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millennium born, industry made: a y2k celebrity au klance fanfic 🎥🌐📀🏳️‍🌈📸

read chapter one here!

art by @vldlance

In a world still celebrating that the y2k bug did not, miraculously, instigate the complete collapse of society, Keith Kogane once again finds himself navigating the glittery, plastic world of Hollywood as golden actor Takashi Shirogane's far less likable younger brother. He's become used to the paparazzi, talk shows, and horrifically low-cut denim of his current surroundings, but he can't quite find it in himself to allow annoying newcomer Lance McClain to schmooze his way into mentorship by Shiro as many others have done. Lance is nothing if not persistent, however, and he slowly carves his way into Keith's life and heart despite Keith's best efforts. Keith is well aware of the public scrutiny and cruelty that comes with being openly gay, and has vowed to avoid living through that at all costs—but how can he fall in love when he's not allowed to show it? Can a restricted but safe love be a replacement for an open one? Or is there, just maybe, a chance that this new millennium can hold a space for even an incredibly public relationship between people like Keith and Lance?

finally finally posting this! i've been working on it for a while and have most of the fic planned out :] this is my first chaptered fic like...ever? so i'm really excited and i hope y'all will enjoy this intro to it as much as i enjoyed making it.

please tell me your thoughts if you have any! i embrace the serialized nature of fanfiction, so i'm not against people giving me feedback and ideas even if i have the overarching story planned.

again, i hope you enjoy!! i recommend playing 2000s music while you read :)

late fee

jeon jeongguk x (f) reader

summary: “Captain Underpants isn’t glorified by all the tryhards, so when I pick those books, you’re unknowingly more interested in me.” tags: f2l, flirty kook, jk’s obsession w/captain underpants, he’s a fuckboy but he’s a soft fuckboy dont get it twisted, campus boy crush jk(yes again), jk abuses the FuCK out of pet names, miss koo1aid actually writes some PLOT warnings: much flirting, nsfw bc of a lot of heavy petting, pussy eatin’, a lil dirty talk, very s l i g h t coochie sniffing, BUT!!! protected sex :) wc: 10.3k

i wrote another fic (applause) and the entire thing is based off my belief that jungkook 10000% would enjoy captain underpants books. not proofread bc i am a hermit and speak to exactly 0 ppl on here, que dios los bendiga

“Helloooo, sexy librarian,” Jeongguk says the moment he steps through the door, lopsided grin adorning his features as he swaggers over to obnoxiously lean against your desk. You can’t even pretend you didn’t see him, his presence so blaringly consuming, and evident in the way some dorky high schoolers glance over to gawk at him.

“What book are you checking out today, Jeon?” You muse instead, leaving your desk chair to head over to the stack of new books that needed to be stamped. As you turn, Jeongguk whistles at the sight, and you don’t even have it in you anymore to retort back the same way you would when he first started bugging you. “Also, are you aware that your copy of Captain Underpants and the Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants is due tomorrow? It’s a dollar for every day it’s late—”

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see you around || jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college, strangers (idiots) to lovers, fitness instructor! jungkook, fluff, smut

word count: 13.9k

summary: you know those beautiful strangers that you admire from afar and obsess over with your friends, but know there’s about a one percent chance they’ll ever talk to you or even know who you are?  that’s precisely what jeon jungkook was to you; a piece of delicious eye candy that you could daydream about all you wanted, but had to accept that it was too unrealistic to ever happen.  or so you thought.  after an embarrassing accident at the gym that makes your worlds collide, maybe you had been wrong about your chances all along.

a/n: when i came up with this idea in my head, i guessed it would be around 5k words.  guess my hands slipped.  this is only my second bts fic, but after getting good feedback for my first one, i decided to give it another try and this is what happened.  i tried to edit closely, but there may be a few types so i’m sorry!  thanks for reading & pls lmk what you think. :)

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the sky, it falls

genre: angst, best friends!au, unrequited love!au

pairing: best friend!jake × gender neutral!reader ft. park sunghoon (i'm sorry i just love him so much)

synopsis: you've regretted many things in your life but your biggest regret? letting your best friend fall in love with someone that wasn't you.

warnings: explicit language 🙈

word count: 6410 words

playlist: love, or the lack thereof by isaac dunbar / don't by eAeon ft. rm

taglist: @floraljae

author's note: i wrote this in the span of two days with only 4 hours of sleep SLAJKFSJ i believe i've outdone myself this time, fellas 🤩 (also nini asked to be tagged but you'll probably hate me after reading this🚶‍♂️) anyway, enjoy!!

TWO YEARS AGO, you had finally come to the conclusion that Jake Sim was a fucking idiot.

Sure, he was an amazing student — with good grades and a definite chance of going to college on a scholarship, but this didn't mean anything to you. Jake Sim lacked common sense, and you learned this after he'd asked you to confess to his crush for him.

"Absolutely not," you'd said, ignoring his whines and pleas as you dragged him home. "That's the dumbest idea you've ever had — and you've had plenty."

"Come on, _____," he whined, stomping his feet like a child throwing a tantrum after not getting a toy. "I can't just walk up to them and tell them. That's weird!"

"That's the normal thing to do," you said. "You have to tell them how you feel. You can't just hide behind me every time you're in trouble or afraid, Jake." The boy groaned, letting go of your arm and making space between the two of you, sulking. What you said was right (you were always right), but that'd never stopped it from happening before anyway.

You see, as confident as Jake seemed around others, he was like a lost dog around you. Whenever he happened to come across the tiniest of inconveniences, he would turn to you in hopes that you'd fix it — and you did. This wasn't anything new, of course, but at your age, it was something that needed to stop.

"You always ask me for favors and I never complain," he mumbled. "Can't you help me? Just this once?"

"You say that all the time."

"And you always help me," he said. Jake stopped walking and you followed after, turning to face him. "What's stopping you from helping me now?"

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing stopping you from helping your best friend. But you've seen plenty of movies like these, and the outcome was never good. You sighed, "Why would I 'confess' to someone who isn't my crush?" you asked.

Jake stepped closer to you and grabbed your arm again, smiling at you. "Please? I promise I'll never ask anything from you again. Just please, _____, help me with this." You stared at him, thinking of all the possible ways you could knock some sense into him (just punch him already) but instead of doing that, you only sighed again.

"Fine," you said. Jake's smile grew and he started jumping up and down like a child, the light in his eyes twinkling with excitement. "But I'm only doing this because you won't leave me alone."

"Thank you so much, _____!" he said, letting go of you. "I swear, I love you forever!"

And that was the start of your downfall.

Three weeks after you'd "confessed" to Jake's crush (you hadn't really cared enough to learn their name), Jake finally made his move by asking them out. And of course, being the great friend you were, you were happy for him. Now, there was no need for him to bug you with questions about them, but that was where you were wrong.

It was as if they were all Jake talked about.

"They complimented me!" Jake said excitedly, rocking back and forth in his seat. You sat across from him on the grass, eating your salad (you didn't even like salads, but they're nutritional). It was Sunday, which meant you'd be together all day and today, you decided to have lunch in the park. "They told me I looked nice, _____! Isn't that great?!"

"It's amazing," you responded, uninterested. "When's the wedding?"

Jake ignored your tone, deciding it was best not to be discouraged by you. "I think they really like me, _____," he said, taking a strawberry from the container in front of him.

"That's great."

"Can you be a little happier for me?" he asked, trying to meet your eyes. "You sound angry everytime I mention them."

"Man, I'm just trying to eat my fucking salad," you laughed, ignoring his last statement. "I am happy for you — want a tomato?" He nodded and you took a tomato from your bowl and fed him. He ate it happily. "I just think maybe you should, I dunno, talk about something else every once in a while?"

Jake snorted, "If you're jealous, just say so."

"I'm not!" you said.

"Come on, _____. You're my best friend — I've known you for forever. I think by now I'd be able to tell when you're jealous or not." You shook you head, turning your attention back to your lunch. He smiled and moved closer to you. "I can set you up with someone, if you'd like," he said in a low voice.

"Fuck no!" Jake laughed at your reaction, satisfied. "As if I'd date one of your weird friends. Thanks, but I'm not a desperate dumbass like you."

"You're so mean to me," he said, moving back to his original spot. "Think about it — we could go on double dates! And eat ice cream! Come on, you like ice cream."

"Drop it, Sim," you said. "I'm not dating anyone." Jake frowned, taking the container of strawberries into his hands and eating out of it.

"Fine," he mumbled. "But don't blame me if you end up lonely."

"I won't."

Jake's first relationship lasted a month.

To say he was sad was an understatement — the poor boy was devastated. You expected this much from a seventeen-year-old boy who was a little too affectionate with people. You expected him to run to you and stay with you and cry over how much he hated his ex-partner. You expected this because it was Jake Sim, your best friend.

However, you didn't expect him to move on so quickly and what started as an innocent love turned into something you hated.

In under the span of a year, Jake had dated five girls and flirted with countless amounts of people, and you were there to witness it all. The boy you knew before was gone and you had watched him change right before your eyes. But of course, he treated you the same.

Eighteen wasn't any better.

"Do you think you can grab the popcorn for later?" you asked the boy. The two of you had gone grocery shopping for movie night (it was Sunday, after all) and you were very determined to finish the entire Twilight saga that night, despite your obvious hate for the storyline. When you received no response from Jake, you turned your head only to find him staring down at his phone, smiling. You rolled your eyes and poked his side, making him yelp in surprise and almost drop his phone. "I'm talking to you, idiot."

"Sorry," he said. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you could grab the popcorn," you repeated.

And there it was, the apologetic smile Jake gave you when he needed something from you. He had never used it as much before but after everything that's happened in the past year, it was the only smile he gave you. You sighed, "What, Jake?"

"Yeah, uh, about movie night," he started. "Do you think maybe we could... cancel?"

Oh.

You stared at him, noticing the slight panic in his eyes. Then your eyes trailed down to his phone, where you then realized the situation you were in. "A date?" you asked, raising a brow questioningly.

"Yeah..." He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry. I know it's sudden, but I figured it'd be fine if we do it today becau—"

"Because we do this all the time," you said, finishing his sentence as you went back to looking at the different variety of drinks you could choose from. "Sure, go ahead. It's just this once, right?" Jake nodded. "Okay then."

"Thank you, _____," he said, smiling happily. "I love you forever."

Your stomach turned at the sound of his words and you found yourself forcing a smile. "Sure," you said with a small nod. Before, you weren't sure if it was the obvious lie he had told you that made you feel that way or if it was the words he'd said after, but you didn't think much on it.

Turning nineteen should've been better, but you quickly learned that it was worse — so much worse.

For the past two years, you've heard an innumerable amount of excuses from Jake, explaining why he couldn't make it to movie night or picnic lunch "dates" or just be with you. And none of it bothered you at first — it was nice to see he was finally getting out of the house and had stopped relying on you, but it was also weird not having him around and before you knew it, you were missing him more than you wanted to.

But you had every right to miss him. He was your best friend and this was all just something you'd have to get used to with time, so there was nothing wrong with you missing him for the mean time, right?

Wrong.

Everything was wrong with missing him, especially with all the changes you've seen from him.

"You know, I don't think he even thinks about me these days," you started, laying on the grass at the park. "He's probably having the time of his life." You turned your head to look at the boy beside you. "Don't you think so, Sunghoon?"

Park Sunghoon, one of Jake's close friends, sighed. "You don't even make an effort to talk to him anymore, _____," he said. "I think he has every right not to remember you." You raised your hand and hit his arm gently, rolling your eyes when he winced. "I can see why he doesn't miss you," he said. "You're always hitting people."

"It's my way of showing affection," you said. "And I don't care if he misses me or not — he should at least ask me if I'm doing well. The last text he sent me was a month ago, Park. Can you believe him? He can't even text his own best friend to ask them if they're still alive." You scoffed in disbelief, looking at Sunghoon again when you heard his phone go off. He stared at his phone, then looked at you apologetically. Your mouth opened in shock, "No, he didn't."

"But... he did," he said.

"Fucking asshole. What did he say?" You sat up, looking over the boy's shoulder to look at his phone screen. "Is he bragging about his girlfriend again?"

"Fortunately, he's not," he said. "He is, however, wondering if I'm talking shit about him."

"Ha!" You laughed loudly, making the boy move away from you before you burst his eardrums. "Deserved!" Sunghoon watched you laugh over Jake's inconvenience, an thought popping into his head.

"_____," he called your name, waiting for you to calm down before he continued with his thought. Your laughter died down a few moments later and you hummed in response, waiting for him to speak. "Do you like Jake?"

Your smile disappeared.

You stared at Sunghoon blankly, but that was all he needed to know the truth. "No," you said. "I don't like that dumbass." Sunghoon continued to stare at him, almost as if he were waiting for you to tell him the "truth." "What? Stop looking at me like that, I don't like him. I just... don't."

"Okay," Sunghoon said. "Whatever you say." You didn't say anything after that and laid back down on the grass, sighing deeply as you stared up at the cloudless, blue sky.

The next time you saw Jake was by accident — well, you considered it an accident.

You were on your way home from a stressful day at your part-time job when you spotted him sitting on your parent's front porch. He wasn't staring at his phone like he always was whenever you saw him but at the sky instead, his lips pursed and his leg bouncing impatiently. "What are you doing?" you asked startling him as he looked away from the sky and at you, a smile instantly spreading across his face as he stood up and walked towards you.

"I was waiting for you," he said. "Your mom said you weren't home yet, so I waited here for... three hours?"

"Wow, so determined," you said, clapping sarcastically. He rolled his eyes and you were about to start walking away when he grabbed your wrist. You turned to look at him, "What?"

"Well, I was hoping you'd kinda hang out with me today," he said, smiling sheepishly as he let go of your wrist. "You know, like we used to?"

Ouch. Like we used to. You didn't like that phrase one bit.

"It's only been two months, Sim," you said. "If you missed me, you could've just said so."

"Oh, shut up," he said playfully, smiling when you started to laugh.

"Fine," you said. "Let me at least change first." The boy nodded enthusiastically and it reminded you of the times before, when he was yours and you were his, the time before seventeen and first loves. You gave him a small smile before going inside to change out of your work clothes.

Jake was awfully quiet that day as he walked beside you. You glanced at him and noticed how uncomfortable he seemed to be around you, which was weird. It was you who he was with after all. "Did something happened?" you asked, breaking the silence between you two. He flinched at your sudden voice and sighed, shaking his head.

"Not really," he said. "I did, uh, break up with my partner, though." The last part was quiet, almost as if he didn't want you to hear him, but at the same time did.

"Damn," you said. "That's sad. That's, like, your third break up this year."

"You're making me sound like a bitch, _____," he laughed.

"That's 'cause you are, Sim," you said, laughing with him. "Don't worry, though — you're not getting rid of me."

"I know that," he said. "You're like the little flea guy from Inuyasha. What was his name?" You hit the back of his head lightly, making him laugh again.

"His name's Myōga. Asshole."

The park was always your go-to place when hanging out with Jake, mainly because it was closer to your house. It was one of the things that you never wanted to change, considering all the memories the two of you had made there.

Jake sat down on the grass and you followed, unintentionally keeping a distance between the two of you. The sun was starting to set, but there were clouds in the sky — storm clouds, it seemed. "_____," he called your name. "Living on my own is harder than I thought."

Right. You forgot he moved out of his parent's home a few months ago.

"I told you it'd be shit," you said, remembering the week before when you'd clearly been against it. But Jake never listened to you anyway; he'd always been that way.

"And it is," he chuckled. "God, I should really start listening to you more." The two of you fell silent once again, you staring at the playground in the distance and he pulling grass out of the ground. It was a comfortable silence, when that you hadn't felt in what felt like years. You missed this, you missed your best friend.

You missed Jake.

The rain was sudden, but not completely unexpected. It started off slow, one drop followed by the other and that drop followed by several more. Jake stood up, a smile spreading across his face when the intensity of the downpour increased. He started laughing when he heard thunder in the distance and held his hand out in front of you, offering to help you get up. You took it immediately, the feeling of his warm hand and your cold skin sending shivers down your spine.

"Let's go home," you said loudly over the sound of thunder.

"No!" Jake said before he took off running in the opposite direction. You knew he wanted you to chase after him, and that you did (after a few complaints, of course). Thunder roared and lightning struck but that didn't seem to phase Jake. He stopped running and stood in the rain, looking up at the sky at the raindrops fell onto his face. He opened his eyes and turned in your direction where you, too, had stopped running. "Look!" he yelled, pointing upward. "The sky's falling!"

You smiled, "You're an idiot!"

"I know!"

By now, you were both drenched in the sky's tears, shivering due to the cold. Jake walked towards you — his stupid smile still decorating his face — and stopped when he stood right in front of you. You stared at him, wondering what kind of stupid idea he was about to come up with now.

"Let's dance," he said, his voice rather soft for the kind of weather you were in now.

"What?" you asked.

"I said, let's dance!" he repeated, taking your cold hand in his.

"I don't know how to dance, Jake!" you laughed.

"Don't worry about it." It was then you realized that Jake wasn't a good dancer either — well, at least not in the rain. He would step on your shoes, but you would just laugh at him, saying it was okay. At some point, he ended up slipping and you both fell, followed by loud laughter coming from both of you. He got off the floor and ran a hand through his wet hair before helping you up again. Then, he was running again.

You didn't bother to run after him, but you did walk, laughing everytime he tripped over his shoes. When he was a good forty-some feet away from you, he stopped, cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled your name. "_____!!" he yelled, smiling.

"Yes, Jake?!" you yelled back.

"I love you forever!!"

And then it hit you. There, as you stood in the rainstorm, your best friend that you've known for eight years smiling at you as if the rain wasn't blocking his view of you, yelling that he loved you as if there weren't other people around that gave you weird looks. It hit you the way a batter hits a baseball, the way a soccer player kicks a ball to score a goal, it hit you straight in the stomach.

You were in love with Jake Sim, which now seemed to explain a lot of things and he couldn't see it because of the distance and the rain, but you were crying.

"Forever?" you asked, loud enough for him to hear.

"Forever!" he said.

"Me, too!" you yelled back, watching as the smile on his face grew, but you knew he didn't mean his words the same way you meant yours.

You've regretted a lot of things in your nineteen years of living but your biggest regret? It was definitely letting your best friend love someone else besides you.

Turning twenty was horrible.

After much thinking in your bedroom and long talks with Park Sunghoon, you had finally confirmed that you being in love with Jake Sim wasn't anything new. In fact, you'd been in love with him for so long, but only now just realizing. It was irritating how you'd only now figured out your feelings but at the same time, it was refreshing — you were finally confident about the way you felt towards your best friend. But you'd never tell him.

Why?

Because he had a girlfriend. Again.

At this point, Sunghoon's learned how to tune you out when you rant to him. Your words go in one ear and out the other and his responses were always short or hums. You could tell he didn't really care and you were actually grateful — if he did care, you knew he'd probably beat the shit out of Jake. (And no one was allowed to beat the shit out of Jake except you.)

"How long do you think they'll last?" you asked him, popping grapes into your mouth. "I bet two mont— no, maybe three."

"You're really wishing for their downfall, aren't you?" Sunghoon asked, rolling his eyes. "Six months."

"Six?" You laughed, "Isn't that a bit much?"

"Well, you haven't really seen them together as much as I have, _____," he said, looking up from his phone and at you. "Six months."

"That's a long time," you said.

"Yeah. It is." You sighed, eating the rest of the grapes. By now, you'd realized that Jake only ran back to you after a breakup, which was around every other month, but six months? You couldn't wait that long to see him again. Six months was half a year — so much could happen in that span of time. But Park Sunghoon was right.

The next time you saw Jake wasn't six months later, however — it was seven. A cold winter morning where he'd decided it was finally best to check to see if his best friend was still breathing by visiting your parent's house. Whenever he'd talk to you, it was as if you hadn't gone half a year without communicating and it shocked you a bit, but made you happy at the same time.

"Did you break up again?" you asked once you were able to get some alone time. It was around noon by now and your mom had sent the two of you grocery shopping for lunch.

He snorted, "That's all you ever ask me when we see each other," he said.

That's the only reason why you'd ever come back to me.

You gave him an apologetic smile. "Sorry," you said. "I'm just curious, that's all."

"It's okay," he said. "We didn't break up."

Oh.

"Really?" you asked, shocked. "You managed to keep a relationship for longer than five months? Ey." You hit his arm, "What? Are you gonna marry her?"

"No!" Jake said. "I just... really like her this time."

Oh.

You smiled, "Well, invite me to the wedding, will you?"

And that he did.

Eight months after that day, fifteen months since he started his relationship, Jake texted you and asked if you could talk. Of course, you assumed he'd finally broken up with his girl and needed someone to comfort him, so you agreed to meet him at the park (as usual). When you got there, you found him seated on the old swingset near the playground, kicking the dirt with his shoes.

"This better be important," you said jokingly, taking a seat beside him. "I was in the middle of a movie marathon with mom."

He smiled. "Right," he said. "It's Sunday."

(After countless excuses, you'd come to the conclusion that it was time to replace your partner for Sunday, seeing that Jake never had any time to spend with you that day. So you replaced him with your mother and though you loved spending time with her, it wasn't the same as Sundays with Jake.)

"So, what's up?" you asked, breaking the silence. "Something on your mind? Do you need me to knock some sense into you?"

Jake laughed. "No," he said. "I'm fine, I just needed to tell you something important."

"Then go ahead. Whenever you're ready," you said. He nodded, waiting for a moment, thinking of how to phrase his words and say them to you. Then he took in a deep breath and spoke.

"I'm getting married," he said.

Your world started to crumble. Time froze and as much as you wanted to say something, you couldn't. So you sat in silence, you fighting the urge to cry and he waiting for a response from you. You let out a breath, trying to calm yourself before speaking.

"Married at twenty-one," you said quietly, because if you raised your voice, you were sure the tears would fall. "You sure about that?"

"Come on, _____," he said with a smile, hitting your arm playfully. "Be happy for me."

"I am happy for you," you said. And you were. Despite still being young and having his whole life in front of him, you were happy for Jake.

But you pitied yourself.

"I really love her," he started, almost as if you weren't on the verge of breaking down beside him. "I proposed to her two weeks ago and she said yes, too. I know maybe it's a little too soon, but I feel as if she's the one, you know?" You hummed, sniffling. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, handing it to you. You took it and stared down at it, realizing that this was reality and not some sick nightmare.

You wished it was a nightmare.

"It'd be nice if you came," he said, smiling at you softly. "It wouldn't be a wedding without my best friend, would it?"

God, it hurt. You felt as if your heart was being ripped from your chest. You felt like screaming. You felt like crying. You wanted to throw the invitation at Jake and say no, you weren't going to attend his fucking wedding. You wanted to tell him how you really felt, how you were tired of keeping your feelings to yourself. You wanted to tell him everything, but you couldn't.

"Okay," you said, looking up at him with teary eyes. "I'll go." Your heart was shattering and he didn't even know.

"Thanks, _____," he said with a grateful smile. "I love you forever."

Jake Sim was a fucking idiot.

The wedding happened five months later and you refused to get out of bed until your mother (and Park Sunghoon) dragged you out and made you get ready. Sunghoon knew how much you were suffering inside, but you'd already RSVP'd. You couldn't just bail on your best friend last minute.

So you went, accompanied by Park Sunghoon because he knew if he left you alone, you'd instantly run in the opposite direction. That didn't really stop you though because the moment you reached the venue, you took off sprinting.

"_____!!" Sunghoon yelled your name, running after you. He was thankful that you weren't a very athletic person because after only two and a half minutes of running, you were collapsed on the side of the street, trying to catch your breath. "Maybe you should exercise," he said, laughing as he grabbed your arm and pulled you off the ground. You groaned, too tired to fight him as he dragged you back to the venue.

"I'm not going inside," you said. "You can't make me."

"You don't have a choice, _____," Sunghoon said. "Jake's gonna walk out of his own wedding just to drag you there if you don't show up anyway." You scoffed.

"Why can't he just marry me?" you asked, your voice quiet. He sighed, refusing to answer and lead you inside, holding your wrist tightly just in case you tried to pull something again.

You'd never admit it, but the ceremony was beautiful (props to the wifey, you thought). You saw how Jake looked at her, his eyes lingering on her for a little too long. There was so much love between them, it almost made you feel guilty. When they began their vows, Sunghoon would glance at you occasionally, watching your eyes go from her to Jake, then back to her. To his surprise, you weren't crying — maybe because you'd already shed enough tears before the ceremony — but the sadness was evident in your eyes.

"So you did come," Jake said to you during the afterparty. He found you sitting alone, since Sunghoon had decided to get shitfaced with his other friends (god, you hated Sunghoon). "Shocker. I was getting ready to run after you."

"I'll have you know I keep my word," you said, rolling you eyes. "She's pretty, by the way."

"I know," he said with a proud smile. "She's so beautiful."

Ouch. You cleared your throat, drinking from your glass of water (you wanted to get shitfaced too, but someone had to be sober enough to take you home). "What do you plan to do after?" you asked, trying to change the subject.

"I'm gonna finish this year before dropping out," he said. "It was my decision, by the way. I had to convince her—"

You wanted to die. You wanted to stand up and walk away from the conversation. You wanted Sunghoon to come back and take you home so you could finally cry in peace. You wanted Jake to shut the fuck up.

You never got what you wanted.

You went home alone that night, crying your eyes out. This was your reality. Your best friend, the boy you'd been in love with for years, was now married to someone else.

Maybe if you'd done something differently, this never would've happened. If you hadn't agreed to help him confess to someone, you would never have been in this situation. You wouldn't have to keep your feelings to yourself — even worse now that he was married — and you wouldn't be crying on the side of the street with a now sober Park Sunghoon chasing after you.

You hated the life you were living.

To your surprise, twenty-two was a lot more quiet, peaceful. Maybe that was because Jake wasn't around as much anymore.

In all honesty, you were grateful that he wasn't there. You needed a reason to move on, especially now that he was "tied down." You needed a reason to stop drowning in your tears and to stop bother Sunghoon with your rants — you were positive he was getting tired of you, too. Moving on took a lot of effort but you were willing to try, as long as there were no distractions.

And there weren't so by the time you turned twenty-three, you were sure you'd finally moved on from Jake. Maybe his absence in your life was helpful after all. You were a lot more happy now (even Sunghoon was happy that you had stopped running to him).

That was until you received a message from Jake Sim himself.

When you saw him sitting on your front porch that evening, you didn't feel anything. Of course, you were happy to see him again, but the butterflies you'd felt all those times before were gone — a sign that you had finally moved on. You took a seat beside him. "To what do I owe this great honor?" you asked, receiving a small laugh from him.

"You're still sarcastic," he said.

"And you're still short. Some things don't change, Jake." He gave you a playful glare, smiling afterward.

"How's life treating you?" you asked him, crossing your legs and intertwining your hands.

"Well," he sighed. "It's definitely... tiring."

"It's the old age," you said, laughing when he hit your arm.

"I'm twenty-three, _____, not seventy."

Silence. You were never fond of the silence before but now, it was almost relieving for you. At least you got to have moments like this, moments that some people would find unbearable. He cleared his throat and you glanced at him. He looked like he had something to tell you, but wasn't sure how to. You didn't push him to say it, though, and waited instead.

"_____," he called your name. You hummed and waited again. Jake sighed, then continued. "I'm leaving soon."

Man, you just wanted a break.

You stared at him blankly, not sure how you should react. Did you even have the right to cry? You weren't sure what kind of reaction he was expecting, but definitely expected the silence. He played with his fingers (a habit he'd had as a kid, seems he never got rid of it) and waited for you to say something.

"When?" you asked.

"Next week."

"Where?"

"Australia," he said, letting out a breath. "I've been wanting to go back for a while and at first it was just supposed to be a vacation, but we decided to move there."

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from crying. You were never good with long distance because you were afraid of losing contact with people and he knew that — maybe that's the only reason why he bothered to check up on you some days. Don't be stupid, you're his friend.

"I'm happy for you," you said.

"You don't look happy, _____."

So maybe Jake wasn't a total idiot. You gave him a small nod and a melancholic smile. "Well, I'm just a little sad," you said. "I mean, I'll definitely miss you."

"I didn't know you had feelings."

"Shut up." Jake laughed, satisfied with your reaction. It reminded you of all the other times he'd tease you, when you were both younger. You fell silent again, listening to the sound of the wind.

"You'll text me, right?" you asked him, looking down at your shoes. "To check up on me and stuff?"

"Look at you, depending on me," he said. "What's wrong, _____? This isn't like you."

"Well, you spent most of our childhood running to me and hiding behind me," you started. "Don't you think I have the right to depend on you at least once?"

He chuckled, "Sure," he said. "I'll text you."

"I'm gonna miss you a lot."

"You already said that," he smiled.

"I know."

The day Jake Sim left for Australia was the day you swore to never love again.

You stood beside Park Sunghoon, your hands stuffed in your pockets and you eyes on your shoes. You listened quietly to the boys' conversation, waiting for the flight to be announced.

"He talks about you a lot," his wife said to you, making you raise your head. She offered you a smile. She moved to stand beside you, eyeing Jake to make sure he didn't listen to her words. "He always talks about your memories together and how you were the only person that could actually tolerate him."

"He was a pain in the ass," you said.

"He still is," she said, making you laugh. She chuckled, "But that's just who he is, you know?"

Of course you knew. You've known Jake for eleven years — or as he'd refer to it, forever. However, you held back from saying so. (She was such a nice person and being rude to her would only start an unwanted "fued" between you two, you figured.)

"You'll take care of him, right?" you asked her, looking back down at your shoes. "Make sure he doesn't do something stupid?"

She laughed, "Of course," she said. She turned to look at Jake when she heard their flight was now ready to board. "Well, we'll see each other soon." You hummed, watching her feet disappear from your line of vision. You were getting ready to start walking away when her spot was replaced by someone else. You looked up and saw Jake, who looked at you sadly. (By now, Sunghoon had said his goodbyes and stepped aside, letting you have your moment.)

"You're gonna miss your flight," you said.

"And you were gonna leave without saying goodbye," he replied, frowning. "You're so cold hearted. I was about to cry."

You snorted. "Crybaby."

You're such a bitch," he said playfully, hugging you. You returned the hug, holding back tears. "I'll miss you, though."

"Of course you will. It's me."

"Shut up, we're having a moment."

Your moment should have lasted longer than thirty seconds but when they announced their flight was boarding for the second time, Jake let go, sighing. "You'll text me?" you asked him, holding out your pinky.

"That's so childish of you," he chuckled, hooking your pinky with his nonetheless. "I promise," he said. "And if I don't, you can come find me and beat my ass, okay?"

"Okay," you smiled.

He unhooked your pinkies. "I love you forever, _____. Okay?"

You nodded, despite feeling your heart shatter inside you. "Okay," you said. "Now go before I start crying and you miss your flight." He nodded and turned around, running towards the gate. Once he was there, he turned around to wave at you, smiling brightly as he entered and finally left.

You let out a relieved sigh, as if a weight had finally been lifted from your shoulders and made your way towards Sunghoon who was patiently waiting for you. "Are you okay?" was the first thing he asked you, looking at you worriedly.

"Yeah," you said. "I'm okay."

Days later, you had come to the conclusion that Jake leaving for Australia was a good thing. Of course, you were going to miss having him around, but this was a huge step for you. Your heart was still healing and you were finally letting go — this was good for you, even if you'd probably never seen him again.

You found yourself at the park once again, even though it was the last place you wanted to be. The park was full of people — couples taking a walk, children running around, elders going for their daily run. Among them, you seemed lonely, and it was then that you realized you'd never gone to the park without Jake.

Well, it's never too late to try something new, is it?

You sat on the grass, the same spot you always sat. You stared at the spot beside you, empty and cold, waiting for someone to take a seat beside you. But maybe this was a good thing — maybe it was good to be alone every once in a while.

You sat there for hours, going through every memory you'd made there. Sighing, you laid down on the grass, closing your eyes tiredly.

You weren't expecting rain, though.

You opened your left eye when you felt a raindrop land on your forehead, followed by another on your cheek. You sat up, staring up at the sky and the raindrops continued to fall. From the corner of your eye, you saw people start to disperse, their cheerful moods ruined by the sudden downpour. However, you sat there, staring into the storm clouds as their tears fell to the ground.

Maybe you were going insane.

You stood up, staggering as you kept your eyes on the sky. The rain poured harder and the sky became darker and you probably should've been running to find shelter, but you weren't. Instead, you were standing there like an idiot, a smile stretching across your face as the water hit you.

"Well, would you look at that."

The sky was falling.

2021 © pshluvrs, all rights reserved.

𓈃 ❝ TO YOU, WITH LOVE . ❞ — lee heeseung !

PRECIS. four months after heeseung's death, you find the tape recorder he left for you ( wc. ≃ 2.12k )

GENRE. angst, minimally fluff, humour in traces

WARNINGS. profanities, angst / bittersweet, lots of flashbacks, death and mourning, mentions of breakup and arguments, crying, mentions of kissing, heeseung is insecure

NOTE. repost yas pls forget the times when i said im tired of hee angst. ps. this was inspired by lang leav's poems so there are several reference. italics text signify the audio / hee's dialogues. happy reading <3

they say relocating and starting over marks a new beginning, or to put in better words, signifies the end of a chapter of your life. you didn’t believe that initially, for new beginnings always commence from heart and not from where you live or what you’re doing. however, heeseung’s death changed that for you. and here you are, four months later, sitting in the living room of your newly bought apartment in osaka with only the setting sun keeping you company through the dreadful silence.

the unpacked boxes occupy almost every corner of the room, telling you to get up and arrange things, but your limbs have given up; partially from exhaustion and partially because of helplessness. but we cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever. healing is a slow process, and an important part of the remedy is the will to heal.

so you get up, almost stumbling on thin air because of your hazy gaze, picking up the smallest box and rummaging through the stuff, only to come across a tape recorder you’ve possibly never seen before. there’s a note on top, and it reads— ‘to you, with love.’ it doesn’t even take you a second to interpret that it’s heeseung’s handwriting. an impassive smile makes its way to your lips and here you are, ignoring all the work and sitting in one of the corners as you tune in the recorder.

‘so, you’re out with your friends to shop for your friend’s wedding when you should be with me,’ a tear rolls down your cheeks, the smile trembling as you sniffle, leaning against the wall and closing your eyes. his voice resonates with love. ‘and i’m bored, so this recorder is my last straw.’ and then he pauses, the faint sound of movements reaching your ears. you chortle, knowing he’s probably making himself comfortable on the couch.

‘we could’ve spent the noon watching movies and baking but no, you had to go out with that fri—fuck,’ your eyes shot open at the sound, some profanities escaping his lips as audible through the audio. you presume that heeseung dropped the recorder while using it. after all, he is clumsy. ‘shit, i hope this is still working— yeah it is. anyway, where were we? right, your friend who you ditched me for.’

you chuckle, reminiscing about the mentioned day. you remember it perfectly. well, how could you not; because uncharacteristically enough, heeseung was at the peak of his dramatic behaviour that summer afternoon and despite the fact that you love his clingy personality, he really managed to get on every single one of your nerves. well, that was a typical day for you. hurried mornings, whinings from heeseung, busy afternoons due to work or friends, in some cases. and now that he’s gone, you find it hard getting accustomed to a stagnant lifestyle.

‘talking about friends, do you remember sunghoon? yes, the ice skating fanatic from high school. i met him the other day and do you know what he asked? if we were still together. like, c’mon, we’re in for a long run, right?’

there are days when melancholy settles on you like a sudden change in weather. the kind of sadness that is intangible. like the presence of an ache where you can’t pinpoint where exactly it hurts, you just know it does. hearing those words feels exactly the same. those are the words that were supposed to bind you both forever; the words you would count upon when you’d have an argument with him, knowing you both are eternal.

‘do you remember when we had our very first fight?’ a lifeless laughter rolls off your tongue, spinning in the gloomy atmosphere engulfing the room. ‘it was so pointless. desserts, really? i still laugh thinking about it.’ the heeseung from back then would’ve said otherwise. it was a minute conflict but, maybe that’s how the greater arguments arose. ‘it must’ve hurt, right?’

his voice is no louder than a whisper, voice morphing into much more of an apologetic tone. and you realise— heeseung never properly apologised for your first fight. neither of you did, actually. you don’t mind, really, for the reason behind it was incredibly stupid.

a long silence follows, rather a painfully consoling one. soon enough, the sound of him humming the melodies of your favourite song fills the room, accompanied by your muffled snivels. you close your eyes and let your mind trace over the slightly blurred image of heeseung you see often in your dreams. you let it trace over his shoulders. you take a deep breath, and try to put those dark thoughts aside. a smile climbs up your lips.

loving heeseung is a wild ride. it’s like your eyes met his’, and the stars sighed in admiration. when you kissed him for the first time, your body gravitated towards him like those rides at the fun fair, where you’re spinning so fast that the motion fixes you to the wall. love chimed in your laughter, in the sense of wonder you found in each other. if you had your doubts, then time had told you otherwise. you and heeseung were a symphony of melody and melancholy, but it takes two to sing a duet.

‘remember when we fought and you left to live with your parents for a whole month? that was hell for me.’ you want to tell him that it was hell for you too. even though it was you who suggested that you both should take a break, you’ve spent nights spilling tears on your pillow, living on the edge with your mind contemplating you to call him. ‘the day you left, i went through all my old journals, frantically looking for my first mention of you. i know it sounds stupid, but i was scared. what if you never return— that was my first thought.’

‘people are right when they say we don’t know what we have until it’s gone and god, those thirty days made me realise how important you are to me. i know i can be a handful at times, and i end up lashing out for no reason at times. goodness, i wouldn’t even date myself but you, yn, thank you for choosing to stay.’

it was your second anniversary when heeseung had the worst breakdown. he had woken up from a nap, exhausted with puffy eyes due to the soccer match lost the same morning. he thinks it’s embarrassing to cry, heeseung believes it makes him look weaker than he already is. he hates to have you console him, wiping tears off his cheeks, cradling him in your arms like a toddler. heeseung doesn’t hate you, he hates how you were always there for him when all he ever did was give you a mere half of what you gave him.

heeseung believes there’s penance in yearning. there’s poverty in giving too much of your heart. when your desire for another is not returned in equal measure— nothing in the world could compensate for the shortfall. sometimes, the loneliest place to be in is love. between all the memories, through hugs and kisses, amidst all the i love yous that were shared, he knew you’re too for him. so, heeseung gave you numerous opportunities to leave; to hurt him like everyone before you did. but instead, you’d hold him dear, a little closer to your heart every time you hugged, a little deeper into your mind everytime you kissed, as if you were telling him to blather about his insecure mind that kept nagging him regarding all the things he couldn't do and, you'd explicate how exquisitely it told him lies that he believed.

you sniff, wiping tears with the sleeves of your clothing, wondering; ‘what about people who do know?’ because you knew. you knew you loved heeseung more than anything else, knew that he was your world— and still is— and good god, you tried your hardest to hold onto him. little by little, corner by corner, even if all you had was a fragile thread to tie your heart with his, you did. you never took a damn thing for granted; not him, not his love, not his antics— nothing. so, losing him, you wonder, isn’t it so much worse for you?

‘i’d like to marry you, someday. as in, soon, very soon. and it’s not only because i love you. it’s because i don’t think i can love anyone else the way i love you. besides, the thought of a mini you running around the house doesn’t sound bad.’ your eyes flutter open at his confession, tears resting on your lashes like pearls shining in moonlight. you could feel his lovestruck smile from the words he recorded.

heeseung loved kids, always. if there was a reason why you’ve spent your sundays looking after your cousins— on popular demand from heeseung, of course— it’s because he loved spending time with them. the sound of tiny feet pacing up and down your house, innocent giggles spinning in the air along with heeseung’s poor jokes. ‘you’d be the best dad,’ you remember telling him, and you could’ve sworn, heeseung’s eyes shone brightest then.

he says it’s ‘the heeseung effect’ because coincidently, even your neighbour's son has heeseung’s eyes. same colour, same passion, it reminds you of him. apparently, you’re his favourite after his mother. you were heeseung’s favourite too, after his mother. it’s sweet, but it hurts so much because there’s a glimpse of him in everything around you. you see the stranded pieces of memories floating by in every thing, and the worst part of holding memories isn’t pain, it’s loneliness. because memories are supposed to be shared, and you’re all by yourself.

‘i’m running out of things to say,’ he sighs, another trail of silence following. you’re running out of tears. ‘how did i manage to have you love me, yn? you’re too good for me, gosh, i don’t deserve you, not at all.’ your heart escalates a little, hands dying to hold his face for the last time and tell him how wrong he is. heeseung looks down on himself, but you want to hold him close, cupping his cheeks as you plant soft kisses on his face, telling him that behind his precarious mind, there’s a murmur of love. you want to trace his cold fingers with your lips, reciting tales of all those moments he made you feel like the happiest person alive. you want him to know that he holds your heart in his trembling hands, and you feel safe. his touch is sweet like honey drizzled strawberries, kisses like the first blooms of a cherry blossom.

you want to tell him that even if he feels like he doesn’t deserve you, he has you nonetheless. he always did, even when the world wasn’t. you don’t know where it comes from, all this love that you possess for him. you don’t know where to put it now that he's gone.

‘can you promise me one thing?’ your ear perks up at his request, though of no use now, probably. ‘promise me that you will never settle for less than what you give. i know i shouldn’t even be talking about this but yn, you deserve the whole world, even more. thank you for keeping up with me, tolerating me; thank you for not leaving like everyone else. and if you ever choose to leave, promise me that it’ll be for someone better than me.’

last night, you had a dream that felt like a memory. like a glimpse of what could’ve been crossed signals from another life. where instead of all this, you had heeseung. life was exquisitely simple, and you were desperately happy. just when you have convinced yourself that you’ve learnt to live without heeseung, you’re pulled back into the endless spiral of all the feelings you harbour for him. he’s someone you keep in your heart. settling for someone else isn’t even an option; loving someone else isn’t even a possibility. because you can tell that you only love once. anyone who claims to have loved twice in their life— they have not loved at all.

‘and i promise i’ll be there for you no matter what,’ he whispers and it feels as if he’s right next to you, holding you into a warm embrace, whispering sweet nothings to you just the way he did. another tear traces down your cheek, the sound of shuffling shoes emerge from the recorder, marking your arrival from. you hear him shift on the bed, and he mutters a last message before the tape goes silent. ‘let’s make it till forever.’

just like that, lee heeseung breaks another promise, leaving you with a broken heart, and the tears come back.

taglist in the rbs.

wooow such a cool concept OMGGGG

and its written so well too

im not rlly sure i understand their (readers nd the boys) soul flame conncetion tho? she cant feel the emotions? but she can understand them, yet, cant read their thoughts?

is it because reader hasnt rlly accepted the soul flame yet?

i hope we get to see more of mel as well :D

Set My Soul On Fire [ 1 ] | 18+

Summary: The chances of meeting your soul flame were almost one in a eight billion, the only way of knowing you were a match? You had to happen to be in close proximity of each other, so how were you ever to find your one true flame when they possibly lived halfway around the globe. When you find out you matched with not one but four members from the biggest boy band in the world, you weren’t sure if you were incredibly lucky or headed for devastating heartbreak, but you were willing to find out.

Rating: 18+

Genre: idol!au, smut, angst, fluff

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, Taehyung x Reader, Jimin x Reader, Namjoon x Reader

Status: Ongoing

Word Count: 6.7k+

Warnings: Explicit language, dom!jungkook, dom!jimin, dom!taehyung, dom!namjoon, sub!reader, smut, depictions of violence, possessiveness, polyamory, mentions of blood, anxiety, insecurities, trauma, jealousy, sexual tension. 

Author’s Note: More warnings to be added in later chapters. This is my first fanfic I’m sharing with the public, so please be kind. I’m working on becoming a better writer, for now sometimes this might seem like a jumbled mess, but practice makes perfect! Hopefully I can at least convey the stories I want in the best way I can. This is all fictional. 

Soul Flame | noun

A being with which you share a bond that cannot be broken.

A being who can feel their mates feelings and thoughts.

Soul Flames came into existence shortly after I had entered middle school, I can still remember the news reports blasting across every channel. You couldn’t turn on the television, radio or even walk down the street without being bombarded by the news. 

“Real or Fake?! First existence of soul mates discovered in Europe!”

“New phenomenon discovered, scientists have named Soul Flames!”

Soul Flames were people you instinctually bonded with, but the catch was only one person would be able to feel their soul flame initially, and only when they were within a short distance of each other. Scientists were still trying to figure out why only one person in the bond would be able to feel what the other person was feeling upon first meeting. Once the bond was complete with your soul flame the other bond would be able to feel their thoughts and feelings. The term Soul Flame came from what happened open mating, I guess each bond had a unique “flame” when they mated, the soul flames had described it as a colorful aura that enveloped them and created a feeling, which of course, couldn’t be described by anyone other than the bonded as it wasn’t visible to the naked eye. This in itself made the idea of soul flames a lot for people to believe in, seeing is believing after all.

Everyone went a little crazy after the first announcement, running around getting as close to anyone they found remotely attractive to see if a bond would appear. After the first month though was when things really started to turn sideways. Without having any visible way of telling who was truly your soul flame, people started using this to their own advantage. Lying about being someone’s soul flame to get them to sleep with them, steal from them or worse. As quickly as a year from announcing the first bonded pair, the term Soul Flame had become synonymous with ghosts and Bigfoot, something the government would rather sweep under the rug then acknowledge.

When you had to be in such a short distance of your soul flame to even find one, how in the 8 million people in the world would you ever meet such a person, if they even existed?

Keep reading

thank u for reminding me that this fic exists 😭 i’ve had my period for like 2 and 1/2 weeks now (bc i kept forgetting to take my birth control and now my cycle is all fucked up) so when i saw this i instantly went and read it again!!

deep end (explicit)

genre: pwp / domestic-ass smut hehe 💕

pairing: namjoon x reader (ft. no gendered language! bc lots of people get periods!)

summary: your boyfriend suggests a new way to relieve your period cramps.

word count: 4.2k

contains: explicit sexual content ~*~*~ established relationship, boyfie joon in a hoodie/glasses/with stubble (yes that's a warning), they use the term 'baby' a lot because it's me writing joon duh, some minor implications that menstruation is gross (from reader) (buuuut they get over it lol), 🩸period sex🩸, nipple play, fingering and clit stim, joon has a monster cock bc of course he does, size kink, bulge kink, he's all up in their cervix, reader has a.... cervical orgasm which might just be an a-spot orgasm my googling was inconclusive whatever none of you care - a good mix of fluff and playful bickering, the ending is soft 🫠

A/N: JOON HOES I HAVE RETURNED FOR YOU 🫡 it's been too long, so please take one of my favorite things i've ever written as my very sincere apology. idk this really just flowed out (no pun intended ksdjhgdfsdf) and i had a lot of fun with it, i heart bodies doing body things yknow. shout-out to my period for being extra bad last month and inspiring this.... it's called MANIFESTING amiright besties 💅✨ i hope y'all enjoy!!!! would love to hear your thoughts if you did 🥺💜

and all the love in the world to @haliiimede for betaing and being my emotional support capricorn, where would i be without you my love

read on AO3 !

~*~

The hinges of the bedroom door creak softly as it’s pushed open, and you glance up.

You’re where you’ve been for as long as social responsibilities will allow you to hide from the world and futilely attempt an afternoon nap: curled up on your side, knees pressed tight to your chest, gritting your teeth through each fresh round of stabbing pain. It’s worse than usual this month, for no discernible reason, which is stupid.

Namjoon leans against the doorframe, domestic-cozy-cute in the way that usually makes you want to jump him, glasses and a hoodie. He can’t help but smile sympathetically when he notices your arms are wrapped around an emotional support Koya plushie.

“You okay?”

You wince. “Cramps. I’ll be fine.”

There’s a flutter of mattress springs and bed sheets as he sits down at your side. “Is today the worst of it?” You nod. “Did you take your stuff?”

You smush your cheek against the top of Koya’s head, nuzzling into the soft fabric, tactile comfort. “Yes.”

“Extra-strength?”

“Yes, Joon,” you snap. “I’ve been having periods since I was twelve, I know what I’m doing.”

“Okay, baby.”

You feel guilty as soon as the exasperation-tinged words leave your mouth. “Sorry. I’m being an ass. Just… fucking hurts.”

He tries again. “Heating pad?”

“Worked for a bit, but I got too hot.” Your feet kick frustratedly under the blankets. “I’m ready for winter.”

Namjoon laughs at this. “Does that mean too hot for some company?”

The corners of your pouted mouth just barely start to pull up as you pretend to think it over. “…No.”

“Okay then.” He pushes back the sheets to slide in next to you, removing his glasses and reaching over to deposit them on the nightstand. He smells good, clean laundry and woody cologne. You don’t fight him when he moves to gently pry Koya out of your hands.

“Get out of here,” he murmurs, and you laugh in surprise when he unceremoniously flings the plushie across the room.

“Hey!”

“We don’t need him,” Namjoon says with a smug smile as he adjusts the blankets so he can settle in behind you.

Just the presence of him pressing into your back, big and solid and familiar, makes you start to unwind. His hand slips under your oversized t-shirt to rest on your low belly, fingertips dipping beneath the band of your underwear to gently trace over your skin. The warmth is nice— you feel yourself melt a little under his touch.

“You know what’s good for cramps?” He asks softly. You hum a response, prompting him to continue, and he does. “Orgasms.”

With a sigh, you turn your head to press your face into the pillow. “Vibrator’s dead.”

“Do you want me to plug it in?”

You make a sound that isn’t a clear yes or no, debating internally, then finally answer. “Don’t leave.”

He doesn’t. “What can I do then?”

The answer is immediate, paired with a dry laugh. “You can put me out of my misery.”

Namjoon shakes his head, tuts a little. “Can’t do that. But maybe I can help another way.”

The hand on your stomach slowly starts to slide further up, over your waist and rib cage, coming to cup one of your breasts. He gives it a tentative squeeze. “Sore?”

You shrug. “A little.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

His thumb starts to move, tracing slow, lazy circles over your nipple, coaxing the soft bud to a peak.

You let your eyes flutter closed and allow this sensation to overtake the others, enough to pull an appreciative noise out of you. “Nnh— feels good.” Your voice comes out nearly a whisper.

“Good.”

He wiggles his hips a little in response, and you can’t help but laugh when you feel something firm press against your ass. “How are you hard right now?”

“I don’t understand the question.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re still smiling, and you shift to turn onto your back so you can see him properly. It doesn’t hurt that it also gives him a better angle to play with both of your breasts— a second hand quickly finds its way up your shirt. “Everything turns you on.”

Namjoon shrugs, unbothered. “With you, yeah.”

“But…” You shift your legs vaguely under the sheets, knowing he’ll understand what you mean. “It’s gross.”

“How?”

The feeling of his fingers gently flicking over both of your nipples simultaneously makes your brain lag. “Uh— dirty.”

“Not true.”

Your eyes flutter shut again as you try to keep up with the conversation despite the heat of arousal that’s starting to swell in your gut, and lower. “Okay, messy.”

“All sex is messy,” Namjoon says, like it’s a given.

You huff a noise of frustration, glancing over at him. “Stop being obtuse. It’s different.”

“I’m not,” he insists. “It just sounds like you have some unnecessary shame. It’s a natural thing.”

“Natural,” you deadpan back. “You’re a hippie.”

He smiles. “Maybe.”

The admission is paired with a light pinch to your nipples, and you inhale sharply, biting back a whimper. “A freak.”

His laugh is soft and deep. “Sure. Have you fucked on your period before? I know we haven’t, but— ever?” You shake your head into the pillow. “Might feel good. They say it helps.”

You scoff at this. “Yeah, I bet ‘they’ all have dicks.”

“We don’t have to.”

Namjoon pauses, as if waiting for you to make a decision. You can’t ignore the way his hands on your tits have worked up a steady pulse between your legs.

“…You’ve done it before?” You squeeze your thighs together as you ask the question.

He shrugs. “Yeah.”

“And it wasn’t gross?”

“No, baby. It’s just a—”

“Do not say fluid,” you interrupt with a grimace.

He quirks an eyebrow. “An output.”

“Actually, I think that’s worse.”

A smile blooms on his face, dimples popping, his hands jiggling your breasts. Playful. “It’s free lube.”

You laugh despite yourself. “We’ll mess up the sheets.”

“We’ll put down a towel,” he corrects. “And if we do, I’ll wash them.”

You pause for a moment, considering. “Promise?” There are few things more torturous than the idea of doing laundry on your period.

“Yes, baby,” Namjoon assures you, his gaze roaming over your face. “But I don’t wanna force you. If you feel that bad, let’s just watch a movie.”

You narrow your eyes at him, unable to hide your smile. “Nuh-uh.” You scoot a little closer, rolling in to hitch a leg over him, your socked foot teasing up the back of his calf. “You played with my tits too much. No turning back now.”

The answer makes him cocky, his tongue briefly toying at the corner of his mouth when he smirks. “I’m not scared.” His voice is deeper, darkened by lust, enough to send a shiver through you.

You tilt your jaw up towards his mouth. “Kiss me.”

His lips are soft and warm when they press to yours, and you tip onto your back again, his knees and forearms sinking into the mattress as he follows to cover your body with his.

Your palms slip under his hoodie to slide up over the smooth, defined muscles of his stomach, the broad expanse of his chest. His tongue flutters over your lower lip, and your hands trace back down to the hem, bunching the thick fabric up in your fists.

“Take this off.”

Namjoon smiles against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, his hands still pawing under your shirt. “Bossy today.”

You tug at his hoodie again for emphasis, earning a pinch to your nipples in response. “You like it.”

“I do.”

“Off.”

He sits up on his knees, untangling himself from under your shirt to strip, and you do the same. You can see the imprint of his dick already straining against the thin fabric of his joggers, and you reach up to slip your fingers under the waistband, running your palm down the length of him over his briefs. There’s a new kind of ache in your core now.

“These too.”

He laughs a little. “Okay, baby. And do you wanna—”

You follow his gaze to stare down at your own sweatpants. “Yeah, let me just. Bathroom.”

Namjoon leans forward, so his mouth ghosts over yours when you sit up. “I’ll get the towels.” He sucks gently on your bottom lip when he kisses you. It’s enough to leave you breathless.

You do your best not to overthink it as you slip into the bathroom and go through the motions. Sweatpants off, underwear too, pad discarded, attempt to clean up a little. You move fast, trying not to leak. The blankets are pushed to the foot of the bed when you return to the bedroom, brown towels laid over the sheets, even a box of tissues on the nightstand.

Namjoon has kicked off his pants and underwear, one hand lazily pumping himself as he turns to face you, muscles in his forearm shifting from the motion.

You lick your lips appreciatively. His cock is flushed dark, hard, already wet at the tip. The thought of him dripping precum just from setting out towels and tissues makes you giggle a little as you climb into bed— a Virgo through and through.

The mattress shifts as he crawls over you, letting go of himself to trace a slow hand up your thigh, over your hip, to finally settle at your waist. “Still okay?”

You nod and pull him down.

He kisses you more fervently this time, and you tilt your head to lick into his mouth, your breath edged with a moan when your tongues pass over each other. You run your hands along his back, nails scratching gently, as his lips move to brush against your jaw, then nibble at your ear.

“How do you want it, baby?” Namjoon’s voice goes straight to your cunt, thick and dripping like honey.

Your mind swims as you try to answer the question, and you instinctively bring your knees to your chest, not unlike the way you were curled up in bed earlier. You pull them apart a little, spreading yourself for him, nowhere to hide. Heat blooms in your face as his eyes trace your body down to your pussy, and he hums softly.

You suck in a breath at the barely-there brush of contact, his slender fingers tracing over your folds. “Is it bad?”

“It’s perfect. It’s you.” You bite down on your lip, not quite willing to believe it’s that simple. “Can I touch you?” You nod again. He groans a little in the back of his throat when he presses in. “Fuckin’ wet.”

“Joon,” you gasp. Your cunt flutters around his finger, tender, as if to suck him further in. He adds a second, sliding easily, and you can feel the way he curls inside to pet long strokes over the ridges of your front wall, made supple from sensitivity. The pleasure sends a shower of sparks through you, and your spine arches. You squeeze your eyes shut as they roll back in your skull.

“This okay?”

You reach up to dig your fingernails into his arms, his biceps flexing under your touch. “’Sgood, baby. More.”

“More fingers?”

You shake your head, eyes flickering open to meet his. “Cock.”

It’s both dirty and domestic, doing it in broad daylight, the bedroom drenched in mid-afternoon sun that pours between the cracked window blinds. No shadows to disguise it, no questioning the color painted over Namjoon’s fingers when he withdraws, dark red.

Your discomfort feels like an afterthought compared to how badly you want him now. He pauses to wipe the excess off on the towel beneath you, free hand guiding the still-slick tip of his cock to brush over your folds, teasing.

You can’t help but whimper. “Baby.”

With a soft grunt, he does it again, more purposefully now— the whole of this thick cock grinding over your slit, both of you smeared messy with arousal and flushed warm from blood-flow.

You press yourself up on your forearms in time to see him wrap his hand around the base and slide it in. He pushes slow, but you’re wet enough that he can slip right to the hilt without resistance, and your jaw goes slack as you watch all of him disappear up inside you.

“Ah, Joon—” you hiss a little as he bottoms all the way out, fucks in until there’s no space left between you.

He stills his hips, eyes flitting up to find yours. “Hurts?”

You shake your head and whine softly. The stretch was easier than normal, actually. “Just, nnh— full.” Letting your head drop back on the pillow, you breathe a laugh. “You’re fucking big.”

He’s nearly wincing. “You’re swollen, baby. Makes it feel like more.”

The pressure of being filled blooms thick, indulgent, a sensation you can feel all the way down to the soles of your feet, every inch of you plugged up with his cock. You lick your lips and try to speak.

“Can you move?”

Namjoon flashes a dimpled smile, suddenly shy. “Hang on.” He scrunches his nose a little, eyes rolling up briefly to fix at a spot on the wall behind you. You can hear the strain in his voice. “Trying not to come.”

Your eyes go wide. “Really? Are you a teenager?!”

He huffs an indignant laugh, face flushing. “It’s like a fucking flood down there! And you’re extra tight… So damn, give me a second.”

Giggling a little, you reach up to loop your arms around his shoulders, fingernails lazily scratching at the nape of his neck, combing through his dark hair that’s gotten so long. He exhales a slow stream of air as he closes his eyes for a moment, then blinks them open again with a smile.

“Okay. You okay?”

You hum. “The pressure is… it’s good. Think it’s helping.” Your cramps have started to subside, or at least you’re not focused on them.

“It’s not too much, all the way in like this?” He circles his hips experimentally, which makes the head of his cock press firmly against your cervix.

“Fuck,” you hiss, and you feel him reflexively start to pull out, paired with a concerned look flashed over his face. You smack a hand to his lower back to stop him, to hold him still.

“Please, Joonie, don’t— it felt good. Just, ah, keep doing that.”

“You squeezed me so hard. Thought I hurt you.” He rolls his hips again and you both groan softly. “Shit, baby, look down.” Namjoon’s voice is slightly hoarse.

You tilt your head up to see an unmistakable bulge in your lower abdomen that shifts as he ruts his hips into you again. You gasp at the rush of pleasure and the visual of his cock so deep inside you.

“You like that?” You swallow hard and nod at his question, whimpering as he brings one hand up to gently press down around his girth. A mixture of pleasure and relief floods through you, and you moan. “Like it when I’m in your stomach, baby?”

Your head drops back against the pillow. “Fuck” is the only answer you can give as he keeps moving his hips.

It takes you by surprise when you feel the brush of his lips over yours, and you tilt up to deepen the kiss instinctively. “So damn sexy,” he murmurs into your mouth. For a minute, you let the rest go, and allow yourself to believe him.

Namjoon falls into a consistent rhythm, cock grinding into your cervix so steadily that it makes it impossible for you to bite back your moans. He keeps one hand splayed over your stomach to meet himself there, and your cunt squeezed in between feels liable to overflow, on the verge of splitting open.

“Nnh, shit, Joon, that feels so good.” It’s like he’s pressing up on your lungs now— you can hardly breathe, dizzy with pleasure. 

Fucking is somehow more intimate this way, taking him as deep as you can go and keeping him there, his shallow flutter-thrusts rocking slow and heavy for your shared sensitivity. Trading lazy kisses and stilted breaths and pretty sounds into each other’s open mouths. The press of his broad hands into your skin and the towel-guarded mattress, the wet squish of your folds on the base of his cock.

“God,” Namjoon groans, breath ghosting over your lips. “This perfect fuckin’ pussy.”

Without warning— or maybe in response— your walls start to pulse, and then the dam of steadily built-up pleasure bursts, a rush so intense that you can only gasp and dig your nails into Namjoon’s shoulders. “Joon, Joon—” You clarify when his brow creases with concern: “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You think you might die if he does.

He keeps going, barely-there strokes that rub the thick head of his cock into you over and over, and you cry out as you come fully undone.

A strange new feeling lights you up like a live wire, warmth radiating through your body as contractions squeeze your pussy so tight you swear you see stars when you close your eyes.

Namjoon curses under his breath, your whole body shaking beneath him as he works this surprise orgasm all the way out of you, until your thighs reflexively pull together and he stills his motions again.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, turning your head to press your cheek into the pillow. You slowly start to come down through the aftershocks, a lingering buzz glittering in your fingertips from the weight of his cock still crammed up inside you.

Namjoon’s large hands pet up the backs of your thighs, trailing soft heat. “You good, baby? That was crazy.”

“I-I just—” You exhale in an attempt to catch your breath, and it turns into a laugh as your eyes flicker open. “I didn’t know I could come from that. Fuck.”

He cracks a smile. “Sensitive. How’s it feel?” He leans forward to seek a kiss and you return it, nuzzling along the line of his jaw once you break apart. His stubble drags against your cheek, not unpleasant, and you shiver a little.

“I don’t know, I just had a crazy fucking… cervix orgasm,” you tease. “I’d say it’s pretty good.”

“Just don’t want it to hurt.”

“It doesn’t,” you murmur into his mouth. “So fuck me?”

You both moan when Namjoon begins to properly move, thrusting slow and deep-deep, your pussy clinging tight to him on the upstroke. You’re wet enough to gush when he fucks back in— just the sound of it makes your head spin. Your clit aches, so worked up untouched that it’s starting to throb.

“Baby,” you whine. “Touch me. Wanna come again. Please.”

He hums a soft noise of surprise, eyebrows raising, hips worked up to a steady rhythm now. “Already?” His lips press to yours again, and a sly smile spreads across them as he pulls back. “Needy.”

You huff a laugh, leaning up for another kiss, insatiable. “I said please.”

Namjoon earns a whimper out of you this time when his tongue swipes into your mouth, and he’s a little breathless when he breaks away. “I like you needy. I’ll keep you in this bed all day, if that’s what you want.”

“I—nnh—” you lose the thread of mid-sex conversation entirely as he shifts to free one hand and bring the pad of his thumb to your clit, flicking down firmly at a pace to match his strokes. “Fuck, Joon.”

Your hands grasp at the pillow beneath your head, fingers sinking in to grip desperate. He’s pounding heavy into your g-spot now, your legs spread wide and back arched up to take it.

It’s so good, it’s overwhelming, warm glow all the way through you. Arousal drips from your cunt to make the squelch of his strokes even messier. His hips are unrelenting, and your thighs start to shake from the pleasure, amplified with every pass of his thumb over your clit.

“Just—” You can barely speak, have to gasp for air after the first word, “—just like that.”

“Baby,” Namjoon’s voice comes out hoarse, in the way it does when he’s close, too. The bed creaks from the weight of his strokes. “So damn tight, so soft, can you feel it?”

A whine and a nod are all you can manage. You can feel him everywhere, down to the details, the fat veins that run the length of his cock molded to your walls, pulsing velvet heat. Your cunt melts lush around him, wet and raw as he fucks you apart. He rubs you in time to bring you over the edge again, and you’re helpless to it, can only let out a strangled sob of a noise as you tense up and come hard.

Namjoon’s thumb keeps circling, hips keep rocking, working you through it and groaning low in his throat for the way your cunt clenches up around him. Your nails dig into the pillow as you shudder and gasp.

“That’s it, shit, baby. Tight little pussy, gonna make me come too, fuck.”

With a grunt of effort, he pulls out, one hand reaching down to stroke his cock as he comes, thick ropes of his release painting your stomach in milky gloss. Your cunt pulses around nothing, hot pleasure aftermath, twitching sensitive.

Fucked to oblivion, you collapse against the mattress, feeling spent and heavy-all-over. Your head is still spinning, enough that you’re only distantly aware of the way Namjoon’s ragged breathing softens at the edges and starts to dissolve into gentle laughter.

Your eyes blink open to see him leaning over you, reaching for the tissues on the nightstand.

“Good thing I grabbed these,” he remarks as he lifts up his red-stained palm.

You can’t help but gasp at the sight. “Oh my god, Joon.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up enough for a dimple to wink back at you as he goes through a couple tissues to clean himself up. “Relax, baby. It really doesn’t bother me.” He pulls a few more loose from the box to deal with the mess on your stomach. “Just wanna point out that you don’t mind when I come on you.”

You huff. Smart-ass. “It’s different.”

“Is it?” He challenges. “It’s just bodies being bodies. Byproducts of the human condition.”

You can’t quite hide your smile. “You’re a poet.”

“Maybe.” His clean hand smacks playfully against your thigh, jiggling the soft skin there. “Shower time.”

The whine that escapes you sounds pathetic, even to you. Movement of any kind feels impossible. “I won’t make it.”

“Come on.” You yelp and grab to wrap the towel beneath you over your waist as Namjoon scoops you up in an effortless bridal carry and heads for the bathroom. He turns the shower on with his foot as you cling to him for dear life, but he somehow manages not to drop you.

When he deposits you onto still-shaky legs, you let the towel drop to the bathroom floor. The water is scalding when you step into the shower, the way you both like it. Crowding you under the spray, he reaches for the washcloth and squirts a liberal amount of body wash into the fabric, infusing the steam with eucalyptus and mint. It feels like you can breathe a little deeper.

One large hand comes to your hip under the water as he works up a lather. “Turn around.”

You can feel the staining at the crux of your thighs, dry and sticky, as you shift unsurely in place. “Nnh,” you pout. “Can I rinse first?”

“Nope. Tryna take care of you, so let me.”

Scrunching your nose for dramatic effect, you turn for him. When the washcloth passes over your skin, his touch is so gentle, so immediately overwhelming, that emotion bubbles up before you can stop it. There’s nothing you can do to hide the way your shoulders start to shake as tears spill down your face.

It takes a second, and then you feel his motions slowly come to a stop. “Baby?”

You shake your head, embarrassed, bringing your arm up to wipe at your nose. “‘m fine. Emotional. Ignore me.”

“I can’t do that.” He rights himself, and the fingertips of his free hand trace the line of your jaw, encouraging your gaze to meet his. “Talk to me, please.”

Another fat droplet slides down your cheek, and his thumb catches it. You inhale, trying to catch your breath, and your chest shudders. “It just. Feels like too much, sometimes. Like I don’t deserve it.” You gesture broadly. “Everything, you. I don’t know.”

Namjoon frowns a little as he momentarily drapes the washcloth over the edge of the tub. “C’mon, don’t think like that.”

When he pulls you in, you allow yourself to sink into the embrace, tears flowing freely as his strong arms press you close. You know he’ll let you ride it out, the same way you do with him.

His lips brush over your hairline. “You’re good to me, wanna be good back,” he explains, voice low. “That’s all.”

Your cheek rubs against the hard plane of his chest as you nod.

“You’re so good to me, Joon. Too good.”

“Nah.” You don’t even have to look up to know he’s smiling— you can hear it in his voice. “You’re easy to love.”

"We need some fucking horses." -Hongjoong

READ MY RAD FRIEND’s RAD FANFICTION

A RADFICTION IF U WILL

no but seriously this fic is super awesome and I recommend it w ALL MY BEING

Chapter 14 of Dead Ringer is up!!!

check it out here

or start from the beginning here

DAMN THIS WAS SO GOOD. LIKE SO GOOD.

I see your hard work in it. Thank you for taking time.

"Jimin is edible" was the highlight really!🤣🤣

I loved it!!!

Pairing ➪ Yoonji x Y/n | Jimin x Y/n | Yoonji x Jimin x Seokjin

Word count ➪ 4.4k Words

Warnings ➪ authors horrible attempt at humor; mentions of blood and feeding; mentions of edible; not beta read;

Summary ➪ Y/n needs a place to stay as of yesterday. Her roommate bailed on her, she’s too far from her grandmother, and her boyfriend lives in a box with his best friend. The place she seems to find has everything; space, low rent, a short commute to her job, and seemingly nice roommates. But there are some things that are kinda weird. Like how her female roommate is up at all hours, and her male roommate mumbling about his plants yelling at him in the middle of the night. She can get through this, right?

A/n: Hey besties. I was meant to post this last month, but due to some things regarding my dad I couldn't really focus on much. Regardless though I am happy to get this out as an early present for Festa and for my own birthday. I'll continue 'Oh,baby' and should be posting a new part by the end of the month, at least I'm hoping to. As always feedback is appreciated, and if you would like to be added to the taglist please let me know.

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It hurt. Everything hurts. Namjoon could feel every last one of his nerve endings screaming in agony. His head was burning, and it was getting harder to think rationally. What was happening?

It felt like he was being moved in slow motion. He could feel the early fall breeze on his face, but also stiffness on his left side. Something was clawing at him, and he wanted it to stop. 

Namjoon could hear muffled sounds, and felt a sudden warmth enveloping his chest. His heartbeat was slowing down; he was scared.

There began to be gaps in Namjoon’s awareness. When he would come to, sounds were still muffled, but he could feel and smell. The young man could no longer feel his favorite indigo blue set. A sweeping warmth on his skin was quickly followed by the bite of the cold room. He could smell damp earth, incense, and Jimin’s mellow fabric softener.. Jimin.. Yes, it smelled like Jimin. It smelled like his sweet friend. Namjoon started to feel like he was floating, the pain had stopped. He no longer felt scared. Jimin was here. 

_

“What the fuck are we going to do,” Yoonji hissed. Jimin’s spell hadn’t worked to it’s perceived potential, they had a vampire fledgling in the younger’s work room, and they found out their newest roommate is potentially one of them. Shit was hitting the fan, and it was hitting hard.

The female vampire was having conflicting feelings about their current situation. While Yoonji was grateful for the small moment they got, she was petrified of the inevitable conversation they would be having; being sires, and that none of them were human. The elder vampire had contingency plans, having a few emails drafted if her current life would implode. Her parents taught her to be diligent, always being sure she had backups to her backups. If Yoonji, and her friends, had to hide in her Black Forest estate until this blew over, then so be it. But a small, hopeful, part of Yoonji wanted Y/n to accept them. She hoped their newest roommate wouldn’t be afraid of them. 

They liked their lives here; she loves her life here. Yoonji is teaching pupils that are as passionate as she is. Seokjin is doing more of what he wants, while doing the bare minimum with the council. Jimin was still relatively new, but he had quickly gained loyal regulars that kept him busy. Things had finally set into place, and it’s dissolving in front of them. Yoonji watched as Jimin paced around their small island, and Jin was slouched forward, laying his upper body on the cold tile of the island. 

If Yoonji focused enough she could hear the hissing of the hot water, and the clattering of Y/n’s products. The elder vampire could hear the shower stopping, and the clicking of nails to screen. 

Jin slightly perked up, “I think..we should be truthful.” 

Jimin halted, “Truthful, of what? Of us, what we are, are you insane?”

Seokjin slightly nodded, “She’s going to find out, one way or another. Your friend will wake-up within the next 36 hours confused, scared, and starving. As a new fledgling, everything will be amplified. Y/n has the right to know, to choose whether she wants to stay and witness that, or leave. The first few days of any newborn fledgling are brutal because of the thirst, and immense feeling of overstimulation. It’ll be frightening, even for you.” 

The witch scoffed, “I’ve been around fledglings, they’re not scary.” 

Seokjin narrowed his eyes at Jimin, highly unamused, “A newborn is different, they’re transitioning and everything is overwhelming to them. He won’t be the same person you remember him to be for a while. He’ll be constantly feeding, and losing control of himself. The slightest thing could set him off. If you’re not frightened by his unpredictability, then you’re a fool.”

Yoonji knew Jimin was aware of the changes that would be happening with Namjoon, she’d gone into detail of every fledgling transition she’s witnessed. Only one thing remained constant within those memories, fledglings were unpredictable. The female vampire saw as the tips of Jimin’s ears turned pink from Jinnie’s scolding, clearly embarrassed at being corrected. 

Their witchy roommate sighed, “Are we telling her everything? What we each are, and what’s going on with Joonie?”

“I think we should,” Yoonji said. Jimin nodded, busying himself with cleaning up the bag of O negative from their sink. He sighed deeply, “What if she freaks out..what if… What if she tells someone? Hunters are still a thing. What if they find you, or Seokjin? I wouldn’t be able to live if anything would happen to either of you.”

Seokjin rose from his seat, “Min..” He enveloped the witch from behind, gently tightening his hold to comfort him. Jimin sniffled, hesitantly turning around and reciprocating Jin’s hug. The older vampire wrapped an arm across the witch’s back, and another was cradling his friend’s head into his chest. Jin delicately played with Min’s hair, “Jimin, I know you’re scared, we’re scared too.” 

Jin redirected them towards the couch, clearly wanting to be comfortable during this stressful moment. Yoonji and Seokjin took the ends of the couch, not really giving Jimin any choice in arrangement. They settled in before the older vampire could continue. “A lot of things are happening too quickly, we can’t let ourselves be frightened,” Seokjin said. 

He gestures towards Yoonji, asking her to say something. “I can’t say nothing won’t happen, because it will, but we will work through it. Hunters..are an unfortunate consequence of our existence. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But what about Joonie,” Min asked, “what if anyone saw Jin jumping on him?”

“What happened with Namjoon was an accident, Jinnie didn’t attack him maliciously. He was trying to help, and an accident happened. If, for some reason, a hunter saw him we’d deal with it,” Yoonji responded. 

Jin nodded along, “We’ll be okay, we’ll work through it Min.”

The trio is huddled together, whispering, when Y/n walks into the living room. Seokjin signals Yoonji to turn towards the kitchen. She panics, stuttering a quirky greeting, “Hey, Y/n, um.. How’d you, uh, sleep?”

Y/n shrugged, “Eh, I guess, I don’t remember falling asleep.” 

Jimin nudged Yoonji to keep talking. She shook her head, too unsure how to carry this conversation. They watch the human make a cup of iced coffee, looking around for any piece of the witch’s pastries. Yoonji notices Y/n is in lounging clothes, and not in her regular jeans. She’s barefaced, and is allowing her hair to air-dry into their natural waves. Her cheeks are still pink from her morning shower, and she’s wearing her glasses today. 

The trio watches as their human roommate goes back and forth with each of her breakfast items to join them in the living room. She sits on the sofa chair on Jin’s side of the living room. 

Y/n sighs as she adjusts into place, takes a big sip of her coffee, and looks towards the trio, “Guys, I had the weirdest dream last night.”

“Weird dream? Like what,” Jimin asked. 

Y/n’s face scrunched up, “I dreamt that Jin got hurt. He was covered in blood, and he wouldn’t respond to me. There was a man at the doorway. I didn’t know him, but he was next to Jin and I was getting scared. I ended up passing out in-dream. Next thing I know, my alarms are going off, and I’m freaking out because I think I’m late for work, but I’m not late because my manager thinks that I’m sick and I don’t know what’s going on.”

Yoonji looked at Y/n in mild terror, she clearly remembered. The vampire gave her friends a look before she spoke, “Y/n.. we need to talk.”

The human looked at the trio worried slightly tilting her head. “Oh, fuck. Did I do something last night,” she rambled. “I mean, I ate an edible that’s probably why I passed out, but if I acted out of line I need you guys to tell me.” 

Yoonji sat stunned, struggling to contain her laughter. The vampire dug her nails into her thighs to keep herself from bursting, “You acted no weirder than you usually do on edibles.” Jimin bursted in a small fit of giggles. Seokjin looked between them, confused as to what an edible was. He gestured his confusion to Jimin, who gestured back that he’d explain later. 

The vampire covered her escaped chuckles with swift coughs. “No.. um.. That dream that you mentioned happened.” She watched as the human stiffened in her seat. “Last night Jinnie came home a bit.. Flustered. There was an accident, and he came home to get help..but there’s more to it.” Yoonji was starting to get uncomfortable, and she could see that Jin was staring at their carpet. “Please, listen to what we have to say.” 

Yoonji took a moment to collect her thoughts, when Seokjin took over, “Last night, I was walking around to waste some time, then I smelled something. I walked deeper into the park trail, desperate to find it. It smelled so good, I just had to see what it was. I thought it was a fox, or a small deer, they’re especially delicious this time of year, but instead I saw a human. He was bleeding from his knee, he said he was fine. Next thing I know my shirt is wet with blood, and the man is passed out. I’m freaking out because I’ve never done anything like this. I bring us back to the house. Yoonji, and Jimin try to help, but I can’t hear them because everything sounds muffled, and my skin feels clammy. I smelled when you came near me, and all I could think about was blood and how yours smelled good enough to be my next meal. I was scared, and Jimin was able to sedate me.” 

The elder vampire released a large sigh, as if a weight had been lifted from him. “When I bit the man, I accidentally released some venom in him. He’s currently transitioning into a vampire.”

Y/n looks at the trio, analyzing them. She takes a small bite from her breakfast sandwich, confusion riddling her face. The human gestured at them, “Are the three of you vampires?”

Jimin shook his head, “No, I’m a witch. I just moved here a couple years ago, and moved in a year and a half ago. Yoonji, and Jinnie are vampires. They’re currently part of a small group of vampires that pre-date the Joseon dynasty.”

Yoonji grumbled, hating being reminded of her age. She watched as the human continued eating her breakfast with a vacant look. To Y/n’s left Jin was trying his hardest to control his shaking leg, and was slightly chewing at the sides of his thumb. Next to him, Jimin was turning pink from the pressure of the situation. 

They watched as Y/n finished her breakfast, leisurely drinkin the last of her morning coffee. She turned to them, face slightly scrunched. “So let me get this straight, Yoonji and Seokjin are vampires. Jimin is a witch. Seokjin accidently got himself a vampire kid, and I almost got eaten until Jimin knocked out Seokjin.” The trio nodded, Y/n continued speaking, “Did I get knocked out too? Where’s the new vampire? I assume since you guys are, you know, you..that there’s more of you guys? I don’t know what to call you. It feels weird to call you supernatural, because what you are is normal to you guys, and oh my god, why am I making a big deal out of this?”

Jimin was intrigued, “Like Jin said, you got a little too close to him while he was a bit overwhelmed. You didn’t know, it’s no one’s fault. We didn’t know how to explain what happened, even when we didn’t fully know ourselves.” The witch watched the human nod along to what he was saying. “The new vampling is in my workroom, he’s transitioning in a safe environment, and will be properly supported by Jinnie and Yoonji. As for the umbrella label, that's fine. In our world we just call each other by our species names, humans wouldn’t know every one of us so it’s fine.”

Seokjin stared at the human with curiosity, he couldn’t decipher any emotions from her. He was perplexed and needed to know why she was so calm. “Are you not afraid,” he blurted out, “I confessed to wanting your blood as a meal, and you’re indifferent.”

Y/n was startled by Jin’s harsh statement. “As ridiculous as it sounds, yes and no. Yes, because of course with anything unknown, fear always accompanies it. No, well if you’d had wanted to hurt me, or worse eat me, you would’ve done so the first week of me living here. Maybe not even the week. Of course the possibility that you could’ve bit me frightens me, but you didn’t and I’m here now without any harm. At this point I just wanna ask questions about your species. As well as figure out who contacted my manager.”

Jimin looked at Y/n mildly guilty, “I called her after we had settled you into your room, and made sure both Jinnie and Joonie were sedated.”

“Who’s Joonie,” she asked. 

Jimin shifted in his seat, “Namjoon is the man that is currently in the workroom. Jinnie didn’t know who he was, it was a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

The human turned towards the elder vampire, “Why’d you attack him?” Yoonji could see Y/n was angry and confused. They had just spent time establishing they would never harm her, just to say an innocent human was attacked by one of theirs. 

Seokjin looked at their human roommate in shame, “I didn’t mean to.” He took a moment to take a few deep breaths, collecting himself back up. He looked at Yoonji, trying to gain courage from his longest friend. “Yoonie, is it okay if I talk about what happened a few weeks ago,” he asked. Yoonji nodded her consent, urging Jin to continue. “A few weeks ago Yoonji was sick, she was starving. I drank from a few donors to help her. Came home, helped her, then two days after I left for Mongolia to help with a territory dispute. During my two week stay there was a limited amount of blood we could consume, therefore only took what would keep us functional. When we came back I was denied entry to our donor wing. I called up my blood supplier, and while I waited for him to arrive, I found Namjoon. I didn’t attack him for fun, I attacked him because I was starving. For almost three weeks I was kept at the verge of hunger. I haven’t attacked a human since I was a small vampling.”

Y/n waved her hand at Jimin’s direction, “You called him Joonie.. Jimin, do you know him?”

The witch nodded, “I’ve been friends with Joon for about a year, he doesn’t know about what we are and our world. When Jin brought him home, I was so scared. I knew what happened just by looking at them. I’m upset that an innocent person is caught up in this, but I’m not upset at Jinnie. He was starving, and I know he wouldn’t have attacked anyone on purpose.” 

The human sat in her chair stumped, “Damn, and now your friend is a vampire? Seokjin mentioned venom, does that make you guys like the Twilight vampires? Do y’all sparkle in the sun, because I’ve never seen you guys in direct sunlight.”

Yoonji can feel an overwhelming feeling of ick consuming her. “No, no, no, no, please,” she pleaded. “Anything, but that. First off, in Twilight they aren’t vampires, they’re blood sucking Fae that give real vampires a bad name. Vampires don’t need to exchange blood to transform a human into a fledgling. Much like werewolves, vampires have a venom they can inject into humans to turn them into vampires.”

“Okay, cool, cool,” Y/n replied, “You still didn’t answer if you sparkled.”

Yoonji grew a little infuriated with the little query, “No, we don’t sparkle, only the Fae sparkle. We’re not Fae, we’re vampires! Real vampires, dammit!” 

Y/n clicked her teeth in disappointment, “Man, I was really hoping someone would say ‘this is the skin of a killer Bella’ for me.” The female vampire could feel her eye twitch in annoyance. ‘Twilight this, Twilight that. We’re way better than some snobby Fae,’ she thought. 

“What do you know about vampires,” Seokjin asked their human roommate. 

“I mean the pretty common tropes: aversion to holy objects, sunlight, garlic, mirrors, werewolves, silver, anything sharp that could strike the heart, decapitation, fire. ‘Think that’s it,” she answered. 

Seokjin chuckled, “I don’t know when that rumor of religious items started.”

“Probably when that Irish author wrote the Dracula book,” Yoonji piped up. 

“We tend to have light sensitivity in our early years,” the elder vampire explained, “Everything about us is more sensitive to help us catch prey.” Yoonji nods in agreement, continuing for her friend, “The garlic myth is just that a myth. Back when people were discovering spices they tended to go heavier, and let me tell you people weren’t as hygienic as they are now. Mix that with a sensitive nose and we made sure to keep ourselves away.”

“We also didn’t have an aversion to mirrors, some were just so horribly made lots of us didn’t bother,” Seokjin added. “You can still see our reflections on surfaces, and we film well. To keep ourselves safe is why we avoid any form of documentation via film and why the mirror and reflection myth started.”

“Werewolf bites are, unfortunately, deadly to us. Decapitation is kind of obvious, no one could survive that. As well as a stake to the heart,” Yoonji continued. “No silver aversion, again started by some old fart that considered himself a monster hunter.” She sighed trying to remember all of the things Y/n had asked about. She snapped her fingers, urging herself to remember. “Oh, fire obviously hurts, but it is not deadly to us.”

Y/n nodded along, “Alright cool, cool. Uh, so, what exactly is going to be done about the man/newly turned vampire.” Yoonji could tell their human roommate was trying to handle the onslaught of information with humor. “I don’t know about you guys, but this is my first time with a fresh out of the oven vampire. I don’t know what to expect. Should I even be here?” 

The human gestured towards Jimin and herself, “Should we even be here? I mean, I know Min is a witch, but still, he's still edible, right?”

Seokjin could no longer hold in his laughter, and neither could Yoonji. The vampires found amusement in the human’s worries. Jin could feel small tears forming at the corners of his eyes, and the worry he was carrying himself has started to melt away. “If you wanted to get technical, yes Jimin counts as being edible,” Yoonji says. Jimin scoffed, clearly unamused. 

Y/n mumbled in acknowledgement, she readjusted herself to be laying across the couch. She had a calculating look on her face, Yoonji could clearly see the human was trying hard to understand them. The vampire knew it was a lot, hell the small incident that was currently happening wasn’t even the worst in her and Seokjin’s long friendship. There was always a clusterfuck of things happening around them to the point they have agreed that come with the territory of being who they are within their society. 

Jimin excuses himself to check on Namjoon in the other room, Seokjin offering to go with him, just in case he says. The two women are left alone in the large living room. Yoonji doesn’t know if she should keep talking about what they are, or stay quiet as Y/n is clearly overwhelmed. 

Yoonji lets the human be, cleaning up the remaining dishes on the coffee table into the dishwasher. She fixes herself another blood infused coffee, happy she no longer has to hide her coffee cup. She goes back to the living room, settling back into the corner she was formerly in. 

Y/n doesn’t make a movement, or a noise for 25 minutes. She’s overwhelmed by the information given to her. Her roommates aren’t human, that much was established. There’s a man in the house currently turning into a vampire, and she almost got turned into a meal. What was racking her brain the most was, how did she never notice. 

Y/n always thought Seokjin was eccentric, lots of people these days love dressing up in vintage clothing. He’d be working at odd times of the day, but she chalked it up to it being the runner of the family business. He loved taking pictures of himself, and he always ate dinner with them. He always complained about the sun being too harsh, even on overcast days. He was always the first one up in the mornings, more times than not being the house’s wake-up call. She could never tell when he slept, and he never showed signs of being exhausted. He wasn’t that up to date with current pop culture, sometimes having to explain what a certain joke or meme meant. He didn’t use social media, only using an email that Yoonji had made him create. He still used a flip phone, because newer phones were too complicated, he had said. That was until his infamous pink flip phone officially bit the dust. Seokjin was a big eater, there had been days where he had ordered enough takeout for three. He traveled all the time, and never spoke of anything preventing him from going. 

Yoonji was the complete opposite. She was a bit of a night owl, and a reluctant early riser. Y/n would catch her drinking iced coffee from a large tumbler every day. The female vampire was sluggish, like she didn’t get enough sleep. She’s always avoided the sun, preferring to stay her pale shade, because she claimed to tan unevenly. She would spend hours working on rearranging pieces to her pupils playing level, as well as creating her own. Yoonji would eat meals with them, but she was more of a watcher than an eater. She’d always say she’d get full watching them eat their meals so well. She’s always up to date on memes due to her pupils, some days even repeating some of the new slang to them. Y/n had found out Yoonji likes to upgrade her electronics every couple years, funnily enough the female vampire had taken Jin to finally join them in the modern world with a brand new phone. Yoonji was always vocal about her distaste for Seokjin’s eccentric way of dressing. “Jinnie you’ve been using those pants since the first industrial revolution, please let them go,” She’d heard her say, now thinking back it could’ve been literal. 

Jimin reminded Y/n of her grandmother. She was a bit of an herbalist, and practiced small rituals that her mother used to do in her home. The little things would start to tip her off. Jimin was big on making his own tea blends, and enjoyed gifting a small amount to his returning customers. She’s seen Jimin read tea leaves, and tarot for his customers. He had done a big ritual with the change from summer to autumn. Hell, she remembered that Jimin had knocked her unconscious without so much as touching her. Everything had a purpose, even when one would think otherwise. She’s caught him talking to their plants more times than she can count. Jimin liked to keep the house safe, and she’d see him draw protective sigils around the property. The witch loved to bake, and insisted his pastries could cure anything. Y/n could feel the love, and care Jimin would fill his creations with. He always left the house with a small kit for foraging in his satchel, along with a notebook, and various small drawstring bags. 

More than anything she felt slightly guilty. She’d been basing her knowledge on vampires from ‘Twilight’, and ‘The Vampire Diaries’.  How was she supposed to know vampires apparently live in the outskirts of the city? With roommates? Maybe Taika Waititi was right, vampires are weird and a little reclusive. 

Y/n had a ungodly amount of questions for them:

How long have you been vampires?

Have you ever been dormant?

How long have you owned your current home?

Are you paying off a mortgage?

How is your skin still so silky smooth?

Do you sleep in a coffin, if so do you air it out?

Yet every question she came up with somehow felt more, and more like her brain running on fumes. Y/n would try to sneak glances at Yoonji, but somehow they kept making eye contact, must be vampire instinct. 

Upon having more of a look, Y/n realized the little things gave them away. Yoonji, and Seokjin always had claws, not human type nails. A few times a month she’d see Yoonji fixing her nails, and Jin’s. The permanent dark eye circles that gave away their lack of need for sleep. Yoonji had gone weeks without eating, but still looked relatively healthy when Y/n saw her again. They also carried themselves differently. Both vampires always seemed regal in the way they moved. Yoonji’s extensive knowledge in music should’ve been a dead give away, as well as Seokjin’s very extensive closet. 

But as much as she racked her brain, the more she thought of how they resembled people their age. Yoonji was in love with Kuromi, and had a whole corner dedicated to her collectibles. Seokjin might not be social media savvy, but he was always in the know about the trending restaurants and cafes. The eldest vampire would game for hours, if he had no responsibilities, while Yoonji was a big fan of the local aquarium. Even with the complaints about sun sensitivity, Seokjin was always a nice tan color that made him even more handsome. Though Yoonji looked scary, she actually hated horror movies, or anything of the horror genre. She was terrified of large bugs, and always had to ask Y/n or Jimin to get rid of the creepy crawlies. 

Nothing could’ve tipped her off. 

Fic Masterlist

⋆⭒˚.⋆ i heard - ʟɴ4 ☆

✿ lando norris x influencer!reader (everyone gasped)

✿ lando norris has a crush on a certain influencer and his friends are on a mission to help him get the girl

🝮

yn

📍los angeles, california

liked by pierregasly and 3,935,027 others

yn sun kissed 🌞

landonorris first

landonorris 😍😍😍

⤷ maxfewtrell 3 heart eyes??

flowers444yn what tf is lando norris doing in my gf’s comments?

lando.norizz he’s never beating the norizz allegations

alexandrasaintmleux let me take you out on my boat girl 🤤

⤷ charles_leclerc You mean my boat?

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux go away

⤷ yn i’ll be waiting 😉

zendaya Simply stunning 🤩

♥︎ by author

jacobelordi 😍

♥︎ by author

hearts4lando how do the wags know her?

⤷ ynsource she’s been invited to a few races by ferrari and mercedes so the wags must’ve introduced themselves there

judebellingham Beautiful 😍

♥︎ by author

⤷ yn 🥰

⤷ landowantsrizz STOP POOR LANDO CANT EVEN GET A LIKE 😭

lilymhe damn girl let me wife you up 🤤

⤷ yn please do 😫

🝮

yn

📍monaco

liked by landonorris and 5,902,528 others

yn monaco will always have my heart

landonorris first

♥︎ by author

landonorris can i have it next?

♥︎ by author

alexandrasaintmleux need your hair 😍😫

♥︎ by author

gigihadid i miss you gorgeous 💓

⤷ yn i miss you more 💘

francisca.cgomes why not the picture of you double cheeked up? 🤤🤤

⤷ yn kika 😭😭 please

pierregasly can i have my shirt that i did not know was missing until now back?

⤷ francisca.cgomes no she wears it better

⤷ pierregasly wow ok then.

michaelbjordan 😍

♥︎ by author

⤷ yn everyone SHUT UP IM GLITCHING

⤷ landolovesyn poor lando 😭😭

landonorris please just give me one chance

♥︎ by author

⤷ yn 😭😭

⤷ landonorris i’ll take that as a maybe 🥰

carlossainz55 I would like to apologize for lando’s behavior

⤷ yn nothing to apologize for, it’s cute

⤷ landonorris 🤩🥺🥰🤤😫😍😎🥳😱

⤷ charles_leclerc Don’t mind him, he doesn’t interact with women much…

⤷ yn i could tell

⤷ landonorris 😕😞🖤💔😖😪😢😣😔

⤷ oscarpiastri He’s genuinely tweaking rn

🝮

landonorris

liked by danielricciardo and 944,576 others

landonorris 🩷💜🤍💙🩵❤️

yn who’s all those hearts for?

⤷ landonorrris you. only you. always you.

charles_leclerc Lando looking for y/n

oscarpiastri Lando wondering where y/n is

alex_albon lando wondering what y/n is doing

alexandrasaintmleux lando thinking how to get y/n’s attention

georgerussell63 Lando thinking of y/n

carlossainz55 Lando thinking about all the gifts he’s could buy for y/n

lilymhe lando wondering how y/n slept

francisca.cgomes lando thinking of ways to impress y/n

maxfewtrell Lando wondering if y/n thinks he’s cool

🝮

yn

📍 somewhere in monaco

liked by pierregasly and 3,084,921 others

yn party of 1

landonorris first

♥︎ by author

landonorris can i make it a party of 2? :)

♥︎ by author

⤷ yn i wouldn’t mind ;)

charles_leclerc I heard lando norris saved a family of 6 from a house fire the other day

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux yeah i heard he also saved the family’s 3 dogs too

carlossainz55 Lando norris bought me a new custom ferrari yesterday

maxverstappen1 Shoutout to my boy lando norris for letting me win all those races your a real one mate

alex_albon I heard lando norris tipped 700 dollars for a 10 dollar coffee last week

oscarpiastri I heard lando norris bought 1000 dollars worth of food for a homeless shelter in Miami last year

⤷ georgerussell63 I heard he also donated a bunch of clothes to

lilymhe i heard lando norris payed for everyone’s meals at a restaurant last month

⤷ carmenmmundt Yeah I heard he does that all the time

⤷ francisca.cgomes i heard he gave 1 million to a small business today

danielricciardo Lando norris actually bought me my house

lewishamilton Lando norris bought my dog a thousand dollar blinged out collar

donatella_versace Donatella VERSACE💜

🝮

yn posted a story

replies

landonorris replied to your story

first 😁

yn as always honey

carlossainz55 replied to your story

does that party of 2 include a certain brit?

yn i don’t know who your referring to 🤔

lilymhe replied to your story

that bitch stole my girl

yn like you weren’t helping him 😭

carmenmmundt replied to your story

My little girl is growing up on me 😓

yn omg shut up 😭

francisca.cgomes replied to your story

that muppet better treat my girl right

yn don’t worry kika he will

alexandrasaintmleux replied to your story

ask him to buy you red bottoms i bet he will without thinking about it

yn stop he probably would 😭😭

🝮

landonorris posted a story

replies

yn replied to your story

you’re so cute

landonorris your the cutest 😉

you’re*

landonorris i’m sorry. you’re the cutest*

charles_leclerc replied to your story

Your welcome, I started that whole thing

landonorris thank you mate it’s very much appreciated

pierregasly replied to your story

Don’t trip mate

landonorris to late. i knocked on the door to her apartment and she invited me inside cause she was looking for her earrings and i tripped walking inside. and i did not catch myself in time.

your supposed to have fast reflexes mate 😭

landonorris yeah all that went out the window when i seen her

alexandrasaintmleux replied to your story

you better not let her touch any door handle, pull out her chair, hold her hand, give her your coat, and don’t let her peak at the bill

landonorris i wouldn’t dream of it

🝮

yn

liked by krisjenner and 11,935,776 others

yn i heard he ended world hunger or something?

landonorris first

♥︎ by author

landonorris sum slight yk

♥︎ by author

landonorris your so yummy baby 😍

♥︎ by author

charles_leclerc Once again, your welcome

⤷ yn no thank you

lilymhe damn does he not know how to keep his hands to himself?

⤷ landonorris you wouldn’t be able to if she was yours

francisca.cgomes i could treat you better

⤷ yn come over 😏

⤷ francisca.cgomes omw baby

⤷ landonorris oh!

⤷ pierregasly you get used to it

⤷ alex_albon over time you’ll just start to ignore it

⤷ charles_leclerc At a certain point you’ll have a good chuckle about it

⤷ georgerussell63 You learn to live with it

🝮

landonorris

liked by tomholland2013 and 6,213,095 others

landonorris i like when it’s you & i

yn first

♥︎ by author

yn 🤍🤍🤍

♥︎ by author

yn i like it too honey

♥︎ by author

carlossainz55 You did it cabrón 🥳

⤷ landonorris i manifested this shit

lilymhe cutest 😍 y/n not lando.

⤷ landonorris hatin for what 🤣🤣

danielricciardo Lando norris did it

⤷ charles_leclerc He got the girl

⤷ arthur_leclerc crazy son of a bitch

alex_albon bro beat the norizz allegations

⤷ georgerussell63 I guess it’s time to retire lando norizz 😞

alexandrasaintmleux she was mine first.

⤷ landonorris and now she’s all mine 🤤

maxverstappen1 This calls for celebration!

⤷ pierregasly to the club!

oscarpiastri I already can’t stand you two

francisca.cgomes she curved michael b jordan and jude bellingham for a white guy…

⤷ landonorris stay mad 🥱

mclaren Welcome to family y/n! 🧡

♥︎ by author & yn

This ecene guys

The revelation, It’s so good it always gives me shivers.

From another deception by @mamzellesouris

Megatron would be sure to come for him soon, or his trine would come to get him out, he just had to wait. Megatron would never truly abandon him, he was far too valuable.

He just had to wait.

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐄

pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: gojo offers to help you get the attention of your crush, but things don't turn out the way either of you expectgenre: college au, friends (?) to lovers, fluff, no angstnotes: gojo is kinda dumb idk, shoko and geto know he's stupidwc: ~5.8k

"So, Geto Suguru, huh?"

You furrow your eyebrows as you look up from your book, meeting the bright blue eyes of none other than Gojo Satoru.

"I'm sorry?" you ask, tilting your head in confusion. Gojo chuckles lightly, booping your nose as he takes a seat next to you.

"Cute," Gojo comments, snorting when you swat his hand away. "But really? Geto? He's a little too boring for you, don't you think? You're kind of super out of his league."

"I have no idea what you're taking about, Gojo," you say, carefully placing a bookmark between the pages of your book before closing it and setting it down next to you.

"You can call me Satoru if you'd like. I don't mind," he says, leaning back on the grass and basking in the sunlight. You stare at him dully, still confused by the entire situation. He grins when he notices your expression.

"What do you want, Gojo?" you ask, watching him pout at your use of his last name. He brings a hand up to his heart, pouting at your tone before breaking out into a large smile. You look away, slightly annoyed by your white-haired classmate.

"Geto? Suguru?" he repeats, bringing his hands up to form air quotation marks. "You know, 'the only one who's ever made my heart race and palms sweat', that Geto Suguru?"

Your jaw drops at his words, and you whip your head around to give him a disbelieving look. He's wearing a smug smirk as he returns your stare, one eyebrow raised in a way that lets you know that he's heard everything you've said about his best friend.

"Where did you hear that?" you hiss, grabbing your book and shoving it into your bag. You feel your heart pounding as you rise to your feet, brushing your clothes off before crossing your arms and staring at Gojo.

"You really should choose more private places to have such conversations," Gojo replies, standing up as well and brushing his hair back with his hand. "You weren't exactly being quiet when you were speaking with Shoko."

"So what is it that you want?" you ask, a scowl working its way onto your face. "Do you want me to do your chemistry homework in exchange for your silence or something?"

Gojo's smile never falters, unnerving you the slightest bit as he walks up to you before grabbing your bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"No, of course not! What kind of student do you think I am?" he asks, pushing his sunglasses up with one hand as he wraps his other arm around your shoulders. The two of you begin walking towards a nearby lecture hall, and you find yourself tensing up the longer you remain under his hold. "You see, lately Geto has been getting on my case about every little thing. Between you and me, I think that having someone to focus his attention on can be beneficial for both of us. So I'm here to offer my assistance to get Geto to notice you!"

You come to an abrupt stop, causing the white-haired boy to halt as well. He looks at you curiously, confused by your sudden actions. You remain quiet as you reach for your bag, tugging it away from him with a tight-lipped smile.

"Thanks for the generous offer, Gojo, but no," you say, annoyance tinging your words. Gojo nearly flinches when he notices your stony gaze, and he chooses to remain silent as you begin to walk away.

"If you change your mind, let me know!" he calls out after you, this time actually flinching when you turn around to send him a sharp glare. he chuckles to himself once you're out of sight, sighing to himself and preparing to face an irritated Geto once more.

"You know, you're not subtle with your staring."

Your nose scrunches unconsciously as Gojo plops down in the seat next to you, and you choose to pick at your food in an attempt to ignore his presence. His sudden appearance earns you a questioning look from Shoko, who's currently sitting across from you and giving Gojo the occasional irritated look.

"Ah, hello Shoko," Gojo greets, nodding his head at his friend. He places his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his palm as he reaches over to steal a fry off her plate. "It's been a while."

"I saw you this morning," Shoko replies dryly, rolling her eyes when Gojo waves off her words before turning to face you.

"Why don't you let me help you? It'll get you further than sitting and staring will," he says, holding out his pinky finger and wiggling it in front of your face. "I promise."

"Has it occurred to you that the reason I don't accept your help is because I'm perfectly content with admiring from afar?" you ask as you push your plate away, your appetite now ruined.

"So you're afraid of rejection?" Gojo replies smoothly, taking your tray and munching on your leftover fries. Your expression is a mix of disgust and offense as you watch him, but it quickly shifts to betrayal when Shoko lets out a snort at his words.

"What? He's technically right," Shoko says, trying to defend herself after seeing your withering look. "It's not like you go out of your way to get him to notice you."

"We sit next to each other in class," you mumble, scooting away from Gojo. "We're lab partners and that's enough."

"Wait, you're the one who sits next to him?" Gojo questions, raising a brow when you nod. He finishes the rest of your fries, a pensive look on his face as he does so. You give him an unimpressed look, waiting for him to speak. "You might have a better chance with him than you think."

You can feel the heat flooding your cheeks as you tense up, and you risk another glance at Geto, watching as he converses with Nanami. You shake your head as you turn back to Gojo, who is already looking at you with a knowing smirk.

"Maybe you should listen to him," Shoko comments, taking a bite of her food before continuing. "What's the worst that can happen? Gojo is his friend, after all."

"See! Even Shoko sees how helpful I can be,' Gojo cheers, reaching over to high five Shoko. You bite your lip softly, feeling your stomach twist as you watch Geto smile softly at something Nanami said.

"Fine," you say, giving in. "One chance, Gojo. Don't mess it up, it won't end well for either one of us."

Gojo pumps his fist into the air, earning a weird look from you as he stands up and pats your head.

"You won't regret it. I promise."

"There you are!"

A squeak leaves your lips as Gojo rushes up to you, grabbing you by the hand and dragging alongside him. He doesn't come to a stop until he reaches Shoko and Geto, and you receive a warm smile from Geto and a head nod from Shoko in greeting.

"You two know each other?" Geto asks, slight surprise present on his face as he looks at yours and Gojo's hands. You quickly yank your hand out of his, laughing nervously as Gojo nods.

"Yeah! We've shared a few classes and we study together sometimes," Gojo says, missing the deadly glare you send him. "Similar majors and whatnot, you know the vibe. You should join us sometime, Geto."

"Yeah! The more, the merrier," you spit out, wincing when you feel Gojo's elbow dig into your side. "Shoko, do you want to join."

"I really don't," Shoko replies instantly, smirking as you flounder for a moment.

"I'd like that," Geto says, giving you another smile before turning to Gojo. "We can study after this next lecture, if you're both free?"

"Yeah, we were thinking about that little cafe a couple of minutes off campus," Gojo says, frowning when he notices you walking off with Shoko. A shout of your name has you glancing back, a pout on Gojo's face as he stares after you. "Where are you going?"

"To the cafe," you reply, raising an eyebrow as you cross your arms. "You didn't really expect me to wait out here for the two of you, did you?"

"Just make sure you get a good table!" Gojo says, giving you a lazy grin as you keep walking. You give him a small wave before heading off with Shoko, eventually parting ways with her once you reach the edge of campus.

The cafe Gojo had mentioned was easy enough to find, and you had to admit that it was cozy, the perfect place to sit and study. You manage to snag a table big enough for the three of you, ordering a drink before slipping into study mode. By the time the two boys arrive, you've managed to work through a majority of your lab report.

"Hey," Geto's quiet voice greets you, drawing your attention to him as he takes the seat across from you. You smile in response, shyly averting your eyes when he doesn't look away. Your smile drops when Gojo slides into the seat next to you, his shoulder bumping against yours and causing the pen in your hand to move suddenly, leaving a stray mark behind on your paper.

"Gojo!" you snap, turning to give him a glare. Gojo's face holds a lazy smirk, a pink tint present in his cheeks when he realizes just how close you are. Geto is unable to holds back a soft laugh, watching his usually quiet classmate lose their cool with his best friend.

"How about I buy you a cookie as an apology?" Gojo asks, ignoring Geto's soft laugh.

"Don't bother," you mutter, searching for your roll of Wite-Out. You freeze when Geto's hand comes into your field of vision, his own correction fluid sitting in his palm. You take it from him with a grateful smile, only to have it fall when Gojo leans in, picks up your pen, and scribbles something in the corner of your paper.

'i'm sorry'

You scowl before swiping the Wite-Out over his message, earning an offended gasp from Gojo. He wastes no time before pushes you back, scribbling something else and laughing when you try to snatch your paper away. You succeed after a few tries, smacking his head as you settle down before proceeding to erase all traces of Gojo from your homework.

"Stop being so annoying!" you say, grabbing his face when he tries to lean in and pushing him away.

"I'm not annoying! I'm cute!" Gojo replies, your pen still in his grasp.

"You're a fucking nightmare is what you are," you snap, lunging across his lap for your pen. Gojo pulls it even farther away from you, sticking his tongue out at you when you fail to grab it. You straighten up, placing a knee on your seat to gain some leverage as you throw yourself forward. A yelp leaves Gojo's lips at your action, neither one of you noticing how close you were until the two of you knock heads. Cries of pain leave the both of you, your pen clattering to the floor and rolling around for a bit before being picked up by Geto.

"Are you okay?" he asks, looking at you with an amused expression. You smile sheepishly in response, rubbing at your forehead before nodding.

"Hey! What about me?" Gojo whines, glaring at Geto as he places your pen on your notebook.

"Don't be a baby. We both know that you and thick head of yours are fine," Geto chides, pausing slightly before holding up his phone. The devious smirk on his face makes your stomach drop, and you find yourself dreading whatever he's about to say. "Shoko's going to enjoy this video."

You and Gojo groan in unison, causing Geto to snicker before he gets up to order something. You turn to face Gojo, reaching up to yank his hair harshly before speaking.

"You're insufferable. Stop embarrassing me."

"Ow!" Gojo hisses, rubbing his head for a few seconds before winking at you. "Kinky."

The smack you proceed to give Gojo is heard by Geto from his place in line.

Gojo's plan was admittedly not the worst.

As the weeks drag on, you find yourself forming an easy friendship with Geto, occasionally heading over to his shared apartment with Gojo to study. Gojo does his best to miss those study sessions, always giving some lame excuse in order to leave the two of you alone.

It's a little weird, you admit to yourself, not having Gojo around to disrupt your focus. A selfish part of you reminds you that Gojo's absence means that Geto only speaks to you, and you feel a sense of satisfaction when you realize that the quieter boy always seems to be interested in what you have to say, even going as far as making sure his phone is tucked away when you speak. Your conversations with him are always light and fun, and you even earn a few smiles from him when you find yourself ranting about Gojo.

The white-haired menace had quickly become a larger part of your life than you cared to admit, his awful jokes and teasing nudges eventually growing on you. You often found yourself waking up at 2 a.m. to use the restroom, only to be greeted with whatever random meme Gojo had found on the internet late at night.

"And then, he asked if he could call me because he needed help with chem!" you rant, scribbling something down on your paper as Geto snickers. "He kept me up until 4 a.m., Geto. Four in the morning."

You pause to yawn, taking a sip of water afterwards in an attempt to wake yourself up. Geto shakes his head softly, a small smile on his face as he listens to you. He chooses to keep quiet about the fact that Gojo is the top student in his chemistry class.

"You can nap if you want," Geto says, tilting his head towards his bed. You shake your head, opening your mouth to speak only to be cut off by another yawn.

"Just go sleep," he says softly, using one hand to push you away from the table. "I'll continue the assignment."

You pout at his words, ready to argue with him but pausing when he gives you a stern look. You give him a sheepish smile, grabbing your water bottle before giving in and flopping onto his bed. You waste no time in wrapping his blankets around you, sighing softly as you curl up in the middle of the mattress.

"G'night, Geto," you murmur, missing his response as you knock out. Not even five minutes pass before your phone begins to vibrate consistently, causing Geto to scowl at the sudden movement. He looks over at you, still curled up under his sheets, before reaching for your phone with the intention of putting it on silent.

gojo: [8 new messages]

He pauses when he sees your notifications, smirking lightly before reaching for his own phone. He shakes his head slightly as he types out a message, hitting 'send' before setting his phone down.

sugu: leave 'em alone

Gojo's reply is instant, and Geto's phone dings loudly with a notification before he lunges forward to grab his phone and silence it. A quick glance at you is all it takes to confirm you're still deep asleep, and he turns his focus to his conversation.

satoru ♡: why? ;)

Geto rolls his eyes, fingers quickly gliding across his screen as he types out his response.

sugu: they're asleep. i heard you kept 'em up late last night.

Geto watches as Gojo's typing bubble appears and disappears a few times, and he decides to put his phone down when Gojo ultimately doesn't send a reply. He gets back to his assignment, picking up his pen and going over a few problems before he hears a soft knock at his door. Geto grumbles to himself as he wanders over to his door, opening it quietly only to be met with bright, blue eyes.

"When did you get home?" Geto whispers, taking in Gojo's sweatpants and slippers. He raises an eyebrow at his appearance eyes narrowing as he studies him. "You're already in your loungewear. I didn't even hear you come in."

Gojo ignores Geto's words, his eyes drifting over to the lump on Geto's bed. His eyes soften almost imperceptibly, and doesn't look at Geto even when he speaks.

"Come study with me in the living room. Let's let them sleep."

Geto snorts softly at his words but doesn't argue, walking back into his room to gather all his supplies before walking past Gojo. He watches as Gojo softly closes the door, making sure to turn off all the lights before following after Geto. His eyes widen when he sees Geto giving him a knowing look, and he raises an eyebrow in a silent question when he shakes his head.

"You're hopeless, Satoru."

Ever since the afternoon when you had fallen asleep in his bed, Geto started to notice the way Gojo's eyes always seem to linger on you.

It's not until the three of you at at the usual cafe that Geto realizes that maybe (just maybe) Gojo has developed feelings for you. He can't help but smirk as he watches Gojo stare at you, tossing rolled up pieces of his torn-up napkin at you and smiling whenever you swat at him.

When he realizes that you don't plan on turning your attention towards him, Gojo proceeds to pick up his pen and poke your cheek with it repeatedly. You mumble something under your breath, glancing at Geto for help and frowning when he simply shakes his head.

Gojo snickers as he leans in closer, the tip of his pen gliding across your cheek and leaving a mark as you finally whip your head around to face him, a sharp glare on your face when you look at him.

"Gojo!" you hiss, making Geto remember the first time the three of you had ever studied at the cafe. It had been a very similar situation, leading to the two of you knocking heads. Geto raises an eyebrow when he notices just how close you are to Gojo, your nose almost brushing his as you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

"Gojo," you repeat, now a lot calmer than you had previously been. "I would appreciate it if you learned what personal space is and respected mine."

"Uh, you have a little something," Gojo says, reaching over for a napkin and dipping it in a bit of water. He raises his free hand, cupping your cheek and gently turning it to the side so he can wipe at the pen mark on your cheek. "Right here."

Geto holds his breath as he watches the scene playing out in front of him, eyes widening slightly when he sees the way Gojo interacts with you. He has never seen him be so gentle with anyone, and he smirks to himself when he realizes that his speculation about Gojo's feelings for you is most likely true.

"That mark is your fault," you huff lightly, crossing your arms as you attempt to avoid Gojo's gaze. He's ridiculously close, and you pull away quickly when you notice how intently Geto is observing the two of you. Gojo freezes for a few seconds, his fingertips grazing the curve of your cheek as you turn away. He clears his throat loudly, placing the napkin down before standing up.

"I'm gonna, uh, go get a drink," he says, fidgeting slightly before continuing. "Do either of you want anything?"

Geto shakes his head at the same times you respond with your favorite drink, causing Gojo to nod determinedly before making his way over to the counter. You stare after him, shaking your head briefly before turning your attention back to your work and pretending not to notice Geto's gaze on you. The sound of your pen scratching on your paper fills the silence between the two of you, but you find yourself halting your actions when you notice Geto's eyes still focused on you. You glance up at him, raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

"So, you and Satoru, huh?" Geto asks, mentally laughing when he sees the way your eyes widen. You place your pen down on the table, shaking your head vehemently as you glance at the boy in question.

"Me and him? Ew! No, I like you!" you blurt, slapping a hand over your mouth as you realize what you've just said. The embarrassment you expect never hits you, your face twisting into a scowl instead when Geto laughs loudly.

"No, you don't," Geto replies, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. He watches your face twist up in annoyance, your eyes narrowing as you stare him down.

"You can't just decide who I do and don't like," you say, rolling your eyes before looking back down at your work. "I like you, Geto. You're sweet and charming and you're a good guy. I like you, okay?"

"Do you really?"

You look up when Geto slides into the seat next to you, meeting his eyes and blinking slowly when he leans in slightly. His elbow rests on the table, cheek in palm as he stares at you. You meet his gaze easily, eyebrows knitting together when he leans in close, his breath fanning across your lips.

"Yes," you state confidently, your eyes dropping to his lips briefly before meeting his gaze once more. He moves his head forwards slowly, his lips brushing against yours briefly before you jerk back.

"Sorry," you whisper, your hand covering your mouth as you try to process what just happened. "I don't know what—"

"Yes, you do," Geto interrupts, his lips turned up slightly. "Do you really still think you like me?"

"Am I interrupting something?" Gojo asks, face set in a deep frown as he looks at the close proximity between you and Geto. The two of you shake your heads, and Geto slides back into his original seat as Gojo places your drink down in front of you with a loud thud.

"Sure didn't seem like nothing," Gojo grumbles, taking his seat once more and immediately getting back to work. He pauses when he notices your frozen state, softly nudging your shoulder with his to catch your attention. You turn towards him, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away and nodding your head to let him know you're fine.

On the inside, you're shaking, silently berating yourself for pulling away from Geto. But you're not naive; you know that somewhere down along the line, meeting Geto's eyes had become easy, and being around him didn't fill your stomach with butterflies the way it used to. Instead, you simply felt the comfort and happiness that came with spending time with a friend, someone who you trusted wholeheartedly.

Taking a sip of your drink, you close your eyes, head spinning with thoughts of Geto's words as you finally accepted what you had been trying so hard to deny.

You could no longer look Gojo Satoru in the eye.

"Fuck you," you mutter the next morning, being met with a smirk from Geto as soon as the two of you walk across campus.

"What's wrong?" he asks, tone slightly mocking as he slings an arm across your shoulders.

"You know exactly what's wrong," you reply, huffing when you feel him rub your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you.

"Morning," Shoko greets, nodding at the two of you when you come to a stop in front of her and Gojo. You reply quietly, glancing at Gojo to see him already staring at Geto's arm. You attempt to shrug it off casually, ignoring the snicker that leaves Geto's lips at your action.

"Good morning, did you sleep well?" Gojo asks, coming to your side and leaning against the wall. You nod silently, suddenly hyperaware of the way his smile seems to be just the slightest bit lopsided. You find yourself wondering how he manages to look good even though you know he stays up late more often than not. "I missed you last night. The video call just wasn't the same after you fell asleep."

"He kept you on the line and yelled at me when I dropped my water bottle," Geto says dully, earning a glare from Gojo.

"It was loud!"

"It fell on the rug! There was barely any sound!" Geto retorts, smirking when he sees Gojo's cheeks darken.

You chuckle nervously, glancing at the time before grabbing Geto's hand and dragging him away. "Well, it's time for class. See you both later!"

Shoko and Gojo watch as you drag Geto down the hall, Gojo's gaze focused on your linked hands. Shoko follows his line of view, snorting as she raises an eyebrow.

"Looks like they finally confessed, huh?" Shoko asks, causing Gojo to turn and give her a bewildered expression. "Oh come on, we all knew they liked each other."

Shoko's sly tone sets off warning bells in Gojo's head, but he can't help the mildly panicked look that spreads across his face at her words.

"Wait," he says, his breath catching in his throat as he pauses. "Geto actually likes them back? I thought he was just friendly with them."

"Why are you so surprised?" Shoko asks, keeping a straight face as she speaks. "Isn't this what you wanted? To help them get together?"

"I—," Gojo pauses, blinking a few times before composing himself. "You're right."

Shoko snorts at Gojo's response, shaking her head when she noticed the conflicted look in his eyes. "You like them."

"No, I don't," Gojo scoffs, avoiding Shoko's gaze as he looks around. A cry of surprise leaves his lips when he feels Shoko's hand grasp his jaw, twisting his face to look in your direction. His eyes soften when they land on you, the corners of his lips twitching as he watches you pout at Geto.

A frown appears on his face as he pulls himself away from Shoko, grabbing his backpack before quickly walking away. She trails after him, lips pulled up in a smirk as she watches him.

"I like them," Gojo eventually mutters, watching Shoko's smirk grow.

"I know," she quips, earning a dirty look from him. "You should tell them. They still haven't confessed to Geto and I've never seen you act this way over anyone."

Gojo stops walking at Shoko's words, giving her a distraught look as he processes her words. "You lied to me?"

"Yeah."

Neither you nor Gojo notice the satisfied nods that Shoko and Geto exchange during lunch.

It's abnormally silent, with Gojo shoveling his food into his mouth while you just push yours around. Geto looks at the two of you before glancing at Shoko, wondering if they should be the ones to break the silence.

Geto opens his mouth to speak, finally having had enough of the silence, only to stop when Shoko places a hand on his arm. She tilts her head towards Gojo, noticing the way he keeps glancing at you and your food. There's a soft smile on his lips, one that Geto had seen Gojo give you one too many times while the three of you had studied together.

"So," Gojo starts, stretching the words out as he leans in close to you. "Are you gonna finish that?"

An annoyed expression flits across your face, and Geto and Shoko lean back in their seats as they watch the two of you.

"Hello? Anybody in there?" Gojo asks, scooting closer to you when you ignore him. He wraps an arm around the back of your seat, a big, teasing grin on his face as he looks at you over his sunglasses.

You remain in place, doing your best to ignore both the close proximity between the two of you and the slight racing of your heart. You can feel Gojo looming over you, and you're all too aware of the cocky smile on his face as he watches you.

"Are you ignoring me right now?" he asks, humming lightly when he doesn't receive an answer. Shoko and Geto watch as he grabs his chopsticks, inching them closer and closer to your food. He stops when your hand clamps down on his, tightly grabbing it and pushing it away from your plate.

"Stop," you scold, rolling your eyes when he makes another attempt. "You finished your meal, leave mine alone."

"But I'm still hungry!" he whines, successfully managing to steal a bite. "Besides, it's not like you're eating it."

"Shove it, Gojo!" you snap, pulling your food away and turning to face him. You feel your cheeks flood with heat when you meet his eyes, and you watch as his smirk slowly drops into a soft smile.

"Not ignoring me anymore?" he asks, snickering when you roll your eyes.

"No, but I can start again," you scoff, smacking his chopsticks our of his hand as he goes in for more food. He whines softly, pouting as he holds up his reddening hand.

"You're so mean!" he complains, shoving his hand in your face. "I know what you can do to fix this. Kiss it better!"

"Kiss it yourself," you retort, pushing his hand down onto the table. "I don't want to be anywhere near your disgusting hand."

"My hand is not disgusting!" he exclaims. "It's super clean. I wash my hands."

"I'm sure you do."

"I do! Just ask Geto!"

"I sincerely doubt it," you retort, absentmindedly swiping at his hand. Your action causes his hand to slide across the table, and Gojo's body lurches forward at the loss of balance. The two of you freeze when his lips brush against yours, eyes wide as your breaths mingle.

"The two of you make me sick," Shoko comments, although her words are lighthearted. "I'm gonna go smoke, I don't know how much more of Gojo's lovesick smiles I can handle."

The two of you separate when you hear Geto snort, exchanging soft apologies as you look anywhere but each other.

"So I'm guessing that Gojo wasn't exactly hungry for food," Geto teases, his tone dry as the two of you look at him. You flip him off, earning a chuckle from Shoko as she walks off.

"You can say that again," Gojo jests, laughing when you smack his chest. He grabs your hand swiftly, pushing it away and stopping your attack. "Why are you hitting me? That was funny!"

Geto takes in your embarrassed expression, fighting back a smile before he stands up as well. "I'll leave you two alone."

You watch as Geto walks away, following after Shoko and leaving you and Gojo in silence.

"So," Gojo starts, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "You didn't pull away."

"No, I didn't," you reply quietly, still not looking at Gojo.

"You're trembling," Gojo says, your hand shaking slightly in his hold. "Why?"

You stay silent, only tightening your hold on his hand as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

"You like me," Gojo states softly, finally drawing your attention to him. A smile tugs at his lips when you meet his eyes, and he pushes his sunglasses to the top of his head when you nod. "What happened to liking Geto?"

You shrug lazily, making a noncommittal noise at you let him pull you towards him. He leans down to press a kiss against your temple, making you look up at him with mild surprise on your face.

"Can we try that again?"

Gojo leans in when you nod, and you feel your heart stutter in your chest as he presses his lip to yours. You squeeze your eyes shut, shyly moving your lips against Gojo's in response. He slips his hand out of yours in order to wrap it around your back, pulling you closer to him as his other hand pulls you half into his lap . Your hands press against his chest, balling up the fabric of his shirt in your fists as you try to process the fact that you're currently kissing Gojo Satoru.

The smell of his cologne makes your head spin, and you can't help the way your press yourself closer to him as he tilts your head up to deepen the kiss.

"So... am I a good kisser?" Gojo asks when the two of you pull away, leaning his forehead against yours as he observes you.

"Gojo," you sigh, shifting out of his lap but remaining in his arms.

"I think I am," he continues, eyes shining as he looks at you. "Especially with the way you were kissing back and—"

"Gojo!"

"—and the way you pressed yourself closer to me, and—"

"Satoru!" you finally yell, getting his attention. He stops talking, blinking at the sound of his first name before answering.

"Yeah?"

"What are we?" you ask, pausing slightly before shaking your head. "What was that? Why did you do that?"

Gojo scoffs, moving his hands to cup your face. "Isn't it obvious? I kind of like you."

"Only kind of?" you ask, your stomach twisting as you tease him.

"Ok, fine," Gojo concedes, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "I really like you."

A pause ensues between the two of you, and you raise an eyebrow when you notice Gojo pouting.

"What?" you ask, unable to look away from him due to his hands still cupping your face.

"You're supposed to say it back," he says, a low whine leaving his lips when you remain silent. You snicker softly, reaching up to grab his hands and holding them in your own.

"Gojo Satoru," you begin, sending him a soft smile that has his heart melting. "You're a fucking nightmare—"

"Hey!"

"And you're pretty annoying, and rude, and petty, and—"

"Ok! I get it!"

"But!" you say, giving him a look that screamed 'shut up!'. "I kind of really like you too."

Gojo grins before leaning in to peck your lips, chuckling when he hears you squeak in surprise.

"So," he says, an alarmingly devious smile on his face. "Does this mean that now i'm the only one that makes your heart race and palms sweat?"

You glare at him as he giggles, getting up and grabbing your stuff before walking away.

"Hey! Where are you going?"

"To find Geto," you reply dryly, smirking when you hear Gojo scrambling after you.

"You don't mean that, right? Babe?"

A laugh leaves your lips as Gojo catches up to you, gently taking your backpack from you and swinging it over his shoulder. He reaches for your hand and pulls you close to him, his offended expression softening when he sees you laughing.

Sure, Gojo Satoru was a fucking nightmare, but you couldn't deny that he really did make your heart race. And you were lucky enough to have him in your life.

rbs are appreciated <3 ty for reading!!

jealous sukuna 🤭

ANNOYANCE, sukuna cw — athlete!sukuna, fem!reader, pwp, groping (he is an ass man), panty stealing (kind of?), voyeurism, exhibitionism, rough fucking, cowgirl, riding, spitting, it's reall nasty, size kink, praise, public sex (?), ur in love and sukuna is too stubborn to admit it, sukuna literally curses so much here in his internal monologue ( EROS WRITES — went wild with this one i just reall love him .. got lazy at the end again ..)

sukuna knows his girlfriend is hot.

he gets it. he knows people stare at you when you enter a room, he knows people fantasize about what it'd be like to fuck you, and he knows how lucky they call him when they realize he's the one that you go home to every night. and he, albeit bitterly, never really cares, considering people think the same thing about him. he knows he's attractive too.

besides, it's not like no one would really ever act on their sentiments towards you, right? not when they know who sukuna is?

wrong.

every once in a while, there's one arrogant motherfucker who thinks sukuna is all talk, who thinks he won't bust their fuckin' knees in for even daring to hit on you. but it's okay. he's always happy to prove them wrong.

the two of you sit on a couch in some frat house, having decided to leave your shared apartment and go to one of the lame parties for once. you're curled into his side, clad in his shirt and a pair of shorts you had lazily thrown on before leaving, scrolling boredly away on your phone, whilst he has you pulled close, his arm wrapped around your waist with one hand resting on your ass.

he's engaged in conversation with some of his teammates and a few other acquaintances (he'd rather die than call them his friends), when the cocky fuck lazily waltzes over to the two of you.

it's evident that the smug bastard is one of those wannabe "bad boys" who flirts with girls in front of their boyfriends to seem cooler or something. he has dark hair and tan skin, and sukuna's sure any desperate girl would throw themselves at him, but he knows you aren't desperate. (he had been the desperate one, spending nearly six months just trying to get your number, back when the two of you were in your freshman year of college.)

usually, sukuna wouldn't care. he'd be ignoring the two of you. but something about this dickhead pricks at him the wrong way.

"you look really bored," the asshole says to you, lips curling upwards into what sukuna can make out as a cocky smirk. "maybe you should ditch your friends and come hang out with me."

sukuna blinks almost owlishly, turning his head. his gaze burns into the side of your head. you shift closer to your boyfriend, and he triumphantly relaxes, moving his hand to rest on the small of your back.

you give the man an awkward smile. "i'm fine here."

the dick clearly doesn't catch onto how uncomfortable you are, and sukuna has to resist an eyeroll. "you can bring your friend."

the pink-haired man doesn't know how stupid this man has to be to be referring to him as anything but your boyfriend with the way he practically gropes your ass, but he decides to humor him.

his lips curl upwards into a cruel smile, "yeah, why don't we go with him, friend?"

you shudder, and that's how the two of you ended up here; he supposes, you and your boyfriend sitting in some poor frat brother's empty bedroom whilst the cocky bastard from earlier watches from the crack in the door.

he thinks he's a genius for swiping one the asshole's friend's phone and then texting said prick to come upstairs, because now the loser gets to watch him fuck his pretty little girlfriend.

the arrogant fuck isn't so arrogant anymore as he watches you ride sukuna like he's a fucking mechanical bull, your hips rocking desperately against your boyfriend's.

your manicured nails scrape against sukuna's chest; curses tumbling from your lips as you praise your boyfriend like he's some god who saved you. he doesn't know if you know about the man watching you from the crack in the door, but he's sure you're too eager to please him to even care.

"you can do better than that, can't you?" sukuna drawls, smacking you on the ass. you nod pathetically, attempting to pick up your pace, pulling a groan from him. "yeah, thats a lot better, dollface."

you moan under his praise, as he slips a hand under his shirt, cupping your breast and bringing his thumb over your nipple. he rolls the bud in-between his fingers slightly.

"th—this isn't romantic, baby," you whine, shaking your head. he can tell you're going to cum soon and fast. "i don't wanna fuck in some frat house."

"be a good girl and take what i give you," he grumbles, shaking his head. "you just wanna be fucked, huh?"

you can barely open your mouth to respond, as sukuna is turning you over, pinning you beneath him. you gasp and he practically rips your thighs open, spreading them widely apart.

he spits, watching as the spit travels down to your leaking cunt. you clench around his cock, and he laughs, bringing his thumb up over your bottom lip. you look up at him desperately and he loves how pathetic you look, your lip-gloss smeared and your hair a mess.

he kisses you and you kiss back hungrily, as he begins to ram his cock into you. you hiss loudly into the kiss. the stretch his length brought was something you could never adjust to, but he was proud of you for trying, although he'd never admit it.

"mmghfh, s'kuna!" you moan, "i can't—"

"shut up," he huffs, pressing his lips back to yours, but he knows he's gonna cum soon too. his nails dig into your thighs, marking your skin as his.

the force of his thrusts isn't just too much for you, apparently, as he hears the headboard break with a sharp crack!

"oh, fuck," he curses, and that's the final straw, as you squeeze your eyes shut tight, cumming around his cock. he would've teased you, if he didn't immediately empty his seed within you with a groan and one final thrust, practically falling limp on top of you afterwards.

the both of you breath heavily, his head resting on your chest. he can hear your heartbeat. he appreciates the way you run your fingers through his scalp, just relishing in the quiet.

you let out a groan. "you're heavy, sukuna," you shake your head. "get off."

he lazily climbs off of you and helps you get dressed. he bends down and reaches for your panties, amused grin spreading across his features.

you give him a look, opening your mouth to reprimand him—

but it's too late, as he yanks the door open and tosses them to the stunned dickhead.

"use these to get yourself off, asshole," sukuna snaps, and he ignores the exasperated look on your face, as he tugs you down the stairs with him.

because at the end of the night, he's who you go home with.

erosuya.

translation

Aventurine doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you. (Or: You are the only person in the universe who understands Aventurine in his mother tongue. He often regrets teaching it to you.)

5k words. gender neutral reader, established relationship, angst, non-graphic sex (reader bottoms, anatomy neutral), themes of cultural loss, references to slavery, aventurine’s canonically implied desire to die. MDNI.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

Deception does not come easily to him in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak—and too kind. The universe was a different place in the days when his life was coloured by the warble of Avgin dialect. It felt simpler, partly because he was a child and partly because Sigonia was yet untouched by outsiders. There were no corporations, no casinos, no commodity codes. His entire world was sand, desert, mother, sister, father (or more often—ghost), goddess, tent, wagon, luck, sin, rain, blessing, Avgin.

Katican.

Aventurine is sure that he knew more than just those words. He was fluent as a child. He had conversations with his sister that were complex enough to make his heart hurt, though perhaps his heart was just constantly aching anyway. But the rest of his early words escapes him. He could maybe dredge them up if he thinks long enough, but he also isn't sure if his tongue and lips could form the shape of them anymore. Sometimes he still counts in Avgin, memorises phone numbers in it, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually strung together a full sentence in the language.

When Aventurine was first stolen into slavery (a word that he had not known as a child, and still doesn't know in Avgin), he wasn’t given a Synesthesia Beacon. He had to rely on his ears and his wits, deciphering the harsh edges of the Katican dialect and then the strange garble of Interastral Standard Language. By the time he had a Beacon installed, it was already translating all speech into Standard—his dominant language.

Sometimes he feels a little aggrieved by it, but at least it wasn't Katican. He'd have blown out his brains if it were.

But it is easy to console himself: Avgin is not a useful language anyway. Dead languages have no value, and the Avgin dialect was killed along with its people. You can’t perform commerce in a dead language, can't negotiate contracts, can't enter a gambling den and use your silver tongue to rob people blind. You can't use a dead language to fell governments and extract resources; you can't use a dead language to bring an entire planet to its knees. You can’t use a dead language to gamble your life; you can't use it to save yourself from the gallows.

You cannot deceive people in a language that is defined by sand, sister, goddess, ghost.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin. His command of it is too weak, and there is no one left to which he can lie, anyway.

When you ask Aventurine to teach you his first language, he gives you an amused look.

“Why Avgin?” he asks. “No one speaks it anymore. I can teach you Common Sigonian if you’d like. Or we could learn Xianzhounese together. Maybe Intellitron code? I know a little.”

“You speak Avgin,” you argue.

“Not often,” he says. “And badly when I do.”

“But it's still your language. And I want to understand you.”

Aventurine has to stop himself from laughing. Understand him? He hates being understood. When people understand him, it makes him predictable. And unlikeable. Hardly a position from which he can manipulate people in.

You understand him well enough to know that.

“You'll have to give me a better reason than that,” he says neatly. “Make it worth my while. Reward me.”

You look at him as you ponder, your eyes lingering on his. Perhaps trying to read him, though he prefers to think you're just enjoying the sight of them.

“I’ll teach you my language as well?”

“You mean—you'll reward my hard labour with more work?” he says, lighthearted.

You frown at him despite the joke. “You don't want to understand me better than what a Synesthesia Beacon would allow?” He blinks, pausing. “It’ll be convenient too. We can talk shit about other people in public and no one will understand us.”

Aventurine considers you. He doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you.

He also likes the idea of talking shit in public.

“I'm listening,” he says, voice lilting. You lean in, smiling. Sweet. It makes his heart feel something he isn't used to. Something addictive. Something disgusting. He scrambles to cover it with one of the usual tools: humour or distraction or maybe just plain old lying—his most reliable weapon.

“I'll throw in a kiss?” you try.

He hums. “Just one?”

“One per day.”

“Three.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“Well, I am a businessman.”

You snort, but he knows you're endeared. You have very noticeable tells when you’re flustered.

“Okay,” you say. “Three kisses on days you teach me.”

“Deal.”

Aventurine remembers more Avgin than he thought he would.

It comes to him slowly, painstakingly. You aren't interested in structured lessons, and he wouldn't be able to provide them anyway. He has a nonexistent grasp of grammar aside from this sounds right and that sounds strange, and Avgin dialect is both so niche and so dead that no textbooks are available. The scholars have abandoned the language as much as the politicians abandoned its people. Aventurine only has you, his fragmented memory, and whatever questions come to mind as you live out your days with him.

Mostly, you ask him about basic vocabulary. Sometimes you ask him to repeat sentences from your conversations in Avgin, like he’s some kind of multilingual parrot. Each prompt forces him to wade through the fog in his mind, the one that’s been shrouding his childhood memories until now. He's startled at how naturally the old words roll off his tongue: One, two, three, four. Good morning. Good evening. Good night. Sweet dreams. Five, six, seven, eight. You're lying to me. Why do you always lie to me? I don't know what you're talking about. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Welcome home. Have you eaten? Have some bread. I made you stew. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. That was dangerous. I thought you wouldn't make it back to me. Sometimes I think you want to die. One hundred, one thousand, one million, one billion. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

When you say, How do I ask you to let me hold you, he answers easily. He'd heard the words so often as a child: Let me hold you, Kakavasha. Let Mama hold you. His mouth forms the sounds without conscious thought.

He regrets it almost immediately.

When Aventurine hears it from you—stilted, halting, but no less gentle—he stops breathing. Let me hold you. You say it all the time in Standard, but it feels different in Avgin. More painful. A strange sense of panic closes in on him when he's wrapped up in you, thinking in Avgin, thinking sand, sister, goddess, ghost. He holds you tightly, like the rags cut from his father’s shirt, or his mother’s locket won back from the shell-slashers, or a bag of poker chips beneath a card table, clutched within his trembling grip.

“Aventurine, is something wrong?” you ask in Avgin, and he replies in Standard with his usual smile.

“Hm? No. What could be wrong if I have you here?”

Lying is one of his greatest tools. Sex is another one. So he says, “I think I'd like my reward now,” and he runs his lips along your jaw, your pulse, the spot over your heart (there's a word for that in Avgin but not Standard, he tells you), until you're laughing. I thought you wanted three kisses, you tease, and he replies, Who said I wanted to kiss you on the mouth?

But he coaxes open your thighs, and once he's inside you, he collects his payment properly. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and you swallow his lies whole.

There are some things that Aventurine doesn't teach you. Mostly, they’re things that he can’t teach you.

There are countless gaps in his Avgin. His speech is painfully childish—probably more childish than it was when he actually stopped speaking it. He doesn't know how to swear (something that disappoints you) and he doesn't know how to flirt (something that devastates you). He doesn’t know any words that would be useful for work either: commercialization, governance, stakes, winnings, profit. When you ask him what his job title is in Avgin (“Was senior management even a thing in Avgin society?”), he laughs and gives you the word for gambler.

Then there are the words that he remembers—has remembered his whole life—but never says. Not to you, and not to himself. He doesn't teach you any prayers. He doesn't teach you any blessings. He doesn't teach you about Mama Fenge, or the Kakava Festival, or how the rain fell when he was born. When you ask him, What holidays did you celebrate when you were little? he shrugs and says, We didn't have any. Sigonia’s too bleak to do any partying.

Then you ask him one day, while your bodies are spent in the afterglow of sex, sticky with sweat and sweetness, how to say I love you. And he goes quiet.

Love is a cheap word in Interastral Standard. In the language of globalisation and trade, love has been commercialised, commodified, capitalised for power. You say it to him in many contexts: I love this, I love that, I love you. He hardly ever reacts, and he's never said it back. It would feel unnecessary and also cruel if he did: Aventurine has only ever said the words himself as either a joke or a manipulation.

But love feels different in Avgin than in Interastral Standard, doesn't sound like a thing that can be traded or bought. Kakavasha only ever said the word love to his mother, to his sister, to his father's grave. Love in his mother tongue feels priceless.

When Aventurine thinks about you saying it—I love you, Kakavasha, in clumsy, earnest Avgin—something so painful swells in his throat that he can hardly breathe.

“There is no word for love in my language,” he tells you.

You blink. “Okay, then what's an idiom for it?”

“There is none. There’s no word or phrase expressing love.”

You raise a brow. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Is it?” He smiles. “There’s no Avgin in the known universe who cares about love. Only scheming, thieving, and treachery—and you can't do those things when love is involved.”

You look at him in alarm. “Why are you saying that?” You're practically squirming in your discomfort. “I don't know why you think I'd believe such a racist stereotype.”

“It’s not a stereotype,” he says. “I'm not talking about the Avgin culture. I'm talking about myself.”

After all, he is the only Avgin left.

It is an unfair thing to say. A cruel thing to say. After all the laughing and kissing and crying and fucking, after all the tender eyes and gentle words from you—it is probably the worst pain imaginable: I don't give a shit about you. He waits for you to cry.

But you only stare at him calmly, studying him. You brush the hair out of his eyes, seeing them clearly.

“If you lie to me all the time,” you say in Avgin, “eventually I'll stop believing anything you say.”

Aventurine is speechless. His heart does that addictive, disgusting thing again. He thinks about leaving, but then you say, Let me hold you, and he can't do anything other than obey.

Avgin dialect was once included in the Synesthesia Beacon list of functions. The Intelligentsia Guild added it before the Second Katica-Avgin Extinction Event, when the IPC was trying to get a political foothold on Sigonia via the Avgin people. The language was alive then, with enough value to be included into the Synesthesia LLM by the linguists.

But since the Extinction Event—since Kakavasha ran away from home—the Synesthesia data on Avgin has been stagnant, a fossil. Aventurine knows because he's subscribed to software updates for certain languages (Avgin Sigonian, Common Sigonian, Interastral Standard, and now your mother tongue). He gets pinged every time there's a new addition for slang, for neologisms—but there hasn't been a ping for the Avgin dialect since he had the Beacon installed. The live translation function hasn't even been available since the previous Amber Era. When he checks its page on his Synesthesia app, it's very clear why—

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 0 STATUS: Extinct END OF SERVICE: 2156 AE

The complete death of the language has led to an irritating dilemma for you and Aventurine. You keep running into words that he doesn't know—this time not because of his childlike speech, but because they never existed in his language to begin with. Ocean, tropical, rainforest. Starskiff, accelerator, space fleet. Stock market, shortselling, mutual funds. Black hole, event horizon, spaghettification. All things that never came up for Kakavasha, but now come up for Aventurine, and the language has not evolved to include it.

He always wants to switch to Standard to discuss these things, but you're insistent on speaking in Avgin as much as possible. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't mind humouring you—partly because he likes to indulge you, and partly because he’s grown used to hearing the honeyed timbre of Avgin dialect in your household. The place would feel strange without it.

So you start filling the gaps with other languages, filtering them through the lyricism of Avgin. Loanwords, he thinks they’re called. You take ocean, tropical, rainforest from Amazian; starskiff, accelerator, space fleet from Xianzhounese; stock market, shortselling, mutual funds from Interastral Standard. For the astrophysics terms, you try directly translating them—with limited success.

“Can't I literally just say ‘black hole’?” you ask in Avgin, and he nearly spits out his coffee.

“Please don't. That's a dirty word.” He can't bring himself to say what it means, but from the way you’re laughing, you can clearly guess.

“I thought you said you didn't know how to swear.”

“You've just reminded me how.”

“You're welcome.” You look on the verge of cackling. Aventurine finishes his coffee and wonders when you're going to surprise him with your newfound vulgarity.

“Let's just do the space terms based on Standard,” he says. Begs.

“No, that's so boring.”

“Then let's do your language.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Give him a blank look.

“You don't know how to say those words in your mother tongue either, do you,” he intuits.

“Well, ‘spaghettification’ doesn't really come up in everyday conversation, does it?”

“Then maybe we don't need it.” He smiles, senses an opportunity. Smells blood. “How about ‘love’? I'd much rather know how you say that. I bet it sounds beautiful.”

You give him a long look. Your eyes are vulnerable when you share it: Love. I love you. He’s fascinated by the sound of it. Your voice is never that fragile when you say it in Standard. It's never so earnest. He repeats it, staring at you, and your gaze falls to the ground. His mouth curls.

“I like it,” he says. “Let's use that. It'll sound nice in Avgin.”

You try to recover. “Sure. That works. But back to ‘black hole’—”

And the two of you continue like that for days, weeks, months. It feels like a complete bastardization of his mother tongue on some days, in some conversations. Almost unrecognisable. But it doesn't feel bad. It’s all he has, it's all you have, and when he walks into your home, he starts speaking it without thinking: your bastard, patchwork language. The Avgin dialect that exists only in your house. A tongue that can only be understood by a liar.

And then, one lazy Sunday morning, he gets a familiar ping. He expects it to be Interastral Standard, as usual. The language balloons with each planet that the IPC colonises.

But instead, he opens his screen and freezes.

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 2 STATUS: Endangered. SERVICE RESUMED: 2157 AE NEW UPDATES: 103 loanwords and 5 neologisms added.

He can't stop looking at the status. Endangered. Endangered, which means dying, but alive. The Avgin dialect is alive again. The Intelligentsia Guild determined it, so it must be true. But Aventurine can't agree: there are no Avgin speakers in the known universe other than the two of you, and what you speak isn't real Avgin. The Avgin spoken by his mother and father and sister is dead; the Avgin spoken by Kakavasha is dead. The festivals are gone; the deserts have been terraformed. There are no wagons; there are no dances; there are no prayers. There are no blessings, and he has no home—

As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.

His throat locks up.

“Aventurine?” you ask. Your voice is drowsy, but concerned. “Is something wrong?”

He looks at you from his phone, a polished smile on his face.

“No.” His syllables are plain and efficient in the noise of Interastral Standard: “Just looking at details for a new assignment. It’ll be a long one.”

“Oh.” You frown. “Will you be away from home for a long time, then?”

He stops himself from swallowing. “Yes, I'll be away from the house. For several months, probably.”

“Okay.” Your voice is small. “Take care of yourself, okay? I'll miss you.”

Each word you speak resonates with heartbreak. It always does in these conversations, even in Standard—but the sorrow is amplified in Avgin. His mother tongue has an inherently sad quality to it, he's noticed. His people have lost so much over their history—their language is one of loss. It's his language of loss. Kakavasha did all his grieving in Avgin; Aventurine has never felt sorrow in Standard. When the language died, so did Kakavasha—and all his regrets with it.

“You'll come home to me, right?” you ask. It's a beautiful sentence in Avgin. A heartrending one. He feels something that he hasn't known since he was a child.

It's a feeling he has to kill.

“Yes,” he says in Standard. “Of course I'll come back.”

This is not the first time that Aventurine has been mistaken for dead, but this is the longest time.

The latest world to join the IPC network was a tough acquisition. It had been ruled by a despot who wreaked havoc on both the people and the planet, and who was too stupid and reckless to resolve conflicts with his trade partners. He probably would have blown up the whole star system had he been left to his own devices. Aventurine had no qualms about bringing him to ruin, nor did he have qualms about nearly dying in the process.

If things had gone his way, he'd either be dead or missing. This would have been the perfect opportunity to do the latter, actually—to be freed from the IPC. Free to drift alone, speaking with strangers in strange, unfamiliar tongues. No connection to his past, to the cruel history of his luck, to his commodity code. No tether to his inherently unjust destiny. But instead he's back in your house, pockets heavy with his borrowed wealth, speaking to you in his bastardised, childish Avgin. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

Your Avgin is—shockingly fluent. He doesn't know how. He can't think about it right now. All he can process is the wounded animal noise of your speech as you yell at him, as you cry. Like an injured songbird, or a weeping child. Why did you leave, why did you lie, why do you always lie to me, why don't you give a shit about me, you spit. Why do you want to die, why do you want to die, why do you want to die, you keep saying. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost, he keeps hearing. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost. Don't leave me, big sister. People will die. Why do you have to go?

“I’m sorry,” he tries again, this time in your language. “I'm so sorry. Come here. Let me hold you.”

You collapse into your mother tongue. Aventurine is both relieved and horrified. Relieved that he doesn't need to hear the language of his grief—horrified that he needs to hear yours. He's never heard you cry like this. He's never heard you break like this. These must have been the words you used when the soldiers found you hiding in your closet, when they dragged you out of your home. You were just a child.

Aventurine doesn't know the words you are using—you've never taught them—but he still understands them.

You're very malleable when you’re sad; even more so when you're hysterical. Aventurine understands this about you, and he understands how to calm you—this time in your native tongue—and he understands how to kiss you. He understands that you need to feel close to him. He understands that there are ways to accomplish this other than sex. A normal person would talk it out, have an honest conversation, come to a mutual understanding, and maybe even stop trying to kill himself. They wouldn't fuck you into the mattress while your face is still wet with tears.

But Aventurine is not a normal person. He doesn't know how to have an honest conversation, and he doesn't want to be understood. Lying is his greatest weapon, and sex is a close second. So he kisses you until you’re too breathless to cry, fucks you until you can't think, and makes you come so hard that you’re in too much bliss to grieve. And maybe it's horrible of him, but he enjoys it. He enjoys the way your body takes him in so easily, the way your nails dig into his back, the way you tighten around him when you climax, so wet and needy for him. The way you beg for him in your language for liars as he spends himself inside you: I love you, Aventurine, I love you, I love you, I love you—

Only because it feels good. This is all only because he enjoys fucking you. This is all only because you enjoy fucking him. This is all it'll ever be, and it'll be this way until he gets to meet his end.

(Some months ago, Aventurine started dreaming in Avgin.

It surprised him when he first noticed it. The last time he remembers having a dream in his native tongue, he was twelve years old and still in chains. And even then, it had become a sporadic, strange thing. Awful to wake up from. One minute he was with his mother and sister on a cool, rainy day, speaking fluently in Avgin as he laughed and played—and the next minute, he was being shaken awake in his cage, hearing the cruel lash of Katican.

But ever since he's started speaking Avgin with you, he's been dreaming in it. Vividly. Sometimes he's a child in these dreams, and sometimes he's grown. He's always back in the Sigonian desert, among the tents and the campfires and his family wagons. His mother and sister are alive. Sometimes his father is too. The skies roar with thunder and the stellar winds are always harsh, but they always keep him cocooned up in their arms. He's always warm.

Sometimes Aventurine dreams of nicer days. Clear skies, warm sun, cool breeze—all blessings from the Mother Goddess. On these days, he tends to be an adult, and you tend to be there with him. Your Avgin is fluent but strange, filled with funny loanwords and peculiar slang. His father likes the neologisms and starts using them—but only in wrong ways. His sister finds it embarrassing and keeps apologising to you.

His mother loves you. She loves you so much it hurts. This is how I know you're blessed, Kakavasha, she says, glowing. You’re so lucky to have found such a kind person.

Kakavasha knows this. He knows he's lucky, and in his dreams, that isn't a bad thing. In his dreams, his luck means that his home is not violently excised from his heart: his father never dies; his mother never dies; his sister never dies. The tents are not burned; the wagons are not destroyed. He is never forced to forget his people's dishes, their songs, their language, their joy. And in his dreams, his luck means that he meets you anyway, without all the loss and the chains and the lying.

In his dreams, he is able to bring you to the desert. He is able to teach you the Avgin he spoke as a child, to cook all the meals his mother used to make, to share with you their coffee and their tea. He teaches you prayers. He teaches you blessings. He tells you about Mama Fenge, about how the rain fell when he was born. He takes you to the Kakava Festival, shows you how to dance, sings to you all the Avgin songs until you're singing back. He presses his palm to yours in prayer; he kisses you in devotion, not avoidance.

Sometimes the two of you still fight, the same fights that you have in real life, but he handles them with honesty. He listens to you. He apologises to you. He tells you that he’ll change, and he means it—because this world is a kind one, and he has no need to be so cruel to you.

In this kind world, when you lay in bed with his arms tight around you, you smile at him and say, I love you, Kakavasha. You say it in Avgin—real Avgin, not the dialect born from genocide and deceit—and when he responds, there's not even a little bit of insincerity in his voice. Because Kakavasha never became Aventurine in these dreams, so he has no Interastral Standard in which he can lie to you, no silver tongue with which he can manipulate you, no commodity code that inspires his fear of being controlled by you. Kakavasha only knows Avgin, and he only has his sand, his family, his goddess, his home.

And he has you. Finally, he has you.

He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and then he tells you the truth.)

.

.

.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

You noticed this very early on: whenever he lies to you, he always switches to Interastral Standard. Probably he wouldn't be able to do it in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak, and the words he knows are all too kind. He speaks with the innocence of a child, and children cannot deceive people in the way that adults can. Children cannot perform commerce or negotiate contracts. They cannot use a silver tongue to rob people blind. They cannot save themselves from the gallows.

So Aventurine’s Avgin is defenceless. Vulnerable. So vulnerable it hurts. You are not so vulnerable in your first language because your captors spoke it on occasion, and you learned to lie in it to gain their pity. You told Aventurine that knowing it would help him understand you, but this was a deception. Aventurine’s mother tongue was a language of trust, but yours is a dialect of abuse.

The Avgin language died before Aventurine could be gutted by it; this is why it disarms him so completely. This is why he’s so indulgent and so warm when you use it with him, why he yields to all your requests. Not requests for money or gifts—you’re certain those are meaningless to him—but for affection. Let me hold you. Let me touch you. Let me kiss you. He can never say no.

This is also why he loves hearing you speak his mother tongue, you think—it makes him feel at home, it makes him feel safe. Maybe it even makes him feel loved. He never seems so at peace speaking any other language, so you try to use Avgin as much as possible. You like seeing him happy. You like it even if it means you need to teach him your own native language in exchange, even when it means you need to hear him say all the things your captors used to say. You don't mind it if it's him. You never mind the harm he inflicts on you, especially not when it brings you closer to him.

It is convenient that he cannot lie in Avgin. You only wanted to learn it in the first place because he talks in his sleep—mostly in Standard, but sometimes in his native tongue. And now that you know he cannot lie in Avgin, you also know he's always being honest in his dreams. Honest when he throws his arms around you in his sleep. Honest when he grabs you so tightly that you bruise. Honest when he buries his face into your neck and whispers prayers into your skin.

Most of the words he says are common ones, the earliest vocabulary that he taught you. But there are some things he's withheld from you—and to learn those things, you had to track down linguists from the Intelligentsia Guild, bribe them with your dirty money, have them give you all their deprecated, extinct data. It felt two-faced, and it was violating, but it was the only way. You already know that Aventurine would rather die than translate his feelings for you, would never want this part of himself understood.

I'm sorry for always leaving you.

I'm sorry for making you cry.

I can't bear the thought of losing you.

Freedom would be too lonely without you.

I don't want to hurt you anymore.

I don't want to lie to you anymore.

I missed you.

I want you.

I need you.

I love you.

end

afterword

Hello hello!! I come forth with more art for the recent chapter drop for @apatheticrobots 's Trial and error!! <3 This time it's a heavy one since the previous chapter's cliffhanger... And by far my favorite, here are three separate scenes that stood out for me personally ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

Be sure to check out the fic, and dont forget to leave a kudos and a kind comment as always~ have a good one!

Sal and i were giggling abt how everyone overlooked how fleo treated his respective leo compared to the other versions... Little did they know

Old habits die hard ig ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

(OMO by @cherrytraveller / MNMC on AO3 by a_platypus / WMAS on AO3 by chiangyorange)

Longer Than A Heartbeat a beth greene/daryl dixon adaptation of 28 Days Later

A mysterious virus suddenly sweeps across the United States, sending the entire nation into chaos. It is unlike anything the world has ever seen before, turning healthy human beings into lethal, feral, bloodthirsty shells of their former selves within seconds of exposure. It is described only as “an infection of rage.”

Then the mass evacuations begin.

28 days later, Beth Greene wakes up all alone in a deserted hospital.

[updates every Sunday]

chapter 1/29 posted now

Longer Than A Heartbeat

a beth greene/daryl dixon adaptation of 28 Days Later

A mysterious virus suddenly sweeps across the United States, sending the entire nation into chaos. It is unlike anything the world has ever seen before, turning healthy human beings into lethal, feral, bloodthirsty shells of their former selves within seconds of exposure. It is described only as “an infection of rage.”

Then the mass evacuations begin.

28 days later, Beth Greene wakes up all alone in a deserted hospital.

[updates every Sunday]

chapters: one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven | twelve | thirteen | fourteen | fifteen | sixteen | seventeen | eighteen | nineteen | twenty | twenty-one | twenty-two | twenty-three | twenty-four | twenty-five | twenty-six | twenty-seven | twenty-eight | epilogue

Vanilla [M] Pairing: Joshua Hong x Fem!Reader Tags: 11.2k words, Friends to Lovers, Smut, 18+ Summary: Joshua has a secret but perhaps it’s not really a secret at all. Maybe you’ve just refused to see it in an effort to keep your feelings at bay.

Warnings: explicit sexual content 18+, minors dni!, bdsm practices, rules & safe words established, mean-dom!josh, newbie-sub/brat!reader, unprotected sex, oral, fingering, choking, manhandling, hair pulling, biting, spitting, breast/nipple play, pussy/breast slapping, manhandling, deep-throating, face-fucking, cum eating, finger sucking, handcuffing, restraints, vibrators, temperature play, rough spanking w/ mentions about markings/bruising, demoralizing dirty talk, coarse language, multiple orgasms, over-stimulation, safe wording!, casual alcohol consumption at dinner, minor possessive!josh, some pet names, moderate sir kink, inappropriate son-in-law behavior while on the phone w/ mom, aftercare, feelings. 

To be fair…he had given you ample warning. It was entirely your fault that you hadn’t believed him when he told you you’d regret your words. 

You grew up with Joshua, knew him inside and out, like a book you’d read a million times and yet somehow, you had entirely skipped the chapter detailing his sexual proclivities every time. It had been tucked away between your first hand experience that Joshua was essentially an angel in everyone’s eyes your entire lives, including your own. 

He was in the top percent in every grade, a student athlete, a member of the church choir, he volunteered with his family every weekend, graduated from an Ivy League university, and then landed a high-paying job at a huge company. He was attractive, warm, kind, funny, responsible, polite, so on and so forth.

He was the type of boy every mom, including your own, wished for her daughter to someday marry and yet seemingly none of that made a difference now. 

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