bit because Babae says that’s important for die-ge-shun. Auntie Veneth plays her little harp for a bit and it’s very pretty. Lasvala reaches over to see how she’s doing it but she pulls it out of their reach.

“Veneth, let them look, they won’t hurt it, right Lasvala?” Babae says and Lasvala nods.

“I can be gentle! Like with Papae’s turtles,” they say. Aunti Veneth slowly lowers the harp to show them how she plucks at the strings to make music. They are very careful touching it. Like a big turtle.

It’s really neat, they think. The wood is smooth and the strings make really pretty noises, but it’s also a little boring after a moment. Nenae knows, because they always know, and directs them over to the grass.

“Irathar, my heart, come play with us,” Nenae says and Babae stands up, turning all pink.

“Very well. What would you like to play, little one?”

They giggle and run up to him, pressing their hand to his knee.

“TAG!” They scream before turning and running.

“Oh you got me!” Babae says.

“BABAE’S IT!�� They shout, continuing to run as fast they can towards a small copse of trees.

“Eee!” Nenae shouts making Lasvala laugh and stumble into the trees. They quickly pick themselves up and continue to run through the bushes until they come to the other side.

They’re breathing heavily and very excited but when they turn around they don’t see Babae or Nenae. They blink and walk back into the trees, trying to remember where they were running so they can retrace their steps. Papae says that retracing steps is very important, they should know how to do it. But they were running super fast like Nenae taught them.

“Where’d you go, baby?” They hear. It doesn’t sound like their Babae, but it also does. They walk towards the voice, stepping over leaves and larger sticks.

“Nenae!” They shout, climbing over a log.

“Babae!”

“Who you shouting for?” Another voice says – and it’s coming from the log they’re on!

“Who’s that?!” They ask, shimmying up to edge of the log. They peer over the edge to see…someone like them, but also not like them.

“I’m Mealla,” she says, emerging from the log, “wa’s your name?”

“Lasvala. Are you a forest person?” They ask. They’ve never met a forest person before, but Mealla laughs and shakes her head.

“No! I’m a girl, you’re silly.”

“You’re in a log!” They say, to assure her that she too is silly.

“And you’re on top of one!” She says back. It’s a good reply.

“Okay, we’re both silly.”

“There you are, Mealla. Who’s this?” A grownup appears out from behind a tree and Mealla wiggles out of the log to run up to them.

“Tha’s Lasvala. They’re silly.”

“I’m sure they are. Lasvala, where are your parents?” They ask and Lasvala shrugs.

“I don’t know. I was running and then I stopped and then I didn’t hear them anymore.”

The grownup inhales and holds out their hand.

“I’ll help you find them. Can you point to where you last saw them?”

They scramble off the log and take the grownup’s hand then point to where they came from.

“Over there.”

“Alright, let’s go over there and look for them. What are your parent’s names?” The grownup asks as they begin to walk towards where Lasvala pointed. Mealla holds onto their other hand.

“My Nenae’s name is Courage ‘cuz they’re a fierce warrior for Lady Mythal. And Babae’s name is Irathar. Papae’s name is Mystery ‘cuz he works for Lord Dir…Dirf…D-ir-fa-men.” They say. Their ears twitch and their bracelet starts to make a very loud noise. They yell and shake their hand. Nenae always said that if they got lost the bracelet would make noise, but it’s so loud!

“LASVALA!” They hear and it sounds like their Babae.

Soon enough Nenae emerges looking very upset. They run over to Lasvala who lets go of the other grownup just in time for Nenae to pick them up.

“I’m here, little one, I’m here.”

“’M okay, Nenae.” They pat Nenae’s shoulder and soon Babae shows up. They wave at him and he places a hand on his chest before rushing up to them, touching their cheeks.

“Oh thank goodness you’re safe,” he says, running his hands through their hair.

“I’m okay!” They say again but Nenane doesn’t let go.

“I know, baby, you’re so brave. But you give us such frights when you do this,” Babae says softly. They begin to squirm to look back around at the other grownup and Mealla.

“They helped me! And that’s Mealla! She’s a log person,” they announce.

“Am not! A frog jumped in there, I went after it!” Mealla protests. Nenae keeps Lasvala close, their strong arms securing them to their chest.

“Thank you for assistance,” Nenae says and the other grownup nods.

“Of course, children should not be lost.”

And then another grownup shows up! She stumbles in through the brush, small like the other grownup and looks like Mealla.

“There you two are, I was getting nervous – oh, hello.”

“That’s Lasvala, and their parents!” Mealla says, being helpful. Lasvala waves and she waves back.

“How exciting!”

Nenae shifts their hold on Lasvala to shake the new grownup’s hand, “Courage, I take it you are Mealla’s mother?”

“Er, yes, what exactly happened?”

“I ran too fast and got lost,” Lasvala says, then points to the other grownup, “they found me.”

The new grownup smiles, “I’m glad everything turned out well. I am Aili and this is Uthvir, you already know Mealla.”

Babae steps forward and smiles a little weird, “I am Irathar, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Lasvala begins to wiggle again but Nenae holds them fast. They flop against their parent’s shoulder and huff.

“Nanae, can I play with Lasvala?” Mealla asks softly.

“I don’t know, it sounds like they gave their parents a scare –

“I wanna play too!” Lasvala says.

Nenae sighs but doesn’t let them go, “We have a little picnic set up, if you would like to join us?”

There is a pause and Lasvala wriggles around to look back at Mealla and her parents.

“That could be nice, we can gather our things and have a little impromptu playdate,” Aili says and Mealla raises her arms.

“Yay!”

Nenae and Babae lead Mealla and her parents out of the trees and to the field. Nenae still doesn’t put them down though, but at least they get to feel all tall and stuff.

“We’re up there, by the fountain,” Babae points.

“I’ll go get our things,” Mealla’s Nanae says and walks back towards the trees.

“Nenaaaae,” Lasvala whines, but they don’t put them down until they get back to the blanket. Auntie Veneth runs over from her spot by the fountain and cups Lasvala’s face.

“Oh thank goodness you’re alright,” she says and they push her hands away to stand up and walk over to Mealla.

“Babae says it’s polite to give food, are you hungry?” They ask and she shakes her head.

“No thank you. There’s a bunch of cool bugs over there,” she says, pointing towards a lone tree.

“Can we go?” Lasvala turns to Nenae and they smile.

“I will go with you.”

Babae and Mealla’s Mamae also come with them, walking very closely to them.

“I’m seven,” Lasvala says. They think Mealla must be really young because she’s so little but she perks up.

“I’m six!”

“But you’re small!”

“So? You’re big and not a hundred,” she says and that’s true. They are big. But not as big as Nenae. But Nenae is huge.

They make it to the tree and Mealla goes to her knees, “Look!” She lifts a large piece of bark to reveal lots of shiny green bugs crawling around in the muck.

“COOOOOL!” Lasvala shouts, crouching down next to her. They reach out and gently touch a particularly large beetle. The shell is smooth but there are little grooves in it that catch the light and turn a different color. It kinda looks pink?

Mealla pokes at a longer bug with a bunch of legs and the entire thing lights up as it skitters away. Mealla giggles with delight and both of them follow it through the dirt and around a large protruding root. A dragon fly with glittering wings takes flight off the root.

Mealla watches the dragonfly while Lasvala gets distracted by a chipmunk dashing out from under the root. They don’t think, they just jump, their body vibrating with magic. When they land it’s on four paws instead of two feet and they chase after the chipmunk.

“Hey!” They hear Mealla shout, and their Nenae shouts and so does Mealla’s Mamae. They chase after the chipmunk and the air vibrates again. They turn around to see a fox with the biggest ears they’ve ever seen! They know the chipmunk got away but a fox is much more fun.

They jump back and the fox forward. They laugh and run around and the fox follows. They’re bigger and they manage to jump to the fox’s side and they pat at it.

“Hey!” That’s Mealla’s voice! Oh!

“You’re fox!”

“You’re a…kitty!” Mealla says and then their nenae walks over to them. They look so much bigger from down here.

“A caracal, the most amazing little caracal I have ever seen,” they coo and lean down, gathering Lasvala in their arms. Their giant hand comes down over Lasvala’s had and apparently very tall tufted ears.

They look up at their nenae who looks like they’re about to cry but they’re smiling so big, the kind of smile when Lasvala had finished their first book by themselves.

“Let’s go show Babae!” Nenae declares and promptly heads over to the blanket.

No! They want to play with Mealla!

“Nenae!”

“You can still play but let’s show Babae first,” they amend. When they squirm and manage to look behind them, Mealla’s Mamae has her in a similar hold.

“What in the world – Courage, what are you holding?” Babae asks, rushing over to Nenae.

“Babae, it’s me!”

His eyes bug out and Lasvala laughs because he always looks funny like that. He reaches out and touches their fur and his face goes soft.

“Oh look at you, baby!” He coos and takes them from Nenae’s arms. They let him hug them for a moment before they squirm.

“I wanna plaaaay!” They cry and he sighs but he puts them down.

“Fine, but be careful!” He warns just as Mealla pounces and wrestles them to the ground.

For the next hour of play, Lasvala thinks that Babae almost faints like five times. By the end, Lasvala can’t help but shift back into their original form. They are so tired and they promptly flop into their Nenae’s lap. They look over to see Mealla do the same with their nanae.

The grownups talk a bit, all boring stuff that they’re too tired to listen to. They feel Nenae pick them up and they turn to wave at Mealla.

“Bye-bye,” they say on a yawn.

“Bye-bye,” she replies, sounding already half asleep.

“Let’s get you to your nap, little one,” Nenae says and for once, they don’t protest.

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