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seeingivy · 8 months

Text

labyrinth

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

remember this speak now fic. now reimagine it, except YOU'RE the one getting stood up at the wedding. and then you meet your ridiculous neighbor and fall in love in an elevator months later.

an: I believe it was my beloved @satoruhour who asked me if I could do labyrinth for taylor as gojo! and here I am <333 truly one of my favorites on midnights that makes me so, so emotional I could vomit. anyways, enjoy pookies

You think Suguru Getou is beautiful. On all days, both blatantly and inconspicuously, absolutely and wholeheartedly. When he wakes up in the morning with a messy mop of hair on his forehead, when he slides into your shared apartment with a surprise bouquet of flowers, and when he gives you a cheeky wink every time you're both done screaming at each other after arguments.

Suguru Getou is the first person you’ve loved. The only person you’ll love. He burns hot, bright - like the gazing sun, opening a locked cage you weren’t aware of until he handed you the key. Opening a spur of emotions - intense, extreme, fierce, and great.

It all builds up to this. You and him - at this altar together, despite it all. That every rotten part of you is okay, because Suguru knows and looks past it. That nothing can chase him away, because you’ve weathered it down. It’s your turn - to settle down and it's in the palm of your hands.

Under the palely lit lamps, on this day, Suguru Getou has outdone himself. He’s gorgeous. His hair is nicely tamed back at the nape of his neck, his pink boutonniere pinned to his perfectly crisp suit, and a bright, soft smile on his face as you both beam at each other at the altar.

“In tradition, this is the moment to speak. Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

You look at Suguru and laugh - a moment the two of you left in the ceremony as a mere joke - as you look out at the stands. You both joked that one of your friends, like Haibara or Shoko, would stand up to make their last ditch efforts before you two got to continue forward to your vows.

You turn your head to the side to give Shoko a wink, flirt with her one last time to get her to do it. Except when you catch sight of her, she has a horrified look plastered on her face. And when you scan the crowd, the same look is mirrored on everyone’s faces. Your mom, the girl you were best friends with in sixth grade, your neighbor from down the street, Haibara.

That’s when you see her standing there. In her pale blue dress, hands shaking as she talks.

“I’m-I’m not the kind of girl who does this and I-I don’t mean to barge in on such a big day but-”

You feel your heart sink into your chest, the warmth and heat - any shred of elation, joy, bliss you were feeling mere seconds ago draining from your chest. You know what’s coming next.

“But you’re not the kind of guy who marries the wrong girl, Suguru. You-it’s always been you and me. It’s never going to be anyone for me but you. And I know it's the same for you too."

You swallow hard as you push your palms hard into the stems of the bouquet. You can feel your cheeks burning again - except in embarrassment this time.

Does the preacher say something? Is Suguru supposed to say no? Is he even-

You turn over to look at him, his hazel eyes moving to meet yours, the look on his face so blank, so foreign from the boy you’ve known for the past two years that you can barely recognize him.

“Can we talk?” he whispers, nervously eyeing the crowd. You swallow hard, like burning acid is running down your esophagus and give a halfhearted nod. He takes your hand, giving you the tiniest of smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, as you two nearly sprint down the aisle past where Hana is still standing, tears streaming down her eyes.

He slams the doors shut behind him as the crowd breaks out into loud chatter behind you, shameful, humiliating tears falling onto your perfectly powdered cheeks.

“Y/N. I-”

Through the messy blur of tears, when you squint your eyes, you see it. Suguru Getou is beautiful. At all times, but not right now. His face is filled with shame, his shoulders hunched over, and his usual calm, delicate manner all haphazard, panicked. He’s fidgeting with his hands, pacing back and forth, words carelessly falling out of his mouth under his breath.

“You-you want to go, don’t you?” you ask, your voice a mere whisper in the air.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders, stifling your sob into the fabric as his shirt as aimless apologies fall out of his mouth, his once warm hands, scalding - burning your arms.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was going to do that and I would never mean to do it like this. But-but I was standing there and I saw her and it kind of ca-came together-”

“Did you know?” you ask.

“I didn’t even know she was com-”

“Did you know you loved her still?” you ask, your voice more firm.

He looks at you, eyes narrowed, before looking down at his hands, twisting the rings you were supposed to exchange in a few minutes in his hands. And you suppose this reaction - Suguru Getou’s silence, his first time being something other than beautiful is answer enough.

Ten minutes later, he walks past you - your sister, the nanny you grew up with, your college best friends - hand in hand with Hana as they nearly run out cheesing, his initial despair left replaced with bliss as he leaves you in your white dress.

And you know that out of the infinite moments of your life, it’ll always boil down to this one. That you’ll be getting over this - how tasteless, how cruel, how evil the situation truly is.

After a month of being encouraged by people to move forward, to bounce back, you do it in the way people don’t expect. You move away. And three months after the fact, when your pain is still raw in your chest, you meet Satoru Gojo.

You lean against the wall of the elevator, pressing the faded star button, as you scroll through your errands on your phone - buy paint, email landlord, mail ring.

Mail ring.

You reach into your bag, the thought of it possessing a sudden will to see it. You yank it out and press your coffee into the crook of your elbow, focusing on the jewelry - a silver band with a pear shaped diamond in the middle. The ring Suguru’s mom wore when she was married to his dad. The one you were supposed to wear when he married you.

Suguru asked you to mail it back last night. A roundabout way of course - initially filled with concern, deeply sincere and rehearsed apologies, before cutting to the chase. And you question the thought process.

You break up with your first love. Date another girl for two years. Get engaged, plan an entire wedding, walk to the altar. Just to stand up and walk away, because it’s always been her.

And a mere three months later, reach out to ask for the ring back, because he has to propose. Again.

You ponder your options, in earnest. Granted, you’re definitely in the anger stage of your grieving process, corny terms used by your corny therapist, who is trying her best.

One. Mail it back. Tell them to go to hell.

Two. Throw it into the ocean and say you lost it. And then tell them to go to hell.

Three. Don’t respond and pawn the ring for a decent amount of money. Use the fortune to send an ungodly amount of ominous letters to their house, telling them to go to hell.

The elevator bell rings, stopping five floors short of the lobby, as two kids and a tall, pale haired man shuffle in. You give the three of them a polite smile as you slide to the side, opening up the space for them.

“It’s female rage, Gojo.”

“Female rage? I thought using the word female was bad, Tsumiki.”

“It is. But not here.”

“So if I use female as an adjective it’s not a bad thing?”

The girl, barely thirteen you’re guessing, groans in frustration as she approaches the shorter boy, who is quietly leaning against the wall with his nose stuck in his video game.

“Megumi. Tell Gojo he’s being stupid.” she states.

He looks up at the two of them, giving a soul shattering glare, before nudging her to the side.

“On a good day, you’re both objectively stupid.”

She rolls her eyes as she shoves him, muttering how annoying he is under her breath. And now they’re both shoving each other, pushing harder with each consecutive push before the boy bumps into you. You land against the wall and drop your latte all over your clothes, the cold liquid staining your white button down shirt.

You groan, knowing you’ll have to go back up and change because the stain is so blatant, putting a pin in your errands and heading to work. You look up to find the pale haired man, blue eyes widely staring into yours, as he starts profusely apologizing.

“I’m so sorry. We- I’ll pay for your dry cleaning. You know. Kids. They were raised in a barn.”

“We were both raised by you.” they deadpan.

You sigh, lifting the wet cloth off of your shirt as you look up at him, waving your hand in the air.

“Ah. It’s okay, it happens. It’s no problem.”

“No really. We insist. And-and problem solved. You can take my shirt instead!” he says, brightly smiling at you.

You frown, looking up at him.

“You’re like six feet tall.”

“I’m actually six three.” he responds, winking.

You stare at him since he’s now unbuttoning his shirt as the elevator keeps moving down, and hands it to you. It’s pale blue and definitely too big for you, but he literally grabs your hand and places it into your palm, giving you a boyish smile.

That’s when you take your moment to indiscreetly ogle him. For three reasons. First, he’s a stranger who just stripped in the elevator. Surely, a nutcase. Or a sex offender. Two, he’s smiling at you like he’s the sun. And three - he’s ripped. Like full on, toned Greek God ripped.

“Do you want a picture? It’ll last longer.”

“What? No- I wasn’t even looking. And-and take your shirt back. Who just takes their shirt off in an elevator? This isn’t going to fit me and I’ll look like a rodeo clown with this on and-”

He laughs as he takes the shirt from your hands, holding open the sleeves as he instructs you to stick your arms in. You shake your head, which he rolls his eyes at, as he drapes the shirt around your shoulders, moving forward to pull your hair out of the collar.

“You talk a lot, stranger.”

“Huh?”

“You. You talk a lot. Just put the shirt on properly and tuck it in - it’s like oversized and female fashion or whatever.” he responds.

“Quit saying female. You sound like a pervert. And you look like one too.” the boy responds, rolling her eyes.

The elevator door slides open, the lobby bustling in front of you. You shuffle out of the doors, yanking his shirt around your wrists as you adjust it on your frame. You turn your head to find him absent from your side, the three of them still standing in the elevator.

“Are you not getting out?”

“Miss me already?”

“What? No. No, I just- you bothered me the entire way down and you’re not even getting out?”

“Have to go get a shirt. I gave mine up for a pretty girl.” he responds, winking again, as the elevator doors close in front of you.

Five days later, you muster up the courage to mail the ring. It’s packed into an envelope, sans words or writing, because if Suguru gave you silence at the end, he doesn’t deserve your words at the end either.

You lean against the elevator, twisting over the envelope in your hands, as you feel the sweat sticking on your palms, ignoring the sinking feeling in your chest that it’s really all over.

It should be the end. But every sinking, disgusting part of that moment - the eyes on you, your family nearby, your dress made to perfection - make you think that you’ll be getting over this your whole life. That you’ll never move forward. And why should you?

The door stops, five floors short of your stop, and the same guy - the pale haired one from a few days prior springs in, a wide smile crossing his face as he sees you in the elevator. He leans against the wall with you, so close that you can smell his cologne - musky and fresh.

“Hi stranger. How was the shirt?” he asks.

“I don’t like the color you’re wearing. Please don’t take it off because I don't want it.”

“I was asking about the shirt from a few days ago. Not the one right now. Though if you’re doing a reverse psychology thing, I’m more than happy to oblige.” he responds, laughing.

You feel your cheeks burn at misunderstanding, reaching up to fidget with the ends of your hair as the elevator keeps moving down. The two of you stay in silence, the consecutive beep on each floor seemingly getting louder until it lands on one.

You make your move to walk out of the elevator, except he’s blocking the entrance and very aggressively pressing the button that closes the door.

“What? Hey, I was getting off on that st-”

“You were getting off at that stop. And now you’re not.” he responds, pressing the shiny button marking the eleventh floor.

You cross your hands across your chest, glaring bullets into this idiot's face.

“Is it asshole day? What’s your problem?” you ask.

“I need a favor. And I’ve been trying to catch you in the elevator for five days now and only just found you. Who knnows how much longer it would be until I saw you again?”

“So you couldn’t ask like a normal person? You just had to trap me in here.”

“Obviously.”

You groan as you lean against the wall, watching the floors beep as they go up again.

“So what do you want, stranger?”

“I’m glad you asked. And it’s Gojo. My kids - you met them the other day - I’m trying to do that whole touchy-feely thing with them so they open up more. And they’re learning how to apologize this week, stranger.”

“So you want me to come so they can apologize to me? And it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to say it. But yeah, just make something up about how that day was really bad for you or something so that they feel even worse and sincerely apologize.”

You glare at him as the doors open and he grabs your wrist as he leads you down the hallway.

“Lying is all touchy feely and perfect for processing your feelings right?” you ask, sarcastically.

“Of course! I’m so glad you get it.”

You glare as he sticks his key in the door and then standing behind you, two hands on your back as he pushes you in. The two kids are sitting at the table, the girl with her nose stuck in a book and the boy flicking through his video games again.

You give the two of them a smile as Gojo holds out the chair for you, taking the seat at your left.

“Hi guys. I’m Y/N. Gojo tells me that you both have something you want to talk to me about.” you say, giving the two of them bright smiles.

“Megumi. And he’s forcing us to apologize to you. I personally think he should be giving you an apology for getting naked in an elevator and then waiting for hours going up and down to find you again.” he deadpans.

You turn your head to Gojo. Hours? You mouth. He profusely denies the claim by shaking his head, signaling for you to turn back to Tsumiki. You nod, turning to her.

“I’m Tsumiki. Uh. What do I do first? Oh- OH. I just want to ask if there’s anything you want to tell me about what happened the other day. Like how it made you feel or whatever.”

You try your best to conceal your smile at her bluntness, focusing on what Gojo had asked you to do.

“Well, thank you for asking Tsumiki. In all honesty, that day was…not an easy one for me. It started out pretty rough, like a lot of days do lately and”

You pause, thinking back to that moment. Of that morning - when you couldn’t make your bed perfectly, the sheets still wrinkled, the coffee not tasting just right, struggling to find an outfit and settling for whatever was closest, and that god forsaken sparkly ring. You can feel your eyes burning, your vision blurring as you clear your throat.

“I-I was going to do something that was really hard for me. I-I got engaged. I mean I was engaged and I actually almost got married. Like, walking all the way down the aisle and white dress married. And then I didn’t. And then I-I moved here because everything there reminded me of it and the guy, god that idiot, called me and asked me to send the ring back. And-and he wants it because he wants to use it for the girl who stood up at our wedding. And yeah, I get it, they’re happy and whatever and they want to get married as soon as possible, but god, it-it’s just humiliating to have the same thing happen twice and for things to move forward so fast when I’m still stuck there, you know?”

You feel one of your tears fall straight onto your hand, suddenly aware that you’re crying in this stranger's house and you’ve said too much to a fourteen year old who's supposed to be learning how to apologize. You look up to find the three of them staring at you - eyes wide and pinched expressions on their faces.

“You got stood up at your own wedding?”

“Tsumiki. That’s rude.” Gojo responds.

“It’s okay. Yeah, I did.” you respond, waving him off. He looks wildly uncomfortable at the entire thing - probably because he's one of those emotionally repressed guys whose never seen a girl cry.

“Please tell me you did something crazy when it happened. Like screamed or something, oh my god.” she asks, excitement filling her face.

“Tsumiki.”

“Um. Well, I think I technically broke a bunch of candelabras? Does that count?”

“What?!” she asks, her excitement only growing as she takes your hands into hers.

“Well, after the two of them left together, I went back in. And everyone was trying to console me and whatever and I don’t know it was just weird. Irritating. So I was trying to gesture them all to move away and I accidentally knocked down the candelabras lining the aisle. Except they were all so close together that I pushed one and then they all went falling.”

She leans back in her chair, mimicking the motion as she turns to Megumi, the two of them discussing how loud it probably was. Gojo’s leaning onto the table, cheeks resting against his palms, as he stares at the two of them, a soft smile on his face.

“Tsumiki. Megumi. You forgot something.”

“Oh. Oh! Right. We’re sorry for what we did, really. That day must have been bad and you were probably just stuck thinking about how lonely and lame the entire situation is, like really it’s got to be depressing on so many levels and-”

“Tsumiki.”

“Sorry. Again. For making a bad day worse. And for bringing it up again. But for what it’s worth, I think you’re really cool. And he’s lame. Like most men, obviously.” she says.

“Cool, huh? I’ve never had someone describe my situation as cool, Tsumiki.”

“That’s because you probably know idiots. You’re like the main character of a really cool movie, where you like commit a murder or create a heist or something.” she says, jumping out of her seat as Megumi follows her into the kitchen, the two of them giggling about spies.

You turn to Gojo, giving him a half smile as the two of you watch them in the kitchen.

“You know when I said to make up a story, you didn’t have to add that much detail.”

“What? Oh. That was all real.”

He puts a hand on your head, awkwardly patting your hair as he gives you a weird look.

“Ah. Sorry? My bad. That really sucks, babygirl.”

You laugh at the utter awkwardness of the moment, at this gangly idiots' efforts to console you. You’ve seen every effort of comfort in the past three months - the awkward pinched smiles from your moms friends, your angry friends promising to egg his house, the half glass full righteous parents telling you that everything you lose is a step you take. But you’ve never seen this.

“Gojo. Were you raised in a barn? What’s wrong with you?”

“Sue me. I’ve never had a friend get stood up at her own wedding. What do you even say to that?”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure if ‘that really sucks babygirl’ is where I would start.”

“My bad. Please let me know your preferred term of endearment and I’ll do better next time.”

You give him a smile as he leads you to the kitchen, splitting the only thing he has in his fridge - an eight foot white sheet cake - with you as you both smile at each other over the counter.

You sit in the stands next to Gojo and Megumi, the three of you splitting a bag of skittles as you watch Tsumiki walk up to the plate. You’re not sure how you ended up here, exactly. The timeline gets muddled in your head. Because that apology led to you returning the next day to show Tsumiki a video of you breaking the candelabras.

Then you were eating dinner with them the next day, all fancy and so that Tsumiki could knock over some candelabras of her own. Then Megumi wanted to do a deep clean of the apartment the next day, which you helped with. And then you picked them up from school when Gojo was stuck in traffic and then he drove all the way to your job with an umbrella so you wouldn’t have to walk home in the rain and then you just saw him all the time.

And now you’re here, at Tsumiki’s softball game. She’s an aggressive player, the metal making loud cracking sounds against the ball when she hits, her determination to run off even faster.

“Gojo.”

“Hm, pumpkin?”

“Gross. 3/10.”

“Pumpkin is a 3/10 but sugar is a 5/10? You’re ridiculous.”

Ever since Gojo’s babygirl line, he’s been testing out different endearments as he talks to you. You give him a rating out of ten, which he is always offended by.

“Sugar is like old money. Leather jackets, slicked back hair, Danny Zuko.”

“Danny Zuko is ugly. I’m way hotter than him.”

“Anyways. Do you ever think that Tsumiki is a little…intense? I mean, I don’t know she’s all about rage and the thrill and exhilaration and that’s okay but-”

He frowns, looking out at her - a determined, intense expression pressed on her face at second base.

“I guess. But, that’s just because of everything that’s happened. She-she’s used to being so smiley and carefree all the time. And I told her that when she’s with me and us, that she doesn’t have to be anymore if she feels the need to be. And I guess letting go of that, letting everything out is intense for her. And she’s just trying to feel it all.”

You put your hand on his knee and squeeze, giving him a smile as you look out at her too.

“I get it. I used to feel that way when….you know. I guess I just thought it was right to do it the intense way, to fight, to love like a knife, like a closed fist. That if I argued and felt and did all these things as intensely as I could, it would be right.”

He puts his hand on your knee now and squeezes, leaning his head against yours. Tsumiki sprints two bases, scoring a goal as she jumps up and down - her chest heaving up and down from panting. The two of you instantly jump up, hands locked together as you jump up and down just like her and excitedly cheer her name. Over the cheering, he responds, eyes still focused on her high-fiving all her teammates.

“I get what you’re saying. But, I don’t want her to think about love that way. It would kill me if she did. I want her to feel these intense feelings but love should be soft. It shouldn’t be a war, it should be a home. I don’t want her to ever have to fight for it, I want it to creep up on her - build a place in her heart that always stays there. Don’t you agree, pookie?”

You turn to him, glaring at him through his stupid light blue sunglasses. One of the best things about being friends with Gojo? That he so earnestly, so deeply wants the best for Tsumiki and Megumi that it makes your heart hurt. That his love for them is so unconditional, that you just want to witness it - have the sweetness rub off of you.

He makes two sets of dinner each night, because they’re both picky eaters. And every time you tell him to just be more firm, to sit them down and make them eat it, he refuses. Because the thought that either of them would be so stubborn that they wouldn’t eat dinner at all and go to bed hungry is worse than taking the time to make two sets of food. One now, because you always make the other.

He makes Tsumiki watch documentaries about famous female figures - politicians, music artists, writers. Tsumiki’s well versed in every feat of women - from Taylor Swift’s sold out shows to Jane Austens’ impact as a romance writer. He goes out of his way to make sure that she has positive female role models, to try his best to give her things that he can’t blatantly offer. He loves them so much. He loves so much. It’s truly the best thing about him.

The second? That he takes something serious but still manages to make you laugh at the end.

“Pookie, Gojo? Really? That’s a 0/10. You can do better than that.”

“The reservation is under Gojo. It should be two rooms, connected. Four queens.” you say, tapping your knuckles against the counter as Gojo ushers Megumi to the bathroom - who has been complaining of a very full bladder the entire drive down.

The four of you had come down to the closest beach town for Christmas and Megumi's birthday, planning to spend a few days in the area until the new year rang in. The woman hands you two keycards and you give her a smile as you wait by the elevator for the two of them to return.

Six floors later and the four of you are pushing into your rooms, Tsumiki and Megumi immediately flopping on the beds and eating the little chocolates placed on the pillows as you and Gojo roll your eyes.

You unlock the connecting door and push your bag through to find one king bed in yours and Gojo’s room as Gojo joins you at his side. He wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin shoulder as you both groan.

“Fuck. No blanket hogging, snookums.”

“Disgusting. Negative ten, Gojo.”

He immediately plops his things down onto the left side of the bed and you land on the right, setting out your chargers and taking off your jewelry as you hop into the shower. Eight months ago, you would have been so opposed and appalled at the affair - having to share a bed with Gojo - but you’ve honestly seen too much of him now that it doesn’t phase you.

Granted, when you met him, he literally took his shirt off. But you're so casual now that the boundary of sharing a bed is virtualy nothing. And you've literally done it before.

You get ready in the bathroom while Gojo takes a shower, despite the fact that he’s literally naked a few feet away. You’ve shared his bed when you end up staying too late - because you’re not breaking your back by sleeping on the floor and neither is he. He eats from your plate because you never finish his own and you always steal sips of his coffee even when you say you don’t want one.

One time he used your toothbrush by accident. That however, the two of you never moved past.

You pad into the bathroom, filling up the room with a decent amount of steam as you fill up your scalding shower and indulge yourself in all the fancy bath soaps and salts in the shower. Leaving with muscles soothed and pruney fingers, you towel your hair up and throw on your sweats to nestle into the clean sheets. Gojo’s now sitting on the right side, lazily flicking through the channels.

“Gojo. I was on the right.”

“Yeah, my bad. I realized I totally claimed a side first. I know you hate sleeping by the window because you’re convinced some big bad man is going to come steal you. Now he can come get me!”

You look over at your side table, the things you set up before now switched to your side. They're all laid out perfectly, the way you had left the, except on the opposite nightstand.

“Gojo?”

“Hm?”

“How’d you know how to put my stuff like this?”

“Huh?”

“The chargers. The jewelry.”

“Oh. Just noticed that’s all. You spend like a few minutes every night before you go to sleep making sure it’s all right. That your chargers aren’t tangled, the rings and earrings are together and stuff. Just figured I’d put it that way so you wouldn’t have to.”

You smile, cheeks warm at the thought of Gojo paying attention enough to notice that you do that and going as far as doing it for you. After he remembered your irrational fear of getting murked in the night and moved when he didn’t have to. Granted, Gojo’s thoughtfulness is always one of the things you’ve loved most about him.

Oh.

You look over at him, knees hiked to his chest, messy white hair and that loose old t-shirt on his frame as he pokes through your stash of snacks. His eyes are so intensely focused on the movie - Danny Zuko dancing on the screen in Grease - as he nervously fidgets with his knuckles like he always does.

No. No no no no no no no no no no.

You’re falling in love. You’re falling in love with Satoru Gojo, you’re falling in love again and you shouldn't be.

Gojo looks over at you, bored blue eyes immediately filling with concern as he jumps up, arms resting falling against your biceps. You bring your fists to your eyes, wiping away the tears, trying to push them down as he whispers, softly broaching the subject.

“Hey. You okay? The fake burglar scared you that badly?”

You snort through your tears as he squeezes your arms.

Fuck. You’re down bad. Down horrendous. That joke wasn’t even funny and it made you snort.

“What’s wrong, my little tater tot?”

“Five.”

“I thought that was at least a seven. You love tater tots.” he whispers, tucking you into the crook of his neck as he rubs small circles into your back, his soft voice vertebrates through his chest.

What happened? When did you get like this? When did you start sharing beds and leaving a toothbrush and a spare pair of clothes at his place?

Why-why is every part of you open with him? Why do you want to open it for him?

You can’t. You just can’t.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah?” you murmur into the clothed fabric of his shirt.

“Words please. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

You crumple the fabric of his shirt in your fists, burying down every feeling - overwhelming, endearing, warm and bright - and lie through your teeth.

“Nothing. I-I just remembered. It’s Suguru’s birthday.”

He pulls you out of his arms, bringing up his hands to your cheeks, as he gives you a lopsided small.

“Sucks. Want me to kill him?”

“Obviously.”

“Consider it done.”

You smile as he lets go, dragging you back onto the bed with him. And you both watch the movie - you swooning over Danny Zuko and Gojo telling you that he’s way hotter than him the entire time - until you somehow end up nestled in his arms in the dark, his soft sleep breaths lulling you to sleep.

You're screwed.

You and Gojo pad down to the little restaurant the hotel has the next morning, leaving a very grumpy Tsumiki and so fast asleep he’s nearly dead Megumi in their beds. You and Gojo opt for a booth, sitting on the same side, as you look through the menu.

“Splitsies?”

“Huh?”

“Splitsies. You pick the savory, I’ll pick the sweet, okay?”

You nod, cheeks burning as you look through the menu at the implication, trying your best not to focus on your legs pressed together, his hand so casually placed on thigh like it’s second nature.

It is second nature, he does it all the time. But should he, if he’s just your friend?

Your friend that you’re in love with?

“And for you, ma’am?”

“Oh. Um-”

You scan your eyes down the menu and pick the first thing listed, eggs benedict, earning a weird smile from Gojo as they walk away with your order.

“Okay, my little eggs benedict. You’re paying because you hogged the blanket all night.”

“Three. Unoriginal. And you literally stopped my circulation at one point, so you pay.”

“Ugh. The things you do for love.” he responds, eyes focused on the window to his left.

“Excuse me?”

Gojo looks over at you, a weird expression in his eyes. And you feel your eyes widen when you realize this is another one of Gojo’s jokes - like when he calls you his wife, says that you’re both two parents roughing it through the world - and feel the embarrassment rush to your cheeks as you bury your face into the drinks menu.

He slides his arm around your shoulder, whispering into your ears with a smirk.

“It’s eight in the morning. Are we really going to drink right now?”

We.

“Sh-shut up. I was just looking.”

“What’s wrong with you? You’re being all squirrely and weird.”

“No, I’m not. Yo-you’re being weird. You fucking pervert, always going on about some we this, wifey this shit.”

He drops his hands on the table, squinting at you like he’s trying to discern the writing on your face. And after a few seconds his face lights up, replaced by a devious smirk that you absolutely hate.

“What, Gojo?”

“You just realized, didn’t you?”

“Realized what?”

“That you love me.” he states, matter of factly.

You feel your jaw drop as you stare at him, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as you feel your cheeks burn, his closeness to you making you even more embarrassed. At him saying that, so bluntly.

“I don’t love you, Gojo.”

“Oh, you totally do. Is that what you were crying about last night? Overwhelmed with your love for me?”

Satoru Gojo. Fucking mindreader.

“No. No, I don’t- I can’t-” you mutter, hands in your face as the entire thing bubbles out, your big secret wide open.

You can’t love Gojo. You just loved Suguru. And you don’t love anyone like you love Suguru and you shouldn't with what happened and

Satoru puts a hand on your head, ruffling your hair.

“Y/N. Just, stop panicking. I'm teasing. You don’t have to be all embarrassed and figure out what it means that right away. You-you have a lot of baggage that comes with feeling like this. I’m guessing your first line of defense is to run off or push me away, so I can’t do to you what Suguru did. But - just calm down, okay? Eat eggs benedict and french toast with me and then drive along the coast.”

You stare at him, his expression so calm, so serene at something so serious that it’s off putting.

“Can you do that for me? It is my birthday, you know?”

"Your birthday was like three weeks ago."

"Yeah but it's still my month. You have to give in."

You nod at which he gives a bright smile, squishing your cheeks with his hand as the plates get placed in front of you. You both tangle your arms, the entire elephant you just spilled out ignored, as you share your plates of breakfast.

“Do you like the food, my little strawberry?”

“Yes. And that was a 8/10, not bad.”

“That was horrible. You're blinded by love already.”

The entire thing twists into a maze in your mind. A labyrinth of every moment you’ve ever shared with Gojo, with Suguru, with every complex feeling that comes with love - picking up the kids from school, him brushing your hair for fun, comparing hand sizes, doing a staring contest but instead just admiring each other's eyes.

Which is why when you come back out from your day with Tsumiki and Megumi, tuck them both into bed, and end back up in your room, you’re so anxious it’s all tumbling out of your mouth.

“Gojo.”

“Yes?”

“I can’t do this. This thing- I-I can’t do this. I want to go home. Can I go home?”

“What? Are you okay, you-”

He stands up, leaning forward to press his hands against your cheeks but you immediately back away, flinching away from his touch. He frowns, the motion catching him off guard, as he steps back.

“You want to go home? I mean, I can wake the kids and take you now but-”

“No, no. I want to go alone, I don’t want you there, this is all a lot and-”

“Y/N. I said not to think about that. You-stop thinking it into this big thing it’s not.”

You crouch down onto the ground, hiking your knees to your chest as you cry into your bones, the tears spilling down the side of your legs. You can feel the sobs racking out of your chest and Gojo’s arms holding you still, the presence you’ve relied on for the past eight months burning you.

“Y/N.”

“Gojo.”

“Are you scared I don’t love you back? I- you know I do right?”

You look up at him, blue eyes widening in shock as he pulls you into his arms properly, squeezing hard.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for a while. Don’t- don’t doubt it okay because I do. And-”

“It’s not that.” you whisper.

He pulls back again, hands resting against your cheeks - which you allow this time - as he frowns. He nods lightly, signaling for you to talk as he rubs his fingers back and forth on your cheeks, the touch soothing.

“I’m scared that I love you.”

“Hey. I’m not that bad.”

You laugh, which makes him smile, as he lightly applies pressure to your cheeks.

“I’m scared because I don’t know how to do it when it’s like this. I-I handed my heart over and someone broke it and if you do that, I can’t-

“I’m not going to do that.” he responds, voice firm.

“You love soft, Satoru. You- there’s so many parts of me that are hard, my heart is all rough and calloused over and yours is soft and perfect. I love like a knife, like a battle, like it’s a war and I’m fighting for my life. You love like it’s the air you breathe, like you’re watering flowers and building a home. You-you don’t want to love me when I don’t know how to do that and I’m like this and you should just leave when you can. I’m like a labyrinth, a big jumbled mess that you’ll have to spend forever figuring out.”

He sighs, eyes clenched shut and shoulders tensed up.

“Y/N. You contradict yourself in every sentence and it pisses me off.”

“What?”

“You’re right. I love like it’s air I breathe, like I’m watering flowers and building a home. I’ve been building ours for months now and you really think I’m going to walk out of here because it’s not perfect? I knew this was what I was getting into and I wanted it.”

You can feel your ears ringing, tears rising in your eyes because you know whatever he says next is going to inevitably make you sob.

“Gojo. You, it’s a mess up here. I can't do that to you.” you whisper, tapping your forehead.

“A mess to you, right now. Nothing about you is a mess to me. There-there’s so much that’s happened, that’s twisted all these things that are supposed to be good into bad. But just-just work with me here, okay? We’ll untwist them. We’ll make your labyrinth into a nice little garden with a pond, okay?

You push your face into his shirt, his heart pounding against your ears, as he wraps his arms around you again.

“You want a garden and a pond in our litte love house?” you whisper.

“Yeah. Megumi always stares at flowers when we walk to school, I think we should do gardening when we move out of the apartments. And we can sit there together, you know?”

“Yeah.” you whisper.

“Are you letting me?”

“Letting you what?”

“In. In here and here.” he says, pointing to your head and then your heart, which is violently thumping.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

He leans forward, pressing the softest kiss to your forehead, before whispering a soft thank you in your hair. You cry a great deal more, his soft words soothing you down, until you’re tangled under the sheets together, every part of your body vibrating with what just happened.

“Go to bed, my love. We have to get up early tomorrow.”

You turn to the other side and he snakes his arms around your waist, his breath tickling the back of your neck.

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“My love? It’s ten out of ten.” you whisper.

You feel him press a kiss to the back of your neck before you both fall asleep, the warmth enveloping you in the deepest rest you’ve ever had.

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot@itzmeme @squirrelspoetry

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suguruplsr · 7 months

Note

Hi hi 👉🏾👈🏾was wondering if you could do a smut of Gamer boy Getou x Chubby Goth YN? It's been on my brain for a whiiiile

Filled to the brim!

✰ ✰ ✰ you just look so cute , so don’t blame him when he fills you up.. to the brim !

જ⁀➴ ily for this <3 i’m not familiar with goth aesthetic so i tried my best babe!

,, gamer!suguru x chubby!fem!reader , mean!suguru , reader has dark/goth aesthetic , suguru implied to be a streamer , he came in his pants <3 , unprotected , cock warming , praising & degradation , cream pie , breeding kink , brat taming ? , dumbification ? , idk

*3 attachments*

“omw baby. do you like them? my friends said they suited me.”

suguru hearts your cute pictures of the new outfits you gained from your shopping spree at the mall. never minding the periodic dings of his phone, notifications of the money you’ve taken out his card. always knowing he could make it up with more hours of streaming. and he tends to look forward to your ‘acts’ of service, such cute apologies for spending so much money even if he doesn’t care about how you spend.

hearing the sound of his queue ending and getting into a lobby, he frowns and sets his phone down, annoyed with being unable to properly admire the photos. turning on his mic and unmuting his sound, suguru hears the playful banter between satoru and sukuna who argues over which characters to pick, “oh c’monnn, man you always pick jett!”

satoru groans, the sounds of his mouse trying to quickly lock her in, and failing, were so loud. “and? i’m better on her. loser..” sukuna chuckles, making suguru smile to himself, locking in sova, deciding to let haibara play sage for once. “he isn’t lying. plus you’ve been playing wayyyy better on gecko ever since he was released.” suguru hums, wincing when he suddenly hear mahitos, obnoxious, voice ring through his head phones. “yea dude! plus you ain’t playing raze this game!”

“could you please turn your mic down?” “yea that shit is loud ass hell bro” haibara and sukuna scold the male, their voices visibly contrasting as mahito whines, grumbling something that couldn’t be heard over the mic. “yo gojo, my chat agrees with us. so go head’ n’ lock in before the game starts..” sukuna snickers, a laugh escaping suguru, “geez man, you must be total shit on her if your fans are goin’ to his stream just to prove you wrong.” their banter only gets worse as they finally load in game, the pistol round was one of chaos, for sure.

eventually, after their ranked match ends in 16-14, with haibara clutching their last round, suguru leaves the lobby to let his friends continue their donation streams. he didn’t really even feel like playing valorant today, especially since he wasn’t streaming. instead, he logged onto dead by daylight, grabbing one of his rehab monster drinks and taking a small break as the game loaded.

before he could scroll through his reels, suguru immediately remembers the pictures you sent him, quickly going to his photos. he was glad for his unconscious acts of saving your batches of pictures before even looking at them, every time. his breath hitches at the sight, god, you looked so cute. black thigh high stockings with cute little bows attached, it matched the mini black dress you wore. it had a ruffled fluffy skirt that sat just above the stockings, the plush of your thighs poking out.

suguru was sure that if he had just bent you down he’d get such a good look at— fuck. his dick was already sticking up high, and as much as he would love to fuck into his hand just from your pictures, it had been a while since you had let him know you were coming home. he couldn’t have his sweet girl walking in on such a nasty sight. sighing and spreading legs wider to relieve the tightness, suguru views the next picture. and he’s sure you’re trying to kill him.

small platforms with cute little leg warmers and another pair of black stockings, little holes in them. with a gray large jacket zipped down just below your cleavage, revealing your busty breasts tucked into a low white t-shirt. your neck was so prettily decorated with silver necklaces too. they were similar to the jewelry coating your hands. so little left to the imagination. more like, his, imagination. he just wanted to rip those stockings and wrap your thick thighs around his head. maybe hold your large breasts with his even larger hands, and suck on your nipples greedily. he knew how much it turned you on.

suguru decides to save the last photo for later, already embarrassed by how he coated the gray sweat pants he wore with a dark stain of cum. finally starting the game, he hoped that maybe a few frustrating games would take his mind off and kill his raging hard on before you could get home. he sends a quick text to make sure you’re alright before queuing up, smiling to himself at the immediate notification he gets within the minute.

and yet the world throws another predicament his way.

“seriously suguru? i just wanna hang out with my boyfriend after being gone for so long. and he’s just too focused on his game to pay attention to me.” “baby, m’gonna get a longer ban from queue if i leave for you again” suguru sighs, feeling your arms wrap around him from behind his gaming chair, already tilting his head to get the small little kiss you usually place on his neck. always on the muscles around his neck, which left him sensitive.

suguru tries to pay attention to the skill checks, his hold on the mouse almost faltering when you don’t stop, leaving a trail of black lipstick around his neck and shoulder blades with every kiss. maybe it’s good he always walks around with those tight wife beaters on. “please? jus’ wanna hang out with you..” you whine softly, one of your hands running up and down his defined chest, cute white and black ombré acrylics grazing him through the shirt.

“c’mere.” suguru groans, watching in his peripheral vision how you eagerly slipped under his arms, sitting up on his lap as he adjusted. “how about this, you sit on my cock and after this match, i’ll fuck you. properly.” a grin curls when you waste no time in rolling down his sweat pants, him sitting up slightly so you could full undress his lower body fully. “looks like you’ve already came..” you hum, palming his leaking dick, your thumb rolling the globs over his tip.

“you looked so sexy in those outfits sweetie. c-couldn’t stop thinkin’ of you.” suguru groans, hiding his character real quick and slapping your thigh, “hurry up baby.” he moans from the feeling of your walls constricting around him, you sitting facing him, whines already slipping out your mouth and into his ears as you hide your face in his neck. “sugu.. m’gonna cum~” he huffs, paying attention to the game, chuckling, “game’s almost over. just wait. you can do it baby.”

his praise has your pussy clenching around him, and as much as you’d love to roll your hips and take his dick without permission. his new chair had arm rests, forcing you to lift your thighs over them, keeping you in place. only able to wet his cock and warm him. “but i want you to cum in me. fill me up to the brim.” your nails dig into his skin, needy for the familiar feeling of when he’s spill his hot cum in you. it was always a lot, always enough.

“only one more left..” suguru mutters more to himself than you. but you could feel his cock twitch inside you, as if trying to stretch you even further. “hurry— please!” your snarky remark was cut off by a harsh and quick slap on your ass that wasn’t hidden under the short dress you wore, him laughing sickly from how high the pitch of your voice had gotten.

“i must spoil you to much. thinkin’ you can talk to me like that..” suguru sighs, kissing your neck as he focused on the last gen that was almost finished. “didn’t your mama tell you that if you don’t have anything nice to say, then you shouldn’t say it at all? tsk. stupid thing.” his sudden change of attitude made you tuck your head, thighs shaking as your squeeze your eyes shut. you loved it when he got like this. it was so hot, yet so mean. and the sting on your ass wasn’t very nice either. curse those skimpy lace panties you decided to wear.

“m’sorry sugu.. wasn’t thinkin’..” you mumble, tears prickling in your eyes when he gives another slap but perhaps the familiar in-game sound of the exit gates powering up gave you some excitement. ready for his match to end already. “it’s okay. you’re never thinking. what a dumb girl i have. so clueless.” the feeling of your pussy fluttering once again has suguru smiling, hurrying his character towards one of the exit gates. despite his low tolerance towards your impatience. he swiftly sits up after his character escapes, not bothering to look at the end game screen and picking you up.

“gonna fuck this pussy right.” suguru grunts, sloppily kissing you as he holds you against the nearest wall, holding your dress up with a pinned hand and almost pulling out, moaning at the sound of your juices dripping on the ground. “please sugu. need you to cum in my pussy. your pussy.” your whines has him shuffling his thick girth back into you, latching his mouth onto your nipples as he begins to thrust up into you. “yea? ya want me to cum in my pussy like a little fleshlight huh?” he chuckles, gaining scratches along his back in response.

“mhm! love it when you cum in me. feels soooo, fucking— good!” your eyes roll back when the head of his cock rolls against your sweet spot, jaw hanging at the feeling of him harshly sucking off your nipples before moving to your exposed neck, holding your plump thighs tight. “bet you wanna hear it too. gonna cum baby?” when you nod quickly, suguru deeply kisses you, tongue’s fighting each other in a moment of heat as his thrusts become faster and sharper. “hear how i cum in you baby. how i fill up— fuck, my, pussy, with, my, cum.” he speaks between bated breath’s, taking away yours in one swift angled thrust, your cunt tight around him as you two stay in a silent needy kiss.

your pussy throbs from the squelching sound his cum shooting into you. you could feel how the ropes of cum warmed you up. it was intoxicating. so sensitive to the feeling of the rest of his hot cum spilling in you. you were already creaming around him afterwards, your shared cum sticking to each other as he finally pulled away.

“sugu.. can you do that again..?”

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deltaharrington · 1 year

Text

Intoxicate

Canon!Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Drug use, minor abuse, screaming/ yelling arguments

Summary: You love him. But why? He treats you like shit.

PART 2 HERE

“LISTEN to me!” Rafe spoke, his grip on your shoulders tightening as he shook your body. He thought that would knock some sense into you. Not that you needed it.

“Rafe, I was just-“ You were abruptly cut off by Rafe screaming in your face. You jumped. He was mad. You had made him angry.

“Get the fuck away from me.” He spat and used his grip on your shoulders to push you backwards onto the couch. He stormed out of Tannyhill after that, most likely to get coke from Barry.

Tears welled at your eyes. You knew better than to question him. He wanted answers but he didn’t want you to speak. He was so indecisive.

But you loved him. You love him.

He was so charming when you first met; the perfect Kook boy. He took you out, kissed you, loved you.

But now things were different…

You were trapped by love. If you didn’t love him, you would have left the second he left a bruise on you for the first time.

He is so complicated. He needs help.

You always told yourself that you could fix him. You told yourself that he just needed someone by his side.

Oh how wrong you were.

Hot tears streamed down your face as you sat forward on the couch, covering your face.

You decided to sulk in Rafe’s room, needing to know that he was safe.

“Why do I love him?” You questioned as you walked into his room, finding his bed.

With tear stained cheeks, you fell asleep.

—

“I know you hate me” You heard from next to you, the voice sounding familiar “I’m sorry” The male voice apologized.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with Rafe. He looked upset.

“Rafe-“ You started but he cut you off.

“Please don’t leave, I’m sorry” He apologized and held his head, rocking a bit as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“Please, I love you” He said and your heart stopped. He said he loved you. He’s never said that before.

“It’s- It’s okay” You said softly. He knew how to get you to forgive him.

You reached out and pulled him to you, engulfing him in a hug. He sobbed into your shoulder, probably coked out of his mind.

He would be the same angry Rafe he usually was the next day, so you bathed in his affection and remorse.

After a while of holding him, you looked at the time. “I have to go home” You said and moved to get up but Rafe grabbed your wrist aggressively.

“Stay” He said and you looked afraid. He didn’t want you to be afraid of him. When had that happened? “Please” He said and smiled when you nodded.

—

The next morning you were expecting Rafe to be sweet and apologetic towards you.

Oh how wrong you were.

“Why the fuck are you still here?” Rafe said loudly, his tone waking you up.

“I’m sorry” You said and immediately got up, still groggy. As you threw on your shoes, Rafe noticed the bruises on your wrists and along your arms. Had those been from him? No…

His expression softened and he got up, walking around to the side of the bed you were on. He stopped in front of you.

“Who did this?” He asked and you shook your head, your bottom lip trembling.

“Answer me!” He shouted and you jumped, shaking in fear of your boyfriend.

“You did…” You spoke and he tilted his head in confusion. You could see that he was battling himself in his mind.

“No, no” He said and shook his head “I did this to you?” He questioned and you nodded. “Fuck baby- I’m so sorry” He said and you just nodded, knowing he didn’t mean it.

“I have to go” You said and turned to walk away. Rafe came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He leaned down and peppered kisses along your neck and shoulders.

“Rafe, I have to leave” You said and he pulled you closer.

“No” He said and you tensed up under his touch. You needed to leave, you couldn’t be in the same room as him in that moment.

“Please” You got out and he let go immediately, seeing how scared he made you. That broke his heart believe it or not. He took you for granted.

—

Later that night, there was a knock on your door. You weren’t expecting anyone, so you were confused.

Upon opening the door, you were greeted with a sweet sight. Rafe was there, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

“Rafe? What’s this?” You questioned and he smiled. You haven’t seen a smile from him in a long time. This Rafe reminded you of how he acted when you first met.

“I know- I know I’ve been a shitty boyfriend” He started and he gave you the flowers as you stepped out of your house, closing the door behind you.

“Please give me a chance to change” He said “I’m gonna do better” He spoke and you nodded, believing him.

At this, he approached and reached for your face, leaning down to connect your lips in a sweet kiss.

His sweet facade didn’t last long.

—

Not even two days after Rafe said he’d do better, he was screaming at you again.

He hadn’t eaten a good meal in a while, so you decided to make him his favorite. He didn’t appreciate that too much.

“I never asked for this shit, Y/n” He said as he paced around his room.

“I just wanted to do something nice for you, Rafe” You started and he cut you off, practically slamming the door in your face.

That’s when you had enough.

“I’m done!” You called out “We’re done!” You corrected and made your way back downstairs.

You had had enough of Rafe and his constant happy then angry nature. He was bipolar and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“What did you say?” He called after you, following you towards the front door of Tannyhill.

“We’re done, Rafe” You said and he looked shocked. Angry even.

“No, no” He said quickly, blocking you from leaving “You aren’t leaving me” He said and you shook your head.

“Yes, Rafe, I am.” You shot back and he got even more upset.

“This isn’t over” He said “We aren’t over.”

—

TO BE CONTINUED…

#x y/n #outer banks #obx netflix #outer banks x you #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader

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its-time-to-write · 10 months

Note

What about Jaime liking someone who works at/owns a flower shop so he keeps making excuses to come in and get flowers? Richmond is real confused about why he’s giving away so many bouquets all of the sudden

(Ps I love love love your work! I’ve got it so I get an alert whenever you post because of how much I love it!)

this one turned out SO CUTE I hope you like it!

wishing on every one

You know you’re fucked as soon as he walks through the door of your shop.

Then he tells you he’s looking for flowers for his mum who’s visiting him for the first time, and you know you’re extra fucked.

He’s absolutely gorgeous, especially in the soft light streaming through your flower shop windows, framed by the vibrant hues of the plants lining the shelves.

Then he says, “I’m Jamie,” peers at your name tag, and tells you that you have a lovely name. You’re blushing the entire time you lead him around the shop, answering each one of his questions as best you can without stuttering. He cracks jokes, picks out a nice bunch, and leaves you one flower for yourself on his way out.

And then, the next week, he comes back.

Jamie Tartt, AFC Richmond’s star footballer, comes back to your shop and flirts with you again.

Of course you know who he his, you knew the moment he stepped through the door. You live in Richmond after all, and you agree with the great Dani Rojas that here, football is life. It’s just hard to believe that your favorite footballer is back in your tiny little store and maybe sort of kinda definitely flirting with you.

You don’t let it get to your head (much). It’s Jamie Tartt, you’ve seen him on Lust Conquers All. To him, flirting is like breathing. You also don’t tell anyone, although you feel like you’re bursting inside. Your flat mate notes that you’re smiling more and that you always seem to be humming, and could you please maybe be careful when you’re skipping around because she just mopped the floor and doesn’t want you to slip.

But Jamie Tartt keeps coming back; first once a week, then twice, then about every other day. He follows you around as you help him choose flowers for all kinds of occasions, and then he’a gone again, leaving you to wonder which time will be the last.

—

At Nelson Road, things are in chaos.

Ok, maybe chaos is too strong a word. Things are… out of the ordinary.

Well, but things have been out of the ordinary ever since Ted Lasso showed up.

Things are… weird. Yeah, that’s a good word. They’re weird. And “they,” refers to Jamie.

It starts off simple enough. It's Sam’s birthday, so Jamie shows up with some flowers. He heard Sam say they were his favorites, so it makes sense that he’d bring them. No one notices anything.

The next week, he’s brought some for Ms. Welton.

“It’s for all the shit you do that we don’t know about,” he explains. “Didn’t want you to think we didn’t notice.”

Rebecca doesn’t comment on the double negative, just smiles and says, “Thank you, Jamie,” as Keeley sits forward on the couch in a slight state of shock. The Jamie she was with had never done something like that for her romantically, and here he is doing it platonically. Holy shit, he really has changed.

Rebecca also doesn’t take the flowers to mean something they don’t. She knows that the team looks to her with the same respect they would afford an older sister or even a mother (although she is not old enough). Strangely, she doesn’t mind. It makes her feel loved in a way she’s unused to, and the flowers from Jamie hang upside down on her wall so they can be immortalized.

Barely a week after that, he’s gotten some for Keeley. “It’s to make up for the ones I never got you,” he tells her. They’re all bright pink with fluffy petals. Keeley wraps her arms around Jamie with a squeal of delight. Roy grunts angrily, so Jamie pulls out a bunch of dark red and black flowers. “Didn’t leave you out, grandad,” he grins as Roy pretends to hate the bouquet. But even he isn’t cold-hearted enough to hate flowers.

Suddenly, people are getting flowers every other day. It’s become Jamie’s thing. Ted gets some sunflowers when he seems like he’s missing home a little extra. Will gets a bunch of sweet-smelling flowers that Jamie doesn’t know the name of, but he knows that purple one’s lavender because he remembers how you told him it reminded you of growing up. Dani gets a bundle of tulips and it almost makes him pass out from excitement, but luckily Isaac is there to catch him.

Dani is firmly seated on the bench in the locker room and Jan Maas has removed all tulips except one, and now Isaac has the chance to turn to Jamie and ask the question that’s on everyone’s mind.

“What gives, bruv?”

Those three words make Jamie turn bright red, but he shrugs it off with a laugh.

“What, can’t get me best mates flowers?”

“It is a little better than the PS5s,” Richard says. There’s a chorus of agreement, much to the surprise of Coach Beard.

Jamie thinks he’s in the clear and his face isn’t red anymore but then Dani says, “Jamie Tartt, why did you decide to give us flowers and not some other expensive gaming device?” and Jamie knows he’s completely and utterly fucked. He did not think this far. He has no excuse, no lie, so what comes out of his mouth is, “The flower shop girl’s fit,” and then the locker room completely descends into chaos.

The boys are firing questions at Jamie faster than he can even understand them, and Ted’s just laughing at the pure pandemonium. He remembers similar moments when coaching other football teams, American ones, and the good feeling that comes along with “boys being boys,” in the way the phrase was originally intended.

All pertinent information is successfully extracted from Jamie before the team heads home, except your name and which flower shop it is. Colin says that’s the most important bit, but Jamie refuses to tell them more than the fact that your laugh makes the sun shine brighter. Isaac nods thoughtfully and Roy shakes his head, but it’s with a fondness he reserves only for his team.

It could be any shop, really. There are conversations across the parking lot of the best way to figure out which one it is and Jamie’s getting nervous when he hears Ted’s voice call his name.

He turns, and Ted hurries over to where Jamie’s car is parked.

He carefully places a hand on Jamie’s shoulder (softly, unlike the crushing grip of his father) and looks Jamie straight in the eye.

“Jamie, life’s too short to beat around the bush. You like her. I think it would be best if you rose to the occasion and just asked her out. I be-leaf in you, son. You just gotta get clover it and do what you gotta do.”

Jamie doesn’t pick on the flower puns until about the third one. He’s laughing a little bit and Ted is too, all while regarding Jamie with a soft look that Jamie always wished his father would give him. Ted pulls Jamie in for a hug and says, “In all seriousness man, we’re rooting for you.”

Jamie gives him a look, which makes Ted hold up his hands in defense. “Alright, alright, I’m done,” he says. “For now.” Then he winks and headed to meet Coach Beard.

—

It’s the middle of the afternoon when the bell on your door jingles, and you look up from the register hoping to see Jamie.

Instead, you see a middle-aged man with a mustache smiling at you.

He says, “Howdy,” in a way that is so very American, that you can’t help but break into a wide smile.

“Hi!” you reply, “How can I help you?”

“My name’s Ted Lasso,” he says walking toward you. “I coach football here in Richmond.”

You’re still grinning. “I know who you are, Coach Lasso. I’m a big Richmond supporter. Have been since I was a kid.”

“Just Ted is fine,” says Just Ted. “I usually don’t like to introduce myself along with my job title because it makes me seem all uppity, but I thought it might make more sense if I did.”

You scrunch your nose in confusion so Ted says, “You were expecting to see Jamie today, is that right?”

You nod. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Jamie’s coach is in your flower shop and he knows that you like him and he’s probably going to tell you you can never see Jamie again because that’s the only logical reason he’s here, right? Maybe Jamie’s been skipping practice to be here with you and that all has to end now because football is life and you of all people should know that. Shit.

Ted must be able to see the panic on your face because he shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry darlin’, it ain’t anything bad. I’m only here to let you know that boy’s got it down bad for you.”

Wait, what?

“Oh,” you reply.

“Yeah, oh,” Ted chuckles. “Why’d you think he was here all the time?”

“I- I don’t know,” you say. “He flirts with everyone. I’m nothing extra special.”

Ted shakes his head again. “There’s where you’re wrong. You’re somethin’ extra special. Did you know I found you based on the way Jamie talked about you alone? He didn’t even give your name, but I’ve been in here once or twice myself and I must say, he was right when he said the sun shines a little brighter when you smile. I figured it had to be you the moment he said that.”

You’re smiling again. Jamie said that about you? To his coach?

Ted’s talking again. “Listen,” he says, a little more serious, “Jamie’s like a son to me. And sometimes dads need to give their sons a little push so they can get rid of their training wheels and just go for it, you know what I mean?”

You’re at a loss but Ted just grins. “I got here exactly three minutes before the boys take a break for lunch, which means that Jamie should be in here-” the bell at the door jingles “-right about now.”

“Coach?” Jamie asks, looking very adorable and very confused. “What’re you doing here?”

Ted shrugs. “Sometimes dads gotta take things into their own hands. Give you a little extra boost, as it were. Figured you’d be in here forever before you got the guts to make a move and by then Nelson Road would be completely overrun by flowers. Not that that’s a bad thing,” he says with a glance to you. “Anyway. I’ll be on my merry little way. Beard’s saving me a seat at our favorite lunch spot.”

Ted waves a two finger goodbye and pats Jamie on the shoulder as he heads out the door, bell ringing behind him.

“So,” you say, making your way around the counter over to Jamie.

“So…” he replies, looking down at you.

You take his hand. “Heard from a reliable source that you have a crush on me.”

Jamie grins. “Ain’t a crush babe, I’m a grown lad. Think it’s somethin’ a little more real.”

“Uh huh,” you say, smiling back at him. “Well it just so happens that I also have a crush on you as well as a thirty-minute lunch break that starts right about now…”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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graceofagodswrath · 2 years

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Humans Are Feral

Alright, this my first post, and possibly a part one in a series of humans are feral story arcs. As well as being something that I constantly think about and wonder why no one talks about it. Maybe I just haven’t found the specific post.

Have we ever talked about how vicious humans can be? Especially in scenarios where something we care about it threatened? And I mean “bared teeth and snarling” type vicious. Beast mode activated. I’m talking about how we basically turn into animals in certain situations and rely solely on primal instinct.

Take mothers/fathers for example. You ever see a parent react to a situation in which their child was dancing with death? They will risk life and limb for that kid. My dad dove into a pool full speed after my two year old sister fell in the deep end. Clothes and all. Have you ever seen a woman after just giving birth and her mind is just straight hormones? And something happens that she perceives a threat? Someone picks up the newborn without consent, she jumps out of bed after a fucking cesarian to snatch the kid and full on snarl at them? Friend’s aunt did that shit. And don’t get me started on the super strength thing humans can do when someone is in danger and adrenaline kicks in. Then there are the people who will protect some random ass kid. A toddler or small kid with no parent around and suddenly something dangerous is about to happen? People will jump in parent or not.

Imagine:

It was a quiet day in the streets of Kuratz. The market paths usually bustling with people of races only had a small stream of customers bouncing from stall to stall. Tourists or natives of all sorts. Ky’lio, a young Avalanghar, watched from his mia’s stall, long ears swiveling this way and that to pick up on what conversations he could understand.

Then they caught his eye. The strangers you’d never see in such a place. Humans. What looked like a family unit. Ky’lio couldn’t help but lean forward to stare. He recognized the tallest as a male and the slightly shorter one a female, as he had watched some interactions between his mia and her human customers. But those humans were always soldiers or neighboring colonists. These humans were different.

There was a third party. Ky’lio had never seen a human child except for the few pictures shared from other humans. It was notoriously well-known that humans were extremely protective of their younglings, so few were seen away from human colonies. So the small, bouncing creature Ky’lio watched tug on the adult humans’ paws didn’t register as a baby human until he really stared and saw the round features.

It kept trying to dart away from its parents, but the adults held vice-like grips onto the little one’s paws. Until the stopped at a stall, Hadi Midas’s stall selling sweet fruits from the Dolor Jungles. The male let the little human go and the female took hold of the little one’s free paw. But the wild thing tugged and cried out, like a prisoner chained to a wall. It wailed and cried out in its native tongue, no doubt begging for release from its mia’s iron laws. The scene reminded Ky’lio of when he saw Kaloway serpent at a traveling exotic zoo. It too thrashed and screeched in its chains the same way the little human was. Then the female leaned down and whispered something to the child, making it go limp in her paws, hanging like a dead thing. The female only snorted and turned back towards her mate, who was speaking with Hadi Midas.

What happened next would always remain burned into Ky’lio’s memory. The little human twisted strangely and suddenly they yanked themselves from their Mia’s grip. It screeched triumphantly and dashed away. The female yelled and ran after it, but it was no use. The little human was fast and determined. As it ran down the street it neared the alleyway next to the Damik stall. Ky’lio felt the fur along his spine stand up. The alleyway was a known ambush site for younglings separated from their parents. A human child would be a great prize.

As the human youngling ran past the alleyway, a giant Oyiadin stepped out and grabbed the skinny, hairless arm. The little human screamed, a sound that had every fear feeling surging through Ky’lio’s body. Others in the street turned and stared, but none dared do anything. Oyiadins had a reputation for smuggling and trafficking, their muscular stature, claws and jaws full of sharp fangs scared away any possible help. It wasn’t the first time Ky’lio witnessed a kidnapping and helplessly watched as the kidnapped youngling’s parents shrieked in despair and fear, never daring to fight such beasts. So they would lose their child.

But these were humans. And humans were known for strange, impossible feats. That fact still did not prepare the young Avalanghar to witness the female human slam into the giant Oyiadin, tackling the muscular biped to the ground. The male human swooped in and snatched the small human, now crying and clinging to its parent. The female stood atop the giant, snarling like a wild fangher. Her lips were pulled back to reveal small, white teeth that were nowhere near as intimidating as the Oyiadin’s, yet the expression was somehow more fearsome. She growled something in her native tongue, standing menacingly over the Oyiadin that hadn’t tried to stand up. It’s ugly face was strangely empty of menace, it’s six eyes wide and staring at the human it easily dwarfed. Yet the female held no fear, spitting and snarling, her body tensed for a fight. But the Oyiadin offered no challenge. She spat something in her language once more, then turned and walked to her mate and youngling.

“That is why you must not provoke humans.” Ky’lio jumped, turning to see his mia behind him and watching everything. She looked down at him. “They are dangerous and unpredictable. Especially when they’re protective.” She looked up to watch the trio of humans pass by. “Never underestimate their willingness to fight for their own.”

~~~~~~

Kids are one thing. Then there are pets. I have personally felt the willingness to kill if anyone threatened my dog or cat. That pack bonding stuff is no joke. No, I don’t care if you hear me call my cat a fat, no-rent-paying bastard, he’s my fat no-rent-paying bastard. And I won’t just die for him. I will kill you and cut you up in pieces and summon satan to dine with me on them for that fat bastard.

~~~~~~

Imagine:

Galar was a puvarra, and deserved xis comeuppance. But the crew never expected for their human crew mate to be the one to do it.

Oakley was a good crew mate and most of the team had high opinions of him. He did his work, turned in reports on time, socialized and was overall very kind. The crew was grateful that the human was one that presented the better side of his species. However some were not fond of humans. Galar, the Yunagi from the helix system 1-4b, was one of this opinion. Xe was unabashedly cruel to many on the crew, and only got away with it because xe often blackmailed xis victims to not report to the captain. It was irritating how xe knew certain things. But xe’d finally gone too far.

Oakley had a pet aboard the ship. The creature humans called a cat, a furry thing on four legs that was a master at contortion. While the crew had been hesitant about the creature at first, hearing stories about Terran animals, many grew to like it. Oakley’s cat was named Jambo, a black and white pattern on its fur and a long, skinny tail. It would rub against their legs or jump upon counters to watch them at work. Sometimes it would doze off near them. Only Oakley and Jabari, Oakley’s partner in work, had been selected as thrones for the creature to doze upon. Many on the crew came to feel honored when the creature would approach them and rub its cheek against an outstretched appendage, a sign Oakley had explained to be affection and a demand for “pets.” Jambo got many pets.

Then one day, as the crew drew together in the dining area for a meal, Galar chose his hill to die on. Jambo had approached the tables, padding towards Oakley, but stopping as some crew began making chirping and clicking sounds, trying to intice Jambo toward them for pets. Then Galar walked by, the blue finned Yunagi’s eyes landing on Jambo. And before any could do anything, xe pulled back a long leg and kicked the black and white cat. Jambo let out a loud screech.

Then Galar was flying back and Oakley was screaming in his native language. He wailed on Galar, his fist connecting every time. At one point he tried to choke xim. Several crew jumped upon them, pulling the human way from the Yunagi, but the damage was done. Purple bruises were already evident upon the Yunagi’s blue-green hide, scratches and crescent shaped marks on xis neck were leaking dark blue blood. Nothing serious, but enough to rattle everyone.

Oakley didn’t bother staying to explain to the captain. He immediately left to find his cat, as did some of the others. Many could care less if Galar was injured, because the stupid puvarra deserved it. They worried for Jambo. The cat was later found and inspected. Luckily for Jambo, he had some light bruising. Very lucky. Oakley even cried, the clear wetness on his face a strange sight for many.

When asked by the captain why he attacked Galar, Oakley point-blank said it was because he kicked Jambo. And anyone who dared hurt his cat was going to get hurt themselves. He said it so casually the captain blinked several times. While humans were known for their protectiveness of packmates, this aggression was unexpected. They went on to scold Oakley and told him that they would have to write this on his personal report for future jobs. Oakley only nodded, still unswayed. The captain sighed and dismissed him. They knew they probably should have done more for such heinous action. But unbeknownst to others, the captain was also fond of Jambo. They were the only other person Jambo chose to nap on.

~~~~~~

This was written really fast, so I apologize if the writing is a little scrunched and there are mistakes. It physically hurt to write about a cat getting kicked, I wanted to vomit. Ugh. I wanted to go off on a tangent about humans taking on giant beasts for their kids because wouldn’t we? I personally don’t like kids, but I admit that I’d fight a bear for that one-year old that smiled at me in a Walmart checkout line, then offered me her animal cracker. I mean, wtf. I’ll save that for the next post tho.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are deathworlders #humans are insane #humans are crazy #humans are weird #humans are terrifying #humans are fucking feral if you fuck with a cat #I’m serious I would kill for my cat and I have considered it several times #humans are feral series

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dollwrites · 1 year

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𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐭 — 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, dubcon, bachira likes it rough, titty slapping, playful degradation, suggested cnc, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ originally posted on 01.03.2023 do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ casual sex by my darkest days

he always loved to pretzel you, to use you up until you had not even an ounce of energy left to grab on to his shoulders. he didn’t even want you coherent enough to cry his name; Bachira loved that glassy, far away look in your eyes when he’d fucked the thoughts right out of your head.

and how did he do that?

by pushing your limits, of course.

“Ba— chi— ra—!” you were panting, eyes rolling back behind your lids. “Slow! Slow down!” his pace was brutal; so fast that you could hardly keep track of the sound of his body slamming into yours. when did one slap end and the next begin? you couldn’t even be sure. your insides were churning, walls fluttering spastically, trying to grip him, wanting to savor the sensation of his depth, but he wasn’t slowing down. not even when you begged. not even for a moment.

“Now why would I do that?” he croons, pressing you into the wall harder as if to remind you who was really in charge here. with your leg stretched between your bodies, your ankle draped over his shoulder, it was difficult to keep your balance on one foot, with your knee threatening to buckle from the sheer force of pleasure he bullied into you. so, you were grateful that he was pinning you to that wall, even if his tight fist grasping your hair at the roots of your crown was stinging, even if he could fuck you stupid from this position, and you could do nothing to stop him, at least you knew he wouldn’t let you fall. “When you squeeze me so tight when I pound ya just like this?”

you mewl, helplessly, when he grasps a handful of your bare breast and squeezes, so you roll your head on your shoulders and peer up at him with puppy eyes, gripping his wrist. you tried to push yourself up on to your tippy toes to ease the pounding, “I— can’t take it—“ but Bachira was grinning ear to ear, sweat trickling down in glimmering streams against his countenance. “‘S too much!”

“You’re always so whiny, and every single time I make this pretty pussy take it. Do you ever learn, baby, or do you just like to beg me all pathetic and watch me break you, anyways?” his breathing is ragged, swatting at your breasts to watch them bounce, and he guides your head back, closer to his, by the vice on your scalp, like an animal’s reins, and you submit with an undeniably happy whine, pressing the back of your head against his collarbone. “You like it when I’m mean to you too much, yeah? Gets you wet when I tell you no?” staring up at him, you shake your head, but you’re trying not to smile, breathless and weak and unsure if you actually could hold out this time, but your sex tightens around him, and he has his answer. “You don’t want me to stop,” he breathes out, falling against you and nipping at your cheek and jaw, leaving a trail of happy lovebites and his spit on your skin, his hips smacking against yours at such speed and velocity that you reach forward and try to hold on to the wall, squealing with sordid delight and awe, “you’d so much rather I fuck it like I stole it, and you’re such a lucky slut— because that’s my favorite way.”

#bachira x reader #bachira imagines #bachira smut #bachira x you #bllk bachira #bllk headcanons #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk smut #blue lock smut #blue lock x you #blue lock #blue lock bachira #blue lock x reader #bllk

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syrikif · 7 months

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Gamer Etiquette

Kodzuken x Streamer!Y/N

Pairing: Kenma Kozume x Fem!Reader

Genre: SMAU, Written Elements, Strangers to Lovers, Romance, Fluff, Humor, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Streamer/Youtuber AU

Upcoming content creator/streamer, Y/N, has gone viral for lots of things. Her infamous dumb moments, her blended cookie recipe (which tastes better than it sounds), the way she rages at her friends during games, and about a hundred more.

But her most recent viral moment? Accidentally knocking famous streamer, Kodzuken, off the Bedwars map and making him lose his two year winning streak.

Now with more attention (and hate) than she ever asked for, her only option left is to go to the source: the man himself, Kenma Kozume.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Chapter 4 (b): Guilt

Word Count: 2659

To be honest, Kenma is doing this entirely out of guilt.

Sure it isn’t technically his fault that people have no self control and don’t know how to mind their own business, but his fans were probably the main root of the problem. So he felt some sort of responsibility towards her, regardless that they’d never met before today.

“Are you loaded in yet?” He waits a few seconds, almost impatiently so, his eyebrows slowly raising as he waits even longer. “Y/N?”

A soft sound of movement, a throat clearing, “Sorry, what?”

Kenma sighs, “Are you loaded into the game yet?”

“Oh- yeah. I mean almost, my wifi’s being weird.” She laughs then and it’s so painfully forced that Kenma physically feels himself cringe. He has to give the girl props though, she’s doing a lot better acting excited than he is despite the fact that she seems more nervous.

He’d only asked for her discord on complete impulse, not really considering what would happen if she agreed until it was too late. Don’t get him wrong though, he isn’t upset about it; finding new people to play his favorite games with is always enjoyable for Kenma.

But he also isn’t looking forward to this being any more awkward than it already is.

“Are you on the server already?”

Kenma shakes his head, “No, I’m waiting for you to be ready so I can start streaming.”

“Oh,” she says and Kenma only then realizes that he’s been treating her like he treats everyone else, even though they know essentially nothing about each other. “Sorry, I’ll be done as soon-.”

“Don’t worry about it.” And now he’s interrupting her; great first impression, Kenma. “I’m trying to finish eating right now anyways.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment and then, almost out of nowhere, “What are you eating?”

Funny thing about that though is that he’s not.

“Ummmmm-,” he trails off, desperately searching his brain for some sort of response. “Apple pie,” he finally manages to say.

“Wait really?” Y/N suddenly sounds much more genuine than she had mere seconds ago.

Kenma hums in confirmation, head nodding even though he’s currently lying straight through his teeth.

Why? Who knows. Kenma definitely doesn’t.

“I had apple pie too,” she goes on to explain. “Literally like ten minutes before I turned on my PC.”

Kenma isn’t actually eating any apple pie right now, so it’s not as much of the insane coincidence that Y/N seems to think it is. But it is one of his favorite desserts, so he did have some fairly recently enough for it to be considered at least a bit strange.

“You’re kidding,” he tries to match her enthusiasm.

“Do I look like the type of girl to joke about something as serious as apple pie?” She’s teasing him now but his mind is slow to pick up on it, unintentionally leaving her in awkward silence as he processes her words.

“I don’t know,” he drags out the last syllable. “You sound like someone who would.” Kenma has never actually seen what Y/N looks like - and sure he might be comfortable lying to her about eating apple pie - but joking about her appearance without even properly seeing it first seems like a line he shouldn’t cross.

She scoffs then and Kenma can almost picture the exact face she pulls in the process, having frequently seen the same expression on his own roommate’s. “I have literally never been so offended in my entire life.”

Kenma subconsciously shrugs, “I have to keep everyone humble somehow, you know.”

~~~

“I got some stone,” Kenma tells Y/N as he runs over to drop a Stone Pickaxe in front of her. Although, this time he does it close enough to ensure that she doesn’t have to move to pick it up.

“Oh thanks,” Y/N herself is busy collecting wood, but she’s definitely mining more than she really needs at the moment.

“I know I explained this a bit earlier but we wanted to stream together just to clear some stuff up,” Kenma says when he notices how confused everyone still is in his chat. “Like how we actually don’t know each other. Right Y/N?”

Y/N’s character suddenly turns to him in game, mimicking a head nod. “Yeah, I have no idea who this guy is. What’s your name again? Kenny?” Kenma admits that he has to stifle a laugh as she starts running around him in circles. “Well I guess I wouldn’t know because I don’t know you.”

Kenma rolls his eyes, “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” she easily agrees. “Just like how we didn’t know each other during that game, I also totally didn’t mean to kill you either.”

“Oh yeah definitely not,” Kenma nods, looking over at his chat for a brief second as Y/N stops before a random oak tree to start collecting even more wood.

Why is y/n mining so much wood???? 😭 😭

y/n’s skin is so cutteeee

I love how Kenma’s just watching her run around lol

But Kenma’s attention is suddenly brought back to the game when he hears the sound of something being attacked, only to see his health two and a half hearts lower and Y/N standing suspiciously far away from him.

“What did you just do?”

“Huh? What?” She plays innocent almost too well. “What do you mean?”

“I’m beginning to think you killed me on purpose,” he teases as he starts making his way towards a cave he spots in the ground.

She gasps, as though she genuinely feels betrayed by his words. “Of course I didn’t mean to, I would never do something like that.”

He nods as he enters the cave, immediately running towards a vein of coal embedded into the wall. “Oh right of course. Because I totally didn’t see you aiming that fireball at me or anything the other day.” He shakes his head light heartedly as he begins collecting the coal with his own stone pickaxe.

“See I’m glad you agree with me, Kenma,” Y/N joins his side in the cave, mining the stone beside him before placing down a crafting table.

His head subconsciously tilts, “I thought you didn’t know my name.”

Kenma watches as she places a furnace next to the crafting table, “That was before.”

“Before what?” He opens the furnace when he sees it light up, his curiosity satisfied when he realizes that she’s cooking some Porkchops.

“Before I knew it. Obviously.”

“Oh duh,” Kenma makes a show of facepalming, adjusting his hand just enough to look into the lens of his camera. “Should’ve known. How could I be so dumb?”

“You tell me,” she says nonchalantly. “Isn’t that like your forte?”

Kenma pauses at her words, shifting his gaze back to his monitor as he uses his mouse to slowly turn and look at her. “What?”

“What?”

LMAOOOOO

y/n has no chill lol

STOP CUS I LOVE HER

“Did you just call me dumb?” He’s definitely hearing things, because there’s no way that the girl who was fake laughing twenty minutes ago is now teasing him like they’d been friends for years.

“What- no- I would never- I mean-,” she’s stuttering practically on purpose at this point. “Oh, iron!”

Kenma turns his character in the direction that Y/N is looking towards, eyes squinting as he leans forward in his seat to try and spot it.

And then he hears her giggle.

“Ha! Made you look!”

He sighs, rolling his eyes half-heartedly as he leans back against his chair. “You’re literally a child.”

Y/N manages to stop laughing for only a brief second, “I can’t believe you-,” her voice suddenly breaks off with a gasp as she tries to catch her breath. “Fell for it,” she’s barely even able to finish the rest of her sentence, too busy practically cackling.

Kenma finds himself chuckling along with her, even though she’s entirely making fun of him right now. But he doesn’t care, not even a little bit.

Because for the first time since they’ve met, the interaction feels real.

~~~

An hour later, Kenma’s stuck in a cave and Y/N is doing who even knows what on the surface, when his roommate walks into the room.

Y/N is in the middle of telling some elaborate story about the first time she ever played minecraft when Kenma hears his door open. He doesn’t really react at first, only glancing at his viewfinder to confirm that Kuroo’s walking into the room.

“And then-,” she abruptly stops. “Did I just hear a door open?”

Kenma would have thought that his microphone (or even discord for that matter) wouldn’t be able to pick up such a soft noise. He’s been proven wrong a lot today though.

“Yeah sorry,” he confirms as he turns to actually look at the person now entering the room. “It’s my roommate, just give me one second.” Kenma mutes himself in discord but keeps his stream’s audio on, trying not to censor Kuroo as much as he wants to. He then just decides to leave the world, knowing there’s really no way to pause an online game.

“You? Apologizing? Since when,” the older man snorts.

Kenma closes his eyes with a sigh, “Shut the fuck up.”

“That was unnecessarily harsh.”

The streamer adjusts in his seat, turning in his chair to face his roommate. “I’m still streaming, what do you want?”

His best friend frowns, “I’m bored and being swarmed by cats out there.”

“Did you get in the catnip again?” He briefly gets distracted by the sound of Y/N saying something in his headset, but isn’t able to understand anything she’s actually saying because Kuroo is speaking at the exact same time.

“It was only like this much!” He makes a small gesture with his fingers to further prove his point.

Kenma stares at the distance between his pointer finger and thumb for an unnervingly long amount of time. “Only that much huh?”

Kuroo suddenly hides his hand behind his back, “Hey don’t look at my fingers like that, you perv.”

“It’s not my fault you just happened to measure the exact length of your di-.”

“AHHH!”

Kenma flinches as he’s cut off by a blood curdling scream, his pulse skyrocketing as he frantically turns back to the game.

He somehow manages to unmute himself, his fingers clumsily controlling the mouse to log back into the world. “Holy shit are you okay?”

“Fuck- yeah sorry!” Y/N is still being loud but it’s nothing compared to the way she’d yelled only a second ago. “Jesus, I’m so sorry; that scared me so bad.”

Kenma feels himself relax against his chair, mentally sighing as he glances back at Kuroo with a clear expression of relief. “She’s good?”

“Yeah,” he nods, swallowing unsteadily. “Fuck, did you hear her?”

“Are you kidding? I think the whole street heard her,” he jokes and Kenma can’t help but smile. Leave it to his best friend to be able to relieve such a massive amount of tension with one simple sentence.

“Your roommate heard me?” Her voice practically exudes embarrassment.

He chuckles, “Yeah, I think you both gave us a heart attack.”

“Oh no,” she groans. “I’m seriously so sorry.”

“What even happened?” (Translation: what the fuck made you react like that?)

“I was just focused on building a house and then a bird or something - I don’t even know what it was - slammed against my window.” She pauses and Kenma can hear her release a deep breath. “It scared the absolute shit out of me.”

“Okay I guess that’s fair.” He feels something tap against his shoulder and turns to look at Kuroo’s questioning expression. “A bird hit her window,” Kenma elaborates for him.

His roommate suddenly laughs, “I think chat was more worried than we are.”

Oh noooooo

Poor Y/N 😥

She needs therapy after that 💀

“They like her more than both of us combined,” Kenma confirms.

Y/N makes a disapproving noise, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Here wait,” Kenma says to pretty much no one as he grabs his headphone splitter and the second headset he always has on hand. After plugging everything in, he adjusts his microphone and wheels in another chair so that both men will be able to talk to her. “Okay, my roommate can hear you now by the way, Y/N.”

“Oh. Hi there roommate!”

Kenma frowns as he turns back around in game to start heading for the surface, “Why didn’t you sound that chipper earlier?”

Y/N doesn’t get a chance to respond before Kuroo does for her. “Because I’m better than you.”

Complete silence.

“You’re not even going to try to deny it huh?” He shakes his head, still trying to find his way through the maze of a cave he’d somehow managed to trap himself in.

“I don’t know; I’d feel mean if I did,” she responds without an ounce of hesitation.

“Yeah why are you forcing her to do stuff, Kenma,” Kuroo suddenly chimes in with a teasing tone.

“Fuck you Kuro. No one asked you.”

Kuroo reels back in his chair, as though Kenma had physically slapped him in the face. “Um wow okay. I can really feel the lo-.”

“Finally,” Kenma (accidentally) interrupts as he sees sunlight shining down into the cave. “I’m coming up by the way.”

“Wait, already?” Y/N sounds strangely panicked.

Kenma nods slowly even though she can’t see him. “Why,” he can’t help but feel suspicious now after her reaction.

“I haven’t finished building yet.”

He begins towering his way out of the hole, “I’m sure it’s not that ba-.” He suddenly stops as he sees a building in the distance.

“I’m sorry, you said you aren’t done?” His roommate says beside him, basically voicing Kenma's exact thoughts as he sprints towards the house.

“What the actual fuck this is amazing.” Kenma marvels as he opens what he can only assume is the front door. “How did you do this in two hours?”

Her character suddenly runs over, crouching in front of him and dropping something on the ground. “I might not be super amazing at PVP, but I’ve been building since I was in elementary school.” Kenma scoots forward to pick up the item, his eyebrows furrowing when he realizes it’s a bed.

“What’s this for?”

“I wasn’t sure which room you’d want so I just decided I’d let you pick,” she explains.

Kuroo nudges Kenma's shoulder with his own, “That was really nice of her. Right kenma?”

But he's strangely at a loss for words because he just can’t get over the fact that, “She made it red.” His head tilts, “Why’d you make it red?”

“Oh,” she seems surprised by the question. “I don’t really know. I just thought it suited you, I guess.”

“Hm,” he hums in acknowledgement, making his way over to the first room he sees and placing it beside the purple bed already placed against the wall. “Why don’t we just have the same bedroom?”

“Ooohh,” Kuroo drags out. (Kenma had completely forgotten he was there.) “Putting your bed next to her’s huh?”

Apparently they both decide that it’s better to ignore him this time because all Y/N says is, “Why would we share a bedroom?”

Kenma blinks, he thought the reason was obvious. “So then we have more room for other stuff in the house instead of constantly needing to build for more space.”

“Oh. Okay yeah that makes sense.”

His best friend suddenly reaches over to press his mute key for discord, “Kenma’s got moves guys.”

“Shut up.”

~~~

Kenma enjoys streaming with her that night. He really, really does.

But again, he’s doing this out of guilt.

Or at least that’s what he tells himself when he ends up messaging her again that very next day.

Taglist: @crazy-people-are-here, @existential-traveller, @peachesncats, @royalz658, @musicluverr

Any names in bold are unable to be tagged.

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daechwitatamic · 11 months

Text

2. Retrograde || KSJ

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: Amalthea (Masterpost) - Part 2: Retrograde

Rating: NSFW - minors go away i mean it Genre: best friend's older brother!au, angst smut fluff trifecta Pairing: Seokjin x female reader Beta team: @yoongiphoria, @here2bbtstrash, @kookstempo

Summary: You can count on two things in life. One: that your lifelong best friend Minji will always be there for you, in your corner, your brightest star. Two: that you'll never be free from her older brother Seokjin's orbit - the gravitational pull is just too strong.

Warnings: language, underage drinking, a broken bone, angst, kissing, implied protected s*x/ kind of the immediate aftermath to it, TIME JUMPS WC: 9.5k

Part 2: Retrograde

Retrograde: (noun) when celestial objects appear to travel backwards

You broke your wrist when you were ten.

You were riding your bike around the dead end. Minji and Jungkook were away at a cousin’s house. Seokjin was down the street, on his skateboard, trying the same kickflip over and over again. Sometimes he made it. Sometimes he didn’t. You weren’t riding together.

You don’t remember hitting the curb. You don’t remember what had distracted you. You don’t even remember flipping forward over the handlebars. Just the sickening burn that began at your wrist and pulsed in sluices up towards your elbow.

Seokjin had run to your house to get your dad, the forgotten skateboard drifting by itself towards the run-off drain, where the wheels snagged and it stilled.

Your dad had picked you up and carried you, sobbing, into the backseat of his sedan, buckling you in. Then he’d turned and looked at Seokjin, who was standing, stone-faced, behind him.

“Your dad’s not home,” he’d said, not a question. “I don’t want to leave you home alone - you can ride to the hospital with us. I’ll call your house when we get there and leave a message to explain.”

No one had cell phones yet, back then.

Every bump of the car jostled you and made you cry harder, holding your injury close to your chest. You weren’t even embarrassed to cry in front of Jin - it hurt so bad it eclipsed any other emotion.

And then Jin had reached out and held your uninjured hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Hey,” he’d said, and then put on a heavy accent. “What be a pirate’s fav’rite letter?”

You’d thought about it. “Arrrr,” you guessed, proud to have figured it out.

Seokjin had grinned at you across the backseat. “You’d think it’d be ‘R’,” he cried, amped to get to deliver the punchline as intended, “but his true love be the ‘C’.”

“Good god,” your dad groaned from the front seat. But despite the unrelenting burning in your arm, you’d smiled.

–

The summer you were twelve, you’d played hide and seek outside at night. The idea came on out of nowhere. Jungkook - eleven, that year - had a few friends sleep over one night, loud boys named Taehyung and Jimin, and someone had suggested it. You remember thinking your parents wouldn’t allow it, but Mr. Kim had said it was okay as long as you stayed out of yards if you didn’t know the family that lived there, didn’t leave the dead end, and came back inside by ten o’clock.

The neighborhood felt different at night; it felt different to be set loose like this - free to run and shout and hide as the day’s sticky humidity faded into something comfortable.

You’d split up, everybody running in separate directions, dark figures darting under streetlights and plunging into the shadows. You stuck close to the houses, trying to stay out of open spaces. You left your own yard, creeping two houses down, curling up in a ball next to someone’s shed.

I am a rock, you thought, hugging your knees as tightly as possible, making yourself as tiny as you could. I am just a rock. The dirt beneath you, gritty, dug into your knees and shins. In the distance, you could hear both trucks on the highway and the chorus of frogs in the streams behind the neighborhood. Sweat trickled between your shoulder blades.

I’m just a rock.

You heard someone’s footsteps approach you, in the dark, and then pause. You held as still as possible, trying to barely even breathe. Don’t see me, you thought. I am just a rock.

The moment stretched, tense, and whoever thought you might be a rock decided to move on, their footsteps carrying on down the sloping yard. You released a breath, unfolding a little, looking around. Seeing no one, you stood, brushing dirt and pebbles from your legs.

Seokjin appeared out of nowhere from the other side of the shed, and you’d stepped backwards instinctively, pressing your back against the grainy wood of the shed, holding your breath for the second time in minutes.

He spotted you, clearly - he froze, feet away from you, looking at you through the darkness. You didn’t move a muscle, hardly dared to breathe. It was so dark that you couldn’t make out the features on his face. He was all shadow. But somehow you knew - knew - that his eyes were on yours.

“You don’t see me,” you’d whispered to him. “I am just a rock.”

You’d heard him laugh, low, the surprised sound leaving his lips without permission.

He should have tagged you out. But after a moment, he’d carried on, leaving you to hide again in peace. “Goodbye, rock,” he’d said, barely louder than a whisper.

—

You were fifteen the first time you got drunk - really drunk - in Minji’s basement. You shouldn’t have - none of you should have been drinking in the first place, being underage. But Mr. Kim had gotten called into work and… it just sort of happened.

Seokjin had a friend over and they’d holed up in the basement with a handle of vodka the friend had hidden in his duffle bag. You and Minji and Jungkook had been on them like buzzards, trying to get in on the fun.

“Absolutely not,” Seokjin had told Jungkook, more serious than you’d ever seen him. “You’re only fourteen. You can hang out with us if you can keep your mouth shut, but you don’t get any.”

“Hyung -”

“No,” Seokjin had stayed firm, and Jungkook had caved.

“You two,” Seokjin had said, turning his gaze to Minji, who looked back at him innocently, like she was ready to follow every rule and would never put a toe out of line, “can have a little.”

Three hours later, you made it up the stairs to the kitchen barely alive, using your hands to help you balance on the steps. You’d gone up for water, but as you stood over the kitchen sink you were distracted by your reflection in the window. And then, the backyard beyond your reflection.

Somehow, you made it outside, tripping down the wooden steps to the grassy yard, spinning and landing heavily on your back. The night sky swirled above you, the stars laughing at what an idiot you were. The grass beneath you tickled, but you gripped it in your hands, desperate to make the spinning stop.

Somehow, Jin appeared next to you in the grass, a few feet to your left. “How’s the yard?” he asked.

“Spinning,” you told him thickly.

He reached out a hand and patted your arm twice. “It’ll stop.”

You stayed there in silence, watching the stars, clutching the earth beneath you, hoping you wouldn’t get flung off the ride.

“Sometimes,” you heard yourself say, your voice seeming to come from the constellations themselves, the moons too far away to see, “I feel like everyone looks right through me.”

You felt Seokjin’s eyes on you, but he didn’t say anything.

You nodded, licked your dry lips. “Yeah,” you said, like he’d asked you something, like you’re agreeing with something he’d added on. “Like maybe I’ll be see-through forever.”

–

You almost got a boyfriend when you were sixteen. There was a guy from school - you’d talk on the phone late at night, sit together at lunch, share answers to homework assignments before the first bell rang.

On a particularly rainy Saturday, he’d taken you on a date to the nearest shopping mall. It had been okay - you’d had pretzels, wandered through a few department stores.

It had been okay - until you ran into a bigger group of kids from school. You’d joined them for a while; they were his friends, and he jumped in their conversations easily, someone who belonged. You, the see-through one, smiled and listened. Always on the outskirts.

And then he’d said, “Hey, we’re going to go back to J’s dad’s house. You’ll be okay?”

It had taken you longer than you were proud of to realize he was leaving with them, leaving you alone. It had taken longer than you were proud of to feel pissed, to realize you should have done anything except smile and nod.

He’d been your ride there.

Your parents had been working. You’d called Jin - your emergency adult.

“Y/N?” he’d sounded confused. You’d never called him before.

“Are you busy?” you’d asked him, the shame crawling over you, burrowing under your skin and making you want to rip it off. “I need a ride. I’m stuck.”

“What?” His voice was sharp. You could hear background noise stop, like he’d hit mute on what he was watching or paused the game he was playing. “Where are you? What happened?”

You lowered your voice, giving him the shortest version of the story possible. You were met with silence, stretching so long that you pulled the phone away from your ear to check your service, to see if you’d dropped the call. “Jin?”

“I’ll be there,” he’d said, something tight in his voice. “Wait for me by the food court.”

“Okay,” you’d whispered, and hung up.

Outside, it rained in sheets. You stood and watched the waves of rain move left to right across the parking lot. People jogged in from their cars, hoods on or umbrellas aloft. When Jin’s car pulled up to the curb, you ran through the rain, trying to shield your hair with your hands. It didn’t work at all. By the time you slid into the passenger seat, you looked half-drowned.

“Thanks for coming,” you’d said, eyes on your shoes as Seokjin put the car back in drive and pulled slowly back into traffic.

“It’s fine,” he’d said, still terse. It was unlike him. He was so rarely serious, so rarely not making bad puns, so rarely not laughing like a windshield wiper. It made these moments feel… heavy, somehow.

He drove in silence for a little. You stewed in the passenger seat, sifting through embarrassment and anger and also - somehow - happiness to be here now, with Jin, even if it was at the cost of every cent of your dignity.

Then, he seemed to notice the shopping bag on the floor of the car, tucked between your sneakers.

“What’d you get?” he asked, voice light again.

“Shirt,” you told him, reaching down to pull the top from the bag and hold it up. “Cute, right?”

“Snazzy,” he agreed. “I think I should get one. You think they have my size?”

You laughed despite yourself. “You’re so lame,” you told him. “Besides, this totally isn’t your color.”

“Please!” he blustered. “I can look handsome in anything. I’d look amazing in that.”

You were really laughing by then. Minji used to get so annoyed that he made you laugh when he got like this - you were encouraging him, she said - but you genuinely found him so funny that you couldn’t help yourself. You always had.

“Sure, okay,” you told him, stuffing the shirt back into the bag. “You keep telling yourself that.”

As you neared your neighborhood, though, your mood sank again.

“Jin?” you asked, looking over at him. He raised an eyebrow at you, his eyes on the road.

“Could you maybe… not tell Minji? About today?”

He didn’t answer for a while, not until he came to a red light and could turn and look at you completely. “Why?” he asked.

You could feel it as your face reddened as you had to put words to your embarrassment again. “She… was right about this guy. I should have listened to her. I just… I’m not ready to hear I told you so.”

Seokjin stopped in front of your parents’ house so you wouldn’t have to run across the street in the rain.

“I never saw you,” he promised you solemnly. “But Y/N? You shouldn’t let people treat you like this. That guy’s an ass.”

You gave him a tiny smile before extracting yourself from your seatbelt. “Thanks,” you’d said, and then darted through the rain like it would melt you.

–

Jin left for college at the end of the following summer, weeks before you turned seventeen. You watched through a gap in your living room curtains, curled up on the couch in your pajamas, as Mr. Kim and Jungkook helped load Jin’s boxes and bags into Mr. Kim’s car.

It felt unfair, that he got to leave, that he got to turn right out of the dead end and have a life - and you were still trapped here.

When Minji came out of the house, giving her older brother a reluctant hug, you rose, feet taking you unbidden on a course in their direction.

Minji had grinned at you. “I’m glad you’re here, you can help me move my shit into his room.”

“Yah!” Seokjin had protested, pushing her shoulder lightly. “No one said you could have my room!”

Minji stuck her tongue out at him. “You won’t be here to stop me!” She started back into the house, then turned over her shoulder and called to you, “Come on, the bed will take forever to move!”

She disappeared into the house, leaving you and Seokjin alone next to Mr. Kim’s sedan, which was packed to the brim.

You didn’t look at each other; Seokjin leaned against the car with his arms crossed, eyes on the ground. You faced the car, and him, the house on the other side. You watched the reflection of his profile in the car’s window.

What could you even say to him? What words could you pull out of your soul that weren’t a total cliche, or completely inappropriate, or both?

Don’t have too much fun.

Don’t forget me.

Please, don’t go away and fall in love without me.

I really don’t want you to go.

In the end, you told him, “See you at Christmas?” and he’d nodded silently, and you’d said, “Okay, then. Good luck with everything.”

Then you’d slinked into his house to help his little sister commandeer his bedroom.

–

That’s only part of the story, though. If you’re flipping through moments you’d shared with Jin… there was one you skipped. You avoid it, give it a wide berth, like if you step too close you might knock it from its pedestal. Like you might get sticky fingerprints all over its protective glass just from looking, somehow.

Mr. Kim had thrown Jin a graduation party in June, two months before he left for college. It had been wholesome while the sun was up - the Kim men had taken turns at the grill, little cousins had run barefoot through the yard, a table had been laden with gifts and cards, blue balloons had been tied to the porch railings.

At night, though, it seemed like both children and adults disappeared, leaving only you in-betweens. Blind eyes had been turned to the cases of beer stashed beneath the sodas in the buckets of ice. Cars full of kids parked up and down the dead end street, unloading loudly and entering the even louder house.

You’d stayed close to Minji, hadn’t even had that much to drink. But the house had been packed with people, too loud, too hot, and you’d found yourself slipping out the kitchen door sometime around one in the morning.

The lights from the house cast squares onto the driveway. Past them, a figure sat on the ground at the end of the driveway, long legs stretched out in front of him.

You’d made your way over slowly, warily. Not sure if you were wanted, not sure if you were intruding.

He’d turned to see who it was when you approached. You think you probably imagined the way he’d softened when he saw it was only you.

“You good?” you’d asked.

“‘Course,” he said - which should have been a clue that he might not be. A one word answer? From Kim Seokjin?

You paused next to him, still a bit unsure. “You sure? You’re… sitting on the ground alone, outside your own party.”

Jin huffed out a laugh at this. “I just needed some air. Some space.”

“Oh,” you said, feeling instantly like you were ruining the space he’d been craving.

“You can stay,” he’d said quickly, reading your response correctly. “I mean… I don’t mind if you’re here.”

Relief flooded you. You’d leaned against the side of the car parked there - not Mr. Kim’s sedan, you didn’t know whose car it was - and eyed him thoughtfully.

“Are you scared?” you asked. Something about the question felt right, felt like you were zeroing in on the problem.

Seokjin laughed again, a little sarcastic. “Me? Never.”

You smiled at his back, seeing right through his bravado. “About what? What’s the biggest thing?”

He’d shaken his head, pushed himself to his feet, brushed gravel from his hands, then his ass. He’d turned slowly, walked back towards the house, paused just a foot from you.

It was always you and Seokjin, in the dark.

You were always more honest with each other in the dark. Inside, he’d be all dad jokes and video games, kitchen skills and skateboard tricks.

You needed some shadows to get any idea what he was thinking. It had always been that way.

“I dunno,” he’d said, hands in his pockets. “Classes. Dorms. Not having my dad around. Not being here to watch out for Jungkook.”

“That’s more than one thing,” you’d pointed out.

He’d nodded seriously, but his lips twisted in irony, like he was thinking a very clever joke and holding it in.

“Okay then,” he said. “Let’s go with: losing my place, here. Coming back and finding out that everyone just… moved on without me.”

He’d brushed past you then, reaching out to touch your elbow lightly on his way by.

It’s been over a decade since that night, and you still don’t know if he meant his family, or you.

You’re mad at yourself the second you’re back in your car. You’d gone there uninvited, you’d cooked for him. Obviously it meant something - neither of you were stupid enough to think it didn’t. So why had you run the second he’d tried to talk to you?

You berate yourself the whole way home. And you’re not the only one who’s pissed. Jin texts you before you’re even out of the neighborhood, though you don’t see it until you park at your complex, grabbing your phone from the cup holder where you’d tossed it.

[11:28 AM] Jin 😎: im confusing YOU? [11:28 AM] Jin 😎: im not the one who came to cook you breakfast and then bolted the second it got serious [11:28 AM] Jin 😎: THAT’S confusing

Defensiveness rises up in you like a wave. Where does he get off lecturing you after the shit he pulled two years ago? Hands shaking, you fire back, “no, you bolted BEFORE breakfast. the second you got your jeans zipped, if i remember correctly.”

You throw your phone onto the passenger seat like it’s burned your hands, closing your eyes and pressing your head back into the headrest, breathing out slowly through your mouth to calm your racing heart. Fuck, those had been fighting words, for sure. But you’re pretty convinced he deserves it.

When you get brave enough to pick it up again, he hasn’t answered. You’re not sure if you’re relieved, or more worried. With a sigh, you collect your things and head inside.

“Roomieeeeee!”

You’d barely unpacked since returning from Christmas break your freshman year of college, your suitcase open on your dorm bed, a small pile of dirty clothes on the floor next to you. You’d been about to move it all to the hamper, it just hadn’t happened yet. Your college roommate, Sheyla, had just burst through the door, crowing happily when she saw you.

You got along well with Sheyla - you’d probably stay friends after college. But no one could take Minji’s place. When you and Minji decided to go to the same college, you’d agreed to live separately, to preserve your friendship. You both knew you needed breaks from each other to maintain the love.

“Hey!” you called back, flapping a hoodie out of the ball you’d scrunched it in and smelling the pits. Into the dirty pile it went. “How was your Christmas?”

Sheyla tossed her bag on the ground and flopped backwards onto her bed, fingers reaching to turn on the fairy lights you’d strung up together.

“Honestly? Boring. No one lives home by me, it was old people central the whole time. How about you?” She looks at you, suddenly sharp-eyed. “Did you see that guy? Your neighbor?”

You glanced at the door in alarm, as if Minji could have possibly materialized there, just in time to overhear.

Sheyla clocked this and laughed. “She can’t hear us! I told you your secret was safe! So, did you?”

It had been your first holiday break going home, your freshman year of college. You’d seen Jin sparingly over the last two years - two winter breaks, two summer breaks, and the odd weekend here or there if he had things going on.

You hadn’t had a conversation in that whole time; you’d been to the house to see Minji, but you hadn’t crossed paths. You texted each other on your birthdays, maybe once or twice if something interesting happened.

It had been weird, feeling things shift, noticing him slowly become someone who used to be in your life.

“Yeah, his family came to my parents’ Christmas Eve party,” you admitted. “But we really didn’t talk. He didn’t even come sit in the same room as me and Minji.”

It was true; you’d stayed in the kitchen for most of the party, wanting to avoid all your parents’ work friends, who were going to ask you about how college was going, and did you like your classes, and had you made new friends, and did you have a boyfriend yet and - you were just too tired for it.

You and Minji had sat on the kitchen counter, crossed ankles dangling, sipping at beers and watching people pass by the doorways - one out to the living room, one out to the dining room.

Seokjin hadn’t come into the kitchen once - but you knew he was out there, because you could hear his wild laugh, his high-pitched complaining as he scolded Jungkook for something he’d probably started in the first place, his voice bouncing over the low tones of the others.

Jungkook had slunk into the kitchen near the end of the party. “Jinnie wants a beer,” he’d told Minji, reaching out a hand, somehow knowing you two had a six-pack behind you.

“Why can’t he come get it?” she demanded as she reached back, fingers closing around a glass neck.

Jungkook shrugged. “He told me to get him one.”

Minji narrowed her eyes at him, the way she does when she’s assessing, deciding something. Then she handed him a second bottle. “That didn’t come from me,” she told him, and he gave her a salute before grabbing the beers and scooting back out.

“Are you and Jin fighting?” you asked, leaning back against the wooden cabinets behind you.

“Not unless he’s fighting without telling me,” she laughed. “If that’s the case, I’ll hear about it later, I’m sure.”

It had bugged you, that he seemed to be avoiding you. Then you’d glanced out into the living room, and there he was, the beer in hand.

He was standing facing Jungkook, but his eyes weren’t on his younger brother. They were on you - and Minji - but they seemed… far away. Wistful, somehow. Then, he’d noticed you looking and he’d pulled his gaze back to Jungkook fast. But the redness took over his ears and crept down his neck almost instantly.

You still weren’t sure what that was about. The most hopeful, foolish, idiotic part of you hoped it had a guess.

“Well,” Sheyla had said with a sigh. “There’s always next time.”

You’d slept over at Minji’s that night, the two of you cramming into her double bed now that you were too old for sleeping bags on the floor. In the morning, you’d rummaged in the kitchen for something to drink - something with bubbles, preferably, but water might have to do - when Seokjin had shuffled in behind you.

You’d turned, surprised, a cold can of seltzer in your hand. “Oh,” you’d said, suddenly very aware that you were still in pajamas, hadn’t bothered with a bra. You crossed your arms, hoping for nonchalance, and tried not to eye the grey sweatpants Jin sported. “I didn’t think anyone else was up. Morning.”

He’d stretched, the movement exposing a strip of belly between the sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. “Morning,” he’d answered, voice gravely from sleep.

You’d watched as he started the kettle. He kept his back to you, turning over his shoulder to see if you were still there after a minute. You wanted to ask him - well, lots of things. How was college, how was he, why was he avoiding you, why was he being so fucking weird?

His back, wide and solid, said don’t. So you’d taken your seltzer and retreated back to Minji’s bedroom, wondering if you imagined the feeling of his gaze burning on you as you fled.

–

You were twenty when Seokjin graduated from college. You were home, too, most of your school stuff yet unpacked the morning they took his graduation pictures in the front yard. Jungkook looked barely awake, rubbing his eyes sleepily as Minji fussed over trying to get his hair to lay flat. Seokjin stood in the center of the yard in his cap and gown, and you could hear him in your head complaining that they were taking too long and could they please just hurry up and take the picture. You smiled over your cup of coffee and then removed yourself from the window before you could get caught watching.

He’d had a graduation party that night. You really considered not going; it had been four years since Seokjin had left for college, two since you and Minji had, and in those four years you’d barely interacted - just the niceties when your paths had to cross, when your orbits swung you too close together again. It seemed pointless to show up when you wouldn’t even talk, when the days of stealing quiet moments away from everyone else were long gone. It seemed pointless to go, just to spend the night cataloging all the ways things had changed in four years, getting your feelings hurt for no reason at all.

Jin had said he was afraid of everyone moving on, but he’d nudged you on your way - so, really, you ought to just go.

Minji hadn’t understood. How could you explain it? “I don’t think he really wants me there,” you’d tried, sticking to the most basic truths. “Jin and I don’t really talk these days.”

“Since when did you and Jin talk in the first place?” she’d demanded, half right. “You’re there as my friend. Now come on, get changed!”

The sun was setting when you finally let yourself out the front door, calling goodbye to your parents, and making your way across the street. It was log-jammed with cars - a rare sight - and people milled through the front and side yards, red cups and plates of food in hand. It felt a bit like deja vu - you’d done this for all three Kim siblings for high school (though you and Minji had a joint celebration) and now you’d go through the cycle again as you four finished college in waves.

Despite Minji’s needling, you’d felt a little off-kilter, a little out of place. The feeling had sent you into the backyard to look for the drinks before you even found Minji.

As always at their summer parties, there was a keg tucked under the deck - you had to know they put it there, or else ask someone. You’d never find it on your own as a first-timer. You threw your shoulders back to cast off the squiggly feeling in your stomach and made your way down, grabbing a plastic cup and feeling around for the spigot.

You heard a familiar sound across the yard - Jungkook’s voice, whining that he was out of beer.

“Hyung will do it,” Seokjin said, and before you knew it he was sidling around a group of moms with their toddlers to reach the keg - and you.

He stopped when he saw you, then ducked his head and came closer, Jungkook’s empty cup in hand. His ears were tinged pink and you weren’t sure if it was from standing in the sun or… something else.

“Hey,” you’d said, taking your thumb off the spigot and watching the foam on your beer slowly fizz away. “Congrats on graduating.”

“Thanks, I guess,” he’d said, sending you a sideways grin as he pulled the spigot from your hand and started filling Jungkook’s cup.

“You guess?” you squinted at him. That grin was disarming, devious.

He shrugged. “I don’t feel like I really did anything that special. Showed up for class, turned in my homework.”

“You’re right,” you deadpanned. “I rescind my congratulations, effective immediately.”

His grin widened as he laughed, pleased that you were playing along. His gaze lingered on you before he checked on his beer again, making you warmer than you’d been walking through the almost-setting summer sun.

Things felt… charged, suddenly. Energized. You were used to Jin feeling comforting, like when you were kids. You were used to Jin feeling like an emotional black hole, everything inside you gravitating towards his center, as you did as a teenager. But this… this was new.

“Are you done at school?” he’d asked, shifting slightly closer. He released the spigot, letting the foam on his beer start to settle and you picked it up again, filling the top of your own where it had settled and left empty space.

“One more final, but it’s online,” you’d said.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Jin watch you. You wondered what would happen if you said it - told him how you felt, or told him you’d felt like he didn’t want to be near you the last few times you’d seen each other, or told him how badly you wanted your hands on him.

“What’s taking so long?” Jungkook shouted from across the yard, starting to make his way over. When he saw you at the keg, his steps slowed, understanding crossing his face.

“I had to share,” Jin explained, waving a hand at you. You handed him back the spigot, finished.

“Minji’s inside?” you asked them both, stepping out of the shadows and back into the sunlit yard.

“I think so,” Jungkook said, and you’d given them both a quick wave and headed in. You didn’t miss the way Jungkook nudged at Seokjin’s ribs, causing him to spill the top-third of his beer.

Long after sunset, after the food had been cleaned up, after the families with little kids had said goodbye and headed home, you found yourself wandering through the backyard again. Minji had gotten a phone call from the guy she was dating and went into her room to talk - you could have sat in there with her, she wouldn’t have minded, but it kind of gave you the ick to listen to her being so sickly sweet and moonstruck.

Instead, you combed the house for a familiar face. Jungkook had a whole group of friends over, and they were playing a drinking game in the basement. Your parents, who had joined the party in time for the food, had told Mr. Kim goodnight and headed across the street, telling you to text them if you decided to stay the night with Minji. Most of Jin’s college friends who had come from out of town had filtered out.

You finally found Jin, nearly at midnight. He was in his room in the dark, lit up by only his phone screen. His door was mostly closed, and you hesitated in the hall, deciding to leave him alone and go back to bugging Minji in her room.

You hadn’t even turned around to retrace your steps when he called your name. Heart thumping, you’d pushed his door open a little further, hovering in the doorway. He was laying on his bed, on top of the covers, his phone screen casting his face in blue.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, turning his head sideways to look at you.

“Minji’s on the phone with the boyfriend,” you explained. “I needed to escape.”

Jin laughed, a little sputtering.

“What are you doing?” you’d asked, taking one tentative step over the threshold. You’d been in Jin’s room very rarely in your years growing up here. It seemed like new turf.

He told you the name of the webtoon he was reading, flashing the screen at you so you could see.

You had nodded, silent, stuck in the middle of his room. You didn’t want to leave, didn’t know how to leave.

“Can I… read with you?” you asked, tentatively. You didn’t think, didn’t plan, didn’t map out how this would work or look; you just wanted to stay with him, just wanted to get closer.

Seokjin surprised you; he immediately shifted over on his bed, closer to the wall, making space for you.

You had to tell yourself to move, had to beg yourself to move before you stood still so long you made it weird. You’d never been in or on Jin’s bed, and you’d never laid that close before - certainly not since you and Minji were little kids, all laying on the floor together to watch a movie. Never in context like this.

You lay next to him gingerly, afraid to break the spell, afraid the moment would burst like a bubble on a child’s sticky, eager fingertip. You felt exactly that way: like you wanted it so much, but you knew if you touched it, it would be gone.

Your head rested next to his, close enough that you could hear his even breathing, but your bodies stayed a good foot apart.

Still, even with the space between you, you could feel his warmth. His bed smelled like him - something deep and smokey. It could have felt thrilling - it could have felt forbidden. Instead, inexplicably, it felt comforting, peaceful. Like home.

And eventually, as you stayed there, you settled in. Your breathing slowed, your pulse calmed, and you actually got caught up in the comic on the screen. Jin held his phone above you both, waiting patiently until you murmured, “Okay,” before scrolling each time.

You don’t remember falling asleep. What you remember is waking up slowly, immediately unsure where you were. The early morning light was unfamiliar, grey. You stretched, feet reaching for the end of the bed, and then went stock still as you felt someone shift beside you.

Oh god. Had you hooked up with someone? Uncommon, but not impossible.

You took a steadying deep breath, bracing yourself to face your potential mistakes, and cracked one eye open.

Seokjin breathed through his mouth, eyelids fluttering in sleep, just next to your face. You had a split second of absolute alarm, your brain making the equivalent of !!!!, before it came back to you.

You’d fallen asleep reading on his phone. Nothing had happened. But his arm was over your side, fingers resting lightly on your stomach.

You stayed as still as you could, trying to make your brain stop making sounds like a broken motor, hoping Jin wouldn’t wake before you were ready to function like a human. You considered, for a moment, leaning into the situation - rolling into the cuddle, closing your eyes and sinking back down into fuzzy darkness, your face buried in his shirt.

You closed your tired eyes, ready to do just that when your brain suddenly began operating again and your eyes flew open, one hand slapping the mattress in panic.

Minji. If you were in Seokjin’s bed, that meant you were in the Kims’ house, which meant Minji was on the other side of the wall - could catch you, had possibly already caught you.

Heart pounding practically in your throat, you slipped slowly out from under Seokjin’s arm. He had stirred, rolling a little, tucking that arm closer to his chest now that it had nothing to hold. He didn’t wake. You breathed a sigh of relief and started hunting around for your phone. You found it on the ground - it must have fallen off the bed in the middle of the night.

When you checked it, your question was answered -

[1:52 AM] Minji: did you go home??? [2:07 AM] Minji: you could have said goodbye!!! 😠

You press your phone to your chest out of sheer relief. She hadn’t found you, hadn’t peeked into his room on her way through the house last night, hadn’t spotted you two spooning of all things.

“Christ,” you’d muttered, frustrated with yourself for the close call, for falling asleep, for being so stupid over Seokjin even now when you were grown and had separate lives.

You had slinked out of his room on tiptoe, had scooted through the house as quickly and silently as you could, scarcely breathing until you were safely behind the walls of your own house across the street.

You and Jin never talked about it. A precedent, really.

–

The path of your orbit swung you out again - back to college, away from home, back into your world of classes and dorm life. The pieces of your adult life started to click into place as your senior year spun by - grad programs, internships, hints at a life in a different universe than the one you’ve known.

You and Minji graduated, returned for the summer.

There was a night you’d laid across from Minji on the swinging bench in their backyard, her feet in your lap. You two swang gently, eyes on the constellations above you, listening to music play from Minji’s bluetooth speaker.

“Next year’s gonna be weird,” you said, because it was all you could think about, then. You’d gone to college together, but you wouldn’t be together for grad school.

“We’ll be fine,” Minji had murmured, eyes closing.

You’d nudged her with your foot. “Don’t go to sleep. I’m trying to talk to you. I’m nervous.”

She had opened one eye, nudged you right back. “We’ll be fine,” she repeated, more firmly. “It’s not like we’re going to live on campuses in different states. I’ll be right here. You won’t be far, either.”

You lapsed into silence again. The swing tilted you back and forth, lulling you half to sleep.

“I broke up with that guy,” you muttered, half hoping she wouldn’t hear you. Instead, she sat straight up, almost overbalancing the swing and dumping you both on the ground.

“You what?” she asked. “Why?”

“I just wasn’t feeling it,” you explained. You were twenty-one that summer, starting to look at apartments you’d be able to afford while working part-time around grad classes. “Honestly, I was just bored.”

“You always say that,” she accused flatly. “I’ve never understood this about you. Everybody bores you. No one… sticks.” Her voice softens and she adds, “I worry about you.”

You laughed, once, and struggled to sit up. “I’m fine, Minji. None of them were… right. Someone will be.”

“But how will you know?” she pressed. “If you don’t give anyone a chance, how will you know when it’s right?”

Your chest clenched. Because I know what it feels like when it is, you thought, but you couldn’t say that.

“I just will,” you’d muttered, not an answer. You’d gotten up from the swing, heading for the house. “I need some water.”

As soon as you open the kitchen door, Jin jumped a mile. He’d been standing at the kitchen sink… next to the open window.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Were you listening?” you demanded.

Jin had flushed pink before you even spoke, telling on himself. “No,” he said hotly. “I was just here, and the window happened to be open, and -”

“And you eavesdropped,” you finished.

He faced you, lips pursed thoughtfully. “How come no one sticks?” he asked.

You honestly thought you heard him wrong. “What?” you’d uttered, sure he’d repeat himself and say something else entirely.

“Why,” he said again, more slowly, “haven’t any of the guys you’ve dated lasted?”

There was a roaring in your ears as you stared back at him.

“What am I supposed to say to that?” you countered, your voice suddenly a whisper. “Jin, what do I say to that?”

He stepped closer, looking down at you, suddenly dangerously close to being in your space. He murmured your name, reached for your hand. His thumb stroked the back of your hand once, his eyes on yours imploringly.

What were you supposed to say - “because none of them were you”?

The kitchen door opened with a slam and you leapt apart, Seokjin dropping your hand and wheeling around to face the kitchen sink again. With shaking hands you reached for a cabinet that held cups and glasses, rummaging like you were trying to find a good one.

“Get me one of those, please,” Minji asked, poking you in the side as she passed you, before plopping into a kitchen chair.

“Sure,” you’d said, praying that your voice wouldn’t give you away. Seokjin slipped away, down the hall, into the shadows.

–

“What do you think of the wine?”

You were in spanx, a black velvet dress Minji had bullied you into buying, heels that made your ankles swell, and a lipstick called Pretty Petunia.

The wine was too sweet for your liking.

But for the sake of your date, who’d made you reservations at a fancy Italian place, you’d smiled and demurred, “Not bad. What do you think?”

You barely heard his answer. It was your third date, and you’d been more bored at each one. He hadn’t made you laugh even once.

As the candle flame between you flickered and danced, you downed two more glasses of the too-sweet wine and did serious damage to the bread basket. When your date asked you if you wanted to go back to his place for a nightcap, you lied and said you had an assignment due by midnight for grad school and needed to get home.

When he dropped you back at your parents’, you showered and got into sweatpants. You climbed on your bed and pushed your curtain aside just a few inches, leaning your arms on the windowsill and laying your head on them. Your phone buzzed by your leg - the date.

You didn’t answer.

You kept your eyes on the window, on the Kims’ house.

Seokjin had moved out earlier that day - really moved out, taking everything with him to an apartment a plane ride away.

You hadn’t told him goodbye, hadn’t snuck out to the moving van for one last moment. He hadn’t texted you, hadn’t looked up towards your window.

He’d just left, and you’d sat here and watched him go.

You rotated in place, wobbling as Seokjin slipped further from your life. You adjusted to the procession. Life hurtled on.

–

The first time you brought a boyfriend home, you were twenty-four. Three years had passed since Seokjin moved away, two since you moved out of your parents and into your “swanky” apartment, one since Minji had moved to her own place not too far from you.

You didn’t have any expectations for your parents’ Christmas Eve party - the three Kim kids were around some Christmases, but not all. You hadn’t seen all three of them on the same day since before Seokjin had moved out. You knew Minji was coming - you’d texted. The boys? Who knew.

You were excited to see Minji for the first time in a while. You were nervous to bring your boyfriend around your extended family. You were trying desperately to keep Seokjin from even crossing your mind. You weren’t excited to see him. You weren’t nervous to see him. You tried to keep the Seokjin part of your brain perfectly blank as you led your boyfriend, Daniel, up the front walk of your parents’ house, careful to point out the ever-present icy patch near the front door.

Your parents greeted Daniel warmly. You’d been dating about two months, and he’d met them not that long ago. He was a nice guy, at the end of the day.

“Come on,” you murmured to him, after you’d hung up your coats and taken off your shoes. “I have to introduce you to my aunts. I’m sorry in advance?”

He’d look at you wide-eyed, nervous. “Why are you sorry?”

“They’re just… loud,” you’d said, already steeling yourself for the squeals and hullabaloo.

Daniel held up surprisingly well, smiling genuinely and repeating everyone’s name back to them to make sure he remembered it. He was a nice guy.

Christmas Eve dinner went smoothly. You sat near Minji, the two of you catching up in quiet voices as the loud conversation flowed around you. Daniel, bless him, kept up with the larger conversation, taking a more active role with your family than you were.

After the meal, people floated around the house in groups. Someone put on a Christmas movie in the living room, you helped your mom put desserts out in the dining room.

You were standing in the living room, leaning against Daniel a little, chatting with Minji and watching the Christmas movie over her shoulder when the front door opened, shooting a blast of winter air through the room. That’s what made you look up - the chill.

Seokjin came through the door with his eyes down, working his feet out of his boots before the door was even shut behind him.

“Jinnie!” Minji cried.

A few things happened in quick succession. Your chest clenched, your stomach dropped.

Seokjin’s gaze followed his sister’s voice, then found you. You watched it on his face as he processed - seeing you, recognition and affection flickering to life, then confusion as he took in the stranger behind you, and then his face went absolutely unreadable.

Daniel wrapped his arm around you, hard, pulling you against him wordlessly. He’d never been so assertive the whole time you’d known him.

Later, he’d asked you, “Is there history with you and Minji’s brother? It seemed, when he showed up…”

Weeks later, when he ended things, bitterness caused him to spit, “Call Minji’s brother and cry about it.”

So much for a “nice guy”.

You’d wished you could call Minji’s brother to cry about it. He would have made you smile again.

–

Jin’s shoulders were under your fingers, his ragged breath in your ear, his lips on your jaw. Nothing existed but him. Everything you’d spent almost your entire life hoping for was right here, within grasp - he’d called you beautiful, he’d pressed his lips to yours like he’d die if he didn’t, he kept you safe in the space between your arms if only for a few moments.

Then, he’d stepped away carefully, holding you up a bit until you were steady on your feet again. You adjusted your skirt as he zipped his jeans and stepped away towards the trash bins - to deal with the condom, you realized. Then he was back, close enough that you could see him in the dark again.

You didn’t know what to say to him. You didn’t know how to ask if this was what you hoped it was - if he wanted you, really wanted you, wanted to be with you. You didn’t want to look stupid - stupider - if this was just sex, nothing else.

“You probably shouldn’t come in right after me,” Seokjin said. Was there something glum in his voice, or were you paranoid? “Minji will sniff that out so fast.”

“Yeah,” you said. Your voice sounded warped to your own ears. “Got it.”

Got it. This didn’t mean a thing.

You stayed there, pressed close to the house, hiding in the shadows long enough for your pulse to calm, long enough to start to shiver. You hadn’t gone back inside at all - instead, you’d crossed the street and entered your parents’ house, falling asleep in your childhood bed.

It was fitting. You’d cried yourself to sleep as a child and teenager plenty of times in that bed. Might as well do it again.

In the morning, New Year’s Day, you’d texted Minji, “what’s up at your house?”

She’d answered, “dad just took jinnie to catch his plane. why? whats up?”

You’d played it off, said something like “just wondered if you were as hungover as i am”. You laid on your childhood bed and stared at the ceiling, tracing the bumps and cracks you knew by heart. You reminded yourself that you hadn’t asked Jin for anything, hadn’t told him anything. You had no right to be upset with him.

The only move was forward. So, that’s what you would do. You’d move on, and so would he.

Which doesn’t explain why now, two years later, you’re furious again.

You avoid the neighborhood, try to slip back into your old habits and old routine.

Your mother, of course, calls you out.

“Haven’t seen you in a bit,” she says to you on the phone, a few days after you’d made Jin hangover soup. She keeps her voice so innocent, but you hear the unsaid - you were here so much and then you stopped.

“Want to go out for dinner?” you suggest. “I’ll treat you and Dad to somewhere good?”

“I already started cooking for later,” she says. She sounds sorry, but you’re beyond sure it’s all a trap. She proves you right by adding, “You could come here for dinner, though. I made your favorite.”

Of course you did, you tricky devil, you think darkly.

“Okay,” you say, long-suffering. “I’ll come for dinner.”

“We’ll see you at seven,” your mom says, and hangs up.

You feel entirely like you’ve been hoodwinked. You’re just not sure how yet.

When you arrive for dinner, you walk in warily, half expecting an unpleasant surprise of some sort. But you find just your parents, delicious food, and a quiet house.

You eye your mother suspiciously through the whole meal, but nothing out of the ordinary happens. You help your dad wash the dishes when you’re all done, spend a little time sitting around chatting. Eventually, you eye the clock and tell them you should get home. You give them quick hugs at the door and step out into the night, pulling the door shut behind you.

Across the street, the Kims’ house is all lit up. Minji’s car is parked in the street, not far from your own, which means she’s there too. You wonder how many more days Seokjin will be in town, before he fucks off back to his own city again. He’d said he’d stay for a few weeks, and you’re already nearing the halfway point.

You were stupid to even talk to him again. You were stupid to go to their house, knowing he was there. You were stupid to let him flirt with you at the bar, to nearly let him kiss you. You were stupid to show up, uninvited, and fucking cook for him like a goddamn girlfriend. You shouldn’t have done any of it. You should have stayed away.

You’re all worked up, thinking this, as you stalk through your parents’ front yard, pushing the button to unlock your car. You open the driver’s side door, still fuming, furious at yourself.

The door is jerked out of your hand as someone slams it shut.

Seokjin faces you darkly, one hand still on your car.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you scold him. “Seokjin, what the fuck.”

“We have a conversation to finish,” he says, ignoring this.

You close your eyes, lean sideways onto your car. You don’t have the energy for this. “I have nothing to say,” you tell him, opening your eyes again to look up at him. “I’m sorry I threw a cheap shot at you. All that… it doesn’t matter now.”

“It doesn’t matter?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

You shake your head. “It was so long ago, and it didn’t mean anything… I shouldn’t have even brought it up again.”

His brows furrow. He murmurs your name, the same way he had in the back hallway at the bar. “I don’t think you mean that,” he says gently, and it makes you even angrier, angry that you have to stand here and feel foolish while he gets to pity you.

“Which part?” you snap. “It was two years ago, we haven’t talked in those two years, and bringing it up has been completely fucking pointless, so where’s the lie?”

He grimaces, shaking his head a little. “I wondered for months if I’d hurt you… if you were upset. I was really hoping you weren’t. But, clearly…”

“Fuck you,” you tell him, a derisive laugh edging its way into your tone. “You don’t get to show up out of nowhere and feel bad about it two years later. I’m over it - I’ve been over it. I just never got to tell you to your face that you were an asshole, and now I can.”

“I was in a bad place that night,” he says, trying to explain. “I only -”

“I don’t want your explanation,” you snap, cutting him off. “Believe it or not, Seokjin, I’m not, like, dying to hear the list of reasons why you were out of your head enough to make a mistake like me, that night.”

He literally steps away, eyes wide, his hand falling from your car and slapping the side of his leg as it lands. “Mistake?” he echoes, horrified. “Is that what you think?”

This trips you, knocks you completely off the furious track you’d been barreling down. “What?” you say, unconsciously trying to buy yourself time to process, to formulate a response.

He steps back toward you, closing the space between you. One of his hands comes up and rests on your cheek. For some reason, you let it, staying still and allowing it. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “It didn’t mean nothing. It wasn’t a mistake, and I should never have let you think differently.”

And then he’s kissing you, slow and gentle, nothing like the fiery kiss you’d shared two years ago. His thumb strokes your cheek so gently it almost tickles. You open for him, letting him take you deeper, tilting your head back to give him more room as he shifts to press you against your car. Your mouth moves against his, his tongue teasing at your bottom lip. Then he’s sucking lightly at it as you sigh against his lips. Your hands are clutching his jacket, your hips pushing against his like they’re asking for trouble.

And then you’re opening both hands and pushing him away, scrambling to get your car door open again. He looks at you, bewildered, your name a question falling from his lips.

“I can’t do this again,” you tell him brokenly, as honest as you can be. “I can’t do it again. I think it’ll kill me if I do.”

You drop heavily into the driver’s seat, tug the door shut, and pull away. You buckle up as you drive away, Seokjin getting smaller and smaller in your side mirror, standing in the middle of the street in the dark, watching you go.

You drive five more blocks and then pull over, pressing your hands to your face as you gasp for air through shuddering, stomach-clenching sobs.

Seokjin was seventeen the first time you got drunk at his house, really drunk.

He felt responsible, since it had been his own fault - it was his friend Yoongi who’d come over with a handle of vodka. He’d been the one to tell you and Minji you could have a little. So when he watched you use hands and feet to climb the stairs and head up towards his kitchen, he’d followed, to make sure you didn’t fall down and get hurt.

He knew you’d gone outside because you’d left the kitchen door wide open. He’d followed, silently, closing the kitchen door behind himself. You were laying on your back in the yard, hands clutching fistfuls of grass, eyes on the sky above.

He’d laid next to you, a few feet away, asked you how the yard was.

“Spinning,” you’d told him, the word so badly slurred he almost couldn’t tell what you’d said.

And then you’d flopped your head towards him, those eyes swimming with something he thought he could understand, and you’d said, “Sometimes I feel like everyone looks right through me. Like maybe I’ll be see-through forever.”

Seokjin had reached across the grass, taking your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. He’d given your hand one squeeze, and you’d closed your eyes, turning your face back up towards the stars.

“I can see you,” he’d assured you. He didn’t know if you’d remember in the morning or not. But it had felt important to make sure you knew.

He could see you.

He had always been able to see you.

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ehehehehe i hope you liked this update!!! a little peek backwards :) thank you for reading and i hope you continue to enjoy!!!!!

i'm taking a week off of posting because I am traveling for a Family Event (send help) so part 3 will post on Friday, June 16th. thank you for understanding!

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absolutebl · 8 months

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This week in BL - Gay Boy Turf Wars Galore!

Also, ALL the guest couples: TutorYim & MacNat showed up in Korea. Korea also reused the Love Class pair. And Wayne Song & Huang Chun Chih (H3:MODC) popped up AGAIN. (To be fair, when does Wayne not show up in a Taiwanese BL?)

Entirely subjective yadda yadda. Organized by favs in each category. No numbered lists anymore, tumblr be buggn'.

Aug 2023 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Laws of Attraction (Sat iQIYI) 7 of 8 - Plot reveals galore + all the penultimate tension we could want. (How many different kinds of smiles does Film have in his arsenal?) OMG I LOVE the unhinged idiot bloody tattooed ex bf - intro music and all. He is my precious psycho-bunny-snookums. Also Tinn, baby-boy, communicating about your honest feelings in a BL? What madness is this? I sense doom incoming. Smart Chan, always tell him he’s better in bed than your ex. The sides getting caught! Noooooo. I mean we knew it would happen but still noooooooo!

I Feel You Linger in the Air (Sat YT) ep 2 of 12 - I like the surreal slip-stream dream-sequence openings. Is it a cerebral examination of temporal paradox or just designed to creep us out? The pace has picked up a bit and I'm delighted that external threat, stressors, and conflict are driving this plot. Refreshing. I love historicals - every touch and action can have such lingering significance, it’s very elegant. Thai BLs can often feel clumsy but not this one. I’m really enjoying it.

Dangerous Romance (Fri YT) ep 2 of 12 - Sailom is great. I love a smartass who’s actually really smart, reminds me of Bai Luo Yin in Addicted. (The real Addicted.) Never a bad thing. Kang is nasty bit of business, I look forward to his redemption arc. I love his grandma. (BL is giving good grandma right now.) Nicely executed narrative twist into sympathy too: rich kid sees how rough life really is. The complexity of character depth needed for this script makes me so happy it's Perth & Chimon, they both have such expressive nuanced faces.

I do keep wanting to rewatch LBC tho.

Only Friends (Sat YT) ep 3 of 10 - It remains a blast. Boston is king of red flags, cutting down Ray because he is the easiest punching bag? Going after his friend's bf just to prove he can? No thank you. I know Ray is lovely when he’s soft but danger zone, Sand. Be careful upon entering a minefield, every little step forward may cause an explosion. I don’t think being master of snark is gonna help you avoid getting blown up.

Sand is the one I feel the worst for - bi guy strays into cesspit of gay toxicity. He ain’t gonna make it out alive.

Hidden Agenda (Sun GMMTV YouTube) ep 7 of 10 - The boyfriends date ep! Zo’s past explains a lot about his behavior. Flirty Zo is v dangerous to all our hearts. Nice kiss. Poor Joke. Meanwhile, the side couple gave good kiss too! However, why is Title playing the bad guy again? Did GMMTV bring him in just to be resident jerk face in all their BL? Makes me sad.

Be Mine Super Star (Mon Viki) ep 8 of 12 - This should be a 8 or 10 ep show, 12 is too many. I think I just don’t like the lead couple's character dynamic and personalities. (No shade on JaFirst.) Side couple went startlingly high heat allasudden. And while their sex scene was good, I wish Daddy and the Hot Doc were being given a lot more script, screen time, and character dev. Sigh. I guess I just wish they were the mains and the others were the sides.

Can't have everything, I suppose.

Wedding Plan (Wed YT & iQIYI) ep 6 of 7 - Nuea is a saint and next week everything comes to a head (that didn’t already get head this episode). Trash watch here!

Love in Translation (Sat iQIYI) ep 2 of 10 - The side couple is everything. They are so cute and my favorite trope. Plus hugs with neck kisses! I love big brother using his adorable boyfriend to try and help his annoying little brother’s business. It’s just perfect. Unfortunately, that annoying little brother, is too fucking annoying. I remain largely unable to watch the main story arc.

My Universe (Sun iQIYI) 1 of 24 eps - Sampler pack BL, 12 pairs, each pair gets 2 eps, so this show will run all the way into 2024.

First installment is Casanova Begins. Dead boy wakes up in his enemy’s body, 2 years after his own death. Has to make things right with the boyfriend who thinks he was abandoned. Everyone has secrets. No one can be trusted. And the dead kid can never tell anyone who he really is. It’s … different? Unique take on the My Ghost Boyfriend trope.

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Jun & Jun (Korea Thur Viki) ep 6 of 8 - Random moment of TutorYim. Hi cuties. Simon is my favorite, I love him and his flirty irreverent ways.

Who does he actually like?

Or is he just flirting with everyone?

Can he have a crush on anyone but himself?

He’s a house cat among the pigeons. Clearly wouldn't know what to do with the bird if he managed to catch it. Or would he?

The 4 boys dodging around each other and re-shuffling is so funny. I can’t tell you how delighted this show makes me. I do feel sorry for Lee Jun, he’s just the toy everyone wants to play with. I understand his frustration, do any of them really want him or is it all because the others are interested? Kiss! Yay! Good kiss! Even more yay!

Stay By My Side (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 9 of 10 - Poor baby doesn’t think he’s good enough and is holding JC back. They are THE CUTEST BOYFRIENDS. It hurts. The sappy.

Kisseki: Dear to Me (Taiwan Tues Viki & iQIYI) eps 1-2 of 13(?) - From screenwriter Lin Pei Yu (We Best Love, H3: Trapped) formerly known as Miracle, features a student doctor forced to take care of a gangster. I love the premise and like the writer. This one could be sad. Never forget Taiwan will go there.

Shall we get tucked in?

Gay boy turf wars! Main couple is cute. Sunshine gangster (turns out to be a sweetie who cooks) meets broken brilliant tsundere student who wants to be a doctor. Side couple is the leader of the gang and his rabid Pet. Also, all praise the guest couple de jour (baddies). Nice to see you 2... again. All actors are clearly having a blast with this script.

Triggers for knife play, child abuse, lingering trauma.

Love Class Season 2 (Korea Fri Viki) eps 5-6 of 10 - Aw guest couple from Love Class original, that is very sweet. The tutor and returning student, aka couple 3, are the best. So funny. But the whole thing remains engaging in a messy way.

Why R U? (Korea Wed iQIYI) eps 1-2 of 8 - Oh, it’s very odd. Certainly a lot more comprehensible if you've already watched the Thai version. As with that version, I still dislike the SaifahZon couple and love the FighterTutor couple. And once again I hate the weird IRL shipping sister. HATE HER. I’m not mad at the "Man who Fell into the World of BL" overtones but I wish they went at it more intentionally. (They’re not using NPC the way I would, are they? Cause that’s hella cruel.) MaxNat are fun. I love that Fighter went to his girlfriend's birthday party, didn’t even say hi to her, picked up her drunk bestie, and took him home.

This show is WILD. It’s very Korea tries to do a Thai BL. And, I gotta say, I kind of like the absurdity of the whole scheme. Do I think it will ultimately "work" as a stand alone piece? No. But as a very odd kind of parody? Sure.

Minato's Laundromat Season 2 AKA Minato Shouji Coin Laundry Season 2 (Japan Thu Gaga) ep 7 of 12 - Truth always comes out in hot springs. It's a rule of life. Coming clean is coming clean, I suppose. Still, moving very slowly for me and I need sake to get through this season. It's certainly suffering from sophomore slump.

Stay Still (Hong Kong Tues YouTube) ep 4 of 5 - Sad episode is sad.