Tumgik
#I finally got my block list to a point where I can scroll through the dr tag without seeing too much bad shit and it would be all undone 😔
chisatowo ¡ 3 years
Text
Oh no pls don't let this mean more people are gonna get into dr again I'm not strong enough-
6 notes ¡ View notes
tittyblade ¡ 3 years
Text
tumblr etiquette 101
a list that is nowhere near exhaustive, from yours truly.
First off, welcome! Whether you’re a twitter veteran looking for anything but whatever twitter is, or a new user just done signing up, glad to see you in our ranks beloveds! Welcome home. Refer to this quick tour to make sure your fandom experience (or tumblr experience in general) is a positive one!
Disclaimer: I know it’s long, but please try to read or skim through til the end if you’re new here! This is by no means meant to be a rule book (for the most part lol), only a guide to help you get settled easier!
1) Your blog
This is where people will see and interact with you, so put some effort into it!
Try to choose a name (url) that’s simple. You can see it as your brand, it’s how people will perceive you and remember you. If you’d like to interact with other users here (and not use the site just for the content) it’s better to have something short and sweet, preferably without spaces. (Of course, these are only suggestions.) Rest assured, you can change it literally any time you want.
Have a theme. Utilize the tool that lets you edit your blog’s color or the font of your bio! You can make it match your profile picture, or your blog if it has a theme of its own. Make it feel homey :]
Fill in your bio. People will be checking out your profile probably more often than you think. Don’t leave it empty! Put in any information you’re comfortable with sharing and isn’t too personal (like your age if you’re a minor, or other TMI that can be found on other people’s carrds). It’s always better to add a name/nickname people can use to refer to you by, but feel free to use your blog description to shitpost still.
You can have an intro post. More often than not, you’ll see a blog have a pinned post, a post permanently appearing at the top of a blog until you pin another post or unpin it. You can make one of those, if you’d like to introduce yourself in more length, link any other socials or a carrd, and show others visiting your blog how you tag things so it’ll be easy for them to navigate. Not an obligation.
Keep your anonymity and your safety. It should go without saying, but there’s no harm in repeating it just in case. Your comfort, privacy and safety has the utmost importance. Don’t share any information you don’t want to. Don’t share your age if you’re a minor, or any other incredibly personal info. I’d encourage you to go by a nickname that’s not your real name, (blog name, your brand, remember?) since there’s safety in anonymity, and that’s lowkey one of the big deals of tumblr, but that’s up to you still.
Choose what you want to be visible. Your liked posts and who you follow are all things you can set to keep to yourself and hide from the publics eye, how handy! You should go through all the setting while you’re at it, set it to your comfort.
Side blogs are a thing. You can have multiple blogs that you can use for different things (see: different fandoms, art blog, etc) to keep them organized or away from your followers. Just remember that the replies and off-anon asks you send will be from your main blog, as well as where you follow other blogs from.
2) Interacting with others
You’ve set up your account, now comes the fun part!
Follow to your heart’s desire. If you care about others seeing who you follow, fear not! In tumblr, usually only two types of blogs keep their following visible to others: newbies, and big blogs using it to point people on other good blogs’ direction. Just turn it off, and go ham following people.
Customize your dashboard. Gonna mention just two things here: this is another reason why it’s really important that you follow blogs without sparing, your dash will collect dust otherwise; and you should turn off “best stuff first” in your dashboard settings, to have a better community here and all.
Follow tags. You can set it in your settings that posts with your followed tags appear on your dashboard.
You can check the og post for edits and context. When you see a reblogged post you don’t understand the context of (or don’t recognize the character in case of fanarts), click on the profile so it will take you to the original post. From there you can check the original poster’s tags to get the context, or see if there have been any edits made to the post, since when you edit a post it doesn’t update any past reblogs.
Send people asks... This is how you make mutuals, people! Do it off-anon if you’d like them to know your blog, or anon if you’d rather not! (You can still end your messages with a signature to show you’re the same person, -[name] is one example.) Send them nice messages, ask their opinion on something, discuss things, or just straight up shitpost lol. Go wild. The sky’s your limit and it’s definitely more than 280 characters.
...and let them ask you! You can set your preference in the settings, do it on desktop tumblr to access more settings tho! What you can customize on mobile is limited (like letting people ask you things anonymously, that’s only on desktop settings). In my personal opinion, it’s always better to tag their username (or a nickname you give them, if they’re a friend) on that post, since you wouldn’t want your interactions with your friends to get buried in your blog forever.
Comment on posts. If you have something to say but don’t want the post to appear on your blog you can add a comment. The owner of the post will get a notif for it, but for anyone else you need to tag them.
For the love of god, reblog. People will only see your liked posts if you have it visible to public and they specifically go on your blog to look at them. You like something? You reblog. It’s already hard for posts to circulate properly, if you don’t reblog them literally no one will see them. If not for anything do it for the artists. Just hold and drag on mobile to fast rb.
3) Your Posts
Finally here! Don’t be a lurker, post and engage!
Make use of “read more”. If your post is long, add it. That’s what you clicked on earlier to expand this post. On desktop leave an empty line and you’ll see three dots appear, and on mobile type :readmore: on that empty line.
Draft a post to come back to it later. Pretty self explanatory.
Queue your post. Whether it’s your own post or you’re reblogging, make use of the queue feature to a) not spam reblog and fill up the dashboard of people following you and b) keep your blog active while you’re gone. Mess around in the settings, it’s fairly easy to set up.
Schedule your post. Same as queueing, the only difference is you get to choose the exact time your post will go up. Handy if you want to schedule a post for certain dates like april fools, or 5 years in the future for some reason. 
Format your texts. You can do all kinds of fancy stuff here (that’s a link, try pressing on it). Twitter doesn’t have this, make use of it. Changes depending on whether you’re on mobile or desktop. (Desktop has less features.)
Check your stats. If you’re trying to understand the algorithm better or want to look at some pretty graphs you can get your data on that on desktop tumblr.
@ people in comments. You’ll get all the notifs when people comment on your posts but they won’t see your reply unless you tag them in your message.
4) Tags, and tagging a post
This is where my earlier statement “this isn’t a rule book” stops being applicable. It’s not a war crime to go against these, I won’t come chasing you (don’t take my word for this) but you’ll work up a bad rep. Just saying lol.
Do NOT crosstag posts. It’s really tempting to add unrelated tags to increase your posts’ interaction, I know, but that’s not what tumblr is about. Don’t be a dick and make other communities’ experience worse for them.
Always tag your posts with “crit/critical/discourse/etc” if it calls for it. There’s no exceptions to it. This is the reason you see people migrating to tumblr. Let people enjoy things.
Don’t main tag a critical/negative post. If your crit post is about “Thing”, you add the “Thing critical” tag, but not the “Thing” tag. People block crit tags if they don’t want to see it, don’t shove it in their faces by main tagging it. 
If you don’t want to see something, just block it. Another reason why people are able to survive on tumblr. You don’t start discourse, you don’t make call-outs, you block. You can find something for every community you can think of if you go looking for it. The worst of the worst probably won’t ever appear on your dash, but if you’re worried or feel the need for it, you know where the block button is.
Feel free to shitpost or ramble. More often than not you’ll see people rb a post with a comment, and their elaboration will be in the tags. The tags are only visible on your profile and the notifications of the owner of the og blog. Just a thing people do.
Reblog artists’ posts with nice comments in the tags! Commenting on a drawing is usually done through the tags (Not an obligation, again, just a thing people do. Feel free to add your comment on the rb itself if you’d want other people to see it tho!) and leave nice messages for the artists! It’s a win-win for everyone involved. 
If you have more than a single follower, always use the common tw warning tags. You don’t need to tw everything, but tw’ing some common things is the bare minimum human decency. Keep it safe for others. 
Tag a post “long post” if it’s really long. Pretty self explanatory. Don’t make people scroll through all that please lol. 
You can use them to organize your blog. This is more of a pro tip, if you’d like to not miss a post in your blog, cause they will start pilin’ up soon enough.
#Liveblogging is pretty fun. If you’d like to talk to people during streams, don’t forget to add the relevant tags still! Again, you won’t show up on people’s dash otherwise.
Whew! That got out of hand. Hopefully I didn’t bore you too much. Check out blogs like @heritageposts and @hellsite-hall-of-fame to honor our past o7. @mcytblr-hall-of-fame too maybe :eyes:. Anyways, don’t forget the most important rule of them all:
Enjoy your stay! You’re meant to have fun on here while also making friends (if that’s your thing). Just be kind and respectful of others, you’ll get the hang of the rest! <3
2K notes ¡ View notes
koolfrogz ¡ 3 years
Text
Misconceptions Regarding MCC14
Recently there have been a load of misconceptions regarding many of the controversies that happened this MCC, especially on Twitter and Tiktok, so I thought I would make a giant post detailing these and why they are wrong so I can scroll through my dash in peace.
1. Hbomb purposely abused a glitch in HITW that got Illumina and Mefs banned from MCC on the practice server. 
This one can easily be broken down into three components: 1. Misinformation about the glitch itself 2. Misinformation about the Mefs and Illumina incident 3. When does abusing a glitch count as cheating?
Firstly, the glitch Hbomb used is actually very common in HITW and has been around since the game was first introduced. The devs know about it and have not made any complaints about it because the usage of the glitch itself is heavily luck based (depending on the ping of the player) and does not guarantee a win to any player who does get it. Take for example PearlescentMoon who has used the glitch repeatedly throughout many competitions (i.e MCC 11), yet has not gained any significant advantage through it because, again, there is still an element of skill required to use it. This glitch is not only known by the devs, but has been used before in HITW. It is not something new that Hbomb exploited as a means of getting ahead.
Secondly, the Illumina and Mefs situation is not at all comparable to the Hbomb one. Illumina and Mefs were using a completely different glitch which did guarantee a win to the player because it allowed the player to afk on the platform and allow the blocks to pass through them. They were not banned for exploiting this glitch, but rather reprimanded by Scott and the devs for not reporting it to them sooner. Mefs and Illumina are still allowed in MCC and only didn’t compete this time because the teams had already been formed.
Finally, in regards to the idea of cheating itself when using such a glitch, the idea that what Hbomb did counts as cheating is absurd considering past MCCs and the various glitches which have been abused as well. I’ve seen a lot of people mention the infamous Wilbur Glitch and I think its a perfect example. The Wilbur Glitch is from the game Rocket Spleef which was not played this MCC but certainly will be in the future. The glitch involves the player becoming stuck in a block and seemingly floating in the air allowing them to basically secure a win without admin intervention. This glitch is much more OP than the glitch Hbomb used, and we have even seen admins purposefully try to kill players for using it (i.e Philza MCC11). However, even when players have purposefully attempted to get it (Wilbur, Phil, Quackity, etc.), I have never seen the fandom react so negatively as to accuse them of cheating. It is not fair to accuse Hbomb of cheating when he abuses a glitch which has been in the game for ages and not do the same with your favourite creators who do a much more busted glitch as well. Personally, I don’t consider either of these cheating, but that’s my opinion.
2. They removed Parkour Warrior because Dream was too good. That’s not fair.
Okay, this one is very simple as its just not true. This falls under the assumption that Dream was the only player to finish Parkour Warrior which is not true (PeteZahHutt completed the course twice and was the first to ever complete it in MCC 6). While the reason the Parkour Warrior map was destroyed in MCC 11 is said to be that EpicLandlord destroyed it because “he was annoyed at how good Dream was at it”, this is mainly a joke (think of the Ranboo being banned from MCC situation, while Ranboo isn’t in MCC there’s no actual beef and he’s not actually banned.) Secondly, if you weren’t around for Parkour Warrior when it was still in MCC, or have only ever seen Dream or Pete’s POV, you might not know, but Parkour Warrior was a miserable game mode (think Build Mart/Bingo but ten times worse because there was no chance to improve your placement other than just being good at Parkour). The game was 10 minutes of pure rage and frustration from competitors, which while entertaining at times, wasn’t the best for content when only two POVs in the entire competition were deemed watchable. This also wasn’t good for a competition because it meant that only two teams at most were progressing (and by a large amount) due to one player while the rest lagged behind. It gave the teams which had Pete and Dream a huge advantage and made the game unfun and unfair to everyone else, so they revamped the game (to Parkour Tag) to make it an even playing field where everyone had a chance to win (in the spirit of MCC). 
3. Scott had an unfair advantage in the competition and should be removed from the Dev Team or the Participants List.
This one is slightly more nuanced and may not have a definitive answer. Yes, Scott does have a slight advantage due to being a part of the dev team in every MCC. However, this MCC was definitely an outlier in that fact. Scott has been known to share info and tips with his teammates in past MCCs, but it has not truly impacted their performance on a significant level because the players knew a majority of the information anyways (the game rules, maps, etc). This MCC was unfair because Scott had a bigger advantage than originally assumed (it doesn’t mean he did it with malicious intent, it just means there was a severe oversight when designing the maps and explaining the rules to players). Also, the idea that Scott was guaranteed a win because he was part of the Dev Team is ridiculous and untrue. 
Scott has always been treated on the same level as any other player and has not been giving special privileges because he helped work on the tournament. Take for example MCC 8. Scott was teamed with Tommy, Philza, and Wilbur, and they were doing very well! Then came (wait for it), Ace Race. Scott experienced a glitch which allowed him to remain with his Elytra activated for half the course and allowed him to skip over multiple checkpoints and placed him in first. However, by skipping over these checkpoints the game corrected his placement and put him in last. This was seen as not fair at the time and the Red Rabbits did complain, to which Noxite responded that there was nothing they could do and Scott would just have to finish the round as normal. This glitch severely impacted the Red Rabbits standings and possibly led to them not being able to compete in Dodgebolt that MCC. Yet, Scott was never treated differently than any other player throughout the glitch despite being a part of the Dev Team.
For the next MCC, I certainly think that Scott should be allowed to play as normal. I truly believe this MCC was a fluke, and although I too felt a little salty seeing my favourite go from 2nd to 30th, I believe that it is not worth getting up in arms about it because at the end of the day there is a whole season of competitions where any team has a chance to win. 
4. They should have restarted the round and allowed the participants to retry the map.
While I too would have loved to see a rematch for Ace Rae, I would like to say that I, and probably many of the people playing, knew that it wasn’t going to happen. Noxcrew is very strict about the way MCC is run, it’s why I think it works so well. However, this means that they will not budge on these rules even in the face of something such as this competition’s Ace Race debacle. In the entire time of MCC, Noxcrew have only once ever restarted a round. This was in MCC 7 during Battle Box after there were server issues causing extreme lag for everyone (and Wilbur and Magistrex blew up their own teammates). It was unlikely that they were going to restart the round due to the mistake, and honestly, it might’ve caused more trouble than good to reset the points and the entire round of Ace Race. 
5. The Spirit of MCC
This last one is more of a general statement than a misconception, but I would like to say that I have seen a lot of newer fans confused and upset about this MCC’s outcome. However, I would like to remind everyone that at the end of the day MCC is a for-fun tournament which brings MCYTs of every background to compete and have fun. Yes, there is an element of competitiveness as it is a competition, but it goes against the very spirit of the competitions to be toxic and rude in spite of not winning or placing lower than you expected. At the end of the day, it is a MC tournament that has no monetary prize other than a golden coin. It is immature to slander, spread misinformation, or send death threats and harassment over such a tournament and I wish shame upon anyone who’s first reaction to not winning or their team not winning was to do such a thing. MCC is a brilliant tournament that has changed the game for how MC Competitions have been done, and it is disheartening to see the hard work Noxcrew and Scott have done be disrespected as such. I hope next MCC the fandom can come together and make this the lovely fandom event it once was. 
960 notes ¡ View notes
bratkook ¡ 3 years
Text
not yet. jjk
Tumblr media
not yet, almost, right now pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, some angst, pg-13 word count. 4.1k warnings. mentions of infidelity, some feelings come to light, unrequited pining, spur of the moment kissing, light grinding on the dance floor, jungkook pops a boner and wants to cry</3 summary. jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship note. this is based off a request sent a while back for numbers #43 and #67 from this prompt list! (i think this might turn into a small drabble series...mayhaps)
Tumblr media
Jungkook can spot your discomfort easily, the occasional colorful light bouncing off your face showing him the flash of anger in your eyes. The only reason he’s not currently running for the hills, knowing very well how mean you can get when angry, is because your glare isn’t being sent at him. Not yet at least. 
Because of this, he allows himself to enjoy the cute way your nose scrunches up, lips twisting in displeasure as you stare at the crowd of people, eyes locked onto an unlucky bystander. Honestly, he wishes he could hear your thoughts, wanting to know exactly what has your panties in a bunch, ruining your mood instead of letting you enjoy the expensive fruity drink he had just bought you as payment for allowing him to drag you out of the house. Jungkook isn’t a mind reader though, so he decides on his next best option. 
“Who’s got you looking all sour?” he sighs, resting his elbow on the counter of the bar as he inches closer to you, head at your level in an attempt to match your line of sight. 
“Him,” you seethe, brows pinching together, showing those light wrinkles in between them, a product of how expressive you were and definitely something Jungkook always teases you about. 
Jungkook can only hum in question, eyes squinting in the low light as he attempts to find the him you’re talking about. With a slight turn of your head, you’re inches from Jungkook’s cheek, the obvious look of confusion etched onto his soft features letting you know he was absolutely lost. With a soft huff your fingers are gripping his cheeks and moving his face in the right direction, free hand pointing as discreetly as you could to the man in question. 
You know he spots him, you can feel his jaw tense underneath your grip. What you don’t feel is the sudden guilt that fills him up, sloshing in his stomach and mixing with the liquor he just drank until he feels a little queasy. Jungkook instantly regrets coaxing you out of your little dungeon with the promise of cheering you up. If he had known the spawn of satan–dubbed your ex boyfriend and also the reason why you were in a downward spiral–would be here, he would have just let you rot in your bed like you originally wanted. 
“Do you wanna go?” he mutters out, cheeks still squished by your slowly tightening grip, and he begins to accept the fact that you might just break his jaw right now. It’s fine, he thinks, he deserves it. 
“No,” you grunt stubbornly, fingers finally releasing him as you turn back around and choose to face the endless amount of bottles behind the bar. He may be the reason you were currently on a never ending cycle of watching sad, heartbreaking chick-flicks from the early 2000’s, dumping you with the lame excuse that you two were on different paths and he just wasn’t ready for commitment. It’s something you accepted, albeit jaw tense and eye twitching as you did so, but you figured you would eventually find your way back to each other. 
Your mind was warped, believing you were meant to be, that this was just a mere bump in the road that you would laugh at together in the future. 
That is, until he blocked you on all social media, and you had to hear from your best friend that he had moved on days later and was now with some blonde-haired, fresh faced, supermodel-esque woman that you could not get yourself to hate. Instead you took to endlessly scrolling through her instagram while you stuffed your face with milk chocolate and questioned why you had ever convinced yourself that you had a future with him. 
“Good, he’s a dick and you shouldn’t let him ruin your night.” Jungkook grumbles, slinging his arm around you as you hold your forgotten drink by your lips. He had seen your relationship with Hajoon play out from the very beginning, knowing slightly more intimate details than he would like considering you were next door neighbors and happened to share a wall between your bedrooms. 
The friendship you had with Jungkook blossomed right after you moved in four years ago, friendly neighborly talks morphing into actual conversations, and eventually inviting each other into your apartments where you would attempt to beat him at any game you had in your Nintendo switch. It was a great dynamic, providing the two of you with a sense of relief after your busy days at work. 
Unfortunately, the second you got with Hajoon was the end of any of those playful matches, your ex’s jealousy making you distance yourself in an attempt to keep your relationship at bay. 
Jungkook can’t say he didn’t see it coming, having heard the way you’d cry anytime you had an argument and your ex would leave, slamming the door behind him so hard Jungkook’s walls would rattle. It had become such a common occurence it was a shock he hadn’t marched out of his house, met Hajoon in the hall, and gave him a clean right hook in your honor. 
He was secretly hoping you’d break up with the jerk for your own good–and maybe for his own personal reasons too. Your ex was right in being wary of Jungkook, knowing the way a boy's mind worked, sensing Jungkook’s feelings for you in a way you were too blind to see. Jungkook wasn’t a dick though, he could tell you wanted your relationship to work so he kept his distance. 
When weeks went by without the sight of him he began to think you finally did it, a call for celebration that made him want to go over to your place to challenge you for a friendly match of Mario Kart like you used to. 
Until he ran into you in the hall and took note of what a mess you were, his smile falling from his face when he saw how defeated you looked. 
Your shameful confirmation that you had been royally dumped made his heart twist for you, his selfless tendencies urging him to help you feel better in any way he could. You were thankful for it, grateful that he was keeping you company while you moped around, providing you with just the right amount of distraction to allow you to breathe and slowly heal. 
Honestly, today would have been just another day if it wasn’t what was supposed to be your two year anniversary. The second Jungkook heard the telltale sounds of The Notebook starting up in your bedroom—something he hadn’t heard through the drywall separating your rooms in weeks—is when he knew something was up. 
Jump to: now. 
With Jungkook looking sheepish and wishing he had chosen another bar, and you gripping the cup so hard it was a shock it hadn’t shattered in your grasp. 
“He’s with her,” you whisper out harshly, head downcast, swirling the liquid around in your glass as you force yourself not to look back at them. The vision of them coddled up in the corner, her arms wrapped around his while she laughed at whatever he whispered in her ear had stung enough the first time, you weren’t jealous but the pain still lingered inside of you.. 
“Just try to ignore him. Don’t let it bother you,” he attempts to reassure you, the bass of the music muffling the way you try to deny the fact that you’re clearly upset, his attention now elsewhere. 
Jungkook takes a chance and looks back once more, eyes narrowed as he searches for Hajoon in the crowd. He spots him with more ease the second time, seeing the way he lazily drinks from his glass while the blonde rests her head on his shoulder, lips moving as she tells him something that makes him smile. 
“Oh shit,” Jungkook chokes, eyes widening slightly in shock when Hajoon meets his gaze. He’s been caught, too late for him to avert his eyes and pretend he wasn’t blatantly staring. He can only give him a tight-lipped smile that he hopes doesn’t come across as an invitation to come say hello. 
“What?” you question, turning to stare at Jungkook and seeing the look on his face, doe eyes swirling with a mix of emotions. 
“He saw me,” he speaks through clenched teeth, lips barely moving as he does so, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. 
“What?” you repeat harshly, setting the drink back down as your palms grow clammy, finger tugging at your shirt’s neckline when the air becomes thick and stuffy. 
“Oh fuck, he’s coming.” Jungkook throws back the remainder of his drink, grimacing at the burn lingering in the back of his throat before placing the cup down. “Just follow along,” he whispers into your ear, standing tall as Hajoon approaches the two of you. 
He’s ballsy, Jungkook will give him that, more so when he completely ignores Jungkook in favor of calling out your name. 
“Y/N, oh my god is that you?”
Jungkook can’t stop the way he glares at the bastard, not even the small jab to his side that you deliver with your elbow is enough to wipe the look off his face. Still, you pause to breathe, shutting your eyes briefly before plastering a look of surprise on your features as you turn around to face him. 
“Hajoon, what are you doing here?” Your voice has risen a few octaves, pitch surpassing the normal customer service voice and entering unhinged and borderline crazed territory. Hajoon doesn’t notice though, and neither does the girl strapped to his side, the two of them smiling at you and not giving Jungkook a glance. 
“Oh, we’re just celebrating our four month anniversary.” The girl finally speaks up, giving Hajoon a kiss to the cheek and completely missing the way your face instantly falls. Her innocent statement has you coming to the sudden realization that this son of a bitch had been cheating on you for the last two months of your relationship. 
Jungkoon spots it easily though, can sense the way your body tenses up beside him, no doubt will the rage flare up in the form of hot tears spilling over and onto your cheeks soon. One look at Hajoon’s pleased face is enough to not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the way he affects you. 
“Young love,” Jungkook sighs, long arm pulling you into his side obnoxiously, seeing the way Hajoon eyes the two of you carefully. “I can relate. We’ve been together for...what is it again babe, five months?”
Hajoon doesn’t even attempt to be discreet, eyes bulging out and fist curling at his side. He had hated Jungkook the second he met him, intimidated by his physique and the way he made you laugh with ease, threatened by him in every sense. It was the reason he told you to cut ties with him, his fragile ego not trusting your neighbor, fully convinced all Jungkook would have to do was beckon you over for you to leave him. 
Any man would feel threatened by him, just looking at him now with his long hair framing his face, the challenging glimmer in his eyes as he gauges the other’s reaction. Hajoon follows Jungkook’s arm, seeing how it snakes around your body and settles with his palms curling around your waist, fingers gently squeezing your skin. 
Jungkook chuckles when Hajoon meets his gaze once more, free hand adjusting the yellow tinted sunglasses perched on his head—something that should make him look like an A class douchebag, because who the hell brings shades to a fucking club. But like all things, Jungkook makes it work. 
All of this tied in with that small, white lie, makes Hajoon’s head spin in a jealous whirlwind. It was fine and dandy if he cheated on you but how dare you give him the same treatment, with your neighbor of all people. 
“Five months?” He bites first, eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of you. 
The insecurity is written all over his face, it almost makes him shrink in size and for some reason it fills you with confidence. You stand taller now, sliding your own arm around Jungkook’s side as you nuzzle into him. 
“Almost six.” Those two words are the nails into his coffin of insecurity, probably increasing his trust issues for years to come, but considering it was no longer your problem, you don’t care. 
“Wow, almost half a year. That’s so cute, isn’t it?” His girlfriend coos, perfectly manicured hand placed over her chest, totally missing the way Hajoon looks like a kicked puppy. 
Now that he doesn’t have the one up, he’s no longer interested in sticking around, the gross green monster perched on his shoulder laughing at his misfortune. 
“Adorable,” he grunts out. “We should get back to our table. It was nice seeing you.”
He doesn’t wait for a response before walking away, his girlfriend giving you a small wave before following behind him. The growing distance between you makes your muscles relax, sagging in relief as you release Jungkook’s side and hunch over the sticky bar. 
“I think I'm gonna puke,” you groan out, eyes going crossed when you feel Jungkook rest two fingers against your lips, sending him a questionable stare. 
“Please don’t, that drink was expensive. You’re only allowed to hurl as the grand finale of the night, and we’re just getting started.”
Jungkook smiles when you shut your eyes and groan, your mood was already down in the dumps, and despite the small rush you got from putting Hajoon in his place, you were still craving the comfort of your bed. “Can we go?”
The bartender proceeds to place a glass of water in front of you, assuming your slumped state was due to intoxication and not the gross remnants of running into an ex-boyfriend. You grab the glass regardless, taking a big gulp of the cool liquid and sighing when it helps calm you down. 
“If you really want to go we can, but at least try to loosen up.” His smile is genuine, cheeks pushed out as he looks down at you with kind eyes. “We’ll stay on the opposite side, and if you’d still rather watch the Notebook for the millionth time, we can do that.”
With a half-hearted groan you nod, allowing Jungkook to order another round of drinks for you to enjoy before eventually dragging you out onto the dance floor. He knows how to keep the atmosphere up, goofy smile on his lips as he bobs his head along to the loud beat, hands clasped with yours and wiggling in time to the music. 
“You love this song,” he manages to say through the noise, pulling you closer as he settles into a spot on the decently packed floor. You couldn’t even deny it, he heard just how often you played it through the paper thin walls. That playlist full of hit 2000’s songs was your guilty pleasure, and it was the main reason he had decided to bring you to this club on their themed night. 
Jungkook was attentive, he knew so much about you and played it off casually, always listening to things you say you enjoy, storing them into a folder labeled under your name and shoved into a very important part of his brain. 
You knew he was trying his best to get you to enjoy yourself, so you give in, beginning to sing along to the lyrics of an old song that brought back a flood of memories that made you smile back at him. Jungkook feels the first burst of success bloom inside him, joining in with your singing, raising up your clasped hands as you begin dancing. 
The smile doesn’t leave his face as he stares down at you, the few drinks you’ve had loosening you up and allowing you to push the earlier thoughts away. He feels mesmerized, eyes locked onto you, the flash of colors painting your skin, illuminating you in alternating shades of purple and blue. His heart does that annoying thing where it skips and stutters in his chest, mouth drying up as you drop your head back and sway your hips, slowly loosening the grip in your hands and turning around until your back is dangerously close to his chest.
Jungkook’s hands hover in the air for a moment, panic over taking his brain as he tries to remain calm. He could do this—he has done this before—the two of you would go clubbing before you got with your ex, and dancing definitely played a big part of it. So why was his brain short circuiting?
Sure your ass was brushing up against his crotch with each sway of your hips, but you were dancing, so his mind and his dick could fuck right off. He shakes his head to clear any dirty thoughts as his hands loosely grip your hips, testing the water, and when you smile and look back at him he feels less wary and sways his hips in time with yours. 
You can feel his chest brush against your back, breath fanning along your skin from his close proximity, only getting closer when you lift an arm back and hold his shoulder to pull him tighter against you. The heat sticks to your skin, thin shirt dampening with sweat from the warmth of the bodies around you, everyone in their own state of drunkenness as the bass flowed through their chests. 
Going out like this had been something you missed, used to frequenting the bars and clubs by your apartment with your friends and Jungkook, something that came to a halt because your ex claimed he hated that kind of scene. Something that was clearly a lie considering he was here now, enjoying himself as him and his new girlfriend danced along. 
You didn’t realize when he made his way onto the dance floor, enough distance separating you, but now that you had spotted him you feel like he’s way too close for comfort. In a similar position to you and Jungkook, Hajoon is free to look around while his girlfriend dances on him, eyes locked onto you with a smirk that makes your skin crawl. 
Jungkook is too lost in the music to notice where your attention has gone, earlier effects of the alcohol settling into his bloodstream, warming him up in that familiar way he welcomes. When the song changes, flowing into the next bass heavy anthem, you turn around in his grasp, giving him a brief glance before your hands are gripping his cheeks and bringing him down into a messy kiss. 
This is definitely something he’s never done with you before.
A muffled sound of confusion is swallowed by you as he quickly falls into the motion, large palms gripping your hips, slowly sliding up your back before lightly tangling into your hair to deepen the kiss. Jungkook can taste the liquor on your tongue, mixing with his own as your tongue slips between his lips. He has no idea what came over you but his racing heart and buried crush don’t let him question it, soft lips smacking with yours, not heard between the thrumming music. 
Your fingers feel the warmth of his cheeks, how he blushes into the kiss but you attribute it to the alcohol pumping through him. Harsh breaths fan across your face as he groans, lightly pulling back for a gasp of air but you don’t allow it. “No, don’t pull away. Not yet.”
And who is he to argue with that, blindly letting you bring your lips back together in a messy kiss. Your small pleas for him to continue has all the blood rushing to his cock, the ache felt in his jeans when it starts to harden, pressing into the denim uncomfortably and only getting worse when you gently bite down onto his lip before inching back. 
“Is he still looking?” you question, breath jagged as you peer up at Jungkook’s dazed expression. 
“What?” he dumbly replies, lips swollen and shiny, eyes still focused on your own as he makes an attempt to reconnect your lips. But then your question dawns on him, like a bucket of ice cold water, it sobers him up instantly. Is he still looking?
This was all for show. 
“He’s on the far right.” You motion your head in the direction and observe his face when his eyes move over to check if Hajoon was in fact still there. He does spot him heading out in a hurry though, girlfriend trailing behind him as he exits the club entirely
“No, just saw him leave.” Jungkook clears his throat, fingers slipping out of your hair and settling down over your back just like before. He hopes his solemn expression isn’t amplified by the lights flashing across his face, trying his best to act unaffected, as if he didn’t just pop a boner on the dance floor over a revenge make-out session. 
Luckily you don’t spot his fallen expression, a wide smile spreading across your face in victory, happy that you had successfully put him in his place. 
“I’m so sorry for kissing you.” You gasp in realization, unknowingly pouring salt in the wound when you act as if kissing him was something you would never do if it wasn’t in an attempt to piss off your ex. 
“No, it’s okay,” he waves off and smiles, eyes glancing over to the bar once more. Jungkook needed a drink, maybe five—actually he wouldn’t mind going home and watching The Notebook now, that would surely give him a reason to cry with no questions asked. 
He starts to walk back to the bar with you by his side, the sad look you had earlier entirely gone, replaced with a giddy smile and a pep in your step, so he can’t say he's too upset. 
“God, you should’ve seen how mad he looked when he saw us dancing together,” you giggle, standing inches from him as he orders another drink. Before he can respond, you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him in for a hug. 
A hug, really?
Still, Jungkook sighs and wraps his own arms around your waist, a defeated smile on his face that he hides as he lets his chin rest over your head. The dip in his head makes the yellow tinted frames fall over his eyes and when he pulls back you snort at the visual, finger gently poking the bridge of them. 
“You look good in those.”
His drink gets placed in front of him then, giving him a good excuse to avoid stumbling over his words from your compliment, choosing to take a gulp of the hard liquor, wincing when it burns his throat. “Thank you,” he rasps out, grimacing at the taste and it just makes you giggle. 
“I should be thanking you. You need to be my fake boyfriend more often.”
Even more salt poured into his wound, topped with a dash of lemon juice in the form of your playful smile and nudge to his ribs, it stings. His heart ache in his chest, more so when he realizes his stupid boner was still going strong. Thankfully the dark lights prevent you from seeing it, the last thing he needed was further embarrassment. 
The yellow frames are placed back over his head as he takes another sip, nodding along to your statement with what he hopes comes across as a genuine smile on his lips once he sets his cup down. “Anytime you want Y/N.”
“I know this night didn’t end with the grand finale of me puking, but do you wanna go home and watch movies? No sappy romance ones, I'm not in the mood for crying anymore.”
He finishes his drink with ease, quickly closing his tab as he agrees. “Yeah, just let me go to the bathroom real quick.” 
You might not be in the mood for crying but he definitely was; he also needed to handle the situation in his jeans, and what better night to stoop this low than tonight. His own version of a grand finale coming in the form of jerking off in the dirty bar bathroom while maybe shedding a tear or two. 
“Okay! I’ll call an uber,” you announce cheerfully, allowing him to walk away as you settle onto one of the sticky bar stools. 
Jungkook’s chest feels heavy as he walks to the bathroom, slipping into the small room and locking the door behind him. His forehead rests against the dirty door, eyes falling shut with a groan. He wishes he had the guts to confess to his crush, needing to push the fear of ruining the friendship away from his mind, wanting to gather possible clues that could indicate that you might feel the same. 
One day, but not yet. 
3K notes ¡ View notes
tsukishumai ¡ 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
pairing: Bokuto Kotaro x gn!reader
summary: whoever said being adult was fun obviously never had bills to pay. so when Akaashi offers up a way to earn cash fast, you jump at the opportunity. except, you never thought you’d find yourself modeling in your underwear... least of all with Bokuto Kotaro
wc; 3k+
tags; fluff, humor, college au, mentions of very slight nudity
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
If anyone else other than Akaashi offered you this position, you would probably punch them right in the face.
Maybe he considers this payback for all the times he’s had to listen to you whine about your problems during your shared shifts at the cafe, or maybe this truly was his own sadistic way of attempting to provide support.
“Okay, so I know a way you can make easy money,” he started, and already those words should have sent alarm bells ringing in your head, but this was Akaashi. You’ve only really known him for a short time, but already you knew he wouldn’t lead you astray.
But really, the electronic shop five blocks from campus told you it would cost 55000 yen to repair your laptop monitor, so you weren’t exactly in a position to be picky. 
You had also been complaining to him for the past forty minutes -- about the broken laptop, the leaking faucet in your apartment, the textbook that cost you more than your groceries for the past month, the two hours of sleep you got last night, and your paychecks that were all but depleted once the bills were paid. He remained tightlipped throughout your whole tirade, so you suppose the least you could do was hear him out. 
“You’re not trying to sell my kidneys, right…” You mumble sarcastically, but you tilt your head to him anyway to show you were listening.
“No, sadly, it’s not quite the season for kidneys yet,” Akaashi delivers in a flat tone, “So you’re just going to have to deal with modeling.”
“Modeling?” Your reaction was harsh and loud, and you flinched away from the piercing glares of cafe regulars trying to study in peace. 
Akaashi smirks as he wipes down the steamer before replying, “Don’t worry, it’s not the kind of modeling you’re thinking.”
Your mouth dropped, and you raised an eyebrow as you crossed your arms, scoffing at Akaashi incredulously. 
“Are you trying to send me to a nudie shoot?!” you whisper in almost-mock offense, but now a part of you was a little worried that your favorite coworker was a secret pervert.
To your utter relief, Akaashi just laughs. “God, no. Well, I guess, kind of?”
At this point, your head was beginning to spin. “What do you mean kind of? Just spit it out already, Akaashi.”
Akaashi finally finishes cleaning off the coffee machine just as you finished replenishing the pastry displays, and in an unusual lull in customers, he’s able to lean against the bar and give you his undivided attention.
“My art professor pays the models for her figure drawing class a pretty decent amount of money, I think,” Akaashi tells you, and your eyes begin to sparkle. “She mentioned a couple of slots being open.”
“Really?” your interest was immediately piqued, “How much money?”
Akaashi shrugs. “Enough to strike at least one problem off your list, probably.”
That was all you needed to hear. Akaashi had given you his professor’s contact information, and you sent her an email the second you had clocked out of your shift. 
Professor Nobuta was a kind woman who emailed you back with such haste, you could feel her desperation matching yours. She was candid during the entirety of your exchange, saying that her usual model had dropped out last minute and there was a spot in her class tomorrow that she needed to fill as soon as possible. Lucky for both of you, you were actually available, and details were exchanged swiftly. 
As you read over the requirements, your eyes roved over two words in a section of the email that made your eyes bulge out of your head. 
Semi Nude. 
You blinked once. Then twice. 
You had already formulated a kind rejection in your mind, ready to type your response when another section caught your eye. You inwardly groaned, dropping your head into your hands. 
She was offering you almost as much as two shifts at the cafe. 
That, alone, was enough to convince you, but the look of relief on Professor Nobuta’s face when you walked through the doors of her classroom was confirmation you made the right decision.
The seats around the classroom were nearly all filled, some students preparing their materials across their desks, and others sitting back and scrolling through their phones. The whirring of the A/C had filled the room with white noise, and you take notice of the two empty stools in the middle of the room.
“Thank you so much for signing up, L/N-san,” Professor Nobuta bowed profusely, and she gestured to a table for you to leave your things. “We’re still waiting on the other model, so take your time, and have a seat on the stool when you’re ready.”
You nodded in acknowledgement, and Professor Nobuta makes her way back to her desk. You briefly wonder if she was going to point you in the direction of a changing room, but realized the redundancy when everyone in the room was meant to stare at your half naked body anyway. 
You begrudgingly peeled off your clothes, folding them neatly before placing them in a pile on the table. Your footsteps made hardly any noise as you walked across the room, desperately trying hard to act nonchalant. 
Just as you took a seat in one of the empty stools, you heard someone pull the door open and loudly clamber inside.
“Ahh, welcome back, Bokuto-san!”
Your eyes widened at the name the professer had just yelled across the room. You brace yourself as you quickly whip your head around, and standing by the door sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck was Bokuto Kotaro. 
Student Athlete, Volleyball Star, Most Wanted Bachelor Bokuto Kotaro smiled brightly as he skipped to the table your items were placed, apologizing profusely for being late. All eyes followed him like moths, and Bokuto was the bright flame. Everyone knew him, and you often saw him walking across the quad, always greeting at least twenty people on the way. 
You could hardly hear what Professor Nobuta was saying to him, and you were now unabashedly staring as Bokuto began to strip out of his clothes. 
Bokuto was built like a marble statue -- hard lines that traveled across his chest and traced his abs must have been painstakingly carved with the utmost care by a masterful artist, and every movement he made created new shapes along his muscled body. You found yourself instantly wishing you had even an ounce of artistic talent, because it was no doubt that Bokuto was every figure artists’ dream. 
All at once, your vision was filled with gold and a sweet smile, and too late did you realize you had just been caught staring. Bokuto’s eyes don’t leave yours as he stands up straight, and struts over to you in nothing but a pair of nude briefs. 
“Alright, everyone, your timed session is about to begin,” Professor Nobuta’s voice had startled you nearly out of your seat, and you turn your head back to face the class, cringing inwardly when you noticed some were smirking at you, “Feel free to request poses from the models, as this will be a graded assignment. We only have an hour and a half, so make the most out of your time.”
You feel your body stiffen as Bokuto takes the empty seat next to you, staying silent when you feel his eyes staring at you. You might have been able to ignore this in another setting, but at the moment, about fifty students were watching him watching you -- eyes flitting up the stage down to their sketchbook as they try to decide where to begin. 
Envy coursed through you as the room began to fill with the sounds of graphite scratching against paper, wishing you could switch positions with literally anybody else in the room. You tried to relax your body against the stool, awkwardly attempting to find a natural position for your arms when you were interrupted by a throat clearing. 
Your head turns to the side, heat rushing to your face when you see Bokuto smiling at you.
“Hi,” he greets, his voice a direct contrast against the silent concentration filling the room, “I’m Bokuto!”
His knees were bent as he settled his feet on the first ring of the stool. He rests an elbow on his thigh so he can place his chin on the palm of his hand, giving you an expectant look as he waits for your response. You try to avoid the way his chest seemed to bulge even more in this position, but the furious sound of sketching says you weren’t the only one to notice.
“Bokuto Kotaro,” you say his name back, and he pulls his lips back into an even wider smile, “I know.”
You bite your lip when a student from the back requested for you to cross your legs, resting your hand against your thighs. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to be talking, but Professor Nobuta didn't seem to be paying either of you any mind. 
He hadn’t said anything to you after that, but the grin remained on his lips as requests begin coming in from students across the class.
They were all fairly simple -- please position your hand like so, could you extend your leg this way, or turn your head that way. The first twenty minutes had been spent doing individual tasks and repositioning, and soon you felt yourself relaxing into your role. Your previous jitters had all but dissolved, and you figured if the rest of the session were to go on like this, then you’d be golden. 
Your eyes shift over to Bokuto, who was leaning back with such easy grace, balancing himself with his foot against the footrest. The way his body created such naturally eloquent lines made it seem as if he was born to be a sculpture, to be admired and gazed at, to invoke inspiration and creation. You weren’t sure anyone in this room was even looking at you anymore, with Bokuto acting as if he was the lighthouse in a storm, beckoning all of you to come home. 
He turns his head a second too quickly, winking when his eyes meet yours, and for the second time in less than an hour, you realize you’ve just been caught checking him out. 
Your dignity was slipping through your fingers like sand, and you clear your throat before turning your attention to a poster on the wall.
From the corner of your eye, you see Professor Nobuta stand from her desk and making her way to a student in the corner. The two whisper among each other, and you watched as the professor consults with other students before nodding her head and turning to the both of you. 
“I received a sort of direction from a few students,” she began, beckoning for the both of you to stand, “They were hoping you could do some more intimate poses.” 
You balked, nearly choking on the air in our lungs. “I-intimate?”
Professor Nobuto nodded her head enthusiastically, and you exchanged a look with Bokuto. 
“Whatever you’re comfortable with — an embrace, hand holding, hands on each other’s face — get creative with it!” 
And with that, the professor sits back down on her desk and begins flipping through her phone, and the two of you are left to brace the expectant looks of the art students staring up at you. 
“This your first time?” Bokuto asks you gently, a sort of sympathetic look on his face as his eyes study your stiff posture. 
“Yeah,” you admit, and he coaxes you towards him with an outstretched hand. You hesitantly place your fingers in his palm, and for a moment, he just stood there. It took a minute for the sounds of rapid sketching to register in your brain, and you realize he’s allowing the class to take note of this pose. 
He’s standing directly across from you now, and you can feel his gaze burning trails across your body as he regards you from head to toe. You feel like an ant burning under the beam of a microscope, and you nearly burst into flames when he chuckles. 
“Nice peach,” Bokuto comments, and you nearly recoil back in surprise. The last thing you had expected from Bokuto was a comment like that, but then you notice his eyes flick back down to your underwear. 
The professor’s email hadn’t included too many rules or requirements. She only included the most important details, such as time, place, pay, dress code, and such. Stated in the dress code, you were allowed to wear undergarments of any neutral color. Today, you had chosen a simple pair of black underwear and figured it was the safest choice.
You hadn’t, however, noticed the large cartoon peach that had gracefully adorned the back of it, complete with a cartoon face that winked sparkles. Now that you were forced to stand, and the entire class got a good view for themselves. 
“Thanks,” you deadpan through gritted teeth, “It’s pretty juicy if you asked me.” 
Bokuto fails miserably to hide a smirk, but his eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked down at you. 
A few minutes (or eternity) later, his hand closes around yours, pulling it up to place against his cheek. He pulls you in by the other wrist, wrapping your arm around his waist as he cups the side of your neck. His other arm wraps almost completely around your middle, and he pulls you flush against his chest. 
His body was hard against yours, and you had no doubts he could feel your heart’s hundreds of beats per second. He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, and you hope he doesn’t notice the sheen of sweat beginning to collect on your upper lip. 
A fire was bound to be started with how quickly everyone around began to move their pencils, and you heart races when Bokuto absentmindedly draws circles on your skin with his thumb. 
He holds you in this embrace for much longer than you anticipated, and the butterflies in your stomach were making you nauseous. His eyes are trained on your face now, the intensity of his stare making you want to shrink back, but you hold your place and return his gaze. 
His eyes narrow and squint, eyebrows wiggling as his face scrunches up in thought. 
“Do I know you?” Bokuto asks, and it was in this moment where you felt your stomach flip flop into the abyss. It was the one question you had hoped he wouldn’t think to ask you. 
Because you did know Bokuto Kotaro, but not in the way everyone else on campus knew him. 
You remember clearly the slow, dreary Wednesday morning when Akaashi Keiji asks you the same thing. 
“Uh, yeah? Of course, you know me, we’re coworkers,” you replied sarcastically, and Akaashi insists it was more than that. 
“You’re hiding something from me,” he simply states, and you inwardly thanked the customer that had walked and interrupted that moment.
But you should have known that Akaashi was not one to let things go, and after being berated the entire shift about how secrets don’t keep friends, you finally confessed.
You were a student at Fukurodani. 
Akaashi didn’t believe you. There was no way, how was that possible? He would have recognized you. But you were the year above him, and had actively avoided school sports. Because as much as you would have liked to watch your school’s Nationally Ranked Volleyball Club play and compete with super hot athletes from across the country, there was one glaring reason why you couldn’t. 
You had confessed to Bokuto Kotaro in your first year. 
And you were soundly, and absolutely rejected. 
He had every right to, of course. You were just his classmate, you didn’t even know each other that well, and he needed to focus all his attention on volleyball. It made sense.You know that now.
But to your young heart, it was world ending, soul crushing even, and it took you two years to get over your ridiculous one-sided crush. 
Now here you were, standing in front of a group of people in nothing but your underwear, with Bokuto staring at you like a fly caught in a trap.
“No, I don’t think so,” you respond, and Bokuto scoffs. 
“You’re a bad liar,” he whispers, and you find yourself grinning. 
“How would you know?” You whisper back, “You just met me.” 
“No, I definitely know you —“ 
“Alright, everyone,” Professor Nobuto announces with a smack on her desk, “That about does it for today’s session. Give some thanks to your models!”
You jump back from Bokuto as the class offers a light round of applause. The two of you bow back, and you rush over to the table as the professor approaches Bokuto. 
You leave the two of them to chat as you hurriedly put your clothes back on, hoisting your bag up on your shoulder, and nearly falling over putting your shoes on.
“Thank you for today,” Professor Nobuto sneaks up from behind, a smile on her face as she hands you a blank white envelope, “I hope I see your name on the sign up sheet again.”
You offer her a grin as you accept the envelope. “Thank you for the opportunity!”
And with that, you rush out of the stuffy room and make a bee line towards the door. 
“Hey, Peaches!” Bokuto’s voice makes you freeze from across the room, and you turn around to see him adorned only his pants. “You never told me your name?” 
With a smirk, you put your hand on the handle, walking out the door as you yelled over your shoulder. 
“I thought you said you knew me!”
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧
“That was a trap, wasn’t it,” you accuse Akaashi as soon as you see him again, walking into your shift at the café just as he was about to clock out. 
His smile was almost evil, punching out as he gathers his jacket. 
“Whatever could you possibly mean, dear coworker,” he replies, and you smack him on the shoulder. 
“You had to have known Bokuto was doing that,” you seethe, glaring at Akaashi, “And you knew about… about… you’re dangerous, Akaashi Keiji.” 
He laughs, waving you off, “You said you needed help, so I offered help.”
“Oh, you conniving little —“ 
“Akaashi, you ready?” A familiar voice cuts you, making your head twist towards the door. 
A set of white and black streaked hair, a devilish grin, bright twinkling eyes — your nightmare in human form walking in. 
His eyes widen as they meet yours from across the room, and he waves a hand in the air as if you could have possibly missed the six foot three volleyball player barely fitting through the door frame.
“Hey, Peaches!” He greets cheerfully, walking and leaning against the counter, “Fancy running into you here.”
“Peaches?” Akaashi asks, and your eyes shoot him a nasty glare. 
“I work here,” you reply, and Bokuto’s eyes widen. 
“Akaashi, why wouldn’t you tell me you have such a cutie for a coworker?!” He demands of his best friend, who simply rolls his eyes and heads out the door. 
“Let’s go, Bokuto-san!”
“Akaashi! Hey, wait,” Bokuto runs one step to the door but stops and turns back, “If I come back tomorrow, you gonna tell me your name then?” 
You laugh. “I don’t work tomorrow.” 
“I’ll ask Akaashi for your schedule then!” He screams as he runs out the door. 
The smile on your face stayed on for the rest of your shift. 
295 notes ¡ View notes
strawberrymilkgeorge ¡ 3 years
Text
Part Six. Movies and Speedruns
warnings: swearing, many memes word count: 3.8k (not including pictures) (wow okay ash pop off!) 
behind the screen (irl!dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist
A/N: LETS ALL JUST AGREE TO NOT LOOK AT THE DATES ON TWEETS AND STUFF BC SOME CHAPTERS ARE SO SCUFFED WITH DATES!!!! JUST KNOW THIS STORY STARTS MID NOVEMBER!!!!!!!! (in a world where covid doesn’t exist btw)
**********
Tumblr media
.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
**********
Unknowingly and unintentionally, Y/n let out a big sigh as she poured a glass of water.
"What's wrong, Y/n?" Naomi asked gently, coming up behind her and hugging her tightly.
"Peter."
Naomi hummed, a sign that she was waiting for Y/n to lead the conversation so she could follow because if it were up to Naomi, she would immediately start trash-talking Peter and she wasn't sure if that was the vibe right now or not.
Y/n shook her head in disbelief as she jumped up to sit on the counter. "He got so mad when he found out I slept over at Karl's."
"I'm sorry, Y/n. I wish you would just cut him off completely."
"I don't know. I know I should but... part of me wonders if he could ever go back to how he was when I met him. I would probably date that guy again but not who he turned out to be."
Naomi looked horrified. "No. You sound like you're considering hearing him out. No, is that a joke? He's a bad person."
"I'm not," Y/n reassured. "I'm just thinking hypothetically. Probably because I miss having someone..."
"Y/n, you have a ton of thirsty people in your mentions. If you really want someone that bad, just scroll through, land on one and I bet they're a million times better than that sack of burned potatoes."
Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled lightly. "Most of those are jokes."
"Not all of them," she teased.
"I know you're going to tell me anyway so just say it. Who specifically do you think isn't joking?"
"Dream," Naomi sang.
"Okay, crazy." Y/n reached over, staying seated on the counter as she grabbed a bowl from a cabinet on her left. She then leaned all the way right, reaching as far as she could, but couldn't quite grab a cereal box from the top of the refrigerator.
Naomi rolled her eyes as she helped, handing Y/n the box. She even went the extra step to get Y/n a spoon and the milk because she was that nice. "I'm not joking. Neither is he. Karl and I have talked about it and we both agree."
Y/n paused at her friend's words, her hand hovering over the milk that Naomi held out for her. "You guys gossip about my love life?"
Naomi set the milk next to Y/n, tired of holding it out for her. "Of course? Like we don't do that about Karl? Or you and him about me?"
She couldn't argue there.
"Karl says there's a different vibe from Dream when you join calls and I believe it. I mean, I've seen it during streams myself so I can only imagine how much more obviously in love with you he is during private calls.
"That 'vibe' is Karl's delusional mind creating things. He's too scared to talk to cameragirl so he's projecting onto Dream and I."
"Yeah, okay," Naomi agreed sarcastically.
Y/n huffed. "Besides, he's in Florida. I'm in North Carolina, in case you weren't aware."
"So you're saying if you lived in the same state, you'd date him?"
"I didn't say that." She honestly had never thought of it. Sure she liked hanging out with Dream and her stomach got butterflies when he talked directly to her and he made her smile harder than anyone ever had and he—
And she didn't like him like that. She had only officially met the guy like a week and a half ago and she didn't know what he looked like. There was no way you could catch feelings for someone without seeing them.
Naomi's expression fell again. "Distance doesn't matter, anyway."
"I swear if you say something about George I will slap you," she threatened through a smile and Naomi gave her an innocent grin back.
"If you're lonely, get on Tinder, not Peter. Or get on Dream. I have no qualms with that."
"Peter isn't even an option, Naomi." Y/n sighed, ignoring the comment about Dream.  "Also," she swallowed the last of her cereal and set the bowl down with a clank. "I'm gonna tell Peter I don't want to be friends anymore. Dream and George can be added to the list of Peter haters."
"You talked to them about it?"
She nodded. "You know how I have little gossip sessions with George? Well, Dream was there too this time."
"Well, of course Dream would hate Peter. We've established that he likes you."
"No, no, you and Karl delusionally hypothesized that."
Naomi tapped the counter methodically, a sign Y/n knew to signal that she was thinking hard. "Somehow, one day, I'll prove he does."
"Good luck."
"Wanna watch a movie?"
"Yes," Y/n perked up. "Go pick something, I'll get blankets."
She went to her room, grabbing her favorite cuddling blankets. She started leaving her room when she heard a ding on her open desktop, signaling that she had a call incoming from Discord. Cool timing.
"I'll be just a second, Naomi!" she called across the house before dropping the blankets on her bed and sliding her headset on, answering the call from Dream. "Hi, Dream!" She sat on her chair and tucked her knees to her chest.
"Hi," he greeted sweetly. "How are you doing today?"
"Much better than when we last talked. How are you?"
"Great now that I'm talking to you," he said smoothly. Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "Are you busy?"
"Unfortunately, yes. My roommate and I are about to watch a movie."
"Ooh, what movie?"
"Not sure yet. Any suggestions?"
"Dark Knight. Unless you wanted me to say, like, Tangled or something."
"Yeah, girls' night is exclusively princess movies. Do you know nothing?"
"Apparently," he said with a laugh.
"What's up?"
"Oh, well, I was just gonna see if you wanted to be on call later with me, George, and Sapnap while I stream speedruns, but you're hanging out with your roommate so nevermind."
"Oh," Y/n deflated. "That sounds fun."
"I can push it back if you want to be part of it. If not, that's fine. I just thought it would be cool."
"No, no, no I really do want to, but I don't want you to have to push it back. When were you planning on starting?"
"In about an hour."
"I'll just join later if you're still playing. If that's okay that I come late."
"No. You have to be on time or not at all," he joked. "Of course that's fine," he assured. "And if I'm not playing anymore, you can still join... we usually talk for forever after we play games and it's fun. I would, er, we would love for you to hang out with us."
Y/n couldn't help the large smile on her face from staying even after they hung up and she walked back into the living room with her pile of blankets. She couldn't help it even when Naomi pointed it out and asked why she was so happy.
"Oh, uh, I've been invited to join Dream and them later for a stream."
"That vague answer doesn't warrant the shit-eating grin you have."
Y/n shrugged and cuddled more into her blankets. "What movie did you pick?"
*****
As the end credits rolled across the screen, Y/n yawned and looked over to Naomi in the dark. She was out like a light. Y/n stood up and made sure Naomi was covered in the blanket and she had a pillow. She crept back to her room and slid her headphones on, pulling up Discord where she saw the three boys' names still in a voice call.
She pulled up Twitch on her second monitor and looked for Dream's stream. It was already about an hour in. She clicked on it and her headphones echoed with the sound of George and Sapnap laughing like they said the funniest thing in the world.
"Shut up," Dream muttered. "Guys, what were the coords for the portal? Seriously, come on."
"Nobody tell him," George joked.
"George!"
"Where's Bugsyyyy?" Sapnap whined. "I want her to make fun of you with us."
"Half the stuff we're making fun of him for is about his big fat crush on her so..."
"George!" Dream yelled again. "No, it's not!"
Y/n smiled as she heard that, knowing it was a joke but laughing at the way Dream laughed at the accusation. She knew it wasn't serious or else they wouldn't talk about it on stream. George and Sapnap teased a lot, but certainly, they wouldn't out someone's crush in front of a hundred thousand viewers live.
Tumblr media
"Oh!" Sapnap spoke out loud as George laughed loudly, both reading the text at the same time. "Speaking of..."
Dream waited for either of the two boys to elaborate but neither of them offered one. "What happened?"
"Bugsy texted us," George said off-handedly, typing a response to her. "She's coming in a second."
"Oh."
"What do you mean 'oh'?" Sapnap laughed.
"You guys have a groupchat?"
"Aw, jealous?" George asked.
Y/n joined at that moment, the first sentence coming from her Discord instead of Twitch being from Sapnap saying, "Would it make you more jealous to know our group name is Bugsy's Boys?"
"No, Sapnap, that's the one with Karl," George corrected. "The one with just you, me, and her is Bugsy's Boyfriends."
"WhAT?"
"I still don't approve of that, by the way," Y/n commented.
"Bugsy!!" Sapnap giggled happily. "You're finally here!"
"BUGSY!" George cheered.
"Hi guys!" Y/n laughed at the enthusiasm she was greeted with. "Hi, Dream!"
There was a few seconds of silence before, "Dream!!" George yelled right before the death screen appeared on the Twitch tab still opened on Y/n's right screen. "You idiot, what are you doing?! Why did you throw that run??"
She covered her mouth with the hoodie collar and laughed. "Off to a great start, bud."
"NO!" Dream yelled, knocking something, or somethings, off his desk. "Noooo! I didn't throw it, George, I FELL! Oh, that was going to be such a good run."
"What happened? How did you miss that huge ravine?" George asked while laughing. "It was literally right in the open. You didn't even try to use your water bucket."
"I-I was... I was distracted."
"By what? The completely open field with nothing blocking your vision?" Sapnap criticized with a laugh as well.
Y/n giggled to herself before letting her eyes trail to his chat, which was filled with the same accusations and guesses.
user5: BUGSY!
user2: DISTRACTED BY BUGSYS VOICE
user4: imagine saying hi so cutely that you make a man fall into a ravine
user1: are they dumb? obviously bugsy saying hi made his brain short-circut
user6: guys stop it wasn't bc she said hi. it was the g i g g l e
user3: DISTRACTED BY BUGSY!!!!
user8: HI BUGSY
user10: how to kill a man: hire bugsy to giggle and say hi directly to him
Y/n immediately blushed and covered her face again. She really had a habit of hiding even when no one could see her.
"Oh my gosh," Dream groaned, leaving the world and starting a new one. "Oh. My. Gosh. That's so annoying. I was doing so good."
"Oh," Sapnap laughed. "I understand now."
"What? What did I miss?" George asked.
"Just read chat," Sapnap explained. "They have the answer. Dream, your chat is so smart. Thanks for solving the mystery, chat!"
"No, they aren't ri— that isn't true!" Dream defended. "Chat, shut up."
"You sure?" Y/n asked teasingly, watching as his character paused when she started talking. Was she really making him this flustered just by talking? Surely not. He was just playing into the joke. He continued playing without saying anything, which made George and Sapnap laugh more.
The subject eventually changed and the atmosphere quickly became more relaxed and chill. Tonight was not a feral night like George had texted in all caps.
"Hey George," Y/n started, biting on her hoodie string with a smile because she knew Naomi would hear this when she watched the VOD the next day. "My roommate says hello."
"Oh my gosh," he muttered, making her laugh. "Let it go."
"Wow, I guess that's one way to treat your fans..."
"Fine," he sighed. "Tell her I say hello."
"Well, not if you don't mean it," Y/n teased.
"Yeah, George, you sound so unenthusiastic?" Sapnap asked.
"He's just flustered," Dream commented. "It's okay George, you can have feelings."
"Dream, you fell into a ravine because Bugsy said hi."
"Oh, come on! That's not—I just— I missed the jump! That's it!"
"I'm not flustered or unenthusiastic, I'm just tired, okay?" George explained, ignoring Dream, a yawn spilling out of him to prove it.
Y/n smiled. "Well, you could always let me give her your number if you really want..."
"No. If she had Discord you could give her that but not my phone number."
"Wait, really?" Y/n gasped. "Seriously?"
George laughed lightly. "Yeah, sure, why not?"
"YES! Okay, a huge win for the girls. Well, a huge loss for the fangirls but a huge win for the girls of this apartment."
"Oh my gosh," he muttered and she could practically see him rubbing his face in embarrassment.
"I'll send you her hashtag when she makes one so you know who to add back."
"She's going to make an account just to talk to George?" Sapnap giggled.
"Yes, dude!" Y/n defended. "She at least wants to be his friend, let her shoot her shot!"
Dream ended the steam soon after, not being able to focus enough to beat the end on any of his runs. He had streamed for just under two hours so he seemed to be getting tired as well. George went to bed soon after and after 20 minutes of talking with Sapnap and Dream, Sapnap mysteriously disappeared.
Y/n was about to leave as well, not wanting Dream to feel obligated to stay on the call with her when he spoke up.
"Does Naomi actually like George?"
"Yeah, she does."
"Then I want him to accept her love."
Y/n laughed. "How is he with long-distance relationships?"
"Well, he and I do just fine..." Dream joked. "Oh, not what you meant. I don't know, you guys are the ones that talk about each other's love lives apparently."
"You're still bitter about that?"
"Yes!"
"Suck it up," she laughed. "Naomi would do probably anything to date him so I doubt distance is a problem for her."
"George's sleep schedule is completely messed up, so the time difference wouldn't matter too much. And when he comes to America they can meet in person."
"Wait, he's coming to America?" Y/n gasped happily. "When?"
"There's no set date, but yeah eventually. He'll probably just come to Florida but we've all talked about having a huge meetup with a lot of our friends."
"Oh... cool..."
"Bug? You know you'd be invited to that, right?"
"Oh, really?" she smiled.
"Of course. You're part of the group now."
"Sick," she muttered to herself, but he heard.
"Bug, you're one of my favorite people, do you know that?"
She blushed. "Really?"
"Really."
"You barely know me, Dream."
"Yeah, well, I know enough to know that I'm sorta attached to you."
"Attached to me? In what way?"
He suddenly sounded nervous as if his brain caught up with what his mouth was saying. "I don't know, nevermind."
"No, Dream, what do you mean?" her voice was soft and understanding and it made him feel safe.
"I just... I don't know. I care about you a lot. We met only, what, like a week or two ago, and I already worry about you a lot. Playing games doesn't feel the same anymore unless you're playing with us."
"To be fair, we have been tweeting at each other for much longer than a week or two."
"Yeah, that's true. But it's not the same as actually talking to you."
She smiled shyly. "I care about you a lot too, Clay." His name sounded strange as if it suddenly made everything much more serious. "Sorry, that just kinda slipped. I won't call you Clay if you don't want me to—"
"No, it's okay, it, uh, I like hearing you... say it. But, uh, you can call me whatever you want."
She smiled widely at the nervousness in his voice and the hard pounding of her heart. "I've heard from multiple people that you never stop talking about me."
He laughed timidly. "Maybe. Do you talk about me?"
"Ask Karl," she giggled. "My guess is yes." Her stomach felt tingly and her hands shook lightly. Why did she feel like this all of a sudden? It was late, she reasoned. That, or it was because Naomi had planted the seed of curiosity in her mind. Did Dream like her? No... right?
"I'm sorry if my chat was making you uncomfortable at the beginning when I died..."
"Don't worry, I wasn't uncomfortable."
"It was true, by the way," he paused, "what they were saying. Just... in case you were wondering."
Y/n couldn't wipe the smile off her face, which was growing painful at this point. "What, my voice makes your brain short-circut? That was one comment I saw."
Dream laughed. "More like your entire presence, but... yeah I guess so."
How is someone supposed to respond to something like that? The sweetness in his voice almost made her sick but in a good way.
And just like when he named her Minecraft flower something sweet knowing that no one would see it, why was he still playing up the joke when no one was around?
Not knowing what to say, she decided to let him in on a little secret. "If it matters, you're one of my favorite people too."
"It does."
There was a deathly moment of tense silence as if both of them were screaming to say something but neither did.
"Basically, if we do have a meet-up, I'll sue you if you don't come."
Y/n laughed. "My pockets are empty, sir, so... good luck."
He laughed and it was music to her ears.
"Are you not nervous to show everyone your face? Like, if or when we do all get together."
"Not really. Especially not if it's just to our friends. Are you?"
"Yeah," she admitted.
"Why?"
She sighed. "I'm sure people have me painted in a specific way in their heads and I've seen fanart of me that is way different and way more attractive than I am. I just don't want to let anyone down by not living up to their expectations."
"Bug," Dream said softly, "you couldn't let anyone down."
"You don't know that."
"You can't disappoint real friends or real fans with the way you look."
"To be clear, Dream," she laughed nervously, afraid she would sound conceited, "I don't think I'm ugly. I like the way I look. I'm happy with me. But that doesn't mean I can't still let people down."
"Different than expected doesn't mean disappointing."
His words smacked her in the gut. He was right. Reality and imagination are very different. Neither has to be better or worse than the other. She could look the complete opposite of how someone expects but that doesn't mean they will be either disappointed OR pleased. And why does it matter anyway? If she likes how she looks, who cares what other people think?
"It's also scary to think of getting recognized in public," she admitted. "Being recognized from the start is one thing because it starts off slowly with only a few people knowing your face but if the first time people see your face is when you have millions of fans, the recognition would be overwhelming."
"That's true. I don't think I would mind that much, though."
"Of course not, you're you."
"What does that mean?"
"You like the spotlight."
"I guess. Not all the time."
"Well, what about you?" she asked. "Are you afraid of people knowing what you look like?"
"No. I want to do a face reveal soon but I don't know how I would do it. I want to do it at some kind of event or something but I don't know."
"I need to schedule around when you do it because you'll break the internet. Give us content creators a warning so we can prepare to not get viewers for a week."
Dream laughed. "Oh come on."
"Twitter would just be full of the same picture of you in every single tweet."
"It won't be that big of a deal."
"Something tells me your millions and millions of subs say otherwise."
"Whatever," he said. "As if you wouldn't break the internet too."
"Maybe for a day or two. But you'd break everything for weeks."
"Sure." There was a long pause before Dream softly said, "Karl's lucky."
"How so?"
He didn't speak for a moment, almost like he wasn't prepared for that question because he didn't mean to be heard. "I wish I could know you the way he does."
"You could. He and I knew each other in person first so it's different. You and I could get there eventually."
"You think so?"
"I know so. I trust you a scary amount for someone I met weeks ago."
"I didn't mean to sound like I'm trying to pressure you into showing me your face or telling me your name. I didn't mean like he gets to know what you look like and I don't. I meant, like, I wish we could hang out in person because I prefer that over talking in Discord."
"I get it, Clay. I feel the same way," Y/n said softly. There were a few moments of silence before she spoke again.
"Oh, gosh, it's already four."
Y/n's head snapped to look at her clock, which read 3:57am. "Already?" she whispered. "Dang."
As if acknowledging the time changed the atmosphere, it suddenly felt like 4am. Her back ached from her shifting in her chair so much over the last few hours, never being able to find a good position. The house was eerily quiet and all she heard was the low hum of the heater. The house felt stale, not used to its occupants being so alert and awake at that hour.
"I should probably go to bed..."
"Yeah, me too," Dream agreed. His voice sounded tired. "Thanks for joining us, it was really fun with you."
"Thanks for inviting me. Sorry I made you die. Hopefully you'll still let me back again."
"You're always invited to barge into my streams. Actually."
Y/n giggled again and mentally slapped herself for sounding like a little kid. "Well, you too. You can interrupt my streams anytime."
"I'll hold you to that."
"Goodnight, Clay."
"Goodnight, Bug."
**********
PREVIOUS | NEXT
**********
taglist: OPEN (at the time) @hydrate-tion @loraleiix @tinaswagbd @charsdummb @smileyyuta @1ghoste1 @cerberus-hellhound @gaysludge @queestionmark @carnations-red @letsloveimagines @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @boiled-onionrings @a-cryptic @fee-btheweeb @letsloveimagines @erwinss @just-a-stan @axths @kayleigh2703 @furiouspockettoad @sometimeseverythingsucks @powerpuffyn​ @itshaileyn @millavalntyne @automaticcomputerpaper @nikkineeky @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @sprucekot @jabby16 @mae-musicbitch @hungoverhellhound @dreamyteam @kuroo-icedtea @stuffforreferences @menacingaesthetic @sapphic-soot @fangeekkk @haseulreturns @queenwastaken @peteysgf @losingvienna @bi-narystars @zero-nightshade
938 notes ¡ View notes
celestial-kit ¡ 3 years
Text
Welcome to the Internet
Bakugo is a problem solver and doesn’t like when his friends are upset. 
Pairing: Bakugo x reader, with Kirishima and Mina
Warnings: Fluff, Comfort, Harassment, Stalking, Reader receives unsolicited messages and pictures that are disturbing
______________________________________________________________
You were sick of creeps on the internet. It seemed like ever since you turned 18, there had been an influx of weird men in your DMs, sending you unsolicited messages and pictures. This was apparently exacerbated by a reddit thread that rated girls that attended UA when they turned 18, and you were unfortunate enough to rank near the top of the list.
Recently, there was one person online who you couldn’t seem to get rid of. They would follow you, send you unsettling messages, you would block them, and then they would make a new account and follow you again. It seemed to be a never ending cycle and you weren’t sure how to make it end. 
Tonight, it was especially annoying. You were trying to study, sprawled out with your books on the floor of Bakugo’s room with Mina and Kirishima, both of whom were crying about not understanding the material. Your phone was face down on the ground, in the space between you and Bakugo, and every few minutes you would feel the soft buzz from your notifications. 
It was clear Kirishima and Mina didn’t notice it, they were too busy being distressed that they were going to fail the exam. But, you knew that Bakugo noticed. Every time your phone vibrated, you could see his angry red eyes flit to where it sat and they would narrow for a second before returning to his study materials. After the 15th vibration, however, he had had enough. 
“Alright, who the fuck is texting you?” he yelled, swiping the phone off the floor and quickly inputting your passcode to open it. His eyes went wide when he saw the array of messages and pictures flooding your phone. You didn’t know exactly what they said, but you had an idea. They probably described how your stalker wanted to gag you, bound you, and use you against your will. They also probably included several grainy and off putting photos of his wrinkly, shriveled cock. You didn’t say anything, you just watched as Bakugo scrolled through the messages and his face transformed from shock to disgust. 
“Jesus Christ, who is this?” he asked, using his fingers to zoom in on one of the pictures. Kirishima and Mina had long since abandoned their studies to look over Bakugo’s shoulder as he examined the contents of your phone. Mina gasped, horrified, with a hand over her mouth while Kirishima screwed his face up, evidently angry at the messages you were receiving.
“Yeah, who is this guy? It’s so unmanly for him to send you stuff like this, we gotta find out who he is!” he puffed his chest out, looking like he was getting ready for a fight. 
You shrugged your shoulders, leaning back on your hands and rolling your head back to look at the ceiling. “I’ve no idea. Some guy who I keep trying to block, but he just makes new accounts and sends me… that.” You wave your hand in the general direction of your phone as you look back at your friends. You could tell by the looks on their faces that they were concerned, and rightfully so. You were pretty upset by the harassment, but you weren’t sure what else you could do at this point.
Bakugo’s eyes narrowed at you, and then he pushed himself to a standing position and mumbled “Fuck this” before storming out of his room with your phone. You blinked as his door slammed shut behind him and then looked at your two remaining friends, who looked equally as puzzled.
Two hours later, you were laying on Bakugo’s bed with Mina, watching TikToks, while Kirishima struggled through a math problem. When Bakugo burst through his door, he spared a glance to where you were laying and grumbled, “Get off my bed.” Then, he threw your phone in your direction and sat down to help a grateful Kirishima with his problem.
“Where did you go?” you asked as you leaned your elbow on his pillow and opened your phone, finding that the harassing messages were gone and the user was blocked on your social media. 
“I had one of the nerds in the support course track that loser's IP address and block it on your phone. Got his name too and reported him to the police for harassment,” he said this matter of factly while he grabbed a pencil and scribbled away on Kirishima’s homework. You sat up fully and gawked at him for a minute, before he finally looked back at you with a scowl on his face.
“Next time someone does some shit like that to you, you better not try to hide it. Tell us so we can help, stupid,” he pointed his finger at you and spit as he spoke, clearly angry at the situation. Even still, you couldn’t help the warmth that spread in your chest at the thought of how much he must care about you. 
“Thank you, Katsuki,” you say sincerely, gripping your phone to your chest.
“Tch,” he scoffed at the use of his given name. “I said, get off my bed, dumbass.” Then, he reached over and grabbed your ankle, yanking you off his mattress and causing your butt to land harshly on the ground. 
355 notes ¡ View notes
satendou ¡ 4 years
Text
⟼  monster
⍣ all time low series | next | 1/4
・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・
⇢  pairing: tendo/reader
⇢ au: atl!au, college!au
⇢ summary: you like horror movies, tendou likes horror movies, what could go wrong?
Tumblr media
⇥ masterlist
Tumblr media
⇢ warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, mentions of bullying, insecurities, piercings, cursing
⇢ word count: 13.2k
・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・
⇢ a/n: i think this is the biggest fic i’ve ever written and it’s one of my favorites, if not my absolute favorite i’ve written so far. it was kinda hard to write it in a way that stayed true to my vision for it but also didn’t make it childish, so i hope i succeeded in that regard. as always, thank you to @keijiskitten​ for editing this!
Tumblr media
“Oh, come on, ‘Kaashi,” you said, setting your hand on your hip. You were standing around in the middle of the classroom with him and a few others, waiting for your professor to show up who was no doubt getting a coffee from the overflowing Starbucks down the street. Class would be half over before he finally arrived. “It’s just a few scary movies.”
“Sorry, _____. I have to study and I just know that trying to watch movies with you and study is gonna be a nightmare,” he said, giving you a sympathetic look. “And give me nightmares.”
You rolled your eyes and looked around to Bokuto, who was scrolling through his phone while he chatted with Yaku about the next practice. That was a hard no. Poor Bo would agree without complaint and wind up with nightmares for a week, clinging to you throughout the night. Catching Akaashi’s eye, you exchanged knowing looks and chuckles.
“Hey, _____,” Semi said from your other side. He was busy filling out a music sheet with notes for his next possible song, and the way he said your name indicated he was more focused on that than your quandary.
Still, you turned to look at him over your shoulder, quirking your eyebrow at him. When he didn’t immediately continue, you prompted him. “What’s up?”
“Oh, right,” he said, looking up from the paper. He gave you a small smile and tapped the tip of his pencil on the desk in a smooth rhythm, leaving small marks all over the surface. “You should see if Tendo wants to join you. He’s really into horror movies too.”
“Um, who?”
Semi’s eyes widened in surprise and he pointed over his shoulder. You could hear Akaashi snicker from your other side. The chair on Semi’s other side tipped back on its back legs, and a man with close-cut red hair peeked around his back, waving cheekily at you.
“Hi, name’s Tendo Satori. I’ve only been hanging around you for about two weeks now,” he said and, though he sounded lighthearted and jovial about it, you could see the way his eyes remained narrowed, scrutinizing you. And he didn’t look impressed.
You flushed bright red, realizing you did know him but had never committed his name to memory. Mostly because he hadn’t ever really said anything to you or seemed interested in you at all. 
“I-- well, I’m sorry,” you offered awkwardly. But you meant it, at least. You felt a bit bad now that he was in your face. Trying to lighten the mood, you joked, “I’m _____ _____ and my brain space is committed to horror movies and studying. No space for names I’m afraid.”
Semi rolled his eyes and Akaashi heaved a long-suffering sigh, covering his eyes with his hand, but Tendo laughed at your stupid joke. His eyes eased up, his smile relaxing, and he now looked genuinely interested. 
“A horror movie marathon, huh? I’m interested. Why don’t you tell me more?”
--
Tendo didn’t actually expect it to go his way. As with most other people, he was sure you were just faking your enthusiasm and would flake out once you were free of him. 
And yet when lunch rolled around and your group of friends were standing in the breezeway, shivering as you tried to pick out some place to go and eat off campus, you fell into step beside him.
“I really am sorry for not knowing who you were,” you offered, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and slipping a pair of gloves on. “Could we, maybe--”
He cut you off, grinning. “Forgiven and forgotten, _____.”
Hesitantly, you smiled back. He was strange, to be sure. Even though you hadn’t really had a true conversation with him yet, you got the feeling he was different, eccentric and unpredictable maybe. The way he harassed the shit out of Semi and some of the others was hysterical, though. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was that made you feel that way, but it wasn’t bad. You were even a little curious.
“Okay cool. So if, by chance, we were to do this movie marathon, how would you feel about cannibals?” you asked, tapping your chin thoughtfully. It was a theme you had been thinking about for a while, but none of your friends were into horror movies much, let alone a dozen or so movies centered around such a gory theme.
Tendo clicked his tongue and you heard a strange clink. “Hypothetically, right?”
“Right,” you said, your eyes zeroed in on his mouth, waiting for him to speak again.
He hummed, his lips curling in thought and his eyes narrowing as he stared off in the distance. Second in height only to Bokuto, he towered over everyone even though the two of you walked together at the back of the group. Speaking of Bokuto, you could hear him over the chatter of the other students around you, talking about the diner just a block away from the school and guessed that that was where you were going. 
Then he shrugged. “That sounds rad. What’re you thinking? Hypothetically.”
“Well, obviously gotta go with The Hills Have Eyes. I mean, it’s a classic. And then of course Wrong Turn because there’s so many of those. And, uh…that’s all I have, but that’s literally like 8 movies and if we get past those I don’t know what we’ll do,” you said, weaving through the throngs of people on the sidewalk. You had forgotten you had been trying to see what was in his mouth just a few minutes ago as you avoided toes. You could see the diner sign up ahead, reading “Newly Opened” and a list of menu items, but it was otherwise obscured from your view.
A gasp from Tendo startled you and you whipped around to look at him, only to find him staring at you in disbelief.
He had to fight the laugh in his chest from coming up at the wide-eyed, freaked out look on your face as he said, “I cannot believe you’ve forgotten the most classic of classic cannibal movies, _____. How could you forget The Texas Chainsaw Massacre movies?”
Relief mingled with amusement on your face when you realized what he was getting at, and you covered your mouth as you laughed. Putting on your best ashamed expression, you closed your eyes. “I can’t believe I forgot those. I’m such a fake fan.”
“Kicked out of the club for sure,” he said, holding the door open for you. The bustle of the diner drowned out anything more Tendo said as you followed the others towards a large table in the back corner. After that, you were seated between Semi and Akaashi and the conversation was halted.
For the time being.
--
You didn’t bring up the marathon again, though you snagged Tendo’s number the day after you went to the diner. The conversation started out about movies and morphed into other topics like majors, highschools, how he knew Eita and how you had met Bokuto and Akaashi, amongst others. It left Tendo in a bit of confusion. The two of you kept up a steady stream of communication throughout the day, even sneaking in texts during classes that could net you extra work or pop quizzes. And yet never once was the marathon mentioned.
Part of him was bummed because he had kind of been looking forward to the movies, but the larger part of him was unsurprised. Something like that was way too intimate, and for someone like you to want to do something like that with a-- someone like him was too much to hope for. He was just happy that you weren’t avoiding him like most others did; he wasn’t going to ask for more.
Except he kind of did want more, and he didn’t want to feel that. The disappointment was already tangible on his tongue and he swallowed it down every time he saw you in the hall, chatting or laughing with someone else. It would ease slightly when you would turn to look in his direction, flashing a smile and waving as you passed by. In class, you started sitting beside him, Bokuto and Akaashi often following behind, and he found his small group of friends growing because of you. Bokuto was loud and brash and treated him like they were best friends, and Akaashi’s quiet demeanor reminded him a lot of Ushijima. Except he was maybe a little more expressive. 
You even started walking home with him, parting ways when you had to go in different directions with a soft smile and a shine in your eyes that he tried not to read too much into. He enjoyed those days, when no one else was around and he just talked. You even knew some of the manga he read, and he lost himself rambling about Jump. When he brought it up once, about how he talked too much, you shook your head frantically. 
“No, no, I don’t mind! It reminds me of Bokuto, to be honest. He can talk about anything and keep a conversation going so easily. I’m kinda jealous,” you said, giving him that satisfied smile again.
He tried to clamp down on the feelings, to keep a tight rein on the emotions that kept trying to pull his eyes in your direction anytime he heard your voice or drew his thoughts to you late at night.
Sighing, he rubbed his eyes, frustrated at the fact that he was thinking of you a-fuckin’-gain. Didn’t he have enough to worry about without wondering what you thought of him? He already knew. You weren’t interested. It was fine.
His phone dinged, the screen lighting up to reveal your name and a text.
You: ‘watcha up to?’ Tendo: ‘nm. studying and suffering. you?’ Y: ‘“studying” sksks what’re you doing tomorrow night by chance?’
Tendo’s heart stuttered in his chest and he groaned, barely resisting the urge to fling his phone out the frost covered window in front of him. For the love of god, could the universe stop fucking with him? Clicking his tongue, he considered telling you he was busy. It would be easiest, and save him the disappointment that was sure to accompany whatever you had planned.
But his fingers were traitorous and typed out exactly what he didn’t want to say. Or so he told himself.
T: ‘nothin. what’re you thinkin?’ Y: ‘well...i’m thinkin about cannibals’
Tendou snorted at that and watched the three little dots appear again.
Y: ‘and u’
He choked and slammed his phone down on the desk, wincing and immediately picking it back up to check the damage. No, no way, he wouldn’t look at it like that. It wasn’t like that. You were just inviting him for the movie marathon in a totally platonic way.
Another message came in.
Y: ‘and me’
You were actually trying to kill him.
--
He could think of nothing the next day but how much he was looking forward to that night. Once he had finally gotten his shit together enough to text you back, the kinks had been worked out. It was almost a no brainer that he would be spending the night. A movie marathon with twelve movies meant an all-nighter, if the two of you could pull it off. He would go home after classes, while away the few hours until around six o’clock, and then head to the address you had given him. 
Unfortunately, he didn’t see much of you that day. You shared no classes, and you had a class when he took lunch, so he ate with Semi and Bokuto that day. Instead you snuck texts to him when you could, mostly talking about how excited you were for that night. It didn’t help, somehow both fanning and soothing his inner turmoil.
“Why do you look like you’re gonna throw up?” Semi asked at last. Tendo was staring at his half-eaten chicken sandwich like it had mortally offended him, and he was curious. 
Tendo jumped, having forgotten the other two were even with him, and shook his head. “Uh, nothin’.”
But Bokuto snickered and leaned in to whisper to Semi, who was already suspicious of his short, clipped answer. Whether he actually wanted to whisper or not, Tendo wasn’t sure, but Bo sure as shit didn’t manage it. “Him and _____ are gonna watch movies tonight.”
Of course you had told Bokuto. And probably Akaashi too. He wondered if they had changed their minds and decided to join you when they found out. It put a rather annoying feeling in his chest, like someone was squeezing his heart.
The other two were still talking in a loud whisper, watching Tendo’s expression shift and flicker through a myriad of emotions. Bokuto was lost, but Semi could recognize them after so many years of knowing the moody red-head, and wanted to laugh. He was so good at hiding his negative emotions, but when it came to sadness or happiness, he was like an open book. And he was being pretty obvious right then.
“Wow, that’s pretty big, Tendo,” he said, watching his friend closely. Tendo flinched, shrinking into his hoodie, and Semi nodded to himself. “Don’t let yourself get so worked up. She wouldn’t ask if she didn’t want to.”
He knew where Tendo’s insecurities were coming from. A childhood fraught with bullies and fake friends and people pretending they wanted him around only to treat him like a freak. Even through highschool it was that way, with a particularly nasty incident involving a girl pretending to want to date him that ended with Tendo refusing to come to school for almost a week. After that, he kept to himself and the volleyball club, refusing to even acknowledge that anyone else might actually want to get to know him seriously.
It had gotten a bit easier when he left Shiratorizawa and those memories and most of those people behind. Growing up with them was what had made it hardest, so surrounding himself with fresh people who didn’t have any preconceived notions and rumors about him had allowed him to open up a little. Even Ushijima, across the ocean in California, noticed a marked difference in Tendo’s demeanor.
Semi just hoped you didn’t do anything to send him spiralling back into his insecurities.
“Yeah, I guess.” 
It was easy for Semi to say that, but he had no idea what it was like, constantly worrying if people were being serious or if they were just waiting to pull the rug out from under him. Even now, he was fighting with himself to just get through the day, waiting constantly for you to change your mind and cancel the plans. Every time his phone lit up with your name, he expected it.
And yet, even after his classes ended and he arrived home, you didn’t. Just commenting that you would be MIA for a while while you cleaned the apartment and went to the store. And when you came back a few hours later, while he was binging Buzzfeed Unsolved videos, his heart leapt into his throat, but you were only telling him what you had gotten for him and to pick up anything else he might want on the way over.
The time couldn’t pass by fast enough while he busied himself packing as slowly as he could. He was already wearing sweatpants but brought a pair of basketball shorts just in case. A clean t-shirt and the other essential items he would need for the night went into a backpack, and when that was done he decided it was a good time to leave.
Unable to help himself, he sent you a text before he left, interrupting whatever you were already typing, the three little bubbles disappearing for a moment while you read his text.
T: ‘you sure you’re alright with this? i don’t have to come over’ Y: ‘?’ Y: ‘do u not want to!’ Y: ‘?*’ Y: ‘we can do this another time if you want’
He was typing before he could really think about the possibility that that might be the best option, his heart thumping harder than he liked in his chest, and he willed himself to take a deep breath. It was just two friends hanging out, watching horror movies together. Nothing more.
T: ‘no i do. was just making sure you were still ok w it.’ T: ‘leaving now to get snacks. your choices s u c k’ Y: ofc hurry up and get over here Y: ‘tf rude’
Locking the door behind him, he slung his bag onto his shoulder and sighed, hoping the night didn’t end as badly as his nerves were telling him it would.
--
Your doorbell rang an hour later, while you were in the middle of setting up your room for the binge. You were hoping he wouldn’t mind, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable either. It was hard to miss the nervousness and the way he seemed to shy away from you sometimes, especially when you did certain things like reach out to pull something off his hoodie or read something over his shoulder. But you wanted this to be as normal as possible, to prove to him you were genuine.
You liked Tendo. A lot. 
He was funny and sweet and just as eccentric as you had expected. His jokes were off-color but not offensive, just sarcastic and witty and you giggled every time. The way his face lit up when he heard you sent your heart into a frenzy, and the way it fell and he seemed to shrink into himself a moment later hurt. It didn't feel like a rejection of you but instead a rejection of himself and you wondered if there was any way to help him understand that you didn’t want anything from him but for him to be himself.
Upon opening the door, you found it was only the pizza delivery man, and you smiled with disappointment, until you spotted a shaved red-head coming up behind him.
Tendo gulped when he spotted you in your open doorway, wearing woolen leggings and a t-shirt, exchanging a box of pizza for cash and smiling brightly at him over the man’s shoulder. Waving, he waited until the stranger was out of the way before he approached you.
“Hey,” he greeted, peering down at you before scanning the empty living room of your apartment over your head.
You were unsurprised to see the wariness in his eyes, bleeding into the smile he was forcing on his face. It was your first time seeing a look so fake on him and for the first time you wondered if this was really a good idea. But it was only movies. And you liked Tendo. It would be fine.
So you smiled and ushered him in with one hand, the box perched precariously on your other, and watched him shrink into himself like he always did when he came within touching distance of you until he had passed into the living room. Then he just stood there, peering around with that same suspicious look, eyes narrowed and mouth turned down at the corners.
“So, what do you think?” you asked, pretending you hadn’t seen it as you moved into the kitchen. 
“It’s nice,” he answered, letting his bag hit the floor with a thump. The rest of the apartment was silent save for the heater going, and little by little he felt himself relaxing. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble for little ol’ me, y’know.”
You giggled at the way he pointed at himself, wearing a cheesy grin as he walked into the kitchen. “Maybe not, but it’s been ages since I’ve been able to do anything like this. It’s as much for me as it is for you.” You punctuated your statement by poking him lightly in the chest, and he feigned pain.
“You wound me. And here I thought you were treating me special,” he moaned, leaning back against the counter and placing his hand over his forehead. He grinned a little hearing you giggle again, and then the pizza box hit his arm.
“I am treating you special, you goof,” you said, opening it up and letting the smell of cheese fill the kitchen. “With pizza. But I think we’d better take it into the bedroom, since that’s where we’ll be watching the movies. Just in case we fall asleep, you know,” you tacked on at the end, suddenly realizing how that might sound. Not that it meant anything, but again, you feared making him uncomfortable.
Absorbed in your thoughts, you missed the faint dusting of pink on his cheeks, clashing marvelously with his vibrant hair. You carried the box down to your bedroom with Tendo on your heels, eager to see your room. It was about what he expected from you-- a messy bed, a cluttered desk, clothes half in your laundry basket and half on the floor surrounding it. The TV sitting on your dresser was already set up with The Hills Have Eyes menu playing, volume muted. You set the box on the bed before smoothing the covers and crawling on.
Tendo hovered in the middle of your room, casting his eyes around nervously, looking for a chair or something to sit on. He definitely did not want to assume, but you patted the bed beside you, giving him a quizzical look.
“I’m not gonna bite, Tendo. Promise,” you said, and though you made it sound like a joke he could hear a line of seriousness at the core. Running his tongue over the back of his teeth, he walked slowly towards you, giving you every opportunity to change your mind, but you just looked impatient until he climbed on beside you. “Alright, now let’s get this started!”
--
Two movies in and the two of you had gotten pretty comfortable. Both of you had stretched out on the bed, but you had decided to lean up against the headboard with your pillows to support you while Tendo had opted to lay on his stomach with his head resting on his arms by your feet.
“Would you stop?” he laughed, pushing your foot away where it had been tapping incessantly at his shoulder. You were just doing it to annoy him, and you giggled at the irritated amusement in his voice.
The pizza box sat empty on the floor by the bed, but you found yourself craving something else to eat. When you hummed, Tendo looked away from the screen, rolling onto his side and propping his chin in his hand to watch you nibble at your lip. It was cute, he couldn’t lie, and the anxiety he had repressed by getting distracted by the movie came back slowly.
“What’s up?”
“I’m thinkin’ about...those chips,” you answered, and made to get up. You had to crawl over his long legs and almost fell off the bed as you gracelessly made your move, knee slipping off the small space between his leg and the edge of the mattress. Sticking your tongue out as he laughed at you, you pranced towards the door. 
“Bring my bags too, would you?” he called, pausing the movie since you had forgotten. It had just started, and you were lucky that he was nice enough to do it, especially when he heard your voice carry back down the hallway.
“Kiss my ass, Tendo.”
He laughed at that, loud enough that you could hear it from the kitchen and over the crinkling of the bags as you rifled through them. In the end, you shrugged and carried them all back down to your room, along with a few drinks. Maybe you wouldn’t have to get up again for a little while.
You shivered when you stepped back into the room. It wasn’t much warmer than the rest of the house, and now your arms and toes were cold. The heater was already set as high as it would go and hardly touched the chill, and you cursed the cheap piece of crap. 
“What, you cold?” he asked, pulling out a bag of the chips he had brought with him. The tab on a can of soda popped and he cursed as it fizzed over onto your blanket. “Shit, sorry.”
“No worries. Yeah, kinda. But the heater is already on full blast. Ugh,” you said, sitting beside him on the bed again. He was still wearing his hoodie, and up close he was warm, making you realize just how cold you were. You were just gonna have to crawl under your blankets because you would never survive the cold like that. “Wait…”
There was a tent on the screen where the movie had paused, and Tendo looked back and forth from it to you with curiosity. There was a calculating look on your face and he wasn’t sure he liked it. “Uh, what?”
There was no way he would agree to it. Way too intimate, right? But it really seemed like it’d be right up his alley, and it would be fun to build, and it would get you warm. It was the perfect idea really.
“Tendo, how do you feel about making...a pillow fort?”
The heater continued to buzz in the corner, overlaid by the slight static from the TV, while Tendo processed your question. His mouth had fallen open, brows furrowed while he stared at you in what could only be surprise, and you laughed nervously.
“Wha-- Seriously?”
“Um, you know what, nevermind. I guess it was a stupid idea. It just seemed like it might be fun and--”
He cut your babbling off with an excited wave of his arms, leaning forward into your space and in the light from the TV you could see a childlike happiness glowing in his eyes. “I’ve never made one but it sounds like fun. You know how to do it?”
Stunned by the turn of events, you nodded. “Well, sort of. Mine have always fallen down after a while though,” you admitted, standing up from the bed again. “We need chairs and books and all the blankets and pillows we can find. And the couch cushions. Probably.”
In no time flat you had everything gathered, with Tendou hovering around waiting for you to direct him. It was a pain to get everything set up, and you ended up using the bed since you didn’t have enough chairs. Moving the chairs all over the place until there was enough room inside and you could put the books down to seal the ‘walls’ was tedious, but it was worth it when Tendo crawled in to set up the cushions to seal the space beneath the bed. After padding the floor with several blankets to lay on, you stuffed the pillows from your bed in after Tendo. When you didn’t immediately crawl in after him, he poked his head out to see what you were doing.
“Well, we didn’t think this through at all, so now we gotta watch the movies on my laptop,” you said as you ejected the DVD from your player. The jingle of your computer booting up played and backlit your face in the glow, and you prayed it wasn’t going to go right into an update. It took a few minutes to start up, so you passed it to him while you plugged the power cord in and ran it into the fort. 
You could hear the clicking of the mousepad and by the time you flipped off the light and crawled in beside Tendo, the movie menu was playing. You also realized just how cramped it really was with Tendo’s lanky form inside. There was just enough space for both of you, but you were going to have to either sit up with it in your lap or you were going to have to set it to the side of you and lay on your sides.
He was tense, staring determinedly at the movie playing and trying to avoid moving too much. Or so you guessed, anyway. Anytime you so much as shifted he would jerk away before relaxing, and you were a split second away from nixing the idea. A part of you was starting to wonder if it wasn’t you that was the problem, but if it was, why had he bothered to agree?
“You’re really warm, Tendo,” you said, trying to break the ice. It was an awkward and clumsy attempt, but maybe you could help him settle down if you showed him you weren’t uncomfortable first?
But that just made him pull further away, leaning against the couch cushions. “Oh, sorry.”
It was already warm and comfortable in your little fort, a light blanket thrown over your knees and warming your toes. And with him beside you, you were actually a little more than comfortable. “No,” you said, waving your hands frantically, “no, like, it’s nice. I’m finally warm.”
It was hard to tell in the washed out light of the laptop, but Tendo’s face turned a very bright shade of pink. He tugged the neck of his hoodie up over his nose and fixed his eyes firmly on the flickering violence, annoyed that he was overwhelmed by something so simple. Why did you have to be so damn cute?
But it did the trick, even if he didn’t know that was your intention. He finally relaxed and stopped flinching every time you shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. Sitting cross legged only worked for so long and Tendo noticed you moving around after a while, when your knee knocked his for the third or fourth time.
“You alright? You’re about to bring the whole fort down,” he commented around a mouthful of chips.
“Ah, well, my back is starting to hurt sitting up, I guess. I wanna lay down,” you said, sounding whinier than you meant to, following it up with a short stretch. It alleviated the pain for a moment, until you hunched over again.
He swallowed his chips and returned his eyes to the TV screen, thinking. On one hand, he wasn’t exactly comfortable. On the other, he had no idea what you were thinking. Did you want to abandon the fort?
But you didn’t say anything, fiddling with the blanket for a few moments as you tried to work up your courage. You damn sure didn’t want to tear down your fort-- it had taken you way too long to put the stupid thing up-- and if you said the idea of cuddling up with Tendo wasn’t appealing, you would surely go to hell for lying. The underlying problem was him. What would he say if you brought up the obvious solution?
You were taking too long to answer, so Tendo prompted you, pausing the movie. “Do you want to just get back on the bed again?”
“No,” you said, and then flinched. You had answered way too quickly and that somehow made him nervous and reassured at the same time. “This is really nice I just…I-know-that-you’re-kind-of-uncomfortable-and-I-don’t-want-to-make-you-more-uncomfortable.”
Tendou stared at you, unblinking as he tried to decipher your breathlessly rushed words. After a moment he laughed, still confused, but he could see the anxiety on your face. “I-- what? All I heard was uncomfortable, I think. But you don’t make me uncomfortable.”
Your heart thumped painfully in your chest as that weight left your shoulders. He was so intuitive it was almost scary. Even still, you had to make sure. “Oh, really? You always seem like...weird around me, I guess. I was starting to think I was pushing too hard, I guess?”
“Sorry,” he said, scratching the back of his head. His elbow brushed the sheet above you and he quickly dropped it. “I’m used to people being uncomfortable around me. Guess it just turned into a habit to avoid people I don’t know. So that I don’t freak them out.”
Not entirely true, given that he enjoyed messing with people, but it was true in your* case. It took you a moment to answer, and he started to worry that he had said too much. 
“You don’t...make me uncomfortable, Tendo. You never did. You’re a weirdo but not...in a bad way,” you said, and glanced at him to gauge his reaction, worried he would take it in a negative light.
But he was smiling, eyes fixed on the paused movie and you bit your lip. He was way too attractive and you couldn’t fathom anyone who thought otherwise. Clearly they were just cowards.
“Well that’s a relief. It would make things pre-tty awkward right now if I did,” he said and bumped your shoulder. It felt like a whole planet was lifted off his shoulders with this revelation and he heaved a huge sigh. “So, if we don’t want to abandon the fort but our backs are about to crumble, what do we do?”
“Uh.” You blanched, having forgotten about that little hiccup. Your idea was embarrassing to think about let alone explain and if you hadn’t made him uncomfortable yet this was sure to.
“Uh,” he mocked, and twisted around like a snake so his face was in front of you, blocking the light from the screen. “Spit it out before we collapse.”
“Just-- um--” you stuttered, and he quickly realized whatever your idea was, it had you flustered. He was just about to start teasing when you picked up the laptop and set it to the side of you. Rolling over onto your side, you tucked your hand underneath your pillow and relaxed, feeling the pain immediately alleviate. “Now you lay down. If you want.”
Your heart was racing in your chest, waiting for him to do something. It was a long, long minute before he finally said anything, and it wasn’t what you expected. Not that you had any idea of what to expect.
“Uh, are you sure? I mean, we could just--” What was he thinking? This was exactly what he wanted and wasn’t it Semi who had said she wouldn’t ask if she didn’t want it? Did he really have to overthink everything? You were in a literal pillow fort watching scary movies with him, offering to let him cuddle up with you, and he still thought you weren’t sure.
“Well, unless you aren’t,” you said, and was that disappointment in your voice? No way.
“No no, no. I’m gonna take my hoodie off first, though. It’s way too warm in here now,” he said, backtracking quickly. Then again, maybe it was just him that was too hot. It was an actual dream come true, and he pinched himself quickly just to make sure he wasn’t asleep. 
You rolled over onto your back to watch him struggle, his arms brushing the ceiling and walls of your warm little haven as he fought the hoodie. Your eyes widened as it finally came free, seeing the colorful swirls of ink covering his arms. “Holy shit.”
“Wha--?” he said, and turned to find you staring open mouthed at his tattoos. “Oh, right, I guess you haven’t seen these before, huh?”
“Nope,” you said, sitting up and squinting to see the undefined shapes in the faint light. It was almost cute the way he held his arm out to you hesitantly, like a child offering you a drawing to examine and praise. Taking it, you traced the lines covering his smooth, warm skin, trying to figure out what they were. But the shapes were undefinable in the faint light. You could make out splashes of blue and purple, red and pink, separated by black lines or faded together to make something. Part of you wanted to ask, but there was something mysterious about not knowing. “I can’t even tell what they are but god, Tendou, I know they’re gorgeous.”
He shivered at your featherlight touches, the feel of your fingers skimming delicately over his skin, and your words caused fire to erupt in his stomach and chest. His tattoos were something he was extremely proud of, one of the few things he had that made him feel confident, and hearing you compliment them made him feel so fucking good. Chucking his jacket out into the room, he returned to your side and the two of you got comfortable.
Pressing play on the movie for the 3rd time, the two of you fell silent. With your head below his chin, it was the perfect position for him to see the screen over you. You could feel the warmth rolling off of him, only an inch of space between his chest and your back, and both of you were well aware of it.
It was nearly impossible to focus on the movie, trying to reign in the urge to just slide back a little bit and mold yourself to him. Nibbling at your lip, you rolled just a little under the pretense of stretching and bumped into him. Just your arm into his, and he didn’t move away.
“You good? Need more space? I can crawl under the bed if you want,” he said, smirking at you. He thought he knew what you were playing at, but your next words confirmed it. It was the oldest trick in the book and, even though no one had ever used it on him, he had seen it at work with Semi and Shirabu too many times.
“Just stretching. I’m still a bit cold though,” you said, facing the TV again.
Suppressing a snicker, knowing damn well that wasn’t what you were after, he offered, “I can get you another blanket, if you need it.”
The silhouette of your shoulders fell, and you couldn’t hide the sigh that accompanied it. “It’s alright, Tendo. It’s not that bad.”
You really should have seen that coming, you guessed. The swell of hope and the crash of disappointment was painful in your chest, and you tried to focus on the movie again, ignoring the tempting warmth at your back. If he wasn’t interested, he wasn’t interested. It was cool.
Which was why you jumped when a weight settled over your side, a snicker filtering behind you as he molded himself to your back. It was slow, hesitant, and you would guess he was trying to make sure you were alright with it. Warmth seeped through your t-shirt and you sighed happily, shimmying back into him out of instinct, and this time you could feel his quiet laughter in his chest.
His arms were so long that he had to fold it in front of you, hand coming to rest just underneath your chin, and when you relaxed so did he. With his chin resting atop your head now, he asked, “Better? This is what you wanted, right?”
“Shut up,” you whined, hiding your face in your hand. It was embarrassing enough without him having to tease you about it. But you supposed it wouldn’t be Tendo if he didn’t make fun of you for everything. It was so easy after that to focus on the movie, now that you had gotten what you wanted. The snacks lay forgotten near your feet, not wanting to move and mess up the delicate balance that was now between the two of you.
It was tenuous and any small movement from either of you could send it toppling in either direction, and you weren’t even sure what it depended on. You knew for sure which way you would like to see it go, but it was just as comfortable the way it was.
Silence fell again until the movie ended, which was the only reason you moved. You could probably have fallen asleep like that, but you weren’t ready yet, wanting to bask in whatever you had with Tendo for a while longer.
When you sat up to change the next movie, Tendo rolled over onto his back, watching you fiddle around with it. Sweat beaded on the back of his neck and he shifted uncomfortably. Seemed you felt the same because you turned to look at him, an apology written on your face.
“Sorry, do you mind if I go change into shorts. It’s actually too warm for these now,” you said, setting the DVD case back on the pile. You felt like you were suffocating in your thick winter leggings now, but if he wasn’t okay with that then you would suffer a little longer. At least until you melted.
“Oh thank god you said something. I was about to die in these sweatpants, I swear,” he answered, fanning his face with his hand. You were pretty sure he was just exaggerating that though. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”
“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’, and crawled towards the escape flap, wincing at the sound of crunching and crinkling under your knees all of a sudden. “Oops.”
“Oh those had better not have been mine,” he whined, flashing the light of his phone towards the bag. He groaned, seeing his bag of doritos crushed. He could hear you snicker outside the sheet as you walked away and growled, “Watch it. Yours are still in here, _____.”
You opened a drawer as he finally came out as well and began rifling through his bag, pulling out the pair of shorts he’d packed. When you turned around with a pair of soft shorts in your hands, you found him standing awkwardly in the middle of your room again and laughed. “I’ll go change in the bathroom. I gotta use it anyway. I’ll be right back.”
Your footsteps receded down the hall and he raced to get changed before you came back. His sweats landed on his backpack and he shrugged at himself. What did it matter, so long as they weren’t on your floor?
The sound of the sink reached his ears just as he was climbing back into the fort, frowning at his crushed chips even as he shoved a handful into his mouth. He was so gonna make you pay for a new bag, especially because you had laughed. The door creaked open and the flap shifted, and he almost choked on his chips as he realized just how short your shorts were. Were your legs always that long? And smooth? And pretty? Shit.
“How are your chip fragments?” you joked as you made yourself comfortable beside him again. Your hair fanned out behind you and you gathered it up off the base of your neck, twisting it around so that it spread out above you instead. How the fuck was the back of your neck sexy*? 
He was so screwed.
“Uh,” he replied. Smooth, Satori. Shaking his head, he tried to gather his thoughts and focus them literally anywhere else. It worked. Sort of. “Pointy. You owe me a new bag.”
You scoffed, smiling at the car full of vacationing teenagers on the laptop. “There’s like four other bags in here. Quit whining.”
But he wasn’t giving it up, throwing his bag into the corner and hopefully out of the way of your carelessness. Settling behind you like he had before, he once again left space between you, afraid now of how his body might react if he didn’t. “No, all of them suck.”
You definitely noticed the gap and wondered if he was just waiting for you to take the initiative, so you did. Before he could blink, you were once again molded to his chest, head tucked under his chin and knees folded around his. He tensed, fingers curling into a fist while he willed himself to chill.
His arm came down around you again, but you could feel how stiff he was. When you made to move forward again, to give him space, his arm locked, even pulling you back again and you grinned. With his arm now lit up properly by the light of the laptop, you realized you could see the tattoos more clearly, and began to trace the stars and fish on his arm.
“Aren’t these the spirit fish from Avatar?” you asked, skimming over the white and black koi. It was a watercolor piece, lacking the heavy lines like the ones on his other arm, and you felt him nod against the top of your head. “They’re gorgeous. Who’s your artist?”
“A friend of mine in Miyagi did those,” he answered, watching you continue to trail up his arms. Goosebumps were raising the fine hairs all over his body, your touches so gentle and intimate, your focus rapt. Higher up near his elbow was what appeared to be two jolly rogers, but they weren’t the normal ones. “Those are from a pirate manga I read in Jump,” he said before you could ask, and you smoothed your hand over them before sliding it back up near his hand.
His heart skipped a beat when your fingers curled into his palm, hesitating before you slipped them between his. He was sure you could feel his heart pounding away in his chest, unaware that you couldn’t because yours was racing fast enough that you were lightheaded. Folding his fingers down over your hand locked them together, but you didn’t try to pull away. If anything, you tried to cuddle up closer to him, dragging your hands so that they were pressed to your chest. It was the most intimate thing he had experienced in recent memory and if his heart didn’t slow down it was going to explode.
The movie wasn’t holding his interest and a new question cropped up in his mind, one he had wondered more than once before tonight and he couldn’t figure out why he thought of it now, but he latched onto it because otherwise he really thought he was going to combust. Besides, it would ease some of his insecurity if he got an answer.
“What took you so long to set this up, anyway? I kind of thought you had changed your mind for a while,” he said, staring at the screen. He was sort of taking it in, an anchor point so he didn’t get lost in his thoughts.
Your chest rumbled against his hand when you hummed, and your answer was so mundane and rational that he almost laughed. “Well a part of it was wanting to get to know you a bit before we did this. Didn’t want to invite a total stranger to spend the night, after all. And then it was just a matter of waiting for my roommates to freakin’ leave.”
“Oh, are your roommates actually gone*?” he asked in surprise. He had thought they were just out for the night and would be home-- probably not soon, given the time, but still. “Like, for the weekend?”
You hummed again in agreement, twirling the ends of your hair absently around your fingers. You were locked onto the movie, absorbed as Leatherface chased one of the characters he didn’t care about through the yard. He fell quiet, thinking you wanted to watch uninterrupted, but then you asked, “That’s alright, right? They would have just wanted to join in otherwise and they can’t stand horror movies either, so they would’ve just talked through it.”
Exactly like he was doing, he realized, and his face grew hot. Hopefully he hadn’t already annoyed you. He nodded, responding in a much quieter voice. “It’s fine. Was just surprised, I guess.”
For a while, neither of you said anything and Tendo managed to focus on the movie, feeling you jump and twitch every once in a while at scares you weren’t expecting. Unfortunately, those movements were brushing against areas that he really didn’t need them too and your shorts did nothing to diminish the curve of your ass against him or the slowly growing hard on he was getting. It didn’t help that every time he shifted even a little you would just follow him, as if he wasn’t pinned by your hand holding his.
But shit, if he didn’t move soon he was going to be screwed. The bathroom-- that would get him out of there before he embarrassed the fuck out of himself.
It was too late, though. You flinched and ground your ass back into him and he groaned before he could help it. You froze, he froze, he just really wanted to die.
“I-- Sorry. I’m really sorry,” he said, tugging at his hand to try and escape. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but the best option was probably to leave and transfer to a school in a whole different country. He could already hear your words now, an echo of so many times before, the sting of disappointment a familiar feeling around his heart.
“I’m sorry, Tendo. I just don’t see you that way.”
It was because he was a freak with a weird name and creepy eyes and-- fuck. It was high school all over again, being rejected by someone he genuinely thought liked him only to find out they were using him to get to Ushijima or pretending to as a fucking joke, only this time Ushijima wasn’t around and he had really gotten himself into it by agreeing to any of this.
But you were refusing to let his hand go, holding so tight he thought his fingers might break, saying his name until he came back down from his panicked high.
“Tendo, Tendo, calm down, please,” you were begging. You had rolled onto your back, unable to sit up because you were using both your hands to keep him from jumping up and taking the whole fort down. You could see it on his face when he finally heard you, wide vermillion eyes locking with yours while his heart continued to race.
He remained propped up on his elbow, ready to run at the first opportunity, and you almost felt bad for antagonizing him as much as you had. If you had known your teasing was going to get him this riled up, you would have tried a different tactic-- or not tried it at all. Maybe you had pushed too far too soon, and the skittish look in his pretty eyes worried you that you had ruined it.
“It’s alright, Tendo,” you said, trying to keep your voice quiet and soothing. It felt an awful lot like you were dealing with a wary animal-- like a coyote or a fox. When the insistent tension in his arm faded is when you relaxed your death grip on his fingers. 
The sound of the movie was too loud in the unnatural silence between you, and you rolled over to turn it down. When it was only a background buzz, you turned back to him. He was still staring at you without blinking, his eyes devoid of the panic from earlier but now they were eerily blank.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, deadpan. He flinched when you took his hand again, forehead scrunching in confusion. “I don’t understand. There’s no way you-- What are you doing?”
It was your turn to be confused, pursing your lips at him. He sounded so lost-- and wary again-- like a child. For the first time, you wondered what his childhood had actually been like. He talked an awful lot about Ushiwaka and Semi, and the volleyball club in general, but you heard nothing outside of that. It made you suspicious now.
“What am I doing?” you parroted, finally sitting up. Your joined hands fell into your lap and you stared down at them, petting the back of his hand with your free one. “Do you not want me to?”
His words were stuck in his throat, trapped by the lump there, and he swallowed thickly. His mouth felt like cotton, and he shook his head, croaking out, “It isn’t that. I just don’t understand why.”
“Why what?” you asked, gentle amusement in your voice. There was no teasing, no malicious undertones that he could hear, like you were waiting to spring the final part of the joke on him. And he was listening for it. After years of dealing with it, he had learned to recognize it in people’s words and on their faces. The way their lips would curl and their eyes would narrow just before cruelty would spew from their mouths, he knew the tells and you--
Had none.
There was nothing but open curiosity and nervousness-- and hope. A lot of hope swirled in your eyes and he swallowed again. He was just going to disappoint you. If not tonight then tomorrow, if not tomorrow then next week. It was going to happen--
“Why do you like me? How do you like me? I’m-- weird. And you’re--” He gestured frantically up and down at all of you. You weren’t anything he was-- a freak. With freaky eyes and a freaky name and a freaky personality.
“I-- um,” you said, and you couldn’t help but smile. There was clearly a lot of baggage with him, and his questions made that obvious. It was likely too much to unpack tonight, especially when you were still only just getting to know each other. Reassurance was what he needed, and that was something you could offer on the spot. “You’re funny...and sweet and...very good looking. Your eyes are so pretty. Um, there’s also the fact that you’re the only person who would watch these movies with me, which earns you a lot of points, in my opinion,” you said, tapping your lips as you stared up at the ceiling.
Your face was on fire as you listed things off the top of your head, your throat tight with anxiety as you wondered what he would say in response. They were all surface level things for now, but you knew underneath the armor that there was a lot more to Tendo, and you hoped you had a chance to discover it.
He groaned low in his throat, not from disgust but from a deep seated need to believe you meant those things. His forehead met your shoulder, his fingers squeezing yours. He didn’t fight it when you eased back down, following after you without a word, leaving his face hidden in your neck. He was still trying to gather his thoughts and calm his overworked heart. It would be so easy to reject you and be on his way, to return home and beat himself up for letting himself get too close and too comfortable with you when he knew nothing would come of it.
Except something had come of it and he wasn’t sure what to do now. Semi and Ushijima always told him he was too closed off and that someone was going to come around who actually liked him and his ‘weird ass’ and that he was going to lose that chance because of some stupid high school assholes. Was he though? He wanted to believe you, wanted to trust you, and slowly he relaxed, his stress leaving him in a long, tired exhale.
“You mean it?” he whispered against your neck, and you could feel his lashes tickle your skin when he blinked. His arm was heavy where his hand rested on your stomach, fingers intertwined with yours, and you squeezed his hand as tight as you could.
“I do. I like you and really want a chance to get to know you better,” you whispered back, and it suddenly felt like no one existed but the two of you, protected from everything in the world outside by a few sheets and each other's warmth. There would be things to discuss and hiccups to overcome, but you could worry about those tomorrow. In that moment, all you wanted was to prove to Tendo you wanted him.
Maybe it was your words, whispered softly into the dark, or your hand gripping his for dear life, or the way you let him cling to you like a lifeline, or maybe it was a combination, but when he pulled back from his hiding place and found you staring at him, he slotted his lips against yours without thinking. Your lips parted almost immediately, free hand sliding out from between your bodies to tangle in the close cropped hair at the nape of his neck and you used it to pull yourself closer. 
When your tongue poked out to glide across the seam of his lips, he let you in on a breath, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. His eyes were squeezed shut tight as your tongue met his, praying that what was happening wasn’t a dream, and he wasn’t expecting it when you gasped and pulled away all of a sudden.
His eyes popped open and he stared down at you with panic. “What? Did I do something wrong?”
“I-- forgot you have a tongue ring,” you said, and the laughed. “Fuck, that’s hot.”
He blinked like an owl, eyes wide as he processed your words. It wasn’t something that he had ever expected to hear in his life, let alone from the girl he was half-making out with in a freakin’ pillow fort. He suddenly wondered if his life had turned into a Shounen Jump manga.
“Well, so are you,” he said, and leaned in for another kiss.
It was kind of hot to see him confident and you felt heat pool in your stomach, starting to bleed further down as his tongue slipped into your mouth again. He tasted like the root beer he had been drinking all night, and you couldn’t resist toying with the piercing, swirling your tongue around it and listening to him moan against your mouth. 
Your shirt had ridden up your stomach as you moved around, trying to get closer to him, and neither of you realized it until Tendo’s hand smoothed over your skin. He froze mid-kiss, waiting for your reaction, and was unsurprised when your hand grabbed his.
What he didn’t expect was for you to guide it upwards, letting go when you hit your ribs to cup his cheek. Pulling back just enough that he could speak against your lips, he asked, “Are you sure?”
“Frankly, Tendo,” you said, and kissed him again before you continued, “I haven’t wanted anyone this bad in forever. Even if we wake up tomorrow and change our minds, I am fucking sure right now.”
He groaned, letting his hand hike your shirt up a little higher until his hand cupped under your breast. He wasn’t sure when you had taken your bra off, or maybe you hadn’t been wearing one the whole time, but there was nothing impeding his skin from caressing yours. Your breast was so soft in his hand, topped by a pretty pink nipple that he couldn’t resist pinching. You mewled underneath him, pulling your shirt up to uncover your other breast and he moved to that one, doing the same and feeling your nipple harden at his touch.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he rasped, gazing down the length of your body. Your thighs were clenched, and his hand migrated lower, fingertips skimming over your skin.
The heat that was pooling earlier erupted when they met the waistband of your shorts, but he paused, looking unsure again.
“Tendo, I’ll show you how much I want this,” you whispered and grabbed his hand. He was still hesitant, looking at your face as you slid his hand into your panties, and his eyes widened.
“You’re so wet,” he groaned, his fingers gliding over your soaked lips, spreading your slick all over them. His fingers quickly found your clit, circling it and you squeezed his hand between your thighs, hips jerking. “All because of me? I’m flattered.”
Teasing at your soaked opening, he waited for you to balk but you only twitched, panting against his lips before he sunk one finger in, your walls parting easily. You moaned and he swallowed it in a kiss, his tongue filling your mouth again. It wasn’t long before he was fitting a second finger, crooking them up and grazing your sweet spot, his thumb taking over massaging your clit as he pumped them inside you. Your arousal was already high enough that you could feel your orgasm coming on, and you pulled away to announce it.
“T-Tendo, gonna--” You gasped when he forced them in deeper, a mischievous smirk on his face as he prodded your cervix. “How-- fuck, your fingers are so long,” you whined, toes curling.
“Think you can take one more?” he asked, already fitting the tip of a third finger in. But it was only when you nodded, tears pricking the corners of your eyes that he slipped it in. Your teeth dug into your lip before they parted in a soundless cry.
The coil snapped on the first thrust and he groaned, drinking in your face as he tipped you over the edge. No one had ever cum so prettily for him before and he wanted to see it again. 
But only if you wanted it. His cock throbbed painfully in his shorts when he pulled his fingers from your twitching hole, feeling you shudder against him. Examining his glistening fingers in the screen light, he slid one experimentally into his mouth and moaned. “You taste so good, princess.”
You gasped at the pet name, a warmth unrelated to the one between your legs blooming in your chest. He said it was such reverence that you flushed, hoping he’d say it again at some point. Never had anyone called you that before, at least in that context.
When he laid back down beside you, his erection brushed against your leg and he stifled a groan. He was wearing boxers but the friction against his cock was still a pleasurable sensation. Not as much as your hand might be--
Speaking of hands, he nearly jumped out of his skin when you cupped him, squeezing and kneading up the length of him confined in his clothes. A shaky breath ripped out of him, the result of him barely containing a moan, and his long fingers wrapped around your wrist to stop you.
“That’s alright, _____. You don’t have to--” But you weren’t listening and the pressure felt too good. His head fell back, eyes fluttering closed, content to let you literally massage his dick until you started tugging at his shorts. He stopped you more insistently then, pulling your hand away. “Wait a second. Let me get ‘em off since you’re so eager, princess.”
He pulled his shirt over his head first, because it was getting way too hot in there anyway, and then kicked his shorts and boxers off into the dark corner. His cock bobbed against his stomach as he rolled onto his side again, leaking precum already. 
Your hand was soft against his stomach, roaming over the hard planes of his abs and down further, until it wrapped lightly around his head.
And froze.
“What the-- Tendo, what are those?” you asked in a high pitched, startled tone. Before he could answer, you let go and rolled onto your back, exposing him to the light and you thought for sure you had died and gone to heaven. 
It wasn’t just his arms that were covered in ink. His shoulders, chest, and sides were all covered in it as well, swirls and splashes of color interrupted by splotches of black or white or skin. You could hardly make out what the images were in the flickering, inconsistent light, but you recognized flowers and circles, and on his pec you were pretty sure there was a scene of a lake bathed in moonlight. And as your eyes followed the path of colors down, you landed on the thing that had startled you in the first place.
“Those are--” you breathed, taking his cock into your hand again. There was a ball at the tip, covered in precum, and you knew if you traced down, you would find another just below the crown. Further down on his shaft were five horizontal barbells in a row, and you recognized it as a Jacob’s Ladder. “Fuck me.”
“Gladly,” Tendo quipped and pounced. He settled between your legs and tugged your shorts down over your hips, and you had to hold your legs up to let him pull them the rest of the way off. He was too tall to sit straight up without brushing his head against the ceiling, but he braced back on his arms when you grabbed his shaft again. He groaned when you fondled the ball below his crown, shuddering at the intense pleasure. It was one of the major reasons he’d gotten it- to enhance the sensations. But the feel of your fingers gliding over his tip, gathering the precum and nudging the ball was something else entirely. “Holy shit, that feels amazing.”
His voice sent shivers through you, deep and raspy and way too needy. But you were unsure of what would hurt him, so you kept your touches light, feeling his thighs tense under yours, his fingers squeezing your calves as he let you explore. Before long though, he was pulling your hand away, pinning it down at your side. “Can’t keep that up, princess. I need more, if you’re alright with it,” he said, letting his cock settle against your cunt. 
The piercings were warm and pronounced against your folds, and you shuddered when the ball under his head grazed your clit. The thought of them inside you, rubbing all along your walls as he fucked you was too much and you could feel yourself growing wetter, your pussy drooling for it.
“Yes, Tendo, please. I want it, I want to feel them inside me,” you begged, rocking your hips. The stimulation was mind blowing and your walls clenched, empty and needy for him to fill you up. And he would, his cock was huge-- he still had room for more piercings below the ones he had. You had no doubt you would be stretching to take him and you keened in the back of your throat.
“I want you to call me Satori, princess. And I need you to let me know if it’s uncomfortable,” he said, pressing the tip of his cock into your sopping hole. “Sometimes they make it hurt, but you’re so fucking wet I don’t think it will. You really like these, huh?”
You were really just answering his question as you said yes, but a stream of them fell out of your mouth as he pushed the rest of his cock inside you, encouraging him to continue. The stretch was so good, your walls splitting easily for him, and you could feel every ball just like you had imagined grazing against your walls. The ball at his slit rested snugly against your cervix, and you didn’t even realize you were screaming as you came, hips jerking in his hands as he let you ride it out.
He was staring at you with what could only be awe, his mouth slack and eyes wide with surprise. “Holy fuck, princess, did you just cum?”
Your breaths were coming in pants as your mind spun, trying to come down from the unexpected high. It came on so suddenly you had no time to prepare, and tears slid down your cheeks. “F-Feels so good,” you whispered, fingers digging into the blanket beneath you. “Satori, oh my god.”
“Are you alright? We can stop--” he said, but you shook your head frantically, locking your ankles around his back, and he laughed under his breath. You sure were something else. He knew for a fact no one had ever come just from him sliding into them and a swell of pride filled his chest. “No? Alright, whatever you want, princess. Can I move?”
This time you nodded and he was slow as he pulled back, making sure you were okay. You were so tight around him from your orgasm, your walls fluttering with overstimulation, but your back arched when he stuffed himself back in, a breathy moan slipping out of you. Hiking your legs higher up on his hips, he bent over you, gathering your hands and pinning them above your head, lacing his fingers with yours. His lips met yours as he thrust into you slowly, grinding deep and stifling a moan. Once again you were playing with his tongue ring, flicking it as you suckled on his tongue. The fort-- and probably the room-- was filled with the wet slap of his hips on yours every time he drove his cock into you, drowning out the low buzz of the forgotten movie still playing. He was being careful, waiting for you to stop being so sensitive, and he knew you were ready when you arched into his chest and pulled away.
“So good, Satori,” you murmured against his lips, hips rising to meet his. Your eyes were glazed and fucked out, tears still flowing and you could already feel the start of another orgasm, but he was moving too slow. The drag and pull of his piercings had almost all of your attention, the ball at his tip constantly tapping your cervix, making your toes curl with every thrust. “You’re so big, and those-- fuck-- piercings feel so good inside me. I can feel them all everywhere.”
He snickered darkly at that and kissed your cheek. “You wanna feel even better, kitten?” he whispered into your ear, nipping the shell. He could feel you nod against his cheek, nails digging into his hands where he kept them pinned above your head, and then he was letting them go and pulling out of you. You whined, staring up at him in dismay, but he already had your thighs in his hands, prodding you to roll over. “Trust me, pretty girl. On your stomach, just like that.”
It was a bit difficult to get comfortable, but he grabbed a pillow and jammed it beneath your hips before settling with his legs outside of yours. And when you shook your ass, begging him to hurry up, he couldn’t deny you, not when he wanted to be back inside your tight heat so badly.
“Holyshitholyshitholyshit,” you whined, high-pitched and breathless as he finally filled you again. His thighs trembled as he forced himself not to just stuff himself into you, you were so tight. And the way you were crying and shuddering beneath him wasn’t helping, especially when you gasped his given name like a prayer. “*Satori, oh my god.”
If you thought those piercings felt good before, you were in heaven now. Everyone of them dragged slowly over the front wall of your cunt, grinding into your sweet spot and you had to bite the pillow to keep from outright screaming. And he was so, so, so big inside you, but with your legs trapped between his there was nothing you could do but take him. Against your will, your legs kicked, hitting him in the back as you wailed into the pillow, tears streaming down your cheeks in an endless flood. 
He snarled into your ear as he planted his elbows beside your head, plastering himself to your back. “You are so fucking tight, princess. How do those piercings feel now?”
“So good so good so good,” you babbled, circling your hips back on his dick to get any friction you could. The orgasm that had been building came back ten fold just from him hilting inside of you and you knew that if he fucked you like this you would be cumming in seconds. “‘Tori, please move, please please please.”
Your needy begging made his cock twitch and you whimpered as he slowly pulled out of you and pushed back in, intentionally slow to let you feel everything. The pleasure was ebbing and flowing, building and falling because he wasn’t moving fast enough, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him to go faster, not when you could feel him so clearly. Every time he bottomed out, he made sure to grind down into you, nudging your cervix with the tip of his cock so he could feel you clench suddenly around him. It never failed to make him moan, your slick walls gripping him so tightly as he dragged himself back out. He wanted to make your pussy his new home and barring that he was going to fuck the shape of his cock into you.
“Tell me what you need to make you cum, princess,” he whispered into your ear. He knew what he needed, but he was still learning what would make you feel good. 
Releasing the pillow from your teeth, the first thing you did was moan out his name again as he buried himself inside you again. You were so close to cumming, your clit throbbing with need and if he even brushed it you were going to be gushing all over him. You gasped as he thrust a little harder than before.
“If you don’t answer me I’ll just keep going like this, kitten. I can go for hours, if you want,” he whispered, warm against your ear. That made you twitch underneath him, and he chuckled. “You like the sound of that? We’ll try it another time. Right now, I need you to tell me where you want me to cum and how I can make you cum, okay?”
His words were dark and sweet and coaxing, and you were sure you had never whined so much in your whole life. “Touch me, please, Satori. I wanna cum all over your cock and pretty piercings while you cum in me, oh fuck.”
Bracing himself on his elbow, he forced his hand beneath your stomach, aided by you lifting your hips, and you whimpered when he finally, finally brushed your clit. It was all it took and you had to bite the pillow again as you creamed all over his cock, whiting out and screaming into it as you shuddered and jerked. He eased you through it, leaving his cock buried inside you while he fondled your clit, listening to you whimper and moan. It was a good thing you had hidden your face because you would surely have woken the whole complex up otherwise. 
He groaned into your ear as you massaged his cock, so tight that you launched him into his own orgasm, cumming inside you as you had asked. He remained still inside of you even after you had relaxed, leaving small kisses all over your hair before he leaned down to rest his head on the pillow. He had fucked you so slowly that he hadn’t broken a sweat, and yet he was still out of breath and panting. His head swam for several more minutes, until you shifted beneath him. But you didn’t move like you wanted him to get off.
Instead, you turned to look at him, a lazy, blissed out grin on your face and said, “Holy shit, that was so amazing. I’ve never cum so many times.”
“So were you. I’ve never made someone cum so many times,” he admitted, and replayed the way you came just because he had filled you. That was something he was unlikely to ever forget. He brushed some hair out of your face before leaning in to kiss you. It was slow and gentle, belying how tired the two of you now were, and he could see you were ready to fall asleep. “Gonna pull out of you now, princess. Need you to stay nice and relaxed, okay?”
You nodded, your eyes closing and winced as he slid from your ruined hole. A stream of cum followed after and he took a moment to appreciate it, allowing a smirk to steal across his face. There was no doubt you were his now, at least for a little while, and he committed it all to memory before gently gripping your shoulders. “We should really get cleaned up, then we can go to sleep.”
You grumbled cutely but let him help you up, the both of you stumbling blindly to the bathroom. Sleepiness was a thick fog, and you got cleaned up as quickly as possible before returning to the room. The two of you stood in the doorway, looking at the mess of nonsense covering the bed, and then you looked at Tendou.
“Let’s just sleep in there,” you suggested, taking him by the hand. He let you lead him over, watching the way your ass swayed as you crawled into the fort for hopefully the final time that night. In the few minutes it had taken him to get in after you, you had already pulled a blanket over your legs and were setting up the next movie to play. Not that you would be watching it, but he understood it was the principle of the thing. This was a movie marathon and it just wouldn’t do to fall asleep without being in the middle of one.
Once he’d gotten comfortable behind you, you rolled over and splayed out across his chest, startling him. He had expected to curl himself around your back while you went to sleep, but now you were tracing what lines you could see on his chest in the thin light. His hand rested on your waist, the other tucked behind his head, and he closed his eyes, comfortable with your warmth and weight in his arms.
“Satori,” you murmured, your hand falling flat right over the picture of the lake. “I really do like you.”
He laughed at that, and you could feel it rumble in your ear, deep in his chest. He was clearly as tired as you were, but you needed to say it. There was something in your half asleep brain that would not stop telling you to say it, and you were in no position to fight it.
“I figured as much, princess. Three orgasms are hard to fake, especially around a dick as big as mine,” he answered, and you blanched for a moment before erupting into laughter. He watched you through narrow eyes, fondness bubbling in his chest, until you settled back down against him. “You’re absolutely gorgeous, you know that?”
“So’re you,” you murmured. The nagging had stopped now that you had said what you needed too, and you were falling asleep quickly. “Don’t be gone when I wake up tomorrow, okay?”
“It already is tomorrow, and I’ll be here. There’s nowhere else I wanna be anyway,” he answered, letting his eyes close as well. With your comfortable weight on his chest and your even breathing mixing with the buzzing of the movie in the background in his ears, he drifted to sleep in no time, for once not worrying about what tomorrow would bring.
Tumblr media
⇥ masterlist 
⇥ taglist: @visaintes​, @kunimwuah​
3K notes ¡ View notes
Text
Love Cuts Deep
Chapter 1- She Ran With Wolves
Bucky Barnes x powered (f)reader Series Re-write (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)
Summary: You’re a survivor, always have been and always will be. After narrowly escaping the clutches of Hydra years ago, you’ve been keeping to the shadows for as long as time allows. With Hydra suddenly exposed and your secrets in the open, you’re on the hunt for the last part of your past, but is he ready to see you again?
Warning: angst, talk of violence, some fluff mixed in (a little); way more to come
Masterlist
Side note- This is a TFATWS Series Re-write!!! Obviously lol, anyways. Readers powers are heavily inspired by a certain Marvel badass and I just thought her powers would work so well for this. Also they’re cool as fuck.
Tumblr media
September, 15th 2013
Location: S.H.I.E.L.D Headquarters, Washington D.C.
This recent project Fury had sent her on was beginning to make itself quit the annoyance for Natasha this past of couple weeks, granted he always gave her the toughest assignments, understanding that no one else can dig up as much dirt as the Black Widow can.
But this? This was different, the target in question was practically a ghost, a legend among the ones lucky, or possibly unlucky enough to have been made aware of this dangerous individual. But no matter how much she asked around from her various secretive resources on the problem in question, this mystery person was simply just rumor to them. Or perhaps too much of a sour subject to seek into any further. Although one thing was always prevalent, people were scared.
But why?
The assassin leans back in her chair, a thoughtful expression crossing over her features as she stares bitterly down at the top secret file gifted to her by Fury himself. Suddenly a door closes, she shuts the file in an instant, only to be greeted with the apologetic face of Steve as he walks past her.
“Sorry. Fury told me you would be in here.” Begins Steve as he takes the nearby couch, something small and metal in his right hand, “Said you were assigned some impossible case. How’s it going so far?”
Letting out a jaded sigh, she shifts her gaze over to the window, “The absolute vagueness of this person is....frustrating to say the least. All I’ve been able to gather is that they’ve been part of some top secret experimentation on pregnant women. Somehow they’re involved with it....I just, gotta figure out how.” She adds with a conflicted expression dancing across her features.
Steve hums in thought, “Sounds complicated.”
“You have no idea.” Mutters Natasha unenthusiastically as her green irises shift back down to the annoying little file.
Steve palms the object in his hand before gaining his friends attention once again, “Here. Fury told me to give this to you.” Her brows furrow in thought as she reaches over and quickly accepts the strange hard drive looking object, “I think this will help. It has the location of the target and who they are. That’s it.....Well, the last reported location.”
“How did he?” She wonders aloud, face suddenly breaking out into an irked grin, “Fury you son of a bitch, about time I found a legitimate lead.”
——
Sitting on her comfortable apartment couch, Natasha sifts through the various encrypted files from the hard drive that’s currently plugged into her laptop. So far she’s spent about two hours breaking through the various encrypted file blockers and now at long last has finally made some real progress.
Studying the brightly glowing screen, she moves her finger, clicking another coded link that reads -V13X11- she’s immediately greeted with a black screen and the slightly blurred picture of a woman’s face who’s looking rather stoic and fearless against the camera flash. Her eyes are set and hard as stone, dark and almost angry behind lips that show the ghost of a forced smile. She’s noticeably an overall attractive woman, in kind of a terrifying and intimidating sort of way, like looking at a fierce lioness standing valiantly against a foe; nonetheless she stares defiantly at the person behind the camera. 
Her eye color, weight, date of birth, and presumably patient number, that's printed in big bold letters 00X13 on the glowing screen, right below her squared portrait. Furrowing her brows, Natasha scrolls down to see about a paragraph long of personal information given about the woman. Including, to the red heads tremendous surprise, a birth name, Y/N Valerious.
Oddly enough, the name indeed sounds a tad bit familiar, though she can’t quit place from where.
The file states that she was raised in a facility on the outskirts of Surinda, Russia; someplace in Siberia, close to the heart of the mammoth country. Trained by the organization Hydra and summitted into inhuman experimentation by the specific facility that held her, however the rest is all encrypted and impossible to translate into something comprehensible much to Natasha’s utter disappointment. 
Huffing in frustration, she slips out the hard drive before shutting down her laptop and slamming it shut. The room is darker by now with the sun gone, and tomorrow it appears that Natasha will be off to Sweden to confront this woman, Y/N, in hopes of gathering valuable intel into the people who created her, and any important information regarding her troubled past. 
If she’s willing to comply.
——
Closing your laptop, you stand and wander over to the opened window to stretch before taking a deep breath of freshly brisk winter air. The land here in Uppsala, Sweden is more beautiful and peaceful then you could have ever imagined since renting an apartment two months ago. In fact, this is probably the longest you’ve ever stayed in one spot since abandoning the life of an assassin many years ago.
Though you know it won’t be much longer until you leave again, but you can’t just yet, there happens to be a certain agent on her way to find you. Fury unknowingly received your encrypted hard drive with opened arms, foolishly under the impression it was sent from an old friend when he reached out for answers into your complicated history. Then when the Black Widow eventually clicked open your link, bam, you could see everything she was nosily sifting through. Everything you wanted her to see. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if something dramatic happened to the people over in D.C. at this point, idiots, all of them.
For the past couple years S.H.I.E.L.D has become sort of a troubling snooping nuisance for you, constantly delving their way into your relatively uneventful lifestyle every couple of months, meddling around to figure out if you’re still currently active for Hydra and if not, are you willing to pay for your crimes or to join them like she did. Definitely not on your to do list any time soon.
Watching as a small black bird zips by, you quickly shut your window and close the dark colored curtains to block yourself from the rest of the chaotic world. Hastily making your usual rounds about the apartment to be absolutely certain all the possible openings are locked. Soon after you head for bed, ready to face the ex-assassin whenever she arrives in the following days ahead.
-
Seated at your kitchen table, you casually sip at your steaming hot tea while watching security footage from downstairs from when you hacked into their system, the same night you began renting the place. As expected, the notorious red head slips her way into the building and up the four flights of stairs until finally a light knock is heard at your old wooden door.
So she wants to do this cleanly.
Switching off the device, you stuff it in a nearby drawer before calmly walking down the tiny hallway over to the frontdoor and opening it, lock off and all. Her green eyes blink in curious surprise as you show her no indications of aggression; she’s about your height if not maybe slightly smaller, thick scarf and a winters coat about her person as she holds a normal sized black bag in her right hand. No doubt a gun concealed somewhere close, a light precaution in case things go south from here.
Trailing your wary gaze from her travel bag to her pale face, you raise an intrigued brow, “I assume you’re here for me?” You ask with the tinge of a confident Eastern European accent as she slowly nods, eyes calculated and calm as she studies your mellow yet slightly defensive stance.
Pursing plush lips together, she casually shrugs with a light hearted smile, “I only realized you must have sent that hard drive when I arrived in London...”
“Well I’ve gotten rather bored running away from your persistent bastards over in America.” You interrupt before opening up your door even wider, gifting her an open invitation instead of a fight, “Come in. I assume we have much to discuss.”
Following you to the table, she sets her bag on the closest chair as you take another sip from your tea. Cautious eyes trained on her every move as she shifts a bit uncomfortably in her chair, “So, I assume you’re not here to sell me that pretty bag of yours. Not that I’d want it.”
She smirks at your blunt sarcasm, pleased to know you’ve at least got a sense of humor after all you’ve endured, “No. I’m here to learn about who created you and if there are any more. Y/N, I’m well aware of how dangerous you truly are...but given the fact that you’ve had time to adjust, and let me into your home willingly. I came seeking answers. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Folding your hands together, you tilt your head at her thoughtfully, “Well that’s good. I didn’t really want killing the Black Widow on my conscience, though I’d speculate a few would be relieved.” You quip with a playful smirk before your face turns serious again, “I’ll tell you about the fuckers who made me. Then you leave and never bother me again. Understood?” You add in almost a growl.
Handing you a polite smile, she nods in agreement, “Of course. You have my word.” You take another sip of your tea as she reaches into her bag, a beige file suddenly plants itself atop your kitchen table. “This is the only surviving file on you. It’s enough, but there’s too many cracks that need to be filled. I need to know how they conducted the experiments and who else survived them. This is important for the safety of S.H.I.E.L.D and the rest of the world. Y/N, we’re trying to make sure something like this can never happen again. And well, any secrets on Hydra always helps.”
Setting your cup down, you smirk, “This should be filled with liquor if I’m going to be spilling some top secret Hydra business of this velocity.” You muse, setting aside your mug, your face quickly shifts to a more serious expression. “For starters this isn’t a very heartwarming story.”
“Neither is mine.” Begrudgingly admits the ex-assassin.
“Well, at least we have something in common then, Black Widow.” You assert with a pointed look before leaning back against the barred wood of your chair, thinking of where to start first. Your eyes trail over to the window as you begin your story, “This place, where they kept us. The scientists working for Hydra wanted to test out special DNA altering serums on the embryos of willing participants. Well, we weren’t willing....but they targeted the poor, feigning a program that would pay these mothers-to-be thousands if they participated. Plus a comfortable place to stay for awhile.” You reveal before taking another sip of your tea, “You see, I’m not originally from Russia, my home was some nameless village in Eastern Europe that I’ve forgotten the name of by now, it was so long ago. But anyways, I guess fate has a funny way of administering it’s business to the ones seeking safety in times of struggle. So my mother...” You take another sip of your tea to help clear your throat and head a little bit, God you hate talking about this.
Setting it down again, you continue, “Mine accepted. They took her and twenty-two others to this facility deep in the woods. This place was practically a paradise for them...” You chuckle miserably, “soon enough the scientists pumped them full of drugs and began their altering of the embryos DNA, genetic codes, and whatever else they saw fit to mess with. Nine months later we came into this world kicking and screaming.”
“Shit.” Mutters Natasha in astonishment, fully engrossed in your story as she starts to realize maybe her upbringing wasn’t as fucked as yours.
“They monitored us for the first few months, waiting to see if anyone acted strange....nothing, to their utter disappointment. Soon they drew blood samples and as it turned out, we all had altered DNA from the serum. Just as they’d planned.”
Her brows furrow in puzzlement before she asks, “How’d you get your powers then? I don’t think I missed anything.” Insists your guest questionably as you shake your head.
“You didn’t. But you have to understand that as we grew older, all of us basically became tiny super soldiers as fucked as that is, not only did they change our genetic code for meddling with later on when we got older. But this serum was so well developed that it completely fused with the fetuses genetic code, only causing us to grow stronger as we aged from toddlers to three-year-old's and up. Testing even revealed that it slowed down our ageing process just like with Captain America. But it wouldn’t be effective till we reached our mid to late twenties.”
Natasha takes a moment to process your words before she nods in acknowledgment, “Y/N. It’s my understanding that this is a buried secret from the organization for good reason, it’s just....what year did this all take place? It’s not in any of the records I was able to dig up, not even in yours, nothing except for your date of birth.” States Natasha curiously, stopping you before you speak of anything else.
Nodding you lean your arms against the wooden table, leaning in a bit closer now, “1953, after World War ll when people where still recovering from the heavy aftermath while the Cold War was still raging on when well, you know.” Giving her a lopsided shrug, you glance from an old faded picture on the wall then back to her, “Lets just say Russia wasn’t exactly having a stellar time, nor was my mother for that matter.” You Conclude before aimlessly pursuing your lips together, “Which yes, makes me at around 60 years old. Don’t I look pretty.” You add, voice dripping in sarcasm.
Natasha’s eyes concede silent astonishment as she blinks back surprise, “Even after all these years doing what I do, meeting the people that I have. I’m still left speechless every once in awhile. Y/N I can’t even imagine what you’ve seen.” Reveals the red head honestly as her green irises flicker from your file then back up to you, a conflicted expression dancing across her features, “How did they...how did you gain your powers, aside from what the serum gave you in the process?”
An apprehensive sigh escapes freely from your lips while you lean back into the creaky old chair, a troubled look darkening your features as you avoid her intrigued gaze, “They waited until we were twelve before testing us....in the meantime we lived as normal children; learning, playing, and training to survive. You know, the typical stuff.” You add with a small breathy laugh, though no humor finds your eyes, “We had our mothers until a year before they began the experiments. But it wasn’t that terrible of a loss since they trained us to adapt to our environment and never fully depend on anyone but ourselves.....it’s sick. And I’m not even sure what they did to them, I guess I never will.”
She nods as you make a disgusted face, an acidic hatred rising in your chest at the thought of your childhood, “I’m sorry, I can’t even imagine how traumatic that must have been.”
“Oh believe me, it gets better.” You joke bitterly, “In pairs of two they tested us, putting us into rooms where two doctors would strap us down and stick a needle into our skin. After that, they waited until something dramatic happened. Oh, and it sure as fuck did.” You conclude with a sneer.
Biting her lip anxiously, Natasha asks anyway, “How many survivors?”
Scoffing, you shake your head in revulsion for what those doctors did to everyone, an angry expression soon crossing your features, “One.” You sourly mutter, “All my other friends died of the new serum they gave us, either right then and there on the table, or in the following days. You see, it was supposed to blend with our altered DNA to create something powerful out of it, something beyond humans normal capabilities. It just ended up horribly mutating everyone except for me.” You whisper, clear sadness and hatred coating your very words.
Your eyes stare sharply at the peeling table top paint, a frown on your lips as you take in a deep breath before continuing, “What they did to me....no one should have to go through something so goddamn agonizing, I was only a child, just a little girl in a terrible place whether I knew it or not....and you know how it affected me?” She slowly shakes her head no as you smile miserably, your brows furrowed in pain, “I was gifted with bone claws that retracted out of my knuckles and one from each of my feet.” You confirm, eyes suddenly darkening in fury, “And you know what those goddamn bastards did to me afterwards? Like I hadn’t suffered enough from the pain of it all, they pumped me full of liquid Adamantium. Turning my claws to solid metal, the fucking strongest material on earth. Right in the body of an eleven year old child!” You shout furiously as she flinches back at your outburst, blinking hard, you let out a heavy breath before leaning back into your chair in defeat.
Calm down, Y/N. It’s just a memory now.
Strong brows dent her clear skin in thought as you await a response, after a few long moments does she soon gather her racing mind, lacing her fingers together she raises a brow at you, “That doesn’t explain how you’ve survived so long. The years working for Hydra, they turned you into a weapon....yet you’ve escaped and haven’t been killed yet. Not even a scratch to be found.....well, at least that I can see.”
Turning to face the puzzled assassin, you give her a lopsided grin, your chill composure coming back to you quickly enough, “I didn’t just get claws from the enhanced serum that fucked with my genetic make-up, it completely heightened my humanly abilities. Suddenly I was stronger, faster, and all my senses felt like they were on overload. Best of it all, I came to realize I had accelerated healing capabilities. Who would have thought that their shitty inhuman experiments would have gone so horrendously, yet with the one miracle of an exception. Me.”
“I had figured that branch of Hydra was meddling on dangerous ground, I hadn’t realized the extent of what they were doing. Did they try making any more like you?” She wonders.
“I was the last. Since I was the only compatible vessel, they didn’t want to waste anymore time or money on others who could possibly fail.” You explain with a shrug, “I became one of their most treasured assets.”
Pursing her lips together, she gives a slight nod before revealing a different file from her bag, you watch as she pauses for a moment before opening it up, you quickly take notice of the many white papers pinned together. Some with encrypted symbols and words while others are in plain English. Your brows furrow as she flips the first page to reveal...
“I know I came asking for answers about classified information, but this won’t be a complete mission if I don’t ask you about your time with Hydra.” Proposes the red head cautiously while she studies your face for any hostile reactions, not getting anything but skepticism, she continues, “I understand you were very important to them. It’s recorded you’ve completed about three dozen kills over an active period of about thirty-seven years.”
You scoff before muttering, “So it would seem. They gave me my first mission in 1971...when I was 17.”
“Right, but that’s not exactly what I’m seeking.” Her eyes immediately trail down to the files, “I assume you must have seen this man at least once...” She flips another page over and pulls out a playing card sized photograph, she turns it around and slides it closer to you. Instantly you recognize who he is, but how did she?..
“I haven’t seen him in years, nor heard of him for that matter.” You mutter, though your tone shifts to a more aggravated one.
Noticing this difference, Natasha continues, “That’s the look of someone who has met him for less then friendly reasons. What happened to the Winter Soldier?” You take a long moment to study his stoic face of icy blue and white, and black; its when he was in the Cryostacis chamber, the place where they would freeze him to keep their Winter Soldier locked away until he was needed for a new mission. All that you can fully witness is his sleeping face, though you know exactly what he looks like up close and with no ice crystals in his dark hair.
Letting out a heavy sigh, you slide the photograph back over to her folder, “I met him when I was 25 in 1979, Hydra needed us for a duel mission somewhere in South Africa, they needed their best. We were tasked with locating and stealing some precious metal which we later learned was Vibranium, because apparently they had used the last of the Adamantium on me.” You reveal with a casual shrug, “It went relatively well as expected...and well, we worked with each other many times after that, until I escaped and he was sent to kill me in 2009.”
“You knew him for almost twenty-nine years. Do you know where he might be now?”
Scoffing, you almost laugh, “Even if I did, you’d never get him. But if I’d have to assume, he’s probably frozen in some cryo tank somewhere in the middle of Russia. Waiting to be let loose again so he can take out a new enemy of the state.”
“Right.” Nods the Black Widow as she closes up her files, her green irises quickly on you again, “Thank you for your time, and for the heavy material you spoke of.”
“It was a long time ago, someone else should remember what those fuckers did to innocent mothers and their children. No one in this entire world knows except for me, you, and the doctors I haven’t killed yet.” You growl with venom lacing your every word.
Soon you watch as she swiftly rises to her feet, as you do the same, “I wish you well then.” Affirms the Black Widow as you follow her lead to the door, she stands on the other side for a moment before asking, “Is there any way I could find you again?”
Leaning against the door frame, you break out into a knowing smirk as she stands waiting expectantly, “If you’re lucky, you’ll never see me again. Goodbye agent Romanoff.” And with that do you gently close the door, leaving her in the hallway with a plethora of useful information, but still nothing significantly useful on the Winter Soldier, now only time will tell if he ever happens to show up on her radar again. Hopefully not, she thinks doubtfully before turning on her heels and sauntering off down the hallway.
——
Almost two whole years had passed since last you’ve spoken to the assassin, in that time you’ve watched her speak on live television when Hydra had finally been exposed to the world and all their secrets let loose for the prying hungry eyes of the public.
Even some of your own information had been leaked, the world knew who you were now, what atrocities you’ve committed for the organization during your time with them and that you’ve been M.I.A since 2009. Now you’re on an international watchlist. Fantastic. Apparently some very important leaders of the world and other prestige family members alike aren’t very fond of yourself for murdering their adversaries or filthy rich husbands. 
But it’s not like you had a choice, Hydra would always alter your memories when they shocked you into forgetting who you even were; thus you’d complete a mission and a couple days or so later would your mind stitch itself back together again the best it could from the electrical trauma. Only the killing part would be a dark and fuzzy memory, thus revealing itself to you in bits and pieces at a time. Soon everything blurred together and you just complied or face getting electrocuted multiple times a session, until your eyes remained empty and dangerous.
Considering you’ve been on the run since that information was released, in this time, you’ve tracked down past agents and doctors alike who had wronged you, considering you now had full access to their recent history. Hence increasing your body count as you went from one country to the next, making the world a tad bit lighter with their darkness whipped from existence.
Although soon enough you became unsettled with the loads of information expunged from Hydra, your mind inevitably making a one eighty back to a certain broody super soldier from your complicated past. He must be in the world somewhere, living as a secret civilian or whatnot. He has to be. And you’ve decided to find him before someone else does.
Maybe it was curiosity, or the fact that he was like you and shared a bloody history with Hydra, but your instinctual drive to find the Winter Soldier eventually drew you the beautiful city of Bucharest, Romania. Although he didn’t make finding him effortless in the slightest, after endless days hacking into network databases looking for even a snippet of information. You found a lead.
Turns out airport security footage is very useful, even more so, footage from around the city’s grant center; and from there you were able to track him to Romania. Eventually after a couple of days in the city, you were able to catch a glimpse of him at the local market place and thus followed him to his little shitty apartment without him as so much as noticing.
Once he left again, you slipped inside and began your wait for his eventual return. But will he even want to speak with you? Does he even remember you? Your memories hadn’t been continuously whipped like his were, granted you were forced into cryo more then once and electroshocked into forgetting your memories. It eventfully stopped once they realized your mind would just heal itself into remembering again, so instead they threatened you with a tracking device deep into your skin tissue that would blow up if you tried to run.
Clearly you eventually found a way around this, as terrible of a memory it gave you.
——
Looking out the window, your ears suddenly pick up the sound of boots stealthily walking down the hallway, they’re incredibly light against the tiles outside, perhaps he somehow knows you’ve been following him. A moment later the scent of a man fills your nostrils and you know he’s inside the apartment. You could barely hear the door.
He’s silent as a mouse, nothing indicating he’s even there except for his rapidly thudding heartbeat that pounds anxiously against his strong chest; you slowly turn to face him. His hat from earlier is gone, dark blue eyes stare warily on you while soft breaths emit from his slightly parted lips. He’s not afraid, but he is nervous.
Folding your arms over your chest, you take a glance around the room, “Nice place.” You confirm casually, eyes back on the Winter Soldier in a second as the corner of your lips pull into a humored half grin, “I’m not here to complete some personal Vendetta against you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Then why are you here?” His voice is more curious then cold, maybe he can be reasoned with after all.
Taking a step forward, you shrug, “Wanted to make sure you aren’t still on their side.”
He keeps silent for a moment as you watch him watch you, “I’m done with them.” Mutters Bucky, disgust dripping off his words. That’s exactly what you wanted to hear. Progress.
“Good.” You add with the tiniest of smiles before motioning towards his little kitchen table, “Mind if we sit and talk? As, well...I guess civilians now.”
Studying your face for any indication of falseness and hostility, he’s pleasantly surprised when he finds none. Bucky takes off both of his gloves and sits, metal hand shinning in the low lighting. A threat or a precaution? Maybe he just wants it off?
You follow his example, and soon the two of you sit not even three feet away from each other. Both yourself and Bucky hold an awkward silence for a long moment as the tension in the room rises, shifting your gaze from the counter behind him, you don’t really notice as he trails his eyes over your face, “I remember you.” Reveals Bucky to your great surprise, your eyes falling onto him in an instant, “They sent us on missions together, until you left and they woke me up to kill you for it.”
Smiling, you let out a humored breath of air, “Turns out you didn’t miss me after all. I gave you a nice scar for your troubles though, you still have it?”
Bucky purses his lips into the tiniest of shadowy grins, although no real joy is shown, “It’s a thin little line across my left rib cage. Just barely reached my bone.” Yeah, and I would have if you didn’t punch me in the eye socket first, you think to yourself from when the Winter Soldier had tracked you down. But that’s a long story.
“Glad it’s healed and they didn’t have you come after me a second time. I don’t think I would have let you live again.”
He thinks hard for a second as he processes your words, “You let me live? The first time?”
“Well,” You serenely admit, “I couldn’t exactly kill you...I guess, well....I don’t really know why I didn’t kill you when I had the chance. Guess I’m not as ruthless as Hydra wanted.” You mumble with a conflicted frown, the two of you keep silent before you break the odd tension, “Doesn’t matter now. I heard about what happened in D.C. just like the rest of the world. Gotta say, I was wondering what everyone over there had been getting themselves into.”
“They leaked everything.” Mumbles Bucky with a knowing flash of insight within his dark restless eyes.
“I know.” You add with a slow nod, “I’ve been traveling more cautiously for the past year and a half now. You’d think they’d let us live in peace, of course not. But I guess it means the world knows what a piece of shit organization Hydra is. So that’s something.”
“Yes.” Agrees Bucky, eyes trailing from your fingerless gloves to your face, of course he remembers what hides beneath, “What happened to you since you left?
Fumbling with your fingers as they lay against his table, you turn you head to the window, the ghost of a smile dancing across your lips, “Surviving. You?”
He shifts his gaze back down to his metal hand as you turn to face him, “About the same I’d say.”
Leaning back against your creaky wooden chair, you hand him a small yet friendly smile, “Well then. What of us now? Two ex-assassins alone in the world. With nothing but our wit and fists to keep us afloat.” You add with a low chuckle, he doesn’t crack.
Losing your smile, the two of you keep silent as ghosts for a long moment before Bucky shifts uncomfortably in his seat, “I got some tea.” Replies the admittedly handsome man now since you have a moment to really look; the briefest hint of a grin revealing itself against his lips for only but a flash of a second. But you still see it.
Fumbling with your fingers you give him a pursed lip grin, “I like tea.”
341 notes ¡ View notes
junghelioseok ¡ 3 years
Text
clandestine. | 03
↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.
Tumblr media
◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 9.2k [3/6]
notes: this will likely be my last update of this fic until the new year, because i have two (2!!!) other fics that i’m planning to post in december, including another jungoo one, so! please look forward to those, and enjoy this chapter in the meantime! 
warnings: jk’s massive noona kink: a recurring yet warranted warning, me absolutely fucking up everything about korea’s geography probably, semi-public? fingering???, jungkook....... shall we say, rocks the boat, there is one (1) dick pic but no one’s complaining
⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 
Tumblr media
Monday - 11:27am
Kim Taehyung added you to the group: the great escape!!!!!! 🏝🚗💨
[11:27am] Taehyung: let’s gooooooooooo!!
[11:27am] Jisoo: ???
[11:28am] Lisa: go where?
[11:28am] Taehyung: parks lake house this weekend! we’re going on vacation!
[11:28am] You: hold up tae, we haven’t even asked our parents if we can have the house yet
[11:29am] Chimchim: oh yeah lmao
[11:29am] Chimchim: u wanna go ask noona??
[11:29am] You: nope
[11:30am] Chimchim: ugh, fine
[11:30am] Chimchim: u big baby
[11: 31am] You: 🙄
[11: 37am] Chimchim: they said yes!
[11:38am] Taehyung: LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
[11:38am] Minho: sweet 👍
[11:38am] Taemin: tight
[11:39am] Jungkook: dope
[11:40AM] Jisoo: you’re all idiots 🙄
Tuesday - 2:34pm
[2:34pm] Chimchim: i’ve secured the van
[2:34pm] Chimchim: for the trip i mean
[2:35pm] Taehyung: noice
[2:35pm] You: 10 people aren’t gonna fit in mom’s van, chim
[2:37pm] Jungkook: i can drive too
[2:37pm] Chimchim: 👍👍
[2:37pm] Chimchim: see? nothing to worry about
[2:38pm] Jungkook: yeah noona, nothing to worry about. nothing at all.
Wednesday - 9:49pm
[9:49pm] Taehyung: oh my god we need FOOD
[9:49pm] Lisa: you’re just realizing that now?
[9:50pm] Taehyung: shut up
[9:50pm] Taehyung: i have a cooler
[9:51pm] Lisa: and ice?
[9:51pm] Taehyung: ………… i will buy some ice
[9:52pm] You: there’s a grocery store on the way up that we always used to go to, we can stock up there
[9:52pm] Taehyung: 👍
[9:54pm] You: you also better remember to bring your own towels. and more than one change of clothing
[9:54pm] Taehyung: 👍👍
[9:55pm] Chimchim: yes, mom
///
The day of the trip finds you standing in the foyer, rifling through your purse to make sure you have all the essentials. Off in the distance, you can hear Jimin sprinting around frantically, catching the briefest glimpse of his ruffled blond hair before he disappears again into the depths of the house.
“Chim, I swear to god. Why didn’t you pack earlier?”
“I did!” your brother whines, poking his head out from the living room where his suitcase is lying wide open, belongings scattered in every direction. “It’s just that—oh, fuck. Do you have my toothbrush?”
“Why would I have your toothbrush?” you deadpan.
He ignores you, and not two seconds later, he lets out an excited shout. “Never mind! I found it!”
You sigh and rub your temples. The trip hasn’t even begun, yet you’re already feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. “I’m going outside,” you call to your brother, who grunts in acknowledgement. Opening up the front door, you drag your suitcase out onto the sun-drenched porch, relishing the welcome breeze that caresses your cheeks and whispers through your hair.
The rare moment of peace is broken almost immediately by the rumble of a starting engine—the sound shuddery and wavering before it finally evens out into a steady, mechanical purr. It’s coming from nearby, and your gaze immediately travels to the neighboring driveway where a beat-up sedan sits, torn between exasperation and amusement when you see Jungkook waving at you from the driver’s seat.
“I’m coming to pick you up!” he calls through the open window, and you hold back your laughter as he reverses out of his driveway, rolls ten feet down the street, and pulls into yours.
“Was that really necessary?” you ask once he’s parked.
“Of course it was,” he replies, hopping out to grab your suitcase. You watch as he pops the trunk and loads it inside, and blanch when you realize what that means.
“Wait a second. Am I riding with you?”
Some emotion flashes across his face, but he wipes it away before you can identify it. “Would that be so terrible?”
It’s been one week since Taehyung’s party, and Jisoo’s warning still rings loud and clear in your brain. Still, you feign nonchalance and tamp down the uptick in your heart rate, offering him a shrug. “Just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”
He grunts. An awkward silence settles over you as he adjusts your suitcase in the trunk beside his, and you distract yourself by fiddling with your purse strap until he slams the lid closed.
“So…” you start after a few seconds. “Are we picking anyone else up?”
“Yugyeom,” Jungkook replies, opening up the driver’s side door and climbing in. Hesitantly, you make your way over to the other side of the car, wondering if there’s any way you can avoid sitting in the passenger seat without looking like a total weirdo.
“Oh! Jungkook’s here already?” Jimin exits the house at last, lugging his suitcase and a smaller backpack. He shoves both into the backseat of your mother’s van before coming over, frowning when he sees you hovering near the trunk. “Why are you just standing there?”
You make a face at him. “We’re waiting for you, dumbass. Who’s riding with you?”
“Tae, Minho, and Taemin,” your brother replies. “Didn’t you see the group chat this morning?”
“I muted it days ago,” you admit. “You guys were annoying as hell.” Then another thought strikes you, your brain belatedly registering the names Jimin listed. “Wait, what about the girls? Aren’t they coming?”
Your brother rolls his eyes. “Jisoo’s working as a camp counselor this summer, and Lisa has other vacation plans. Maybe if you hadn’t muted the chat, you’d have known that.”
He has a point, though you aren’t about to admit that. You’re also wise enough not to inquire about the third member of the trio, remembering Jisoo’s revelation at the party. It’s no surprise that Chaeyoung isn’t joining you for the weekend—you’d want to avoid extended periods of time with your ex-boyfriend too. At the thought, your gaze reluctantly flits back over to the ex in question, who raises an expectant brow when he catches your eye.
“Ready?” he calls out the open window.
No, you want to say. But Jimin has already clambered into the van and slammed the door shut, and Jungkook’s car is blocking the van in the driveway so you suck in a deep breath and slide into the passenger seat beside your dark-haired neighbor.
“Yeah. Let’s go.”
Jungkook nods and throws the car into reverse. One hand splays across the wheel while the other comes up to rest on the back of your seat, and your breath hitches when he cranes around to check his blind spots, his face suddenly too close for comfort.
He’s playing with you, you tell yourself firmly, leaning back until your back’s pressed against the door and you can safely breathe again. Chaeyoung. Think about what he did to Chaeyoung.
“Hey, I made a roadtrip mix,” Jungkook pipes up all of a sudden. He grabs his phone from where it’s resting on the dashboard, tapping at the screen until the first strains of a melody filter through the car speakers. “It should last us the whole way.”
You perk up when you recognize the tune. “Oh! I love this song.”
Jungkook watches out of the corner of his eye as you bob your head to the beat, before smiling down at his lap. “Yeah. I know.”
///
Yugyeom lives on the other side of town, in a sprawling, winding neighborhood that sends your brain—and your phone’s GPS—into a complete and total tailspin. “Wait, wait—hang on. I think you missed a turn. You must have.”
Jungkook’s face crumples in confusion as he slows the car to a crawl, drawing a few irritated honks from the cars behind you. “There weren’t any streets back there, though.”
“Are you sure?” you ask, twisting in your seat to get a better look. “The directions said to take a right in… oh, fuck, hang on. We’re not even on a digitized road anymore, apparently.”
Jungkook heaves a sigh, but when you glance up at him, he’s wearing a grin. “Come on, Noona. You’re supposed to be my navigator. I’m depending on you.”
“I only know how to get us to the lake house, not Yugyeom’s,” you sniff defensively. “This is way beyond my pay grade.”
Jungkook chortles and reaches out, extending an open palm. “Can I see your phone for a sec?” You nod, handing it over, and he clicks his tongue as he turns it upside-down—rotating it a full three hundred and sixty degrees before returning it. “We might be lost,” he declares.
“Gee, you don’t say.”
He chuckles again. Picking up his own phone, he swipes a thumb across the screen before handing the unlocked device over. “Here, call Yugyeom. Put him on speaker, yeah?”
You hum in acknowledgement and scroll down in his contacts until you find the other boy’s name, clicking it open. A photo fills the screen as it rings—clearly a group photo from the way it’s cropped, zoomed in on Yugyeom and the ridiculous face he’s making.
“Is this from graduation?” you ask curiously.
Jungkook blinks and tears his gaze away from the windshield. “Huh?”
“Yugyeom’s contact photo,” you clarify, tilting the phone screen so he can see. “He’s got robes on.”
“Oh.” He looks away again, cheeks flushing. “Yeah. It’s lame, I know.”
You shake your head. “Don’t say that. I think it’s nice.”
Jungkook doesn’t get a chance to respond, but it’s impossible to miss the grin that crinkles his face and settles there. There’s a staticky hum as the line connects, and then Yugyeom’s voice is filling the vehicle, sounding as if he’s just rolled out of bed.
“Whaddaya want?”
“We can’t find your fucking house, man,” Jungkook says bluntly, turning onto a street that you’ve driven down at least three times by this point. “Where do you live?”
On the other end of the line, Yugyeom sighs. “Okay, okay. What street are you guys on?”
That gives Jungkook pause. “Uhh, Cedar Street? Oak Avenue? It has a tree name.”
“Neither of those streets exist, dude.”
“Birch Boulevard!” you exclaim. “We’re on Birch Boulevard. I saw the sign a while back.”
“Ah, okay. You’re close, then. Do you see a sign for Linden Lane?”
You glance around until you alight on a signpost. “Yeah.”
“Turn right onto it. Then take the first left, go past the cul-de-sac, and another left. Do not pass Go, and do not collect two-hundred dollars. I’m the fifth house on the right.”
He ends the call before you can ask him to repeat the directions, and you send Jungkook a helpless look. “Did you get all of that?”
“Besides the overused Monopoly joke?” Jungkook asks.. “Yeah, I got it. Right, left, left. Fifth house. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes to get there.”
And true to his word, you arrive at the house three minutes later. Yugyeom is standing on the front step with rumpled hair and a duffel bag at his feet, and you snort when he throws open the car door and flops across the entirety of the backseat.
“Rough morning?”
“Stayed up late packing,” he says by way of explanation, his eyes already beginning to drift shut. Jungkook immediately turns the music up, and you giggle when Yugyeom shoots upright at the bassline that’s now shaking the entire vehicle. “I’m up, I’m up! Jeez, man.”
Jungkook just sends him an innocent grin in the rearview mirror. You turn the volume back down to a reasonable level as Yugyeom directs Jungkook onto the best route to take out of the neighborhood, and it isn’t long before you’re merging onto the highway that leads toward the coast.
You’re just beginning to get comfortable, staring out the window at the passing cityscape, when your leg vibrates with an incoming text notification. Glancing down, you see that Jungkook’s phone has slipped between your thigh and the seat, the screen lit with a new message.
[10:21am] Minho: gonna be at the store in 10
“Minho says they’ll be at the grocery store in ten minutes,” you relay to your companions. “We have a little longer to go. Probably another half hour or so.”
“We wouldn’t be so far behind if Yugyeom didn’t live in a fucking labyrinth,” Jungkook remarks, but a glance at the young man in the backseat reveals that he’s drifted off despite your earlier stunt. Rolling his eyes, he turns to you. “Can you text him back, Noona?”
You nod and hold out his phone so he can unlock it with his thumb. “Hey,” you say once you’ve hit send on the message. “Do you have a contact photo for me?”
Jungkook stiffens slightly, his gaze skittering between you and the road. “Oh. Uh, yeah, I guess I do. But it’s nothing, really. It’s kinda lame. But you… you can look at it if you want.”
Curiosity piqued, you scroll down until you find your name, tapping on the image beside it. The photo is from several years ago, during a family trip to the lake house with the Jeons. You are no older than fifteen, your arm slung around a fourteen-year-old Jungkook as the two of you stand knee-deep in the lake, wearing swimsuits and bright smiles. In the background, you can just barely make out a blurry Jimin mid-splash.
“I remember this,” you murmur, zooming in on your smiling faces. “That was a fun summer.”
“Junghyun was grumpy the whole time,” Jungkook recalls with a laugh. “But we had a good time, didn’t we? We practically lived in the lake that entire week.”
“Or that old canoe.” You grin, taking one last look at the photo before locking his phone and handing it back to him. “Remember? We’d always row out too far, and our parents would scream for us to come back before we fell in and drowned.”
Jungkook snickers. “As if I’d ever let you drown. I’m a great swimmer.”
“Are you saying I’m not?”
He backpedals immediately, realizing his mistake. “Hey, don’t twist my words. I said nothing of the sort.”
“That’s what I thought.” Giggling, you turn to look out the window, propping your chin in your palm as you watch the scenery flash past. “And I want that photo, by the way. Send it to me?”
“As soon as we get to the store,” Jungkook promises. “Speaking of which, we’re getting close. Keep an eye out for the exit for me?”
“Deal.”
///
Jimin and the others are waiting in the parking lot when you arrive, perched on and around the van as they watch Jungkook expertly maneuver the car into a neighboring parking space. “Took you long enough,” your brother says once the engine is cut, hopping off the hood and landing lightly on both feet.
“We’re here now, aren’t we?” you snark as you join the others hovering near the grocery store entrance. Jimin makes a face at you, and you stick your tongue out in response. After a quick huddle—wherein you form a very haphazard game plan—everyone disperses. Jimin grabs a shopping cart and heads inside with Taehyung and Minho, the latter of whom is trying to clamber his way into the cart to hitch a ride.
Sighing, you grab a shopping cart of your own and scan the interior of the store for the produce section. They’ve rearranged the aisles since you were last here, but you quickly find what you’re looking for and begin picking your way over when Jungkook materializes at your side.
“So, what are you thinking for food?” he asks, nudging you away so he can push the cart in your stead.
You allow him to take over, gesturing toward your destination. “I know my brother,” you tell him dryly. “He’s going to buy meat and completely forget about everything else. And I don’t trust any of you to buy a single fruit or vegetable.”
“I like fruit and vegetables,” Jungkook defends.
“You like everything,” you correct, flashing him a teasing grin before leading him into the produce section.
Grocery shopping with Jungkook turns out to be surprisingly pleasant—comfortable, even. He proves adept at finding the ripest fruits and greenest vegetables, and when you ask him to find some apples, he trots off immediately and returns with a handful of sweet potatoes in addition to your requested fruit.
You raise an eyebrow. “What are you planning to do with those?”
Jungkook feigns offense, slapping a hand to his heart. “That’s cold, Noona. Don’t you think I can cook?”
“I’ve never seen you cook in my life,” you respond. “How am I supposed to know if you can or not?”
“I can,” he promises. “And I’ll prove it too, if you let me.”
You get the feeling he’s not just talking about cooking anymore, but he doesn’t give you a chance to answer. Dropping the apples and potatoes into the cart, he flashes you a crooked little smile before turning toward a display of cabbages, leaving you to wonder at what exactly is going through his head.
///
It’s nearly one in the afternoon when you arrive at your family’s lake house. The last stretch of the drive takes you through the forest along a winding, narrow road, but Jungkook is a capable driver and you know the way well enough to warn him about any upcoming hairpin turns. Piling out of the car, the three of you make quick work of putting the food safely into the refrigerator. By the time you’re finished, Jimin and the others have arrived as well, lugging their belongings inside and setting them inside the entryway.
“So who’s sleeping where?” Taehyung asks, glancing around the house. It’s modestly sized, with a living area on one side and a combined dining room and kitchen on the other. Three bedrooms and a bathroom branch off of the hallway between them, ending in a back door that leads out to the lake. Through the window, you can see the water glimmering in the sunlight, hazy and golden.
“We’ll have to share,” Jimin says. “ If Noona takes one room, that leaves two bedrooms and the pullout couch for the rest of us.”
Jungkook tilts his head. “Rock, paper, scissors?” he suggests, drawing a chorus of groans.
“I always lose!” Jimin complains. “And Taemin cheats!”
“Do not!”
Laughing at the indignant expression on your brother’s face, you decide to leave them to it and head to your bedroom with your luggage in tow. The room is just as you remember it, with a bed tucked against one wall and a dresser on the opposite. There are three doors in total—one that you just entered through, and another that opens into a small closet. The third leads to a bathroom—shared with the bedroom on the other side of the wall that usually belongs to Jimin. Vaguely, you wonder who will be sleeping there tonight, before setting your suitcase on the bed and unzipping it.
“Fuck!”
You jump at the sudden shout, poking your head out into the hallway to see what’s causing all the commotion. Yugyeom is kneeling on the floor with his head down, a crestfallen Taemin standing beside him. Meanwhile, Taehyung and Minho look supremely pleased with themselves, and you see why when they grab their bags and practically skip to the master bedroom across the hall, collapsing onto the king-sized bed.
“Have fun on the couch, losers!” Jimin singsongs, grabbing Jungkook by the wrist and dragging him into their newly won bedroom on your side of the hallway. “Lake in fifteen minutes, so get changed! Last one there’s in charge of dinner!”
The door slams shut behind him, and you roll your eyes before turning back to your opened suitcase and pulling out a book. There’s a perfectly shaded spot beneath one of the trees along the water, and you fully intend to capitalize on the last few hours of daylight before the sun begins to set.
Minho is the only one outside when you exit the house, standing on the dock in a pair of green swim trunks. He waves at you cheerily before cannonballing into the lake, and you squeak as the resulting splash sends water splattering across the front of your shirt.
“Sorry!” he calls when he resurfaces, shaking his hair out like a wet dog.
You wave off his apology with a laugh, settling down onto the soft grass at the base of your chosen tree and opening up your book. The other boys trickle out of the house one by one, but you barely notice. It isn’t until a triumphant shout pierces the air that you finally glance up to see what’s causing all the commotion, your gaze immediately landing on Taehyung standing on the back steps of the house.
“Trust me,” he says, unbothered by his apparent tardiness. ��You don’t want me to make dinner.”
Minho pulls a face and straightens up from where he’d been floating on his back. “You know, he kinda has a point there.”
Murmurs of agreement all around. Taehyung gives Jimin a smug smile, who scowls from where he’s sitting at the end of the dock, his bare feet dangling over the edge. “So what now? Do we have to play rock, paper, scissors again?”
“Nah, I’ll do it.”
Every head whips around to face Jungkook, yours included. He’s standing a short ways from where you’re sitting—his approach so quiet that you hadn’t even heard him arrive. The last time you checked, he’d been diving off the dock with Minho and Yugyeom, water pooling in his collarbones and dripping down the ridges of his taut abdomen each time he resurfaced.
Not that you’d been looking, of course.
“Really?” Jimin looks aghast at his best friend’s declaration. “You can cook?”
Jungkook scoffs in disbelief and plops down beside you, leaning back against the tree trunk. “Why does everyone in your family seem surprised by that?” he asks, his lip jutting out in a petulant frown. “Do I seem like someone who can’t cook?”
“Yes,” you tell him honestly, marking your page and letting the book fall shut. “Don’t take it personally, though. Men only learn how to cook in college when they have to start fending for themselves. And sometimes, not even then.”
The noise that leaves Jungkook’s mouth can best be described as disgruntled, but he doesn’t press any further. Instead, he peers over your shoulder to get a look at the cover of your book, mouthing the title to himself before glancing at you. “Haven’t I seen you reading this before?”
“Probably,” you admit. “It’s an old favorite.”
He hums, slouching back against the tree again, and when you look over, you see that both his eyes have fallen shut. With his mouth parted and his dark lashes resting on his cheeks, he looks years younger than he is—and so much more like the Jungkook you used to know.
“Tired?” you whisper.
“Long drive,” Jungkook whispers back, his head already beginning to loll. “Lemme sleep, Noona.”
Smiling to yourself, you return to your book and leave him to rest.
///
“So, what are you even planning to make?” Jimin asks, swinging his legs. He’s seated atop the kitchen counter, taking up the majority of what precious little space there is to begin with, and Jungkook sighs deeply as he’s forced to dodge around him yet again to peer into the refrigerator.
“You’ll see.”
“I don’t think you even know yet,” Taemin pipes up from the doorway. The other boys are in the living room playing Mario Kart, but Taemin and Jimin have selflessly pulled themselves away from the game to help their friend in the kitchen—or so they say. As far as you’re concerned, they’ve been nothing but a nuisance thus far, but you don’t voice that particular thought aloud.
“Ramen doesn’t count as making dinner,” Jimin points out snidely when Jungkook pauses too long next to the box of ramen packs. “Anyone can boil water. And you don’t get to add an egg and call it fancy, like you usually do.”
“My ramen is delicious, excuse you,” Jungkook retorts, pointing a spatula at him. “And that’s not even what I’m making, so fuck off.”
Jimin shrugs, but shuts his mouth nonetheless. You take the opportunity to throw some pork belly at him, the meat wrapped neatly in paper and tied off with twine. “Here,” you tell him. “You could at least make yourself useful and start grilling the meat.”
“Okay, mom,” your brother grumbles under his breath, hopping off the counter. He and Taemin head out to the back porch where the grill sits, and you join Jungkook at the stove where he’s staring thoughtfully at an empty pan.
“Try twisting the dial. I’ve heard that helps.”
Jungkook snaps out of his daze and turns to you. “Huh?”
“The stove. It won’t light itself, you know.”
Chuckling, Jungkook twists the dial as instructed, adding a drizzle of oil to the pan. As it heats up, he turns and selects a knife from the cutlery drawer. The sweet potatoes he’d insisted on purchasing are already washed and peeled, and you watch as he begins to slice them, your gaze automatically flitting down to his exposed forearms, his muscles flexing with every movement.
“Hey, Noona? Can you do me a favor?”
You blink, tearing your gaze from the branching veins lining his arms. “What?”
Jungkook, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice your distracted state. “Can you put the rice in the microwave?” he asks, and you can’t help but giggle.
“Why?” you tease. “Are you still scared?”
“Of course not,” he retorts, but you don’t miss the wary look that flashes across his face when you plop the rice inside and go to punch in the cook time.
The remainder of the cooking goes smoothly. Jimin and Taemin return with the grilled meat, and Jungkook rebuffs your offer to set the table, leaving his position at the stove to lay plates and utensils down on the table himself. “I’m just about done, anyway,” he tells you, gesturing at the plate of glazed sweet potatoes on the counter. “Sit down and relax, Noona.”
“Fine,” you relent, taking a seat. Jimin takes the chair beside you, and Taemin plops down on his other side. Jungkook sits down just to your left once he’s finished laying out the food, and for a brief, insane moment, you almost think that he’s going to repeat what he’d done at his graduation dinner. But the dark-haired young man remains on his best behavior, keeping his hands to himself under the table, and you aren’t sure whether you’re grateful or disappointed.
The meal flies by in a flurry of laughter and conversation. Jungkook discovers that his glazed sweet potatoes have adhered to the plate, and sends everyone into hysterics when he promptly starts spinning it around like a steering wheel.
It’s a good night. And at the end of it, you go to bed warm and content, with a belly full of food and a smile on your face.
///
You awaken to the sound of chirping songbirds and gentle waves lapping at the shore the next morning, thoroughly rejuvenated after an undisturbed night’s sleep. Stretching your arms overhead, you yawn and bask in the comfort of your bed for a few more moments before getting up and heading to the bathroom, thankful that you don’t have to fight anyone for sink occupancy. The toilet seat is even down, which comes as a welcome surprise, all things considered.
Before long, you are back in your bedroom, rifling through the contents of your suitcase. Belatedly, you realize that you’ve packed only one swimsuit—and a bikini, at that. Cheeks warming, you pull the two pieces out, holding them up against your body. Has it always been this small? You don’t remember. All you know is that Jungkook has two fully functional eyes, and there’s no way that he won’t be looking at every inch of skin you choose to expose.
In the end, you settle on wearing the bikini beneath a flowy, floral kimono-style robe, tied at the waist to form a makeshift dress. The ensemble reaches just past your knees and is sheer enough to still show skin, but you no longer feel as self-conscious going out into the view of your companions and that’s a victory as far as you’re concerned. Checking your reflection one last time, you adjust your sash before opening the bedroom door and heading down the hall for some breakfast.
Unsurprisingly, the kitchen is empty when you walk in, tiptoeing past a still slumbering Taemin and Yugyeom on the pullout couch. You savor the quiet as you start up the old coffeemaker, pulling a mug from the cabinet and rinsing it out to get rid of any lingering dust. The weather app on your phone promises that it’ll be a clear, cloudless day, and a glance out the window confirms it. Silently, you debate whether or not to crack a window.
Your musings are interrupted by the arrival of Taehyung, his brown hair sticking up at all angles. Blearily, he trundles to the fridge and grabs the orange juice, seemingly two seconds away from chugging it straight from the carton before you clear your throat and push a clean glass toward him. You think you hear him mumble a thank you.
As the morning wears on, the others slowly begin to trickle in. Breakfast is a disorganized affair that leaves bread crumbs all over the counter, and nearly causes a fight when everyone seems to want their eggs cooked a different way.
“Look, if you wanted your egg soft-boiled, you should’ve made it yourself!” Jimin grouches to Taehyung, the t-shirt over his head muffling his words. Everyone else is already in the water, splashing about, but you’re seated on the end of the dock with your brother and Taehyung, who looks thoroughly unfazed behind his tinted sunglasses.
“Maybe if I knew how to soft boil an egg, I would have.”
“Google exists,” Jimin says, finally freeing himself from the shirt and tossing it aside.
Taehyung nods sagely. “Exactly. So why didn’t you use it?”
Jimin is beginning to look positively murderous, so when Minho swims over and taps your submerged ankle, you are beyond grateful for the distraction. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Are you gonna swim, or are you gonna sit onshore the whole time?” Minho asks, raking his wet bangs out of his eyes. “The water’s not even cold, so get in here.”
Pointedly, you wiggle your toes. “Feels pretty cold to me.”
“Okay, fine. It’s cold.” Minho grins. “But you get used to it.”
You sigh at his easy admission. “All men do is lie. How am I supposed to believe you?”
He raises a brow. “Do I need to pull you in and dunk you under?”
“I will kick you if you even try,” you tell him, standing up and shrugging off your robe. An audible hush falls as the gauzy material pools around your ankles—Jungkook stops wrestling with Yugyeom and trying to dunk him underwater, and Taemin pauses mid-splash, his hair drenched and dripping.
It’s Minho who breaks the silence first, letting loose a low whistle of appreciation. “Damn, {Name}.”
Jimin grabs a shoe from the pile on the dock and chucks it at him, hard. “Dude, that’s my fucking sister!”
“Ow! What the fuck, man, that’s my shoe!”
“Quit ogling my sister!”
“I’m not!” Minho yells, just as Jimin chucks the other shoe and hits him square in the mouth. “Okay, I’m not anymore. Sorry, okay?”
Once he’s sufficiently sure that Jimin is done attacking him, Minho turns to you. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. You know that, right?”
“I know,” you reassure him. “Honestly, it was kinda good for my self-esteem. And I don’t need you defending my honor, or whatever it is you think you’re doing,” you add, glancing over at your disgruntled brother.
“Men are pigs,” Jimin sniffs. “I won’t apologize.”
You ruffle his hair good-naturedly. “I know, Chim. You’re right.” Then your smile turns mischievous. “I won’t apologize for what I’m about to do, either.”
And then you grab him by the arm and drag him into the lake, the cold water submerging you in an instant and stealing the breath out of your lungs. You’re both gasping by the time you resurface, blinking water out of your eyes, and you squeal when Jimin takes the opportunity to splash you again.
Hours pass—the sun rising higher overhead. Around noon, Taehyung disappears inside the house and returns with an assortment of snacks and sandwich fixings, ushering everyone over for an impromptu lunch on the dock. You dip your feet into the water as you munch on a bag of chips, and Jungkook plops down beside you with a juice box in one hand and a ham sandwich in the other.
“Wanna go for a ride in the canoe after lunch?” he asks, jabbing a thumb back in the direction of the house. “I found it in the garage.”
You laugh. “Really? I thought for sure we got rid of that thing. Are you sure it hasn’t sprung a leak?”
Jungkook’s face crinkles into a grin. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see, huh?”
You grin back and raise your cup, the lemonade inside swishing around. “I’ll hang on to this, just in case I need to start bailing water out.”
Lunchtime winds down gradually. Jungkook polishes off his sandwich and trots off to fetch the canoe, waving off your offers to help before disappearing around the corner of the house. You watch him return a few minutes later from your seat on the end of the dock, resting your weight back on your hands and swirling your pruney toes in the water. He’s stripped off the loose white tee he’d donned during lunch, his golden skin cast in shadow by the canoe perched across his bare shoulders, and your gaze trails from his bulging biceps down to the ridges of his abdomen. The muscles flex with every step he takes, and you hastily take another sip of lemonade in an effort to combat the sudden dryness in your throat.
With a grunt, Jungkook comes to a stop at your elbow, heaving the boat into the water. The impact sends ripples across the lake and the butterflies in your belly into a frenzy, and you nearly fall off the dock when Jungkook touches your shoulder gently.
“Ready to go, Noona?”
You nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak. Jungkook holds the boat steady with one hand while offering you the other, and you gratefully grasp it as you step off the dock. The canoe rocks dangerously when Jungkook clambers in after you, but quickly steadies when he picks up an oar and jabs at the dock to push off into the lake. The glimmering expanse of blue water stretches before you, and you relax as you let your fingers dangle off the side of the boat, watching ripples form beneath your fingertips.
“I can help row,” you say after a few moments, casting a glance over at Jungkook. He’s settled into a rhythm now, the veins and tendons in his arm flexing with each movement, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close he’s sitting.
“You—” Jungkook says, fixing you with a playful stare, “—just enjoy the ride, yeah?”
Shaking your head, you smile and turn back around to admire the view. Sunlight reflects off the rippling water, lending a golden iridescence to the glittering blue depths. In the distance, the opposite shoreline rises up, crowned with rocky outcrops and majestic dark green pines.
With a start, you realize how far away you’ve gotten from the other boys. The shouts and laughter from the house are quickly fading into the background, and you nervously turn to look at Jungkook as he rows you even further.
“God, my dad would freak if he saw us right now,” you remark, trying to diffuse the sudden tension that’s settled. “I mean, we don’t even have life jackets. He’d lose his mind.”
Jungkook hums. He stops rowing, his hands stilling on the oars, and you’re just about to ask him what’s wrong when a warm hand glides up your thigh.
“You think you could maybe stop talking about your dad, princess?” Then he smirks. “Unless you’re into the whole daddy kink thing, because I’d be down to explore that at some point if you want—“
“Jungkook!” you hiss, scandalized.
“Yes?” the young man in question hums, his face the picture of innocence. It’s hard to muster up your vocabulary when he’s looking up at you with those wide doe eyes, but you somehow manage to prevail over your malfunctioning brain.
“We’re in public!” you whisper, glancing back at the shore where your brother and his friends have started an impromptu game of water polo.
Jungkook smirks crookedly at you. “Guess you better not scream too loud, then.”
And then, before you can open your mouth to protest—before you can even try to call his bluff—he’s slipped his hand into your bikini bottoms and found his way to your clit. Your entire body spasms when he presses into it experimentally, and the resulting snicker that escapes him is nothing short of infuriating.
“Careful,” he coos, laying his free hand on your thigh, his thumb rubbing nonsensical circles into the soft skin. “Don’t wanna rock the boat, now.”
Then he returns his attention to your clit, pinching the nub just to watch you jolt in his grasp and soothing you with a gentle kiss to the knee afterward. Your skin warms beneath the plush of his lips, and the pleased smile that curves them is all the warning you get before he sheathes a single finger in your clenching core. “Jungkook—” you gasp, shoving uselessly at his bare shoulders, but you can’t keep the edge of desire out of your voice. You can’t hide the growing wetness between your legs either—wetness that he most certainly feels as he slips another finger inside, pumping into you with ease.
“God, look at you,” he murmurs, his eyes trained on the way you clench around him. “So pretty like this. So pretty, getting fucked by my fingers. I could do this all day.”
“We—we don’t have all day,” you whisper. The last syllable dissolves into a moan as Jungkook eases a third finger into your cunt, and you scrabble to ground yourself when he picks up his leisurely pace. One hand settles on the edge of the boat, your fingernails digging into the wood, while the other finds Jungkook’s bicep. His arm flexes beneath your grip with each snap of his wrist, and you keen when he crooks his fingers just right and sends stars skittering across your vision.
He knows that you’re getting close. You can tell from the growing furrow between his brows and the hard set of his jaw, and you can tell that he won’t stop until he gets you off. Concentration etches across his face, and you gasp when his thumb finds your clit again.
“Oh, fuck, Jungkook—”
“That’s it,” he rasps, digging deeper and thumbing roughly across your bundle of nerves. “Cum for me.”
And you do. With one final flick of his wrist, Jungkook sends you hurtling over the edge that he’s so effortlessly built, a cresting wave of pleasure overtaking your body and spreading through your veins. Your leg kicks out instinctively, rocking the canoe dangerously in the water, but Jungkook catches you by the ankle with his free hand and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. He shifts his weight until you’re steadied once more, and only then does he ease his fingers out of you, raising them to his mouth to lick them clean.
“Think we can sneak away so I can fuck you properly?” he asks.
Your cheeks heat up at the lewd display, warming even more when his words register in your muddled brain. “Oh my god, Jungkook.”
“That’s exactly what you’ll be saying when I really get my hands on you,” Jungkook agrees. Flashing you a mischievous grin, he drops his hand over the edge of the boat, letting the turquoise water wash away any lingering fluids. “What do you think? The backseat of my car isn’t half bad…”
“I will literally push you into this lake,” you tell him, trying and failing to hide a disbelieving laugh. “Why are you such a perv?”
“You like it,” Jungkook defends immediately. “‘Sides,” he adds, casting a wary glance at the shore where Jimin and the others are still fully engrossed in their game, “I wanna kiss you while I fuck you. It’s not as good like this.”
At that, something dangerously close to affection blooms in your belly, winding its curious tendrils around your heart. Swallowing the feeling down, you pick up one of the oars instead, handing it over to him before hefting the other. “Come on,” you murmur. “They’re gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”
Jungkook hums. “Yeah. Probably.”
And then he raises the oar you just handed him, lifting it until the paddle covers both of your faces, and boldly plants a firm kiss on your mouth.
“I’ll row us back,” he declares casually when he pulls away, as if he hasn’t just stolen all the oxygen from your lungs. As if your lips aren’t burning where he’s kissed you, your cheeks hot beneath his gentle exhalations. As if you aren’t positively thrumming with the desire to pull him back in, and maybe take him up on his offer to fuck you in the backseat of his beat-up sedan.
“Yeah,” you say instead, your voice hoarse. “Let’s go.”
///
What few remaining hours of daylight you have, you decide to spend inside. Jungkook gets roped into the water polo match as soon as the two of you return to shore, and you take the opportunity to slip into the house and clean yourself up. Safely locked away in the bathroom, you strip off your damp bikini bottoms and toss them in the sink. The top follows, and you give both a quick wash, doing your best to ignore the remaining slick from your orgasm that stubbornly coats the material.
Once everything is washed and hanging up to dry, you step into the shower. Warm water soaks your hair and slides down your back, and you tilt your head back to let the spray wash your worries away, relishing in the rare moment of peace and quiet.
By the time you’ve toweled off and gotten dressed, you can hear the boys beginning to traipse back into the house. From what you can make out, they’re making dinner plans, and you poke your head out curiously when Jimin mentions you by name.
“What are you saying about me?” you ask, narrowing your eyes accusingly at your brother.
Jimin whirls around, his cherubic face a perfect picture of innocence. “Nothing! I was just talking about your fried rice and how good it is…”
“You’re trying to get me to make you dinner,” you sigh. “I knew it.”
“No, we’ll help!” your brother promises. “I swear, as soon as I get out of the shower, I’ll chop all the vegetables.”
“Sure you will,” you snort, brushing past him and heading for the kitchen.
Much to your surprise, the kitchen is already occupied when you arrive. Jungkook and Yugyeom are at the counter—the former poised with a knife at the ready, about to slice into an onion. The latter is digging through the cabinets, and both turn at the sound of your footsteps.
“Hey,” Yugyeom says. “You probably know where the bottle opener is, right?”
You nod. “Left of the sink, second drawer down.” Then you turn your attention to Jungkook, peering curiously over his shoulder. “What’s the onion for?”
“Dinner,” he replies, flashing you a crooked little smile. “We’re making fried rice, aren’t we?”
Your heart skips a beat in your chest and races to catch up, thumping erratically against your ribcage. It’s hard to ignore the warmth blossoming in your belly—near impossible to ignore the butterflies that have made a home there—but you somehow manage to school your expression into something passably neutral and busy yourself with the other vegetables on the counter. “I see Jimin got to you, too. Is the other cutting board clean?”
Jungkook nods, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the dish rack. “Washed it last night, yeah. It’s all yours, Noona.”
You hum and skirt around Yugyeom to grab the clean board and another knife. Chopping vegetables goes a lot faster with two people, and Yugyeom does his part by cracking open two bottles of beer and plunking one down next to each of you before opening a third for himself. “Hydrate,” he orders, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and taking a sip.
It doesn’t take long to finish making dinner. As promised, Jimin joins you as soon as he’s out of the shower, plucking the knife out of your hand and nudging you aside so he can finish cutting the vegetables. You fire up the stove and drizzle some oil into a pan, and smile when Taehyung brings you the container of leftover rice and a large serving bowl.
“You know what we should do?” Minho asks as you’re all sitting down to eat. Yugyeom’s opened more beers, and Jimin’s brought out the wine as well. Jungkook is spooning out fried rice for everyone, and you accept the bowl he hands you with a murmur of thanks before looking at Minho expectantly.
“What should we do?”
“Go to the beach,” he replies, tilting the remainder of his beer back into his mouth. “It’s only an hour away, isn’t it?”
“Closer to half an hour without traffic,” Jimin corrects. “But, yeah, we should go. That would be fun.”
By the time dinner is finished, you’ve finalized plans to drive down to the beach in the morning. “Remember, we’re leaving at ten,” you tell Jimin, elbowing him in the ribs. “That means you have to wake up before ten.”
“I know!” your brother whines, rubbing the spot where you elbowed him with a grimace. “Jeez, Noona. I’m good at waking up. It’s Jungkook and Tae you have to worry about.”
“Says the punk who takes hour-long showers,” you snark. “What are you gonna do when you have to pay your own water bills, huh?”
“Shower at your place,” he replies smugly. “You can’t turn me away. I’m your brother.”
“Please, that’s exactly why I can turn you away, you little mooch.”
“You love me!”
“Really? You wanna test that theory?”
The remainder of the evening passes in a blur of booze and board games, unearthed from the closet in the hall. Despite your collective agreement to go to bed early, it’s past midnight when you finally bid everyone goodnight and crawl underneath your covers. Shutting your eyes, you will your brain to settle and your limbs to relax, and you’re on the verge of drifting off when your phone suddenly buzzes. Lazily, you roll over and snatch the device off the nightstand, taking in the late hour before your eyes flit down to the new notification and go wide.
[1:02am] Jungkook: IMG_497
You freeze, thumb hovering just above the message. Even when your screen goes dark again, you can’t erase the sight of his name lighting up your phone, the attachment sitting there like a taunt. You shouldn’t open it. You can’t open it.
But curiosity gnaws at your belly, fraying the edges of your resolve. Slowly, you wake the screen, watching as Jungkook’s name fills it once more. You hesitate, bottom lip finding its way between your teeth.
And then your phone buzzes again, several times in quick succession.
[1:04am] Jungkook: i miss you, noona
[1:04am] Jungkook: miss your pretty face
[1:04am] Jungkook: miss how tight your pussy felt around my fingers
You drop the device as if scorched. It takes several moments to gather your wits again, but when you do, pick up your phone, clicking on his name and scrolling up to the attachment. In the darkness of your bedroom, you watch with bated breath as it downloads.
“Fuck.”
The expletive slips past your lips, unbidden, but you can’t help it. Jungkook stares out at you from the photograph illuminating your screen, his eyes hooded and his lips curled into a devious smirk. He’s in the shared bathroom between your bedrooms, and even though it’s dark inside, the flash of his camera is just enough to illuminate the distinctive palm tree patterned shower curtain behind him.
But, you aren’t focused on that.
No, your focus is zeroed in on the foreground of the photo, where you can perfectly make out the head of Jungkook’s cock, sticky and leaking copiously from between his fingers.
“Fuck,” you repeat, louder this time.
And as if reading your mind, another text flashes onto your screen.
[1:07am] Jungkook: wish your pretty little pussy was stretched around my cock right now, princess
You aren’t sure what possesses you to send the response you do, but your thumbs are moving before the more rational side of your brain can catch up and stop you.
[1:07am] You: why don’t you come over and make it happen then?
You’ve only just hit send when the bathroom door swings open, revealing Jungkook standing there in nothing but sweatpants. His face is illuminated in the stark white light shining from his screen, his eyes dark and his smirk even darker. Every movement drips with intent, from the way his lips quirk upward to the way he saunters over to join you on your bed, dropping his phone somewhere amongst the rumpled sheets. The room goes dark.
And then…
“Hey, princess.”
His lips are at your ear, hot breath caressing your cheeks and sending shivers down the length of your spine. The mattress dips beneath his weight as he joins you, a hand finding your bare thigh before sliding up to grasp your hip. Only an oversized t-shirt and a thin pair of cotton panties shield you from his roving fingers, and you can tell from the pleased curve of his mouth that he isn’t going to let either stand in his way. One hand slips beneath the hem of your shirt, dancing along your ribcage, and you let out a breathy gasp when he trails up and skims along the soft skin just below the swell of your breasts.
“Been thinking about you all night, you know,” Jungkook whispers, pushing up your shirt and peppering kisses along every inch of newly revealed flesh. “Been thinking about how pretty you looked, cumming around my fingers, and how much prettier you’d look cumming around my cock.”
Your shirt is long forgotten by this point, tugged overhead and thrown carelessly over his shoulder. Jungkook hauls you closer, slotting himself between your spread legs, and you shiver when he presses the pad of his thumb against your clothed clit, the material uncomfortably damp as it clings to your folds.
“Jungkook—” His name escapes you in an airy whisper. “Please.”
Even in the darkness, you can see the satisfied, self-assured tilt of his lips. “Such a good girl for me,” he croons, leaning down to press a kiss to your waiting mouth. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek while the other remains between your legs, and you gasp sharply when he digs his thumb a little harder against your clit, circling the sensitive bud.
Jungkook seizes upon the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, licking into your mouth with unrestrained ardor. Your panties are peeled away, the cottony material disappearing right alongside the pressure of his thumb, and the inadvertent whine that escapes you has him chuckling darkly in his throat.
“What is it, princess?” Jungkook rasps, his voice dipping several pitches. “You have to tell me what you want, remember?”
You clutch at his wrist weakly, tugging it back between your legs until he finally indulges you and resumes his lazy revolutions around your clit. “Want you,” you whisper. “Want you inside me.”
Jungkook lets out a pleased hum, rewarding you with a single finger that he slips into your sopping entrance, your juices aiding the smooth glide as he curls it up in search of the spot that’ll have you seeing stars. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t,” you agree shakily. “But it looks like you are, so why don’t you let me help you out?”
Jungkook chuckles softly, his lips ghosting across the swell of your cheek. “Oh, yeah? And how exactly do you plan on helping me?”
Slowly, you reach down, letting your fingers graze the sizable bulge in his sweatpants. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? Me, stretched around your cock?”
A low groan escapes him when you give him a firm stroke, your fingers barely meeting around his length. “On your back,” he commands hoarsely, nudging you backward until you’re nestled into your pillows. Freeing his erection from the confines of his sweatpants, he settles comfortably between your spread legs, the mattress groaning in protest at the shift in weight.
“Wait,” you whisper, grabbing his wrist. “Did you hear that?”
His face scrunches in confusion. “Hear what?” he asks, as if he’s never heard that particular string of words before. “Are you sure it wasn’t just—”
He stops mid-sentence, and you both hear it again—the unmistakable creaking of bedsprings from next door. “Shit!” you hiss, scrambling back on the mattress until you’re nearly pressed against the headboard. “Oh, god. That’s Jimin. He’s going to kill you if he finds you in here—”
On the other side of the wall, the door to the shared bathroom opens, the light flickering on and illuminating the crack beneath your door. You hear your brother cursing sleepily under his breath as the toilet lid clatters open, and nearly shove Jungkook off the bed in your haste to get him out of your room.
“You have to go,” you whisper frantically, herding him toward the door that leads out into the hall.
Jungkook hurriedly pulls his pants back over his hips, and you can practically see him willing his erection to go away. “What am I supposed to say if he asks?”
“I don’t know! Pretend you were going for a glass of water or something!”
With a final push, you shove him out of your bedroom, leaning against the door with a relieved sigh when it clicks shut behind him. You hear Jungkook shuffle off just as Jimin flushes, and cast a prayer up to any deities that may exist as you listen to him wash his hands. And it seems your prayers are answered, as quiet descends over the house once more. Off in the distance, you think you hear Minho snoring.
Letting out another sigh, you return to bed, crawling beneath the covers and getting comfortable. And when sleep finally takes you, you dream of Jeon Jungkook.
893 notes ¡ View notes
ktheist ¡ 3 years
Text
01 — show me yours & i’ll show you mine | m
Tumblr media
“then won’t you fuck me right now? i’m already wet for you.”
“not tonight,”
➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung
➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au. 
➙ word. 5k
➙ warnings. explicit content, reader coming onto seokjin who’s still hung up about how he watched over her and his little brother, taehyung, all these years, they’re six years apart, fingering, rimming.
➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | finale | side story 1 |
➙ synopsis. you’re a horny bunny yet kim seokjin always seems to manage to slide out of your grasps like a fox every time.
follow these two as they embark on a sexual adventure whilst keeping their relationship on the low from kim taehyung who may or may not just pull out the (your) best friend and (seokjin’s) brother card to call a time-off on them for good.
➙ note. if you’re used to reading my fics, this one is a little different. it focuses less on healing and more on getting it on w your best friend’s brother ykwim.
also, if you’re not okay with the age gap or the nature of their dynamic, keep it to yourself. block and don’t engage. much love x
x
“i watched you grow up!” seokjin shouts right in your face as he leans so far back against the counter, you thought his back would break.
“exactly,” a suggestive smirk curls on your lips as you lean your breasts against him, making sure the angle allows him to have an eyeful of your voluptuous slopes, “i’m grown now.”
but your words seem to have snapped him out of your wonderful spell, eyes going round with realization, “you’re nineteen!”
“and,” your finger teasingly travel up from his chest and a few inches above dip of his collarbone where the protrusion of his adam’s apple dips and stops at, “legal.”
“taehyung will kill me,” he reasons, large, secure hand wrapping around your wrist before he holds it away from his throat.
“only if he knows,” your free hand caresses the noticeable protrusion in his pants that’s pressing deliciously against your stomach.
seokjin’s mouth opens and closes twice but no words come out. and he’s not exactly making any moves to hold your teasing hand away from his boner.
“please, seokjin?” with a voice as sweet as angel’s and a tilt of head just in the right angle, you give him your best puppy eye, “i can’t take it anymore, after i saw how hung you were last month when i accidentally walked in on you in the bathroom... you’re all i think about - and you weren’t even hard back then!” you giggle when his hand finally captures yours when you try to pull down the zipper of his pants.
seokjin’s lush lips glisten from his tongue swiping out to wet them - you may not have spent as much time with him than with his brother but you know that whenever he does that little tongue thing and seem to stare off into nothing in particular - it’s because he’s heavily considering the possibility of delving into whatever that had his head occupied.
but before he can even say a word, the sound of keys jiggling from the other side of the door echoes into the space where you’d trapped him, in the middle of twirling around with a newly filled glass of water. you’d easily took the glass out of his hand, noting the way he arched a brow but silently watched as you placed it on the counter next to him before you boxed him between you and the counter.
“...that’s why i’m telling you! we need more cheese!” taehyung walks in with two bags of groceries, head craned towards his elder brother and middle child of the kims - namjoon who only shakes his head at the younger boy’s antics.
“we already bought three packets of cheese,” by the time namjoon’s pointing out the unbelievable bought, you’re already helping taehyung get the backs off his hands and placing them on the counter across where seokjin stands, front facing the counter, boner hidden underneath and hand gripping the poor glass until his knuckles turn white.
“oh my god, spicy carbonara ramen!” you squeal, finding out the signature light pink packet before setting that aside - you don’t trust anyone in this house to not steal your food unless you keep it safe in your room.
“you’re too obsessed with that thing,” taehyung asserts from next to you, sitting on one of the stools, eating out of the bag of cheese-flavored chips.
“uh-huh, maybe if seokjin or namjoon says that, i’d take it more seriously,” you don’t miss the way the eldest brother’s eyes sweeps up to you in an automatic response to his name.
to anyone else, your smile would look as if you’re sharing the same humor for teasing taehyung.
“uh, i’m like the boss of moderation,” taehyung waves a dismissive hand.
“the three packets of cheese in the fridge disagrees,” you twirl around, stealing the bag out of his grasp and leaning against the counter as you place one chip into your mouth.
you notice seokjin padding towards the hallway where the rooms are and somewhere at the end, lies the infamous bathroom you speak of that changed your life forever.
x
the kims and your family have known each other for years. having been next door neighbors, it’s almost inevitable that you’d be best friends with the same-age, truck toy-wielding boy. your parents didn’t need to worry when they didn’t find you in your room - they could just ring up the kims’ and ask if their daughter were over without telling them which, most of the time, was the case.
you didn’t get to hang out at school because you went to an all-girls school and taehyung and his brothers went to a co-ed school. seokjin was the kinder but still fun to hang out with brother but wasn’t around most times. he was already in high school when you were in elementary - had his own set of friends, joined robotics for the entirety of his high school career which made him immesurably busy. namjoon’s alright but he’s more quiet and also somehow managed to get you and taehyung to do your homeworks even though you initially came over to get away from your parents nagging you to do said homework.
you should’ve seen that diplomatic but persuasive nature of his would have landed him a job in one of the biggest firms in seoul. seokjin took on a much different route, choosing to work for samsung’s sister company that specialized in r&d-ing micro-everything that goes into the phone - which is also in seoul.
you and taehyung got into the same university but the different in majors yet again obstruct you from hanging out whenever you wanted to which was why you were almost always around in the weekend at the kim brothers’ shared apartment. that meant sacrificing your back, sleeping on the thinly layered futon taehyung bought for you on sale because he finally took pity on your sleeping on the couch and suffering from back pains every morning (they were exaggerated and taehyung knew but you guessed his guilty conscience got the best of him).
“what? so your girlfriend found out i’ve been crashing at your place and she wants you to choose between me and her?” you’re in front of the laptop (they don’t have a tv) in the living room, eating a bowl of ramen while taehyung has his cheesy burrito, the movie freezing in the screen before you turn to him with the most, you’d say, nasty frown.
“i mean - she just said a girl and a guy shouldn’t be sleeping together in a room regardless if one’s on the bed and the other’s on the floor,” taehyung’s avoiding your eyes and that’s how you know he’s actually debating following that snobbish little bitch’s instructions.
now, you don’t call just anyone a bitch but when you do, she’s on your ‘don’t fuck with’ list.
“do you see my girlfriend complaining about us sharing a room when me and her were dating?” you point out in a matter of factly.
“th-this and that are two different things!” taehyung slams the burrito onto the plate in his lap and slams said plate onto the coffee table.
you say slam but it’s really possibly just a tad bit aggressive than what taehyung’s like usually.
“how is it different?” the bowl of ramen clicks sharply when you place it on the coffee table too.
“i-it just is,” taehyung shrugs.
“i can’t believe you’re choosing some bimbo over me!” hand over your chest, you look at him dramatically, jaw hanging loose and eyes accusing.
“you’ve been sleeping in the living room before i got the futon. it’ll just be like one of those days, you know what i mean?” he shrugs - or at least attempts to look casual about it.
“look at this place! it’s not even big enough to fit the futon,” hands flailing, you gesture towards the minimal space on the floor.
“it’s fine, we can move the coffee table somewhere-” taehyung still tries but you’re already vexed-marching towards the hallway with your bowl of ramen without another word.
to just about anyone, it would’ve been obvious that you’ve had it with your best friend. but taehyung being taehyung is probably desensitized to your anger fits because this time, he does sound casual when he shouts, “what about the movie? can i continue watching without you?”
“do whatever you want!” you shout back before slamming the door behind you.
it takes you a moment to gather yourself before you notice the heat of a pair of eyes on you from all the way across the room. seokjin lies in bed with his laptop on his lap, pillows elevating his upper body. he’s staring at you with arched brows and cute naturally puckered lips.
“oh, don’t mind me. i just had a fight with taehyung and i can’t stand to see him right now,” you say, walking over to the vacant table and chair, “do you mind if i finish my ramen here?”
“be my guest,” before he even lifts his hand from the laptop to gesture towards said desk, you’re already plopping down with a “thanks!”
soon enough, the tapping sound of his keyboard fills the otherwise silent room. you don’t know how long time’s passed but you’ve already finished your ramen and scrolling through instagram on your phone when you see seokjin’s latest post.
he’s sitting in a cafe, dressed in a denim jacket over a white turtle neck with a cap casting shadow over his eyes. the angle he has head head lowered makes it all the more difficult to see his expression. only his soft kissable lips are visible.
so you double tap on the picture before going into gallery and scrolling through your own pic. there’s one with you standing in front of a brick wall, clad in all black, bringing out your colorful eye makeup in conjunction with pride month. the way you’re standing accentuates your curve, bringing attention to your hips after the beholder would be done with admiring the emotions in your eyes.
you have taehyung to thank for that picture but you’re not about to tag him for credit because you haven’t really forgave him. he’s on his phone since it dinged with a notification, probably from you liking his picture. but he hasn’t even looked at you once throughout the course of that and you posting a new picture.
relentless, open up snapchat, posing for a picture and making sure the frame captures the sight of your perked breasts as you stick the tip of your tongue out, smirking and biting on it ever so gently.
with a caption of ‘don’t have a bedroom to sleep in tonight, can i sleep in urs, ggukie-yah?’
it takes a second and a half for him to set his phone down... and go back to his laptop. the tapping sound continues without even the slightest hiccup to it - and he’s already opened your snap.
so with that, you stand up, pick up your bowl, making sure to stand in a way that makes your hips more curved and breasts more defined, “well, i guess i need to get out of here since taehyung’s jealous ass girlfriend doesn’t want me sleeping in his room.”
“hm?” his brows raises at that, “you’re leaving? but it’s night time.”
your dorm is at least half an hour away and it��s too expensive by grab - you usually go back on monday with taehyung since he has a car. but since you’re not on speaking terms, both you and seokjin know that even if the youngest brother offers to drive you back - you’d straight out refuse him. would probably even say something along the lines of your friendship being over and that he has no obligations to ensure you return safely. all of it’s gotta be dramatic though. maybe add in crocodile tears.
“i’d probably stay over at a friend’s at least he’ll lend me his bed to sleep in, unlike your woman-choosing brother.” when your hand is on the handle, seokjin stops you.
“this friend... is it ‘gukkie-yah’?” and there goes the fish biting the bait.
“how did you know?” you’d like to think your tilted head and confused, drawn together eyebrows are convincing enough.
“you mistook me for him... i got your snap which was probably meant for him,” he waves his darkened phone screen in the air.
“oh my god, you did?” hand over your mouth, you gasp, “i’m so sorry, that was embarrassing.”
“it’s chill,” he shrugs.
“anyways, i’ll text him on my way there. he usually has no qualms lending a helping hand to a friend in need,” and with that, you twist the doorknob.
“are you guys... close?” the question hits the air with a different kind of tone.
“kinda,” you say, face struggling to stay neutral when you see the way his eyes glint with a dangerous gleam, “we were fwb’s in freshman year before i started dating yoona... might continue where we left off.”
“cool,” is all he says before he goes back to his laptop, the incessant tapping sound echoing throughout the room. not even a glance is spared at you the whole time you slip out of the door and close it behind you.
taehyung’s eyes catch yours for the briefest second and before he can even say anything (he looks like he would’ve said hi like he didn’t just choose his girlfriend over you), you’re holding up a hand, “don’t talk to me. i’m still mad at you for choosing a girl over me.”
as soon as you’re done washing the dishes, you pad back towards the hallway, not even caring that taehyung’s not bothering to get up from his spot or pausing the movie to talk to you - guess you’re both in that stage where you know no matter how mad the other is, they’ll never be mad enough to break the friendship for forever.
either way, if your best friend already exiled you from his room and your crush doesn’t even care about you going over to another boy’s place, you might as well actually go over to said boy’s place.
at least jeongguk’s dick game is good.
“you’re really going?” seokjin’s sillhoutte leans against the door frame whilst you’re stuffing your clothes into a h&m’s paper bag.
“yeah, like, i’m done. i’m not gonna let that bimbo think she won,” you huff while in the middle of shoving your headphones on top of the neatly folded pile.
“you can sleep with me,” as soon as he said those words, you can see panic spread through his face as he quickly adds, “in my room- on the bed- i can sleep on the floor.”
“why can’t we sleep in the same bed?”
his eyes follow the sweater that you were in the middle of folding and discard, tossing it onto taehyung’s bed.
“you and taehyung don’t-” he starts but you’re convulsing in disgust.
“ew,” you manage to hold back your rising bile. so he stays quiet. clad in a creme colored sweater that makes him look cozy and warm, “why’d you think i never complained about sleeping on the couch or on the floor? it’s cause i don’t wanna catch his cooties!”
okay, so maybe that was a lie. taehyung may be cootie-less but you’ve never been the huggy-cuddly kind of best friends. for one, it’s because you both did believe that touching the opposite gender will actually render your whole body spotted with incurable diseases and before you know it, you both were allergic to physical contact with each other at least.
seokjin doesn’t seem to believe so, otherwise he wouldn’t be shaking his head and smiling to himself.
“does that mean we can sleep in the same bed?” you cross the short distance between the bed where you’re standing over and to the door, putting on your best puppy eye.
“sure, why not?” seokjin caves like he always does back then.
you squeal in delight, arms wrapping around his waist as you give him a big hug whilst he freezes under your touch but doesn’t tell you to go away, “eeep, thanks!”
it’s almost as if the incident at the kitchen this afternoon was just a dream.
x
taehyung has tried talking to you - you say talk because no word of apology slipped through his mouth - but you’re having none of it, hiding behind seokjin’s big bro influence, or so you’d like to call it, when he burst through his eldest brother’s door, demanding for his best friend, “i know she’s in here!”
“she is,” seokjin says simply and you’re about to shoot him accusatory looks before he chuckles, “but she doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“____, come on, the squad’s all ready to play,” so that’s what he’s after.
over the years, you and taehyung have gathered your own like-minded people when it comes to video games. you don’t own a personal computer so your laptop suffers for it but the upside is that you get to bring it everywhere and it’s a pretty sturdy, gamer laptop.
“i’m playing here,” you say, laptop already set up on seokjin’s desk, headphones on.
“okay, whatever,” with a roll of his eyes, taehyung closes the door, leaving you and seokjin alone again.
and so it goes, you giving rapt attention to the game and the occasional comments spilling out of your lips when one of you make a dumb mistake or when one of you manage to kill off the enemy team’s avatar until you end up being killed yourself.
“what?” jeongguk - oh, he’s part of the squad - drags out as if he couldn’t belive his eyes.
“that’s cheating, bro,” taehyung’s voice rings in your earphone, “they literally ganged up on ___!”
“shit, shit, shit, shit, we’re gonna lose,” hoseok chants like a mantra.
“no, we’re not gonna lose,” you can just hear jimin rolling his eyes.
“bro, stop capping! we lost our fighter!” hoseok is at a point where he’s shrieking now.
“well, take however-long-it-takes-for-me-to-respawn, i guess,” you say in the middle of them arguing that they still have a hybrid fighter who is jeongguk.
either way, you’re already standing up, stretching your stayed-in-one-position-for-too-long limbs just in time for seokjin to walk in with a towelette draped over his head - you remember him using those cute little printed ones back then to dry his face after he brushed his teeth and cleansed his face. sure enough, he looks as fresh as the air that you’re about to take.
“you’re going to bed?” you ask the obvious.
“yeah, don’t worry, you don’t have to turn off the lights.”
“oh, don’t worry, i’m used to playing in the dark - my eyes are immune,” you wave a dismissive hand.
then he steals a glance at your laptop where your headphone lies next to it, emitting the lowest mumblings from your squad.
“you died?” he asserts - it’s obvious because otherwise, why would you even be talking to him.
“yeah, i think i’m gonna go wash my face now too.”
and with that, you’re out of the door, bursting in taehyung’s and shaking his shoulders to distract him as he reports the act of disturbance you’re comitting to the squad before you leave for the bathroom where your toiletries have made home in the cabinet along with taehyung’s belongings whilst namjoon and seokjin opts for placing theirs on either corners of the sink.
when you’re back, the room is already dark with your laptop being the only thing guiding your steps. there’s a lump underneath the blanket on the left side of the bed and another bright light casting sight on seokjin’s face as he scrolls through his phone.
he doesn’t bat an eye when you climb over, only looking up when it’s too late. thanks to his phone light, you can see how his eyes widen as he gazes at you with a mixture of disbelief and confusion.
you just pecked him on his cheek.
“good night,” and with that, you bound over to your laptop, noting that you’ve already respawned and getting shit talked by your squad for your tardiness and almost being the cause that the whole team was going to lose.
but fifteen minutes in, you make a blunder that causes the whole team to lose, “alright, alright, i don’t think i’m in my zone right now. maybe i’ll hit the sack.”
a chorus of protests erupts through your headphone as jeongguk starts calling you out on uncanny ability to stay up all night playing.
“i’m hitting twenty!” you dramatically moan, “my body doesn’t work like it used to!”
the protests floods in one more time but by then, you’re already saying your goodbyes, making sure to give taehyung a warning not to come bursting into seokjin’s room because he’s already asleep and you don’t want to get kicked out for being the cause his little brother disrupted his sleep to find the best friend he’s housing after she got exiled.
“seokjin?” you whisper into the dark, climbing onto the bed for the second time of the night but this time, you’re on top of the human-sized lump.
when no answer comes from the man, you giggle, “please, i heard your phone shutting off when i was telling the boys i was going to bed- had one headphone over my ear and the other off.”
only then does the man underneath you move, his tone bearing a warning, “taehyung is right across the hallway.”
“shh,” you’re groping blindly, but lady luck deems that you find seokjin’s neck and then his plump lips with ease, “then we better be real quiet.”
unlike this morning, he isn’t as deflective. doesn’t tell you to stop even when you’re grinding directly over him. and boy, is he hung.
“you know,” he lets you pry the sheets off him, kicking it off his feet completely as you take a seat on his hardening self, breasts pressed against his chest as you slowly lay yourself on him, “i was hoping you’d fuck me when i was playing,” his heartbeat is deliciously erratic, “bend me over the desk and fuck me while i talk to my friends like nothing’s happening.”
seokjin’s teeth grazing over your thumb that you use to shush him comes off as a pleasant surprise. your only regret is not letting the laptop stay on so you’d at least be able to see what kind of expression he’d make.
“you might not be able to keep your moans in on your first time with me,” the unadulterated confidence reeking off him is enticing. so ever different from the kim seokjin who’d throw around dad jokes in the house whenever the four of you sit down to have dinner, “none of the ladies i slept with could.”
“is that a challenge?” you don’t pretend to hide your excited tone as you shoot up, eyes searching for a face but all you see is darkness.
but you feel him underneath. you smell his fresh minty breath. you hear his deep breaths. you feel him.
“touch me,” it doesn’t take long for you to find both of his hands after you took off your tanktop and bra, mainly because they’re caressing your ass. all you do is cup them over your exposed breasts.
his hands are larger than jeongguk’s. they swallow your voluptous breasts like they were quarter sized cups. but by god, does he know how to fondle a woman. he teases you, grazing his thumb over your erect nipples ever so gently that you crave for more. it’s no surprise that when his hand snakes behind you and pulls you down, you easily submit.
you’ve always wondered how his lips would feel on you - but you never thought the first thing they’d be on is your nipple. suckling and biting tenderly whilst his hand makes sure your other nipple is kept accompanied.
“ah!” a mixture of a moan and a shout escapes your lips when he bites a tad too hard. teasing. testing the waters.
“for a little minx, you’re quite sensitive,” his chuckle is as warm and endearing. too warm and endearing for someone who’s doing things he shouldn’t do to his precious little brother’s best friend.
“the boys dig it,” you remark, not knowing that it would spark a fire that burns so bright, it can only be put out by your silent suffering as he flips you two over.
“that’s right, you’ve only ever had boys,” it’s not a question and even if it is, you wouldn’t have the time to answer because you’re yelping in surprise at the coolness that licks your entrance, legs forced open by seokjin’s knee.
“and girls- ah!”
a lone, single fingerpad rims around your opening. and that’s all it takes for you to swallow thickly. breath coming out bated with anticipation. heartbeat racing.
“let’s see, if you don’t make a sound, i’ll fuck you while you play next time,” he slips the tip of his finger in as if testing you, hoping you’d moan right when he sets down his offer on the table. your bottom lip hurts from suddenly forcing your teeth on it but that’s a small price to pay especially when you haven’t heard of the second half of the deal, “if you do make a sound, we stop this whole thing - no more teasing, no more seemingly innocent little gestures.”
“alright, bet,” that might’ve come off a little prickly, but it’s all seokjin’s fault! if he wasn’t hung like a horse, you would’ve taken one speculative glance and left him to his own devices!
the sweet chuckle echoing off the walls is disarming. so much so, when he slips one digit into you, your back arches and you’re biting into the pillow to stop a moan from escaping.
“is that a moan i hear? since we just started, i’ll let you off the hook,” there it is again, that disarming trickle of hymn as he slips in and out of you, loosening you up for something much, much bigger.
“it was a cough, god damn it,” you barely manage to get that out before you’re shoving your curled index finger into your mouth when he starts inserting two fingers inside without so much as a warning.
“that’s cheating!” you whine but your legs spread wider anyway.
“all is fair in war and sex,” he comments, free hand pinning your hips down on the bed before he starts thrusting his digits faster, the squelching sound of your juices reverberating against the walls - you fear that even without your moans, the two other brothers that are walls apart would’ve heard and come knocking on seokjin’s door.
along with the fear comes the electrifying euphoric sensation that courses from the tip of your toes to your core and all over your body. you remember clawing at seokjin’s hand that’s pinning you down because of how unbearably rapturous he’s making you feel. you remember his hand not budging a single inch from your meek attempts. you remember trying to bring your legs together but something’s wedged in between them. you remember tears pricking your eyes as the background slowly fades - taehyung’s presence in the room across from where you are, the possibility of namjoon coming back and walking down the hallway right as your back arches upwards and toes curling inwards as sparks course through your veins.
when your senses come back, seokjin’s in the middle of complimenting your hardwork, if “not bad” is even plausibly a praise. his fingers are still inside you, unmoving, possibly waiting for you to come down from your pleasured state.
“did i pass?” you might have been a little too elated.
“surprisingly,” he affirms, that beautiful sound of chuckles spilling out of his mouth.
“then won’t you fuck me right now? i’m already wet for you,” the last part, you say with a tinge of spoiled-ness.
“not tonight,” he says, before instructing you to lift up your head and slipping his shirt over it. you know it’s his because his heat still lingers when you slip your arms through the arm holes, cheeks hot as you forearm brushes against a nude chest as he pulls the sheets up over you.
but you being you, manage to ruin the moment with your, “why not?”
seokjin hums, that sound alone enough to make your heart shake with a sort of emotion that you can’t pinpoint, “like taehyung says - things are better in moderation.”
“he never said that,” you plainly dispute.
“well,” a kiss lands on the side of your head and an arm drapes over your stomach, just above the area where he used the same hand attached to that arm to pin you down as he fingered you, “let’s just say it’s my way of keeping you from going back to that ggukie-guy.”
you gasp into the dark, “are you jealous?!”
“i sure am,” he admits, a bit too willingly - as if it’s a known fact.
“oh,” you say, lost for words becase - “no one really admits that they are, not the people i’ve been with at least.”
“that’s cause you never been with a man... or woman. but i’d say being with a man - me - is better. i’ll show you what you’re missing out on,” he shushes you up with a “shhh” and a hand on your jaw to turn you towards him.
a pair of the softest lips meets yours and whatever retort you’re thinking up of is already out of the window.
x
note. this is different than what i’m used to writing so i’ll probably need some help!! i’m planning to update this from time to time with scenarios like ‘where he picks you up from your uni’ or ‘wherein he takes you shopping’ - idk djashdsakj send in suggestions that you think will fit oc and seokjin’s dynamic and i’ll incorporate them for the upcoming parts in their (nsfw) adventures to realizing their feelings for each other while also sneaking around behind taehyung’s back! it’s cool if you don’t though! but heads up, my smut writing skills aren’t as good so you’ll probably see more sexy times / implied smut most of  the time lol
 either way, hope yall enjoyed this!
831 notes ¡ View notes
simpsiren ¡ 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
lee taeyong x reader
description. I liked Lee Taeyong. A lot. And with every book I gave him, whatever purposes, I hid a love letter in between its pages. After all this time, I still wonder if Taeyong has yet to read even one of them.
Tsundoku— buying books and not reading them; letting books pile up unread on shelves, floors, or nightstands.
genre. fluff, angst, love letters!au, friends to lovers!au, one-sided love! au, bartender!taeyong, university student!reader
word count. 12.4k~
warnings. none!
a/n. was randomly scrolling through printerest when i found this word and suddenly this idea popped up in my headd. i had to change the meaning of the word so tha itll fit the story line better but the overall meaning is the same sooo. anyways that’s all i got for you now please enjoyy!
Tumblr media
Books. An interest both Taeyong and I shared since college. Though our interest laid in the same object, our uses for it were far from the same. For me, it’s for reading. Like how it should be used, its main purpose. Like any other bookworm, constantly having my head shoved in romance or fantasy novels. Taeyong on the other hand, he... he uses it as decoration. Something that to him, should be kept on shelves, unread for display purposes.
I got to find out quite quickly that it was a habit for him to collect books that had nice spines just so he could place them on his shelves. I’ve been to his home once. One entire wall was just shelves filled with books. It was aesthetically pleasing indeed, but it disappointed me that he didn’t even bother to read a single one. So we made an agreement that I’d read his books. If he were to buy a new one, he’d let me read it first before tucking it away to never be pulled out again. I guess that’s why my friendship with him worked so well.
Taeyong decided to work as a bartender after college while I, went to pursue my studies with university. Should say that I regretted that on-impulse decision of mine nowadays.
It’s Friday. I just got out of university, at one in the morning. What an ungodly hour, considering that my classes started at nine this morning. I agreed to meet Taeyong at his bar. Luckily for me, the distance between school and the bar wasn’t far. Taeyong took me as a factor into consideration while trying out jobs around the school’s area, just so he’d get to meet me more often. That, was one of the million reasons why I fell for him.
I dragged my feet across the side walk, the screeching of my boots scraping against the rough surface. As much as I tried to hold up my posture during my long trip there (it felt like I’ve been walking forever when really, it has only been ten minutes), my back slowly slouched with each step till I was fully slouching. The extremely poor and back paining kind. Can’t blame me. University is mentally draining, but physically as well, having to walk to different classes constantly that’s being situated on opposite ends of the facility. It’s a workout.
I looked up to take a breather, seeing the glowing sign above the bar. I gazed down, to the glass windows, noticing how there was a lot of people in there. Well, it’s a Friday night afterall. I placed my free hand onto the door’s handle, pushing it open and entering.
Classical music played in the background. People’s murmurs could be heard as they had their own conversations. The place was dimly lit with an orange hue; a calming atmosphere. I went right up to the bar, getting on an empty cushioned stool and adjusting my butt onto it. I looked around the area. Taeyong wasn’t to be seen. I only assumed that he was making drinks.
I took out my book from my tote bag, flipping to the page where I folded it’s edge to continue where I left off. I was already two third done with it. And I was determined to finish it by Monday just so that I could get a new book to read.
My head was faced down, eyes scanning each sentence as I blocked out the entire world, putting myself in my own little bubble as I imagined myself in the story’s plot, too immersed to give a single care for my surroundings.
Suddenly, a hand appeared beside me, tapping its knuckles against the wood to get my attention. I lifted my eyes up, seeing Taeyong standing in front of me. White button up shirt, three buttons unhooked, revealing the slightest bit of his collarbones in a way to tease you and having the urge to see them fully. Black dress pants with a belt that cinched on his waist, framing his lower body beautifully.
“Literally called you from two steps away and you didn’t hear any of it.” Taeyong leaned against the counter, elbows supporting him as his face got close to mine. “I was busy.” I said, lifting up my book slightly. “You done with that? I need to put a new book on the shelve soon. It bugs me that there’s an empty spot.” Taeyong shivered as he mentioned that, making me chuckle softly.
“By Monday, I promise.”
“Need anything to drink? You look worn out.” Taeyong eyed me up and down. I probably looked terrible since Taeyong scrunched up his nose and shook his head. “You know I don’t drink. I mean I can, but it’s still the school term. I can’t afford getting off track by anything.”
Taeyong breathed a short laugh in response. “Ah of course. Didn’t you say you wanted to dropout just yesterday?” Taeyong looked up for a moment before bringing his eyes back down on me with a teasing gaze. My mind went back to yesterday when I texted Taeyong a long ranting paragraph about how stressed I was this week. I frowned. “Should I?”
Taeyong bobbed his shoulder. “It’s up to you. But I sincerely think you should. I mean look at you.” He added a light scoff at the end, his hand going up and down in front of me. “I’m just worried.” He proceeded to shift his weight form one leg to the other, sliding his fingers into the pocket of his pants. I felt his sense of sincerity, invariably imbued. Another reason why I fell for him. He’s always caring, too caring for his own good, especially towards me.
“Will think about it.” I mumbled, taking note of my book’s page number since I was too lazy to fold it before closing and shoving it back into my tote bag. “Anyways, when are you getting off work?”
Taeyong turned around to grab something. I realised it was his wallet and phone as he shoved the wallet into his back pocket and kept his phone in his hand. “Right now.” He flashed his smile. The signature smile. One he has on ninety percent of the time, at least around me. It was unique. A smile that only suited him and not anyone else. He owned it . Like he should. Yet another reason why I fell for him.
I got off the stool as he went around the counter that had the space in between for staffs to pass through. “Want me to drive?” He asked as we made our way to the door. I shook my head. “You had a long day. Just go home.” I kindly rejected. I bowed my head as he opened the door for me. A gentleman; adding onto the long list.
“You had an even longer one. I don’t care. It’s late too. I can’t let you walk home alone.” I laughed weakly, waiting for him outside as he closed the door. As we make our way to Taeyong’s car, he whispered, “Sleep straight when you get home, okay?” He opened the car door for me. I nodded, “Yes father.” I dragged on.
The car ride home was silent. Completely silent. There wasn’t even music playing in the background. I had my eyes fixed on the view out of the window, too scared to look at Taeyong as I can’t bare to look at him long enough before I melt on sight.
My apartment came to view after the many trees and street lights we drove past. The car pulled to a halt and I turned to Taeyong, who was suddenly up close to me, one hand looming over my chest as he reached for the seatbelt. I possibly stopped breathing. His eyes looked into mine, expressionless. I couldn’t even blink I was that shocked. “Sorry. I thought you were sleeping.”
Taeyong pulled back to his seat. I exhaled sharply. I looked to the seatbelt. He didn’t unbuckle it. I huffed quietly and did it myself, sliding my tote bag onto my shoulder. “Remember. Sleep right away.” He advised a second time as I make my way out of the car, slamming the car door shut.
Before I turned around, he rolled down the window, leaning forward slightly. “And my book!” He shouted. I placed two fingers up my head and pointed it back at it as a way to say, “Yes sir.” Before swirling around and walking away, his car’s engine starting up and driving away. The noise was quick to get muffled and go away as he drove further out of the neighborhood.
The hours of studying I had to do at home went by quick. Before I even knew it, I didn’t sleep that night at all. Unfortunately, I didn’t listen to Taeyong. I had assignments to complete by Monday for God’s sake. I’ve come to terms with the fact that the number of times I’ve pulled all-nighters are now inhumane.
I checked the time on my clock. 5:05AM. I sighed, looking across my study table that’s pilled with worksheets and my opened laptop. I nodded my head as I made the mental decision of finally cleaning up as I rechecked to see if I’ve left any work undone before beginning to stack the papers and shoving them into my tote bag. The only thing left on the table was a stack of decorative papers, with beautiful outlines of red roses around the edges.
I slid one paper off the stack, placing it in front of me. I grabbed a random pen from my organiser, clicking it as I swirled it around, trying to figure out what to write.
Hey taeyong. This is my 127th love letter, confession letter, whatever you would call it. I’m not sure if you’ve read any of them. My last note was in ‘It Ends with Us’. I find that you aren’t giving any reaction or anything. I know you don’t read the books but do you even bother flipping through its pages for the letter to fall out? I’m still hoping you’d at least open this one. Please. I’ve been waiting for ages. For you. I like you, Lee Taeyong, for the 127th time.
I placed my pen back to where it belonged before holding the note in my hand, lifting it up to my face. I bit my bottom lip before opening my book, randomly opening a page and placing the note in, making sure it’s secured before putting that into my tote bag as well. Too lazy to even get into my bed, I fell asleep uncomfortably at the table.
It was now Sunday. I almost forgot the fact that I’m meeting Taeyong today to pass him the book, which to be honest, I didn’t finish. The book was boring. It was like those books that you force yourself through so you wouldn’t feel the regret of buying it. Though I used Taeyong’s money, I still felt bad for leaving it unread. I wasn’t like Taeyong at least.
While thumbing through my closet to find something to wear after showering, my eyes stopped at the sweater that Taeyong borrowed me not too long ago because I was dumb enough to meet him at two in the morning without a jacket. I was frozen stiff due to the cold.
Absentmindedly, I took it off its hanger and brought it close to my chest, dipping my head down as I deeply inhaled, Taeyong’s scent was still on there. I put it on and continued getting ready.
Just when I was done placing my valuables in my sling bag, the doorbell rang. Thinking it was the mailman, I rushed to the door with immense speed. I opened the door forcefully. But instead of the mailman, I was met with Taeyong standing in front of me. We locked eyes for a split second, which made my heart leap. I then eyed him up and down. He was wearing his usual all black outfit. Shirt, jeans, and boots. I liked how the plain and simple outfit was able to cup his body well, accentuate all his body features. It always made me swoon for him.
“What are you doing here?” I noticed how Taeyong kept eyeing his sweater that’s on me despite his attempts at trying to remain eye contact with me. “I thought of just letting you give me the book now and spend the day here. Can I?” No wonder he wore a regular outfit.
“So I dressed up for nothing?” I feigned my exasperation, folding my arms as I cocked an eyebrow, huffing ever so softly. Taeyong followed my poster one on one. “And wearing my sweater is called dressing up? How lovely.” It was now his turn to fire back, which made me frown. “Whatever.” I gave in, turning around to head back to my room.
I heard the door closing as Taeyong’s footsteps were quick to follow closely behind, maybe due to the large steps he took with his long legs. As I entered my room, Taeyong lets out a hum of satisfaction. “Your shelve’s looking good. More full than last time.” He complimented. I took a seat at the study table as he made his way to seat at the edge of my bed. “Mhm.” I softly answered.
With the remembrance of what he came here for, I grabbed my tote bag and fished out for the book. I then toss it onto the bed beside Taeyong, not speaking a word as I jerked my head to it. “Thanks. You read fast.” Taeyong held the book in his hand. Open it, open it. Oh God why can’t he just find the damn note I placed there?
“No I don’t. It’s just that the book was extremely boring for my liking.” I stated, matter-of-factly. Taeyong examined the book, quickly turning it over to read the synopsis. “Ew.” He mumbled.
“It was only good at first. The ending sucked.” I added on to my complains. “By the way...” Taeyong trailed on. I wonder what he wanted to ask. Was it something about the book? About the notes?
“I’ve been thinking I should read one of the books.” I folded my arms with arrogance, slouching into the chair as I tilted my head, the side of my lip lifted up slightly. “So after more than four years I was able to reel you in to read your first book?” I questioned, sounding smug.
Taeyong let out an annoyed ‘tsk’. “I find ‘If I never met you’ interesting, okay? Let me be.” Taeyong pouted and folded his arms, turning his head away from my direction. I stood up, walking to the bed and plopping myself down which made the two of us bounce up and down of a moment. “It’s cute how you’re a newbie to reading.” I made up an excuse when really what I found cute was how Taeyong acted. It made me blush a bright pink. It was probably extremely noticeable when Taeyong suddenly mentioned, “Did I make you so proud that you’re now blushing?” Taeyong teased, a giggle following after.
“Oh shut up.”
Lee Taeyong. This is the 128th letter. I still remember the first one I wrote. Feeling so hopeful and acting like a little girl that’s too shy to confess up front. I’m still like that. Yet to physically hint at you about my feelings. I can only express them like this, through notes that could all end up being meaningless if you’ve never looked at them. I’ll come by your house today. I’ll probably slide it in between books instead of pages. I long for your love, the kind that’s much more than that of a friend. I’ve been holding on for so long. Perhaps too long. But it’s okay, you’re Lee Taeyong. I won’t let the feelings I’ve bottled up for years go to waste. I’ll do something... soon. Yes, soon.
Later that day, I made my way to Taeyong’s house. I asked him to stay at home so that I could surprise him by coming over. But the reaction that I expected from him was way too predictable.
“You could’ve just told me to pick you up!” Taeyong whined. There he goes again being way too caring. Stop it. It’s hurting me.
“It’s not that troubling to travel, Yong. Calm the heck down! It’s really nothing.” I shouted back, reassurance being imbued into each word. He made way for me to enter. And as I did, I walked slowly, long strides to the living room where the large bookshelf was placed. The one that covered the entire wall. Well, almost, since he made space for the television. Other than that, it was just books surrounding it.
“Wait.” I turned around sharply. I realised that my sudden action made Taeyong stop in his tracks instantly. But he was close to me. Way too close for my own good. We stayed there for a moment, exchanging blank stares while I took the time to remember this moment; my heart stopping, his tall figure looming over me, his eyes looking into mine as if he’s trapping me in his gaze. Moments like these happen often. And I’d often take the time to remember them, shoving them into a mental folder called ‘Head over heels for TY’.
“Sit down. I’ll... get the cheesecake.” Taeyong was the first to back out, taking a step away from me and chuckling awkwardly. He quickly turned away after avoiding my eyes and rubbing the back of his neck. He looked nervous. But why? If I have seen it correctly, it looked like his cheeks were ever so slightly red as well. What even...
I shook my head vigorously, throwing those thoughts out of my mind. I sat down on the brown leather couch, leaning back and allowing my body to sink into it. Somehow, the thoughts crept back in. I thought about how what I observed just now could not have been real. It’s Lee Taeyong. Hundreds of girls are always hitting on him at the bar during his shift. He might even be seeing someone. Wait why am I even saying that to myself? I’d end up feeling jealous with no real reason. Great, you’re a dumb one indeed.
I felt Taeyong’s weight beside me. I looked up from the table, realising now that I was in a trance of my own thoughts, and to the cheesecake that he placed down. He leaned forward to cut a slice, placing it on a small plate as he placed the fork down beside it and handed it to me. “Here. Bought it especially for your brain recovery, and cravings. You’re period came, right?”
My eyes widened. My brows furrowed and got closer to each other as I backed my head away in surprise. “How’d you even know?” I asked shockingly. Taeyong lets out a chuckle, bringing his plate up and taking a bite. “I know you long enough to know that your period’s consistent and is usual around this time. But I was just taking my chances. I know you’d still eat the cheesecake either way.” Taeyong flashed a cheeky smile.
I knew he was extremely considerate towards me. He’d always advise me to take breaks, giving me a shoulder to lean on when I need rest, coming over to comfort me till sunrise whenever I texted him a ‘feel depressed lmao.’ He’s always on standby, ready to assist me when I need him, for whatever reason. Even if he wasn’t there, he was somehow able to choreograph his silent dance of support. But I never knew he was this meticulous to take note of my habits, my favourite food and even my period. He knew everything about me at the back of his hand. He really does make me feel some type of way. Perhaps a feeling far beyond love. An unknown feeling that only I could experience since it’s Taeyong. It’s always him. Always have been, and always will be.
I grabbed a big bite, scooping it in my mouth and moaning out dreamily, letting myself sink into the cheesecake and its flavours like a bath. “Fuck this is good. Where’d you get it?” I questioned with immense curiosity. I was genuinely curious. Because I’d love to get more.
Taeyong raised both his brows, his lips forming a thin line as he gave a slightly awkward or nervous cheeky smile. I couldn’t quite tell. “I made it.” He whispered. “No way!” I instantly take another bite, this time with Taeyong in mind. I mean, he already was from the moment he gave me the plate, but with now knowing that he was the one that made it? It suddenly tasted a thousand times better.
“Fucking bake more! Why haven’t I known that you can bake?!” I screamed with excitement. I finished the first slice, now on my way to tackle a second. Taeyong laughed hilariously at my reaction. “Is it that good? It’s my first time trying the recipe.”
“I know you cook like you’ve cooked for me many times but what the heck you should to do this more often. I’d eat it whole.” I squealed as I savoured the cheesecake’s flavours.
“If it’s for you then I’d gladly do it.”
Once again I felt the kindness and love through his voice and tone that’s ever so sweet and gentle. I’d imagine that this was how angels sounded like. Taeyong has always been able to put me at instant peace with just his words alone. Be it through the phone or in person. I always felt calm and protected.
It amazed me just what love could do to you. Everything they do now seemed perfect and beautiful, you blind yourself with their beauty and everything that’s good in them. In Taeyong’s case, I’ve never seen the bad side of him, shockingly enough. I’ve been friends with him for more than five years yet there wasn’t any argument between us that made a major impact on our relationship, if you don’t count those when I wouldn’t talk to him for only one day but we’d be able to act normal after.
We ended up spending the evening watching Netflix. We’ve been through two movies now. The cheesecake was now fully finished as well, down to its crumbs. “Want me to cook dinner?”
“I’m fine with anything.” I blinked my eyes once and a soft smile appeared on my lips. Taeyong hummed softly and nodded his head as he made his way to the kitchen, the sound of his slippers can be heard as he shuffled away.
I laid down on the couch, using my phone. A thought suddenly popped in my mind. I instantly peeked my head above the back rest, seeing Taeyong’s back in view as his body swayed slowly by the stove. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He ran a hand through his hair. How can a man look this... amazing. I can’t think of any other ways to describe Taeyong at that moment. Boyfriend material? Stunning? Breathtaking? All of the above.
As much as I wanted to stare at his figure, I had another agenda I had to accomplish before getting back to it. I rose from the couch, slowly and quietly, taking the note out of my sling bag. I walked up to the overwhelmingly large bookshelf. I scanned it carefully, trying to figure out where to place it.
“What are you doing?” I turned instantly at Taeyong’s voice. He was a few steps away from me, two plates of pasta in his hands. He turned around to place them on the table.
I took this chance to quickly slide the note into the shelve. One edge of the note was sticking out. Shit. It wasn’t obvious but it’s still there. I didn’t have any time to adjust it when Taeyong faced his body back to me.
“Just looking. The fact that I’ve read all these books... I’m such a bookworm for reading this much.”
“That’s what I like about you.” I was eyeing the pasta when Taeyong blurted that out. It was quick and soft, I couldn’t make out the words. I could only infer. “What?” I asked purposely, just to see if he’ll answer.
“It’s nothing.” Taeyong shoved a spoonful of pasta into his mouth, adverting his gaze on anything else but me.
I thought about how weird he was acting. It’s the first time I’m noticing that Taeyong’s been acting... wary, cautious of his every move around me. Just as I thought about how he’s clueless and delusional about my feelings for him, it could have been the same for me.
Tumblr media
Luckily (Thank the Gods kind of lucky), classes ended early today. And Taeyong told me to meet him at his dance studio. For what reason? I wasn’t actually sure. I headed there, passing by the many other practice rooms till I saw the number that Taeyong told me. I opened the door, seeing Taeyong and two other guys I’m unfamiliar with. All of them turned their heads to me in unison, Taeyong blinding me with a bright smile while the others looked to each other with confusion.
“You came!” Taeyong squealed, running up to me and hugging my tightly. He was extremely sweating. I would try to push him away, but he probably wouldn’t let go and let me suffocate. Thankfully, he didn’t and pulled away, grabbing my wrist and dragging me to the other two guys.
“Ten, Mark. This is my friend, _____. I wanted her to come so that we’ll have an audience to show our piece.” Taeyong explained to them freely as he pointed to Ten and Mark respectively, an arm swung around my shoulders. I bowed my head amicably with a smile while they did the same. “You never told me you have a girlfriend, Taeyong.” Ten teased, lightly punching Taeyong’s chest. I couldn’t help but blush a light pink. I swallowed and looked up to him, who had a nervous and shy face on, which I didn’t expect at all.
“We’re best friends, please.” Taeyong denied, no hesitation whatsoever. In my head I wanted to frown but I had to keep a smile on.
“Hey, Ten. Wanna get Starbucks?” Mark suddenly asked, looking at him with a wicked grin as if he’s hinting to Ten about something. Ten was quick to respond, nodding his head with affirmation. “Yeah. I’m thirsty. You should just stay here with her. Need js to get anything?” Ten trailed on while the two of them began to take their wallets out of their bags that were at the back of the practice room.
“You guys are really going all the way to Starbucks that’s a fifteen minute walk from here?” Taeyong asked, extremely shocked. I did walk past Starbucks on my way here, and it is indeed extremely far. What the heck were they trying to do by leaving so abruptly?
“Eh it’s fine. Well we’ll leave you to it! Peace!” And just like that, Ten and Mark have left and it was now just me and Taeyong. The two of us turned to each other and chuckled at the same time. “Come on show me your dance!”
“It’s a duet that I’m doing with Ten. Can’t dance if he’s not here.” I looked up for a moment, thinking. “Dancer by day. Bartender by night. That’s Lee Taeyong.” I spread my hands out with jiggling my fingers as if showing a rainbow and mimicking stars. Taeyong laughed and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Broke university student by day, author by night. That’s _____.”
I looked at him weirdly, eyes narrowing at him as I furrowed my brows. “How am I an author?”
“Eh I just assume you’re one since you’re such a bookworm.” Taeyong fakely rolled his eyes but flashed a cheeky smile after. I smiled back and got closed to him, both hand resting on my hips as I rested my weight on one leg. “So what are we gonna do mister dancer?” I asked with the tone of a child, making me laugh after from how ridiculous I sounded.
Taeyong proceeded to take my tote bag off my shoulder, putting it off to the side with the other bags while he grabbed his phone and went to Spotify. “Let’s dance.” He suggested with confidence. He played a song. It’s one of my favourites. A song that didn’t make me think twice to bob my head to, which I instantly did. “I haven’t danced in years and you know that.”
Specifically, it was six years ago. I used to dance in highschool as extra curricular thing. But in college I started to dance less frequently, and my dance friends and I slowly grew distant. But I was okay with it. I mean, it’s life. The world still had to spin no matter the situation.
“Come on I know you have it in you. Just vibe.” Taeyong swayed his shoulders up and down slowly, grooving to the beat as his whole body began to work its magic, his dancing was at the level of professional ones. I never know why he didn’t want to pursue dance as a career and became a bartender instead.
I slowly moved my body in a weird way. Not dancing for years, your body is bound to be uncomfortable and you’d be looking weird as you move. Which was definitely me. Taeyong laughed at me, making me frown and stopped dancing. He huffed with a smile and held both my hands. Instantly, my legs and body moved in sync with his. It felt amazing dancing with Taeyong. It was fun and carefree. I could dance as stupidly as I want and even though Taeyong could pull off the best dance moves, he’d still choose to dance stupidly along with me. He was able to serve himself as a guidance as I found my groove and vibe that I didn’t have in me for a long time.
When the music stopped, Taeyong’s hands where on my waist, while I had mine on his arms. We turned to the mirror and giggled, throwing out heads back happily.
“You still got it.”
Tumblr media
“Make sure to find the ones with pretty spines.”
Taeyong and I decided to head to bookstores today for our monthly book shopping. And while I was carefully reading the synopsis of books that had an interesting title, Taeyong was busy examining their cover pages and the aesthetics, mostly the spine.
“Have you started on the book you told me about?” I asked, flipping the book I just took out to its first chapter to get a feel of the writer’s writing style. “I have, actually.” My head shot to him instantly. He’s read the book. But I remembered putting the note in the back pages of the book. Has he reached there yet? “But I’m a slow reader. And busy. I’m only at the third chapter.”
As much as I was surprised about the fact that he’s speed in reading was extremely slower than what I would consider normal, I couldn’t blame him. He’s body with work most of the time and he has a life to live. Not to mention how it’s the first book he’s actually reading. This is a good example that the gap in terms of our reading abilities are definitely big.
“Liking it so far?” I asked. “Yeah.” Taeyong simply replied as he took a book off the display. “I’m getting this. And these as well.” He giggled like a happy child who’s buying a bunch of toys as birthday present from his parents. He lifted the books up slightly, fiddling around and trying to stack them properly while I closed the book that was in my hands. “I’m just buying this.”
“Seriously? Oh wait nevermind you’re a broke university student.” Taeyong taunted, rolling his eyes. My mouth opened slightly, faking my exasperated as I huffed loudly. “Okay mister bartender. You didn’t have to rub-”
“Oh my God. Taeyong?!”
In unison, the two of us turned around to the noise. A girl was running up to us. The moment she came, she didn’t hesitate to hug Taeyong around his torso. Taeyong chuckled, almost awkwardly and hugged her back.
I took a quick look at them. Their hug made a few things clear to me. One, she’s probably known him for a long time. But if she has, why didn’t Taeyong told me about her before? He shares all his secrets, I pretty much know him from A to Z. So why hasn’t he mention her before? Second, Taeyong was quick to reciprocate the hug, from his awkward form to a loving one. They looked like a couple that hasn’t seen each other in ages; a meaningful reunion.
I wasn’t exactly happy with where this was going. I didn’t like how in an instant, she could simply let herself be in such close proximity with him. I’ve never hugged Taeyong for that long at all. It made me feel a couple of things. Jealousy? Judgmental? Sudden hatred towards her? But why should I? It felt so invalid of me to feel these things.
“It’s been years, Taeyong.” She chuckled happily as they pulled apart. Finally. “Who’s she?” Her finger lifted up to me.
“A friend.” Taeyong answered. Of course, Why did I think I’d be any more than that? Just a friend. We’re just friends. Just.
While they were having a chat about who knows what, I wasn’t exactly paying attention since I simply assumed that it was to catch up with each other. I wondered off to another section of the store. After browsing through a few books, it was then I realised that they weren’t no longer in the store anymore when I got back. They left, Taeyong left. Without telling me. It was my fault for leaving the scene discreetly since I felt like my presence wasn’t needed in their bubble at the time, but why did Taeyong not come find me? Was I... simply forgotten?
Tumblr media
I went straight home that day after cashing out the books. I didn’t know where Taeyong went after leaving that that girl, but I didn’t want to act like some busybody who asks something that isn’t her business. I got texts from Taeyong asking if I left yet. Was he planning on returning there after leaving for two hours? He actually expected me to wait. Unbelievable.
After that day, my meetups with him became less frequent. He occasionally replied to my texts. More like one sentence after four or so hours. He still updates his socials. And it was all about her. Photos, videos. They were hanging out together more often. For some reason, it felt like she was a replacement; my replacement. I somewhat distanced myself away from Taeyong thinking, “I assume you don’t need me anymore so I’ll stay out of your way.”
But one day, out of pure curiosity, I decided to follow them to a cafe. Taeyong did text me that he’d be heading there, but I left him on seen. Like I said, I’m slowly removing myself out of his picture.
I sat at the corner of the cafe, black jacket, black cap and large black sunglasses. I looked like a stalker in the eyes of strangers. I mean, I was.
I covered myself further by holding up a book to my face. As I continuously stared at them, I grew bored. Don’t get me wrong, I was feeling negative. I didn’t like how she’s teasingly touching Taeyong’s arm, how they laughed happily together and chatting as if they’re in their own little world. But I started to wonder why I even came here. I did want to see what they’re like. But I’m making myself feel more bad this way.
I decided to write a note. I was done with the book I’m currently holding. All I needed to do was give it to Taeyong. With the note. I took out a random piece of paper from my tote bag, fishing out for a pen as well and began to write.
It’s my 145th letter. Fuck how long am I going to do this? Might sound weird, but I’m currently looking at you. Watching you with her. Why does it feel like you’re happier with her? You’re smiling, laughing more. You’re more brighter. I mean you have always been bright. But you just... radiate differently; a new type of glow I never knew you had. I saw your socials, constantly posting about her. I’m jealous, very. I want to be like that with you. But it just feels wrong, perhaps not right. Like I shouldn’t be craving for you. For your touch, your whispers, giggles. Why do I feel like this? The more you spend time with her, the more I realise that my chances of getting you is slowly slipping away from my grasp. But why can’t I move? Why don’t I want to move? I’m not sure what’s stopping me. And that’s what I’m fearing the most.
I felt my cheeks getting wet. It took me awhile to realise that I was balling my eyes out, slowly and painfully. I took off my sunglasses for a moment to wipe off excess tears before putting them back on. I can’t belive I’m crying. I looked down to the note. A tear fell onto it, a spot crinkled as it left a visible mark of my feelings. Just as I was sniffing, constantly having to wipe my cheeks dry since my tears were getting uncontrollable, I looked out the window. And what stood on the opposite side shocked me.
I knocked on the glass, his head turning quickly. He looked around inside the cafe, not sure of where the signal came from. I knocked once again. He looked down on me and I took off my sunglasses, pulling down my hood.
“Nakamoto Yuta?” I mouthed to him, my lips moving widely so he could read them. His eyes blinked rapidly and he leaned in before widening them after realising who I was. We take a few of the same classes. I see him often in school. But we never really talked. He immediately rushed into the cafe, covering his face as if hiding his identity and running up to my table to take a seat.
“Why were you looking in like some stalker?” I asked, pulling my hood back over my head as I lowered myself, my eyes still fixated on Taeyong.
“You look more like one than I do.” Yuta commented. I notice how he was constantly turning around, specifically to Taeyong’s direction. “You haven’t answered my question.”
“I’m looking at them.” He pointed his finger out ever so slightly. And as I predicted, he was referring to Taeyong and the girl. “You know Taeyong?” I immediately asked, extremely curious as to why he was spying on them just like I was. “No, but I know Jiung.” So that’s her name. Pretty name for a pretty girl. Of course.
“And why are you doing that exactly?” Yuta let out a huff, leaning in with his elbows on the table, his shoulder rising up to his ears. “Because I want to see what they’re on about. I keep seeing her with that Taeyong guy. I like Jiung so I’m jealous.” I puckered my lips and nodded. My face showed as if I shrugged it off. But my mind began turning its gears. So he likes Jiung and he’s jealous of them together? He has the same reason of me coming here as well. What forces swirled around the world for us to come together like this? It’s weird how coincidentally the situation was.
“I actually came for the same reason as you. I like Taeyong, and I’m jealous of Jiung.” I frowned slightly, a sigh leaving my lips. I opened up to him quick about my situation since I felt a sense of similarity with him. He probably wouldn’t remember anyways. It’s not like we’ll be crossing paths in the future.
“Were you crying? Your eyes are hella puffy.” He asked suddenly. I breathed out a laugh awkwardly. I gulped and cleared my throat, thinking that I should shove all my feeling down so I wouldn’t look even more ridiculous in front of Yuta. “Yeah.” I quickly slid the note in between a random page.
“Funny how we met here. For the same reasons. It’s like fate.” I couldn’t agree more. “An idea just came to my mind.” Oh no.
Yuta has always been the class clown, saying out his ideas that were completely mind blowing and far fetched. His way of thinking is... unique, in a funny way. I got somewhat nervous after he said that sentence, you can never guess what he’s thinking about or get a clear grasp of the way he thinks.
“How about we try splitting them up?” I didn’t reply, his words slowly resonating in my mind. He can’t be serious, right? But why am I slowly being persuade by an unknown force?
I have yet to say a word, my eyes still on them as I was deep in thought, wondering about all the possible outcomes of me agreeing and disagreeing, weighing them carefully so that I could make the more beneficial decision.
“Come on. You’ll get to be with Taeyong more. And I’ll have Jiung. Win-win situation, right?”
I sighed, inhaling as my chest puffs up.
“Alright.”
Tumblr media
Yuta: How’s it going?
Me: amazingg :D
“Who are you texting?” Taeyong asked, I placed my phone down to the side, screen faced down. “No one.”
This is the sixteenth outing with Taeyong after that day. I was able to spend time with Taeyong a lot more, just like before. And probably just like it should. I’ve seen Yuta posting more often on his Instagram stories, mostly of him and Jiung. Our plan of keeping them apart is working. Though Yuta told me that it was Jiung who’s constantly asking to meet up with Taeyong, he was able to force her to hang out with him instead, giving her no chance whatsoever. It was extremely helpful.
I know this whole situation sounds as if I’m being evil or whatever you call it. But why wouldn’t I accept a chance to be closer to Taeyong?
“Should we head to the carnival after this? Or desserts first? Oh I want to head to that new ice cream shop! Ten said it’s delicious but extremely crowded. I don’t mind waiting since I’ll have you to annoy.” Taeyong rambled on. I laughed happily, taking in this moment. I want to treasure such simple moments like these. I want it to be in a snow globe; something remembered forever.
“Do anything you please, Yong.” I chuckled, flashing an eye smile.
Just then, the bell above the restaurant’s door opened, signalling a new costumer coming in. Taeyong widened his eyes at the door. I tilted my head at his weird action, turning around to see just what made him react that way.
“Jiung?” “Yuta?” The two of us whispered at the same time.
Jiung’s eyes immediately went to Taeyong, her face lighting up at the sight of him as she tried to make her way over. But Yuta stopped her by the shoulders. I now understood what Yuta meant by saying, “She’s so attracted to him.”
While Jiung was struggling to eacape Yuta’s strong grasp, Taeyong was halfway off his seat. I immediately reached a hand to place on his arm. “Where you going?” I asked, faking a smile when in reality I was getting nervous.
“Wanting to say hi to Jiung.” Taeyong was about to alide himself off his seat so I grabbed his arm, trying to stop him in the most natural way possible. “I don’t think you should. She seems busy.” I tugged on his arm slightly, an attempt to get him to sit back down. “But it looks like she’s struggling. I- Wait here.” Taeyong noticed how I was trying so hard to stop him from leaving. He raised a brow and shook my hand off in an instant, his strength powering over my desires.
I followed behind him. Taeyong forcefully removed Yuta away from Jiung and Yuta’s eyes immediately glanced to mine. Both of us sending nervous signals to each other in that split second. “What the hell were you doing to her?” Taeyong growled lowly, his voice and tone suddenly growing dark as he held Jiing’s wrist, his body standing in front of hers as if he’s protecting her.
“I was just getting her out of the restaurant since it’s quite packed.” Yuta awkwardly replied with an excuse. “No you were purposely stopping me from going to Taeyong.” Jiung fought back. I stood there frozen, watching by the sidelines as nervousness started rising in me. Are they going to find out about my plan with Yuta?
“I think it’s just a misunderstanding. You two can go now.” I ripped Taeyong’s tight hold around Jiung’s wrist, dragging him back to stand beisde me. “I just want to chat with Taey-”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. Move along now.” I tried to shove Yuta and Jiung out the door. Taeyong’s hand suddenly gripped onto mine. I looked up instantly.
“Pause. You’re very acting weird. What’s going on?” Taeyong’s voice was raised higher than before. A few people were staring at us. “Nothing...” I whispered, looking down. I was now scared to the bone. I didn’t know what to reply, how to cover it up. It’s gonna have to slip out eventually. At least I was able to be with Taeyong more often.
“Yuta and I planned for you guys to never meet again.” That’s it. It’s all over. With that simple line of confession, the truth was now out. No where left to hide or run. Yuta smacked me on the arm, making me wince. “What the heck?!” He half-shouted in a whisper.
“Are you serious? And for what? Jealous or something?” Taeyong was mad. So mad. And I felt it. I was so scared. I was shivering with every word he said. I gulped, avoiding eye contact with him. I didn’t need to give a reply. My body has said it all. A moment of silence filled with tension circled around us. Suddenly, Taeyong stormed out.
I panicked, immediately going back to the table we were at to grab my belongings and rushed out, wanting to stop Taeyong. I looked around frantically. I spotted him walking down the street on the left. I ran as fast as I could, my hand reaching out for him as I shouted his name countless of times, but he doesn’t respond as if he was deaf.
“Taeyong, please!” I cried out. I finally had his wrist tightly around my fingers. He turned around sharply. He tried to walk away, but I tried harder to grip onto the hem of his sweater tighter. “What?”
I realised at that very moment that I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to stop him, but I never thought of what to do afterwards. I wanted to say “Don’t leave.” But it never left my lips.
I stood there silently, my thumb caressing against the cloth as I bit my lip hard. “Hello?” Taeyong asked, annoyed. That one simple word hit me, right on the heart. It was like an arrow, painfully accurate at where its being shot. Just as how one word from him could light up my day, and one word from him can make it come crashing down as well. His change in tone and mood was quick and intense. I couldn’t stop thinking about being terrified.
I eventually took in a deep breath, opening my tote bag and taking out the book that I have forgotten to give him that day while I was spying on him.
“Here. Have it, as a present.” I brushed a hand down the back of my head, my fingers combing through the ends as I turned around and walked away in the opposite direction after shoving the book to Taeyong’s chest, remembering the note was somewhere in there but I never bothered knowing exactly where.
My breathing started to become unstable. The further I walked away, the urge of falling down to the ground and collapsing became stronger. But I continued walking, telling myself to stay strong the whole way till I reach home. “You can cry on the floor all you want. Just quickly get home now.” I kept whispering to myself, begging my legs to speed up but my wobbly knees were not helping.
I cried that night. Very hard. The whole scene of kept replaying like a movie tape. All I could think about was how mad Taeyong looked. With his voice and eyes. It was a look I’ve never seen on him before. It was like a completely new side of him. The entire opposite of what he usually was. I now realised that he’s one of those “Their all butterflies and rainbows till they get pissed off.” That phrase cannot be any more true in regards to Taeyong.
Every day I tried to meet Taeyong. At the bar, his home, the bookstore. Anywhere he could be. He wasn’t replying to my texts, or calls. He probably blocked me. And on his socials as well. He wasn’t responding to me at all. I got worried sick. Is he never going to talk to me ever again?
Constantly, I mentally slammed my head against an imaginary wall, thinking about how I never thought of this outcome while weighing out the possible aftermath of the decision I made. How could I be so stupid, so reckless?
I eventually gave up trying to get in contact with him. He needed time and space away from me, completely. The hole this made in my heart was deep, like a dried up well with vines that has sharp long thorns growing in them. And every time I thought about Taeyong, I am constantly being pierced by those thorns of regret and agony, pricking deeper into my skin the more I fell deeper.
It was choking me; Taeyong’s absence. I couldn’t breathe at all. I was sinking, gasping for air each time I longed for him. I just wanted him back. I wanted things to get back to normal. I wanted to be us again.
Two months have passed. It was the worst two months of my life. Worst than the exam stress I had for last year’s final project. I had university to worry about on top of Taeyong. I was mentally going through hell. And again, the worst one yet. And it was now that I realised, I’d be much better off having him as a friend than anything less. But I was selfish enough to not treasure it that way, and it’s now finally gone. Completely out of my reach.
Tumblr media
One night, I was up. Doing assignments. Nothing’s new. Nothing’s changed. Taeyong has yet to open up to me. I glanced at the clock on my phone, groaning as I let my head fall on the table. I closed my eyes. I was too stressed. The world’s spinning too fast. I needed it to stop for awhile. My brain can’t bear this much.
As if on cue, the door bell rang while I lifted my head off the table. My head slowly turned to my room door. The bell rang again. A few seconds later, it rang yet again. Whoever’s outside was frustrated or something, jamming their fingers on the bell while saying “I’ll keep annoying you till you open this damn door.”
I pushed my chair back and walked over to the door. I looked through the peek hole. Taeyong...? I opened the door. On instinct, I grabbed him by his waist while his body fell on me. His face tilted up to meet mine. His cheeks were flushed red. His eyes were half opened and looking around as if stars are swirling above his head. He’s drunk.
“Good night. I wanna go in.” Taeyong whispered. Yup, he’s drunk. His breath reeked or alcohol as he spoke. I stood there for a moment, needing to process the current situation. At three in the morning, Taeyong showed up here drunk. I can think about why later. But now I had to figure out a way to carry his heavy body into the living room.
Taeyong wrapped his arms around my waist, sticking his body against mine. “You’re so warm.” I blinked rapidly. I looked down on him. I can’t believe it. He’s here. After two months of ignoring, he can simply show up here. Drunk, even. Worst of all, I still had the love to move along with this. The anger was still there. It’s just that his sudden presence made me forget about it a little while.
Out of the blue, like a marionette on strings, he jerkily push himself off me and staggered his way to the lviing room. I followed closely behind, not bothering to turn on the lights. I didn’t feel the need to. I sat down at the edge of the couch while he laid his body down. He giggled to himself and muttered things I couldn’t understand. I know what he’s like when drunk. Unstable, crazy, a lightweight. Will not remember a single thing the next morning.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, not even sure why. Why did I bother asking when he won’t remember any of this the next day? Well, he’s here now. And no matter what state he was in, I just wanted answers.
“To thank you. Me thank you. Mwah!” Taeyong puckered his lips in the end, eyes closed and shaking his head furiously. His fluffy hair moving along. I smacked my bottom lip and nodded. “For what exactly?”
“For getting rid of Jiung for me. She’s so annoying. I’d much rather be with you.” Taeyong mumbled, finger slowly pointing up to me. Unconsciously, I pointed back to myself too. “Me?” Taeyong pursed his lips into a thin line and nodded firmly. “Uhuh. Yes, right. Mhm.”
I kept silent for a moment. “That wasn’t really what I got from how you reacted two months ago.” Suddenly, Taeyong forcefully gripped onto my wrist, pulling me down. I let out a soft gasp, realising that my body was laying on top of his. We stared at each other for a long while, the close proximity making it so that I could feel his cold breath on my skin, sending shivers down my spine. I breathed heavily as I felt my face getting hot. Stop it. Why are you falling for him too quickly?
“Go home, Taeyong.” I whispered so softly in a calming and light tone. Taeyong whined in response. He was now pouting with his big boba eyes. He looked like a sad puppy. My heart instantly melted at the sight. I couldn’t resist. “I’m staying here.” He said in a high pitch voice, hugging me closer and putting me in an uncomfortable position for my body. Regardless, I stayed.
After two months he was finally here, and in my arms. This night might not mean anything to him but it made me feel relived. The fact that he remembered my house, my name, me. Whether it was just the alcohol driving him to do such things that are out of his control, I didn’t mind. All I needed was for him to be here. It felt good to be with him for that one night. Just one night was all I needed. It didn’t stop my anger for him about the fact that he ignored me, but I was okay with it. That night, I let it go. All I wanted was to feel such peace with Taeyong.
We ended up sleeping together on the small couch. I woke up with terrible body aches but either way, I sighed in relief when I woke up before Taeyong. I tried finding his phone, that was hidden under the crack of the cushions. I typed in his password. I memorise it like how he memorise mine. I went to his contacts and called the one person I knew.
“I have a favour to ask, Ten.” I said nervously as I watch him carry Taeyong into his car. He hummed, pulling his head out of the car and slamming the door. “Don’t tell him he went here.” Ten gave a half-shrug, nodding his head in response. “Sure. I’m not sure what’s going on between you two, but it seems like a lot. Should solve it soon.”
“Yeah... I hope so.”
Tumblr media
16th October.
I’ve lost count on the number of love letters I’ve given you. I can’t give them to you anymore, since you don’t even want anything to do with me. I can’t blame you. I knew you’d be pissed. I was hesitant on doing it but I was so selfish, wanting you all to myself. But what can I do, Taeyong? I’ve wanted you for so long. Yet you’re so delusional of my feelings. How could you have not read any of of my letters? Perhaps you have and chose to ignore it. That’s more painful than you being upfront and rejecting me. As much as I allow you to hate on me, I’d still say this. Fuck you, Lee Taeyong.
23rd October.
I saw you at the bar. You look... happy. Without me. You act as if nothing happened. Like I never happened. I wonder if you’re just putting on an act, or are you actually okay without me by your side. Are you still mad? Did you forget about it but have gotten use to not being with me? I want to know Taeyong so please, respond. That’s all I ask from you. Fuck that. You don’t even have to talk. I just want you here with me. Whether the air around us will be filled with tension, I don’t care. What I’m going through, is not nice, Taeyong. It is punishment for my actions. But how long do I have to keep it up? How long to I have to suffer to take a breath? For you to pull me out of this mess with your forgiveness. I’m falling apart.
14th December.
Wow. It’s December already. I’m sitting at the park we go to every Christmas. We’d be freezing to death but still glued to the bench chatting about life since we just loved being out in the snow. And yet, you never got back to me. I found out from Jiung that you left the country but never said where. I miss you, Lee Taeyong. I’m tired. So tired, of constantly penning my feelings down on pieces of paper. Words I can never say to you out loud, are all in the letters in your books that you never bothered to open. I even hid one between the books of your huge ass shelf. Why haven’t you said anything about them? I know I should move on, because it really does seem like you never want to talk to me ever again. I’m losing hope, more faster than before as each day pass, wondering where the hell as you and how you’re doing. I keep telling myself “Let it be. Let him have his moment.” But I wonder if you ever think about how I’m bearing all of this as well. That without you, I might never be able to forgive myself.
I slide the notes under Taeyong’s apartment door. I knew he was out of the country. Some nights I’d sit by his door, the note in hand as I envision him in his house. I couldn’t think about what he’s doing. And I constantly ponder about it. Is he eating well? Sleeping well? Is he enjoying himself wherever he’s at? Months passed. And as time went on, I began to wonder if my letters were even worth writing. Why was I giving so much? Why am I going through such lengths, physically and emotionally, for Taeyong to be okay? Why am I bearing such emotions when it’s not even certain that I’ll be given the same in return.
I’m making a promise to myself. I’ll let go of Lee Taeyong. I’ll slowly, bit by bit, remove my feelings out of my heart. It’s not worth it, I kept telling myself. I’m meaninglessly suffering for someone who is isn’t appreciating it. So why should I go on? I loved you, Lee Taeyong. I changed my words. I loved you.
And that was the last love letter I wrote.
Tumblr media
Along my journey to forgetting Taeyong, I suffered a lot. I was always drawn back to him. I was always willing to put my pen on paper and just write something to him. About anything. It was a bad habit that needed to stop. I had to let go years of feelings that were being pilled up in my heart. And it was something that’s extremely hard to let go. But other than my own factors, there were external, circumstantial ones as well. Whether it was coincidental or not, that was something I can never know the answer to.
I was on my laptop, casually scrolling through Pinterest to calm myself with the aesthetics of random things. Room decor, clothing ideas, handsome idols. Anything that can take my mind off my billions of overloaded projects for awhile.
I didn’t know how, but I ended up looking at quotes, Japanese ones to be exact. The deep meaning of words. Some were heartfelt while other were heartbreaking. I read them off casually till I paused at one.
‘Tsundoku— buying books and not reading them; letting books pile up unread on shelves, floors, or nightstands.’
I scoffed to myself, pinching my temples as I shook my head. It’s just like you, Lee Taeyong. “Fucking hell.” I mumbled, slamming the laptop shut. I’ve been able to not think about Taeyong for a long time now. Or at least I felt like it was a long time. I wasn’t going to let a word get me off course. I placed my laptop on the bed and went back to my study table, suddenly feeling motivated to continue as a way to distract myself from thinking about him.
Thinking that I wouldn’t be facing that state of dilemma again, I just so happen to see a quote the first thing I entered Pinterest.
‘If they were meant to reunite, they had to go separate ways.’
I was then reminded of Taeyong yet again. But I don’t think I was thinking about him as a person, but our relationship. Just our relationship. Having to part ways as a mean to reunite. That’s something I found hard to believe. Why am I having hope that it’ll happen when I highly doubt I’ll experience it? Why is my mind slowly pulling me back to the memories I have with Taeyong? I want him long gone. I want him holed up in the corner of my mind, out of sight, out of mind. But things are always popping up randomly around me, and it all reminded me of him. I feel like it’s his doing, funny enough. Constantly hinting about him with almost everything I come across.
“What the fuck?”
I looked at the Youtube home screen and what was recommended for me. One of the videos had Taeyong’s name. And his face was on the thumbnail. The title? Lee Taeyong | Freestyle dance | Paris In The Rain (Lauv) My finger moved on its own, bringing the cursor to the video and clicking on it.
As I expected, the video was taken in Paris. So that’s where he has been. He was in Paris this whole time without my notice. I was shocked to find that the video has tons of likes and view. I read through the comments. They were all swooning over Taeyong.
“Who wouldn’t?” I said to myself. I scrolled up and played the video. My eyes didn’t leave the screen for a second. I was frozen, not being able to move an inch as I watched, completely in awe. Firstly, Taeyong has his hair dyeda light ashy grey or blue. It suited him well, all too well. His dancing was immensely beautiful. Anyone would fall for him. Visuals, talent. He has it all. Dancer by day, bartender by night. He looked so free and alive in his dance. Serving the world with a hard punch with his deep emotions that were imbued perfectly into his movements.
I bit my lower lip. Fuck. I felt it. The goosebumps, the quivering of my lips. My eyes started to well up with tears. “No, this is not happening again.” The video was still playing, the music ringing in my ears but I couldn’t bear to look at the video. I was watching Taeyong, living the perfect life in Paris. What more could he needed? I clearly wasn’t in his equation. I’m completely gone, removed out of his life. No trace of my presence to be found.
The longer I think, the more I forced myself not to cry. Eventually, being weakling I am, I ended up falling deep into the harsh and intense whirl pool that is my feelings once again, a place I never visited in a long while. The feelings started dancing in my mind like butterflies flapping in unison to the soundtrack of my sadness. I could only assume that it’s what the world wants. It’s how it wants to spin, how it wants to work.
Tumblr media
Eight months. I actually counted how long I’ve lost contact with Taeyong for. It didn’t bother me. I was trying to live a life. It’s getting better. It took a lot of baby steps. But I’m feeling a whole lot lighter now. It’s March.
I was walking back from University when my phone started vibrating in my hand since I’ve always left it on silent mode. I lifted it up. It was an unknown number. Instinctively, I chose to not pick up the call. But a few seconds later, the same number showed up on the screen. With a light groan, I picked up and brought the phone to my ear.
“Hello? Who is this?” I asked formally, waiting by the traffic light. I heard the person on the other hand breathe out a chuckle, almost like a disappointed kind. “Who the-”
“So you deleted my number?” That voice... No doubt. It was Lee fucking Taeyong. “Meet me. My home. You got ten minutes.” The call ended.
Rapidly blinking my eyes, I slowly brought down the phone. I read over the number again. It was Taeyong’s phone. Why didn’t I remember it? I used to know it. It’s one of the few things I used to be able to tell off the top of my head. “Ten minutes?” I looked at the time.
I don’t know what urged me, but I ran. I ran as fast as I could. The unknown force. It was unfamiliarly familiar. If that made sense. I was able to live a life without Taeyong. I was. I was capable of it. And that’s what I did. But at the very moment, I felt the need to see him. The spontaneous out of the blue kind of feel. It was all just pouring out of me.
I stood at his doorstep, hand on my chest and other as support for my body against the wall. Panting heavily, I tried to slowly calm myself down. I gulped, and rang the doorbell. No turning back.
The door flung open. And there stood Taeyong. He still had his ashy hair colour. His face never changed a single bit. Nor did his overall physique. He was still handsome, breathtaking. “Come in.”
I sucked my lips and sidled in timidly and warily. Nothing has changed in his house as well. The large bookshelf with the television in the centre. I started to remember the love letters. All of them are hidden in the pages of the books in that very shelf. It reminded me of my feelings for him.
I sat down on the leather couch as Taeyong disappeared into the kitchen. I kept my head faced forward, placing my tote bag down, leaning it against the couch on the floor. Taeyong came back moments later. Two plates with a slice of cheesecake. He handed on to me. “Try it.” He said.
I slowly took a bite. Chewing on it, I scrunched up my nose, placing the plate down on the table. “I hate it. Tastes too artificial.” I commented dryly. Taeyong chuckled and cleared his throat. “Knew you’d say that.” Taeyong shoved a bite into his mouth, eating it as he placed the plate beside mine. “Want to know why you’re here?”
I bobbed my shoulders. This atmosphere, the air between us. It wasn’t awkward at all. Though our words were dry and short, it felt normal. It wasn’t weird being next to him after not seeing him for eight months.
Taeyong stood up, taking small steps to the shelf. As if practiced, he pulled out one letter from a book, another, and another, and another. It was never ending. It took him at least ten minutes to slide out all the letters and placing them on the table. I silently watch, my anxiety turning up a notch with each letter.
He finally took what I hoped was the last letter and went back to sit next to me. A specific letter is held in his hand. He unfolded it, placing the paper on the table and turning it so that I could read.
It was my last love letter.
“So you knew.” I whispered, looking down, leaning forward as I laced my fingers together. I took in a deep breath, my eyes scanning down the note before turning my head to Taeyong. “Then why the fuck didn’t you do anything about it?”
Taeyong lifted the paper off the table, holding it in front of him. He reread it. Running a hand through hair, chest puffing up as he inhaled and exhaled sharply. “Because I wanted you to keep writing to me.”
“What...?” That was definitely not an answer I was expecting.
Taeyong licked his lips, smacking them before sniffling a rubbing his nose. He lets out a weak chuckle. “I liked them. From your handwriting, to your words. I felt it; your love, with each letter.” He whispered softly.
I simply couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This was the explanation and truth I’ve been wanting to hear for months. This is what kept me up at night, what led me to have my mental breakdowns, the constant ‘what if’s I formulated throughout. “You just like them? Taeyong if you’re rejecting fucking do it now-” I was about to scream, but Taeyong was quick to cut me off.
“In a way it felt like you were writing a book. One just for me. That’s why I never bothered to read any other books. I just needed yours. Your... simply overpowering pain in the heart love letters.” Taeyong smiled down at the letter, hovering his fingers over the words.
“And I don’t just like the love letters. I love the author. Paris made me realise that. It took me that long. And I’m sorry for how long you needed to wait.”
“What do you love about the author?”
I could tell Taeyong was taken aback by that question. And I knew he would react that way. He still knew me well, bouncing back and giving a confident answer.
“I don’t want to sound common by saying it’s her smile, laughter, brightness. But it truly is what I love about her. All the times we’ve spent were filled with nothing but pure bliss. Serenity, is what I feel when I’m with her. Longing, like I was meant to be by her side. I’ve known her long enough to know every single detail about her, ones that maybe she doesn’t even know herself. Like how drinks two straws when she’s sad, or having the habit of twiddling her thumbs when she’s excited. Little things like those, I find them adorable. No matter what she is, a nerd, weirdo, plain crackhead, it’s... the energy, her own energy. A light and force only she could illuminate.”
I couldn’t say anything. I frozen stiff by his words. He actually meant it. I could feel it through his voice. He stuttered here and there nervously, finding words to say. But he was able to structure them in the most beautiful way possible. I had no words to say.
Suddenly, Taeyong slowly brought his hand up to cup my cheek. That one touch alone made me feel a lot of things. It was like I was hit by a huge wave of feelings all bunched up together and crashing over me. But it wasn’t something I couldn’t handle. It was overwhelming, but I was calm. I was at peace. It felt good. Just this.
He slowly and carefully swiped his thumbs across my cheeks like I’m the most fragile thing in the world. His touch was lightweight and simply serene. “Another thing the author doesn’t know about herself is that she really doesn’t know when she’s crying and spilling out tears.”
I blinked my eyes, Taeyong smoothing his hands from my cheeks and to my shoulders, placing them there firmly as his eyes stared into mine. I can’t exactly explain what I felt. But it was like the stars aligned, as cliche as that sounds.
‘If they were meant to reunite, they had to go separate way.’ I resonated with this now. I understood what it meant. Our months of separation were all for this exact moment. Both of us suffered, one trying to find themselves again while the other needing the time to realise that what’s most valuable was right in front of him. We needed that gap, for us to reunite and actually be able to love each other properly and willingly. Which definitely would not be a trouble now.
183 notes ¡ View notes
saltminerising ¡ 3 years
Text
Running An Art Shop With Minimal Crying 101
Hey y’all, not sure what compelled me to write this Now but I wanted to put together a list of helpful ‘good business practice’ tips for artists who want to start selling commissions on FR and want to build up a good reputation and make bank. I’m not sure if I’d feel comfortable throwing this on the forums personally so here you go, y’all have to look at my stupidly long possibly helpful brutally honest post cuz I don’t know where else to put this.
I’ve been doing art on FR since I was a young teenager in 2015 and through that time I’ve definitely learned some lessons the hard way. I’ve taken on more than I could handle, I’ve let commissions rot for months because I got overwhelmed… you know what I mean. Here’s some of what I’ve learned over the years that’s helped me run a consistently successful art shop for well over a year now.
I don’t have a tumblr and I don’t know how to add a ‘read more’ to a submission, so happy scrolling <3 I apologize for causing some people a very minor inconvenience
-Do not take prepayment for either more than three commissions at a time, or more than the number of commissions you think you can finish within a month or two, whichever is smaller. This is especially true if you’re like me and you have ADHD. Trust me, the more commissions people have already paid for you have piled up in your to-do list, even if they’d only take you 20 minutes each, you will get more overwhelmed and discouraged and people will wonder why it’s taking you so long. Even if you aren’t getting concerned PMs, a lot of people are just too anxious or polite to ask for updates. (On the flipside, if you commissioned someone and haven’t gotten any word/updates in a while, you’re not in the wrong to ask how things are going and when you can expect an update.)
-Full payment upfront is something I definitely recommend for smaller pieces (headshots, sketches, etc) you can finish in one sitting. However- if you’re doing a ref sheet, a rendered fullbody, etc, and you’ll be spending multiple sessions on the piece and getting feedback for it multiple times- split it up, take half upfront and half either after the sketch is approved, or before you send them the final unwatermarked version. I’ve done dozens of commissions like this and never had a problem, personally. There’s a low chance of a customer backing out on you if you’ve already started and sent WIPs because, y’know, sunk cost, and on the other hand it is reassuring to customers (especially if your shop is new) that if you drop off the map, they paid $20 upfront and got at least a sketch, instead of paying $40 upfront for an unfinished piece.
-In the same vein: if you’re doing a large piece like a rendered fullbody, ref sheet, etc, more communication is always better than less! I always stay on the safe side here. Some people will tell you they just want you to go apeshit and do whatever you think will look cool, other people might have much more specific ideas of what they want and how closely your artwork needs to match the image of their character in their head. Send them the sketch and ask them if they want any changes. Send them the lineart and ask if it looks good. If you’re working on a time-consuming painting that will take you weeks to finish, please please please, communicate! Send updates! Your customers will feel a lot less anxious about how long you’re taking if you keep them posted (plus this is just a personal thing but I love seeing peoples’ artistic process, it sparks joy!!)
-If, once again, you’re like me and stuff like painted fullbodies take you so much longer than other commission types- the worst thing you can do is underprice. Let’s say a detailed, shaded dragon fullbody takes you, for instance, 8 hours, maybe longer because you get burned out and can’t finish it in just one sitting, but you don’t think people will buy an $80/8kg fullbody. Do not lower the price you think your art is worth. If fullbodies take you really long compared to other art, or you get unmotivated, just… don’t offer painted fullbodies, or scenes with multiple characters, or whatever. If there’s a form of art you’re capable of creating but it’s faster, more fun, and gets you more money to do smaller things, just do more smaller commissions instead of taking the big ones. This one was a lifesaver for me.
-Once again in the same vein: It is okay to say no. Just because you are physically/artistically capable of drawing a detailed scene of multiple dragons with complex apparel, doesn’t mean you won’t get burnt out or bored. For me, larger pieces take exponentially longer because I just get bored and don’t want to work on them anymore. If someone asks if you can draw something that will require so much of your personal time and effort to go into a single piece, just say no. Sometimes I’ll say yes to some big commissions because I think the character is cool and inspiring and I want to draw them; otherwise, I will admit, I’ve said no to big commissions because I personally found the character boring as hell (though I wouldn’t phrase it that way). And that’s ok! 
-If you are going to be really busy in the near future, stop taking commissions. You have finals? Don’t say “sorry if things take forever, I have finals”… just don’t take the commissions while you’re busy. If you have too much on your plate, commissions will just stress you out more, and nobody likes to draw motivated by stress. There’s nothing wrong with temporarily pausing your art shop. Put your mental health first. And if you aren’t able to get commissions done on a regular basis because of mental health, or because you don’t give enough of a shit about other peoples’ characters: don’t do commissions. I don’t mean this in a bad way; I’ve been in that spot before and it’ll just cause more stress and guilt than it’s worth. 
-NO PARAGRAPHS. That sounds hypocritical of me writing this lol but do not put long paragraphs in your art shop, ever. I promise nobody will read it. Put your rules, and any other information, in bullet points that are one or two lines. Keep your rules clear, simple, unambiguous and short, or everyone will ignore it and I won’t blame them. Put titles and subtitles wherever you can. If you have a block of text longer than probably five lines, it will be ignored by most people. I have decided not to buy art from people because I didn’t want to have to dig through blocks of text for information.
….so yeah I think that’s about all I can think of at the moment. time to sit back and get yelled at for not being able to shut the fuck up and get to the point lol, hope you (yes you) have a great day c:
44 notes ¡ View notes
fridayfirefly ¡ 3 years
Text
Hardcore Hide-and-Seek
Read Hardcore Hide-and-Seek on AO3
Masterlist
Written for Maribat March Day 27 - Contest
There was a dull ache behind his temples that just wouldn't go away. The harsh, bright lights of his computer screen and the fact that he hadn't slept in almost 36 hours combined to give Tim a headache so powerful he could barely think.
"Sweetheart. Honeybunch. Cupcake. Darling." Marinette poked him in the shoulder after each pet name. "You need to go to bed now before you pass out on the keyboard." She gently pulled on his arm, guiding him away from the computer.
"Not yet. Give me... two more hours."
"No way. You need to sleep."
"I just need to finish this one program to search and identify every pedestrian walking by all five of Jason's safehouses, get it up and running, and check it for bugs. Then I can go to sleep."
Marinette groaned. "Nine hours, that's all I'm asking."
"You know how much can be done in nine hours? In nine hours Damian will have checked half of The Bowery, Cass and Steph will have combed through all of Crime Alley, and Dick and Babs will have hacked their way into every street-facing camera in Gotham."
"First of all, you're not going to find Jason if you're too tired to think straight. Second, finding Jason first means nothing if you're too tired to catch him." Marinette rolled her eyes. "Third, I think this whole contest is ridiculous. I swear, you Bats play the weirdest games."
"It isn't weird. It's good practice for our tracking abilities," protested Tim.
"It's extreme hide-and-seek tag, that's what it is. Now get to bed. If you get nine hours of sleep tonight, I'll help you catch Jason tomorrow morning."
"Fine." Tim cast one last longing look at the computer before Marinette pulled him out of the Batcave.
----------
The light of morning woke Tim up, reminding him that he had been too tired the night before to set an alarm. "What time is it?"
"It's nine in the morning. You were right that Cass and Steph searched through Crime Alley. They checked all three of Jason's safehouses but found nothing. Damian got sidetracked by an armed robbery while searching through The Bowery and was barely able to check a few blocks. Dick and Babs got access to the traffic camera and the video of two different security companies, but they weren't able to get any of your facial recognition programs to run on any of the feeds."
"Wait, what?" asked Tim, still not fully awake.
"I was serious about helping you. I don't do anything halfway," said Marinette.
Tim sat up, "That's great! Our odds of winning triple when we team up. What were you saying about Babs and Dick?"
"They can't get your facial recognition program to run."
"That's because I tweaked some of the code right at the end to require a confirmation from my laptop. That way if any of my codes fall into the wrong hands, I'll know." Tim grabbed his laptop off of his desk and opened it. A pop-up appeared in the corner of the screen.
[user: Babs requests access for FACIAL RECOGNITION]
There were three options underneath: YES, NO, and IMITATION RUN. Tim clicked the third.
"What does imitation run do?" asked Marinette.
"It will go through to all of the video feeds, but it won't actually flag anything. It will just run passively. Dick and Babs, however, won't know that."
"Clever. That should set Dick and Babs back. Now how are we going to find Jason?"
"Jason knows that we have programs to monitor anywhere where there are security cameras. That means he'll be staying away from traffic cameras. He's lying low - probably in a safehouse."
"Cass and Steph checked all three of the safehouses in Crime Alley," objected Marinette.
Tim shook his head. "Jason has more than three safehouses in Crime Alley. Those three are just the ones we know about."
"How are we going to find these safehouses?" asked Marinette. "If there's one thing Jason's good at, it's disappearing."
"That's the problem. Jason only has to last three more days before he wins. It's entirely possible for him to just hole up in his safehouse and never leave."
"On the other hand, that means that we've got him cornered once we figure out the location of his safehouse."
Tim nodded. "Let's get searching."
The problem with finding a safehouse is that there isn't much to do once a person is successfully hidden inside. It's impossible to search every single building in all of Crime Alley (though Steph and Cass together were giving a remarkably good effort of scouring for signs of Jason), so Tim and Marinette took a different approach.
"I designed the burner phones that all of the Bats use in our safehouses, which is how I know for certain that there are no trackers in them. However, if I send out a system update, they all update automatically. When the update is installed, it will send back a confirmation to the main servers. I can trace that message back to figure out the location of all of the burner phones."
"How long will that take?"
"Half an hour to get everything ready to send out a system update. Fifteen minutes after that before all the phones are updated and send their confirmation messages. From there we can start checking safehouses."
Marinette grinned. "See, I told you that you would think better with a full night of sleep."
"You were right," Tim admitted.
"You start the system update, I'm going to make breakfast."
Marinette left the bedroom and Tim wondered how he got so lucky as to have her with him.
----------
After collecting the locations of all the safehouse burner phones and cross-checking the results with the list of known safehouses, there were five unconfirmed safehouses left.
"Two in Crime Alley, two in The Bowery, and one in East End," reported Tim.
"Let's hit East End first, then move onto The Bowery, and end in Crime Alley," Marinette formulated the plan over a plate of pancakes. "What are the official rules to this game, anyway?"
"Jason got twelve hours to hide. Then we get five days to track him down and tag him. The winner gets to drive the Batmobile anytime Bruce isn't in town for the next six months."
Marinette playfully rolled her eyes. "Of course the prize is driving the Batmobile." Getting up from her finished breakfast, Marinette started putting on her coat and shoes. "Come on, Tim, let's go win you Batmobile privileges."
The apartment in East End was empty, save a few rats that scurried across the hallway of the apartment. Marinette wrinkled her nose and she peered out the grimy window. "Who's safehouse do you think this was?"
Tim fished a half-empty carton of cigarettes out of a drawer in the kitchen. "Jason's, probably, but given the amount of dust in here, I don't think he's been here for a while."
The brick house in The Bowery was a little cleaner but still abandoned. The little front yard was half dirt and half weeds. Pinned up on a bulletin board in the front hallway was an empty postcard decorated with the logo for Haly's Circus. Tim concluded that it was Dick's safehouse and they moved onto the next safehouse. It was in an apartment complex in Crown Point, the seediest district of The Bowery. It was stocked with knives, guns, and a box of neatly labeled poisons.
"Damian's safehouse?" guessed Marinette. "He's the only one I could see having poison kept on hand."
Tim nodded, "Probably."
The second-to-last safehouse was on the border between The Bowery and Crime Alley. It was small and run-down, but it seemed that at one point it had been well-maintained. The mailbox was hand-painted yellow, with blue letters reading: The Brown's.
"Stephanie's old house," said Tim, realization.
"Sentimental choice for a safehouse," noted Marinette.
It felt wrong to enter the house that Steph grew up in, so they moved on from it. There was no way Jason was inside, not when Steph and Babs had already search the known safehouses in Crime Alley.
Tim sighed as they drove to the last location. "We've only got one safehouse left to check. I'm not sure what we'll do if Jason isn't in it." Tim had forgotten to consider that Jason might have gotten a burner phone from somewhere else, other than the supply cupboard in the Batcave.
"If he isn't there then we'll go back to the drawing board, I suppose. But don't lose hope yet. I have a good feeling about this one," Marinette reasoned.
The final safe house was a nondescript apartment building: brown brick exterior, cigarette butts on the sidewalk, and grimy windows.
"Do you think this is it?" asked Marinette.
Tim shrugged. "We'll just have to find out."
There were eight apartments in the building, four on the first floor and four on the second. Tim and Marinette quickly swept the first floor, but none of the apartments were Jason's. They then moved to the second floor. Tim quickly picked up on a dusty footprint on the carpet. He recognized the tread-marks from the bottoms of Jason's shoes. "Second door on the left," whispered Tim. "You head outside and make sure he doesn't escape through the windows."
"I'll let you tag him," Marinette whispered in response, slipping down the stairs.
Tim waited a full minute for Marinette to get into position, then crept up to the door. Taking a deep breath, Tim waited for the moment to feel right. Then another breath. Bang!
Tim broke through the door, revealing Jason sitting on the bed, scrolling on his phone.
Jason swore and reached for the gun on the bedside table, but he didn't get a chance to fully react before Tim tagged him out.
"Goddammit!" Jason threw the gun on the bed in frustration. "How did you find me?"
"Burner phone," chimed in Marinette as she popped through the window.
"You said they didn't contain trackers," Jason accused.
"They don't. But when I issued a system update, they all sent a confirmation which I was able to track," Tim said smugly, trying not to gloat too hard.
Jason whipped open a drawer in the cramped kitchen and pulled out the burner phone, tossing it to Tim. "Next time, I'm picking out my own burner phone."
"If it wasn't the phone, we'd have found something else. Admit it, we were good," said Marinette.
Jason rolled his eyes. "Good job, Replacement. You too, Pixie Pop."
"See you at home," Marinette chirped. "Now that this silly contest is over, I have Tim to myself for the next two days. No more sharing his with his computer."
Tim smiled at the thought of finally spending time with Marinette. "Let's go."
"I thought you'd never ask."
@maribatmarch-2k21
125 notes ¡ View notes