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killthe-illusionarydreams · 4 years

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Ashes To Ashes

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: ‘Please could you write a Fred Weasley imagine where you’re inside the burrow when Bellatrix sets it on fire and Fred runs in to get you out?? Thank you, I’m really loving you writing!’ For anonymous

Ps- i havent read the books or seen the movies in a while so I kinda went w the time it was fleur & bills wedding & intergrated it w that, sorry if its not what u wanted but I did write Bellatrix’s attack in x

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Today was the big day. For today was the the day where Fleur & Bill were finally to be wed. For their celebration to erase war from anyones thoughts, today they were just two kids in love, not undercover Order Workers. Today they were simply girl & boy.

“Oi Y/N hurry up, Fleur’s asking for you” Ginny shouts practically breathless as she runs past your room, trying to find Hermione for the bride.

You pick up the gorgeous bouqet that earlier today you picked up from the florist for the woman and made your way downstairs into the living room. As you take a closer look, you notice something is off. Fleur was standing rigidly still, looking in the mirror unblinking.

“Fleur, darling, are you alright?”

The woman remained silent, Y/N had no idea what to do, she’d never seen her friend so paniced, so immobile. Ever since Y/N’s sixth year (after the Triwizard Tournament) the two kept in contact, maintaining a solid friendship with the other, who wouldve known that years later Fleur would join the family that you had already been apart of.

“Its okay to be nervous.” You sit beside the Frenchwoman “Just talk through it” grabbing her hand you pull her down to sit beside you.

“It’z all so scary Y/N. I love Bill, I really do, but what if he realises he doesnt feel the same about me and leaves me there?” She faces you, eyes glossed over

That caused you to frowm slightly “Bill loves you more than he loves life itself Fleaur, everybody knows that he’d do anything for you just to see you happy- not many can say that they have a person like that.” You smile lightly, thinking about your person. “You constantly say how much you love him, so if you stil feel that for him, theres no need to be scared of getting married-These are the normal pre wedding doubts, none of them are true. Besides, I’m sure if Bill tried to run away from such a gorgeous and talented person as you, Molly would raise havoc and go to the ends of the earth to get him back.”

Fleur looks up at you, smiling, but with stray tears going down her face “Thank you Y/N” she throws herself forward and hugs you “It’s just a big step & I’ve been so emotional lately because of-“ she hesitates

A look of realisation dawns on you and you beam, hugging her once more but tighter “You’re joking? Congratulations!” You give her a peck on the cheek “Does Bill know?” You queried as she shook her head

“Non, I only confirmed it a week ago. Please dont tell anyone Y/N.” She looks at you with pleading eyes and you vigorously nod

“Of course. I wont say a thing, this is your secret. But how about we start getting ready for your wedding hmm.”

As Y/N started to do Fleurs makeup, Hermione rushed in with the wedding dress that her and Molly had been making final adjustments to, Ginny was running around frantically trying to get all the guests in the right places and seats. Once commisioning your help to shout at a group of loiterers to leave the premises because they wouldnt listen to the red head girl. All in all, after many hours, Fleaur was ready.

“You look gorgeous.” Gabrielle beamed at her sister

“Stunning.”

“Ethereal.”

“I might just steal you from Bill” you wink and cause her to laugh and blow you a kiss “I’ll go get everyone ready, you still have plenty of time to relax.” Handing Gabrielle the bouqet, you rush out of the room, which proved to be quite difficult in heels. But bearing through the pain, you get outside and see rows and rows of the fragile golden chairs set on either side of the long purple carpet. The supporting poles to the gazeebo top were entwined with gorgeous white and gold flowers. As you look to where there was supposed to be an enormous bunch of balloons, you frown to see it bare.

“George!” You shout getting his attention “Wheres Fred? You were supposed to the balloons up ages-“ you feel strong arms pick you up and spin you around, making you let out a shriek of surprise, thankfully not loud enough to get the attention of the others

“I’m here my love, disposable at your command.” He purrs into your ear, sending chills down your spine

“Put me down asshole” you laugh and turn to face him, before you could manage to say anything you were taken aback at how he looked. “You got a haircut.” You stated plainly and ran a hand through his hair as he put his arms around your waist.

“Correction, George cut my hair when I wasnt paying attention so ‘people would be able to tell the difference between us’” he wrinkled his nose

You stare at him, dumbstruck “As if the hole on the side of his head wasnt enough.” Fred laughs and says thats what he said “I like it, it suits you.”

Fred grins and kisses you, “Lets face it Y/N you like anything when its to do with me.”

You roll your eyes and hum in agreement “Thats because I love you Fred. But I will seriously consider breaking up with you if you dont get the balloons up as you promised.”

Fred gives you a small peck & jumps back from you “I’m on it!” and runs over towards his brother to finally do what he had to. You smile at him, reminiscing at how you managed to fall in love with such an idiotic man, yet you could never wish for more. Fred Weasley was truly perfect.

Shaking your head you turn back to the guests that were not where they were supposed to be before shouting “Get to your seats and away from the food please! Thats for after the ceremony!” You swat their hands before adding “If you dont know where youre supposed to be, go to Hermione and Molly, they will tell you.” You motion to the pair before walking around to make last minute adjustments.

The wedding ceremony went beautifully, Fleur was walked down with her bridesmaids: Gabrielle & Ginny. When in sight, she rendered everyone breathless, she was ethereal, the most gorgeous a person could possibly look. Molly teared up from the get go at the sight of her eldest marrying, many more joined in when they said their vows. You could not believe that the day of your friends wedding had finally arrived. Throughout the entire sitting down portion of the ceremony, Fred was holding your hand and rubbing circles on it, an assurance that through everything you went through- you were still together- still alive.

The loud music was ringing through the field, dancing bodies surrounded you, but you paid them no mind, your main focus on Fred.

“Did I tell you how gorgeous you look Y/N?”

You laugh lightly as you sway to the beat “No, I must’ve missed it the other ten times you said it”

“Well you do, absolutely bewitching, are you sure you didnt use a love poition on me? I never knew feeling this was possible.” He jokes as he spins you

“Must be my natural charm and charisma that got you so captured Fred.”

“Must be.” He mutters softly looking into your eyes. Fred was completely besotted by you, more than anyone had ever seen him be, he just knew that Y/N was perfect. The way that she’d light up any room she walked in, the way that she’d never back down from a challenge, and just simply how she made him feel. Dear Merlin he loved the girl. “After this do you fancy going away for a bit?”

You look at him sceptically “Planning out your murderous fantasies are we?”

He laughs and shakes his head “You’re impossible. No, since the shops closed I thought we could go away somewhere before everything with the war kicks off, I want as much time with you as I can get.”

“Oh” you forgot that the wizarding world was on the brink of war “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. But if you sneak George along i swear to Merlin I will live through my murderous fantasy & kill the pair of you.”

Fred chuckles again, before nodding “Promise, no George. I think he got an eyefull when he barged into our room without knocking.”

“Serves him right.” You mumble “I told him on multiple occasions to knock.”

The rest of the song died down and you stayed in Freds arms for a moment, before he was being wisked away to dance with Aunt Muriel, he held an awfully sour look as you giggled when she hounded on him to straighten his back, then saying that he was too tall.

“I’m a bit cold, I’ll go get a jacket then I’ll be right back” Y/N kissed his cheek & left to get back inside the burrow. Thinking nothing of it, she poured herself another drink, smiling to herself at how Fred would have to have another dance with Muriel. What an awful woman.

Unbeknown to the girl, a silver patronus intruded on the celebration to announce grave news. “The Ministary has fallen. The Minister of magic is dead. They are coming. They are coming.” Everyone scrabled to find their loved ones, to make sure that they were safe, but before Fred even had the chance to look for Y/N, everything burst into havoc. The gazeebo was now engulfed in flames, Death Eaters showing up everywhere to curse them.

“Y/N!” Fred shouted, frantically looking around for the girl “Y/N!”

He turned around and was greeted by a paniced Mr Weasley “Theres not much time Fred, I dont know where she is, you need to get to safety and leave. Now!”

Fred ignored his fathers protests and ran, dodging various spells being shot from either side. He had to find you, he had to know you were safe.

An abrupt crash jolts you back into reality, you get up to run and go outside but with a sudden ‘whoosh’ and black smoke- two Death Eaters appear infront of you.

“Shit.” You mumble & grab your wand, quickly dodging their spells you manage to knock one out & try to deal with the other. “You’re quite persistant-“ blue sparks shoot from your wand, the figure ran upstairs & you follow.

“And you’re associated with mud-blood scum!” A flash of green emerged from their wand that narrowly missed you, you grin

“You missed.” You kick a chair at the figure, momentarily distracting them to cast a spell “Stupefy! Petrificus totalus!” As the figure was knocked out & bound together, you walk over and spit out “Get a life, prick” snapping their wand in two.

In the middle of your fight, you had not noticed that the commotion outside had turned to an arsonists playground. looking through the window you call for Fred, hearing no response your heart stops, you leave the room & try to get down the stairs but now they were already engulfed by flames.

“Oh shit” you panic and shoot spells at it to stop the fire from spreading, but to no avail, it only got worse. Smoke was now clouding your vision, realising that if you were not to jump down you’d perish in this fire. Letting out a short breath, you hype yourself up for the leap of your life “You can do it Y/N. Come on” violetly coughing, you jump. Unfortunately landing a fair few stairs too high. Unbearable pain shoots up through your leg & you cry out in pain.

Sinking to the floor you couldnt even move, the pain in your arm and leg restricting you. This was it, this would be how you die. All alone, with no one to help you, no one to save you. In a burning house. Yet the only thought racing through your mind was ‘Is Fred safe’. Thankfully most of the fire was behind you, the staircase had completely gone up in flames however, the roof was begining to crumble down. A plank toppled down, narrowly missing you, but making the room next to you catch on fire.

As you were losing conciousness you hear a strained yell “Y/N!” You try to respond, but all that came out was a series of violent coughs “Y/N im coming, hang on!” You couldn’t see what was happening, i dont know if it was the thick cloud of smoke or the fact that you were breathing most of it in, but your vision blurred.

A faint figure emerged, breathless, trying to get through the flames & to you fast enough “Hey Y/N ive got you, im here.” You felt yourself being picked up & your body fell like a ragdoll. “Oh merlin dont die on me Y/N.” Was the last thing you heard before passing out.

The abrupt light and noise woke you up, yet you were unable to open your eyes, they were far too heavy for the little energy you had. Were you dead? Is this what death felt like?

“Stop pacing Fred, she’ll be fine.” You heard a voice say, however, unable to distinguish who it belonged to “shes a strong girl, the nurses said so.”

“Yeah they also said she’d wake up yesterday, so my apologies if I dont believe what they have to say.” He snapped

Fred. Oh yes, Fred. He came into the building to save you didnt he? So that answered your question of being dead. You were very much alive, but dear Merlin you were in unbearable pain.

“She’ll be up and about soon though? Her body was exhausted thats why shes sleeping so long right?” He continued, sounding unsure. Well if this is how they reacted to you passing out you wouldn’t want to know how theyd react if you died.

“And id appreciate it if I could sleep some more.” You croak out as you let your eyes open. Coming to face the whole clan of distressed red heads, Harry, Hermione & Fleur.

Fred snaps to face you and a look of relief washes over his features “Y/N” he whispers and rushes to your side hugging you “You’re okay. You’re alive. Thank Merlin.”

You try to chuckle, which abruptly turns into a wheze “I’m okay yeah, in a lot of pain but I’m fine.” Fred retreats from you, an apologetic look on his face.

“Come on kids lets give them some space.” Molly ushers everyone out of the room “I’m glad you’re okay Y/N” she sends you a smile and leaves the room for you and Fred to be alone.

Moments pass with Fred just looking at you with glassy eyes before he abruptly let out “You bloody scared me half to death!”

You motion for him to help you sit up “Oh I do apologise that me nearly burning in a fire scared you. I wasnt very happy about it either.”

Fred looks at you speachless, confused at how you can joke about it so soon. He remains quiet before letting out a big sigh and hanging his head into his lap “I thought I lost you.” He mumbles, barely loud enough for you to hear

“Hey, look at me.” You say and put his face into your left hand with the little energy you have “I’m okay, I’m alive. And so are you” he smiles faintly before you continue “Obviously as gorgeous as ever, so nothing irreversible happened.”

He laughs “Obviously.”

While in the room Fred filled you in on what happened, that after the Death Eaters showed up & they fought them off- Bellatrix Lestrange set fire to the burrow & he ran in to get you out. He told you that you passed out & that you had to be taken to St Mungos to treat your broken leg and the burn on your arm.

“The nurses said you were lucky to get out alive Y/N” he said lowly, not being able to bear the thought of your death.

“Im alive because of you Fred. Thank you.” You offer a weak smile “There were two Death Eaters in the house when it burned up-“

“Thats not on your concious to bear, Its on Bellatrix Lestrange.”

You nod, in all honesty you didnt feel bad that they perished in the fire- their downfall was their own undoing. But what was on your mind was the fire burn “When I’m better do you recon I’ll l have a cool badass scar?”

Fred shakes his head as he holds your hand, of course thats what Y/N is thinking about “‘course you will, It’ll become part of badass backstory.”

“Good” you mumble and close your eyes. After a long silence you relax back into your pillow, the sleeping draft & skelly-grow hitting you like a brick. You begin to mumble incoherent sentences

“Hey Freddie?”

He looks at your peaceful face, all calm against the pillow and responds “Yes my love?”

After a little pause of small mumbles, you ask “When I’m better, can we leave for our trip?”

“Whatever you want Y/N.” He smiles lightly & watches you drift off to sleep, hoping that ‘better’ would come along faster.

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Ahh okay hi! Omg this took so long to write, again sorry its not the actual bellatrix fire story, i jus forgot how it happened & when I remembered I wrote too much of it. <33

#slytherin #harry potter #hogwarts #hufflepuff #gryffindor #ravenclaw #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #draco malfoy #fred weasley x slytherin #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred and george #fred weasley x slytherin!reader #hermione granger #ron weasley

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sur-un-fil · 3 years

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“Karma is a bitch”

My entry in @nayialovecat's second contest! In both languages, of course... A (huge!) thank you to @waruihoshi for correcting the english version, without her I would have been too ashamed to participate! It's really a little novel, not my best, but it's the first time I participate to a contest and especially for a text in English. Here it is :)

I'll start with the English version and the French version is just below.

Enjoy!

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Fifteen didn't deserve this. He wasn't a bad ... person, and as long as he could remember (that is, until the morning before), he hadn't done anything to justify finding himself tied up and left to feed the Demon. Other than falling into a trap, of course. It wasn't fair. He still had several hours to live, he didn't want to end like this! Well, he would come back to life in the next cycle, but for some time now they had become unusually long. Who knows if they wouldn't just stop someday? Today, for example? With the bad luck that Fifteen dragged on, it was quite possible! So when the Demon offered him a chance to survive, he jumped at it. Two minutes was always better than nothing. Fifteen swallowed his first impulse, which was to sit on the floor to cry and thought while pretending to negotiate with Bendy. He had to surprised him. Show ingenuity. Not easy, for beings made of ink, black magic, despair and small habits. But Fifteen was not a fool. And above all, he was friends with John. John who always came home from Sammy with a blissful smile. He didn't believe for a second that the abomination in front of him was a god. No, he was a poor monster like all of them, but a monster with fangs and claws and a filthy appetite. Yes, but with one or two weaknesses ...

- Just a minute and twenty seconds, my pretty little snack, Bendy creaked with a smirk.

Fifteen flinched. And rushed forward. They weren't that far from his goal. And at that point in the cycle, Fifteen was pretty sure he knew where to find him. He was running as fast as he could. If the Demon was playing fair, he would keep that big, crooked devil form with a damaged leg, which would give him a chance to outrun him. But Bendy was hungry ... Fifteen forced himself not to think about what would happen to him if the Demon took on his bestial form. He bumped into walls as he turned in the hallways, jumped over the black puddles that splashed under the pounding of his feet, hurt his hands as he pushed the doors back ... But he didn't think about it. While fleeing, he tried to mobilize whatever persuasion he had left. He couldn't tell how long he had been running, or even if Bendy was already chasing him. And he wasn't going to stop to listen. Sammy's slogans were displayed on the walls, confirming that he was on the right track. The path they all avoided carefully, usually.

And he found him. Well, "found"... As he opened the door to the radio room, he crashed into Sammy and knocked him down on the floor, swept away by his speed and relief. Before the ex-musician could open his mouth to insult him (and surely promise him some very painful punishment), Fifteen took a deep breath, got up on his hands to look him in the eyes - actually in the mask - and bawled with conviction:

- I WANT TO CONVERT!

Sammy was speechless. It was the first time that one of these ... Useless things had come to him on purpose.

- This is ... Is it true? I mean ... Of course.

Fifteen nodded frantically, persuaded to hear the Demon already coming.

- Uh ... well, let u's talk to you about our Lord first, and ...

- NO! No. Erm, excuse me. Too much faith. Please, dear prophet, could you baptize me right now? I NEED it, you understand? It can't wait!

Fifteen could see the stars shining in Sammy's cardboard eyes. This ability he had to animate his mask had always scared him. But if this freak managed to save his life, he swore to ... To ... To avoid making fun of him too often with his friends. There. He owed him that.

He pushed himself up and jumped to his legs, then reached out and picked Sammy up. He then pushed him as respectfully as possible into the radio room and closed the door. It was paltry protection against Bendy, but maybe it'll give him a few more seconds? It was worth trying.

Sammy stood in the middle of the room, with dangling arms. He seemed completely overwhelmed bythe turn of the events. Fifteen, in a hurry to save himself, threw himself on his knees in front of him. He then lowered his head and clasped his hands, like he had sometimes caught John doing. Sammy seemed to come out of his delighted amazement. He playfully ran to the back of the room, rummaged in a shelf, and came back to him with a step that Fifteen considered happy, even from the depths of his fear. He then planted candles in a circle around Fifteen, lit them with a dexterity born of habit (and boredom too). Curious, Fifteen raised his head a little. Sammy wore a clean mask, which a smile bigger than the one of the little devil himself. He had set up a large cardboard representation of Bendy behind him and he was standing in front of Fifteen , his arms raised and a small cup in his right hand.

- My dear ... Sammy began in a powerful voice.

He suddenly lowered his head towards his future follower, who was quivering with impatience and terror.

- What's your name ?

"Fifteen, dear prophet," Fifteen replied, emphasizing the last words. He could have sworn that Sammy straightened up, repeating incredulously "Dear Prophet."

- My dear Fifteen, I have the pleasure of welcoming you among the disciples of our Lord Bendy. You've come a long way to get here ...

"But very quickly, believe me!" Fifteen thought sourly.

- ... and we reassure you. You made the right choice. A life full of joy and duty awaits you! You are going to us ...

Fifteen wasn't really listening. He kept a ear open, rolling his eyes internally, annoyed by Sammy's bombast. The ex-musician finally endeds up being silent, perhaps running out of inspiration. He raised his cup to the ceiling. Then he poured it on Fifteen's head. It was cold and oddly thick. And it smelled ...

"... bacon? Is he really baptizing me with soup?"

- You are now part of our community. There are still three of us!

And Fifteen finally heard it. The thud of heavy clawed hands on the floor. He tried to stay calm. He still had a handful seconds left, so he had to try his best. - Let us pray! he exclaimed loudly. He hoped Sammy would take the tension in his voice for a new and vibrant faith.

Sammy looked so delighted with his spontaneous proposal that Fifteen started to feel a bit guilty. The feeling quickly disappeared when he remembered that his "dear prophet" had previously condemned him to a terrible death. Shivering, he joined his voice to Sammy's, intoning with him a prayer that he found ridiculous, even though he had forgotten what they were supposed to sound like. He lowered his head, kneeling with his back to the door, with the weirdo reciting happily beside him when the door was torn off its hinges. He didn't move, praying harder, as Sammy turned his head.

- My Lord! What a happy surprise! I have great news: you have more and more believers!

Out of the corner of his eye, Fifteen distinctly saw the Big Bad Ink Demon flinch and step back at the warmth of the masked fanatic's welcome. He only stuck his big horned head through the doorway.

- I forgot you were there, Sally.

- ... Sammy, my Lord.

- Yes, that's what I said, Bendy replied in his deep, husky voice. Wait ... what are you telling me? What believers?

- New stray lambs opened their eyes and came to worship you! That's wonderful! We will be able to honor you as it should be. Three believers! Imagine how many altars we can build!

- W ... What?

- You will finally be satisfied! Besides, your presence here is proof. I never have the honor to see you at this point in the Cycle. Usually I have to look for you for a long time, or even hide to see you. But you came on your own. You must have felt the power of our love. So the more you will give us the joy of being with us, the stronger our faith will be!

Fifteen continued to pray absent-mindedly, saying whatever came to his mind that sounded a little religious, but not missing out a crumb of what was happening near to him:

- And we thank You, ô Black Ink, for all these wonderful cartoons You have made. For the strength of their film, which allows us to continue to admire You ... As well as for, uh ... the furniture ... No ... For the bacon soup. Yes, that on the other hand, it is really a miracle that we still find some!

He saw Bendy give him a longing glance, before quickly returning his attention to Sammy, who was beaming with happiness, and slowly walking towards him with arms wide open. The Ink Demon looked as though he was afraid of what he was planning to do and stepped back again like a big and nervous cat.

- You don't have to, really ... grumbled Bendy.

Sammy was still approaching, looking terribly affectionate, and the Demon whirled around and rushed off down the hall. The prophet slowly lowered his arms, disappointment written on his cardboard mask. Then he turned to Fifteen , who had taken the opportunity to get up and who could not contain his smile. He was alive! He had escaped Bendy! It was a wonderful, a magnificent cyc ...

- Good! Obviously, our Lord, overwhelmed with joy, had to leave. We must now prove ourselves worthy of his trust! I'll teach you the slogans we'll paint on the walls, and show you how to make altars. But I think we are also going to have to innovate. There are more of us, so we have to do new things. We're not going to leave each other now, Fifteen. There is so much to do !

Fifteen felt his happiness of survival die out at the prospect of having to spend all subsequent cycles doing silly and unnecessary things, trapped by a fanatic far too enthusiastic about his faith. Who talked a lot. And who was way too dangerously good with an axe for Fifteen to run away too.

Maybe being eaten by Bendy would't have been so bad after all.

At least it would have been quick.

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#batim #batim fanfic #bendy and the ink machine #bendy #sammy lawrence #SATIM #nayialovecatcontest

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years

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all aboard the mystery machine | (feat. the gym 3 squad and y/n)

this was inspired by a post by @kenchiko which was the ‘being in a friend group with gym three squad’ which i like to read when i’m sad. anyway, they all dressed up as the mystery gang and i thought it was so cute i decided to headcanon it. (thank u kenchiko i love ur tsukki stuff but i’m too shy to interact with u *waves*)

it was the day of electric spookaloos aka halloween and you and kuroo were hyped af

mostly because you could play ‘this is halloween’ on loudspeaker with less weird stares than usual

and kuroo’s all about gROuP CosTUmeS

previously the five of you had dressed up as the power rangers (which you switched for m&m’s because the helmets were too hard to make), the breakfast club, and the teen titans and now the five of you were going to top it off with…

‘the mystery gang from scooby doo!’ kuroo mentioned in your groupchat

no one noticed it except for bokuto who haha-reacted and then it resurfaced three days before halloween

kuroo and akaashi are the only ones who went all out with their costumes

kuroo has a blonde wig for his fred costume and akaashi also got a wig and made a dress for his daphne costume

bokuto ordered a cloth scooby doo mask online and forgot to order the rest of the body so he looks like inosuke from kny except his head is scooby doo

you and tsukki went to the dollar store on the day itself and just bought shirts for your velma and shaggy costumes

kuroo: you couldn’t even bother to get an orange sweater?

tsukki: it was fifty cents more expensive also i’m the blonde one so i should be fred

kuroo: well you didn’t binge-watch scooby doo all night and got only one hour of sleep so you had to sip akaashi’s pumpkin spiced latte before getting kicked by the owner of said latte

bokuto worked on spray painting kuroo’s pick-up truck to look like the mystery machine

but the painting didn’t work out and only half of the letters are legible so you’re all piled into a pick-up truck that says ‘THE Y T RY AC NE’ on the side

but you’re off to the only halloween party you were invited to !!

and you blast ‘this is halloween’ on loudspeaker while dancing in the backseat

except on the way tsukki gets a call from his boss (he works at a museum) abt some missing artifacts

you: why did he call you, don’t you just deliver coffee?

tsukki: *kicks you*

you: *kicks back and accidentally kicks bokuto*

bokuto, behind his mask: :’(

kuroo: missing artifacts??? museum????

tsukki: nO–

kuroo: SOUNDS LIKE A JOB FOR THE MYSTERY GANG *drives to museum before anyone can say anything*

akaashi: this is the only party we’ve been cool enough to be invited to this year and we’re going to spend it in mcdonalds again after this is over

bokuto: wE’RE GOING TO MCDONALDS IF WE’RE COOL ENOUGH?

akaashi: nO

anyway you, kuroo, and bokuto are excited for this ~~mystery~~

the five of you are miraculously able to sneak past the guards and enter through the back because the mystery gang gave you their blessing to break and enter almost any building on halloween night

kuroo, immediately getting into fred jones mode: alright let’s split up gang! daphne and i will check the upper floors while velma, shaggy, and scooby, you take the basement

bokuto: ruh-roh!·

you: splitting up is a surefire way for someone to get killed but go off, i guess?

kuroo: also, if anyone curses, they owe a quarter in the swear jar

akaashi: you can only use things like jinkies, jeepers, jiminy, or zoinks

tsukishima: i’m not fucking doing that

kuroo: that’s a quarter

anyway, you’re with bokuto and tsukishima so what could go wrong?

everything

and it all starts when you guys go downstairs into a basement full of creepy artifacts and find a mysterious, glowing amulet

you: i don’t think we should touch that

bokuto, who can barely hear anything in his decapitated scooby mask: TOUCH IT!

tsukki doesn’t care enough to hold him back and bokuto touches the amulet

the basement shakes, the ground beneath you trembles, the amulet grows brighter and pale green apparition appears in front of you. its danny phantom a hooded figure with glowing eyes

ghost: YOU HAVE AWAKENED THE GHOST OF THE AMULET OF ETERNAL SUFFERING

tsukki: …a song by Fall Out Boy

you: *trying hard not to laugh but also scared shitless* …jinkies

bokuto: ruh-roh?

tsukki: huh, i guess someone rigged a hologram here as a prank. nice one

ghost: I KNOW NOT OF THIS PRANK YOU SPEAK OF. YOU HAVE BROUGHT ETERNAL SUFFERING ONTO YOURSELVES, MORTALS

you: i mean, i work at customer service so…

tsukki: nice one *high fives you*

ghost: YOU HAVE– *stops when he actually sees bokuto* WHAT ABOMINATION IS THIS?

tsukki: mean, that’s just y/n

you: *kicks him*

meanwhile kuroo and akaashi are sleuthing it up upstairs

kuroo: *having a staring contest with one of the paintings displayed*

akaashi: what are you doing?

kuroo: you know how painting’s eyes tend to follow the main character in cartoons?

akaashi:,,,kuroo that’s a painting of an apple

kuroo: i could have sworn i saw some red eyes

akaashi: i don’t think anyone would be blazing it in a museum. come on, let’s check the next room

while walking past a row of suits of armor, one of the displays turns its head (but no one notices it yet shhhhh)

back at the basement

the ghost is wreaking havoc: chairs are thrown against the wall, vases are cracked, the faint smell of sulphur is in the air. you and bokuto are fucking terrified and look more like shaggy and scooby despite your shitty cosplays. tsukishima doesn’t believe in anything that’s going on

tsukki: man, these guys here are really putting effort into this prank

you: TSUKKI I DON’T THINK THIS IS A PRANK

ghost: *starts chanting in some unknown, ancient language*

tsukki: ah, nice touch. you watch lord of the rings?

you: tSUKKI NO-

bokuto: don’t worry! i’ll exorcise this spirit with my bible knowledge!

you and tsukki: MANGA MESSIAH IS NOT THE BIBLE

akaashi: *shivers* i just had the strangest feeling that bokuto called manga messiah the bible again

kuroo: zoinks! sounds like him

akaashi: *trying not to cringe* anyway, they’re probably not doing anything right now

the basement, atm: just a complete fucking mess

the walls have started bleeding but somehow y’all are still a-okay

that’s because tsukki’s so salty he’s basically a salt circle with 10m radius but you didn’t hear that from me

and he STILL DOESN’T BELIEVE THAT A REAL ASS GHOST IS HAUNTING THEM

the ghost is also tired at this point

also bokuto is really fucking scared but decides to end things ONCE and FOR ALL

he stands up from under the desk and just tackles the ghost like a football player

he didn’t think that he’d pass through the ghost

but seeing a buff dude with a scooby doo head is enough to scare mr. blood-dripping-from-the-walls shitless, especially when he fucking passes through him

ghost: *disappears back into the amulet*

you: and you still don’t believe that’s real???

tsukki: ghosts aren’t real

you: *ready to throw hands*

bokuto: I DID IT! I FOUGHT A GHOST!

you pocket the amulet because you can send it to your enemies

meanwhile: upstairs

kuroo: man, i’d give anything to be chased by a scooby-doo villain dressed in a suit of armor

a suit of armor: *starts chasing them*

akaashi, in his best daphne voice: jeepers! we better get out of here!

kuroo, crying out how perfectly akaashi emulated daphne: let’s split up gang!

they don’t split up tho that would be dumb

*cue classic scooby doo chase scene with the music*

and then as they round a corner they run into you, tsukki, and bokuto fresh from the basement and you all fall into a heap

tsukki: *sees the suit of armor running towards then* ah fuck, what now?

kuroo: laNGUAGE *hands him the swear jar*

akaashi: NOT THE TIME

you: GET HIM BOKUTO!”

bokuto stands up and once again tackles the knight and this time he doesn’t pass through

it takes five (5) of you to tie up this one (1) guy

kuroo: oh my god, i’m ready

you: ready for what?

bokuto: the final unveiling

kuroo: now let’s see who’s behind all this! *rips off the helmet which tears off like a mask don’t ask me why but apparently that happens*

and it’s…Bokuto!!

everyone: *gasps and turns to Bokuto who FINALLY removes the scooby doo mask*

tsukki: *gasp* you’re the creepy british dude who keeps trying to buying our local artifacts to display at The British Museum!

akaashi: neo-imperialism is real

bokuto in the suit of armor: guys help!! he kidnapped me!!

all of you (except tsukki because he’s so done at this point) tackle mr. british villain who you thought was bokuto

finally the right person has been tied up

kuroo: your days of stealing artifacts are over!

british villain (let’s say he looks like jude law or something): and i would have gotten away with it…

kuroo: *grabbing your arm* oh my god! he’s gonna say it! he’s gonna say it!

british villain/jude law: …if it weren’t for you fUCKERS!

*dead silence*

kuroo tries to hand him the swear jar but akaashi puts his hand down

you: can we call the police?

akaashi: *gags* fuck the police

you: he’s white, british, and a man. they won’t do anything to him

akaashi: exactly

tsukki: hey, you still have that amulet from earlier, right?

you: the CURSED amulet with the GHOST inside?

akaashi: the what now?

tsukki: yeah, maybe leave it with this guy? and then he’ll get pranked

at this point you’re too tired to argue with mister ghosts-aren’t-real so you leave the amulet with jude law and the five of you get out of the museum and pile into the mystery machine

akaashi: do you think the party’s still going?

you: we could hang out in mcdonalds again like last year

but otw to mcdonalds kuroo’s phone rings and he picks up

kuroo: hello? b-bokuto?

bokuto, over the phone: guys where are you??? the party started hours ago and my headless scooby-doo onesie is hard to get out of and i need to pee !!

akaashi: but…

you all turn to look at ‘bokuto’ sitting between you and tsukki in the backseat. he removes his mask.

it’s…jude law !!

*cue ending music*

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shigarakis-fifth-hand · 4 years

Text

Mha x Reader Headcanons

Anonymous said:

Can you do a scenario or headcanon (whatever you prefer) with Mirio, Kirishima and Jirou? How they react seeing their crush in school after an wild erotic dream they had the past night xd

Mirio

His dreams had been getting worse throughout the week... or had they been getting better? He knew that he shouldn’t be thinking such thoughts, but how could he not when you passed him in the hallway, and all he could think about was how nice you had looked under him last night.

He pinned you against the wall, kissing your neck while his thigh pressed in between your bare legs. The slick on your thigh dripped on him, making his erection go crazy against you. God you looked so beautiful, his hand in your hair as your mouth on his, hickeys trailing down your beautiful body. He could only imagine how amazing he would feel in real life.

God, what was he thinking? You were innocent, and one of his friends. You had done charity work with him, and he often went to see you at the barista job you worked at. How could he think such things about you?

“Mirio?? Mirio...” You snapped your fingers in front of his face, trying to get his attention. “W-what. Oh, sorry Y/n.” He tried to smile, but you were more confused by the large blush on his face. “Are you okay? You didn’t answer my call this morning, and you have heavy circles under your eyes. Are you sleeping well?” You asked as he couldn’t help but give a small smirk.

“I’ve been sleeping great, trust me. You don’t need to worry about me.” He gave you a thumbs up that you smiled back at... your beautiful smile. “Awesome. I need to get to class early to help Sensei with planning the school festival. Tell me if I can help you with anything. I’ll do it.”

As you walked off, Mirio couldn’t help but stare at you. Surely you had meant anything in an innocent way, but Mirio was far was innocent, especially when it came to you. He spent the next few minutes at his locker, trying to pull his mind together as images of you played in his mind.

What could he do? What could he say? Who could he go to? Tamaki would die if he told him, and Nejire was a girl. What an awkward conversation that would be... He decided to confront you, or at least, ask you out. Surely you would say yes, right? Sure you would... maybe not. Maybe you didn’t like him at all, or would see him as creepy.

Maybe it would ruin your friendship, and you’d never be able to talk to him again without feeling awkward. He couldn’t risk that, but he was also going to die if he didn’t confront these dreams. He obviously had feelings about you, so now it was just a question of what to do with these feelings. He couldn’t just ignore them by this point.

He walked to the classroom, knowing that it was early and that you’d be there with Present Mic. Maybe he could talk to you there. But as he walked in, he saw that it was only you. “Hey Miri! What’s up?” You saw him immediately, as you were sitting on one of the desks, kicking your legs forwards and back. “O-oh, I was looking for you actually. Where’s Sensei?” He asked as you just smiled, continuing to write in your planner.

“He had to go get papers from the printer. He said it broke so I’m not sure how long he’ll be. You were looking for me? Do you need something?” You asked, your eyes big and glittering with curiosity. “U-um, ya. I... I’d like to ask you out.” It was now or never for Mirio. Your face froze, scanning his face for any hint that he was joking. “Oh god, um, never mind. Haha, gotcha! I was just-” He stopped, seeing you smile and blush.

“I’m guessing Mirio and Tamaki told you huh? I knew those two would spill.” You whispered, blushing from embarrassment as you looked at the ground. “W-what? No, they didn’t tell me anything. Does that mean you...” Y/n looked up at him, smiling. “I feel the same way Miri.” The two smiled at each other, before Mirio’s eyes opened wide.

“Before... before class starts... can I try something?” He asked as Y/n looked at him confused and curious, nodding slowly. Slowly, Mirio leaned in and kissed her lips softly. It was slow, sweet, and very romantic. They only separated when they heard the footsteps of Present Mic and his humming in the hallways. Mirio sat next to her, and they began to laugh, making up a fake conversation to hide their past actions.

“Oh, hey Togata. Y/n, I got the papers so after class I can send them home with you and you can edit them. How are you doing Togata?” He asked Mirio as he just shrugged, blushing and hoping that he didn’t have lip gloss on his lips. “Well that’s nice. Oh Y/n, you have some drool on the side of you cheek”

Kirishima

Eijiro woke up in the middle of the night in a cold, hard sweat. His erection was hard as ever, and images of you couldn’t stop playing in his mind.

You were under him, a moaning mess as he fucked you senseless. Overstimulating you, your thighs shook as you felt your third orgasm coming on. “D-daddy, please.” You begged as he bent down to kiss you, you finally reaching your climax as his passionate French kisses drowned out your sounds. He loved every bit of it, kissing all around your body as you fell limb, exhausted from the past hour.

“You did amazing Babygirl. You’re so perfect.” And you were... perfect. Your hair was messy and you looked overwhelmed, but you had never looked better. You were gorgeous, sweet, smart, powerful, and beyond the most amazing girl in UA. Kirishima couldn’t believe that he had gotten you.

Until he woke up and realized that he didn’t have you. It made him sad, and he had to forget these thoughts. He got up from his bed, grabbed the empty water glass on his nightstand, and walked to the kitchen. With his airpods in his ears, he was unaware to his surroundings as he filled up the cup, blasting heavy rock in his ears.

But as he turned, he stepped back to see you balled up on the couch, hugging your knees and zoning off into the distance, crying. What the hell were you doing up so late? What kind of coincidence was this? As soon as he saw you, you saw him. Without being able to control his body, he ran to you and enveloped you in a hug as you did the same. He rubbed your back and did everything to comfort you.

“Depression is a bitch Eiji.” You whispered as he nodded, understanding now what you were doing out here. “It’s okay. I’m here for you.” You two stood there for a minute, until he sat you down and had you tell him everything. You told him about how you didn’t believe that you were strong enough to become a hero, and that you didn’t deserve anything good that had happened to you.

“No no no, Y/n.” He smiled at you, instantly making you feel better and your insides feel warm. “You’re amazing. You’re beautiful and sweet, and everyone who meets you absolutely adores you. I hope you understand how perfect you are.” You looked up at him as he wiped a tear from your face.

The night ended up with you two hugging, and then him walking you to your room. The next few days went on like this, until you eventually caught feelings for him as well.

“H-hey guys, can I talk to Y/n for a minute?” Mina, Ochako, Asui, Momo, and Jirou all looked at him, before walking away, leaving you and him alone. “What’s up Kiri?” You asked, smiling as you stood up. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out... with me... tonight?” He asked as your eyes opened wide, glittering with happiness. “Yes, of course I would!” You hugged him, before looking behind you two to see Denki and Bakugo, Denki cheering loudly and Bakugo trying to shut him up with punches to the stomach.

“Ignore them.” Kiri whispered as you giggled, kissing his cheek. “What time?”

Jirou

Jirou’s dream was the worst/best of all.

She had you tied up with ropes around your wrists as you two made out furiously, her fingering you while you became a moaning mess. “Jiri... please. Harder!” You screamed out as Jirou smirked, pushing her fingers deeper inside of you before you reached your climax. As you moaned and yelled out her name, she undid the restraints and pinned up under her as she sucked all over your body, leaving bright purple, tender hickeys. “Jiri... everyone will see those.” You whispered as she smiled, kissing your collarbone. “I know baby.”

When she woke up, she was in the middle of class, Aizawa teaching in the front and you shaking her. “Jiri, you okay? You were talking in your sleep.” You explained as she blushed, almost falling out of her chair as she freaked out. “W-w-what did I say?!” She asked as you just shrugged, before looking back up at the teacher. “I couldn’t hear, it was all mumbled. Mr. Aizawa was about to yell at you though.” You smiled at her before focusing on the teacher once more.

Jirou blushed, hiding her face as she looked away from you. The rest of the class went terrible for Jirou. All she could imagine the entire time was you, under her control as she kissed you. God she wanted you more than anything in the entire world. How was someone allowed to be so god damn perfect and not be hers? You were single, and bisexual! Goddddddd, she had an issue.

“Now go change into your hero suits and meet me out in the field.” Aizawa instructed as you hopped up, linking arms with Jirou and Mina like usual. “You didn’t miss much babe, we’re just going to be showing Present Mic and Aizawa how our suits help us use our quirk or moves better.” Mina explained, before running off to tell Mina something.

“So, any plans this weekend? I still want to go to that musical concert with you if you aren’t too tired for it.” You teased as you entered the locker rooms, grabbing your hero suit out of your locker room and beginning to change. Jirou couldn’t help but glance over as you took off your shirt, and began struggling with your bra. “H-hey, Jirou. Can you help me?” You gestured to the buckle on the back of your bra with your hand.

Jirou nodded, swallowing nervously as she began sweating. It was obvious that you needed a sports bra when you wore your hero suit, but Jirou forgot how she usually helped you reach with your short arms. As she did it, you thanked her, beginning to turn around before you made eye contact with her.

In that moment, the two of you couldn’t contain yourselves as Jirou slammed her lips into yours, passionately kissing you and biting your lip. Looking around, Jirou slowly pushed you into the stall nearby and closed it. In the moment, you both were making out furiously, as if all the sexual tension between you two was melting off and being used in that exact moment. So much lust, and so many feelings.

“Jiri, Y/n? Come on, let’s go!” It was Mina. Inside the stall, Jirou pulled on her suit and then slowly helped you into yours. “Let’s finish this after school in your dorm?” Jirou asked into your ear as you nodded, goosebumps forming all over your body. So fucking hot...

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today-only-happens-once · 5 years

Text

the only exception

Title: the only exception

Word Count: 4,549

Summary: College!AU, Musician!AU. Patton shows up to a music festival that Virgil—along with his twin brother, Roman—is headlining, hoping to surprise him. Turns out, it’s Virgil that surprises him first. Romantic Moxiety, brief background Logince. Song-fic.

Warnings: lots of fluff and softness and sappiness, mutual pining elements, declarations of love, description of crowds, cursing, discussion of anxiety, mention of anxiety attacks, kissing, Virgil “writes” a song that’s actually written irl by Paramore but ssshhh Paramore doesn’t exist in this AU, please let me know if I forgot anything.

A/N: Someone on tumblr once made a textpost that said “The Only Exception” was a Moxiety song, and weeks later I listened to it and realized they were right. And then I had this image in my head that wouldn’t go away for like. Months. And then eventually I decided to write this. It’s basically a song-fic. Crazy self-indulgent, heh. Also, I’ve never written Romantic Moxiety before, nor have I written a Patton-POV focused fic. So writing this was a whole boatload of new. I hope it turned out okay! Edited by yours truly, so all mistakes are mine.

You can listen to the song Virgil sings at the end here!

Tags: @creativenostalgiastuff, @helloisthisusernametaken, @ren-allen, @quoth-the-sparrow, @princelogical, @random-pianist, @ravenclawicecream, @erlenmeyertrash, @milomeepit, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @rileyfirstname, @pinkeasteregg, @sassy-in-glasses, @vigilantvirgil, @generalfandomfabulousness, @lacrimosathedark, @thepoolofthedead, @monikastec, @heir-of-the-founders, @yourworstnightmare999, @artistictaurean, @kanejandkruge, @cdragontogacotar, @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl, @angst-patton, @savingshae, @noneed4thistbh, @awesomelissawho, @unikornavenger, @bopthesnoz, @spiralofsilencetheory, @finger-gunsss, @crownswriter123, @swlotakulady34, @gaylotusthatexists, @analogical-mess, @dolphidragon, @flix-net, @narniasfinestavengingsociopath, @friedlieb-ferdinand-runge, @bibbidy-bobbity-booyah, @procrastinations-my-middle-name, and also @randomslasher because moxiety! ^u^

…

Present. March. Junior Year.

Patton shoulders his way through the crowd as rock music blares loudly over the speakers. The late March air is cool, and the breeze tugs at the COLLEGE-PALOOZA MUSIC FEST banner hanging from the amphitheater’s stage. A few people he recognizes from his classes wave to him as they nod their head to the music. Patton slows as he finds a small gap in the crowd, not particularly keen on getting into the tightly packed mosh pit that had formed right in front of the stage.

The sun is beginning to set, casting the sky in a light purple hue. Perhaps ironically, it reminds Patton of the guy he’s actually here to see perform. Patton glances at the stage, but there’s no sign of him. He checks his phone for the time. The group was supposed to be on now, but perhaps he’d missed them already.

He looks at the guy beside him—leather jacket and sunglasses, holding a Starbucks cup—and asks over the music, “Which group is this?”

The guy takes a long swallow and then jerks his head towards the stage. “Planets Align. They had trouble getting the sound system working, so they’re running behind.”

Patton nods his understanding, smiles, and thanks him. Planets Align was scheduled to go on right before them, if the pamphlet he’d found on Virgil’s desk was anything to go by. He’d felt terrible at the time when he realized that the band Virgil had formed with his twin brother, Roman, would be headlining a music festival the same day Patton had already promised to help with a group project.

But the other members of his group canceled the meeting earlier today and rescheduled it for next week. So Patton really didn’t see any reason why he couldn’t come support Virgil. And if he maybe didn’t tell Virge in the hopes of being able to surprise him… well.

Besides, he had a feeling Virgil could use a nice surprise. He’d seemed really nervous about the festival when Patton was talking to him about it when he found the pamphlet. Virgil often seemed nervous, but… more nervous than even Virgil’s normal.

Patton smiles a bit to himself when he remembers when they first met.

…

September. Sophomore year.

“For the purposes of this research presentation, I will allow you to choose partners. We will need one group of three, but that certainly seems manageable.”

Patton glances around the stuffy lecture hall. It was only the third time the class had met, so Patton hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to many of his classmates yet. On top of that, it was a pretty big class. Patton had a feeling that he wouldn’t know everybody even by the end of the year. The professor waves her hand to indicate that they should select a partner and begin discussing the project.

Chatter rose up—most people leaning over towards people they were sitting next to, a few calling to friends across the room—and there was shuffling movement and the scraping of chairs as students milled about to find a research partner. Then Patton caught sight of a black and purple hoodie in the back row.

What was his name? Patton couldn’t remember, despite the ice breaker during their first class. He does remember the snort the guy had released when Patton had made a pun about his name when introducing himself. He also remembers the way he’d immediately ducked his head a second later when Patton grinned at him.

Patton gathers his things and squeezes through his classmates. “Hey,” he says. The guy in the hoodie looks up, seeming startled. “Wanna be partners?”

The guy blinks at him, then shifts in his seat and motions to the empty chair on the other side of his desk. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“I’m Patton, by the way.”

“Virgil. What, uh, what are you studying?”

Patton pulls his laptop out of his bag. “Oh! I’m an early education major. What about you?” As he asks, Patton casts a quick glance at the laptop in front of Virgil and notices the stickers on it: SANDERS in messy black scrawl, a thundercloud with a bolt of lightning, a small circle with a paint-smear style gay pride flag, and a few music notes.

“Graphic design with a minor in music,” he replies. Patton notices him glancing at the buttons on Patton’s backpack that he threw in the empty chair beside him—some about cats, some about dogs, a heart with glasses that he thought was cute, and a pride pin from last year’s Pride week.

“That’s pretty cool. You play music?”

Virgil lifts a shoulder. “With my brother, mostly.”

“Wow. That’s… really awesome,” Patton says, sincerely impressed. He’d always loved music, but really only dabbled in the ukulele. He’d always thought musicians were cool: having skills like that took a lot of work, and a lot of dedication. That seemed pretty admirable to Patton.

Virgil smirks. “If you say so.”

“I do. I mean it.” For a fleeting moment, Virgil looks taken aback by the insistence in Patton’s voice. “What do you play?”

…

Present.

“Roman is totally the hot one,” Patton hears a girl behind him say to her friends.

“Elliot thinks he has a crush on Logan Berry, you know.”

“He’s gay?” The girl sounds surprised, but not hostile.

“Ace, I think. Panromantic, if the stickers on his laptop are anything to go by.” Patton recognizes that voice as one of the girls in the LGBTQ+ club that Patton was secretary for.

“You have class with him?”

“We had English 100 together freshman year. Elliot’s in class with him and Logan, though, and says they want to gag literally any time the two so much as talk to each other.”

Patton grins to himself. Subtlety when he had a crush had never really been Roman’s strong suit. That was another place where Virgil was markedly different from his twin brother. Both Roman and Virgil had ways of keeping their distance from others, but where Roman put up a front of fearlessness and confidence and friendliness… Virgil seemed more likely to withdraw into himself.

Patton had learned that, and many other things about Virgil, slowly as meetings for the research project gradually developed into hanging out regularly and casually. Patton picked up on things about Virgil relatively quickly. He gets quiet and irritable when he’s actually anxious about something. He tends to catastrophize, especially when it comes to academics. He hasn’t yet learned how to accept compliments—something Patton didn’t let deter him from giving them. He hopes that the more he’s able to expose Virgil to them, the easier it will eventually get for him to accept them.

Patton learned that Virgil is fiercely protective, too. The fastest way for Virgil to overcome his anxiety about a situation is usually when it’s related to someone he cares about. He still remembers the fire that had alighted in his eyes when someone had started harassing Roman when he, Patton, Roman, and Logan had been heading back from a party on a Friday night a couple of months ago. Logan had been the one to diffuse that particular situation, but Patton hadn’t missed the way Virgil hovered closer to his brother and looked ready to fight when he’d seen the shaken look in Roman’s eyes.

But then there were the softer moments from Virgil, too. The fleeting moments when Patton saw something gentle and relaxed from him that a secret part of Patton liked to believe were just for him. They were a sign of trust from Virgil, and Patton had always cherished that trust precisely because it was so rare.

…

April. Sophomore year.

“What time is it?” Virgil asks with a yawn. He’s sitting on the floor of his dorm, his guitar in his hands. His back is leaned up against the drawers of his desk. Patton sits on the floor across from him with his back against the cinderblock wall and his legs stretched out in front of him.

Patton digs his phone out of his pocket and checks. “Almost 1 in the morning.”

Virgil nods and strums a few chords softly. “You’re welcome to stick around, Patton, but… y’know. It’s chill if you’d rather go home.”

Patton shakes his head “I like it here,” he says. For reasons he is still figuring out, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Patton watches him; he watches the way Virgil’s bangs fall in a soft sweep across his face, the dark eyeshadow smudged under his eyes, the slight parting of his lips as he mouths unheard lyrics. He always loves watching Virgil play guitar. There’s something about watching him hold the light brown acoustic instrument—like it steadies him, like it’s a shield that protects him—that Patton can’t help but love. Virgil seems to… breathe easier when he has a guitar in his hands.

“Virgil? Can I ask you something?” Patton says suddenly.

Virgil glances quickly at him, then back down at the guitar in his hands. Avoiding his eyes. “Yeah. Sure.” His voice sounds oddly tight to Patton.

“Why do you play music?”

The question seems to catch him off guard. Virgil stops short for a moment, glancing back up at Patton. His hands still against the instrument, his eyes flit away in thought.

Then—to Patton’s surprise—he sets the guitar aside.

“It… gives me a space where I can… connect, I guess?” He rubs the back of his head, glancing at Patton as if unsure whether or not his own words made sense.

“Connect?”

“Well,” Virgil pulls his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on top of them, “Yeah. I’ve never been good at… at the whole…” He waves a hand and sighs. “At the whole ‘words’ thing that’s required for making friends or helping someone or… whatever. I’m always afraid I’m gonna say the wrong thing, or make them feel awkward, or… shit, I don’t know. But music is different. It…” He huffs a frustrated sigh as the words escape him. Then he tosses Patton a wry smile. “See what I mean? Words aren’t really my thing. Music is different, though.”

Patton nods. He glances around at the MCR and Dear Evan Hansen poster on walls of Virgil’s side of the room. “I think I get it. Music lets you speak from where you are emotionally at a given moment, and people can come to you—or your music—to find that connection and community. It… lets you express yourself, and by doing that, lets you connect to other people.”

When Patton looks back at Virgil, he’s looking at him with something like disbelief. But there’s a softness and light in his eyes that makes Patton’s stomach flutter. “Yeah,” Virgil says eventually. “Exactly.” Patton meets his gaze with a small smile, even as he feels suddenly like Virgil can see all the parts of himself that he wants to hide.

The corner of Virgil’s mouth quirks slightly and he digs a small purple leather notepad out of his back pocket. He grabs a pen from the top of his desk and scribbles something down.

“Whatcha writing?” Patton asks curiously.

Virgil folds it and slips it back into his pocket. “Nothing, Pat.” He still has that soft kind of smile and look in his eyes even as he grabs his guitar and pulls it back into his lap.

…

Present.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Planets Align!” The emcee shouts into the mic as he runs on stage and the band waves as they exit to the cheers of the crowd. Patton applauds them and briefly considers moving closer to the stage before deciding against it. He’d never done well with tight crowds.

The sun has dipped below the horizon now, the sky darkening quickly. The lights from the stage bleed out onto the grass clearing, providing some lighting of the crowd itself as well. The air is a bit colder now, but Patton doesn’t mind. Besides, all the people around him moving and dancing have helped keep it from getting too cold anyway.

“Next up, the ones you’ve all been waiting for. Let’s hear it for… SANDERS!”

Patton lets out a cheer as the crowd screams. He sees Virgil’s twin brother—though you’d never know it from how differently they do make up and their hair—run on stage with his arms up to encourage the crowd’s response. The cheers get louder, and Roman grins and strikes a hero pose. He’s energized. Patton smiles at his evident excitement.

Virgil follows behind him, an electric guitar strapped to his back. Even from his distance from the stage, Patton can see him shaking his head at his brother’s antics. He gives a small, appreciative wave to the crowd. His eyes scan it, and a part of Patton can’t help but wonder if he’s looking for him someone.

Reasoning, though, reminds him that Virgil said he always tries to get a feel for the size of a crowd when he goes out on stage at a venue for the first time. It had started as a nervous thing—how many people might see me fail?—but as Virgil’s confidence in performing grew, it had mostly just become a habit.

“What is UP, everybody?” Roman says into the mic. He’s wearing a bright red leather jacket with a white shirt underneath, shiny gold skinny jeans, and red high top converse. “We’re so glad you could come out tonight. How about this awesome weather, yeah?”

More cheers. Patton watches as Virgil pulls the guitar from around his back with a smile. He’s in his familiar hoodie, purple shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, and his black sneakers with purple laces. At first glance, he doesn’t seem too nervous—Patton had long ago gotten in the habit of glancing at him to check if he’s okay when he knows Virgil might be getting anxious—but it’s hard to tell from this distance.

“My brother, Virgil, and I thought we’d kick things off with an original song. How’s that sound, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals?” There’s louder cheering, and the two of them waste no time starting a song that Patton remembers from previous concerts of theirs he’d attended.

…

November. Junior Year.

Patton’s phone dings while he’s eating lunch in the student union and flipping through an education textbook to study for his quiz tomorrow on Vygotsky’s Zone of Proximal Development. Exams are quickly approaching, and Patton had always struggled to remember theorists’ names for some reason.

It’s a text from Roman. Is V with you?

Patton frowns and types back quickly. No. It’s Tuesday. Then he sends a second text. Why?

The student union is bustling with students breezing through to grab lunch before rushing off to the library or their class. Groups are clustered around tables to hash out the details of final projects as their deadlines approach in the next week or two. Exhausted English majors slump over their stale coffee cups and computers as they edit their final paper for the eighth time. Engineering students running on caffeine and spite chug another energy drink before hurrying off to the lab building. A couple others that Patton can see are watching Netflix in a desperate attempt to give themselves a break before plunging back into the grind of end-of-the-semester assignments.

Roman’s reply comes almost immediately. He sent me a single letter text which usually means he’s freaking out but idek where he is

Patton stands up and forgets his half-eaten sandwich, dropping it in the compost bin as he slings his backpack over his shoulder and hurries out of the building. Have you tried calling him? He texts quickly.

R: Yeah. No response… just lemme know if you see him or if he texts you or something ok

Patton rolls his eyes. As if he’s just going to go about his day and not try to help. Especially if V might be freaking out. We’ll find him, Roman. You check the science center and I’ll check the music floor of Stokes Hall.

R: ok.

R: Thanks

Patton turns his ringer on at full volume and braces against the cold air as he hurries to the building beside the Student Union. The November air is biting. Students bustle with their noses tucked into their scarves and red fingers curled around coffee cups. There was no snow on the ground, but the grass still crunches under Patton’s shoes as he hurries across the quad towards Stokes Hall. His light blue beanie is pulled low over his light brown hair.

He’s wishing he had a scarf to hide his nose in—instead opting to try to tuck it into the sleeves of the sweatshirt tied around his shoulders—when he walks straight into someone.

“Shit! I’m so sorry—”

“Virgil?” Patton asks, immediately recognizing the voice. He looks up, and Virgil seems frozen for a moment. It only takes Patton a second to realize that his eyes are red and sunken slightly. His usual sweep of hair is a disheveled mess under the hood of his sweatshirt that engulfs his frame.

If Patton’s being honest, he looks… rough. Concern twists in Patton’s chest.

“I’m so sorry, Patton. I’m an idiot, I just wasn’t watching where—”

“Hey, it’s all good, Virge,” Patton says, quickly but sincerely. He places his hands on Virgil’s shoulder to anchor him. “Breathe.”

Virgil laughs but it’s humorless and shrugs out from under his grip. Patton frowns. “I’m fine. I know I look like a mess, but really. It’s fine now. I was just. Um. Coming outside for some air.”

Patton considers the deflection and decides to meet Virgil half-way. “I could use some too.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“Honest, V. The cold air is kind of nice.” Patton slips his phone out of his pocket and sends a quick text to Roman. Got him. He offers a small, reassuring smile to Virgil.“ You wanna take a seat?”

Virgil meets his gaze, then glances away. He seems to think about it for a moment, then relents with a slight sag to his shoulders. “Sure. Fine.”

Patton wanders over to a bench across the pathway and takes a seat. He looks around as students rush quickly towards their classes, smiling brightly as a service dog trots dutifully beside his owner and pushes the button to open the door as the student hurries inside. He intentionally keeps his gaze from lingering on Virgil, even as he hesitates before sitting beside him.

Virgil waits until most of the students have rushed off before breaking the silence between them. “You aren’t going to ask?”

Patton glances over at him. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and you seemed reluctant to talk about it…. Should I ask?”

“No. Yes?” Virgil groans, zipping up his hoodie against the chilly air. “It wasn’t anything like. That bad. Y’know? I just get… anxiety attacks sometimes, and sometimes they get…” He trails off. Patton senses more than sees the way Virgil glances quickly at him. “Anyway. I’m fine now.”

Patton isn’t sure what to say. He’d known for a long time now that Virgil struggled with anxiety. That Virgil had anxiety attacks doesn’t exactly surprise him, and it definitely isn’t off-putting or anything of the sort. But Patton hates the way Virgil keeps trying to deflect… something. Judgement. Concern. Patton suddenly and fiercely wishes Virgil would just let someone care about him. Let someone love him.

Patton thinks maybe he already does.

“Virgil….” Patton says softly, looking at his hands folded between his knees, “It’s okay. You know that, right? You can talk to me about it. And I’m not gonna judge you or think you’re weird or that there’s anything wrong with you.”

“I… I’m fine.”

Patton lifts a shoulder. “Okay. But… it’s okay if you aren’t, too. And either way… you’re definitely not alone. You know? You know Roman’s there for you, but… but I am too. I care about you.”

In his peripheral, he sees Virgil look at him. “Patton—”

“There you guys are!” Roman exclaims as he jogs up to the two of them. Patton smiles at Virgil—who looks, for all the world, like the ground has shifted underneath him.

Patton wants to ask him why. He never does.

…

Present.

SANDERS has played through five songs, which means they’re nearing the end of their set. Patton is beaming. Virgil and Roman play off each other so well, and their music seems to be a blend of both of them in a way. They balance each other on stage. They’re fun to watch. Patton can’t help but think, though he may be biased, that if they really wanted to… they could make a career out of it.

But then they do something that surprises Patton, and apparently everyone else too from the way the crowd starts to murmur.

Virgil trades out his electric guitar for his light brown acoustic one. Roman grabs a wooden stool from one of the wings and sets it in the middle of the stage. Virgil adjusts the strap of the guitar around his shoulders, nodding his thanks to Roman.

“So I hope you all don’t mind if we close out with something a little different than our usual pace,” Virgil is saying into the wireless mic attached to him. “But I lost a bet against Roman, and that means I gotta do this.”

“If I lost I was gonna have to wear jorts for this concert. You all should be thanking me,” Roman quips back through his own mic. There’s a chuckle from Virgil as well as the crowd.

“Yeah, well. This is a song I wrote over the course of… probably about a year. It’s about someone very… important to me. He couldn’t be here tonight, but… he’s pretty great. Anyway, it’s a little different, so uh.” Even under the stage lights, Patton thinks he can see Virgil flushing slightly. “I hope you all like it.”

Virgil starts strumming and all Patton can do is watch him, transfixed by the sound of an acoustic guitar and the sight of Virgil under a spotlight on stage. It’s a much softer song already than any other song in their entire set. Virgil ducks his head slightly, his black sneaker tapping out the ¾ meter. And then Virgil starts to sing.

“When I was younger I saw my daddy cry, and curse at the wind.

He broke his own heart and I watched as he tried to reassemble it.

And my momma swore that she would never let herself forget.

And that was the day that I promised I’d never sing of love if it does not exist.

But darlin’ you are the only exception. You are the only exception…”

As Virgil sings, Patton can’t help but feel rooted to the spot. Virgil sitting and playing his acoustic guitar reminds Patton suddenly of that moment again back in Virgil’s dorm room. That moment of honesty and openness from him that always felt so rare. Patton feels like he’s experiencing that again, despite the crowd and the spotlights. Because this is not performance-Virgil, this is just…. Virgil. At his most honest. At his mot exposed. And it’s breathtaking.

Patton doesn’t even fully realize that he’s moving closer to the stage until he almost trips over a girl that’s swaying and holding her phone with a flashlight up in the air.

Virgil breaks into the second verse, and Patton feels his stomach fluttering all over again at the sound of his voice.

“Well maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul that love never lasts.

And we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone or keep a straight face.

And I’ve always lived like this. Keeping a comfortable distance.

And up until now I had sworn to myself that I’m content with loneliness,

‘Cuz none of it was ever worth the risk.

Well you are the only exception. You are the only exception…”

And a part of Patton—a part he’s afraid to admit to—suddenly starts to grow insistent with the realization that he might be really, truly, unequivocally in love with the person singing on the stage in this moment. The one with his bangs falling into eyes that had always looked to Patton to be a little bit afraid and a lot brave.

This song, this moment, is no exception to that. Music, for Virgil, had always started from some place deeply personal. It is what allows him to connect to others, after all. And Patton doesn’t know if the song is about him, but he wants it to be. Because that deeply personal space that Virgil is singing from resonates with Patton in a way that leaves only one thought repeating in his head. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Almost as if he hears the thought itself, Virgil looks up and starts scanning the crowd again as he reaches the bridge.

“I’ve got a tight grip on reality

But I can’t let go of what’s in front of me here.” He’s scanning, scanning, scanning…

“I know you’re leaving in the morning. When you wake up,

Leave me with some kind of proof it’s not a dream. Oh…”

And then his eyes settle squarely on Patton, and Patton swears he hears the very faint catch of Virgil’s breath through the mic.

Patton gives him a small, faint smile. There’s a brief moment where uncertainty flickers through Virgil’s dark eyes, and then something sets firmly in them. As if he’s made some kind of split-second decision. Virgil stands up from the stool and starts making his way towards the stage stairs, continuing to play and sing as he does so.

“You are the only exception. You are the only exception….”

Patton loses sight of him as he steps down to ground level, the crowd blocking his view. But Virgil keeps singing that line over and over, you are the only exception, as if imploring Patton to hear it and understand it and know it is meant for him. As if perhaps Virgil has to repeat it himself to fully believe in its truth, but each time he sings it, Patton can hear the conviction growing. Far ahead of him, Patton can see people shifting around in the mosh pit in front of him.

Patton doesn’t move. He doesn’t think he knows how to.

And then through the crowd of people in front of him steps Virgil, still playing. Still singing. And Patton can’t help but notice his eyes look wide and scared and vulnerable—but unwavering—as he sings the final line.

“But I’m on my way to believing…”

He plays the final chord and stands there, looking up at Patton. He’s so close. The guitar and a few inches is all that separates them. Patton swallows past the lump in his throat and brings a hand up to cup Virgil’s jaw before leaning his forehead against Virgil’s and whispering.

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyes are closed, so he doesn’t see Virgil’s relieved, crooked grin. But he feels it when Virgil presses his lips to his own.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #romantic moxiety #moxiety #romantic moxiety fanfiction #fluff #crowds #cursing #kissing #softness #sappiness #virgil sanders #patton sanders

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reddie-fangirl24 · 4 years

Note

Hey! I was wondering if you would be able to write a that 70s show crossover au from that episode where kelso finds out that Hyde and Jackie got together, but Bill is kelso, Hyde is Richie, and Jackie is Eddie?? Thank u!!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR COMMISSION!

Support me on my Ko-Fi!

“So, Bill, did a shark really eat your license?” A skeptical Beverly asked as she and the other Losers walked into the Denbrough kitchen. There wasn’t a day where they all weren’t taking up space in the Denbrough household. None of the other parents would let them do that. For most, it was a way to escape from their own houses.

Stanley froze up when he glanced outside the door. Eddie and Richie were making out in the driveway right then and there! Come on, didn’t they have some sense?

“What say we go see what’s on TV?” Ben tried to block the door. All summer, Bill was trying to get over his broken heart from Eddie. Eddie wanted so much and Bill didn’t believe that he could give him what he wanted. Running away to California didn’t do much other than making Bill realize how messed up the whole idea was.

Beverly went with him just to escape from her dad for the summer. She thought she could have gotten away with it all if her dad didn’t track her down. It took a day, but Stanley was able to convince Bill to come back home.

“Mike, w-weren’t you skeptical about it, t-too?” Bill didn’t register what was going on. Distracted, Mike nodded his head and tried to make Bill walk into the other room. Bill couldn’t help avoid smiling. Nor stuttering. Because he stopped attending therapy sessions to help him with his stutter, it returned much to his dismay.

Before continuing on with the rest of his story, Bill turned quiet, staring out the door into the driveway in disbelief.

“Why is Eddie kissing Richie?” he asked, not even stuttering. The way Bill said it made chills run up Beverly’s spine, making her nervously tangle her finger through her ginger hair. It reminded her of the way her dad spoke to her.

Have no idea what to tell him, the Losers looked away, ashamed about keeping Eddie and Richie’s relationship a secret from Bill. Up until now, they never kept secrets from one another.

How could Richie do this to him? The other night when Bill went to talk to Eddie about where their relationship stood all Eddie told him was that he wasn’t sure and that he had to think about it. He lied...

Storming towards the door, Bill struggled to open it. Out in the driveway, Eddie and Richie noticed the peculiar noise. In unison, they turned to look at Bill. Panicking when they saw how angry he looked, the couple ran away. Knowing Richie, he always ran into the Denbrough’s basement for safety. He was never fond of being in his own home.

“Open this fucking door! Why the fuck won’t it open?” Bill hollered, whacking at his own door.

“Bill, Bill,” Ben stepped in, putting one hand on Bill’s back in order to calm him. He was rapidly breathing a little too fast. He then easily slid the door open. Bill was in such a rage that he forgot how his own door worked. How embarrassing.

Racing out of the house, Bill ran down the step to the basement and banged on the door, twisting at the locked knob. “Open t-the door!”

“Bill stop!” Stanley yelled. His friends were right behind him.

“Let us explain!” Beverly added.

“You all knew and you didn’t tell me?” Bill spat, accusing them. Being accused was not something that Mike liked, making him back away a bit.

“Can we just talk this out?” Ben asked him. Talking was the best source. Bill was never the type to get into a physical altercation. Except once.

“I want to talk to Eddie and Richie!” Bill declared pointing at the locked door. He was fuming.

Beverly stepped in and knocked on the door (AKA her special code knock).

“Beverly?” Richie asked nervously on the other side of the door.

“Yes, it’s me,” she answered.

“Is Bill there?”

“No,”

“That’s a lie!”

Bill groaned. He couldn’t take this any longer. “Richie, can you please open the door? I need to talk to you and Eddie,” Bill told him as calmly as he could.

“Are you going to hit us?” He heard Eddie ask nervously.

“When have I ever hit you?”

Richie pulled the curtain in the window of the doorway back making a ‘duh’ look. “Do I really have to remind you about that?”

“I’m not going to hit you. Can we please just talk?” Bill begged. He really needed to. Because he was away for almost three months he felt do behind with all his friends. That felt so wrong of him to abandon them like that.

Especially when senior year of high school was looming around the corner. It wasn’t the first time he let them down. Bill wanted to punch himself knowing that he was better than that.

After a moment, the door to the basement opened. For safety, Richie held out the lid of garbage bin to protect him. Eddie sat up on the beat-up couch with his hands tucked between his lap. He was too guilty to look Bill in the eyes.

“How long?” Bill asked.

“Three months,” Richie answered, still continuing to shield himself.

“Are you kidding, asshole? Two and half months!” Eddie told him.

Rolling his eyes, Richie nodded. “What he said.”

Silent, Bill walked over and sat down with Eddie. Leaving was such a terrible idea and he wished that he could go back and erase it. If he stayed, he could have patched things up with Eddie.

“You all knew?” Bill didn’t even look up at the band of Losers. This was one of the first days in which they were all hanging out together as a group.

“Only for a couple of weeks,” Ben said.

“Yeah, they were keeping it a secret from us, too,” Mike added. He found out on accident when he walked into the Denbrough’s kitchen. Eddie and Richie tried to act as if they were practicing CPR to no avail.

“Bill, Richie and I wanted to talk to you,” Eddie told him.

“So, why d-didn’t you?”

“I tried to! When we were trying to get a new license because you lost it in the ocean,” Richie revealed. Not knowing that Bill was trying to cover that up with the shark story, Bill slapped his face in embarrassment. “But, I was afraid of what you’d say.”

Taking another breath, Bill got up from the sofa, walking over to Richie. For a few seconds, he just stared into his eyes as hot tears filled his eyes. He was the first friend that he ever made in kindergarten.

Lifting his fist, Richie didn’t flinch. He didn’t even shield himself with the trash barrel lid. “You got a free shot,” Richie told him. He even took off his glasses.

Bill’s mouth trembled. This was his best friend. He went to Richie for everything, even the time when he found out about Georgie’s... death. No matter what, Richie was always there to help him smile in the worst of times.

Giving in, Bill sat down in a nearby chair, staring hard into the floor. Everything was changing. It was all so unfair. He worried his parents which he didn’t even think about. Worse, Bill was their only son now so if they lost him it would be the end of the world.

Bill could only think back to the past when his parents refused to notice him in their grief over Georgie. Why couldn’t he travel back in time to when things were easier?

“We’re sorry, Bill,” Eddie apologized again, scooting closer to him. “I still want to be friends.”

“Look, Bill, we have to settle this,” Richie told him, matter of factly. “I-I didn’t plan on this. Well, maybe I had feelings for Eddie for a while, but how the fuck would I ever understand that? The point is, I love Eddie.”

The whole room lit up. Eddie’s mouth flew open, needing to grab his inhaler so he could breathe. Standing up, Eddie slowly walked over to Richie. “Y-You love me?”

Embarrassed, Richie looked away, but he nodded. He took his hand. “Yes.” And they kissed.

“AWW!” Beverly cooed at the scene, resorting a hand against her heart. This was like a scene from the movies.

“Get bent, Ringwald!” Richie yelled at her. As always, Beverly flipped him off.

Then, Richie turned his focus back to Bill. “Anyway, Bill, I want us to be cool,” he held out his hand. “Shake.”

Smiling lightly, Bill accepted. “Losers gotta stick together.”

Now that everything was fixed, the group of friends could take a breath after the heated argument. “So, what do you guys want to do now?” Stanley asked.

Richie looked towards the circular table. “You know, we haven’t had a group circle all summer.”

Eddie turned up his nose. Stanley did as well, relieved that they didn’t have to do what Richie was implying.

“You’re disgusting!” Eddie told him.

“Hey, you’re dating me!” Richie retorted.

#Reddie #The Losers Club #It 2017 #It Movie #Bill Denbrough #Richie Tozier #Eddie Kaspbrak #Beverly Marsh #Ben Hanscom #Mike Hanlon #Stanley Uris #IT Fanfiction #Crossover #That 70s Show

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winterknight1087 · 5 years

Text

Flower from the Fae (ch 1)

Chapter Title: Mushrooms Were Not the Plant I Was Looking For

Summary: Virgil likes plants, but when he goes to investigate a plant his friend Remy tells him about, he doesn’t exactly check out the plant. Little does he know that the handsome man he meets there is a fairy who is about to challenge the world Virgil knows.

Word Count: 1647

Chapter Warnings: cursing, poisonous mushrooms (no harm from though), death mention, anxiety attack, sympathetic deceit

Pairings: Eventual Romantic LAMP; Analogical

AO3 Link My Writing

A/N: Yeah, I’m not sure how this one happened, but writing this story has been fun. I have a couple other chapters in need of editing, so if you like this bit, be prepared for Virgil and Pat’s interaction.

Bzzt.

[Trenta4Sandman]: So? New trend or stale coffee? [sent at 1642]

Virgil rolled his eyes at the message before responding.

[Anx’sWitch]: you literally told me less than five min ago. I can’t just Apparate like you when you run out of coffee. [sent at 1643]

[Trenta4Sandman]: bitch u aint tryin hard enough then [sent at 1643]

[Anx’sWitch]: y don’t u go flirt w/ ur SO? [sent at 1644]

[HissHissMFs]: plz. I can’t concentrate on my work with u blowing my phone up. [sent at 1645]

The purple-haired man sighed as he pocketed his phone. There were more vibrations, telling him that the conversation was far from over, but he knew it wasn’t anything important. Remy and Dee could go back and forth for hours about nothing. Virgil could always check his phone later and see which he needed to visit later. Right now, he really only cared about finding the plant Remy told him about and seeing if it were something worth his time.

Of course, the hill Remy told him the plant was located on was almost three miles from the center of town. How he even stumbled upon it was beyond Virgil, not that he would bother questioning it either. What Virgil did know was that of his friend group, Remy had the best eye for finding him new and often times endangered plants. So, he struggled out of his house and on this disgusting walk to see whatever plant it was that Remy had seen.

The top of the hill had a giant sequoia tree, tall grass, and mushrooms. Virgil set his bag down under the tree before beginning to look over the plants, reveling in the silence. First, he looked at the mushrooms, duly noting that they appeared to be a poisonous species. Next, he started looking intently at the grass.

“How peculiar. Rare to find someone so intent on staring at grass.” A voice commented.

Terror ran through Virgil, but he pushed it deep down as he turned to look. Oh, great. There goes his poor little gay heart, he supposed. The voice belonged to some other-worldly man. He had well-kept black hair so dark it almost shone a dark blue. The eyes behind rectangular glasses were a brilliant blue that put even Virgil’s prized Black and Blue Sage plants to shame.

Remy is going to lose his shit when he finds out I died because I was too gay. Virgil thought dully.

“I apologize. I appear to have startled you.” The man commented.

“I…uhh…it’s… umm… well…”

The man raised an eyebrow to the gay mess. “Very eloquently put.”

“I… uhh… sorry… anxiety…” and you are too hot to be talking to me.

The man simply nodded. “I apologize again then. Do you require any assistance in lowering your adrenaline levels?”

What. “Ah, no, it’s alright… I’ll get over it.”

The man tilted his head looking over the scene of the poor man’s to-be death scene. “You appear to be searching for something. Might I inquire what you are searching for? I may be of some help in locating it.”

He really is trying to kill me; hot and nice? “Well… uh… a friend told me he… well, you’ll think it’s weird. I mean most people think I’m weird in general so that isn’t saying anything. It’s just not what most people would expect someone like me to be doing with their life, you know? Most people just don’t understand that it works and I enjoy it you know? But I can’t really blame them for thinking it’s weird.”

The man watched as Virgil began to spiral before kneeling and telling him to follow his breathing. He had never had to deal with what the other was undergoing, but he did enjoy research and anxiety was such a common thing among the human population that it was just a useful thing to understand. For that, he was glad as he helped the man control his breathing.

“Now, let’s try this again, without the down-spiral.” He commented to the purple-haired man. “Would you like me to help you find whatever it is you are looking for? If so, what would it be?”

“Well, my friend told me that there was a rare plant up here. Something with purple flowers.” Virgil answered awkwardly. “I’m a botanist who studies plants and from his description of it, it sounds to be an endangered plant.”

The man pursed his lips, thinking. Of course, he knew exactly which plant the human was speaking about, it was only a few feet from his hand. Yet, did he trust this random human not to harm one of the few of its species? Humans usually aren’t interested in plants just for the plants. Yet, this one did not appear to be lying to him. He’d heard of these botanists before, but this was his first meeting with one.

“Pardon this question, as I am not fully aware of what botanists do. What do you plan to do with it, if it is what you think it to be?”

“Oh… umm… well, first I tend to study new plants in their native environment. If it is the one I believe it to be, I would begin a process with the government to bring the specimen back to my greenhouse for conservation efforts where I can control threats, maintain a healthy environment, and breed it with other specimens. Botanists study plants and most attempt to promote their health.”

“So if you find this plant, it’ll be safe?”

“Great, you’re hot, kind, and care for plants,” Virgil muttered, to which the other man decided to pretend he did not hear, though he couldn’t stop the tint to his cheeks. “Yes, I do my best to ensure the safety and survival.”

The man still looked uncertain, and Virgil realized just how much this man seemed to care about the plant they were discussing. He thought before moving over to his bag to pull out his gloves. The man watched, now curious as to what the human was doing as Virgil moved towards a small bunch of mushrooms.

“Here, I can show you what it is I do,” Virgil said, with a fake confidence that he only had in his knowledge.

The other considered this before moving over. He glanced at the mushrooms, knowing exactly what type they were before looking at the human. Virgil nodded as he carefully maneuvered the fungi, double-checking what he had observed earlier.

“There are roughly four kinds of fungi here. These two are an invasive species that appear to be losing the battle for water, so they are less interesting for this partial study. My assumption is that a bird or another animal accidentally transported these here from their normal habitats. They are not remotely endangered, so I am content to let nature do what it will with them. These salmon pink ones are called marasius oreades or the Scotch bonnet. They are relatively safe and edible. These are traditionally arranged in a large circle and are the most commonly associated mushroom with the fairy circle folklore. On the other hand, these ones here are clitocybe rivulosa, or fool’s funnel, which are poisonous due to having deadly levels of muscarine.”

The other man sat there listening as Virgil went on one of his normal plant tangents, finding it easy to do so with the curious but intent look in the other’s eyes. Oh yes, Remy is going to lose it when he finds out later. Virgil found himself talking about the various mushrooms, one plant he really hasn’t been interested in before, while the man beside him began to ask different questions.

Neither was aware of the sun slowly setting until it became a bit too dark. If there’d been more light, the other would have noticed the blush on each cheek, but they pretended not to feel the flames on their faces.

“I apologize for taking so much of your time. I had intended to show you the plant I believe you to be looking for, but I became enthralled in your knowledge.” The man commented.

Stop being a useless gay mess, Virgil! “No, no. I should be the one apologizing. You probably weren’t looking for a long lecture on plants, much less on mushrooms of all things.”

“While I admit that it was not what I had intended on doing today, it was pleasurable listening to your knowledge.” The man paused before deciding on something. “I can tell you that if you come back before sunrise, you will be able to find the plant easily. One of my partners will probably be here as well if you would like to meet him. I am sure he will be thrilled to meet you… uh?”

“Oh… sorry. You can just call me Anx, he/him pronouns. Everyone does.” Virgil answered.

There is no way this human already knows who he was dealing with… was there? “Well, people refer to me as Logic, though my partners call me Lo.”

“Do you have a preference?”

The man looked over the purple-haired man. “You can call me Lo if you wish.”

“And do you have pronoun preferences? I forgot to ask earlier.”

“I am not particular. He/him work well enough.”

“Well, Lo. It was a pleasure to meet you.” Virgil said, with a small smile.

“Pleasure to meet your acquaintance as well, Anx.”

Virgil went to pick up his bag and turned back to ask if Lo wanted to walk back to town with him. Yet, the man was gone, without a sound to announce his departure. That took Virgil aback, but he did basically say goodbye, so maybe the other took it as his queue to leave. Oh well. Virgil pulled out his phone and saw that he had over two hundred messages, meaning Remy and Dee had really gotten into their fight.

Next Chapter

#Flower from the Fae #romantic lamp #tw deceit #sympathetic deceit #tw death mention #Virgil is too gay for life #mushrooms #tw anxiety attack #tw cursing #Sage writes

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hongism · 5 years

Text

Yoongi Imagine: Forget Me Not

this is coming out a little later than i originally hoped (thanks to calculus 2 -_-), so i apologize for that!

i hope you all enjoy it! sadly, i won’t be able to post as frequently for a little while since i’ve started a summer class, but i still hope to post things as i’m able to!

also, i’m almost 100% sure that Yoongi and Jin are no longer roommates, but for the sake of the story, this happens at a time when they were.

Requested

thank you so much for sending in a request! 💜

@vger91 said:

“If you're not too busy could you write 2, 62 , and 66? Only if you want to of course.”

“(2/2) Sorry, I forgot to ask if you could write it with yoongi. My bad. I'm typing on my phone and hit a wrong key. So Yoongi with 2, 62, and 66. Again sorry about that”

Prompts:

2: “Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.”

62: “If you can’t sleep…we could have sex?”

66: “How could I ever forget about you?”

Yoongi centered

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Words: 967

Warning: mild language

You jolt awake, body trembling from head to toe. Reality seeps into your skin and latches on, but the memories of the nightmare moments ago still reside there and suck reality into its grasp. You sit up, doing you best not to jostle the bed too much as you do not want to wake the man sleeping beside you. You can see nothing through the darkness; the blinds that cover the window allow no moonlight to filter through. Thus, you're left to be in your shaking state in the pitch blackness. Inhale, exhale. It's a bit difficult to breathe still, and it doesn't help that every time you close your eyes the dream returns.

The dream – nightmare, in actuality – consisted of many things, one after another until it reached its peak. You don't often suffer from nightmares, nor can you remember a time when one was this bad. You need light, something to show you that there's no one in the corner, nobody outside the door, no one trying to peak through the blinds in attempts to get you and hunt you down again. Your eyes are beginning to adjust to the darkness, and you see the outline of the form next to you. A small sigh of relief passes your lips.

Your hopes of not waking the person beside you waver as he begins to roll over, arm stretching out as though to wrap around you. When his hand finds the sheet instead of a body, he shifts again, swinging his hand around until it hits your back. He must realize that you're sitting up, because he snakes his arm to your stomach and tries to tug you back down against the mattress.

"What are you doing up?" He whispers against your cheek once you fall back against the mattress.

"I had a nightmare."

"About what?"

"Uh, I was being hunted in a dark forest by these strange people in masks. I kept trying to call out for help, but my voice wouldn't work so all I could do was run on and on in the darkness. I was so scared they'd catch u-up to me and—" you can feel your heart starting to race again, pressure building in your chest and making it difficult to breathe. Yoongi's hand finds your cheek, and he shifts your head so he can press his forehead against yours.

“Hey, hey, calm down. They can’t hurt you anymore.” His words soothe you some. Reaching out in the darkness, you grasp his hand and link your fingers with his.

"I'm sorry I woke you up. I didn't mean to."

"I'm glad you did, otherwise you would have been suffering alone." Yoongi increase the pressure of his grip on your hand. In the hazy night light, you see the slightest imprint of a smile on his lips.

"What time is it?"

"I have no clue, why?"

"I don't know if I can fall back asleep…if it's almost morning, maybe I should just get up now." Yoongi releases your hand and drapes his arm over you, tugging you closer until your face is buried in the crook of his neck.

“If you can’t sleep…we could have sex?” He suggests, breath tickling your ear.

"Yoongi, no."

"Why not?"

"Because Jin is sleeping on the other side of the room!" You whisper-yell as you pull your head back.

"We can be quiet – well, I can, not sure about you."

"Yoongi!" You're glad for the darkness now, otherwise he would see how scarlet your cheeks have become.

"This is why we need to sleep at your place."

"I have a roommate too," you protest, gently slapping his shoulder.

"But not in the same room as you." You release a huff of laughter, relaxing against the pillow again. Yoongi's hand remains on your waist even as you flip onto your back and stare at the ceiling. His thumbs rubs gentle circles against your skin. You blame the late (or early?) hour and the fact that you tend to get sentimental the later it is, because your eyes begin to sting.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Yoongi," you whisper without looking at him.

"Huh?" He must have been dozing off again already, but your statement brings him back instantly.

"If I didn't have you, I have no clue what my life would be like. The scary thing is that one day, I might have to face that reality."

"You won't."

"You can't say that with such confidence, Min Yoongi. It's always a possibility. One day, we could break up and move on with our lives separately. That scares me more than anything, because it means that one day, you could forget about me. Who I am, who I was, the memories we made together, the feelings we have now…it could all be gone for you, and I'll be alone with it all."

"Stop. Don't talk like that. You think I could ever forget you? How could I ever forget about you? You're the best damn thing that's ever happened to me. I don't deserve you. I should be the one worried about losing you, not the other way around. I'm not going anywhere. I would fight for you to my last breath if that's what it takes. Don't think that I would ever give up on you or what we have so easily."

"Okay," you say, trying to hold back how overwhelmed his words make you.

"That doesn't sound very confident."

"Min Yoongi, I believe you and trust you with my whole heart." You hear his quiet laugh, then his breath hits your cheek. He kisses you there once, twice, three times before landing a kiss on your lips as well. "I love you too." You laugh as well, knowing the meaning behind his kisses.

written by: jungtaeyoongles

gif belongs to its original owner

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philthepegacornfics · 5 years

Text

“Are you Lost?” Part 2

Soul Eater x Reader

Word count:

Trigger Warnings: (Y/n)’s mom is deceased

A/N: So the last part got a lot more notes than I expected. So here’s part 2. I hope you like it!

Part 1

“Greeting Lord Death,” Maka smiled at him.

“Ahh, Maka! How can I help you?” Lord Death asked, bouncing a bit.

“Oh, I don’t need anything, sir. I was just helping (Y/n) find their way,” she explained.

“That’s right!” Lord Death exclaimed. “(Y/n) it’s so good to finally meet you. How are you?”

“I’m doing good. It’s nice to finally meet you as well. And I’m so so so sorry that I’m late! This school is so confusing. The lay out is really weird. Well, not weird but just so symmetrical you can’t tell where you’re going. It is a beautiful school, Lord Death. I’m sorry, I just got lost,” I stumbled over my words.

“There is no issue there. Now tell me, are you a Meister of a Weapon?” He asked me.

“I’m a Weapon.”

“Good, good! Now where is your Meister?”

I looked down at my feet before answering him. “ I don’t have one.” I glanced at Maka before continuing, “But I prefer to fight on my own.”

“Is that so?” Lord Death mused.

“Mhmm. I’ve actually trained under Justin Law for about a year before I applied.”

Mentioning the blonde hair, blue eyed, wonder-boy Weapon made me remember our training days. Making me blush a little bit.

He was there when my mother passed from fighting the kesian egg. Even though he wasn’t much older than me he took me in. Picked up my training where Mom left off. He would be proud to see me standing here being accepted into the school. He would be cheering for me, embarrassing me if he was here.

A gasp came from Maka that pulled me out of my train of thoughts. She must’ve realized who I was talking about after being able to think for a moment.

“Very well,” Lord Death put his two enormous white hands together. “I’ve decided that you’ll be joining the Crescent Moon Class. Now run along so you’re not more late than you already are.”

I turned to follow a beaming Maka out of the Death Room. As soon as we were back on the guillotine path, Maka spoke. “I’m so happy you got put into my class! I can’t wait for you to meet everyone. Oh, and Kid is in that class as well.”

“Well at least I know I have a friend in my class,” I smiled.

We walked for a bit longer and passed the “Sun Room” and the board, bringing us to the “Crescent Moon Room”.

“Class is in here,” Maka said opening the door.

Looking in the room there was a bunch of students in a half circle around the teacher. All of the faces had some form of horror or disgust on them.

The teacher sitting in the middle of the room was smoking a cigarette. He had gray hair pass his eyes and a giant screw going through his head. He was holding a scalpel in his hand and was ready to cut into, what appeared to be, a bird that was strapped down to the table in front of him.

“Maka, you’re late.” He turned his head towards us. It allowed me to see stitching going down his face and off under his left eye. “And what’re you doing here?”

“Sorry Professor Stein, I was in Lord Death’s office. (Y/n),” Maka gestured toward me, “is a new student here. I was helping them around.”

“I see. Very well, have a seat Maka.” He then pointed at me and said, “you come up here and introduce yourself.”

Maka gave me a gentle smile before she walked over to her seat. She sat next to a boy with white hair that spiked out to his left. He was wearing a headband that helped him keep his hair out of his face. He had crimson red eyes that made eye contact with me. Once he did, he gave me a smile that revealed his shark-like teeth. I smiled back then made my way toward the professor.

“State your name,” the professor instructed me.

“(Y/n).”

“Are you a Weapon or a Meister?”

“Weapon.”

“Where is your Meister?”

“I don’t have one. Like Justin Law, I prefer to fight by myself.”

Professor Stein started turning the screw in his head before saying, “Interesting. What is your weapon form?”

“I’m a pair of kamas that can connect together to make a double ended-like scythe. The blades can also fold down. One for a regular scythe. Two for a staff.”

“Hmm… a very versatile weapon.” He started cranking his screw again. He then tilted his head as he continued to stare at me. Light was reflecting off of his glasses so I couldn’t see his green eyes. Which made his wide tooth bearing smile stand out even more.

He looks maddened

I took a step back as he stared through me.

“Through observation, I doubt I can wield you. Isn’t that right (Y/n)?”

I nodded.

“Would Maka be an okay fit?” he asked.

Both Maka and the white haired boy looked at me curiously at the mention of her name. I paused for a moment to think.

Do I trust her? She did help me find my way. And she’s really nice. Maybe she can wield me…

I took a deep breath and tried to put more of my trust into her. I quickly nodded toward Stein.

“Maka, come up here so we can see (Y/n) in her weapon form.”

Maka walked up next to me and whispered, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s do this,” she smiled at me encouragingly. “Start with the staff. I’m a Scythe Meister, so we’ll work our way backwards from you list.”

I smiled at her and jumped into the air, transforming into a staff. Maka caught me. She examined my (f/c) form, tilting me back and forth. Once she got use to the weight, she spun me around.

“Scythe mode!” she called out.

I released one of my (2/f/c) blades as she still spun me. Suddenly she rolled me over her shoulder and attacked the air. A wave of (f/c) was seen moving a few feet away from my blade.

Maka’s a powerful Meister.

Maka paused and looked a little stunned. The rest of the students looked amazed as well. Professor Stein was still smiling.

The boy with the white hair stood up and yelled, “Hey, why don’t you ever do that with me?”

He must be Maka’s weapon.

“Shut up, Soul!” she yelled back.

The boy sat back down and crossed his arms.

“Please continue,” Professor Stein spoke.

Maka nodded and started spinning me again and called out, “Double sided scythe!”

I released my other blade and Maka slowed down, trying to adjust to the other blade. After a moment she stopped spinning me and called out, “Kamas.”

I concentrated and split my physical being into two. I heard a few gasps from the crowd of students who saw that I didn’t have a chain keeping me together.

Maka seemed at a loss of how to use me. When I looked at her, her eyes seemed different. The green was darker and her pupils were bigger. She gasped softly as she stared at me.

“You see it too,” Professor Stein observed. “Their soul became two and they’re connected by their own wavelengths.”

“Throw one,” I instructed Maka, wanting to show off.

“Huh? Why?” she asked.

“Just do it.”

She did as I asked with the part of me that was in her left hand. Before I even hit the ground I pulled myself back toward a surprised Maka. Who almost didn’t catch me.

The rest of the class gasped. Professor Stein’s smile returned, even bigger somehow. I took it as my queue to turn back into my human form. Once I did some people in the class clapped very shortly. I couldn’t help but blush. Maka gave me another smile that I couldn’t help but return it.

“Very impressive (Y/n). Your soul and its wavelength is strong. Not to mention your ability to amplify both yours and your Meister’s and turn it into an attack itself,” the professor said.

“Professor Stein, is that what the energy wave was?” Maka asked.

“Yes,” I answered for him. “I can sometimes do it on my own too, but never that strong.”

She had an amazed look on her face and Professor Stein instructed us to go take a seat so he could continue with his dissection.

I sat down on Maka’s left while the white haired boy sat on her right.

“Hey, I’m Soul,” he introduced himself.

“Soul? As in we all have souls? S-O-U-L?” He nodded at my questions while he and Maka let out a small laugh. “That’s such a cool name!” I continued.

Soul scratched the back of his neck. A light pink dusted his cheeks, making his crimson eyes stand out even more against his pale appearance.

“It was… uhh… pretty cool what you did up there,” he complimented.

“Thank you,” I smiled while some heat rose to my cheeks.

“Liz, Patty, where’s Kid?” Maka suddenly spoke up.

Oh yeah, I forgot that Maka said that he was in this class.

The taller of two girls wearing the matching outfits spoke up, “I believe he went to the library. Said he had to look up something important.” She then continued to paint her nails a tint of purple.

“Do you know what he-” I was cut off by Professor Stein.

“Next person who speaks gets a scalpel in them.”

All of us stopped talking and started paying attention to the lesson.

#soul eater x reader #soul eater #soul evans x reader #death the kid x reader #kid x reader #maka albarn x reader

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ptilopseth · 5 years

Text

LiSETH ft. wingman marina

hi guys i finally wrote a thing, it’s kinda dumb, RIP mobile users

[LISA🎸: Omg! Haha really

Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: yeah there were no lights in there either Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: blake had to bring in richs studio light it was great Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: i mean at least the coffee was good??

LISA🎸: What kind of coffee was it??

Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: snickerdoodle. and cookies too that shit slapped

LISA🎸: Nice!! I think I'm going to make snickerdoodle cookies for Roselia's next practice LISA🎸: Do you want to help?

Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: hell yeah brother! save some for the sound guy :p

LISA🎸: Haha of course! Next practice is Wednesday so I was thinking about getting a head start tomorrow LISA🎸: Are you off?

Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: later in the day yeah, popipa wants to do a gig at circle in the evening Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: if u meet me at circle around like 6ish we can get started Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: anything i should bring

LISA🎸: Sounds good!✨ LISA🎸: Nope! I have everything I need

Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: hell ya.. im gonna bip now since i kinda gotta be up early for prep or else marinas gonna poon me

LISA🎸: Night! Good luck with PoPiPa tomorrow💙

Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: kasumis a handful but the rest of them are okay gsdkjghk Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: night!!💚]

"Cheers!" All five members of Poppin' Party, plus Seth and Marina, clink their plastic glasses together in celebration of another successful live show. Kasumi, ecstatic as always, gets half a smile from Arisa, who pleads for Saya to help her. O-Tae and Rimi make small-talk about how they can synchronize their instruments more, while Marina and Seth make idle talk while Seth packs up. "Where are you going, Seth? I thought you liked to stay behind for a little bit." "Prior reservation, Marina." Seth zips his signature green backpack up and hoists it onto a shoulder. "I normally would, but this is really important." "Like, bad important?" "Nah. Just important." Marina raises an eyebrow. It's rare that Seth leaves early, but when he does, it's critical business. "What'cha doing, then? If you don't mind me asking." "Baking cookies." "With who?" "That's classified information." "Just tell me who." "No." "Why not?" "You're going to bully me about it." "I am not! Just tell me who it is." "Lisa." Marina laughs. "Lisa? I knew you liked her- I just didn't expect you two to be going on a date this early." "Shut the fuck up, Marina. I hate you." Seth takes a sip of his drink- Brisk raspberry tea- to cover the fact that he's clearly very flustered. "What's wrong with liking Lisa? You two would be cute together!" "Yukina and Sayo would probably kill her, Ako's a wild card, and Rinko... Rinko's fine. But the first two of them would get mad." "Why?" "They'd be all like, oh, 'Lisa, you're no longer totally dedicated to Roselia, either dump him or dump the band.' And I don't wanna be the reason she has to give up Roselia." "There's no guarantee they'd be mad, Seth. I mean, those reactions are a little in-character, but- it's best to be honest, you know?" "I do know." Seth opts to look at his drink instead of Marina. "I just don't wanna be honest." "Seth..." The person in question picks his head up. "Aren't you and Lisa already great friends? Her face lights up when she sees you! I can tell she's interested in what you like- I mean, she asked for another one of your Letterbomb shirt, right? And she always saves a pastry for you after practices. I think she's already a step ahead of you." "I hate when you're right." "Heh. Of course you do. Just ask her out, you big idiot." "No promises." The doorbell of CiRCLE rings, and in walks Lisa herself, dressed in her usual casualwear plus a fluffy beige coat and small messenger bag to serve as her purse. "Hiya, Lisa!" Kasumi says, turning to wave to her. Lisa gives an enthusiastic wave back, complete with her signature smile, before heading on over to where Marina and Seth are milling about." "Hey, you two! How was it?" Lisa asks, bubbly as ever. "Smashing success. Initial sounded fantastic." Seth replies. Marina nods in agreement. "Do you need help with anything, Marina? Just while I'm here, you know." "Nope. You're free to go." Marina nudges Seth in the arm as a sort of "go have fun on your date" message. "Okay! You ready, Seth?" "I've never baked before, but I'm sure I can figure it out." Seth finishes his tea and begins to walk out of CiRCLE with Lisa, throwing away his cup near the door. "Seth!" Marina calls as he's just about to exit. Seth, as well as Lisa, turn around, to see Marina giving an enthusiastic thumbs-up to her sound engineer. Seth replies with a thumbs-down, to which Marina shakes her head. Seth and Lisa turn back around. "What was that?" Lisa asks. "Dunno." Seth shrugs, and the two of them continue walking towards Lisa's place. [bandori 'five minutes later' introduction card] "-So I guess there were some hitches with Kasumi's vocals at the end, but I think that's 'cause I set the gain too high and just forgot to change it. Like- their vocals all go into separate channels, so there's no way I would've, like, turned it up for Rimi's part and forgot to have changed it, but, like, who knows." "I'm glad it went well, though. Didja have fun?" "Oh- yeah, of course. I'm kinda sad you weren't able to be there for Initial. it was fuckin' great." "I know, right? I remember hearing it when you drove me to school the other day. Which, by the way- thank you." "Oh, no problem. And Garret says I drive the Slowbalt..." Seth sighs, remembering how the two of them still arrived to school at eight despite Lisa saying she was running over that morning. Lisa laughs, and the two of them continue walking until Lisa pipes up as they reach her house. "Um, Seth?" Lisa stops walking, and Seth follows suit. "Yeah?" "Can we talk? It's nothing bad, I promise." "Huh? Yeah, sure. What's poppin'?" "Well... Yukina might get mad at me for doing this, but... I really like you. And I was wondering... if you wanted to be my boyfriend?" "Uh- I mean- I, uh- hm." "Sorry." "No, no! I just- I don't want to get you kicked out of Roselia. Because I know they mean a lot to you, and I didn't know how Yukina would react, and... you really care about me that much?" "Of course I do, or else I wouldn't have asked." "I... do want to be your boyfriend, Lisa. I love you." Lisa flashes a bright smile at Seth. "I love you too."

[LISA🎸: Thanks for helping me tonight! Couldn't have done it without you✨

Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: no problem

LISA🎸: You ok?

Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: brainfreaked over being ur bf

LISA🎸: Sorry haha LISA🎸: If it makes you uncomfortable we can work something out

Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: no no that's not it, dw! its just weird Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: bassist of roselia and the sound engineer of circle dating.. wack timeline

LISA🎸: I don't think so LISA🎸: Do you mean that like 'I can't believe Lisa and I got together' or?

Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: ya

LISA🎸: Aw Seth :( LISA🎸: Don't say stuff like that LISA🎸: I wouldn't have fallen in love with you without lots of good reasons LISA🎸: I can list them even

Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: fire away

LISA🎸: Well you're super smart- you're taking three math classes after all LISA🎸: You know a billion more things about sound engineering than I do and that's saying something LISA🎸: You're super creative and I love seeing your stuff even if you don't like it LISA🎸: (BTW that last part of Letterbomb was really good, I think you did a good job with the fight scene) LISA🎸: And you're funny too, not to mention cute LISA🎸: There's a million things I see in you that you might not see in yourself LISA🎸: But I'm here to remind you of those things!⭐️

Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: [crying_cat.jpeg] Space Ishtar's Boyfriend: thank u sm lisa ilu

LISA🎸: No problem!! I love you💙]

#rip formatting #text #fic #LiSETH #kiseki ~ sunkissed rhodonite

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mistymark · 6 years

Text

the one with the summer job [part one] // l.j.n

lee jeno x reader // summer camp au // 5.4k words

in which y/n needs work placement and finds herself working in an infirmary helping little kids, and one very injured jeno // masterlist // part of the Hideaway Hollow series // warnings: none? probably swearing, knowing me // part 1 of 4

“Why, why, why did I choose biomed, again?” You sighed, dropping your head onto the textbook that lay expectantly in front of you. Your friend hit you on the shoulder with her pen as you reached into your hoodie pocket to retrieve your phone, checking the time. You closed your eyes when you realised it was almost 11, the stress and panic having taken its toll on you. The library was open until the early hours of the morning, and there were still groups of students at every table studying intently, cups of cold coffee and energy drinks beside them, littered on the floor surrounding them, and in their backpacks.

“Because you’re a kind, smart individual who wants to help others feel better,” you friend stated optimistically, trying to push your head from where it lay against the textbook. Your notebook and various sheets of notes were sprawled around you, and, like the other students, an empty cup sat sadly beside your laptop. “Have you decided where you want to work over the summer?” she asked, leaning back in her chair and watching you expectantly.

“No,” you moaned miserably, having forgotten about the summer work positions until this very moment, being so focused on your studies. “Have you found yours?”

She jumped excitedly in her seat, “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You know how Dad owns those summer camps for kids that go on over the break?” She continued when you nodded your head, your forehead still pressed against the cool pages of your medicine textbook, “He said he could get me a work position there, running the books and everything.”

You looked up at your best friend proudly, “That’s fantastic! And working at a summer camp will be awesome, at least you’ll have people of all ages there.” You suddenly wished you had studied accounting like her, but remembering how bad you were when you took the subject in high school made you glad you’d chosen a subject you understood, even though it wasn’t really evident at the moment, as you had previously been rereading your notes, looking lost.

“It gets better!” She was practically bouncing in her seat now, and her excitement was spilling over to you, causing you to be eager for her to continue, “One of the assistant like, nurse people, just got sick and can’t come on camp ‘cause he might infect the other campers, right? Which means… there’s a position available for an assistant in the infirmary. And, if you want it, it’s yours!”

You were so grateful for your best friend right then, leaning over and hugging her tightly, “You’re such an angel, oh my God, of course I accept, thank you so much! And thank your dad for me, too. Oh my God, this is so much better than the GP office I was going to apply for.”

“I’ll get Dad to send you all the forms, though I technically may have already signed you up, so there shouldn’t be much for you to do,” she shot you a grin as she pulled out her laptop from its case, excitedly tapping her nails against its surface.

“Hey, babe,” your friend greeted you on the phone happily, and you smiled at the sound of her voice. She sounded distracted as she ‘uhh’d into the microphone.

“Hi, I don’t think I’ll be able to get there in time for orientation,” you said, dragging a heavy suitcase down the last flight of stairs in your building, looking up sadly at the other one that remained at the top of the staircase, glaring down at you.

“Oh no, what happened?” She asked, her attention suddenly on you.

“I can still come!” you reassured her. “I have to meet with one of my professors this morning before the break, because I might become a TA, but if I leave straight after I can make it there at around 11 tonight, and then do the orientation tomorrow morning, right?”

“I’m sure that’s fine,” she said, her voice suddenly distant, as if she had pushed the phone away from her face. “Sorry, I’m trying to help Dad organise his office now that everyone else is here… Did I mention this was the camp I attended?”

You smiled, rushing back up the stairs to grab your last suitcase, “You may have mentioned it a few times in the last couple of weeks. Anyway, I should go, but I’ll see you tonight!”

“Okay, I’ll wait up for you,” she grunted as she lifted something and then pulled the phone closer to her mouth, “Get here as soon as, Dad hired a lot of very attractive staff this year.” You could practically hear the smirk on her face.

“He certainly did,” a guy’s voice suddenly yelled into your ear, and you pulled the phone away at the sudden loud noise.

There was laughter on the other end of the phone, as your best friend’s voice returned, “Sorry, that was Jungkook, he’s one of the senior staff, don’t worry, you’ll meet him when you arrive, I’m sure. I’ll see you tonight, y/n, can’t wait!”

You said your goodbyes and hung up, grabbing your bags and pulling them out to your car, opening the trunk and loading everything up and then checking your watch to see how much time you had before your interview with your professor.

There was a ding in your pocket and you pulled out your phone, reading a text from your friend, ‘i forgot to tell u to bring a sleeping bag, you’ll need one xx’.

“Y/n!” There was a loud shout from the wraparound verandah of a large wooden cabin, and you saw your best friend sprinting down the few steps and out to meet your car as you parked. You got out of your car quickly, switching off the engine before getting out and hugging her. When you retracted your arms, you looked around the camp, unable to see very much in the dark light. She gestured for you to follow her into one of the largest cabins, “This is the administration office, and basically where I’ll be living for the next two months, but I’m just going to quickly let Dad know you’re here.”

She disappeared around a corner and you were left on the cute porch alone, the only outdoor porch with a light, apparently. You grabbed your suitcases, backpack, pillow and sleeping bag and dumped them on the deck as quietly as possible before sitting on the steps. Where you were from, there was a lot of light pollution, so you weren’t able to see many stars at night, but here… there were so many, and they were all so bright. You stared in awe at the night sky.

You looked at the sky until your friend came back, “Come on, I’ll show you where the staff stay.”

“We don’t stay in there?” You asked, gesturing to where she had gone.

“No, only the really important, like, senior staff stay there,” she grabbed one of your suitcases and your pillow, already lugging it away towards the staff cabin. “There’s always a light on so that campers can find their way if they’re really ill or lost or something, I don’t really know.” She shrugged, cocking her head in the direction she was walking, gesturing for you to follow her.

“How many people are staying in this cabin?” You walked beyond a path that led to 10 cabins, all arranged in a semi-circle around a fire pit. You noticed a light on in one of them, but you walked past nonetheless.

“Not many, but there are separate rooms, so you and I will be rooming together,” she spun in a circle to shoot you a happy smile, and your mood was instantly lifted knowing that you wouldn’t be sharing a bedroom with strangers for two months. When you finally arrived at the cabin, you realised it was nothing like the cabins you’d seen back at the main part of the camp, but rather one much larger, more modern version. The cabin was still made of wood, but there were three storeys, and the ground floor had a fully furnished kitchen and a large living room, complete with comfortable-looking couches and a flat screen TV, and what looked to be a gaming console.

The two of you silently agreed to go straight to bed, and she reminded you that you had to be awake early for a brief orientation in the morning by the Head Leaders, who “are, like, in charge of the other team leaders but they’re not senior enough to be actual counsellors or directors, so they’re still monitored and everything…yeah”.

The next morning, you woke up and drearily pulled yourself from your cosy bed, moving slowly to the bathroom to get dressed and ready for the day. You noticed an orange shirt had been placed on the end of your bed sometime throughout the night, but when you looked over to your friend for more information, you discovered she was still fast asleep.

You got dressed quickly and quietly, trying not to disturb your sleeping best friend and left the cabin with the soft click of the door, making sure you had your room key with you. Downstairs, the older staff were eating their breakfasts, a feast of eggs and bacon, cereals, different kinds of toast and pancakes. They all greeted you merrily, wearing similar camp shirts to you, but instead of being orange, they were all wearing a deep pine green colour. You suddenly felt very obviously out of place. Older men and women bustled about, grabbing their breakfasts and things for the day before leaving to head to the main camp, but a group of younger-looking guys sat at a large wooden kitchen table.

Awkwardly, you sat down next to a guy in a black jacket and cap, his green shirt peeking out from the collar, and grabbed some toast, reaching over him, “Sorry.”

He laughed good-naturedly, “No need to apologise.” He pulled his hand up from under the table, “I’m Jungkook.”

You raised your eyebrows in shock, before grinning easily back at him and shaking his hand, “Oh! I’m Y/n, I believe we spoke on the phone?”

He smiled at you and nodded, “Did you just get here? I swear I didn’t see you yesterday.”

“Oh, I arrived late last night. I have to meet the Head Leaders at the administrations cabin in ten minutes, but I don’t know where it is,” you said shyly, continuing to eat your toast.

“Easy, we can show you,” he gestured to the group of guys surrounding him at the table. “This is Taehyung, Jimin, Hobi and Yoongi. We’re all semi-experienced, so if you need anything we can definitely help you.”

You smiled thankfully at them, “Wow, that’s so nice of you guys, thank you. Do any of you know who’s working in the infirmary? I haven’t met anyone.”

The guy Jungkook had introduced as Hobi stuck his hand up excitedly, “I am! There’s two experienced doctors that we have on call, but I’m your first aid man. You’ve got experience, right? If you’re working the infirmary this year?” You nodded, and, if it was possible, his smile got bigger, “Great! The last guy we had in the infirmary was absolutely useless, he had no first aid training at all and- “

“Hey!” One of the other boys, Yoongi, you thought, spoke up, leaning over the table to hit Hobi. “I wasn’t that bad! And I was filling in for someone, it’s not like I was meant to be there.”

The rest of the boys were laughing, until Jimin grabbed his phone and said, “Oh shit, Y/n, you’re going to be late if you don’t leave now. Jungkook, you take her to the admin cabin, Taehyung and I can clear up everything.”

You shouted out a quick ‘thank you!’ as Jungkook pushed you out the door, walking speedily towards the main part of camp. In the day light, you could see the whole camp, and you were mesmerised. The cabins that you had seen arranged in a semi-circle all had different coloured rooves, and a sign above the doorway painted with the cabin’s name. The fire pit was black from a recent fire, and the lake beyond sparkled invitingly. Each cabin was a clean, light coloured wood, and they stood proudly, awaiting their campers.

You could see some of the team leaders sitting in the mess hall as the door opened, and two emerged, one tall, older looking boy and a much shorter girl, who talked to him animatedly. Your friend was right, they had hired very attractive staff this year.

Jungkook saw you watching them with interest and waved, “Hey! Jisoo, Jeno! Morning!”

They both looked your way and smiled, calling back greetings. You met Jeno’s eyes, and gave him a small, shy wave before continuing to follow Jungkook’s lead to the Main Cabin, feeling the weight of them both looking at you.

Jungkook dropped you off at Main Cabin’s entrance, before walking inside to begin his own work. He’d told you cheekily whilst you were walking that he wanted to get in early and take all the fun activities for the summer before his older friends got them. He saluted you as he walked past again, wishing you good luck as the two Head Leaders walked up towards the porch.

“Hi, you must be Y/n,” the boy said, giving you an innocent smile and handing you a clipboard with all the information you required for the summer on it. “I’m Mark, and this is my co-Head Leader, n/n.”

The girl shook your hand politely and begun to explain the basics of the camp and your tasks for the summer, and you listened eagerly. You learnt that the two of them were similar in age to you, and were also currently studying at college, which meant that the three of you got along really well.

They dropped you off at the infirmary, a quaint cabin with large windows and a beautiful view of the lake; the back porch hung out over the water slightly. Hobi was already there waiting for you, and he made sure to say goodbye to the Leaders before explaining more thoroughly what your roles in the infirmary were. “It kind of sucks that if a kid gets food poisoning at 2am, we have to be awake to deal with it, and let me tell you, it happens more than it should, but other than that, infirmary’s not that big of a deal,” Hobi shrugged, before flipping open a clipboard that contained a checklist of supplies that were required in the cabin.

“Do you need help with that?” you asked, eyeing the clipboard of at least ten sheets of paper, each with a list of materials. Inventory had to be a boring, monotonous job.

He looked up from his list, smiling at you, “Oh, yes, thank you.” As you worked, you learnt more about Hobi, and he was happy to discuss his college life, as well as the partner he had back in the city, and how he had met all of his best friends through this camp. You smiled softly as you listened, thoroughly going through the cupboards, and making sure to respond to his questions.

You were pretty happy to say that working in the infirmary was really fun, and despite most days being slow, you almost always had a kid come in by lunch time with a red face and a distressed team leader. By the second week of camp, you’d met almost every staff member, spent your lunchtimes with your best friend on the lake’s jetty eating delicious meals prepared by one of the cooks, and developed new and exciting friendships with the older staff. You had to admit; this summer program was a fantastic idea.

It only got better when you’d run into Jeno. You’d seen him around quite a bit, and were lucky enough to have dinner with the team leaders every night, and you couldn’t help the growing attraction you had towards the guy. He would always smile at your warmly as he passed you, his eyes turning into small crescent moons, and he always made sure to include you in the conversations the Team Leaders were having, making sure to always sit beside you at mealtimes.

On the Thursday of your second week in the infirmary, he’d brought in a sobbing nine year old boy, who’d hurt his wrist during archery. Hobi checked over the injury with ease, and the boy was smiling and eating a lollipop happily within fifteen minutes.

That meant you had fifteen minutes to talk to Jeno, uninterrupted. He was pretty distracted, constantly checking over your shoulder to monitor his camper’s injury, but when you assured him it was probably just the string of the bow hitting it too many times, he relaxed.

“He’s going to be fine, you know,” you stated, moving to stand beside him and providing an unobstructed view of Hobi and the younger boy.

“I know,” Jeno said, before glancing at you, a small smile making its way onto his face. “It’s just that… Philip’s my favourite.”

You were confused for a moment, before realising that the boy’s name must be Philip, and you laughed, “Ah, so your worry isn’t for his health, it’s just panic that your favourite won’t like you anymore.”

He fought back his smile, instead feigning hurt, “No, I care very deeply for all my campers, how dare you accuse me of favouritism.” He made a silly face as he spoke, and you noticed the green wristband on his arm slid down as he crossed his arms over his chest.

This caused you to giggle and you tried to be quiet as to not distract Hobi, “Sure, Greenie. Not to be rude, but I’m pretty sure either Red or Orange are like, guaranteed to win camp favourite this year.”

He turned to look at you, furrowing his eyebrows, “You know about camp favourites?”

Now it was you that feigned hurt, “I’m new, I’m not an idiot. And, yeah, you know y/f/n? Her Dad runs the place, so I’ve heard quite a bit about it.”

“Ah, well,” he began pacing the small space distractedly as he talked, swinging his legs as he turned around, “Jaemin’s partner, the Red Leader, was camp favourite last year, and she’s determined to win it again this year, but Jaemin’s super competitive and wants to beat her. I’m pretty sure he’s just using it as an excuse to flirt with her, though.”

You smiled, having seen them together around camp, oftentimes looking to be flirting, but you were never certain, as you were pretty sure Jaemin flirted with anything that had a pulse, including the older staff, the guys (I mean, hey, you could respect if he swung that way) and yourself.

“You’re all good to go, little buddy,” Hobi gave Philip a high five and let him walk towards Jeno, a lollipop hanging from his mouth. Hobi then pulled out a small form that needed filling out from a drawer, giving the details of the injury and what he did to help, ready to give it to Main at the end of the day.

“Jeno, can we go back to archery now?” Philip whined, now apparently eager to do it again.

Jeno nodded and grinned at you, heading for the exit to follow the younger boy out, before spinning around at the last moment, “You’re coming to the bonfire tomorrow night, yeah?”

You looked up from your work, “Uh, yeah, I think so.”

He nodded, “Good.”

“I can’t believe that’s the first group gone,” your best friend stated, watching as the last of the cars drove out of the carpark, the parents pulling onto the main road with excited children in the back seat. One kid waved to her as she stood on the porch, whilst you sat comfortably on the steps.

“I can’t believe how accident prone kids are,” you said, rifling through the pages Hobi had given you to hand off the Admin Senior Squad (also known as the ASSes), which, in your opinion, was really poorly named by Taehyung.

Your friend turned on you, “Lighten up, tonight is the first big bonfire, and we’re going night swimming!”

“In the lake?” you asked, suddenly unsure. Your years of science classes had taught you about the many hazards that could be present in the lake’s water. You wrinkled your nose at the thought.

“Where else?” she raised an eyebrow at you. “Come on, it can’t be that bad. Besides, you’ll get to see Jeno shirtless.”

You were taken aback by her comment, physically shying away from her, “I don’t- I wasn’t – what are you talking about?”

She laughed, “You forget I’ve known you for years. I can tell when you’re into someone.”

You straightened your back, uncomfortably stretching your neck in order to clarify, “I’m not INTO him, I just think he’s cute.”

“Sure, Y/n, and I’m secretly hooking up with a staff member,” she sighed, a small smile evident on her face, stepping inside Main. “Do you want to go to the girls’ sleepover tonight? I’m pretty sure Pink is hosting once everyone’s cleaned up their cabins.”

You shrugged, “Yeah, sounds good. I’ve missed having girls my age around. And, before you say anything, you’re like 85 at heart, so, no, you don’t count.”

She pulled a face and hit you lightly across the arm, “Whatever. Oh, are you busy tonight? If Hobi hasn’t got you doing anything, can you drop of the spare toiletries to all the cabins? Dad wants me to do the rounds, but I haven’t finished the finances for this week and he’ll kill me if I don’t get at least one thing finished.” You laughed with her, nodding and stepping up to grab the bag of toilet amenities; soaps, toilet paper, paper towel, cleaning wipes, fragrant spray, and small first aid replacements – all simple necessities that each cabin was required to be equipped with.

You started at Pink cabin, which was directly opposite White, the cabins holding the seven and eight year olds. You presumed it was best to keep them separated, as they were oftentimes the loudest of all the cabins, from what you’d seen in the past two weeks. The Head Leader opened the door and looked as if she were about to cry, and you immediately stepped inside to help. The cabin was a right mess; you were unsure how such a mess could be left after all the kids had cleared out, taking all their belongings with them.

“Can you take the mattress protectors for me, please?” She asked, struggling to scrape off a hard, previously very sticky substance, on the floor of the cabin.

“Of course, I’ll do it during my toiletries round,” you assured her, gathering the protectors and dumping them outside onto a porch seat.

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you,” she said, helping you unload the amenities.

You moved onto the next few cabins, dropping off the products before moving on. You arrived at Green, and were somehow really surprised when Jeno opened the door, almost as if you had forgotten which cabin he was in. He had changed out of the camp shirt, and was now wearing a plain white T-shirt, letting his black hair flop down over his forehead and a pair of thin-framed glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. For a moment, you were unsure what to say, “Housekeeping?”

You were worried he wouldn’t get the joke, but sure enough a wide, amused grin made its way onto his face as he shook his head at you, pushing the door open with one hand to allow you to duck under his arm and enter the cabin.

He’d already cleaned most of it, the bathroom was the only part he hadn’t got to yet. You wolf whistled jokingly at his efforts, as he had obviously achieved a lot more than the other leaders, and dumped your bag on the ground to help him stock the small bathroom cupboards. Each cabin had a tiny bathroom; just a sink and a toilet, whereas showers were located elsewhere.

When you’d finished, he flopped down onto one of the beds, “Do you know when the campfire is?”

You checked your watch, “Two hours from now?”

He groaned, grabbing his pillow and pulling it over his face, “You know, we’re supposed to go night swimming tonight.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I heard.”

He noticed your slightly disgusted tone and sat up on his elbows, letting the pillow fall away and sit neatly beside him, “You got a problem with lakes, Doc?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, “What I’ve got a problem with is your attitude.”

“Oooooh, sticks and stones, y/n,” he clutched his heart dramatically. After a moment, he turned to face you again, “So you’re not coming with us?”

“No, I’m coming,” you smiled at his expression. You couldn’t quite pick his emotion, but you didn’t dwell on it. “I’m just not sure about whether I should swim or not. I could conduct a few tests easily before our next opportunity-“

“Another two weeks from now?” He groaned again, the sound contradicting the smile on his face. “Come on, Doc, how bad can it be?”

You sent him a smile, using your index finger to point matter-of-factly as you began pacing the floor beside his bed, “I’m glad you asked; VERY bad. Do you know what that water could contain? It could-“

“Jeno?” There was a call from the other side of the door, and Jeno stood up to answer it, lightly brushing his arm against you as he walked past. When he opened the door, Jisoo began talking rapidly, “Hey, I just wanted to know if you’re still planning on coming night swimming with us tonight.”

Jeno glanced back at you with a smirk before focusing back on Jisoo, “I don’t know. Could be dangerous.”

She looked confusedly at him and then noticed you behind him, her eyes widening, “Oh, well. Um, either way, I hope you can come. And, you, too, Y/n.”

You waved, “Thanks, Jisoo.” She promptly turned around and walked back down the steps towards her own cabin.

“I thought Jisoo was Renjun’s partner,” you said, sitting down on the floor to organise and inventory the leftover amenities. This was normally a job you’d do back at Main, but for the rest of the summer, you found yourself doing it in Green.

He smiled at you, and you couldn’t help but feel as if he was accusing you of something, a glint in his eye as he turned away from you to go through one of his suitcases, “She is. But, I think she thinks I’m her partner sometimes.” He chuckled, rifling through his bag.

When you were finished with the toiletries, you grabbed the mattress protectors the Head had given you, and bid him goodbye, after promising you’d see him later (but not necessarily to swim).

After a noisy dinner in the mess hall, everyone shouted excitedly as they returned to their cabins to get changed. It was only the start of summer, but it was already really hot, so the weather in the evening was perfect for swimming. Despite your earlier protests about the lake, you put on your swimsuit anyway, pulling a short black dress on over the top. Making sure you’d packed your towel, and inserting a small antiseptic spray into your bag at the last minute, you turned around excitedly to look at your best friend, who was still getting dressed, “Come onnnnn. It might actually be night by the time you’re ready.”

“I’m sorry not all of us are desperate enough to get changed in a second because we’re so excited to see a boy,” she teased you back, poking out her tongue childishly.

You laughed and flicked her towel towards her, making a satisfying whacking noise, before stuffing it into her own bag. You ignored her comment, “Are the other guys coming? Jungkook and the other ASSes?”

She snorted at the nickname, “Uh, no. Typically, these nights are just for the leaders, but since most of them are our age, they invited us anyway.”

When she was finally ready to go, you let her lead you down a path using a flashlight. You found that you weren’t going to the area of the lake you’d seen the campers heading, but rather onto a path that circled the lake. You walked for a few minutes through some trees, until you heard you best friend mumble a “yes”, as she stepped out into a clearing.

The small section of the lake that had been turned into the leader’s night swimming location was almost set up like a beach. There was a large deposit of soft sand, on this side of the lake, and you could see a bonfire somewhere off the lake’s edge. A small jetty jutted out towards a deck a few metres above the bedrock in the lake, floating calmly.

It looked as though all the team leaders had arrived, and most were standing around talking, waiting for the sun to set fully for night swimming.

“Hi, guys!” Your best friend excitedly bounced over to where Donghyuck, Mark and the other Head were talking, greeting the other female leaders as she passed.

You were unsure where to join in, so opted to walk to a small spot to put down your belongings on the beach. When you turned around, Jeno was standing beside you, peering into your bad, “Where’s all the testing equipment, Doc?” He immediately began laughing at his own joke, and you found yourself laughing along with him, despite the fact that you hadn’t even found the joke remotely funny.

“Left it back in the lair,” you shrugged, looking at your bag. You turned around and surveyed the scene in front of you, “What have I missed so far? Care to fill me in?”

He crossed his arms and examined the group, sucking his lips in and scrunching his face up before looking back at you, “Not much; Donghyuck has been complaining about this being lame, Renjun has been arguing with my partner for the last fifteen minutes over God knows what, the two Heads have been off doing whatever – they arrived like a minute before you – and Jaemin, Jisoo and I have just been hanging out, waiting for you to arrive.”

You felt a small blush creep up your neck when he said he’d been waiting for you, though you tried to oppress it; they’d probably all been waiting so the real fun could begin. You pointed to where your best friend was talking to Donghyuck, “Yeah, well, she takes a very long time to get ready in the morning. Chuck in a day of financing work, and she’s EXTRA slow. Frankly, I didn’t even think she could go any slower.”

He laughed, opening his mouth to say something before Jisoo walked over, “Hey, Y/n. Jeno, here you go.” She handed him a cup of… well, something, and stood expectantly waiting for someone to say something.

“When are we going to actually swim?” She asked no one in particular, despite looking at Jeno most of the time.

He looked towards Mark, before shouting across the beach, “Mark! We ready to swim?”

Mark looked confused, cupping his ear with his hand, and Jeno yelled again. The second time, however, Mark leaned back and smiled in understanding, before shooting the younger boy a quick thumbs up and clapping his hands together, walking towards where the rest of the group was huddled, not too far from where you were currently standing with Jisoo and Jeno.

“Alright, children, into the water!” He gestured dramatically towards the lake, as if the leaders were kids who needed to be shown where to go.

Instantly, the group began whooping and undressing to swim, and you shyly looked away as Jeno removed his shirt, tugging it over his head.

Jisoo began to remove her t-shirt and jean shorts, “This is going to be so much fun!”

Jeno tossed his shirt to the side, placing his hands on his hips he turned to you, “You’re coming in with me.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, slowly removing the straps of your dress from your shoulders, “Bold of you to assume I would listen to your demands.”

He watched as you tucked your dress into your bag, “Was I wrong in my assumptions, though?”

163 notes · View notes

winetae · 7 years

Text

⇾ love me, love me (m)

⇁ Jimin x Reader

⇁ smut, hybrid!au

⇁ accidental voyeurism, pillow riding, power play, d/s undertones, cum play, use of the word bitch, possessiveness, dirty talk, mentions of breeding, lowkey soft, not much plot even if u squint

⇁ 12.7k

Legally speaking, Jimin is yours—the shiny collar clasped around his neck and the adoption papers attest this. But behind closed doors, Jimin makes sure you understand that he isn’t anyone’s bitch.

(a/n) big ty to jules for her extensive dog knowledge that helped me with the visual aids for this fic!! ty to mj for reading it over and convincing me that it wasn’t half bad :’’) and ty to cat who always answers any questions i have about grammar! and to everyone who sent me jimin hoe gifs, ily!!

“You’re in over your head.”

“Hybrids need to be taken care of properly, they aren’t goldfish. Young women your age are not equipped to look after them.”

The adoption center had warned you hybrid breeds like Jimin would require constant attention, but, at the time, you had foolishly dismissed their concerns, already enraptured by the look on his face, hope glimmering in his brown eyes. Perhaps it would have been wise to heed their advice.

Two months have passed since the adoption but Jimin’s abundance of energy still takes you by surprise. His exuberance never runs low; no matter how much he plays and runs around all day, he never tires himself out.

Keeping him occupied is one thing. What you don’t expect is his penchant for physical affection.

By now, it’s no well kept secret that Jimin is an avid fan of skinship—he’s made it his habit to rub his face against yours, trailing his nose down your neck and your clothes until he’s sure that his scent will cling to you like a shadow. Days and nights alike, he seeks the attention of his owner and won’t hesitate to pout and whine if you don’t indulge him enough to his liking.

If the first few times catch you unawares, you’ve long grown accustomed to the way he pounces on you without warning while you’re lazily flicking through the TV channels. Tail wagging high in the air, he laves your cheeks with unbridled enthusiasm, the sound of your giggles the only encouragement he needs to pursue his ministrations.

You suppose some might find it tiring to keep up with a dog hybrid, especially one brimming with so much energy, but you prove to be the exception.

Jimin breathes life into your otherwise boring and tedious everyday occurrence. Sometimes, you find it hard to believe how effortlessly he’s able to bring color to your monochrome existence. But there is no room for disbelief when his presence is perceptible to the naked eye—your spacious apartment now feels like a proper home rather than an impersonal hotel suite, the living space no longer spotless and clinical; Jimin’s games litter the floor, crumbs of a tuna sandwich sticking to the counter top he forgot to wipe clean.

It’s almost frightening, how easy it is to let Jimin into your life. He seamlessly weaves himself into your daily routine and your heart, and gives you a reason to come home after a long day of work.

Before you have time to consciously realize it, you begin to anticipate his hugs and reciprocate his affection.

Whenever you’re in the kitchen preparing dinner and he suddenly wraps both arms around you from behind to whine about his empty stomach, you turn around to scratch the belly in question before he has time to finish his complaint. At night, he likes to curl up next to you under the comfort of a hand-sewn quilt, his ears pulled back slightly when you run a soothing hand over his mop of hair. Your heart softens whenever you see his crescent shaped eyes smile in your direction, his plump lips stretched into a wide and inviting grin.

That’s not to say that there aren’t downsides to this arrangement—if you can call them that.

It doesn’t take long to notice that taking care of your more personal matters proves to be nearly impossible. Jimin has dissolved the very notion of privacy, leaving you no spare moment to attend to your own needs without his detection.

How are you supposed to hide an orgasm from someone who can instantly tell when you use a different body wash? How do you find time to rub one off when Jimin is glued to your side as soon you get home from work?

Now that your bed is a shared space, it doesn’t feel right to tend to your base desires out in the open where Jimin’s nose can detect your arousal. You don’t want to make him uneasy so you try your best to deal with your problem as quietly as possible. With Jimin snuggling up next to you at night, the only time you’re guaranteed solitude is when you lock yourself in the privacy of the bathroom.

It takes some getting used to—the bathtub is not nearly as comfortable as your bed—but you manage to make it work. You light some scented candles and play some soothing background music, hoping that the floral fragrance and bluesy melodies will camouflage your actions from Jimin’s keen senses. And to your knowledge, Jimin is none the wiser to what happens once you immerse your body in the hot water. Which is how it should be.

Tonight is another one of those nights where you desperately need to unwind. Whenever your working hours weigh down on your shoulders, you crave that release more than usual, needing that post-orgasmic state of bliss to temporarily erase the worries from your mind. You don’t realize you’ve spent too much time relaxing in the tub until you notice the pruned skin of your fingertips.

Work must be giving you more stress than you first feared; for some reason your body is more sensitive to your ministrations and you manage to bring yourself to a peak twice in a row; an unprecedented occurrence. Body tingly and light, you emerge from the bathroom, skin damp and rosy.

It’s difficult to force your tired limbs into movement, but even if you want nothing more than to doze off on the couch and bask in your blissful glow, dinner needs to be taken care of. You distantly remember promising Jimin grilled meat earlier this morning and you’re not one to break promises. Speaking of—

“Jimin?” Your voice carries through the silent apartment, a trail of wet droplets staining the carpet as you search for him.

You expect to see the hybrid pacing back in forth in front of the fridge like he usually does when hunger gnaws at him, but the kitchen is surprisingly barren of his presence. How odd—he’s usually the first to complain about his rumbling stomach. You pause in perplexity when you also fail to find him in the living room. Unless he’s stepped out of the house without forewarning, only the laundry room and your bedroom are left to explore. Although you are curious as to why he isn’t demanding dinner like any other night, Jimin has never left the house without a word, so you aren’t too worried about his current whereabouts

The pitter-patter of your footsteps is muted by the beige carpet, but you know Jimin’s dog ears are fully capable of discerning the faint sound. As you draw nearer to the last door in the hallway, the voice in the back of your head finds it strange that Jimin hasn’t made an appearance yet.

The door to your room is left ajar and you move to poke your head in. With your hand on the brass knob, you give the door a small push before halting completely, your eyes blown wide in surprise as you soak in the sight in front of you.

A silent gasp is your only visible reaction. Surprise paralyzes you, rooting you to the spot. It’s as if your brain has been short-circuited, your mind drawing a blank as you try to process what you’re seeing.

The picture that greets you is obscene in all ways.

If Jimin’s nudity shocks you, it’s nothing compared to the slack-jawed response his sinful activity elicits from your body.

For there is nothing innocent about the way Jimin ruts against the pillow tucked between his strong thighs—with every thrust of his hips against the cushion, his muscles flex in a way that has your mouth go dry. Although his expressions are hidden from you, the firm globes of his ass tempt you in ways that they shouldn’t, his body shiny with sweat.

Even from this distance, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s up to. As if the sight itself isn’t sufficient proof, the high pitched whines of pleasure that bounce off the walls are enough evidence.

And yet—you continue to swim in denial, your brain refusing to trust your eyesight. Doubt clouds your thoughts. Could you, perhaps, be wrong? Maybe this is a simple misunderstanding and he’s merely— You struggle to find an excuse, grasping at straws, knowing in your heart that you’re not imagining this spectacle.

The deep, throaty moan that rips from his throat puts an end to your doubt. It’s guttural, animalistic. There’s no way that you can mistake it for anything else than what it is—the expression of lust in its rawest form.

Now that you’re fully cognizant of the situation, you realize that you should leave and grant him the privacy he deserves. It’s not as if he’s committing a crime of any sort—you of all people can sympathize. Leaving now is the best option so as to avoid any awkward explanations. You don’t want to invade his privacy or make him embarrassed for an act that is only natural.

With that thought in mind, you shut your eyes, trying to erase the memory before it ingrains itself into the crevices of your mind. You will your feet to shuffle back, but right as you are about to turn on your heels, Jimin shifts and you freeze on the spot, worried that he’s finally picked up on your presence. You brace yourself for the inevitable confrontation, hand tightening on the door knob to steady yourself—but no acknowledgment comes. Lifting your head, you expect your eyes to clash with his, but he shows no outward signs of being caught in the act.

Instead of berating you like you had expected, Jimin scoots himself back onto his haunches and grinds into the pillow with more fervor, his hips drawing little, half-circles that bring attention to the curve of his ass. Lost in his own world, he doesn’t take notice of your shameless gawking; too busy chasing after his pleasure.

You’re so enthralled by the salacious sight that you almost miss the way his right hand reaches up to paw at his face. From your peripheral vision, it looks like he’s wiping off the beads of sweat dripping down his hairline with the back of his hand. But your attention is quickly stolen by the bright-colored scrap of fabric that sticks out between his fingers—because, there, tightly clutched in his fist, is your favorite pair of underwear.

For a split second, you think your eyes deceive you but his wrist flicks, flashing you the familiar undergarment once more. It’s nothing as risqué as the collection buried at the bottom of your drawer, but that doesn’t stop embarrassment from dusting your cheeks and the tips of your ears pink.

The plain cotton pair is one you recognize at once—it’s the pair you had disposed of in the hamper right before you drew your bath.

You blink, mouth agape, the crux of your thighs throbbing as heat rushes south. Somehow, knowing that Jimin is holding such an intimate piece of clothing makes your pulse race. And the discomfort between your legs only grows as you continue to observe the events unfolding in front of you, feet stuck to the ground.

Jimin holds the rose colored material up to his nose, his tongue poking out from between his plump lips as he breathes in your feminine scent. Fleetingly, you register that it hasn’t been that long since the start of your bath—thirty minutes, give or take. Your scent must still be imbued on the fabric, traces of your discharge coloring the crotch of the panties white. Your unique fragrance seems to be too much for him to handle, and he growls into his hand, hips bucking with more urgency than before. It’s only then that it finally sinks in;

Jimin is sniffing your underwear.

He is smelling you. And getting off on it.

Dizziness overtakes you, rendering you speechless and making you go weak in the knees, your grip on the doorknob the only thing keeping you afloat. You don’t even try to make sense of what’s happening, too overcome with astonishment and something else—something a lot more dangerous and potent.

The lust you thought you had driven off earlier is now back tenfold. As much as you try to avert your gaze from the scene, arousal wraps itself around your spine, keeping you frozen in place, unable to peel your eyes away from the lewd vision. Spellbound, you couldn’t look away even if you tried.

The sole focus of his attention is clutched in his hand—Jimin buries his nose into his fist, pink fabric still clasped between his digits, and he moans again, low and throaty, his hips working the silk-covered pillow with renewed eagerness. You don’t think the sight can get anymore erotic than this but he soon proves you wrong.

Your heart nearly combusts at that very second, your head spinning with heady arousal. You can’t believe, yet again, what you’re seeing—because the sight of Jimin taking the cotton material between his teeth wipes out the notion of coherency from your vocabulary. You can only watch with bated breath, bewitched, as he suckles the crotch of your panties into his mouth, moaning what sounds suspiciously like your name around the fabric. The moment the taste of you hits his tongue, he shudders, trembling from head to toe in ecstasy, grinding his hips into the pillow as he rides out the high of his orgasm.

Seeing him spent and hunched over the now soiled pillow breaks you free from your trance. You scurry backwards, dazed, while trying to ignore the throbbing ache between your thighs.

Back in the kitchen, your mind is still reeling—it feels like you’ve awoken from a dream, stumbled back from a parallel universe. You grill the meat without much thought, your attention drifting from the task at hand. How can one expect you to focus on cooking dinner when the vision of Jimin masturbating is all you can see every time you blink?

A myriad of questions invade your thoughts. Isn’t normal for guys to use panties to jack off? You recall seeing it in porn, once. Jimin had probably only borrowed it to ease him through his orgasms—nothing more.

Some people watch porn, some use less conventional methods... And that’s perfectly fine, you reason. But why couldn’t it have been a clean pair of underwear? Why did he have to go through the hamper? It doesn’t disgust you in the slightest, but you can’t completely shake off the embarrassment his actions provoked.

You pat your cheeks with the backs of your hands, feeling heat emanate from your skin. The image of him holding up the cotton to his nose is still embedded in the forefront of your mind. You find it...strangely fascinating that Jimin would take so much pleasure in something so crude, so personal. It’s obvious how much he enjoyed it and you can’t help but ask yourself if he thought of you in his fantasies and not some nameless, faceless female hybrid.

Get your head out of your ass. It’s nothing personal, you try to convince yourself as you flip the meat on the grill. Perhaps dog hybrids rely on scents to get themselves off. You can’t fault him for the way his body is biologically wired. You can’t let yourself get carried away by your own burgeoning desires.

Speak of the devil...

The mouth-watering aroma of the sizzling meat must have wafted all the way to the bedroom because it doesn’t take long for Jimin to show up, guided by his nose. Your heart lurches against your ribs when he approaches you, eyes alight as they land on this favorite meal, golden tail wagging back and forth. Immediately, you notice the way his skin glows, dewy and pink, and your vision inadvertently flashes with images of him rutting against the pillow. Gulping, you quickly avert your gaze, afraid that he’ll see right through you.

You hold in your breath, all too aware of his sudden proximity. Swallowing becomes difficult as he rests his hands on your shoulders, fingers pressing into muscle. Not trusting your voice, you stay uncharacteristically quiet and flip the pork chops more times than necessary.

“Was work tiring today, noona?” His warm breath tickles the nape of your neck and you have to fight down a shiver. Relaxing in his hold is damn near impossible when your heart feels like it’s about to burst in your chest.

“Hm? What makes you say that?”

“You’ve been taking longer baths lately but they don’t seem to help you unwind at all. See?” He massages your shoulders insistently to prove his point. Thumbs digging into the muscle, he hits a sore spot, eliciting a cry of surprise. Torn between the instinctive need to flee from the bite of pain and the secret desire to prolong physical contact, your shoulders tense up. “You’re all stiff."

“M’okay,” you mumble, feeling your skin flame up. Thankful that he can’t see your traitorous expression, you try to reassure him, “It’s holiday hell season, so I’ve just been a bit more busy, s’all.”

“Okay, if you say so.” His hands fall to his side and you don’t expect to miss his touch as much as you do. “You don’t have to pretend in front of me, you know. I can comfort you, too.”

He sounds so sure of himself, so resolute, so painfully sincere that you’re not sure what to make of it. “Jimin,” you swallow, at a loss for words.

“Let me help you set the table, noona,” he offers graciously, already reaching for the plates in the cupboard. If he notices the blush dusting your cheeks, he doesn’t comment on it.

You’re not sure what to make of Jimin’s behavior. Any other day before today and you would have dismissed it as normal, but what happened earlier has undoubtedly shifted your perception.

Behind you, you hear Jimin rummage through one of the kitchen drawers as he looks for eating utensils. Bottom lip pulled between your teeth, you observe him out the corner of your eye, trying to place what has changed. Even after you’ve served dinner, you continue to watch him, attempting to spot any unusual behavior on his part, but your suspicions are laid to rest when he doesn’t act any differently than usual. Jimin devours the juicy meat, tongue licking his fork after every bite to savor the flavor. Unwittingly, your eyes track the movement, entranced by the way the pink muscle laps the silver utensil, imagining the curve of his tongue elsewhere.

You take a gulp of cold water, an ice cube clinking against your teeth. To your relief, the icy water douses your thirst for the time being and you’re able to pull yourself together.

Realization strikes you right then—maybe...it’s you, not Jimin, who has changed.

This explanation makes perfect sense. Jimin has always been overly affectionate, easily expressing his feelings through words and actions. In retrospect, there is nothing strange or out of place with the way he has been interacting with you. The more you mull things over, the more it becomes apparent that it’s all you—you’re the one making things awkward; you’re the one suddenly filled with inappropriate thoughts.

Your skin prickles with guilt. Shoulders heavy, as if bearing the weight of your shame, you nibble your food in silence, lost in thought.

“Eat more,” Jimin suggests, transferring his last piece of his meat onto your plate. You look up at him, eyebrows raised. It’s not like him to give up his meat... Before you have time to voice your question, he remarks, “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been quiet.”

Brow creased in concern, he reaches across the table, extending a hand and placing it on your forehead to feel your temperature. The corners of his lips twitch into a frown. “I think you’ve been overworking yourself. You’re burning up.”

You do feel hot. His touch is soft, tender; his eyes crinkled in genuine concern. Being the center of his attention makes blood rush to your cheeks, and the rosy red color that splotches your face only worries him more.

He lets his hand linger, the pads of his fingertips brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “You sure you still wanna watch a movie? It might be better for you to rest up...”

“I’m fine.” It’s a relief to hear that your voice doesn’t waver. Your lips quirk into a smile, trying to appear reassuring. “You can go pick one out while I put these on to wash.”

Jimin’s eyes linger on you for a few seconds, and you can tell that he’s debating internally whether to push the issue or not. After a moment of deliberation, he acquiesces, mouth splitting into his familiar grin.

He helps you pile the dirty plates and pan into the dishwasher. His closeness leaves you flustered, unable to hold his gaze when he hands you the used glasses and stained dishes.

Only when Jimin is out of sight can you breathe a little easier. Distance makes everything less overwhelming and you’re finally able to sort out your thoughts.

If Jimin isn’t acting any different than usual, then there isn’t any valid reason for me to behave differently, either, you think to yourself.

However, this is easier said than done—you can still feel the ghost of his touch on your forehead, the phantom feeling of his body near yours. Shaking your head as if trying to physically remove these indecent thoughts, you attempt to strengthen your resolve.

Only once you’ve collected your wits do you make your way to the living room. The opening credits are already rolling on screen, but Jimin’s attention is diverted by your entrance.

As soon as you plop down on the couch, he wastes no times rearranging himself into his preferred position, head on your legs. On any other day, the weight on your lap would be welcome and cozy, but the night’s earlier events make you want to shy away from contact. If he senses your unease, he doesn’t let it deter him from enjoying the movie playing on screen.

It’s not uncommon to see Jimin's figure splayed across the living room couch, his head using your lap as a makeshift pillow. Settled in the crook of your legs, his peaceful expression is framed by a halo of flowing gold. You thread your fingers through his hair, occasionally scratching him near the ears, treasuring these rare moments of tranquility.

Even as your left leg starts to cramp, you don’t have the heart to push him off, not when this is supposedly the most comfortable way for him to watch the movie playing on the flat screen television. It’s what he claims, anyway, although you secretly suspect that it’s just another flimsy pretext for physical contact. So you let it slide, not minding the display of affection in the slightest. The way he drapes over you like the coziest of blankets is enough to turn your muscles into mush. You might as well be a sloth—too lazy to move and readjust your position. Your mind is blissfully blank, a warm haze entrapping you in its hold. Lethargy, for once, is welcome.

Besides—you can’t help but appreciate the break this fleeting moment offers you.

A sleek, electric blue race car zooms across the screen just then, catching your attention. You look up at the television screen just in time to see a car fly through the air, followed by three other, equally impressive sports cars.

The loud roar of engines revving up boom through the sound system and Jimin’s tail thumps against the couch as the expensive models whiz past each other in their race to the finish line.

Although you’re neutral to this genre, action movies are Jimin’s favorite—they’re the only films capable of keeping him still for longer than thirty minutes at a time. Unlike you, he has no patience for romantic comedies or period dramas. And while you don’t mind watching blockbusters, the events of earlier this evening keep you distracted. You watch the fast-paced scenes blankly, the plot inconsequential and quickly forgotten.

Instead, your mind readily supplies a movie of its own and you let yourself sink into the earlier memory of Jimin masturbating to your scent. You can recall the scene in graphic detail, from the way his muscles rippled with every thrust of his hips to the way his labored pants filled up the bedroom as he worked himself to climax. The filthy images replay on constant loop, and you find yourself wriggling under Jimin’s weight, earning a whine of protest.

He’s quick to adjust himself over your legs, twisting his head around until he finds the most comfortable position. You don’t think much of it until you cast a glance at his lounging figure. “J-Jimin wha—” Your hand hovers uncertainly over his mop of hair. “What are you doing?”

Jimin refuses to budge, his head still buried between the apex of your thighs. Hot puffs of air kiss your skin through the spandex material of your yoga pants, and you do your best not to squirm under his weight. With the way his breath tickles the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, you can’t ignore how dangerously close his plush lips are to your crotch. A quick mental appraisal and you deduce that it would only take three kisses upwards for him to nose your—

“Jimin!” You give his locks a short tug to emphasize your point.

Any closer and his developed olfactory senses would be able to detect the burgeoning arousal hidden between your legs. Unless... Could he possibly smell you already? You panic internally, your fingers yanking his soft tuft of hair in urgency.

A high-pitched whine pierces the air and, immediately, you still, your entire body freezing up as you feel the vibrations of his howl go straight to your clit. Jimin seizes the opportunity to delve deeper into your lap, his arms latching on either side of your waist to keep him locked in place. At a loss, the hand still gripping his hair relaxes its hold, the silky strands slipping through your curled digits. Your mouth goes dry and you swallow thickly, keenly aware of how his mouth is right above your throbbing mound.

Having him pressed up against such intimate places knocks the wind out of you. Your heart gallops in your chest, the sound loud enough for his pert ears to pick up.

You clench your thighs close together in an attempt to mask the musky smell of your excitement hoping, perhaps futilely, that he won’t be able to discern the evidence of your arousal. Straightening your slackened posture, you try to create distance between you and Jimin but your fidgeting only pushes your crotch against his parted mouth, much to his delight.

“Noona smells so good,” he grunts, words muffled, not bothering to lift his head from its snug spot. You squirm, feeling his lips form the words against your skin, the touch only inflaming you further. Jimin can probably tell, too, judging by the way his golden tail starts to wag in the air.

From your vantage point, you’re unable to see his face properly, his shaggy hair covering his eyes, but you can picture his expression vividly—lids closed in bliss, the corners of his pout upturned into a look of pure satisfaction. Your mind easily supplies you with the image—after all, it’s one you can’t bring yourself to forget. When the memory starts to replay once more, you try again weakly. “J-Jimin, wha—”

“Open your legs for me, noona.” There’s an unmistakable purr lodged in his throat, far too similar to the felines he despises. “Let me smell you properly.”

Properly?!

As your mind tries to wrap itself around the meaning of his words, Jimin finally lifts his head up to meet yours, his gaze wide and imploring. You’ve always been weak to this look, and he uses this knowledge to his advantage. Any subsequent response dies in your throat as soon as your gaze connects with his blown out pupils, the look on his face effective enough to snuff out your inner ramblings.

Gulping audibly, you try not to give in to your wicked desires. “Jimin, you can’t. It isn’t proper, you—This isn’t right.”

The expression on his face suggests he wants to argue, his dark gaze smothering. For a fleeting moment, a shadow of bitterness falls upon his face, and you can pinpoint the exact moment he resigns himself to your will, his stare now void of emotion. Lust no longer sparks in his eyes; the hunger replaced with vacancy.

If it wasn’t for the movie still playing in the background, the awkward silence that had settled between the two of you would be stifling.

“I think you were r-right,” you croak out, voice an octave higher than it usually is. “I don’t think I’m feeling well... I think that it’s best if I head on to bed early.”

He lets you scuffle to your feet without objection.

“I want to finish the movie,” is his reaction. He keeps his eyes trained ahead, pretending to be engrossed by the complicated car tricks on the screen.

A strange feeling presses down on your chest, constricting your breathing until you feel a headache pierce through. You can’t place what it is exactly—but you feel cold, your bare skin missing the furnace-like heat of Jimin’s body.

The part of you that had wanted to give in is screaming at you. However, the rational side of your brain, no matter how small, wins out.

It begs you to retreat to your room, which you do, but not without glancing back at Jimin once or twice, longing etched on your face.

The next day, you’re awoken to the sound of birds chirping. Sunlight filters through the curtains and you bask in the early morning light.

Shifting around, you throw a glance at the digital clock on your nightstand. For a split second, panic overtakes you and you fear the worst—you’ve overslept and are running terribly late for work. But you soon relax once you realize that it’s Sunday; the only day that you allow yourself to sleep in.

Relieved, you settle back into your original position, your body molding itself against Jimin’s sleeping figure. The movement makes you rub against Jimin’s form—and it’s then that you finally notice how hot it is, your thin nightshirt sticking to your sweat soaked skin. Sometime during the night, someone must have kicked off the duvet, and yet even the lack of blankets isn’t enough to cool you down.

Just as you’re about to get up, Jimin snuggles closer to you, your back pressed to his front. He winds an arm around your middle, keeping you firmly in place.

“Jimin?” you call softly, craning your neck back to look at him.

His expression is peaceful, undisturbed by the troubles of reality. The sight softens your heart, an endeared smile playing at your lips as you take in his angelic features. It isn’t the first time you are struck by the thought that you don’t deserve someone as selfless and giving as Jimin. He would probably be better off with someone who doesn’t lust after him... After all, you’re his owner—you’re supposed to be the responsible one, not governed by your own greed and desires.

As you struggle with these inner thoughts, Jimin draws you closer to him in his slumber and curls around you, mistaking you for a life-sized plushie or pillow. One of his legs slides in between your own, forcing you to bite down a gasp when you feel something hard poking your hip.

The situation is only made worse when you try to wiggle out of his grasp. His arm refuses to budge and all you manage to do is rub yourself against his morning wood. At first you think you imagine it, but once you stop fidgeting, you’re sure that you can feel his hips grind lazily into yours from behind, his body seeking out friction even in his sleep.

Heart beating fast in your chest, you jump out of his arms as if burnt by boiling water. Through the haze of slumber, he whines, bemoaning the loss of contact.

“Noona?” he calls out, confused, voice low and hoarse.

You don’t trust yourself to speak yet, heartbeat refusing to slow down. Turning your face away so that he can’t see how brightly colored your cheeks are, you let out a noncommittal noise in response.

Jimin stretches his limbs out, rolling around on the bed whilst yawning. Blinking away the sleep from his eyes, he pats his grumbling stomach, a sheepish look on his face. “Is it too early for breakfast?”

You snort, “It’s never too early for breakfast. Get up and I’ll start cooking the sausages.”

He needs no further prompting, bounding up and heading straight to the kitchen as if pulled by an invisible leash. You smile fondly as you trail after him, glad that there isn’t any lingering awkwardness in the air from yesterday night.

A new day signifies the turning of a new page; the events of last are but a distant memory. In fact, if you hadn’t known any better, you wouldn’t have been able to spot anything out of the ordinary. It’s only in retrospect that you realize you might have spoken too soon.

“Hey,” Namjoon opens the door wider, making room for you and Jimin to enter. “Oh wow, that smells really good.”

“Save your compliments, you haven’t tasted it yet.”

“As long as it’s not burnt, I don’t see how you can fuck up banana bread.” He glances at the ceramic dish you balance in your hands and does this strange, awkward shuffle as if trying to decide whether or not to take the plate from you or not. Not trusting himself to carry the dish without somehow tripping over his own feet and breaking it, he herds you towards to the kitchen.

Jimin follows after you, a lot more at ease than the first time the pair of you had been invited over. There is still a certain carefulness that lingers in the way he walks and appraises his surroundings, even if his expression doesn’t betray any of his thoughts.

“Should I just set it down here? It still need time to cool down.”

Namjoon nods, waving his hand behind him. “Sure, just leave them on the kitchen counter for later.” Turning back to Jimin, he pats his shoulder amicably, trying to put the hybrid at ease. “And how have you been, Jiminie? Is ______ treating you right?”

“The best,” Jimin offers a grin, his gaze darting to yours. Your stomach somersaults at the praise, your chest warming at the way his eyes seem to soften when he looks at you. “We eat red meat often.”

Namjoon chuckles, “Isn’t too early to be bribing him into doing your bidding?”

You’re about to retort, reply on the tip of your tongue, when an excited shout of your name sounds through the apartment. You jump, startled, and only quick reflexes prevent the plate in your hands from shattering to bits on the floor.

“Whoa there,” Namjoon reaches for Hoseok a few seconds too late, unable to stop the latter from bounding up to you in excitement.

Hoseok embraces you in a tight hug, his lips pecking your cheek repeatedly in lieu of a greeting. While you’re not a stranger to physical touch, the sudden welcome takes you by surprise.

“I missed you!” Hoseok beams, dimples on show, and you melt a little. It’s like staring at happiness in the face. Hoseok continues without pause, not leaving you time to answer. “You haven’t come around in forever. Is it because of Namjoon? Did you two fight? Next time, just ignore him and come visit me!”

His fingers tickle your sides and a titter escapes you, the tinkling sound encouraging him to continue. “Hoseokie,” you wriggle around, trying to pull yourself free from his attack, but he’s relentless. Giving up, you throw your head back, laughter tumbling from your open mouth, unaware that Hoseok’s interest had turned to your bared neck.

He doesn’t waste a second, head diving to take a whiff of your scent, a pleased sound leaving his mouth as his nose connects with the exposed skin.

You barely have time to react to Hoseok’s proximity before Jimin’s growl of warning cuts off your giggles. The sound seems to rumble in his chest, deep and threatening, like thunder announcing the coming of a storm. You whip your head around in surprise, only to find Jimin baring his teeth at Hoseok, all predator-like and menacing.

“Back off,” the corner of his lips curl into a snarl. “She’s my bitch.”

Shocked by the possessiveness that drips from his tone, you gulp audibly, throat dry. Because it’s Jimin, you don’t take offense to him calling you a bitch. The term doesn’t hold the same negative connotations for hybrids. But it does make you pause, your eyes widening to an almost comical size.

Never before had he addressed you as such, the word usually reserved for the female hybrids that he would copulate with when their heats hit. However you don’t have time to ruminate because Jimin growls in warning once more.

He puffs up his chest, canines on display. Anger rolls off his body in waves, the dark of his eyes fixed on Hoseok’s form as he waits for the elder to make one wrong move.

For the first time since you’ve known him, his smaller frame looks intimidating. You have a hard time assimilating this version of Jimin to the one you’re so familiar with—they might as well be completely different people. Gone is the cute boy you know, his soft features now twisted with hostility.

It feels as if someone has pressed pause on the scene. The two hybrids lock eyes, at a standstill. The tension between the two is palpable, thick enough to choke on. Stuck between the two, you gnaw your bottom lip, your mind racing as it tries to think up solutions to avoid a fight.

Jimin’s scowl deepens, agitated by Hoseok’s lack of response. Your heart clenches with worry; Hoseok is physically bigger than Jimin and older, too. Moreover, you find yourself on his territory, and you highly doubt Hoseok would choose to submit and let himself be dislodged by the younger pup. You can only see this ending badly... For Jimin’s sake, you want to end this quickly before the situation escalates.

Their silent battle makes you antsy and you try to free yourself from Hoseok’s hold as surreptitiously as possible, not wanting to bring any more attention to yourself or to trigger a fight.

However, this seems to be the wrong move. It sets Jimin off—he snaps his jaw at the older man, demanding for him to let you go.

Namjoon’s figure is taut with tension, ready to jump in at any moment to separate the two hybrids. “Uhm,” he tries, uneasy. “Hoseok, why don’t you step away from _____, okay?” Hoseok eventually lets you go, albeit reluctantly, and retreats to Namjoon’s side.

Turning to Jimin, you demand, “Jimin, apologize to Hoseok.”

“No way,” he huffs at once, his gaze still glued to the older hybrid, refusing to break eye contact because it would be seen as a sign of submission.

“Hoseok didn’t do anything wrong. We’re guests here and you were out of line.” Frustration bleeds through your tone, edging on something sterner.

His ears twitch as they register the simmering anger in your voice, and he finally turns to you, looking like you had just kicked a puppy. The expression makes your heart uneasy, and you’re reminded of an incident that had taken place a month ago.

Jimin is the first and only hybrid you’ve adopted so you don’t have anything to compare the experience to. But you’re suddenly reminded of one unfortunate incident involving ‘territory marking’ and the subsequent visit from the world’s grouchiest neighbor. “Put a tighter leash on him, _____. Why did you become an owner of a hybrid if you can’t even keep him in check?”

And although the scolding upsets you at the time, all it takes is Jimin whining low in his throat, head bowed in an act of submission, for all negative feelings to disperse. He looks so genuinely apologetic over his mistake that you can’t bring yourself to harshly reprimand him like your neighbors would have you do. You don’t like disciplining Jimin; you hate how mean it makes you sound, the edge in your voice making Jimin evade your gaze. The last thing you want is for him to fear you or hate you. And in all accounts, Jimin is the perfect hybrid; he gives you no reason to berate him.

Your expression softens, placated by the expression that paints his face. You expect him to give in and apologize like all the times before, but to your surprise, his face hardens to stone when he hears Hoseok move.

“I think it’s best if we leave.” You force out an apologetic smile. “We’ll come around another time.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Namjoon says in understanding, keeping his eye on Hoseok in case he had to hold him back.

You're quick to usher Jimin out the front door, sparing them a hurried wave in lieu of a goodbye.

Even though you don’t encounter anyone else on the way back to your flat, Jimin makes sure to stay glued by your side. You expect him to relax when it’s just the two of you in the elevator but even then he doesn’t drop his protective stance. It would be better if he said something, anything, but he remains quiet, his thoughts hidden from you.

Your body flinches as the door slams behind you with a resounding thud. Jimin evidently still looks worked up by the encounter if the way his nose twitches is any indication.

Arms crossed, you demand, “Jimin, what the heck was that?”

Jimin looks at you, incredulous, as if in disbelief that you could ask something so blatantly obvious. “He was all up on you!”

“So? It was harmless! You’re overreacting, it wasn’t as if he would bite me or whatever.” A muscle in his jaw ticks at the mention of a bite. “Besides, I can take care of myself.”

“He knows better than to be that close to you,” he grinds out between clenched teeth. “It’s obvious that he was provoking me!”

“What are you on about? And what’s with your behavior? You—You’ve never been this aggressive before...”

Jimin stays silent, lips drawn into a thin line. You await an explanation with raised eyebrows but when none comes straight away, your patience runs out.

“Is this... Is this about last night? Are you still upset because of...what happened? Look, I don’t know wh—”

“Hoseok is a hybrid,” Jimin cuts in. “His nose works just as well as mine. And to know that he was deliberately touching you, sniffing you, trying to stake his claim over you... It pisses me off.”

“But hybrids are naturally affectionate! It’s never been an issue before... You’ve never been so opposed to me being close to men. Why are you suddenly acting like a—I mean, why are you acting so...territorial...”

“I can’t help but feel protective,” he defends himself. “Anyone with a working nose can tell how fertile you are right now, noona. Anyone within a five mile radius that happens to catch a whiff of your delicious scent knows that you’re perfectly ripe for the picking.”

“Jimin!” Too surprised by his bluntness, you can’t bring yourself to be scandalized. You realize that he’s right—the start of your ovulation cycle coincides with all of the recent out-of-character episodes; your missing panties, the couch incident, and now, this.

“Should I call Taehyung? I didn’t know—I didn’t think you would go into heat so soon, but I think he would understand.”

“No!” The vehemence of his reaction startles you. He narrows his eyes at you, chewing the inside of his cheek as he thinks over his next words. “I don’t want Yebin.”

“Jimin,” you say gently, placing what you hope to be a soothing hand on his shoulder. “You don’t need to act tough around me, it’s okay. If you’re in heat then it’s perfectly normal to—”

“I’m not in heat. Male hybrids don’t go through heats, you know this,” he grits out between his teeth as he wrenches free from your touch. You try to recall the briefing giving to you by the adoption center. The memory is distant and fuzzy but you can remember bits and pieces of information. He’s right, you realize with a gulp. Only do female hybrids experience heats. Then why...?

Seeing your look of confusion frustrates Jimin further, “God, you’re so—Sometimes you’re really frustrating, _____. I don’t know if this is your way of refusing me, but I would rather you just flat out tell me you don’t want me instead of pretending you don’t know anything.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t know, okay? You’ve never...I don’t—” Your mind races as it tries to supply a plausible explanation for his unusual behavior.

“Do you really not know? Do I really have to spell it out for you? You can’t have been this oblivious all this time, I refuse to believe it. Do I... Is it because I repulse you?” By the end of his tirade, he deflates, shoulders tensing up as he braces himself for the worst. “Am I just another dog—an animal—in your eyes?”

The bitterness that coats his words makes your heart twist. You want to reach out and smooth out the crinkle between his eyebrows as if that can physically erase the disgust and self-hate he has for himself.

“You don’t repulse me,” is your automatic response. How can he even believe such a thing? A frown etches itself on your features, the deep lines conveying your disbelief. “And you know that you’re not a pet to me.” You’re much more than that, you want to add. However, something holds you back from doing so. “Don’t talk about yourself that way.”

Hurt flashes across his face before he manages to control his expression. “Then why did you pretend like nothing happened the other night? I know you saw me.”

“I d-don’t... You knew?” you squawk, unable to provide an eloquent response.

“Of course I knew.”

You’re instantly flooded with guilt, mad at yourself for not respecting his private moment the very second you had realized what was going on. God, what does Jimin think of you now? How can he even stand to look at you when you had so grossly invaded his privacy like that without a proper apology? You hurry to apologize, head hanging low in shame.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have watched. I really don’t have any excuses... I get why you’re mad and I... I don’t expect you to forgive me, not now or ever, but if there’s anything I can do to make things right again, please tell me,” you plead, eyes round with earnestness.

Jimin considers you for a moment, head tilted to the side, bottom lip caught between the white of his teeth.

“What if I wanted you to see me?” he sounds out, the oppressing silence now broken. His question catches you off-guard and you gawk, jaw dropping open as you process the meaning behind his words.

“What? Jimin... You don’t mean—”

“I wanted you to see me, I wanted you to know. I knew you would find me.” Every admission comes out in quick succession, each one as shocking as the last, leaving you no time to make sense of his confession.

Jimin wanted you to find him... But why? What did he hope to achieve? What did he want you to know? The questions his words provoke whirl around in your head, making your head spin. You feel like you’re missing an essential puzzle piece that will clarify your muddled thoughts.

The only explanation you can come up with is that...Jimin likes you.

You don’t want to jump to conclusions but you really can’t find another logical explanation for his behavior.

“But why?” is all you can muster, feeling small. Out of the blue, you suddenly remember Taehyung’s female dog hybrid, the one Jimin had gone on play dates with. “What about Yebin?”

“What about her?” he growls, frustrated that you’re evading the crux of the subject. He rounds on you, “I don’t want her. I’ve never cared about her like I care about you. There’s no one else who cares about me as much as you do, either. And it’s not—It’s not just because you adopted me, so please don’t talk to me about displaced love or whatever. I don’t want to be with Yebin, or whoever else, when all I can think about is you.”

“Doesn’t it get tiring?” He heaves a sigh, and just when you think he’s going to pull back, he does the opposite. His form crowds yours against the wall, not willing to give up so quickly. “Pushing me away all the time, shying away from the truth when it’s so obvious.”

It’s hard to breathe, let alone think, when he’s this close to you.

“Try telling me you’ve never thought about me mounting you from behind.”

The effect of his words is instantaneous. You stammer out his name, heat rushing to your face, trying desperately to blink away the picture his words paint.

“I think about it all the time,” Jimin confesses quietly, almost sweetly. His rosy lips are so close to yours that you can feel the ghost of his breath; the promise of a kiss. “Sometimes when you bend over, I can’t help it. I think about you laid out like that, all pretty, presenting yourself like a good little bitch, and it gets me so hard. You don’t even want to know how many times I’ve had to hide my erections from you, it’s embarrassing.”

He gives a short laugh as he reminisces, head ducked sheepishly. “Noona, I know you want me, too. There’s no use denying it, I could smell how soaked you were while you watched me cum all over your pillow. I can always tell, but that night—” He inhales sharply, the memory on the tip of his tongue. “You smelled so good, I wanted nothing more than to lap it all up. These days it’s all I think about—how delicious you would taste.”

You wobble with uncertainty, rendered weak by his words, but by miracle you somehow manage to remain standing.

“J-Jimin.” Your stammer gives away how flustered his words have made you.

It feels like you’ve been fighting a losing battle with yourself since the start. Nevertheless, your stubborn personality refuses to give in right away. Your refusal gives you a semblance of control over the situation—without it you would become a mindless slave to your desire. Giving up the reins, letting yourself want someone without restriction... Even if your yearning keeps spiraling out of control the more Jimin speaks, you’re not sure that you’re ready to take that final step just yet.

Seeing your resolve weaken, he continues, “I could smell your arousal drip down the more you watched. God, I keep thinking about, about you. I feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind. Don’t you have any idea how tempting you are?” His words caress your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They affect you more than you’re willing to admit, and your nonverbal cues make your pretense at indifference all the more unconvincing. It’s only when Jimin’s gaze stops to observe your legs that you notice your thighs had been rubbing together in an attempt to alleviate the pulsing ache.

Caught red-handed, embarrassment colors your cheeks in shades of pink and crimson. Still, you attempt to save face, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze and hiding behind a mask of bravado.

His nostrils flare, fists curled by his side. Upon closer observation, you realize it’s foolish of you to mistake this posture for anger—his pupils are wide enough to eclipse the warm brown irises, his eyes now a bottomless pit of lust. You can feel the sheer need radiating off of his body in waves that threatens to take you down with him.

“When we were on the couch yesterday, it took everything in me to hold back. Why? Why did you pull away from me?” He demands hotly.

“We shouldn’t,” is your weak response. Even to your human ears, it sounds void of conviction. You’re not sure why you’re stubbornly clinging on to these outdated moral principles when it’s clear that you want the opposite of what you say.

Jimin isn’t fooled by your claims, either, “How can you say that when your pussy calls out to me? Just look at you. Noona, you’re fucking drenched.”

He’s right. You can already feel your panties stick to your folds, damp with your arousal. The color on the apples of your cheeks deepens and you narrow your stance, hoping that by crossing your legs you will somehow erase proof of your desire.

A sharp inhale indicates that he is aware of the hold he has on you and his lips curl into a satisfied smirk once his theories are confirmed. You can’t hide anything from him, you realize, feeling oddly vulnerable.

“Aren’t you?” he presses, intent on getting a confirmation of your arousal.

“I, um, I don’t—”

“You don’t know?” The scoff that leaves his mouth tells you that he isn’t convinced. He takes advantage of your flustered state and wedges one of his strong thighs between your own, the material of his loose-fitted jeans pressing into the juncture of your legs.

He looks down at where your bodies are connected, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I think you do.” Hands sliding down your side to settle at your hips, he uses his grip as leverage to grind you against the firm muscles of his thigh. “I think you know exactly how wet you are right now, don’t you?”

You bite your lips so hard that you think you might draw blood.

“Are you embarrassed right now, noona?” When you move to shake your head, he pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to keep your gaze leveled with his. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting me, you know. And I think at this point it’s useless to deny that much. You’re so wet right now, I can feel you through my jeans.”

The clutch on your chin prevents you from turning your head away in humiliation. Jimin’s confrontation makes you realize that there’s no use of keeping up the masquerade. Since the very start, no one was fooled by your act of indifference—in hindsight you’re not sure why you insisted so strongly on pushing Jimin away. Pride, perhaps. Or maybe the fear of admitting the extent of your desire.

You want him so much that it scares you. It scares you, not because the object of your affection is Jimin, a hybrid, but because you don’t know where your desire will lead you or what it will make you do. You’re worried that the women at the adoption center had been right all along—that you’re in way over your head, that you will never be adequate enough to take care of Jimin. How are you supposed to take care of him properly if you can’t even control yourself around him?

As if he can read your thoughts, Jimin reaches up to cup your face in his hands. The heat of his palms against your skin is comforting and you let yourself lean into his touh. “What are you so afraid of?” He whispers, thumb tracing the curvature of your lips.

“Myself,” you admit quietly, not daring to meet his gaze.

“Don’t be.” And maybe that’s all you’ve been waiting to hear all this time because you feel yourself give in to his words and your desire. Jimin’s senses must be more attuned than you thought—or perhaps he’s just incredibly perceptive—but he seems to notice your change in demeanor right away, his hands angling your head up as he leans in closer to your face.

“I’m going to kiss you right now,” he says, pausing as he waits for an objection or a sound of protest. When none comes, he swoops right in, lips landing on yours awkwardly. It’s then that you notice how nervous he is; he swallows thickly, pulling back to gauge your reaction.

“I really want to kiss you some more but...” He inhales sharply and lets his head rest on your shoulder as he collects himself. “You smell so fucking good, fuck. I need to taste you right now or I’ll go mad.”

“Go ahead.” His head snaps up at your words in surprise. “I want you to.”

Jimin’s entire body vibrates with excitement at the prospect of finally having a taste of you from the source. He’s quick to tug your pants and underwear down. In his haste, he leaves them bunched around your legs, too focused on diving his head between your thighs.

He doesn’t waste any time, spreading your legs wide open so that he can have an unobstructed view of his meal. The sight of him on his knees in front of you, looking up at you like a three course meal worthy of five star restaurants is enough to make you shudder in pleasure.

You’re helpless to the onslaught of pleasure he brings you.

It’s no wonder—Jimin laps at your center like a man starved. With skillful swipes of his tongue, he licks up every leak of your arousal around your entrance, making sure to collect each drop on his muscle. You can tell from the way he sucks and licks at your folds, eyes closed in silent rapture, that he genuinely enjoys the act and that it isn’t just a chore to get through before penetration. His undisguised eagerness excites you. Now you understand what people mean when they say that enthusiasm makes up for experience.

Knees buckling, your hands slide against the wall as your hips cant towards Jimin’s greedy mouth in search of your pleasure. With nowhere else to grab onto, your fingers wind through his mop of hair for stability.

Sweat beads at his hairline, and you wipe away the sheen of perspiration, pushing his hair away from his face with unexpected tenderness.

He breaks away from his meal, a string of saliva and your fluids connecting his mouth to your center. Your body shudders at the obscene sight and a whimper falls from your lips before you have time to stop it.

“Yeah? You like that?” His hands slide up your thighs to hold them open so that he can get a clear view of your soaking pussy. “Am I eating you out just how you like?”

He nips your inner thigh, prompting a verbal response. “Ah! Yes, yes, I love it! You’re doing so good, Jimin, please don’t stop.” Pleased with your answer, he laves the sting of the bite with his tongue, close but not close enough to where you want him the most.

You tug at his hair, urging him to dive back between your legs. “Please, I need—I need you t-to lick me clean.” You barely have time to finish stringing your sentence together and Jimin is already executing your command.

Wet and slick sounds resound throughout the apartment, intermingled with low rumbles of pleasure and breathy sighs. As his tongue works against your folds with sloppy strokes, your grip on his locks tightens as you use him to anchor yourself. Fleetingly, you’re worried that you’re being too rough but the purrs of satisfaction assure you that he doesn’t seem to mind the harsh treatment of his scalp.

You don’t wait for his approval or instructions. Your hips seem to have a mind of their own; they grind your soaking center into his awaiting mouth, pushing down on the flat of his tongue for friction. Every time Jimin’s nose bumps into your engorged clit, zaps of pleasure shoot up your spine, leaving a tingling sensation that can be felt all the way down to your toes. Every time he growls in response to a particularly wanton moan, you can feel the vibrations shoot straight to your sensitive nub.

As much as you want him to focus on your aching clit, you know that nothing will stop him from licking away at your entrance, the taste of you too good to pass up. Not that this method isn’t satisfying—you can feel the coil in your lower belly being pulled tight with every swipe of his tongue against your folds.

Just when you think that the pressure building in your stomach is about to snap in half, he wrenches away from your grasp. The sight of him is sufficient to quell your protests; you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as sexy as his disheveled state—eyes glassy with desire, chin shiny and wet, lips plump and red, hair sticking up in every which direction.

He looks so far gone that you expect him to pin you against the wall right then and there, but he holds his composure, leaning down to kiss you instead.

His plush lips are as soft as you imagined they would be and he kisses you like he has something to prove. It’s sticky and messy, with no finesse or rhythm whatsoever. And although you can taste yourself on his tongue, it doesn’t turn you off like it usually does. He licks into your mouth hungrily, sucking your tongue and biting your lip until you cry out.

“Are you going to take me now?” you find the courage to ask.

Jimin shakes his head, licking at your bottom lip to alleviate the sting. “Not here. On the bed. When I start I won’t be able to stop, so I need you to be comfortable.” He searches your eyes. “Are you... Are you sure you still want this? With me?”

“Jimin I...” You take your bottom lip between your teeth while you choose your next words carefully. “I want to be yours.”

You seal your confession with a press of your lips against his. It’s sweet, the way he smiles into the kiss, sighing contently when you pull away. The tender moment is brief. Lust quickly roars back to life, your core throbbing, aching to be filled up.

You both stumble into the bedroom in a mess of tangled limbs. Jimin nudges you onto the bed, his hands busy with the task of slipping off your clothes. Warm palms familiarize themselves with the slopes and curves of your body. You shudder, wanting Jimin to drape himself over you and envelop you in his warmth.

“I want you on all fours.”

His grip on your hips tightens as he lifts you up, rearranging you so that you’re bent over for him, ass high in the air for his viewing pleasure. There’s no doubt that the position leaves you vulnerable to his scrutiny and for that reason alone you’re glad he can’t see your cheeks flame with shame and arousal.

The position should be degrading. You're certain that you paint quite the picture—back arched with your head bowed in submission, your ass and pussy on shameless display. It’s the standard position female hybrids adopt during sex; you know this much. And the knowledge that you’re so willing to bend yourself over for Jimin just like one of his bitches ready to be bred, arouses you more than you expect.

“So pretty like this, noona.” The pads of his fingertips trace non-identifiable patterns on the surface of your skin and goosebumps break out wherever he touches. You can feel the heat of his gaze peruse your body. “God, I’ve thought about this every day.”

You can’t hold back your gasp of surprise when he inserts two fingers into you without warning. As your body eagerly welcomes the intrusion, small moans begin to freely fall from your open mouth. Jimin’s fingers pump in and out of you at a glacial pace and no matter how much you whine for more, his tempo remains the same.

Only when he deems you ready for his cock does he pull his digits out, his hand glistening, coated in your slick. You moan at the loss, feeling your walls clench down around nothing.

“Pretty girl wants my cock,” he coos after ridding himself of his clothing. “I’ll give you what you want, don’t worry.”

He slides his thick erection back and forth against your lips until it glistens with your arousal. The feel of his hard shaft rubbing into your clit makes your hips buck impatiently, earning a tut of disapproval from Jimin. When you finally feel him lining himself up at your entrance, you tense up in anticipation for what’s to come.

“Do you feel that?” His cock slides in deep, your cunt hot and welcoming. You can only moan in response, already too far gone to provide a coherent answer.

Jimin stays buried in your slick heat, enjoying the way your core clenches around him when you squirm around, desperate for movement. You feel pleasantly full, his cock nestled snugly in your heat. One of his hands presses down on your lower back, keeping you pinned in place, and he takes the moment to admire the way you’ve stretched to accommodate his girth. You can’t imagine how good it feels for him because the fit is so snug.

“J-Jimin...” The moan of his name comes out hoarse, broken. If you were a little more lucid, you would be embarrassed by how wrecked you sound. “Feels so g-good. Aa—uunh, can feel you so deep.”

“You’re taking me so well, noona,” he hisses, jaw tense as he struggles to hold himself back. “Your pussy is recognizing its owner.”

You can hear the pleased smirk spread across his face even if you can’t see it. His words spark something within you—embarrassment mingled with white hot pleasure. A small part of you can’t believe you’re letting a hybrid dominate you when society dictates that it should be the other way around. But that voice in your head is promptly snuffed out, arousal putting an end to any bigoted thoughts.

The first real thrust of his hips makes shivers run down your spine. A loud moan gets stuck in your throat. You’re unable to do anything but lay there and take it, too overcome with numbing pleasure. He rolls his hips into yours again, tentative, and you can imagine how enticing he looks, firm muscles flexing and straining as he works himself into you. Each measured stroke leaves you panting, unsure if you want more or if you’ve reached your limits.

Suddenly he goes still, much to your frustration, causing you to shift your hips back in a silent cry for more. When that fails to do the trick, you squeeze your walls around him, hoping this time to elicit a reaction from him. A growl reverberates in his chest, dick twitching inside of you, his nails digging into your sides in warning. Subdued, you sink further into the mattress; pliant and waiting.

Taking his time, he pulls out, until only the head of his cock is left in. A beat passes by, much too slowly to your liking, before he pushes back in, unwilling to stay away from your warmth for long.

The gradual stretch feels just as good the second time around, if not better. There’s so much natural lubrication that your slick canal easily accommodates the girth of his cock. Seeing that there is no discomfort on your part, Jimin naturally falls into a fast rhythm, his thrusts quick and precise. The force of his movements has his hips slamming against your ass, balls slapping your clit.

Lust envelops you in its grasp, clouding your senses, until all you know is the mind-numbing pleasure between your legs. You swear that you can’t feel your legs anymore and if it wasn’t for Jimin’s firm grip around your middle, you probably would already have toppled over in a heap on the bed.

“My cum was made for you,” his hot breath fans the crook of your ear as he coaxes moan after moan from your parted lips. “Are you going to be a good bitch and take it?”

You mewl in assent, hungry. “Please!”

“Gonna fill you up so well.” He licks your ear, tugging the lobe between his teeth until you cry out for more. “Fuck you full of my seed. Oh? You’d like that?”

“Fucking—oh my god,” you babble, reduced to incoherence. “I want it.”

“You’re such a good girl.” Each hard thrust coaxes a string of incomprehensible profanities and moans from your parted mouth. “You take a fucking so well, I’m impressed.”

He sounds so proud that you can’t help but preen at the praise.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he rasps, kneading the supple flesh of your ass. “Hm? How good am I making my master feel?”

“Oh god,” your hands grapple for purchase as he quickens his pace, his fingers digging into your skin with enough strength to leave splotches of color. You’re so far gone that you don’t even register the question being asked until he has to repeat it for you.

“How does my cock make you feel, huh?” Draping his body over yours, he squats down and readjusts his position so that he can enter you from a different angle. Like this he’s able to fuck you with abandon, his hips rutting into yours like you were made for it.

“Good, so, mmngnh, you’re going so hard, I, fuuuck.” You feel yourself sliding down against the cotton sheets, but Jimin is quick to pull your hips back into position. “You fill me up, so deep, I’m so f-full.”

Jimin growls into your ear, breath hot, nipping and licking any surface of skin he can get his mouth on. The column of your neck and your shoulders sting from the attention he gives you, the skin littered with bites in hues of rose and lavender.

Snapping his hips with renewed urgency, you tremble as he keeps you pinned in place with his body. Sweat lines your brow, trickles down your back. Your eyes are glassy with unshed tears, your lips red and swollen, drool trickling down the sides of your mouth. Every movement jostles you slightly forward, breasts swinging, but his hips chase after you, not pausing even for a second. You can’t keep up with the rapid pace—your body is completely boneless; his to command and do as he pleases.

“I’m going to plug you full of my cum,” he snarls, one of his hands snaking up to grope at your breast. “I’ll have you sit around full of it so that any other man knows that this pussy is mine. They’ll take one whiff of you and know that you took it like a bitch in heat, begging and eager to take my seed.”

Your core clenches up, shaken by his lewd words. Sensing that your end is in sight, he continues, his cock plowing into you in tandem with his spew of filth. “Y-yeah, you love the idea of walking around, my cum dripping down your thighs, don’t you, huh? Next time we go see Hoseok, I’ll have you wear a short skirt with no p-panties so there’s no doubt that you’re my bitch.”

A loud moan rips itself from his throat, the image getting to him. Jimin works his hips into yours with urgency, his fingers digging into yours painfully as his pace falters. His dick twitches inside of you once, twice, before spurting ropes of cum against your walls. The feeling of him painting you white is enough to push you over the edge, no clitoral stimulation needed.

Jimin keeps himself lodged inside of you until he’s sure that you’ve taken everything that he’s able to give. You’re not sure how long he stays like that but you don’t comment on it, mouth too parched to talk.

Taking great care to pull out slowly, he keeps your hips angled high in the air and takes two of his fingers and plunges them inside of you to prevent his seed from leaking out. Still keeping his fingers inside of you, he turns you around on your back to arrange you in a more comfortable position.

After taking a moment to catch your breath and steady your racing heart, you finally find your voice. It’s scratchy and fucked-out, but at least you’re comprehensible.

“Are you going to stay like that all night?” you quirk an eyebrow, casting a glance between your legs.

“No, I’m just waiting on you. Need you to be ready to go again,” he stretches his fingers into a v-shape inside of you, reveling in the way your features twist in surprise and a whimper escapes your lips.

“Okay but how long are—wait, what the—Jimin!” you scramble up to stare at his cock in wonder. It’s pink and completely covered with traces of your shared orgasms, but what shocks you is how hard it still is.

“I think,” he pushes you onto your back and climbs up over you, “that I can go for another two rounds.”

“Two?!”

“Well, I’m not in a rut right now so I’m not really sure...” Jimin tilts his head in contemplation, his shaggy hair falling over his brown eyes. “Your ovulation must have triggered some of my instincts to mate, but it’s... different than usual.”

With his one available hand he tugs at his cock, spreading the fluids all over his shaft. You can only watch, transfixed. His small hand makes his cock look twice as big and tempting.

“Different?” you mutter, your attention diverted.

He smirks, amused, and starts to finger you once he notices how heated up you’re getting. Matching the pace of the hand around his cock, he gets you ready for the second round.

“Well, firstly, I didn’t knot you.” You’re only half-aware of his explanation, thoroughly distracted by the way his fingers slide against your walls. “I’m not sure if that can happen since you’re human but I guess we’ll figure it out as we go along... And secondly... Things aren’t as intense as when female hybrids go into heat... Not in a bad way! I think I have more control this way... I don’t feel like...like I’m on drugs, I guess? I feel more aware of what’s going on.”

“So it’s a good thing?” you ask, unsure.

“It’s good.” He leans down to brush his nose against yours. “I think my body is adjusting to yours. I don’t think you would be able to handle me during my ruts, it might be dangerous...”

“Why?”

“Well, for one,” he squeezes in a third finger next to the other two already inside of you. “My ruts last for days.”

“Days?!” you squeak, eyes wide as you register his words.

“You can barely handle me like this... A good girl like you would pass out after the second round, no question.”

You narrow his eyes at him, sensing a challenge. “Yeah? I can take it better than any bitch.”

Jimin’s chuckle is abruptly cut out as you force him onto his back. Triumph is etched onto your features as you take his leaking length in your fist and line it up at your entrance.

“Let me prove it to you.” You can see Jimin’s conflicting desires rage war on his face. Torn between the instinctual need to dominate you and the desire to please you, he stays where you want him, his hands on your hips ready to flip you over at any moment’s notice.

“Why don’t you be a good boy and take it, hm?”

#do u wanna know how many angry cocker spaniel videos i watched #but at least now i know their ears don't point up #or wtvr the dog terminology is #jimin smut #bts smut #bts scenarios #jimin scenario #jimin #kpop smut #nldkfdjdlk this took me forever!!! im glad it's over n done with phew

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