#listen to more of their music i love them
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home is wherever you are
pairing: charles leclerc x reader
summary: secretly falling in love with your best friend is tough. secretly falling in love with your best friend who also happens to be your roommate is even less than ideal. the solution? move out! (hint: it isn’t a very good one.) (5k)
warnings: angst with a happy ending, a smidge of google translated french lol
a/n: CHARLES LECLERC!!! CHARLES LECLERC!!!!LECLERC!!! LECLERAUGHCOUGHCOUGH
“I still cannot believe you’re abandoning me.”
Charles shoved another box of your things into the boot of your car rather huffily, as if to reiterate just how unhappy he was.
“I’m not abandoning you, I’m moving out of your apartment.” You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully at him. You passed him the last box off the ground, wiping your hands off on your shorts before propping them on your hips.
“That is quite literally the same thing.” He mirrored your stance in total seriousness, frown unwavering. “And it’s not my apartment, it’s yours now too. Your home.”
You’d been living with Charles for a while now, having been suddenly evicted from your own place three, almost four years ago. With nowhere else to go, you’d turned to your best friend, and Charles had welcomed you with open arms, giving you a home when you’d needed it most.
There were many good things about living with Charles—he liked to cook (which boded well with you, seeing as you were no master chef yourself. Except for when he’d gone through a questionable phase of combining cuisines that did not go well together.), he was respectful of set boundaries and agreed upon rules. You had the same taste in shows and movies, which made for little fighting when it came to deciding on what to watch.
But most notably, he loved to play the piano. It was a hobby he’d picked up during long days spent staying at home, and he was good at it too. An electronic keyboard when he’d first started out, just to see if it was something he was serious about, but as he zoomed through the basics with ease, he’d splurged on a gorgeous white piano that stood proudly in the living room.
Soon enough, it wasn’t unusual for the apartment to be full of music, beautiful songs of Charles’ own composing.
He played whenever he had the feeling. Whenever he had something on his mind, whenever he was bored, anything, he’d spend hours at the piano, playing, playing, playing. Some might’ve called it annoying, but not you. You found it rather soothing.
It had very quickly become a habit of yours to fall asleep listening to Charles play. Something about it seemed to always relax you just enough to the point where you could pretty much fall asleep anywhere if he was at the bench.
Your favorite spot was on the sofa with a big blanket, watching him get lost in the notes until you drifted off. More often than not, you could rarely get a good night’s sleep without Charles’ accompaniment—your very own version of white noise.
But truth be told, this past year of living together with Charles had been trickier than the first couple. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment things began to change, but something had definitely shifted between you.
You’d been trying to write it off just the two of you being very close, but you’d been dancing on the line of close friends and more than friends for a long time. Falling asleep together cuddled on the sofa, lingering touches whilst you were in the same room and in passing, hugs that lasted a little too long to be considered normal.
The more your feelings for Charles grew, the more worried you became. Worried about what, you weren’t exactly sure. All you knew was you didn’t want to lose the longest and best friendship you’d ever had because you went and fell in love.
“I know. But I think it’s well past time I get out of your hair and try being on my own for once.” You said softly, stepping in to fold yourself into Charles’ arms.
Most of that was true. You did feel like you needed to live by yourself for a chance, to see what it was like to be fully independent in your adult life. You’d moved in with Charles when you were twenty two, and you were twenty five now. It was time for you to venture out on your own.
But the uncertainty of falling in love with your best friend was definitely also a contributing factor.
He made a displeased sound at your words, but tucked you under his chin nonetheless. “I don’t want you to get out of my hair. My hair likes it with you here.”
“I live fifteen minutes away, Cha. I’m not moving across the country. You and your hair can come over anytime.” You scoffed, giving him a gentle poke in the ribs. “And I’ll come over here all the time too, you know that.”
“Fine, fine. I don’t know what I am supposed to do with your empty room now, but I’ll figure it out. Maybe I will take up scrapbooking. Knitting. Needlepoint, maybe. Turn it into a craft room.”
“Maybe you can turn it into a music room. Move the keyboard in there, your piano.”
“Ah, bien entendu, my piano. How will you ever fall asleep without my sweet, sweet melodies?”
“I think I will manage just fine.” You chuckled.
Charles held you at arms’ length, dark brows furrowing as he scowled. “What I’m hearing is you don’t love me anymore.”
Oh, if only he knew.
You smiled instead, patting his cheek good-naturedly. “Come on, you drama queen. I want to move in before the sun goes down.”
Charles went full protection mode the second all your belongings had made it safely inside the apartment, intently checking every lock, window, door hinge, cabinet—not an inch of the apartment went uninspected by him. When he seemed fairly satisfied with his safety checks, he returned to where you were unpacking kitchen items over by the oven.
“Everything up to your standards?” You asked, pulling out a stack of plates wrapped in brown paper. Charles shuffled over, easing them out of your hands and unwrapping them to help put them up in the cabinet. “No one is going to break in through my window tonight?”
“Don’t even joke about that.” He grumbled, chucking the balled up paper at you gently. “Everything I checked is fine. You will be safe here.”
Food was simple when it came time for dinner—takeout on the floor of your living room, because you hadn’t had the time to go shopping for a coffee table yet. Or a dining room table. Or even chairs, really. All you had were some pillows and an overturned cardboard box to put the food on.
Charles had insisted on helping you furnish the whole place before you moved in but you’d declined, saying that you wanted to get a feel for the place before filling it with everything. The last time it would be this empty would be the day you moved out.
He seemed a little quiet the rest of the night, but you didn’t press it until after dinner, whilst he was helping you with the washing up. Well, helping was a strong word.
“You’ve been drying that plate for ages now.” You observed, tilting your head at him thoughtfully. Charles inhaled sharply, shaking his head like he’d been snapped out of a stupor. He glanced down at the completely dry plate, then back up at you blankly. “What’re you thinking about?”
“You’re really going to be gone.”
“You say that like I told you I’ve only got days to live. I won’t be gone, Cha. I’ll be around.” You chuckled, flicking dish soap bubbles in his direction. Charles responded by flinging his towel at you, cracking a smile. You liked it when he smiled, hated it when he frowned. He was still unfairly attractive, but it wasn’t Charles’ scowl that made you fall in love with him.
“We can spend the day together anytime, you can come over whenever you want, and if it makes you feel any better, I will give you your very own key.”
That seemed to put him a little more in higher spirits.
“What will you ever do without me?” He wondered out loud, feigning a thoughtful expression.
“Probably clean up a lot less. Be able to take a shower without running out of hot water halfway through. Oh! Have a bottle of shampoo last more than a month because someone—not naming names, of course, won’t use it because they’ve run out of theirs. Not have to fight for—”
“Alright, alright, I get it!” Charles huffed, grabbing you by the shoulders and promptly shoving your face into his chest to stop you from talking.
You grinned against the softness of his hoodie. “Shall I go on?”
“No, no you shouldn’t.” His hold on you loosened, but you stayed right where you were, wrapping your arms around his torso. “Just admit it. You’ll miss me.”
“I will miss you.” You said softly, pressing your cheek into the crook of his neck. If there was something Charles was unbelievably good at (besides literally anything he’d ever tried), it was giving the best hugs. Something about them made you feel safe, like nothing and nobody could ever hurt you as long as you were in his arms.
“You already know how much I’m going to miss having you around.”
“Yeah, I am pretty great.”
A laugh rumbled through his chest. “You are.”
“You’ve been the best roommate I could’ve asked for. Thank you for everything.” Your words were muffled between the two of you, and you were glad for it, because he didn’t seem to notice the waver in your tone. But he did squeeze you a little tighter, so maybe he did hear you. “I love you, Cha.”
Charles’ voice seemed to waver just a bit too. “I love you too.”
“Okay, okay, you really need to leave. Go before I change my mind and make you stay.” You blurted, pushing him away playfully. It was better than letting him see you get emotional.
“Is that a promise?”
“No, it’s a threat. Go home. I will see you soon.” You gave his hand one last squeeze, nodding reassuringly to rid him of the crease between his brows. “Don’t worry about me. Go, get some rest.”
It was only then that he seemed satisfied enough to leave, but even then, he cast another backwards glance towards you on his way down the hall, as if he was waiting for you to beckon him back. You just smiled as best you could.
You’d get over it. You had to. There was still a lot you needed to get done before you called it a night.
It wasn’t until you were getting ready to go to bed that you started to feel lonely. You and Charles had your respective bedtime routines, but they always intertwined.
You never liked being the one to turn off all the lights in the apartment because the switch was at the end of the hallway opposite from your bedrooms, so he knew to do it because you hated running back through the darkness after flipping the switch.
He always filled a glass with water for late night sipping, but never remembered to actually bring it to his room until he was already in bed, so you always grabbed it for him so he wouldn’t have to make the trek back out the kitchen.
The bathroom counter was where you’d find each other the most, terrible jokes and funny stories told muffled through toothpaste bubbles, even though you could’ve just waited until you were finished to tell each other. You’d flick water at him as you washed your face because he took up too much space at the sink, he’d turn off the tap in retaliation, things like that.
Sometimes Charles would stay up later playing video games with his friends, or take some extra time to practice piano, so you wouldn’t get to do your well oiled machine routine, but he’d always take the extra second to pop into your room to say goodnight when he heard you bustling around, even if he was in the middle of something.
The times you fell asleep on the sofa to Charles’ playing the piano, he’d camp out at the other end of the sofa for the night, or at the very least made sure you were covered with a blanket if he went to sleep in his own room.
It was something you’d grown accustomed to over the years, oftentimes the well-needed end to a not so great day. Charles never failed to put a smile on your face, even with something as small and mundane as a bedtime routine.
But there was none of that as you ran through your routine this time.
You didn’t hear him shuffling around over in the other room, the muffled sounds of his shouts as he played his games, and most of all, you didn’t hear him and his piano.
Because there was no Charles. Of course there wasn’t. You were in this new place that you hadn’t had quite nearly enough of a chance to get used to yet, alone, and it was finally settling in.
Suddenly moving out and away from him seemed like the worst decision in the world.
You knew it was only the first night. You had to give yourself a chance to reacclimate, and that would take time. So you inhaled a deep breath, trying to get as comfy as you could for a long, probably sleepless night ahead.
It was nearing four in the morning when you finally decided to give up and call Charles. Part of you thought he might not even pick up the phone, because he was probably asleep. Any sane person would be sleeping right now.
Much to your surprise, he answered on the second ring.
“Why are you awake?” You asked, maybe a bit harshly.
“Um, you are the one who called me? Why are you awake?” He replied, groggy voice still teasing. His accent always grew thicker when he was sleepy. You thought it was adorable. “You cannot sleep, can you?”
“...No.” Your voice grew smaller. You felt embarrassed at the fact that you couldn’t even make it one full night without Charles around. “I just…I wanted to hear your voice, I guess. I miss you already, Cha.”
Charles fell silent for a few moments, the only sound on his side of the line being his gentle exhales. “I miss you too. Do you want me to come over? I can stay the night, if you want.”
“No. No, you don’t need to do that.” You said softly. “Can you just talk to me?”
This was also something that had become somewhat of a ritual when either of you couldn’t sleep.
You’d tiptoe into each other’s rooms quiet as a mouse, slipping into bed beside the other. Charles always stirred when he felt the bed dip under your weight, half asleep but still reaching out to pull you against his chest like it was second nature. On the occasions when he came into your room, you’d feel him tuck himself close to you, nosing against any part of you he could find with a content sigh.
There was no rhyme or reason to the things you’d talk about in those moments, but eventually, somehow, you’d both end up asleep, usually fairly quickly. Maybe it was the extra added comfort of each other that helped, you could never tell.
It wasn’t unusual to wake up a jumble of limbs tangled together, and neither of you ever addressed it either. Just went on with your business as usual, never talking about it because it was just something you did. To help each other sleep, of course.
Another thing that really blurred the line between friends and more.
Charles hummed a noncommittal sound, soft and fond like he always was around you. “I’ll do you one better. How about I play some music for you?”
“Yes, please. Thank you.” You sighed, relieved. He knew what you needed without you even having to ask.
You heard him get up, footsteps padding along until there was a thud and some shuffling coming from Charles’ side. A few warm up scales in and you were already feeling a little less anxious, letting yourself get comfortable.
“Any requests from the audience?”
“Been working on anything new?” You yawned, nuzzling a little deeper back into your pillow.
“I have, actually. It’s still—fuck, how do you say it…a work in progress?”
“Anything you play is perfect.”
“You flatter me.” He snorted. “Alright, here goes nothing.”
He began to play. You knew jack shit about music, so there wasn’t much you could think of to describe how it sounded, but you could describe how it felt. You could almost feel the emotion pouring from his playing, even through the scratchy quality of the speaker.
It felt like something you’d hear in the background of a movie montage, lilting and delicate and warm notes swirling together to create a bright melody, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.
Memories of good times with Charles flashed through your head—all the long days and even longer nights you’d spent together because you thrived in each other’s company, cooking together, binging Netflix shows until you both passed out on the sofa.
Hushed laughing during dinners at fancy restaurants that Charles could get into by flashing his name, soft conversations accompanied with expensive food and even more expensive wine.
Day trips up the coast with the top down on the car, pushing the speed limit just to feel an ounce of the freedom that it could give you. Walking through Monte Carlo on late night gelato runs, switching flavors because you both enjoyed each other’s choice more than your own.
Most of all, you thought of the love you felt for Charles, ever since you’d first met him. You’d never been one to believe in the concept of soulmates, but fuck, it was so easy to think of him as yours. Never had you felt as much for someone as you did for him.
God, why were you even thinking of those things?
It would never happen. Any love that Charles had for you would be strictly platonic, limited to however much one could love their best friend.
Surely he’d drawn inspiration from something else when he’d composed the beautiful piece. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know.
Soon enough, you’d drifted off like you always did when Charles played, coincidentally right before he came to a lingering stop.
Had you been awake, you would’ve heard him say that the beautiful piece had been inspired by you. Instead you were fast asleep, still none the wiser to anything. Maybe it was a good thing. You might not have believed it if you’d heard him.
-------
Charles was on your doorstep first thing in the morning, coffee and pastries in hand when you opened the door for him.
“Hello, good morning, your savior is here. And with breakfast!” He chirped, coming to just enough of a halt for you to slide an arm around his shoulders in a hug and grab one of the drinks out of the tray before he swept past you.
Bright morning sunlight poured into the open area, washing the whole place aglow. A warm breeze floated in through the ajar window, rattling the shutters only slightly, and you could hear the all too familiar sounds of the city in the morning coming from the streets below. It was a gorgeous picture of peace; one of the apartment’s many fun quirks that convinced you to go for it in the first place.
The only thing that might’ve rivaled the beauty of the moment was Charles standing at the window, leaning against the sill drinking his coffee while the breeze ruffled his hair. His back was to you as he checked out the view, but even the mere image of him here was nice.
You sipped your own coffee, smiling to yourself when you realized Charles remembered exactly how you took it. You didn’t even need to look inside the bag to know they were your favorite pastries from the bakery down the street from your former apartment that both you and Charles loved. He was always thoughtful like that. Things like remembering your favorite foods and drinks, and going out of his way to get them as a little pick-me-up.
It seemed wrong to ruin the moment, but you felt like you had to say something.
“I’m sorry for waking you up last night.” You sighed, taking a cross-legged seat on a pillow.
Charles turned away from the window, shaking his head quickly. He took a seat on the floor next to you, long legs stretching out towards your crossed ones to nudge a sneaker against your socked foot. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, I’m glad you called me.”
“Right, but it’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it? First time on my own and I didn’t even last a whole night.”
“Not pathetic.” He insisted, entirely firm in his words. He set his cup down as if it could strengthen his point. “It is a change, definitely. You can’t expect yourself to get used to such a big change immediately. It takes time, you know.”
You messed with the lid of your cup, picking at the plastic with a scowl. “I know. But I can’t always come running to you whenever I need help. It’s not fair to you to have to keep rescuing me every time I need saving.”
“Okay…” He trailed off, stretching out the last syllable in confusion. “I feel this is about something more than just last night. We can talk about it, if you would like?”
“I don’t know what it is.” You huffed. “I thought I was ready to be on my own, but maybe I’m not. Maybe I don’t know I’m doing and I’ll never figure it out, and—”
“Whoa, whoa, slow down. Where is this all coming from?”
“I don’t know,” You repeated, bordering on a whine. “But what I do know is that I can’t always keep relying on you for everything. It’s not good for me, or for you.”
“You know, you could always just move back home if you’re truly not ready to do things on your own.” Charles offered, taking a casual sip of his own drink.
Home. He said it so casually, like home was with him instead of this new place you’d chosen to make yours. In a way, Charles was your home. Safety, comfort, love—all the things that made something home, you felt with him.
That was the problem. You didn’t feel right relying on him for all those things, not without him being aware of how you actually felt about him. It seemed like too much of a burden to put on a friend, even one as perfect as Charles.
His eyes met yours over the rim and he shrugged. “I still don’t know why you were so insistent on moving out in the first place.”
You sighed, again. There weren’t many ways you could make yourself any clearer. Other than telling Charles one of the real reasons why you had to leave, which again, was more of a last resort (hopefully not at all) type of thing. “It was time—”
“It was time for you to venture out on your own, yes, I know. But it doesn’t seem to be working out so well right now, does it not?” The last sentence seemed to slip out of Charles’ mouth before he knew what he was saying, because his mouth snapped shut right afterward. “I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I don’t want to argue.”
But what had been done was done, what had been said was out there for you to know. Your coffee suddenly left a bitter taste in your mouth, and the traffic from outside became glaringly loud. The once peaceful atmosphere had been shattered now that you knew Charles’ true thoughts on it all.
You stood up, letting your feet take you across the room from him. “No. Tell me more, Charles. Tell me how you really feel.”
His nose wrinkled at the use of his full name. You never called him Charles unless you were upset with him, which wasn’t that often. Even hearing it come out of your own mouth seemed foreign.
That seemed to change his reaction, because he stood too instead, doubling down on his words. “Okay. Yes, that is how I feel about you leaving. You barely even talked to me about it, and the next thing I knew, you were packing all your things into boxes! I didn’t understand where this—this sudden desire to leave came from. I still don’t.”
“You don’t have to understand it. It’s already done.”
“Did I—did I do something wrong?”
You almost faltered. Almost.
“Did you ever think maybe me wanting to leave had nothing to do with you?”
“Honestly? No. It feels like it has everything to do with me. It feels like you moved out because you didn’t want to be around me anymore!” Charles exclaimed. “And I have kept my mouth shut, I’ve been trying to be supportive of your decision, but I think I have a right to know. Am I why you wanted to leave so badly?”
“That’s…part of it.” You admitted. Charles froze, brows flying up towards his hairline. “But not because of anything you did. Not because of the reason you’re thinking of.”
“I don’t really see any other explanation. And I am sorry, but that is a shit excuse. I would’ve thought that you of all people would tell me the truth.” He didn’t sound angry, just disappointed and a little hurt. Somehow that felt worse. You’d rather him be mad at you than hurt by you.
“I didn’t want to move out.” You said firmly.
“Then why did you?”
“I had to! I—I couldn’t live there anymore.”
“But why?” He sounded desperate, begging for you to clue him in to any reason, anything at all that would help him understand. And god, as scared as you were of changing things by telling Charles how you really felt about him, you were infinitely more scared of losing him for good if you didn’t.
“Because I’m fucking in love with you, Charles!” You blurted, finally. “I couldn’t live with you any longer, keeping this huge secret all the time, because it truly made me feel like I was about to explode. I just couldn’t do it anymore—pretend like everything was alright when every time I looked at you, all I could think about was how I felt about you! How much I felt for you.” Your voice rose with every word, emotion lacing your tone.
You could feel the tears burning your eyes, threatening to fall no matter how much you willed them not to. “I just thought, maybe if we lived apart, if we didn’t see each other all the time, maybe those feelings would go away.”
Charles blinked at you slowly. He scrubbed a hand over his cheek, across his mouth, letting it disappear into the neckline of his hoodie as he continued the motion near his jaw. Still, he said nothing. You weren’t sure if it was a good sign or a bad one, but still you continued.
“So no, it wasn’t because of anything you did. Or maybe it was, for making it so fucking easy to fall in love with you. I don’t know. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t say anything to me, but I’m not sorry for making the decision on my own. It was for the best.”
There it was, out there in the open at last. It felt like a proverbial weight lifted off your shoulders, but at the same time like a thousand rocks sinking to the bottom of your stomach, because he wasn’t saying anything. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was how you’d fuck up the best friendship you’d ever had.
Charles was silent for the longest time before he replied, and when he did, his voice was quieter than you’d ever heard it before. It felt unnerving. “You could’ve just told me.”
“Told you?” You had to fight the urge to let out a bitter, watery laugh. “Telling your best friend you’ve fallen in love with him isn’t just something you mention at the bathroom sink one night.”
“It is, if he feels the same way about you.”
A coldness crept down your neck, shooting through your veins like you’d just had a bucket of ice cold water dumped over your head.
“No you’re not—you don't...you can't.” You whispered, disbelieving.
Charles’ brows furrowed in confusion. “What, do you want me to prove it?”
You couldn’t give him an answer even if you wanted to. You weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to say a damn word, just in case this was all a dream and you'd wake up any second, still alone, still without him there.
He must’ve taken your silence as a yes to his question, because he crossed the room in three strides, took your face in firm hands, and he kissed you.
Despite your utter shock, you managed to kiss him back clumsily, fingers curling into his hoodie tightly. Charles kissed you like he was afraid to let you go, like you’d slip through his fingers if he wasn’t careful enough.
A guiding hand curled around the back of your neck, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss, but only for a few seconds before he broke away, panting. His forehead stayed pressed against yours, soulful green eyes boring into your own in total seriousness.
“Do you believe me now?”
“Maybe.” You breathed, letting your nose bump against his gently. This was not a dream. Charles was real and here and one hell of a kisser (just as you suspected).
“I am in love with you.” He murmured, stroking his thumb over your cheek fondly. “I have been for a long time. And I never thought you would feel the same way.”
“I love you, Cha.” You were suddenly brought back to last night, when you’d uttered the same words to him. Only this time, they had a whole different meaning to them.
This time, you knew Charles loved you in the same way you loved him.
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#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#cl16 x reader#charles leclerc x fem!reader#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc x you#cl16#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc one shot#truly this was only supposed to be like 2k words#this man invokes many emotions in me what can i say#if u made it this far into my tags hi hello i hope u enjoyed and thank u for reading! i appreciate u <3
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SECRET - A . DONALDSON
Sexual Content Ahead
Art Donaldson x Fem!ChubbyReader
Summary: Where you and Art are 'secretly' hooking up without your friends knowing.
Warnings: SMUT (18+), Born with barely any plot, Art is slightly pathetic in this, Reader loves a cheeky ass grab.
Note: This one is a quick one I rushed, because I'm writing a nice long Art fic for yall. So please enjoy this for now.
If you told yourself 3 years ago that you'd be sat on some bleachers watching tennis you wouldn't believe it.
You were never interested in tennis, you knew about it obviously but it was never your thing.
You came to Stanford as an international student due to the fat scholarship you recieved so you packed your bags from London to California.
That is where you met Tashi Duncan, your best friend. She introduced herself to you one day in the library after hearing you tap away to the music playing in your headphones. It was a close call, she saved you from another warning from the librarian.
Tashi and you were inseparable. Learning about eachother more you discovered she played tennis and was quite well known but you had no clue. She found this a breath of fresh air as everyone knew of her some how. She put it down to the fact your from a different country additionally to your lack of interest of the sport.
Tashi coaxed you to come watch her warm ups and games - which you did being a great friend. But you sported to opening your sketchbook and sketching out the scene infront of you additionally. Might aswell do a research project on human posing and what better sport that tennis.
After your first semester you noticed Tashi always hanging out with this tall lanky man. He seemed nice but, you'd never seen him around. She told you he was her 'thing' which made you both laugh over lunch one time. She had mentioned he will be around alot more and he has a friend and that's when you met Art Donaldson, and well. The rest is history.
It had been a good year since you met Patrick and Art and you four were now a little quad. Despite the three of them being raging tennis players and you just sat on the side line they didn't mind.
You did try to take up a sport but it just wasn't for you, after Tashi found you face down in a bush after a 100m sprint.
You were watching Art play against someone from another University - you weren't listening to their name though.
Tashi and Patrick sat beside you, gasping and groaning, cheering and whooping at what was going on in the game but you only knew so much.
In the year you've known Art, you two had a great bond and tend to.. dip into eachothers bonds from time to time. You had no clue if Tashi or Patrick knew about your occasional flings with Art, you both never aired it nor got caught it just happened sometimes.
But as of late, you can't take your eyes off him. The way his shorts ride up his muscly thighs as he jumps from one end of the court to the other. The way his hair bounces but also sticks to his forehead due to his sweat. You were slightly obsessed.
You wouldn't say you had feelings for him, it never got deep enough for that. But you craved him. You craved every single inch of him and how he'd just melt into your hand.
"COME ON!!" You jump slightly as you were ripped out of your daydream as Tashi flew up beside you screaming as you looked at Art celebrating on the court.
You smiled, standing up and clapping as you grabbed everyone's coats and bags as Tashi and Patrick dashed off to see Art.
Climbing down the stairs was tricky balancing everything but as soon as you saw Tashi and Patrick bust through the door of the court as they piled onto Art you smiled. Walking towards them as you put down the stuff.
Art turned to you smiling, walking up to you and pulling you in for a hug. It wasn't unusual just took you off guard.
"We should celebrate! Let's go out for dinner" Tashi smiled.
"I love a good dinner" You smiled as they all chuckled at you.
You got changed for the dinner into a little black dress, you can never go wrong with it. Tashi texted you earlier her and Patrick will be late - which you assumed they were fucking in his car yet again. Dinners cancelled you assumed.
You walked over to Arts dorm, knocking on the door as it swung open to reveal a slightly disheaved Art as he stared at you. Shirtless and in the tightest pair of shorts ever.
"Did you forget we are going to dinner-"
"No- I was just.. working out" He spoke slightly.
You looked him up and down, a knowing smirk on your face.
"You can't hide it from me" You laughed. Art's face contorted as he looked at you confused as you swiped your hand over the very obvious bulge in his boxers before walking past him into his room.
He doubled over, groaning as he shut the door as you laughed, sitting on his desk chair.
"I thought Tashi was taking you to the restaurant?" He dove onto his bed, laying on his stomach as he scrunched a pillow up at leaned against it looking at you. God he looked so pathetic. Ass up and everything.
"Seems she got preoccupied with Patrick, I got this" You pulled up the text and turned it around to show Art.
"We definitely won't make it to the restaurant now" He laughed.
You stood up, dropping your bag on the chair as you walked over to Art, sitting by his head as he looked up at you.
"What do you wanna do then?" You caressed his cheek, smiling down at him.
"I have a few ideas.." His head turned to kiss your palm as his lips made its way up your arm till he was on his knees infront of you.
You stared at him blankly, sucking in your bottom lip as you took in the situation. You both paused for a brief moment staring at eachother.
You leaned in, kissing him roughly as your hands dropped to his back, pulling him closer as his hands slid up the back of your dress as he squeezed your ass. One thing about Art he loved your ass.
The pair of you tumbling with one another as you yanked down his boxers slightly as the back, grabbing a chunk of his ass with his hand as you sucked onto his tongue. A soft moan leaving his lips as you yanked down his boxers completely rolling over as you caged him below you.
"Mm- want you- s'bad" You pulled at his lip as you sucked on it, grinding down against his bare cock as you reached to pull your dress off in one swift motion.
"Fuck- good girl-" He groaned as he unclasped your bra throwing it off as he pulled your neck and pulled you back into another kiss. It was passionate but needy. The way his tongue slipped in and out of your mouth had you yearning for more. You reached down to wriggle out of your panties as you kicked them off to the side before you held the base of his dick. Running it between your slit as you gasped, pulling away from the kiss.
You bit your lip, sighing as you bucked your hips against his tip. Your hands sliding up over your breasts as you peered down at him. "You piss me off how fucking hot you are. Why are you so fucking hot" You groaned, grinding down harder against him as he harshly gasped.
"Shut up" He whined lightly as he grabbed your hip, lifting you up so he could grab his cock and curve it up towards your entrance as he dropped you down against his abdomen as his cock slipped up inside of you. "Fuck-" You both yelped in unison.
You peered down at him, chuckling softly as you let out soft moans as you rocked back and forth against him. "Oh fuck-" You grit your teeth as your hand slid down his chest as you rocked back and forth. Your thighs slightly twitching as your eyes threatened to roll back.
"Such a good girl f'me aren't you" He smirked, sliding a hand up overs your stomach. This was something Art tended to do. You knew you were chubbier that other girls you'd seen him with before but he was definitely into it. His smile grew as he slid them further up to grip your breast as he squeezed and toyed with it.
You smirked down at him, leaning forward slightly, pecking his lips as your ass rebounded against his abdomen as you dropped down on him continously as you rode him.
"Good.." You spoke with breathy moans as light whines escaped Art's lips as he stared into your eyes. It was pathetic. He was pathetic. The way his eyes watched you.
His hands dropped from your breasts, gripping onto the plush of your thighs as he whined slightly, spreading his legs below you.
You could feel his hips thrusting up into your for more, as you bit your lip moaning lightly. "Yessss~ fuck. Art- s-so good" You yelped as his hands gripped your waist before flipping you onto your back. The movement shocked you but the second he got his balance he began to piston into you.
You reached back, grabbing the headboard of the bed as you yelped. Whines and moans pouring from your mouth as Art demolished you. His hips slamming into you. His balls slapping into your ass as the bed creaked below the pair of you. One of his hands, gripping at a chunk of your thigh as his thumb caressed against the skin. The other, reaching for one of yours as your fingers interlocked with one another.
You reached forward grabbing his ass harshly with your free hand, as you squeezed it, looking up at him, biting your lip.
His mouth ghosting over yours as he let out soft whines and groans - just like he does in tennis. Fuck do you love the sounds he makes when he's playing fucking tennis...
"Yes- Fuck Art please.. Harder" you groaned, your hand removing from his as they both flew to his back, your nails scratched down it as he pounded harder into you.
His groans got louder and needier, as his hands returned to your chunk sides, his fingers dug harder into your hip. His thrusts became sloppier, you knew he was close.
Art threw your legs over his shoulders as he slammed back into you. A guttural moan yelping from your throat as you shrieked, his pace quickening as you whined. Your nails digging into his shoulder as your back arched down against him as your eyes rolled back as you drew closer to your climax.
He knew you were close abd so was he. He continue to pump into you as fast as he could till you both came undone. Both cumming together, his head hung low as he watched a mixture of your releases create a ring at the bottom of his cock as he thrusted a few more times, dragging the pair of you through the high.
"Fuck-" He groaned as he pulled out, biting his lip as he leaned back on his legs as he stared down at you panting.
You looked at the disheaved boy infront of you, you couldn't help but let out a breathy chuckle as he panted.
"S'good as always" You smiled, sitting up as you pecked his lips.
Art leaned forward, kissing you deeper as his hand snaked around your neck, pulling you closer as he kissed you. You hummed softly, your tongue swiping over his lips as the kiss grew more heated.
Before the pair of you could even consider a second round a loud string of knocks banged against the door.
The two of you pulled away and froze. Your hand pressed against his chest, your other frozen as you stroked his cock. His hands cupping your face as the pair of you just stared at each other.
After a while no knocks were heard so you were going to continue till another string of loud knocks.
"Fuck" You hissed as the pair of you both stood up, grabbing your clothes as you tried to quickly dress.
Your dress nowhere to be seen amongst the large pile of clothes. "Art where the fuck is my dress-" You whispered shouted.
"Shhh!-" He quipped. You grabbed his dress shirt he was wearing off the floor and threw it on over your underwear. He was scrambling around the room looking for his shirt when he looked at you wearing it.
He quickly pulled on his trousers and opened his wardrobe for a tshirt as he stumbled to the door. You stood behind him.
You don't know what you both expected or who you expected to be behind the door. But the colour drained from both of your faces as the door revealed your two friends.
"I texted you Y/N that we were outside 10 minutes ago but I can see you were occupied" Tashi raises her eyebrow, a sickly smirk across her face.
You gulped as you stared at her, smiling awkwardly.
"Tash- did you figure out where Y/N was-" Patrick's voice could be heard down the hall as he gained closer to the door. Stopping behind Tashi as he stared at you and Art. "Fucking knew it" He laughed.
#challengers#challengers art donaldson#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art x reader#art donaldson smut#tashi duncan#patrick zweig#mike faist#angelfrombenethfics
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@penroseparticle, this one's for you.
Pick a country (for occasionally loose definitions of "country") song from a bad description! You do not need to recognize the song from the description, although one of them is very very very very very obvious this time. Go by the vibes. Go for what makes you chuckle or sounds intriguing. Follow your heart.
At the end of the week, I will post a playlist with all the songs in order, from the song with the least amount of votes to the song with the most amount of votes. If you would like to hear the playlist but don't want to put a lot of effort into it, leave a comment or put it in the tags on your reblog and I'll tag you. If you really just need to know about a specific song and don't want to wait, shoot me an ask and I'll answer.
And please reblog! It's time to make your mutuals listen to some straight-up (maybe not that straight) country music for a change. Especially that one. You know the one.
#polls#music#playlists#apparently this unlocked something in me i don't think i've ever pulled a list together this fast#this one might honestly get a extended version there's a lot of good artists not on here#but anyway thank you for the inspo colton this was a fun thing to pull together on a day off#i literally had three great descriptions by 10 am i've been cackling about them all day
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OPEL ASTRA - JOOST KLEIN
SUMMARY: it's a good thing finding an inspiration to your song in your everyday things. what is not a good thing is that your friends shouldn't change your work if you like it.
PAIRING: joost klein x fem!reader
GENRE: fluff
WORD COUNT: +/- 600
WARINGS: none:3
AUTHOR'S NOTE: hai:3 sorry it took so long but there are really lot of requests in my inbox and im trying my best at keeping up with them. this was based on this and that request. hope you like it!.
“I’m still not so sure about this,” Aggu said, pointing at some lines that were displayed on the computer. Y/N only sighed and put her fingers at the piano keyboard again.
She changed some notes and words, hoping it would satisfy her friend but unfortunately it wasn't enough. You can say that she was pissed, but she was really trying her best not to say anything. The song was okay, what didn't he like about it?
“Aggu stop, it's okay, I like it, you don't have to, it's just not your song” the girl said and then the door opened and Joost entered the room with beers in his hands. He quickly gave them the drinks and leaned against the desk, where Y/N was sitting. She knew him for the last two hours, but he was such a cute guy.
“What’s going on?” Joost asked, looking at Aggu and Y/N. One glance at Aggu’s face was enough for him to know that he didn't like something in the song. “Play it” he told her and she only sighed, expecting another complaint that the song wasn't enough. She pressed the play button and placed her head at the desk. She was so tired at that moment. She just wanted to lay in her bed and play guitar for some time or gossip with her best friend.
Joost enjoyed listening to her song. It was really catchy and he wanted to dance really bad.
“I like it,” he said with a smile. He clapped her shoulder, as if he was trying to tell her not to think about Aggu without words.
“But something is missing here, don't you think?” the Germanman asked, looking at his friend. Joost only furrowed, looking at blondeman.
“Nah, not really,” Joost said. “Do you like it, Y/N?” he asked the girl, who was looking at the monitor with empty eyes.
“No. Those lines are shit” she said about the lines she changed earlier, because of Aggu. “It was better earlier,” she added. Joost encouraged her to show him what it sounded earlier and only smiled, when he heard her own version.
“It sounds more like you, you know” he said, making her blush a little. “I think this one is better,” he added.
Aggu only rolled his eyes and stopped his attempts to change anything.
“Why don't you add some guitar before the bridge?” Joost proposed, after again listening to the song. “It will be even more in your style” he said and took a sip of his beer.
“You’ve listened to my music?” the girl asked, looking at him. Of course she listened to him, he was such a great artist. But him listening to her bunch of shit? No, it couldn't be.
“Sure, “Opel Astra” is my favourite” he announced with a chuckle. Y/N only blushed more. “Opel Astra” wasn't a very popular song of hers (actually none of them was) so it meant that he had to listen to her music for longer. It was so lovely.
“I like it too,” she said.
“Do you wanna sing in one of my songs? I really need something like you do, it's a true need” Joost said at some point as they were sitting on the patio and eating pizza with everyone.
“Really?” Y/N asked only and he only nodded. “We can do something tomorrow” she said and his smile only grew bigger.
“Thanks” he said only, making her blush a little.
The next day was going to be very, very interesting and full of guitar solos for sure.
masterlist
#discopaddock#joost klein fanfic#joost klein imagine#joost klein x reader#joost klein x you#joost klein fluff#joost klein angst
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im BEGGING for some joost hurt to comfort!! something like hes having a bad day and when the reader tries to help him hes js so overwhelmed he snaps at the reader but like in the end they make up and stuff
Valentine, my decline is so much better with you.
I love love love hurt to comfort!! This goes hand in hand with another request I had! That being said, go give your loved ones a hug and tell them you love them.
requested? yes!
reader? gender neutral!
genre? hurt to comfort, arguing, eventual fluff
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
"Fuck!"
The cursing coming from the other end of your apartment today couldn't be counted on both hands anymore. Joost was two days away from releasing a single he wasn't even happy with as of now.
A few months ago you decided to finally move in together and since both of you had rather stable jobs, looking for an extra room to get your boyfriend a studio at home made sense. It gave him the chance to really focus on his music at a a place he felt comfortable at, and on top he could always ask for your opinion on something, if you weren't currently at work, where you wish you would be at right now. You decided to only take a short shift today, wanting to get home and relax, but your boyfriend had been tense the whole day, which you really didn't blame him for, but you knew he was a perfectionist when it came to his music. He had a bad habit of being rather unresponsive whenever he was really focusing on his work, meaning a tab on the shoulder while he had loud music blaring through his headphones, with his computer screen being a mess of snippets and recordings for a song, it would totally send him over the edge of sensory overload. Today was one of those days where it seemed really bad for him. He fed himself into a hole of hating a perfectly good, soon to be released, single and now he was stuck in a loophole of fixing things that didn't need to be fixed, being satisfied with them, and then when listening to it again, suddenly hating the entire thing. You have tried to offer him your help or comfort several times today, but he always declined it, yet seemed grateful for your care. It got so bad that you had to pull his chair out of the room for him to come eat dinner with you, and only if you could eat while laying on the couch so he could cuddle with you, which he desperately needed today.
You were in no way upset with him or this situation, at least not for the reasons one might be, but instead the fact that he had promised both himself and you to stop listening to upcoming releases three days prior to the date they were supposed to come out, because that was the time where his brain decided to convince him half of what he just created over months was absolute shit. There was nothing you could really do to help him, except make sure he at least remembered his basic needs like eating and sleeping.
You tried to calm yourself down and try not to worry too much about him, taking a deep breath before you heard anything curse word coming from his studio, followed by a loud shatter, and rather quiet whimpers which convinced you to go check on him one more time. When you opened the door you managed to figure out what happend- he knocked over a glass and it seemed to have cut his finger just a little. "Hun, are you okay? Let me help you." you quickly grab a few tissues to place on his finger as you tried to calm him down but he seemed to have been pushed over the edge completely with this. "I don't need your help! I told you, I dont want help, I don't need it, I am perfectly fine! Please just stop interrupting me for fucks sake." the first thing he said to you in hours and its you getting yelled at for trying to help the poor overworked man? You throw the rest of the tissues at Joost for him to care for his own issues now. "Deal with it yourself." you ended up leaving him right where we was, trying to hold back tears as you let yourself fall onto your bed, wanting to scream into the nearest pillow. This wasn't a side you knew from him, because he really never got mad at you. As much as you wanted not to have to blame him, this was beyond unnecessary.
The tears start flowing, your hands clutched against the pillow as you curl up on your side of the bed. You weren't necessarily crying about being yelled at, you were a tough one afterall, but more so the fact that he worries you so much and what you get for offering help ends up being disrespect.
You were barely even awake a few hours later, having spent the evening by scrolling through various social media apps just to distract yourself. Right when you decided to stop waiting for your boyfriend and head to sleep, you felt the dip in the mattress next to you, meaning Joost had decided to finish for today. He turns arond to face you, or more so your back, to carefully brush some hairs out of your face, allowing you to feel the new bandaid on his finger. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you." he eventually huffed, his voice quiet enough not to disturb you, even though you clearly weren't asleep. His voice was raspy, barely even audible- maybe from crying, maybe from recording vocals all day. Slowly, you turn back around to face him, your hands holding onto the blanket. "I got lost in the single and broke our promise. You just wanted to help but I was so overwhelmed and then it just all tipped over- I'm really sorry." Joost rubs his eyes as he finishes his sentence, the tear stains quite obvious on his face. You only wrap your arms around him to pull yourself close to him, feeling the need for being close. "It was unnecessary but it happens to everyone some times... Thank you for apologising."
With that, you fell victim to being covered in kisses.
JOOOOST IS BAAAAACK
anyways i hope this was good xoxo
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Before I Leave You (Pt.70)
(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)
Summary: The one where the pack goes on a group bender.
Tags: Fluff, only a little hurt mostly just comfort, scenting, bathing, drinking, drunk characters, recovery from past abused, nightmares, trans! tae, dress up, girl on girl fluff, omegaspace, themes of forgiveness, vomiting, eating disorder mention but everything's good, Brief implied sexual content, Talks of mental disorders, murder,
W/c: 12.6k
Note: The part where it links to a playlist on youtube may be a little distracting if you do not like to read with loud music on! feel free to skip it and then go back to listen to it <3 although it is not the first song in the playlist- hot to go by chappell roan is the unofficial official song of the chapter <3
Previous part - Masterlist - First part
The pack spends the next three days getting drunk off their asses and trying their hardest to forget the last 3 weeks. Everything since you and Hobi found that body at the beach all those weeks ago.
There are no police officers at the door, no red and blue lights that cloud the air, or tense words spat between you. No plans devilish or delightful. Sometimes there are thin bands of sunlight that slip through the blinds and that's a big event. Other times- the big kitchen light shines brighter than any sun. Daytime and nighttime blend and blur together until you’re not sure what day it is or how many days it’s been since all of you became free.
Freedom. It feels like a dirty word.
Young, drunk, and honest, the days blend together. Drinking away the last few weeks might not be the best move, neither the healthiest nor the most productive decision to drink yourselves dizzy until it doesn’t matter that there’s a person buried in your basement, that Jin shot Jimin, or that you almost left them. The truth of love is clean compared to what you might do, what you have done- for the people you love.
For once no one judges, no one cuts you off after one or three or five drinks because it's too much for a pup like you. No one even stops Jungkook from getting giggly from champagne and drinking more than his seizures would normally allow. You deserve it, a few nights of fun, a few nights to live like the 20-somethings that you all are without the weight of trying to survive and secrets weighing you down.
It’s okay, if Jungkook has a seizure that will be the least of your worries.
The hours blend and blur. Jin submits his resignation paperwork for the FBI and has a quick video call with the director, the rest of the pack tries to be quiet but fails several times (once when namjoon pops a bottle of champagne and hits himself in the face with a flying cork, and again when he and Yoongi clink their glasses and predictably break them on accident sending champagne all over the floor. it's not the first glass that breaks that night but it is the first one that makes Jin laugh.)
You and Jungkook lay sprawl across his lap, just out of sight and giggling every few minutes. nuzzling under Jin's shirt to scent his sensitive stomach. Your fingers play with Jungkook's on Jin's hips, and you teeth listlessly at the soft skin just above his belly button, just so that you don't speak or let out an embarassingly needy whine. His hands and long fingers card through your hair and shushing your laughter just barely. Jin doesn't have the heart to tell anyone not to laugh, especially after the last few days no- Jin will drink down every bit of it.
The glass of very good and expensive wine in his hands just out of view of the camera lens, also gets drunk down, and very quick. Yoongi pauses to refill it once Jin's done, he drinks the second glass slower.
Hobi and Namjoon fill out their paperwork for emergency rut leave. Jimin doesn’t have to, already on emergency medical leave and cleared for his bodyguard job till the end of the month when spring will turn the ground lucid and heavy sweet. The winter won't be long now, although the cold pushes at the window and makes Yoongi put the thermostat up high just so that you can all lounge around in your pajamas and fuzzy socks.
Heat and rut leave, even though no one's in a rut or heat. You don't mind lying and abusing the system just this once. You just can’t think about leaving the house just yet. You need a few days to settle all of your instincts and remember that being alive- that surviving is a good thing. That surviving and being together is even better.
It feels like a good thing. It feels like this is the first deep breath you’ve taken in a long long while. Since long before Yoongi maybe- if you’re being honest.
You know you must be irritating your neighbors with the music- but it’s worth it when you get to sit on the counter and watch Yoongi and Hobi bicker over the playlist. Which song is better, which one has the better backtrack, the better lyrics, and the better vibe.
A big black block speaker sits on the kitchen island bumping and although Hoseok and Yoongi might be fighting, they're leaning further into each other with every over-exaggerated scoff like a pair of magnets. it might be midnight, it might be 4am, but no ones sleeping yet. you know too well what waits you when you close your eyes. The nightmares that will plauge all of you, so you keep them open.
It's kinda fun to watch them flirt, It's kinda your favorite thing to watch actually. sitting there on the counter sipping at your drink.
You stay close to Hobi just incase. He hasn't showed any sort of evidence of falling apart from seeing moonbyul yet, but you're ready and waiting if he needs you.
The long socks you wear have trouble staying up to your mid-thigh, thick and cozy, and falling down around your knee as you sit on the countertop, feet dangling and swinging as you look between Hobi and Yoongi. Jimin toys with them, pulling up and pulling down. Happy with the sensation of it. He's equally as entertained by the way that Yoongi and Hobi fight, half joking- half really not.
After the kind of fights you've had recently, you'll take it.
“Fuck you and your love for fucking tambourines- this song is not that good-” Your feet swish and Hobi bens in to peck your forehead and sneak a sip of your drink. You like them sweet and Jin's made each one extra sugary for you.
You don't know where Jin got the mini paper umbrellas from- but Hoseok has a red one tucked behind his ear and a green one in his drink, the same as your yellow one. They litter the kitchen counter along with the juiced rinds of lemons and limes and other mixers that the pack is chasing with their alcohol.
"Oh! Try it Tae, this is like- so you and so so pink" Tae tries your drink too, bending down to sip at it counter level and you watch Jimin swallow hard and fidget. he's so enthralled with the sight of her bending over and sucking that he misses her sneaky hand creeping around to his backside, pinching so hard he jumps.
Hoseok laughs and then does the same to Yoongi. "Oh my god what the fuck-" He's indignant, but Hoseok tugs him back to his side by his belt buckle.
Tae's eyes are nearly comically wide, she asks you what you're drinking, hand on your knee, fiddling with the ribbon on your socks. “I’ve never had a Miami vice before.”
Jimin’s growl is a near thing, a near purr, makes you giggle and tip into him, happy. “I’ll make you one babygirl.”
"Wait!" Tae snags Jimin around the waist before he sinks off to get her one, and even you can see the blush on his cheeks. It's a good sign, Jimin is recovering well from all the blood he lost.
"Help me sit on the counter first?"
Jimin had in fact, heaved you up there when you'd asked to sit, not that you couldn't get up there on your own- but the alpha’s like to do little things like that for you. Tae can definitely do it herself too but Jimin stoops to grip under her thighs, eye contact with her never ceasing, and almost drops her when she takes the chance to kiss him fully on the mouth and you giggle again.
Yoongi glances over at you, at the sound, and your giggle cuts off. cheeks the mirror of Jimin's.
The discomfort passes like it was never there, like he didn't look for the sound, like he's not keenly aware of just how many steps it would take to cross the room and kiss you firmly on the mouth. Yoongi's thinking all sorts of silly things like that.
It's not silly, it's not silly at all- Yoongi is just not quite sure how angry he is.
Yoongi’s all puffed up, swaying but somehow holding onto his whiskey. The counter digs into his hip where he leans and flips his hair like he doesn't know that Hobi's watching. Like Hobi's not biting his lip and staring. It's easier to look at Hobi than it is to look at you- easier to want Hobi than it is to want you right now. Easier to bicker and flirt than to actually initiate anything.
(Yoongi never did like sex or love when he's drunk, he's only ever loved love sober, drinking makes him- stumbly- less articulate than he likes, more rambly. Like his body and his mind are at two seperate tempo's and they won't mix).
“Like you’re any better with your fucking cowbell fixation. It does not add that much to a track."
“Hey! I am a millennial thank you very much, that was like such a meme when I was in high school- like people had shirts with that on it”
their bickering is funny and it’s so much nicer than almost drowning, than fighting. Jimin’s stitches are still tender but you burrow into the front of his chest, hiding your face from view. Peeking over his shoulder to watch Yoongi and Hobi.
Your mate tips his head, spits it almost vicious and slurry, “And I bet you had one of those fucking shirts, You and your fucking memes, just because a song has cowbell in it doesn't make it a good song-”
Hoseok grins, teeth sharp looking and smelling so heady and rich that you tip your neck to the side, presenting your scent gland for Jimin and Tae to burrow into, between the two of them in a alpha sandwich.
"You thinking about my shirt hyung? It's made of boyfriend material you know."
Jin laughs from the couch in approval and tae groans but Yoongi's hand tangles with the front of Hoseok's shirt, black, generic. Pulling him closer so harshly that hoseok genuinely looks startled for a second. "I am thinking about your shirt- how it would look on my fucking floor."
Jungkook swishes around his Miami vice from the couch, calling over to your little cuddle puddle, "Does anyone know what they're talking about?"
Jin pipes up, almost undistinguishable from where he's pressed between Joonie and the couch cushion. "Are they angry at each other or trying to fuck?"
"Both?"
"Both."
You sigh at the same moment Tae nearly swoons, "Let them be."
"It's sort of hot to watch them argue," you agree.
“You and your fucking memes” Yoongi spits again, half a laugh, so in love that he purses his lips to keep from saying it and ruining the (admittedly fake) argument.
He pushes hoseok up agains the center island, lips colliding with his so sloppy and yet with so much love behind them that you see Hobi's knees go weak a little, watch your mates lips work in the way you are only too familiar with blushing and still peeking. As Hoseok's red hair mizes with Yoongi's black and Hoseok kisses back with just as much tension, finally snapping. Yoongi's hands on his hips. Kissing just to kiss. Pulling apart with a laugh because,
"Did you just fucking bite me?"
"And i'll do it again if you don't admit that my song is better than yours." They go back to kissing, and no one pays them heed.
Jimin’s scent swells sweeter and Tae touches the top of your head, long fingers threading through and long nails scratching gently behind your ears.
"Feeling small pup?" She asks, all quiet and fond with it. Prepared to wisk you away upstairs or into the library room if you need a second of quiet, a second of less stimulation so settle you. you're a little quiet, a little less verbal- something she's come to expect from you in omegaspace.
You shake your head, words escaping you, eyes stuck on her fluffy sweater, the kind of mohair that leaves a pretty white halo, her shorts are more bloomers, ruffled at the hem and dove colored, the same color as your socks. Coordinating. Tae dressed you and she wanted couples outfits. Your hands fix on her sweater sleeves and you pet them once, twice, still shaking your head.
"You sure?" Tae's lips quirk and you know that she doesn't believe you in the slightest. You press a kiss to her lips, slow soft, near reverent with how gentle you are with it. Her pupils dilate, and Jimin's' growl rumbles all the way to your fingertips.
"M'okay, just a little sleepy but not like- sleepy sleepy yet." it is nearing 3 in the morning. Jimin's arms tighten around you protective and a little possessive, Tae's eyes go from your face to his. Apparently, she's learned a thing or two from Yoongi and Hobi because her tone is dripping with false displeasure.
“Stealing my pup from me Minnie?” She taunts, and you shiver at the sound of her voice, low, the most normal it’s sounded in days. You’d almost forgotten what it sounded like when Tae teased.
Jimin seems to have forgotten too, because he doesn't seem to understand that she's teasing, bullying you, nearly pushing you further into her with how quick he seeks to hand you over. “Never.” He says softly, quietly. Like every syllable she says is treasured. It is.
“Hey!” Jin flops over the edge of the couch. Jungkook and Namjoon near his feet. All but kissing up his thighs. Namjoon says something low and Jungkook giggles, almost tossing himself into the pack alpha’s shoulder. “Hey! If anyone is anyone’s pup, they’re- hic- mine!”
Jin only manages to be serious for a second before he flinches, laughing and hiccuping again as Namjoon’s fingers dig into the meat of his heal. A carefully orchestrated reminder as the pack omega squirms and shrieks at the ticklish feeling. Swaying and almost toppling from the couch. You don’t think you’ve seen Jin look so young, act so young- in weeks. He ends up on the floor with Jungkook on top of him, blowing raspberries against his neck with a loud rippling noise.
Your hands are healing slowly and Hobi’s bruises around his neck are beginning to yellow. The bruises on the back of Tae’s head have faded from painful to touch tender. You touch her there, oh so gently. Touching her hair as she touches yours, leaning into each other and giggling, touching, loving gently. Jimin watches blinking owlishly. Fingers flexing on the countertop.
Other wounds have faded that way too. Yoongi scoffs and turns to you. They've been lost in their own little world. Yoongi has his long hair in a top knot, his white teeshirt is so long it almost hides his shorts below. If basketball shorts could be coquettish- Yoongi would pull it off. The loose pieces of his hair fluff softly over his forehead as he huffs.
“Okay. You can be the tiebreaker- which one’s better? This one or the song I showed earlier?”
Both of them look at you expectantly- watching and waiting, Tae curls a lock of your hair around her finger syrupy slow as you pause for a second. You turn to Yoongi already apologetic, “Okay- but Russian house music is like- kinda really really cool-”
Your mate groans and all but smacks his head on the counter. “Oh come on!” Hoseok pumps his fist and almost hip-checks Yoongi across the kitchen. Your mate pouts, crossing his arms.
“Come on- epic high is a classic.”
“Admit it hyung- she likes my playlist better than yours.”
At least Yoongi is sort of talking to you again. Sort of getting over it minute by minute. It’s hard. Namjoon watches you from where he's sprawled on the couch, holding a near-empty bottle of champagne by the neck while Jungkook and Jin wrestle on the floor, sort of making out, sort of scenting each other as they go. Jimin requests a song that Tae would like- and then Yoongi and Hoseok lean over Yoongi's phone to make her the perfect playlist. Happy to have something new and mundane to bicker over.
(Happy Pink Pup Time ▷ Play playlist?)
Morning is just cresting over the rooftops and the music is just turned down when Namjoon gets up from the couch, slowly, dizzy. You're perched on the counter in your pj's watching Jimin and Jungkook chase each other around the room. The need to scent and wrestle and get all your restless energy out near palpable.
Hoseok and Jungkook have a tiny paper drink umbrella tucked behind their ears, the same one that Jin stuck in your drinks so that you can keep track of whose drink is whose. He and Jungkook gang up on Jimin to stick one into his hair, the tiny little baby bun that Tae tied to match Yoongi.
You giggle as Jungkook gives up and just loops his arms around Jimin's neck, no technique to it and all body weight dragging the three of them to the floor. Sprawled next to the library room door, now open. Tae’s makeup collection spread out on the green shaggy carpet like the fallen petals of some red flowering tree. Nothing hidden in the room anymore, the lock will go unused forever.
It changes from wrestling to tickling and then the three of them are getting up and surrounding Yoongi, a paper umbrella in their fingers, he takes it all with a huff and a surprisingly whiney, “guys.”
You still when Namjoon walks over, the same way you'd still if a wild animal were approaching. He doesn't settle close, just stands next to you and pours himself the last melted bit of the drink in the blender. Pink and yellow swirling delicately. He makes a noise in his throat and looks at you like he hasn’t barely said a word to anyone in the whole last 24 hours, hasn’t barely said a word to you since you got off the phone with him and Moonbyul left the house.
You sip at your drink, lips pursed around the straw and when you're done, Namjoon takes it from you and puts it on the counter. You think at first that he might be cutting you off but then he stares at the gauze around your hands.
"I should probably check these." You nod obedient, wordless, unsure what to say, you let him take your hands.
Fingers prodding at the red skin, delicate but knitting itself together slowly. “How much do they hurt?” He asks. Eyes downturned, looking at them, not you.
“Probably a two,” you rate, almost without thinking. His eyelashes still cling together from salt. Face glossy. You want to wash his face, blot across his cheeks gently the way that Jin does after you've been crying (something that you admittedly do a lot- the pack's resident crybaby).
Namjoon sighs heavily, "So should I consider that a four or-"
"No, this time I'm being honest." Namjoon stills, "It doesn't hurt when I touch stuff unless I'm not careful." Being honest about your hurts and pains has never been easy for you. But Namjoon has shown you time and time again that he's willing to take your hurts and fix them. You have no reason not to tell him the truth.
Namjoon grips your palm, turning it over his hands again and again, looking down at your love line lifeline all tangled there before leveling you with a look that is neither angry nor resigned.
He holds your hand, “Do you notice?” He asks. You swallow, eyes itchy.
“Notice what?” His finger presses to the center of your palm, the hollow there.
“Still dry,” He says.
You think of the mice. Of drowning. You don't pull your hand from Namjoon's grasp, but you know he wouldn't Let you anyway.
You think about the mice. Of dying. Of trying to stay dry despite the things that try to swallow you whole. Water is not gentle, water is hungry. The rain pitters against the dark glass and melts the snow outside. But you and Namjoon and the rest of the pack are dry and warm and safe in here.
Your breath hitches, but you close your fingers around his hand and nod. Your heels hook around the back of his knees, pulling him closer to you. “Still dry.” You agree.
Namjoon closes his eyes and breaks the tension and this distance between you. Letting you pull him between your thighs properly where you sit on the kitchen counter. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders to tug you to his chest, and breathing deep in the hollow of your throat.
He pulls back just as abruptly. Hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs. All up in your space and sour-smelling. It takes great effort for you not to turn away and keep his piercing eye contact.
“Don’t do something like that again. Ever.” His jaw rolls and his scent spikes angry. But it's all temporary as you nose under his jaw to soothe him. Namjoon has every right to be angry with you for leaving, the same way Yoongi does.
“Never. Promise.” You hold out your pinky and you mean it.
Namjoon looks at you for a second, staring you down, waiting for you to look away. But then after a pregnant second, he loops his pinky through.
~-~
Eventually, you get drunk enough to play dress up with Tae’s collection of designer clothes. You wake up sleepy and pupish, Namjoon and Jungkook guide you to the dressing room before youre really awake.
"Sorry to wake you, Tae just needed-" you make a sleepy soft noise, nuzzling into Namjoon's throat when they hand him off to you.
Instead of getting pulled into pajamas you get Tae and the dressing room, almost her whole collection of dresses taken out of their careful organization. piles and piles of clothes on the floor, and a silk scarf keeps her hair back from her face.
Gold eye patches on her under eyes that slide off when Jin tries to drag her in for a morning scent mark to soothe her. Tae's anxious, you can smell it on the air, distracting and sharp, you squirm and Namjoon sets you on the floor. "Sorry pup, Tae's just-"
Tae's cheeks were wet, frustrated holding a slip in her hands. sniffling softly. She'd looks at you a little guilty, looking down at you in the middle of her tornado and nearly burst into tears,
"I don't have anything to wear."
Hugging Tae is always so easy, easier when she needs your comfort. you're sleepy, but this is something you'd know how to do even in your sleep- loving her properly has always been so easy. Jimin stands silent and fidgety in between the hollow of her closet obviously having handed her dress after dress to try and soothe her.
"Jimin, give me that dress and that Crinolin."
"The blue one?"
"The one thats purple and pink, stat." You know better than to think this is just Tae having nothing to wear, this is dysphoria, the way it clings to her shoulders, makes her turn away from the mirrors. You straighten up and turn to your pack in the door each of them standing at attention.
"Namjoon, go downstairs and bring me up the case that's under Tae's makeup vanity, not next to it, the one under it. It's got her favorites." You turn to Hobi, "find Noodle, she needs a cat in her lap asap."
Tae sniffles, wiping her cheeks, grimacing but then admitting, "a cat would help."
They scatter. "What should I do?" Yoongi asks, rubbing the back of his neck with his hands.
You pause, hover. But Yoongi waits, willing to be ordered around. "you could make us a drink?"
Of course, you don't need to be drunk to play dress up on a good day, it's just that Tae needed a bit of liquid courage after Moonbyul's words, you expect that they've gotten under her skin a little more than she's let on. But if that's under her skin, you're happy to help her put something more fitting over it.
Skirts of tulle and beaded flowers and stars that glitter brighter than the whole sky. Fancy tambour embroidery that must be worth its weight in gold. Pulled gently, mother-of-pearl buttons get stuck in your hair. Expensive draping and diamond collars stitched high against scented throats. Velvet bows and metal boning are hidden by the softest silk.
It's fun to be a girl sometimes, most of the time. Especially when your alphas ask for you to twirl for them.
Which is how Namjoon ends up breaking the lamp by your couch by tripping over the floor-length bright pink dress that Tae’s put you in. fluffy tiers of it, bright and flamingo pink. Tae's feeling alot better now, after you'd done her makeup and let her swatch colors of lipstick up and down your arms. Let her choose your outfit and change you a dozen times to find the right dress for you.
You'd done the same with her, you'd put her in the red dress and blushed, and immediately asked her to change. And had pointedly not looked at the delicate daisy print bralette she wore under it, the white and yellow flowers that did everything for her skin.
You remember when that bralet was just hidden in her makeup room. Remember when she'd never worn it, too risky, too much of a confession to the nature of her soul underneath. When it had stayed just there- hidden in the library room, ready to be savored. Now- the yellow on the straps wears off white instead of lemony and you pull them up her shoulders, a kiss to the spot where it sits on her shoulders.
Hoseok sits on the edge of the couch- because all of them had tried and failed to fit on the pink tufted bench upstairs in the dressing room almost breaking it so you had to relocate back to the first floor. Hoseok buries his face in your hip, disappearing into the pink glittery fabric. Laughing and smiling up at you. "You should wear this all the time, you look like a fucking peony,"
"That would be like so impractical." Hobi's cheeks are dotted with kiss prints, "if you want to put makeup on me you better kiss it on" he'd teased, getting drunk quicker than the rest. his cheeks have several small kiss prints four from Tae and five from you.
All of you bear her touch, either by kisses on your cheeks, pink and mauve, or by the glitter that tae's demanded you all wear. You’ve giggled and dotted it across their cheeks to match. Tae has a lot of glitter to go through in her makeup collection, more than she ever logically will in her lifetime or even before they expire. It's okay to use them now.
She sits with Jin, the pack omega's arms full of swatches the same way yours were all those months ago, as Tae explains the merits of each and Jin chooses which glitter he wants on his cheeks. The reflects in this one that's green, not purple- or the pink one with extra little heart glittery bits- her favorite. Jin listens on an astute student, Jimin close at his hip, absorbing her words like they're gospel.
They are gospel. After spending the last few days debating survival strategies- debating glitters is so much better.
Jin lets Tae put his on (white, with extra chunky stars) while you put some on Namjoon's cheeks (champagne colored, almost translucent with how it blends into his skin) and Jimin’s fingers draw idle circles over Tae's back. Between the velvet ribbons that crisscross and tie her corset.
Tae's corset is a deep plumb, but the color of her silk dress fades to pink around her waist and then gauzy white on the floor. Her red toenails are only visible when she sways, "Minnie i'm ticklish there." Jimin just growls in response. Half a pur and half a plea.
Are the others thinking about it like you are? Thinking about Tae in a big white dress, a veil across her face? Are they thinking about how lovely she looks in white? Or how much they'd like to see her in a white dress for them? Just like you are?
Namjoon leans close, between your thighs too. All of them- all of your packmates sit in a line across the couch, ready to be glittered and made up because Tae had requested it. Doing all of their makeup. They'd been so willing, so loving about it. They'd even washed their faces and you'd gotten to clean the salt from Namjoon's cheeks just like you'd wanted. But now-
Now the 4th finger on your hand hums sensitive, Tae has glitter across her knuckles. You haven't thought about your wedding ring since you took it off, and haven't thought about marriage at all. Jimin well- Jimin will be Tae's mate- same way you're Yoongi's. But Tae's ring finger is empty, she doesn't wear a lot of jewelry but-
You don't think about your wedding alot, not at all really. Such a brief little bit of time that started easily the worst time in your life, but you remember the feeling of the dress, tight on your hips- how you couldn't move a full step without help.
Hoseok burrows into the fluff at your hip, really- it must have taken a mile or two of tulle to make a skirt so poofy. It sort of feels like you're wearing a cloud. With Tae's ribcage size and your chest- most of her dresses fit you comfortably. This one is probably the closest, and Tae chose it for you.
Tae chose it for you.
You sneak furtive glances over at Tae while you do Namjoon's makeup. Not much, just a bit of eyeliner and mascara for his sparse lashes. He looks up at you from the couch, eyeliner on one eye, almost masculine in the way it makes his eyes look sharper and dragon like. Concealer for the bags under his eyes.
"Your scent went a little sour then sweet, what were you thinking about?" You continue to put it on him, pat pat pat- quiet for a moment where you choose your words.
"I was thinking about my wedding dress."
Hoseok quiets where he's still burrowing into your hip, maybe more a little alpha-puppyish than you've seen him. You don't blame him, the stress of yesterday has you needing a bit of omegaspace yourself. Your back and shoulders all tense in the way that only ever relaxes when you're brought low and sweet by their care.
But not now- not tonight- maybe tomorrow you'll indulge in omegaspace. Tonight, none of you will sleep or be sensitive just in case something bad happens. Just in case Moonbyul's promises were too good to be true. It might be a good night (verging on morning) but none of you trust the quiet. The rain still pittering on outside. Creaking under the doors with cold damp fingers.
Namjoon's fingers dig warm into the spot under your thighs, the squishy bit of skin between your knees and your mid-thigh. Under the dress but firm, keeping you there in the moment and not sinking back through your memories.
Hobi's eyes are shiny when they look up at you, pinching a bit of the pink tulle between his thumb and forefinger. "What was getting married like? What did you wear for your wedding dress?" Was it everything you dreamed of or could you want that dream again. Who would you want that with, could it be me?
(Hoseok won't have to wonder for long, although he will be disappointed, just a little)
"It was so- so not me- I'd much rather have worn something like this." The dress might be a monstrous concoction of tulle but it's still so cute- so much more- you than anything Geumjae ever put you in.
"Getting married was kinda a blur, alot of people, a lot of talking but- I have pictures of me in it somewhere, do you want to see?" Namjoon nuzzles into your waist, your sternum, and nearly your chest, but you let him. He answers in a purr before Hobi has a chance too.
"No, I don't need to see, you look lovelier in this, I'm sure."
"I never thought a bit of whiskey would draw compliments out of you alpha," You tease, it's a bit of a change from how firm with you he was yesterday but you're not going to look gift horses in the mouth. Namjoon just shakes his head, rubbing his cheeks across your bodice more thoroughly, almost clumsy in his scenting.
"I clearly haven't been doing my job if you think you need to get me drunk to compliment you- I'll happily do it again when we all get sober."
"Like that will ever happen again," Jin snorts, then ducks away from Namjoon's /////' We really shouldn't have that kind of mentality look. They can avoid their pack alpha and pack omega responsibilities and sensibilities for a few moments more. a few days more.
Tae had decided you'd wear this, had picked it out from where it had hung towards the side and she'd even said please. Even if the skirt is so long that you nearly trip over it every time you take a step you'll wear it all night if that's what she wants. Walking is what heels and alphas are for anyway.
You don't look at Hoseok and Namjoon, you just look at Tae, thinking of your wedding. 'I'm gonna marry her one day.' You think.
The whole pack bursts into laughter, and you realize that you've spoken out loud the same second that you trip, hands jerking to catch yourself on Namjoon's shoulders, regardless of the container of glitter that you hold in your hands.
When you look Yoongi has more glitter covering him than a stripper would at Mardi Gras. More than they put on Edward Cullen in Twilight. Their laughter redoubles, and when Yoongi breathes out in a huff, his breath sparkles.
"Jesus fucking Christ."
Your cheeks are brighter than your skirt while Jin tries to clean off his thighs swatting the glitter onto the floor but everyone's laughing too hard to properly help. Yoongi repays their laughter by shaking his hair out over them much to their dismay.
Jungkook is hiccupping with how hard he's giggling, and you're all drunk and in love, and just- there is no harm in it, even as Yoongi sighs and Hobi teases, "You're like fucking Tinkerbell hyung."
Tae doesn't do anything about your confession, doesn't do anything but laugh and tip her hip into yours, it's so much squishier, so much curvier than it once was. The hormones that have been doing her job in making her soft and supple. Curves that you can't help but feel a little bit later when she pushes you into the side of the couch, your dress and her dress mixing their colors.
"So, you wanna marry me huh?" She's so much taller than you, especially in the Versace pumps she put on. So tall and willowy it has you stammering.
"Yeah," you say, a little breathless looking up at her. Gulping as she leans, pinning you there. "If Jimin will let me."
Jimin hasn't seemed to notice that you're having any sort of conversation that should involve him at all, hasn't registered your words at all, too busy staring at Tae with an expression that can only be described as lovestruck, maybe utterly devoted. Your sentiment and want to marry her- hasn't struck him as strange at all. You guess you'll have to ask Yoongi first but when you turn, his cheeks are as pink as your dress.
Jin lunges forward, miming the neck of a champagne bottle as a microphone, doing a silly voice. "Anything to report? any comment Yoongi- knowing that your mate wants to marry someone thats not you?"
Yoongi huffs and it casts a new puff of glitter into the air, "she can marry whoever she wants. She's my mate but- if she wants to yeah-" His shoulders shiver, "we'll not anyone- obviously she's limited to the people in this room but-"
Jin is giggling and so are you, rolling your eyes, "Obviously- not like I'd wanna marry anyone else than you guys-" Hoseok looks away and then back at you but it's a missed moment. Jimin tugs on the laces of Tae's corset and her slight intake of breath has you looking back up at her.
“Did you have to do it so tight?” He asks, eyes on you.
“That’s kinda the point of a corset alpha.”
And then- Hobi slaps the couch. A loud sound but a look says he's not angry, he's running his fingers through some of the glitters there, a little pile, uncovering the faint stain below.
It's a blood splatter. Faded from where Jin poured a whole bottle of hydrogen peroxide over it, but it's faintly there still. Soaked through the fibers and the foam below probably. Maybe all the way to the base and the springs.
They washed it as much as they could, but they still couldn't get it out all the way. The couch, like a few other things in the house like the curtains- will have to be dealt with and disposed of one day. It is a kind of evidence. There's probably enough DNA to pull from it to be worrisome.
“Can we like- burn this fucking thing already?”
He’s progressed past normal drunk to not quite able to stand on his own, might fall over, drunk. The glass in his hand sloshing with every movement as he leans over the edge of the couch. Hobi’s already got some on his cheeks, bright yellow gold that crests the highpoint of his cheekbones and the inner corner of his eyes. It looks like sparks a bit- especially with his red hair.
Jin grimaces, “It was like totally soaked with blood. I did the best I could."
"No one's blaming you hyung-"
"Yeah you did like such a good job. It's just- still kinda covered." Namjoon's always trying to ease Jin's discomfort, encourage him, and that's still true even drunk.
“It's probably still got Namjoon’s cum in it from his last rut too.” Half the pack cringes and scolds Jungkook, but he's recalcitrant. "What? It's probably got your cum on it too- we kinda ruined it before the whole murder thing just saying."
Jungkook hasn’t been drunk in years, he has the lowest tolerance among the eight of you. He bounces giggly, jumping from packmate to packmate, looping his arms around your shoulders and leaning so much of his body weight that you almost topple over, just giggling. Yoongi huffs, a little endeared and a little worried that Jungkook will actually make you fall over.
Jungkook does this to you alot. He likes to overpower you sometimes- not that the hierarchy still needs settling Jungkook just likes to hassle you.
“Hey!” Namjoon chirps from the floor as Jin carefully sweeps up some of the glitter and a few shards from the lamp that Namjoon broke. He’s too drunk to be properly scandalized.
Yoongi sits back against the cushions, drink in his hands swirling. Ice clinking. “Yeah, let’s burn it.”
And burn it you do. The alphas try to lift it all together and almost fall over themselves, barely moving it even an inch before Yoongi decides to cut it up with his power tools and carry it out piece by piece. It makes a fucking mess in the Living Room before you lug it out to the squishy backyard.
Piles of stuffing litter the living room floor like dust bunnies and noodle swats at them, playing.
Yoongi's got the kerosene and you've got the match and the whole thing goes up in seconds, much to Hoseok and Jungkook's whooping delight. Jin's bundled in a blanket, but even he grins at the flames and the bad memories that burn away with it.
Hobi almost throws his car keys into the fire too but doesn’t. Whooping and waving his arms as the flames climb higher and higher. Yoongi squirts more of the lighter fluid until Namjoon says "That's enough" because a trip to the burn unit isn't what any of you want tonight.
The eight of you stand around it and watch it burn and then when you go back upstairs, Seokjin drags the mattress from your old bedroom into the big room- just like you did during Namjoon’s rut. Jungkook’s reallocating all of the pack's nesting materials to make a fort on the ground floor. Yoongi gets up on a chair to measure out where the studs should be so that he can use nails to secure a sheet to the ceiling like a big circus tent.
“It’s a fort hyung! It doesn’t need to be structurally supportive.”
Yoongi just pecks at Jungkook's head from where he stands on one of the pack's dining room chairs, "Not gonna let the world fall down on top of you bunny."
Tae asks Hobi to play bubblegum pop and they’re just so happy to see her smiling and acting anything like herself that they acquiesce to even her most ridiculous requests.
Hoseok turns the music up loud and you all fucking dance. You and Tae twirl and bounce, your big long skirts heavy and all big. Stained with a bit of mud at the bottom of the backyard. Namjoon makes both of you twirl and snag around your waists as you spin past.
You and Tae hop up and down, screaming along to the lyrics so loud that when it quiets- your voices are rough and raw. Chests a bit lighter with each screamed lyric, something awful working its way out of you with every laugh, something necessary in it as you grip each other's arms and yell out your frustrations against the speaker.
And by then Jungkook asks to wear a dress too- and then you’re really all having fun.
Yoongi is wearing a pair of Tae’s fuzzy knee socks and is dancing slowly with Noodle who chirps in his arms- apparently recognizing that your mate is too soft and squishy at the edges to be worth the hissing. Hair mused from some very involved kissing that you know Hobi dragged him away for.
Noodle keeps his claws sheathed for now as Yoongi dances although he does look vaguely annoyed. Like he doesn’t want to enjoy Yoongi’s touch but does. Watching you and Tae show Jungkook how to walk in high heels with beady yellow eyes. Jungkook gets it quick, quicker than you did.
Tae just nips at his cheek, a little bitey and a lot drunk. Jin and Yoongi have run out of frozen fruit so the drinks are a little stiffer. You’ll probably run out of alcohol by morning.
Someone will offer to drive to the nearest liquor store which will immediately be met by shaken heads and refusals, just this once- you can have alcohol and food delivered. Leaving the house right now still feels too scary. Too nerve-wracking.
Why would you ever leave when you have everything you could ever need, everyone you’ll ever love right here in this room? Wearing glitter and dresses and matching pajamas worn at the edges from love and cuddles.
Namjoon is wearing your bottoms. The very first courting present he ever got you, pink with red hearts. They're a bit tight in the ass and more capris, but they fit him either way. You watch as Namjoon’s fingers toy underneath Seokjin’s hem, splaying and petting a little higher. High enough to show a bruise that you didn’t know existed that lies against Jin’s ribcage.
For now, you’re all safe, and Tae tugs Jungkook upstairs in the direction of your dressing room. “Come on kookie I’ve got the perfect thing.” You know she's not tired of playing dress up with just you- she's just happy to have another canvas.
Tae has 7 other canvases actually, once Jungkook gets in on the dress-up, Jimin follows like the puppy alpha he is, and then Hobi and your mate, Jin, and Namjoon because they want to know what you're shrieking about upstairs. And come up to find Yoongi sprawled out on the floor, a fluffy something stuck over his head kinda making him look like a lampshade.
"It's not my fault your waist is like- super tiny. My head's just big."
And that’s how everyone gets in on it. Dresses and fancy shirts, bedazzled belts strung low over Hobi’s hip, and a silk scarf tied around Namjoon’s neck in a big bow. Jin ends up in a silky shirt that actually makes your heart stop, a glittery broach at the collar that Jimin toys with and Jin lets him touch to his heart's content. Dancing and dancing and falling onto the nest that you’re all building so so sloppy. Earning your first real laugh you’ve let out in days.
“Joonie? Can you please- I’ve waited forever to get my ears pierced and you’re like a surgeon- and you just look it up on YouTube and do it,”
You slip on someone's spilled drink almost tumbling into Hobi who goes to snatch your waist but misses. Giddy and giggly, “I can do it! I pierced mine once in elementary school but they healed over!”
“I don’t know if drunk piercings are the best idea.” Jin says, at the same moment that Jungkook chirps, “I’ll do my belly button if you hold ice to it."
Namjoon is the one who ends up doing it, with his gloves and antiseptic and numbing cream. You check to make sure Tae’s are symmetrical and then Jimin’s because of course he wants to be matching with her, then Jungkook and Jin, because they can be giggly and ridiculous too.
They’ve got high-quality surgical steal and fancy earrings upstairs that Jimin bought Tae during his mad dash to get her all the girl things after she came out (you're still honestly going through all of it). You give Tae the hoops because you know they won’t tug and pull on her hair and Jimin these little studs with a star on them.
Namjoon does it with a kiss on her cheek and a tiny gauze pad with barely a drop of blood on it folded and thrown away. “Good baby girl, was I gentle enough?” he was, he always is gentle enough.
By the end of the night, you’ve got a secondary piercing, and Tae’s already dreaming about getting more. One at a time Namjoon says, the edge of a pack alpha command in his voice.
~-~
You wake with a pounding headache and to mimosas and a mountain of pancakes that Hobi practically forces down your throat to keep off the worst of the hangover. Until you feel like you might be sick and the pack piles in around where you sit in the bathroom to keep you company through your nausea. A bit more panicky and serious and sober than you have been.
They stroke your back and pile the big blue blanket around you to keep off the shivers. But you don’t vomit somehow, drinking the electrolyte drink that Yoongi practically shoves down your throat. Quieter now that he’s sober but still unable to watch you suffer. Hand on your chin making you drink. You fall asleep soon after that again, overly full.
You sleep for 12 hours, and wake to the sound of retching, but it's just Yoongi- in a similar position as you are. Apparently he Jin and Namjoon stayed up while the rest of the pack went back to bed and decided to play drinking games that have turned into a bad decision. he'll need a shower before long.
He's not the only one whose in a bad way. Hobi wakes from the nest room staring at the ceiling listless. Still wearing the fancy designer clothes that Tae put him in under one of his hoodies. and you know without having to ask that he's thinking about her, about Moonbyul.
But getting over this is going to be a work in progress. Everyone is good one moment and then bad the next, only to be good in an hour, laughing like you were never crying.
Hobi doesn’t want to move, staring blankly at the ceiling Noodle purring against his hip and kneading him, putting holes in his pants. He can’t move from the nest fort in the living room, half open like a clamshell curled away from the entryway. Can't move until Jungkook gets you and you come close and he finally tears his eyes from the ceiling to look at you. You don't have to say a word to him you just guide him into a sitting position and let him rest his face against the crook of your neck.
You help him take off his sweatshirt and when he nods that he's ready, guide him up to the upstairs bathroom where tae is already showering off the scent of fire and glitter. You helped her take off her corset just the same, tugging at the ribbon until it fell loose because Jimin complained that he didn't know how to take it off without hurting the dress.
You strip all of them- Hobi and Yoongi and tae, and get them side by side in the bathtub. A firm layer of foam on the top from Jungkook's favorite purple bubble bath, and have a go at grooming them with Jin and Jungkook. Every inch of your alphas is inspected and tested with teeth and purrs. Hoseok closes his eyes to listen to the sound of them, just after Jungkook man handles the rest of the pack into the deep tub that Yoongi installed for this specific purpose.
Jin's purr is deep, yours is musical almost, and Jungkook's is really similar to noodles. He feels a hand on his cheek and knows without opening his eyes that it's yours rubbing away the wetness there.
"Not crying cuz I'm sad just-" he doesn't have to explain, doesn't have to do anything but close his eyes and let you make it better. If hurts could come out in the wash- you'd be able to get them out. You of all people know how hard it is for him to feel clean, the grubbiness of bad memories and old hurts that stains his bones.
And yet, you still wash him.
You rub a cloth over his shoulders, the tense part of his neck, his spine all gentle. Again and again until he starts to squirm- nothing about the touch, nothing about the grooming selfish. You ask him if he's done and he says not yet so you keep going until the waters gone cold and everyone else has gotten out of the tub.
Namjoon forces about a gallon of water down yoongi's throat, but the worst of the vomiting seems to be over. yoongi sleeps too- out of sync.
Love feels so tight in his chest that Hoseok can't open his eyes. He falls asleep there until Jin starts to tug at him, and when he opens them, he finds that you're in one of Tae's slip dresses- the kind that she likes to sleep in, translucent and soap sudsy at the hem where you got wet washing him.
His voice is croaky but he asks, "Have you eaten?" The answer, of course, is no. But he remedies it easily for you once he's dressed and scented sweet. An eye for an eye, a hurt for a hurt, and a heart for a heart.
You order a new couch somewhere on the third day, blue this time instead of grey- to match the tile backsplash in the kitchen. With fabric that’s comfier this time and actually designed to be turned into a nesting nook when you need it.
Yoongi puts it together sober and then takes it apart just to put it back together again- claiming that one of the legs is squeaky and the middle edge isn't flush. He's feeling better, less hungover and less angry. Happy to have something for his hands to do.
He still doesn’t talk to you more than a few words but he does ask “Hold the flashlight for me?” While Tae is upstairs putting away her torn-apart dressing room with Hobi and Jungkook.
And you do help your mate- standing in your matching pj’s with clean hair and clean minds for the first time in days. Thoughts unclouded by terror or anger or alcohol.
You hold his phone while he tamps down on the leg screws. the sound of the others laughing upstairs, both of you quietly accept for the clink click of the socket wrench. You hold the flashlight, hold it even when Yoongi drops his hands, not looking at you, squatting. It's quiet, Noodle sleeps in a puddle of mid-afternoon sunlight by the front door but it's morning for you- all of you slept till noon.
“I need a moment okay just- give me a second, give me a few days.” You gulp and look at him. But it's as much as Jin has said to you too. As much as any of them have warned. “Give him time pup, he’ll come around.”
“Let me know when you want the next screw.” He turns around, still kneeling before you, hand on your ankle. Circling it slowly and simply. Petting over the ball of your bone and your Achilles tendon. Looking up at you and not saying a thing until you speak.
“You know I’m sorry for it right? That I regret it right?”
“Yeah,” he says, lips downturned “I know. Wish it hurt less that way.”
“If there was something I could do- something that would make it better- you’d tell me right?”
Yoongi pauses, his lips part for a split second and then go closed, and this time his cheeks go pink. But he sounds stronger when he says,
“Yeah, I’d tell you.”
~-~
But it does hurt less this way. All of your secrets and all your shortcomings are out in the open. Day drinking is either a fantastic idea or a terrible one depending on how you look at it. Because for the first time ever you all talk about it instead of keeping it bottled up.
The eight of you are piled into the kitchen, a second food order sits on the fringes in brown paper bags that Hobi doodles on idly with a sharpie, drawing bunnies and noodle and diamond rings and flowers- endless daisies. and then moves to doodling on Yoongi's jeans. Five days in and still completely unwilling to leave the house- still too scary, too many unknowns that linger just outside your door.
The 7 of them sit stretched between the cabinets while you bounce around above them mindful of not tripping on their sprawled legs, cooking up your tiramisu because Hobi had bragged about it and now they all want a taste.
You spin and turn, ducking and dodging needy hands. Jimin leans forward to sneak a quick peck against your knee when you’re mixing some of the egg whites. Jin gets up eventually to help, disliking the way that you teeter too pupish without a reassuring touch and your favorite baking companion at your elbow. Jin ties his apron around your neck and says. “Tell me what to do” Cooking with him is the most normal thing you’ve done in months. You have enough energy for it once.
“You’re making like a double batch, right?” You’re drinking less, all a little less intoxicated, you’d woken up this morning with a headache that faded and now you don’t want to drink anymore, done for the week and maybe the month. Maybe your whole lifetime after almost vomiting- was that yesterday? Or the day before?
“Hyung when I tell you you’re gonna wanna have the whole tray it’s like- so fucking good-”
“You talk a big game Hobi.” Jungkook looks like he wants to be a part of Hobi's big game. Scent swelling sultry and sweet.
There has been surprisingly less sex than you thought there would be although you know that Tae dragged Jimin upstairs late last night for a bit of privacy. It’s nothing like Namjoon’s rut. Without the alcohol, the pack is getting touchier. It’s strange- you almost would have expected them to want more while drinking but it didn’t happen that way.
Now Namjoon’s hand skims your hip whenever you walk past. Stepping over his thick thighs, squishy where they're pulled together to give Yoongi enough room. His hand comes up to toy with the edge of your shirt, A casual yet claiming touch that you pay no mind. Pinching the chub there and murmuring a quiet "fuck."
You raise your eyebrow at him, a bit self-conscious but still willing to let him do what he wants, "having fun Joonie?" You taunt. He leans forward, nose nudging under your shirt, dragging his teeth over the small swell of your stomach in reply. It's nothing new (well you being a bit chubbier is- but you're learning to live with it).
the mood is light until Jin asks you how you did it, how you killed the don and his beta.
Your recipe book is open in front of him- and that has to be part of the reason why it comes to him. It’s not a secret anymore. Yoongi doesn’t look bothered as the pack quiets down and you tell them everything.
How Moonbyul convinced you to help her do it, how you actually killed them, how she disposed of the evidence. All of it. Jungkook's fingers come up to skim over the scars on your back and you catch his hand gently, taking it away from them because you don't want him to touch them now.
It's the first time you've addressed the elephant in the room in 5 days and it feels-
It feels good to talk about it. To get it off your chest.
You've always told yourself that you had to kill them, it was either them or you, and they were bad people anyway. Who knows how many innocents had fallen under their hands- certainly more than have fallen under Moonbyuls.
You did what you had to do to survive and there was no way out. But part of you has always wondered if that was true.
The pack makes you feel like it is the truth. That killing to survive was all you could do.
But it’s Hobi who bends forward along with Jin, “hang on hang on- fucking cupcakes? You poisoned the head of the fucking mafia using fucking cupcakes?”
You blush, and Namjoon drags his finger through some of the whipped cream you’ve already made for the tiramisu. You gave him the bowl after you were done with it and he lifts it up to lick at the bottom, practically putting his face in the metal bowl. Jungkook licks the spoon and Tae tries not to watch his lips pucker. He fidgets, Thigh-shimming where he squirms tucked into Hobi's side.
Jin's hand on his chin guides the alpha to look up, checking to make sure that he's alright. You don't have to wonder why because last night- Hoseok woke up from nightmares again.
It was just like your nightmares. One moment you'd been nuzzling into him in sleep, and the next moment his hands had been shaking pushing you off of him. Smelling angry- his caramel scent going burnt and off the more he woke, you'd stayed up with him and piled blankets into the bathtub until he'd fallen back asleep again. Yoongi waited on the fringes with water until Hoseok had fallen asleep fitful- but asleep.
He'd woken up without an appetite, but when you'd asked him he'd said the only thing he might be able to eat was your tiramisu, so here you are. Nightmares are easy to deal with, Hoseok's nightmares are something you can handle.
“I bet they were fucking delicious.”
“Thank you Joonie, they were.”
Jin and Jimin are staring at you open-mouthed. But there are more questions- clarifications that everyone needs to ask. It feels good to finally talk about this freely.
“Wait wait wait let me get this straight- Jin’s been working for the FBI for how many years?”
“Only 6” Jin says at the same time Yoongi says, “6 and ½” and they shoot each other looks before Jin nods, and agrees. Eyes still on Yoongi. Jin and Yoongi are looking at each other with more love than is necessary. And Yoongi answers everyone’s unsure glances.
“I knew from the beginning and it didn’t matter.” Jimin bristles like it should certainly matter but Yoongi squeezes his good shoulder. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” Yoongi furrows his eyes, looking at Jimin's shoulder, and asks Namjoon if Jimin's stitches are ready to come out.
They are, so Namjoon gets his medical bad and Jimin takes off his shirt. A pair of forceps and medical scissors in his hands as he snips through Jimin’s stitches and carefully pulls them out one by one, wearing sterile rubber gloves but pausing to let Jin feed him more spoonfuls of whipped cream.
“Yeah,” Jin says, contemplating. “It doesn’t matter. They were so like bureaucratic anyway."
"You're not gonna miss it?" Jungkook asks, and Jin shakes his head.
"It's not worth it, I'll find something else to do, I've got like a stellar recommendation from them anyway."
It’s not just that secret that you talk through; you also talk through jimin and yours. nothing hidden anymore. No reason to hide it.
“Of course, I recognized you Minnie- I met you before I met anyone else- Before I even met you Yoongi.” Now that- Yoongi really doesn’t understand. But Jimin is already explaining before he has a chance to ask. And by the end of it- Yoongi wants to drive hoseok's car into the wall, trembling with how angry he is at past you for being so stupid.
“A fucking bar? You met Jimin at a fucking bar and you didn’t even try and hide the fact that you wanted to kill my brother?”
“Well I wanted to hire an assassin and he was there so-“
“Of course, she was gonna hire an assassin hyung, her ex-husband was like a total dick- like even more of a dick than Moonbutt or whatever her name is.”
“Moonbitch Kookie.”
You skim your fingers through Hobi’s hair, checking to see if he’s alright and he nods, catching your hand and pressing a fleeting kiss there. You need your hands to bake but Hoseok holds onto them a moment longer than is necessary.
“God that's so dumb” Jin slaps Namjoon's arm and he realizes what he just said, his shoulders curling in, “wait you are not dumb and I am just stressed because I’ve never made ladyfingers before- please don’t think I actually meant that-”
Namjoon rolls his eyes, he’s well aquatinted to how punchy Jin can get when he's tired. That’s nothing new. Jungkook spills across Yoongi’s thighs in mock misery, but he doesn’t react beyond skimming a hand up Jungkook’s back, first over his tee shirt and then under it.
Yoongi turns to you, where you hold a piping bag filled with creamy batter, taking even deep breaths as you pipe out the first few ladyfingers, showing Jin how to do it without getting bubbles in most of them. “You knew didn’t you?” He’s not accusatory. Just surprised. “That it was dangerous, you knew you could die and you did it anyway.”
You nod without pause, “I’d done more dangerous things by then, It was only a matter of time before someone figured out I’d killed the don and I wanted to make sure I got to see him die before they got to me.”
Yoongi takes a sip of his glass, angry at you for making poor decisions back before he even knew you. Angry even though his anger has nowhere to go that's good.
“You have to be more careful.”
“All of us have to be more careful,” Hobi replies he doesn’t like the reproach in Yoongi’s voice. Doesn’t like the way he’s been talking to you. But all the anger and all the pain is healing (it's all just love with nowhere to go. All you have to do is give it time.)
The wounds on your hands are closing slowly- healed enough already that it doesn’t hurt when you hand over the piping bag to give Jin a chance to try. You've done the first 12 ladyfingers and he does the next two dozen to get the hang of it. When Tae asks, you show her how to pipe out a little heart, and then JK wants to make a dick-shaped one and you let him. He gets more of the batter on his sleeve, but you made extra just in case something like this happened.
Jungkook sits up abruptly, wide bunny eyes dark and glassy upturned at you, glancing between you and Jimin, “What did- what does killing feel like?”
“Oh my god Jk you can’t just ask that.”
“No, he can ask I just-“ Jimin swallows, and puts his hand down. He's holding a piece of gauze where Namjoon puts the small cut pieces of the suture. Tinged pink from a little bit of blood. His chest shines in the half-light, the little bit of antiseptic glimmering around the freshly pulled stitches on his shoulder catching the light. Jimin’s face twists in pain, but you know it’s not his incision that’s bothering him. Namjoon's gentle as he pulls the last one.
“I don’t want you to think less of me.”
Everyone’s silent, no one rushes to reassure him, because the truth is that you don’t know. You put your hand over his squeezing- the best that you can offer. Jungkook pushes on, undeterred, “Tell us about the first time.”
“The first time was an accident- it was- before you guys just before Tae went to school- right when she started and I wasn’t thinking. Someone rushed at one of my private clients and I just-“ Jimin's eyes go dark and he picks at one of the stures until Namjoon pushes his hands away.
"You did what you were hired to do," Namjoon asks, and Jimin nods. You and Jin finish the tiramisu and Yoongi reaches out a hand to help you sit with the two big trays of it, portioning them out onto the plates.
"I protected them at a cost." Jimin stares down at his plate, the perfect square on it. and you nudge it until he eats it.
“That music executive” Tae blurts, eyes shining, connecting the dots “you were really quiet after you came back but then you got buys, I just thought-” She goes quiet when you feed her the first bite, letting out a surprised but appreciative hum, distracted by how good it tastes, "This is really good."
Yoongi huffs, rueful in his understanding. “All they really need is one kill on you and they’ve got you for good.” But that's all in the past now, Jimin is never going to have to kill someone again, even if he did get paid for it.
He lifts a fork to his mouth, pulling back after a second and furrowing his eyebrows. licking the cream from his lips slowly, eyes narrowing.
"Okay now I'm really angry, how have you never made this for me?"
"You never asked Yoongi."
"We'll I'm asking now, I can't believe you kept this from me for so long. Can you make it on my birthday?" You blush, bright red, and Jungkook leans over to press his nose into your flushed cheek.
Jimin answers Jungkook's question after a few bites. “It didn’t bother me, after a while it didn’t bother me at all" Jimin turns to Jin, eyes shining with unshed tears, "hyung, does that make me crazy? Does that make me a psychopath?”
Jin swallows softly around his bite of tiramisu, it really is quite good, top 5- if not top 3 on his list of favorite desserts you've made. “I’m not sure. There is an assessment as a part of the DSM-5. I could test you if you want. Although I’m not sure I could be totally impartial.”
Jimin looks winded, desperate from the line of hope that Jin dangles in front of him, a chance at salvation. Jimin has always wanted to know- in that same twisted way he’s always wondered if he and Tae were going to go to the same place when they died- if he was honest to god crazy. Jimin’s always wanted to know what makes him so different than other people. always looked for a reason and now jin might give him one.
“What do you mean by impartial?”
Jin sets down his fork. “Jimin, do you think any of us wouldn’t do what we had to do to survive I mean- Tae and Y/n killed someone over there 6 days ago. Do you think that makes them psychopaths? Do you think that makes them damned?”
Jimin’s chest heaves and he can’t answer Jin, But after a second, Jimin asks again, “You’ll assess me then?” Tae's fingers rub mindless patterns over the back of Jimin’s hand, her knuckles are still bruised.
“The next day we’re both alone in the house.” He grimaces, “It’s the least I could do after shooting you.”
Jimin whines, mood lightening. “Come on, you know I don’t take it personally.”
At the end of the day, the fact that Jimin’s a killer hurts less than you might think, although their pack has their own questions about it, Tae too, although her questions are limited, Jimin answers each of them truthfully and honestly. He'd never think of lying to her about this, not anymore, not again.
When it comes down to it there is a lot you’re willing to justify when it comes to the people you love and the people you choose. You’re all killers and liars and secret keepers. No true sinner and no true saint between the eight of you. It’s a good thing that you have more than enough love to go around.
Enough for a lifetime you think. You’ll have to wait and see.
“You realize everything you’ve said is insane right” Namjoon’s not angry, just tired and full as he sprawls out. Uncaring of everything that’s been said, unthreatened. “Like- actual mafia movie insane right? Are your names even your real name?”
Yoongi can’t keep in his snort. “Of course? What kind of question is that?”
You give them a look, “Actually…” The uproar is immediate, and everyone shouts their indignance and disbelief. All but roaring in shock, your laugh rings high and loud.
“Kidding! Just trying to lighten the mood!” Jin playfully drags you over his lap, swatting your ass playfully in punishment. Your laughing only gets louder. He leaves a coco-colored hand print on your white shorts.
Tae’s in more of a joking mood now, “am I allowed to use this for my next storyline?”
“Yes” and “Definitely not!” are mutual cries.
Maybe you don’t need to know everything about the person you love. Maybe love is just understanding someone’s secrets and loving them anyway. Maybe the biggest lie that Namjoon can tell himself- to preserve their family that they’ve forged through fire and fucking blood is that Jimin only ever had to kill when he needed to. He parts his thighs after he throws away his gloves- not even bloody, and Jimin slides in between them relieved.
His back resting against Namjoon’s chest, a happy growl grumble slipping out as he tests his hands, and Namjoon tests how far Jimin’s fingers can bend. “Pt starts tomorrow” Namjoon intones, a warning in his voice. Jimin nods, perfectly obedient.
“The rest of our lives start tomorrow too.” No one disagrees.
Jungkook is giggly and sits between Yoongi’s thighs, whipped cream on his cheek, they’ve already finished the first tray of tiramisu that you’d made and are making a serious dent in the second one. Cooking for them fills you with that same warm feeling as it always does. Cooking is a love language. food too. Your stomach is full of it.
“Hang on hang on- let me get this straight-“ Jungkook ticks them off one by one on his fingers. “Jin’s an FBI agent. Jimin’s an assassin. And you almost were one too?”
You roll your eyes, but nod anyway. It's truth enough- it's pretty obvious to you that's what Moonbyul and Hyejin had to slated for (privately Jimin wonders what your moniker might have been. Would you have been the flower to his snake? The dove to Hyejin's bumblebee?)
Jungkook points his finger at Hoseok next to you, the two of you share a fork and a plate smudged with chocolate and whipped cream. Namjoon has completely given up on portioning out his onto a plate and goes at the tray with Jin, a fork between the two of them.
“Hobi’s exes are the current head of a fucking crime family- and Yoongi’s like the heir to some fucked up advice column throne thing- that I still don't quite understand but- Has everyone been keeping something from each other this whole damn time?”
“Does mine even count? It’s not like I knew my ex was like- a fucking mafioso or whatever-”
“I mean- I kept the secret that I was a girl for like- my whole fucking life so I feel like everyone else gets a pass.”
Jimin combs a hand through Tae’s hair, looking down at her and rubbing away a smudge of tiramisu with his thumb. And you hit Namjoon’s knees with your socked feet. Your socks have strawberries on them and a hole at the toe. “You definitely get a pass baby girl.”
“What about you Joonie? Any secrets up your sleeve?”
Your pack alpha shrugs. Eyebrow's furrowing as he thinks hard about it. “I think the only secret I’ve ever kept from you guys was throwing out the lease that one time-“
“Oh my god I completely forgot about that-”
“Yeah, Jin hyung was so so mad. Almost as mad as Yoongi is.”
Your mate spills his plate with you quick he leans over to pinch Hobi’s scent gland. “Hey, I’m working on it!”
His last bite slips off his plate and plops onto the ground. Noodle darts forward, trying to get to it before you snatch him back. Unfortunately, no one thinks to do the same with Jungkook.
The hardwood floors have seen worse things in recent days than some whipped cream and everyone lets out belated 'No!' and Gross Jk' as Jungkook leans over to lick it up. You laugh as Hobi snatches Yoongi’s plate and holds it over his head, almost dropping it on himself with how Yoongi lunges. And Jin holds his plate of tiramisu out of reach of their roughhousing.
You rest your head on Tae’s shoulder and watch your pack bicker and then shoot it out for the last slice of tiramisu. Yoongi wins and licks the tray clean, getting a tiny spot of cream on his nose that Jin kisses off. She laces your hand with hers.
Both of you have lipstick swatches from yesterday still on the back of your palms, the faint imprint of the colors of your kisses that her fingers trace idly, gently. The memory there for now but not for long.
“What about you Kookie? Any secrets tucked up against your sleeve?”
Jungkook presses a finger to his lips, almost coquettish with how wide his eyes go. “What hyung? Me?”
Yoongi leans into his space, wrapping his arms around his knees. “Yeah, seems like everyone’s got a secret but you.”
“Hyung, you know if I’ve got a secret- it’s one I’ll never tell.”
~-~
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Notes:
Trying my hardest <3 I'm admittedly having a tough time right now, this chapter felt very nice to write because it's all about the beginning of the packs happy ending <3
i personally think they should have all fucked on the floor in tae's dresses, but thats just my personal thoughts about it all. this is one of the few times that i have pictures in my head of the dresses that tae and the m/c wear but i cannot find pictures online that match for the life of me!!!
The moonbitch moment made it into the chapter- idk who it was that commented that but 😂 i lowkey loved it so it made it in <3
What i've been trying to get at with most of the yoongi/m/c healing arc in this chapter is that they both need to be fully actualized and fully realized players in their relationship. yoongi does not and has not told her his wants and needs very often in the story- and that changes after this chapter- because in the moment they're putting together the sofa he realizes 'oh i actually can tell her what i need' it's important to note that the mc has healed to this point like- earlier in the story she might have taken any request from yoongi as criticism.
idk if anyone saw where i was talking about the eventual like 50 year end for the story like- where i think they all end up. but knowing that tae, hobi, and the m/c are the last packmates left alive into their 80's makes the conversation about the m/c marrying tae and not hobi all the more like...ah, sad maybe? i originally planned for tae and the m/c to be the last alive but maybe it should be the m/c and hobi- do you think they'd get married after tae died?
i love that tae and the m/c fit the tall and short lesbian niche that i am so so into like- i know i went on a bit about them but they are very in love and their love story has been some of my favorite in this book. i felt like this chapter needed a bit of glitter.
idk if i mentioned tae having her ears pierced before- but just pretend that i haven't!
i added the part with the m/c washing hobi at the last minute but let me tell you that part did almost make me cry so...
i ended up having to cut the after part of this chapter, but i kinda like it better that way because then yoongi doesn't forgive her right away. idk, that was the main part i wanted to work on for this chapter so its kinda good that i get to wait a little bit.
i've been...admitedly, dangerously depressed for the last two weeks, and i think working on this chapter made me realize that working on bily, writing stuff, is legitimately the only time i am happy and one of like 3 things that makes me feel okay, i hope it makes you feel okay too <3
Until next time!
#bts x reader#bts fanfic#bts omegaverse#bts angst#bts a/b/o#bts mafia au#bts omegaverse au#bts polyamory au#bts poly au#bts werewolf fic#bts fluff#bts hurt/comfort#min yoongi fic#min yoongi#omega! reader#bts a/b/o au#kim seokjin#bts#kim taehyung#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook x reader#taehyung x reader#taekook x reader#bts poly ot7#bts ot7#jimin x reader#min yoongi x reader#yoongi x reader#seokjin x reader
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road rage - matt sturniolo
warnings - SMUT, spanking, choking, angst, breeding, orgasm denial, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), doggy style, couch sex, kissing, nicknames (good girl, bad girl, baby, babygirl, sweetheart), daddy kink, implied aftercare, inpure thoughts, dry humping, degrading, praise, sir kink
a/n - tbh… i love this, i was watching the new car video and matt raging hitting the window, holy shit. and i’m ovulating… THANK YOU FOR 50 FOLLOWERS!
“WHAT THE FUCK! MOVE YOU FUCKING DUMBASS!” the car in front of us was trying to get over but was blocking everyones way of moving forward
matt always road raged “matt calm the fuck down” nick was trying to get him to stop, chris was annoyed from all the noise going on while he was trying to listen to music, but you, you were enjoying matt raging way more than you should
squeezing you thighs together, clenching around nothing, hoping no one notices
we finally pull into the driveway, everyone getting out and going to their rooms to change out of their clothes from dinner, nick stayed in his room, along with chris also in nicks room
you change out of your dress into some pajama pants and a t shirt, just something simple and comfortable, you went and sat down in the living room hoping that not being around matt would stop the ache in your core
but after a few minutes matt was out in the living room also, your head now laying on his shoulder, he noticed your uneven breathing but didn’t think anything about it, maybe you were just tired
“you wanna watch a movie baby?” he grabs the remote turning the tv on “uh yeah sure” his voice was slightly raspier than usual, only making the ache worse
you guys ended up deciding on ‘dumb and dumber to’ you couldn’t even focus on the movie, your head filled with all the things he could do to you, staring at the hand that was wrapped around your waist
would he pull your hair? would he finger you until you squirt? would he grope your ass or tits? would he slap your ass? would he slap your pussy? would wrap his hand around your throat? would he stick his fingers in your mouth too stay quiet? or would he use his fingers to keep your mouth open so he could hear you?
you look up at him admiring his side profile, mouth slightly agape, staring at his lips “you sure your okay sweetheart?” damnit he caught you staring
“i- uh yeah I’m fine” stuttering over your words “you don’t seem fine, tell me whats wrong” he’s staring into your eyes, you hesitate for a second before slamming your lips on his
the kiss was immediately heated, you move your leg to where you’re straddling him, grinding against his clothed dick, his grip in your waist tightening
moving your hands from his hair towards his belt, quickly undoing it and unzipping his jeans, he pulls away from the kiss “we can’t in here baby” he breathes out “yes we can” connecting your lips again “we really- really can’t”
“yes we can” now mumbling both of your words trying not too break the kiss “baby we could get caught” “then let them watch, i need you sooo bad” grinding yourself against him even harder “fuck”
he flips you guys over so now he’s on top, trailing kisses from your lips, to your chin, to your jaw, all the water down to your collarbone “tell me baby, what’s got you all worked up” continuing too suck marks in your skin
“in the car, w- when you were yelling at that guy” he smirks against your neck “yeah? you want me to talk to you like that? want me to degrade you baby?” arching your back when he starts sucking under your ear
“y-yes, please” he places his lips back on yours sticking his tongue in your mouth, he slips his hand under your pants and panties rubbing fast tight circles on your clit, moaning under him
“look at you, being my pretty little slut” he chuckles “please matty, i need it so bad” you whine, he slows his movements to tease you “what do you need baby?” his smirk visible on his face
“you know what i want matty” trying to move your hips to get more friction on your clit making him pull his fingers away, you whine under him hoping he will start again “mmm i don’t think i do princess, i think you need to remind daddy what you want”
his lips connecting to your jaw once again “please! i need your cock inside me so bad!” “i’m sure if you wanted daddy’s cock that bad i bet you could do better than that” you needed him now
“please daddy! i need your cock so so bad! i need you buried inside my pussy! please!” his right hand massages your thigh “i knew you could do it, such a good girl f’me” he pulls away from your jaw taking both of your pants off teasingly slow
you pull off your shirt unclasping your bra letting it fall of your shoulders, you are both now completely naked besides you still in your panties, he bends down gripping your jaw “did i say you could take that off” landing a slap on each of your tits
“n- no sir” he squeezes your cheeks together “correct, i didn’t give you permission, that makes you a bad girl, bad girls get punished, do you think you should be punished?” his words were making you wetter and wetter by the second
“yes sir,” he taps your thigh a couple times as a signal to turn over, putting your face onto the cushions, he pulls your panties to the side before he starts to slide hit tip through your folds
pushing your hips back trying to feel more “uh uh uh, stay still” he grips onto your waist “please- no teasing” sticking his tip inside of you then pulling back out “am i teasing baby?” “yes” he puts his tip in and takes it out again “ma-“ you get cut off with a loud moan erupting from your throat when he enters you fully without warning
he is going in and out of you hard and fast *smack* a harsh slap came down on your ass, the pain and pleasure combined together only made you come closer to the edge causing you to clench around him
“you like that sweetheart?” *smack* a pornographic moan leaving your mouth “such a dirty *smack* fucking *smack* slut *smack*” your face was buried inside of the cushions
his hands leave your waist grabbing your neck pulling your face out of the fabric, he didn’t use enough force to hurt you, but just enough too get you going, a choked moan leaving your mouth “s- so good” he thrusts into you faster
“yeah?” every time he bottomed out you, the pressure in your stomach built “so close” his stomach now touching your back “not until you ask nicely” you only responded with a loud cry of pleasure at first
“please! please let me cum on your cock daddy please!” “not yet baby, you were being a bad girl, have to make sure you’ve learned your lesson”
you were on the verge of letting go “please! please! please! daddy, i- i’ve learned my lesson! please! ill be so good! please!” he positions his mouth by your ear “do you think you deserve it?” it was painful holding your orgasm back “ye-“ *smack* “what was that sweetheart?” you were trying to think of gross things to help you hold off
and it was just barely working
“no! no i don’t! i’m sorry for being a bad girl daddy! ill be a good girl for you please!” his hand reaches between your bodies, his fingers starting to draw fast tight circles to your clit “fuck! please daddy please!” “there you go baby, cum all over daddy’s cock” he whispers in your ear
you immediately release all over him with a loud scream mixed with a moan “good girl” pleasure coursing through your body, it felt so good, all most too good
you couldn’t even acknowledge your surroundings anymore, all too focused on the ecstasy you felt “you gonna let me cum inside this pretty little pussy babygirl hm?” you would let him do anything to you “yes! please cum inside me!”
“you’re just my little cum slut aren’t you? so desperate for me too breed you” he laughs, somehow slamming into you harder “y-yes, i’m your cum slut! please! i want it!” he lets out a loud groan as thick ropes of cum squirt out of his slit into you, stalling his movements “fuckk”
after a couple minutes he pulls out “cmon baby lets go get cleaned up”
thank god nick and chris had noise canceling headphones.
#smut#luvs4matt#matt sturniolo#smutty smut smut#sturniolo triplets#matthew sturniolo#matt stuniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#rough daddy#dom male character
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Hi! I love your writing so much!! I'm currently loving your freelance inventor series! I don't see a lot of danny/bruce fics so it's always fun when you post one!! What danny thinks of the justice league, does he think they're just Bruce's extreme sports friends? Or his kids friends parents?
Danny first meets Bruce's extreme sports friends when Dick plans to introduce Wally-his first boyfriend- on a water skiing trip. It went a little hair-walled due to the misunderstanding.
He had been around the manor with some free time, so he asked Bruce if he could join once Dick brought up the trip and made a comment on how important things he needed to talk about.
Usually, Danny wouldn't have bothered, but because it was so long that thier friendship had started he felt like it was a good time to ask.
At first, both the Waynes appeared to be dancing around the subject that, for a second, Danny thought they didn't want him there. Not wanting to make them feel pressured—and a little embarrassed he had assumed he could tag along—he backtracked quickly, making up an excuse about flying out to see Dani.
There was an awkward dinner that evening, so Danny left immediately. He had planned on staying the night at Wayne Manor, but he felt he had overstayed his welcome from his silly request. Instead, he rented a hotel room in the more dangerous parts of the city.
Danny had been on the hotel's phone line all night, attempting to find a plan to take him somewhere close to Dani. He could fly with his powers the rest of the way, but he needed to create some kind of paper trail.
While he listened to the hold music of the airline representative, he felt a wave of shame. At that point, Danny had only known Bruce and Dick for a year- but with various breaks in between visits- and had thought that made them closer. Who did he think he was?
Bruce wanted their relationship to stay as business associates who occasionally hung out but nothing as important as a vacation trip. Danny had just been the idiot who thought himself more important.
Well, he would not be making the same mistake. He would only come back if it involved his work and would find his own lodging from now on. The Waynes had likely not know how to say no to him.
Idiot, Danny thought, pacing in his room and wiping away tears. Idiot. Stupid. Moron. Of course, Bruce Wayne doesn't think of you as a friend! Get a clue!
"Thank you for waiting, Mr. Fenton. A first-class plane ticket to Calais, France, has been booked for you on Monday, July 7th. Would you like to make this a round trip?" the cheerful woman asks him, and he sniffs.
"No. It's a one-way. I won't be coming back here for a while." The words feel like knives in his chest
She doesn't notice as she chirps "Alright then, that has been done for you. Thank you for using Wayne Airlines!"
Ugh, he even used Bruce's planes by accident. At least this will be the last thing he annoys the man with. The following morning, bright and early Danny is out the door with his suit case. He makes it all the way to the lobby where he bumps into a fretting Dick and some red head kid.
"Danny!" Dick cries. He flings himself onto his waist, squeezing with all his might. Danny is flabbergasted. "Danny, I only wanted Bruce to go on the water ski trip because I wanted to tell him about my boyfriend! I haven't told him I was bisexual yet, I wanted to tell him on the trip, but I made him swear not to mention it to anyone else, but then you asked to go, and Bruce couldn't figure out a way to tell you no without revealing that I wanted to talk about something important-but then you got sad, and then Bruce got sad and I-"
"Babe." The redhead cuts in. "Breath"
"Danny, please don't be mad at Bruce because of me!" Dick cries, rubbing his face against Danny's stomach. "I promise we didn't want to exclude you!"
Danny's heart melts, both by how cute Dick is and the knowledge that Bruce was just a good dad and not any of his insecure-inspired conclusions. "Oh, Dick. I'm sorry you felt that. I promise I'm not mad, and I'm so proud of you. Thank you for sharing that part of yourself with me."
He leans down to hug the boy, grinning as the ten year old sighs. Then he directs a glare at the redhead. He looks about twelve and frankly, Dick is far too young for a boyfriend. "Who's this?"
"I'm Wally West-"
"I asked Dick"
"Oh."
Dick leans back. "This is Wally. He's my best friend and boyfriend! Wally, this is Danny- he's like my second dad."
"It's nice to meet you, sir!" The redhead gulps as Danny's eyes narrow.
"Pleasure." He says in a voice that means anything but. "Dick, sweetie, how did you get here? Does Bruce know where you are?"
"Wally and I...ugh took a cap." Dick everts his eyes. "Bruce was talking to his friends trying to convince them to go on the trip too. He wanted to prove you were his special friend to his regular friends."
A thrill ran through Danny. He was Bruce Wayne's best friend!? "You know I think I can take you kids back home myself. Maybe we can still make a water ski trip!"
Both boys blink owlishly. "Yeah...maybe. Let me just call Uncle Barry to make sure he's going, too."
Wally sprinted to the front desk to borrow their landline while Dick stayed behind, babbling to Danny about how he knew he was bi and how he met Wally. Mentally, Danny was drafting a lecture to give Bruce for allowing his boy to date a co-worker and friend's nephew, especially at this young age! He didn't let his thoughts appear on his face, only nodding and smiling between Dick's word vomits.
Meanwhile, on Wally's side, he uses the Justice League hotline to speak to his Uncle. His call was transferred to the meeting with all the original founders as he used the emergency code accesses Barry had taught him.
His call was placed on speaker for everyone to hear.
"Code Teal for B! Code Teal for B!" he hissed into the phone. The rest of the members sat up straighter and sent Batman looks of alarm. Code Teal was a spouse or lover who thought a hero was cheating on them because of the mission's old hours. We needed to come together to cover for them.
Batman was hiding his face in his hands. ".....Confirm Code Teal."
"Oh and before I forget Code Artificial red for Dick and me" Wally shouts, ignoring the imploding shouts from Batman or Uncle Barry.He hung up not wanting to explain that the boys had chosen to use Fake-out-make-out in order to convince Danny to stay.
He wouldn't mind dating Dick, but maybe later when they were both older. Not that Danny needed to know that.
#dcxdpdabbles#dcxdp crossover#Freelance Inventor#part 4#Set a year after Danny met Bruce and Dick#Six months after The Justice Leauge found out Batman was in love#Fake out make out for Wally/Dick#Danny thinking they best friends forever now. He made a braclet#In the 90s the phone was a hour long wait to book plane tickets
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50+ things to script in your desired reality.
things to script in your desired reality !! ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡☆
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
persona.
♡ what you mean to say will always come across that way & never be misinterpreted.
♡ voice doesn’t crack or shake.
♡ you have the aura / energy you desire (intimidating, warm, etc.)
♡ fluent in desired langue.
♡ you can listen to any piece of music & play it perfectly on any instrument.
♡ you are able to conceal your identity / presence with ease (survival dr’s, fame dr’s)
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
impact.
♡ you make people feel more motivated.
♡ you have an aesthetic named after you.
♡ you have popularized a signature style.
♡ you have popularized a signature makeup style.
♡ your the face / ambassador of your favorite brand.
♡ everything your wear sells out immediately.
♡ you have a recognizable voice.
♡ people don’t get tired of seeing you.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
appearance.
♡ no bad angles.
♡ you have the ability to do any hairstyle.
♡ you are able to recreate any makeup look with ease.
♡ your nail polish doesn’t chip or crack.
♡ makeup does wipe away or smudge when you blow your nose or rub your eyes.
♡ clothes are always fit well on you despite your body type.
♡ immune to bloating / feeling puffy.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
clothing.
♡ clothes are never itchy / scratchy.
♡ clothing never wrinkles.
♡ sweaters never pill.
♡ clothes are always pre-tailored to your body / clothes fit well.
♡ no color looked bad on you / washes you out.
♡ clothes don’t shrink in wash.
♡ shoes (mainly heels) don’t hurt when walking in them.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
hygiene (?)
♡ you constantly smell like your favorite perfume.
♡ you don’t sweat.
♡ hair always looks shiny / healthy.
♡ hair never gets knotty / tangled.
♡ hair doesn’t get damages from heat / products / hair dye or bleach.
♡ you don’t accumulate plaque on your teeth.
♡ you never fell ill or get sick.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
technology.
♡ phone never dies.
♡ phone will never crack or break.
♡ your charger never bends / only works at one angle.
♡ all devices / technology use the same kind of charger & outlet.
♡ always have service.
♡ wifi is never spotty / not working.
♡ people don’t try to talk to you when you have your headphones on.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
action.
♡ you never feel out of breath.
♡ you never feel that sharp side pain that happens when you run for a while.
♡ you know names of all weapons / how to use them.
♡ you know how to heal / mend injuries.
♡ swords / gvns / shields aren’t heavy.
♡ body doesn’t get sore after fighting / working out.
♡ high pain tolerance.
♡ you don’t bruise easily.
♡ you heal quickly.
♡ you have good balance.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.
thank you for reading ! i love you !!!
#reality shifting#desired reality#shifting#shiftblr#shiftok#shifting motivation#shifting realities#shifter
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𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ teen!nanami headcanons
love my emo king so i decided to make headcanons for him because love himso sosooo MUCH <3 I am obsessed with nanami I am sorry guys for the amount of nanami but he is my beloved and my hyperfixation wooooooooooo
lmk if i should make an emo teen nanami as ur bf headcanon ill gladly do it sweetie pies
He is much quieter as a child and rarely speaks. I believe he will be more reserved as a teenager, not because he is shy, but because he dislikes talking to strangers. He is distant, but not unfriendly.
Haibara is the only person who is allowed in his room, and I do not make the rules.
Owned an iPod/iPod touch (even though Nanami is the Samsung king) and he would stream his little emo bands.
As a teenager, he appears to be more immature and irrational, displaying difficulty in controlling his emotions sometimes. Despite his calm exterior, he is still a teenage boy so he has regular outbursts here and there.
HATED IT when he tried one of Shoko’s cigarettes; he most likely took one puff and began to cough as though he was going to die.
Sassy king who rolls his eyes and emo hair flips at least 7 times per second, 24/7.
“Nanami, can you do that thing?”
"Do not bother me at this time, Gojo."
“OH MY GOD YOU DID IT.”
"What did I do."
"The hair flip thing... hahaha you need to cut your bangs."
"I prefer to keep it this way so I can focus on you with one eye and spare the other from seeing more of your face."
Haibara is an extrovert who encourages him to attend events and socialize with others.
His backpack is tidy. His books are neatly organized, and his papers are not crammed together.
He was forced to go to karaoke rooms with Shoko, Geto, Gojo, and Haibara, where he would sit and listen to them sing loudly.
"C'mon, Nanami... sing!"
"..."
“Please?"
"..."
It turns out he was singing all along, albeit softly and quietly, while they sang along loudly to the screen lyrics.
He spaces out a lot when people talk to him because he just wants to go home.
Haibara is subtly affectionate towards him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder like many guys do. He doesn't push him off, but the other guy freezes and maintains some distance.
He once woke up from a nap and found himself wearing eyeliner, black nail polish, and eyeshadow. He immediately ran out to scold Gojo (it wasn't just him) (but he secretly liked it).
"Gojo, what the fuck is this?"
"This is your culture!"
"Please refrain from touching me while I am sleeping."
“Hey! Who said it was only me?”
“Jesus Christ.”
Probably got a double helix piercing (that eventually healed when he became an adult) (sorry guys).
(Though he still has his earlobe piercings as an adult, he just never really wears earrings anymore. Though you can see the various holes.)
Geto accompanied him to get piercings, and despite feeling nervous at first, he ended up loving the experience and feeling badass.
"It feels good, right?"
"Oh, yeah, I suppose," he mumbled, trying to suppress a broad smile. As he arrived at his dorm, a dorky grin spread across his face. He stood in front of the mirror for several hours, hyping himself up.
Listens to My Chemical Romance, Nirvana, Van Halen, Metallica, Guns N' Roses, AC/DC, Linkin Park, Green Day, Foo Fighters, The Strokes, and Paramore. And more. :)
He would probably like gothic characters from cartoons or shows, like Raven from Teen Titans.
If you quietly make your way into his dorm room while he's listening to music, you'll catch him singing out the lyrics to his beloved emo songs. As the music moves him, he'll start air guitaring and air drumming with fervor. However, if he catches you witnessing his private performance, you'll see a flicker of embarrassment cross his face.
Gojo once tried to dye one of his hair strands purple or blue, but he failed. Instead of turning the strand the desired color, it only lightened his hair slightly, resulting in a lighter shade of blonde that looked like gray hair.
"Gojo, you made me look like a grandfather. I should've done it myself.”
"Looks great on you, Nanami! Fits you too since you kind of act like a grandpa.”
"Oh you, son of a—"
He secretly owns a Tamagotchi named Helena after remembering it is a My Chemical Romance song.
Wept when they split up.
Has secretly attended several concerts, raves, and gatherings, enjoying the kindness and energy of the events.
Has previously used an Ouija board with Gojo, Geto, and Haibara, and the "spirit" liked him.
He goes to the Japanese equivalent of a Hot Topic to get his clothes.
He smells earthy and musky because he is emo, and he probably has a cologne fragrance bottle shaped like a skull.
He rarely posted on MySpace, and when he did, it was only about his music and book reviews.
Likely wore a fake lip piercing, a silver skull necklace, and one of those spikey emo bracelets.
Read Scott Pilgrim comics for a while.
He was not too dry, so he used emoticons like "-_-" "-.-" "._. ".-." "^_^"
In his spare time, he enjoys reading books about horror and mystery.
Owned a black Nintendo DS and always handed it to Haibara so he could play with it. Was not upset when Haibara accidentally dropped it in the water, but was sad that he lost his Pokemon progress.
Never had a genuine crush on someone, though when he does he becomes shy and awkward around the person he has a crush on, often finding himself avoiding them like the plague. Whenever he catches sight of them, uncertainty clouds his mind, nerves all over the place.
Despite his efforts to suppress his feelings, they only seem to intensify. This is his first experience with a serious crush, and his initial reaction is to try to shake off the emotions, but he soon realizes that he can't - he's simply head over heels in love.
Whenever he sees them, he does a cute, dorky thing - he goes to his mirror, fixes his bangs, and hypes himself up. He sprayed more cologne than usual, coughed a little, and made sure his skull necklace, helix piercings, and slight eyeshadow looked good. He gives himself several minutes for a pep talk because he still gets so nervous.
He fidgets a lot, constantly finding ways to occupy his hands even when he appears outwardly calm. It's as if he can't help but engage in some form of repetitive movement, whether it's tapping his fingers, twirling a pen, or adjusting his sleeves.
He also stammers a bit sometimes especially when talking to someone he likes.
Talks to Haibara about how he feels most of the time. Out of everyone he trusts Haibara.
He draws on himself when he is bored. He intended to get a tattoo, so he drew on himself to see how it would look.
He has a journal, emphasizing that it's not a diary, where he writes down his emotions. He finds solace in jotting down his innermost feelings as he often struggles to express them verbally.
In his journal, not a diary, he vents a lot. He is frustrated with himself because he is so bad at expressing his emotions. When he wants to, he can't, and he just pushes people away, which he despises.
"Sometimes I wonder why. Why do I have to be like this? I do want to talk to people and express my emotions to them, but I could never. It genuinely scares me, and that is something I want to fix about myself."
Owns several band shirts and wears them to bed. When he is older, they're smaller on him. I wonder why.
When he's out with Haibara and the group, he always wears his headphones and drifts off while listening to music.
“NA-NA-MIIIII!”
*pretends not to hear gojo*
In the modern world, he would be the quiet student who consistently gets top grades, sits at the back of the class, and rarely participates.
When someone shares the same interests as him he tries not to look too excited but ultimately fails.
As a teenager, he adamantly refuses to pursue a romantic relationship but secretly desires one to fulfill his need for affection.
Thus, he spends his time reading romantic novels, gaining insights into how the male protagonists treat their significant others. This newfound knowledge inspires him to learn how to treat his future significant other.
Even though he is mature for his age, he sometimes wishes he had been raised differently. He genuinely feels like he is wasting his youth by not spending more time being a teenager.
Converse + Vans are his specialty and they’re all beat up.
He sees Geto as a fashion inspiration because he is another emo king.
When he's not in uniform, he enjoys wearing oversized, tucked-in T-shirts paired with sleek black pants and a studded belt. His fingers are adorned with multiple rings, and he complements this look with a sleek black watch.
He always spends an extra dollar to buy someone something from the vending machine. Need a soda? He gotcha.
He always seems to be munching on something, whether it's the crunch of Doritos or potato chips. However, he doesn't seem to have as much of a sweet tooth.
an emo king who deserves the world
a/n: i love my goat
#kento nanami#nanami headcanons#kento nanami headcanons#nanami kento#jjk nanami#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujustu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk headcanons#i lovehim#my baby#my precious#nanami kento x reader#emo nanami#jujutsu nanami#kento nanami x reader#kento nanami x you#nanami hcs#my hcs#nanami x reader#kento nanami hcs#nanami kento headcanons#my silly emo boy#the love of my life#i need him#i wish he was real#nanami i love you#im crying#i cant
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Hello, I love your writing, can I request Charles Leclerc x singer!reader where they already knew each other back when they were teenagers but the reader moves to LA to pursue her career so they kinda feel off cuz of the long distance, so years later Charles decides to surprise her at one of her concerts and tries to shoot his shoot after all those years they end up together and it's all fluffy and cute.
Sorry if this doesn't make sense english is not my first language, thank you <3
love this!!! tysm <3
birds of a feather ✿
charles leclerc x reader
summary: fem singer!reader reignites an old teenage love with famous driver charles leclerc
songs: birds of a feather by b.eilish, the 1 by t.swift
author’s note: mostly cute and fluffy but had to add a bit of angst oops! inspo from billie’s new album obv bc that’s all i’m listening to rn. also some google translate involved so oops again if it’s wrong :)
word count: 4k
In the luxurious city of Monaco, you and Charles were cruising along the winding roads late at night, a favored pastime for the two of you. The cool breeze tousled your hair as the windows were rolled down, filling the car with the scent of saltwater and adventure. You stole a glance at Charles in the driver's seat, his face adorned with that familiar boyish grin, his eyes sparkling just as they did on the day you met him.
The car zoomed down the winding road, its expensive engine purring like a contented cat. Despite its luxurious interior, Charles had no qualms about letting you put your feet up on the dash. The scarlet sky painted with streaks of orange and pink was the perfect backdrop for this drive at sunset.
One thing different about this drive at sunset was that one of your own songs was playing on the radio. At only 19 years old, your song “Birds of a Feather” was reaching the top of the charts worldwide. At any chance he got, Charles would blast it at full volume whenever the two of you were together. It only made sense considering the song was about him.
You and Charles had been inseparable since childhood, a bond that felt unbreakable and essential to your very existence. Over the years, you both had your fair share of romantic partners, but it seemed like none of them could compare to the connection you shared. Despite any ups and downs in your own love lives, you and Charles always found your way back to each other, like two ships anchored together in the stormy sea of life.
Of course, there were fleeting moments when you wondered if there could be something more between you and Charles. The thought would cross your mind as his hand brushed yours or when he made you laugh until your sides ached. But those thoughts remained just that - fleeting and unspoken. You both cherished your friendship too much to risk changing its dynamic.
But deep down, underneath layers of familiarity and comfort, there was a quiet longing that neither of you acknowledged. A shared understanding that there was something more between you than just being best friends. And although it was left unsaid, it was an unspoken truth that added a layer of depth to your friendship.
The bass of the song throbbed through the car, drowning out Charles' words as he spoke to you. You strained to hear him over the music, but all you could see were his lips moving in time with the beat. "What?!" you shouted comically with a grin, and he reached for the volume knob to turn it down.
"I said, it's only a matter of time before you're touring worldwide," he repeated with a small smile. You shook your head in amusement. Charles always had grand visions for your music career, dreaming of reaching the stars and achieving the highest goals even when you couldn't imagine them yourself.
“You’re only saying that to be nice,” you playfully bantered with him, knowing deep down he truly believed in your talent.
A wistful smile crossed his face as he replied, “I’m serious. Before you know it, you’ll be in L.A., living your dream and making music for the world.” His words had a bittersweet edge to them, causing your own smile to falter. There was truth in his statement - Charles had just signed with Ferrari and would soon be the busiest he's ever been in his career as a Formula One driver. You were endlessly proud of him and all that he had accomplished. It feels like just yesterday when you both were just kids with big dreams, but now here you are, actually making strides towards achieving those dreams. Even with a hit song on the radio and promising opportunities ahead, you still felt like you were ages behind in becoming someone big in the music industry. And the thought of possibly leaving your best friend behind as you pursued your dreams weighed heavily on your heart.
He noticed the solemn expression on your face, his eyes full of understanding and affection. "Ah, come on," he said gently, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You know I mean that in a good way." His voice was warm and sincere."L.A. is a hotbed for the music industry right now," he continued, his excitement palpable. "And haven't you always talked about wanting to go to the States?"
You nodded slowly, unable to contain a small smile at the thought. "Yeah, but...I can't even imagine us being apart for so long," you admitted with a hint of sadness. "We've never been separated for more than a week. And even then, you were blowing up my phone every day." You couldn't help but laugh at the memory.
His own laughter rang out, contagious and genuine. "So now you know that when you're in the U.S., you won't have to worry about us not talking," he reassured you. "Clearly, I can't get enough of you." His words made your heart swell with love and comfort. Despite any ridiculous or anxious thoughts that may cross your mind, you were always reminded that the bond between you two could stretch thousands of miles.
About a week later, you had hired a manager with the help of your parents and were looking at record labels to sign with. Your social media pages were blowing up with new fans anticipating and begging for new music. It was a rightful step for a singer who had just had a song blow up, to make more music.
After many phone calls and contracts, you decided on the best deal to sign with the record label you had always wanted. With a location in Los Angeles, Sony Music Entertainment was your new employer.
As the days passed, the familiar childhood bedroom in Monaco slowly transformed into a maze of boxes and packing materials. The bittersweet scent of nostalgia clung to the air as you said goodbye to the people and places that had shaped you. It was early February, just before the newest Formula One season started, but Charles seemed to be swallowed up by his work, juggling the responsibilities of being their rookie driver. In those fleeting moments between racing events, he squeezed in time for you, knowing that soon you would both be consumed by your separate paths. On the last night together, you took a nostalgic drive around town, savoring every street corner and landmark. As the sun dipped below the horizon, you returned to your house - now empty and cold without all of your belongings. The silence hung heavy in the air as you sat side by side, cherishing these final moments together.
You both sat on your bed as you rested your head on his shoulder and asked, “How did this even happen?”
“Your talent will always drive you towards success, how could it not happen?” He replied and it made your eyes water. You weren’t sure how you were going to adjust with your time apart. You’ll miss his advice and little jokes. You’ll miss your late night drives around Monaco with him, taking in the cool air.
As he turned to face you, his piercing eyes caught the glistening trails of tears streaming down your cheeks. His own expression shifted from concern to sadness as he took in the sight of your heartbroken state. With a heavy sigh, he reached out to gently wipe away a stray tear from your cheek and murmured, "Please don't cry." Your eyes met his with a solemn understanding, but your bottom lip began to quiver despite your efforts.
You couldn't help but notice the glimmer of tears in his own eyes, which only made your own tears flow even more freely. Together, you both sat on the edge of your bed, gripping each other's hands tightly as you cried until it became almost comical at just how much emotion was pouring out of both of you. In between sobs, he managed to let out a small laugh and said, "It's not even an actual goodbye, I'll see you again soon.”
You couldn't help but laugh along with him through your tears. "I know," you replied with a watery smile. "I'll see you before I know it.”
But as the night wore on and the hour grew late, the reality of tomorrow morning's early flight to L.A. began to sink in. Despite wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as possible, you both knew it was time to say goodbye. You stood up and shared one final embrace, his arms enveloping you in a tight hug while yours rested around his neck. The warmth of his body and the familiar scent of his cologne brought a sense of comfort amidst the pain of parting ways.
“Tu vas me manquer mon amour,” he whispered by your ear, which made you squeeze him tighter.
“Tu vas me manquer davantage, Char.” You replied with a raspy voice, your cheeks still wet with tears. He blew you a kiss before walking out the door.
~ 5 years later ~
The electric energy of Los Angeles, California pulsed through the air as you walked towards the venue on the opening night of your highly anticipated second tour. Fresh off the massive success of your second album, fans from all over the world were eagerly awaiting your performance tonight. You could already hear their screams and see their signs, some bearing your name since the very beginning of your career. Your first tour had been small, just a few cities in the U.S., but now with your skyrocketing fame, this tour would take you to stages across the globe. The thought of performing for thousands of people in different countries sent a thrill through your veins. As you approached the entrance, excitement and nerves intertwined within you, ready to take on this new chapter in your music career.
As you nervously waited backstage, dressed in a stunning white gown for your highly anticipated opening night in Los Angeles, your mind couldn't help but wander to a familiar name: Charles. The two of you had been inseparable during your first year in L.A., constantly talking and supporting each other's dreams. But as time went on, his calls and texts became less frequent until they eventually stopped altogether. You found yourself relying on social media to keep up with him and were happy to see that he had found success with Ferrari, but also couldn't shake the feeling of hurt and confusion as to why he had suddenly disappeared from your life. You debated reaching out to congratulate him on his wins, but deep down, you knew it wouldn't make a difference.
The next years after that became hard, and you struggled to make genuine connections with anyone in the industry. You found that often other artists wanted to use you for their fame or publicity. But you had found one genuine person, your boyfriend. The two of you dated for two years, but two weeks before the opening night of your world tour, he broke things off. You were devastated, as he had become someone you loved dearly and could trust with your whole being. His reason was that he realized he couldn’t handle your level of fame and that it was becoming too much for him to handle.
So here you were, backstage, reminiscing on your career up until this point. Your mind ran over the setlist a thousand times. “Birds of a Feather” hadn’t made the cut for this tour, and you stopped performing it all together once Charles had stopped communicating with you. You weren’t sure why he was on your mind so much for your opening night.
As you stepped out onto the stage, a wave of excited nerves washed over you. But with each step and movement, your confidence grew until it radiated off of you like a second skin. The bright lights illuminated your white dress, making it glow against the dark backdrop. You knew this dress well, having spent hours upon hours rehearsing in it, mastering every twirl and flick of the sleeves. And now, as you sang and danced flawlessly, you felt like a true star. Every note was hit perfectly, every movement graceful and deliberate. It was as if you were born to be on that stage, commanding the attention of everyone in the audience. The familiar click of a metronome and the muffled directions from backstage played in your in-ears, guiding you through the performance like a well-oiled machine. You had become a masterful performer, honing your craft to perfection.
You wished you could remember every moment of this night as you went through the setlist. You performed “the 1”, a song from your most recent album. Fans speculated it was about the recent split with your boyfriend, but really in your mind you knew it was about Charles. Your fans mostly were unaware of Charles and the old friendship the two of you had. He rarely talked about you in the media, and you were never asked about him, even though the two of you were individually growing more famous by the day.
As the final song ended, you returned backstage, the sweat dripping down your face and your body heaving with exhaustion. This tour was more physically demanding than your last one, with intricate dance routines and high-energy performances. But it was all worth it as you heard the crowd's roar of approval after each song and saw their hands in the air, singing along to every lyric. The adrenaline rush and satisfaction of a flawless opening night kept you going despite the fatigue setting in.
You got a flood of compliments from your team and the crew backstage as you felt the dewy feeling of sweat on your forehead cool down. Your manager came up to and wrapped you in a big hug, congratulating you and updating you on the next steps for the tour.
“I know you don’t typically meet people after shows, but there’s actually a visitor here for you. He was pretty persistent.” She told you as you stood outside your dressing room.
“Who is it?” You asked tiredly, not wishing for long interactions with people after the show. You were worn out, and typically napped or slept through the night after a long show.
“He said his name is Charles Leclerc. Went on about how you guys were childhood friends. He showed his ID and credentials so we allowed it.” Your manager explained everything and as she was speaking your face became flushed. Charles was here, in L.A? And your management had allowed him to meet with you. You were partly in shock and partly frustrated with how easily he was able to persuade your team.
“Well…where is he?” You asked, and your manager pointed to your dressing room door. “He’s in my dressing room?” You questioned in a surprised voice, lowering your voice in case he could hear you.
“We weren’t sure where else he could’ve waited. He made it seem like he needed to have a serious talk with you.” She explained further and you put your head in your hands. You couldn’t believe the words that had come out of her mouth, and thought that maybe she was joking. You thought that you’d open up your dressing room door and it would be empty, earning a loud laugh from her and a “Got you!”
As you slowly opened your door, still clad in your flowing white dress, your heart caught in your throat as you saw Charles sitting on the plush brown leather couch. The air was thick with surprise and a tinge of nervousness, evidenced by Charles' fidgeting hands rubbing against his pants. You could barely breathe as you managed to utter a breathless greeting, "Hi."
He stood up abruptly, his body language tense and unsure. “Hi,” he replied.
The silence hung between you like a heavy curtain as you asked, "What...um...what are you doing here?" Your fingers instinctively ran through your slightly tangled hair as you waited for his response, feeling both overwhelmed and curious about this unexpected visit.
As he stood before you, he seemed to struggle with his words, his voice catching and pausing as if trying to contain an overwhelming emotion. You gazed at him in awe, taking in every detail of his changed appearance. The dimple in his cheek still deepened when he spoke, the same crystal eyes sparkled with unreadable emotions. But now his shoulders were broader, defined muscles rippling beneath his shirt, and his neck had thickened with strength. It was clear that time had passed, but it had only enhanced his features instead of diminishing them. "I," he finally managed to say, his gaze never leaving yours, "I came here to apologize." You couldn't believe he was standing in front of you after so long. And in this moment, all you could think about was how much you missed him and how different things could have been if he had stayed.
“Apologize?” You repeated, awaiting further clarification.
“I’ve missed you terribly.” He began to pour out, finally getting a grip on his words, “Every day we haven’t been together has haunted me. You’ve plagued my dreams, my every waking thought.” He took a swallow, “I see you online, doing amazing things, and I just feel this guilt that I’m not there with you.”
You could hardly believe the words he was saying. You felt the same, you missed him every morning you woke and every night you went to sleep. Yet you felt a tinge of resentment. He could have been there, he could have responded to your dozens of calls and texts.
“I’m sorry, mon chérie.” He finished his speech.
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and your eyes watered with emotion, your face contorted with hurt. Your voice came out breathless as you spoke, "Char, why didn't you call?" Your heart ached with longing and you couldn't understand why he hadn't taken action to bridge the distance between you. The unspoken desire between you was almost tangible, making the current situation even more painful for both of you.
“My ex-girlfriend, once we got together she saw how often we communicated and told me that I couldn’t talk to you anymore. And I thought I loved her so much that I was willing to do whatever it took. But…it turns out…” He paused, looking you in the eyes.
“What?” You questioned, waiting for him to spit it out.
“It turns out as the years went on, that I just loved you.” He said as he stepped closer.
“You don’t mean that,” You denied shaking your head, a single tear running down your cheek.
“But I do,” he grabbed your hand, “I think I’ve always loved you.”
You broke out into a grin while tears still fell, and wrapped your arms around him, burying your head into his chest. “What took you so long?”
“I’m sorry mon amour, I guess I was just too stupid to actually do anything. But I love you, I love you so much.” His arms wrapped around your waist, kissing the top of your head.
You pulled back and placed your hands on his face, admiring his mature features. He took his thumbs to wipe off the tears on your face. “I love you too,” You told him and he grinned. “Will you finally kiss me?”
His lips met yours in a gentle, yet passionate, kiss. As your heart raced and butterflies fluttered in your stomach, you couldn't help but smile as his lips moved against yours. It was your first kiss with the love of your life, a moment that you would never forget.
You had always known deep down that he was the one for you, but you had spent so long convincing yourself that a friendship was all it could ever be. But now, as you felt the warmth of his embrace and the intensity of his kiss, you realized that the love of your life could also be your best friend - the person who knows and understands you better than anyone else in the world. And in that moment, you were grateful for every step that had led you to this perfect moment with him.
Charles had to return to his Formula One season, but the two of you called every day. He made it to shows on your tour when he could, and when you traveled to France to play your home show, he was there for every minute of it.
The crowd knew that this show was special, and fans had picked up on the new romance between you and Charles. Everyone was loving it, and older fans finally put the pieces together on the connection the two of you had. So for your home show, you played “Birds of a Feather” for everyone as a surprise, with Charles in attendance. The song had only changed meaning slightly, as you sang it with more love towards him than you’ve ever had before. Headlines were soon filled with your name along with his.
As the next year rolled around and January came, the two of you were inseparable at award shows, him proudly by your side for every one of your achievements. His smile lit up the room and his hand always found yours in the sea of people. Even when you won your first Grammy, he was there in all of your acceptance speeches, his eyes sparkling with pride.
As the year went on and you took a break from touring, you joined him on the road during his racing season. The roar of engines and smell of burning rubber filled your senses as you watched him race with skill and determination. The paddock quickly became like a second home to you, with fans flocking to meet the both of you. The Ferrari team welcomed you with open arms, treating you like family. It was a dream come true to be able to share this passion with him, and you couldn't imagine a better way to spend your time off.
Charles never dulled your shine; in fact, he basked in its radiance. He was not intimidated by your fame, but rather, he reveled in it. As you both shared stories about past relationships, Charles' understanding became apparent. He may have been known for different reasons, but he knew the highs and lows that came with celebrity status. Together, you formed an unbreakable bond of understanding and support. Life had become akin to heaven with Charles by your side, a constant source of love and grounding amidst the chaos of fame.
Together, you moved into a luxurious apartment in the heart of Monaco. The spacious living room had been transformed into your personal music studio, with instruments and recording equipment scattered about in organized chaos. The walls were adorned with posters from your past tours and handwritten lyrics. Charles stood by the window, looking out at the stunning view of the city below, while you strummed your guitar on the plush couch. The sense of security and stability he brought to your life was palpable - his presence assuring you that he would always be there, no matter where your music took you. As you played him your latest compositions, his fingers effortlessly danced across the keys of the piano, adding depth and richness to the melodies. Together, you created magic in that space - harmonizing not just in music but also in life.
As you laid in bed one night, your head rested on the pillow turned towards him, you caught him staring at you. You grinned, “What?”
“Nothing, I’ve just never seen someone more beautiful before in my life.” He told you in a low voice, smirking at you. You rolled your eyes playfully, knowing you should’ve expected him to shower you with compliments.
You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, “Je t’aime chéri.”
You both settled into bed, cuddled up next to each other. He kissed your temple, “Je t’aimerai toujours plus.”
#charles leclerc#f1 x reader#formula one#formula one fanfic#formula 1#formula 1 fanfic#f1 fanfic#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x female reader#f1 fic#f1#f1 imagine
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Bestie I literally just read flower and I’m OBSESSED and I can imagine y/n trying to turn tattooh into a swiftie whilst he tries to explain the rap beef to y/n 😭
no bc this was such a good and unique idea i had to write a little something for it !!
wordcount: 1.3k
. . .
“Okay, so what was it again?” Y/N asked, a dip between her brows as she fastened the bow on a bouquet of flowers she was completing for a baby shower they had been invited to next weekend.
“So Kendrick-”
“The guy who featured on Bad Blood?” Y/N double-checked.
Harry chuckles, “I mean he’s also a Pulitzer Prize winner but that too.” She nods, waiting for him to continue, “So he featured on a song with a bunch of other artists basically taking aim at J Cole and Drake-”
“Oh I know him, he posted a picture of him and Taylor on his Instagram that one time two years ago,” Y/N says.
Harry nods, desperate to finish explaining to her the current online events he had been obsessively keeping track of over the past twenty-four hours, “Right, right. So anyway,” Harry continued to explain the ongoing tension in the world of rap circling the internet with Y/N nodding a long, nothing but confusion on her face.
Amongst many things, Y/N and Harry’s music tastes were polar opposites. Whilst Y/N loved pop - Taylor Swift, Chappell Roan, Olivia Rodrigo - Harry tended to lean more towards alternate music, genres like rap and grunge or anything before the 2000’s. He loved rock bands like Nirvana and Pearl Jam. On their first New Year’s Eve together, they’d spent the entire night at a karaoke bar in the city, four Shania Twain sons deep by the time the clock hit midnight.
Although they were at opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to their music tastes, they loved talking to each other about what they were listening to. They would share their weekly Spotify stats over dinner at the end of each week and make playlists for each other to listen to whenever they were taking the train somewhere.
As Harry finished explaining, Y/N picked up the bouquet and carried it over to where he was sitting, placing it on the table in front of him.
Even as he was speaking, Harry automatically reached out to slide an arm around her waist beneath her fuzzy, pink cardigan rubbing circles with his thumb over the exposed bit of skin on her hip.
“That sounds… really complicated, H.” Y/N sighed, “I’d hate to get into an argument like that.”
Harry smiled at how adorable she looked with pouty lips and concern on her face, “Lucky for you flower, y’ much too difficult to get into any kind of argument with.”
Harry and Y/N rarely had major arguments. Typically, their disagreements were over minor or unimportant matters, often ending with Harry showering her with kisses as an apology or Y/N clinging to him until he forgave her.
“And he wants Drake to die?” Y/N gasps, “That’s awful.”
Harry nods, watching her hands carefully move around the flowers in the bouquet to get them in the perfect place. “Hmm, ‘s not the nicest thing to say to a person,”
Y/N sighed, sitting on his thigh when her legs got too tired from standing. His lips puckered against the base of her exposed neck from where she had tied her curls up with a scrunchie. He inhaled the floral perfume he had bought her for Valentine’s Day. She was obsessed with it, dousing herself in it every morning and before she went to bed.
“Have you listened to Taylor’s new album by the way?” Y/N wondered, turning to hook her leg over his other thigh so she was straddling him. She was pressed between him and the worktop, her arms moving around his neck and fingers fiddling with the curly baby hairs by his neck.
Harry winced, “Ummm…”
“Harry,” Y/N huffed, “You said you would listen to it so I could talk you through it track by track.”
“I know! I’m getting to it, y’know I’ve jus’ been busy this week.” Harry stated, which was true. It had been the school holidays and a lot more customers had visited both their shops than usual.
“The album came out weeks ago,” Y/N said, pushing herself off of him to start putting everything away for tomorrow.
Before she could take one step, Harry grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him, “I will, baby - promise, I’ll get to it and then y’ can talk for as long as y’ want all about it. Y’ can even put your pj’s on and show me y’ little dance y’ used to do when I heard y’ havin’ y’ little solo parties before we met,” He smirked against her neck.
Y/N blushed, clearing her throat and moving away. Her eyes narrowed, “You better.” She walked back to the front desk, “And they weren’t solo parties! Marsh was there too,” She said, referring to her little cat.
. . .
During her lunch break, Y/N reached for her bag to eat the pasta salad Harry had prepared for her that morning before they left for work. When she unzipped the bag, she found his Star Wars lunchbox inside instead of her own.
She slid off her seat and walked straight to his tattoo shop next door, knowing he had probably mixed up their lunches and ended up with her Cinnamoroll one.
She pushed the door open, expecting to hear the strums of an electric guitar or the low grovel of an indie rock band playing over the Bluetooth speakers. But instead, she was shocked to hear the voice of her favourite singer.
Her heart soared even before she saw him as she walked past the front desk. "Hey Mike, what's with the music?" She asked as if she didn’t know already.
“Harry insisted he put it on this morning. You have to go in there and tell him it’s killing the vibe.” Mike grumbled, taking a puff of the vape in his hand.
Y/N smiled, “I quite like it.”
“Of course you do,” He rolled his eyes.
Y/N walked through to the back rooms where she heard the steady sounds of a tattoo gun. Her eyes found Harry, deeply focused on the design he was tattooing on someone’s wrist.
Y/N stood to one side and waited patiently, “Okay that’s all done,” Harry clicked his tongue, pushing his chair away and wrapping up the tattoo for the customer.
After the customer had left, she stepped into the room, “Hi Harry,” She beamed, floating over to him. He looked so cute and cuddly today, wearing a grey sweatshirt and black trousers with his usual Doc Martens and a navy-coloured beanie to cover his curls.
A smile carved onto Harry’s face, “Hi flower,” He removed his gloves and met her halfway, pulling her into a hug and kissing her softly.
“Missed you,” She murmured against his lips.
“Miss you always, flower.” He brushed a loose curl behind her ear, “Thought I wasn’t meeting y’ ‘til later?”
“Oh,” She pulled out the lunchbox and handed it to him, “I think we got our lunches mixed up,”
Harry furrowed his brows, grabbing the plastic bag with his lunch inside only to find her pink lunchbox instead. He chuckles, “Ah, must have been the early morning getting to me.”
“S okay,” Y/N grins, “I like your music choice by the way.”
Harry smirked, “Promised a girl something,”
“Oh really?” Y/N’s grin deepened, “Well I’m sure she’ll be very happy you kept your promise.”
“I’ve been thinking about her all morning, getting to hear her talk non-stop later about her favourite songs.” He says, her arms sliding up his torso to meet at the back of his back.
She stood on her toes, his head dropping and their noses brushing together, “All morning?”
“All the time,” He breathes, “Can’t seem to stop thinking about her since I met her.”
“Hmm, well she’s a very lucky girl.” Y/N murmurs.
His lips met hers, the low light above shining down on them as the Tortured Poets Department came to an end and ‘Lover’ played on shuffle over the speakers of his tattoo parlour.
#harry styles fic rec#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles#harry styles blurb#harry styles x reader#harry styles imagines#harry styles fanfic#harry styles imagine#asks#fic rec#harry edward styles#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#flower series#tattooartist x innocent reader
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Shameless
⟡ Husband!Jongho ⟡
∞ Author: bvidzsoo
∞ Pairing: Choi Jongho x female reader
∞ Warning: suggestive, violence, torture, death, cursing
∞ Word count: 2.5k
∞ Genre: non-idol!au, mafia!au, marriage of convenience!au, established relationship!au
∞ Summary: Always hungry for more, in a world full of men who fought for more power, you might have just hit the jackpot by coming to an agreement and marrying the country's mafia leader's son. Soon, Jongho and you will be the one leading all.
∞ A/N: Second part of my so-called mafia drabble mini-series is up, and I quite like this one, I can't lie hihi. Despite the warnings, I haven't detailed anything too much, so it's not very graphic. Next I'll post either Seonghwa or Wooyoung, I'll see who's plot I'm feeling more. I'll point out once again that I won't be starting a taglist for this mini-series, so you'll have to lurk around ^^ Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy, and pls let me know your thoughts about it, I love reading your feedback, always!
⟡ Listen to this before or while reading! ^^
∥ Hongjoong ∥ Seonghwa ∥ Yunho ∥ Yeosang ∥ San ∥ Mingi ∥ Wooyoung ∥ Jongho ∥
The quietness of the building would have been eerie if I didn’t know men hid around every dark corner, cameras encompassing the whole building. However, to those unknowing, it gave the false sense of aloneness. In my world, there are eyes on you always, even when you least expect it. And in a notorious mafia leader’s den, you better prepare yourself to face horror upon horror, rats upon rats. And not the animals, but mere peasants—low in the hierarchy of our world—who thought they could outsmart their leader and gain something by ratting them out to other gangs and syndicates. Except, that’s not how it works in our world, at least not in my husband and mine’s.
My heels clicked loudly against the concrete stairs as I ascended them, fur coat slipping from my shoulder as I held my little purse in one hand. It was slightly warmer up here, and more well lit compared to the downstairs. I rounded the corner and was met with two tall men, gazing straight ahead, until I stopped in front of them and caught their attention. Recognition flashed behind their eyes instantly. It wasn’t too often I stopped by the warehouse, I preferred fancy places and not beaten down lairs that had insects crawling around. Both figuratively and literally.
“Ma’am.” Both men bowed their heads in unison, eyes staying glued to the floor as I smiled, allowing my fur coat to slip down my shoulders.
“Do you mind putting this away for me?” I asked with a sweet tone, extending the expensive fur coat towards the man standing to my left.
“No, ma’am, it will be in your office this instant.” The man bowed his head again before he turned right and took off hurriedly, headed for my office. Well, it wasn’t my office per se, but my husband was sweet enough to let me have a decent sized room in this gloomy warehouse of his for when my presence was mostly needed. Like tonight.
“Is he in his office?” I asked as I looked towards the large oak doors at the end of the hallway, but the remaining security guard just shook his head.
“No, ma’am, he’s in the chamber.”
“Ah.” I chuckled, looking down towards the dark hallway on my left, suddenly registering the soft classical music that was coming from the only room down there. The chamber, or, better known, the torture room. For some reason, the men working here avoided calling it that and it had always amused me. Tough, bulky, fearless men uncomfortable to call it the torture room? It’s rather comedic, taken what their jobs in my husband’s empire require most of times from them. I offered the guard another sweet smile before throwing my purse over my shoulder, holding its paper-thin strap decorated with the finest diamonds on Earth, “I’ll be on my way, then.”
The guard bowed his head deeply and as I took off, the sound of my heels echoing around us, the soft classical music louder the further I walked down the hallway. The long sleeve of my dress did an amazing job at keeping the chill in the air away from my body, the fabric a black velvet and really warm. It was a present from my dearest husband, not even a week ago. I had gotten him a necklace filled with diamonds, and so, he felt it necessary to return the offer by buying me something pretty. He knows I have a weakness for long sleeved black velvet dresses with a deep V-cut. I chuckled as I stopped in front of the white door, the screams of whoever was behind the door not so quiet anymore. The music from up-close wasn’t loud enough to mask the pained moans anymore. I gripped the handle and pushed the door open, stepping inside.
There was a stale smell in the room and my eyebrows furrowed as I shielded my nose, the stench of blood familiar yet still disgusting. The clicking of my heels was masked by the overly loud screams of the man as I walked further inside the room, looking to my left. A man that looked slightly familiar was strapped down to a table, a drill buzzing as it rammed against his leg, no less into his bone. I shot him a pitiful look, the man begging louder and louder for it to stop as he noticed me. But in this den full of lions, I wasn’t the boss. It was my husband.
Choi Jongho.
Looking ahead, I was greeted with the familiar sight of him, relaxed into his leather armchair, swirling his bourbon around in his glass. I smiled at him sweetly as I slowly approached him, stepping on black carpet as Jongho watched me with attentive eyes, slightly darker in this lightning than they actually were. It made me grin in satisfaction when I noticed the diamond necklace around his neck, the top of his shirt undone. Well, that certainly was a delicious sight.
I came to a stop in front of the man, grin morphing into a smirk as he further parted his legs, grabbing my wrist to pull me to stand between them. Jongho took another gulp of his bourbon before placing the empty glass on the little table he had by the armchair, letting his head fall back as he looked up at me, sharp eyes trailing up from my legs to my eyes, biting his lower lip once we made eye contact.
“You look pristine for someone who’s torturing somebody.” My voice was low, perhaps sultry for such setting, but then again, I always found joy in toying with my dear husband when the situation wasn’t too fit for it.
“Hoshi just left, I wanted to be the one finishing the job.” Jongho’s usually angelic voice was now low, baritone rumbling his chest. I licked my lips, completely distracted by my husband as the screaming man’s voice became quite bearable after a while. I’ve heard people louder and more awful than him, to be fair.
“Of course,” I chuckled softly and gulped down a gasp as I was yanked down in Jongho’s lap, him sitting up properly as he circled my waist with his arm, leaning incredibly close to my face, “you love other people doing your dirty work for you, just to be the one to finish it.”
“If I have hired them, I expect them to do their part of the deal, you know.” Jongho muttered, eyes glued to my glossy lips. I had decided to try out a new lip gloss tonight, it tasted like strawberries. The man’s pained screams became rather pathetic by now as he continued wailing, the sound blending together with Jongho’s favorite musical piece. My husband has always loved a good opera.
“Care to tell me why the man looks familiar?” I threw a glance towards the tortured person on the table as I reached up, fingers tangling into Jongho’s black roots, softly pulling on them as his eyes fluttered just a little.
“He used to be my intel man,” Jongho’s voice was airy, but he gulped and his jaw clenched when my fingers pulled a little harsher at the hair on his nape, “turns out he was the rat sending information to my father.”
I scoffed, jaw clenching as I turned to look at the man laying strapped down to the table. So, he was the reason why Jongho’s, and subsequently my, affairs kept getting sabotaged, “Took you long enough to find him.”
“Don’t mock me, woman.” Jongho snapped, grabbing my jaw and turning my head back to face him, “I worked faster than your pathetic excuses of goons did, didn’t I?”
“No need to get so worked up, honey,” I chuckled, leaning so close our noses brushed together, “however, you could have been smarter about this.”
When Jongho said nothing just raised his eyebrows, his right hand slipping from my waist to my ass to squeeze, I smirked at him, leaning close to his ear, “You should have kept him alive and fed him with false intel, fucked with your father a little, you know?”
When I went to pull back, Jongho gripped my nape and held me in place, lips brushing lightly against my exposed ear as my hair was pulled back in a low bun, “I would have done that if my father already didn’t know that I had found out about this little fucker.”
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, Jongho’s musky scent mingling with the stench of blood making my stomach tighten as I leaned back, the hand holding his nape sneaking towards his neck as I started toying with the necklace I had gifted him, “So, when are we going after you father?”
“As soon as your brother bites down on our trap.” I smirked, excited for the day to come as Jongho’s large palm squeezed my ass once, before softly making me stand up. I knew what he wanted without saying a word, and I grinned as I grabbed my forgotten purse off the floor, opening it. I made sure to bend down just the right amount in front of Jongho, my dress ridding up but not to the point of showing my ass, and I heard him suck in a harsh breath. Bingo, men are so easy. My favorite handgun glinted in the light and I blew Jongho a kiss before walking towards the screaming man, hips swaying in a way I knew would have Jongho hard in no time.
You see, our marriage wasn’t out of love, it wasn’t even close to that of a forced one. Our marriage was of convenience, both of us hungry for more and determined to do whatever we had to in order to get to the top. Jongho’s father, the most powerful mafia head in the country, and my brother, the second most affluential man of our country, were our targets. Once both were gone, Jongho and I would be ruling over everyone and everything in this damned country. And we were so close to finally getting what we wanted, five years of hard and diligent work finally getting repaid as his father was getting sloppy with his trades, and my brother arrogant to the point he was making banal mistakes even a newbie wouldn’t make. Soon, the empire would be mine—and Jongho’s. Soon, people would be bowing down at our feet, begging for their sins to be forgiven.
I stopped by the man’s side and turned the drill off, his screams ringing for a few more seconds until just his sobs were heard. His body was covered in wounds and bruises as it convulsed, he was as good as dead at this point. I sighed, feigning sadness as I stepped back, walking to the foot of the table, undoing the safety of my handgun. The man’s eyes widened when he registered my presence at his feet, but before he could make a sound, the bullet had already pierced his skull, the silencer on my handgun masking the sound and its lethalness. Claps resounded in the room, the classical music finally over, and I rolled my eyes and turned around. Jongho had an amused smile on his face as he stopped clapping, holding my purse as I slowly walked back towards him, eyes narrowing when he extended his palm, silently asking for my handgun. I reluctantly placed it in his hand and we shared a prolonged stare, our thoughts no doubt the same. If he killed me now, he’d be the next mafia head and yielder of all business. But he placed my handgun inside my purse and then gently placed that on the small table, next to his glass.
As I went to cross my arms in front of my chest and demand to know why he had flown oversees without letting me know first, I was yanked down in his lap again, this time failing to silence my gasp. I steadied myself using his firm shoulders, thighs resting on both sides of his hips, the leather soft against my naked skin. Jongho’s right hand rested on my left knee, slowly gliding up towards my thigh, his palm warm and yet rings cool against my skin. I gulped as Jongho smirked confidently, and quite smugly, leaning up to press our chests together.
“This dress drives me fucking insane,” He rasped, eyes staying glued to my exposed cleavage, “I’m glad I bought it for you.”
I chuckled, but didn’t allow myself to get sidetracked. I already knew Jongho and his tactics when he tried to avoid something, and it was always sex. Well, he wouldn’t get that until he did some explaining.
“Why did you go to Japan?” I raised an eyebrow, glaring down at him despite the way his hands were slowly creeping closer to my panties.
“Had to supervise some cargo before it got sent off.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
At his deadpan voice, I sneered and leaned in his face, glaring into his dark eyes, “Don’t fucking lie to me, Jongho. You have enough men to do that for you. If I find out you’re doing something behind my back, I will kill you.”
“Relax, love,” Jongho chuckled, hand slipping to my ass and kneading the flesh through the lacey panties I wore. I bit my lower lip, hiking myself a little higher up in his lap, “When I made my vows to you, I meant it when I said we’d stay together forever—unless you are conspiring behind my back, about to break my trust.”
“That’s not my style, and you know that.” I chuckled as Jongho’s fingers dug into the flesh of my ass, making me lick my lips just as he leaned up, closing the distance between us. It’s been a week since I last have felt his lips against mine, and I moaned against his mouth as he sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, slowly releasing it with a pop. But I didn’t allow him to pull back as I chased after his soft mouth, our lips moving messily as Jongho’s palm on my ass urged me to roll my hips against his already growing erection. I groaned into his mouth, slipping my tongue past his lips when he opened up enough, our tongues dancing together as he let me explore his hot mouth. His free hand caressed my hip before slowly trailing up my body, cupping my breast and squeezing as I moaned again, gyrating my hips in the right way, slow and teasing, knowing well that Jongho would lose his cool in the next ten seconds. And as I bit his bottom lip, sucking it between my teeth and biting hard on it, his eyes flew open and he hissed, all but almost ripping my panties apart as he yanked them down, urging me to raise slightly up as I smirked, kissing all the way from his jaw up to his ear, taking his earring between my teeth as I licked at his earlobe with my tongue.
The world wasn’t ready for our empire.
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everything he’s ever wanted ➺ k.mbappé
( masterlist )
summary — he should have been on the pitch right now, battling with his teammates for victory but he preferred to be here. at his daughter’s ballet play.
pairing — dad! kylian x black! reader
song — maamou [ dadju ]
cia’s quick rambles — hey guys, hope you’re doing well. got so motivated while writing the next genius part that just had to write this quick blurb. it can either be read as a stand-alone or as small glimpse into kylian’s and amara’s life post mon-amour — also i recommend listening to the song, it fits so much 🫶🏾
if someone had told kylian mbappé seven years ago that this would be his life, he would have called that person crazy.
and now it was his everyday reality.
he thought the day he moved from paris to madrid would be the happiest in his life. but it paled in comparison to the instant when he knew that he had found the woman of his life.
then he thought the happiest day in his life was when he won the euros in germany but it got quickly overtaken when he thought back to the moment where he put a ring onto her fingers after winning the competition. how their kiss had been splattered across every news magazine for several weeks and them having to give thousands of interviews.
but even that meant nothing anymore when he thought back to the day that he saw her in a white dress. the day he vowed to cherish and love her for infinity.
their love story that had started as a healing friendship with both of them having been hurt in the past. and over time it had bloomed into something more, more comfortable — more loving. he had actually thought that their wedding day was the most beautiful and perfect day in his life.
and then came their daughter’s birth and it felt like overdosing on endorphins. if he had been swimming in happiness before, now he was drowning in joy. he had gotten all he had ever wanted from life.
before meeting her, he used to dream about this future and having his own children, with a certain kind of sadness settling deep down when he woke up alone. now he dreaded sleeping because all his dreams had already become his reality.
and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. for most people going to their daughter’s play would seem like the most mundane thing in the world. but for kylian, especially those moments were special.
his eyes were almost sparkling when he watched his little girl twirl in her tutu — her pink princess tutu that she had begged him to buy — while mimicking the teacher’s moves. there was no denying that his little star had him wrapped around her finger. he noticed the looks people threw at him.
women lusting after him while fathers who had taken the time off to watch the play, were staring at him in awe. why was the kylian mbappé here? shouldn’t he be on the pitch right now?
of course he should but he had promised himself that he would be there. had promised that he would be present for her. and this was part of it too.
the lights went out again as beautiful piano music played out in the back and then suddenly his daughter was in front of all the other girls, standing out from the other girls with her pink tutu in contrast to the other white ones.
she smiled brightly as she danced on stage, spinning around in her tutu. his little ballerina. he searched the stage for her eyes and waved once they met which had her grin.
this was heaven. ballon d’ors and champions leagues didn’t mean anything to him anymore. being able to watch his daughter dance meant more. he understood now what toni and luka were talking about when he first joined the team.
it all made sense now. unfortunately for him the play ended way too early. it was too quick over for him — he could have spent hours watching her act around like a ballerina.
the most ethereal moments often passed like a flash.
“papa!”, without forewarning, a little bundle of energy was suddenly clinging to his legs, arms thrown around them. he was instantly brought back to reality while the familiar feeling of comfort spread through his chest.
he smiled as he bent down to pick up his daughter, her small legs wrapping around his hips as he steadied her in his arms.
her dark-hazelnut eyes beamed at him while a huge smile painted her lips, showing to anyone the two teeth that had fallen out.
she was his spitting image, neither questions nor dna test ever needed. from the shape and color of his eyes to his eyebrows — she had inherited everything from him. he was the only one to recognize that their daughter had her mother’s one million dollar smile. the one that had kylian thanking the power above for blessing him. for giving him the chance to find his own family.
“i danced — like a ballerina. et regardes! maman a fait mes cheveux,” she pointed excitedly at her hair that had been braided into four cornrows with little pink pearls at the end of each one. for her small age, her head was packed with long and soft hair — the result of his wife’s never ending care for her hair. different routines and treatment to ensure their daughter had rich and healthy hair. — and look! mama made my hair
“tu es la plus belle fille de tout l’univers,” he pressed tender kisses on his daughter’s cheek, tickling her lightly which had her giggle. the most beautiful sound after her mother’s laugh. — you’re the most beautiful girl in the entire universe
kylian had never truly understood how people could love unconditionally. he could comprehend infinite; it was only understandable after meeting the love of his life. but unconditional — looking over all the mistakes and handing out care and love no matter what?
yeah, that didn’t make much sense to him back then. and then his daughter was born and he was ready to go to war for her. love and care for her no matter how many war crimes she could have committed. he loved her more than life. if she asked him to stop football so he could be home more often, he would quit instantly. she was his everything.
“belle,” she squealed, playing excitedly with the pearls in her hair. “maman too?” — pretty
“of course. maman is the most beautiful woman ever,” he replied and lowered his mouth to her ear. “but we don’t tell her that, okay?”
his daughter nodded firmly, as if he had just entrusted her the nuclear codes to some bombs. “why aren’t you playing with uncle auri? et uncle vini?”
kylian laughed. “parce que je voulais voir ma petite princesse.” — because i wanted to see my little princess
the little girl in his arms nudged him lightly on his head. “je ne suis pas une princesse papa. i’m a ballerina. i dance just like maman.” — i’m not a princess
“and you did that beautifully, my little star,” a voice called from behind him and kylian’s eyes at the sight of his wife.
even after dating and being married, she still amazed him with her beauty everyday. he would always get those tiny butterflies, no matter how many times he looked at her.
her smile still as radiating as ever, she walked quickly over to them —as quick as it was possible with a huge belly — and joined her little family.
the girl in his arms wiggled and kylian put her down so she could hug her mama. being six months pregnant meant she couldn’t pick her baby girl up anymore for the time being but she could still engulf her in big hugs.
“i’m surprised you made it,” she whispered to her husband who placed a tiny peck on her neck.
“i promised i wouldn’t miss those moments. told the coach that i couldn’t be there for the game today.” just like he had said, his priority wasn’t winning anymore. he wasn’t kylian mbappé, the star real madrid player anymore. he was now kylian mbappé, the father and real madrid player. and if being present in his daughter’s life meant missing more matches, he would take it.
“how’s our future little football star?” he asked her playfully and she grinned.
“our baby’s been kicking me the entire play. like since we arrived here it’s been punches here and there — oh, and by the way, the moms have got it out for you, as a heads up.” she pointed discreetly at a small group of women, who were watching them.
“everyone knows i’ve only got eyes for you.” it was true, every living person that had access to social media knew that kylian mbappe was a proudly taken man, who honestly had forgotten that other women existed. he was her man and he felt blessed to be able to call her that.
shoutout to her ex-boyfriend for screwing up.
“you better not. don’t worry i know. and this,” she placed a hand on her stomach, putting it cautiously as their daughter was still speaking excitedly to the belly. “is proof enough. je t’aime.” — i love you
“je t’aime aussi.” — i love you too
his smile was plastered on his entire face, so much it hurt already. but how could he stop smiling, he was just so goddamn happy.
he had been graced with everything he had ever wanted.
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i’ve never loved anything in my life as a footnote.
music? i listen to it everyday just to never be alone with my thoughts. i memorize the chords and the artists name, why they wrote the song and how they connect to it. i psychoanalyse every lyric, i research the producer and what they have spoken about the song and why they chose to go for that beat. i listen to the live version and pay attention to the singers voice and how they enunciate every word their feeling etched into each delivery. i have music tattooed on my heart.
books? i live in them. i emerge myself in the fantasies of others savoring the stories of characters i’ll never personally know. i live in the little fantasies annotating words that make me feel what no human could ever. i make pinterest boards, spotify playlists, even posters, as a way to show my love for them. i rave about it to my friends and still sit in wonder at the end of the day at how words on paper can make me feel alive, can bring me new emotions i’m still yet discovering.
movies? they’re my religion, another form of escape from this world. i watch actors play a part bringing it to life the same way i do in my day to day fantasies. i watch the story evolve and how the director find ways to tell it in 1-3 hours. months of work finally coming together to make the final product. i delve into the actors lives, the set team, hoping ill be able to fill the void set there the second the screen turned black.
i log everything i do.
i watched a movie? letterboxd. i read a book? goodreads. i listened to an album? aoty.
everything i love, everyone i love, will always be important to me. i make a list of thing in my notes app i know you love, your little habits, the color of your eyes when you look at the sun for too long, because i cant afford to not love. i fear my time on earth to be wasted by not giving everything my all. i memorize lines from poetry that make me feel seen, i put posters on my wall for the art i appreciate, i decorate my room in my favorite color just to make the point clear that i love it. ill hug you a dozen times a day and make sure you feel alright. because sometimes loving everything and everyone else more than yourself is easier maybe im scared that if i take away everything i love i wont be sure about who i am. in the dead of night when im alone with my thoughts, without a book in my hand, or headphones blasting music, who am i? the song has ended but the melodies continue, in my head they go round making no space for the thoughts i’m afraid will creep in.
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ACCIDENTALLY IN LOVE | part 18
-meet cute? a cheesy musical number? forget it! love makes itself known to you through a minor car accident, a broken arm, and a treacherously charming temporary chauffeur
CHARACTERS: sukuna x you/reader | jjk characters
GENRE: full-length smau + prose | bad boy x good girl | college au | a lot of firsts | aged-up characters | strangers to lovers | smut | fluff | angst | ooc depictions - soft sukuna ftw
TW/CW: strong/mature language | adult content so mdni on some parts | mentions of alcohol and/or smoking | mentions of injury, promiscuity and bullying | pet names because they're cute with 2D men | toxic behavior | will add more if something arises
MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX
<<prev part 18 next>>
A/N: This contains prose and panels in between. Same for Part 19. This part is just too long to put on screenshots.
If looks could kill, Haibara Yu will be on the kitchen floor in a pool of his own blood with the way Sukuna was looking at him like he was going to pop a vein on his forehead. It was almost comical since he was holding onto a bottle of strawberry milk and looked like he was about to squeeze it broken with how tight his fists were.
“Man, she seems different from the stories is all I'm saying.”
Sukuna eyed him enquiringly, a menacing hint to it as he breathed out slowly. As far as he was concerned, he never heard any bad rumor about you. “What stories?” He noted the defensive note in his tone, his protective side coming out.
“You heard me.” Yu lifted his shoulders slightly to express uncertainty. “She gets invited to all the parties but she declines all of them and everyone thinks she’s a two-faced snob. And I also heard someone claiming that she said she doesn't mix with commoners.”
It explained why Sukuna has never seen you in any of the parties he has been in. He only knew you from school, and if he did see you at any party, he wouldn’t have passed up the opportunity to approach you at least once. He knew himself, and he appreciated beauty. But maybe that was for the better because then, you probably wouldn’t have liked to be in the same breathing space as him with the way he acts in those gatherings.
His facial muscles suddenly rearranged into a scowl, causing the other male to back away. “Who said that?” he hissed. He couldn’t accept what he was hearing. At the same time, he doesn’t understand where the irritation was coming from. He just can’t take it hearing the slander being thrown at you. You didn’t deserve it at all.
“Do those people even realize how busy she is?”
“Dude, I just heard that.”
“I know, but she’s the real deal. Don’t go listening to what those pricks at school are saying. She’s the kindest person I’ve ever known. She’s so nice to me. Me!”
“Figures,” Yu said slowly, smirking.
“Go talk to her. Get to know her. You’ll get the proof you want,” Sukuna challenged but Yu shook his head. “If she’s being nice to evil little Ryomen, then that’s proof enough.”
"You wanna die?"
"Man, I believe you! Geez!"
Sukuna still shot Yu a dirty look as he walked back to the living room, unable to wrap his head around the fact that there were actually people who disliked you. It made him sick.
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PHOTOS/IMAGES/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS GO TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.
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