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jungkxook · 3 years

Text

—hot boy bummer. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / friends with benefits / friends to lovers + smut

⟶ words: 14,633

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: when jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? after all, what are best friends for?

⟶ warnings: kind of a crack fic, sprinkle of angst, way too casual conversations mid-sex, jealous jungkook, slight himbo jungkook tbh (he’s kind of a sweet loveable idiot), he also has a big dick oops, man bun and blonde jungkook to feed my fantasies!, multiple smut scenes!!!, missionary, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation (mostly jungkook hating himself), brief name calling, light choking, sort of praise kink

⟶ note: this was inspired by a number of things but mainly do me by kim petras being on jungkook’s spotify playlist, this tiktok sound, and this tumblr post lol also big thank you to @bratkook and @onherwings for letting me ramble on about this fic and reigniting my inspo for it 💛

( p.s. i tried to proofread this but if y’all see any typos no u didn’t, thank u <3 )

Being friends with Jungkook meant a myriad of things but mainly that there were hardly ever any boundaries that stood between you and him.

Having known him for most of your life, it was just a quintessential part of yours and his relationship with one another. From high school parties where you drunkenly spewed on his shoes and in his dad’s car after he tried lugging you home (and taking the fall all himself for your sake) to letting him lose his virginity in your bed to some girl you didn’t know because your parents were out of town and his would crucify him on the spot if they had found out; or him discovering your stash of vibrators in your dorm one day, or seeing each other naked more often than was probably necessary, there was nothing that either of you could do that would phase the other at this point even when it maybe, probably, definitely should.

College, and Jungkook’s sudden six pack of hard rock abs, only seemed to amplify the chaos of your friendship. If you’re being honest, the abs are sort of a plus ━ but they brought an air of fuckboy to him that is undeniably there even if he tries to deny it sometimes. You suppose it isn’t all his fault. Jungkook has always been bold and brash, attractively charming. Considering he’s seemingly made it his mission to sleep with every girl on campus before he graduates (undisclosed, if you’re being honest, because he’s never outwardly admitted it but you have a hunch), his confidence somehow hasn’t failed him yet.

But then there’s one night in which you think to yourself briefly: this surely must draw some sort of line.

“What if we, like, had sex?”

Jungkook says this a little too casually from beside you. He’s sat on the couch in his dorm, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, and you’re sprawled out on the remaining space, feet kicked up in his lap. You’re positive he’s drunk but, then again, so are you. The remnant shot glasses of soju you had both started the night with (though you think Jungkook’s had half the bottle himself), and your second glass of wine, are all evidence of that. You’re so absorbed by some anime Jungkook had been watching upon your arrival and refused to change that you almost don’t hear what he says. Almost. You do, however, nearly choke on the gummy bear you’ve just tossed into your mouth.

After a sudden hysterical fit of coughs, you manage to sputter, “Excuse me?”

“Like, hypothetically speaking.” He hardly budges when you turn to gawk at him, as if he’s asking you something as casual as what to eat for dinner or if you could pass him the T.V. remote. “Except, not really hypothetically.”

“You’re joking, right?” You scoff.

Jungkook blinks. “No. Why would I be joking?”

You blink. The longer you stare at him, the quicker you’re able to discern that there’s some sort of earnesty in his words and it slightly concerns you. Suddenly, you’re warm in the face. To distract from that painfully obvious fact, an incredulous laugh bubbles at your lips and you kick one of your feet at his thighs. “Very funny, Koo. Can we change the show now if you’re not even watching it?”

“I’m not joking, Y/N.” The severity in his tone makes you sit up at once. When you turn to look at him, he flashes you a taunting smirk, though the devious sparkle in his eyes lets you know this seems to be anything but a joke to him. “I’m sure you’ve thought of me naked before.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot━” Okay, so maybe you have thought of him naked before but how is it your fault when you literally have seen him naked before, and he’s so unabashed around you? “Should I bring you to a hospital to get your head checked, or━?”

“Just hear me out━” Now, he pushes himself to the edge of the sofa. “Why are you here right now?”

“In life? Because I honestly have no clue━”

“No, I meant here. Getting drunk in my apartment on a Friday night instead of getting railed.”

“Okay, I didn’t ask to get called out like that,” You grumble stiffly. “And because you’re my best friend, and I like spending time with you.” It’s not entirely a lie, because you would much rather spend time with Jungkook than anyone else. But when you feel his eyes boring into you in a look of scrutiny, your lips form into a pout which you try to hide by puckering them. “Also because boys are stupid and Hoseok’s blind date stood me up. Again.”

The events from hours earlier resurface in your memory, in which you had spent all evening making yourself look pretty for a boy you had only talked to through text that your roommate had introduced you to, only to arrive to the restaurant you were supposed to be meeting at and waiting there for half an hour by yourself before the boy had sent you a message saying something along the lines of “something came up, hope we can reschedule,” filing it under one of the lamest excuses you’ve ever heard because it hardly even borders on a valid excuse. It’s what had ultimately made you storm into Jungkook’s apartment an hour ago, exclaiming aloud as a greeting with a simple yet scarily cheerful I hate men! because Jungkook knows all about your plights with finding a significant other (or even just someone decent enough to open your legs to), usually lamenting men’s inability to have any emotions. Even the ones who you think are respectable enough, who say they’re fine not having sex on the first date, usually tend to flee right after you finally let them in because sex, as you come to find, seems to be all that men care about.

Admittedly, Jungkook is not any different.

“But it’s not like you’re any better.”

This seems to personally offend Jungkook. He looks at you cynically. “Me?”

“Tell me why you’re here with me on a Friday night when you’re literally one of the hottest guys on campus,” You point out. “You can get any girl, and yet you somehow manage to ruin it every single time. Like with Eunha.”

Jungkook winces. The poor Eunha in question is a pretty girl from your chem class, whomst Jungkook had somehow managed to charm. From what you know, they had hooked up a handful of times before that fateful night in which Jungkook had abruptly broken things off with her. If you’re being honest, he’s not a total monster. The only thing that seems to scare him away is when a girl asks to cuddle him in the morning or talks about the prospective future together. He doesn’t want to hurt them, he told you once before, and finds it much easier to nip any potential relationship in the bud before it can get too far, too out of control.

“We literally only slept together three times anyway and we never went out,” Jungkook points out. “What’s the big deal?”

A roll of your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. “Yeah, it’s not her fault you’re scared of commitment.”

“Nu’uh,” The boy sulks. “I’m only scared of realistic things, like microwaves.”

A snort bubbles at your lips, and it’s frustrating how adorable he finds the simple action. Rather than entertain the thought of his irrational fear of kitchen appliances (because you’ve heard it all before, and you still can’t find where he was incited with the terror of an exploding microwave), you sit up.

“Jungkook, I don’t even like you like that.”

“I don’t like you like that either. That’s why it’s so perfect!” Jungkook says brightly. “Look, we know each other better than anyone else ever could. We’re already comfortable with each other. We don’t have to go through all that boring small talk. All I’m saying is we could give it a try. No relationship, no emotions, just sex.”

You consider the thought for a moment, weigh the pros and cons in your head.

The cons? He’s your best friend.

The pros? He’s your best friend, and he’s hot.

Truthfully, your slightly buzzed mind can find very little to dissuade you away from the inviting proposition and maybe that’s why you begin to entertain the idea. And, sure, you had just complained profusely about how men sometimes only used you for sex, but it’s not like you don’t have needs too. You just don’t have the gusto in you anymore to spend days on a boy who will only just leave you the moment you let him have sex with you. At least with Jungkook, he’s already offering you a blatant deal of sex only and you know you won’t have to worry about him breaking your heart; and he doesn’t have to worry about the dreaded dreamy post-sex cuddle talk of a future family and babies and a white picket-fence home. It’s a win-win for the both of you, really. Or maybe you’re just telling yourself that.

“How would we even start?” You ask finally. “I mean… Do you even find me attractive enough in that way?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook hardly bats a lash. He meets your stare, licks slowly at his lower lip. When he sees the cross look of disbelief scrunching at your face, he hastens to respond. “I’m not blind. You’re fucking drop dead gorgeous, Y/N.”

“But physically attractive? I’m no hot girl Eunha.”

“If I wanted Eunha, I’d be between her legs right now. Y/N, of course I think you’re attractive.” A gentle sliver of a smile dances upon his lips. He leans his head on the back of the couch, eyes fluttering over your appearance shortly. “I’ve always liked your lips, and your eyes. Think they’re beautiful.”

Suddenly, you’re flustered again. The room feels as if it’s getting increasingly warmer, yet you seem to want to bask in the feeling and attention a little longer. “That’s too sentimental.”

“It’s true though.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’ve always had a thing for idiots,” You jest playfully. “Jerks, too. Playboys who are too hot for their own good.”

“Ah, and I love it when you talk dirty to me.” A cheeky grin tugs at his lips as he clutches at his heart over his chest. “It’s a good thing I like it a little too much, knowing you’ll always keep me in check.”

But then the mirth seems to fade from your mind long enough for you to hum aloud pensively, “And I’ve always liked your eyes. I’ve never seen such big eyes before. Sometimes, if I look long enough, it’s like I can see the stars in them.”

As you’re speaking about them, his irises glisten magnificently. He bites at his lip now, as if to hide the way his soft smile turns sheepish. “I like your bum.”

“Really? I always worry it’s too flat.”

“Are you kidding? Your ass is a fucking god-send. It’s hard not to stare when you wear leggings sometimes,” Jungkook admits, earning a small giggle from you. “And I like your boobs. I’ve always wondered…” He trails off abruptly, shaking his head. He shoots you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”

“Well, maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

Silence saturates the room now, settling comfortably between the two of you. He wonders what you’re thinking, and you wonder if he can hear your heart hammering against your chest. Perhaps on any other day when you were of sound mind, you could find a plethora of reasons as to why sleeping with your best friend was a terrible idea. But being that you were slightly tipsy, and Jungkook isn’t far off, you can find not one fault, except for maybe how tragically hot Jungkook looks sitting across from you and how he’s never been yours, at least in that way. Would it be so wrong to try just once?

You shift then, pushing yourself to your knees if only so you can worm your way towards him before swinging one leg over his. You settle back on his lap, hands gripping his shoulders. He can feel your core press against the inside of his thigh, just where his dick is nestled and he has to bite back a moan. His eyes are wider than usual, as if believing the moment to be surreal, though something sultry threatens to darken them.

“Y/N…”

The excitement crackles through your veins like electricity. You’ve never been in such a compromising position with Jungkook before, and you wonder if it should be concerning just how much you’re enjoying it. It almost feels as if time slows down, every second dragging on, yet he can’t look away. His hands come to tug at your hoodie (that he’s almost positive was his once upon a time before you nicked it from his closet) and you meet him part way, replacing his efforts as you pull it up and off your body. Then, you’re sitting back on his lap in your full nude glory, chest bare and right in his face. He eyes the swell of your breasts, the perk of your nipples. Of course you’re not wearing anything beneath your hoodie ━ and, god, he loves it.

“Touch me?”

Your voice comes to him in an almost dream. You reach for his hand then, your palm soft around his knuckles and the tattoos that ink his skin. It’s the same hand of which he wears the other half to your pair of friendship bracelets in one of his favourite colours of red, decorated with little pink hearts. It came in a matching set of two (yours in your own favourite colour, currently on the wrist of the hand you’re using to guide Jungkook’s), cute little macrame braid ones with hearts woven into the design that you had pointed out one day while you were both at the mall and he had bought without any hesitation mostly as a joke but resulted in both of you wearing them on a daily basis.

Now, all he can do is continue watching you with bated breath as you guide his hand right where you both want him. He comes to cup the underside of one of your breasts, your hand over his pressing his fingers tighter together until you can feel some sort of pleasant pressure. And, just like that, something feral and needy seems to snap within him. His hand slithers from your grasp if only so he can flick his thumb across your nipple, mesmerized by the softness of it. He’s only ever seen you naked once before and it was fleeting. You were both drunk, skinny dipping in a lake with a handful of other friends, but it had been too dark to notice much else. But now? Now, he can see all of you and the sight strikes a chord right down to his dick.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Jungkook groans.

“Koo.” The cute little nickname you had given him sounds dirty now as it slips from your lips in a moan. “Too sentimental.”

But Jungkook isn’t listening because you really, really, really are so beautiful. He bows his head to your chest, catching one of your nipples in his mouth. He murmurs something against your chest that sounds akin to, “We can take things slow.”

“Slow…” Your head is spinning, but it’s a delightful sensation. Something hard pokes against your ass now, and the adrenaline only seems to build within you. It’s odd how everything feels so foreign ━ exploring his body and these newfound feelings like the uncharted territory it is ━ yet secure and safe at the same time. As if you know what to do next, where to touch next, how to move, your bodies almost fitting together like pieces to a puzzle. “Y-Yeah, I like that. Can I move?”

“Fuck, yes, please,” he growls. He’s much too busy nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin on your chest, teeth tugging at your nipple.

You hurry to obey, giving a small experimental swivel of your hips that almost immediately has the both of your inhaling a sharp breath of air. His dick strains against his sweatpants, the material doing very little in protecting him against you. Your core throbs as you rub yourself on him.

“Like this?” You rasp.

“Yeah, just like that.” Jungkook’s head rolls back onto the couch, his eyes squeezing shut and his blonde hair spilling into his eyes. He clenches his jaw, the nerves fluttering in the corner, as pure euphoria riddles his features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so sexy. “Fuck, we probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Yeah,” You agree, breathless. “Do you wanna stop?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“Thank god.” The sigh of relief that emits from Jungkook startles even him but, in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t register how any of this could be a mistake. “Ah, shit━ Faster━”

“Mmm, Koo━” You whimper as you quicken your pace, the vulgar harbored thought of his dick in you thrilling you to no end.

“Fuuck, I’ve never heard you sound like this before. So needy, so desperate,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. And it’s all because of him, the way you’re feeling. He’s never wanted to hurry to please you faster, itching to tear you apart if he’ll get to hear those noises from you again and again. “I━”

He’s gonna cum, and he’s not even in your pussy. What’s gotten into him?

He presses you a little harsher against his dick, sitting up straighter so that his chest is pressed flush against yours. He leans forward, lips chasing after yours, before you pull back just enough sluggishly to press your finger to his mouth.

“Uh uh. No kissing,” You rasp.

The words process in Jungkook’s head, but the weight of them don’t seem to linger in his daze. He’s far too overwhelmed by you and the way you’re making him feel to even begin to try to decipher why you avoid his mouth and so, for now, he doesn’t care. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nose nuzzling against your throat. You clutch at his hair, tugging at the roots tight enough for him to moan.

“Nnngh, Jungkook━” You whine. “I’m gonna━ Oh, fuck, Koo━”

And then you’re unravelling, right in his very arms. He holds you close as you tremble and shake, rutting your hips sloppily against his to ride out your high, and Jungkook thinks he can definitely get used to this. The familiar burn forms in his stomach and, without even thinking of it, he comes in the confinements of his pants.

But in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t notice quite a lot of things. Neither do you.

So, maybe you could both find a hundred and one reasons why having sex with your best friend would surely cross some lines, but the thing with you and Jungkook (and what would eventually blossom into a hubristic relationship of sorts) is that it wasn’t just sex. You would always be comfortable around him, as he would be with you. And nothing could ever possibly get weird between the two of you ━ not when you had both made a promise to each other that it wouldn’t get in the way of your friendship.

Because ━ while, yeah, he’s hot and suffers from fuckboy tendencies from time-to-time and, aside from random late night hookups ━ he was still the same boy that would drag you out at three in the morning to drive to the next city over for a bowl of ramen, who would marathon shows as long as One Piece or Game of Thrones with you, watching as much as you can in one all-nighter; who would come to your dorm, no matter the time of day, the moment you said you were sick or suffering from cramps, piled high with your favourite snacks; who shared a repertoire of silly inside jokes with you that never made any sense to anyone but the both of you; who insisted you both wear friendship bracelets even in college. He would always be an angel to you, treat you well, because you meant that much to him.

A small thought in the back of Jungkook’s head wonders, above all else, if you were anyone different, would he have even bothered suggesting such a ludicrous idea, drunk or not?

Because he’s positive no one else could make him cum in his pants like a horny prepubescent teen ━ no one except for you.

“If we’re really gonna do this, we need to set some ground rules.”

Admittedly, neither you nor Jungkook knew what would happen after Jungkook’s proposition to you. Maybe you were expecting the two of you to pretend as if nothing had ever happened, or laugh it off as something so inconsequential that neither of you should bother worrying about it. Instead, the very next day, you find that you’re back in Jungkook’s dorm. Only this time, you’re in his bed, and he spent the past half hour sufficiently eating you out.

Now, you’ve had an epiphany in the form of Jungkook’s dick, and that is that it’s big.

You’ve seen it before on occasion ━ like when he streaked nude across campus as a dare or when he needed to use your shower because his apartment was under maintenance and he walked out on you in the living room ━ but this is clearly a very different circumstance. All red, swollen, angry tip wet and glistening with precum. You had to brace yourself as he pushed himself into you, cautiously and slowly, enjoying the way you stretch to fit around him. If you had a drunken excuse the night before for loving the thought of getting off with Jungkook, then you surely don’t have one now. It’s a shameless guilty pleasure, you think, that he’s at least indulging in.

“Rules,” Jungkook scoffs now. “You’re such a nerd. Fuck, you feel so fucking good━ You doing okay?”

More than. Your head lolls back against his pillow, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Mhm.”

“Want a minute?”

“Maybe.”

Jungkook pauses without any hesitation, gnawing on his lower lip as your walls clench around him so tightly he feels he might fall apart then and there. His hands are on your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles against your burning skin. A few deep breaths later and you’re probing Jungkook to move again. His hips rut into yours at a leisure pace, and he marvels for a moment at the way his dick disappears into your pussy, slick and wet with your own arousal. The thought of being in you ━ of finally feeling your walls wrapped around him, all wet and snug ━ is enough to make him bust then and there, but he refrains miraculously.

“Holy fuck,” You groan. “Why are you so big━”

Your voice cuts off into a delightful whimper, walls aching around him. Jungkook snorts, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Nothing sexier than hearing you stroke my ego.”

“Don’t let it get to your already big head,” You retort sluggishly.

“Big head!” he grumbles against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. “Insult me some more. You know how it gets me going.”

“Oh my god, shut up. Where were we?”

“Rules.”

“Right,” You breathe in a sharp inhale of air as he grinds against your hips. “And rule number one is no kissing. That’s way too intimate.”

Jungkook quirks a brow. “How is kissing more intimate than having my dick in you?”

“It just is.” You refuse to tell him the truth. You poke your fingers at his sides, causing him to jerk against you. “Don’t question it.”

“Fine. Then no sentimental shit in general, like cuddling or pet names,” Jungkook retorts. “And no public displays of affection.”

“Okay,” You nod. “Fuck, Jungkook━”

“God, I love hearing you moan my name,” Jungkook grunts. He watches with fascination the way your face reacts at his every movement. “Too much?”

“No. Kinda hot,” You admit. An abrupt thought pops into your head that has you murmuring hazily, “Oh, and you can’t have sex with me to your sex playlist.”

Jungkook looks appalled. The sex playlist in question is one you’ve heard briefly before, if only because you’ve walked in on Jungkook and his flavour of the month a handful of times one too many times.

“So you’re telling me you don’t want to have the best orgasm of your life to The Weeknd or the Neighbourhood? WAP?” Jungkook asks, wriggling his brows suggestively. “Alanis Morissette?” You have less than half a second to register the 90s pop singer as out of place before Jungkook breaks out into song with a brief rendition of Head over Feet. “You’re my best friend, best friend with benefits━!”

Part of you knows he’s joking, but there’s still a small sliver of you that makes you gawk at him dubiously before dissolving into a fit of unabashed laughter. It rumbles against his chest, vibrates his dick in you. “You’re not serious, are you? That’s not actually in your sex playlist, is it?”

He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Guess you’ll never know now.”

Another roll of your eyes makes him snicker. He’s gotten used to your snide remarks, but he’ll gladly keep suffering under them if he gets to wipe that taunting smirk off your face each time with the way his dick makes you feel. You cling a little tighter to his shoulders and muse aloud, “So that’s it then?”

“Yeah━” Jungkook knows you’re referring to the rules and your plan, although it’s getting harder to focus on talking as he continues to grind against you. “And nothing has to change between us, even if we stop. We’re still just two best friends.”

“Yup.”

“Who have sex from time to time.”

“Yeah.”

He can’t help himself. He tries again. “Who might kiss.”

“Nope.” You’re smiling even despite the way you shoot him an aggravated stare first.

“We might?”

“No, we definitely won’t.”

Worth a shot, he thinks to himself. At least you really do always keep him in check.

After all, what are best friends for?

So, maybe a part of you thought the shift in your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t last very long. A week at most, and maybe Hoseok would find you another pointless let down of a blind date to go on and Jungkook would get horny for some other girl ━ but it’s certainly been more than a week now, and you’ve had sex with him more than two times.

A third, and a fourth, if you’re being blatantly honest, and maybe a few more times after that but you don’t really remember what count you’re both on now which should probably be concerning. Days elapse into days, which turn to weeks, then months. Morning, afternoon, and night.

It’s not as if you hadn’t already spent almost every waking moment with Jungkook but now you had a reason to be at his apartment at any and all hours of the day and not solely for movie watching marathons. You’re positive he’s still having his occasional random flings, though you’re fortunate his commitment issues at least force him to go to their homes rather than his for the most part, so you never really have to witness half-naked girls stumbling out of his apartment just as you’re wandering in. He says it has something to do with how his bedroom is his sacred space, though you think it’s more like he wouldn’t want his hook ups discovering his Overwatch figurines or something (because, before Jungkook’s proposition, you’ve walked in on him once and a girl when they were entangled on the couch in his living room).

But you’ve noticed lately you’re getting too comfortable with your arrangement with Jungkook; too comfortable knowing he’ll be there at the end of a long day to greet you, to please you until you’re crying out his name. Sometimes he tells you about the girls he’s texting, or shows you a picture from a hot girl’s Instagram whose D.M.s he’s just slid into. And sometimes you’re left wondering how often he comes straight to you after hooking up with a random girl.

It shouldn’t matter to you, and you swear that it doesn’t.

Maybe you’re just overthinking things. Hoseok certainly seems to think so, but his judgement wasn’t much to go by.

Because, lately, Hoseok has been encouraging you more and more to give Yukhei (the blind date Hoseok had initially set you up with when you found yourself at Jungkook’s) another chance for two reasons: 1) “Yukhei’s a nice boy,” he had cheerfully reminded you, “he’ll treat you well,” and 2) “Stop fucking your best friend. It’s morally wrong.”

There were many things wrong with his statement, from the fact that you didn’t exactly consider standing up a date as “nice” and that you were also still begrudgingly lamenting the way Hoseok had discovered your recent fling with Jungkook (although, you weren’t being very inconspicuous, having shower sex with Jungkook early one morning when you were certain Hoseok would be spending the day at his fiance’s home instead of yours).

But then you meet Yukhei and you realize that, oh crap, he’s cute. And he’s nice.

As it turns out, after bumping into him one day when you’re with Hoseok lounging on the quad of your campus and he comes bounding over to return a textbook Hoseok had lent him for a specific class, Yukhei is so easily charming. He also gives a pretty valid excuse for flaking on your date, proving that he had to present his dissertation, making you clearly aware that he’s cute, nice, and smart. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t see the appeal, yet his curiosity and intrigue seems to get the best of him.

“So that was your blind date?” Jungkook asks after grabbing your attention on the quad and stealing you away from Hoseok and Yukhei. “Yukhei?”

“You know him?”

“Seen him around,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve never really talked to him. But him? You’re not telling me you’re actually interested in him, are you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” You’re truly just as clueless about your feelings towards Yukhei as Jungkook seems to be. “What’s so wrong about him?”

“He’s━” Jungkook stops. He shakes his head. “Heard he’s got a small dick anyway.”

You shoot the boy a wary look, only to find him grinning deviously at himself. “Maybe he just wants to be friends.”

At this, Jungkook lets out a scoffing sound that borders on disbelieving laughter. “No, I definitely think he wants to have sex with you in his Toyota Camry, Y/N, but what do I know?”

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“No, why would I be jealous?”

You can’t quite tell if he’s angry or not but, then again, why would he be? As far as either of you are concerned, there’s nothing to be jealous of.

So then why does it feel like he’s simply just telling himself that?

“Are you seriously on your phone right now?”

Jungkook asks this from somewhere behind you a handful of days later, a little peeved but most likely because your jarring 8:00 a.m. alarm had roused the both of you violently awake. In his defense, Jungkook is not a morning person.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re currently sprawled out on your hands and knees on his bed, phone still in your grasp after having plucked it off the nightstand in haste. Your clothes are scattered across the floor of his room, remnant clues of the night before when he had beckoned you over after hours, and your body is covered in nothing but hickeys and an unbuttoned blue flannel belonging to Jungkook that you had chucked on last night that does nothing in covering up the swell of your breasts which Jungkook is now currently eyeing. “Am I not giving you enough attention? Were you expecting cuddles or something? Thought that wasn’t in the rules.”

“No,” Jungkook huffs. He runs a hand through his long messy hair in an attempt to fix it; he ultimately gives up taming his locks, instead using the hair tie around his wrist to tie his hair back into a cute yet sexy little ponytail. As he does so, you notice the red friendship bracelet around his wrist and smile smally. “But my dick could use some cuddles. Preferably with your mouth, but it will also gladly accept your hand.”

Jungkook may not be a morning person but, as you’ve come to realize, his dick certainly is.

It’s painfully obvious too, his hardened length straining against the gray sweatpants he had thrown on at some point. And, god, did he have to wear those? It left little to the imagination, the outline of his length teasing you just enough.

“I should get going,” You say. “I have a test coming up. There’s supposed to be a review session today in class, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Well, you don’t seem like you’re in a rush since you’re still on your phone,” Jungkook points out. “Who are you texting anyway? Yukhei?”

“Anger is an emotion,” You rebuke casually. “So is jealousy.”

Jungkook feigns a look of mock hurt. “I’m not angry or jealous! I’m needy.”

Still, Jungkook reaches out to swiftly pluck your phone from your hands.

“Jungkook━!”

He’s pressed up against your back in an instant, his dick hard against your ass, and he doesn’t move very far even when you twist in your spot in an attempt to grab your phone back. You don’t, and instead you end up on your back with him on his side, propped up on his elbow. You miss when he casts a swift gaze down at your phone, only to see that Yukhei’s chat messages are indeed open, and something seems to gnaw terribly at his gut before he tosses your phone to the side. He’s looking at you now with those big beautiful eyes of his, and you hate it.

“Please?” he beckons. He ruts his hips impatiently but slowly against your leg. He drops his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, lips dangerously close to brushing against your flesh but he refrains somehow. “M’so hard right now, could probably bust the moment you touch me.”

The thought is tempting, having a helpless Jungkook cumming in your hands. The sight alone has quickly become your favourite thing, helping the frustrated boy get off. Besides, you’re certain you could ask Hoseok for the review notes.

Fuck it, you cave.

You fidget until you’ve pressed him back against the bed and have clambered on top of him, wiggling your way down to fit between his legs. Jungkook is watching you now with a half-asleep expression, though his teeth sink into his lower lip as you pull at his sweatpants until they’re down at his thighs, letting his swollen dick spring free.

“You know━” You hum. You reach out to grab at the base of his cock. “Yukhei wants to hang out, and Hoseok keeps telling me to give it a shot.”

That much is true. Part of you wants to say yes, if only because Yukhei seems promising enough, but the thought alone is enough for you to feel as if you’ve done something horribly wrong to Jungkook.

“Oh.” The word eclipses Jungkook’s mouth in a shallow breath of air. Then, your mouth wraps around the puffy head of his dick, shining with leaking precum that you swallow back, and Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. Head thrown back, face scrunching together, muscles in his toned abdomen flexing as he seizes and grunts aloud. “Oh, fuck━ Well… Are you gonna?”

Jungkook asks the last question with much difficulty, and a part of him thinks it doesn’t all have to do with how you’re making him feel.

“Dunno.” You snort around his dick, and he marvels at how adorable such a lewd action can seem.

You decide to focus on sucking him off because it truly is a sexy sight to see, letting the topic of Yukhei drop. Jungkook certainly doesn’t mind. As you swirl your tongue around his tip and reach up with your free hand to fondle at his balls, his long hair falls into his lashes but he still tries to find you past his wild locks, hooded eyes gazing down at you.

“Ah, shit━” Jungkook hisses delightfully, hips jerking forward instinctively into your mouth. The faintest hints of a drowsy smirk tug at his lips. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”

Yeah, you think to yourself then, you’re definitely going to ride him later. Screw going to class.

From: Jungkook Sent: 1:05 a.m.

bro i noticed u werent wearing our friendship bracelet while u were giving me head earlier. is everything ok??

You wake in the morning to a single text from Jungkook ━ and one you had not been expecting.

That’s not to say that getting the occasional text message from Jungkook at any and all hours of the day was abnormal, but the extent of his messages sent anywhere past midnight usually always range from something more coherent in the form of “what would u do if i was there rn?” to something exuding typical lazy Jungkook manner with a simple “dtf?” or “send noods lol” to something even more provocatively cryptic such as the eggplant and splashing water (or, as far as Jungkook is concerned, something else entirely) emojis and nothing else, left open for your own interpretation that typically, usually, without a doubt, results in you in his bed and his dick in you. But this seems to be something else entirely.

Unfortunately, Jungkook’s text isn’t the only concern of yours.

Hoseok has spent the better part of the morning giving you a lecture on why having sex with your best friend is bad. He seems so passionate about the topic that you’re certain he would have pulled out a powerpoint at any moment, each slide ending in a picture of Yukhei and why you should maybe try fucking him instead, if you entertained the idea a little longer. Hoseok claims it’s just a harmless date. Yukhei might be a nice boy, but you don’t know how you feel about him. You don’t want to lead him on, and a scary thought points out the fact that maybe, while Yukhei is a nice boy, he isn’t Jungkook.

“I don’t get why you don’t just give Yukhei a chance━” Hoseok is saying now, sat on the couch in your shared apartment with him. “It’s not like you have to marry him. I don’t think one date will hurt━ Aaand, you’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?”

The sheepish look on your face is enough of an answer for him. You’ve been anxiously eyeing your phone and the text Jungkook had sent you last that you’ve yet to respond to, even despite being awake for more than a few hours now.

“Yes, I am listening,” You say dismissively. “Something about how one date won’t hurt, but that’s what you said when Yoongi asked you out, and you’re literally engaged now.”

The glistening metallic ring on Hoseok’s finger is evidence enough. The boy looks down at it as if seeing it for the first time, purses his lips, and then nods in agreement. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right. But you’re holding out for Jungkook and for what? He’s hot, yeah, and he’s your best friend, sure, but at the end of the day he’s still just a horny male who wants to stick his dick in anything that moves.”

“Hoseok.” Your grumbling sigh is interrupted by the motion of your phone vibrating against your thigh once more. You peek at the screen fleetingly to see a new text.

From: Jungkook Sent: 2:35 p.m.

send n00ds?

miss ur tits :(

Typical Jungkook.

The text from the night before is all but seemingly forgotten from his mind, and you can’t quite tell if you’re devastated or relieved. You don’t have very long to discern which emotion you’re feeling when Hoseok snatches your phone to look at what’s gotten your attention before exclaiming suddenly, “Aha! See! What did I say?”

“It’s not like that,” You wave Hoseok off. “Jungkook treats me well. He respects me, and I’m comfortable with him.”

“And how long until whatever this is━” He gestures vaguely to your phone as if to point out your relationship with Jungkook, “has to end? Do you really think a pinky promise is going to make sure your friendship with him isn’t totally ruined? I mean, how can you continue being casual friends with someone, see them dating someone else, when they’ve had their dick in you?”

You know it makes sense. Realistically, you either stop sleeping with each other or it potentially develops into something more. But in both circumstances, what were the chances that either of you didn’t get your heart broken? Maybe a part of you was apprehensive of Jungkook finding the “right” person for him one day that has him ending things with you, and while you swear you’d be happy for him, relationships sometimes have a way of distracting people from those already around them. Were you prepared to have someone take him away from you, platonically and whatever it is else that you have with him? Did you really think you could just keep being friends with him, as if nothing ever occurred between you two?

You don’t think Jungkook is bothered worrying about the state of your friendship with him, much less overthinking it like you seem to be. It shouldn’t be a big deal ━ yet why was there still that terrible nagging voice in the back of your mind? Whether or not Hoseok is right, you don’t want to find out. You don’t have feelings for Jungkook anyway.

But your ability to bend at his every will is certainly interesting.

You grab your phone before Hoseok can do any serious damage like unlocking it and responding to Jungkook, clutching it to your chest as you start to cross the living room. The other boy looks at you in bewilderment. “Where are you going now?”

“Where does it look?” You call over your shoulder just before you disappear into the bathroom, and Hoseok deduces all at once that you’re truly a lost cause. “I need to send him a picture of my boobs.”

“He’s totally into you, Y/N.”

Admittedly, there were many mundane but essentially weird things you’ve talked to Jungkook about while having sex. You’ve had many heated debates about everything under the sun from whether or not pineapple on pizza should be illegal to top five betrayals in either movies or animes, to passionate grand philosophical discussions about what exists outside of the universe.

It’s not as if you had been planning on talking about Yukhei to Jungkook when he had invited you over to his apartment late at night after sending your risqué boob picture to him but, like many things in your friendship with Jungkook, it sort of just happened. He had asked you how your day was and you had decided to broach the topic experimentally, though you think deep down you’re doing it on purpose to see if he’d react in any way. What started with you mentioning Hoseok’s adamance and you sort of genuinely asking Jungkook for advice on Yukhei somehow evolved into Jungkook interrogating you on whether or not you’ve hung out with him yet.

“Jungkook. You’re getting off topic,” You admonish him now, as if your own choice of topic is any better when his dick is currently in you.

Jungkook is wedged between your thighs smushed up against your chest, large palms holding you on your ribcage in place beneath him. He’s a comfortable heavy draped over top of you, cock stretching you wide. You can feel his heart hammering against yours and he’s slick with sweat, golden hair clinging to his forehead and in his pretty eyes. You resist the urge to reach out and brush the messy locks away but, again, how would that be any less intimate of an action than what you’re already doing? Another line uncrossed, you suppose.

“How am I off topic?” Jungkook retorts. “You literally just said you can’t tell if he’s into you but he dropped by when you were done class and bought you lunch. You don’t just do that for a girl you don’t care that much about.”

“You buy me lunch, like, every day,” You point out.

“Because you’re my best friend. Of course I care about you,” Jungkook says.

“Ah, Jungkook━” You curse suddenly, grabbing his attention when you shift your weight beneath him. “You’re crushing me. Why’d you stop moving?”

He doesn’t have an answer, if only because he hadn’t even realized he’d stop moving in the first place. Without hesitation, he continues leisurely rutting his hips against yours, grabbing at one of your legs to hook it around his waist. This new angle lets you feel even more of him as he sinks further into you, if that was even still possible, reaching so far into you that you swear it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. Your head lolls back against the pillows, pure euphoria contorting your face so much so to the point that it distracts you entirely from the distant look glazing over Jungkook’s eyes.

“Yukhei definitely wants to bang,” he huffs under his breath.

At once, an exasperated groan fills his ears.

“I can’t believe we’re seriously having this conversation right now,” You roll your eyes, fingers prodding at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk about Yukhei potentially wanting to have sex with me.”

Jungkook’s glad you said it, at least. Though now he’s watching you with hooded eyes as he thrusts into you a little harder, maybe a little intentionally. His indulgent gaze droops to your breasts, admiring the way they bounce beneath him each time his hips make contact with yours. He thinks back earlier in the day to the picture you had sent him which, really, had sparked the mood for the rest of the night.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whines abruptly. His eyes screw shut and brows furrow together as your walls clench around him. He drops his head to bury his face in your chest, lips momentarily wrapping around one of your nipples as he sucks harshly at the soft flesh. When he speaks next, forehead still resting against your collarbones, his voice is a breathless croak, “Well, do you like him?”

“No,” You moan. “Maybe━ Fuck, Koo━ I don’t know.”

“He’s gonna be at that party Tae’s throwing, isn’t he?” Jungkook tries to focus, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to do so when he’s inching closer and closer to his high. “Shit, ah, Y/N━ Why don’t you try talking to him or something? See how the night goes?”

“He’s nice but I don’t think he’s the one for me,” You admit sheepishly. “I think I’m just gonna end things while I still can, with as little harm as possible.”

“Well, glad that’s settled,” Jungkook mumbles. “Can we please stop talking about Yukhei now?”

You seem to miss the way he clings to you a little tighter, hands flying down to grip at your hips, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin. He snaps his hips into yours a little faster this time, your pussy throbbing around him.

“Nngh, Jungkook━”

Your hands fumble to grip at his hair, tugging tightly at the roots and earning a delightful hiss from the boy. Your own mouth drops open in a silent moan and it’s a wonder he doesn’t combust at just how sexy the sight is. He hates how his eyes stay trained on the shape of your lips, the soft plumpness of them. He’s felt them wrapped around his dick plenty of times before but he concedes that it’s probably hardly anywhere near to how it would feel to kiss you. Like actually kiss you, tongue and all.

God, what’d he give just to smother your lips with his.

And, god, he hopes you never find out. He’s positive that thought is far more scandalous alone than anything you’ve ever done together.

You’re writhing beneath him now, hips jutting forward desperately to meet his. “I’m gonna cum, Jungkook━”

“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook growls. “Wanna feel you cream around my cock so bad. Come on, baby━”

In the heat of the moment, you seem to miss the pet name that slurs off his tongue and the sentiment in it. A few more jolting slams of his hips and you’re tumbling over the edge. He has to sputter for air when he feels your pussy wrapping so tightly around him, stuttering in his pace above you if only to watch as you unravel beneath him. Hooded dark eyes glazed over in that perfect fucked out expression he loves so much, teeth biting at your lower lip so hard he wonders if it’ll bruise in the morning.

A sudden thought pops into his head when you’ve settled enough, amongst the blinding pure white of bliss that clouds his thoughts. “Did you get my text by the way? The one I sent last night?”

You gasp for air. The bracelet on your wrist itches at the mention of it, and you’re fortunate you decided to wear it that afternoon before coming to Jungkook’s. “Y-Yeah━”

“Well…?”

“Everything’s fine,” You say this as dismissively as you can. Your core is still vibrating after the harsh impact of your orgasm paired with Jungkook’s swollen length still in you. “I just… I was taking a shower and didn’t want to get it wet. I forgot to put it back on in the morning.”

That’s a lie. You had mostly taken it off as part of an experiment, though it hasn’t answered much. At least Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize that.

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes. A beat of silence passes, before he deadpans cockily, “Wait, you were taking a shower and I wasn’t invited?”

“Oh my god, shut up━” Maybe if he hadn’t just currently driven you to nirvana and back, you’d notice the way the sloppy grin on his face is a simple taunt. But you’re much too distracted to care. Instead, you use your leg that’s still hooked around his waist to gently push and roll him onto his back so that you can straddle his hips. His eyes sparkle mischievously as he watches you waste no time in hurrying to grind against him at an agonizingly steady pace that makes his head spin. “You’re ruining the moment. I’m trying to make you cum.”

A devious cackle rumbles from his chest, albeit a little contented at the same time. Yeah, he definitely likes the sound of that. “Well then, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”

It’s only then that his question comes back into your mind. If he felt the need to ask you again about the bracelet, maybe that meant something after all. At the very least, it means he hadn’t forgotten about it altogether. On the other hand, you wonder how often he had spent thinking, or over-thinking, the issue in the past twenty-four hours, if at all.

Was it wrong to feel some semblance of joy over that potential fact? Probably.

That doesn’t seem to bother you much this time. Not when he’s gazing up at you as if you’re some divine sexy goddess, all his to enjoy. You can’t help yourself; you reach down to brush the sweaty hair from his eyes, perhaps all too gentle of an action for best friends.

And he smiles, maybe a little too softly and maybe a little too ardently if you look close enough.

He smiles.

The thing about your supposed “rules” with your relationship with Jungkook is that there might be a few loose ends that neither you nor Jungkook pay much attention to sometimes.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Mostly, the “no public displays of affection” clause is easily disregardable. It’s typically when you’re too drunk to remember it and a bit needy, craving one another’s touch, but those around you never truly seem to care or even notice because, if you’re lucky, they’re equally as smashed. Sometimes the “no cuddles” clause blurs into a gray area where it’s simply just you and Jungkook post-sex, sprawled out in his bed, not necessarily wrapped up in one another’s arms and cooing sweet nothings to one another but giggling at nothing in particular except one another as you bask in each other’s company and nothing more. You suppose some rules are meant to be broken.

For the most part, Jungkook never seems to question the no kissing rule you were so adamant in insisting. Not until one night in which you’re left wondering where things go so drastically wrong. It starts off as normally as any other day with you and Jungkook can, spent in his apartment binge watching movies. You hadn’t expected that night to switch as suddenly as it does when Jungkook shoots you a text earlier in the day asking if you want to come to his for a night of casual drinking as simply “best friends.” But, as always, one thing seems to lead to another, and you can’t get enough of Jungkook. Maybe it’s in the way he holds you a little tighter, the way he tugs you onto his lap on the sofa in his living room, the way he grips your thighs with a certain type of insatiable desire.

“You know…” he hums. “You drive me insane. In, like, the best way possible.”

Part of you realizes his actions even without him seeming to, and the drunken smile on your face remaining frozen in place, a little dumbfounded. “Jungkook…”

“When I’m with you…” He lifts his stare to look at you, but you have nothing to say. Neither does he. Instead, you’re left grinning at one another and suddenly your face is warm. He leans towards you, his nose nuzzling against the side of your throat. Your hands stay threaded in his hair now, and he swears he feels you secure your grip as if to pull him closer.

You can feel his lips brush faintly against your skin, grazing along your neck to the underside of your jaw. Up, up, up, until━

It’s just as his mouth meets with the corner of yours that you register what he’s doing, even in your clouded state. You turn your head just in time, and he comes to an immediate halt, his lips barely making contact with your cheek instead before he pulls away. He doesn’t move very far but you also don’t push him away just yet. Instead, you shift your head to look at him, still inches apart from him.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He can’t quite tell if you’re appalled or not, an empty expression staring back at him.

“I━ You━” He fumbles over his words, squeezes his eyes shut. He blames it on the alcohol even though his head is swimming with thoughts that seem to only concern you. But then a fierceness seems to stir within him, one that makes his jaw clench as he meets your stunned stare. The question rolls off his tongue without meaning to. “Is this about Yukhei?”

“What?”

“Is that why you weren’t wearing our bracelet the other day?”

The question is so ridiculous, you have to laugh. “What are you going on about?”

But Jungkook doesn’t see what’s so funny and so he tries again, his persistence taking hold. “Is that why you won’t ever let me kiss you?”

You blink. Then, you’re shaking your head at him. Exasperation hangs heavy in your words, shaping in the form of a tired scoff. “You’re not serious.”

You’ve slithered off of his lap before he can even think to stop you ━ but if he had, would you have even stayed? You’re mad, but he doesn’t know why. “No, I wanna know. Because if what we have is already so meaningless, what makes a kiss any different?”

“Jungkook…”

“So I wanna know,” he says, brows unconsciously knitting together. His gaze is searching yours desperately, as if begging for an answer he’ll want to hear. But he knows he’s being an idiot, a small sober part in him makes him realize that. “Humour me. Have you had sex with him yet?”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe that’s what you’re on about.” Suddenly, you’re frowning. Your hardened stare meets the boy’s and the irritation that scrunches at your face makes him wince, but it’s too late for him to take back the damage that he’s done. “Yeah, Jungkook, we fucked in his stupid Toyota that you hate so much and he choked me and I liked it. He did all sorts of dirty things to me. Is that what you want to hear?” The sardonic tone hisses at his ears, but he bites back his words, the sober part in him doing some decent good by shushing him. “No, Jungkook, we didn’t fuck. We haven’t even gone on a date, and I don’t even know if I want to, and you think I’m throwing myself at him.”

“But you wanna.”

“You’re being an idiot,” You admonish. “I’m going home. Talk to me when you’re sober.”

He has just enough time to watch you turn on your heel, march towards his door, when he scrambles to his feet. The weight of his words and actions finally seem to dawn on him, hitting him harshly in the face and in the heart.

“Fuck, wait! Wait━” he gasps.

He chases after you, hand reaching out to press his palm against the door before you can shimmy it open. He’s fortunate when you turn to look at him, though your arms are folded impatiently over your chest.

“You’re right. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he promises earnestly. Then, he lets out a frustrated groan. “I just… What if we… Shit, what if we stop for right now? Y’know… Hooking up. Whatever this is.”

He gestures vaguely between the two of you with his hands, a wearied look plastering his face.

You hate to admit how his words seem to affect you. They bite at the air, leave you breathless as you gawk at him, but the harsh realization of it all is that you were never his to have and he was never yours. Hoseok had been right when he said these things were bound to come to an end ━ so why did it seem to hurt you so much?

A beat of prolonged silence passes between the two of you. Jungkook runs a hand through his chaotic blonde hair, digging the heel of his palm into his temple as if to rid himself of a headache he’s no doubt sporting. Maybe you’re waiting for a better explanation, but he gives none, and you don’t feel as if you have the right to ask why. He’s not your boyfriend, for god’s sake. It’s not like he’s breaking your heart.

Instead, you take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”

“Okay.” It’s all that he says in return.

So then why does it feel like he is?

When Jungkook had promised that if your fling with him ended you would go back to being untainted best friends, he was apparently lying.

A part of you can’t believe the sheer nerve of him to ghost you in his traditional fuckboy ways, and yet he does. You suppose not entirely, at the very least. Part of it ends up with you being even more vexed by his sudden shift in emotion, and the tangible tension that rises between the two of you should have been dealt with properly, yet neither of you do anything about it, leaving your friendship stagnant and stale for a week. After all, how are you really supposed to go back to “just friends” when you’ve seen his dick one too many times?

You refrain from telling Hoseok, if only so you don’t have to hear him tell you he told you so ━ but you also decide to give Yukhei that one chance, and so you think Hoseok wouldn’t mind so much anyway.

Admittedly, when Yukhei asks to hang with you at Taehyung’s eventual party, you aren’t entirely too keen, but you accept it if only because you heard Jungkook will be there too. For the majority of the night, you don’t see the boy, and you spend the hours cozying up with Yukhei in a conversation that dulls you. As it would appear, it seems to bore Yukhei too, but you only notice that when he starts touching you on your waist and the small of your back. There’s a moment where he leans his head close enough to yours that you realize he’s trying to kiss you, resulting in an awkward encounter in which you push him away, palms on his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. The answer is obvious enough to you, but you don’t think you should tell him for his own dignity. That, instead, all you can imagine is Jungkook in his place. “Should we get out of here?”

“Y/N. Can I talk to you?”

You’re both fortunate yet horrified when you hear Jungkook’s voice. He’s standing just behind you, his own stare devoid of any emotion, though his brows furrow and his jaw clenches in a signature Jungkook manner that you know means he’s pissed. He hardly acknowledges Yukhei, nodding in his general direction. You don’t remember if you leave Yukhei there or if he leaves, or if Jungkook even gives a poor attempt of an excuse to the boy, but you’ve not so much as uttered a single word or let out an exhalation of air, when Jungkook ultimately pulls you off to the side where it’s just you and him once more.

“I’m not sucking your dick in Tae’s grimy bathroom, if that’s what you want,” You scowl once Yukhei is out of earshot. “You’ve lost the privilege that is my mouth.”

“That’s not━” Jungkook shakes his head, exasperated. “That’s not what I want. I just━ I’ll take you home. Please?”

You know the offer is much more than him simply walking you the route to your dorm, which you already know like the back of your hand. Yet, you don’t argue. Truthfully, it’s a relief when Jungkook lugs you out of the party. The entire venture back to your apartment is treacherous, in the way that you’re left sobering up enough to the point that your dizzying thoughts become more coherent. Hoseok is gone for the weekend at least, spending the days with his fiance, so you don’t have to worry about humiliating yourself in front of your roommate when it comes to Jungkook.

You’ve barely made it through your front door when you’re grumbling aloud, “What do you want, Jungkook?”

“I wanna talk,” he says firmly. “About us. About Yukhei.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.” But that’s a lie. Talking to Jungkook, even despite masquerading your annoyance for him, is a blessing in disguise. You’ve missed the idiot, and hearing his voice. “Besides, you told me to give him a chance.”

“And you said you didn’t want to.”

“Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Yeah, you sure seemed like you loved it when he was trying to shove his tongue down your throat,” Jungkook retorts bitterly. “C’mon, Y/N. We both know that’s a lie.”

“You know, you’ve been a real dick lately.”

A sliver of a smirk tugs at Jungkook’s face. “I thought you love dick.”

Clearly, his poor attempt at a joke doesn’t land well with you. “Why do you even care so much if Yukhei and I get together? Stop acting so high and mighty and moral, Jungkook. It’s not like you’re some virgin saint. How many times have I heard you talk about all those girls you’ve fucked? And what was I? Just another notch in your belt this whole time?”

“What?” Jungkook gasps now, as if disbelieving you would ever think such a thing. “No! You’re not just another notch. I would never even think about you that way. And I haven’t had sex with anyone else but you this whole time and I easily could have.”

“Wow! Such a martyr,” You remark dryly. When you speak next, you meet his stare with your own crestfallen gaze. “I just want my best friend back.” Your words hurt him more than you think, but he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. “You’re the one who tried to kiss me, then suggested we stop whatever it is we’re doing━”

Jungkook flinches. “I know.”

“Then you ignore me for days even though you promised nothing would change━”

“I know,” he says desperately. He closes the distance between the two of you, yearning to reach out and touch you. Instead, he clamps his eyes shut, trying with all his might to focus when the room feels like it’s spinning.

“And then you get mad when Yukhei tries to make a move. It’s like you’re jealous or something!”

“I am.” He can’t take it anymore. The words tumble from his lips in a rush that he hardly bothers to bite back.

“Why?”

“Because━ Because━” He struggles to form his thoughts into words, stumbling over his sentence. Fuck, he’s never like this. Even you can tell. He grits his teeth next. “I lean in to kiss you and you look at me as if I’m out of my mind. I just don’t get it. You don’t want me to kiss you but you let me put my dick in your ass.”

The taut line of your lip quivers as you break. “That was one time and you didn’t even get all the way in!”

“Y/N.” Jungkook hums now. He’s gazing at you a little softly, reaching out to place his hands on your waist. “Look, I know I’ve been an idiot. But lately, when I touch you, I fucking feel so alive and the thought of Yukhei doing anything with you when it isn’t me, who should be with you, makes me want to vomit. And when I wake up in the morning alone, I only want you next to me. And I can’t be the only one feeling that way. If I am, tell me. Right now. Please. I just wanna know why you won’t ever let me kiss you, but you let me do all sorts of things with you. Am I really that repulsive?”

Another moment of silence stifles the room. Jungkook is so close to you now, you can’t help yourself. You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, fingers twisting in the material as you lean your forehead out of frustration against his shoulder and he instinctively lets his arms slither around your waist, holding you to him. Then━

“No.”

“What?”

“I only made the rule because I don’t want you to kiss me unless you mean it,” You murmur into his chest. “Like really, really mean it. Like I’m more than just a notch in your belt. Because I want to kiss you so badly, and I’m already in love with you but then I’ll really be in love with you and I don’t want to get my heart broken.”

The anticipation kills you, awaiting his response. You refuse to lift your head, until you hear him grumble, “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Me?”

The retort is filled with your typical jestering hostility as you finally look at him. But just as you do so, Jungkook’s reaching out to grasp at your face, rough hands all soft and gentle as they cradle your cheeks, guiding you towards him and smoothing his lips over yours until you melt like putty in his hands.

Kissing Jungkook, you deduce at once, is not at all how you imagined it.

It’s everything and more. You’ve felt his mouth on you before but in much different circumstances. Between your legs, on your throat, down past the valley of your breasts ━ and each kiss then had been feral, sloppy, rough. Now, it’s sweet and tender, the feeling of his lips as soft as how he makes your heart feel. And the butterflies━ god, the butterflies.

Impatient hands tug and pull at one another until you’ve both stumbled into your room and onto your bed. He’s clambered over top of you, lips struggling to not part throughout the whole ordeal, until he’s wedged himself between your thighs.

Only then does Jungkook part from you just enough in the next moment, lips brushing against yours, as he whispers ardently, “I mean it.”

Then he’s kissing the corner of your lips down to the underside of your jaw, his mouth grazing along your skin in a feathery touch. His hands help you shed your shirt, and the bra underneath. “I mean it when I kiss you here.”

Then he drops his head to your neck, kissing at the base of your throat, before nipping at it lightly. “And here.”

Your hands come to thread in his hair, tugging at the roots. He burrows his face lastly in your chest, snatching the nipple of one of your breasts between his teeth. “Here…”

You’re so soft and supple beneath his hands, all his to love and explore.

“I want you, all of you,” he mumbles. “Only you.”

“Oh, Koo…”

A pretty moan tumbles from your mouth, and he could nearly cry. He had surely thought you were far past the point of enraged, far past the point of pensive words shaped in a heartfelt apology to bring you back to him. But then hearing you rasp his name ━ the little cute nickname that only you call him ━ makes him so goddamn remorseful.

He smothers your lips with his once more, groaning into your mouth. “I’m such a fucking dick. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” You whine.

“I’m sorry,” he laments. He bites at your lower lip, suckling against it. “Please let me make it up to you.”

“You already have.”

“But I’ve been such a shitty friend,” he groans. It’s hard to focus when he’s pressing his hips against yours, the forming bulge in his pants straining against the inside of your thigh. “I should’ve known when to stop. I shouldn’t have even suggested the whole thing in the first place, because then I wouldn’t have messed us all up.”

“Jungkook,” Your grip tightens in his hair. “Jungkook━ I want you so bad. Just wanna be yours.”

“Yeah?” His breath is warm as it fans against your neck. You rub your core eagerly against him, throbbing pussy so close to making contact with his dick.

“Yeah,” You mewl.

“What do you want from me?”

“You. Wanna feel your dick in me, please,” Your fingers tug at the top of his jeans, prodding at the muscles on his abdomen. “In my mouth. Can make you feel better, Koo, I promise. Just wanna be your good girl.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

He lets you push him until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips. Your limbs entangle with his as you shed the rest of your clothes, your own hands wandering up and down the front of his body after he’s tossed his shirt onto the floor. Then he watches as you shimmy your way down his body. You’re so zealous in pleasing him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick, head angry and red, dribbling pearly beads of precum down the shaft and over the bulging vein that lines it. You run your thumb over the tip and down, spreading the sticky fluid over him. He grunts in response, nearly jolting at your touch, as his head drops back against his shoulders.

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

You pump him slowly, taking you time as your closed fist glides up and down his length. He shudders each time your hand reaches the base, and becomes so carried away with your leisure teasing that his eyes are screwed shut and misses the way you dip down to kiss at the tip of his cock. His eyes immediately flutter open, a flustered expression painting his face. You lap again at the head, saltiness coating your tongue, and you let out a simpering moan that has him quivering. And when you wrap your mouth entirely around his cock, sinking down along his length, he swears he’s about to fall apart. Your eyes flicker upward to meet him and the moment they lock, so sexy and dark, he has to look away for fear of busting right then and there. He reclines back against the bed once more, his hand flying out to grab at your hair.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he rasps.

He can feel the curve of your lips against his cock as you suck him off. You do so well, too. Puffing your cheeks out, taking as much of him as you can until it feels as if he’s hitting the back of your throat. Then, you’ll suck at the tip of his cock, tongue swirling rapidly around, as your fist rubs his shaft. It’s a beautiful mix, one that inches him closer and closer to his high, and each time you switch he has to hold it together to not let go so soon. He wants to enjoy it, needs to bask in it. Your pretty mouth doing such sinful things, making him feel as if he were in heaven.

“Shit━” His hips jut forward to meet with your mouth, accidentally hitting the back of your throat without warning. You gag a little, but don’t pull away, and when he apologizes to you hastily, you only moan in response. A thought pops into his head that has him beckon aloud, “Will you be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth? Huh, baby?”

You hum in approval, eyes shimmering with glee.

So, he plants both hands in your hair, grabs at the sides of your head, and as you hollow out your cheeks, he bucks into your mouth. He does it again and again, listening to your crescendoing mewls of delight, forming a sticky mess of drool and cum that spills onto your chin.

“God, you’re so good,” Jungkook grunts. He’s a complete wreck, eyes screwing shut, blonde tresses spilling into his lashes. The muscles in his abdomen twitch with each sharp inhale of air he takes, so mesmerized by the shape of your pretty mouth around his dick, like you were made for him. “Such a good girl, huh?”

He fucks himself into your mouth roughly, frantically. Tears start to prick at your eyes from holding your breath, yet you keep yourself together just a little longer for him, lashes fluttering shut tightly.

“All mine too,” Jungkook hisses. “Wouldn’t let Yukhei do this to you, would you? Fuck, I’m━”

With your head left immobile stuck in his grasp, you hum in disapproval instead. You know he’s close when you start to hear him panting breathily. When he cums, it’s with a fractured whine and in short hot bursts onto your tongue and down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and, when he parts from you with a resonating lewd pop, you wipe away with your knuckles at the rest of his cum leaking out of the corner of your mouth and onto your chin. Dark hooded eyes meet with yours, a mischievous glint captivating them. You crawl over to him, straddling his hips once more, chasing his mouth with yours. Your own lips are so wet, coated in saliva and cum, bruised plump, but yet you’re smiling so innocently past the way he can taste himself on his tongue.

A dazed thought pops into your head that has you murmuring wistfully against him, “Say it again. I like hearing you call me baby.”

“Hmm? What about when I call you my good girl?” Jungkook nips at your lips. He grasps at your waist, flipping you over until you’re on your back beneath him. “You treat me so well, baby; you’re my only girl, you know that.”

A contented sigh sounds from you as you rut your hips in thinning desperation to meet his, so close to rubbing against his dick nestled against his thigh. He licks at his fingers hastily, reaching between the two of you to press against your clit, rubbing leisurely at the soft bundle of nerves. He’s learned how to navigate your body after months of supposed emotionless fucking, but now? Now, he felt as if his heart may just burst through his chest. Every reaction you make to his every touch ━ the needy plea to have him make you his, call you baby ━ makes him want to see more, and more.

“Am I?” You ask hoarsely. He grasps at his dick, guiding his tip to your core, so slick and wet, glistening with your own arousal. As he pushes himself in with a hiss, he watches as you contort beneath him. “Nnngh, Jungkook━”

“Fuuck,” he groans. He sinks into you, spreading your thighs further and further apart, until his hips make contact with yours. His mouth attacks yours with a feverish passion, the rumble of his moans and your whimpers muffling against one another. Then, he remembers to answer your awaiting question, barely audible between the way his tongue lavs at yours. “You are. I’m so fucking in love with you. But I don’t deserve you.”

Your hands tug impatiently at his hair. “Stop saying that.”

“But it’s true,” he hums. He’s quick to start rutting at your hips in a steady yet agonizing pace, dick burrowing into your pussy as your walls throb and shake. He can’t help but watch, mesmerized as always by the way his length slips past your folds and disappears into you. Again, and again, and again, so lewdly destroying your pretty cunt. “Just want Yukhei to touch you all over instead, don’t you?”

“No,” You croak.

You spread your thighs instinctively wider apart, allowing him to sink even further into you until it feels as if he’s hitting you so far in your stomach. Each roll of his hips is punctuated by the crude noise of skin against skin, sending you spiralling.

“Want him to do all sorts of dirty things to you, huh?”

“N-No. Fuck, Jungkook━ Harder, please━”

“That’s what you said,” Jungkook retorts. Still, he listens to your pleas, snapping his hips into yours roughly enough to send you jolting back on the bed. His hands start to roam your body, pinching at your hips, then grasping ferociously at one of your breasts. “Want him to fuck you in his car, right?” His palm feels like fire as it slides up past your collarbones to your throat. “Want him to choke you.”

His hand comes to wrap around the underside of your jaw on your throat, thumb and index finger pressing against the pressure points there. He squeezes, though with barely any force, just enough to feel your rapid pulse beneath his digits in a way that makes you so suddenly hyper aware of everything he’s doing to you. Cock stretching you wide, palm heavy around your throat, mouth folding over yours. So caught up in the overwhelming sensations you’re feeling, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely upset with himself, though you suspect part of him is. You can sense it in the way he clings to you a little tighter, can see it laced within his dazzling pupils.

Jungkook huffs, hair flopping into his eyes as he grits his teeth and ruts his hips faster into you if only to see more of your pretty little reactions. Your jaw unhinges at the feeling, head falling back onto the pillows. “He could probably treat you nicer too.”

You shake your head wildly, fingers digging into the skin on his shoulders. “Just want you, Koo.”

“Still?” he asks. His grip on your neck fastens a little more, pure euphoria riddling all your senses and making you writhe beneath him. “God, you’re such a dumb little slut, aren’t you?”

You nod in your groggy exhaustion, the familiar burn coiling in your stomach, making your toes curl.

Jungkook feels your own high approach. Your walls are clenched so tightly around him, he has to sputter for air. “Could he make you feel like this?”

“No, Koo,” You whine. “Only you.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook growls. “Good girl. Gonna cum around my dick like the good little slut you are?”

Your hips ricochet upwards to meet his, relentless pounding into your core. “Please, please━”

Jungkook quickens his pace until you’ve deteriorated into absolute shambles, whimpering his name after each thrust. You tumble towards your high, cuming around his length as he burrows it into you again and again, and all he can think is mine, mine, mine. As you unravel beneath him, he slides his hand off of your throat and slithers it underneath you and around your waist, hoisting you slightly enough off the bed so that he can reach his own orgasm. He’s a little more frantic now, sloppy and restless as he pummels into you.

“Shit, baby━” he cries out. “Oh, fuck, you’re so good━”

As you come down from your high enough, you somehow manage to murmur drowsily, “Cum in me, Koo. Wanna feel it.”

You grab at his face, pulling him down to catch his lips on yours, and the thought is so tempting he can’t refuse. He gets so lost in your lips, cuming with one final slam of his hips into yours and a chorus of curses mingling with your name in whimpers. He rides out both of your highs with a few half-hearted thrusts, more concerned with kissing you in useless open-mouthed kisses as your own mouth parts with one last weary moan while he fills you up.

When he’s spent, he collapses against your chest, and you collapse onto the bed. It’s quiet long enough for the both of you to calm the shrill beat of your hearts when you feel Jungkook stir, moving to part from you, pulling his dick from your swollen pussy and planting a lingering peck on your cheek. He disappears momentarily but returns a few seconds later, towel in hand which he uses to wipe at your core now leaking with his cum and your heart croons at all his tender touches.

It makes you realize all at once that, god, yes, you’re so in love with your idiot best friend and he’s so in love with you.

“Jungkook.”

He turns to look at you, an adoring smile dancing upon his lips when he sees your own radiant beaming face. You beckon him over and he relents, letting you pull him into your arms. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he wraps his own arms around you to tug you closer to his side. As your fingers come to rake through his sweaty hair, he cranes his neck to follow your hand and hear him coo against your neck, “That feels so good.”

A sudden thought crosses your mind that has you smirking smally to yourself. “Are we… Are we cuddling? Jungkook, I thought you didn’t like cuddling. Said it was, and I quote, sentimental bullshit.”

“I never liked it because it wasn’t with you. Didn’t wanna waste my time on someone that wasn’t you,” Jungkook hums, matter-of-fact. You can tell he’s a little embarrassed at the way you so casually taunt him about such an obvious fact, though he’s fortunate you can’t see him smiling like a complete fool. “And I wanna do all that sentimental bullshit with only you. Now, shush━” He scolds you playfully. “M’so tired and I just wanna hold you tight.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Your heart leaps in your chest. “Just promise me one thing?”

It’s only then that he lifts his sleepy gaze to find yours, apprehensive of any potentially looming severity in your words. “Anything.”

Instead, all he can find is the way you trace your finger along the details of his face, from his nose, to his cheekbones, down to the freckle under his lip with the hand that sports your friendship bracelet. “In the morning, when we wake up, you’ll still be here to hold me tight. And every other morning after that.”

His smile widens even more, if that was even possible. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. But━”

“But?”

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

His eyes sparkle cheekily. “Kiss me.”

So, you do, again and again and again; and Jungkook thinks, yeah, he certainly can get used to this.

It takes you a month to cave in to Jungkook’s incessant pleas to fuck you to his sex playlist. You do it mostly to humour him, though part of you is a little bit intrigued at the thought.

Stowed away in his room, he eats you out to the choruses of sultry The Weeknd and raunchy Ariana Grande songs, fucks you to the likes of the Neighbourhood and Kim Petras while you’re on all fours, and you’re only half-paying attention to the music until you hear it. Admittedly, you almost completely miss it but you blame Jungkook and the way he’s making you currently feel, sprawled out beneath him, chests pressed flush against one another in a sweaty, sticky mess, breathy and glorious moans of your name filling your ears when━

“I had no choice but to hear you. You stated your case time and again━”

The dulcet chime of Alanis Morissette thrums about the room, a complete and utter shift in contrast in the atmosphere that has you immediately pausing.

“Jungkook.” But he knows what you set out to say even before you do, judging by the tone in your voice and the stifling smirk on his face. You gawk at him, biting at your lip to hide your laughter but you fail miserably. “You weren’t joking?”

He shrugs innocently, leaving you just as dumbfounded as you were two seconds ago. Instead, he says, “Gotta do what I promised then, don’t I?”

You quirk a brow. “What was that exactly?”

“Gotta give you the best orgasm of your life.”

“If you can do that to cheesy 90s pop, I’ll have your actual babies, Jungkook.” The effort is endearing and impressive, to say the least.

A roll of your eyes is met with a taunting roll of his hips into yours that wipes the jest off your face immediately. He grins like a madman, uttering a little stupidly, and a little ardently, “Say no more.”

Because, all things considered and joking aside, he wants it with you ━ the dazed daydreamy talk of a future together and kids, friendship bracelets, and cuddles in the morning. Because you mean the world to him and more. Because you’re his best friend, and he’s so madly in love with you.

Because he wants it all with you.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

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stableoftheunstable · 3 years

Text

a/n: this hasn’t been proofread so good luck :D

inspo for this was someone on tumblr 😓😓

warnings: degrading and slapping is heavily used, swearing, smoking,

stoner eren >>> 😁😁

for music vibes:

———————————————————————

The light of your phone gleamed with a text that read "you coming?" Briefly you glanced at your phone before replying with a simple "yeah, be there in 5" grabbing your stuff off your bed you headed for the door and quickly you glanced at yourself in your mirror, your old joggers and random hoodie you found on the floor stared back at you in the mirror. You briefly sighed before leaving your dorm room, after hopping down the stairs you reached Connie's dorm, before you could even knock the door swung open almost as whoever opened it could hear your enduring footsteps and to no surprise Jean lured over you, his eyes almost pierced through your skin, "you look hot" he said as he shot you a cheesy grin. "oh, shut up you perv" your eyes rolled before you pushed him aside, "eesh... sucks to be you Jean," Connie's voice echoed as you walked further into the room. Sasha and Connie laid on the ground unbothered by what was going on around them and Eren sat on Connie's bed scrolling through his phone.

Without a care you collapsed onto the bed next to Eren, his icy eyes peered at you before gently sighing and went back to scrolling through his phone. "Are we getting high or what, I got places to be." he asked clapping his hands together, Connie shot his head up and directed Eren towards the container kept in a spare draw. "sure, he does," Sasha whispered to Connie followed by the two of them laughing. Fascinated your eyes stayed fixated on Eren's movements, his hair was thrown in a messy bun and the rings on his fingers clanked on the containers.

"You can stop staring y/n" Sasha giggled before throwing food into her mouth. Awkwardly you mimed towards her to shut up, " ew jeager? You could do better," jean snickered , Eren rolled his eyes at him and went to respond before he was interrupted "Like you're any better" Connie chuckled adding in his two cents with Sasha cheering him on before sitting , "Bro you literally have no hair," Jean snapped towards him, you and Sasha snicker at Jeans remark as Connie murmured "shut up..," Eren slid back next you and pulled out the grinder from the container, "you roll?" Eren asked with his azure eyes looking down at you "Of course she can't, she doesn't smoke like that" Connie uttered, the rest of the group laughed as you kept your face stern. He wasn't wrong you've only smoked a few times and had a few edibles but never actually made it. Eren furrowed his eyebrows awaiting your answer.

With no idea if you actually could you nodded as Eren slid he tray onto your lap, aimlessly you stared at the tray your eyes grew wide as you tried to remember all the times you've seen Connie do it. Noticing your blatant confusion Eren laughed before taking the tray back "I'll do it for you, don't worry princess" he softly chuckled as you felt yourself crawl back into your skin due to embarrassment, as much as you don't want to get butterflies over one of your oldest and closest friends, but you couldn't help but melt under his voice and the little pet name he called you, you and Eren sat their aimlessly looking at each other with what felt like pure and utter lust.

"Listen lovebirds, eye fuck in your own time" Jean sneered looking at you and Eren, his face displaying his clear jealousy. In the far corner of the room Connie and Sasha who laughed what appeared from Connie's phone. They looked more like a couple than ever his head laid in her lap as she circled his lower back, you couldn't help but feel jealous. Not at them but at what they had with each other it was cute to be honest, they'd always seem happy together and honestly went hand in hand it was a shame they didn't just commit.

Eren rolled the blunt in his calloused hands, his eyes fixated on aligning everything right every breath he exhaled was softer than the last, his tongue tried to lick along the rolling paper however his piercing kept getting slightly in the way. Eren turned towards you and asked, "do you mind just licking across for me?" His slightly hooded eyes locked into yours he brought it towards your mouth as hesitant as you were, you swiftly licked the paper catching some loose specks of weeds on your tongue, you could see his gentle smirk as he looked down on you, the silver if his tongue piercing peaking through. "Thanks, beautiful" he whispered before rolling the joint. Your stomach churned as butterflies fluttered violently his thanks making them worse, your cheeks violently blushed.

The reflection of the rings on his finger showed a bright gleam as they wrapped around his index finger, the loose sleeve of his hoodie rolled up and a fresh tattoo peered from his sleeve, a Japanese dragon swarmed up his forearm with his veins lightly popping up leaving them on display, his hair was thrown up into a sleek messy man bun showing a freshly cut undercut that shaped his face. You couldn't help but stare at him in all this glory as much as you hate to admit he looked attractive as the lights of Connies room hit him or maybe it was how late it was? But something pulled you into the idea of him, breaking rules, risking it all just for each other.

By the time you finished swatting the ideas of him from your mind, Eren was done with wrapping the blunt and searched for a lighter. Jean noticed your infatuation with Eren "Eren, do you clean your tongue piercing after every bitch you fuck?" Jean spat out; his face screwed towards Eren.

Why was he being so hostile?

You had no clue, yes you had a thing? But that was so long ago, like years ago. Sasha abruptly lifted her head and b-lined her eyes to meet with yours, the two of you tried your hardest to communicate with each other trying not to draw attention to yourself.

Looking at Jean in utter disgust, "No shit bitch. Of course, I do. Do you wash your hands every time your fingers are deep in a girl?" Eren found the lighter and sat back down. After Eren's words the room fell flat "Jean please tell me you do." Connie questioned scared of the answers he may get back. The room paused and all your faces turned to Jean waiting for the obvious response of yes and yet no reply. "BRO, even I wash my hands" Sasha uttered after going over her words, "What do you mean 'even I wash my hands' huh?" Connie asked lifting his head from Sasha's lap. Sasha's eyes dilated in worry before swiftly saying "I meant 'I'd' !!". Connie, still naive as ever got rid of his confused face and laid back in her lap making Sasha look up and mouth 'thank god' before diverting everyone's attention back to Jean. You giggled at Sasha catching on what she was saying followed her lead on diverting the attention. "That's just so wrong... all the times I took stuff from your hands-" you couldn't help the look that grew on your face. "I usually just shove my fingers in her mouth. You know? Let her take care of it" Jean stammered. "And it gets worse... Jean stop talking" Connie shook his head in disbelief. "Jeez I'd hate to be the girl fucking you wow" you stated, "Just for that you're getting this blunt last," Eren voiced.

Following from his words Eren pursed his lips and lit the blunt in his mouth, he softly inhaled allowing the smoke to filtrate his lungs before he exhaled it all back out and his back slumping along with it, the smoke blew in your direction clouding your sight. Through the smoke Eren's hand reached out to you with the blunt intertwined in his fingers, without hesitation you picked it up and placed it upon your lips you tried to inhale but you felt the smoke roll to the back of your throat causing you to cough it all back up, choking on the smoke laughter from Sasha and Connie echoed throughout. Caving of embarrassment, you handed the blunt to Sasha while trying to regain the saliva back to your mouth. As the smoke cleared Eren asked if you were okay as your eyes drew tears from the failure of inhaling. "You need to relax your body y/n, otherwise it'll roll back" After being passed round in a circle the blunt ended back in Eren's hand.

"Wanna try something?" he asked, the huskiness of his voice coming through. Trusting him you nodded "Follow my lead okay? Don't tense up okay, I'm not going to hurt you." Eren pulled you closer towards him his cologne radiating onto yours, he took a long hit from the blunt and instead of exhaling he approached your slips and slowly blew smoke into your mouth. At this point you were inhaling the smoke at the same time he blew it towards your mouth. Your body almost froze. You felt beyond intoxicated, Eren rested his empty hand on your bottom lip, slightly pulling it down make it available to intake the smoke. He pulled away revealing the cheesiest grin you've ever seen him have, Eren tilted his head down to your ear and whispered "Good job princess" before passing the blunt to someone in the midst.

A "holy fuck" slipped from Sasha's mouth as the smoke draped into your mouth, your head filled with thoughts, wishing you could of edged closer to just kiss him. Despite the thoughts you could feel the high start to hit, you traced your fingers up Eren's bare forearm all the way to his lips and dragged it back down. The whites of his eyes were being dragged by the redness his high pulled on, his hands clung to your waist as you fell onto his broad shoulder. Despite Eren clearly being high he still took his turn hitting it. Each time your body moved along with his. Through the midst you saw Sasha whisper to Connie "But its MY dorm" Connie complained as the two of them stood up with Jean following, "Oh shut up just stay at mine for the night, Hitch is out, "Sasha winked towards you and mouthed 'call me' before closing the door behind her, leaving you and Eren alone.

Eren's fingers circled your waist ever so lightly, barley caressing your skin, you let out a giggle as his touch tickled at your skin, You peered up at his high blue eyes that looked down at you. The sexual tension grew as you sat in silence. Your mind stayed racing at the thoughts of him, noticing your infatuation Eren moved his had from your waist to your neck his hands wrapped around your neck softly, the warmth of his hands engulfed your neck as the silver rings that wrapped around his fingers sent shivers down your spine. Your eyes followed his veins up his arm before he softly used his index finger to lift your chin up and made your eyes align. Icey blue eyes aligned with yours ; they went from a timid shadow almost into an intoxicating bliss. "can i kiss you?" he softly asked, your heart sunk over the weight of his words as butterflies grew. A smile grew across your face as I violently blushed 'yeah,' you whispered smiling and without hesitation.

His lips connected with yours, the roughness of his lips against your soft ones, ignited a feeling inside your stomach you melted into the kiss and kissed him back in a slow and sensual kiss, his hand that was pressed against your neck slowly tightened enough for you to still breathe. Trying to not break the kiss you climbed on top of him, dangling your legs on either side of him. Unknowingly a breathy moan escaped from your mouth to his as the metal of his tongue piercing slipped against yours, instantly you could feel his grin against your lips. His hands roamed from your neck to your waist as he covered your neck in slow yet sloppy kisses, slight groans escaped his mouth as marked your skin. Your arms draped around him as you tugged on his surprisingly smooth hair the cold metal made everything better in your eyes. His hands traced their way down to the wetness that grew in your underwear, "fuck already?" he groaned in-between kisses. His words echoed throughout your mind, as Eren's hand met your hoodie and he lightly tugged onto it begging for you reassurance. Pulling away from your neck his eyes aligned with yours, your forehead pressed against his. "I want you " he whispered on your skin, his intoxicating charm drove you crazy, "you have me " you replied.

Without skipping a beat, you guided Eren as he removed your hoodie leaving his hands to crawl against your skin to cup your breasts, your back arching towards the cold of his hands . His calloused fingers unclipped your bra and tossed it towards the side his thumbs ran over your nipples, the contrast between his cold fingers and your warm body made you clench around him. Eren pushed you down until he could latch onto on of your breasts his tongue swirling around your nipple, his cold piercing let a tingling feeling push down your spine. You buried your head into his shoulder as you moaned at his aggressiveness, his dick grew beneath you causing him to curse under his breath briefly. Eren blatantly chose to tease you, softly intoxicating you with every small move. Eren wasted no time pulling down his boxers, kicking them away while you raised your hips just wanting him buried inside of you as soon as possible. As gently as he could he slipped your underwear off and lowered you onto his begins to pull in and out of you slowly, getting used to the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, his face scrunched up in pleasure much likes yours, your hands gripping the sheets so tightly and you couldn't help but mumble out Eren's name. "Say that louder Princess, " he groaned as he placed his thumb onto your throbbing clit. You threw your head back, your back following soon after. With Erens eyes glaring at your body up and down you couldn’t help but blush more than you already were. your walls grazed his dick, luring him back in each stroke igniting a flame in his eyes, the burn in his eyes stayed stable trying not to overstep boundaries, noticing this words slipped out of your mouth as he abruptly stroked into you, “is that all you got?” you asked your hands circling his back, your words caused him to slower his pace as the flame in his eyes grew. after waiting for a reaction, abruptly his hand slapped against your already hot skin testing the limits, he waited for your reaction even though you face stared blank in shock, he could feel you pulsate around him. “do you like that?” he asked, with emotions bubbling you nodded burying your face in shame, his spare hand reached your chin pulling it closest to his face, his lips barley touching yours, “use your words princess” the words made his lips graze yours as the pet name went straight to your core. “y-yes i do.” you stuttered as he abruptly thrusted into you. Eren chuckled at your face as he grabbed ahold of your wrists, tightly gripping restraining you marking your skin every way he possibly could. “that’s going to mark me, don’t go so hard” you groaned, you hated the idea of anyone knowing what was going on, hickeys already cascaded up your neck, you didn’t need your wrists printed too. “why, you don’t want anyone to know how much of a whore you are for me” a grin plastered over his face, “ too bad, people need to know who you belong to princess,” he whispered at you ear before softly biting . the whole time Eren kept his thumb plastered over your clit as you rocked yourself into him making him twitch inside of you, “ you feel so fucking good” he groaned, the room filled with sounds and degrading words from Eren turning you on “Eren— i’m so close-“

“i prefer daddy.” His head tilted peering down at your tear filled eyes. “ daddy please? just let me-“ you moaned out, your words flew out before you could even process what was going on, Sweat dropped down from you forehead and you hair dropped down from the hair bands hold. “god your so messy,” he chuckled at the screams that scored through your throat. You could feel yourself hitting your limit, yet holding yourself back at Eren’s past demands. “you can cum princess,” he tapped at your thigh and seconds after you felt yourself go hazy, white specks flooded your eyes as you felt Eren also hit his limit. Both flushed your eyes lined in silence and all you could say was

“fuck.”

#eren x you #eren smut #eren x reader #aot smut #aot #smut #frat boys #weedhead #stoner #jean kirstein #sasha blouse #connie aot #eren jeager smut #Spotify

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sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years

Text

Hoodie Thief

Pairing: Eijirou Kirishima x reader

Warnings: Fem reader, super fluffy and one of my favorites!

A/N: Is it clear to you guys now that I have a certain liking for this boy? I take no criticism. This is the oneshot that was too long for the hoodie headcanons I put out a few days ago, so here it is. I absolutely loved writing this and hope you love reading it!

Enjoy!

-Sugar

---------------------- ≪ °✾° ≫ ----------------------

You drained the last of your tea as you sat on the common room couch, a textbook abandoned at your side while you took a 'break' from studying to scroll aimlessly through your phone. You were nearly alone in the room, the only other student out at this time being Tokoyami. The two of you hadn't really spoken, the only acknowledgment of each other's presence being a subtle nod when you'd come in.

You were currently thumbing through Tumblr, half-heartedly hopping around on blogs looking for new writers to read from. Casually scanning through fics, you couldn't find anything that particularly caught your interest.

The lights of the common room had been dimmed for the night, stars just barely visible from the floor-to-ceiling windows set in the walls. You liked the sleepy feeling that pressed against the back of your eyes, your thoughts having slowed to a hazy stream after a long day of being active and awake. The darkness of the room wrapped around you like a blanket, comfortably enveloping you. You were truly a creature of the latest hours. The rest of your class was probably more or less asleep, but you had other plans, deciding to wait up for your boyfriend to return. It wasn't that late yet, maybe a little past eleven, but you were prepared to stay seated for another few hours.

Contrary to your resolve, a familiar set of footsteps made their way into the common room, and you glanced up to see your red-haired boyfriend. You broke into a grin. "Hey, Eiji. Back from your work study already?"

He caught sight of you on the couch and smiled back. "Yeah. Fatgum let us go early. There was some villain paperwork he had to do on a robbery we helped stop today and—wait a second. Is that my hoodie?"

You glanced down at the red fabric you were swaddled in. "Uhh . . . maybe?"

Tokoyami had looked up, silently observing your exchange from across the room with newfound interest.

"Dude," Kirishima said. "I've been looking everywhere for that for the last month."

"Oops."

"You said you hadn't seen it!"

You shrugged helplessly, flopping back against the couch in dismissal. Your fingers went back to their work on your phone—however, this time you were carrying out your premeditated plan in the case of you ever getting caught like this.

Kirishima smirked and put a hand on his hip, shifting his weight slightly as he held out his hand. "Give it back."

"Why?"

"Because it's mine."

Your eyes flicked back up to meet his. "Oh, ho ho, I don't think so."

Eijirou frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You see," you said, standing up. "In this relationship, there is no longer a 'mine' or 'yours'." A devilish smirk appeared on your face, pausing for a bit of effect. "There is now only 'ours'."

With that, you pressed play on your phone. The USSR anthem started blasting from your speaker as you dashed off, vaulting over the couch with Kirishima hot in pursuit.

(In case you’re interested)

You were a near-even match; your own speed aided by your months of training combined with Eijirou's leftover tiredness from the day kept the two of you sprinting around the empty first floor, trying to keep your giggles quiet for the benefit of those attempting to sleep upstairs and in the dorms around you.

Your song ended and you glanced down to start it again. In your moment of distraction, Eijirou took a final, valiant leap of faith and tackled you to the ground, pinning you to the floor under you.

"Noooo!" you cried out, the hand that was holding your phone dramatically going limp.

Eijirou shifted his weight so he could roll you over, giggles still bubbling up from your throat. "Now, about taking back what's mine—" His hands started to dip under your hoodie, purposely wriggling his fingers against your sides to make you squirm and giggle more. His hands hit bare skin, and he paused, confused, digits feeling around for some kind of undershirt or tank top.

A diabolical light stole your eyes once again, smirking at his discovery that you were just wearing the hoodie.

"Forcibly removing clothing from a lady?" you said in mock horror, smile still playing on your lips. "And out in public too? That's not very manly."

His mouth fell open at your accusation, wholly defeated by what you had said and done.

"Whatcha gonna do?" you continued to tease. "Can't take it away from me now~"

Eijirou hauled you onto his shoulder, getting up off the ground. "Sure about that, babe? You're coming with me."

He lugged you over to the elevator, still laughing as your legs flailed and your fists playfully pounded against his strong back. Kirishima grinned and waved at Tokoyami, who had been captively watching the whole affair from his vantage point on the couch. Eijirou pressed the button for the fourth floor, the doors closing you in together. He carried you straight to his room, kicking the door shut with his foot before finally tossing you onto his bed.

"Now, about me getting that hoodie back . . . ."

You stuck out your tongue, sitting up and crossing your legs over each other. "Come and get it," you taunted.

Kirishima surged forward, wrapping his arms securely around your waist as he brought you in for a kiss. You happily pushed back into him, folding your own arms around his neck. He rubbed your sides through the cloth of the hoodie, eventually slipping his hands underneath again to brush over your skin. You sighed into the kiss, letting his tongue dart into your mouth to meet with your own. He started to slowly lift the hem of the sweatshirt, the bottom of your sports bra peeking out to meet the cool air of his room. Finally, you groaned in defeat, slipping your arms from the sleeves and letting him pull away to slide it over your head.

He danced off a few steps backwards as you pouted on the edge of his bed, having difficulty in squishing down your smile. Kirishima triumphantly held up the article of clothing, sliding it onto his own body for safekeeping.

"Okay, okay, fine. You can have it back," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "It was starting to not smell like you anymore, so I was considering returning it anyway."

"Well, little miss tsundere," Kirishima said, folding his own arms in mockery at your position. "You had it so long . . . ."

An idea struck him as his voice trailed off. He buried his nose into the collar, inhaling deeply. He could smell . . . you. It was wonderful. The perfect combination of your deodorant, perfume, sweat, and even some hints of your shampoo and conditioner. Eijirou closed his eyes for a second, relishing in the traces of yourself you had left behind.

"Uh, Earth to Kirishima," you said from the bed, awkwardly watching your boyfriend sniff his own hoodie.

He peeked out at you, wondering exactly what traces of him you had been able to smell the first day you had come into his room and stolen his hoodie.

"You are going to wash that, right?" you asked him, staring dubiously at his far too-pleased expression.

"Not until it stops smelling like you~" He sang the last part of his sentence, letting his sharp teeth flash over the collar of the hoodie in his smirk.

"Eww, I got that out of your hamper and wore it for a month." You wrinkled your nose.

"Too bad."

You rolled your eyes. "I'd offer you one of my hoodies, but I don't think you'd fit."

Kirishima shrugged, finally taking his face out of the front of the sweatshirt.

"Now how am I going to get back to my room?" You gestured down at yourself. You were glad at the rest of your choice of clothing for the day; a sports bra and high-waisted yoga pants. It was okay with you to wear that around your boyfriend, but being seen by one of your classmates in the hallway might be a little too much.

Kirishima sighed and went to his closet, pulling out one of his t-shirts. "Will this do it for you, Princess?"

You happily took it, slipping into the red material. To your delight, this one smelled like him just as much, but you opted to be more subtle than your boyfriend; deciding to wait until you got to the privacy of your room before taking a deep inhale of the clothing article. "Thanks, Eiji."

"No problem."

"How long do I get to keep it?"

He thought for a moment. "Can you please just give it back to me when I ask?"

"Will I get another one?"

Kirishima rolled his eyes. "You drive a hard bargain. You're lucky you look so dang cute in my clothes."

You giggled, finally taking your turn to pull the collar of his shirt over your nose, eyes twinkling over the fabric.

Eijirou stared at you, the intense feeling of how much he loved you suddenly crashing down on his chest. He walked back to his bed, wrapping his arms around you and laying the both of you down. "I have decided that we're going to cuddle now," he bluntly stated, nuzzling into your shoulder.

"Ooh, do I get a choice in this?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Kirishima said, suddenly letting go of you and rolling over so his back was to you. "I forgot how much you hate cuddles. I'll just be over here—"

"NOOO!" You tackled him, peppering kisses all over his neck, fighting to find patches of exposed skin among the abundance of the fabric of his hoodie.

He laughed, giving in to your tugging hands and rolling onto his back. You happily kissed his cheeks and nuzzled his nose, hugging him from above.

"I was just kidding," he said. "You get all the cuddles you could ever want! I'd say you get all the cuddles you deserve, but then we'd be here forever, and I don't think that would be very productive. It would be nice though."

You snuggled into his chest, happy he was there, happy you could hold him and wrap your arms around him. "Yeah . . . ," you said. "I love you. Thanks for being my boulder."

"Thanks for being my pebble."

It should be illegal how soft Kiri was in that hoodie. The two of you spent the next hour just holding each other in bed, conversing and getting comfortable with each other. Kirishima was right. You'd gladly spend forever in his arms. You both began to drift off, sleep finally overtaking your heavy eyelids.

---------------------- ≪ °✾° ≫ ----------------------

A/N: I snatched some inspo for this from Yagami Yato’s ‘Manly Kisses’ video on YouTube, so if you’re interested, go check it out! This oneshot was so much fun to write, I couldn't handle it! I literally had to take a ton of breaks to just sit back in my desk chair and squee.

Make sure you're staying hydrated and active, kiddos! It's important!

Love you,

-Sugar

Taglist: @basicaegyo @iiminibattlehero @pyrofanatic @xoxopam4

#eijirou kirishima #kirishima eijirou #kirishima bnha #eijirou kirishima bnha #kirishima fluff #kirishima imagine #eijirou kirishima imagine #kirishima eijirou imagine #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #reader insert #sugar fics

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kjack89 · 3 years

Text

gold rush

As was requested, a sequel to ‘tis the damn season (tumblr, AO3). ExR, modern AU, former relationship. Still not a happy ending. Still the potential for writing more.

I’m here.

Enjolras sent the text message and tried to ignore what felt an uncomfortable amount like nerves as he leaned against the fence, scrolling aimlessly through Twitter. He jumped when the gate swung open next to him, relaxing only slightly when he saw Grantaire. “Hey,” Grantaire said, his breath fogging the air.

“Hey,” Enjolras returned, a little awkwardly, wondering what the protocol was for greeting an ex.

Luckily, Grantaire solved the problem for him, reaching out to give him a quick, one-armed hug. “I honestly wasn’t sure you’d call,” he said as he let go of Enjolras. “Considering how we, uh, left things.”

Enjolras was tempted to ask if he was referring to how they’d left things a few nights ago after their chance meeting outside of the bar, or how they’d left things a decade ago when they broke up, but decided against it. “Technically I didn’t call you,” he pointed out instead, shoving his phone in the pocket of his coat. “I texted.”

Grantaire grinned. “Pedantic as always,” he said.

Wordlessly, they fell in line next to each other, walking down the sidewalk in momentary silence, which Grantaire broke with a sideways look at Enjolras. “So are you still scared of my parents?”

Enjolras scowled. “I’ve never been scared of your parents,” he said, somewhat insulted.

“Then why would you not just come up and ring my doorbell instead of texting me?” Grantaire asked, amused. “For that matter, why did you never once ring my doorbell the entire time we were dating?”

“I don’t know,” Enjolras said honestly. “I guess it never occurred to me that I should have.”

Grantaire chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I suppose I can forgive you,” he said, nudging Enjolras lightly with his shoulder. “You were in high school, after all. And an idiot.”

“Thanks,” Enjolras said sourly.

“But I’m sure you’ve had a lot more experience meeting the parents of your significant other, Grantaire continued, glancing sideways at Enjolras. Right?”

Enjolras hesitated. “Depends on what you mean by experience,” he hedged.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“In my defense, I haven’t really ever dated someone that seriously.” Grantaire didn’t say anything and Enjolras winced with sudden realization. “Besides, um, besides you, I mean,” he muttered.

To his surprise, Grantaire just laughed lightly. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said, and Enjolras frowned at him.

“Do what?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Pretend like we were more than what we were.”

Enjolras frowned at him. “I was under the impression we dated for three years in high school,” he said warily, wondering where exactly Grantaire was going with this.

Evidently, nowhere, since Grantaire just shook his head and looked down at the slush-dotted sidewalk. “You know what? Let’s not do this right now.”

Part of Enjolras wanted to ask, again, do what?, but he figured playing dumb wouldn’t get him particularly far. Instead, he asked, “Why not?”

“Because this is our last night in town together, and I assume when you texted me this morning to ask if I wanted to grab a drink that there would actually be drinks involved,” Grantaire said with a sigh. “And I don’t know about you, but I prefer my drinks without dredged up decades-old arguments.”

Enjolras cocked his head slightly. “Does it count as an argument if only one party is seemingly involved?”

Grantaire didn’t laugh. “I’ll defer to the lawyer among us on that.”

“Then I would say no,” Enjolras said, but Grantaire still didn’t so much as crack a smile. “Seriously, I’m not sure where you’re going with this, and I’m definitely not sure I can table something that I don’t understand.”

Grantaire sighed and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “Can we please just get that drink?” he asked, sounding tired. “It’s too fucking cold to have this conversation out here. And you know that I’ve always been better arguing with a drink or twelve in me.”

“On that point, the defense will stipulate.”

“Ok Yoda,” Grantaire said with a snort.

Enjolras scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Grantaire gave him a look. “Please tell me that I don’t have to explain Star Wars to you.”

“Fuck off, you know that’s not what I meant,” Enjolras said, without any real heat. “But if you see me as Yoda, of all characters—”

“I didn’t say that, but your turn of phrase was particularly Yoda-esque,” Grantaire shot back.

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “So you don’t think I’m like Yoda?”

Grantaire smirked. “Didn’t say that either.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and huffed, “I feel like I’m beginning to understand why Han shot first.”

“Oh, so now I’m Greedo?” Grantaire asked, half-insulted and half-amused.

“And I didn’t say that.”

The familiar bickering carried them all the way to the bar, where they settled at a table in the back. “Uh, vodka tonic for me,” Grantaire told their waitress as he struggled to peel his sweatshirt off, the tshirt he was wearing underneath caught up in it as he tugged it up over his head.

Enjolras tried not to stare at the swath of taut skin revealed, and it took several tries before he realized the waitress had asked him a question. “Uh, what?”

“Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress repeated, looking like she was trying not to laugh.

“Uh…” Enjolras trailed off as Grantaire, finally triumphant over his sweatshirt, settled back in his seat, his arm muscles shifting as he reached up in vain to flatten his hair. “I’ll have the same.”

The waitress nodded and headed over to the bar, and Grantaire frowned at Enjolras. “Since when do you drink vodka?”

“Since when do you?” Enjolras returned, arching an eyebrow. “Last I saw, whiskey was your drink of choice.”

“Yeah, well, too many Jamo shots will ruin even the best whiskeys,” Grantaire said with a light laugh. “Besides, clear liquor has less calories, and I’m trying to watch my girlish figure.”

Enjolras laughed and the waitress returned with their drinks. Grantaire picked up his drink and made a mock toast. “Happy holidays,” he said, taking a large sip, as Enjolras just shook his head, his own sip much more reasonable.

“So now that you have alcohol in your system,” he said, setting his glass down on the table, “can we revisit what it was you were talking about earlier when you said that I shouldn’t pretend we were something we weren’t?”

Grantaire sighed. “Just when I was beginning to have a nice time,” he said mournfully.

“Grantaire.”

Even after all those years, it appeared Enjolras saying Grantaire’s name had a similar effect as it used to, as Grantaire sighed again, tracing a finger around the rim of his glass. “I just think you and I remember things a little differently,” he said carefully. “Maybe it’s just nostalgia coloring your memories, or maybe you’ve got early-onset Alzheimer’s.”

Enjolras frowned. “That’s not funny.”

“And the one thing I ever had going for me was making you laugh,” Grantaire said, a little too wry to be a joke. “But seriously...whatever you and I had, it wasn’t a relationship.” He tried to smile, but to Enjolras, it looked more like a grimace. “Not in the traditional sense of the word, anyway.”

Enjolras searched his expression for a long moment, trying and failing to understand what he meant. “What are you saying?” he asked finally.

Grantaire picked his drink up and drained it before glancing around for their waitress. “I’m saying that you were my boyfriend. But I wasn’t yours.” He spotted their waitress and gestured to her before meeting Enjolras’s eyes again. “I was, at best, your friend with benefits.” He made a face. “Probably more accurately, I was your booty call. Physical release. Whatever you want to call it.”

“That’s—”

Not true was what Enjolras desperately wanted to say, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to. Mostly because he had a sinking feeling that Grantaire was correct. Grantaire arched an eyebrow as he waited for Enjolras to say something, taking a sip of his drink when the waitress returned with a refill. “Fine,” Enjolras said finally. “Maybe it was mostly physical, but that wasn’t all it was.”

“Sure, it was also your rebellion against the heteronormative world,” Grantaire said, nodding.

Enjolras scowled. “That’s not what I meant.”

Grantaire sighed. “Enjolras—”

“I loved you.”

Grantaire’s expression was unreadable. “Maybe you did. I can’t exactly claim to know every thought that’s run through your head. But I can tell you that that’s not how you acted at the time.”

“Was I really that horrible to you?” Enjolras asked quietly.

Grantaire considered it for a moment. “I think to be really horrible, that would have required you to care more about me,” he said slowly. “Instead, you...tolerated me, I guess.”

Enjolras’s chest felt tight as he thought desperately back on their relationship, on some piece of evidence he could present that would prove Grantaire incorrect. Instead, his mind replayed a litany of memories he had long since buried, of all the times Enjolras had scoffed when Grantaire tried to do something romantic, or told him to be serious when Grantaire asked him to homecoming or prom, or blew off their date nights because he had work to do on a protest.

Or, worst of all, that early morning in Enjolras’s bed, when Grantaire told him that he loved him, and Enjolras had told him that he needed to leave before Enjolras’s parents woke up.

Enjolras swallowed, hard, and forced himself to look at Grantaire. “You must’ve hated me for how I treated you,” he said softly.

Grantaire’s smile was sad. “I’ve never once in my life hated you, Enj,” he said quietly. “If anything, I hated myself for not being someone you could love.”

“I’m sorry.”

Grantaire shook his head. “That’s my issue, not yours. You didn’t do that to me.” He managed a tight smile. “I knew who you were when we were together. I knew what you wanted out of life, and I knew I wasn’t going to be a part of that.” He took a swig of his drink before adding, “And let’s also not pretend like I was some kind of stellar boyfriend. I was a fucked up mess.”

Enjolras huffed a sigh. “Maybe we both were,” he mused.

“Is that what this is about?” Grantaire asked mildly.

Enjolras frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, is this whole trip down memory lane with me just you trying to figure out where it all went wrong for you?”

“I– Who says it all went wrong for me?” Enjolras blustered. Grantaire just arched an eyebrow and Enjolras sighed, frowning down at his own, mostly untouched drink. “I guess I did envision a very different life for myself,” he admitted.

“And you’re not happy with where you are right now?” Grantaire asked, in a way that suggested he knew the answer and just wanted to hear Enjolras say it.

“How could I be?” Enjolras asked, aiming for levity as he added, “I wear a suit to work everyday, Grantaire. With a tie. My father told me he’s proud of me.”

Grantaire snorted. “The horror.” He propped his chin on his hand. “But speaking of your father, what happened to your college fund?”

“My college fund?”

“Yeah, you said that you’re working as a corporate attorney because you have to pay off your student loans, right?” Enjolras nodded and Grantaire continued, “If memory serves, your grandparents left you a fairly sizeable college fund that you were supposed to use to pay for school so that you didn’t have to take out student loans.”

“Ah,” Enjolras said, wincing. “They did.”

“And?” Grantaire prompted.

Enjolras sighed again. “And in a moment of well-intentioned idiocy, I donated every cent of it to charity.” He paused and took a sip of his drink. “Well, almost. I did pay for undergrad with it. But what was left went to charity. And then my father told me that he would be happy to pay for law school.”

Grantaire raised both eyebrows. “Really?”

Enjolras made a face. “Yeah, if I agreed to specialize in business law.”

“And?”

“And I told him to get fucked,” Enjolras said bluntly before making a face again. “Of course he’s clearly had the last laugh, so.”

Grantaire shook his head, his expression softening. “Don’t count yourself out yet. I mean, for Christ’s sake, you’re not even 30 years old yet. You’ve got time.” He paused before adding, “Besides, I still believe in you.”

Enjolras gave him a look. “Be serious.”

Grantaire half-smiled. “I am wild.”

A small smile twitched at the corners of Enjolras’s mouth and he shook his head slowly. “I keep thinking that you’ve changed so much, but then you go and say something like that and it’s like we’re 18 years old again.”

Grantaire laughed and took another sip of his drink. “I don’t know that I’d say I’ve changed,” he said.

“Then what would you say?”

“That I’ve had a lot of therapy, mostly,” Grantaire said, suddenly serious. “And grown up a little. And that while I may not have changed as much as you’re giving me credit for, I’m also not the fucked up mess I was in high school.”

Enjolras nodded, looking down at his drink again. “I wish I could say the same thing.”

“Well, it’s not too late to try.”

“I suppose not,” Enjolras allowed, managing a small smile, though it quickly faded. “And now I feel even worse.”

Grantaire frowned. “Why?”

“Because we’ve spent all this time talking about me and I haven’t asked you anything about you.” Grantaire made a face but Enjolras continued, “What are you doing these days? Hell, where are you living these days?”

“In a van, down by the river,” Grantaire said dryly.

“Hilarious.”

Grantaire smirked. “I like to think I am.” He shrugged. “I also prefer keeping a little mystery about me. Keeps ‘em coming for more, you know?”

Enjolras arched an eyebrow. “So you’re not going to answer even basic questions?”

Something darkened in Grantaire’s expression. “I mean, what is there to say? You want the square footage of my apartment? You want me to drone on about my terrible, awful, absolute godsend of a cat? You want me to talk about the latest exhibit I’m curating at the gallery I work at?”

“Actually, yeah.” Enjolras said, a little defensively, even if he didn’t quite understand the hard edge in Grantaire’s voice. “I’d like to hear about your life, if you’d let me.”

Grantaire shook his head and finished his second drink, already looking around for their waitress. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” Enjolras asked impatiently.

“Pretend you’re interested.”

“What makes you think I’m not actually interested?” Grantaire scoffed and looked away, and Enjolras swallowed, hard, realization hitting as the theme of the evening returned in full force. “Because I never used to be.”

“Not particularly, no.”

“I’m—”

Grantaire looked flatly at him. “I swear to God, Enjolras, if you try to apologize one more time…”

Enjolras held his hands up defensively. “Fine, then I’m not sorry for being a completely self-absorbed asshole.”

It was a little too caustic to be a joke, which is probably why Grantaire just shook his head, something contemplative in his expression. “You were never self-absorbed. A little self-important, maybe, and with a white savior complex to rival the colonizers you so desperately hated—”

“Watch it.”

Grantaire smirked, though it quickly faded. “But your problem was never that you only cared about yourself. Your problem was that you cared so much about saving the world that you didn’t have a lot left for the people right in front of you.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “Yeah, well, I don’t have that problem anymore,” he said tiredly.

Grantaire just raised an eyebrow. “That remains to be seen.”

“Harsh, but fair,” Enjolras said with a dry, humorless laugh. “Well, in the spirit of trying to show you that, tell me about yourself. And I will actually listen.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “Fine, I will tell you about myself – if you answer one question for me.”

“Anything.”

“Why now?”

The stark question took Enjolras by surprise, and he blinked at Grantaire. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why do you suddenly want to know about me?” Grantaire asked, a challenge in his tone. “My phone number hasn’t changed. Facebook exists. Hell, you could even find me on LinkedIn if you really wanted to. But you never made that attempt. So I want to know why you care now.” He gestured around the bar. “Because if it’s just proximity, you go back to your life tomorrow, and I go back to mine, and since the likelihood of us running into each other again is pretty slim, you don’t have to waste time pretending to care.”

“That’s not fair,” Enjolras said quietly.

Grantaire jerked a shrug. “Maybe not. But like I said, I grew up. And I don’t have time for anything but honesty.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed. “Fine, you want honesty?” he snapped, more riled than he had any right to be. “The phone works both ways. If you had wanted to stay in touch, you could have just as easily.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Grantaire’s face. “Objection. Presumes facts not in evidence.”

“I beg your pardon?” Enjolras said coldly.

“C’mon, you’re a lawyer, if I can pick up what that means from watching reruns of Law & Order, surely I don’t have to explain it to you.” Enjolras just gave him a look, and Grantaire sighed. “Fine, I guess I do.” He picked up his drink and lifted it in a mock toast once again. “I never said that I wanted to stay in touch.”

Grantaire didn’t deliver the words harshly, but Enjolras still recoiled. “Now who’s the one who doesn’t care?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them, but it was too late to take them back. Hurt flashed across Grantaire’s face before his expression evened out. “There are a lot of things you can accuse me of,” he said quietly, “but don’t ever accuse me of not caring about you. Not after everything.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras said softly. “That was...out of line.”

“You think?”

Enjolras swallowed and looked away. “So why didn’t you want to stay in touch?” he asked, a little roughly.

Grantaire sighed. “Because I preferred not knowing,” he said simply. “If I didn’t know where you were at, what you were doing, then I could imagine you however I wanted to.” He managed a small, slightly sad smile. “And, at the beginning at least, I could imagine a way that we could still work things out.”

“Like what?” Enjolras asked, intrigued despite himself.

Grantaire glanced at him. “Do you actually want to know?”

“Yes.”

Enjolras wasn’t sure if Grantaire would believe him, but it didn’t seem to matter. Or maybe Grantaire had been looking for an opportunity, and this was as good as any. “I used to imagine showing up at your fancy law school,” Grantaire said slowly, with a genuine if wistful smile. “I used to imagine that I’d sneak into one of those fancy alumni dinners – I don’t know how – and I’d hide in the background, watching you, biding my time. Then when the opportunity came, when you made some claim about the working class or something, I’d casually speak up, contradict you or ask for your sources, just to watch the recognition on your face as you looked at me.”

“But you never did,” Enjolras said, his heart beating painfully in his chest, and Grantaire snorted and shook his head.

“Of course not,” he scoffed.

Enjolras frowned slightly. “Why not?”

Grantaire just shook his head. “Logistics aside, because I knew the reality would never have been as satisfying as what I imagined.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, in the version in my head, you’d smoothly counter my point, we’d bicker like old times and then you’d excuse us to discuss this further. And then…” He trailed off, his smile turning sad. “Well, then we’d wander around campus, bickering some more and it would be like you’d never left. Like we never ended.” His voice cracked and he looked away. “Perfect.”

Enjolras almost didn’t want to speak, to interrupt the moment, but he also couldn’t stop himself from asking, “And you didn’t want to try for that?”

Grantaire shook his head again. “Of course not. Because it was a dream. That version of me and that version of you don’t exist.”

“Do you think they ever could have?” Enjolras asked.

“I don’t know,” Grantaire said honestly. “But it doesn’t matter. If there’s anything I’ve learned over the past decade, looking back only gets you so far.” He finished his drink and set it down with a clunk on the table. “Let that be the lesson of the evening, I guess. And speaking of…” He looked at his bare wrist as if pretending to look at a watch. “It’s probably time I got home. I’ve got an early train to catch in the morning.”

“Hang on,” Enjolras said, frowning. “You still didn’t tell me anything about you.”

Grantaire smirked. “Oh, you noticed that, did you?”

Enjolras gave him a look. “So stay,” he said, more of a request than an order. “Have one more drink. Tell me about your life.” Grantaire shook his head and Enjolras reached across the table, closing his hand around Grantaire’s wrist. “Please.”

“I can’t,” Grantaire said quietly. “But you’ve got my number, if you ever want to continue this conversation. Or, y’know, start a different one.”

“I wish…” Enjolras trailed off. “I don’t know. I wish I had more time. To make things up to you.” He met Grantaire’s eyes. “Or to at least try.”

Grantaire smiled crookedly at him. “Are you kidding me?” he asked, twisting his hand in Enjolras’s grip so that he could grasp his hand. “You’ve given me the only thing I’ve wanted for ten years.”

“What?”

“You asked me to stay.“

Enjolras’s throat felt tight. “Grantaire—”

Grantaire let go of Enjolras’s hand and stood, grabbing his coat and sweatshirt. “Take care of yourself, Enjolras,” he said softly. “You know how to reach me if you want to. Otherwise…”

He didn’t bother finishing his sentence, just rapping his knuckles lightly on the table before walking away. Enjolras watched him leave, wondering not for the first time if this is how Grantaire had felt watching him leave a decade ago.

Wondering if this was really the end for them.

And wondering, just a little, if this was what heartbreak felt like.

#enjolras #grantaire #exr #enjoltaire #enjolras x grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #modern au #former relationship #light angst #idk what even to tag this as #there's a lot of painful honesty here #things that should have been said a long time ago etc etc #and then it fades into the gray of my day-old tea 'cause it could never be

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goryroyalty · 3 years

Text

One of *Those* Days

High school au, (though it's never specifically said in the story.) Angst/some fluff.

Depressed Roman, self-deprecating(?) thoughts (Idk, just depressing and insulting thoughts), food mention, only one swear, I think? Did I miss anything?

Roman is having a rough morning and Remus comes to comfort them. (Also, both of them fall somewhere under the non-binary umbrella, though their exact labels are never stated.)

(I'm venting a bit tbh. I don't do this as much anymore, but I used to do it almost everyday. It sucked.)

Copper eyes fluttered open to find their room lit up with early morning light filtering through the gap between the room darkening curtains. Funny, last they remembered it was five in the morning and now- their phone screen lit up- it was almost eight o'clock. The house was silent as their parents had already left for work. They weren't aware their child had only just woke up eight minutes before school started. They had no intention of going either.

Roman sighed, a heavy feeling in their chest, and rolled onto their side. They shoved their phone under their pillow and stared at the wall blankly. Simply rolling over had taken every ounce of motivation they had. Now, all they could do was lie in bed and let their mind wander. The heavy feeling had spread throughout their entire body. It almost hurt. Their thoughts weren't focused on anything particular for a long time, just wandering aimlessly. Their phone vibrated from under the pillow, but they made no effort to grab it. At least not for a while. A few more vibrations later, their arm moved slowly when curiosity gave them some motivation to grab their phone and unlock it.

ChaosBabe (idk, I'm not good at coming up with nicknames)

u not at school 2day?

8:01

btw it/its 2day

8:01

ur missin out on Nerd gettin heated bout the way i txt again

8:03

u ok? pls respond

8:10

Roman thought of words to reply back, but their fingers didn't move to text them. Typing 'Yeah, just want to stay home.' felt like too much work, even just typing a simple yes or no was too much. Roman sighed and exited their messages, clicking on Tumblr. It didn't take long to scroll down to where they had started last night. They went to the top, refreshed a couple times, and exited the app. They stared at their wallpaper, which was Disney themed, of course, until their phone locked. They opened it again and went to Instagram. They scrolled through every social media they had with a blank stare.

15% of battery remaining

Roman dismissed the alert, getting another notification immediately after.

ChaosBabe

Ro, pls let me know if you need anything. I mean it: anything.

12:27

The teen in bed hummed, wondering how it'd passed noon already. Still, they didn't move from where they lie. Well, they did finally roll over onto their other side. They found them-self back on Tumblr again, scrolling through the posts they'd already seen. Their phone screen flashed with the screen that said the phone's type before turning completely black. Roman let out a long sigh and let go of their phone, not caring much when it slid off onto the floor.

'Well, this is pathetic, isn't it?' Roman thought, 'I can't even drag myself out of bed. This is so stupid. Just get up and get going. Why am I so lazy all the time?'

Roman's train of thought continued on that downhill track. Soon, the track ended and it was just free-fall. Tears came to Roman's copper-colored eyes but didn't fall. They felt tired, but sleep did not come. Was it really a sleepy tired, or was it simply just...tired? Roman thought it might be both. Their stomach growled, pulling their thoughts to some coherency again. They focused on food for a few moments before their mind wandered off into a daydream.

The front door opening jump-started Roman's brain. 'Did Dad come home early or is it really already five? I didn't do any chores today. Shit.'

Roman rolled over and buried their face in their pillows, not wanting to hear about how they hadn't done dishes or vacuumed or whatever hadn't visibly been done. 'Maybe, just maybe, he'll think I'm asleep and leave me alone. Or even realize something is wrong and try to comfort me? But what is wrong and how would I want to be comforted by him?'

Roman's bedroom door opened and footsteps neared their bed. They were a bit confused when the person slid in bed beside them until they heard the slight groan as they stretched, "Mm, your bed is so soft. Feels amazing."

Roman relaxed at the realization it was only Remus. They immediately thought how they wanted to turn and cuddle it. They did at least shift onto their back, staring up at the ceiling. Remus draped an arm across them, "So...one of those days? Any way that I can help?"

'Hold me. Drag me out of bed. Slap me. Shake me like a rag doll until I stop this pity party of mine.' Roman replied in their head, but their mouth felt like it couldn't move. They wanted so desperately to say something. Anything at this point. Remus sat up and shifted to look down at them, smiling softly and running a hand through their auburn hair. Roman cringed inside at the realization it was most likely greasy. They hadn't showered for a few days. Same with brushing their teeth. Their breath was going to be awful too. Roman closed their eyes as tears came to them when they thought: 'I'm disgusting.'

"Love, if I ask yes or no questions, will you answer them? You don't have to speak. You can find another way to say yes or no." Remus stroked their jaw, studying them for some movement that could be a reply. Roman's tears disappeared and they focused their thoughts on Remus' words, trying to find some will to move. They shifted their arm to rest their hand on their stomach, tapping their index against it once. "Okay, first let me make sure: what is yes?"

Roman tapped once. Remus nodded and hummed, "And no?"

Roman tapped twice. They felt a little silly if they were honest. Remus kissed their forehead, "Good, good. Okay, have you eaten today?"

Two taps.

"Do you want food?"

Roman hesitated, knowing they needed it but did they really want it? They tapped three times.

"I'll take that as a 'maybe' or 'don't know'. Next question, is there something you want me to do for you?"

Another three taps.

"Cuddle you? Carry you out of bed? Bring in food to you?" Remus rambled off the first ideas that came to its mind.

One tap. Pause. One tap. Pause. Two taps.

Remus lied back down, pulling Roman close and kissing their head a couple times. Roman felt the tears come back again, a couple escaping this time before they went away. They hated how pathetic and lazy they felt. Remus sat up with Roman still in its arms, lifting them up as it got to its feet. Roman wrapped their arms around it and buried their face in its shoulder. "Want food, Ro?"

Roman nodded, relieved at the slight progress already. Remus carried them out to the kitchen and set them on a bar stool, "Know what you want?"

Roman shrugged, looking down at the counter with a feeling of guilt and shame building up inside. Remus rubbed their back, "I'll look at what you have and list stuff off then, yeah? Or do you want to look with me or by yourself?"

Roman bit their lip as it trembled a bit. They rested their arms on the counter and buried their face into them. For the first time all day they spoke, though it was only a whisper: "Sorry."

"It's okay, Love, you don't have to apologize. I promise, I really don't mind." Remus hugged them, kissing their shoulder. "I told you I'd do anything for you. I love you, Roman."

"Love you." Roman whispered back, having to clear their throat due to not using their voice for so long. They sat up a little, "I'll look."

After a while of looking through the fridge and pantry a few times, Roman was finally settled on the bar stool with leftovers in front of them. Remus sat beside them, rubbing their back as they slowly ate. Halfway through, Roman spoke again, "I don't like that feeling. I feel so heavy yet empty at the same time. I can't move or speak or do anything. I hate it. I couldn't even reply to you, even though I really wanted to. Everything just feels...too much. It all feels like too much."

"Do you think you could even just text one letter? I was thinking we could come up with a code for when you felt like this. Like one letter means you want me to leave you alone, another for if you just want me to text or call, and another if you want me to come over. I'm honestly not entirely sure how to help or make it go away, but I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll always be here for you. No matter what, 'kay? Just say the word and I'll do it."

"Thank you, Remus." Roman hugged it, sniffling a bit. "You're more than I deserve."

"I disagree. I think we're practically perfect for each other." Remus hugged them back tightly.

"Practically perfect in every way." Roman mumbled with a slight chuckle.

"Exactly, Mary Poppins." Remus smiled, "Exactly."

Weird ending, sorry.

#remrom #romrem #romantic remrom

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years

Text

The Boy who Sings Next Door, Pt 1

Genre: just-out-of-college AU

Pairings: Pre-romantic/romantic Prinxiety, pre-romantic Logicality

Content: general anxiety/allusions to past panic attacks, (it’s Virgil, c’mon), food mentions, a lil yappy puppy, Hamilton songs (it’s Roman, c’mon), just the boys being super gay.

Word count: 2.6k

Comments: I’ve been in a bit of a funk (not the good kind of funk) recently, and this is the only thing I’ve been able to churn out during it. It will have a part two, don’t worry. Gotta get that good Prinxiety content.

Comments (the sequel): This took almost a week to write due to said funk, so I apologize for any inconsistency that appears. I have edited this as much as my brain let me, so it should be good.

Virgil hadn’t lived there for long. In fact, it was just nearing the one month anniversary of the day his two roommates and him had moved into the townhouse complex on the grungier side of town. They were still getting to know the house; the basement Virgil swore was haunted, the crudely attached cabinets that Patton very nearly pulled down every time the shorter man had to climb the counter to reach the top shelf, and especially the upstairs bathroom’s shower that would become scalding hot if someone flushed a toilet while it was running. Janus’ shriek was something Virgil wished he could have recorded on camera.

Meeting his new neighbours was still a fear he had to get over. Patton had already introduced himself to all of them (on the first day living there, with cookies, nonetheless), and was eagerly awaiting the day when Virgil would give the ‘okay’ to invite some of them over for dinner. He was especially excited about the man who lived to their left, a professor at the university across town that Patton claimed he had clicked with.

“A professor? How old is he?”

“He looked like he was our age!”

“A professor who’s twenty two?”

“Well… maybe he’s really smart! Or has a great skincare routine!”

Despite Patton’s obvious infatuations with the guy, Virgil was hesitant to meet him. He’d already had a less than promising accidental run in with the old man living on their right, incited by Janus parking in the wrong spot and poor Virgil being the one to open the door to the screaming neighbor. It had taken him twenty minutes to calm down from that panic attack. But after too many rounds of Patton’s puppy eyes, Virgil gave in.

“Only the one guy though, and I get to have a code word in case I need to leave.”

“Okay! What’s the code word?”

“I don’t know. You pick.”

“Tiddylicious?”

“SHUT THE HELL UP, JANUS!”

Surprisingly, Virgil didn’t have to use the code word (which was not tiddylicious). Logan was a pretty great guy, if slightly lacking in the ‘emoting’ department. Patton and him got on like fire in a library, and his roommates happy wiggles the whole night was probably what gave the anxious man the bravado to stick through it. Janus even had the decency to make some honest conversation, which was a first for him. Logan eventually mentioned the fact that he had a dog, and the conversation immediately derailed into Patton squealing over the pictures he showed him. They took this as the opportunity to sneak away from the two, giving them the space they obviously needed. Gross.

There was a line stretching across Logan’s backyard; a red cable that connected to his deck and reached to the fence on the opposite side. From this cord hung a pink leash, and to this pink leash, Logan attached his dog several times a day. Virgil didn’t know what the signal was for them, but every couple of hours, the sliding door would screech open and the dog would run to the gate closing off the porch, waiting impatiently until Logan clipped on the leash and let it run onto the lawn. The first time the small dog saw Virgil on his phone in the shade of his roof, it immediately took this as a grave act of terrorism and began to yap so loud that Virgil screamed. Logan quickly came back out, explaining that while his pup may have the intimidation factor of a stuffed animal, she thought all the grass of her yard and of the adjoining houses was hers to protect, even if the terrier was just about the size of a decent Thanksgiving turkey. A few head scratches later, and the two decently bonded, enough that she wouldn’t throw a hissy fit every time he sat on his porch.

That’s where he was now, half asleep in a lawn chair with one earbud in, when the tell tale squeak of Logan’s sliding door startled him from his rest. He reached up lazily and popped out his music, smiling slightly at the prospect of another conversation with Logan. Despite their age difference (it wasn’t all that much, but just enough that he got confused stares from the elder when he mentioned the prospect of ‘stealing someone’s kneecaps’), they were starting to become good friends. His hand froze, however, as he heard a voice that was very much not Logan’s coming from the man’s deck.

“Dear Alexander,

I am slow to anger,

But I, tow the line,

As I reckon with the offense of your,

Life on mine.”

And if Virgil said he didn’t immediately feel butterflies at the soft lilting of the deep voice, he would be lying. He shrunk back into his shirt, hoping the other wouldn’t glance over the short bush between them and see his blushing face. Even if he wasn’t infatuated with whoever was letting Logan’s dog out, it wasn’t like him to try and meet someone new.

The screen door shut with a loud whap and the dog pulled at the red cord as hard as she possibly could, trying to get free pets from Virgil. He obliged, but made sure to duck back to his side as soon as the door reopened.

“Raise a glass to freedom,

Something they can never take away,

No matter what they tell you.”

He lurched back into his own house at the sound of that gorgeous voice, slamming the sliding door and consequently scaring the hell out of Patton.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“What’s gotten you in such a hullabaloo?” Patton squinted from his table of crafting supplies, where it looked like he was putting together more pages for his scrapbook.

“I’m gay.”

“Ah,” The older man scrunched his eyebrows together, setting down his glue stick, “For Logan…?”

“No! Logan’s yours, don’t worry,” he ignored Patton’s indignant spluttering and blushing, satisfied that he wasn’t the only disaster gay in the room now, “Someone else is at his house.”

“Someone cute?” He was suddenly very interested in his book, trying to hide his red cheeks.

“I don’t know.”

“Then why are you in gay mode?”

“His voice.”

“His voice?”

“Quit laughing at me!” Virgil snarled non aggressively, refusing to meet Patton’s bright eyes.

“I’m not, I swear!” Patton giggled nonetheless, “It’s cute! I’ll have to hear it for myself sometime.” Virgil huffed, despite his growing smile, and went to his room, too overwhelmed to wait outside for the voice again, no matter how much his heart wanted to.

A couple days later, Patton showed up in his open doorway (it was his attempt to be less antisocial, and it made his housemates happy) grinning like a child who’d just gotten a puppy.

“I just talked to Logan-”

“Oh?” Virgil smirked, closing his laptop in favor of tea.

“Oh, shush. He just said during the summer, he has these fancy shmancy teaching seminars every weekend just out of town.”

“So?”

“Sooo…” Patton wiggled a little, sticking his tongue between his teeth, “When he’s not home, his brother watches Gremmy!”

“Gremmy?”

“How do you not know the puppy’s name? And also, you’re focusing on the wrong part of the sentence! His brother is going to be there every weekend, all summer!”

Virgil tried to digest the butterflies that exploded in his gut, failing to hide his reappearing blush. “So? We don’t even know if he’s our age, or if he’s into guys.”

Patton dropped his gaze, sucking his lips into his mouth in a vain attempt to smother his smile.

“Patton?”

“He’s our age and he’s into guys,” He squeaked.

“You asked?!”

“It came up naturally!”

“How?!”

“Not important!” He was full on beaming now, hopping on his toes. “You should totally talk to him next weekend!”

“No. Nope. Not happening.”

The following Friday, Virgil found himself sitting on his deck under the roof, scrolling aimlessly through Tumblr, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he happened to see a new car pull into Logan’s spot thirty minutes after the man left. Nothing like that at all. He sipped absentmindedly on the lemonade Patton had brought him with a cheeky look on his face, trying not to think about the fact that the angel voiced man was right next door. And his heart absolutely did not begin to pound when the tell tale screeching of the screen door sounded.

This time, music accompanied the man’s singing as he hooked the dog, Gremmy, onto her leash.

“Angelica,

Eliza,

And Peggy,

The Schuyler sisters,

Angelica (Peggy) Eliza (Work!)”

Even if Virgil had only heard his voice once, it seemed fitting that he was trying to sing every part, altering slightly to nail the voice changes of every character. He curled up a little more in his chair as the man followed Gremmy out onto the lawn, music still pumping from his phone.

“Daddy said to be home by sundown,

Daddy doesn’t need to know,

Daddy said not to go downtown,

Like I said, you’re free to go.”

Virgil couldn’t breathe, but that was the heat’s fault. It definitely wasn’t caused by the gorgeous man now dancing in small circles on the grass, dog jumping at his feet as he laughed along to the music. The sudden warmth in his face was caused by the sun, not the toned muscle of the man’s arms, or the way his much too loose muscle tee showed off his tan, or how his light brown hair flopped over his eyes when he bent down to pick up a stick from the ground. All while singing; just carelessly enjoying himself.

“Angelica, remind me what we’re looking for?

(She’s looking for me!)

Eliza, I’m looking for a mind at work (work),

I’m looking for a mind at work (work),

Woah, woah, woah, woah, work!”

The harmonies were too much, his voice flawlessly adding a fourth harmony where there wasn’t in the song. Virgil jumped like a spooked cat, fleeing into the house and drawing the curtains shut hurriedly. He knew the other man had probably heard the door slam, but that wasn’t his main concern right now.

“Gay panic?”

Virgil spun around to see Janus, all too bemused, sipping Gatorade out of a wine glass. The man’s sense of class would not be affected by the time of day. “Gay panic,” He confirmed weakly, sliding down the wall, “He’s hot.”

“Let me see.”

“Janus, no, what are you doing?!”

The taller man pulled the curtain aside, humming under his breath. “Oh yeah, he is hot.”

“Jan, stop!” He hissed, trying to tug Janus’ arm down from the curtain without being seen.

“Oh, he’s waving at me.”

“WHAT?!”

“Can I wave back?”

“NO!”

Janus waved back, kicking Virgil lightly out of sight. “Let go of my sleeve, fucker.”

Virgil did, booking it upstairs as soon as Janus dropped the curtain. He flopped onto his bed with a groan that was almost loud enough to be a shriek, swearing to himself to not go outside for the rest of the weekend. And to kill Janus later. He did leave his window open though, but not because he wanted to keep hearing the snippets of song that floated up to his room every time the sliding glass next door opened. Not at all.

Virgil hated that he ended up counting down the days until Friday, and that he couldn’t tear himself away from the window until he arrived. Responding to his housemates giggles and stares with a quick flip of the bird, he took his usual spot on the deck. Because the weather was nice, and he needs a tan. No other reason. Not that he would say out loud, anyways.

He didn’t have to wait long until the door scratched open and a calm, almost haunting melody reached his ears. He’s singing along to a track again, mixing in harmonies that send shivers up Virgil’s spine.

“I saved every letter you wrote me,

From the moment I read them I knew you were mine,

You said you were mine,

I thought you were- Shit, Gremmy, no, get back here!”

Virgil jolted upright as twenty pounds of fluff landed in his chest, paws digging into his sternum. The dog looked up at him with, dare he say, smug eyes? He ran a hand through the fur on her back, holding her collar with one hand in case she decided to bolt again.

“I am so sorry! She wormed out of the gate before I got the leash on her!”

He looked up from the dog and holy hell oh my god he’s way hotter up close. Never before in his life had he wished for Patton’s bubbliness or Janus’ general aloofness, but now he would rather have any personality trait besides anxious because oh god the hottest guy he’d ever met is staring at him and he has no idea what to say.

“Well, good thing she likes me, or you’d be down a dog.” What the hell was that?

Surprisingly, the other man laughed, folding his arms across his chest. “What, you don’t think I’d be able to catch her?”

“In all honesty, probably not.”

“How dare you!” He gasped, holding a hand to his chest dramatically, “I’ll have you know Gremmy loves me!”

“I’m sure that’s why she booked it as soon as she had the chance.” He extended the dog almost comically, her too short legs waving frantically in his grip. The man took her with a murmur of thanks, giving her a stern look that made Virgil snicker. A part of him was slightly shocked that someone related to Logan could be so… relaxed. The older man seemed held together purely by stress and logic, never without a collared shirt and tie, and he would definitely never be seen in the plain white v-neck this guy was wearing really well.

“So, you’re Logan’s brother?” Where the hell was this courage coming from?!

“Yup. You know him?”

“About as well as I know any of my neighbors. So, barely. But he’s close with my roommate.”

The man’s expression turned to glee as he shifted the dog in his arms. She seemed unhappy being held when there were birds to be chased, but her struggle was lazy. “Patton, right? I’ve heard a lot about him.”

“Oh?”

He hummed happily, fiddling with Gremmy’s collar. “It’s about time Logan found someone who makes him happy. We never really understood each other when it comes to interacting with other people. He’s more secluded nerd, and I’m more…” He trailed off, waving his fingers under the dog cluelessly.

“More theatre nerd?” Virgil guessed, pleased with the way the man’s eyebrows flew up.

“How’d you guess that?”

“You’ve been singing a different Hamilton song every time you’ve taken the dog out.”

Instead of looking embarrassed or upset like Virgil would definitely be in his situation, he seemed to puff up more, almost delighted.

“Ah, I thought I had an audience! That was you?”

Virgil could feel his face turning beet red, much to his chagrin. This was it, this was the moment he died. Let the earth open up and swallow him whole, his little pride had been too wounded to continue. The man took his silence as answer enough, seemingly pleased with the reaction.

“I’m Roman,” The man grinned, holding out his hand. He took it hesitantly, the touch sending a shock up his spine that he was barely able to suppress.

“Virgil.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Virgil.”

He couldn’t help the authentic smile that tugged on his lips as they shook hands, Gremmy dangling from Roman’s other arm like a football.

“You too, Roman.”

#lywrites #sanderssides #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #hamilton #sanderssidesfanfiction

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august-anon · 4 years

Text

Let’s Hang Out

Hey y’all!!! It’s Pinapple’s birthday today!! And today also marks 365 days until she rejoins us on tumblr! If y’all have any birthday wishes you wanna make sure she sees, feel free to let me know and I’ll text them to her for you! I hope you all (and she lol) enjoy this!! Also this is vaguely human AU lol

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ship(s): platonic Prinxiety

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Virgil, Ler!Roman

Word Count: 2084 words

Summary: If Roman was going to (albeit accidentally) ignore him, then Virgil was going to ignore Roman right back. He just didn't expect the consequences that followed.

[ao3 link]

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Had Virgil known what an afternoon hanging out with Roman would entail, he would’ve said no on the spot. As much progress as they had made with their friendship, Virgil was not in the mood to hear Roman belt out musical theater songs at the top of his lungs. He’d rather they just sit down and pull up a bootleg or something, but Roman was ever brimming with energy and a song in his heart or whatever the heck it was.

But that didn’t mean that after the 18th song Virgil was still going to be paying attention. He came here to hang out, not be sung aggressively at as he tried to relax in Roman’s cluttered room. Instead he lounged on Roman’s bed, far more plush than his own, having made a nest out of pillows to comfortably relax in as he scrolled aimlessly on his phone. He barely even noticed when Roman’s singing trailed off.

“Are you even paying attention?” He asked with a huff.

Virgil raised an eyebrow, not bothering to look away from the screen. “Look, I tried to keep with it, but after the 6th song when you hadn’t even said a word to me, I kinda just decided to zone out.”

Roman huffed again, flopping onto the bed and earning a glare when it jostled Virgil’s nest. “I cannot believe this! I invite you in, invite you to listen to my glorious voice, and you deign to not pay attention to me?!”

Virgil shrugged. “It was cool at first but like, I’m here to hang out.”

Roman stared. “And what is it that we were doing?”

Virgil glared back. “You ignoring me to sing.”

Roman pouted and Virgil went back to his phone, switching through apps at the speed of light because none of them captured his interest for more than a few seconds. They sat in silence for a few moments before Roman crawled closer to the edge of Virgil’s nest.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to ignore you.”

Virgil hummed, scrolling.

“Can you ever forgive me, oh dearest Stormcloud?”

Virgil scrolled.

“Virgil. Hey. Come on, I’m talking to you!”

Virgil scrolled, though there was the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips that he was desperately trying to fight down. Roman gasped theatrically, swooning into the pillows along the edge of Virgil’s nest.

“Your revenge is swift and unforgiving, I have seen the error of my ways. Let’s do something else, now, I promise it’ll be better!”

Virgil continued to ignore him.

Roman whined, poking at Virgil’s calf where it rested near his head. “Give me attention!”

Nothing. But Roman was not to be deterred.

Roman continued poking at him, probably hoping to annoy him into stopping his new little game, but Virgil had siblings, he was a middle kid, it wouldn’t be that easy to crack him. He had trained for this his whole life. He sat there, stoic and unmoving as Roman jabbed his finger into Virgil’s leg.

Except then the jabs moved up Virgil’s knee and thigh and he barely kept it together. He took in a sharp, but quiet, breath as the finger jabbed his hip. He couldn’t stop his body’s jerk when the finger darted into his fleshy side. Roman paused.

“You good, man?”

Virgil almost, almost, opened his mouth to answer. But he was stubborn and absolutely unwilling to lose this game, so he kept his mouth glued firmly shut and opened tumblr for the umpteenth time, hoping to find an actual distraction in it this time.

Roman hummed, taking his lack of response as him being fine, and continued poking. Unfortunately, he continued poking away at Virgil’s upper body, and he couldn’t help but jerk away at every single one, having to fight harder and harder to repress his smile and hold his building giggles at bay.

Suddenly, Roman chuckled evilly. “Oh, I know what’s going on here.”

In a mad escape attempt, Virgil chucked his phone at the beanbag across the room and tried to lunge off the bed after it. His phone made it safely to his intended sanctuary, but Virgil himself was caught by arms around his waist, pulling him back to the bed. His nest was near destroyed in the following scuffle, both boys wrestling with all their might to gain the upper hand. There was one mortifying secret that Virgil was determined to keep to himself, but if Roman managed to pin him he wasn’t sure he would be able to.

And then Roman cheated by squeezing at his sides, making Virgil bark out a few startled laughs and go almost limp in Roman’s arms, and he was easily pinned to the bed. Roman straddled his hips, pinned his hands under his knees, and grinned down at him like the cat that had caught the canary.

And Virgil was certainly feeling like a canary right about now.

“Let’s talk about this,” Virgil blurted, tugging at his hands. He sucked in a breath as Roman rested his hands back on Virgil’s waist.

“Oh, now he wants to talk!” Roman said bitterly, though his bright grin contrasted with the words.

“Yup--yup, definitely want to talk! Or, uh, or you could sing again! I’d be perfectly content listening to you sing!”

Roman raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, humming thoughtfully. “Splendid idea, Virge, but I’d much rather hear you sing.”

Virgil didn’t have time to squeeze in another protest or plea as Roman’s hands immediately dug back into his sides. Virgil tossed his head back against the pillows and laughed, not bothering to hold back anymore now that one half of his secret was out.

Because see, Virgil would try his hardest to make it seem otherwise when it came up, but Virgil rather liked tickling. Giving or receiving, he found it to be rather fun, but he was loathe to admit that to any living soul. So much so that he was even using dramatic words like “loathe,” when that was more Roman’s style.

“See?” Roman said cheerfully. “We’re hanging out! I’m paying attention to you!”

“Princey!” Virgil cried out as Roman’s hands crawled up his ribs.

“Yes, Doom and Gloom? Though you’re rather the opposite right now, I suppose. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh so much!”

“Please!”

Roman’s grin sharpened. “Please what? Please… tickle you more? My pleasure!”

Virgil shrieked as the hands slithered up and buried themselves in his armpits. He couldn’t help the series of snorts that followed, unfortunately always triggered by being targeted in that sensitive spot. He felt his face go red.

Roman laughed above him. “Oh my gosh, that’s adorable. Do you have any other fun sounds?”

“No!” Virgil lied. Well, he wasn’t sure if it was a lie. He certainly didn’t get tickled often enough to remember, he just could never forget those embarrassing snorts, hard as he tried.

“Methinks the emo doth protest too much!”

Roman switched from wiggling fingers to scratching nails in the center of his hollows and Virgil’s thrashing renewed, snorts that had somewhat died down returning with a vengeance. Virgil shook his head and tugged on his arms, using what little slack he had to pin them to his sides as tightly as possible.

“Alright, alright,” Roman chuckled. “I’ll move on.”

Virgil prepared for the worst, assuming that “moving on” meant going for the next most obvious spot: his stomach, the worst of them, but to his surprise, the torturing hands did not appear on his belly. No, they appeared on his thighs, squeezing and digging into the muscle without abandon. Virgil launched up into a sitting position, nearly crashing his head into Roman’s collarbone, letting out a startled cackle.

“Ooh, good spot?” Roman asked cheekily, as if Virgil would actually answer.

Just to be contrary, he did. “No!”

Roman’s tickling faltered as he laughed again, but quickly resumed. “If this isn’t a good spot, I fear for you when I do find one!”

Roman continued to torment his legs, leaning back even further to squeeze at his kneecaps. Virgil kicked out and cursed through his giggles and swore to make Roman regret this, but he wasn’t exactly all that threatening when red-faced and laughing, dimples jumping around joyfully. Eventually, Roman granted him a break, and Virgil sucked in deep, greedy breaths, watching his hands warily as he collapsed back onto the bed.

“Tell you what,” Roman said. “You tell me where your worst spot is, and I promise I’ll go easy on you.”

Virgil stayed silent as he debated the pros and cons of the situation. Easy meant he was likely to get out of this sooner without revealing that he actually desperately wanted it. Easy meant tummy tickles and then freedom shortly after. Easy meant having enough energy to make good on his threats immediately.

But not giving up the information meant Virgil would get what he’d wanted for a while, now: to be well and truly wrecked.

“Taking a while to answer there, Wiggles and Giggles,” Roman said, a smirk slowly spreading across his face. “Could it be… you don’t want me to go easy on you?”

Virgil was too caught off guard to lie convincingly. “What?! No! What? You’re insane.”

Roman didn’t miss a beat. “Tell me your worst spot and I will go after it immediately and absolutely not go easy on you.”

Virgil hesitated. “You don’t think it’s weird?” He asked quietly.

“Weird?! Of course not! This may just be the cutest thing in the world!”

Virgil’s mouth twisted as he blushed and looked away, but he relented. “Stomach.”

Roman’s hands were immediately pushing up his shirt, rubbing against his stomach. “Aww, someone has a ticklish little tummy?”

Virgil squirmed. “Shut up.”

Roman grinned. “Why, does it make it worse?”

“Shut up!”

Roman shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Then he took a huge breath, attached his lips to Virgil’s stomach, and blew. The raspberry echoed through the room, but was quickly drowned out by the sound of Virgil’s screaming cackles. He thrashed so hard that he finally got his arms free, clutching desperately at Roman’s shoulders as another strong raspberry was placed on his belly.

“Roman!” He practically screamed at the third.

“What?” Roman asked. “I thought you wanted me to shut up!”

“Plea--” His cry was cut off by a new wave of laughter as a fourth and final raspberry vibrated through his stomach.

Roman wasn’t finished, though, clearly, as his hands came up to knead at the sensitive skin. His laughter got more frantic and wheezing the closer Roman got to his belly button, and he was torn between wanting Roman to notice and wishing he never would. Apparently, though, the universe was out to embarrass Virgil as much as possible, because Roman noticed.

“What do we have here? A little button demanding to be pressed?”

“No!!” Virgil said, you know, like a liar.

“I think that’s a fake no,” Roman said, “so I think I’ll press this button.”

Virgil did scream when Roman’s finger dug into the little divot. It wiggled and scratched and vibrated into the horribly sensitive place until Virgil thought he would go absolutely mad with how badly it tickled. As much fun as he was having, though, Virgil was quickly running out of stamina and breath. He slapped lightly at Roman’s shoulder.

Roman understood, pulling back immediately and rolling off Virgil. Virgil curled in on himself, still laughing for long minutes after the tickling actually stopped. When he’d finally calmed down, Virgil sat up and ran a hand through his destroyed hair, surveying the mess they had made of the bed.

“You have to help me rebuild the nest.”

Roman laughed. “I would love nothing more. Wanna watch movies on my laptop, after?”

Virgil shrugged, only half listening, fully focused on recreating his perfect pillow nest and napping through the rest of the afternoon. “Sure.”

Roman started gathering the pillows that had been kicked to the floor. “Look at us! Bonding, learning new things about each other, building nests because one of us is a weird bird-cat hybrid… Quite a successful hang-out if I do say so myself!”

Virgil chucked a pillow at his head with a grin.

The nest was reconstructed in record time and Virgil immediately burrowed into it with three newly stolen blankets, watching from his cocoon as Roman pulled up Disney Plus on his laptop and clicked play on the first thing to show up. They were both asleep within minutes.

Quite the successful hang-out indeed.

#tickle fic #My writing #sanders sides tickling #lee!virgil #ler!roman #ticklish!virgil #sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #prinxiety #platonic prinxiety

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jamaisjoons · 5 years

Text

intro: her V ⤑ knj | m

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 you enter namjoon’s life in the most unexpected of ways, but will you be able to stay, especially when he comes with three adorable but chaotic children, even more chaotic best friends and a bitch of an ex-wife? not to mention your own emotional baggage. 〞singe dad au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: single dad!namjoon x marine vet!reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: fluff

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 7.5k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: mentions of blood, more tooth-rotting fluff, some insane sexual tension, reader and joon pining over each other

➵ 𝚊 /𝚗: someone yell at me to make them bone already, please

⏤ Rewritten as of 26/02/2020

⇥ Previous || Masterlist || Next

Chapter 5: Sick Day Sunday

On Sunday, you’re awoken in a similar way you were the day before. Alarm blaring under your ear, barely muffled by your pillow, you immediately sit up before checking the clock, eyes bleary as you read the time. ‘5:08am’ it reads and you groan, wondering who the hell was rude enough to wake you up at such an ungodly hour with a phone call of all things. You pull your phone out from under your pillow, sitting up more alert when Namjoon’s name flashes across the screen. Quickly, you slide the call button, pressing your phone to your ear. Worry fills your being, stomach churning. Namjoon wouldn’t call so early unless it was urgent.

“Namjoon? Is everything okay?” you ask, voice still rough from sleep.

“___! Shit, I’m so sorry for waking you up like this but I’ve got a problem,” Namjoon starts, his voice panicked. Your back straightens, Rap Mon whining as he jumps on the bed. However, you ignore him, your heart racing at Namjoon’s frantic tone.

“What’s wrong?” you quickly ask.

“I- The boys are sick, they’ve all got a mild fever but Jimin is throwing up... I tried calling the paediatrician but they didn’t pick up because it so early on Sunday and none of the hyungs are answering their phone,” Namjoon’ replies. You immediately jump out of bed, running into the bathroom as you put Namjoon on speakerphone.

“How high is his fever?” you ask, mouth slightly muffled by the toothpaste foam as you begin brushing your teeth.

“It was 103 the last time I checked,” Namjoon says and you can hear the nervousness in his voice. Anything under 104 wasn’t a cause for major concern, but considering how close it was to that threshold, mixed with Jimin’s vomiting, has you worried.

“You need to take him to the hospital. If his fever is that high and he’s vomiting you definitely need to take him there. Text me the hospital and I’ll meet you,” you say, hanging up before Namjoon could object. You hastily finish your morning routine, not wanting to waste any time. One child being sick was already a cause for concern, but three all at once? Especially with Namjoon by himself? You couldn’t imagine that he was doing well at all, at least not from the panic in his voice.

Getting ready quicker than you ever had, you grabbed Rap Mon’s harness and lead before heading out. Inputting the address of the hospital into your phone, you quickly get into your car, practically speeding in your rush. Half an hour later, you manage to get there, parking your car in a hurry. You roll the window down slightly, turning the air conditioning on so Rap Mon doesn’t overheat. Then, practically running, you rush into the hospital’s waiting room, the people looking at your frantic state in bewilderment. However, you don’t care, and instead, you begin looking around for Namjoon and the boys. You don’t spot him immediately, causing you to run through the hospital, narrowly avoiding the nurses who send you dirty looks.

Eventually, you manage to find Namjoon. You skid to a halt, taking in his appearance. He’s slightly hunched over, his shoulders tense, Taehyung and Jungkook sit on his right, cuddling into each other as Jimin is seated on Namjoon’s lap, his father fussing over him. You quickly walked up to him, Namjoon’s head snapping up. You smile softly, Namjoon returning his own harrowed smile while you bend down. Gently, you run your hands through Jimin’s hair before pushing it out of his head, feeling his forehead with the back of your hand.

“How is he? What did they say?” you ask, taking a seat on Namjoon’s left. Jungkook shifts at your voice, opening his eyes slowly. He sits up straighter when he notices your arrival. Hopping off the seat, Taehyung flopping into Namjoon’s side bonelessly, Jungkook walks over to you. He rubs his eyes sleepily before making a grabbing motion for you. Without thinking, you pick Jungkook up, allowing him to crawl into your lap. Instinctively, your arms wrap around Jungkook, letting him snuggle into you.

“We only got here twenty minutes ago. They haven’t taken him in yet. They told me to fill in the paperwork and take a seat. We were just waiting for the paediatrician, he’s in with another child right now,” Namjoon says and you nod. He lets out a slightly disgruntled sigh, running his hand through his hair. Your eyes flick to his head: his hair is completely mussed up, stray hairs sticking up in random positions. He looks tenser than you’ve ever seen him - with dark bags under his eyes. You reach over, taking his hand in yours and squeezing, offering him as much comfort as you could. Namjoon turns to you, looking at you with his dark eyes.

“It’s going to be okay. If they didn’t take him in immediately, it can’t be that much of an emergency. Jimin will be alright,” you reassure with a smile. Namjoon’s shoulders slump instantly and he nods, lacing your fingers with his. He shifts, leaning his body into you before collapsing completely, head rested against your shoulder. You bite your lip before resting your own head against his. Namjoon closes his eyes, basking in your comforting presence, letting both your words and presence wash over him and ease his worries.

The both of you sit in silence for long, drawn-out moments, Namjoon resting against you and your hands held together as Jungkook’s light snores fill the room. For most of it, Taehyung is completely still, lost in his deep sleep, feet kicking every now and then. Jimin however, tosses and turns in his father’s arm, whining in his sleep, undoubtedly uncomfortable from his fever and Namjoon’s body heat. Namjoon doesn’t mind so much, content to allow Jimin to move around as he leans against you. So, instead, you reach over gently, unbuttoning a couple of buttons on Jimin’s shirt to cool him down slightly. Jimin stills, returning back to his sleep.

You return back to your position, Namjoon mumbling a few words and squeezing your hand in thanks - most likely too tired to move. He isn’t dressed in his casual clothes and you wonder if he’d been up writing lyrics or producing music before he had to rush over to the hospital. If he had, he’d probably be even more exhausted. However, rather than pitying him, you only find a newfound respect for Namjoon. He somehow managed to keep up with a busy schedule while still caring for his three sons to the best of his ability - all at a young age of twenty-four. Suddenly, it makes sense why he’s so wise beyond his ears: he had to grow up quicker and more than most people your age.

A while longer, the two of you sit, Namjoon in a light sleep. You flick through your phone, scrolling aimlessly through Tumblr. A fansite photo of Namjoon pops up and you reblog automatically before freezing. Slowly your mind realises that you’re sitting next to Namjoon. You chuckle lightly to yourself at the absurdity of it, wondering what the fansite or any of his fans would do if they could see him right now, mouth slightly open and almost drooling. It was wholly different, a complete one-eighty from his cool and sexy stage persona.

Fifteen minutes later, a short, middle-aged nurse finally walks over to you both. You sit up straighter, gently nudging Namjoon awake. He quickly straightens up, rubbing the drool from his lips before turning to the nurse hopefully.

“Hello! Sorry for the wait. The doctor can see you now. One parent or guardian needs to accompany him. Do you or your wife want to take him in?” She asks, smiling kindly at both of you, looking through what you assume were Jimin’s health records. You blush at her words, shaking your head frantically.

Hastily, “I’m not his wife!” you interject. The nurse looks slightly taken back by your sudden outburst. She looks between the two of you and you realise exactly what the scene looks like. With the three boys and the way Namjoon was just resting against you, your hands still held together, you undoubtedly look like a family. Your blush intensifies as you stutter trying to explain the situation.

“Oh! I’m sorry, I just assumed,” she apologises, her eyes twinkling at the two of you. There’s a knowing smile on her face and you sigh, already knowing exactly what was running through her head.

“I’ll come with. Can you stay with Jungkook and Taehyung?” Namjoon asks and you nod, letting go of his hand. Namjoon stands, shifting Jimin in his arms so his legs were around his waist. Then, the two walk away and into one of the private rooms. Taehyung gets up at Namjoon’s sudden movement, looking around sleepily.

“Noona? When did you come here?” Taehyung asks and you smile at him, patting the seat next to you.

With a soft voice, you address him, “hi Taehyungie, just a little while back.” Taehyung shifts closer to you before looking around, face scrunched up in confusion.

“Where are daddy and Jiminie?”

“They’ve gone into that room with a nice nurse to see what’s wrong with Jimin,” you reply and he nods, lying down on the seat before placing his head in your lap. Automatically, you shift Jungkook’s leg, making more space on your thigh for Taehyung’s head.

“Jiminie was throwing up. Daddy was very worried. Is Jiminie going to be okay?” Taehyung asks as you pet his hair, playing with the long, soft locks.

“Jimin’s going to be fine Tae. He’s just a bit more unwell than you and Kookie. Are you okay? Do you feel sick?” you ask and Taehyung shakes his head, curling up further into the seat and nuzzling his head into your lap.

“My head hurts.”

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

Taehyung nods, already falling back asleep. Soothingly, you run your fingers through his hair, adjusting it so that it’s not all over the place, watching as Taehyung slowly falls back asleep. He’s somewhere between awake and asleep when he lets out a sneeze and you almost jump from how loud it is. You gawk at him, wondering how someone so small could make such a loud sound - but Taehyung pays no attention to you as he drifts back to sleep.

Namjoon and Jimin are only in the room for another half an hour before they both exit. Namjoon looks relieved and the tension has finally disappeared from his shoulders. Jimin is awake and pouting, his chubby cheeks stained red and head rested on Namjoon’s shoulder, almost as if he was trying to hide. You sit up straighter, smiling at them as Namjoon walks towards you.

“You can pick up the antibiotics from the hospital’s pharmacy. Here are the bills. You can pay them at reception,” The nurse says, handing Namjoon some papers.

“Thank you for your help,” Namjoon replies, bowing.

“What did they say? Is he okay?” You ask, Namjoon nodding with a smile.

“He’s got gastroenteritis. It’s common in children apparently and the reason he was vomiting,” Namjoon says and you nod, looking sympathetically at Jimin.

“What about the fever?” you ask and Namjoon sighs.

“Bacterial infection. They’ve given antibiotics for it though,” Namjoon says, showing you the prescription.

“Wouldn’t that need a lab test?” you ask curiously and Namjoon rubs his face.

“Yeah, they took a…” Namjoon begins, then lowering his voice, “faecal sample,” he whispers lowly. You watch Jimin’s cheeks heat further, the apples of his cheeks a bright rosy hue. “It’s why he’s not happy. Didn’t like being woken up and having someone else take his… you know,” Namjoon says quietly. Jimin sniffles slightly, before he buries his face further into Namjoon’s shoulder at his father’s words. Well, that explains why he’s hiding in Namjoon’s shoulder.

“They got the lab results alright? That was quick?” you say, watching as Namjoon picks Taehyung up, carrying them both in one arm each. You pick Jungkook up, careful not to wake him up as you both walked towards reception.

“They said it’d take a while but I didn’t want to wait. I paid to have it expedited,” Namjoon says, greeting the receptionist before showing her the paperwork. Your eyebrows shoot into your hairline at the bill, watching Namjoon pay it off as if it were nothing. Then again, you think, it probably is nothing to him. He’s more than rich enough to afford it, especially if it meant Jimin would get treated faster. After a small stop to the in-hospital pharmacy, the two of you finally exit the hospital.

“Do we need to keep Jimin away from Jungkook and Taehyung? In case the infection spreads or something?” you ask as the both of you walking to the car park. Namjoon’s eyes widen slightly at your use of ‘we’, but once again, you’ve barely even noticed you’ve said it.

“According to the nurse and doctor, they’ve already been exposed to it. We just need to be careful, make sure they don’t share spoons or things like that. Other than that, they should be fine,” Namjoon says and you nod. You didn’t really want to think about how lonely Jimin would be if you couldn’t be around his brothers, especially Taehyung. The two were so attached, never being apart from each other due to being twins.

“I brought my car. I can drive you home,” you say, leading Namjoon to your car, Monie sitting up and barking as he spots you both approaching, his tail wagging. You calm Rap Mon down, putting all three boys in the back before buckling them up, Monie lays across the floor, his head rested on the seat between Jungkook and Taehyung as he whines at the three boys.

“Rap Mon! Don’t wake them up,” you reprimand quietly, your voice stern. Monie’s head bows down as he turns to you, with his best puppy dog face.

“No! Don’t give me that look, Mister,” you continue. At the firmness in your voice, Monie turns back, laying his head on the seat once again but no longer whining. Namjoon chuckles, reaching back and petting Monie. He turns back, smiling at you. Returning his smile, you start the engine; driving out of the hospital and towards Namjoon’s home.

By the time you pull into Namjoon’s drive, it’s already 8am. You kill the engine, turning to him before your eyes soften. He’s fast asleep, slight snores escaping his nose. You turn to the back, checking on the boys. They’re all fast asleep too, Monie’s head laying in Taehyung’s lap as he watches him. Turning back to Namjoon, you take him in. His head is leaning against the window, the sun shining on him through the glass, encasing him in a halo. You lean your head against your seat, taking the chance to watch him unhindered. His lips are slightly spread and you can almost see his teeth. Involuntarily, a smile creeps on your face. He looks so soft that before you even realise what you’re doing, your hand is reaching out, brushing some of his hair from his forehead.

Namjoon’s eyes slowly open at the light touch and you freeze as he catches you pulling away. You both stare at each other, eyes unwavering. Instantly, you try to pull back but Namjoon grabs your hand, and abruptly pulls your body into his. Your eyes widen as you’re thrust forward, Namjoon arms wrapping around your body as he holds you close to him. He places his face in the crook of your neck and shoulder. The scent of sandalwood and vanilla fills your senses, and despite yourself, you find yourself leaning further into him, your arms wrapping around him, hands fisting into his shirt.

“Thank you,” Namjoon whispers, his voice low.

“For what?” you ask - internally cheering at how stable your voice is.

“For being there. For picking up my call 5am even when the hyungs didn’t. For coming to the hospital so early. For taking care of the boys. For worrying about them - even though they’re not your children. Just… thank you... for everything,” Namjoon blurts out, voice heavy with emotion. Your grip on him tightens.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ll be here. For them and you. For as long as you want me to be here,” you reply with a voice quiet. Namjoon pulls you in tighter, squeezing you against him. The two of you sit together for a little while, breaking up only when the boys begin stirring. The two of you let go of each other, smiling at one and other softly, despite the light blush on both your faces.

“Daddy? I’m hungyee,” Jungkook says, rubbing his eyes. You grin, laughing at his inability to pronounce the ‘r’ sound.

“Alright Nochu, let’s go,” Namjoon says, Jungkook grinning. You slowly wake Jimin and Taehyung up, grabbing their hands and following Namjoon and Jungkook into their home. Monie follows you both happily, already running into the house with Jungkook.

“Do you want to stay for breakfast?” Namjoon asks and you nod, smiling gently at him.

“I could do with some food. What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know if I have any food in the fridge. I don’t really cook. Most of the time we just eat out or with Seokjin-hyung. I was thinking we could just order something,” Namjoon replies. You bend over, the back of your hand pressed against Jungkook’s forehead before moving to Taehyung. With a frown, you shake your head at Namjoon.

“Whatever you order would probably be too harsh for them. Kook and Tae are still running warm and Jimin needs something mild or he may throw it up. How about this: we can go to the supermarket and get some ingredients and then cook? We can make some dakjuk for the boys, it’ll be gentle enough for Jimin’s stomach and all three can eat it. I can even make some extra for later on. And you and I can have omelettes, rice and tofu?” you suggest, Namjoon looking at you in awe.

“That… sounds good... yeah. Give me a bit to shower and change. I feel like I’ve been in these clothes way too long,” Namjoon says and you grin at him.

“How about this then? I’ll go and get ingredients by myself. Then you can shower and I’ll be back once you’re done,” you offer, Namjoon quickly shaking his head.

“No! I can’t ask you to do that, you’ve already done so much,” Namjoon refutes but you’re already grabbing your keys.

“It’s alright! Besides, I don’t think the boys will want to leave now anyway. Watch Monie for me and enjoy your shower,” you call, already leaving the house. Monie tries to follow you but you shake your head, making him whine. However, Taehyung call his name and Rap Mon immediately forgets about you, turning and leaving you alone. You watch, mouth agape as your dog ignores you. Dejected sigh escaping your mouth, you’re unsure if you should find the sight adorable or be upset that your dog likes Namjoon’s children more than you. You wave at Namjoon, exiting the house and getting into your car once again.

Forty-five minutes later, you’re back at Namjoon’s house, ringing his doorbell. You juggle the bags of groceries in your arms as you wait for Namjoon to open the door. However, you don’t have to wait long, because a couple of moments later, he answers. At the sight of him, your eyes widen, your jaw almost dropping to the floor. His hair is wet, droplets running down his thick, tan neck and along his collarbone before disappearing under his shirt. He’s dressed casually: in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, the latter of which is slightly damn and sticking towards his torso. Your mouth practically runs dry and instantly, you lose all your train of thoughts.

“Here let me help you,” Namjoon says, smiling as he takes the groceries out of your arms, his dimples deepening. He turns to walk towards the kitchen and your throat runs dry at the fullness of his thighs and ass in his sweats. You swallow thickly, trying to lubricate your throat before closing your eyes and breathing deeply in an attempt to collect yourself. You can’t just stand here, drooling over Namjoon, while his kids are sick. That’s absolutely not okay. And yet here you are, imagining what it’d be like to run your hands along his torso, or how his thighs would feel between yours.

“____?” Namjoon calls out and you immediately kick back into gear, smacking your cheeks and reprimanding yourself for your inappropriate thoughts.

Swiftly, you follow him, finding the kitchen easily. Your mind flashes back to the first time you had visited Namjoon’s house, the place feeling like a maze. But now, six months after meeting him and many visits to his house later, you could navigate his house almost as if it were your own. You step into the kitchen, Namjoon already grabbing pots and pans out of various cupboards. He turns to you, hands out as he gestures towards all the equipment, an adorable smile on his face. You break out in a grin before joining him, pulling the groceries out of the bag.

“So, what do you want me to do?” Namjoon asks curiously, watch you fill a large saucepan with water, putting it to the boil before you begin prepping chicken.

“Cut some onions for me?” you ask and Namjoon nods. You return to your task, finishing the chicken before beginning to chop some ginger and garlic. Needing the onions, you turn back to Namjoon. Instead, however, you’re left reeling in shock. He’s holding the knife upside down, barely managing to slice them. The one he has sliced is asymmetrical and practically smushed. Struggling to cut the onion, Namjoon puts his hand on the blade of the knife, pressing down.

“Namjoon no!” you call - but the damage is already done. Namjoon cuts his hand with a hiss and immediately, you rush towards him. “Namjoon! What is wrong with you?” you admonish, grabbing his hand and quickly running it under cold water.

“I was cutting the onions! You told me to cut the onions,” Namjoon gripes. You tut at him, grabbing a clean towel before wrapping it around his hand.

“Yes, but why were you holding the knife upside down?” you practically yell. Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook walk into the kitchen, Rap Mon following them.

“Daddy!” The boys call out, running to him, tearing up at the sight of his blood.

“Daddy are you okay?” Jimin cries and you quickly usher them out of the kitchen.

“Daddy is going to be okay, I’m going to look after him. But I need you to be good boys and sit here with Monie okay?” you say, the boys nodding as they sniffle.

“Noona please save daddy. You’re a doctor yes?” Jungkook snivels and your heart lurches at the clear distress in his voice before you bend down to his height.

“It’s okay Kookie. It’s just a small cut, nothing is going to happen alright?” you reassure and Jungkook nods, Monie nuzzling into him out of comfort. Once the boys are settled down, you run back into the kitchen; Namjoon now seated on the chair as he applies pressure to his wound. You unwrap the towel from his hand, wincing at the cut. It’s deeper than you thought it would be.

“Do you have a first aid kit? I think you need stitches but I take it you don’t want to go back to the hospital?” you ask, Namjoon nodding.

“It’s in that cabinet,” he points out and you quickly walk over, finding the small toolkit of bandages, disinfectants and cotton buds. You wrap the towel around his hand again and order him to put pressure on the wound once again.

“Okay, I’m going to need sutures and a needle. Luckily, I keep a more fully stocked med kit in my car. Give me a couple of minutes, I’ll be right back” you call as you run out, smiling at the boys to reassure them when you pass them. A couple of moments later, you return with your first aid kit. You grab a bowl from a drawer, filling it with warm water before adding some disinfectant after washing your hands with the antibacterial soap you keep in your kit. Unwrapping the towel from his hand once again, you throw it onto the counter.

“Why do you just keep a medkit in your car?” Namjoon asks, curiosity winning over as he watches you dip a cotton pad into the disinfected water, slowly cleaning off his would. He winces slightly, almost pulling his hand away at the stinging sensation of the medicated water.

“Did you forget I was a veterinarian or?” you ask, glancing up at him through your eyelashes before returning to treating his wound.

“Oh… yeah, I forgot. I just associate you with working at the aquarium,” Namjoon replies, shrugging and almost jogging you. You snort, putting down the cotton pad before grabbing an antiseptic ointment from the first aid kit.

“Yeah, I work at the aquarium. Where I look after the fish and treat any of the mammals if they’re hurt,” you emphasise.

“But does that mean you can treat humans?” he asks, cocking his head to the side slightly, watching the way you work.

“Well… technically yes. Legally, no. I did go to med school for a year before dropping out thought. Animals were nicer and much more friendly and I enjoyed it more than med school. Then I decided to specialise in marine veterinary,” you recount, Namjoon nodding. He watches your lips purse, blowing on his wound as you slowly, but carefully disinfect it. Your hair falls into your eyes, but before you can move it, he’s already reaching out to push it behind your ears. You glance up at him again, your face slightly heated. Namjoon stares down at you, you look almost irresistible: staring up at him through your eyelashes, lips still pursed. He wants nothing more than to pull you into a kiss and taste you. He’s stopped, however, when he realises he’s once again bleeding.

“Umm… my hand,” he points out and you blink blankly before turning back to his, startled as you realise he’s bleeding once again. With a yelp of surprise, you berate yourself internally. Here he is bleeding, and instead of treating him, you’re busy thinking about his lips. Shame on you. You grab another piece of cotton, dipping it in the disinfected water and cleaning the leaking blood once again.

“Okay, I’m going to stitch you up now. It’s probably going to sting. Do you need to hold something?” you ask, opening a brand new sterilised needle before threading the suture through it.

“I’ll be fine. I’m a grown man,” Namjoon says coolly and you snort as his casual tone before shrugging.

“Your loss.”

You take a deep breath, steadying your hands before pressing the needle into his skin. Namjoon abruptly yelps, jerking his hand away. Luckily, your reflexes are quick enough that you pull the needle away before it can impale him.

“Namjoon! Be careful, I don’t want to hurt you more than you’ve hurt yourself,” you reprimand, grabbing his hand once again.

“Sorry, it hurt more than I thought it would,” Namjoon says sheepishly and you roll your eyes.

“Of course, it will. It’s a fresh wound and I’m stitching it up. Now, do you want something to squeeze?” you ask once again but Namjoon refutes your offer. You tut at him, this time grabbing his hand and holding tightly.

Once again, you press the needle into his skin. Namjoon winces, his other hand immediately shooting out and gripping your thigh. You freeze, staring at the way his hand is splayed across you, fingertips digging into your flesh. Namjoon jerks away, realising what he’s done but you shake him off.

“If you need to squeeze my thigh while I do this, then do it,” you mumble under your breath, “whatever you do, just stay still,” you continue. Namjoon nods, his hand moving back to its spot on your thigh. Once again, you begin threading the suture through his cut, Namjoon wincing and tightening his grip every now and then. You won’t admit it out loud, but you’re glad his hand is on your thigh - it keeps you somewhat grounded; your heart pounding as you slowly stitch him up. He’s entirely too close and you want to drown in his intoxicating scent but you need to focus, lest you botch up his stitches.

Namjoon watches you work; unable to take his eyes off of you. You slowly lose yourself in your treatment of him. His eyes rake over your figure, from your hair all the way down to your hands. Somehow your shoulders are tense but your hands are completely relaxed as you expertly stitch him up. Right this instant, as you sew up his wound, he thinks you’re the most alluring thing he’s ever seen. You’ve lost yourself into your work and he’s slowly losing himself into you. His eyes flick to where his hands are perched on your thigh, gulping slightly at the soft flesh under his skin. The pain has long since faded from his mind, too focused on the way you feel under his hand and the way you look as you work.

Minutes pass agonisingly slowly as you work carefully, and eventually, you’re finally done. You knot the thread before clipping it, placing your needle down and letting out an exhale of relief. Namjoon watches the tension in your shoulders slowly escape. You turn over and grab the sterilised bandages, wrapping his hand up, making sure the wound is sufficiently covered. A couple of moments pass and you’re finally done.

“There you go! You’ll have to remove the bandage in a couple of days and clean it again to prevent infection but hopefully, it will have healed some more by then. It may be a bit uncomfortable to use that hand though. You’re lucky it wasn’t your dominant hand,” you say, tidying up the medical kit.

“Thanks. You really… are a doctor,” Namjoon says dumbly and you look at him before laughing.

“Yeah, that’s what I am. Also, never use a knife like that again. Better yet, why don’t you go sit with the boys and I’ll finish up breakfast,” you suggest, ushering him out the kitchen. Namjoon protests but you simply glare at him, pointing at the living room.

“Go! You’re already hurt and it’ll be quicker if I finish up by myself. Besides, the boys were worried about you,” you say, urging him out. Namjoon finally relents and you turn back to the counter. You put the towel for wash before throwing the needle and cotton out. Once you’ve washed your hands, you get back to work, starting on breakfast again.

An hour later, you’re finally done. You grab the pot of dakjuk for the boys, placing it on the dining table before returning and grabbing the rice and additional banchan dishes you had whipped up for you and Namjoon. You have Namjoon set the table, the boys and Monie following him around. Namjoon almost walks into Taehyung, apologising profusely as his son just shrugs him off, more than excited at the prospect of finally having some food. Rap Mon whines before you place a bowl filled with plain boiled chicken down for him, Monie yapping before eagerly eating his breakfast.

“Alright boys, breakfast is ready,” you call, serving the boys. Jungkook bounces in his seat as you pour him some of the rice porridge. Taehyung grinning as you place his own bowl in front of him before doing the same for Jimin. Taehyung and Jungkook immediately grab their spoons before tucking in. You smile at both of them, Namjoon smiling at you. Meanwhile, unnoticed by you, Jimin looks at the dakjuk, looking at you and then back at the dakjuk before he lets out a small smile, a blush on his face.

“How is it?” you ask and Jungkook immediately grins, his baby teeth on display.

“It’s good! Even better than Jin-hyung’s,” Jungkook praises and you grin at him.

“Shh! Don’t tell Seokjin that,” you whisper in jest - as if Seokjin could hear you. Jungkook nods sagely before he returns to his meal.

“Thank you for helping daddy,” Jimin says politely and your face crumples at his manners. Jimin’s far too soft and far too polite for his age, completely different from some of the ruder children you’d seen running about at the aquarium. He’s the perfect child: the son parents could only ever dream off. Even Jungkook and Taehyung are polite; though not as polite as Jimin and definitely not as subdued. Still, it’s a true testament to Namjoon’s parenting skills.

“Anytime puppy,” you say, reaching over and ruffling his hair. Jimin blushes at your nickname before melting into your touch. Namjoon’s throat closes up, feeling more than moved at the touching scene. He can’t help but feel as if you’re a family right now. Despite them not being your children or having no real connection to them, you played the role of a mother so effortlessly and without a second thought.

A small part of him wonders what his life could have been if he had met you all those years ago in high school instead of Jihee. How different could his life have been? Would he have fallen in love with you? He imagined what his life would be like if you were his children’s biological mother instead. Would you have stayed? Or would you have, like Jihee, changed? Looking at the way you interact with his children, he doesn’t think you would. You have a natural, soothing charm to you. Not to mention, you love his children - more than their biological mother ever had. That, in itself, made him fall even deeper for you.

The five of you spend the next hour having breakfast. Jimin is quiet for the most of it and you worry that he still feels sick or that he’s going to throw up, so you keep an eye on him. Taehyung and Jungkook, for the most of it, seem like they’re better. After breakfast, the five of you move to the living room, the boys wanting to watch a film. You and Namjoon take a seat on the sofa, Jimin sitting between the two of you, Jungkook on your other side and Taehyung on Namjoon’s side. Rap Mon jumps onto the sofa, sitting beside Jungkook, the latter leaning into your puppy's body.

“Is he allowed on the sofa?” you ask, not wanting to be impolite, but Namjoon only shrugs at your question.

“Yeah, I don’t mind. I think the boys like cuddling him too much for me to stop him being on the sofa anyway,” Namjoon says, nodding towards Jungkook and Monie. Rap Mon’s head is in Jungkook’s lap, Jungkook absentmindedly playing with his fur - entangling your pup’s long hair between his little fingers. You giggle at the scene and throw an arm around Jungkook, letting him lean into your side.

“Can we watch One Piece daddy?” Jimin asks and Namjoon nods; he reaches for the remote and turns the TV on before playing the anime. Suddenly, you understand Jimin’s obsession with pirates. The five of you spend most of your morning watching a mix of One Piece, Pokémon and YuGiOh. It’s almost 2pm when Namjoon gets a call. When he answers it, you can hear frantic yelling from the other side, Namjoon sitting up stiffly.

“Interview with Mnet… That’s today? I completely forgot! I don’t think I can make it. My kids are sick. I really don’t think I can come,” Namjoon says, eyes flicking to you and the boys, “can we reschedule?...” he asks hopefully and you watch as he deflates, frowning slightly, “We can’t? Fu- damn,” Namjoon says, quickly catching himself, “I think we’re just going to have to cancel. Yes, I know it’s a big deal but there’s nothing else I can do…” Namjoon says disappointedly.

Hesitantly, “Namjoon?” you intervene.

“Sorry, can you hold on,” Namjoon says to the person on the phone before turning to you.

“If you need to be somewhere, you can go. I can stay and watch the boys,” you offer and Namjoon looks at you hopefully before shaking his head.

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering. Seriously, go. If it’s really important and you can’t reschedule then it’s better to just go rather than cancelling. Your new album is going to be released soon right? You can’t turn down Mnet right now. Just go, seriously. I’ll be fine,” you say and Namjoon hesitates for one minute before nodding.

“Hey, yeah sorry. Plans have changed, I can make it today. I’ll be there in an hour,” Namjoon says to the person on the other side of the phone before hanging up.

“Thank you so much! This was an important thing but with them suddenly falling sick, I completely forgot,” Namjoon says and you shake him off.

“I get it! You’re just lucky I was here,” you tease but Namjoon’s face straightens out into one of complete seriousness.

“I am. Thank you,” he replies, causing you to flush.

“Don’t you need to go get ready?” you ask, trying to change the subject.

“Oh! Yeah I do!” Namjoon says before he runs out the living room and up the stairs towards his room. Twenty minutes later, he runs back down; dressed in dark jeans and a hoodie. He enters the living room only to find the boys and Rap Mon all spread across you, practically pilling on top of you. You smile reassuringly at him, letting him know you don’t mind at all.

“Alright, boys. Daddy has to go to work. ____ will stay with you okay, please behave for her,” Namjoon says and the boys nod. He bends over and presses kisses onto each of their foreheads.

“If you need anything, anything, please call me. I’ll come back even if I have to walk out of the interview,” Namjoon says earnestly and you roll your eyes at him before smiling.

“Namjoon! We’ll be fine! If there’s a problem, I’ll call you, I promise,” you reply and Namjoon nods. Then, before he can think, he’s bending over and pressing a kiss onto your forehead.

“Thank you. I’ll see you when I get back,” he calls, running out of the living room. You stay frozen, your brain slowly processing the action. The boys giggle at you and you snap out of it, face burning as you touch your forehead, where you can still feel his lips lingering. Briefly, you wonder if he made it his mission for you to fall for him - because it’s definitely working.

It’s already dark when Namjoon returns home. He trudges through the dark house, instinctively navigating through his home. He’s completely exhausted, both from the interview and from the long day. It’s only worsened by his lack of sleep due to needing to take Jimin to the hospital earlier in the morning. Entering the living room, Namjoon frowns. You’re not there. He walks into the kitchen, a soft light emitting from it. There’s a small light on, some rice and banchan lying on one of the counters, with a note for him.

‘In case you’re hungry after a long day - xo’

He can’t help the smile that crawls across his face, his stomach churning as butterflies soar in his abdomen. You had thought of him. He can’t help but feel as if he’s come home to his wife. Namjoon shakes his head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. You aren’t even together yet and here was, thinking about marrying you. He takes the lid off of one of the dishes, trying a bit of the pork. Letting out a small moan, he relishes in the flavour. are you good at everything? Is that it? Are you some sort of perfect woman? His stomach grumbles and he can’t resist taking a seat, eating as much of the meal as he could.

Once done, he tidies up, placing the bowls in the sink before continuing his search for you and the boys again. He checks each of their rooms, frowning when he spots none of them in their respective bedrooms. Finally, he stumbles across his room. The door is slightly ajar, a dim light emanating from it. Why is his reading lamp on? He opens the door slowly, careful not to make a noise. Then, he pauses in the doorway, taking in the scene.

You’re lying on your side under the covers, Jimin curled into your stomach. Jungkook is on your other side, against your back, Taehyung curled around him. Your arm is thrown loosely around Jimin as you snore. He laughs, wondering how you hadn’t woken the boys up. He spots Taehyung’s favourite storybook resting on your hip, deducing that the four of you had fallen asleep after you read to the boys.

He pads quietly into the room, grabbing his pyjamas before entering his bathroom, stripping and changing into his sweats and a t-shirt. Throwing his clothes into the hamper, he turns to the sink, brushing his teeth. Once he’s done, he tiptoes out of the bathroom and towards his bedroom door, deciding to sleep in the guest bedroom.

“Daddy?” Jimin’s sleepy voice calls out and he winces, turning to his son. Jimin rubs his eyes before sitting up. Namjoon smiles despite the situation; Jimin’s hair is all mussed up and his cheeks are slightly swollen, his lips pulled into a pout.

“Why are you in my bed Chim?” Namjoon asks, slowly approaching his son before crouching down to eye level.

“Taehyungie wanted a story and only your bed was big enough for all of us,” Jimin replies. Namjoon hums, he had guessed, but he just needed to be sure.

“Are you going to join us, daddy?” Jimin asks, snuggling closer into you to make space for his father. Namjoon pauses, flicking his eyes towards your sleeping figure before his cheeks heat.

“I was going to sleep in the guest room,” Namjoon says and Jimin pouts, his eyes watering.

“Please daddy,” Jimin whines and Namjoon sighs, knowing he can’t refute his son. Awkwardly, he crawls into bed, Jimin cuddling into the warmth provided by both you and his father. Finding a comfortable position, Jimin falls back asleep.

Namjoon, for the most part of it, is completely stiff. Your face is entirely too close to his, your feet almost touching. His heart races at your proximity. You’re close enough for him to touch - for him to hold - just like he had wanted to for a while now. He takes in your sleeping form, unable to resist the urge to reach out and push your hair behind.

Automatically, his hand traces from your hair and down your cheek. You sigh in your sleep, nuzzling into his hand. Namjoon’s eyes soften and he slowly pulls away. His body relaxes, sinking into the bed. He takes in your features one more time before letting out a small smile. Unable to bring himself to hold you close, he settles for just watching you sleep.

He thinks back to the day; the way you had rushed to be with him at the hospital without even second-guessing yourself. The way you had looked after his sons, stitched him up and making all of your breakfasts. He remembers how you had selflessly offered to look after the boys just so he could go into work; even going so far as to prepare him a meal to come back home.

Every little thing you did made him fall deeper and deeper into you. He hadn’t thought that Jungkook meeting you would have had such a huge influence on his life but here you were, months later. Was it fate? Was he destined to lose Jungkook that day so he could meet you? He has no idea. All he knows is that he’s more than glad you’re in his life. To the point he cannot even imagine his life without you in it anymore.

Namjoon stares at you a bit longer, thoughts of you running through his mind before he finally makes a decision. Snuggling deeper into his pillow, he scooches closer to Jimin, feeling your warmth and taking in a deep breath - your scent filling his nose. He turns the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. Your breathing, mixed with his sons, fill the quiet air of the night, the soothing sound slowly lulling him to sleep. By the time he nods off, he has only one thought on his mind.

He’s going to make you his.

a/n: things are FINALLY heating up... but also I planned this story in more detail and it’s looking to be 15 chapters or more so,,,,, buckle up for a ride lads

⇥ Masterlist | Chapter 6

#hyunglinenetwork #kpopwonderlandtag #kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #btsguild #btsprotectnet #thekimlinenet #nksnet #namjoon x reader #rm x reader #bts rm x reader #bts namjoon x reader #namjoon au #namjoon fic #bts namjoon au #bts dad au #namjoon series #bts series

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tfw-needs-baby · 4 years

Text

sam winchester | internet personas

based on my own experience.

read on ao3?

Sam Winchester and his brother stumbled upon fanfiction and the fandom a while ago. He swore to himself that he would never, ever go back and visit the crazy people that existed there.

Well, sitting in his room in the bunker, he was bored and had nothing much to do because the supernatural had been pretty quiet for the past month or so and he was scrolling aimlessly through new articles and finding nothing. He doesn’t know how or why the idea popped into his head, but it came and he was curious at the time, so why not?

‘Best places to’ Nope, delete that.

‘Where to join a fandom’ Delete that too. That just sounded stupid.

‘Fandom friendly sites.’ Yeah, that sounded about right. He clicked onto the first link, and it immediately brought him to a site called ‘Fandom.’

How ironic. Although it didn’t exactly help him much, it was just an explanation guide to their platform and what it had to offer. The rest of the links weren’t much help either, and he sighed. Alright, how to find the fans...wasn’t there something called livejournal?

According to a couple of articles, old and inactive journals had been purged, but were still doing pretty well. And then, the Winchester searched up ‘best places to read fanfiction.’

A couple of suggestions appeared underneath ‘Popular on the web.’

‘Wattpad - tumblr - kindle words - deviantart - archive of our own - asianfanfics’

Huh. Visiting a couple of sites, Wattpad and Fanfiction.net and Archive Of Our Own popped up frequently, so he decided to visit Wattpad first. He went to browse works and choose fanfiction, and it brought him to a selection of hot and trendy stories with millions of views on them. Woah. It ranged from k-pop to a selection of animes to CBS shows and weird crossovers. The ‘x reader’ tag seemed very popular and he shivered, reminding him of Becky.

Signing up wasn’t hard either. It had only taken him a couple of minutes. But when he was reading a selected few from the hot section, they didn’t exactly grab his attention. A lot of them seemed to be written by younger ten to fifteen year olds. They did have a large amount of potential and amazing storylines, he’ll give them that.

Then he wandered over to Fanfiction.net. The sign up process was easy, but the site was a bit more historical and a bit more him. There were multiple forums, and he scrolled down and viewed a couple of them. Oh. They were similar to roleplay, but just - more building along a storyline with it, if that made any sense. The sign up was pretty easy here too, and he smiled as two notifications popped up in his gmail for both sites.

Backtracking now, he went off to ‘archive of our own,’ nicknamed ‘ao3’ for short and a paragraph popped up and he skimmed through it quickly. It was just a warning that everything could be viewed by whoever and whatnot. The writing here definitely seems way more advanced, way more complex and interesting, with canon divergences going all out and unheard au’s. And the cliche plots we’re simply adorable.

He went over to sign up, and raised an eyebrow when it stated that you needed to get an invitation, and all you had to do was enter in an email. And wait a day for an invitation.

Hopping onto tumblr, he made an account quickly and started scrolling through it, and everything seemed different somehow. Like, more modern day than the last time he came to the page. The fandom had definitely become smaller due to a ‘nsfw ban’ and he couldn’t decide whether that was a good or bad thing. They had gifsets of memories that had happened about three years ago, with their final stand against Chuck, and he smiled as he went through year’s old blogs that never updated anymore, reblogging everything ‘Supernatural’ underneath the username ‘babytrenchcoatnougat’ and he started to tear up when he stumbled upon a post where they had created a small art of playing the rainbow slinky with Dean based on a gifset of a memory. He still remembers how happy Dean had been when he got it just for him, he played with it for the next week.

A couple of week’s later, Sam want’s to do more than reblog and comment on content. Sam does have artistic potential, and he could definitely look into that. Although, writing seems easier at the moment, and he scrolls through an endless amount of fanfiction on archive of our own - ranging from major character death to general fanfiction - from his brother and best friend sleeping together to him turning into the boyking to high school universes to Apocalyptic worlds where they have failed.

He wants to write his own world, where they’re all happy and care-free and able to actually live happily, where no one he’s loved has died. Making a post on tumblr he states: By any chance, is there anyone on this platform that can help me with a non-romantic general Supernatural fanfiction?

He places a couple of normal tags that fit into the category, then presses post. About an hour later, he gets a reblog from someone called @ misha-moose-dean-burger-lover [and wow, that sounds like a handful] offering to help.

I’m available if you need me to, @ babytrenchcoatnougat ; what’s the plot? We can discuss more in DM’s if you’d like! Besides, I’m free for the week, but if you need a beta reader I can offer a couple of people that I know.

Sam sends her a message.

babytrenchcoatnougat: can you give me some advice or writing tips if you have any? i'm not looking to make any implied romantic pairings in the fic

misha-moose-dean-burger-lover: well, that depends, what’s the fic going to be about?

babytrenchcoatnougat: i don't know yet, maybe team free will 2.0 just taking a roadtrip to nowhere without a destination in sight after defeating chuck?

misha-moose-dean-burger-lover: eeeeee

misha-moose-dean-burger-lover: that sounds like a awesome idea misha-moose-dean-burger-lover: you're definitely going to want to have specific destinations in mind, and only a hint of angst, and what they’re going to do at these locations

misha-moose-dean-burger-lover: use transition words and make sure it doesn’t repeat often, descriptive details but don’t use it in every scene, and make sure there are frequent movements in the characters so they don’t sound so stiff, and make sure to slowly transition into the next scene, as time skipping to every scene will make the story seem boring. misha-moose-dean-burger-lover: make sure the characters aren’t ooc either!

And so, Sam writes. He writes until his eyes hurt and he definitely needs some sleep, so he sends a quick message to a beta to read it over for him and they do, gushing about how the plot was wonderful and badly needed after all the terrible angst that occurred this season. He smiles, giving his thanks before uploading the first chapter out of 15, 13k words, onto ao3.

[He checks over the grammar and tags over fifteen times.]

He can hardly contain his excitement, jumping around happily all day, even baking Dean a pie which makes him get sprayed with holy water and go through every test just to make sure he isn’t some supernatural creature.

Later that afternoon, he checks his ao3 underneath the same username and finds out it’s gotten about 150 hits, and 38 kudos, which makes his heart swell. He’s also gotten a comment, and he presses comments eagerly.

‘Kill yourself, psycho virgin fag.’

He re-reads the comment a couple of times, eyes tearing up and dropping his phone onto the kitchen table recklessly. What the fuck. Was his story really that bad? Did those people who didn’t leave a kudo really hate his story that much? Did the fans think his story was too child-like? Badly written? OOC? Do they really hate him that bad that he actually should commit-

Sam breaks down right then and there, pushing his computer aside, placing his head down and crying softly. Castiel and Dean don’t find him until an hour later, and he’s still softly crying. They rush over to him, Dean quickly sitting to the right while Castiel sits to the left. “Sammy? What happened?” Dean asks, and the younger Winchester shakes his head.

“N’thing.” He mumbles, and the older Winchester sighs. He’s just being stubborn, when he doesn’t want other people to worry about him, afraid that he’ll give them his problems. “Sam, please, if you talk to us, then we may fix the problem together. Remember, we made that promise two years ago, to be more open with each other.” The former-angel now archangel says, pushing Sam’s hair out of his face. Sam takes a shaky breath, pushing himself off the desk and grabs the laptop, opening it up to the recent fanfiction he had written, and Castiel and Dean both skim through it before Dean snatches the laptop. “Is this a fanfiction?” He looks at him as if he’s crazy, and Sam slowly shakes his head in agreement. Castiel walks over to Dean, both of them reading the first chapter silently, and everytime he glances over to see their reactions it seems unchanged. His brother probably thinks he’s weird, and Castiel is going to find him crazy-

“Damn, Sammy, you’ve got talent.” Dean says, and he actually sounds impressed. “W- what?”

“That is incredibly written and a wonderful idea, I think we should go on a roadtrip ourselves,” Dean nodded in agreement. “Is this why you’re crying? I think this is perfect.”

“Wait - you two do find it weird or anything?”

Castiel and Dean look confused. “Why would you think that Sammy? I like it.”

“You should uh - read the comment.” He says, and it takes the angel and older hunter a moment to find the comment section at the bottom, Castiel pointing at the button. Their faces turn into pure fury.

“I’m going to smite them.” Castiel all but growls out, and Dean shuts the laptop closed. “Don’t listen to ‘em, this is fucking amazing, got it? I want the second chapter. Don’t listen to what anyone else says, they're probably jealous that we’ve got a New York bestseller writer and all they can do is write the abc’s.” Dean hugs his brother, Castiel immediately joining right in and Sam sighs happily. They stay there for a bit, muttering out a ‘thank you’ before jumping up slightly, seeing that he’s gotten two more comments on his fanfiction, and nervously opens up the comment section to see that a user called ‘quicksilvermalec’ writing on how much they enjoyed the fic and can’t wait to read the second chapter while an anonymous user has attacked the one that insulted him, throwing a whole truckload of insults and Castiel smiles. “They got what they deserved.” The archangel says, and Dean shouts ‘damn straight’ joyfully. “Would the two of you want to write fanfiction with me, then?” Sam asks while writing the second chapter about an hour later, and the unison ‘yes’ gives him a warm feeling in his chest.

#sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #jack kline #archangel!castiel #ficlet #gen fic #genfic #supernatural #fluff #representation week

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grr-lee · 4 years

Text

SKZ Bang Chan (T-word fic)

Warning: This includes non-sexualized ti*kling kink/fetish. If you are uncomfortable with that, please do not read and do not send any hate to the community. I do not condone kink shaming on my page. Thank you and enjoy all you little lee’s ;)

It wasn’t until a couple weeks ago that Chan had caught onto your increasingly odd behavior. You guys were atleast two years into your relationship by now, and you had always been lovey-dovey don’t get him wrong. But it had become a different kind of skinship lately. While used to, you would sit on, or lay your head upon his lap and talk, you recently had been preferring to lay with your torso spread out across his knees, mindlessly talking or playing on your phone. And you hadn’t been bothering with tugging your shirt down like you usually do when it rides up, opting to just let the cool air, and sometimes Chris’ fingers brush against the sliver of exposed skin there.

And you would also, more often than usual, rest your feet upon Chris’ lap, completely bare, only shifting them a bit when he would run his finger across your sole teasingly, but never actually removing them. He paid more and more attention, asking himself how he never noticed the way your cheeks would redden and your body would tense up when a scene of a movie you two watched showcased a tickling scene. Or the way your body would visibly tense up when the word ‘tickle’ was even mentioned. Or the way you would immediately avoid the subject when it was brought up.

He took it upon himself to do some research after stumbling upon a small bit of your tumblr blog when you asked him to search for something on your phone. With a bit of secret scrolling through your feed and your own blog, he caught a few glimpses of your posts, tucking them away in his mind to bring back up later, when he was alone. And when he finally did do his research, both further exploring your tumblr page, as well as doing some google searches, everything slowly came into place for Chris. All of your behavior made sense to him now. And he couldn't wait to see your reaction when he tells you he knows all about your adorable little secret.

You were sitting on the couch Thursday afternoon, scrolling aimlessly through your phone when Chris walked in. Upon seeing him with his messy hair and bare face, body clad in a tank top and plaid pajama pants, you smiled at him, shutting off your phone and holding your arms out for a cuddle. He happily obliged, crawling into your arms and pulling you close to him, face nuzzled in your hair.

"What were you up to, little one?" He asked, deciding to try out one of the many nicknames he studied when going through other people's tickle blogs. He felt the smallest tense beneath him, but nothing too noticeable. He tried not to overthink it.

"Nothing much, just scrolling through the same old social media." You said, rolling your eyes like there was nothing interesting. He hummed, thinking of his next move. He wanted to approach this subtly.

"Well don't let me stop you. Carry on." He said, resting his head on your shoulder and watching you pick up your phone again, noting the slight nerves in your movements. A breathy chuckle flaring his nostrils when you hurriedly exited out of the tumblr app in hopes that he wouldn't notice the video that you were watching. The video was of a girl tied up, her face hidden from the camera as manly hands were squeezing her hips and sides, throwing the lee into visible hysterics. You were so into it that you had forgotten you were out in the open until you heard Chris' shuffling footsteps coming down the hall.

Your cheeks immediately flared up, color pouring into them like paint. You thought maybe he didn't see, maybe you were fast enough. Your mind buzzed and your senses were amplified greatly in order to detect any kind of sign confirming that Chris had noticed. But all hopes slowly emptied down the drain when you felt his grip tighten on your waist and his voice change an octave.

"Hmmm.." It was more of a deep rumble than a hum, his chest vibrating against your back. Panic arose in your chest.

"Chris I can explain." You said hurriedly, but he shushed you before you could say anything else. A pout formed on your lips, the new silence around you both becoming a little overwhelming. He refused to say anything for a few minutes, seemingly contemplating something deep within his head, eyes closed. You couldn't even read his facial expression, which made nothing better whatsoever. You were about to start profusely apologizing to him for being this way, but as you parted your lips, he finally spoke.

"I already knew." He mumbled, voice sounding content, and a little proud. It confused you. How did he know? And why hadn't he confronted you about it already? Shit. Did it make him uncomfortable? Was he gonna break up with you? Questions scattered endlessly throughout your mind, your heart mimicking a hammer against your ribcage. You struggled to find leverage in the situation.

"I think it's adorable." He chuckled lowly, cold fingers caressing your hips and sneaking under your shirt.

"It fits you, considering you were already sooo cute before." He whispers, smiling as he feels your body tense but not you pulling away. You knew what was coming, and you weren't fighting it at all. You wanted it.

"You want me to...tickle you?" He put emphasis on the word 'tickle', a puff of breath already making your ear tingle. An embarrassed whine ripped through your throat, giggles bubbling up as you hid your face in your boyfriends shoulder.

"Aww~ My baby is shy~" He grins, gently maneuvering your body until he was cradling you. You had no choice but to comply, head resting in the crook of his neck and shoulder as you refuse to make eye contact with him. He looks down at you lovingly, booping your nose with his finger as he brushes the hair away from your face.

"Now where shall I start, hmm~? Where is my baby the most ticklish?" He asks, guiding his hovering hand over the expanse of your scrunched body. You were slowly becoming a giggling mess just from his talking and the anticipation of the impact. Still, you decided to tease him.

"I'm not telling you that." You giggled, reaching out to grab his lurking hand before it could do anything. He quickly responded by taking hold of your own and giving you a look.

"Now now, baby. Don't go trying to fight this now, we both know you want it." He flashed his dimple in a knowing smile, bringing your hands back down before lifting both of his legs off the couch under you. He brought your hands to the space his legs were before and settled his thighs back down on top of them. You tried to pull your arms but found it was no use. He had them locked tight.

Which meant your entire upper body was now at his mercy. And by the look on his face, it didn't look like he was going to be too kind.

"Well if you won't tell me..." He mused, slowly lifting the hem of your shirt up, up, up, until it sat at the top of your ribs, the warm air of the room ghosting over your newly exposed skin

"I'll just have to find out~" And with that, he used the back of his fingernails to trace four quick lines up the surface of your belly. You squeaked involuntarily, your stomach sucking in as much as it could, quivering as a few giggles slipped through your lips.

"Oh? What was that? Was that a giggle? Did my little Y/N giggle?" He coo'd, voice endearing, wiggling his fingers in quick movements over your skin for a second and taking them off just as fast, relishing in your little squeals. After a long second, he used his hands to full on tickle you now, squeezing your hips and and belly, alternating every few seconds between the two. You couldn't help but laugh aloud, throwing your head back as your legs kicked uselessly.

"Awww, does that tickle~? Hm~? Is that tickling you~?" He chuckles, truly enjoying the scene in front of him as he spiders his fingers along your waistline. You couldn't even calm down enough to answer him, or to shoot back a bratty remark, endless giggles flowing from your lips and your eyes squeezed shut. His teases provoked your cheeks to turn a deeper shade of red, your head shaking back and fourth frantically as if that would release you from the hellish sensations consuming your torso.

But thats the thing. The feelings that your boyfriends fingers were inflicting onto your skin were absolutely unbearable...but you somehow still desired more. It was driving you mad, but some small part of your brain was telling you that you enjoyed this. That you didn't want it to stop. You've wanted this for so long and you were finally getting it. You didn't even think about asking him to stop. Instead, you tried your hardest to sit still in his grasp, even trying to subtly arch into the touch without him noticing. But of course..you failed.

"Oooh~?" He purred, slowing down to just a soft gliding of his fingertips across your skin, lowkey disappointing you..but you weren't going to let Chris know that.

"Are you enjoying this? I think you are, seeing how much you're leaanning into it~" He chimes, circling his finger tauntingly around your bellybutton, laughing at the yelp that sounds from you when he dips it in unexpectedly. You leaned your head back, panting softly in between giggle fits.

"You haven't asked me to stop yet. You must really like this, don't you, my little lee~"

At the nickname, your heart skipped a beat and you giggled once again abashedly. Slowly, you nodded, a cute pout on your lips.

"Aww~ So cute~" He mumbled, lifting his arm and wiggling his fingers up the side of your neck. You scrunched your chin to your chest quickly, smiling and weakly pulling at your arms. Not that you were trying to escape, however. Chris stared down at you in thought for a second, stirring your mind as you tried to figure out what he was thinking. He suddenly glanced up at the hallway across from you both, that lead down the the other half of the house. Bathroom, bedroom, spare room/studio and storage closet all lined down that hallway.

"What's wrong, baby?" You asked your boyfriend, looking up at him concerned. He quickly snapped his attention back towards you, a cute smile making it's way back onto his face. His fingers went back to gently gliding across your skin, making you squirm as he talked.

"How about we take this to the bedroom? The bed is alot bigger than the couch, so I'll be able to have more access to your body there." He pinches your side just to get a reaction from you, to which he earned, of course.

"Plus..we have those pretty ties we bought on the internet~" He refers to the red, satin ties that came in the mail a few months ago. He had been on tour at the time, and you were confused until you facetimed him that night and asked him about it. You had wanted to wipe that cheeky smile off his face so bad.

"I.." You trailed off, already knowing your answer but pretending to ponder it anyway. Excitement was bubbling in your gut, right under Chris' fiddling fingertips.

"Sure." You finally answered, avoiding eye contact. You let out a sound of surprise when you were suddenly picked up and thrown over your boyfriends shoulder. You laughed, mentally preparing yourself for what you had in store. God only knows how long it'll last.

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twisted-broth · 5 years

Text

Princess of Hell- Jack x reader

Reader gender: female

Warnings: greif, nightmares, death

Requested by anon on tumblr: can I get a jack x reader where the reader is Crowley’s and jack begins to like her the more time they spend together in the bunker. (Reader is there because Crowley left her instructions on where to go in case he ever died.)

A/n: so I guess when I posted this a few months ago it didn’t work so it’s here again yay

Word count: 1483

You could feel the second that he left you. Your heart twisted in pain and you screamed until your throat gave out. You told him not to go.

Why did he have to go?

You could only pray that the Winchester’s had survived, even if he couldn’t.

“If one day I don’t come back,” he told you, “you have to go here.” He slid you a piece of paper with an address on it. “This is where the Winchester’s live. They’ll take care of you.”

You were sure many of dad’s demons wouldn’t stay loyal for long after they learn about his death, so you had to move quickly. You threw together a suitcase and fished out the paper from a desk drawer.

You read over it a couple of times before willing yourself to appear there.

Due to the many layers of wardings coating the bunker walls, you appeared outside the door. You tried the doorknob of the metal door, only for it to not budge.

Sighing, you sank down next to the door and pulled out your phone.

You scrolled through the list of contacts before finding Sam’s name and giving him a call.

“Hello?” He answered after a few rings.

“Sam Winchester? My name’s Y/n. I’m Crowley’s daughter.” You explained.

“Crowley, yeah he’s mentioned you. Listen, Y/n, what happened to him, that was-”

You cut him off, “It wasn’t your fault, I’m sure. But, he told me that if he were to ever… pass, I should come to your bunker. He said I would be safe here.”

“Crowley helped us a lot. The least we can do is protect you. I think- yeah, the key is under the doormat.”

“The best hunters in the world keep the key to their bunker under the doormat?” You sighed.

“You gotta admit, it’s not an obvious choice.” He defended.

You rolled your eyes. “Thank you, Sam. I’ll be seeing you soon.”

You hung up and stood, brushing yourself off. You kneeled down next to the doormat and lifted it up, revealing the key underneath. You grabbed it and inserted it into the knob of the metal door. The knob turned and the door swung open with ease.

You entered the bunker and marveled at the size of it all. Hauling your suitcase down the stairs, you admired the vast library. You wandered aimlessly through the cement building before arriving at a hallway which appeared to house bedrooms.

Opening the door to the first one, you saw a messy bed with trash and beer bottles littering the floor. Dean’s room, you assumed.

The next had a neat bed with lore books scattered everywhere. Sam’s room, most likely.

The next was very similar, only with a messier floor and bed, but not nearly as bad as Dean’s. You figured it was probably Mary’s.

The next room looked almost untouched. The only sign that it was in use was the two lore books on the foot of the bed and a few creases in the blanket. Castiel’s room, without a doubt.

The second to last room you came across was empty, dust still coating the furniture. You entered, immediately taking it upon yourself to personalize it.

You unpacked your clothes first. You then pulled out the posters and other things you had shoved into your case and hung them up around the room. You made your way over to the bathroom which connected with the room next to yours. Searching through the cabinets, you found cleaning supplies and set to work on the untouched room.

Once you were satisfied with your work, you collapsed on the bed, alone with your thoughts. Finally able to relax, your mind drifted to your dad. You took a shaky breath, realization hitting you like a sack of bricks. Your eyes quickly filled with tears. You silently mourned, nothing left to distract you from your harsh reality.

You spent the next three days in solitude, waiting for the arrival of the legends. You managed to finally understand the layout of the complicated building after pacing the hallways so many times. You ended up sleeping most of the time, despite not needing it. It was a good way to pass the time, and you didn’t have to think when you slept.

Near the end of the third day, you were scanning the library books when the door swung open. You froze as three people entered.

“Y/n?” The first one asked when he saw you.

You nodded, slowly placing the book in your hand back onto the shelf you pulled it from.

“I’m Sam.” He said, coming down the stairs with the other two following behind him. “This is Dean.” He pointed to the person behind him. “And this is Jack.” He finished, gesturing to the last person.

“The nephilim?” You gasped.

“Unfortunately.” Dean muttered, briskly walking passed you and to the kitchen.

“He’s not in the best mood.” Sam sighed, trailing after him.

The room fell silent, you and Jack standing in front of each other in awkward silence.

“Are you like me?” He asked, finally breaking the silence between you.

“I guess so. My mother was human and my father was a demon. I’d be hunted relentlessly if I stayed on Earth. So, dad brought me down to Hell and kept me under his protection.” You shrugged, not wanting to go into too much detail.

“Quite similar to my situation.” He acknowledged. “The Winchesters brought me here to keep me safe.”

“Do you want me to… show you around?” You offered.

He nodded, signaling for you to lead him through the hallways you had come to memorize.

You gave him a quick tour, attempting to sound like you knew what you were doing.

“So, this is some sort of science room. Most of this stuff looks radioactive, I wouldn’t touch anything.”

“This is like a torture room or something. I try not to spend too much time in here, seeing as almost everything in here could kill me.”

“I have no idea what this is supposed to be.”

Once you were finished, you led him down the hallway of rooms. You pointed out who you thought each one belonged to. Finally, you showed him to the last room in the line; the one he would have.

“This room will be yours. My room is right next door, feel free to come over if you’re bored. I’m almost always bored so it’ll be appreciated.” You finished.

“Thank you. I enjoyed walking with you.” He told you.

“Oh… thanks.” You shrugged and turned to your room.

Jack quickly grabbed your arm, stopping you from leaving. “I’m sorry about your father. I didn’t know him, but Sam and Dean thought very highly of him. I… I made a mistake, but he fixed it. If not for him, Lucifer would still be here.” Jack said, consoling you.

“I… thanks, Jack. I guess I really needed that.” You sighed.

“Yeah. Well, I guess I’ll see you around.” He released your arm and brought his hand up to awkwardly rub the back of his neck.

“Yeah.” You confirmed. You turned and entered your room, a small smile resting on your face.

It was a relief to know that there was someone you could talk to in the cement prison. You had always lived in Hell where hallways seemed to go on forever, and you found a new room on every adventure. Everything felt so small, so suffocated here. You flopped onto the bed and willed yourself to sleep, attempting to avoid the whirling thoughts in your head.

—-

You awoke with a start as metal banging echoed through the room. You quickly realized what you had heard was knocks on your door. You turned on a light and walked over to the door. Once it had swung open, you saw Jack before you.

“Hey Jack. Can I help you?” You asked him.

“You know the sleep thing that the humans do?” He asked innocently.

You laughed at his phrasing, “Yeah I know it.”

“Well, I tried that and when I went to sleep I saw these pictures in my head like I was awake except I wasn’t.”

“That’s called a dream, Jack. It happens when you sleep sometimes.” You explained as you led him from the doorway to your bed.

“I didn’t like it.” He said quietly. “I watched my mother die while Lucifer stood in the corner and laughed. I tried to go to her but I couldn’t move. I just didn’t want her to be alone when she died.”

“She wasn’t alone, Jack. I was told that Mary was there. And so were you.” You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you, Y/n. I don’t think I’ll be going back to sleep again for a while, though.”

“That’s alright. I don’t need to sleep either so I’ll stay with you.” You smiled.

“I would like that.” Jack said, smiling up at you.

You gave the neifilem a hug. “I think we’re gonna be good friends, Jack.”

Jack leaned into your embrace. “I think so too.”

Tag list:

@kirstentheineffectiveemo

@mistypancake10666 @thatshellfiredean @all-hail-supernatural @fand0maniac @draiela @bisexualdolphinthings @consultingpals @justasmalltownsuperwholock @lostnliterature

#supernatural #my writing #x reader #supernatural x reader #jack kline x reader #jack x reader #jack #suprnatural oneshot #alexander calvert x reader #alexander calvert #alexander x reader #jack kline

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cryoculus · 5 years

Note

soulmate au wit oikawa where soulmates feel each others pain and oikawa isnt the one who hurt his knee, his soulmate is a soccerplayer and got slide tackled. i really love your work, tysm!!!! 💐

» Word Count: 6,080 wordsCross-posted on AO3

Omg i was looking for references on what to base the scene where the soulmate gets tackled from and this is what i imagined! Just scrub the video to 0:14! I know jack SHIT about soccer though. Everything in this work was purely based off research, so feel free to leave me a message if you spot some errors!

And MAN this was meant to be a short scenario with quick transitions but it turned into a whole drama bomb. You can keep scrolling if you’re not up for a 6000-word oneshot ++ as usual, my shit is terrible on tumblr mobile pls bear with me.

Oikawa loved the thrill of the game.

The incessant beat of his heart against his chest, the adrenaline that surged through his veins, the buzz of confidence that washed over him as he hit powerful serves at the other side of the court – he was enamored with his own capabilities, so to speak.

Today was like any other day. Seijoh was hosting a practice match against Datekou and Oikawa was in top form. They were already down to a match point in the second set. But just before he could land the killing shot that would decide the winner, he halted mid-air as a searing sensation ripped through his knee.

The volleyball bounced aimlessly for having been forgotten. Oikawa fell on his side against the hardwood floor, clutching the afflicted knee to his chest as agony bloomed across his nerves. He bit his lip, not allowing himself to utter a single sound as everyone else on the court crowded around him.

“Coach, Oikawa’s injured!”

The sound of your knee popping from its sockets from where the enemy defender, Yamanaka, kicked you from the side was sickening. Even through the incessant cheer of the audience in the stands, you could hear it loud and clear. The moment the sole of her shoe made brutal contact with your knee, Yamanaka even brushed her torso against yours, roughly toppling you off balance and forcing your kneecap to absorb the impact of your fall.

For a moment, your vision darkened from the agonizing pain that flared up your right knee as you fell onto the grass. A scream ripped its way from your throat, your hands scrambling for purchase to alleviate the mind-numbing sensation that burned through your nerves. You’re sure that your leg was twisted in an unnatural angle, too.

The distant sound of a whistle rang in your ears. Even through your current state, you were hyper aware of everything that’s happening around you. Players from both your team and the opposition flocked around you with concerned stares. Your best friend, Harada immediately crouched beside you, careful not to move your injury.

“Hey, (Name)!” Her eyes were wide with dread. “Can you hear me? Can you stand up?”

You shook your head with minimal effort, groaning as you did your best to remain still to avoid inflaming your knee. A few moments later, a couple of medics arrived in the scene, telling the others to give you some space to breathe. You wanted to tell them that you could breathe fine, but your voice failed you.

As you were being carried onto a stretcher, you could see one of the referees giving Yamanaka a red card. She only shrugged, as if getting penalties was a regular thing for her. But before she could step off the field, she took the liberty to cast you a self-satisfied smirk.

A sob unknowingly made its way from your lips, gaining the attention of one of the medics that was about to bring you to the first aid station. He murmured something about everything being okay in the end and that you’d get to play with your teammates soon enough.

Today really wasn’t your day.

“So,” Doctor Yamano began, “what seems to be the problem here?”

Iwaizumi nudged Oikawa, who was fidgeting nervously under the professional’s gaze. For some reason, he harbored an inexplicable discomfort around doctors. Whenever he visited one, it was either because he was sick or sustained an injury. Frankly, he wasn’t a fan of both.

“While we were playing a practice match against another school earlier today, I…” His voice trailed off. How the hell was he supposed to explain it to him?

Yamano hummed. “Yes?”

He sighed. “…I felt my right knee give out.”

“Did you apply the proper first aid procedures, Oikawa-san?”

Oikawa nodded, recalling the urgency in Coach Irihata’s voice as they lugged him to Seijoh’s infirmary.

“Is it severe? It probably isn’t if you’re not in the emergency room, I presume?”

He scratched the back of his head, laughing nervously. “It felt serious. I really thought my whole career was done for just because of a practice match.”

Yamano nodded in understanding. “Did you have your knee x-rayed already?”

“Uh, no.”

He sighed before lacing his fingers together. “Well, I’ll be needing a clear image of it so I can make a proper diagnosis, Oikawa-san. I’ll write you up a request form to show the radiologists.”

“Ah…” Oikawa wanted to tell him that it really wasn’t necessary. That maybe going here was a mistake because his knee still looked pretty much intact, save for the dull throb that pestered him throughout the day. Iwaizumi even jokingly berated his soulmate for getting such a severe injury. But Oikawa didn’t really know how doctors reacted to that.

So when he was given the green light to get an x-ray, Oikawa told Iwaizumi that he’d be all right on his own and that he should get going. There was obvious apprehension in his best friend’s eyes, but he indulged Oikawa’s request, regardless.

He was glad. If there truly was something wrong with him, he wouldn’t want Iwaizumi to be there to see how bad it was. He already worried about him far too much than Oikawa deserved.

“You go here often?”

You shot the guy that was sitting a few seats away from you in the waiting room a bizarre look. If you could recall perfectly, you were in a radiology center, not a bar.

“I’m not even from here,” you explained gruffly, pressing your legs closer together. They exchanged your uniform with a hospital gown to minimize the pressure on your knee as much as possible. The injury was beyond what the stadium’s first aid medics could manage, thus the impromptu trip to the Sendai Medical Center. But before the doctors could assess the severity of your condition, they needed a visual.

“Hmm, so am I.” The stranger sighed miserably. “I live in another district, but this is the only hospital that covers my insurance. So, where you from?”

Your brows scrunched up at his nonchalance. Did you not look distraught enough for him to just leave you to your own devices? Maybe he was just like that as a person?

You exhaled. “I’m from Hyogo.”

His noticeably brown eyes widened in surprise. “What’re you doing all the way here, then?”

“You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

A soft-hearted laugh escaped his lips as he flashes you a cheeky grin. “When I see cute girls looking like their whole world just ended before their eyes, it’s kind of my thing to swoop down and comfort them.”

“Like a knight in shining armor of sorts?” you snorted.

He shrugged. “Take it as you like. All I’m saying is that I’m a pretty good listener. It’s not like we’ll cross paths again for me to hold anything you tell me against you, right?”

You managed to give him a lopsided smile. The gravity of everything that’s transpired today was slowly beginning to weigh down on your shoulders.

When the coach’s assistant arrived in the hospital, the game had already been concluded. Without their main offensive player, Mikage Shihan had to surrender their title to Aomori High for this year’s tournament.

When the news fell upon your ears, the sting of loss almost rivalled the throbbing ache in your knee. But before you could get emotional about your own hastiness, the nurse that attended to you in the emergency room informed that they needed an x-ray so the doctors could treat you accordingly.

Your eyes trailed back to the chatty stranger. He’s gazing at you expectantly and though there’s something about that sympathetic look he’s giving you that’s making warmth dance across your skin, you weren’t really the type to confide in people you just met.

Just as you were about to reject his offer, the door to the room where they conducted the x-rays swung open. The person inside called out your name, saying the machine was up and running. Talk about being saved by the bell.

You gave the stranger a curt nod as you tried to stand up from your seat, almost crumpling to the floor when the sharp pain from your knee shot up in your leg again, but you resisted it. Too many people have seen you in this sorry state already. You didn’t intend to add more to the list.

When the door closed behind you, you completely missed the way Oikawa Tooru clutched his own knee in a deathly grip as the pain, that he’s now realizing really wasn’t his own, came to life once more.

His knee was fine, but he’s pretty sure he accidentally stumbled into his soulmate in the process. At first, Oikawa didn’t know if Iwaizumi would understand, but thankfully he did.

“It happens,” he told Oikawa as they were heading home from practice. “Not everyone experiences it though.”

Iwaizumi told him about how Hanamaki and Matsukawa used their own bond to grate at each other’s nerves. Oikawa did a double-take on that one. He asked Iwaizumi why they didn’t bother telling him, their most trusted friend, about their status as soulmates. Iwauzmi smacked his head, reminding him how much of a chatterbox he was and that Makki and Mattsun wanted to keep it private.

“Ow!”

The woman that’s overseeing your therapy shot you a concerned look. You’re in the middle of doing the exercises that aid in rehabilitating the torn ligament in your knee, and you were on the last of your reps when suddenly, you lurched forward as if a ghostly hand had smacked you upside the head.

“You doing all right there, bud?” your therapist asked, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You rubbed the side of your head, still stinging from the contact (or lack thereof). “I feel like my head was spiked by a volleyball player.”

She laughed. “Really now?”

“Yeah, I’ve been feeling it really often. One time, I was eating and my face nearly pummelled into a bowl of ramen.”

“Your soulmate must piss a lot of people off, then.”

You stared at her, but laughed it off as one of her jokes. Surely, she didn’t mean you actually had a soulmate right? Only a few people were blessed enough to be given one. Besides, whoever got stuck with you as a soulmate would be damned to the achingly slow healing stage of your knee for an indefinite amount of time.

But a hopeful part of you wished that, if you did have a soulmate, they wouldn’t be an athlete like you. Your own tribulation would only weigh them down in ways you can only imagine.

Oikawa could bear with the pain.

On good days, it was just a faint throb in his knee that he could ignore for the most part. His performance wouldn’t be easily affected by a twinge of pain. He had a pretty high tolerance for it, after all.

But there were also times like these when he’d wake up in the middle of the night, clutching his leg as he stifled a scream. What were you doing in such an ungodly hour?

He laid in his bed until the agony subsided back into the usual telltale throb that reminded him that though it’s no longer volatile, the sensation was still there. You were still in pain. He didn’t like the idea; not one bit.

That was the first time he looked you up. He clumsily spelled out your name on the search engine in the way that he remembered the x-ray technician from nearly a month ago pronounced it. He expected to see links to social media accounts you probably owned, but instead he was faced with a bunch of news articles from online high school sports magazines.

Curious, he clicked on the first link.

“Hyogo’s Own (Surname) (Name), Out of Commision for Good?”

Oikawa vaguely recalled you mentioning that you were from Hyogo and nothing else. It was a district far off on the other side of the country. It would take more than twelve hours to drive there, yet he had found you sitting in a hospital in Sendai with a dead look in your eyes. He always wondered how exactly you wound up waiting to get an x-ray of whatever was afflicting you so far away from home, but the pieces slowly came together as his eyes grazed every word in the article.

“The coach of Hyogo’s Mikage Shihan is yet to release a statement with regards to their star player’s condition. But from what we’ve gathered from the team’s captain, Matsumoto Hiyori, she sustained a severe injury in her right leg. Some speculate that it was a dislocation, but others insisted that it was just a torn ligament. Whatever the cause may be, the football scene would be having scarce glimpses of one of Japan’s top three high school strikers, both in the male and female divisions.”

Your back collided with the wall as Harada roughly pressed you against it, holding you by the shoulders as unveiled fury burned in her eyes.

“Do you really want to end your whole career because of your own stubbornness?” she spat.

You have half the mind to tell her that your career would end sooner if you didn’t practice, but Harada would only remind you that you were given a three-month probation from any sporting activities. You hated that your doctor was right, that Harada was right, but could they blame you?

Soccer was all you had – it’s all you’re good at. You wanted to feel the rush of running through the field, the sun glaring at your skin, and the sound of grass crunching under the soles of your shoes. You ached for it.

“Just one month more, (Name),” she whispered, her fingers trembling. “One more and you’ll be free to play again. But right now…your knee still needs to heal.”

You knew that. You knew it far too well more than Harada or anyone else could ever understand. The burden of waking up every morning, feeling like your knee was going to snap off its sockets at any moment was already fair enough of a warning. But you couldn’t help yourself. You needed to move, to constantly be doing something because you’d rather incapacitate yourself entirely than spend another second feeling worthless. Seeing everyone do their drills on the field as you watched them between the barrier of a chain-link fence ate away at your sanity more than you expected it to.

The door to the locker rooms abruptly creaked open as your team’s goalie, Suzuhime, and your captain, Matsumoto, made their entrance, shattering the tension that nearly suffocated you.

Their gazes, oh how sick you were of those pitiful gazes they sent your way. Why did they always look at you like you wouldn’t be playing alongside them anymore? It infuriated you to no end and the frustration that’s been building up in your chest for weeks just…burst.

“Why does everyone have to keep deciding what I can and can’t do for myself?” you snapped. “It’s my body, it’s my career, why do you have to meddle with what I want to fucking do with my life?”

Poison might as well dribbled from your chin at the sharpness of your tone. The two newcomers shot you wide-eyed stares, unused to your seething behavior, but Harada remained unfazed. She’s known you since you were children and even if you were a collected person for the most part, she’s borne witness to your rage a handful of times. And she knew how to handle the situation accordingly.

You were armed with an arsenal of even more hurtful things to say, but before any of them left your lips, the sting of Harada’s palm smacking against your face snapped you out of your haze of indignation.

The frown you didn’t know you’ve been making loosens as your lips parted in surprise when tears fell from Harada’s eyes.

“You’re not the only one who’s hurt by this, you know?” she interjected with a shaky breath. “We hate seeing you in pain. We hate it when you try to push yourself to limits you can’t reach anymore. So please just–” she exhaled, “–try to understand why we’re keeping you from training.”

Matsumoto came forward, pulling the two of you in a tight embrace. Suzuhime muttered something about unwarranted affection, but joined in regardless. You couldn’t react. You never really thought of it that way until Harada slapped you with the truth (no pun intended).

“Can you promise me one thing, as your captain?” Matsumoto pressed her lips in a thin line.

You nodded.

“Focus on getting better. The field won’t disappear, but your career can. Wasn’t that one big shot university in Tokyo eyeing you for a sports scholarship? You can’t lose that.”

And she was right. There was more to your life than this measly little slip-up. In five years give or take you’d be laughing at this whole thing like it was an inside joke. Everything was going to get better.

With that, you wiped the tears that ran across Harada’s cheeks, mumbling an almost inaudible apology.

“Man, you guys are too uptight,” Suzuhime whined. “Let’s all just get some pork buns like we used to!”

The idea never sounded better.

“What’s up with you?” Iwaizumi spared Oikawa a mindful glance. Their captain was rubbing his cheek instead of warming up for practice.

“I think she got slapped,” he muttered.

Hanamaki, having found out about Oikawa’s newly discovered soulmate bond, cackled. “You want to return the favor?”

“Shut the fuck up, Makki.”

“A soulmate?” Harada cocked her head to the side. “Don’t you have one, Suzu?”

Redness crept up Suzuhime’s face for having been singled out. “Um, yeah. It’s my childhood friend. You don’t know him. He goes to another school.”

Matsumoto scoffed. “That’s just high school girl-talk for ‘my soulmate doesn’t exist’.”

“Hey! He does, too!”

Harada waved away their impending banter, her attention solely on you. “So you think you have a soulmate?”

You nodded, eyes drifting towards your half-eaten pork bun. “They get hit a lot. I’m worried they’re in an abusive environment.”

“How sweet,” Suzuhime sighed. “My soulmate doesn’t care about his health at all. He always gets into scuffles and the bruises take ages to heal. When I talked to him about it, he just shrugged it off!”

“If he exists, that is,” taunted your captain.

“Matsu, I am going to tape your damn mouth.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Ignore them,” Harada told you. “So, what do you plan on doing about it?”

You’ve been asking yourself the same thing. Soulmate bonds are a surefire way of determining that someone was out there fated to be with you. But the tricky part was finding them. They could be anywhere in the world and the only means you had to contact them were the shared sensations of pain you felt on both ends of the bond.

Your eyes drifted onto the black knee brace you’ve been coerced to wear for the duration of your therapy. It served as a visual reminder of what had happened. But then again, the dull ache that made itself known every now and then still haunted you. Did your soulmate feel that slight ounce of pain, too?

“I think,” you sighed, “I’m just going to wait it out.”

This was bad.

Oikawa Tooru was known for his exceptional talent as a setter and a jump server. He wouldn’t have the audience from the stands hyping him up when it’s his turn to send a merciless blow towards their opponent. But jump serves were the only serves he made, since he refused to settle for anything less. This put an unnecessary strain on his knees that he knew, from the start, he would pay for when the time comes.

That time was now.

He hissed as Iwaizumi soothed the taut muscles in Oikawa’s legs. Matsukawa handed their ace an ice pack, which he placed over their captain’s aching knee.

“Is it yours?” Iwaizumi asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Matsukawa snickered at the side. “Of all the soulmates you could have ended up with, they just had to be an injury-prone idiot, too.”

Normally, he would’ve told Mattsun off for being mean, but honestly, he couldn’t have been more right.

“Shouyou’s playing volleyball now?” you clarified to your mother, who was giving you your afternoon massage.

She hummed. “Your aunt told me their school’s fighting to qualify as Miyagi’s representative for nationals. They got us tickets to watch their semifinals game.”

You couldn’t ever picture your little cousin, Shouyou, being able to touch the top of a volleyball net. He never even showed the vaguest interest in any kind of sport! Whenever his family visited yours in Hyogo a few years back, you always tried to get him into soccer one way or another. But he was as stubborn as an ox. Now, you’re hearing he’s playing to qualify for a national-level tournament for their prefecture?

“Miyagi, huh? That’s where I…” You frowned. No, you weren’t going to dwell on it any longer. “When’s the game?”

“This Friday, but we’re leaving on Thursday night. Your father’s driving.”

School wasn’t particularly hectic this time around, so you shrugged, agreeing with your mother to go all the way back to the place where some of your dreams were crushed. It wouldn’t do anyone harm, right?

Things were looking pretty dire for Seijoh. The little chibi – no, his entire team wasn’t letting up at all. It annoyed Oikawa more than it should. How did they still have that much determination left?

Oikawa’s breath came out a little shaky as Mr. Refreshing and the little shrimp attempted to send the ball back to Seijoh. But Oikawa saw through the feint. Sugawara set it into the ace’s direction instead, who promptly slammed it down with unparalleled precision. Hanamaki was quick to react, diving for it without a second’s hesitation. The receive was off and it was flying away from the court, but Oikawa’s feet moved before he could even set a plan in stone.

He forced his legs into sprints as he snapped his arm and pointed an index finger in the direction of the person he trusted most. His eyes flashed with fiery determination and the flames spread to Iwaizumi’s as well. It seemed impossible. It would be one of the riskiest sets he would have to make in his whole career thus far, but if he didn’t take it, he would just be admitting defeat.

Oikawa launched himself into the air, twisting his torso in the direction of Seijoh’s ace and put the ball back in play all the way from where he set it from outside the court. Iwaizumi nodded in understanding, bending his knees for the sole purpose of connecting it. Naturally, the rules of physics still applied in a volleyball game and gravity eventually brought Oikawa back on the ground, at the cost of his back colliding with some of the metal chairs set aside.

But Iwaizumi didn’t disappoint. He was already flying, arm pulled back in a spiking stance before the ball could even come to him. He trusted Oikawa’s accuracy enough to make this shot possible. There was no one else that could pull this off.

The captain grit his teeth, struggling to get back on his feet, but a sheet of black cloth was on the floor, making him lose traction in his shoes. The urgency in his action made him slip, his bad knee – your bad knee – colliding with the floor. The familiar sting in his bones flared back into life, but he couldn’t afford to pay it any mind.

He was running. Running even if his knee screamed for him to stop. Running even if his lungs burned for a breather. Running because even if Iwaizumi connected his set with a beautiful spike, that blasted Karasuno delinquent was definitely going to receive it–

A pained scream momentarily distracted him from everything happening on the court. It was strange. He never let what was going on in the stands distract him from a game, whether it be Seijoh’s supporters egging them on or some other matter than didn’t require his attention.

But he could see it. The way you crumpled on the stairs a few levels above in the stands, clutching your knee to chest as you howled in agony. His heart stopped at the sight.

What were you doing here?

“It hurts! It hurts!” you sobbed into your father’s shirt, fingers clamped around your aching leg. The all-too familiar pain erupted in your knee at the very same time that familiar face slipped on the court. You knew it wasn’t just a coincidence that the chatty stranger from a few months back was in the very same match as Shouyou.

“Shh, we’re going to get your meds, baby,” your father cooed as he carefully hooked his arm under your knees and supported your back with the other. “Just hold out for a while.”

You could vaguely hear your mother apologizing to your aunt, but all your mind could focus on was how beautiful his eyes were. They were looking straight at you with crackling intensity. But before you could spend any longer drowning in those hazel eyes, your father carried you out of the stands, whispering words of consolation in your ear.

“Oikawa-san!”

Yahaba’s shout pulled Oikawa back into focus and he could clearly see Tobio running about on the court, going into position for their freak quick. A menacing smile graced Oikawa’s lips. That’s what he wanted – for his junior to use their ultimate weapon and fail.

But something was wrong.

Iwaizumi, Kindaichi, and Kyoutani – the three of them, at the same time, lunged in an attempt to sully the ball’s trajectory. But they shouldn’t. The chibi’s arms were angled too obtuse. The shot was definitely going outside. He was about to bark at them to stop being a couple of idiots, but there was no reversing it.

Even if you can’t stop it, touch it, that’s what Oikawa always told them. He shouldn’t go back on his own teachings now.

The chibi’s spike grazed Iwaizumi’s fingers. Out of instinct, Oikawa pulled his arms to the side in a pathetic attempt to receive, but he knew it was in vain. If only he stood a few feet at the back, maybe he could have had better odds.

But fate has always been cruel to the ordinary.

As all eyes were on the outplayed volleyball, none of the players dared to draw a breath. But seeing that Oikawa was already their last line of defense, it collided with the floor, the echoing sound imprinted in his mind for the rest of his days.

Seijoh had fallen.

“When I find that boy, I’m going to beat him to a pulp,” your father flatly proclaimed when you finished your story. The three of you were back in the Hinatas’ living room, your mother having soothed your knee with her otherworldly massage.

“Dad, no,” you pleaded, but knew he didn’t mean the threat. At least, not entirely.

“I’m going to have to agree with your father, sweetie,” your mother caressed your hair. “He must know what’s going on with you by now. He should be more careful.”

You rolled your eyes. “Mom, I should have been careful. Who knows what he went through when I got slide tackled in the Aomori game.”

She hesitated before sighing in defeat. Your parents then shared a look, presumably having a telepathic conversation as to what your next course of action should be.

But before they could make that decision for you, Shouyou emerged from the hallway.

“You’re…soulmates with the Grand King?”

You didn’t know who this ‘grand king’ was, but he probably meant the chatty stranger turned volleyball player you met eyes with earlier today. You shot Shouyou a pained smile.

“Yeah.”

“Iwa-chan, I don’t get why we’re in rival territory. Why won’t you just tell me?” Oikawa simpered as Iwaizumi dragged him along further inside Karasuno’s campus. A few girls they passed by shot him knowing glances, which was odd. Most females would swoon at the sight of Oikawa Tooru.

“Shut up, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi dismissed before letting go of his best friend’s collar when they arrive at the school’s gym. “Someone wants to see you.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes. “If it’s Tobio-chan, tell him to forget it! As if I’ll let him gloat about their victory in my face.”

“Dumbass, it’s not him! None of the players are looking for you!”

“Then why are we even here in the first place?”

“Uhm, hello?”

It’s been months since Oikawa’s heard that voice, but even now, he could still associate your face with it. You peeked your head from inside Karasuno’s gym. The sound of volleyball shoes scraping against the polished floor spilling from inside almost made Oikawa nostalgic, but he was preoccupied with something else entirely.

You grinned at him, but your eyes held a hint of shyness in them. Oikawa didn’t know whose breath hitches, but he’s definitely having a hard time taking in oxygen at the sight of your face, more vibrant than the first time he saw you in Sendai. His eyes glazed over the knee brace slapped on your right knee – it looked painfully similar to the one he needed to wear in games.

“I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time,” came your sheepish apology. “If I’d been more careful back then, you could’ve beat these guys… But I was rooting for Shouyou from the start, so…”

Oikawa didn’t know anyone named Shouyou, but he must have been someone close enough to you that you’d go all the way from Hyogo to watch their game against Karasuno. He made sure to shower whoever Shouyou was with infinite affection for finally, finally bringing you back to him.

Shit, he’s hot.

You didn’t remember mister chatterbox from the hospital being this attractive. Maybe you just had such a terribly pessimistic view of the world at the time that you missed how unfairly good-looking he was.

You could feel the warmth spreading all over your face at apologizing profusely for your past mishandling of your current predicament. But he dismissed all of your concerns with a lighthearted laugh that sounded like a symphony in your ears.

“(Surname) (Name), Japan’s number three striker, is apologizing for an injury she didn’t even mean to get? You’re quite the saint, are you?” The way your name rolled off his tongue tugged at your heartstrings more than it should. Stupid soulmate bonds, making you lose composure all the damn time.

“You know who I am?” you queried, rather amused with this revelation.

He offered a nonchalant shrug. “I do my research.”

The two of you stood there, carefully taking in each other as much as you could. You almost felt bad for the friend he brought with him, who stepped aside as to not interrupt your first meeting with your soulmate. But knowing that he’s the boy who’s always getting smacked in the head, the one that made you feel the sting of a service ace on the tips of your fingers, and the very same guy that powered through the burden you unknowingly shoved into his plate all with an award-winning grin on his face, it was all worth it.

This was Oikawa Tooru, one of the most amazing setters in the high school volleyball scene.

But why did he look like he was about to cry?

Oikawa couldn’t help it. He threw his arms around you and took a long whiff of your scent. Ever since he ensured your identity, he couldn’t help but think of all the times your pain was transmitted to him. Those days were difficult for him, alone, already, what more for the person actually suffering the affliction?

Gentle fingers tangled themselves in your hair as he pulled you as tight as he could into his own body. His arms shook with the sheer emotions coursing through his veins and–

“Why are you crying?”

He sighed, placing his hands on your shoulders. You eyed him bizarrely, but concern was lining your features, nonetheless.

“I hurt you.”

You snorted.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve hurt you more times than the other way around,” you retorted, smiling up at him. “What kind of athlete would I be if I had a shitty pain tolerance?”

His eyes widened, taken aback with your reply. Admittedly, he already planned his first meeting with you in his imagination dozens of times. Only he didn’t expect for it to be in Karasuno, a day after his last volleyball game in high school. But he imagined himself letting his emotions lose, apologizing for hurting you, and you clasping his hands in forgiveness. He didn’t exactly write it in the script for you to take the blame, yourself, too.

You were simply full of surprises.

You spent the rest of the afternoon talking and talking until the sun was beginning to bleed into the horizon.

Oikawa Tooru was an interesting person. He loved volleyball, had a penchant for milk bread, and admitted that he may be quite the narcissist at times. He told you that Tobio-chan, one of Shouyou’s teammates, was a junior that finally surpassed him. (There was a bitter undercurrent to his voice as he told that part.) He was going to Tokyo for college and–

“For real? I’m headed for Tokyo, too,” you chuckled, lacing your fingers together on your lap.

Oikawa quirked an eyebrow. “Do you happen to be on a sports scholarship as well?”

You hummed, smiling playfully. “I dunno. Could the number three high school striker of Japan be able to land a scholarship even after this shitty injury?”

“Hmm…probably not.” Oikawa shook his head.

That reply garnered a pout. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t seen her play yet. She’s seen me play, and we both know that my skill is already university-tier.”

“Yet, you still lost,” you sighed dramatically.

The offended look on his face was priceless. “You didn’t have to go that far!”

You bellowed a hearty laugh, clutching your stomach at the puppy eyes he’s sending your way. Never could you have imagined that same boy from the radiology center being gifted with a whimsical persona so in tune with your own. Weirdly, you’re thankful for the injury that linked you to him.

But as your laughter died down, the sun had already set. Your mother told you to be back with Shouyou and from the looks of it, the boys were already cleaning up inside the gym.

You glanced at Oikawa, who was contently gazing at you with a small smile.

“I’m going back to Hyogo tonight,” you imparted.

He gave you a curt nod. “Have a safe trip.”

“What, you’re not going to proclaim your love for me and force me to never leave your side again?”

Oikawa wrinkled his nose at such a bold statement. “You’re pretty, but not that pretty.”

“Hey!”

“I jest. I jest,” he chuckled, tucking in a lone tuft of your hair behind your ear. The graze of his fingers against the skin of your cheek made your lips part in a mute sigh.

“All I’m saying is what’s there to fret about when we have–” he gestured towards your knee, “–this bonding us?”

“You saying you want me to get injured again, Tooru?”

“Oh, say my name again.”

“Pervert!”

“No! It really sounded nice in your voice!”

“(Name)-neesan!”

Your heart almost sank at the sound of Shouyou’s voice. He emerged from the entrance with his gym bag slung across his shoulder. With a polite smile, he asked if you were ready to go.

You almost told him that, yes, you were, but that’s until Oikawa hissed at him like a cat.

“You’re the Shouyou that brought us together?” he accused with thinly veiled apprehension, to which Shouyou laughed.

“That’s right, Grand King! You owe me now!”

“I owe nothing to any of you Karasuno folk!”

You rolled your eyes to pull Oikawa into an abrupt embrace, which effectively snapped him out of his hostility towards your younger cousin. He stammered with his words, but they remained forgotten when you whispered in his ear:

“See you in Tokyo.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru hc #oikawa tooru x reader #im crying #soulmate au #this was so much fun to wrITE #I LOVE HIM #the grand king of mY LIFE #hqscenario

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