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persphonesorchid · 2 years

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Cupid’s On Holiday - KSJ

Summary: You don't get it, you're a damn catch. Anyone would be lucky to have you. You're smart, you're tidy, hell you'd give up your own kidney to a homeless guy if he needed it that bad. So what the issue? Failed relationships, blind date after blind date, and now your friend's competitive archery teammate is telling you he's Cupid here to help you find your one true love. You're not that desperate. He could take those golden arrows and shove 'em.

Genres: Angel!Au | Fluff, angst, smut, slight enemies to lovers, humor.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, smut (fingering, protected sex), Oc's a bit of a downer but hey! Aren't we all sometimes! If I missed anything, let me know!

Rating: Mature (Minors, please, go away.)

Word count: 17k

Masterlist

Notes: A little late, but I made it before Saturday! I really really hope you guys enjoy this!! My contribution to @raplinesmoon , @kithtaehyung and @joheunsaram 's Catch Of The Century Collab! It's been a bit of a struggle to write, so show it some love! Also, you won't understand what I mean yet, but emotions are valid and you should feel them. Thank you to THE LOMFL @xpeachesncream for beta'ing for me, Nikki I love you so so much! Thank you for being there when I screamed about this fic when lightening struck and hyping me up always. Ly babie ❤️❤️❤️

Don't forget to leave feedback guys!! I'll love to hear your thoughts ( or crazy emotional rambles) Enjoy!!

Serendipity was in full swing; music blasting so loud you can feel it in your chest. Fellow club goers crowding the dance floor in a wild flurry of limbs and ill-timed dancing. You can barely keep up with the conversation Yoongi and Jungkook are having, you’re not even sure how they’re hearing each other over the music.

Clubs typically aren’t your thing, not one for the deafening music or the people who never knew when they had too much to drink. Tonight, though, you made an exception, meeting a friend of a friend for a date you were excited to be on. You thank your lucky stars you had the foresight to grovel at Yoongi’s feet to come with you, lord knows you’d be making your grand escape through the club’s back door by now.

“I mean, it’s not that hard, right?”

“That’s what she said.”

“Dude. Grow up.”

You chuckle into your whiskey as Yoongi rolls his eyes, waving his hand to direct your attention back to him and not on the way Jungkook was snickering. The flashy strobe lights waving mindlessly in the club catch on the silver of Yoongi’s bracelet and he rights his leaning frame, propping an arm on the table between you both.

“All I’m saying is...” He thinks hard for a moment, tilting his head to squint at the ceiling. You could tell he’s gone above his limit tonight; the rosiness of his cheeks visible in the odd flashes of light. “Man up. When he gets back, tell him he’s an ass and we can go home.”

“You know she’d rather die.” Jungkook mutters, draining the end of his beer, adding the empty bottle to the rest that was steadily growing the longer you all sat there. “Too nice.”

“Shit, you’re right.” Yoongi says, brows furrowed as though he’s just heard the most distressing news in his life, “I’ll do it for you. I swear if I have to sit here and listen to that guy ramble on about himself any more I’ll actually walk out into the street and stand there.”

“I don’t find you funny.” You deadpan, kicking your foot against his shin. He only whines, reaching for your bottle of water instead of brandishing his silver tongue at you.

Yoongi takes a long drink, eyes scanning the crowd, “He’s taking a long time to get back from the bathroom.”

Jungkook lifts himself partly out of his seat – having more vantage with his height – and looks around too. “Fou-oh...”

“What?” You perk up, following Jungkook’s gaze, but you’re suddenly blocked by Yoongi, who you didn’t even see get up. He shifts every time you’d move to look around him. You open your mouth to protest, but Yoongi’s hands land firmly on your shoulders.

“How about we just go? It’s late.” The furrow of his brow and the clench of his jaw tells a lot; he’s seen something you’d be better off not seeing at all and you simply agree. You take the hand that he offers, sliding out of the booth and Jungkook follows with a frown.

When you all get outside, Yoongi throws an arm over your shoulder, and you’re grateful for his warmth as the late night air nipped at your skin. You sigh, watching mist dance on your exhale, ducking your head a little to look at your feet. It’s quiet between you three, and you realize belatedly that you should’ve asked Hoseok to come too. He’s always good at distracting you.

Of course, you should have expected it to go this way. Another failed date that’s left you feeling worse than before, you think you’d might as well give up now, resign yourself to growing old and having fifty cats to keep you company. It’s been this way for a while, your last actual relationship being exactly three years and six months ago -- not that you’re counting or anything.

You stayed out of the dating scene for a while, focusing on yourself and being happy and content with who you are first before anything. Because that’s important, you can’t love someone else without loving yourself first. It was a good run anyway, until you became lonely and Yoongi’s dry humor and good cooking no longer sustained you.

You loved him, truly, but you missed the level of intimacy he couldn’t provide you with. Even though you loved when he made a big deal about cuddling and holding your hand – and frankly would rather shoot himself in the foot than say he liked that shit. You’re honestly considering making a pact with him to get married in the next ten years or something. You feel like that’s the only way to get out of whatever curse you’re under.

You don’t know if it’s you, or what. You’ve tried meeting new people, friends of friend’s, strangers from dating apps. Your dating life is quickly going down the drain.

“Hey, get out of there.” Yoongi taps his fingers against your temple, looking a little more sober now, even though his cheeks remain pink from the cold. He frowns at you, pulling you a little bit closer to his side, “Don’t think about it, okay?”

You can’t help it though, it’ll do no good in the long run, you know that. You’ve been feeling all sorts of low, and really you shouldn’t. You don’t need someone next to you to feel complete, to make you feel like the world’s finally spinning on the right axis. You just hate that you feel like you do; everyone around you seems to be happy and with someone and you’re here feeling like the hottest dumpster fire. You want to have rose tinted glasses to wear, too.

You wanted someone to hold hands with that wasn’t Yoongi or Jungkook...or Hoseok whenever he wasn’t working at the bar and using you as his wing-woman. You wanted someone to tell you you’re pretty and not mean it in a totally-best-friend way.

You sigh, long and drawn out, shoulders sagging as you watch the pavement pass by under your feet. The cracks in the gray stone representing the cracks in your love life that’s slowly drifting away like the ashes of the universe post Infinity Snap. Oh, you wished Thanos was actually here to snap you out of existence. You can deal with floating away into nothingness than dealing with the loneliness that’s beginning to cling to the edges of your form.

“How about we stop at the convenience store?” Jungkook suggests, linking his arm with yours, he looks down at you with a soft smile you couldn’t see. “Ramen on me?”

You can’t say no when you look up and catch his smile, dimples and all, and the three of you walk a little faster.

“Damn, everything’s just going up these days.” Yoongi grumbles, reading the label of a vitamin gummy bottle with a frown. You hum, reading your own set of labels listlessly a few feet away.

You’d long lost Jungkook somewhere in the depths of the large convenience store. He’d run off to find something and it’s been five minutes of you and Yoongi walking around and complaining about prices.

Yoongi puts the vitamins back on the shelf, twisting the container until the brand label faces him. You see him glance at you in your peripheral, see him walk a little closer until he stops at your side, “Doing okay?”

You think about it for a fraction of a second and shrug, throwing Yoongi a careless ‘Ok' sign, “Yeah, A-OK.”

You really just want to go home, watch a movie and forget tonight. Maybe you can convince Yoongi to watch that movie with you, and you both can share laughs over more beers and the pistachio flavored ice-cream that Yoongi hates.

The man himself doesn’t look convinced, and it shows in the raise of his eyebrow and the way he studies you. He’s always said you’re like an open book to him and he knows how to read the lines well – as much as you hate that – you appreciate that he says nothing of it.

You know it will come up later, not now while it’s still fresh, but when you least expect it. Yoongi purses his lips at you, shaking his head before tugging you along behind him as he walks on.

“Guys!” Jungkook's call comes from behind you both, and you and Yoongi turn to his approach, and the company he had with him.

The guy trailing behind Jungkook, for the sake of your mind that grinded to a halt at the sight of him, is beautiful. You don’t think you’ve called a man beautiful before, but there’s no other word that you can use. This man with his dark hair, eyes of the deepest brown, perfect plush pink lips and the widest set of shoulders you’ve ever seen.

You stand a little stunned, just staring at him until Yoongi nudges your arm and you realize that Jungkook is speaking. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you, briefly, but you know he’s itching to grill you and you’ll never live it down.

“Guys, this is Seokjin.” Jungkook smiles, waving a hand at his friend, “He’s on the archery team.”

Seokjin bows his head in greeting, “Hello.”

“Jungkook talks about you a lot. It’s nice to put a face to the name.” Yoongi says as you struggle to come up with anything that won’t give away how nervous you suddenly felt.

“This is Yoongi, and Y/n.”

Yoongi nudges your side again and you smile, “Nice to meet you.”

There’s a twitch in his eyebrow as his eyes focus on yours, and for a moment it feels as though he’s looking right through you. He’s looking at you, but his eyes are so intense you feel like you’re under a microscope, or having one of those weird naked dreams and nothing to cover your shame.

It seemed like the moment stretched on for ages, and you’re stuck in a void being watched by someone you can’t see.

Seokjin's lips pull into a smile and when he blinks, you do too. There’s something strange about the air in between the space you occupied, something unfamiliar but at the same time not completely unknown. You’re not quite sure how to feel about it and you’re not sure if the shiver going down your spine was from the AC.

When he looks away from you to look at Jungkook, you lean over to take the basket from Jungkook’s lax fingers – it was filled with way more things than you’d all come in for - announcing that you’re going to check out.

You and Yoongi leave them both talking, walking back to the front of the convenience store where the cashiers were. You’re wondering about what that could’ve been, teeth picking at the skin of your bottom lip, brows furrowed in thought.

“You sure you’re good, right? You seemed a bit gone back there.” Yoongi asks, unloading the contents of Jungkook’s basket onto the counter, shaking his head as he picks up a packet of mint gum and places it with the things.. “Well, actually, you looked stupid – and I don’t mean that in the way it sounds. You just kinda...blanked. Like the second you saw him you went outta your head.”

“Huh...” You look back to where Jungkook and Seokjin are still talking, still feeling watched even though he wasn’t looking. “Kinda felt like it.”

When you finally left the convenience store, a light drizzle had started. Your apartment complex isn’t far, less than five minutes from where you are.

Seokjin had parted from your small group, getting into a fancy black car parked at the curb after bidding you all goodnight.

The walk was quiet until you’d all gotten home, with Jungkook waving a little frantically at his door a good way down the hall. Yoongi made no move to get into his apartment next to yours, watching you fumble with your keys.

“Not going in?” you mumble, looking over your shoulder to catch him waving his phone at you.

“Nah, I’m gonna meet Hobi.” He says, “Need me to stay with you?”

You shake your head. Sometimes you felt as though you treated Yoongi like your therapist, he’s always there to listen when you need to vent, always being the shoulder to cry on. Always a listening ear without complaint.

“I’m okay Yoongi. Promise.” You smile, lifting the plastic bag that Jungkook had so graciously provided you with. “I’m gonna eat my woes away.”

Yoongi sighs, “You know you can’t say you’re okay and then follow with that.”

He steps over to you and hugs you a little awkwardly, patting your back. You appreciate his effort to sacrifice his comfort, even as you laugh a bit. “Text me if you need anything and I’ll come back.”

Relaxing in his hold, you sigh, “D’You think it’s just me? I mea-”

“-No.” Yoongi cuts in, rubbing small, comforting circles against your back, “Men are dicks. It ain’t you, trust me.”

He leans away, hooking his pinkie into the handle of the bag and shakes it a bit, “Eat and get some sleep, okay? Don’t go thinking too much.”

You wait until he’s down the hall and out of your sight to head inside. Kicking your shoes off, you flick on the lights and drag your feet to your small kitchen. You dig through the bag in search of your ramen, finding the chocolate popsicles Jungkook bought you.

Maybe you should talk to Yoongi about that marriage plan of yours. Just so that you’d have something to fall back on, so that later down the road when you’re sixty you’d have grandkids running around and not a few cats instead.

There’s a loud banging on your door that jolts you out of your sleep the next morning. The blackout curtains you’d bought a couple weeks ago were working, you have no idea what time it is. You also have no idea when you’d gotten to bed either, you remember eating the ramen and one of the popsicles.

You remember hearing Yoongi come home, the opening and closing of his door and the clink of his keys against the little bowl with the cat on it that you gave him.

You don’t remember much else, you certainly don’t remember crawling into bed or changing your clothes for that matter.

You groan as the pounding continues, rattling into the empty hallways of your sleepy mind and knocking on every door. Rolling over you pull your pillow with you, covering your head and willing the noise to end. Squinting at the little blue clock on your nightstand and the numbers that squint back, you lay there wondering who’d be knocking on your door this early on a Saturday.

“Police! Open up! I’ve got a warrant.” Jungkook’s muffled, disembodied voice filters through your apartment and you sigh, kicking at your covers because you know if you don’t get up he’ll stand there and ring your phone until you pick up.

Grumbling to yourself, you drag your feet to your front door and open it. Jungkook’s standing there with one hand raised, looking ready to knock again and too bright eyed for the hour. His other hand balances a coffee holder with four cups and a large brown bag.

“Don’t you have practice to get to? It’s seven am.” you step aside to let him in, covering your yawn with a hand.

“Good morning to you, too.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, wiggling the brown bag at you – the brown bag that’s doing a great job of concealing its contents. “I brought breakfast.”

You’re moving to close the door when a hand stops the motion and Hoseok’s poking his head into your entrance hallway.

His eyes are bright, even though he’s not a morning person, and his smile is brighter when he sees you, as it always is. He pushes the door open as you step back to allow it, coming in to wrap his lanky arms around you. “Heard your night sucked ass.”

His fingers tangle in the mess that is your bed head, but he doesn’t let go of you even as he tries to free them. He rubs circles into your back, and sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” You laugh into his sweatshirt, the old one he kept from college even though it’s fraying at the edges and the blue isn’t as blue anymore. The one you threw up on the night Yoongi lost you in a crowd of college freshmen and you didn’t know your ass from your elbow.

“Someone has to, you know?”

Yoongi’s the last to come through your open doorway, shutting the door behind him, looking like he’d barely slept, dark hair sticking up at odd angles.

He frowns at you both, “Guys, c’mon. You’re blocking the way.” He pushes lightly at Hoseok’s back, making him walk forward still clinging to you.

“You’re gonna make me trip!” You laugh, trying to wiggle your way out of his hold. When you’re free of Hoseok’s cuddling, you trail after Yoongi and into the kitchen where Jungkook’s pulling carefully wrapped bagels out of the bag.

“What’s the catch, Jeon?” You ask, knowing that he should be on his way to practice right now. Not that you don’t trust the guy, it’s just that normally if Jungkook has practice, you won’t see him until it’s over and he’s back in the building.

“Can’t I just be nice and bring my best friend breakfast from her favorite cafe?”

“There’s always a catch.” Yoongi says as he plops down into a chair at your small kitchen table and Jungkook makes an offended sound at the back of his throat. Yoongi shrugs, pulling a coffee free from the holder and passes it to you.

“What do you need this time?” Taking the coffee from Yoongi, you take the seat next to him and Jungkook gives you one of the bagels.

“Can you drive me to practice today?”

Hoseok ruffles your hair as he passes, leaning around Jungkook to grab a coffee and a bagel for himself while Jungkook neatly folds the brown bag. “I’d take him but I gotta be at the studio in an hour...”

You hum waving a hand, “No worries.”

It’s ten am by the time you return back to your apartment. You’d stopped at the grocery store to pick up things you needed and had no choice but to lug all the bags up at once.

You would’ve liked to make trips, which you would usually do going up and down the elevator and getting weird looks from old Mrs Bailey two floors down. The elevator was once again getting serviced and you curse the stupid machine to the high heavens.

You take one step at a time, the weight of the bags digging uncomfortably into your fingers. You’re sure they’re red by now and you groan thinking about the way they’ll cramp up when you put the bags down.

“Need help?”

You almost drop your bags, body jerking in place as you stop to look behind you.

Seokjin is standing a few steps down on the platform between the flights, and you find it just a bit strange that you hadn’t heard him; footsteps echo in the stairwell. You don’t think much of it though; Yoongi walks like a cat and you can never tell when he’s behind you either.

You look down at the bags in your hands, giving Seokjin a light smile. “Yes please.”

He jogs up the remaining stairs to meet you, and you envy the bounce of his dark hair that falls perfectly back into place. He’s dressed more casually today, with a loose white tee-shirt tucked into black jeans. He gently takes the bags from one hand and reaches for the other.

“Oh, I’ve got these.” You chuckle the sound awkward to your own ears and you want the floor to open up and swallow you. Seokjin thankfully says nothing of it, though.

“Which floor are you on?”

“The one above us.”

“Oh really?” Seokjin smiles at you and waves his free hand, “Howdy neighbor.”

You blink at him, a little confused, “Huh?”

“I moved in this morning!” He’s already walking up and you step quickly to follow. “you know the apartment just before the staircase?”

“That’s great! It’s been empty for years. Hobi thinks it’s haunted because he says he keeps hearing noises.”

Seokjin laughs at that, the sound bouncing off the walls of the stairwell. His laugh’s kind of squeaky and it makes you laugh, too.

You both share a light conversation going up the last staircase, and it isn’t as awkward as you thought it’d be. It’s certainly better than last night when you tripped over your tongue just to say hi back.

Seokjin’s presence is oddly calming. Despite being a stranger, it feels as though you’ve been friends for a while. He’s telling you about how he’s planning on decorating his apartment while walking to yours, and asking your opinion on paint colors.

“White always makes a room look bigger. Could be too plain though, if you’re not into that.” You say, fishing your keys from the pocket of your jeans. He places the bags at your feet when you asked him to, “Thank you,”

“No problem,” He gives a smile, a small one that puffs up his cheeks. “Well...I better get going...lots to do.”

“Of course! Bye then.”

“If I don’t see you around, I’ll see you square.” With a very serious expression, Seokjin shoots you some finger-guns before walking away, laughing at his own joke.

You shake your head, chuckling to yourself as you unlock your door.

You throw yourself on Yoongi’s couch, which by the way, was way bigger than yours and way more comfortable.

You groan into the throw pillow, smacking your hand against the cushions. “Yoongi. You traitor. Who’s hand am I supposed to hold now?”

“Hobi’s always available for hand holding.” Yoongi mumbles, barely paying you mind as he gets ready to go out on a date. A Date! How dare he.

“His hand doesn’t get sweaty like yours does!” You turn your head, pressing your cheek against the pillow, “This is absolute betrayal. I’ll never ever forgive you.”

“Quit being dramatic.” Yoongi sighs, fastening the clip of a silver chain around his neck. You pout at him from your spot. “It’s only the first date. If it falls through you’re welcome to hold my hand for the rest of our lives.”

Yoongi doesn’t date often, you honestly can’t remember the last time he even mentioned having one to begin with. You kinda feel bad about your whining, only because you feel bad that everyone’s suddenly finding significant others while you suffer.

“I’m joking.” You say, sitting up, “You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi smiles, all cute and gummy. “Now get out, I’m leaving.” He helps you up off the couch, grabbing his keys from the coffee table.

“You’re so rude!” You trail after him anyway, following him out his apartment. As he locks his door you poke his side, “What’s her name anyway?”

“Justine.” He glances at you, “Jungkook didn’t tell you? She’s on his archery team.”

“You met her through that rascal?” You scoff, crossing your arms, “You guys never tell me anything. When did you even have time to meet them?”

“Hey, I do other things when I’m not hanging out with you.” He walks you to your door, patting his pockets to make sure he has everything. “I’ll call you if I need to make a run for it.”

“Just go!” You push at his arm, waving goodbye, “Let me know how it goes!”

Yoongi’s in the elevator when he finally waves back, and you stay standing there long after the metal doors shut. Staring at your door, you sigh, you’re happy for him, really. Everyone else shouldn’t suffer with you.

“Hello.”

You startle, a frightened screech leaving you as you turn. The person behind you yells, too, backing away from you with wide eyes.

You press a hand to your chest and take a deep breath, “Dude. My heart almost fell out of my ass. Why are you sneaking up on me?”

“Why’d you scream like that? You scared me!” Seokjin presses his back against the wall behind him, a hand against his chest also.

He relaxes, hands dropping at his sides, and you do the same, laughing a bit at the situation.

“Did you need something?” You ask, watching as he steps closer.

“Actually.” He puts a finger up, “I came to make you an offer you can’t possibly refuse.”

“Huh?”

Seokjin straightens his form, smiling again, “I can help you.”

You blink, looking off to the side before your eyes settle on him again, “....help me with?”

Seokjin looks a little confused now, brows furrowing and he puts his hands behind his back and chuckles. “Your problem.”

When you stare at him blankly he sighs, “I can help you find the one you’re destined for.”

“Are you drunk?”

“What? No. I’m not drunk. I’m being serious!” He says, shaking his head, “Why do I always have to do this? I hate this part.”

He’s talking to himself now, and you’re trying to slot your key into your lock without him noticing. Maybe he is drunk, or maybe he’s one of those salespeople who try to talk you into buying shady things.

He suddenly looks at you and you freeze, giving a slow, awkward smile. “Um. Whatever it is... I’m okay. You should go lie down or something.”

“I’m not drunk.” Seokjin repeats, “Your friend went out on a date right? I saw him on the way up.”

That’s weird. Yoongi only left a few minutes ago, if Seokjin took the stairs there’s no way he would’ve seen him.

“I can help you with that. Getting a date, I mean.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Not me, no.” He seems to think for a moment, “I’m actually the only person that can help you. I’m a Cupid. And it’s my job to steer you in the right direction so you can find that person.”

You laugh and he frowns, but what else are you supposed to do? He looks completely serious, and you wave a hand at him.

“Okay.” You say even though you don’t believe him, giving him a thumbs up, “That’s nice. I’m gonna go...and you can go lay down, okay?”

You turn quickly, opening your door and slipping inside. You leave him standing there, shutting the door behind you.

“...oh-kay...”

“I’m so tired.” You press your forehead against the cool wooden table. This isn’t really the way you’d like to spend your Monday afternoon, sitting in a café trying to finish up an article due next week.

The café you frequented is a bit crowded today, some either coming in to get their fix of hot drinks to battle the autumn chill outside, or either just taking in the scenery. There really isn’t much to take in, the cafe is a small hole in the wall on a street corner, with wet roads and people passing by outside.

There’s a park across the street that looks better in the spring, empty now that it’s getting colder and winter’s on the cusp.

You raise your head to stare at your half completed article. Cursor blinking mockingly against the white backdrop of the open word document. At least it’s due by next Friday, you have time to wallow in the writer’s block that’s been plaguing you for days now.

You stare out the window and sigh, watching the people and the cars pass by, watching the light rain that’s been doing nothing but falling all morning. You thought that getting out of your apartment would’ve been better, a change of scenery to help you finish your work. Now that you’re sitting in this crowded café, it’s difficult to concentrate, you don’t know how the college kids do it.

You’re quite bored by yourself, usually, your friend from work, Brinny would be with you. If you’re not working, you could at least pass the time with some gossip or some sort of stimulating conversation. Brinny had to be at the office today, and honestly didn’t have time to meet with you, so you’re stuck struggling alone.

“Y/n?”

You turn your head at the call of your name, the barista behind the counter is waving you over. “Your coffee’s ready.”

Getting up, you hobble over, reaching the counter to take your coffee. The barista smiles at you, closed lipped with dimples you want to sink your fingers into.

Namjoon was new, and you’re glad to see he’s getting the hang of things. You’ve seen the guy spill more coffee beans than he grinds and he’s burned himself so many times that you’ve been permanently worried.

You’ve also seen him staring, always when he thinks you’re not looking. You’ve had a few conversations with him on days when the cafe isn’t so busy, he’d always have some quote from a writer you’ve never heard of or he’d talk to you about art. He’s nice.

He’s cute. Even as he fumbles now to let you know that he put an extra shot of espresso in your coffee because you look tired.

You thank him with a sweet smile before going back to your seat, hoping to remember to leave him a tip.

You sit, squinting at the time displayed on the clock widget of your laptop screen, glancing over at Namjoon again who’s busy behind the counter. Maybe you should take matters into your own hands and just ask him out. Might lead somewhere, hell, you might even have a great time.

“I mean...”

Your head whips around to the person who’s suddenly sitting opposite you. Seokjin looks fashionable in a black coat over a white turtleneck sweater as he pulls a burgundy scarf from around his neck. He’s looking at Namjoon too, squinting at the man. “He’s nice and all but it won’t work out, trust me.”

“Are you stalking me?” You ask, still a little shocked because you didn’t see him approach, you didn’t even hear the chair move. He’s just there.

Seokjin chuckles deeply, the sound a far cry from his high laugh. He turns to look at you, “Me? No. I was just passing by and saw you. Thought I should say hi.”

“Hi. You can go now.”

“Wow.” Seokjin presses a hand to his chest, faux hurt morphing his features, “You wound me.”

“Seriously. Why are you here? Because it kinda looks like you’re stalking me.” You lean back into your chair, crossing your arms.

Seokjin tilts his head at you, expression serious as he simply stares. His eyes are intense, like the night you met him and you know that the shiver that runs through you isn’t from the cold; the café is warm.

“I’m honestly trying to help you.” He says after a while, expression unchanging.

“Right. ‘Cause you’re Cupid?”

“A Cupid. We are many.” He corrects you, putting a finger up. “Trust me, asking Namjoon out is gonna do more harm than it’s worth. Some things are just meant to happen in passing.”

You sigh harshly through your nose, closing down your laptop to stare at him without it in the way. “Listen.”

“You had a really great opportunity to say “Lend me your ear!”. I find that wording more effective in catching my attention, but I digress; speak away.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath as his laugh fills the silence between you. Funny, just Saturday morning you were thinking he was kind of cute with his stupid jokes and his finger-guns and his stupid laugh. Now he’s getting on your nerves and he’s beginning to give you the creeps with how persistent he is about this Cupid thing.

It's always the pretty ones.

“Okay, look.” You raise a hand because you can see he’s about to open his stupid mouth to say something even more stupid. He gives you his full attention, leaning in a bit like he’s waiting to hear the secret to DaVinci’s code. “Do you...perhaps have a psychiatrist I can call for you? Or a guardian?”

His expectant expression drops, he looks agitated now and you’ll take that as a small victory. “I’m not craz....” Trailing off, he slumps back into his seat, “I give up. Why do I always get stuck with the stubborn ones? I’m just trying to do my job.”

He’s talking to himself again, loud enough for you to hear him. He waves a hand at you, looking out the window petulantly, “Do as you wish. Ask him out. I’ll be swinging by to say ‘I told you so’ when it crashes and burns.”

“You know. You definitely can’t be Cupid with that attitude.”

“A Cupid. It’s not just me.” He huffs, sucking his teeth, “Why am I even still here talking to you?”

“I could ask you the same thing, really.”

Seokjin side eyes you, slowly turning his head in a way that you decided at that moment was quite unnatural. There’s something weird about the motion, he’s weird, and that’s all there is to it. He’s no Cupid, and honestly kind of curious about what made him think he was.

“Go for it then.” He waves a hand in Namjoon’s direction, “Don’t let me stop you.”

You feel petty, but you also feel the indescribable need to prove him wrong, so you get up, chair scraping against the floor. “Fine. Watch me.”

Seokjin gives you an unimpressed look, sighing as though you’re the one making his life difficult.

You march your way over to the counter, now that the rush died down, Namjoon’s just sitting idly in a corner, phone in hand. He looks up at your approach, smiling sweetly.

“Hey, need something?” He asks, getting up from the chair he occupied to meet you at the counter.

“Um..” Abort. Abort! Namjoon is looking at you patiently, waiting as you wipe your suddenly sweaty hands on your jeans. You take a breath, “Are you free on Friday?”

“Huh? Y-yeah. I could be?” He looks just as nervous as you do, another small victory; you’re not alone! “Why?”

“I was thinking that maybe we can get a drink? If you’re okay with it?”

“Oh! Yeah. I’d like that, yeah. Let me just... I’ll write my number down for you.” Smiling, he goes around to the other end of the counter, looking for a paper to write on before giving up and grabbing a napkin.

You turn, ready to rub your pettiness into Seokjin’s face but he’s gone. And so is your coffee.

“Dude I mean...are you sure?” Yoongi looks skeptical, raising a dark brow at you as he wipes down a table. He settles chairs into their rightful spots, stuffing napkins into the fancy napkin holders. “Last week you were literally ready to cry over a failed date and you asked a guy out?”

“I was not.” You say, “Water on a duck’s back my friend. This guy’s actually nice, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t go off with some other chick halfway through our date.”

“Well, I thought that you’d just give it a bit of time before going again.” He pauses to look at you, halfway across the empty bar, folding the cloth he was using. “I know you want what everyone else seems to be getting – I’ve noticed it too, lots of couples running around like it’s valentines or something. But I think you should just wait it out.”

“Yoongi.” You whine his name, laying your head against your arm. “I’m not getting any younger.”

“I know.” Yoongi smiles at the offended sound you make, “Everything happens on its own time, sweetheart. Just gotta be patient. Wait a little.”

“But what if I just wait forever?” You mumble, picking at the skin around your fingernails.

“I didn’t say it for you to get sad, you know.” Yoongi walks over to you, he smiles gently, “If you wait forever then I’ll meet you at the end. You can hold my hand while we wait together..” He offers his hand to you, wiggling his fingers.

You give a watery laugh, taking his hand with a sniffle, “That was so corny.”

“Tell anyone and I’ll kill you.”

When seven pm rolls around you’re sitting at the bar, sipping on a rum coke that Yoongi gave you to calm your nerves.

The bar’s a little quiet, but you know that it’ll get rowdier as the hours go on. Yoongi’s sitting opposite you, picking at his nails in his boredom.

“I hope tonight doesn’t get busy. Hobi couldn’t come out cause he has some dance things to finalize...”

“It’s Friday, though...” You point to the door with a tilt of your head as a group walks in. Looking fresh out of the office in their business suits and briefcases. Yoongi sighs, hopping off his stool to go greet them.

You spot Namjoon coming through the door next, pulling headphones out his ears and smiling when he sees you. He reaches you in a few long strides, sitting next to you with a soft greeting.

You catch Yoongi’s double take, and the raise of his eyebrows but think nothing of it.

In the hour that goes by, the bar picks up and Yoongi has company behind the counter. Namjoon has you giggling and blushing every time he looks at you, you’d like to think this is going well.

You do the normal routine, getting to know each other, trading jokes. He’s easy to talk to and you like that.

He and Yoongi go way back – Or so he’s told you. You didn’t know this, but when does Yoongi actually tell you anything? – and they make easy conversation while he works. You’re not getting the looks Yoongi keeps trying to send you, though. You’re usually in tune with each other’s signals, but Yoongi’s been sending up smoke all night, because what does he even mean?

“You guys need anything?” Yoongi comes over for the third time, nodding at your empty glass.

“I’m good, thanks.” You wave him away, why’d he keep interrupting?

Yoongi sighs, moving away to help Jimin bring out more glasses from the back room.

“This was nice. I don’t get out much...” Namjoon says, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. “I uh...wanted to ask you something...”

“Sure, what’s up?”

Namjoon looks a little nervous, playing with his fingers. “You know, last week when you came to the cafe? It was Wednesday, I think... You came with someone... Brunette about yay high?”

You know who he’s talking about before he actually asks. You sip on your rum coke just so you’d have something to do, watching as Namjoon gives a height estimate with a hand.

“You mean Brinny? Yeah...she works with me.”

You don’t blame him, Brinny’s a darling, an absolute angel. You feel like a complete clown, though. Maybe you’re cursed, or maybe you’ve pissed off some wrathful god in your past life.

You didn’t mean to visibly deflate, really you didn’t , but honestly, you’re tired. You feel like you’re stuck in an endless loop of ‘yeah, this isn’t gonna work out.’.

Namjoon pauses, eyes widening, “Oh God. This wasn’t a date was it?”

Ah, ignorance is bliss indeed. He looks genuinely worried, a crinkle between his brows as they furrow. Eyes round and a hand reaching out hesitantly, like he’s not sure he’s allowed to touch you even if he seeks to comfort you.

“What?” You snort, smacking his arm playfully. It’s the only way you can ease out of it so you don’t burst into tears in front of him. “No way! You’re a cool guy. I can totally put in a good word for you. Brinny’s nice.”

If Namjoon isn’t convinced - and you’re pretty damn sure he isn’t – he doesn’t show it. He nods slowly, smiling a little – a lot – awkwardly at you before throwing back the whiskey in his glass.

“Hey, slow down a bit, yeah?” Yoongi covers the top of your glass with a hand, frowning at you. You stare at his hand, at the rings that glint in the soft lighting of the bar with a pout. He quickly pulls it to him when you reach for it and instead passes you a bottle of water. “Drink this, sober up.”

“D’wanna.” You slur, leaning forward to press your forehead against the cool bar top. Yoongi taps your arm, and you make a disgruntled sound at the back of your throat raising your head with some effort. You prop your chin in your palm and blink slowly at him. “I wanna not exist right now. I’m so embarrassed!”

“It wasn’t that bad.” Yoongi scoffs, twisting the cap off the bottled water, he presses it firmly to your hand. The bar eventually died down, unusual for a Friday but you’re thankful. A whole lot less people to witness your downward spiral into self pity with the help of Yoongi’s fancy drinks. “I swear I thought you knew. I was trying to tell you.”

“What am I supposed to do with your blank ass stare, Min Yoongi?”

“Just drink the water.”

Yoongi leaves you be, walking away to greet someone that waved him over. You stare at the bottle with a frown before picking it up and downing nearly half. “Cupid must be on a holiday or something.”

“I wish.” Seokjin plops himself onto the barstool next to you, and you groan, because he’s the last person you want to see. You hadn’t seen him all week since you asked Namjoon out for drinks, you were just starting to get comfortable. “I could be somewhere nice and sunny right now. Instead I’m stuck looking after you.”

“How are you literally appearing out of nowhere?” You ask, a little sober now, enough to question the way he just randomly popped in.

“I’ve been trying to tell you, but all you do is call me names and hurt my feelings.” Seokjin rolls his eyes, “Enough about me though, I want to hear about your date.” He gives a cocky smile and you really want to punch it right off his pretty face.

“There’s nothing to tell.” You grumble, and Seokjin chuckles.

“I told you so.” He says, shrugging, “You wouldn’t listen.”

“That was a coincidence.” Your throat burns.

“Or was it?” Seokjin nudges your shoulder with his, “Why are you so stubborn?”

“Why are you so annoying?” You fire back and he purses his lips, raising a perfect brow at you. “I really think you’re stalking me. How’d you know I’d be here?”

“I was just passing by.”

“Right.” You huff, rolling your eyes before leaning forward, “I’m gonna be alone forever.”

“Well, if you’d let me actually do my job you won’t have to worry about that.”

Something hot is burning behind your eyes, throat tightening. You’re once again asking if you’re doing something wrong. You don’t get it, you’re a damn catch! Anyone would be lucky to have you.

You sniffle, swirling the water around in the bottle as tears blurs your vision.

“Please don’t cry.” Seokjin says, but it’s not at all comforting. It comes out in a ‘Are you serious?’ kind of way that only makes you want to cry even more, so you hop off the stool, shooting Yoongi a text on your way out of the bar.

You’re quite aware of Seokjin trailing behind you like he’s got nowhere else to be. Your phone vibrates somewhere in the depths of your bag but you ignore it, promising that you’ll just let Yoongi know when you get home.

“Can you stop following me?” You stop, turning around to face Seokjin.

“We live in the same apartment building!” He points in the direction you’re walking, rolling his eyes, “Is it a crime to go home now?”

“Well can you at least not walk so damn close to me? You’re giving me the creeps.” Turning on your heel you continue walking, and thankfully, Seokjin doesn’t follow until you’re at least five steps ahead.

“My offer still stands, you know!” There’s no reason for him to shout, but he’s doing it anyway. “This’ll keep happening if you don’t accept it!”

You stop walking again, bowing your head to stare at the concrete below your feet. His footsteps slow and stop too, waiting.

“If...If I say yes. Would you leave me the hell alone?” You sigh, looking over your shoulder at him. He’s standing a few steps behind, hands in the pockets of his coat.

“No, but I can leave you alone for the rest of the night if you want.”

You tilt your head back, looking up at the overcast sky. Hoping for it to open up and give you the answer to all your problems. Honestly, what do you have to lose? Best that could happen is that he actually leaves you alone after this and you can go back to figuring it out on your own. Even though you’d already tried that and well...yeah.

“Fine.” You mutter softly, and Seokjin jogs over to you quicker than you can make sense of his movements. “I accept your stupid offer.”

“Finally.” Seokjin smiles, prettily, the glow of the street lamp looks like a halo above his head and for a second, you really believe that he’s an angel. He sticks out a hand, “You have to shake on it.”

“Are you serious?” You deadpan, staring at his hand as though it offended you.

“Yes.” There’s mirth in his eyes and you think he’s pulling your leg, but you shake his hand anyway. “Great! I’ll see you in the morning then.”

You look down at your hand as he walks away, grimacing, “You’re so weird.”

When you look up, Seokjin is gone and you’re standing on the sidewalk completely alone.

True to his word, you didn’t see Seokjin for the rest of the night. You’d gotten home, stared at his closed door for a while, having half a mind to knock and ask exactly what you’d gotten yourself into.

You thought that, yes, finally, he’ll leave you alone for good. That today when you had woken up bright and early, you’d be able to get some work done, maybe even clean up the apartment a bit.

You couldn’t be happier to work from home, even though it offers more distractions than you're able to deal with, it’s better to write from the comfort of your own home.

Though, Monday you had to be in the office to discuss some things with your team manager. You know that he’s going to ask about how your article is coming along, so you want enough of it finished by then.

You’re sipping on your coffee, content to watch the world wake up from behind your window, and there’s someone knocking at your door.

Sighing you place your cup on the coffee table, taking your sweet time to walk even as the knocks get insistent. You’re expecting Jungkook at the other side, or Yoongi coming over to give you a piece of his mind for bailing on him last night.

It’s just Seokjin, though. Standing there in black track pants and a white sweater, dark blue recurve bow in hand.

“Isn’t that dangerous to walk around with?”

“Not unless you’re my target.” Seokjin smiles, “Get ready, you’re coming with me.”

“I don’t think so, I have a lot of things to do today.”

“You really don’t.” He taps your forehead with a finger, but you’re not quite sure what he means by that. “Please hurry. I don’t want to be late.”

He races back down the hall, stopping to knock on Jungkook’s door before heading to his own apartment.

“Tell me again why I needed to drive you two?” You grumble, car slowing to a stop in the parking lot of Straight Arrow Archery Center. Jungkook gets out with a quick thanks, jogging through the parking lot.

“So I can start today, the quicker I get this done, the quicker I’ll be out of your hair.” Seokjin takes his time getting his things from the backseat, “C’mon.”

He waits until you're out of the car, rocking back on his heels before he marches across the parking lot. You’re following with quicker steps, trying to keep up with his longer strides.

The local archery range was owned by their coach, and they practice indoors when they’re not in the back field during the colder months. A big looming building, with large windows and chipping paint. You’ve only been inside a couple of times, once when Jungkook’s team was going against a team from the city over.

The heat’s blasting in the building, and you rub your hands together to help them warm up faster. Seokjin leads you through the front entrance of the building, where they have different types of bows mounted on the walls. There’s a board behind the counter, pinned full of photos of past teams and flyers about the center and archery safety.

The back room where the range actually is, some of the archers are taking practice shots or sitting against the back wall getting ready. You see Jungkook securing his quiver to his waist, joking with some of his teammates.

“Are you any good?” You ask Seokjin just to taunt and he purses his lips at you, leading you over to one of the many benches scattered around the range.

You sit and watch him set his bow up, attaching the stabilizers, sight and clicker to the front of the bow. He slips the chest guard over his head, sliding his arm through the loop, when he’s securing the arm guard against his forearm he finally answers you.

“I can shoot an apple off your head blindfolded.” He winks, “If you get hungry or anything, there’s a vending machine outside.” With that he jogs off at the call of the coach, the rest of the team following behind.

“Alright you guys, we all know that winter’s coming up, so we have a couple of weeks left to train up for the last competition. After that, we have some time off before the regionals in February.” The coach says, clapping her hands, “So! During these last weeks, I’ll be picking six of you for the competition!”

You watch on, genuinely interested in what’s being said. Jungkook had mentioned regionals a few times, talking about his excitement and nerves. The coach goes on a moment more about what she expects from her team and a few changes for meeting dates.

“Alright, let’s do our best today!” She says, waving them off, “Teams of three please. Seokjin, you’re up first.”

You perk up more, eyes following Seokjin’s movements as he stands behind a marker taped to the ground. He pulls an arrow from the quiver at his hip, the fletching and nock a shimmering gold that catches the overhead lights. He nocks the arrow, pulling the string back to his cheek and aims.

When he releases, you barely see the arrow cut through the air, you only hear the sharp whistle and the dull thump of it hitting the target dead center. The team claps and you’re not far enough to miss their mutterings as Seokjin walks forward to retrieve his arrow.

“He’s so cool!”

Half an hour later, you’re scrolling through your phone, finally answering the million and one texts Yoongi sent you last night.

Seokjin’s skill with the bow honestly surprised you, the way he’d nock and fire off arrows with inhuman precision was actually terrifying. It almost had you believing his little tirade, just almost, you’d yet to be convinced by his claims of being Cupid.

Part of you does believe him, though, as much as you’d hate to even think it. There’s just something strange about him. The way he’d seemingly appear from nowhere, disappear without a sound and – you truly believe that it was a coincidence – the way he knew that pursuing Namjoon would not be in your favor. There’s honesty in his eyes when he speaks of it, either you’re easy to be swayed or he honest to God believes he’s Cupid.

A Cupid, your mind berates and you scowl, shaking your head.

“I didn’t think you’d stick around.” Jungkook sits on the bench next to you, digging around his duffle bag, “I can take the bus back you know?”

“I know, I’m actually waiting for Mr Sharpshooter over there.” You wave your hand in a vague direction, not too certain where Seokjin was standing.

Jungkook nudges your shoulder, “I see how it is.” He wiggles his eyebrows, “I’m definitely taking the bus home.”

“Now why would you say that?” You raise a brow, pocketing your phone, “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not that.”

“Sure it isn’t.” He over exaggeratedly winks, quieting to unwrap a sandwich and take a bite. “He’s pretty cool, though. I approve. He’ll have a hard time with Yoongi though...” He says through his mouthful, brows creased - a little angrily - as he chews.

“There’s nothing to approve!” You push his shoulder while he laughs, almost choking on his sandwich. “Kook. Can I ask you something?”

“Hm, yeah. What’s it?”

“Have you actually ever spoken about Seokjin before?” You think about how strange it is, Yoongi mentioned that Jungkook’s spoken of Seokjin before. Now that you’ve asked the question, you realise that you’ve never once heard of him. Most of the time if you’re not by yourself, you’re with the guys, and they aren’t usually by themselves either. Though, it could be nothing, could have been a conversation you weren’t privy to, just something you missed.

Jungkook rarely talks about his practices, unless something big happens, like the regionals announcement or when he wouldn’t let you, Yoongi or Hoseok forget that he fired the winning arrow during the summer semi’s even though you were all there to witness it. Seokjin’s never once come up, you don’t think.

You don’t remember seeing Seokjin in the times you’ve visited the Range or at any of the competitions, though, he seems to be well acquainted with everyone, and no one thinks it’s strange.

Jungkook stops mid bite, brows furrowing out of confusion now – and not because he really likes his sandwich – he nods, slowly.

“Yeah? I think so...” He doesn’t sound as though he believes his own words, “Yup, yeah. Definitely did.” He nods more surely, “....I think?”

“Are you sure? Because...”

“Bad mouthing me? I’ve only been gone thirty minutes, that’s rude.”

You look up to find Seokjin watching you with a raised brow. He unclips the belt at his waist to remove the quiver before he sits down, squinting at you. “What?”

“Nothing...it’s nothing...” You quickly look back to your phone, replying to Yoongi’s recent text.

“I’m gonna get something to drink from the vending machine, want anything?” Jungkook asks, shoving the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and dusting his hands, you shake your head and he shrugs, “I’ll bring you back whatever, then.”

With that he leaves, lengthy hair bouncing with his steps as he makes his way out. You could feel Seokjin’s eyes on you and you slowly turn your head to face him, he’s indeed staring at you, in a way that makes you want to squirm and be as far away from him as possible.

“You have questions.” It’s a statement, because he knows.

“A few.” You nod, studying his features. He looks absolutely normal, nothing awry about him in visage. Leaning closer to him you ask softly for the sake of not being overheard. “Are you really a Cupid?”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow, watching you with thinly veiled suspicion, “What brought this on?”

“I’m just really curious.”

Seokjin hums, “I already told you, I am. I was extremely clear. Why? Change of heart? Or are you just trying to appease me by going along with it?”

There’s a hint of bite in his words, and you suddenly remember him saying that he gives up in the cafe, and realize, if he is indeed what he claims, you’re truly making his job harder. He’s like a venomous snake, poised and ready to strike if you misstep.

For a moment, you think it’s best to never get on his bad side if the slight irritation that darkens his eyes makes you feel cornered.

“I was just wondering.” You say, “It’s just strange how you just suddenly- I don’t think Jungkook knows you as well as he thinks. Yoongi definitely doesn’t know you either.”

“Ah.” He sighs, tilting his head curiously, “What I think is strange is that you noticed that.”

“You know... you’re kind of creepy. I think, sometimes it feels as though you’re normal but then it feels odd, like you’re an anomaly.”

“I’ll try not to be. But that’s just your senses telling you what you don’t want to believe.” Seokjin raises a hand to tap your forehead lightly with a finger.

You frown, “I’m not spiritual.”

“You don’t have to be.” He shrugs, “In terms for you to understand, I walk on a higher frequency than you do. Our energies are completely different, and it doesn’t matter if you are consciously aware of it or not, you’re going to realize that.”

“Okay.” You nod, trying to absorb the words that tumbled out of his mouth even though he basically dumbed it down for you. You’re still not certain if you believe what he says or if your mind is protecting you so that you just take it and run. “Why are you helping me?”

It feels silly to ask, but you’d like to think you’re not so deep and lost within the fog of your non-existent love life that a Cupid would take pity on you enough to step in.

“I hate seeing people struggle. It’s just so sad. You humans are like lambs without a shepherd; wandering aimlessly.” He sighs as though he’s in pain, before a smile breaks and his squeaky laugh follows, “I’m joking...partly.”

You roll your eyes, “No really, I want to know.”

“I don’t think you do.” Seokjin shakes his head, mirth lights his eyes still. Though you just stare at him, waiting, and he sighs, “I’m not supposed to tell you, but I suppose I already crossed a million lines telling you I’m a Cupid.”

He taps a finger against his chin, “I’m trying to get a promotion, it’s extremely important that we get this settled.”

“...what?” You frown, narrowing your eyes at him, “Are you joking?”

“I do find myself hilarious, but no.”

“I thought angels wouldn’t lie.”

Seokjin gasps as though you’d offended him, and judging by the look on his face you probably had. “When have I ever lied to you?”

“Just then. I’m supposed to believe that angels have what? A corporate system?”

“First of all, I do not lie. I just omit small things.” He pokes a finger at you and you swat at it. You want to tell him that telling a half lie is just lying while trying to seem truthful. “Secondly, yes. But I can’t tell you anything more on that, so don’t ask.”

You grumble to yourself, leaning back and away in time to spot Jungkook coming back with more than just drinks.

“He’s quite impulsive.” Seokjin chuckles, and you can only agree.

“Where are we going?” You trail behind Seokjin, down a busy street. Once again, struggling to keep up with his long legs.

“I’ve got a few potential candidates for you, all of which can work out though it mostly depends on your choices.” Seokjin slows down for your sake, “I’m not allowed to outright tell you who’s right for you, I can tell you who’s the wrong choice however.”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier if you told me?”

“It would, but it’s against the rules and frankly takes the fun out of everything.”

“You want to see me suffer?” You cross your arms, and Seokjin chuckles, shaking his head as he turns to face you. He plants his hands on your shoulders, hands drifting down to unfold your arms.

“I think you’ve suffered enough. All work and no pl-“ Seokjin pauses, looking past you. The change in his easy going expression is startling, the humor dimming to be replaced by anger, jaw tensing.

You take a half step away from him, wondering what could bring about his change of mood so swiftly. Curious, you turn to look.

A couple stopped just a few steps from you both, they're both dressed warmly to combat the weather. The guy seems a little shocked, enough that the girl you assume is his girlfriend asks him if he’s okay.

He offers her a smile, one that seemed a little nervous to you. He eyes you for a moment, with the same intensity that Seokjin sometimes does, before his eyes settle on the man next to you.

“Hyunjin.” Seokjin says, eyes flaring with something indiscernible. His voice is clipped, stare harsh as he takes a single step forward.

“Seokjin.” The man replies curtly, pulling his girlfriend slightly behind him, “How about we talk about this elsewhere?”

He motions a hand to the people passing by who was paying no mind to either of you. Seokjin turns on his heel, walking briskly and you stumble to follow.

Seokjin is unusually quiet as he leads you through the streets, and you wonder just who Hyunjin is to him for him to react this way.

You pass by familiar places, the café where Namjoon works, and across the street to the park that was suspiciously empty.

You’re afraid to ask Seokjin what the matter was, mindful of the way you can feel the anger radiating off of him. So you keep quiet, stopping when he does, and sitting on the park bench when he tells you to.

He keeps walking, stopping a good distance away, waiting.

Hyunjin sighs, placing a gloved hand against his girlfriend’s cheek. “I won’t be long, okay?”

She nods and he leaves, walking towards Seokjin. As she sits next to you, you offer her a smile, “Sorry, I hope we aren’t interrupting you two.”

“It’s okay.” She says, pushing her glasses back up her nose with a hand. She glances over to where Seokjin and Hyunjin are talking briefly. “Is he your friend?”

You snort, friend is one hell of a reach, “Fortunately not.”

“I’m Nikki.” She offers a hand that you shake.

“Y/n.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Seokjin’s voice raises and both you and Nikki turn toward them, “You can fall for this. She’s human, Hyunjin!”

Hyunjin walks away, leaving Seokjin to gawk in disbelief. They both look angry enough to ignite the air around them, and Hyunjin ignores the call of his name, eyes softening when he lays them on Nikki. She stands at his approach, taking the hand that he offers. He gives you a long look, “I’d let him cool off first.”

You can only nod, voicing a soft goodbye as they leave.Turning your head you watch Seokjin who was too busy staring daggers into Hyunjin’s retreating form.

You give him a moment, waiting until Hyunjin and Nikki are across the street, until they merge into the crowd. You sit quietly, toeing the stone path beneath your shoe, kicking at a pebble and watching it roll its way away from you.

Eventually, Seokjin makes his way back, sitting next to you with a long drawn out sigh. “I have a headache.”

“You get those?” genuinely curious, you ask, but the withering glare Seokjin sends your way makes you snap your mouth shut. “Who is he?”

Seokjin sighs, running a hand through his hair in a way that’s deceptively human. You’re once again jealous of the way the strands fall back into place like they weren’t disturbed, making a note to ask him what shampoo he uses.

“Hyunjin is...” he shakes his head, jaw clenching, “We’ve been searching for him for a year. A guardian angel. That girl is his charge and up until now they’ve both been missing.

He said that he won’t leave her. That he would rather fall because he loves her. Ridiculous. It’s wrong, there’s only one way that could end and it’s not going to be nice. His duty isn't to love her that way.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it...” You mutter quietly.

“Of course you wouldn’t. You don’t understand, there’s no way that you can begin to. He’s putting her and himself in danger.”

He quiets and you do too, the air is still charged and Seokjin goes off muttering to himself. You glance at him and you can see that he’s thinking, fingers pressed against his lips as he stares at nothing in particular. It isn’t your business, but you ask anyway, “Are you gonna tell them that you found him?”

“I should.” Seokjin replies after a moment more of silence, “For now, though, I’ll turn a blind eye. I have more important things to do.”

“Right, yeah.” You nod, eyeing him carefully, “What were you saying earlier? Candidates?”

You’re not quite sure how people find watching sports exhilarating. Though, you’re here for Jungkook – and Seokjin - sitting on a bench between Yoongi and Hoseok, cheering as loudly as you can.

Its the last competition before the break, and if the Athens shoot the winning arrow, they’ll be at regionals next year.

You’d wished him and Seokjin luck before they’d left this morning, knowing well the latter didn’t need it at all. You know Jungkook was nervous, you can see him bouncing his leg even from where you are.

“Any bets?” Yoongi nudges your arm with his, passing you a soda, “I hope Jungkook doesn’t drop his bow or anything...”

“Nah, he’ll be fine. Seokjin’s on his team, there’s no way they’d lose.”

“You’ve been hanging out with him a lot.” Hoseok comments, and you spot him dipping his fingers into the pocket of his sweater only to come out with a gummy worm.

You wiggle your fingers at him, he side eyes you but gives you some anyway. “He’s cool.” You shrug, ignoring the soft snort that leaves Yoongi.

“Right.” There’s a knowing look that Yoongi sends you, one that you also ignore.

The teams take turns, women from opposite sides going first, and then the men, all scoring fairly well for their teams. It’s a moment again before the last shooters are ready, and they can either make or break the win.

Five minutes and a couple more gummy worms after, Seokjin is finally stepping up to his marker. If he scores a full ten, the Athens would take the win.

He nocks his arrow the way you’ve seen him done before, and the crowd quiets, waiting with baited breath. He takes aim and your squeezing Hoseok’s hand, he releases the arrow. There’s the sharp whistle, louder that the stands are still, and the sound of it hitting the target.

The folks that came all the way from your city to watch cheers the loudest as Seokjin and his team celebrates the win.

You’re all gathered in your apartment after the match. Though, Everyone had decided that celebrations would wait until the morning, desperate to get home and out of the cold of the winter air and into the warm houses. You just wished someone could convince the archers in your friend group.

Seokjin had insisted on doing something, claiming to be busy the next day. He’d drag you all off to the market, rushing you around to pick stuff from a crumpled list he pulled from the bottom of his duffle bag.

“Hey,” Seokjin says greets softly, passing you an opened beer with a soft smile.

“Thanks” You smile back, because he’ll just nag your ear off until he gets you to smile. Seokjin’s been in the kitchen since you all came back, shooing both you and Yoongi attempting to help, claiming culinary genius.

Your apartment does smell aromatic; filled with a blend of different spices. You know whatever Seokjin’s making is gonna knock your socks off. “You better wow me with your cooking. After you chased me out of my own kitchen.” You tease, and Seokjin chortles.

“Trust me, my cooking is unmatched.” He says confidently, chest puffing up.

You hum around the mouth of your beer, “Uh huh. You’ll have to prove that. No one’s better than Yoongi.”

Seokjin side eyes you playfully, poking at your stomach with a finger that you grab onto, “Yeah, Yeah.”

He quiets, wiggling his finger in your grip, “I wanted to do something nice.”

You make a confused sound in the back of your throat, because what more could he possibly want to do? He’s already helping you find the person you’re meant to be with, and on top of that, have the patience of Mother Theresa and you remain stubborn to a fault. Though, you suppose, he has his nature and you do too.

Hoseok and Jungkook are watching some age old holiday film, not paying mind to either you or Jin. Yoongi had long said he’d be back, though it’s been a half hour with no sign of your grumpy best friend.

“Wanna help me in there?” Seokjin points his thumb over his shoulder, and you raise a brow, “You can help me cut some stuff; I’ve only got two hands.”

“You sure you actually need my help?”

“She’s a disaster in the kitchen.” Yoongi suddenly appears behind Seokjin, a bottle of whisky in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. “I’ll help.”

You make an offended sound, “I’ll have you know that I am great at cutting stuff!”

Yoongi only hums, slinking off like a bored feline into the kitchen. Seokjin pats your head, “You know how to hold a knife, right?”

“Why are you cutting it like that?”

You look down at the cutting bored through the tears stinging your eyes, and you sniffle, “I could barely fucking see. I hate cutting onions.”

Yoongi shoos you away, taking the knife gently from your hold, “Go wash your eyes.”

You shuffle, partly blinded by the sting and tears in your eyes to the sink, arms stretched out before you as your only guide. A warm hand grasps your wrist, leading you forward, “I thought you said you were good at it.”

Seokjin’s voice holds amusement, and you don’t have to see him to know he’s getting a kick out of the situation. You want to tell him that your skill with cutting vegetables and the onion’s rhine burning your eyes has absolutely nothing to do with each other, but you’re too busy trying to find the tap with your hands.

He turns the tap on for you as you lean down towards the flow, and you feel his hands pulling your hair back and out of the way. Sweet relief comes with the cool stream of water rinsing the sting from your eyes, though they’re still irritated enough for you to dig the heels of your palms into them when you straighten. “Onions are evil.”

“Are they?” Seokjin gently pulls your hands away from your face, “Don’t rub them.”

“Tell that the itch driving me up a wall.” You’re a little surprised at how close he is, barely an inch away from you. The rhythmic sound of Yoongi cutting vegetables fades to background noise that you can barely focus on, distracted by Seokjin’s brown eyes peering into yours and the gentle way he swipes his thumbs under your lower lids.

“They’re all red now.” He says softly, and he seems distracted too, eyes filtering away from yours and somewhere lower.

“You guys want me to leave?” Yoongi drawls, effectively breaking the moment, “I can do that you know. Just walk right outta here.” He’s pointing the knife over his shoulder, eyebrow raised, though there’s humour in his eyes.

You pull away from Seokjin’s hands, clearing your throat, “Can I finish cutting the onions now?”

“No, but you can start on the bell peppers for me.” Seokjin hands you a small glass bowl with yellow and red peppers, and you do your best to ignore his fingers brushing yours.

When dinner was ready, the four of you gather at the table, trading laughs and stories and you feel content in this moment. Watching your boys be happy, and Jungkook laughing so hard he chokes only to be scolded by Yoongi. Seokjin next to you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him.

You wonder how it’ll be once his job’s done and he leaves, would you miss him? He’s still as weird as you thought he was that time you met him in your hallway. You’ll miss his laugh, and the way he can comfort you without trying, you’ll miss him doing his best to make you happy even when he doesn’t have to.

The way he pulled you close when one of your first dates went wrong even with his meddling.

You’ll miss him.

Seokjin’s grown quite fond of you, he thinks, a dangerous thing, he believes. Over the weeks that passed, he’s successfully done his job; setting you on the right track to find your person.

The first couple of dates, Seokjin seeked out people you were familiar with, rather than strangers.

He’d stay close by at all times, observing from a distance. On the days when you’d rather not do anything, Seokjin would meet in your apartment. He’d never tell you that the thing’s you’d have him get up to weren’t what he’d consider fun. He’d go anyway, content to watch you instead of whatever movie you’d convinced him to watch with you.

That’s when he realized it.

Funny, really.

Seokjin has seen love before, as it is, his duty was to bring those who are fated together by a series of coincidences. A meet-cute here, a spilled coffee there, even going as far as to reunite friends who've grown up and apart from each other. He’s seen how love can make people bloom like flowers in the spring, and change like seasons together.

He’s seen love make people go distances they’d have never dared to otherwise. He’s seen it in simple words and touches, grand and minute gestures.

So, Seokjin knows what love is when he feels it. It’s that feeling he gets in his chest when you smile, poking fun at him because there’s always something that’s so distinctively human he would never understand. Strange now that it makes him happy, you’re at a point where you no longer deny him being your friend when other people ask, when you take his teasing in stride like friends do.

You’re happier now, despite the trial and error and the hoops you have to jump through to get where you want to be.

It’s the way your hand felt in his when you held it for the first time. It was after one of your many dates, a Saturday evening when the sun was already dragging the moon into the sky.

First snow, and you’d both sat on swings in an empty park far away from where you’d normally venture. Crystalline flakes fluttered into your hair and melted on your clothes. He’d given you his scarf before you could start to shiver.

He’d been content to watch you then, boots kicking at the snow that was piling up quickly.

Watching the way you found joy in a snowflake landing on your nose, and the way you’d try to catch them with your tongue. On the way out of the park, you held his hand because there was ice on the ground and you didn’t want to slip.

Even through the layer of your gloves Seokjin felt the warmth of your skin. He’s way beyond being flustered by such a thing, but heat climbed his neck and flushed his cheeks and he blamed it on the cold.

Seokjin felt something curl around his heart tightly, and he couldn’t ignore it anymore. He understands Hyunjin now, he thinks, his words play on his mind more frequently these days. Unlike Hyunjin, though, Seokjin is too rooted to his place.

The dangers that would come from you and him being anything more than what you are now are too great for Seokjin to risk it. He knows well what would come of it, and it’s nothing good. You would have to spend the rest of your life hiding from the seeing eyes of others, and the forces that will undoubtedly tear you apart.

Seokjin doesn’t want that for you. You will be more unhappy than you’ve ever been. Forced to remain in shadows even when Seokjin represents a light greater than man could ever create. It would be selfish of him to want it, to go through with it as though he’s not making you suffer.

There’s a lump in his throat as he swallows, as he looks at you now, sitting next to him, with not a care in the world.

You glow brightly, like a star, burning hot in the far distance. Far, far off. And just like a star, you’re something he could never reach, even with all his prowess; you aren’t his to hold.

Though he wants to, and it hurts that he can’t.

“Jin.” You call his name softly, and Seokjin realizes that he’s failed. It’s the first time he’s ever felt so defeated.

He’s seen you, too. The way you’d try to pretend that his feelings aren’t yours as well. He knows. He’s seen love enough to know.

The way you’d flush at your friends’ teasing, but would not deny it. The way you’d watch him as though you’ve found something that you’ve been searching for.

“Are you okay?” Your concerned tone made him realize that he’s turned to look at you, but he’s not said anything. He nods, a little unsurely and you have a right to not look convinced.

You’re different now than you were when Seokjin met you. When he’d planted himself into the memory of your friends for the sake of his task. Truly, he wasn’t supposed to, he was supposed to do his job from a distance, never to interfere. He’s watched you go on date after date and all his arrows would fall short of their target.

So, he did the most sensible thing and got directly involved. He was supposed to be finished already, it was supposed to be quick. He’s lingered too long, and now he's sunk so deeply into clear waters that it's turned to mud. He’s unwilling to lead you to the one you’re destined for – even though he knows who it is – and he’s unwilling to let himself be the one to love you instead.

His duty isn’t to love you, he knows this.

“I’m okay.” Angels aren’t supposed to lie, but he did, and he has been for a while. Trying to convince himself that he wasn’t falling in love with you.

“You’re lying.” You say, knowingly. How far have you come to be able to read him like this?

“I’ve never once lied to you.” Seokjin says, and it’s without his usual mirth. You give him a questioning look and not much else, nodding your head slowly.

“If you say so...”

Seokjin simmers in his thoughts for a while, glancing at you when you laugh at something silly.

“Y/n,” He calls softly, and you hum, turning to face him. Seokjin takes a breath, “I have to leave.”

“Right now? The movie isn’t even finished yet.”

“I know...” Seokjin sighs, running a hand through his hair. He stares at the TV screen, not really paying attention, watching a young girl ride a dragon to a far away place. He never understood your reason for having a TV in your bedroom, but it’s quite convenient for comfort.

He could just leave quietly, slip out of your apartment and out of your life without a word. It doesn’t feel right to do so without telling you, though.

“I won’t be back.” Seokjin waits for his words to settle, as the movie fades to background noise and he watches as realization dawns on you.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” You ask, voice pitching at the end, you stand and he does too, “But you haven’t – You can’t leave.”

“I have to.” He places his hands on your shoulders, trying to calm the storm before it blows in. It’s not helping, he knows, as you take a step back.

“Tell me why.” You demand, and Seokjin sees the tears in your eyes before they fall. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no. You didn’t do anything. It’s me.” Seokjin sighs, “This...this was a mistake. I never should have gotten involved.”

You call his name then, with so much pain that Seokjin feels his heart shatter in his chest. He hates it. He hates that even doing this, he still manages to make you unhappy, he’s the cause of your uneven breaths and the tears that race their way down your cheeks and he hates it.

“I’ll make sure you find them. I promise.”

“But I don’t want that! I love you. You can’t just leave.”

Seokjin lets his hands fall to his sides, staring at a spot somewhere above your head to avoid looking you in the eye. He knows what you want, of course he does, because he wants it to. You've gone and said it and that only makes things harder.

“Y/n.” He says your name firmly, and you snap your mouth shut, shoulders shaking still as you try to put an end to your tears. He takes a step closer, raising a hand to cup your cheek, “We can never be. It’s not meant to be this way.”

“Please don’t go.” You whisper, fingers curling around his wrist. “Please stay.”

His resolve is breaking. The longer he stays the harder it’ll be to walk away. Sighing he wraps his arms around you, holding you as you shatter.

Seokjin presses a kiss to your forehead and your eyes in turn, chasing away the remainder of your tears. There’s sadness still in your eyes when you open them, he tilts your head back to capture your lips softly with his.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He says, wiping away tears that still fall.

“Do you promise?”

Instead of answering, Seokjin kisses you again, hands slipping under the warmth of your sweater to meet your soft skin. He feels the shiver that runs through you, and he wonders if his hands are cold. You call his name softly and he gently quiets you, tugging lightly at the hem of your sweater, “Can I take this off?”

You nod and Seokjin helps you wiggle your way out of it. He doesn’t think of the consequences – he doesn’t want to, so he allows his mind to blank. He’ll give in only this once, he’ll give himself to you for the first and last time, no matter how selfish it seems.

He kisses you slowly, making a map of the marks he leaves against your skin. He wants to tell you everything, he wants to take every step with you, meet you somewhere along a coast where nothing matters. But here, he’ll steal this moment and keep it with him forever, until the pain of it fades and he could look back on it fondly.

He quiets the small sounds you make with his mouth, hands bringing your legs up to wrap around his waist. You fit perfectly below him, like a puzzle piece of a puzzle he’s been trying to find.

He props himself up on his hands, gazing at you, “You’re so beautiful.” He leans down, brushing his nose against you, lips finding yours again.

There’s a storm raging outside, wind sending snow pattering softly against your window. Seokjin tries not to let his mind wander, not when you're beneath him and so warm. Your skin is warm, your scent invades his senses and you’re the only thing he could see and Seokjin feels like crying. There’s something in the back of his mind that’s screaming at him, jarring and loud, that he should savor this moment because he’ll never have it again.

He pulls away from you, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your leggings, “I’m taking these off, okay?”

Your knee nudges his side, “You first. You’re still dressed.”

Seokjin chuckles, quickly pulling his sweater and the tee-shirt he wears over his head, “Now we’re even.”

He stands to step out of his sweatpants, allowing you a moment to strip the rest of your clothes on your own. He settles next to you, fingers tracing patterns against the soft skin of your inner thighs, touching lightly just to watch your eyes flutter shut and your nipples stiffen into peaks when he blows air over them. He marks you with his teeth and his tongue, taking a nipple into his mouth, hand stilling when you raise your hips to meet it.

“Impatient little thing.” He mutters, but cuts your pleading whine short, fingers finding where he knows you want him most, groaning at the wetness he finds. He rubs slow circles against your clit and catches your moans with his lips. When he’s teased you enough, when your desperate moans of his name is enough to make him rut his growing erection against your hip, he sinks his fingers into your heat, thumb never leaving your clit.

He curls his fingers against a spot that makes you cry out, your arousal drips into his palm, and he sucks bruises into the skin of your neck. Seokjin’s hips jerk forward when your fingers curl around his cock, squeezing around the base, “Fuck.”

Your other hand stills his and he pulls away to look at you, pupils blown and eyes heavily lidded, chest rising and falling with your breaths. “Can we just...”

“It’s been a while for you, right?” Seokjin asks softly, slowly resuming the thrust of his fingers, at your nod there’s a smirk on his exhale, “It’ll hurt if I don’t. Gotta stretch you out first.”

He can feel the way your walls tighten and flutter around his fingers, feel the way shudder, moans rising his pitch. “Jin- fuck, I’m so close.”

“Already?” Jin tilts his head, tone teasing. He kisses you, tongue sliding against your own, “Let go for me, baby.”

Your gasp is followed by a drawn out moan, curses and unintelligible words on the end of it. Seokjin watches you tip over the edge, unable to help the motion of his hips thrusting his cock into the loose grip your hand had around it. Removing his fingers from your heat, he lets you catch your breath, pressing a kiss to your temple, “You did so well baby, so good for me.”

Seokjin pulls away, placing a fleeting kiss on your shoulder, “Do you have condoms?” He asks, rubbing a hand on your trembling thigh. He would’ve thought you’d passed out if it wasn’t for the limp way you motion to the bedside table.

You peek an eye at him, “I’m clean if that’s what you’re worried about.” You murmur, and Seokjin smiles, shaking his head.

“That’s good to know sweet girl, but it’s not that. You don’t want what I can give you, trust me.” Seokjin turns to rummage through your things, finding the box tucked into a corner, “It’ll be hell if something unexpected happens. We’ll have a very big problem on our hands.”

“Oh, you mean...”

“Yes. It’s best if we avoid that.” He tears the glossy wrapper with his teeth, moving back to you, he kneels between your open legs. He slides the condom on and you prop up on your elbows to watch, when Seokjin’s eyes flicker up, he could see the hint of worry in yours. He raises a hand to brush your cheek with his fingers, “I’ll go slowly.”

He’s mindful of his size and how long it’s been for you as you settle again, one hand gently gripping your hip, he keeps his eyes on you, watching your every expression. He drags his cock against your sopping cunt, hand holding steady, he leans down to slot his lips to yours, “Ready?” He whispers, waiting until you nod.

A groan leaves him as he enters you, and your fingernails scratches red into his shoulders. He buries his face against your neck, teeth nipping at the skin he could reach, giving slow shallow thrusts until he bottoms out. You’re so warm and tight around him, he takes the calls of his name as prayer, you cling to him as though he’d disappear, and Seokjin thinks that some part of you knows.

Nothing you can say or do will make him change his mind, but he’ll allow you this moment. This moment where it’s just you and him and nothing else, where he can easily show you how he feels without promising anything more.

He thrusts slowly, wanting the moment to last for as long as it can, knowing that he will go on and remember this, and you, when the morning comes you would never know that you’ve loved and been loved.

This way, it’s better, it’ll be easier knowing that one day you’ll find what you need in someone else that isn’t him, without ever knowing what you mean to him at all. Things will return to the way it was meant to be, with him watching from a distance, guiding you in the way he was supposed to from the start.

Seokjin wills the tears behind his eyes to go away, and tells his mind to shut up.

Your name is a sigh on his lips, a prayer that when the time comes he could walk away. Your hips rise to meet his thrusts, and Seokjin loses his fingers in your hair, holding you closer because it’s all he could do as you grow ever tighter around him. He chases his end as you find yours, lips crashing against yours sloppily when he stills, release spilling into the condom.

“Are you okay?” Seokjin asks after a moment, when the room doesn’t feel like a sauna, and he’s finished cleaning you and himself up. Brushing back your hair that hides your eyes from his view, you kiss his palm and Seokjin tries not to let his sadness show in his smile.

“I’m okay. Can we take a shower? I feel gross.” You laugh, already getting up to walk to your closet, you throw a towel at him and he catches it.

“That’s rude, we don’t throw things.” Seokjin trails after you, taking your hand in his because he needs to be grounded right now and not think about what he has to do.

When you stir the next morning, the other side of the bed is cold, but Seokjin’s sitting at your side, brushing your hair away from your eyes.

“You’re still here?” You murmur, smiling sleepily. You open your eyes a bit to see him fully dressed in last night’s clothes.

“I’m here.” Seokjin smiles sadly, massaging your scalp with his fingers, “I have to go.”

You pull away from him to sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with a hand, “Are you coming back?”

He watches you quietly for a moment before he shakes his head, “I can’t.” He takes your hand and squeezes gently, “This...we can’t.” He sighs, frustrated, knowing what he has to say, what he needs to do.

Seokjin has spent thousands of years watching the rise and fall of mankind over and over, doing his duty as a Cupid to bring those who are fated together. He’s seen heartbreak, he’s seen how it shatters a person’s very being, now he knows what it feels like as he watches tears gather in your eyes because you know, too.

“Don’t go. Please. We can make this work, Jin. Please.” His throat feels tight, something is squeezing his chest and he hates it. He hates that you’re crying because of him, because he’s breaking your heart. “Please stay.”

“I can’t.” Seokjin whispers this, pulling you closer when you reach for him, the sound of your sobs etches into his core and they cut deep. He’s held you, a star, and you’ve burnt him now. Stars burn the brightest as they die, giving their all in the last moment of their lives, and like a star he watches as you implode.

Sometimes though, stars don’t always turn into black holes when they die, sometimes they scatter into matter and burn dimly forever. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Why? Why’d you let me fall for you?” You hiccup, pushing at his chest and Seokjin lets you, letting his hands drop at his side. “You knew that this was going to happen and you let it happen!”

Your tears are angry now, but still so sad, and you slap weakly at his arms. “Why?”

“I’m sorry.” He cups your cheeks with his hands, thumbs catching your tears. He wished it wasn’t this way, he wished that things were different, that maybe, you could’ve met him under different circumstances. That he wasn’t him, but you were still you. He wasn’t expecting it, like most things, it simply happened.

He kisses you while you cry, your fingers curl tightly into the material of his sweater, “I’m sorry. You have to forget me.”

You pull away from him completely, tears flowing faster now, “No.”

“Y/n.” He sighs.

“You can’t do that. What gives you the right?” You escape his reach, moving to the other side of the bed where you get off, turning to face him, “You can leave. You can go and pretend that this never happened. You can’t make me forget, I don’t want to forget you.”

Sighing Seokjin gets up too, walking around the bed to you. You step backwards until you have nowhere to go, back against the wall. “I have to.”

“No, you don’t.”

“So stubborn.” Seokjin clenches his jaw, his head hurts and he wants this to be over. The longer he stands here having this conversation, the harder it will be to follow through. He walks until he’s in your space, hand finding your cheek again. “Why are you always so stubborn?”

“Jin.” You whisper his name and his heart breaks, “Please.”

“Are you ready to spend the rest of your life knowing that we can never see each other again? Knowing me will put everyone you care about in danger. There’s no chance. It’ll break you and I’d rather not have that happen.” Seokjin says, “This was never supposed to happen. We weren’t meant to happen.”

“I don’t want to forget.” You repeat, stubbornly. “Please don’t make me forget.”

Seokjin leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his fingers already at your temple before you have the chance to stop him. He leans away, just watching you, memorizing your features as though he’d ever forget. “I love you.”

You finally quiet, staring at him with wide eyes, “Jin.”

“I’m sorry.” You fall limp and Seokjin catches you before you can hit the floor, holding you to him as the dam breaks and he cries. He cries for the moments he’s shared, the moments you would now live never to remember, he cries because he knows what heartbreak is and he feels it. “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry.”

After he places you back into bed, he makes sure that nothing belonging to him remains. Seokjin walks slowly out of your apartment, looking around at everything because it’s the last time. There’s no way he can come back here, he needs to go as far away as he possibly can.

Softly, he closes your door behind him, and every step he takes he feels as though his heart is being pulled out his chest. He makes it all the way down the hall, and into the elevator when Yoongi steps out of his apartment. He looks at Seokjin for a moment, no sign of recollection whatsoever. The last thing Seokjin before the doors slide close is Yoongi opening yours and going in.

“Y/n. Why the fuck are you sleeping with the window open? Are you trying to get sick?” Yoongi stomps his way into your bedroom, pulling your window shut. He turns to look at you as you sit up, “Hey. Why are you crying? What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” You hum, confused, wiping your fingers under your eyes, “I...I don’t know? Must’ve been a dream?”

“Can you get ready in ten minutes?” Yoongi boldly rummages through your drawers, throwing clothes your way. “The café has deals on donuts and I wanna get some before they sell out.”

He walks to your door, while you sit, still sleepy, still confused. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah...I just...I feel like I’ve lost something.”

Broke your heart? Read the What If sequel drabble - Here

Tagging: @xpeachesncream @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond @euphoricfilter @luaspersona @mssukeyna @matchstick6812 @jinsquishes @allhobbitstoisengard @eren-fall @dontstoptime @eoieopda

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lxmiko · 2 years

Text

shu yamino and his millions of unsaid thoughts about you, you, you . . .

— ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ—

me love shu yamino ooga booga, like screaming crying banging on the walls when i think about him fr .///.

however !! this is a lil ooc ;;; i was having too much fun making shu a powerful sorcerer that i kinda forgot he’s never really talked about the true extent of his powers ;;

ALSO THIS IS SO MESSY I’M SO SORRY YALL I JUST REALLY NEEDED TO GET ALL THESE WORDS OUT

but anyway, have some food fellow yaminions www

characters: shu yamino

— *✧･ﾟ: * —

shu doesn’t need to read to know of the many mythical beings humans have created from the depths of their minds, some real, some fake: centaurs, witches, demons, and sorcerers to name a few (he lists the last one from personal experience).

though, real or not, many of them who have survived until now live among humans, including him.

he lives with his family in a house they bought that he could’ve conjured up with his own sorcery, he lets himself be bedridden instead of fixing himself an elixir, he works when he can just imagine money to appear in the palm of his hand, and yet he still chooses not to rely on his power. he does all these things in an effort to be, to feel more real.

though he may play pretend, he knows he‘ll never truly fit in, forever cursed to be unreal, a figment of humans’ imaginations, cemented in history through carefully woven tales and books that twist the stories of his kind. he knows he’ll only ever be remembered for being a fantastical creature.

but above all else, he knows that you — a human, though he swears you’re an angel — are real, and if you aren’t, if he isn’t, he wants to immortalize you in this fairytale the two of you are living in until his very last breath utters the final words of this story, until the end of his forever.

shu’s convinced himself to be okay with no one ever knowing he’s a sorcerer, that he’s never really minded it, being unreal, but you make him want to be tangible, even if it's only for you. you make him feel as though he truly is living in a world of woven phenomenons about (dare he say mystifying) romance, you make him feel alive.

your touch feels better than the purple wisps that swirl between his fingertips, electrifying and enchanting, comforting him with sweet whispers every time your hands meet his skin. your touch—no, you are magic.

and when he kisses you, he soars, tasting promises of adventures and devotion on your tongue. his skin buzzes when your hands trace the contours of his face and entangle in his hair, his own hands tentative as they lightly graze your cheeks and trail down to your waist.

you make him feel real, he says through his eyes when he smiles at you; he wants to reread every word of his and your story, he whispers silently into every kiss you two share; you are his home, his safe space, his everything, he draws into your skin when he wakes up minutes before you on lazy sunday mornings; and he hopes you know all of this, all of his millions of unsaid thoughts about you, you, you. (even if he can never bring himself to say them).

and as you drag him excitedly with your hand clasped around his wrist to the spot for your next date (a small cafe bakery that smells of chocolate, vanilla, and hopeless romance), he thinks all these thoughts and of these feelings you ignite within him (even the warmth of your hand in his drives him crazy despite the calm facade he shows you).

they bubble and burn for you, like the powerful elixirs he used to make, and all at once, it becomes too much for shu to hide behind layers of stupid humor and unmovable silence.

he stutters in his steps, coming to a stop and making you stumble back slightly at the sudden change in pace. you look back at him and hum, but all he does is gaze back at you with those twinkling amethyst eyes of his.

he’s blushing, yet another thing that he knows and can’t deny — god, you make him so flustered — and you’re being so sweet as you ignore the bustling city around you to focus all of your attention on him.

if this is a fairytale —

“ — i hope this never ends,” he murmurs, and his lips curl up at the confused smile you give him.

he takes the hand you have wrapped around his wrist, slipping it down and into his grasp, threading his fingers through yours.

without question, you squeeze his hand back gently — god, you make him so happy — and in response, he whispers, “i love you.”

— ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ—

SORRY THAT THE ENDING IS KIND OF LIKE THE OTHER SHU ONESHOT BUT I MEAN IT’S SO KFSGJHAKJSFHG, ending on “i love you” is just too good .///.

#shu yamino #shu yamino x reader #luxiem #luxiem x reader #nijien #nijisanji #nijisanji en

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roniscloud · 3 years

Text

psh - love affair

park sunghoon [f. 8516 words] love affair

so when i’m gonna know what to feel inside, baby?

maybe it’s just all in my head, so

don’t overthink, this is love

maybe it’s just a crush

baby, is this your love affair, your love affair?

synopsis: what happens when two childhood best friends make a deal to help each other’s reputations? an unforeseen circumstance prompts sunghoon to approach you, intriguing not just you but practically every other student at your college. you believe your reunion with him can only end in one of two ways: you resort back to being friends and go on with your lives, or you use each other and once you’re both done, you fall out and never talk again. how will you two navigate your companionship? is it just the nostalgia coming up? a revival of feelings? a new crush? could it possibly be actual love?

genre + tropes : fluff. comedy. the slightest angst. childhoodbestfriends!au. enemiestolovers!au. college!au. fakedating!au.

warnings: fem reader. a little swearing. slightly suggestive themes, sorta. a few cliches. mentions of underage drinking. the american collegiate school calendar. does them geeking out over fantasy/sci-fi sagas need a warning? unknown mutual pining. they’re so helplessly clueless of their feelings. also appearances of the rest of enha plus txt.

i. prologue

if someone told you that you would reconnect with your childhood best friend—let alone date him, you would’ve laughed in their face and told them to fuck off. park sunghoon is bad news. well, at least to you he is. one of the infamous campus playboys, you can spot him around the quad flirting with a different girl practically every day.

but to you, he couldn’t have been anymore unlike the sunghoon you grew up with. you grew up with the sunghoon who couldn’t stand being around others, mind always focused on his own interests. you knew him as the little shy boy who would hide behind his mom whenever new people came around. the first person he opened up to was you. you can blame your mom for that. you can vaguely remember her words, something along the lines of mrs. park and i have been friends for longer than you have been alive. when we found out we were both expecting, we knew you two were destined to be besties.

she was right. everyone thought you were two peas in a pod. wherever one of you went, the other followed. always stuck together, like true partners in crime. your close bond stuck for years. if anyone needed you, you’d most likely be found in the seats of sunghoon’s ice skating practices and competitions, cheering him on and being obnoxiously loud. likewise, he always attended your showcases, spending hours complimenting your artwork.

but then the villain of everyone’s lifetime eventually appeared. puberty.

alas, your friendship did what anyone could predict of a couple of preteens entering high school. the usual “no matter what we’re gonna stick together!” leading to “sorry for blowing you off, got really busy,” to the imminent “what happened to us? we used to be so close,” and eventually the end of it all. senior year, the two of you attempted to leave on a good note. by that, you mean your parents made both of you apply to the same colleges to have a chance at sticking together. well, it worked, you got into the same university. funny how the universe does things.

back to present day, you’re now in your second year at hybe university. let’s just say, sunghoon isn’t the only one who went through a personality change. sunghoon traded his late night practices on the ice to one-night stands at frat parties. you, on the other hand, traded your once outgoing and fun-loving persona for a more… cold grunge meets artsy introvert. overall, let’s just say you both have reputations for not being the most approachable people. well at least you still have one thing in common.

ii. the cafe

the busy campus cafe was roaring with study groups filling every table. the aroma of fresh coffee and tea being brewed filling the air, creating a warm atmosphere—contrast to the cold winter weather just outside the walls. the college students scattered around, just like their minds scattered as they prepare for finals. not immune to the dreaded time of year, a group of four boys enter, immediately grabbing the attention of those already nestled inside.

a quick roll call of the four known by the student body as en-4, a combination of the dance crew name enhypen and the notorious f4. lee heeseung—the campus heartthrob, captain of the dance crew, center of the basketball team, and an unknown hopeless romantic. park jongseong, although everyone calls him jay—the resident bad boy and party animal, but those close to him know that he’s actually the responsible one. sim jaeyun, otherwise referred to as jake—the friendly and flirty frat boy who you can catch playing soccer in the quad almost every day. finally, park sunghoon—the handsome heartbreaker. he doesn’t need more of an introduction.

the four of them make their way to the counter, placing their orders. of course jake doesn’t miss his chance to sound extra sweet and send a quick wink to the barista, getting elbowed by heeseung in the process. after getting their drinks, they look around to see almost no where to sit. not a single table to fit all of them was available.

in one of the tucked away areas, sunghoon spots an empty seat at a smaller table. the only catch was there was someone sitting across from it, hunched forward over her laptop. he can’t see much of her figure but he immediately recognizes her features. it’s you. well, a more mature and grown up you, but he couldn’t forget that face for the life of him.

sunghoon’s feet drag himself across the crowded room, catching the attention from the neighboring groups he passed but sneaking away quiet enough to not alarm his own friends. the three are too caught up arguing about what to do. sunghoon can hear the faint voice of jay suggesting going somewhere else while the other two shoot him down as he walks further away. he makes his way all the way up to your side. you look up, scanning him, confused but unamused. “this seat taken?” the first words he said in a year and half to you. still not not giving him any emotion, you hesitantly shake your head once, immediately bringing your focus back to your essay.

ignoring him only works for so long, his gaze not leaving the top of your head. you can feel his stare piercing into you, finally meeting his eyes. “what’s your deal?” the irritation and bluntness in your tone is all too evident.

he shrugs and answers nonchalantly, “nothing, just go along with it.” his answer is hushed, almost as if he’s a bit embarrassed.

“what are you trying to pull here, park?”

“can i not just sit here and peacefully drink my latte? am i that disturbing to you?”

“considering that the second you started walking in this direction, everyone had their eyes on us, then yes, you are that disturbing.”

“they’re not looking at us.” he pauses before continuing with his rant, “they’re looking at you.”

“and why the hell do you think that is?”

“they’re all trying to figure out what could possibly be so interesting about you that i would choose this seat.” he says it like it’s the most obvious answer.

you scoff and turn to see the lingering stares of the others in the cafe. “well, if it isn’t the god park sunghoon being as humble as ever, gracing me with his presence and having mercy on a peasant like me.” the sarcasm dripping off your tongue like venom.

he smiles warmly at your animosity and chuckles. “i’ve always loved your sense of humor.”

“funny cause i’ve always despised yours. i’m gonna ask one more time. what do you want, park?”

he only shrugs. hesitating before responding again, “i like it here. i like talking to you. it’s familiar… comfortable.” he sees your expression change subtly. it’s only for a second before you regain the prior look. he tries to read you. he caught you off guard and his pride brings a smirk to his face.

by now, he finally tunes back into the situation around him and can feel his phone going off in his jean pocket. he pulls out the phone to see dozens of notifications, quickly stealing a glance back up at you to see that you’re already back to typing away on the previously forgotten assignment. he laughs as he sees the boys blowing up their group chat asking what he was doing. he looks up, finding the three sitting at a cramped booth with shock and confusion written all over them.

“enjoying the attention?” your turn to break the silence. when he turns back to you, you continue, “you’re no stranger to it but you’ve always loved it.” he gives you a slow nod, turning the question back to you. you answer him, “you know that it’s not my forte.”

“and why is that? scared people will get to know the real you?”

“oh please, like you aren’t afraid of me exposing all the dirt i have on you. imagine the buzz i could create with all of your old baby pics.”

he jolts up from his relaxed position, eyebrows raised, and completely on edge, “you wouldn’t dare.”

you lean forward in your seat, elbow resting on the table, cheek resting in your palm, and chuckle, “try me.” the words leaving your mouth quickly and a smile immediately replacing it.

“you’re finally smiling at me. good to know you still have emotions.” he gets you to laugh again. you spend the next 20 minutes catching up. looks like you two kept more in common than you thought. things run smoothly between the two of you, some of your old memories and inside jokes being brought up. “why didn’t this happen sooner?”

“what, us talking? i mean, you and i stopped running in the same crowd and school got the best of us. i will admit, though, freshman year sucked without you.”

he sighs when he hears your admission. “how about this? a proposition. i’m sure you’re aware that i don’t have the best reputation.”

you cut him off, “you can say that again.”

“haha, very funny,” he throws in another sarcastic comment. “you know you’re not exactly the most approachable either. hate to be the one to break it to you but you’re pretty intimidating.” he notices the expression on your face turned into one of annoyance at his last statement, “don’t look at me like that, you know it’s true.”

you dismiss the slight jab, telling him to continue. what you don’t expect is the next four words to come out of his mouth. “go out with me.” he sees your face drop, “oh come on, stop looking at me like that.”

“so i see, a little bit of time without me and you go insane.”

“look, i don’t mean actually date me, i mean… pretend to.”

again, you stare at him like he grew another head. “you want me to fake-date you? what are we, in a k-drama now? sorry hoon, you’re attractive but i would’ve preferred hwang in-youp or song kang.”

now he’s a bit annoyed, answering cockily, “i am so much better looking than them.”

“you wish.”

his jaw drops for a few seconds and then he chuckles. “i’m serious, think about it. we go out and spend time with each other like old times. i don’t look like i’m so incapable of being in a committed relationship and you don’t look like such a loner. no offense.”

“offense taken… but i see your point.”

“see, look at you using that smart brain of yours. this would be no strings attached. just two friends helping each other out while simultaneously deceiving everyone else. i know how much you love tricking others.”

you sit quietly, weighing the pros and cons in your head. “deal.”

iii. bro code

a few days later, sunghoon sits in his shared apartment with the boys, slumped on the couch as they eat dinner. “why are you guys so against it? i thought you wanted to see me in a relationship and now that i’m in one, you guys don’t approve. make it make sense. i should be free to date whoever i want.”

“yeah dude,” pausing to take a bite of his burger, “we get that.” jay answers, seeing how defensive his friend is getting.

jake interejects, “we respect your choices, but like… her? of all the girls that are falling at your feet, you chose her? the one that has no interest in you at all? i know you’re powerful but i don’t get how you managed to pull that off.”

“i feel like you could’ve consulted us about it first. bro code, man.” heeseung says as he shrugs his shoulders and sips on his soda.

“that’s kinda why i like her, because she isn’t all over me like the others. she’s cute and fun to hang out with. just give her a chance. honestly, what’s the worst that could happen? we go out and it doesn’t work. no harm in trying….”

that seems to do the trick as the boys lay off from the topic, going back to their own dinners and watching the latest episode of the penthouse.

later that night, sunghoon leaves their dorm to meet up with you. you agreed earlier that if you needed to meet up and talk that you’d go to the art department. perks of being an art major allows you a studio to spend your time in, secluded from the outside world. in this case, you and sunghoon don’t have to worry about nosy roommates.

when he arrives, he makes sure to take the back entrance like you mentioned. he makes his way through the deserted halls, glancing at each room he passes, and taking note of the various pieces framed along the corridor walls. he gets to the end of the building, finding a studio decorated with your name on the door. he silently enters. you don’t notice him at first with your back against the entrance and the music playing too loud through your airpods, focused on molding the clay on the pottery wheel. he grabs an empty stool, propping it beside you and taking a seat. he takes off one of your airpods, putting it in his own ear.

you finally turn your head towards him, “how long ago did you get here?”

“just now. how long were you waiting?”

you sit up, facing his direction. “i had a couple of classes today and came here to finish some stuff, been here for… what time is it?”

“um… almost 11.”

“then like four hours.”

“you’ve been working on that for four hours? what even is it, and when did you start doing pottery?” he points at the unfinished ceramic.

“not just that. i had some paintings that i needed to finish for my portfolio and those are in a separate room to dry. this,” you refer to the clay, “is just something i’m working on for fun. i got into it cause one of my profs suggested i try another medium.”

he nods along while you explain. “you can keep working on it while we talk.”

you hum in confirmation and turn back to the wheel, rewetting your wands. “so how do we make this believable? seems like people already know. word spreads quick when it comes to you.”

“we just need to act like a couple. so hanging out, going on dates, posting each other here and there, and being affectionate.”

“wow you finally found an excuse to kiss me,” you laugh as you joke with him, him following suit. “sounds reasonable, not much different from how we were as kids, just now we have to call them dates.”

“shouldn’t cause too many problems. just don’t fall in love with me, babe.”

you smile at the new nickname, “likewise, hoon.” you continue throwing the clay, molding it to your desired shape. you hyperfocus on the sculpture, tuning out the boy sitting next to you as he watches—he catches on that you still have the habit of pouting whenever you work on your art. you hunch forward, letting some of your hair fall in front of your face. too caught up, you don’t notice that sunghoon left his seat to stand behind you. he takes your locks and ties it into a messy ponytail. you snap out of your tunnel vision to ask, “why do you just have a hair tie handy?”

“i always had to carry some around for you because you always lost them. i never grew out of it, i guess.” he grins warmly, “do you remember how many times you had complained when you would get paint in your hair and i would have to clean it up for you?”

“how could i forget?” the night ends with more laughs and reminiscing on your childhood. time really does fly faster than you think.

iv. rated pg

the bell rings as you and sunghoon enter the convenience store. you two are discussing the movie you two just watched as you walk through the aisles.

you split up agreeing to meet back at the register. you make your way to the drinks in the back while sunghoon goes to get snacks. you grab an iced jasmine tea for yourself and an iced vanilla latte for hoon. sunghoon yells over the stands as he browses, “hey, what should i caption for my insta post?”

you respond loudly, “i don’t know, something related to movies.”

sunghoon looks at the picture on his phone: a photo of you two snuggled up in the theater, most of your face hidden in his hoodie. he types in quickly “rated pg for park’s girl <3”, hits post, and goes back to browsing. he goes to grab bento boxes, honey butter chips, candy jellies, and practically everything his eyes landed on.

when you make it to the cashier, you see sunghoon with his arms full. “you good there, park?”

a muffled “yup” is heard behind all the food.

you look around, walking away when you find what you needed. going closer to him, “why didn’t you just grab a basket?” you start to take some things from his arms, lightening his load.

“i… uh… didn’t think of it.” he pauses in between, an embarrassed expression adorning his face. you giggle as you take everything to be rung up, missing how his ears turned red. you catch the worker’s name on his tag, jungwon. before you can take out your wallet to pay, sunghoon’s already entering his card into the machine. you whip your head around, ready to tell him off. “nope, do not look at me like that.” you roll your eyes at him as you grab the bag with what you just bought.

“oh come on… you can’t seriously be mad at me.” no response from you. “really? the silent treatment?” he scoffs jokingly when you cross your arms against your chest. he comes closer to bend down and wrap his arms around your waist. “it’s snacks. it’s not that big of a deal.”

you release yourself from his grasp and walk out of the store, still faking being mad. you mumble, “whatever,” under your beath but still loud enough for him to hear.

he bids jungwon a quick “have a nice night”, not missing him calling the two of you a cute couple. sunghoon meets up with you outside, already sitting on the curb of the parking lot.

v. pretty boy

the start of a new semester. en-4 are sitting out on the grass of the quad. surrounding them are various groups of students, typical for the buzzing campus on a crisp spring day.

“you need to cook the noodles first. end of discussion.” jake says sternly. he and heeseung are in a heated argument over the proper order of cooking ramen.

heeseung defends himself, “you are so wrong. you make the broth first to build the flavor.”

jay brings his attention up from his phone, “neither of you should be allowed anywhere near a kitchen.”

out of nowhere, a loud car horn is heard, drawing the attention of every student in the area. sunghoon looks up to find you leaning against the passenger door of your car and yelling, “hey, pretty boy! get in.” he chuckles at both the label and how bossy you sound, turning to his friends to grab his things. the three of them are stunned at him.

jake breaks first, “wait, what?”

heeseung lets go of his argument with the australian, “dude, are you seriously leaving?”

sunghoon only nods as he walks away, not letting them ask any more questions. he notices all the watching eyes and decides why not put on a show? he shouts out to you, “thought i was picking you up later, babe.” he makes sure to emphasize the nickname as his infamous smirk tells you exactly what his intentions are.

“lecture ended early, love. prof had some emergency. thought why not surprise you…” you wrap your arms around his shoulders as he reaches you and let him lay a quick peck on your cheek. “now come on, i’m taking you out on a date so either hop in or lose your chance. your choice but i don’t have that much patience so hurry up.”

“yes, ma’am,” he leans in closer and guides his hands lower from your waist. “but i’m driving,” he says as he sneakily takes your keys from your back pocket,

“you sly fox.” he laughs at the new nickname as he opens the door, letting you sit down before closing it. he makes his way around the hood, noting that all attention is still on you two. he meets eyes with his friends again, the three looking much like the faces he saw in the cafe almost six weeks ago. as he buckles in and starts the car, you rest your hand on top of his on the gear shift. he raises his eyebrows and gives you a charming smile. “by the way, why’s your friend looking at me like that?”

he looks back up to face the boys, “which one?”

“jay. since we started doing this, he keeps looking at me weird—like weirder than the others.”

he tilts his head to the side when he realizes that jay is indeed looking in your direction, but his eyes are focused solely on you. “jay is… how should i put this? you know what i’ll tell you later. for now, tell me where to?”

vi. jukebox

the hazy red glow of the neon lights and checkered tiled floors welcomed you as you led sunghoon into the local diner. this place was a staple in your childhood, your go-to hangout spot with the aforementioned boy when you were still in your youth.

“i will say, this is a nice surprise.”

you look up to sunghoon as he sits across from you in the vinyl booth seat, “i knew you would love it.” you laugh with each other as you get situated, seeing a young but tall—why is he so tall? he looks like he’s only a teenager—server coming towards your table.

“hey, i’m niki and i’ll be taking care of you guys today,” the giant says cheerfully. “anything i can start you guys with?”

sunghoon looks up at the boy to take your order swiftly, “two strawberry milkshakes, please.” you watch as niki nods and walks back to the counter.

“well, well, well, park… you remembered?” you question teasingly with a cocked eyebrow.

“you’ve always had a sweet tooth. no wonder you loved me so much,” his turn to turn up the typical park sunghoon charm.

you scrunch your face in annoyance, “you should become a comedian.”

“i will never get tired of your sarcasm. it really just… keeps me going.” his way of joking back. “stay here. i’ll be right back,” he says quickly as he looks behind you and gets out of his seat.

you wait patiently for him, assuming he’s just going to the restroom. unbeknownst to you, sunghoon is making his way to the jukebox on the other side of the restaurant. he flips through the song list, finally finding the one he wants. he quickly puts in the coins and sets it in the queue. as he turns to go back to you, he sees an engraving on the side. he runs his fingers along it as he inspects the writing. property of sunghoon and y/n. he thinks back to your last day of eighth grade when you two etched the label onto the wood. he joyfully walks back to your table, ready to let you know about the memory. he sits next to you now, resting his arm behind you and around your back,

“what took you so long, park?”

right as he’s about to explain, niki comes to your table, “two strawberry milkshakes. anything else i can get you two?”

you turn your head quickly to the boy sitting next to you, seeing his eyes are already focused on yours. “um… no, i, uh, think we’re good.” you stumble and stutter a bit. you watch him as he nods his head and walks away. regaining your composure, you ask sunghoon again, “so what did take you so long?”

once again, he gets interrupted. the sound of “purpose” by justin bieber playing over the speakers makes him stop. he gives you a second to register the song, “that’s why.”

you tilt your head down and look at him quizzically, “really? this is why?” you reach to your drink, sipping on the straw as you wait for his answer.

he mirrors your movement, nodding his head in confirmation. he too drinks from the tall glass, contrary to your use of a straw, he opts to drink straight from the rim. he pulls the milkshake away, leaving some on his upper lip.

you burst into quiet laughter, turning your gaze away to not spit out your own shake.

sunghoon furrows his eyebrows in confusion, “what’s so funny?”

you turn back to him, “you got a little something there, park.” you wipe away the liquid from his face with your thumb, popping into your own mouth to clean it up.”there, all good now.”

sunghoon freezes in his spot, trying to comprehend what just happened. it’s quick but he feels something. trying to shake off the foreign feeling, he turns to face forward again. he feels you lean into him, head resting on his chest. a small grin appears on his face, humming along to the justin bieber tune still playing.

“i missed hearing you sing.”

sunghoon looks down at the crown of your head, “really? you used to always tease me about it, though.”

you shake your head with a light laugh, “i never meant it. whenever you sang, it always calmed me. i used to think… if you didn’t pursue skating, you could’ve been a singer.”

“and then what? i would bring you around on tour everywhere and sneak you in backstage?”

“that could’ve been fun.” you now laugh louder than before, him along with you.

there it is again. sunghoon’s not sure what it is, trying to suppress the odd emotion. he sits there, cuddling up to you in the booth, finishing the strawberry milkshakes, just hoping you can’t hear the way his heart starts to beat faster.

sitting at the bar, snacking on fries, and trying to not be seen by you two are heeseung, jay, and jake. they ask themselves would they really be considered sunghoon’s friends if they didn’t follow them and stake out their date.

vii. nerds

sunghoon picked you up from the art department today. he showed up about ten minutes too early, and he got permission from your instructor to monitor your class from the back. he waited outside the door while you cleaned up, earning a few prying looks from your peers as they exited. as you drove back to his place, you agreed to have a movie marathon.

opening the door to his dorm, you say “we are watching star wars. luke, leia, and han solo are a way better trio than three child magicians.”

sunghoon defends his choice, “first of all, they’re wizards. second, i’m offended. harry, ron, and hermione use magic with their wands. all star wars has is weird weapons and robots.”

“they’re literally in space and excuse you, but does something called—oh, i don’t know—the force ring any bells? they’re jedis, duh.” you rolls your eyes, making your annoyance clear.

sunghoon stops in the hall, “harry potter has spells and potions.”

“star wars has chewbacca.” you stand next to him with your arms crossed.

definitively and matter-of-factly, sunghoon says, “quidditch.”

“you can’t seriously believe quidditch is praiseworthy?” you look at him crazily.

“you two are such nerds.”

you both freeze, turning to see the rest of en-4 sitting in the living room. in the midst of your argument, you both failed to notice the others were home. you realize that jay was the one to stop you two. you also realize it’s the dreaded time for the best friends to finally meet the “girlfriend”. sunghoon seems to realize it as well, reaching to intertwine your hands to both sell the act to his roomates and to calm you down.

he leads you into the living room, meeting eyes with the boys. “so… guys, this is y/n, my girlfriend.”

“it’s so nice to finally meet you! i’m jake. sunghoon here has been holding out on us. i mean, come on, it’s been like two months and he still hasn’t introduced you to us.” the australian continues on with his energetic and positive ramble, asking you questions about your relationship.

heeseung butts in to tell jake to slow down. “i’m heeseung. jake’s right though, you two started dating before winter break and we’re barely meeting you now. sunghoon is always hanging out with you and telling us everything about it. honestly, all i can tell you is to run while you still can.” the others all laugh at his antics.

sunghoon scoffs, “hey, i’m not that bad.”

you excuse yourself to get a drink from the kitchen. you can hear jake spitting out more questions like rapid fire to sunghoon as you walk away. you reach into the fridge, fishing out a water bottle.

behind you, jay enters quietly. “you two are cute together.”

you flinch at his voice, “geez, dude. almost gave me a heart attack.”

he chuckles under his breath and leans against the counter, “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. i met sunghoon at freshman orientation and we immediately became friends, but i’ve never seen him like this.”

“really hoping you mean that in a good way.”

“don’t worry, it is. you know… he only has a soft spot for you. the three of us are his best friends but he only ever smiles like that with you.” he sways his head back and forth as he rambles, taking a pause between his words. “stay with him. it’ll be good for everyone.”

you smile at his approval, “you wanna know something? he actually said you would be the hardest to win over. he said something about you being super protective over your friends… yet, at the same time you trust their judgement. he told me that when he and i got together, he wasn’t scared to tell you but more worried as to if you would like me.”

he smiles with you now, “that all he said about me?” he asks while raising his eyebrows in curiosity.

“he also mentioned that you’re a good cook.”

viii. proud

a professor of yours is holding their annual spring showcase for contemporary art. every year, a handful of students are chosen to join and display their art amongst other renowned artists. you happen to be one of the few, a top contender chosen for your abilities.

you’ve invited your friends, including en-4 to come by the studio and see your work—albeit a bit nervous for their reactions. you stand on watch by your section, greeting the patrons and waiting for the boys to arrive.

thankfully, they show up within the first hour of the gallery opening. they each show up looking professional and chic, sporting all-black fits—most likely at the hands of jay. sunghoon immediately finding you and leading the way for the rest. you welcome them in, explaining your collection, the concentration being “vulnerability.” the works are a mix of several mediums, majority being oil paint, each displaying a closeup of various people. the paintings show their bare faces, imperfections and blemishes with nothing to hide.

the night continues with more and more passing by, complimenting your collection. by the time the exhibition ends, you and sunghoon are the only ones left in the studio. he’s stayed in the same spot, eyeing one piece incredibly closely. throughout the entire showcase, he had kept going back to the one canvas. you join his side, linking your arm with his. “this one is my favorite,” you hear him say.

you look up to meet his eyes, “why this one?”

“because… it’s you.” you takes your arm out and moves to stand behind you, now wrapping himself around you and resting his chin in the crook of your neck. he holds your hands in his, “i am so proud of you. times like this, i am proud to call you my best friend.” he turns his head, kissing you once on your jaw, and then pulling slightly back to kiss you again on the cheek.

you turn around, hugging him closer with your arms around his shoulders, “thank you.” you hold each other for a few minutes. when you pull away, you lock eyes. you feel your heart beating against your chest and your breathing getting faster. you snap back to reality when you feel sunghoon’s lips on yours. you’re not sure why you tangle your fingers in his hair and kiss him back or why he grabs onto your waist while backing you into the wall. he continues placing pecks on the corner of you lips, creating a trail down to your neck. when you let out a sigh and say his name, he stops. there he stands, a few feet in front of you, awkward and unsure of what to do next.

he breaks the silence, “it’s late. i should drive you back home.” he watches as you slowly nod your head. the drive back to your apartment was dead silent. you tried to occupy yourself by looking out the window.

when he drops you off, he bids you a quick goodnight. “um… text me when you get back home.” sunghoon just looks forward, muttering “ok” before leaving.

in the elevator, you look at your reflection on the metal doors. you make your way inside your place and take a seat on your bed. your mind is too busy reliving the moments with sunghoon before. you try to comprehend what you should do but find yourself too tired, instead falling asleep and missing his text.

ix. spring break

it’s currently the middle of april and the boys have made you an honorary member of en-4. you and sunghoon have been pretending to be a couple and successfully tricking everyone for the last four months.

everyone has the week off for spring break. jay, being the generous guy he is, rented out a cabin in the mountains for the now five members of your friend group. you all rode in one car on the way up, and you totally didn’t fall asleep in the middle seat while cuddling into sunghoon’s side.

you all decide to settle into your rooms once you arrive. “so there are four rooms, two downstairs and two upstairs.” jay pauses, looking towards you and sunghoon, “i assume that you’ll be fine sharing one.”

you immediately answer, “yeah, for sure.” you look to see sunghoon avoiding your gaze, sensing knowing looks from the others. sunghoon and you already guessed that they would make the two of you share a room and truthfully, neither of you minded. growing up together meant a lot of sleepovers and sharing beds so this was no problem.

he continues on, “great, you guys can take the master bedroom on the second floor cause it has the most space. i’ll take the room next to you, heeseung and jake can take the two down here.”

everyone agrees and sets off to their assigned rooms. you and sunghoon drop your bags onto the mattress, starting to unpack. the interior is spacious, the tall glass sliding doors allow lots of natural light to come in. the room itself is cozy, king size bed with matching bedside tables, and a big fluffy area rug. you’re too distracted to notice that sunghoon has gone outside to the balcony. he leans against the railing, taking in the scenic views and the breeze, basking in the setting rust-colored sun. when you finally realize that he’s not next to you anymore, you silently make you way onto the balcony, wrapping your arms around sunghoon from behind.

he tenses up at the sudden contact, relaxing when he realizes it’s you. there it is again, his heart is acting up like at the diner. he’s noticed it more often—the way that whenever he sees you, his heart beats differently. this weird feeling in his chest, this warmth that only shows up around you. he gets lost in his thoughts, envisioning what could become of your situation.

“what’s got you so lost?”

your voice snaps him back to reality. he turns around to face you, “uh… nothing, just thinking.”

just when you want to question him further and talk about what happened at the showcase, a knock is heard on the door. sunghoon walks away, going to open the door. both of you can feel the awkward tension when he leaves his spot.

“hey, we’re kinda hungry so we’re gonna order some food and watch a movie downstairs,” jake informs you two when the door opens. “feel free to come down and join whenever.”

“yeah, we’ll be down in a bit,” sunghoon tells him as heeseung nods before leaving you two alone again. you both finish getting settled before heading downstairs. you gather around the couch as ponyo plays on the tv and you reach for a tray of sushi.

the night continues, the moon sitting high amongst the stars. after the movie, dinner, and some drinking games, everyone retires to their respective rooms. you plop yourself onto the bed, tired after the day’s activities. you hear sunghoon getting something from his bag along with the rustling of some plastic. you crane your head up to see him approaching you. he sits on the edge of the bed, now with fluffy headbands and face masks in hand.

you scoot back a bit, “nope. no way you are getting me to do that.”

he laughs lightly at your antics, “oh come on… let me take care of you, at least just for tonight. please.” he gives you a pleading look with pursed lips, dragging out the “please” to show how desperate he is.

that was the deciding point that led to a spa night. you both changed into comfier clothes, you borrowed one of his hoodies and sweatpants. sunghoon got settled in closer to you and you reached for his wrist to grab one of the elastic bands. you adjusted your position to sit on your knees, reaching up to tie his hair back. he, on the other hand, took one of the headbands to bring your hair back and away from your face.

by the time midnight rolled around, you two were snuggled under the comforter with face masks, surrounded by junk food, and on the fourth episode of some random netflix show. as the night continues, a wave of sleep starts to overtake both of you. you help each other take off the masks and clean up, getting distracted every few minutes because one of you would start messing around. the boys had stopped by to say goodnight, catching you two in the middle of a mild pillow fight. after sending them off, you fall asleep in each other’s arms, basking in the warmth of your shared embrace. heeseung had snuck in at one point and stole a few quick pictures to tease you two with.

the dawn breaking through the sheer curtains causes you to stir in bed. you turn to see the alarm clock on the nightstand say 6:02. untangling yourself from sunghoon’s grasp, you sneak outside. you climb up to sit on the rooftop, feeling the cool chill of the dewy morning. the time alone gives you a sense of serenity.

meanwhile, sunghoon moves under the covers, confused why he can’t feel you. his eyes open and he doesn’t find a trace of you in the room. worried, he gets up and quietly searches the house, making sure to not wake the others. he goes into the backyard, seeing a shadow on the ground with an unusual shape. he looks up to find you perched on the roof, facing the opposite direction. he eventually climbs up to sit next to you. he hesitates before getting closer and putting his arm around you. you sigh as you lean into him. there you both stay, watching the sun come over the horizon in a comfortable silence.

x. disaster averted

the following week, you all return to campus. needless to say, the break was well used—the days at the cabin mostly being spent at the lake or around the campfire. another day spent hanging out at en-4’s dorm after classes. sunghoon went out to pick up food for everyone. you are in his room, trying to cram for an upcoming test and failing miserably because the other three are all playing fifa way too loud.

while the boys are playing, the doorbell rings. jay gets up to check who it is, seeing a young girl and immediately recognizing her. he lets in yeji, sunghoon’s little sister. she casually joins the boys around the tv, catching up on whatever has been happening in their lives. sunghoon arrives back home within twenty minutes.

“i’m back with the food,” he shouts out loud enough for everyone to hear including you behind his closed bedroom door. he places the plastic bags on the table, looking up to see another face. “yeji? what are you doing here?”

she gets up to greet her brother, giving him a hug, “it’s my spring break and i wanted to stop by.” sunghoon then realizes that his family doesn’t know about him becoming friends with you again or about your current situation. he drags her into the kitchen hurriedly, “ok so here’s the thing… you remember y/n?”

“of course! she’s like my big sister.”

his breath gets caught in his throat for a second, “yeah, don’t call her that. anyways, her and i are friends again,” he sees yeji’s eyes widen with excitement and continues with his explanation before she can cut him off, “and she’s my girlfriend.”

“what?!”

sunghoon panics and covers her mouth with his palm, “fake girlfriend!” he rushes out the whisper. “the guys don’t know that our relationship isn’t real and i’d like to keep it that way. they don’t even know that we were friends beforehand. yeji, i’m begging you to go along with it. please do this for me.” he clasps his hands together in front of him with a pleading expression.

the young girl crosses her arms in front of her and pretends to think about it, “hmm… fine.”

sunghoon blurts out a chant of “thank you’s” not knowing that his sister only agreed cause she always thought that you and sunghoon would’ve been a good couple. he tells her to help the others set the table while he goes to you. he quickly explains what’s happening and you’re just excited that you get to see yeji again. you both leave his room and you make your own way to the living room, spotting the other girl and exchanging glances.

yeji stops what she’s doing to turn and face you, “who’s this?”

you answer back casually, “y/n. i’m a friend of the boys, and you are?”

“yeji, sunghoon’s younger sister.” she says it proudly, bringing a grin to the aforementioned boy.

“oh, you’re yeji? hoon was right… you are pretty.”

she tilts her head and cocks an eyebrow, questioning you “why would he tell you about me?”

jake chimes in like it’s second nature, “i mean, why wouldn’t he tell his girlfriend about his sister?” he states like it’s so obvious. “they’ve been together since december.”

“girlfriend?” she takes a step back in false shock, “since december? why didn’t i know about this?”

“what? i don’t seem like your brother’s type?”

“it’s not that. i’m just surprised he managed to get and keep a girlfriend. you’re like, way out of his league and he’s a loser.” one thing to know about yeji is that as much as she loves him, she will never miss a chance to tease her brother.

with a scoff, you finally hear sunghoon join in beside you, “not gonna lie, that one hurt a little.”

“i’m so telling mom,” she says with a mischievous smirk.

you laugh at sunghoon’s shocked face and smile at the younger park, “i like you, i think we’ll get along just fine.”

“i like you, too.” she looks at sunghoon, “keep her.”

everyone laughs at the interaction as they settle in to eat. sunghoon sits to your right while yeji sits on your left, wondering how his two favorite girls learned to be such good actresses.

xi. returning the favor

fast forward another month, the end of the semester means the dreaded finals week again. sunghoon has been, for lack of a better word, slacking on some of his classes and is now juggling to prepare for exams and revisions. couple that with yeji telling his mom about your “relationship” and her nonstop questions, all of this stress has been piled on. this all amounting to him getting sick.

now, sunghoon being sunghoon means that he pushed everyone away and hasn’t told you about his condition. luckily for him, you’ve been cooped up in your studio trying to finish your portfolio and also prepare for your exams. unluckily for him, the boys have gotten worried and heeseung called you.

which brings us to the present, sunghoon stuck in bed with a fever, congestion, and neglected notes. a knock on his door does nothing to help his headache but seeing your face meekly peek in makes him relax. “what are you doing here?” he asks hoarsely.

“did you really think i wouldn’t find out?”

he avoids your glare, “i didn’t want you to worry.”

“honestly i’m not upset that you’re sick, but that i had to hear it from your roommates.” you come closer to him, clearing out the scattered papers and textbooks from atop his bed. you sit on the edge, taking out some medicine and cooling packs that you picked up from the convenience store.

“you really don’t have to do this,” he twiddles his fingers in embarrassment.

you tie back his hair and place one of the packs on his forehead, “you’ve always been the one taking care of me, so i might as well return the favor.”

you busy yourself with getting the cough medicine ready and sunghoon takes an actual look at you. he notices that you’re wearing his old skating jacket, the same one he gave you at your high school graduation. he makes more room under the covers, allowing you to come closer and lay next to him. he drapes one arm over you and holds onto the end of the jacket sleeve, “i can’t believe you kept this.”

“we stopped hanging out and we weren’t in each other’s lives for a year and a half after being together basically since birth,” you pause, a little saddened thinking back. “this was the last thing i ever got from you. it’s all i had left.”

he brings you closer, neither of you caring if you got sick. “well… now you have me again. for good.”

xii. the party

the end of the school year has finally arrived. some seniors from the txt frat are hosting a big party to celebrate. of course, en-4 was invited—mostly thanks to heeseung being close with them. although you have made more friends and now have a more active social life, parties are still not your thing.

yet, much to your dismay, being friends with designated party people means that you’re getting bombarded with pleas to go regardless. sunghoon took the lead on convincing you, “please, i promise that it’ll be fun.” the boys join in, their voices overlapping. sunghoon practically tackles you onto your couch while pouting and furrowing his eyebrows in desperation.

“stop looking at me like that. i can’t think properly when you do that.”

right on cue, the boys start to tease you. jay clears his throat and jake makes kissing noises, meanwhile heeseung starts singing y/n and sunghoon sitting in a tree… while you just glare at them.

“if i say i’ll go, will you all leave me alone?”

they all shout “yes” in unison. which is how you ended up at the crowded frat house. although they had begged you to come, they practically abandon you and sunghoon when you get there. jake had yelled back to you that his friend sunoo from his econ class called them over for beer pong.

you and sunghoon find a big bean bag in the corner and stay there for a bit. he offers to get you both some drinks and leaves to the kitchen. you’re not sure how long he’s gone but you eventually get uncomfortable. you start wandering the house for some space to get some air. you find an empty room and make your way into the connected bathroom to wash your face. you take some deep breaths, then realizing that you didn’t tell sunghoon. as you’re about to step out, he enters the room.

“i figured you would want some space.”

“how’d you know where i was?”

he comes up closer to you, “in the sea of people, in this mess, in this frenzy… i will always find you. no matter what happens or who comes into my life, i always find my way back to you.”

“what the hell is that even supposed to mean, park?”

“i mean…” he stops to compose himself, “oh for fucks sake, i’m tired of this being pretend. i’m tired of being allowed to call you my girlfriend in public but not treat you like it in private. when i kissed you at the showcase, i had wanted to do that for so long, and i’ve been wanting to do even more.”

“sunghoon, look-”

“wait, i’m not done. what i’m trying to say is that i want you to be my girlfriend, for real this time—not as a joke, not as a trick. i want us to be together as an actual couple because i like you, a lot more than you could believe-”

you cut him off this time, kissing him like he did all those weeks ago. you kissed him in the way that you weren’t sure what words to say other than, “i would love to be your girlfriend.”

sunghoon shines with the biggest smile, picking you up and spinning around. when he lets you down, he incessantly leaves pecks all over your face. he holds you close, “now, how about we go enjoy the party?”

you nod and lead him hand in hand towards the door. you turn the nob, only to have the three remaining members of your friend group fall at your feet. heeseung landing on top, shouting out, “i fucking knew it!”

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shokobuns · 4 years

Text

“𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫?”

satoru likes to show off.

PAIRING(S): gojo satoru x f!reader x sukuna ryomen, ex fuck buddy!sukuna ryomen x f!reader, boyfriend!gojo satoru x f!reader

GENRE: smut, college!au, some fluff/humor

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: smut, threesome (i think), voyeurism, dubcon (for voyeur), masturbation (m) unprotected sex, creampie, overstim, size kink, squirting, mentions of a blowjob, marking, gojo clingy asf in public, mentions of public sex, a lot of praise

“Oh, sorry— Sukuna?”

The strawberry blonde smirks at you and a familiar sense of uneasiness overcomes your body. Your hand shakes slightly, the liquid content making small sloshes that spill over the cup. He notices this first and grabs your wrist, his much larger hand steadying yours. “No first name basis anymore, Princess?”

You look back down at your feet, memories flooding through your mind of the old nickname that spills from his lips. You don’t miss him, you truly don’t, but you do know that he gets a kick out of your own humiliation and that’s what makes you feel nervous. He’s shameless and it’s impossible to stir a reaction of unpleasantness. And he pushes your buttons whenever he can with no effort.

It all reminds you of the time his cock would be stuffed down your throat nearly every night.

You hate remembering those times, simply because they were filled with undeniable pleasure and it was so easy for him to make you feel good. He helped you take your mind off of a certain white haired bastard during a time of conflicting feelings just by plowing you into his mattress — or into the wall of a bathroom — relentlessly, treating you as if you were just a doll. And he filled you to the brim every time, hot and warm, praising your tight little pussy, squeezing your throat while waves of euphoria crashed into you all at once. The memories make you shudder when they flood for just a moment, but a call of your name reminds you why you got the drink in the first place.

“Bunny! Over here!” he raises his hand, slouching and taking up space on the couch. You sigh because it’s definitely a move to get you to sit in his lap.

“Ah, I see. Have fun, Princess.” Sukuna’s hand pats your back, urging you forward to your boyfriend.

You mumble a quiet ‘Thanks’ before taking your spot on Satoru’s thighs, his arms caging in your body while his head rests in the crook of your neck, placing the occasional kiss. His hands keep a firm grip on your thigh and you lean into his touch like usual as he continues his conversation with Suguru. It’s a natural position for the both of you because one thing you learned about Satoru was that he loved to show off.

He loved to leave shameless marks where everyone can see them, loved to grope you in public, loved to hold you tight anytime he had the chance. And you enjoyed every minute, relishing the feeling of your boyfriend making assertions through acts of affection. He’s needy, clingy even, and there was something appealing about the way he would always display it. He takes pride in the fact he can read you like a book, noting small actions that signified big feelings.

So when a certain blonde haired bastard sat down three feet away from the two of you, chatting away about things you don’t even bother to listen to you, of course he notices how you hide your face into his chest slightly, making yourself seem smaller than you usually were. His fingers lace through yours, not without him taking note of how sweaty your palms are, and his thumb brushes over your hand comfortingly. A soft kiss is planted on top of your head mid conversation and Sukuna thinks it’s funny.

It’s funny how no matter times you’ve come apart under him, you still manage to find someone else, and it’s nothing about wanting your heart and your hand marriage, two things that Satoru wouldn’t hesitate to give you. It’s about how he knew that he was one of the best fucks of your life and as egotistical as it is, there’s some curiosity about if your current boyfriend was able to provide the same quality. Before you were Satoru’s love, you were Sukuna’s favorite plaything.

“You okay, Princess?” he asks, no sign of guilt shown on his face or heard in his tone.

“Princess?” Satoru questions, eyebrows raised, “Do you know him, Bunny?”

You sigh, readjusting your position until your arm is sling around his neck and he holds you almost like a baby in his lap. “Yeah. Had a class with him.”

To Sukuna, the situation went from funny to hilarious. So this is all Satoru would know. It’s not like he has a huge problem with your past relationship being undisclosed, in fact, he understands where the hesitancy comes from, but he’d rather watch everything unfold while you try to keep a straight face. It’s pure entertainment for him, but pure embarrassment for you and that’s exactly what amuses him.

“Seems like you two are friends or something, Baby.” He pouts, waiting for an actual answer. You glare at him, a silent plea for him to drop the topic. “Well, yeah. We had to work together on a few assignments, dumbass.”

“Ah, alright,” he makes a mental note to find out what’s bothering you later and continues on with his conversation with the two other men, observing Sukuna’s line of sight. He makes sure to plant extra kisses and light nibbles on the skin of your shoulder from time to time, each one eliciting small whines. Although he knows that the pink blonde wouldn’t care anyways, it’s an extra precaution and another silent assertion. It’s not the first time he’s interacted with Sukuna before and he has a feeling it wouldn’t be the last either.

“Bunny?”

You respond by humming into his chest, breathing in the entirety of his scent, you hand resting on the side of his cheek. His arm wrapped around your body protectively, legs tangled together and his body providing you with warmth. One hand strokes your hair as you adjust your head to look directly into his cerulean eyes which never failed to make you sigh. His lips are pursed together, as if he’s thinking of the right words to say, and you wait patiently for him to speak.

“How do you really know him?” he asks softly, “I won’t get mad, I promise.”

You take a deep breath in, an internal debate brewing in your mind, but you ultimately decide that it’s best to not lie to your own boyfriend. Especially if you wanted to marry him one day. “We were fuck buddies.” you mutter, just loud enough for him to barely hear you.

“Oh?” he smirked, his expression of concern replaced by curiosity, “When?”

“Well- uh,” you stumble over your words, the answer on the tip of your tongue. You’re not sure how he’ll react, but you’re already in too deep and you’ve already decided you wouldn’t lie to him. “We ended it months ago. Nothing to worry about it, plus if you know Sukuna, he’s not really the type to get attached, anyways.”

“That’s true,” he agrees, recalling each time he saw him with a new girl on his arm, “But exactly how many months ago?”

“S-Six.”

“Funny, that’s how long we’ve been dating, isn’t it?” he asks, an idea brewing in his mind.

“There was no overlap, I promise-”

“Don’t worry, Bunny. I know you wouldn’t do that,” he pauses, his mind overflowing with questions as he tries to pick out the next one, “How long?”

“A year.”

“Long time, huh?” he comments, “Did you love him?”

“No! I swear, Toru, I was trying to forget you!”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, dumbass! I was in love with you!”

“Aww, my little bunny had a crush on me.” he teased, kissing the crown of your head.

“Shut up!”

“Don’t worry,” his fingers rub circles into your hip reassuringly, “I had a crush on you, too.”

You smile while he readjusts your position until your back is to his chest with his chin resting on top of your head. His fingers interlace with yours, resting near your face. With one final kiss on your head, you’re just about ready to drift off.

“Does he fuck better than me?”

“Satoru!”

“I’m just asking!”

“No, no he doesn’t,” you close your eyes, before pressing your ass harder to his crotch, “You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“Really?” he grins, bringing your body closer to his.

“Really.”

You weren’t lying.

And this is reaffirmed with every little moan that leaves your lips as he leaves kisses down your body. Satoru knows all of your sweet spots, his tongue swiping your bottom lip and entering your wet cavern, wet kisses down your neck, teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder. His mouth latches on your nipple at the same time he shoves his length into your hole so suddenly. You’re already dripping down the sheets, walls fluttering while his thumb circles over your pearl. His mouth leaves you, your body still trembling from the sensation. “Already coming? I just put it in, Bunny.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, “Feels s’ good, Toru.”

“Yeah?” he replies, his hands holding your waist as he starts driving his cock into you as if you were a doll. His mouth comes back to your breast, licking the little dark nubs before biting down on the soft flesh. You’re lightheaded while your tight cunny barely adjusts to the stretch, his thick cock making your back arch and your nails sink into his shoulder. Your vision is foggy, barely processing the other man sitting in the corner of Satoru’s bedroom.

One thing you notice is that he’s rough today. Of course, he’s always rough, but you’re sure there’ll be more purple blooming all over your body than usual. His hands squeeze the fat of your hips so hard that they’re already becoming sore, but he fills you up in a way that hits every single spot inside of you. Despite how big he is, your little cunny swallows him whole, sucking him in like a vacuum and he groans into your shoulder at the tight feeling. “So perfect for me, aren’t ya?”

“Cumming, Toru,” you whine out, an intense feeling of pleasure forming in your lower belly.

“Then cum. But I’m not stopping.”

You nod, tears spilling from your eyes and flowing down your face as your walls convulse and flutter around his throbbing cock. You’re staring into pools of blue that gaze back at your trembling body in awe and it all makes you feel like you’re floating. He wasn’t lying and you know this for sure because there’s no time to recover, not when he’s still pounding into your cervix like he has something to prove. Your tits jiggle with every thrust into your quivering hole, the headboard violently banging into the wall. It’s not that long until your second orgasm is crashing into you, Satoru’s fingers playing with your little clit. He really isn’t going to stop any time soon.

And finally, even though your eyesight is hazy, you make out the mysterious man in the corner of the room.

Sukuna.

He’s looking at you with dilated pupils, the pink tip of his cock weeping with precum, swiping it with every pump. His hips come up to meet his hand as he focuses on how your tiny pussy takes in Satoru’s cock over and over again. It’s the lewd sobs and squelches that fill up the air of the room and the slick staining the bed that cause him to groan involuntarily. He’s shameless, fucking his fist at the sight of you spread out and your boyfriend is right there. No wonder he’s fucking you like he has something to prove.

You told him that he was the best and, of course, he had to prove it. But not to you.

It doesn’t matter because you love the way he’s fucking you right now. There’s no time for you to rest, only Satoru rhythmically pistoning his cock into your creaming cunny while Sukuna watches closely, observing how your clenching hole takes him in. After using his mouth to litter your breasts with purple bruises, he pins your knees to your chest and his cock somehow reaches even deeper than before. His thrusts become faster and faster, more and more erratic while the sudden change in position makes you squeak. “Bet you love being treated like a fucking doll, huh, Bunny?”

“M-Mhm,” you squeal, unable to form a proper answer, “love it, s’much!”

Skin slaps against skin, another knot forming in your belly. Your clit is pinched between his fingers, making you sob out his name. His lips come down to kiss your open mouth while holding your body flush against him as your cunt gushes and squirts all over his stomach and your thighs. Your walls clamp down at the same time he stills, pumping his hot seed as far into you as he can. You’re milking him for all he’s worth and he lets out soft praises that make you flustered. The sticky mess leaks all over when he pulls out, but he doesn’t leave to get a towel like usual because he’s noticed that the man in the corner of the room is still hard despite the mess on his shirt.

“Bunny?”

“Hmm?” you respond, still taking deep breaths from the intense sex you had just seconds before.

“What do you think of giving your old fuck buddy a ride?”

You purse your lips. For one, you have Satoru’s permission, but one thing about Sukuna’s dick was that it was huge, bigger than your current boyfriend, and you’re not sure if you’d be able to take it again. But there’s a feeling of nostalgia that fills your chest seeing it all over again and you remember all the nights he’s given you before.

“What d’ya say, Princess?”

The old nickname prompts you to walk over, Satoru’s cum still dripping down your inner thigh, and straddle Sukuna’s lap. You steady yourself by holding onto his shoulder, slowly sinking your ruined pussy onto the tip and going down until you’re halfway through his cock. But he’s impatient, immediately gripping your hips and thrusting upwards, forcing you to take the entirety of his length. The stretch burns, it hurts like a bitch, but it only makes the experience even more thrilling.

Your head is thrown back and Satoru comes from behind, kissing your neck reassuringly while Sukuna takes control, fucking your boyfriend’s cum back into your womb. As two large hands guide you up and down his cock, your overstimulated cunny creams around him, tightening in a way that makes it harder for him to move. Satoru’s hands from from behind to play with your tits and it’s all so much, the different sensations coming together while you’re helpless, unable to differentiate who’s who. “You’re always so fucking tight, Princess,” he praises, groaning out as your walls clamp down. “Even after getting fucked by your little boyfriend, huh?”

Your pussy adjusts to his size just like before, a mix of your slick and Satoru’s leftover cum dribbling down Sukuna’s balls. He drives his cock into you with brute force, inconsiderate of the fact you’ve already been treated like a ragdoll. With one more brutal thrust, you’re melting, overcome by a feeling of pure bliss. He spills into you, the warm feeling in your womb making your head dizzy. “Good job, Princess.” he smirks as Satoru carries you off his lap bridal style and sets you gently onto his bed.

You’re just about ready to drift off, unable to make out the conversation of the two men in the room. Once Sukuna leaves with a wave and a ‘Thanks, Princess” you use the last of your energy to pull Satoru back on the bed and hold onto him like a clingy child. “What was that about?”

“Wanted to show that cocky bastard that I was the best.”

You laugh before pressing your lips to his cheek and appreciatively gazing at his pretty face. “But you are the best.”

“I know.” he smirks, returning the favor by bringing you into a wet kiss, “Round two? With just the two of us?”

“It’s round three for me, dumbass.”

“The offer still stands.”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

943 notes · View notes

randomshyperson · 3 years

Text

The Scarlet Witch Prophecy - Chapter 20 - Agatha's Memories (Part Two)

My official gif maker @abimess, thank you.

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Howard Stark, you have ordinary expectations for your years at Hogwarts. Little do you know what adventures await you when your destiny is intertwined with the legendary Scarlet Witch.

Warnings: +16. Adaptation of the Harry Potter Saga, Magical Thematic, Prophecies, Mentions of Violence, Torture and dark magic, Language (swearing and minor/major offenses), manipulation of will, Underage kissing, insinuation of smut with minors, Smut (overage), descriptions of death, aggression, obscurity, angst, fluffy, soulmates analogies.

Series Masterlist || Read on AO3 || All Works Masterlist

Chapter 20 - Part XX - Agatha's Memories (Part Two)

You don’t sleep for long, there is a sound of something breaking that makes you blink confusedly as you move on your bed.

Then you realize that it is the wood up your head that is moving, along with a red magic that you know very well.

You look forward, only to find Wanda with an impassive look on her face as she merges the bed into one.

“I’m sleeping with you from now on.” She says simply as she finishes, and you lay back on the mattress, not sure of what to say about that.

You hold your breath as you hear her taking off her shoes, changing to her pajamas next, staring on the roof of the tent as she does it.

She pulls the blanket to lie down, and then is mimicking your position.

"Would...would it be okay if I hugged you?" she asks after a moment, and you feel your heart race.

"I'd like that." You mumble clumsily, turning to the opposite side.

And it takes half a second for Wanda to wrap her arms around your waist, burying her face in your shoulders, inhaling your perfume and making you blush heavily.

Your legs entwine from underneath the comforter, and you feel more secure than you ever have before.

"I'm sorry." She murmurs against your skin. You think she is talking about what happened with the horcrux, and you just nod softly, but she repeats the apology against your ear, intertwining her hands in front of your belly, and you realize she is talking about everything.

"I love you." She confesses next, and you feel your eyes fill with tears.

The hug gets tighter, and you sink your face into the pillow, allowing yourself to cry.

And Wanda doesn't let go, even when you sob, and it takes a while, but you finally fall asleep. And when you do, she stays.

//-//-//-//

You woke up first. And you don’t wanna get up. Not when you have Wanda wrapped around you like this, your face buried her neck, as you both turned around during the night, and now your legs are completely entwined, and you are practically lying on top of her.

And all you do is sink even deeper against her body, sighing against her skin. She smells so good.

"-morning." She whispers hoarsely, still with her eyes closed, her hands around your body moving slowly against your back down and up, and you just murmur into her skin wishing you could stay in that moment forever.

"We should get up." Wanda says after a moment in silence, not seeming to really wish to do so.

"No, thank you." You retort and your voice comes out muffled against her neck, the vibration making her laugh.

"We need to darling, I think we have some lessons. "She says and you mumble softly, the curiosity to pursue the story Agatha was telling is enough to make you pull away.

But when you are about to let go of Wanda, she pulls on your forearm, and you look at her with confusion, but she moves forward and kisses you firmly.

It's slow, and soft. It makes you sigh, so you kiss her back, sinking right back onto the bed as her hands wrap around your hair to deepen the kiss.

When her tongue asks for passage, you see stars, melting under her touch. Wanda smiles against your lips, pulling you by the shoulders to lie on top of her.

But before you can do so, the sound of footsteps catches your attention, along with a soft hiss, and you grumble before pulling away.

Throwing your face back into the pillow, you try to calm your breathing and rapid heartbeat as Agatha strolls through the tent, until she comes to your room.

"Are the sleeping beauties going to get up, or should I bring coffee in bed?" She teases with her arms crossed as Wanda hides her smile as she notices your state. "You two know this isn't a honeymoon trip, right?"

"Stop being so bitter, Agatha." Wanda complains as she sits up. "We'll be right there."

"And a good day to us, ladies." The older witch retorts before leaving.

Wanda laughs softly, turning her attention back to you as you scramble up on the bed to sit down as well.

"How are you?" she asks, intertwining your hands on top of the mattress, and you let your gaze roam over her face, biting your lips against the urge to kiss her again.

"Fine." You murmur half hoarsely, from sleep or lust, Wanda will never know. "And you?"

"Better." She says with a nod, and you feel your heart race. Better with you here.

Wanda squeezes your hand before letting go, and she stands up, looking at you one last time before walking off toward the bathroom.

You sigh as you throw yourself back against the mattress, trying to push away the feeling of her tongue against yours and focus on the fact that you were even closer to completing your mission with one less horcrux to destroy.

//-//-//-//

“Where are we now?” You asked as you observed the surroundings. It’s the entrance of an old garage, in the corner of a city. But the real Agatha ignores your question as she guides you two inside, further into the memory.

Your dad, just a teen boy, maybe eighteen, is inside, working on a large machine, it seems that he was really a muggle mechanic, since there were cars all around, dismantled or not.

"Stark." It is Agatha from the memories who says, and startles your father slightly, who almost drops the screwdriver. But when he looks up, he smiles.

"Professor Harkness!" He says getting up, and wiping the grease on his apron quickly before greeting her. "You really did it!"

"I told you I would come." She says, and you are surprised at the affectionate way she looks at your father, "Look at you, Howard, you're so grown up."

Your father laughs, bowing his head softly. "Thank you, professor."

"I only say that because I've known you since you were a child." She humorously clarifies. "And now you are even growing a mustache. Tell me, do muggle girls like that sort of thing?"

Your father laughs with flushed cheeks, and Agatha follows him. Before they can say anything, there are voices and the sound of footsteps approaching, and soon, two people enter.

Wanda chokes softly next to you. "Mama."

You also recognized Magda, because you have seen pictures before. She had the same appearance as in the photos, and you were saddened by this, because she must have died not so long after this memory.

Erik stood beside her, wearing muggles like the woman next to him.

"Professor Harkness, you made it!" He greets politely, hurrying to shake the witch's hand as she smiles. "It's so good to see you again! This is Magda, my wife."

"It's a pleasure, dear."

The memory speeds up, you want to fight Agatha for cutting off Wanda's moment of seeing her mother properly, but the way Wanda strokes her thumb against your hand makes you give up saying anything.

The scene settles down in what you think is the apartment at the top of the garage where they were, all around a table, drinking beers.

"You guys know why I came all this way, don't you?" Agatha says, and seems to have just had a short pause in the conversation, as if everyone had been laughing before and suddenly got quiet. And the tension only increases with her comment.

Her father sighs, nodding. "There is no daily prophet here, but I have met some travelers. They are talking about a war, Agatha." He says worriedly. "But I want to hear it from you. Do you really think that could happen?"

Agatha gives a humorless laugh. "It's already happening." She says, placing her beer on the table, and straightening her posture. "The minister of magic waited too long. And now, this group, these so-called death walkers, or whatever ridiculous name they are thinking of trying, are everywhere. In the ministry, in the diagonal alley, in the Order."

Your father looks really upset, but you notice how uncomfortable Erik looks.

"And do you really think that's what they're after, Agatha?" He asks. "War. Do you think that's what the walkers are after?"

The teacher raises her eyebrow slightly. "What else could it be, besides chaos and complete destruction of our society, Erik?"

His former teacher is unaffected by the snickering, he just gives a half-hearted laugh. " Well, freedom of course." He says, clearing his throat softly. "See, that time we've been here. New York is fascinating. Things are bad for muggles it's true, but for the rest of us, damn. The wizards are doing just fine. They have so much magic here, so much freedom to study what they want. The ministry encourages the discovery of new areas, gives financial support to researchers!"

Agatha crosses her legs, listening to Erik's speech carefully.

When he realizes that he may be defending Mephisto's group too much, he pauses, straightening up. "I'm just trying to say that maybe a change in the British government is exactly what our society needs to evolve, Agatha."

"You know, when Fury told me he wanted to recruit you boys to the order, I told him that children don't fight wars." She declares and you see the boys widen their eyes. "You two know that Katherine is dead, right? That Nick took over leadership of the order in his mother's place, and the first names he wanted were yours."

Your father nods, as does Erik.

"Well, I didn't agree." She says. "I said I knew other wizards, more experienced, more trustworthy. Wizards who didn't flee their homeland to live the American dream."

"That's not-" Your father begins but the look in Agatha's eyes makes him shut up.

"Nick insisted that I come here." She continues. "He said that you have kept in touch by correspondence, and that you continue to have the same, what was the word, moral inclination. But now I wonder if he was really right about that."

"I didn't mean to say that the walkers are right!" Erik exclaims defensively, looking embarrassed, but Agatha just smiles.

"Don't worry, honey." She says as she leans in. "I think that kind of moral difference is exactly what makes this whole conflict interesting."

"That's sadistic of you, Agatha." Howard comments seriously. "We're talking about a war."

"Don't be hypocritical now, Howey." She retorts with a wicked smile. "You think I don't know who the travelers you've been talking to are? Say, the magical trafficking laws are simpler in America, aren't they?"

Your father locks his jaw, but keeps his face up.

"I did what I needed to do to survive here." He says simply, and Agatha laughs.

"Of course you did." She says. "So did we all. And now we have a potential battle ahead of us, something that could change the course of wizarding life for future generations. Tell me, do you intend to stand here fixing machines and pretending that your friends are not dying for your freedom? And I thought you were tired of this kind of attitude, golden boy."

Your father stands up, enraged. But he says nothing, and swallows his pride. He gives Erik one last look before leaving the room.

Agatha sighs softly, turning her attention back to Erik, who has his fists clenched in his lap.

"You know very well that the situation is not so simple." He says and Agatha smiles.

"And you know it's him don't you?" She retorts and Erik clenches his jaw.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you know very well, Erik." Agatha insists. "When I fired him, he didn't stay in England. He came to America with his favorite student."

"Keep your voice down." Erik quickly retorts, looking back a moment before leaning forward. "It's not what you think."

"But I don't think anything." She says. "I'm exactly giving you the chance to explain yourself, before I draw my own conclusions."

Erik takes a deep breath, and turns to Magda, squeezing her hands.

"Honey, can you give us a minute?" He asks, and Wanda's mother looks like she's going to say no, before nodding.

She walks off in the same direction as her father, and then Erik and Agatha are alone.

"Professor Faustus has asked me for support, Agatha." He says. "He was out of a job, and with his name tainted with rumors that no one has proven. And he never treated us badly, so I helped him."

"You kept this from Howard? I thought you were best friends." Agatha teases but Erik laughs humorlessly.

"Of course not." He says. "Who do you think paid for the tickets?"

"Interesting." She says. "Why tickets?"

"Because he was being investigated for the dark magic rumors." Erik says. "The ministry put a blocker on him. Any magic he tried to do would go straight to the minister's notes. And well, he needed Howey's help to remove the device from behind his neck."

"While he was hiding, I imagine he told you about his wonderful ideas."

"No, Agatha." He says. "Faustus just looked tired. And he felt betrayed, mostly by you. But in general, he complained, and studied. Howey and I would work all day, and he would stay in his room, among the magic books, unable to conjure anything, not even a light spell. I've never seen him so frustrated."

"I'd feel sorry for him, if that wasn't his fault." Agatha murmurs and Erik sighs in agreement.

"A few months after we arrived, Howey got it." Erik recounts. "Tivan gave him the materials he needed, and he freed Faustus from the blocking device in his skin. He thanked us, said he'd write, and then disappeared. We never heard from him again, but the letters from Fury started coming in the next months."

"Did Howard suspect?"

"No." Erik says squirming uncomfortably in his chair. "Howard trusted him, mostly because of the way he stood up for him in school. About supporting him to study mechanics, even if no one else would. But I knew I had to be smart after what happened with Raven."

"He tried to recruit you?"

Erik sighs. "No, Agatha. But he will."

"I know." She says. "That's why I came."

" I should have guessed that you don't make friendly visits, even to your best students."

Agatha laughs softly, leaning her arm on the carpet. "You think just because you can conjure a patronus you're my best student, Erik? I helped establish the order of merlin. You are not even remotely the most talented wizard I have taught."

"You are hurting my feelings." The man jokes, making the other woman smile.

"How will this work then, Erik?" She asks. "Are you going to accept Fury's offer? Or will you follow your heart?"

The man smiles, standing up. "That just concerns me, and my wife, don't you think?"

"Actually, no." Agatha retorts without sounding angry as Erik moves to collect the beer bottles and put them in the trash. "In fact, I think you even need to leave her."

Erik laughs in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"A muggle, Erik." She says as if it's obvious. "You're going to drag her into a war? That's cruel."

"Magda is stronger than you imagine."

"I'm sure she is." The witch says getting up as well. "But that is until she is hit by the first spell."

“Agatha, please.”

“Muggles can't handle magic like we can, Erik." She insists seriously. "You know that. A simple stupefy could kill her."

"I love her." He says turning away. "And I'm not going to England without her. If she decides to stay, then I will too."

"That's disappointing." Agatha comments, but Erik doesn't flinch, crossing his arms. The witch sighs. "Then do me a favor. Howard, at least he, needs to go. We can't afford to lose allies."

"I'll talk to him." Erik assures. "But you know that with all that his father has done, he doesn't want to go back to London anytime soon."

"This is so much bigger than a family feud." Agatha retorts. "Tell him that, and he'll feel guilty enough to accept it."

"Your mind games are wicked, professor." Erik says before nodding in agreement, leaving.

Agatha sighs, getting pensive.

Just then Magda walks back into the room.

"Miss Harkness?"

"Hello, dear."

"I just came to ask if you're going already? Erik looked upset, but I can walk you to the door. It's good manners."

The memory shakes until they are outside, and Magda leads her to the same place she should have appeared before.

"Please, before you go, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, sweetie."

Magda hesitates, but takes a deep breath and says. "If Erik stays, what are the chances of this war reaching us?"

Agatha looks at the woman for a moment. "I don't think there is a way to escape what is happening in England, Magda. And if we lose, it's not just the witches who will suffer the consequences."

Magda nods in understanding, then steps forward. "Tell me how I can help you."

"He wouldn't approve, but I can't watch everything fall apart around us. Tell me how I can help."

Agatha smiles, touching Magda's shoulder. You hold your breath, as does Wanda, who also notices the magic in the witch's fingertips, and the purple color in her eyes.

"Leave him, dear." She says. "But it needs to be natural, okay? As best as I can, he must not suspect it was my idea. Erik would never put you in danger, but he wouldn't leave you alone either. So you need to end it all."

Magda has tears in her eyes, but she just nods mechanically. And the memory becomes blurred.

Wanda is tense beside her, and you are silent.

"That doesn't make sense." You mutter. "Carol told me that Magda was in Sokovia, and that-"

"She's not my mother, is she?" Wanda cuts you off, looking at the floor. The real Agatha sighs, as you look at the two in confusion.

"How could you tell?" She asks.

"I don't have her eyes."

It was a funny detail about the few pictures of Magda that Erik had in the Maximoff house. All the pictures were old, because they were from muggles. And they were never sharp enough in detail, just good enough for you to be able to recognize the woman in the recollection.

Agatha laughs softly. "Is that all Erik told you about your mother? That you had her eyes?"

Wanda squeezes your hand, and with the other she wipes her cheek.

"Just show me the truth at once, Agatha."

"As you wish."

//-//-//

You stumble gently as you get used to the dirt floor that has stabilized at your feet.

"Are you okay?" You whisper to Wanda, but she just nods, smiling weakly before looking back at the memory forming in your eyes.

You were startled by the bright lights in the sky, recognizing them immediately as wandering spells.

Someone just fought here, and it was no small fight.

"Agatha!" Erik shouted, approaching quickly, coming from the corner as if he had been hiding until now, and the teacher had emerged.

Wanda also held her breath as she noticed the large cut on his forehead, the blood dripping down his face.

"T-They've surrounded us..." He says breathlessly, his wand in fists as he stumbles to get closer. "We narrowly won and-"

"Calm down boy." Agatha says as she holds his shoulders, working quickly to heal his wounds. "Where are the others?"

"Further away." Erik replied visuvelmettely exhausted. You could tell he was a little older than the last memory, but he was still young. "Back to the mansion.

"Good, they' ll be safe there." She says as she helps Erik stand properly. "Where's Natalya?"

And Erik chokes, sobbing. You frown in confusion, and Agatha makes a pitying face.

"Oh, Erik."

He cried, shrugging. "She was.... She tried to gain ground. She hit four of them at once. But... But she-"

And he sobbed, and Agatha didn't insist, hugging him.

"I'm sorry, Erik." She whispered.

And the memory trembled until they were back on the mansion's dirt path, almost at the iron driveway, the man visibly calmer, though quite shaken.

"Erik, what about the children?" Agatha asks as she stops walking in front at the gate.

The man looks on the verge of tears again, but only sighs.

"I have no idea, Agatha." He says. "No place is safe in the UK anymore. I can't leave the order to look after them, I don't know what to do."

And Agatha looks at him a moment, before nodding. "I will help you."

You see many flashbacks of memories, Agatha greeting injured order members, then going back to write letters, and checking the news. You think you see flashes of fights too, big duels, before everything stabilizes again.

It's Magda in front of you, and she looks more mature too.

"Years ago, you asked me how I could help you." Agatha spoke behind you, and you startled yourself by jumping to the side, and watching intently as the witch touched Magda's hands. "You saved yourself by leaving him. But you will save his life and the rest of the wizarding world if you accept what I am about to ask of you."

Magda's eyes widened, but she nodded after a moment. Agatha waved her hands, and a cart approached you.

"Run away, Magda." She says. "Their mother had a house, enchanted to protect from invaders on a hill in a small country in Europe." Agatha explains as Magda lets out a surprised exclamation at the babies in the stroller.

"They... are beautiful." She whispers excitedly, touching the children with her fingers, who fall asleep innocently. "What happened, Agatha? Where is Erik?"

"The fight just got bigger, hon." She explains. "Much bigger than we ever expected. Your people are suffering too, but they're saying it's natural disasters."

Magda is shocked, but she speaks again. "Agatha, I am not a witch. I can't protect them."

"That's exactly why you can." Agatha retorts, taking the other woman's hands again. "Go to Sokovia. There are no witch communities there. Hide yourself, hide them. You have no idea how important it is to keep them safe."

"Tell me, then."

Agatha swallows dryly, and looks away from the babies. "It's only a legend, but it could change the fate of this war. The girl, Magda, is a powerful witch. A special kind, like her mother was."

"My god, she's just a child, Agatha."

"That's exactly why she needs to be protected." The witch retorts. " She' s fragile, like a crystal to be stolen. She must not be found, promise me you will protect her."

"I promise." She says nodding, but Agatha sighs, and her eyes turn purple, her grip increases.

"No matter what happens, Magda." She says. "You will protect them, do you understand?"

"Yes."

The memory shakes again, and this time, your father is in front of you, and you hold your breath, shocked to see him so close so suddenly.

“You’re a snake!” He accused angrly, but without any movement, his eyes were serious with his arms crossed.

You turn to realize he was talking to Agatha, in a room that had no windows.

“I was keeping them safe, Howard.” The woman said. “I don’t expect you to understand the feeling of desperation, because you have an armored mansion at your will.”

“You used Erik’s grief to manipulate him into believing in you!” He shouted. “I’m not asking you again, where are his children?”

Agatha laughs softly, looking at your father indignantly.

"Are you listening to yourself, Howey?" she teases. "Erik switched sides, accept that."

"Nat died on our side." He retorts. "She was my friend, my ally. And she trusted us to protect the twins, you had no right to hide them!"

"They are safe!" Agatha retorts, and looks at the man with a warning expression. "And I suggest you stop making such a scandal about it, Howard! You don't want Mephisto to find out about the girl's true nature. We're close enough to defeat already."

"This isn't about that stupid legend-"

"Isn't it?" Agatha interrupts with irony. "Then why only now? It's been weeks since I took them. I know exactly what you want with the twins, Howard. You want to see if it's true, if they really can change the war." She says approaching. "I will clear that up for you then, since you clearly have no knowledge at all on the subject. A scarlet witch is worthless until she reaches maturity. If you try to take the magic from the baby, you'll just get a victim. And I won't allow that to happen."

"I wasn't going to steal the child's magic, Agatha. Who do you think I am?"

"I don't give a damn who you say you are now, Stark." She retorts."Not to you, nor to Erik, who can't make up his mind whose side he's on."

Agatha moves to leave, clearly ending the conversation. But before she leaves, your father calls out to her.

"Why are you so committed to protecting them, Agatha?" He asks.

"Natalya was my family before she was an Auror, Howard."

As Agatha leaves, the memory fades, but you and Wanda are wide-eyed, confused by the latest revision.

And the ground is shaking at your feet, and you are being pulled back into consciousness.

//-/-//-//-//

You awaken last, stretching confusedly away from the tree you had leaned against as you sat on the ground to begin viewing the memories watched with the other women.

Wanda is already getting up, to find Agatha standing peacefully looking at the mountainous landscape ahead.

"So, what are you?" she asks the older witch.

Agatha sighs softly, without looking at Wanda.

"Natalya Maximoff was born in Romania, during the witch revolution in the country." She begins nostalgically, a short smile at the corner of her lips. "I found her shaking like a leaf, less than twelve weeks old inside a box of potatoes."

You are shocked, as is Wanda, but you just listen.

"I think her mother tried to hide her. But she got caught in the middle of it. Romania was in chaos at the time, it was a real bloodbath. "She says. "I was there to fight. The English ministry provided special witches to take on a wizard, known as Kang the Conqueror."

Agatha gives a humorless laugh, sounding upset.

"If you think Faustus is bad, it's because you've never met him." She counters. "He was a master nocramanter. He created an army of the living dead, the inferi. It was the worst fight I've ever been in. But we won, and he was killed. For real this time."

Agatha looked away from the landscape to look at Wanda.

"I bonded with the child, Miss Maximoff." She says. "I could have left her in that box, and gone on my way. But I took her in my arms, and only let her go when she was mature enough for that."

"And then?" Wanda asked with emotion in her voice, looking at Agatha with tears in her eyes.

"I found out that she was a scarlet sorceress, but unlike you, she never completed her forging." The witch says sadly. "She died at the age of 20, a year before she was going to do the spell."

Wanda looks down at her feet, crossing her arms as she absorbs the whole story. Agatha thinks this is a good opportunity to keep talking.

"The war was already over when I found Natalya." She says. "The village where I believe she was born had been destroyed in a shambles. And they put her in the box, while the British aurors were doing the stakeouts. I took her with me, I didn't tell anyone." She recounts. "When she turned eleven, I found out what she was. I taught her everything I could, but I didn't let her go to Hogwarts. I kept her at home, where she wouldn't put the students or herself in danger."

You bite the inside of your cheek, surprised that Agatha was able to hide a daughter. But honestly, it wasn't that shocking.

"When she turned 16, she started rebelling, you know how teenagers are." She says. "She left because she didn't agree with the way I saw the world. And I said I would be waiting for her to come back when she realized that only I could help her."

"But she didn't come back." Wanda completed and Agatha sighed, nodding.

"No, of course not," she says. "She moved to a muggle province, and built a house. And ran away from her fate until her power got too overwhelming."

"Did you look for her?" You ask, and Agatha nods in agreement, turning her gaze to the landscape.

"With the war, I wanted allies." She says. "And I really thought I could get to the house of the daughter I hadn't spoken to in years to ask her to fight for me."

"But she accepted, didn't she?" Wanda says and Agatha sighs.

"On her terms, yes." Answered the woman. "Your mother was a smart girl, Wanda. She made me swear under the best intentions."

And it takes a moment for Wanda to understand what was really being said.

"How?"

Agatha sighs, turning to you again. "I took a perpetual vow to do what was right. What would save lives, what she considered right." She explains. "But contract magic is so encompassing. Especially when you say ambiguous phrases like do the right thing, or stuff like that. That's why I was able to get around the spell so many times. That's why it shaped itself with her death."

"That's why you can't hurt Wanda." You conclude in a sigh.

Agatha nods. "The power of the Scarlet Sorceress has always been tempting. But I would never steal it from Natalya, she was my daughter." She says. "But you were just a student. And I wouldn't mind taking that responsibility out of your hands."

"Not even if I was her daughter?" Wanda asks in a mixture of disgust and indignation, but Agatha only gives a humorless laugh.

"Don't judge me so much." She retorts. "If I didn't care, you wouldn't even be alive. Least of all your girlfriend."

But Wanda steps away, putting herself in front of you.

"You didn't do this because you care." She accuses. "You did it because of the vow. Because you will die if you don't keep your words to her."

"Maybe." She says,shrugging. "But what matters is my actions, not motivations. Actions are all that matter in the end."

"I'm sick of this, Agatha." Wanda retorts indignantly. "You think you can say some philosophical shit and get rid of the things you've done? You manipulated my entire family, and you played with my destiny. I'd rather be alone than around you."

Wanda walks off at a brisk pace, and you follow her, not knowing exactly what to do.

Agatha clenches her jaw, refusing to turn around and apologize.

Wanda begins to pack up very quickly, and you stare wide-eyed as she puts Godric's sword into her purse.

And soon you are outside.

"I told you I wouldn't forgive you if you crossed another line with me." She says. "But I realized that there's nothing more you can do besides all the bad things you've already done."

"If you expect me to apologize for keeping you alive so far, you are deluding yourself." Agatha retorts stubbornly, her arms crossed.

Wanda gives a humorless laugh, her hand interlacing hers. "I don't expect anything from you, Agatha. Even if you think it's the right thing to do, stay away from me. And especially from her."

"As you wish, Miss Maximoff."

You notice the tears in the older witch's eyes before she looks the other way. Wanda turns her face to you next.

“Think of a safe place.” She asks in a whisper, and you nod. It takes a second before everything spins around.

//-//-//-//-//

Tag list> @imapotatao / @aimezvousbrahms/ @ensorcellme/ @helloalycia || @mionemymind / @abimess / @stephanieromanoff / @yourtaletotell / @tomy5girls / @justagaypanicking / @thegayw1tch / @idek-5 // @myperfectlovepoem // @helloalycia // @ENSORCELLME // @AIMEZVOUSBRAHMS // @drpepperobsessed // @sighsam // @olsensnpm // @sxfwap // @table57 // @madamevirgo // @causeitswhatjesuswouldfreakingdo // @emptysince18x // @xastrydx || @yuhloversxx || @ymzki-haruki || @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday || @lostandsearching || @lezzzbehonesthere || @musicinourlips || @chaekhan || @diaryoflife || @nervoustrack || @aquamarinescarlet || @cristin-rjd || @idamaemann || @fortunatelynerdylight || @iliketozoneout || @blackwow34 // @tiny–freak || @spongebobtentacles || @cyberbonesworld ||

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x yn #wanda x reader #marvel imagines #the scarlet witch x reader #The Scarlet Witch Prophecy

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goldenroutledge · 3 years

Note

“ Look at how he’s/she’s treating you — are you really okay with that? ” with Rafe 🥺

butterflies

pairing: bestfriend!rafe cameron x reader

wc: 0.9k

warning(s): mentions of cheating, swearing, but some good ole rafe fluff

rafe masterlist

“You deserve better.” You zoned out listening to your best friend over the phone, repeating himself for the millionth time. Rafe sounded like a broken record. Trying to remind you of your worth but nothing seemed to get through to you. He would never stop trying. “Hello?” He questioned after a long pause of silence on your end.

“Yeah. I’m here.” You spoke, barely loud enough.

Your boyfriend had been with someone else for a while now. Not only did you suspect it but the entire island of Kildare did as well, whispering the rumors around town that spread like wildfire. You just didn’t know how to confront him. Especially when he acted as if nothing was wrong, as if the rumors didn’t even exist. He chose to ignore it in hopes it would go away, smiling in your face and tiptoeing around the truth.

“Can I come over?” Rafe suggested, wary of the response he presumed he’d get.

“No. I don’t want company right now.”

“Y/n, please? I just wanna see my best friend.” He pleaded through the phone, a door audibly shutting on the other end to punctuate his statement.

“Rafe, what are you doing? Are you in your truck? I told you not to come over.” You grumbled, hearing his truck start up in the background. “I look like a mess right now.”

“You look perfect. As always.” He reassured, earning a small smile out of you that he couldn’t see. “I’ll be there in 15, okay?”

You sighed, knowing there was no way to talk him out of it now. “Okay. Drive safe.”

Sure enough, 15 minutes later, Rafe was entering your home with his loud footsteps and 2 cups in his hands. “What’s that?” You asked as he traveled up the staircase of your home, flashing you a bright grin.

“Snow cones. Watermelon still your favorite flavor?”

“Wow, I’m surprised you remembered.” You challenged.

“Of course I remembered. You cried when we were 9 at the carnival when they ran out.” He teased.

Your cheeks heated up at the memory, but nevertheless it was still a bit humorous. You chuckled. “Yeah. I was always the first one in the lines from then on. Couldn’t risk it.”

Rafe followed you to your bedroom window, opening it and helping you out to sit in your spot on the roof. “You always wanted to race and see who’s tongue could get stained the fastest.”

“And it was always me.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Maybe. But don’t forget you always had the first brain freeze. I told you to slow down.”

“You’re no better than me. You asked the lady if the flavor Tigers Blood came from real tigers.”

He laughed, nudging your shoulder with his. “Chill out, okay? I was inquisitive.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Thanks, Rafe.”

“For what?” He asked, mouth full of shaved ice as he glanced at you.

“For the snow cone. And making me forget that my life is in shambles. You always help me take my mind off things.”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for.” He reminded. “But while we’re on the topic..”

You let out a heavy sigh, already knowing the conversation ahead of you. “Yes?”

“Why won’t you just break it off with him?”

“I don’t know how to bring it up.” You responded. “In fact, I don’t even know if the rumors are true. It’s not like I’ve seen it for myself.”

“Look at how he’s treating you — are you really okay with that?” His eyes now bore into yours, preparing to detect a lie. “Answer me honestly, Y/n/n.”

“I don’t know, Rafe. I really don’t.” You answered reluctantly. “It’s hard to tell when you set the standards so goddamn high.” You mumbled under your breath. But you both were sitting so close together, there was no way he couldn’t hear you.

“What?”

You sat up straighter, stiffening at the new change of topic. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

“No, Y/n. I heard you. But what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Forget I said anything, okay? I-I didn’t even mean it like that.”

“You didn’t?” Rafe’s tone was hinted with heartache, the best he could do to mask it. You tried to respond, but no words came out. You weren’t sure what to say. “Did you or not, Y/n? I need to know what the fuck you meant.”

“Fine. I meant it, Rafe.” You surrendered. “I mean, you treat me so well and I have so much fun being around you. Like I’m living in the clouds or some shit.” He was frozen, but never taking his eyes off you as you gazed out onto the property surrounding your house. “But you’re not my boyfriend. So it doesn’t even matter.”

“It matters to me, you know.” He admitted hopefully.

“Well. I shouldn’t have said it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have a boyfriend? That’s not fair to him.”

“Forget that loser, Y/n. He’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve you. If you wanted to be with him right now you would be, right?” He stammered, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to make sense of it all himself.

“Yeah. probably.” You nodded. “But instead, I’m here. Having snow cones on the roof with you. Where I should be.”

His lips curled into a smile at the reassurance, looking down sheepishly to avoid your stare. “I’m glad you agree.” You leaned over to kiss his blushing cheek, which was only reddening under your touch. “Are you gonna break up with him?”

“Yeah. I am.” You affirmed, stomach fluttering as you came to a decision. Rafe was more responsible for the butterflies in your stomach than you were, though. “Give me some time. I wanna tell him in person.”

“Okay.” He beamed, brushing your soft cheek with his thumb. Unbeknownst to you, those same butterflies were going rampant and wild inside of his body too. “I’ll wait.”

a/n: i’m happy with the way this turned out :)

taglist: @ilovejjmaybank @missevi @nxsmss @cameronsrafe @msgorillagripcoochie @bibliophilewednesday @tovvaa @freddymaybank @annab-nana @babeyglo @sunsetholland @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences @laneybobeczko-g @jjpouggues @j-j-may-bank

rafe taglist: @vintageobx @givetaylorherscarfbackjake @drewstarkeysbitchh

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe obx #obx rafe #outer banks rafe #drew starkey #my valentine’s sleepover

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words-etched-in-her-skin · 3 years

Note

Alright… challenge time :p (Not seriously You can slay anything)

Rigger Sadist Cassandra having fun with her rope bunny pet in a dungeon/ Play room setting.

Can be smutty, humorous or fluffy.

Combined with: Smut with Cassandra and a masochist maiden? A maiden who risks their life to get punished by a certain ravenous daughter?*Slight daddy kink added for a follower on Ao3*

***

Sorry it took me so long to get some you guys some content for our beloved Cass 🥺 But I hope you all like it 😏 I know I had a lot of fun writing it 🤤

***

Chilled brick against slightly bruised skin. A dull ache to your knees as you shifted from one leg to the other. You could only wonder how long she had had you there. The dense darkness of the castle dungeons - the infinite night - allowing no such time to make its way known. The faint sound of water dripping onto aged mortar as a fierce rain blew around the castle walls. Even in the blackened air between you, Cassandra’s eyes still beamed through like a beacon - a warning - a promise of everything that was coming to you.

“I swear, morsel.. You get prettier with each passing minute that you spend on those knees of yours.”

The immaculate smirk that curled across her lips would have immediately made you drip, if you weren’t already doing so. The black rope that she had meticulously wrapped around your soft flesh firm against you as she began to circle like the prey that you were. You had known all too well that out of all of the sisters, Cassandra was the most sadistic - a trait that had scared most of the servants in the castle - but for some reason, it only seemed to excite you more.

“A-ah.. thank you, miss.”

A desperate needy tone coated your words in the most delicious of ways. How badly you longed for her to touch you - for her to claim you. You had seen the marks she had left on others, spreading a deep heat every time your eyes had laid upon them - and when the stunning brunette told you to meet her in the dungeons after your daily work was finished, it was all you could do not to sprint your way down those steps as fast as you could.

“I can smell how badly you want this, morsel.”

She chuckled before you could even respond, kneeling down to look you in the eyes. A most sadistic smile painted across her perfect lips, and you couldn’t help but whimper as she grabbed you firmly by your chin and forced you to your feet. Pulling roughly on your restraints before slowly leading you back against the castle wall. The sound of metal against brick cutting through the air as she tied the ropes that bound you to the chain that adorned it - sufficiently pinning your hands to the cooled brick above you. An exquisite pain radiating throughout your body as she pulled on the restraints even harder, forcing you to cry out for her.

“Heh.. moaning for me already?”

“Mmph… yes, miss.. ah-!”

She chuckled again before allowing her tongue to trace over the small bite she had just gifted you, using the length of her frame to lean you further back against the wall.

“I’ve seen the way you look at my handy work, morsel. How that desperate blush spreads across those cheeks as your eyes fall from one mark to another.”

“Y-yes, miss.”

“One would think that you liked the prospect of me claiming you. That you long to feel my teeth deep within that soft flesh of yours.”

You whimpered again as she wrapped her long fingers into your hair, tugging on it firmly - exposing the length of your neck to her. Every cell in your body set a blaze as the indulgent pain spread swiftly over you. You swallowed hard before answering.

“O-one would think that, miss… because I do…”

“Oh, I know.”

A single glance of a warning before her teeth were on you again. A deeper bite to crook of your neck, just short of breaking the skin. A sharp inhale dancing across your slightly parted lips as she bit you again, this time just a little lower. Oh, how you pulled against your restraints - longing to wrap your fingers in her hair - to pull her closer to you. Her cooled breath against your skin as she chuckled again - the sweet heat as her teeth sank in a little deeper, earning brilliant drops of crimson to seep across your flushed skin. The slightest of growls reverberating deep within her throat as she licked over them - tasting you.

“If you’d like a safeword, now would be the time to choose it. There’s no guarantee I’ll be able to control myself otherwise.”

“Ah-! No… no… just fucking devour me. Please.”

At the utter and desperate tone to your pleads - the absolute primality that radiated throughout the small space of the dungeons as a deep and unyielding growl forced itself from Cassandra’s body. The sheer force of her slamming you back against the wall as her teeth sank deeply into your flushed skin - harder - rougher. Sharp nails finding the soft flesh of your thighs as you felt the warmth of her tongue skate over the deep teeth marks that began to deliciously decorate your body. Moaning slightly as you felt her drink from you.

“M-more… please.”

She growled again, eyes sharp as she pulled herself from your eager body.

“It would do you well to be careful what you wish for when I am in such a state, morsel.”

You said it again without a second thought. “More”

You could feel the cool air of the dungeons begin to spin around you as her teeth found you again. Each mark more delicious than the last as she utterly claimed you. A deep heat spilling over you as she pulled on your restraints yet again, tightening the rope that had bound your body even more. The multitude of sensations almost overwhelming - all encompassing - the only break from the relentless heat that threatened to overtake you being the cool air dancing off of the trickles of crimson that began to drip their way down your overly flushed skin.

“Mmh.. I can smell how wet you are.”

She purred the words into your skin before biting it harder than she had all night, forcing an immediate yelp from your lips.

“Mmph.. Cassandra… please.”

As soon as her name left your lips, you knew you had fucked up. The strength of her hand coming swiftly around your neck, firmly squeezing it.

“Careful, there. Wouldn’t want to ruin the good time we’re having with such slip ups.”

The embers in her eyes almost black, on the verge of absolute darkness as she looked you over. The thick metallic scent of your blood on her lips as she squeezed a little harder - causing sparks behind your eyes before swiftly letting go.

“Ah.. y-yes, miss.. sorry…”

"There are very few things I tolerate being called down here, maiden.”

The sharp undertones to her voice - the change in petname - swiftly reminding you of exactly who you were dealing with - filling your body with a deep, unyielding heat. You had heard a few of those things screamed out into the castle walls on some of your loneliest nights - with nothing more than the warmth of your hands to keep you company, you couldn’t help but imagine what Cassandra could possibly be doing to induce such delicious sounds. Sometimes they were screamed in pleasure.. others in pain. But there was always one that made you wetter than the rest when you heard it.

“Daddy.” You half whimpered - breathy, and desperate - eyes half lidded as they locked onto hers.

The sound that forced itself past Cassandra’s lips was guttural - primal - a growl so thunderous that it rivaled the storm that waged around the castle walls. So deep that you felt it in your knees - in your core - in your inner and utter being. The length of her body firmly against you as she forced you back against the wall once again. Eyes of absolute darkness as she breathed over you - taking in your scent. A single sweep of her tongue before her teeth were relentlessly back on you. Hot, and uncompromising - causing a fevershing heat to spill rapidly across your body. The sharpness of her teeth swiftly finding any unmarked flesh that you had left to offer.

You gasped as her fingers traced over your thighs, nails digging in. The warmth of her mouth exploring over the rest of you as she fully, and wholly claimed you as her own. Sending the castle walls around you spinning as her fingers ghosted over your core. Forcing a desperately needy whimper to escape from your lips. You knew you were dripping for her - and you knew she could smell your sweet musk every time she made you squirm.

“Such a tasty morsel you turned out to be.” She murmured the unexpected praise against your flushed skin, earning a swift blush to spill across your body. “How badly you must want me to touch you.”

“You... you are touching me, miss.”

You closed your eyes in preparation for the consequences that would normally follow such a quip, only to feel Cassandra’s breath cool against you as she chuckled - forcing you to open your eyes. Golden spheres rising slowly through darkness when her eyes found yours. An utterly devious smirk to her lips as her fingers came firm around your chin.

“Heh… very tasty, indeed.”

You swallowed hard, not daring to say another word as her eyes watched you carefully. A]look to her face that made you wonder if she were trying to decide whether she wanted to eat you or… kiss you. You were, obviously, hoping for the latter.

Her sweet scent rolling over you as she leaned in a little closer - tightening the grip on your chin while her tongue swept deliciously over the width of her mouth, cleaning the last bit of crimson from her soft skin.

“Well, morsel… looks like you’ve chosen the ‘no release’ option with your meal.”

She chuckled at her own joke - a glimpse of a smirk across her lips before the sharp exquisite sting of her teeth found you again. A deep moan as she slid the length of two fingers deep into you - fast and merciless inside you. And oh, how she kept true to her word. Edging you relentlessly long into the midnight hours - until your exquisitely desperate juices had sufficiently soaked the chilled mortar below you.

#depravity answered #resident evil village #resident evil #re8 village #cassandra dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #resident evil fanfic #re8 fanfiction #cassandra dimitrescu fanfiction #fuck #i got way too thrisf writing this

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band--psycho · 4 years

Text

Newt x Reader-I Trust You

Requested by @ausblack : Where she’s like the new (only) girl in the glade and everyone thinks she’s mute because she never said a word since she came up. The only person who she warms up to is Newt and she eventually speaks to him after the first weeks. They start to spend a lot of time together and they eventually fall in love when someone hurts her accidentally and he gets extremely worried/protective.

Third Person POV

It had been almost a week since the new greenie had arrived. This greenie was different from the rest though, for two reasons; the first, was that she was a girl and the second was that she hadn’t uttered a single word to any of the other gladers since she’d arrived. Everyone had tried talking to her but still the girl remained silent. There was a mixture of frustration and confusion aimed towards her amongst most of the gladers, none of them could understand why she wouldn’t talk to them. Some of them even joked that she should be thrown into the maze to see if she said anything; some people meant it more seriously than others. But none of them would dare act on anything they thought, in fear of being thrown in the maze themselves. Not all of the gladers held resentment towards her though, Newt in particular had quite a shine to her and it didn’t take a genius to work out that she’d grown quite fond of him as well, the two of them were often seen together sitting in the treehouse. Not even he knew her name though.

~~~~~~~

It had been two weeks since the new greenie arrived and still no one knew her name; most people just called her greenie, simply because it was the only thing that they could really call her seeing as her name was still unknown.

A select few though, had taken it upon themselves to start calling her Shank, however much to their frustration the name didn’t seem to bother her. No one knew what to do with her, but one thing was for certain; Gally wanted her gone. He didn’t trust her. Nor did he understand her.

“She doesn’t talk!” Gally roared, exasperated with the direction the conversation had taken. His hands flying up into the air in an obvious display of disbelief and frustration. Jaw clenched and nostrils flared he glares at Newt, who only shook his head in response.

“So what? She hasn’t hurt anybody, she does her job,” yes, she seemed different to everyone else, but that didn’t mean she was a threat. Not like Gally was trying to portray her.

“Well you would say that, wouldn’t you,” Gally scoffed, shaking his head with a humourless laugh.

“And what’s that meant to mean?” His tone was biting, and his temper was rising. He knew he shouldn’t give Gally the satisfaction, that he wasn’t worth it but he couldn’t help himself. The need to protect her - to defend her - was staggering, and he found himself incapable of holding his tongue.

“Oh come on Newt, everyone knows you’ve got the hots for her,” the goading bluntness to Gally’s tone was clear as day, and only serve to poke the metaphorical bear. Seeing this Gally continues with a cruel smirk twisting his lips.

“But she clearly doesn’t feel the same, seeing as she hasn’t said a damn word to you either-“,

“Watch it, Gally,” Newt interrupted with a warning look in his eyes, feeling the anger in his veins veil to a new degree.

“Or what? What’re you gonna do Newt?” Gally taunted, squaring up to Newt, readying himself for a fight, making it clear he wasn’t going to back down.

“Maybe if you were thinking with your brain, you’d see how dangerous she is, and that we can’t trust her,” the sneer on his face made the notion of hitting Gally all the more alluring for Newt. The only thing holding him back at this point being his respect for Alby, however Gally was making the idea more and more tempting by the minute.

“Gally, I swear-” before Newt could finish the impulsive threat, a new voice momentarily sliced through the tension, effectively putting a pause on the situation.

“That’s enough!” Alby’s voice boomed, causing everyone in the hut to go silent as he stepped between Alby and Newt, in an attempt to diffuse the situation. When he was happy neither was going to make a move against him, Alba turned to Gally.

“She’s not hurting anyone, Gally, she’s just…different. Perhaps if you were nicer to her, she might feel like she can trust us enough to talk to us,” Alby postulated with an air of finality in his tone.

“Trust? She’s been here long enough that she should be able to trust us,” Gally argued, backing down from any physical altercation, but wanting his opinion on the matter heard and taken seriously.

“Well maybe if you and the others weren’t constantly taunting her and trying to scare her into talking she’d make the effort,” Alba reasoned in response before looking between both newt and Gally and declaring, “We’re done, this meeting is done. She’s staying, that’s the end of it.” And just like that the meeting was over.

~~~~~~~

Y/n was up in the treehouse as normal, watching the sun slowly rise above the trees, it’s golden rays momentarily reaching all across the glade. It was something she’d found herself doing quite frequently since entering the glade, watching the sunrise and the sunset. Not only was it beautiful to see the sun rise and fall behind the trees as day turned to night and night turned to day, but she found that there was something extremely calming about watching it. Newt often joined her when he could, sometimes the two would sit in silence, watching as the scenes changed before their eyes or Newt would talk to her, telling her about his day, what he’d been doing and sometimes he’d tell her stories about his past, what the glade used to look like and how it used to be when he first arrived. She knew he trusted her, trusted her enough to tell her about the time he tried to end it all; tried to end the pain and frustration this place caused.

As the colours in the sky began to slowly change, her mind wandered to what Gally said last night. How she was dangerous and couldn’t be trusted…

“Hey,” Newt greeted as he sat down next to her, his voice drawing her away from her thoughts. She sent him a small smile, studying his features more, His sandy brown hair and his light blue eyes that she constantly found herself getting lost in. He was different to anyone else here. He was gentle and caring, he made her feel like she belonged here. Newt was talking about his daily plans and once again she found herself getting lost in him. In his voice, his eyes. Him.

And before she could even stop the words she muttered “Y/n.” At the sound of her voice Newt instantly stopped speaking only for her to say ‘My name’s Y/n’ her voice was pure and sweet as if it was from heaven itself; so gentle and angelic, Newt thought he’d wandered into a dream but when she felt his hand on his, he knew this was real. A beaming smile came upon his face, one that soon she was mirroring. The two sat together in silence for a while, both of them processing what had just happened.

“What made you decide to talk to me?” Newt asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“I..um..I heard what Gally said in the meeting,” Y/n answered honestly.

“You know those meetings are private for a reason, right,” he said with a chuckle in his voice as he humorously raised his eyebrows.

“I know, I know...but I wanted to know what he was saying and then I heard you defending me,” realisation dawned over Newt as he thought back to the meeting.

“And then I heard Gally say you have the hots for me,” There it was. Embarrassment washed over him in waves as he tried to work out what to say; yes it was true, he liked her but the last thing he wanted to do was scare her away or make her uncomfortable.

“Y/n-” He stuttered out, searching for something to say.

“Is it true…?” she interrupted, momentarily locking eyes with him until he looked away.

“Newt,” the way she said his name made him feel like he was floating in the air and the soft touch of her hand on his face caused his heart to swell and his cheeks to grow hot as a pink tint came upon. Her hand lightly guided his face back, so they were looking at each other again.

“Yeah, I like you, Y/n,” he admitted, fully prepared for the rejection that was about to hit him, but it never came. Instead the words that left Y/ns lips were, “I like you too, Newt, that’s why I decided to talk to you, I wanted you to see that I trust you..” Newt felt his heart swell with joy at her words, as moved closer towards her and kissed her lightly on the forehead. He put his arm around her, pulling her close as they continued to watch the rest of the sunrise, with smiles on their faces.

~~~~~~~

Thomas’ shouts for help echoed through the glade and seconds later, a terrified Thomas emerged from the forest with Ben chasing him. Y/n attempted to stop Ben in his tracks but before she could even say anything, Ben harshly pushed her out of the way; causing Y/n to hit the ground with a thud. The other gladers,soon gathered and managed to get Thomas away from Ben.Instantly Newt ran to her side, attempting to lift her up slightly, but as soon as he tried to move he noticed the panicked look in her eyes.For a few seconds a pain shot through her head as she tried to focus on the figure infront of her, tried to focus on what he was saying; her blurry eyes could see his mouth moving and she could hear sounds passing from his lips, but she couldn’t work out what the words were, no matter how hard she tried to focus on them. Anxiety washed over Newt as he basically cradled her disorientated form, repeating “Love? Love, can you hear me?” in the calmest voice he could muster, not wanting to scare her. But Alby could see the fear that was burning his closest friend's eyes. Alby silently shooed the crowd around them away, leaving only him, Newt and Clint. After a few moments, Y/ns vision started to focus again, seeing a pair of familiar light blue eyes looking down at her. Slowly, her surroundings began to come back to her and she could feel Newts soft hand on her face, tracing small circles onto her cheek.

“Love? Love can you hear me?” Newt repeated and this time she heard his voice clearly.

“That hurt,” she muttered, quietly groaning as she tried to sit up, slowly Newt, Y/n and Clint all moved to the Medjack hut and after being checked over she was given the all clear, being told that all she needed was rest. Newt never thought he’d find love in the very place he hated. The place he’d tried so desperately to leave before, but as he looked down at Y/ns sleeping form, he felt the butterflies swarming in his stomach and that night, he held her closer than he’d ever done before, whispering into her hair a promise. A promise that he’d always be there to protect her, that he’d never let something like what happened today, happen again.

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ellsbclls · 3 years

Text

The Fire Escape

warnings ➛ A couple of swear words here and there, mentions of death, endgame spoilers, and a dash of far from home erasure.

word count ➛ 4.7K

synopsis ➛ After the events of End Game, Peter Parker takes a break from his crime fighting persona, but when Spider-Man is called to a mission in Sokovia, he realizes that you might not be ready to handle the life of an Avenger’s girlfriend. There’s a little bit of angst, but not enough to keep you up at night.

“Y/N… Earth to Y/N.”

Peter ropes you back to reality with a light squeeze of your hand, a simple gesture that you return two-fold. On normal dates, the competition would ignite almost immediately, squeezing each other’s hands back and forth, under varying degrees of pressure, until one of you cried uncle — but this is far from a normal date.

It had started innocently enough. Peter had begged Dr.Banner to let him leave his “internship” an hour early just so he could surprise you at work. You assumed — after some superb groveling on Peter’s part — that Bruce agreed, because the end of your shift was met with a parchment wrapped dozen of blushing roses, accompanied by your equally blushing boyfriend. The two of you were able to snag one of the emptier carts on the N train, and were accompanied by a small Greek woman who sent a warm smile when you nestled your head into Peter’s shoulder. The smile disappeared as soon as he started using the poles as his personal jungle gym, but your laugh made up for its loss as he offered his hand out, begging you to join him with a Gene Kelly-esque flair. He ushered you into one of your favorite ramen places during your stroll down Ditmars, pulling out your chair when you were given a table, pretending not to notice how you snuck a noodle or two from his bowl when he wasn’t looking. Your heart felt so warm, you’re surprised it didn’t melt.

So why does everything seem so off now? You and Peter are walking side by side down 37th avenue, he’s rambling excitedly about some new enhancement he made to his web slingers, the evening breeze is kissing your cheeks as it waltzes around the autumn foliage, and somehow, you feel like you’re in the eye of a hurricane.

“Where’d you go?” Peter tries to reel you back in once more and succeeds, craning his head to meet your gaze.

“Oh, just a quick jog.” you tease. There’s a thin edge underlying your sarcasm, and you wonder if he can hear it, too. You’re only a block away from your apartment, and the tiny voice in the back of your mind rationalizes that nothing could ruin your impromptu date night if you were tucked away in your home — because you always feel safe when you’re home. Yet, with no solid evidence to confirm or deny the thought, you’re in a race with the block to dig through your purse.

“Oh, well don’t forget to warm up.” he teases back. His caramel hues, once alight with a mirthful glint, start to descend into an uneasy resolve that only confirms your suspicions, but you’re too occupied by the whereabouts of your keys to notice. “Speaking of warm up, actually, there’s something I have to ask you.”

“Shoot.” you reply offhandedly.

“Well, I- I don’t know how to say this.” The tremor in his voice is subtle, but just present enough to pull you from your search. “There’s- uh- there’s something going on in Sokovia, or at least what’s left of it. There’s a lot of feedback coming off the maps, like a… a hotplate of cosmic activity, so Captain wants the entire team there.”

There it is — that dark cloud that hung over your head this evening finally drenches you in a sharp, cold blanket of realization. Your heart stops, aches, and then crumbles to the pit of your stomach, waiting to be washed away by the waves of terror that crash upon your airways, and despite the wash cycle of emotions you’ve just endured, you feel far from clean. In fact, everything feels heavy — from the weight of your heart to your ragged breath — paralyzed by the idea that each thump, each exhale, brings you closer to the moment where Peter has to leave.

You started dating a year and a half ago, and two years have passed since half of the population was restored to its rightful plane of existence. Iron Man’s death left a massive hole in Peter’s morale, as well as a nagging doubt that he would never be able to take on the mantle he was left with. So, for the first time since he was bitten by that radioactive spider, he cowered in the face of adversity. Not only had he lost a mentor, he had lost his friend — and when Tony Stark sacrificed his life, he was under the impression that the heroes he saved would continue to protect the world, but sometimes Peter wonders if that still reigns true. If Mr.Stark knew just how easily the team had crumbled, how easily he had crumbled, would he still leave? Three and a half years later and Peter still can’t find the answer.

Meanwhile, when it seemed like the world needed him most, Spiderman slipped into obscurity. Now he only makes an appearance when the newscast is a little too bleak to ignore, and even then, he usually sticks to the rogue bank heist or back alley mugging.

You try not to pry, knowing that each time you ask about his brief hiatus is like poking an open wound, and, albeit selfishly, you relish in the fact that your boyfriend isn’t throwing himself in harm's way. However, now seems like a better time than ever for an interrogation, seeing as this is not only the first Avengers mission he’s attended in your relationship, but the first mission to ever span past the Hudson.

No obstacle prior has conjured a looming sense of dread and anxiety as palpable as the one you’re toting now. You can already feel it bubbling in your chest, like a cauldron of endless toils, expelling a hazy fog that makes your head spin.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t give out on me now.” You don’t realize that your knees buckled beneath you until Peter comes to your rescue, and you silently wish that all of his heroic excursions could be this simple. The warmth of his hand bleeds past your winter coat and business casual blouse as it settles against the small of your back, and your body betrays you as it melts into his touch. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m actually not CPR certified.”

“I- I’m sorry.” Your mouth is bone dry, and you can barely muster a laugh convincing enough to counter his attempt at humor, so you don’t. You opt on settling your gaze upon the entrance of your building, just over Peter’s shoulder, and trying to ground yourself enough to stand without his help.

Peter’s hand still lingers on your form when you shuffle away from him, moving from the small of your back to the curve of your elbow. He can tell that you’re shaken, he expected that much from the get go, so he doesn’t leave your side, encroaching on the space you so obviously seek.

“I don’t know- I don’t…” You muster just enough courage to counter his gaze, and a tiny frown creases between your brows, confusion riddling every other feature. “What exactly are you asking me?”

He pauses, searching for the answer himself. “Well, I guess- I just wanna know how you’re feeling.”

You chalk it up to your sudden sense of irritability, but his question just pisses you off. How dare he throw out a semblance of hope, a faulty impression, that you’d have any choice in this matter. You climb the three steps up to the front door, dolled up in dismay, and still try to find purchase in the illusion that you have any control in the matter. Maybe that’s what pushes you over the deep end, your once honeyed voice now curdled by venom — the hopelessness of it all. “Oh, I’m fine! I’m amazing, Peter. After the way you buttered me up all evening, how could I possibly be upset?”

“Y/N, that’s not fair-” Peter’s visibly taken aback, his features mimicking your own. You can see the cogs turning in his head, formulating some way to diffuse this situation before it really begins, but now that the gates are opened, it’s too late for you to hold anything back.

“Why not? Cause it’s the truth?” You cut him off, freshly manicured nails digging into your palms in an attempt to keep your tone even. “Let me tell you what’s not fair — You don’t even know how long you’re gonna be gone, do you?”

You’re met with a mutual silence, which confirms just how equally unaware you both are.

“Exactly.” At this point, your nerves are getting the best of you. Whether you lay all of your feelings out to him tonight or not, a sickening thought will remain — Peter is going to leave, and there’s a chance he won’t come back. So you persist, your hues boring into his own with each word. “You don’t know what it’s like to sit in our bed and wonder if you’re gonna be in it the next morning. You don’t know how terrifying it is to watch the news and pray to god that you’re not a part of it. You’re never going to be in my shoes when it comes to all of this, and I pray to god that you never have to be because I never want you to feel this way. That’s what’s not fair.” You wish your voice hadn’t grown weaker with each blow, you wish you could utter your last few thoughts with an unwavering certainty, but you know you can’t — not when a sob threatens to bubble up from the back of your throat. “That you can just decide to swing across the globe and put your life in danger while I sit at home and worry about you, and the worst part is that it only makes me love you more.”

“Y/N, do you think this is easy for me?” he’s never raised his voice at you, especially not like this, but it looks like tonight is a series of firsts for the both of you. “I haven’t been on a mission with the Avengers since high school, since —” Since Mr.Stark died. You know.

It’s not like he didn’t try to say it, he did, but the name just felt so foreign on his tongue. After years of inactivity, the threat of unearthing all those memories, all those bright eyed, bushy tailed endeavors, was almost as bad as remembering that he was gone — or even worse, not remembering them at all. But where could he retreat to now? He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, forced to choose between the thought of losing Mr.Stark, or the thought of losing you. His thoughts are raw and earnest as he tries to placate the latter. “I don’t want to leave you. It terrifies me to think of all the things that could happen to you while I’m gone —”

“Obviously it doesn’t scare you enough, because you’re still going!” You punch the last two words, as if you’re suddenly trying to talk to him from across the street.

“I don’t have a choice, Y/N! I don’t-”

Your argument skids to a screeching halt, rivaling the groan of the metal door that guards your apartment complex, and with it appears Ms.Nunez — the single mother that lives a floor below you, whose ability to juggle her graveyard shifts at the hospital with her two rambunctious toddlers is almost as impeccable as her timing.

She appears to be in a rush as she skirts past you, but not enough to stop her from sending Peter an all too knowing look — one that screams “what did you do to that poor girl?”, with only the view of your red, puffy eyes and guarded stance to back up her assumption.

And with an opportunity so golden laying at your feet, who are you to ignore it? You catch the door before it hits the frame and slip into the yellowed entryway, barreling up the stairwell before he can question her weighted stare. You leave Peter no choice but to slip past Ms.Nunez in your pursuit, without so much as a goodbye, but a few choice words still sit on the back of his tongue, waiting to be swallowed.

Normally, the five stories of stairs leaves you winded by the third, but you chalk your superhuman stamina up to adrenaline. Luckily for you, you’re able to reach the last flight of stairs as Peter climbs up the first. Unluckily for you, you seem to forget that your boyfriend actually does have superhuman stamina, and you swear to fucking god that he’s flying up the stairwell by the time you shut the door behind you.

The door slams twice more after that, one loud bang to signal Peter’s entrance and one to punctuate it. His voice pierces through the apartment, firm and unyielding. “This conversation isn’t over, Y/N.”

He has no idea where you’ve run off to, ruling out the kitchen once he drapes his jacket over the center island. All he can hear is your voice, muffled behind one of the walls, calling out to him with little emotion to spare. “Oh, yes it is. I’m over it. It’s over.”

“Well, that’s mature.” He mutters under his breath, not expecting you to hear him, let alone respond.

“Oh, I’m so glad you think so!” You chuckle dryly, ”‘Cause your judgment of maturity is oh so rational and not at all fucking batshit.” And he thought he had enhanced hearing.

“You know what? You’re right.” He scoffs, letting the slam of the bathroom door punctuate his final words. “I’m over this, too.”

🕷 🕷 🕷

“Y/N?” Peter calls out, but to no avail. It’s on nights like these where he wishes you weren’t fighting, knowing fully well that you would command him to the bed with a downward pointing finger and the best glare you could muster. You’ve always loved the way his hair curled into soft, chestnut waves, so you didn’t mind weaving through his damp tresses before he went to sleep. You would make up some excuse about how the process helped give his curls definition, and he would always end up way too tired and relaxed to call you out on it.

You’re nowhere to be found, though. Your comforter is still as haphazard as it was this morning, and the kitchen is void of your late night snack ravaging. The only sign of your presence is found in the open window next to you bed, and way the curtains float against the evening breeze, leaving him to ponder your whereabouts at a breakneck speed.

A million visions of paranoia screen through his mind all at once, but he’s quick to dismiss them, oddly familiar with the prospect of losing someone, and all the fretting that comes with it.

And you know better than to wander the streets of the city so late at night — but with all of the venom being spewed throughout the apartment, Peter wouldn’t be surprised if you needed a small reprieve. Even for just a quick trip to the corner market. He’s well aware of the eagle eye you sport in the moonlit streets, as well as the switchblade that sits in the side pocket of your bag, but he knows better than anyone that you have to expect the unexpected in these streets.

He pulls out his phone, ready to shoot you a quick text when the bars of the fire escape let out a metallic groan. Despite your apartment’s... adequate amenities, you’d never had a problem with the fire escape. The finicky oven? Maybe, but never the fire escape.

Even without his spidey senses tingling, he has no choice but to poke his head through the window pane, and to his surprise, he ends up killing two birds with one stone.

“I didn’t know you were out here.” Peter balances on the window sill, crouching in a near feline stance as he surveys your position — bundled between the metal grates of the fire escape and your downy comforter. Your lips are parted in a tiny “o”, eyelids blanketing your hues, and with the street lights flickering to life across the seam of thirty-eighth avenue, you’re nothing short of angelic — features now outlined in a seraphic, dewy haze.

If he wasn’t feeling guilty beforehand, the sight before him guarantees he is now.

“Yeah, that was kind of the point.” you murmur. You don’t bother to open your eyes, not even when the iron beams start to squeak under Peter’s weight. “Can I help you with something? I’m pretty sure this thing has a weight limit, and this is a weighted blanket.”

You’re met with silence, and you hate to admit it, but you’d take his silent presence over your self-induced isolation any day. Despite the fact that you only moved in together four months prior, your body has grown accustomed to his presence, subconsciously weaving it into your daily routine. There were nights when you would splay out like a starfish in your childhood bedroom, waiting restlessly for the gentle wrap of his knuckles at the window pane, and that same restlessness bleeds into nights in your shared apartment, which then bleeds into now. Sure, you can trick your body into sleeping, but rest seems to be boroughs and islands away when Peter’s not there to wish you a good night.

A terse silence settles between the two of you, and you blink up at Peter, expecting him to break it since you surely wouldn’t.

“Why here?” Peter exceeds your expectations with his query. His gaze is fixed on Manhattan’s skyline — even from the tippy top of the complex, he can still make out the jagged glittering, crust of the city’s bustling core — and it’s then he finds the answer to his very own question.

“I used to sneak onto the fire escape at my parents place, too.” you reminisce, the corners of your lips curling into a bittersweet grin. “The apartment walls were thin, and whenever they would fight, or talk shit about something I did that day, I would just sit on the fire escape until I fell asleep.”

“How?” He breaks yet another lengthy pause, and you fight the urge to chuckle at his candor, settling with a lazy grin. “I mean, no offense, but Astoria isn’t exactly a library.”

“Yeah, but inside, I knew exactly what they were saying, how they were feeling — it was all in the air. At least out here everything just… blends together. It’s kind of peaceful in a way.”

Your voice is so timid and gentle as you recall your childhood, reflecting on moments that seem lifetimes away despite the handful of years in between. Peter’s gaze is transfixed on your profile, skating down the slope of your nose and skirting the curves of your lips until he realizes just how small you are. He tends to hold you on a pedestal, a habit he’s retained since the very beginning of your relationship, so sometimes it still baffles him to know that you can be anything but perfect — that you too can be human, and make human mistakes.

“How come I’ve never seen you out here before?” He feels like a little kid, question after question slipping past his lips before he even has the chance to filter them.

“‘Cause I haven’t had a reason to hide since I moved in with you.”

And just when he thought he couldn’t feel even guiltier, he’s soon overflowing with it. It kills him to know that you felt the need to escape, and you’ll never admit it after tonight, but he was the one who pushed you toward it.

“I’m sorry.” Peter blurts out, not expecting you to say —

“I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows, cutting him off before he can even open his mouth to protest. “I’m just so used to my Peter. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m sharing him with the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“Hey, hey — look at me.” His thumb traces the spot right under your eye, using his pinky to nudge the curve of your jaw upward, toward his gaze — heavy and drenched in a type of resoluteness that leaves your mouth bone dry. “It may not always seem like it, but trust me when I tell you that you’re always going to be my top priority.”

“Peter, you’re being dramatic.” You sigh, finding it hard to believe that your life could take any precedence over the safety of mankind itself.

“No, I’m being honest.” His voice, his gaze, they leave no room for protest. You feel a little awkward being the center of their attention, and so it’s a relief when they shift to the city’s skyline once more. “Look over there, you know what that is?”

“Central Park?”

“Mhm, good girl.” Crimson blooms across the valley of your cheeks at his choice of nickname, no matter how innocently he uttered it, but your attention still remains undivided. “I figured out that I can get home quicker if I cut through it.”

You quirk a brow, and he doesn’t need to ask to know exactly what you’re thinking — So what if he hasn’t figured out which trains he needs to board in order to make a dent in his homebound commute? It’s the thought that counts.

“Sometimes like to just stop for a second and watch some of the people in the park, but not in, like, a creepy way? You know what I mean?” A subtle hint of embarrassment tinges his features, but dissolves once he notices your understanding nod. “Is there a word for that?”

“Yeah, it’s called people watching.” You snickered, trying to imagine your boyfriend and his attempts at roasting the New York natives. “MJ and I do it all the time.”

“No, but with less… shit talking.” He counters.

Ouch.

“Oh…” You’re stumped, unsure of where he’s heading and, quite frankly, a little humbled by his read. “Hmm… Carry on?”

“Well,” Peter lets his hand rest palm forward on his knee, fingers gently curled, and you’re well acquainted with the gesture. Almost instinctively, you hover your hand above his own, digits clumsily dancing with one another as he speaks, and for a fleeting second, everything is back to normal. “It’s just… mind-blowing sometimes. There’s so much life there, all at once. All of these people are just living their lives, making their way home, falling in love, falling out of love, buying overpriced hotdogs from the street vendors — The other day I saw this mom fishing her two toddlers out of that fountain on Terrace road and honestly, if they don’t end up with superpowers, I’ll be shocked.” He can tell he’s drifted wildly off track by the way you nod, slowly and unsure, as to not offend him and his train of thought. “The point is… I used to protect all of that, and it used to make me so happy.”

“You still do,” You murmur, not one to discredit the risks he does take in the name of New York. Just because his enemies aren’t held to the same caliber as, say, Thanos, doesn’t mean they aren’t worthwhile. “All that matters is that you’re doing what you can.”

You hesitantly intertwine your fingers with his, in just a delicate enough hold to let him reject it if he so chooses. Your lips softly quirk upward when he only tightens the grip.

“Thank you.” He offers a comforting smile, one that barely reaches his eyes, and you can tell that he has more to say. So, you squeeze his hand, silently urging him to continue. “Well, I just- after Mr.Stark… passed away… it was really hard to remember why I started doing all of it in the first place. Like- I hate saying this, but why do we keep protecting all of these strangers when all the people we do know just keep getting hurt?” He winces at his own words, so far removed from such bitterness that he can barely believe he once thought such selfish things. “But then- then I get to see all of the people that I’ve been protecting, and suddenly it all makes sense again. All I want to do is make sure people are safe, and happy, and hopefully… Hopefully, when we’re older, and we have kids that jump in the fountains at Central Park, someone like me will be watching… and they’ll feel the exact same way.”

When we’re older, When we have kids... Those promises of marriage, of a loving family, of a future — they bounce off your eardrums like a mantra. Soon, you can’t even imagine thinking about anything but Peter’s words, and how much you love him right now, and how you’ll love him until your heart can’t possibly take it anymore. You can read what he’s trying to portray loud and clear — He loves you, he can see a future with you, and if there’s ever a doubt in your mind that his feelings may have changed, you can look out into the world and find pieces of his heart in every passing face.

“I haven’t been doing everything I can to make sure that’s possible, though.” He breaches your lovesick trance, reminding you that there’s still a thread of discord dangling between you. One that you can see rapidly disappearing with each passing second. “I have to go on this mission, Y/N. I wanna start helping people again. I wanna do right by him.”

“I know.” You whisper, conceding to the fact that you will always want what’s best for him, even if you aren’t a fan of the circumstances. “It doesn’t make it any less sucky.”

“C’mere.” He can barely pat his thighs before you’re crawling toward him. He passes a warm hand under your thigh once you straddle his waist, scooping you further into his lap, and uses his free hand to encompass the nape of your neck. You feel like you could melt, being cradled between his strong, toned arms, and the feeling only intensifies when his lips seek out yours. His lips are soft, and warm, and taste like listerine, and you couldn’t ask for anything more perfectly suited for you.

“I love you.” He murmurs against your lips, without a trace of uncertainty. His thumb wipes the corner of your mouth, and he continues to plant a series of sweet, soft butterfly kisses over every patch of skin he can get his lips on — your cheeks, your nose, your temple.

He’s so wrapped up in his gentle ministrations that he barely hears you return the sentiment, eyes fluttering to a close as you breathe out, “I love you.”

“Please come inside,'' he whispers against your forehead, punctuating his plea with a chaste kiss.

You pretend to entertain the thought, tapping your index finger against your chin, before shaking your head with a waggish simper. Fortunately for you, it doesn’t take long for him to take the bait, and he disappears through the window. You can just barely make out the harmony of wild rustling and hushed obscenities coming from your room before Peter is returning to your makeshift bed, clad in the cheesy “The Floor is Lava!” hoodie you snagged from a street vendor during your trip to Pompeii the summer beforehand.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, Y/N,” Peter’s voice is tight, shuffling his knees across the fretted ground as he crawls into your lap. It takes him all of three seconds to make himself comfortable, collapsing between your thighs, and you seize the opportunity to weave your fingers through his soft, chestnut locks. “I don’t think I can make this a recurring thing. I can already feel the scoliosis forming.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” you scoff, only to be met with a scandalized set of caramel hues. “I think you can make it through the night without any permanent damage to your spine.” With droopy eyes, your body starts to hum with the tell-tale signs of sleep, and your voice drips with drowsiness as you murmur, “And I wanna savor as many nights with you as I can.”

“I know,” he whispers back, the aftertaste of guilt intermingling with the abashment that follows your sleepy confession. ”I know. I’m right here, babe.”

And he swore, in that very moment, that nothing would change that.

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x reader #this plot is not the same plot i started with #[tiktok vc] what happened to the original plot of the movie?#but i hope that everyone enjoys? im a little nervous since it's my first one but #please be gentle and most importantly ENJOY #dear god i hope this shows up in the tags #mine

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hello-everyfandom · 4 years

Text

"Whatever happens, I’ll be there, right beside you.”

Warnings: ***Severe Trigger Warnings*** Disordered Eating Habits. Restricting Food Intake. Depression and Anxiety

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Words: 2.6k

Summary: The world is going to shit around you.

Fred Weasley may be many things. He may be too loud. He may be too big headed and cocky. He may not understand emotions as well as his twin. He may be internally anxious about the fastly approaching war which he knew would be nothing but deadly. But, if Fred is anything, he is utterly mad for you. He could not find any answer that could solve how you could possibly be with a boy like himself, the boy whose laughter bounces off the cobble walls, the boy who grins toothily.

The war, nearly at your fingertips, had taken an emotional and even physical toll on the students at Hogwarts. Fred was worried. He wouldn’t fully say it outloud as he believed in such tumultuous times as such humor was the best coping method. However, he was worried. Worried about you. As confident as you may have seemed, Fred knew full well of the internal demons you’ve suffered the wrath from. If he could, he’d whip out his wand and defeat them all, but it wasn’t like that. He could not even wish them away, even if he shut his eyes as tightly as he could.

Those who believed Harry Potter began preparing for battle, learning defensive spells and attacking hexes to protect themselves and protect their home. You were the first to sign up for Dumbledor’s Army alongside the twins who promised all the younger students to prank the ever loving hell out of any Death Eaters who dared roam Hogwarts.

Fred began to notice a change in your demeanor when training had hit a month or so. You were working yourself to the bone, studying as many protection spells as you could and studying the herbs and potions needed for quick healing. You assured Fred with a kiss on his cheek that you were merely getting as prepared as you could. Fred couldn’t really do anything or think of anything to argue back with, but he watched with wary eyes.

“Freddie,” you laughed, “You can wipe that worried look off your face. I’m fine!”

“But-”

“Seriously.” You patted his cheek kindly, “Go on and join the boys for dinner, I’ll be there in a moment.”

Fred nodded, slowly walking away from where you sat. He waited for you at supper, even made you a plate and made sure no one took the last chocolate pudding as he knew that was your study snack. But, you never came.

Okay, Fred thought. You must have been too buried in a book as you sometimes were. When night began to grow and he hadn’t seen you for a few hours, he began his search and bid his whining twin behind. He found you where he had last left you, still studying the words of numerous textbooks.

“Missed dinner,” Fred said softly.

“Did I?” you asked, surprised, quickly looking to the clock that hung on the wall you saw that it was nearly ten past eleven. “Oh, bollocks.” You laughed at yourself.

“Yeah, bollocks.” Fred mocked, pulling you to your feet. “Come on then, let’s sneak you something from the kitchens, yeah?”

You bit your cheek, thinking in your head, “I’m really not that hungry.”

“Really?” Fred’s eyebrows raised, “But you’re always hungry after reading, especially big, boring smelly textbooks like these.” He waved his hand accusingly at the books on the table.

With a grin, you shook your head, “Really. I had a large lunch and I’m actually rather tired.”

Fred hummed, interlocking your fingers, “Shall we head to bed then? Have a good little cuddle?”

You nodded in response and began to collect the books to take back to your dormitory.

“No, no!” Fred protested, “Don’t bring the bloody books.”

“Don’t insult the books, Freddie, lest you want a big, boring, smelly textbook in your crotch.”

Fred grumbled and complied, even taking a few of the heavier ones in his arms. Fred slept soundly that night, with his arms wrapped around you. It was only until you were tossing and turning and eventually getting up to light a candle and begin reading again. Fred looked at your hunched figure with bleary eyes.

“What in heaven’s name are you doing love?” he whispered.

“I couldn’t sleep, thought I’d read a bit instead. Go back to sleep,” you whispered back. Fred didn’t think much of this, even though he should’ve, but instead he watched you read until he unwillingly fell asleep again.

Weeks passed, more training sessions and lessons and homework upon homework. Fred kept a smile on his face, giving encouragement to the young D.A members and laughing when George would get blasted back by their little sister. You laughed as well, making Fred grin even larger. He saw you improve beyond belief, able to detect spells thrown at you. He believed wholeheartedly that you could duel with a blindfold on and shamelessly win. But to you? Your form was wonky and your wordless spells needed extreme practice. You brought it upon yourself to take extra practice times in the Room of Requirement, in the space between doing homework and studying. Those times, to Fred’s utter dismay, were usually meal times.

“But-”

“Swear on my life, Fred, I eat when I get back to the dorm, you’re usually asleep by then!”

“But-”

“Freddie, you’re going to wear yourself thin if you continue to worry about me.”

“It’s my job to worry about you.” Fred argued, “Is something wrong? Anything I can help with?”

Shaking your head, “No no, just want some time to practice, that’s all.”

“Can’t you take a little break? George and Lee haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Well,” you chuckled, “that’s not true. George and I sat next to each other during Divination and I helped Lee with his girl troubles last night.”

“Oh, but... you can still take a break! At least come to dinner?”

“Maybe,” you reached on your toes to press a kiss to Fred’s lips, “We’ll see.”

As you walked away, Fred yelled, “So see you at dinner?”

“Goodbye, Freddie!” you answered back.

Now is the time to be truthful. Standing in the Room of Requirement, alone to your own thoughts. Something was wrong. You weren’t exactly sure what and couldn’t pin where you felt anxious, but you knew something was off and was beginning to fear your love would notice as well. To be honest, you had gotten frightfully used to skipping meals. At first, it bothered your stomach as it growled and rang, but the more you ignored the ache the more you could withstand. Hunger only seemed to be a nuisance to you, distracting you from focusing. The only thing you wanted was to become stronger. Practicing and moving toned you down, but it didn’t seem enough. The girls in your year and below you were smaller, able to move quicker and think faster. Time seemed to serve you well as you put all your focus and will into exercise. When Fred and even George would approach you with plates of food, you’d fawn and smile, thanking them profusely for thinking of you. When they left, or turned an eye, you’d enchant the food away, not wanting to smell the scent of mashed potatoes and roast. The lack of food in your body displayed a false sense of security as you began to feel better and better everyday.

Fred, oh Fred, such an innocent, oblivious boy could only notice your change in routine. Had he noticed the baggy sweaters you stole from him and the sudden change in your cheeks, perhaps he would’ve cursed himself. But, he basked in the fact that he thought you were happy. It wasn’t his fault either. You did a terrific job at hiding behind large sweaters and cups of hot caffeinated tea that filled your belly.

“I’m exhausted.” you moaned, falling backwards onto your bed. Fred joined you, lying sideways so he could look at his beautiful girlfriend. To him, you were effortlessly pretty. Enchanting he may even say. Fred leaned closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing the skin of your exposed neck.

“Shall we have a nap then?”

“Maybe,” you yawned, “but you better be careful, I’m quite sore from lessons today.”

Fred joked playfully, “I know, saw you take quite a spill after Hermione spit that spell at you.”

“You would think she would’ve gone easy!” you laughed back.

“Come on, up then.”

“No, why!” you cried, refusing to take his hands.

“You buffoon, I’m going to give you a massage. You know, since I’m such a loving, perfect boyfriend to his seemingly ungrateful girlfriend.”

“You may call me ungrateful but buffoon? That’s going too far.” you bit back but nevertheless agreed and sat up so you were seated between Fred’s open legs. Fred’s thumbs quickly found your shoulders, rubbing your muscles. You moaned with the pressure of the pads of his thumbs.

“You’re more tense than a horse’s arse.” Fred commented, sticking his tongue out in concentration.

“Will you just let me enjoy this?”

“I think,” Fred touched the hem of your sweater, which was actually his from third year, “I may be able to help more if this were off.”

“Is that a pick up line?” you asked sarcastically, “Not quite bright with the ladies, are we?”

“If I was not in love with you, I’m pretty sure I would have dumped you by now,” Fred joked. Of course, that wasn’t true at all, but his comment would be something you’d think about for days on.

“Alright, but I’m only wearing a bra under this, cover your virgin eyes if you must.”

Fred scoffed and began to take off your sweater, “Virgin eyes, my cock and balls.”

The cold hit your bare skin making you shudder. Fred couldn’t see much as the low light only seemed to cast shadows. But, as he began to massage your tired muscles, he could not ignore the feeling of your shoulders in his hands. He could feel the curve of your bones and your collar which was prominent against his touch. The straps of your bra were loose. You were silent, unknowing and enjoying what you thought was a nice massage.

“Y/N,” Fred said slowly, making you open your eyes.

“Hm?” you hummed back. Fred stood from the bed making you turn to look at him with questioning eyes. Fred quickly lit a candle next to your bed, illuminating the space between you two.

“Oh my god.” He whispered under his breath.

“Well, that’s not very nice to hear, is it?” you responded, feeling a little hurt.

“No, no,” Fred said quickly, trying to assure you. But he had seen you already. Upon the skin of your back, you were littered with bruises from practice. Spots of black and blue touched you and curved with your spine. He could nearly count every joint and sucked in a breath of harsh air.

“Darling,” his voice slower and slower, trying to grasp and piece together what is happening.

“What’s wrong? What is it?” you asked frantically, trying to look at your back. You breathed a breath of relief, “Oh, the bruises? Those are just from practicing from dueling.”

“No...” he swallowed, “Will you... turn around for me?” Fred asked. You turned and sat to face him, completely unsure of what was happening with your usual bubbly boyfriend. As you shifted, Fred nearly fainted to his feet. You had grown thinner, he could see the tops of your ribs and the thinness of your arms.

“What is it? Freddie, honey, you’re worrying me.”

He thought. A million thoughts fastly flying through his head, his tongue going dry and swelling. “When was the last time you ate?”

Immediately, you covered your body with your arms, attempting to hide and searched for your sweater that Fred had thrown somewhere. “What are you talking about? Fred, that’s a little rude.”

“Be honest with me.” Fred said sternly, sitting down in front of you. You tossed your sweater over your head, shying into the safety of the fabric.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Fred, what the hell?” you asked, angrily and frankly, a little embarrassed. To you, it didn’t seem like a worried boyfriend but a judgemental boyfriend, scanning your body for imperfections and flaws. But Fred was nothing but worried, fearful and terrified.

“You need to tell me, right now. No bullshit. Have you been eating?” Fred’s voice was never serious, never as serious as now where his tone made you shake and cower. Fred noticed your face drop and the scared emotion in your eyes and mentally kicked himself. He was quiet, thinking again.

“This isn’t healthy, Y/N.” he whispered. His words made your stomach drop and your hands become cold with sweat.

“Fred-”

“You haven’t been eating, have you?” Fred asked, already knowing the answer. He began to desperately file through his memories. Like a shade drawn up, he nearly threw up. These few days, you were exhausted, couldn’t stand as well, shaking when standing. He thought of himself as foolish.

“Answer, please.” Fred begged. He grasped your hands in his, only now noticing your skinny fingers. “Please, my love, please. Have you been eating?”

Fred’s begging made you whimper. The sadness in his tone made your eyes well and your throat close until you could only spit out the words, “I can’t.”

“Tell me,” Fred cried out.

“I can’t eat. I feel sickly when I eat.”

Fred choked out a sob. He rarely cried but seeing how oblivious he was to your pain made him stricken with grief.

“But, it’s okay.” you said quickly after, nodding your head, “I’m fine.”

“No,” Fred gripped your tighter, “You’re not fine, darling.”

“I can eat anytime I want,” you tried to persuade him, or you, you weren’t sure which one.

“But, you won’t.” Your boyfriend said. The truth, the truth you had been cowardly hiding from was there, in front of your face, and this time you could not hide. Your silence was all the answers he needed. You couldn’t control yourself. You began to cry alongside him, sorrowful for everything that lived.

“What happened? Love? Tell me,”

“I-” you stuttered and struggled to breath, Fred moved so he could rub your back, still looking at you, “I don’t know. I. It started one day and then I guess, well I. I don’t know. I guess, I guess the stress and...” you cried harder, “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” Fred hushed you, pulling you in for a hug, wrapping his long arms around your wracking figure. “I’m here now, I won’t leave you. I’m here. I’ll help,”

“You can’t help!” your lips quivered, pulling back harshly in a state of disarray. “You can’t! I- I don’t. You can't. I don’t know.” you couldn’t say anything. Fred placed his hands, gently, on your cheeks, staring into the eyes of the woman he adored.

“We’ll try. I’ll try, and so will you.” Fred assured you, rubbing your cheeks.

“I don’t know if I can.” you said, hiccuping through cries.

“You can. You’re so unbelievably strong, I’ve seen you whoop several old sods in our year’s ass. And I know,” Fred moved your head softly so he could look at you better, “I know my words may not help, but I think you are so beautiful. Whatever happens, I’ll be there, right beside you.”

It wasn’t an exact solution and it didn’t automatically nor immediately solve anything, but it was something. It was what you needed to hear at the moment. To know you weren’t alone facing not only the physical battle of the external world but the internal one. It would take time, time needed, to be yourself again. Even still, on the days you felt worse, Fred would squeeze your hand in his and press a kiss on your lips.

#fred weasley #fred weasley fic #fred wealsey imagines #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine

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hansols-yoda-boxers · 3 years

Text

Camp North Star - August 31st

AFAB!Reader x Yanan

Word Count: 3904

Contents: oral (male receiving), fingering, eating ass, protected sex, a mistake, Yanan being a very good sport

You walked into Cabin Hydrus with a sigh. Most of your work was done now and you felt a bit listless. You and Wonwoo were getting along, you were chatting, joking, all of those things, but it just didn’t quite feel like before. There was some kind of strange tension between the two of you that you just couldn’t place. You wanted to ask him about it but you didn’t even know what to ask. Something was slightly off kilter and it didn’t feel how you wanted it to feel.

You also hadn’t thought too hard about that either.

Yanan gasped. “We’re being graced by their presence, the whore.”

You snorted and grabbed a pillow off Changgu’s bed, whipping it at Yanan. He laughed, batting it away from him while the others chuckled. You walked across the small cabin to where Yanan’s bed was, sitting down on the foot of it. The others went back to chatting.

“What did you want?” Yanan asked.

“I’m bored,” you mumbled. “I’m looking for something to waste time on.”

“You sure?” He asked quietly.

You eyed him. “You aren’t the first person to ask that and yes I’m sure.”

“If more than one person is asking you that-”

“Listen, I came in here to find something to take my mind off of things. I have only a few days left and I probably won’t keep this up once school starts. I’m a grown person, I can make my own decisions.”

“Fair enough, and you can deal with the consequences.”

“Are you trying to tell me you have an infection,” you snorted.

Yanan kicked you, albeit gently. “Firstly, STIs happen. Secondly, I”ll have you know I’m as clean as a whistle.”

“Good,” you said. “Should I ask about the other consequences?”

“Your own emotional consequences,” he said.

“I’m not suffering emotionally,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.

“You say that like I don’t know what repressed emotions look like,” he chuckled.

“What would I even be repressing?” You asked.

“You know what, I’m gonna let you figure it out on your own. I think even if I told you you wouldn’t believe me.”

You groaned and got up, exasperated. Yanan grabbed your waist and you let out a yelp that drew the attention of Yoohyeon, Changgu, and Jihyo as you fell back into his lap.

“I didn’t say I want you to leave,” He was already murmuring in your ear. It would have been hotter if you weren’t annoyed at him. “I’m fine with being a vehicle for bad decisions.”

“I am not making a bad decision,” you muttered as Yanan looked over your shoulder.

“Can we steal the cabin for a bit?” He asked, a little too sweetly.

“What are we gonna do?” Changgu pouted.

“I’m sure we’ll find something entertaining,” Jihyo grinned, taking his and Yoohyeon’s hands and starting to pull them towards the door. “I’ll make sure it takes some time.”

“Love you, babe,” Yanan grinned.

“Right back at you, babe,” Jihyo smirked before pushing the others out the door.

“I swear this cabin is some kind of swingers club,” you muttered.

“Wouldn’t it have been fun if you and Wonwoo were in here?”

You bristled a little. “Not at first,” you said. “He would have been too awkward for that.”

“True,” Yanan said. “You loosened him up.”

You shifted around, straddling Yanan’s lap. “We don’t have to talk about Wonwoo. We don’t have to talk about anyone else.”

Yanan rested his hands on your waist. “You waste no time.”

“Why bother? I know what I’m here for.” You murmured, leaning a little closer to him.

“What if I didn’t want to?” He teased with a grin.

“Unlikely,” you said, fingers tangling into his hair. “But it’s not like you’re the only other slut at camp.”

Yanan chuckled against your lips. “In that case, anything particular that you want?”

“I just need something to fully consume my mind.”

His hands slipped down to your ass as he pulled you flush against him. “I can do that.”

Yanan finally met your lips in a kiss, urging you to start grinding down on his lap. You did your best to focus on what you could feel, the way he was gripping your ass, the way his lips moved with yours in a series of kisses, the slight friction you were getting as you started to grind down on his lap.

You might as well take advantage of fun while you could, and wanted to. This was both easier and more fun at camp, but it was also only for the summer, a brief foray into whore-dom before coming back to your usual life. There were precious few days left and you were bored with free time. And Yanan was hot.

And he was there.

You sighed against his lips, pressing into him as his tongue pressed past your lips. He deepened the kisses, a hand moving to the small of your back to keep you there as your fingers tangled in his hair held him closer to you. You tried to only focus on these things, trying to get your mind into the moment and pushing away the intrusions of any other thoughts.

As you made out, he urged you to move your hips a little faster. You could feel him getting harder underneath you. Your brain toyed around with ideas of what to do next before you made up your mind, pulling away from him. Yanan gave you a disgruntled pout but you merely grinned at him as you slipped back and moved off the bed and onto your knees on the floor.

“You pout like I’m going to disappoint you.” You chuckled, fingers undoing the waist of his jeans.

“The night is still young,” he grinned, lifting his hips as you pulled off his pants and boxers off. “You just might yet.”

“I’m not going to disappoint you,” you laughed, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock. “I assure you, you’ll be satisfied.”

“Are you trying to sell me on it?” He chuckled.

“Shut up and let me pleasure you,” you chided, though your tone was humorous. Yanan couldn’t help his chuckling but he rested back a little, bracing himself with his hands on the bed as you started to kiss along his cock.

He let out a quiet sigh at the feeling and you grinned to yourself. As if you didn’t know what you were doing at this point. If you hadn’t managed to improve in bed at all this summer that would just be a massive personal failure.

You teased his tip, sucking it between your lips as you started to pump the base of his cock, not holding him too firmly and listening to the quiet sighs he let out. Your gaze looked up at him sweetly and he bit his lip at the sight of you as your tongue ran along the underside of his cock before you sucked the tip back in again.

“Are you only going to tease?” He questioned.

“So impatient,” you murmured with a grin.

You still obliged him though, taking him into your mouth slowly. You took him as far down as you were comfy, squeezing your hand a little more around the base of his cock. You pumped him a little faster as you set a steady pace, each time you pulled your mouth back hollowing your cheeks around his cock.

Yanan let out a groan, hand finding your hair, though he let you keep the pace you had. You flickered your gaze up to him again to find his eyes were closed and his head was hanging to the side as he let himself enjoy it, fingers gripping a little at the sheets as he spread his legs a little wider for you.

You hummed around his cock, trying to lose yourself in the sounds. His sighs had grown into low groans as you sucked him off. You took in each one, letting it sink into you and trickle through your mind and body. You felt the small shivers of arousal that were starting to run down your spine and your stomach.

“That is good,” Yanan hummed.

You let out a groan around his cock and he chuckled.

“I didn’t actually doubt you, but damn this is really good.”

You moved a little faster just because you could, drawing another groan from his lips and causing his hand in your hair to tighten. You added a twist to the movement of your hand, enjoying the way he started to press his hips towards you for more.

Slowly, your body was asking for more. As you managed to at least somewhat relax your mind and your body was growing needier. More of the groans he let out had heat pooling in the pit of your stomach and in your core. You shifted a little, becoming more aware of it with each passing moment.

“Fuck, just like that,” Yanan let his head fall back, eyes closed as you started taking him a little deeper. You kept your throat as relaxed as you could and took him into your mouth more deeply. It might not have been the best deep throating but the way Yanan moaned told you that it was pleasurable nonetheless.

“Do that again,” he said breathlessly.

A grin would have tugged your lips apart if your mouth wasn’t stuffed full. Instead, you moaned around his cock, enjoying the way it made him curse as your actions affected him more and more.

You took him deeply into your mouth again, this time holding it while pumping the base of his cock. His groan was much louder as a tremor ran through his legs from how the sensation hit him. You stayed until you needed more air, pulling back to breath before doing it again.

“F-Fuck-” Yanan pressed your head down a little more, as much as you would let him. His increasingly aroused sounds only had you wanting more, thinking about how warm you were, how you were feeling the need between your legs growing by the second. It had you squeezing his cock a little more in your hand, pumping what little bit wasn’t in your mouth a little more roughly.

“Okay,” Yanan breathed, pulling you back suddenly. “Your turn.”

“I could hav-”

Yanan pulled you up to his lap again. “Let’s not be too hasty. Postponing the finale is a lot more fun.”

He kissed you again, a little more feverish now as his fingers pulled at your shirt. You let him pull it up over your head, then kissed him again. Your hands ran down his chest as he undid your bra, letting it fall down your arms until you shrugged it off and threw it aside. The need between your legs was somehow more evident now as you tugged his shirt off, sitting back for a moment to admire his toned chest, his own gaze travelling down your body.

Yanan smirked. “Enjoying the view?”

“As if you’re not doing the exact same thing,” you snorted.

Yanan brought a hand to your chin, pulling you in again.

“Guilty,” he purred, before kissing you. You let yourself enjoy the kisses for a little while but you were getting impatient and feeling Yanan’s hard cock under you as you sat on his lap was only making it worse. You found yourself grinding down against him for some kind of friction as he kissed you, finally hearing him chuckle.

You didn't have a chance to ask what was funny though. Instead he quickly pushed you from his lap and onto all fours on the bed. You let out a yelp in the process, just managing to steady yourself before he started pulling off your shorts and panties.

“I take it you need some attention?” He murmured.

“Please,” you whined.

Yanan kept you on your knees, spreading your legs wide as he settled behind you.

“Look at you, all wet and needy.”

“You don’t know how wet I was before I got here,” you pointed out.

“Are you telling me you were so bored on your own that you needed my assistance?” He chuckled, kissing and nipping at your thighs, making you gasp.

“N-No- That’s not- uh-” You blamed you inability to come up with a comeback to the lust that was clouding your brain currently and not the having backed yourself into a corner.

“Sounds like I’ve just made your whole night better,” you felt one of his hands slip up your inner thigh as he nipped at your ass. “You’re welcome.”

“You don’t need to be s-so-” The words didn’t make it off your tongue, instead a moan fell from your lips as Yanan dragged his fingers through your folds and over your clit. He chuckled at your reaction.

“And I was so nice, I told you that I was feeling good. And you can’t even admit I’m affecting you.” He let out a “tut tut” before pressing in towards you.

You opened your mouth to speak but all of your words were lost in an instant. Yanan brought two fingers up to your cunt, pushing them in slowly and starting to curl them in a heavenly way. At the same time he brought his tongue to your ass, running around the edge of it in a way that had you gripping the sheets below you.

Yanan hummed against you, clearly proud of himself for rendering you speechless. As much as you wanted to say something witty there was no wit left in your brain. His fingers found a more quick, steady pace while his tongue moved in slow circles and his other hand kept your legs apart.

You were very worked up, very needy, you knew that, but it seemed even more than you realized. The way Yanan’s fingers filled you were divine and you pushed down exactly what they were reminding you of in favour of pressing your hips back towards him for more.

You felt the way he twisted his fingers into you, curling them, scissoring them, rubbing inside of you and moving a little faster here or there just to draw some more moans from your lips. Each movement of his fingers sent a rush of pleasure through your body. Some were better than others but those just made you jolt or jerk your hips back. You felt your arms trembling, trying to hold you up.

“P-Please, m-more,” you managed. As much as you liked being composed with Yanan it felt too good for you to sound anything other than whiny or needy.

“Of course,” he purred, slowing his fingers.

You let out a moan as he pressed three fingers into your pussy easily. The slight stretch, the sensation was wonderful. You let yourself down to your elbows for more support as your thighs shook a little from his ministration.

His tongue slowly pressed inside of you. Even with your eyelids closed you could feel your eyes roll back at the feeling. The pleasure was building into a tension that was pulling your body tight. You were quickly loving every second of it but some part of you was also itching for more. There were thoughts still lingering in your mind and maybe being fucked senseless was what you needed to knock them loose.

“F-Fuck me,” you mumbled.

Yanan pulled back. “Hmm?”

“P-Please fuck me,” you managed, any pretense of shame or cockiness gone.

“Now how could I say no to that?” He asked.

Yanan pulled his fingers away from you. You took the time to catch your breath, not moving from your spot as he found a condom. You listened to him tearing open the package and waited for him to roll it on before he had one hand on your hip, kneeling on the bed behind you.

“Do you want it-”

“Hard,” you said, fingers curling into the sheets in anticipation.

Yanan chuckled. “Alright.”

He guided his cock into you smoothly, making sure he had the right angle and bottoming out. You let a moan fall off of your lips at the pleasure as your cunt stretched around his cock, feeling the way he filled you. Yanan brought his other hand to your hip, holding you firmly and rolling his hips slowly a few times, just to tease.

You started to whine but he quickly pulled back, nearly fully out of you before thrusting back into you cunt, hard.

A tremor ran through your arms and a cry cascaded off your lips at the sudden sensation, the sudden burst of pleasure through your body from his sharp thrusts. They quickly consumed the last of your brain power as he pulled out slowly a few times before giving hard thrusts.

His grip on your hips tightened as he started fucking you fast, but it was still just as deep and just as rough. You let your arms fully give out and you let out a series of moans and gasps. Your face fell against the bed and you turned it to the side for air, arms splayed out over the bed and fingers gripping at the sheets.

Yanan let out a series of low groans and grunts as he fucked into you, his hips thrusting forward only a little more than how he pulled you back roughly to meet his cock each time. He had to be chasing his own high at this speed, this ferocity and it only made your body tremble more as tension started to tie you tight.

“You feel so fucking good,” his voice was breathy and very affected.

“Fuck, Wonwoo.”

Yanan hips stuttered to a stop. The disgruntled whine made it off your lips before your lust addled brain pieced together what you’d done.

Your eyes shot open and you looked back at Yanan with shock and embarrassment as he regarded you with genuine surprise.

“Oh my god. Yanan I am so sorry-”

Yanan’s lips twitch before pulling into a wide smile and then breaking into a laugh. He doubled over you, wrapping his hands around your waist and howling with laughter as you tried to make sense of his reaction in any way, shape, or form.

“Oh my god!” He cried, squeezed your waist before shifting and sliding out of you.

“Wait, no!” You whined as he helped you to settle on the bed before taking off the condom. “Come on. It was an accident.”

Yanan was still laughing, shaking his head. “That was more than an accident.” You watched as he wrapped his hand around his cock and started pumping it quickly.

“Yanan, please. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again-”

He waved to cut you off, shoulders still shaking with quiet chuckles. “I need you to sit with that for a few minutes and ask yourself, honestly, why you did that.”

“I didn’t- fine, whatever,” you grumbled, pulling your knees up to your chest and eyeing him getting off. Clearly he wasn’t going to continue with this tonight.

You didn’t see what the big deal was, why everyone was acting like this. He had asked if you really wanted to be with him, so had Soonyoung. Minji told you to work through your feelings. Why was everyone so obsessed with this? What did they know that you didn’t? Why didn’t Yanan think it was an accident?

Of course it was. Wonwoo kept slipping into your mind but that wasn’t your fault. When you were having sex thoughts of him would pop up, memories of what he did that you liked so much. And sure other little things reminded you of him, you noticed how much things had changed, anyone would.

It wasn’t a problem that you thought about him. People think about people a lot anyway. You thought about your ex a lot once you broke up. And maybe that wasn’t a good comparison. But the point was that people think about the people they care about. You could admit you cared about Wonwoo. You could admit you missed having sex with him. You could even admit that you felt a little weird about how he felt about Yoohyeon.

Yanan let out a quiet groan as he came over his fingers. You sighed as he cleaned himself up quickly and found his boxers. He gave a pointed look while you pouted at him.

“Well?”

“Well what?” You muttered. “So I think about him a lot, so what?”

“Oh my god,” Yanan groaned. “Okay, then I will take you through this in baby steps. You think about him during sex?”

“Yeah,” you muttered.

“And outside of sex?”

“Of course, he’s my friend.”

“How did you feel when he told you about his crush?”

“How do you-”

“He told me,” Yanan rolled his eyes. “How did you feel?”

“I don’t know, weird?”

“Weird how?”

“Just weird?? Why are you-”

“Because you’ve been fucking this up so clearly you can’t get there on your own. It wasn’t just weird. Break down weird. What did you really feel?”

“I-I don’t know?” You cried. “It makes me feel just, upset? I mean he didn’t even tell me before that and we were sleeping together and he seemed like he really liked it. I didn’t wanna be around him for a while and I kinda took off. It was just…”

“Just what?”

“I don’t- uh- like, painful?” You said, searched through your feelings.

Yanan gave you an expectant look. “Why would it be painful?”

“How should I know?”

“Come on you are not that stupid,” he said, ignoring your look of indignation. “Friend A tells Friend B “I like Friend Y.” Barring Y being a terrible person, what is the only legit reason that Friend B would get upset.”

“Friend B likes Friend A.” You said, it was the only explanation that made sense.

“So?”

“So? So…” You felt your stomach drop. “N-No I don’t though I-I mean h-how- I would have-”

“Bitch, you have been repressing your feelings so hard you don’t even recognize them,” Yanan sighed. “You’ve been drowning in sex instead of letting yourself feel anything. You got upset when he said he liked someone else, which was a lie by the way. You get awkward if Yoohyeon is within 2 meters of him. You haven’t been able to fix your relationship back to what it was.”

It felt like the realization was hitting you like a truck as you sat in stunted silence for a moment.

“I’m in love with Wonwoo.”

“Duh,” Yanan rolled his eyes. “Glad you finally figured that out.”

You jumped off the bed, hastily throwing on your clothes. “I have to talk to him. And what do you mean he was lying?”

“Yeah, you should go talk to him,” Yanan said. “You didn’t wanna cum, did you?”

“There are more important things in life than an orgasm,” You said, bouncing as you pulled on your shoe.

Yanan snorted. “True. And good luck. Please don’t fuck it up again.”

“Asshole.”

“Bitch.”

You stopped before leaving. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, now go get your fairytale ending.”

----------

You burst into Cabin Lupus but your face fell when you spotted Wonwoo’s empty bed. Some of you cabin mates were already sleeping but Wonwoo was either out for the night or out until late.

You walked to your cabin and slumped down onto your bed.

It would just have to wait until tomorrow.

#oooooooo #hehehehe #also props to yanan #friend of the year #camp north star au #cns au #pentagon imagines #pentagon smut #yanan imagines #yanan smut #yan an imagines #yan an smut

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kisskeiji · 4 years

Text

6. Love me right.

Lost & Found.

WARNINGS: language, mentions of self doubt and spiraling

The closer the Volleyball Association awards ceremony was, the busier your schedule was, with the end of the season and the team winning their final match your phone wouldn’t stop ringing with reporters from sports magazines and channels trying to get a word from the athletes, the team went on for at least three weeks without a break; everyone was way too exhausted to bear with another interview. You had to travel around the country for away games every other week and the moment you came back home after the season finale you had to jump back into ‘babysitter duty’ supervising the press conferences, television appearances and exclusive interviews. You tried to relieve the soreness of your neck by rubbing it as you walked to the meeting room where everyone including the team waited for you.

“Please no more interviews, Y/N, we are begging.” Inunaki said as soon as you entered the room. Everyone looked at you with pleading eyes — everyone except Bokuto who was busy stuffing himself with cookies—, you sighed and took your seat next to Imai.

“We are done with your schedule, don’t worry about that.” You said and turned to greet your team, taking the coffee one of your assistants got you and taking a big sip almost forgetting the drink was hot, your face contorted in pain but you tried your best to hide it, you were wide awake now, not from the coffee but from your burnt tongue.

“Let’s make this quick guys, I think we all want to go home.” Hideko got up from her seat and buttoned her coat. “Season’s over, congratulations on your win, the sponsors and everyone’s pockets are extremely happy.” Everyone laughed at her comment as she kept talking. “I think the promotion period was even more exhausting than the matches for you guys, and we are thankful to all of you because surprisingly no one messed things up, so our headlines are clear.” You nodded along her speech while you reviewed your notes. Hideko thanked the staff and also talked about what was about to come with the new year approaching. “We are holding to our usual holiday agenda, the training grounds and the gym are open if you want to train by yourself but I don’t think coach Foster wants to see your faces for at least a month.”

“She’s right, please stay away from me.” Coach Foster said massaging the bridge of his nose and the team smiled, they all knew the man cared deeply for them and their well being. Bokuto, who was sitting beside him, gave him a side hug that made him grasp for whatever surface was in front of him.

“Bokuto, stop tormenting the poor man.” Hideko glared at him. “As you might know, the big night it’s on New Year's eve. Some of the staff is required such as Y/N and her team, me, of course.” She rolled her eyes with her hand on her chest, stating his presence as a given. “And our athletic trainers, so don’t make plans this year. The rest of the staff is invited too but have the option not to go and spend the holiday with their families like normal people.” She sighed, not precisely delighted with the idea of spending new year technically working.

“I can take care of things if any of you want to go home.” You said to your three assistants and they nodded.

“Players are allowed to bring a plus one, blah blah blah, you know the drill. Please, you are grown adults and it’s the time of the year you can drink, don’t do something stupid that can end in more work for us.” She took her coffee cup from the table. “Any questions?” She asked before drinking from it, having the same reaction you had earlier to the hot beverage. “That’s really hot, shit.” She cussed.

“Do we have to wear a suit and tie?” Bokuto asked.

“Yes, Bokuto, it’s a gala.”

“But I don’t know how to tie a tie.” He said, looking at Hideko with sad eyes.

“Wear a bow one.” She answered without enthusiasm. “Y/N take the lead, I have another meeting with scary people with money.” She really meant the sponsors and the team owners, for someone as fierce and imposing to be intimidated by them meant they were business and one she had to tiptoe around to keep them happy, after meeting them at the team party you understood why she avoided them like the plague.

“I just have some things to run with you guys and then we can go home, I’m not taking too long.” You stood up when Hideko left. “No more interviews, your schedule is closed for the rest of the month and I will start booking once we announce the team tryouts on mid January. Like always, I'm not responsible for paparazzi’s but if you get spotted you already know what to do.” Taking a deep breath you continued as you reviewed your notebook. “Regarding the awards, if you win something the interviews are not in my hands, so expect casual interviews the day after. We will be monitoring during the holidays too, so you can call me if something happens.” You looked up to everyone listening to you attentively.

It felt good, being respected felt good. You were more than thankful for the opportunities you had and for taking the position, specially with the Black Jackals, it was a family in every aspect and you felt welcomed since day one and being recognized for all your work the past six months was enough for you to walk with your head up high again proud of your work and your team. “And lastly, I would like to thank all of you for working so well this season and putting up with the hell sent schedule we had the past month. I think we all did a great job.” You offered a bright smile to everyone in the room.

“Are you kidding? You saved our asses this season, Y/N! We should be thanking you.” Inunaki said and everyone agreed.

“That’s true, you did an amazing job since day one.” You looked at Meian who smiled at you fondly.

“Well, it was a team effort, my girls worked really hard too.” You pointed at your three assistants who looked at you with pink cheeks and shiny eyes. “Well, unless any of you have any questions I think that’s it for today.” Everyone gathered their belongings and left the meeting room, you went straight to your office to get your purse and lock the place before heading home.

“Wanna have some lunch with ‘Samu?” You heard Atsumu say.

“That depends, can I pay for my food?”

“Not a chance.” He shook his head. “He invited Kita-san and Suna apparently likes you better than me and asked me to invite you.” He explained and you raised a brow.

“You don’t want me there?” You laid on your desk, hands resting on your sides and legs crosses in front of you, he rolled his eyes and walked closer to you.

“Of course I do, what are you talking about?” His warm hand caressed your cheek and you held to his wrist moving his hand to rest on your shoulder. “So? You coming or not. If you don’t ‘Samu will be mad at me.”

“He’s a big boy, he’ll live.” You joked and he poked your side. “Let me lock the place and we can go.” You grabbed your keys from your desk and locked your office, hoping to not have to come back in a few weeks. Sighing, you turned back to see Atsumu holding his car keys and a smug grin, you walked out the training grounds and to the parking lot where some members of the team had a conversation outside their cars, you waved goodbye and Atsumu opened the front seat door for you.

“Driving her again, Miya?” Barnes asked boarding his own car.

“Such a gentleman, I’m so proud.” Inunaki followed.

“Very funny, Inu-san. But no, we are having lunch with my brother.” You couldn’t really hear what they were saying right after he closed the door, but figured that they were still messing with him by Atsumu’s expression. “God, they are so annoying.” He grumbled when he got in the car.

“Everything okay?” You looked at him in the eye, his brows were furrowed and a few creases showed his frustration and annoyance at his teammates. You ran your thumb across his forehead and smiled. “You are going to get wrinkles before you turn thirty, ‘Tsumu.” His ears turned red at your sudden touch and he tried to hide it by frowning even more.

“Let’s just go.” He could almost swear his heart was about to burst out of his chest. He started the car engine and maneuvered in reverse turning his head back and his hand intentionally placed on the head rest of your seat. “You have plans for the holidays?”

“My family is coming for Christmas and we are visiting some relatives not too far from here; and of course the awards, I might travel to Miyagi to see some friends but I’m not sure yet.” You played with the seatbelt as you recounted your plans. “What about you?”

“‘Samu and I are going to Hyogo to see our parents, we usually visit Kita and his grandma with the rest of the team the day after christmas and then Suna and I are driving to Tokyo for the party.” With his body slightly forward making sure there were no other cars, he took the turn to the avenue where Onigiri Miya was located, his finger drummed on the gear shift to the music from the radio.

“Osamu is not going to the party?” You questioned.

“He gave vacations to all of his employees and has to take care of the shop.” He explained and stopped the car in front of the shop. “I'm starving.” You took your seatbelt off and opened the door at the same time as him, not giving him time to open the door for you like he always did, but he was faster than you and opened the entrance door. It was almost noon so the shop was quite busy, people in the stalls and booths enjoying their food and talking about their days, the constant sound of silverware jingling and the smell of fresh rice welcomed you into the shop as you walked to the counter where Suna’s slouched figure waited. Atsumu greeted him with a pat on his back, making Suna turn around to shake hands and ‘bro hug’ him. “Where 's ‘Samu?

“The kitchen, he should be done by now. Hi, Y/N.” Suna pushed Atsumu to the side and grinned at you lazily.

“Hey Suna, I haven’t seen you since the match in Sendai.” Like Hana, Suna got along with you pretty fast, you caught up with his sarcastic humor and easy going personality, he showed you a lot of photos from his high school memories, he was a great story teller, never missing embarrassing details and adding snarky comments here and there. On said match at Sendai, you finally figured out why he looked so familiar the first time you met him. It turns out he went to the same university as you and you interviewed the middle blocker once for an article when you were a journalist for your school’s newspaper. When you told him he laughed at you saying he already knew but wanted to see how long it would take you to figure it out.

“Well, you’ve been busy.” He looked to the side, his tone was bitter, the taste of defeat lingering on his tongue after losing the finals to the Black Jackals.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Suna.” You said taking the seat by his side, almost missing his jaw clenching. “Losing is normal, you don’t have to feel bad about it.” You teased.

“You are not going to let me live that one down, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely not.” You looked at Atsumu this time, he was looking at his phone screen clearly bored, he was extremely moody when hungry, that’s something you learnt during the season when he would go quiet for hours and back to his usual self once he had something to eat. “You okay?” You asked and he laid his head on your shoulder.

“I’m hungry.” He groaned. You gave him a few pats on the side of his face and felt his body relax to your touch as you continued your chat with Suna.

“Am I interrupting something?” Osamu chimed in coming out of the kitchen, making his brother get up instantly. “Food is almost ready, before you ask.”

“Perfect timing.” You heard a stern voice behind you and all three tensed, you looked behind you to see Kita removing his cap. “I need some help with the rice bags, mind helping me?” Atsumu and Osamu made their way to the door and to Kita’s truck in no time, Kita trailing behind.

“Why do you guys look so scared?” You asked Suna.

“Are you kidding? Kita popped out of nowhere!” Suna whispered, as if Kita could hear him from outside the shop. “He’s really scary sometimes.” You rolled your eyes. Kita was intimidating and really severe, but not enough to make you shiver.

“You only say that because you guys always do something to upset him.”

“That’s not true.” He exclaimed.

“Nothing to hide, nothing to fear, dear.” The restaurant doors opened, showing Atsumu and Osamu fighting to get in first, pushing each other, Suna and you watched unamused, knowing one of them would get hurt sooner or later, you were now used to their sometimes not so playful fighting. Just as you were placing your bet with Suna, they stopped on their tracks and Osamu stepped back to let Atsumu walk in. “What just happened?” You asked yourself rather than Suna, Kita stood behind the twins , Atsumu walked past you and lifted the countertop door, leaving the rice bag on the cold table. You heard Osamu mumble ‘I’m sorry, Kita-san.’ from the door and went straight to the kitchen. You couldn’t believe how easily he made the twins calm down.

“Sorry about that.” Kita apologized to you.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m already used to it.” You said calmly. Kita and Atsumu sat down and Osamu came out of the kitchen with another server, one plate of onigiri on each hand. You thanked him and the server who gave you a water bottle. Atsumu, as impatient as he was, scarfed down the extremely hot onigiri and immediately opened his mouth, steam came out from it and he whined in pain, placing his hand under his chin to prevent food from spilling. Everyone watched him jump on his seat chanting ‘hot, hot, hot’ as he tried to chew the rice ball, you giggled and opened his water bottle for him, when he finally swallowed his food he exhaled in relief and gulped down half of the contents from the plastic bottle.

“Where are your manners, Atsumu? You can’t do that kind of thing in front of the girl you are courting.” Kita reprimanded him and Atsumu choked on his water, little droplets spilling on the counter. Suna and Osamu couldn’t stop laughing at the setter — you were laughing too, but you felt bad for Atsumu— you made sure he wasn’t choking anymore and excused yourself to the bathroom, ears burning from Kita’s comment. “What was that?” Atsumu’s eyes almost popped out of his face.

“What?” Kita asked, unbothered.

“The girl you are courting? Really?” Atsumu stressed running his hands through his hair.

“Well, aren’t you?” Kita inquired.

“Yes! But it sounds weird when you say it like that.” Embarrassed, Atsumu rested his head on the counter looking at Suna’s direction, Osamu wiped the wet surface and yanked Atsumu’s hair lightly to make him sit correctly as you joined them again, asking him if he felt better, he nodded and moved closer to you. As always, Osamu’s food was amazing and you had fun messing with Suna and Osamu, so much that you didn’t noticed the moment they all started planning the next reunion at your place, claiming that it was your initiation as the newest addition to the group, but you knew they just were nosy, even Kita was curious to know where you lived, so you couldn’t say no.

You waited outside the restaurant with Kita who insisted on keeping you company while Atsumu and Suna helped Osamu with something in the back. “How are things going between you two?” He asked, completely aware of how vague the question was, just wanting to test the waters. You gulped and met his eyes.

“Atsumu and I? Uh, fine, I guess.” You answered uncertainly, tilting your head.

“He’s taking too long.” He asserted with his arms crossed.

“I guess you are right, but I don’t want to rush anything or make him feel like he has to do something when I could easily take the first step, but I’m afraid he’s not sure yet.” You rambled in your place, Kita grinned and looked away. “You meant inside the shop, right?” His grin widened at your question and you huffed in frustration. “That was not funny.”

“I didn’t do anything, but now that you got that out of your system, I think that’s a conversation you should have with Atsumu. It’s almost painful seeing you two being limited by a simple title when you can fix that rather easily, I don’t know what’s stopping you.” He pondered.

‘A lot of things.’ You thought. You fixed your eyes on the glass door, you could see Atsumu coming out of the kitchen along with his brother, he looked upset, dragging his feet with every step like a kicked puppy. “Think about it.” That was Kita’s final remark before Atsumu walked out the door, you waved goodbye to Osamu and Kita and walked to Atsumu’s car, feeling a familiar numbness on your limbs and the stinging sensation on your head increased with every passing minute.

Kita’s words were crude, but you were sure he meant no harm, but even so, the last thing you wanted to do was thinking about the stage of your pseudo-relationship with Atsumu, the reality check tied to it was terrifying. You didn’t want to ruin everything, afraid of not being what he wanted but what he settled for, —or even worse, a distraction— you tried to shrug it all away, but it was hard to believe after all you went through. The thought of not being enough was enough to make you shiver, muscle memory taking you back to the time where you lost yourself to the viciousness of your own brain and it’s deprecating self speech of unworthiness and pity.

You were stronger now, yes, but at what cost? You now lacked trust and silently craved reassurance or a sign that you were doing things right for yourself this time.

Staring at the road lost in your thought you couldn’t hear Atsumu calling your name, you felt a big hand on your knee, moving it slightly to get your attention. “Are you okay?” He was clearly worried, luckily the traffic light turned red, you turned your head and stared at him confused. “You are a bit out of it since we left the restaurant.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking. You said something?”

“I was saying that my building’s management called and said the complex is out of power and that it would take a few hours to fix the problem, and I asked you if I could stay with you for a few hours.” He repeated himself.

“Sure, it’s still really early, we can watch a movie if you want to.” You offered trying to ease the tension. “Anything but Fast and Furious.”

“Come on! They are amazing.” He protested. The light turned green and he moved the car.

“We watch them every time you are at my place.” You complained. “Let’s watch something else, it’s getting old.” Atsumu gasped, offended by your comment.

“Terminator then.” He laughed at your annoyed expression and kept driving ‘til you reached your building’s parking lot. You changed your clothes while Atsumu picked the movie. He was really worried about you, what happened at the restaurant? He texted Kita asking if you said something or looked uncomfortable while he was being lectured by Osamu and Suna. ‘You need to talk.’ was Kita’s reply, sighing he left his phone on the coffee table and waited for you to come out of your room.

‘I don’t know what game you are playing here, but don’t waste that girl’s time.’

Osamu’s words replayed in his head. Was he really taking too long? He knew the answer to that question, but uncertainty always fogged his thinking, and a thousand other questions creeped inside, making it harder for him to tell you how much he needed you. How much would things change if the unspoken pact you two created turned into a real talk, would you stay?

He was not afraid of commitment, he was afraid that he never committed to anything that wasn’t volleyball, he didn’t know how to be a boyfriend but he knew he wanted to be yours. You never treated him differently and cared enough to see past the bad reputation he had, you cared about him. He got used to your nature but oftentimes forgot about how important stability can be, you weren’t teenagers anymore and sooner or later you would get tired. He had all the intentions, but just like you, the fear of not being enough held him back.

You were scared of being replaced and he was scared to hurt you.

“What are we watching?” You sat by his side and crossed your legs. You were now wearing a hoodie with the team logo and signature claw scratches, sweatpants and your hair was tied in a high ponytail.

“I couldn’t pick one, so you choose.” He passed you the remote and laid back on the couch. You ended up watching Bride Wars, the two of you had terrible taste in movies so you alway went for the safe options, and you always ended up chatting halfway through and not paying attention to the film.

“She deserves better than Fletcher anyway.” Atsumu played with your hair as the movie credits appeared on the screen, your back was on his chest raising slightly with his steady breathing.

“She really did, she settled because she felt pressured.” You held his hand and interlocked his fingers with yours.

“What do you mean?” He looked down at your hands now connected and smiled to himself.

“When you spend that many years with someone you think the only reasonable thing is to stay forever with them, and sometimes that’s not what you want, but that realization comes really late, look at her, she was about to get married when she came to her senses, she was getting married because it was what everyone expected her to do, she had to convince herself she wanted it, that she wanted him.” You explained. “He made things hard for her, and still she tried to make it work for both of them, it wasn’t fair for her.” Atsumu hummed in agreement and noticed how your tone decreased with every word. You went silent for a while lost in your thoughts again.

“You’ve been acting weird since we left the restaurant. What 's going on?” He asked, shifting in his place trying to get a better look of your face, your eyes were glossy and your brows slightly furrowed.

“I don’t know.” You sighed heavily. “I’m scared.” You played with the strings of your hoodie. “I don’t want to feel like someone just settled for me again.” You continued, fighting the memories from last year when you felt his arms tightening around you. “I don’t want to go through that again, I got so used to giving more than I could, to trying to do my best and beyond and still that wasn’t enough, I wasn’t enough.” You weren’t crying, there was nothing to cry about in the first place, you were just tired of battling your inner thoughts, you wanted a break.

“Don’t say that, your ex was an idiot for letting you go. Y/N, you are the most caring and dedicated person I’ve ever met, if anything, you were the one who settled for someone who couldn’t give his everything for you.” He felt the vibrations of your body as you chuckled.

“Yeah, my friends always tell me that.” He kissed your temple gently.

“See? He was just a scrub.” ‘And I would treat you so much better.’

“Sorry I got too emotional.” You looked up and he placed another kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t apologize for having feelings, it’s normal.” You raised an eyebrow and tried to break free from his embrace to rest your chin on his chest. “What?” He asked.

“I never expected you to say something like that, you are very wary of showing your feelings.” You pointed out, running a hand through his blonde hair and he poked your side making you laugh, it was your turn to peck his chin. You enjoyed the comfortable silence that set between you two, propping your head on his chest close enough to hear his heart beating, eyes closed in bliss. You were safe.

“I’m sorry for being too slow.” He said. “I think it’s obvious I like you, and while I enjoy what we have now, you deserve clarity and I need to get this out of my chest.” He made you sit correctly, you lightly stretched your limbs as you got up. Atsumu took your hand and played with your fingers trying to word his thoughts. “I’m scared too. I’ve never been in a relationship and I didn’t know how to talk to you about this, I thought maybe you weren’t looking for something serious, especially with me, you know? But I like to think we are on the same page now.” You nodded and he continued. “Give me a few days, let me make it special for you to see I’m serious about this, and that I want to treat you better, please.” His eyes finally met yours.

“Take all the time you need, ‘Tsumu, I think I need some time too and I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything.”

“You are not, stop saying that. I want this.” He grumbled frustrated.

“Me too.” You kissed the back of his hand and he hugged you again. You watched another silly rom-com and talked about the party a little more before Atsumu received a call from his building’s management to notify him that the power was restored, it was around 7 p.m. so he got ready to leave, with his keys in one hand and his phone in his pocket he walked to the door with you following behind. “I’ll see you at the party then.”

“That’s a lot of time.” He complained.

“Stop whining, it’s just two weeks.” You scrunched your nose when he bent down to kiss it.

“I’ll call you everyday if I can’t see you.” He smirked.

“Please do.” You rolled your eyes. He puckered his lips, waiting for his mandatory goodbye kiss but you took the chance to pinch his lips with your fingers making him instantly step back. “Good night, ‘Tsumu.” You said before he could say anything and closed your door. A muffled ‘That’s not fair.’ could be heard from the other side, Atsumu stared at your door, he tensed his jaw and shook his head for a second. He couldn’t hide the lovesick grin adorning his face as he walked to his car.

He had two very long weeks ahead.

(a/n: uh hELLO, this chapter ruined all my planning but i think those two are really cute, now QUICK QUESTION, would you like to see what iwaizumi aka mr. cheater is up to??? maybe?? no??? you guys tell me! i have the wip but idk if y’all would like to see it, i’ll be reading y’all. anyways, remember the fic has a playlist and y’all can check it out, also if you have song recs to add i would love to hear them!! i hope everyone is healthy and doing great at school or work :)) please stay safe and wear your masks!!)

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#Miya Atsumu #atsumu x you #atsumu x reader #atsumu scenarios #msby atsumu #iwaizumi x reader #Iwaizumi Hajime #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi angst #iwaizumi x you #hq angst #msby black jackal #msby bj #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!

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morihaus · 3 years

Text

Betrayal

Waves splash against the rocky shores of Betony as a small ship rows into port. The docks of Whitefort town are quiet in the dying light of the evening, busied only by sailors and dockworkers as they fix ships to the moorings and ferry cargo about, hurrying to get their work over with so they might retire for the night. There are few people, and of them, the lone passenger of the sailboat blends into the crowd, steel boots stepping onto the dock, cowl held close around her head.

She keeps her head down, not attracting any attention as she takes a circuitous path around the shipyard, pausing only to spare a glance over her shoulder every now and then. It's not her first time here, and she knows where she is going- the grand Imperial ship affixed to the far dock lies foreboding in the corner of her vision- but even miles from the mainland of High Rock or Hammerfell, she feels eyes all over her, grasping hands reaching out for her. She's walking into a pair of them right now.

It's with this note of fatalism that she climbs aboard the Imperial galley, its captain waits for her at a table on the deck, seated warmly in her fine Skyrim furs. Lady Brisienna Magnessen smiles cordially, cheeks rosy, but not bothered by the winter chill as her visitor is, letting her fair hair curl down her shoulders without hat or hood.

"Agent Delarda," She greets her with a refined tone, coarse Nordic tongue dipped in honey, smoothed and shaped to suit the needs of an inter-provincial operative. "Please, take a seat. Let's conclude this as quickly as possible."

Against her better judgement, the agent sits down. Her amber eyes, sitting in dark circles, peer out at the Nord from under her hood. "They know." She says flatly, her voice quiet and weak for the first words she's spoken in days. "Gothryd, Eadwyre, Athoriki, Gortwog-" She slings her pack down one shoulder and reaches inside, producing several written correspondences. She sets them on the table in front of her, unsealed, slightly crumpled. She looks down at them now, rather than Brisienna. "Even Mannimarco, and the Underking. They know, and they want it. They're making offers now. I'm not sure how long they'll wait for me to make up my mind."

Brisienna takes a letter into her deft hands, unfurling it and scanning it over.

Arduirel- code name Delarda- lets her hands lie limp on the table, numb with cold and nerves.

After a minute or so, the Lady speaks up. "They're making quite the hefty offers for it."

"You believe them?" Arduirel says.

Brisienna looks half-insulted. "No," She shakes her head. "I wouldn't be surprised if any or all of them were lying. All that gold, those artifacts, nothing but bait."

"Should I assume the Emperor was lying as well?" She says curtly, still not meeting her eye.

Brisienna purses her lips some, but reaches over into her own pack, producing a small jewelry box. She places it on the table, turning it to her fellow agent. "The Warlock's Ring, as promised. Feel free to check. I wouldn't lie to you."

Arduirel's ears burn under her hood at that. Still, she reaches forward, unlatching the tiny chest and taking a peek at the ring inside. Gold-banded, covered in ancient runes, inlaid with a dazzling red gemstone. She closes it, satisfied with its authenticity, more or less. She looks back up at Lady Magnessen, who peers expectantly at the elf.

"The Emperor has been planning this reward for some time, Delarda. Your efforts, both here and in years previous, are greatly appreciated." For a moment Arduirel looks and only sees a mouthpiece, a puppet; she wonders whether Uriel said any such thing, whether these words were really his, or mere lip service from the Nord woman. She's sick to her stomach either way, not helped by the gentle rocking of the boat in the harbor.

"...I'm curious. What would the other rulers have done with... the Totem." She asks, quite aware of the fact she's expected to be taking it out by now. She doesn't want to touch it, to let it be seen by anyone. Her whole body feels wired, jittery, as though the other agent were about to make a desperate lunge for her pack.

It doesn't come to pass, though, Lady Magnessen remains seated, glancing down once again at the letters on the table. "Nothing good." She shuffles them around, laying one on top of the other, leafing through the names on the pages and thinking on what she knows of the Illiac's politics. "No doubt Daggerfall, Wayrest, and Sentinel would use the Numidium in their petty war games. Perhaps they would even realize the extent of its capabilities- they could undermine the whole of the Empire with this power." Arduirel feels a chill as she speaks. She wonders what Brisienna knows about Numidium. How much does the Emperor know about Numidium? The Nord frowns as she continues to speculate. "Orsinium would no doubt crush its age-old enemies, claim all of Wrothgar for the Orcs, maybe beyond. I cannot begin to wonder at what nefarious end the King of Worms has in mind... he claims he wants godhood?"

Arduirel gives a shallow nod.

Brisienna shakes her head. "By the Nine, what a travesty that would be..."

"Could that even work?"

"If what we are led to believe about big Numidium is true, it very well could. It could be as easy as it plucking him from this world and placing him high up in the heavens." There's an attempted humor to what she says, but Arduirel can only fight to keep up a veneer of composure.

"Is that what Tiber Septim did?" She blurts out.

Brisienna gives her a judgemental stare. "Is that... what? What are you talking about, Delarda?"

Arduirel clenches her fist, grinding her teeth together for a moment. "I just mean-" She looks out into the horizon, the now black sky meeting the edge of the water. "He became a Divine. He also used the Numidium. Is that related? Is Mannimarco trying to do what he did?"

Without looking, she feels the icy stare of her superior. She lets out a sigh. "Tiber Septim didn't become Talos through some... automaton. He was always Talos-" She trails off, shaking her head. "We can discuss theology when you're back in Cyrodiil, Delarda. You have the Totem, don't you?"

"Yes." She quickly replies.

"Where is it?"

Arduirel looks back at her. Brisienna's face is creased with irritation- she knows a diversion tactic when she sees it, she's starting to wise up to what's going on here.

"What is the Emperor going to do with it?" Arduirel asks.

Brisienna pauses. Arduirel stares and picks her apart with her eyes, trying to figure out what she knows. "That's none of your concern, agent." She replies with a blunt, forceful tone. "Just know that he's the only one who can be trusted with it. These petty kings will rip each other- and the Empire- apart in their bickering, and those undead sorcerers will only do the same. This thing belongs in the hands of an Emperor, a Septim, not some pack of quarreling insubordinates."

Her words hang in the air, burning against Arduirel's ears like the cold night air. Her hands begin to shiver. "The last Septim who got his hands on it..." She furrows her brow, glaring from under her hood at the Nord. "The Underking, he's Zurin Arctus, Tiber Septim's battlemage. He claims to have made the thing- that the Mantella is his heart, and that Septim used the thing to conquer all of Tamriel, to destroy all his opponents, to replace all royals with those who would swear loyalty to him." Brisienna tries to get a word in, but Arduirel plows on ahead. "And when he disagreed with this use of the Numidium, Septim fought with him, and both he and his creation were destroyed." She produces another letter from her person, one she hadn't intended on sharing. "This says that the Blades have been gathering parts of the Numidium for centuries- what is the meaning of this??? To what end does it serve???"

Brisienna leans in with a dour expression. "You take the word of a rotting, undead wizard over mine? Over the word of the Emperor?"

Arduirel stands up with a start, frost crackles in her palm as she glares down at the Nord, who reaches for her blade. "What is he planning!? Why reassemble it?! Why use it now??"

"Delarda, stand down!" Brisienna barks out the order with her sword leveled in the elf's direction. "Think for a second! If you don't relinquish the Totem, you'll be branded as a traitor to the Empire of Tamriel- you'll have one more agency hunting you down, is that what you want!?"

"I am NOT giving you the Totem! I won't let this happen again!" Before Brisienna can even question her, Arduirel shoots an ice spike into her chest. She staggers back as it pierces a rib, she wheels back her sword-arm before another spike finds its way into the hinge of her elbow, icing the joint over and sinking deep into her tissue. She cries out in pain before Arduirel charges into her, bashing her off the side of the ship with a forceful elbow to her collar.

The Nord falls into the icy water, right arm stiff and inflexible, lungs pierced by a spike through her ribs. She cries out at Arduirel- "YOU CANNOT DO THIS!" But a torrent of frost is already firing down at her, freezing the water she's fighting against, encasing her in a thick sheet of ice. Her body temperature drops rapidly, she trembles and struggles as her muscles grow stiff and weak.

The small block of ice containing her body floats out into sea. The Agent absconds with the Warlock's Ring and the Totem, forcing her way through the confused crowd and boarding someone else's ship, pushing it out to sea with the force of her magic, arrows from the guards loosing in her wake as they piece together that she had something to do with this.

It doesn't matter. The Emperor will not get the Totem. As soon as she's out of sight from the isle, she makes course for the east, for Hammerfell, as a traitor to the Empire. Her true colors are finally revealed. It's exhilarating. It's sickening. It's the only way to avoid another Summurset.

#tesfest21 #mori writing #oc: arduirel #cw for murder and death

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jtrbluv · 4 years

Text

hell-ish | pjm

summary: can be read as a separate oneshot or a continuation of ‘we’re not really strangers’“

“But do you remember when we went on a field trip to that amusement park in 8th grade? Around halloween time? … Yeah, I think that’s the moment I pretty much fell in love with you.“

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, humor, establisedrelationship!au

word count: 7.7k+

warnings: profanity (they are beyond terrified), inaccurate depictions of amusement park shenanigans, neurotic clowns (but they’re acting)

A/N: IM SO SRY ITS LITERALLY NOT EVEN HALLOWEEN ANYMORE GOODBYE DD; in my defense they typically have these typa things open after halloween ends... miss rona just isn’t allowing it this year ofc ;w; a special thanks to @viopera , @koushiningg, and @bangtans-peaceful-piegon for letting me use their likeness, i love u all. and i hope you enjoy this late halloween fic right before thanksgiving break!

The car rolls to a smooth stop. The man in the driver’s seat puts the car into park—turning towards you while placing a reassuring hand on your thigh.

“Hey,” he says, a small close-lipped grin painting across his features, “you excited?”

You reposition in your seat so you can face him, or more specifically, your best-friend-turned-lover—the sight of him smiling causes you to elicit one of your own, your nerves slightly subsiding.

“I am actually,” you admit, “how long has it been? Six? Seven years?”

“Around there I think, but we should probably get going. The lines are probably going to be stupid long like always,” he suggests, his hand leaving your thigh only to ruffle the hair on top of your head, "Here's to new memories Y/N."

You step out onto the pavement—the crisp, cold night air nipping at your cheeks and nose. The cooler temperature serving as a reminder that winter was yet to come and autumn was about to come to a close. You form an O-shape with your mouth, exhaling sharply and seeing your own breath swirling and blending into the air around you.

Footsteps approach you from the side as you shut the car door. Your head whips around to see Jimin walking towards you with a dopey grin plastered on his face. In response, your eyes playfully loll back, a stream of air huffing out of your nose.

You shift your focus back towards in front of you, eyeing the roller coaster that intimidatingly loomed beyond the fence of the park, the drop tower that appeared just as high, and the other neighboring attractions that towered significantly enough to be seen from afar. The whole stretch of the park emitted a red glow, from what you could assume was from the large-scale lighting and technology that was spread out across the expanse.

A soft hand slides its way from your forearm down to your palm, intertwining all in one smooth motion. It was warm and comforting much unlike your frozen, almost entirely numb ones.

“Someone’s a little cold aren’t they,” he teases, using his other hand to attempt to rub more warmth into yours.

“You know my hands are chronically cold,” you pointedly whine, causing small clouds of air to shoot out of his mouth and nose due to his laughter.

He locks the car and you two begin making your way towards the entrance—from what seemed like a mile, in reality, was only a block away. There was practically no gap in between the two of you the entire time, taking advantage of each other’s body heat amidst the numbingly cold weather.

The wait wasn't too shabby, but you knew it was because time always seemed to pass by so much faster when you were with him, most of the pastime consisting of talking about how your past week has been, the fuckton of assignments you two had gotten, and the dangerously high intakes of caffeine you two had consumed as per usual.

The conversation ceased after a while, and it was just the two of you pressed side to side in comfortable silence, hands still intertwined. It was interesting to see such a vast variety of ages all around you—the most common age range were teenagers or people of the same age as the two of you, which wasn’t a surprise. After getting past the ticket booth and security check, you

two finally make it inside.

The first thing you notice is the large, antique carousel that hadn’t changed in the tiniest bit since the last time you were here.

The meticulously decorated entrance—brought to life by the fire torches, heavy-duty fog machines that didn't allow one to see after 10 feet ahead of them, bright lights that were replaced by either no lights at all or a faint red tint, and just the whole ambiance—had greatly juxtaposed the simplicity and familiarity of the carousel that stood in the eye of it all.

The heat of the fire torches allow you to regain some warmth back into your body—you create a small gap in between you and Jimin, in which he pouts and lifts your intertwined hands up to his face, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand.

“So, where do you wanna go first?” He asks, swinging your arm back and forth after passing through the gates.

“I’m fine with whatever,” you enunciate a bit loudly, the usual noises of amusement park shenanigans hindering your hearing.

“You sure about that?”

You click your tongue, “Jimin please, I’m a college student now, not a puny 8th grader anymore,” you argue, watching him turn away as he tries to stifle his laughter, “I swear!”

“Alright! Alright! I’ll believe you,” he eventually caves, frantically waving his hand to dismiss your concerns, “But I won’t believe you until I see it.”

“Oh, so we’re gonna play that game huh,” you retort, brows furrowing as a smirk creeps across your face, “Alright, so what do you think about riding that?” You ask innocently, motioning up towards the drop tower that forced one to crane their neck all the way back just to see the top.

You break your focus as you look back down and turn towards him to gauge his reaction. His jaw dropping down to his knees—eyes widened in complete bafflement and horror.

“Y/N. I am literally going to fucking die if I ride that shit. Oh my god.”

“What do you mean? It’s totally safe! I’ve been on it so many times.” You attempt to console him, knowing it’s futile because of the piercing glare he gives you right after you say that.

“And that’s supposed to make it better how?!"

You soothingly rub the back of his hand in an attempt to ease his nerves, “Of course I won’t push you if you don’t want to, you know.”

He sighs, “Well, now you’re just making me sound like a puny 8th grader.”

“I can assure you that you very much, are not Chim.” And he smirks at that, tightening his grip on your hand, making you wish that you didn't give him that ego boost in the first place because he surely didn’t need any more of that.

You take some time to mull over your options, but instead, go with whatever your gut feeling was initially leaning towards, “Okay, so what if every time you take me to a house, I have to take you on a ride. You get to choose the house and I get to choose the ride.”

He nods in acknowledgment, “I’m listening.”

“Does that sound valid?” You inquire.

He bites on his bottom lip, taking a moment to quickly cogitate between the options you had given him, and at last, he nods, "It sounds like a win-win."

"Or a lose-lose." You chuckle, and he mirrors.

He shakes his head, “I know you like rollercoasters and all that scary shit, but there’s also a ton of stuff that they’ve added since we’ve last been here.” He replies, thinking out loud, while making you feel more content with your decision, “You got a deal ma’am.” He affirms at last—releasing his grip to offer you his hand to seal the deal, in which you confirm resolutely by shaking it.

Just like he said, the amusement park most definitely stepped up their game ever since you both were middle schoolers, navigating the large expanse with a bunch of other measly and equally puny peers.

The deeper you two make your way into the park, the more themed attractions lined the path. At this point, you could barely make out the bottom half of your legs due to the thickness of the fog. Actors were running around left and right—faces decorated with FX makeup that you could barely discern because of the dim lighting—effectively scaring others, clear by the amount of ear-splitting shrieks you've heard in the past ten minutes that was enough to make your eardrums burst.

Jimin takes note of your slight tenseness. He wasn't oblivious and he knew that you were trying to feign nonchalance—but the razor-tight grip on his hand and lack of chatter on your end was saying otherwise. But just like everything you do, he thought it was cute anyway.

He promptly squeezes your hand, making you turn to face him, "Do you want the first pick?"

You hum, "You can have it if you want."

"Are you sure?"

"Yess," you drag out exasperatedly, "how many times do I have to tell you that I'll be perf– !" You abruptly halt as a zombie (that very much isn't real is what you keep reminding yourself) whizzes past you, brushing against your shoulder and making you jump and trip over your own two feet.

The man beside you is quick to react—leaping in front of you with his arms out so you could fall into his grasp. And you do, gripping his arms to better steady yourself and stand up. As you attempt to straighten yourself out, your head sinks into his chest, laughter erupting out of the two of you to the point where his knees almost give out.

You detach yourself from his chest, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes from laughing so goddamn much. Finally regaining your poise, you immediately slip your fingers back in between his. He cards a hand through his locks with his remaining hand while taking deep breaths.

While tugging him away from where you two were standing to avoid another ruckus... granted that you were at a haunted amusement park, you shout into foggy air, "I'm fine, I'll be fine Jimin! Let's go!", hoping that maybe if you spoke it out into the world, you could manifest it into being true.

Well, weren’t you wrong.

A rare and near impossible feat is what you were able to accomplish: forcing Jimin to make a decision. Despite him already being a trademark libra, you always believed that one of his most standout and consistent libra-esque traits was the fact that he was so indecisive. To which had resulted in him forcing you to make decisions instead of him most of the time, whether they had been trivial or not.

The moment you realized that this "feat" wasn’t much of a feat, after all, was when you two had finally reached the entrance of the first haunted attraction he had chosen, his impulsive and most likely ulterior-motivated driven decision causing you to retract all preceding moments in which where you were being stubborn and indignant in him making the first pick.

Just your luck, his explanation behind his decision (and your almost near-death experience) is that he says and you quote, “Start off with a bang! We get the worst over with now so it’s all smooth sailing for the rest of the night. Trust me.”

For some context, you had a very rational fear of clowns. The year of 2016 was already bad enough as it was—a time in which you had gotten out of your first serious relationship, afterward giving yourself the most horrendous haircut in your entire life because you were emotionally strung and the scissors… well they just happened to be within an arm’s reach.

Later on in said year when you had become a junior and assignments had been piling up higher and higher without any shits given whatsoever, your minuscule fear of clowns had been blown out of all proportions—ultimately fueled by the number of clown sightings around your town and one altercation that you still think about until this day. Four years later, you can still vividly recall the time where you were coming home after studying all day at the local library and on the other side of the street, you had spotted a clown—feet planted to the cement sidewalk, body immobile besides their head that would keep its focus on you as you continuously made your way down the street. As you began to quicken up your pace, the clown began to reciprocate your actions from across the way, and you came to the conclusion that you didn’t really wanna die that night so you sprinted the entire rest of the way home.

And here you two were, at the front of the line standing behind the black curtain entrance—next to a rugged wood sign with the words, CLOWNEUROTICS, inscribed with a dripping, rich red liquid which you surmise was fake blood and not Kool-Aid.

“I cannot believe I let you have the first pick and you do this to me” You quip, chewing the chapped skin of your lips, breath shallow and bated.

“Y/N, you’ll be just fine. I’ll be here right beside you, remember?” he assures you once more, giving you another tight squeeze on your hand.

The curtains swish open, the employee in a simple all-black ensemble motioning the two of you to come inside. You close your eyes, taking one deep and steady inhale before stepping in.

You can barely make out your surroundings, let alone Jimin, who was standing right beside you. The worker’s voice hollers over the deafening noises of the tent. “Follow the path, don’t go backwards, or else you'll hold up the line. And you see that green light?” He asks while pointing to the tiny green bulb that was down the hallway in front of you, “Take a right from there.”

Jimin replies, knowing that you’re too fear-stricken to form coherent sentences at the moment, “Alright, thanks.”

The man nods, and Jimin tugs on your hand as he begins to walk forward. You follow closely behind, reminding yourself to take breaths before you flat out lose consciousness.

As you reach the end of the hallway and the green light bulb the man mentioned, Jimin pauses and turns around to stand in front of you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, I know you hate my guts right now, but I’m sorry in advance and just know that I love you, okay? You have full permission to torture me after this.” He reassures with a wide grin.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” you grumble, lips downturned and head hanging low.

You feel his soft lips graze over your cheek, leaving a chaste peck before giving you an airy, irresistible smile that you can’t really help but relent, even though it already feels like your heart is about to implode on itself.

Taking a right, the setting of the attraction comes into periphery. White walls and floors—reminiscent of a hospital, are tainted with blood, a disarray of medical equipment, and severed body parts. You take notice of the vacant hospital beds, sheets crumpled and stained with red. Framed pictures of medical staff were hanging by loose nails, glass shattered, bloody splatters and smears all over the frames, walls, and white tile.

You two reach a doorway, next to one of the hinges was a sign that clearly said, Psychiatric Ward. Well, I guess that explains the neurotics part.

In an attempt to swallow down some of the fear in your throat, you tighten your grip on Jimin’s hand while opting to slither your remaining hand around his bicep.

He takes notice of your actions that were propelled by your increasing fear, and naturally, he can’t help but feel bad, “Hey, you know I’d never let anything happen to you.” He tells you, shaking you out of your slight daze, “You can hold onto me the whole time and stick your head in my shoulder just like you did years ago, I won’t mind,” he teases while booping your nose.

“Alright, let’s just get this over with, please.” You huff out, determined to somehow put on maybe not a brave, but a braver face than what he expects from you.

You manage to fail in a whopping, record-breaking, ten seconds of going inside.

The first jumpscare was so entirely predictable—the thunderous pounds against the wall, the trudging and supposedly neurotic clowns (although clowns are already neurotic enough as they are) had all built up suspense until a head of a clown had shot up from around the corner. Their usual clown features distorted with gashes in their skin and blood dribbling out of the corners of their mouth, clothes ripped and stained. Your entire body violently spasms, a shrill shriek, and an embarrassingly long string of curses leave your lips in a matter of mere seconds.

You don’t even notice the man you’re holding onto folding over in laughter because the clown is still very much still following you even after you turn the corner, but before you can recalibrate and trek forward another clown materializes just sparse inches at your side. Your entire body forcefully jerks back, knocking into Jimin, but the force doesn’t phase him in the slightest as he swiftly brings his arms around your frame to prevent you from falling back.

Next to you, the man’s laughter hasn’t ceased a bit the entire time, and as you quickly dash forward and away from the clowns that you oh-so-wanted to knock a tooth out of, while clinging onto his side, he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “Hanging in there?”

“I think I’m gonna murder you before I murder any of these clowns.”

“Noted!” he chimes while playfully bumping his head into yours.

As you two turn another corner, the sight of more clowns banging against vacant windows on either side of you has you wincing, and you could swear you could feel your left eye start to involuntarily twitch. You come to the indubitable realization that amidst dozens of clowns, you are evidently the biggest one here.

The sounds that blaringly elicit from your lips are the nearing equivalent to keyboard smashes with a variety of curse words in between. In short, if you had a swear jar, you’d be practically penniless at this point.

The clowns are quick to take note of your cowardly conduct, using it to their advantage and targeting you specifically—reaching and intruding so eerily close that you’re almost convinced that they’re actually touching you. You cower in their presence, squirming and sinking deeper and deeper into Jimin’s hold as you make your way down the path.

Beads of cold sweat began to assert their own path down your forehead—heart ricocheting against the walls of your chest, straining the cords of your throat because of your never-ending shouts and shrieks of terror upon terror. Your whole body was convulsing and shivering without fault, even when accompanied by the body heat of the man next to you, the harsh lighting of the overhead lights, and the lack of ventilation in this shoddy tent proved to be no match against your bodily functions that were going completely haywire. If you were an Amazon package, you would have a large ‘Caution: Handle With Care’ sign slapped right onto the box.

The pea-sized amount of pride that remains within you is the only thing stopping you from completely losing your shit.

Jimin's laughter—airy and unwavering, tickling the shell of your ear was the only thing keeping you grounded, serving as a constant reminder that at the very least when you might have lost all your pride and composure, you still had him by your side.

Without much forethought, he continues to lay kisses along your temple, clutching you close to his chest and keeping you upright as your knees constantly buckled under the weight of your looming fear, crumbling composure, and the grisly clowns that were most definitely preying on your downfall.

The ten-minute duration—which to you, had felt like a whole lifetime-and-a-half had finally come to a close. Once you were able to discern what you thought was the exit of the tent—the small opening leading to what had looked like signs of civilization, you booked it without hesitation, hastily tugging Jimin with you to the point where he nearly tramples over his own feet and crashes to the floor due to the sheer and sudden force.

You two finally pass through the exit. Feeling as if you had just ran a timed mile in five minutes, your body caves immediately—hunching over, briskly bringing your hands to your knees to support your deteriorating physiological state. The sound of your heavy breathing gets disrupted by Jimin’s laughter. You stand up, straightening yourself out when you realize that other people were starting to make their way towards the exit too, and you two were clearly blocking the way out.

Jimin takes you by the wrist and swiftly pulls you aside as more people start to trickle out of the tent. You two lean against the metal fence, comfortably silent as he lets you catch your breath.

You huff out, taking deep exhales as you speak, "Holy fuck, what even was that?"

"The funniest thing I have ever seen," he shoots back with a smile, slightly breathless as well.

You blink rapidly, body slumping against the fence, still completely cynical and disbelieving in what you had experienced. Biting the inside of your cheek so hard you're pretty sure you left teeth marks, you wipe your sweat with the hem of your sleeve.

"You okay?" he asks softly, closing the gap in between the two of you.

You nod, affirming your composure in hopes that it would solidify it for real. Giving him a smile to ease the nerves you knew he had, you visibly saw his smile widen, and with that, you ruffle his hair, take his hand into your own, and walk a few steps forward before announcing brazenly into the chilly autumn wind,

"Drop zone time."

"Y/N PLEASE—!"

"Don't do this, anything else but this please." He pleads, lips jutting out while childishly tugging on your sleeve.

You groan, "Bub, we had a deal."

He presses his lip together, "I know... but just look at that! How does that even look remotely safe enough for one to ride?" He tries to reason with you, staring up at the attraction that he believes should not even be labeled as an 'attraction' in the first place.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head, "If it was that much of a safety hazard, it wouldn't even exist Chim."

"I will never understand why people ride this out of enjoyment and pleasure. This is insane," he says, his eyes trailing to the long line of people behind the two of you.

"It's three seconds, I swear. Three seconds compared to my ten minutes of cussing and wanting to punch a clown in the face is very reasonable in my opinion. You’ll be just fine, I’ll hold your hand the whole time," you add on.

He quietly freezes in place—eyes fixated on the tower, hands leaving the fabric of your sweater. You feel his warm hand come in contact with yours, the back of his hand grazing your knuckles. Lacing your fingers in between his, he meets your eyes, giving you a timid, lopsided grin. A silent affirmation that had said more than words could’ve. I trust you but I’m still scared shitless.

“You guys are next,” the worker announces, opening the gate and gesturing you two to come inside. Jimin’s smile dissipates, face contorting into a look of mortification at the man’s words—eyes widening to the size of what would be considered as utter shock and lips curling into a form of disgust.

Tugging lightly at his hand, he whips his head towards you, waiting to speak until you two have passed the gate, “Y/N, I’m literally gonna piss my pants like I’m not even joking.”

“Jimin!” you say in a hushed yell, “Please don’t, I know your pride is too precious to you for you to annihilate it by pissing on a ride that even kids go on.”

He scoffs, “Okay fine… but we’re getting churros after this.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, smiling at his tone, “Why would I argue against churros?”

“Hello, miss? Come this way, please,” another worker greets, leading the two of you to two vacant spots of the ride where you presume were going to be yours.

You nod, making your way towards the two seats, hearing Jimin splutter incoherent words and sounds from behind your shoulder.

He immediately plops into the innermost spot, refusing to be on the outermost seat that only had one accompanying seat on one side, albeit it truly didn’t matter. And of course, you don’t tell him that.

Smiling at his overt signs of apprehension, you slide into the spot next to him, beginning to put on the seatbelt over your lap.

Drumming his fingers on his knees, he already has his seatbelt buckled and his over-the-shoulder restraints locked and secured into place.

“Ugh, can these things go any tighter! I can still move under here,” he tuts, vigorously trying to push the restraints closer to his body, yet his attempts are proven to be in vain.

“Bub, they still want you to be able to breathe,�� you remind him with a small giggle, your head popping out of the U-shaped bar to look over at him—his brows knit in concentration, nose scrunched, lips tucked into his mouth.

In a final attempt, you hear the man beside you take a sharp and deep inhale, only to hear a tiny click emit from the restraint shortly afterward.

He releases his bated breath, only to come to the realization that he can’t extend his stomach all the way forward, the bar forcing it to come short. He splutters, bringing his hand to cover his face while he coughs only to realize that his arm can’t fully reach around the bar to meet his face.

You watch this entire scene unfold out in front of you—wishing you could do something to help the poor guy, but you already knew your attempts would be pointless in the end as your arms are physically incapable of extending that far. You sink back into your seat to make sure he doesn’t see the fact that you were trying so hard not to laugh.

“Jimin, deep breaths, in and out,” you instruct him as the worker starts to make their rounds around the ride, double-checking for seatbelts and secured restraints.

“Y/N, that’s the problem, I can’t.”

“Try scooting back into your seat,” the worker suggests to Jimin, giving him an empathetic smile.

“What do you mean–oh, erm, thank you.”

She nods, shaking Jimin’s restraint a little more energetically to reassure the man of his safety.

As she leaves, he says to you, “Y/N, I can’t believe you convinced me to go on this.”

“Me too, honestly. I’m really proud of you Chim.” You admit, reaching out a hand towards him in which he takes.

“Three seconds, right?” He reiterates.

“Give or take, yeah.”

“Y/N—!”

Your seats suddenly clatter, signaling the start of your long ascent. Jimin’s grip on your hand tightens substantially, causing you to groan out in pain.

He quickly takes note of the noise, loosening his grip ever so slightly, “Oh my god, sor- oh fucking hell, there’s no going back now?!”

You chomp down on your bottom lip before another sound could escape your mouth—his grip on your hand tightening the higher you two go, “No, no you’re fine, it’s okay..”

“HOLY SHIT WHY ARE WE ALREADY THIS HIGH UP?!” He yelps, kicking his feet against the air—people’s heads starting to look as small as ants, the rest of the park coming into view as if you were experiencing it from a drone’s point of view.

“Dumbass, don’t look down!”

“It’s too late–what the hell, why can I see the whole damn city from here?!” He sticks his head out of his restraint, looking up and trying to find the top, “wHen the FUCK does this shit stop please, Y/N, I cAn’T do this?!?!”

“Chim. Breathe. Deep, steady breaths, okay?” You say while audibly taking breaths so he can do the same.

“Okay, okay,” he says, voice cracking but following suit.

After you think that he finally manages to get a grip on himself, you decide to try to take his mind off the situation at hand, “Jimin, look at the view.”

His breath softens as he begins to take in his surroundings. He could see everything. To him, it feels as if he had the city in the palm of his hand. The rollercoasters that reside next to the tower were practically reaching eye-level to him, and despite the lack of color due to the theme of the park, he thought it was mesmerizing anyway. He marvels at the fact that he could even see past the park—catching a glimpse of the cars zooming on the main highway, minute specks of light emitting from the windows of skyscrapers, people living in their own little worlds in each one, And of course, the envy of it all, the night sky—the dark depth littered with a multitude of stars in their own little patterns and worlds of their own as well.

The overhead speakers trumpet, ripping Jimin out of his trance-like state, “Welcome to the drop zone brave newcomers. I hope you’ve had an enjoyable trip on the way up here. And I hope that your descent is just as enjoyable as well. We will be dropping in... “

Jimin heaves out, “Now that’s just plain rude at this point.”

“Ten.”

“Are you okay?”

He scoffs. “What kind of question is that Y/N?!”

“Nine.”

“Jimin, you’ll be just fine,” You reassure for the umpteenth time.

“I swear if this is longer than three seconds–”

“Eight.”

He frantically kicks the air. “Fucking hell! I can’t believe I’m doing this right now, I miss the ground.”

“Seven.”

“We’ll be back down to earth sooner than you think, I’m telling you.”

“Six.”

“Oh my fucking god, oh my fuck–!”

“Five.”

“Oh fuck, holy shit–!”

“Jimin, I’ll be right beside you–”

“Four.”

“–the whole way.”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD?!”

“Thre–!”

Before the countdown can finish, you two plummet, plunging down at great speeds—a feral-sounding squawk leaving Jimin’s lips when it all happens.

He squeezes his eyes shut, refusing to see what was going on—letting go of your hand, he opts to hold onto the other handlebar on the restraint instead. His breath is caught in his throat, the ride is moving so fast that he can’t even produce any noise, let alone move his body.

Just like you have been saying this whole night, the ride ends in a blink of an eye. Or more specifically, three seconds, give or take.

Jimin slumps in his seat—fingers still curled so tightly around the handlebars that his knuckles turn pale.

You stick your head out of your restraint, craning your neck to look at him beside you, “Jimin, it’s done, it’s over.”

“Are you sure?” He mumbles.

“Open your eyes.”

His head slowly rises, eyes remaining shut. Cracking one eye slightly open, he loosens his grip on the handlebars before opening his eyes and letting out a deep sigh of relief.

"That wasn't so bad, right?" You beam, waiting for the restraints to be lifted.

"I wouldn't know, I had my eyes closed the whole time," he shyly admits, lifting the restraint off of him and unbuckling his seatbelt.

You two jump out of your seats, heading towards the gate and bidding the drop tower goodbye, juxtaposing afterthoughts lingering in the air.

"That felt so weird, I don't know if I wasn't able to move or if there wasn't enough time for me to react," he chuckles dryly while twining his hand with yours once again.

You smile, "Probably a little bit of both," you suggest, eyes scanning the park for any signs of a churro stand, "but hey, you survived!"

He smiles at that, teeth out and all, "We both did," he assures earnestly, "and now as an incentive, we are getting churros."

Your eyes light up—the sight of the bright neon sign being the next destination of the night. Jimin notices your sudden reaction, quickly looking in the same direction as you and pinpointing the small churro stand from afar.

To your luck, the line isn't very long—people are most likely preoccupied with the multitude of attractions that are only going to be available for this appropriate time of the year, taking advantage of the opportunity before having to wait for an entire year before getting to experience it all over again. But you and Jimin weren't like most people, and you two strongly believed that churros should be indulged in at any time during any situation. And right now, it was being utilized as a form of consolation, just in the shape of a deep-fried pastry sprinkled with cinnamon sugar.

After obtaining your consolation desserts, you two resume your journey around the park. Too preoccupied indulging in your churro, you’re temporarily able to block out the commotion that was occurring around you, keeping four out of five senses focused on said churro and churro only.

“You feel better?” You ask, taking a brief moment to dust off all the cinnamon and sugar off the corners of your mouth.

“Mmhmph,” he incoherently mumbles, after shoving half a churro into his mouth. He abruptly pauses, cheeks puffed up and eyes wide, realizing he can’t talk and instead he nods with a grin as wide as his mouth would allow him to stretch out.

You giggle at his actions, taking your focus off of him to take another bite.

A few moments later, when most of your churros noticeably nowhere to be seen, you ask, “Where should we go next?”

He cinches his brows together, “We probably shouldn’t go on anything to extreme, considering we just ate. How about the ferris wheel?” He suggests, pointing to the attraction that was standing in front of the two of you.

You nod, “You’re right, these workers already go through enough. And we shouldn’t add cleaning vomit to the list.”

He chuckles, “Agreed. Let’s go, the line is pretty short!” He exclaims jubilantly, flashing you a mega-watt grin while pulling you along with him towards the gated entrance.

Leaning against the gate, you two wait for the round of riders that were currently riding to finish, mindlessly scrolling on your phones to pass the time.

The gate entrance opens, tearing your focus off of your phone and back to reality. The enormous and dazzling neon wheel that stood boldly enveloped your vision in replacement of your dim and dark-mode setted phone screen, making you blink a few times to adjust to its harsh hues.

One of the carts comes to a halt, doors releasing as the group of friends inside it begin to grab their belongings and head out. The worker in charge motions you to step inside after they leave, the two of you following suit. When you two become situated and seated, they press a few buttons on their control panel, the doors promptly swinging close. A few brief seconds after, the cart jolts before moving just enough so the other people behind you could board onto the next cart.

The carts reminded you of the teacup ride at Disneyland—built in a circular shape, seats lined around the border with a small gap made for the entrance door, but of course, it was void of steering wheels in the middle. Now that would just be a recipe for disaster, and a solid segue into Jimin vomiting all over you.

He nudges your leg, “It’s so funny to me.”

You turn to him, “What is?”

“Out of all things to do while being here, and we’re riding the ferris wheel,” he beams, a light chuckle leaving his lips, “I don’t know whether to pity us or not.”

“All my pride has left me already and I’m okay with it,” you tut, lips unwillingly curling upward as you replayed the scenes of what had happened earlier at the drop zone, “I wouldn’t talk too much if I were you Mr. ‘I’m gonna piss my pants.” You tease, poking him in the side.

He scoffs, squirming slightly where you poked him, “I am still proud of myself, I didn’t think I was gonna make it up there.”

You turn away, holding in your laughter, “I didn’t think you were either.”

“Hey! Don’t even get me started on you,” he says, nose scrunching and brows furrowing, “those poor clowns were about to get their noses punched in if it wasn’t for me being there. I think your screams and threats were starting to scare them more than they were scaring me.” He fires back, giggles erupting in his throat and interrupting his words.

“I’m not even gonna argue against that. We are so sad,” you say—laughter flaring up in your chest as well, the two of you keeling over so hard the cart begins to swing back and forth.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Easy there,” Jimin yelps as you two take notice of the movement and immediately cease your actions, hands grabbing the ends of the cart to try to stabilize it.

Just as your cart has moved up enough for you to start seeing an overhead view of the park, he whips his phone out before saying, “Lemme take a picture of you, the view is so nice here.”

As he whips out his phone, you scoot to the other end of the cart as he brings his phone up to his face and focuses it on you. Naturally, you bring your hand up, hand changing to a trademark peace sign as you flashed a smile for the camera. He brings his phone down many lock screen worthy pictures later, happy with the result evident from the grin etched onto his face.

“Your turn,” you say, motioning you two switch spots as you take your phone out of your pocket.

Jimin, infuriatingly photogenic, simply sits while staring off into the distance, jaw on full display as you begin to rapidly snap pictures. Hearing your camera clicks he changes his position—turning towards you as the chilly wind blows through his hair, eyes crinkling and dazzling smile on full display that you can’t help but smile at the familiar yet all too breathtaking sight.

Placing your phone in your lap, you scoot closer to him—leaning your back against his shoulder, you prop your legs up onto the seats. Turning towards you, he snakes his arms around your waist as his chest comes in contact with your back. You let yourself sink deeper into his grasp, conforming into his body as warmth spreads to your fingertips. Your head lulls back, falling into the space right below his collarbones as you stroke the back of his hands gingerly with the pad of your thumbs. He rests his chin on top of your head, the two of you simply admiring the view below.

The ride still hasn’t started—people still boarding the ride as the carts momentarily halt and move from time to time.

Not long after, your cart reaches the very top.

Head peering over the edge, he turns back, “See, why did we have to go on the drop tower when we could’ve went here instead,” he grumbles, the peak of the tower standing nearly just as tall as the highest point of the ferris wheel to the point where you could stare directly ahead of you without tilting your head.

“Well that takes all the fun out of it,” you tease, making him frown, “Hey! You keep forgetting what you made me go through before that. Don’t think I’ve gotten over it that quickly.”

Looking displeased at your answer, he quirks a brow, “You seemed to be fine when we were riding the tower.”

“What can I say, you make a very good distraction.”

“I think I could say the same for you,” he proposes, “I swear I saw some of those clowns turn away and start laughing every time you threatened them. I was like ‘Yes! That’s my feisty girlfriend!” he cheers, pumping his fists into the air. You cower down in embarrassment, grinning to yourself while trying to swat his arm away.

“I feel so burned out already though,” you say, head falling back into his chest, “I think it’s ‘cause we’re here at night.”

“And because you track-starred your way through that entire maze,” he adds.

“That too.”

“I feel it too, we did more walking than anything else to be honest.” He says, which is very much true. The drop tower was all the way on the other side of the park and the churro stand took you guys a whole twenty minutes just to find.

You hum, “Should we head out after this then?”

He rests his cheek on top of your head, “Yeah, if you want to.”

“I feel bad though, it feels like we just got here,” you admit, chuckling into his arm.

He shakes his head, hands reaching over to play with the ends of your hair, “Don’t feel bad, I think we’re still hungover because of midterms. And besides, I’m hungry and I don’t wanna eat a ten dollar hotdog after just eating a stale ten dollar churro.”

“Yeah, we can just eat one dollar ramen, we’re still college students above everything.”

And you truly couldn’t argue with that. “Of course.”

Taking your hands off of his, you prop a hand onto the cart to sit yourself up onto the seats. He releases his hold on you, his arms returning back to his sides as the warmth of your body dissipates to his dismay.

You adjust your sitting position so you could face him—reaching out to take one of his hands into your own. Your eyes bore into his, gazing into the pools of honey that were his irises. The view is slightly obscured as his eyes crinkle.

He smiles, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You don’t even register that he’s speaking to you until he leans in slightly, his features starting to appear bigger as he starts to close the gap between you two. You shake your head once he gets so close in proximity that you could see each crinkle that etches themself on the sides of his eyes each time he grins.

Your eyes flicker to his lips, taking notice of the action as you quickly revert back to his eyes. He smirks

“Thank you for taking me here,” you say as your eyes intently gaze into his once more, “above all the trepidation we’ve put each other through tonight, at least we’re here together.”

He nods, gratitude evident without him having to utter a single word. It’s as if time is frozen, everything around you stagnant and still, eyes boring into each other because nothing could just quite compare to this. Not even the surreal view of the city or the ability to see all the bustle within the amusement park or even the stars that littered the sky.

You press your lips against his. Although you initiated the action, the sensation of his lips against yours, regardless of how natural, sends a flurry of shockwaves down your spine. Your body tingles—as if you’re floating and the cart you were sitting on wasn’t even there to support you.

And he kisses you back. His lips are warm, welcoming, and comforting—like wrapping yourself in your favorite blanket in the comforts of your bed, the indescribable bliss as the fabric consumes your body and runs over your skin.

Kissing him felt even more blissful than that.

The kiss isn’t fervent, but it’s full of longing. It’s as if he’s communicating to you, through the way his lips mesh against yours, that he plans on making up for all the lost time. Time that could’ve been spent doing things like kissing you, loving you wholeheartedly and unashamedly, was spent pining for each other with the label of being ‘best friends’ standing in the way for far too long. He wants to make up for it just as much as you do.

He slides his hand under the crevice of your knee, pulling you closer to him as he continues to kiss you. You bring your hand up to his neck, entangling your fingers into his hair as you lightly scratched at the surface of his scalp.

He kisses you like he’ll never get to again, which isn’t completely false—the fact that you two were so high up in the air to the point where the stars look tangible, basking in each other’s presence and each other’s presence only.

Frustrated at the abnormal layout of the seating, he hooks his arms under your legs—hoisting you up and placing you in his lap so you were straddling him—incognizant of how the cart was starting to dip due to the unequal distribution of weight.

The gesture makes you squeak, and you can start to feel him smile against your lips. Before you could do anything else, the cart totters—rocking a few times before moving, signaling that the ferris wheel is finally beginning its journey.

“Oh fuck—!”

“Oh shit—!”

The two of you immediately detach from each other as you take notice of the unbalance, hurriedly leaping onto opposite sides of the cart while gripping onto the sides for dear life, the cart rocking back and forth at a concerning extent. You sneak glances at each other, your faces painted with the same expression of shock and distress.

Seconds pass and the cart steadies—laughter instantaneously taking over the two of you.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” he says, a little breathless while his body hunched over his seat.

“Remind me the next time we kiss to check if we’re less than a foot above the ground first,” you tease, playfully swatting his knee.

He grabs your hand, pressing a kiss onto your knuckles before shaking your intertwined hands up in the air—obnoxiously shouting into the frigid autumn wind, “Yes chief!”

MASTERLIST

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