#I have nothing to squish it with now bc it’s so close to the wall | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meiozis · 2 years

Text

parallels & almosts

♡ pairing: vernon x reader

♡ genre: friends to lovers, light angst

♡ word count: 10k

♡ warnings: slight description of panic attacks, alcohol consumption, slow burn-ish lol, occasional cursing, a little sad bc i wrote it in winter, yearning

a/n: i wrote this last christmas inspired by my first sem at uni, and finally got around to proofreading :) hope you like it, and if you have any thoughts about it id love to know <3

masterlist

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One day you’ll inevitably fall for someone. Someone, who will touch you for the first time like no one ever did before, and maybe no one ever will again. Full of love, admiration, and tenderness. Your chest is going to fill with pain and unending yearning, a fleeting moment that’s going to feel like nothing and everything whenever you think about it. And you’ll fall hard, hard enough that if any of it was real it might break your body in unspeakable ways.

When you wake up the next day you realise you’ll never love anyone as much as this, not in this lifetime.

Then it’s over.

You’re sitting in the bathroom, staring at the uneven paint where the tiles meet the wall, wondering if you could ever manage to crawl into one of the cracks there and disappear forever. No clichéd metaphor seems fitting enough, even though you understand you are not the first, and you won’t be the last either, to experience heartbreak quite like this. Something that squishes your heart until it feels numb, catches in your throat in a way that you can’t even find the words to explain the pain, a constant gloss over your eyes, like tears you can’t blink away.

Your upstairs neighbour is just a little too loud, the static of the tv humming just a little too much, drunk people screaming outside just a little too close, and it all feels so overbearing. You close your eyes, skin buzzing with all the loudness of the inside and outside combined. It’s hard to focus on one thing when it feels like the whole world is happening at once without you in it.

Then the phone rings.

The world stops, but your breathing quickens as panic takes over. It’s all so much in a way that seems impossible to deal with. At least for now, in this passing moment, even if it feels like an eternity. The ringing gets more and more deafening, your breaths quickening, and you know it won’t stop. It never really does. The cacophony of sounds slowly fades out, the only thing you can hear is your own body; your heartbeat, your own breaths, tired gasps for air. It’s okay. You claw at your skin, anything to distract yourself from the ongoing panic attack, even if you know it won’t help. It never does.

It’s okay.

Tears burn the corners of your eyes, even though you don’t know how long you’ve been crying. The world is slowly closing in, and it’s just you on the cold bathroom floor at 2am.

Is it okay?

It’s silent. So suddenly and so loudly, it almost knocks the air back into your lungs, as if the ground is being pulled from underneath your feet. The hot tears suddenly feel ice cold against your burning skin, and exhaustion crashes down on you. The sink is dripping again.

You’ll have to get it fixed.

Everything.

It’s a slow process to drag yourself from the bathroom to bed. The rain knocks politely on the window and you’re tempted to let it in, but instead just stare out into the cold night. The snow is slowly melting away, and you wish it washed away all the thoughts plaguing your mind too. It’s never that easy, you’ve always found it hard to let go of routines. The habit of waking up, turning over to give him a kiss, making coffee together. You don’t even like coffee that much, but for him you would’ve learned to love anything. For him, you even learned to love him. With all the pain and hurt.

Despite him, you loved him.

It’s all gone, and it’s okay.

“You didn’t pick up all weekend,” Vernon says in his usual nonchalant tone without as much as looking in your direction.

After you finally managed to calm down, sleep seemed much more inviting than looking at your phone. The next few days felt so peaceful in isolation, that it wouldn’t have been right to disturb it.

“Sorry.”

He only hums in response, quietly scribbling away in his notebook next to you. His hair is hidden behind one of his many beanies, one earphone in his ear, the other one between the two of you on the desk as a silent offering from his part. It’s the middle of the lecture, but you wordlessly take it anyway, knowing well that you won’t pay attention today no matter what.

Vernon is hard to read, even if you’ve been friends for a few years now. He mostly keeps to himself, barely showing if something is going on in his life. He occasionally lets you in on the big things, like when his sister graduated high school, or when his family got a new cat. You weren’t completely sure if he shared these things with you out of common courtesy - you were glad when he did anyway. He was a little more curious and attentive when you told him about something, but never asked on his own.

Vernon knows your coffee and takeout orders by heart, and you do his. Even if he’s a worse texter than talker, you still very much enjoy his company, and mostly the ability to exist together in comfortable silence.

You get lost in thought, only coming back to reality when your favourite song quietly starts playing in your ear. Vernon is putting his phone back down, giving you a small smile before returning to the paper in front of him. His eyes twinkle in the cheap fluorescent light of the lecture hall, and even if the thought makes your chest feel tight, he does look beautiful even at 9am on a Monday.

He furrows his eyebrows, tapping his pen against the desk to the beat of the music. You rest your head on top of your barely started notes, glancing at Vernon from the corner of your eye before getting lost in thought for the rest of the lecture. You only notice that it’s over when the boy next to you is already leaving, gently tapping your shoulder and giving you a small wave before walking off into the cold fog of the morning. The professor starts turning the lights off, and you scurry to gather your belongings, making your way to the exit. Suddenly you hear music in your ear once again, and you realise you forgot to give Vernon his earphones back.

However, music means he’s near, so you try and remember which way he went, and spot him a few benches over in front of the building. He’s standing in a lopsided circle with his friends, their laughter visible in the crisp air. You shuffle over to the group, standing a little awkwardly next to Vernon, who’s too invested in whatever conversation they’re having to notice your arrival. One of the boys spots you, and you give him a brief smile before deciding to finally tap Vernon’s shoulder. He quickly turns to you, the corners of his lips quirking up just enough for you to notice. You don’t want to overstay your welcome, so you quickly take the earphone and hand it back to him. His mouth turns into an O shape, and you can feel your cheeks warming up, so you look back down at your palm to avoid staring at his face even longer. He takes it from your hand, his cold fingers igniting fire in their wake. His eyes search for yours, and as soon as they meet you feel a little wobbly, a little warm, and a lot vulnerable.

You only decided on attending any classes you had that day to avoid sitting at home even longer, stewing in your own sadness and tears. When sitting in your bed that morning you felt as if you’d be okay, as if you’ll be able to get through all this without anyone knowing or noticing. As Vernon’s eyes bore into yours, you just knew that he could see everything. You were never sure how close he considered you, and you were always too scared to assume that you are close in the first place.

Your knees feel like they’re about to give out, so you shake your head a little, trying to hide the obvious blush on your cheeks behind your scarf.

“There’s gonna be a party later tonight, if you uh- If you wanna come,” Vernon tells you.

“It’s Monday,” it almost comes out as a question, eliciting a laugh from the boy.

“I’ll text you the address later, in case you change your mind. I’ll be there.”

His smile always makes everything a little easier, so you nod and turn to leave. For a second he looks like he might say something else, a concerned look on his face, but he fades back into the conversation instead.

As soon as you’re out of earshot Vernon’s got multiple curious eyes on him, waiting for some sort of an explanation. They all know you to some degree of course, but they haven’t seen their friend like this in quite some time.

“Dude,” Seungkwan is the first one to voice his thoughts.

“What?”

“Did we miss something?'' His tone is enough to make Vernon’s eyes widen. “Just a heads up, I’m gonna keep an eye on you tonight. And I’m gonna be updating the group chat constantly, too.”

A round of laughter and general agreement follows Seungkwan’s statement, and though Vernon loves his friends, he has to admit that they can be too much sometimes. Even if he considers himself a private person, he does still keep them up to date most of the time, except at times like this. At times when not only his feelings are concerned.

He could see even during class how out of it you were, certainly he could, but he didn’t want to bring up something you were not comfortable sharing on your own. So all he did was slide a lone earphone over, and put on a playlist he made for you. Of course, he would never tell you that - or anyone for that matter. His feelings and his playlist were kept as his most treasured secrets, even if they’re only meaningful to him. He would be lying to himself if he tried to deny the crush he’s been nursing on you since you met in your first Monday morning class, sitting in the same spot as today. He immediately memorised your name during the quick introduction game the professor insisted on, making use of it as much as he could during class, and right after, too. Grabbing coffee seemed like the logical choice at the time, texting all his friends for recommendations as soon as he could. Once class was over he made his move, striking up conversation with you, albeit a little awkwardly. Surprisingly even to him, you agreed, and shortly after you found yourselves at a small café just off campus. The impromptu hangout felt almost too comfortable for it to be your first time meeting, and Vernon couldn’t think about the way you laughed at his terrible jokes without getting butterflies in his stomach, not even years later.

He later had to face the fact that you’re taken, and even if it broke his heart a little, he enjoyed your company a lot more than for something like this to keep him from you. So here you are, almost 3 years later, still looking at each other with the same unmistakable tenderness that only you two seem to ignore. Always smiling brighter, laughing louder, and whispering even more quietly when the other is around.

You are his first love, even if he would never admit it to anyone, not even himself.

The dim orange street light illuminates the kitchen in a way that squeezes your soul just a little too tight, making you feel nostalgic for things that maybe never really happened. Snowflakes land on the window and melt away slowly, racing down the glass. Lately it only snows at night, so you decide to stay up late, the party Vernon invited you to long forgotten.

Tonight it’s a little different somehow. The air feels heavier than usual, and the streets are fully empty, which is an exceptionally rare sight this close to campus. You open the window, and climb up to sit on the sill, dangling your feet into the night. The crippling pressure on your chest doesn’t seem to cease, and you wish to be able to cry and scream, let it all out while it’s dark and quiet.

In the distance you spot a figure slowly treading through the snow, dressed in all black with their hands in their pockets. Their steps are completely silent except for the occasional crunch of the fresh snow. The knowledge that someone else is just this restless at the same time as you brings an odd sense of peace. Wordless company on such a lonely night.

For a fleeting moment you feel like everything’s going to be okay.

That night you fall asleep wondering what it’d be like to hold Vernon’s hands on a 2am walk. You dream about your kitchen window being gone.

Vernon waits for you patiently at the party that night, checking his phone way too often to make sure he doesn’t miss any of your calls or texts. A few drinks and too much teasing from his friends later he’s already getting ready to leave when some girl sidles up to him, giggling drunkenly right into his face. He remembers her from one of his classes, but not her name, and he doesn’t bother asking either.

“Heeey,” the girl chimes. “Are you uh- are you here uh- alone?” She stumbles a little, both with her words and her steps.

Vernon hesitates, but nods anyway.

“Really? So am I, that’s uh-” Vernon gets nervous that the girl might end up ruining his shoes. “That’s so cool. Wanna, do you wanna-”

She closes her eyes for a second and blindly reaches out for something to steady herself, so he grabs her arms on instinct.

“Are you okay?”

“You’re sooo cute, come with me, please?” She tries to pout at Vernon, but it comes out as almost every other emotion instead.

He shuffles through his choices mentally, deciding to make his way back into the living room with the girl clinging to him for dear life. The mind numbing music makes him wince a little, and he makes his way upstairs as fast as possible to get away from the hardcore party scene, not really in the mood for the smell of sweat and alcohol combined with the loudest room he could imagine in this moment. He manages to find an empty room on the third try, having seen a lot more naked people than he’s comfortable with in the span of the past few minutes.

He helps the girl lay down, and she mumbles something similar to a “don’t go, you’re so cute”, which Vernon decides to ignore, and turns her on her side instead - just in case she gets sick. He quickly makes his leave, and he can hear retching from the other side of the closed door as soon as he’s outside. It makes him wanna leave as soon as possible, so he does just that, bidding bye to some of his friends before vanishing into the dark. He’s never been so happy about silence before.

The night is tranquil, even his own footsteps barely audible as he makes his way home. When he hears rustling he looks around to find the source, finding someone climbing into the windowsill in a nearby building. He gets worried, immediately wondering if he should call someone, or maybe yell out to the stranger to stop, the 5th floor is a long way from the ground, it’s not worth it. He decides against it when he sees the stranger quietly settle down, but watches for a bit longer anyway before deciding to continue his journey.

That night he falls asleep wondering if he should’ve texted you, if you’re even okay.

He dreams about the stranger falling from the window in slow motion, and wakes up in cold sweat before they could hit the ground.

You find yourself spending more and more nights in the kitchen, the quiet hum of the fridge and lone passersby keeping you company as you watch the world go by. It was peaceful in a terrible way, one which you were sure was no good for you. That window became your survival, even if it made your chest ache with the sights it presented occasionally. Some nights were different. Some nights your phone buzzed to life with a new text from Vernon, asking about your day or just trying to make conversation. With how unavailable you made yourself he suddenly became better at texting than talking. You had to admit that it always made you a little sad when you didn’t receive his almost routinely ‘hey :)’ just a little past midnight. You always started by scowling him for being up late again, to which he responded by telling you the same.

It’s around 1am when your phone almost buzzes off the countertop.

Vernon: hey :)

Vernon: its finally snowing!!

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that the snowfall at night has been almost the only constant in your life lately.

Vernon: where r u???

Vernon: i know ur up we’re gonna go build a snowman

Vernon: dress warm!!

You’re about to force yourself to lie and turn him down, but something snaps inside of you and you find yourself asking for a location before hurriedly pulling on some warmer clothes. To your surprise he asks to meet in the park about a block from your complex, so you make your way over, waiting a few minutes for Vernon to arrive too.

He greets you with a warm smile, barely half his face visible from his beanie and scarf, his hands tucked deep in his pockets.

“Why are you even up this late?” You ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“My roommates threw a party,” he closes his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh, his breath drawing the prettiest shapes in the crisp air. “But I could be asking the same.”

“You could, but don’t,” he laughs at your response. “It’s really fucking cold tonight though, so let’s hurry up with that snowman.”

He grins at you and gently bumps his elbow into yours as you set off to find a good patch of snow. It starts out mellow, rolling snowballs around until you get to a size you’re happy with. However, Vernon gets bored quickly and decides to start targeting you with his snowballs instead. The park is quickly filled with your laughter and screaming, chasing each other around until you’re both too tired to run anymore. He flops down into the snow onto his back, sprawling all his limbs out. He’s still laughing quietly, interrupting himself with a scream when you throw one last snowball at his chest, half of the snow ending up in his face as it falls apart on impact. Your eyes widen as he jumps to his feet, an excited squeal leaving your lips when he sets off running in your direction. You try to make your escape, but of course he’s quicker and tackles you to the ground almost immediately. You both end up on your backs, your heads almost touching and the quiet night comes to life as you burst out in giggles almost in perfect harmony.

“I think there’s a convenience store a few blocks away,” Vernon says once he’s calmed down enough to talk, and turns his head towards you.

“You hungry?” You move your gaze towards him, and suddenly his face is way too close - you could count his eyelashes or maybe get lost in his eyes forever. For a brief second it’s silent except for the pounding of your heart that you’re sure even he can hear.

“Yeah,” he whispers in response, not breaking eye contact. You swallow nervously and your eyes flicker to his lips. “I- Let’s go.”

“Okay,” you breathe out. Neither of you move.

You feel like even the world stops moving for a second, out of politeness, to give you time to think about what to do. You wonder what you’re so scared of, what is it about him that makes your brain short circuit with a single look. The thought of ruining your friendship with Vernon climbs to the front of your mind and suddenly it’s all you can think about. Your body moves on its own as you finally get up, dusting your clothes off and reaching down to help Vernon up. He stares at you dumbfounded, but takes your hand anyway and stands in front you in silence, watching you chew anxiously on your lower lip. Even if he doesn’t know all that’s been bothering you the past few weeks, he can clearly see that something isn’t quite right.

Suddenly you find himself in his embrace, his head squished to yours and his fingers tangled in the back of your coat. He holds you like this for a bit, playfully ruffling your hair when he finally pulls away.

“There’s nothing convenience store ramen can’t fix,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Especially since you’re paying,” you grin at him, and he only laughs at you, shaking his head a little. You never want this night to end.

The walk is quick and goes by in comfortable silence, only stealing glances at each other occasionally. You’re sitting under the flickering neon sign of the store, waiting for your ramen to finish cooking, Vernon almost falling asleep over his food. You offer him your couch for the night, but he politely declines, since surely the party must be over by now. You give him a small nod, poking away impatiently at your noodles, deciding to dig in whether it’s done or not, too hungry and tired to care. The clock above the cashier reads a little past 4am.

With your stomachs full you’re standing outside the shop, mesmerised by the way the green neon highlights Vernon’s face. Even like this, he looks tired and almost a little sad. Your thoughts wander to how little he has said since you left the park, and it leaves a weird taste in your mouth.

“Thank you.” You spot the perplexed look in his eyes. “For tonight. It was… nice. So, thank you.”

He has way too much to say and way too little consciousness left in him for the night. He tries to string his thoughts together in an order so that they make sense, but the lack of sleep takes over and he only manages a tired smile. He can see something in your eyes that’s new to him, but he decides to save that conversation for another time.

Once you say your goodbyes you slowly make your way home, walking past the half finished snowman. Once you reach the other end of the park you let out a sigh and turn around. You pull your freezing hands from your pockets and get to work once again, rolling a head for the snowman and looking around for some twigs for the arms. You put on a few pebbles as decorations, a smile adorning the snowman’s face now. You take your phone and quickly snap a picture to send to Vernon, even though you’re sure he’s already fast asleep.

It’s past 5am once you get home, managing to fall asleep without tossing and turning for the first time in weeks. You don’t have a dream that night.

When Vernon stumbles through the front door he’s greeted by Seungkwan and Soonyoung watching some movie in the living room, probably half asleep as they don’t seem to notice his arrival. He takes off his shoes and coat, quietly moving towards his room when he hears a tired yawn from the couch. Seungkwan blinks at him sleepily, Vernon greeting him with a small wave that either goes unnoticed, or the boy really was asleep.

“You missed movie night,” Seungkwan croaks out. “What time is it anyways?”

“It’s really, really late. I just had to check on a friend.”

“A friend…” Seungkwan studies Vernon’s face. “You look like shit, dude.”

Vernon only looks back at him with a tired expression, letting out a low sigh before disappearing into his room. He flops down on his bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes. He thinks back to your face so close to his, all the things he could’ve said and done. The moon peeks through his blinds, and he wonders if he kissed you would you have kissed him back.

He dreams about the feeling of your lips on his.

Vernon never replies to your finished snowman, and somehow it bothers you a lot more than it should. For the first time this winter the snow didn’t end up melting by the morning, and it’s even there covering the ground in a plush white layer a few days later.

It’s one of those nights again where the dark amplifies your loneliness, and you find yourself in the park again, sitting on a bench in front of your snowman. It’s leaning to the side a little, the daytime sun not taking mercy on it. You stare into its pebble eyes, your elbows resting on your knees and your chin in your palms - almost studying the little creature you made. You know it's going to melt and be gone in a few days, and the thought puts a frown on your face. You wish you never got attached to something so impermanent.

You check your phone for the time, but instead have to face a missed call and a message from Vernon. All it reads is “r u up?”, and you mentally cringe at the tinder-esque nature of his texting habits. You decide not to reply.

You get up to leave, but fix the snowman up before you do so, wrapping your scarf around its neck. You zip your coat up as high as possible and set off with silent steps. Being alone feels suffocating, even though you’re the one who turned Vernon down once again. It’s been weird seeing him around at school, only being able to think about how pretty he looks under cheap neon lights. He doesn’t make much of an effort to reach out either.

Later that week one of his friends invites you to some party he’s hosting, but you politely turn the offer down. You do end up buying a bottle of the cheapest grapefruit soju you can find that very same night, laying drunkenly on the floor and singing along to every song that comes on. You are glad that your phone is dead and you are too out of it to get up for the charger, because all you can think about is texting Vernon. It’s way past midnight when you finally feel well enough to get up, realising that you’ve been ignoring how hungry you are for the past few hours. The kitchen sounds like the worst place to be, so you get dressed and decide on the convenience store that Vernon showed you.

Vernon isn’t much for parties, but he realises that he’s in dire need of some socialisation, so when Mingyu invites him over he says yes without thinking. He regrets it just a little when he can hear the blaring music from outside the house, giving himself a mental pep talk before walking inside. He’s immediately met with a crowded room, barely able to squeeze past the swarm of sweaty bodies. Finding any of his friends seems impossible, but the kitchen is right on the other side of the living room, so he beelines there. He grabs a beer from the fridge, and almost jumps out of his skin when he closes the door to find someone standing right next to it, expectantly looking at him. The girl is familiar, but he can’t quite remember her.

“Hey,” she says with a shy smile. “I don’t think we’ve met, at least not when I’m sober.”

The memory suddenly hits him, and the look of realisation on his face makes the girl laugh. She does look different when she’s not about to throw up all over Vernon’s shoes and the floor.

“Oh yeah, that was… A night, for sure. Hi. I’m Vernon, by the way.”

He leans against the counter next to her and cracks his beer open. The girl reaches a free hand towards him, the other cradling a cup of something, and introduces herself as Seohyun. They make small talk for a while, both of them finishing their drinks before she asks Vernon if he wants to dance. He hesitates a little, but nods anyway, and she immediately grabs his hand with a giggle before pulling him into the crowd.

They dance like that, bodies pressed a little too close together, laughing over the music and singing along to every song they know. Vernon feels weird anyway, like something is missing, even if he couldn’t pinpoint what exactly.

He has no idea how long he’s been there when he finally spots Seungkwan in the kitchen, mixing multiple drinks at once. He excuses himself for a second from Seohyun and makes his way over to his friend to greet him. Seungkwan only nods at him, and the response puzzles Vernon.

“What?” Seungkwan asks when he notices Vernon silently staring at him.

“Nothing. Having fun?”

Once again, he only nods. Vernon furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but doesn’t press on, knowing fully well that Seungkwan will eventually tell him whatever is going on.

“Have you seen Mingyu?” Vernon shakes his head no and watches as Seungkwan somehow lifts all the cups at once and disappears out of sight without as much as a bye. He wonders if he should’ve stayed home to sleep instead.

He finds Seohyun on the couch, her head lazily thrown back and her eyes glistening in the dim light. She flashes a small smile when she spots Vernon, gesturing for him to sit down.

“I’m getting kind of hungry,” she pouts at him, and he feels like this is his chance to get out.

“I know just the place.”

You’re waiting for your ramen to finish cooking, sitting in the window of the convenience store with the neon lights lazily blinking down at you. Those 5 minutes feel like forever, but you’re not hungry enough to eat raw noodles.

The street in front of you is peaceful, even though there’s barely any snow left outside once again. You wonder how your snowman is doing. You wonder how Vernon is doing.

You look up at the clock above the cashier and notice that your food is finally done. Loud giggling grabs your attention from outside the store, and you wish you got more drunk so that you couldn’t be sitting here right now. Vernon’s eyes bore into your own through the glass, an unreadable expression on his face. The girl next to him is obviously lost as to what she’s witnessing, but doesn’t say anything. You quickly gather your belongings, grabbing your dinner too, before rushing out of the store. You glance at the boy one more time, and even though he’s clearly about to say something you rush off home. Tears blur your vision and leave burning trails along your face, but you just want to be home already.

Vernon is too stunned to move, only coming back to reality when he hears Seohyun’s voice.

“Who was that?”

“Just a friend.” A friend. “Let’s go eat.”

Seohyun beams at him, but he wishes he ran after you.

New Year’s Eve comes a lot quicker than you wish it did. Fireworks start going off way before midnight, and you can’t help but be annoyed. Maybe more sad than anything else, not really knowing how to feel excited about the new year. It used to be something you found exciting, but over the years it turned into peak isolation and anxiety season for you. Not out of choice, of course, life just happens sometimes.

You haven’t talked to Vernon at all since the convenience store. You haven’t really talked to anyone lately, except for a short call with your family to wish them happy holidays. You weren’t sure what went wrong, or where, but winter always brings a crippling feeling of cosmic insignificance into your life. Loneliness slowly turns into a black hole that absorbs all light and happiness in your life, and you find it harder and harder with each passing day to reach out. By the end of the year the light is barely a pinhole, and you’re sitting in the kitchen once again, watching the fireworks in silence.

Vernon can barely recognize their apartment after Seungkwan and Soonyoung are done with decorating, even less once it’s filled with music and all their friends. He doesn’t know most of them, but for one night he can find it in himself to be okay with this arrangement. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he finds a text from Seohyun telling him that she’s outside. Vernon takes the elevator down to the first floor to let the girl in. He unlocks the door for her, and she hugs him with the brightest smile on her face. Guilt immediately floods Vernon’s chest, but he doesn’t want to back away now, after all he was the one who invited Seohyun to this party. They make their way up in silence and enter the bustling apartment, Seohyun finding Vernon’s hand quickly at the overwhelming sight.

It’s still a few hours until midnight and Vernon wonders why he ever thought this to be a good idea.

A few drinks and a lot more dancing later he already feels worn out. He’s almost a hundred percent sure that there’s people doing the worst thing imaginable in his room, and the thought alone makes him want to leave for the rest of the night. He’s way too close to actually ditching all his friends and his sort-of-date, when Seungkwan suddenly yells over the music and the crowd, telling everyone to get to the rooftop. Vernon’s never been so relieved to hear his friend yell. He lets the crowd go out first, Seohyun still by his side. They leave last, Vernon making sure to close the door behind them. He catches a mischievous glint in Seohyun’s eyes, and she challenges him to a race to the staircase at the other end of the building. He lets out a tired sigh, but the girl tugs on his arm - and possibly his heartstrings - in a way he can’t resist. So they run, giggling and being just a little too loud.

It’s only a few minutes until the new year when they finally join the others, out of breath and still laughing. He can see Seohyun’s lips moving, but can’t make out any of it over the noise of all other people present. Suddenly the cacophony turns into clear chanting, and he can faintly recognise Seungkwan who yells “ten” first. They join in to the countdown, fireworks already going off in the distance.

Three. Two. One.

The crowd erupts in cheers, fireworks going off all around them as they enter a new year. Seohyun looks up into Vernon’s eyes, getting on her tiptoes and gently grabbing the collar of his coat. It feels wrong, so wrong, to lead someone on like this, and somehow Vernon still decides to kiss her, his hands settling on her waist as their lips meet. She smiles into the kiss, one of her hands gently moving up to rest on his cheek.

“Happy new year,” Seohyun whispers, still out of breath, resting her forehead against Vernon’s. He doesn’t say it back.

His phone buzzes away on the kitchen counter, your name weakly flashing on the screen. The call disconnects, and the house falls into darkness, before lighting up once again, this time with a text.

“happy new year”

Then it’s dark again.

Soon the days start getting longer and you finally say goodbye to snowy nights. You still dream about draping your scarf around Vernon, late night grocery runs, a kitchen window that’s brighter and doesn’t make you feel like the shell of who you used to be.

However, sleep still doesn’t come easy, it never really did. You occasionally find yourself looking out the same window, the sight comforting you with its continuity. Sometimes all you have is the view and the sill where you dangle your feet into a reality where you don't feel so left behind by life.

Tonight is no different, a blanket over your shoulders as you watch over the city. The distant noise of buzzing life makes you feel at peace, and you’re about to crawl back inside when you hear someone yelling your name. The word almost sounds unfamiliar, not having heard it in a while. You look around for the source of the sound, finally spotting Vernon who blends into the night in his usual all black outfit.

“Hey,” he yells once again, and he continues before you can stop him. “Come down? Please?”

You quickly climb inside, Vernon’s voice drowned out by your heart hammering in your chest. You only put on some slippers as you run out of your apartment, fuzzy sucks on your feet and the same blanket still over your shoulder. The elevator ride seems to take forever, but you finally get down, finding Vernon right outside the building sitting on the stairs. He scrambles to his feet when he hears the door behind him open, staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face. Even though it’s dark, you can see he looks different somehow. Maybe more tired, maybe a little more sad.

“What are you doing here?” The question comes out almost as a whisper.

“I recognized your socks. That sounded a little weird, I’m sorry, I just… Haven’t seen you in a while.”

It’s true, you were focused on your exams and skipped most of your classes whenever you didn’t feel like leaving your apartment for the day. It’s also true that Vernon never called you back or replied to your text since new year’s. He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eyes after kissing Seohyun, even though he told her everything a few days later. She was very understanding, albeit understandably sad, and they did find good friends in each other with Vernon after all that happened.

“Is that my scarf?” You step closer to him, gently touching the soft fabric.

“I found it in the park. I was gonna bring it back, but then things kind of… happened,” His voice is barely above a whisper and he looks a little too deep into your eyes.

“How’s Seohyun?” You take a step back, and Vernon visibly gulps. Somehow he just knows that you’ve been talking to Seungkwan.

“I think she’s got a girlfriend now, actually. How’s your boyfriend?”

You’re taken aback by his question, his words sharp and purposeful, making you wince. He doesn’t say anything else, holding your stare as if it was a challenge. You feel the tears welling in your eyes, but neither of you move.

“Happy with someone else.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You called me down for this? Really, Vernon?” You snap at him, unwinding the scarf from his neck, tears freely racing down your face and you almost miss the front door as you push it open.

“Fuck you,” you spit at him before slamming the door shut.

Monday morning classes roll around once again, and you find yourself in your usual spot in the lecture hall. For a few weeks you sit alone, Vernon vanishing out of your life along with winter. It’s not until spring finally arrives that a familiar head of messy hair is occupying the seat next to yours by the time you arrive. You quietly settle into your chair, choosing to look everywhere except for the boy next to you. There’s still time until class starts, and you consider leaving to avoid whatever is about to happen, but Vernon is quicker, sliding a lone earphone in front of you on the desk. He patiently waits for you to pick it up and place it in your ear, one of your favourite songs already softly playing. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the class, doodling away in his notebook as usual, and it feels like winter again. When class is over Vernon hurries to leave, but you proceed to stop him in his tracks to give him the earphone back. He almost looks disappointed.

For a moment it’s only the two of you, getting lost in each other’s eyes and wondering when things turned like this, so distant and unfamiliar.

“Wanna go grab some coffee?” Vernon asks suddenly, even though he sounds a little unsure himself. It all feels like the first Monday you met.

The walk is quiet, but not in the comfortable way you’re used to. He still knows your order by heart, and somehow it just makes your chest feel even more tight. Vernon feels like a stranger and your dearest friend at the same time. Sometimes when you look at him too much you go back to the night where things still felt okay and you wonder if he ever thinks about it - about how badly you wanted to hold his hands, kiss him still lying in the snow.

“Your face is gonna stay like that if you frown so much,” he says nonchalantly as he hands you a to-go paper cup.

“I wish,” your words make him snort into his drink as he’s about to take a sip, and it makes you smile too.

You let Vernon lead the way through the neighbourhood, making small talk about all the things you missed in each other’s lives, although you don’t have much to offer having mostly sat at home. You end up on a park bench next to a small lake, and you watch as the ducks peacefully swim along. You wonder if the water isn’t still too cold for them. Vernon is still fiddling with his cup, almost looking somewhat nervous.

“I missed you,” he says quietly.

“You could’ve texted me.” He doesn’t reply. You do your best not to raise your voice. “At least say something now.”

“What the fuck do you want me to say? Confess my undying love for you? Tell you how I think about you every single day? How guilty I feel that I can’t even bring myself to look you in the eyes?” He’s looking for something, anything in your eyes, but you’re too angry to give it to him that easily.

“Maybe.”

“Oh you’re one to talk, like you’d ever tell me any of it!”

Vernon lets out a frustrated sigh, squeezing the cup in his hands until it buckles. His words fill your head, then your whole body, and you feel like your whole being is vibrating and slowly vanishing at the edges.

Maybe you’ve already fallen hard, hard enough that it did break your body in unspeakable ways. You get up to leave, barely standing on shaky legs, not completely aware of your surroundings. The ringing in your ears gets louder and the air feels a little too thick and the sink is dripping again, and you know you’ll have to get it fixed.

Cold hands come to rest on your face, Vernon’s forehead against yours and you wonder if love is supposed to hurt like this. You close your eyes, the snow is falling and your snowman is smiling at you warmly, your scarf around its neck. A teardrop rolls down your face and you open your eyes slowly.

“Are you okay?”

“Kiss me.”

A sad smile appears on his lips, his hands moving from your face and he wraps his arm around you instead, tucking your face into his neck.

“I promise I will,” He pulls away just enough to see your face. “Another time.”

Your head is still buzzing as he walks you home, gently holding your hand, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand. You’re reluctant to let go when you reach your building, and your hesitation draws a faint smile on Vernon’s face.

He leaves a kiss on your forehead before saying bye.

That night you dream about being a duck, floating on glimmering ponds in the early spring sunset. You wake up crying at 2am.

You’re on your way home after a late night grocery run when your phone starts vibrating in your pocket. Vernon’s incoming call confuses you at such an odd hour, but you pick it up anyway. It’s loud on the other end of the line, loud music and even louder screaming drowning out Vernon’s voice almost completely.

“Where are you?” He yells into the phone.

“Out. Why?” You’re not sure if he’s sober.

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, then suddenly it’s entirely quiet. You check if he’s ended the call. A loud bang reassures you that he’s still there.

“Someone’s having the worst sex I’ve ever witnessed right in my room. Are you free?” The distress in his voice makes you laugh, and you can imagine the frown on his face too well.

“You can come over if you want to, I’ll be home in a bit.”

He doesn’t need much convincing, so you hang up to finally focus on your groceries, grabbing a few extra drinks and snacks for your sudden guest. He’s sitting on the stairs in front of the building when you get home, listening to music that you can faintly make out from his headphones. He notices you as you halt to a stop right in front of him, a tired look on his face as he looks up at you. He smiles at you still and you can’t help but return the gesture.

You blindly reach into your bag, shuffling around for a can of cola that you bought for him. Your fingers finally wrap around the cold metal, and you hand the drink to Vernon, taking another one out for yourself. You take a seat on the stairs next to him, your knees slightly touching - he doesn’t move, so you don’t, either. The wind quietly shakes the barely-there leaves on the trees, and it moves something within you, too.

“I thought you like parties,” you tease him.

“You don’t know what I saw there. Consider yourself lucky, honestly.”

“I mean, you’re lucky that I’m nice enough to offer you my couch for the night.” He scoffs in response, and bumps his knee into yours.

You wonder if Vernon only exists on Mondays and at night.

His profile is sharp and soft at the same time in the flickering, orange light blinking at you from a nearby street lamp. He seems lost in thought and you don’t have it in yourself to bother him right now, not when everything feels so at peace for once. A few faint stars twinkle in the sky, and the moon looks as full as your heart feels. Spring always knew how to take your troubles away - it even happened a little too easily, the ice around your heart melting with the first golden rays of sunshine.

You know you’re going to be okay.

Almost on instinct you lean your head on Vernon’s shoulder, and you feel his arm circling your waist and squeezing gently, his head coming to rest on top of yours.

Maybe he could help you fix the dripping sink in your bathroom, too.

The lack of sleep finally finds you, the gentle breeze making both of you shiver just enough for you to make your way inside. The elevator has never felt so slow as you wait for it, but when Vernon carefully takes your hand in his, you don’t mind as much anymore. You can feel your face heating up a little, thankful when the elevator dings open. Vernon doesn’t let go of your hand, but you can also tell that his eyes are barely open, so you do your best not to think too much of it even if your skin feels like it’s on fire. You put in your passcode and walk into the small apartment, both of you kicking off your shoes before you lead him into the living room, where he collapses on the couch immediately.

It’s a little endearing somehow, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he struggles to keep his eyes. You fetch him a blanket and leave a toothbrush on the side of the sink, but he’s fast asleep by the time you get back, a throw pillow tucked under his head. You gently cover him with the blanket, and leave to get ready for bed after whispering a “good night” into the dark room.

You have a hard time falling asleep, wondering if he’s going to be there in the morning.

You dream about having his toothbrush in your cup next to yours.

You wake up to the smell of breakfast, worry flooding your mind before you remember that it’s most likely just Vernon. You slowly open your door, peeking into the kitchen to see him in front of the stove, fumbling with a pan and a pair of chopsticks.

“Smells good,” your sudden voice makes him jump, and he almost drops the pan.

“Just because I don’t know how to unlock the front door you don’t get to scare me to death.”

His focus is back on the eggs in front of him, so you slip into the bathroom to brush your teeth. You grab everything without even looking, but the toothbrush feels foreign in your hand. You look at yourself in the mirror and realise that you’re holding the one that you left out for Vernon last night. Then it hits you, he put it in the cup himself.

You quickly finish your morning routine and walk back into the kitchen where he’s sitting at the table, two plates of food set out for both of you. The sun filters in through the sheer curtain, painting everything golden, and you feel like your heart might rip out of your chest with how it’s hammering away.

Breakfast is quiet and peaceful, Vernon showing no signs of being in a hurry. You thank him for making you food as you place the dishes in the sink, only to find him staring at you when you turn back around. His eyes are soft, a smile playing at the corners of his lips, and you feel almost naked under his gaze.

“What?” You know you’re blushing, but you have nowhere to hide in the small kitchen.

“Nothing.”

The smile doesn’t leave his lips still, and you quickly excuse yourself as you rush into your room, feeling too overwhelmed. It’s weird to have someone, especially him, in your kitchen, looking so domestic and so pretty in the early morning sunlight. You can hear him doing the dishes in the other room and it almost makes you cry. By the time you gather yourself enough to face him again he’s getting ready to leave, one of his shoes already on his feet. You watch in silence, and unlock the door for him when he stands up straight.

He’s halfway out the door when he turns back around and presses a kiss to your cheek; your mouth opens and closes as you try to say something. Vernon says bye with a laugh and leaves you standing there, way too flustered to even close the door.

A neighbour appears in the hallway which prompts you to slam the door shut way too quickly and loudly, pressing your back against it and sliding to the floor.

You wonder if you’re still dreaming.

You’re running late to your morning class, having missed your alarm, feeling kind of asleep still. The seat next to yours is empty when you arrive just a few seconds before the professor, and you wish you went back to bed instead of running all the way to school.

The class is halfway through when the door quietly opens and Vernon slips in, two to-go cups in his hands. He looks completely unbothered by the fact that he’s this late as he takes his usual seat. He slides one of the drinks in front of you, your name scribbled on the side of the paper cup. You give him a confused look, but he only nods at you before taking a sip of his coffee. You do the same, quickly realising that he bought you your favourite. Maybe coming to class wasn’t the worst idea.

You leave the lecture together, coming to a halt in front of the building as Vernon spots his friends huddled together in their usual circle.

“There’s gonna be a party tonight,” he turns to you suddenly. “I want you to come.”

His eyes are intense and it makes your heart flutter.

“Okay, I’ll be there. Thank you for the drink.” You give him a soft smile.

“I was gonna be late anyway, so I figured why not.” It’s obvious that he’s not telling the truth, his cheeks turning red along with his ears. It makes you feel warm inside. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Will you watch the sunset with me before?”

With the way you’re looking at him, he doesn’t think he could say no to you, so he nods and turns to say bye. You stop him, your fingers wrapping around his arm, and you press a quick kiss to his cheek before walking away. He looks even more flustered, his feet glued in place as he watches you disappear into the morning mist.

You can hear his friends faintly as they cheer for him from afar.

It’s already getting dark when you rush out of your apartment towards the address that Vernon texted you. The air is crisp against your skin, and you realise you didn’t dress nearly warm enough to be sitting out in the cold, but it’s too late to go back home. You will yourself to a jogging speed, finally spotting Vernon in front of his complex.

“Please tell me the elevator is working,” you say, still trying to catch your breath. “My body was not made for this.”

“Well…” Vernon starts, but the look in your eyes makes him burst out in laughter. “I’m just fucking with you, it’s fine.”

“You better hope it’s fine, or you’ll get to carry me up to the rooftop on your back,” it’s his turn to give you a distraught look.

Lucky for both of you, the elevator is in working condition, so you only have to take the stairs on the last two floors. Vernon makes a show of opening the door leading up to the rooftop, a fond look on his face as he watches you take in the view. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you this happy. You turn to him and wrap your arms around him in a tight hug, muttering a “thank you” into his coat. The pink sky, along with the last few rays of sunshine make Vernon look even more angelic than you usually find him, and you wonder if he too can hear how fast and loud your heart is beating. He says something that you can’t hear from being lost in thought, but before you can ask him to repeat himself he’s pulling a blanket from his backpack and putting it down on the ground. You both take a seat, sitting close enough that your thighs are touching, your head almost immediately coming to rest on his shoulder.

The city is quietly buzzing away in the distance, glass buildings glistening pink, birds flying across the horizon. Vernon feels warm and familiar, his head on top of yours and his arm around you. You don’t remember the last time you felt so at peace.

The top of the sky is fading into blue, the last bit of sun still poking out from behind the city, but the stars are already visible. It feels like a moment you’ll remember forever.

You’re getting ready to leave, Vernon reaching a hand towards you to help you up. You watch him fold and put the blanket away in silence, and he freezes when he turns around, his backpack in his hands, finally noticing that you’re looking at him.

“What?”

He looks confused, but you simply step closer instead of replying. Your mind is a mess of incomprehensible thoughts no matter how hard you try to regain control over yourself.

“Can you kiss me?” It’s barely a whisper, your thoughts somewhere far away, somewhere where you’re lying in the snow, eating ramen under neon lights. Somehow, Vernon looks the same kind of dazed.

His bag lands on the ground with a thud, his hands cupping your face as he leans in without thinking, his lips crashing against yours almost hungrily. Your fingers find his collars easily even with your eyes closed, pulling him closer, closer, closer. Your lips move perfectly together, your hearts beating in unison. He tastes like how it feels to wake up next to someone you love, and even though his lips are cold, a warm feeling floods your whole body. You only pull away when your lungs beg you for air, and as your eyes find Vernon’s you can’t help but smile. With his hands still gently resting on your face he wipes away a few stray tears, and you turn your head to the side to press your lips against his palm.

The air feels thick from all the words left unsaid, but they can wait. For now, you’re okay with this.

“I don’t wanna go to that party anymore.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

You’re sitting at your usual table under the flickering neon lights at the convenience store, already having finished your food. For the first time in months, your chest feels light, and you’re not sure if it’s because of spring or Vernon. You don’t mind either way.

He walks you home, almost kisses you goodnight, but you pull away. He looks at you anxiously, waiting for something to happen.

“Sleep over,” you say in a small voice.

“Your couch isn’t that comfortable,” he’s only half joking, a smirk on his lips and his hands reaching to find yours.

“But my bed is.”

The smile vanishes off his face, his eyes widening, and you’re about to make up an excuse, say that you were only joking, when you notice that he’s blushing. Suddenly he nods, beaming at you, and you mimic his expression, pulling him towards the entrance.

It’s odd, having him this close, especially in your own home after having been alone in it for so long. He smells like your shampoo, and tastes like your toothpaste, and it makes you nervous and excited at the same time, your heart feeling too big for your chest.

You watch with a fond look on your face as he moves around in the apartment, and somehow it feels like this is how it’s always been, his comfortable presence filling a void you weren’t even fully aware of..

In the dark of your room, under the warm covers, he holds you against his chest as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He looks at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” His question makes you let out an airy laugh, but he waits for your answer patiently.

“Only if you promise that you’ll do it again.”

With that, his lips are on yours, softly and slowly. He’s touching you like no one did before, with so much love and patience, that you can’t help but think about how this will break your body in unspeakable ways.

When you wake up, his bag is in the corner of your room, his toothbrush is still next to yours in the cup, and the sink isn’t dripping anymore. He’s still asleep, and you trace his features in your mind, trying to memorise how beautiful he looks even like this.

You know you’ll never love anyone as much as this, not in this lifetime.

A fleeting moment of everything and nothing.

#seventeen fanfic #vernon fanfic #vernon x reader #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen drabbles #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt drabbles #svt fluff #svt angst #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #peach.fuzz #httplastic

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not-alien-girl-v · 1 year

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hii! could i request a cooper day fluff? maybe reader and coop are friends and end up confessing their feelings for each other whilst listening to music in his room (bc i feel like that fits with his vibe)

thank u 💕

warning: language

summary: short short wholesome read the ask because that’s what happens in this. not edited and reader is strong willed and ultimately mecore

“she’s so right, nothing does compare to a quiet evening alone with you,” i taunted at him. i’m not really sure how this came about, me and him, being as close of friends as we are.

i can’t even remember when we first met, he was just around a lot, and eventually we grew some type of bond between one another. for instance, we had the same taste in music and fashion, which is enough to base a friendship off of.

crushcrushcrush by paramore played over his cd player and he had settled into his bed with a graphic novel of some sort, something worth teasing him over due to how nerdy it was, and in the meantime, i found myself on the floor of his bedroom, for whatever reason, it was more comfortable than his cheap desk chair, so i didn’t mind it too much.

the day has come and passed us yet, a doctors appointment in the morning and a dinner with his family i had to endure until it was just us alone together again, as we so often are these days.

“is it?” he responded rather weakly, obviously not really hearing me. i know i tend to talk too much about anything and everything, and he does try his best to hear me out for what i really mean, but at the moment he was too invested in the book he held.

“yeah,” i collected myself up off the floor and stretched out my limbs wide into the air like a star. he stole a quick glance my way but acted as though he didn’t. back to his book went his eyes.

i came closer to him, sitting on the side of his bed and carelessly laying back, resting on his blanket covered middle.

“ow, you’re squishing me,” he whined and poked my forehead but i refused to break.

“oh deal with it, you big baby,” i stared up at the ceiling where there wasn’t anything, no decorations, just the barren white color the rest of his walls are painted, and you would be able to see had he not put posters wall to wall everywhere else. i was about to point it out to him, ask him why he chose to do that, seriously, i was on the verge of spewing the words from my mouth when he beat me to it.

“do you really like hanging out with me that much?” he didn’t look up from his book but i sensed he was jittery.

“huh?”

“when you quoted the lyrics in the song. is it true? do you really like being around me all the time?”

“of course,” the room was cold and it was autumn so there was good reason for it.

he fell silent and i let him.

“why, do you not?” i sat up and made direct eye contact, like i was about to scold him for his potentially negative answer.

“no, i do, trust me, i do.” he still wouldn’t look up from his book so i decided to break out my best attention grabbing tactics.

“so, are we in love now, or what?” never breaking eye contact once, he didn’t look away.

“well i know i am, i don’t know about you.”

my own plan worked against me. now i was the one bamboozled. “wait what?”

“you heard me.” i could not stand this for a second longer so i ripped the book out of his hands and placed it open face down on the sheets next to me, ensuring he wouldn’t lose his place.

his hands now empty, he sat up. “i’m serious. i like you. i really hope you like me too, since things are gonna be weird if you don’t, but if you don’t, it’s fine, you don’t have to.”

“wait, no, i do. i like you too, yeah, i just, i don’t know, i didn’t know if this was like… that kind of thing, what we have. i thought it was more we just stay friends for years and ignore whatever else is happening between us,” i rambled to him and he reached out and grabbed my hand to hold in his.

“i wanna be more if you wanna be more.”

i nodded, happily, with a stupid big smile on my face, “yeah, yeah, i’d like that a lot, actually. so, what? do we like make out now or something?”

he shrugged, “maybe,” and picked up where he left off in his graphic novel. i laughed and shoved his shoulder, laying back down. what an asshole.

#ahs #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters #evan peters x reader #evan peters x you #fluff #cooper day #cooper day x reader #cooper day fanfiction #cooper day fluff

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lightspren · 10 months

Text

i am anxious and 🤯 so i am typing out shit that’s worrying me to make it stop

I am worried bc there were ants in my car. I had closed some tall grass in the door and when i opened it they were running along the edge. I sprayed ant spray but then on the way home squished four on the windshield/dashboard. I need to spray for ants but given that i feel like shit i haven’t been able to yet and probably won’t tomorrow. Solution: I will ant spray Sunday or Monday. It’s fine. I’m not using my car until then anyway and the spray will kill ant society just as well as one or two ants. and it is not a moral failing to have ants in my car. shit happens.

i am still worried about fleas. Spouse has been in the basement a few times since bug guy came last and not seen any. I have not seen any in two weeks. The cats are still healing fine, don’t seem to be scratching excessively. The one that reacts so strongly is still having her fur grow back normally. We have spray for the yard that spouse can probably use next week. Solution: none, nothing needs done on this right now, it’s just a long process but it’s coming along. need to accept that everything is okay and the fleas are honestly probably dealt with. and every tickle i feel is Not a flea. and again it wasn’t a moral failing that we got fleas. shit, again, happens.

worried that i’m wasting time bc i keep just sitting like a lump staring bc i’m too tired to do anything. solution: yes free time is limited by work and you had all these grand ideas for things you could get done, but recovering from surgery comes first. pushing thru feeling awful will not make you get better. you’ll just get fewer things done, and done worse. calm down.

worried that i probably won’t feel like going and seeing my nephews again this weekend, and one of them really desperately wants me to come hang out. solution: he may be disappointed but he’ll be okay. you can visit later next week. even if he doesn’t understand fully, then it’s a learning experience. you are not failing the kids.

worried that i promised two nephews I’d make them plushies like… two months ago, and haven’t started yet. I got most of the supplies but am still missing a few, which tbh I should go see if I can order that. regardless, solution: they’ll live. you’re making the kids plushies on your own dime as a gift. they can learn patience if it takes you a while to get them done. yes they’re kids and don’t understand adult obligations, but it won’t emotionally scar them for life if it takes you a while to get the plushies done. you aren’t breaking a promise.

worried about how little it took to tank me, like two days of three hours activity each and the next two days went down the shitter. solution: fucking rest, dude. rest. REST. you had an ORGAN REMOVED and you’re chronically ill on top of that, you have. to. rest.

worried that I didn’t get to make sweets for spouses birthday today, and that i won’t feel like doing it tomorrow. solution: just. don’t make them. you know he would rather you rested than cooked things for him. you and he both know it’s just a date, and sweets could be made the next day or the next and it’s fine. you know he would feel awful if you overextended yourself to do something for him. if you can’t make them tomorrow it’s genuinely just fine.

okay i think. that’s it. really the overall solution here is that there is nothing life or death on my to do list, and the obligations i’ve made can easily be rearranged or postponed, and that won’t make anyone hate me or lead to all out apocalypse. it’s okay. everything is okay. i need to rest tomorrow. if I feel like it, I can write, and make the candied citrus, and maybe put the paint samples on the wall, but I should not attempt to do anything more. and at spouses gentle suggestion I have not set an alarm, so i will sleep in tomorrow and hopefully it doesn’t fuck up my sleep schedule but I probably desperately need the extra sleep.

you’d think I would be used to being sick and having to rearrange my life around it, given i’ve been chronically ill for a decade plus, but apparently I’m going to be frustrated and anxious about it Forever. sigh.

ETA I’m also fucking anxious about my story bc i’m afraid it’s cliched or dumb or unoriginal or the characters aren’t developed enough or BLAH BLAH. soliton: YOU ARENT DONE WRITING IT YET. FIX IT LATER. and also you’re writing for YOU, yes I’d love if some people also loved my story but ultimately it is for ME, so calm tf down. you can get second opinions on it when you’ve fixed the rough draft into. first draft.

#kit talks #i do think it helped to write it out though #the logical paths are Right Here now instead of swirling around my head and getting tripped on each other #now i just need to sleep #alphabet soup of chronic illnesses #kit surgery talk

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harryconcepts · 2 years

Text

part 39

ugh I agree he would literally kill you with his dick 😔 he makes you look in his eyes so he can see everything he's doing to you and how good he's making you feel 😔 when you close them or look away he gives you a little tap on your cheek and says "keep your eyes on me baby, want to look at them while i make you cum" 😔 he's hitting all the right spots to have you gasping and making desperate little noises under him, and he smirks saying "I know, feels good hm? feel me in your tummy?" and presses his hand on your lower stomach to make you scream 😔 you clutch his wrist because it feels so good you don't know else to express it and he just smiles bc he knows he's the best 😔 then he reaches down to rub your clit and whispers "cum for me, right now" 😔

jack chambers tells you not to touch yourself 🫡 he says "that's only for me to do, I'm the only one who gets to make you feel good like this" 🫡 and when he comes home to find you in bed touching yourself he's so pissed bc he told you not to, so he's throwing his briefcase down and pulling off his tie aggressively 🫡 he grabs your wrists and uses his tie to secure them to the headboard, the whole time saying "always such a fucking brat, i give you one rule and you can't even follow that? am I not good to you? don't i give you what you want?" and you're whining, saying you're sorry and that you want to touch him, but he just says "you don't get to touch, not tonight" 🫡 he gives you a little slap on your thigh when you try to close your legs and he says "you better fucking keep them open, or I'll tie those down too" 🫡

him looking down at you with a little smile on his face bc he loves his little wife 😌 listening to you go on and on as he's fastening his tie and zipping up his coat, nodding as you ramble on 😌 then he catches your chin between his fingers and squishes your cheeks a little, kissing you and saying "I'll see you later my pretty girl" 😌

no literally jack is so mean 😭 biting you to mark you up so everyone knows who you belong to, edging you to show you that he's in control 😭 throwing you around in bed bc he's in charge and he wants you to know it 😵‍💫

exactly hes looking down at you nodding and smiling but he's not listening he's just watching your pretty face 😌 he knows he'll convince you in no time 😌

oh yes he would always be all "no one's gonna hear 😌 no one's gonna find us 😌 just shut your pretty little mouth and let me make you feel good 😌" backing you up against the wall as you weakly protest (even though you're not really protesting at all 😌) he's looking down at you saying "gonna let me do that? no one's gonna care if they hear some noises, they'll know better than to bother us" and finally you nod knowing he's right, and yes ofc he would end up covering your mouth with his giant hand bc you just can't stay quiet 😌

sex with Harry would be so giggly always 🥹 his hand slips and he nearly falls or he bumps his head on the headboard or he accidentally pulls your hair and you're just both so happy 🥹

my chronic illness makes it so hard for me to shower bc i always feel so bad in there 😭 like i get dizzy and my heart rate goes waaaay up and I feel so gross instead of relaxed and refreshed and I need harry to help me 😔 ik he would wash your hair for you and be so sweet the whole time 😔

let me project for a second i have so much anxiety about sex and other physical stuff (thank you religious trauma 🤩) and know harry would literally be so amazing all the time 😔 letting you know that there's nothing to worry about, he's never going to do anything you don't feel ready for, and if you decide that's something you want that he has no expectations and just wants to make you feel good 😔 and he's so good with the emotional side too, making sure you feel supported and safe no matter what 😔 and UGH he would never make you feel bad if it got too overwhelming and you needed to stop, he would just be so worried and make sure you're okay 😔 he would spend lots of time laying with you and holding you close, letting you talk about it if you wanted or just being there for you 😔

him being the first one to make you cum more than once 😌 after your first you're breathing so hard and trying to come down, and he leans up to kiss your face and says "how about another?" and your eyes go wide bc you've never tried that before, but he reassures you that he'll stop if it's too much he just wants to see if he can do it 😌 so you agree and he smirks, giving you a little kiss before he moves his fingers back down 😌 and you gasp against his lips bc you're so sensitive it almost hurts, but he just shushes you gently and keeps working 😌 you're tired and a little worn out but it feels so good, so you're moaning softly and moving your hips up to meet his fingers 😌 then he leans down to kiss your ear and whispers "give me one more, such a good girl" 😌

we're not feral rn but we could be 😌 so let's talk about harry fingering you! i know he teases the hell out of you and keeps pulling away when you try to move your hips up for more 😌 he says "nuh uh baby, we're going slow right now, so you have to be patient and take what i give you" and you whine but try to stay still because you know he'll hold out on you if you're not good 😌 when he finally slips his fingers inside you tip your head back on the pillow, but he pulls them right back out and clicks his tongue saying "you know i need to see your eyes or we're gonna stop" and you shake your head so fast saying "no, please i don't want to stop" and he uses your other hand to stroke your cheek and turn your head back to him and he says "then you know what to do, keep your pretty eyes on me" and reaches back down 😌

please god I need hate sex with Harry 😔 you don't actually hate him you're just annoyed that he's so hot and everyone likes him so much, and he's annoyed with you because you don't throw yourself at him like all the other girls do so there's much animosity between the two of you 😌

harry asking you how you touch yourself 😌 it's the first time or one of the first times you've hooked up and he knows you're a little nervous so he just wants to warm you up a bit 😌 he asks what you like, what things you do, and he probably asks if you'll show him 😌

WELL 😌 you buy a few pre rolled blunts as always, you can never quite figure out how to roll them yourself and harry gives you a discount on them bc you're pretty 😌 then you say something like "I really appreciate this by the way, I've never been able to get the hang of rolling them myself" and he's all "well I'm more than happy to help, but i could show you if you wanted?" and you agree, wanting to spend a little more time with him 😌 so he sits you down and gets all the supplies he needs 😌 he's talking in a low voice, narrating all his movement while you watch closely 😌 then when it's your turn he sits closer to you, watching you to make sure you're figuring it out and when you mess up a bit you're embarrassed and apologizing but he just shake his head saying "that's alright, we're learning aren't we?" and helps you fix it 😌then when you're done you're so proud of yourself and he's so happy to see you smile, and you turn to show him the results of your hard work and you realize he's much closer than he was before 😌 then you're glancing down at his lips and he's doing the same to yours, and he whispers "you did a great job" and that makes you blush like he knew it would, and he strokes your warm skin with his fingers 😌 you say "well I had a great teacher" and he hums, eyes fixed on your lips as you talk 😌 soon you've had enough of the tension and him not making a move so you huff "will you just-" and pull him in by the collar of his shirt 😌

Harry's always trying to make you cum more than once 🥵 you're out of breath but he just says "please, give me one more, I know you can baby please" 🥵

i think Harry isn't a huge fan of car sex, there's the privacy issue and it's always a bit crowded, but sometimes he just needs you 😋 so he's pushing his seat back as far as it goes and pulling you to sit on his lap so he can slip inside you 😋you're kissing the whole time and he groans when you slow down and grind your hips against his, and then he's had enough of the teasing so he grips your sides and thrusts up into you 😋

harry knows you get cold at night so he's always making sure to have lots of extra blankets 🥹 he has way more on the bed than he would need to be comfortable, but he would rather be way too hot than let you be cold 🥹

thinking about hooking up with bsf Harry for the first time 😌 he's been your friend for as long as he can remember and he's had a crush on you for almost as long, and now he's finally getting a chance to show you how much he likes you 😌 he would do so much for you, going down on you at least twice bc he just wants to please you 😌

i would never leave harry alone I'm always gonna be touching his ass and pinching his nips and poking his dimples and squishing his cheeks and tickling the backs of his knees and kissing his tummy 😋

harry with his little witchy gf ☹️ he doesn't understand why you have so many crystals and candles and other stuff but he loves how happy it makes you ☹️ he doesn't mind when you start staying at his house more often and you bring a few crystals with you and he always asks what they're for bc you love talking about it and he loves seeing you so excited ☹️ you give him jewelry with special meanings and he's so happy to wear it for you bc it reminds you of him ☹️ he would ask you to do a tarot reading and then he would make up his own interpretation of every card being all "hmm yup that one means we're going to be together forever 😌 oh and that one actually says you're supposed to give me a kiss now!" and he's such a pest ☹️

harry knows sometimes you get a little insecure about having cellulite so he would be so sweet and kiss all over telling you how much he loves you ☹️ saying "such a sweet girl, love you so much you know that? just want to kiss everywhere" with his lips on your skin the whole time ☹️

stop he would always help you out in little ways but he never really mentions it ☹️ little things he knows you're insecure about, he always tries to help you feel better but he doesn't directly bring it up unless you do ☹️ until then it's lots of soft kisses and gentle fingers, saying such sweet words to make you smile ☹️

having one of those days (or weeks) where you're just insatiable and you're throwing yourself at Harry constantly 😌 he would be like "oh we're doing this again? I'm not sure what's gotten into you but i must say I'm a fan 😌"

harry always always buries his face in your neck bc he just thinks you smell so good 🥹 your natural scent comforts him and helps him sleep when he's cuddled up to you 🥹 he comes home from a hard day and lays on top of you on the couch, putting his arms around you and takes a deep breath 🥹

ugh this is harry who stops going down on you when you're not making enough noise for him ☹️ he says "let's try that again, need to hear you or we're gonna stop" ☹️

harry loves to have you ride his thigh to show him how needy you are 😋 you're begging him to fuck you but he says "you want it that bad? get yourself off on my leg then" and watches your face when you cum 😋

ugh harry would be so mean like that 💔 pushing down on your tummy to feel how deep he is and saying "being such a good girl for me, letting me fuck you like this" and "sure you can take it? you look like you're about to cry, baby" and you shake your head saying "I can take it, I can" and he just smirks and pulls your leg up to hook around his hip and pushes in even deeper, making you gasp out for him💔 then he says "seems like someone was a little too cocky before, hm?" 💔

i want to go camping with harry but it's not camping it's staying in a big secluded area in our $50,000 camper having sex 6 times a day and being alone together 🫶🏻he would definitely be more filthy when you're camping 🫶🏻 he says the fresh air makes him feel more manly and he just wants to throw you around 🫶🏻and you go outside in the morning to see him sitting on the little porch sipping some coffee while he watches the sunrise 🫶🏻 he's not wearing a shirt bc he's a whore 🫶🏻 and he opens his arm so you can come sit on his lap 🫶🏻 you lay your head on his shoulder bc it's too early to be awake and he holds his coffee up to your lips so you can have some 🫶🏻 he kisses your forehead and rubs your back 🫶🏻and later that night he would definitely convince you to do it outside, on the ground by the fire 🫶🏻 looking at the fireflies blinking above you and how you can see millions of stars 🫶🏻

harry would pop up next to you in bed one night and he like "babe what's your top 5 favourite times we've had sex" and you were halfway asleep but you look over at him like huh???? and he's propped up on one elbow staring down at you and says "just tell me, what were the 5 best times" and you roll your eyes and say "I'm going to sleep" and he pouts and says "pleeeeease I need to know it's important" and you roll over, but he just follows you and puts his hand on your shoulder, leaning over your body to look at you and says "what about the time when we were camping? ooooh or after your sister's wedding? that was pretty good 😌" and you mumble "we can talk in the morning go to sleep" and he's like "promise?" and you nod, taking his arm and cuddling up to it like always 😔 finally he settles down and then says "I'm gonna hold you to that" and kisses your ear 😌

then the next morning he wakes you up by leaning over you and staring at your face until you open your eyes and try to shove him away, but he says "no no it's morning, so now you have to tell me" and you groan knowing he's not going to let this go, so you say "okay maybe.... that time after we were in the pool was really good" and he's sooo cocky getting you to admit it 😌 he says "yeah? what else?" and you think for a bit, then say "the night after you came home from tour... I thought I was going to die" and he smirks, leaning in to kiss your cheek and says "but in a good way, right?" and you nod leaning into him 😌 then you say "and there was also that time..." and you're blushing so much but he's all yesss go on? so you say "okay that time when you, um, you used- a vibrator on me" and he has the most evil smile on his face and says "oh yeah? that was good for you?" and you nod, watching his lips as he leans closer, then he uses his grip on your chin to turn your head so he can whisper in your ear "we'll have to try that again then, won't we?" 😵‍💫

no literally he would say "you can pretend you don't like it when I'm mean to you but your pussy's making a mess down here so... who am i gonna believe"

after you've been kissing for a few minutes he moves down between your legs and thumbs you open, then he makes a tsking noise and says "your pretty peach is dripping baby, is it that easy to get you ready for me?" and his voice is just a little condescending while he holds your legs open and won't let you close them😵‍💫 and the more you squirm bc it feels too good the tighter he holds you ❤️‍🩹 he says "do you need me to tie you down? no? then stop fucking moving" ❤️‍🩹

STOP IT he's always so mean to you, dragging the ice cube down your tummy to see you squirm ☹️ touching your clit with his cold fingers and smirking when you gasp and arch your back ☹️ getting you soaked with the ice cube and then he closes his mouth over you to clean it up ☹️ he says "you're dripping for me baby, let me take care of that" ☹️

ugh just feeling absolutely feral for that week, and you don't want to tell harry bc you don't want to be weird but he can tell you just need to be all over him and he's loving it 😋 then after he's made you cum twice and you're still reaching for him he's like "what has gotten into you?" and you're too turned on to be annoyed so you just say "just shut up and let me ride you" and he's like yes ma'am 😋

ugh I need to ride harry..... he would be obsessed with the noises you make and how you're using him a little bit to get yourself off...... he stares down at where he's sliding into you and stretching you out 😵‍💫he has a tight hold on your hips and he's saying the filthiest stuff like "taking me so well baby, always feel so good for me" and reaches down to thumb over your clit 😵‍💫

harry would actually have you so turned on that you're shaking before he goes down on you, and then he would make you cum at least once before he even thinks about penetration and that's so sexy

once you let it slip to harry that you like being edged sometimes he would never let you know peace 😵‍💫 he has his fingers inside you, working you up and up and making you look in his eyes 😵‍💫 he's hitting all the right spots and whispering absolute filth in your ear, and soon he feels you start to tense up and you whimper "I'm close" and he just pulls his fingers out, smiling and saying "no you're not" and he licks his fingers clean 😵‍💫 your head tips back and you're pouting bc this is the third time tonight he's done this, so he just pouts back at you and runs his thumb over your lip saying "don't give me that, you told me you wanted this" and you whine because he's right, this is exactly what you wanted, he's just being mean bc you both get off on it 😵‍💫

lynnie that was a hate crime.... he would blow on you and laugh when you squirm, using his grip on your hips to hold you still 🥲 telling you to be good for him as he's teasing you 🥲

having a really hard day at work, you call harry as soon as you get out to the parking lot and he can tell that you're crying 😔 he asks if there's anything he can do, and you say no but ask if he can come over when you get home and he says of course he can 😔 he stops to grab your favorite food for you, and he bring an extra hoodie of his for you to wear 😔 when he gets there you're on the couch, still crying, and he comes over to hold you 😔 he lets you lean your head on him and just cry for as long as you need, and he doesn't ask questions or say anything even when you're getting his shirt wet 😔 he strokes your hair and rocks you a little bit, just trying to help you through it 😔 and after a while when you've calmed down some and not crying so much anymore, he reaches over to the coffee table and hands you the food he stopped for 😔 he puts his arm around you and turns on the tv to find your favorite show, and you eat together while you watch 😔

harry loves his lil pregnant wife 😋 he's always touching your belly and saying "well hello there😌" and doing everything he can for you, never wanting you to lift a finger 😋 he also loves to make you cum more than ever, he just wants to please his wife who's giving him a baby 😋

ugh and riding him when you're pregnant, he knows you get tired so much more easily so when he can tell you're starting to slow down he just grabs your hips and starts thrusting up into you, letting you lean on him and moan how good it feels 😔

thinking about doing a little nakey photoshoot with harry 😌 he would definitely use a Polaroid camera, it's safer that way and he just likes the aesthetic 😌 he would pick some lingerie for some of them, but they're mostly completely naked 😌 he knows exactly how to help you pose to make you look ✨sexy✨ and he's praising you the whole time which makes you feel very confident 😌 soon he has to take a little break to kiss you because you're just too pretty 😌 then he pulls back and reaches down to rub at your clit, and he takes a picture of your face as you moan 😌

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you #harry styles fanfiction

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timeworncalamity · 2 years

Note

how bOUT

🍀☕️😨 for Marlowe

🌹 ✏️👖 for Val

🔧💥🤥 for Eli

BITES YOU

EHEHEHEHHE JUST FOR U BESTIE TEE HEE ~ SLAPS U WITH THESE

~Marlowe~

🍀 CLOVER - do they believe in luck? are they lucky?

-Marlowe totally believes in luck! She is literally just such a happy go lucky person and has been through so much before she finally settled down in Downpour that she counts herself as lucky to be here with her friends.

☕️ HOT BEVERAGE - do they prefer hot or cold drinks? what is their favourite drink?

- Oh for sure cold drink. She spends alot of her time out in the sun especially near beaches if she can so she loves cold juice, especially OJ. This girl just has a massive love for orange juice for some reason.

😨 FEARFUL - when scared, do they go into “flight” or “fight”?

-Marlowe goes straight into fight mode. She might be small but if threatened or scared she is ready to throw hands. She might look frail but trust me, she can actually throw ppl through walls and lift more than most the men she hangs out with. She is insanely strong.

~Val~

🌹 ROSE - do they like valentines day? have they been confessed to before? have they confessed to anyone before?

-Val loves Valentine's Day! They are such a lover that they enjoy just getting the people they care about little gifts to make them smile. I…. Idk if it counts as a confession but one year Hunter mistook the holiday for being a day all about Val and spoiled them for it. It wasn’t on Valentine’s Day but Val did confess their feelings to Hunter.

✏️ PENCIL - is there a particular quote / lyric that you associate with them?

- “Uh, ‘cause the world might do me in; It’s alright ‘cause I’m with friends.” - Ghost : Mystery Skulls makes me think of Valentine a lot. Val is a shy and nervous person but because of their friends and through helping Hunter learn how to express himself they have built up their own confidence and become braver. They can really come out of their shell and nothing around them matters if they have their friends.

👖 JEANS - what is their go-to outfit?

-Val usually wears the nice cozy leather jacket that Hunter got for them. It’s also a custom jacket so it has patches and things that fit Val’s interests and it makes them really happy and means alot. They also wear a soft dark blue shirt with lighter blue pattern and comfy loose capri joggers that dont squish their feather floof too much. Lots of times you will also find Val wearing a full face mask. This mask looks intimidating but its actually just bc they do alot of street painting and the mask ventilates the fumes.

~Eli~

🔧 WRENCH - are they good at fixing relationships? or do they tend to avoid doing so?

-Absolutely not. Eli is horrible at fixing relationships usually because he just doesn’t care to. He only has like 2 people that he actually cares about and anyone outside of those people he gives zero fucks what they think or how they feel. Now if he hurts someone he actually cares about it will take him a hot minute to get over himself but he will eventually try in his own way to apologize but he’s horrible at it.

💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

-Eli struggles with showing love and happiness. He is filled with so much anger and has so much pain in his heart that he doesn’t let anyone get close to him. He has built up walls and only focuses on his work and has become so addicted to the wrath that he had forgotten what it was to really just take a step back and enjoy things in life. Dude really needs a break and relax, he is so intense and honestly hurting so deep down that he has just…. Forgot how to be happy.

🤥 LYING - are they good liars? do they have tells to show they’re lying?

-Eli is an excellent liar. Mostly because he has a resting bitch face, something fierce and his expression hardly ever changes. Eli can lie but honestly he doesn’t really lie often, mostly bc he hardly interacts with people to begin with let alone bother to waste his time spinning a lie for them. The only way you might be able to tell he’s lying is his tail feathers might poof ever so slightly.

#Elicore #Valcore #Marlowecore #HERE TAKE THESE #I hope they are okay and make sense ASLKFHKLADF #HNG #answered asks #polarvoid #I LOVE DOING THESE ASJKHFKJADSF

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peachesofteaches · 3 years

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Queen Peaches 🍑 would you bless us with a blurb. Like maybe y/n is studying for uni and it’s taking up a lot of her time so Damon gets all needy and sad but when he shows up she’s having a meltdown bc she’s so stressed and he just babies the fuck out of her and maybe a soft blowjob.

HERE YOU GOO! So cute v fluff. Enjoy

Word count: 2,604 (18+ filth)

Damon stood in the living room of his girlfriend's childhood home, politely dismissing her grandmother to make his way upstairs to her bedroom. The old stairs creak beneath him as he nears her door. It reminds him of when she still lived here before she went to college. He was always intrigued with her, coming to check on her in the middle of the night or press his ear against the wood to listen to her, Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena during a sleepover.

With the end of term approaching, Y/N chose to come home to study. Damon remembers her mentioning how she wanted to spend more time with her grandmother so he didn’t bother trying to coax her into staying at his place. Usually, she comes over for sleepovers almost nightly, but recently she’s been studying in her room, isolating herself from her friends and her boyfriend.

It’s not by choice- he knows. Yet, this is how she handles stress, as unhealthy as it is. He misses her though. Misses the sound of her laugh and her smell surrounding him. The pitter-patter of her feet in the boarding house. Finding locks of her hair everywhere. She hasn’t texted him back all day, or anybody for that matter, and after a long talk with Bonnie about how Y/N stresses herself to the point where she gets sick, he decided to intervene before things got bad.

He hasn’t been up to her old bedroom in years but when he opens her door, it all comes rushing back in an instant. The walls of her room are still painted a faint yellow and fairy lights are strung up across the wall, casting a warm glow across the room. Posters decorated her walls along with an assortment of framed photographs that had gathered dust over the years. Her bedspread was still white, holding a pile of pastel stuffed animals that all stared at him as he walked in the room. His eyes fell on his girlfriend who sat at the white desk facing the window, headphones over her ears, aggressively typing on her computer.

Cold coffee mugs cluttered up the corners of her desk along with assorted pens and pencils and could hear the quiet thrumming of Deftones playing through her headphones. Not wanting to startle her, he picked up a build-a-bear off her bed and threw it against the legs of her chair. Her shoulders tensed before she turned around with a furrowed brow, softening when she saw Damon standing by her window.

She pulled the headphones off her ears, laying them against the keyboard of her laptop. “What did Peach ever do to you?” She said, leaning over to pick up the pink plush bear and hold it against her chest.

Damon smirked and walked over to her, bending down on his knees to kiss her deeply, fingers tangling in her hair. He could feel her body relaxing into the kiss and her hold on the bear loosened until it laid in her lap, staring at Damon with beady, plastic, eyes.

When they pulled apart Y/N’s hand went to her lips, feeling the tingling sensation that arose. “Hey.” She greeted, her cheeks turning a pink tint that blended in with the glow of the fairy lights across her walls.

“Hey.” He responded, bringing his hands to rest on her knees where he squeezed assuringly. “How’s the studying going?” He peered over to the computer, finding a written essay on a google doc. The side of the document was heavy with comments and edits made at different points during the day.

She sighs, glancing at her laptop. “I finished my research paper. I’m just trying to edit it now.”

“You finished everything else though?”

She nods quietly, blinking at the words on the screen. He draws her eyes back to him by swiveling her desk chair back and forth. “What's wrong, cutie?” He juts out his lower lip when he finds tears glistening behind her eyes.

She shakily raises a hand and swipes at her eyes before the tears fall. “I’m just mad. At myself. Nothing sounds good and I used the word ‘and’ too much. It sounds stupid.”

“How long have you been working on this?”

“Seven hours.” His mouth falls open at her answer. He doesn't know why he’s surprised. Her eyes are squinting and she’s worked a wrinkle between her eyebrows from staring at the computer so intensely. He wishes she would wear her glasses while she was working, but she’s always losing them and never wants to wear them. Her lip quivers as she snaps shut the lid of the laptop. “It’s awful.”

Tears fall from her eyes, marking up her doll-like cheeks in wet trails.

“Awh, baby.” He draws her in for a hug, wrapping his arms around her torso when her head falls to his shoulder. Her shoulders quiver with the oncoming sniffles and tears that prick at the cotton of his shirt. “Shh, shh. You’re under a lot of pressure right now and you’re probably really tired. Hmm?”

She doesn't answer, just cries into his shoulder letting the weight of the stress she’s holding melt onto her boyfriend. He holds her steadily, slightly rocking them side to side as she works to calm herself down.

“Listen,” he said, taking her face into his hands. “Let’s get you cleaned up and take a little nap. I’ll wake you up in an hour so you can get back to work, ok?”

“No-” She protests before Damon holds up a finger, hushing her retort.

“Ah-Ah. How about tomorrow we can go bother old Stefan and get him to read your paper before you turn it in? He’s always been better at that kind of stuff than I am. Then after we can go see a movie, or do whatever you want.”

It takes her a minute before she nods with her cheeks squished between his palms, letting her body fall forward when he brings her close for a kiss. “C’mon, now,” Damon says, gently pulling her to her feet by her elbow and wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her as they shuffle into the bathroom.

Under the harsh white light of her bathroom, Damon can see the purple shade underneath her normally bright eyes. Her face looks so dejected and exhausted that it makes his chest twinge with an ache to hold her. They share soft words as Damon hands her a damp washcloth to wipe her tear-stained cheeks with. He combs through her hair with a brush, sighing at the silkiness of her locks. Y/N’s eyes melt closed as he brushes, the soft bristles against her scalp soothing her.

Damon’s got her into a pair of panties and one of his old shirts, which has been hiding in one of her drawers for the past two years. He knows she finds comfort in wearing his clothing, similar to how he finds comfort in smelling hers.

He tugs the hem of the shirt down to her thighs, smiling slightly when she leans into him for support. He strokes her back reassuringly, pecking the fleshy part of her cheek. “Have you eaten anything today?”

She shakes her head against his chest and Damon frowns because if she hasn’t eaten anything today he doubts she’s eaten the other days it’s been like this. “I can’t eat right now… too anxious.” She says, her voice muffled in his chest.

Damon sighs, peeling back the top corner of her white comforter and situating her beneath it. “Then I’ll make you something when you wake up. Deal?”

“Mmm.” She mumbles, stretching out her arms to Damon. “Cuddle with me?”

After kicking off his boots, Damon slips into the bed beside her, instantly bringing her body to his chest. She nestles her nose against the warmth of his throat, her breath soft as she exhales against the skin. They sit in silence for a while, soaking up the warmth of one another. With all the stress of dead week, Y/N has hardly had time to share with Damon. It makes her feel like a terrible girlfriend.

She’s been shut in her room, pouring over term papers and projects, giving them her all, and exhausting herself to the bone. She just wants to do well. Wants to be proud of herself. The thought of school has her tensing again and her ever-so-aware boyfriend notices, beginning to massage between her shoulder blades.

“Just relax, baby. I got you.” He assures her, dropping sweet kisses onto her hairline. His body feels so warm and sturdy beneath her that it spreads an all-too-familiar feeling throughout her body. His hands are rubbing gentle patterns into her skin as arousal grows in her abdomen. She shuffles a bit on his chest before she lifts her head, peering at him through the layers of hair in front of her face.

“You should try to sleep.” Damon’s voice is gravely, she can hear sleepiness in it. She sits up so her legs straddle his hips.

“I just want- I want to-” Tears prick at the corners of her eyelids and need bubbles in her chest so harshly she feels like she might go into a fit. “I want to suck you off.” The words slip from her quickly before she can catch him. Usually, Damon’s having to coax her wants out of her with teasing measures except that now she’s too tired to care and she just needs something to hold onto.

Damon rests his hands on her thighs, rubbing his thumb at the skin. Her eyes are beady, glistening in the fairy lights of her bedroom. “Baby, let's get some rest, hmm?” He tries to brush off the subject because he’s worried this is tired Y/N talking and he doesn't want to start anything if she’s second-guessing herself.

“No!” She whines, jutting out her bottom lip. “I don’t want to rest right now, I can’t. I need you.”

His mouth forms a slight ‘o’ o shape when he realizes how she needs him. Soft, coaxing, supportive. He drums at the top of her thigh as a way of giving her permission to situate herself between his legs. Her head comes to rest on his hip bone where her warm breath sends goosebumps along the skin. Damon’s sensitive to her touch right now. They haven’t had sex in a couple of days and it has his mind spinning with filth. As much as he tries to hide how much he’s aroused- this is her show after all- he can’t help the semi that stretches the crotch of his jeans.

With a small hand, Y/N presses her palm against the tent of his pants, squeezing over the bulge and biting down on her bottom lip when Damon cranes his neck against her pillow, his mouth falling open in pleasure. She wants to make him feel good because he does so much for her. He’s patient and understanding. He doesn't see her crying fits over school as silly or naive.

With dainty fingers, Y/N pops open the button on Damon’s jeans earning a soft, relieved, sigh from him. She pushes away the rest of his clothing before taking his dick into her hands, sliding him into her mouth. She sucks and licks at the pinkish tint of his member before relaxing her jaw and filling her mouth.

Damon groans loud, reaching up a hand to brush away the fallen strands of hair that gather in front of her pretty eyes. He wants to watch her face while she sucks him off and his arousal grows when he sees her eyes closed and her face relaxed as she bobs her head. Her head comes up to lick repeatedly at his slit. His hips jolt with her movements, bucking up into the velvety insides of her mouth when she opens up for him again.

“Fuck, baby. You’re so good at that.” He murmurs, composing himself to finger-comb her hair behind her shoulders. One of her hands wraps around the base of his cock, squeezing with two fingers. She gazes up at him through thick eyelashes, taking in his pleasured expression. It urges her on further and she goes so deep that the tip of her nose brushes against the skin above his groin.

He has one hand holding onto her thighs while the other strokes her cheek softly with a thumb. “So good, baby doll. Right there.” He praises her with a soft voice that makes her feel taken care of and small. Her body is warm with the affection that swirls inside of her. She’s already starting to notice how her brain is calming down. She can only focus on Damon and it makes her feel a lot better. She knows she’s doing a good job with this because he’s told her before and his expression is pure bliss.

“You’re so perfect, you know?” He continues stroking her cheek so gently the act alone makes her want to cry. How he can be so gentle while she’s giving him her best head, she doesn't know, but she’s not complaining one bit. The reassurances are all part of the fun. “My perfect girl. I love you so much.”

She moans around him, feeling the wetness of precum slipping down her throat. He gives her little warning about his incoming orgasm, panting at her to get off before he comes but she stays where she is, continuing her pulse until he’s coming hard into her mouth. Spurts hit the back of her throat, coating her mouth in the stickiness that tastes sweet yet bitter at the same time. She swallows the cum gratefully before she pops off, a string of spit stretching from his tip to her mouth.

She smiles as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Holy shit, babe.” She crawls up beside the bed, situating herself on her side in the crook between his arm and his torso. “You don’t want a turn?” He asks, gazing at her tender expression. She shakes her head, blinking sleepily.

“No, I just want snuggles.”

He finds her lips and takes them to his, kissing her passionately. He can still taste himself on her lips, they’re sticky and he wants to coax her into the bathroom to brush her teeth but her eyes are growing heavier by the second and soon, she’s asleep.

~*~*~

He’s done some tidying up around the room, took down the coffee mugs that crowded the surfaces in her room once he made sure her grandmother was sleeping in her bedroom. He unplugged the fairy lights and switched on her bunny nightlight, tucking Peach beneath her arm then situated himself in bed beside her, stroking her back. Then, as promised, he wakes her up an hour later. Something tells him she won’t be waking up to edit her paper but he does it anyway to avoid her being upset with him later.

“Hey, baby girl.” He coos, playing with her hair until her eyes peel open slightly. The bunny night light casts a pink glow across her face that she turns away from, burying her face back into his chest. “It’s been an hour, do you want to get up?”

“No.” She pouts, sleepily pushing his shirt off his body. “Can you spend the night?”

He takes off his shirt and pushes off his jeans. He knows she likes the feeling of his skin against hers. It’s warm and smells like Damon. He situates himself on his back, pulling her close once more. “Sure.” He agrees, his whispers landing against her cheek.

#yeah #this was fun #obsessed with teen bedrooms in #film #so I had to write about one #damon salvatore #tvd damon #tvd #the vampire diaries #tvd fanfiction #damon x reader #damon x y/n #damon salvatore smut #damon salvatore x reader #tvd smut

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mrskurono · 3 years

Text

title: Fat Girl a/n: I really appreciate when writers write chubby!readers but honestly I need more than thicc thighs and a cute tummy. This is self indulgent as shit bc I have an “apple” body type and chubby!reader doesn’t fit my body type per say + might turn this into a series idk + I’m a fat chick so don’t get your panties in a bundle word count: 1k tags: the usage of the word “fat” often, smut, vaginal penetration, soft but horny Suna, breeding kink ish, creampie, dirty talk, established relationship, chubby chaser Suna character(s): Rintaro Suna (hq)

Rintaro was a glutton. Head to toe. He was just that. A glutton.

Calloused and strong middle blocker hands made to stop volleyballs looked the best when they were grabbing fistfuls of your love handles. This he would tell you until the day he died. His body was for you first. Volleyball second.

Those same giant hands were holding onto your handles like his life depended on it. Long fingers pressed into the soft fat of your sides and sweat dripping down his nose as he stared down at you. Stalling his hips just for his sake and nothing more. If he moved anymore he was certain he’d loose himself. And he didn’t want it to end just yet.

“Shit-” His chest heaved with a shaky breath. Rintaro’s love drunk gaze turned down to you and only you under him, “Look at you-”

Handsy as ever. Rintaro couldn’t figure out where to look or what to grab first. Every stretch mark over your stomach and chest was a map to another wonderful area of your body he craved. He could mold his hands into your supple stomach. Squish your breasts together and lick along the stretch marks. Or he could slip his cock out of you and slide his length along your fat cunt lips. He wanted to do it all. Plain and simple. Rintaro was a glutton for you.

“Shut up.” You roll your head back with a groan leaving your slightly parted lips. Hips bucking up to meet his with some kind of friction after he stopped, “...You’re just saying that.”

Rintaro shook his head. Leaning himself down to catch your lips on his. Not about to resume a quick pace like he had been. Instead the middle blockers hips flexed with short snaps of his cock into you. Burying himself down to the hilt each time. Leaving you to do nothing short of moan on his lips and grip his forearms when he hovered above you.

Another thing he savored. All that extra warm skin and you could enveloped his long cock. Rintao never felt like this about someone before. He was stupidly drunk on the idea of loving you more and more each day.

“You’re so fucking hot-” He moaned against your lips, biting needy at your bottom one when your breath hitches and breaks the kiss, “Everything. I want it.”

Before you could wrap your arms around his shoulders. Rintaro leaned back up. Hooking his hands in your hips and smiling as all your extra tummy covered his hands when he yanked you down fully on his cock. Nestled so perfectly inside you. He swore you were made for him in more ways than one. Only thinking in fleeting thoughts about how good you could look with more than just his cock inside you.

Thoughts aside, the man swallowed the lump in his throat watching your stomach jiggle with his little forceful thrust. He wanted to put his mouth on it. Suck, bite, worship. Every single inch. To do so he’d have to pull out and he wasn’t willing to do that yet.

“Rin,” his name leaving your lips like a plea, he knows what it does to you when he fixates down on you like this. Sending shivers through your entire body as he gorges on the sight of you naked under him, “Fuck me already. God please-”

No need for an invitation to a feast of such caliber. Rintaro bottomed out in your fat cunt in one snap of his hips. The squelch of your juices around his cock and the way your supple walls milked him. Desperate not to cum he didn’t want anything for himself until he got the pleasure of seeing you writhe in pleasure on his cock.

Quickly his fingers went to your folds to find your clit. In desperation for himself as much as it was for you. Long, strong fingers working over your sensitive bud when he found the sweet spot that made you tighten around him and moan like a whore for him. With laser focus Rintaro wouldn’t move his fingers from the quick little circles paired with his cock fucking your deepest parts. He watched entranced by the way your body reacted.

Folds, creases and stretch marks all over your soft stomach. Leaving Rintaro wishing he had more hands to grab and grope at your fat. He wanted to. No, needed to.

“S-Shit- Rin!” Your cry broke him from his trance. Followed suit by the real way you tightened around him.

Rintaro grunted, eyes set on you like a predator. He wanted your orgasm and he wanted it now. With an extra flick of his finger over your clit and the way his stomach flexed when he thrusted into you harder than before. Was simply the undoing you needed to cum on your boyfriend.

And you came hard, Rintaro wasn’t ready to let you just ride out an orgasm. He pulled you down on him when you squirmed and shuddered. Keeping you on his entire length with the violent shaking of your hips. His name leaving your lips like a curse and a blessing wrapped into one. It was too much.

“I can’t-” His eyes shut with one last stroke. Forcing his cock inside until he bottomed out in you. All of it too much. Your plush walls twitching around him and your fat cunt lips against the base of his cock that left him soaked in your juices. Rintaro didn’t hide it. Grip on your love handles to pull you closer to him as he came hard. Each gush of cum leaving him moaning incoherently and drooling outside your cunt.

Recovered from your orgasm sooner than his. Rintaro gave up as he laid on top of you with deep breathes trying to regain his composure or fall asleep. He wasn’t sure which one was going to come first. Your arms coming around and holding him close to you as he relaxed on top of you. Fingers combing through his hair that earned a sweet hum from him.

Realizing his hands were free. Rintaro snaked his hands to your sides. Now that he could, he grabbed you tight. Feeling the squish of your plush body in his hands.

It was clear to you that he wanted to squeeze your fat from the moment you two started making out earlier, “You’re so weird.”

He buried his face in your neck. Squishing you like that was enough of an answer. But then he took a moment and kissed your neck softly without lifting his head, “My hands are better for grabbing you than playing volleyball. So that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Rintaro was a shameless glutton for a fat girl.

#threethirst #hq!!#haikyuu!!#hq smut #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna #suna rintaro #suna rintarou #suna rintarō #suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro smut

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yangrdn · 3 years

Text

cough cough

pairing: peter parker x gn!reader, non-superhero AU

a/n: this is my entry for @worldoftom's lolbrosgetsicktoo challenge! i loved writing sick!peter, it was v v cute. also, whilst writing this i'm sick, also a cold and my throat hurt until three days a go for three weeks straight. writing this was basically me wanting to have a peter to look after me, so i put him in my position. feedback is really appreciated and i hope you enjoy reading this <3

ps: i put the prompt at the end bc i assumed it'd spoil a little of the story if i put it at the start. so if you want to know the prompt first, just scroll down.

summary: peter gets a sore throat.

w/c: 3.8k

warnings: mentions of vomiting, description of taking painkillers, sick and whiny peter

my m.list

request | my taglist

there are a lot of things peter’s good at. he nails every test that is thrown at him. if you asked him a question about physics, he’d give you the right answer right away. basically, peter’s smart. like, really smart. now, there’s always that one thing he is not smart enough for and needs your help for.

taking care of his body.

with that, he could get all the help possible, and would still fail. may already tried her best, telling him to zip his jacket when going out and it’s raining. or you’d tell him how he should’ve stayed at home instead of riding his bike to your apartment right after taking a shower. he had worn only a shirt and a pair of jeans, saying it was hot and that the sun was out.

you, on the other hand, were just pissed your boyfriend had risked getting sick again, because you know you’ll have to take care of him. not because may told you to, nope. peter just didn't let anyone come near him when sick, besides you. although it does make you question whether he does it because he wants you close, even when he feels like melting because of his fever, or that he wants you to get sick, too.

and now, here you are. walking to peter’s flat after may called you and informed you about your “over dramatic” boyfriend. he was asking for you the whole day, and wouldn't let her sit down for even a minute, she said to you on the phone after you agreed to come over. you feel bad for her. She was up everyday, working her ass off, only to come home to Peter complaining about his pain. Taking care of him so she could at least get a day off from a whining Peter was the least you can do right now.

You knock on the door twice and start taking off your shoes. It wasn’t raining, but you don’t want to enter the flat with dirty shoes and leave more work when you leave. May opens the door, a tired smile across her face and a relieved sigh leaving her lips when she notices it’s you standing there.

“Hi, May,” you smile at her and give her a side hug, already peeking behind her and seeing two empty boxes of tissues. You frown and pull back as you enter the room.

“He won’t shut up about his throat. His voice is nearly gone, so he won’t be able to talk that much,” she informs you and closes the door behind you as you make your way to Peter’s room. You nod and turn around.

“It’s okay, I’ll make sure he gets enough sleep anyways,” you tell her. May silently thanks you with two thumbs up as she walks slowly to her room, closing the door quietly.

You knock on Peter’s door softly, not wanting to barg in if he’s doing something or wake him up. When you get no response, you open the door and step in. The room is dark, the only light coming in from the sun shines shining through the blinds. On Peter’s desk, books are piled up and you assume those are all for his missing assignments. A pout forms on your lips as you realize he’ll need to do all his missing work for school once he feels better. You make a mental note to help him as you roll up the blinds, only enough to illuminate the room more. When your eyes cast on the brown haired boy laid on the bed, the pout is quickly replaced by a soft smile.

Peter’s laying on his bed, blanket draped over his body and only covering his hips and left leg, soft snores leaving his lips. He’s only wearing a pair of boxers, his chest glistening with sweat. Your eyes widen as you walk closer to him, placing your palm on his forehead. A quiet gasp leaves your lips once you feel how hot his forehead is. He stirs awake slowly, only moving his head away from your palm and whining. You try to stifle a laugh and make the thin blue blanket cover at least half his body. His eyes open, blinking rapidly as he adjusts to the new light.

“Ugh,” he groans and hides his face behind his hands. Peter’s head is spinning, his eyes only adding more pain when he opens them. You sit on the bed, making sure not to touch him and hand him the glass of water on his nightstand. After revealing his face, he sits up slowly and takes the glass. Drowning it in slow and painful gulps, Peter lets out a hiss after setting the glass back down on the nightstand.

Now that he’s fully awake, you take a second to examine his sick state. His cheeks are rosy, you can basically see that the poor boy is burning up. His head is leaned back against the cool wall and his eyes squeezed shut due to his headache.

“I’m in so fucking much pain,” he whines and opens one eye, squinting and looking at you. You sigh, taking note of the crack in his voice. May wasn’t lying when she said he had a hard time talking.

“May told me. Did you eat today?” He frowns and shuts his eyes again.

“No, I- I-,” he stops talking and coughs, hissing as he feels more pain in his throat. You take the water bottle next to him and quickly fill up the glass again, handing it to him. After another painful gulp, he continues.

“May made me soup, but I didn’t finish it,” he croaks out. You purse your lips and nod.

“You lay back down. I’ll get you some painkillers, make you tea and then come back here, ok?” He nods and opens his mouth.

“Ah, ah ah, no talking for you. I see the pain you’re in right now. I’d tell you I told you so when you came over, wet and only with a t-shirt, but then you’d start arguing.” With that, you leave his room and make sure to leave the door open behind you, enough to hear Peter in case he calls for you. You make your way to the open kitchen and take out the water heater, a bag of camomile tea from the cabinet and let the water boil. While it’s boiling, you search through the other cabinets for painkillers, until you find a packet of Ibuprofen. After checking and making sure it’s not past its expiration date and that Peter’s old enough to take it, you place it on the counter and take out a teacup, throwing the tea bag in and waiting for the water to end. After a minute, you slowly fill the cup, careful not to burn yourself. You take the painkillers, turn around and walk back to Peter, balancing the full tea cup in your left hand as you softly blow in it. It should be hot, but not too hot for Peter to burn himself when drinking.

You shove the door open with your foot and step in, placing the cup on Peter’s nightstand. He was already waiting for you, glass filled with water in hand and eyes narrowed at the door.

“Take these,” you whisper, handing him the painkillers and sitting on the side of his bed, only close enough for your thigh to be touching his hip. He plops a pill in his mouth, gulping it down and shaking his head.

“I can’t even swallow pills,” he groans. You lift your hand up, caressing the side of his face with your palm. A content sigh leaves his lips as you let your thumb gently caress his cheekbone. Pecking his lips softly, you ask.

“Do you want to sleep? I can close the blinds again and-” He shakes his head and takes your hand in his. “Can we watch a movie?” He whispers. You nod and help him move to the side on his bed. He takes the blanket with him, lifting it up and patting the empty side next to him.

You shake your head. “You’ll lay on me. I don’t want to put my whole body on you.”

“What,” A soft laugh escapes your lips. “I’m always the one laying on you. Let me take care of you,” Peter’s about to complain, but you’re already comfortably on the bed and patting your lap.

“Next time you-” You shush him, pulling the blanket over the two of you and grab the laptop sitting on his nightstand. He chooses a movie and places the laptop in front of you two.

“You’re lucky we have no school tomorrow. Else you’d be drowning in work,” you whisper into his hair. He sighs and glances at the pile of sheets and books on his desk.

“Already happening.” You giggle at his statement and turn your eyes back to the movie playing.

Midst watching the movie, Peter fell asleep on your lap and started snoring. A small smile displays on your face, watching your boyfriend lay comfortably with you and feel safe. You start running your hand through his hair as he stirs in his sleep, face squished against your stomach.

When he wakes up, he starts groaning and raising his head to look at you. You grin at him and peck his lips.

“Sleep good?” He shakes his head and lets it fall back on your stomach, nuzzling his nose against the fabric covering it and letting out a content sigh.

“I’m still in pain, but I guess it’ll get better later,” he says, his voice muffled. You nod and purse your lips, thinking.

“Wait, Peter.” He frowns at your worried tone and looks up at you again.

“Didn’t we buy those tickets for the concert tomorrow?” You nod to his desk. His head turns to the side you’re looking at, eyes widening and staring back at you.

“Shit, you’re right. Fuck I’m-” he starts and lowers his gaze to your lap,” I’m sorry we can’t go to the concert tomorrow because of me. I know how much you like-” You quickly shut him up by cupping his face in your hands, pouting and shaking your head.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, babe. You’re sick and I want to take care of you. We can repeat this another time,” you say gently, staring into his eyes as the frown on his face deepens.

“But you always said how excited you were for this” he protests.

“I am, yeah, but I’d rather stay at home with you than going there alone and letting my boyfriend here. Or worse, dragging you with me,” you tell him. You see the corners of his lips pick up and feel your own eyes lit up as he tries to hide his smile.

“You don’t want me to go!” A dramatic gasp leaves your mouth and you throw your head back.

“What- no! I just- I like it when…” he trails off and leaves you silent. You stare back at him, raising a brow and waiting for his answer. “I said that I just want to spend time with you and I’m kind of happy you’re staying here,” he whispers.

You grin and pull his face closer to yours, noses almost touching.

“You’re so in love with me,” He rolls his eyes and pushes you back, not before kissing the palm of your hand. “Yeah yeah I am. Am I not allowed to?”

You smirk and drape your arm over him as he shuffles closer to you.

A week later, Peter’s still sick. Or at least, that’s what aunt May told you. He didn’t leave his bed for hours and you slowly started to worry whether to take him to the doctors or not. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes from hours of studying and doing assignments that were already due last week. Why would he stay up at night, if he was sick? It’s what made you think whether he’s really faking it. He wouldn’t fake being sick and stay up the whole night, right?

“Y/N, did Peter tell you when he’ll come back?” Your head snaps up to the teacher talking to you, frowning and shaking your head.

“He didn’t. He’s been really sick for a little more than a week now, I don’t think he’ll come back this week yet.” The teacher nods and carries on with the class, taking a pen and starting to write something into a brown book.

You feel a light tap on your shoulder and turn around, being greeted with Ned’s worried expression.

“You sure he’s alright? He didn’t text me either,” he checks.

“He did throw up like three times last week,” you trail off, thinking about how your boyfriend called you three times from Tuesday to Wednesday, telling you he threw up and asking if you could come over.

“I’ll go to his later anyways, should I tell him to talk to you?” Ned only nods, lowering his eyes back to the paper in front of him and starting to write down his answers quickly.

You knock on Peter’s door after May let you in. She was in a hurry, talking about having a job interview in twenty minutes and being late as she left you in the living room, closing the door to the bathroom behind her.

There’s a faint “yeah” when you open the door, looking through the crack into his room and staring at the figure hunched up under blankets. Your eyes soften as you step into the room, closing the door silently. The blinds are up, different from the other day. His room also looks cleaner. He must’ve cleaned up the pile of clothes that was there last week and tidied his desk. You frown as you look at his bed. Yesterday he told you his head hurt too much and that he felt dizzy when standing up. Must’ve been May, probably, you shrug and walk closer to his bed, sitting down at the end of it.

“Hey,” His voice startles you. There isn’t a crack in it anymore and his eyes don’t squint as much at the bright lighting in his room as they did the last time you were here. You hum and lean back on your arms.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Pretty good.” He peaks up from under the blanket, smiling at you. His eyes widen when he realizes what he just said and starts coughing. You frown and sit up straight, arm stretched out ready to grab the glass of water next to him.

“Uh, compared to last week. Yes, pretty good compared to last week,” he adds quickly and hides back under the blanket. You giggle and shuffle closer to his form, running your hand through his locks under the blanket and earning a sigh from him. He likes it when you touch him, whether it’s hugging, running your hand through his hair, or when you’d cling into his biceps as the headboard hit against the wall repeatedly. There is always physical touch between the two of you.

“Do you want to drink something? I’ll go make you another tea,” you propose and stand up, leaving his bed. He nods and smiles at you. You leave the room and walk into the kitchen. This time, you close the door to his room completely. He’s feeling much better than last week, but also acting suspicious. Peter wouldn’t skip school and act sick. It 's not like him. Like, at all. Right?

The door to his room is closed, so the first thing Peter decides to do when you leave is jump out the bed and walk to his desk, taking his phone and getting back into his comfortable bed. He makes sure you can't hear any frantic steps or movements.

After you left Peter's room the first night he asked you to stay, he started to like the attention you were giving him. It's not that you don't pay attention to your boyfriend. In fact, Peter may be in the center of your attention and you his. You two make sure to show each other the love you feel and that you care.

It's just that with your busy schedules and upcoming exams, spending time together wasn't your top priority anymore. He misses the days when you'd go to Delmar's with him after school, instead of instantly leaving because of an essay that was due that same week. So he decided to do what he does, in his opinion, best. Lie. Act sick.

He did feel bad when he first started coughing every time May was around and she worried for him, but at some point he realized staying at home a little longer wasn’t that bad and he could use some time away from school. Although he could’ve just told May he was in pressure and wanted to stay home for a couple of days, he’d rather use this option.

Peter suits himself in his bed and turns on the phone, already flooded by texts from Mj and Ned telling him the homework they got for today and texts from Ned asking where he was at, and why he stays home for this long. He stifles a laugh at the memes Ned sent into the group chat and glances to the door at the muffled steps he heard. When he’s sure there isn’t anyone close to his room, he returns his eyes to the screen of his phone.

You’re on the other side of the door, side of your face pressed against the door and holding in your breath to not get noticed. You heard a laugh when you were in the kitchen. You left Peter laying in his bed, he was too dizzy to get up and grab his phone. You raise a brow and lean closer to the door, daring to press down the doorknob and silently stepping in, halting in the open doorway with your hand on your hip and an expectant expression.

Peter is sitting up on his bed, covers long forgotten on the end of it and phone in hand. He’s laughing at something playing on his screen, not noticing you standing in the room yet. You click your tongue, pursing your lips and waiting for your presence to be noticed. When your boyfriend throws his head back, letting out another loud laugh, you decide to let him know you’re there.

“oh, ok. so i see you’re better?” you quirk a brow, smirking. his eyes widen and his head snaps to you, watching you through plate-wide eyes. he sucks in a breath and puts his lip in a thin line.

“uhm, you’re back?” he croaks out. a nervous giggle leaves his lips and he shrugs with a smile plastered on his face, biting his bottom lip. “i- i feel better,” you roll your eyes and place the cup of tea on his desk, making him frown.

“you didn’t really think i’d place it next to you? i see you’re better, go get it yourself.” he opens his mouth, only to shut it again. it was true, he looks and feels much better than last week. and peter knows he’s back to his healthy state, he just kept it from you. which is why he’s shocked at first, then frowns and groans.

“come on! yes i feel better, but can you give me the cup?” he asks. you shake your head, balancing your weight on one leg, jutting your hip out. oh, peter knows that look on your face. you’re not happy. not utterly disappointed, but you don’t seem the happiest either.

“no way you made me and may care for you for a whole week straight, when you didn’t feel sick!” you throw your hands up in the air, letting out an annoyed huff. he whines at you in a clearly irritated state and juts out his lip, trying to look as sad as possible.

“no, don’t pull that face on me. i’m pissed off,” you mutter as you walk to him, sitting down on his bed with your back to his figure. “please? i’m sorry i lied,” he starts. you frown, turning around.

“why did you, in the first place. you now have much more work to do. oh, and have fun explaining may why you lied about being sick. she stayed up with you at night, hell, i went to sleep at three for you! peter, we had school at seven!” you cry out.

the boy on the bed with you just shrugs, not exactly knowing what to say next.

“i guess i liked the attention i got.” you huff and take a glance at him. when he stays serious, you turn your whole body to him. “you liked the attention i gave you?” you ask in disbelief. he slowly nods.

“do i not give you attention?” you worry. he quickly shakes his head, arms out to reach for your hands. “no! you do, it’s just, with school and everything,...” he trails off. you nod and squeeze his hand, demanding for him to look up at your face.

“i know we don’t spend as much time together as we used to, anymore. but peter, you know i’m in so much pressure because of school! besides, don’t you have to focus on school, too? and may also told you you should look for an internship because you didn’t get one last year,” you reason. he lets go off your hand, clearly not amused.

“i told her i don’t want one. what will it do?” “uh, look good on your college applications?” you say, as if it was the most obvious thing on earth. he chuckles.

“besides that. i’ll find one, i just want to spend time with you for now,” he says softly as he scoots closer to your warm body. you put your arms around him, laying your head on his placed on your chest.

“i do too, pete. but i promise that in,” you stop and cran your neck to look behind you at the calender he’s got hung on the wall, “in five weeks we’ll be able to cuddle and watch movies like we did before again. now, we need to focus on school and you on your missed assignments,” you sigh. you feel him tense under you.

“what?! five weeks!” you smirk against his hair and squeeze him tighter.

“i was joking! two actually. but, until then, you’re stuck with me anyway studying so it won’t be that big of a problem if i stay away from you for one day,” you laugh and kiss his temple. he nuzzles into your chest, inhaling in your sent and sighing. “as long as we spend that time together, i don’t care how long it is until we finish all exams,” he whispers against you.

Prompt: Non-Superhero AU. Peter gets a sore throat! Which is very ill-timed, because him and the reader had plans to go to a concert, but they ditched in favor of the reader taking care of Peter. Days pass by and Peter is still "sick". Spoiler, he's just faking it at this point because he's enjoying the extra attention he's getting from his partner.

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#peter parker x reader #lolbrosgetsicktoo #peter parker #peter parker x gn!reader #gn!reader #gender neutral!reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #sick!peter parker #peter parker AU #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker one shot #peter parker oneshot

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littlebratao3 · 3 years

Text

blinding lights - j.m.

cw: dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, bondage, makeshift gags, rough sex, spanking, use of safeword, petnames, mentions of aftercare

word count: 2.8k

details: got three random prompts (in a car, gags, and dry humping/clothed sex) from a prompt list that i can no longer find bc i started this fic like, years ago so. yeah. this is what resulted :)

please let me know what you think, comments are always appreciated <3

“Wow.”

The look on Joe’s face is priceless as your giggle sounds, “You like?” He shakes his head in disbelief as he comes up to take your hand and twirl you around, giving you more than a few once-overs.

“Understatement. You look stunning, love, absolutely stunning.” His smile is genuine, the look in his eyes is soft, and his touch on your waist is so tender that you almost forget to breathe.

Red carpets and award shows weren’t your favorite thing, but this-dressing up and receiving nothing but praise from Joe about how good you looked made it all more than bearable.

In front of the cameras, his arm is an anchor snug against your waist, smile confident and sure.

And it was always even more fun after-coming home, stripping each other of suits and dresses and ties and fucking til the early hours of the morning.

“Trust me, Joey. This,” you gesture towards your floor length dress, “is nothing compared to what I’m wearing underneath it.”

Time slows down just a little as his eyes widen and darken simultaneously, his grip on your hips less tender and quickly turning desirous.

Your hands grab at his wrists as you feel him begin to bunch your dress up. “Nope, sorry babe. You don’t get to see it until our own after party after the after party.”

A growl sounds deep in his chest and his kiss is all teeth and tongue as he all but yanks your body closer into his. It takes every ounce of strength in you to pull away, the both of you breathless.

He watches you like prey while you fix your dress, and smooth out his dress shirt, straightening his tie before smiling shakily-ignoring the extremely loud telltale signs of your arousal.

“Let’s go, yeah? We don’t want to be late.”

The night drags on slowly and quickly at the same time, and with every semi quiet moment when Joe’s eyes meet yours-your pussy clenches needily and Joe’s cock twitches in his pants.

Your panties dampen significantly each time you catch the look in his eye, and it only gets stronger as the night goes on and the inevitable draws closer and closer. His smile may be easy going to onlookers, but his eyes give way to every sinful thing he’s imagining.

You smile, laugh, engage in conversation, and a little bit of drinking but the anticipation of how the night will end is slowly eating at you. Your mind flashes back to the initial look on Joe’s face when he first saw you, then the largely detectable shift in his eyes at your mentioning of what lies underneath.

Imagining the dark and insatiable looks he’ll give you once it’s revealed is enough for you to push up and away from the table-a little more forcefully than you intended, drawing more than a few eyes over to you.

“Sorry,” your smile is tight, unconvincing, “I’m just going to run to the ladies room. Nature calls!”

You rush to the bathroom which is across the expansive room that’s currently filled with a-listers and celebrities laughing and drinking and celebrating.

Slinking through them is easy, and as soon as your hand can reach the door to the bathroom, you’re pushing it open and letting it close behind you. Your back rests against the wall as you release a long and heavy sigh.

The dulled noise of the party is more than comforting and the tension in your shoulders loosens slowly.

You never realize how much being around crowds like that suffocates you until you get a moment to yourself. Shutting yourself into a stall, you carefully pull up your skirt, the thigh high sheer stockings covering your legs that connect to a garter belt, surrounding a brand new pair of cheeky black lace panties-the small seat of it currently damp with your arousal.

While holding up the lengthy part of your dress in one hand, your other reaches for some tissue, snatching more than a few sheets off the roll. One stiletto heel balances on the marble floor, the other perched up on the toilet seat.

A few quick wipes to your upper inner thighs and they’re no longer slipping as they rub against one another. You can do this, you think, taking a few deep breaths, it's only just what-maybe an hour more and then you get to go home.

It’s honestly very doubtful that either of you would be able to make it that far. After flushing the toilet and fixing your dress, you exit the stall and clean your hands while you take a little more than a quick glance at yourself in the mirror.

Taking your phone out, you snap a few shameless selfies-deciding that the lighting was too good to go to waste-and then a few turn into several until you’re satisfied. You keep only two-out of ten-and save a silly one to send to Joe.

As your thumb hovers over the send arrow, a wicked idea pops into your brain. Clicking the ’x’ on the photo you were planning to send to Joe, you reopen the camera app and head back into the stall.

With your foot propped up on the toilet seat and dress hiked up and resting in your arm again, you angle your phone just right and snap a photo.

The laugh that leaves you is almost sinister as you admire the picture. It perfectly showcases your open legs adorned with your garter belt and stockings-you don’t need to think twice as you send it to him.

Once again, you fix yourself before exiting the restroom with renewed energy.

The amount of time you take to make your way back over to the group is generous, loving the feeling of adrenaline pumping through your blood-strengthened by the loud music playing.

Before they’re even in your line of sight, you feel a strong hand grip your wrist and you’re yanked back into a familiar body.

His voice in your ear is deep and his words drip with irritation and lust as he whispers, “What do you think you’re doing?”

His grip has drifted from your wrist to your waist and it stays as you turn around, smiling sweetly, “Just having a little fun, Joey.”

His stare is enough to make you squirm, palms sweating as that look entered his eyes-the one that told you he wanted to eat you alive.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, baby.” You were almost convinced that he could feel your heart pounding in your chest with how close he had you pressed up against him.

Neither of you are aware of anything happening around you, too busy being wrapped up in each other, eyes blaring and gaze unwavering as you breathe heavily, “What if I want to play?”

And you’re not entirely sure yourself-too caught up in the moment and in his eyes, his touch, and his lips that bite yours more than they kiss.

Your desire pools in the pit of your stomach and Joe chases your lips as you pull away. You couldn’t wait anymore and you could tell Joe felt the same with impatience rolling off of him in waves-feeling it in the way he held you and kissed you. He needed to have you now.

“So… what’re you waiting for? Take me home, Daddy.”

If you hadn’t been surrounded by hundreds of people and more cameras than you could count, you’re positive he would have attempted to throw you over his shoulder and haul you out of the room.

Instead he settled for his hand gripping yours strongly as he guides the both of you through the room, dodging groups of people here and there until you reach a hidden exit.

The cool air of the night bites your skin and things are a little less hazy and a little less suffocated with your arousal-until Joe is suddenly moving you into the backseat of his car and leaning into you after slamming the door shut.

The haze returns as his lips come back to yours as he groans into your mouth, his tongue rolling against yours with such a fucking tease.

“Please Joey, I need you.”

He chuckles darkly, lips meeting yours for another bruising kiss. All he’s done is kiss you and yet you find it hard to breathe as you sit up when he leans back off of you, yanking his tie off his neck with a feral look in his eyes.

“Oh, you’ll have me, don’t worry about that. You’ve done enough teasing tonight, kitten.” He shoves a hand between your legs, cupping your heat in his hand.

It’s Daddy’s turn.

“Fucking drenched,” he mutters and your legs spread open wider as a silent plea for more, but he chuckles as he removes his hand and slaps your clothed pussy, his smile breathtakingly sinister as you yelp.

“Flip over and put your hands behind your back. Now.”

His tone leaves no room for argument so you turn around, your dress twisting with you and your cheek squishing against the seat as you put your hands behind your back.

A whine leaves you as you feel him slip his tie around your wrists, double wrapping and tying them together. His fingers trace your stocking covered calf as he rucks your dress up, letting it pool over your hips.

Daddy’s baby is looking so fucking beautiful.

Snapping the strap of your garter belt against your skin, a gasp tears sharply from you as he rips your panties open, leaving the material halfway hanging off of you. “Joe!” you whined.

“Quiet, I’ll buy you another fucking pair.”

You simmered silently in your anger while he admired your rear end. Prettiest little ass, he had muttered before decorating the skin, his hand landing across your cheeks three times in quick succession.

An unpermitted squeal had left you at the unexpected pain that came and went, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Didn’t I say to be quiet, kitten?” He growled lowly, his voice coming closer to your ear, making you whimper.

“I’m sorry Joey, I’ll be quiet. I promise.”

“Oh, I know you will.”

His next words have you tensing slightly, “Open your mouth.” You know better than to question him so, opening your mouth-albeit hesitantly-a whiny gasp is muffled when he stuffs part of your dress into your mouth.

His smile is dark as he looks at you approvingly. “There we go, that should help you out with that problem.”

His hands are anything but gentle as they grab at your ass, squeezing the flesh while he asks, “What do you say?”

You blink wetly at him from the corner of your eye as you try to speak around the material in your mouth-knowing exactly what he was expecting-, “Thank you, Daddy.”

You can tell he’s pleased with your response even though he continues doling more spanks out on your ass. Your skin jumps with every resounding crack of his open palm against you, and the simmering pain adds to your arousal.

“Look so good, kitten. Good enough to eat.” You whimper at his words and push back desperately, trying to meet his tongue that was nowhere near your cunt, and cry out when he tuts disapprovingly, “Nope, none of that. You’ve done all the teasing tonight. Have you forgotten it's Daddy’s turn now?”

You cry out into your dress when you feel the thick head of his cock sliding up and down your cunt, being coated generously in your arousal. You moan and tears leak from your eyes as your dress soaks up the please that falls from your lips. You can feel his cock throbbing against your clit, hot and hard as he moans prettily.

“What, you want something? You want my cock? Then fucking beg for it.” His cock rubs against you more harshly as muffled cries of please and Daddy and fuck me leave your mouth in earnest.

It’s all basically incoherent and Joe doesn’t tell you if your groveling was good enough or not as he’s suddenly plunging deep inside of you.

You sob from the immediate combined feelings of delicious pain, stimulation of your g-spot and the feeling of his cock pulsating in you as he sets a blinding pace, all but pounding you into the car seat. The material of your dress is damp in your mouth as you scream, his hips snapping furiously against your ass as he fucks you.

“This what you’d been wanting, yeah? Wanted to get me all riled up so I’d drag you out to the car just so you could have my cock?”

Trying to squirm away from the onslaught of his dick in your cunt is futile because you don’t get very far and Joe is immediately pulling you back on to him by the tie around your wrists.

“No, you wanted my cock kitten, so take it.”

And you do. Your pussy clenches around him at his words, whines and sobs muffled by the thick material in your mouth as Joe fucks you so good you see stars behind your eyes.

Every thrust of his hips drives his cock deep into your pussy, the spot inside of you that makes you shake and tremble deliciously grinded into.

Your orgasm hits you, it’s sudden and so fucking good that you’re reduced to nothing but a whiny litany of DaddyDaddyDaddy and pleasepleaseplease.

Your ass stings as Joe pounds your pussy even as you convulse and tremble around him, sobbing incoherently as the fire in your abdomen blazes and your pussy throbs as your body comes alive when he reaches around your hip and under your dress, finding your clit and rubbing it.

“Go ahead and come again. Show me how much you love it when I put your little bratty ass in its place.”

Your body listens to him before you do, trembling from head to toe as you squirt on his cock, no longer holding on to any control over yourself; that was long gone.

Joe’s hips stutter against yours, his breathing heavy as his grip on the necktie around your wrists tightens as he pulls you back on him once more. His cock throbs and swells before he comes deep inside you, thick and hot ropes of cum painting the walls of your pussy.

You whine as he slowly pulls out of you, and slowly pulls you up by your hair, silently guiding you to turn around. He yanks the saliva-sodden material from your mouth, thumbs rubbing your lips as he leans in and kisses you, tongue immediately searching yours out.

Your eyes are glossy, and he thinks to himself, good girl, until he looks down at himself, all disheveled and messy. And you can feel his cum slowly dribbling out of your well-fucked cunt beneath the skirt of your dress.

“Would you look at that? Look at the mess you made kitten, you ruined my best pants.”

Deep down, you know he’s not genuinely upset but you’re too deep in your head to be anything but remorseful as he’s still regarding you with that stern tone, so you pout and your eyes water a bit as he looks at you disapprovingly. “I-I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it, baby. Clean it up.”

Your wrists are still tied behind your back as you sniffle and lean forward, your tongue coming out to lap up the cum-his and yours combined-from his crotch. His dick twitches in front of your face, slowly hardening again as he watches you, eyes dark and brows knitted together.

When you’re done he’s yanking you up by your hair so he can pull your lips to his, biting and sucking on them as he tastes the both of you on your tongue.

It makes your thighs quiver underneath you and your arms are near cramping when he pulls away, giving you a chance to breathe.

You’re still huffing as you squeak out red, and gone is harsh dominant Joe, quickly replaced with soft eyes and soft touches as he starts to ask what’s wrong.

You beat him to the punch before the words begin to leave his mouth as you speak up, “I’m sorry, my arms are cramping. Please untie me?”

He’s already loosening and freeing your wrists from behind your back before you even finish asking, and his voice rolls through you as he meets your eyes.

“There’s no need to apologize, at all. I’m the one who’s sorry, ducky.” He rubs your wrists with his thumbs before taking hold of your face, leaving kisses along both of your cheeks, your nose, forehead, chin and then your lips. He doesn’t even need to say it because you can feel it. You feel it in every moment when he kisses you-his love, his affection, his care, for you. “Such a good girl, my good girl.”

Your head is still feeling floaty and his words make you feel all warm inside as the praise sits deep within you.

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Bath?”

“Yeah, of course I’ll run you a bath, kitten.”

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello fic #joe mazzello one shot #joe mazzello fanfiction #writing #joe mazzello smut #masterlist #littlebrat

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

A Boy Like You | Yoongi

→ summary: for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you.

{or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

→ genre: coworker!au, f2l, fluff → warnings: an overabundance of shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to squish his cheeks; kinda ooc but it is what it is → words: 11.5K → a/n: whaddup kids it’s ya girl... back from the dead after months of not writing shit, and what’s this owo... it’s a fluff fic?? miracles do happen... anyway i wrote this bc i just thot “man, wouldn’t it be super epic if i wrote a super self-indulgent fic where yoongi fulfills every single one of my deepest desires?” well... here is THIS!! pls feel free to scream into a pillow bc i certainly did!! enjoy!!

There is a boy you know who likes to show his kindness quietly. It would go something like this:

The air is thick with static; your hair stands up on end: a warning. The scent of raindrops hitting hot pavement graces your nostrils as a waterfall drops from the sky. You see the sea of heads begin to disappear under a canopy of multi-colored umbrellas. You, the lone ranger, rush back into the building from whence you came, dragging puddles and annoyance with you.

You should have anticipated it, should have thought to check the weather app before scrolling through dull social media posts when you left your house that morning. Instead, your fingers are left cold and umbrella-less.

You tilt your head upwards, watching as gallon upon gallon fell from the sky in an endless cycle. The watch on your wrist reads 5 PM, but the sky says it is 9 PM. The dark, swirling mass of clouds above you will continue on its thunderous parade, pausing for no one, especially not for you.

Your work bag is practically weightless, devoid of anything that might protect you from the onslaught of rain. The only thing inside is a small wallet that holds nothing more than dust and a loose promise of a paycheck. There is no way you can call a taxi like this, and the nearest bus stop is at least two blocks away. You are starting to think that your childhood dreams of becoming a mermaid hadn’t been so ridiculous after all.

Then comes the hand of God. It touches your shoulder gently, hesitantly. You turn around to face a stranger, a boy with shaggy black hair and pale moonlight skin. It is not God, but he comes close.

In his other hand is your salvation wrapped in Kumamon print nylon. It is proffered to you with a silent nod, his gaze fixed somewhere behind you as he waits for you to take it. The tips of his ears begin to redden the longer it takes for you to respond. Eventually, your brain connects with your muscles as you robotically pluck the umbrella from his grasp, a stuttered “thanks” leaving your lips.

He nods stiffly once more, removing his palm from your shoulder as though he had been burned. He shuffles for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find the words to say. You wait, patience never waning for the strange boy that you have come to know as your salvation.

He doesn’t find the words after all. You aren’t too offended by his silence, but he appears to be mortified. And so, he leaves just as quickly as he had appeared, like a whirlwind dressed in an oversized blazer flapping behind him like wings. He runs through the rain without another thought, an arm raised above his head in a futile attempt to avoid getting wet.

You try calling out to him, wanting to thank him once more and maybe to ask how you can return his umbrella, but he is long gone. A speck of black dashing through the gray.

You clutch the umbrella closer to you, a feeling of something new growing inside of you. It is too small to call anything, but it is warm.

x x x x x

Umbrella boy has a name, and he happens to work on the same floor as you. You know this because he is standing right in front of you in all his bespectacled glory.

He ducks out of view the moment your eyes meet his. There is a stack of folders in his arms, and he bows his head until his nose touches manila. It’s too late––he knows you caught him staring. He scurries behind walls of filing cabinets and desk cubicles, desperate to get back to his desk where he hopes you’ll never find him.

The office floor is large, but it is not large enough to hide in. It takes only a few minutes until you find him hunched over his desk, every inch of space taken by enough towers of paper to cover a forest. It is no wonder that you never encountered your mysterious umbrella boy; he does a wonderful job of blending in.

Your eyes trail his form, not out of any perverse intent, but just out of curiosity. You never would have guessed from his unassuming and meek nature, but the boy is devastatingly beautiful. The devil is in the details: you admire the soft slope of his nose to the adorable pout of his lips. His eyelids are charmingly mismatched and his cheeks are begging to be pinched. It takes a year’s worth of self-restraint to keep your hands at your sides, if only so you don’t scare him away before you can even introduce yourself.

(You can already imagine your HR department contacting you about nonconsensual manhandling… You admit that you tend to get overzealous with your affection, especially when confronted with cute things. This boy would definitely need to watch out for you if he knows what’s best for him.)

((Also note to self: Stop having these psychopathic conversations with yourself. Being stuck inside the cage which is your brain is torture enough, so let’s not encourage it to get worse.))

There is a lanyard laced around his neck, the gaudy orange color of your company’s logo emblazoned across the thin material. And just out of your line of sight, you catch a glimpse of his ID. His name is––

“Y-Y/N?” He stutters out–no–he squeaks. Ah, so he’s noticed you. The folder in his hand slips out of his grasp, an avalanche of white tumbling all over his lap. He curses loudly, frantically sweeping away the mess under his desk, as if he could somehow magically make them disappear if he just kicked them hard enough. Unfortunately, the papers stay stubbornly tangible, and he is left with a halo of accounting reports around his workspace as a result.

“Are you… umm…” You hesitate with your words, fearing that any sudden movement on your part might cause umbrella boy to combust on the spot. “Do you need help… picking those up?”

“I–Well, no–Yes, but–” His sentences are stilted, his brain struggling to catch up with his tongue. He clamps his mouth shut, then shakes his head like he’s trying to reboot himself. Finally, after a few more deep breaths, he goes, “No. I’m fine. Thank you for offering.” He says that, but he appears awfully content with staring holes into the keyboard of his laptop when he is speaking to you though.

“Still… I’m terribly sorry for startling you,” you say, lips tugging downwards into a frown. You should have guessed he was skittish from how he had acted yesterday, but it’s quite a surprise to see one man so… disastrous, for lack of a better term. It’s awfully cute. “I just wanted to properly introduce myself and thank you for lending me your umbrella yesterday, but it seems like you already knew who I was.”

His face does a weird thing then and there. It almost appears like he was caught in a time loop, like someone was manually reversing and replaying his facial expressions like a video. It takes a few minutes for his little stroke to settle down, but even then, his cheeks remain a rosy pink. “I–I just… remembered your name during the company retreat the other month. I’m not weird or anything, I swear!”

“Well luckily, I was never going to accuse you of being weird anyway!” You laugh, trying to ease the perpetual look of anxiety on his face. However, it only seems to worsen his nerves with how quickly his skin starts to redden. “In fact, I should be apologizing for not remembering your name, Mister..?”

“Min Yoongi,” he replies, pausing for a second too long. He must have realized his delay because he coughs awkwardly into his forearm, averting his gaze away from you in a futile attempt to become nothing more than an abstract thought.

He must be equipped with some sort of superpower, because you’re starting to feel his secondhand embarrassment flood through you like a tsunami. Are you that difficult to converse with? Does he want to be left alone so badly that he’s trying to subtlely tell you to fuck off?

You’re about to start apologizing and scurry off back to your desk in barely concealed mortification when Yoongi clears his throat, his gaze fixed somewhere to your right. Whatever caught his attention must have been revolutionary with how large his eyes are, although last you remember is that the wall behind you is the same dull jailcell gray that you have come to know and hate.

“I just… I’m sorry if I’m acting odd right now. I just wasn’t expecting you to come to my cubicle and I would’ve… I don’t know, tidied up? If I knew you were coming,” he mutters, propping his glasses back up when they start sliding down his nose. They make their slow descent back down immediately after, forever on an endless cycle of up and down his face.

“You don’t have to clean up just for me! I’m not your manager or anything,” you say, surveying the absolute disaster zone that is his workspace. For his benefit, you sure hope that he has a map of his desk and filing cabinets, as it would have been a miracle otherwise if he memorized where anything was located in his personal office sty. “Though, it would be nice if you could see the bottom of your desk every once in a while.”

To your immense surprise, Yoongi lets out a resounding laugh at your quip. Though Yoongi isn’t a mute by any means, it isn’t like he spoke with much volume either. You hadn’t even thought your joke was funny enough to deserve a strained Caucasian™️ smile, so you appreciate that he had considered that you were even slightly funny. You love the pleasant tinkling of his laughter, so genuinely joyous that you can’t help but want to make a fool of yourself just so you can hear it again and again.

When Yoongi stops, the familiar reddish hue that has made a home on his cheeks resurfaces, though it’s less from embarrassment now. His shoulders are more relaxed, and he doesn’t look like he wants to crawl out of his skin as much. He still has eyes averted away from you, however. “Sorry. I don’t know why I laughed too hard at that. I’m normally not this weird… I think it’s just the nerves.”

You cock your head to the side. “Nerves? From what?”

Yoongi freezes, mouth gaping open slightly. “I, umm…” He coughs into his white button-up sleeve, pupils shaking as he formulates a response. “Just from… work. Yeah, I just have a lot of paperwork to do this week and I’ve been, er, having difficulty relaxing.”

Yoongi visibly breathes a sigh of relief when you accept his flimsy excuse, not really lingering on the validity of his statement. “Oh, sure! Don’t overwork yourself too much, okay?” you say, smiling sweetly back at him. He stares, wide-eyed, not really sure how to go on with his life after he’d been blasted by the full force of your grin.

God, you hope you remembered to use a toothpick during lunch. Was there spinach in your teeth? Oh fuck.

“Gah,” he intones, his brain not fully cooperating with his mouth just yet. If you were any more socially inept, you’d probably be doing the same. Eventually, he clears his throat and tries again. “Uh. Yes. I’ll try to do better next time.”

Feeling like you’ve overstayed your visit, you decide that it might be best for you to leave him be before either of you do or say anything more awkward and stupid. Before you turn to leave however, you decide to extend your hand forward, hoping to erase all the previous awkwardness between the both of you and hopefully start afresh. Even though you’ve only just met, you can’t help but feel drawn to him, wanting to see him again and somehow gain his friendship. “Hey, no sweat. It was really nice meeting you, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Just Yoongi is fine,” he says, almost like an afterthought. He’s so busy staring at your proffered hand that you are afraid that you might have offended him unknowingly or something. Does he think you don’t wash your hands? Given by the fact that your office’s manager refuses to restock the soap dispensers at the washrooms, that isn’t that much of a stretch. Or maybe he was weirded out by your random handshake? Have handshakes become antiquated these days? Are the kids no longer doing it? Are you supposed to do those awful brohugs like the fresh-out-of-college interns do in the breakroom? Oh God, does Yoongi think you’re old?!

While you were in the midst of your mental breakdown, you soon begin to realize why Yoongi had contemplated returning your handshake for so long. Instead of taking your hand immediately, Yoongi rubs his own two palms together first, much like how one would when warming their hands in front of a fire. He takes care to blow on them slightly before grasping your hand firmly in his, finally bestowing you with your much awaited handshake.

“Umm..?” You stare at your intertwined hands, a little confused about the previous series of events that just happened five seconds ago. Yoongi, in all his adorable and flustered glory, releases your hand much too quickly like he’s been shocked, most likely realizing (belatedly) that what he had done might not be as clear to an observer as it is to himself.

“Oh, I – I’m so sorry about that, again.” Yoongi stutters, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s just – my hands are really cold so I was trying to warm them up before I held your hands. I’m – I only just realized how odd that must have looked. Sorry.”

A rush of endearment and warmth surges through you as you behold this high strung boy, your heart flooded with a mix of emotions that make you feel gooey and blissful in one perfect package. No, this boy is the perfect package, all soft edges and blushy cheeks. It’s going to take a mountain and a room of vengeful deities to stop you from walking past his desk to catch a glimpse of him at this rate.

Oh God, you’re whipped already and it’s only been a few minutes since you said hello. He warmed his hand for you for heaven’s sake! Surely your enthusiasm can be excused in this one instance.

“That’s, uhh…” Now it seems that it is your turn to be at a loss of words, your throat clogged with a clump of newly discovered feelings that you don’t have enough time to sort through at the moment. The hamster running circles inside your brain has long since ground to a halt, and if Yoongi is going to keep staring at you with those charming cat eyes for any longer, you aren’t sure you’ll be able to convince the little vermin inside your skull to puppet your body again. “That’s… really sweet. Thank you.”

Thank you? Really, Y/N?

“It’s, uh, no problem. Really.” And with that, Yoongi presents to you his most deadly smile to date: blinding whites coupled his prominent pink gums, with his cheeks stretched like proofed dough that make his dark eyes disappear. Is there a pencil wedged inside your chest cavity, or were you just spontaneously having a heart attack? It’s hard to say; all you know is that your organs have turned to slush, and you make a mental note to send the imminent hospital bill to a certain Min Yoongi.

Cause of hemorrhage: being too fucking cute.

With your daily dose of embarrassment fulfilled, you turn to leave with short stilted steps, as if you have to force yourself away from him like those stubborn souvenir shop magnets that never come off the fridge. “I guess I’ll see you around?” you say more like a question, unsure if he’ll even want to ever see you after that disaster of an interaction. Kim Namjoon from Accounting would be entirely too delighted if he ever found out that he wasn’t the most awkward human being in the office.

“Sure? I’ll just be here. As always,” Yoongi replies kindly, same gummy grin on his face, albeit a little more hesitant. “It was nice speaking to you, Y/N.”

When he returns his attention to his workspace, it serves as a signal to you that you really should be going. Before you leave, you take note of the subtle red tint of his ears that reaches the back of his neck, the gentle tremor of his hands as he reorganizes the files that he had previously dropped. It makes you feel odd for relishing in the fact that you hadn’t been the only one feeling the tension between the two of you, though that doesn’t help lessen the confusion that soon follows anyway.

Why are you so drawn to him? You have never felt so strongly for someone this quickly, and frankly it sort of frightened you. You’re too afraid to confront that blossoming curiosity inside of you. No, it’s much too soon for that. For now, however…

“Oh shit. I totally forgot to give him back his umbrella,” you curse yourself once you return to your desk. The smiling face of Kumamon looks at you knowingly, as if this had been planned all along.

Well. Now you have an excuse to see him again tomorrow, at least.

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his tenderness quietly. It would go something like this:

Company dinners shouldn’t feel like as much as a punishment as it does, but that’s just how social gatherings with semi-professional coworkers are like. No one here really wants to be there, but the carefully worded e-mail sent to the entire company clearly suggests that this was more of a “go to the party or risk getting fired” type of deal than anything remotely enjoyable. As much as free food and booze are often harbingers of a good time, it hardly makes any difference when your inebriated boss spends the entire time chatting you up in front of the presence of a dozen or so indifferent associates.

“Oh, Y/N! Good job securing that deal with Mister Park the other day. It’s all thanks to my valuable tutelage, is it not?” your manager guffaws, slapping your back with misplaced camaraderie. He leaves his warm, sweaty palm there, feeling it slide an inch lower than you were comfortable with anyone being. The smell of cheap wine on his breath is making you feel nauseous, and the tacky black and white tiled flooring isn’t doing anything to lessen the incoming migraine.

“Right,” you say with a tight-lipped smile, unable to say anything else lest you lose your job over something silly like establishing boundaries. It’s no wonder that the number of female employees on your floor has significantly dropped over the years, especially with rumors attaching themselves like maggots all over your stupid manager’s name. You wouldn’t be surprised if his stomach exploded ala Alien (1979) style with how much bullshit resides in his body and soul.

You’ve long since given up on anyone saving you, not when everyone was either too busy taking advantage of the free food or too scared to confront your shitty boss. You resign to your fate, ready to scrub yourself clean with a brick once you get home in a futile attempt to rid yourself of the feeling of his hands on you.

That is, until someone clears their throat from behind you.

Salvation comes to you wrapped in a crisp white button-up, thick-rimmed glasses, and cat-like eyes. You almost want to start breaking into Gregorian chant just then to fully express your gratitude to the deities of above for sending an angel in your time of tribulation.

“Excuse me,” the (welcome) intruder says, voice quiet but clear even amidst the cacophonous music and chatter. Min Yoongi steps forward until he is to your right, and you don’t miss the way his shoulder “accidentally” bumps your manager hard enough for him to drop his hand from your back. When Yoongi smiles at your manager, it is all teeth and no mirth, his eyes carefully blank.

Thankfully, your manager isn’t quite as fortunate in his brains department as he is in his stomach. “Oh, Yoongi! It is so nice to finally see you attend one of our social functions. You are enjoying yourself, I hope?” your manager asks, guffawing loudly despite no joke being said. You never did quite understand how some men think they are the most hilarious thing to ever exist since clowns, though you suppose your manager was only missing the red nose to complete the look.

“Thrilled, Mister Lee. Absolutely thrilled,” Yoongi says in a dead monotone voice. You can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm, and Yoongi points a wicked grin back at you before returning to his neutral and passive “work” face.

The sarcasm flies over your managers head like you expected, though you can hardly blame the alcohol for his lack of cognizance. You wouldn’t be half surprised if you knocked lightly on his head, only to hear a resounding echo following thereafter.

“I have never seen you at any of our parties before, Yoongi. What’s with the sudden change of heart?” your manager asks.

“Sir, I’ve attended every single social gathering since I was hired,” Yoongi says plainly, his composure never faltering. He must have better control than you, because you’re sure you would’ve barely held yourself back from smacking your manager had it been you. Though in fairness, you aren’t sure if you’ve ever noticed Yoongi at any of the other parties before this one either.

“Oh really? Well then, you mustn’t have said hello before then!” your manager laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder. “Always so enigmatic, our dear Yoongi! Well, keep up the good work.” When your manager turns his attention to speak to another one of your poor coworkers, Yoongi visibly gags from behind your manager’s back, grimacing as he pats away all traces of that foul man’s hand germs away from his dress shirt.

“Gross. Now my sleeve is damp,” he mutters, just audible enough so that only you could hear. You laugh out loud at that, nodding in understanding.

“Same here. There’s probably a gross sweaty handprint on my back now,” you say, wincing when you do feel a noticeable damp spot near the small of your back. “Ugh, what a pig.”

“Tell me about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, making a move to get away from your awful manager. He gestures for you to follow him, and you are more than happy to oblige.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way,” you add, keeping in step with him. He leads you out of the disorienting ballroom, though he doesn’t head towards the exit like you had expected. He appears to know the building much more than you do, given by how assuredly he walks. Either that, or he could be leading you to a deadend, but confidently.

“No problem. You honestly looked like you were about to punt him across the room, though I doubt anyone would be opposed to that magnificent spectacle,” Yoongi jokes, same mischievous grin from before decorating his face. He is so different from the taciturn man you had met two weeks ago, back when he had half-hidden behind his desk like an animal being cornered. Though, that might not be the best analogy to think of, as it only painted you as some sort of predator who came after meek and soft-looking men. Which you aren’t. Hopefully.

“Oh, I would’ve done more than just that, so really he should be thanking you for saving him,” you snort, and Yoongi chuckles lightly in response. Like before, his laughter is just as pleasant as you remember. Your greedy heart yearns to elicit the same sound from him once more, for as many times as you can muster before the night ends.

You had been so immersed in trying to keep up with his quick strides that you don’t notice where exactly he has taken you. The two of you haven’t gone too far away from the ballroom before he stops right in front of a metal double door, the neon green exit sign about it glowing conspicuously in the otherwise dimly lit corridor. He pushes it open, allowing the cool evening air to blow across you and your hand-me-down dress.

“Are we… at the balcony?” you ask, though the view that greets you is answer enough. How Yoongi could have known where the balcony is, you can’t say for certain. But any sort of question dies on your lips when you see how beautiful the skyline is: the stars and city lights twinkling indiscriminately, the sound of nightlife and traffic sounding loud despite the streets being so far away, the smell of ozone signalling an oncoming storm.

This, of course, is what you imagine the view to be like. You know, if the ever reliable Seoul smog wasn’t there to obstruct any sort of magical, romantic view that you should have been privy to.

“Oh damn. I forgot the smog forecast today was especially bad,” Yoongi groans from beside you, quickly shuffling through his pant pockets for a face mask. He procurs two black masks, still in their plastic packaging, and hands one of them to you. “Jesus. Sorry about this. Didn’t expect the smog to be so bad… We can just go back inside, if you want?”

Then, you are reminded of your manager, who is basically pollution incarnate with how terrible his breath is. So, you accept Yoongi’s proffered mask and promptly put it on. “Yeah, no thanks,” you say, voice muffled slightly by the fabric. The implication of your acceptance makes Yoongi grin cheekily back at you (or so you think, guessing by how his eyes crinkle cutely above his mask.)

Now properly equipped to not inhale disgusting air matter into your lungs, you step out farther across the balcony, enjoying the way the cool night breeze feels against your alcohol flushed face. (Though, if you were being honest, the heat on your cheeks has less to do with the meager flute of champagne you had earlier and more to do with the company you currently find yourself with.)

“I fucking hate these company dinners,” you whine a little bit too petulantly, complete with the jutted lip of a child who has been forced to wait as her mother engages in an eternity long conversation with an acquaintance. You lean against the railings near the edge of the building, watching idly as Yoongi does the same. “Don’t you think that if they wanted us to get ‘closer’ with one another, they’d first want to address the fact that some of our coworkers happen to be pigs dressed in white collared shirts?”

Yoongi snorts at that, his right hand immediately coming up to his mouth to silence the unflattering sound. Not that it wasn’t completely charming to you, but you do enjoy the slight abashment that blooms across his face shortly thereafter. “Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh like that. But, I do agree with you… I can’t say that anyone in our department is especially fond of that Habsburg motherfucker.”

Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol in your system, or perhaps it was the sudden rush of realizing that Yoongi is strangely attractive when he swears, but the laugh that exits your mouth sounds a touch too crazed for your liking. Either that, or perhaps you’re finally dying from the pollution.

Luckily for the both of you, it seems that Yoongi likes your weird laugh just as much as you like his. He tries to hide a smile before continuing, “Like, come on! I’m sorry for saying that because attacks on physical appearance is always a low blow, but why the fuck does that dude look like he’s been compressed and flattened on Photoshop? He’s got perpetual flat-face syndrome. You could - you could land a damn plane on his face or some shit.”

The cork inside of your bursts, and you let out the most ungodly guffaw in your life. You don’t even have the time to be embarrassed by how loud your howls are, not when every word he says hits the mark a little bit too close to home. There’s nothing quite as pleasing than sharing mutual dislike for the same person, and it fills you with the utmost glee that Yoongi is no exception to that rule.

“Oh god… You’re right. You are absolutely right. I seriously can’t believe anyone can put up with him. I mean, the damned bastard couldn’t even remember my name until two weeks ago,” you say, shaking your head in disgust. The first few times he had forgotten, you had been gracious enough to laugh away his mistakes as little more than that: mistakes. But when five years pass and peanuts-for-a-brain still hasn’t deemed that remembering your name to be as important as when the “next big Game™” is, then it’s easy to understand the depth of your resentment towards your manager.

“Are you for real?” Yoongi asks, brows raised in shock. “How could anyone ever forget you – I mean, shit, uh,” Yoongi coughs suddenly, red-faced. You tilt your head in confusion, waiting for him to finish. He’s still kind of spluttering when he continues, “What I meant to say is… H-how could anyone forget their employees name after working here for so long?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I have no idea. Honestly, I think he’s trying to purposefully forget everything I tell him. One time, he had asked me what plans I had for Christmas, and I mentioned to him how I was going to be visiting my parents back home, and he has the gall to ask what country I’m from. Like???” Your face contorts as if you had eaten an entire lemon, so wracked with disbelief that Yoongi can see the hypothetical question marks floating above your head. “Bitch, do I look foreign to that bastard? I’ve lived here all my life!”

Yoongi hums, thoughtful. “Your parents live just an hour away from here, right?”

“I… Yeah, they do,” you reply. You eye Yoongi curiously, watching his all-too familiar flush resurfacing on his neck once more. “Wait… How do you know that?”

“You… You were talking about them, once. To Seulgi? Yea, you were, um…” Yoongi coughs unassuredly, rubbing the back of his neck. A nervous tick of his, you suppose. “It was a year ago? Something about visiting them during the weekend… Not that I was eavesdropping on purpose! I would never, er, do that…”

You don’t even register his embarrassment as you are mostly shell shocked that he had even remembered that little tidbit from over a year ago. Hell, you didn’t even remember going to your parent’s house until he mentioned it. “No it’s fine, I get it. I’m just surprised that you even bothered to remember that.”

Now it’s his turn to look at you strangely. “Of course I remember. Why wouldn’t I?”

You stare at him in disbelief. Fluttering of wings begin to erupt in your stomach, but you hardly have the peace of mind to fully grasp why you were even feeling so flustered in the first place. It was just that he had said it so… matter-of-fact, like there was no possible way he could’ve forgotten even if he tried. It was kind of disconcerting, but flattering all the same. But more importantly--

“Wait, you’ve been working at the company since last year? How have I never seen you before this month?!”

“Oh,” Yoongi coughs out a laugh, scratching the end of his nose. He turns his gaze away, looking anywhere but you. “I was just, umm… Really quiet? I don’t really talk to anyone unless I need to. I’m more of a listener.”

“Oh my God, now I feel even more terrible for not knowing your name! I must look like an egotistic bitch to you,” you despair lowly, cupping your face into your hands in shame. You feel another pair of cold hands clasp your wrists, and you watch in shock as he pulls your palms away with a determined expression.

“What? Of course not. You are definitely not an egotistic bitch, Y/N. In fact, you’re the complete opposite,” Yoongi whispers, so quiet that you might have imagined it. He grasps your hands tightly, like he’s desperate for you to believe him.

You stammer in embarrassment, staring wide-eyed at Yoongi as you try to regrasp your comprehension skills. It’s especially hard to concentrate with how close Yoongi is to you, the latter unaware of his own proximity. He had stepped closer towards you to hold your hand, and normally you hated it when people touched you without permission, but somehow… This was alright.

(Unbeknownst to you, this will not be the first time that Yoongi becomes your secret little exception. It’s only the first of many.)

“I-I don’t really know what to say?” Your gaze is locked on his firm grip on your hands, the only thing flitting through your mind: damn, this dude’s hands really are fucking freezing!

It takes another few seconds for Yoongi to calm down, and you know when it happens because the realization of what he had said makes itself apparent on his expression. He turns beet red in a second, stepping away from you with his arms flying off of you like those inflatable tube men outside car dealerships.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, taking two steps away from you. You almost take two steps forward to keep the distance closer, but you have a feeling that he would keep walking away from you until you both inevitably fall off the balcony, so you smartly choose to stay away (even if it pains you to do so). You wait for his breathing to settle, all the while still reeling from his blatant confession just moments ago.

Could you even consider it a confession? Were you being delulu, or is there some sort of connection that you and Yoongi were both feeling?

“Yoongi, it’s fine! Really,” you smile wryly, raising your hands towards him open-faced, much like how you would do when approaching an agitated animal. Like a nervous kitty, you think privately to yourself. “I’m really flattered that you feel so… strongly?”

“I’m… I’m really not like this normally. Honest,” Yoongi says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I… I never… do that. Whatever that was. Umm.”

Because you’re a freak of nature and enjoy exacerbating awkward social interactions, you decide to respond to him like this: “No worries, I’m flattered, honest! But hey, maybe next time you try to give me a compliment, you could look me in the eye?” You know, like an asshole. Who points out people’s social anxieties like that? You bitch!

On cue, Yoongi’s cheeks bloom into cherry blossoms once more. “I––I, I didn’t mean to––uh!” he stammers.

“No, no, I’m sorry for even saying that!” You apologize profusely, bowing so low that he could probably see the top of your spine. “I didn’t mean to tease you like that! I’m sorry! That was seriously out of line!”

What a pair the two of you were… Like two trains crashing into each other at mach speed, continuously and eternally. A constant and ongoing catastrophe!

(The little gremlin living inside your brain is knocking at your empty skull, whispering deviously, “But doesn’t that make the two of you the perfect pair?”)

When he doesn’t respond back immediately, you have to wrack up enough courage to look back at him. You gasp audibly when you do, and you have to forcibly grip the insides of your bicep to keep yourself from squealing in pure anguish.

Because there, right before your very eyes, is a blushing Min Yoongi looking you straight in the eye with his face squished between his hands, as if he’s forcibly keeping his head locked in place. His pupils are noticeably shaking and his brows are furrowed in concentration, but he’s looking at you. Like you asked.

He’s… He’s too…

“Okay, let me try this again.” Yoongi takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what may be the most embarrassing thing he has ever done in his life. “Y… You’re a great person, Y/N. I hope you know that,” he whispers, voice trailing off by the end of his sentence.

He’s dry heaving like he’s just finished a marathon, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You’re worried if he even remembers how to blink with how intensely he’s staring you down, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him when your heart is quite literally beating out of your chest like a cartoon character from the 80’s.

“I…” You’re at a loss of words. If Min Yoongi can capture you like this with just a look, then think of how much more powerful he would be if he just learned how to use it. You’re slipping into real dangerous waters, and you don’t know if you’re just a frog in boiling water or if this is where you were meant to be all along.

“Yoongi, I didn’t mean for you to… force yourself like that, really…”

The moment breaks, finally, when Yoongi begins to cry.

“Shit!” you both exclaim, but for two different reasons. “Are you okay? Oh my god!” you reach out for him, not even thinking when you cup his cheeks in your hands. He gently pushes you away with one hand, while the other goes to scrub at his tears.

“Yes, I’m fine! A piece of dust got caught in my eye and I was too slow to blink it away,” he explains, still wiping at his cheeks. He pulls his mask down to his chin, pouting cutely at you. “Sorry. I’m not used to looking people in the eye yet. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Oh my god. At this point, you’d be surprised if your heart was located anywhere near your body. You were running purely on autopilot, so enamored by the boy in front of you that you could almost faint. He was entirely too unreal, unbelievably so. Perhaps, if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to find your heart again, and you know the first place where you’d look.

“Give it back,” you mumble, and Yoongi tilts his head at you in confusion.

“Sorry? Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” you reply, reaching over him and snapping his mask back on his face. You laugh as he splutters in surprise, floundering about overdramatically as if the elastic on the mask had done any damage to him at all. “Oh, stop it. You’re just being silly now.”

“Hey, I have delicate skin! You never know,” he jokes, but stops when you give him an unimpressed look.

“Sorry,” he laughs again. “And well, since I keep saying sorry today, and you look like you could use a little warming up, do you wanna leave this place and get some coffee? My treat.”

And really, who were you to say no to that?

And really, who were you to say no to Min Yoongi?

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his thoughtfulness quietly. It would go something like this:

A steaming hot coffee cup from the nearby cafe manifests itself on your desk one Monday morning. In your sleep-deprived haze, you had originally failed to realize that there was a hand connected to that cup and that it hadn’t actually just materialized from thin air like you had thought. After much blinking and staring, you crane your head up to see Jesus standing in front of you, his glasses still fogged from the outside chill.

“I got you a drink. I hope I remembered your order right,” Yoongi says in lieu of a greeting, a small smile gracing his lips as he watches you lethargically reach over for the cup to lift the lid open. His grin widens when he sees your eyes light up at the sight of little marshmallows bobbing up and down in your hot chocolate, bits of whipped cream already melting away from the heat. When you take a sip, you breathe a content sigh, your eyelids fluttering shut.

“Yoongi, I’m going to kiss your feet right now and you can’t stop me,” you say, upper lip lined with cream and sugar. Yoongi’s hand twitches by his side, but he doesn’t move.

“Even if I have toe fungus?”

“Especially if you have toe fungus,” you say, downing as much hot chocolate down your throat without choking and barfing all over him.

From the rim of your cup, you can see that Yoongi still has his parka on, his signature black mask pulled down his chin indicating that he’s only just arrived at the office. It makes your heart jump a little, knowing that he went straight to you first before anyone else that day.

“I still don’t understand how you hate coffee. Like, I don’t think I’d be able to be conversing with you right now if I didn’t have caffeine running through my veins,” he says, staring at you(r lips) as you chew a marshmallow thoughtfully.

You want to tell him that Yoongi doesn’t talk a lot anyway in the first place, though you have begun to notice that he’s becoming more talkative the more you hang out with him. However, you aren’t quite sure if you’re imagining it, but it seems like Yoongi’s change in personality doesn’t really apply when he’s with anyone else. On the days where you’d pass by his cubicle on the way to the water coolers, he’d still have his usual stoic expression on his face as he goes through his paperwork with the grace of a robot. When he’s with you, however…

“Says the guy who’s started drinking frappes after I suggested them to you. Don’t lie to me, Min Yoongi.” You’re giggling softly, and you can tell Yoongi’s seams are already breaking. Pink gums and straight teeth are seconds away from peaking through. You wink cheekily at him. “You’re just as sweet as your personality is.”

“Stop, that’s so embarrassing!” he exclaims, hiding behind his hands. He’s already smiling. “I’m not as sweet as you think! I’m a mean guy!”

“Yoongi, you literally just bought me hot chocolate with marshmallows because you remembered what I like. I don’t think there’s a mean bone in your body,” you retort, rolling your eyes at the prominent pout on his face.

“Not true! I stole an extra coupon booklet when I was at the grocery store the other day.”

“Ooooh, I do love a bad boy,” you say, but the two of you are already laughing hysterically. “Seriously, thanks. I really needed this today.”

“Dang, bad morning already?” he winces, having noticed the purple moons under your eyes when he had approached you. He didn’t want to mention it without you bringing it up first, but he had been worried about you since last Friday when you had left the workplace with a slammed door.

“Try bad weekend. Mr. Lee has been pushing my buttons for months now, but I seriously didn’t think he thought it was a challenge. He’s been giving me shitty filing jobs to complete like I’m some overworked intern!”

Yoongi cocks his head, confused. “Aren’t you, like… In the advertising department? Why would he make you file things?”

“Exactly!” You’re all but roaring now, but Yoongi can’t help smirking at the stray dollop of whipped cream that had somehow found its way on your nose. He pulls his sleeve over his wrist, swiping it away with the fabric as nonchalantly as possible (which is to say, he’s as red as a spanked ass when he does it.)

You don’t even notice his actions, still deep in the abyss of your rage. “And also! My shitty phone ran out of storage space the other day so I’ve had to delete all the songs on my library and I can’t find any good playlists on Spotify to help me dissociate on the train!”

“Wow, that’s a mood,” Yoongi says, chuckling. He clears his throat, an idea popping into his head. He turns bashful all of a sudden, gaze diverting upwards as he musters the courage to say, “I-I mean, I think I can help you with that last problem, if you want…”

You stop huffing and puffing long enough to appear intrigued. “Oh? Are you gonna send me a playlist?”

Yoongi splutters. “I mean! If you want it, I do have some songs that I like listening to.”

Yoongi squeaks when you smile at that, radiant and all-encompassing. He wonders how he’s not dead right now.

“Oh god, that would be great actually! Text me the link, would you?” you say, already making grabby hands for his phone. “Here, lemme put my phone number in your phone.”

Yoongi almost drops his phone as he takes it out of his pocket, staring in awe as he watches you type in your number into his phone. He has to keep himself from outright howling when he sees you place a sunflower emoji beside your name. How fitting, he thinks to himself.

When you return the phone back to him, he immediately texts you the link to his playlist. You have to keep yourself from screaming to the heavens when you see the very Yoongi-esque title, “Songs for the Sleepless,” complete with the grainy-noir-film-type playlist art to complete the look. It was just so… personal, so Yoongi, and it’s making you clench organs that you didn’t know were clenchable.

You whistle at the sheer number of songs on the playlist, with the first song being—“Didn’t peg you as a Lana Del Rey fan,” you pipe up, scrolling through his playlist with acute interest. “Kendrick Lamar and Epik High, I understand. But Lana?”

To his credit, the playlist did seem like it had a narrative of sorts, despite the eclectic range of artists and genres. You only recognize maybe ten of the songs from his five hundred song playlist, and you’re very curious to see what type of songs he connects to.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he shrugs his shoulders, though a little bit embarrassed. “Lana Del Rey could sing my obituary and I’d jump out of my grave in an instant.”

“Bit morbid but okay,” you laugh, finger ready to close your music player app when you catch sight of a song with an artist you didn’t expect to see. You reach over to tug on his sleeve, your sly smile already causing Yoongi to break out in hives. “Hey… I didn’t know you shared your name with a singer, unless, of course…”

Yoongi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when he yelps in surprise, snatching your phone out of your grip as his eyes bug out of his sockets. His ears redden, words tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall as he tries to explain himself despite your raucous giggling.

“I––You weren’t supposed to––I forgot about! That was––I was just––Ugh,” he groans despairingly, smacking himself in the forehead with your phone. You’re still giggling madly, enjoying the spectacle before you as Yoongi’s ears are practically shooting out steam.

“You’re so cute.” It slips out of your mouth with such ease that you almost don’t notice saying it at all; you’re still smiling dreamily at Yoongi as he stares at you in shock, mouth still agape from his earlier rambling. You gasp loudly when your brain cells finally catch up, but by then it’s already too late. Now, the two of you were a matching pair, with your fire engine red ears standing at attention.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that,” you mutter into your hands. You wish the earth would swallow you whole right now.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that,” Yoongi wails beside you, but you don’t notice the small satisfied smile he’s sporting on his reddened face. “Y-You can’t just say things and not expect me to…”

You look up, wondering why he’d suddenly trailed off at the end. “Expect you to what?”

Yoongi, once again, defies the laws of the universe by somehow turning even redder than humanly possible. “N-nothing. Ignore me. Let’s just admit we’re both embarrassing and carry on, can we?”

“Sure,” you agree, nodding enthusiastically. “But, does that mean I can listen to your songs, Mister Min ‘I’m-a-superstar-singer-in-my-spare-time’ Yoongi?”

“I’m not a superstar! I just record songs in my free time, that’s all,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Says the guy who apparently raps as a hobby! Seriously, I can tell I’m gonna love it already.”

His gaze is turned upwards, cheeks puffed up in embarrassment. He looks like he wants to say something else, however, and you wait for him as he tries to gather the courage to say what else is on his mind. “S-say, I was wondering… Since I’m already here and all, do you want to maybe go out wi—”

“Yo! Hyung!”

A deep voice from across the office floor snaps the two of you out of your little bubble in an instant. It doesn’t take a genius to tell who it is, not when there’s only one person in the entire company who would dare wear a sushi-print tie to work at one of the most lucrative companies in the country.

Kim Namjoon hobbles over to your little cubicle space in all his sushi-print tie glory, knocking over a coworker’s potted plant in the process. Between you and Yoongi, you had been more surprised by Namjoon’s sudden exclamation, mostly because you’d never been particularly close with the eccentric man. Yoongi probably can’t say the same since he had briefly mentioned that he and Namjoon go way back, though you’re starting to have some doubts about that due to the dirty glare Yoongi was currently pointing at the sentient noodles-for-legs.

Namjoon waves cheerily at you before cutting to the chase as he envelops Yoongi in a not-too-gentle hug. “Hyung! I’ve been looking for you. You weren’t at your desk this morning so I was wondering where you’d wandered off, but of course I’d find you here at Y/N’s de––”

Yoongi promptly stomps on Namjoon’s feet, causing the younger to yelp out in pain. “Namjoon. I told you I’d talk to you later.” Yoongi smiles sweetly, but you can see the aura of danger radiating off of him in waves. “Emphasis on later.”

Namjoon pouts petulantly, but he doesn’t look all that offended. “I was just gonna remind you to ask Y/N if she wanted to join us for lunch la––OUCH! WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET!”

Yoongi appears unbothered, not even looking back at Namjoon’s shouts of betrayal. All the while, he still has his gaze trained on you, never wavering for one second.

“Please ignore my colleague. He can a bit… Unnecessarily loud,” Yoongi says, accompanied by Namjoon’s splutters of indignation.

“Umm?? I’m right here?? Your actual best friend?? Geez!” Namjoon huffs, looking at the both of you incredulously. You just shrug your shoulders, completely dumbfounded by the last five minutes of human interaction.

“As Namjoon was saying before we were so rudely interrupted… I was going to ask if you wanted to have lunch with me? Namjoon can join too, but only if he behaves,” Yoongi jokes, smirking at Namjoon’s ireful glares.

You giggle quietly at the unlikely pair, amused beyond belief at this new side of Yoongi that you hadn’t been aware of. So this is how he is with his friends… Cocky Yoongi is definitely someone you wouldn’t mind talking to occasionally, you admit.

“Sure, I’d love to. Just let me finish all this filing crap for Mr. Lee, then I’ll head over to your desk at around 12?” If you work at a breakneck pace, then you could probably finish sooner if you didn’t let anything else distract you. “Oh! And I should probably return your umbrella before you leave. I keep forgetting to give it back to you.”

“No worries,” Yoongi says. “You should keep the umbrella. I’ve got a spare anyway.”

Namjoon’s head whips toward Yoongi at that, staring at him skeptically. “Dude. Ain’t that your favorite Kumamon umbrella though? Didn’t you almost murder me that one time I forgot it at the McDonald’s last mo––WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET! I’M GONNA GET FLATFOOT SYNDROME!”

“Not my problem,” Yoongi replies, pinching Namjoon’s nose for good measure. He turns to you, waving goodbye. “See you in a few?”

You stretch your back, psyching yourself up to get back to work. “Right. I’ll text you when I’m done okay? See you at 12-ish!”

The boys make their leave, bickering all the while. You catch wind of a bit of their conversation as they turn the corner, their voices echoing down the hall.

“Hey, I noticed that you were looking Y/N in the eye when you were speaking. Why don’t you ever look me in the eye when we talk!”

Yoongi snorts, flipping him off. “It’s because you’re not as nice to look at. Simple as that.”

In your seat, you smile secretly to yourself, butterflies erupting in your chest. Filled with newly found fervor, you chip away at the pile of work on your desk until it starts to vanish from view.

Before you know it, you’re off to see Yoongi once more.

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his vulnerability quietly. It would go something like this:

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his love quietly. It would go something like this:

Your day begins with a phone call: a warning. Your boss tells you to come into work as soon as possible, not a note of enthusiasm or friendliness in his tone. He ends the call just as abruptly as it had come, the silence following soon after deafening your ears. Your heart races marathons in your chest, and your brain goes to the worst place it can go.

Your hands are sweating gallons upon gallons as you shrug your coat on, fumbling with your keys as you struggle to place them in your pocket. For a brief moment, you think about calling Yoongi for moral support, but think better of it. You don’t want to bother anyone, especially not him.

You, the lone ranger, walk out of your apartment and into the murky urban outdoors, the first pitter-patters of rain making their descent the moment your foot meets the pavement. You don’t have quite the energy to go back inside to grab your umbrella, not when you’re unsure if you’ll be courageous enough to leave your bedroom once more if you did.

You’d always been a coward, a soft-hearted fool. Content with shouldering the consequences of your actions without another word: a sufferer in silence. For the past few weeks, you thought you might have changed. You’d been smiling a lot more, laughing a lot more. Your cheeks were often more red than any other color these days, and it was all thanks to a boy you know.

He was shy, but brave. Quiet, but talkative. Mysterious, but vulnerable.

He made you realize that there was no need to settle for one side of a coin, not when you could have both. The longer you stuck around him, the stronger your desire was to become… more.

You wanted to be open; you wanted to be known. You wanted to be able to ask for what you want, and never feel the crushing sense of guilt that usually came afterwards. You wanted to be unapologetic, wanted to keep your hands open, waiting for good things to come your way. To never cower in the face of a gift being handed to you. You wanted to have all that life has to offer––

(Him. Him. Him.)

But there is something pitiful about being unable to keep your own promises. The embarrassment of returning to the state where you once were, of turning meek at the first sign of adversity. The dreams of a happier life drifts away from you like mist under the morning sun, and the pressing weight of the world once again makes its home on your shoulders.

And so, you do not cry when your boss tells you to pack up your things within the hour.

You do not cry when you cut your finger on the corner of your desk that had never been replaced during your five-year stay at this company.

You do not cry when one of your potted plants smash to the floor when you try to carry too many things at once.

You do not cry when co-workers you’d only barely spoken to come over to your desk with showers of condolences, as if you’d already died.

You do not cry when Kim Namjoon walks over to you, quietly bending down to help you carry your boxes down to the lobby.

And when all is said and done, you most especially do not cry when Min Yoongi runs to you with his lungs burning in his chest, glasses still fogged up from the morning cold outside. His hair is in disarray and his shirt is on backwards, as if he’d jumped out of bed the moment he knew something was wrong. When he skids to a halt right in front of you, the pain etched on his face is as plain as day.

Wordlessly, he takes the last box out of your hands, placing his car keys on top when he can’t hold onto them both. His eyes flit towards your clenched fists for a second, but looks away the moment you notice. Instead, he walks out to the elevator, and you follow soon after.

You do not cry when Min Yoongi helps you load his car with your things. You do not cry when he takes a first-aid kit out of his glovebox and puts a band-aid on your finger. You do not cry when he offers to pass by the local home depot to pick up a new plant when he notices yours is gone. You do not cry when he doesn’t treat you like your life has ended.

(But you feel it. Pricking along your eyes like a dam about to break. He is doing this to you. He’s making you feel again, and it fucking hurts.)

And so, he drives you home.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Yoongi starts after a while, tapping a rhythm away on his steering wheel as he waits for the morning rush traffic to subside. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, worried when you don’t respond. You keep your head pressed against the cool car window, staring blankly at the gray skyline.

“I… I hope you don’t mind if I play you something. Just… Just listen to it, okay?”

You don’t see him, but you hear his fingers switch their tapping to his phone as he unlocks it, searching for the song he wants you to hear. It takes a moment or two for him to find it, soft curses tumbling from his lips as he goes through his Google Drive for the unfinished draft that he hadn’t meant to show you until it was complete, but well––

You were always an exception to him, weren’t you?

The first notes come creeping up from behind you, and it reminds you of the way Yoongi would speak to you. All soft whispers and gummy smiles, like he’s restraining himself. Slowly but surely, the music grows louder, more confident with its sound. You can picture Yoongi standing upright, hand outstretched towards you as he asks you to follow him.

The song is unfamiliar, but there’s something about it that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention. You’re trying to go through your memories, sorting through the hundreds of songs that Yoongi has made you listen to but none of them seem to ring a bell. You’re still trying to figure out if you’d heard this before when the lyrics finally start.

“Lost in the sea of my regrets, you became my polaris.”

Yoongi’s voice comes from the radio speaker, jolting you from your seat. Your spine straightens, and you stare bullets at Yoongi’s phone as the song continues to play. When you look towards him, Yoongi’s face is a statue; the only thing giving away the fact that he was with you at all was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“The shadows, which had been my haven, no longer feel as good as they once did. You, my light, have changed all of that.”

You gasp, and Yoongi’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. It seems like the two of you stop moving at that moment, neither of you daring to breathe. Even the outside traffic sounds muted compared to the sound of your hearts hammering inside your chests.

“I’ve long since forgotten to pray, but I will remember for you. I only dream of happiness for you, my morning light, my northern star. And I’d give it all up for you.”

Yoongi notices your tears fall before you even do; he’s quick to fluster, scrambling through his car side door for a tissue to hand to you, but he stops the moment he feels your hand fist the elbow of his sleeve. He turns to look at you, all blotchy and tear-stained, but beautiful all the same. And even through your tears, you smile just as radiantly as when he had first seen you.

“Thank you,” you mouth, fingers trembling as you fight to keep more tears from falling, but nothing can stop a dam from breaking. Not when you’re sitting beside the hurricane who broke it in the first place; it was the boy with feelings that never did quite fit in his body the way other people’s did.

Luckily, they fit right in with you.

When the song comes to the end, you’re sniffling up a storm, but you still haven’t let go of him. When you’re only a few minutes away from your apartment, Yoongi parks a little bit far off from your doorstep, so you have to walk the rest of the way home. But you’re still unwilling to let go, not yet.

Gently, Yoongi pries your hand away from his sleeve and you’re about to protest, but the words die on your lips the moment they form when Yoongi rubs his hands along the side of his slacks before placing them in yours. His hands are still cold, but comforting all the same.

“Let me walk you home?” he whispers.

You nod. Of course, you want to say. But he knows what you mean, anyway.

When he goes to unpack your things from the trunk, you shake your head, stopping him from moving any further. “I… I don’t feel like sorting through those things right now. Is it fine with you if I just… Go home for now? Please?” Your brain feels like lead in your skull after all the bottled up tears had finally escaped from years of constant pressure, and you don’t think you’re quite ready to go through all those emotions again. You feel deflated, but better. He always makes you feel better.

Yoongi closes the trunk, locking his car before stretching out his hands for you. You stare at the proffered hand for a moment.

“Oh, right.” Yoongi goes to rub his hands to warm them, but you stop him once more in his ministrations. He looks at you, confused, as you grab his hand from him. You rub circles into his palm, staring at the ground in embarrassment.

“You’re always warming your hands for me… So this time, I’ll warm them for you, okay?”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything in response to that. Instead, he tugs you along towards the sidewalk and keeps you close to him. As he walks with you, you notice the way he leans slightly to the left, like he’s drawn to you––like he can’t help be more than an inch further from you.

You keep glancing back down at your linked hands; he’s shaking, but then again, that could also be you.

You arrive at the gate of your apartment quicker than you would have liked. Neither of you move to separate; when you look back at Yoongi, you see that his eyes are trained on you. He doesn’t even flinch away like he used to. His lips are pursed, like he wants to say something but he’s still too afraid to.

So you say it for him instead.

“Do you have… somewhere to be?” Unlike you, he still has a job. He still has commitments. He still has a life outside of you. You’re hit with fear, once again, at the sudden change in your circumstances.

You might never get to see him again. Is this where your paths cross, never to intersect again? Your stomach drops at the thought, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“No, I don’t. I could…” Yoongi trails off, glancing at your apartment with soft hesitance. “If… If you want me to…”

Yes. Please. I’d love it. I love yo–– ”Yes. Stay with me?” you mumble.

“Always,” he promises.

The pair of you trudge up to your apartment, passing by the prying eyes of housewives with your heads bowed in embarrassment. They don’t miss your pinkies linked behind your backs, nor the subtle blushes on the apples of your cheeks. Thankfully, they don’t comment when Yoongi enters your apartment after you, but they do giggle when his coat gets caught on the door handle in his rush.

When the two of you are finally alone, the air isn’t as awkward as you had feared. You work like two cogs in a machine; he readies your TV and scrolls through your Netflix for a movie, while you go to your kitchen and have a small mental breakdown (while also microwaving some popcorn). Soon, the two of you are snuggled into your small couch, elbows barely brushing against each other.

You’re only half paying attention to the generic action movie that Yoongi had put on; you were still deep in your thoughts. You’re picking away at your hangnail, worrying your lip as you try to enjoy what might be the last time you’ll ever get to hang out with Yoongi again. You’re so deep in your musings that you don’t immediately feel when Yoongi wraps his arms around your shoulder, nestling your head into his chest.

“W… What?” You crane your head and stare at Yoongi in shock, but he’s already returned his attention back to the movie. His cheeks are burning.

You’re still stiff with tension despite his comforting caresses against your hair, so he changes tactics and brings your hand up to his.

You think he’s just going to hold your hand, but he keeps bringing your hand up until it gently caresses his face. Just as you’re about to ask him what he’s doing, he curls your fingers until only your pointer is left unfurled, and casually uses it to poke himself in the cheek.

He leaves it there for a second or two, and when you finally turn to face him, he’s smiling so sweetly at you that you almost feel compelled to cry again. His eyes and nose are all scrunched up, rose petal gums on full display. Your finger is still pressed gently into his soft cheeks.

“You said you liked to dream about poking my bread cheeks. Well, here’s your chance,” he says, like it’s nothing at all. As if what he has done was as simple as breathing.

Yoongi’s smile brightens when he feels your form relax against him, giggling softly when you go to pinch his cheek for good measure.

“Bread cheekies,” you say, like you’re in a trance.

Yoongi nods. “Bread cheekies,” he repeats. “And it’s all yours.”

There’s a promise in there, you know. Somehow, he had sensed your worry and had thought of the perfect way to calm you. Like always, he never has to say it. He’s never needed words, anyway.

The two of you stay like that for hours. The sun sets as surely as the moon rises, and Min Yoongi stays with you through the night. When your mind drifts off and only your steady breathing fills the room, Min Yoongi brushes a small kiss against your forehead.

“Dream of happiness, my love,” he whispers into your skin, just when he thinks you’re asleep, “I’ll dream of you, too.”

It’s a promise that he keeps.

There is a boy you know who never learned how to say he loves you, but it never mattered all that much to you––not when he’s willing to show you over and over again. It goes something like this––

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ocean-blue-whump · 2 years

Note

🎈?? for star :) bc i love her but i love hurting her…

Oh so you're like...mean mean. /j

Here's the list, still taking requests!

🎈 - A public party, strangers, and a pillory (or a hole in the wall).

Tagging @ashintheairlikesnow @whumpinggrounds @whumptakesthecake @justplainwhump @whumpfessional

CW: EXPLICIT NONCON, 18+, MINORS DNI, *heavy* dehumanization, lady whump, pet whump, BBU, objectification (calling Star an object/toy), noncon filming, multiple whumpers, dissociation, this is a pretty fucked up one

***

Sunny’s across the room and it’s all Star can focus on. His eyes are wide with fear from his spot straddling a man’s lap, placing forced, feather light touches all over the man’s lean chest. He’s shaking, too, pretty boy is shaking each time the man bounces him around a little, laughing at the way Sunny’s whole body locks with each movement. His fear is permeating the room. It’s all Star can think about.

It’s all she wants to think about.

The man behind her pulls out, coming in quick, hot spurts across her back. Star shudders as it begins to cool, leaving her sticky and disgusting.

If the Facility was Hell, what is this supposed to be? It’s just one nightmare after the other. She’ll have nightmares about this. She’ll have nightmares about all of it, and when she wakes, she’ll curl up in his arms, soaked in sweat, and try to pretend that she’s not a failure.

The man walks around and squats down in front of her, examining the pet. He grabs onto her jaw and squishes her face so her mouth is forced to open. Her hands twist uselessly around in their places locked on either side of her head. He tilts his head to carefully appraise her. “Hunter? How’d your whore get that scar?”

Mr. Bianchi appears in the background, a sour look on his face. “Don’t ask.”

Star knows they’re referring to the slice on her jaw, perfectly straight and perfectly ugly.

Don’t scar the face.

Mr. Bianchi scowls. "I don't want to talk about it."

She doesn’t have value anymore, not like this. She’ll always belong to Mr. Bianchi because no one else would want a Romantic with a scarred face.

The man in front of her shrugs. “Sorry for asking.” In one swift movement, he leans forward and kisses Star.

Star thrashes around, but she can’t escape the cruel grip of the pillory. She can’t be free. The man bites down on her lip as he backs away, drawing blood and, to Star’s horror and everyone else’s delight, a sinful, loud moan.

Mr. Bianchi laughs. “Damn! Wish you were just a slut for me, Starshine. Too bad I lost Fantasy Football and have to host this fucking party.”

The man who had just kissed her backs away. “Please. A voice like that is meant to be shared.”

In the corner of the room, Sunny whimpers as the man holding him toys at his collar, tracing a thick finger right along his jugular. Star thrashes at her restraints. She needs to be over there, pulling Sunny away, crouching over him and keeping him safe.

Another man walks behind her, and with no preamble, sheaths himself inside.

She’s nothing more than an animal like this, bent over, trapped in a rough wooded pillory and used as nothing but a fucktoy for these men. She doesn’t have dignity, doesn’t get dignity. This is what she wanted to be made into, and it makes her sick.

This new man is rough and fast, hands scrabbling across Star’s back, hitting a spot inside of her that she’s sure is bruised by now. Mr. Bianchi picks up the camera.

There’s a video being made of this, one where the camera is specifically angled to avoid the men fucking her but get every singe lewd angle of her. Mr. Bianchi walks around with the camera, getting a close up of her fucked out face. Eyes rolling into the back of her head, tongue out, drool dripping down her chin. He moves to stand behind her and she knows what he’s filming there in humiliatingly pornographic detail.

She’s not even human. It’s not like she’s paid to be in Mr. Bianchi’s movies. She’s a toy. She’s not even fucking real.

There’s something wrong with her wiring. Every single day, she gets more and more uncertain that she wanted this in the first place. She would run, if she could. But Sunny will stay. She doesn’t go without him.

The man finishes inside her, and his spend leaks out of her and onto her leg and that’s all she is to these people but she wants so desperately to be something more than a fleshlight that breathes.

She’s never going to be.

Someone’s in front of her now, unhinging her jaw with fingers tasting of beer and potato chips and thrusting himself inside.

She doesn’t have a gag reflex, they train those out of Romantics from the beginning. Real humans? They would gag and choke when something’s all the way down their throat. Not pets. She takes the pain and doesn’t make a sound, swallowing obediently when the man comes down her throat and sticking out her tongue to show she takes what she’s given.

They men laugh, but it’s just a hollow sound in the background since Star put herself on autopilot and decided to tune everything out. She wanted to start being good but this is the only way she can do it. When she’s not physically present for any of the stuff that happens to her.

She’s not allowed to talk like that, “happened to her.” She signed up for this, she’s just a pet, why does she want and want and want to be free?

But she’s just a pet in a pillory and she’ll never get to be free.

#nsfwhump #noncon tw #pet whump #bbu #box boy universe #box boy whump #box boy multiverse #box babe #lady whump #lady whumpee #romantic whumpee #dehumanisation tw #objectification #noncon filming #multiple whumpers #star #sunny #hunter bianchi #blue's words

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miyaniacs · 3 years

Text

CHAPTER THREE

NAVIGATION // Characters // Chapter Two

summary: Reader: female; 20 years old ; Apparently you know something… but what this something is you still got to find out.But curses, good and bad sorcerer now want to get you into their hands.Ending up in the hands of the good ones, y/n finally meets her old best friend again - Yuji. Now Yuji and his friends make it their mission to keep you save in this whole new world. Days turn into weeks and you become closer and closer to your ‚bodyguards‘

Warnings: slight NSFW (nothing explicit), mentions of blood (like only a drop of blood), bad writing in the middle bc i was unable to do it better andddd typos.

A/N: Hey.. sorry it took so long, but it was all so stressful and confusing with my BA. I don’t really like this chapter but i like the idea i got at the end of it haha Sorry if this is bad. Feedback, Comments, Reblogs are appreciated.

Your eyes widen and you quickly look down. Big mistake. Now your eyes are glued to his incredibly big muscles that show through his shirt.

You want to extend your hand and just touch them.

How is it possible for a human being to be this... this... just damn.

His arms cross over his chest. His biceps and triceps are flexed, slightly squishing his chest muscles, making them appear even bigger.

Your mouth hangs slightly open and your eyes begin to wander up again.

To his sharp jaw, then to a scar on the corner of his lips, his lips which look slightly chapped but still incredibly kissab-

WAIT.

STOP.

STOOOOOP.

Besides all the hot things about him the way he looks down at you, you feel frightened.

Raising his right eyebrow he chuckles.

And god it sounds hot.

“It’s not really polite to stare at the man you bumped into.”

“I- I- omg I’m sooo sorry.” You stutter and look down on your hands. He was right - you really embarrassed yourself right now.

“It’s fine, haven’t really felt it anyways.”

You really don’t know what to say or do, so you just keep on starring down at your hands. Something about him makes you feel so small.

“So... what brings you here babygirl?”

“Uhm.. just wandering around...” you mumble.

“Huh... and why is that?” He asks, amused by the state you’re in.

“Got too much on my mind.” You finally look up at his green eyes again.

There’s a glint in them.. but you can’t really make out what it is.

“Mhh you know I’m a good listener.”

“I don’t even know you.”

“Toji.”

“Huh?”

“My name- now you know me Y/n.”

“Wait how do you - wait no forget it, probably everyone around here now knows who I am.” You roll your eyes and plop down on the grass.

Toji sits down next to you and leans his head on his knee, looking over to you.

“So?” He asks.

“ I mean.. you probably know about the whole power thing and me right?”

“Yes I do.” He says and for a second there’s a small dangerous look in his eyes, which you obviously missed.

“And now they want to kill me, but this strange teacher promised me to not let that happen...” you sigh, “ but that isn’t really the real problem. Everyone expects me to stay here with them... But... no one thinks about the fuckin fact that I have nothing with me. Like I need some clean underwear? And my Uni stuff... and clothes... and arghhhh.... “ you sigh again and let yourself fell backwards into the grass.

“Oh yeah, why should you care if someone wants to kill you, when in fact the real problem is that you need to pass your finals.” He chuckles.

“I know I know... I just want to think about normal stuff..”

“I mean... I could distract you , if that’s what you want?” He smirks and glances down at you.

“Welll... depends on what we’re talking about.”

“Depends on what you want.” He lays down and rests his face on his hand.

Trying your best, you keep on starring into the sky and not look to your right.

A hookup with a hot stranger does sound like something that is appropriate to do during this time.

You bite your lip and keep on starring at the sky. The sun is slowly setting, which turns the whole sky into a beautiful pinkish orange light.

“Surprise me.” You say, trying to be cheeky, as you turn to your right and look at him.

Liking his lips, he smirks and gets up.

Confused you sit up and see him extending his hand.

Hesitating for a second, you finally lay your, comparably small hand, in his and he pulls you up as if you weight nothing at all.

“Where are we going?” You ask as he continues to hold your hand and drags you with him, further away from the buildings of the school.

“Mhhh you’ll see.” He simply says and keeps walking, slightly speeding up.

After a few more minutes, the buildings are barely to see and the anxiety starts creeping up inside of you. Why the fuck did you go with a stranger.

A stranger that is way stronger than you.

He’s not that hot, at least not hot enough to risk your life.

At least you’re now walking down a street, with other people around... maybe if you scream loud enough...

“And we’re here.” He stops in front of a building.

“Wh..Where are we.” You stutter and look up at him.

“My apartment.” He smirks and opens the front door.

“Ohh..”

After five more pairs of stairs, he stops at the door down the floor.

“Come on in.” He opens the door and holds the door open for you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t kidnap you or anything.” He chuckles.

Carefully you walk inside and hear him closing the the door behind him, locking it.

Whatever you expect his apartment to look like, it’s not this.

The room, is rather a loft.

Most of the walls are covered in windows, that reach down to the floor.

The bed is on the right, the kitchen on the left.

Everything looks modern and simple.

The most prominent colors aren’t real colors - Black and white dominate everything.

Some green touches thanks to a few plants.

Two Katanas hang right above the wall over the bed.

The bed is rather low, yet big with simple white sheets.

The kitchen is white too, all the electro stuff black, the few dishes that are shown, look modern and expensive.

In the middle of the room, are two big black leather couches with matching arm chairs. In contrast to the rest of the room, those look old - the expensive kind of old, not the worn out old.

“You can move.”

Turning around you see Toji leaning against the closed door, arms crossed over his chest.

“Uhm..” You look around not sure where to go. You don’t even know why you’re here.

“The couch.” He lays his hands on your shoulders and shoves you towards said couches, pushing you down on one. The leather is soft and you immediately sink into them.

“Relax, I thought you’re more fun.” He rolls his eyes and runs his hand through his black hair.

“I - I shouldn’t have come with you.. Uhm.. the others are probably looking for me.” You stutter. You really should not be here. What is wrong with you. Coming with a stranger. A total stranger. Why did you say surprise me. This wasn’t you. You tend to be more careful.

“Mhh... well let them search. You’re here now.”

“You don’t get it, they said it’s dangerous for me being alone.”

“But you aren’t alone.” He smirks and leans down his finger tracing over your cheekbone, down to your lips.

“And who said, that I’m not the one they try to protect you from?” He leans closer.

You can feel his breath on your skin. Your heart races.

He is right.

You had a bad feeling about him all the time.

Why did you come with him.

Fuck.

Your phone, you need to text Yuji and sent him your location or try to escape.

But even tough you know this is what you need to do... Your body doesn’t listen to you.

“Perfect. I always like the bad ones.” And with that you kiss him.

Why?

You really don’t know. Your body moves at its own, while a voice in your head screams and tells you to run - yet your hands wrap around his neck and you pull him closer.

His hands find your waist and he easily lifts you up, carrying you towards his bed.

“That’s the distraction I had in mind.” You purr against his lips.

His kisses travel down to your jaw, neck, cleavage...

Opening your eyes you star at the night sky. Your fingers trace over the soft cold grass.

Wait what?

Why are you outside.

Why are you- wait are you alone?

Quickly you sit up and look around.

Yes. You are alone.

And still near the small forest.

But... why are you alone...

You talked with someone... what was his name again... Toji!

Where is he?

“Y/N!”

“Y/NNNNNN!”

“YES?” You call out.

From the distance you can spot two figures running towards you.

“Y/N!” Yuji screams and speeds up.

“WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!” He screams and falls down on his knees.

“H- here..” you say and look up at the other person and screaming when you look into the same eyes you saw... what in your dream? Or whatever it was.

“What?” Megumi asks annoyed.

“YOU!”

“Me?”

“What’s with him?” Yuji asks confused.

“Uhmmm.. nothing.. I walked into a tree.. my head is still.. fuzzy.” You say, remembering your dream. Your hand reaches up and touches the exposed skin on your neck. You can still feel his kisses.

Who is he.

And why does he look like Yujis friend.

Confused you walk back to the dorms with the two.

On the whole way they complain about you not answering your phone, worrying them, etc. Apparently everyone was looking for you.

But shouldn’t anyone found you before?

You haven’t walked that far away...

___

It’s past midnight and you’re sitting on the ground in your room.

You can’t sleep and think back to when you arrived back at the dorms.

Everyone seemed relieved when you came back with Yuji and Megumi and asked where you’ve been. After you told them, leaving out the Toji part, Gojo was confused. According to him, he went through the while forest and you haven’t laid near it then.

You tried to lighten up the mood by joking about his blindfold, but he wasn’t in the joking mood and quickly cut you off and dragged you away from the others.

“Where have you really been?” He had asked you, without his blindfold on. His blue eyes practically starred into your soul.

“Literally where I told you.”

“IF you’ve been there, i would have saw you. Also... where did those come from then?” He asked you and pulled down your collar of your shirt. Dark blue marks cover your skin.

“I don’t remember me leaving them.” His eyes travel back up to your, now red, face.

“Uhm ... so ... I ...”

“Listen. I don’t care about whoever you’re fucking with, but keep your sex life low - at least until we figured out this whole mess. You don’t know about this world and who to trust and who not.” He stares at you and you only nod.

“GOOD.” He smiles, his character changed again.

“As a last resort, you know where my room is.” He winks.

There’s a knock on your door and you groan. Who tf visits you at this time.

“Yes?” You open it and before you can scream a large hand covers your mouth.

“Missed me?”

“Sukuna?!!” You mumble against his hand while he pushes you inside of the room.

“Yes my little pet.” He smirks and closes the door, “ When I remove my hand, you know better than to scream, yes?”

You nod and he removes his hand.

“Good girl.” He purrs and his sharp nail runs down your cheek and you feel your skin opening.

His eyes are fixed on you, while he brings his finger closer to his lips, licking up the small drop of blood.

“Beautiful. Just as I remember it.” His eyes roll back and a grin spreads on his face.

“I heard you had some fun today?” He opens one of his eyes and nods towards your neck.

“I- uhm... I don’t know.” You answer truthfully.

“Huh? Was it that bad?” He chuckles.

“No... I mean.. I don’t even know if it was real..” you open up to him.

Why are you opening up to him? TO HIM?

“Mh... that’s the seal puppy.” He smiles and sits down on your bed.

“Seal?” You ask confused and sit down next to him.

“This.” His finger tips on the spot on over your collarbone.

“The mark?”

“Yeah yeah... its real name is the infinity seal. When it’s activated an ancient power starts to ... well run trough your blood.” He lays down on the bed.

“You know ... it doesn’t only give power to others. It helps you too. Makes you stronger, faster, gives you some sort of sixth sense.”

“For what?”

“For well... Everything? My Queen... your... well ancestor I guess, told me it feels like a different person, living in your head... they warn you if you’re in danger, give you the right answer when you only have seconds to act, they just .. help you get what you want.. what you need.. what’s good for you...” he glanced up at you.

You immediately think of that strange feeling of your body moving against your will, while being with Toji.. was that ‘person’ telling you that you needed sex?? When you think about it, you really are less stressed now. Or were them the one telling you to run?

“You felt them?” He sits up and rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Oh yes... you did...” he leans closer to your ear.

“How did it feel like? Finally doing what you want to do... not caring about the consequences... or who you might hurt...” his hand creeps around your waist and pulls you towards his chest, “just doing what is good for You.”

“I- I- No... I felt bed,..., I knew the other would look for me and...”

“Nahhh nah nah... yet you didn’t listen to that part of you, why?”

“The other feeling was stronger.”

“See... They know what you want. What is good for you...” his fingers run up and down on your waist.

“Then... why .... why don’t I remember coming back here.” You stare at the door, not feeling his hand moving to your back pocket or realizing the situation you are in.

“You’re simply not used to the power. Your memories will come back eventually and the more you get used to them... you won’t get those blackouts.” His lips gaze over your neck.

“Why are you telling me all of this.” You breath out.

“Because I want you to trust me.” His hand leaves your waist and grabs your chin instead, turning your head to face him, he adds, “And I want you to know everything. I know that the white haired idiot won’t tell you everything. He’ll simply tell you what will help him - but I … I want you to understand the whole power, I want you to know everything before you choose to share this power with someone.” His thumb rubs the skin on your face.

“Sukuna..” you whisper and stare in his eyes, “what if they decide to kill me..”

“I already said that I won’t let this happen.”

“But … you’re only one person…. And they seem to be .. powerful…”

“Ohhh you don’t have to worry about that- I will protect you.”

“Thank you.” You gently smile at him.

“Now … I have to go. The brat will wake up soon.” He says and gets up, walking towards the door.

“Goodnight y/n.”

He walks outside and you fall down on the bed.

Behind your closed door, Sukuna licks his lips and looks down at the old finger in his hand.

TAGLIST (open): @laceymorganwrites, @nnessworls , @irreverent-dream , @fiona782 , @shadyjinyoung, @kasianthus @hello0i

#jjk headcanons #jjk x reader #jjk oneshots #gojo x reader #toji x reader #jjk hcs #jjk imagines #jjk x you #toji headcanons #toji x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x reader #jjk smut #gojo x you #gojo headcanons

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