#ahhh starting off this week with angst

[hoshigray]

𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Is it possible to wish to be in the embrace of someone who makes you want to throw them off a cliff? You seem to think so, and the same goes for Gojo. But alas, good things always come to an end, even when not meant to be...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - implied fwb relationship - catching/awakening feelings - oral (m! receiving) - ball massaging + sucking - sex in a shared room; college dorms (alone) - cowgirl position on a chair - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, pretty, princess) - heavy depiction of a blowjob - cameos: Haibara and Ijichi - fluff + angst; misunderstandings - humor bc i'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: second part, let's goooo!! i loved ur support and comments from the first story, so hope y'all are excited for this part :DDD and ty so so so MUCH for 5.5k like??? i kiss you on cheek, every single on of you, hehehe~

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“If you’re not gonna help, then leave my dorm!”

“Ehhhh, hell no! It’s cold as fuck outside; you want me to freeze to death?”

“They’re…still going at it.”

“Yeah…give it a minute, and we’ll just go to the library without them?”

It’s coming down to the last week of January; university students are finally settling in with their new schedules and getting used to the groove of the spring semester. Or some run around trying to keep up with the new semesters and the change of weather already getting on people’s nerves, wanting nothing more than spring to come quickly.

Three weeks in, and you already have stuff to do, one of them being an argumentative presentation assigned by Professor Yaga in your Contemporary Issues class. You and three other people are tasked to find sources for a topic issue you find interesting and then present a discussion-based presentation on two sides of the topic (two people in favor and two people against).

Unfortunately, the groups were to be randomly assigned. Luckily, two friends you knew in the class, Haibara and Ijichi, were picked to work alongside you! However, the bad part was that another person you knew was assigned to work with you, and he happens to be the guy getting on your last nerves right now, sitting on your couch while clicking through the television channels with the remote. 

Your roommates weren’t home today. The club fair was occurring at the quad, so Mei Mei and Utahime had to go out and represent their clubs for the afternoon. Shoko is having an intense study session with Geto for an exam on the first of February, so they’re at the library now. 

That leaves you alone at your dorm, using this as a perfect opportunity to invite your group over to work on the project. 

“You can freeze your nuts off and become the next Jack Frost for all I care; if you’re not going to do your part of the work, get out!”

Well, minus you yelling at your partner, who clicks his teeth before turning to you. His round sunglasses shone from the light reflected from the living room windows.

Satoru Gojo was your number one nemesis within these campus grounds; this was a known fact to everyone, especially the other group members who nervously examined you two bicker. Being in the same space as him is enough to make you wish you could pull your hair out or put him in the nastiest headlock you could do. Worse, being assigned to the same group as him for your project almost made you want to rip your ears off. 

But you had to suck it up; at least you were the first group to start a presentation. Better now than worry about it later, right? 

“Pssh, fine, I’ll get up and—Oh! Wait, you guys have Digimon on Hulu? Ahhh, sick!” 

Nevertheless, you can’t say that when your supposed partner acts like a child glued to your TV screen instead of doing the work he promised to do. You grit your teeth with a twitching brow, “Why you…”

Across from the common area was the kitchen, where Haibara and Ijichi sat at the dining table. The two sophomores could do nothing but feel the tension between you and Gojo grow with every passing second, suffocating the younger duo. Haibara eyes Ijichi from across the table and whispers, “Wanna make a run for it now?”

The black-haired second-year didn’t reply, only a hurried nod before the two grabbed their coats and stuffed their laptops back into their backpacks. The sound of their zippers alerts your ears, turning to them to question, “Huh? Where are you two going?” 

Haibara takes it upon himself to deliver a half-lie as he zips up his jacket. “On second thought, Ijichi and I are thinking of taking the shuttle to the library to work instead.”

Huh? The library? Were they leaving because of the belligerence between you and Gojo? God, you hoped not. “Wait, you guys don’t have to do that. I already made you guys walk all this way here; it’d be rough to have you leave for somewhere else…”

Ijichi comes with the assist after putting the sling of his messenger bag around his shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/n. We found material from the library we could use as sources, so we’re heading up there to take some notes while they’re there.” 

“Yup!” Haibara exclaims in agreement, and the two walk past you to put on their shoes by the front door. “Maybe you guys can find sources of your own while we’re gone, and then we can converse and share what we found when we come back. Sounds good?” 

“I suppose so…” you couldn’t shake the feeling that they were leaving to avoid being in the same room as you and Gojo. The guilt is hard to endure since you didn’t mean to make the younger boys uncomfortable. “See you guys, then.”

“Cya!” And with that, the door closes on their way out, leaving you and Gojo alone in your apartment. 

Well, this is just great; you’ve driven your group members and friends away and are now stuck with the nuisance of a partner who still keeps his attention on the television. It takes everything in your power not to pop a vein. But with one calm breath, you steady yourself and stand tall. 

You walk in front of the TV, blocking it from Gojo’s view. The white-haired boy throws his hands up in exasperation, but you couldn’t care less. “What’s the big idea?” He questions you as if he has a right to at this moment. 

You cross your arms across your chest with narrow eyes. “Haibara and Ijichi just left.”

“Uhh, yeah, I heard the door,” he maneuvers his body to try and see the children’s show blocked by your figure. “Doesn’t have to do with me—“

“It does have to do with you.” You interrupt him, taking two steps and bending to stare him down. Your face is a foot away from his. “You’re supposed to be here to work with Haibara on the ’no’ part of the argument while me and Ijichi do our part. You’ve only been here for thirty minutes, and the only thing you’ve done successfully is take off your shoes at the door and read your manga books on the couch. 

Gojo chuckles – oh, how you hated his laugh – as he puts his hands behind his head, spreading his long legs from their crossed form. “You heard them, no? They’re going to research on their own and then come back. Besides, you know I’m not one to start stuff right away. I’m a procrastinator, remember?”

“You’re annoying; that’s what you are.” You straighten up with a heavy sigh.  God, I wish Utahime and Shoko were here. They’d help me out with this white garbage…

“Ahhh, lighten up, Y/n. It’s not like the presentation is on Monday; we got until Friday to come up with everything.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, smartass. And you’re right: I do know you. And I know you tend to do things at the last fucking minute. But not this time!” You watch him try to put his feet up on the coffee table, and you quickly intervene by kicking them off. 

“Tch. Look, you knew what you were getting into being partnered with me. And relax; those two said they’ll be back to discuss the material later. They already left – nothing I can do about it.”

Your hands rest at your hips, tapping your foot with visible frustration. “Oh? And I wonder why they left in the first place, Gojo. Mind telling me how?”

He quirks up a brow with a smug grin — a telling sign that you’d get ticked off with whatever he’s about to say. “I don’t know, Y/n. Why not ask the nagging control freak talking to me right now, huh? Maybe their short height and angry temper are affecting the mood of those around them to be miserable like them.” 

You almost did it — your hands nearly gave into your intrusive thoughts and were about to lunge at the snow-haired guy’s neck to wring around like a rag doll. But you played it off with a clap, rubbing the palms together to distract your temporary violent thoughts.

You sucked your teeth and turned on your heel. “Forget it. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

He scoffs, “Good, maybe your tiny brain needs it to calm down.”

“Choke and die, Gojo!” You say down the hall, already at the door of your shared bedroom. Before slamming the door shut, Gojo’s patronizing laughter can be heard to your dismay. With gritted teeth, you march to your bed to throw yourself on the mattress. 

“Ughhh. That Satoru Gojo,” you curse his name under your breath as if he’d hear you through the walls. “So unserious���”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

To be quite honest with himself, Gojo doesn’t necessarily hate you.

The white-haired boy lies on his side on Utahime’s bed, watching you nap. He did knock on the door – believe him, he did. He even gave you the good old ten-second rule, waiting for your response. But then you didn’t, which gave him the initiative to waltz in and see you in your slumber.

You slept so peacefully; your face at peace, and your faint snores were the only things his ears picked up on. It was as if your little nagging show from earlier was hard to comprehend when seeing your tranquil state in front of him. It used to be rare to see you like this. Keywords: used to be.

For the past two to three weeks, your relationship with Gojo has become more…intimate. Ever since he took your first kiss and drew your virgin curtains, the two of you have gotten a little closer than before — both platonically and physically. Something that Gojo never thought he’d experience with you, his tiny, cute frenemy. 

Gojo has known you since freshman year; you were two in the same enrichment group to prepare you to transition into college life. Personally, he wasn’t much for the program; he found it a waste of time, a mandatory prerequisite that he felt he didn’t need. He’s all about experience, wanting nothing more than to get on with his day, go to classes, hang with friends, and repeat. 

“Hello, my name is Y/n. It’s nice to meet you all!”

And then came you, the person sitting across from him at the round table your group would always meet at. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enamored by you the second he saw you. Gojo rarely finds someone who could easily pull his eyes to them — not saying the girls who’d usually crowd and admire him weren’t pretty. There was something about you that kept him wanting to know more – to engage more – about you. 

One thing he knew from you was that you carried your character with pride. Your achievements, your personality, your kindness, and your mannerisms — all of which were displayed elegantly and were a breath of fresh air to look at. You stood out to him more than all the other kids in the group, his eyes always finding a way to steer from the professor’s advice to your alluring, listening face. 

Another thing Gojo liked about you was that you weren’t afraid to stand your ground, especially when discussing with your peers or him. Sure, you were always respectful and would respect other people’s arguments. But, God, the way you said things so constructed and nuanced, it had the tall other glued to you whenever you spoke.

He’s not going to lie; he’ll admit that he’d try to tick you off and get you to get a little angry with him when it came to arguing. He couldn’t help it. He just liked the thought of you layering out of your poised appearance to the point you’d glare at him whenever you saw him in the halls. And it had him giddy knowing he’s the one that made you angry because you looked cute. 

And that was the other thing he really liked about you. The more you two interacted, argued, hung out with his friends, or attended classes together, the more Gojo’s fascination for you turned into that of a school-boy crush. He wouldn’t admit to anyone of this (minus Geto and Shoko if his life depended on it) because it certainly wasn’t something to be known. He was okay with what you two had right now, being the friend who loves to push your buttons to see you nag at him. 

That was until you two started sleeping together. Because holy fuck, the past weeks you two have been sneaking time to have each other’s bodies close made Gojo’s mind go crazy. So fucking crazy like the feeling of you on him is borderline addicting. Your whiny cries calling out to him when he scrapes your sweet spots, your nails scrape on his chest, your half-lidded eyes when you look at him, or how you whisper his name only for him to hear.

This was the kind of relationship you two brewed, a secret thing only between you two. And Gojo was satisfied keeping it like this because it was what you wanted. No need to flaunt it around; it was no one’s business. Besides, he likes having you to himself, seeing a side of you that only he could imagine and experience.

The sensations of your body under his touch, the various tunes of your voice, and the beauty exhibited in your gaze. It was all addicting. You were addicting.

“Who told you to lie on my roommate’s bed? You know she’ll kill you if she ever saw you.” 

It was so addicting that he didn’t even notice you awake until you spoke to him, the erotic memories of you clouding his brain dissipating at the indication of your voice. He smirks, “Oh, I’ll be fine; not like she can hurt me with her tiny self.”

You’re too groggy to roll your eyes, sighing as you turn to your side to face him from across the room. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost an hour,” he replies, switching to sit criss-cross on Utahime’s bed. “I got bored watching TV and knocked.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“Maybe twenty minutes?”

“Just watching me sleep?”

“Yeah.”

You let out a scoff, shaking your head. “Weirdo.”

He snickers at you for recognizing his silliness. “Whaaat? There’s not much to do aside from looking at you. I got bored of the TV.”

“What about your manga?”

“Got bored of that, too.”

“Anyone on your socials that you’d wanna talk to? Girls? Friends? Your teammates?”

“Mmm, nah, none I’d wanna talk to right now.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you mean ‘right now’? You make it seem like I’m keeping you from interacting with your outside life. If you’re bored, talk with whoever you want. Maybe bother Geto…No, nevermind, he’d probably be annoyed since he’s studying.”

Gojo examines you, silently removing himself from your roommate’s bed and treading towards yours. He takes off his sunglasses and places them on top of your dresser before sitting on his knees on the floor. He rests his hands and chin on the edge of your bed, his sky-blue eyes locked in with yours. God, you were so beautiful to look at. 

“I meant that I don’t want to talk to anybody.” Now that he’s closer to you, his voice dials to a whisper. “Not when I got you here to myself.”

He notices your brows drawing upward at the sentence. “To yourself?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, bringing a forefinger to trace your brow. A sensual touch not to startle you. “Just you and me.”

You give him a look as if you think he’s trying to pull something. “Don’t tell me you were making me mad at you earlier just so Haibara and Ijichi could leave, and I’d be stuck with you.”

His smile broadens with every word, his dimples out to see. “No, although I hate that I didn’t think of that myself.” His hand goes to your cheek for his thumb to stroke gently. “Would it have been a bad thing if I did?”

You don’t reply, only placing your hand on his. Your eyes are still on his blue orbs, and – you don’t know this because Gojo has the perfect view of you – the light from the window made them shine charmingly as it highlighted your face. 

“No…I don’t think so,” you murmur, gaze gradually venturing down to his lips. “I like being around you…Satoru.”

He heard his name leave your lips, an invitation to what he wants to do, his eyes fixated on your lips before closing them and drawing in closer. “Me too…”

The kiss was soft and gentle like he always starts with, waiting for you to give him the okay to kiss you again. And when you meekly lick his bottom lip, he gives in to your request and claims your lips again. 

Your moans were so sweet to his ears — his favorite thing to hear — especially when he becomes a little devilish and sucks on your tongue to make you whimper a little louder, turning him on even more. It serves as the perfect distraction for him to snake a hand into your shirt, his hand already making itself home and cupping your breast in your bra. 

You break the kiss with a gasp, and massages to your mound make your breath shaky. “Mmmah…you sneaky pervert,” you name-call him sweetly. 

“Can’t blame me; I just know that you like to have your tits played with.” Gojo sneers, tweaking your nipple to hear you gasp again. “Hey, remember you said you’d suck me off next time?”

“Huh?” The question threw you off before you could fall deeper into a euphoric haze. 

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, you promised!” He whines to you like a hurt puppy. “After I ate you out for twenty minutes straight last time, can I just have your mouth on my dick once?”

“I never told you to eat me out for twenty minutes!”

“You crying and telling me not to stop said otherwise!” He stands his argument, even if you warn him with a glare. “Just suck it, please. I haven’t felt your mouth in a while.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t expect to deal with his childish tendencies, but it is Gojo we’re talking about. You sigh, “…Fine, Satoru.” And then the white-headed boy beamed at the confirmation, immediately standing up and heading to your desk. It was an abrupt change of pace for a second until he brought your desk chair out. 

With glee, Gojo flings his jeans and boxers with ease, his half-hard cock out for you to see. He sits on your chair with spread legs, “I’m ready~.”

You roll your eyes, yet the smile on your face sneaks without you knowing while leaving your bed and crouching between his legs. “You’re such a big baby sometimes…”

Your hand finds its way to the body of his dick, gliding it up and down to feel the veins under your palm and fingertips. Gojo hums to your cold fingers, hitching his breath when you tease him with a blow of air. 

Your free hand comes to his balls, massaging his testicles in a way that has his leg jerk. He tries to fight it, but the squirm on his legs says otherwise. “Hahhh, fuck…quit it…”

“Hmm? What, you don’t like it when I tease you?” You peer up at him with a smug grin before using your tongue to lick on the glans slowly, and he covers his mouth before a gasp comes out after lapping on his frenulum. “But when you do it to me, it’s not a problem, huh?”

“Mmmph, shiit, Y/n—Ohhh…!” Another jolt of the hips after you lick and kiss one of his balls, teasing the skin with a kiss and tiny chews that would have him choke on his breath. “Jesus, fuck! Y/n, baby, you’re driving me crazy….Aishhh!!

“Oh, really?” God, you were such a fucking tease. But he fucking loved that so much. “What should I do?” You ask him before sucking on his balls again, and a hand comes to your shoulder to grip. 

“Mmmm…Blow me off, princess,” shivers crawl up his spine as you place kisses from the base of his cock towards the tip. “Please, I wanna feel you…” 

You giggle at his reply, finally taking in his cockhead to your pretty lips and sighing through your nose as you hollow your cheeks to take in more of him. 

Gojo sighs at your licks and sucks on his girth, his erection becoming accommodated to your oral cavity wonderfully. You unhurriedly prompt yourself to take in more of him until your lips reach his pubes, your throat now full of him, and the warmness of your gummy walls makes him squirm more. 

Bobbing your head at a moderate pace, you suck him off to that of a pleasurable cadence. You still use your hands to stroke him, Gojo melting to your touch even more. He throws his head back when you attack his tip again with the onslaught of licks and laps, the hand on his balls roughly kneading them jerks him to moan aloud. 

Fuck, it feels so fucking good having you suck him off like this. How your tongue moved up and down on him was so dangerous, prompting him to place a hand on your head for support. As if that would help, you don’t show him mercy when you suck him harder and faster. The noises coming from your mouth sounded so erotic and pornographic, the heat on his face brewing out more. 

“—Khhmm, fuck, man, I can’t…Ahhh! Y/n, I’m gonna cum if you keep licking it like that. Stop, st—Ahhaaa!!” 

But like he said before – you’re a tease (if not worse than him). You remove Gojo’s dick from your mouth and throat at once, the groan he exerts fueling the fire in your body. You stand to withdraw your shirt, bra, and panties to the ground, knowing Gojo’s watching every move. “Don’t get mad at me; I know how much you wanna cum inside.” 

You pull out the condom from the pocket of your skirt, placing the rubber on his cock after removing it from the wrapper. He couldn’t help but laugh, “Seems like you’re more of a pervert than me if you had that ready while those two were here earlier.” 

“Shut up,” you playfully kiss him with a sneaky bite to his bottom lip. Then, you mount and align your cunt on his dick, the glans kissing your wet labia. “Hmmm, fuck…”

“Relax, cutie,” he kisses you on the cheek while his hands fondle your breasts. 

You slowly descend your slit onto him, the tip of his cock pushing into the entrance of your vagina. A couple of exhales and inhales keep you steady when inserting him into you, not letting the pain distract you from the task at hand. And the both of you moan in unison when it makes it in, your hips leisurely coming down on him until your ass rests on his thighs. 

You grind on him with the roll of your hips, evoking choked intakes of air from him as a hand goes to your ass with vigor. His face to your chest while the other hand plays with one mound. His lips found a nipple to pop into his mouth to suck on. 

With a slow pace, you rock your hips onto him. Your legs bent for your feet to be on his knees, the chair solid enough to withstand you bouncing on Gojo’s dick with repetition.  

“Hoohhh, ohhhh, mmmm,” your hums are expressed in tunes. The curve of his cock is so fucking good, scraping your insides with precision. You couldn’t help but increase the speed just a little bit. 

Gojo keeps sucking on your nipple; the grazes of his teeth and pushing the bud up to the roof of his mouth only fuels more quivers to travel down your bouncing figure. Both of his hands now under your skirt to feel the flesh of your ass under his hungry grasp. He kneads your asscheeks with every thrust to your chasm, and your shrieks get louder by the second. 

“—Mmmph! Shit, shit, you feel so good, pretty,” he finally lets go of your hardened nipple, burying his face to your chest. “So fucking good for me…fuhuuuucck!

You could feel your cunt contract around him; every graze to your sensitive spots prompted your walls to grip around him. He hisses, looking up to see your expression as you ride him out. Fuck, you looked so good on top of him like this. He’ll add this position to the list of things to do again with you.

You peer down to see that Gojo is staring at you, and you quickly bring a hand to cover his eyes. “—Ahhahhn, d-don’t look at me like that! Yer soo embarrassing…!” 

He only chuckles at your shy demeanor, especially during this. But he humors you, not fighting your makeshift blind for him to see you wholly. He’s seen it all already — felt it all, too. And he could never get enough. 

“Ooooh, Satoruuu—Nnaaahh!” He loves how you say his name, your hand traveling to his hair to grab in tuffs. “Oh, fuck, ‘toruuu, I’m gonna cummm…!”

“—Hnngh! Yeah, baby?” Oh, he knows. The way you’re grinding to and fro on his pelvis tells him so. “Go ahead, princess. Clench on me and ride it out.”

And with that, your hips go to an erratic pace that has the both of you holding for dear life. The squeeze of your inner walls clenching on him almost makes him choke on his spit, the nails of his fingertips forming crescents on your skin. And you scream at it, slamming your ass onto him as you both climb up to orgasm. 

Within seconds, it hits the both of you like a train. This had to be Gojo’s favorite part of the entire thing, experiencing having your folds clamp and flutter around him as you cry for him. It took everything in his power not to come with you because he wants to have you on him a little longer. You just felt too good to let go — too addicted to your body to be done with one round.

When the contractions subside while your slurred howls get quieter, Gojo gives you a few minutes to let your body be free from the aftershocks. He knows your body is extra sensitive now, rubbing circles on your back and placing chaste kisses on your clavicle. You hum under his lips, letting the wave of your crescendo exude out from you quietly. 

However, since you wanted to be such a tease, why not be a tease back? At least, that’s what Gojo thought before he threw your cunt another snap of the hips, his cock jabbing into your delicate walls that haven’t recovered yet. A sharp cry comes from your puffy lips, the hand covering Gojo’s eyes finally freeing him to see you. 

He grins with hooded azure eyes, “Sorry, cutie, but I didn’t get to finish. Wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t get to have fun of my own, right?” 

You chew on your lip with trenched brows before bringing your face to his. “Don’t you get carried away like last time, Satoru.”

“No promises, princess~” he sings to your ear before humming into your lips. 

As mentioned before, Gojo doesn’t hate you — he just hates that he can’t fully express liking you. 

But having you on top of him like this, in his embrace, is a nice change of pace he’ll happily get used to.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Okay, everyone, class dismissed! Thank you for your time, and see you all on Friday.”

Professor Naga closes up the last class for today, and the students all get up from the seats of their elevated rows to pack up and leave. The clock is ten minutes before seven o’clock, the winter darkness already claiming the sky with a sheet of night. Students are either famished and heading to the dining hall for food, going straight to their dorms or homes, or staying behind for last-minute conversations.

Gojo was one of the latter, deciding to stay behind to chat with the group for a bit. After packing his backpack and putting on his coat, he slings from the table to jump to the row below him, where you were talking with Haibara and Ijichi. 

You watch his stunt, ready to lecture, “Jesus, Gojo, what’s all that for? You could’ve just walked around.”

“Ehhhh, why would I do that? That’s so lame.” He comes and bends close to you enough to slang his arm around your shoulders. 

But you click your teeth and try to maneuver away from his tall figure. “You’re lame,” you mutter under your breath.

However, Gojo’s ears perked with furrowed brows. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, you lame white furby!” You repeat yourself with a huff and the snow-haired student gawks at your brazenness. 

The two of you argue again; students passing by silently exit the class, others stand and watch, and Professor Yaga can only sigh at yet another altercation between you two. 

However, it quickly dissipates when Haibara laughs from his seat. “You two, there’s never a dull moment.”

You and Gojo blink at the dark brunette before removing Gojo’s hand from your shoulders. “Hmph, it’s not like it’s my fault; he’s the one who starts it.”

“Oh, what could I possibly do to make Y/n so upset with me this time?” He pushes up his sunglasses, snickering at the scowl you send him. 

Ichiji, being the passive second-year he is, meekly changes the topic from the row below you three. “On some brighter news, at least we did well on the presentation.” 

“That’s right!” Haibara happily agrees with the statement, leaning against the chair with his hands behind his head. “Professor Yaga seemed really pleased with our arguments; I don’t think he intervened even once. Plus, he said many good things about how we handled the topic. Nice one, team!” 

The raven-haired one hums at the other’s exclamation. “I think most of it goes to how Y/n and Gojo bounced off each other’s arguments. How you two pulled up examples from the articles yet remained dignified with your viewpoints was cool to witness. I even saw some students be engaged with the conversation, many amazed with how Y/n refuted Gojo’s arguments elegantly and respectfully.”

But most of all, what the two sophomores wanted to mention was that there was no yelling. To them, the professor, and all the students of this class, you and Gojo presented your presentation without a single tone of malice, no pointless teasing, no name-calling, nothing! It was a civil conversation between two opposing sides. To everyone’s surprise — and thankful stars — today was a success.

You chuckle nervously at the praise. “Oh, come on, you two, don’t let me and Gojo take all the credit. You guys did your part. Especially you, Ichiji; you were an exceptional help for my side and finding sources I could build off from.”

Gojo, on the other hand, rolls his eyes. “Psssh, don’t butter them up like that; without us, they would’ve failed this presentation big time. No offense.” He was forced to say that when you called him by his last name and hit him with your elbow.

None taken, the two younger friends say to themselves unbeknownst to each other. 

The tall one continues, “Besides, you were the one who did most of the work. I slacked off until the last minute when you whipped me into shape.” Gojo brings his hand on top of your head for a pat. The action surprised you enough to flinch a bit. “Nice work like always, Y/n.”

Were the stars aligned differently, or did Gojo just compliment you? It certainly took you aback, especially the two others who silently kept their observation to themselves. 

You could only look at his complacent look for a few seconds before you realized the warmth of your cheeks became stronger. Averting your eyes, you remove his hand from your head. “Thanks, Gojo…” you express gratitude. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

A cheeky smile, his dimples prominent to blind you. “Awww, would you two look at that? They’re complimenting me, too~” Another bump to the chest has him cackling like a child, and you shake your head with rolled eyes.

The two younger students observe the scene before Haibara forcibly stretches and yawns to catch the two’s attention. “Man, I’m so hungry; I skipped lunch to prepare for this presentation. Me and Ijichi are gonna meet up with Nanami at the dining hall. You guys wanna come?”

You instantly beam at the proposal; who are you to refuse a dinner with your friends? “Sure! I’d love to…Oh! Wait, let me use the restroom and fill my water bottle.”

You rummage through your backpack for your water bottle before exiting the classroom. The boys watch you descend from row after row, and Gojo says, “Don’t take too long; I’ll convince them to leave without you.”

“Hmph, go ahead and try! They invited me; I don’t know who told you to invite yourself.” You stick your tongue out at him before opening and closing the door behind you. 

Gojo watches you with a smile still plastered on his face for a few seconds before Ijichi makes a tiny cough to catch his attention, the sunglasses-wearing junior turning to look back down to the other two. He notes the albeit cheesy-smiling faces they harbor, and he lifts a brow. “The hell are you two smiling for?”

The raven-haired sophomore squeaks at the sudden firm tone, “N–Nothing!”

“Pfft, oh come on, Kiyo; let’s not act like we didn’t see what we just saw.”

Gojo catches the nuance of Haibara’s comment. “Saw what?”

“You’re over here talking about our faces, but you’re the one who’s smiling at Y/n as they leave the door?” The brunette sophomore sends a wink to his junior, whose face doesn’t change at the comment.

“And your point is?”

“Well, it seems — to me, at least —  there might be something going on with you and Y/n?” 

Gojo was prepared for that, opening his mouth to interject quickly. However, the dark-haired other beat him to the punch. “Now that you mention it, Gojo and Y/n have been kind of…stable? There's still the usual arguments, but those haven't happened as much since last week…”

“Right!?” Haibara points at Ijichi with exclamation, making the other second-year flinch. “For some reason, things seem to be a little quieter with the two of them now, not to mention them hanging out way more often. Everyone’s been talking about it; even Geto and Shoko asked if Gojo had done anything that made Y/n passive?”

“I asked Nanami about it on Monday; he thinks maybe Y/n finally knocked some sense into Gojo’s childish brain to have him be so civil to engage without yelling their head off.”

“Pffthaha, I wouldn’t go that far. Y/n did just kick him in the shin yesterday for scaring them from behind.”

“Ahh, yes, well, that was deserved.”

“You two realize I’m still standing right the fuck here, right?” No, they hadn’t because the two discerned the twitch of Gojo’s brow after conversing about the tall, white-haired boy. 

“But it’s true!”

Another voice enters the set, making Gojo raise his head, and the other two turn to their left. It was some girl and her friend. Gojo knew of her; she sat next to him during class. Again, he knew of her, meaning she had no significance to his knowledge.

And yet, she speaks to the three boys. “You and Y/n have gotten a lot more close these past weeks compared to previous semesters—“

“Real close, too!” Their friend adds on from behind. “It’s as if you two are like a couple.”

“So…Are you two….a thing?”

Gojo could tell from a mile away what this was. Obviously, the first girl has a thing for him — he can see the anxiousness from the twiddle of her thumbs and avoidant eye contact. Although he wasn’t interested, he couldn’t even answer the question the way he wanted. What the hell could he say: that you two are in a secret relationship? He knows you’d have his grave ready before he could finish that confession.

And he can’t say the two of you are in any relationship either; it’s not what you would’ve told them. To everyone else, you and Gojo are friends who would preferably be caught dead rather than lying in bed together. So, might as well keep that facade up.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he starts with the push of his sunglasses. “Y/n is a pretty good friend, and I’d like to keep it at that.”

Haibara and Ijichi turn from Gojo to look at each other and shrug. Before turning back, something caught their eye that caused the two sophomores’ skin to turn white.

Ijichi tries to prevent Gojo from speaking further. “G-Gojo—“

However, the tall one doesn’t listen. “I mean, sure, they got a nice personality and are independent…Kinda pretty, too, not gonna lie. But they’re not really my type. I mean, have you seen them? Just a little person who likes to find trivial stuff to yell at me over. Angry at the world around them, I’d say.“

“Go. Jo.” Haibara says the junior’s name through gritted teeth, bringing his hand up by his neck and drawing an imaginary horizontal line back and forth — a gesture for Gojo to not say anymore. But unfortunately, the sign wasn’t seen, and the words kept pouring out.  

“And to be honest, can you imagine? Me and Y/n, a couple? Jesus Christ, that would be fucking exhausting to deal with, especially with someone so boring and too uncute like them. I’ve seen prettier, been with better. I feel sorry for the poor bastard who does end up with them—“

“SATORU GOJO!”

Now — that sudden burst of yell from a loud, masculine voice — that was what got Gojo’s attention. It’s what got the attention of everyone else in the room. The snow-haired student jerks to look at the professor standing at the front, the older man with a deep frown. “What?

The professor doesn’t answer him. Instead, he points to the left of him with his chin with a huff. With common sense, Gojo turns behind him to see where the older man points. And at that moment, he felt his very being drop to the soles of his feet. Haibara and Ijichi took a slow breath in unison at the immediate tension.

Behind him stood you, a lone figure holding their water bottle within three arm’s length away from the group. But that was sufficient enough for you to have heard everything said. 

Breathing suddenly felt impossible for Gojo; his entire body was stiff under your gaze. His shades could hide his eyes, but he wasn’t sure it could shield the instant shame that slapped him across the face from you. 

And that was another thing: the look you harbored was indecipherable — the true definition of disengagement. There were no widened eyes, quivering lips, or shaky hands. You stood plainly and looked as though you were detached from the entire situation. And that was what scared him the most.

This was strike one.

He dared not move when you began walking up, and your eyes then shifted to ignore his presence. “Hey, Yu,” the brunette straightened his posture at the use of the first name. “I think I’ll have to decline on that dinner offer. I’m a little tired and have a paper I need to work on…Maybe next time?”

“Uhh, yeah, sure, no problem.” He answers with a sweat.

Wait a second. Gojo tries to call for you, “Y/n—“

“Ijichi,” but you immediately shut him down and directed your attention to the other sophomore friend as you put on your coat and stuffed your water bottle back into your bag. “Be sure to submit the presentation template and sources to the course site before the end of the day, please.”

“U–Uhh, already done, Y/n.” He squeaks while reassuring.

Wait, please. The tall one tries again, “Wait, Y/n—“

“Good.” You sling your backpack on, refusing to look at the person trying to talk to you. “Well, I’ll be seeing you, then.” And with that, you turn on your heel and head down the row to leave.

No, wait, stop— “Y/n, wait!” This was strike two. 

Gojo doesn’t hesitate to call out to you. At that moment, he follows you to the class steps where you were a row down left from the door. He grabs your hand without thinking, the size of your palm captured by his slender fingers. He knew it was a risky move, but he had to — he had to get you to talk with him right now, if not ever. Because the latter is something he isn’t ready for, something he didn’t think would be a possibility.

And yet, he will learn this lesson of being prepared for the impossible when you rapidly turn to him. Strike three.

SLAP!

Have you ever seen someone get smacked in the face so hard that their sunglasses come off? The remaining two girls who witnessed it know for sure now. Haibara and Ijichi won’t admit to it as they immediately turn to the other side of the room when they saw your hand move. But please believe they winced at the sound of the impact. The same goes for Professor Yaga, who was too stunned to speak, yet it was a valid outcome. 

Gojo didn’t move a single limb, allowing the stinging feeling on his cheek to course through his facial muscles. His eyes were glued to the carpeted ground; he knew that’s where they were supposed to be. And you snatched your hand away from his grasp, leaving his fingers to suffer in forced loneliness.

“You…you think it’s all fun and games to say stuff like that when I turn my back for a few minutes, huh?” He can see your hand palpitate from his peripheral; the anger depicted alone was enough to interpret. And the tremble in your voice? It felt like an arrow to his being. “…Look at me.”

He’d be a fool to have you repeat yourself; he has lost that right to toy with you now. With a slow inhale, Gojo rotates his head at you, azure eyes tracking up your figure to your face. And when it lands at that destination, his heart is shot down.

Tears stream down vexed, watery eyes. Your brows furrowed, and your bottom lip chewed in a terrible attempt to stop it from quivering. The rise and fall of your shoulders as you moderate your breathing, trying so hard not to let your temper dwell into a deeper phase of ugly. It was bad enough you’re crying in public, in front of your peers, your teacher — and it was because of him. 

“From this day forward,” you fight your sniffles to say your statement as clearly as possible. “Don’t you ever talk to me, Satoru Gojo. Enjoy your life without something as boring as me.”

And with that, you dismiss yourself from him and the class altogether, the room silent even after the slam of the door closed. No one says anything, too shocked from the event to utter a letter. 

The silence aids the ringing in Gojo’s ears, his breathing still having trouble maintaining a balanced front. The cheek you slapped burned with pain; he’s sure the skin is as red as a cherry. 

Oh, fuck.

He brings a hand to his face, his body fighting the trembling. The ringing in his ears worsens, along with the pounding in his head that beats like a drum. His eyes stuck to the ground below him, choosing to focus on something inanimate and not living. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

All he could think of in this time and place was you. Memories flashing right before him, of you and only you. He can hear the way you say his name, both in vexation and in sweet tunes. Your smiles, your frowns, your huffs, your whispers. When your eyebrows scrunch whenever you express worry for him, how you’re never afraid to stand up against him when making a point, the smile that’s been blinding him for many days and nights — the smile he wouldn’t mind seeing for eternity.

All those memories were one stab to his heart after another. And every time a recollection ended, a flash of your crying face would return to haunt him. Tears that weren’t meant to be there but were, and warm feelings you expressed with him were gone the moment he saw your eyes void of feelings for him. At least, that’s what he saw.

He hurt you. That was the only revelation that haunted him where he stood, making his voice falter from confidence. It was a revelation he never meant to bring about. And now that it exists and he sees the damage, nothing would be better for him now than the ground beneath him swallowing him whole.

“What…the fuck…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : idol!Lee Minho x F!Reader TW : pregnancy ; unplanned pregnancy ; Minho is a jerk ; general angst ; fluffy ending ; Word Count : 6.3k Request : AHHH THANK YOU!! im happy that you like my request🥺🥺🥺🤍 hm bang chan would be good! he’s my bias after all HAHHAH buttt honestly speaking, i’d more than love to read about seungmin’s, minho’s or felix’s too <3 take your time!! A/N : the Minho gif came from this blog!!

Late… You were rarely ever late. You always kept track to make sure that you were on time and this month was no different. The little alerts had gone off from your calendar, and it’s not like you were under a lot of stress or anything that would cause any shifts… You were just… Late. 

The first day hadn’t exactly bothered you as much, the second day began to worry you, but now you were a week in and you still hadn’t gotten it and you were starting to panic… At least to yourself. Your boyfriend, who was usually just as on top of your monthly cycle as you were, was busy with his own schedule, making sure that he was prepared for the group's next big comeback. He didn’t have time to worry about something like this… That’s why you did your best to keep your panicking to a minimum when he was around. It’s not like you knew for certain anyway… Not yet at least. 

“Going to the store… Need anything?” You asked from the doorway, already slipping your shoes on. He was sitting on the couch, he looked so comfortable, you didn’t want to bother him by even letting him know where you were going, but you also knew that if you left without a word it would worry him. 

He looked up, running his hands through his hair as he let out a small yawn before shaking his head no. “You want me to go with you? You know that I don’t like you carrying a bunch of bags in by yourself, especially if I’m literally right here to help you do it.” He was already starting to get up off the couch, but you held your hands out, waving them at him before motioning for him to sit back down. 

“Lady things… I have to get lady things. That’s all. Just one bag.” You held up one finger, and he slowly sunk back into the couch, watching you grab the keys off the hook. He was clearly questioning you, the way you reacted, his eyebrows lowered and his eyes narrowed as he stared, and you didn’t want him to think too hard about it so you quickly ran over to him and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I love you, I’ll be back soon.” 

He hummed against your lips, and you felt the corners of his pull up before you pulled back, his hands firmly grasping your waist. “Love you too, babe… Be careful. Call me if you need anything… Okay?” You nodded in agreement before backing up and going back to the entryway, going back to putting on your shoes before going out the front door and taking a deep breath. You had dodged a bullet there… But there was a bigger one coming, the size of a missile, and you weren’t sure if you’d be able to dodge it now. 

You sat on the edge of the bathtub, the tests lined up along the back of the toilet, all of them face down. Thankfully Minho had been called into work at the last minute, and while he had been grumpy about it, you promised him dinner when he got back home and that had made him calm down enough to not question why you were trying so hard to get to the bathroom so quickly. 

The five minutes that it said it would take on the box felt more like 30 as you watched the timer on your phone slowly countdown. Your legs were bouncing nervously and you tried to focus on literally anything but your phone and the little white sticks that would inevitably decide your future. You couldn’t be pregnant… Right? Of course, there was always the chance… And it’s not like you and Minho had used protection the last couple times that you did it. Not that the both of you were trying… But with his busy schedule, the last thing that the two of you thought of was making sure to keep things like this happening. Whenever you had the chance to be together, you both were going at it… And that’s why you were sitting where you were at right now, chewing nervously on your fingernails as the timer on your phone got to 3… 2…1…

You stopped the alarm before it could go off and flipped the sticks over. Your breath had been held the entire time, and once the sticks were turned, it felt like you were going to be sick. Bright pink double lines seemed to be staring up at you, perfectly contrasted by the bright white of the stick. This wasn’t what you wanted to see, it wasn’t what you wanted at all, at least not right now… But here it was… The answer to your question as clear as a neon sign in your shaky hands. 

Even with the tests, it took you another five minutes after staring at them to really comprehend what was going on, to truly let it set in that this was not a dream and you truly were pregnant. It’s crazy though how, you had always wanted children, it’s not like the thought of being pregnant was inherently bad for you, it’s just the fact that it was so unplanned and you weren’t sure how Minho would take it. He had never said anything against you having his children, he even seemed to get slightly excited when the prospect of it was brought up… Why were you worried? The both of you knew that you were each other’s person, there was no one else that either of you could see each other even tolerating. He’d be fine… Maybe a little bit shocked at first, but fine at the end of it all. 

The front door clicked with the undoing of the lock and then the sound of keys jingling as he pulled them from the keyhole and pushed the door open, the entire time your head had been perked up to watch him come in. 

Dinner had been prepared, the table set, the pot on the stove set to a low simmer just to keep the food hot when he came in. You wanted everything to be perfect for him, his mood would… should be just right for when you delivered the news. “Dinner smells amazing, darling.” He commented from the front landing, pulling his shoes off before falling down onto the couch beside you and immediately pulling you close to him. “Have you eaten yet?” He murmured as he hugged you tight against him, his face buried in your hair. 

“Mnn nn…” You mumbled out your answer against his chest, pulling back enough to look at him. His eyes had bags underneath, he looked tired, but other than that he seemed happy, he looked happy. “Do you want to go eat now?” You chirped, the nerves kicking in now, knowing that if you followed your own plan, you’d be telling him very soon. 

“Yes please.” He practically groaned, his head falling back before his arm was pulled away from you and he got up off the couch, grabbing your hands and pulling you to your feet as well and then ushering you to the kitchen. “So what did you do today? Looks like you cleaned a lot… You didn’t have to do that. I like cleaning with you.” He pulled his chair out and sunk down into it as you transferred the pot from the stove to the middle of the table. 

“You were called in so randomly, I didn’t want you to have to worry about anything else when you came home…” You gave him a small smile as you sat across from him, moving the spoon in his direction so he could eat first. “Did they work you too hard today?” 

He snorted softly as he lifted the spoon, filling his bowl with the soup before looking up at you. “As hard as they usually do, yup.” He commented through his chuckles as he took a bite, his eyes closing and a muted moan coming through his closed lips as he chewed. “You must’ve worked yourself very hard today, this soup is amazing.” 

You sighed softly, your cheeks rising slightly with a smile as you thanked him quietly. “I have uhm…” Your heart was beating so loud, but you knew that you had to tell him, this wasn’t something that you could just hide from him until the baby came out in 9 months. “I have news… to tell you…” 

His eyes lifted from his bowl, his chopsticks pausing just outside his mouth as he stared at you. “What is it? Are you gonna come to the comeback show?” He asked, and you nodded in agreement to his question although that wasn’t the news that you were going to tell him, but you had been planning on going. “Perfect. I’ll do way better with you there, darling.” 

“I have… more news to tell you.” You whispered, dropping your hands from the table to nervously rub your thighs, your palms becoming sweaty just from the buildup to this. His eyes were bright as he looked at you expectantly, waiting for the news to leave your lips. “I’m… I’m pregnant.” You breathed out the words, your heart frozen as you waited for his reaction. 

He blinked once… twice… the sparkle in his eyes fading every time they closed and reopened, his smile slowly dropping until his lips were set in a straight line. “Okay… And?” The reaction was… definitely not what you had expected. You didn’t even know how he was feeling, his words, his face, it gave you no answer. 

“I just… wanted to let you know…” You murmured, dropping your eyes back down to your soup bowl and finally taking the first bite. He was still looking at you, you could feel it even, and then he let out a sigh, his chopsticks hitting the edge of the bowl had you slowly glancing up at him. 

“Picked a really good time to tell me… I have so much going on already and now I have to worry about this.” He grumbled and your eyes wavered as you tried to process what he was saying, what he was talking about. It’s not like he was the one carrying the baby, there wasn’t even anything that he had to do right now. 

“Just… pretend I didn’t tell you…” You looked back down into your bowl, stirring the vegetables as you shook your head. “I’m sorry… I should have waited until after the comeback.” 

He ran his hand through his hair, leaning back in his chair. “My entire life is busy, Y/N. I don’t have time for a kid, I don’t have time to worry about this.” He motioned to you, but his hands were slightly lower and you knew that he was talking about the baby. “I won’t be able to sleep, I’ll… I mean… What the fuck.” 

Now you were blinking blankly at him, your heart frozen in the deepest pit of your stomach. “Wh-What do you want me to do? I’m… I’d wake up with the baby… I’d take care of it… I don’t… I don’t know what you want me to do. I thought…” Your breathing was becoming heavier and you shivered under his intense gaze. 

“We’re not married… hell, we’re not even engaged yet! What will the company think? Do you know what they’d do to me? They could kick me out of the group! And my family… Oh my god. I already have three cats to take care of and… I can’t do this.” He pushed away from the table, going straight to the door, not even putting his shoes on, just picking them up off the floor and heading out the door like he couldn’t wait to be away from you, leaving you at the table gasping for breaths as tears streamed down your face. 

Minho had gone to the dorms, going to his only hyung for advice on what to do. Of course, Chan was more level headed then any of the other guys would be, he saw things from every direction, every perspective, and after listening to his advice for over two hours, Minho knew he had made a mistake. He had been with you for two years, not on and off, a straight two years, he was absolutely head over heels for you. It’s not even like he didn’t want children, he did, and he wanted them with you. Having it all laid out for him like that, it really opened his eyes. 

Two days, he only stayed at the dorms for two days and one night, giving you the time he assumed you’d need to calm down because he was sure that you’d be angry at him. He couldn’t even imagine how you must’ve felt and he’s been kicking himself over it every hour, every second of every day. He had tried to text you, just to check up on you to see how you were doing, but you didn’t respond. He understood. He had tried to call you at night, he listened to each ring until it finally went to voicemail, and that too, he understood. You didn’t want to talk to him… He’d just have to suck it up and deal with it. 

Street lights illuminated the road as he drove back home, and he was sure there wouldn’t be dinner waiting for him like there was the night that he had left. Of course, he shouldn’t be expecting it, he shouldn’t be expecting anything of you after what he had said. He was expecting you to still be there though, that was the one thing he hadn’t been prepared for. The house completely empty of your physical presence, yet the pictures still hang on the walls. You had been there, but you were gone now. A thorough search of the house only proved what he already knew. 

His phone was immediately pulled out, texting you again to ask where you were, and when a response didn’t come in within five seconds, he was calling you and leaving messages until your voicemail box was full. Were you doing the same thing he did? Maybe you were just going to be gone for a day or two and then you’d be back. He sent one more text. “Darling, I’m home. I know you’re upset, but I want to talk to you. I’ll wait for you.” 

And wait he did, for a day, then two, then a week… Then a month, then two, then three… You weren’t coming back. He had called your parents and they had told him that you weren’t there, although he was sure they were just lying for you considering they didn’t sound worried. They were covering for you, you didn’t want to see him. That didn’t stop him from going over to your parents house to try to see you though. Every time he did, the door would be cracked open, just enough for someone, anyone but you to peek out and tell him that you weren’t there. 

He was getting pissed, especially during the one trip he made during the winter, six months after you had left without even a single word spoken to him since, your snow boots clearly sitting on the front porch. “Just let me fucking see her! I know she’s here!” He shouted, slamming his fists against the door to try to push it open, but your father pushed against him and swiftly locked it, leaving Minho a frustrated crying mess on the porch. 

The worst part was not knowing what was going on, not knowing how you were doing, not knowing how the baby was doing. Were you still even pregnant? He hated not knowing, but the worst part was that the one thing he did know was that it was his fault that all of this was happening. 

He became absolutely ruthless during practice, laying into anyone that messed up a routine, yelling if someone simply even misstepped. He couldn’t help it, it felt like he was in shambles, his entire life was falling apart. He was going to be a dad, that much he knew, but he didn’t know anything else and that made him feel worse. 

“You need to calm down.” Bangchan said as Minho stood off to the side, breathing heavily after practicing as hard as he could, the only thing that kept his mind off of you. “Have you tried calling around the OB’s? Maybe they’ll tell you which one she’s at and you can meet her there.” 

“That’s fucking stupid.” Minho muttered, running a hand through his sweat drenched hair. “They’re not going to give me that information, you know that. She doesn’t want to see me anyway… I’m gonna have a kid in a month… if it’s not already here yet… And I don’t know anything about it.” He was huffing, it almost sounded like he was hyperventilating. “Just leave me alone… I want to be alone.” 

“You’re being hard headed. Have you tried to talk to her at all?” Bangchan foolishly questioned, and Minho whipped his head in the leader's direction, his jaw set and his fists clenched at his sides. 

“The fuck kind of question is that?! Of course I’ve tried to talk to her! I’ve almost had the cops called on me at her parents house because I tried to get in. I’ve tried everything!” He shouted, pushing against Chan to try to get him to the door. “Leave me the fuck alone. I want to be alone.” 

There was nothing else that Chan could say as he was literally being shoved out of the room. He knew this couldn’t go on any longer though. Minho could barely even sing, they were in the process of recording a new album and it seemed like he would read into the lyrics of every single song and find a way to attribute them to you. He’d start crying and having to take breaks, but his dances were almost violent… He was becoming violent. 

You sat in the rocking chair in the nursery that had been set up in the guest room at your parents house, looking over the ultrasound pictures of your daughter that was bound to come out any day now. Your parents were out right now, both of them working while you were on your break from working at home. It was one of the many perks of your job. When you had gotten further along in your pregnancy your boss told you to just stay home, allowing you to take your work laptop home with you. 

Just as you were about to head back into your room/office to get back to work, the doorbell rang. The last person you thought it would be was Minho, he hadn’t tried to see you since December and it was February now. It had been almost 2 months since you’ve heard his voice shouting from the other side of the front door. That’s why you got up as fast as you could, waddling your way down the stairs and pulling the door open. 

“Jisung?” You said, although it was more of a question as you stared at the sheepish man on your porch. “What are you doing here?” You looked around, checking to see if Minho was there as well, but Jisung shook his head as if he could tell what you were thinking. 

“He’s not here. It’s just me.” He said, and then you felt his eyes scan over you, slightly bulging when they landed on your stomach. “You uh… You’re like… Pregnant pregnant. When are you due?” 

You rolled your eyes, leaning against the door and shaking your head at his question. “Why are you here? Seriously… I don’t need you to be Minhos minion. He chose this, he left, he didn’t want her so he doesn’t get me.” Jisungs lips parted into a small ‘o’ and you mentally cursed yourself for letting that small piece of information loose. 

“It’s a girl? Wow… a niece…” He whispered, but he let out a small sigh. “I’m not here for Minho. I’m here because of Minho. He’s being an ass, he’s actually scary. Not even I can calm him down, and he went off on Chan yesterday.” He seemed so nervous being there and, after 2 years of being with Minho, you knew the rest of the guys just as well as you knew your boyfriend. Jisung surely wasn’t enjoying this, and you felt bad for him. He had come here on his own to try to talk to you, to save the rest of the guys from Minhos rage. 

You stepped back from the door, letting him through and showing him to the living room. “Let me just tell my boss that something came up…” You sighed, waiting for him to sit down before waddling into the kitchen and texting your boss. Out of all the guys, you knew Jisung the most, you had hung out with him and Minho the most, you were closer to him than any of the other guys and that’s why you felt a little less uncomfortable with him being here. “Do you need anything to drink? Water? Tea?” You called from the kitchen and he shouted out a ‘no’, but you still grabbed two cups and filled them with water before returning. “What’s he been doing?” You asked, letting out a little grunt as you lowered yourself down into the chair. 

Jisungs hands moved out as if to help you, and you shook your head, letting out a little giggle once you were settled in. “He’s… He’s vicious. He yells at everyone and he’s so short fused… It’s scary. He’s scary.” His hands slid over his face before his palms slapped against his lap. “He misses you and he’s angry with himself and he’s taking it out on everyone else. We don’t know what to do… just… Can you talk to him? Please?” 

You knew that this was coming, you knew the request was going to come, but you didn’t know things were this bad for them. You felt awful, and it’s not like it was directly your fault, but you were the only one that could fix things. “Fine…” You relented, taking a deep breath before holding your hand out. “Let me use your phone, I left mine in the kitchen.” Jisung nodded, about to get up from the couch, but you shook your head. “No… I want to use your phone. I don’t want him to know my number.” You pushed your palm out further and Jisung looked a little dumbfounded at your persistence but let it go, pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing Minhos number. 

“He’s her father… What if he wants to keep in touch with you to know about how she’s doing?” Jisung asked quietly as the phone rang. It was put on speaker phone in the center of the table so that you both could talk and you both could listen. “I think you should let him have your number.” 

“He said he was too busy for this life, again, it was his choice and I’m just following through with it. I’m doing him a favor.” You hissed, not wanting him to hear you immediately just in case he did answer. “He can’t just say what he said and then decide later that he messed up.” 

“It wasn’t decided later though, it only took two days for him to come back and realize he screwed up. You were already gone.” Jisung retorted and your mouth snapped shut as you leaned back further on the couch, your arms wrapping around your stomach to cradle it. 

“You don’t understand what it felt like… for him to just decide that he didn’t want this and walk out… that hurt, Jisung. He put the company and the group first, and fine… he knew you guys longer… I get that… But this is a child and it’s my child… and I’m gonna protect her.” You whispered, a soft sigh flowing through your nose as you looked at the phone that was still ringing in the middle of the coffee table. “He’s not answering. This was pointless. I think you should go now.” 

“For fucks sake, I thought you’d give up if I didn’t answer on the first three rings.” Minhos voice rang through the speaker and the sound of it had your heart stopping. He sounded so… angry. You had never heard him sound like that before. “What do you want? Make it fast, I’m busy.” 

Jisung looked at you but you shook your head, motioning for him to talk first and he rolled his eyes, leaning forward to be closer to the mic. “I’m uh… I’m over…” He looked to you and you shook your head faster, your eyes wide, knowing that if Jisung said it right now the call would end and Minho would be racing over. “How are you feeling right now? I was wondering if you wanted to go meet up for coffee or something?” 

Minho scoffed loudly and you heard the light shuffle of his feet and heavy breaths, he must’ve been practicing again. “How am I feeling? Like shit, Jisung! I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t know what she’s doing, I don’t know anything about the baby. Does she still… Is she still pregnant? Did she have the baby? Did she have to do it by herself? I don’t know shit and I’m losing my fucking mind. So no, I don’t want to meet up for coffee, I don’t want to do anything.” 

Jisungs teeth gritted together nervously as he stared at you, but you were silent, your eyes staring down at the little waves that moved in your stomach from your daughter kicking. “She didn’t have her yet…” Jisung murmured, and your eyes widened as they shot up to look at him. “What? What am I supposed to say?! You won’t say anything!” He practically shouted at you and you felt your chest tighten as angry tears threatened to fall. 

“What am I supposed to say!? I haven’t talked to him in 8 fucking months!” You shouted back, your face falling into your hands as you took a deep breath. You heard nothing from Minhos end though, an incredible silence coming through the speakers before he cleared his throat. 

“Are you… there? You’re with her? Is that Y/N?” Minho stammered, and then you could hear a gust of wind as if he were running, and you knew that if he was, he’d probably be at your front door in an hour or less. “When… Why are you there?! What are you doing there?! Why are you with her?!” 

You rolled your eyes at his screaming and Jisung threw his hands up in disbelief, letting his head fall against the back cushions of the couch. “Because you’ve been an asshole and they came to me hoping that I could cure you of that.” You answered and you heard Jisung snicker to himself at your response. “What crawled up your ass? Why are you taking it out on them?” 

“I…” Minho started and you heard a car door open and then slam shut as the engine roared to life. “Well wouldn’t you be pissed if you had a baby and you haven’t gotten to see a picture and ultrasound… I haven’t heard a heartbeat or anything! I’m pissed!” You heard the phone hit the steering wheel as his car peeled out of the parking spot. 

“Don’t hold your phone and drive, idiot!” You scolded and as if on command you heard the phone get thrown onto the passenger seat. You huffed loudly before speaking. “You walked out on me, you chose your job. I wasn’t going to force you to be a parent when you clearly weren’t ready to be one.” You explained, and you heard him groan loudly through the speaker. 

“I was gone for two days! You were gone when I came back! You’ve been gone for 8 fucking months!” He screeched, and then you heard him slam on the brakes as horns went off all around him. Your heart stopped momentarily before he started ranting out curses at whoever had messed up on the road. “I thought we’d be able to talk about things but no! You went to your parents house and had them lie to me! I almost had the cops called on me just to see you!” 

You quickly covered your mouth to stifle your laughter, remembering the look of shock on his face as you watched from the top window. “Well you tried to punch through the door! You scared my dad!” You said between giggles, and even Jisung started to chuckle now. 

“It’s not funny! Do you know how many restraining orders I would have broken to see you and the baby?!” He screeched, but even he seemed to be calming down, the lengthy breath he let out shook with silent laughter. “So how are you feeling?” 

The sudden shift in tone had you pursing your lips, hating to admit to yourself that you missed him. You missed the goofy bickering, the way he cared about you, the way he’d look at you as if you were the only woman in the entire universe. “I’m feeling- What the hell?” The line went dead before you had the chance to finish, and you knew how Minho drove when he was in a hurry, your heart lurched into your throat as you moved to get up off the couch. “H-Help me up…” You reached out your hand to Jisung who began to panic when he saw you. 

It’s not like you knew the first thing that you were going to do, but you were gonna go out on the road to look for him, to make sure he was okay. “Yeah… Yeah I’ll get your shoes just… Hold up…” Jisung stammered, looking around the room cluelessly until you pointed to the little cupboard box near the entryway and he rushed over, grabbing the first pair of shoes he saw. 

The click of the front doorknob turning had you immediately defending yourself and Jisungs presence. “It’s okay dad… I’m gonna be back soon. I have to go find Minho… I think… I’m worried about him and I still love him and I want him to be a part of her life…” You explained breathlessly as you tied your shoes before sitting up once more and turning to look at the door. 

There Minho stood, his eyes squinted with the cockiest smile as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “Never heard you call me dad before… I don’t know if I like it or not yet.” He teased, toeing his shoes off next to the door before walking over to where you sat. “I’m glad you still love me though, woulda been weird to have to take you on all the first dates over again with the baby in the stroller.” The teasing tone was gone when his attention turned to Jisung who was sitting on the floor next, having helped you put your shoes on. “Did you really come here just to tell her I’ve been an asshole?” 

“Uhm… Yeah? Because you were being a really big asshole. Needed that shit to stop, so I went to the only person who would be able to stop it.” He motioned towards you with both of his hands, the usual Jisung smile on his face as he did. “And aren’t you happy? I mean, if I didn’t come here you probably would still be trying to get past her parents and you would have missed the birth of your daughter. So, I feel like you should be thanking me. And even if you won’t say it out loud… You’re welcome.” He pushed himself up off the floor, patting your head before walking over to the door and letting himself out. “I feel like you two have a lot of catching up to do, so I will be leaving. See you later!” 

Now that Jisung was gone, it felt like the comedic relief that the two of you needed had left as well, leaving an awkward film lingering in the air as you and Minho stared at each other. “You uh… you look like you’re really close. How much longer?” He asked nervously now, lowering down onto the arm of the couch to get a better view of you and your stomach. 

“About two weeks…” You murmured, swallowing thickly as you thought about it. “I’ve been going to the lamaze classes and doing the little breathing exercises to get ready… It was just hard to be at the classes since I was the only one there alone.” Minho nodded slowly, his heart aching at the thought of you going through all of this by yourself. “Her room is all set up though… Me and my dad worked on it for a while… I kept getting tired.” 

“So… you’ll be staying here?” He hated that… You and his daughter being so far away from him. It took him an hour to get there from the office, and his house was another hour in the opposite direction. He didn’t want to have to drive two hours just to see you and his baby. “I… You know… I didn’t know that she would be… A girl… But… I’ve been hoping and preparing… I’ve got a room set up for her too. It made me feel a little better… I even got the clothes and the diapers and stuff.” 

Your thumbs twirled around each other as you looked away from him. You knew that at some point it would need to be brought up, you just hadn’t had the chance to really prep what you were going to say to him. “I love you, Minho… But I never planned on going back to you.” You heard the sharp gasp be pushed from his lungs at the revelation. “It wasn’t to hurt you though… I know how important your job is to you. I was doing it to protect you, to protect the guys. I wasn’t going to hide her from you, or keep her from you forever… But I needed to get myself used to doing this on my own so that I didn’t feel like I had to depend on you. I was doing it for me… For her…” 

He slipped off the arm of the couch to fall on the cushion beside you, his hand hesitantly raising before lowering it down on your stomach, his thumb lightly brushing along the fabric that hung loosely over it. “My job is important… But it’s not more important than you, and it’s definitely not more important than her. One day the group is going to be done… And sure, I’ll still have the guys, but I don’t want to be the one sitting around while they all have families of their own… I don’t want to be the one alone while knowing that I do have a family… I just pushed them away. I don’t want you to do this on your own either… You shouldn’t have to. I want to be here, Y/N. I want to be her father… And I want to be your… Your husband.” 

Marriage had never been a topic that the two of you went too far in depth into when it got brought up, you both would ever so lightly touch base on it and then quickly move onto the next topic. It’s not that you didn’t want to get married, it just didn’t seem like an important thing to do during the two years that you had been dating. The only time that it had been seriously brought up was during that talk eight months ago that led to this.

He pulled the box out of his pocket, chuckling softly to himself as he looked at it. “You know… I brought this with me every single time I came to try and see you…” He commented as he opened it up, revealing a thin silver band with the smallest diamond on top. “There’s no one else I’d rather spend the rest of my life with, no one else I’d rather be starting my family with. I don’t care what management will say, I don’t care what anyone says… I don’t care what happens, as long as I get to be with you and her… So please… Will you say yes? I want to at least try to do this the right way…” 

You sniffled softly, looking down at your hand that the ring was supposed to be placed on, wiggling your finger, it was so easy to imagine what it would look like once it was slipped on. “You make it so hard to hate you, Lee Minho…” You mumbled, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your shirt before letting your hands drop back down to your sides. 

“That should be a good thing, darling. I don’t want you to hate me.” He grabbed your hand, placing the ring delicately on your finger, the fit was perfect, made specifically and only for you. “I want you to love me as much as I love you… And if you’re still unsure… I promise to spend the rest of my life making sure you’re happy, and you’re comfortable, and you know that you’re loved by me.” He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand before leaning in to kiss you softly, the feeling opening a floodgate of memories that had tears rushing faster down your cheeks, and he worked quickly to catch each and every single one before they had the chance to reach your chin. “I think I’ve got about 8 months worth of catching up to do before the two weeks are up… You think we got enough time?”

[uncouth-the-fifth]

click, p.2 - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (late s5) Tags/Warnings: angst, love confessions, romantic sex, oral sex/cunnilingus, (aka, Sam pussy addiction: the shequel), Sam is Lucifer's vessel, reader is AFAB. Word Count: ~11k. Notes: i was commissioned for the second time by the lovely @daffodil-mania, who wanted a continuation of her last fic set during the "say yes" era of s5. (sooooo dangerous to let me put my grubby hands on this version of Sam, btw). i cannot express how BUCK FUCKING WILD uncouth-nation went for the first part of this fic, so this is for all the wonderful people who gushed over click, commented, threw me some kudos, or even just read it and liked it. lots of love, and i hope you enjoy <3 i did my best to rip out your soul as best i could. THIS CAN STAND ON IT'S OWNNN AHHH. i mean. if u wanna read it <3 Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

FIVE YEARS LATER

The walk from the bus stop to your apartment is a safe and easy seven minutes. If you were any other person in any other world, you’d glide onto the bus after your night shift at the university, hop off at your stop, and bumble toward your apartment without a single care in the world. Maybe stare at your phone the whole walk back. Text a hot guy who isn’t the physical manifestation of the devil on earth. Normal stuff.

But this is your life, so you sit front seat on the bus, hands in your lap, tapping a nervous beat against the angel blade hidden in your book bag. The windows rattle in their frames and gleam with rain. You could get off at your stop and take those easy seven minutes home—but the bus driver could also be a demon, so.

Since you aren’t in the mood to die a slow death tonight, walking a few extra blocks to keep anybody from knowing where you live will have to work.

On day two of this, you’d called Dean and asked if you were being extra paranoid. He’d kindly pointed out: Extra-paranoid is just extra-survival. I dunno about you, but survivin’ a lil’ extra sounds fan-fuckin-tastic to me right about now.

He’s right. You know he’s right. But it still doesn’t feel like a good answer, and that makes you picture Sam, twenty-three and still bright-eyed, running his fingers down your bare back and scowling. I’m sick of surviving. One of these days, I want to actually live my life.

But that had been before the apocalypse, before Dean’s deal, before everything. Sam was a different man now. Hunting had reached into all three of you and ripped all sorts of things out, but you would never forgive it for taking Sam’s hope for something better. God, you missed that Sam. You missed him more than anything.

The city bus lumbers up to the curb and spits you out onto the sidewalk, where you superstitiously hover, waiting for the other passengers crawling away from their night shifts to scatter. It’s only when the bus is a dark spot in the mist down the street that you start to walk, your whole body caked head to toe with oily rain. 

This time, you take a random left toward your apartment and serpentine street-to-street, never walking the exact same way the same week. By the time you’re closer to where the bus could’ve actually dropped you off, the lingering smell of old research books has been practically power-washed out of your clothes. You try to think of anything but the freezing, biting, face-stinging rain… and, like a moth to a flame, your mind floats back to Sam.

It’s been over two weeks since he dropped the nuclear option. Over two weeks ago, Sam wanted to say yes to Lucifer, and over two weeks have passed since the massive, unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object fight that’d erupted as a result.

Dean had blown up. Sam had pushed. You’d burst into tears and clawed into Sam just as deep, because why, why would he ever go there—why would that even be a fathomable possibility in his mind? Did he really think so low of himself? How could he ever give up like that? How could he leave you—?

The worst part was easily the way Sam had reacted. With Dean or John, he could yell himself hoarse, but when it came to fighting you all he could do was sit and take it. He put his head down and nodded at everything you said, even the cruel things. In some ways it made you angrier, but also inconceivably, cosmically guilty. This was Sam’s choice. And of course, because this was Sam, his choice was to save the whole goddamn world. Not a single bone in your body carried that level of selflessness, yet Sam bled the stuff.

You were still furious with him, but only because being mad at him was the only option you had left. The right thing to do would be to tell Sam, I trust you to make this decision, this is your life, and let him take that jump… But you didn’t have it in you. Saying that felt like pushing him over the ledge yourself, or telling him you’d never cared about him in the first place. If you were angry at least you were still fighting for him in some way.

You’d been on board for everything—trying to find a way out of Dean’s deal, trying to kill Lilith, everything. But the argument with Sam had torn out the final piece of you that could stand this, so you packed a bag, told Dean you’d be in a strict research-only role, and booked it back to your hometown. It was cowardly and stupid and beyond selfish, but you knew your stance. The hunt had taken everything from you. You refused to let it take Sam, too.

Maybe, Sam would take you stepping away as a serious sign to change his mind. You couldn’t imagine a world where Sam and his Winchester stubbornness would ever do that, but. It was a nice wish to hold onto.

By the time you make it up the steps to your apartment building, you’re soaked to the bone and audibly making pathetic shivering sounds. Your bookbag feels heavier than ever, digging a trench into your shoulder as you fish around for your keys. The second your apartment door is open the true weight of your exhaustion hits you—

—and then utterly disappears, replaced by a shock of pure adrenaline.

There’s a new pair of boots by your front door.

You catch the heavy door before it goes swinging against the doorjamb, straining your ears against the ringing silence. The bedside lamp is on in your room.

On dead-quiet feet, you slip in, click the door shut behind you, and slip off your bookbag. Your angel blade is in your hand in a second, but you risk a few extra steps toward your kitchen table to wiggle loose the pistol you taped underneath. Just the weight of your weapons in your hands flicks the hunter muscle memory back on in your body, and before you can think you’re hiding in the shadow beside your bedroom door. Listening.

Soft breathing. The pages of a book turning.

You know, instinctively, who it is—you would know him dumb and blind and dead. But these days, anybody could be piloting his body around.

You suck in a deep breath through your nose, heart throbbing in your ears. You wait until the fingers on your gun aren’t shaking anymore, then burst inside the room, slamming the door into the wall and whipping your pistol up to eye level.

Sam’s head flinches towards you. He is exactly as you saw him two weeks ago; solemn, determined, and open, the air around him practically steaming with safety and goodness. He’s sat comfortably on your bed, reading a book he brought with him. Despite everything, your belly still curls with butterflies when you lay eyes on him. Sam. Definitely Sam, and no one else.

Still, your paranoia has gotten you this far. You both stare at each other for a beat, equal parts scared out of your minds and relieved. Without a word, you keep your gun trained on him, and Sam lets you, his eyes big and understanding. You shuffle sideways to your dresser, and without turning away from him, pop open the top drawer and toss him the silver flask of holy water you keep hidden inside. 

He catches it. So, not a shapeshifter, then. Sam takes a drink of the holy water, even turning to the side so you can see the water go into his mouth. (A demon in Missouri had slipped past the three of you by pretending to sip—only Sam would know that.) You’re still a little terrified, but you manage to pull your weapons back down to your sides. You still don’t know what to say.

He’s really here. The part of you that had worried the argument with Sam would be your last wails with joy. He’s here, alive and in front of you. No matter how awkward you feel you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him. By the buttery light of your bedside lamp, he literally glows with beauty, and you realize he’d scrubbed his boots off on your welcome mat to not track mud in, and he’d hung up his rain-soaked jacket in your shower to dry. Stupid polite Sam things.

You dare to glance back at your kitchen, then swivel to squint at him. “Did you… do my dishes?”

Sam lets his hands relax into his lap and nods, shy. He’s looking at you in a way he never really has before, eyes big and soul-rending. “…Yeah. I used the key you gave me to get in… Hope that’s okay.”

There’s another long pause. Usually when you stare at Sam, he doesn’t stare so intensely back, but you share a weird mutual moment where you just stand there and take each other in. It’s so obvious it’s painful, but if he’s doing it then you feel entitled to devour him with your eyes too.

“I got, uh, bored. Waiting for you,” Sam clarifies. “Thought I’d make myself useful.”

Sam stands from the bed. For a second you think he’s heading straight for you, but he moves toward the dresser behind you, kindly tucking the holy water back where it was stowed. You flit out of his way as fast as you can and set your weapons down on the closest available surface, feeling off-kilter. Why would he come here? Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind?

You hold onto the question, but you know it’s too out of character to hope for. Despair sinks into your gut like a rock in a pond. You know why Sam’s here. He would never make this decision without telling you first—without at least saying goodbye in person.

Your throat locks up with tears.

Behind you, Sam hums, “You changed your hair.”

Right. You’d altered it to be more undercover. You resist the urge to reach up and play with your hair, or give in to any of the fluttery feelings you always feel around Sam. “It’s safer.” Tightly, you ask him, “What are you doing here?”

Sam drags a long breath through his nose. You clutch the end of your bookshelf, your chest crumpling with misery. Please don’t say it. Please, please, lie to me if you have to.

“...I’m not taking the jump,” Sam breathes.

There’s more that he says after that. He talks about how you and Dean are right, and how, surely, after everything that the three of you have been through, there’s got to be another way to end this. You’ve always found another way in the past. Sam explains all this to you in a sure, quiet voice, like this is something he’s thought about for a long time, but you barely hear him after those first words. There’s this persistent tension in your chest that’s telling you that there’s something wrong here, but you don’t care—you don’t give a single fucking shit, because Sam—Sam isn’t saying yes. Sam’s staying.

“…are other ways I can make up for the mistakes I made,” he’s telling you, scrambling to fill the nagging silence.

You take a moment to force back your tears, and Sam, nervously, keeps talking.

He swallows, trying to smile. “I-I would’ve called and told you, but something tells me you wouldn’t have picked up.”

When you’ve got your bearings back, you push away from your bookshelf and turn to face him. Your legs are so leaden that you feel as if you have to physically pick up your body and drop it down the other direction, but you manage it. “What… what made you change your mind?”

Sam gets one look at your face and wilts with guilt. He doesn’t answer your question in words—just shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down at his feet, then around your room, as if his reason was in the air with the two of you. In the apartment. His eyes flicker over you just once, and you understand. Seeing you leave really had scared him.

“Be careful,” you start to joke with him, “you start validating my childish reactions and we’re gonna have a whole new set of problems on our hands.”

Sam scoffs. “It wasn’t childish to run away.”

You raise an eyebrow at his word choice, which gets an honest-to-god laugh out of him. A real good Sam Winchester laugh, dimples and all. The last dregs of anxiety in your gut melt at the sound, and Sam reassures you, shrugging, “You needed to get out. In case you forgot, I kind of invented wanting to get out. I understand. I really do.”

You know that he does. That’s not exactly going to stop you from feeling guilty about ditching them, but at least it kicked some sense into him. God. For the last five or six years, your every moment had been spent with Sam and his brother. Even just a couple weeks without him had drained you, and having him back only makes those feelings more clear. Sam’s presence commands the space in a way that turns your shitty, undecorated bedroom into someplace magical, someplace good and safe and warm, and just seeing him standing there draws the ache out of your spine.

Your reach out for his sleeve. Somehow, he’s more real than ever, a tangible person instead of the memory you’ve chased for so long.

“You’re really not saying yes?”

Sam unwinds your hand from the fabric so he can hold it instead, your fingers scooped in his fingers. You’re given a firm squeeze and are hypnotized by him in an instant, the world narrowing down to this moment between just him and just you.

Sam looks into your eyes when he promises, “I’m not going anywhere.”

The tears you’d resisted before return in one big, merciless wave. You’re so tired and the rain was so fucking cold and you’re so sick of being scared that Sam, thank god, Sam, is everything you could possibly need. He’s not going anywhere. Before you can stop yourself you’re clutching him for dear life, shoving your face in his shirt and crushing his body against yours. These last few weeks have submerged you in survival mode, and you don’t realize how deep until Sam pulls you out of the current. He’s warm and dry, and when you inhale to sob he smells like a 24-hour-laundromat, the Impala, and home home home. You could’ve lost that. You could’ve lost him.

“Th-thank you,” you choke out at nothing in particular, “thank you.”

You’ve cried a lot this week, so there are not many tears left to shed. Still, Sam holds you through all of them, swaying back and forth with you and cooing in your ear. You hear him sniffling too. When you’re both all sobbed out, you pull back to tell him you love him, to remind him of all the things he needs to hear, but Sam strangely doesn’t let you. The second he feels you pull away he clutches you back against him, and you get the uneasy impression that you’ve been comforting him more than he’s been comforting you. His whole body’s shaking.

Sam hugs you for longer than he ever has before. It’s a little worrying, but you’ve both needed it so much that you don’t even complain.

After a while, Sam slips back, and in traditional Winchester fashion tries to play off his vulnerability. He’s always been a dead-silent crier, so you have zero way to gauge how bad things are until you see his face. He looks like he’d sobbed his heart out. Your shirt is still wet from the rain, but even then you can feel Sam’s tears soaking your shoulder. Saying anything about it will just embarrass him, though.

“...I-I, uh,” you lick the tears off your lips, mumbling, “I don’t know bout’ you, but I’m beat. Do you have somewhere you gotta be, or,” you add hopefully, “or can you stick around?”

This is the part where Sam will start coaxing you to drive back with him to where he and Dean are holed up, you’re sure of it. You’re already plotting in your head what to pack and what to take, but Sam never brings it up. He doesn’t worry about tomorrow yet.

He presses his lips together. “I was hoping I could stay here tonight, actually.”

This is an even better answer. You’re nodding before he’s even finished the thought, stroking your hand down his chest. It twists your gut in knots to see him like this, so you start to steer the conversation toward something more playful, something less daunting to think about.

“You’re lucky I like you then,” you smirk. Somehow, you manage to peel yourself out of his bubble and teeter toward your dresser, scrubbing the tears off your face. “Make yourself comfortable. I dunno about you, but I’m getting the fuck out of these work clothes, I’m freezing. Do you need anything to sleep in? I’ve got at least five years of your stolen shirts in here.”

You hear him ease himself down on the end of your bed again, but there’s no sassy retort, sly comment, or any sort of line about you and your stealing habits. Instead, sweet and simple, he says, “I’ll just sleep in this. You can have them.”

Okay. Weird.

Since he didn’t take the bait, you throw out another line and try again. This time, you kick off your shoes, open a drawer, and turn back to him with two of his shirts in hand. “Really?” You wave them teasingly in the air. “You sure?”

They are some of his best shirts, easy. You’re not a cheap thief. The first is a holey, feather-soft Red Hot Chili Peppers tee, and the second is a deep maroon Stanford sweater. He has so few artifacts from that time in his life that there’s no way he won’t want this one back. Right?

But Sam just gazes at you, his whole face soft and loving as he says, “You should wear the Stanford one. It looks good on you.”

Those old hot-shivery feelings for him seep down your spine, and you feel in real-time how your cheeks flood with heat. Damn, okay. Consider yourself wooed.

You’ve been down this road with Sam many, many times—enough to know when he’s flirting with you. The forbidden labels had never been thrown around, but. Well. Sam had been your first time, as well as the many other times after that.

He’s usually leagues more subtle than his brother, but for whatever reason he’s pouring it on by the truckload tonight. When you turn around he’s nothing but big, happy puppy eyes, waiting patiently for you at the end of the bed. (Like you’re his girlfriend. Like anything about this is normal at all, and you and Sam are going to tuck into bed together like it’s any other night). Fuck, you missed him.

The bathroom is only a few steps away, but this is Sam, so you decide to just throw on your pajamas right here. Your shirt is so wet that it hits the floor with a slap. It also takes some experience to wring yourself out of your denim-turned-cement jeans, so it’s not the sexiest show in the entire world. Still, Sam’s gaze traces sensual lines down your back. You would rather go to literal, actual hell than wear your bra for a minute longer, so the second you’re free of its death grip, a long happy sigh drains out of you. A similar dreamy sigh drains out of Sam. Dork.

“I will never get tired of that,” Sam murmurs. You expect to hear some kind of hunger there, but the timber of his voice bleeds with admiration and fondness.

There are very few ways to be a normal human being while Sam Winchester adores your nude body with his eyes. The best you can do is burst into flustered, giggly laughter and give him a good eyeroll, your entire face cooking like a stove burner.

“Alright, loverboy,” you scoff, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and take my makeup off—”

“Can I help?” Sam asks.

You sputter out another laugh, confused. “You wanna brush my teeth for me?”

“No,” Sam shakes his head, smiling big, “Lemme take your makeup off for you.”

Okay. Weirder. But it’s sweet, and you like this side of him, so you decide to indulge his mood. “...Sure.”

You go about your night-time routine. Sam continues to be a weirdo, trailing you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe, and blinking slow endearing blinks at you as he… watches you brush your teeth. Just. Stands there, watching, utterly enamored with this little moment of domesticity with you. On the surface level you’re a little thrown off, but it falls under the category of Freaky Sam Things that made you catch feelings for him in the first place, so. You grin into your toothbrush the whole time.

When he’s satisfied by his little ogling fest, he drifts off to hunt around for your makeup wipes. Either you’re predictable or he knows you too well, because he finds them within seconds, and patiently sits back as you finish up your routine, watching you like you’ll disappear on him the moment he turns away. Click click, you feel inside you.

“Okay,” he says when you’re done. “Close your eyes.”

You do. You wait for the cool touch of the wipe on your face, but instead, Sam’s big, rough fingers find your chin and hold you still. It takes conscience effort to not melt into his touch like a cat in a square of sunlight. Your willpower is nothing on Sam’s, though, so you give in quickly, sinking into his hand and sighing through your nose. In gentle swipes, he cleans your face. It must be a nightmare of smeared mascara considering how you’d cried earlier… And yet Sam had still been so transfixed by you. He’s the fucking best.

Sam’s hand tilts your head from side to side to survey his handiwork. Pleased, he tosses the wipe in the trash and says, “There you go.”

You open your eyes and go to double-check his work in the mirror, but Sam hasn’t removed his hand from your chin, and you really, really don’t want him to. His thick thumb comes up and caresses under your lips. He looks at you like he loves you, and with all the honesty in the world, he utters, “...You are so pretty.”

…The only way for you to survive this is by throwing him a dry look. “You’re full of shit. What’s your game, Winchester?”

That earns you another authentic Sam laugh, along with a handsome boyish smile. “There’s no game. What are you talking about?”

You squint at him. Liar.

“This.” You gestured between the two of you, suspicious. “You’re mooning over me. Why are you mooning? Are you planning something?”

A ripple of discomfort rolls across Sam’s face, but it passes too fast for you to read. His hands go right back in his pockets and he leans into the doorframe again. “I’m just… happy we’re not fighting,” he confesses.

Oh. That makes sense. Sam hasn’t exactly made up with you like that before, but. These times change everyone. You ease up on your teasing and admit, “Me too.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you away,” Sam says, and far, far too seriously for your liking, he whispers, “I’m sorry for everything.”

Your answer slips right out of your mouth without hesitation. “I forgive you, stupid,” your brows furrow together. “And I’m sorry, too. I said some pretty shitty stuff back there.”

Sam wilts against the doorframe a little. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

A dull pulse of anger flares in your chest, which flickers out and dies not a second later. There’s so much you want to say to that.

It is so fucking unfair—biblically, cosmically unfair—that Sam, the good guy to end all good guys, thinks of himself this way. He is the kind of righteous they make saints out of. And yet he sits in your silly little bathroom in your shitty little apartment and gives you that look, the look that says, I deserve this and so much more. I deserve to rot in hell for all eternity. He gave you that exact look when he brought up saying yes. He gives it to you now, because Sam sees everything as a sin to serve penance for—freeing Lucifer from the cage and making you a little worried. He thinks he’s so evil, so beyond saving. It makes you want to get your fists in your shirt and just shake him. 

You’re good! You want to scream. Just for once in your life, listen to me! None of this is your fault!

There’s nothing you could say to him that would ever make him let go of his guilt. But, at the very least, you could help him forget about it for a while.

“You beat yourself up too much,” you scold. Then, softer, you add, “C’mere, Sammy.”

Sam does as told, planting himself right in front of you. God, he’s changed. You look him over with a bittersweet smile. He used to be so spindly. The last few years have filled him out, forcing his body into something ready for war. The hunt reached in and tore all sorts of things out of people, but you’d been wrong about what it’d ripped out of Sam. His optimism was still there, warm and humming in the tissue of his body, and just seeing it fills you with hope. He looks so different from the man you’d had all to yourself in that cabin, but you can feel that he’s still in there. He’s still your Sam.

You take his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs into his dimples and quietly, needily rasping, “...Can I take care of you?”

Sam’s whole body shudders with relief. “Please, yes.”

The next few beats of this dance haven’t changed. Like always, Sam comes flying in with a big, smashing kiss that shatters any leftover barriers between you. You’re not Sam’s girlfriend and he’s not your boyfriend, but Sam makes you his with this kiss. (If only for a little while). Your noses mash together and his eyes squeeze shut and then everything is just Sam, Sam, Sam at every angle. His hands are at his sides then suddenly they’re all over you, taking two greedy handfuls of your waist under the Stanford sweater. He jams your hips against his and kisses you senseless, towering over you, surrounding you, so that when you pull back to gasp for breath your lungs are flooded with his familiar heady love potion.

Either he’s giving off some Poison Ivy-level pheromones, or your body is so familiar with these steps that it knows what comes after this kiss… because you’re instantly wet.

You realized a long time ago that you and Sam have sex a bit too often for it to be considered “casual,” but even if it was, Sam is not a casual kind of lay. After that first soul-stealing kiss, Sam stares you down like a four-course meal, spins you around, pushes you down chest-first onto the bathroom counter, drops to his knees—

—and shoves his face between your legs like it’s his goddamn job.

In the middle of all your surprised shrieking and squirming, Sam nuzzles his face into your panties and moans deep and bassy in his throat, “Yes.”

Like he’s won something. Like he’s been waiting weeks to do this. Holy fuck, you’ll never get tired of that.

The second you have even an atom of your reason back, you slap a hand over your mouth. Neighbors! Sam has already forgotten what neighbors are, and is holy-mission-from-god-determined to make you noisy. He’s extra hungry for it tonight, too. You squeak out his name, not so much in shock, but more because having those huge hands squeezing where your ass starts to round out tends to produce a reaction, and Sam rumbles like a lawnmower in approval. Holy fuck.

He doesn’t have to ask you to spread your legs. One of the hands appreciating your ass slides between your thighs, cupping you through your underwear, and you have to try not to squeal when the meaty pad of Sam’s thumb swipes across your clothed folds. He presses a big kiss in that exact spot as he drags your panties down your legs, and it’s a weirdly sweet gesture that makes your heart and your belly flutter with shivery heat. Fuck. Fuck, you missed him so much.

The first few times Sam had sprung this move on you, you hadn’t exactly had enough time to fully rev up. But Sam is deadly efficient in and out of the bedroom, so he makes a point to get you extra wet (for him) with his spit, laving his hot, slippery tongue over you in one long swipe. He eats you out with all the obscene, noisy enjoyment of somebody gorging on the juiciest fruit they’ve ever tasted. Even you are scandalized.

It becomes embarrassingly clear that covering your mouth isn’t going to keep Sam from what he wants. The high, desperate moan you try to stifle only makes him work harder. You press an arm flat to the counter and bury your face in it for strength, since you’re weak and whimpering for him already. 

Sam was good in bed when you met him. But, by nature, he is a relentless and avid learner, and it’s been five whole years since he put his mouth on you for the first time. Now, Sam is a certified pussy-eating weapon. He knows your body better than anyone possibly could. You’re over the edge in a minute flat.

Your climax flies through you in one whizzing, sparking rush, then keeps flying, until your body’s squeezing out little squeaky pleas for mercy of its own accord. This is his favorite part. You claw into the countertop and wail for it, pushing at the floor in your socks to gain any sort of leverage. To press closer? To squirm away? You have zero fucking clue, since the thought part of your brain has been blasted into a smoking crater. Sam wraps a big arm around your spasming thigh to pin you open, and holy fucking shit, could that man suck the chrome off a tailpipe. His mouth is a whirlwind of licking and suction just on the right side of oh fuck too much that makes your skin feel like it’s fizzing. You are a thread that he’s just pulling and pulling until you’re so thin you could snap into nothing—

You wait for the moment when Sam pops off you, stands up, and goes for his zipper, but he never does. He remains on the floor, determined to lick you through overstimulation and straight into round two. But that’s a whole minute you could spend with his dick inside you instead, and there’s no fucking way you’re wasting that. Not when he’s here and real and not going to say yes. Sam’s not going anywhere. He’s staying, he’s alive, and the world isn’t going to end tomorrow.

“No no no,” you bite out in one short, rattling breath. “S-Suh—Sam, please please—” An unexpected sob shreds out of you. “Miss you. Need you.”

You’re actually, genuinely crying, and not entirely in the fun sexed-out way. Sam backs up. He’s not even halfway standing when you wrench him up the rest of the way, straight into a desperate, maddening kiss. It’s a brutal cross of teeth and tongue. The need for body heat and skin and him burns through you like genuine bloodlust, so you cram yourself up against him with life-or-death urgency. You get your nails into him until you feel something like shirt fabric and viciously yank it over his head, waiting for the moment when he grabs your wrists or shoves you onto the bed o-or—or starts to blow off steam. Cause’ that’s what this is all about, right?

He drags your mouths apart. Sam pants, “Slow down.”

You stop.

This is. This is new.

There’s no slowing, with this. You both go and you keep going until there’s no more fuel in your tanks, and you crawl out of bed the next day feeling like you’ve beaten the rot out of each other. You’ve never once slowed down during this before, and as your wheels spin to a halt for the first time, reality filters back in around you.

Sam stares at you. His hair is all over the place. A patchy blush speckles up his heaving chest, burning in his ears and in his cheeks. Your slick shines on his lips and the bulb of his nose. He’s just standing there and fucking looking at you, but for whatever reason it feels like the color has seeped back into the world.

“S’okay. Gonna be okay,” Sam hushes, bleeding with sweetness.

He picks up your hands, moving you as if you were a delicate glass he was turning over in each palm. Each of your hands are kissed in the center (oh my fucking god) then wrapped around his neck, and when he has you in his bubble he scoops up your face and kisses you.

It’s a boyfriend kiss. Not a blowing off steam thing, or any other excuse the two of you have used to feel each other. A genuine, I’m your boyfriend and I love you sort of kiss, foreheads pressed together, noses touching, the whole nine yards. It’s the kind of kiss that’s meant to say something. Every inch of what he’s trying to tell you echoes through your body in one ringing smash, like you’re a big cymbal he’s taken a mallet to. 

He slips off your lips and hovers, bracing himself for impact. You suck in a rattling breath.

…Then you press up onto your tiptoes to give him a kiss of your own, just pressing your lips against his, unmoving. It’s undemanding; an answer. You try to find the words to describe the shift that’s occurred between you, and end up feeling stuttery and shivery and fucking elated. Romantic. It’s fucking romantic.

“Sammy,” you sob out.

“Shhh. C’mere,” Sam whispers, his voice throaty and whiskey smooth. “Lemme make it better.”

He tries to walk you straight back out of the bathroom and towards the bed, he really does, but you stop Sam every other step to overwhelm him with obsessed, affectionate kisses. God. His chapstick is all over your fucking mouth (along with your slick) and his hands are everywhere else, feeling instead of grabbing.

“You always do,” you breathe, and that might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to him in bed.

Sam gets this quiet, pleased smile on his face. No matter how naked and turned-on you are, you’ve always got a snappy reply ready, and you’re about to throw one at him—until you’re fucking obliterated. He smoothes his palms down your arms. Your wrists are scooped up again. With all the tenderness on the planet, Sam slides in close, kisses your throat, and places both of your hands firmly on his belt.

“Take it off,” he rasps.

This. This isn’t the first time he’s given you that order. But knowing, feeling that he’s playing this all out like it’s more than a fling to him… that Sam’s gonna fuck you like you’re someone special to him… sweet jesus, it makes you lightheaded.

“Bossy,” your murmur, grinning.

You’re downright feverish going in to kiss him next. Sam parts your lips with a slow, sinful swipe of his tongue, and there must be a drop of psychic still in him, because suddenly you’re flooded with visions of that filthy mouth between your legs. You can still feel the ghost of him there, keeping you open with his thumbs as the blunt tip of his tongue pushes you somewhere vast and sparkly and wonderful. This is going to be even better.

He sounds like he’s praying when he says, “I just like to watch you.”

Muscle memory serves. You work his clasp open without peeking down and let it hang in his belt loops, mostly because it lets his jeans sling low on his hips in the most enticing way. His belly twitches at even the slightest touch of your hands; always so responsive. Sam drops his forehead on your shoulder to watch you work, and you take the rare opportunity to kiss the top of his head. This is one of your favorite parts. When his button is undone and his zipper’s down, you’re free to smooth your hand under his waistband and take a big handful of him.

You reach in and—squeeze. Sam’s hand snaps up to clutch your arm. His nails dig in, and he rocks forward onto his tiptoes to really dig into your touch. “Yes.”

It’s the kind of soft, needy sound that makes you want to smother him with kisses and hug him until he suffocates. Instead, you cooly purr into his hair, “So sensitive, Sammy.”

A hoarse, sharp laugh snaps out of him, which dissolves into a shuddering groan. You tug at his jeans until they’re somewhere you don’t care about anymore, and forget about everything else entirely at the sight of his cock. All these years of sneaking around with him have conditioned you. Just seeing the pretty speckling of dark hair that leads to it, then the real deal, hanging blood-hot and heavy between his legs, makes your tummy flip and your mouth water. One of a million embarrassing Sam-reactions you’ll have to bring to your grave.

You take his cock in your hand, trying to swallow back the slutty amount of saliva in your mouth. Sam whimpers. A real, desperate sound, with his nails stinging down your arms and everything.

“Know you wanted to slow down,” you struggle between open-mouthed pants, “b-but—can’t—don’t wanna wait—”

Sam physically curls towards you, his hips seizing into your hand and his arms hooking around your shoulders. You’re dragged in for a sloppy kiss so deep you swear it melds your souls together. Sam is just as affected, rumbling like a racecar in approval.

“Then don’t.” He begs.

If this was any other night, Sam would just take. You’d be face down and drilled halfway through the mattress by now, no preamble, all business. He got off and you got off and everyone was happy that way. Sam would want the room dark and you would hide your face in the bedding, the two of you eager to touch and experience but terrified of breaking the illusion. He’s so generous that you suppose he’s got to have at least one place in life where he’s selfish, and you’re happy to be his outlet for it, but.

You’ve never seen him take this way before.

He looks at you and he never really stops, transfixed. You don’t doubt you could walk in a circle around him and Sam’s eyes would follow you the whole way, his gaze oozing with longing and something else—resolution? Faith? You push him onto the bed, and he drops down as if hobbling into a pew for the first time, unsure how to clasp his hands in prayer because it’s only ever been something done in his head before.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“God,” Sam utters, spellbound. 

You’re blushing so hard that you forget to be sexy as you crawl into his lap, but Sam doesn’t care, still giving you those big slow doe blinks to express his love. It’s so different from the Sam you know (yet also so deeply, deeply him) that you forget what it means to be sexy entirely. He coaxes you closer to plant tender kisses under your chin, and the plan to seductively peel off your sweater for him and flash him your tits blips out of existence.

You wait for the moment when Sam shreds the Stanford sweater off you. Instead, those wonderful fucking hands tease under the hem to squeeze your waist, and Sam croaks out between kisses, “Should wear this all the time. You’re beautiful in anything, but this… you’re… mmn.”

Your heart gives a pathetic flutter. You press mindless kisses against his mouth and rock your bare core down on his lap, because he’s never acted this way before and you don’t know how else to return the favor. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Sammy.”

The only reaction you get from him is a single huff out of his nose, like it’s something he can’t commit a whole laugh to. Like none of that matters anymore, like it would never matter for Sam, because his body may be beautiful, but it hardly belongs to him anymore. God, you’re shitty at compliments.

You’re fucking wonderful, you suddenly want to tell him. A whole swarm of little truths and sweet nothings roars straight up to the surface of your mind, a whole sea of better things you could say to him, but then one of those perfect hands is slipping between your legs and Sam’s asking you in that perfect, tinted glass voice, “You still on the pill?”

“Yes, doctor,” you tease.

Another flood of sticky heat rushes between your legs, because that question is always a precursor to being pressed into and filled and stuffed end-to-end by Sam’s dick. The one barrier that doesn’t—didn’t exist between you.

“Good,” Sam sighs, relieved, grateful. He never turned down going raw in the past, but he’s downright starved for it right now. Closer closer closer, his whole body begs.

You’re tugged in by a big hand hooked around your back, and you fall right into Sam’s summer-warm, sweat-sticky chest, giggling. He loops both arms around your middle and teddy-bear squeezes even more laughter out of you. The only way to hold yourself up is by planting two hands on his shoulders… which turns into his cupping his neck… then caressing his face, because it’s impossible to be witness to that quiet boyish grin and not shower him in affection. There’s all these little freckles on him that you can only see up close. He feels good, mystical good, prophetic-chosen-one type good.

This is the moment. You can feel the blood in your body pounding between your legs, and Sam’s cock bumps not-so-innocently against your core as you kiss one another. Every shift of his hands sends your muscles clenching tight, bracing for impact, but Sam doesn’t push into you just yet.

Your confusion must be clear on your face, because he says, “Just let me feel you for a second.”

And, obviously, you’re not an idiot, so you let Sam feel you for as long as he pleases. For the next ten uninterrupted minutes, you makeout like lovesick teenagers, whimpering and sighing and swallowing every sound the other makes. You’d always pegged him as a romantic. But seeing it, feeling it, adds a whole new dimension to him you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

By the time the pool of need in your gut has opened up into a blackhole, Sam has caressed or squeezed or kissed every part of you ten times over. He continues to be weird and obsessed with you. (So still in character, then). Sam even pinches the ends of your ears and smooths his thumbs over the bumps of your ankles, being sexy about it but also a little terrifying. He touches you like he’s never gonna see you again.

Around the time that Sam starts suckling marks into your neck and trying to tickle you under your arms, you giggle out, “O-Okay—okay! Enough—!”

“Enough what?” Sam cocks his head. His hand makes another dive for your belly, making you shriek and squirm with more giggles. You try to wriggle away to protect your tickling sides, but Sam’s too strong and you’re a little in love with him, so it’s easy for him to pull you flush against him and blow tingly-warm breaths beside your ear. He purrs, “You need it that badly?”

“Fucking yes! So quit torturing me,” you pant, and you’re pretty sure this grin is going to get stuck on your face.

Sam’s smile gets even bigger. “Only if you say please.”

Your attitude slips from your grip like water. Next time, you’ll play push and pull with him, but right now there needs to be a lot more pushing and pulling in a different context.

The words are out of your mouth in an instant. “Please, Sam.”

As reluctant as he is to stop teasing you, Sam’s a little in love, too. He leans back enough to fist his cock in one hand, and you can’t help how your breath hitches when Sam’s touch follows the curve of your ass to where you’re soaked and sensitive for him. Those thick, maddening fingers spread you open. The velvety tip of his cock finds your hole right away, and your legs nearly give out when Sam starts to swipe himself up and down your folds one dizzying stroke at a time. Back…. and forth. Up… and down. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay, fine…” He concedes, his eyes glittering with joy. “You’re just so cute when you act all tough.”

Maybe not all of your attitude is gone. You bark out a laugh, telling him, “I hate you.”

Sam presses down for the last time, then presses in. You don’t mean to look into his eyes when he fills you up, and that’s probably what does you in. Sam’s rosy face flutters and twists with pleasure, but he never stops looking at you, not even once, terrified to miss even a small moment. The long hitching moan that slips out of you makes his whole face darken with desire. You’re pulled onto him deeper and deeper and deeper until—click. Cue the angel choir.

Your fingers dig desperately into his hair. Sam curls into you in one slow pulling movement, a thread pulled taut, until his face is stuffed in your neck and his hands are mindlessly scrabbling down your back.

“God, I love you,” he moans.

Soon your pussy feels achy and hair-trigger-sensitive and beyond full, which could mean that you’re all the way on him. It’s impossible to tell, since the first full minute of having Sam’s dick inside you sends you straight to the moon every time, where everything falls in peaceful slow-motion and the whole world hums with cosmic, sparkling pressure. You shove your face into him and nuzzle in a daze, little ripples of electricity sparking up your spine.

…Wait.

“What?” You register, slow.

Sam is still clutching you for dear life, even if the moment’s slowed and you’re both comfortable. He hugs you full-bodied, nose in your neck, tilted forward, the kind of hug where he sways you side to side with joy. Sam sucks in a harsh breath. Can’t hold back anymore.

“I love you,” he gushes. The words burn out of him, declarative, overjoyed.

There’s so much you want to say to that. But then Sam digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you off his lap, only to gloriously sink you down the rest of the way, and. Fuck fuck fuck. His cock drags thick and hot against the pliant walls of your pussy. You couldn’t be any more full if you tried, clamping down on him with long, silky ripples of pressure that outline the shape of him inside you in obscene detail. It’s the kind of mind-blowing that’s beyond comprehension, beyond feeble human understanding. Your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper into his hair.

“God, I love you,” he chants again through grit teeth. “So much. So fucking much.”

You find his face with your hands and kiss him quiet, tasting the promise in his mouth. When you part and the two of you really start to move, you kiss him again, and again, whispering where only he can hear, “I-I love you too.”

It should scare you how easily the confession slips out. You should be terrified, because even if you live to see next week, or next month, or next year, even if Sam isn’t saying yes to Lucifer, those words are a death sentence. And yet.

“I-I miss you,” you choke out, “I need you.”

“Me too. So much,” Sam soothes, his voice tight and sharp with restraint. You know his instinct is to jackhammer up into you and never stop, but he puts in effort to resist, letting you both marinate in the wonderful, glistening, twitchy feeling of each other. His hands are rubbing your back and he is so fucking warm, turning the rain outside to steam.

He doesn’t bounce you on his dick. It’s more of a slow, cresting drag, waves stroking a beach. You don’t think you could handle much more than that, anyway—sometimes these positions make him feel big enough to pop you like a balloon. What you can’t fit on your own, your weight pushes you down onto anyway, turning your whole body into a big expanding bubble of pressure ready to burst at any moment. You clutch at his shoulders and just throb around him for a second.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam leans away, not letting you shove your face in him like you want. Instead, a big hand cups one side of your neck and keeps you in front of him. “Wanna see your face. Look at me. Look at me,” he insists, genuinely pleading.

When your eyes find his, that’s when he decides to snap up into you for real. You don’t even get a full look at him. The arm slung around your waist drags you up off your wobbling knees, then slams you down into a beautiful, endless white space popping with color.

“Sammy!” You choke.

That’s the magic word. You’re instantly thrust up into four more lightning-fast times, one-two-three-four, and hitch out four squeaky gasps to match. Sam’s eyes bore into yours with every beat, blazing with liquid love. For a second you wonder if you’ve fallen back into your rough routine again. But then words and thoughts melt out of your brain altogether, because Sam draws you into the tenderest, sweetest kiss human beings are capable of, fucking into you deep and smooth with that deeper, smoother voice, “Keep saying that.”

Sammy Sammy Sammy, you rattle out under your breath. Sam hisses out your name the exact same way.

You do your best to help him out a little, bobbing up and down in his lap, but’s a drop of water in the ocean for him. All Sam cares about is seeing your reaction. He soaks up everything you do like a sponge, moaning when you moan, gritting his teeth when you bite your lip, grinding up as you stir down. The weight of his eyes on you is so heavy that your skin stings in its wake. Again, it’s Sam’s brand of freak-sweetness that makes you get stupid notions in your head about wedding rings and anniversary presents. But that’s—

…something he knows about. Something he just said to you five minutes ago. Above the haze of bouncing, rhythmic pleasure, you’re flooded with relief. You can tell him! Holy fuck, you can tell him!

“I love you,” you gasp out again, and just saying it feels like it could save the world. “O-oh, god, Sam—”

The breath you have left is stolen from you by another fierce kiss from him, so passionate it lets you taste the bassy, happy hum that rumbles in Sam’s throat. You’re devoured by feverish kisses for a full minute, then Sam pops off you to sob, “So much—so fucking much, yes.”

He slips a hand between the two of you to thumb your clit, stirring in and never once stopping. Every so often he’ll brush up against where you’re hot and filled to the hilt with him, your bodies sliding together with slick, filthy noises that are so—so fucking much that your thighs cramp up, protesting the constant pistoning. But the pleasure is easily worth the burn. Your core booms with long echoes of pleasure that shudder through the trembling spiderwebs that make up your nerves. You make a move to lean back on your hands and switch up the angle, (since you’re a damn good cowgirl, thank you very much), but Sam refuses to stop kissing you. He physically pulls you back in with a hand fished around your neck and kisses you breathless, determined to pound you to your climax one thorough snap of his hips at a time.

“So beautiful,” Sam gushes. His voice is hoarse and thready, like he’s moments away from bursting into tears of pure desire.

You smooth your hands down his flushed cheeks, telling him between huffy moans, “It’s okay, s’ okay, Sammy… so pretty… love you so much…”

You feel him pull the Stanford sweater up over your ass and out of his way, exposing more, more, more of your bare skin for him to touch. Sam palms the slope of your back and your belly in a daze, but that’s still not enough—he’ll never be satisfied with how little of you he’s had. He wants more. He wants forever. You embrace each other to the fullest, cheeks smushed together, chests flush, his parted lips claiming your throat, making you his—but. Sam’s breath ratchets up. Not enough not enough not enough—

In one ragged motion, Sam rolls you both over, tossing you back-first onto the bedding and smothering you with his weight.

A squeal of delight jumps out of you. “Hey!”

If Sam wasn’t all over you before, then he literally is now, dropping onto his elbows so he can cup your face in both hands and surround you completely. “Sorry,” he croaks, “need you. Need to fill you up.”

You whisper against his lips, “Then fill me up already.”

His thumbs press into your cheeks a little. Sam’s breath fans across your face, throttled by the lump in his throat.

“Tell me you love me again.”

Um. You don’t exactly have the sexy heat of the moment to hide behind this time, but you still want to say it for him. His eyes swim with something unreadable. Desire and love, enough love to put a lump in your throat too, but a third thing also. It worries you.

You bring your hands up to stroke his wrists, and give a bit too much of your soul to him when you promise, “...I love you, Sam.”

The words hit him like a bullet. Sam shudders from head to toe, unable to reign himself in any longer, and plants a long, surging kiss on your mouth that makes your belly flash with nuclear levels of lust. He squirms his hands underneath your body so he can cradle you against him—genuinely cradling, one palm cupping the back of your neck—and then burrows into you face-first, groaning your name as his cock nestles itself as deep as it can go.

With all of his weight on top of you, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. You caress and kiss and dig your nails into him, and somewhere along the way you’re given a dose of whatever has made him fucking insane for you right now. It fogs your head and turns your reason to ash, so when Sam returns to ruining you for any other man, you whimper, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, baby,” Sam hiccups out, and something strange hangs in his voice.

You would ask him what’s wrong, but the shuddering, flimsy scraps left of your brain are busy being blasted all over by white-hot pleasure. Everything scorches. Sam’s bare skin and his breath and his hands feel fucking molten, melting you down like hot glass. You’re pinned down in every possible way, and it pushes the sinking, gorgeous pressure inside you all over your body, like it’s not just Sam’s cock filling you up, but him, just him, the source of all good in the world. Holy fucking fuck. His hips glide back and then thud back into you again and again and again. You get why it’s called making love, now. You can taste your love for him in the back of your throat, feel it sitting in a sticky film on your skin. It hangs like humidity in the air of your apartment. And jesus christ, it bleeds from Sam, glowing off him like fucking radiation.

When you’re shamelessly wailing gut-deep in ecstasy, Sam peels himself off you. He forces himself to sit up. His chest putters up and down with desperate little breaths, and a gloriously big hand scoops under your thigh and welds it against your chest. Whatever he sees from this new angle—probably your wet, abused pussy stretched tight around the full base of his cock—makes Sam gape, utterly transfixed. You watch as his mouth falls open, and then those dark, soul-swallowing eyes crawl up your body to meet yours.

“Keep lookin’ at me,” Sam rasps.

Even if he doesn’t sway your opinion with a few dizzying, stomach-deep drags of his cock, (which he does), you’re convinced. You lock eyes with him—and then suddenly feel stupid for not watching him the whole time. A long curl of hair hangs in his eyes and sways as he fucks into you. His expression flutters with these sinful little giveaways, exposing just how starved he is for you, how in love. Maybe if you’d looked back sometime in the past five years, that’s what you would’ve seen: how much this has always meant to him. He searches your face for the same pleasure, obsessed with his effect on you. 

“Fuck,” you shudder out. “C-could cum just watchin’ you, Sammy.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, and you’ve never heard him sound so damn happy. “Cum for me. Please. Look so pretty when you do.”

Usually, when he makes you cum, it’s the roughest part of the whole act. He’d get both your wrists pretzeled behind your back and pinned viciously in one of his hands, and that’s when you’d know the big finish was coming. His pace would go from bouncing to bruising. But this Sam, your Sam, would stop time if he could, so he slows down even further, winding you closer and closer to the top of the mountain with little figure-eights of his hips. He gazes down at you the same way you’re sure you must gaze up at him. Beautiful, he murmurs under his breath.

You utter another, tight, almost-sob of, “love you so much, Sammy,” and his dick twitches wildly shoved in you to the hilt.

“Ohh—shit,” he chokes out, and his other hand snaps desperately towards yours on the bed. They find each other easily, and you squeeze his hand with everything you’ve got, infusing in him all the love he’s infused in you.

The slow, mounting tsunami of perfection you’ve been moving towards finally overcomes you, and in one long gorgeous slippery rush you cum for Sam. And because your life is a movie—he cums for you too. He rocks faster and falls forward to kiss you, your faces pressed together, your mouths slotting against each other, your pussy squeezing down on him in golden rippling strokes. Sam hisses your name out between his teeth as he cums. You’re lanced straight through by a whole fucking universe of fluttering, flickering pleasure. To be honest, you’re a little pissed about it—because it’s the best fucking orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, and it’s all because Sam raggedly chants those words to you again and again, laying sloppy, obsessive, head-over-heel kisses all over your face. Love you love you so much baby you feel so good squeezin’ down on me.

You could’ve had this ages ago. How much more time could you have had with him, if you had just stopped being stupid?

Sam’s crazed, sobbing, hitching I love yous somehow become, in true Sam fashion, a low spiral of thank yous. He lays there and clutches you until there’s a Sam-shaped imprint in your body. You’re pretty sure he would stay inside you all night if he could, but you coax him into some cuddling instead, since you both are in desperate need. It’s. It’s new, but it feels cleansing in the holy way.

What feels like hours later, your brain dimly connects to the rest of your body. You’re halfway through detangling Sam’s hair with your fingers as he hides face-first in your chest, pretending he’s not embarrassed that he cried. At least, that’s what you assume. The Winchester mind is a mysterious one, and as much as you would hope to know what Sam’s thinking, the slow hand drawing circles on your hip tells you nothing. Is he shy that he got emotional? That seems silly, since you both sobbed into each other earlier. Is he embarrassed about everything he confessed? Does he regret it?

Just when your train of thought really starts to take the curves of your spiral hard, Sam tiredly croaks into your neck, “I meant what I said, y’know.”

He draws in a lungful of your perfume through his nose, soaking up as much of you as he can possibly get. His hands smooth over your body, innocent and loving, caressing you, memorizing you, begging silently for forgiveness. 

Sam is a dead-silent crier. But you hear him sniffle as he gushes, “God, I love you.”

Maybe if you hadn’t been so tired, you would’ve picked up on it. Or maybe you’d heard it in his voice, seen it, something, and ignored it, hoping it was something else. Everything he felt, he put into a teeny, unmarked box that he’d bury god knows where, far from where anybody could be hurt by it. Sam didn’t—he wouldn’t say that to you. Not unless it was the last time he ever could. He would feel it, but it’d go right into that box where it couldn’t hurt you. You should’ve known.

Lie to me, you’d begged him. 

…And Sam had.

_

The dull realization that you are awake sets in around noon. Noon as in after-noon, well past when you’re normally up and at em’. When you wonder why the hell you slept in so late, you remember last night’s rain, thrashing against the windows all night, and Sam, his face haloed by lamplight and bleeding with quiet resolution.

Sam. Alive, and not going to say yes.

He’d been the one to keep you up all night. With his mouth and his hands, yes, but then afterward he’d been hellbent on talking. Just… talking. You’d been sluggish and cozy and sated after having sex, but no matter how close you came to falling asleep, Sam wouldn’t let it happen. For two straight hours he asked you every question he could come up with to keep you up with him.

Do you remember when we met? Cause’ I do. Do you remember what I said to you? Do you remember what you thought about me? I remember thinking how similar we were, y’know, how much we’d get along. You were so pretty… my whole face went red every time you looked at me. Do you remember…?

Being cuddled, kissed, and protected by the man you love really tempts a girl to doze off, too, so this was not an easy battle. But Sam persisted. He studied your face intently, uttering I love yous even when sleep started to pull you under. Hearing any Winchester drop those words on you still blew your fucking mind, to be honest. Sam especially. But it was romantic as it was worrying, so you’d shut him up with a kiss goodnight and echoed it back to him. Love you, Sammy. It was probably just an anxiety thing, you assumed—Sam, for some fucking reason, was a pretty insecure guy, so you imagined that was his way of making sure you wanted all of this. He seemed… scared. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

The apocalypse was still on. Maybe the world would end tomorrow, or maybe you’d get lucky and live a whole lifetime with Sam. Regardless, he’s never saying yes to Lucifer, and that alone means that there’s still hope for the future. You’re going to spend every second of it making Sam feel wanted.

Sitting up in bed, you scrubbed at your sleepy face with the heel of your hand and stared around the room. Sam was physically incapable of staying asleep after five in the morning, so the familiar evidence of his military-efficient morning routine was all over the place. You smiled to yourself. He’d picked up after the two of you, and had tucked another blanket over you in your sleep. Stupid chivalrous dumbass.

To think, you’d been terrified you’d never see him again just last night.

You push out of bed, only to almost buckle onto the carpet rag-doll style. Even being torturously gentle, that man manages to make you sore. With a very, very happy groan, you hop (and wince) into some clean underwear, then traipse out into your kitchen to show that dork who’s boss.

“Dammit, Samuel, you’re not my maid—” you start to say, but of course, this is Sam, who wouldn’t miss a morning run for anything. Right. That explains your empty kitchen.

…But it’s afternoon. Sam would be back by now. Your gut prickles with a bad feeling, and you superstitiously sweep your apartment, looking for him. His clothes from last night are still sitting in your hamper, his shirt folded neatly in your dresser and his watch on your nightstand. A spike of nausea rolls through you seeing that his jacket is gone—and his boots. But his duffle—it’s. It’s still on your kitchen table. It looks a little smaller than usual, but his books and his laptop are still inside. He probably just ran out to run some silly errand for you, determined to make up for worrying you so much. Yeah.

You force your hunter’s paranoia down to a simmer, padding over to your breakfast table. There’s a big ol’ note smack dab in the center of it, perched on his half-open duffle bag, and you start to play with one of the bracelets Sam left behind as you pick it up.

You cross your fingers, smiling ear-to-ear. “C’mon. All bets on breakfast. Please be getting me breakfast, please be getting me breakfast—”

…That’s not what the note says.

You read it.

Then you read it again, and the hammer falls, crushing the breath out of you and doubling you over the kitchen table. You read the note for the third time, needing to be sure, and the thin sliver of hope you had—maybe you’d just read it wrong, m-maybe he was fine—turns to ash. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

You’re fighting back a surge of ugly, choking tears in an instant. He’s… Sam… he…

Your whole apartment lingers with the heat and goodness of him, like he’d been here just minutes ago. Just seconds. Even your clothes still smell like Sam. Just inhaling it tears chunks out of your reason, like—like you’d just missed him. Clawing around for something to do, you pace in a daze between your bedroom and the front door, desperate to recreate the moment you realized he was gone. You’re still just in the Stanford sweater and your underwear, but you don’t give a single shit and go careening out into the hall, stalking up and down your floor for him—because, b-because Sam wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to you—he would tell you first, he would never leave you in the dark like this—

…But you know Sam. And if it meant fixing his mistakes, saving you, saving everyone… Then he’d say yes in a heartbeat.

“These belong to you. You deserve a world to live in. I’m sorry - Sam.”

- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1@lacilou@cevans-winchester @leigh70@ seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1

[sillygoofyqueer]

ahhh i'm glad you like it!! and you're SPOT ON with the pampering and carrying the other peak lords do<3 whether he's in his small bird form or his big human form with large wings, doesn't matter, he's getting picked up!! (i love liu qingge playing taxi chauffeur and realizing with horror that he likes holding shen qingqiu in his arms a little too much🤭)

so so so, i was just thinking about preening, if this is a canon compliant au, and shen yuan got dropped off in another's body, he probably has no idea how to take care of his bird features, let alone his wings, like how to align the feathers, removing molted ones, dust bathing to remove excess and stale lipids so his plumage stays fluffy, or taking care of pin feathers (new pin feathers have a blood supply flowing through it, if the pin is damaged, it can bleed pretty heavily!), so he just... doesn't. no more than clumsily washing them when he bathes, anyway. and then his wings start itching, and hurting, and the feathers are all askew, and he has all these tattered clumps and pins that hurt when he picks at it and what is he supposed to do...???

naturally, people notice when the prim proper scholar's peak lord, with the perfect hair and flawless skin, has two disheveled wings trailing after him. some of them are worried it might be some sign of self-neglect (also bc it's specifically his demon features that look uncared for), and of course when shen qingqiu coughs once so to speak, yue qingyuan shows up at his doorstep; and i was thinkingggg..... different peak lords taking turns coming to his bamboo house for some casual wing care and preening..... in some bird species preening each other strengthens the trust and bond between the two, for crows it's even a big aspect of social bonding! crows preen their young, their mates, and sick or injured birds, so it's only nature that a ill-feeling shen qingqiu relies on his companions to help him when he's incapable himself...

also because i can't stop imagining shen qingqiu sprawled out across liu qingge or yue qingyuan's lap in bliss while they very carefully align his feathers and tease out molted ones, maybe freeing some matured pin feathers, feeling akin to having his hair brushed and played with while they take care of hard to reach places (thinking about how allopreening birds in nature often have less ticks/healthier plumage bc other birds reach places they can't, but shen jiu probably wouldn't let anyone touch his wings so some parts of them were always a little... messy).

some birds (like parrots) might even overpreen when exposed to strong scents, so all the peak lords quickly learn not to put on too much or heavy perfume because it makes shen qingqiu rub and dig into his wings until feathers fall out

(and i haven't even mentioned the sheer angst potential of stress plucking, but ahh this ask is already so long!!!)

OOOOH MY GOD!!! That's such a wholesome idea. I can already imagine it - and it's always a fight of who gets to preen Shen Qingqiu's wings, to the point where it actually turns into a fight (thanks to Liu Qingge) and it's almost an all-out brawl until Mu Qingfang (the only reasonable peak lord jhebus) makes everyone draw lots to see who gets to do it (- and then cheats because everyone else is so hyped up from the brawl, and his dear shixiong simply cannot deal with such stress!!). It becomes a natural thing to come up with different ways of deciding (unless Shen Qingqiu asks one, then the others just have to choke on vinegar(kiiiidding sort of)), and the peak lord who got to do it last time is not allowed to participate in the next game because that's unfair! Spitballing about how different peak lords go about offering it at first, if I may!! I think that Qi Qingqi would be actually quite gentle about it - she's used to helping out the girls with their hair and other things (shark week 😔😔), so she knows how to go about being like, "hey, I know we don't always get along but I'm going to help you out with your wings, 'kay?" and he is immediately just like "jesus christ please save me from this torment pleasepleaseplease" - kidding, kidding, he'd be much more hesitant about it because he knows that his wings are delicate and he needs to place his trust in whoever's touching them. Qi Qingqi has been...hostile towards him (because of Shen Jiu, so he can't be too offended), and this could be a moment of weakness (- jesus, bestie boo, I'm making him sound like Shen Jiu) but...his wings hurt :[ At first it's awkward, but then Shen Qingqiu relaxes and it does NOT become a gossip session (it should and it does, you can take that from my cold dead hands). Of course, Yue Qingyuan is the first to offer at all, being all like "xiao-Jiu plleeeaaasseeee 🥺" and who is Shen Qingqiu to resist those puppy dog eyes? He seems to have a history with Shen Jiu so it wouldn't be suspicious of him to deign to allow Yue Qingyuan to help out. Of course, Shen Jiu used to let Yue Qingyuan preen his wings on the streets (if we're going that route), so he's skilled and immediately makes Shen Qingqiu feel comfortable as he feels the itchy feeling in his wings FINALLY disappear with every movement the other man makes. Of course, he should be analysing so he can learn to do it himself but...he's so comfy :( When Liu Qingge first does it, it's on a mission! GASP!! Yue Qingyuan sent them on a mission together because it was a matter of both brute force that needed some form of plan involved that wasn't just "grab smash kill" (and mayyybe he wanted his shidi to bond, who cares? Shen Qingqiu has been a lot less hostile recently, and he's going to take advantage). So, they're out on this mission, and it's a LOT fucking harder than they first thought, leaving them waylaid in the forests (stereotypical I know but screw you (/j)). Shen Yuan's (for brevity's sake) wings are slowly getting worse and he's so very uncomfortable but he can't reach the worse bits so he forces himself to abandon his pride for a second and begrudgingly ask Liu Qingge for help! Obviously, Liu Qingge has no clue what he's doing and has to be guided by Shen Yuan (Liu Qingge later claims to not at all be nervous, but his hands were shaking because he didn't mind this new Shen Qingqiu and didn't reaally want to hurt him). The next time Shen Yuan needs his wings preening, Liu Qingge (literally) kicks the door down to offer to do it. He may seem overly aggressive when he manhandles the peak lord, but he's really quite gentle. I do want to yap about the other peak lords, but this answer's really long already!!! If you want me to, please let me know, because I severely want to expose myself as a Mu Qingfang and Wei Qingwei fan and PLEASE tell me more about the angst potential pretty please, I'll be like Yue Qingyuan at your door with puppy dog eyes. I'm INVESTED NOW, GOD.

[macabr3-barbi3]

dream a little dream (of me) - chapter 4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

With new abilities comes fun- and some new problems.

SLOW MOVING BUT WE'RE GETTING THERE FOLKS- have a healthy dose of both plot and angst bc I have no self control hehehe

Those that asked to be tagged (if I missed you or tagged by mistake I AM SORRY AHHH)! @fraugwinska (MY LOVE MY DEAR MY MUSE 💛) @aconstructofamind @littlebluefishtail @spottypug @dennsfz

@bishiglomper @ivebeenthearchersstuff @martinys-world @minamilinaqueen

Tags: Dream Sex; Dreamsharing; Vaginal Sex; Rough Sex; Light Bondage; Dreamwalking; Clone Sex; Threesome - F/M/M; Tentacles; Overstimulation; Angst

Comments and feedback are always loved and appreciated thank u and enjoy 🫶

In the weeks following Alastor ripping his stitches open, you are careful to avoid his dreams- and his bed- so that he can properly recover this time. After his wound heals, when Alastor starts stepping out for errands away from the Hotel again, you start practicing your newfound abilities.

You nap in your own room at times when Husk is off duty and start small- knocking over bottles on the shelf while he speaks with Angel or Charlie in his dreams. Loosening his bowtie so he has to fix it when it starts dangling off his throat. Replacing the alcohol in his glass with various juices and other liquids- and okay, maybe replacing all of the vodka with water was a step too far, since that’s what eventually made Husk start looking around the lobby in suspicion in his dreams. You just hovered on the outer edges of his consciousness, hidden in the shadows of the lobby and watching, messing with things a bit.

Niffty was next, and under any other circumstances you would have felt bad about conjuring a wave of roaches from the closet she was about to open; the little cyclops had a blast though, pulling out her tiny dagger and stabbing away as she was carted off down the hallway, giggling maniacally. It was during this dream that you realized you could vanish, blend into the background of the dreamscape as easily as Alastor shifted into shadows. Niffty had no clue you were there as she rode the wave of bugs into consciousness.

There was only so much that you could really test without the person knowing about it- you didn’t want to try your luck with Vaggie or Charlie without knowing the extent of your abilities, so you finally cave and ask Alastor for permission to enter his dreams to practice some things; simple conjuring, your disappearing act, just generally testing how much control you really had. He also offered up use of his pocket dimension to test the range of your power, which was the first thing that you did together.

Technically with this knowledge you could have figured out a room in the hotel that would prevent you from being close to anyone as you slept. But who wants to climb those extra sets of steps? Better to just stay in Alastor’s room, you figured.

So here you were, in Alastor’s dream version of the bayou, a clearing in the forest laid before you. “The first thing that we should consider,” he tells you, “is that you may not be the only person with powers such as you have. If this is the case, it’s pertinent that both of us learn to distinguish between what is created by the dreamer’s own mind, and what is conjured with your powers. Duplicate this,” he demands, and when he holds out his hand he has a book that he transfers to you before turning around. You concentrate on it, manifesting an identical copy in your opposite hand. Last second, you swap the hand that holds each book before Alastor turns around and takes them back.

He inspects them closely before he gives you back the one that you had created. “It’s very subtle,” he says with a hum, “but if you look and feel closely you can find the differences. Whether that is a matter of your current lack of experience or a side effect of your powers we’ll have to determine.” You run your hands over both of them, actually inspecting rather than just holding them, and can’t find anything different between them. When you tell Alastor this, he simply provides something else for you to duplicate; a silk robe.

This time when you create yours, you take a moment to feel beyond what is in your hand and you think you know what he’s talking about; there’s something a little less corporeal about it even though it’s solid in your hands, the edges almost a little fuzzy if you look too closely. You focus a little harder to see if you can fix that and the lines of the robe sharpen. Satisfied, you have Alastor turn around again, and this time he looks pleasantly surprised.

“Good girl,” he says. “You’re a quick study.” You repeat the exercise a couple more times, the items increasing in size from a radio to a log, finally stumping Alastor with a duplicated taxidermy raccoon- you bring them both to life, and they scamper about between Alastor’s legs before running off into the bayou, evidently vanishing with a snap of his fingers and then yours.

“Excellent,” Alastor commends you, and you glow with the praise, facing away from him still from having turned to watch the raccoons. “We both can tell how to tell your items from those created by the dreamer- now we’ll see if there’s any distinct difference between the dreamer themselves and, say, a duplicate created as a distraction.”

Your inquiry as to what he means is answered when you turn around to face him, and instead of one Alastor there are two.

The pulse of heat in your core at being caught in two of those predatory gazes was distracting, but you could put it aside. “Got it. So am I trying to figure this out just visually?”

The Radio Demons speak in unison, twin smiles in place. “You may touch, if you think that will help.”

You let out a nervous breath and approach, reaching out to the one on the left and trailing your fingers down his arm, focusing hard. You repeat the action on the demon to the right, and you can tell immediately that this one is the clone- its different from when you created duplicates, but there’s still something that almost tingles under your fingers when you touch it that gives it away, where the real Alastor hadn’t given off a similar sensation. Just to be sure, you run your hand over the expanse of its shoulders, noticing the way that the demon beside you stiffens ever so slightly, eyes narrowing and smile going tense at the way you’re touching it.

An idea clicks into your head- wicked, devious, something that Alastor would surely disapprove of. But with such an opportunity presented, how could you deny the whim?

You stand in Alastor’s space, much closer than you would normally allow yourself, and crane up on your tiptoes to get in his face. “This is the decoy,” you say confidently, and the one that stands behind you speaks instead of the true version.

“What makes you so sure?” Even the voice is ever so slightly off, a tint to the tone of the voice that you only pick up on because you’re listening so closely. “Choose your words carefully, dear, lest you insult me.”

You shrug, tone nonchalant. “There’s just something about this one,” you say towards the real Alastor, stepping back and circling around him, letting your fingers trail along his coat sleeve. “It doesn’t feel quite as… real as you do.” You turn to face the duplicate, startling a bit when it’s closer than you anticipated. “I think I’ve had enough practice touching you in your dreams to know the real thing.”

“Is that so?” Alastor murmurs behind you, and it takes everything in you not to turn at the sound, lean back into him. “Well then, perhaps you’d care to make a little wager?”

“Maybe.” You feel your shoulders stiffen when he presses against you from behind, chest against the expanse of your back and hands settling on your waist. “What do you have in mind?”

Clone Alastor brings its hands up to cup your face. “If you stay convinced that I am the real Alastor,” it whispers, face coming to one side to whisper tenderly in your ear, “then you win. Your reward can be whatever you would like.”

“However! If I manage to break your conviction and change your mind,”  Alastor says from the other side. “I win. And if I win, my reward is that you allow me to experiment and test your abilities- both within and outside a dream- to my heart’s content.”

“Hmm.” You could always just lie, you supposed- what way would Alastor have of knowing that you were telling the truth? He couldn’t tell now- this would be an easy win for you. And maybe getting to see Alastor get a little jealous would be a nice bonus. “I accept. I’m pretty convinced though.” Just to really sell the point, you press your hands against the chest of the clone, run them over the fabric, tilt your head up to look into its eyes.

Alastor huffs behind you. “Very well. Perhaps you require a reenactment of the things we’ve done in dreams thus far- just to be sure? Make sure that you really recognize the touch.” His hands come up from your waist to cup your breasts, shirt vanishing at the contact and his thumbs brushing softly over your nipples. Your breath leaves you in a shaky exhale, the duplicate stepping ever closer and bringing its lips down to meet yours. 

There’s an underlying current of static to the kiss, something that doesn’t happen when you kiss Alastor. It’s not unpleasant, and you moan into it, playing it up just a tad for the benefit of the demon that stands behind you, letting a soft tremble take over your body that wasn’t entirely for show.

“What do you think, darling?” Alastor drags his tongue up the length of your neck, sharp teeth nipping at your jawline. “Still convinced?” He sucks on the soft skin, almost too hard before pulling back with a kiss to the tender spot. His nimble fingers pluck at the sensitive peaks of your breasts, chest pressing further into the front of the duplicate who licks into your mouth with intent, biting gently at your lips.

“Perhaps you need a bit more to really cement your resolve,” it says into the kiss, bending to nuzzle at your neck on the opposite side from Alastor. “It would be unfair to expect you to guess without all of the same experiences.”

Despite the sensations of pleasure taking over your body, you still find the energy to snark at him, “not guessing. I know.” And twist your fingers into the soft (but not as soft) locks of the clone’s hair, dragging it closer to your skin and grinding your hips against his and the growing erection that you find there.

Snaps sound in unison and their clothes disappear to wherever yours had gone, and a hot length of hardness presses against you from either side- Alastor against the plush curve of your ass and his clone against your pelvis and hip. “By the time I’ve finished,” they say, the static that hisses between them by your head making you dizzy with arousal, “you won’t know anything but my name.”

There are hands sliding down your body then, Alastor slipping a finger into your wetness while his clone thumbs at your clit, both of them gently rutting against your soft skin. You let your head drop back onto Alastor’s shoulder, and the menacing grin that you find on his face forces a shaky exhale from your mouth. “S-seems like a lot of work to change my mind,” you murmur, and he steals your mouth in a bruising kiss.

“Nothing with you is ever work, darling,” he whispers when he pulls back, another finger added to your slick cunt, his fingers crooking against the soft bunch of nerves and making you gasp and arch. The clone drops his head from your shoulder trail nips and kisses down your chest, his tongue circling a nipple and sucking lightly. “I think of it more like an investment in my personal entertainment- and pleasure.” 

You feel the way you clamp down on his fingers at that, and the clone scrapes his teeth against your sensitive breast- you whimper, reaching down to pull its face up so you can meet his mouth as well. When Alastor growls behind you, you ask, “what? Equal screen time is only fair.”

His smile turns treacherous. “You’ll want to keep that in mind, dear- I plan to hold you to it.”

With that his fingers leave you, arousal dripping to the forest floor as his hands come to your shoulders and pull, the same moment that the clone grips your legs and lifts, automatically wrapping them around your waist so you don’t fall. You’re left in the position of some kind of odd bridge between them, left staring up at the stars through the canopy of the trees in the bayou, the questioning of it dying on your lips when the thick cock of the clone pushes into you- slowly, relentlessly, not stopping until he’s buried to the hilt inside of you with his claws digging into the flesh of your hips.

If you hadn’t already been aware that the demon behind you was the real one, the way he hisses through his teeth would have given him away- Alastor can feel it, you know he can, the tight grip of your walls clenching down on the clone’s length somehow happening in duplicate on him, his hands tightening their hold on your upper body where you lean into his chest. And this, at least, doesn’t feel too different from the real thing; the second Radio Demon fills you perfectly, hips pressed flush to yours before pulling back and bucking forward again, a shock of pleasure that ripples through your body and forces a cry from your lips. The angle of the way they’re holding you pushes him right against the sweet spot inside.

When a couple of claw tipped fingers come down to press against your clit in soft circles you’re done for, the strength of your orgasm causing you to whimper and drop your head back against Alastor’s chest, body tensing and shaking as the clone rides out the waves of it. You wait for his release but it doesn’t come- no flood of heat inside of you or spilling onto your exposed skin. Your eyes open, watching the clone through blurry eyes and trying to raise your head up.

Your body is shifting then, shadows emerging from both demons to effectively flip you in the opposite direction, clinging to the duplicate’s chest now as Alastor presses his erection against you again, a couple tendrils of darkness wrapped securely around your waist and legs to support you from below. “What-”

“It’s not a fair game if we don’t both get a turn,” says the Alastor in front of you, grin dangerous as he whispers against your forehead, and you’re being entered again, faster this time since you’re already slick and open and ready for him. The force of it punches the air out of your lungs, exhaling wetly into the chest of the dream manifestation before you.

Claws dig into you, sinfully delicious little marks that you know will appear on your body when you awaken. “Or two turns,” comes Alastor’s staticky voice behind you- or, maybe in front of you? With your eyes clenched shut and your focus so completely on the pleasure being wrung from your body, you can’t quite tell where it’s coming from, which one of them is speaking. You had thought there was a difference in the way they sounded but-

“Maybe three.” 

“Four, even. Equal screen time and all that, like you said. Until we’ve had our fill and you’re absolutely certain which of us is which.” This is accompanied by a sharp thrust of Alastor’s hips, the slapping sound of skin overwhelming in the relative quiet of the bayou. It’s loud and lewd and arousing as anything as he fucks into you, your cunt clamping down with a fierce single-mindedness to keep him inside of you, even as the wetness it creates eases the slide out and back into your body.

“What do you think, dearest?” You can’t even tell which one is speaking any longer, your mouth lolled open against the bare chest of the clone who sweeps a comforting hand over your hair as the real deal fucks you into a cock drunk stupor. “You’re still sure which of us is the duplicate?”

“Y-yes,” you manage, but only because you know that when you started the dream version of Alastor was in front of you. You dig your fingers into his neck and moan, high and unashamed, and feel claws pierce the skin of your hips, a rumbling growl tearing itself from Alastor’s chest. “I- I would know the real thing anywhere- this,” you say, with a forceful, intentional clench around him, knowing you’ll regret this when you wake and all of the aches and bruises appear on your real life body, “is a p-poor imitation .”

He snarls, and you see the shadows of his antlers grow in your peripheral vision. “This poor imitation is going to make you cum, sweetheart, how does that sound?” 

“Like a challenge.”

His laugh is dark, one of the shadows coming up from below you to push and grind hard against your clit above where you’re speared on his length. “Th-that’s cheating!” You cry out; the feeling is intense, almost too soon after your last orgasm, pleasure that teeters on the edge of painful . The clone holds you tighter against his chest, soothing touches to your back and head as you’re made to take the cock inside of you and the tentacle thing that plays you with a mindless conviction. “Oh, God, fuck -”

“You forget that I play to win,” he says simply, his speed increasing, and another tendril of shadow slips into you alongside his cock, narrow and squirming in a different rhythm. “The method matters little if the end result is what I want.”

You choke a little when this orgasm hits you, vision darkening on the edges as your body seizes in his grasp, jerking uncontrollably as the force of it slams into you. Again, there’s no spilling of warmth inside your pussy, Alastor’s release once again postponed for whatever reason.

They pass you back and forth like this for a couple more rounds, each time growing more fervent and rough in their handling of your body while they are inside you, only to brush your hair back from your face and whisper sweet, filthy words into your ear while you cling to their arms and your sanity. Your body is drenched in sweat, inner thighs coated in the evidence of your arousal and orgasms- limbs trembling with the effort to keep your head up and your eyes open. You can’t tell them apart by touch anymore, a hand on your body at any given time as they switch your position and pass you between each other, your mind completely gone as you cum another time, body twitching with the pair of them holding you through it.

Immediately after, you lose the comforting presence on either end of your body when both of them step away from you, another couple of tentacles wrapping around you to keep you still as you pant and shake, body weak and trembling. “Alastor?” They’ve both slipped into the shadows, a whirl of noise in the space around you, and when you open your eyes they’re rematerializing- and fuck, you’re already so overly stimulated that you can’t tell them apart by sight alone either, vision still blurry from the power of your last release. The shadows make a sort of shelf beneath you, allowing you to drop your head back into the gentle embrace of something soft and billowy.

They speak in unison now as they approach. “Final determination now, darling,” they say, a hand on either hip. “Which of us is the real thing?” 

The wager is the last thing on your mind as you turn towards him, desperate for the more solid connection that the real Radio Demon provides in the dream scene. “Alastor,” you whine, reaching for him, digging your nails into what you can reach if his arm. “Please-“

His smile is devious when the duplicate disappears with a puff of smoke and he slots himself between your legs, pushing forward with a sharp snap that has you keening, head falling back as his claws push into the plush flesh of your hips. “It would appear,” he murmurs, “that you’ve lost the wager, dearest- you’ve changed your mind.”

“Don’t care,” you cry out, grip ironclad where you hold him, spare hand coming up to hold his shoulder like a vice. “Please, Alastor, I’m- I can’t go again, please.” Your body is aching and sore, muscles trembling from how many times they’ve tensed and released and shuddered through an orgasm at his hands. You don’t think that you can do it again; it might honestly shove you from the realm of the dream with how overwhelmed you are.

“Darling, darling,” he whispers, drawing his hips back and pushing forward in a steady rhythm, letting his hands run over your hands wherever he can reach and letting a tentacle reach up to rub at your sensitive clit. “You’ve got one more for me, I’m sure of it. Cum for me one more time, sweetness- let me feel you after taking us both and show you much better the real thing is when I flood your cunt with my release.”

Your stomach swoops with sharp arousal- you’ll never get enough of him talking like that, all traces of the prim and proper Radio Demon gone when he’s desperate to orgasm, buried inside your cunt with no radio filter and no thoughts in that lovely head but to drag you over the edge with him. An edge that, currently, is far too close and threatening to destroy you. “Al- Alastor, please, I can’t,” even as the tension pulls ever tighter, the tentacle at the apex of your thighs unrelenting in its focus, legs shaking uncontrollably where Alastor has wrapped them around his waist, his own steady rhythm stuttering. 

“With me, sweetheart,” he says, and the words are tinted like a plea, like he needs it. “Cum with me-” He bends down over you, tongue sliding against yours in your mouth before he turns, teeth sinking into your neck as he spends himself with a muffled groan against your skin, pulses of wet warmth inside of you that have you crying out into the silence of the bayou when your own orgasm tears through you.

You’re shattering- splintering into fractals of consciousness as you’re torn from the space of the dream. 

You don’t immediately wake though- pleasure jolts through you with the force of an arc flash but somehow you’re still asleep, flashes of something zipping by you as your- spirit? Soul? Whatever you currently were, you were catching glimpses along your peripheral vision as you moved; scenes of Alastor’s dreams, moments of his life, his face non-smiling and dark, covered in blood, a bullet hole between his eyes, and there was his mother again, as she had been in the first dream you had seen her.

You feel like taffy, being stretched and compressed hundreds of times over the span of what couldn’t be more than a few moments. You don’t think these are things that Alastor is currently seeing or dreaming about, which means that somehow you’ve gone further into his consciousness than his dreams- you might even be in his subconscious, you think, as you see snippets of a memory with Husker, eyes angry and hurt; Niffty, dirty and bloodstained as Alastor offers her a hand; yourself, the way that he had seen you in the dream with his mother, eyes wide and frightened when you had stepped on the stick that gave your position away.

And then there’s more of you, moments that he had apparently been observing you when you weren’t aware. It’s from his own point of view, eyes dropping down to your hand where it rests on Angel’s forearm at the bar, tracing the line of your arm where it’s draped affectionately over Charlie’s shoulder. He’s watched you everywhere, scenes of yourself in front of the fireplace in his room, curled up on a lobby couch, sitting in the main office with plans for guest events laid out before you, an irritated crease in your brow. You see yourself sleeping in the bed in his room where he had apparently stood over you, a clawed finger reaching out to brush your hair back from your face; there’s a rumbling of speech that you can’t make out as he says something and you stir in your sleep, face going slack with a small smile taking over your features. 

The scene fades, and the sharp pleasure of your explosive orgasm returns with force, your eyes opening in reality with a choked off cry as your body trembles with the aftershocks of it, hand digging into Alastor’s arm where he lays next to you. The overwhelming feeling fades finally, and your muscles go slack against the mattress, finally turning to look at him.

His eyebrows are creased in concentration, smile still present but a bit strained. “Where were you?” He asks softly, and when you cock your head a bit he clarifies- “I was awake. But you were… elsewhere, it would seem.”

You don’t think he’ll appreciate you being in his mind like you were, but you don’t have many other options as far as figuring out what the fuck that was. “I think I was… in your head? Like your thoughts and memories. Sorry,” you add as an afterthought. “I didn’t mean to- I’m still learning, I don’t really understand what happened-”

“You were in my mind despite my being awake?” Alastor doesn’t look upset at the revelation- rather, he looks intrigued. “It seems that your power is changing- how entertaining!” He jumps up from the bed, the clothes he had fallen asleep in rumpled and wrinkled. He doesn’t seem to care as he starts pacing around the bed. “This is all speculation of course, but it would seem to me that the excessive stimulation in my dream has caused another bond to form with your powers- no longer just between your physical and dream forms, but between your powers and the real world. Fascinating!” His grin is wide, manic when he looks back at you. “And what perfect timing, now that I’ve won a wager that allows me all sorts of rights to experimentation with your powers and abilities. We’re going to have such fun with this, darling-” He continues to ramble and you watch him pace as he does, one turn allowing something to catch your eye.

A bruise on Alastor’s collarbone- where you had held him in the dream, your thumb digging into the skin that covered the bone, apparently hard enough to leave a mark. None of the marks you had left on him in the past had ever manifested like this in the real world; his theory about the links between your dream self and reality seeming more plausible, if you could inflict something physical on him from a dream.

Might as well tell him now. “Alastor,” you interrupt him, and rise from the bed to stand before him, brushing your thumb over the discolored flesh. “Look-”

His eyes go dark, dials flickering when he grins down at you. “Another mystery to experiment with,” he says. “We’ll have to determine if the ability to leave physical alterations is limited to just myself- since you spend the most time in my dreams, I would presume your powers have developed a sort of bond to my mind- or if you could do this to others.”

Your hands freeze on his chest. “What do you mean, ‘others?’ I don’t- I’m not doing anything like this with anyone else.” 

“No need to worry, dearest, I didn’t mean the more intimate aspects! I merely meant markings in general- say, if you were to cut someone with your claws, or take a bite from them. Would that manifest in the real world?” His antlers expand, green stitches appearing at the edges of his smile. “Imagine the ease of being able to kill someone in a dream without ever having to be in the room! Oh, the possibilities are thrilling-”

“I’m not doing that.” You let your touch fall from his skin, taking a step back at the clear delight on his face in thinking about you killing someone. “That’s… that’s not what I’m here for, Alastor, I don’t want to use my power like that.” 

“You would rather waste your potential? Regardless, we had a wager, my dear, one that you lost- it was made in a dream but it’s still binding. For the sake of experimenting you’ll do whatever I ask of you; that was the condition, was it not?” Something green glows in his hands- not a chain like you had seen on others with a legitimate soul deal, but something like a rope, a leash. He tugs on it gently, enough to make you lose your balance and stumble forward where it pulls at your wrist.

This was the Alastor you had seen in the first dreams of his- ruthless, bloodthirsty, angry. Gone was the softer version of him that you had come accustomed to, the one you had glimpsed in the dream with his mother, in the memories you had seen. You needed to get away-

No sooner had the thought come than there was a blast of light from your palms, startling Alastor into releasing the cord that tied you to him. Your steps falter backwards and put space between the two of you, no time to think about what had just happened; the hurt look in Alastor’s eyes is the last thing that you see before you turn and bolt from the room.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54459367/chapters/142955671

[lostgirlmuseum]

howdy howdy cadence, I saw you’re taking requests and I wanted to send in some love and ideas 💕💕💕💕

If you feel comfortable, could you write a story about the reader and Bucky navigating intimacy (non sexual or sexual kind, up to you) after his years with hydra? It doesn’t have to be smut, it’s all up to you! I really love how you wrote Give Me a Sign, and I think you’d write that scenario really well.

enjoy your break!!! 💕

AHHH You are so sweet River Ilysmmm💕💕💕💕 I absolutely loved this request, and I hope I did it justice

I Like You (A Lot)

Pairing: Bucky x GN!Reader

Summary: You can't help but notice the way Bucky becomes uncomfortable around you, and you help him find peace in your touch.

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: No use of Y/N, reader is briefly described as having hair that is long enough to be tucked, fluff, teeniest bit of angst(?), pls kindly let me know if I'm missing anything

A/N: I hope you like it my loves!

(@saradika for dividers)

“This is me,” you said, stopping in front of your building door. 

“It’s cute.” Bucky nodded, and stuck his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

You and Bucky had been friends for a couple years now, and worked together at the compound for even longer. But it wasn’t until last week that Bucky finally found the guts to ask you on a first date. He took you to a cute retro styled diner, then to explore some cute bookshops, and ended the night with a walk around town. Not to mention he even brought you flowers when he came to pick you up, and those were currently soaking in a vase in your kitchen.

“I had a really great time tonight.” You smiled.

“Me too.” He avoided your eyes and kept his gaze on the sidewalk. He gently swayed back and forth.

“Really?” 

“Really.” Bucky assured you, giving you a quick shy smile before bringing his gaze back to the ground.

“Good.” 

You were waiting for him to make a move, ask to come in, do something at all, but he just stood there, subtly rocking from foot to foot. After another couple awkward moments of you waiting for him to hug or kiss you, you gave up and filled the silence. 

“Um, did you want to come in? I was thinking we could maybe watch a movie.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, only if you want. No pressure.” 

You fidgeted with the gloves on your hands, carefully tugging each finger off before sliding it back on. 

“Okay,” he eventually answered, voice somewhat quiet.

“Yeah?” 

“Sure.” 

You suppressed your giddy smile and led him to your apartment. After toeing off your boots, stuffing your gloves in your coat pockets, and placing your coat on the hanger, you began to walk to the kitchen.

“Take a seat on the couch, I’m going to make some popcorn. You can cue up a movie.” 

“What did you want to watch?” Bucky’s voice flowed through the doorway separating the kitchen from the living room.

“Anything, up to you,” you called, grabbing a popcorn bag from the pantry.

“Sam has been saying I need to watch ‘Inception’, have you heard of it?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his question.

“I’ve seen it, it’s a pretty popular movie. Total mindfuck, but I’d love to see it again. Is that what you want to watch?”

“If that’s okay with you.”

“Absolutely. Find out where it's streaming and pull it up.”

A couple minutes and a freshly popped bag of popcorn later, you placed the bowl on the coffee table and sat next to Bucky on the couch.

At first you were a couple of inches away from him, but after he pressed play on the movie, you slowly started to migrate closer to him. You started by putting your leg up on the ottoman, and oops! It brushed against his leg! But you started to feel self-conscious when he moved his leg a little to the left to not touch yours. As the couch cushions began to sink slightly at the weight, you found yourself sitting closer to Bucky’s side.

You were debating whether to pull the classic “yawn, stretch your arm, and rest it behind their head” move, but your heart stopped when you noticed Bucky tense beside you. And you knew it wasn’t the movie that was bothering him.

You silently grabbed the TV remote and paused the movie. You sat up a bit straighter, and scooched a bit away from Bucky to give him some distance, as well as face him.

“Bucky?”

He hummed in question, and met your gaze.

 “I’m going to ask you a question, and please be honest with me.” You didn’t give him a chance to respond. You took a deep breath and asked, “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” his answer came quickly, and seemed honest enough, but you were skeptical. 

“Are you sure? Because everytime I get close to you, you get really tense. And it’s completely okay if you want me to give you some space, I just need you to tell me that.”

Bucky sighed.

“It’s not that I don’t like you close to me, it’s just…I don’t know, it’s uncomfortable, but not in the way that it feels bad. It’s just really unfamiliar to me. I don’t have a lot of experience with stuff like this, and my body can’t help but respond to it with fear. I know, I know it’s stupid.” He rested his head back on the pillow and looked at the ceiling. 

“It’s not stupid.”

“I feel stupid. I wish I could be the perfect guy for you, I really do. I’m sorry I’m so awkward,” he cringed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I wanted tonight to be perfect, but clearly I’m fucking it all up.”

“Bucky, you haven’t fucked anything up.” You urged him to look at you and reminded yourself not to place a hand on his knee. “I know your past has been cruel to you. I need you to know that you are safe here with me, and I’m happy as long as you’re happy. I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for. I’m in no rush.”

“I want to be close to you. I just don’t know how. But I want to try.”

At those last words, he carefully placed his right hand over yours.

“Oh Bucky,” you giggled, finding his effort endearing. You clasped his right hand with both of yours and soothingly rubbed your thumb over the ridges of his hand. You slowly brought his knuckles to your lips. “Is this too much?”

He swallowed and shook his head ‘no’.

“Can I see your other hand?”

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why?’” You asked, and let go of his hand.

“It’s not flesh, remember?”

“Of course I know that, Bucky. It’s still a part of you.”

Hesitantly, he showed you his left hand. You saw the scrunch in his brows as you placed your hand in his, and interlocked your fingers. After giving his metal hand a quick kiss, you unlocked your fingers, and carefully brought his palm to your cheek.

“Is this okay?”

“It doesn’t scare you?” He shook his head in disbelief. 

“No. It’s a piece of you. And I trust you. I always have, I always will. I like you a lot, Bucky Barnes.”

You slowly removed your hand from his, and you smiled at the way he kept his hand cupping your cheek. 

“I like you a lot, too. Have for a while.” He huskily whispered, carefully gliding his hand to tuck a strand of hair that had fallen behind your ear. 

“Oh yeah? How long?” You asked, leaning further into his palm.

His cold hand left your warm skin and he looked up and smiled as if remembering.

“Remember that mission in Munich two years ago? The one where we found all the stolen weapons and then got gelato after? Since then.”

You beamed. 

“Can I try something?”

He softly nodded and let you guide him to lay down on the couch to where his head was resting in your lap. You warned him that you were going to put your hands in his hair, and he gave a soft hum of understanding. He tensed at first, but quickly relaxed as you drew your fingers through his hair, drawing soothing patterns into his scalp.

“This is okay? Not too much?” 

“S’ good.” He slurred, and allowed himself to close his eyes.

You noticed the crease in his brows had smoothed. 

“I like your touch,” he whispered. “I like you.”

“That’s a relief,” you joked, and continued your motions. 

A lazy smile made its way onto his face as you brought a thumb to the bridge of his nose, and started to stroke the spot between his eyebrows. 

“Please don’t stop.” He hummed.

“For you? Never.”

Thank you for reading/liking/reblogging/commenting/following!!!

If you liked it, please let me know!

[visionsofcarnality]

Ahhh thankyou for accepting the nightwing request, I'm so excited!! 💙💙

Dude the angst in this one spoke to me Im so excited.

It Will Come Back. D. Grayson.

“Honey, don’t feed me. I will come back.”

Synopsis: In a fight with a Court of Owls’ Talon, Nightwing is exposed to the weaponized Alice Tetch Virus (Hugo Strange weaponized strain.) This preys on his fears of being unable to protect his partner… Who comes face to face with a darker version of her lover’s alter-ego…

Warnings: Hallucinations (Auditory, tactile, and visual.), kidnapping, restraints, blood contagions, needles, injuries. Mention of mild gore and violence. Toxic mindset, personality alteration. Established relationship, female partner/reader. No use of Y/N.

(mdni below the cut, i am beyond dead serious)

Dick made it as far as three blocks from the Talon’s dead body before he started to hear things.

“You need to seriously consider what being in a committed relationship means for people like us.” Bruce slammed his hand down on the table tiredly, running the other through his inky hair, the strands showing a few hairs of grey amidst the darkness. “Every second you spend with her amplifies the danger she’s in.”

“You think I don’t know that…” He whispered, replaying the past week’s conversation as he leaned against an alley wall, clutching his head.

“She’s not safe. She never will be as long as she’s in your life.” The sound of the door slamming as he remembered he’d left the room after that particular remark.

He opened his eyes and tried to stand, blood rushing through his body at unnatural speeds. He looked down at his hands and ripped one glove off, breath stuttering as he noticed red veins climbing his skin.

“No…” He whispered. “No, no, no-“ He pulled his glove back on hastily, whipping around when he caught a glimpse of gold and green.

“Get the fuck away from me!” He hissed, glaring after the invisible attacker.

“Dick…” A soft, feminine voice. “That’s not what you really want.” A tall woman in a red, gold and green outfit appeared from the shadows, blood dripping down the side of her head just like the last time he’d seen her.

“Mom-“ He reached out a hand briefly before pulling it back. “What are- You’re dead.”

“Whose fault is that, Dick…” She laughed softly. “You think changing your uniform and your name makes you any less of my little flightless Robin.” Her soothing tone was so at odds with her words.

“Stop.” He begged, covering his ears, screaming aloud when blood suddenly spurted from her skull near her ear and a large, domed piece of bone fell from her head, pulling her scalp and some of her hair with it, leaving one side of her head cracked open like an acorn.

“Do you know what it feels like to fall, Dick?” She murmured dangerously, lifting her bloodied hand and touching his cheek, the contact hot, wet, and sticky. “To hit the ground with only your body to take the fall?”

“Stop it!” He shoved her back, her spin colliding with the opposite wall of the alley, her body splaying and cracking exactly how it had looked in the crime scene photos. How it had looked in his memories. The blood pooled on the wall as though she was lying flat, her body and the liquid defying gravity. Chunks of gray matter littered the wall.

Panting, eyes flitting about wildly, sprinting away from the alley and leaping to one of the lower rooftops, hauling himself above the streets.

“You think you can protect her, but you’re wrong!” That was Bruce now, standing in his path as he sprinted across the gravel rooftop. He skidded to a halt to avoid the collision, coming nose to nose with the taller man. “Everything you touch dies!” He hissed, and when Dick looked down he was clutching a familiar bloodied Robin uniform in his white knuckles.

“Your mother!” Bruce shouted, “Your father! Jason!” He lifted the blood stained uniform, dangling it in front of his face.

“It’s not my fault!” Dick cried desperately, closing his eyes only to open them and see that there was nobody there.

He had to get home. He had to get home. He had to make sure you were safe. His thoughts ran wild, preparing for any twisted and violent scene he’d come across when he entered your apartment.

You screamed when a body tumbled through your bedroom window, scrambling from your bed and backing against the wall.

“Baby-“ The man called but you didn’t wait, spinning to sprint for the door before two wide hands caught you by the arm and the torso, tugging you back against a hard body before a hand covered your mouth and nose.

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna keep you safe.” The rough voice spoke hotly against your ear, your arms and legs thrashing violently as he cut off your oxygen. “You’re gonna be safe. Nothing will hurt you. Ever.” Your fight started to give and your eyes fluttered closed, your chest aching from the lack of oxygen… Then you were gone to sleep.

You woke next with your head on something hard, groaning at the headache. You were cold. And damp… Where the hell were you? Opening your eyes wider you looked around, spotting the steep, water-slick walls. The ceiling arching high above your head. A subway station. Abandoned by the looks of it.

“Don’t worry.” A dark voice called from the shadows, causing you to scramble to your feet and back away, tears pricking in your eyes. “You’re safe now.”

“You can’t keep me here.” You spoke shakily, hands rubbing your arms against the cold and dampness. “People will come looking for me.” Your voice shook with uncertainty, watching the stranger’s head tilt in the low light, the movement slow and unsettling. “They’ll arrest you.” You swallowed, hard. “My boyfriend is a detective he finds missing people every week.” You tried to force more bravado into your voice than you felt, especially as the stranger slowly unfolded to his feet, moving in a strange, unnatural way like some demon.

He stepped out of the shadows and as the light spilled across his face you cried out weakly, putting one hand to your face in shock.

“Nobody’s gonna come looking for you, baby.” He spoke, his voice stranger and darker than you’d ever heard it. “You’re safe here.”

“Dick-“ You broke off, noting the prominent red veins on the whites of his eyes and tracking up his neck to his cheek, splaying across his face like a bloodied cobweb. “What are you-“

“I’ve got to keep you safe.” He hissed, getting closer even as you tried to back away, fear poignant in your body language. “No one will be able to find you here.”

Tears fell down your cheeks as he backed you against the wall, turning your head as he dipped his to get into your space, his hot breath, once welcome and comforting, now feeling like a threat.

“I’m doing this for you.” He insisted, gripping your cheek to turn your face harshly, his hold on your jaw bruising. “Can’t you see that? Everything I do, it’s always for you!” He was shouting now, triggering a low cry of shock and fear, your knees buckling as you slid down the wall, sinking to the floor and clutching your legs fearfully.

“Don’t!” He screamed, gripping his hair with one hand and stepping back, reeling. “You don’t get it-“ He sighed heavily, shaking his head back and forth and lifting a hand erratically before he turned out of nowhere to scream at the wall.

“Shut the fuck up!” He screeched, pointing at the empty space. “All of you! I need to fucking think!” He gripped his head in both hands.”

You watched his outburst through your tears, your whole body trembling in fear, scared of what he was capable of… You’d never seen him like this. You thought you’d known him but… maybe he was this all along. Maybe it was all a front. You didn’t want to think like that, but the man in front of you was not the one you’d come to love.

There was something seriously wrong with him.

“Dick, just-“ You swallowed hard, trying to put on a gentle tone. “Let’s take a walk, let’s go up to the street, we can go talk about this.” You tried to think of a way to convince him. “It’s cold down here, Dick, I’ll get sick.”

“No!” He roared, whipping back to you and throwing a knife in your direction. You screamed in terror, arms coming up to protect your head. Bit the knife landed next to you, not hurting you, but discouraging you from moving. “It’s not fucking safe up there? Don’t you get it? Nowhere is safe! You’re not safe unless you’re here!” He ranted, arms flailing in large gestures as he spoke. “With me! I’m the only one you can trust!” He insisted, desperation lacing his dangerous tone. “Me! I’m the one who keeps you safe!”

“Nightwing.” Another voice joined the cacophony. Both your heads turning in the direction of the deep timbre of the newcomer. Like an oil spill out of the shadow a dark cowl appeared, a long, shadowy cape following. The flash of a black symbol on dark gray armor.

The Batman…

“Stop this.” He said flatly, casually strolling between you two, slowly, trying not to trigger any sudden movements. “You’re not yourself.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Dick- Nightwing; shouted. “I told you to go away already!” He surged forward, some kind of long baton appearing in his hand, crackling with electricity as he lifted his arm in a deadly swing. The Batman dodged him, ducking behind the lithe man and locking his arms below his armpits, effectively putting him in a full nelson with one, thick arm.

“I’m not a hallucination, Dick.” The Batman spoke lowly. “You have to stop this. This is the virus, not you.” He jerked Dick’s head towards your cowering form, still sobbing quietly, terrified to move. “Look at her. You’re scaring her.” The Batman took the moment of hesitation from Dick as he stared at you to shove a thick syringe into his exposed neck.

Dick howled in rage, twisting and fighting in the Batman’s hold before falling limp, head dropping forward. The Batman restrained him at his hands and ankles on the ground before approaching you. “He’s unconscious. Unharmed.” He soothed, crouching to lift you to your feet. “I’m sorry this happened to you.” He apologized, unhooking his cape from his armor and draping it over your shoulders against the cold. “He isn’t himself. He was infected with a virus that caused him to act like this.” When your gaze wandered past him to Dick’s slumped form. He tipped your head away from the sight, far gentler than Dick had been. You’d no doubt be sporting a bruise by the morning. “That wasn’t him.” He spoke softly.

“Will he be…” You swallowed hard. “Will he be… him again?” You asked, wiping hasty tears across your cheeks even as more joined them.

“Yes.” The Batman said solemnly, turning to look at Dick. “For him… This will all have been a cruel dream.” He turned towards you again, “For you… It will be harder to go back. I can keep him away for a few days. Give you some space.” You nodded fervently, whimpering softly as your tears began anew.

“Red Robin, an associate of mine, is coming to make sure you get home safe.”

“I need to get to a hotel…” You spoke absently. “I can’t… I can’t go back home tonight.”

The Batman nodded. “He’ll leave you at a Hyatt. The room will be paid for for a week. Your clothes and any belongings you need will be dropped at the address.” He turned away, strolling back to you Dick. “Tell my associate what you need. We will make sure you have it.”

You stood there, wrapped in the most notorious vigilante in Gotham’s cape, watching him haul your unconscious boyfriend over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You didn’t remember telling Red Robin what you needed, or him finding a way to get you set up in a hotel for the week.

You only remembered collapsing on the hotel mattress, still wrapped in the borrowed cape.

And crying yourself to sleep.

[burrowbarbie]

warning: smut, angst (if you squint), MINORS DNI

"Wait, I thought Rory was dating Dean? When did she get with Luke's nephew?" Joe asked.

You looked up from your computer to see Joe intently watching your TV. He had come over to spend some time with you and do some homework while you studied.

"Did you watch some of this without me?" Joe teased.

"You need to focus on your work. I thought that is why you came over here in the first place."

Joe let out a laugh and turned back to the TV, leaving you to continue working. But your attention kept being drawn to him as he sat at your desk, leaning against the chair with his legs spread apart. You couldn't help but notice how thick and muscular his thighs were. As he pushed his hair back and chewed on a pencil, you found yourself unable to look away.

"Are you almost done?" Joe asked. He caught you staring at him and it made you feel embarrassed, so you quickly tried to focus on your work again. You hoped he wouldn't bring it up, but then you saw him get up and walk towards you.

"I think you're done," Joe said, closing your laptop.

You had been hanging out with Joe for a few weeks now, trying to make time in both of your busy schedules to meet up whenever possible. You had gone for quick lunches, hung out at each other's dorms after practices, and even went off campus a few times to watch movies or have dinner together. But due to the short amount of time you had alone, things between you two hadn't gone beyond heavy make-out sessions.

As Joe sat next to you and started rubbing your thigh, you could feel the anticipation building for a kiss. But just as he leaned in closer, Hazel walked in through the door.

Hazel exclaimed, "Ahhh! I didn't see anything. They tell you to put a sock on the door for a reason," covering her eyes with her hands.

You rolled your eyes and Hazel playfully smirked at you.

"My class is over and I am free to go home! I just need to grab my bags and head out," Hazel said as she gathered her things. She was leaving early for Thanksgiving break.

As Hazel prepared to leave, she turned to Joe, "Good luck at the game on Saturday! I can't wait to see the team crush A&M."

She mockingly made the A&M hand sign and Joe laughed, thanking her. You were happy that they got along so well.

"Maybe you can convince her to come to a game finally," Hazel teased as she walked out the door. "Love you!" she yelled before closing the door.

Joe gave you a curious look. "I've been meaning to ask, but why haven't you come to one of my games?"

You paused for a moment, realizing that Joe had never pressured you to attend a game but always celebrated with you afterwards.

"I get nervous in large crowds and when there's too much noise," you admitted. "That's why I always watch them from home. Plus, your team seems to do well without me there. What if I go and jinx it?"

Joe chuckled and shook his head. "That wouldn't happen."

He took your hand in his, looking into your eyes earnestly. "It would mean a lot to me if you came this weekend. I'll even buy you some ear plugs and you can sit with Justin's girlfriend or Hazel. As long as you're there."

You had planned on going home for Thanksgiving, but you would be coming back on Friday so it would be possible to attend the game on Saturday. Although, finals were coming up soon and you were planning on using the weekend to study. As you were about to explain why you couldn't, Joe kissed your hand.

"Please?" he pleaded once again.

How could you resist that?

"Okay, sure. I'll come to your game."

Joe's face lit up and he leaned in for a kiss. It started off gentle but quickly grew more intense. Joe's hands roamed over your body as he pushed your sweatshirt up slightly and played with the waistband of your shorts, seeking permission to go further. A shiver ran through you as his fingertips grazed your stomach. You broke away from the kiss and nodded, feeling dizzy.

Joe wasted no time pulling down your shorts and underwear in one swift motion. You removed your sweatshirt, revealing your breasts. Joe took a moment to stare at you before you started to feel self-conscious and attempted to cover yourself up. But Joe stopped you.

"I just can't get over how beautiful you are," he murmured, his eyes taking in every part of your body. Your blush deepened. Joe pressed his lips to yours again, and you eagerly pulled him closer as you laid back down. His hand traveled down your body until it found your clit, making slow, lazy circles.

"You're going to watch me win on Saturday, right?" Joe whispered into your ear as he peppered kisses along your jawline.

You were about to answer when he suddenly picked up the pace.

"Oh God...yes," you managed to say between moans, struggling to keep focused on anything but the building sensation in your lower abdomen. You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging at it slightly.

"Are you proud of me when you watch me play?" Joe asked, watching as you squirmed under his touch. He loved the effect he was having on your body.

You nodded, unable to form words as the pleasure consumed you. Joe slowed down, causing a frustrated groan to escape from your lips. You looked at him and he met your gaze as he pulled his fingers to his mouth and sucked on them before pushing them inside you. His thumb returned to your clit, and he used his other hand to gently turn your face to look at him.

"Say it, baby. Tell me how proud you are," Joe commanded, picking up the pace again and relentlessly massaging your clit. Your back arched as waves of pleasure washed over you.

"I'm so proud of you, Joe. You're amazing," you cried out. Joe smirked, satisfied with your response.

He left wet kisses down your neck, making his way towards your chest. He focused his attention on a spot above your breast while using his other hand to play with your nipple. You felt like you were going to explode from all the pleasure.

"I need you," you whimpered.

Joe stopped and quickly took off his shirt and pants. Even though he was now only in his underwear and socks, you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by how beautiful he looked. You kneeled on the bed in front of him, running your hands over his chest and arms before kissing his jaw and trailing down his neck. You hooked your fingers onto the waistband of his underwear, but Joe stopped you.

"Do you really want this?" he asked, searching your eyes for an answer.

"I do," you replied with a smile.

You had slept with one person before, a long-term high school boyfriend. Since then, you hadn't found anyone else who you were interested in sleeping with.

You were about to continue taking off Joe's underwear when his phone started ringing on the nightstand beside the bed.

"Ignore it," you said.

As you went to kiss Joe, he groaned and pulled you close, his hands cupping your face. You felt his lips crush against yours with urgency, but he suddenly broke away to check his phone. A girl's name flashed on the screen before he shut it off and placed it back on the counter. Your heart started racing as you tried not to pry or show any signs of jealousy. Was this just a friend? Or could it be someone he was seeing as well? You two hadn't talked about the state of your relationship. If there was even a relationship. The uncertainty made you feel uneasy and unsure about where you stood with Joe.

You tried to push those thoughts aside as Joe kissed you again, but this time you couldn't kiss back with the same enthusiasm. He noticed your withdrawal and asked if everything was okay, if you had changed your mind. With a heavy sigh, you laid back down and covered yourself with the blanket.

"Talk to me," Joe pleaded, joining you on the bed.

Your mind was racing with questions, but you couldn't find the right words to ask him. Finally, you ask, "What are we doing?"

"I thought we were about to have sex," Joe responded.

You let out a breathy laugh, "No, Joe. I mean what are we? Where do we stand? Are we seeing other people?"

Joe didn't answer immediately, taking some time to collect his thoughts before finally answering.

"Is this because Jen called?" he asked, saying her name made your heart twist.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close as he traced shapes on your hip with his fingers. "I'm not seeing her or anything. She lives in Ohio and we had some classes together when I was going to school there. She's a good friend, but I have no intention of being in a relationship with her."

You nodded, trying to process all of this new information.

"I'm not sure what we are," Joe continued, "but I have fun with you and I want to be around you as much as possible. I know this isn't the way I wanted to ask you to be my girlfriend, so I won't, but..."

Before he could finish his sentence, his phone rang again.

"Fuck," he muttered and checked his phone seeing a call from Ja'Marr.

After a brief conversation, Joe sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I completely forgot, we have a team dinner tonight," he admitted.

You nodded understandingly, still unsure of what to say because you wanted Joe to finish his previous thought.

He got up to get dressed, apologizing for having to leave. "I really want to have finish this conversation later and I want you to be there on Saturday. And just so you know, you're the only one I want."

Your heart swelled at his words and you placed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. You ran your fingers through his hair and caressed his cheek, causing him to close his eyes and let out a content sigh.

"I only want you too," you confessed.

Joe took your hand and brought it up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on your palm. "I wish I could stay with you," he shared sadly.

"You should go," you said, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice, "don't want to be any later than you already are."

"If the reason I'm late has anything to do with you, it's worth it."

You roll your eyes, secretly enjoying the cute line he threw at you. Joe reached for the blanket and tried to pull it down, sneaking one more look before he left. You slapped his hand and pointed towards the door.

"Just one more look," Joe begged.

"Go!" You said, laughing. Joe walked towards the door and turned to see you one more time.

"You'll call me when you get home," Joe asked, leaning against the door.

"Yeah I'll call you," You reassured him. You blew him a kiss before he shut the door.

After Joe left for his team dinner, all you could think about was how much you cared for him and hoped that whatever this was between the two of you would work out in the end.

The TV was paused, with the "Are you still watching?" question staring at you.

You plopped your head back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. You heard your phone vibrate and you reached over to pick it up.

Joe: I'll be thinking of you.

You smile to yourself and set your phone back down. You pressed "Continue Watching" on the screen and relaxed while Gilmore Girls played.

previous | next

[dollfaceksj]

schemin’ | myg (m) 10

⇝ pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

⇝ summary: Your dream comes true when world renowned music producer and CEO of D-Town Records, Agust D, discovers you in the underground rap scene and wants to sign you to his label. It all goes well for a few months and you can’t believe you’re actually living your dream. However, things start to shift when Agust D offers to do something for you and you can’t stop thinking about it for weeks to come. Your boyfriend doesn’t like it one bit.

⇝ genre: angst ; smut ; slowburn

⇝ category: series

⇝ chapter warnings: explicit sexual content, flashback, yoongi pov, unprotected sex(be responsible), protected sex, spanking; hairpulling, timeskip, seokjinnie cameo again cus i miss him, soft yoongi and soft reader, rough fucking, oral sex (f. rec), mentions of daniel, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, pussy slap, faceriding, minors dni

wordcount: 8.2k

a/n: ahhh we’ve made it to the finale… i can’t believe we’ve made it. thank u so much for this journey! i can’t believe we’ve built a community for this and i love every single on you. i hope you stick around for my upcoming fics too <3 thank u!!

— m.list & concept video

<- previous

chapter 10: schemer

A cry ripped through her throat as his big hand came down to her asscheek in a rough slap, the skin of her ass recoiling from the impact.

“I’m gonna need you to be quiet, baby.” His low voice rang in her ears like a blaring alarm from right behind her but she simply did not have the energy to look back at him, the wooden surface against her cheek was a constant reminder that she was playing a dangerous game.

Her pearly whites sank into her bottom lip, keeping it trapped and using it as a sound barrier for her pathetic moans and gasps.

He hardly wasted any time as he pushed his shaft right into her wet pussy, the ridges and veins of his dick grinding against her slick walls as he fully bottomed out. He let out a low groan at how tightly she wrapped around him, his hands traveled up her thighs to hold her hips firmly as he slowly started thrusting into her, aware of the time they didn’t have.

Her own hand reached up, fingers draping over her swollen lips to keep herself as quiet as possible as his pounding got rougher, the head of his dick just barely grazing her cervix with each thrust.

“Yoongi!” she cried into her hand, her other arm stretched out behind her to press it flat into his abdomen in an attempt to get him to slow down.

He simply paid no attention to her pleas of slowing down, if anything, his hips slammed into her ass even harder. “I told you to be quiet.”

Her manicured nails dug into the skin of her cheeks in hopes that it silenced her pathetic sobs. She put more pressure on her other hand – that’s pressing against his lower stomach – but that time, he slapped her hand away and the pace of his hips never faltered, his rock hard dick still intruding in her pussy. “Now you want to act like you didn’t tease me all throughout today’s meeting?”

“I didn’t even say anything!” She tried to defend herself, voice muffled by her hand as she recalled the events of 20 minutes ago. He still heard it loud and clear, though.

She wasn’t even supposed to be in that meeting but she slithered her way in and he paid the price of letting her stay. He should’ve known better.

“You didn’t have to say a single word, that look in your eyes and rubbing up against my legs with your foot in the middle of an important meeting is enough to piss me off and you know that.” He mercilessly continued to pound her hip bones into the edge of his desk, one of his hands reaching for her throat from the back and lifting her head off the surface.

He elegantly grabbed a fistful of her long hair and tugged her toward him, which made her arch her back and throw her head back in the process. He loved seeing her like that.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” she repeated, but her pleas were too loud for Yoongi’s liking. He quickly brought his other hand up, draping it over her own hand on top of her mouth to keep her quiet.

He leaned forwards a bit, soft lips grazing the shell of her ear. His heavy breaths directly hitting her ear made a jolt of electricity travel up her spine and turned her legs into jelly.

“And now you’ve made me bend you over my $20.000 desk like a slut. Tsk,” he grumbled in her ear, his dick rubbing up and down her walls so good that it had tears rolling down the sides of her face.

She shifted her eyes to their corners, wanting a glimpse of what he looked like right now.

The oxygen in her lungs got squeezed out the moment she realized he was already staring back into her eyes, his dark gaze so intense that it made her knees buckle like two sticks of spaghetti snapping under the slightest bit of pressure.

He reached around her hip and started rubbing at her clit in that pattern he knows she likes. He knows her well. Really well.

Because it didn’t take long for her stomach to start twisting from the inside out, walls clenching around his shaft to let him know she was mere moments away from her climax.

“Cum on my dick, babe,” he whispered in her ear, fingers and hips still synchronized in the way they pleased her.

“Fuck,” she whimpered as the knot finally snapped, her orgasm hitting her like a train.

Her legs shook, struggling to hold her weight but Yoongi wasn’t going to let her get away that easily. He tightly held onto her hips, continuing to roughly pound his hips into her ass to chase his own high.

She was still sprawled out on the desk, legs shaking and face pressed into the wooden surface. It only took Yoongi a few more thrusts until he was emptying out his balls inside of the condom, groaning silently when his orgasm showers his body in pure and utter bliss.

After a few more lazy thrusts, he pulled out and took a minute to catch his breath before he snapped the condom off and discarded it. He returned to her fucked out frame on top of his desk and cleaned her up with the wet tissues he keeps in his office – because that wasn’t the first or last time this happened.

She sighed in content as he helped her up, brushing some of her bangs out of her face. She simply winked at him as she pulled down her skirt, smoothing out the creases.

“Dinner?” she asked as chirpy as ever, absentmindedly trying to put his stuff back on his expensive desk.

Yoongi, however, stayed quiet for a few moments. Thinking. Stroked his chin. Considered it. “I want to but I can’t.”

She pouted, brushing her hair off her shoulder to appear casual about it. “Hm, too bad. Plans already?”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Namjoon told me I might want to check out these rookie battle rappers in some shabby, rundown hotel. They’re having another show tonight and I want to go.”

She raised her eyebrows and rubbed his shoulder, gently squeezing and massaging it. “Then, I think you should go. Who knows, maybe your new pop star is amongst them,” she said as she leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Tell you what,” she paused, “When you finally sign a contract with someone new, dinner will be on me.”

His onyx eyes shifted to her brown eyes, bright and big as they twinkled at him like they used to.

He chuckled, “Okay, deal.”

She planted one last peck on his lips before spinning on her heels and heading out. “See you soon, Yoongi.”

He watched as she strutted out of his studio with a sway to her hips, his head tilted to the side and his eyes lingering on her ass.

“See you, Sarang.”

•••

His eyes trailed your glistening skin as you stood face to face with your opponent, yellow spotlights hitting your face and rhymes leaving your mouth continuously.

You seemed like you were made to be there, made to have the public eye glued to you, made to be seen and heard. You were on fire, bar after bar, the entire room yelling and roaring every time a punch line left your lips.

Instantly, Yoongi knew he had to have you. You were made to be great and he made great things. He wanted you – and he was going to get you.

He returned weekly, hoping and praying to see you in action. You were vicious, claws and fangs out for blood. He could tell how passionate you were just by a single glimpse. The fire in your eyes, the venom in your voice, the determination in your body language.

You were the one.

He had to have you.

As you hopped off the stage, Yoongi’s security went and talked the security into letting him see you for a moment. As soon as they heard the name ‘Agust D’, there wasn’t an ounce of hesitation, not even for a moment.

And that’s how Yoongi walked into the backroom you were in, talked you into coming to his record label and a week later you were sitting in his studio, answering his questions.

He hates having to think this way but as a businessman, he can’t help it.

Aside from your incredible talent and skills, Yoongi couldn’t look besides the fact that you were also just a very attractive woman. Young, attractive woman + insane talent = money and success.

Yoongi couldn’t wait to sign you. He wanted to help you make your dream come true but he could also taste the money you were going to bring on the tip of his tongue. And he surely was excited.

However, the single conversation he had with you in his studio made him reconsider.

The things you said, the way you said them, the way they stuck with him.

Sure, a lot of people have said that they want to be like him. But your specific usage of the words ‘bend to my will’ intrigued him.

What were you thinking? You had just been swooped off the floor of a dirty backroom and you wanted to be on his level just so anything and everything would bend to your will?

He was fascinated yet conflicted by the fire in your eyes and the determination in your voice.

But then again, that was exactly what he liked about you.

His professionalism made him doubt you because of your lack of fear of consequences but his soul was intrigued by it. However, he also had a feeling that you were special, someone that could not be contained or silenced by any contract or industry standard.

He was going to love testing that theory.

He didn’t expect to have you signed that day, let alone 10 minutes into your first official rendezvous.

He quickly realized he just signed a deal with a fire starter, a daredevil. He couldn’t help but be wary yet intrigued by all the trouble you were going to bring. He was looking forward to taking on the challenge of trying to control someone this reckless.

He couldn’t help but be allured by you.

•••

He walked in and spotted Sarang right away, strutting over to her. “Sorry I’m late, traffic is crazy.” He quickly sat down across from her, watching her swirl the water in her glass after sipping from it.

“Don’t worry, I haven’t been here for very long myself.” She placed her glass back down near her utensils. “So, are you late because it took your new star a lot of convincing to sign to you?”

Yoongi glanced down at her empty plate, his eyes lingering for a moment as your face popped up in his mind. “No, actually,” he started, “she needed absolutely no convincing. She… signed the contract 5 minutes into our conversation without even reading through it.”

She blinked at him, fingers tracing her silver utensils and her leg slowly crossing over her other underneath the table. She clearly wanted to express her opinion about that but for some reason decided not to. “Well, how do you feel about her? Do you think she’s your next big thing?”

His eyes trailed up to hers after a while, thinking about the situation and his afternoon. “Yeah,” he said, no hesitation present. “Yeah, I do. I haven’t seen anyone with potential like her in years. She might become one of my favorites.”

She slowly nodded her head as he talked, taking the information in. “How is she as a person? You know the public eye pays a lot of attention to these artists’ behaviors and actions, especially if they’re women.”

She brought her glass back up to her matte lips, taking another sip whilst keeping eye contact with him over the rim of her glass.

His eyes stayed glued to hers as if he could see your face and personality in her eyes. He brought his shoulders up in nonchalance and dropped them right after. “She seems pretty hard to deal with.”

“Hm,” she hummed as she leaned forwards on her elbows. “What makes you say that?”

“She’s just,” he mumbled, trailing off as he tried to put it into words. “I don’t like her that much. She’s daring. Unpredictable. Reckless.” He reached for his own glass, taking a big sip of water – which he needed after that afternoon with you. He didn’t like how you caught him off guard multiple times and even almost had him speechless with an excruciatingly dry throat.

Her eyebrows shot up, creating small wrinkles on her forehead that were hidden by her bangs. “Hm.”

He shook his head as the events from earlier that day dawned on him slowly. “I mean, who just signs a contract without reading it or asking for clarifications?”

Yoongi went on a ramble, talking about what he disliked about you and what he’s worried about.

Sarang simply listened. Didn’t interrupt him. Let him talk. Silently nodded her head.

“Hm,” she hummed again after his ramble came to an end, a small smirk on her lips. “She’s going to grow on you.”

He nearly snorted and coughed up all the water he drank. Did she not listen to a single word he just said? He disliked everything about you aside from what was going to bring him money. “What?”

Her eyes trailed his face, committing his body language to memory. “Nothing, just an observation. I think you’re going to grow really fond of her.”

At that, his brows pinched together in an annoyed frown. “What makes you say that?”

She scanned the room before glancing back at him and nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders. “I know you well.”

Yoongi had no rebuttal for that and they moved onto the next topic.

•••

Months had passed and you were definitely getting worked to the bone. It wasn’t easy but you also didn’t want anything that came easily. Especially this dream that Yoongi had served to you on a silver platter. Of course you were going to have to wash and polish that damn platter every single day but the dish that was served on it made your mouth water.

Contrary to your own belief that he absolutely hated your personality (he did) and just kept you around because you were skilled, you’d be surprised that wasn’t actually the truth.

That was half true.

The CEO in him absolutely fucking hated you as a person. You were an impulsive, annoying, unpredictable, reckless brat. He hated not knowing what to expect, he hated not being in control.

But his soul… he couldn’t help but find you alluring.

In a direct contradiction to the CEO in him, him as a person loved not knowing what to expect from you. You always knew how to catch him off guard with your antics, with your words, even with your music.

You quickly became one of his favorites but he made sure not to show that.

In the months that you worked for him, he knew he wasn’t the easiest on you. Maybe he was the hardest on you of all, always critiquing you. He loved your music but he needed you to know the industry wasn’t going to be any easier on you than he was.

Over the months, he grew fond of you but that it’s not like he went any easier on you. That was it.

Well, was it, though?

Because when he stepped forwards and said he would film the music video with you, he’d shocked himself. What the fuck was he thinking? He could have an actor in the building within 10 minutes with a snap of his damn fingers!

He didn’t like it. He was losing control of himself, something he worked so hard to have over you, the most impulsive brat on earth.

And what he hated even more was how much he enjoyed being in that damn music video with you. Shooting with you, having that title of boss and employee stripped away and for once, it didn’t feel like a bad thing to want to be close to you.

All that guilt washed away that day.

After that, he promised himself to take it easy. To distance himself from you because you were slowly starting to slither your way into the cracks of his soul that he allowed to exist when he offered to be in your video.

That didn’t last long when the company got together to watch the video. Couldn’t help himself. Asked if there was anything you wanted to talk about.

He wanted you to be the first one to give in so bad so he could stop feeling guilty. So he could stop feeling bad about thinking of his employee this way.

Then he confronted you. Then he caught you watching the scenes, several times.

He knew you were right there with him, he knew you wanted it as much as he did.

But he refused to take that first step. He didn’t want you to feel obligated or like he was using his authority to make you consent.

But when you kept watching those scenes, he had enough. Done.

He kept pressing you because he had been waiting since the start for a moment to watch you break. If he could accomplish that by doing something this villainous, then so be it.

He wanted to see you become a squirming kitten – under his gaze, at his command, in his presence – compared to the raging tiger you usually were.

He loved the real power he had over you for the first time. He finally had control over the daredevil he signed all those months ago. Even if it wasn’t in the way he initially intended.

And if he could get you to break by stealing your USB, then so be it.

•••

present

Rolling over, he’s faced with your bare back and the moon shining down on you, casting shadows on your body in all the right places. He scoots closer to you, finger tracing your spine and he watches as you slightly shiver underneath his touch.

It’s been a few months since you’ve started sleeping with Yoongi regularly, sneaking around and being secretive. You’ve debuted with your album, you’re in the public eye, you’re doing interviews.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks quietly, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

You glance at him over your shoulder and jut out your bottom lip, slightly shrugging. “I feel bad that I don’t feel bad.”

He blinks at you a few times and then realizes what you’re talking about. “Fuck that guy, seriously, Y/N.”

You sigh, not liking the conflicting feeling in your chest as you roll onto your back. “I’m not a slut, you know. I just–”

“Hey,” he snaps, tapping your shoulder. “I don’t think you are. When I say these things to you or call you names, it’s purely for our enjoyment. You shouldn’t listen to what that bastard says either.”

It’s true, Yoongi would never think that of you and he would never want you to view yourself like that. You are in a shit relationship and Yoongi’s giving you a safespace, that’s all it is. So what if you like being called a slut by him? So what if he thinks it’s hot as fuck when you desperately need his dick inside of you?

“I know, I know, it’s just,” you sigh, rubbing your forehead as you stare at the ceiling. “I don’t know. I just feel a bit conflicted.”

“That’s because you’re human.” He falls back onto the mattress and stares at the ceiling too, both your bodies covered by his thin white sheets.

You turn your head to look at him. “What do you think about all this?”

He continues to stare at the ceiling, though, avoiding your gaze. “I think you should just forget about all of that and be in this moment with me.”

It’s silent for a few moments before he turns his head and glances down at you, to see you still staring at him.

You share an intense staredown and if he wasn’t a little bitch, he’d admit just your eyes staring into his has his heart beating in his throat.

“Be in this moment with you? You just fucked me in your kingsize bed, give me a break,” you laugh as you sit up, allowing the sheets to drop down and expose your bare skin.

He chuckles in response and traces your spine with his finger, drawing circles on your back and ribs. “If you’re down for round two, I am too.”

“You’re crazy,” you mumble and shake your head but clearly seem to be considering it.

He notices it right away and sits up, leaning into you and pressing soft kisses to the side of your face and down your neck, prepping your collarbones in kisses and licks.

“Yoongi–”

The sound of your phone ringing snaps you right out of the moment. You glance over at your phone on his nightstand.

[9:53PM]

Daniel

Incoming call

“Fuck,” you whisper as you reach for your phone. You haven’t seen him or heard from him since breakfast.

“Hey,” you say as you accept the call. Yoongi simply continues to kiss down your neck, clearly not giving a fuck that you’re on the phone with your boyfriend.

“Hey, where are you?”

“Oh, I, uh–”

Your phone gets snatched out of your hand and you’re too late to retrieve it when Yoongi puts the phone to his ear. “Hey, Daniel, my man. We’re having a late night dinner with the entire company. I promise, we’ll have her home by a reasonable time.”

Yoongi pushes you back by your shoulders when you try to snatch the phone back until you’re fully lying down, his free hand coming up to fondle your breast.

“Huh? Are you– wait, Agust D? Oh! Sorry, man. No, take your time, really. I was just wondering where she was. My bad, don’t have too much fun without me.”

He licks around your hardened nipples and simply hums in response, his free hand now traveling down your body to cup your sex, making you quietly gasp.

“Don’t worry, mate, we’re thinking about you,” Yoongi says as he glances up at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he winks, mouth still lathering your breast in kisses and saliva.

“Alright, thanks, man. See you.”

Yoongi doesn’t even say bye back as he hangs up and throws your phone aside, tugging the sheets further down your body to expose more of you to him.

“Yoongi,” you whisper-whine but show no efforts or intentions of stopping him.

He simply continues to tease your nipples with his mouth, your lip almost bursting from the pressure you’re putting on it with your teeth.

“So what if you’re a slut?” he asks as he glances up at you. “You’re a slut only for me, aren’t you?”

He’s saying it with a certain caution in his tone, like he’s testing the waters to make sure you’re okay with it.

“Yeah,” you reply breathily, watching him press soft kisses to your chest and down the valley of your breasts. His shoulders visibly drop in relief and then he rolls off of you, hands tracing and gripping your thighs until you’re automatically spreading your legs for him.

He softly exhales through his nose, something you can only describe to be a chuckle as your eyes intently watch him tease your folds with the tips of his fingers.

“Yoongi,” you whine.

“I already fucked you today. Why are you still this needy?” He hums after asking you a question he clearly knows the answer to, eyeing your sex before glancing up at you.

Unlike what he expected you to do, you simply say, “Because I like being with you.”

He blinks at you in confusion for a few moments before sitting up and gently closing your legs. “You know we don’t have to have sex to just enjoy each other’s company, right?”

Guilt bubbles up the back of his throat. Is that really the vibe he’s been giving you?

“Oh, I know.” You get comfortable against his pillows. “But you also make me really horny. I don’t know what it is but I just constantly want you inside of me.”

Well.

That’s enough for blood to instantly rush to Yoongi’s dick, hardening by the second as he watches your innocent face with that mischievous glint in your eyes.

His eyes drop down to your lips, so kissable and so pouty that it drives him insane. All he wants to do all day is kiss you, listen to you speak, maybe even fuck your face.

He tries to hide his boner but ultimately fails when your eyes drop to his groin and take notice. “Does that make you hard?”

He merely grunts in annoyance, spreading your legs again and pulling your body down to him.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, using his thumb to gently tease your clit. “I also really like being with you.”

That makes the corners of your mouth curl up, eyes hooded and screaming for attention. “Hm, I bet you do.”

He has to keep his eye from twitching. Just as he thought you were going to be obedient and easy to deal with for once, you prove him wrong.

And he can’t help but fucking love it.

“You keep up that attitude and I’m not giving you anythi–”

“You say that but your dick is practically begging for attention, look at it.” You nod toward his erection. “You can’t really hold it over my head if you’re also dying to put it in.”

You are so fucking insufferable.

All Yoongi does is slowly nod his head, clearly not enjoying the way you’re basically mocking him but he lets you run your mouth.

“I wonder if you talk this way to him,” he muses as he pushes your thighs back toward your torso, earning a gasp from you.

“What?”

“Is it because you know I won’t let you get off easy?” he starts, rubbing shapes onto your inner thighs.

“I just–”

“I was thinking out loud, be quiet.” He gets onto his knees in front of you, between your legs. Your eyes drop down to his erection, hard and screaming for attention.

“Make me,” you fire back.

Slap.

His hand comes down on your poor sex, making your legs jolt. “Ow! That hurt, Yoongi!”

“Watch your mouth.”

He shakes his head, his hand dropping down to spread your wetness all over your sex. You’re still wet from the last time he fucked you so you literally don’t need any prep but you know he’s not doing it to prep you, he’s doing it to tease you.

“But I want you to put me in my place,” you sigh quietly, legs gently jerking whenever his fingers inch closer to your pussy.

He simply laughs. “I know you do.” He runs his fingers up your slit, collecting your arousal and shaking his head in mock disappointment. “I’ve known that for a long time, you know.”

You huff quietly, crossing your arms over your chest like a child that wanted a blue cup to drink out of instead of a green one.

“You don’t know me,” you scoff, trying to act like his touch doesn’t have the effect on you that it does but his eyes take notice of the clench in your thighs and the goosebumps on your skin.

“That so?” he muses, eyes roaming your body. “You think I don’t know you? What you want?”

“Hm.”

“You think I don’t know you’re constantly provoking me because you just want me to give into you? Like you’re the person that finally got me to break out of character?” he says as he moves to the side of your body, lips closing in on your neck and fingers teasing your sex as he coats your collarbones in kisses.

You merely grunt in response.

“That you’re one of the only ones that got to see Yoongi instead of Agust D?”

You roll your head back, making him kiss up your throat and press kisses to your jaw. “It makes you feel special, doesn’t it?”

You tense under him and he notices instantly but he doesn’t say anything else and neither do you. At least not for a few moments.

“So what if it does? Don’t you feel special that I’m in your bed right now instead of my boyfriend’s? Aren’t you glad to know?”

This makes Yoongi pull away from your neck to glance at you. There’s a glint of something in your eyes that Yoongi can’t quite put his finger on but that’s not what made him pull away.

It’s because Yoongi thought of something.

“What?” you ask, having taken notice of Yoongi’s switch in demeanor.

He quickly shakes his head and says, “Nothing, it’s nothing. Just relax for me.”

You simply stare at him in confusion before relaxing again and keeping your legs spread while he pushes his middle and ring finger into you. You quietly whimper as he starts massaging your walls, legs jolting whenever he curls his fingers to assault your g-spot.

“You’re so needy,” he mumbles, leaning in to press his lips against yours whilst he pumps his fingers into you at a slow, insanity-inducing pace.

“Do you like it when I’m needy for you?” you innocently mewl, knowing damn well it’s you that would like the thought of that.

“Hm,” he pauses, “I do, actually.”

There’s more where that came from as he keeps whispering more of these things to you, ending his night by fucking you into his mattress for a second time that day.

•••

“Give me my phone!” you whine as Seokjin holds it further out of your reach.

“No, you’re going to tell me everything,” he declares, sliding your phone into his pocket as he waves a waiter over to come take your order.

You groan and childishly slouch in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest. “Tell you what?”

He simply shrugs his shoulders. “You and your boss. And don’t tell me nothing’s going on because I know what you look and act like when you’ve been getting fucked right.”

You press your lips together, trying to ignore the tingle in your stomach.

Right, Seokjin used to fuck you good and he’s still really attractive but so what? You broke it off years ago, there’s no reason for his words to have that much of an impact on you.

You stomp on his foot underneath the table. “Don’t talk like that.”

He screeches in pain and then laughs, waving his hand at you in dismissal. “So? Are you gonna tell me or what?”

You snap, “What is there to tell? We’ve been fucking for a few months now. Happy?”

His lips curl up into a smirk. “I knew it.”

You roll your eyes and shut your mouth once the waiter arrives, introducing himself and silently taking your order.

“How’d you break up with Daniel?” Seokjin asks once the waiter leaves, taking a sip of his glass of water.

Your throat dries up in an instant, urging you to take a sip from your own water. “Uh,” you mumble, eyes glued to the utensils in front of you.

Your eyes shift up to his and you watch in real time as the realization sets. “You haven’t, have you?” he asks quietly, a slight tilt to his head and his brows slightly pinched together.

You sigh. “It just… kind of happened and I just kept delaying it. I’m gross, I know.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean. I’m talking about the fact that you’re in the public eye now. You need to be careful.”

Oh.

He’s right.

This early on in your career and having a cheating scandal would obliterate any dream you have left. You would never be able to bounce back, especially when the other man is someone with a reputation and fanbase like Agust D.

“Yeah… You’re right. I know. I’ll have that talk with him one of these days.”

You enjoy your meal with Seokjin and by the time you’ve made it to dessert, you’ve realized he still has your phone.

Once you have it back in your possession, you excuse yourself and decide to call Yoongi once you walk onto the parking lot.

“Hey,” you say once he picks up.

“Hey. Everything okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. It’s just that, uh,” you sigh, trying to think of a way to say this. “My friend has brought something to my attention.”

“Hm. Which is?”

“I have a reputation to uphold now, now that I’m in the public eye, Yoongi.”

“Slow down,” he starts, sounding slightly panicked. “Meaning what?”

“Meaning I need to break up with him, if word got out about a cheating scandal, my career would be over–”

“Stop, stop, stop.” He’s silent for a few moments. “Meet me at my place in an hour, okay?”

You sigh and rub your hairline, looking up at the night sky in distress. “Okay.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

With that, you end the conversation and stand there for a moment longer before heading back inside and finishing your meal with Seokjin. He never once judges you or brings it up again.

Well, he’s the one that kind of liked the idea of you and Yoongi but still. That doesn’t mean he should approve.

•••

You make your way to Yoongi’s home, typing the password into the keypad and strutting down the stone path leading to his front door.

Before you even knock, the door swings open, revealing Yoongi in a bathrobe with damp hair and a toothbrush in his mouth.

Déjà vu.

He steps aside right away, wordlessly inviting you in. You do so and simply follow him all the way to his room, a path you’ve quickly memorized.

He walks into his bathroom and rinses his mouth as you drop your purse onto his bed and follow him into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe and looking at him through the mirror.

You start, “So?”

He dries his mouth and turns to look at you. “So.”

You blink at him in confusion. “What do you think? Should I just bite the bullet and break it off tonight?”

To your surprise, he slowly turns around and looks at you whilst leaning against his sink. “No.”

Huh?

What is he on about?

Your brows pinch together. “What do you mean ‘no’? You literally pushed me to break up with him.”

He slowly nods his head as he rubs his chin, his robe slowly coming undone and showing you part of his chest. Fuck.

Concentrate.

“I did but,” he pauses and runs a hand through his damp hair before turning around to face the mirror again and applying some moisturizer to his face. “I think you shouldn’t.”

“Yoongi, my career–”

“Your career will be fine. That’d only be real bad if it did get out, which it won’t.” He blends the cream into his skin.

You think about his words for a moment. “I don’t understand why we’d have to risk it, though.”

“Because,” he says as he turns around. “Having him in the picture will keep those noisy people out of our business.”

Huh?

Your brows pinch together once his words reach your ears. “Meaning what?”

He exhales and takes a moment before walking up to you. “Meaning, if you’re still dating, people will focus on your relationship. The public eye loves celebrity romance, don’t ask why because I wish I knew.”

He places his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. “Their eyes being focused on you and him would mean no one would have the time to nitpick whatever we got going on. It’s a lot easier for them to link you to your boss when you’re a beautiful, young woman that also happens to be single.”

Oh.

You hadn’t thought of it like that.

Huh.

Okay then.

So, long story short; just keep schemin’.

You figure that’s what he thought of when he suddenly paused last night, the time you were in the middle of getting freaky.

You nod slowly, your eyes trailing his jawline and down the column of his throat.

What a son of a bitch.

He doesn’t have the time to react when you suddenly grab him by the collar of his white bathrobe and push him towards his bed, watching as he falls against his soft mattress.

He leans back on his elbows and looks up at you with a frown on his brows but he doesn’t say anything else.

You quickly rid yourself of your jacket, tossing it somewhere across the floor and then make work of ditching your shirt and pants.

His frown turns into an amused expression, leaning further back as he watches you strip in front of him.

You quip, “Memories?”

“Of my strip club days? Kinda.” He continues to smirk, tongue peeking out at the corner of his mouth.

Bastard.

You kick his foot and he simply laughs, still watching you undress for him.

“Get rid of that,” you mumble as you point at his robe, stepping out of your pants in the meantime and kicking them across the floor.

He simply chuckles as he undoes his robe and shows you his naked figure, dick instantly slapping his stomach.

Damn.

“Fuck,” you whisper as you watch him grab his dick, pumping himself as he watches you intently. You quickly ditch your bra and panties before walking up to him, reaching for his dick.

But he shakes his head and slaps your hand away. “Come sit on my face.”

Holy shit.

“Uh,” you murmur, scratching the back of your neck. “I’m not sure you–”

“Y/N, babe, shut the fuck up and come sit that ass on my face.”

Jerk.

You like it when he’s mean, though.

You huff, childishly crossing your arms over your chest as you watch him get comfortable on his bed, his head near the headboard. He says, “I’m not gonna wait all fucking day. Get on.”

The only thing you can do is scowl but you find yourself crawling onto his bed without another protest, slowly climbing onto his face. You throw your leg over his face, positioning your pussy right on top of his mouth.

His dark eyes catch the nervous lip chewing but he simply slaps your ass. “Sit.”

You grunt in response and slowly lower your body onto his face, a soft whimper leaving your lips when his tongue wastes no time licking a stripe up your wet pussy.

His hand comes down to your ass in another rough slap. “Ride my face.”

A pathetic moan rips through your throat as you begin to grind into his face, allowing yourself to feel every single inch of his tongue devouring you. His hands tightly grab your asscheeks, helping you grind at a pace you both like until you’re a moaning mess on top of him.

You let out a soft groan when the tip of his finger gently teases the rim of your asshole but he never pushes it inside. You assume he’s waiting for verbal permission, something you’ve not given him yet.

“Fuck, your mouth feels good.” You throw your head back as you cup your breasts, pinching at your nipples as more slick oozes out of you and onto his mouth.

“Oh, fuck. I’m gonna cum soon,” you moan as you continue to grind your clit into his nose, the stimulation sending you right out of Earth’s atmosphere. Your grip on the headboard in front of you is tight, almost making your knuckles hurt as you use it to support some of your weight from the momentum of your grinding.

“Cum on my face,” he orders, massaging your asscheeks as he continues to fuck his tongue in and out of you.

“Fuck, fuck,” you cry out as your stomach twists and your thighs clench, a loud sob leaving your lips as your orgasm hits you like a truck.

You can barely move which makes Yoongi jump in and move his lips up to wrap around your clit, sucking on it to stimulate you through your orgasm.

Fuck. He’s way too fucking good at using his tongue. Whether that’s during sex or in a conversation.

He continues to lick all over your sex, licking up all you have to offer until you whimper from the overstimulation.

You try to catch your breath, leaning your head against the headboard. By doing that, you instantly make eye contact with Yoongi and fuck – does he look good.

His long black locks are sprawled out around his head, eyes hooded and his face from the nose down is just drenched in your pussy slick.

“You look really good.” The words leave you in a giggle and he just slaps your ass again which makes you hop off. You fall onto the mattress beside him, staring up at the ceiling and trying to come down from that crazy high.

He wipes his chin with the back of his hand, not caring much before he tugs you toward him. “Let me fuck you.”

“Who’s the needy one now?” you hum in satisfaction, eyes closed as he traces your waist with the tip of his finger.

“Me. I need to fuck you real bad right now.” He sits up but you’re quicker than him.

You push him back toward his mattress and slowly climb onto him. “I’m riding you,” you state as you position yourself on top of him, lining his dick up at your pulsating pussy. You refuse to let him be in control all the time.

The smirk on his lips makes you roll your eyes but you grin in victory when you slide down onto his shaft without a warning and watch his face twist in pleasure.

You yelp as you sink all the way down, teeth harshly biting down on your bottom lip as you blink your tears away. The stretch in your walls burns so good, making you dizzy, making you needy, making you crazy.

“Giving up already?” he teases, another sting spreading through your asscheek where he just smacked you.

“Fuck you,” you moan as you place your hands directly on his chest and start bouncing up and down, eyes tightly shut as you try not to scream.

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my dick, princess. Just like a brat should.” He grips your hips tightly, guiding you up and down his shaft, his hips meeting yours halfway as he fucks you back.

“Yoongi,” you cry, losing all that energy and brattiness as you fall forwards onto his chest, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

Despite not having said a word aside from just his name, he hears your plead loud and clear and begins to fuck upwards into you, pinning your arms into your lower back.

“When you called me and started about your career and reputation, I thought you were going to tell me we should stop this,” he says in between thrusts and heavy breaths, continuing to pound you. “So, I have to make sure you never even think about ending this.”

He tightly grips your wrists as he fucks you, listening to your cries and moans as he chases his own orgasm.

“That why you sounded so panicked?” you tease but he doesn’t let you emerge the victor as he harshly fucks into to the point you can’t even form a coherent thought.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck,” you sob, teeth biting down on the skin that connects his neck to his shoulder, biting and sucking all you can.

“You gonna mark me, huh?” he grunts, his hips never faltering in speed.

“Yes,” you pause as you try to steady your breath. “When’s the last time you fucked Sarang?”

This makes his thrusts come to a halt. He pauses for so long that it makes you lift your head and search his eyes but he’s simply staring at you.

“Wh–”

You can barely finish your sentence when he suddenly flips you over, pushing you back onto the mattress and wedges his hips in between yours before sliding right into your cunt again, grabbing both of your legs by the back of your knees as he starts fucking into you again.

“Jealous?” he asks, his eyes glued to the way your breasts bounce from the impact of his thrusts. “How would you feel if I asked about your last time with Dan–”

“6 months ago. Now you,” you say with no hesitation aside from the loud moans and cries escaping your throat.

He blinks at you but then chuckles and shakes his head before lifting your legs up onto his shoulders so he can lower himself and hover his face right above yours. “I last fucked her the night of the music video shoot.”

…

What?

He catches the frown in your brows but doesn’t comment on it, simply keeps fucking you to chase his own high.

“Why that nigh–”

He deadpans, “Because you made me horny as fuck.”

Holy shit. Did he fuck her simply because you had turned him on?

You cry out once he starts snapping his hips aggressively into you, face lowering even further to press his lips against yours.

You whimper against his lips, eyes shut tightly as the tip of his dick barely grazes your cervix.

“Rub yourself for me,” he whispers against your lips and it only means he’s close to his orgasm.

You comply without another thought, reaching down your stomach to rub your poor sensitive clit as he continues to drill into you.

“I’m gonna cum, where do you want it?” he whispers as he pulls away from your lips. You open your eyes and glance up at him, brows furrowed and soft moans continuously falling from your lips. He’s been cumming inside of you ever since you two started sleeping together but he still makes it a thing to ask every time.

“I want it deep inside of me, sir. Give it to me,” you moan, watching how his face twists from you calling him ‘sir’.

“Fuck. You’re gonna make me fill you up again, huh?” he grunts and his hips start stuttering in their movement, telling you that he’s close.

“I only ever want you to fill me up, boss.”

Those words are all he needs to shoot his load straight into you, painting your slick walls in his cum and long cuss words fall from his lips. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he grunts in between sloppy thrusts, lips coming down to kiss you again as he rides out his orgasm.

You hum against his lips, your fingers still furiously rubbing circles onto your clit. If he keeps kissing you like this for a moment longer, you’re going to cum. Hard.

“Keep going,” you whimper against his lips as you rub your clit faster once the familiar knot in your stomach starts coming undone.

“Anything,” he whispers, picking the pace back up as he fucks you to your orgasm.

“Oh, shit, fuck,” you cry out even more cuss words when your orgasm finally hits you, dropping onto you like a pile of fucking bricks.

You sob his name as he snaps his hips into yours, fucking you through your orgasm, still not removing his lips from yours because he knows how much you like being kissed during your orgasm. And he likes it too.

After a few more lazy thrusts, he finally comes to a full halt inside of you. “Shit,” he whispers as he parts his lips from yours and drops your legs from his shoulders.

You both try to catch your breath in silence, not much else being said.

“Heh,” is all you can get out when you think about it. He leans down to kiss your neck, cheek, lips, all over your face until he notices the mischievous glimmer in your eyes and a shit eating grin on your lips.

“What?” he asks, confusion coating his tone.

But that’s it. After he told you his little plan on using Daniel to keep the public eye out of your business with Yoongi, you’ve finally realized something after all this time.

“Nothing, just,” you say as you nonchalantly shrug your shoulders and move your hands up to cup his cheeks. “You were always saying I was scheming but…” You look up at him with the most bratty look in your eyes you can muster. “But you’ve kinda been the schemer all along.”

At this, he stares at you with a blank expression for a while but you know him well enough to notice he’s looking for a way to answer this, and he does.

His eyes narrow at you like they would all the time back in your earlier days at the company and a smirk starts tugging at the corners of his lips. And the next few words out of his pretty mouth knocks the oxygen right out of your lungs.

“I can’t believe you’re just now realizing that, baby.”

— May be continued in a sequel.

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[bambisspeckles]

Disasterology {BD!Simon}

Chapter Three: No Plan

*pics for aesthetic purposes only

CW: angst, insecurities, probable misrepresentation of medical and military procedures, mentions of terminating pregnancy (this is the last time it will be mentioned), simon is actually so soft even though he's bein kinda mean, reader has anxiety, normal pregnancy stuff, mildly edited! lmk if i missed anything <3

WC: 1.8k (ahhh!)

Summary: The reality of the situation is starting to hit you as you finally come to the decision to keep the baby. Even if Simon is supporting you now, part of you wonders how long you can really trust him.

─── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ──────

A week later you and Simon are sitting in the waiting room of the obyn's office, anxiously awaiting your first ultrasound appointment. You're seeing Doctor Green again and that brings you some comfort, but it's not nearly enough to slow the pounding of your heart. You can tell Simon feels similarly by the anxious bouncing of his knee, his knuckles nearly white as he grips the fabric that covers his thighs.

You're not supposed to be here, you're not supposed to be in this position. It feels weird, strange, you don't think your brain can fully comprehend that you're about to get an ultrasound of your baby. Simon's baby too. You feel your face heat up a bit at the thought, somewhere deep down in all this madness, you were glad it was his. Of course, you know it's foolish, Simon most definitely doesn't want this baby, but you can't help the little flutter your heart gives.

Either way though, your parade is rained on fairly quickly.

During the following week, leading up to your appointment, Simon grew even more distant. You knew it was probably the shock of the news that was causing him to hermit into himself, but even then, seeing him pull further away from you cracked your heart a lot more than you want to admit. The kisses stopped, the frequent lingering touches stopped, the pet names stopped. It all stopped, everything stopped. You knew you weren't together, but at least before you could pretend to be.

It made every negative thought in your mind run rampant. You were constantly worried about him leaving, scared to death you'd wake up one day and your apartment would be empty, void of his presence. The night after you told him you were pregnant, he called his Captain, Price, and asked for leave. Apparently he gave it to Simon no questions asked and since then he's been staying with you.

He never sleeps with you anymore though.

A rough hand gently squeeze's yours, bringing you back to reality. Your head snaps towards Simon, eyes slightly wide like a deer caught in headlights.

"They called for us." They low timber of his voice washing over you like a soothing balm.

"Okay."

─── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ──────

This appointment was eerily similar to the first time you came to the clinic. Your stomach is agitated, though it might just be the baby, who knows at this point, your heart is pounding damn near out of your chest, and for the life of you, you can't stay fucking still. You're sure Simon is much the same though his balaclava hides most of the emotion on his face. You wish you could hide yours too.

When you enter the room Doctor Green has you sit on the edge of the medical bed so she can explain how the ultrasound will go. It's pretty straight forward in your eyes, they'll put some weird, cold gel on your lower stomach area, and then the ultrasound tech will use a fancy medical machine, a transducer as Doctor Green called it, to show you your baby. Simple enough.

"And, are you the father?" The question catches you off guard despite it being directed at Simon and your eyes flick over to him, his hulking figure seated in a tiny chair at the corner of the room.

He stares at her for a moment before looking at you and then back to her.

"Yes." He answer is short, curt, and Doctor Green grimaces a bit before plastering a smile back on her face.

"Well then it's wonderful you're here."

─── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ──────

The car ride home was uncomfortably silent and tense, a sonogram of your baby in hand. The ultrasound tech who actually conducted the procedure was a bit overly enthusiastic despite the biting energy of the room. She paid a great deal of attention to Simon even though you're the one who's pregnant. You tried to ignored nasty feeling that nagged at you when you thought of it.

You wonder if things had played out differently, if you would have left that appoint with a large grin smacked on your face. You wonder if Simon would place his large, rough hands onto your stomach, pride soaring through him, you wonder if the both of you would be happy together. Instead, there's an uncomfortable distance between the both of you despite being right next to each other. You sigh softly, swallowing back the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes, and look at the window, the late afternoon sky whipping past.

"Are you hungry?" Simon's voice slicing through the quiet startles you.

"What?" You turn your gaze from the outside to look at him.

"Said' are you hungry?" He repeats his words a bit slower this time, his eyes still planted on the road in front of him.

"Kinda…" Your voice quiet as you speak, worried if you raise it any louder it'll snap the tension that fills the car.

"Wha' d'you want?" His eyes quickly glancing over at your form next to him.

You let out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders before letting yourself lean against the car door once more.

"Dunno, nothing sounds or looks good to me anymore." He hums at your words.

"Can make somethin' for you…" There's a short pause before he speaks again. "My mum was like this when she was pregnant with tommy. Didn't want to eat anythin', had to get creative." The mention of his family shatters your heart a bit. You remember when he finally told you about them, about his family, when he told you what happened to them.

It's exactly the reason he didn't want to start another.

He clears his throat to draw your attention, your face getting a bit hot at the embarrassment of being caught staring.

"Sorry," you bit your bottom lip anxiously. "Yes, can cook something for me. I just can't promise I'll eat it." A small, cheeky smile pulls at your lips when you speak.

You fail to notice the way his eyes crinkle a bit when you smile softly, the perpetual frown you've had for days leaving your face for only a moment.

"Sure thing."

─── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ──────

This is the first real meal you've been able to stomach in at least two weeks, a quick unwanted grocery store trip was completely worth your time. When you arrived back at your apartment Simon immediately sent you off for a shower, instructing you to wash off whatever excess was on your stomach while he made dinner, and truly he didn't have to tell you twice.

Honestly this is the best you've felt in weeks, physically anyways, mentally you were still checked out but at least you weren't smelly or hungry anymore. You and Simon shared a meal for the first time in days, it was quiet, and a little tense, but it was a step towards… something. After dinner you had attempted to wash the dishes, a silent thanks for the meal, but Simon quickly forced you out of the kitchen with the low grumble of his voice. You shrugged him off before settling onto your couch, the sound of running water lulling you into a mental daze.

You sit on the couch in your dazed state for god knows how long, when suddenly the area next to you sinks beneath new weight.

"You ave' enough?" Your eyes meet his, still slightly glossed over as you nod. Your heart squeeze's a little at the question and you feel a bit silly for it.

Even with all the distance he still cares.

There's more silence for a while before Simon suddenly speaks again.

"I wan' you to move in with me, got more space in my flat n' a extra room." He pauses for a moment, and you assume he's trying to gauge your reaction, before he speaks again. "Plus I can take care of you better there."

His proposition shocks you a bit but you can't say you're completely surprised. Simon likes to be in control of his environment, he likes to he in control of what's his, and even if he won't say it out loud, you're his.

"Simon I can't do that… You need your space! I can't imagine moving in with a crying baby will make our situation any easier. Not to mention I'm not even sure I'm keeping the baby!" Simon releases an irritated sound, something low and deep.

"You want to though." You tilt your head in confusion. "You want to keep the baby, don't you?" His brows are furrowed, face now uncovered by his mask, he tilts his head to match you.

You do want to keep the baby and the guilts been eating at you for days now. You feel guilty for wanting something Simon doesn't, you feel guilty for wanting more. You feel guilty for the way your heart flutters when you think about having his child. Your fingers subconsciously reach down to pick at the threads of your shirt, tears welling in your eyes.

"Hey, get out of your head, none of tha', no cryin'." Simon's thumb traces over you cheek, subsequently wiping your tears away.

"How did you know?" Your words come out between sniffles. "How could you tell? I barely said anything, you've barely talked to me." Simon's thumb pauses on your face, a look of guilt crossing his features.

"I know when you want somethin'… Wasn' hard to tell." He removes his hand from your face, loosely shrugging his shoulders.

"I'm sorry.." Your voice coming out quiet as you speak.

"No." The hostility in his voice alarms you, he seems to take note of that and repeats his words slower. "No… I don' want you to apologize or feel guilty, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"Simon…" You bite your lip harshly, hoping the pain will stop more tears from spilling over.

"I…" He swallows thickly. "I'll take care of you. We'll get you're things n' move you into my flat. Can do whatever you wan' to make it feel like home." You want to tell him that anywhere is home as long as he's there but you refrain.

Simon's not a bad man, he's trying. You're sure he's damn near as scared as you but he's trying to push past all the walls he's put up for you. To be there for you. Even if he doesn't want to be with you, at least not in a romantic way, he's not cruel enough to leave you all on your own. You just have to trust him.

You scoot closer to Simon, and for the first time in weeks he welcomes you with open arms. The warmth of his body seeping into yours causes your eyelids to grow heavy, you shift against him but he just shushes you gently, holding you tighter against his body.

"Jus' sleep, I'll take care of everything."

He whispers the the words softly, his lips brushing against your forehead. They bring a comfort to you that you haven't felt in weeks, a salve that soothes the open wounds of your heart.

Maybe everything will be okay, even if it's just for a little while.

─── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅𐀔⋅⋆ ──────

ummm :3 hi! it took me like 3 days to write this idk why! anyways I love this story it's nice to have smth i'm proud of <3 ilysm mwah mwah! thank you for reading, likes and reblogs are appreciated assss always! take care of yourselves lovies <3

[vxperorchist]

Hello, I hope you're well and having a good day. I saw you're taking requests so I was wondering if I could ask for kazuha x fem reader angst? Like reader asks for a break up because she never felt good enough for him and the gossip of other people telling her she's too ugly and pathetic to be with someone like kazuha brings her to the realization that she's holding him back from being with a beautiful and perfect woman like lumine that he deserves to have so she wants to set him free?

Sooo this is a stupid request but ty if u feel up to writing it.

p.s I love your writing.

Ahhh thank you so much for requesting! This request is not stupid at all, and I love the way you're thinking! Plus, I'm also a big Kazuha lover so who am I to say no to writing for him.... I originally wanted to make this a happy ending of some sort but then i was like no i want to keep it sad, so I kinda made it both. It can be interpreted by the reader 😉. (Forgive me if this is not very good, I don't write angst very often, but I am always so down to attempt it)

Unfit for you. (Kazuha x Fem! Reader)

Warnings: Being insulted, no serious warnings.

Genre: Angst

From the beginning, you realized what you were getting yourself in to, you just didn't realize it would be this messy.

Kazuha was known in various places, who couldn't know him? He was everywhere at once, whether it was physically or tapping in through the wind, a bit of him remained everywhere, and he took a little bit of everywhere with him.

When the two of you met, you clicked immediately. Wherever he went, you followed. Wherever you went, he followed closely behind as well.

With that travelling, you learned his and shared his experiences. He had his fair share of getting hit on, but can you really blame them? He'd brush it off, ignoring or politely turning girls down, but you couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealolousy.

It's not that he made you feel insecure in a relationship, it's the fact that you felt like you were holding him back. You had voiced your concerns plenty of times, and he reassured you each time that you were more than enough for him.

With each lingering glare every young girl gave him, you started to believe him less and less. He was strong, talented, and free. He was everything everyone wanted, including you.

He couldn't help but be kind and gentle to everyone who came along, it was something you adored about him so much. Lumine had been present in both of your lives for a time, you would occasionally see her around, but she never stayed for long. She was so similar to Kazuha.

You felt a twist in your stomach as she greeted Kazuha as you stood to the side. "Kazuha!" Paimon greeted enthusiastically, hovering circles around her travelling companion. "Hello there, you two, it's been a while since we've last met." He greeted in return, giving a friendly smile to the two of them.

You zoned out of their conversation; it was for your own good and sanity. Lumine left after a few hours of staying in the area. You didn't have a clue what she was there for, and you didn't really have the curiosity to know.

Kazuha came back to you after the day, laying in your shared bed with you. This was the best part of each day, coming back to him and letting all your problems drift away.

He held you in his arms, but the problems didn't drift away with sleep this time. This time, it lingered.

You awoke, and he was gone once more. You decided to help along the ship today, as later today was departure day. You greeted Beidou, helping pack things up and shoving them into the corresponding compartments.

"Y/n, you been hearin the rumors recently?" You turned your head to the captain. "Huh?" You didn't indulge in the drama of the nation you were staying in; it was always temporary. You didn't care nearly enough to worry about who said what, or who fought who in the nation. You wouldn't remember these people in week.

That was until you would always remember them. "Apparently Kazuha's popular amongst the cities here, everybody's talking about him. I even heard he was single through one rumor, so I wanted to check in on you."

You frowned. You thanked Beidou for telling her and reassured her that the two of you were indeed still together and happy.

He was happy at least. You felt yourself shattering with every rumor. You heard more and more about it as you were packing up. Another member of the crew told you about stuff she heard in the city. She told you that she overheard a group of girls talking about "Kazuha's girl" and how she was unattractive amongst the culture there.

It was starting to hit you now, every new nation came with new rumors, new discussion, more hate towards you. You who did nothing to the people there.

What could you do differently? Your clothes? Your hair? How you presented yourself?

"Kazuha, talk to me please." You paused him as he was walking off the ship, into the next nation you had touched port in.

"What seems to be the issue?" He watched you with the same gentle eyes he always looked at you with.

"We've barely talked. People think we aren't dating anymore."

"Really? Thats quite an assumption people make about us without knowing anything." He dismissed the idea entirely.

You gave up on the idea of trying to bring up the rumors to him, and how much it was affecting you. You knew he loved you, but he wouldn't address this idea. It was simply his mindset, an unshakeable mindset.

He thought the rumors meant nothing, however he wasn't the target of the gossip. Even then, he thought the rumors shouldn't effect you, because he loved you.

After months of putting up with new rumors and new insults thrown at you, you decided to bring it up to Kazuha one last time. You wouldn't beg or ask him any longer to change, because he shouldn't have to change for you. You loved him for him, and wanted him to prosper with someone who wouldn't need him to change. Someone who was more similar to him, someone like Lumine.

You had went into the city this time with him. He didn't ask you to, but you felt this was the best time to let him down.

You stopped at a bridge to overlook some water, you told him each rumor and insult that had been thrown at you as of the last few months. He did nothing but listen, something he was so good at.

You told him you wanted to let him go. He was free in all other aspects, except romantically. Romantically, he was tied down to you.

"Kazuha, I won't keep you. You are someone who prides himself on freedom, and I'm the only one holding you back from that. You deserve more, you deserve better than me. Someone who travels like you, someone who seeks the thrill and wind like you do. I can't offer those things, and I won't make you change so I can understand you."

You let your fingertips fall from his hand, offering him a last gentle smile.

"If I didn't want anything tying me down, I would have cut the rope that ties me a long time ago. Every wanderer needs a place they can come back to no matter where they are, and you were that place for me."

The wind picked up between you two and he brushed the side of your arm with his tainted hands.

[yuhzz]

movies, deals, and feelings - k.ch x fem!reader

summary: what started as a deal, (almost) ended with a kiss.

warning: fluff. angst.

word count: 4.8k words

==============

Chaewon sighed before taking her shoes off and heading straight to the living room. Her phone made noise alerting that someone had texted her. She grabbed it from her pocket and deleted a certain contact without even bothering to look at the message that's been sent to her.

"God, all I want is to spend my summer peacefully, why the hell can't anyone understand that?" she grumbled and plopped herself down on the couch.

For some unknown reason, she felt like something was missing--more like someone? Chaewon thought of it deeply until suddenly, a specific person came to her mind.

"Y/n, I should call Y/n" She smiles. "Oh! Chaewon-ssi!" Chaewon's smile grew bigger as she heard the enthusiastic voice of her dear temporary lover - you.

"Can you come over and stay the night here?" Chaewon pouts.

"Our deal hasn't even started and yet you're already inviting me over to your house" you chuckled. "Well, now that you mentioned it, it is a great deal after all" Chaewon shrugged.

"It'll really help me get my chance with Yujin" She mumbled. You, on the other hand, became silent. "Hello? Y/n?"

On your side, you blankly stared at the floor. Of course, right, what were you thinking? All of this is to simply help Chaewon have her chance with Yujin.

Ahn Yujin, a person you don't even know. Well, that is until 2 days ago (Friday).

You first met Chaewon at a bar, all drunk and wasted. With the alcohol taking effect, she ended up (unknowingly and unwillingly) informing you about her oh-so-sad life where she likes this girl who doesn't even like her back.

Simply put it, is an unrequited love that hurts so badly.

So! You took her to a hotel, booked 2 rooms, and talked to her the day after. At first, she was suspicious of you. Don't worry, nothing transpired though.

Well, Chaewon did actually throw things at you but that was not really a big deal.

After quite a while, she had calmed down then and you took that chance to explain everything that had happened.

Chaewon felt guilty after that, of course. One thing eventually led to another and both of you agreed to a deal.

A deal where both of you will date temporarily.

The deal was supposed to end when summer is over (about a month and a half) but Chaewon needs to go back to Japan in 3 weeks.

So you agreed to a date for 2 weeks and a half.

The remaining days of Chaewon's stay, you will spend it cutting the ties you had with each other. Though, something tells me that wouldn't be the case for both of you.

Anyways!

Today is the day before the deal starts but Chaewon just felt like she needed some company.

"Y/n?" she got worried. You snapped out of your thoughts and replied, "​​​Alright alright" Chaewon smiled widely.

"Okay, I'll wait" 

==============

Half an hour has passed and you still were not there. So, she wondered. "What's taking her so long?" She asked herself.

*Ding Dong*

She snapped out of her thoughts as soon as she heard the doorbell ring. Chaewon smiled and ran towards the door. She ran in so much hurry that her hair was all messed up.

"Chaewon? Did something happen?" 

She heard your voice from the other side of the door.

"Nope! Nothing happened!" she replied while trying her best to fix her hair. Suddenly, the rain started pouring.

"Omo- Chaewon-ah! It's raining, can you please let me in now???"  "Ahhh shoot" she sighed and gave up on fixing her hair to let you in.

"Hehe" She welcomed you with a giggle and oh boy did it make your heart skip a beat. Because of that, you held your heart dramatically while saying "Stop- I'm going to die because of your cuteness- Noooooo!!" 

Chaewon laughed.

"Noooooo stop it! God forbids what could happen to me! I'm too young to die you cute kid!" you continued joking.

"Stop that you idiot" She playfully hit you on your shoulder. "Alright alright- Oh! By the way, I got us pizza that's why I took too long to get here" you smiled apologetically.

"It's fine. Tell you what, why don't we eat the pizza you bought while we binge-watch Harry Potter?" Chaewon offered, trying to lighten up the mood a bit.

"Harry Potter? You mean to watch all 8 movies? Together?" you asked.

"Yeah, is there something wrong?" The latter asked, worried that you would rather do something else than watch her favorite movie series with her.

"No, not at all! I've been wanting to actually watch all 8 movies again, it's merely that I didn't have enough time back then" Chaewon sighed in relief and invited you over to the couch.

And just like that, you spent the whole night watching Harry Potter concurrently.

Fast forward to, let's say, numerous hours later (about 5 hours), Chaewon insisted that you stay.

"Why don't you stay here for the night? I mean- It's already 8pm and it's still raining outside. B-Besides! Don't couples u-usually wake up next to each other in the morning-?" Chaewon stopped ranting when she felt your teeny-tiny hands hold her shoulders to calm her down.

"Calm down, I'll stay"

============

The 1st Week

============

"Y/n-ah, wake up, hey" She shook you. No~" you complained. Chaewon sighed.

"Yah, wake up" She shook you again and again until you sat up with a grumble.

"But I still don't want to" you mumbled. "Oh, just get up, you're already awake anyway" you sighed and obliged.

After that, you talked about how you'll spend the day together, no wait.

Never mind, you actually started planning how you should spend the week together.

"How about we spend time today watching TV and ordering food and then, tomorrow we'll roam the city?" You suggested.

"Sure, I'd love that" 

After a little conversation, both of you finished planning about what to do for the rest of the week.

On the 1st day, which is today, you're going to stay home and rest to gather all the energy you need for the activities you're going to do tomorrow and the following days.

Tomorrow, you decided to roam the city whilst telling each other about your personalities, personal interests, etc. Basically, tomorrow is for introduction in order to know each other better.

On Wednesday, Arcade.

Thurday, Arcade.

Friday, Arcade.

Saturday...still Arcade.

And finally, Sunday, theme park.

Yes, you spent 3 hours planning what to do for the rest of the week and ended up with 2 days reserved for "Who" "what," "where," or "when" questions, and then 4 days for arcade, and then lastly, 1 day for theme park.

Your schedule for next week's still yet to be decided.

"Harry Potter?" Chaewon asked you.

"Eh? Again???" you were baffled.

"Why? It's fun to watch after all" She shrugged.

You sighed.

"Nope! Not Harry Potter again" You shook your head in disagreement. "What??? What are we going to watch then?" she asked, her mouth slowly forming into a pout.

"How about something funny? Kevin Hart's movies maybe?" you suggested.

"Kevin Hart? Who is he?" you couldn't react as you couldn't believe the words coming out of Chaewon's mouth.

"Seriously? You don't know Kevin Hart?" 

"Well, I did ask who he was" 

"Kevin Hart's by far one of the best actors out there! He legit rules comedy!" 

"Okay, so we're watching Harry Potter?" Chaewon easily shrugged the topic off, completely shocking you.

You, then, feigned a fake hurt expression.

"No way. We're going to watch Kevin Hart! Each and every single one of his movies!" 

"What the-! How many movies does he have anyway?!" The latter asked.

"About...50?" 

"Wha- How the heck are we supposed to finish all of that???" Chaewon asked you who got your phone out to search for something.

"Oh, don't worry about that, we can continue watching the rest tomorrow" 

"Huh? What about the schedule we planned???" 

"Oh! Right!" You exclaimed.

"See? There's no way we can finish it all-!" 

"Correction about the 50 movies, he actually has 63"

"Thank Go- Wait, what??? But-"

"Oh and don't worry about the schedule, we can do the rest of it next week or next, next week!" You exclaimed - leaving Chaewon on the couch to go fetch your laptop.

"63? How are we going to finish that? It's too impossible!" Chaewon whispered to herself. Even though it may sound too impossible, just seeing you feeling all giddy, excited, and worked up like this makes her happy.

A few minutes later, you came back with your laptop in your hands. After that, you started watching Kevin Hart's movies which started with his first one, Paper Soldiers. Every now and then, both of you would laugh out loud. There were also times when you just couldn't stop smiling until their jaws hurt.

Today sure was a happy day.

Tuesday came fast and just as promised, you continued your marathon.

Yesterday, you finished 5 movies. Today, you aim to do the same.

After your 3rd movie though, both of you agreed to watch something else. Of course, Chaewon requested to watch a Harry Potter movie to which you had no other choice but to agree (it's not like you could refuse her anyway).

The rest of the week passed by just like this.

Just the 2 of you spending your time together - side by side.

============

The Half of 2nd Week

============

"Y/n-nie" Chaewon shook you. "Wake upppppppppp! We only have 20 more of his movies to watch left" she urged you.

"But I thought you didn't like watching his movies" You mumbled sleepily.

Chaewon held your wrist and nudged you - the atmosphere suddenly getting all serious.

"Look, I really like watching Kevin Hart now, and your in-between fun facts about him but, don't you think that we might run out of time? It's the second week and yet we did nothing else but stay here and watch movies" she frowned.

"Even a day's enough for me to make your time worth a while but...if you want to, then we can do something else. Say, how about we go to the arcade today?" You wondered without having a single idea about how your words affected Chaewon.

"Oh, Chaewon-ah, why are you blushing?" You asked.

"N-Nothing. The arcade's a great idea, I'll just take a bath" And just like that, Chaewon stormed off - her cheeks as red as a tomato.

"Cute" you mumbled.

Not too long after, Chaewon finished taking a bath and was already dressed up. She wore a beige-colored oversized tee and tucked it in her ripped jeans.

"Let's go!" She exclaimed happily.

"But I'm not ready yet..." you trailed off.

"Eh?"

"Yeah, I'm not ready yet since you used the bathroom..."

"Oh"

"Don't worry though, I'll be ready in a moment" you reassured her.

"Alright"

Not too long after (again) you came out of the bathroom, you finished taking a bath and were thinking about what to wear.

"Maybe beige too? To match her shirt?" you contemplated. "Or maybe a shirt that'll contrast what she's wearing...?"

"Lemme search" you mumbled.

"Black and warm white? But I don't have any warm white colored shirts and I don't really feel like wearing black today..."

"Y/n-ah, why are you taking so long? Did something happen to you?" The worry in her voice was too evident.

"I'm fine! It's just that I...I don't really know what to wear...?" Chaewon giggled. "Just wear anything Y/n-ah, you look pretty no matter what the outfit is after all," she said.

And your heart fluttered and your heart beat faster and you blushed madly and- "O-Ok" you stuttered.

10 minutes later, you finally finished dressing up. You wore a mustard colored tee and white shorts.

"Seriously? Shorts?" Chaewon chuckled.

"Why? What's wrong with it?" You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Nothing, it's just that I'm afraid you're too pretty in it" she said which made you sigh. "You're unusually cheesy today Ms. Kim. What did you eat to end up saying things like that?" you joked but when your eyes turned to Chaewon, the latter seemed a bit serious.

"Well, today's our first date as a couple after all," Said Chaewon. You were cut short on your breath after what she had said.

Oh, just why the hell are you too sweet to her today, Chaewon? She's about to die from you!

"How about we just go? I cannot take your cheesy lines anymore" you sighed. She ended up laughing.

As planned, or as decided, you went to the park first, you know? To know each other better since last week all you did was laugh while watching movies.

"So! What's your favorite color?" you asked first. "Me? Maybe pink? I don't know...I'm not really sure" Chaewon said, completely unsure.

You continued asking each other questions. Sometimes it's all about nonsense, but there were times when those nonsense questions actually made sense. You did everything to keep the interest in the air going.

But after a while, you eventually decided to call it a day after asking each other too many questions.

You went to the arcade (as scheduled) the day after. You had fun and were happy so when the clock struck 6, you had dinner and went back home.

Wednesday came and instead of spending your time in the arcade again, you went shopping.

In the midst of it though, someone came up to the two of you. A woman who looked like she was about your age too.

She first looked at Chaewon who had her hands intertwined with you. The stranger then moved her gaze to look at Chaewon's hands.

"Y/n-ah, it's done" The woman spoke and looked up to meet your eyes as if she has known you for years.

"Thanks" You mouthed. The latter nodded. You smiled before looking at Chaewon.

"Let's continue our shopping spree," you said and looked at Chaewon who looked back at you. "Okay," She said and left the woman standing in the middle of the grocery store.

"I hope you won't have your heart broken because of this, Y/n" She mumbled as she looked at Chaewon who was looking at you - eyes smiling along with her lips.

============

"So who was she?" Chaewon asked you for the hundredth time.

You just got inside Chaewon's car and were getting ready to leave after putting all the boxes filled, with what you bought, inside the car's trunk.

You sighed and said, "Do you really want to know who she is?" Chaewon nodded eagerly.

"She's my ex" Her shoulders dropped and her eyes lost their energy. "Her name's Yunjin, we broke up last year. The decision was mutual though since we both agreed that it'd be better for the both of us" You said and drove off the parking lot.

The rest of the ride was silent.

After getting back home, Chaewon went straight inside the room and you spent your time putting, all the things you bought, where it's supposed to be.

Chaewon, on the other hand, doesn't know why she feels like this. She feels like she's mad or something. Maybe jealousy?

The rest of the day passed by with both of you ignoring each other.

And truth to be told? In such a short time, you miss her already - all the while, silently hoping that she feels the same.

Thursday! A big day for the 2 of you.

Somehow in some way, both of you managed to act like nothing happened and put everything that happened yesterday behind you. You managed to (with the help of Yunjin) reserve yourselves a theme park. (This is the reason why she approached you yesterday inside the grocery store)

It'll just be the 2 of you alone inside a big place. Today, you'll have all the time in the world to enjoy each other's company.

You first started with the rollercoaster despite the fact that both of you are (obviously) scared of it. From there, you wasted no time enjoying the other rides as well.

The day eventually came to an end (sadly) and before saying goodbye, you decided to ride the Ferris Wheel where you'll share everything that you loved and hated throughout the week and a half that you spent with each other.

Both of you sat in front of each other.

"I'll start," She said. "I gotta be honest right?" She asked and you nodded.

"Oh, ok then..."

"...let's see. I'll start with the things I loved first"

Chaewon started sharing the things she loved, starting with how she really really loved pinching your cheeks whenever you were sleeping up until all those lovely times you spent today.

"And then, the things I hated"

Only one word - name rather - came to her mind.

"Y-Yunjin" Her cheeks turned red as she tried to avoid your teasing look. "Hey! Stop looking at me like that!" She pushed your shoulder lightly.

"Alright alright!" you laughed.

After the laughter had died down, you took the chance to say a short sentence - enough to explain what you liked and disliked.

"I loved you and hated nothing else about everything" 

*Badump* Chaewon's heart went. *Badump* Is what her heart only knows during that moment.

Right after you finished talking, the ride was over. Both of you got off and walked towards the exit. You stood right in front of each other.

Time check: 11:56 pm

'Just in time' you thought.

The remaining 4 minutes are the time that's left for you to say your goodbyes and maybe something else. Inside that 240 seconds, only you can decide whether you'd like to spend the rest of eternity together, or not.

Just 3 words are what you need to forever feel each other's warmth.

But of course.

"Thank you for everything Y/n-ah, goodbye" 

You had no other choice but to watch Chaewon's back fade away from your line of sight.

A bittersweet goodbye it is.

You both knew you needed each other - or maybe it was only you who did.

To others, it may seem like both of you met the wrong person at the wrong time.

But to you and Chaewon, you were the right person at the right time.

So, there it goes.

Another story that meets a sorrowful ending.

============

The Other Half of 2nd Week

============

This is it.

After 3 days, Chaewon's soon going back to Japan.

It's Friday today.

After she woke up, she immediately went straight to the living room to watch. Hopefully, maybe this will help her forget you.

But just as she opened the TV, a Kevin Heart movie showed up. Memories suddenly showed.

Dejavu started hitting her.

Laughter in the living room, tears of joy - you.

Chaewon ended up turning the TV off immediately. With a sigh, she went back inside her room. She was about to lie down again when she remembered your sleeping figure on it.

"Damn it" she cursed.

Gosh, she sees you in every single corner of the house. House...she used to call it home, a place where she's comfortable.

A place that used to keep her warm during the cold.

But why does it make her feel lonely now?

What have you done to her, Y/n?

Well, since this house did nothing else but remind her of you, why not go outside and take a walk? So! She did and took her jacket before going outside.

Chaewon let her feet take her anywhere.

Just anywhere but the places you both visited together. Just not somewhere she'd be reminded of you.

"3 days..." she mumbled while walking on the side of the road. "In 3 days, I'll be leaving" she sighed.

As much as she hated to admit it, she's been thinking of the life she had to return to, how she'd spend her days, how life would feel if she didn't have anyone to binge-watch movies with - a life without you.

"Well, that would suck!" she exclaimed and stretched her arms. "Gosh, where do I go?" Chaewon pondered.

She continued walking, turning right here, turning left there - it was evident that she had no clear destination.

But the moment she stopped, Chaewon found herself standing in front of the place she least expected to go to.

"Y/n's?" she mumbled as she stood still.

Why is she here? Why was she standing outside your house?

"Damn it, you're in too deep, Chaewon." She cursed and shook her head. Deciding to leave again, she gave your door one final look before taking a step away.

However, before she could even take another step, your door suddenly opened. You walked out with the plastic bag of trash in your hands, your hair tied in a messy bun, and you were wearing your pajamas still despite the time being afternoon.

Chaewon couldn't take another step. She stood still - frozen.

Though you looked least presentable in other people's eyes, for her, you were pretty.

And for just a short moment, Chaewon wanted a life filled with laughter, a life where she'd all day (every day) be watching reruns of Harry Potter and Kevin Hart movies.

For just a short moment, Chaewon wanted a life where she has you.

"You know you can't, Chaewon..." She lightly slapped herself.

"You know you can't" she sighed and walked away.

Just then, you look her way, eyes lighting up from excitement. You raised your hands to wave at her. "Ch-!" But when you were about to shout out for her name, your hands slowly dropped, your smile disappearing.

You saw the way she looked. She was frowning and her head was down.

You wanted to be there for her. You wanted to comfort her.

You wanted to run after her - hug her tight.

But something was stopping you, and you didn't know why.

==============

2 days went by fast.

Chaewon's getting ready to leave. She's been packing up since 10 am and has been making sure that she leaves nothing behind. It's currently 12 noon.

Her flight is in two hours.

"Socks, check. Shirts, shorts, pants, jackets, all that yada yada, check. Let's see...Have I forgotten something?" She mumbled and stood up from the floor to roam the house again.

While she's doing that, you (back in your house) were feeling uneasy. "She's leaving tomorrow, what do I do?" you sighed and moved around your bed.

"Goddamn it!" You screamed on your pillow.

With a frustrated sigh, you shot up from your bed and bit the insides of your mouth.

"Maybe I should tell her about what I feel"

Yeah, you should.

"But does it have to be now, though?"

Yes, it has to be.

"Won't she reject me?"

I doubt that.

With one last sigh, you stood up from your bed and started getting ready.

After taking a bath, you wore the fanciest clothing in your wardrobe that you could find and wore it. You sprinted down the stairs and left your house in a hurry.

You ran to the nearest bus stop and got on a bus that drives along the block where Chaewon lives. In just 10 minutes, you've arrived.

Your legs were trembling and heck it became very hard to breathe!

You walked slowly towards her doorstep, breath hitching when you realized you were only moments away from knocking and meeting her face to face again.

"Here goes nothing" you breathed and knocked.

You stepped back after that and readied yourself. You waited.

And you waited...and you waited...and you waited.

But damn it she's taking too long.

"Huh..." You trailed off.

At this point, there are only two things that could possibly be happening. It's either Chaewon's not home, or she's ignoring you.

Or maybe you're just overthinking and she's busy packing up.

"Okay, let's not jump into things, maybe she's just not home" You sighed.

You continued waiting until suddenly, the door busted open revealing Chaewon who was breathing heavily and was carrying 2 suitcases. "Woah, you ok?" you asked.

"Y/n? What're you doing here?" She asked you, immediately composing herself in front of you.

Right, why are you here?

"I..." you came here with a clear purpose.

"I like..." You came here to profess your feelings.

"I'd like to see you off" but why didn't you?

"Oh...I thought it'd be something else but, thanks" she smiled at you, feeling a bit disappointed. "I'll uhh...I'll just get my stuff out here and I'm good to go. Do you want to wait for me inside or...?" She said, trying to look everywhere but your eyes.

"No! No...I'm good out here" you said and shook your hands.

"Alright. Uhm, can you please look after my stuff while I finish things up inside?" She asked you.

"Sure, sure." You shrugged and nodded your head.

"Thanks" she mumbled and fiddled with her fingers before going back inside.

Well, that was awkward.

While waiting outside, Chaewon was panicking on the other side of the door. "Calm yourself down, Chaewon. Calm yourself down" she whispered to herself and started gathering the rest of her stuff.

She spent another 20 minutes inside the house before going back outside again.

"You good to go?" you asked her. She nodded her head.

"I just have to wait for my taxi now."

"When is it arriving?"

"About 5 minutes and a half?"

"Oh."

Silence engulfed the two of you.

"You know, Y/n...I'll remember you," she said out of nowhere.

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"My life was mostly dull. I'd focus on nothing else but work, and I still should be doing so right now if only my boss didn't suggest I take a break for a little while."

You listened to her intently.

"And you...you certainly made my vacation better. So I'll remember you, Y/n. I'll remember you whenever I feel down because you make me smile. You'll always cross my mind whenever I see a Kevin Hart movie. I'll remember you whenever I feel cold because you make me feel warm. I'll always remember you because you touched my heart." She smiled warmly.

"I'll remember my feelings for you because I don't think I could ever find someone else like you in my life"

Your cheeks started getting warmer.

"Wha..."

Did she just confess?

Words were caught up in your throat that not even a simple 'I like you too' could come out of your mouth.

Looks like you're in too deep too, huh?

"I thought Yujin was your crush...?" You mindlessly asked.

She laughed wholeheartedly. "Pabo" Chaewon smiled and just then the taxi arrived. You stood still in your spot, observing Chaewon and the taxi man put her luggage inside the trunk.

Once finished, Chaewon hurried back to you. "'Till next time, Y/n" She mumbled.

Chaewon seemed to want to do something but hesitated at first. Slowly, she leaned in and kissed your cheeks.

"Goodbye," You watched as she got inside the taxi.

"W-Wait! Chaewon!" You ran after her.

Before she closed the taxi’s door, she raised her eyebrows and looked at you. “Yes?” she murmured.

“Will...will I ever see you again?” you questioned her. A subtle smile appears on her face. “Well, it depends. Do you want me to stay?” she uttered and got off the car, facing you with hopeful eyes.

“But I don’t wish for you to postpone your work because of me,” you spoke lowly, your breath hitching when you noticed her eyes drift down to your lips and back to your eyes again.

“I’m sure my boss will allow me to extend my vacation.”

“Still,” she sighed.

“No, it’s too impossible for us to see each other again. There’s no telling when I’ll be able to spend time off work. Besides, we’re from 2 different countries” Chaewon looked away from you.

“Then, let’s have a deal.” you proposed.

She looked back at you, slightly intrigued. “What deal?”

“I’ll find a way. I will come to you. Tour me around Japan. Let’s have fun together. We’ll go shopping, we’ll go to the amusement park, we’ll eat together, wake up next to each other - let us be us forever. I will stay and I will go wherever you will go. I want to be with you.” you held her hands.

“That is if you want to do the same.” you shrugged.

She laughed. “What kind of deal is that? Is that even a deal?” she giggled.

“I also don’t know. Just had to find a way to be dramatic, get what I mean?” you smiled.

“Alright then, I accept your ‘deal’.” Chaewon circled her arms around your neck.

“Can I kiss you? I wanna kiss you” you told her.

“Woah, calm down your horses. Let’s take it slow”

“But-”

“No buts, Y/n. Now get off me ‘cause I have to leave so that I could clean my house back in Japan before you arrive”

“Can’t you stay for a little while?”

“Can’t. My flight’s in 20 minutes, gotta leave.”

“Chae-!”

“Start packing up! I better see you in 3 hours!”

She got in the cab and left - leaving you smiling in your spot.

Looks like you’ll be able to continue your Kevin Hart movie marathon with her.

This time in Japan, of course.

[lewkwoodnco]

tis the damn season - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: estranged best friends to lovers trope my beloved!!! 😍 AHHH this is one of my fav fics I've written in a while. Poem below is Golden Boy by Cecil Miller, and the Spanish line is taken from a streetcar named desire by tennessee (idk how 2 spell) williams! this might be less proofread than normal + includes a few of my pre-infection hallucinations? lottt of angst, wc 5.1k!!

P.S. I think I'll be doing a part 2 to buy me presents! but not until a little later ahah and also the 12 days of fics are totally going to spill over hahah

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

Lockwood stares out the kitchen window. Both inside and outside, there is a bleak stillness in the air that sinks in his bones like a plague. It's too cold and too early in the morning for anyone to be properly out and about. But the season always messed up his sleep schedule more than usual, and now that they had taken a break from their cases for the holidays, there was nothing to occupy his treacherous mind, and its return to taut requirings of Christmases past.

Slowly, the other residents of Portland Row start to stir. George grumbles about their spluttering heating system and having to plod through the snow to get the mail, and Lucy promptly falls asleep in the cup of tea she's just brewed for herself. They were all exhausted, and rightfully so, given that the holidays was prime time for people to start looking into properly clearing out ghosts to keep their homes warm and cheery.

He slips out just as George's complaints about the heater start ramping up, and his mind is so scattered that he forgets to put his coat on. It's a little more brisk than what was completely tolerable, strictly speaking, but it was only just for a minute. When he reaches the mailbox, he runs into Mr. and Mrs. L/N, old family friends who had helped him more than he deserved over the years. They made some polite conversation while he rifled through the bills and letters.

"Oh, Anthony, we wanted to invite you over to tea sometime this week. Y/N's home for the holidays."

His hand slips and an envelope slices his finger open. It was bound to happen, given his glum and careless mood, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint to suppress his cry of pain in front of them.

"Home...as in here? London?"

Ever since she had left for boarding school, there would always be some talk of her dropping by for Christmas every year. But the plans would never be fully solid, or some other pre-existing commitment would prevent her from making the trip. He was suddenly feeling oddly claustrophobic. He glanced up and down the street, as if expecting her to be hiding in some bushes.

Mrs. L/N seemed to pick up on his distraction, and her brow furrowed with concern.

"Of course London. Where's your coat, dearie? Aren't you feeling chilly?"

"...yes. Now that you mention it...perhaps it's best I head back inside."

He gave a stiff sort of wave and walked back, mind reeling. Eight years. Eight years since he last saw her. What the hell was he supposed to do if he saw her now? How was he supposed to feel?

Luckily, he doesn't get much time to panic because as soon as he walks in, he narrowly dodges a wrench being lobbed at his head. Apparently, eleven freezing days with improper heating was more than what George could bear. It's usually a rather quick fix, but maybe the comparatively more extreme frost this year had corrupted the system beyond Lockwood's capabilities, because two hours later he was still no closer to getting it fixed.

Some time later, there's a knock on the door. He yells for someone to get the door, but he's buried too deeply in the house for anyone to hear him. Grumbling, he dusts himself off and walks to the door himself, head buzzing with frustration. He's so preoccupied with what more he could possibly do to get the heating working again that he doesn't think to check the peephole first. So when he opens the door, he gets the wind knocked out of him.

"Anthony."

It was her; rosy-cheeked yet looking effortlessly warm. Her facial features had lengthened and rearranged themselves as compared to when he last saw her, but there was still something expensive to the twist of her mouth and the crinkles near her eyes.

"It's been so long."

Even her voice was rich, like honey. Now that she was standing in front of him, the stitch in his chest from the morning seemed much more familiar. It had been some seasonally grievious paste that had coated his lungs and stoppered his mouth that made him feel eerily weightless if he dwelled on it too much.

He didn't know what to do. Exchange pleasantries, or skip to the part where he slams the door in her face? Before he could decide, he hears some shuffling behind him, and almost instinctively opens the door wider.

"Y/N. These are my associates. George Karim, Lucy Carlyle...Y/N L/N."

"Right. Lockwood and Co., was it?"

The four of them glance at each other, exchanging fleeting smiles for a good half-minute, before George has the sense to usher everyone inside for a cup of tea.

The kettle's already on, and George hands out the cups of tea waring mittens, his glasses barely visible behind the scarf mummifying the lower half of his head. If she notices the cold in the house, she doesn't comment on it.

They make some polite small talk. She's pleasantly amiable and a perfectly gracious guest, and talks about her Christmas dinner plans. Lockwood is disinterested and surly and wants to talk about his fragmented sense of self. At one point, his responses start to become so clipped that he earns a poorly concealed kick from Lucy, accompanied by a stern look. Luckily, it doesn't seem as if she's noticed. She was looking at the white blanket of snow over their garden carefully, as if dismissing their presence.

"Your garden looks beautiful. I'd love to have a look around."

George and Lockwood exchanged a look. It was freezing outside, and the harsh temperatures were clearly not worth braving for the little of the flowerbeds they could see. George opened his mouth to tell her as much, in his own snide way, but he hesitated. Lockwood felt his heart sink.

The thing was, she had had a magnetic effect on most people ever since they were kids, a quality that made it difficult for any grown adult to refuse her or for any child to oppose her. It was the same reason why she was sitting in his house, drinking out of his teacups, eating his share of biscuits (George and Lucy had clearly conspired as soon as they picked up on her staying for tea). But he had been sure that if there was anyone who could pull away from this siren call of hers, it would be George. The very boy who was meaningfully looking at him, trying to express some uncommunicable panic.

"Er...Lockwood?"

And so, he ended up taking her out for a brief and awkwardly quiet stroll in their garden once she was done with her tea. They meandered through the garden path stiltedly, and every snow-dusted weed and sapling seemed to astound her. Still, she divided her attention sufficiently to continue the ocnversation.

"Homeowner and agency head at fifteen. Impressive."

"Thank you."

"I bet you're the media's darling."

He shrugs.

She turns to him, eyes generously pooling with faux concern.

"It can't have been easy."

It wasn't easy, not that she would know anything about it. He wants to be spiteful towards her, lash out at her. God knows she deserved it. But something holds him back.

"So...that was George. And Luce."

She jerked her head back in acknowledgement, but he could see the slight smile playing at her lips as she did so. He had forgotten how terribly exasperating she could be.

"What?"

She shook her head, but that only made her smile grow wider, and so she finally relented. There's a vulpine twist to her lips that Lockwood has no patience for. "Nothing. I'm sure they're lovely people, of course. But if I wanted to know who you were hanging with while I was gone, I would have asked you."

He shrugged. "I wanted to share a bit of my life now. They're just about all of it."

She hums pleasantly, stopping short in front of one of the flower beds. She bends down and picks up a freshly fallen violet, its deep indigo harsh and unrelenting against the fresh, pure snow, against the season of vacancy and death. She holds it up in front of Lockwood.

"Viola Odarata. Symbolises humility. Flores; flores para los muertos. Flores."

A part of him wants to sneer at her in painful irony. How arrogant of her to think she could waltz back into his life as she pleased.

"That what they teach you in your boarding school? Useless facts about violets?"

She shivers, even though the air is completely still with no breeze, and her lips part. Too late, he realises he's gone too far. Her smile slips a fraction, and she takes on an air that makes him feel obliged to apologise. He resists it, and for a moment he sees something flash in her eyes, but it's gone before he can place it.

"Forgive me, but you don't seem terribly happy."

"The Problem's raging worse than ever. Happy things don't come by easy these days."

"...I suppose. It wouldn't -" For the first time, Lockwood thinks she might be feeling nervous. Her humanity, manufactured or otherwise, draws him in despite himself. "It wouldn't have anything to do with me...would it?"

He takes in her carefully manicured appearance, her intentionally pieced together life made up of the dreams she worked towards and achieved. And all he had was a house that was more of a burden than a blessing on some days and this inchoate dread over a Problem whose end was nowhere in sight. But he doesn't know how to express this resentment, this jealousy.

"I'm alright if you're alright."

Sad, dispirited eyes look into each other, searching for the fulfilment they're sure the other has found. She speaks in a tight voice.

"It's okay with the both of us, then."

She suddenly reaches out, and gently holds his finger with the papercut with a firm but comforting pressure. His first instinct is to pull his hand back, but he doesn't, and as the long seconds pass, he feels increasingly vulnerable. The cut was no longer bleeding, and was even well on its way to healing over just fine, but it was irritated from where he had relentlessly picked at it.

"Looks fresh."

She traces the cut with her other hand, violet folded in her palm, with a feather-light touch. The surreality of the moment - of her standing inches from her, her breath tickling his fingertips, her warmth spreading through him - catches up to him and makes his breath hitch. It was unbearably intimate and made him feel like the exposed, raw wound he had been nursing for the eight years she had been gone. And how like her to return with pockets full of unfounded promise to stitch the tears in his skin.

And just as quickly, she lets go of his hand and steps back, and Lockwood feels as though cold air has been forced into his airways. She tucks the violet behind her ear, and drifts back inside. The tilt of her joints is so familiar that it stirs something in him. Something long gone, something he was gripping like a fist.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they return, Lockwood excuses himself to his room for a bit of air, ignoring how closely George is watching him. He sits on his bed and takes a deep breath. His nightstand has a few miniature picture frames on it, and in one of them the picture's been flipped around. It's a picture of him and her, taken a few months before she left. It's how he remembered her before seeing her today. Sometimes, when the urge grew too great, he would tilt the frame under his nightlight, and make out the barest outline of their figures looped together on the other side of photograph.

He didn't know what to make of her departure, all those years ago. One day, they were swinging on tyres in her parents' garden, and the next day, she wasn't at school. But as the years churned on, the string tying his heart to hers stretched and tore a slow and painful death from him, out of the cavity she left, and he never felt quite the same again. And as they continued to age, the wound became old news and scabbed over what was once raw and paralysing, but a part of him always wanted to know why she did it, to be angry with her for being so callous.

And now she was back, pulling him under by the ankles, ripping the gash open viciously.

He didn't know how exactly to deal with it, after years of thinking of her adjacently, daring only to keep her in his peripheral vision, where he was kept safe. Maybe it was all part of a larger problem; the twitch in his hand and his recurring nightmare.

He's ten years old again, at a train station he's never been to, and likely one that doesn't exist. It's hard to see just about any discerning features, except for the massive train peeking through the fog in front of him. He looks to the right, and sees her strong fingers wrapped around a railing, her standing in the door of the train. He can't be sure of much, but he's certain she's looking at him. He stretches the moment as long as it will last, because it's all downhill from there.

There's a terrible groaning sound, and the train reluctantly starts to chug along, steadily gathering speed. He walks alongside it, gradually picking up his own pace, until he's nearly sprinting. All the while, she watches him with amused eyes, secure in her place on the train. He's panting, choking on the fog, eyes streaming. But if he can just reach her scarf whipping in the wind, the train will stop, and she'll step out, cool and gleaming and impervious to the cloud of dust surrounding her and-

He wakes with a start. He knows how it ends.

She slips through his fingers every time.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She stays for the rest of the day, and the four of them spend a cosy afternoon decorating their Christmas tree, carefully dodging the random mugs of hot chocolate littered across the room. While they were digging out the ornaments from the attic, she finds a box that he, evidently, had not tucked away deep enough.

"Remember these?" She holds up a flimsy, crumbling Santa Claus ornament made of construction paper. "We had so much fun making them."

He nods stiffly, subtly shifting the box towards a corner in the living room. It smarts his eyes to look at the hideous thing, as if its very sight was corrosive.

"Took me a while to find them, though. It must be a pain to dig them out every year."

He puts down the bauble he's hanging, and sighs. "I haven't...brought these out in a while."

Even her look of perplexity looks artificial. "Why not? Aren't there so many happy memories attached to these?" Her face falls ever so slightly. "Do memories of me not make you happy?"

Luckily, they're interrupted by Lucy placing a handful of miniature marshmallows into their hot chocolate. When she moves over to George, Lockwood wordlessly starts hanging their crafted ornaments, and she doesn't press him for an answer. When they're done, the tree looks a lot more crowded and chaotic than it normally does, similar to how Lockwood was feeling with her around. He looks at her, and isn't sure how he feels about the asymmetry of having her here.

Later, when she's about to leave, it starts snowing heavily, too heavily for her to walk home. So after a phone call with her parents, she decides to spend the night. Lockwood's in his bedroom when he hears a knock on his door. It's her, dressed in a spare set of Lucy's pajamas.

"I thought you'd be awake."

She wanted to know what he was doing, and what he was doing was wrapping some Christmas presents. Immediately, she obligingly offered to help, and she was too eager for him to outright refuse. Of course, he might have thought differently if he had known how abysmally little she knew about wrapping gifts. And so they stay up till the early hours of the morning, both of them trying equally hard to teach her the most basic of gift wrapping skills. As the night wore on, they got increasingly drunk on laughter over her heinously criminal attempts and Lockwood's limbs started to loosen up. At one point, he had given up entirely and placed his hands over hers, puppeteering the night's only decent gift wrapping while she smothered her laughter.

He doesn't remember much after that. When he next regains his consciousness, he's lying curled up next to her, with the late morning sun streaming through his windows. He watches her breathe, slow and steady, with a face so relaxed, amiable and familiar.

As her eyes start to flutter open, he panics and tries to look anywhere else, which isn't easy given how she's only inches away from him. They glance at each other, silently acknowledging their positions, and the silence hangs heavy in the air. He clears his throat awkwardly, trying to put as much space between them as he can with his arm wrapped under her. "When do you leave?"

She scrunches her forehead as she thinks. It's one of the few parts of her he instantly recognises and he gets caught off guard by a rush of affection, and a flash of an impulse to smooth out the wrinkles.

"Monday."

He pulls a face.

"We'd have the weekend together. Isn't that enough?"

They stay quiet, watching specks of dust float through the sunlight filtering through his partially drawn curtains. With how close they are to each other, they're not looking at each other's face, and it's unclear if she's asking him, or herself, or the dust they're watching. Was it enough?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that evening, Lucy wants to take a walk along some of the emptier roads in the snow. She takes their trip as her cue to leave but Lucy insists she come along, so she does. The four of them had cycled as far as they could, and when they reached the too-slippery parts of the road, they had dismounted and left their bicycles in a corner. Lucy and George were wandering around a bit ahead of them, while they slowly shuffled through the snow. She had picked up some newspapers on their way there, and was looking through them as they walked, taking particular interest in the odd article on Lockwood & Co.

"You've certainly had your fair share of media coverage."

"Along with a decent helping of frenzied media sensationalism, I suppose."

"My apologies. I forgot I was talking to the Anthony J. Lockwood of Lockwood & Co. Now, is the arson bit complimentary, or would I have to pay extra?"

She was teasing him, and it was irritating. There was a reticent air about him and after some politely delicate probing, which he had been too preoccupied to entertain, she had resorted to amusing herself. Toying with him like a figurine, the way she did all those years ago.

"You wear your grief so beautifully, Lockwood. Like...like jewels between your teeth..."

She pauses, flipping through the newspapers interestedly with inky fingertips, which flickered like shadows next to the soft white snow.

"...and you have such a winning smile. Golden boy." She laughs, and the sound feels like icicles pressing into his skull. "Golden boy," she trills, "you were a bit of a child. The world was having its way with you. You tried to...er, something...golden boy!"

She smiles at him lazily, expectantly, as if anticipating some kind of applause. But Lockwood is in no mood for her childish whimsies.

"I'm fine. I don't have any grief."

She frowns exaggeratedly. "'Course you do."

"I don't."

She mumbles, turning back to her newspaper. "Fine, then. Not like I'm the one holding onto...some kind of...ache."

He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes. How could anyone be this self-aware and yet completely oblivious? The strain on his self-restraint peaks and he buckles within himself.

"Why are you here, Y/N?"

She looks away from the snow. "Lucy said it'd be nice out here."

"No. I mean why are you here, in London? Here, at Portland Row?"

Her lips are pressed together, and there's something guarded in her eyes.

"I just...wanted to see how you were doing."

"Liar."

The word drops from his tongue in such an aggrieved manner with such vehemence that it makes her choke.

"How could you say something like that?"

He scoffs. "Please, let's not pretend you weren't dying to leave at the first chance. Not that you had the decency to tell me-"

"-I was ten!-"

"- having me go through the humiliating process of finding out on my own-"

"What do you want me to say, Lockwood? I'm sorry I left? I'm sorry you were alone? I'm sorry I was too selfish to give a damn about you?"

"-and you'll come back, choking on your silver spoon only to leave again and again and again until you're all alone-"

"You never wrote!"

"I didn't think you'd want me to!"

"I didn't know what I wanted!"

"Then what do you want?"

"YOU, you idiot!"

He stares at her, speechless.

"I was ten. And I was so foolish. How could I have thought of anything but you?"

With that, the last of her rosy, polished, alluring boarding-school airs fell apart. He looks at her and sees his own anger and yearning reflected back at him; anger and yearning he's hardly ready to face. Despite all their efforts to get away from the other, to move on, something between them held fast. Or perhaps it was that they were hopelessly, irrevocably intertwined.

"Of all the roads I could have travelled, you are at the end of every single one of them. Every single one of them, except the road I did travel. I'm here, Lockwood, because I thought I might have...I might have chosen wrong."

"So you think you can just stroll back now that it's convenient for you? I didn't know if I'd ever see you again, do you realise that?"

"What do you want me to do, Lockwood? You keep pushing me away. I feel like part of a past you're forever trying to run away from. So fine! I'll leave, then. I'll go back to the sorry hole I crawled out of, back to friends I don't care about, back to dreaming of the only person who's ever truly cared about me. Is that what you want?"

She doesn't wait for a response, and turns around and walks away from him.

"Y/N, come back."

She silently picks her bicycle out of the snow, dusting it off.

"You can't cycle in this."

Still ignoring his words ringing through the dead winter silence, she steadies herself and cautiously swings a leg over her bicycle. Lockwood starts to walk towards her.

"You'll fall. You'll hurt yourself. Y/N. Y/N!"

But she's already off, gliding soundlessly like a ghost through frigid air on icy roads.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He's already regretting his words by the time he reaches 35 Portland Row. When he first walks in, the house is so deathly quiet that he's convinced she's left. But her bicycle is thrown down in the garden and he knows she's too averse to the cold to walk home in the snow.

He walks slowly, his measure footsteps echoing on the wooden floors of the house, and he eventually finds her in the living room, sitting with her back to the door, staring at the drawn curtains. The fading evening glow spilling through the edges is streaked across her face and there's a soft crunching sound. As he comes closer, he sees the bowl of ice glinting in her lap, like fractured light, with her face as blank as a canvas.

"Have you gone completely mad? You'll fall sick."

She doesn't even flinch, as if she hadn't heard him. When she speaks, there's a dreamy quality to her typically strong and clear voice.

"I didn't want to come back. This city is nothing I want. I was always going to escape some day. And yet..." she trails off with glazed eyes, as if trying to look through some distant fog. "...and yet."

"You were right." The run back had left him mildly breathless, but was also exactly what he needed to get rid of the buzz in his head, giving way to some much-needed clarity. "About the...heartache. I was just sick of it. You're miles away. I love you in your sleep. I still reach the end of road alone. But I loved you all the while and...somehow that made the pain of leaving you worth it."

"I'm restless. I'm lost. I'm selfish." She swivels her head with an unnerving smoothness, grin wide and grotesque, ice glinting between her perfect teeth. "I'm so alone, Lockwood. Just like you said."

He doesn't know what to say. He walks towards her and picks up her bowl but her fingers close around his wrist like a vice. The gleam in her eye makes him want to pull his hand back. He's too old to play her games and lose.

"That's a bad habit."

"I'm a bad habit. One you can't seem to kick even after all these years: tell me, Anthony, why is that?"

"Y/N, stop. You'll spoil your teeth."

It only makes her grind her teeth even more tauntingly. It's an awful sound. "Good. Let them fall out, one by one. It's what I deserve. Maybe I'll finally learn my lesson."

Her grip on his sleeve lessens, but she doesn't let go. She grips the bowl with her other hand even tighter, as if suddenly terrified.

"Leave me be, Anthony. Leave me...to my vices...and violets and...violence."

He reads her face. He tries to figure her out, to read her like the open book she once was to him. When he doesn't leave, she shovels more ice into her mouth, uncomfortably clacking with her teeth, and continues.

"I was racing ahead...into some glorious sunset, towards some fantastic rainbow, at the end of which was some miraculous snowdrop and a wish to soothe my nomadic soul. I didn't have time for the boy with the sad eyes two streets down from me."

"I convinced myself that you resented my escape from the Problem. I was 15 with the bitter taste of lemongrass in my mouth and a stitch in my chest when I realised I spent all those years missing you. I couldn't run away from it, not truly. So I pretend. I pretend you don't hate me and I pretend I'm not an awful person and I pretend there's a chance you'd want me as much as I want you. I came home to tell you how terribly fond I was of you. It was only at your doorstep that I realised I had run out of places to hide."

"I don't have time for love. Nor the capacity for it. But I am tired of trying to outrun it."

She closed her eyes. Her voice was barely a croak. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving. If I could...I'd wish away the past eight years of misery." She opened her eyes. "Some nights, I can pretend they never existed. But I can't wish your happiness into existence."

Lockwood somehow finds his voice. "I thought this was the life you wanted."

"It is Christmas, once again, and my heart is lonely as an island...once again. What part of this could I possibly want?"

He lets go of the bowl of ice and covers her limp, frozen hand with his own. She speaks in a low voice, barely stirring the dust in the room.

"I'll never forgive myself."

He sits down next to her, his feather-light lips pressed to her temple. She feels drained, and exhausted, as if the spirit that had driven her for so long was finally fatigued. Her breathing was uneven and her lungs felt lopsided. But what a blessing it was to finally fall in the one place she knew her landing would be soft.

"One day. One day, I'll..."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He pulls out a fresh violet from his coat, still damp from the morning dew.

"Call it even?"

She accepts the flower and gives him a sweet smile. He revels in this smallest of victories.

Their peaceful moment gets shattered by the deafening train horn, which unpleasantly reminds Lockwood of where they are.

She hesitates for a moment, but then extends her arm and holds his face. There's a troubled look on her face, like there's something indescribable she wished to communicate just at the tip of her tongue. But the compulsion passes, and she settles for a trembling brush of his cheekbone with her thumb.

"You're such a darling, Anthony. I don't care what any newspaper or lawsuit has to say about you. You'll always be a darling to me."

"Good, because soon enough you might just be the only one."

She grins, widely at first, but then it chips, and for once he can admit that the sight breaks his heart. She gives him a hug, and he holds her like she's one of the precious metals that adorn her jewellery.

"You'll come back, won't you?"

"Perhaps. See you another weekend."

When they break apart, she swiftly picks up her suitcase with white knuckles and marches to the carriage without looking back. The train horn blares for a final time. The doors shut, and the wheels groan to life. He searches for her face, and finds it, but the reflection of the train station lights hides her eyes. It's at this moment that a disconnected part of him realises he doesn't want to wait for another weekend. He wants her here, and he wants her now.

The train picks up speed, and Lockwood tries to match it. But he's not trying to run. He knows that won't work, it never does.

"Y/N!"

That gets the attention of most passengers, including her. This train accelerates much faster than in his dream, and he's got an awful stitch running down the side of his torso by now, but he's beyond caring at this point. When she sees that it's him yelling like a maniac, she presses her flushed face to the window, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Would you stay?"

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits @ahead-fullofdreams

[kikiswriting7]

Take a Chance ✵ JJK ✵ MYG - 4

✵ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook

✵Summary: Y/N just move across the world to start her University. She is paired with a roommate who is complete social butterfly and makes a bet, Y/N needs to take more chances. And at the hint of her new found friend, her social and romantic life take a dramatic turn.

✵Tags/Warnings: Smut, College AU, red flag, sexual tension. angst, dirty talking, drinking, friends with benefits, full of cliches, friends to lover, temptation

✵Notes: Hello! Sorry it took a bit longer than imagined! I am also writing my bachelor thesis together with this and its a whole lot of words hahahah Anyway hope you enjoy it and if you want to be added to the tag list please sign up on this link! (You must be over 18 ;) )

lots of love, Kiki

CHAPTER 3 - ALL FUN AND GAMES UNTIL

Jin is screaming at the TV as we play the video game he so desperately begged to play. "Seriously!? How can you be this good?! It's not fair! You said you never played it before!" He quickly restarts the game from the point where I finished, and he didn’t. I shrug it off, smirking. We've been playing every other day together, either through calls or him coming over. Normally, we play some co-op game where we can team up against what we swear are young boys, who we are sure are screaming behind every elimination point we get. But today, he wanted to try this new Mario game where we need to complete the courses against each other.

“What can I do if you keep falling over?” I say with a straight face and a side-eye when he restarts the same level we have been trying to finish for the past two and a half hours.

Jimin, sprawled on the couch next to us and entertained by his phone, just laughs off the misery of his friend, earning him a fast shush.

“Ahhh, shiiiiish,” he says, taking a deep breath before pressing play again. “You know, I think we finally found someone who's good at winning. I bet she’s better than JK….” Jimin says to no one in particular. But the one he was talking about, equally sprawled in a corner, is quick to glance his friend’s way.

“I would bet my chips on you, Dice,” Jimin says, poking my leg with the tip of his foot. The nickname, unfortunately, stuck. Not because I liked it, but because they thought it was hilarious—such a random word for a nickname. Gabi proved her point for the nickname not too many nights ago when we were at a bar and I refused to do more shots with her.

The nudge delivered by Jimin was enough to lose my timing and jump wrong, letting Jin follow on with the course.

“HA!” He jumps over the seat. “Who’s the best now?!” He is excitedly playing the game standing up now, getting the attention of the two other boys in the room.

“Clearly not her…” JK mumbles under his breath. I give him a bad look, sitting back on the couch. Not too many jumps later, Jin’s character follows suit, descending to the bottom of the screen with a sad losing music. Jimin laughs again at the situation and goes back to being on his phone.

They have been over almost every day for the last five weeks. Eli is also one that doesn’t miss an opportunity to be over. However, since Yoongi introduced Mina, he’s been a bit more distant. If he doesn’t say he’s busy trying to finish a project for whatever class he has, he vanishes, to the point that not even the others know where he went. Whenever we do get to talk, often just small talk when the others are choosing the movie, he seems to always go back to the subject of this girl in school that he thinks is adorable. Every time he mentions her, he manages to describe her loosely enough that I (Jimin, Gabi, and I) think that the only person he could be describing is me. Mina was ruled out as a suspect as she doesn’t go to the same school and doesn’t exactly fit the characteristics he keeps mentioning.

“Man, you need to jump literally two seconds earlier,” JK gets up, steals the controller from Jin, and drops in the middle of the two of us, breaking the zoning out that I was entering.

Before he presses start, he leans closer. “Sorry, but this one you're not gonna get lucky, Dice.” And turns back to face the TV.

The countdown starts, and we both get ready to try and not lose first. Even Jimin, who clearly doesn’t give a single care, sneakily puts his phone down to watch what is about to unfold.

The game starts, and we both are flawlessly jumping the boxes, each step closer to the point Jin and I couldn’t pass. Knowing the circuit better, I know when to run faster, so I end up in front of JK, who is now reaching closer and closer to the edge of the seat. Everyone is holding their breath as we both successfully pass the point where we were stuck, and we can clearly see the end of the course and the last jumps we need to make when the door slams open with an out-of-breath Gabi, breaking our concentration long enough that we cannot complete the almost-done course.

Jimin rolls his eyes. “What is it now?” he asks.

“Oh man! I have piping hot freaking tea,” she slams the door shut. “I just saw Yoongi!”

“Are you for real?” Jungkook jumps up and points to the TV. “We almost won!”

“If you let me finish, you would have the same reaction as me,” Gabi says, flicking him off. She locks eyes with me before she continues, “I saw Yoongi. With Eli. As in, them together, quite close, together.”

Jimin is now the one sitting up. “What the fuck? Are you serious?” And Gabi just nods, confirming it.

“Forget it. This is so stupid. And so what if they were together?” Jungkook sits back down next to me but receives a side-eye from all of us, without reply.

“Anyway… thought you should know that,” she looks at me and at Jimin. Us three have developed almost psychic abilities at this point. We all know now that she means that the mystery girl might, in fact, not be me, but Eli.

Jimin sits back, rubbing his temples, processing the revelation. The room falls into a heavy silence, the excitement from the game now a distant memory. Jin, sensing the tension, puts down the controller and turns to Gabi.

“Wait, are you sure it was Eli? Maybe it was someone who looked like her?”

Gabi shakes her head, her expression serious but still with wide eyes. “Oh, I’m positive. They were really close, drinking that coffee.”

I glance at Jimin, who looks back at me with an expression that mirrors my confusion and concern. Eli and Yoongi? The idea of it doesn’t sit right, but Gabi's encounter seems hard to refute.

“Maybe they’re just friends?” I suggest, trying to diffuse the situation, though I know it sounds weak.

Jin, always the peacemaker, tries to lighten the mood. “Yeah, maybe it’s just a misunderstanding. You know how Yoongi is, always friendly with everyone.”

But the seed of doubt has been planted. I can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. Over the past few weeks, I’ve found myself growing more and more interested in Yoongi. His charm and the way he could always make me laugh—it was hard not to develop feelings. But now, knowing about him with Eli, of all people, it feels like a punch to the gut.

Jungkook, still beside me, is watching me closely. He’s  become good at reading my emotions, even when I try to hide them. He shifts a little closer, his shoulder brushing mine, offering silent support. 

Jimin, ever the skeptic, isn’t convinced. “Gabi, you sure you’re not jumping to conclusions? Yoongi’s always been a bit of a player, but this seems... different. I mean, I’m pretty sure that both of them know that you like Yoongi…”

Gabi crosses her arms, standing her ground. “I know what I saw. They were way too close to just be friends.”

The room falls silent again, each of us lost in our own thoughts. I can feel Jungkook’s eyes on me, and I know he’s worried. I can sense he wants to say something, but he holds back.

Finally, Jin sighs. “Look, sitting here speculating isn’t going to help. Plus, Jimin I might add that hes our friend for ages, so maybe lets not jump the gun here.” He says giving him a small side eye “Why don’t we do something to get our minds off this?” He suggests

Gabi nods enthusiastically. “There’s a party at this club in the city centre. We should go. It’ll be a good distraction.”

Jimin looks at me raising an eyebrow and smirking, waiting for my reaction. I take a deep breath, trying to push away the hurt. “Yeah, let’s go. Maybe a party is exactly what we need.”

As we start getting ready, the mood in the room shifts slightly. The anticipation of the party brings a sense of normalcy back, even if just temporarily. Jin and Jimin are quick to joke around, trying to lift everyone’s spirits. And starting the pre drinking that we normally do before going out. 

The drive to the party is filled with laughter and light-hearted banter, a welcome distraction from the earlier tension. When we arrive, the thumping music and the buzz of people immediately envelop us.

Inside, we try to stay together. We find ourselves mingling with the people in the middle of the club. But my mind keeps drifting back to Yoongi and Eli. I spot Jungkook across the room coming back with a few more drinks, our eyes lock. He gives me a reassuring nod, and I feel a bit more grounded.

As the night goes on, Gabi, Jimin, and I find ourselves getting progressively drunk. We take shots, laugh at stupid jokes, and dance like there’s no tomorrow. For a while, it feels good to let loose and forget about the confusion and hurt.

“Another round?” Gabi shouts over the music, holding up her cup. 

“Why not?” Jimin grins, already looking a more then just a bit buzzed.

I laugh, feeling the alcohol warm my veins. “Let’s do it!”

We clink our glasses together and down the shots, the burn of the liquor making me wince. But it’s a good kind of burn, one that makes me feel alive and carefree.

Jungkook watches from the sidelines, a small smile playing on his lips. He’s sticking to soda, playing the responsible one tonight. He catches my eye and raises his glass in a silent toast. I smile back, grateful for his steady presence.

Hours pass in a blur of music, laughter, and drinks. At some point, Gabi pulls me onto the dance floor, and we lose ourselves in the rhythm. Jimin joins us, his movements loose and carefree. We’re a trio of drunken joy, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I see Yoongi and not far behind, Eli. My heart sinks, and the carefree feeling evaporates.

Gabi, noticing my distraction, follows my gaze and frowns. “Ignore them,” she says, squeezing my hand. “Tonight’s about having fun.”

I nod, trying to take her advice to heart. But it’s hard to shake the image from my mind. Jungkook appears beside me, offering a gentle smile. 

“Hey, wanna get some fresh air?” he asks, trying to talk over the loud music. 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” I say, grateful for the escape.

We step outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the stuffy, crowded club. The outside, filled with people smoking and chatting loudly in the street. 

“You okay?” Jungkook asks, his voice soft.

I shrug, definetly feeling the alcohol in my system now and dulling the edges of my emotions. “It’s fine. Its not like we had anything anyway” I try to push away the conversation that I definetly don’t want to have right now. 

He nods, understanding. “You deserve someone who sees how amazing you are.”

I look at him and raise an eyebrow. For the past weeks, he has kept to himself with the flirting. We all have been going out together and his presence ever so reasuring. I give him a small laugh and shrug away his statement. 

He smiles, his eyes warm. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol, but I swear I could see his eyes sparkle when looking back at him. My heart flutters and I definetly must be way more drunk than I thought. I need to go find Gabi. She must be drunk in a corner somehwere. 

I quickly turn around and stumble and Jungkook quickly grabs my arm to bring me back to my feet. “Should we go home? I think you had enough of party today…” he says carefully. Damn that cold feeling on my stomach. I definelty don’t feel anything for him. But why do his lips look so pink and soft? I can only imagine what they would feel like..

I shake my head snapping out of it, catching his big round eyes staring back at me. 

“No, I need to find Gabi. We always come back together.” We weave our way back through the throngs of people, the music thumping louder as we reenter the crowded club. My head is swimming, a mix of alcohol and emotions making it hard to focus. Jungkook stays close, his hand lightly resting on the small of my back, guiding me through the chaos.

As we make our way to the bar, I spot Gabi leaning heavily into Jin, laughing at something he said. Jin, ever the gentleman, is trying to keep her upright, a bemused smile on his face. Jimin is nearby, his gaze darting between Gabi and the crowd, looking slightly lost.

I manage to make my way over to Gabi, and she immediately latches onto me, her eyes bright and unfocused. “There you are! Let’s do more shots!” she exclaims, her words slurring together.

I’m about to agree when Jimin and Jungkook intervene. “Nop, no more shots for you” Jimin says firmly, gently prying Gabi off me. “You’re already drunk enough.” Jungkook nods in agreement. “Let’s get you some water instead.”

Gabi pouts but doesn’t resist much as Jimin leads her away from the bar. I giggle but I feel a twinge of disappointment, part of me wanting to keep the party going, to drown out all the emotions bubbling inside of me right now. But Jungkook’s steady presence next to me is a reminder that I will not be taking anything else tonight other then water. 

Just then, Yoongi and Eli approach our group. They don’t make it obvious that they arrived together, and no one brings it up. Yoongi’s eyes find mine, a mix of concern and something else in his gaze. Eli is by his side, but there’s a distance between them now that wasn’t there before.

“Hey,” Yoongi says, his voice calm and composed. “You guys okay?”

I nod, with a loose smile on my lips “Yeah, just trying to keep Gabi from getting too drunk.”

“I would say Jungkook and Jimin are trying to keep you both from getting more drunk” Eli jokes and I feel him tense next to me.  “It was his idea!” Gabi butts in the conversation and points to Jimin who, also drunkly, tries to steady her. 

Yoongi glances at Gabi, who is now back to happily chatting with Jimin and Jin, then back at me. “I can take you guys home if you want. I’m heading out anyway.”

We leave the club, Yoongi and Eli flanking us as we make our way to the bus stop. Gabi and Jimin are in high spirits, though their drunken state makes it clear that they’re struggling to keep their balance. Gabi leans heavily on Eli, her laughter spilling out in bursts that mix with the cool night air. Jimin, also swaying slightly, is grinning like a fool and bumping into things as we walk.

Yoongi sticks close to my side, his presence steady and reassuring. Eli occasionally glancing back at Yoongi and me.

The bus ride is a mix of awkwardness and exhaustion. I notice that Eli is starting to fidget. Gabi and Jimin are getting more out of control, their drunken antics making it hard for me to keep a clear head. I try to help them find their seats, but Gabi keeps giggling and leaning against me while Jimin slumps into the seat, his head resting against the window.

Yoongi sits beside me, his arm brushing against mine. He leans in slightly, his voice soft. “How are you holding up?”

I glance at him, appreciating his concern. “I’m okay, looking forward to get home”

He nods, a small smile on his lips.

The bus jolts to a stop, and I watch as Eli exits, waving goodbye with a slightly disheveled look. The doors close behind her, and the bus continues on its route.

By the time we reach our stop, Gabi and Jimin are both in bad shape. Jimin stumbles off the bus and as Yoongi unlocks the door, as he is the who is the most sober between all of us, Jimin pushes him aside and crashes onto the couch in the living room, his body collapsing in a heap. Gabi, somehow finding the energy, manages to make her way to her room, though she’s swaying and mumbling incoherently.

Yoongi helps me get Gabi to her bed, making sure she’s settled before turning back to me. The apartment is quiet, the noise of the night replaced by a peaceful stillness.

I make my way back to the front door, feeling a wave of sobriety wash over me as the adrenaline from the night fades. The reality of the situation hits me hard. I’m alone with Yoongi, the person I’ve been trying to understand and connect with for weeks, but was just out with one who I tought was one of my best friends here. 

“Thank you for everything tonight,” I whisper trying not wake up Jimin who was asleep not too far, I look up at him with a shy and grateful smile. 

He takes a step closer, his eyes locking onto mine. “It was my pleasure. I’m just glad you are okay.”

There’s a charged silence between us, the air heavy with unspoken words and emotions. Yoongi’s gaze drops to my lips, and I can see the desire and warmth in his eyes. Without thinking, which I can only blame the 5 shots and the many cups of wine I downed this evening, I lean in, my heart racing.

Yoongi meets me halfway, his lips capturing mine in a heated kiss. The world around us fades away as the kiss deepens, his hands finding their way to my face, holding me close. The kiss is a mix of longing and relief, a culmination of all the emotions we’ve both been holding back.

When our lips finally meet, it’s a delicate, exploratory touch—soft and hesitant, as if we’re both savoring the moment of first contact. His lips are warm and tender against mine, sending a rush of sensation that makes my heart skip a beat. The kiss deepens slowly, becoming more passionate but still gentle, as if we are both savoring the newness of the moment.

His hands move to cup my face, holding me gently but firmly, as if anchoring us both in this moment. I respond, my hands resting on his shoulders, feeling the tension and warmth of his body. The kiss becomes a dance of give-and-take, each movement smooth and synchronized.

Suddenly, Yoongi’s hands slide down from my face to my waist, pulling me closer against him. The intensity of the kiss increases, and a soft moan escapes my lips as his tongue brushes against mine, teasing and exploring. I can feel the heat radiating off him, the firmness of his chest against mine, and it sends a shiver of excitement through my body.

I run my fingers through his hair, pulling him even closer, the kiss growing more fervent. His hands roam my back, tracing patterns that make my skin tingle with anticipation. Every touch, every brush of his lips feels electric, and I’m completely lost in the sensation, in him.

We finally break apart, gasping for breath, our foreheads resting against each other. Yoongi’s eyes are dark with desire, his breathing ragged. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admits softly, his voice husky with emotion.

I nod, my heart pounding. “Me too,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of my racing heartbeat.

He smiles, a soft, genuine smile that makes my heart flutter. “I should go now. It’s late, and you need to get some rest. You’re definitely going to need some coffee tomorrow.”

I manage a small laugh, still feeling the aftershocks of our kiss. “Yeah, you’re right. Thank you, for getting us back here.”

He gives me one last, lingering look before stepping towards the door. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” I reply, watching him leave. The door closes behind him, and I’m left alone in the quiet apartment, feeling a mixture of exhilaration and nervous anticipation for what comes next.

I head back to my room, feeling completely sober now, the kiss still fresh on my lips. He’s right. I will definitely need that coffee tomorrow.

The sharp light of morning filters through the thin curtains, turning my small bedroom into a bright, albeit blurry, reality. My head is pounding with the remnants of last night’s revelry, and I feel a dull ache behind my eyes. I groan and stretch, hoping to shake off the fog that lingers from too many drinks.

I roll over to check my phone, squinting at the screen as I fumble with the brightness. The messages from Jungkook, sent in the group chat, catches my attention first, asking if we all made it back safely. Yoongi’s reply—a simple thumbs-up.

God. Yoongi. Did I actually kiss him last night? The reality of what happened last night comes crashing back. My heart skips a beat as I remember the kiss, the heat of his lips against mine, and the surge of feelings that accompanied it. The warmth of Yoongi’s touch, the intensity in his eyes—it all feels so vivid and real, despite the haze of alcohol that clearly clouded my judgment.

I sit up, shaking my head to clear the lingering grogginess. My fingers instinctively brush over my lips, still tingling from the kiss. Was it a mistake? Was it something real? The confusion and anxiety settle in as I replay the moments leading up to that kiss in my mind. The way Yoongi had looked at me, how our lips had met, the way his touch had felt.

I stumble out of bed, trying to piece together the fragments of the previous night. The sun’s rays are harsh against my eyes, magnifying the headache that pulses with each heartbeat. As I pad across the room, my reflection in the mirror catches my eye. My hair is a mess, and I look as disheveled as I feel. I reach for my phone again, scrolling through the messages to see if there’s any sign of further communication from him. But there’s nothing new.

I head to the kitchen, hoping that a strong cup of coffee will help me clear my head. The ritual of brewing coffee is a small comfort amidst the turmoil. As the aroma fills the kitchen, no matter how hard I try, my mind keeps returning to the kiss.

The way Yoongi’s lips had felt on mine was more than just a normal kiss— Had it been just the alcohol talking? Or was there something real beneath the surface? I keep replaying the moment in my head, his warm breath against my cheek, the way his fingers had cradled my face. But Gabi had seen him with Eli, not long before. 

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions inside me. I need to talk to Yoongi, but how do I even begin with a conversation like that? What if he sees it as just a mistake, or worse, what if he regrets it? Maybe he was drunk too and might not even remember last night. 

The coffee brews slowly, giving me time to gather my thoughts. I decide to take a shower, hoping that the refreshing feel of water will help me clear my mind. As I let the hot water cascade over me, I try to focus on the present, on the routine of getting ready for the day. 

Wrapped in a towel, I check my phone again. The lack of new messages from Yoongi only heightens my anxiety. I wonder if he’s also been thinking about what happened, or if he’s already moved past it. The uncertainty is eating at me.

“Hey, thanks for last night. I was wondering if you are free later? Thought we should talk”

I hit send and put my phone down. Now, it’s a matter of waiting for his response. I hear commotion on the living room as Jimin starts to come back to himself. I prepare an extra cup of coffe and head to the living room. I drop onto the couch next to Jimin, who’s already wincing at the strong aroma of coffee. He looks as rough as I feel—his hair sticking out in odd angles, and the dark circles under his eyes making him look like he’s been through a battle.

 “Man I feel bad if you feel like how you look” Jimin grumbles, his eyes half-shut as he reaches for the coffee I’d prepared for him.

“If I were you, I’d keep quiet. You don’t look much better yourself,” I reply, trying to match his attempt at humor with my own. I lean back against the cushions, feeling the slight comfort of the soft fabric against my tired body.

Jimin takes a slow sip from his cup, grimacing as the bitter taste hits his tongue. “Ugh, I don’t even remember getting home last night. Was it really as crazy as it felt?”

“It was a pretty intense night,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual. I don’t mention the kiss, not really sure why. I blame the hungover I’m nursing. “We all made it back somehow. Gabi’s still asleep in her room.”

Jimin nods, his gaze distant as he tries to piece together fragments of the previous night. “Yeah, I remember bits and pieces. I think I saw Yoongi...”

The mention of Yoongi makes my heart race a little faster. I try to push away the nervousness and focus on Jimin’s recovery from his hangover. “Yeah, Yoongi was a real lifesaver. He helped get us home and made sure everyone was okay.”

“Oh, nice of him,” Jimin replies, his voice a bit clearer now. 

I manage a small smile and nod, though my thoughts are still consumed by the kiss and the uncertainty of where things stand between Yoongi and me. 

The sound of my phone buzzing interrupts the quiet moment. I reach for it, my heart skipping a beat as I see Yoongi’s name on the screen. I quickly open the message, hoping for some clarity.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking about last night too. I’m free this afternoon. How about we meet up and talk?”

A mix of relief and anxiety floods over me. He wants to meet and talk—this is my chance to understand what really happened between us. I take a deep breath and compose my reply.

Sounds good. How about we meet at that? I’ll see you there around 3?

I send the message and set my phone aside, feeling a slight tremor of nerves in my stomach. Meeting up with Yoongi will bring everything out into the open. I glance at Jimin, who’s now scrolling through his phone and looking slightly more awake.

“Hey, I’m heading out this afternoon to meet up with Yoongi,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “Do you think you’ll be up for a little while? Maybe we can catch up after I get back?”

Jimin nods, managing a weak smile. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just need to get through this coffee and maybe a nap. You go ahead. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” I say, feeling a touch of gratitude. “let me know if you need anything else”

I’m not surprise that we were walking up late, way past noon. I get ready, throwing some casual clothes and leave the appartment, taking my time to reach the café. The sunlight feeling oddly warm and bright as I head towards the café. The crisp air helps clear my mind a little, though the anxiety about the upcoming conversation with Yoongi lingers. I keep replaying the kiss in my mind, trying to decipher its meaning.

When I finally reach the café, I find a quiet corner table and settle in, hoping that the ambiance and the soothing music will help calm my nerves. I order a drink and wait, my thoughts a whirlwind of anticipation. 

Yoongi arrives right on time, looking casual but put-together. He spots me and gives a small wave as he walks over, looking not at all bothered by anything. Why do I have a feeling this might go south?

“Hey,” he says as he approaches, taking a seat across from me. “Thanks for meeting up.”

“Of course,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. “I thought it was important we talk.”

We both sit in silence for a moment, the weight of the kiss hanging between us. Finally, Yoongi breaks the silence, his voice low and sincere.

“I’ve been thinking about last night a lot,” he starts, looking directly into my eyes. “I really felt something when we kissed,” he had said, and I could see the sincerity in his eyes. But then, he had added, “But I’m not looking for anything serious right now. So I would appreciate if we could keep it low what happened.”

Yoongi’s words hang in the air, and for a moment, the world around me seems to blur. The warm café, the chatter of other patrons, the gentle hum of the coffee machine—all fade as I focus on the unexpected turn in his confession

His expression is a mix of apprehension and regret, as if he’s bracing himself for my reaction. I sit there, trying to process the weight of his words. The initial rush of relief I felt when I saw his message this morning feels like a distant memory. The knot in my stomach tightens as I grapple with the reality of what he’s saying.

I’m still silent, struggling to articulate my thoughts. The brief silence feels interminable, filled with the noise of my own racing heartbeat and the hum of the café around us. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves.

“I’m ok with that.” I try to brush it off even though the only thing in my mind was that damn kiss. He still seems tense. “I mean it was just a moment of…intensity. You just want to forget what happened?” I ask him

Yoongi’s gaze drops to his hands, fidgeting with the edge of the napkin on the table. “Not exactly forget. More like…keep it as a moment that happened between us, but not let it change things or complicate what we have right now.”

I nod slowly, the disappointment settling heavily in my chest. “I understand. I guess I should’ve expected something like this. I mean, we were both drunk”

We sit in silence for a moment, the initial tension easing slightly as we both process the conversation. Yoongi takes a sip of his coffee, and I try to find solace in the soothing ambiance of the café.

Finally, I’m the one to break the silence. “Do you want to talk about something else? Or maybe just…hang out for a bit?”

“Uh, actually I’m a bit busy today. Maybe another day?”

I nod, trying not show the dissapointment that is brewing inside. 

“Yup. Thanks for the talk today!” I say to him and he quickly finishes his drink and gets ready to leave.

Yoongi finishes his coffee quickly and stands up, his movements a little too eager as if he’s anxious to leave. He offers me a quick, somewhat awkward smile before gathering his things.

“Thanks for being chill about it,” he says, his voice filled with genuine relief. “I’ll text you later!”

I manage a small, forced smile in return. “Yup. Thanks for the talk today!” I watch him as he heads out, the door chiming softly behind him. The café feels emptier now, the absence of his presence leaving a noticeable gap.

As the door closes, the reality of our conversation settles heavily in my chest. I stare down at the remnants of my coffee, the once comforting aroma now a bitter reminder of our discussion. The weight of his words, the certainty of his boundaries, and the palpable sense of finality hang around me like a shroud.

The quiet of the café feels almost oppressive now, the gentle murmur of conversations and the clinking of cups a distant background noise. I glance around, feeling disconnected from the world outside, lost in the aftermath of our conversation.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my swirling emotions. I had hoped for more clarity, a resolution that would either move us forward or let me put the past behind me. Instead, I’m left with an uneasy acceptance of the boundaries Yoongi has set. It feels like a door closing softly, leaving me in a limbo between hope and resignation.

With a sigh, I gather my things and stand up, taking one last look around the café before heading out. The sunlight outside feels warm and bright, but it does little to chase away the lingering shadows in my mind. Previous ✧ Next

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[starrylothcat]

hello friend!

could i request something angsty with comfort with Echo during TCW? maybe it's a citadel fix it where he went dark with no warning, and the two of you finally meet again when you're just about to leave to start new again.

Promise Kept

Echo x Reader One-Shot

Summary: You’re about to move on, leaving Coruscant and memories of Echo behind. A knock on your door changes everything.

Warnings: Post-Skako Minor Echo. Angst, sadness, insecurities. Comfort. Kissing. Happy/Bittersweet ending. 2,000ish words.

Author’s Note: Ahhh Echo…my sweet Echo! Thank you for this prompt @toomanybandstocare I’ve been wanting to write something about Echo for awhile. He deserves the world. ❤️ I hope you like it and thanks for reading!

Your apartment was almost empty. Moving containers were neatly stacked at the front door, with only a few personal items left to pack before your flight off-world two days from now.

It was time to move on.

Your apartment, this city, this planet, they all held too many ghosts.

Every morning when your eyes opened, there was hope he was still alive, that he was in bed next to you, ready to kiss your tears away.

Reality wasn’t far behind, always crashing over you when that split-second hope was ripped away, realizing you were alone and that he was gone. Dead.

You knew it was cowardly to run away, but your heart was heavy, your mind distracted by loss. You knew if you stayed on Coruscant any longer, you’d fade away, caught up in the past and what could have been.

A few weeks ago you requested a job transfer to a remote Republic outpost on a planet composed of small farming villages. The Separatists had recently razed the planet for natural resources, and they were desperate for help. You were assigned to a team dedicated to rebuilding and getting the community back on its feet.

Your job was how you met Echo, his squad assigned to you near the beginning of the war. You had supported The Republic with humanitarian aid, facilitating the setting up of refugee camps on the front lines. Your paths continued to cross, whether it was on the battlefield or on Coruscant, becoming closer each time. You were drawn to one another’s dedication to fighting for what was just, and helping those who couldn’t help themselves.

Eventually, you found yourself in his arms, his soft lips pressing to yours in an unsure first kiss, not knowing where this would lead the two of you. You continued to find one another though, your relationship and love growing stronger each time you could be together.

You lifted the last box of your belongings, setting it by the door as a lump grew in your throat. Tears clouded your vision as you remembered the last time you saw Echo, a memory that replayed in your mind every waking moment. It was what you thought of as you opened your eyes each morning, and the last thought you had before falling into a restless sleep, tears wetting your pillow.

Echo lay with you in your bed, holding you against him. The sun just coming up, light peeking through the curtains of your bedroom. Neither of you got much sleep the previous night, not wanting to waste one moment together.

Echo whispered sweet nothings in your ear as his warm hands roamed your body, his lips moving to leave featherlight kisses on your cheeks and forehead.

“I love you, mesh’la. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

You buried your face into his neck, hearing his gentle words, feeling his heartbeat against yours. You traced your hands over his taught muscle, having already memorized every dip and curve on his body.

“I love you, too.” You kissed him deeply, wishing you had more time. Echo had to leave soon, off to join General Kenobi and Skywalker to rescue a kidnapped Jedi.

“I’ll hold you to that promise, soldier.” You murmured, pulling your lips away from his always soft ones.

Echo nudged his nose against yours, closing his eyes. “I never break my promises.”

Echo let himself relax, getting lost in you. He wondered how he was so lucky to have you. Out of all the men in the Galaxy, out of all the men that shared his exact genetic makeup, you chose him.

At first, he didn’t know why.

You worked alongside ritzy Coruscant politicians and senators that could offer you stability and a real future. He was just another soldier, born to serve and fight, not knowing if his next mission will be his last. But he found you in his arms over and over again, and every time it was harder for him to let you go.

The regulations he had come to know by heart never prepared him for this.

You understood him, saw him for more than just a soldier, another face in millions. You made him think of a future where you could be together, where you could rest. It inspired him to fight harder.

“You’re pouting.” You chuckled, noticing Echo was lost in his thoughts.

He glanced at you, his pout turning into a small smile. “I never pout.”

You hummed as you brought him in for another long, loving kiss. “I’ll be waiting for you, always. You know that, right?” You whispered, staring into his honeyed as they tenderly gazed back at you.

“And I’ll come back to you, always.”

You took in a shaking breath, wiping tears from your face. You couldn’t wait to get off this planet to start anew, hoping with time, these memories would fade and you could heal, just a little bit.

You sat down on a small chair, one of the last remaining pieces of furniture in your apartment. You looked out the window, watching speeders and ships fly by, the sun beginning to set over the endless city.

A faint tap interrupted your thoughts, coming from your front door.

At first, you thought it was something outside, or someone knocking on a door down the hall. You turned your head toward the sound as a louder knock solidified the fact it was indeed coming from the other side.

You stood up, slowly striding over as another knock sounded.

“Hello?” You called. You weren’t expecting anyone.

There was a moment of silence.

“Hello?” You called again, wondering if it was just your imagination.

A voice, muffled and uncertain, uttered your name from behind the door.

The voice was familiar, a gentle cadence that could only belong to one person.

One person who was supposed to be dead.

Someone who shouldn’t be standing on the other side of your door.

You felt like the air was sucked right out of your lungs, immediately recognizing the voice.

You were trying to breathe, your voice barely a whisper, your chest feeling like it was about to collapse in on itself.

“E-Echo?”

You felt nauseous, wondering if this was a sick joke. Was this a nightmare, did you fall asleep in the chair? Will you open the door, and no one will be there?

Your stomach churned as you heard your name again, faint and insecure.

Bile rose in your throat, and blood rushed in your ears.

“Open the door, mesh’la. It’s me.”

Your hand shook as it hovered over the button, not knowing if you wanted to open the door or not.

You bit down on the side of your cheek, tasting blood as you tried to discern what was reality, seeing if you were indeed trapped in a nightmare.

You leaned against the door to steady yourself, inhaling ragged breaths. A million thoughts raced through your head, a million emotions bubbling to the surface as your hand slammed the button to open the door. You gripped the side of the doorframe to stop yourself from falling to the ground.

Whoever stood there, whether it was a delusion, a trick, or a hallucination, was wearing his armor, his helmet.

You couldn’t speak, your throat feeling like it was closing up.

Echo was standing there in front of you. Your legs shook as you stumbled backward, still not believing what you were seeing.

“E-Echo?” His name was a choked sob as he gingerly stepped into your apartment. You continued to stumble backward, your head spinning as you backed into a wall.

“It’s me…” His voice was trembling through his helmet. “I…I wasn’t sure if I should message you or…I figured coming in person was best…I’m here, mesh’la. I’m sorry, I can try to explain…”

You couldn’t formulate words, your body was in shock. Echo didn’t approach you further, seeing your distress. “Echo…I don’t understand…you were dead…they told me and…I…” Your vision was going blurry with tears, trying to process what was happening.

“T-take off your helmet, I need to see you.”

Echo nodded, swallowing thickly.

This is what he feared most.

Not you being angry at him showing up at your door, saying he’s alive after all this time. Not you having moved on, maybe even with a different man.

It was the look of disgust you would have when you saw him, what they did to him. Nonetheless, he had to come to see you, you deserved to know that he was alive, and he had to know that you were okay.

Echo raised his arms toward his helmet, hesitating. This is when you noticed he was missing his arm, and the cybernetics in his legs. “I’m…different.” He uttered, seeing you staring. “I’m not the same.”

“Please…Echo…” You took a step closer to him, your legs still shaking, tears dripping down your cheeks. “I need to see you. I don’t care.”

You watched as his shoulders fell, still hesitating to take off his bucket, preparing himself for the worst. He sighed, sliding it off his head, revealing his shaved head and ports in his skull. You were momentarily shocked at his sullen and pale appearance, not from disgust or fear, but from what he must have been through to come back to you.

These were all questions for later.

He looked different, yes. But it was undeniably him based on the look in his eyes. Maker, his eyes. Those eyes that used to look at you with so much fondness, loyalty, and love. Now they were swimming with sadness, fear, and uncertainty.

It was him, there was no doubt in your mind.

You launched yourself at him, Echo not knowing if you were coming at him for an attack or an embrace. Surprising him, it was the latter. You swung your arms around his neck, pulling him into you, sobbing his name over and over into his chest. His helmet clattered to the ground at the shock and impact of your embrace.

Too many emotions were threatening to explode out of you. Happiness, disbelief, shock, anger, everything. All you could do was cry. You spent so long thinking he was dead, your grief almost swallowing you alive every day. But he was here, breathing, real.

Your legs were weak again, desperately hanging on to him. Echo’s arm came around you, holding you in place, not knowing if he even deserved to touch you, keeping his scomp arm hanging at his side.

You stayed like that for a while, gripping him tightly, letting everything you’ve been keeping in for so long out, your body heaving with every sob of his name. He rested his chin on your head, wanting to say so much, tell you everything, but it was caught in his throat. He felt his tears swell at the corner of his eyes, hearing your cries knowing the torment you must have been carrying around with you since he was gone. He felt guilty.

Finally, you had no more tears left to cry. You steadied your breath, pulling away from his chest, looking up at him. He refused to meet your gaze, his expression grim.

“Echo, look at me.”

“I’m not who I used to be.” Echo’s voice was low. “I understand if you don’t-“

You didn't let him finish, crashing your lips against his, gripping the back of his head, putting everything you had into this kiss. All the sadness and loneliness lifting away from you, feeling his lips once again, hearing his voice. The same soft lips from your memories, what you dreamed about every single night.

Echo melted at your intense kiss, his insecurities forgotten momentarily as he felt your body against his, something real and whole. He hadn’t stopped thinking about you ever since he was torn from the machines, wondering if you’d still want him, if he could even find you.

You pulled away, gasping, your face still wet from the tears. You kissed him again, this time all over his cheeks, his eyes, his forehead, everywhere you could get your lips. You wanted to show him that you still loved him, you didn’t care if he was different. He was still Echo, the man you loved.

His body was shaking against yours, wanting to touch you, show you how much he missed you. He couldn’t for fear of hurting you, waiting for you to recoil once you realized what he had become.

Broken. Unworthy. More machine than man.

“Echo, you’re still you. You’re alive.” You whispered between kisses. “Whatever happened…I’m just glad you’re with me. I love you no matter what.”

Now it was his turn to hold on to you tightly, wrapping both his arms around you, careful not to rib you with his scomp. He was still getting used to his new body.

“I love you.” He whispered, his voice trembling. “I never stopped loving you.” He buried his face into your hair, inhaling your fragrance. “You kept your promise.” You muttered. “You came back to me.” You looked up at him, gently caressing the side of his face. A faint smile ghosted at his lips, his expression softening, realizing you might not run away from him, after all.

“I told you I’d come back to you.” He leaned down toward you, pressing his forehead against yours, not wanting to let you go. “I never stopped loving you either, Echo.” He squeezed you tighter as you both stood there, embracing one another, your broken hearts healing with every passing second.

“You’re leaving.” He spoke finally, your empty apartment hadn’t gone unnoticed by him.

“I am…yeah. I thought…I had nothing left here.”

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could muster. “That I put you through this…”

“Echo…you don’t need to apologize for anything.” You leaned back from him, nodding toward your bedroom. “Lay down with me?” Echo felt panic rise his chest. The thought of being intimate with you and exposing his body was too much, even though he desperately wanted you.

You saw the panic in his eyes. “No! Not like that. I just want to…be with you. Is that okay?” Echo nodded, feeling relieved. He followed you into the bedroom. A familiar feeling washed over him, remembering the nights he would stay over. Sharing kisses, whispering loving confessions under the sheets, always wishing you had more time. It seemed like a lifetime ago. It was almost surreal, being back here, with you.

The room was devoid of all your personal belongings now, just the bed in the middle of the room. Things were going to be different from here on out, but maybe it was for the best. It was time for both of you to move on, together.

You sat down at the edge of the bed, Echo sitting next to you. You took his hand, entwining it with yours. He leaned against you, feeling the warmth of your hand on his, his heart threatening to explode.

You were still the same kind, gentle person you always were. The way you gazed at him…it was like nothing had changed. He felt whole. The anxiety in his chest lessened, becoming aware that you didn’t care how he looked. Echo leaned in, giving you a chaste kiss. “You’re leaving too, aren’t you?” You whispered against his lips.

He nodded. “There’s a squad…I’m heading out with soon.” Echo replied. You knew he couldn’t quit the soldier lifestyle, just like he knew you couldn't quit helping those in need. It was who you were, and why you loved one another. You laid backward, bringing Echo with you. You cuddled up against his side, your hand still in his. You both had so much you wanted to say, but there was time for that later. For now, you just wanted to hold one another.

“I’ll still keep my promise.” Echo mumbled against you, squeezing your hand. “I’ll always come back to you, mesh’la. Always.”

@wanderer-six

[sylo-writes-stuff]

Sleepless nights

Syzoth × reader

|| Introduction || Masterlist || Simp Rants ||

Cw: insomnia, angst, mental breakdown?, over thinking , comfort, nb reader, sleepy!Syzoth, tired!reader, insecurity, possibly ooc, no use of y/n

Summary: Syzoth helps you with your insomnia^^

A/n: welp as of posting this it's 8:15am I started writhing this at like 5am. Um safe to say this was pretty much what I was going through. Though I irl do not plan on sleeping I already fucked up my sleep schedule as it is. Also I love this man so much he's so ahhh bark bark. Anyways hope you enjoy this^^ requests are open don't be shy to request/ask for specific characters

Word count: 1,075

You've been unable to sleep at night for the past couple of weeks now. Staying up way past the time you said you would and Syzoth has noticed your routine, the way the bed shifts as you stir around the bed trying to get comfortable but you eventually sit up and stay like that for hours. You lay down in bed having your mind set on sleeping, body aching, eyes tired, ready for sleep, body feeling heavy, but your mind is racing. You say you're going to sleep and you want to your exhausted. But your mind won't let you, suddenly it's the best time to wonder what you'll eat for dinner. But then your mind shifts to different thoughts.

Much more emotional thoughts you had pushed to tomorrow you, and that you is now. You suddenly question why you don't know the answer to some simple question your friend asked. Like what you want for Christmas. Suddenly your mind looks deeper into that question. Why can you really not answer that question? I mean it's a simple one you could ask for something like socks you've needed socks for a while. But no your mind draws blanks whenever it's brought up. Why don't you know what you want? 'Maybe it's because you've never gotten what you've wanted' your mind thinks 'because you don't get what you want you don't have expectations for anything' your mind races with emotions. Your eyes sting with that familiar feeling of soon to come tears. 'You've never gotten what you've asked for no matter how easily achievable it is, so the only thing you can ask to have is to be understood and even that seems-' your thoughts are cut off as you feel a hand.

You jump slightly at the feeling "Why are you still up love?" He asks in a raspy voice much more raspy than his usual voice, almost going out due to the sleep in it. You turn to face him "Oh did I wake you? Ah I'm so sorry" you say as you hold his hand. You give him a tired smile reassuring him, but he isn't falling for it. "How much longer are you gonna go like this?" He asks leaning on his side facing you "It's been going on for weeks now, I know you're not ok. What's on your mind? " he asks looking at you with those emerald eyes of his reading you like a book.

You open your mouth to tell him your fine, but your words get stuck in your throat. Your reassuring smile turning into a frown quickly, you can't fight the overwhelming feelings. The knot in your throat builds up, you feel like you can't speak as if your words can't express your true feelings. Sadness washes over you. You get the overwhelming feeling to cry, it all crashes on you. He quickly sits up and holds you, bringing you close to his own body almost engulfing you with his own. He hushes you rubbing your back and kisses your neck, face, and anywhere he can. "You don't have to tell me now if you don't want to" he says in a hushed tone. "Cry it out if you need to" and with that you do. You cry, you bury your face in the crook of his neck. You sniffle and hic and let out incomprehensive words. You try to explain yourself through your cries but it's useless.

"It's okay I'm here, let it all out" his reassuring words make you cry even more. It's him, it's him who makes you feel understood, he who listens to you, he who is there for you no matter what. You hug him tightly, with your whole body. You let out your sobs, all your bottle up emotions, you cry harder than you have before. Harder than the silent cries you've been letting out the past few weeks. Your insecurities are pushed to the side as he reassures everything you've been so overwhelmed by. He knew the words you needed to hear. He knew exactly what to say.

As your crying stops you move the slightest away from him to wipe your face, and his shoulder. "Heh looks like I made a mess" you joke quietly as you compose yourself. You continue sniffling as you look up at him much more stable than you were before. You kiss the underside of his chin. You smile softly as you look into his eyes, he leans down to kiss you on the lips. "Thank you" you say sniffling a few more times, he tilts his head in slight confusion "What do you mean by that?" he asks rhetorocally as he continues "It's the least I could do my heart, but you don't have to talk about it now if you don't want to" he smiles softly as he kisses your cheek pulling you in for another hug. Your body much more hotter than his due to all your emotions rushing through your body. You hug him back yet again, he rubs reassuring circles into your back as you bask in the feeling of him. He lays back and pulls you on top of him. Your ear right over his heart. He continues rubbing circles on your back as you both lay in silence. His heartbeat, his calm breaths, and his calming scent lulls you to sleep. The crying also adding to that. "You're what I want for Christmas" you mumble as you doze off, a silent chuckle escapes his lips as he hears your words. A few minutes after you fall asleep, making sure you're asleep he finally closes his eyes as well whispering a quiet "I love you" as he does so.

~---------------------bonus---------------------~

As you wake up in the morning the sun shining brightly through the curtains. You quickly sit up looking around the room and out the window "fuck hoe long did I sleep for?" you ask yourself. You jump as you hear Syzoths voice coming out from the bathroom, he walks towards you freshly out the shower. "You slept enough dear don't worry about it" he says rufflinfs his hair with the towel to try it off. You look at the clock and your eyes widen "Syzoth it's 5:30! Pm!... P!M! That's like half the day gone! " you say in total shock "Why did you let me sleep so long?! " you ask quickly getting up and looking for clothes to put on. "I-I have stuff to do, I'm meeting up with my friends later, and then I have to go to work and and" you ramble off but he quickly cuts you off. "Woah woah calm down, your friend called about an hour ago to cancel, they has some personal things go do. And you don't work today hun, calm down." he says pushing you back down to the bed by your shoulders and places your clothes to the side. He kneed in front of you and looks into your eyes. "Today is about you ok? You've had way too much on your shoulders. You need to let me take some of that weight the same way you've done with me" he says and kisses you. "Today's a day of relaxation, no worries just the two of us ok?" You nod, your worries won't be bothering you for a while. Not as long as Syzoth is here to help you with it.

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