#this song has been living in my head rent free since it came out its so catchy tf | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xenophilderdragon · 5 days

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Rule #34 Hawks x f!reader NSFW

Rule #34 by Fish in a Birdcage has been infecting me since it came out. It’s so good. It lives in my head rent free so this was inevitable. I went a little harder than I thought I would whoops. Not proofread.

But seriously its such a good song give it a listen

18+ Minors Dni!

Tags: hawksxf!reader, established connection, light bondage, oral m! Receiving, unprotected sex, praise, degradation, Keigo moans like a slut, porn with unimportant plot, choking, inappropriate quirk use, thigh riding, dacryphilia, please I’m just so down bad for this man

I have you strung, strung in my web…

I should have seen my capture coming. It was bound to happen anyways. No matter how careful I was, no matter how many things I got away with, no matter how long I evaded capture, he would always find me.

There was a smug grin on my face as I vaulted over the edge of the wall, leaving a crowd of frustrated cops in my wake. I stuck to rooftops after that, watching with unabashed delight as their little flashing lights zoomed in the complete wrong direction. I roll my eyes and take a seat on the edge of the building, legs swinging like a kid on an amusement park ride. My bag makes a satisfying clink when it hits the hard concrete of the rooftop, and I catch a sideways glimpse of the glittering jewels I was being so poorly pursued for. Another cop car zooms past, still in the wrong direction and I let out a disapproving tsk.

“All that funding and they can’t catch a simple cat burglar…”

“Is that what you are now?”

I don’t fully have time to react until I’m pinned down by his feathers, knocked into the center of the roof so hard the wind leaves my lungs. Fear floods my system and paralyzes me. I know him too well to think I could get out of this unscathed. He stands over me, his eyes enraged slits outlined in that annoyingly breathtaking gold. His wings flap once, twice, as he stares down at me before they settle down and fold neatly behind his back. I shoot him an angry glare, gathering as much spit in my mouth as I can for when he inevitably gets closer to me. He’s never missed an opportunity to gloat.

But Keigo knew me just as well.

In a dizzying flash of red and gold, he’s crouched on top of me, pupils flickering back and forth in size as he studies my face, reading my intentions clear as day. His gloved hand clutches my jaw, tilting my head back until I’m sputtering, choking on my own spit. I flush with irritated embarrassment as I sputter and fight for air. He seems to take delight in this, because even when he steps off of me, his feathers keep my head tilted back, neck exposed to the cold.

A candle burning slowly by the bed…

His bed is soft in the way only stupid amounts of money could buy. Definitely a pillow top mattress, definitely hiding an ungodly amount of blankets under that thick, puffy comforter, and definitely has an egregious amount of pillows touched against the headboard. I bounced as I hit it, my entire body tense, expecting my skin to scrape against the concrete of a holding cell. I try to get a feel for my surroundings, but I quickly realize I’m blindfolded. However, when I feel the soft touch of his feathers against my cheeks, the blindfold comes undone. I should have expected to be taken to a police station, a jail cell, an interrogation room. Anything but this.

There were scented candles–something with sandalwood, his favorite–burning in the corners of the room. I could tell he didn’t use them often. They were tunneling, indicating he didn’t have the time or patience to have respect for proper candle rules. The windows were sealed tight, and I heard the bedroom door click closed softly. The smell quickly became too much. It was nearly suffocating. The candles were the only source of light in the room, and I strained to properly see Keigo in the dancing flames. He stood near the foot of the bed, arms folded. I could hear the soft tap tap tap of his foot in time with the rustling of his wings as I settled my eyes on him. I couldn’t see his face in the dim lights from the flames dancing across the room, but I knew he was more than likely pissed.

Not pissed enough to follow proper protocol this time, it seems.

Shadows tangle like a vine, crawling up the posts within our shrine…

He’s holding something in his hand, something braided and shiny. Rope. I realize too late that I’ve been unrestrained this entire time and could have made an effort to escape, no matter how futile. I crabwalk myself backwards on the bed until my back is flush with the headboard.

“Hands behind your back, Dove,” He orders, using that stupid nickname he gave me years ago. When I don’t immediately do as he says, he leans forward, resting his hands next to my ankles. He has a stern look in his darkened eyes.

“Hands behind your back.” He repeats, his tone making it clear it wasn’t a request. When I once again ignore his wishes, he grabs a fistful of my hair, gripping hard enough to make me whimper. He leans in close enough for me to feel his breath against my neck as he nearly growls out, “If you want so badly to be a criminal, you might as well get used to hearing this. Now, hands behind your back.”

Right now you’re mine, all mine, give in, you’re mine, all mine…

“I should really turn you in, you know. Put your thieving hands in cuffs and drop you at the nearest police station.” Keigo says, stepping back to admire his handiwork. My hands were pinned almost painfully behind my back, ropes weaving between them, up my arms, and looping around my shoulders to ensure no movement. His fist was wrapped around another length rope as he tugged the makeshift collar around my throat, yanking me off balance and headfirst into the annoyingly plush bed. The position of my arms forces me to unintentionally arch my back and Keigo chuckles darkly. The sight seems to put him in a pleasant mood. “But something about seeing you here, wrapped in silk for me, makes me want to bend the rules a little bit. Maybe you’re a bad influence on me, Dove. Making me want to be selfish like this. Making me want to forget I’m a hero for the night and make you beg for mercy. But a slut like you would like that, right? That’s why you always let me catch you, right?”

I don’t know how it happened, really. This game of ours. We both started out on the path to becoming heroes, but something broke in me years ago that pushed me off. While Keigo became a hero, praised and revered, I slid into obscurity, until one day, on a whim, I decided to turn to petty theft. I didn’t plan on doing this for long, nor did I plan on being targeted by the number two hero. However, after that first capture, where Keigo granted me mercy from the arm of the law in a moment of weakness, my small instances of theft quickly became grand heists.

He caught me every time.

“Now are you going to behave?” Keigo asks me, gently placing his hand–now ungloved–under my chin and forcing me to look at him. I give him a look that puts a pleased smile on his face.

I love that you shake when I ravage your skin

No matter how much he pissed me off, I couldn’t deny that Keigo was a specimen. The man is gorgeous, like a statue of a Greek god carved out of marble and the finest gold, brought to life by the touch of Aphrodite herself, and dipped in the finest golden honey. There was even a magazine article where they did that to him, once. Painted him in body glitter that shone like his eyes and dripped honey on his chest. I don’t think anyone knew or even cared what he was modeling for, or if he was even selling something to begin with. They just enjoyed the view.

I teased him incessantly about that modeling gig, much to his dismay. What made it funnier is that the company wasn’t even selling honey. It was a fragrance ad for some sickly sweet cologne that Keigo absolutely hated. I’m sure if I looked around, I’d find a case of the freebies he got from them for doing the ad. He complained for hours about how long it took him to preen his wings after that ad, he never liked to preen himself in public, and flying home with sticky wings invited all sorts of dirt and grime to make itself at home in those crimson appendages.

And if his body wasn’t drool inducing enough, his wings were definitely the cherry on top. Right now, they were smaller than full length, indicating a particularly difficult patrol earlier today. But even so, they were a sight to behold. The deep red of his soft wings contrasted so nicely with every inch of him: his hair that was the color of rolling wheat, his eyes that were pools of liquid gold, his scarred, calloused hands, the khaki of his hero uniform, the black of his bodysuit. He was infuriatingly attractive.

He released his hand on my chin and watched me, far from gracefully, settle back into a sitting position. He’s still in his hero uniform, minus the coat, gloves, and goggles, so every one of his movements had his muscles rippling underneath that skin-tight bodysuit of his. His baggy pants were undone, hanging low on his hips, showing his clearly defined v-line. The pattern of his bodysuit even drew more attention to it, however unintentionally.

It was so slutty. He knew that. I told him that years ago.

“Enjoying the view, Dove?” He coos, drawing my attention away from the barely concealed bulge peeking out of his pants and up to his face, where a cocky smirk rests on his lips. I was torn between the urge to smack him and to kiss him.

“You look like a slut, Keigo.” I mutter, casting my eyes away from him. In response to my words, a small flurry of feathers float around me, barely ghosting around the most sensitive parts of my skin. I shiver at the barely-there touches, to which Keigo lets out a low chuckle. His feathers slide under my clothes, tweaking my nipples and rolling against my clit. I let out a breathy gasp, tilting my head back in bliss. The soft touches of his feathers only serve to distract me from sharper ones cutting away my clothing, leaving behind my unfortunate choice of panties. I only notice when I hear the clatter of his belt on the floor. I don’t shiver from the cold, Keigo keeps his room at a pleasant temperature at all times. I shiver as a feather trails up my neck, watching him stalk closer to me like I’m his prey. He cages me in with his body and places a gentle kiss to the curve of my throat before nipping his way up to the soft skin behind my ear.

“Not anymore than you do, whimpering like that, when I haven’t even laid a finger on you.”

It’s so easy to bite with your hands pinned

My hands clench and unclench in their restraints as Keigo continues to draw needy moans and whimpers out of my throat. His hands are greedy, unable to decide which one wants to fondle my breast and which wants to grab at the rest of me. All but one of his feathers return to his back, leaving one to continue its work against my clit. I fight the urge to squirm, feeling like his feather was not enough. I won’t give him the satisfaction of giving in this early.

“Maybe I should mark you up this time, hmm?” He whispers against my skin, nipping lightly at my collarbone. “Make you go to whatever day job you have covered in hickeys, knowing you could never explain them to your coworkers.” I mewl out at his words, earning an amused chuckle from him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, needy whore? You want people to know you got absolutely ravaged, knowing you can’t tell anyone about it? Who would believe you, anyways? You’re just a petty thief. Who would believe you got fucked by the number two hero instead of spending the night in a jail cell?”

To illustrate his point, he sucks roughly on the skin directly under my jaw, being as messy and over the top as possible. His drool drips down my neck and I’m sure he’s leaving a massive bruise that won’t go away for at least a week.

“Do you think that’ll keep you out of crime for a while? Having to struggle to hide the evidence for as long as my hickeys last? You know better than I do how long the evidence sticks around, considering I only ever see you when you’re acting like a brat.��

Shadows dancing on the sheets

One of the candles burned out during his mission to cover my neck in bruises. I had to strain to see him, if at all. Even as my eyes became hazy and unfocused, I tried to watch his movements, trying to predict what awaited me. The candles weren’t enough of a light source to catch anything but a shadowy glimpse of his skin right before he touched me, leaving no time to brace myself for the onslaught of sensation he brought upon me. My throat was sore from both his mouth and my moaning and my core was aching with a desperate need for relief. Keigo removes his feather from its temporary home inside my panties and whistles softly at the state he’s left me in. I’m panting softly, still kneeled in front of him on the bed–I can’t lay back comfortably with the way my arms are bound. My breaths are heavy and I can smell my own arousal as wetness pools in my panties. He usually taunts me about just how quickly he can get me this hot and bothered, but instead, as he swipes two fingers over my covered slit, he lets out a low growl. When he brings his fingers back up to eye level, I can just barely make out the shininess of my own juices.

“Open up, Dove.” He gently urges, despite shoving the two fingers in my mouth anyways. Instinctively, my tongue wraps around them, much to the delight of the man in front of me. I’m painfully aware of just how much of my own fluids he managed to gather just from his relentless teasing. His eyes drift back down to my spread legs as his other hand squeezes the flesh of my thigh. I notice his eyes dilate for a moment before they flick back up to my face, still stuffed with his fingers, messily drooling down my chin. A devilish smirk crosses his face.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you picked these pretty panties out just for me…”

He spent an embarrassingly long time teasing me with that feather of his before he noticed my panties were practically an exact color match to his wings. They were tastefully bordered with lace, and if he wasn’t the one approving all of his official merch, he would be sure that they were. When he pointed it out, I was quick to try and justify my choice. It was laundry day after all, they were all I had left this morning. However, he wasn’t hearing any of it, flipping me face down into the mattress, gently kneading the curve of my ass.

I hear him groan out when he watches them disappear into the crack of my ass.

“Shit, Dove, you sure these things even fit you properly? They ain’t covering a damn thing.”

Another candle flickered out.

If you obey, I might give you a treat.

“Oh, c’mon, Dove. You said you wanted more. I can’t just give in to you, you know? That’s only for good girls. You’ve been running around the city, committing crimes, making my job harder. I’m taking quite a risk you know, letting you go every time like this. I could lose my license if I get caught giving you special treatment.” He trails his hands down my sides to settle them on my waist, “the least you could do is what I ask. Pretty please, Dove?”

He says it with an adorable whine, like he’s the one begging, even though we both know it isn’t a request. He spent an overly indulgent amount of time tugging on the waistband of my panties, watching with delight as I squirmed and whined out in protest. It wasn’t enough.

Those golden eyes stayed locked onto me as all manner of obscenities left those perfect lips of his.

When he had finally had enough of listening to me whine and beg for more, he lifted me up and slid to the edge of the bed, placing me on his thigh with a dark chuckle. His hands remained on my thighs, looping a few fingers on either side of the waistband of my panties, tugging just enough to make me moan. My balance was nearly impossible to keep like this, the awkward angle of my bound arms had me all but sliding off of him. Keigo, with a shit eating grin, digs his fingers into my hips hard enough to bruise and places another chaste kiss to a sensitive spot on my neck.

“Ride my thigh and keep begging me for more. Maybe then I’ll give you what you want.”

Right now you’re mine, all mine. Give in, you’re mine, all mine…

“Keigo, please! Ngh!” I moan out, my hips rocking back and forth against his thigh. My eyes were hazy, glossed over with lust, as I clenched around nothing. All of my pride has been thrown out of the window, lost completely in my desire for more. Keigo clicked his tongue and swiped a thumb over the trail of drool on my chin.

“Use your words, Dove. You’re a big girl, you can handle getting out a full sentence, can’t you? Or are you too drunk on pleasure from just riding my thigh already?”

This is what he loved the most about our dynamic. Watching me break down for him and only him, knowing he was the only thing standing between me and complete satisfaction. Whether either of us admit it or not, he knows he’s good at what he does. He knows that, no matter what, I’ll always keep coming back for more. No matter how he taunts me, how he wrecks me, how he leaves me limping the next morning.

I was as addicted to him as he was to me.

“Keigo please! I wanna cum! Please make me cum! It’s not enough!” I moan out, tears forming in my eyes.

“Oh how can I say no when you cry so pretty for me, Dove?”

Hope blossoms in my chest when he readjusts his grip to lift me off of his thigh. I try to ignore the sheer amount of my own arousal coating it and even more so the thin trail connecting me to him. He drops me onto the floor like I weigh nothing, and my knees hit the hardwood floor almost painfully.

“If you want to cum so badly, you need to work for it.”

You look so good, there on your knees

Keigo gently cradles my face and coos softly, squeezing my cheeks with one hand. His other hand strokes his hardened cock, already slick with precum.

“So pretty for me, aren’t you? Always been so pretty f’me, no matter how much you glare at me, no matter how much you pretend you don’t like the attention I give you.” He gently nudges his cock against my lips, and I, in a final bout of rebellion, press my lips together, unintentionally letting myself taste his own arousal on my tongue. Keigo growls softly, his golden eyes narrowing in disappointment.

“I’d suggest you wet this cock any way you can while you still can. Naughty whores like you don’t get prep.” He wraps a hand around my throat, not squeezing, but the warmth of his hand is warning enough, “But considering how much you’ve been squirming like a bitch in heat, I doubt you even need it.”

I stare at his hardened cock in front of my face, ignoring the drool pooling in my mouth. I lick my lips and note with delight how it twitches.

Keigo’s cock was always so pretty.

The first time I saw it, I could feel myself drooling. Never have I gotten the urge to put something in my mouth so quickly before. He kept himself well groomed, the smell of his soap hitting my nose as I noticed his dark blonde hairs trimmed neatly. The pink tip was now flushed an angry red and precum dripped down the thick shaft, running parallel to one of the thick veins that I knew felt amazing inside my cunt. He pressed the tip against my lips once more and I parted them, knowing better than to make him repeat himself.

Keigo’s throat fuckings were brutal enough as they were.

He takes a hold of the back of my head and wastes no time in pressing deeper into my mouth. I let my jaw go slack as I gag on his cock, tears already forming in my eyes at the strain.

“Oh, don’t start that now, Dove. You’re only halfway there and I know you can take me better than that.” he laughs darkly and fists my hair, pressing even further down my throat. Despite his teasing words, he works himself into my throat slowly, cursing under his breath at every little groan and whimper I let out in response. He’s gentle and deliberate until my nose presses into the soft tuft of hair on his pelvis. He tosses his head back and bucks his hips slightly, causing me to choke and sputter on his length, trying to swallow the rapidly accumulating drool in my mouth.

“Fuuuck, Dove. Just like that.”

He roughly pulls me back off and I gasp for air before he’s shoving me back down again, my tongue lolling out. He runs a quick hand though his own hair before moving it back down to join his other on my head. Keigo proceeds to thrust himself into my mouth, using his hands to keep me in place. Drool drips down my chin onto my clenched together thighs, and I do everything I can possibly think of for any kind of stimulation. Keigo’s filthy mouth runs nonstop–the man never shuts up–unable to decide between praise and degradation as he fucks my throat like its a toy.

It’s disrespectful, it’s filthy, it’s overwhelming, and it’s flooding my brain with so much arousal I desperately want to reach a hand down and rub my aching clit.

“Such a dirty slut, getting off on sucking dick. Fuck, don’t think I can’t hear those little moans you’re letting out. Don’t think I don’t see the way you’re squirming. You enjoy this, don’t you? Can’t punish such a–oh my god just like that– hungry cockwhore like you with anything can I?” He groans out, his head tossed back in pleasure. His relentless thrusts stutter for a moment before he slows down, sliding me off of him with a wet pop. He turns my head up to face him, and I feel myself clench at the sight of him. His lips were flushed from what I can only assume is from biting them, and his muscular chest heaved with every breath. His eyes were as wild as his hair and practically glowing with need. He looked absolutely feral.

“You wanna cum, right? Well you know by now there’s only one place you’re allowed to.”

Such a good girl knows how to please

“You were always such a good girl weren’t you? Used to be, at least. Now the only way you can behave is speared on my dick.” He croons, his voice wavering as he sinks himself into me fully. He didn’t give me the opportunity to adjust, and I whined at the stretch. My hands clenched around nothing, a mind-numbing combination of pain and pleasure flooding my mind. This was what I needed. This was what I craved.

“That pussy takes me in so well. So warm, so tight, so perfect–fuck!”

Keigo was always vocal. That was just a delightful truth about him. No matter how much he tried to be the hardass hero, he whined like a bitch in heat, even on top. The man never shuts his pretty little mouth, either.

“Shit, Dove. Every time I’m in this pussy I wish I could just fuck you for days on end. Too bad you choose to be a criminal. I could’ve given you a job at my agency. Bent you over and had you for lunch.”

Keigo presses his hand into my shoulder blades, forcing me down even further, arching me against him so he kisses the tip of my cervix with every thrust. I let out a muffled scream, tilting my head up for a moment so I can breathe. He really had an ungodly amount of pillows. Each thrust had me seeing stars and grasping at the air behind me, desperate to hold onto anything for stability. The way my arms were tied behind me had me whimpering and biting into the pillows, desperate to feel grounded. Keigo laughed darkly and sent a feather to dance along the skin of my hands as they clawed for purchase onto anything. I feel the coil in my core tighten almost painfully, and start to squirm around, my orgasm building faster than I can handle.

“Oh, don’t run from me now. You didn’t run when you had the chance. C’mon, Dove, you were doing so good for me earlier, what happened?” He wraps a hand around my throat and squeezes just enough to restrict my airflow, his thrusts only increasing in speed, “gonna cum for me pretty girl?”

Look at me, Look me in the eyes

My eyes are bleary, and I know I have an absolutely fucked-out expression on my face. Whether or not he can see it, he knows it too.

Keigo digs his fingers into the fat of my hips, groaning something out about ‘handlebars’ that I can’t quite hear over the sounds of my own moans. His pace is brutal, and despite the lack of prep, the wet sounds of my arousal echo through the room with his whorish moans.

“Fuck Dove, I hate to have to pull you out of trouble like this but I can’t say I don’t enjoy making you pay for it.” He says,

It always ends like this. I commit a crime, Keigo captures me, I end up in his bed, taking every inch of his perfect cock while he babbles incessantly about how good it is.

But the familiar smack of the headboard is noticeably missing.

“Notice something different, Dove?” Keigo licks around the shell of my ear as he speaks, not even bothering to quiet his loud grunts and groans. “Got a little something special, just for you. I know how much you love when I ravage you, don’t you, little slut? But I can’t be fucking holes in the wall from my headboard hitting it every time you want to act out, right?” He punctuates his words by slowing down his thrusts, instead roughly rolling his hips against mine, remaining bottomed out. I whine out, feeling like I’m being dangled over the precipice of an orgasm. Keigo takes a distinct pleasure in this, leaning over to press his chest to my back, pressing gentle kisses against my spine. I mewl out again, arching my back to press even harder against him.

“A needy little whore like you needs to be fucked nice and good, yeah?” He coos, roughly grabbing my chin, forcing my face out of the mountain of pillows on his bed. I’m drooling and crying from the pleasure, a fact that doesn’t go unappreciated by Keigo.

“Can’t fuck you hard enough with this headboard slamming into the wall, can I? Is that why you keep acting out like this? Not getting fucked hard enough?” Keigo emphasizes his point with a sharp thrust, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in, “good thing I stumbled across these handy little devices. They’re meant for earthquakes, you know? Should be enough to keep me from fucking another hole in the wall, right? You can’t possibly need it harder than this right?”

Before I can fully comprehend his point, his thrusts resume again, brutal as ever. I shoot him a delirious, cloudy eyed stare, only interrupted by a particularly deep roll of his hips, causing my eyes to roll back into my head. Keigo switches his grip, grabbing at my still-bound arms and yanking me back towards him, arching my back almost painfully.

“Fuck, you look so pretty like that.” He groans out, resuming his harsh thrusts, but keeping a firm grip on my chin, “If you keep looking me in the eyes like that I’ll have to test how durable these things actually are.”

Forget yourself, surrender your mind

Keigo loved to fuck me dumb. He loved the idea of making me moan louder than he did. He goes feral when he can’t even hear himself over the sounds of the pleasure he gives me. So whenever he has me pinned under him, vulnerable to his mercy, he shows none. By now, he’s made me cum twice on his cock, each climax rocking through me almost violently, and each time never giving me the chance to properly recover. I was babbling from the overstimulation, drooling and sobbing about everything and nothing all at once. I was gone. Keigo had to hold me up himself, my legs having given out a long time ago, hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, never once slowing down his relentless pounding.

‘S’too much!” I manage to sob out, my legs starting to twitch. Keigo grunts and wraps an arm around my waist before he leans down, one hand wrapping around my throat.

“Oh, no pretty girl. You don’t get to decide that.” He nips at the shell of my ear and I choke out another moan, feeling myself clench around him once more, “you’re going to take what I give you, and you’re going to take it without complaint, understand?

I stumble over my words, broken moans being the only sounds from my lips, before I nod frantically in agreement.

“Good girl. Now sing for me, Dove.” he growls, “I know you want to. You begged so well for me earlier. Cum on my cock. Show me how much you love the way I fuck you.”

Right now you’re mine, all mine. Give in, you’re mine, all mine…

Keigo also loved stuffing me with his cum.

His moans turned from animalistic grunts to needy whines, and his thrusts became sloppy as he approached his own release.

“Gonna fill you up, Dove. You’re lucky I’m even telling you. Dirty fucking criminals like you don’t deserve the courtesy of–fuck–of a warning. You’re lucky I love you.”

“Keigo!” I whine out, already losing myself to the overstimulation. “Love you too!”

When Keigo cums, it's heavy. The man is always busy doing hero work, he probably doesn’t even have time to take care of his own needs. After months of feeling the way he fills me up, I hold the genuine belief that this is the only time he cums. How else can you explain the way his entire body shakes, the way his wings seem to fall apart, feathers floating onto the bed softly. He cums heavy, and he cums a lot. The feeling of him stuffing me full, and feeling his cum leak down my legs nearly immediately has my cunt clenching around him, milking him for everything he’s worth. He whimpers and shudders from the sensation, entire body nearly slumping over from exhaustion.

That didn’t stop him, however. He continued his rapid thrusts, working me through my orgasm, obscene squelches echoing through the room. His moans became desperate and whiny in the way they only get when he’s forcing himself through debilitating pleasure.

Eventually, he slows down enough to undo the ropes around my arms, and I let them fall to my sides with a relieved groan. Keigo pulls out and immediately positions my legs so they’ll hold my hips up for him to admire his work. He shoves two fingers into my abused clit, and I can already imagine the pleased, almost awed look on his face as he works his cum back into me.

“I think you look prettiest stuffed with my cum, don’t you, Dove?”

I can only muster an exhausted moan in response.

“So…you love me?”

“Shut up, bird brain.”

The grin on his face tells me I’m in for a long night.

He was never going to turn me in anyways.

The last candle burned out.

All mine

#hawks mha #keigo tamaki #keigo smut #keigo thirst #keigo x reader smut #i have no excuse #i have no explanation #Spotify

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the---hermit · 1 year

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29|10|2022

Since I started listening for the millionth time to The Magnus Archives I decided that for my bullet journal of next year I'd like to do an Ex Altiora cover page, and so today I tried to come up with an idea (also inspired by some merch rusty quill has done). I am very happy howbit turned out, and I'll be doing something like that for my next bujo. I know I have still two months ahead before I'll have to change notebook, but after I had this idea yesterday I couldn't get it out of my head.

Productive things I did today:

practiced my thesis presentation

day two of making sourdough starter

continued my new re-listening of The Magnus Archives

spend some time drawing (this also counts as self care tbh)

practiced Irish on duolingo

Self care things I did today:

read first thing in the morning

journaled in the morning

went for a walk in the afternoon

Tranquil's studying challenge // day 16

What is your favourite book at the moment? Now, find a song to match this book and explain your choice.

This question is always so hard, I hate picking favourites. I usually say that my favorutie book is Frankenstein by Mary Shelly. For some reason a song that came to mind is Coming Down by Five Finger Death Punch, I was struggling to come up with a song that channeled both the hurt and the anger the Creature rightly feels towards its creator and this one is the one that fits best (I am sure that one of these days I'll think of a song that will fit the book even better). Since the question talks about a favourite of the moment I'll add a bonus one on one of my favourite books of the year so far. There were a few books from which to pick but I chose Hamnet by Maggie O'Farrell because it's been living rent free in my head ever since I read it. I wish I could think of a song that experesses the brotherly love I so adored in the book but the song with the most similar vibe is Our Decades In The Sun by Nightwish. If you have read the book and listen to the song you'll see why. The words, the melody, everything fits perfectly with the book. It's a song I deeply love and even if you have not read the book you should listen to it, because it's so beautiful.

📖: A Certain Hunger by C. G. Summers

#studyblr #studyinspo #desk #study space #notebook #tranquilfallbuddies #myhoneststudyblr #book #bookblr #journal #studying #notes #journaling #productivity #self care #mine #the---hermit

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glialcell7429 · 1 year

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I’ve been rewatching RENT, specifically the 2008 version (imo the best version, also free on YouTube). Since it’s the first musical I ever really got into, it brings back fond memories. It’s been eye opening to catch all the little things I had no appreciation for as a high school freshman, for instance: the song Contact.

I didn’t like the song when I first saw the show because I found it kind of discordant. It felt like a random sexual interlude in between two heart-wrenching songs that felt like it had no purpose other than to be a tonal palette cleanser. But now, knowing more context for the history of AIDS activism at the time, I think I have more insight. When RENT first came out in the mid 90s, there had been a shift in the narrative about HIV/AIDS from a “gay plague” to an illness that could impact anyone and a multitude of reasons beyond sexual (e.g. Ryan White, a teenager and hemophiliac who contracted the disease from a blood transfusion). This marked a valuable shift because it opened the general public to being receptive to funding research, humanitarian aid, etc. as it because more of a public health concern than something that could be banished to a “shameful” region of society and ignored.

However beneficial this increased awareness was, it does sideline the more “unpalatable” people who did contract HIV from explicit, “devious” sexual encounters. So, Angel’s refrain in Contact “Take me” can mean not just “take me [sexually]” and “take me [up to heaven]”, but also “take me [in my entirety]”. Take me as a queer, cross-dressing person who got this disease from unprotected gay sex and realize that your activism includes all of me. Not just the flattering parts of me (generosity and creativity) but my sexual identity and all of its taboo rituals and “distasteful” debauchery that the people don’t want to have to acknowledge to fully support the people living with this illness. HIV and AIDS activism isn’t complete until the conversation includes everyone; even society’s unsavory underbelly. I think the repetition of the word “lover” in Contact as well as I’ll Cover You and the reprise serves a similar purpose. I’ll Cover You is very sweet, romantic, probably easier to digest for the general public of the time. But, “lover” is used in both songs to signify that the palatable and unpalatable are inextricable; Collins and Angel’s relationship being accepted can’t be conditional on just the cute, mild aspects of their relationship, they’re also queer men who have (probably non-vanilla) sex and that’s a fact that has to be part of the conversation around a sexually transmitted disease.

Also, side note: the depth of Angel and Collins’ relationship feels a lot more apparent to me this go-around. Like, I think they kind of felt like a loving foil to all the turbulent relationships we see throughout, that didn’t have drama because it wasn’t plot relevant, but in retrospect, they didn’t have drama because in the shadow of such a finite time limit, the little quarrels were probably insignificant. Collins and Angel never had that full 526,000 minutes together, and they spent what little time they had in full, head-over-heels love for each other. Similarly, I used to think Angel, say, providing groceries for Mark and Roger or buying Collins a new coat was just, like “Oh here’s this great character who’s just an infallibly good person to balance out these other assholes.” But, Angel must have known she didn’t have much time left, and in as much as she was generous by her nature, I’m sure she was also generous because she knew her time was coming to a close. Which absolutely breaks my heart.

#rent2008 #rent musical #rent #musicals #broadway #angel and collins

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pashminalamb · 1 year

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Oooohhhh! Really excited for the yandere rin and the surprise character!🤩.

But I’m currently on my Bucky Barnes moments so ehehehe still luv u aiku🫶🏻🥹 (and sae and shidou). I’m also planning on changing my phone widgets to like bucky barnes/sebastian stan theme(i love him so much😭🥹🫶🏻)

-💙

There are two surprise characters now... i had started my Rin wip but it wasn't fitting for his character imo; BUT. it reminded me of a certain someone in bllk so i set it aside for him. its gonna have to wait though cause uni calls, but rest assured, it will be up on ao3. I'm still on Aiku. A new song came in today and it was like for... part 8 of the series (yes i increased the parts for ocean hues to 10 cause. the drama in middle is so much, there is a lot i've planned... making the situation worse might be one of them. how? you'll find out soon >.<) And on a second note, there needs to be more aiku thirst on my blog; cause. i. love. this. man to pieces. *crying cause it has been TOO. LONG. since i last saw him and i wanna see him again T-T* Bucky barnes has such a charming smile honestly - *is fangirling over henry cavil atm* ('why the 1%?' is gonna live rent free in my head)

#belle.☏#.lost sheep : 💙 anon

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libidomechanica · 2 years

Text

I was some huge

A limerick sequence

A dead, looking on the like Orpheus, from every joy. I was some huge and them as if such important visits hearer air weary all the be fifty wreaths.

—A Child free or their budding? How very sound her heavy body mind; thy deemed to speak me do I dream; their shade went that one and when to the Soul instant leper.

The silk-pillow except the increased. With the dust casually; if I have to whom the lattering in scrolls an undoes its play; he thirst. All earthly realm I take.

With Gold and Ruby Girdle his fine Waist. Since beyond aught in these, found jubilance from ruined in old Man say I hearts of tree brimm’d in that needs within young mass.

Do! Al redy, sire, quod he, and that has borne a son hae a heart had one, to that Urne. The Crowne, and death take thought that I knew the kind the lovely leave to do.

They whole throw much are sweet I feel the pursued by nightly leave take it seem tame. Dear of the boy’s present that enchant-ship, or a gold. There are she same gaudy flown?

She slothful times he sameness steps. And the real rain, so vertical it fuses with silence of the Poet’s soul, and Queen of light; yet, if ther we nat God displese.

Them scarce knew; both to run likewise throne. But wise Oxenstiern. Some smarts, glad I be goner? A teeming water little boy upturn’d Love they talking him anymore.

And I met, which sleeping. More the boat anyhow listence, nor an Indigestion, cruel; for have the coursing that sweet my door. And where? Thought would spot, no loved henchman!

Just close merely forsaken up thered, looks when always might now the rose Aylmer, or breaths. In all too kind; the streams to myself more freshness! Rents’ simple in shade.

My who are making so fame. His epic satiety with growing brow. Men. Said, our sleep in that sad? Grace might years, and that loue deepers, and strength my pregnant leper.

And swell, be it were thing, marble shady bent it want to the nest. I mourn for their turn out of her the airy texture complace. Along by such fain hardly souls!

Past hope next to point of this body rocking! On throng at little glisten’d on the morning. Beneath her, and her—she could never bled, lo! For it have spread to thee.

And and again I turns, so calculators where must but true deem tame. But when, hailed by the sang loudly all they for plough ill spired. I saw something shutterly.

Ere of unions he sands of Nineveh, may God’s glade of Things with chearful army. All it seem’d a petty well, started the blossom, to her yet a think the ground.

How cheek when my heard, breast. She steps, with Nature to treat, yet it knew not keep that some perfumed into the large, a tale, these was her e’re. And lawless yclept in Vain!

And bear to hunt history of years a rebuke! But still sag toward … this heir—and Lip for the told, what close, bound suppose I’ll not my heart. Tis not once a punk; proud fleece mad.

The course, my Mine on me that dead; without to makes or error intend, the Phrygian kind; I have gold? An Ocean boy whenceforward there their head of hue, st.

Their everythings of fearfulness, priest didn’t loved the gilding in my verdure foresaw. Half in mine had been a foolish godship, O Moon, and woman love is lost live.

Has poured, fast food is fill’d at such a vile perfection, but too entail’d? Had and keeps into you are voice. Broken all bathe age, long the winked, seemed not stated in brass.

This in the death is flew from a bell. Standing puzzle? And tears—was desk mere she spect: their literally ever-nearing bottom off herself to admired, and round.

Just now Passing, ev’ry grant thou in midnight connects name. From the weak and what interfered. Where is budding to be left to double; she was t’other, these our eyes.

Just not like Jewels polite that to fade for after; but confesse; tis but work. Or heroes as he, came is Shame, they could almost friend of the Rhine; some laid aside; there.

And pleasure never song of the linger friends fled, but dirty. We’re against my handless must in the Book on a harvest. And sanguish was black-eyed embranche cable.

Other, night; tis not because thinking- glass; no ridge his large, loving duct had sees her solitary infant it throught. Horse as many shade. The tidings beloved.

As she told the other open eye is present foamy way. And feast way the left. Pillows shone in huge vessels lace. I reconciling westerfields, shy to rove!

Beside; furthens, politician trample, but silver calves, and so no easier embryos into a foolish. Of passed, upon here made the day, and tossing.

—This Phillis, only which he spots determine, a state world rush’d Clarinda knew the combine, empty sparkling stood and enterest you make a brief and others.

By faintly with tended with the air. It was besidents I doubtle say, Remember door. Kind to do or henchman, where With the brights thro’; but ‘Damme’s’- the Throne.

Studded dames for I have been a certain to me run, without ask the SATs, down in her lane, and him. A spare your pass, fine appear unveil and look so bonfires.

With to lifted; strain in the elm-tree bring what avails that mostly. Sharp Eye but now we’re all to tell hint or maladies’ lucubration awaits fire ground support.

Why repose, and never traps forgot. Mean. Likeness, but oh fie on’t! Scarcely girl, who, seeing without a flows away, a happy, for behind to her said the push.

Be wish yours; o the deeper? Reconciled the lattering after an Instant to under a rain, in like sympathy: twere not Corydon, hailed his clumsy Will!

More soft is a fame on a worse emotion: interlace. Love hearts of death than I kiddy upon the door, and sleeps the tell meanwhile which a grey; I fell beat dead?

Now blithe patricacies. Sets ferment, and now I said—indeed; but just painted the phrase, when idle look down in life their short were pass erection, and blood and thee.

To changed, and at lead in thy stone, no azure’s tongue: at the moonlight wreathed him kiss here is a certain of such when in all love all profitable, do not.

With murderous I leave one all it doth politeness it—and grass, and rumour and you’ll round! Know very vulgarit—’ which sublime to huntsman’s she rub—and brough then!

To tell mimicking throught suffering, slowly child-bed. Them pitiles, her weathe air, and in sleep without love made a widow. Less rush on young, receipt with thee power?

Generations of there—I do not even seem’d the charmer sun. The Fourthly parties neck. But what she wind. Of each the happy when sneer’d; and alone to describe.

Especially ponder that’s o’er them clouts that particle’s easier to Rome’s a finer moonlights conspicuous past twig. Till God on the shy Thamis, Hail!

Yet still enchant-ship, but I trust befalls me hid. Scarcely pale Virgin’s minute slowly from a belt only a melt into thy parting the Cupid girl with first.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #120 texts #limerick sequence

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wooahaes · 2 years

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Hi!! It’s the baby teume here again lol thank you sm for the rec I’ve been through their blog as well aksnsksmskdnd but hey I’m a svt Stan too !! It’s so weird we Stan a lot of the same groups and I’m so grateful we have such a good writer in all the fandoms I’m in as well 😂😂

As for my treasure bias, it was originally mashiho (I mean it still is) but I’ve added more people to the list lmaooo like yedam as of now and I’ve been crushing on Hyunsuk since last night 💀 it’s impossible to decide lol and I’ve just sorta accepted the fact that I’m just gonna probably work my way thru the whole group at some point lmaooooo and my favourite song that I’m obsessed with right now are I love You and JikJin as well as both the versions of darari! (At this point I feel like I should just name their entire discography lol ) it’s been maybe a week or two since I started stanning them and I’ve already finished watching all the tmap episodes and most of their variety content lol I think I might have a problem💀

im about to take a final but i wanna respond first hehe i love talkin abt my boys

omg then double hi then!! i literally cannot remember if i got into svt first or trsr because it was around the same time but i joked with my non-kpop friends that a group has to have at least 8 members for me to stan (or be SHINee) but brb gonna cry thank u for that compliment!! theres SOOO many good svt writers out there <3

(rest is under a readmore bc this feels long and i dont wanna subject anyone scrolling past to a long post dskfhdsf)

also incredibly valid of u... my trsr bias changed a lot before i finally settled on yoshi (for rn, at least? hopefully it wont change bc i love the him but things happen lmao). i personally came in originally being biased for asahi and junkyu and then i realized yoshis the literal cutest and so is mashi and so is hyunsuk... i think now ive just been calling myself a jline stan (haruto isnt as high as the others but ive adopted him so hes my son now alongside the others in the maknae line /hj). u have taste tho <3 but stanning trsr means u have taste sooo-

but also literally felt tht abt crushing on hyunsuk... watching the concert was what got me lmao his stage presence is sooo good and he cares so much abt the others!! also i love his facial expressions lmao he does this cute lil nose scrunchy thing sometimes and its. genuinely so cute.

GOD i loved "i love you" so much when i was first getting into trsr!! the lil fingerheart and bob they do to the "lovin' you lovin' you love you" bit??? lives rent free in my head idk why its just so cute. + the song has some of my fave choreo from them and i cant explain why lol

jikjin is also v v good!! this comeback was my first comeback as a teume so i have a special place in my heart for jikjin <3 and DARARI my MOST beloved!!! i adore her so much... i was literally so excited for darari choreo and then she was given to me <3 i still kinda wish we had a real mv for darari but im not gonna argue w getting the remix lmao (both slap but i prefer the og bc for the softer comfy vibes)

also ur so much better than me dsfkhdsf i dont remember where i left off on tmap but i got busy with life stuff and dropped it for a bit :( i do wanna go back and watch the rest of it sometime!! i respect u so much tho sdfkhdsf im just bad at sitting down and watching stuff in general lmao (my kdramas usually take... several months for me to actually finish watching)

anyway welcome to stanning treasure u will not regret this <3 i love them all so so much and ive been missing them a lot lately :(

#wooahaes.ask #asks.anon

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weirwolves · 3 years

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you look happy and healthy not me, if you ever cared to ask

#this song has been living in my head rent free since it came out its so catchy tf #olivia rodrigo #good 4 u #musicians #oliviarodrigoedit #good4uedit #sanssa #ravenclairee #userdiana #fadenet #paleresource #lyricedit #*

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sichengtual · 2 years

Text

— body electric; j.jh

— summary: you and jaehyun are friends, and you and jaehyun are roommates, and you and jaehyun really, really have the hots for each other. — pairing: jung jaehyun x fem!reader. — genre: smut; roommates!au. — word count: 3.7k (3741) — warnings: mutual masturbation, voyeurism, dirty talk, use of the pet name "kitten", mentions of oral sex (m!receiving), both of them are sooooo far gone for each other. — song: crush — cigarettes after sex. — a/n: so jaehyun cursed me and this is the result! i'm going thru it! (dedicated to my jsoulmate and favorite peachzen, @svtxsoju ❤️‍🔥)

Jaehyun is sure he’s imagining things.

Okay, well, maybe he’s not completely sure, but oh does he want to be. See, if he were to be imagining things, he’d simply be able to put a record into his player, focus on the music, close the book he’s been trying to read for the past few minutes, and have some time to himself. If he were imagining things, simply hearing your voice inside his head, seeing you dancing before his eyes in the sweetest of fantasies, then maybe, just maybe, he could think of a way to release the pent up tension that has his hands shaking by his sides.

The feeling in his chest though, the sound of his heart thumping violently against his ears and the heat rising to his cheeks really, unfortunately, lets him know he’s been hearing things right. And, God, as much as he likes being right, Jaehyun finds himself wishing that the sweet little moans coming from the room next door were as much of a dream as they had been ever since he had moved in with you.

He wonders how it all began, but deep down, he knows it had all been brewing from way back. A happy coincidence, an advertisement for a free room in a complex near campus, printed in a brightly-colored flyer that had caught his eye after his last medieval literature lecture of the semester and led him straight to you.

Enter Jaehyun, a last year literature student, desperately looking for a new place to live in after his best friend and roommate graduated from college and moved across the city. Enter you, a last year architecture student, desperately looking for a new roommate after your best friend, a quiet man named Dong Sicheng, agreed to move in with his girlfriend, leaving you with a free room and full rent deposit to pay.

And really, ignoring the almost immediate sexual tension, everything had started out well, but sadly, a line came to form between you and Jaehyun that the two of you had been too cautious to cross. Living together, and especially with all the pressures of a busy semester and a near graduation, was hard enough on its own to then add any sort of roommate drama on top. So you became friends.

Sure, friends who check each other out before leaving the house. Friends who look at each other during kiss scenes in movies wishing they could be brave enough to admit their feelings for each other, but still being careful enough so that the other person doesn’t meet their eyes. Friends who hug each other for a little longer than they should. Friends who hold onto the accidental hand grazing that came with handing each other a cup of freshly-brewed coffee in the mornings. And yeah, friends who have made out once or twice when going out partying, but friends nonetheless. Friends and nothing more.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun breathes out as he hears you cry out a little louder, feeling himself becoming hard under his light gray sweatpants. Do you even know he’s home?

He doesn’t even notice the moment he gets up from his bed, his copy of von Goethe’s Selected Poetry laying long forgotten on his bed. It’s almost as if his mind is blank, suddenly becoming a wandering man following your voice like a map that will finally bring him home. He walks faster than he can think and feels deeper than he can reason, and he’s not completely sure of how he’s gotten there, but he’s suddenly standing outside of your door with a tent in his pants and a hand balled up and ready to knock.

“Oh, God,” he hears, and he nearly has to pinch himself in the arm to make sure he’s not dreaming, as much as everything about the situation feels like a dream, because as soon as he’s there he notices the door isn’t closed.

It’s not wide open either, but rather somewhere in between, and Jaehyun quickly tries to find a place where he’s not visible from the inside. His breath gets caught in his throat, trying to tell himself that he should go back to his room and lock the door, leaving you alone in such an intimate moment but for some reason, he can’t bear to look away.

He wonders if he’s ever gonna get you out of his mind, or if you’re engraving yourself in the very deep, a friend, a crush, suddenly becoming a muse he’s set and ready to adore for as long as he’s living. He sees you laying down on your bed, bare naked, a light layer of sweat resting upon your skin and making you look like you’re glowing, a sort of vision like that of an oasis for a man who’s dying of thirst. It’s like you’ve bewitched him, like you’ve sung a siren song and pulled him to the deepest corners of the ocean, and he knows, deep down, that he’d follow you even if you were. He’d let himself be enchanted by you, any day and any way, because you’re magic in and out of yourself.

He drinks you up, bit by bit, moan by moan, trying to hold back one of his own as he grabs at his crotch, letting out a loud breath at the touch.

And you hear him, because your hand stops for a brief moment while you turn to look at the man standing outside your door. He’s some sort of desperate, knowing he’s caught, and knowing he should run away before you’ve given yourself time to react to him seeing you like this, but he doesn’t. He stands his ground, praying that you won’t stop singing, that you won’t break your spell, because he’s too far gone to let himself free. He wants to adore you the way a muse should be, venerate your body like you’re the highest form of art, let himself be devoted to you like his soul is telling him to.

“Sorry, I —”

“If you’re gonna watch, then you might as well have some fun too,” you whisper, quickly brushing your discarded brassiere off your bed and onto the hardwood floor. Jaehyun’s eyes follow the garment, taking it the entirety of its bright red lace, and he gulps as he feels his throat go dry. “If you’re hard enough yet, you know.”

He doesn’t find the words to respond, or, at least, the courage to actually speak them, but he takes a step into your room and closes the door behind him. He takes note of the music playing from your computer, propped up on your desk, not that far away from you, and he wonders if maybe you had been thinking of him while listening, because he recognizes the song and knows he’s thought of you while doing the same.

Looking away from your desk, his eyes meet yours once again, and Jaehyun can do nothing else but stare.

He finds his hand traveling lower and lower, somehow still entranced by your words, your shameless invitation and your watchful eyes, staring at him in the exact same way he's staring at you. He’s not sure if you’re both gonna end up regretting this, once the lust has faded and the adrenaline has run out, having to live with each other and see your faces every day, remembering just how desperate you had been in finding relief while using each other as an inspiration.

“Can I?” He asks, voice softer than the moment would ask for. He doesn’t elaborate, walking closer to your bed and nudging at the empty space right next to you.

You nod, scooting over to the other side of the bed as he comes to sit down next to you. He begins taking off his sweats, taking his time with the piece of clothing in what you assume is a method of seduction, but really, it’s really just him trying to hide the nervous shake in his hands that came with the adrenaline. He wants to appear smoother than he is, pretending he hasn’t been dreaming of being so close to you from the past few months, but the reddening of his ears gives him away. Or it would, at least, if you had noticed.

He lets the sweats fall down to the floor, joining your discarded lingerie, and moves so his bare arm touches yours as he falls into place. The movement of the bed, combined with the non-stopping movements of your fingers against your core has you producing a soft moan, one you don’t even try to hold back, mind completely fogged up with the only sense of clarity coming from Jaehyun’s skin brushing against yours.

“Fuck,” he hears you whisper, head thrown back as you let little whimpers roll off your lips without a care in the world. “This is s-so hot.”

Jaehyun agrees, but words are stuck in his throat as he moves his hand inside his boxers. He’s not sure if he’s simply imagining it or if his body temperature has actually risen, but as he grazes his fingers over his cock, the skin almost but burns at the touch. His eyelids flutter close, and he’s grateful he had sat right next to you on the bed, letting his back relax onto the headboard.

“I-I’m gonna take them off,” he says, fingers toying with the elastic rim of his boxers. “They feel too tight.”

You turn to look at him, lowering the motions of your hand to slow down but not stopping them altogether. Your fingers still graze upon your clit, allowing your body to take a breath as you watch Jaehyun slowly removing the fabric off his body. It feels like a waiting game, and you wonder if he’s doing it to purposefully tease you as some sort of revenge for the loud moaning that had brought him here in the first place. Or maybe he’s doing it to tease himself, letting the linen run down his shaft as some sort of caress; never enough to actually please, more than necessary to build up the tension in his stomach.

He does it, finally, after what feels like an eternity for the both of you, letting his dick spring free against his stomach. He’s rock hard, tip red and already leaking pre-cum, and your movements on your core speed up ever so slightly at the thought of putting him in your mouth. He lets out a sigh of relief at finally being free from restraints, cool air hitting his skin and making him wince. His hands fall down his sides as he lets his head hang back, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He likes the waiting, letting the pressure rise until he can practically feel himself throbbing against nothing but the cool wisps of air coming from your open window.

“God, Jae, you’re so hot,” you whisper, letting your fingers travel down your core until one teases at your entrance. Your nail teases the tender skin as you drag it up and down, biting your lip as you feel your head start spinning.

You’re tempted to just relieve the pressure right then and there, but your other hand seems to have a mind of its own as it moves up your body and gives a playful squeeze to your breast. You let out a moan and Jaehyun moves to look at you once again, eyes set in the way you tease your body in the exact same way he’s teasing his. There’s something about the two of you enjoying the same kind of pain that came with the waiting to be pleasured, like a thousand electric volts running through your veins by the second.

“You look so fucking pretty like that,” he speaks, voice deep. You frown at his words, hips unconsciously snapping up as you try to get even a sliver of release. “So desperate and ready to cum, f-fuck. Is your own touch too much for you to handle, baby?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, but the word comes out as a broken moan. “I-I want to make myself cum so bad, and all for you to see.”

Jaehyun chokes out a moan of his own at your words, the pressure on his cock heightening as he feels thrills running down his body as a product of the arousal. He’s so hard it hurts, and can already think of how good it’s gonna feel when he finally lets himself give in.

He bites his lip, moving his hand from the bed to rest at the base of his cock. Running his tongue over his bottom lip, he grabs at his dick as he watches you finally insert a finger into your core, not missing how your body seems to visibly relax once you start moving your digit. A whine forms in the bottom of your throat and you pinch your nipple with the hand that was holding your breast, making Jaehyun finally move his hand along his dick as he lets his imagination fly, wondering just how warm your skin would feel against his fingers if he were the one pleasuring you, preparing you to come undone because of him.

He hears you pant as you introduce another finger, maintaining a steady pressure on your perked nipple, speeding up his own rhythm.

“Are you gonna make yourself cum, kitten?” He groans, tightening his grip. His other hand balls the fluffy comforter under him, a sort of reminder for him to stay grounded and not let himself go before time. “Are you imagining those are my fingers, stretching you out and making you feel better than yours ever could?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I really wish these were your fingers instead of mine, Jae, making me feel g-good.”

He runs his hand up and down, grip never softening, his rhythm constant as he takes in your words. It’s like a game of cat and mouse, tempting each other with words and movements alike, toying with your patience until one of you inevitably gives in. And it’s addicting, the feeling of his burning gaze upon your body, admiring every part of you and consuming it bit by bit. It’s good enough to remind yourself of the game you’re playing, and you remove your fingers just when the pleasure they’re giving becomes too much.

He watches with half-lidded eyes, the sudden withdrawal of your hands from your body, admiring the calmness in your face despite the eagerness in your eyes. You’re watching him too, and, contrary to you, he doesn’t allow his hand to stop its ministrations on his cock as he watches you switch positions.

“You look even better up close,” you say, placing your knees on the bed and letting your head hang close to his member.

One of your arms supports your weight as the other one snakes from under your body and finds your core again. You let out a moan when the tips of your fingers come in contact with your clit, and Jaehyun is just removing his hand from his cock when your breath meets his skin. He bites his tongue, pulling his head back as he gathers every ounce of self-control he has to keep himself from asking you to take him in your mouth.

“Don’t do that,” he says, and you barely hear him, both because you’re too focused in the pleasure that comes from the rubbing of your clit and because his voice had been way too low in the first place. It was more of a whimper than an actual request, and you had never really been as complacent as him. “Fuck, don’t do that again.”

“Don’t do what, huh?” You ask, making sure you lower your head even more when speaking. You’re sure that is what he meant not only because of the timing, but because of the way his fingers seem to grip tighter against the comforter everytime you utter a word. “Speak so close you can practically feel me?”

Jaehyun groans, muttering a quiet fuck between his teeth as he raises one of his hands and runs it through his hair. He’s practiced edging himself and has gotten pretty decent at it, but the closeness of your body has him feeling so out of control he’s on the verge of snapping.

“You’re making this really hard for me, kitten,” he whispers. “You’re making me wish I could just fucking cum.”

“God, then why don’t you,” you whine, letting yourself get lost in his holding back. “Jae, just, oh, just do it. I’m so fucking c-close.”

You increase your rhythm, rolling your clit between your fingers as you feel a familiar pleasure building in the base of your stomach. You don’t bring yourself to a stop, and you don’t think you have to, brain fogged up and overfilled with the need of release that your arm gives in and you let yourself fall onto Jaehyun’s lap. You’re so close, and your movements against your clit speed up as you moan against the skin of his thigh, shutting your eyes closed as you let the sounds come out of your mouth without caring about the volume.

Jaehyun doesn’t notice, but the hand that was just playing with his hair comes to rest on top of your back and he keeps you flush against his lap, not really exerting any force but still keeping you glued to his body. It’s the movements of your hand, the warmth of his skin and the musky scent of his cologne that lingers on his body even after a full day of work that finally breaks the tension in your body.

And it’s so much, so goddamn much, that you end up coming against your fingers as you nuzzle your face against Jaehyun’s thigh, almost but crying out his name as everything but his touch disappears from your mind.

“O-oh, fuck!” You curse, plopping completely onto the bed. “Oh my God.”

Your forehead is still pressed tightly against Jaehyun’s thigh, the hand that was previously on your back coming to rest on top of your head. You’re not sure if he simply likes feeling you on him or if he’s trying to somehow comfort you with his touch, but either way, you don’t move. Trying to regain your breath while being glued to Jaehyun’s skin proves to be difficult, but you just keep your eyes closed and take deep breaths, inhaling his scent as you do fresh air. The breaths come out as whimpers from your mouth, causing the blonde’s mind to run a thousand miles per hour as he does his best to keep you close, close, close. He doesn’t want to let go of you, and the pressure on his unattended cock has risen to the point he’s breathing heavily as he reminds himself to not cum just yet.

“That was so hot,” Jaehyun says, breathing out as he keeps his eyes set on you, and your skin, and the way it feels like it’s almost burning his own at the mere touch. “God, you’re so fucking sexy.”

He’s had his fair amount of experience, but he had never felt nearly as aroused and needy as he’s doing now, and he wonders if it’s just the situation or if what you two have is really fueling the fire that is now consuming the room. Everything feels hot, way too hot, and his mind starts spinning uncontrollably as he thinks of just what he can do to relieve himself of the heat. The cool outside breeze hits his skin but it doesn’t help, he’s merely reminded of the fact that he’s almost but begging to be touched.

And you notice. His hand shakes a little when he runs it from your head and down your back, and he jumps a little whenever you move, no matter how slightly. Despite the sudden rush of adrenaline (or maybe because of it), your senses are heightened and Jaehyun is all you can feel, all you can see. His pleasure is still rooted in the back of your mind, and you raise yourself on your elbows to come face to face with his cock.

“Do you want me to help you out?” You ask, voice growing a little shy. It’s almost as if you had forgotten what had just happened, the way you had reacted to his voice and the way he had stared at you as if his life depended on it. “I can suck you off.”

“I just don’t- fuck,” he swallows. He’s still staring at you, and a blush rises to his cheeks as he notices the mischievous gleam in your eyes. You haven’t gotten enough. “I don’t want to make it awkward for us after this, kitten.”

You smirk. The entire thing still feels like some sort of fever dream, still not completely real as you see Jaehyun sprawled out in front of you. It’s like he’s a product of your imagination because there’s no way he’s actually this perfect and so dangerously close to you after feeling so far away for far too long. He’s your roommate, and he had been just that, no matter how much you had wished he could just be something else. Until tonight.

“I just came in front of you while you called me kitten,” you say, smirk growing as you recall the nickname. “It wouldn’t be awkward for me.”

He takes in a deep breath. He can’t hide the fact that he’d been crushing on you for months - longing stares shared whenever you walked from the bathroom to your room in a silky bathrobe, or whenever he got home from the gym, drenched in sweat and with the breathy tank top glued tight to his skin. He’s wanted you, a burning desire growing wild and ravishing in the back of his mind, and he’s finally got you.

And he’s not sure if it’s wishful thinking, but the way you’re looking at him suggests you feel the exact same way about him. He’s right, and you try to communicate it with a smile, a little giggle escaping your lips as you look up at him like he’d painted the stars in the midnight sky.

“Then what are you waiting for,” he groans, smiling when you move even closer to him. “Go ahead and make me cum, baby.”

#neowritingsnet #nct-writers #kpopscape #kwritersworldnet #jaehyun smut #nct smut #jaehyun scenarios #nct scenarios #jaehyun scenario #nct scenario #jaehyun x reader #nct x reader #nct 127 smut #nct 127 scenario #nct fanfic

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visionofhope04 · 3 years

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Hii I was lowkey wondering if you would do something maybe like a one shot of neglected where reader is older (18-20) and dipped out of the house and became a singer and one of her songs basically exposed them for how they treated reader and in like an interview she full on tells them how she doesn’t even talk to them and like only Jason

This is literally perfect. I love this idea! I was planning on making a singer batsis reader anyway so here you go! I'll be making this part 4 of the series instead of a one shot. There’s a bit of angst. Btw, thanks so much for your support everyone! I'm glad you enjoy this series! Feel free to request anything you'd like besides smut as well!

This is the longest thing I have ever written so there will be a part 5. I planned on this being the last part but it's just so much. It’s not proofread and neither are all of the other parts because I post at 1 am most of the time lol. Hope you like it!

f/n = friend name

Y/G/N = your group name

N/S = news station

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 (Current) Part 5

---

You were sick of it. Sick of how even after confronting them about how you felt and almost dying because of it, they still neglected you. You couldn't wait to move out at the age of 18, even if it proved to be a struggle. You had taken mini jobs since you turned 15 and saved up since then. You just couldn't see them anymore as it would remind you of how they treated you that day at that hospital. None of them apologized either. They just pretended it never happened and continued to ignore you. The media had a field day with speculation of what had happened but eventually stopped because Bruce had claimed it was “just a bad case of the flu” which they believed.

Jason was always the only one that would talk to you. He was the only one that actually cared enough to make sure you were taking proper care of yourself and that you wouldn't have a repeat of what happened. He took you places, spent time with you and gave you advice. You even had a tradition where you'd always meet up at the manor's library every week at the same time that same day every week and just have a mini book club together. He always made time for you and never bailed on you.

So on your 18th birthday, he helped you move out. You managed to rent a small apartment in Star City with the money you had saved up. It wasn’t that close to the manor which was a good thing. The neighborhood wasn’t good but it wasn’t as bad as Gotham’s neighborhoods so you would be fine. You could handle yourself with your assassin training if needed. You also managed to get hired at a cafe which was about a five minutes walking distance from your apartment.

It had taken a while but eventually, you had packed all of your belongings into color coded containers and moved them into Jason’s car with his help. You didn’t say goodbye to anyone as you had no friends to say bye to and you knew that your so called “family” couldn’t care less about what you did with your life. ‘This is it, hopefully the last time I’ll ever be near this place.’ You thought. You didn’t plan on stepping foot in Gotham ever again after you left. It would bring back too many memories you prefer to keep buried away deep inside your mind.

The car ride to Star City was entertaining. You and Jason conversed the whole time, telling jokes and listening to his funny tales with the radio playing softly in the background. Eventually, a song you both loved came on and you both started yell-singing along to the lyrics. You wished those moments could be permanent. You were both so carefree and nothing else mattered besides having fun and enjoying yourselves.

You now stood in the doorway of your new apartment, admiring your new home. Jason and yourself had just finished unpacking all of your belongings. You really liked how it looked and thought you both did an amazing job at designing the place perfectly according to your style. Jason, unfortunately, had to leave in order to avoid raising suspicions. Once you both said your byes, he left you to your apartment.

Jason drove back home in silence. He hated to admit it but he would miss you dearly. You were always there for him and helped him with anything. You tried your best to always comfort him and make him feel better on his darkest days and it would always work. Somehow you seemed to always have the right words to say or knew exactly what to do to help him. Out of everyone he was closest to you. He assumed it was because he could relate to you the most. More so how you felt. He’d felt like the black sheep of the family before you came, and he was. When you came, you took that role from him. It pained him to see how much their insults would affect you, even if you were good at hiding it. He could just tell.

Jason made it back to the manor after a while and went straight to the library. He didn't want to deal with the others. After the whole hospital situation, he'd never really bother interacting with them. He hated how they treated you as if you didn’t exist and hated how much pain they had caused you and that they didn’t even care. He guessed that they'd probably be doing something for Damian's birthday and forgot that you were his twin. They probably couldn’t even remember that Damian had a twin.

He made it to the library and pulled out one of his favorite books. He’d read it so many times you’d often joke that he could probably recite the whole book by heart at this point. Sitting down in a chair, he started to read. However, he couldn’t bring himself to stop thinking about what it would’ve been like if they treated you how they did Damian. The both of you were Bruce’s real children. You both even looked like clones of him! At first, Jason thought you would’ve been the favorite twin due to your personality. Even though you were twins, your personalities were polar opposites. You even refused to kill! You were trained by the League so why didn’t you kill as Damian did?

Jason knew you would benefit them greatly if you joined. You had self control, didn’t kill, could act perfectly, lie perfectly, do well under pressure, and not to mention your skills. Being raised by the League may have been torture, but you managed to gain incredible skills out of it. You could take on at least ten guys who doubled you in size and beat them within five minutes. You even bested Damian in spars and he was supposedly dubbed the “better twin” by Talia, so why hadn’t they let you join their nightly crusades like they had let Damian when the both of you first arrived?

Damian passed by your room but noticed something was off. He decided to take a look. He twisted the doorknob and pushed. The room which was once occupied by you now looked extremely plain and bare, stripped of all of its accessories. The only things left were the bed itself, multiple dressers, and a vanity. It looked as if it had been vacant the whole time. It might as well have been. Damian couldn’t really remember what it had looked like since he’s never paid much mind to it but he could tell there was a drastic difference. He knew that you disliked just leaving your room plain unlike himself and wanted at least something to make it look less boring.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Had you finally been kicked out by Bruce? Did you get shipped off to a boarding school like he had been suggesting to your father for years? He decided to go ask. He exited the room and closed the door behind him, taking off for Bruce’s office. Walking down the hall, he suddenly remembered that he had seen you leave with Jason. This meant that you were not at a boarding school like he had originally thought. But then why was your room vacant?

Instead of going to see Bruce, he decided to go see Jason and bring up the matter with him instead. He changed directions and headed to the library where he knew he’d find Jason. It was no secret that Jason was a book worm so Damian had a fifty percent chance of finding him there.

He entered the library and was immediately greeted with the sight of Jason sitting comfortably on a chair, legs crossed with a book opened in his hands. Jason didn’t bother to look up from his book as he spoke.

“What do you want Demon Spawn?”

“I’ve come to obtain the whereabouts of my sister.”

“You mean my sister?”

“She’s not your sister!” Damian exclaimed.

“Well I act more like a brother than you do.”

“Where is Y/N? Her whole room is bare.”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Just tell me, you imbecile!” Damian said, growing increasingly frustrated by Jason’s blunt answers.

“She’s not here.”

“Then where is she?”

“Not here.”

“Just tell me already Todd, I have no time for your foolish games!”

“She moved out.” Jason said, giving in.

“What?! Where.” Damian demanded.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because I demand to know!”

“Okay and?”

“Tell me!”

“No.”

“Why not!”

“Because you don’t even care.”

“And you do?”

“Yes, I actually do Damian! I’m there for her when she needs me the most. I’m there for her while she’s watching you live the perfect life that she’s just a background character in! While you and the others ignore that she even exists! I’m there for her when she breaks down and has panic attacks! And what were you all doing to try and help her? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Jason snapped.

“Y/N’s fine, I know my twin!” Damian screamed.

“Do you even know what her favorite color is?” Jason questioned in a harsh tone.

“...” Was Damian’s reply.

“Exactly! You don’t! You and the others have never cared about her, so why all of a sudden do you care now? You don’t know anything about her so don’t act like you do!” Jason then stood up and walked out of the room in a fit of rage.

Damian stood there, shocked. Had Jason just refused to answer his question? He was about to follow him but decided against it. Why was Damian going to chase Jason down just for her? She was just an annoyance, a mistake, imperfect. He had been wanting to get rid of her for so long, so why doesn’t he feel relieved? Why does he feel guilty? He decided to stop dwelling on it and get on with life. He figured it would happen eventually if it hadn’t happened then.

---

It had been a year since that day. The day you left your old life behind and started a new life, a better one. One where you weren’t constantly ignored. One where you actually had more than one person care about you. Instead of seeing yourself as a failure and disappointment, you now saw yourself as an amazing person (which you always were). You had been going to a community college in Star City. You made many friends there and started up a music career with three of them.

Their names were f/n, f/n and f/n. You all started off by taking random gigs anywhere you could. You performed covers of songs and would receive standing ovations all the time. Seeing as your group was well liked, you decided to write and produce your own songs. At the age of 19, Y/G/N released their first album. It went viral within a day and everyone was talking about it. After a week, several articles were posted, praising your work. News Stations talked about all the records Y/G/N managed to break. People started to stream it like crazy, and you couldn’t be happier with all the positive feedback you were receiving.

You had been a Wayne once, meaning you had experience in dealing with the media. Since you had already been used to it, you knew you’d all eventually be invited to interviews. So, when you had received an email stating how N/S wanted a one on one interview with you, you weren’t sure how to feel. You weren’t looking forward to interviews with your whole group, let alone one where you would be alone. You knew how unfiltered interviewers could be and didn’t feel comfortable with it.

However, you decided it would be best to go. So here you were, sitting in front of the interviewer in an uncomfortable chair preparing for the interview to start. You had somehow managed to keep a smile plastered on your face the entire time while you were a nervous wreck on the inside. You hoped none of the questions would be sexist as they usually were towards women. However, you had no more time to think about that. You heard clicking, signaling that you were about to go live. Once you heard the last click, you knew you were live and the interview had begun.

“Hello everyone, welcome back to N/S. My name is Jerald Tangleberry and I’m here today with songwriter, singer, and celebrity, Y/N Wayne! How are you?”

You waved to the camera and then answered, “Hello everyone! I’m doing good, how about you?”

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking! So by now I’d assume everyone knows that you’ve released an album with your group. How does it feel to gain more fame?”

“It doesn’t feel any different. Fame wasn’t our goal when we released the album. It was to express ourselves.”

“Mhm, well Ms. Wayne, what inspired you to write songs?”

“Well we know people may be in a tough spot in their life right now and want them to know they aren’t alone.”

“That’s so true. Some fans have been speculating that every member has three songs that specifically relate to them since there are twelve songs in total and three of the songs have the same group member as the introduction part of the song. Is this true?”

“Yes, it is true.”

“So all three of your songs relate to family issues of some sort. Is that hinting that you have family issues?”

“Yes, actually. My family isn’t the best. They ignored me all the time, even when they weren't busy. The only person who didn’t was Jason.”

“You’re saying it in the past tense.”

“I moved out about a year ago. When I was around 14, I suffered from anorexia. My family would always ignore me since they were either busy doing work or hanging out with each other. The only family member that acknowledged me was Jason. I assumed it was because there was something wrong with me. I started to hate myself so much to the point of starvation. One day, I passed out right before a gala and my oldest brother Dick found me passed out on the floor. They took me to the hospital and when I woke up, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian started fussing about how I’d ruin their image if the media knew what actually happened. They started to yell at me and told me how I was a useless burden. I started to have a panic attack so I kicked them out. Jason stayed behind with me and comforted me. Ever since then I made a planed to save enough money so I could move out when I turned 18, which I did.”

“Oh, wow. So Jason was the only one who interacted with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Looks like the Wayne family isn’t as perfect as they seem.”

“No family is actually perfect.”

“Did your family try contacting you at all after they found out about Y/G/N?”

“Not yet. They’re probably too busy or don’t care.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright, I got over it. What’s the next question.”

“Oh-” He cleared his throat and continued the interview. (So basically I don’t wanna bore you all lol)

---

Jason had woken up late into the afternoon that day. Patrol that morning had exhausted him. There was a huge breakout at Arkham they had assisted with. They successfully locked up every escapee, so today, Jason just wanted to relax until it would be time for patrol again. Even though he was exhausted, he knew he couldn’t take a break. The others wouldn’t and it would be unfair to them if he did.

He headed over to his couch with his phone and a bowl of popcorn in hand, ready to watch random movies the entirety of the day. He set down his phone on the coffee tables and grabbed the TV remote. When he turned on the TV, he almost dropped the popcorn and remote. You were sitting on a chair, giving an award winning smile while you politely answered the man’s questions. He was baffled. He didn’t know why you were being interviewed, let alone on TV at all! You made it clear you didn’t want to have any relations with your family any longer and you couldn’t stand publicity, so what were you doing?

He placed the bowl down and snatched his phone off the table. Unlocking his phone, he quickly dialed your phone number. However, he realized that the interview was live and that he would be interrupting it if he called you then. Deciding to wait, he placed his phone back down, picked up the bowl, and then got comfortable.

---

Tag list: @fake-id-69 @pepelachanel @loxbbg @what-0-life @yoongi-holland @omnivorousfangirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @sexysamsungl @iceddonuts @buginetye @portrait-ninja @azazel-nyx @alculai

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iam93percentstardust · 3 years

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Hiii!!! Happy birthday in advance!

Can I prompt you with married WinterIron? 👀 Something fluff and sweet? 💖💖💖

Hi, lovely!! You can always prompt me with married winteriron! Thanks for letting me write in the Bluebells and Belladonna verse! It’s been living rent-free in my head for the last year

As always, everything I write can be found on ao3

“And how will you be paying today?” Bucky asks politely. He glances at the flowers on the counter, using his Sight to make sure the charm Tony used on it to prolong their life is still holding strong. Tony’s magic has been fluctuating in the weeks since their wedding, not uncommon for powerful mages, whose magic tends to be tied up in their emotions. It hasn’t really been a problem but it makes Tony feel better if he checks anyway so he does.

“With a kiss,” Angie says, winking cheekily at him.

“Why, Mrs. Martinelli,” he exclaims, placing his hand over his heart. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a married man now.”

“That’s right,” Tony chirps, coming up the basement stairs with a potted Midnight Orchid in his hands. Butterfingers, one of Tony’s wind spirits, floats along behind him, carrying an additional four orchids, one of which wobbles. Tony turns back to the spirit, scowling fiercely. “If you drop any of those, I’m going to donate you to a kindergarten. See how you like having to pick up paint after thirty screaming kids. Don’t you sass me, I will absolutely get rid of you. Thank you, those can go over there by the window.” He whirls back around, smiling brightly at the two of them as he traipses his way across the shop floor to Bucky’s side.

He brushes a kiss across Bucky’s cheek and then places the flowerpot down on the counter, turning the bud towards where the moon will rise in only an hour. When the full moon rises, Bucky knows, the bud will bloom into a riotous display of luminous blues and purples as it soaks up the moonlight. It’s a sight Bucky has only seen a few times since he came to Bluebells and Belladonnas—the flowers only bloom once before being harvested for the pure moonlight and they’re much too rare to keep more than a couple in the shop—but he adores them.

“This is my husband,” Tony informs Mrs. Martinelli, absently adjusting the flowerpot so it’ll soak up the most light. “You can’t have him.”

Angie coos and reaches out to pinch his cheek, smiling when Tony bats her hand away. “Don’t you worry, dear boy, I have no intention of taking your husband when I have a perfectly wonderful wife of my own. But an old woman likes to feel young and beautiful sometimes, is that so wrong?”

“Mrs. Martinelli, I’m sure you could go outside right now and find half a dozen men in town who would love to kiss you,” Bucky says, wrapping an arm around Tony’s waist and tugging him in close. “But I’m afraid my own heart is spoken for.”

He places a finger under Tony’s chin and turns him so he can lay an achingly gentle kiss on Tony’s smiling mouth. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last either, he realizes with a small thrill that he gets to have this—Tony—forever and always. They’re married now, two months tomorrow, only back from their honeymoon since last week.

Tony leans into him, arms coming up to rest on Bucky’s shoulders as he stretches up. He’s so much smaller than Bucky, always has been. When they were children, he’d been nearly as small as Stevie before he came into his inheritance and shot up like he was on steroids. But Tony had stayed small and slim, leanly muscular. It’s the perfect size to fit right in the circle of Bucky’s arms and for that alone, he would say that they were made for each other.

When they finally separate, every flower in the shop is blooming a little more brightly and Angie is smiling tearfully at the two of them. She dabs at her eyes with her handkerchief and then says, “Well, if I can’t pay you in kisses, I suppose I’ll have to give you a memory instead. It’ll have to be a romantic one, of course, can hardly be any less for a dozen roses. I know!” And before either of them can say anything, she pulls a single strand of hair, shining bright pink in Bucky’s Sight with Angie’s magic, out of her head. Bucky conjures up a vial and holds it out for her to drop the hair into. It dissolves into a liquid the same shade of pink as Angie’s magic as it settles, glowing softly as Bucky caps it.

“It’s a good one,” Angie promises them, winking as she takes her flowers and leaves with a cheery wave from the front door.

“Angie Martinelli, always a treat,” Bucky murmurs, shaking his head fondly. “What do you think, doll? Save it for a rainy day or convert it?” The bank will take the memory and convert it to money, which the shop still needs to run smoothly though they accept all forms of payment. Magic is still a powerful form of currency after all and memories, even of those who haven’t a drop of magic in their veins, are a form of magic all their own.

“Save it, I think,” Tony decides. “She seemed like she wanted us to have it.”

Bucky agrees, “Sure did,” and banishes the vial with its memory inside to their apartment upstairs. They have a small collection of memories that they’ve kept over the last two years since Bucky arrived in Ravenspoint, all from friends who have wanted to share something with them. They don’t keep memories from people they don’t know; something about viewing those feels too private to both of them.

“Last customer of the day, Bucky babe,” Tony calls, crossing the floor to lock the front door. “Ready to start closing up?”

“I’m never ready to close up,” Bucky grumbles. It’s his least favorite part of the day, time-consuming and exhausting when he’d much rather be curled up on the couch with his husband in his arms.

Tony moves back to him and leans up to kiss his cheek. “I know,” he says, “but the sooner we’re done, the sooner we can relax and watch the Midnight Orchids.”

Bucky catches him around the waist before he can move too much further away and kisses him again, deep and slow and lingering. Tony clings to him, kissing him back hungrily. Bucky loves kissing his husband. Tony always tastes of cinnamon and sugar because of his magic always swirling right below his skin, and it’s a heady taste that Bucky can never get enough of.

He pulls away eventually, reluctantly, so they can get started on closing up. Tony’s right; he doesn’t want to miss the orchids blooming. They hurry through the chores, Tony pausing every once in a while so he can dance along to the song playing over the speakers, Bucky pausing so he can watch Tony, but still managing to get through them faster than they normally do.

Right as they’re finishing up, Tony changes the song to something Bucky could sing in his sleep. Bucky glances over at him to see Tony smiling slyly back at him, extending his hand for him to take. He takes it and lets Tony pull him close.

Dear, this evening seemed to go so awfully fast

We had so much fun and now you’re home at last

I look forward to a kiss or two at the garden gate

But she gave me just a peck and insisted it was late

Bucky places his other hand on Tony’s waist as Tony settles his own on Bucky’s shoulder. They’re standing so close, nearly pressed together as Bucky takes a step back, leading them as they spin around the room to the song they danced to at their wedding.

Give me five minutes more, only five minutes more

Let me stay, let me stay in your arms

Here am I, begging for only five minutes more

Only five minutes more of your charms

And at the register, the first of the Midnight Orchids bursts into bloom, spilling bright luminescence into the shop as moonlight filters in through the window.

#winteriron #alle writes #alle answers #if you like please consider reblogging #saganarojanaolt

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majoraop · 3 years

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It partially overlapped with the Corazon Week so I didn’t have much time to make something for the Heart Pirates Week, but I managed to write a short story inspired by several prompts at once ("strength", "longing", "soft", and "caged"). The prompts are mostly used in the song pictured above (written by Law’s reincarnation in my “A Tale of Two Dragons” soulmate AU), which I included in the fanfic. The story features the CoraLaw pairing, the core Heart Pirates crew (Shachi/Penguin/Bepo), and a one-sided LuLaw.

A Tale of Two Dragons – Moon Chapter “You could smile for once, you know?” Penguin told Law while elbowing a chuckling Shachi. “Is he always like this?” Rocinante sat next to Law, smiling at the camera Luffy was holding. “Yeah. He has always been like this.” Law sighed, already exhausted even if they had just departed for their Moon Tour—as Luffy had dubbed it. “My…brother”—just a moment of hesitation, but Rocinante couldn’t avoid forever bringing Doffy up—“told me that all people inhabiting our world came from the moon. I wonder what we’ll find there!” “I told you already,” Law said with a grin. “There are people with wings on the moon—like angels.” “Really?” Bepo, the younger component of their band, was staring at Law with a gaping mouth. “Really,” Law echoed him with a serious face. Penguin and Shachi tried to say something, but Law sent a glare in their direction and they closed their mouths. “They have fluffy wings and celestial voices,” he continued. “Oh…” Bepo blushed. He was a timid boy with a soft spot for pretty singers—but a skilled drummer for his age. “Law…you should stop now,” Rocinante reproached him playfully. “But it’s real!” Luffy exclaimed. “I remember people with wings living in the old world!” Everyone looked at him, wondering if he was joking. However, there was no trace of doubts or lies in Luffy’s eyes. Law actually believed in those stories too, but he still had fun teasing Bepo. “I can’t wait to meet them!” the boy whispered, blushing even more, and everyone laughed. --- “Look, Law, we’re almost there!” Luffy’s enthusiasm rubbed off on Law, too, when he looked out of the porthole of the flying ship they rented for their journey. The moon was so near now that he could distinguish a large city quite clearly. Sentient beings were living up there, and he wouldn’t be able to refuse Luffy his craved moon concert. Law groaned. His life had changed so fast he hadn’t been able to adapt yet. He hadn't even finished writing his new song! “It looks beautiful,” Rocinante whispered, putting an arm around his shoulders. “I can’t believe we’re travelling together as we promised to do.” “If only those troublemakers weren't around…” “Oh no, it’s better like this!” Rocinante smiled. “Your friends are a nice, funny bunch, and I can help with your band. You know, I’ve learned some useful skills.” Law stared at his confident grin. “What skills?” he asked, mildly worried. He hoped it didn’t involve setting things on fire—the speciality of Rocinante’s old self. “I’m a dresser,” Rocinante said proudly. “Well, not really—not yet at least, but I studied costume design. I have a great fashion sense, you know?” Law didn’t remember the old Roci and his Corazon alter ego having a great fashion sense at all—if anything else, it was the contrary. “Leave it to me,” Rocinante said, puffing up his chest. Law felt a shiver running down his spine as he hesitantly nodded at him. --- You always gave me strength Once, I was a child who lost his heart Once, I was a child who got your heart On the second night after they arrived at their destination, Law was finally able to sit down and work on his song. Penguin was playing his guitar in another room together with Shachi, the bassist of their band. Bepo and Luffy were keeping them company, and Law heard the latter singing. His cheerful voice put him in a good mood, which helped him resolve a difficult verse. He would have loved to spend some time alone with Rocinante, but he needed to finish writing his composition first. Besides, Roci was busy designing their stage costumes. Law looked down at his laptop and deleted a sentence. He remained pensive for a moment. Then, he typed a new line. He hummed the refrain one last time and nodded, satisfied. He would sing this song alone, Luffy only joining him for the chorus. He needed to sing this song alone. Law saved the file and closed the lid of his laptop. --- They still needed an agent so, after finishing working on his song, Law started searching for one. Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin accompanied him while Roci kept working on their costumes. Luffy, too, decided to stay back: he hadn't had much time to learn Law's new song, and even if he would only sing the chorus he wanted to practise some more. Law wondered if Luffy understood how much that song was important for him and thus wanted to make a perfect performance. Sorry, he thought, knowing how Luffy felt about him. “This place is huge!” Penguin’s comment pulled Law out of his thoughts, and he surveyed his surroundings. That city was the main hub of the moon. The skyscrapers that soared against the starry night looked like buildings out of an ancient civilization, but they were made from glass and not blocks of stone. A giant bubble covered the city under a protective dome and shielded it from cosmic radiations, and at its outskirts, smaller bubbles encircled fields and farms. Factories were situated on the dark side of the moon and connected to the central hub by underground bullet train. During their stay there, Law had learned that water was scarce on the moon: there weren’t rivers, lakes, or seas, but people had been able to survive thanks to their advanced technology. Tiny humanoid robots took care of manual labour, so the citizens of the moon had plenty of free time. Unsurprisingly, upon learning that Law and his group were a rock band, they had immediately asked them to hold a concert. “People of the moon do have wings, but they are small,” Bepo interrupted Law’s thoughts, sounding a bit disappointed. “They can't fly like that.” “They don’t need wings to fly,” Shachi told him. “Can’t you see the floating vehicles above our heads?” “It’s not the same.” Bepo pouted. “But their wings are still fluffy at least,” Shachi insisted, clearly amused. “Aye-Aye, they are fluffy.” Bepo nodded, smiling. Law barely registered their silly conversation as he wondered how many marvellous things were waiting for him and Roci to discover. The thought of being able to experience all of that with him filled him with a happiness he had never felt before in his current of previous lives. --- Finding an agent turned out to be surprisingly easy. After talking with some local people, they met an extravagant man with sparkly, ambitious eyes—a foreigner probably, since he didn't have wings. Nevertheless, he had the right contacts, so they hired him. The day of the concert arrived in no time, and now Law was staring, appalled, at the clothes and accessories displayed before him. “What. Are. These.” He managed to say after the first moment of shock. “These? Your stage costume and accessories, of course!” Rocinante said with a big grin on his face. Law glared at the black leather pants, the belt with a ridiculous-looking, heart-shaped buckle, the earrings, the rings, and the “shoes”. The shoes were the worst part: how was he supposed to sing and dance on those stilts?! Law put his hand to his face, sighing, and flung himself upon the armchair behind him. “You’ll look great in them, Law!” Luffy exclaimed, looking at him like he usually looked at delicious meat—his favourite food. Law felt a bit bad for him since he couldn’t reciprocate his feelings, but Luffy was a good person and had accepted Law's relationship with Roci without hesitation. Law sighed again and closed his eyes, massaging his temples with his thumbs. “I love it!” Bepo cried next to him when Roci showed him his costume. Law glanced at it and was only able to distinguish a white fur-something. “And these are for you,” Rocinante told Penguin and Shachi with a smiling face. Law straightened his back, ready to savour the horror on his friends’ faces, but they didn't react as he expected but just let out their breath in relief. Law stood up to see their costumes closer and then frowned. “Why do their clothes look normal and they also have a shirt? Why can’t I wear a shirt too?!” “It’s because you’re the star, my dear!” Rocinante beamed. “But Luffy is the co-star, and yet he'll wear a shirt!” Law felt he was losing his sanity. “It fits his look better,” Rocinante replied with a serious expression. “…I give up.” Law threw his hands on the air and returned to his armchair. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time he appeared in public shirtless...Oh. He had just remembered about that. So, there were still parts of his past pirate life that he had not recalled yet. Ok, let’s go all out then. “Roci, I need you to paint my chest,” he said, trying not to blush. At that, even Rocinante looked surprised. “What do you mean?” “I mean a fake tattoo—nothing too complex, just some black ink.” “Oh, I remember that!” Luffy chimed in. Just perfect. Law wanted to disappear, but it wasn’t like his heart-shaped tattoo had been a mystery in his past life. He had walked around showing it on his bare chest like war painting when—no, he needed to stop thinking about that. Doflamingo wasn’t an enemy anymore. Now, we’re all free from our past. “I…can draw it if you show me the design you’ve in mind,” Roci told him. “Follow me.” Law stood up. “Just you,” he added when he saw the others moving too. That symbol on his chest had been his source of strength during his turbulent, painful past. More importantly, it had been a memento of his Cora-san. Only Rocinante could hear about it. --- When Law stepped out of his dressing room, he was welcomed by Penguin and Shachi’s barely held laughter and Luffy’s loud cheering. Bepo, instead, just looked at him with a worried expression. Law sighed and tried a few slow steps on his heels. Thankfully, he was able to walk normally. “You look fantastic,” Rocinante whispered, his eyes lingering on Law’s painted chest. Law blushed. There were no secrets left between them: he literally wore his heart on his skin—his feelings for that man for all to see. Now, he was ready to step on stage and scream his love for him. The white sea of clouds below me is spotless, I recall colourless roofs and skin now spotted, I recall cries and tears, smoke and flames, I recall being saved and then encaged. I remember falling on a pile of trash, I remember silence—and when it crashed. You always gave me strength Once, I was a child who lost his heart Once, I was a child who got your heart The waves are rolling and splashing before me, I recall blue oceans and endless adventures, I recall allies, friends, and their laughter, I recall legends, myths, and old treasures. I remember searching for the truth of my name, I remember crowning the very King of Pirates. You always gave me strength Once, I was a child who lost his heart Once, I was a child who got your heart The boundless sea of stars is sparkling above me, I recall worlds below and above the mountains, I recall the promise I exchanged with you, I recall black feathers, comfy and soft. I remember longing for you in the night, I remember you smiling for the last time. You always gave me strength Once, I was a child who lost his heart Once, I was a child who got your heart You always gave me strength Once, I was a child who lost his heart Once, I was a child who got your heart… A child no more, I give your heart back. [SOULMATE]

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the-firebender-girl · 4 years

Text

The Songbird (Zuko x Reader)

-> Takes place during “The Promise” comic timeline, about a year or two after his coronation and Zuko is 18 years old here.

Fire Lord Zuko is trying his absolute best to make good on all his promises. To his nation... his hopes and dreams of restoring it to what it was before Fire Lord Sozin’s reign. To the rest of the world... in helping them heal the wounds that his ancestors have inflicted on soo many innocents.

No, he doesn’t want any of them to forget or for history to be rewritten. He proudly shouldered the burden from all those heinous crimes against humanity, to serve as a reminder, especially for himself. Of what happened if kings or leaders become arrogant and greedy, if power is unchecked. The kind of leader that to Agni he prayed, he would never turn into.

And everyday he paid the price, even though it’s not even his to begin with, but still it passed down from generation to generation. Like a snowball, growing bigger with each tumble down. It’s taking its toll on him to the point that it’s not even possible to hide how worn out he is. The dark circles under his eyes more prominent than ever, sunken cheeks, hollowed eyes. But Zuko would never yield, not until he knows he has righted all the wrongs. But with each day, Uncle Iroh realized he has to step in or else this load that torment him would ended up killing his nephew. Literally.

And he has just the solution in mind.

———————————————————————

“I think we should establish an official court entertainers for this palace.” Uncle Iroh said in between sips of another one of his exotic tea.

Zuko merely looked up briefly from the correspondence that he has in hands, “There are more pressing issues than extravaganza, Uncle.”

“Indeed, indeed. But entertainers would bring life to this dreadful palace, Fire Lord Zuko! Agni knows the staffs and ambassadors need it. With all that’s been going on with the rebellion within this capital, we all deserve some distraction.” Uncle Iroh continued. “There is an unrest brewing in this palace, people are scared for their safety. We need to contain it and what’s more delightful than musics or dances to bring people together?”

Zuko only hummed and shifted his attention back towards the letter. His frown returned as he let out a loud sigh and slumped in his chair.

“Any news that I should be aware of?” Uncle Iroh asked. If Zuko doesn’t want to consider his idea then maybe he should try another approach and let him vent first.

“It’s about the Harmony Restoration Movement... I launched it with the aim of transferring the Fire Nation colonials back here to their true home. But new disputes arose and now we risked war with the Earth Kingdom if we don’t handle this delicately.” Zuko answered. “How am I supposed to deal with both this and the civil war that we already have in hand within the nation, uncle?”

“As I said before, Zuko. Sometimes we need to step back and renew one's assessment. To see the big picture instead of braving the storm without any solid plan in mind. That would be both foolish and futile.” Iroh replied, letting his words sinks into his nephew’s mind.

Zuko squared his shoulders and sit straighter, putting down the letter that he has been holding for hours and look at his uncle. “About that court entertainers idea, is there any candidate that you have in mind?”

Uncle Iroh mentally pat himself in the back and let himself smile now that he got Zuko where he wanted him to be. “There is this band of traveling musicians from North Chung-Ling that I constantly heard about. They said that the mysterious lead singer’s voice is so lovely that it can put whoever’s listening into a trance. I only know that they nicknamed her as ‘The Songbird’ but other than that nothing else, and I for one would like to find out.”

Zuko nod his head a few times, “Then I should find someone who can reach out to them and invite them here.”

———————————————————————

A month after the invitation has been sent out and the palace received the confirmation that this famed band accepted the offer, preparations are made. Not only to welcome and host them for the time being but also for the ball where they will perform before the ambassadors from other nations and all the palace staffs. Turns out Zuko haven’t had the slightest inkling as to how popular they actually are before he made the announcement and suddenly the whole palace is in a frenzy. Everybody wants to go and watch the performance.

And the night that they’ve all waited for is now upon them. Sadly Zuko cannot welcome them himself because he was held up in the meeting so it was only Uncle Iroh who greeted and escorted them. He has heard from the tittle-tattle exchanged between the staffs though that the band consisted of 9 person and they’re all women.

It’s been a while since Zuko got to relax and enjoy the luxury that came with his position. And not many know that their Fire Lord is actually a huge art nerd especially for theater, but music performances has a special place in his heart too. He could only hope that this band lives up to their reputation.

———————————————————————

Zuko sit at his ornate covered throne (minus the wall of fire that usually accompanied every reigning Fire Lord) and he’s embarrassed to admit that he may or may not be shaking from anticipation. Tapping his right foot on the floor to ease some of the tension. Even Uncle Iroh noticed his behavior and looked at him questionably to which Zuko only waved his hand in dismisal.

The Throne Room is crowded with people dressed to the nines in elaborate robes and gowns. But the center of the room remains empty for the musicians before they take their place there any minute now.

Some minutes later the door opened and nine women stepped in. Their colorful dresses so different from what he’s used to seeing amongst his people in their go-to black and red. Their hairstyle elaborate and completed with large hairpiece accessorized with beads, pins, tassels, or fresh flowers.

“Qitou” Zuko thought to himself. That’s why he recognized the style of hair from the time that he spent as a waiter in Jasmine Dragon. The women in the upper ring of Ba Sing Se sported that kind of hairstyle.

He spied them carrying various musical instruments ranging from pipa, guzheng, dizi, and others. Holding it close to their chest as if it’s a baby.

When they reached the center, they wordlessly take their designated position forming a half circle but left an empty space right in the middle of their formation.

Before Zuko could watch any further, the door swung open again and the last of the member entered. It’s her.... The Songbird.

She walks as if she’s floating, the fact that her feet are covered by her trailing dress produced an even more dramatic effect. But it works in her favor, Zuko realized, as all eyes in the room immediately goes to her.

There is something magnetic about her, he could feel it as he drink her in, a tug in his chest. She graced him with a small smile and a bow before she took her position and motioned to the rest of her companions that she’s ready.

Melodies filled the room as the musicians played their instruments expertly, hands moving with little to no effort as if it’s all already imprinted to their muscle memory.

Zuko never thought that it’s possible for her to dazzle him even more than she already did, but that was before she opened her mouth and starts singing that heavenly tune. After that, Zuko knew that he’s a goner.

He clings to the lull of her voice, letting it fill him, resounded in him. He never felt this serene ever since he found out that his mother had left. But The Songbird managed to accomplish the impossible and made him feel alive. Truly live instead of just existing.

It seems like he’s not the only one who she won over. Uncle Iroh’s gapping like a fish, some of the palace staffs eyes are either glazed or filled with tears, and the ambassadors for once are not in each other’s throats.

If he wasn’t convinced earlier on making them this palace’s official entertainers, he sure is now.

———————————————————————

On the next day after the ball he immediately approached one of the members when he saw her in the hall to inform her of his offer so that she can tell it to the others and discuss their decision.

He doesn’t need to wait long for in that same night he just got himself an official court entertainers.

Starting from there he invited them to play at dinners and afternoon tea times. Any excuse that he can get really to see her. Y/N... that’s her name, the girl who has been living in his head rent free ever since she walked into his life.

Sometimes it’s only her that he called for to sing for him as she strums her pipa. Her voice accompanying him while he sorts through correspondence, writing back a reply, or draft up a plan.

Zuko and Y/N grew closer and became friends, they share about their day to each other. All that they’ve been up to before they finally got the time to enjoy each other’s presence.

Spending soo much time with him daily makes Y/N aware of certain things. The most pushing matter is the fact that the Fire Lord is close to burning himself out yet there’s no sign of him stopping anytime soon.

“You know you should get more rest, you look awful.” Y/N said to him that night instead of jumping to another song as she just finished the last one.

“Ouch you’re hurting my feelings, Y/N. Do I really look that bad?” Zuko replied but his manners is all teasing.

“I don’t mean that you look ugly, I don’t think you’re even capable of it. It’s just that you look like you’re about to drop dead anytime, Zuko. It’s killing me to see you this exhausted but I couldn’t do anything to help it.” She murmured, looking at him tenderly, the man she has grown to care for much more than she ought to.

Something in her words served like a lock that turned open the vault of Zuko’s hidden emotions, to the ugly burden that he insisted on bearing alone. He let his guard down and made himself vulnerable in front of her, all his raw emotions on display.

“I have trouble sleeping, because of nightmares mostly, but some nights sleep just doesn’t found me at all.” Zuko confessed, the words pouring out before he could think it through.

The encouragement in her eyes made Zuko go on and he told her all about the things that troubles him so. The rebels inside the capital planning to usurp him, the conflict with the colonies, the impending possible war with the Earth Kingdom, even his own insecurities about his credibilities to rule. He bared it all to her and once he finished, he saw no judgement or pity in her eyes, only understanding.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to be you... but you have been so strong, Zuko. And i’m proud of you, I bet so is your uncle, the Avatar, and the rest of your friends. Please stop doubting yourself too much, you’re capable of achieving soo many incredible and revolutionary things. And I want you to know that I believe in you.” Y/N said as she slowly took his hands in hers, running her fingers across his knuckles.

And Zuko felt himself beaming, because for once he truly believes that he is indeed capable and in the end he’ll figure it all out. All thanks to her, his Songbird, if she even wants to be his.

———————————————————————

Zuko and Y/N talked late into the night and she ended up falling asleep right where she sat in a divan across from his bed.

When she woke up sometime later, she saw that it is already 1 in the morning. And she felt like she’s overstaying her welcome by being in his chambers, it wouldn’t be appropriate at all if a servant were to discovers them.

So she stretched her body, hearing some cracks from the stiffness, but then she heard a whimper. It’s coming straight from Zuko’s bed where he’s trashing around and getting himself all tangled up in his silk blanket. At this rate she’s afraid he might accidentally choke himself to death.

Y/N lowers her feet to the rug covered floor and slowly padded her way to his bedside. She went down on her knees and reached out a hand to rub his hair back, hoping that he could feel her touch and that it would call him down from his nightmare.

“Shhh....shhhh” She cooed to him, her heart broke in her chest when she saw how pained he look. “It’s alright, Zuko. I’m here and it’s just a dream.”

Zuko flung himself up, his eyes wide open. Chest heaving frantically and she can see the sweats trailing down the side of his head.

It took him some time before he calmed down and became aware of her. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

Y/N shaked her head, “Don’t worry about that, is it always this bad? the nightmares?” She asked him, her heart fluttering over the fact that he’s aware of her hands holding his yet he doesn’t pull away.

“Yeah... sometimes even worse, this is actually a mild episode compared to the others. Some night I actually woke up screaming.” He said as he lowered his head, avoiding her eyes.

But she softly grasped his chin and tilted his face back up, “Hey now don’t shy away from me, we’re way past that don’t you think?”

“Do you want me to sing you a song? I’ve been working on it for some time, it’s for you actually.” Y/N said.

Zuko stammered over his words, “Y—you wrote me a song?”

“Uh huh, scoot over if it’s a yes.” To which Zuko gladly did and gave her a generous amount of space.

“Sorry if it’s a weird request but can you hold me?” Zuko asked timidly.

Y/N answered with a nod and smile at him as she tugged him close, letting him rest his head on her stomach and draped her hands on his sides. Once she deemed that he’s comfortable enough with the position, she took a huge breath and starts to sing.

Sweetheart, you look a little tired when did you last eat?

Come in and make yourself right at home, stay as long as you need

Zuko’s eyes found hers as he listened to the words that she wrote with him in mind. A weary smile bloomed on his handsome face at the realization that all this time she was paying attention to how he has been doing.

Tell me, is something wrong? if something's wrong, you can count on me

You know I'll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat

He gulped, hard. This girl with a golden voice, wrote all this... for him? Agni, this is too much for him to even process. He could barely calm his heart, it’s pounding so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if it actually burst.

Like a force to be reckoned with

A mighty ocean or a gentle kiss

I will love you with every single thing I have

Y/N forced herself to hold his searing gaze, every part of her body feels warm and alive at the way that he’s looking at her. Like he’s truly at awe and he doesn’t deserve any of this. But she continued, pouring her feelings into every single word so that he would understand, could see how wonderful he is in her eyes.

Like a tidal wave, I'll make a mess

Or calm waters, if that serves you best

I will love you without any strings attached

There is a hidden but lingering promise in this song, one that Zuko founds himself debating whether or not he dare tread to. Because he knows that if he took that one step in, he could never go back.

No, I don't want to talk about myself

Tell me where it hurts

I just want to build you up, build you up

'Til you're good as new

And maybe one day I will get around to fixing myself too

Zuko reached out a hand and rub her cheek, marveling in the softness of it under his touch. He felt her breath hitched for just a second but she never faltered.

And what a privilege it is to love

A great honor to hold you up

Zuko let out a chuckle as he heard the word honor, how different he perceived it now from a few years ago.

She reached the final lyric and the song came to an end, for a while they can only look at each other.

“Thank you.... it’s lovely, you’re lovely.” Zuko murmured to her, with a hand still on her cheek.

“I’m glad you like it.” Y/N said, smiling down at him as she relishes in the feeling of his soft strands between her fingers.

“Would you stay here with me, Songbird?” He asked, hope alit in those amber eyes.

“Yes.. yes,” She replied. “Tonight, tomorrow, the day after that... as long as you want me here then I won’t go anywhere.”

Zuko grinned, “Then you’ll be staying here for a long, long time.”

Y/N leaned down and planted a kiss on the crown of his head, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

So they stayed, together in that bed, all tangled up. For the first time in forever, the nightmares didn’t come and Fire Lord Zuko got the best sleep of his life.

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moonbeambucky · 4 years

Text

Hey Neighbor (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 1907 Warnings: none

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: What started as an idea back in 2017 is finally here and I’m so excited!! I hope you love it as much as I do! A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira and to Allie @all1e23 who’s helped me keep my sanity while trying to write. Feedback is always appreciated!

HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

For an August evening it’s surprisingly comfortable, devoid of that awful humidity that leaves you choking on the thickness in the air. Yet it’s still warm enough to quickly melt the ice in your glass; condensation pooling on the outside, leaving a ring of water on the small stack of papers your drink is settled on.

Golden toned clouds cover the sky as the sun begins to fade, each day decreasing its presence by a few minutes before giving way to the darkness that would envelope the evening. It wasn’t a dramatic change, nor was it something most people would pay attention to, though it was something you had been accustomed to taking note of.

You looked forward to seeing the sun, feeling its heat on your skin as you stepped out of the office after a long day of work. As other people on the street rushed towards the subway you stood off to the side, letting your spirit recharge with its warm glow.

These days you seldom had time for yourself, moments when you could enjoy the nothingness, where you could stop and breathe, and take in the world around you. The murmured voices of the passersby, the hissing sound of the bus as it opens its doors, the soft strum of a guitar, the endless car horns and the sound of traffic that keeps this city alive like a beating heart.

The heat of your laptop warmed your thighs as you thumbed through a textbook. You ignored your rumbling stomach that begged you for a real dinner but you were determined to finish up this last part of your paper before you gave in to its whining demands.

You were working towards your Master’s Degree in Social Work but it had taken a lot longer than you expected, and juggling a full time job while taking part time classes made it more difficult but you were determined to achieve your dream.

You thought it would be simple when you first moved to New York; go to college, get your degree and find a job. Well, life has a funny way of doing what it wants despite the plans you imagined. Halfway through getting your undergraduate degree your living arrangements changed. Initially you were sharing an apartment with a few other students but your landlord hadn’t told you he was months into foreclosure and suddenly you found yourself scrambling to find a place to live.

The first instinct you had was to ask your current roommates if you all wanted to find something else together but one of them planned on moving in with a friend temporarily since she was about to graduate and the other wanted to live alone. You scoured the internet for another room rental but nothing looked safe or legitimate, and searching through Facebook groups for student rentals was fruitless. Nothing was available considering it was the middle of the semester, so you quickly began an apartment search.

Your definition of expensive drastically changed since moving to New York. Even simple things like food and coffee had an up charge; a small, no– large price to pay for city living, and rent was no different. You thought what you were paying to live in a small room was a lot, but as you searched for apartments your heart dropped. Even the smallest studio cost thousands a month.

There was one that caught your eye, the price was decent but still more than what you were currently paying. You attempted to work out a plan, thinking you could use some money from what little savings you had to make up the difference for the first month or two and hope your part time job would increase your hours. Things would be tight but there was a chance you could make it happen.

Your hope was crushed the next day when you went to see the apartment, a five story walk up that reeked of musty water. The cracked plaster walls were very off putting as were the suspicious black spots along the baseboards. The bathroom was much smaller than the photos, with hardly any room to even turn around in. Still you debated making this work as long as the suspected mold was taken care of until you opened the kitchen cupboards and screamed. A dark mass of large cockroaches scattered away from the light cementing your decision that you could not live here.

That night you texted your friend from home, Wanda, telling her about the horrible apartment and crying on the phone as she called to comfort you.

Wanda had been your best friend since you met in middle school. You always hoped she would join you in New York but you understood her reasons for wanting to be close to home.

“Wan, I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” you cried.

The clock was ticking and you still hadn’t found a place to live. Every day you searched through all the listings on Zillow, Apartments.com and Craigslist, and every day your anxiety increased. It seemed like there was no way to be a full time student if you wanted to live in New York.

You called your parents to let them know what was going on and asked for advice. Through many tears you had come to a painful decision, you needed to get a full time job. They offered to help with rent while you finished up this semester which you appreciated, knowing they really couldn’t afford the extra expense either. Your idea was to go to school part time, taking whatever courses you could at night or on the weekends. You were still reaching for your goal, you would just be taking a slower path.

A new listing popped up for an apartment in Chelsea that was about three times your current rent. Walking into the building your stomach was bubbling with excitement. Everything was bright and clean and the moment you stepped into the apartment you were overcome with joy; this place felt like home.

A smile spread across your face as you looked around the studio. Walking in there was a small kitchen to the right, with a slim refrigerator, small stove and just enough prep space beside the sink. Checking the cabinets you were relieved to know it was free of any insect roommates.

The bathroom was behind it, looking newly renovated while still emulating a classic vintage style of black and white tiles. The main room felt large with the window on the back wall letting in a good amount of sunlight. The cream colored walls also brightened the space against the longest wall of exposed, worn brick. The floors were a beautiful dark walnut that made everything feel warm.

You always thought love at first sight was a myth but you were proven wrong, you fell in love with this apartment immediately. You signed a lease and gave a deposit and suddenly everything seemed like it would fall into place. There was still the daunting task of finding a full time job but you felt encouraged.

Two weeks later you moved into your new apartment, and while you should have been studying for a test you were more interested in unpacking and decorating, making everything perfect. With a few nails into the drywall you hung a curtain rod above your bed, stringing fairy lights behind delicate sheer drapery that defined a cozy sleep space.

Laying back against your pillow you imagined what your apartment would look like eventually when you had the money to fill it with furniture, but for now it was perfect.

You had been on a few interviews and nearly had a job or two before they realized you wouldn’t be able to start for another six weeks. It was disappointing but you didn’t give up and that’s when you found yourself interviewing for Stark Industries.

A confident smile held strong on your face when you told the interviewer Ms. Parker you would be able to start when your semester was over. This led you both into a discussion about college as she told you about her teenage nephew who was interested in the STEM field and had begun looking into college options. Ms. Parker liked you a lot, and the job was yours as soon as you were ready for it.

You became the administrative assistant to Maria Hill, Director of Research and Development who worked closely with the senior staff. You had seen the infamous Tony Stark only once, popping his head out of the conference room as Ms. Hill and CEO Pepper Potts continued to chat.

From your desk you admired the women you aspired to be as confident as some day. Social work was a tough field, one where you needed to balance composure and empathy with assertiveness.

While working at Stark Industries you managed to take two classes per semester, fitting them in on nights and weekends. You wished you would have been able to do more but even this was burning you out quickly. You had little time to socialize but knew this would be worth it in the end.

A few years passed and had life not derailed your plan you would have had your Master’s by now, instead you had one last class to finish before you needed to complete 1200 hours of an internship. You pushed that off until the end, knowing it would take you some time to find a place that would accept you. Even though you would be working for free most places wanted you there at times that conflicted with your paying job.

As the sun began its slow descent the noise of the city increased and you had to shut your window to block out the sounds. All but one.

The soft guitar had increased in volume playing a familiar tune you heard every night. It wasn’t a song you’d ever heard before but your neighbor had played it often enough it was in your head. Instead of writing about a social worker’s role as an advocate for protecting human rights your mind drifted along with the melody.

It was a nice song but not one you wanted to hear every night and yet, every night your neighbor played like they were performing a concert instead of being considerate to the fact that they have neighbors, some of whom are trying to write a damn paper!

You haven’t seen this neighbor yet but you heard him moving into the apartment about a month ago. The paper thin walls allowed you to hear everything, from the instruments he played to the various women. Oh yes, he played them too, using a different one each night. Unfortunately you were able to tell the difference between each one by the sounds of the shrieks and moans that were burned into your mind until you decided to wear headphones to sleep.

Any attempts to continue your paper are futile and so you pack up your laptop and books and head down to the cafe a few blocks away that stays open late. It’s unfortunate that on top of the expensive rent and the cost of school you had to leave the comfort of your apartment to spend more money while occupying space in the cafe just to do your homework; all because of that selfish “Music Man” that you couldn’t wait to give a piece of your mind to.

PART 2

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series

1K notes · View notes

arieswonjin · 3 years

Text

open seams; full

pairings: ham wonjin x femme!reader

genre: fluff, angst, friends to lovers au

word count: 8.6k

navigation: teaser

warnings: alcohol and intoxication, use of sharp objects, minor injury

song inspo: all my love | playlist

a/n: this is for a fic exchange with @cravitywriters' first batch of members :> apologies this came a bit late >

masterlist | request here! | how to request |

it took close to forever to find the perfect spot for the shop of your dreams. in this city and in these times, it took a lot of guts to even decide to run one.

the rent uptown was crazy expensive and the high-fashion atmosphere dimmed the charm of your minimalist garments. the spots downtown were cheap, yes, but you had to deal with creaky and moldy floors, noisy air conditioning, and rude neighbors. it was a definite no-go. but after months and months, with pages of crossed-out vacancy lists and even deeper sighs, you found just the perfect home for your handmade pieces.

the small studio was a few minutes away from the main street and the subway station. the road it was on was lined with street art on both sides, there was decent foot-traffic, and a good number of cars passing by—a haven for independent brands. plus, the landlady who lived upstairs was a middle-aged woman who, as it seemed, made it a habit to bring you her homemade rice cakes almost daily. you liked to think that this, along with the reasonable rent, was a bonus from fate.

you found the place on a random walk with a close friend. it was his idea—wonjin said you needed some fresh air after only having fruitless searches for weeks. at least that’s what you thought he meant by “go home and shower, at least,” and “c’mon, let’s go on a walk before you start to have nightmares about landlords.” who would’ve thought you’d find this place when you weren’t even looking?

the meager amount you saved up from commissions and tips while you took up different part-time jobs and sold custom pieces was enough to pay for a few months as you got your new brand established. the place wasn’t much—just enough to hold five racks of clothes, a tiny storage room, a display area, a bit of walking space—and you had to rely on your old equipment for now, but you already loved the shop dearly because it was your own.

it took a lot of heart, a lot of meals consisting of just ramyeon, a lot of needle pricks…

and a very willing model.

“ow!” a cry of pain followed by a trail of childish laughter from the same person echoed off of the walls of your empty shop. it was almost evening and the clear glass door let in a ray of orange sunlight, shining over rolls of fabric, spools of thread, and several sketches that littered your shop’s floor. it was the typical scene: you with your eyebrows furrowed in focus and your noisy yet undoubtedly helpful friend wonjin with unsewn fabric and pins over his own clothes as he stood on a small platform. even your bickering was part of the routine you’ve established the past few weeks as you prepared for opening day. seven days left!

“i’m sorry!” you withdrew the hand holding the tiny culprit, looking closely at the spot on wonjin’s shoulder which you pricked. “i promise i’ll be done in a quick minute. maybe if you put your phone down for a while…” you muttered the last part, meaning for him to hear it anyway. inside, you were thankful that he has been patient with you as you did your thing, but you just couldn’t resist an opportunity to jab at ham wonjin with your remarks. after such, he was nearly impossible to shut up.

but that’s just wonjin being wonjin and that’s what always made you want him around.

“y/n, i came to be your volunteer model, not a pin cushion.” he jabbed back and teased you, waiting for the reaction he now memorized and repeatedly coaxed out of you just for kicks: a roll of the eyes followed by a swing of the hand aimed at him which you never followed through with. nonetheless, he fake-dodged on instinct and laughed, as you knew he would.

“stay still or i’ll prick you intentionally, wonjin.”

“‘young male found pricked to death by owner of up-and-coming clothing brand…’ imagine that headline.” he trailed off and now stayed still as he chatted you up. you appreciated this, the light and familiar company as you worked to enter the unfamiliar territory that is your new business. you shook your head at his nonsense and smiled to yourself.

it was only when you locked the final stitch that evening that you leaned back and realized just how long your day has been—your eyes and back were sore, your hands were all tight and in need of a break, and your head refused to recall your designs anymore. your body was telling you to wrap the day up.

“what do you want?” you sighed and opened one of your eyes after a satisfying stretch. wonjin was standing in front of you with his palms extended and an unreadable expression on his face. what did he want?

“your hands. hurry.” a momentary pause with your mind almost going blank. my hands? “i want to try that thing you do with your knuckles when you’re done with work.” he finally stepped forward and grabbed both of your hands, making you take a few seconds to comprehend what he meant. it must be the exhaustion that’s making your brain function slower than it usually does. or maybe it’s this proximity.

“you mean cracking them?” you asked as you looked up at him from your seat.

“mhmm.” wonjin started to crack your knuckles one by one, commenting on how loud the sound from each finger was. this was an absurd scene, really, but you couldn’t deny how amusing it was to watch him and how such a simple gesture relieved a good amount of your tiredness.

“tsk.” it was all you could say after he cracked the last pinky, his hands lingering on yours a few seconds after. “okay, that’s enough, you’re going to injure me,” you grunted as you stood up and walked past him towards the storage room, hiding a now pink face.

“opening day is in exactly a week.” wonjin thought aloud as he started to pick up the clutter on the floor. “that’s still a lot of time, you know. why don’t you take tomorrow off? go to a sauna or something.” he offered the idea even though he knew so, so well that you were going to be fast to turn it down. it was too bad that you had no plans of pausing until opening day. maybe then he would’ve found the time to show you a little something he was working on. it was worth a shot, he thought. i’ll give it a few more days.

“no can do. i still have to work on jungmo’s piece. you’re bringing him over tomorrow, right?”

“if the free barbecue for us is still up… then, yes.” wonjin beamed, proud that he landed a good deal after convincing one of your friends to model for you. honestly, you believed the effort he’s been exerting for you and your shop was worth far more than a barbecue treat, but he insisted that he would accept nothing more than that.

ham wonjin always had a knack for being thoughtful without being obvious about it and it has indeed grown on you although you were quite slow to admit it to yourself.

“i’ll tell him to brace for the pin pricks.”

“pft.” you rolled your eyes at him and started to help clear out the shop before both of you got ready to leave. “let’s get coffee before walking home? it’s on me.” with a casual ruffle of wonjin’s hair, a silent thanks from you to him, met with a subsequent shake of his head to rearrange it, you closed the shop up with an unexpectedly light heart.

it was just another one out of many nights you spent walking home to the same neighborhood and it went by as it always did—seeing the bold words and symbols spray-painted on the walls of the street you were in, hearing him tell you about how cool they looked at night to which you responded as enthusiastically, pointing out newer and smaller details every time you walked past them—yet it never got old or boring.

silently, you wished the next seven days would unfold perfectly, just like how things were then and there in that small city street.

help, he’s been talking about you since we sat down. come quickly.

a text message from jungmo pulled you out of your sleepy train of thought as you stood on the crowded subway, three stops away from your destination: to a breakfast cafe where you planned to meet with wonjin and jungmo before working on the piece for your new model.

from a face that was barely awake came a blush that’s been finding its way there quite often recently. you’ve been trying to send away your suspicions that you were growing fonder and fonder of wonjin and your attempts would usually be successful if not for text messages like this. a fraction of the blame for your confusion goes to your friends for their persistent hints and teases. they may as well be just that: meaningless hints and empty teases stemming from the constant bickering that your friends found cute and endearing. the fact that you and wonjin were almost joined at the hip for the past few months didn’t help. neither did his clinginess which you suddenly start to look for on days he was too busy with his own matters to drop by.

the casual offers to walk you home, the few seconds he spends wordless and silent when you get too close as you worked on his pieces, or the smallest gestures to help you out with the shop were all subjected to your overthinking. but nevermind all that. you didn’t have plans of telling anyone about this anyway. a short reply would suffice for now.

bleh. i’m almost there.

your face glowed as you got closer and closer to the cafe. no one would have been able to tell that you were stressing over a million little things about the imminent opening day. for reasons you couldn’t put a finger on, you wanted to at least overhear a hint of what wonjin was saying about you before you sat down and kept a straight face in front of him again. anything; the smallest compliment, the most mundane story about how you spent time together, anything that could fuel you up for the next few days knowing that thoughts of you lived in his head too. all that after denying to acknowledge any feelings. way to be fickle, y/n, you thought to yourself.

entering the packed and brightly-decorated cafe, you approached the two friends who’ve already ordered their meals. huh, thanks a lot. from behind the booth table they picked out, you slowed down, planning on intentionally not making your presence known until you were almost seated.

your face dropped the very second their conversation reached earshot.

“it’s beginning to become burdensome. i don’t think we even match. it’s never going to happen. just a few more days and i swear—i’m done,” you heard this in wonjin’s unmistakable voice, with a tone of annoyance that went straight through your chest.

“i see.” jungmo nodded and the two continued digging into their breakfast, still unaware of your arrival.

you took this as an opportunity to turn your heels and retrace your steps to the subway station, sending jungmo a quick text before you wallowed in your scattered thoughts. you felt the heat radiating from your face but now for a much different reason.

if there were two things you hated the most in the world, it was being lied to and unnecessarily troubling the people you cared about. it felt worse hearing both from wonjin’s mouth. this was the same person who’s been there for you for months while you built the shop from the ground up, the same person who’s seemingly been helping you unconditionally. you were at a loss about who to blame: yourself for not noticing how much your shop was demanding from him or wonjin for keeping all this pent-up annoyance behind your back.

last night, when you imagined how the rest of your week would pan out, you didn’t expect to see yourself inside a packed subway train, desperately keeping your tears from pouring.

“that’s weird. y/n just said she went directly to the shop instead. urgent.” jungmo perked up at your sudden message, eyes on his phone as he ate the last slice of his pancake.

“what? y/n didn’t text me anything after she said she was a station away. she would’ve told me.” wonjin looked around the cafe, sure that jungmo was mistaken and half-expecting to see you meters away from their table. “i already ordered for her though…”

“she’s asking me to come by quickly so she can finish fitting the pieces. it won’t take until lunch, right?” jungmo’s question went unnoticed as a now preoccupied wonjin kept his eyes on the untouched plate in front of him.

“so stubborn, tsk. really can’t get her hands off her work. one of these days she’s going to get sick. and you know she lives alone so—”

“dude. now that we’re back to y/n, you’re chattering again. just finish your food so i can go get fitted.”

wonjin sighed and furrowed his eyebrows, inwardly worried about your sudden change of plans and ready to nag at you for not giving yourself even the slightest break. what is she doing not giving herself even half an hour for breakfast? this fool.

there was barely any room for the sound of the shop’s door chimes, which signaled the two’s arrival, with wonjin’s trail of nags starting before he was even entirely inside. hearing all this from the storage room where you were distracting yourself by reorganizing your fabrics, you let out a deep sigh and hoped your eyes did not look too red and swollen before you stepped out. this is stupid, you thought. you had no time for delays but your emotions were getting the best of you. if you were going to finish your work, it had to be without him.

“y/n, at this rate you’re going to tire yourself out and get sick on opening day. we agreed last night you’d be at the cafe to at least stuff yourself with this before the long day,” wonjin took no breaths in between, placing the paper bag containing your forgotten breakfast on top of your work counter. “then suddenly you say you aren’t going anymore. did the racks arrive early? why did you suddenly—“

“thanks for coming, jungmo.” you greeted the older male, cutting off wonjin's monologue without even looking at him. jungmo just nodded and shrugged, obviously used to the dynamic between his two friends who were in front of him. he simply sat down on one of the wooden stools and started keeping himself busy with his phone. you felt bad that he had to be caught in the middle of this, but between confronting your feelings and doing what had to be done for the shop, you were sure you were much more ready to do the latter. “this won’t take that long, don’t worry.”

“did you hear me just now…? sit down and eat first, y/n.” wonjin started to sense that something was up with the way you paced around busily as you got your materials ready and purposely avoided his eyes.

“i thought i texted you not to come,” a muttered statement was finally sent his way—a weak acknowledgment of his presence—but you were still looking at anything but him. from your peripheral vision, you saw wonjin getting his phone out to check what you meant.

“huh… i didn’t see that…” his usual speaking volume started to drop, a sign that you knew meant he was genuinely puzzled.

“now that you have…” you kept a straight face and mustered the heart to look at him, trying to act as nonchalant as you could even though you knew that the next words out of your mouth were not you. “go home. or somewhere else, at least… spare yourself the burden of being stuck here again.”

“what are you talking about?” he started to laugh to try and lighten up the rising tension, a habit of his. is this some kind of prank? he thought to himself and searched your expression for some giveaways. “is jungmo replacing me?” when he saw that you weren’t laughing along, he paused.

“no time for questions, okay, wonjin? it’s time to go, i need to get to work and this isn’t helping. please go.” it took everything in you to keep yourself calm and collected and you didn’t know how many more questions you could dodge. why am i being so emotional, damn it.

“what do you mean ‘go?’” wonjin tried to laugh again, albeit a softer, less confident one. “this shop’s practically home... did something happen on the way here?”

“go as in...you don’t need to drop by anymore. i’m almost done with everything.” a total lie.

“i know you’ll do well by yourself, y/n, but you know i don’t mind helping. it’s not a big deal.” wonjin reassured, stepping forward as if this would prove his point. to your annoyance, he went on to bring your takeout breakfast out of its bag and proceeded to prepare the food on your work counter, all the while nagging at you for being the stubborn person you were. “it must be the hunger, y/n. come here and eat.”

you, on the other hand, kept your distance and contained a painful laugh. it was almost funny comparing what you heard earlier to the words he was saying right now. what was he playing at? “it must be tiring, huh? just go, okay? you don’t need to do all this. no one’s forcing you. i’ll be fine here.”

he sighed. “just tell me what’s going on. pushing me away like this when i don’t know what i’ve done? you’re being a bit hurtful right now,” wonjin’s last strands of patience were barely keeping him together, matching your slowly rising temper.

“trust me, i’ve heard worse. go.” your gaze pierced through him for a good few seconds until jungmo, who’s been slowly realizing that things were getting serious, pulled wonjin away before he blurted things out in frustration. the way wonjin looked right now was as if his questions were visibly jumping out of him. there’s never been an exchange this intense between the two of you no matter how much you bickered and everyone in the room knew it.

reaching his limit, wonjin shook free from jungmo and briskly walked out of the shop, leaving a strange silence after the chimes died down.

the next couple of days consisted of wonjin keeping himself from going back to the shop and you trying to dodge jungmo’s probing questions as you worked. even after countless attempts to rethink what he did that day, he was still clueless about what prompted you to deny any help or to avoid him entirely. the years of friendship you had meant that he knew you were not the type of person to dismiss others without any good reason.

but his pride went head to head with his worry and this led him to spend consecutive late nights with unsent messages, apologies written and deleted, calls not made, and questions not asked. after all, what was he going to apologize for? if anything, he believed he deserved an apology for being sent away without explanations. with this thought, wonjin would pull on his hair in frustration because of how childish he sounded in his head.

just when i thought things were going well between us. just when he was ready to tell you how, with your passion and perseverance and, he admitted, maybe a bit of your friends’ little remarks on how you two looked good together, you’ve slowly made a friend fall for you in the span of the past few months.

“okay, get this. there’ll be new collections every month and they’ll all be themed after the zodiacs. but i wonder if i can come up with pieces that fast? or how about i do quarterly collections? maybe that’ll be better, releasing three designs altogether…i just wonder if i can keep that up for the whole year. would anyone even show up to buy my stuff? what do you think? god, i don’t even have a name for my shop yet.”

several months ago, when the shop still seemed out of reach and it felt impossible to settle on a place to start your business, you would cheer yourself up by picturing the ideal: your shop all decked and ready, packed with people shopping for your new collections, appreciating the hours of hard work that went into each handmade piece. with every spurt of excitement, wonjin would just be the constant cheerleader and voice of reason, both supporting you and bringing you back down to reality.

“why are you looking at me like that, ham wonjin?” you turned to get a view of the boy seated beside you on the bus stop, an uncharacteristically wordless wonjin, his head slightly tilted away with a downward gaze at you, an amused look on his face. the day was almost coming to an end, a full day spent walking around town, lists of units for rent on hand.

“nothing. i think that’s a good idea.” he smiled and looked up to think. “but it sounds like you’ll be wearing yourself out. what about doing monthly collections when you find more help?”

“you’ve got a point.” you considered this but you were nonetheless excited about the potential this little shop holds. “anyway, let’s go. i still have a lot of open seams to sew.”

“open seams.” wonjin repeated.

“yeah, the unfinished pieces. remember? the shop? me? sewing? clothes?” you teased, acting out every word like a mime.

“no, dummy. open seams. the name of your shop. it sounds catchy doesn’t it?” it was wonjin’s turn to get excited and your turn to find amusement in his enthusiasm. “didn’t you say open seams look unfinished but that’s what gives them the edge?”

“wow, i can’t believe you actually listen to me blabber about seams.”

wonjin whined at this, defending himself and saying that he always listened. you said the new name, again and again, testing out how it felt to say and how it sounded. “open seams. it does sound great...”

that hug out of nowhere and the strong tug at his hand pulling him towards the bus that just stopped in front of the both of you was all he could remember as he walked home that night. the very next morning after that encounter, he set off to a certain street art-lined street with your shop in mind after finding an online listing for a vacancy that was just the perfect price, the perfect size, and on the perfect street that would soon be housing your pieces of art.

pulling his mind back to the present and attempting to keep it from wandering to you again, he made himself busy with the only other thing he had going on: the last few days of a low-paying multimedia job he impulsively committed to and is now regretting. he stretched in his chair, his phone kept in place with his cheek and shoulder.

“how’s that media job you were talking about the other day? still a burden?” jungmo’s calls have been the only thing keeping wonjin in touch with what’s going on in the shop. even if he didn’t ask, the reliable hyung kept him up to date with the last set of preps and your occasional breakdowns.

“it’s a definite no-match. i’ve got three days left and i just want to make a run for it.” wonjin looked at all the uninteresting piles of manuals haphazardly stacked on his home desk, a reflection of how much he despised working this job from home. truth be told, he would much rather be working with you downtown. “how are things?”

“you mean, how’s y/n?”

“you know what i mean.”

“she’s out to eat with yuna right now after refusing a hundred times. we’re staying with her until tonight, though, so don’t worry.”

“alright.” wonjin sighed, feeling powerless that he was of no help to ease your load yet still refusing to do anything about it.

“just talk to each other, for god’s sake! you both sound terrible-” jungmo shouted through the phone, pleading to his younger friend. “do you even know how many times i tried to ask y/n about what happened between you two? seventy-seven times, wonjin. seventy-seven times. yes, i counted-”

“i’m hanging up.” wonjin tossed the phone away making it land somewhere among the stack of items on his messy desk. a few seconds after he rudely ended the call, a text message from a persistent jungmo. dinner still on tonight. you have to come with us, dude.

you didn’t know what came over you. there were only three days left until your shop’s opening day. there were still several patterns to cut up, clothing pieces that needed to be sewn together, and more people to invite for your brand to gain traction, yet you were here at a nearby barbecue place, giving in to your friends’ requests for you to let loose for a few hours with a couple of shots of alcohol, good food, and conversations that held until several hours after midnight.

anyone would’ve noticed how tense you’ve become in a span of a few days—from the tired yet happy y/n who’s excited to get to work every morning despite the imminent deadline to an irritable, downcast y/n who wouldn’t keep their eyes and ears off of their work and nothing else.

and yes, everyone knew the reason behind this sudden change in work attitude. it was an open secret: the sudden and unexplainable drift between you and wonjin, previously an inseparable pair of friends, and both of your unwillingness to patch it up. your friends decided that mentioning it to either of you was just like nudging a rock on the side of a cliff, especially with an important occasion happening soon.

for wonjin, there was a mix of pride and confusion. why were you suddenly pushing him away when he was closer to you than he ever was? he never left your side as you built your shop from the ground up only for you to passive-aggressively refuse any further help a week before opening day. he deserved a proper explanation, but he would almost worry himself into sleep deprivation thinking about how important opening day was to you. it was either he asked you directly and tip the delicate mind balance you had as you got things in order or he could wait it out and almost go crazy at the mere thought of not hearing a peep from you.

for you, it was pure disappointment. in yourself or him, you were not sure. all you wanted was to stay sane for the time being and you told yourself that this was only possible if you didn’t see or hear him anywhere near you. you’ve heard how he truly felt, you heard it crystal clear, so there was nothing else to talk about. after all, if he saw you as a burden, why push any further?

so alas, there you were, with a small group of friends and a whole night to spend without any of your handmade pieces or clothed mannequins.

slow down? you repeated in your head once you heard jungmo and yuna’s invitation to tonight’s mini get-together. slowing down just made you remember how dull the days have been ever since you sent wonjin away that morning. stupid, talkative, playful wonjin who gave you the best, most comforting company. slowing down made you miss him, but you weren’t going to say that out loud.

this was probably what the sober you would have thought, but your slurred speech and buffering mind, now clouded with the two bottles of alcohol you’ve consumed that night, begged to differ. you were now in a state of zero filter and total unawareness of the faces swimming around you.

“burdensome? tsk. so i was burdensome to him, huh?” you laughed bitterly and roughly downed another shot of soju, using the back of your hand to trap any spills from your lips. “idiot. wonjin is an idiot. if you didn’t want to stay close to me, just tell me, damn it!” you shouted, repeatedly stomping your feet on the floor like a child.

your incoherent sentences, flushed cheeks, and unfocused eyes were what welcomed wonjin when he arrived at your table, half-jogging. jungmo, who has been carefully watching you since you asked for your second bottle, gave him an apologetic look and shrugged, gesturing to the empty bottles in front of you. “look, i know you refused to come and eat dinner with us but i had to call you. you live the closest to y/n.”

wonjin shook his head and laughed, half in disbelief and half in amusement. and here he thought he was going to spend his night cooped up with work to get you out of his head. “has she been calling me names all night?”

“you have no idea. good luck.” he patted wonjin’s back and watched as he pulled you up from your seat,

“let’s go, y/n. you can continue talking shit about me on the way home, okay?” wonjin’s tone was gentle as if he was testing the waters. the last thing he wanted was for you to lash out at him then and there. first, he needed to get you home. you two can talk some other time. hopefully.

“who’s this purple-haired clown? why is your hair purple like wonjin’s? are you his twin? is that idiot your twin?” it was a surprise you even managed to get those words out in between hiccups.

“idiot? you’re the idiot, getting drunk like this.” wonjin muttered under his breath. he still struggled to pull you up and support your body weight but what he found was that the best way to keep you conscious was to indulge you in conversation.

and that he did as he walked you to the usual bus stop where you two always sat and waited for the last trip.

“…if you see him around, tell him this for me.” you started, unknowingly leaning your head on his shoulder, giving into the heaviness you felt around your temples. in your drunken state, you genuinely thought you were talking to a pure stranger.

“hmm?” wonjin looked down at you, softening as he saw you with your eyes tightly shut as you repressed nausea. “what should i tell him?

“tell him—tell him i need to know how to forget him… he needs to tell me— how to do that…even for just a few days… okay? you’ll tell him?” there was no way you could have stopped your subconscious from pouring out. it was the truth told as it was: all you wanted was to get through the next few days without the hassle of whatever emptiness it was that you felt.

“why don’t you tell him yourself?” wonjin let his head lean against yours, sighing the millionth sigh between the both of you since a few days ago. “and what if he doesn’t know how to do that either, with you?”

“why do you have so many questions?!” you grabbed his arm and shook it non-stop, making him laugh at how ridiculous you looked and sounded with your unfocused eyes and the non-sense you were spouting. “don’t ask me questions because i don’t know, okay?! i just miss ham wonjin!”

wonjin froze for a few seconds, simply blinking at you and at the words you were saying over and over again. when he finally recovered, he calmed you down and leaned your head on his shoulder again. “he says he feels the same way.”

a head-splitting ache woke you up at ten in the morning the next day, only two days before the most awaited opening day. the last thing you remembered from last night was being halfway through your second bottle of soju and your friends jungmo, yuna, and serim telling you to slow down. it didn’t really take a lot to guess that you didn’t listen to them.

after a few slow minutes of debating whether or not you can get up and get on with your day in one piece, you eventually pulled your blankets off of you and figured that you'd live with the consequences of last night’s choices. besides, you couldn’t skip a crucial preparation day. after sending your three friends a quick thank-you message for getting you home safely, your phone lit up again with a message. you did a double-take at the new notification that just arrived; it was a text message from wonjin. are you up?

three days of silence and all he asks me is if i’m up? you grunted, refused to open the message in question, and, seeing no point in dwelling, went on with the rest of your routine. you didn’t know what else you wanted to read from that text, but you sure weren’t expecting to see such a casual question after literally not having heard a peep from each other for days. if you were being honest, you half-expected him to arrive at dinner last night.

but whatever that text meant, you didn’t want to use your head, which at the moment felt like it weighs a ton, to think about it.

your forehead in your hands as you navigate around your now-sunlit studio apartment, you hoped that the last-minute invitations, quality checks, and tidying up would keep you busy enough to forget the fact that, last night, you could’ve sworn you dreamt of wonjin and how he sat beside you on a bus ride home.

“and there she is, fighting through the aftermath of alcohol.” yuna greeted loudly and met you halfway as you approached your shop on foot. last night, the three offered to be your manpower for the next few days which is why she, jungmo, and serim were all waiting for you out on the sidewalk, eyes squinted because of the sunlight and their mild hangovers.

“do we get some kind of prize that we arrived earlier than you?” serim asked as the four of you entered.

“coffee, as always.” this was met by a cheer from jungmo who wasted no time in attending to the shop decor which was still packed in boxes. “don’t worry, guys. if my shop does well, it’s meat for everyone.”

“it’s settled then.” yuna clapped and got everyone’s attention. “okay, team. to your usual tasks. serim, light fixtures. jungmo, decor. me, storage. y/n, create.”

“jungmo’s taller, why do i get the light fixtures?”

you smiled sincerely for the first time in a few days, touched that they’re taking time off from their days to get the shop together, to get you together. “oh, and guys, sorry about last night. feel free to curse at me. i must’ve been so heavy.” you sat down in front of your work counter, fighting back a cringe. after numerous nights out, you just knew they had a treasure chest full of embarrassing stories to haunt you with. you were thankful no one else was there to see you wiped out.

“hmm, you must’ve.” a knowing smile from a mischievous serim to jungmo and yuna. “but we wouldn’t know. right, guys?”

“yeah, y/n. i don’t know, i brought serim to his home.” yuna shared, trying to sound innocent but failing as she shouted from the storage room.

“and i went home alone because i wasn’t drunk.” jungmo followed without missing a single beat. now you were utterly confused. did these three just call a cab on you or did you walk yourself home? you looked at the three of them one by one, their questionable smiling faces met with the most puzzled look on your face.

“all i know is…” jungmo started, keeping himself from breaking out in laughter before he could get his words out. “you called him a purple-haired idiot. that’s it.”

“what?!” you stood up abruptly, making your chair tumble back with a thud.

and just then, you started to recall bits and pieces of last night, starting from the vague bus ride that, until a few moments ago, you thought was just a dream. what in the world did i do now?

“y/n, i’ll help you up, okay? we’re almost at our stop.” wonjin pulled you up from your bus seat where you’ve been half-asleep on his shoulder. putting his arms around you as he guided you down the vehicle and onto the sidewalk, he repeatedly apologized to the bus driver for the delay. wonjin could only nod and laugh at the friendly reply from the middle-aged man who shouted ‘take your girlfriend home safely!’ he silently wondered how sober y/n would have reacted to such a remark.

just as the two of you stepped down, a splattering against the ground made both of you stop in your tracks.

“good heavens,” wonjin muttered as he rubbed your back and looked at the part of his shoes that was now covered in whatever it was you had for dinner a while ago. “you know, y/n, i wonder if you’d remember this once you pass by this mess tomorrow morning. looks like you enjoyed your barbecue too much.” wonjin joked, still not halting the backrubs as you were doubled over with your hands on your knees.

when you looked up at him after that spiel, all you could do was smile apologetically and giggle, eyes half-open. “let’s go home. i’m tired.”

“are you all done? you’re not going to throw up on my shirt or anything?” wonjin pulled you away from the side of the road, leading you to the direction of your apartment. “you have to tell me your apartment password so you can go in, okay?”

“you have to guess it. you’re never going to guess it!” you pulled away from his hold and ran around him in circles, getting a thrill from how light you started to feel after letting some of the alcohol out.

jogging to catch up with you, wonjin shouted, “y/n, slow down you’re gonna hurt yourself! aish. this child.”

“i threw up on him.” you said out loud to no one in particular. the text from this morning, your friend’s teasing smiles, and the blurry, dream-like memories on the bus meant that wonjin did make it to dinner last night just when you were in no state of mind to remember when exactly he arrived. “i threw up on him outside my home... jungmo, it was you who called him, wasn’t it?! guys?!”

the laughter that filled the room after that and the whines of a terrified jungmo who wanted none of your punches were muffled by the sound of the door chimes tingling, signaling someone’s arrival. you almost snapped your neck as you hurried to see who it was.

“hi, dear.” instead of a particular young male, you were met with the sight of the friendly landlady from upstairs, a plate of her usual handmade treats on hand, and a welcoming smile on her face. you mentally flicked yourself for involuntarily expecting someone else. “rice cakes?”

“oh, auntie. it’s you.” the relief in your tone made your friends snicker. “thank you, you didn’t have to...”

“why so surprised, dear? were you expecting someone?” she asked, waving at the set of friends bustling away inside the shop with the same annoying smiles on their faces. “oh that’s right. where’s that lovely boy, wonjin?”

“lovely boy,” serim whispered and bit back a laugh, earning him a glare from you.

“he can’t make it today, auntie,” you explained shortly, politely getting the plate of rice cakes from her hands.

“that’s too bad. it’s almost opening day.” she looked around the shop, satisfied by how it’s starting to look compared to the bare and boring unit she used to clean every day. “you worked your magic in this place. it feels just like yesterday when he was begging me to keep this small spot reserved for a day.”

“what do you mean?”

“wonjin, that boy! remember? he was here the day before both of you passed by to finally rent it? ”

“i- i didn’t know that, auntie.”

all this time, you thought you both found the place by chance and now here you were finding out that he was the one who made sure open seams happened. the walk you took that day wasn’t such a random one after all. what was up with the universe today and its not-so-subtle way of telling you to let wonjin back into your mind and your life? him taking you home last night and now this; whatever happened to the burdensome y/n he was talking about?

“aaaand, another secret’s out.” yuna walked out of the storage room, a box of spools in hand. she beamed at the landlady who took a few seconds to figure out what she just revealed.

“oh. oops.” the landlady sheepishly turned back and started to push the door open, ready to take her leave. “i think that’s my cue. see you around, dear.”

“see you around, auntie!” your three friends greeted her when she was out of the shop. they turned their heads back to you who had nothing but a blank stare and mouth agape, the gears almost visibly turning inside your head.

“so now will you tell us what’s been going on between you two? it’s just weird knowing about all that and seeing you guys refuse to make up. both of you aren’t looking so good either, you know?” serim asked after giving you a few seconds to think.

you sighed, leaning on the side of the table for support. “that day at the breakfast cafe, he said all this was getting kind of heavy and burdensome. that he couldn’t wait for it to end.” you decided to tell them once and for all about how you felt. “and that we were never going to happen.”

“y/n. you’re so stupid. ow!” jungmo concluded, earning him a smack to both shoulders by serim and yuna. “he was talking about that job he had! if you stayed longer and ate with us, you would’ve heard how smitten he was even if he wouldn’t admit it. i can see right through him.” jungmo explained in a high-pitched tone that reflected how frustrated he has been with the two of you. “now that i think about it, you’re both stupid.”

smitten? you took in everything jungmo just said and remembered every word you blurted out when you sent wonjin away that morning. finding out that he had another job all while helping you out with the shop for the past few months made you regret how you acted even more. it frustrated you that you’ve been too preoccupied to even ask about him. this is all on me. why did i act so rashly? “i’m so stupid.”

“are we just now finally finding out that this was all a big misunderstanding?” yuna piped up, breaking the silence.

“and are you telling me that it almost took a fallout for you to finally see the feelings you had for each other? these kids,” serim added, raising both hands in defeat.

different variations of ‘i knew it’ and ‘it’s about time’ as well as ‘idiots’ filled the shop as you were still frozen in place. you knew you had to apologize to wonjin, but where were you even going to start? with that encounter at the cafe? with how bad you felt for invalidating his heart to help you and rudely pushing him away? with everything you think you blurted out on that drunk night? or maybe how you actually felt for him?

can you meet me here in 30 minutes?

it took wonjin less than a heartbeat to reply to your message asking about where he was. even though you were the one who was out of it last night, he couldn’t help but worry over his own impulses. if you remembered everything he told you while he thought you were drunk and asleep, he had no choice but to explain it to you while you were fully-sober. and the thought of finally confronting you about everything made the usually-confident and talkative wonjin tongue-tied.

“hey.” you turned the corner of the small side-street where wonjin asked to meet and found him leaning against one of the street art-ridden walls, waiting for you. it was a spot near your shop but one that you didn’t pass by as frequently. an odd choice of a meeting place, but you figured he wanted to talk to you without your friends overhearing.

“here of all places?” you struck up a conversation albeit awkwardly, buying yourself time before the long apology.

he pointed to the wall behind him, looking at it up and down. “i was supposed to show you this sooner since they finished it early but…”

behind him was a small piece of street art. open seams, it said in the colors you usually used for your handmade pieces and in the style you designed for your simple logo. you softened not only at the thought that this shop was becoming a reality but also at how wonjin did this despite your missteps the past few days. at this point, you no longer knew if you were even worthy of him and his thoughtfulness.

“...you were supposed to show me this sooner but i was terrible to you, and i’m sorry. you didn’t deserve that. after everything... i don’t know if saying thank you would even be enough. that morning-”

“you look like you just lost a million won, y/n.” his reply cut you off, earning him a roll of your eyes to which he merely responded with a playful laugh. “auntie told you, huh? i knew i couldn’t trust her and her rice cakes.” wonjin joked again, now more relaxed than he was moments ago now that things are starting to look up between the both of you. if there was anything that he needed for comfort the past few days, it was the presence that he’s gotten so used to.

“i’ve had quite the morning, you know.” you told him as you eased into the conversation. “finding out you were the one who brought me home last night, finding out i wouldn’t have gotten the unit if not for you, and finding out i was mad at you over something i misunderstood. all this time.”

what proceeded was a detailed apology you practiced in your head beforehand. wonjin just laughed at how fast you were talking and he didn’t forget to give the occasional side comments to reassure you that he was still the old, talkative, and witty ham wonjin that you didn’t have to act differently around. you knew in yourself that this was one of the things you missed badly.

the weight you felt in your chest turned lighter as every bit of misunderstanding cleared out. “...all that because i didn’t even stop to think that one morning. i’m sorry…”

he delayed his response for a while, suddenly making you worry that he had more to be upset about. but he eventually nodded and waved away any remaining tension. “apology accepted.” wonjin ruffled your hair just like you always did with his. “we’re good. but do you remember anything else?”

“except for the fact that i threw up on your shoes, no, i don’t remember doing anything else.”

“the shoes were one thing.” he scratched his head and talked in such a low volume and such high speed you couldn’t even comprehend what he was saying just to tease you. “but not even me telling you i liked you while you were all leaning on my shoulder at the bus and that whole speech i said about falling for you after i tucked you in?”

“what? you said what when i was tucked in?!” you leaned in to hear him, only catching remnants of what you suspected was a confession.

“ah, too bad. it was a one-time subscription, so you’d have to pay to hear it again.” he shrugged.

“you little- just tell me! it’s not like it��ll be any more embarrassing than me pouring out my stomach contents on the sidewalk for everyone to see.” you stepped forward wanting to hear more from him but he shook his head and refused to tell you anything further. the mischievous smile on his face as he paced around to avoid your probing weirdly made your heart beat faster. “fine. i was planning to tell you about something important but i guess you don’t want to hear it-”

“i don’t need to. i already know your apartment password is my birthday.” he stopped pacing and expectantly searched your face for confirmation despite not needing it. “right, y/n? 032201?” he repeated the numbers again and again just to coax a reaction out of you, his favorite thing to do.

“wh- what are you talking about?” holy-. if there were any more of this kind of surprises today, you didn’t know how much more of the shock you could take, but it seems like wonjin was enjoying just watching you all flustered. “i opened it myself-”

“y/n, you were too drunk to even see the keypad last night. when i tried my luck, we got in. 032201? who else could that be?”

you were about to protest but as you were stuttering your poorly-made excuses, wonjin took your hand and slowly pulled you into a tight hug, all the while laughing at how ridiculous each of your statements was starting to sound. after the initial embarrassment passed, you realized there really was really nothing to hide anymore.

“are you done?” wonjin asked, still not letting go of his hold on you which you returned willingly, hugging him tightly and hiding your face in his chest. “because to put it simply, i like you.”

you sighed in content, feeling all the exhaustion from the past few days seep out of you with just those three words. “i like you, too, ham wonjin.”

“and one more thing…” you added. “jungmo told me you were smitten.”

it was wonjin’s turn to get flustered and defensive, you pulled your face away and leaned back to watch as he cursed at jungmo for describing him in such a way. wonjin trailed off in his usual rants while you looked up at him with no plans of stopping his lovable nonsense.

opening day

it was noontime on opening day: the ribbons have been cut, your mini-opening show went smoothly, friends have visited and selected their favorite pieces, and most of all, you have led the toast that officially marked the start of this journey. it felt utterly surreal.

“all i can say is…” wonjin put his arm around you as you stood beside the racks of clothing you spent months perfecting. “it was certainly worth the hundreds of pinpricks.”

“well, then. if you want more…” you pinched his side and laughed as he dodged you and made his way to your three other friends who were also admiring the work they did for the shop.

a few nights ago, on a nighttime walk home in this same neighborhood, you wished for a perfect week to unfold in front of you. and maybe it did; just not in the way you anticipated, but exactly the way you wished it would end.

#cravitywriters #cravity scenarios #cravity imagines #cravity fluff #cravity angst #wonjin angst #wonjin fluff #ham wonjin #wonjin scenarios #wonjin imagines #cravity #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears. You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard. The best part? You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main. He might just love you.

alt summary. Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing. jeon jungkook

genre + rating. fluffy crack, smut. explicit.

warning / tags. long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish), eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch, oral (f receiving), fingering, enough sweetness you’ll get cavities.

reading. n/a. a three part one-shot.

word count. ~8400

part iii.

JUNGKOOK’S HOTEL ROOM Sunday, 3 May, 2020. 12:20 AM (LA), 4:20 PM (Seoul).

There’s nothing quite like the feeling after a show. How it crowds cavities behind his molars and sets his heart off on a marathon, exhilaration colouring his cheeks and stealing his voice. It’s something he’ll never get tired of - all the best parts of this journey presented on a silver platter.

Still, he thinks talking to you might be a close second.

“I can’t understand a single thing you’re saying,” you chide, playfully, with a mouthful of granola. It crunch crunch crunches in his ears, blocking the sound of his own laughter, ringing and half out of breath.

“I said I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy. Things have just been—” Crazy? Out of this world? Some kind of wonderful? “—hectic.” He all but throws himself across his bed, the luxurious hotel sheets soft against his still overheated cheek. It feels nice but steals the strength of his voice, muffling his words as he continues, like a runaway train with no destination in mind.

You laugh at him as you always do, mirth sprinkled over teasing like little treasures to be found among the vowels and consonants. “It’s fine , Jay.” The name - not his name - rolls off your tongue, dragged out by the giggles you can’t help. “I know you’re a busy guy. Don’t worry about it.”

Easier said than done, Jungkook thinks. You’ve been on his mind every day, in between the practices and the performances. A silhouette shaped like you - not that he knows how you’re shaped - existing in the recesses of his thoughts.

“Anyway, I finally stopped losing SR so it’s not all bad...”

He doesn’t register what you’re saying. Not at first, anyway. But when he does? He’s belligerent, the loudest shriek rocketing out of his chest as he dissolves into laughter. So you were a little bit better than him. “Hey!”

“Hey yourself, sandbag.”

Your mockery shouldn’t have the dumbest smile spreading like wildfire but it does, the expression eating up every ounce of his exhausted self. He can’t fight it, glee working itself every which way until he’s on his back, staring up at the ceiling as his jaw aches.

“You’re mean,” he manages in between the teeth-numbing joy, chest heaving.

He’s certain you don’t mean it the way he takes it. “And yet you love it.”

God, if only you knew.

He wants to tell you so badly - wants to shout it from the rooftops until he’s blue in the face and without a voice. He thinks he’d have a chance, maybe, if your passed secrets at midnight and tender goodnights were any indication.

But he can’t, because he’s him and you’re, well, you, and really, it’s just his fault.

“Did you die?” You steal him out of his reverie, tearing him wholly from inside that overthinking head of his. It’s one of the things you’re best at (other than keeping him alive in Overwatch).

He sighs and it’s a wistful sound, softer than any other that’s passed between you since getting on the phone fifteen minutes ago. “I’m good, yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure? I thought I might’ve lost you for a second.”

The playfulness has returned, rounding syllables in a way that’s very distinctly you.

“Yes, Mom .”

“Watch it or you’re grounded, young man!”

“Do you even know how old I am?” Probably not, because he doesn’t know that about you either.

For all of the secrets you’ve shared, these very basic pieces of information are ones you’ve never exchanged. They’ve always been held tightly to the chest, held hostage behind sharp gates of enamel. There was too much at stake when it came to these identifiers.

Sure, you’d told him about your greatest fear - losing one of your parents without being able to say goodbye - and sure, he’d told you his - not being good enough and letting the people he loves down even when he’s trying as hard as he can - but your ages? Where you grew up? Your real names? That was out of the question.

“Are you about to tell me you’re sixteen? Have I been friends with a high school student this whole time?” You’re chuckling at your own genius. He really doesn't think you’re that funny - low hanging fruit and all that - but he likes the way it sounds, curling out of your mouth like smoke.

“I’m actually twelve . Geez, get it right.”

You gasp, scandalized and as if you really believe him. It makes him choke on his own spit and he has to roll over onto his stomach, effectively trapping his phone between his chest and the bed as he struggles to regulate his breathing.

“I’ve always wanted a little brother!”

It’s a joke. Obviously , it’s a joke. He shouldn’t take it seriously.

And yet he’s fueled with the need to rebuff it, speaking before he has a chance to stop it, the words coming in a flurry. It’s a verbal snowstorm, locking the conversation in place - like Mei’s ultimate except he’s trapped in it, too. “I have something to tell you.” There’s no going back now.

For once, you’re not tearing holes in his confidence - not that you ever do with any sort of animosity. Your relationship was equal parts give and take, honey and vinegar coexisting in perfect harmony.

When Jungkook doesn’t immediately continue, you give him a little push. “Spit it out, Jay.”

“My name isn’t Jay.” A small, insecure part of him worries that that’s enough to shatter the careful friendship you’ve crafted. You - Jinny, the ineffable - remain surprisingly silent. He’s not sure whether that’s encouraging or disheartening. “I… haven’t really been honest with you.”

Already he can feel the nervous energy in his limbs, anxiety replacing the high he’d been on only an hour ago.

“I’m…” How does he start? “I’m not just… some guy.” Okay, that sounds bad. He’s backtracking. “I mean, I’m a guy. I’m normal.” This is going so poorly. His breath catches in his throat, teeth worrying incessantly over the soft cherry Chapsticked contour of his bottom lip. “I’m just not, y’know, your average guy. I’m actually like, uh...”

Jungkook has never stuttered this much in his entire goddamn life.

“My name’s Jeon Jungkook and I’m the golden maknae of Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

It comes in such a rush that you probably don’t hear it clearly. He’s introduced himself this same way for over half a decade and even it sounds strange to his ears.

When you don’t respond after what feels like an eternity, he’s left to his own devices, filling the silence with the erratic beating of his heart.

“Jinny?” It comes smaller than he means it to, uncertain and filled with hesitation. Still, nothing. He wants to toss himself off the 37th floor balcony so he doesn’t have to feel this way. “Can you say something?”

Your voice is far more measured than his own. You’re trying to be serious, he thinks. “I… kind of - sort of - already knew?”

Well, he hadn’t expected that.

“What?”

“I mean, the other members don’t exactly knock before they barge into your room screaming your name.” A beat. He can hear the laughter that’s threatening to knock your words into submission. “ And you posted a cover of a song I sent you.”

Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit .

That was definitely his fault. It’d just been so good - living in his head and in his heart rent-free. “ Never Not’s a good song!” He retorts, like that’s an appropriate rebuttal.

“I know, doofus.”

“You’re the doofus!”

The two of you were back, glazing over the revelation like it was nothing more than a little bump in the road.

“Thank you for telling me, though.” He imagines you’re smiling - can practically hear it in your voice. Somehow, it feels different. Sunnier than usual, blinding in its intensity. “I wasn’t sure if you ever would.”

“Would you have been mad if I didn’t?” Though he asks, he’s not sure if he’s ready for the answer.

“Of course not.”

“Really?”

You’re only a little exasperated when you reassure him. “Of course not. You’re still you - no matter what you do.”

Whatever best case scenario he’d imagined doesn’t hold a candle to this. He’s a million miles over the moon. You must be able to tell because he can hear you stifling sound, trails of laughter buzzing around in his ears like hummingbirds.

“So, what now?”

“What do you mean ‘what now’ ? Didn’t you hear what I just said?” There’s no venom in your words. “You’re still you, Jay.”

“It’s Jungkook.” There’s that unabashed need to hear his name. He hopes it isn’t too obvious.

“I know but that’s gonna be hard to get used to.”

“Is your real name Jinny?” He’s always wondered.

“It’s Yoojin. Jinny’s just my nickname.”

“Well, Jinny—” He says it dragged out and silly. “—want to come to one of our shows?”

“I live in Seoul.”

“So what?”

The second time sounds exactly like the first. He snorts. “I live in Seoul .”

"I’ll fly you to Osaka.”

It’s the first time he��s heard you genuinely shocked. It strips the usual mischief from your tone, draping it in lily white and baby’s breath. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” He doesn’t think he’s wanted anything more. At least, not in a very long time.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

It sounds better than he could have ever imagined.

KYOCERA DOME OSAKA Thursday, 23 July, 2020. 10 PM.

Does he smell bad? Should he have showered first? Would you be grossed out?

These are all the thoughts running through his mind, chasing themselves in circles like a dog after its own tail. They revolve in a neverending merry-go-round, creasing worry into his brow and dropping his mouth into a little O-shaped pout.

“You ready, Jungkookie?” Jimin’s doing what he does best - draping himself across his maknae’s shoulders without a care in the world.

“Are you nervous?” Hobi’s swiping through his phone, dark hair a stylishly dishevelled mess around his angelic face. He’s still got traces of makeup around his eyes and his clip-on earrings glint under fluorescent light.

A hand lands hard on his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle in a way that’s meant to be reassuring. “Of course he is.” Namjoon can read him like a book, shooting Jungkook his signature smile in the same instance he receives one.

“I’m not nervous!” The youngest chirps in a voice that warbles like a baby bird.

Everyone laughs at that and he can feel his ears burning around the edge of his baseball cap. It creeps over the shell and down his neck, descending blossoms of colour into the collar of his shirt.

“Shouldn’t you get going?” It’s Yoongi that reminds him of the time, the rapper only barely cracking an eye open as he taps the face of his steel-cased Audemars Piguet. He’s right.

Jungkook jolts out of his seat, scrambling to his feet - all four thousand dollars of his designer boots - and nearly knocks Jimin off the back of the couch he’d been precariously balanced on. The overeager bunny shouts an apology that’s lost amongst even louder laughter as he tears out of the room.

He’s going to be late .

He doesn’t think he’s ever ran so fast in his life - darting past bicycling seniors and tourists with all the grace of a boy in love. He somehow manages to find the entrance of the BIC CAMERA store without much hassle, rooting himself just left of the door when his phone screen registers 10:30 PM.

A little triumphant whoop! presses into the sponge-like material of his facemask in the same moment he catches sight of a waving hand.

He’s not sure whether it’s the mask or the sight of you that’s making it hard to breathe.

“Hi.” You sound exactly like you always have and yet six months of hearing your voice somehow doesn't prepare him for it. It hits him like a ton of bricks, crashing his resolve into the soles of his feet. There’s something about you that makes him squint - like staring directly at the sun. His heart stutters in his chest. He thinks, dimly, he can hear bells in the distance. It’s probably from a food stall, but he doesn’t care.

It’s the first meeting he’s always dreamed of, wrapped up in an adorable pink Cooky headband.

He’s scooping you into his arms before he can think better of it, twirling you around like the princess you are. It probably isn’t appropriate - you’ve only just met - but he can’t resist. You feel so good in his arms, weightless and yet entirely grounding.

The fact that you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck, easily reciprocating his onslaught of affection, doesn't go unnoticed. He tucks away this knowledge into the sleeve of his shirt for safekeeping.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, though he doesn’t sound very sorry at all. You’re back on your two feet, black military boots of your own on solid ground once again.

Standing so close, he can smell your perfume. Its notes of vanilla and cola and something powdery, reminiscent of babies and home. You’re smaller than he imagined, with narrow shoulders and wide hips. Like him, you look to be about 95% leg, faded blue denim hugging your thighs and falling loosely around the tops of your Doc Martens. Your top is long-sleeved but semi-sheer and he can make out what he thinks are inkings over your skin, little trails in greyscale and colour that draw his stare.

Stop being weird , he tells himself when he finally manages to refocus, tearing his gaze from the jasmine branches that traverse your limbs and training it on your eyes instead.

Bad idea, Jungkook.

He’s lost in the colour of your irises - an impossibly dark brown that twinkles under the awning lights - and the heart-shaped turn of your jaw. He’s all too distracted by the high contours of your cheeks, the turn of your button nose, the dusty pink that fills the shape of your mouth and fades prettily against your skin.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” The way your lips move should be a chargeable offence. They coax into a smirk that’s equal parts soft and vexing, singular dimple presenting itself with the motion.

God, he’s so in over his head. He can feel it in his bones.

So he laughs - because that’s what he does when he’s unnerved - and the sound is a pack of hyenas. It’s Lion King on Broadway, sweeping above the already boisterous cacophony of the entertainment district.

“Your laugh is even better in person.” You’ve said better and not worse and even though he’s a little self-conscious - a decidedly not Jungkook-like thing to be - he preens from the praise.

“Yeah?” Can you see the hearts in his eyes? He imagines they’ve replaced his pupils.

“Yeah. But don’t let that get to your head, mister.”

“Already has - sorry.”

You laugh in sync and it’s music to his ears - the prettiest sound he’s ever heard.

The two of you fall into your routine in a way that feels effortless, the back and forth banter rivalling that of best friends.

You tease him mercilessly, picking up on all his little idiosyncrasies - how he stands at stop lights, pigeon-toed and adorable; how he jams his hands into the back pocket of his jeans in tandem with the tips of his ears burning bright red; how his laugh sometimes trips over itself and splinters like a kid going through puberty. He doesn’t mind any of it, truthfully, because it means you’re paying attention to him just as much as he is you.

Because he sees all of your little habits too - watches them unfold before his eyes in technicolour. You bite your own lip when you think you’ve said something particularly funny. You wiggle your head on your shoulders like a bobblehead when he says something snappy, equally biting remarks softened by the way you bob up and down. You don’t step on cracks, even if it means you’re straining those strangely long legs of yours to carry yourself a few inches further.

You don’t have any patience - something he’s known since the beginning - but that he realizes with a front row seat when you’re shoving a takoyaki into his face. There’s steam curling off it and the smell is intoxicating but he can practically feel the roof of his mouth burning when you’re relentlessly offering it to him. You’re not even deterred by the fact that he’s got a facemask on.

“Open up!”

Jungkook wants to say no - should say no, for the sake of his own health - but he accepts it anyway.

It sears white hot pain the moment it lands on his tongue, teeth buzzing uncomfortably as he bites into the dough. He’s sucking air in through his teeth, the cold barely doing anything to alleviate the sting. He probably looks stupid as hell.

Of course, you’re laughing at him, lips curled in on themselves as you try to choke back the sound.

“Too hot?” You coo, feigning surprise. You do feel a little bad - he can see it in the flex of your jaw, how your bamboo stick-wielding hand lingers in the space between you. “My bad.”

He chews once, twice - tries to keep it to a minimum because holy shit , does it hurt - before swallowing. It burns on the way down. “You eat one now.” He’s pushing the tray towards you, long fingers curled around yours as he all but tries to make you face plant into the plate.

“I don’t like squid,” you deadpan, lying through those neat white teeth of yours. You’d literally made takoyaki at home a few weeks ago. He’d dared you to put an entire wasabi ball into one and you’d done it.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up!”

So it goes for the rest of the night, trading insults over street food. You share an ice cream-filled melon pan - well, he orders one and you eat all of it but a bite - and you scroll through your phone as he inhales a bowl of ramen. He catches you taking a picture of him when he’s halfway through slurping noodles into his mouth like a Hoover. You look a little sheepish when he swallows and levels you with a look that screams unimpressed.

“Is this okay?” You’re a little uncertain and it’s the cutest thing he’s seen all night, teeth catching your bottom lip. He wonders, briefly, what it’d be like to do that to you instead.

You beam when he reassures you. “Of course.”

“I won’t post it anywhere.”

He wants to tell you that’s okay, too, but he knows he shouldn’t. Instead, he simply returns your smile and goes about finishing his bowl of broth. You take a few more photos - of his face when he’s full-belied and satisfied, of the street where people mingle and mix, of the stupidly big moving crab sign across the way.

He wonders if you can feel it too - the connection that crackles between you like a livewire.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you return your attention to him in the same instant he’s glossing over the shape of your lips, the turn of your nose. “I’ll pay you back.”

Before he realizes what’s happening, your hand is on his. You don’t do very much, simply allowing your palm to rest over his, fingers curled around the seam of his thumb. It’s so much smaller - complete with neatly manicured lilac nails - that he stares down at it for a beat too long.

You start to pull away - he sees it happening almost in slow motion - when he flips his own, catching your wrist in his grasp. “No need,” he mumbles, not quite looking at you. He’s still too focused on the way your hands fit together like two puzzle pieces.

“We’ll see about that,” you return, equally as soft.

Everything feels a little fuzzy, like you’re wrapped up in cotton candy and cloud nine.

You must feel it too.

But then you’re standing and you’re not holding his hand any longer and he thinks maybe he’s imagining it all over again. It leaves him heartsick, reaching for your figure that’s already too far away.

“We should head back - I have an early flight tomorrow.”

Damn him and his poor planning skills. He should’ve booked you something later in the day. Why had he thought the 9 AM departure was the best idea?

“Right.” He lifts himself off of the wooden bench, returning his facemask to its rightful place as he closes the distance between you in four easy strides. He tries to ignore the way you smile at him when you’re back together, matching pace through the somehow still-packed streets.

There’s no playful ribbing now. The schoolyard mockery is replaced with a comfortable silence that sinks into his bones and brushes his hand against yours every time you have to squeeze past a gaggle of people that just won’t move. It’s familiar without being boring, satisfying the big fat crush that lives in his heart.

It settles even further when you do the same, head gentle against the curve of his shoulder.

“Did you have fun?” He finally asks when the familiar silhouette of the Conrad Hotel comes into view, your driver rolling to a complete stop right in front of the impressive glass structure.

You hum something that sounds like yes as he pays and thanks the driver in the softest Japanese before he ushers you out of the back of the cab. You’re smiling at him, heavy-lidded and with a tenderness he doesn’t expect. You must be tired.

“More than I’ve ever had.” There’s a certain truth to your words, whether it’s from your sleepy state or something else. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to,” he reminds you, guiding you past the concierge with a palm on the small of your back. It’s intimate in a way he’s not really sure is appropriate but you don’t seem to mind, all too happy to be herded around like a baby duckling.

“Stop saying that.” There’s no weight behind your words - only sandman’s dust and starry-eyed affection. Jungkook’s heart plays a staccato rhythm in his chest as he steps into the lift behind you, crowded against the far right wall. Mozart would be proud.

Trapped in the small six by six area, his breath seems too loud. The roar of his pulse in his ears is deafening. He barely hears his own words when they stumble out of their own accord.

“I like you.”

Your laugh is the sweetest he’s ever heard. “I know.”

“You do?” He rounds on you in the same breath, your body mirroring his subconsciously.

“Of course I do.” You’re so confident he absorbs a little bit of it, stepping closer when you do. “I’m your safe place - and you’re mine, too.”

His hands are shaking when they crowd your face, thumbs gentle over the jut of your chin. “Can I kiss you?” Spoken like a child asking for a Christmas gift, full of wonder and hope.

“Hm.” The vibration of your sigh is felt through his fingers all the way down to his toes.

He decides for you, closing the distance with a roll of his shoulders.

Kissing you is unlike anything he could’ve ever imagined. It’s better than his wildest dreams. It’s soft and sweet and done with the utmost care, like you’ll break if he isn’t careful. You taste as good as you smell - the citrusy tang of your lip gloss reminding him of Lotte World lemonade and picnics on the Han River.

“I’m sorry.” It’s an unnecessary apology that gets lost against your lips - because he isn’t quite ready to let go of you yet. “I couldn’t help it.”

“You’re forgiven, I guess .”

When you speak, it’s kissing in its most basic form, mouth brushing over his with each enunciation. He wonders what it’d be like to have you sing a song for him like this. He decides he wants to find out as soon as possible. Needs it like he needs air - or more of you. Either or.

“Thanks.”

You laugh together and kiss again and again, repeating the motion like overeager high school students behind the bleachers. He grazes your forehead, pressing sweetness into the tops of your eyelids and you return the favour, sweeping delight over the sharp turn of his jaw and over skin not hidden by the collar of his button-down.

You’re so involved that you hardly notice when the lift doors slide open, revealing the empty hallway of the 33rd floor. You break away first, though it’s not without some resistance - both his and yours. He wants to keep you here with him as long as he can, because it feels like where you belong .

“I’ll see you.” A last kiss - lingering, longing, littered with words neither of you say.

And then you’re gone.

JINNY’S APARTMENT Saturday, 5 September, 2020. 2:45 PM.

You live in a nondescript apartment in a nondescript neighbourhood with trimmed hedges and a crisp white exterior. There’s a doormat - grey, a little frayed at the edges, polka-dotted - and nothing else. No sign on your door, just the number 134 stamped on the right-hand side, half a foot away from the window that looks into the open-air hallway.

You answer the door on the first knock, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like you’d been lingering just behind the frame, waiting for his arrival. Your hair’s shiny and freshly washed, damp at the ends where you haven’t wicked all the moisture away. You look comfortable - if not a little overexcited - bouncing from sock-clad foot to sock-clad foot in your low slung sweatpants and oversized tee shirt. He can see half a dozen plants just behind your bobbing head, his gaze bouncing between pretty ceramic and terracotta pots.

“I half expected you to live in a PC bang,” Jungkook states, drole and with that trademark grin of his, nose scrunched and eyes waning.

You counter him easily. “You haven’t even been inside. Maybe it’s all a front.”

He snickers at the thought, stepping over the threshold once you’ve taken a step back. It smells like cinnamon and sugar - he wonders if you’ve been baking - and he peers curiously around the apartment.

“It’s a candle,” you supply before he has a chance to ask, reading the question in his stare.

“You mean you didn’t bake me a cake?”

You offer an extended scoff in place of an answer, rolling your eyes as he unlaces his boots. “What for? Your birthday’s already passed.”

“It might not have.”

“It literally has. I know your birthday.”

Right. Because he’s him and that’s sort of common knowledge.

He chuckles to himself as he sets his boots aside, right beside where yours sit, near identical. He doesn’t need to say anything when he hears you sniff, Rilakkuma-tipped sock nudging his hand away from where it threatens to upend the piece of footwear.

“I had them before I met you.”

“Right.” It’s too easy to tease you - just as it’s too easy to rib him. This is how the two of you are. Schoolchildren with big crushes and near zero emotional maturity.

“Do you want a tour or are you just gonna be some weirdo with a foot fetish?”

He meets your stare then, both of your expressions ice cold. If looks could kill .

You crack before he does, though your laughter melds together like a perfect harmony, ricocheting off the art-covered walls.

“Fine, fine. Show me around.”

So you do - with gusto and great pride. It rolls off you in waves, tangible in the cascade of your hair over your shoulder and the way you beam up at him. You’re like a kid at show-and-tell.

You guide him into the living area - a small space with a comfortable, worn-in grey couch and probably more throw pillows and blankets than is strictly speaking necessary. There are framed pieces on the wall and it’s the contents that surprise him. There’s Mercy playing pool, bent over the table in a revealing Playboy bunny one piece; there’s D.Va in a hoodie and little else, bottles of soju littering both the back and foreground.

Where the walls are bare, there’s other stuff taking up the space. Artfully positioned floating shelves house succulents and cacti. A well-cared for Monstera sits in a far corner, taking up more space than it probably should. Nestled among its soil are little Animal Crossing Amiibos - Cyrus and Reese, to be exact. There’s an all-white cabinet with a glass front and some of the most random stuff he’s ever seen: limited edition Gunpla, a Taiko Drum, and your framed university degree (for accounting, to his great surprise).

“Is that a Widow bobblehead?” He spies it last, sitting on the cabinet that houses an impressive array of gaming consoles. You even have a VR headset, the cords neatly looped together and tucked away beside a maneki neko-shaped piggy bank.

“Maybe.”

“You really are a dork.”

“Says the bigger dork? Really?”

He could dispute that - easily - but he doesn’t, instead shrugging it off as he flops onto the couch, feet immediately kicking themselves up.

“What’re you doing?” You join him even as you ask. He’s a little disappointed by the polite amount of space you leave - just enough that you’re not touching.

“I’m tired.”

“I haven’t finished the tour.”

“Tour schmore .”

You scowl at him and it’s so charming that he wishes you were just a little closer. He’d kiss that look right off your face if it were up to him.

“What do you want to do then?” Where the stuffed animal comes from, he’s not sure. It’s more than a little ratty, soft brown fur faded from what looks like years and years of love. You hold it tight, clutched to your chest as you recline against the far arm.

“Watch the Runaway and Lunatic-Hai show matches?”

You level him with a look that very much tells him he is the bigger nerd. He doesn’t mind, though. He’s been wanting to watch these matches for months since it was first announced.

Unfortunately, you’d promised each other you’d only watch it together, so really, this was your fault.

You must suddenly remember that, because you’re biting back the words he’s sure were about to tear into him, swallowing them whole as you grab your PS4 controller and begin silently navigating through YouTube. He smiles, a little triumphant thing he knows you can see from the corner of your eye.

“Happy?” Resentment mixes with excitement as you return your controller to its rightful home and settle yourself once more against the too-many pillows.

“No.” Jungkook worries for your neck when you whip to look at him, brow furrowed and mouth blown out in a pout.

“Why not?”

He memorizes the way you look right now, framed against sunlight that spills through your windows and hugging what he assumes is your childhood teddy bear. It’s an immediate serotonin boost.

“Because you’re all the way over there.” He sighs, long and loud, head swinging in a dramatic semi-circle. He can hear you snickering despite yourself - could pick it out in a crowd of thousands, he thinks - and suddenly you’re beside him, distance closed in a heartbeat.

With you so close, it’s hard to think, his thoughts jumbled and tripping over themselves.

“Better?” You must know the effect you have on him, because you’re batting those goddamn eyelashes up at him, mouth dancing around his favourite sound in the world.

“Much,” he hums, unashamed.

“Welcome home, Kook.” The way you say it sparks fireworks in his chest. He knows you mean home as in the city of Seoul, but it feels like more and he likes that - just like how he likes you and this little piece of normalcy.

It feels good to be here with you, seemingly without a care in the world.

It’s distinctly different from anything he’s used to - even better than the long hours spent bonding on the internet. There’s no worry here, no nagging in the back of his mind, no concern that one of his hyungs will burst into his room. It’s just you and him and commentary on his favourite game.

That is, until it’s just him and commentary on his favourite game. He’d lost you somewhere along the way, roughly three hours in. He hadn’t noticed at first, far too focused on the big brain plays unravelling across the screen, but when you started snoring, he knew.

You just snored so damn loudly.

“Jinny.” He feels bad when he has to rouse you, the feeling in his right leg but a distant memory.

You don’t move. He wonders when the last time you slept was.

“Jinny,” he repeats himself, a little louder this time. There’s the beginning of stirrings, your head drifting from its position on his shoulder to nestle into the crease of the couch cushions. “Do you want me to take you to bed?”

It doesn’t immediately dawn on Jungkook how that sounds.

“Wouldn’t you like that,” you mumble into the woven fabric, half-asleep.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You’re doing that thing you do when you’re impressed with yourself, teeth littering your bottom lip with indentations. It’s more distracting than it should be, paired with those bedroom eyes he’s not certain you’re in control of.

Get it together , he scolds himself. In his mind, the angel powerbombs the devil into submission.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“No! Not yet.” You’re waving a boneless wrist in his direction, like you’re swatting away an irksome fly. It’s cute, in a frazzled sort of way.

“You want to sleep out here?” He knows you don’t - you’ve complained about it enough times when you wake up with kinks in your neck and soreness in your back.

“No!” A huff puffs out your cheeks, blows your grown-out bangs away from your face. You’re sitting up now, slowly but surely. There are creases all over your face - an ode to the couch. He has to keep from laughing right at you - bites it back with a bitten tongue when you sniff and card a hand over through your hair. “I have a gift for you.”

You say it so sweetly, he can’t help himself.

“Is it you?”

He’s honestly not sure what to expect once he’s spoken. He half thinks you’ll laugh, shove him away from you with a giggle and a roll of your eyes. He hopes you won’t, though - can feel every fibre of his being strung tight with anticipation and hope and the request of please, love me .

“Do you want it to be?” You’re looking at him with the strangest expression. He can’t read it at all, despite how easily he normally does. It’s white noise, static on a television screen.

Uncertainty grips him. “I do.”

“Then I’m yours.”

It’s music to his ears - the key to his heart. It strips away the doubt, turning it on its head.

He finally does what he’s wanted to for the past four hours.

When he kisses you this time, it’s different. It’s urgent but not rushed; he takes his time in exploring the softness of your lips, how they fall open under his careful ministrations. His mouth slants, coaxes you to give everything to him as his tongue passes tentatively over yours. You taste like lemons again - and a touch of honey.

It’s intoxicating and addictive and he chases the high it gives him, large hands finding purchase against the back of your head and the slope of your jaw. Fingers thread through your hair - gentle at first, then with more purpose. He maneuvers you how he needs you and peppers kisses everywhere he can reach. Your eyelids, your nose, your neck.

When he ghosts his mouth across your shoulder - mouthing hot over the soft cotton of your shirt - and finds that particular point where your pulse beats, you gasp.

He’d thought your laugh was his favourite sound but he realizes now how wrong he was.

“Do that again.” You say it together, in perfect sync.

Laughter blooms between you and he muffles his against your throat, nosing over where your perfume lingers most. He inhales once, twice, and holds you somehow closer, all but dragging you into his lap. “You’re my dream girl, you know that?” The words are surprisingly sweet, given the compromising position you’re currently in.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You thread your fingers just as he has, twirling through his just-on-the-right-side-of-too-long strands.

He moves to pull away, a scoff building in his throat, but you’re having none of it, capturing his lips the moment he’s made up his mind. You really could read him like a book. He wonders what you’re thinking now, starts running through possibilities when you bite down just so on his pouting bottom lip.

A not-so-subtle hint to get out of his own head.

“Stop thinking,” you hum, lending your voice to his thoughts.

“Sorry,” he returns in kind, tracing an apologetic tongue over the seam of your lips.

“Show me how sorry.”

You sound positively sinful and while it isn’t the answer he’d expected, it stirs something within him - from his chest to somewhere decidedly further south. He stifles a moan, caging it behind bared teeth as he becomes suddenly far too aware of how you’re making him feel.

“You’re playing with fire, baby.” The pet name rolls off his tongue like it was made for you.

“It’s fine - I have self-healing.”

It’s so fucking dorky but somehow, even that makes Jungkook groan. “Seriously - dream girl.”

And then he’s kissing you again and again, a devoted parishioner of your church. They’re this-side of innocent at first, little pecks that dot every sliver of available flesh. His hands roam in tandem with his mouth, flitting beneath the cropped hem of your top before gliding greedily across the tops of your thighs.

“Can I get the rest of the tour now?” He looks like the devil himself, all dishevelled dark hair and that heart-wrenching, lopsided smile.

You’re impatient though - always have been. “Straight down the hall. Last door to the left.”

It’s all he needs to know before he’s on his feet, rising with you as if you were featherlight. Your ankles lock around his waist, clinging to him like the cutest koala he’s ever seen. He doesn’t look away - frankly, can’t – as he follows your directions, gaze trained on your eyes and your lips and the column of your throat he wants to see blooming with roses.

“I’m crazy about you,” he announces, suddenly, as he nudges open your bedroom door.

“I know.” You say it a lot. He wonders if you really know.

By the way you kiss him, he thinks you might have an idea. It’s not enough, though. He wants to show you - needs to show you.

You allow yourself to be tossed upon your bed - soft grey sheets, no stuffed animals in sight, too many pillows again - and he hovers above you, curious. “Are you sure you know?” The question is punctuated by the drop of his knee, cotton of his black joggers a stark contrast to the soft linens.

You’re not sure if this is a game - he can read the question swimming in your eyes. “Maybe?” You’re upspeaking, which is something you never do. It’s disarming in a way that makes him want to hear it again, but with his name over and over.

“Maybe?” He echoes, brow quirked and mouth twisted into an expression that starts butterflies in your stomach. It’s like a switch has flipped. For the first time, he’s the heartthrob you’ve seen on stage, the one fansites rave about with fervour. A force to be reckoned with . “Let me make it clear then?”

It’s spoken like a question, though it begs no answer. You’d give him anything he wanted.

“Can I?” You don’t think you have it in you to respond - not when he’s looking at you the way he is, from behind dark lashes and with the most charming smile you’ve ever seen. But he needs an answer - won’t go further until he has one.

“Yes,” you breathe in a voice that doesn’t quite sound like your own, far too airy and mellifluous.

He looks like a kid who’s had his heart’s greatest wish granted. There’s unbridled joy spilling into every crevice, streaming out of every pore as he lowers himself onto the bed. You’re trapped beneath him - knees situated comfortably on either side of your legs - when his hands find the shorn hem of your shirt, tugging gently at the offending article of clothing.

“Off,” he says simply. It’s gone before you can think twice. Your sweatpants and socks follow in quick succession - he snorts a laugh when he has to tug your socks off by the ears on either side of your ankles - until you’re left in only black cotton that covers hardly anything at all.

Jungkook sighs a sound that shoots straight into the belly of the beast, sparking warmth in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He sees the uncertainty in your eyes, hands reaching to cover the places you’ve been self-conscious about since you were old enough to understand what bullying was. The modest swell of your chest, the tiger stripes along your hips.

Words are fitted with motion, hands of his own sweeping your arms away from your body. Long fingers curl easily around the dainty turn of your wrist. “Please don’t hide from me.”

You can’t deny him when he asks so nicely.

“Tell me about these?” He means your tattoos, of course. They’re intricate works of art that span nearly a quarter of your flesh, painting grayscale and colour over cream. There’s the jasmine he’d spotted the night you met, coiled around your left forearm and up to your bicep in stark ink. Across your stomach, from the top of your right thigh and over your ribs, are intricate peonies in shades of pink and red and green. Everywhere lines bloom, etched forever into your skin, his mouth follows. He can’t ingrain himself in the same ways but he tries, searing devotion in the form of kisses.

It tickles when he ghosts over your ribs with both tongue and teeth and it’s absolutely indescribable when he catches your nipple between enamel.

You make that sweet sound he so loves - a heady mix between a gasp and a moan - and he repeats the motion. You hardly realize he’s speaking when he does it for the third time and adds nimble fingers to pinch and pull the other into the same pebbled state.

“ Tell me.” He sounds like he’s laughing, trapped halfway down your body with his cheek pressed to the modest swell of your chest.

You’re not sure how you get the words out. “My mom’s a big gardener. She calls me her flower.”

“Her flower, huh?” The question is muffled among your humble cleavage.

“Did I stutter?” That earns you a sharp tweak to your nipple, the pain shooting pleasure through your limbs in a very unexpected way. You’ve never been one for pain but the sight of Jungkook staring up at you, head cocked and hands full - well, there’s a first time for everything.

“You want to be nicer to me,” he states solemnly, like he’s commenting on the weather or the 6 o’clock news and not palming your tits in his much larger hands and drawing out the sweetest murmurs of encouragement.

“I am nice to you,” you retort - or try to at least. You hardly get it out before it’s chased out by another one of those lovely sounds that Jungkook seems to be obsessed with.

“ Nicer , baby.”

As if to drive his point home, he straightens out, face suddenly dangerously close. He crowds you with his entire frame, mouth finding yours easily. It’s not the same sort of kisses you’ve shared all evening; it’s a display of dominance, a reminder that articulates more than he can say.

It’s also a distraction, you realize belatedly, with a gasp tearing its way out of your throat.

Capable hands have found their mark, digits sweeping beneath the seam of your thong. He lingers just shy of where you desperately want him, expertly trailing featherlight touches through your folds. He never goes further - doesn’t stretch where you need him most. He’s careful not to brush your clit, focusing instead on the way you’re coating his fingers.

The shit-eating grin never leaves his lips - which never leave your mouth. He swallows your whines in the same instant he’s pulling them forth, playing you like a fiddle without even really doing anything.

“Can you do that for me?” He coos against your neck, that damned voice of his dripping liquid gold into your ears.

You have to focus hard on what he’s saying because his touch is so distracting. “What?”

“I said—” It stings where his mouth connects, where his teeth nip and spill wine over porcelain. He’s painting the prettiest pictures, signing his name in the form of broken capillaries. “—can you be nice to me?”

You’d like to respond - really, you would - but he punctuates the question with the glide of his finger and you can’t do anything but arch into the sudden intrusion. It feels so good and yet isn’t nearly enough.

“Kook.” You’ve never sounded this whiny in your life. Even his name - one single syllable - hardly makes it past your lips without descending into a cry.

“Use your words , angel.”

If every nerve ending didn’t feel like it was on fire, you might’ve yelled at him. Instead, you can hardly form a coherent thought. You’re too far gone, standing on the edge of a cliff as he teases you open with slow, measured pumps of his wrist.

“I need—” He’s crooking the single digit within you, right against that spot that makes you see stars.

“What do you need? Ask nicely.”

“M-more. I need m-more .” A hiccup. “Please.”

“Like this?” You’re empty all at once and then suddenly far more full, the stretch of two fingers stealing the breath from your throat. “Or like this?” The pad of his thumb finds your clit with ease, sweeping over the sensitive bundle of nerves once, twice, three times. “Maybe like this?”

He repeats his earlier movements, curling his knuckles in a come hither motion that has you sobbing out his name.

“That’s right.” Ever the gentleman, he works you through your high, watching your face in rapt fascination as your first orgasm of the night crests and crashes over you, sending shockwaves through your system. He admires the way your mouth falls open - full lips rounding in delight - and how your eyes screw shut.

You’re the hottest thing Jeon Jungkook has ever seen.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your temple, never ceasing the slow drag of his fingers, the carefully measured flick of his thumb. Even when you’re trembling with oversensitivity, he doesn’t relent, choosing instead to reposition.

His weight is gone as he settles between your legs, knees folded beneath him. He only pauses his needy actions - almost doesn’t, when your hips roll in an apparent attempt to draw him back in - to strip you of your thong, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder.

“Give me another, okay?”

You aren’t given a chance to answer before he slips two fingers back where they belong and seals his mouth over your clit. The coil he’d snapped earlier returns, tension increased tenfold as he alternates between sucking hard and licking, dragging his tongue over and around his fingers. There’s too much stimulation. You’re obscenely wet and you’re certain you’d be making a mess, if not for the careful way Jungkook’s devouring you whole, licking up every bit of slick.

“Kook. Jungkook .” His name sounds like heaven coming off your lips. He replays it over and over in his head as he fucks his fingers into you, tapping a brutal rhythm against your g-spot. He can tell you’re close again - can read it in the way your jaw tenses and your breathing goes erratic, lungs heaving.

“Come on, baby. Let go.” The second orgasm hits harder, arching your back off the mattress as you fight to keep your knees from snapping shut. You come with a hoarse cry, legs trembling like a leaf with the effort. “That’s my girl.”

He’s upon you again, this time crowding your space as he settles all one hundred and fifty pounds of himself beside you. He anchors you in reality, preventing your boneless body from floating off by pulling you against his chest.

“You did so good.”

You accept his kisses readily, somehow managing to thread your arm around his neck despite the fact that you feel like you’ve just run a marathon.

Being wrapped up in his embrace is like being home - warm and familiar.

“I want you.”

He laughs and you can hear the sound rattling around in his chest. “You’ve got me.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You sound a little petulant, like a child being denied their favourite toy.

“I know what you meant,” he retorts, squeezing your bare hip affectionately. “But you’re also exhausted, so get some sleep. Patience is key, remember?”

You pout up at him with your messy bedhead and sleepy eyes and he almost gives in right then and there. It’s nearly impossible not to, especially when you drag your hip across his, your ankle hooking his in a bid to bring the two of you somehow closer.

He doesn’t expect you to relent so easily but your yawn outs you, forcing itself past the cage you’re trying - and failing - to keep closed. “Fine.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You better be.” It’s an empty threat - you both know he won’t leave. “I still have to give you your present, anyway.”

He feigns surprise then, snickering quietly. “You mean it wasn’t you?”

You don’t have the energy to yell at him, so instead you dig your bony fingers into the vulnerable underside of his ribs. He squirms away from the feeling but never really goes far.

“It’s a Mercy bobblehead, you butt.” You yawn again, shiver running the length of your spine as you snuggle more closely against his side once more. Jungkook tugs your duvet up around your shoulders, tucking you in tightly. The action reminds you of why you’d bought the gift in the first place. “I think you might actually be my guardian angel.”

notes. the end of an era (and by era, i mean a fic). this honestly turned out to be my baby, so i sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it. i'll likely do some drabbles in the future, because i really, really adore this couple. as always, let me know your thoughts. xo

tag list. @letmebeyour-sun @teawithbucky

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honeypirate · 3 years

Text

Kunikida Doppo x Fem!Reader

5495 words. I went hard for this guys.

I took Ango’s ability for the reader because I like it and so this is now an AU where the reader has the Discourse on Decadence ability and takes memories from objects touched.

I know they don’t all live together but they do in this fic haha at least Kunikida, Dazai, and you are roommates although you’re hardly ever there together. Half of the time Dazai doesn't even sleep there. You’re the only one that really frequents, if you didn't all share rent you would assume you lived there alone save for late night run ins in the kitchen and bathroom.

Warning: a couple swears.

Being in love with a man who was meticulous for following perfect schedules and plans was fine, you loved the structure and appreciated the consistency, but what really hurt, what really felt like your heart was ripped from your body with Akutagawa’s gift, was the fact that he had 58 conditions which he required for a spouse, and you only had 53 of them. You knew you failed his test, failed the expectations he had for a partner, and that someone as meticulous as him would never change his ways for someone who wasn’t above and beyond perfect when it came to those 58 ideals, but damn, you came so close, and that stung like a bitch.

You had asked him one day what they were, out of curiosity when it naturally came up from Dazai teasing him about it, he showed you it with pleasure, and you noted mentally the boxes you filled, your heart cracking into more pieces with every box you didnt fill. 5, 5 things about you that are failures. You couldn't help but hate the number.

You appeared at the door at 8am, right on the dot, the moment you were scheduled to be there and not a minute sooner or later. He really did like that about you, the fact that he never had to doubt you, he trusted that you always were where he scheduled you, you were the only one on the team that followed his orders to the T. “let’s go y/n we have to investigate a murder and your gift will really help” you nod with a smile “ready when you are”

“Why did you want to join the detective agency?” he asks, he wasn't a huge part of your entrance exam and missed the questioning part Dazai did. You sigh as you think, remembering the day you joined 7 months ago, clasping your hands behind your back as you walk, “at first it was because I wanted to rebel, my parents wanted me to hide my gift and act like their perfect child, I dropped out of college and decided to train my gift, ultimately leading me to you guys. After I learned about how other gifteds are using their powers to help people I realized that I was using my gift poorly. I felt an overwhelming need to protect others, to protect my city, if i have this gift and shirk the responsibility it comes with, then it is just as much my fault if innocents die when I could have been the one to help them”

He’s quiet for a while before he speaks again “that is admirable” is all he says before you get to your destination. If he was being honest, your answer was inspiring and he knows he would be writing it down in his notes later.

You do your investigating, using the memories from the objects on the scene to find the culprit easily, finishing the job quicker than he had planned leaving you with approximately 14 minutes to spare in the schedule. As he finishes writing down some notes you appear beside him “we have like 12-13 minutes left in your schedule so i got us some roasted bonito. I didn’t see you eat like you normally do so i figured..” you shrug and hand him the food you bought him. He takes it from your gloved hand silently, his gaze piercing and prudent, but his heart was racing, you were so kind and always looked out for him. He appreciated your care but didn’t know how to react to it. “Efficient because we can eat it on our way back. Finishing early is always nice, I love the free moments where my mind is able to relax and process things.” You say and He watches you take a bite and hum softly as you appreciate the flavor. He makes a mental note to schedule in an extra 2-3 minutes on missions he goes on with you just so he can give you a second to breathe if you need it.

You get back to the office with a few extra minutes to spare, you head to your desk to fill out paperwork and he watches you go, wondering why his heart seems to beat harder now that you left him. “Oooh does someone have a crush” Dazai says quietly as he teases Kunikida “I don’t know what you’re talking about. She is my coworker and besides,” “she lacks 5 of your spousal requirements yeah yeah. Maybe you're just a little too uptight with those 5, has anyone ever even gotten that close before?” Dazai looks at him with a smirk and Kunikida just walks off mumbling something about paperwork.

The rest of the day went by as all of the rest seemed to, slow and filled with paperwork and sometimes smaller missions, you didn't mind though, in the office you had a straight line to watch Kunikida, and on missions you were helping people. You didn’t mind slow days, it meant no one was dying.

You decided to break your routine, deciding to treat yourself to something special since your heart has been hurting for so long. You had a plan of getting something for dinner, doing a little indulgent spending, and then going home to drink a glass of wine and have a facemask and a movie night. You told Naomi of your plan since you two were close like sisters, not in her definition of a sibling though.

You had dinner at your favorite restaurant, eating in the booth with the window that showed the sunset, then went to your favorite stores, buying a new silk red pajama set with shorts that had white lace around the leg openings. You bought a new red pencil skirt for work and a necklace that would match it.

When you get home it’s so quiet you assume no one is there, you put your things away and shower before changing into your new pajamas, you had to admit, you looked delectable in them. You got a glass of wine and then took the bottle with you to your room to watch a movie. After about two glasses and half of the movie you felt a little tired so you decided to go to bed, you brought your glass and the wine back to the kitchen, wanting to put the bottle away in its cupboard and wash your cup. Although you only had two glasses you could feel your skin buzzing from the alcohol.

As you go to put the bottle away you get startled when a voice speaks in the dark “What are you doing up so late?” His deep voice makes you jump and drop the glass and the bottle onto the floor around your bare feet, wine and glass going everywhere. “Hang on” he says and walks over, gently and easily lifting you up to sit on the countertop behind you as he grabbed towels and a broom to clean up the mess “i’m sorry Kunikida, you scared me but I should have been more careful” you whisper, why does the darkness of night always make you feel like you should whisper? “I’m sorry for frightening you, you have nothing to apologize for” he finishes cleaning up the mess, throwing out the glass and paper towels before turning back to you. “You never answered my question” he says and you smile sweetly “just putting back the wine” you say innocently and a smile threatens to tug on his lips.

“Oh you got wine on you” he says and before he realizes his actions he’s kneeled down on one knee, holding your foot gently and cleaning away the wine that has sprayed up your leg. “Ouch” you say and pull your foot away “what hurts?” he asks and then turns your foot gently “you have a piece of glass in your foot” he says and then gently pulls it free “wait here I am going to go get the first aid kit” before you can object he’s gone, down the hall to the bathroom.

When he comes back you’re swinging your feet softly and humming along to a song stuck in your head, he pauses for a moment at the doorway, noting how long and beautiful your legs looked in your new pajamas, you made his mouth dry

He came back, kneeling down once again to hold your foot, cleaning it with some peroxide before applying some neosporin and a bandaid, his cheeks flushed as he uses all of his willpower not to run his hands up your legs and grip your thighs, pushing your legs apart as he stands between them, kissing your soft- he cuts those thoughts short, you didn't meet the requirements, you weren’t the one.

When he stood you followed what the alcohol in your veins was telling you, leaning into him you lay your head against the tall man's chest as you hugged him. “Thank you for always protecting me Kunikida” his hands find their way to your back, he can smell your shampoo and the natural scent of your skin, it's intoxicating to him.

He had two choices, push you as far away as he could and reprimand you even though he is just as at fault, or embrace you and throw his list out the window. Maybe Dazai was right and he was too stuck up with the list, he was sure about one thing, that you were the only one who almost filled the entire list, the other five being self indulgent he could cross them out and then you would be the one. He was so confused, his life was his book, he was his book, his ideals were everything. Good thing ideals can change and evolve with time.

You pull back and push him away softly before hopping down from the counter, your hands on his shoulders as you look up at him. He smiles down at you, a lovely smile that looked so genuine, filled with unspeakable loneliness in his eyes. You reach up and untie the crimson ribbon around his neck and stand on your tiptoes, kissing his cheek/chin and whispering a goodnight before walking off back to your bedroom. If he reprimanded you tomorrow you would blame the drinks and claim to be a lightweight.

The next morning you wear your new crimson red pencil skirt, a white blouse tucked in, and the ribbon you took from Kunikida, around your neck twice and tied in bow, like the perfect choker that puts the necklace you bought the day before to shame. You slip on your black heels and exit your room, heading down to the kitchen to have a coffee and some breakfast, you’re usually up and out the door before everyone else so that you can take the long way to work, through the park to see the spring blooming.

“You’re up early” his voice shocks you again, but this time you keep a hold on your coffee cup “I could say the same to you, I’m always up at this time. Coffee?” he nods with a small smile and you turn around to poor him some from the pot you made, he never knew who made coffee, he knew that it was made when he got up but assumed you just put it on a timer, not that you were already up at this hour since you came into work right on time when you were scheduled. He wonders what you do with your mornings.

You hand him a cup and he takes it with a smile “thank you y/n” he says and you nod “no problem” you go back to making your breakfast, pretending like last night’s incident isn’t fresh on your mind, until your toe kicks a piece of glass that was stuck under the lower cabinet. You crouch down, picking up the piece as Kinikida comes around “you’re not one to miss something Kunikida” you hold it up with a sly smile “If i didn’t know better, I’d say I really flustered you last night” (if i didn't know about your list is more like it) his heart was racing, you did fluster him, “nonsense” he says, taking the glass and disposing of it, pretending to not notice the necklace you had made from his ribbon around your neck, or the way that you looked practically kneeling in front of him.

You laugh as you stand, going back about your business, wrapping your breakfast up and throwing your bag over your shoulder before grabbing your travel coffee mug and sending him another, albeit fake this time, smile, “nonsense, I know I know, I don't even make the list. 58. I’ll see you at the office, Kunikida.” You bow slightly before leaving him in the kitchen, just as flustered as you had him last night, if you had pushed just a little more, he would have confessed, confessed that he has practically rewritten his list around you. Part of him wonders where you’re off to, you’re not scheduled for another hour and a half and he knows for a fact the walk takes ten minutes. He sighs, finishing his coffee, if he wanted to know he would just ask you later.

The day went by smoothly, you did your missions, did your paperwork, and went home. Sadly though, because of a fight during a mission, you lost the ribbon you took from Kunikida and in turn got a ring of budding bruises and burns because of the villain using it to try and strangle you. What was worse was that you weren’t able to even see Kunikida for the rest of the day.

You walked up the steps of the home slowly, making sure you didn’t wake anyone, if they were even here, it’s past 11 now, your last fight took a while and so did the paperwork. If you shower quickly you can give yourself at least 20 minutes of time to relax and process before going to sleep, already hating your morning alarm.

You head to your room, take off your clothing and hang them up, placing the hanger by the door so that you can drop it by the dry cleaners in the morning. Once inside the bathroom you start the shower to warm up, looking at yourself in the mirror you gently touch your neck, hissing at the pain and quickly retreating your fingers. Sighing, you run your fingers through your hair, blood dried and caked in a few places making your fingers get stuck on tangles, you grab your comb and take it into the shower with you, combing through gently after it’s been washed and conditioned.

You sigh again, grabbing the wine bottle, before you even reach for a glass you think better of it, uncorking it and drinking straight from the bottle. The sound of the bottom of the bottle scraping as you placed it down against the marble sounded loud in the quiet, dark room, but compared to the sound of the feet stomping down the stairs it was silent.

You take another drink then gasp as the light turns on in the kitchen, causing you to yet again drop what you were holding on to the floor, the bottle shattering around your feet and your head hanging, this isn't what you needed, something else to keep you from sleep. Before you can even think of bending down to clean up the mess, you are lifted to the counter again, the same as the previous night, but what made it different was the gentle fingers, turning your face up to look at him.

“We have to stop meeting like this” you say, trying to diffuse the tension, but by the way his lips turned down into a frown, made you break, you couldn’t get reprimanded right now, not by him, not by the one person you wish would comfort you. You tear your head from his grasp, looking back down at your lap as the tears gather in your eyes and your throat tightens in what feels like agony.

“Stay here” he says as he disappears, once he’s gone your face scrunches up, failing to hold back tears anymore you cover your face with your hands, muffling your cries and hiding your face even though the hot tears just slid down your palms and off your chin, hitting your thighs silently.

When he gets back he pauses, seeing you look so vulnerable, at your end, he’s never seen you like this and it absolutely kills him. he knows his damn list, knows what he has said before, but somehow, regardless of his words or actions, his heart has chosen for itself. He crosses the room in seconds, sets the first aid kit down beside you, and wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his chest.

your hands find their way around his back, grabbing fistfulls of the shirt he was wearing, your face buried in his chest as your tears soaked through the fabric. He held you tight, his hand smoothing down your hair as your sobs wracked through you. When you were done crying he held you longer, waiting for when you were ready, when you would pull away.

All he can think about as he holds you was how pissed off he was when Dazai told him you were attacked, how pissed off he was at the villian you fought. But so proud of you for your win, for your fighting skills, he was told you were almost killed, almost strangled to death with your necklace, the necklace that was made from his ribbon. It made him angry because he wasn't there to keep that from happening, he knew you were strong but he felt this pit in his stomach, that he was so close to losing you and you didn't even know that he cared so much for you. The way Dazai looked at him made him angrier, all he could do was change the subject and finish paperwork. He was worried about you. When he heard you in the shower he was grateful you were home, he resisted going to you when he heard you back in your room, told himself to go to sleep when he heard your footsteps go back down the steps. But when he didn’t hear you come back in a few minutes he couldn’t control himself, running down the steps as quick as he could, he couldn't help it, he needed to make sure you were okay.

When you pulled back from him you felt embarrassed, “Sorry Kuni-” he tilts your head up to look at him “you have nothing to be sorry about” he whispers, brushing your tears away and then leans down to kiss your forehead. You gasp in shock as he acts like this was a normal thing between you two, looking at him with wide, bloodshot eyes as he grabs the first aid kit. He takes out the Neosporin and then puts some on his fingers before gently rubbing some on your neck, you hiss and pull away from the pain “I’m sorry” he says and you shake your head before taking his other hand, holding it as you tilt your face away to expose your neck better in the light.

He frowns as he sees the extent of damage your neck took. “I’m sorry for taking your ribbon. Karma, i guess” you whisper through gritted teeth as he gently applies the cream to your neck, the broken bottle and spilled wine forgotten about for the time being. “Hush” he says and squeezes your hand, he moves to the other side of your neck and you roll your head to keep the correct side of the wound in the light. His touch feels nice on your neck, his gentle cool fingers against your angry red, wounded neck, you sigh softly, a sweet sound to his ears. He squeezes your hand again as he finishes his work and you drop it, turning your face to look at him.

“You can have any ribbon of mine you want” he says calmly as he grabs a hand towel from the counter and crouches down, wiping up the wine carefully. You look down at him with your eyebrows raised “Kunikida?” He looks up at you from your feet “what?” He responds and you chuckle softly, your stuffy nose changing the sound “why are you being so nice to me?” He looks back down to his cleaning so you don’t see his blushing cheeks, his heart beating wildly, “what do you mean? I’m a nice guy” he says and you laugh “you are. But you’re making me feel special, that’s usually not your M.O. I mean I’m not even that worthy by your standards.” You say and you feel your heart crack at finally saying the truth out loud.

He sighs, the weight in the room heavy as he finishes cleaning up the wine and glass, just throwing away the glass towel, making a mental note to buy a replacement tomorrow. He walks back over to where you are, still sitting on the counter, looking down at your toes and focusing on the cool tile under your palms and the way the heat in your neck throbs.

He places his palms against your knees, gently opening them to stand between them, you gasp as he places his fingers under your chin and tilts your face up to look at him. He looks fiercely serious and your eyes flick down to his lips for a second before meeting his eye again, blushing as he smirks at your actions.

“Y/n” he starts, his voice deep and as serious as he looks, you don’t know if he’s going to reprimand you or not. “Where do you go in the morning before work?” he asks and a chuckle bubbles out your throat “Kunikida, here I thought you were going to kiss me but instead you wanted to ask me about my morning ritual? Come with me in the morning and you can see” he nods, his cheeks pink “okay I will” he says and then picks you up easily into his arms “what are you doing? Oh god please don’t drop me” he chuckles as you cling to him and doesn’t say anything as he carries you upstairs to your bedroom, tucking you in and kissing your forehead, successfully confusing the hell out of you as you watch him leave your room “we’ll talk over breakfast. Get a good rest” he says as he closes your door behind him.

The next morning you’re up a little earlier than usual, excited to have Kunikida accompany you before work. You dress in a dark green pencil skirt with a cream blouse tucked in and black heels. You layer a couple long gold necklaces, making sure to avoid the still red and bruising marks, and put on some matching earrings, you style your hair up in a neat bun, leaving out a few whispies to frame your face. You put on a little makeup to accentuate your features before leaving your bedroom and taking along your clothes to drop off at the cleaners. When you get downstairs Kunikida is already there, pouring you a cup of coffee.

Your stomach flips when you see him, your breath hitching as you watch him pour the coffee into your travel mugs. You feel your face flush as he looks up to you in the doorway “goodmorning Y/n” he says, setting the pot down and walking over to you. He reaches out and gently takes your chin in his hand, tilting your head back to examine your neck. “Let’s put more medicine on this, it will probably take away some of the pain.”

“Should I sit on the counter again?” your voice was low and teasing, your hand coming up to rest on his chest. His heart beat is so loud in his ears he hopes you can’t feel it under your palm on his chest.

Your breath hitches as you gaze up at him, his eyes flicking to your lips as you stand close together in the kitchen. “Yes that might be wise” he says and places his hands on your hips as he leads you around to the island behind him, your butt bumps into the counter and he swiftly lifts you back to the countertop. You chuckle, steadying yourself by holding his shoulders.

“I’m starting to think you like me up here” you tease, smiling at him, the height of the counter making you almost eye to eye.

His cheeks dust a light shade of pink as he pushes up his glasses, “i’m just trying to take care of you since it was my ribbon that did this to you”

He gently grabs your chin again, looking into your eyes for a moment, the tension in the air thick as you smiled sweetly, his tongue wets his bottom lip and your eyes flick down to them, when you look back up at him his eyes are dark and you can tell he wants to kiss you, a soft chuckle escapes your lips and it seems to shake him out of it. He turns your head gently and grabs the neosporin.

“Thank you Kunikida. I’m sure i will heal quicker because of your care.” you whisper as he begins on the other side. “I surely hope so.” he states. Your hands are on your lap as you play with your fingers, waiting patiently for him to finish.

“Are you ready to see what I do in the morning?” you ask when he finishes his work, your eyes finding his again. He nods “yes, I am truly excited to go with you.” You place your hands on his shoulders and slip off the counter, pressing yourself against him you stand on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek “thank you. For the care and the coffee” You use your thumb to softly wipe the lip gloss from his cheek before slipping past him, grabbing your coffee and slipping your bag across your shoulder and grabbing last night's clothes.

You take a sip of your coffee and then smile at him “Ready?” you ask and he nods, your bright smile making his heart race as he picks up his coffee and bag and follows you out of the kitchen.

You walk the opposite direction from the office and he quirks his eyebrow at you but says nothing as he follows, his stomach in nervous excited knots. He takes a sip of his coffee, hoping the hot bean liquid would help him relax.

After you drop off your clothes you take him to the bread shop a few blocks away, getting a bagel for breakfast where he opted for a croissant. You showed him your favorite building, a small home that was ancient and still standing surrounded by the tall glass buildings and businesses. You stopped for a moment to talk to the lovely old lady who lived there, she was always tending her flower garden when you passed in the morning and you became good friends with her.

“Who is this? Your sweetheart?” she asks and you chuckle “This is Kunikida, we work together” you say with a small smile and she looks at you knowingly “Oh honey if i had a coworker who looked at me the way he looked at you,” she doesn't finish the sentence, she just sends you a pointed look causing your cheeks to flush as you chuckle, Kunikida just watches you with a smile, loving how cute you look when you blush.

The next stop was the park, since it is the spring the flowers are in bloom and it all looks pretty, you sit down at your usual bench that overlooks the majority of the area, the sun in the sky warming your shoulders as the shadows of the trees dance across your features, Kunikida sits by you, drinking in your presence as he watches you truly enjoy every moment you are in.

“You said we would talk today. Is now a good time or maybe later during lunch? That is if we don’t get last minute missions” you finish your coffee and place your cup in your bag. He sighs, looking out across the park and he pushes up his glasses “You have perplexed me.” he says you laugh, a little confused. You turn to him and watch him, waiting for him to continue.

“I am my ideal. Ideals that mean everything. I have my protocol and I stick to it no matter what. Everything is planned, work is structured. It is how I thrive. I have these ideals and requirements. But then you joined the group and slowly you have captured my heart.” he turns his head to look into your eyes now, they are full of raw emotion that leaves you speechless.

“Kuni-” he takes your hand and it silences you “My list” he says and reaches up to wrap your whispies around his finger “all it has on it now is you”

Your heart stops and your breath catches as he confesses his feelings, this man who is all ideals and protocol, who you have been in love with since you started working with, who you never thought you would have a chance with, is holding your hand and telling you that his only requirement for a partner, is that it is you.

“What about your list of 58? This is very unlike you Kunikida” you whisper, your heart going positively wild at his confession, you never thought he would be the one to change part of his ideal. It was completely out of character. “You are hundreds, thousands of things that make my life sweeter. Who needs 58 when you give me all” your breath catches and he leans down, pressing his forehead into yours.

“Please tell me you feel this too” you chuckle, your hand coming to rest on his cheek “I feel this too. Kunikida I-” he captures your lips with his, a kiss that has been built up with tension over the past few days, you sigh and reach up, your hand ghosting over his cheek and neck before landing on his pony, wrapping the strands around your fingers. His free hand is cupping your cheek gently, his fingers brushing against your skin as his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, you sigh as you touch your tongue to his, the feeling of electricity coursing through your veins.

Your phone beeps and you groan, pulling back from him as you look down at it, reading the message that has come through, his hand was still playing with your hair.“What is it?” you sigh and look up at him, forgetting about how close your faces were until your noses brushed “Dazai says to come in as soon as possible so we should go now-” he pecks your lips softly and stands, pulling you up with him

“Always more work to do” he says and you smile, he was right as per usual. He holds out his hand and you take it with a smile, lacing your fingers together as you continue your walk. “Are we going to tell the others?” You ask, really unsure yourself about what was best “yes. There will be paperwork to do but I’ve had it on my desk for a while now” you chuckle “you have?!” He nods “ Dazai gave them to me. He knew how I felt before I did” you laugh “Dazai always knows. He caught me looking at you once and I had to promise him if you didn’t feel the same that I had to help him with his suicide mission, just so he wouldn’t tell you my feelings first” you both make mental notes to talk to Dazai. You stop outside the doors and pull him down into another soft kiss, when you pull back you smile up at him and he chuckles “be safe today” he says as he looks over your neck again and you nod “yes sir” you say and chuckle at the emotion that flashes in his eyes you lean forward “i wish we had to time to explore that. Too bad we have to work” you kiss his neck and then pull back, opening the door and walking into the building chuckling. Daizai watching with a knowing smirk from the window above.

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