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sakufilms · 8 months

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please wake up ; h.h.

𓂃 ⋆ 𓈒 masterlist

summary. instead of stoick dying after toothless is under the bewilderbeasts control, you, hiccup's younger sister, are almost hit, resulting in tears and desperation.

pairing. hiccup haddock x sister!reader

genre. angst, hurt/comfort, platonic.

word count. 2.8k

warnings. for plot reasons, valka was taken by cloudjumper when hiccup was 4 and you were a baby, near death experiences, violence, lots of angst.

✐ i couldn’t find the original post for the gif (i found it on pinterest, reposted), but the username is in the top left corner of the gif ^^

The amount of fear that ran through Hiccup when Drago yelled out his bone chilling scream, waving his staff around in the air… it was immeasurable. The aggression that the throaty sound held in it sent a chill down Hiccup’s spine. He knew at that moment, that he was in serious trouble.

The ground shook with each step that the bewilderbeast took towards them, and rather than the calm awe and serenity that Hiccup felt when he met his mothers bewilderbeast, looking into the eyes of this one made him feel a fear that he couldn’t get rid of.

“No dragon can resist the alpha’s command.” Drago said lowly, his voice scratching its way out of his throat. “So, he who controls the alpha, controls them all.”

A hint of rage settled in Hiccups veins as Drago spoke, pointing his staff towards Toothless.

The rage nearly dissipated, a low sound emitting throughout snow and ice covered land. The sound came from the bewilderbeast, it’s pupils narrowed at Toothless. Toothless began shaking his head, making a noise of discomfort. “Toothless?” Hiccup said worriedly.

Toothless continued to whimper, shaking his head around. “T-toothless, you okay, bud? What’s going on?” But all of the words leaving Hiccups mouth did nothing.

Drago’s voice sounded again. “Witness true strength. The strength of will over others.” Drago was holding up his staff again, the pointed end pointing to Toothless, who suddenly rose, ever so still. “In the face of it… you are nothing.”

When Hiccup realized he was now looking at the end of the staff, it being pointed directly at his chest, he knew that trouble was arising. Toothless slowly turned towards him, pupils as narrow as the bewilderbeast’s were. “Uh,” Hiccup slowly backed away from his dragon, “What did he just tell you?”

Toothless got low to the ground, snarling as he slowly crept over towards his rider, who kept backing away. “Toothless, come on. What’s the matter with you?” He felt the desperation begin to tear at his heart, knowing that there was almost nothing he could do. And sudden moves or sounds could result in the controlled Toothless to pounce on him, resulting in his demise. Even if Hiccup could get a hit in, how much would that break his heart? Would he be able to hurt his best friend?

“No, no, no, no. Come on. What are you doing? Knock it off.” Hiccup knew he was being backed up into ice, and soon he would have no where to go. “Stop!” He yelled out, “snap out of it!” But the attempt was useless, as Toothless kept his slow, creeping pace.

The world around his became almost meaningless. It was just him, Toothless, and mountains of ice trapping him in. “Toothless, no! Toothless.”

Toothless hissed, preparing to launch a heated breath of fire at him, and he felt his heart drop. “Don’t!”

He almost didn’t hear the broken cry of his name being shouted, his eyes remaining on Toothless’ sharp ones. “Stop!”

“Hiccup!” The voice shouted again, and with wide eyes, he looked, and his heart sunk further. You were running right towards him, determination and fear in your eyes. The painful realization of what you were doing came all too quick, and his fear that was once reserved for himself was now almost entirely for you. “Y/n! No!”

But it was too late, you were right next to him, and then crashing into him. Hiccup slid across the snow covered ground, gasping in fear of what he’d see when he looked at you.

He looked just in time to see the blast of fire miss you—just in time to see it hit the ice behind you, breaking a peace of it off as it came crashing down onto you.

“No!”

He startled himself with the cry that left his lips. The world around him faded out again. It was only you, him, and his shallow breaths. “No…” He said again, the disbelief strong in his tone. This couldn’t be happening.

He ran over to you, feeling like he was going to collapse. He was by your side in seconds—he was by your side and there you were, covered in shards of teal-blue ice. Your eyes were shut; your breathing was barely there. He feared every one of your breaths would be your last.

He groaned as he pushed the ice off of you, piece by piece. As each shard slid off, an already growing bruise was left in its wake wherever your skin was visible.

The despair was crushing him; engulfing him; making a home into his heart that was sinking even further as it buried itself into the ever so cold snow beneath him. He grabbed and pulled at your left arm, pulling you off of your side and onto your back. “Y/n!”

Hiccup hardly paid attention to his mother dropping by his side, and his father close behind her. Your breaths were still so shallow.

“Y/n… Oh, my Gods.” His breath caught in his throat, and he faintly felt his mothers hand rest on his shoulder. For the better of his own sanity, he pressed to fingers to your neck, sighing in relief at the slow and weak feeling of your heartbeat beneath his fingers. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“Wake up… please wake up.” He ignored every sound around him, including the sound of his friends arriving to the scene. He couldn’t help but to wrap his arms around you, being ever so careful and gentle with your injured form. He felt like he had already lost you, the thought making tears roll down his face. He couldn’t believe that you had gotten hurt instead of him: the target.

You—the younger sister who came into his life when he was just 4 years old. The sister who listened to him when everyone turned a blind eye and pretended like he didn’t exist. You were always there, and as he held you close, he couldn’t get rid of the fear that soon you would be here no longer.

All of his attention was on you, until he heard a low coo from his very own dragon: the dragon who did this.

As Toothless’ snout brushed up against your hand, he couldn’t help the anger that enveloped him. Deep down he knew it wasn’t Toothless’ fault, but something else told him he needed something to be angry at. After seeing the way Toothless’ had unknowingly injured you, his emotions got the best of him. “No! Get away from her!” Hiccup harshly shoved Toothless away, feeling guilt at the way his dragon whined in response, but Hiccup was spiralling.

He stood to his feet, looking down at Toothless. “Go on! Get out of here!”

Toothless took a small step forward, his eyes holding sadness at being shouted at, but Hiccup shouted again. “Get away!”

Hiccup was a mix of emotions as Toothless coward away and ran off.

“It’s not his fault.” Valka said softly, her sadness making her voice wobble only slightly. “You know that.”

And Hiccup did know that. He fell to his knees again, fresh tears rolling down his face as he looked at you. Your eyes were still closed.

The bewilderbeast roared out, but Hiccup almost didn’t hear it as his mother spoke. “Good dragons under the control of bad people… do bad things.”

“Come on!” Hiccup heard someone shout, along with the sound of Toothless whimpering. He looked up, and Drago was riding a once again controlled Toothless, leading him away. “Gather the men and meet me at Berk!”

Hiccup felt an urgency rush through him, and he jumped up onto his feet. “Toothless!” He cried out to him, but Valka held him back. He felt useless as the alpha roared out, and Drago’s men prepared to leave the island.

He couldn’t help but to continue to cry. He just lost his best friend, and he looked down at you, worried that he would lose another. He dropped down beside you again, feeling like the entire world was against him. He felt lost and scared. He couldn’t lose you. He doesn’t know what he’d do without you.

“Hiccup…” Stoick said from behind him. Hiccup could already picture the look on his face based of the sadness in his voice.

“No, Dad.” Why were they acting like you were already dead? You just had to wake up.

As the tears kept falling down his cheeks, his friends backed away and watched from a good distance, as he needed his space. His parents stayed close behind him.

“We have to— we have to do something. Why isn’t anyone doing anything? My sister is dying and you’re all just standing around waiting for—“ Waiting for her to die.

“Hiccup,” Gobber said softly, a pained sigh leaving the man’s lips, “there’s not much we can do, right now. Not here. Back home, maybe things would be better. But we don’t have our dragons to get there, Hiccup.”

Hiccup remained looking at you, still. “So, why are you all acting like you don’t care?” Maybe that was harsh, but he was still spiralling.

“Hiccup, of course we care.” When Astrid spoke, Hiccup looked at her and found a world of sadness in her eyes. Maybe she was worried for you; maybe she felt guilt and pity for him; maybe it was both. The the look in her eyes made him feel less alone.

Hiccup was silent for a few moments, and then, “There’s nothing we can do?” He chose to ignore the way his voice cracked with emotion.

His father sighed, and removed his helmet, holding it to his chest. “Nothing we can do but pray that she wakes up.”

Hiccup inhaled deeply. “I need a second alone with her.”

He didn’t receive a response, he only heard the sound of footsteps slowly backing away.

With a shaking hand, he took your hand into his, watching a teardrop fall down and land on your fingertip. The desperation in him had been making a slow incline, and he wasn’t sure how much of this he could take.

“You have to wake up.” He whispered, falling back down to wrap an arm around you. “Come on. Wake up.”

But as your breathing remained slow, he felt the tears roll down a little faster, and he couldn’t help the sob that slipped past his lips. “Wake up. Come on, what are you doing? Get up…”

A hitch in your breath.

As the sound reaches his ears, and he feels the pattern of your breath change for only a moment, his head snaps up. Your face is neutral, a scrape and bruise on your right cheekbone.

“Y/n?…”

He’s filled with a sense of hope, and just as it feels like it was a trick of his mind, your breath catches again, and your brows move the smallest amount.

“Oh, my Gods.” Hiccup breathes out. “Y/n? Hey… wake up, come on.”

Your eyes began to flutter open and it’s like Hiccup and finally breathe again. He leans forward so that you see him, and your eyes meet his. “Hiccup?”

Hiccup laughs, light and airy, and nods. “Yeah, I’m here. You’re okay.

Your face scrunches up a little as you become aware of the pain running across your skin. Hiccup notices and a slight frown lands on his face.

Your hand squeezes his, “I’m glad you’re okay, Hiccup.”

Hiccup can’t help the shock that runs through him. “You’re glad I’m okay? I’m glad you’re okay…” he then sighs, thinking about how he nearly lost you. The ache in his heart was still there, like a poison latching onto him, killing him slowly. He couldn’t believe how close to death you had gotten. “I thought I was gonna lose you.”

And then he was hugging you again, being as gentle as possible. He felt you wrap an arm around his back, but he could tell that by the way your arm was shaking, it was taking more of a toll on you than you’d like to admit. Hiccup pulled back. “Don’t strain yourself.”

Your eyes were still only about half open and he wouldn’t be surprised if you passed out soon. “Don’t worry, you’re gonna be fine. I promise.”

But his words could only be heard so clearly as the world began to fade once again. It had taken so much of your energy to stay conscious as long as you did.

“No, no, no. Keep your eyes open, okay? Stay awake, stay awake— Dad!”

The last thing you saw was your brother and parents hovering over you, and then you were welcomed into a deep sleep once again.

⿻

The rest of the day went by so fast, yet so slow. Hiccup felt pride for him and Toothless—who he had since forgiven and apologized to—for being able to fight against Drago and the alpha. After this, it was clear that Toothless had earned his place as the alpha. However, as all of this had been happening, you were the only thing on Hiccup’s mind. He was fighting for everyone, and most importantly to avenge you. This was Drago’s fault—all of this. Hiccup had to do something about it, and he did.

It was likely clear how much he was worrying for you, because not long after the bewilderbeast had dove into the water, taking Drago with him, his mother was at his side. He knew from the look on her face alone that she was saying he should go to you. He didn’t waste a second.

He ran up to his house, passing by people cheering and shouting out of glee, and he pushed open his front door and ran straight to your room. There you were, under the care of Gothi, tucked into your bed and bandaged wherever needed. It was honestly a wonder that they were even able to get you to Berk while you were unconscious, but they managed. Hiccup was just glad to see you now, alive and breathing.

Gothi nodded at him, making her way out of the room. Hiccup remained still for a moment, looking down at you. It pained him to see you like this.

Eventually he sat on the edge of the bed, and looked down at his hands. He felt so guilty about you getting hurt. It felt like it was his fault, somehow. You had jumped to save him, and this is where it brought the both of you. Surely, he was partially at fault for this outcome.

“You’re not blamin’ yourself, are you?”

At the sound of your voice, Hiccup whipped his head around, eyes wide and burning with tears that haven’t even quite built up yet. “You’re awake.”

You nodded lightly, looking down at your bandaged and bruised body. You didn’t regret a thing you did.

“Why… did you do that?” Hiccup started slowly. He didn’t expect this to be what he decided to talk about, but he got to thinking and his mouth was moving before he even realized it. “I mean… save me—“ He took a deep breath, brows furrowing at the topic at hand.

“What else did you want me to do?” You said. You sounded determined, strangely enough.

“I—“

“I couldn’t just… stand there.”

“I wanted you to.”

You sighed this time. “And what? Watch you die? You could’ve.”

Hiccup saw tears begin to form in your own eyes, and he somewhat felt bad for bringing this up right now. “You could’ve, too.”

“I know.” You stated. There was a brief pause as you both collected your thoughts. You didn’t want to argue about this. Neither of you wanted to make anger out of grieving for someone who hadn’t even died. “I care about you, Hiccup. You looked just as scared as I felt. Even if you don’t want to admit it. I don’t know what I would’ve done with myself if you got hurt, or worse. I love you, but I’m not sorry for what I did. I’d rather be hurt than you be hurt instead.”

Hiccup gazed down at you and realized in that moment that you were just like any other Haddock—stubborn as hell. Hiccup and his father were some of the most stubborn people on Berk, if not the most stubborn, and he wouldn’t be surprised that if he got to know his mother a little more, she would turn out to be the same.

Having such a quality can be unbearable at times, but it made for some pretty promising trust with the people you love.

“Well,” Hiccup broke into a smile, chuckling lightly. “I would do the same for you.”

You laughed softly. “I’d hope so.”

Hiccup was shocked when you started pushing yourself up on the bed all of a sudden. “Hey, woah, woah, woah. What are you doing?”

“Relax. I know my limits.” You snickered, and then winced. All of a sudden your arms were around Hiccup and Hiccup wasn’t sure if it was the stupidest or sweetest thing you’ve ever done. Probably both.

Hiccup hugged you back, his eyes closing as it felt like the day was finally calming down. “Don’t ever do anything like that again.”

An amused scoff, and then, “no promises.”

Definitely a Haddock.

@ sakufilms

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intoloopin · 2 months

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A CHAPTER: THE SHARP AND THE BLUNT (PART 1/2).

tw(s): panic attack. dubious consent (haruki is very weird and forward about initiating sex!). alcohol abuse & alcoholism. semi-smut? (there is making out). miscommunication (a warning because I personally think it's constant and frustrating). insinuation and direct discussions of sexual trauma, abuse by a past partner, abuse of workplace power and stalking. internalized homophobia (in part one, a hint). If I missed anything, please tell me! starring: Lee Hanjae. Fukunaga Haruki. featuring: Dylan Hwang / Hwang Chihoon. Their fellow LOOPiN members (old OT10, no Gyujin, a lot of Beomseok). Delilah Franco. Oh Sunyoung. Choi Sangwon. Blonde Bob Piss Girl (a serious character).

timeline: quick flashback to 2018 | early to the end of mid 2022.

word count: 13,405 words. author's notes: welcome everyone to hanruki fuckery part 1 a.k.a the most frustrating and life draining four months in Hanjae's whole entire life a.k.a big sadness, the piece split into two. this one is over 23K long, and was originally intended to be read in one go but! It Got Too Big. The conclusion will be coming out later this week! prepare for a Haruki all in par with the one in the prologue, which falls in between this mess on the timeline. this is a work of a whole month, but it's also a work of two years: a whole central plot, planned and done. title's from this song! give it a listen once you get trought the bigger picture, maybe, for catharsis purposes. stay safe! remember you deserve to be safe, always!

November 12, 2018.

Hanjae had vowed not to cry anymore when he got this job – in the same vehement way he had promised at twelve that he would no longer make a sound if he wailed after school, face buried under piles and piles of unfinished homework, to medium success, just the right amount of it to call it success.

He could still tear up once in a while, if things got though, and that was it; a clause added after his first exhausting week as a trainee. The number escalated to once every two business days after he was shoved to debut on LOOPiN, out of all the upcoming boy groups there were.

There was a story taunting the New Wave Music corridors back then. Someone did something unspeakable to someone else, and it caused an expulsion, followed by the immediate need for a new rapper, a new dancer. And there was Hanjae; a BBC trainee for three months, far removed from the Boy Of The Week gossip, who couldn’t exactly sing but had great enunciation, and had been dancing before he was even walking…

He cried now, openly, defeated. It had been an awful day for LOOPiN 2on1.

Their short lived promotions had played out like a sunset: a big golden start – so much press, so much momentum, so many views on the ‘Baby Don’t Stop’ dance practice video, where he and Haruki were using plain shirts and even plainer jeans – quickly diluting into the darkest of times – the controversies, LOOPiN first ones, and exclusively about them.

A resurrected Facebook photo of Hanjae on his graduation with a bandage around his hand, matched with the lingering traces of his poorly removed tattoo there painted him as a school delinquent; Haruki’s drop out stories reintroduced him as the big drunken failure of KArts’s international program.

They were going to stop going to music shows, the company had decided that day, and Sangwon told them on the drive back that they had just done their last one. They had gone up on stage as a duo for the last last time.

With a strong sniff, Hanjae unburied his face from in between his knees and looked at his hand, at the faint shape of a badly drawn rose on his skin. His dad had been adamant about getting it out the moment he took a look at it, still involved in protective plastic. He used the little money off his college safe to arrange a laser session that Hanjae skipped. A year later, Hanjae managed to schedule another one with the partial sponsor of MBN, the company he was stuck on before BBC. He had to do it in a shady place, at a bigger cost: bad skin scarring.

His mom had been relieved to see it fade even more nonetheless, up until the black tattoo turned into something that almost looked like a peculiar and old scar, if you didn’t give it a second glance; and no one was ever giving Hanjae a second glance.

“Let that be a lesson,” she told him, nose turned up and away from him. “Don’t jump head on into things again, Lee Hanjae. That’s no way to live. Watch yourself, watch your company. You’re not a kid anymore. Do you have no goals? Do you want nothing for yourself? Are you that selfish? Can’t you think, for once, about something that isn’t–”

Haruki was the one who found him, sitting on the floor, small and tense against the laundry machine, waiting for everyone’s clothes to be cleaned – the member’s, Sangwon’s, the cleaning auntie's aprons she had forgotten on top of the dinner table last week. Cleaning was always his scapegoat way of attending to something, even if very small.

Maybe if the company decided to drop him, he thought, Hanjae could still be around as the dorm’s janitor.

“So you’re not from Seoul,” Haruki said, leaning against the door frame with an air of mischief around him, something light on his step despite it all.

It was a statement, not an ask, because he knew this. It was one of the few trivia points they had exchanged during pauses on music shows or water breaks in between choreography practice – ‘What’s your age? What’s your blood type? How many siblings? Oh, none? You’re so lucky, Hanjae, so lucky. All siblings are demons. You aren’t missing a thing.’

Hanjae didn’t even startle; Haruki often popped up at places like that, picking up conversations from days, weeks ago like they were merely put on pause.

Without uttering a word and barely looking up, he still nodded his head no.

Haruki nodded back, a pacifying smile showing up on his face, said, “Cool. Great. How about I show you a place?”

‘The place’, he informed Hanjae, was not all that nice, or clean, and he really shouldn’t wear nice shoes or nice clothes tonight, but at least it wasn’t far, at least they had permission.

“Who’s permission?” Hanjae asked, taking the pile of clothes to the dryer, smoothing wrinkles off them just for something to do.

Haruki waved manager Choi’s front keys in his hand, and Sangwon’s horrendous keychains clanked against each other: a green pine tree and a colorful ball. “The one that matters. What do you say, uh? You’re in? Can I count you in?”

He could count Hanjae in.

[...]

They stopped by a convenience store on the way, some couple of blocks down the dorm, and by then night had already conquered all of Seoul. Inside, the middle aged lady behind the counter rushed to give Haruki a hug, a paper bag and a discount.

“He’s a street cat I found,” she leaned in to explain when she caught Hanjae anxiously looking at him going straight to the back of the store, near the freezers, near the alcohol, with the ease of someone who could do so with his eyes shut. “He’s a good foreign friend.”

“I’m not!” Haruki shouted back, but he was grinning. “Are you not watching the news?”

The noona playfully rolled her eyes, joked back, “What news? You’re not on the news!”

She hushed Hanjae to go catch up with him with an enerved wave, told him to take a look around. “It’s on the house,” she winked. “You’re both so skinny, and you must be working hard, so just take something tasty and leave quickly.”

Trailing a couple feet behind Haruki on the aisle, Hanjae picked up a package of noodles and a modest four-set of Terra cans to accompany his endless Heineken bottles, light green on light green. While Hanjae bagged everything with caution, Haruki slipped a red won note on the balcony when the owner stopped paying attention to them, and off they went again.

Haruki made them walk ten more minutes to the left, and the left, the left again, coming to an abrupt stop in front of an abandoned lot, pure dirt and weeds, the sort that seemed to have turned into an open dump for the neighborhood. It looked no different or less disgusting than the million of others around less central Jungnang; it didn’t look like it could be a spot.

Yet Haruki kept braving straight through the grass without stopping, guiding Hanjae behind him to only step where he was stepping, to keep his eyes glued to the floor and watch out for broken glass. He settled when they were deep into the lot, mere feet away from a big hill. There was a clean view of an uneven street if you looked down, he said, filled with houses that were almost all pretty. Hanjae chose to just trust Haruki’s word on that; he couldn’t dare to come close enough to the drop to peek and see.

Haruki standed the bag of drinks for him to hold, and Hanjae had to do so with both hands. From a spot behind them, he pushed two retriable chairs out of a bulk set against a moldy tree, the metal in them corrupted by rust on the edges, and set them up, sat down, tapped at the other seat with his foot in invitation.

Hanjae took a long and anxious moment to comply. Under him, the chair dangled sideways even if he stayed very, very still.

With the convenience bag back in his domain, Haruki cracked three beers open, and handed Hanjae one, kept the other two: one in each hand, a Heineken and a Terra.

“Never had this one. I heard they’re the same thing,” he said, taking a sip from each and frowning, analyzing them. Hanjae stayed quiet.

He had only drank with his dad and uncles one time, at last year’s Chuseok, and hadn’t been much of a fan of anything. Still, he took a sip of beer.

Haruki at least had grace enough to let him swallow and contain a grimace before asking, with a strange edge to it, “So are you? A bully. A problem child. Part of a gang.”

“No,” Hanjae said, too quickly, too eager. He cleared his throat. “I’m really not, hyung, no.”

“How did it get there, then?” Haruki's look was razor sharp on Hanjae’s once tattooed hand, hard enough to make him freeze. “And why did you remove it? Just to be a trainee?”

Hanjae opened his mouth, but only to take a shaky breath in, swallow a bit more of bitter alcohol. In front of his fleeting eyes, Haruki eased just as quickly as he had hardened.

“Hanjae, we’re teammates now,” he told him. “I showed you my good spot. You can’t give me one word sentences anymore. You can’t lie.”

Hanjae considered this, and considered him from the corner of his eyes. Haruki was the LOOPiN member that Hanjae had come to know best, mostly because they didn’t have a choice, but still, he made an effort, he talked to him; he didn’t let Hanjae fall adrift. And he could have easily turned into an island: from the moment he had been transferred to New Wave, he had been an outsider, a last minute solution to a problem no one would explain to him – who left? Why? Was he worse than them? Was he better?

“You’re better,” Haruki had said, when Hanjae brought it up, late at night while they had dinner alone, in the practice room, sweating and panting – a week until their debut happened. He was the only one who had bothered to tell him so. He sounded like he meant it, too. Hanjae remembers catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror over his shoulder, hair bright brown and unfamiliar, thinking even for a fleeting moment: I’m doing enough.

It was fair for him to be the first to know – the first for Hanjae to disappoint.

“I got it removed before,” he heard himself say. It was a secret, so it came out like one: whispered, slow. “Before I wanted to train. I got it with friends– my dance crew friends. It was our logo, or at least, it was going to be, one day. But I… I did a bad thing, and it stopped making sense. It didn’t fit. I didn’t fit, so. It had to go.”

The vagueness did nothing but pique Haruki’s interest. He seated more properly, then less properly; ended up putting his feet on the seat of the chair, slouching with his head supported on his knee, the exact body language of, ‘Tell me, tell me, tell me.’

“My friend– my best friend, from childhood, our team captain. He used to have a girlfriend. A girl from our class, a dancer too, someone he had been in love with forever. Later she became part of the group, and we got close, we turned into friends, and then not. Not quite that. They broke up and one hour later we got together, on the same day. We got caught. It was a mess. Everyone thought it was a shitty thing to do, that it was cheating, cheating on everyone. But I just wanted her to be my girlfriend, back then– Back then, I wanted a girlfriend more than I wanted anything...”

Hanjae felt it coming, again: the desire to recoil a bit more on himself in shame. How pathetic he had been, then; how miserable, how sad, how lonely.

He took a timid peek to the side, ready to see an irk of dismay on Haruki’s face, some justified disgust, and was surprised to not see any of that. Haruki had grown passionate and invested in the whole story, something new in his eyes, a third bottle halfway drained in his hand.

He moved his chin up, as if saying, ‘Go on’, but Hanjae couldn’t. He drained the rest of the beer.

Haruki clicked his tongue like that wouldn’t do. He shoved his chair a few inches closer so he could grab at Hanjae's arm and said, all at once, “We can not– Hanjae, look, listen, we can not be blamed for all the things, the crazy things we do when love…!” He didn't finish the sentence, just amended it into another one: “You were a teenager, you both were, and very, very brave. Very brave to tell her and date her and keep dating her even if. They were just– bad friends. Just bad friends.”

They weren’t bad friends, Hanjae knew; they weren’t the ones in the wrong. But it hurted to say it out loud, to admit what he knew was still true: how easily he burned bridges for attention, for affection, so he never did. He just knew – looked at his reflection on surfaces and knew.

He rolled and rolled the tap of the Terra until it fell off, into the can. “Did you really quit college, hyung?” Was what he asked the wind.

Haruki shifted on his seat; Hanjae could only tell because of the way it creaked. “More like college quit me,” he said, with a sad huff of air that might have been a laugh, and dropped Hanjae’s arm, drank from his bottle too.

Sadness fell over them like a veil from then on. The Terras ended and Haruki didn’t mind sharing all the other stuff he had, and the longer it went on the less shy Hanjae felt about asking. At some point Haruki said, “I guess we really fucked up, uh – with 2on1,” and Hanjae, whipping a foam mustache off his face, “Minwoo’s not talking to me,” and Haruki, almost falling over with laugher, “Oh, my, I bet not! Ha. I bet not…”, and turned reticent, fell quiet.

His eyes, Hanjae had noticed, kept darting to a spot ahead in between conversation, beyond the drop of the hill, dazed. He violently shook his head sideways everytime he caught himself drifting too far away, and ran a hand over his face, rubbing at it in a way that made Hanjae look at him in worry.

Haruki found it hilarious each time. “What is it,” he eventually said, slower than normal, harder to understand, “With you, your face?”

He got up from his chair, a sudden move that sent it falling to the floor, a loud squeak, and walked even closer.

In front of Hanjae, right in front of him, he leaned forward until he got both his hands on his face, and said, pushing the corners of his mouth up, “The mood is so– Bad! So bad! Smile! Big smile! C’mon, give me a big smile!”

There had been dirt on Haruki’s hand, and Hanjae could vaguely taste it, with how close to his lips he was pressing. He still wore his inner braces back then; he kept cutting his tongue on the same spot, never healing, never telling, and he could feel the inside of his cheeks pressing onto that sharp place, about to be pierced through.

For a moment, they stayed quiet, looking at each other head on. Hanjae was not smiling. His heart had picked up a quick pace inside his chest, was drumming – Haruki was so close, and he was so beautiful, a true magazine type beauty, all symmetry, and Hanjae knew this, but not with this much conviction, not with so much emotion.

“Ah, you know what? I like you. I decided. I do like you, now…” Haruki said, and then he grinned, bringing his face even nearer. He took a breath and Hanjae felt it on his own nose, and didn’t know what to do about it; his mind, for a moment, went static. “Nothing will happen to you, friend. I promise it. ‘Will not let it.”

Hanjae’s held breath was a painful thing to let out of his chest. “Was something– Was something going to…?”

Haruki huffed a laugh and gave his cheeks two playful taps, said, with a new found determination, “Handsome guy. Do not get sad. I will fix this for you,” and let Hanjae’s face go.

He straightened his back up and swayed slightly to the side, running a hand over his hair, fixing his bangs back into place. Haruki told him, “Late. No booze. Night over”, and extended that same hand for Hanjae to take – Hanjae who still felt like his face had gone numb, blood rushing to it.

He took the hand, and they made their way back to the dorm that way, hanging close; Like magnets, Hanjae remembers thinking, idly, and then not idly at all. Haruki’s hands were leaving behind a pressure everywhere they touched, a heat that Hanjae couldn’t shake off – he just couldn’t shake it off.

Later, when Hanjae layed in bed, sheet drawn over his entire body, he could still feel it. When he woke up the morning after, nauseated but still in the group, still safe, he could still feel it.

If he closes his eyes now, right now, he can still feel it – the sad sort of burn of a premonition misread.

January 13, 2022.

Los Angeles is sunny in a way Haegon would love to see and pretend to hate – a saddening thought Hanjae had since they landed, and that comes back to haunt him while he looks at the city passing by on the van’s window, sidewalks all golden.

Haegon’s not a loud person in his eyes, but his absence is a loud thing, pouring the life out of everyone, mostly because of the way it had been forced on them.

It had been a horrifying way to open the year: having to come forward right on the first day of 2022 to the press, headlining Haegon’s mugging and the accident, his follow up hiatus and excuse out of their ‘We Do’ promotions in the USA. And then there was having to deal with Haegon in private, angry and disappointed, not wanting to take his pain medicine, shoving his room’s door in everyone's faces, dismissing every checkup attempt with an annoyed, “It’s just a minor concussion, what the Hell! I’m not fucking dying! Get the fuck off me, I’m fine, get off, just fuck off already to the States without me! Go on! Just– just leave me already!”

They’re driving out of some media company studio around the center of Los Angeles, where they filmed two twenty minute videos in a roll, more embarrassing games than actual interviews, and Hanjae has already spent all of his ability to mend English words together.

It could have been more fun, one of their staff said, but they had to pass on the puppy interview format because of Taesong’s allergies, and Jiahang’s been dead set on pretending to be sad about it during the entire ride back to the hotel; crocodile tears and all.

Hanjae has to deal with him from the last seat on the far opposite side of the van, resting his fried blonde head against his shoulder, sighing loudly, because Dylan is also not here to amuse him – he took a bus home to Santa Monica and will stay home until they leave in two days time.

Hanjae doesn’t like provoking Taesong, doesn’t like to spoil Jiahang, but that means very little in the grand escape of the group, that goes about poking fun of Taeng like it’s a sport, that’s stuck in a position where they really can’t say no to J.J, who owns company shares; he shoots the meek figure of Taesong an apologetic look as Jiahang’s act carries on, trying to tell him: ‘I’m not a part of this, I just don’t know how to stop it.’

Thankfully, the hotel isn’t that far away, and it’s a quick torture – up until things takes a turn for the worse.

As they park and start to step out, Beomseok’s long arm blocks the door before he and Jiahang can put a single leg outside of the car.

“Stop,” he tells J.J, harsh enough to make Hanjae stumble a step back. Beomseok points a finger right at Jiahang’s face, and inch from touching his nose, says, “Stop being a fucking problem. Stop.”

It makes Jiahang livid, turns his ears bright red. He takes long stomps to the elevator, and Hanjae has to jog to keep up with him – Jiahang really has the longest legs Hanjae has ever seen on a person.

“He’s got such a stick up his ass!” He keeps on saying, barging into the room they’re both sharing with Dylan and Zhiming – angrily tossing his bag into his ‘cheap dollar store bed with the cheap dollar store sheets’ that made him go into a very similar rant last night. “He thinks he’s the only one who cares about Gon, the only one who can bother. He’s so wrong. I’m fucking worried too! I’m calling him too! I miss him! I’m more of a friend to him than that weirdo is. He’s so weird. He thinks he owns Haegon and everyone and everything, just because he’s older, just because he trained for like, one billion years! Like it’s my fault Starship thought he was too ugly to join NO.MERCY!”

“You were being annoying, Jiahang,” O.z deadpans from the corner he’s tucked in, without looking up from his manhwa.

Jiahang grunts louder. “Yeah, that was the point. Taesong knows I’m just joking around! Everyone knows!”

Zhiming lowers the comic from his face, flipping a page. His eyes have deep dark circles behind his thick glasses, marks that never go away. “Unnecessary.”

Jiahang rolls his eyes, putting his hair up on an ugly bun. He turns his back to Zhiming’s bed and mouths at Hanjae, mocking, ‘Unnecessary’.

Hanjae shrugs at him, and that annoys J.J too. He angrily puts on a movie on the tiny TV, gets a hold of his bed’s pillow and wraps himself around it, mumbling something under his breath still. The tags on the streaming app read comedy, musical. He chews on a poor nail while humming along the first song, and Hanjae tries to humor him with a tiny, “Is that Ariana Grande sunbaenim?”

It doesn’t work. Jiahang shoves his face into his pillow and says, miserable and muffled, “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t hang around with you, you’re so lame. I miss Dylan so much.”

“He invited you to go with him,” Hanjae says, helplessly. “You said you didn’t want to.”

“Of course I didn’t want to! I would have to sleep on the floor. In a bag, on the floor. And I don’t think his grandma would like me – I don’t think anyone in his family would like me,” he turns his face around, off the pillow. Hanjae can hear clearly when he says, “He needs time alone with them. For the anxieties.”

“The anxieties?” Hanjae asks him, very slowly.

Jiahang presses his mouth shut tight, straights himself up again. He undoes his ponytail, tosses his long, long hair from one side to the other, behind his ears.

He takes a quick look at Zhiming, and Hanjae does too, and they go by uncaught; O.z’s got his big headphones in now, eyes glued to his comic book.

Jiahang is still careful to whisper, “The rest of you don’t get what it's like, when you’re away from your home every day, when you know all the people you’re going to see aren’t all the ones you know – when you got family that’s like, old, and you know that time’s passing. You’re losing days with them. It gets scary, after a while. Dylan’s grandad will be 82 this year, hyung – that’s a terrifying number, that’s a maybe. That’s the anxiety. Mine, his– Zhiming’s, too. Foreign member anxiety.”

Hanjae nods, sharp. Jiahang makes a face at him, brighter – smiles, says like a tease, “Not Haruki’s, though. Haruki doesn’t miss Japan at all, if that’s what you’re wondering. He’s not anxious about that.”

Hanjae blinks. Opens his mouth, closes it, blinks again. “I wasn’t going to ask–”

“Sure thing. Suuuuure,” J.J says slyly, and goes back to watching TV, and Hanjae does too. Gulps, keeps looking at the movie, tries to pay attention.

Jiahang put on korean subtitles for him, yet he keeps talking – explaining everything. It’s a nice enough movie, he says. Good songs, nice enough movie.

They’re reaching the end of it, seeing every main character gather in a protest around town, when Haruki barges into their room.

“Are any of you not gonna rot inside this hotel?” He asks, loudly, quickly. “Is anyone going to do anything? Catch some sun?”

“Hanjae’s supposed to be going out,” Zhiming tells him. He’s also watching the movie now, has Jiahang by his side, explaining to him what he missed.

“Oh?” Haruki says, and looks around the room, eyes a little clouded, until they land on Hanjae. He smiles, and it stretches across his face quick and big, like he’s actually glad to see him, like the effect is instantaneous. Hanjae can’t for the life of him look at it head on. “Perfect. That’s just perfect, I’m going with you, Hanhan, just wait for me to get changed!”

“Okay,” Hanjae says, and hops off the bed too quickly, sits back down. “I– Waiting.”

Immediately after Haruki leaves Jiahang gives him a long look over Zhiming’s shoulder, and Hanjae pretends not to see it.

“You’re too easy,” he says, with a disapproving nod of his head, and Hanjae pretends he doesn’t hear it, pretends it doesn’t sting.

It’s humiliating, being reminded that people know – that they look at him and know, and he’s reminded of it constantly.

“Hanjae’s sad, sad bisexual awakening,” was how Jiahang put it, sing-a-song in the studio, while making this very single they’re promoting now. “Worse, worse than Minwoo’s– Is that a verse? Can we put that on a song, on the album?”

Minwoo said, for the two of them, “Fuck you.”

And there that one time, the one he remembers clearly, when Seo CEO said he wanted to sit down to watch them practicing ‘Love Me Right’ before the big release, and Taesong pushed Hanjae aside, told him, “Hanjae, you– if you need to check the choreo, please look at the instruction video. Don’t look at Haruki like that, there’s no need to look like you–”

There had to be a separation, he realized; he had to get it under control.

So Hanjae made friends with the people Haruki seemed to not stand, which sometimes meant everyone, but mostly meant J.J and Beomseok – two extremes of very opposite lines. He’s built a line of separation, wrapped himself up in Haruki repellent, and he tries to live by it.

It’s a frail line, a shitty line, and it comes crashing down all the time, with the little moments; single minutes where things feel kind between them, different. A bottle of water and a perfectly folded towel passed to him backstage, a group conversation where Haruki eventually says, like clockwork, “And you, Hanjae? What do you think?”; no one else says that. There’s this lingering nearness coming from him, like there's always something Haruki wants to say or do but can’t, something he wants to check.

It makes Hanjae wonder – makes him come back to that one friendly night, hang on to it. The way Haruki had been so near, his exact tone of voice when he said that he liked him, considered him a friend, thought he was handsome, was going to fix whatever was wrong.

[...]

“So what are we doing?” Haruki asks when they step onto the sidewalk.

“Just filming my Loop Log,” Hanjae responds. “Deadline’s tonight.”

“Shit, that,” Haruki groans, taking his cap off to push hair out of his eyes, putting it on again. “I forgot all about that. ‘Haven’t filmed mine either. ‘Think I lost my camera.”

“I can help you look,” Hanjae offers. “When we get home.”

“Well, thank you,” Haruki says, and steps closer, slides an arm over Hanjae’s shoulder, tells him, “For now, I guess we’ll just have to stick tight. LOOPiN 2on1, reunited in L.A…!”

At Hanjae’s timid request, Chihoon made him a list of what he should get to ‘live his best tourist life’, what the fans might want to see him try: pancakes, bacon and eggs, ice cream, anything in the menu that looks like it could have come off a cartoon, any ‘house specials’.

They go into the nearest place listed with the camera on hand, and have to explain with their Frankenstein English that they want to make a vlog, can they make a vlog? They can, a waiter says, but only in a specific area; they get taken there.

Hanjae orders the house special, and it's a crazy looking Banana Split. Haruki settles for waffles, and they decide to start filming when the food arrives.

Any chance of small talk between them goes fully stall when Hanjae asks, right at their waiter steps away, as the opening topic: “Have you talked to Haegon?”

Haruki’s dangling hand on the table stills. He smiles weird, notices it looks weird, drops it: “Ah, no. No…” and goes silent, makes Hanjae go silent too.

The food comes, they start filming. Hanjae’s meticulously trying to extract a tiny piece of strawberry from a block of ice cream, all while only looking through the camera’s lens, when Haruki’s phone jumps to life, ringing.

He takes it out of his pocket, places it screen flat on the table without looking at the receiver once, mutes it with one hand, adds a mountain of maple syrup to his food with the other.

“Not important,” Haruki reassures Hanjae when he catches him looking at the buzzing phone, an inch away from falling off the edge. He forks the food and stands his hand across the table, says, with his Idol voice, “Wanna try?”

It’s good sweet food, all of it. The camera goes back and forth between them, hand to hand. Haruki makes him pretend they’re shooting a commercial, at some point, makes him do a different pose with every bite, and Hanjae tries to not lose control of his face with all the wooing, all the praise.

It’s fanservice, and Haruki’s good at it. It makes for good content. Everything: good.

Outside, bill paid, they take shelter from the sun and check the recording; thirty raw minutes of footage.

“Hanjae,” Haruki says, looking up after skimming the video, solemn. Hanjae leans a bit forward, eyes a little wide.“The Log will turn out very boring if this is all we do.”

It is, indeed, not the best vlog Hanjae’s ever made. Not that he’s ever been any good at them, or at anything on the media side of the job outside of music covers or choreography making. He’s seen the views on his solo variety content, Sangwon walked him through them all last month, said: nothing special.

They barely talked in 30 minutes – Hanjae didn't initiate a single conversation with him.

Quickly, Haruki’s eyes narrow as he scans the area around them, and Hanjae tries to keep up. He looks for a long moment at the barracks of food, at a man selling balloons, and finally lands far ahead, on a group of kids running on the sand. The leading one trips on air and falls face first on the ground, immediately wails, and they let out matching startled, horrified laughs.

Haruki jogs until he’s in front of him, and turns to walk backwards, closer to where the sidewalk gives into the beach.

“You wanna do that?” He arches a perfect eyebrow. “Run around on the beach with me. Like we’re in a movie.”

Hanjae steps on a stone, lands his other feet on the ground wrong. “I– No.”

“No? Well, I’m doing it! It’s what the vlog’s missing! Trust me, if we do this, it’ll fix everything,” he says, and before Hanjae can even think of what to reply, turns around and starts running on the sand, straight ahead.

Haruki’s already bent over near the ocean when Hanjae catches up with him, folding his jeans until they stop at his knees, barefoot. He insists: “Let’s go, let’s do it, you’re already here, it’s going to be fun, the fans will like it, let’s do it, let’s do it!”

With a resigned sigh, Hanjae unties his sneakers.

Haruki approaches a family nearby and asks for a beach chair, gets a yes. They place the camera cautiously on it, set it with a big zoom ahead. Haruki leaves his phone there, too, with a careless toss, and Hanjae can hear it announcing another call as he steps away, trailing exactly behind him – footprint over footprint, back near the ocean and then on the ocean.

“I thought– Hyung, I thought we were going to just walk,” Hanjae says, stopping. The salt water is a chill foam around his foot.

“Yeah,” Haruki flashes him a smile over his shoulder. He’s about to be knees deep, is taking his Hawaiian shirt off, Hanjae realizes now, with a flush. “We’re walking. Into the water.”

Hanjae catches the shirt when he throws it over his shoulder, looks at it, up at him. He takes a step closer. “Manager Choi’s– Haruki, he’s going to complain!”

“Fuck him!” Haruki tells him with a laugh. He says, with meaning: “Fuck him, fuck New Wave, let them complain, I’m going for a dive and no one can stop me!”

And then he dives, swims, disappears under the water for a long moment. Hanjae stays planted where he is, at a loss of words. When Haruki reemerges, pushing a curtain off black hair off his eyes, and walks back splashing water at him. By the time they’re side by side again, it looks like Hanjae took a dive, too.

“Are you…” He starts to say, eyeing Haruki worryingly, but then the family from before calls back to them, says they’re leaving, they need the chair back, and Haruki claps him on the shoulder, smiles widely, races him to reach them.

“Look,” Haruki says when they’re checking the footage, back on the sidewalk, showing Hanjae a clip: the two of them, a little blurry, walking. “We even got your good smile.”

“My good smile?” Hanjae echoes.

“Not to imply you have a bad one, because you don’t have a bad one,” Haruki says, and bumps their shoulders together. He has just put his shirt back on, is wearing it unbuttoned. “You just have one that’s relaxed, easy. A rare one.”

“Hm,” Hanjae responds, looking away, rolling a rock under his feet.

The walk back to the hotel is calm, windy. The sky’s cotton candy pink and it all looks like a movie, Hanjae thinks. He looks down, and their hands are loose, hanging close, like it would be in a movie.

The end credits roll when they get in the hotel’s lobby, and find Sangwon there – just right there. He catches sight of them immediately, like an alert dog; a quick jump off his seat, a stall near.

He seems to consider them like an equation, frowning: he takes in their wet hair, the wet clothes, the leftover traces of sand, solves it, fumes.

“Do you have any idea,” he says, and he’s struggling to look at the two of them, to not just gawk at Haruki – to not bare his teeth to Haruki only. “Any idea, you two, of how irresponsible this whole stunt was? You’re out on a foreign land. You know no one – no one. When I– The company, if the company calls, you pick your phone. It’s how it works. Pick your phone, immediately.”

Hanjae checks his own phone, a quick glance: no calls.

“Choi-nim,” he says, not looking directly at him, because he lost the ability over the years. Sangwon’s gaze now makes him incredibly anxious. He takes the camera out of where its hanging around his neck, stands it. “I notified– On the calendar, I added– We were just filming–”

“No need to explain, Hanjae,” Haruki interrupts, and puts a hand on Hanjae’s shoulder, steps in front of him, puts himself between him and Sangwon. “Go up. You did nothing wrong. It’s okay. Hyung’s going to solve this with the manager.” He turns straight to Choi-nim and bows, so pristine, so polite: “I take full responsibility for today. It was all me. I’m really sorry if I caused you stress.”

Sangwon considers him for a long moment, taking in the bend of his elbows, like he’s trying to measure his sincerity – there’s almost none of it, Hanjae can tell. He sighs, and then he adjusts his shirt, picks at the cufflinks of his uniform, breaths – his nostrils taking over his entire face.

“You’re dismissed,” Sangwon tells Hanjae, icely, with a corner of the eye glance.

“Sir, I–”

“Dismissed.”

“Go on,” Haruki encourages him, giving Hanjae’s shoulder a firm tap. And then he runs a hand over Hanjae’s hair, messes it up until his wet bangs are glued to his forehead, which he’s never done before; not with him, not with anyone, as far as Hanjae’s aware.

Hesitantly, Hanjae steps away, goes to take the elevator. He keeps looking at them over his shoulder, watching them trail away with growing uneasiness. Haruki keeps looking back at him until he can’t: Sangwon gets the door of the hotel open, shoves him by the shoulder out.

Up in his hotel room, Hanjae showers for a long time. There’s sand on a spot on his elbow where Haruki gave him a tap, and it takes him a while to notice.

He comes off the shower and goes straight to laying down. Zhiming, who had been awake when he came in, is also in his bed now, fully still.

He turns over once, and then again, goes back on his side. “Zhiming hyung?” Hanjae whispers. “You’re awake?”

When Zhiming finally responds, it’s with a minimal grunt, a tiny quick of his socked foot. “What.”

“Do you,” Hanjae chews on the words, “Do you think I have a good smile?”

A pause, a loud sigh. “You’re an Idol. You should hope so.”

“Okay. Okay, so what about– What about me do you think, what looks bad?”

Slowly, very slowly, Zhiming raises his upper body on his elbows. His air is a mess, recently dyed from gray to black too quickly. Without his glasses, he’s forced to squint at Hanjae, even this close, with their beds separated by a very narrow space.

“What the fuck are you even talking about?”

Hanjae takes in a sharp breath, and nods – puts a hand over his eyes, nods again. Stupid, so stupid.

“Nothing,” He says. “Nothing, just– Forget it. I’m sorry, just– Sorry.”

Zhiming goes back to laying down with a loud ‘oof’. He says, a crude whisper, “Don’t go out alone with him if it’ll make you come back like that.”

And with that Hanjae decides he must sleep, immediately, and end this day already.

It was just a day, he tells himself, rubbing at the scarred spot on his hand; a flower in eternal bloom, once. Just one good day. Drop it, forget it, erase it.

February 15, 2022.

“C’mon, you guys, c’moooon! On a scale of one to ten–”

“Na Seungsoo,” Minwoo’s voice rings out like a warning; an elastic pulled far above its limit, about to snap back into place, hard. “Shut your goddamn mouth.”

“She’s right there,” Haegon adds, equally as ultraged. “Are you dumb? Do you want to die?”

“Light up, you two. We’re just talking hypotheticals. I’m not actually gonna fuck our mananger,” Seungsoo says, crossing his arms, raising his chin high – his posture the embodiment of a practical joke about to take action. “That would be desperate and unprofessional, and I am none of these things.”

“You’re extremely unprofessional,” Jiahang laughs at him, a little mean – all his laughs have something a little mean about them, Hanjae can’t help but notice, when Seungsoo’s involved. “And extremely desperate. You just fucked our sound assistant. We no longer have a sound assistant, because you fucked her.”

“So did Jimin!”

“A fluke,” Zhiming defends himself. “Not happening again.”

“It’s never a fluke with you, Seungsoo. You’re such a man whore. A man whore for staff. Even Sangwon could have pulled you when he was around if he had a pair of tits,” Haegon notes, and Seungsoo gasps, mutters, scandalized, ‘You bastard!’, raises a fist up as if he’s going to hit him, and everyone’s laughing. Hanjae contributes with a grimace. “You’re that gross, you’re really that disgusting, all it would take–”

Behind them, Dylan begins to violently choke on a bite out of his granola bar, hard enough for the whole photo studio to freeze.

Taesong stands up immediately to check on him, and so does Jungwha, their three day old manager, Choi Sangwon’s definitive substitute and the topic of Seungsoo’s most recent infatuation: she rushes forward to aid alongside an assistant, a cup of water materialized out of thin air on her hand, like a trained lifeguard.

It’s too early for any of them to get a good read on her, but Hanjae has working eyes, so he will admit Junghwa is good looking in a mature sort of way, a bit above the ‘K-Pop staff adequate’. She’s not far from Seungsoo’s type, given the fact that he pretty much doesn’t have one. Hanjae has seen him flirt with Seo CEO’s third ex-wife, the second ex-wife, all of Minwoo’s half sisters and, in a disastrous attempt, Dylan’s mom. ("She's just so young, Chihoon! I thought she was your cousin!"

"I don't have a single cousin and you know that! You went for my mom, you animal, the least you can do is own it!")

“Holy shit, Chihoon,” Seungsoo says, tapping him on the back with one hand, fanning him with the other. “You’re alright?”

“My bad– False alarm, guys, my bad–!”, Dylan mutters, still coughing, watery eyes quick in their attempt to scan the room for something, someone.

Hanjae follows their frantic trail until they land on the quiet figure of Haruki by the coffee machine, his back to them, shoulders rigid and on display – wearing the same suit outfit Hanjae has been put on, his in a shade more close to purple than blue.

It fits Haruki splendidly, as must things do.

“Alright, boys, hey, boys!” Jungwha calls out when Dylan’s lungs go back to normal, clapping her hands one loud time. “Break’s over! It’s the real deal, now! So let’s try to have a good day at work today! Fighting!”

They’re set to scatter in trios and duos, the old unit formations, except for Haegon, who’s still on hiatus, still has stitches all over the crown of his head. He only made it because Haruki insisted, and he’s always insisting, lately: “How can we do well without our cheerleader,” he told Haegon in the morning, “Our cute, adorable cheerleader, my very favorite little brother–!”

“Hi,” Hanjae mutters, tapping Haruki gently in the shoulder. Haruki jumps, catching his breath, and Hanjae drops his hand, shoves it behind his own back. “Ah, sorry, if I– I was just going to say we should–”

But Haruki is turning and splinting in front of him before all the words are out, growing out of earshot, out of hold, entering a hallway on the left.

Hanjae, embarrassed, follows.

They’re supposed to go to room 4, but Haruki walks right past it. Hanjae calls back to him from the door, says, “Hyung, that’s not the–”, and then his voice falters, dies out.

Haruki’s already quick pace has grown even quicker, and he’s now running towards the door at the end of the corridor, the one with a red sign written ‘TERRACE’ over it – really running, to the point his body almost slams against the metal when he stops. The door handle makes a loud noise as he tries to push it open, can’t make it, tries again, harder – manages to step out with a strong shove. Hanjae goes after him, frowning, worried.

Outside, the terrace is a gray space, almost the same tone as the sky – rain’s a strong promise on the horizon, a reasonable fear.

Haruki’s standing right at the center. He tries to take in a big and loud gulp of air, can’t, makes a choking sound, lets out a hiss. Hanjae can feel the acute panic coming off him like electricity, gluing itself to his very own skin. He reminds himself to breathe.

Haruki stands an arm out and that’s the distance between them, that’s the nearest he’ll let Hanjae get.

“What’s– What’s happening, what’s wrong, what–?”

“Just,” he’s trembling bad. “Leave, I need– Leave.”

“Now?” Hanjae asks, and he’s making himself bite down on the trail of: ‘But the shoot’, ‘But the gig’, ‘But the job’ so hard, he’s actually got his teeth sinking on his lip.

Haruki nods, sharp and final, and Hanjae feels himself nodding back, frenetic. “Okay, stay– stay here, okay, you’ll leave– we’re leaving, just stay here.”

Hanjae walks back into the building with his head very low, tries to not walk too quickly to bring attention to himself, feels like he’s falling; feels like the whole world is looking at him. He holds his breath while sneaking back into the room they’re using as a closet, picks his and Haruki’s things like a thief: pushing everything into their bags without folding, eyes anxiously looking behind his back, flinching at every outside noise coming through the door.

Haruki’s phone is the last thing he grabs. He only becomes aware of it because it starts ringing. He looks at the screen, a quick run of his eyes. The contact name reads: ‘Don’t Answer Don’t Answer Don’t Answer.’

On the roof, Haruki’s sitting on the floor, resting his forehead against the wall. The back half of an air conditioner hangs close to him, and the leftover water pools near his feet, turning the hem of his pants dark.

They put on the yellow raincoats, plastic hood all the way up, and make a clumsy escape out the studio; Hanjae babbles something at the receptionist about there being equipment in the van, and the woman gives them a distracted ‘go ahead’ nod, an empty courtesy smile.

They walk without a plan, enter on the first bus that stops close: Haruki on the lead, completely reticent, Hanjae only following. There’s still a trail of glitter going down his neck, shiny with sweat, red from stress, Hanjae notices when they sit down. He’s still crying, still whipping at his runny nose with the expensive fabric of his shirt.

Hanjae looks down at his own clothes, the suit vest with no shirt under, a design piece New Wave doesn’t own – he’s wearing eyeliner, a strong smokey eye. They look expensive, and to an outsider, probably peculiar, weird. They don’t even have masks on…

Maybe, Hanjae hopes, trying to hold on to any trail of optimism possible, they could pass as very dedicated cover dancers, maybe–

The sound of Hanjae’s phone ringing makes them both jump in their seats. Haruki comes out of his state of anxious inertia to put a hand on his knee, pressing on it to get his attention. He says, through his teeth, “Do not– Hanjae, do not.”

Hanjae lets the phone ring out. He looks at the receiver: Uhm Junghwa (Manager).

Haruki’s peeking at it too. “Off,” he says, and it’s off.

It’s raining when they step out of the bus. They get maybe five feet down the sidewalk when a phone rings again – this time, Haruki’s. He comes to a sudden halt, and Hanjae bumps into his back and gets a close view of how, in an act of blind rage, he throws it hard on the floor.

“Fuck!” Haruki says, and steps on it once, twice, cracks the screen then the whole device in half. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Hanjae looks at him, wide eyed, mouth hanging open, and watches him pace around, a tense moment, until he loses all steam, goes sit by the closest wall.

Haruki stays for a long time there, one hand gripping the fence, the other pressing over his face, being rained on. Cautiously, Hanjae slides his raincoat off, squats down, close to him, and stands it over both their heads. Rain drips directly into his shoulder, makes a cold path down his neck.

“I hope your–,” a hiccup, a sniff, a faint and unconvincing attempt from Haruki of laughing them both off, “your fantasy’s still– still up.”

“My…?”

“Can you not,” Haruki says, a hiss, “Not look.”

Hanjae complies, doesn’t look. Behind them, a car runs close to the sidewalk, splashes a wave of rainwater on their backs.

“Sasaeng?” Hanjae tries, “Is it a sasaeng, or…”

Haruki lets out a bitter snort. “Imja,” he says, and it makes more sense that he means ‘owner’ rather than ‘marriage partner’; Hanjae can’t hear anything else, can’t connect anything else to something he knows and decode it.

His throat has gone dry, sandy. He clears it, and still, his voice comes off clipped. “Your…? Ah. Ah, I didn’t know– Didn’t know you have someone you were–”

“You know him,” Haruki says. “For years. You– you’ve known him. He gave you your job– Made your job happen.”

It takes a long moment for it to click, for the shape of manager Choi to come to Hanjae’s mind. Haruki’s looking at him like he’s expecting Hanjae to do something horrible: mouth set for a fight, eyes so red they look like they’ve been painted over.

“Hyung,” Hanjae breathes. His voice is an even quieter thing, afraid. “Do you mean– Are you being serious?”

“Am I! Am I serious?!”

He’s up again, quick – Hanjae loses his equilibrium and falls back on the street. Haruki doesn’t wait for him to get up to resume stomping.

It takes two street turns for Hanjae to understand they’re detouring from the dorms.

They sit on another bus stop bench, hop on another bus. A quiet and tense drive, this one. Haruki’s no longer crying, just grinding his teeth.

They go to the front gates of a tiny building, their final destination, and Haruki tells the security guard an apartment number, wais to be buzzed in. He does soon, and Hanjae, yet to be told to leave, goes up with him on the stairs.

Delilah gets the door he bangs on, and Hanjae’s stuck blinking at the sight of her, who shouldn’t still be in Korea. Haruki barges into her place like a hurricane: shoes still on, pushing her a little back, closer to the wall.

They both stare at the spot he occupied on the corridor a second ago, a held breath.

She recovers much quicker than he does. Deh tucks a long lock of her caramel hair behind her ear, greets him with an awkward, “Hanjae, hi. Hi...”, and Hanjae gets overwhelmed by too many things at once; how glad he is to see her, the shame of how they had parted. Her sad face when she told everyone she couldn’t stand to work with them anymore.

“You’re back.”

“I am! I am back!” Deh says. “How could I not! Europe’s too gray for me. The food’s too bad, and...” She sucks air through her teeth, takes an anxious look behind her, back inside. “... And all that.”

Hanjae shakes his head, agrees – agrees to all that even though he has no idea what all that is. There’s a pool of spit on his mouth, and he has to concentrate on gulping it down, has to try more than once.

“Hanjae, baby, look– I’ll send him on his way later. Maybe tonight. Or tomorrow morning. Just…” She trials off. “Please don’t tell the others we met, okay? I don’t want Seungsoo looking for me or asking around. I don’t want to see him again, ever.”

Fair, Hanjae thinks. After everything, fair.

Deh flashes him a final grim before closing the door, still awkward, and it doesn’t last. She drops it for a split second, fully drops it, looks instead concerned, anxious.

Hanjae waits a moment, then moves before he knows it. He presses his ear against the shut door, closes his eyes and hopes to catch anything. A creek of wood. A vacuum cleaner being turned off. The sound of someone channel surfing. Deh saying what might be, “Haruki, what do you want me to do? I can’t know, love. I can’t know if you don’t tell me.”

Another sound drowns everything, nearer. Someone from the apartment on the left starts to unlock their door, it’s about to walk out, and it leaves Hanjae panicking, it makes him jog all the way out of the building, nonstop.

He makes the inverse way back home, alone. His own phone is a hot thing in his back pocket. When he gets to the dorm, Chihoon is the first person he bumps into, planted right beside the shoe rack. Hanjae’s seen him in this set of clothes, short shorts and a knockoff Pokemon shirt, more than he’s seen his own dad’s face these last few years.

Dylan grabs at Hanjae when he notices it’s him, pushes him back out quickly. He puts a finger in front of his mouth – quiet.

“I’ve given you some cover,” he whispers. They’re circling the house, Hanjae realizes, going to the backyard. “Said you were not feeling well. It won’t fly with Minwoo or Taesong, so think of something. And you're not gonna get paid this month, because of the clothes. Neither of you will.” He looks around, eyes sharp in a way Hanjae didn’t think they could be. “Where is he?”

“Deh’s,” Hanjae blurts out, and remembers he promised not to speak of her, grows meek.

He’s tired, deep in the bones tired, from all the walking, all the running. The socks inside his sneakers are still wet, his fingers have gone cold.

“Good,” Dylan says, remarkably unsurprised. “That’s good enough.”

There’s a moment of silence between them. In Hanjae’s head, a pinned image every time he blinks: Haruki’s eyes, red like a bruise.

“Chihoon hyung, I think– I think there’s something wrong with–”

Dylan’s grip on his arm is steady, but no longer comforting when he says, “Hanjae, listen, yes. Yes. Something’s wrong. Too many things–” He shakes his head, clicks his tongue once, and again. “No need for you to worry about it, because there’s nothing you can really do, okay? It’s been too long, now. The time for anyone to really do anything, over.”

He looks like he doesn’t want to be saying it, like all those words taste bitter, bad.

“So just keep being nice,” Dylan concludes, and his voice breaks at the end. “Be nice with him right now, alright? And patient, and normal, just like always, and…”

Dylan doesn’t say what else. He looks down, and Hanjae follows. Near their feet, a trail of black nicotine ash and tiny bits of paper; someone’s worry, someone’s wait.Kind, maybe, Hanjae concludes on his own. Maybe kind was what he was going to say.

March 12th & a Bit Of 13th, 2022.

Sunyoung immediately strikes Hanjae as someone who’s never held a small house party before, and it’s a bit painful to see her try.

She greets them at the door, a little overdressed: Chanel earrings, Chanel bag. “Is that everyone?”, she asks, craning her neck to peek behind them, and when they mumble ‘yes’ she visibly withers.

Taesong steps in front of them to give her a gift – a flower vase so yellow Zhiming had to look away from it, rubbing at his eyes.

She stares at it for a minute, frowns hard, then composes herself, says, “Ah! Thank you so much, oppa! This is so– Yeah, thanks! But you didn’t have to! Gon, baby! I said they didn’t have to!”

“I told you they don’t listen to me,” Haegon mutters. There’s a dark cloud over his face and Sunyoung seems to not mind it. She squeezes his arm when he passes her by, smiles at him prettily.

She checks the corridor one more time, and for a moment Hanjae thinks she looks sad; that she looks angry.

The party is a housewarming party for the brand new double storey apartment in Nine One Hannam she’s sharing with her BombShell leader Yoorim, who strongly opposed herself to throwing anything. Hanjae catches a glimpse of her looking displeased and bothered behind the kitchen aisle, and bows his head a little – she rolls her eyes, turns her back on him, disappears behind a small group of people.

Beomseok refused to come, decided to take the afternoon to go grocery shopping, the night to visit family he can’t take Haegon to see; the side that calls him a parasite. It had been a clear jab, right at Haegon’s face. Even Minwoo thought it was insensitive, and his response to the invite had been nothing but a disgusted face that spelled out ‘no’.

Hanjae watches him move through the living room, greeting some people. Haegon’s been here yesterday, and the day before that, and if Hanjae’s not cautious, he’ll stay over despite their early shooting tomorrow.

“That old man put you on babysitting duty, eh, Hanhan?” Seungsoo leans in to whisper to him, somehow with a drink in hand – white wine. The smell of his cologne is already stuck to the collar of Hanjae’s bottom up by osmosis.

“He’s just concerned. It makes sense to be concerned.”

On their first day back from L.A, Haegon had announced over dinner that he now had a girlfriend: they met last week, and had been dating for three days. The situation had driven Beomseok crazy. Haegon asked if him if wanted to meet her every day for two weeks straight, and he said: no. He eventually got around to meet her and said with even more conviction: no, break up, now.

It’s an age gap, even if very small, but she’s about five years his industry senior, he told Hanjae. And Sunyoung’s from YG Entertainment, the face of too many brands. She’s going to eat him alive, spit him out, leave him heartbroken and Beomseok is going to have to deal with it, and he doesn’t want to have to deal with it.

“She can just like him. People can just like him,” Taesong tried to intervene, high pitched, and Beomseok cutted him off right away, said, “No. No, there’s something– Be serious, Taesong. No.”

The front door dings again, and it takes a long minute for Haegon to untangle his arms from Sunyoung’s waist and let her go get it. Hanjae watches her walk across the house, a firm walk of a supermodel, of someone important, and gets embarrassed with how bad he is at this, how obvious.

Another glimpse her way, and the person with their two feet planted on the ‘welcome home’ carpet is Haruki. He also said he wouldn’t come but gave no excuse, yet: here, dressed nicely. He’s got the same convenience store from years ago under one arm, the one from a memory.

They talk, talk, talk, and he still won’t leave the entrance. Haruki makes her laugh, the most genuine thing Hanjae’s seen Sunyoung do all night. He sees her look at him, look around, then lean closer again: point upstairs and give Haruki a thumbs up as he finally makes his way in, into the stairs and out of sight.

Sunyoung’s back on the couch, to Haegon, and Hanjae makes himself look. They’re fine, they appear very fine, holding hands, he doesn’t have to watch them all night, there’s no need to watch them at all, and–

Hanjae goes up the stairs, which he knows it’s technically off limits. He tries to not let his eyes wander to the photos on the walls, the books on the shelves tucked next to an award behind protective glass, a big shiny plaque framed above it.

There’s only one door with light peeking through, right at the end of the corridor. He taps at it three times, and waits. Another three taps, slightly stronger.

“Occupied,” a voice says from the inside – a tone he knows. “All night.”

Hanjae can’t think of what to say: can’t think of anything at all, for a second. He gives the door another hopeful tap, waits more, and he lets out a sigh of relief when it creeks open. He goes in, closes it quietly behind him, and looks down.

The room’s a bathroom, straight out of a home decoration magazine, all black and white. Haruki seems to be setting up an improv bar on the floor, in the big space between the bathtub and the sink. There’s a bottle of something Hanjae can’t read, blue and half empty, tucked in between his legs like a treasure.

“Ah, you,” he waves at Hanjae’s vague direction, not looking up. “Hello, you. I’m just– Don’t mind the mess. Someone made me something once. ‘Trying to put it together.”

Hanjae hums. He can’t make his hand ease its grip on the doorknob.

It’s been weeks since they abandoned the shoot, and since then Haruki’s been avoiding him constantly. Looks at him from across rooms and seems pained, constantly, and Hanjae hasn’t had the heart to come near.

“What is happening?” Haruki asks, suddenly, and tries to land a smile. He blinks a lot and then not enough looking up at Hanjae. “Down. Down there.”

“Nothing much.”

“How is he?”

“Haegon?” Hanjae asks, and Haruki nods at him loosely, mouths the name without making a sound: ‘Haegon’. “He– Uh, he seems alright.”

“Great couple, yes or no? For our maknae, is she great?”

“I– I don’t know.”

Disappointment flashes vividly through Haruki’s face, and it lands on a sad shagrin. “You don’t know,” he says, to himself, and goes back to emptying his bag with a slouch to his shoulders.

‘Be normal’, Dylan had said that day, his only instructions: ‘Be nice.’

Hanjae lets go of the door and goes to sit in front of him, legs crossed like his are. “What’s it supposed to taste like? The drink.”

There’s no humor in Haruki when he says, “Acid.”

He offers a thermo bottle to Hanjae filled with the failed replica. Hanjae takes a tiny sip and can’t swallow it, feels like his tongue is on fire, and it makes Haruki huff a laugh. “More disgusting than that.”

He makes more combinations that demand more tasting, and Hanjae at times struggles, at times doesn’t – Haruki empties a Soju bottle and refills it with Somaek, calls it ‘Hanjae’s palette cleanser’. He also makes Hanjae go downstairs to grab things they don’t have: more cups, ice and fruit juice, if Sunyoung has any, which she does – too many options.

Hanjae comes back from the trip and sets all his findings at Haruki’s feet, then feels weird about it, exposed about it, and pushes some of it closer to himself.

The bottle opener, they notice a minute later, has disappeared. Hanjae thinks he took it with him to the kitchen and abandoned it on the counter. Worry not, Haruki says; worry not!, because he knows how to open them with his front teeth. It’s a hidden skill, a secret talent.

Haruki asks him to hold a bottle close to his face so he can prove it, and Hanjae does so, but it’s a frail grip, not good. Haruki puts a hand over his to make it steadier, makes it worse. Another hand, a shove closer until their knees are touching. Hanjae adds his free hand into the pile, the lonely hand, and Haruki looks straight at him – looks like he’s saying, ‘Bet?’

It takes a second, really. A pop and the lid comes off in the company of an enormous foam eruption. Haruki gets both his hands away, does a smiley flourish: ‘ta-da!’

“But you shook it! Too much, you–!’ He laughs, and can’t stop laughing. Hanjae’s still holding the bottle and tries to hand it to him, but Haruki shakes his head ‘no’. “For you. It is for you.”

It’s bland beer, he takes notice when he drinks it, but somehow it tastes sweeter.

From the corner of his eyes he catches a glimpse of metal in a corner, and it’s Haruki’s new phone, exiled.

Hanjae is surprised to hear himself ask him, “Are the calls– the calls still coming? The ones from–”

“Always,” Haruki responds, eerily nonchalant. “Always will.”

“It’s not over, then? You still–”

“It is. It is over. It is over the way it can be over.”

“What wouldhe,” Hanjae closes his eyes, reiterates, “If it’s over, what would he still want with you?”

“What do you think,” Haruki asks, staring fixedly at the alcohol going from one bottle to the other. A bit of it it’s running straight to the floor. “What do you think people want with me?”

It’s said– weird. Something in his uncaring tone makes a lump of sadness form in Hanjae’s throat.

“Hyung, you know that, if you everneed to talk to anyone about anything. Me and the guys, we all– We all listen. We would listen.”

“Anything?” Haruki pretends to be impressed. “Big. That is big.”

“Seriously. I’m being serious.”

Haruki looks up at him. Even more alcohol spills to the floor.

“Okay. Okay, anything. Anything…” he hums, dropping the bottles, mimicking being in thought with an obnoxious pout. His mouth is now a purple dot, and his eyes a shiny brown daze...

Hanjae often catches himself wondering if he just knows. If he looks into a mirror and just knows that he’s beautiful in a way that looks hand drawn, that looks meticulously planned: a subject of equal envy and admiration. If Sangwon ever told him that, and if so, how many times, had it come close to enough, had he used the right words to say it, did Haruki believe him when he said it, or if he didn’t – what did it make him feel? What exactly did he make him feel?

Hanjae always thought he was so mean, so bitter. He can’t remember ever hearing him say anything nice to anyone about anything.

Hanjae’s staring, he’s realized, and his eyes hurt. He makes them look down to where Haruki’s got a firm hold around the slim of a bottleneck, tapping a weird rhythm into it, impossible to decipher. He has long fingers with hard skin on them, which isn’t something you would expect. He used to paint, used to do calligraphy; used to go to a prestigious arts academy during high school, all boys.

Hanjae’s still starring, and he’s too close to drunk to properly command himself to stop. He hears Haruki huffs an unheard laugh, suddenly, short and maybe frustrated, maybe not that, and Hanjae’s head snaps up to his face to meet it.

He’s being stared at, too – is being analyzed, too.

“I thought of something. Something I want to say, a thing,” Haruki announces. The grin on his face suddenly looks very, very sharp, like there’s something tugging the corners of his mouth up. “I will whisper to you. On your ear. ‘Gimme your ear and I will tell.”

And with that he comes forward, a sudden and ungracious movement, and doesn’t stop when they’re front to front, an inch apart. He climbs Hanjae up – actually climbs him up, his legs around the middle of his body, cageing him in.

Haruki grims again and it’s lazily, in slow motion. He puts a hand on Hanjae’s chin, tips it high, says, “Not your ear.”

He turns his head to the side. His nose rovers near Hanjae’s head, and Hanjae tries to escape it in reflex, but they’re all too slow, drowned in alcohol.

Into his ear, lips touching skin, Haruki says, “I know you like me. For a very long time. Since that one time. Ever since we went out, we got drunk, that one time.”

“Sorry,” Hanjae mutters, hushed.

“‘Sorry’,” Haruki laughs again, like that’s the funniest word there is, like it’s the meanest. It rings so loud, it has an echo. “Now you sorry?”

Hanjae sinks more into the floor, almost laying down, and Haruki follows, saying, “Are you going away? This close? I am this close, and you going away?”

They’re kissing before Hanjae fully processes how, and it’s a weird kiss at a weird angle; Haruki won’t bend his body all the way down, and Hanjae has to keep craning his neck to meet him midway, his elbows pressing against the tiles, hurting.

He feels a hand slide up his shirt almost immediately, and Hanjae understands, with drunken horror, that he’s being undressed – quickly.

“Ah, wait–” He says, and then can’t get out anything else: Haruki shoved a thumb inside his mouth, in between his teeth, as he goes for the spot where Hanjae’s shoulder and neck meet.

“You smell like home here,” he says, a goosebump. He buries his face there, opens his mouth above it, bites and sucks hard enough to make Hanjae jump – for him to know it’ll leave a pinkish mark, evidence–

It’s exactly then and there that someone bursts in through the door, says a curse loudly, startles the two of them slightly apart, knocks the air out of their lungs.

“Close your eyes! I need to pee right now, right now, close your eyes!”

It’s a tall woman, this one – Hanjae sees her quick rush to the toilet and closes his eyes tight shut.

“If any of you try to act funny and take a single peek, I’ll fucking castrate you both– Hey! Hey, you, back on the floor, don’t come near, I’m fucking serious, I’ll kill you, you fucking–!”

The door clicks shut, and it takes Hanjae a moment to take in the lack of heat above and around him, to correlate the two: Haruki’s gone, walked out, left him.

From the side, he hears an instrident, “Can you at least cover your fucking boner, dude?!”

Hanjae rolls to his side, facing the opposite wall to where the toilet is; he pushes his knuckles into his shut eyes, for good measure. He waits for the girl to finish peeing, and tries not to have an anxiety attack or a heart attack or a nerve attack about everything that happened in the last ten minutes: Haruki on top of him, Haruki no longer on top of him, having to hear a stranger peeing.

“I’m done,” she announces, and he turns back to the same position as before.

There’s little dots of light in his vision, dancing. The girl’s using the sink now, and she has a blonde bob, so blonde and so short. It follows the shape of her mouth and up, even shorter at the back.

“Not a word from you, ever,” she warns, drying her hands on her skirt, pushing it down more, back in place. She gives him a pointed glare that makes Hanjae look down at the state he’s in, at his busted open shirt, a single button in the middle holding it all together. “Not a word from me. Now get the fuck out, please. People need to use the bathroom.”

And she gets going too, without closing the door all the way. The hum of the party downstairs carries over.

Hanjae inhales, looking at the bright ceiling light. His fingers have gone pruney where they were holding him.

[…]

Eventually Hanjae has to get out of the suite, and do a walk of shame back to the housewarming party. He takes down with him all the glass and cups he can manage, not a lot of them, goes straight to the kitchen sink, and begins to wash them, it’s done with them, goes for all of Sunyoung and Yoorim’s dishes.

Around him, the kitchen has emptied out – on the front the living room, mostly emptied out, too, except for little clicks. He spots J.J right in the center of the one installed in the couch, gesticulating enthusiastically, telling someone some story until they make eye contact. He stops, excuses himself, rushes near.

Up close, Jiahang looks at him, up and down, bug eyed, and Hanjae understands he didn’t do a good job of piecing himself back together.

He got a glimpse of his face in the mirror before walking out: lips glossy, bangs far apart and sticking up, somehow, not all the buttons of his shirt tucked in the right cases.

“Hanjae, oh my God. Dylan, Dylan, look!” He calls out, and Hanjae sees Chihoon appear on his left, face slightly dazed. “Oh my God, Dylan! Hanjae!”

“You fucking animal!” Seungsoo, coming out of nowhere, slaps him on the chest hard. “Who? Who who who who?”

They’re all too close, too soon, and Hanjae can’t look anyone in the eyes for too long– he just can’t.

He catches a glimpse of Blonde Bob Piss Girl in a corner, looking bored, on her phone, and stares at her for a moment too long. Everyone follows, looks at her too, and his bandmates erupt into enthusiastic ‘Eeeeeeh!’s. Someone, proprably Seungsoo still, raises his soupy arm up so he can be given high fives, and Hanjae doesn’t know what to do – to let the lie linger or to kill it. What can he even say? What can he say if not that–

Hanjae finds himself grabbing Dylan’s sleeve and tugging at it, leaving behind a damp. He feels like a little kid that broke something, suddenly – overwhelmingly so. “Where ‘d Haruki go?”

“Dude, I didn’t see him. You sure?” Chihoon asks, and Hanjae’s not; he’s not sure.

“Whaaaaat? Haruki came? Haruki’s here?”

“Great. Another one to hunt down. We’re never gonna leave this fucking place in time,” Jiahang whines. “Yoorim noona’s going to delete my number.”

Hanjae asks all of them at once, “We’re leaving?”

“Yeah, you didn’t hear? Sunyoung and Haegon ditched,” Seungsoo says, and Hanjae’s stomach drops. “It’s her house and they ditched, disappeared, poof! Yoorim’s pissed, told everyone to leave. And Taeng’s freaking out! Someone broke his little vase, someone spilled something on him. I think he’s gonna snap. We need to get that freak home.”

“Shit.”

“Yes, Hanjae,” Seungsoo laughs. “Old man was right, after all… Shit.”

[...]

They do a small search around the apartment, the balcony, and conclude: no Haruki anywhere, so they group everyone they have to leave, go wait to be picked up on the sidewalk in front of the Nine One Hannam gates.

“You just dreamed him up, Hanhan! Wouldn’t be the first time,” Seungsoo jokes. It’s a bad joke. O.z shoves him in the chest hard about it, tells him, “Quiet.”

Hanjae looks straight ahead, not at them. In front of him J.J keeps bouncing on the wheel of his feet, saying, ‘I’m going in the front, I’m passenger seat, forget it, it’s me me me me,’ even though no one’s putting up a fight about it.

Minwoo pulls up soon enough on the curve in one of the two black company vans, and downs the window just to give them all an open scowl, then a frown. “I’m only seeing seven of you.”

J.J circles the car to get to the front door, struggles a little to get it open. “Hyung, you’re not gonna believe.”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Jiahang.”

“Shut up, you do. You really really really really do. You were–,” and then he becomes aware of the slouched figure of Hanjae trailing behind him, turns and frowns. “What did I just say!”

“No, I’m…” Hanjae looks at Minwoo looking at him, one eyebrow raised, says, “Sorry.”

Minwoo pinches at his nose, hard. “Just get in the goddamn car, Hanjae, Jesus Christ.”

Hanjae thinks, out of everyone who has a driver’s license, Minwoo drives the shittiest. He needs glasses, he never wears them, he grumbles curses at every slow driver and every rush driver and every driver, in general.

On the way home, he stops the van only once, by popular demand. Taesong steps out to vomit, and spends the rest of the ride jittery about it, cracking his knuckles even when they make no sound.

“We’re so fucked,” Chihoon says when they park inside the dorm’s garage, rubbing his eyes. “It’s 3AM. We’re so fucked.”

While everyone rushes to their rooms to piece pajamas together and form a long row to shower, Hanjae’s elbow to elbow with Dylan, going up the stairs to the second floor as quietly as they can.

He and Haruki have, by far, the best room in the whole house: spacious, with a nice window. It used to be Haruki and Sangwon’s up until he got fired – some excuse about rooming with the manager to learn Korean quicker, about making sure Haruki wouldn’t sneak beer into his room. It makes Hanjae sick now, seeing it, standing so close to it.

Dylan tries the handle once, and the door doesn’t budge, only makes a stubborn click – locked.

Hanjae dries his hand on his jeans, still wet, somehow, asks him, “Is he– He’s in there? Or…?”

Chihoon rests his head against the mahogany and sort of sighs, sort of laughs. “Yeah, definitely home. He’s the only one with the key to lock me out. Classic. Just classic.”

“Get my bed,” Hanjae says – implores. “Use mine, you can– mine, I’ll couch.”

“You’ll couch?” Chihoon looks at him with the trembling smile of someone who’s about to laugh. It falls off his face quickly when he takes in the guilt Hanjae knows he’s wearing openly on his face.

“Hyung, I–” It’s out of his mouth before Hanjae even knows it. “Tonight, something – Something has happened, and I think, think I should– say.”

Dylan’s giving him an analytical once over, and he stops at his moving hands, on his marked neck, looks at the door again – locked.

“Hanjae,” he says his name like it’s an insult, and for a moment Hanjae feels like it really is – his name, an insult.

He crumbles. “I’m sorry, so, so sorry, we just– I didn’t mean to– It was just, just a kiss, I think, and I– I–”

“You kissed him?! ‘You think’? What does that mean? What do you mean ‘you think’?!”

Hanjae looks around and then down, behind him. “Dylan…” he manages, airy, and doesn’t know what he wants the rest of the phrase to be, where he’s trying to take it.

Chihoon’s mouth hangs open, a painful disbelief, and then slowly shuts.

“You know what,” he says harshly, but not angrily – he sounds more disappointed than anything, more tired than anything. “I don’t want to know. Not now. I’ll know, just– Not now. But fucking Hell, Hanjae, you. You just had to, didn’t you? You saw an opportunity and you just had to.”

Hanjae’s breath catches. Dylan is a figure in his eyes, growing blurry.

“I’m taking your bed,” he announces. ”Eveytime he kicks me out from this day on, I’m sleeping on your bed.”

He storms off, his bare feet on the floor a sound until it isn’t anymore.

Hanjae knocks on the door, a small tap. Nothing.

He thinks of saying it again: sorry. But no one’s around to hear it, no one’s around to accept it. There’s no point.

#fictional idol community #fake kpop group #kpop au #kpop fanfic #kpop oc #&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ writing .#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ haruki .#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ hanjae .#&& ⠀ [ . . . ] hound on a hunt ⠀⸻ dylan .

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

Text

I’ve Told You Now - Bucky Barnes smut

The one where alpha!Bucky fucks you in front of the other avengers

Warnings: smut, a/b/o dynamics, public sex, oral (f), p in v, possessiveness

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: Thank you to my lovely @wakingbeauty for giving this a read for me! This is strictly the product of mine and @navybrat817‘s belief that public sex should be more common in A/B/O dynamics, so there you have it 😊 Also, I used a prompt the sweet @jbreenr gave me ages ago for a headcanon and I asked to save it for this story since it made such perfect sense! Hope you guys like it! I might write more public sex A/B/O smut in the very near future!

Bucky’s P.O.V.

Everyday was the same. I’d wake up and join the rest of the team for breakfast to find out that despite the fact that someone had saved me a seat, that same someone had thought of a new joke to make at my expense.

If I thought Tony’s nicknames were bad, this was a whole new level. It’s like she wanted to find all the little ways to annoy me, while still remaining mindful of my recovery process and triggers.

I’d never met an omega like that before. Back in my time, omegas were mostly prim and proper, almost shy around alphas, even if they were starting to show a little more skin and entertain the possibility of staying closer to us for longer periods of time.

I wasn’t used to someone who felt so comfortable with my intimidating aura, and the alpha in me definitely couldn’t grow used to seeing so much of her skin all the time. By now, I was sure she was doing it on purpose.

She knew how it affected me, she could smell it - every omega was able to identify when a nearby alpha was aroused. And I knew it turned her on in return. I was also biologically wired to sense that.

It was basically a game of who would break first. And I knew she thought she would win, but my resolve still wasn’t broken.

“Ah… What a lovely day. So full of possibilities… if you’re not a hundred years old,” she quickly added, throwing me a glance that had me rolling my eyes. “What do you say, grandpa? Feel like going out for a run?”

Who knows what I would have answered if she hadn’t decided to pull her hair up right at the second Wanda opened the window to look out into the field? The smile that had been on my face quickly dropped when I was hit with a heavy wave of her scent and my knees buckled as I tried to hold myself back from just jumping on top of her.

Unfortunately, because awareness was not something she seemed capable of having, she did not realize my struggle. “What’s wrong, old man? Can’t even keep up anymore?” The growl that escaped my chest at her joke was all the warning she needed to finally understand what was going on.

“I’ll show you what I can keep up.” I was on her in a second, my consciousness of our surroundings reduced to absolutely nothing. It was only her and me, and the way our lips moved as I guided her back to the couch, until we both fell on top of it.

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” I asked as I tore her shirt with a simple flick of my wrist. “Is this how you wanted it to happen? For me to lose all control and just take you right here?” All that left her was a garbled sound, her hands clawing at my back as I easily got rid of her jeans until they were nothing but scraps on the floor and then exposed her pussy to the tower’s living room.

“Fuck yes,” I growled, immediately leaning down to get a taste of her. Sweet and wet and mine, all mine. I had no idea where that possessive instinct had come from, but I would be crazy to ignore it - especially since it felt like I’d kill and die for her at that very second.

Her hips jerked up, instinctively searching for my tongue, but a breeze of clarity seemed to brush over her and make her sit up on her elbows, looking down at me. I knew what was running through her mind before she said it, and I wasn’t having any of it.

“You better lay back down and let me savor my meal,” I warned, knowing the rest of the team had gathered around to watch the show. I didn’t have to take my eyes off her debauched state to know it, but her gaze was on them, even if the rest of her body was still spread open for anyone to see, uncaring of the fact that we were being watched.

“You poked the beast, now you’ll entertain it,” Steve warned, shaking his head as if to scold us, but when I met his eyes, I could see the glint of desire in them. He wanted to be in my position, he wanted to have his own tongue shoved deep inside my girl’s pussy, and it only made me eat her more hungrily.

“Eyes on me, ‘mega,” I called out to her once I saw her eyes linger on Steve. “Let them watch, that’ll keep them away from you.” She groaned at the possessiveness in my words, but it was the sounds of someone who was relishing in it. And I was relishing in her juices.

“Fuck!” She cursed when I buried my tongue as far as it could go in her, something deep inside of me desperate to be drowning in her scent. “Should have gotten you mad before.”

The thought was amusing to me. Did she really think this was only the result of pent-up anger, and not months of desire and lust that had finally spilled from my weakened resolve?

“Well…” I started, pushing two fingers inside of her to scissor her open for me, although my scent had already made her body as prepared for an Alpha an Omega could get.

I was a bit larger than usual Alphas, though - courtesy of the serum - so I wanted to make sure she wouldn’t go through any pain whatsoever. “You keep me mad all the fucking time, kitten.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“With desire or anger, it doesn’t really care,” he continued, like it was any ordinary day and we were chatting in the living room, our usual teasing banter taking over the conversation, instead of him eating me out on the couch in front of all of our teammates while I was spread out for their eyes to take in.

“You’re always a tease to me, in one way or another.” His huge hands massaged the inside of my thighs as he finally lowered himself to suck on my nub again, making me instinctively buck my hips up in search of his tongue.

“Stay…” he ordered in his Alpha tone, and the whine that broke free from my chest was more animal than human now. The way he used his mouth was nothing short of sinful, licking me from ass to clit with an eagerness I had never expected the former Winter Soldier to have.

But I guess today I was discovering all of my fantasies about Bucky had been a bit misplaced. For one, I never thought he’d be the type of Alpha to take me in such a public environment.

In every dirty dream I’d had, Bucky was far too possessive to allow anyone to explore what was his - even if it was only visually - but what I’d come to learn was that while he was definitely dominating, there was a hint of exhibitionism in his craving.

He liked to have people see him break me into a million pieces only to glue me back together with a lick of his tongue. He liked that they were seeing his talent - and I had to admit, by what I saw in his friend’s stare, that they were also admiring me too.

And he got off on that. I didn’t expect it would make me get off too.

“Delicious,” he hummed when he finally pulled away from my cunt, having brought me to my release and licked it off of me. Still, an overwhelming amount of wetness covered the lower part of his face, prompting me to raise myself to my elbows and lick my own juices off of his lips, the omega in me begging to scent him as mine.

“You’re a nasty little bitch, aren’t you?” He chuckled once the surprise faded away, easily manhandling me onto my stomach, the sound of a zipper being opened denouncing that he had undressed.

“Keep fucking me and you’ll find out.” I heard him spitting behind me, a shiver running up my spine as I realized he was playing with himself while looking at me presenting for him.

“Oh, I’ll do much better than that.” That was all the warning I got before I felt the head of his member poking my entrance, slowly but surely sliding in until he had bottomed out.

My whines became intensified when he pulled me up by my hair, his free hand covering my breast to rub my nipple as he whispered, “I’m gonna claim you, sweetheart. You think you’re ready for that? Think you’ll be able to take it?”

I was quickly realizing I had severely underestimated the man inside of me, even if not to the extent he thought I had. I was not ready for that. I don’t think I ever would be, but fuck if I wasn’t gonna take it anyway.

Because it was so much better than I ever imagined it to be.

“No more playing hard-to-get,” Bucky continued, finally starting to move and immediately settling on a punishing pace. “No more teasing me with your short skirts and tempting scent. You’ll be mine now, ‘mega. Forever. How does that sound?”

God, I wanted him to do it. I wanted him to keep exercising this complete control over my body that he had so easily managed to take. His cock was stretching me in ways I’d never been stretched before, his inflated knot slamming against my opening with each thrust.

“Always mocking me… Am I too old for you now?” I shivered as he licked a stripe up my neck. I knew he wouldn’t actually bite me in front of everyone - a claiming ritual was a sacred ritual, even the most feral of Alphas respected the intimacy of that. But the way he was taunting me was all too arousing, I couldn’t deny it. “Tell me.”

His hand squeezed my hip, looking for an answer. I tried to open my mouth, but nothing came out. His palm slipped further down, finding my clit, and as two fingers rubbed my own juices, around it, I screamed.

“N-No!” Bucky chuckled against my neck, body continuing his onslaught against mine as he nuzzled my scent gland. “Y-you’re not too old for me. Take me, take me please.” His coos were too provoking, making me cry out loud at the mocking sound.

“Aw, kitten…” His warm mouth breathed the next words against my ear, “I already did.” He turned my face towards his with his fingers tangled in my hair, engulfing my mouth with his.

“Alright.” A familiar voice spoke from not too far, startling me for a second as I once again was reminded that we were still very much surrounded by our team. “You two might just be the sexiest mates I’ve ever seen fuck.”

A growl escaped Bucky’s chest at hearing someone refer to us as mates for the first time, and I panted in need, desperate to cum, desperate for him. “Seen a lot of mates fuck, Romanoff?” He nibbled at my ear, hands roaming over my body as if to make it very clear to every person watching that they could look all they wanted, I was still his.

“You have no idea.” Looking over a bit to the side from where she was seated, there rested Sam’s almost limp body, a hand curled over his boner as his eyes never wavered from the place I was connected to the man behind me.

“Well, I know what I’m gonna think about tonight.” Something between a laugh and a moan escaped me, making Bucky growl again, hands pushing me back down onto the couch as his hips picked up the pace with which they’d ruin me.

To say I was soaked was the understatement of the century. I could feel it, running down my thighs, drenching the couch underneath me. I don’t know how we’d be able to use it again, but that was the least of my concerns in the moment.

“I am begging you to let me lick her pussy after you guys are done,” came Tony’s voice, and I knew Bucky would growl in his direction just from the way his fingers pressed tightly on the flesh of my hips. “Not that type of Alpha, sorry, I got it.”

I heard his footsteps retreating quickly, probably scared of what Bucky would do to him once we were done, but in the Alpha’s defense, Tony seemed to disappear from his mind the second he left the room, all of his senses directed to me and his goal of making me cum around his cock.

“C’mon, kitten,” he whispered, fingers easily locating my clit to play with me as he pulled me up to rest against his chest one more. “Come for me, milk me dry.” That was all I needed to give him what he wanted, and although I was anticipating to moan loudly as I creamed his knot, his mouth covered mine to swallow all of my sounds in a deep kiss, hands protectively covering me while pawing at my breasts at the same time.

“Steve,” Bucky called after he managed to catch his breath, having fallen on top of me on the couch once his knot popped open. “I won’t be able to work out with you today.”

I looked up as best as I could to find Steve already staring at us, although red from head to toe. “That’s understandable,” he spoke in a thick, rough voice that I barely recognized as his. “You seem to have worked out enough already.”

Bucky stopped running his nose against my cheek at his friend’s attempt at teasing, a slow smirk taking over his face as he joined me and stared at his friend. “Oh, I’m not nearly done,” he warned. “You’re more than welcome to join us for some cardio, if you want to.”

The soft smile Steve sent our way told us everything we needed to know about his plans for the evening.

#my fics #alpha au #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes reader #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes reader inserts #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot

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tobesolonely · 3 years

Text

grammy night

A/n: like most of you, watching harry perform WS did something to me. i rushed to my computer to write this IMMEDIATELY... not proofread but i hope u all enjoy nonetheless! Thanks @nationalharryleague for looking this over and hyping me up.

summary: y/n wants to show her grammy winning boyfriend just how proud she is of him💕

warnings: smut, mentions of the pandemic!

word count: ~3k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

You decided that “Harry Styles, Grammy-nominated artist!” had a lovely ring to it.

Harry knew how proud you were of him; you had been making it known to him in the days leading up to his big night. You fretted over him more than you usually did, showered him in an obnoxious amount of compliments, and were the most intimate you’d ever been with him–– but who was he to complain?

Obviously, he knew you could care less whether he won or lost, and quite frankly, he didn’t care either. Just being able to perform at the Grammy’s, much less open it, was the opportunity of a lifetime. The fact that he was hitting such a big professional milestone with you by his side just made it that much better. You were both buzzing.

It had been months since Harry had performed. You knew how much he missed being in front of a live audience and hearing people scream his name, conceited as he was. He had been spending so much time rehearsing the one song he was performing, wanting it to be absolutely perfect. Your boyfriend was a perfectionist, after all! If he was going to do something, he either did it one hundred and ten percent, or he didn’t do it at all.

Although you were used to your boyfriend’s pre-performance jitters, it still wasn’t an easy sight to see. He would pace so much that beads of sweat would collect in his hairline; he’d shake, tremble, and have to be reminded to breathe. You’d think after ten years of doing this he would be a pro, but he was only human, after all.

“Been so long since I performed in front of people,” Harry muttered to you, examining his reflection in his make-shift dressing room. “‘M nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous,” you reply, coming up behind him to rub his shoulders. He shoots you a look in the mirror. “I know it’s easier said than done but you have nothing to worry about. It’s “Watermelon Sugar” honey–– you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve performed this one dozens of times.”

“Things are jus’ so different now,” his voice drops an octave. “What if people are tired of the song?”

“I don’t think people are tired of the song.”

“It played on the radio a lot. Came out in 2019––”

“...And you’ve been busy with other things. No one’s gonna be upset that you haven’t released new music in the middle of a pandemic H, I promise you.”

Harry’s gaze meets yours again in the mirror briefly before he tilts his head back, silently asking for a kiss. You plant one on his lips before grabbing a tissue from a small table beside him, dabbing at his hairline.

“Stop sweating everything off, Harry,” you playfully scold your boyfriend. “Make-up artist has already been by to touch you up three times already, she’s probably running out of product.”

Your boyfriend lightly chuckles at this, causing you to smile. “I’ll just tell my body to cut it out. How’s tha’ sound?”

“Sounds good,” you reply, leaning down to kiss his nose. “You alright?”

You notice Harry deeply inhale. “I think so. How do I look?”

“Like a Grammy-nominated, soon-to-be Grammy-winning, artist.”

Harry’s skin flushes. “Stop it…” The sound of three short knocks on the door of his dressing room causes panic to flood his features.

“Hey, look at me,” you gently grab your boyfriend’s chin, turning his gaze up towards yours. “It’s my job to believe in you when you don’t believe in yourself. If you get nervous just know I’ll be sitting as close to the stage as they’ll let me.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. Now, go make me proud.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“Breathe me in, breathe me out…”

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought Harry’s nerves in his dressing room were all theatrics. He was so in his element on stage, you were one hundred percent sure no one knew he was so nervous twenty minutes prior that he was turning green. He kept looking out into the small crowd, searching for you, and flashing you a dimpled grin once he did.

You were enjoying watching him prance around the stage while trying to keep up with the band on stage, looking a bit too proud of himself when he was able to stay on the beat while rhythmically snapping his hips along to the song. As the song came to an end and the dimmed lights started coming back on, you were led back to Harry’s dressing room by one of his guards as you heard the next performer being introduced.

“How did I do?” Harry asks loudly, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

His voice causes you to jump. “You scared the shit out of me! How’d you get off stage so quickly?”

Harry grabs your arm and pulls you off the couch, wrapping you in a tight, sweaty hug. “Don’t know. I basically ran to ya.”

“You did incredibly,” you tell him, lips ghosting over his. “Just like I knew you would. I don’t wanna say you were nervous for nothing, but you kinda were.”

“Don’t wanna hear your teasin’.”

“Did you see how everyone was looking at you?”

“I only saw how you were lookin’ at me. I was only lookin’ at you.”

Your body heats up at Harry’s admission, causing you to look away. “You’re so cheesy, H.”

“I think I would’ve been about fifty times more nervous if you weren’t here with me,” he presses his nose against yours. “Thank you for bein’ here, Y/N. You make this whole thing so much more doable.” Harry places one… two… three wet kisses to your cheek before pulling away, walking back over to close the door he left open during his excitement to re-join you.

“Changing?”

“Yeah,” Harry turns to look at you as he pulls off his jacket. The sight of his bare chest causes you to thickly swallow. “‘M gonna put what I was wearin’ on the red carpet back on. We’re gonna move outside.”

You simply hum in response to what Harry said, sitting back on the couch to scroll through your phone as you wait for him to finish changing. Everyone was congratulating Harry on his performance and wishing him luck on his nominations. You read all the good luck texts for him that were sent to you out loud, watching as his smile grows bigger and bigger from all the love he was being showered in.

After helping Harry powder his T-zone you let him lead you out of the small room and out into an area with spaced-out circular tables, most of them with just two or three seats at them. The Grammy’s in the middle of a pandemic was unlike anything you had ever seen before, and you were pleasantly surprised at how smoothly things were running. Jeff is already sat at the table when you and Harry join him and you can visibly see him let out the breath he was holding.

“Your boyfriend ran off stage so quickly I thought I was gonna have to set up a search party to find him,” Jeff tells you, a slight hint of annoyance present in his voice. He then turns to Harry and says, “Fix your mask, please.”

“It is fixed,” Harry grumbles but adjusts it nonetheless, causing you to giggle.

Even though it was obvious your boyfriend was enjoying himself, you could still tell he was extremely nervous the closer it became to announcing the winner of the category he was nominated in. His grip on your thigh kept growing tighter and tighter and although you didn’t hate it, you worried he might cut off your circulation soon if he didn’t let go of you soon.

“H, take a deep breath,” you lean over to whisper in his ear. “You’re gonna make my thigh fall off.”

“Sorry, love,” if you could see his mouth under his mask, you’d see him biting his plump lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my fuckin’ life.”

“Never?”

“Have I?”

“I dunno. I’m asking you.”

You see Harry’s eyes crinkle. “Maybe when I asked you out for the first time.”

“You are seriously so cheesy.”

Harry doesn’t respond, just takes your hand in his and directs his attention back to the stage. His palm is sweaty in yours but you don’t release his grip on your hand, wanting to offer him as much comfort as you possibly could.

When they start naming the nominees for Best Pop Solo Performance, you literally have to remind Harry to control his breathing. Although he won’t be upset if he doesn’t win, you know it would still mean quite a bit to him if he did.

“And the winner for Best Pop Solo Performance is… Harry Styles!”

Your mouth falls open in shock as you turn to fully face your boyfriend who was looking down at your intertwined hands, eyes wide in surprise. He genuinely wasn’t expecting to win and that made this victory that much sweeter.

“Harry!” You yell to be heard above the cheers and applause of his colleagues in the crowd. Jeff stands and grabs Harry’s hand, pulling him out of his seat and into a tight hug. You stand up and clap loudly in admiration for your boyfriend, willing the tears not to fall from your eyes. He removes himself from Jeff and pulls you into him, your head pressed against his chest.

“I won a fuckin’ Grammy!” Harry shouts.

“I know!” You shout back, probably more excited than he was. “Get up there!”

Your boyfriend quickly removes his mask and hands it to you before hurrying to the makeshift stage, hugging the presenter before touching his Grammy in awe. He picks it up and then slowly sets it back down, shaking his head in disbelief.

“To everyone who made this record with me, thank you so much…”

You can’t stop the few tears that spill over your waterline–– you were so unbelievably proud of him. You’re not even paying attention to his acceptance speech as you’re too preoccupied with looking at everyone staring at your boyfriend in admiration.

“Lastly, I want to thank my girlfriend who’s sitting right there next to my manager, Jeffrey. She’s my number one fan, always believes in me when I don’t believe in myself,” he looks down at his shoes bashfully. “Wouldn’t be half the man I am today if it weren’t for her. This is our Grammy, love.”

You blow kisses to your boyfriend, ignoring the feeling of everyone’s eyes on you. As far as you were concerned, you and Harry were the only two people around at that moment. Your heart couldn’t have been any more full.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

To absolutely no one's surprise, you and Harry couldn’t keep your hands off each other for the remainder of the night. You were relieved there were no after parties being held that Harry would be expected to attend due to the pandemic because you could not get him alone fast enough.

“Slow down, Y/N,” Harry sets his Grammy on the foyer table as he kicks off his shoes. “Just us, innit? We’ve got all night, haven’t we?”

“I’m just so proud,” you tell him breathlessly, sucking on the underside of his jaw. “Let me show you.”

“You have been showin’ me. A lot, actually,” Harry leans his head back and closes his eyes in pleasure as you lick tantalizingly slow against his veiny neck. “Guess one more time wouldn’t hurt, though.”

“Do you want me to blow you or not?”

“Oh, so that’s what’s gonna happen here?”

“If you’re gonna be annoying, then no.”

“Kiiiding,” Harry rolls his eyes, pressing a gentle kiss to your nose. “C’mon, let me get you upstairs.”

”You’re the one that won a Grammy, not me,” you remind him. “Let me make you feel good.”

Harry lets out a quiet hum, guiding you towards the couch. “Exactly–– I’m the winner. Doesn’t that mean I should get what I want tonight?” He falls backward onto the couch, pulling you atop his lap. His hand roams down the front of your dress and he squeezes your breasts roughly, clearly delighted that you decided to forgo a bra tonight.

“I suppose,” you answer, biting back a moan.

“You suppose? Not in the mood for it tonight?” He starts to retract his hand but you grab his wrist, stopping him.

“I am!” You don’t even try to hide how desperate you are for your boyfriend.

“Gonna let me taste you, hmm?” As Harry asks his question he slowly slides off the couch and onto his knees in front of you, bunching your dress up around your hips. He leans in close to your already dripping center and inhales deeply, a blissed-out look on his face. “Smell fuckin’ incredible. I gotta taste ya.”

You spread your legs wider without even thinking about it, almost as if it’s on instinct. Harry easily moves your underwear to the side and immediately connects his lips with your clit, not giving you time to adjust to the sensation before he’s just going at it.

“Oh, Harry…”

“Rings on or off?” His voice is muffled due to your thighs being clamped around his head, but you can still understand what he’s saying.

“On!”

Harry chuckles against your cunt before sliding his index finger in with ease, loving the way you immediately clenched around the digit. “Y’like that, lovie? Wanna take another one?”

“Please.” Your boyfriend already has you breathless despite the fact that he was just getting started.

Harry slips his middle finger into you along with his index finger and starts curling it up in the way he knew you liked, trying his hardest to stimulate your g-spot. He looks extremely focused; leave it to Harry to make a night that was supposed to be all about him, not.

“S’fuckin’ tight,” he says, more so to himself. “You’d think with all the shags we’ve been ‘avin lately you’d be used to my fingers by now.”

You let out a loud groan at your boyfriend’s dirty talk. He knew that it was one of your biggest kinks so he usually overdid it just a tad bit. It’s not like you were complaining, though.

“Guess that means you’re not fuckin’ me hard enough, huh?”

Harry stops his movements and looks up at you through slightly hooded eyes, an amused (but not really) look on his face. “Not fuckin’ you hard enough? Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

You can tell by the tone of Harry’s voice that he has it out for you now, but there’s no use in recanting your statement. He was about to make sweet, primal, love to you and god were you ready. Harry goes back to mercilessly fucking into you with his thick fingers, speeding up or slowing down his pace based on how you clench around him.

”Fuck, H.”

“Feels nice?” He goes from moving his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion to a scissoring motion which feels just as good if not better.

“Yeah, really nice,” your fingers are tangled in Harry’s hair and you know he’ll give you hell later for getting it all knotted. “I’m close.”

“Already? Haven’t even properly fucked you yet,” Harry removes his fingers from you aching cunt agonizingly slow, wiping them on his expensive Gucci trousers. “Guess I’ll jus’ have to fix that, yeah?”

“I guess so.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you tonight, pet. Is that really any way to treat your Grammy-winning boyfriend-”

“Harry, come off it!” You exclaim, letting out a loud laugh as you watch him stand up and unbutton his pants. “You’re insufferable, I swear.”

Harry shoots you one of his blindingly bright smiles, wiggling his eyebrows as his pants pool around his feet. “Hey, ‘m just statin’ facts.”

He collapses onto the couch and pats his lap, giving his leaking cock two quick tugs. “Ride me.”

“Just because you won a Grammy doesn’t mean you don’t have to ask nicely anymore.”

“Y/N, my beautiful, dazzling, elegant girlfriend, will you please do me the honors of riding––”

“Why do you make everything so weird?” You groan as Harry laughs and pulls you into his lap with ease, wincing when your thigh brushes against his cock. Wordlessly, he places his hands on your hips and helps you sink down onto him, taking his lip in between his teeth to keep from yelling out.

”Fuck me…”

“I’m about to,” you reply, resting your head on his shoulder as you adjust to his size. His hands roam the expanse of your back as he waits for you to get used to the feeling on him, wanting to feel every part of your body all at once. Without warning, you begin sluggishly rolling your hips. You were in no rush anymore; you had him inside of you, and that was all you wanted from the start.

“S’that all you got in ya?” His tone is cheeky, almost mocking. “I think you can give me more than tha’.”

“I dunno if I can.”

“Why’s that?” Harry bucks his hips upward slightly causing you to let out a loud gasp.

“I just want you to fuck me. I don’t wanna do any work.”

At this, Harry quickly flips you over so your sweaty body is now below his. You moan at the sensation the new angle immediately brought you. “Want me on top like this? This is how you wanna have me, angel?”

You nod.

“Answer me.”

“Yes, Harry,” your eyes squeeze shut as Harry begins quickly thrusting into you. “God, yes. That feels amazing.”

“Yeah? Do you like it when I fuck you like this?” Harry reaches his hand down to thumb at you clit and raises an eyebrow while awaiting your answer.

“God,” you grab onto your breasts to prevent them from bouncing around as Harry’s thrusting into you but he rips your hand away.

“Wanna see ‘em.”

“Right there,” you moan, no longer trying to bite back your sounds of pleasure. Between Harry eating you out, fingering you, and now fucking you harder than he has in ages, you were a few sloppy thrusts away from coming all over his cock. “I’m gonna cum–”

“...Already?”

You know he’s teasing but you still reach between your sweaty bodies to swat at his bare chest. “Don’t tease!”

“‘M messin’ with ya, puppy,” Harry pushes his curls out of his eyes. “I’m almost there- you first. Cum for me, Y/N.”

Harry doesn’t have to tell you twice. You spasm around his cock as soon as he tells you to, lifting your hips up to meet him as you could tell he was growing tired. Harry pulls out moments later, muttering a quick, “Where do you want it?” before finishing on your chest.

The silence that fills the room is comforting but of course, it’s cut short by your pest of a boyfriend.

“If that's what I got just for winning one Grammy, what would I get if I won the others?”

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic

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dreamingofaizawa · 3 years

Text

Potent

Alpha! Hanta Sero x Fem! Omega! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18 please vacate the premises.

Warnings: A/B/O, smut, knotting, marking, breeding kink (sorta? idk it comes with the A/B/O territory), a hint of pregnancy kink, a bit of blood

Word Count: 3.6 k

Author's Note: Ohhhhkaayyy so this has been sitting in my google doc for AGES. I think I started this in...October of last year? It's been sitting there for months and I've lacked the motivation to finish and post it but then I sent in an anon ask to @reinawritesbnha and, being the absolute queen she is, she became the little push I needed to do it. I DID IT FOR REINA!!

Also, this is some of my earliest writing and I only skimmed and edited a little bit of it so if there's a little bit of weird pacing or a strange cutoff where the writing styles clash it's because I haven't touched this piece in months.

Anywho, enjoy~

It had to happen when you were surrounded by alphas.

Your suppressants flaked out, again, and your scent wafted through the air on the street. Normally It’d be fine for an omega to let their scent float freely around them. But your scent is particularly...potent, even when you weren’t in heat. Not only that, but you weren’t mated yet, your scent glands still bare, and you still didn’t have a pack. To make matters worse, you’re quirkless.

You hadn’t realised what was happening until your path was blocked by an especially large male alpha. You turned around, and there were two more behind you. Fuck. This isn’t good. You took in your surroundings and searched for an exit, but you couldn’t find a way out. There's no way you’d be able to outrun the three very large male alphas.

Probably the worst part is that more alphas are turning their head toward you, taking notice of your lavender honey and rain scent that slowly began turning to a sour swamp. You dared to hope that change would ward off the three cornering you, but they’d already got a whiff of you. Several distressed chirps sounded from your chest, voicing your discomfort, and you glared pointedly at the three alphas as they edged closer to you.

You hate when this happened. Why’d you have to be cursed like this? Your growls only grew, baring your little omega fangs. There’s no way in hell you’d let some stranger scent you, let alone one of these creeps. They wouldn’t take the damn hint and just crept closer to you, calling out to the ‘pretty little omega’ to ‘come have some fun’.

You’re scared now, the involuntary chirps in your chest coming more frequently. None of the other alphas or betas on the street were big enough to face the three, making you a sitting duck and a ragdoll if they wanted you to be. Your claws are small, nowhere near ideal for this situation, but you’d use them if you needed to. With a final low defiant growl you dropped your bag against the wall behind you and readied yourself for a fight.

Suddenly a large body dropped in front of you, his back to you. His scent alone hit you like a freight train, orange zest, mint, tree bark and something earthy. It had your head spinning, nearly sending you into an early heat. He growled, low and powerful, the sound rattling in your chest and making you sink further into the wall behind you. The other three alpha’s scents together were still overpowered by the new alpha before you, and they vanished faster than they appeared.

He turned around and stepped away from you, giving you space to breathe. He kneeled down enough so he was eye level with you, his hands reaching out clearly in an attempt to comfort you, but kept from touching you.

“Are you okay?” The question barely registered, still delirious from his scent, and you’re having a hard time recovering. Large hands grip your shoulders and shake you lightly, your mind beginning to clear with the soothing pheromones he’s releasing.

“Omega.” The command snapped you to attention, your gaze fixated on his own dark irises.

“Are you okay, omega?” You blink, swallow down the lump in your throat, take a deep breath.

“Yeah...I’m okay. Thank you, alpha.” But you’re not quite okay. You need to get home. Fast. The alpha seemed to catch on, probably by your scent that still hadn’t returned to normal. He stands and slips off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders and wrapping you in his scent. It’s a comforting gesture.

“Let’s get you home.” With a nod you set off, the man walking next to you with a strong, warm hand on the middle of your back.

“What’s your name?” You introduce yourself, and he does the same. His name is Sero Hanta, and now that you’re calm again, you take in just how handsome he is.

Raven hair is pulled back into a small bun, showing off his undercut and strong, sharp jawline. Onyx eyes shine with kindness and playful mischief, and a beaming grin reveals pearly white teeth. He’s incredibly toned, his muscles calmly rippling under the t-shirt that stretched over his chest. You vaguely noticed the strange shape of his elbows, but disregarded it as his quirk. The omega in you is howling, begging for this alpha, his scent invading your senses. But you suppress it quickly, reminding yourself you’d only just met this man.

As you reach your apartment you exchange phone numbers, and he tells you to keep the jacket and use it when you go out to ward off any unwanted attention. You thank him again for helping you earlier, and he waves to you as he walks down the hall and enters the elevator, the doors closing in front of his handsome smiling face.

Despite meeting him only ten minutes earlier your instincts trust the alpha, and you hold the jacket close to your face, breathing in his scent. It’s wonderful, and your inner omega is in love. You find yourself wondering when you’d see him again.

The next few days are riddled with work and calls to your doctor about the strength of your suppressants. You work from home as a secretary for a small company. It’s a miracle you’d found it, too. Nobody wants an omega, let alone a potent one. It’s an alpha’s world, you guess. When this job opening popped up you were ecstatic, so you took it and have been working from home with decent pay for the last five years.

The calls to your doctor were not going as smoothly as your job, though. You leave a message every four hours until she finally calls you back. She was concerned since the suppressants she’d prescribed are the strongest out there, and if your scent was overpowering them they were either defective or your scent glands were overproducing. It wasn’t an immediate threat to your health, it only meant you’d be drawing more attention than you wanted to. Still, it’s annoying and makes life so much harder than it needs to be.

After she prescribed twice the amount, she said she’d look over your tests from the latest visit before she hung up the phone. You groaned once the call ended. You seriously needed a break from your second gender. Taking the prescribed double dose of suppressants, you got ready to go out to the corner cafe to read and drink coffee. Hopefully the new amount will keep steady. You really don’t want to deal with any more aggressive alphas this week. For good measure you pull on Sero’s jacket, allowing his scent to cover you, then grab your keys, phone, wallet and a book and begin the walk.

When you arrive at the cafe you order a hot mocha, curl into the small corner booth and crack open the book. You got lost in the ink and your mind floated along the adventure, putting yourself in the shoes of the main character and leading the mission to take down the corrupt queen who’d framed you for killing the prince of a neighboring kingdom. You were ripped from the fantasy world when a bright, enthusiastic blonde came up and tapped you on the shoulder, making you jump. His smile was as bright as his hair.

“Sorry to scare you cutie, but I couldn’t help but notice that jacket of yours smells an awful lot like my friend Sero!” You smile softly at the blonde.

“Well if we’re talking about the same Sero Hanta, then your nose would be correct. This is his jacket.” His eyes widen as he nods.

“Oh my gosh you must be the omega he keeps talk-” The blonde’s words became muffled by a large hand. A hand that belonged to the very man you were talking about. Sero smiles apologetically down at you as he shoves the blonde back to where you assume they’re sitting.

“Sorry about Kami, he’s… extroverted.” You smile back at him, mostly because you’re happy to see him again.

“It’s no problem at all. He recognized your scent on me.” He looked down and only then realized you’re wearing his jacket, and he beams at you. Then he takes a glance at the booth you’re sitting all alone at, his smile falling just a bit.

“Do you wanna come sit with us?” You take a moment to think about the offer, then agree with a nod. Your omega couldn’t pass up more time with him.

As you approach the booth you notice there are more people with Sero than you anticipated. There were four other people sitting there. Sero introduced all of them from left to right. Bakugo Katsuki, Kirishima Eijiro, Ashido Mina, and the happy blonde from earlier is Kaminari Denki. You introduce yourself and when Sero slid into the booth, you followed after him.

These five are a tight pack, and you learn they all met in high school. Bakugo’s brash personality made you wary at first, but it didn’t take long to realize he’s just like that with everyone. He makes a bit of a snippy remark, which you easily counter, and he smirks while the rest smile or snicker. It would seem they like you.

You can’t tell what their second genders are, and you mentally kick yourself for even wondering in the first place. Their genders are none of your concern, but you can’t blame yourself when you’re constantly alert because of your own stupid second gender. As it turns out, you don’t need to wait very long to find out.

This time you smell your own scent as it permeates the air around you. You swear under your breath at the stupid suppressants that obviously can’t so their job, and the others snap their gazes to you. You sigh.

“Yeah, that scent is me. My suppressants flaked again. Sorry about that.” They all nodded, seemingly understanding. Sero must have told them about the other day. Of course, it would soon repeat. It didn’t take long for an alpha to take notice of your scent. The man -- why is it always the largest males??? -- strides up to the booth with a cocksure grin and leans down to inhale your scent. You duck away from him, into Sero, and let out an albeit small warning growl that was drowned in Sero and Kirishima’s. He ignored them all the same.

“Hey there little omega, you smell real nice. You wanna come hang with me instead? We can have some fun together with my buddies, what do you say?” The others stayed quiet. They’re going to let you defend yourself before they do anything in case they end up escalating the situation. You turn your head and lift your shoulder, hiding your scent gland.

“I’m not interested, thank you. Please leave me alone.” You hoped to whatever deity watched over you that the man would leave. Before anyone could react the alpha grabbed your wrist in a vice grip, yanking you roughly from your seat. You chirp, your scent turning sour and the entire pack abruptly stands, baring their fangs at the man. It barely registered in your head that Kirishima and Bakugo are alphas, Mina is a beta, and Kaminari is an omega, their fangs giving them away.

The man tightens his grip on your wrist and you cry out, your bones creaking under the pressure. With no other options you did the one thing that would get him to let go, and sank your fangs into his wrist. You jump back into Sero, who wraps an arm around you protectively.

“You bit me, you bitch!” He raises an arm, clearly about to try and hit you, but a large hand grabs his wrist. Surprisingly enough it’s Bakugo, and his growl is laced into his words.

“Leave now, or you lose a hand.” Sero speaks up from above you.

“You might wanna listen, amigo. That’s Dynamight.” The alpha rips his arm from Bakugo’s hold and looks down at you, and you growl at him as he scoffs and walks away, apparently not ready to fight the #2 pro hero over an omega.

You all sit back down and you pull up the sleeve of the jacket to inspect the already forming bruise on your wrist. Your nose wrinkles with a half-angry half-pained snarl. Tenderly, Sero takes your wrist and lightly squeezes the sides of your forearm, against your bones, and your lack of reaction tells him nothing’s broken. Still, he growls at the offending bruise.

“I’m gonna kill him.” You shake your head and put a hand over his.

“It’s not worth it Sero. He’s probably long gone.” You turn to the rest of the pack.

“Thank you for protecting me.” Kirishima is the first to speak.

“Of course! That dude was a jerk. I just hope he doesn’t go around doing that to other omegas.” Bakugo, surprisingly, spoke next.

“Obviously we’d protect you. You’re a potent omega and quirkless, so you attract unwanted attention without even knowing or wanting to. Besides, if you’re gonna be Sero’s omega there’s no way in hell we’d let some extra handle you like that.” The implications make your face burn, and Kirishima smacks the blonde’s arm with a ‘Don’t just say that kind of thing, Katsuki.’

After an hour or two of talking, and shockingly no other aggressive alphas, they all walk you home to your apartment. Sero wanted to check on your wrist again, so you invited them all in, but they all had something else to do, so you were left alone with Sero. The fact that the one alpha you desperately wanted to be around is alone with you in your apartment is both great and terrible. Thankfully, you have self-control and his own suppressants are working perfectly fine.

He inspected the darkening bruise on your wrist, his large hands gripping your arm tenderly and turning it gently as he prods at the skin. It doesn’t hurt too bad, so you assure him you’ll be perfectly fine. Eventually he leaves with a hug and you sigh once the door is closed, relieved that you were able to keep your omega at bay and your hands to yourself.

A couple days later you get a text from him and the two of you text often, asking how each other’s day went, if anything interesting had happened. You didn’t leave your apartment unless you needed to, since your suppressants clearly weren’t working, so you made sure to cut grocery trips short and keep away from any alphas that seemed a bit aggressive. Sero invited you to hang out with the pack at their house, and you obliged.

They lived in a huge house all together. Most of the rooms were sealed so no scents or sounds could go in or out for ruts and heats, and there were several spare rooms that were empty and waiting for more pack members. It was a fun hangout, filled with video games and good conversation, and even better food which Bakugo cooked. Sero had an arm around you whenever he was close, and you definitely didn’t mind. Your suppressants flaked in the middle, again, and Sero insisted he walk you home. With him walking you home there weren’t any alphas trying to get you this time. You ended up going over to hang out with them a lot when you weren’t working, and eventually Sero began to court you.

Obviously, you accepted, and after a few months of dating and scenting, your overactive scent glands seemed to mellow out, Sero’s scent mixing with it. Your suppressants are lasting much longer now, which is a good sign. Now that you’re Sero’s omega, he often helped you with your heats and you’d help him with his ruts, and he was strong-willed enough that he hadn’t marked or knotted you in the middle of things.

About a year and a half into the relationship you realize you really love him. Sure you had arguments, but everything was settled through calmed discussions over coffee or tea, and you came to understand each other well enough that arguments became few and far between.

You’re happy with Sero, so when your heat came around early and he was there to help, you were going to let him know just how much you loved him.

You texted him once you felt it starting. He was there within half an hour, and you pounced on him once the font door closed, smothering him in hot, wet kisses, eager to feel him inside you. He carries you to the bedroom, and you two are quick in shedding all of your clothes. He lays you on your back with a hand on your throat as he growls into your ear, making a hot shudder roll down your spine.

“Are you ready for me omega?” You whine and nod, your slick already dripping down your folds. You want him so bad it hurts.

“Please alpha, I need your cock.” He growls again, satisfied with your answer, and he presses into you, bottoming out with one firm thrust. You chant his name like a mantra as he set a bruising pace, rutting into you recklessly, wet skin slapping on skin the only other sound beside your whimpers and his growls. His teeth nip at your shoulder, sharp fangs testing your skin and claws digging into the fat of your hips. His cock is so deep, hot swollen tip kissing your cervix with every full-bodied thrust and sending you into a euphoric haze. Your own claws are sinking into his back, leaving little trails of red and blood beading down the lines. It drives him wild every time.

“That’s right, little omega. Mark me up, I’m all yours. Fuck you’re so pretty underneath me like this.” His hands grip behind your knees and press them into your chest, folding you nearly in half as he plows into you further. The angle knocks the breath from your lungs and your eyes roll back. You can feel his knot beginning to swell, feel how his thrusts are getting more controlled and his grip on your thighs tighten from the sheer concentration it’s taking for him not to breed you. You have other plans. Between wheezed breaths you squeak out.

“H-hantaaa~” He slows to a near snail’s pace, grinding his slowly growing cock into your sweet spot, a smirk stretching across his face as you splutter from the sudden change. He’s enjoying making you squirm.

“What is it, sweetness? Tell your alpha what you need.” You pant, chest heaving as much as the position will allow.

“Want your mark, want your knot~ Wanna be bred Hanta! I want your pups!” He stills completely, claws digging into the fat of your thighs with enough force to have drops of blood falling to the sheets beneath you. You’d never said anything like that in the heat of the moment. He can’t have heard you correctly...right?

“Princesa, do you know what you just said?” The seriousness in his tone has you sobering, but even before you knew exactly what you were saying. You nod frantically, wiggling your hips to get him to move again.

“Yes! I know alpha! Please, give me your knot~” His growl makes your bones shake, and with no warning he drops your legs around his waist and leans down so his face is buried in your neck.

“Fuck, I’m gonna trust you with this baby girl. I’ll give you exactly what you want.” His fangs sink into your scent gland just as he picks up his brutal pace, and the euphoria makes you cum hard, your whole body locking up and mouth falling open in a silent scream. He plows into you as you regain your breath, and you bite down on his own scent gland as hard as you can, tearing into his skin with every intention of leaving a pretty scar for the world to see.

His knot swells more, and he’s pushing it into you with every ounce of power he can generate with that gorgeous body of his. With one final snap of his hips he locks his body to yours and cums hard, ropes of hot seed filling you to the brim. He collapses on top of you and laps at the wound on your neck and you do the same. After a few minutes he leans back and cups your face in his hand, gazing down at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

“Are you alright?” You nod, nuzzling into his palm.

“I’m sorry. I was gonna talk to you about it, but my heat came early.” He kisses your forehead gently, brushing the strands of hair from your face.

“It’s okay, pretty thing. I trust you know what you’re getting yourself into.” You giggle and wrap your arms around him.

“Of course I do. I love you, Hanta.”

“I love you too.” You lay there, tangled in each other’s arms until his knot goes down. You whine at the loss when his cock slips out of you, clawing at him to come back because you’re still in heat. His hand gently wraps around your neck, a low chuckle on his lips.

“Relax, we’re far from done.” His already hard erection rubs up and down your glistening folds, barely stimulating your clit, teasing you until tears prick your eyes and you’re beggin him to fuck you again.

“When I’m done you won’t be able to walk for days. I’m gonna breed you so well, You’re gonna look so pretty all big and round with my pups.” He groans at the image he’d conjured in his head and you squeal as he slams his hips into you.

You’re in for a wonderfully long night.

#sero hanta #sero hanta mha #sero hanta bnha #sero hanta x reader #sero hanta x fem reader #sero hanta smut #hanta sero #hanta sero mha #hanta sero bnha #hanta sero x reader #hanta sero x fem reader #hanta sero smut #omegaverse #tw: a/b/o

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watchyourbluesturngolden · 3 years

Text

howard stern

I'M BACK BESTIES!!!!! i'm not totally back to my normal writing, but I finally got through a whole piece! anyways I really liked this and i hope you do too :)

warnings: howard stern being a bitch, talk of weight & body image

word count: 2.1k

"Hello Harry, how are you doing today?"

"I'm well, thank you," Harry answered with a smile. He was on the Howard Stern Show, his first interview since Stevie had been born. He hadn't really wanted to; Howard was kind of a prick. Everyone knew this, but Jeff was convinced this was the right move. He said it would be good for Harry to get back into the swing of things, and no one else was available on short notice. In the end, Harry only agreed because you had pushed him to, reminding him it wouldn't be a very long interview and then he wouldn't have to interact with the abrasive man again for a long time.

"That's good to hear," Howard said. "How have you been these past couple months? Have you been getting anything done?"

"Not much that's music related, honestly," Harry laughed. "I've been busy with family things."

"Yeah, you've kind of been hiding away from the world for a while here, what's that about?"

"Well, as I'm sure you already know, my wonderful wife had a baby recently, so I've been pretty busy... just navigating the world of fatherhood." A smile crept onto his face at the mention of Stevie.

"That's a lot, isn't it? Babies are awful at that age," Howard chuckled.

"Uh- I wouldn't say awful," Harry's smile dropped a little and he sighed internally. He already knew how the rest of this interview would go: thinly veiled insults, questions that were way too personal, and having to pretend he didn't want to get up and walk out of the room. But he knew that wouldn't be a very good look for him, so he gritted his teeth and tried to think of happy things. Specifically, the fact that he would get to go home to his wife and baby in less than two hours. "She's a very sweet baby, we're completely in love with her."

"Yeah, sometimes they're cute, but mostly they just cry and wake you up in the night, don't they?" Howard asked smugly, as if he knew Harry's baby better than Harry did.

"Well, of course she wakes up in the night sometimes. She's hungry, can't blame her for wanting food, can I?" Harry asked, trying to speak lightly and with a smile, but he could feel his patience slipping. He was ready to go home and he was not in the mood to pretend to be happy when this man was clearly insulting his child.

"Sure, I just wish babies could be a bit less annoying when they want something."

Harry nodded, plastering a smile that hopefully looked real on his face.

"So, besides the annoying baby, how's the family? Everybody healthy over there?"

Harry nodded. "Everybody's happy and healthy. A little sleep deprived, of course, but we're managing well, i think. And by we, I mean Y/N. She's truly... just amazing. I have no idea how she does it- she's the one keeping everything together. There's no way I could do any of this without her."

"Yeah, she seems pretty great! I remember though, at first we were all a little uncertain about her. She's not exactly like the other women you have a history with, is she?"

"She's-" Harry started talking, but Howard cut him off.

"I just mean, we were used to seeing you with models and actresses and the like, so it was a bit of a shock to see you with one of us commoners, you know?"

Harry huffed a small laugh, still trying to sound polite. "When you love someone, that's all that matters."

"Right, of course, but don't you get bored sometimes? You stopped going out so much when you got with her, almost like she was keeping you captive or something," He laughed.

"Are you asking me if my wife forced me to stop hanging out with my friends?" Harry squinted at the man.

"No, of course not, but..." He leaned closer with a malicious gleam in his eye, like he was about to hear some big secret. "Did she?"

"No," Harry said firmly. "She did not."

"Okay, okay, if you say so," Howard put his hands up, but then he leaned in again and spoke in an exaggerated whisper. "Blink twice if you need help."

Harry played it off with a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest.

"He's good," Howard laughed loudly. "Anyways, let's move on. Since you two are supposedly so happy-" He paused again, as if he expected Harry to cut it and give some dramatic confession about how terrible his relationship was behind closed doors. Harry only raised his eyebrows, signaling him to continue talking. "Tell us about that. When did you two get married again?"

"Almost 2 years ago," Harry said with a smile. "Our anniversary is coming up, actually, it's in 3 weeks."

"Oh wow, you guys moved fast with the whole kid thing, huh?"

Harry nodded. "We both knew we wanted kids and were ready to have them, so... yeah."

"Yeah, no point wasting time, right? How was Y/N after having the baby- Stevie, right?"

"Yeah, her name is Stevie," Harry smiled. "She was good. Again, she's amazing for going through that. She's- i'm just so lucky to have her."

"Did she bounce back right away?"

"I'm sorry?" Harry's brow furrowed.

"You know, did she get her figure back fast? I know that's a big issue for some women," He laughed again.

"Are you-" All traces of Harry's smile were gone now.

"I just mean, I hope she's working to get rid of the baby weight," Howard said casually, as if his words weren't extremely rude. "Just to make sure she can fit into her old clothes!"

Harry cleared his throat. He knew he had to speak very carefully, since this was something you had been very self conscious about. "Well, the two of us are concerned with the new life she brought into the world, not some old clothes, but she looks as beautiful as ever. The amount of pressure women face to live up to certain standards is disgusting to me, and it's especially bad for new mothers. My wife just went through an incredible process, she grew an entire human being in 9 months, then went through labor and the delivery, and she's being told to worry about her figure? That's wrong."

"Right, right, of course," Howard smiled, but Harry could tell he was annoyed at how he couldn't be tricked into speaking badly about his wife.

"I'm really over the whole thing, honestly," Harry said. "And I'm not even the one going through it."

Howard laughed nervously, seeming to finally take the hint that Harry was uncomfortable and annoyed with the topic. "Let's talk about your latest movie, why don't we?"

Harry was closed off through the rest of the interview; anyone could see that. He laughed less, his arms stayed crossed, and his answers were short. He was professional, but it went no farther than that. There was no more playful joking or easy conversation, just Harry trying to get through the interview as fast as he could. When it finally came to a close after his final song, Harry couldn't pack up fast enough. He made sure to say a polite thanks and goodbye before he hurried out to his car.

He sighed deeply before picking up his phone to call you.

"Hi baby!" your happy voice came from the other end. That was good, he assumed that meant you hadn't listened to the interview yet.

"Hi love," he smiled, his mood already improving just from hearing your voice. "Did you listen to the interview?"

"I have been- I couldn't right at the beginning, Stevie was crying, but I caught the end. Why?"

"Why was she crying?" Harry ignored your question, instantly worrying about his baby.

"Sometimes babies cry for no reason, Harry. She's okay, I promise. Anyways, what's up with the interview?"

Harry sighed. "Just the normal for a Howard Stern interview- he asked some very personal and rude questions. Just prepare for that."

"What else is new?" You laughed. "Are you coming right home?"

"Yeah, unless you need anything?"

"Nope, I think I'm good. See you soon!"

"Love you, bye," Harry said, ending the call and starting the car to begin the drive home.

-----

"I'm home," Harry called, removing his coat as he walked in the door.

"We're in here," you responded, not moving from your spot on the couch where you were nursing Stevie.

Harry walked in, a small smile on his face as he looked at the two of you.

"Hi," He sighed, plopping down on the couch next to you.

"That bad, huh?" You asked, taking in his dejected tone.

He hummed in response, leaning his head on your shoulder. "Those interviews are... always something."

"Yeah, I only caught the end, but you sounded pretty upset. What did he say?"

"He just..." Harry shook his head. "I don't think you should listen to it."

You turned your head to look at him. "Why not?"

"He's just very rude and pushy, as always."

"Yeah, i figured, but I wanted to hear your songs," you argued with a small frown. "Did he say something really bad, or...?"

"He just makes some very impolite comments about you and our family."

"Oh," You nodded lightly. "I think I'll be okay, baby. I appreciate you trying to protect my feelings, but I'm used to it at this point, and I really couldn't care less about his opinion of me."

"Alright," he sighed. "If you're sure." He pulled out his phone, checking his email and going through some messages while you started the interview from the beginning. You could hear him grumbling under his breath and huffing every time Howard said something rude, but you ignored it, just laying a hand on his leg to calm him down.

By the time it was over, Harry was clearly not too happy. "I can't believe I went back on that show," he shook his head. "I'm never doing that again. I'm so sorry about what he said about you, I honestly should have just left-"

"It's okay," you cut him off with a smile. "Also, it was kind of hot to hear you get mad at him."

"Yeah?" He smiled back. "I thought I was very tame, actually. I wanted to say some other things, but I figured that wouldn't be a very good look for me."

"Right, but the way you attacked him but stayed professional... very hot," you laughed, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," He smiled, turning his head to kiss your cheek in return. "Is she done? I really need to hold her after the day I've had," He sighed dramatically, throwing his head back.

"I'm sure," you laughed, handing Stevie over to him and pulling your shirt back into place. "She's all yours."

"Hi baby," he cooed, holding her close to his chest. "I missed you so much."

Stevie yawned in response, cuddling into him.

"Oh, you missed me too?" He grinned. "See that? She missed me."

"She did," You agreed. "She was looking around when she heard your voice on the interview, she wanted to know where you were."

"I'm sorry," he pouted down at her. "I'll never go away again, and I'll never let the bad man be mean to you again."

"I don't think she's too upset about it, Harry," you laughed. "She is only 3 months old. She didn't exactly understand anything that went on."

"Excuse me," he said, looking very offended. "She may only be 3 months old, but she's very smart."

"Right, she's a genius baby, how could I forget?"

"I don't know," Harry shook his head at Stevie. "How could she forget how smart you are, hmm?"

Stevie yawned again, stretching her arms above her head.

"She's ready to take a nap," you said.

"Can I just hold her? I know it's not a good habit, to let her be held to sleep, but I don't want to put her down yet," Harry said, looking up with such pleading eyes, you couldn't possibly say no. Not like you would have said no anyways, but he didn't need to know that.

"Of course you can," you stood up, kissing his forehead before you turned away. "I'm gonna do the dishes, then we can watch something if you want."

"No, let me do those," he immediately protested.

"Harry, it's okay, I haven't done anything around the house since she was born-"

"And I'm not about to let you start now," he cut you off. "Come back here, please? Let's start that new show we were looking at the other night."

"Fine, but later I'm going to help you with the dishes."

"Fine," he smiled, agreeing with your compromise, even though you both knew he would argue later. "Now come back here."

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader fanfiction #harry styles/reader fanfiction #harrystylesxyou #harry styles x you fanfiction #harrystylesxreader #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles/you fanfiction #dad!harry #stevie #stevie fics

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leviiattacks · 3 years

Note

Hi, you're a very talented writer and your works are very beautiful. Can I request one where Levi's fem s/o does the ignore your boyfriend prank? Thank you so much and take care of yourself ❤️

author note :: thank youuu i’m glad you think that anon !! this isn’t good at all bc i’m just very sick and yeah,,, i’m sorry if this doesn’t live up to your expectations but i needed something to do and ended up finishing this. hmmm what is this is it fluff?? idk it’s captain levi and survey corps member reader though :-) requests are open so feel free to drop by if you’d like :D word count :: 3.4k

you should NOT be bothering levi as much as you are because he understands you need your own space to relax sometimes

but come on... you’ve been ignoring him for an unreasonable amount of time now??

and he’s not talking about groggy ignoring, it’s not the type you do when you’ve just awoken from a restless night’s sleep

no. you’re talking to everyone apart from him.

and it’s driving him up a literal wall

did he do something wrong???

has he made a mistake so large that you’re too scared to bring it up???

are you finally sick of him??

will you break up with him?

levi winces when thinking of that specific question

but he’s the type to silently keep his worries to himself as soon as he sees any indication of a bad omen

currently, he’s mentally preparing himself for you to break the news to him any day now

but little does he know you’ve just pulled a prank hoping for him to whine and complain a little

the point of this all is to elicit an out of character reaction

;-)

the idea came from historia at first

her playing such a foul trick on ymir didn’t go unnoticed and little by little ymir’s resolve crumbled away throughout the day

she went quite literally ballistic trying to get historia’s attention

and watching it all play out made you want to try it out with levi

you’d be a FOOL not to

WELL!!!! the fun part about this is that you’re a bit actually, no. a lot, more stubborn than historia!!!

and instead of committing to the prank for a day you’ve chosen to see how far you can stretch this out

if you have to drag it out for two days so be it

you have good reason to

levi isn’t the most affectionate man, your relationship is kept a total secret from all of the cadets

meaning pda never happens

and,,, listen you would love to kiss him before expeditions without having to drag him behind your horse for cover

to be frank the back of a horse does smell rather unpleasant and it’s not as romantic as you’d like for it to be

honestly you’d rather have everyone stare and gawk in awe watching the two of you make out

seeing them put two and two together realizing what it is that’s going on between you and the captain would be hilarious

especially since reiner said last week he could never picture levi dating anyone

AND!! he even had the audacity to say he thinks someone like him would never date someone on the team

is it really not that obvious to them?

do you and levi lack chemistry?

silently fuming you walk away and even then none of the cadets get the hint

but you do think mikasa has known for a while. her senses are sharp and whenever she sees you and levi together she makes a u-turn heading in the opposite direction away from the both of you

but even if she does she isn’t going to tell anyone about it unless she’s directly asked so it’s not like the cat will be out of the bag any time soon

it’s silly getting worked up over reiner’s comments but it’s kinda disheartening having the relationship be kept a secret

and you thought even if it was there would be at least a hint of a rumour, like it should be decently obvious it’s been months since the two of you began to see each other

ESSENTIALLY, this is your plan to “accidentally” let the cadets figure it out

eventually levi will have to get restless enough to do something bold

that’s what you think will happen

but then the reality of the situation hits you at the end of the first day

he seems to be dealing with it just fine ?????

after giving him the cold shoulder he shows no signs of returning at all

...

WHY IS IT NOT WORKING???

mayday mayday mayday....?!??

red alert....?!??

you are about to bang your head against a wall he’s the one who’s meant to be suffering over this not you

but again, you’re stubborn and won’t give in easily

by the end of day one levi has approached you two times

two...

each time you’ve given him completely blunt responses

it’s frustrating you that he’s just dealing with it as it comes

and when he does speak to you it’s not to ask what’s wrong

the first time he approaches you is to ask if you’ve seen petra around which makes your blood boil a little because everyone knows petra has a big, fat, MASSIVE crush on him

you know he won’t ever reciprocate or anything for a number of reasons but you can’t help but feel annoyed

the second time he speaks to you is to ask if you’re willing to help hange out with some paperwork

??????

he doesn’t even look interested in asking you what’s wrong

honestly you would drop this plan but you’re in too deep now

may as well keep it up.

the second day rolls around and it’s not your best day

you burn breakfast

trip over a broom and hit your leg rather hard against the dining table

spill an ENTIRE cup of tea over hange’s important documents

and you haven’t slept a wink after overthinking your relationship status for hours on end

maybe this prank wasn’t a great idea

you’re hunched over the documents close to tears not knowing how you can save them now

there’s nothing you can do and even though you know hange will be okay with it, (they’ve never cared much for paperwork) you just don’t want to inconvenience them with this mess

“y/n?”

looking up you see eren standing by the doorway of the kitchen watching with a humored expression as you place paper towels over the disaster you’ve created

“captain’s looking for you.”

perking up a little internally you make sure to remain as disinterested as possible on the surface

“what does he need?”

“i don’t know he didn’t say.”

“tell him i’m busy.”

and that’s all that occurs during day two

you pass by levi and occasionally his gaze flicks to you but he doesn’t take any action to address you in public or in private

you end up going to bed even more disappointed than you were the first night

the prank definitely isn’t going the way you want and instead of it leading to levi cornering you in front of everyone and dipping you into a dreamy swoon worthy kiss it’s led to you developing doubts.

many doubts.

but you aren’t giving up any time soon, now more than ever you want to be reassured levi even wants this relationship because he’s not acting like it

it’s admittedly a bitch move on your part for pulling this prank in the first place but you expected him to ask how you were doing it has been forty-eight hours after all

if the roles were reversed you’d force him into a room until he would tell you

so you can’t explain his weird behaviour at all

maybe he doesn’t like you as much as you think

that thought makes your eyes sting at the corners

he’s always been reserved and a little lost when it comes to opening up but you’re beginning to lose hope if he finds it this hard to ask if you’re okay

drifting off to sleep before you can wallow in your thoughts any more you wish tomorrow is better

it’s the third day and to say you’re exhausted is an understatement

midday and you’re training in the sweltering heat

the lack of sleep you’ve had recently paired with your stress isn’t doing you any good

a little dizzy you attempt to hold onto a nearby tree for stability but end up somehow missing the mark by a MILE??

tumbling to the floor painfully you hiss at the collision and rub the back of your head which is now sore

footsteps approach you in a hurry and for the first time in days you’re face to face with levi

“you okay?” concern is very much evident in his voice and that eases your nerves

without you even responding he’s turning you around just to check in case

nodding wordlessly you try to get to your feet when you feel a shift.

your ankle without warning gives out on you and you’re sent crashing back down to the ground

closing your eyes and bracing for impact you’re pleasantly surprised when levi catches you by the waist

your weight is leaning onto him and you’re looking down to the floor

hange is yelling from across the courtyard telling levi to drop you off at the infirmary but he doesn’t need to be told that

his instincts do the talking for him and he’s already slung you over his shoulder and begins carrying you towards the base

“levi. put. me. down. this position’s embarrassing.”

he doesn’t respond and you can hear sasha and connie cackling at the compromising situation

swatting his back you’re huffing and puffing yet he’s still ignoring you

you’re being given the silent treatment but you suppose you do deserve it

sighing you deal with the stares you receive on the way there

this is levi and at this point nothing is seen as abnormal when he does it

you can’t really look behind you to see levi’s expression either but when a cadet walks past and mouths “y/n, what the hell did you do??” you know you’re in for it

eventually he reaches the infirmary and without even letting you get a word in he plops you onto the bed albeit a little rough

“what’s with the cold shoulder?” he places both his arms by your sides leaving you trapped

“i-”

“if you want to break up you can just say that instead of beating around the bush.”

you’re stunned by the harsh tone of his voice, he doesn’t have his usual soft timbre and your eyes glaze over in defense

“you want to break up?” your question hangs in the air

chewing at your lip anxiously you know if you bite any harder you’ll draw blood

“i don’t care. if that’s what you want, sure.”

oh.

oh no.

this isn’t going how you planned

nails digging into the flesh of your palms you hang your head low

he doesn’t care at all

if that’s what you want????? really???? that’s his response??? he won’t even fight for you???

it’s silent as he bandages your ankle and you’re burning in a mix of embarrassment and fury.

“i was just pull-” choking up in the middle of your sentence you feel yourself automatically frown

“i was just pulling a prank on you. you know how historia did with ym-“

really you’ve always been terrible at holding back your tears and a few spill over the edge and you sob

why are you like this why why why why why?????

yeah,, you get why everyone calls you overly emotional from time to time but really you swear you feel your heart shatter a little at how levi’s acting

shielding your eyes with your sleeve you cower away from him

lord have mercy.

levi wants to curl up into a ball and die from the wave of embarrassment that hits him

a prank.

a trick.

and he didn’t catch on.

and now you’re crying.

because he thought acting tough and cold in case you wanted to break up with him made perfectly logical sense???

spoiler : it didn’t make any sense...

but now it’s made him look like he hates you??

but he doesn’t hate you

no, no, no. not at all.

he could never hate you.

you’re always willing to help anyone out, you’re genuine, always say sorry even when you don’t need to, unapologetically yourself at any moment, you’re fearful yet push it all aside to be courageous and most of all he loves your little hobbies because who in their right mind actually enjoys gardening??

he’s convinced people who say they like gardening are looking for something unique to make themselves stand out but really you enjoy it and it’s quite cute

ok, ok no more getting side tracked whilst talking about your love for plants

he could name so much more he admires about you but he’d be here all day

“i tried to talk to you yesterday but after you refused i thought you hated me and wanted to break up. that’s why i was acting like that just now.” he slowly tries to explain his point to you

“i know i’m hard to love so when you began to ignore me out of the blue i figured you didn’t want to-”

cutting him off without giving him the option of finishing his sentence you’re wide eyed in horror. he was NOT meant to interpret the prank this way.

“levi?? for as long as i’m alive i’ll never get tired of you. i promise.” his heart rate shoots and the intense magnetism between the two of you becomes stronger by the second

you pause for a second gathering yourself.

“and i’m sorry i should’ve thought about how you’d feel. the reason i did it was stupid.”

levi kneels by the bed and takes your hand in his, he graciously lifts the sleeve of your uniform and ducks down to press a soft kiss onto your wrist.

your heart flutters seeing him be so careful and gentle with you and bashfully you look away

guilt overwhelms you at that moment because you really are horrible for putting him through all of that.

levi cares for you he does

he may be silent about it and not the best at being public with it but you know how he feels.

you feel it in the way he looks at you

you feel it when he helps you mount your horse

you feel it when he double checks your harnesses before expeditions

you feel it when he tends to your injuries

and, you definitely feel it right now when it sinks in that he was acting like he hated you just so you wouldn’t feel bad if you really did want to break up with him.

he’s always been bad at picking up on hints and cues so you now understand why he interpreted it as you wanting nothing to do with him

of course he wouldn’t ask how you were if it looked like you wanted to skin him alive

“what was the reason for the prank?” he inquisitively asks genuinely wanting to know what it is he can do for you

“i...” you’re wandering off and suddenly don’t want to tell him

“i wanted you to kiss me.” you whisper in a rush

he cocks an eyebrow up even more lost. “i kiss you all the time?”

“i mean, in front of everyone else.”

he blinks and his mouth forms into an “O” shape

it’s a little awkward now

he doesn’t bring it up again so you assume he doesn’t like the idea of letting everyone know just yet

and that’s okay!! you respect that!!

after all, you can’t get mad at him for it, it’s the best choice.

you don’t want people to accuse him of having bias towards you and it’ll probably upset petra and hinder her performance if her crush just suddenly starts dating out of nowhere

your gaze is back on levi and he’s now double checking the bandage on your ankle after tending to it

“you can’t walk for a few weeks.” he tsks

“be careful next time.” he’s always been blunt when he does show he cares and you warmly smile after not talking to him in days.

you feel the need to apologize again

“to make it clear i really am sorry, i should have thought more about you.”

he scoffs and rolls his eyes

“i’m overjoyed that my beautiful girlfriend doesn’t want to break up with me. now, stop moping around about it i’m over it.”

he scoops you up effortlessly and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“y/n, for the record, i’ll work on not jumping to the worst case scenario first.”

you love this aspect of your relationship

being able to understand how your flaws impact the other and choosing to make changes or adjustments

it’s sweet and you must be smiling like an idiot when thinking of it because levi blows a puff of air onto your forehead knocking you out of your daydream

feeling a little less light headed than before you notice he’s walking back out towards the courtyard

why is he doing that...?

“you’re walking in the wrong direction?”

“no i’m not.” he replies with a smug grin

oh my god

no he isn’t

oh my god

is he???

you’re bright pink in the face as you turn to look at him panicking when you hear hange’s group returning

eren can be heard arguing with jean as per usual and now you’re smacking levi’s chest even harder

“you don’t have to do this no, no, no. it’s okay really.” it’s funny how you’re begging him not to do what you’ve been waiting on for three days

but you really don’t want him to feel like he has to do this

as if he’s read your mind he replies. “i’m doing this with my own free will.”

he gives you one last grin and pushes you up against the wall, your back is against the cold yet solid surface and you tense up

oh god. it’s happening he’s diving down and it’s as if everything is moving in slow motion.

gradually you feel the familiar feeling of your heart jumping out of your chest

both of your lips mould together, he’s hoisting you up again preventing you from slipping away. hungry hands grip at your thighs and a knowing smile twitches across his mouth.

nipping at his bottom lip he groans and you nearly forget why it is he’s kissing you

that is until you hear a SCREAM from your right

“eren what the fuck are you yelling at?” jean’s voice can be heard scowling in the distance but you’re too distracted by levi’s mouth to care

eren must be speechless because nothing is heard until jean reaches the scene

“OH. MY. GOD.”

“WHERE IS REINER??? HE’S NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS.”

“you’re both overreacting.” mikasa makes her appearance and you’re not sure if she’s seen you and levi yet because your eyes fluttered shut long ago

“Y/N AND THE CAPTAIN????? WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE MIKASA??” eren’s voice sounds so distressed you guess you’re right for assuming he may have had a crush on you at some point

“it was obvious, i don’t know how no one else knew.”

finally levi pulls away and you’re panting practically gasping for any traces of air

“what you looking at brats?” levi snaps in their direction and mikasa nonchalantly shrugs and walks away

jean and eren however, dash away at LIGHTENING speed probably on their way to let everyone else know of the shocking new development

levi pecks your forehead and you nudge your nose against his.

since that day you and levi have been able to get away with a lot more pda

you can hold his hand and stare at how pretty your hands look laced together

you can nuzzle your face into his neck without any questions

you can loop arms with him and even if he acts like he doesn’t enjoy it he genuinely does like walking around with you latching onto his bicep

although he still prefers the privacy of his office he’s more than happy to give in once in a while

and at the end of the day you’re ecstatic because there’s no more kissing behind your horse!!!

GONE ARE THOSE DAYS

wooHOO

honestly, you’re over the moon about it

and so is levi

:-)

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rosewater-chlxe · 4 years

Text

pumpkin | colby brock

✖ Summary: While taking a trip to Rosehill Cemetery for one Colby’s videos, you both become a little too distracted to realize the dangers surrounding you.

✖ genre ; fluff, comfort, the tiniest bit of angst

✖ warnings ; slight mention of smut, reader w/ anxiety, mention of rituals

✖ requested - yes | no

anon asked: Hi love ! I saw that you take requests for colby again and I sent a request a while back asking if you could write one where he and his gf wanted to film a video but they start to make out super randomly and have to film the whole video again and now I am wondering if you could write it ?

a/n: i’m so terribly sorry for the wait; i hope you like it my lovely!! stay hydrated, take care of yourself, n make sure to rest!! ily <3

✖ masterlist

The setting was quite bizarre for the feelings you felt so deeply and beautifully in your heart; you were completely, utterly mesmerized by the boy standing beside you. You walked in this dark, melancholic place with your fingers intertwined; both his and your hands interlocked. He carried a backpack of filming equipment, drinks, snacks, and band-aids; you carried a separate bag of blankets and pillows. Ghosts and ghouls were rumored to be in this grey, brooding place; even dangerous rituals have taken place here: Rosehill Cemetery.

“Where do you wanna film the intro? I was thinking next to the Mortuary,” Colby said, “If you’re still comfortable and down for this, that is.”

“Of course I am!! Maybe a little nervous, but there’s no turning back now,” You replied, feeling a cold chill go down your spine at the thought of anything going wrong.

“Then the Mortuary it is,” He said with a grin that contained a hint of rebellion and mischief in it.

As the violet-haired boy filmed the intro to his video, you admired his every feature and each mannerism. The way he talked while swaying his hands and hips; the dimples slightly showing through his cheeks, the motions of his jawline. The angelic, ethereal man that stood before you made you weak to your knees; it was hard to count every breath he took from your lungs.

You were so in awe that you couldn’t hear the pet names said to get your attention, until finally he said your name.

“Y/N? You alright?” He questioned with a slight smile, catching your wandering eyes.

“Perfect.” You replied with a soft smile as he looked you up and down.

You both ended up heading to the biggest honorary statue nearby, to not only take a thumbnail but also to explore more of the graveyard. As you quietly stumbled down the gravel path with Colby, hand in hand, he made witty comments to the camera whilst paying close attention to your surroundings. This if the first kind of video of Colby’s that you’ve joined; you’ve always been eager to do something like this, though you know it can get risky and dangerous. That’s exactly why he held it off for so long, he never wanted to put you in any kind of uncomfortable or tense situations. The dyed-haired boy leading you has always been the utmost respectful and kind human being you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

The amount of pure infatuation and love you held for him came without hesitance or thought; no number could label what you felt, no word could describe what happened in you when you simply glance at him. The electric blue butterflies swarming through your heart and the rosewater in your veins never faded, only growing more and more intense each waking second. Before him, it was as if your world could only be seen in light grey and shades of blue; now everything is built with much higher saturation.

You knew not of what may happen in the future, but you knew you seen him in every upcoming chapter.

“Excited?” Colby asked, grinning at you as he looked back at you.

“Very; and a little scared, not gonna lie,” you replied with a light, friendly laugh.

“It’ll all be fine, if anything were to happen you know we can just go home,” he reassured you with a sly wink.

You nodded with a giddy smile, trying your best to look away from him. He could always make you feel like you’re on top of the world even with the smallest of interactions - that absolute bastard. You rolled your eyes as you realized just how much you’ve truly fallen for him.

You skipped in front of him and stopped him from walking ahead, smirking at him while he looked at you questioningly and suspiciously.

“What’re you up to, rascal?” He asked, knowing of your mischievous tendencies in the past.

“Now why do you always assume the worst from me?” you laughed as you started to trace a fingertip along his jawline, then to his neck; you felt him swallow as if he felt nervous, though you knew it wasn’t nervousness making him eager. Soon enough your fingertip made it’s way down to his chest, then to the bottom half of his black button down shirt. You let out a light laugh as you teased, completely removing your hand from his torso entirely.

Colby scoffed and quickly ran his ring-clad fingers up to your throat, his hand then forming a light grip across your jaw.

“Wanna think about teasing me again, princess?” He asked with a now lower toned voice.

You sweetly smiled at his intimidating exterior and leaned in to kiss him, in which he happily obliged.

You felt his soft, light pink-tinted lips against your own and the rest of your face grew numb. Your body became weak, and your legs tightly squeeze together as you felt the grip on your throat roughen. His tongue darted against your bottom lip, making you let out a sweet, soft sound. Within a few seconds, your hands started wandering beneath his slightly unbuttoned shirt; though as soon as your hand drifted lower, Colby almost immediately pulled away.

You were snapped out of your lovesick state as his facial features grew concerned; the only thing you seen at the statue you were a few feet away from was the illumination of candlelight and light chanting.

“Down,” He whispered, gently grabbing your shoulder and taking you to crouch with him. He placed a finger over his mouth, creating a silent “sh,” sound as he watched what was happening.

“Colby,” you whispered, “What’re they doing? Who are they?” you began to panic.

“Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay, just make sure you stay with me and do as I say,” he calmly whispered while making the softest direct eye contact with you.

He knew you have always had the worst anxiety and one of his top priorities are making sure that anxiety is calmed; that you’re taken care of. He always tries his best to keep you comfortable in every setting, that became much more evident rather than subtle when you told him about your anxiety. He very much understood what you went through and knew that you could help each other through your anxiety issues. Situations like this was something he never wanted you to experience.

“Who’s there?” a man in black attire yelled from the statue, looking in your direction. The chanting stopped.

Colby had a look of shock across his face, then sudden terror as he seen something near the statue that you didn’t; as soon as he gasped, the next thing you knew was running the opposite direction with him.

“We gotta get the fuck out of here,” Colby loudly spoke right next to you as you ran; he made sure never to let go of your hand.

“What did you see?” you yelled in response, trying to keep up with him when it came down to every single breath.

Colby didn’t respond, but he glanced back to see six masked silhouettes in the far distance; they did not run, they walked in unison.

At this point of running for what felt like decades though it had only been an estimated 45 minutes, you could see what looked like the parking lot close ahead. You had tears in your eyes that just wouldn’t drop; your throat felt like it was closing more and more within each passing second.

You and Colby finally made it to his car and looked back for anyone near you. No one else was to be seen. You jumped in and slammed the door, Colby then locking the car and doing nothing less than booking it.

He quickly pulled out of the parking lot and started going far faster than he should have. You seen him glance towards you in concern, making sure you were safe. His fingertips tapped on the steering wheel due to anxiousness.

“Colby, breathe, you’ve got me,” you reassuringly said to him with a small smile, though your voice came out with cracks and whines.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, this was such a bad idea,” he said to you in response, placing his right hand on your thigh whilst he continued driving.

“I’ll be fine as soon as we get home, please just relax for me?” you asked sweetly.

He nodded, his muscles untensing and his jaw unclenching.

“What can I do to make this up to you, sweetheart?” he asked, feeling incredibly guilty for the situation he put you in.

“You have nothing to make up to me love, but if we’re being honest the footage wouldn’t have been used anyway,” you said causing both of you to let out a light laugh, “so we could film another video tonight instead. A more laid-back one? Perhaps making a Halloween cake?” you excitedly smiled.

“Anything for you, baby,” he sighed with relief, “but we have to watch horror movies tonight and I don’t make the rules, you gotta cuddle me,” Colby demanded.

“Most definitely, pumpkin,” you replied lovingly.

- fin.

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

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le deux, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: One rebel from the waist down plus Jeon Jungkook in a sleeveless tee equals two in the back of a car, fucking like animals as Jungkook takes pictures of it all on your phone. Per your request, of course.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smut (fem reader, semi-public (car) sex, photography/filming of sex, m-receiving oral, cowgirl); non-idol!BTS; reader has a dimple and Jungkook’s inner monologue is basically in love with it; PWP? you decide happy jungkook day! :D 2021.01.09

–

Jeon Jungkook thought he knew what he was getting into, but he sure as hell didn’t.

When he stepped through the gate, he thought, damn, it’s awesome that so many girls decided to wear such skimpy clothes to a rock concert. He figured he’d see some bouncing titty, flashes of ass, maybe the loss of some underwear because the lead singer was hot as hell. Dude was ripped and tattooed like nobody’s business. Dream body for Jungkook, to be honest.

If only his mom would let him get that many tattoos.

The right sleeve was already pushing it though. He’d have to ease her into it slowly.

Jungkook had gone alone, because his friends weren’t really into rock the way he was, but that was fine with him. He liked being able to enjoy himself without thinking too much about other’s opinions, even if they were his friends. Got to wear a sleeveless band shirt, tight black jeans, left his long black hair in a half-ponytail, and decorated his wrists with silver bracelets. He would have been more covered up if he was with his friends – didn’t want to make them jealous with all the stares he was getting with his tattooed right arm, after all.

And my body in general, he thought amusedly.

If he was younger, Jungkook would have been shyer about leaving himself so exposed like this, but he wasn’t, so instead he merely gave the stares a cocky smirk.

What was the point of working out if he couldn’t show it off a little?

He spied his seat and noticed there wasn’t anyone sitting right next to him yet. Odd. He had purchased relatively close seat and the concert was sold out. Hm. Well, maybe he should get some beer before it started.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her.

She was dressed like every other girl at the concert; smokey eyes, dark lips, black choker, shredded black crop top with an equally short fishnet shirt under it, pleated black miniskirt with silver buttons. A black strap over her chest. Knee-high black boots with buckles running all the way up her calf. Bare thighs and naked waist on display. Nice.

But that wasn’t why he paused.

He paused because she had a tattoo.

A single tattoo of black script around her waist. Her body was facing him, tilting her head at her phone, then looking down at the floor, at the seat row numbers. The tattoo was in English and Jungkook could read, a rebel. She turned, facing her left, and looked up, counting the stairs. He realized the black strap connected to a clear waist bag that she was wearing on her back. She twisted a little so he got a good view of her back, the part where it trimmed down to the curve of her round, perky ass.

from the waist down.

Holy shit.

She had a rebel from the waist down tattooed around her midriff.

His eyebrows rose so far up into his forehead in shock that he didn’t even realize she was crawling over the people to her seat. She had black, pointed nails and silver chains draped over the back of her hands. A charming smirk, dimple flashing as she apologized for bumping into people. None of them seemed to mind, probably because her skirt was flipping up and revealing the strappy black velvet panties she was wearing. She seemed not to notice.

She plopped herself into her seat and grinned, checking her phone again. She had a black case with a nine-pointed star on it. Held her phone up and took a selfie with that killer smile, her tongue between her lips.

With a start, Jungkook realized she was sitting in his seat.

“Hey, you’re sitting in my seat.”

She sat up and looked around, counting down the row. “Aw shit, you’re right. Sorry.”

She got up and flopped into the seat next to him. Jungkook sat down, careful with his beer and water bottle. The chair was still warm from her body heat. That would have bothered him if he wasn’t staring at her open legs. She sat unapologetically, man-spreading in her seat, thighs laid out like a five-star buffet.

If she asked, Jungkook would gladly partake in said buffet.

Her hands were holding her phone and she tucked her tongue in between her teeth as she typed furiously, nails clacking against the glass, lowering the phone to her lap. A long text exchange was visible on the screen.

“Argument?” Jungkook pondered out loud.

She chuckled darkly. “More like, ‘I ain’t sitting on your dick for any amount of money, you piece of shit, leave me alone.’ You think men could get the fucking hint.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow even though she wasn’t looking at him. “Block him?”

She scratched her chin, sending the message. “I would, but if I do, my parents are going to have a fit. They’re trying to set me up with him.”

The show was almost starting. He could hear the instruments warming up.

“What are you gonna do about it?”

She raised her head and grinned at him. Her right dimple winked at him with her smirk. Damn. Jungkook loved dimples.

“Me? The same thing as I always do. Find someone to fuck and send him pictures.”

So that’s why Jeon Jungkook was in the back of this random woman’s car, gasping as he was getting the best head of his life.

And struggling to take a picture of it.

“Holy shit,” he hissed, one of his hands hitting the glass of the car window as she took him deeper, tongue running underneath the length, hips swaying, her waist tattoo clearly in his vision. a rebel from the waist down. She had told him her name earlier, maybe when they were making out in the concert seats halfway through the show, maybe when they were practically dry humping each other by the end of the concert. Not the way Jungkook thought he was ending this particular event and he would probably buy another ticket so he could actually listen to the songs properly.

The head of his cock was jammed in the back of her throat, continually being squeezed by her tight, wet vice.

Jungkook wasn’t complaining though, if you get his drift.

Her eyes flickered up and she smirked around his cock, right dimple appearing as her tongue slid out from her plump lips and curled around the base.

Jungkook snapped a photo.

“Fuck, that’s sexy,” he mumbled, turning the screen around to show her. She chuckled low in her throat, vibrating the head of his cock. Rutted him a few more times, making him moan at the euphoric sensation.

She removed her mouth and he almost whimpered, but she was speaking and he was listening, staring at her dimple and glistening pink lips.

“You’re good at taking pictures, Jungkook,” she murmured. “Get one of me on your balls.”

She lowered her head, lifting his cock. Black nails, silver chains, and long fingers wrapping around his stiff length, lifting his wet cock and placing her tongue onto his balls. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. Fuck, he had never felt a better tongue, swiping back and forth, getting the full expanse of his balls as her other hand came up to smush them against her lips. He sucked in a breath and spread his thighs more, seeing saliva drip down, hitting the black towel she had spread out in her backseat.

Evidently, she had planned this shit.

Jungkook lifted her phone and pressed the circular button.

Her eyes flickered up at him again, smirk on display, tongue fully extended and smacking his balls back and forth, jiggling them with the wet pink tip. Hand firmly gripping his cock. The moans coming out of him could rival the best porn out there. His chest was shuddering, his sleeveless shirt forgotten and crumpled in her front passenger’s seat – he couldn’t really remember how it got there to be honest – and his pants were balled up around his knees, making this somewhat uncomfortable but also hot as hell.

Jungkook snuck a glance at her phone and realized he was taking a fucking video the entire time instead of a photo. Shit. He furrowed his brows and stopped it, switching back to photo mode, and took a picture the second she swallowed one of his balls in her mouth.

“Fuck!”

He nearly dropped the phone on her face as she sucked, eyes sparkling with mirth, doing some kind of crazy figure-eight maneuver with her tongue as he lowered his hand, gasping for breath as she pulled her head back and forth, jerking him slowly at the same time.

“I… might have taken a video,” Jungkook panted out, head tipping back and staring at the ceiling of her car as she switched sides, sucking harder and tonguing more intensely, back and forth, up and down, so wet he was losing his mind.

She hummed onto his fucking nuts and he almost exploded into her hand.

His hips rose involuntarily and the base of his cock smacked her in the nose. She had the audacity to laugh, releasing his balls, spit dripping down her chin. She cleaned it off with her forearm, also letting go of his cock.

“Let me see,” she chuckled, wiping her hand on the towel before grabbing her phone from him. Replayed the video. His own moans filled the car, far too fucking loud. Jungkook’s cheeks heated with embarrassment as she planted her warm, clothed pussy onto his naked thigh, bouncing on it as she gleefully watched herself making out with his balls.

“Nice. I like it,” she chuckled.

“You’re crazy,” Jungkook snickered. And she was, but this was also fun too.

The dimple came back. “Want me to sit on your cock?”

Fuck yeah, he did. “Least you can do for me, since I provided such excellent service.”

She lifted her hips from his thigh and handed him her phone back. Took the two sides of her strappy velvet panties and pulled down. His eyes widened seeing the long string of juices from the black velvet to her crotch, snapping against her thigh, the strong scent of arousal so apparent it suddenly dominated all others.

“Someone is gonna see you,” he breathed, seeing the reflection of her ass clearly in the window, in view of the vehicles around them. People were in their cars, waiting to leave. Maybe some of them were watching this crazy woman jumping on his dick. The thought made him smirk.

She reached over to the center of the car and pulled out a condom from the cup holder.

This woman was definitely insane and Jungkook was loving it.

She grinned back at him, ripping it open right in front of his face. Lowered her hands and rolled it down on his throbbing cock. He exhaled in satisfaction, watching her ass lower and slide her pussy to him, lifting her skirt so he could see. Clean shaven. Probably for the pictures. Damn. That was a pretty pussy, and she was soaking wet.

“You like me that much?” Jungkook teased.

She pressed the head against her glistening slit and placed her tongue in between her teeth, dimple reappearing.

“Fuck yeah. You’re hot as hell.”

He didn’t expect her to say that. His ears burned and his cock pulsed with need. He also didn’t expect her to shove his cock into her that roughly either, jerking her hips into his and pressing down. She chuckled at his breathless gasp, settling her thighs against his waist.

“Take a picture for me,” she purred. “Gonna show him how deep I can take your big cock, Jungkook.”

Did he have a big dick? He knew he was bigger than average for sure, but it wasn’t like he measured and compared sizes on the daily. Also, he tended to get bigger and harder the hornier he was and right now he was maximum aroused because her pussy was clenching around his dick, burying it all the way up to the tightest, deepest parts of her wet hole.

“You’re choking him,” Jungkook chuckled as she gave him a particularly tight squeeze. His cock throbbed in delight.

“Death by pussy can’t be that bad,” she teased. Her chain covered hand nudged his hand holding her phone. “Come on.”

He lifted the phone and she raised her skirt once again, letting him see. God, it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Should I take off my shirt?” she asked.

Jungkook made his dick jerk inside her and she moaned deliciously.

“Nah, he doesn’t deserve titties.”

She leaned back, pulling her skirt high and Jungkook took the shot of their joined thighs, her viscous juices shiny and smeared all over his crotch. Man, it had been a great idea to work out until he got that v-line. Matched perfectly with hers.

He turned it around and she bit her lip, grinning wide, dimple indented in her right cheek. Jungkook was beginning to become a fucking sucker for that dimple. He wanted to cause all kinds of trouble just to see it over and over.

“A rebel from the waist down, eh?”

The dimple stayed as she laughed.

“It’s a little bit of a lie,” she said mischievously as she began to roll her hips into his. “Because I’m definitely a rebel from the waist up too.” Her tongue extended, long, so fucking long and wet, almost touching past the midpoint of her chin.

Goddamn, Jungkook was glad he attended this concert.

She put it back into her mouth and began to fuck him hard, putting her back into it and smacking their hips together loudly, rocking the car a little, but at this point Jungkook was ready to go to jail for indecent exposure, head thrown back in her backseat, groaning as he felt her squeeze him with every descent, so wet that he felt like he was going to slip out while also feeling every contour of her pussy clamping down on him. He placed her phone on the seat and grabbed her thighs, sinking his fingers into her softness, drunk on the feeling, moaning her name as she used him like her favorite dildo.

“Ah, Jungkook,” she panted, smirk still on her lips. “You have a great cock. Glad I picked you.”

His eyes lowered, watching her through his lashes, seeing her smug expression. “I’m honored.”

She snickered. “Pretty face, hot body. Down to fuck.” That dimple. “I got lucky.”

Me too, he thought.

She placed her hands on his, sliding them up to her waist.

“Can you fuck me from below? Bet you’re great at it.”

He grinned and slammed his hips into her dripping heat. She moaned wantonly, grabbing his shoulders as he pounded her from below, feeling her clench and squirm, her walls spasming and juices leaking down his balls.

“A-ah, fuck,” he gasped, closing his eyes as he felt it. She must have orgasmed, but was too breathless to say as her nails dug into his shoulders, pushing her hips down as he jerked them up, meeting his thrusts over and over.

“Fuck, you’re so strong,” she breathed, pussy clenching again, splattering more onto his thighs, whole body shivering in his hands as she threw her head back, moaning his name. It sounded positively sinful from her lips and he loved it. The towel under them was soaked with bodily fluids and most of it was hers.

“Ugh, you feel so good,” Jungkook panted. “So fucking good when you cum for me, fuck, I thought girls couldn’t orgasm that easily on dick.”

She chuckled deep in her throat, bringing her head back and looking down at him, hair falling all around her shoulders, plump lower lip in her teeth. Fuck, her face was so fucking pretty.

Pretty fucking naughty too.

“Can’t speak for other girls, but I do love getting railed by a hot guy with a big cock,” she purred, licking her lips. “And you’re so hot you could spark a match.”

Was it possible to get harder because of a damn compliment? Because that was happening to Jeon Jungkook right now, his jaw clenching as he grinned, fucking her harder, deeper, bouncing her on his dick unashamedly, definitely catching someone’s attention out there because of how deliciously she was moaning for him, telling him how good it felt as her pussy violently massaged his entire length.

“Yes, yes, ah, Jungkook, your cock is so fucking good…”

It was getting to his head, shooting down to his spine, coiling tighter and tighter, smashing his hips into her tight, wet hole, every muscle on fire and vibrating with pleasure, her name falling from his lips repeatedly, feeling so good doing something so bad, pleasure so intense he barely heard someone honk their car horn cheerfully at their fucking.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum, fuck!”

He shot into the condom with a fierce jerk, filling it completely as she gasped, pussy tightening and throbbing around him as his crotch was soaked again, exhaling hotly into his face as she came with a shudder of his name, big smile on her lips.

Absolutely the best car sex Jungkook had ever had in his entire life.

She collapsed against him, pressing her hot cheek against his.

“I think someone honked at us,” she laughed, a little raspy from moaning so much.

Jungkook wrapped his hands around her waist, kneading it. “Cheering for me and my dick, I bet.”

She reached down and felt for her phone.

“You really gonna send him those pics?” Jungkook asked, panting from exertion.

“Do you not want me to?” Her tone had a hint of concern. “You’re in them too, so I won’t if you’re not down.”

He chuckled. “Just send him the one of you holding my dick and licking my balls.”

She held the condom down as she got off him, laughing. “Damn, how cruel. Showing off your big dick like that. You’re trouble, Jungkook.”

Jungkook looked over to his left. She sat down next to him, pressing her body close to his. Thigh against thigh, shoulder against shoulder. Dimple clearly visible because of her mischievous smirk. He leaned over and kissed it. He just had to. Her eyebrow raised, smirk turning into a pleased smile.

He grinned.

“That makes the two of us, doesn’t it?”

Her eyes darted around the rapidly vacating parking lot. Then they came back to his face, her lips curving into a grin to match his.

“Damn, I’m so lucky to have met you, Jeon Jungkook.”

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios

926 notes · View notes

thesolferino · 3 years

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⤷ note: apologies for losing your request, anon, but thank you for requesting! this is my first time writing a full fic in second person, so bear with me, and i hope this is what you were looking for <3

The Great American Bake Off

pairing: corpse husband x gn!reader

word count: 3.6k

genre: fluff

summary: you’ve been jealous of rae and her closeness with your boyfriend since the dawn of time, but things change and friendships are made once she comes over for one hell of a cooking video.

Corpse, among many other things, was a man many wished to have.

It’s the truth; even if he didn’t have a YouTube channel through which millions kept up with everything from horror stories to Among Us gameplays, people would still turn heads and whisper whenever he spoke - that attention more than multiplied when he started blowing up and his social media presence grew.

With growth come numbers, and there are always people behind said numbers. Through them, Corpse makes wonderful friends - through them, you had met him, too. All the way back, during his horror narration days, you had grown to like him - really, who wouldn’t?

A DM you once sent after a few drinks, when you claimed to your friends you’d get the “deep-voiced man of your dreams” you often talked about and they, in turn, challenged you to message him, was nothing short of a joke and the idea of him responding was merely a pipe dream. What you hadn’t expected, however, was a response, which wrecked your brain at noon the next day, where your head throbbed with embarrassment, guilt, pride, happiness, a melt of hatred and gratefulness for your friends, panic and the remains of alcohol that tugged at every part of your skull.

It had turned out to be more than a great idea, though, because for the next few weeks you were constantly talking. You learned so much more than he let on in videos, and during late night calls you found out everything from his favorite clothing brand to his favorite color to his thoughts about his own mortality and then back to his favorite cereal. Audio calls and short voice messages turned into hours long FaceTimes that led you from friends to something more. And after a year or so of dating, you packed your bags and made it to sunny San Diego, ready to lay in his arms and sweat bullets.

Safe to say Corpse’s social media presence had its good sides. However, with all good things come bad things too, and you weren’t sure if the bad things were bad at all or you were simply too jealous.

Corpse made wonderful friends thanks to his YouTube channel. He met people he could confide in, meet, people he could talk to about his worst problems, people who would listen - he met people he could have fun with, with who he could forget all about the real world and his own issues, and simply laugh his heart away, play games until the late hours of the night.

If he had to name his closest ones, they would have to be Dave, Loey, maybe Mykie, possibly Jack, and Rae. And that is exactly where the root of the problem stood.

Rae is beautiful, and everyone who denies it must be either dumb or blind. She’s drop dead gorgeous, and funny, and kind, and smart, in a way that made you want to rip your hair out. You wanted to hate her so bad, because the jealousy ate away at you like a damn disease, but you couldn’t, because she was perfect Rae, and as much as you hated the fact she seemed to be perfect inside out, you just couldn’t hate her as her. It was impossible, you concluded.

You convinced yourself you weren’t jealous every time you heard him yelling or laughing at her from his office room - or at least you attempted to do so. Your lunch would turn sour and end up forgotten because you’d be way too focused on listening in on what he was doing and trying to make out what she was saying to even eat at the same pace you previously were. Jealousy ate away at you, no matter if you admitted it to yourself or not.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Corpse, of course. On one late night when you couldn’t sleep and neither could he, as per usual, you turned on a random comedy that you half-heartedly paid attention to, his fingers combing through the knots in your hair peacefully and the slow pace of the movie lulling you to sleep slowly. That is, before his phone rang and lit the mostly dark room. You managed to sneak a glance at the notification before he had, and the familiar bitterness seeped between your ribs as always upon seeing the name displayed at the top of the message, more than awake now.

You visibly stiffened when he laughed at the message and typed something back, shifting your head in his lap as some subconscious attempt at getting him to pay attention to you instead. He put his phone down and you huffed, eyes locked on the TV screen as you pretended to be extremely absorbed in the movie even though you weren’t quite sure of the difference between the protagonist and antagonist anymore. His hands didn’t return to your hair, and that somehow made you even more annoyed.

“What’s up?” Corpse quietly spoke up, barely over the volume over the already quiet movie.

“Nothing.” You said, quicker than you wanted to, and you bit your tongue in cringe when you realised it was an awful lie. Corpse seemed to think the same.

“That’s bullshit. Seriously, what’s wrong?” He asked, and was met with pure silence. In reality, you were hoping he’d simply never realise you were somewhat jealous, because you knew you were being stupid and unreasonable, but you couldn’t help wanting him all to yourself. Admitting it out loud made it so much more real, and so much more embarrassing that you would rather bury yourself alive than admit to being jealous of Rae, of all people.

After a few seconds of silence, save the laughter of characters on screen, he spoke again.

“Are you jealous?” The hint of a teasing tone in his voice made you want to rip your hair out of your skull. Was it really that damn hard to believe that yes, you were jealous of an extremely close friend of his? Was it a crime?

The clenching of your jaw seemed to give Corpse enough of a response, and his hands returned to running themselves through your hair as he giggled to himself.

“What’s so damn funny?” You borderline spat, causing his movements to halt for a second before continuing with even louder laughter.

“I don’t know, just the idea of you being jealous of Rae is so funny. I’ve noticed the way you roll your eyes whenever I text her in front of you. You’re not exactly sneaky, you know?” His words made blood rush straight to your face, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. How long has he known this for?

“Sorry. I don’t…” you exhaled and attempted to smile. “I don’t know what’s up with me. I’m so jealous nowadays. I don’t even know why.”

“There’s enough of me to share with everyone, no worries baby.” he replied, teasing tone still yet to dissipate as you slap his knee in mock offense and he starts wheezing.

“Absolutely not! Fucking excuse you, I’m not sharing with anyone!” you gaped at him as he kept laughing.

That was the end of it - or at least Corpse thought so. Needless to say, he was wrong.

Your mood would instantly turn sour whenever he’d laugh at one of her messages, and you attempted to push down every eye roll whenever he’d sit on his phone, between your legs, back turned to you so you could see everything, and open Rae’s DMs again. Sometimes you managed, sometimes you couldn’t help it, but you did your best to do it whenever he wasn’t looking. Because you truly knew you were being unreasonable, especially whenever you have to relay situations like how he had to postpone a date one time because Rae asked him to play Rust for a bit longer and you almost ripped all your hair out of your skull in frustration back to your best friend who just turned Rae and Corpse into the villains in the situation because that’s what best friends are supposed to do.

Not like he was going out of his way to talk to her a concerning amount, they mostly talked in groupchats and on streams and that was only a few times weekly, but it did absolutely nothing to calm the green monster growing stronger in you every day, fed by every laugh she got out of him.

The green monster fucking loved it when Corpse excitedly announced to you that he’s finally meeting his friends for the first time, and by friends meaning Rae, Sykkuno and Karl. You, however… were far from impressed.

He paced around the room in excitement, a mix of obvious anxiety and joy evident on his face, and he fiddled with the strings of his hoodie with shaky hands as he very proudly announced that he would be the second tallest person in the room through a blinding, pearly grin, and seeing him so electrified couldn’t help but make you shut your jealous thoughts up, even if just for a little bit, and mirror his grin back to him.

What did, however, make you as anxious as him was when he announced they’d a) be coming to your shared apartment and b) making a cooking video - it sent you into a panicked mom mode as you dusted every corner of every room and vacuumed everything from the kitchen to the balcony and Corpse did nothing but record you as you anxiously rambled and laugh at you from his place on your bed.

When the dreaded Saturday finally came, and the first person to arrive, Sykkuno, rang your doorbell, you squeezed Corpse’s hand to stop him from nervously toying with his rings and opened the door, and you greeted the man like he was your own brother and not a person you’d seen probably a total of three times through the computer screen and someone who’s seen you maybe two times, from the pictures Corpse sent him, in your best attempt to make both of them more comfortable. It actually kind of worked - turns out Sykkuno is a pretty affectionate guy, too, and a conversation started as soon as he stepped in. Corpse gave you a look when you pulled away from Sykkuno’s half-hug, and you almost laughed out loud at the irony when his phone lit up with a notification from Rae announcing she was almost there at that exact moment.

She had kept true to her word; ten minutes or so later, another ring was heard and you gestured to Corpse to open it this time as you gave Sykkuno his cup of water and resisted any and every urge to roll your eyes or do something otherwise bitchy and stupid. Corpse did as told, and you watched them hug and listened to Rae squeal in excitement through the open door of the living room and decided to plaster a smile on your face for as long as you could muster before you remove yourself from the situation when they start filming.

Unfortunately for you, the first person she locked eyes with was exactly you, and they lit up an even prettier brown (if that was even possible) as she beelined to you and you barely got a greeting out before she engulfed you in a large hug, arms wrapping around your neck as she swayed both of you side to side.

“Oh my God, you must be Y/N! I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so nice to finally meet you!” Rae cheered into your ear before she finally pulled back, before shooting an infectious grin at you that you couldn’t help but return back.

“All good things, I hope.” you chuckled as she moved to greeting Sykkuno, and nodded her head with an enthusiastic giggle of her own. You eyed Corpse for a second who simply leaned against the door frame, watching the whole thing unfold with somewhat of a proud smile on his face, before Rae turned back to you and your attention was on her again.

“Of course! Corpse is very much a simp for you, you know that?” She said and both you and Corpse laughed, especially him, who nodded his head in agreement as she sat back down, still beaming at you.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that.” you respond before turning back to Corpse. “Where’s Karl at?”

“He’ll be here in half an hour or so, he only landed recently.” he said. You nodded and moved to sit on a nearby chair to leave space for the guests on the couch.

Karl ended up arriving in twenty minutes and apprised everyone of the information that “his taxi driver is a psycho that, apparently, doesn’t fear stop signs or the police” before setting up the camera in your kitchen and tried his best to attach lapel mics on everybody (admittedly, it took way longer than it should’ve, but he eventually managed and that counted as a win in his book). You reluctantly agreed to be the judge of the finished product when they’re done cooking, and Karl was there for the purposes of being a cameraman and making jokes off screen so he agreed too, albeit way more enthusiastically than you.

The two of you sat behind the camera as the three of them lined up, Corpse wearing a mask and his signature eyepatch (that he didn’t really need, but those two did their job in preserving his privacy) and introduced what they were doing. Corpse was obviously very anxious, hands fidgeting constantly and shivering like a dog after a bath despite the hoodie he was wearing in 100 degree weather because of the shower of sweat that was now drying on his body, and that was partly why you were there, supportive smiles, encouraging cheers and all.

They were making Mexican ground beef tacos, and despite knowing Corpse can barely make a sandwich without setting at least two dishes on fire, you still cheered him on proudly and repeated he was part Mexican himself roughly 5 times a minute, claiming he was going to kill it.

“Kill it? More like kill one of us- CORPSE watch what you’re doing with that fucking knife! You’re proving my point!” Rae yelled at him as he giggled in delight, watching the woman gape at him in pure horror and Sykkuno watch his movements completely entranced as he played with the knife in his hands.

“You’re just mad that he’s going to make tacos fifty times better than you.” you said to Rae, chewing down on some M&Ms that Karl and you shared (both of you decided on a genius plan - you’re going to eat the whole bag before they’re done with cooking so you can claim you’re full and therefore can’t eat the atrocity that will most likely be the tacos).

“Don’t gas me up like that, Y/N, you are well aware I’m shit at cooking. Expect absolutely nothing from me.” he replied over the sizzling of the meat on the pan, throwing a whole spoonful of chili powder into it, earning loud yelling and scolding from your side and loud laughter from Rae.

“HALF A TEASPOON! Half a teaspoon, how have you not remembered this already?! We’ve made tacos a million times now, oh my God, you’re actually stupid.” you yelled at him, arms flailing in the direction of the seasoning to emphasise your ‘half a teaspoon’ point as Rae doubled over in laughter and Sykkuno looked into the pan with a concerned and somewhat afraid look. Just as he peeked in, the overwhelming smell of chili powder started biting away at his eyes, and he jumped away with a yelp.

“Jesus, Corpse!” he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes with his forearm as the whole room burst into laughter and Corpse suspiciously inspected his beef.

“What were you saying about your ‘Mexican king’, Y/N?” Rae asked, pulling out a few tortillas and putting them on the table. You huffed, grabbing another handful of M&Ms.

“Giving him up to God. He’s the only one who can help, at this point.” you said. She giggled in response and Corpse let out some sort of protesting sound and waved his knife around in complaint. “I don’t know who this man is. He broke into my kitchen and now I’m here.”

“Hey, I pay half of your rent!” he said, and you were about to reply but Rae dropped her meat into a pan full of overheated oil, and a loud hiss and some sort of a scream overtook the room as a cloud of steam shot into the air and she frantically looked around for the wooden spoon so the meat wouldn’t stick to the pan. You simply sat and laughed, eating the candy like it was popcorn and you were watching a shitty cooking show - it wasn’t that far from reality, really.

“Um, I just realised I don’t make many tacos, actually.” she said as she helplessly stirred the meat, turning to you with pleading eyes. “What seasoning even goes into this? Y/N, will you help me? Let’s team up against Corpse!”

You tilted your head in thought, but before you could even speak, Corpse spoke up.

“That’s not fucking fair, that’s-that’s against the rules.” he turned to you. “You won’t betray me, right?”

You laughed at him, adjusting in your seat. “I gave up on you ever since you added, like, 3 kilos of seasoning into the meat for no reason.” then you turned to Rae. “Sure, let’s do it, babe.”

Their loud yelling immediately started mixing, Rae’s cheers contrasting Corpse’s protesting. She stuck her tongue out at him meanwhile Corpse shot her the middle finger, and she turned back to you with a grin.

“Alright, what do I put in?”

Roughly twenty unnecessary and extremely long minutes later, the tacos were done, two each for each of them. Rae’s looked the best - probably because you guided her through the whole thing - next to Sykkuno’s, whose you were genuinely intrigued to try. While Corpse was arguing with Rae, he burned roughly half of his already ruined beef, and Karl made the very nice observation that it looked like a bird shat in a tortilla, which you proclaimed as the highlight of the video.

Since you and Karl claimed you were full, the three of them simply swapped tacos between each other as to be unbiased, and the two of you watched in amused suspense. You were actually quite interested to see what the end results were - you were first anxious and quite annoyed you even had to participate in the first place, because it meant losing your mind from jealousy, watching Corpse and Rae giggle and act all domestic while cooking, but jealousy simply dissipated somewhere half through the video as you watched the three argue if cheddar cheese belonged on tacos or not and Rae laugh at every stupid joke you cracked. Now, you sat, fully immersed as you stared at Sykkuno’s face; the poor guy ended up with the misfortune of having to try Corpse’s taco first.

“Zoom in, zoom in!” you whispered into Karl’s ear who complied and zoomed into Sykkuno’s face. He bit into the taco, chewing for a second before his face twisted in disgust and you began wheezing when he grabbed a tissue and spit it out, immediately grabbing his glass of water. Rae laughed at him as well, mouth full of his one, which she claimed she actually liked but it wasn’t as good as the “Y/NRae-co” as she proudly called it. Corpse silently ate Rae’s taco and refused to give a review on it because he was upset he got defeated, but the fact that he scarfed down the whole thing in a minute or so was enough of a review.

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad.” Corpse exclaimed when he saw Sykkuno’s bite in the tissue, grabbing the second taco he made and biting down on it. The whole room burst into laughter when he roughly swallowed, tears obvious in the one eye that showed, because of the overly spicy beef.

“What are you motherfuckers laughing at? It’s not that bad, I stand by tacorpse.”

“Tacorpse is actually genius. The one good thing you came up with during the entirety of this video.” Rae said and Corpse mumbled a fuck you in response.

“Well, I think we can all agree that me and Y/N’s taco was clearly the best.” she said, clasping her hands together.

“I actually think mine was better.” Sykkuno said, to which she pushed his plate out of the frame.

“Nobody asked you anything.”

“Don’t bully Sykkuno, I’ll fucking kick you out.”

“Oh yeah? I’m pretty sure Y/N would kick you out before they’d let you kick me!” Rae said, accusingly pointing her taco in Corpse’s direction.

“Alright, let’s wrap up the video.” Karl laughed behind the camera, and the three of them all turned to properly face it and end the video.

“Thank you all so much for watching, this has been an… interesting video, to say the least. Uh, thank you to Karl for filming this whole disaster, thank you to Corpse,” Rae gestured in his direction, “for lending us his kitchen, thank you to Sykkuno for probably getting us more views on this video, and also a big thank you to Y/N, Corpse’s better half for making this video way more interesting and helping me make probably, like, the best taco I’ve ever made.” she grinned and you shoved a peace sign in front of the camera.

“If you liked this video, check out Sykkuno and Corpse’s channels, they will be linked down below, and please click like and subscribe to support the channel! Again, thank you all for watching, see you later, bye!” she finished, and with that, Karl turned the camera off.

Silence engulfed the room. You sighed.

“Alright, who’s gonna clean this shit up?”

#corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x you #corpse husband x female reader #corpse husband fanfic #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband fluff

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spacedikut · 3 years

Text

exam help ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: a self-indulgent blurb about spencer helping with exams :) 1.7k

a/n: first fic of the year :D happy 2021!

masterlist

Another anguish-filled screech reverberates from your and Spencer’s shared office, bringing even your pet fish in the tank to attention.

It’s the third one this hour. Spencer tries to ignore it, just like you told him to, but God you sound like you’re in pain and Spencer can’t exactly ignore that, can he? He loves you and cares for you and- oh. A thump reaches his ears. A textbook, maybe? Did you punch your textbook?

He considers for a moment that the neighbours will be alarmed, perhaps call the police or tentatively knock with a, “Is everything okay in there?”

It wouldn’t be the first time.

What would he tell them? Oh, my apologies, my partner has exams coming up and just told me they get why unsubs do that now. I am also terrified.

There are many instances where Spencer feels useless. During his job, when his mother would have an episode, when his friends have problems he just wouldn’t understand. But, somehow, and maybe controversially, this is the worst type of uselessness. The type that leaves him staring at the wall, questioning everything, the type that makes his stomach drop because all he can do is watch.

He’s been watching you for the last two weeks. He’s sick of watching, of being no help, and he needs to do something before he breaks and does something illegal.

(The illegal thing is doing your exams for you - not illegal as in, perhaps, murder)

Your frazzled head pops out from the office, one hand rubbing your eyes and a permanent frown etched on your face, and with a fragile voice you ask, “Can you make me a coffee, please?”

Now, Spencer feels hypocritical, but he has to say it. “Another? Are you sure?”

He sees the internal battle within you, how you try your hardest not to snap. It’s not his fault you’re stressed. He’s just trying to help. “Yes, I’m sure. Please, Spence,”

“Of course. I’ll bring it in.”

“Thank you.” With a pained smile, you’re gone again into the dark abyss of where you’re studying.

With quick, ingrained movements, Spencer makes your coffee with too much creamer and marshmallows. Unusual, yes, but your current diet consists of coffee and whatever he can force you to consume – like marshmallows.

But then, hello, he spots a chocolate bar haphazardly close to the bin, grabs it, and hopes you let him watch you eat it.

Stepping into the room as quietly as possible, he’s smacked in the face by the smell of lavender. It makes him nauseous, the intensity of it, quickly followed by a lurch of his heart because you poor thing, you’re being crushed by the weight of your degree – literally. The other day you purchased an insanely heavy weighted blanket and you’re drowning in it.

Now, if you were to ask Spencer who the most beautiful person on the planet is, he’d say you in a heartbeat. He’s thought that since you first met and, years later, still stands by that. But now, right now, glowering at him in the dimly lit, lavender drenched study that you used to love oh-so-much? You have the face of a French bulldog, all grumpy and furrowed and too many creases on your face to make Spencer feel like he’s actually helping when he places the coffee and snack on your desk.

Despite the crabby expression, your words are filled with love and appreciation – which happens to be Spencer’s favourite mix. “Thank you, my love.” You take a sip of the coffee, hum in delight, and for the first time in days there’s a spark of something other than torment. “You’re the best.”

Spencer’s hand holds the back of your neck and he places a series of soft kisses to your temple, mumbling, “I love you. Very much. Is there anything else you need?”

“Death.”

“Okay. I’ll work on it.”

At that, you grace Spencer with a weak half-smile. It’s enough to overwhelm Spencer, overflowing and only able to be shown through a chaste, encouraging peck on your lips and a half-hug, Spencer bent at the waist to hold you in your desk chair. He noses your hair, hoping his closeness will alleviate some stress, before stepping back and praying his eyes tell you everything he wants to say but know will elicit annoyance from you.

I love you. Take care of yourself. Rest, please. You can do this, but not if you over exert yourself. I love you.

Your eyes tell him, I’ll try. I love you. And that’s all he can ask for.

But when he leaves, shuffles past his bookshelf, his eyes catch sight of an old file that reminds him of when he was preparing for his own exams.

He gets an idea.

+++

It takes another two days, full of late nights involving work that isn’t staying up and distracting himself with books to avoid worrying over you and how late you go to sleep, and reading that leaves Spencer in awe of you and everyone in your field.

A part of him is amazed by how he wheelbarrowed the resources behind you without you noticing, another is worried about that fact, and the rest of him is excited that he can finally do something that will actually help. At least, he hopes.

(When everything is said and done, despite being endlessly grateful, you also inform Spencer that simply being there and being him and getting you coffee every time you ask is more than enough, really)

With pride, he leans back on the couch, observing his creations on the coffee table. There’s plenty of different colours, all representing a different topic, and he presses the thumbs up to like the Youtube video he was using to ensure his handwriting is easy to read.

Flashcards. Hundreds, if Spencer counted correctly. The textbooks he stole – borrowed – from under your nose lie next to his feet, the weight of them combined more of a workout than he’s (voluntarily) done in eons.

He only hopes you don’t think it’s too late, think he’s overstepping or-or that he’s doing those things that he’s been accused of before – thinking he knows best (he does, but whatever), overbearing arrogance, an unwillingness to hear and accept other people’s way of doing things.

He just wants to help. He wants you to know he’s here for you, no matter what you need. This is the thing that lets him believe he’s doing something, something good and useful. Spencer just wants to be useful.

He’s convinced you to eat a proper breakfast – fruit, oats, bread, meat, a whole buffet – and you sense something is amiss when you hear slow, tentative footsteps creeping from your bedroom.

Spencer, still in his pyjamas, glasses perched on his nose, approaches with a shallow box in his grasp. You swallow your bite, turn to face him. “What’ve you got there?”

The box is slid onto the counter next to your plate hesitantly, as if he regrets his actions as he’s doing them. Peering in, you see a blur of colour, stacks on stacks of rectangular paper filled with writing and questions and even a tips! section.

You pick up the first batch, all light blue, and flick through them, heart getting bigger and bigger with every word you read. And when you realise what they are, what Spencer’s done – for you – your heartrate has skyrocketed and the watch on your wrist is asking you if you’re okay.

“You made me flashcards?” You ask, in awe, again looking at the love of your life to find he’s already staring at you.

“I did,” He tells you, apprehensive and scared, already backtracking, “But, if you don’t think they’re useful, or-or you think I’m overstepping – I’m not trying to, I promise, I just thought…” He starts nervously shuffling and reshuffling some of his creation. “Flashcards are known to engage active recall and metacognition. Research consistently finds that applying metacognitive strategies tends to ingrain memories deeper into your knowledge, and that this kind of active recall retrieval practice leads to one-hundred and fifty percent better retention than passive studying, so…”

Your hands have a mind of their own, pulling what feels like an endless amount of cards out and turning them in your hands, from the questions on the front to the answers on the back, the ones with hints and advice and there’s several with doodles that are so Spencer you hold them to your chest. You’re so enamoured by this man that is still rambling and bumbling because he takes your silence as distaste.

“I just- I hate seeing you so stressed, so I made these. You don’t have to use them, of course. They’re not even that great. It’s not that I don’t think you’re capable, you’re beyond capable, or that your methods don’t work- Just, personally, I love flashcards. I used them all the time when studying, even though I didn’t really need them, so perhaps a change of medium would do you good-“

A warm hand on his own that keep fidgeting stops him mid-stream of consciousness.

“Thank you,” You say, earnestly, “Really. These are lovely.” You leap from your seat, wrapping Spencer in warmth and love and care, and he shivers when he feels your hot breath on his ear when you repeat your thanks again and again.

When he pulls you even closer, so your torso curves into his own, you feel the lightest you have in weeks. You’re in the arms of the man you love, who knows you love him too and you know loves you so much – enough to spend several nights reading your cursed textbooks so he could create something that might help – and now you’re confident that you can do it. With the help of Spencer and his lovingly hand-made flashcards, you can do it.

And if, somehow, it goes awry, that’s okay too. Because you’ll still have Spencer, your number one fan, who will be there to comfort you and advise you in any way he can. He’ll never let you doubt yourself, never allow a self-deprecating joke if he can help it, because if he has to, he’ll love and support you enough for the both of you until you can do it yourself.

The world feels a little brighter, your breaths feel a little lighter, all because of Spencer. So you kiss him, murmur love against his lips, and get ready to take on whatever dares to come your way.

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @ogmilkis @chiffonchronicles @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @gublertoon @averyhotchner @wheeledup @shadyladyperfection @joodeduarte @calm-and-doctor @

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #mine #the end is super cheesy but #eeeeeeeeeeeeee

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mingishoe · 3 years

Text

Jerk | Ateez OT8

Summary: After a long couple of weeks that consisted of nothing but photoshoots and filming, San came up with an idea to help the members loosen up a bit.

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Azeez/OT8,,, Yunho is still a major sub and subby Wooyoung and Jongho

Word Count: 3.1k

Smut Warning: Jerk circle, high-key a little more than a jerk circle, yeah… definitely way past a jerk circle, obviously MXM, MXM touching, masturbating, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, dirty talk, orgy? Idk they’re not really fucking??? Dick sucking, mouth fucking, kinda ass eating? and Yunho and Wooyoung are pretty cum sluts

@jonghoshoe @cloudyyeonnie @barnesbabee and I forgot the other person who told me to @ them but 😳

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

All the members had been super stressed and tired after a long week of photoshoots and filming, so San had offered to set up a movie night for the members. Unfortunately, Yeosang, Hongjoong, Jongho, and Mingi had made a dinner reservation which left the rest of the members with San.

Regardless, San was happy to pick a nice movie and some snacks to eat. San thought it would be funny to pick a raunchy movie and watch it together. Maybe make one of them a little bit flustered… Flustered was the word he wanted. Horny MiGhT nOt have been the word he was exactly looking for but he’d take what he got.

The four of them were lying across the floor, San lying on Seonghwa’s lap, and Wooyoung and Yunho were underneath a blanket. They were mindlessly eating popcorn while they were half-watching the movie that San had picked out until suddenly everyone’s head snapped up as the room filled with moans.

Originally everyone had thought it had been one of them but then they heard loud female moaning and it obviously couldn’t be them. Their eyes were glued to the TV screen like the horny boys they are, “San?! What kind of movie is this?!?” Seonghwa shifted underneath San.

San laughed and turned to face Seonghwa while still on his lap, “Dunno, I just picked something random.”

Their attention is back on the screen, minus San who keeps his eyes trained on Seonghwa’s face and the subtlest amount of pressure on his crotch.

The camera panned down to show two people in the middle of some pretty intense sex. There was a gasp from one of the boys as it suddenly showed boobs bouncing, “Are you sure this isn’t porn?!” Seonghwa pushed San off of his lap as he adjusted his pants.

“What do you mean Hyung? Is it getting you a little bit… excited?” San’s eyes flicked from his eyes to the obvious boner in his sweats.

Wooyoung snorts and starts to laugh loudly and Yunho elbows him, “Wooyoung don’t act- you have one too.”

There’s a pause. A long pause as the four of them is staring at each other. San has a mischievous glint in his eyes and he exchanges glances with Wooyoung and Seonghwa. Yunho takes the hint and his cheeks immediately get red, “San- Don’t even think about it-”

“Aw come on! Why not? It’ll be fun!” San raised his eyebrows suggestively at Yunho.

Yunho knew he was right… he honestly wanted to but he just needed to make sure San was being serious and not just joking like how he normally is.

“Right Hwa? It’ll be fun, huh?” As San spoke, he kinda pulled on the waistband of his sweats revealing his V line.

Wooyoung and Seonghwa spoke up at the same time, “It’ll be fun.”

Their attention turned to Yunho whose face was still bright red. His fingers were fiddling with his sweats before San spoke back up, “It’s okay Pup. Need some help?”

San takes Yunho’s hand and leads him until he’s in front of the three boys. They each have their hands somewhere on Yunho: San was busy taking his shirt off, Seonghwa was pulling his sweats off, and Wooyoung let his hands trail down Yunho’s stomach down to his leaking red cock.

Yunho was already shaking from the several pairs of hands on him, until suddenly everyone took their hands off of him, “Lay down babe.” Wooyoung’s hands slowly push Yunho down on his back.

The remaining boys circle Yunho as he looks up at them with wide eyes as they all rush to undress.

San moves to straddle Yunho’s lap and takes both his cock and Yunho’s in his hands. He has both hands wrapped around both cocks and he slowly starts to thrust his cock in his hand and against Yunho’s.

Yunho’s hands immediately reach up to grip San’s wrists, “Ah- Wait! Fuck-”

“It’s alright Pup. You can cum as many times as you want. And you’re gonna be our pretty little cum dump.” Yunho’s blush spread to his neck and chest from being called a cum dump but he’d gladly take everything his members gave him. He wants to be their stress reliever.

Yunho nods and lets himself relax as San continues his soft thrusting. Seonghwa takes Yunho’s hand off of San and replaces it with his cock, Wooyoung doing the same.

Yunho feels an overwhelming feeling of pleasure and satisfaction as everyone is using him for their own pleasure. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lip in between his teeth as his eyes switch between the three different cocks, “Moan for us, pretty boy. Let us hear those pretty noises of yours.”

Yunho’s eyes are trained on Seonghwa and his cock until San begins to jerk him just right. Loud whines and groans flow from Yunho’s mouth as he tries to angle his hips away from San’s touch as Yunho’s cock throbs at San’s touch, “S-San! Sansansan! His grip on Wooyoung and Seonghwa’s cocks tighten as he’s on the verge of cumming.

“Go ahead. Make a mess.” The room is filled with moans from the four boys as they’re all pathetically close to cumming after such a short period of time.

Neither of the boys can remember the last time they touched themselves, or each other, with how busy they’ve been and it was all crashing down on them at once.

The first to cum was Yunho. Yunho was always so sensitive and everyone knew exactly how to touch him, so he hardly ever lasted more than 4 or 5 minutes without being edged but Yunho’s lucky he loves being overstimulated because it happens pretty much every time.

Yunho’s hips were grinding into San’s hand alongside his cock as his cum squirts all over his stomach and chest.

Yunho’s soft begs of their names and the movements of his slick, cum covered hands made Wooyoung and Seonghwa cum almost simultaneously all over Yunho.

The two boys sat back for a minute to catch their breath and watched as San continued to rut against Yunho’s cock, “Please Sannie! G-Give it to me! Give me your c- Hnng-” Yunho’s cock started throbbing harshly as he was on the verge of cumming twice in a row, “Cum. C-Cum on me. Please! H-Hurry before I-I cum again!”

San laughed softly as he glanced to Wooyoung who already looked worn out, “It’s alright Pup. We’ll all give you so much more.”

San’s cock made lewd squelching noises as his cum was mixing with Yunho’s. It wasn’t until San looked down at Yunho’s cock and stomach was he about to cum.

San was typically the one who had the most stamina out of the boys, but everyone knew that he had a weak spot for Yunho.

San’s eyes were glued to Yunho’s cock that was still fully hard and red from the overstimulation. His eyes trailed up slightly and loud moans spilled from his lips as he was looking at Yunho’s cum stained abs contract from his incoming orgasm, “G-Gonna give it to you P-Pup.”

With a shaky voice, San let out a couple of drawn-out whines as he gripped onto his cock tightly as he watched Yunho’s facial expressions closely until he came on Yunho.

The cum of the four boys was mixed on Yunho and they all looked down at him with flushed cheeks and heavy breaths.

San removed himself from Yunho’s lap and grabbed onto Wooyoung’s hand to pull him onto Yunho, “Go on Woo.”

Wooyoung lets out a whine as he bends down to take Yunho’s cock in his mouth. Wooyoung eagerly sucks on Yunho’s cock that’s most definitely too big for him, and groans as he tastes Yunho’s and San’s mixed cum.

Yunho whines loudly as Wooyoung sucks on him like it’s what he’s made for, “W-Wooyoung! Ah- fuck! G-Gonna cum!”

Just as Yunho was about to cum, the front door swung open and Wooyoung pulled away from Yunho quickly. Yunho let out a pathetic sob as he started to grind his hips into the air trying to chase Wooyoung’s mouth.

Yunho didn’t even notice the door open or the rest of the members stopping in their tracks as they saw the naked boys in the middle of the room.

It was only until Mingi let out a loud laugh, that he finally looked in their direction, “Need some help there?”

Mingi didn’t hesitate to drop his things at the door to make his way towards his poor friend who had the most desperate look on his face.

As Mingi made his way to Yunho he simultaneously removed himself of his clothing, leaving a trail of clothes, “M-Mingi! Please!”

At this point, Yunho didn’t care who touched him. He was just so desperate to cum. His eyes were practically begging for Mingi to do absolutely anything to him. Since Mingi was significantly bigger than Wooyoung, he was easily able to take most of Yunho down his throat. Yunho immediately gripped Mingi’s hair and his hips thrust into Mingi’s throat with loud moans.

Yunho suddenly forgot about the rest of the boys who had only previously just walked in, and was only focused on Mingi’s mouth.

Jongho had absolutely no words as San looked at him with a lopsided smile that was very innocent compared to the sight in front of them.

Jongho felt himself become flushed and hot as he practically ran to his room. San laughed softly because he knew that Jongho would get over his pride and join the rest of them in 10 minutes max.

Hongjoong and Yeosang were stood in the same spot as they glanced at each other before Yeosang spoke up in a condescending tone, “Are y’all really that desperate?” But in the same breath says, “One of y’all move over.”

Everyone’s attention is drawn back to Yunho as he lets out a choked sob as Mingi sucks him off just like he loves so much, “G-Gonna cum again! Please Mingi! It- ah!”

Yunho’s whines and begs got cut off as his second orgasm ripped through his entire body. His back arched beautifully and his hips were squirming as Mingi continued to take everything Yunho was giving him.

Mingi’s deep groans were vibrating Yunho’s over-sensitive cock and Mingi finally pulled away with a loud pop.

In Jongho's room, he can hear the loud whines and desperate moans coming from Yunho, his leaking cock begging to be touched. His hips ground themselves into his mattress to get some kind of pleasure without actually touching himself because, in all honesty, he was too embarrassed to do so.

“J-Jongho!” Jongho let out a soft whine as he heard his name being called by Yunho.

“Jongho, sweetheart… there’s no need to do it all by yourself.” Jongho looked at the doorway and saw Seonghwa standing there, completely naked and cock hard, as he referred to the way he was rutting himself onto the mattress, “Come let us help you… Yunho will be more than happy, you know.”

Seonghwa holds his hand out for Jongho to take, and finally, Jongho sucks it up and gets up. He lets Seonghwa take him to where the rest of the members were and everyone’s attention was on him.

Yunho sits up and Jongho's eyes are glued to his cum stained figure and his cock twitches. Seonghwa lets his hands run over Jongho to help him relax a little bit before he starts to undress him.

Jongho makes his way to Yunho to sit on his lap. Yunho wraps his arms around him, smearing cum on the younger boy.

Jongho shoves his head in Yunho’s neck as he starts to grind himself on Yunho’s cock. San looks at Yunho in amazement. He can’t believe that Yunho is still as hard as before, his erection never going down.

He turns his attention to Yeosang who is stroking his cock as he’s watching the two boys in the center of the circle they’ve created, “Look at our pretty whores.”

Jongho let out a loud moan at San’s words. He turned to look at them and saw San’s hand making his way down Yeosang’s abs down to grip onto his cock.

Jongho's eyes were shifting to each member as he saw them each with either theirs or another, cock in their hand. Jongho’s body suddenly stiffened as he thrashed harshly as Yunho took hold of his ass and began thrusting along with Jongho.

Mingi who had previously just been with Yunho cocked his head at the sight in front of him. His cock was throbbing and deep moans spilled out his swollen lips as he harshly jerked himself off.

Wooyoung let out pathetic whimpers as his eyes were glued to Mingi who was next to him. His eyes were glossy and his eyes were begging for Mingi to touch him. Wooyoung took hold of Mingi’s hand and almost started crying with relief at the friction.

In turn, Mingi did the same. He grabbed Wooyoung’s hand and wrapped it around his leaking cock. Mingi thrust himself into Wooyoung’s hand and before he knew it, ropes of cum squirted onto Jongho’s ass.

Jongho felt the hot cum squirt on his ass and soon after he felt it once again, and turned to see Wooyoung with tears falling down his red cheeks, “Pleaseplease fuck! M-Mingi fuck! F-Feels so good!”

Jongho suddenly got overwhelmed. Yunho’s touch feels 10x stronger and he cums. Yunho lets out another sob and he can’t stop the tears that begin to spill from his eyes as he cums for the third time.

Jongho and Yunho’s cum mixes together and Jongho lets himself back onto his knees and Hongjoong makes his way in front of Jongho and pushes his head down so he could swiftly push his cock past his pretty lips.

Until now, Hongjoong had stayed mostly quiet, only softly jerking himself as he watched the rest of his members, but Hongjoong became restless.

Jongho gripped Hongjoong’s thigh as he began to thrust into his mouth. Jongho let out choked noises but further tilted his head to take more of Hongjoong’s cock.

From behind him, he felt something slide between his ass, and then he heard Yeosang’s voice, “S‘alright. Not gonna fuck you. At least not today…”

With that, Yeosang started thrusting himself between Jongho's ass in time with Hongjoongs.

Jongho's choked moans and groans were vibrating against Hongjoong’s cock. Jongho had his eyes glued on both Hongjoong and Yeosang who were above them, and he let out a loud sob when Yeosang pulled Hongjoong in for a long kiss.

Jongho watched with droopy eyes as Hongjoong shoved his tongue into Yeosang’s throat. As their make out got more intense, so did both of their thrusts. Jongho's eyes were watering and he was gagging as Hongjoong’s cock continuously slammed against the back of his throat.

An accidental swallow around Hongjoong’s cock was the final trigger and his cum shot down Jongho's throat. As he came down from his high he pulled away from Yeosang and slowly pulled out of Jongho's mouth, with a string of saliva connecting the two.

Yeosang turns around when he hears a chorus of groans and sees Wooyoung attaching his lips to Yunho.

Yeosang is watching with a flushed expression as Wooyoung is licking and sucking all the cum off of Yunho’s cock, thighs, stomach, and chest.

Wooyoung let’s out content hums as he makes his way up Yunho’s body, making sure not to miss a drop of cum on the way,

“Such a cum slut.” San laughs condescendingly at Wooyoung, “then, when Yeosang is finished, why don’t you go and help clean Jongho up?”

Wooyoung eagerly nodded and turned his attention to Yeosang, “H-Hyung, please! Cum. Please cum! I-I’ll be a good boy and clean it all up for you!”

Yeosang lets out a shaky laugh, “Y-Yeah? You’ll clean up Jongho like a good boy? Like a good little cum slut?”

“Yeah- y-yours. Your cum slut.” Yeosang let out a deep groan at Wooyoung’s words and he finally let himself cum. He smirked slightly in between his deep moans and grunts as he made sure to cover Jongho‘s ass, and even slightly lower to his balls, with cum.

As soon as Wooyoung could tell Yeosang was done, he pushed him to the side and immediately made contact with his ass.

At first Jongho was fine. It was only on his cheeks that Wooyoung had been so eagerly licking the cum off, but then he pulled away and before he knew it, he took the entirety of Jongho‘s cock in his mouth, taking the last bit of cum off of it.

Jongho squeezed his eyes shut and his entire body spasmed as Wooyoung spread Jongho open and licked and sucked around his rim, “Woo! Ah- fuck!” And without any warning, Jongho came for the second time.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened and he somehow managed to place Jongho‘s cock in his mouth to catch the rest of his cum.

Jongho was completely exhausted. He was leaning most of his weight on Wooyoung who held onto him tightly.

Yunho was spaced out with heavy breaths as Mingi carefully played with his hair.

Seonghwa and Hongjoong had gotten up to get washcloths and bottles of water to help clean the rest of the members up.

Seonghwa passed a washcloth to a couple different members so they could help each other. Mingi gently ran the washcloth over Yunho’s face to wipe his rosey tear stained cheeks then over his stomach and thighs to clean him up as much as possible.

Wooyoung was ever so gently cleaning Jongho because of how worn out and sensitive he was, and San and Yeosang were both lying across the sofas with a dreamlike gaze on their face.

“Thank you San. It was fun…” Yunho mumbled as him and Mingi walked off to his room to take probably the best sleep he’d get in weeks.

“Maybe next time we’ll have even more fun… what do you say, Jongho?” Wooyoung ran his fingers through his hair as Jongho laughed softly as he nodded.

San was already most definitely thinking about the next time something like this could happen… he was just dying to absolutely ruin one of his pretty friends.

359 notes · View notes

biggest-stupidhead · 3 years

Text

Bad Timing (Levi x Reader) Part 5

Summary: How do you tell your friends that you’re falling for your big brother’s best friend?

Work Count: 6.3K

You were angry. Of course Levi had to go and stir the pot right before the holiday season. The time of year when he spent the most of his hours at your home. Even though he spent most of his time at your house throughout the whole year, this amount of time typically doubled through the months of October through December. The remaining weeks in October were the worst. You both expertly avoided one another, Petra and Levi continued to see each other exclusively. This turned out to be bittersweet for you, the pros were that Levi was busy trying to please Petra to spend too much time at your house. But also it stung to see him with her, even though you had no right to feel jealous.

The two weeks after your kiss, you spent holed up in your room, your phone set on do not disturb. After binging Gossip Girls and all of the classic Disney movies, you finally decided that instead of focusing on romance, you would devote yourself to school. Thankfully you weren't the only person that favored school over social gatherings, you found yourself spending countless hours in the school's musty library with Armin. He was so easy to get along with, down to earth, kind, and most importantly, he was too shy to ask you about anything too personal. Today was one of those days, it was nearing the end of November, the trees had shed their leaves, bearing the naked bark. And the weather was constantly changing. Some days it would snow, others it would pour rain, but that was just the midwest for you. Glancing up from the textbook that had held your attention for the past two hours, your were pleased to see a flurry of fat snowflakes spiraling downwards. The window had frost creeping up from the corners, thank God, maybe the weather would finally settle and allow the snow to stick for once. You could feel Armin staring at you, his eyes piercing the back of your skull. a feeling you had become familiar with. Turning back to face him, he averted his eyes, a comforting pink creeping onto his cheeks with the embarrassment of being caught.

"It's really coming down huh?" you tried to initiate some light small talk.

"Yeah! Hopefully it will stick." Armin responded, a nervous chuckle slipping past his lips as he returned his attention back to his homework. You hummed, glancing back down at the yellowing pages of the old history textbook, a frown marring your features.

"What's wrong? Need some help?" Armin asked, standing up from his seat and coming to stand behind you.

"Oh, well I guess I'm just confused about this law." you pulled the response from your ass. Of course you understood Roe v. Wade, you just didn't want to tell Armin that you were ready to leave. He always made this face that reminded you of a puppy that just got drop kicked.

"Roe v. Wade huh? I can help you with that no problem!" his baby blue eyes lit up, he pulled the nearest chair up to the table, the legs loudly scratching against the rickety library floors.

"Great, thanks!" you tried to sound excited, and you tried even harder to focus on Armin's summary of Roe v. Wade.

"Easy right?" Armin chirped, his finger hovering over the paragraph that explained the law.

"You're right, I think that I just need a break. My brain feels fried." you moaned, folding your arms across the desk and burying your head in your arms.

"Likewise." Armin agreed, dragging his chair closer to yours not very subtly.

"Want to go grab a coffee?" you asked, barely lifting your head to glance at him.

"Sure." he beamed, his innocent face completely lighting up. Your library had a small coffee shop nestled in the back, the cafe was run by students who had free periods. Granted the coffee wasn't the best, but it still did the job. You thanked the girl behind the counter as she passed you your steaming cup of dark liquid. Armin was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he waited for his order, you busied yourself with mixing in sugar and some creamer. Finally the barista gave Armin his latte and the two of you meandered back to your corner. You slowly began packing your things, hoping that Armin would get the hint and you would be able to escape the stuffy library. Armin noticed, you closed the book with a sigh and began stuffing pens and other writing utensils into your small pencil case.

"Ready to call it a day?" Armin asked his lips hovering over the steaming hot coffee.

"Yeah, I told Hange that I would be ready to leave by the time she finished with Science Olympiad." you sighed, gathering the assortment of books that you had pulled from the shelves getting up to return them to their rightful places.

"Oh gotcha, same time Thursday?" He asked hopefully, his light blue eyes meeting yours. You clicked your tongue and grimaced, shooting him an apologetic look.

"Ah I would but my mom has Thursday off so I was going to have dinner with her." you explained, watching Armin get that kicked puppy look, that look always had a way of making your heart hurt.

"Aw well have fun!" he waved you off, the sad look on his face replaced with a small forced smile.

"Thanks Armin, I'll see you in Chem tomorrow." you smiled sweetly at him as you turned to leave.

"Bye!" he waved goodbye to you as you pulled the large door open and slipped out. Sparing a glance at your watch you sighed, Hange should be done in the next 5 minutes. But knowing her she would take another 20 minutes to wrap up her Science Olympiad meeting. So you leisurely strolled down the empty stone corridor, your eyes trained on the large windows that lined the hallway and overlooked the courtyard. The library was on the second floor, which gave you a perfect view of the school grounds. The snow seemed to be falling faster now, the flakes were beginning to stick to the blades of grass, giving the lawn a patchy appearance. Hopefully Hange had remembered her snow scraper, surely the car would have a coating of frost on the windows by now. It would not be the first time that the two of you had to scrape ice from her windows using your credit cards or your school ids.

You turned your attention back to the stony corridor, you had almost reached the stairs. You began your descent, a hand loosely gliding down the cold stone banister. Your mind drifted to thoughts of what Erwin's plans were for this evening, did he plan to eat dinner with you? Or would he run off with Hange as he had been doing for the past week or so? You had noticed that the pair had been spending more time alone as of late, and you couldn't blame them. Erwin was already committed to Notre Dame, a prestigious school known for football and extraordinary academics. Hange had recently been accepted into Princeton, one of the eight ivy league schools, and she was ecstatic. This however means that they will attending schools in different states. You knew that they planned to continue dating despite the distance, personally you were a tad skeptical of long distance relationships, but you knew that they were both mature enough to continue seeing each other.

You paused on the landing between floors, the sound of laughter was echoing off the stoney walls.

"That was a dirty move Kirstein!" you recognized Eren's agitated voice, which was closely followed by the hearty laughter of Conny and Marco.

"Pay closer attention next time Jeager." Jean teased, a smile spread across your lips at the sound of your friends. Their presence motivated you to jog down the remaining stairs and turn the corner. Just at you poked your head around the corner your eyes landed on the group of boys walking towards you.

"Oi (Y/n)! Where's Armin?" Eren called out to you first and you waved.

"Still in the library." you jabbed your thumb back towards the stairs behind you.

"Classic." Conny sniggered as he adjusted his duffle bag on his shoulder. You pursed your lips as you took in their uniforms. They wore soccer jerseys and shorts, a matching set of forest green, the school crest, a pair of wings one blue and one white, rested above their left breast over their hearts.

"Indoor soccer?" you asked, nodding towards the ball tucked under Marco's arm. The boy nodded and tossed you the ball.

"Season just started." he stated proudly, you easily caught the ball and smiled at him. Marco was your age, but you didn't usually spend time with him outside of school. The two of you had grown close the year prior when you had been in the same gym class, but since then you hadn't spoken very much.

"How exciting." you murmured as you gripped the ball in your hands. The boys nodded and you tossed the ball back to Marco.

"What are you doing here so late?" Jean asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Studying for the Government test with Armin." you shrugged, tucking your hands in your pockets. Things had been tense in your friend group since you and Jean had began casually seeing one another. The two of you had gone out on a handful of dates over the past month, all of them enjoyable. But you knew you didn't want a full blown relationship, something you still needed to tell Jean.

"Ah gotcha. So will you be coming to Sasha's friendsgiving party this weekend?" Jean inquired, his eyes shined with a glint of hope.

"Oh, I almost forgot about that! Yeah I'll be there." you smiled, a rush of excitement running through you when you remembered the invitation you had received earlier this week.

"What are you bringing?" Conny butted in, licking his lips. You hummed thoughtfully, what would you bring?

"Maybe macaroni and cheese? Or a pie?" You thought aloud as you lifted a hand to cup your chin. Conny groaned and grabbed your shoulder.

"Pie, please for the love of God bring your pie." he begged, his hand squeezing your shoulder. You giggled at this eagerness, and nodded. Pies were easy enough to bake, and if that's what people wanted then you would be more than happy to deliver.

"Thank you thank you thank you-" Conny shook you as he thanked you profusely, Eren snarled and tugged the two of you apart, while Marco and Jean laughed.

"Knock it off baldy." he hissed as he tossed Conny back. You chuckled and waved your hands dismissively.

"I'd better go, Hange should be done soon." you sighed, your eyes straying to the nearest window, you gasped. The snow was coming down in thick swirls, the sun had dipped below the horizon, making it difficult to see much through the snow.

"Oh wow, that's a lot of snow!" Marco exclaimed as he turned to follow your gaze. Jean let out a low whistle, Conny squealed excitedly.

"Yeah I better get going." you called over your shoulder as you made a break for the west wing, which was where the senior parking lot was located. The halls were dark, you only crossed paths with one janitor who didn't even glance up at you. You paused at the door at the end of the hallway and squinted out into the blizzard. The parking lot was dark, a clear indicator that Hange had not arrived to warm up the car before you.

"Ah there you are, perfect timing!" Hange's booming voice startled you as it echoed through the empty hall.

"Oh Hange, thank God, please tell me you have your scraper." you fretted, Hange grimaced, giving you an apologetic smile.

"Yeah about that..." she muttered, her hand rubbing the back of her neck. You groaned and reached into your backpack for your wallet. You fished out your drivers license and your credit card and turned back to the snowy parking lot.

"Better get started then." you grumbled, Hange laughed anxiously and moved to open the door for the both of you.

"Right."

___

You flexed your raw fingers by the vents as they blasted hot air into the cabin of the car. Hange was rubbing her hands together furiously and blowing hot air on her own frigid fingers.

"For the love of God, just keep the scraper in the car year round." you moaned as you slid your id back into your wallet.

"Might be a good idea actually." Hange stuttered between the chattering of her teeth. You huffed, tucking your hands underneath your thighs in an attempt to regain the feeling in your hands. Hange shifted the gear to drive and slowly pulled the car out of the parking lot, the wipers squeaking against the glass as they swiped the relentless snow off of the windshield.

"So, what do you want for dinner kiddo?" she gushed, her coppery eyes glinting mischievously.

"I dunno, something hot." you jabbed back, shifting on your hands.

"Whole gangs going to be there!" Hange prodded, clearly attempting to get a reaction from you.

"Great, who's cooking?" you taunted, shooting her a smile to show that you meant well.

"Oh well I guess Nanaba could." Hange mused, pleased with your good natured jabs.

"Great I'm starving." you leaned back and closed your eyes. Hange chuckled and turned her eyes back to the dark road ahead.

The drive took longer than usual due to the heavy snowfall. The roads were slick with the fresh snow, which stuck stubbornly to the road due to the lack of traffic on the country roads. But you made it to your house without a hitch. Erwin's minivan was already covered in a layer of snow, and Levi's BMW was untouched, Mike and Nanaba had not yet arrived. Hange parked and the two of you quickly gathered your belongings and walked briskly to the front door. You kicked your feet on the mat before entering, the foyer already a bit wet due to snow being tracked in on shoes. You peeled off your shoes with Hange and carried your things upstairs, Hange following close behind. Hange slipped into Erwin's room while you dropped your bag in your own room. You hadn't seen your brother or his short friend yet which was odd, they usually hung out in the kitchen. You met Hange back in the hall, her glasses, which had fogged up when you had entered the house were perched atop of her auburn hair.

"Where are they?" you asked bluntly as you watched her scrub the spectacles with the hem of her sweater.

"Beats me, let's go make some soup or something." Hange shrugged, holding her glasses up to the light to inspect the lenses. So you jogged down the stairs and began pawing through the pantry through the abundance of canned goods. You frowned at the cream of mushroom soup and set it back into the pile before refocusing.

"Heyyy now we're talking!" Hange crooned, you turned to see her pulling out a frozen pizza from the depths of your freezer. You scoffed before turning back to the pantry, a frown settling on your features.

"How about tomato soup and grilled cheese?" you offered as you pulled out two cans of tomato soup and a loaf of bread. Hange shrugged and tossed the pizza back into the freezer, she then opened the fridge and pulled out an assortment of cheese. The two of you fell into your effortless rhythm Hange stirred the soup while you began to cook the sandwiches. Finally the front door banged open, Levi's combat boots squeaking as he walked into the house, he haphazardly kicked off the shoes and stalked into the kitchen and straight into the living room. You raised your eyebrows in surprise as you watched him walk through the house, his arms full with kindling. Erwin followed closely behind, his arms also full of firewood. So that's where the pair had been. Hange fawned over them, greeting Erwin by dusting off bits of bark from his coat before turning to pat Levi's head. Levi swatted her sticky hands off of his head and glared at her menacingly.

"Hands off four eyes." Levi hissed, he ducked expertly underneath her arm and fled to the kitchen where you were flipping a grilled cheese. Erwin and Hange began the chore of lighting the fire while you took on the task of cooking as per usual. Levi frowned at the sight of the damp foyer and turned on his heel to grab the mop. You smiled at the sight of him mopping the floor despite the fact that people were still on their way and it would only end up messy again. Sure enough, just as Levi tossed the dirty water out of the front door and tucked the mop back in the closet, Mike and Nanaba strutted in, arms full of assorted baked goods and board games.

"Hey everybody! Hope we didn't miss anything!" Nanaba trilled as she tracked more snow into the front room. Levi heaved a sigh as he turned to grab the mop, you chuckled and took the container of cookies from her arms so she could take off her jacket. Mike nodded at you as he strolled into the living room where Hange and Erwin were still fumbling to light the fire wood.

"No, we actually only just got home about thirty minutes ago." you assured the blonde as she joined you in the kitchen. She smiled as she watched Mike kneel down to join Erwin and Hange as they blew on the small embers.

"What games did you guys bring?" you attempted to make small talk as you turned back to the task at hand.

"Oh the usuals, Sequence, Candy Land, Clue, etcetera." she waved a hand dismissively as she turned to stir the soup.

"Sounds fun!" you exclaimed as you tossed another sandwich on the plate. Nanaba hummed in response as she smiled stupidly into the soup. You pursed your lips and cocked your head as you studied her.

"Not to be that person but...Have you picked a school yet?" you asked with a small chuckle. She nodded,

"Yeah actually, just picked two days ago!" she beamed, turning to face you once more.

"Wow really?"

"Yeah! I'm going to attend Michigan State University with Mike!" she gushed as she set the spoon off to the side with a clang.

"That's great! Michigan is beautiful, and that's an awesome school." you matched her excitement and dumped the final sandwich on the plate and switched the stove off.

"Thanks! We're super excited." her words were so sweet and filled with love it made you feel sick. You nodded and turned to grab plates and bowls for everyone. Nanaba and Mike had only started dating about a month prior, in fact they had admitted their affections to one another back in October at your house. In a way you envied their effortless relationship, despite only dating for a month they made a great pair. You served yourself and moved to sit at the island in the kitchen. A cheer from the living room told you that the trio had finally ignited the fire, shortly after they piled into the kitchen and began to dish food onto their plates. Levi once again stuffed the mop and bucket back into the closet and feverishly washed his hands before serving himself. As he reached for a grilled cheese the sleeve of his hoodie scrunched up, revealing a new tattoo on his left wrist. Your jaw dropped momentarily, the sight of the fresh ink shocking you. In fact it was so fresh that the skin around the ink was still red and a bit swollen, glistening with the salve. He rounded the island and dropped into the stool to your left, and your eyes went straight to his wrist.

"Fresh ink?" you asked, propping your chin on the heel of your hand as you watched him bring the spoon to his mouth.

"Yeah." he replied, not bothering to elaborate.

"Can I see?" you pressed, Levi shot you a glare as he bit into his sandwich but still lifted his hand for you to pull his sleeve up. You gingerly tugged his sleeve up and a tiny 'awe' escaped your lips. The drawing was extremely minimalistic, the delicate black ink contrasting beautifully with his pale skin tone. It was a small tea cup, with a chip in its rim. Levi scoffed and tugged his arm back.

"That's a good one Levi." you gushed as you turned back to your own meal.

"Thanks." he grumbled as he looked everywhere but your face.

"Where do you get them done?" you asked before taking a huge bite of your sandwich.

"WitchHammer." he grunted, his patience growing thin. All of these questions reminded him of a particular brunette. You hummed in response as you entertained the idea of getting a tattoo for your 16th birthday that was coming up in the next couple of months. You already had an appointment at the shop to get your forward helix pierced on your left ear. The others were getting rowdy on the other side of the island, too engrossed in their conversation to notice the side conversation Levi and you were engaging in.

"Did it hurt?" you quizzed feeling a bit playful. You had missed Levi's bluntness and his shitty sense of humor.

"I would be lying if I said no." he retorted, his sharp eyes catching yours for the first time in weeks. You chuckled and nodded as you chewed your food.

"You think that I would look good with a couple tattoos?" you giggled, smiling broadly at the raven haired boy. He clicked his tongue and turned to take you in, his eyes raking over your form. Finally his eyes settled on your hands, his brows pinched together in thought as he stared.

"Personally...I like minimalistic designs, you could probably pull off some finger tats or hand tats." he mused, you glanced at your hands, interesting. You held your hands up to the light to get a better look and began to think of some small designs that you might be interested in.

"Tattoos are a big commitment, don't just get some stupid shit." Levi lectured as he lifted his cup of tea to his lips, you frowned he was one to talk.

"I know." you decided that tonight wasn't the time to argue with him, especially since this was the first time spending time together in weeks. He nodded but kept a skeptical eye on you as you folded your hands onto your lap and turned to listen to the other conversation. You frowned when you realized they were just talking about prom, awkward. So you decided to clean up, the exhaustion of the long day seemed to hit you like a truck and all you could think about was your bed and all of the work that was due on Sunday. You washed up quickly and waved weakly before trudging up the stairs, thankfully the others didn't seem to care that you were calling it a night early. You changed into a pair of flannel pjs and an old ACDC shirt that had seen better days. You sank into your old desk chair and flicked on the small lamp, you rummaged through your back pack and pulled out your laptop and a notebook. Sparing a glance at the small alarm clock you groaned, it was already well past nine o'clock.

You decided to pick up from where you had left off with your Government notes. Your handwriting started off neat, the ink gliding flawlessly across the lined paper. But by the time you had finished the notes and moved on to your chemistry homework, your handwriting had become rocky at best. You frowned at the smudged ink, the green hue bleeding into the once white paper. With a sigh you reached for your white out and continued to write out the reaction. Once you were finished with Chem, you turned your attention to your research paper for English. As you typed you could feel your eyelids drooping, the words seemed to blur and bend across the computer screen. Closing your eyes for a moment wouldn't hurt would it? A defeated sigh breezed past your lips as you folded your arms across the desk and rested your forehead against your arms to block out the blinding light of your lamp. You yawned and rubbed your eyes in an attempt to wake yourself up, though this seemed to be unsuccessful. As you slipped into sleep, you recalled the last time you had fallen asleep at your desk and how fucked up your back felt the following week. But your exhaustion won and your head slumped against your desk, any pain you felt would be a problem for future you.

Meanwhile, downstairs the upperclassman were well into their third bottle of wine and their fifth round of Candy Land. Erwin flicked the spinner and moved his piece accordingly, Levi sat back and sipped the dry red wine, Mike had his hand thrown over Nanaba's shoulders casually. Hange was leaning her head heavily against Erwin's shoulder and Levi swore he had never felt like such a loser in his whole life. If you were down here at least he wouldn't be the only person down here that was single. Hange howled as Erwin pushed his piece past hers, always the sore looser. Nanaba giggled drunkenly as she choked on her glass of wine. Levi rolled his eyes, his friends were past tipsy now, but not quite drunk, and this was usually when Levi would leave. He hated dealing with drunk people, they were messy and loud, the mere thought of any of them vomiting made him cringe. He waited until the spinner came around to him before he excused himself.

"Count me out." he held up his hand to deny the spinner as Mike tried to hand it to him.

"Awe come on Levi! We can't let Erwin win for the fifth time in a row!" Mike begged as Levi stood up and picked up his glass of wine.

"No." Levi denied, his voice growing colder. The group collectively called for him to stay, their voices a bit unsteady due to the alcohol. Levi shrugged them off and carefully stepped over Hange, she snagged his ankle and held him in a vice grip.

"No, don't go Levi! Finish this game please!" she whimpered as she pressed her face into his calf. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the sudden contact, Erwin chuckled and pulled Hange back and pressed a kiss to her temple. Yeah it was definitely time for him to go to bed, besides he needed to put some vaseline on his fresh ink. He slid into the upstairs bathroom, the sound of his friends laughing fading into the background. Tugging up his sleeve his hissed at the feeling of the raw skin coming in contact with the cold air. He pawed through the drawers, pausing at the sight of your feminine hygiene products. He usually used the downstairs restroom since the guest room was in the basement. He slammed the drawer shut and moved onto the next one, a relieved sigh escaping his lips at the sight of the familiar jar of vaseline. He swiped the jelly onto his tiny tea cup tattoo and rolled his sleeve back down, the soothing jelly immediately calming the irritated skin.

On his way out of the bathroom he noticed the small sliver of light that shined through your cracked door. He glanced down at his wrist watch and frowned, it was one thirty in the morning, you had supposedly gone to bed hours ago. He glanced down the stairs, from the bathroom he could see the open floor layout of the living room, where all of his friends were still gathered. He steeled himself and padded up to your door, he lifted his hand and rapped the backs of his knuckles against the surface. He frowned when there was no response, he gently pushed the door open and tentatively stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, the only light emitting from the small lamp on your desk. His eyes softened at the sight of you slumped onto your desk, but quickly hardened at the sight of drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. He sat his wine glass down as quietly as he could on your nightstand and raked his eyes around your cluttered room in search for a blanket. He spotted a quilt neatly folded on your window seat, he unfolded the blanket and draped it over your shoulders. Just as the blanket was settling on your shoulders and he was pulling his hands back, the door flew open. He jumped, spinning around only to be met with the sight of an unsteady Hange. The brunette's eyes widened at the sight of Levi's hand on the back of your seat.

"What..." her eyes narrowed and she pointed between the two of you.

"Is this?" she finished as she stepped into the room, her body swaying unsteadily. Good question, what was he doing in here?

"I came to shut off her light." Levi lied through his teeth, the truth was that he had wanted to spend more time in your presence.

"Lies." Hange hissed as she pointed accusingly at him.

"Tch, believe what you want four eyes." Levi grunted as he stalked across the room, meaning to make a quick get away before she drew too much attention to this fishy situation.

"Hey don't-" she lunged in an attempt to keep Levi from escaping, spilling her glass of wine onto the white carpet and onto Levi's crisp white hoodie. She caught herself on Levi, a drunk giggle bubbling past her lips as she clung to him. Levi staggered under her weight, his back hitting your wall with a dull thud. You grunted, slowly lifting your head from the desk you turned around to see Levi seething under Hange's weight as she pressed against him. Your eyes widened at the sight, Levi was trying to grab the glass from her hand to prevent further spillage, you were so distracted by the rare sight of Levi and Hange in such close proximity that you didn't notice the quilt falling off your shoulders. You blinked dumbly at the two of them as they grappled for the wine glass, Levi ultimately winning due to Hange's drunken state.

"Levi was peeping on you while you slept." Hange blurted, Levi slammed his hand over her mouth and snarled. You weren't surprised when Levis pulled his hand back with a small gasp, you could just make out the sheen of what you assumed was Hange's drool over his palm. The brunette cackled and staggered away from him and out of the room.

"I'm going to tell Erwin." she sang as she stumbled through the hall with her hand on the wall to guide her.

"Hange don't, it's okay really." you called after her, but your words fell on deaf ears as she rounded the stairs and disappeared.

"Damn it." Levi hissed, his eyes trained on the stain on the ground, he pulled the sweat shirt off of his skin, the alcohol sticking to his skin. You cleared your throat awkwardly as Levi pulled the sweatshirt off. You glanced at the stairs, no sign of Hange and Erwin yet, you could hear the sound of the group stumbling around the kitchen. Hopefully Hange had forgotten and favored grabbing another drink over causing trouble, so you stood up and crossed your room to quietly shut the door. Levi had his head against the wall, his eyes closed expecting an onslaught of accusations. Instead he was surprised to see you digging through your closet, pulling out one of your larger sweatshirts you tossed it to him. He caught the garment and eyed is suspiciously before tugging it over his head.

"Thanks." he mumbled, you waved him off and crossed your room to sit down on your bed.

"What's up?" you questioned, it was certainly out of character for him to be in your room. Levi shrugged and slowly crossed the room to drop down onto your bed next to you.

"Your light was on and I came in to shut it off." Levi replied nonchalantly, his eyes dull as he watched you slip under your covers. A chill ran up your spine, your room always got cold in the winter due to the large windows. After a moment of awkward silence you patted the space beside you, Levi quirked a brow at you but when you smiled at him he slid closer to you. He settled against the headboard with a sigh, you looked up at him, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw and the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. He turned and raised a brow skeptically at you, you giggled and turned to slip deeper under your covers. He scoffed but turned to face you, propping himself up on his elbow. From this close proximity you could smell the wine on his breath, you noticed that his pupils were dilated, and his cheeks flushed.

"Thanks...I guess." you muttered as you watched him reach into his pockets and pull out his juul and take a hit. You frowned as he turned his head away from you to exhale, he sighed contentedly and turned to face you once more.

"You're going to get me in trouble." you scoffed as he attempted to offer you the juul.

"You only live once." he smirked as he dangled the device in your face. You gently pushed his hand away from your face, he shrugged and took another drag.

"Are you sleeping over?" you questioned, he simply nodded and pocketed his juul.

"It's like three in the morning." he scoffed rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Oh, I guess..." you trailed off, the house had grown quiet, hopefully Hange had been dragged to bed by Erwin and had long forgotten about snitching on Levi. You weren't sure what Levi was still doing in your bed, you knew that he wouldn't force himself on you, but still he had never spend this much time alone with you since the time you had kissed. Just as you were about to ask him why he was still in your room, you heard the sound of the front door opening and then quickly closing. Your mother was home, you shoved Levi's shoulder and motioned for him to get out of your bed, a surge of panic rushing through you. Your mom would kill you if she saw Levi in your bed this late. Levi grunted and rolled off the bed, landing heavily on the ground with a thud. You winced and pointed at the door, Levi opened his mouth to say something but ultimately turned and stalked towards the door. When he opened the door, he was met with the tired face of your mother. Her eyes widened at the unexpected sight of Levi.

"Oh, Levi.." she managed to keep her voice even as she took in his appearance, his hair a bit mussed, cheeks pink and wearing your clothes.

"It's not what it looks like mom!" you scrambled out of bed and pushed Levi away from the doorway so that you could address your mother.

"Really..." she narrowed her eyes skeptically as her eyes roamed over your pajamas and messy hair. You grimaced but nodded, she glared at you and heaved a heavy sigh, turning her attention to Levi.

"So your uncle told me that you wouldn't be coming to Christmas this year?" she swiftly changed the subject. Levi blinked, shocked that she had chosen to ignore the suspicious state she had found the two of you in.

"Y-Yeah that's true, I finally saved enough to visit my old friends in France for the holidays." he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Is that so?" she hummed, leaning against the door frame and tugging her light jacket closer to her body. Levi nodded and spared you a glance, you looked surprised, but not upset.

"Well that sounds amazing, you'll have to send us a postcard." she mused, Levi nodded and shifted awkwardly.

"Yes ma'm." he responded, your mother nodded pleased with his response.

"How long will you be gone for?" she probed.

"Until January 8th." Levi answered.

"That's a long time." you quipped, Levi glanced at you and nodded.

"How exciting." your mother's response was genuine, she stepped aside allowing him to pass.

"Yeah." he muttered as he slid past and made his way towards the stairs. Once he was out of sight your mother turned to you, her usually soft features pinching into a scowl.

"Explain." she snapped, pointing a finger at the sizable wine stain.

"Hange spilled it, I'll clean it in the morning." you sighed as you eyed the large purple spot.

"Alright, just make sure that it gets cleaned." your mother leaned forward and kissed your forehead. You smiled at her, it was unusual that you got to see her after her shift.

"How was work?" you asked as you eyed her scrubs, noting a mystery stain on her shirt.

"Messy." she sighed as she followed your gaze.

"Did you save lots of lives?" you giggled.

"Of course." your mother jabbed.

"Get some sleep (Y/n)." she hummed, her hand burying into your messy hair to ruffle it affectionately.

"Goodnight mom." you called after her as she descended the staircase, she waved her hand and you slowly shut the door.

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