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kaunis-sielu · 3 years

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Fire Dogs: 2

It’s been almost a week since Steve, Sam and Bucky came to fight the wildfires. You’ve got a routine down with the guys, and so does Cooper. You always have food ready for them when they leave and when they come home. Coffee is always ready for them when they leave and Cooper is waiting at the door for them when they get home.

Each man has taken huge comfort from your therapy dog, and he loves all the extra attention he’s getting from the three men. Cooper does force his way into each of their rooms at one time or another over the week and you’ve got a feeling that those won’t be the only time you’re alone on the couch.

Cooper had followed Steve into his room tonight and you’d gone to bed alone.

You wake as you’re being lifted. “What the hell?” You gasp with a start but you’re shushed softly, his scent fills your nose and you calm quickly.

“It’s me Fawn. I’m putting you to bed.” Steve says softly as he carries you up to your bedroom. “I’m gonna share a room with Buck, you can’t keep sleeping on the couch.”

“No, you’re fighting the fires. I’m just hanging out here.”

“And getting up at all hours to take care of us.” He argues as you try to get out of his grip. “Fawn, I’m not backing down from this one.” He says, his Alpha coming out as he tightens the hold he has on you, his face is close to yours, close enough for you to see the little flecks of green in those blue eyes of his. You sigh and loop an arm around his neck,

“Fine.” You grumble, you’ve heard the Alpha command in his voice, the voice that you literally can’t argue with. “But wouldn’t it make more sense for Sam and Bucky to share?”

“You’d think. If they have too much together time they get snippy. So I’ll just bounce between the two beds.”

“Are you sure?” You hope to change his mind but his face tells you that isn’t happening.

“Yes. You’ve opened your home to us, let us borrow your dog and taken care of us. You deserve your bedroom.” He says shoving open the door with his foot. He sets you gently on your feet and then gives you a soft smile. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He leaves and closes the door gently behind him. You climb into your bed and sigh softly, it is nice being back in your bed. Not that you’ll ever tell Steve that. It smells like him, it’s comforting and you fall asleep quickly.

You’re up a couple hours later, you pass a sleepy looking Steve in the hallway and a slightly confused Cooper. You head down the stairs and get some coffee going for Sam and pop the blueberry bagel he likes into the toaster. Then you move on to Bucky’s food. You take the plate you’d prepared the night before out of the fridge and peel off the cover. You turn the oven on warm and slide the plate in then go back up to bed and find Cooper sprawled out across it,

“Move over Coop.” You grumble as you climb back into bed. You’re asleep almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

The next time you wake it’s 8:30 and you’ve got to get food ready for Steve. You can hear him in the shower as you head back down to the kitchen. You like to make a full breakfast for the first meal to make sure that they don’t get hungry too quickly while they’re working. Today you’re planning on doing breakfast burritos, something that you can each assemble on your own. Steve comes down a half hour later, just as you’re wrapping up your own burrito.

“How did you sleep?” He asks reaching for a shell.

“Pretty good, Cooper is a bed hog.”

“I’ve noticed he likes to be almost on top of you when he sleeps with you.”

“Part of his training. The weight can help people with anxiety or stress and you all have such high stress jobs.”

“We really appreciate both of you. You sound like the best host from what we’ve heard from the other guys.”

“I’ve always been a caregiver so it’s nice having people to help. Even if I can’t help in the same way that you guys do.”

“Believe me, knowing that we can come home to a bed, good food, a kind soul and a therapy dog is more help than you’ll ever know.” You can’t help the smile that creeps onto your face,

“Good. Any requests for dinner tonight?”

“Something pasta?” He offers finishing off his breakfast.

“Okay.” You agree and hold a hand out for his plate.

“Thank you, for everything.” You nod as he stands up and heads for the door.

“Be safe.” You blurt before you can stop yourself.

“I will.” He says, a pleased scent rolls off of him before he heads out to work. Your conversation with him has given you an idea, but you’re going to need some help.

You get to calling other therapy dog handlers in the area. You know that it’s a big ask for them to come to the base of the mountain when it’s on fire but it’s for a good cause. You’ll set up with as many dogs for as many shifts as you can, every couple of days to give the dogs a bit of a break, the handlers too but mostly the dogs.

You’re able to get fifteen people in the area and you have two dogs per shift, even the 4 am shift. You’re able to rotate the dogs in a couple of shifts, so that no one is going too often and the dogs can get a little bit of a break.

You’re so excited that you’re able to do this for them, and you get to start today. You decide to head to basecamp to let Steve know. You want to make sure that the firefighters stop at Blots coffee shop before they head back to their homes tonight. You head toward base camp, it’s only a few miles up the mountain and park near one of the trails you know that skirts the forest. The smoke is worse here than it is near your house but it’s not terrible. You grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder then make your way up toward Pancho’s Bar where you know they run the fire fighting operation.

As you walk the air gets thicker with smoke, it’s not so bad that you can’t breathe but you can taste the smoke on every inhale. Before you get to Pancho’s you see Steve a little further down the street talking to two other firefighters. He seems so much bigger in all of his gear, as you make your way toward him he sees you and his brows furrow. He pushes past the other firefighters and makes his way to you with long strides.

“Fawn?”

“Hey,” you say and Steve looks, almost worried.

“Fawn, what are you doing up here? Is everything okay?”

“I’ve got a surprise for the firefighters. Down in town.” You tell him suppressing a cough, “I didn’t want anyone to miss it so I thought I’d come up.”

“Oh, hey Grey.” You have to stop yourself from frowning at Brock, he’s such a jerk and his smell is always so sour.

“Brock.” You say before you start to cough.

“C’mere,” Steve says pulling his face mask away from him you step closer and when he hands it to you you take it. “Take a couple of deep breaths for me okay?” He says and cool fresh air tinted with his scent flows into the mask that you hold over your mouth and nose. It soothes you more than you’d like it to. “The smoke is way worse up here. You should head back to town.”

“Please let people know to come down to Blots for the surprise okay?”

“So how do you know Grey?” You do frown this time.

“Sam, Bucky and I are staying at her place.” Steve says gruffly not looking at Brock but keeping an eye on you. You hand Steve back the mask and give him a little smile. “I’ll make sure to tell people. Please go right back to town.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“Bye Grey!” Brock calls and before you can leave Steve stops you with a gentle hand on your arm.

“Why does he keep calling you that?”

“Because I’m boring. Like the color grey, there’s nothing exciting about me.” Anger crosses his face and he glares in Brock’s direction.

“That isn’t-“ he pauses as you cough again and he once more passes you his mask, “breathe.” You do as he says, “we’ll talk about this back at the house. But that’s not true okay? It’s not true.” You nod then hand back the mask. “How did you even get up here?”

“There’s a trail that Coop and I use a lot, on the edge of the woods and it’s quick and easy.”

“Straight home okay?”

“Yea.” You agree before realizing that he’s just given you an Alpha command, you glance over your shoulder at him and when you see he’s watching give him a little wave before you start walking back down the mountain. You feel his eyes on you until you round the corner. The wind has picked up a bit since you’d come up but it’s nice, and moving the smoke further up hill. It probably doesn’t make fighting the fires easier but at least it’s not pushing anything downhill.

You hear the crack but it doesn’t register until it’s too late. The branch hits you in the shoulder and you collapse under the weight of it.

You’re dazed, you must’ve hit your head because it’s throbbing but you’re not sure if you’ve lost consciousness or not. Your right arm is pinned under the massive branch and your left has some wiggle room but not enough to do you any good, especially with the throbbing pain in your left shoulder. You try to push with your legs to slide yourself out from under the branch but have no luck. Your phone is in your right pocket, right where you can’t reach it. But your watch might be able to help you still.

“Friday?” It beeps twice, “call Steve.” He’s the first person you think of.

“Calling Steve on Stark Phone.”

“Call him on watch!” You say but it doesn’t. “Damn it!” You watch the watch until it says connected. “Steve! I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m pinned under a branch. Halfway to my car. God please be able to hear me. I can’t reach my phone. I really need help.” You take a steadying breath to try and keep yourself calm. “Go down the hill by the forest, you can’t miss me. Please help.” You try to free yourself again but it’s hopeless, the branch is too heavy and you manage nothing.

God you hope that Steve heard you, or that his voicemail did. You don’t know how long you lay there, occasionally struggling against the branch but you suddenly hear him.

“Fawn!”

“Steve! I’m here!”

“Fawn! Keep yelling Honey!”

“I’m here! By the woods! Steve!” You can’t see him yet but you swear that you can smell him, so you keep yelling, “I’m here! Over here!”

“I see you Fawn! I’m coming.” Sure enough a set of hands lift the log off of you and another set pulls you out from under it. “Don’t move.” Steve says easing you gently back onto the ground. “Did you hit your head?”

“I don’t know. I think so?”

“Buck, check for concussion.” He orders from where he’s holding your head.

“Bucky? What time is it?”

“Almost 7. Sam called about an hour ago, but I didn’t answer because I was busy. When you called I knew something was wrong.”

“Steve calm down.” Bucky growls pulling a flashlight from his pocket.

“I feel like such an idiot.” You whisper as Steve takes a deep breath. Bucky shines a flashlight in your eyes then holds up a finger.

“Follow the finger.” He says and you do as he says and he gives you a smile. “You’re good.”

“I’m just glad we found you.” Steve says softly. “And that you’re okay. Does anything hurt before we move you?”

“My left shoulder but that’s what the branch hit first.”

“I’m going to just check it really quick okay?” Bucky says and you nod, he gently probes at your shoulder. He hits where the branch did and you hiss at the jolt of pain, a low growl comes from Steve. Bucky runs you through a couple of moves to see if it’s dislocated and once he’s satisfied that it’s not he gives you the all clear and Steve helps you to your feet.

“Buck, let Fury know I’m going back with Fawn.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Last time I let you go alone you got hit by a branch.”

“That’s what we call a freak accident.”

“I’m still not letting you go alone.”

“But you’ll miss the surprise!”

“I’m staying with a therapy dog. I don’t need to go meet other ones.” He huffs, you can practically feel the irritation rolling off of him. You frown but he has a point, you glare up at him, “Let’s go Fawn.”

“Stop it.” You snap, even though your stomach lurches at your defiance of his Alpha command.

“Stop what?”

“You keep Alpha commanding me!” He looks surprised for just a second then schools his expression.

“I’m sorry.” He says softly, “I didn’t mean to. When an Omega does something dangerous it just kind of happens.” You stare at him, how the hell does he know you’re an Omega?

“I’m not an Omega. I’m a Beta.” He looks sharply over at you his eyes narrowing.

“Huh,” he doesn’t say anything else but gestures for you to follow him down the mountain.

When you get to your car you look over at Steve, still in all his gear.

“Do you need to go get anything?”

“Buck can drive the truck back rather than getting a ride. Do you want me to drive?”

“If you don’t mind.” You hand him the keys, you’ve got one hell of a headache and your shoulder is throbbing but Bucky gave you the okay to go. After you get in the car and buckle you sigh softly before muttering, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Causing problems. I was just so excited about the dogs that I wasn’t thinking. I shouldn’t have gone up.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” He agrees, “I had a big long speech ready for you but you beat me to it.” You laugh softly then wince, laughing hurts. “Let me know if we need to take you to the ER.”

“I will.”

“If you’re comfortable I’d like to take a look at your shoulder and probably ribs before we go to bed. Bucky is our best EMT but I still know what I’m doing.”

“Fine,” you grumble and he shoots you a look. “I’ve learned over the last week it’s just easier not to argue with you. Besides, I don’t need you Alpha commanding me again.”

“Damn right it’s best not to argue with me. But I won’t Alpha command you to do anything, at least I won’t on purpose. Please let me know if I do again okay?”

“Oh, okay.” You’re surprised, but you do appreciate it.

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obsessive-ego · 3 years

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Jack it to a jacket nsft

Masterbation, voyeurism, you know how I am

Musical beetlejuice x fem reader (reader has a vagina but uses they them pronouns)

Beetlejuice forgets his jacket and you use it while he's gone

Beetlejuice had announced to you he had to spend a few days in the netherworld for bio exorcist meeting or something, you really didnt get it, it's not like he actually had a job, all you knew is that he's been complaining about it since day one. That he had to leave the world of the living for a bit.

The day finally came for him to head out for his little business trip, you could tell the ghoul was less then thrilled to go, slight purple streaks graced his hair, you knew he wasnt too keen on being in the netherworld, the demon had such a fascination with the living, an adoration for living with you, going back to the netherworld, even for a few days was like heading back to work after a long period off, soul sucking.

"Alright Sugar" he starts adjusting his tie, his jacket resting on the arm of the couch "I'll be gone for a few days, try not to miss me too much~"

You give the ghoul a soft smile "itll be quieter for sure" you try to joke

"Yeah..." he trails off, his playful teasing voice dropping along with his grin.

"I know this is gonna suck, but the sooner you get it started the sooner it's over with" you try to cheer him up giving the demon a light punch in the arm.

Beetlejuice's hue was now completely purple, you frown at the sight.

"You know doll, I'm being awfully selfish here, but, how bout ya give me a little sugar before I go?~"

You flinch at the suggestion, you wouldnt say you were shocked at this request, but you were.

"You're stalling"

"Come on babes, humor me, I gotta fill out paper work and deal with my mother, could REALLY use a pick me up~" he nudges you gently and gives a wink, hoping it'll soften you up, it does.

"Fine" you huff out, you grab the demon by the suspenders, yanking him to you level giving him a quick peck.

"No tongue on the first date?~" he snickers, as pink patches pop up in his mossy beard.

"...have a good trip" you utter trying to hide your embarrassment

"Oh doll I will, thinking about your soft lips~" the demon's voice drops to that low growl that never failed to make you warm in your lower areas

"Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice! Bee-"

You could NEVER make it to 3, the ghoul was always quick to slap a hand to your mouth, pulling you into a side hug.

"Trying to kick me out so soon sugar? So mean~" he chuckles, the ghoul pulls his hand from your mouth and you sigh.

Beetlejuice pauses holding you in this awkward side hug for a few minutes

"Bee?"

"I know" he grumbles, he begrudgingly pulls away

The ghoul makes his way to the empty wall and draws his entrance.

Knock

Your living room wall opens up to the netherworld, it was always a rare sight to you, a little anxiety inducing, you freeze for a moment, but as the demon steps into the world of the dead you shout

"Wait!"

Beetlejuice turns to you

"You forgot something"

The demon's eyes light up and in a flash he was infront of you, his hands cup your face as he slams his lips into yours, you jolt in surprise, as the ghoul pulls away he purrs "almost forgot my second goodbye kiss, thanks doll" and just like that he was gone, the netherworld was out of sight and you were alone.

"Your jacket" you whisper still alittle dizzy from his kiss.

...

The jacket he left behind spent a few hours folded neatly on the couch as you go about your alone time. Everytime beetlejuice was away you always took the opportunity to get some chores done, you liked the demon yeah, but he always got under foot, or he would be creepy while you tried to get things done. There were times where you were just doing the laundry, and the demon would just stare at you, no words, he just sat atop the dryer watching you like a hawk as you loaded the washer, it made your skin crawl and your stomach turn to have that much attention put on you, hell, you'd rather him be lewd and annoying then that.

As creepy as he was, that was just who he was, and you loved him, his awful charms, his terrible jokes, and his over all handsome, to you, look, wormed it's way into your heart and refused to let go.

Every kiss, every grope, every pet name he gave you dug you deeper into your affection. Though you were too terrified to confront him about your feelings, he was a literal demon, could he even share these feelings, let alone would he like you the same way, all in all you didnt want to ruin what the two of you had, friends, good friends.

You missed him, you really did, so what was the harm in wearing his coat, just around the house, and maybe smelling it every now and again, that wasnt too weird right? And it would be fine if you were to fall asleep wearing it right? There was no harm in it, but if beetlejuice was to pop in unexpectedly and if he say you wearing it casually youd never hear the end of it, and yet you never took it off.

It's been a few days since beetlejuice left for the netherworld, you were relaxing on your bed looking at memes trying to ignore how much you missed a certain undead bastard, hell you were wearing the jacket he left behind and stealing a small sniff here and there, beetlejuice never really gives you a time frame as to when he'd be back whenever he goes to the netherworld.

'Time moves differently when you're dead, and boy does it move, but it slows down when I'm with you babes' you shiver and try to swallow the lump in your throat that memory caused, the undead bastard was such a flirt.

You grew a tad lonely without your favorite dead guy, yes you used to live alone before beetlejuice barged his way into your home, but you have gotten used to him, you miss him when he's not with you, especially his no concept of personal space, how the ghoul's hands always found a home on your body, your hips, your waist, your shoulders.

You feel a familiar pulse between your legs, you try and ignore it, though your mind was reeling with old memories of beej touching you, you werent even scrolling through your phone anymore, just staring at the screen, thinking of the demon's strong callused hands running up and down your thighs.

"You win" you grumble sliding off your bed and crouching next to it, you pull out a little tool box. Opening the little box and revealing an average sized bright green vibrator brandishing a nice bulbous tip. You push the button on the toy's base and it buzzes to life, you smile, glad to see the barriers were still alive, it was too late for you to run out and get replacements.

You shimmy out of your pajama pants and panties before you hop back up on the bed. You remove the jacket giving it a deep inhale of its scent before placing it down next to you.

...

Your living room walls silently open up, letting in a thick fog of green reavling your demon friend, the ghoul knew it was late, late enough that his sweet little y/n should be dead asleep, as your living room rearranges itself back to normal the ghoul floats to your bedroom, excited to come snuggle up to your soft warm body after what felt like an eternity with dealing with his mother and newly deads with no sense of humor.

"Ah!"

The ghoul freezes at the sound, standing in front of your closed bedroom door, you could be? He presses an ear to the door, the faint sound of buzzing and muffled moans could be herd.

In a flash Beetlejuice's hair and moss on his face turns electric pink.

"A welcome home present? For me? Oh dolly~" he whispers before snapping his fingers and camouflaging himself. Beetlejuice fazed through the door and froze at the sight of you, yes he has seen you touch yourself before, but this?

There you were Laying on your bed, propped up by pillows, shirt pulled up exposing your breasts, bottom half completely bare, pumping the vibrator he got you (as an apology for messing with your old one) in and out of your leaking pussy, with your face buried in his jacket, muffling your whining.

The ghoul could have blown his load from the sight alone, yes he knew you liked him, and yes he knows you want him, but this? This was dirty, this was naughty, smelling his clothes and jerking off? You were just as horny as him, not really, no one is, but he'll take this.

"And here I thought only I had a scent fetish" he chuckles making his way to the end of the bed, plopping down to get a good view of your soaked vigina, he was fixated on the speed you pumped the toy in and out of you. Beetlejuice fumbled with his fly, pulling out his semi, the ghoul licks the palm of his hand, coding it is a nice layer of saliva before wrapping it around his cock. Beetlejuice starts off slowly, but it isnt long until his pace matches yours, imagining the toy between your legs was him, god slash satan he envied that peice of silicon.

"Beetlejuice" you whine bucking your hips up to meet the vibrator as it slid back in, you take another deep inhale of the jacket's scent and whine, beetlejuice groans in response.

"Such a dirty little thing, fuck- I expected to come home and see ya sleeping it in, ah- but this? Oh babes, I would have left it behind months ago to, oh god- to see you like this" the ghoul babbled, he really didnt want to finish before you, he wanted to enjoy this show for as long as possible.

You were absolutely lost in your little activity, using you non dominant hand to hold the demon's jacket to your nose, the scent drove you wild, you could imagine beetlejuice driving his cock into you over and over again, the idea of him fully dressed fucking you while you were completely naked made you tremble.

“Oh my god Bee, fuck, yes, please, fucking oh my god I want you to…Beetlejuice fuck…” you babble as you begin to pick up pace with the vibrator.

The ghoul drools at the show you oh so kindly are giving him, hearing you moan out his name, oh how he loved that sound, it wasnt the first time beetlejuice herd you moan out his name during your 'alone time' but it still made his toes curl as though it was.

Beetlejuice growls through his teeth, he was almost there, seeing you use his jacket in such a way was better than he ever could’ve imagined, yes he dreamed of you using his things for sexual satisfaction, he just thought he'd never see it.

Beetlejuice found that trying to keep the pace with you was growing too hard, he needed to finish, he needed you to finish. He didn’t want to cum before you, he needed to see you cum while using his jacket, he needed the image of you using his things to cum to be carved into his brain.

Thankfully, Beej is good at edging, this wasnt his first day being a peeping Tom, and it wont be the last, it wasnt easy, but he could do it, watching you whine and buck your hips because of him, sure made it a challenge though.

You were almost there, you stop pumping the toy, only for a second, to crank the vibrations to the higher setting, your hips jolt up as you press the jacket against your face muffling your screams, with the intensity up you were ready for the home stretch, you begin to move the toy again, in and out, imagining it was the ghoul you oh so loved. You could just imagine beetlejuice pressing you into the mattress with every thrust, all the dirty things he'd be saying to you, praising you for how well you take his fat cock, growling, biting, you couldn't take it anymore, you felt like you were gonna explode. God you wanted that smug bastard so badly, you loved him so much, you moved the hand holding the jacket against you face and brought it to your vagina, as one hand pumped the vibrator the other played with your clit. You groan through your teeth at the added simulation, if only you could see the demon infront of you.

Beetlejuice sat before you, jaw dropped, tongue hanging, drool dripping down his chin, panting. His cock was throbbing, leaking pre cum, he was ready to burst, honestly he surprised he hasn't yet, watching his y/n go to town on their pussy. Beetlejuice watched ad you hips bounced, and your toes curled, he could finally get a good look at your face, you were tearing up.

"Feels good doesnt babes? Wait till you get the real deal~"

"LAWRENCE!" You shout as your hips buck upwards, just then, something new happened, you squirted, thought you didnt notice, you were too busy, head lulled back, panting, and using the soft buzzing of the vibrator to ride out your orgasm.

But beetlejuice on the other hand saw, he saw you squirt when you called him, when you called him by his first name, a name you rarely used. The demon blew his load shortly after your little finale, an image that will always be treasured by him. Beetlejuice wipes the cum off his hand on his pant leg, and slides his now soft cock back into his pants. He watches you lay there for a moment before you gingerly sit up, reaching forward to turn off the vibrator and remove it from you, you flinch doing so, still tender. You give out a yawn and toss the toy on the floor mumble how you'll deal with it in the morning, adjusting your shirt to cover hour chest you slide under the covers, in minutes you were asleep, holding his jacket oh so tightly.

Beetlejuice envied the garment, and as much as the ghoul wanted to slide in next you now, he couldnt, you were naked from the waist down. But you did leave him a tasty snack, so he couldnt be mad at you. Beetlejuice snatches up the freshly used vibrator, still warm from your touch, and vanishes

"Good night y/n" his voice purrs in your ears,

"...Lawrence..."

#beetlejuice x reader #muscial beetlejuice x reader #nsft

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bobbys-naughty-corner · 3 years

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Alpha!Uhsijima x Omega!reader

Warning: smut 18+

PATIENCE

Ushijima pulled you into his lap. Cuddling you as you tried to type an essay. His scent intruding on your nostrils. It made you clench and your slick began to make your panty wet. His rut was in a couple of days and the days leading up to it was unbearable. He had told you that his rut was very rare and you didn’t even think maybe it was because you started to live with him. Ushijima got really touchy. It was apart of his nature, so you didn’t complain. But how he went about it was rather annoying. At first he started sniffing you. Randomly. Coming up behind you and sniffing your hair or pushed your head to the side and sniffing your neck. If you woke up before him he’d sniff where you slept. You caught him doing it a couple of times. Then he progressed to following. No matter where you went, he followed. You weren’t even given privacy in the bathroom. He push his way in with you and act like he was doing something. Brushing his teeth, washing his face, any excuse he could use. If you kicked him out he’d wait right outside the door. He was like your shadow. Now it was touching, following and sniffing. He craved your closeness and loved when you said nice things to him when you two cuddled. But right now you needed concentration so you chose to ignore him as he held you. He didn’t like that though. He wanted your attention. His hand trailed up from your waist to your breast. You pushed it down. He put it back, you pushed him away, he did it again and you gently put his hand back to your waist. He let out an annoyed growl and groped you harshly. You hissed and slapped his hand away. “No!” You yelled at him. Ushijima was shocked. You had raised your voice at him a couple of times, only to speak up or if he hurt himself. Yelling at him to be careful, you took all of his injuries seriously. But you had never ever ever hit him. He nearly whimpered, instead he just grumbled to himself and dropped his forehead to your shoulder.

At night you’d set up the guest bedroom for him. He didn’t want to see you during his rut because he didn’t want to hurt you. He could tell his agitation and sexual instinct weren’t a good combination. So you set up his own space. Packing movies, jump mangas, a oil diffuser to calm his nerves some. You even brought a small fridge and packed food for him. He’d have to miss a cooked meal for a while. He loved your cooking. But you already decided to make his favorite meal once his rut was over. Tonight however something felt different. You woke up covered in sweat. You rushed to the bathroom and looked at your reflection. Disheveled from sleep and sweating all over. You didn’t understand why it was so hot. Your legs began to wobble as your thighs rubbed together creating a friction that had pleasure coursing through your body. No way, it was you. It was because of you he was going into a rut. His sniffing, he was smelling your slick and scent. He followed you out of protection and he touched you because it was like you were begging him. How could you not notice the signs. You went back to the room and grabbed your phone, charger, pillow and snuck his volleyball shirt out of the hamper. You rushed to the guest bedroom and locked the door. Barricading yourself instead of him. You immediately went to work on the room. Almost everything in here was his and he’s been in here a couple of times so his scent was very heavy in the room. But it felt a little uncomfortable since you never used this room to nest. But you had to make do with what you got. You fixed the blankets to your liking, put his shirt over a pillow and cuddled with it as if it was him.

“YN?! YN?!” Ushijima was practically banging on the door. It woke you out of your sleep. “Huh?” Dazed and confused from being woken up so suddenly. “YN let me in. Why’d you lock yourself in there?” He asked as he kept jiggling the door knob. “I need to be alone! Stay away!” You yelled behind the door. You checked your phone and saw it was 9 am. You got up and tumbled to the ground. Your body has literally just woken up from being asleep. Your nose hit the floor rather hard and began to bleed. “Are you okay?!” Ushijima asked. “Uh yeah. I just tripped.” You scurried to the connected bathroom and wiped the blood with a wet rag. “YN! Are you bleeding?! I smell blood! Let me in!” He bellowed. His hands banging and shaking the door knob. You then heard scratching and growling. Then silence, he must’ve left. You went back to your nest and nuzzled into the blankets. Unknowing when your heat would actually start. Could be in a hour or it could be tonight. You’d just have to wait it out.

Staying in the bed bored and tired you. Yawns escaped your mouth as you hugged your pillow and watched movies. Your head snapped to the door when you heard something being forced under the door. It was a card. You got out of the bed and picked up the card. Covered in hearts and pink, you opened it and read it.

‘I hope you’re okay. I went to the store to get you snacks, and got you a build a bear and scented it for you. It’s right outside the door just open it and get it.

-Toshi’

You folded the card and your heart fluttered at his thoughtfulness. But your fluttering heart stopped when you saw his shadow from under the door. He was waiting for you to open it. Nice try. You looked around for a pen and wrote:

‘Thank you but you’re not slick. I know you’re right behind the door. I locked myself in here for the both of us. Visit Satori.’

You pushed the card back under the door and waited. A hard punch landed on the door. You jumped and scurried back to bed. Was he really this scary during his rut? You knew he was possessive and clingy but this was just crazy. You liked it though. You still felt safe. Ushijima walked off while stomping his feet. Be by bo fum. You decided to sleep until your heat hit you fully. Shutting off the lights and television. You drifted off to sleep effortlessly with your ushijima pillow. Ushijima on the other hand was restless. He had to see you. His scent could be smelt from blocks away. He was getting so agitated and being in the same house didn’t help. He didn’t like going far. He could only think about you, what if someone can smell you?! He made sure to mask your scent with his. As much as his whole neighborhood complained he just couldn’t bare the thought of someone trying to get to you. Ushijima paced around the house. Anxiously biting his claws, growling, even sniffing the air just in case there was a change. He knew you needed to be alone but his instincts were to mate and that door wouldn’t hold for long.

You woke up whimpering. Panting heavily as your body got really hot. You moan unconsciously, humping the pillow and crying out. You quickly got undressed and tossed the blankets off of your body. You smelt Ushijima’s scent all over you and it drove you crazy. “Toshi!” You cried unconsciously. Calling for him. You heard clawing at the door and quickly tried to open it but you forgot you locked yourself in. You moaned and cried against the door. “YN where’s the key?” Ushijima asked you. His voice was gruff and almost like a growl. “I-i don’t know.” You whimpered. Your slick wet your legs and your breast ached to be touched. You missed his body on yours. You crawled back to bed and tried to ease your suffering. Your hands massaging your boobs, pulling your nipples. You moaned loudly hoping he could hear you. Ushijima’s vision went dark. But he came back to and punched a hole through the door. You jumped as you saw his hand clawing at the door trying to rip the door knob off. “Toshi stop,” You whimpered. He didn’t listen though. He kept clawing and breaking off parts of the door. His penis hurt so bad he couldn’t just let you be alone. He had to mate. You yipped and panted behind the door and he only got stronger. The door knob no longer attached to the door. He pushed the door open and watched you hump your pillow. Your body glistening with sweat and your body hotter than a 130° fever. You wanted to tell him to leave, but the more he stepped closer the more you wanted him. Was it pathetic? Your body craving him to touch you. Wanting all of his attention and needing his affection.

Ushijima gets in the bed and pushes you on your back. His tongue traces your collar bone and bites down on he junction between your shoulder and neck. Marking you. You whimper at the painful bite. He then kissed the bite. He removes his clothes over you getting just as naked as you were. Your eyes widen as you see his member. It was big, hard and throbbing. Ushijima leaned down again and spread your legs. Your body complient and obident to him. Looking at his face and then back to his dick, back and forth as he slowly pushed in. His nails digging into your skin as you stretched around him. His hips snapped against yours and you howled in pain. Thrashing under him and against the sheets. You may have been wet but he shouldn’t have pushed in so quickly. The pain made your stomach cave in. You pushed against his chest, your eyes bubbling with tears. He began to thrust his dick into you. His knot slowly enlarging as he pressed it just outside of your hole. You tiny claws scratched his chest and shoulders. He grabbed your wrist and pinned them above your head. You squealed when he went faster. Teeth bared and tightly clenched as your back arched and eyes rolled back. His free hand cupped your face and you looked at his face. He smiled softly and said something too low for you to hear. He was talking to himself or either your ears were clogged.

You teared rolled down your face as he slowed down. He released your wrist and sat up. His hands gently holding your hips, slowly thrusting in and out of your cunt. The squelching sound of his dick moving in and out of you made you more hot. His groans and tight face aroused you. He had to compose himself, hold himself back from giving you more pain. He didn’t want to hurt you, he was sorry he did but he’d make it up to you. He’d take care of your body and make you relieved of the sexual tension that courses through your body. He looks down at you, watching your body move under him with each buck of his hips. The mere sight of you made him want to go berserk, to just push his knot into you and release inside of you. Breed you, just how nature intended. But he had to enjoy this, enjoy the pleasure and purity of your body. Enjoy how you called his name, arched your back and moaned. Your hands holding the sheets trying to stop yourself from being pushed further up the bed, grasping each layer of fabric to help you get through it. His eyes gazing at your bouncing breast. The pleasure of it all sent waves of electricity through your body, it was beautiful. You felt your ache dying down but your stomach was bloating. And besides that how could you not notice how wet his body was. Dripping with sweat, glistening and flattering his body. You let go of the bed and reached up. He slowly leaned down and you wrapped your arms around his neck. Whispering into his ear how good he made you feel. A slight feeling of guilt in his heart, how he practically forced himself in here and on top of you. You didn’t mind though, you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. “Toshi~ please more. I can take more now.” You told him. Confident in yourself and your body. You could handle it. He stopped moving and lifted your body. He grabbed a pillow and place it under your butt, gently laying you back down. He brought your legs up over his shoulders, you felt him inching in deeper, you moaned and moved your arms. Your hands found his and you held them, fingers between fingers, intimately close. Silent and steady, he kissed your lips. Opening your mouth for him, letting his tongue dance with yours. Your vagina fluttered at the kiss. He grunted, your walls squeezing around his dick. Could you be any more perfect? You sighed into the kiss when he pulled out. Slowly pushing back in, shifting his body to be at a comfortable and pleasurable angle. When he found the right spot, he got faster. No longer kissing, grunting into your mouth as you gasped and moaned under him. His dick gently touching your cervix, enough to give you a dull pain and pleasured shocks through your body. Your hands squeezing his as he sped up. He moved his head to your neck and sniffed out your scent. Biting down on the gland and going faster, harder, rougher. His knot pressing right at your hole, threatening to be pushed in. His body couldn’t stop, he couldn’t stop.

“So good!” You praised him. Only able to say two or three words. Your mind filled with pleasure, lust and sexual drive clouding your judgement. You were all his and your body was eagerly open to him. Your stomach tightened. You felt yourself about to cum, but you didn’t want to just yet. You didn’t want to stop. Ushijima let go of your left hand and used his hand to find your clit. His thumb firmly rubbing your sensitive nub up and down. Forcing you to orgasm. “Don’t hold back baby. Cum for me.” He whispered into your neck. Licking your bite. Your body trembled, your orgasm rocked through you like you were going down a water slide. Your teeth clenched and he yelped as you tightened around him. Your body was so sensitive and he took that into consideration. You squeezed him into you. His hips stoped thrusting as he pushed his knot inside of you. Your slick made it easy to enter but it was still a bit painful. Like pins and needles. His cock throbbing inside of you as he came, holding onto you. Trying to control himself. Breathing heavily through his teeth. He hand quickly gripped the headboard, not wanting to hand your body. “Fuck!” He shouted. A tear fell down your face. Your stomach hurt, you felt full and exhausted. Your body limp under him. Both of you unable to move away from each other until his knot was gone. You whimpered when he lifted you up, flipping you on top of him so he wouldn’t suffocate you under his body. He helped your legs down, they were sore and very much dead. He brushed back your hair, lifting your head to kiss you gently, a thank you for allowing him to have you. To claim you as his. Your body relaxed over him, letting him softly massage your waist. “I love you.” You said as you snuggled into his neck, your exhausted body falling asleep. Faintly catching his “I love you too.”

#x reader smut #haikyuu x reader #x reader #haikyuu ushiwaka #haikyuu smut #ushijima x reader #ushijima smut #wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #smut

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softsalome · 3 years

Text

Discreet.

Repost from my old account, @/softperfuma.

“So you’re not a hugger? Color me surprised.”

Kuvira scoffed at the comment, pulling the satchel of lotus roots higher on her shoulder. The path back to the main compound wasn’t long, but under the gaze of the scorching summer sun, it felt along the lines of endless. She looked in your direction, eyes following the lines of your body as you shuffled the weight of your own burden, a bag about the same weight and length as hers.

“If there was any indication that I was one for hugs, I promise it was a mistake.”

You laughed at her response, sighing in relief as the buildings grew, the two of you drawing closer. The white paint was a sight of solace in the heat despite also signaling the lack of freedom for you both. Even though it wasn’t cold metal bars under the cover of night, it was still a prison. One that you’d both be condemned to as you paid for your transgressions in full.

Rolling your head back to face the sky, a smile spread across your face as you spoke back. “Aw, really? Could’ve fooled me. But I think a few hugs would do you some good.”

Kuvira rolled her eyes, taking the lead as you both used the back entrance to one of the kitchens. A voice called out as your boots squeaked across the floor, its owner hidden in the adjacent room. “Morning, you guys! Thanks for getting up so early for the lotus!”

“As if we had a choice,” Kuvira muttered under her breath, dropping her satchel on one of the tables to be mined through and cleaned later. Following her motion, you swung your share onto the space beside hers, giving her a light shove before answering the faceless voice.

“You’re welcome Lei! I’ll be back in a few hours to clean up after prep, alright?”

“You’re an angel!” he sung, making a short appearance in the doorway to wave at you both. It was lost on Kuvira, who was already on her way out the door.

You kept hot on her heels, the both of you following the path to the dormitories that housed your rooms. Catching up to make pace with her, you studied her face, wondering where the sudden shift had come from. “What’s wrong? You usually find Lei pretty tolerable.”

“He’s killed three people.”

“He also makes a mean stir-fry,” you countered, opening the door for her once you reached the building. “And do you know why he killed three people? It’s pretty crazy actually-”

“I don’t believe it’s crazy enough for me to care.” Making her way to her room, she stalked in, swinging the door behind her. She didn’t expect you to catch it before it clicked shut, or follow her in to confront her. You were quick to toe out of your still-damp boots, the resistance they gave as you set them next to Kuvira’s only adding to your frustration.

“Okay, what the hell is up with you? You’ve been off since we got up this morning. And I know you probably see me as someone you’re stuck with, and not someone you actually like, but I’d really appreciate some basic level of respect.”

Kuvira sighed, sliding the back of her hand across her forehead and sucking her teeth when it came back dirty. She didn’t know how today would unfold, but she wasn’t prepared to get scolded by you after hours of wading through pondwater.

“If you woke up on the wrong side of the bed or just really hate hugs, that’s fine,” you continued. “But don’t take it out on me.”

“I don’t hate them.” she mumbled. Unable to hear her, you stepped closer, meeting her in the middle of her room. “What was that?”

“I don’t hate them,” she said louder, looking up to lock eyes with you. “I just… never quite had enough to know how to feel about them.”

You stared at her, eyes wide as you processed the information she was sharing with you. Processed that she was sharing at all. Two years in neighboring rooms and all you knew about her was what you read in the papers before your sentence was decided. You could feel your brow in knots as you tried to come up with a reply. “I-”

“I understand I was a bit…insufferable today. I apologize.”

Still shocked, your eyes left hers to study the floor instead. The silence was heavy on you both, and it wasn’t until you heard a deep exhale, a preparation to speak, before you decided to say your piece.

“Come here.”

Kuvira’s fists unraveled as she looked at you, through you even, trying to find the meaning to your words. “What did you say?”

You found her eyes again, firm as you used your gaze and words to challenge her. “Come here, Kuvira.” She stared at you as you stretched your arms ahead, widening them slightly as you waited for her to fill them.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am,” you said crossly, widening your arms a bit more. “You said you didn’t have enough to know how to feel, right? So come here. Now, before I change my mind.”

You frowned, standing up a little straighter as you steeled yourself for rejection. The disbelief on Kuvira’s face was unmistakable, and even though you knew what the outcome would be, you held your position until it was certain that she wouldn’t entertain you.

But she surprised you. As she often did. She tentatively took a step forward, before steeling her nerves, quickly closing the distance to wrap her arms around you.

Sinking into her, you wrapped your arms around her waist, exchanging the moan you wanted to let out for a soft sigh, quiet against her shoulder. After a few moments like that, of feeling her chest rise against yours, of taking in the lingering smell of jasmine from her shower the evening before, you let out a light laugh, resting your chin atop her shoulder so she could clearly hear your voice.

“So you’re a hugger after all,” you breathed, diving back into the crook of her shoulder. She opened her mouth to answer, but the words caught in her throat as your lips grazed against her neck before finding comfort in her shirt collar. After a moment’s hesitation, she finally spoke.

“Shut up,” she grumbled softly. “This doesn’t change-”

“I forgive you,” you sighed, pulling her in tighter, hating the idea of any possible space between the two of you. You let the silence settle again, lounging over the both of you as warm as the heat you continued to share. You drew longer breaths, letting the scent of her fill you as you tried to etch the moment deep into your memory, knowing you wouldn’t have one like it again.

Fearing the minutes had stretched on for too long, you began to pull back, swallowing hard as you realized that your waists still met at your closeness.

“You should probably shower, Kuvira. You smell.”

She laughed, and you felt as though your heart would burst. “You say that as if you hated it, but you seemed to be breathing rather deeply.”

You frowned at the reality of being caught, wanting to give her another shove but refusing to untangle yourself from her arms. “Shut up.”

She laughed again, her head cocking back as you tried to commit the sound to memory. You wanted it so badly. On repeat, straight from the source, but knowing it was an impossibility.

An impossibility until she looked down at you again, the look in her eyes melting into something much warmer. Carnal.

“You should take a shower as well,” she said, her voice dripping with something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. But you wanted to. Spirits, you wanted to.

“Yeah, of course.” Your voice devolved into a whisper as you followed her gaze. Back and forth, her eyes traveled. From your lips, to your eyes, and back again.

“Then you better get going.” she whispered, still holding you in her arms.

The seconds stretched on too long for your liking. Finally she was here, quite literally in the palm of your hands, but there was still a chasm between the pair of you that was absolutely infuriating. And as confident as Kuvira always was, she was surprising you again. Surprising you by hesitating, surprising by not jumping at the chance to get what she wanted. It was as if what she wanted was too fragile to grab, for fear that it might shatter in her hands.

But it was too much. And you were far too impatient.

“Fuck it,” you whispered, reaching up to grab her by the neck. Pulling her in, you make your first mark on her lips and relish at the sound. Her moans tasted sweet on your tongue, and you felt your mouth break into a smile as she gasped between kisses. You kept at her lips, begging over and over for the taste of her as her hands hooked beneath your thighs and hoisted you up against her. You joked about being lighter than the roots you carried that morning, but the quip didn’t last as she sucked hard on your bottom lip, your legs wrapping tighter around her waist.

______________________________

Kuvira was chasing the tail end of curfew, wanting to get back to her room before final call. She tugged her gloves off and held them in one hand as she walked. She didn’t mind tossing the garbage, but the smell it tended to leave on the fabric left a lot to be desired. Finally reaching her building, she was met by a figure half casted by darkness, holding the door for her.

“Kuvira, hi!” Lei chirped, moving aside so she could grab the door. She thanked him, making her way to her room before he stopped her.

“Oh Spirits, Kuvira, are you alright? What’s that on your shoulder?”

Her hand flew to where Lei was pointing, brows furling as she realized her gloves were still between her fingers. Switching hands, she searched the skin for any abrasions, wondering what could possibly be wrong-

Until she remembered the feeling of your teeth at her skin, biting a trail down her chest as she egged you on.

“Must’ve been from this morning,” she replied smoothly, hoping the dim light would shroud the growing blush on her cheeks. “The strap from the satchels dug into my skin pretty badly.” She could hear the pity in his voice as he answered.

“Oh, how terrible! Well I think there’s salve in the infirmary so be sure to grab as much as you need.”

“Of course,” she said, bidding him goodnight before disappearing down the hall. The hallway that led to the infirmary came and went, Kuvira passing it by as she made her way to her room. She wasn’t in pain, and she had no intention of using a salve.

She just wanted your mouth on her again. This time, in place that was a bit more discreet.

#fic rec #kuvira x reader #msww #kuvira

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angsty-omi · 3 years

Text

was she just a friend?

hajime iwaizumi x Reader

tw: very slight domestic abuse, insecurity, no happy ending, swearing, suggestive themes, and no editing prior.

when you first started dating hajime, you had accepted the fact that he had a really close girl friend. how could you not? before you guys made it official he made sure his concerns were met with. this should’ve been the first red flag, however, you were blinded by love.

at first, it was subtle. she’d tag along with you guys on your walk home, which you didn’t mind at all. most of the trips, she’d make fun of iwaizumi and reminisce when they were kids. which, in turn, made you laugh. a lot. and usually after she got home, you and iwaizumi could spend the sunset together. his large calloused hand would wrap around yours, and he’d bring your hand up to peck it. your heart grew bigger by the minute.

then, one day after she left, both of his hands gripped your jaw, and soft lips were pressed against yours. you smiled into the kiss and added more pressure. as he pulled away, you instinctively moved forward for more. that made him chuckle, and grabbed your chin once more. however, this kiss was more passionate. you could never forget that night. it was purely blissful.

for the next six months, life felt like paradise. there was a consistency of “i love you-s,” cuddles, and even sex. but, as they say, happiness is only temporary. on your sixth month anniversary, you and hajime had planned a fancy dinner date on the bay. you showed up early, with excitement written on your face. you were currently wearing a satin maroon dress with a black trench coat on top. as you sat at your table, you pulled out a box out of your pocket. it was a promise ring. you rubbed the circumference of it, trying to ease your nerves. was this moving too fast? you were certain that you couldn’t love another the way you love hajime.

as the hour strikes, he still hadn’t showed up. you repeatedly checked your watch, and even asked other people’s in case your time was wrong. you texted hajime multiple times with no response. anxiety started bubbling in your stomach. what if hajime’s hurt? what if he got into a car accident? what if a UFO came down and kidnapped him? you prayed to yourself that none of those things were true.

before you even realized it, another hour went by. and at this point the waiters were passively suggesting you to leave, due to their full house. at first, you were weary, what if hajime shows up? you thought. although, you complied with the waiters and left. you called him so many times with no pick up. before jumping to conclusions, you decided to text her.

y/n: hey, have you talked to hajime recently?

her: nope! but i can text him if you’d like!

y/n: sure

you rolled your eyes at her message, she acted like he’d answer her and not you. you were his girlfriend for god sakes. obviously if he could text someone it’d be you... atleast that’s what you thought before you got a notification.

her: oh he just said he’s at home, was there something you needed?

that text broke your heart. he’s at home? worst of all he texted her back and not you? you just left her on read and headed home.

as you slammed your phone on the bed, you got ready to sleep. slipping into one of hajime’s shirts and a pair of underwear you tuck yourself in. while drifting, you inhaled his shirt and it smelled like him. his cologne had a wood musk scent to it which you adored. and before you realized it, you were crying. crying yourself to sleep.

the next morning during school, you did everything in your power to ignore hajime. you skipped the lockers, lunch, and even prevented going to bathroom in case he was there. who could blame you? you were still upset after being stood up.

“miss y/n, could you grab these papers and send it to the office please?” your teacher asked.

you picked up the hefty amount of sheets and went on your merry way. with your guard down roaming the hallways, you failed to notice her and hajime at the end of it. as you both looked up from a long distance with eye contact, you simply turned around and took a detour. you could hear sneakers quickly catching up to you. it was hajime.

“hey baby i haven’t seen you all day,” he wrapped his arm around you.

you ignored him and continued looking straight ahead.

“hey are you okay?”

silence.

“y/n if you’re going to act like this and not tell me what’s going on, i’m going to go.” hajime said with a stern voice. you bit your lip, trying to hold tears back. you nudged yourself off of him and replied “fine.”

how could he be mad at you? and why’s he acting like nothing happened?

at the end of the school day, hajime was waiting at the gates for you. you caught sight of him and sighed. you couldn’t hold it off any longer. as you approached him, you saw her peeking out next to him. of course. with annoyance, you started walking home, with them behind you. the walk home was silent, excluding the loud footsteps trailing behind you. as soon as she turned for her house and a couple more steps, hajime grabbed your wrists and gently pinned you on the wall.

“tell me what’s wrong.”

immediately, tears start falling down your face.

“how could you forget about our sixth months?”

at this point, iwaizumi’s face turned pale. paler than a sheet of printer paper. he quickly kissed your tears, and rambled apologies.

“i can explain, that day hachi had some major family issues. her dad had just left the house to get drunk, and her mom was out of town. she needed me to come over, so i rushed.”

“so then, why didn’t you text me back?”

“what?”

“you heard me”

“i gave my phone to hachi because her dad broke hers.”

you gave a confused look. her phone wasn’t broken, she literally texted you and to think about it you never said her name aloud or in your thoughts.

“what? i literally texted her the night of and she said you texted her back saying you were home”

“hachi wouldn’t do that.”

did he just assume that you would lie? what reason would you even have to lie? you pulled up your phone and showed him the messages.

“this was probably a misunderstanding, are you sure your connection was good? some of them probably didn’t send so it looks bad” he casually said.

you were just in so much shock when he said that. how could he? why did he? your head started to feel stressed so you just walked away. not wanting to hear his idiotic excuses anymore. he trailed behind you and wrapped his arms around you.

“please don’t leave us on bad terms, i’m sorry i won’t do it again” you felt tears on the back of your school uniform.

“i guess it wouldn’t hurt to forget this one instance” you thought to yourself. so what did you do? you forgave him.

poor little naive girl.

after you guys made up, he decided to have a make up anniversary. you guys cuddled up on your bed and watched many sappy romance movies while ordering your favorite place. this was way better than an expensive dinner. you were just glad he was in your arms again and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

you got up from the bed with his arms dragging behind to go into your dresser, where you hid the box. as you were about to turn around and suprise him, his phone rang. who could be calling at this hour? you know who. hachi.

“don’t pick it up” you frowned.

“please babe just give me one second?” he pouted.

you nod in a agony. as he answered it, you could hear dramatic tears on the other end with a concerned hajime on the line.

“are you okay?! he did what?! i’m coming right now”

as he ended the call, he buckled his pants back on.

“you’re kidding right?”

you hid the tiny box behind your back.

“what are you talking about y/n?” he frustrated, clearly stressed out.

“this is our anniversary and you’re going over to see another girl?”

“y/n, she’s my best friend and you know that. plus she’s home alone and her dad just broke a window.”

“then can i come with you?”

he shook his head, “i don’t think she wants anyone to see her in that state right now”

“except for you, hm makes sense okay”

“can you please not be insecure for like one day?” his fingers ran through his hair.

your eyes widened, “are you fucking serious? you’re the one that made me insecure! first i dropped the whole dinner phone text thing even though there was obvious evidence hachi was trying to sabotage us, why can’t you see it?!”

“y/n, at the beginning of our relationship you acknowledged that i had a close girl friend. and with that, the dinner thing was just a misunderstanding. stop bringing that up or else.” he aggressed.

“are you seriously threatening me right now?”

“if you leave right now.. t-then we’re over!” the words just slipped out of your mouth. both of you guys were in shock. you were just so relentlessly depleted from this argument that you decided this was your solution.

he furiously opened the door, “hajime wai-” you were cut off by the door slamming shut. tears were flowing like a waterfall at this point. you gave yourself some time to breathe and reevaluate. you couldn’t lose hajime, he was your person. your light. your yellow. you put on your sneakers and ran to hachi’s house, knowing he’d be there. you grabbed the promise ring alongside so you could beg for forgiveness.

your breath was ragged, damn were you out of shape. but at the end, you got to your destination. as you analyzed the house, there seem to be no windows broken, but the front door was opened slightly. you knew she was lying from the start about her dad smashing things. you slowly walked in as quiet as possible and could hear sobs in the other room. as you pressed your ear to the door, it was hajime’s sobs. your heart felt so much guilt, sayings like “i love her so much” and “how could she just say that?” were the only phrases you could comprehend. then there was silence. as you opened the door, prepared to make up, you couldn’t believe your eyes. hachi and hajime’s face were about a half an inch away from each other. they both looked up at you.

“nice intact windows, take this stupid fucking ring, you’re dead to me iwaizumi” you chucked the box at him. as he looked at the box, it had been embroidered ‘promise’ on it and he knew what that meant. you quickly made your exit through the door with hajime closely behind you.

you stopped in your tracks, “please just leave me alone” your voice now dainty.

“y/n, plea-”

“please what? please forget about what i saw? i knew it i fucking knew it. you know what, this whole time you made me like the bad guy when it was YOU. you made me like this, and the worst part is I STILL LOVE YOU.” you punched jabs into his chest. obviously it didn’t hurt him physically, but emotionally it felt like a million swords were stabbing him repeatedly.

“please stop this, is there anyway you can forgive me? please?” he sobbed.

“i’ll do anything”

“would you leave hachi for me?” you asked sharply.

his hesitation was all you needed. in his head he answered yes, but it was like his vocal chords stopped working. deep in his heart, he knew you deserved better. so he stayed quiet.

“go to hell, go fuck hachi or something see if i care.” but you did care. you just wished that he fought just a little bit for you. but he never did and you had to accept it like a champ.

before this all happened, you had dreamed about iwaizumi hajime and yours’s future. but now it’s all ruined.

you’re left heartbroken and lost $350 on a ring that had no meaning.

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #hq iwaizumi #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizume x reader #haikyuu fluff

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itsthestutterforme · 3 years

Text

I Reject You (Ransom Drysdale)

Summary: Ransom has a friends with benefits relationship with Y/N recently learned that she is pregnant with Ransom's pup but rejects him as the father because of how he treated her when they were together.

Notes: GIF is not mine, slight smut, fluff, A/B/O dynamics, mentions of human trafficking, mentions of depression, implied sexual assault (if any of these trigger you, please do not read. Take care of yourselves.)

Here you are exactly where you promised yourself you weren't going. As soon as you saw Ransom sitting in your office chair, you knew where this was headed. He picked you up from your job and drove straight to his house.

Your body shakes when he lazily thrusts into your soaked cunt as you both are laying down on your side. Leaning your head against his collarbone, your mouth falls open when he rubs your clit when his thumb.

You follow his hips when he pulls out of you, leaving just the tip in before drilling into you hard and fast. "You are such a slut for my dick aren't you? No matter how many times you say you never want to see me again. You. Are. Mine. Omega." He whispers into you ear and you were starting to see stars.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips as you cum for the fifth time today. His knot pops open and his seed decorated your walls. He pulls out of you and you lay on your back, mustering up the strength to get up but he grabs your chin roughly so you could look at him.

"No one can make you cum like I can. No one." You pull away from his grip and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You curse at your body for trembling. You needed to get out of there and quick before he notices something is off.

You noticed a different abouf a week ago and went to the doctor. Only to find out that you were pregnant by no other than Ransom Drysdale. The trust fund playboy. There's no way you were going to tell him the baby was his. You needed to end whatever this is and you needed to end it now.

"You smell different," he says, trailing his nose along the curve of your neck. "Is your heat starting?" He asks and you choose not to say anything. What is there to say to a man that calls you a cumslut one second and is worried about your well being, the next?

You stand on wobbly legs and slide on your underwear while in search for the rest of your clothing. "When I talk to you, I expect you to speak." He says, standing from the bed and you jump into your dress pants. When you reach for you blouse, he rips from the your hand and tosses it across the room.

Attempting to get the blouse, a growl emits deep in his chest and you still your movements. You don't meet his eyes but you could feel the anger blossoming in his gaze. He grabs your throat sharply and lowered his head until his blue eyes met yours.

"Speak, Omega." Chills rolls down your spine at his command. "There's nothing to talk to you about." "You could have just said that. You didn't have to ignore me." "I didn't peg you as the sensitive type, Drysdale." You snark, and he allows you to pull his hand away from your throat.

"You're not going to shower before you go like you normally do? What, am I that bad of a person?" "There's nothing normal about this, Ransom. And to answer your question, yes, you are." You walk across the room and button up your blouse.

"What's up with you? You've been acting bitchy all day." "Wow, you talk like you're a ray of sunshine." "You know what, you want me to speak. Fine, I'll speak. Don't talk like you give a shit about me because you and I both know you don't. The only thing you care about is getting your rocks off like a horny little bitch."

Oh your hormones are going to get you in trouble. The omega in you was trembling with fear of what Ransom was going to do to you. He snarls and before you could even think about running, he turns you around and shoves into the nearest wall. His eyes glowing a dreadful crimson as he growled in your face.

"You got a death wish, omega? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to." He snarls and you instinctively expose you neck to him. Your arm maternally drapes over your stomach protectively and he noticed. His eyes lost their glow and he stares down at your stomach with wide eyes.

He takes a few steps back and you could hear his anxious heart pattering in his chest. "Is it mine?" "No," you answer a little too quickly and he raises his eyebrow questionigly. "You're lying," he says, taking a step toward you with his eyes glazing over your mating gland.

"Absolutely not," you snap and he takes another step towards you. "Stop, Ransom. Please don't," you whimper as he blew warm air over your sensitive gland. Something else stirred inside of you that wasn't your omega part of you. It was something more dominant and heavy.

Your hand comes up and in between your neck and his face. Your gripped his face and shoved him as hard as you could with surprising strength. You sent him flying across the room. He initially landed on the bed and bounced off to land in the corner.

A deep, protective roar erupted from your chest and something happened that you dreaded for most of your life. Your eyes were glowing. Your eyes didn't shine a normal golden color. They glowed like a broken mixture between crimson and ogate from an unspeakable past trauma.

"What the hell are you?" He asks as your eyes restore to normal. "Baby," he adds, his features softened. "Stay away from me. And stay away from my pup." You threaten, before sliding on your shoes and walking out the door. You wave down a taxi who drives you back to your house.

"Hey, I stopped by your job and saw you- Y/N, are you okay?" Your mom asks as her eyes settle on your trembling frame. "He found out." You croak, she motions you to sit on the couch and you comply. "He found out about the baby?" She asks. "He found out," you repeat, watching as she realizes what you really meant.

"He saw your eyes?" She asks with disbelief. "He tried to forcefully claim me and I bellowed at him to protect my pup." "What are you going to do? Do you want to leave?" She asks, running a comforting hand down your arm. "I have no idea, Mom. I don't get it. I thought I wasn't able to get pregnant."

"This is a blessing, honey." She says and you shake your head. "It would have been a blessing if the father was a decent human being, but he's not, Mom. He treats me.." you trail off and your mother purrs sadly, resting your face on the sides of hers. "He's a terrible person, Mom. But I need him and I fucking hate it."

"I know, honey. We don't need to figure everything out right now. Take a deep breath." You take a deep breath and a series of sobs escape your lips. You're screwed and everyone knows it.

Ransom bounces his leg nervously in his Beemer as he parks outside of Y/N's house. He could smell her, she's in deress and she's feeling an immense amount of sadness. He doesn't even know what he's doing there. It's not like his presence would help anything. She hated him and he doesn't blame her.

He would always call you names and insult your intelligence to keep you rilde up so he wouldn't know how it was to be loved by you. He started to fall for you when you would talk back against his misogynistic tendencies. He loved how your nose crinkled just before you were about to snap on him.

You have guts and you stood your ground, regardless if you were an omega or not. He respected that about you. But now he wanted to show you that he was willing to change for you and that he treated you like shit because he was scared of what your love could to him.

But he knew you. You would tell him to fuck off and leave because that is what he was good at. He had a plan to get you to trust him, but if that doesn't work. He has no idea what to do with himself. With a deep breath, he hops out of his Beemer and stalks towards the front door.

He knocks firmly and he heard footsteps ascending to the door. His heart races in his chest but he swallows it down. The door opens and he meets the gaze of a very angry mother. "How dare you come here?" "I need to see her," "I think you've done enough."

"She's carrying my pup, I can't just leave her." Ransom's explains, desperate to be given the benefit of the doubt. "I've heard terrible stories about you. You trust fund, prick. My daughter made a mistake and I'm sure she'll learn from it without your help." She snaps.

"Did she say that?" "She did," "You're a terrible liar. Just like your daughter." He sighs when she growls defensively at him. "What happened to her? To her eyes?" He asks. "Please, I want to be in her life. She makes my heart tingle and that scares the hell out of me, so I tried to push her away by.."

"By treating her like trash. You have no idea how to deal with women, do you?" She asks and he shakes his with defeat.

"Come in," she says with a sigh. Ransom walks into the house much smaller than he's used to. That's what a family house looks like. The entire living room is the size of his walk in closet. But he understands why Y/N would call it home. "Stay here, I'll be right back." Y/N's mom says before disappearing down the hall.

He sits down on the side of the couch where your scent is the strongest. His eyes fall to the shut door closest to the kitchen. Your scent dripped from the room and it took everything in him not to burst in there and pull you into his arms.

Y/N's mom returns with a thin stack of newspapers. The looked to be a few years old by the font and the faded lettering in some places. The newspaper crinkles in his hands as he read the headline on the first page.

HUMAN TRAFFICKING VICTIM FOUND AFTER 7 YEARS. Below the headline was a picture of a young girl with bruises litering her face as she pulled the blanket close to her.

The most heart wrenching part about the picture was how hollow her eyes looked. It was like looking into a dark tunnel with no light at the end of it. Whatever she experienced ruined whatever childhood she had left. Ransom's eyes scan over the article and flipped through the rest of the pages, growing angrier the more he read.

"How long ago was this?" Ransom asks. "Five years ago. She was twelve when she was taken." Ransom shakes his head with disbelief and sets the newspaper on the table in front of him. "Can I see her, please?" He asks desperately.

"She hasn't moved since she came back from your house a week ago. She barely talks and eats. Hopefully you have better luck than I do." She says, motioning for the door.

Ransom stands up and opens the door within a few strides. Goosebumps littered his skin when he inhales Y/N's miserable musk. Tears threatened his eyes but he wiped them away quickly. She already been through hell and Ransom made it worse by treating her the way he was. She deserved better than him.

"Y/N?" Ransom starts but Y/N doesn't move a muscle. Her bed covers were draped over her entire body, leaving a small opening above her head so she could breathe. Her breathing was barely audible, she could easily be mistaken as dead. The room was dim from the closed curtain and lack of light.

Not knowing what to say, he decides he was going to stay there with her. Maybe.. hopefully.. his prescence is enough to comfort her because he has no idea how to do that as he was never comforted as a child. He was just told to suck it up and stop being a baby. He's a Drysdale. And Drysdale's aren't weak.

He shrugs off his peacoat and pulled off his cable knit sweater. He stepped a little closer to admire her nest but notice the lack of his scent. He drapes his cable knit over the headboard of her bed. Not wanting to push his luck, he walked away from the bed and slid down the wall a distance away from you.

He smiles when he hears you purr softly in your sleep as you notice his scent. "Baby, I'm going to stay here with you, if that's okay." Ransom says and you continued to purr. Guess that wasn't a terrible sign.

Later that night, Ransom left your house to grab a week's worth of clothes plus an assortment of clothes you could add to her you. You still haven't said anything but your vile scent of shame and sadness has lessened.

When Ransom came back, Y/N's mom offered him the guest room but Ransom claimed it was too far from her. So she pumped up an air mattress for him. He's spent every day in the room with Y/N without saying a word. One day, Ransom came back with sushi for lunch to see you out of bed.

You froze when you saw him down the hallway after closing the door to the bathroom. "You came back earlier than I expected," you say and a sigh of relief leaves his lips. You both stay in your spots and stare at each other, waiting for someone to make the first move.

"I'm not good at comforting people. But I am good at telling people what I know. And I know that I feel like absolutely shit for how I treated you. And I know what happened to you when you were younger. Why your eyes are the way they are." He starts. "The fact that you can stand up for other people despite your past makes you strong. A strong mate and a strong mother." He adds.

He sets the sushi on the counter and you shove your hands into the pockets of your sweatpants. "We're not meant to be parents, Ransom. This could be the worst thing that could happen to us." She explains. "Or the best thing. I don't know about you, but I've been looking for a change. And then I met you and that was the change I was looking for." He explains.

You eye him suspiciously, unsure of where this verbal affection came from. "Why are you saying these things? Did my mom put you up to this? I told her I would be fine." You say, walking down the hall and into your room. "She didn't put me up to this. And no, you're not fine." He says, leaning against your door frame.

"Baby, we're in this together." "I don't trust it. I don't trust you. I've seen what you're capable of and the way you treat people. And I will be damned if I let you treat my pup like that."

"Your pup?" "My pup," you repeat, placing a hand on your stomach. His gaze falls on your stomach and he nods to himself like he's making a decision in his mind.

"Mark me," he says, taking off his pea coat, cable knit sweater and tank top underneath that. He sets on the air mattress and nears you slowly. "What? No." "I'll honor the bond. I'll be yours and only yours. I won't mark you unless you want me to. Just please, mark me."

"This is insane," you start and takes your hand to place on his cheek. He inhales the scent of your pulse point on your wrist before placing your hand on his mating gland. You shake your head no and he sits down, pulling you into his lap and burying your face into his neck.

Your inner omega takes over and you wrap your arms around his neck. "Alpha," you whimper. "Oh, omega. I'm so sorry, baby." He whispers. He stares up at the ceiling as he tries to hold back his tears but it was no use. He always thought that he was fucked up because Linda never showed him any affection as a kid.

But to hear about what you experienced as a kid. The fact that you had nothing and you had your will and autonomy stripped from you. Ransom's autonomy was the only thing he felt like he truly had. He rubbed circles on your neck and you sigh into his. He learned that from a Google search he did but you didn't know that.

You pull away from his neck and cupped his cheeks, pressing a warm kiss on his soft lips. You were desperate for each other's touch, but it wasn't in a sexual way.

It was more like a tending to an internal scratch. Your eyes fluttered closed and he lifted your chin to deepen the kiss. Your tear stained cheeks rubbed against his and his tongue swiped against your lip, begging for access.

You glady give him the access he needed and his happy hummed vibrated your chest. He pulled away slowly and held you gaze before exposing his neck to you. You couldn't believe your eyes. The Ransom Drysdale was exposing his neck to you. Submitting to you. Maybe he wasn't bluffing after all.

You ghost your fingers over his mating gland and he sighs at the touch. You look to him and he nods, encouraging you to continue. Your tongue darted out to moisturize your dry lips and press a kiss to the sensitive skin. You purr as you inhale his musk of honey and crackers, his favorite childhood snack.

."Y/N, please." Giving him one last look before sinking your teeth into his neck, his mouth falls open and you bite down harder until you could taste the metallic drops of his blood.

You lick away the droplets of blood escaping the wound before pulling away. You lick away the blood from your lips and expose your neck to him but he gripped your chin and shook his head.

"You have to want it." He says sincerely. You barely recognize the Ransom in front of you. His ogate eyes dilate as they met your Y/E/C eyes. And in that moment you realize that Ransom was just as broken as you were. He truly was yours.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out #slight smut #fluff #chrisevans

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certifiedskywalker · 3 years

Text

What Could’ve Been - Sam Wilson

With the rift carved between Tony and Steve, sides were taken. You found yourself on Cap’s team of criminals, running away from confinement and towards trouble. Running led you all to Europe, specifically the English countryside, for a brief reprieve. During this break, you and Sam find yourselves at an ‘open house’, thinking about a future that isn’t yet in reach.

AN: I need to stop writing when I’m hungry…I always mention food…

Careful, you two. Steve’s warning rang through your head as you walked in step with Sam. You shook your head and scoffed, your breath forming a small cloud. Apparently, your sound of dismay was enough to get Sam’s attention.

“What?”

“Who does he think we are? Twelve year-olds? He said it like he can’t trust us. Us!”

“He really got under your skin this time, huh?” You glanced over at Sam as he spoke and saw the grin spread along his lips. The kind of grin that caused crinkles to form in the corners of his eyes. The kind of grin you saw all too rarely.

“He didn’t get under yours?” You asked incredulously, throwing your hands up in slight defeat. “It’s like he thinks we’ll cause trouble and get caught.”

“Well, there was that time in Peru.”

You pointed a finger at Sam and shook your head. “That was different.”

“You went back for a sandwich! I mean, it was good, but not worth dying over.”

“I beg to differ,” you protested, “I went to bed full and satisfied that night. If I remember correctly, you were complaining about being hungry.”

“I don’t complain.” A laugh rippled up your throat at Sam’s sternness. “I don’t.”

“Sure,” you sighed after you caught your breath, “and Steve doesn’t like when we call him Captain either.”

“All I’m saying is that, out of all of us, you seem to cause the most chaos.”

“I cause chaos?! We literally went to j-”

As you spoke, Sam’s arm shot out in front of you. The touch stopped you mid-stride, but that was not what knocked the air from your lungs. It was the feeling of his hand on your waist, how his large palm brushed against your side. His forearm pressed against your abdomen, holding you still and in a warmth that pushed the English chill around you to the side. It was only when a car roared past you both that you found a foothold back in reality.

“There you go, proving my point,” Sam said, meeting your eyes. When he noted your slightly slack jaw and wide eyes, Sam’s demeanor shifted. He moved to stand in front of you, hands lightly gripping your arms. “Are you hurt?”

“I, no. I’m...sorry.”

A moment of quiet passed between you. Your gazes remained fixed on the others, trying to read past each other’s furrowed brows and confusion. After the white-noise of the quiet township faded back into focus, a small grin began to play on Sam’s lips. For a winding second, you wondered if he was going to kiss you; a strange, fleeting thought that left your mind as soon as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Your life flash before your eyes? You think of that sandwich?”

At his teasing questions, the haze that Sam’s touch casted lifted like the dark clouds that trailed Summer storms. Any intrusive thought fled along with the feeling and you were left with your senses returned. Gently, you pushed at Sam’s shoulders and forced him to step back. He did easily with his eyes still fixed on you.

Despite the fact there were hardly any people in the little village, you hurried across the street, desperate to get out of sight. Sam followed after you, unrelenting in his teasing.

“Aw, c’mon. You did, didn’t you?”

Not wanting to show how much he was getting to you, you kept walking as you replied. “So, maybe I did. Better than dwelling on an empty stomach.”

“Well, maybe you could watch where you walk. A trip to the ER isn’t really keeping a low profile.” You couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder at him as, while there remained a tilt in his mocking tone, there was something cold in his words. When your eyes landed on him, you saw that Sam was no longer grinning.

“You worried about me?” You meant to play into his teasing, get him to smile again, but Sam remained unmoved. You opened your mouth to ask again, but Sam was ready to reply.

“Just don’t want Cap to tell you ‘I told you so’. I’ll never hear the end of that.”

“Especially not if we’re cell neighbors,” you agreed, “again.”

At the mention of your past incarceration, Sam grew cold again. The Raft had been rough, more chilling than the loneliest nights in the quinjet. Even walking, you could see that Sam was revisiting his time there, just as you did in your darkest moments. His eyes were downcast on the sidewalk, until you took his arm.

His dark eyes lifted and met your gaze. For the first time since The Raft, you saw how truly tired Sam looked. You gave him a half smile, as it was all you could muster. Sam returned the expression as you moved to link your arm in his. Joined at the elbow, you began to lead him down the sidewalk, eyeing the facades of the shoppes as you went.

“Let’s find something to eat.”

“Another sandwich adventure?” Sam asked, a smile in his voice. Sure enough, when you glanced at him, you saw his lips were slightly more upturned.

“Maybe. What are you hungry for?”

“Nothing overwhelmingly English. No crumpets,” he shook his head, “things look like spongey hockey pucks.”

You stifled a laugh as you led him past what looked like a yarn shop. Threads of all colors mingled in spools and bundles in the windows. An older gentleman worked at the counter, glasses perched on the curve of his nose. He seemed to sense you and Sam as you strode past the store because, in a flash, he looked up.

Immediately, you fixed your gaze forward and tensed.

“What is it?” Sam asked, his voice low.

“Old guy, the shop we just walked by. I think we’re clear though.”

“You think? I need better than you think, Y/N/N.”

At the sound of Sam’s nickname for you, you relaxed in your stride. Taking advantage of the momentary ease, you glanced over your shoulder. You swore you saw someone poke their head outside of a doorway. Quickly, you turned your gaze forward again.

“Just keep moving.” Sam scoffed at your tone, but his arm tightened around yours.

“No shit, keep moving,” he said softly, only for your ears. “Move right back to the jet. We can loop back around, turn right up the road, and-”

“Excuse me!” You and Sam kept moving. “Excuse me! You two!”

You stopped in your tracks and, despite his extra step forwards, so did Sam. He grumbled something about running, but you knocked your shoulder against his to quiet him. Together, you turned around to find a plump, short woman with bright orange hair waving in your direction with one hand while the other held out a platter of biscuits.

You and Sam glanced at each other as she approached. He raised his brows at you, sending a silent message. Be ready for take off. You nodded, lifting your free hand to grip his arm in case he broke off in a sprint. Sam was faster than you, wings or no wings. He wouldn't leave you behind.

“Are you the Bridgers? The American couple that wanted to see the building?” The woman grinned at you and Sam, at your cocked heads and quirked brows. “I noticed you looking at the different shoppes. It’s a hidden gem, 784 Branbury, but it’s a good one!”

“Oh, I think that you-” Sam began, but you squeezed his bicep tight to stop him. He glanced at you, eyes squinted in question; but your gaze flickered between the smiling woman’s face and the plate of cookies she held out to you.

“Yes, we are the Bridgers. Everything here is so...quaint. We just got a little awe-struck and, well, lost.” You looked over at Sam who, still confused, eyed you warily.

“We did?”

“We did,” you confirmed, squeezing his arm again.

“You did,” the woman echoed. “Well, that’s quite alright. Here, follow me and you can help yourselves to these once we get inside. It’s really quite a nice place, all the furnishings and…”

The realtor rattled off on all the amenities of the building, but you were too busy dragging Sam in after her to truly hear what she was saying. He held back, legs locked in place and your arm slipped from his. The woman did not notice as you and Sam fell behind. Instead she wandered inside the building, still chattering away.

“What are you doing?” He asked, hands on his hips. You couldn’t help as you smiled at the sight.

“Causing chaos,” you replied as you reached for his arm once more. “And getting a cookie. Let’s go, Mr. Bridgers.”

Much to your surprise, Sam acquiesced. With ease, you led him inside the quaint storefront that, according to Ms. Verner, the cookie-holding realtor, had recently been remodeled in the cottage style. Exposed wood and wicker lined aspects of the decor, the darkest oak wonderfully offset by the white accents of the window sills and curtains. It all smelled faintly of varnish that was nearly masked by the scent of baked goods and treats that you and Sam immediately sought out. With her platter nearly cleared, and your stomachs sated, Ms. Verner busied herself by feeding her own curiosity.

“We don’t get many Americans about here. Why the interest in this property, if you don’t mind me asking such a thing?”

Searing panic rushed through your veins. You quickly peeled your eyes from the kitchenette that rested in a pristine, untouched state across from where you stood in the living room. Sam, with a half-eaten cookie in hand, glanced at you, read your wide eyes and slightly parted lips. Your ability to bullshit was misfiring. He needed to pick up the slack.

“Vacationing,” Sam replied tersely, “we come across the pond a lot. Hotels get….expensive, so this place might be cheaper in the long run, if we keep coming back to the UK. We haven’t...done the math yet.”

Ms. Verner nodded quickly in agreement. “Oh, yes! I see! Perhaps home owning will keep you ‘coming back’, as you said. I do believe that the monthly mor-”

Just as the redheaded realtor was about to dive off the edge into another tangent, a shrill beeping filled the space. Ms. Verner reached towards her pantsuit pocket and fumbled for her phone. You took advantage of the distraction to mouth a ‘thank you’ to Sam. In return, he gave you the softest smile you had ever seen. The sight sent a fluttering to your stomach.

“Hello there, Dorothy Verner speaking. I see, the property on 5th. One moment.” Ms. Verner pulled herself from her phone call and glanced apologetically between you and Sam. “Realtor duty calls, you know. Please, take a look upstairs. I’ll be right outside the door.”

Phone pressed to her ear, Ms. Verner stride out of the front door, leaving you both to the comfortable warmth of 784 Branbury. When the door shut with a secure click behind her, you glanced over at Sam. He met your gaze and gestured to the space around you with the hand that held his leftover cookie.

“We should go.”

“Why? We can't entertain the reality of the Bridgers?” You crossed your arms over your chest and gave him a nod. “You seem to be enjoying the perks.”

Sam frowned before he tossed his half-eaten biscuit in the trash bin tucked by the sofa. The quiet stretched on, heavy between you. When he finally made a sound, it was a gentle rustling as he moved. It felt as if you were back in the cold confines of The Raft.

You half expected to see Sam pace as he did before. He would rub at his bearded chin, caught deep in thought as you had watched his shadow on the metal floor. It was all you could see of him: the only comfort you found in your cell was knowing he was in his own, knowing that he shared a wall with you despite it all. Though, now, it was as if he were a ghost.

“Sam, what is it?”

He lifted his eyes to yours and, in their darkness, you saw the depth of his sadness. “It’s not our life, our lives.”

“You’re right,” you admitted, “we’re strangers, not the Bridgers.”

Slowly, you took a few steps towards him. As you drew near, Sam’s eyes traced over your face. You gave him a soft smile in the hopes of raising his spirits. He seemed to respond, his lips quirking upwards ever so faintly. Encouraged by the sight, you held your hand out to him.

“But we can pretend for a little while. Pretend like we’re not wanted criminals, right?”

He raised a dark brow at you. “As long as we’re careful.”

“Yes, fine, Captain,” you agreed, rolling your eyes. “Now, let’s see the upstairs. Shall we?”

“We gotta do our due diligence,” Sam replied, playing along with your little make believe. He took your extended hand, completely enveloping your palm and fingers with his. You took an unsteady breath and you nodded. Before you could totally recover, spit out some witty retort, Sam was guiding you up to the second level of 784 Branbury.

Recently redone, the wooden stairs hardly creaked as you and Sam ascended. If they did, you were too lost in the feeling of Sam’s skin on yours to note it. However, it was impossible to miss the rumbling laugh that rose up from Sam’s chest.

“These guys owned the place? Uppity white people.”

“Uppity?” You paused on the stairs, halting Sam along with you. He gestured to the family portraits that lined the walls. A nauseatingly nuclear family clad in matching outfits lingered in the frames. Wide smiles were plastered on their faces.

“They're wearing v-neck sweaters! They probably did the pinky thing.” As he elaborated, Sam, with his free hand, mimicked the motions of sipping a cup of tea with his pinky extended out in the air. “The pinky thing.”

“So, they had manners? They were civilized?”

“Sure,” Sam sighed, his hand slipping from yours as he continued to climb up the stairs. “Had all the privilege too.”

You watched him go and turn into the nearest open doorway before you glanced back to the family in the photos. In the abstract, you yearned for the happiness they presented, the peace: the domesticity. It was easy to imagine, to pretend, in their little house. You and Sam were the Bridgers, on holiday, planning out a future together.

“As if,” you whispered to yourself as you pushed that make-believe future from your mind. Quickly, you traced Sam’s trail and peeked into the first open doorway.

You expected to see him stood there, mocking the decor (the lace curtains in particular), but he was no longer there. With furrowed brows you took in the tacky wallpaper before returning to the hallway of portraits. You stepped into the next open door way only to find an empty bedroom. A large, king bed was perfectly made, untouched like the kitchenette. Life wonderfully frozen in time.

The lace curtains hung around the window, blowing in the gentle breeze that danced through the screen. Grey sheets were as soft as feathers as you trailed your fingertips along them. When was the last time you slept in a bed? When you were comfortable?

You couldn’t recall. The last time you had a stable place to sleep was on The Raft, where Sam’s shadow had been your only solace. Your stomach twisted at the memory, drove you to turn your back on the bed, the sweet promise of sleep.

“Sam?”

“In here!” You followed the call of Sam’s voice down the hall. It seemed to come from the farthest room on the right.

When you turned, poked your head through the open doorway, you saw Sam stood in the middle of the room. He didn’t turn to face you, but Sam’s gaze fell to the floor as you took in the space. Soft tones of blue paint coated the walls, but it was the faint scent of baby powder and shampoo that gave away the room. A nursery.

“I got two nephews at home,” Sam said as you stepped inside. “I helped my sister paint the nursery the first time. Teddy bear wallpaper on one wall. It didn’t last long. The boys crayoned right over them, gave some mustaches too.”

“Creative,” you mused, moving to stand at his side. Sam’s eyes lifted from the fuzzy rugged floor to meet your gaze. That sadness had returned. “You miss them.”

“I do, and my sister. Home.”

“You’ll see them again, once things...settle.”

“Settle? Things don’t settle for us,” he began, “they always go, go, go. Once we’re done here, done pretending, it’s back to running again. I’m tired, Y/N.”

“But we can’t just be tired, not even for a second.”

“Exactly,” Sam agreed, his dark eyes searching yours before he glanced around the blue nursery. “Can’t even pretend for very long, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.”

You reached out a careful hand and grabbed his shoulder. Sam glanced back to you as your thumb rubbed gently into the fabric of his shirt. You stared back at him, searching for the right words somewhere in his features. Instead, you found yourself lost in him.

“I want to pretend, with you,” Sam murmured. There was no playful, teasing grin or dower coldness in his face that lessened the blow of his words. It was all serious, Sam was serious, and it made your heart flutter in your chest.

“I do too,” you thought back to the pictures of the family in the hall, “but not what could’ve been, not in some different life.”

“You don’t want to be a Bridgers?” There was that teasing grin, though it was more mild than you were expecting. You let your hand fall from his shoulder, but his fingers wrapped gently around your wrist before it rested back at your side.

“No,” you replied, mirroring his smile.

“Just want to be us, then? What could be in our lives?” Sam’s dark eyes flickered down to your lips before returning to your gaze. “I’m cool with that.”

“You are? Well, that’s great to hear,” you teased. “Maybe you could-”

Sam’s lips pressed against yours before you could continue. You melted into his touch. He pulled you softly to him by your wrist, with his other hand reaching up to cup your face. The coarse hair of his goatee nipped at your skin, coaxing your smile into the kiss. Silently, you hoped that the true pair of Bridgers were still running late to their viewing of their prospective holiday house. That way, you and Sam could pretend for a little while longer.

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doiefy · 3 years

Text

blue // na jaemin

“The winter has passed and the spring has come We have withered and our hearts are bruised from longing”

- blue, bigbang

In which one ceases to age until they find their soulmate, with whom they then grow old. In which everyone has moved on without you.

genre: soulmate!au, fluff, angst, slow burn

pairings: jaemin x female reader (written with a female character in mind, but it can easily be gender neutral!), features relationships with other dream members, briefly mentions haechan x jeno

word count: 11.6 k

warnings: language, mentions of alcohol and smoking, mentions of war, mentions of death, discussions of Korea under Japanese occupation, some of the historical references may be inaccurate.

taglist (DM, comment or Ask to be added): @simplicitysbabe Big thank you to @neojaems for beta reading this for me !! <333

spotify playlist

Your test comes back blue.

When you rip open the envelope containing your results, you find the little coloured square hidden between pages and pages of lab protocols, testing procedures and other nonsense you know no one actually has the time to read. Then there are the stupid pamphlets, the ones with overtly bright and bubbly messages reassuring people that they’ll find their “special someone” soon, slogans most likely written by people who found their soulmates before they even turned twenty. You scoff, shoving the useless papers back into the envelope and recalling the first time you tested back in 1945, right after the war. The receptionist wrote your results down on a piece of paper and nonchalantly told you to have your emotional breakdown outside.

Now you stare at the blue marking on your paper blankly. It simply means you haven’t aged biologically in ten years, but when you haven’t aged in decades, it means nothing. While the world progresses, you remain frozen in the same body, playing a cruel game with fate. And as with any game that one cannot win, you’ve slowly become bored with it, allowing it to take its course while you sit idle nearby. You feel only disappointed, and not even perplexed or surprised in the slightest. Something about meeting Jaemin just seemed too good to be true; after a lifetime of misfortune and failure, something about the bad news feels… expected. Inevitable. As if unconsciously, you knew he wasn’t the one.

Na Jaemin is not your soulmate. And you spend the walk home contemplating how you’ll tell him this.

When you unlock the door to your shared apartment, you know he’s already home, and earlier than usual: his shoes are placed meticulously on the rack by the door and his jacket is hung up next to the messenger bag he takes to work. The living room smells faintly of the pine and vanilla candle you bought last month, and you smell traces of shampoo and bodywash from the bathroom.

“I’m home!” you call out as you kick your shoes off and put them neatly next to Jaemin’s. There’s a muffled response of your name before the door to your room opens. Then his arms are around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he mumbles a tired greeting.

“Bad day?” You ask softly, pushing all your other thoughts to the back of your head. He looks exhausted. His hair is tucked messily under the hood of his navy sweater, still damp from the shower he took earlier. His eyes lack the usual brightness you often find yourself so immersed in, replaced with the fatigue and weariness he almost never brings home.

“I hate this company,” he sighs as you run your fingers through his hair. You feel him relax in your arms a bit. “My boss is a dick, everyone in my department hates each other and the coffee tastes like actual ass. Maybe I should just quit while I still can.”

You frown. “Jaem, you’ve been with them for literally a month. You can’t possibly be thinking about quitting already.”

“A month! A month in and I’m already having mental breakdowns under my desk at lunch. Imagine what will become of me if I spend a year there,” he scowls, but his expression softens when you kiss him reassuringly on the cheek. “Alright, alright, fine, maybe not quit, maybe I’ll just take a long, long, vacation and then retire… Move to the countryside with you…” He trails off dreamily and for a moment, you lose yourself in the fantasy he’s painted for you. The mental image of a quaint house by the ocean is quickly shattered when you remember the test results hidden in your bag. The sunflowers you envisioned surrounding the cottage are blown away in the wind, their bright yellow petals swallowed by the blueness of the sky.

“Oh, you wish,” you laugh, quickly pressing your lips to his in hopes that he won’t see your expression, that he won’t see the sadness and regret you’re fighting to suppress. “Maybe, baby, maybe one day we can do that.”

“Maybe,” he laughs, his face lighting up with the energy and liveliness that has been missing. “But enough about me. How was your day, love?”

“Mm. The same old,” you say, pulling out of his arms so you can finally take your jacket off. You crash into the couch where you fold up your scarf and toss it aside. “Stressful.”

He stares at you for a hard moment, visibly concerned as if he can tell there’s something troubling on your mind. “Is something the matter?” He asks carefully, sitting down next to you. He holds you at arm’s length so he can look at you properly. “Is this about the test?”

“What? Oh, no, not the test. I doubt the results will come in until sometime next week.” The lie slips out easier than it should, and you feel guilt slowly start to twist your insides. Just a white lie, you tell yourself. It can’t hurt anyone but yourself. He’s been through enough today. He’s tired. Not tonight. It can wait. “I’m just tired,” you shrug. “I need some dinner and a nap, then I’ll be all good again. Do we still have anything in the fridge or should we order takeout?”

“I already ordered chicken from Yong’s. I had a feeling that today would be a bad day for the both of us,” Jaemin grins. His smile is smug at first, then endearing when he sees your shock.

You practically pounce on him in excitement, and the two of you go crashing into the couch cushions until you have him pinned beneath you. “Oh my god, I fucking love you, you know that?”

Jaemin groans, curling into himself as he gives you a wounded look. “And that’s how you show your love? By trying to break my bones?”

“Besides the point,” you huff. “You aren’t going to say it back?”

“Yes, of course. I love you too.”

Unsatisfied with his answer, you lower your face so your lips are hovering just inches above his. He looks up at you starry-eyed, his fingers ghosting over your cheeks; you can’t help but notice the way his gaze travels briefly to your lips.

Then you realize how dangerous this is. You know that he’s not the one. You know that you’ll eventually part ways with him when he finds out, no matter how reluctant you’ll feel. Every moment you spend with him like this will come back to haunt you when he’s gone. It will become another reminder of what you’re about to lose, yet here you are, falling deeper into his embrace, intoxicated by his scent and lost in the depth of his eyes. You are only tying more strings between the two of you, strings that will need to be stretched and snapped. You are only making it more painful for the both of you.

But for tonight, you don’t care.

“Say it like you mean it,” you whisper.

He holds your face gently, and those sparks you felt upon your first meeting with him are still there, igniting each time he looks at you, blazing into an open flame when he tells you, “I love you.”

You kiss him with more urgency this time, your lips meeting his in a clash of teeth and tongue. He puts his hands around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer to him. For just a moment, you’re focused on only him and his presence. For just a moment, you forget about everything; the sheet of test results is just another piece of paper in your bag, the blue mark just another colour. Because tonight, he is all that matters to you.

You met Na Jaemin almost three years ago.

Though the details have faded with time, you remember your first conversation well. It began at a friend’s art show beneath the golden glow of the studio lights, the two of you surrounded by brilliant splashes of colour and bold strokes of texture. Renjun had insisted on introducing you to Jaemin before you even arrived at the gallery, and you couldn’t have possibly refused. Your friendship with Renjun goes way back to the 40s, and you often think he knows you better than you know yourself. “I think he could be good for you,” he told you quietly just before leaving to speak with his other guests.

At first, Jaemin seemed timeless. It was as if he didn’t belong to any particular time period, as if he had lived to see several generations rise and fall, but had never risen or fallen with any of them. Dressed elegantly in a fitted turtleneck and a wool coat, he appeared youthful and contemporary; yet the way he spoke hinted at a certain maturity, at wisdom and sagacity. There was something charming about him too, something about the way he recounted events of the past and drew you in with only his words.

Next to a breathtaking oil painting of the sea, you discovered your commonalities. He was almost two decades younger, but like you, had spent his entire life searching for a partner without much success. You were delighted to learn that he had also worked in teaching—though he mentioned changing careers frequently whenever things became too mundane. He was effortlessly intriguing, and every word he spoke was lively and animated. He infused your conversations with colours, painted everything in bright yellows and aquamarines that matched the swirling paint strokes of the artworks around you, left you wanting to know more without even trying.

You left the gallery that night with his number in your coat pocket. Needless to say, Renjun was thrilled.

Weeks passed before you saw him again. Your busy schedules always managed to get in the way of your plans, but the two of you still kept in touch, chatting late into the night and well into the early hours. As the months went by, you dared to hope that maybe he was the one.

You immediately scolded yourself for being naive. With all your past partners, you had been hopeful in the same way, only to be let down in the end. Your test when you were with Donghyuck came back blue, as did the one with Mark. Both have since moved on, found their soulmates and written their happy endings. Even if you still stay in touch and meet up for an occasional coffee, you know that you are only a distant memory to them in some way or another.

The prospect of the same thing happening with Jaemin had never occurred to you—you’d been so caught up in getting to know him, so blinded that you’d completely forgotten. And then you saw him differently. As if he were a flame that could be snuffed out in an instant, a feather that could be sent flying with the slightest breeze, the slightest breath. You mulled over it for weeks and always did so silently, until it finally came up in conversation.

Almost a year had passed since you’d met him. With the summer coming to an end, the two of you had driven down to the Han River where you sat in the open trunk of his car, sharing a can of cheap beer from the convenience store. There were no words, only the faint melody of an old pop song buzzing from your phone and his hand around yours.

“Move in with me,” he said at last, glancing at you expectantly, trying to gauge your reaction. It wasn’t completely out of the blue—you’d been searching for a new apartment for weeks—but it still took you by surprise. “Too fast?” He asked when he registered your shock.

“No, not at all,” you shook your head and squeezed his hand. “Don’t get me wrong Jaem, I’d love to. It’s just, I don’t know about any of this. About us. If we’re actually…”

He hummed a quiet response, his brows furrowing slightly in contemplation. “Soulmates,” he said with a melancholic sigh. “You don’t want to go any further before we know for certain. I understand.”

You nodded. “It always hurts, you know? You think you’ve finally found them only to realize you’ve been completely wrong the whole time.”

“I know,” he said, and his empathy flooded you with warmth and reassurance. “You always think you’ll be prepared for the next time. You always think it will hurt less as time goes by. But it doesn’t.”

“Exactly.”

You tipped the last of the beer into your mouth; it tasted faintly sweet on your tongue before dissolving into a pleasant bitterness that hit the back of your throat. When you were finished, Jaemin took the empty can and fiddled with the tab, bending it back and forth until it snapped off.

“I want it to be you,” he told you after a few minutes of silence. “I want it to be us.”

“And if we aren’t?”

He kissed you, hard enough for you to see stars. It wasn’t desperate or longing, but it seemed to convey a hundred different thoughts all at once, a hundred different emotions for you to decipher. When he finally pulled away, his voice was thoughtful and he was seemingly lost in a pleasant daydream. “Oh, love, the universe has already cursed us to search eternally. We may as well spend eternity together.”

“Seriously, Jaemin, what if we aren’t?”

The tremor of your voice snapped him out of it. The glimmer of hope disappeared from his pupils and the dream slipped from his hands.

“We’ve been alive for so long,” you continued, trying to keep your voice steady. “I don’t think I can go on like this. What if we aren’t meant to be? What will we do?”

You didn’t regret your time with Donghyuck or Mark or Jungwoo or any of the people you were lucky enough to have met, but you’d watched all of them from afar, watched them grow while you stayed frozen in time. Each new generation that came along was only a reminder of your loneliness. You felt a certain emptiness each time you invited new people into your life, one that deepened when they eventually left you behind. Or worse, when they gave you their pity. You couldn’t stand it when people told you that it was unfair or that you deserved better, all while they lived comfortably with their soulmates. You weren’t jealous, nor could you ever be angry at them for something beyond their control. Your anger was directed at the invisible forces that toyed with the world, the mischievous hands spinning the universe in some strange direction that left only you disoriented.

His expression took on a faint sadness and when he spoke again, his voice was calm, barely a whisper. “Then so be it. If you need to move on, it would be selfish of me to stop you from doing so.” He stared out at the waters wistfully, at the yachts sailing downstream. “And besides, you’re right. Maybe it’s time we settle down… even if it’s not with each other.”

Your birthday came a few months after that night, but you held off on testing. The bus you took home from work passed by one of the labs, but you never got off at the stop, always watched the doors open and close from your seat. The test isn’t that accurate anyways, you told yourself; it could produce only an approximate biological age, so maybe the longer you waited, the better.

But in the end, it was simply an excuse to escape reality, to avoid your confrontation with fate itself.

You moved in with him just before the end of the year.

New Year’s Eve wasn’t a big deal for you (you’d lived through too many for it to be exciting), but you spent the last minutes of the year with him, surrounded by cardboard boxes waiting to be unpacked. Jaemin had still made some sort of effort at festivities despite your indifference: pale pink and gold candles lit around the living room, golden champagne in delicate glasses set on the table.

You were almost asleep when the clock struck twelve, wrapped up in one of his oversized sweaters and a white throw blanket. The celebratory music blaring from the TV was muffled in your ears, a pleasant symphony that lulled you deeper into sleep until Jaemin awoke you with a kiss.

“Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, Jaem,” you mumbled, a smile ghosting your lips as you focused on the comfort you felt in his arms; on the new year, on your new home, new hope.

You know something’s wrong.

Jaemin doesn’t come out to greet you, even after you announce your arrival. He’s home—his shoes and coat are put away neatly like any other day—yet it’s deathly silent, terribly still. No music playing in the living room, no voice down the hallway. Only the occasional chirp from your broken smoke detector, which you’ve been meaning to fix for weeks. As you bend down to unlace your boots, you can’t help but worry.

You find him in your shared bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the comforter. The sun has almost set and the shadows stretch across the room, blanketing him in darkness and masking his expression with ambiguity. He doesn’t move when you turn on the lamp on the bedside table. He doesn’t move when you sit next to him.

There’s a familiar sheet of paper in his hands.

“Jaem, I…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

It isn’t accusatory or hostile; his voice is laced with nothing but sadness, yet you feel so much guilt, guilt that closes around your throat and squeezes the air out of your lungs, leaving you breathless. You kept it from him for days, and now this is the way he must find out about it. From a piece of paper you were careless enough to leave where he might find it. From a piece of paper detailing the DNA extracted from a sample of your blood. You should have told him.

“I didn’t know how to,” you let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you serious?” There it is, the cold edge that begins creeping into his voice as he stares down at you. He flicks a finger in the direction of the date printed at the top of the paper. “It’s been a week, Y/N. You kept this from me for a week. Why?”

“I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you, okay?” It comes out sharper than you intended; you immediately begin to drown in guilt as soon as you see Jaemin’s expression fall. You didn’t mean to lash out, and now you make up for it by taking his hands in yours. They're ice cold. “Look, the day I found out, you were already tired from work. I didn’t want to bring it up and make everything worse—”

“So you lied. Said the results hadn’t come in yet,” he says flatly and you rush to defend yourself, only to realize that he’s right.

“I’m sorry.”

The rest of your words don’t come. With a tired exhale, you bury your head in your hands, too overwhelmed to say anything else. You can only hope that he’ll understand, that he’ll empathize and that he’ll forgive you, even if you don’t exactly believe you deserve any of it right now. You hold back the tears. Only when he pulls you into his arms do they fall. He takes your hands, gently pulling them away from your face so he can wipe your tears despite your protests. There’s no coldness in his expression now, only concern.

“I needed time to process everything,” you continue, but you choke on the words. “I couldn’t even accept it myself, I couldn’t—”

“I know, love,” he says quietly as his thumb brushes against your cheek. “I know. It’s alright.”

Your silent sniffles turn into unrestrained sobs as he pulls you into his embrace, your pent-up emotions finally released in the form of silvery streams on your cheeks. You aren’t sure how much time passes. The sun meets the horizon in a hazy line of faint pink and orange. The sky darkens. Outside, the city lights up in a multitude of hues, the amber light from the street below seeping into your room. The minutes go by, but Jaemin never lets go of you until your tears have run dry.

“Better?” He asks, albeit his voice is shaky, his gaze trembling when he looks up at you. You nod.

“We’ll figure this out,” his eyes seem to say. You can tell he’s just as terrified as you are, just as unsure and as lost. Though for now, you simply hold each other. You say nothing about the paper that lays discarded on the floor or what it entails, even if you both feel the need to address it, to face its implications. In this moment of brokenness, neither of you have the strength to do so.

You eventually collect yourselves. You make dinner and force yourselves to eat before passing a meaningless hour in front of the TV. You clean up, wash up. Sleep early in preparation for tomorrow. Jaemin never leaves your side.

“Where do we go from here?” You whisper into the darkness of your bedroom.

“Tomorrow, love,” you hear him say just before slipping into unconsciousness, into restless sleep.

According to Lee Donghyuck, the chances of meeting your soulmate are 1 in 10 000. Or at least, scientifically. Theoretically. Donghyuck was a man of logic and reason, and had your lives not revolved around soulmates like the earth revolved around the sun, perhaps he wouldn’t have believed in fate at all.

“Remove fate from the equation,” Donghyuck mumbled to himself thoughtfully, jotting a few numbers down on a paper napkin. “And let’s assume your soulmate is around your age.”

“Can’t you rule that one out too?” You pointed out, but he was too busy, already lost in his thoughts.

“If your soulmate is determined at birth and instantly recognizable at first sight… And they’re actually alive somewhere in the world…”

You watched the quick movements of his blue pen with intrigue. He spun the pen restlessly, allowing its barrel to cross over and under and between his fingers, at times so quickly that it became nothing but a blur of colour. Finally, he scribbled a final verdict and inked two definitive circles around it. “If fate hadn’t been so kind, the chances would have been one in ten thousand. One lifetime out of ten thousand.”

“That slim? Ten thousand lifetimes, that’s nearly impossible,” you said, skeptical but amused at his train of thought nonetheless. You took the napkin from him and looked over his calculations, though some of the numbers were too big for you to check without a calculator. You trusted that Donghyuck had done them correctly though. “You know, if you told that to someone who’d spent a century searching for their soulmate, they’d probably beat you up. You’re lucky I like you.”

He giggled. “We’re lucky it’s only hypothetical.” He took the napkin from you and crumpled it, smudging the neon blue ink on the tips on his fingers.

With Donghyuck, things were simpler. He was young, young enough to not be in a hurry, young enough to speak his thoughts so freely. He never pitied you or worried about offending you, and he never treated you as if you were out of place among the new generations. He offered you perspective. You knew that you weren’t meant for each other, but you were still content to spend your time with each other. To wait together.

“So… I might have found a new place.”

You don’t miss the surprise on Jaemin’s face when you tell him over dinner. His eyes widen a bit in curiosity, his brows arching upwards and his mouth falling slightly agape. He sets his fork down against his plate, folding his hands together the way he does when he’s deep in thought.

“Already?” He inquires. Maybe you imagine a hint of disappointment in his voice, a slight dip in his tone. He looks at you with a sort of sadness, as if trying to imagine what it would be like with you gone, to come home to an empty apartment every night. “Seriously, Y/N, you’re welcome to stay if you need to. We said we would take the changes slowly.” His words aren’t just out of consideration for you.

More than a month has gone by silently, and within that time, the frigid cold of winter has finally given way to spring. Nothing has really changed when you think about it, as if your test results are meaningless. And you suppose that they have become just that, a meaningless scrap of paper at the bottom of the recycling bin in the kitchen. Jaemin still holds you the same way, though his touches are just a little bit more fleeting. Your conversations still extend late into the night, though they feel just slightly melancholic. You hang onto his every word even while telling yourself not to, that maybe there is no point in doing so when everything is already coming to an end.

“I don’t know if I’ll take it… at least not for sure. And even if I do, I won’t be moving in until April. I just thought I’d tell you ahead of time,” you tell him, reaching across the table to take his hand. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I think I need some time alone. So I can adjust to all of this.”

“No, I understand. It’s just a little jarring, you know? Don’t know what it’ll be like without you here.”

“It’s literally only a block away,” you giggle, and he smiles. “I’ll still be here.”

After the coolness of February comes grey skies and a drizzly March, heavy rainfall washing the white snow to grey slush. Eventually, the clouds part across the sky for the sun, allowing the brilliant blue of the sky to peek through. April comes sooner than expected, producing blooms of yellow and white in the flowery courtyards of your new apartment complex, bursts of bright colours along the cobblestone paths.

You stand surrounded by boxes in the middle of your new studio apartment, watching the people pass by on the streets below. The windows are cracked open for air and you can hear the bustle outside, the yells of the street vendors, an occasional shriek of a child’s laughter. The new bedframe and mattress you ordered stand leaning against the wall in the corner, waiting to be assembled. Jaemin stumbles through the door with another box and sets it down before dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“That’s the last one,” he says. He collapses on the couch that the previous owner left behind, out of breath. You sit down next to him, allowing him to rest his head on your lap. He finally looks around, then at you. “Everything you hoped for?”

You nod happily. “I’ll miss having you around though,” you chuckle, playing with the soft strands of his hair, freshly dyed—after losing a drunken bet to Renjun a week ago, he reluctantly let the latter bleach and tone his hair bright silver. But you think it suits him; it accentuates the darkness of his eyes and paleness of his skin, gives him a cold and chic edge offset by the gentleness of his smile.

“I’ll still be here,” he repeats your words from two months ago. “And you’ll be much closer to work, right? No more crazy subway routes and early mornings. At the cost of me being your personal alarm clock, of course.” He grins, and you smack him with a red throw pillow.

“I won’t miss that,” you roll your eyes teasingly.

“Whatever you say, love.” He lifts his head off your lap to press a kiss against your cheek.

You spend the rest of the afternoon with him, unpacking boxes, hanging up clothes, building the bedframe and fitting the mattress with clean sheets so that at least you’ll have somewhere to sleep tonight. When the sun sets, everything is lit in an ethereal glow, and you stare out the floor-length windows, admiring the sky. Jaemin joins you after a moment, wrapping his arms around you as the two of you rock back and forth to the steady rhythm of the music playing from his phone.

When he leaves in the evening, he gives you a final hug, jokingly telling you not to miss him too much. When he’s gone, you find yourself staring out the window once more, at the blocky silhouette of Jaemin’s building a few blocks away. He pointed it out earlier, thrilled that you could see so far from this high up.

You quickly learn that on cloudy days, it is nothing but a smudge of grey in the distance.

While Donghyuck always tried to ease your worries with reason and strokes of pen ink on his skin, Mark took you on long drives around the city, hoping that the wind blowing through your hair would clear your mind.

On late nights when you couldn’t sleep, you often found yourself in the passenger seat of his 1975 Hyundai Pony, listening to static-laced 80s rock music while he drove you around the streets of Seoul. He would always roll the windows down in the summer and watch the contentment on your face, one hand around yours while the other guided the wheel.

Mark Lee was even older than you—and with all the wars and tragedies he’d lived through, he understood what it felt like to be kept awake by the nightmares. To be kept awake by thoughts of loved ones being blown to bits, to be haunted with memories of the past. With how long he’d been searching for the right person, he knew the urgency you felt and the longing to finally settle down with a soulmate. He understood.

The stories he told you were woven between puffs of cigarette smoke and gentle kisses on your forehead. He told you about Canada and the mountains that surrounded Vancouver, where he’d spent some time in the 40s. He told you about his family, about his brother’s grandchildren who looked older than he did. It was strange, he’d admitted with a small laugh and sadness in his smile.

The two of you often pointed out buildings along the side of the road, reminiscing what stood in their place before the bulldozers and big trucks rolled in. Just down the street from his apartment, the old drive-in cinema was being replaced by an upscale theatre. Next to it, a park was being cleared for a new shopping centre. Even the studio he’d rented out last summer had been demolished so a new entertainment agency could build its empire. Once in a while, he would drive by and stare ruefully at the construction site—the classical compositions he’d once recorded there were being replaced by a new type of music, with catchy beats and pretty pop stars dressed in shiny outfits.

His music had been drowned out by a new industry, and likewise, many of the things you remembered from your childhood have been lost to time. Talking about the past with him helped you remember. It was a sort of reassurance even as you moved on.

Mark eased a bit of your pain, staying out with you until the early hours of morning to make sure that you were alright. The next morning, he would almost always call to ask if you’d slept okay, unless there was an issue with the old landline phone in his office. All concept of time disappeared when you were with him, along with your memories and the demons haunting your dreams. But eventually, he would drop you off at home and bid you goodnight, leaving you to watch him drive away. Eventually, the night came to an end.

He couldn’t stay with you the whole night, nor could he stay with you forever.

Your evenings are often interrupted by Jaemin’s messages asking you to come over. Sometimes he says that he misses you, or he wants to see you for dinner. Other times, he kisses you breathless against the closed door as soon as you’ve stepped inside, always with an unmatched fervour and urgency as if you might slip right through his grasp and disappear.

Tonight, however, it’s neither.

It’s half past midnight when your phone is set off in a series of quick vibrations. Wrapped in nothing but a towel with your hair still dripping, you type in a reply, hesitate, press send. You get changed, slipping into a pair of jeans and an oversized T-shirt before grabbing your keys.

Jaemin is uncharacteristically quiet when he opens the door for you, his gaze downcast so you can’t see his expression. He’s deteriorating; you can see it in the way he turns his back to you after locking the door, the way he walks inside with a halfhearted invitation for you to follow.

“What’s wrong?” You ask when you’ve sat down across from him.

“I think I found them,” he mumbles and you notice how he averts your gaze. “My soulmate, I mean. I think I found her.”

“Wait, then why with the long face? Jaem, that’s great—”

He cuts you off with a sharp bark of emotionless laughter. His expression turns bitter when he pulls his sleeve up to reveal a mark along his wrist: two linear streaks of dark purple that twist together like the centre petals of a rose. He stares at it, almost with contempt. Apart from the standardized DNA tests, markings are the only other way to identify soulmates, though they almost never show. No one has any proper explanation for them and you have no explanation for why Jaemin has one now.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think she’s great. She’s smart. She’s funny. We have the same mark so I know it’s her,” he says shakily. “But god, I must have really fucked up in a past life to deserve this.”

You feel dread. It hits you all at once, because the way Jaemin speaks is so distant and unnerving, as if he’s lost himself in a trance and forgotten all about you. You’ve seen this dazed look before, only twice, when he was truly distressed and truly lost. This isn’t like him.

He found her. He should be happy. You should be happy for him. He should be happy.

“What is it?”

“I think I’m broken. Something’s wrong with me.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, and you try to keep the urgency out of your voice for his sake. He doesn’t say anything. “Jaemin?”

“I don’t feel anything when I’m with her. Nothing.”

You don’t register his words. They don’t make any sense to you. They are barely coherent. No, you think. That can’t be possible.

“Maybe we rejected each other in a past life and then both offed ourselves. Or maybe this is just the universe’s way of saying ‘fuck you.’ Maybe—”

“Stop that,” you tell him firmly. “Whatever this is, there has to be an explanation for it. Marks don’t just appear out of nowhere, right?” You pause to take a shaky breath, suddenly realizing that your words aren’t meant to comfort only him. “We can look into it. We can figure out what’s going on. This is the 21st Century, remember?”

“But what am I even supposed to tell her?” He demands, his tone exasperated and his brows furrowed together. “‘I know you’ve been looking for me for your whole life, but I can’t see you as anything more than a friend, sucks for you’? What do I do, spend the rest of my life drowning in guilt and self-pity because I couldn’t love her the way she wanted me to? Because I could only pretend?”

You have no answers for him. Perhaps he hasn’t felt anything for her because he hasn’t let go of you. Perhaps it really was a mistake, a freak accident in the cosmos that put the wrong marks on the wrong people, designating a pair that was never meant to be. Your thoughts run wild, but you can’t put anything into words for him. Even if you could, you don’t think you would have the strength to say anything aloud.

Instead, you hold him in your arms, wiping away the tears of frustration that have formed at the corners of his eyes, running your fingers through his hair. You can only hope that his soulmate will do the same for him some day, perhaps in some future where the cruel forces watching over you cease their endless games. Genuinely, you hope.

The tone goes off a third time. You glance at the clock across the room: 11 AM. He has to be up by now, you think to yourself as your fingers continue drumming a repetitive rhythm onto the kitchen counter.

“Hello?”

Just before the automated voice can tell you to leave a voicemail, he picks up. Donghyuck’s voice is groggy, as if he’s just woken up—or maybe he’s just about to go to bed. With his disaster of a sleep schedule, you can never be sure.

“Hi, it’s me.”

“Oh hey, you, I know you.” You hear him chuckle on the other end of the line. “How are you, Y/N? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“I’m alright, the usual, I guess. How about you? How’s Jeno?”

“Jeno adopted another cat because he’s fucking insane, so now we have three little furballs running around the house. But yeah, it’s going great! So great,” he drawls with a familiar bite of sarcasm. You smile to yourself. “If he brings home another one because ‘Oh Hyuck, look it’s so cute, can we keep it?’ I will literally choke him in his sleep. Anyways, what’s going on? You never call me.”

“You never pick up,” you huff, earning a small laugh from him. “Okay, I wanted to ask you something. What do you know about soulmate marks?”

Thoughtful silence. “Not much. I mean, I’ve got my theories, but nothing has really been proven. Why, did you get one?”

“No, not me. Jaemin.”

“Oh, Y/N… then that means…”

“It’s alright, don’t concern yourself with me, Donghyuck. I’m more worried about him, honestly.”

“Hm?”

“He found his soulmate recently, but it’s not exactly… it’s not going as expected, let's just say that. He said he feels almost nothing when he’s with her, and to make things worse, apparently now it’s mutual. God, Donghyuck, they’re so awkward with each other, it physically hurts me.”

Donghyuck is silent again, and you hear the faint clicking of his keyboard. You can almost see his contemplative gaze and the soft blue glow of his computer screen lighting his face. “Did they know each other at all before the marks appeared?”

“Yeah, they were coworkers.”

He hums. “Okay… that could be why. Marks have a tendency to appear if soulmates have been around each other for extended periods of time without realizing it. It’s like nature’s way of telling them that the person they’re looking for is right in front of them. As for why they haven’t felt anything for each other? I dunno… reincarnation can really fuck with people. Any previous sentiments for your soulmate stick with you as you pass on, even if you’re both reborn completely different people.”

I must have really fucked up in a past life to deserve this. Jaemin’s words echo in your head.

“Obviously, there’s still opportunity to fix things,” Donghyuck adds quickly before you can get too lost in your thoughts. “It just takes time. Honestly, I wouldn’t be too concerned”

“I know, I know,” you groan. “I’m just upset that after everything he’s gone through, this is the shit he has to deal with.”

“Yeah. I can’t even imagine.” He pauses. “You know, a lot of people would just run off if they were in the same situation. He’s lucky to have you.”

You give a breathless laugh and shrug. “I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

“You never give yourself enough credit,” Donghyuck says, a hint of melancholy to his voice. There’s a sudden noise in the distance that cuts him off, and he curses beneath his breath. “Shit, the new cat’s not trained yet and I think she’s doing something stupid in the kitchen. Jeno will kill me if anything happens to her.”

You suppress a giggle. “Go ahead. We can catch up some other time.”

“Of course. See you, Y/N.”

The line clicks.

If Donghyuck taught you to be hopeful and Mark taught you to be strong, Jungwoo taught you to be brave.

Kim Jungwoo was your first love, and in many ways, you consider him to be irreplaceable. Perhaps it had simply been the result of young naivety back then, but you thought he was unlike any other person you’d ever met. In hindsight, he was different. A bright light dancing his way into your life when you were only a child in the 30s, a free-spirited boy who went where he pleased despite living under such an oppressive regime.

The Kims lived only a few doors down. You frequently saw the boys in their front yard kicking a beat-up soccer ball back and forth between them. Jungwoo was the middle child, and he sat right in front of you in class, his back always perfectly straight against his wooden chair so as to avoid the teachers’ chastisement. He was a quiet boy, and he never said a word unless it was to answer a question. But even then, his voice was small—not exactly shy or scared, just quiet. He quickly learned to raise his voice when the teacher hit him on the back of the hand with a ruler and demanded he speak up, when the wood scraped apart the skin of his knuckles.

At the time, when Japanese was all too foreign on your tongue and you struggled to understand anything taught in class, you thought he was a genius. He always had the right answers when he was called upon and there wasn’t a trace of an accent in either of his languages. Not that you heard him speak Korean much; you didn’t dare speak it unless you were hidden in your own homes, where your parents could discuss the uprisings without having to worry about the police roaming freely outside. Though, they still spoke in hushed voices as if anyone could hear them, as if terrified for what could happen if someone did hear.

The first time you spoke to Jungwoo properly was in middle school. After a humiliating incident at school that left you in tears, he ran to catch up with you on the way home and spoke to you in timid Korean, offering to help. You were still teary-eyed and beyond upset, but you let him guide you through your homework. He rambled to you about the Japanese grammar you couldn’t understand and explained the mistakes you’d made for your teacher to lash out at you the way she had. It didn’t stop you from making the same mistakes the next day, but at least he was patient, unlike the adults at school.

“You’re not stupid,” he told you one afternoon on the way home. Again, you were in tears.

“But the teachers think I am,” you grunted. “And I feel stupid. I can’t understand a word they say. I never have the right answers. Everything I say is wrong. If that’s not stupidity, I don’t know what it is.”

“Y/N, all we do at school is memorize meaningless facts that don’t really matter,” he replied with a shrug. “Just because you can’t shove all that information into your head doesn’t mean that you’re stupid. Look at Doyoung. He was failing school but he’s still one of the smartest people I know. He just… learns differently.”

“So? That doesn’t make me smart either. They still think—”

Jungwoo scoffed. “Who cares what they think? I think you’re wonderful, and they’re the real freaks. Miss Ito, especially.” He wrinkled his nose. “She smells funny.”

“Hey, be nice, Jungwoo,” you chided, but you were laughing. He was effortlessly funny and it was such a pleasant contrast to the way he acted at school. He was always so disciplined and perfect when the adults were watching, but he seemed to let loose around you. It made you feel… special, in a way. Validated, accepted. Something you never felt at school.

You walked home with him almost everyday from then on. You became inseparable, even when your school shut down and sent all the students to gender-segregated schools, even when your parents worried that you were spending too much of your time with him instead of studying. Even when war arrived.

The Second World War plunged your lives into darkness; Jungwoo quickly became the only light to guide you. He was there for you while your parents were away, while they laboured in the factories making helmets and guns and bullets so that they could at least put food on the table. He was there when the light at the end of the tunnel went dim, though he was miles away from home.

Jungwoo had never struck you as a fighter or rebel, even if he had the physique of a soldier. He had the drive and the courage and the steel to fight, but you only saw gentleness in his monthly letters to you. The last letter you received from him still sits in a drawer somewhere, the last words he wrote sealed in a plastic envelope so that they won’t fade away.

You took the test a few months after the war ended, only because he had pleaded with you to do so. Even if I don’t make it home, he wrote to you in the same curving script he’d used to teach you years ago. Promise me.

When the receptionist gave you a piece of paper with an X marked next to your name—there were no colour indicators back then, only X’s and hollow circles—a part of you felt relief that you couldn’t quite explain. Another part of you was disgusted, convinced that you were being selfish and apathetic. You thought that maybe you had no regard for him; that you only cared for yourself and a stranger you were still searching for. He’d risked his life to join the rebel army, fought on the frontlines with the Allies, and you repaid him with nothing.

It would take you years to come to the conclusion that your reaction was only natural. It would take you years to heal and start seeing other people. In due time, you would stop frequenting the church in your hometown and your fingers would cease to brush against the memorial stone in the yard, upon which his name was carved. Just one name among many.

Jaemin’s hands are all over you: in your hair, around your throat, pushing you against the wall as he kisses you. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls on the strands, forcing your head back a bit so he can continue trailing his lips over your neck and collarbones.

“We can’t be doing this,” you tell him when you manage to pull away. His arms come around your waist anyways and he buries his head in the crook of your neck. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, and you glance behind him to see empty soju bottles on the kitchen counter.

“I’m not with Jieun,” he snarls. “Besides, like I said. I think we’re fucked. We aren’t meant to be.”

“Don’t say that,” you hiss, taken aback by his sudden coldness. “This isn’t fair to her.”

“It’s mutual, remember? I bet she’s out there doing the exact same thing with some other guy. She doesn’t need me.”

“Jaem—”

“We’re fucked. She told me she doesn’t need me, and I told her the same.”

You’re horrified. “You did what?”

“Hilarious, isn’t it? We had our first fight, and we aren’t even together yet.” He scoffs, pushing a hand through his hair in irritation. “Some type of soulmate.”

You’ve never heard him talk like this. He’s out of his mind. He’s lost it. “Fuck, Jaem, how much did you drink?”

“Not enough to feel better, clearly,” he snaps.

“Alcohol and whatever this is between the two of us isn’t going to make you feel any better. This isn’t going to fix your problems.”

“Then what do you want me to do?!” His words are sharp, his expression hard when he glares at you. “You tell me to move on and to give her a chance and to stop doing whatever—” he motions frantically. You’ve never seen him so wild, so out of control, and you’ve almost never seen him lash out at anyone like this. “—whatever the fuck this is, but do you even know how it feels? Do you even care?”

A sharp intake of breath, and then the world is crashing down around you.

The feelings you fought to suppress re-emerge, rising up to crush you and force you into relapse. Doubt. Regret. Guilt. The little voice in the back of your head is a raging monster now, and it shouts at you, screaming at you in a blind rage. Telling you that you’re heartless and self-absorbed and indifferent, everything you believed you were when Jungwoo died. Reinstating what you know isn’t true. You know he doesn’t mean it. You know that it’s just alcohol fueling the words spewing from his lips and nothing more, but they still bring back unpleasant memories, a sense of dread you can’t shake.

He realizes, albeit a bit too late. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

If you knew how much it hurts me to watch you do this to yourself. If you knew how much it hurts me knowing that there’s only so much I can do for you. “Don’t. I get it.”

For a few seconds, the room is silent, save the ticking of the clock behind you. It reminds you briefly of a memory that you can’t quite grasp, like a flash of deja vu before you spiral back down to the present reality where you stand in cold, frigid silence. The broken smoke detector chirps.

“I should go,” you say at last. You go to grab your keys from where you left them on the counter but he quickly stops you, his hand coming around yours. You look up at him in irritation, pulling away sharply.

“It’s late,” he says shakily, almost pleading. “You shouldn’t walk home at this hour. Not alone.”

“I’ll call a cab,” you shrug before slipping into your sweater and pulling on your shoes. You bid him goodnight and leave him dumbfounded in the living room.

You return home to a sleepless light and endless thoughts in a cold bedroom. A broken record replays his words in your head again and again, until you see Jungwoo’s face floating above you in the darkness. His features are faint, like wisps of smoke that loosely form sad eyes and lips pulled downwards in a frown. And then he’s the one asking, “Do you even care?”

You have no answer for the annoying voice in your head. You stare at the lines of light drifting across the expanse of the ceiling, wide awake as the sky brightens outside.

“How long will you be gone?”

It was the 3rd of August 1995. You knew because the next day would mark 50 years since Jungwoo’s death. The next day, you would be going back to your hometown and laying flowers on the altar in the Kim family home, revisiting the memorial you’d left behind when you moved to Seoul.

You shrugged as Mark passed you his lighter. The old zippo produced a small spark between your fingers, and then the sting of smoke was filling your mouth and nose. You didn’t smoke regularly—you’d stopped years ago—but you sure as hell felt like you needed one tonight.

“I dunno,” you said, taking a long drag from the cigarette. “A couple more days after the ceremony? If I stay any longer, Doyoung might get upset.“

“Upset?”

“He doesn’t like seeing me. Said I bring back bad memories. I think I remind him of Jungwoo too much.”

Mark grimaced. “Well it’s scary, seeing a childhood friend who hasn’t aged in fifty something years… Must he like seeing a ghost.” He paused, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear so that he could see your face. “My nephews feel the same way about me.”

“You remind them of something?” You asked.

“Their father, I guess,” he explained. “My brother… wasn’t the most understanding of them when they were younger. Whenever they see me, all they can think of is their childhood and his abusiveness.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

He took a moment of contemplative silence “No, not really. I mean, maybe it did at first. But it’s not like I go out of my way to avoid them just because of the memories they associate with me. That would be unfair for me.”

“It would be,” you agreed.

“So then why avoid Doyoung? What he thinks of you is beyond your control. If you remind him of painful memories, that isn’t exactly your fault.”

You sighed. “I don’t know. I just feel like staying out of his way might help him heal. Maybe it’ll help him move on from everything he’s trying to forget.”

“Oh, Y/N.” Mark took your hand with a breathless laugh. His smile was both sad and endearing, as if he were in awe of you—what for, you weren’t too sure until he murmured, “You’re too kind sometimes.” He paused to exhale, smoke escaping his lips and bleeding into the atmosphere, dispersing into the starry sky. He stared into the sky for a few moments, silent.

“But it’s not always up to you to heal their wounds. At some point, they have to learn to heal themselves.”

“What the hell happened to him?”

Jaemin looks like a mess. His hair is disheveled and swept messily all over the place. His skin is unhealthily pale, unusually warm to the touch beneath your fingertips. You can tell he’s had a little too much to drink; he sits on the couch in a daze, his eyes fixated on an invisible point in front of him as if searching for something that is no longer there. He yelps in pain when you wipe at the cut on his lip.

“We bumped into a couple guys at the bar. One of them took a swing at him,” Renjun explains as he passes you the bottle of disinfectant. You carefully apply a drop to a cotton swab. “And it didn’t help that he was also drunk. Thank god Lucas was there to break up the fight.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Jaemin groans in protest. “Just tipsy.”

“Tipsy? You couldn’t even tell me Y/N’s number.”

“I don’t remember anyone’s number.”

“Well, you couldn’t tell me your own name either. Got any excuse for that one, smartass?”

You ignore their bickering and continue cleaning the cut on Jaemin’s cheek, holding him firmly by the shoulder so he doesn’t move. The cotton quickly turns light pink between your fingers. You briefly examine the red marks along his jaw where he’d been hit, frowning. Jaemin has never been one to get into fights and especially not while under the influence, but the bruises on his cheek and his knuckles suggest otherwise. Hell, he rarely even gets drunk, but it’s becoming more and more frequent, to the point where Renjun makes sure to watch over him whenever they go out together. He’s derailing, you think to yourself as you brush his hair into some sort of order.

“Okay, let’s get you to bed.” You put his arm around your shoulder and help him up to his feet, nearly staggering beneath his weight. Renjun rushes over to help you move him into the bedroom.

“You should probably go home. It’s getting late,” you tell him when Jaemin has been settled in bed. You glance at the clock hanging in the kitchen as you clean up the first aid kit on the table: almost 2 AM. “I’ll stay with him… make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“I really tried to keep him away from the alcohol tonight. I swear I turned away for only a second to deal with Yangyang and he— Ugh, I’m so sorry,” Renjun apologizes again, shaking his head. “This whole soulmate ordeal is really getting to him. I’m worried, Y/N.”

“You know how he is. He always figures it out one way or another” you reassure him. “I’ll talk to him again though. Maybe he’ll actually… listen this time.”

“Well, call me if anything happens. I probably won’t be asleep anyways.”

“I will. Thanks, Jun,” you nod appreciatively.

By the time Renjun has gone home and you’ve finished cleaning up, Jaemin is already asleep. He stirs when you switch off the lamp and reaches out for you in the darkness, fingers intertwining with yours. “Stay,” he mumbles, pulling you a bit closer.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You say as you admire the way the moonlight filters in through the windows and draws pale lines across his cheeks. Despite the cuts marking his skin, he looks so much softer now, innocent, in a way. Again, you’re reminded of the Jaemin you met at the art gallery. He was none of this. None of this pent-up frustration released in empty beer bottles, none of these crimson bruises marking his otherwise smooth skin.

“You have to stop doing this to yourself,” you murmur. There’s no reply at first, and you wonder if he heard you at all.

“I’m sorry,” you finally hear his voice: small, feeble in the darkness. His words become more urgent as he keeps speaking, spilling from his lips uncontrollably. “I shouldn’t have said those things about you. I wasn’t thinking. You know I could never mean it.”

You hush him, wrapping him in the security of your arms. A single tear brushes against the back of your hand, then another. “It’s alright,” you assure him as you rub soothing circles against his back. “You were going through a lot. I understand, okay? It’s okay.”

He shakes his head frantically, his tears falling in steady streams now. You let out a low hiss when you see them stain pink with the blood from the wound on his cheek. “Still, that shouldn’t be an excuse. I’ve managed to fuck up everything since all of this started. I hurt Jieun, I hurt Renjun, I hurt you. I can’t even go to work and look at Jieun without feeling like such an idiot and getting mad at myself for being such a child. Without feeling like maybe I deserve this.”

Your heart drops, then shatters into a million pieces at the bottom of a dark abyss.

“Look at me,” you plead as you take his face in your hands. “Look at me, Jaem, please.” He finally lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours in the stillness. All you can see is brokenness, defeat and regret, a look you knew well. It’s an expression that once followed you around for years, appearing in every mirror and reflection you passed by. An innate, intimate part of you that you despised so much until you came to accept it. “Listen to me, Na Jaemin. You are one of the strongest, bravest and kindest people I’ve ever met, and nothing will ever change the way I see you. You don’t deserve any of this bullshit. You don’t deserve this.”

“If you knew what I told her, Y/N,” he lets out a shaky breath. “If you knew what we told each other when we found out neither of us had any feelings for each other… maybe you would think differently of me.”

“If that’s truly what you believe, fix what you broke,” you say firmly. “Apologize to her. Make things right between the two of you, unless you want to go through this all over again in another life. Things will only get worse if you don’t address them now.”

“And if I can’t?”

“If anyone can do it, it’s you, Jaem.” Trembling, you press your lips to his temple. “Whether or not you end up with her, whether or not you think you deserve this, I love you. And that will never fucking change.”

He leans forwards, his forehead touching yours, his nose brushing against yours and his lips just inches from meeting yours. But he never comes any closer, and you feel no urge to close the distance either. Perhaps it’s a sign that both of you are already starting to let go, to drift apart; this moment is nothing romantic or lustful, nothing more than comforting each other in your brokenness. Nothing more than trying to help each other numb the pain.

“I love you.” His voice trembles, but his words are steady, deep-rooted in sureness.

“Then promise me you’ll try, Jaem. You’ll try to set things right, for both our sake.”

“For you, love,” he murmurs, so quietly that you can barely hear him. His voice is lost to the faint rumbling of the air conditioning unit somewhere outside and the distant noises of traffic. “For you, I would do anything.”

You wonder if he’ll remember any of this in the morning. You wonder if he’ll take your words to heart, or if they’ll simply be enveloped in dreams fueled by drunkenness, reduced by sleep to nothing but a blur.

...it’s not always up to you to heal their wounds. At some point, they have to learn to heal themselves

You’ve done everything you can for him, you decide. Even if you continue to walk by his side, the rest is up to him.

One Saturday morning, Jaemin shows up at your door dressed in black jeans and a button-down shirt, his hair swept up neatly. There’s a kind of brightness to him; it’s not necessarily hope or excitement, but certainly a change from what you’ve seen the last couple of weeks. He’s meeting Jieun for lunch, he tells you nervously. He wants to see you before he goes. You tell him you’re proud of him. That genuinely, you admire him.

The next time you see him, it’s at a floral shop. He’s in the middle of picking out flowers, and he flushes when he sees you. A single rose seemed too cliche, he tells you sheepishly, and asks your opinion. He thinks she’ll prefer something a bit more unique but equally tasteful, equally elegant. You recommend orchids or gerberas. They last longer than roses, but they convey the same message. When he’s gone, you buy a small vase of irises for your apartment; your living room needs a bit of colour.

Weeks later, you find a small package in the mail: a parting gift, you realize when you tear open the padded envelope. It’s nothing too special, nothing fancy or expensive—just a piece of blue glass wrapped in silver accents, attached to a delicate chain that you loop around your neck. When you hold the pendant up to the sun, its blue tint shatters into infinite colours, tossing specks of luminous yellow and orange all over your bedroom. More than just a singular colour, it reflects the other hues around you. And for just a brief moment, you think you see your own reflection.

You watched Jaemin move on just as you’d watched Mark and Donghyuck: from afar, with reserve but at the same time, excitement. Close enough for him to know that you were still there for him, but allowing some sort of distance that grew as the days melded into weeks and then months.

For the most part, he seemed to be alright. His texts were always cheerful, covered in happy emoticons—he used them when he was too giddy with excitement to type actual words. “We figured things out,” was all he said one night, and it was all you needed to hear to know that they’d be okay.

You started to notice the fondness he’d developed for her; it was subtle at first, just a hint of affection in his voice when he told you about her over the phone. Though slowly, it developed into something more. It was just as Donghyuck said: time had forged a relationship out of nothing, out of empty words and empty emotions, growing a garden from a barren piece of wasteland.

The first time you spoke to Kim Jieun, it was over the phone during one of your calls with Jaemin. She’d chimed in on your conversation at some point to say hi, and the way she spoke almost reminded you of Donghyuck: bright, cheery, a little sarcastic in a playful manner. You quickly learned that she was easy-going though brutally honest at times, well-mannered yet well-humoured. Most importantly, she wasn’t judgemental, and she didn’t treat you any differently from Jaemin’s other friends just because you’d been with him previously.

Of course, there was still a sense of yearning, a bittersweetness whenever you saw the two of them together. Your fingers always danced fleetingly along the screen of your phone before pressing like on the photos he posted to his social media. You saw him less and less, only occasionally running into him at the bakery you used to frequent together or at a friend gathering. For the most part, you let the past stay in the past. He seemed happy. And honestly, you were happy for him.

“I told you he’d be fine,” Donghyuck murmured to you at one of Jeno’s rampant parties, once most of the guests had trickled out for the night. The two of you sat on the balcony, watching everyone stumble around in their drunken stupor: Jeno was passed out on the couch with two cats sitting perched on his chest. Renjun was trying to braid flowers into Jaemin’s hair, which he’d recently bleached yet another shade lighter to match Jieun’s platinum locks. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Chenle and Jisung exchange a few bills and bicker over a bet—Chenle was still in denial that Jisung had won, apparently.

“I didn’t doubt you for a second, Hyuck.”

“But you were worried,” he grinned smugly.

“Why wouldn’t I be worried?” You sighed and knocked back the rest of your wine before motioning for him to pass you the bottle. You swiftly poured yourself another glass. “If I couldn’t have my happy ending, at least I wanted him to have his. As… cliche as that sounds.”

Donghyuck raised a brow at you. “What’s to say that you won’t get yours too? They can’t keep you waiting forever. The longest it ever took for someone to find their soulmate was 241 years.”

“Goddamn, are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

“Better, of course! Okay, what I’m trying to say is that it’s rare for anyone to wait longer than two centuries. If everyone lived for up to three hundred years, we’d have a lot of dictators and other crazies running the world. The universe would spontaneously combust.”

“I know I’m barely even halfway there, but come back to me when I set a new world record,” you rolled your eyes, to which he responded with a small chuckle.

“So what now?” He glanced at Jaemin, who sat across the room with his eyes half-closed, an empty red solo cup in his hands. Jieun had her head on his shoulder, rambling drunkenly about something to Renjun. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have thought she’d been a part of the group all along; she fit in so seamlessly, and it warmed your heart to see her getting along with everyone.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “Nothing for now, I guess. Just waiting.”

“Whoever it is, I’m sure they’ll be worth it,” he hummed in reply.

“You think so?”

“People say that the longer you wait, the better. It’s all in your head, of course, but they have a point.”

You sighed, lifting your head to gaze at the stars hanging overhead. “I suppose they do. Maybe someday I get to find out.”

He patted you on the shoulder reassuringly. “You’ll figure it out. You always have.”

Donghyuck left a little later to get a drunk Jeno to bed, and then you had only the quietness of night to keep you company. Your mind drifted and you contemplated his words, repeating them silently to the wind. The night sky replied with nothing but a gentle breeze against your skin.

You could be patient, you thought as you watched the others inside. You fished the pendant out from beneath your shirt and stared at the reflection in the glass. It was as if you were grasping a piece of the night sky between your fingers: the stars and a crescent moon captured in a single, translucent oval. In the dark, the pendant appeared deep indigo, not too different in hue from the four coloured markings you’d acquired over the years.

But the sun would rise in due time, you thought to yourself mirthfully. Beneath the brightness of morning, you’d hold a different colour in your hands. You tucked the necklace back into the fabric of your shirt. You could wait.

read the epilogue, yellow

#nct #nct fanfic #nct dream #nct dream fanfic #nct jaemin #jaemin #na jaemin #jaemin fanfic #nct angst #nct fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin fluff #the longest shit ive ever written hoLY SHIT #cznnet

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sweeterthansammy · 3 years

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What Are We? || Sirius Black

Young!Sirius Black x Fem!Reader; Reader plays the role of Sirius’ ‘plaything’.

Genre: Angst & Fluff

Written in third person point of view.

Summary: When pushed away in front of his friends, Y/N questions where her relationship with Sirius stands.

Warnings: Smoking, sexual innuendos (little to none in the beginning), brief mention of alcohol consumption, & mild language

Word count: 2.0k

Removing the cigarette from in between her lips, she let out a thick ball of smoke, running her tongue along her bottom lip before taking another pull. She rested against the edge of the Astronomy Tower, watching as the stars twinkled against the pitch black sky.

Godric, where is he? It’s been over twenty minutes, she thought to herself, stepping on whatever remained of her cigarette once it hit the floor.

“There you are! I was just about to leave,” she exclaimed, greeting Sirius with a hug.

He smelled strongly of sleeping draught, earning a furrow to the eyebrows from Y/N. It wasn’t his usual scent - sugary smoke. And then her eyes trailed further down, landing on the tiny mark beneath his jawline. Surely it was a hickey, yet she disregarded it. She hadn’t seen Sirius for over two nights.

He said that they were just “laying low,” as he didn’t want everyone to know that they’d been sneaking around for a few months. She looked back into his eyes and as he opened his mouth to speak, she attached her lips to his, easily pushing him against the cold stone-wall of the tower.

“Pads, don’t tell me that you don’t see the way Mooney looks at Minerva,” Peter chuckled, taking a sip of the fire whiskey in his flask.

“Shut up,” Remus groaned, frustratedly running his hands over his face.

“You’re only telling him to stop because you know it’s true,” James elbowed Sirius, the three boys erupting into a fit laughter all while Remus’ face grew red as a tomato.

Hearing her voice from the front door, the boys easily grinned to themselves, wanting nothing more than to tease Sirius for seriously falling in love with someone. Only they knew about Sirius’ deep infatuation with Y/N, yet he found it so hard to set his pride aside and just admit it to her.

“Hey, boys,” she mumbled, giving the boys their individual forehead kisses as she always did.

As a greeting and a goodbye, they received forehead kisses. They wouldn’t trade it for the world. I mean, who would? Passing up a forehead kiss from the hottest girl at Hogwarts was something that someone stupid enough would do.

As she laced her fingers with Sirius’ raven locks, he tensed beneath her, cheeks flushing a bright pink as she leaned into his side, placing her forearm against the nape of his neck. Instinctively, his arm wrapped around her waist, protectively pulling her body closer to his.

Hearing a few snickers from the other boys instantly brought him back to reality, his eyes widening as he dropped his hand from around her waist. Y/N particularly chose to not be phased by the sudden change, continuing to engage in her discussion with James and Remus. She felt her chest tighten and her throat go dry when Sirius pushed her figure away from his.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

She glanced at Sirius abruptly before turning back to the boys, only to find that he was staring right into her soul.

Does he want me or not?

As the hour of 4 o’clock approached, she said her goodbyes to the boys, claiming that she was providing other students with help in Defense Against the Dark Arts, ignoring Sirius as he held his arms out for a hug. She simply walked away, not saying a word to the big black dog as she found her way out.

“And you, Sirius Black, have fucked up big time,” James stated, tutting as he slapped his hand onto Sirius’ back.

“W-what’d I do wrong?”

“Oh you goddamn idiot! You pushed her away from you when she was near you,” Remus explained, shaking his head as he folded his arms in front of his chest.

Sirius’ face dropped in realization, putting his head down while all of the boys urged him to make it up to her.

“I’m pretty sure that she hates me now, makes no sense trying to make anything up to her.”

“Sirius, you’re so utterly stupid, I have never been more amazed,” Peter sighed.

All of the boys turned to him, eyebrows furrowing.

“Look who’s talking,” Sirius mumbled to himself, earning a snicker from James and Remus and a punch to the arm from Peter.

“She’s in love with you. I don’t know if there’s something wrong in your little head or if you can’t see the signs, but she would do anything for you. She’d literally die for you before anyone else,” Peter went on even further, trying to somehow make it make sense to Sirius. “All you have to do is acknowledge the fact that she’s trying to show you that she loves you. Stop pushing her away or else she’ll be gone for good.”

“And when did you suddenly become Cupid, Wormy?” James retorted, ignoring the deadly glare he was currently receiving from his best friend.

“But he is right, Padfoot. She left after a minor action, imagine what’ll happen when something more damageable happens,” Remus chimed in, looking back and forth between Sirius and Peter.

“So...w-what do I do? Do I just leave a bunch of flowers at her door and say sorry?” Sirius asked, allowing his tongue to toy with his teeth.

“Why do women even go crazy over you?” James asked, squinting his eyes at Sirius.

“I’ve never been in a serious relationship!”

“I, for one, can definitely tell! You don’t just get her things, she’ll think that you want to buy her love. Think of something heartfelt. What does she like to do? Take her out on a date after figuring that out. Play with her hair, stargaze with her - I don’t know, just do something meaningful with the girl!”

Everyone looked at James, stunned by his suggestion.

“Lily’s rubbing off on you, aye?” Peter asked.

“Well, she’s given me a few tips for when I’ve pissed her off,” James explained quickly and quietly. “Beside that, do you understand what I’m telling you, Sirius?”

All of the boys turned their attention to him, supportively patting his back while muttering words of motivation.

Astronomy Tower at 8? - Sirius

Y/N clutched dearly onto the note that Sirius had attached to his owl, sending the owl back once she’d given it a few feathery strokes to the head. Kicking back and laying in her house’s common room, she engaged in a conversation with a few boys that she was closer to than anyone else in her house - Orion, Gilderoy, and Augustus.

“So, what does it mean when a boy pushes you away? He shows all of the signs that he likes you but then he just changes and...doesn’t want to be near you at all.”

“Well, for one, he’s either in denial of his feelings for you,” Augustus started.

“Or two, he’s not interested in you at all and he just wants to be friends,” Orion continued.

“Oftentimes, it’s the first one - he’s not really sure of what to do about his feelings,” Gilderoy explained.

“Now, is this about Sirius Black - your best friend, boyfriend, whatever he is? Because if it is, then we cannot help you at all. He’s a closed book so it’s harder to tell where he wants to stand with your relationship.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Orion,” she groaned, remembering when everyone had teased her back in their third year when they had first discovered that she had a crush on Sirius.

“Whatever he is, we all know that you two are in love but you’re afraid to admit it, more so Sirius than you.”

“And how do you know that?”

She peered down at Augustus, leaning on her elbows to get a glance at the trio sitting on the floor.

“Have you not seen the way he looks at you on a day to day basis?!” Gilderoy’s eyes were practically bulging out of its sockets as he looked at her in disbelief.

“How does he look at me?”

Oh, how young and naive she was.

“He basically eye fucks you in every class that we have together,” Orion said bluntly, nonchalantly leaning back so he was resting against the foot of a sofa.

Her cheeks grew a bright shade of pink, her eyes widening for a moment before she turned back to the boys.

“He asked me to meet later...what do I do?” she asked, panic clearly written on her face.

“Go, silly! He obviously wants you to know that he’s got some sort of feelings in his heart bottled up for you,” Augustus suggested, leaning back onto Orion.

She smiled at them, thanking the three of them for the advice.

A heavy trench coat kept her warm as she waited for Sirius, the rain coming down harder and harder.

I can’t do this again.

She was about to leave, droplets of rain soaking her from head to toe when she felt a pair of hands firmly position themselves on her waist.

“Sirius, I’m tired of doing this! I can’t keep coming up here and waiting for you!”

She competed with the sound of the rain pelting down onto the stone padded floor.

“Y/N, I-I need to tell you something,” he said, holding onto her wrists as she tried to pull away from him.

“What is it?!” she asked, trying to fight the tears that were flooding her eyes.

“The moment I laid my eyes on you, I fell in love. I knew I would love you forever. I didn’t know that I would have fallen in love with you any harder than I already had. Please, I need you to be by my side no matter what happens. Will you be my girlfriend?”

She was stricken by his words, her waterlines beginning to fail and letting her tears flow, mixing with the raindrops that lay upon her face.

“Sirius, before I give you an answer, answer me this - why don’t you like being seen with me in public? You claim to have loved me so much yet I can’t figure out why you seem to be bothered by my existence half of the time.”

She watched as he dropped his head, sighing as he looked back up.

“I never meant to make you feel that way. I-I thought that if I’d just push my feelings for you aside, it’d help, but...” he paused, motioning his arms around them. “Clearly it didn’t.”

“One more thing.”

“What is it?”

“The hickey...the sleeping draught. Sirius, I know you were out with another girl, don’t even try to lie to me. You promised me that it was me and me only, even before you asked me to be your girlfriend. Why couldn’t it just be me?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I mean it. I just needed to get you off my mind for a couple of days but no matter who I was with, it wasn’t you so it didn’t help with anything. Y/N, I love you with all of my heart and I’m truly, truly sorry.”

With the soft look that rested on his face - the tip of his nose red, eyes glossy with tears, lips soft and pink - she couldn’t say no. She easily wrapped her arms around his neck, perfectly molding their lips together in a soft kiss.

His large hands dispersed over her back, holding her tightly to his body as they kissed under the rain. With a flick of his wand and a quick mutter of the word “apparition,” they appeared in the center of his dorm room, the boys laying in their own beds.

“So...I’m assuming she said ‘yes’?” Remus questioned, flipping the page of the book that rested in his lap.

“I had to. The eyes made me feel so weak,” she chuckled, sniffling as she wiped the teardrops and raindrops from her cheeks.

“Well, he is a dog after all. Their specialty is manipulating with the eyes,” James snickered.

“No it’s not,” Remus argued, eyes still pasted to his book.

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#sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black imagines #sirius black angst #sirius black fluff #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #harry potter #marauders hp #marauders #marauders era #platonic!remus lupin x reader #platonic!james potter x reader #platonic!peter pettigrew x reader

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namparktae · 3 years

Text

Kim Namjoon

𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 & 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐱ᵏⁿʲ

You woke up huddled in your warm blanket on a cold Saturday morning. The sun shone through the slits of your blinds, reflecting onto your face. The smell of breakfast and coffee wafted upstairs. That must be jin cooking, you thought. You decided to get out of bed and help him cook this mornings breakfast for you and the boys so you pulled on your sweatpants and began walking down the stairs of your home.

Currently you're at university studying criminology and psychology, so you live with 3 men in a large house share. At first it was very inconvenient that you're living with 3 males, and you did complain to the principal but all other dorms for girls were full, and the university wasn't very strict on separation between males and females. Soon enough you got used to the 3 boys and managed to live around them. They treated you well, always looking out for you and helping you when you needed it.

You lived with Kim Seokjin, Kim Taehyung and Kim Namjoon. All three of them were absolute heartthrobs and they had girls swooning over them as soon as they stepped foot onto campus yet none of them were remotely interested in relationships or even hooking up with girls in general.

As you reached the bottom step you see Namjoon peering through the door frame at you. His tall figure was stood by the stove as you discovered he was cooking.

Oh no. The one thing Kim Namjoon was hopeless at.

He was very clumsy, the boys even started calling him 'the god of destruction' as he would literally break everything, so cooking was a slight danger.

He turned his head away from the stove as he spoke to you.

"Morning y/n, the others are at class already. Do you want any breakfast?"

"God namjoon are you sure this is going to go well? Jin doesn't ever let you cook."

"Yeah sure. It's fine, I'm nearly done anyway. Do you want some?"

"Yes please. Okay come, I'll help."

You stood next to him holding the handle of the spatula as you helped him flip the eggs over, his scent was strong and he smelled like fresh washed clothes with a hint of aftershave. His hair was in messy brown curtains and his baggy jogging bottoms were hanging loosely from his hips to his ankles.

You couldn't lie he looked like a total boyfriend, he was smiling too with his cute dimple showing on his left cheek as he watched your every move.

"Umm it's gonna burn y/n." He said while looking into your eyes with a slight smug grin on his face as he realise you was eyeing him.

"Ohh... uh yeah."

"And I thought I was supposed to be the clumsy one..."

He turned to you and cupped your face with one hand as he looked into your eyes. "Tell me why you was staring y/n." The smile on his face was from ear to ear, you couldn't help but to smile back at him.

"You just look cute, Joonie." You replied, making him blush as you both returned full attention to the stove.

He dished up his food onto a plate and made sure you had some too, soon after you cleared your plate you stood up from your seat and headed to the shower when suddenly Namjoon grabbed your wrist so you would turn to face him. His tall body towered over you as he lent down and placed a soft kiss on your cheek before he spoke.

"Thank you for helping me cook breakfast y/n. Do you have any plans for today?"

"Uhm no, just was gonna go shower that's all." You shyly replied. He had put you on the spot with the kiss on the cheek, your skin burned from his soft gesture.

"How about you let me come join you?"

What? Was he serious right now? That sweet Joon that just gently thanked you for your help was now suggesting you shower together? You thought it must have been a joke.

"Ha yeah. Very funny Joon, I'll come see you after. You can show me that video about those crabs you told me about the other day." You said as you wandered off down the hallway. Almost instantly his hands wrapped around your waist as he span you around to face him, looking deeply into your eyes.

"No. Y/n I wasn't joking, seriously let me join you ill make it fun." His lips turned into a slight curve as his dimple poked out of his cheek again.

Taken back by his seriousness, you observed his face with wide eyes. His face looked somehow innocent but the words coming from his mouth suggested otherwise. His warm hands slightly ran against your exposed skin on your hip from where your pyjama top had risen.

"Uhh-um o-okay." You managed to squeak out as his soft smirk turned into a full grin and his fingers laced together with yours, he pulled you into the bathroom, quickly locking the door.

He helped undress you, pulling your top over your head and pulling down his own joggers while you left yourself in your underwear.

"Y/n you're so beautiful, come here ."

He signalled for you to jump into his arms so you did as he wanted, his strong arms held you with his hands roughly gripping your ass as your legs wrapped around his waist. You lent down slightly to connect your lips to his, pushing your tongue inside his mouth as he returned your actions. He sat you down onto the cold sink counter as his hands roamed around your thighs, caressing your skin and looping his finger around the waistband of your panties and pulled them down your legs.

With your pussy now exposed, the cold air hit your heat making it wetter now by the double. Roughly, Namjoon pushed his finger into your hole as you moaned out for him, pulling him closer to kiss him more passionately as you grabbed him by the back of his neck.

"How many of my fingers do you think you can take baby?"

"Mmm Joonie one more, put one more in please Joon—." You trailed off as he looked you dead in the eye as he slid another finger into your tight hole, curving his fingers inside you and pleasuring your sweet spot. His pace quickened and your moans got louder, the knot in your stomach threatening to unravel. Soon after he removed his fingers and sucked them, savouring your juices on his tongue as you whimpered from your loss of orgasm.

"Not yet baby, don't cum just yet. Please wait for me okay?"

He was so assertive yet still so sweet and kind, your mind was running away with hundreds of thoughts about Namjoon right now and your heart was racing due to his sweet touches. You watched as he removed his shirt and was left in just his boxers.

God he was beautiful naked. You never imagined him like this, being all dominant and assertive, and especially not with you.

"Like what you see hm? You keep staring y/n, I'll have to give you something to stare at."

His eyes glimmered as he watched you eye his bulge in those tight boxers, there was a small wet patch of pre cum on the front, and you was aching to touch it for him. The clasps of your bra were undone by his big hands that crawled around your back as he pulled the straps from your arms and threw it across the bathroom.

"Fuck look at you. You know how tempting you are right? Wearing those skimpy shorts for bed most nights and those tiny tops that show just how big your boobs are...." He trailed off as his lips connected with your neck, sucking harshly. Pulling away, he admired the mark he'd made against your soft skin by kissing it gently and continued speaking.

"Everytime you'd be around y/n, Id get so shy. But now I need you to know how you make me feel."

He took your hand into his and made it tighten around his clothed growing cock.

"This is how you make me feel y/n. You make me something and I need you to fix it baby. Let me make you feel good."

You just couldn't take your eyes off of him as he stood between your legs, his hands were on your waist and his lips were pressing soft kisses to your collar bone. Your hands traveled to the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down painfully slow. His large cock sprung up and hit just below his belly button, dripping pre cum at the tip making your pussy wetter just at the sight of it.

Joon helped you off of the counter while you admired his naked, sculpted body you walked into the shower to turn it on. He stood behind you with his arms around your waist before spinning you around to face him. He kissed your lips so passionately as he cupped your face, pushing you against the tiled wall as his tongue entered your mouth. Both of your bodies collided, feeling the warmth of each other's skin as you were submerged by the hot water.

A loud slam was heard from downstairs, startling both of you. Joon pulled away from your lips, panting as he tried to regain his breath.

"Fuck darling, Jin or Tae are home."

You could hear the sadness in his voice as he spoke. Edging back closer to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and lent up to whisper in his ear.

"Well then we just need to be quiet don't we?" A smug look displayed across your face as his eyes stayed fixed on you. Namjoon pulled you closer to him again, unintentionally pressing his rock hard cock against your pelvis as he kissed your forehead sweetly.

"Are you sure you're okay with this? Can I make you feel good?" He asked so politely you just wanted to scream out and beg for him right away.

"I'm sure. I want you Joonie."

Namjoon pressed your back lightly against the wall as the two of you stood under the running water, positioning himself at your entrance as he slowly pushed himself inside you, allowing you to adjust to the size of his thick cock. "F-Fuck... You can move now baby." You managed to squeak out from below him. He did as you said and began thrusting his hips harshly into your core with his hand covering your mouth to prevent whoever downstairs from hearing the sounds you were making.

"God y/n, you're taking me well aren't you baby? You like this, being fucked up our bathroom wall?" He whispered in your ear while you nodded for him.

Your breathing began to get heavier as his thrusts got faster, he grunted for you while uttering your name repeatedly. You bit your bottom lip between your teeth to keep your moans in but it didn't work. Your moans escaped your lips quickly as he quietened you with a kiss, letting you groan into his mouth while letting out a painfully sexy grunt as he squeezed his eyes shut in bliss, feeling your pussy clench around him.

"Joonie... Mmh I'm so close..." You softly moaned out for him

"Cum y/n. Cum for me like a good baby girl."

With your orgasm just around the corner, you spread your legs slightly just for him to hit your spot a little deeper than before, you arch your back against the wall as you feel yourself start to cum, Namjoons pace looses rhythm as you feel him getting close himself. Your legs shake and begin to weaken as you pull his neck down to kiss his lips roughly as he allows himself to release inside of you. Groaning and moaning as he spilled his cum into your tight pussy.

"Y/n my baby you feel so good."

He praised you while cupping your face once again. You blushed under his touch, smiling up at him as he held you firmly by your shoulders, giving you a cuddle. You turned your back to him as you began to wash yourself with his help of course, he just couldn't keep his hands off of you, or his lips for that matter.

After the two of you had dried off together in Joons room, you completely forgot about someone entering the house earlier. Now fully clothed, Namjoon pulled you into his chest as he pecked your lips gently.

"You're so gorgeous, baby."

"And you're even more gorgeous my Joonie."

You two kissed again as he held you by your waist, pulling you closer to his tall frame. Yet this time being interrupted by a certain someone who just got home, peeking around Joons door.

"Boo!- oh god... SEOKJINNN-HYUNG.... Namjoonie-hyung and y/n are kissing!"

"Leave them alone Taehyung!" Jin said, racing upstairs to pull tae by the back of his tshirt. "He's wanted her for months! And by what I heard earlier, he finally did something about it." The two of you heard jin say smugly as he dragged tae down the stairs, followed by the two of them laughing.

You looked up at Namjoon with wide-eyes. Jin heard the two of you having shower sex. He heard the whole thing. You immediately got embarrassed and hid your face in his chest as he chuckled and rubbed your back as he spoke.

"Oh gosh. I'm gonna kill the two of them baby girl don't worry."

Unedited

2.3k words

This story was a lot longer! I hope you enjoy it babiesss🤍

Masterlist

Wattpad- Namparktae for more one shots

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jtrbluv · 3 years

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resolutely, yours. | kth

summary: When your best-friend slash pain-in-your-ass, Kim Seokjin, drags you to a New Year’s Eve party that you didn’t want to go to in the first place, what better way is there to pass the time than to stay sober and watch all your classmates go berserk? Well, that is until Kim Taehyung steps into the picture, of course.

pairing: taehyung x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.7k+

warnings: profanity, slight alcohol consumption, implied drug usage (two words only, i swear), college party antics should say enough

A/N: first fic of the year! W O O! this was supposed to be for tae’s birthday but i guess it’s fitting since it is the new year. a special thanks to miss mei @sugacouture for her likeness and @koushiningg aka the eternal hypewoman. this fic (drabble) is rly short but i do have a lot coming up in store! for now, hope u enjoy and happy new year everyone!

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You are going to murder Kim Seokjin.

The spiked punch that fills your red solo cup up to its brim has been waiting to be quaffed down for thirty-seven minutes now. Roughly five minutes before that, Seokjin had somehow managed to drag you through the front doors of the fraternity party he’s been wanting you to accompany him to for weeks now.

And it only takes ten minutes for the proclaimed party animal and people-person, Kim Seokjin, to vanish from your side. He leaves you to fend for yourself in a jungle full of plastered college students—priorities at the moment are to either drink so much liquid regret that they can’t even remember their own names, or to find someone to make out with when the clock strikes at midnight. From simple observation, you notice that most, if not everyone here, fall under both categories.

Well, the exception being you, of course.

One thing to note is that you actually do have a decent tolerance for alcohol. You were no stranger to it, and it would serve as a dutiful companion to you when times called for it. Like last week after your last final that you knew you fucking bombed.

However, the humidity of the room due to the accumulation of bodies that left little to no room for fresh air, in addition to the strong stench of alcohol mixed with sweat mixed with God knows what, just was not the ideal place for you to get wasted. It didn’t stand close in comparison to drinking with a solid group of close friends, or by yourself in the comfort of your bed while a shitty rom-com plays in the background on your laptop.

The atmosphere is suffocating all of your senses— tears pricking at the corners of your eyes due to the strong odor of the room, the curled front pieces of your hair dampening and sticking to your temples, your mouth and throat dry as the Sahara Desert because, of fucking course, there is absolutely no water to be seen.

The small black dress and heels that Seokjin forced you to wear was worsening the situation greatly—your legs practically glued stuck to the stool you were sitting on, leading to ugly red marks and stinging skin if you tried to stand up.

You could not take being inside any longer. Instead of passing out from being piss drunk, you were almost adamant that you were going to pass out from the grueling mix of heat exhaustion and secondhand high.

Your grip on the solo cup significantly tightens, nearly crushing the plastic in half. You quickly stand up from the stool you were sitting in, the sensation akin to getting your legs waxed as you take a deep inhale through your nose, mentally preparing yourself to dive into this sea of financially obligated, depressed monsters.

Peculiarly, you manage to shove your way through a good chunk of the mass, your eyes set on the door that leads towards the balcony. Your ankles almost completely give into your weight a concerning number of times, and if it wasn’t for all of the arms of oblivious partygoers that you had clung onto for dear life, you probably wouldn’t be able to stand on your own two feet by now.

Solely occupied with trying to navigate your way through the crowd, you don’t even realize that someone bumped into you and spilled your drink all over your dress until you reach the balcony. The cold, night breeze passes over your body, leaving chills on the huge wet patch on your dress. The one goddamn time your dress sees the light of day, you just so happen to find a way to ruin it.

“Fucking hell!” You holler into the vacant balcony, your hands coming up to carefully poke at the wet patch on your dress. You wince as the soaked, freezing fabric comes in contact with your bare stomach. Angry, you chug down the rest of the drink inside your cup and chuck it off the balcony, too enraged to even react to its strong taste.

Shivering, you walk deeper onto the balcony, cradling yourself and staring at your shoes, a string of curses spewing from your lips. You scold yourself for not bringing a jacket while simultaneously plotting your revenge against Seokjin. A pair of black loafers intrude your vision, accompanied by a husky voice that calls out to you,

“Oh shit, are you okay?”

Your head shoots up, your eyes meeting the ones of the man standing in front of you. He towers above you significantly despite you wearing heels. His eyes are only a tad obscured by the soft, brown curls of his hair, perfectly styled and gelled to have that ‘purposefully messy’ look. The only difference being that models stood no chance against him when he was the blueprint himself. The black button up he’s clad in exquisitely accentuates every crevice of his lean, chiseled body. And his eyes that were already alluring on their own, were adorn with hazel-colored contacts that you swear you could stare at for hours upon hours. He is so otherworldly beautiful, you temporarily forget to breathe.

And you also forget that you are just staring at him, and he is staring back at you with a smile.

Times like this is when you wish you were at least a little buzzed. Sober ‘you’ is way too socially inept to fend for themself sadly. “O-oh i’m fine, someone just spilled their drink on me.”

Maybe it’s the way the moon sits behind him and casts a halo-like glow around his figure or how he’s just been staring straight into your eyes this whole time, like it’s second nature whilst you can only hold eye contact with him for two seconds before instinctively shying away. To say that his presence frightened you was an understatement. You were about to take cover and hide under the patio table like a five-year-old if he kept looking at you like that.

He blinks, his mouth stretching into a wide grin, rectangular-shaped and having the ability to ease your nerves. He places his drink on a patio table, dusting his hands on his pants, “Here, I’ll get you some napkins, just stay here.”

Stunned, it isn’t until he leaves that you yell out to him as he steps back inside the chaos, “Thank you!”

You carefully sit down on a patio chair, your arms still wrapped around your shivering torso while you try to breathe warm air into your cupped hands.

The man steps out onto the balcony minutes later, his fists full of paper towels as he hands them to you. “Here you go.”

You graciously take them, blotting your dress with the paper towels, your nose scrunching at the scent of alcohol that you had no choice but to inhale. “Thank you so much, really.” You say— still very much shocked to know that chivalry isn't quite dead yet. “It’s Taehyung, right?”

He nods, “Yeah, and you’re Y/N?

Your pause, your hand hovering over your dress as you look up and nod with a forced smile, “No but really, thank you. You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sorry that it happened in the first place,” he says apologetically, as if it was his fault, “it seems like everyone’s already out of their minds, and it isn’t even midnight yet.”

“Hey, don’t apologize,” you assure him, which seems to work because his eyes soften a bit, “besides, I guess it’s my fault for coming here in the first place. I knew something like this was gonna happen and now here I am, smelling like cheap, convenience store vodka.”

He chuckles, and you swear you’ve never been so elated to make someone laugh until now, “I somehow managed to beat the crowd. I’ve literally just been standing out here by myself for a good hour now.”

You sigh in envy, “Must be nice.”

“Too bad you couldn’t make it, it’s been awfully quiet up here.” He says, pivoting on his heel to look at the rest of the empty balcony.

Your eyes trail to the commotion inside the house, the crowd still going strong, “Are we really the only sober ones here?”

He shakes his head, “Nah, we’re just the only ones stupid enough to show up at a college party on New Year’s Eve, expecting to have a good time sober while everyone’s getting plastered.”

The unexpected truth pill causes you to enter a fit of laughter, small clouds of air leaving your mouth every time you exhale. He laughs along with you. “Yeah we are pretty stupid, I do admit.” You concur, while rubbing at your arms that were covered in goosebumps.

“Do you want my jacket?” He asks you while pointing to the black blazer that’s slung on top of the chair next to you.

You wrinkle your nose, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, before I put it on you myself,” he giggles with a roll of his eyes.

Shaking your head, you grab the blazer and wrap it around your shoulders. You stand up from your seat and turn towards him, brow quirked. “A-are you not cold? It’s fucking freezing out here.”

“I’m fine, I swear,” he counters, reaching out to help you slip your arms into his huge jacket sleeves, “I’m also not wearing a sleeveless dress.” He teases, eyeing you up and down as he takes in how oversized his jacket is on you. He thinks it looks much better when you’re wearing it, but he won’t tell you that.

“Right…” you drag out, following his footsteps as he motions you to follow him towards the edge of the balcony.

You two stand next to each other, leaning against the edge, arms nearly brushing against one another.

“So Taehyung, what brings you here in the first place?” You ask, knowing that he seems just as displeased to be here as much as you are.

“I got dragged here by a friend, Park Jimin, in particular.” He responds with a frown, “I have no idea where the fuck he is now, he literally left me as soon as we got here.”

Turning towards him incredulously, your brows raise and the corner of your lip curls into a smirk, “You don’t say.”

Confused, but also curious about the expression painted across your face, he quirks a brow, “Hm?”

You close your mouth, crossing your arms tighter around yourself, “I got dragged here by a friend too. Kim Seokjin. That asshole left me as soon as we got here too.”

He steps back, scoffing in disbelief, “Wow, we really just got stood up by our own friends.” Taehyung proclaims into the vacant balcony, for both him and you— the thought of it sounding even more pathetic after being said out loud.

“They’re pretty goddamn close to losing that title now.” You quip, shaking your head in dismay.

His head rocks back, a lively laugh leaving his lips due to your comment which makes you smile at the fact that you are even able to make him laugh like this.

“Damn it Y/N, you should’ve came out sooner, we could’ve been having a good time out here.” He tells you with a pout as his laughter starts to dwindle.

Sighing heavily, you too, feel regretful about the missed opportunity, “I really should have.”

He nudges you with his elbow, “At least you’re here now.”

The bass-boosted music from inside the house ceases, the room becoming momentarily quieter while someone bellows out, “Hey look, it’s the countdown!”

Everyone’s focus shifts towards the gigantic flat screen TV that hung above the fireplace, making you realize where the fraternity funds truly go to. You and Taehyung exchange glances before shrugging and moving closer to all the commotion since it was New Year’s Eve, above all.

He leans against the doorframe and you stay close to his side, the number ten flashing brightly on the screen—the crowd’s shouts getting louder as it reaches the final ten seconds of the year.

Instead of shouting out the numbers with the rest of the mass, you and Taehyung are simply witnessing it all fold out in silence.

“EIGHT!”

‘You got any New Year’s resolutions?!” You nudge him while attempting to yell over the noise.

His head whips towards you, “Me?!”

“SEVEN!”

Your brows furrow, “Does it look like I’m talking to anyone else?!”

His mouth splits into a grin once more, folding over in laughter just enough to meet eye-to-eye with you.

“SIX!”

“I mean! I didn’t have one originally!”

The crease in your brows dissipate, “Well, what changed?!”

“FIVE!”

His head tilts to the side, “I came here!”

You mirror his head tilt, confused as ever, “Um, so you wanna go to more parties next year?!”

“FOUR!”

He slaps a palm against his forehead, “From what you know about me, does it look like I like parties?!”

“How the hell would I know?!”

His jaw drops, “Y/N—!”

“THREE!”

“—I wanna get to know you better Y/N!”

Your jaw drops as well, “What?! Me?!”

“TWO!”

“Is there any other Y/N standing in front of me?!”

“I– oh...”

“ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!” The crowd shouts together in unison despite all being under the influence. A confetti cannon erupts, flying around the room and falling into people’s hair as the mass starts to split into pairs, all partaking in the traditional New Year’s kiss that you personally haven’t had much luck in participating in yourself.

You rip your gaze away to look at Taehyung. He smiles, pulling a piece of confetti out of hair, making your cheeks flush. “Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year, Taehyung.”

The small amount of alcohol you consumed when you first stepped foot onto the balcony leaves you slightly buzzed. Just enough to leave you with the right amount of courage to vouch for the nickname.

You take a daring step towards the man in front of you, “I also have a resolution of my own, Taehyung.”

He takes an even more daring step towards you, having the audacity to lean down— your faces only inches apart. “And what is that, may I ask?”

Grabbing onto the collar of his shirt, you close the gap in between the two of you, locking your lips with his. The kiss isn’t short enough to be a peck but isn’t long enough to be considered making out. You pull away enough to be able to see his face, “Is to get to know you better too.”

He chuckles, “Y/N, your lips taste like spiked punch.”

Pouting, you bump your forehead into his, “All I drank was whatever you saw me have at the balcony, I swear.”

He pecks your nose, your frown immediately wiping away as he does so, “I trust you.”

You smile, giving him a peck on the mouth, “As you should.”

“I’d kiss you again, but you probably can’t stand being here any longer. Let’s get out of here.” He tells you, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You slide your arm onto his, interlocking his fingers with your own, “I think you’ve already completed your resolution Taehyung. You seem to know me so well already.”

Pushing through the crowd, he hooks an arm onto your waist while he shoves a path for you two to get through, “Too bad I don’t know where you wanna go though.”

You hum, thinking for a moment before your grumbling stomach answers for you, “I’m hungry, let’s go grab burgers or something.”

You don’t see the way Taehyung is fondly staring at you because you’re too busy trying to open the front door. At last, you manage to pry it open, stepping back outside while Taehyung’s holding you in his arms. It’s not that cold this time.

Taehyung’s hands land on both of your shoulders— turning you around to face him as he swiftly latches his lips onto yours. You stumble back, but his hand is quick to support you as he kisses you deeply. You kiss him back, letting your fingers curl around the curls of his hair.

He pulls back this time, letting his forehead rest on yours, “Y/N, I think you are the one that’s completed your resolution. How the hell did you know that I fucking love burgers?”

MASTERLIST

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