#THIS HAS BEEN QUEUED FOR ALMOST A YEAR SO IT BETTER BE GREAT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thorne1435 · 1 year

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I have been on feminizing HRT for one year.

I mean, as I write this, the anniversary is about 5 days away, but I'm queuing it for the exact day, so you will be reading this on my anniversary at the earliest.

I feel the need to say something either to inspire other trans women to go get HRT (seriously go to Planned Parenthood they'll just give you hormones, no referrals. it's great. the informed consent model really saved my life), or to document my changes for pseudo-scientific purposes (this isn't a valid scientific source or anything, I just like to be open about it for information's sake). Either way, uh, let's talk about it!

This post isn't going to be strictly not-safe-for-work or anything, but because anatomical topics are often seen as NSFW, I would read this as if it's a smutfic, if I were you.

Obviously the first big change that everyone thinks of is breast development. I'm not gonna lie to you here, it's not like I got D cups, but I started at the age of 19 so it's not going to be phenomenal for me either way. With that knowledge in mind, I'd say I made out pretty well. I don't know exact sizing or anything, but it's noticeable to the point where I actually have to go out of my way to hide them when I am trying to present as a man around people I can't be out to. I can tell you that I was wearing a padded bra to pass better at work when they hadn't grown yet, and I'm at the point now where they are naturally the size that the (relatively dismal) padding had made them. So that's gotta mean something. I still don't have a lot of the vocabulary that a cis woman would have to describe these things yet, so uh...that's all I can do for you, as a description.

The first change that I noticed, though, was actually within the first week or so, which almost makes me think I hallucinated it, but I remember distinctly being shocked that my skin was already way softer and clearer, which is bizarre! I don't actually remember what it felt like before, but obviously I did at the time, and it was rougher, I remember that much. Not the case anymore! It's such a small detail that it can very quickly fade from your memory entirely, and that's kind of inspiring to me, even though I know it won't work that way for everything else, it's just nice that some parts of my boyhood are just gone forever (as long as i stay on the hormones).

The big change that might discourage some women from getting hormones is genital shrinking. And as I understand it there aren't many ways to avoid that, because suppressing testosterone just has that effect on the male body, but based on my early experiences with the reduced sex drive that is also present when you suppress testosterone, ask for Progesterone when you get started, because it helps a lot, especially with some of the more socially-inconvenient aspects of your hormonal change. There are also some T-blockers that supposedly don't have this issue, like for example Bicalutamide, but if you're going to get Bicalutamide, you're going to be on the standard, "years of referral and bureaucracy" tract, so...y'know, don't hold your breath on that one, it'll take you a long time. I'm fine now though. About a month after I added progesterone to my treatment plan I was back to normal sex drive and everything was fine. Of course, what I mean to say is that the shrinkage has stopped because of the return of my sex drive. It doesn't work that way for everybody, and I thought for sure it wouldn't work that way for me, but if you end up being like me, you could probably minimize the collateral by just asking for prog outright instead of waiting like I did.

Smaller change that makes me infinitely less suicidal and demoralized: my body hair has changed colors! That should be enough of a reason for every transfem to go out and get HRT right now, I mean it! It's so relieving. I remember when I was, like, "Officially Trans" (at least at work) but not on HRT, I used to get distracted by how my arms looked, especially when I was sitting in the sunlight and it was obvious, because the darkness of the hair felt so disgustingly masculine to me that it made me think I had no hope of ever passing as feminine to anyone. And obviously that was wrong: I was able to pass as feminine without hiding my arms at least once or twice before HRT (though to be fair I did not try often). But regardless of that, the fact that I don't spiral into anxiety and self-loathing every time I'm in the sunlight without a coat on anymore is probably the best change so far, all things considered. And I grew tits! So that's saying something, I think.

This body-hair change doesn't apply to my beard in quite the same way. I always had a really good beard as a man and a lot of people liked it and thought it looked great (I did not shave often enough I looked terrible, but I did kinda make it work I guess), it was a deep orange-red color which has now brightened out to that vague off-white blonde, pseudo-translucent color that your smaller peach fuzz hairs have. There are a lot of upsides to that, but there are some limitations to the effects. For example, even though I don't have to worry about stubble as much, when I don't shave it's still fairly noticeable if you're looking. The texture also hasn't changed, it's still very coarse. And this is a source of some dysphoria for me personally, because I don't like that I have a beard at all. Nothing to be done about that, of course, and I sort of think that's a "for good" thing? Even if I had the money for hair removal procedures a lot of them only work if you are pale-skinned and dark-haired, just for physical reasons. At least, last I checked. And while I am very pale-skinned I am not dark-haired. And, well...that's fine, it's whatever. It's fine...I'll just shave forever i guess its cool...its...its whatever... no its fine really im fine. its okay. im fine.

its fine.

Another good contender for "best change so far" is the mental and emotional change. I feel feelings now. I haven't done that in a long time. And it's kind of a rough transition to make, actually, because now I'm reacting very emotionally to things and I really haven't figured out how to cope yet. It's like I'm doing everything that I was doing before but now it's not a performance, it's just an actual innate response and honestly, it's really hard to control. I guess I'll have to work that one out over time. But I would take "Emotional" over "Dead inside" any day. I wish I'd done this sooner, for that reason alone.

Fat redistribution is a bit hard to measure because I've never really had much fat in the first place, but my coworkers told me that I was developing a more feminine silhouette, and that was about a month ago, maybe two? So, I guess what I'm saying here is that you should probably get a friend to look you over every month or so if you're really worried about this change, so they can tell you that you've developed child-bearing hips or whatever else you're looking for. This fat redistribution is supposed to apply to your face as well, and that's something that makes you look more feminine when you've been on HRT for a long time, supposedly. I find it really hard to notice, personally, because I always had a really thin face. And since I wore a thick full beard throughout all of my adolescence, I don't actually know what my old facial structure was, that well. I do think it's gotten thinner. But for me personally, I think that's made me look a little worse. Ya win some, ya lose some. Bitches be ugly sometimes, that's fine. beauty is subjective. It probably won't work that way for most anyone else, it's just I always had femboy-face. Too bad about my beard really, I could've tapped into a market there if I weren't so fucking hairy...anyway what were we talking about?

On the subject of hair, something has been happening to me that is not supposed to be happening according to a lot of the research I did before I sought HRT out. I'm noticing that small patches of my beard aren't growing at all, especially on the sides. I've also noticed similar effects on my leg-hair. That is, 100%, not supposed to happen. As I understand it, based on all the information I could find, HRT cannot undo changes. It can cause changes that haven't happened yet, but once something grows in, no matter what it is, it usually can't go away naturally. I'm not complaining. And, transgender HRT is a very sparsely-researched field as of yet, so maybe this is just something we don't know about, or something about my body chemistry in particular, IDK. I'm not a doctor.

Anyway, that's it. That's my little HRT anniversary journal. If I'm still on tumblr on 7/22/24, I guess I'll do this again. But I have no idea where I'll be in a year.

I hope this is insightful for someone. And I hope that when I look back on this, I either cringe or I cry. Because that means I'm growing up still. (see, that line? that's the one i'll cringe at.)

#transfem #trans #transgender #trans pride #hrt #hrt journal

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electricbluebutterflies · 2 years

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“ it's indescribable, the things i feel for you. “

Mid-era Jessica/Leto // this includes one of my favorite lines I’ve written for them so far (and y’all know I have been PROLIFIC) and I love it. PG-ish and late queued crosspost // also on ao3

She exists in peaceful silence, as time passes and she becomes more sure of her heart.

It is natural to internalize everything she can, to show no sign of the deep emotions beneath the calm she presents to the world around her. The importance of reputation has taken a different form than she had once expected, but there are still lines, still protocols she will never unlearn. Communication issues be damned, she does what she can, aware that she has become too visible and there is very little she can realistically do to change that.

If she holds to her protocols in private too… that’s her decision, and she sees even fewer problems there.

Time has been kind, she thinks on one of the quiet evenings. Time has been kind, and this placement has been more than she’d once dreamed and she’s done almost nothing to make that happen. All she has had to do is respond, open the fragile petals of her heart just enough, and-

She is in love. She’s had flickers of that thought over the past few years, always pushed away and re-translated because she was not made for that and every time she feels it too deeply to ignore she knows. She is supposed to be a weapon, a wraith, at best and most desperate a warm body. Even two years after her defiance was made public she knows this, knows that something inside her is broken, knows-

“You’re in your head,” her partner says, and this is part of why she loves him, how he responds to her behavior with a fearlessness unsuitable for his positions in the world. Their energy is indecisive tonight, like anything could happen but nothing has yet, familiar movements inevitable in some form but-

“Distracted,” she murmurs, well aware that will worry him. Her ability to focus is usually flawless, and if anyone had any idea how this love interferes with her self-control, well…

She’s already claimed her place as an infamous cautionary tale, she reminds herself. Her hidden internal life can’t make that any worse.

“Something happen?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” As if that’s ever worked – they are one and the same, she thinks sometimes, prone to the same weaknesses and habits and perhaps this is why she was paired to him but sometimes it’s almost overwhelming. He hides it better but he’s almost as prone to overthinking as she is, and the problem with knowing that is sometimes it’s fun to mess with, not even the manipulations she once thought would define her life but something softer and affectionate and-

This is why she should’ve kept better distance years ago. This is why she should’ve made her boundaries clearer and not let him change them as slowly and innocently as he did. This is why she should’ve-

No. Nothing worth regretting. That was what she’d promised the first night she’d accidentally showed vulnerability and found that she was still treated the same, that her value had not been determined by her carefully created false fronts. Years later, she can still try.

“What you’re saying isn’t what I’m hearing.”

Knowing each other too well goes both ways, Jessica reminds herself. It was never supposed to, but that was one of the first boundaries to fall, as soon as she started to accept that he liked her better as an actual person and oh what a crisis that was and-

“You’re distracting,” she corrects, this time for confusion. They are physically separate enough – the distance will be easy to cross when one of them decides to but that hasn’t happened yet – and not otherwise occupied, not-

It is one thing to listen as she does, to grow slightly more comfortable with the genuine compliments every passing season, to know that she has become the great love of her partner’s life and at this point there is no undoing that kind of bond. It is quite another to force herself to accept that she feels the same.

“Not helping…”

She takes a deep breath and a step back, steadying herself against a wall and why is she like this, why is she so unable to do the tiniest things, why-

In a fair world, some of the blame for her rebellions would fall on him, but this is how cruelly her order underestimates the existence of good men. When there is fallout, however many years down the line that is, neither of them will be safe, but until then…

“I can’t… it’s indescribable, the things I feel for you. And that makes me…”

This is a conversation she should’ve tried to have several years ago, she thinks, at the very least before she decided that having a child by him would at least give her different problems. She hadn’t even been able to admit her feelings to herself for more than a few heartbeats then, just long enough to remind herself why she’d put herself in a state of physical distress for almost a year and then right back to trying to compartmentalize because she used to be so good at that but she slipped and-

“I know. It’s alright.”

She melts a little, her understanding changed yet again. Whether it is even safe to use the words she wants doesn’t matter – if she ever does, she thinks, they will be breathed against skin, barely loud enough for her partner to hear. This is enough. Whatever she is comfortable with is enough. All he has ever asked has been her loyalty and what a small offering that has been, and-

“I can’t-“

“I know.”

She envies him sometimes, the emotional blocks he doesn’t have. There have been attempts at honoring her deeper boundaries, yes, but it’s been clear enough where his heart has been, how quickly he fell and how comfortable he has become with that permanence. Not just for her benefit either – she knows what is said in rooms she is not in, how consistently he defends her, the absolute loyalty that goes both ways and this is what corrupted her, the understanding of how safe she will always be and-

“I want to. And I can’t.”

He crosses the distance and pulls her into a loose embrace, just enough for closeness, enough for her to easily fixate on his steady heartbeat. “You don’t have to say anything about your heart if you don’t want to,” he murmurs against her hair, and she feels his voice more than she hears it. “I wouldn’t… push you like that.”

Sometimes she forgets they are both wounded from their pasts, but in moments like this she feels it, the story she has pieced together about why he is the sort of man he is. Good despite everything. Kind and affectionate despite everything. Different from the damage she carries, but close enough for mutual understanding.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t…”

“I can only break so many habits in one evening.”

He takes a kiss, and that feels like clarity enough.

#ebf writes fic #leto x jessica #queue

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louis-in-red · 2 years

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I saw Louis in my city!!!

Ever since that boy stepped in Peru, Lima has been WAY TOO SUNNY for autumn/winter! Usually, Lima is very gray with minimun sunlight during this time of the year, but the sun really came out the days Louis was here, and I'm so happy because the city looked extra beautiful (he also stayed in one of the fanciest places in the city near the beach and the hotel had a pool so I hope he took advantage of it).

I couldn't get the day off yesterday because I was on holiday last week, so my chances of queuing early were none (I wasn't planing on going in the morning either way but I didn't want to go late). Because of work (adult life sucks) I arrived at the venue around 7pm (also the venue is far away from where I live, it took me an hour to get there), expecting everyone to already be inside because doors opened at 6pm, but I was surprised to see a very long long line that circled the Mall (the venue is inside a mega huge mall). I waited for my friends to arrived and we waited closed to the entrance until everybody got in, but after a while we realized it was better if we just queued😩. At the end we entered around 8:30pm when Sunroom was already playing so we missed the majority of their set. Since there was time till Louis started, I bought merch (the black t-shirt with the red eye) and then just waited with my friends for the concert to star 😄

He was late 😅 like for 10 minutes I think? but soon enough we saw the band getting on stage and the lights and We Made It started playing and then HE GOT ON STAGE and MY GOD!!!! I couldn't see him properly because I was almost in the back haha but the screens helped a lot!! (I saw jdelf🔪…) And I have to mention here how important and relevant was to start the concert with that song for us Peruvians because I know many Peruvians Louies fought very hard to have Louis here in our country which often is not included in tours 🥺. It was extra special and I was super emocional during that song. The energy in the venue was great since the start, specially during the 1D songs... which tbh I didn't mind because I know the fanbase is still very much 1D focused, but they totally made the concert about HIM. I didn't see any signs about a 1D reunion or about any ship or any dolls that weren't Louis, at least in my section, and that made me so happy because I was quite scared since I know how popular that ship is here in Peru (someone even mentioned it in the news but I won't focus on that), and from the photos I've seen of the barricade, I think the focus all the time was on Louis, which is how it's supposed to be.

I was sort of surprised that many didn't know the lyrics of Change(s) or Copy, but then I realized maybe it's because most of the people around me seemed like casual fans (not very much invested in the personal life or obvs not into deep in the fandom as me haha) and maybe they didn't even watch any livestreams before. At the end I realized it didn't matter that not everyone sang the new songs, because when Louis asked us to scream we delivered. I was also a bit concerned about the outdoor venue because a close one helps with the acoustic of the screams and the noise (and I wanted us to be super loud), but the crowd really came through!!! like the energy was amazing, super fun and electric and you could tell everyone there loved Louis.

I have to mention how special hearing Change(s) felt this time, as well as DLIBYH. Mainly because for a while I was feeling a bit meh about many things, including my job and in times the fandom, like for a bit I was feeling way too many things and many aspects started to bothered me way more that they should... I'm rambling haha... I feel way better now, like I think I needed this leg of the tour to happen to feel this energy, to feel Louis close to us, and those two songs are just... so great 😭 so comforting. Even my friend who didn't listen to Change(s) before said it was the best song, lyrically and emotionally and that she can't wait for the next album to come out (honestly same haha).

Now... Michael... what the hell??!!! he is so HOT!!! playing his guitar, being all daddy on stage and then all shy when fans approach him in the streets. Like everyone was always screaming for him, specially me and my friends haha like the thirst for Mikey is real (Louis would approve, I know it). My friend already follows him on insta and says he is a hottie 🥵

I loved being there with one of my best friends! since I'm always second guessing everything I was thinking maybe she wasn't going to enjoy it that much since she isn't fan of Louis like me, but I was surprised to see that she knew every song in Walls and that she loved the concert and that now she is hopefully closer to being a Louie 🫢 The other friends I was with were also happy and jumping and singing at the top of their lungs, and they just made the whole experience a great one!! I felt so young again!!

Last but not least, experiencing this in my own country was extra especial and even though I wasn't anywhere near him as I was in Buenos Aires, this felt different because ... this is where I live, this is where I was born, where I've lived most of my life... Louis WAS HERE??? AND HE LOVED IT? HE KEPT SAYING "LIMA/PERU" AND MY HEART COULDN'T TAKE IT? LIKE HE WAS THE SWEETEST VOICE??!!! And he was so baby yesterday, clean shaved and in his baggy shirt and his almost tight black jeans, and he kept saying that he felt our love, that our country was beautiful and he just has my heart you know? he already had it but now he has it more 😩

So yeah... this was long and I could probably write more but I just want to close this by saying that every time I think I couldn't be more proud of Louis, he shows me that I can. Yesterday was magical, healing, lovely. I wish Louis the very best all the time, and I hope he knows, I hope he knows how much we love him and how much he deserves this because he does❤️

#my concert #louis en peru #ltwt22: lima

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fruitylouis · 2 years

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How as the show????

(also totally didn't mean to unfollow and refollow you just now...)

oh thank you for asking 🥺 i’m gonna try to make this as short and coherent as possible but it’s just gonna be me rambling fvsjdf

the show was just… magical. louis is magical. uh where do i even start KDJSKF ok. he’s so PRETTY??? i mean wbk but oh my god… photos and videos don’t do his beauty justice!! and of course i need to mention how much tinier he is in person. he’s so so sooo pretty and tiny <3 as soon as i saw him i was like “pixie on stage!”

his voice. how do i talk about his voice? well instagram lives definitely don’t do it justice! we’ve heard him sing live so many times but being there while he performs is just something else. he sounded so so incredible i was in awe the whole time. i mean i know he can sing but he’s been touring for months now and he doesn’t sound tired at all? his voice never falters? it’s actually the opposite? he just gets better and better with every show. and listen. i know nothing about singing but i do know louis’ voice is perfect and one of my favorite things in the world ❤️‍🩹

his band is also SO GOOD omfg i love them. the guitar solo in fearless. holy shit. it was just 👩🏻‍🍳😙👌🏻 michael 👩🏻‍🍳😙👌🏻 ah and seeing the band thank the fans for the show as they left the stage was so cute <3

oh i almost forgot to mention sun room rip. they were so much fun!! when we got inside i was so tired from being in the sun the whole day and then running and climbing stairs but when the music came on i suddenly got all my energy back and more lol ✨

the only thing that wasn’t so great about my experience was my spot ☹️ i was at the barricade but on the right (or louis’ left) and i’m beating myself up for this bc that was CLEARLY not a good spot but my dumb ass thought it was :( then i couldn’t leave bc the middle of the pit was even worse at that point. i’m trying not to dwell on it but it’s hard fjskdf after all i queued for 10 hours :/ (apparently not nearly enough bc a lot of people camped for WEEKS. i kinda hate brazilian fans tbh) and people who were behind me in line got way better spots (including a girl who kept singing the entire 1d discography while we waited. yes i am petty and jealous). i won’t even post the videos and pics i took bc they’re embarrassing 😭 but i watched the show next to oli and krystle lol (and chris too for the first few minutes)

but anyways! LOUIS WAS SO HAPPY!!!! and to think i was part of that… AHHHH 🥺 i mean the things he said specifically about brazil and our crowd just from his FIRST solo concert here… it has already done more for me than therapy! that moment during beautiful war when he just stopped to take it all in??? i almost fell to my knees and started sobbing. i’m proud of making him feel so loved and appreciated 💗 also after last night i can’t understand how there are fans who care about anything other than him???? like. nothing else matters.

i’ve lost 50% of my voice and i can’t wait to lose all of it tomorrow when i see him again hehe <3 i think that’s a nice reminder that i screamed songs i love and have waited so long to hear live :’) i truly had an amazing experience and the thought of him not being back in a few years is even more terrifying now 😵‍💫

#ltwt22: rio #my show #crying sobbing can’t believe this is a real tag #ask

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rheallsim · 2 years

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I just wanted to make a little post explaining why I haven't been as active here lately, so here goes!

[Fair warning, there's discussion about chronic health issues (Chronic Fatigue in particular) under the cut.]

So I really, really miss the old gameplay posts I used to make, for the Velasquez Legacy, my LEPacy family, the Globetrotter Challenge, etc. I miss the engagement and I miss the stories and I miss seeing my sims faces pop up on my timeline when their queued post is published.

The issue is I've been struggling for the past few years with worsening chronic fatigue symptoms. Nowadays I sleep on average of 9-12 hours every day and I still wake up just as exhausted as when I went to sleep. Most days I don't end up getting out of bed until 2pm in the afternoon, and it's not for a lack of trying; I'm just a complete useless utter zombie if I try to wake up before my body is ready to.

I started a job at the beginning of this year, a really good one for my circumstances, working from home five hours a day, twice a week. My coworkers were fantastic, my boss was the best boss I've ever had, and they worked so hard to accommodate me and my fatigue issues, but after working there for seven months I realized that my CFS was getting worse, not better. So I had to quit. :(

It was the first real job I'd had since 2010. It was such a wonderful opportunity, and with such great people, and I was heartbroken that I had to leave them. They said they'd do their best to welcome me back if I started to feel better, which was so kind of them! But right now I have no idea when that will be, if ever.

I've had CFS symptoms since well before COVID-19 hit us all, but my doctors didn't get their act together to seriously try and find me a specialist to help until around the time COVID hit. And of course, so many of the CFS resources, of which there were very few to start with, are now taken up by folks suffering with Long Covid, which presents almost exactly like CFS in many cases and have been treated by the same specialists.

I've been trying to find a specialist to take me on for years now, and haven't been able to find anyone. I've taken all sorts of tests to try and figure out what causes my fatigue, and even though we've ruled out a lot of things, we've found nothing that's helped. I've just been steadily getting worse over time, losing more and more of my life to this brain fog and lethargy.

Just a couple weeks ago, a referral to a specialist I was waiting on since February finally got back to me to say "We faxed your family doctor back in June to say we weren't taking any CFS patients, didn't he tell you?" And of course, he didn't. This is the third time he hasn't told me that a referral has fallen through and I had to find out months later on my own.

Years of my life have been taken up by this. Waiting months and months on a referral only to find it's a dead end and having to start all over again. And because of the current family doctor crisis and other health system issues it takes months for me to get another appointment with my GP just to discuss this all and have the process repeated for another year and a half to year-long wait.

Anyway… I'm sorry for rambling at you all! Long story short, I've been losing myself into a lot of escapism-type games that require little brain. And unfortunately, taking screenshots and writing gameplay stories for the Sims takes just a little too much brain for me to be able to do it reliably. So I've been taking a break from the social side of Simblr, and just letting myself play how I want for a while at my own pace.

Other than playing games I've been getting heavily into embroidery. When I have good days where I can actually focus long enough to work on it I've been really enjoying myself! Here's an example of some of the things I've made:

I miss being creative. I miss drawing, I miss writing, I miss creating things. I mourn for the life I could have had if it hadn't been taken away from me by CFS. But I'm grateful that I'm here, I'm grateful that I'm not in pain, that I'm otherwise healthy, that my family and friends and pets are wonderful and healthy, and that I can still embroider and make nice things when my body allows me to. Things aren't all bad. <3

Thank you for reading this far, if you have. I miss you all, and I hope you're all well! Keep being awesome, you're all so good at it. 🥰

#Rheall Rambles #Text Post #non-sims #Chronic Health #Chronic Fatigue Syndrome #ME/CFS #Chronic Illness #fatigue

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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years

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Off the Record

Hello!! I am super excited to finally post my entry for @levihan-drabbles competition :D The prompt was super interesting and I had a tonne of fun writing this one!

The prompt I received was: Hange posts a picture of Levi somewhere and it becomes a meme.

(For those curious, this is the meme I used for inspiration)

Hange pushed her plate across the table and grinned at him. "Levi! Fancy seeing you here! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Levi's lip curled.

"You know what," he said. Hange braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her knotted fingers.

"Enlighten me."

Colour rose in Levi's cheeks. For a moment, Hange felt a little guilty. For all Levi's grumbling and grunting, Hange had never seen him angry before.

"That bullshit article."

"Ah. Was there a problem?"

Hange met Moblit in a small cafe a little way down the road from the newsroom. She was in good spirits—her morning had been productive; she'd made steady headway with research for her next interview, finished the final edits for a few smaller tabloid pieces she'd been meaning to brush up, attended three short, perfunctory meetings on tedious company policy, and laid the groundwork for another exciting interview opportunity.

She felt good. And now she had the pleasurable prospect of a hearty lunch, a passable cup of coffee, and perhaps best of all, Moblit's company. His company, and his camera.

Hange threw herself into the seat opposite Moblit the moment she spotted him, hunched over his laptop in a corner of the cafe. He lifted his coffee cup just in time for Hange to clatter against the table, the thin metal frame rattling precariously. She offered him a sheepish grin.

"Sorry," she said, and then, "got anything exciting?"

"I don't know about exciting. Interesting, maybe, but no breaking news."

Hange flagged down a passing waitress with one hand, and waved Moblit off with the other. "Doesn't matter, doesn't matter," she said, then paused to order a drink and her favourite sandwich. "Tell me anyway."

"I got a tip-off from a waiter at Sina's."

Hange's eyes sparkled behind her glasses. She sat forward in her chair, folding her arms on the table top as she leaned closer. "Who?"

"Take a guess."

Hange grinned at him. Moblit was not one to play coy; he did his job and did it well, and reported his findings efficiently. To leave her to question it meant one of two things; he had photographed someone very high profile indeed, or it was somebody Hange was, for better or for worse, well acquainted with.

Or perhaps, if she were lucky, it was both.

"Let me see him, then."

Hange had taken far too much time in the cafe with Moblit. He had given her a rundown of all the details he'd gathered during his field work that morning, and shown her through his extensive photo gallery. It was impressive, the kind of archive Moblit could cultivate with only a 45 minute breakfast window.

Hange had been delighted. Moblit was right; it wasn't breaking news, nothing particularly thrilling, but there was a corner of the Internet, Hange knew, that would delight in a trashy little article just like this. Something quick and simple to bulk up the social media feed for the afternoon.

Plus, there was a series of pictures Moblit had snapped, a cluster he'd thought to be of no real merit, that Hange simply could not pass up.

She could lay down no facts with a story like this one. There was no hard-hitting investigative journalism to be had, but she could at least offer some speculation based on her knowledge of the subjects involved, and spin a tale juicy enough to get people talking.

It took little time at all to put the article together. Hange scribbled up an outline for the contents—the location; Sina's in downtown Hizuru, a luxurious restaurant serving five star meals at every hour of the day. High in quality, sickeningly steep in price. The time of day; 9am. To the best of Hange's knowledge, this was rather out of character for the subject. He was an early riser, but according to their interview last March pending the premiere of his newest movie, he wasn't the type to eat much at all before lunch time.

And then, the company. Eren Yeager was a relatively well-known actor, barely an adult at nineteen. He starred in his first role a decade earlier, and had seen commercial success in multiple movies and TV shows ever since. He had been something of a prodigy in his younger years, bold and precocious, possessing a natural talent many actors years his senior couldn't even hope for. As Hange understood it, he had recently hit a rather troublesome phase. An interesting line of inquiry, but despite his talent and his fame, Eren's presence was simply a cameo, compared to the subject of the article Hange was drawing up.

Levi Ackerman.

Levi is a fan favourite and a media delight. He's attractive no doubt, and his performance in any and every role is almost always met with critical acclaim. Outside of his career, however, he's an elusive thing, silent in any matters pertaining to his private life. He avoids any public event like the plague, and rarely shows his face at premieres or award ceremonies if he can possibly avoid it. He gives interviews only when required by some contractual obligation or other, or else when the journalist in question is so painfully persistent that it is simply easier to give in than to keep fighting.

Little of his personal life is known, but it is impossible for someone in Levi's position to avoid interacting with anybody at all, and even the great Levi Ackerman is not above scrutiny.

There are rumours. Several of them, accounts from fellow cast members, from staff, from directors, and even Erwin, his manager, has alluded more than once to Levi's sour disposition. He is prone, Hange has heard, to fits of anger, and is easily disgruntled by minor inconveniences. His dislike of anything unclean or untidy is the stuff of legends—Hange has seen this first hand, at their very first interview. He had entered the room, scowled at the chair before sitting in it, and given Hange a thorough once over before announcing, with no hint of humour, "your glasses are filthy."

Hange had found him both fascinating and quite delightful, in his own strange way. When he acts, Levi sounds eloquent; he is a master of emotive performance, wringing the last drops of anger, despair, or grief out of each and every word, or else injecting the perfect giddy jitter, or a tremor of humour when the scene called for it. As soon as the cameras stop rolling, though, Levi's tone becomes flat, and without a script, his words are clumsy and crass. He communicates poorly, quick to throw insults and crude remarks. Hange has interviewed him a number of times—she counts herself very lucky that Levi will consent to her requests without too much fuss, these days—and each time she finds herself spending half of their time together translating his answers into something a) family friendly, and b) understandable to the everyday reader.

There is nothing for Hange to translate this time. Moblit managed to speak to the waiter after Levi and Eren had vacated in hopes of gleaning any small tidbit of knowledge regarding their conversation, but the venture had been hopeless. The pair had grown silent upon the approach of any staff member, and spoke in tones too hushed for anyone nearby to hear. They learned nothing they couldn't extrapolate for themselves from Moblit's pictures; Eren looked sheepish, avoiding Levi's gaze in favour of staring into his drink, while Levi—

Levi looked furious.

Every picture featured his signature frown, which, in and of itself wasn't enough to assume Levi to be in any mood besides neutral, but some of the photos show a hint of bared teeth or pursed lips, with his brows pulled lower than normal, the space between them deeply creased. Hange found herself curious as both a journalist and as an acquaintance. They may not be friends, but Hange liked to think she knew Levi a little better than most people, at least. She could find nothing in their past interactions to suggest any relationship with Eren beyond the strictly professional. They had over a decade between them, and though they had worked together on more than one set, neither party had ever said anything to insinuate so much as a friendly attitude between them.

There was no resolution to her queries to be easily found. And luckily for Hange, this particular piece didn't require any. It was a gossip article, something spicy, jam-packed with buzzwords, what-if's and more questions than answers, designed to make people wonder. Levi's name in the title would be enough to draw people in; Eren's name was an added bonus. But the star of the show was Moblit's photography. Hange arranged the images she had chosen in a grid. In context, the pictures were intriguing, depicting a particularly ferocious part of Levi and Eren's exchange. Out of context, they looked a little ridiculous. Both would bring readers onto their home page.

Satisfied with her work, Hange queued the finished article for review, and turned her attention back to her schedule.

The article launched mid-afternoon. Hange watched, somewhat satisfied, as it was received much as she had expected it to be. The activity on their Twitter account skyrocketed, the tweet in question garnering more likes, retweets and replies in the hour after it's post than any other they’d dropped in the last month.

Hange had allowed it to slip from her mind after the first hour or so. She received praise from her bosses, and a text from Moblit, jokingly demanding she pay him even more handsomely for his work than she already had, and her cousin had called her in the evening on a quest for insider gossip she could share with her friends, but that had been the end of it. Hange thought of it no more until early the following morning, when she had stopped by the quiet little cafe beneath her flat for breakfast and her favourite coffee.

She had been polishing off her pancakes when the bell above the door chimed. She had paid little attention to the newcomer, until a shadow passed over her table, and a familiar voice said, "Oi, shitty glasses."

Hange looked up to see Levi Ackerman himself standing over her, his face twisted in a scowl.

There are perks of being reasonably acquainted with Levi. Hange always gets to conduct his interviews, and Levi only ever turns her down if her request is unreasonable. Like that time she demanded he meet her at this very coffee shop for "just a quick piece, about the cameo you did for the new season of Titans", only to show him she'd bought a new pair of glasses—"look, all clean!"—and, when pressed, admitted there was no interview at all. He had been far more hesitant to indulge her in smaller affairs after that, but Hange was still lucky enough to be his only regular interviewer after big releases.

More interviews means more commission for Hange, and more high profile work with other celebrities. Yes, being acquainted with Levi has its bonuses.

But it also has its downsides. Namely, that Levi will not hesitate to turn up at her regular coffee shop to berate her after she has posted some complete and utter wank at his expense.

Hange pushed her plate across the table and grinned at him. "Levi! Fancy seeing you here! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Levi's lip curled.

"You know what," he said. Hange braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin atop her knotted fingers.

"Enlighten me."

Colour rose in Levi's cheeks. For a moment, Hange felt a little guilty. For all Levi's grumbling and grunting, Hange had never seen him angry before.

"That bullshit article."

"Ah. Was there a problem?"

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?"

Hange sat back in her chair and sipped at her coffee. Levi's face was full colour now, a pale pink flush from his neck right up to his hairline. Hange gave him a measured look, then kicked out the chair opposite her.

"Sit," she said. "If you have issues, I'd be happy to discuss."

Levi looked for a moment like he'd like nothing more than to strangle her. Then he pulled out the chair the rest of the way, and dropped himself into it.

"I don't give a fuck about the article," he said. "It's shitty gossip anyway."

Hange raised a brow at him. She opened her mouth to continue when, without prompt, a young waitress approached their table, practically bouncing on the spot as she stopped and gave Levi a dazzling smile. Her cheeks were flushed prettily, and Hange would have thought she were simply starstruck, if it weren't for the light of mirth in her eyes.

"Good morning, sir. Can I get you anything?" She gave Levi no chance to respond, before plowing on. "Water? Or tea, perhaps? Forgive me, but you seem a little upset. Might a nice tea calm you down?"

Levi grit his teeth. "No, thank you."

Hange almost apologised to the poor waitress on his behalf, but she didn't look bothered at all by his rudeness. In fact, she had barely turned from the table before she snorted in laughter, and caught her giggles in her hands as she scurried back behind the counter. A second passed, before all three waitresses snickered.

"That," Levi hissed, "is your fault."

Now Hange truly was confused. She furrowed her brow at him. "How does that have anything to do with me?"

"You and your stupid article," he said. Hange looked back to the waitress, who looked to their table again before falling into a fresh fit of giggles. Hange turned back to Levi, a little sympathetic.

"I think she just fancies you."

"You're trying to tell me you really don't know the mess you've caused?"

Hange shook her head slowly. Levi watched her closely, searching for proof of the lie, but Hange's earnestness must have shown through, for Levi's anger abated a little, and he slumped back on his chair.

In lieu of a verbal explanation, Levi pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, typed something out, and scrolled a little way, before placing the phone on the table and sliding it towards her. Hange pulled it closer with a frown.

The screen displayed Twitter, and showed the feed beneath the search for Levi's name. Hange scrolled a few posts, eyes widening little by little as she went.

Levi was right. The contents of the article were of little significance at all. The photo grid, however, had gone viral overnight.

It showed four pictures of Levi and Eren, taken in succession. Each one showed only a portion of the back of Eren's head, but Levi's expression in every frame was more animated than Hange had ever seen him outside of his movie scenes, and each was more distraught than the last. Face tight, jaw clenched, teeth bared, with his finger pointed condescendingly in Eren's face. The second last picture shows his brows arched and his lips pressed into a thin line, and the final one—

Hange had laughed at it in isolation when Moblit had shown her. She had fully expected it to garner a few laughs, but she hadn't expected a photograph of Levi furiously slurping his tea to become a meme in less than 24 hours.

"I see," Hange said, as she calmly slid the phone back to him. "In my defense, you don't help yourself. It wouldn't be half as funny if you didn't hold your tea cup so weird."

"In my defense," Levi snapped, "If you didn't post it online nobody would have anything to laugh at."

Hange crossed her arms on the table and leaned towards him, smiling pleasantly. "In your defense, you wouldn't have been so angry in public if it weren't for whatever Eren had to say. What was that about, by the way? I'm terribly curious."

Hange expected a very Levi response to her prying; a scowl, perhaps a quick kick under the table, an 'It's none of your damn business, four-eyes', if she were lucky.

What she got instead was a haughty sniff, and a gruff, "He's fucking my cousin."

For a moment, they were silent. Either Levi's anger at his new meme status had temporarily disabled the part of his brain that blocked any mention of his private life from slipping past his lips in the wrong company, or something about Eren's indiscretion had rattled him so much, he couldn't keep silent about it. Either way, he looked increasingly surprised—and horrified—at himself for saying it out loud. Hange's eyes were wide, and Levi's were growing wider by the second. Of all the people to slip up to, he had slipped up to her. An entertainment journalist, the one person in his life who thrived on this kind of insider knowledge.

Hange swallowed. Levi was still staring at her like a deer in headlights, no doubt painfully aware that there was no taking back what he had said now.

Hange doesn't take a great deal of pride in what she does. She feels satisfied when her stories receive the reception she'd predicted, validated in her ability to analyse their consumer base and make accurate assumptions about what will hit and what won't, but the work itself feels dirty, at times. An opportunistic scavenger feeding on whatever carrion they can find, no matter how rotten it may be.

This is a perfect opportunity. Salacious details of Levi's interpersonal relationships, right from the horse's mouth. If it were anyone else, Hange would be scribbling every word verbatim in her notebook.

But this is Levi. Levi, who seems jarred by her last article (though Hange will maintain this, at least, is no real fault of her journalism, and also, absolutely hilarious) and was clearly, for whatever reason, incensed by Eren's actions.

Hange brushed her palms over her thighs, and picked a speck of lint from her trousers.

"This is nice, isn't it?" She said, "having breakfast together. We should do it more often. It feels good to just talk, sometimes. Off the record."

Levi blinked rapidly at her. He opened his mouth, but, still too shocked by his own loose tongue to speak, he said nothing. Hange pulled her phone from her bag and fiddled around with it some, tapping here and there, until she found what she was looking for. She turned it to Levi, and said, "I think this is my favourite edit so far."

Levi finally pulled his gaze from her, and looked down at the screen. It was truly something, the way the picture snapped him out of his stunned silence. Hange had never seen someone's face pinch up so rapidly.

"Come on, it's kinda funny. And look! That's Tony Stark, right? People are so creative. And maybe, if we're really lucky, Buzzfeed will do a compilation article of all the best ways people have used your new meme."

Levi rolled his eyes at her. It looked strange, with his face so tightly twisted. Hange chuckled at him.

She nudged his ankle beneath the table with the toe of her shoe. "Lighten up, you look constipated."

"Oi, out of the two of us I'm not the one who's full of—"

"—Full of shit, I know, I know. That honour is all mine."

They lapsed into another silence, this one marginally more comfortable than the last. Hange finished the last of her coffee and checked her emails, while Levi tortured himself some more by scrolling through his Twitter feed. After a short while, he spoke again.

"That...doesn't sound bad," he said.

"Hm?"

"What you said about talking more. Off the record. It doesn't sound bad."

It was Hange's turn to flush. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she occupied herself by rifling through her bag in search of nothing.

"Yeah?" Her voice, an octave higher than usual, cracked around the vowels. She cleared her throat, "will you have more gossip for me? It's almost painful that I can't share it, you know."

"Good. I'll share as many secrets as I've got, if it'll bother you that much."

"Sounds terrible," Hange said. She tore a clean corner off her napkin and scribbled her personal number onto it. She slid it over the table to him. "Text me."

Levi pulled a face at the piece of napkin. "Is that used? Gross, shitty four-eyes." He pocketed it anyway.

Hange didn't know what else to say. Levi didn't seem to either, and so he stood, and tucked his chair back in. Hange turned her eyes down to her empty plate. Her stomach and chest felt strange, almost sickly, but in an oddly pleasant way.

Levi rapped his knuckles on the table. Hange jumped, startled, and looked up at the sound.

"This part is on the record," he said. The corner of Levi's mouth quirked into a small, barely there grin. "I heard from a reliable source that Eren was so scared on the set of Last War that he pissed his pants. Twice."

#Levihan #snk #my writing #THIS ONE WAS SO FUN I would like to revisit this one day #I enjoyed their dynamic hehe

104 notes · View notes

cosmiclatte28 · 4 years

Text

Coffee (Jaemin x you)

warning : fluff! flirty Jaemin!

okay sorry for once again reusing a fic, this was from my Sehun collection which I actually find cute, but I guess Jaemin can fit in here nicely too!

enjoy!

“One ice Americano,” the angelic guy with ominous aura places his order, for a second the café suddenly feels frozen. He looks and sounds cold, but once he steps into the counter in front of you, you feel the blazing sun of summer, the cute shy smile, and a gentle stare.

“One Americano, no water? 6 shots of additional espresso” you question him even when you remember his order nicely in the back of your mind.

The man across you smiles, “You remember?”

You smirk, deep inside your heart you wonder how one could forget if that’s the only thing he orders in every single visit and no one else drink a coffee like him.

You take his card, swipe the bill, and rush to brew his cold coffee.

Ever since the cold and hot man enters that door last week, you quickly fell for his demeanour aura. You learn his name when he ordered his first cup of coffee in a bubble tea shop. Though you find it weird why he bought coffee when you guys are known for bubble teas, you did not reject his orders; you even wished with all your heart he will be a regular here.

“One ice Americano coffee to go, for Jaemin oppa,” you scream out his name, and when he walks to take the bag, your hand swiftly drops in a piece of cookie inside the paper bag. He saw you and almost say you misplaced an order, but your whisper silence him.

“It’s a complementary,” You panicked, “Special for the customer who has the queuing number 100.”

You see him smile and you hear your co-worker stifling a laugh.

“Thank you,” Jaemin smiles and nods his head as he takes his order, “Thank you, see you!”

He leaves the counter with his expressionless face and your shift continues. You take more orders from other customers.

One of your co-workers nudges you when the rush hour is over, and the café is a bit empty. “What was that, did you put in your number on the cookie earlier?” the man with a beautiful eye smile teases you.

You blush when your mind teases you back with the phrase Jaemin said before he left.

“Stop it Jeno, I did not drop my number in it. Seriously, I just wanted to treat him a cookie, what’s wrong with it?” You shrug your shoulder and choose to leave to take a short break. Well, secretly you scream out of joy when you reach the storage room. Jaemin, the man who creates butterflies in your stomach is slowly recognizing you.

The next day, your shift starts and as time ticks by, your heart beats faster as you expect the presence of Jaemin. He shows up in his regular time, with his regular expressionless handsome face just that today he looks a bit tired and annoyed. You pull up your textbook-smile and try your best to control your heating face.

“Welcome, is it another usual menu, or are you interested in trying todays special menu?” You flash a concern look to him. He catches your attention and runs his eyes through the menu. He sighs and inserts his hands into his pockets.

“Do you have any recommendation for a bad day?”

You nod in a second, “Are you okay with Chocolates?” he nods, you type in a menu and he seems to agree with what you call ‘House favorite chocolate bomb bubble tea’

Jaemin hands you his card and surprises you when he asks for a table number. He brings his number and sits on the corner, the secluded chair near the windows.

You are quite surprise; he never dines inside. With a question mark in your mind, you prepare his drink and once again sneak in another slice of red velvet cake. Jeno catches you again and smiles widely while wriggling his brow, “Go, and take that order to his table. Let me take over the cashier and orders.”

You thank him and after tidying your appearance, you deliver the drink and cake to the man sitting alone and lost in his thoughts.

“Here’s your drink, and I bring you a cake to cheer you up.” You move the drink and cake from your tray to his table.

Jaemin’s cold façade melts away when he sees the red cake and your sweet attention, “Wow! Am I the 100th customer again today?” He laughs at his own words. You feel like melting into a puddle right then and there.

He takes his time enjoying the cake and reviving his mood with your special brew, you are once again busy behind the counter and running over making different orders of drinks. You can still see Jaemin from several quick glances, and that is enough to make you energized until your shift end.

After 10 minutes, the tall man in suit fleets from his chair and queue into the line in front of me. You are perplexed when he shows up again with his shy smile, “I’m here to pay the red velvet and I want the cookies you gave me yesterday. I want two of them, all packed to go.” You swipe his payment only for the cookies, the red velvet is from you.

“For someone?” You ask when you take out two fresh baked cookies and wrap them nicely inside a bag.

Jaemin shakes his head, “It’s for me, and I’m working overnight today. The cookies will be my acquaintance tonight.”

“Have strength! Good luck,” you send him off with a wave of hand.

That’s the last time you ever see him. For a good one week, you never see his nose. Jeno teases you repeatedly for waiting and hoping like a fool, but you shush him off. One week feels like a month and the nosey customers really drain your energy.

One night when Renjun is already mopping the floor and you’re already turning over the chairs, the door opens and a young man in a tidy suit surprise both of you. Jeno glances at the door sign; it clearly is turned over already, why is he here.

“Sorry, are you closed already?” the man you missed for one week questions the two of you.

You quickly leave your current work and take over the counter, “No, we can make it work for you. We still have 5 minutes to the closing hour, but feel free to take your time.”

“Usual order?” You ask while turning on the brewer and cashier, Jaemin nods then take a seat at one of the tables you haven’t turn over.

Jeno bids you goodbye after his mopping is done, and you’re left alone with Jaemin.

“Please make yourself a drink, can you sit with me for a while tonight? Drinks are on me.” he sounds hopeful.

You take his invitation, making yourself a cup of warm coffee. You carry the dark liquids and a plate of cake from the storage.

You take your seat across him; he has his coat off already and he looks breath-taking in his white shirt and loosen tie. He is busy with his cold drink, and you preoccupied your nerves with the warm caffeine. Your heart is almost bursting out of joy, here in front of you the man you crushed, you finally get the chance to sit alone with him only. You don’t care what your boss will do to you if he ever finds out about this.

Jaemin picks the fork and pokes the cake, “What is this?”

You snap from your daydream, “Oh, that’s a new menu. A rainbow cake, were going to release them tomorrow.” He raises his brow in curiosity,

“Each colour has different flavour. Please try them.” You look at him expectantly when he takes the red part into his mouth. He savours the taste, munches, pokes into the next colour, tastes them and when he reaches the 7th colour, he finally makes his comment.

“Hmm it’s cool, a nice idea! It also tastes good. I am sure buying this again.” Jaemin’s eyes brighten and he gulps down his coffee to clean his palettes.

“(y/n),” Jaemin surprises you by calling your name. You almost ask where he learned your name, but you realize you wear name tags every day. “Thank you for opening the café for me and thank you for sitting here with me tonight.”

You shake your head and hands, “No, it’s not a problem Jaemin. Besides, I can probably help you if you need someone to talk and share stories too. Only if you’re willing too,” You panicked.

Jaemin thinks for a quick second and smirk, “You’re probably right. I need to share what’s bothering my mind. Great idea!”

It sure is a great idea for Jaemin, but not for you. Jaemin has just finished his story about his breakup with his so-called girlfriend he loved dearly. You are surprised to find out he has been dating for one year and got dumped last week, because poor Jaemin caught her kissing another man in the park. She chose the other guy over him. Jaemin concludes that he’s now traumatized, and he will be staying away from falling in love for a moment. He is hurt, and he doesn’t want to fall in love now.

You made a mental note about this and continue to talk about more things. As the night deepens, the cake vanished, and the coffees finished, you learn each other’s hobbies and favourite singers.

Jaemin helps you clean up the table and turning over the chair. He drops in extra tips into the jar, then he waits for you outside as you turn off all the machines, lights, and lock the door.

“Thank you for listening to me tonight,” Jaemin bashfully looks into his shoes.

“It’s nothing big, I’m happy if you’re feeling better now. So, good night Jaemin,” you wave your hand to him when your bus arrives. He waves his hand back at you and descends into his car.

After that night, you remember his words where he did not want to fall in love yet. That morning, you ensure your heart that the feeling must stop. You ask Jeno to switch with you and take over the cashier. You choose to work in the kitchen with your other co-worker, Renjun. You’re not going to fall more into Jaemin, no you need to stop before you hurt yourself.

You tell Renjun why you’re here now and the cheerful man just pats your back, “Aw, you’re burying a feeling. It’s okay you still have me and Renjun. We’re both still free and available for blind dates.” He winks and succeeds in cheering you up.

Weeks passed by, you work in nice union with Renjun baking cakes, and preparing bobas. Your life is bright again even without seeing Jaemin, until one day Jeno barges into the kitchen and smirks, “(y/n), he’s here and he wants to see you. I can’t hold it anymore; I’ve been telling him lies that you’re not here anymore but turns out he saw you and he wants to see you!” today.

“Who?” Renjun asks

You freeze in your place, is it really the same man you’re thinking of?

Jeno sees your reaction, “You want me to shoo him off?”

You shake your head, Jeno suddenly remembers something, “Ah yeah, he told me to tell you this. He’s ready to try it again. I don’t know what he means but he told me to deliver that message to you.” Your eyes widen and you turn your body to exit the kitchen door, leaving the two men puzzled.

You quickly run your eyes through the customers inside the small café, but he’s not there. Your eyes catch him leaving the door with a glass of Americano in his right hand and a small pack of cookies on his left.

You did not meet him yet, but you know when you will see him again.

That’s right, tomorrow.

The last rays of sun lights are slowly fading off, the sky is beautifully painted orange and purple. You tighten the apron over your waist and with the textbook smile you’re taking in orders and payments once again.

“Good afternoon, what can I help you with? Maybe a special menu today? Rainbow bubble tea made especially for you.” You wink at the man in front of your cashier counter.

He chuckles, “I’d take that as a yes, if you’re going to sit with me in that table at the corner.”

You blush and punch in his order, “That means you’re having Americano today, because I am not free until my shift ends at 9.”

He glances at his watch, “Three hours is nothing compared to a week. Please add a slice of rainbow cake too! I am waiting for my date until 9 tonight.” He offers you his deadly smile, and you cannot feel your legs.

Jeno and Renjun heard everything, when Jaemin goes away to his chair; the two men take their cue to mess with you.

“What do you want for a drink? Let me prepare it for you.” Jeno takes over the cup in my hand and makes the order.

“Of course, strawberry boba, right?” Renjun winks and walks to take a slice of rainbow cake and cheesecake.

“You love my cheesecakes, right? Now, go sit with him and we will take over your part.” Renjun unties your apron and pushes you to Jaemin’s table direction.

What? you’re surprised with the sudden situation.

“Go get your love, good luck!” the two men unite and push you into his direction. Jaemin turns his head and sees you walking to him. He smiles and gets up to pull out your chair.

“Guess this is it, I don’t have to wait for three hours by myself, and my date is here already.”

fin.

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mintyminyoongi · 4 years

Text

Idiots

Pairing: Min Yoongi x ReaderRating: T

Word Count: 7.8k

Trigger warnings: None

Summary: Imagine you love Yoongi and Yoongi loves you but you’re both idiots and can’t say it. Or better yet, read about it.

Normally, when your phone starts ringing at 2:00 AM, you would curse the living daylights out of the person on the other end of the line. Maybe ask them if they were raised by barbarians or looking to get fully throttled.

But when you finish grumbling curses under your breath and crack an eye open to look at your screen, you can’t help the way your heart flops over a little. Yoongi. You swipe your thumb across the screen to answer before it goes to voicemail.

“You better be dead or dying,” you groan into the receiver.

You hear him curse under his breath and some fumbling around. “I, um, am not dying. Coincidentally. I forgot to check the time again.”

His low, drawling voice sends a shiver down your spine, as always. “Yeah, you did.” You find yourself chuckling, despite your initial anger.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “You were sleeping?”

You laugh fully this time. “Yeah Yoongi, I was sleeping. Like most people do at two in the morning on a Wednesday.”

“Ugh, sorry Y/N.” He sighs into the phone.

You frown and roll in your sheets, sitting up fully. “Hey, you okay? It’s been a while since you’ve spaced on time like this.”

About three years ago, you met Yoongi. You’d just graduated from university and had been able to get an internship at a tech start up in Seoul. It was shit pay and crazy hours but you loved the work.

You had met Yoongi in a cafe, late one night. Officially, you were off the clock but you had taken your laptop with you to try and catch up on some of your assignments. The cafe was close to your apartment, open late and had cheap, strong coffee.

Yoongi had been set up at one of the far tables, feline eyes droopy despite the numerous coffee cups littering his table. He had a fancy set of headphones on and his bleached blonde hair had dark roots growing in.

The cafe was busy, even during this time of night so you took one of the last empty tables near him. You tried to get work done, honestly. But between your sleep deprivation, over caffeination and this gorgeous boy sitting a table away, it was difficult.

So he naturally caught you staring at him. And your best way to save face was to point dumbly at your own ear. His brow furrowed but he pushed one headphone off his ear anyway.

“Sorry, just... I could hear your music through the headphones. It’s a little distracting.” It wasn’t, you could barely hear it over the other cafe noises. “Also, it’s bad for your hearing. To play music that loud.”

You wanted to disappear. Like wholly, from this plane of existence and any others that were out there.

But he just looks at you with an amused, crooked smile.

You didn’t know at the time that Yoongi was a successful rapper. He went by the name Agust D, and had just gotten back from his first tour after the release of his mixtape.

And the formation of your friendship went just like that. He needed a friend that didn’t care about his fame or his reputation. And you just needed a friend.

So what if you thought he was incredibly hot and talented and funny… Yoongi had never shown you any interest, romantically. And that was fine with you. His friendship meant the world to you.

Anyway, Yoongi wasn’t the best at taking care of himself. So when he calls you in the middle of the night, it’s almost always because he’s been locked in his studio all day and has lost all sense of time.

He sighs, not answering you right away. “I’m okay. Just- stuck on a song.”

You furrow your brow. “When did you eat last?”

A beat of silence. “Um.”

“Yoongi.” You bite your tongue to hold back the full lecture. “How about sleep?”

An even longer pause. “I took a nap this afternoon,” he says. “Or wait. What day is it?”

“Alright, that’s enough. Go home. Take a shower, sleep in an actual bed. You’re not doing yourself any favors running on fumes.”

“I know.”

“Nope, not buying it. I wanna hear you leave the studio.”

“Woman,” he sighs under his breath. “Fine.”

You can hear him shutting down the programs on his computer, almost feeling the way he’s making mental notes of where to pick up in the morning.

“So, which song is giving you trouble?”

Yoongi starts to describe the track, how he wants a syncopated rhythm but it’s not hitting right. He muses all the way during his walk home about different things he can try.

You curl back up into bed, just listening to him and giving what little insight you could. It kind of pained you to admit how much just the sound of his voice affected you.

Before long, you hear his front chime open. “Okay, I’m home.” You hope you were imagining just how exhausted he was. Even though you know you weren’t.

“Good. Please take care of yourself, Yoongi. You’re starting to give me gray hairs.”

Yoongi just huffs into the phone. “Thank you, Y/N. I am sorry for waking you up. Tomorrow’s your big presentation right?”

“It’s okay,” you say. “Yeah, it's at nine. So like,” you wince as you look at your screen. “Six hours.”

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath. “I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine, Yoongi. Honestly. I’m used to running on no energy and all coffee.”

You could tell he didn’t feel better with that answer. “We're still on for movie night on Friday?”

“Yes please. I’ve been killing myself trying to avoid spoiler alerts.”

“Okay, great. I’ll bring snacks to make it up to you.”

You thought about protesting but knew it would be pointless. “That sounds like a fabulous idea. Now go get some sleep! And when you eat in the morning, it needs to be something that doesn’t come out of a plastic package, you hear me?”

“Aish, woman, let me live,” he gripes but you know him well enough that you can practically picture the smile on his face. “See you Friday. Good luck with the presentation, you’re gonna kill it.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.” You hang up and have to force yourself back to sleep, always getting a bit of a high from talking to him.

On Friday night, you were running around your apartment like a mad woman, trying to get it clean before Yoongi shows up. Even though he was terrible with the concept of time, he was never late to your movie nights.

You had stayed late at work talking to your boss about your presentation from the day before. So when Yoongi showed up at your door right on time you were still in your work clothes, hair a mess.

“Hi, come in. What the-” Your eyes practically bulge out of your head when you see how many bags he’s carrying.

“I said I would bring snacks,” he says sheepishly, cheeks tinted a dusty pink.

“Yoongi, this is like a whole store.”

He sets the bags down on your kitchen counter. “I felt bad about waking you up.”

You shove his arm, eyes widening further as he starts unbagging everything. “I told you it was fine, you dope! This is way too much food.”

Just as he opens his mouth your doorbell rings. Yoongi looks at you guiltily, a bag of your favorite chips in his hand.

“I may have also ordered pizza from that place you like.”

You wanted to smack him and kiss him in the same instant. That pizza was the perfect way to end a long, stressful week. “Well, you answer the door. I’m going to change clothes.”

In your room, you quickly change into sweats and a t-shirt. You fix your hair into a normal, less insane ponytail and make your way back into the kitchen.

You find Yoongi staring at you as you drop your hands from your hair. “What?”

He coughs, looking down. “Nothing. The food’s all ready.”

You frown a little but leave it. Then you see the three pizza boxes sitting on the counter. “Min Yoongi you did not order three pizzas and buy all these snacks.”

He squawks a little, unable to form words for a second. “Will you just take my apology already?”

Your heart seizes a little at his sincerity and you try not to read into it. “Fine. Apology accepted.” You cross your way into the kitchen, grabbing some plates out of the cabinet.

“How did your presentation go, by the way?”

“Oh my god it went great, Yoongi! My boss loved the idea of an integrated software, and he gave me the lead on it.” You turn to see him watching you attentively, a proud smile on his face.

“And this is the first time you’ve been the lead, right?”

“Yeah, at least one of this size. It’s gonna be a lot of work but I’m really excited.”

Once again, Yoongi gives you this unreadable look. His gaze makes you feel squirmy so you hand him a plate. “Well I’m proud of you, Y/N. You’ve really made a name for yourself at that company.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.” You cracked open the first pizza box and could’ve started drooling. “Oh my god, this smells amazing.”

When you’re thoroughly surrounded on the couch with more pizza, snacks and wine than any two people could need, you start the movie.

You and Yoongi had started making movie nights a habit about a year ago. Every month you both find time to make it work. It was kind of your favorite thing but you wouldn’t tell him that.

You really were trying to reign in your feelings for him. It didn’t seem fair, when Yoongi was only looking for platonic companionship. So you keep respectable inches between the two of you as you queued up the movie.

Yoongi gave you a judgy look at the moan you let out around your first bite of pizza but a swift elbow to the ribs made him look away.

The movie was pretty good, it was a slasher movie that came out earlier in the year. You watched with your mouth hung open in disbelief as the killer rose from the dead for the third time and snuck up on the lead actress.

“Oh, come on, they can’t be serious.” You lean forward on the couch cushion, thoroughly enveloped in the plotline. As the killer brandishes a kitchen knife and raises it above his head, your reflex is to smack Yoongi in the arm.

“Why doesn’t she just turn around?” you demand. “The house is like 800 years old the floorboards are creaking louder than your snoring.”

You can feel Yoongi look at you in offense. “First you hit me then you insult me?”

The girl on the screen eventually turns around and a chase ensues. You turn to Yoongi. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you. I just get so wound up at these movies.”

“Oh, but you meant to insult me?” He says, an eyebrow raised.

Damn, he looks good sprawled out on your couch. The thought comes unbidden. You bring yourself back to the present, to the sound of screaming and shrill horror music in the background. The present with Yoongi sitting on your couch.

“Yeah, I mean have you heard your snoring?”

“When have you heard me snore?” he demands.

You turn to face him on the couch, the movie forgotten for the moment. “Like three months ago, when you showed up at my door, completely wasted. You stumbled around my apartment for twenty minutes and then you passed out on the couch. You snored. All night.”

Yoongi looks at you with his mouth hung open, speechless. He shakes his head, seeming to snap out of it. “I completely forgot about that night.”

“Yeah, it was after some event at your label. You showed up smelling like cheap perfume and whiskey, barely able to stand up straight. I gave Namjoon an earful the next day for letting you get that drunk.”

Yoongi scoffs, suddenly finding the hole in the knee of his jeans very interesting. “He didn’t let me do anything. I can be pretty stubborn when it comes to that stuff.”

You nod, not understanding where the uneasy mood came from. “That’s pretty much what he told me. He said that you showed up to the event pissed off, that you were an asshole the whole night and he couldn’t keep you in check.”

“Yeah I wasn’t myself that night.”

He still wouldn’t look at you.

“I remember,” you say. “I’d never seen you that far gone before. Namjoon said he hadn’t either.”

Yoongi stays silent. For long enough that you started to turn back to the TV screen, not wanting to push him.

Truthfully, that night had kind of scared you. He had been almost incoherent when you let him in. Yoongi was a fan of a good whiskey but he usually didn’t get that drunk, let alone wasted like that. You hadn’t known what to do so you kind of just stood back as Yoongi mumbled to himself, shucking his jacket and boots before falling onto the couch and passing out.

He says something under his breath and even though you were right next to him you didn’t catch it. You wince as a bloodcurdling scream comes from the TV screen. He doesn’t even seem to notice it.

“What did you say?” You ask him, scooting a little closer.

Again, he stays quiet. At which point you’re starting to get annoyed, so you let out a huff and flop back against the couch cushion.

“You had a date that night.”

You stare uncomprehendingly at the gory scene on the TV before looking at him. “What?”

He had turned his gaze to you, but not in your eyes. He’s looking somewhere around your shoulder, you think.

Yoongi runs his tongue over his teeth before answering you. “That night, you had a date with some guy from your office.”

You think back, remember that you’d had a date with Minho. He was in the advertising department of your company. He had a really cute smile and loved cats so you thought you’d give him a chance.

You thought if you just actively started dating that you would get over your stupid crush on Yoongi faster.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work.

Even though Minho was attractive, and he had really funny stories you only found yourself thinking about Yoongi all night. The date had ended when he walked you to your door, and kissed your cheek. You told him it had been a nice night but you didn’t think you saw him as more than a friend. Things had been awkward around the office for a few days but he took it graciously and you two are friends now.

Yoongi had shown up not long after you’d gotten back. You were still in your dress, heels kicked off by the door. You remember now, he had given you a once over and scoffed before stepping past you into the apartment. Before you’d gone on the date, you’d told Yoongi about it. You thought maybe if he hyped you up it would help you be more excited for it.

Instead, he just said “have fun” and didn’t speak to you for the rest of the night. Until he showed up at your door, so drunk he couldn’t stand straight.

He never asked about the date, you didn’t think he even remembered it. He certainly didn’t seem like he cared about it at the time.

Belatedly, you realize the end credits are rolling on the screen.

And Yoongi is staring at you. Not at your shoulder or somewhere in the vicinity. Right at you.

“Yoongi…” You say, because you didn’t know what else to say.

He gulps down the rest of his wine and turns to face you fully. “I-I didn’t have the right to be jealous but I was. Of him. So I went to that stupid fundraising event and focused on the free drinks and the easy women. And ended up here anyway.”

You swallowed thickly, trying not to overthink what he was saying. “You were jealous?” The words are strained as you say them. Your hands curled into fists because the bite of your nails in your palms helps to ground you.

Yoongi leans in a little, sucks in a quick breath. He opens his mouth to speak just as the movie kicks back to the main menu, the title music blaring through the speakers.

You jump reflexively. You didn’t realize how close you’d gotten to him, your face barely a few inches from his. So close you can see his pupils dilate, can smell the sweet red wine on his breath.

And just like that, Yoongi seems to snap out of something. He stands from the couch and picks up your dirty plates and wine glasses. He’s already in the kitchen, loading the dishes in the washer when you feel yourself snap back into reality.

What the hell was that?

You were pretty sure you weren’t misreading things. He was jealous that you were dating other people. Well, had dated other people. Honestly you were tired of the whole song and dance. You hadn’t been on a date since Minho. When the right guy came along, you would try again. But you hadn’t found anyone that could hold a candle to Yoongi. And you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time.

But… why was Yoongi jealous? He was famous, had tons of beautiful idols and models and actresses he could pick from. Maybe he was just jealous of having a normal dating life.

Either way when you shuffle into the kitchen with the bowls of snacks, you couldn’t ignore the tension in Yoongi’s shoulders. The dishes were all loaded but he stood at the sink, clutching the edge of the counter.

“Yoongi.” This was new for you. You’d never felt uncertain around him before. Maybe shy, when you caught yourself thinking about his adorable smile or strong hands. But never uncertain.

He cleared his throat and turned abruptly. “I forgot I have an early morning tomorrow. I should get going.”

You frown, not wanting to leave things in this weird state. You follow him to the door where he’s pulling on his coat. “Yoongi,” you try again.

He falters, head hanging low.

“Will you just tell me what’s bothering you?” You finally demand.

Yoongi turns swiftly, pulling you close to him by your waist. He leans his forehead against yours and you suck in a breath, gasping it out at his proximity. Usually you’re the one initiating the contact, little side hugs or poking his cheeks when he’s grumpy. You always tease him about his fear of intimacy.

He huffs out a breath and closes his eyes. His hands tighten their grip on your waist.

You let him hold you. Part of you can tell he somehow needs this. You wonder if he can feel how heavily your heart is beating inside your chest. It feels thunderous to you.

Yoongi shifts, turning his face into your neck. You feel yourself relax a bit. This feels more familiar, closer to the hugs you’ve shared before. You allow yourself to wrap your arms around him, hoping to bring him some comfort.

“Don’t date anyone else.”

The words are soft, spoken against the skin of your neck. But you hear them perfectly. And your heart skips a beat all the same. “Yoongi-”

He moves, pulling his face from the crook of your neck. It takes him a minute to bring his eyes up to meet yours. And it almost seems to pain him when he croaks out “Please, Y/N.”

One of your hands seems to have its own mind as it combs through the hair at the back of his neck. His eyes close a little as he waits for your answer. “Okay,” you whisper.

His sharp gaze snaps up to yours and it takes you aback. Your hormone addled brain thinks that he’s going to kiss you. And it really seems like he’s going to. He moves one of his hands from your waist to cradle your face in his palm.

You lick your lips subconsciously and Yoongi’s eyes dart down to watch the action. And then something happens in his brain because he’s letting you go and backing away. “I should go,” he mutters as he pulls a mask from his coat.

Something about his tone is final. You don’t want to push it or question him. He turns back to you when he’s out in the hallway. “I’ll call you later.”

You nod, thoroughly overwhelmed and incapable of forming a response. And then he’s gone. And you close the door and have to ask yourself if you didn’t just dream the whole thing.

You were slammed at work the next week, trying to get the initial details of your new project hammered out. And maybe the lack of communication from Yoongi encouraged you to throw yourself headfirst into the work. Because you really didn’t want to stop and think about what your conversation that night had meant.

‘Don’t date anyone else’? That could really only mean one thing, right? If he didn’t want you dating anyone else it was so you could be with him. Right?

Or maybe he just meant he didn’t want you dating the wrong guys, to protect you or whatever. As if he could know that Minho or any of the other guys you’d dated were “wrong”.

And this whirling blackhole of a thought process is exactly why you’d been staying late every night this week.

The sun had been down for hours when you finally left your office building. You’re on the subway home when Yoongi calls you. Your eyes widen and you feel your heart stutter a bit when you see his name on the screen.

When you answer the phone you immediately hold the receiver away from your ear, the speaker blasting music and overlapping chatter from a crowd. “Yoongi?”

You think you can hear him saying something in the background. After a few moments you hang up. He must’ve called accidentally. And you have to kick yourself for getting so excited.

He’s out at a club or a concert, judging by the noise. It could be for work or for pleasure. Either way, he’s out with people and probably other girls-

You have to stop yourself. He’s not yours.

You get through the train ride and the walk home with a set jaw. This was exhausting. This weird, in-between thing was way worse than just suppressing your feelings altogether.

It was a little after 10:00 when he started texting you. You’d just finished eating a bowl of instant noodles over the sink when you see it. And from the first text you could tell he was drunk.

10:11 Yoongi: I MISs you

10:15 Yoongi: Y/N

10:15 Yoongi: This palace sucks

10:19 Yoongi: wis

10:19 Yoongi: I wish

10:20 Yoongi: Wish yu were hr

10:23 Y/N: Yoongi, you’re drunk. Text me when you’re sober.

Not long after your message he tries calling again. It pains you to do it but you let it go to voicemail. Nothing he says right now is going to keep you from combusting.

So you try to occupy yourself with a few episodes of trashy reality TV until you think you’re tired enough to go to bed. Yoongi hadn’t texted or called again. You hoped it was because he went home. Your brain strayed to some other girl catching his attention at whatever club he was at. Imagined her taking his mind off of you and his phone.

You bite your lip to stem off the ridiculous tears that spring into your eyes at the thought. He’s not yours, you remind yourself again.

The incredibly overwhelming sense of deja vu hits you when your ringing phone wakes you in the early hours of the morning. Yoongi’s face is on your screen. Maybe it’s because your brain is more than half asleep or because part of you is desperate to know if he went home alone that you answer the call.

You were grateful that you didn’t immediately hear the noise of pounding bass and drunk people in the background. But you do hear traffic noise, lots of it.

“Yoongi?”

“Y/N, what time is it?” His voice is still heavy with alcohol and you wince.

“It’s like one in the morning, Yoongi. Where are you?”

“Fuck. I told you I wouldn’t call you like this again.” He mumbles and you can imagine his lips forming that adorable pout. You have to shake your head out of that thought process when you hear a car horn too close for comfort.

“Yoongi, listen to me. Where are you? Are you safe?”

There’s a moment of silence as you imagine him looking around. “I’m- near the um, that corner store where you spilled soda all over me that one time. ‘member?”

“Yeah, I remember. Yoongi, can you get yourself a ride? You should go home and sleep this off.”

He continues talking, as if he didn’t hear you. And maybe he didn’t. He sounded just like that night, months ago. Who knows how much he’s had to drink. “You were so… so flustered and I-I remember you asking me how much my shirt cost because you were worried you wouldn’t be able to pay me back. And I told you it was just a regular t-shirt but really it cost $300 and I never told you that. And you were so cute. You were stuttering, and your cheeks were so red.”

“You- you kept trying to clean me up and everyone in the store was staring. I kind of realized then that you were maybe the cutest girl I had ever seen. Like, the cutest. But I didn’t… I didn’t know how to say that. Because I don’t like people and there are very few that I choose to spend time around.”

While (a very large) part of you loved this confession, you know it didn’t count. He was so incredibly drunk and would probably not remember any of this in the morning. And since you couldn’t see him, all your brain can imagine is that he’s about to stumble into traffic at any moment.

“Yoongi please. I need you to put me on speaker while you get yourself a taxi. I need to know you’re safe.”

He cuts himself off. All of a sudden the traffic noise is much louder so he must’ve put you on speaker. He grumbles as he’s tapping through the app. “Y/N thank you for taking such good care of me.”

“You’re welcome, Yoongi.” Your voice comes out whisper-soft and he might not have heard you over the rushing cars,

He must take you off speaker because he’s easier to hear again. “Says it should be here in ten minutes.”

You exhale, not even realizing how worried you had been. “Okay, good.”

“You interrupted me, you know.” Again, you can picture the pout on his face so clearly.

You chuckle a little, leaning back against your headboard. “You’re right I did.”

“Where was I?” You notice his Daegu accent is slipping in the more he talks. You wish it didn’t affect you as much as it did. “Oh, that people suck. Not you though, Y/N. You don’t suck and I’ve been scared to tell you that because I love our friendship. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

Your heart flutters. You try to keep reminding yourself not to read too much into this. He’s drunk and has never said anything along these lines when he’s sober. He’s had all the opportunity. But maybe you’re a masochist because you ask. “Fuck what up, Yoongi?”

He sighs. “I hate that I’ve never had the guts to say any of this to you sober. I’m such a coward, Y/N.”

As if you somehow know what he’s going to say, you try to stop him. “Yoongi, wait.”

“I love you, Y/N. I’m fucking stupid because I love you and I can’t even say it to your face.”

Tears sting into your eyes because this feels so surreal and it almost physically pains you to hear the words you’ve been dreaming about for so long.

You think you hear him getting into the cab when a car door slams shut and the traffic noise is much more muffled. “I fucking love you, Y/N,” he sighs happily, like he’s glad to have it off his chest.

You have to steel yourself because you can feel your brain slipping into La La Land. “Yoongi, you are drunk. Hang up and call me when you’re sober.”

He chuckles a little. “So bossy. Just because I’m hanging up, doesn’t mean I’ll forget that I love you,” he croons.

“Christ,” you mutter under your breath and hang up.

You flop against your pillows and try to calm your racing heart. What. The. Fuck.

In all of your fantasies about Yoongi you had never let yourself imagine he would say those words to you. It was too painful.

It was painful even now. Until you could talk to Yoongi face to face, you couldn’t know what he meant, if he meant any of it at all. So you were reminding yourself of this, to keep yourself sane as you lay spread eagle on your bed. Wondering what you did in your past life to deserve this kind of emotional turmoil.

When there’s a knock on your door. And a very drunk Yoongi calling your name through the cheap wood.

You run to the door to let him in before he wakes up any of your nosy neighbors. When you open the door, Yoongi almost falls across the threshold. You reach out on instinct to steady him and close the door promptly behind him.

“Would you shut up?” you hiss.

As he straightens and sees you, he gets this lazy smile on his face.

You decide to speak first and cut off whatever thought process he had. “What are you doing here?”

Yoongi pouts and rubs a thumb across your cheek. “I missed you.”

“You were supposed to go home Yoongi.”

“Didn’t want to,” he shrugs.

You sigh, knowing you didn’t have the heart to kick him out when he was like this. “Fine. Will you at least take a shower before you crash? You stink.”

“You just want me naked,” he says, waggling his eyebrows at you.

Instead of answering him, you turn to your room to get him a change of clothes. If he were anyone else, if he hadn’t just told he loved you- this would be hilarious. You would never let Yoongi live this down.

But it wasn’t someone else. It was Yoongi. And not only had he told you he loved you, it seems like he already forgot about it. He was so unaware of the spiral you were in it was painful.

He was struggling with his boots when you made your way back into the living room. You swallow back the lump in your throat as you kneel in front of him.

You nudge his hands away and make quick work of the laces.

“Y/N.” When you look up, you’re struck with the clarity in his gaze. You’re not sure what changed in the time it took you to get him some clothes but the flirty Yoongi was gone.

His eyes were still dropping and he was a little sideways on your couch but he seemed more like Yoongi again.

“What?” you ask and wince when your voice cracks.

“I meant it.”

Your eyes close and you sit back on your heels to give yourself some distance. “Yoongi, please.”

He doesn’t say anything more and when you finally open your eyes again, he’s running a hand over his face. “Okay,” he sighs. Then he grabs the clothes from off the floor and disappears into the bathroom.

How did things get so complicated so quickly?

This was exactly the kind of situation you were hoping to avoid all these years. You roughly wipe your eyes to stop any tears from falling before getting to your feet.

You hear the shower turn on as you make up the couch, tucking sheets into the cushion and bringing out extra pillows. And then you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your first instinct is to go close yourself in your room and not come out until he’s gone in the morning.

You knew you could never do that though. You’d never been good at ignoring Yoongi. It was unclear if other people experienced this kind of magnetism towards him, but you were hopeless.

Because of the war going on in your brain, you were still sitting on the couch when Yoongi walked back down the hallway. And - in a word - oof.

The clothes were his, some you’d stolen a long time ago but he’d put on a muscle since then so the shirt was a little tight. His damp hair hung a little longer, hanging into his eyes a little bit.

The shower seemed to do him some good, he looked a little more alert. More himself.

You watch him warily and tuck your knees into your chest. He takes a seat opposite you on the coffee table. Then you two sit there, not looking at and not talking to each other.

Then Yoongi heaves a heavy sigh and you dare to look at him. “Y/N…” He doesn’t seem to have more to say than that.

You turn to look at him. “Yoongi, I’m exhausted. Can we talk in the morning?”

He nods, shoulders sagging. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.”

You shoot up from the couch, ready to get out of this tense atmosphere. “I brought out sheets and blankets. And there’s a stack of pillows there. If you need anything else, you know where everything is.”

“Y/N.” Yoongi’s hand reaches out, maybe to stop you or grab you. You just dart a few paces away. You had no resolve left and you were pretty sure if he touched you at this point that would just crumble.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Yoongi.”

His sighs and it ruffles your hair, sends a shiver down your back. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

The next morning, as the sun shone brightly through your curtains, you were praying for a sinkhole to open underneath your apartment building and swallow you whole. Or maybe like a stray asteroid could come in through your window. Less casualties that way. Anything to get you out of this conversation with Yoongi.

You hadn’t slept all night, trying to decode Yoongi’s words and your own feelings. You’d been squashing them down for so long, trying to make them as small and inconsequential as possible.

It was sometime after the sky started to turn pink that you truly allowed yourself to accept how much you love Min Yoongi. How much you always have.

For as long as you can remember, you have cherished every moment with him. Your movie nights. When you could bring your laptop to his studio and listen to him produce music while you worked. Getting late night coffees at the same cafe you first met.

The list goes on.

Now it was just a matter of figuring out if Yoongi really did… love you. You know that saying “drunk words are sober thoughts.” And maybe it was true in this case. But what if he just meant he loved you as a friend?

Really, it wasn’t that far fetched. You have never met a more emotionally guarded person than Yoongi. He didn’t even want to admit to being friends until after you threatened to send a video of him dressed up as his female counterpart “Yoonji” to Dispatch.

In short, you were getting nowhere fast. Which is why you finally kicked yourself out from under your sheets to make some coffee. Coffee always helps right?

A quick peek into the living room and you can see Yoongi curled up on the couch, still out.

You tiptoe past him and into the kitchen. You start to brew a pot of coffee and let the comforting smell wash over you. It seemed to rouse Yoongi as well. Over the back of the couch you see him stretch his arms, groaning as he does it.

You pour two mugs of coffee and give him time to fully wake up.

He shuffles into the kitchen, one eye cracked open and trying to smooth his hair down with his hands. “Morning,” he mumbles.

You wordlessly hand him a mug of plain black coffee. He hums gratefully and takes a large gulp.

Not for the first time you internally coo at his early-morning grumpiness. His eyes are puffy and his hair is sticking up in multiple directions despite his efforts. You sip your own coffee and try to figure out how to start this conversation.

Yoongi leans against the opposite of the island counter and looks at you over the rim of his mug. “So.”

“So,” you agree. And then leap into it. “You remember everything you said last night?”

He takes another large gulp of his coffee before setting the mug down. “I do.”

You lean your elbows down on the counter and grip onto your mug with both hands to have something to ground you. “Okay.”

Yoongi looks at you, eyes wary. You can’t look at him, can’t be the one that says something that ruins this friendship.

“Y/N… can we just forget it?”

Your eyes fall closed. You wonder at the same time if it’s possible for your heart to fall out of place in your chest because it no longer feels like it’s there. “Yeah,” you force out of your vocal chords. “Let’s forget it.”

“I just- it was wrong for me to say those things. To you. While I was so… out of it.” Yoongi sighs. “Will you look at me? Please?”

He’s staring at you, fully awake now. His gaze is imploring, like his words are saying one thing but his eyes are trying to tell you something else.

“Y/N, your friendship is one of the most important things in my life. You found me when I was in a shitty place and couldn’t find any real people to be around. Everyone wanted to know Agust D, they didn’t give a fuck about me. I can’t lose that, I can’t lose you-”

You take another drink from your mug to distract you and to hopefully hide the tears building in your eyes. This was the most likely scenario, you knew that. But you had still allowed yourself to hope for the best.

“I get it Yoongi. You love me, as a friend.”

He makes this noise in the back of his throat and comes around the island towards you.

On instinct you back away, trying to keep the distance. You throw your hands up when your back hits the counter behind you. “Yoongi, please don’t-”

He immediately stops a few feet away from you. “This is exactly what I didn’t want,” he says, voice breaking a little on the last words. “I didn’t want to upset you.”

You realize that the tears in your eyes have fallen so you wipe them away hastily. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Yoongi frowns, “You’re crying so it’s not fine.” He looks at you with such concern that it hurts. Like he would do anything to fix it if he could.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” you say weakly.

“Like what?”

You are exhausted, mentally and physically. So your filter is gone. And you blurt, “If we’re going to be just friends, I can live with that but that means you can’t look at me like that. Like you love me more than that.”

Yoongi just looks at you, jaw slack. “Let me be perfectly clear, Y/N. If we’re going to be just friends I am going to be the one living with it. Because…” he sighs and closes his eyes, as if to collect himself. “Because I do love you more than that.”

If your heart hadn’t fallen out of place earlier it certainly did in that moment. “What?” you squeak.

He takes a cautious step towards you. “Last night, I meant everything I said. I’ve never been brave enough to say it to your face, but I have been in love with you for the better part of three years. It wasn’t fair of me to say all of that to you or to show up here and have you take care of me. And I mean it, we can be friends. Because I’d rather be friends than nothing at all. But since we’re here I might as well get it all off my chest, even if it means I never mention it again. At least that way I can finally breathe again.”

Your chest heaves with panicked breaths as you absorb everything he just said. This time there wasn’t any way to misconstrue his words. No doubt about the meaning. Yoongi had just laid himself bare in front of you.

“Idiots,” you mutter.

Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot up past his hairline. “What?”

“We are idiots,” you say and a somewhat manic laugh slips its way past your lips. When you see the hurt cross his face, you step closer and clap a hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, Yoongi.”

He pulls back a step and the action sobers you immediately. “We are both complete idiots, Yoongi. Because I’ve never been brave enough either. Brave enough to tell you that you are what kept me sane during my intern year. That getting to see you is the best part of my day. And I’ve never told you I love you because I was terrified of you not feeling the same way.”

“Idiots,” he muses. Yoongi looks at you, eyes darting everywhere as if looking for the lie. His lips slowly curl into a smile when he doesn’t seem to find one. He closes the gap between you, cradling your face in his hands.

When he presses his lips to yours, it’s gentle. The tenderness makes your eyes slip shut, makes every time you’ve ever dreamt about this in the past pale in comparison. You could never have imagined how perfect it would feel when his hands roam the planes of your body, wrap around your waist and pull you flush against him.

The closeness has you overwhelmed, whimpering into his mouth. You find yourself craving even more contact, pull yourself infinitesimally closer by wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

Yoongi pushes against you, making you stumble back a few steps until you hit the counter. Without missing a beat, his hands move from your waist down to your thighs. He grips the flesh there and hoists you up onto the countertop.

You gasp at the lift, legs wrapping around his hips for anchorage. Yoongi takes advantage and licks his way into your open mouth. You let him take the lead, feeling wholly overwhelmed by the way he kisses you. Your fingers thread in his hair, tugging on the roots when the sensations become too much.

Yoongi groans, pressing his lips harder to yours for another second before pulling away. He immediately presses another chaste kiss to your lips before leaning his forehead on yours.

You don’t open your eyes right away, almost afraid he won’t be there when you open them.

“Y/N,” he whispers. Your heart flops over, probably somewhere down near your appendix at this point. “We really are idiots.”

You smile, finally looking back at him. You tighten your legs around him, your body’s way of telling him he wasn’t allowed to go anywhere. Yoongi’s eyes slip shut as he lets out a hiss. “Woman, you’ve gotta stop doing that.”

“Why?” you smirk.

“Because all I’ve thought about for years is being able to love you like I want to. I want to love you in every way you deserve to be loved. But I also haven’t slept in days. I haven’t slept a full night since I was here last, for movie night. If you keep doing that I’m going to take you right here and it won’t be my A game.” He kisses you slowly, making your toes curl in. “I want to give you my A game.”

You smile fondly at the rant but relent, dropping your legs to either side of his hips. Your fingertips trace the shadows under his eyes “I haven’t slept well either. Since that night.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispers, slumping into you.

“Don’t be,” you say as you comb your fingers through his hair. “How about a nap? Because I too want nothing less than your A game.”

Yoongi straightens and glares at you. You put a hand on his chest and push lightly. He backs up enough for you to hop down from the counter. You take one of his hands in yours, taking a second to appreciate how easily they fit together.

“What, you’re not going to make me sleep on the couch again?” Yoongi says as you lead him to your room.

“I’m still not fully convinced this is all real.” You turn and pull him close again. “Until I am I need you to stay close to me. So no more couch.”

Yoongi smiles softly. “I can do that.” He kisses your forehead sweetly.

He audibly groans as he climbs into your bed beside you. You roll your eyes at him. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“You try sleeping on that couch. Whoever talked you into that couch is a nutjob.”

You smack his chest. “You convinced me to buy that couch!”

Yoongi shrugs, grinning softly. You smack him once more for good measure. Then you give into the instinct your body has been screaming for, which is to snuggle into him. You get comfortable with your head resting on his chest and one of your legs tangled between his. Your fingers fist into the material of his shirt on their own volition.

He pulls you closer with the arm that’s under you, not seeming to be satisfied until every gap between the two of you is gone.

“From now on, let’s be idiots together, okay?”

Yoongi chuckles and drops a lingering kiss on the top of your head. “Deal.”

#min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #suga x reader #min yoongi x y/n #suga x y/n #min yoongi #suga #bts x reader #bts #bts imagines #min yoongi imagine #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #min yoongi domestic #agust d #angst with fluff #angst with a happy ending

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liquorisce · 3 years

Text

High School Years, Ch 3: aftermath.

pairing: eren x mikasa (SnK)

rating: M. (nsfw)

Summary: for eren and mikasa, love was easy; they'd loved each other forever. but physical attraction? that's a whole other story.

read on ao3 | chap 2 | chap 1

The morning after the… “confrontation”, when they walk to school, they hold hands. It's a new dimension of their ‘relationship’, and the thought of calling it that, of calling Eren her ‘boyfriend,’ is something that makes her feel so many things.

“So um,” she begins, squeezing his hand a little bit, soft pink dusting her cheeks, as he turns to look at her questioningly. “... Are we going to tell the gang?”

For the briefest moment he looks confused, but when he sees her shy expression, not spelling it out because she doesn’t know how to say it yet, his eyes widen in understanding. “Ah that you and I...,” he colours, just a little bit, because it wasn’t until the words were literally at the tip of his tongue, that he realizes he doesn’t know how to say it either.

She’d said it last night, called him her boyfriend, and it did things to him, making his heart constrict with a nervous kind of excitement. Because he was Mikasa’s boyfriend, and that was something of an honour.

But another part of him, the part that recognizes what it means for a high school kid, just finds it completely lacking, he doesn’t want to announce that he’s ‘dating’ Mikasa Ackerman, the word simply does not do it justice. And he sure as hell doesn’t want to hear her name in the gossip rings, from the mouths of shallow, boring girls who have little better to do than keep track of their high school reality show or from the dirty whispers of teenage boys who can’t control their hormones (if Eren is one of them, he doesn’t acknowledge it).

“... Maybe we could just keep it quiet? Just for a little while…” He watches her expressions searchingly, and she does that thing that she does, hides into her bangs when she doesn’t want him to see what she’s thinking and he panics, just a little.

“Hey, listen,” he stops her by the wrist, before they round the corner onto the street of their school. “... It’s not that I want to hide it,” he whispers, resting his forehead against hers, because god forbid she thinks he’s embarrassed or ashamed or anything short of absolutely ecstatic, “You know that, right?”

She closes her eyes and she lets the waves of insecurity pass her by. Surely, there was nothing more to worry about. He’d made no secret of the depth of his feelings last night. “Mm-hmm.” She feels his minty breath cool on her lower lip and she reaches up to press her mouth against his. It’s tentative, the way she does it, reserved and shy but completely incomparable. It’s like everything she does, he thinks breathlessly, as he deepens the kiss. There’s no one like her.

She threads her hands into his already messed up hair, breathing harshly as she breaks away from his kiss. “I don’t mind,” she agrees, “... I think I’d like it to be just between us for a while…”

And because he’s so grateful that he’s in love with his best damn friend, who knows him and understands him like nobody else, he kisses her again… just because he can.

…

They know. He doesn’t know how they know, but they fucking know, and he mutters unhappily under his breath, “... fucking vultures, the whole lot of them.”

Armin smirks, not unsympathetically. They’d mutually decided to tell him (rather, he spotted them holding hands, and he’d almost cried in happiness), even though Eren had been somewhat sour about it, sulking when Mikasa had pointed out that they obviously needed to tell Armin. Eren was a brat, and a jealous one, especially where Mikasa was concerned, so despite having ample proof by now that the kiss between Armin and her had meant nothing, it remained a sore topic for him.

“Isn’t it easier this way? At least now you won’t have to stare down all the boys queuing up to ask for her number in the cafeteria.”

“... That’s not the point,” Eren sulks, even though he knows Armin has a point (he always does), the phenomenon he’d described was a canonical and frequent event that he actively loathes, because Mikasa was quite free with her personal details that way.

( It’s high school, Eren , she’d told him exasperatedly one day when he’d actually brought it up to her, if I don’t give them my number they’ll get it from someone else anyway. Besides, the block functionality is quite useful .)

Somehow Eren is fairly certain that knowing she was in a relationship wouldn’t be enough to deter potential suitors (/ fanboys) and as they walk towards their class, he spots the best example of this crass behaviour in none other than his horse faced friend chatting up his girlfriend, who seemed to be fairly liberal with her smiles.

Armin watches the scene from right next to him and snorts, barely able to contain his laughter. “... You’re so transparent, Eren.”

“Clearly the news hasn’t reached everyone,” he clears his throat, tearing his gaze away from the beauty and the beast, trying his best to remain civil and not scare his girlfriend away in less than 24 hours of them being, you know, together .

“This is what you wanted,” Armin reminds him, clapping his shoulder sportingly, barely able to contain his grin.

…

She tugs nervously at her hair, feeling ridiculously exposed despite the fluffy maroon scarf around her neck. She hadn’t been prepared for the events of yesterday, be it the emotional confession, or the heated kisses, or the possessive nips at her neck.

She certainly wasn’t prepared for the self consciousness that came with the marks he left on her, and had absolutely no knowledge of the make up skills required to cover it. (It hadn’t helped that it had taken Armin less than two minutes to spot the hickeys.)

But what she was least prepared for, is how almost everyone seemed to know, without her even having to open her mouth, and how they all seemed to have an opinion.

… Aw, but I was really counting on him getting back together with Krista… they were so cute…

… I wonder how long he’ll stay with this one…

… wait, Mikasa Ackerman? Aren’t they like practically siblings or something? Ewwww~

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to gag, or if she wanted to hide… or both.

She doesn’t hide. Because Mikasa Ackerman is a class act and despite feeling completely torn up listening to bitchy people talk about her like she does not possess hearing, she goes through the day looking outwardly untouchable.

But after trudging through the entire day of listening to absolute bullshit rumours and whispering, she’s pretty sure she feels a migraine incoming. Groaning to herself, as she takes out her notebook from her locker, she finds herself face to face with a chirpy voice that she once hated.

“... Hey,” Krista says, with a small smile. “... rough day, huh.”

Mikasa nods, it’s not that she dislikes the cute blonde in front of her (not too much, anyway), it’s just that today was not the day she wants to be visually reminded of her existence. Because watching her, in her white miniskirt and pink sweater, perfect blonde hair and her perfect smile, is reminiscent of all the days she hid in her room with only her insecurity for company.

“So um,” Krista begins, because Mikasa can be comfortable in her silence, just looking at Krista questioningly. “... Everyone’s talking about it, basically,” she blurts out, unable to help herself.

“And if you want to know whom to smack, it’s Hitch, because she says she saw you guys holding hands outside school and making out, and she snapchatted it to the whole world, because that’s what she does and,” - Mikasa’s eyes narrow and Krista takes a deep breath.

“Look, I just wanted to reach out, and you know,” she clears her throat, like it was obvious what she was doing here. Mikasa just looks blank, feels blank. “... Like, I don’t want it to be awkward or anything, between us,” Mikasa is genuinely confused at this point, because there didn’t have to be an us, between her and Krista, their social circles were comfortably distant enough to have as minimal interaction as possible. “... You seem like a great person, and honestly, I’m not even surprised you guys ended up together. It was just a matter of time, I guess.”

She smiles earnestly as she says this, and Mikasa finds herself liking the short blonde despite herself, and offers a smile back. “... Thanks, that’s sweet of you.”

“And um,” Krista offers, completely casually, “... I could lend you some concealer if you wanna… you know, cover that up.”

…

“Snapchat!” Sasha wails theatrically, “... I can’t believe this is what our friendship has boiled down to.”

Mikasa has the grace to look guilty. “Explain to me, bestie ,” Sasha can be quite scary when she has her manic face on, “why, I had to receive a snap from the school’s number one hoe, informing me of the fact that my best friend had finally hooked up with her absolute thirst trap of a roommate.”

She doesn’t have much to say to defend herself, she simply slinks lower into her seat. “... I’ll buy you lunch for a week,” Mikasa whispers, defeated.

“Oh you better,” Sasha declares, still fuming. “... Snapchat, are you fucking kidding me…” She turns around once more, sizing Mikasa up deliberately. “... What about that time I walked in on you guys, in the kitchen, and he didn’t have a shirt on?” Sasha narrows her eyes accusingly. “... Were you two already…? Did you lie to me back then?”

“No! God, no,” Mikasa vaguely wonders why she sounds so defensive and apologetic about her own love life, but she remembers that Sasha is upset and for what it’s worth, she loves her like a sister, so she says, “... I swear, there was nothing between us then. It only happened, like… last night.”

Mikasa blushes as she says it, and the twinkle returns to Sasha’s brown eyes. “You must tell me everything,” she commands, and despite her sighing and blushing and giggling, Mikasa does exactly that.

...

He waits for her as they walk back from school. This is new too. Well not entirely, they’d walk back together, the three of them, Him, Mikasa and Armin, everyday in middle school, but high school had brought them different routines, and a distance that he was happy to get rid of.

“So…” he says as he slips his fingers between hers. “So much for our plan to keep it quiet.”

She burrows her head into his arm, “... everyone knew. Literally everyone.” After a minute, she adds reproachfully, “The hickeys you left on my neck didn’t help, either.”

He grins despite the glare she gives him. Embarrassing or not, he didn’t regret it one bit, not the moments that led up to those anyway... the way she’d found herself on his lap, fitting so perfectly in his arms, and against his mouth. The way she’d gasped when he’d let himself explore the sensitive skin on her neck.

He understands her situation, but god, there was no way he’d apologize for the sheer sensation he’d felt in that moment.

Tugging at her scarf to see his own handiwork, he can’t help his disappointment when he sees only a faint outline of them on her pretty skin. “... I see you’ve covered them up.”

“Ah,” Mikasa grins, “... that was your ex, actually.”

She feels him still, letting go of her hand for a brief moment. “... What?” Eren blinks nervously. They don’t really talk about his ex, not much more than they did yesterday anyway, and he wishes they’d never have to, not now that he knows perfectly well how much it had hurt Mikasa.

“You… um, spoke to her today?”

Mikasa nods, “... She came by to say hello, yeah.” And because Eren looks extremely uncomfortable at the thought, she giggles and tells him, “She says she didn’t want things to be awkward between us.”

Eren groans, “... this sounds like the teaser to every high school drama ever.” But despite his sarcasm, he was worried because despite Mikasa’s unassuming popularity in school, she lived her life outside of the cliques, the gossip rings, the drama… and Krista, sweet that she was, was somehow always in the thick of it.

“Don’t worry,” Mikasa says sweetly, “... if you want me to tell you that we had a catfight over you, prepare for disappointment.”

He grins in relief and asks, “... Is it so wrong to indulge in the fantasy of you fighting with another girl over me?” And because he can’t help himself, he adds, “You’d win for sure, Mikasa.”

…

As long as she can remember, Mikasa had been in love with Eren. It wasn’t complicated, or confusing for her, she’d loved him and she’d always known it.

When she was younger she had less trouble expressing it, they played together all the time, and she shared her toys with him, her sweets, and promised his mom she would take care of him when he got into trouble.

During her darkest days (after losing her parents), he would look after her, keep an eye out for her, tuck her in sometimes and sleep by her side when she had nightmares. Back then it was easier to ask for his attention - Eren could you stay with me, she remembers her 12 year old self asking, sniffling in the night, with no inhibitions, just a young girl asking for comfort from the boy she shared everything with.

(He’d given her everything she asked for graciously, fussing over her in his own way, watching over her even when she didn’t notice.)

It’s the ‘how’ that increased in complexity, the way she wanted more and more as the years went by, until the point where her love for him was a complete stranger. It was frustrating when she first realized it, when she realized she looked at him more often than usual… when she realized she wanted him to look at her too.

Growing up they’d watch movies together, and she’d often wonder about the way the hero kissed the heroine at the end of the movie, and wondered if someday Eren would kiss her like that. Most of all she wondered if Eren thought about it too.

When he started dating, that became amply clear to her - he thought of kissing, and to her unfortunate attention, it became clear that he thought of much more too. Those months were incredibly difficult for Mikasa because not only did she have to go through life like nothing had changed - ostensibly nothing had, not between them - but she had to police every indiscrete thought when he walked around after his shower without a shirt on, she had to control her gaze every time it fell on his beautiful mouth, wondering exactly what it would feel like against hers.

And for the first time in the longest time, Mikasa could no longer love Eren the way she always had, openly and without shame, she could no longer ask of him his care and attention.

But it feels like overnight so much has changed, she can barely comprehend it. Eren is so generous with his attention (his love), she wonders if the last couple of years of distance was the doing of her own imagination.

He is so free with his touches, sometimes gentle on her waist, sometimes tender on her face, sometimes rough in her hair (this excites her most of all). She no longer has to wonder if he’d ever kiss her like in the movies, he kisses whenever he damn pleases, and it always, always takes her by surprise. And it is so much better than she has ever imagined.

…

He saunters in as she prepares the tofu carefully, and because Mikasa is a perfectionist in everything she does, she’s concentrating completely on flipping each piece at the perfect moment when they turn golden brown.

But because Eren finds literally everything she does impossibly cute, he wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her gleefully on the cheek. It has the desired effect, she gasps, dropping her fork, and he catches her in an open mouthed kiss.

He manages to distract her for a good couple of minutes until she smells the tofu becoming decidedly darker than golden brown. “Erennn,” she whines, “... my tofu is ruined!”

“I’m sure it’ll taste wonderful,” he says because she’s an excellent cook, but also because he’s slightly affronted that by the way she pulls away in complaint.

“Please. Go sit,” she swats him away, making him pout adorably. He does as he is told and waits till she plates the food minutes later, and he’s pleased to say that he was absolutely right, it did taste wonderful.

But he’s more eager to eat up as soon as possible and finish what he tried to start a few moments ago.

“What are you going to do after dinner?” The answer he wants to hear is I’d like to make out with my boyfriend , but just as he expected, Mikasa’s mind is on a slightly different wavelength.

“... Hmm,” she eyes him suspiciously, “... I guess I’ll finish cleaning up and read the latest chapter in English Lit before bed, and just drift off to sleep. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he states innocently. “... I’ll help you clean up.”

He changes the topic before they have a chance to linger, and does good on his promise to clean up as fast as he can. It’s ridiculous the way he’s acting, and he doesn’t understand it himself, but he can’t seem to help himself. He can’t seem to stop looking at her, can’t seem to stop craving her, whether it’s the closeness of her body or the taste of her lips, and he’s pretty certain the way he’s acting right now is downright embarrassing, but somehow since its with Mikasa, he feels emboldened.

Or at least that’s how he’d felt until recently. Of late there’s been just the slightest amount of doubt that’s crept in. He finds himself wondering if it’s just him who feels this way, this inexplicable urge, and he wishes that she’d be the one reaching for him more often.

“Thanks, Eren,” she murmurs, breaking him out of his intense internal monologue, when she reaches over and brushes a chaste kiss on his cheek. It warms him instantly, immediately making him want more.

He dries up and follows her out of the kitchen, and as she turns into her room, he grabs her wrist and says, “... Mikasa, wait,” and when she flips her head to look at him, he nestles her against the wall and whispers, “... I just wanted to say goodnight,” before kissing her full on the mouth.

For all that he internally complains about her not initiating their kisses enough, she responds beautifully to him, opening her mouth to him, and slipping her tongue inside, gasping when his fingers slip under her shirt, brushing softly above her ribcage. She slides one hand around his neck and the other clutches his shirt, pulling him so close to her, he revels in the feeling of her body pressed against hers.

He doesn’t even know how, or why, because he isn’t thinking when he’s kissing Mikasa, just going with it, running on the sheer feeling of it all, because he just gives into her - but she’s got both arms around his neck and he’s pressing her so firmly against the wall, tongue shameless in its exploration of her mouth, he slips one of his legs between hers.

She likes it, likes the pressure between her legs and she finds herself moving against him, grinding almost, embarrassingly, and she doesn’t even register consciously, until she feels him hard and pressed up against her thigh. She makes an embarrassing noise, something between a gasp and a moan, and suddenly his eyes snap open, all too conscious of their position.

She feels him twitch against her, and she can barely breathe with the excitement of it all, the newness… the feeling. He looks at her like a different person, green eyes heady and searching, holding her in a heated gaze. But in the most crushingly confusing move, he steps back and whispers “good night,” before turning towards his own room.

Quite frankly, she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Any more of that and she would’ve melted into jelly all over the leg that was between her thighs. And instead of pursuing that intense, boneless feeling, she finds herself catching her breath alone in the hallway with a confoundingly novel ache between her legs.

…

He watches her at the tennis court the next day; he drags Armin with him.

He’s never cared much for the game itself, only knows the basic rules because Mikasa’s been playing for years. She has a practice match today, against Jean, and he’d claimed he’d only wanted to see ‘his girl’ crush that horse face to the ground.

But the more he sits next to Eren, the more Armin feels decidedly uncomfortable. “Oi, Eren,” he says, when he’s fairly certain he’s had enough. Eren looks at him annoyed for being distracted from the game. “... What?”

Armin pinches the bridge of his nose before speaking, because how does he say this politely? “... You’re staring.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t huh me! You’re literally ogling her,” he hisses under his breath, “... it’s embarrassing, so please stop.”

He feels his face burn as he splutters, “I, I’m just watching the-,” he’s quite literally red by this point, “... Armin, what the fuck?” He just wants to hide, and so he hides his face in his hands.

He was right, he was staring, and he knew this because his mind had memorized the way she looked in that outfit, white tank top low cut and body hugging and giving him an excellent view as she moved. And he didn’t even want to comment on the way those shorts hugged her curves and how it flowed perfectly into her long, glorious legs.

If he could kick himself he would.

“What’s going on with you?” Armin asks, after he gives Eren a moment to recover from absolute mortification. Hesitating, he says, “... This isn’t the first time I’ve caught you staring at her like this recently.”

He looks at Armin helplessly, because he doesn’t know how to put it into words. “You can talk to me,” Armin coaxes him, “... you do embarrassing shit in front of me all the time anyway,” he supplies helpfully.

There’s conflict in his green eyes as he considers just how to say it, if he wants to at all. He’s still not a hundred per cent over the fact that Armin was Mikasa’s first kiss and if anyone could hold a (pointless) grudge it was Eren.

“However if you still choose to not talk to me about Mikasa because you are hung up over a stupid drunk kiss, then that’s completely fine with me too,” Armin says, reading Eren’s mind cheerfully.

“... You didn’t have to bring it up,” he says sullenly. Armin rolls his eyes. “... You’re thinking about it anyway, so I might as well talk about it.” He’s known him far too long to not understand the very simplistic nature of Eren’s thought processes.

“... I can’t stop looking at her,” he confesses, deciding to gloss over the discomfort of their kiss and focus on the main problem instead. “I hadn’t noticed,” Armin quips dryly, and Eren glares at him - so much for ‘ You can talk to me, Eren.’

“I’m losing my mind here, Armin,” trust Eren to always be dramatic, without fail, “... You can make fun of me all you want, but everytime I look at her, I,” he inhales sharply. “... God, I feel disgusting. It’s Mikasa for fuck’s sake.”

And It’s Mikasa whom his friend had always been slightly unhinged for, but Armin thinks better of saying this.

“... I feel like I just don't know how to look at her respectfully anymore,” and he says

this almost choked, so distressed, that Armin tries very very hard to suppress a laugh.

…

She wishes she hadn’t done it.

In a rare moment of weakness that she now regrets, she had given into Sasha’s ever curious inquisitions into her love life. And by love life here, Sasha was explicitly digging for the good stuff.

“Eh?!?”

Mikasa waits patiently for Sasha to return from her high pitched look of disbelief.

“... What do you mean you haven’t slept together yet?” Sasha asks, a bit calmer this time, but still urgently distressed about the matter.

“We just… haven’t,” Mikasa explains rather unsatisfyingly.

“So… do you like, want to wait or something? I thought you’ve been in love with him since forever…”

No matter how much she’s accepted that fact herself, it still makes her blush when she hears it out loud. “... It’s not like, I want to, um, wait or anything,” she confesses. Because she’s found herself thinking of the same thing every night since the time Eren had her against the wall, pinned against him and his hardness. It’s almost like it created a monster out of her, a monstrous desire that has her eyeing him out the corner of her eye whenever she gets the chance. It makes her seek him out more often, seek him out after his workout, after his shower, innocently, by accident of course, and she’s ashamed of herself.

“... You just need to jump him,” Sasha says, with the utmost seriousness. Like she knew anything at all on this subject. “And boy have I got the perfect thing to help you.”

…

Mikasa Ackerman is a huge fan of Marie Kondo. It was one of the curiously annoying yet cute things about her that Eren has an impressively large list of.

She’s watched the Netflix show more times than he can count, follows her on Youtube, and once he’d seen her pray to her room or some shit before she started cleaning. It mystifies him, and he doesn’t care enough to understand more so he just goes along with it.

Today she’s decided she has way too many clothes and she will only keep what “sparks joy” in her, so she’s strewn out her entire closet and demanded in the sweetest way that he helps her with her mission.

(She throws in the offer of trying out all her outfits before she throws them out, and Eren is horny for a fashion show or the moments in between so he readily agrees)

“... I’m not sure about this one,” she says, eyeing herself in the green dress critically.

Eren’s eyes bulged in disbelief. “... You’re kidding, you look like a fucking goddess, Mikasa.”

She blushes happily with the compliment, but Eren isn’t exaggerating. It’s a slinky strapless number which was incredibly short. And it had a slit. According to Eren, the slit could not be emphasized enough.

“... Your legs look incredible,” he says, providing her the only decent compliment he can muster. The rest he does his best to convey with eyes.

“... It just doesn’t feel like something I wear usually, you know… so I don’t know if it sparks joy...”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes, “Well, you should wear it. C’mere let me help you spark some joy,” he says, playfully pulling her down into the pile of clothes that made a poofy bed on the floor.

She giggles, settling over him happily, and for a moment his sappy little heart feels like it’s going to explode. He’s pretty sure her giggle is his most favourite sound in the whole world.

“... You’re insane,” he breathes, relishing in the way she feels on top of him, his hands sliding up her legs and resting just beneath the hem of her dress (just beneath her ass). She kisses him sweetly, tongue flicking gently on his lip and making him groan softly. His hands brush past her ass, caressing ever so softly as they come to rest on the small of her back.

She deepens the kiss, and he grabs her hips roughly, angling her mouth onto his in a way that suits him, gives him access and he sighs into her mouth. The view of her on top of him, is unparalleled, her thighs around his hips and her chest heaving temptingly with her harsh breathing. He closes his eyes and captures her mouth again before he makes a fool of himself in front of her again.

But she has her hands in his hair, and she’s pressing down, grinding down against his crotch, and he can feel himself pulse at every brush of contact, and he groans knowing fully well that there’s no way she can’t feel his length brush against her legs.

He doesn’t want to stop, or run away, because he’s ridiculously turned on at this point, and unwilling to let go of her, so he simply turns her around and pins her beneath him, taking advantage of the way she squeals, to slip his tongue into her mouth and taste her.

It’s so tempting having her beneath him like this, so he gives in and slips his leg between hers again, eager to have her rub against him like she did that day, with the faintest hint of a moan, like he hasn’t been able to forget.

His fingers entwine with hers and he stretches them above her head, wanting so much to just kiss her senseless, but they collide with a cardboard box and he spares a glance at it, in annoyance.

Until he squints and actually sees what it is. The label alone makes him blush, not to mention the contents that he could clearly see under the transparent plastic covering.

Mikasa looks up, dazed and a little bit disoriented from what was possibly the most intense make out session she had ever experienced. “... Eren?”

“Babe,” he rasps, choked, “... are you trying to tell me something?”

She follows his line of sight, and wants to hide, wants to die, wants to erase this moment from her very existence.

Her Sensual Pleasure kit, he reads, his mind effectively going numb as he comprehends the contents: a vibrator, a blindfold, some pink fuzzy handcuffs and what looks like a generous bottle of lube.

Somehow even though she forgot about this ridiculous thing, having stuffed it into her closet to forget all about the ridiculousness on her friend’s face when she gave it to her, it seems to have stumbled out into the light of day at the worst possible moment.

If she could murder Sasha and get away with it, she would.

“... I-It’s not what you think, Eren,” she mumbles, cheeks red and panicking, even though she has absolutely no idea what she wants him to think.

“I assure you,” he manages, “... I’m not really thinking right now, Mikasa.” Sure enough his mind had somewhat short circuited, barely able to handle the pressure of having his extremely sexy girlfriend beneath him and somehow simultaneously having discovered what appeared to be her sextoys .

Gingerly, he reaches for it, and he almost gasps, because the box had been opened and fiddled with. “Did you actually…”

He looks at her face, and it’s the colour of a tomato by this point, teeth biting her lower lip nervously, and he doesn’t know whether to laugh or if he is even more turned on.

“The vibrator, Mikasa, did you…?” His voice is so hoarse just imagining, it superseded any fantasies he’s had up until this point. “... Eren,” she whines, embarrassed, hiding her face in her hands.

“Please for the love of god, Mikasa, please just tell me, baby,” he’s pleading because he really needs to know at this point. He needs to know if he’s been going to bed in the room besides her without the potent knowledge that she’s been using this to relieve herself at night.

When she nods, just ever so imperceptibly, he’s pretty sure he’s going to combust. “... What did you think of when you were using it?” His voice sounds like a stranger’s.

She looks conflicted, looks unbelievably embarrassed, but he’s pretty sure he isn’t imagining it when he hears the faintest whisper from her saying, “... you.”

But that isn’t going to cut it, because he’s spent countless nights with a raging boner and raging guilt, as he jerked off to the most tantalizing moments he’s had with her… and he barely ever manages to look her in the eye the next morning. So he has to, no, he needs to know that he hasn’t been the only one in this absolutely ridiculous situation.

He kisses her hard, teeth grazing hers, mouth eager and greedy, and she responds to him with equal fervour. His head drops to her shoulder as he kisses her bare collarbone. “... If you knew how many times I’ve touched myself thinking of you, you wouldn’t be able to look at me the same again.”

His words are a deep, throaty confession that he whispers on her skin, and it brings a tingle down to her spine and all the way to her toes. She thrusts her chest upwards against him subconsciously.

“... I think of you too, you know… all the time,” she confesses, forgetting the very meaning of inhibition. It’s hard to remember it when he looks at her that way, heat burning from his verdant eyes, his grip firm against her hips. She doesn’t want to; doesn’t need it, if it means she can be this close to him.

“... Do you think you can show me?” he whispers, barely thinking through his requests through his lust-filled haze.

He sees her hesitating, contemplating, and he finds himself praying as his fingers inch up the dress and dig into the curves of her ass, lips delicate against the tops of her breasts.

“Only if you show me how you touch yourself,” she murmurs, and he can feel himself twitch in excitement.

She backs up against her bedpost and slips out of her panties, and Eren is absolutely, positively certain, he has never seen anything more appealing than when she slowly, deliberately, hikes up that beautiful green dress and spreads her legs.

He’s so lost in the sight before him, he forgets what he’s promised until she says, steel eyes determined, challenging him almost, “... your turn, Eren.”

He shucks his pants off gracelessly, he couldn’t make it look as artful as she does even if he tried, but he’s happy to be free of the restrictive material as he springs heavy and erect at the sight of her. “... Could you um, pass me the lube,” he asks, and she does, but not before squeezing some onto her own hand.

It’s hypnotic how she rubs it into herself, wet, and pretty and pink, and he jerks into his hand, slick and wanting, as he whispers, “... God, you’re beautiful.”

His words only serve to enhance the needy pressure between her legs, the tingling feeling that her slow circular motions were only making worse. She picks up the vibrator and turns it on, pressing it to her nub, the way she’s done a few lonely nights by herself, wishing it was him against her skin.

It’s different this time, because even though it’s her and the silicone toy, Eren’s gaze is like liquid fire on her skin, dark and licentious, and almost greedy. She throws her head back, shivering with pleasure and gasping.

“... What did you think of when you played with yourself?” He asks again, and this time she knows he wants a more specific answer.

“Your fingers,” she mumbles, and she finds the pleasure makes her startlingly more honest. He could ask anything of her, and she would tell him.

The idea, the thought of it, makes him twitch happily in his hand, and he jerks erratically, feeling an unbelievable urge come over him. “... Did you get wet thinking of my fingers on you, Mikasa?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nods, blushing prettily, high off the vibrating sensations. Without planning to, he crawls over between her legs and kisses her deeply, murmuring on her lips, “... then let me touch you, baby.”

It was her who was being stimulated, but he nearly groans into her hair at the feeling of her soft wetness, the way it feels against his fingers, the way her arousal coats him so eagerly.

“... I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” he murmurs hoarsely, rubbing delicate circles across her nub, diligently favouring the area she had favoured mere moments ago. “Then why didn’t you,” she gasps at the last syllable, at the sudden intrusion of his long finger having slid deep inside her.

“... Sorry,” he says, sounding far too turned on to be sorry, “... you’re so wet, Mikasa.” He’s in awe, almost reverent of how warm she is, how easy.

She hangs on to his neck now, teeth grazing his neck, whispering, “... I want you, Eren.” Her breath is warm and damp and he’s unmistakably certain of what she asks.

“... Are you sure?” He asks, panting, hoping to god she’s sure, because he’s so ready, he’s been ready for a long time now, and he can barely control himself from leaking onto his own hand, when she says, “Yes.”

He makes sure she’s comfortable, or as comfortable as she can be on top of her clothes, and he commits everything to memory, the way she looks beneath him, the way her breasts heave when he pulls off the entirety of that dress, the way her nipples stiffen against his warm kisses. “... Please,” she whimpers, when he takes his time with her, taking the peaks of her breasts into her mouth and teasing ever so slightly with his teeth.

“... I can’t help it,” he rasps, “I want to touch you everywhere, you’re so pretty, babe, I,” -

He chokes, cut off, by the feeling of her delicate hands circling around him, pumping slowly as she guides him to her entrance. “Shit, Mikasa,�� he curses, closing his eyes as he feels the sensation of her warmth against his tip.

It’s not his first time, but he feels like a stumbling virgin, murmuring desperate things as he feels her sheathe him completely, pausing only to pay attention to her comfort. Barely coherent, he asks, “... you okay?” She nods quietly, and his eyebrows furrow, looking at her questioningly. “Feels… so full,” she manages, with a feeble groan, and he can’t help but grin at how irresistible she is.

“... That’s because I’m supposed to fill you up, babe,” he whispers, not caring how far gone he is, because he slides out just a little only to spread her legs for him again, and slide back in. He tests the rhythm carefully, watching her expressions for any sign of discomfort, but the way she squeezes her eyes, the way she throws her head back with a gasp, just makes him lose whatever little control he had.

“Please tell me if I need to go slower,” he tells her, but judging from her reaction, from her moans, she only seemed to be egging him on.

It’s too much, he thinks, too much for him to possibly handle, not with the way she bucks her hips, and definitely not with the way she clenches needily around him.

And in a moment that he’ll probably never live down, he groans, “Fuck, babe, I’m going to,” - barely realizing with some consciousness to pull out of her tight, wet, core, and spills onto her stomach.

Mikasa’s never seen him make a face like that.

When he opens his eyes, she’s looking at him in wonder. And he’s looking at the mess he’s made on her stomach, and even though a small part of him only feels arousal at the sight of that, today he just feels like a massive asshole. “Shit,” he curses, not happy with how this played out at all. He reaches for the panties she’d so easily discarded and mops up his sticky release, mumbling, “... God, I’m so sorry, Mikasa. This was your first time, I can’t even believe,” -

“Eren,” she interrupts, because she doesn’t have time for this, his self-derision can come later. “... I, um…,” she clenches her thighs together, and he suddenly realizes that he hadn’t yet completely fucked shit up, he could still make her feel good, and that’s all he wanted.

He settles himself between her legs and spreads her folds open for him, feeling a familiar twitch at the pretty sigh in front of him. “I’ll take care of you, baby,” he whispers earnestly, before she feels his mouth on her folds. He kisses her like how he kisses her lips, like he wants to consume her, and if she thought it felt good against her own mouth, it felt only a million times better down there. He’s generous with his tongue, probing circling, sending her into a frenzy that only he could have managed.

She threads her fingers into his hair, gasping his name, prettily, holding on to him as she rides wave after wave of pleasure against his tongue.

When he lifts himself up and looks at her, he grins, his mouth shining because of her juices, and she closes her eyes swearing to herself that she will never forget that sight.

He collapses next to her, this time of a happier countenance because somewhere in his mind he’s judged this to be a fair exchange, and because Mikasa knows him so well, she can’t help but giggle.

“I’m not usually like this,” he asserts, once he’s caught his breath, and she’s barely managed to catch hers. She raises an eyebrow at him, amused. Trust Eren to be bothered about the unnecessary mechanics of his ego, barely minutes after their first time. “... I swear, next time I’m not going to let you go unless you have at least three orgasms. Minimum.”

“I guess I’ll have to hold you to it, Eren,” she murmurs, chuckling. “And before you freak out about the other thing; I’m on birth control, so don’t worry.” There’s silence, remarkably guilty silence, because he hadn’t thought about it, and that’s ridiculous because he’d never done it without a condom before, and if he ever feels like the biggest idiot on the planet, it’s at this moment.

“... I fucking love you, Mikasa,” he says sincerely, thanking the gods and this insane goddess right beside him, and this time she can’t help but laugh out loud.

a/n: edit: two whole weeks after posting ao3, i finally got around to putting this on tumblr.

to all those who have been on this journey with me, thank you so much. it's been so fun with these guys in the hsy verse.

i can't believe the story is over; i'm not ready to let go. going forward i may or may not right 3 more chapters each focusing on armin, historia, and jean respectively. i'm still mulling over it :)

i've recently been made aware that some people who read my stories are minors and i should be more mindful. so the note below -

i'd just like to clarify that it's fairly normal to be 18 yo in senior year of high school (at least where i'm from), which is when this last chapter takes place, so i did not feel the need to write age anywhere. i just want to clarify this; im no one to lecture any body on the appropriate age to be sexually active - as long as the person who you're with treats you respectfully and honours your consent. and respect your own limits and body.

HOWEVER I WILL ABSOLUTELY TAKE THIS MOMENT TO LECTURE YOU ON THE USE OF BIRTH CONTROL - PLEASE USE CONDOMS. please discuss birth control or std prevention with a sexual partner. DO NOT BE LIKE EREN AND FORGET JEEZUS. i'm 27 when i'm writing this so the last scene was just meant to be funny, especially his unbelievable sigh of relief when he finds out she had the foresight to be careful.

anyway, see ya and if it might interest you pls check out my mikasa stripper au ;) i'm very excited about it.

#eremika #liquorisce fanfiction #eremika smut #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #high school years

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prose-for-hire · 4 years

Text

Under the Mistletoe

12 Days of Christmas: (kind of) Day Five

Pairing: Rupert Giles x reader

Request: Thank you for letting me know! I didn't want to resend just in case it actually went through. I was curious if a Giles one could be done where the reader has hung mistletoe all over to get Giles to give some kisses, but him being Giles, he either doesn't see it because he has a book in hand or he sees it and panics, so he doesn't "see" it. Finally, the reader just snaps and grabs some mistletoe, walks to Giles and holds it over his head. "For a guy who is pretty smart . . . where are my kisses?"

Requested by: @sword-sings-of-silver

A/N: It’s gonna annoy me so much that this has been posted after Day six, but I didn’t realise I hadn’t queued it up and my Wifi was down so I’m sorry for not posting yesterday !! ❄🖤

You were in love. He was smart, witty and incredibly attractive. You had been driven wild with emotion whenever he was near. It had been almost two years now and you had yet to make any move. You didn’t know whether he felt the same which h made it hard to reveal your own deep feelings.

What you hadn’t realised was that he harboured such great feelings for you that he thought he may explode. He became nervous when your were around. You were so attractive. When you were in the room, his eyes were always on you. Until you looked his way and he diverted his gaze.

You were an assistant at the library, which meant you had a lot of time in the day with just you and Giles. Talking to him was so easy, so enjoyable. You were sure you had met your soulmate, in heart and mind. It was no secret that you loved Christmas and Giles, or Rupert as he insisted you called him, found it refreshing how enthusiastic you were. He had learnt so much about you, you spent most weekdays together and so he felt like he knew you like the back of his own hand.

At the beginning of December, Giles asked if you wanted to decorate this year for the holidays and you excitedly nodded and started to make a list of all of the items you would need to make it look much more Christmas-y in the room. You were beyond excited and your enthusiasm near made him melt. He adored you, wished he could spend even more time with you. Despite the fact you worked together. Somehow, it wasn’t even enough.

You were, of course, in on the knowledge of demons and the Hellmouth. You would have to, the amount of supernatural activity in that place would have driven you mad otherwise. Luckily, you had been classically trained. You had a degree in demonology and had originally started working there to track down a very rare tome you had wanted to research. However, you had met the man of your dreams and you loved being a librarian too.

You liked the kids that came in to save the world every now and again. They made you laugh although they were very nosy and asked you constantly about your love-life. They saw the way your eyes wandered over to Giles every time they asked.

Buffy, Xander and Willow had gotten tired of you both second-guessing the other’s intentions. So they hatched a plan. Just in time for Christmas. Xander, with a little of his Commando training still in his brain called it: Mission X-mas. Because they wanted to get you both to reveal your feelings by the time Christmas came around.

This was important because they had both found out that you were both spending Christmas day alone. They hoped if they pushed you into each other’s laps before Christmas break, they could enjoy their own holidays knowing that you may make plans together.

It was Monday morning, a day you wouldn’t usually enjoy however you found yourself increasingly enjoying it. Getting up in the morning were easier. It was the anticipation. It was seeing him. It made you smile as you packed the boxes of decorations in your trunk. You made a stop on your way to work and got in just in time. You had to make several trips with your boxes and Xander caught you in the corridor and offered to help. He muttered something about Santa’s grotto but when you asked him to repeat himself he said he thinks there’s a ghost in the room and then he sped off.

“Here, I brought you this” You offered him the to-go cup of tea you had picked up on the way to work. He smiled fondly and thanked you, offering to cheers with your cups. You met your drink with his and your eyes locked. The gaze you shared was so meaningful, so pure. You wanted to kiss him so badly it ached. He looked as if he was about to say something, but shook his head, thinking better of it. He thanked you again and offered to help you decorate. He knew this would make you smile, he loved your smile so much.

You sat together, discussing your weekend and the most recent demon problem. You finished off your hot drinks and sat in a comfortable silence together. You were so comfortable with him. You just wanted to tell him, but if you did you may lose moments like these if he didn’t reciprocate.

Suddenly, Xander ran in saying that he saw the demon summoner walking around Giles’ house that morning. Luckily, Giles didn’t ask why Xander had been there and just set off to his home. Not even a full minute after he left and you had barely opened up the first decoration box, Buffy and Willow soon followed by Xander slipped into the room.

“Shouldn’t you be at Giles’ house? With the demon summoner?”

“Ah, well, about that-”

“You were supposed to distract him not scare him!” Willow exclaimed, now worried about Giles who may think he was about to get seriously hurt.

“It got him out of the library” Xander put his hands up in surrender.

“whats going on here guys?”

“It’s Giles”

“What is it? Has he been possessed?” You asked, now worrying about him too. That would explain the draw he had. The effect he had on you. Maybe it was supernatural instead.

“well you could say that...”

“No you couldn’t” Buffy said.

“possessed by love” he said as the rest of you shared an eye-roll.

“Someone please explain” you said, moving your attention back to the box realising the situation wasn’t as serious as you once thought.

“Giles is in love with you!”

“Don’t be-”

“No really! He has a serious jones for you. Totally head over heels territory over here” Buffy confirmed. You squinted between them.

“Really?” you paused from looking in the box again. They nodded seriously.

“He just won’t tell you because he wants you to be comfortable at work”

“That’s so… sweet” you sighed dreamily and they all shared a look.

“So what do I do?” You asked them, really not sure why you were suddenly asking romantic advice from a bunch of high schoolers.

You looked in the boxes, pulling out a whole bunch of mistletoe. Everyone’s eyes landed on it and you all had the same idea at the same time.

You started to wind tinsel around the columns and sprigs of holly on different shelves. You made paperchains and decorated the tiny tree you had brought to sit on the librarians desk.

But the most important part was the mistletoe that you hung from every ceiling and every doorway. You stood with your back against the double doors to take in your handiwork and you did a little silent wish that your plan would work. You were second guessing yourself, getting cold feet. This was stupid. You had listened to teenagers that as far as you were away didn’t even date.

You shook your head at yourself, moving to go and tug some mistletoe down but just at that moment, he had returned grumbling something about Xander as he entered. That was it, there was no time to change it now. So you just let him take in the room. He loved it, mostly because you had done it. He moved to stand beside you and told you this. You shivered slightly as his body was close to yours. But he moved away too quickly.

You had both ducked under a bunch of mistletoe as you talked him through your vision for the decoration. You both looked up and then at each other. He every obviously saw it. His eyes widened as he moved away quickly. This confirmed what they had said to you. If he didn’t feel that way, he wouldn’t have so awkwardly moved away. It gave you hope. It made you smile to yourself softly. He went a bit quiet, pulling into himself to overcompensate for how much he wanted to kiss you.

It kept happening, you met under the mistletoe almost several times each hour. But he avoided your eyes, ducked his head and mumbled some kind of excuse. He was dying inside, he was so desperate to kiss you but he didn’t want to risk losing your friendship. It didn’t cross his mind that you had put them there on purpose.

For the rest of the day, he walked with a book, not looking up much. He desperately wanted to pull you into him, your lips meeting so perfectly. It was almost too much. He was desperate to be with you. To hold you. To be close to you. He wanted to keep you warm through the long winter. Wanted to be by your side.

It took you until almost the end of the day to properly work up the courage. But eventually you watched him start to get up from his office and you quickly got up to meet him in the doorway. The mistletoe hung directly between you. He started to look down at his feet and say something but you spoke first.

"For a guy who is supposed to be pretty smart... where are my kisses?" You smiled, leaning into him. He was surprised you could harbour these feelings.

“Well, ah, yes-” you rolled your eyes, pulled him into a kiss that he quickly returned. Your lips met, gliding over each other. Every move charged with such raw emotion. You both dropped what you had been holding to reach for the other. Wanting to pull each other even closer. To have each others skin against skin. His hand cradled your head and you ran your hands up his back. His lips were addictive, even better than you had imagined. He was an amazing kisser. Made even better because of how much care he harboured.

You backed into his office, smiling into the kiss. He cupped your face hungrily kissing around your lips and jaw before catching your lips once more. He had been dreaming of this and he didn’t want to ever stop.

However, at this moment Snyder walked in rolling his eyes at your decorations and pulled a large amount of paperchains from the ceiling. You heard this and moved apart quickly. You stepped out of the office to face him. Both of you a little out of breath. He snaps that your Christmas decorations are not regulation. He looks between you and scowls. As if he wanted to say something. To catch you out. But instead he just turns on his heels and leaves.

Which allowed you and Giles to slip back into the office, desperate to study each other’s bodies rather than the books you usually would. Your lips met again as he sat you on the desk, he adored the way you glowed under the Christmas lights you had just installed earlier that day. This Christmas was shaping up to be the best one yet.

#Rupert Giles #Giles #Rupert Giles x reader #Rupert Giles x you #Rupert Giles imagine #Giles x reader #Giles x you #Giles imagine #12 days of christmas #12 days of xmas #gender neutral #gender neutral reader #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #btvs #btvs x reader #Btvs imagine #btvs x you

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wshayan · 3 years

Photo

[ ANGELFISH ENT ] SEOUL AUDITION │ SEPTEMBER 2021

there’s no good reason for him to be here, other than he has absolutely nowhere else to be.

angel had been in seoul for just about a year now, living in a cramped apartment with random guys he’d met online. they were friends now, sure, but haru had been absolutely convinced that they would murder her son within him an hour of him arriving in the capital.

they hadn’t, and he was still very much alive.

and now he was at an audition to be an idol, something he didn’t even know was a thing when he was a kid.

the woman in front of him seems kind enough, but that doesn’t stop angel from feeling his heartbeat in his throat. he rarely took things seriously but, somehow, this seemed serious.

he wasn’t taking this seriously. he couldn’t take this seriously.

“can you introduce yourself?”

angel swallowed harshly, staring directly at the camera pointed at him. “angel leblanc. my name is angel leblanc, and this is my audition for angelfish entertainment.” his accent dripped thickly into his words, his korean still being god awful even after a year.

“and what will you be presenting?”

it wasn’t her fault, angel knew that, but his nerves were starting to get the better of him. he wasn’t meant to be here, not even a little bit. no, he had a job in a few hours, he should be getting ready for that — not this.

“um, i’ll be singing marina and the diamonds’ idle teen.”

somehow, that had been the only song he could remember all the way through in the moment. he probably should’ve picked a korean song, something that showed off his skills but no matter the digging he did, those were the only lyrics his brain could produce.

after he’d finished, he distinctly heard the woman mumble ‘oh, those facial expressions…’

well, at least he could always fall back on the fact that he was pretty.

“can you rap?”

the question stung somehow, angel shifting nervously from feet to feet in front of her. “not in korean. my diction is — it’s not great. i mean, not yet.”

luckily, she didn’t push beyond that. if she’d asked him to rap, he might have left right then and there. god, there was no way he was getting this, was there?

wait — did he even want this?

“and what track will you be dancing to?”

he should’ve never come to this. he should’ve never even entertained the thought. an entertainer, an idol? he wasn’t cut out for this, his personality entirely too harsh for this type of environment. how the woman in front of him had no caught on to this from the moment she’d laid eyes on him, he had no clue.

“monsta x sunbaenim’s hero.”

“sunbaenim?”

angel almost took it as a slight. “they’re all older than me.”

before he could truly take offense, the woman queued up the track, angel taking position and doing his best.

why was he actually trying. he didn’t want this.

“okay, thank you for your time. angel-ssi?” she glanced down at the papers in front of her. “we’ll be in contact.”

he didn’t care what he thought, or so he reminded himself as he bowed at a full 90 degrees. “thank you.”

and sure enough, he’d be receiving a call from angelfish entertainment less than a week later.

#♡ · * ( solo )#angel might be evil but i love him dearly

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electricbluebutterflies · 2 years

Note

Jess/Leto + ''kiss me.''

Mid/Choice-era, we’re dealing with postpartum depression in a vague way here so read with caution. Everyone is safe and loved but that does not take away the brain stuff (as it shouldn’t). PG-ish and late queued crosspost // also on ao3

She worries, in the weeks after.

There is so much in this life she was never prepared for, the depths of emotions and how much she wants to feel all of them, how easily she pushes away parts of her training and chooses something better. She is aware what she has done, aware that one little choice she made a year ago has already turned her into one of history’s great monsters, and… if she is fallen, she thinks, if she is already too far gone, she might as well make the best of that too.

There is no turning back from what she has done. She has given birth to a son, and in doing so claimed more space than she was ever supposed to, not to mention the hundreds of years of other people’s plans thrown aside and oh the worst part is she didn’t even think of the weight of it all at the time. Only how much she wanted, and in her desire she might’ve caused so much trouble, and-

Almost a year later, in a seclusion that lasts longer than it needs to, her mind makes up for lost time and every possible dark thought comes down upon her.

It is easy enough to maneuver her life in her favor, to justify slightly unusual behavior. She is recovering from a physically exhausting event – and to think that went well, no unexpected complications, just the normal pain through which new life enters the world. The most feminine form of sacrifice, she’d once been told, and one she has been lucky to have such control over. If she does not want, she will never have to do this again, and she suspects she won’t. Once is enough. One extended sacrifice is enough. One perfect attempt at claiming too much.

This is what makes her restless even as she spends too much time curled up in a bed she’d barely slept in while she was not alone in her body, the fear of what might be said about her while she is unseen. The greater consequences will come later, the wrath of all she has walked away from takes time and it will be years if not decades before she suffers the deeper consequences of her impulsiveness. More domestic fallout, however, has likely already started and she chooses not to know the details just yet. She can piece together the probable narrative, the same things she’s been accused of as she has stepped more into the eye over the past few years but now with weight behind them, perhaps now trying to damn her partner as well. It does take two willing bodies to make such a decision, after all, and his consistent support of her doesn’t look quite right, and-

When she removes herself from her cocoon, Jessica knows, she will have more damage control to do than she’d ever thought possible. Protect what is hers. Protect her partner from any further scandal. Protect their son from all harm. There will be time for that. There will be so much time. She will make sure of it.

But for now she stays in her spaces, for once everything people wanted her to be, out of the way and unable to cause any new chaos in such a small world. This is temporary, she knows; when her heart is steady and her body is slightly more cooperative, she will go right back to everything she did before but with that much more justification for the complicated bits. Soon enough, date unknown but no more than a month or two out, her fog will lift and she will go on.

It is made clear enough how little is actually expected of her in this time, how few tasks need to be reallocated and worked around. Almost everything she has done since she came here has been voluntary, how she has slipped into roles that are not hers because there was no one else better suited for them, how consistently her partner has supported her in this. How little has been outright asked of her – suggestions at worst, opportunities offered in a kind of love, and she has taken all of them. There is no one else. In the deep parts of her heart, in ways that will never be said, she knows there never will be.

She will return to routines soon enough, but she does not miss them. She is given space, now, and she takes all she can. Nothing to do but rest, tend to her child, and try to quiet her mind. Perhaps the last quiet she will ever have. Perhaps-

It is evening, and she is curled up half-awake on the bed when she hears the door open and she knows. There have been attempts at returning to normal routines to the extent they ever had them, and she has appreciated her partner’s efforts. More days than not he comes to her at some point, their communication improving under the circumstances, the necessity of telling her what she’s missing out there, what will be waiting for her when she is ready, no pressure to it and-

“It feels wrong,” her partner says about midway through a list of the past few days’ highlights. “Without you. You are…”

She doesn’t know how to answer a question she doesn’t quite understand. She’s fine, she wants to say, or at least she will be. Another few weeks and she will be everything she has ever been again and there will be people who miss the temporary break they got from her, and-

“It’s been three weeks,” she decides is neutral enough. “That’s normal enough, I think?”

How easily she melts as her partner touches her face, how clear this affection, how clear that she did do what she was supposed to and become a core part of systems and-

“I won’t question you. However long you need. But you would be…”

Another thing they delicately move around, the fact that she is beloved for reasons beyond her usefulness but she still is useful, still able to see what is not seen and point out things no one else in her partner’s circle could ever notice. And more often than not handle them before she needs to, with all the discretion available to her as a compartmentalized woman with deep loyalties and a unique skill set, only disclosing her suspicions after she’s resolved them and sometimes not even then, sometimes-

“I know.”

It is in these moments she is reminded of all her partner is, how determined he has been to honor her boundaries even before she knew she had them, something inherently good there that she still doesn’t understand, something-

“Whatever you need,” he repeats, and this is why she opened her heart as she did, the clarity in his voice, they are perhaps too similar and stronger for it and-

“I’ll try, alright? If it’s what you want.”

She doesn’t get an answer, only a slight shifting of their bodies. She has learned to like casual touch, how unlike her background that is and all the more desirable for it, and that too has been different these past few weeks, a return of the caution she’d thought they’d moved past. She is still in no state for intimacies and she is thankful her partner understands that without being told, but she is not breakable, she could handle being held for more than a heartbeat, she could handle-

“Kiss me,” she breathes, and she wants to cry and she won’t, and she wants to do a lot of things and she won’t, and-

Familiarity is in their favor, how rare that casual act has been lately because she doesn’t like to initiate and her partner isn’t sure what’s allowed and oh she misses this. Soon enough, she promises herself, soon enough they’ll go back to normal, soon enough-

“That alright?”

“You always think I’m so fragile,” she says, still too close, still hiding the light in her eyes against the side of his face. “I’m not. Even now.”

It will still be weeks if not months before normal domestic routines resume, they both know that, she is lucky to have a lover who will let her say when she will allow herself to be laid down again. But her cocoon feels too small, and maybe her emergence will happen sooner than she thought. Maybe…

“You are half of my heart and you have given me the other,” he murmurs. “Forgive me for caution.”

She will. She always will. Someday that will be another form of devastation.

#ebf writes fic #leto x jessica #queue

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everybodyscupoftea · 4 years

Text

rockin around the christmas tree

pike jj x reader

you and jj decorate your first apartment together

this is in the future when you and jj are in nashville :)

(warnings: cursing, implied drinking, very very little editing)

At the words, “I’ve never really decorated a tree before,” you knew immediately that you were going to go all out for JJ. You knew his childhood wasn’t great and that he didn’t really experience it in college either with living in the dorm and then the frat house, but you didn’t consider that meant he’d never really done the tree and lights shebang.

Over the month of November you started gathering up random decorations, here and there, that you thought could fit in your apartment without being a nuisance. One afternoon you convinced your mom to drive over from your hometown with some of your favorite ornaments and decorations from childhood.

She loved JJ and was plenty happy to part with them for his sake. You made sure all the bags and boxes were put away in the second bedroom and made a promise with yourself to not tell him until after Thanksgiving.

Then you got slammed with paper after paper and quiz after quiz which led you to truly forget about everything until you went in there to make sure things were all clean for guests and tripped over a box full of lights.

“Ow, fuck!” you yelped, looking down to see what you’d hit, stomach dropping when you saw it all and heard JJ coming to see what was wrong. Before he could quite get to the door, you waved him away, “All good, just stubbed my toe.”

He backed away, hesitantly, toward the kitchen where he’d been cutting the turkey for dinner. Cody and Tyler were coming into town, and you were doubly excited that they were staying the night so that you could rope them into putting up the once forgotten decorations.

Just as you finished pushing everything out of the way and clearing off the bed, there was a knock at the door. JJ called from the kitchen, “Can you grab that, sweetheart, I’m almost done with the turkey?”

“Got it,” you yelled back, practically skipping to throw the door open for your friends you hadn’t seen outside of FaceTime in months. As soon as you threw the door open, Cody, who was closest, was pulling you into a tight hug, face pressed firmly into your hair. He sighed, “Damn, smell the same, kinda nice.”

You snorted, squeezing back, “That was soft.”

“Forgive me,” he answered sarcastically, “I just missed you is all.”

“Move,” Tyler interrupted before you could respond, elbowing Cody out of the way to hug you. You hugged back just as tight before grabbing both of them by the arms to pull them inside.

“JJ is finishing up the food, so I’ll give you guys a tour real quick and you can drop your stuff in the guest bedroom.”

“Sweet,” Cody nodded, “though I’m not sure how I feel about JJ being in control of the food.”

“Let him have it, I need to tell you guys something.”

They followed you around the whole place and ended in the second bedroom where you shut the door, Tyler smirked, “Getting us alone to pitch a foursome?”

You blinked, not prepared at all, “I-” after a few seconds gathered your thoughts, “no, I just wanted to know if you guys needed to be anywhere early tomorrow or if you could help us decorate for Christmas. JJ never has before, so I thought it could be a fun family activity.”

Before you even finished, Cody, who loved Christmas and decorating for it was nodding eagerly, “Oh fuck yeah. I’m so down. Is that why this room is so messy? Christmas decorations.”

You snorted, “Please, I haven’t forgotten how messy y’all are, I spent so much time in that disaster of a dorm room.”

Tyler waved you off, “We’re much better now.”

“I’m sure,” you answered sarcastically.

“I am, my girlfriend whipped me into shape,” Cody told you, “our apartment looks so dope.”

“Yeah, because your girlfriend has her shit together and a Pinterest board.”

Tyler snorted, “True, you have no eye for interior design.”

Cody rolled his eyes as JJ yelled for everyone to come eat. The four of you sat around the small table you and JJ found on sale with plates heaped full of food. Before anyone could take a bite, you cleared your throat, “Okay, everyone share their lists.”

A tradition the four of you started in college was to share at least three things each person was thankful for before eating whatever you’d managed to put together for dinner, usually takeout because no one was thankful for cafeteria food and the shitty dorm kitchen.

“I’ll go first,” Tyler started, “I’m thankful for the Sixers finally playing well, my girlfriend for getting me a new job, and for you guys having a nice enough apartment to play host.”

“Wait wait wait,” JJ held his hand up, “your girlfriend got you a job?”

Tyler shrugged, “I figure if I play my cards right and don’t fuck anything up, when she finishes law school and has a nice job, I can become a trophy husband. I’ll be supportive as fuck and the best arm candy on the planet.”

You snorted and said, “Okay, poor Emma first of all. It’s my turn though. I’m thankful for my therapist, she’s really done a lot of heavy lifting this fall, I’m thankful for JJ not burning the building down while cooking, and I’m thankful for you guys driving to see us because my separation anxiety was getting pretty bad and my poor therapist needs a break.”

Cody gave you a thumbs up, “Live to serve. My turn, I’m thankful for Liverpool sucking ass this season, I’m thankful that my girlfriend is good at everything I’m bad at because I’m pretty sure I’d have died by this point, and I’m thankful that you guys live somewhere interesting enough that I want to come visit.”

“Okay, me last,” JJ started, “I’m thankful for you guys being here even though it was kind of an inconvenient trip, I’m thankful for my boss for giving me a holiday bonus, and I’m thankful to finally get to spend a holiday in my own space. A safe space.”

Cody and Tyler, both great with emotion, held out fists for him to bump and then started eating.

“Okay,” you clapped your hands, startling JJ awake the next morning, “it’s noon, we’ve slept off most of the hangover, and now we have shit to do.”

“What?” he asked, voice cracking, as he rubbed his eyes.

“It’s Christmas season, we have to decorate.”

JJ groaned, “Shopping? While I feel like this? No.”

“No need to shop, I have it all. Now get up, get dressed, and let’s do this.”

Tyler was already up when you walked out of the bedroom, and he waved, “I ordered breakfast but couldn’t find your coffee pot. Cody is sorting through the decorations, did you have a tree?”

“Yeah, I have one in the closet, we always did a real tree at home, but I figured we should start small and see how it goes.”

“Good plan. I think Cody has a Christmas playlist ready. He’s so excited, could barely sleep.”

He followed you to the kitchen and leaned against the door frame while you made coffee. You chuckled, “Yeah, I know how much he loves Christmas. I’m honestly kind of surprised we never did a group decorating thing like this before.”

“Well,” Tyler crossed his arms, “we did the small trees in the dorm, but JJ didn’t want to buy one for himself so it didn’t really count. And then decorating the frat house was just not worth the effort.”

You passed him a mug and he took a sip while you answered, “JJ never really seemed super interested either. I mean I was going to keep it chill this year too but he brought it up.”

“Cody said you had a whole bunch of homemade stuff.”

“Yeah, my mom brought it to me. I was thinking of making JJ do some of the ornaments to make it even but I’m not sure he’d go for that.”

Tyler snorted, “Man’s a simp, he’d do it for you.”

“Who’s a simp?” Cody asked, walking into the kitchen to take the second mug.

“All three of you,” you told him, grabbing the creamer out of the fridge for him.

He took a sip and shrugged, “Yeah, true. But who are we discussing in particular now?”

“JJ. Whether he’d made homemade ornaments,” Tyler responded.

“He definitely would,” Cody nodded, “I would too. Is that on today’s agenda?”

“It is not. But I mean, if you guys want to make us some in the future and mail them, I’ll gladly hang them on the tree.”

“Deal.”

“What’s the deal?” JJ asked, finally joining the rest of you.

“Nothing, drink some coffee and we’ll decorate.”

After the food arrived and everyone ate, Cody did in fact have a Christmas playlist queued, and he hooked it up to the speaker to blast in the living room. Tyler strung lights around, and JJ told you, “We should just keep these up after Christmas.”

By the time the two of you had struggled to get the tree put together and in a good spot, you added, “Maybe we don’t take the tree down either. We can just decorate it for every holiday.”

Tyler laughed, “Don’t be those guys.”

“We will,” JJ vowed, “we will absolutely be those guys. I just broke a sweat.”

“I will come back for New Years and start a riot if the tree is still up. You laugh like I’m joking, but I will,” Tyler told the two of you.

Cody was barely paying attention, reaching up to put an ornament on the tree when you stopped him, “JJ has to put the first one up.”

JJ gave you a weird look, “What? Why?”

“Bro,” Tyler told you, “lowkey this is a foursome.”

“No, it’s so not.”

“But, it kinda is. We’re taking JJ’s Christmas tree decorating virginity.”

“That’s so-” JJ paused, “okay the logic works a little but I don’t like it.”

“I hate you all,” you groaned, handing JJ an ornament and gently shoving him toward the tree.

“You don’t,” Cody singsonged from his spot across the room.

When everything was done, Cody turned all the lights off in the room and JJ plugged the tree in. Tyler flipped all the lights he’d put out on and the four of you stood in the doorway to take it all in.

JJ sighed, “Kinda love it. It’s going to be such a pain to take down, but it feels good.”

“A good family decorating day,” Cody added, “next year we’ll make ornaments.”

You laughed, “Sure.”

Wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, JJ hummed, “Gonna miss our Christmas this year.”

Tyler looked a little teary eyed, “Yeah, we can FaceTime though.”

“Are you crying?” Cody asked incredulously.

“It’s the hangover,” Tyler denied, wiping his eyes.

Cody rolled his eyes, “Sure it is. I’m gonna miss you guys too.”

“Group hug,” you said, holding your arms out. For the first time in a while and the last time for an even longer while, you hugged your boys close. You sniffled, pulling back, “Bring your girlfriends next time. They’re always welcome too.”

They nodded and left after one more hug. JJ and you sat on the couch, soaking in the sudden silence. You leaned into his side and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “Movie, sweetheart?”

“Please,” you answered, “Home Alone.”

day four of @obxmermaid‘s holiday challenge: decorating the tree

#pike!jj #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fic #outer banks #outer banks fic #obxmermaidholiday #frat!jj

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btsslowburnfic · 4 years

Text

The Arrangement Chapter 3

Series Summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.

Chapter Summary: Interview Round 1 and our first encounter

Previous chapter here

----------------------------- You bartended through the weekend without incident. You had honestly kind of forgotten about your strange encounter with Mr. Rude Dimples as you geared up for another work week. You arrived at your office job early Monday morning and headed to the breakroom. You loaded up on coffee and some fruit someone had sat out and went to your desk. At exactly 8 am you opened up your emails. You scanned through the work correspondence answering a few quick questions and queuing up some to answer after you checked on a few things. You then opened up your personal email and almost fell out of your chair when you saw **Google Calendar invitation: Job Interview. Very Personal Assistant. BTS Corporate Accept/Decline**

You opened it and lo and behold there was an invitation to a job interview this Thursday at Grindhouse Coffee Shop. You shook your head, so maybe it was a real job. Maybe. You were relieved to see the interview was in such a public location. You went into your work calendar and marked yourself out of office for an hour and half. You never took any time off so it wouldn’t be a problem. How does one prepare for a job interview for a personal assistant? You wondered.

You opened an incognito window and started researching job interview questions and also looked into what exactly BTS Corporate was. It was a media company who seemed to dabble in everything from modeling to music. You recognized two of the models immediately, JK and V. They were both well known in the modeling world and graced the covers of many magazines. Ok so this was a legit company. Cool. Cool. Oh my God, you thought. What if the position was to be an assistant to a model who was as hot as those two? You remained calm. You had bartended and been around hot dudes before. It would be fine. You would be fine. You kept the incognito window open as you returned to your actual job and continued to email and message colleagues about your projects. You also skimmed through BTS Corporate’s website to learn more about the company and spy on some of the other models and talent who they employed.

The rest of the day went by without incident and you were excited for two reasons: one, you had a job interview at a place that paid more than your two of your current jobs combined, and you had Monday night off from bartending. You headed home, looking forward to spending time with your family.

You rarely got to see your brother, who was in his second year of high school, and your sister, who was finishing up elementary school. You walked into the apartment, slipping off your shoes and work bag.

“Hey everyone!” You yelled and headed into the living room. Your sister and niece were doing their homework on the coffee table side by side. “Hey girls. How was school today?”

You got some noncommittal “goods” out of them and left them to their schoolwork. Your brother would be at cram school for another two hours. You walked into the kitchen where your aunt was preparing some food.

“Hello Aunt Vi,” you said, scooting around her towards the refrigerator to make yourself useful. “How can I help?”

“Hello [y/n]. If you could get the rice cooker ready and prepare the chicken that would be great.”

“You got it,” you responded, dutifully beginning the tasks you were assigned. You loved your Aunt Vi and were so grateful she was able to take the three of you in. The apartment was cramped and she did her best to make sure you all never felt like you were imposing. But, it was hard not to feel that way given the circumstances. You found your mind wandering back to the job interview. With that much money you could easily afford to either pay for a larger apartment for all of them, or pay for your brother to live at the school’s dormitory. You tried not to let yourself get too excited about it, you still weren't sure if it was a real job. And you had already had more disappointments in the past 5 years than you could deal with. You tried to keep it from making you pessimistic, but it definitely made you wary of most situations. Especially ones that seemed too good to be true.

“Suho called this afternoon,” she said quietly while chopping green onion.

You involuntarily flinched. “Oh? I’m sorry. I didn’t give him this number.”

“I know I know. He asked for you and wanted to talk to your sister.” She paused, “I told him to go to hell.”

It was always weird for you to hear your very proper aunt curse, but when it came to Suho, there was no escaping the rage she felt. And rightfully so.

You nodded your head. “Good. I’ll see about getting our number changed again.” You said, feeling like it was your responsibility.

She didn’t say anything in response and the two of you continued to make dinner together silently.

--------------------------

The rest of the week flew by. Office job, bartend, check on your siblings’ homework, check your bank account, pay your aunt, skillfully balance every cent in your checking account, sleep, caffeinate, repeat. Before you knew it, Thursday afternoon had arrived.

You walked into the coffeeshop. Grindhouse Coffee was across the city, near Club Tokki, so you had to watch your time carefully. You immediately noticed a large concentration of very attractive women with perfect faces and perfect tits. Damn. Were they here for the same position?

“Tokki,” you heard a voice call towards you. You turned and saw Mr. Rude Dimples walking towards you with a tablet in hand. Oh God, you had a nickname? “Rich Asshole.” you waved, smiling “It’s nice to see you again.”

He guffawed, clearly not expecting that. “I am conducting your job interview Tokki,” he loosened his neck tie. “You should watch your mouth.”

You raised your eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure my mouth is what landed me this interview since it clearly wasn’t my good looks” you gestured to the space around you. “And it’s ‘[y/n]’ not Tokki.”

He swiped his tablet. “Got you all checked in. I’ll let you know when it’s your turn.” He shook his head as he walked away.

Yoongi sulked at a booth in the cafe, his delicate lips pressed firmly into a pout. He refused to take part in the interviews or look at the resumes, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. So far he was unimpressed. It was like walking around work: a bunch of models who all looked the same. Who the hell would believe he would marry one of these women? He sighed. You shouldn’t judge someone based on their looks, he reminded himself. He kept one earbud in, lazily eavesdropping on the people in the cafe. A group of three women were sitting in the next booth over.

“I wonder what kind of job this is. It sounds like an escort service but like also a secretary.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I wonder if it’s for one of the models.”

They continued to prattle on about the job, how Namjoon has approached them, and stuff like that. Yoongi scanned his phone and looked over, Namjoon was interviewing one of the girls right now. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking out over the cafe again. Maybe he would grab a coffee. He pulled out his other earbud and got up to order his usual iced Americano.

“I totally think that’s what it is. What kind of loser has to pay for someone to date him?”

“Yeah. And it’s definitely not that guy,” she gestured over to Namjoon. “He’s hot. This guy is probably hella ugly. Like rich and ugly. Which I guess I could get over for the price tag.” The girls all laughed.

Yoongi felt his face grow red. That’s what all these women thought about him. Some rich loser idiot desperate for their attention and willing to sell themselves off for his and BigHit’s attention. He didn’t even want this. He didn’t need this shit. He headed towards the door. Fuck this place. Fuck these girls. Fuck Namjoon.

You looked up from your seat by the door to see a man around your age walking over quickly and pushing the door open hard. You shrugged, he must have realized he was late or something. You looked back to where he had been sitting and saw he had left his earbuds sitting on the table. You got up and walked over and saw that he had actually left his very expensive earbuds. Shit. You could probably catch him if you tried. You picked them up and headed for the door.

“Where are you going Tokki?” You heard Namjoon say as he got up from the interview table, clearly done with his latest interview.

“I’ll be right back.” You yelled, “Probably!” You amended. You had been spending the past fifteen minutes talking yourself out of the interview. You knew your office skills were mediocre, your mouth got you into trouble all the time, and you were so not as pretty as every other girl in there.

You peered out onto the sidewalk looking for the black hat and black outfit. Damn it. Wait. Across the street. You waited for the traffic signal to change and then ran across the street. By the time the signal had changed he was far ahead of you. “Hey!! Hey you!” You yelled, ever so inelegantly across the sea of people. There was no way he was going to hear you from where you were. His head was down and he was definitely in the zone. But, you were running and he was walking so you finally caught up with him by the next block. “Hey, you,” you pulled gently on the back of his jacket. “You…”

Yoongi turned to see what was happening. He had heard a woman yelling but assumed she would have been talking to someone else. He saw a girl around his same age and height standing there, panting slightly like she had just exercised. He was still upset from the whole cafe incident, leaving him short tempered and just wanting to get somewhere private. “What?” He asked tersely.

You stood eye to eye with him. This guy was good looking. And kind of rude. Oh well, you thought he had been in a hurry when you started chasing him. “Here,” you held the earbuds out in their case. “You left these on the table.”

He looked at you for an extra second, suspicion in his eyes. “Thanks.” He took them from you and relaxed slightly. “At Grindhouse?”

“Yeah.” You fan your face. Running in office clothing sucked. Ok. Well your business here was concluded. You stood there for another few awkward seconds.

Yoongi looked at the girl who was standing in front of him. He hadn’t seen her in the cafe, and he couldn’t believe she had run the few blocks to return the headphones. He tried to think of something to say. Small talk was not his strong suit. “Do you work near here?”

You huffed and puffed a little, still recovering from your unexpected jog. “No. I work across town.” You thought for a second. “Well during the day anyways. I do actually work near here at night though at Club Tokki.”

Yoongi put the earbuds in his bag. “What brings you to this side of town then? The coffee’s not that good.” He deadpanned.

You shrugged, “Eh, I’m supposed to have a job interview. I don’t know though. It seems shady and that place was populated with models who I think are also going for it. I think I’ll just get some of that coffee that you don’t recommend and head back to my day job.”

Yoongi stood there putting the pieces together. You were there for that interview. Normal-looking you who apparently already worked two jobs. He sighed, feeling like a creep for knowing more about the job than you did and knowing that it would be working with him. He rubbed along his jawline with his hand, “I don’t know. I think you should go for it. Maybe you’ll stand out.”

You laughed, “Because I’m ugly and sweaty?” You teased, you knew you were normal looking and could be pretty if you did your hair and make-up.

You thought you saw the tiniest hint of a smile as he replied, “Yes. Take your ugly face back there and apply for the interview and do better than those models.”

You rolled your eyes, “That was the shittiest pep talk I have ever had in my life but ok. I’ll march back in there sweating like a pig and do my best.”

“I wish you luck. Thanks again for the earbuds.” He said, giving you a polite wave as he turned and started to walk back to BigHit’s headquarters.

You laughed a little bit and decided, what the hell, you might as well go for it. You returned to Grindhouse, to the seeming annoyance of Rude Dimples.

“Finally Tokki, I was getting ready to give your time slot to the fucking barista.” He gestured to the table.

“Oh my God, you are so immature. How are you the one in charge of this interview?” You asked as you took a seat in the chair.

“I’m the boss of the company Tokki, if you don’t like it you might want to leave now.”

“One: From my research, as President and CEO, Hitman Bang is the boss of the company. You’re the CIO. Two: I’m guessing this isn’t an interview to be your assistant or I definitely wouldn’t be here. Three: it's [y/n]. So let’s get to the part where you ask me questions and I answer.”

Namjoon sat there for a minute, opening and shutting his mouth a few times in shock. He spread his hands out along the table. “Huh. I’ll give you that you actually did research on the company. Well done. Let’s begin.” NEXT CHAPTER

#bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts au fanfic #bts yoongi x reader #bts suga x you #suga x reader #suga x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #bts writing

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the-girl-in-the-box · 3 years

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Not Today XV

A/N: And here we have the first of the queued chapters! It’s a little shorter because I didn’t have much time, but still good, I think :) If you agree, feel free to leave a comment, and I’ll have the other queued chapter up Saturday! Skål!

Summary: When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.

Masterlist

If things were now strange between Ivar and Aethelind, neither of them acknowledged it. Hvitserk had finally been given word he was to leave Kattegat, and so the morning he was meant to leave, he had said his goodbye to Thora before going in search of Aethelind. Perhaps most men would have handled any business they needed to before leaving, but he had to be sure she was well warned against Ivar, before he could leave with peace.

He found her wandering through the market, just as she’d said she’d be at that time of the morning. When Aethelind saw him, she smiled sadly and walked to meet him halfway. “Hvitserk,” she greeted. “I take it you’re on your way?”

Hvitserk gave a nod, and sighed as he took her hands in his. “Ivar has sent me to speak with King Olaf. He wants to form an alliance with him.”

Aethelind nodded slowly and offered him a small smile. “I’m sure Thora will miss you,” she said. “I certainly will.” She gave his hands a little squeeze and he chuckled softly.

“I will miss you as well, Princess,” he said. “Please, keep an eye on Thora. Ivar isn’t happy with me, I don’t know what he’ll do while I’m away.”

Aethelind nodded a little. “You have my word, I’ll do all I can,” she promised.

“Thank you,” he said. “It seems he listens to you. But also, be careful of Ivar yourself. I don’t trust him, and I don’t trust him with you. He is crazy.”

Aethelind smiled softly at Hvitserk, and shook her head. “I still disagree,” she said. “Ivar isn’t crazy. He’s wrong, about a lot, but he isn’t crazy. I just hope he’ll listen to me enough to do what’s good for your people.”

Hvitserk nodded his agreement, before pulling her close and embracing her. “Take care of yourself, Aethelind,” he whispered. “And I will see you when this is all done.”

“When…” she began, and looked up at him with concern in her eyes. “Hvitserk, what are you planning?”

He didn’t answer her, simply took her chin in his hand and kissed her forehead. “Stay safe, Princess,” he whispered, and slipped away into the crowd.

Watching him go made her heart ache, her fear for him rise into her throat, and as she blinked, she blinked back tears which threatened to fall. Hvitserk would be fine, she was sure. After all, he was a Son of Ragnar. Of the four of them she’d known, Aethelind had no doubt that those boys were capable of just about anything they set their faces toward. It must have been the way their father had raised them. Well, for the years he’d been around, anyway.

Ivar and Hvitserk both had spoken to her of the years he’d been gone, the fact they had lived ten years of their lives without him. They’d almost grown up without a father, really. Perhaps Ubbe and Hvitserk had grown up enough with him, and Björn obviously had him through his entire childhood- as many years as he had on his brothers- but Sigurd wasn’t even a year Ivar’s senior. Those two…

She wondered how much they had really gotten to know their father at such a young age.

Nothing truly changed while Hvitserk was gone, not until a few weeks passed. Then… everything changed. And, as these things tend to go, it did not change for the better. In fact, things got much, much worse.

Freydis and Ivar were coming closer and closer to meeting their little Baldur every day, and the Queen herself didn’t tend to stray too far from the Great Hall. As he was a rather protective man, Ivar was becoming more sensitive to any words that could be taken as a threat to himself, his wife, or their as of yet unborn son. He had also grown rather protective of Aethelind, though there weren’t very many who moved against her.

So, when the statue in the middle of the town was found split down the middle, he panicked.

Someone intended to move against him. Who that was, exactly, he couldn’t say. But the pig’s head attached to the statue said enough. There was rebellion in the town- he had picked up on that much, had warned his people of it- asked them to speak to him or his men if anything was heard, but apparently…

Aethelind had been right. Nothing was reported about rebellion, about revolution, but the people were turning against him. She had warned him about asking his people to report anything, and now he was seeing the fruit of his decisions.

Still, this had not been something she’d call… paranoia. In fact, when Aethelind herself had seen it, her heart had stopped in her chest, and she’d gone immediately to find Ivar. There was no confirmation just yet that he was alright, that this wasn’t an announcement made to the town that Ivar the Boneless was dead.

It couldn’t be that. Well, of course it could have been, but Aethelind wouldn’t have known what to do if it was. What would she do if someone had assassinated Ivar? Take care of Freydis of course, somehow. Perhaps she would take her back to England, if things were dangerous enough for her there in Kattegat.

Whatever the case, there was no good in panicking just yet. She needed to verify if Ivar was alright or not before she began deciding what to do with Freydis. So, heart pounding, she ran as fast as her feet could carry her to the Great Hall. Ivar’s guards had learned quickly not to try and stop her from seeing the King, that he’d only have her let in regardless of what he’d instructed them anyway, and they didn’t try to stop her just then. They opened the door, let her inside, and wondered what was with the wide eyed look on her face, the panic in her eyes.

“Ivar!” she shouted, and her voice carried through the nearly empty hall. He didn’t come out, but Freydis did, a hand on her back as she did so. The poor woman seemed too pregnant at this point to be wandering around.

“Princess,” the Queen greeted with a warm smile. The moment she saw the fear in Aethelind’s face, however, her smile faded and concern crossed her features. “Aethelind, what is it? What is wrong?”

“Ivar,” Aethelind said. “Where is he?” She was panting slightly from the run, which only added to Freydis’s worry. Something must have happened, she knew, or she wouldn’t have been in such a hurry or a panic.

“He has stayed in bed today- his legs…” she began, and Aethelind was rushing past her before she could continue explaining anything.

She burst into the room Ivar shared with Freydis, and found him looking up at her with confusion written across his face. “What is it?” he questioned. He had come to know Aethelind well enough to recognize that sort of fear and worry in her.

When her eyes met his, she let out the breath she’d felt as though she’d been holding since she first saw the threat. He was alive, and he was safe. It hadn’t been an announcement that Ivar had been murdered, then. Everything was alright, for the time being.

“The Square,” she told him. “The statue… It’s been split in half down the center, Ivar. Someone pinned a pig’s head to it. I thought- I couldn’t tell if it was a threat or-”

“Or if I had been killed already,” he finished for her. Freydis and Aethelind both watched as Ivar pulled himself up with the chains above his bed. “Do not worry, Princess, I cannot be killed.”

“You can,” she countered. “I wouldn’t have been so worried otherwise.”

Ivar smirked a little as he looked up at her. “I need to go and see this threat for myself,” he said. “My armor.”

Freydis went to find it, but Aethelind immediately put a hand on her shoulder. “Rest,” she said. “You’re so close to having Baldur. I can handle his armor.”

“Thank you,” Freydis replied sweetly, and put a hand on her friend’s arm. Aethelind nodded and kissed the side of her head affectionately, before Freydis went off to do exactly that.

Watching Ivar get his armor put on- or doing it herself- was actually a rather stressful thing for Freydis. Because of this, she decided to go and oversee the preparation for the arrival of Baldur. This left Aethelind alone with Ivar.

After that moment a few weeks ago, this hadn’t yet been the case. Things had shifted so much between them, and Aethelind had spent most of her time with Hvitserk after that, creating something of a strange space now. Ivar had never experienced this sort of thing, not aside from what had happened with Margrethe, when she had come to fear him.

Part of him now worried that Aethelind feared him as well. Why she would fear him, based off what had happened, he couldn’t quite say or guess, but he thought the fear may have been there. Maybe it was what had happened at the Þing, maybe it was what had happened after the thing, but whatever it was, the space felt insurmountable to him, and he hated it.

He hated how suffocating the silence was in the room, now that Freydis had gone, and now that Aethelind had explained to him what she had seen, there was nothing more he could think of for them to discuss. He should have sought her out more, after what had happened, he figured. Maybe then she wouldn’t be so quiet as she gathered the pieces of his armor he needed to wear, maybe then they would be able to talk like they had before.

She brought over his vest and chestplate first, handing them off to him so he could put them on while she went to find the braces he wore on his arms and legs. By the time she had grabbed his arm braces, and returned to him, he hadn’t yet finished his chestplate’s buckles, so she handed him the arm braces, telling him, “Go ahead and put these on,” while finishing up the chestplate.

Ivar did as he had been instructed by her, but he watched her with a slightly confused look as she silently went about her work. Her brows were creased slightly as she was concentrating, and he noticed how her mouth hung just slightly open. His observations kept him from working very quickly, and so when she noticed this, she huffed.

“Do you want to get out there and see what’s been done or not?” she questioned, turning sharp eyes up on him. He couldn’t keep himself from swallowing a little. Being under that sort of gaze from her wasn’t the most enjoyable thing.

Still, it prompted him to ask, “Is being alone with me so bad?”

The question clearly caught her off guard, as she straightened up and blinked a few times while she watched him.

“Of course it isn’t,” she answered. “Why would it be bad?”

“You have spent all your time with Hvitserk, since the Þing. When he left, you turned to your training. You spend much time with Freydis, but never with me. Hm? Why is that?”

“I do spend time with you,” Aethelind tried to argue.

“Mm, you do not,” he said. “You have when I am with Freydis. But she, you will spend time with where no one else is there. But you avoid that with me as though I might bury an axe in your chest, given the chance to have no witness. Is that what you think I will do, Princess? Is that what you fear?”

Shock registered first on her face, and then confusion, at what Ivar had just asked her. “What I fear?” she repeated. “Ivar, I’m not afraid of you. You’re right, I’ve not spent very much time with you alone, but… I thought we’d probably both understand that was for the best.”

“For the best?” he echoed. “How was it for the best? You told me much of what was happening in England, and this was very helpful to me. You also told me what you thought of all the decisions I made at the Þing- your honest thoughts. Who else could I trust to do those things?”

“You can still trust me to do them,” she said, “but you clearly must have forgotten what happened that day. I don’t fear you, Ivar. I fear what we may do if given the opportunity.”

“What we may do?” he questioned.

“You held me,” she answered. “I allowed it. If I were married, and I found my husband holding a woman the way you were holding me… I would want to leave him. He couldn’t convince me he wasn’t having an affair with her. You can’t tell me you’d feel comfortable with another man holding Freydis that way.”

As if to prove her right, Ivar didn’t answer, and simply looked at his hands. She had started to put his braces on him, tighten them as they needed to, all while she spoke. The lack of a response from him was enough to convince Aethelind that she was correct in thinking what she did.

“I spent my time with Hvitserk and Freydis not because I no longer enjoy your company, or because I had come to fear you. I did so to keep that from happening again, to keep something worse from happening. You have a wife, and she is about to have a baby. If there even was a good time for you to enter into an affair, now would not be the right time. And I won’t be the ‘other woman’. I won’t do that to Freydis, nor myself. Your family needs you, Ivar. Be there for them.”

Her hands took his as she spoke those final words, and held him in his place. Her eyes again were focusing in on his, but this time, as she nearly pleaded for him to understand.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He understood this all too perfectly- after all, he had only been born because his father had once found himself in a similar place, and made all the decisions that led to this point. For his marriage to Lagertha, they had been the wrong decisions. For his own life, for the good of Kattegat, they had been the right ones.

That was being a King though, wasn’t it? He would always have to do what was right for his people, even if his heart and mind beat wildly against it. He had to be a commodity for the greater good of Kattegat.

“We can decide that will not happen,” he said. “I do not want to lose you, who I believe I have had on my side since we were children, to a strange moment that passed between us.”

Aethelind gave him a fond smile. Clearly, there was something about what he’d just said that she disagreed with, but found endearing that he thought that way. It was a rather strange thing to read in an expression, but he had learned hers well by this point.

“I wish it were that simple, Ivar,” she said genuinely. “I really do. I’m sorry it isn’t, truthfully. But, you deserve someone on your side who is there for no other reason than a desire to see you thrive, and succeed, and to see your people cared for as best you can do so. I want to be that person, and I intend to be. But it isn’t so simple to say ‘we won’t feel this way’. Do you know how much would be changed in the court of my Kingdom, if it were? I wouldn’t have been born, myself. I know my parents started the same, denying what they wanted but taking no measures to keep theirselves from taking it.”

Ivar tilted his head slightly, not understanding where she was going with this. Unfortunately for him, she didn’t decide to explain herself. She did sigh, however, and look back to him once she’d finished his arms. “Let me get your legs done, and you can ride out and see what’s been done,” she said, effectively changing the subject.

He gave a small nod, watching her as she did this. It was going to feel too long, the time she was in Kattegat, if they couldn’t be free just to enjoy each other’s company. But he figured this must have been some funny custom they had in England. Perhaps self restraint wasn’t taught the way it was to his people. (Not that they were all taught such a thing, but as the King, he’d had to learn.)

She didn’t take long to get his legs in the braces, having figured out how they worked when she’d taken a look at his injured legs, and then he was up with his crutch. He thanked her for her assistance with the armor, and she smiled, telling him he had been more than welcome to her assistance. He ended up offering her to come with him back to the square, even up on the chariot he rode when his legs bothered him, and she accepted.

After all, Aethelind had taken something of an advisory role in Kattegat. She may have been there as a contact for Alfred, first and foremost, but her mind was sharp and sound, and Ivar valued her ideals and input.

So, when she accepted, she rode back out to the square with him, and there she was witness to the way his eyes darkened at the sight, the barely contained rage in them. Again, she became witness to the man all his brothers- save for the late Sigurd- had warned her about. A chill ran down her spine, and she began to wonder if she shouldn’t pray for Ivar’s mercy on the town of Kattegat.

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