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daye-dream · 1 year

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Runaway Coward

Déjà vu is usually a funny thing, something that pokes and prods at us from a distance, trying to trick us into believing that something that hasn’t happened before has.

Unfortunately, déjà vu isn’t quite as kind to you.

This is part two! Check out part one here!

Maple Stories is a cute, picturesque bookstore that started off as something small and cozy, but has since grown out of its humble beginnings. Thankfully without losing its cozy vibes.

Rows and rows of tall shelving take up the majority of the space, with windowside chairs settled in pairs and beanbags all scattered in between. The loopy, handwritten signs meticulously and lovingly denote every genre displayed in every row, and bright, shiny stickers with the labelling “Staff Favourite!” stand out across the spines of books all throughout. Two glass doors opposite to each other lead to two wide, open rooms with long tables, one a dedicated space for kids’ activities and workshops, and the other filled with computers, typical classroom supplies and a printer for those hard at work.

It’s a space you’re well familiar with, and your love for the place is frankly the only reason you showed up to work today at all.

“Damn, you look like shit. Rough night?”

Well. Maybe not the only reason.

An arm slings heavily across your shoulder, and you allow yourself to sink sideways into the familiar hold with a listless, affirmative hum. You’d been doing your best not to seem dead on your feet this whole morning, but there’s no point now that your cover’s already been blown. Plus, you’ve never been able to lie to Ana.

“D’you want some tea?” She asks, then grunts when you put more weight into her side. It’s not nearly enough to unsteady her - she’s just being dramatic.

Still, a hand of hers reaches up to card through your hair, and you sigh comfortably. Her hand is rough, but the motions are soothing and it serves to firmly ground you. “Nah,” you manage to push out as your brain immediately turns to mush under the much-needed affection. Indulging yourself for a moment, you let your eyes slip shut. “I’ll be okay.” Equipped with your trusty water bottle, you’re all set to fight the faint, hazy headache nestled behind your forehead.

Ana isn’t convinced, you can tell, but there isn’t much she can contest you with unless she straight up sends you back home. And that’s not really an option for you right now. She knows it just as well as you do.

So, despite yourself, you gently peel off from your friend and flash her a smile. It’s a weak thing, you can just barely feel the corner of your lips pulling upwards, but it’s a genuine one all the same. Anything less (or anything more) would only stoke the flames of her concern. You don’t push your luck.

“Plus, it’s your turn to take care of the kids today, so that means I get to mainly do busywork. The most I’ll do is probably just have to answer a few questions or find a few books.” And what with it being the middle of the week, you don’t expect the place to get too filled up anyways.

For a moment, Ana is quiet, looking you over in an attempt to really judge the state you’re in, likely looking for any signs of you being worse for wear than you’re letting on. It wouldn’t be the first time (and it likely wouldn’t be the last time, either). You let her do as she pleases, feeling comfortable with her stoic but blatant show of care and the easily trackable nature of her sharp blue eyes. You follow the movement for the few seconds of silence that sit between you.

Eventually, she relents. You just had a hard night, one that still shakes you to your core to think about, but it’s thankfully the first of its kind since a while now. There’s a sore spot on your lip, a string of tension across your shoulders and a dull ache from your restless sleep, but there are no bags setting heavy on your face or a shakiness to your step. It’s not the worst day you’ve had by a long stretch. You’re delicate, but not in need of any repairs quite yet.

(Hopefully, if you distract yourself well enough and don’t go trying to look for what might’ve triggered the demons of your past to sneak back up on you, you won’t need to build yourself back up again at all.)

So, instead of pushing you any further, Ana dramatically groans. “Why do I have to be stuck with the gremlins anyways?” she grouses. “You know those little monsters respect me as far as they can throw me. Every time you tell them to settle down, they basically trip over themselves trying to please you. But me? Oh nooo, they’ll poke at each other or make jokes just to see who gets in trouble first.”

“And yet, they’ve never actually annoyed you, have they?” Taking the olive branch for what it’s worth, you don’t waste a beat in playfully calling her out. It’s less a question than it is a simple fact, and you both know it, so Ana doesn’t bother answering. Instead, she crosses her arms, frown pulling deeper, but for all she might huff and puff, you know she’s got a soft spot for the so-called ‘little monsters’ that pull at her pant legs, whining when it comes time for them to leave, and that stare starry-eyed at her spiky jewellery, later eagerly trying to convince their parents to get them something similar, much to their distaste.

There’s no defence Ana can give to prove you wrong, so she instead ruffles your hair, two notches below a noogie, and walks past you. “Yeah yeah. Go get your nametag on already. I don’t pay you to look pretty.”

You laugh freely, feeling the pit in your stomach lighten.

Yeah. You’re glad you came in today.

With that, the day finally feels like it begins, with patrons starting to filter in at a more reasonable time than 8 AM. You help an overwhelmed-looking university student with a computer issue - wincing sympathetically when you realise said ‘issue’ amounts to little else than the poor thing not realising the mouse wasn’t plugged in - and only just manage to finish changing the printer ink cartons before the tell-tale sound of today’s first-grade field trippers descend upon your best friend and boss. While the supervising teacher looks as embarrassed as always, you don’t share in his pity, and instead contentedly make your way to the back room to restock the display cases, leaving Ana to the ankle-biting wolves with a small smile on your face.

The familiarity is easy.

After that, it doesn’t take too long before your worries begin to drift. Maple Stories is relaxing, and the process of swapping out last week’s ‘Top Ten’ is muscle memory by now. You press new stickers onto the spine of each new winner, smooth through those belonging to two books still upholding their spots, and gently peel off the rest like they belong to old friends coming back from a long and arduous trip.

All the while, as you idly read through each synopsis, little details begin to surface in your mind. Traits, quotes, scenes, all of these come to you, inspired by the creative landscape all around you. It’s not the most riveting of work, but it’s yours and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You remind yourself of this as the sound of hushed, childish laughter passes you by.

It isn’t until you hear your name be called from somewhere behind you that the illusion of peace is suddenly broken, shattered into pieces, and you nearly jump right out of your skin. But it isn’t the prospect of social interaction nor the unexpected disruption that makes ice wash through your veins.

No.

It’s the tone. It’s the voice. It’s the memories that have you bolting forward and away, heart suddenly jack rabbiting in your chest. Fear is on you in an instant, gripping you like a vice that never really left, and horror clouds you as every muscle in your body tenses because all of you knows you’ve messed up.

You moved. You were found, you made a sound and you didn’t stay. The worst part is that it’s all useless, too, because you don’t even get far. Your back finds a bookshelf with a rough and hardy ‘thump’, edges digging into your spine, but you don’t dare keep your back turned for too long because you know that would only make things worse.

Your legs burn with phantom pain, last night’s terrors coming back to you, and your hands clench at your sides as you look up to face your fate all while your mind screams ‘How? HOW?’ so loudly that you can't hear anything else. It’s so cloying you can’t even manage to make a sound despite every nerve in your body crying for help.

But when your eyes finally manage to refocus on what's in front of you, it’s not to the sight of claws reaching for your shirt or gangly metal fingers eager to wrap around your throat.

Instead, there’s a hand.

There’s a fleshy, human hand frozen midair, and it takes all your other thoughts screeching to a stop to realise that that hand is attached to an arm. And that arm is attached to a body.

A human body.

Standing before you is a tall stranger in bright clothes - human clothes - with a full head of dark, curly hair - human hair - looking both decidedly confused, concerned, and something else that your brain can’t quite decipher at this moment. But what you can tell, above all else, is that the being in front of you now is clearly, undeniably human. Warm brown eyes are wide as he stares, shock-still.

Oh god.

Through the still-racing rhythm of your heart, shame floods your system and you begin to internally berate yourself for something entirely different than you had been before, though your internal monologue stays mostly the same.

Stupid, stupid!

You jolt upright so suddenly that the man in front of you flinches, but you don’t give him time to speak, words pushing through your throat unbound.

“I am so, so sorry!” You ignore the way your voice cracks and the way the heat rushing to your face makes you want to bolt away into the bathroom. This isn’t something you can run away from. (This isn’t something you need to run away from.) “I just– I startle easily and I was distracted and– Ohh, I didn’t mean to react like that, I promise!” Your hands clasp together in front of your chest, forcefully willing them to still as you pray that you didn’t just ruin this stranger’s day. You can’t imagine how anybody would feel getting that sort of reaction.

“...”

Unfortunately, your nerves only seem to build as you’re met with silence, but you can’t really blame him. With how volatile of a reaction you just showed, it must be hard for him to even think how to respond. Luckily, you’re not thinking enough for the two of you.

“Did you– Did you need something? I know this place like the back of my hand, spooked or not! NOT- Not that I’m scared of you! I just meant… despite having just gotten startled. Everything’s… Everything’s still in here.” You’re babbling, and when you knock against the side of your head for what you hope is a funny show of emphasis, maybe you do so a little more roughly than needed, as if that’d help build your communicative competence back up.

Unluckily for you, it doesn’t work to literally knock some sense back into you.

Luckily, though, it works well enough to snap the person in front of you into speaking.

“O-Oh! Please don’t worry about that!” He exclaims, voice pitched and startled, high and loud, and so unnervingly familiar that a new flash of goosebumps pass through you. Foolishly, you’d hoped you just misheard him the first time, but no. He really does just… sound like that. Discomfort flows through you all over again.

If you flinch, you hope he doesn’t notice.

“I should be the one apologising for scaring you! That’s not nice of me at all, no no no!” He speaks all while rapidly shaking his hands in front of him, and it’s all you can do to pretend that his attempts to reassure you do anything remotely positive at all. Every sound he makes feels grating in your mind, but you do your best to will down the bottomless pit threatening to pull you under.

Everything is fine. Everything is safe. You’re riling yourself up for no reason.

You shake your head, hoping the movement isn’t as robotic as it feels. “No, you did nothing wrong. If anybody was rude, it was me for acting that way with a customer!”

“But it’s because of me that you acted that way at all! You even hurt yourself! Are you okay? You sounded like you hit yourself super, duper hard and that’s just no good at all!”

“I’m fine! I just–”

“What is going on here?”

Both you and the stranger in front of you jolt to attention as Ana’s authoritative tone cuts you right off. Your neck hurts with the speed at which you swivel to look at her, breath catching in your throat once more, and you hope you don’t look nearly as panicked as you feel as her name leaves you, breathless.

It’s a relief to see her - so relieving you might cry, in fact - but that relief is quickly squandered with the way she all but glares at the tall patron a few steps in front of you. You don’t know when he cut off some of the space between you two, but you don’t have the time to wonder about that before Ana is stomping right up to him like a woman on a mission.

“What are you doing to my employee?” she accusingly questions the poor soul you dragged into this mess. Ana might not be the tallest person around, near dwarfed in comparison to this stranger who stands a full foot above her, but only a fool would think her to be unintimidating. She’s confident and stronger than she seems, and that’s saying something considering how sturdy her arms already look. You have no doubt in your mind that if she wanted, she could absolutely snap the lanky man in front of you if she wanted to.

And it definitely looks like she wants to.

His hands rise in an almost desperate show of peace, but whatever words he was going to say devolve into a pitiful whine as Ana almost jabs a finger into his chest. Before she can continue her tirade, however, you rush to push yourself between them with a strangled ‘Wait!’

This has spiralled so far out of control at this point that you feel dizzy, but by god, you’d really like to avoid a lawsuit and a fight.

“This is all just a misunderstanding!” One of your own design, at that, but that’s not important right now. Ana’s gaze flicks up at the stranger behind you, unconvinced, but you do your best to attract her attention back to you. “I was lost in my thoughts and got all jumpy when he came to ask for help! He didn’t do anything wrong or say anything bad, I promise. This is all on me.”

Ana says your name at the same time as you hear an almost offended ‘Hey now!’ from behind you, but whatever words the unfortunate soul behind you was gonna say dies with another glare from your boss. You don’t need to look behind you to guess that he’s all but cowering behind your form at this point.

Still… Ana doesn’t not seem convinced, at least.

She sighs, deep and heavy, and it’s only due to the sound that you release a shaky breath of your own, one you didn’t know you were holding, and let your shoulders sag.

“You mean it?” she asks, still suspicious, still so caring. It’d make your heart swell on any other occasion. As of right now though, you’re too hyped up on adrenaline to really feel the full force of her attempts at reassurance.

You nod as decisively as you can in this scenario. “I mean it.” You feel unnerved, like daggers are being pointed at you from behind, but you know that it’s all in your head. The man behind you shouldn’t suffer for your actions.

Thankfully enough, that seems to be enough for Ana to stand down at last, and the remaining vestiges of her righteous fury melts away into subtle sheepishness. She’s not ashamed, not by any stretch of the meaning, but she believes you. And that means that she has to come to terms with the fact that she all but yelled at a completely innocent patron for no reason.

Shuffling for a moment, Ana looks to the stranger, you, and back before her hand settles at the back of her neck, rubbing at the skin there with a twisted expression. “Guess I overreacted then…” she mumbles. “Sorry about that.”

It’s not the most heartfelt of apologies, despite you knowing it’s a genuine one, and for a moment, you’re afraid it won’t be enough. Your worries don’t last for very long though.

“Apology accepted!” the man behind you chirps, almost too cheery for someone that basically got threatened in every way except the words themselves, but when you look over your shoulder at him, his smile is bright and wide and so unbelievably warm that it’s hard to think it could be anything but perfectly real. “You were just trying to protect a friend, right? That’s very noble of you! Let’s just say nobody was at fault for this little misunderstanding…”

He must feel you staring, because suddenly, he looks at you, catching you red-handed. You almost jump again - emphasis on almost - but the way he tilts his head, ever smiling, is only kind. “Hmm?”

It takes you a moment to realise he’s looking for agreement from you and, dumbly, all you can do is nod.

Distantly, you hear one of the kids call Ana’s name, sounding both impatient and worried, and she winces minutely. Of course. She must’ve left the kids when she heard something was going on. A new lump of embarrassment and shame rises, but you don’t have the time to address it before she’s on the move.

Ana holds one edge of the bookshelf, and looks back to both of you, thoughtful and decisive at the same time. She hums. “We’ll leave it at that, then… If you do decide to get something, though, we’ll throw in a discount on the house. Actions speak louder than words for me.”

Before either one of you can argue - not that you ever would - Ana leaves and suddenly, the two of you are alone again. It’s silent for a moment.

The urge to apologise again rises within you, but the high sigh of relief from behind you cuts you off before you can.

“Hoo-ee! Well, wasn’t that a kerfuffle?”

Turning, you see the man with a hand over his heart, but with that same ol’ smile still plastered on his face. It’s only then that you notice you’re still standing just a bit too close for comfort, and scramble just a little to give him more room.

(Or maybe that’s just the excuse you tell yourself.)

“Yeah...” You just barely manage to bite back another apology. “At least… At least everything got cleared up in the end.” You can be grateful for that, if nothing else. If the stranger’s enthusiastic nod is anything to go by, he agrees. His curls bounce with the motion. You try to focus on that more than anything else, even if it still manages to remind you of something else.

“Absoposilutely!” That makes you stop for a moment.

You wonder if he’s trying to make you smile on purpose. Because it really, really feels like it. Or maybe he really is just that goofy.

(Don’t think any further than that. Don’t you dare.)

“What’s your name, anyways?” you ask, not willing to let your thoughts run away with you again. That doesn’t stop you from immediately regretting your word choice - why’d you have to ask it like that? - but thankfully, the kind stranger’s smile doesn’t budge even an inch.

With a flourishing display of jazz hands, the stranger finally gives you a name to put to his face. “You can call me Elio!” he excitedly introduces, and you return the favour while pushing down the seed of relaxation that passes through you. What did you expect him to say?

With introductions finally out of the way, Elio is more than happy to jump right into questions, asking about this book and that book, apparently having a little list in mind. The change of pace is enough to throw you off, but you adapt as best as you can. You lead him to where his newest little treasures lie, relishing in the smile you receive for a job well-done before moving on to the next. And then, when you finish getting him all of those books - stacked in a neat pile in the plastic basket you supplied him - he surprises you by asking you about your favourites.

He surprises you even more with how intently he listens to you describe some of your favourite books.

Elio isn’t the type to stand still for very long, you learn within mere minutes of his company, but he is rapt with attention whenever you speak. It makes it much too easy for you to blabber on for longer than expected, both due to the excitement of getting to promote your favourite stories and the underlying itch to distract yourself. His eyes aren’t particularly intense, per say, but you feel a touch unsteady all the same.

Your attempts at distraction work well enough for you to genuinely enjoy the time spent with him, but it doesn’t manage to make the approach to the cash register feel any less welcomed.

Elio, however, doesn’t seem to share the same opinion.

“But, but! I wanted to talk with you longer!” he whines, and he’s too endearingly disappointed for you to not feel some degree of bad. He’s pulling at your heart strings without knowing.

Your smile quirks slightly as you round your way around to the cash register, only still a touch stiff. “I mean… you could always come back, you know. The library is free of charge, after all.” Though you can’t exactly promise you’ll always be free to socialise… You don’t say that though, if only because you’re sure his frowny face might make you give a promise you can’t keep.

Still, Elio doesn’t seem fully convinced. He fiddles with his fingers, big brown eyes aimed downwards as you begin to scan his items. “I guess…”

You’re astounded as to how someone so tall can simultaneously look so small. You know you’ve done nothing wrong, and yet you still feel like you accidentally stepped on a puppy’s tail. It’s not lost on you that this isn’t the first time you come across a sentiment like this, but you push that thought aside because it’s different this time.

You’re startled out of your thoughts when, suddenly, Elio perks up. Before you can even ask what’s wrong - is something wrong? - his hand shoots quick as lightning to grab the last book you have yet to scan. Precisely, one of your favourite books that Elio had taken a shine to.

Your brows furrow, confusion mounting, but once again, you’re too slow.

“I don’t wanna buy this one!” he announces, but it’s almost a yell. You wince at the volume and he immediately recedes in on himself as another patron turns to him with a glower. He stage-whispers an apology their way, one they hardly seem to accept, before he turns back to you. “I… I don’t wanna buy this one,” he repeats, quieter this time. A bit too quiet, even, but that’s alright.

“That… That’s okay, Elio,” you assure. Does he think you’d be mad at him for changing his mind? You don’t look that easy to offend, do you? “I can just put that back if you–”

“NO!”

“SHH!”

Elio squeaks. “Sorry!”

You really struggle not to laugh at the exchange, but end up giving up a snort when Elio looks back to you with a pout. For some reason, he seems to be in slightly better spirits after that though, so you can’t consider it a loss.

“I don’t wanna buy this one,” Elio reprises for the third time, but this time, he continues. “I wanna rent it instead. I can do that, right? Then I’d have to come back to return it, right? And maybe get another book?”

This guy… really does wear his heart on his sleeve, doesn’t he?

Endearment bubbles within you. “Yeah. If you rent it, you’ll have to come back in three weeks-”

“Three weeks?!”

This time, you can’t help the full-bodied laugh that leaves you. Maybe it’s mean to laugh at such an anguished cry… but come on.

“Or earlier, Elio. You can come as soon as you’re done with it if you want! I just mean that three weeks is the deadline. You can renew it if you want, too. We’ve just gotta make sure you don’t run away with it.”

Immediately, Elio’s hand finds its way back to his chest, and his back straightens fully. “I would never steal! Especially from such a wonderful establishment!” he half promises, half exclaims, and you’re surprised at how confidently you feel like you can believe him.

You really hope your gut is right this time.

“I don’t think you would, either. It’s just policy, okay?” Gently, you make a motion for him to pass you the book back. He only hesitates for a moment before sliding it back to you. “Then I’ll put this to rent and I’ll… see you some time in the next few weeks..?”

“Scout’s honour!”

You shake your head with a faint smile and begin to pack away his books. All but two of them - the book he’s renting and a very cute origami instruction manual - are gifts, so you go to add a little ribbon to each one, only pausing to check in and see if he wants to pick the colours instead.

You’re unsurprised by how quickly he jumps to the occasion.

All the while, as you make the last bits of small talk before Elio has to leave, you push back against your own brain. It’s making far too many connections than you’re comfortable with, and it takes everything in you not to rush this whole interaction to a close.

Maybe this is good for you, you try to reason. If you can get new, good memories, then maybe you won’t think about… about him anymore. There’s a term for that, you’re sure, but you’ll just have to Google that when you get home.

You apply Elio’s discount, despite him trying to weasel you into not using it, and with that, you say goodbye. Elio makes it incredibly hard to look away from him until he’s out the door in full, what with his big waves and promises to come back soon and tell you all about how much he liked your book, and in his final departure, he leaves behind a resonating silence.

A silence which is very fitting for a library… but it feels strange, too.

You still can’t really decide how you feel about that whole interaction, feeling muddled and drained and just a tad out of breath, but as Ana slides back up to your side, you make sure to only show her a smile.

— — — —

The bag of books swishes to and fro with every wide step. Every inch away from the bookstore feels like agony, building up an anxious energy that can only be relieved by picking up the pace. If it wasn’t for the fact that the bag might break, he might’ve just started running, but for now, he’s grounded, forced to quell his excitement.

‘… You need to think this through. We can’t— you can’t just go in like that. You saw how they were.’

“But think of the chances! This is like fate! If we weren’t meant to be friends again, then we wouldn’t meet like this, right? Right?” He can’t help himself. He starts to skip. “We can be friends again, isn’t that great? Then things can go right back to normal!”

Audibly, he stumbles.

“Or, well, n-not normal-normal since all of— oh, you know what I mean!”

He couldn't just ignore you. You had changed a little, sure, but you were still you. Plus! He’s changed a little, too! And you once called him your Forever Friend! That means he has to be your friend again. That’s in the name!

‘… Just… be careful.’

Petulantly, he whines, but a heavy sigh discourages him from saying anything. It’s filled with stress. Enough so as to dampen the energy behind his skipping.

‘Look, we just… we can’t do any more harm. We’ve already—‘

This time, he cuts himself off.

‘… I still think we should stay away.’

He frowns. It looks deeper than it is.

“Well… I think we deserve a little bit of normalcy back!”

He’s afraid to ask, but… “Don’t you?”

The silence he gets back is deafening.

… He liked it better when you were there to fill the noise.

#Daye writes #Runaway Coward #Déjà vu is such a funny thing isn’t it?#Life is just chalk full of completely unrelated coincidences #How fun :)#fnaf sun #fnaf moon #sun x reader #moon x reader #writing

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steddie-interactions · 2 years

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An Hour Before Closing

Inspired by this post: x Short little ficlet, nothing more. Robin helps Steve talk some stuff out. Support, comfort, and platonic love.

Steve continued to rewind the VHS, knee bouncing as he spoke. His words were fumbling out as if they needed to be said at a fast pace or else they'd never get out. All the while Robin is nodding her head along to his ramblings.

"I'm just saying," Steve looks away from her to load in the next tape. "He's the most beautiful person I know and he's very attractive but like," Air escapes from him in a huff. "That's gay and I'm straight."

The machine continues to stay on standby, its jaws wide open to receive another tape, but Steve is just staring at it. With a posture resembling a person who looks tired, he pinches the bridge of his nose with a deflating sigh. "I mean, I've dated lots of girls, Robin. I've had, well... you know, sex. I didn't hate it or get grossed out by that, so I am not gay."

"It's okay to have feeling like this," Robin starts while putting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "Seriously, Stevie. It doesn't necessarily mean you are romantically involved or that you're a gay person. Not that being one would make any of us see you differently."

Steve finally looks at her again and Robin smiles before continuing, "Just means that you have a very great friendship. And hey," She wiggles her brows. "Even straight people can admire the same sex in a complimentary way."

Robin had expected him to smile or maybe even chuckle — something else that wasn't staring at her as if she grew another set of eyes on her face. Then he spoke in such a calm manner as if stating the weather conditions outside.

"Yeah, but I'd fuck him."

Robin blinked as she digested this, trying to not gawk at the blatant statement that Steve just admitted to. "Uh, well, yeah... Yeah, that changes a couple of things."

"What do you mean?"

Robin put her other hand on his vacant shoulder while leaning down a fraction more to level their gaze. "Stevie, there's more than just straight and gay — so much more and there's no true or wrong way to go about it. You might be bisexual or pansexual or even demiromantic — who knows. Labels are just labels and not everyone fits perfectly into some box. I say," Robin gentle poked the center of Steve's chest. "Follow your heart."

"Easier said than done," Steve gently pushed, the chair rolling backward, successfully putting distance between them.

"True," her hands picked up the forgotten VHS and popped it into the machine, starting it up. "But you'll never know the answer to all those questions in your head if you don't start asking — or, well, confronting things." Robin watched Steve get up and walk around the counter to start putting away the tapes ready to go back on the shelves.

"Besides," She continued, "like I said, we won't judge you. I definitely won't look at you any differently. You are still Steve - the hair - Harrington to me — us. The kiddo's might ask a few questions but that's just how kids are. I'm sure even Nancy will support you."

With his back facing Robin, Steve shut his eyes. "I hope you are right, Rob. I really do." His gaze refocused and he looked over his shoulder to his coworker. "Now, enough about me and my problems. You gonna' help me wrap things up or do you wanna' stay after closing?"

"Oh, yeah, no — I could do without that." She grabbed a few tapes from the cart after rounding the counter. "And Stevie?"

"Yeah?"

"I love ya', you dork."

Steve smiled softly at that, "Love you too, dork."

#Steddie adventures #(← my tag for ficlets)#steddie ficlet #steddie #steddie imagine

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

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Demigod MC Series: Hestia

This is another eternally virgin goddess, so we're doing another pseudo-demigod by adoption (like we did with Athena).

Demigod MC: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2, Poseidon, Ares, Hestia

Hestia is the goddess of the Hearth, Home, Architecture, Domesticity, Family, and the State. She's high up there (firstborn of Rhea and Cronus), but several factors have led to her falling into the background when compared to the other (flashier) Olympians. She swore to never marry, rejecting proposals from both Poseidon and Apollo, and is something of an antithesis to Aphrodite.

Lucifer

Honestly? He thought they were exactly what they were after. A weak human with no experience in the magical world what-so-ever.

Well… He was half-right.

On the surface, this is a pretty weak human. They don't have super flashy powers or a divine birth from the gods… but they do have a very protective adoptive mother.

The brothers had just settled in for their first dinner with the new human when the goddess herself strolled into their dining room, asked who was in charge, then dragged Lucifer away by the ear!

She's not even his mother, yet he felt the intense urge to apologize and put himself in his own room… Oh, the humiliation… at least she did the same to Diavolo…

The Prince was only able to calm her down by promising absolutely NO harm would come to her child… on their heads...

By the time the goddess finally let him go, Lucifer was about ready to shackle the MC to his wrist so nothing could touch them but he settled on keeping them with him like an assistant of sorts. They were in charge of helping him with the paperwork so he could keep an eye on them.

What he didn’t expect was for them to be so… good at it? They could keep his offices clean, they managed his daily schedule, fixed up the House, and still have time to bring him tea and sweets every night!

They could even reign in his brothers somehow… They weren't strong or intimidating, but one or two mildly unhappy words out of them and everybody would be on their best behavior.

Was everyone positive they're only human...?

As much as he hated to admit, he may have a slight deep case of falling for the housekeeper… He would make a move, but well…

He has Beel to contend with first.

Mammon

Okay so, watching Lucifer get dragged out by the ear just like Raphael used to do to him was hilarious!!! The whole room got a good laugh! 🤣

Until Hestia glared at them and suddenly they all felt like they'd disappointed someone important….

And all that fuss over some dumb human??

So what if they made amazing food?

So what if they could clean the entire mansion in a day?

So what if they were the walking equivalent to a warm cup of cocoa on a winter's day??

So what if they were just the kindest, sweetest thing in this godforsaken hellscape and he would throw himself in front of a bus to keep them safe-

-Wait, when did that happen?!?

Seriously, Mammon's attachment to the MC came out of NOWHERE to him. One day, he was threatening to eat their soul and the next he's freaking out when they stub their toe!

He swears they have to have some kind of magic about them! A charm, or a spell, or… their lovable smile and warm, loving hugs...! 😊

Damnit!! They're too cute!! He needs them to go away but also never leave, thanks. 😒

In all seriousness, though their kind nature puts Mammon's tsundere self at a bit of a disadvantage, his protective instincts shoot through the roof whenever they're involved.

Naturally, that means his day is spent running them away from hungry lesser demons or shielding them from Beel and Lucifer's tug-of-war matches… He's a busy guy these days. 😖

Leviathan

They're so… so… MOE!!!

That was his immediate thought when Mammon brought them home. He was expecting a defenseless human, but not one that could have stepped out of one of his slice-of-life manga!

To be honest, his instant thought was try and find a place to sit them on his shelves with the rest of the adorable characters he loves… 😅

And that was before they even opened their mouth! Five words into their introduction and he was ready to get their face on a t-shirt!!

Honestly, combine their natural cuteness with their household skills and they made for perfect waifu/husbando material…

Not helped by the fact they found one of his maid/butler outfits while doing the laundry one day. Not only did they ask if they could wear it, they actually non-ironically liked it and started wearing it around the House!!

Oh he got cornered by Beel, Lucifer, and Mammon separately that day because they thought he was using them for fetish fuel… But it was their idea, he swears!!

I mean… He didn't discourage them or anything either but still…

If Beel hadn't claimed them on Day One, Levi might have eventually thrown his hat in the ring too... Oh well… he can pine from a distance… What else is new? 😔

Satan

He has a video of Hestia dragging Lucifer out of the dining room on his phone and it's one of his most treasured possessions now. 😌

He is perhaps the only person in the House who was not at all impressed with their little human.

So they could cook? So could he. So they can clean? That's not impressive. They could manage a household? Big deal, he's more or less been in charge of the same thing for centuries!

As far as he saw it, there was nothing the MC could do that he couldn't do as proficiently or even better. There was nothing remarkable about this human at all!

… except for one thing.

That maid/butler outfit of Levi's? The one they like to wear around?

It has cat accessories…

Either they don't notice or they don't mind it but they essentially walk around the House cleaning things with little kitty ears attached to their head and a bell on their collar…

Dammit… Why did Levi even buy that?!?

Satan ended up getting in trouble for enchanting their outfit to give them REAL ears and a tail "accidentally..." Lucifer strung him up by his toes, Beel gave him a black-eye, and Mammon still calls him a "perverted cat freak" but it was worth it, he says, worth it!!

Asmodeus

Oh Beel…

Asmo saw Beel's feelings for the MC coming from a mile away. He didn't even need to confirm it with a sniff check, he had them scented by the end of their first night!

Lucifer, on the other hand, now that was a surprise... 😏

Ask him a century ago if Lucifer would ever consider a human lover, godly mother or no, and he'd have laughed! Yet here he is, giving gifts and sneaking whiffs of their adorable new housemate!

Of course, that's causing some commotion because they're pitted against each other, but Asmo finds it kind of cute honestly.

Beel and Lucifer aren't fighting, not for real. The whole house knows Lucifer would win in a real brawl, but neither of them actually want to hurt the other… They're far too close for that.

So Beel tosses Lucifer around with kid gloves and Lucifer holds back considerably against Beel. It's pretty much just two brothers who love each other squabbling over the same toy… 🤭

Honestly, Lucifer might have bowed out by now and just let Beel have them but now his pride's on the line… thus an endless tussle between family and the sweet MC is in the middle, clueless to it all!

Tragic, is it not? But it certainly makes things more entertaining around here! (Good thing too since Beel beat him to the punch… If it's a fight against those two, he'll have to keep any of his own affairs with the MC under the radar... 😏)

Beelzebub

He has claimed this one. Full stop.

For a bit of perspective: when Barbatos needs cooking tips, he calls Hestia. Hestia, the Divine Master of All Things Cooking. Hestia, the goddess who raised this MC…

Needless to say if they have any magic at all, it's in the kitchen.

If food is the way to Beel's heart, this MC has claimed his heart, soul, and probably all of his vital organs. Their food is astounding!! Always perfect every time and so good it brings him to tears!

It started the night of that first dinner, prepared by MC. He was too busy scarfing down the table to even notice a goddess showed up and then he proposed to the MC with their own pig roast by meal's end!

They said no to marriage, but an instant pact agreement suited him just fine.

Beel didn't waste a single moment before he started treating them like a potential mate, territorial aggression and all, but there was a bit of a catch… He kept the MC totally oblivious to it.

Surprisingly, Beel's can turn the "They're MINE" part of his brain on and off pretty well. He's nothing but sweet and cuddly to the MC when they're around and even with his brothers!... as long as they don't try anything.

The moment he caught whiff that Lucifer might be pursuing them too, it was on. Suddenly the two brothers who almost never fight were in competition against each other! But of course, both have an unspoken rule to never do so in front of MC.

And now poor MC believes it's common for demons to "play wrestle" like puppies and hugs are traditionally supposed to be so hard they could snap spines…

And it doesn’t look like they'll be backing down any time soon… Oh dear...

Belphegor

You know what? For once, everything goes exactly to plan for Belphie!

No really, this MC has no hidden powers, no magic horses, not even Demon Nip. They are a helpless, trusting little human who just wants to help their big teddy bear get his twin back!

So, you know how it goes. The charm, the lies, the treachery and all of that. He even gets to kill them!! Oh, happy days!! 😁

Come to think of it, they did smell an awful lot like Beel… But who cares, as long as Lucifer suffers right?? And this whole "living together in harmony" crap fails, right?!

Wrong.

Beel went ballistic. Lucifer did too, but Beel was what really hurt…

Belphie can safely say that in all of his life, Beel has never physically attacked him. Not once, or at least, not with intent to kill…

But when the sixthborn's fist went crashing through the wall right by his ear that day, he knew his brother's first instinct was to aim for his head… and his second was to miss, as he still loved him, but only by just a little.

What the hell did he just do??

Thank their father for Barbatos and all the funky time stuff he can do because bringing the MC "back" snapped his angry brothers right out of it.

Things should have been smoothed over at that point but as everyone was finally settling down for tea, Hestia made another appearance in the House… this time carrying a butcher's knife!

Time fix or no, Diavolo had promised her no harm would come to MC and at least one continuity of them DIED… so punishment was now on Lucifer and the Demon Prince himself!

Belphie, in a rare case of guilt and an expression of brotherly love, offered to take their place since it WAS kind of all his fault. His gesture softened the Goddess of Family juuust enough to lighten his sentence from execution to hard labor.

And thus, the MC had their own housekeeping assistant for a whole year, complete with bitter reluctance and a matching maid outfit! Cat-theme and all!!

He's sending nightmares to anybody who laughs… guaranteed. 😒

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me demigods

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nyuksw · 3 years

Text

The Shop — Sunwoo, smut

warnings: sex toys, kinda public sex, unprotected sex, masturbation, oral (my old work being modified and re-posted)

You were walking towards the shop you’ve seen so many times as you drove by almost every day. You decided to wear a hoodie despite the warm weather just to pull on the soft material over your head, wearing some dark shades and hugging your bag closer to your chest. Anyone that could see you right now would think you were buying something else. You parked just in front of the shop, yet the walk through the short distance felt way too long for your liking.

Walking through the big front doors, the sensor bell goes off making you pursue your lips. Why did it have to indicate someone coming in?! You took a deep breath, hoping no one would come to greet you or even offer their help, a blush already creeping up your cheeks just by thinking about it.

You looked around the shop, plenty of toys decorating the walls and the shelves, some that you have never seen or even imagined existed. Different sizes, uses, what even are those?! Your eyes widening upon seeing a weird long shaped object by one of the shelves.

“Okay maybe I should leave, I shouldn’t have listened to my friends.” you whispered to yourself, turning around and ready to sprint towards your car.

But before you could even take a step, a male voice spoke behind you. “Hello, welcome to Cupid’s Box. Looking for anything in particular?”

You closed your eyes, suddenly feeling too shy to even move. You turned around slowly, coming face to face with a tall and handsome guy, flashing you a bright and friendly smile. You scanned his face, eyes moving down his tall body. Luckily you were still wearing those shades or he would’ve noticed you were checking him out.

“I was uhm, I was just looking around.” you said, your voice coming out hesitant.

He raised an eyebrow at you, eyeing you quickly and biting back a smile. It’s not the first time he has encountered customers like you, coming in in disguise to shop, some even leaving without stepping inside. You were nervous and embarrassed, he clearly could see that.

Bringing a hand up to your face he took the glasses and removed them from your face, revealing your pretty eyes that were already wide in surprise and frantically looking at everything and everyone but him.

“If you’re going to just look around, you should remove these at least so you could see better.” He said while chuckling, “I’m Sunwoo by the way, I’d gladly assist you today.”

“Thank you, Sunwoo. But I was just passing by, not really shopping.” you said one more time, rather than trying to convince him it sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself of it.

“Are you sure? I mean, based on your outfit, the dark shades and the way you’re holding your bag, I can tell that you entered the shop with plans of buying something but you got too embarrassed and if it wasn’t for me talking to you, you would’ve ran out. Am I right?” He tilted his head to the side slightly and raised an eyebrow at you.

You pulled your hood away from your head, fixing your hair with a huff, “Fine, yes. I wanted to get a.... toy.” you said, still avoiding his eyes.

“Do you have anything in mind? A dildo, vibrator, perhaps both in one?” he asked and for the first time you locked eyes with him, he was very handsome and that smile, ugh that smile was enough to get your knees buckling.

“I don’t know, I came here without a clue of what exactly I'm looking for.” you laughed nervously but he smiled at you yet again

“Don’t worry, that’s why I'm here. First of all I need to know something, do you prefer clit or g-spot stimulation?”

“Well I have never had a g-spot orgasm,” you chuckle awkwardly, remembering how your ex never really focused on your pleasure and rather on his own, as well as other casual one night stands you’ve had here and there, which is why you’re currently standing on a sex shop. Hoping to get something to pleasure you the way no guy has ever done, and when you look up at him again he is just looking at you expectantly, “so I think a clit one will work better.”

“A vibrator it is then!” he said excitedly, clapping his hands together, “please follow me.”

You followed him through the shop towards the other side, glancing around and seeing the amount of toys there were besides the typical ones you knew. There were nipple clamps, butt plugs, whips, cock rings, lubes. Eyes wide and a deep pink blush over your cheeks as you eyed them, quickly turning around and gluing your eyes on the back of the tall and handsome worker.

“Here it is, our most famous vibrator.” he said, suddenly stopping and making you crash on his back, letting out a small sorry you took a few steps back and observed the pink colored device on his hand.

“This guy here is made from body safe silicone, it has 10 ultra powerful vibration intensities and 6 vibration patterns. It’s usb rechargeable and shower friendly too. Pretty good for someone who is just starting to get into toys.” he explained, extending the toy out for you to take it and see it yourself, but instead of focusing on the pink toy, your eyes were glued to his long pretty fingers. Unsure if it was because of the shop’s atmosphere or because you were that needy, your mind started to wonder how those fingers would feel if he- wait, no. You blinked rapidly, quickly glancing up at him and nodded, “I’ll buy that one.”

He raised his eyebrows at you, “Are you sure? You don’t want to see other options? There are some other ones with more functions.” he suggested but you quickly shook your head.

“Alright then.” he grinned and started to walk towards the cash register.

“Would you like to buy anything else?” he asked as he started to scan the code, looking up at you a few seconds later only to see you looking at some cuffs that were on the counter next to you.

“Perhaps those?” he suggested.

You looked at him, shaking your head and looking down as you took out your wallet, “I don’t have anyone to use those with so I’ll pass. How much do I owe you?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, biting his lip to prevent a smirk from forming on his lips as he just learned that you were single, but you caught it and yet again, just by it you were somehow getting aroused. Damn it, you really need to get out of there soon and get home right now.

“That would be $95.” he said and you immediately handed him the money.

He started to work packing your order, and you noticed he was hesitant about something. Eyeing him curiously until he finally decided to speak up.

“You don’t remember me?” he questioned.

You frowned, “Remember you?”

“Yeah from school, I’m Kim Sunwoo. We were classmates pretty much from kids until highschool.” he chuckled.

Your eyes widened in shock and horror, your life almost flashing right in front of you. As if this wasn’t already embarrassing enough, the guy working there and helping you get a sex toy, was an old friend.

“I thought you would recognize me. I guess I changed?” he chuckled, trying to hide the small disappointment from you not recognizing him.

You took the bag and tried to hide it in your purse but it was too big so frustrated you simply rolled the plastic bag with the box trying to cover the name of the shop on it and held it closer to you.

“Thank you for purchasing here at Cupid’s Box. I hope to see you around here again.” He said smiling at you but you quickly nodded and muttered a quick thank you before turning around and quickly walked towards your car, totally missing the way he made emphasis on the last sentence.

You arrived back home, already feeling a little bored as it was still a little too early. Your mind going back to Sunwoo, there was something about him that caught your eye. Just thinking about him already made you feel that tingling sensation down there, biting your lip you took the toy from the bag and went into your room.

Laying in bed after removing your clothes, hands exploring your own body, sliding your hand down your body, thinking all the time about Sunwoo, wishing it was his hand the one touching you right now. A soft moan leaving your lips the moment your fingers came in contact with your already sensitive clit, squirming a little as you started to rub it slowly.

You extended your arm to the side where you left the vibrator, taking it and turning it on in the lowest mode, you opened your legs a little more, fingers spreading your own folds as you lowered the toy against your clit. Moaning loudly as it sent waves of pleasure, throwing your head back, thinking about how that pretty face would look between your legs with those pretty plump lips eating you out. You clicked on another button, putting the vibrator on a higher mode, the sudden shock making you close your legs with the toy still between them as you became a whiny mess.

You were getting closer to your orgasm, but before you could even reach it, the vibrator stopped working. Snapping your eyes open, you clicked continuously on the buttons trying to get it on again.

“This can’t be happening.” you groaned in frustration, taking the toy from between your legs and continued pushing every button. You stood up from bed and grabbed the charger, maybe it ran out of battery. But plugging in you realized the battery light didn’t turn on, which meant the vibrator completely died out of nowhere after purchasing it just an hour ago.

“Best one my ass.” you muttered angrily, quickly putting on some clothes again after cleaning up and throwing the toy into your purse, storming out of your apartment and driving all the way to the shop again.

It was almost closing time, Sunwoo was preparing everything to close when he saw a car carelessly pull up in front of the shop, sighing and thinking that maybe it was another weird customer doing some last minute shopping before their night wild adventures. But to his surprise he saw you walking into the store, hair a little messy as well as the clothes, it was like you just threw on whatever and didn’t even look in the mirror.

Raising his eyebrows as he watched you walk towards him, hand going inside your bag and pulling the vibrator you got earlier that day, slamming it down on the counter right in front of him and looking down at it with a questioning look before looking back at you, this time noticing your flushed cheeks.

“I want a refund.” you said glaring at him.

“I’m sorry but our policy says we can’t refund money for us-”

“This thing died on me right before I was about to orgasm. It didn’t even last 20 minutes and it simply stopped working. It seems I just can’t get pleasure, not even with a damn toy. My ex, who was a total asshole by the way, never cared about satisfying me too, no guy has ever for that matter. I came here hoping to get something better that could do the work they don’t but I just got scammed because this thing didn’t do anything.” you rambled and Sunwoo only stared at you. You were very frustrated, sexually frustrated to be exact, so you didn’t care at this point about rambling to a hot old classmate at a sex shop.

“I’m really sorry for the inconvenience, some toys come with malfunctions from the factory. Since the toy has been used I can’t give you a refund, but I can offer you some amazing deals for another toy.” he suggested, quickly glancing at the clock to his side.

“No, I don’t want another toy! Or maybe I do, I don’t know. I just want to be fucked either by a dick or a toy, I don’t care anymore.” you groaned, throwing your hands in the air.

Sunwoo glanced at the clock again, 9:00 PM finally, closing time. Smirking, he turned around to look at you again. “Here at Cupid’s Box, our customer’s satisfaction is our priority. So let me make it up to you and not exactly with a toy.”

It took you a moment to fully process what he just said, opening your mouth to talk only to close it again. You were taken aback, but you weren’t even sure if he really insinuated that or you just misinterpreted his words.

“How?” you asked, decided to play along and maybe get to somewhere with it.

“Let me be the one to pleasure you,” He smirked, walking behind the counter until he was out of there and in front of you. Placing his hands against the counter, making sure you cage you in his arms, he leaned closer to you, lips ghosting over yours as he kept talking, “let me be the one to make up for the toy and all those assholes you’ve slept with that doesn’t know how to treat you right and give you what you need.”

“Do it already then.” you said and he crashed his lips against yours, hands messily touching each other. You weren’t the only one who wanted this, the moment he stepped in Sunwoo laid his eyes on you, so timid and innocent yet you wanted to buy a sex toy. But then when he took off your glasses he recognized you, the person who he always had a crush on, old feelings surfacing again and seeing you buying toys really turned him on. Leaving him the entire day alone with his imagination thinking about you using the vibrator and maybe, just maybe, thinking of him as you did.

He lowered his hands, unbuttoning your pants and dragging them down. He grabbed you by the waist and lifted you up, placing you on the counter without breaking the kiss. He settled between your legs, moving his hands up to lift your shirt and remove your bra. Licking his lips when he saw your exposed body, his cold fingers ghosting over your nipples, watching them get hard before leaning down to wrap his pretty lips around one.

He explored your upper body with his lips and tongue, attacking your neck and chest, leaving marks as he lowered a hand until it was on your clothed core, making you gasp and buck your hips against his hand. He smirked against your skin, liking the way you were reacting to his touch and he didn't even start yet. He pressed his fingers against it, feeling your wetness through the material.

“You’re already this wet for me?” He murmured, trailing kisses all the way up to your neck.

He pushed your panties to the side, fingers tracing up and down your slit before pushing two inside you. The coldness of his fingers just made it feel even better before they warmed up, he moved his head and captured your lips once again as he kept pumping his fingers in and out of you. He pulled his fingers out of you and pulled down your panties, spreading your legs again and kneeling down until his face was in front of you.

He decided to tease you painfully slowly, looking up at you with a smirk on his face before sticking his tongue out and giving you a quick lick, lips leaving kisses all over your thighs before moving back and started giving you short kitten licks. The movements of his tongue were slow but precise, starting from your slit all the way up towards your clit. Flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, earning a moan from you. Smirking proudly against your folds, he decided to speed up his work.

Thrusting two fingers inside you again, his lips wrapped around your clit and started to lick and suck on it, feeling you clench around his fingers making him groan against you. The sounds coming out from his throat sent vibrations against you, lowering a hand you ran your fingers through his curly hair, pulling on it as you started to grind against his mouth. He curled his fingers inside you, pressing on your sweet spot as his tongue quickly laped over your clit.

“that’s it, cum on my mouth.” he murmured, tongue going back to doing its job, pushing you over the edge seconds later and orgasming. You let go of his hair, slamming your hand on the counter for support as you leaned back, shaking and moaning in pleasure as he kept licking clean your folds.

You opened your eyes, looking down at him as he placed one last kiss on your inner thigh and stood up, licking his lips.

“You taste so sweet.” he said, hands sneaking around your waist pulling you towards him, lips meeting yours again into a slower but still heated kiss. He lifted you up from the counter, helping you to get off.

Hands quickly moving to unbutton his pants and pulling them down along with his underwear, his erection touching your thighs making you pull away. You looked down, licking your lips at the sight, quickly getting on your knees you wrapped a hand around it and took him into your mouth, humming in satisfaction as you did. You bobbed your head, taking him fully before pulling away, using your hand to jerk him off. Your tongue giving him a long lick from the base to the tip, lips wrapping around it again.

“Oh fuck, fuck Y/N.” he said under his breath. Looking down, eyes fixed on how pretty you are looking with his dick in your mouth. You started to speed up your movements, making him shut his eyes and groan. But before he could even get closer to his own climax, he pulled you away and helped you up. A hand wrapped around your neck and the other one cupping your boob, thumb playing with your nipple.

“I want to fuck you, I want to cum with my dick buried inside of you.” he said, lips hovering yours as he spoke before pressing them and kissing you, biting your lip as he pulled away.

“Wait, what if someone walks in?” you said, remembering you were still in the shop.

“Are you worrying about that now? Someone could have already walked in and see your pretty pussy being eaten by me or you sucking my cock.” he chuckled, “this is a sex shop, weird and kinky people walk in every day. I don’t think they would have a problem seeing me fuck you right here, doesn’t being caught excites you? Hm?” he said, murmuring against your skin as he trailed kisses down your neck.

Those words alone were making you wet again already, throbbing and clenching around nothing as he whispered next to your ear and neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin and sending shivers down your spine. He turned you around, bending you over the counter and spreading your legs with his knee. He removed his shirt and threw it somewhere on the floor along with the other clothes, pumping himself a few times as he took a good look at you all bent over, throbbing and waiting for him.

He teased your entrance with the tip, pushing in slowly and taking it out again, making you whine. “Sunwoo, please. Just put it in already, please. Fill me up, I need to feel you inside me, I need you...” you begged, eyes shut and fingers gripping the edge of the counter.

“You really want it? Do you really want me to fuck you Y/N?” he asked, slapping his cock against your clit, what a tease.

“Just do it already Sunwoo or I swear t-”

He thrusted deep in you, making you gasp. It felt better than what you imagined, he filled you up just right, thrusting at a fast pace just like you needed, making sure you felt every inch as he was balls deep inside you. Your nipples rub against the cold surface of the counter as your tits bounced with every snap of his hips, adding more pleasure to the whole thing.

You were soaked, aching for him ever since you saw him earlier. It has been quite a long time since anyone has been inside of you, let alone fucking you this good. It was a pleasure that you never felt with anyone else, and definitely not even with the short period of time that vibrator worked. You hissed as he pulled out of you and slammed back in, hands sliding down from your hips to squeeze your ass before slapping it, his hand leaving a red mark.

His hand slid down your ass and towards your thigh, lifting your leg up until your knee was resting against the edge of the counter, the new angle giving him not only a better view but better access for him to sneak his hand between your legs and start rubbing your clit in circles. The new position making his cock hit your g-spot with every single thrust, “oh fuck.” you wailed, starting to clench around him.

Leaning down to kiss your shoulder as he kept thrusting and stimulating your clit, “come on baby, cum for me.” he murmured, your whimpers filling his ears making him groan by your hot sounds.

You felt it bubbling up in your stomach, slowly washing all over you until you were screaming out his name, still clenching around him as you rode out of your orgasm. You managed to lean back a little, just enough to turn your head to the side just enough, he cupped the side of your neck and leaned in to kiss you. He thrusted hard a few more times before he came, grunting and moaning your name against your lips. Feeling him twitch inside of you and filling you up with his cum.

He moved slowly inside you, making both of you whimper at the overstimulation. Letting go of your face he leaned back, pulling out of you and resting his forehead against your shoulder, you could feel his warm cum leaking out of you. He took a few seconds to steady his breathing before taking a step back just to see how his cum was dripping down your core, smirking proudly.

He extended a hand behind the counter and took out some wipes and paper towel, helping you clean up before handing you your clothes. You leaned back against the counter for support, your legs still shaking from the action. He finished putting on his clothes and turned around to look at you, a warm smile and fond look over his features now.

“You do that with every customer?” you questioned, unsure of what to say, trying to lift the mood even more in a playful way.

“Not really, you’re the first one.” he chuckled, making you raise an eyebrow at him. “And the last one because once my boss finds out what I did here, he will fire me. Not that I mind, I was planning to quit anyway.”

There was silence between you two, glancing at him to see him fixing his hair, probably not knowing what to say either.

“Thank you, Sunwoo. That was amazing.” you whispered, and you really meant it.

He turned around to look at you, his eyes getting lost in yours and a smile making its way on his lips. Shaking his head slightly, as if telling you that you don’t even have to thank him.

He took a step closer to you, “I, uh…” he was getting lost in his own words, not knowing how to properly phrase them. “I don’t want this to be just a one time thing and I don’t mean it just for the sex. Even though it was indeed amazing, I also want to be able to take you out and let me treat you right, like you deserve.”

You bit your lip, a blush creeping up on your cheeks and a smile already forming on your lips, “I would love that.”

His smile grew bigger, his eyes turning into cute crescents and you felt your heart swoon. “I have to close up, how about we get some dinner?”

“Sounds just perfect.” you said, leaning in and pecking his cheek, “i’ll wait.”

But before he could turn around to lock the front door, he extended an arm, taking something from the counter beside you. Wriggling in the air the handcuffs you were eyeing earlier that day, “better get these for the next time.” he said, shoving them into his pocket and winked at you, finally turning around to lock the place.

#sunwoo #sunwoo smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #sunwoo scenario #sunwoo scenarios #tbz sunwoo #tbz fanfic #tbz x reader #tbz timestamps #tbz scenarios #tbz drabbles

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Infatuation

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: It’s not a secret that Corpse prefers taking care of his hair himself rather than going to a hair salon to get it trimmed and/or tampered. However, he only has so much knowledge of how to properly do it without having to obliterate his budget. Luckily, his girlfriend comes to his rescue.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for the incredibly fluffy request! I’ve been very pumped to write it and now here it finally is - so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but I still hope you come across it and give it a read! Love, Vy ❤

“Um, what are you doing?“

I just walked into Corpse’s apartment to find him barricaded in the bathroom, giving himself a hair appointment. We were supposed to have a chill night in watching movies, but it seems to me like those plans will either have to be delayed or canceled, given the chaotic state both Corpse and his bathroom are in. I mean, how dumb was I to expect he was actually doing his hair justice when he told me he styled it himself? Why didn’t that immediately raise an army of red flags in my head and lead me to question his methods?

I’m honestly quite jealous of Corpse’s hair. It’s always so soft and silky and no matter how much or how little effort he’s put in it, it always looks good: either evidently carefully styled or boyishly messy, it leaves me with heart-eyes regardless. But to see him massacre it like this, it makes me wish I could report it as a crime.

“Ain’t obvious?“ He sounds rather frustrated and I feel at least slightly better due to this fact. He deserves to be as frustrated as I am by the sight of the crap he’s doing. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait for me for...a little while. I just need to get this under control and, um, clean the mess. Sorry for ruining your night like this, babe. I-I really wasn’t planning on it to take this long but I forgot to buy one of the products and I thought I could wing it without it but...I very clearly can’t so...“

“Please, stop talking. I don’t need to know what sins you’ve committed - if I do I’ll probably have to give you the silent treatment for like a week or so.“ I call out to him as I quickly skip over to the kitchen to leave the food I bought on my way over before returning to the bathroom and carefully taking a step inside, mindful of where there are hair strands on the tiles. Even severed, his hair is beautiful and I have a ton of respect for it - ok fine, I adore it. Corpse definitely doesn’t appreciate it properly. I walk over to the shower, reaching out to the two shelves inside which are lined with different types of hair products. “Oh fuck...“ I let out the whisper without even realizing it because I’m so stunned by the brands I see on those shelves. “Corpse, um, what the actual fuck?”

He turns to me, eyes wide and terrified because of my menacing tone. “What? What is it?” His gaze searches the spot where mine was just pointed at, looking for anything that could’ve provoked such a reaction from me. Seeing nothing but the hair products, he meets my deadly glare yet again, “What’s wrong?”

Alright, this man-child needs some serious help

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.“ I say, stomping towards the exit of the bathroom, “You’re gonna stay here and wait for me to come back and don’t you DARE, even touch your hair, let alone bring a pair of scissors or any chemical near it. Copy?“

“Copied and pasted, ma’am.“ He salutes me, knowing better than to ask questions when I enter my commander role. There are quite a few things that set me off into this bossy-ass persona, and hair mistreatment is most definitely one of them. Thing is, Corpse doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t know that, pretty sure he’s guessed it by now.

Feeling myself soften at his obedience and trust, I give him a smile and a wink over my shoulder as I go to grab my bag and leave the apartment to complete my mission, “Good boy.”

* * *

“Isn’t that a lot better?“ I ask, gently running my fingers through Corpse’s freshly cut, washed and dried hair. I’ve spent a good five minutes just smoothing through it with my fingers. I bet he’s expecting me to say ‘my precious‘ at any moment now, and trust me it’s tempting, but I still don’t, I won’t give him the pleasure of predicting my actions. Wow, we’ve really reached that level of being familiar with one another that I predict that he’s predicting what I’m gonna do next. While I’m a guessing game for him, I tend to think of myself as more of an open book. You just gotta be fluent in the language it’s written in to understand it.

I’ve gone off-topic, my bad.

“Yeah, you’re a lot less scary now.“ He tells me, his hand finding mine in his hair and taking it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.

We’re positioned so that we’re in front of the bathroom mirror with Corpse seated in a chair in front of me and I’m for once in my life towering over him from behind. Our height difference was threatening to be a hinderance in my work on his hair, but we easily figured it out.

I can’t help but laugh, “You know what I meant.“ I curl one of his already curly strands around the pointer finger of the hand that’s still wandering around the soft dark curls while the other remains in his gentle hold, resting on his shoulder.

“And you know what I meant.“ He shifts in his seat to look at me directly, not via the mirror, “Since when do you have a hair infatuation?“

I roll my eyes and retract my hands, defensively folding my arms over my chest, “It’s not an infatuation with hair, dummy. It’s an infatuation with your hair.” I correct him, doing quick work of styling the stray strands that fall over his forehead and eyes. “I really like your hair, you already know that. I can’t handle the thought you’re doing such a shitty job taking care of it.”

He shrugs, furrowing his brows, “Hey, I was buying top-shelf products, cost me a fortune every month, my hair was being treated like royalty.”

I roll my eyes once again, “High price doesn’t always equal high quality, Corpse. Did you ever stop to read what was in those products?” I don’t let him answer, I don’t need him to confirm what I already know. “Even if you did - which you didn’t - you wouldn’t know what each of those ingredients do to your hair. You see, taking care of hair, especially hair like yours, takes patience and knowledge. It’s practically an art form. It’s not like you can just buy any product that has ‘suitable for curly hair’ on it. There’s a lot more to that.”

It’s only after I finish my monologue that I realize he’s looking at me with amazed amusement in his gaze, almost like a parent listening to their kid talk about their wish of becoming an astronaut. “Since when do you know so much about hair? You’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I know you and now you wanna lecture me on hair care?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, exasperated by his stubbornness on the matter, “Who said being consistent with your hair products is a bad thing? You know, frequent changing of brands has the potential of being damaging as much as aiding.” I explain with the most amount of patience I can muster, now taking over the parent role myself, “And as for your previous question, I know so much because my mother is a hairdresser.”

His eyes widen in surprise. I can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to recall if I’ve ever told him this before.

“How come I don’t know that?“ He asks finally after a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“You ask that as though I just tell you things like that on the regular. Did you also want me to drop the info that my dad’s a mechanic in passing conversation about video games? Cause that’s a little hard to shoehorn in....“ He cuts off my sarcastic rambling with a brief peck to the lips. He’s the only person allowed to shut me up, and only like that. Anything else will earn him either an earful or a silent treatment.

Just kidding....unless...

“So, does that mean you’re continuing the family business?“ he asks when he pulls away, “I mean, you’re technically my personal hairdresser now.“

I furrow my brows playfully, “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Since I hired you approximately an hour ago.“ He beams up at me, satisfied that I’ve fallen in his trap.

“And what about my payment?“ I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looks to be contemplating for a second before he stands up from the chair, taking my hand in his leading me out of the bathroom, “Well, each appointment you’ll give me a different price, Miss Y/L/N. But, considering today was your first day, I choose to pay you with dinner.“ He sends a wink my way, laughing when he’s met with an unamused expression on my part as I stop in my tracks, causing him to halt his movements as well.

“You really plan on paying me with the dinner I bought?“ I raise an eyebrow at him, freeing my hand from his so I can put both my hands on my hips for the complete 'I’m far from impressed’ look.

“Yeah...? Problem?“ He asks, faking nervousness and guilt as he closes the distance between us, once again returning to the default of towering over me instead of it being the other way around.

“Several actually. First of all...“ I raise my finger in the air accusingly, ready to go off but the arm that wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground causes my words to die down, evaporating in a frightened squeal, “Corpse no!! Put me down!“

Of course, he ignores me, carrying me into the living room while I don’t know whether to thrash or stay as still as possible.

Tsk, so much for gratitude

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forsakenmis · 3 years

Text

After the snap

Summary: Wanda was snapped away. You, on the other hand, remained and had moved on. You moved out of the country, started a new job, and had even gone on a few dates. Then everyone came back and suddenly a familiar witch was knocking on your workplace door.

Pairings: Top!Wanda x Reader

Warnings: dark!wanda, oral (r receiving), strap, public sex, posessive wanda, mummy kink

You’d long put away the shield (so to speak) and were at a point that going back to everyone just seemed so jarring. Maybe you didn’t want to believe it wasn’t true. After five years of grieving, of building a new life, and suddenly everyone’s just….back.

Wanda was back.

You knew it was wrong to have not contacted her. For her, it must seem like yesterday that you were whispering your plans about eloping, but that was five years ago. You moved on. Found someone else. She was nice, sweet, normal. She worked as a custom officer but she could spend hours and hours talking about all these topics that fascinated you.

She also was very predictable and normal.

Admittedly, your relationship hadn’t quite been defined. You suspected she was seeing other people, keeping her options open, and you weren’t sure how long you two were going to last but you were enjoying the time that you had together.

On top of that, you had a job at a bookstore that paid your rent. Sure, it wasn’t as flashy as it was back then but you liked being surrounded by all the books, some new and some falling apart. You spent a lot of pride restoring the latter in the back. You never had much of a chance to read before everything happened, your life was mostly spent trying to make sure everyone didn’t die.

Your abilities were healing based and that was more useful than you had initially thought when you first met them all. In fact, you thought you were awfully inadequate compared to people like Steve Rogers, Thor and Wanda Maximoff. But your time was kept filled to the brim.

Your only time to relax was your time with Wanda.

It had started off innocent enough. She used to stay with you after you finished up in the medic bay. She’d have dinner with you. Admittedly, you were pretty sure she didn’t have many other friends in the complex. Then it grew until she was fucking you every chance she could get. How else would either of you relax?

But that was a long time ago. You were done with that life. You weren’t the same person anymore. You ran and started a new life and not even the idea of Wanda could make you go back and maybe she was just that–an idea.

You were confident none of them would find you. Natasha couldn’t. You knew she had been trying to track you down like she had for Clint but no one came knocking on your door. So if they couldn’t, you were pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to find you either.

You’d just closed shop, the sunset streaming through the shutters covering the windows, and were taking stock. It had been a quiet day, but it was always quiet on a Tuesday so you had easily reached the predicted quota. The one downside was your boss, but he was only around once a week.

He was the kid of some millionaire who was trying to be hip and all that. So he opened some urban bookstore but he was too busy partying to actually stay on top of the business. Which is fine-you liked that arrangement. You’ll keep the shop running and he’ll never be up in your business. It worked without a bump in the road.

You were nearly done for the day, all you had to do after was–

The bell attached to the door trinkled. Someone had walked in. It was nearly half past, well past closing, so surely your boss would understand if you told whoever it is to leave. You were behind the shelves, you couldn’t see who had walked in. They weren’t making a lot of noise. Some people just had that soft touch, usually women.

Coming out to the front, your mouth already opening to ask them to leave, your words died in your throat.

Wanda.

Your eyes were frozen on her face, her eyes, those big doe eyes that always drew you in. She was smiling, an expression full of relief, and she was taking you in, grazing your body, before she moved forward to close the distance.

You stepped back.

Frozen with the air changing. Heavier, like you could feel the gravity pulling you down. Her light, happy, expression melted off and confusion replaced it.

“Wanda,” you said, wanting to cut her off, you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t listen to her. She’d want you to come back. Five years for you, a few days for her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You may as well have slapped her.

“Shouldn’t be here?” Wanda repeated and you closed your eyes. For the first time in years, you heard her voice. That voice that whispered to you in your dreams. A voice you thought you could hear every time you were alone. “I think I’m exactly where I need to be.”

When you opened your eyes again, you jumped, she was right there. You didn’t even hear her footsteps. “Wan–” you began but then her lips were on yours, her tongue sliding into your open mouth and you grunted in shock. You didn’t kiss back but you didn’t push her off either. You froze. You let her tongue be pushed down your throat as her hands slid onto your cheeks.

Her thumbs beginning to rub small circles into your skin pushed you back into action, your hands going to hips to shove her off you hard enough that she stumbled back a few steps.

“Wanda, I can’t,” you hissed out. “It’s been five years. I…”

“Why aren’t you happy then?” Wanda asked, bewilderment splashed across her face and almost instantly did guilt wash through you. Like you were betraying her somehow. “I was gone for five years, and now I’m back. Why didn’t you come back? Surely, you didn’t move on that easily?”

With that, the guilt was gone.

“Easily?” You hissed out, your hands balling into fists, “don’t come into my shop and–”

You stopped. It was no use getting angry. Your sentences always fumbled into one elongated word that no one could ever understand. “You have no idea what the five years have been like,” you snapped and she tilted her head, just slightly, but enough that a cold chill went down your spine. “You shouldn’t have looked for me. I’m not interested in going back to the avengers. I moved on.”

With that, you turned on your heel to go behind the desk, tapping away at the register. Maybe if you ignored her, she’d get the hint and leave.

“So you developed an attitude?” Wanda remarked and slid her hands into the woollen cardigan that...you knitted her. You frowned when you made the connection. You spent hours labouring away at it. It wasn’t that good, the colours were awful, but she rarely took it off. “Seems we have to start at square one again.”

You frowned. You seem to be doing that a lot. You could already see the wrinkles beginning to form on your forehead. Why wasn’t she listening to you? “I’m seeing someone,” you blurted out as the cash register popped open loudly and Wanda’s face went blank as she registered what you just said. “A girl. She’s nice.”

You weren’t sure if you just signed this girl’s death certificate.

You kept eye contact with the Sokovian and even when her face morphed into a cold fury you hadn’t seen since the civil war. Her expression was tight and it almost looked like she was trying to hold herself back.

“I see.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a moment, “I...I know this can’t be easy for you either. I know it must seem like last week that...well. You know. I just...that life is over, for me at least. I hope you can understand.”

Wanda was silent. She was being too silent. She didn’t say anything, she stood there watching you, and you were too nervous to say anything else or make the next move. Maybe, hopefully, Wanda wouldn’t even say anything else, just walk out. Resent you for the rest of her life. It was better that way.

Instead she walked around the register and your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Wanda-”

“Shut up,” she hissed, her hand whipping up to grab your jaw. Your hands shot up to her wrists and she dragged you forward, closer to her face. “Do you really think I’d let you give up on us this easily? That I’d let you whore yourself out to some girl off the street?”

You didn’t say anything but your glare said enough.

“I trained you so well. I spent years breaking you in, years loving you, and you treat me like this? Like I’m just some common bitch you can throw onto the street?” Wanda’s tone didn’t match her words. Her tone was soft, almost a coo, sounding more disappointed than angry. You almost wished she was more angry than disappointed.

Her lips were on yours again and her hand moved to the back of your head, her teeth biting down into your lips and you groaned at the sharp pain, giving her entrance back into your mouth.

A hand went down between your legs, rubbing, and you instinctively opened your legs. Your body remembered her. Remembered her scent. Everything.

Wanda hummed in approval and soon you were being pushed onto the counter. She broke the kiss, pulling back to look down at you, her hands beginning to rub the inside of your thighs. “Just one night,” she whispered, her expression already having smoothed out, as if that kiss, your touch, was all she needed. “One night with me and if you still want me to leave by the end of the night...well, I’ll leave you alone. Forever. Even if you change your mind. Even if you come crawling back, begging.”

You doubted her. Something in the back of your mind didn’t believe her. On anything. You were pretty sure she wanted you to beg. Your hands were shaking and you gulped. Everything about this reminded you of when you were last happy. Like you were back in the avengers tower where nothing was going wrong.

Her lips were on yours again and her hands soon began to pull at your skirt, ripping them off you with ease, to find nothing but your bare cunt for anyone to see. You jerked up when her hand slammed against it, slapping it. Once, twice, three times, four. “You dirty little whore,” she whispered, “you let anyone and everyone see this, didn’t you?” She slid a finger into your folds and your bottom lip trembled.

“Wanda…” you whispered, feeling your own walls beginning to crumble. Maybe one night wasn’t so bad. One night. One indulgence.

“It’s mine tonight,” Wanda confirmed before suddenly her hands were on your waist and flipped you around and your stomach slapped onto the desk, taking away your breath, leaving you gasping. “You said I didn’t know what happened. In the past five years. You’re right, I don’t, but you’re going to tell me. Tell me everything I missed. If you leave anything out, and I know when you do sweetheart, I’ll stop. Understand me?”

“Yes,” you breathed out as you felt her mouth in between your legs, her tongue lapping at your clit and your back arched as you tried to push more of yourself into her. Soon, it started spilling out. What you did the first few months, how you struggled to get out of bed, how you travelled the world. Therapy. Everything. Her tongue didn’t stop, in fact the more you spilt, her tongue sped up, making you wetter and wetter by the second. “I couldn’t get you out of my head,” you mumbled by the end of it, “I found her. She was everything you weren’t. Mundane. Boring.”

Your stomach was tightening, that tempting release building and building, so expertly brought on by the way Wanda devoured you, the way she breathed onto your throbbing clit, the way her tongue teased your gaping entrance. When you stopped, she pulled away and you bit down onto your bottom lip to stop yourself from cursing.

“Such a good little whore for me,” Wanda purred, her hand falling in between your slit to rub your clit and the moan that left your mouth sacrificed any and all self respect that you might have been clinging onto. “This is where you belong isn’t it? Bent over for mummy. I treat you so well, don’t I?”

Two fingers dipped into your already gaping entrance pushing them in and out. “I think you deserve a little reward,” Wanda hummed out, “for being so honest with mummy.”

You didn’t have much long to prepare before you felt a strap push into your entrance and you gasped in a sharp breath, your eyes bulging and your body pressed forward. Wanda didn’t push into you completely, only pushed the tip in and out, focussing on the one area.

In truth, that was worse than if she shoved into you completely. You were forced to focus on that one area, not get that relief if she were to push in deeper, and it was as if she was grabbing at every inch of your mind, forcing you to feel nothing but that tip dipping in and out of your body.

“Tell me…” she whispered, her hands coming onto your waist to grip them, nails digging into your skin, “tell me where you belong, baby girl. Who you belong to. Look at you, five years without me and you still get so wet for me. I go in so easily. Don’t worry, baby, I’m not going to leave you again.”

“W-w-” you choked out and you took in a breath, trying to contain the moans slipping out of your mouth, “you said one–”

Her hand slammed down onto your bare ass and you jerked forward. Still, she didn’t go deeper, didn’t give you what you wanted. Still, you didn’t verbalise this. Your skin was stinging and your fingers reached up to hang onto the edge of the desk.

“Answer my question, don’t make me treat you like a common whore,” Wanda hissed, pulling out completely just to thrust back in, shoving more of the shaft inside of you, ripping your walls open, but then she pulled back to just the tip again.

Then the doorbell rang again and it was as if someone poured a bucket of ice cold water all over your body. Your vision was already blurring by this point but you could see her outline, the blonde hair, standing at the door.

Wanda slammed into you, bottoming out, and a scream shot out of your lips, whilst her hands were in your hair, pulling your head back until your neck was straining. She could see your face, see every expression you pulled as Wanda began to fuck you without restraint.

“If I were you,” Wanda’s voice broke through your moans and screams, icy cold and calm despite the way she was beginning to thrust inside of you, “I’d leave and never come back. If you knew what was good for you, you’d wipe my girl from everything. Phone, address, memories.”

You couldn’t hear what she said, you could hear her voice, but unlike Wanda, it was all a garbled mess. Even in this state, Wanda’s words were in absolute clarity. You watched her leave. The door clicked shut and you swore you could see red mist at the door, locking it.

Wanda bent over you, pressing down onto your back, lips pressing against your neck, sucking and nipping, her hips still pushing inside of you, pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm that was tightening at the base of your stomach.

Then her movements slowed until she was completely still, her strap still inside of you, your walls wrapped around it, clinging to it.

“Much better, just us,” Wanda whispered as she nipped at your earlobe and you moaned. “You take my cock so well, don’t you? No, I couldn’t dream of letting you go, not when you’re such a good girl for me. I’ll take you with me and I’ll give you the life you want. A normal life, where no one will ever hurt you. You can read all you want. Forget the world outside. Just us two, together.”

“Mummy,” you whispered and you could feel her body vibrate as she hummed in approval. “Mummy, please.”

“Tell me where you belong,” she whispered back as she began to move her hips again.

“With you, mummy, under you. I missed you so much,” you whispered, “I belong to you. I always have.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know you did,” Wanda whispered before she stretched up and her hands went to your elbows, pulling you up from the table before she began to rail you. Sharp thrusts, slamming into you again and again, and tears began to burn the back of your eyes as pleasure began to roll through you. “You're going to cum for me like a good girl. Then you’re going to lie on this table to wait as I go pack your bags. You live above this, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, mummy,” you choked out as your orgasm was already threatening to flow through you. You could feel your own juices dripping down your thighs and you knew that your boss would be walking in to find an absolute mess.

“And then we’ll leave. Together.”

“Together.”

It wasn’t long until you felt like you were choking on your breath, your stomach twisting and churning, your legs trembling, and it was Wanda keeping you up. Otherwise, you would have collapsed onto the table, even the ground.

Soon, you felt it. Felt that blissful euphoria that often put you to sleep wash over you in intense waves that made your toes curl. Wanda was laughing, quietly, as she felt you come undone around her strap. “That’s it, baby girl, let it all go. Good little whore.”

She slid out of you with a pop and you groaned, the disappearing sensation already sorely missed. “Mummy, please, I still need you…” you mumbled, your words drowsy and reality was folding inwards around you as you felt your body hit the table again.

“I’ll be back, in just a moment,” Wanda whispered into your ear before her warmth disappeared and you could hear her moving through the store and up the creaky stairwell. Then your eyes slid open and you took in a deep breath as you began to move. Pushed off the desk, your legs sore and shaky but stable, and you looked for the skirt, long discarded. You knew you only had a small amount of time before she realised or, god forbid, heard you. Pulling the skirt up you grabbed only your wallet, didn’t even dare grab your phone and risk being tracked. You can get a burner if need be. You knew it’d be difficult, if she found you here, then she’d be able to find you wherever you went but...maybe she’ll give up.

You didn’t go through the front door, not with the bell, but there was a small door leading out to the back. Your footsteps were silent as could be, and your heart was beating in your chest. One wrong step and she could hear you. You could hear the banging doors, even her humming, but she didn’t stop.

Soon, you were in the back alley, with nothing but overflowing bins and a motorbike there. Yours. The only thing you kept from Stark. Faster than anything you could buy in a store. You hated riding with a skirt, let alone with these shoes, but what choice did you have?

You only had so much time to run.

#wanda marvel #wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda #wanda x reader #top!wanda #wanda maximov #misfitwrites

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sugamamacustard · 3 years

Text

Reach So High.

Pairing: Alpha! Nishinoya Yu x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Tendo Satori x Omega! Reader

Genre: Fluff, So much tooth-rotting fluff.

Request: N/A

Summary: You’re used to the world around you not being kind to the vertically impaired, but you and you’re alpha get through it.

Warnings: Cavities.

Author’s Note: I am so cold right now. Like shivering.

Requests: Open!

NISHINOYA YU

➵ Yu knew what it was like to have issues reaching stuff on high shelves.

➵ To fall behind when people Tanaka with longer legs decided you need a “light” jog.

➵ To be used as an arm-rest.

➵ Being mistook for middle schooler- or worse, an elementary student.

➵ He understands all of these all too well.

➵ But that does not mean he won’t tease the absolute hell out of you.

➵ You’re his omega, so of course, he’s going to tease you.

➵ Never in a mean or demeaning way, absolutely not, but more light-hearted ways that make you both laugh.

➵ He would never even dream of hurting you, even for the sake of a joke. That’s not who he is, he worked hard to call you his omega and he doesn’t want to let you go ever. He wants to love you for the rest of your natural born live, and will not do anything to risk you.

➵ But, if you’re both in on the joke? Different story.

➵ He’s holding your drinks above your head, only giving them back when you reward him with kisses.

➵ He’s hugging you from behind and resting his head on yours.

➵ Or teasing you as he reaches shelves to your fingertips barely brush against, his own just barely reaching what you want.

➵ He’s draping his Karasuno jacket over your shoulders as a way to stake his claim.

➵ Noya knows he’s not always the most intimidating alpha, so he goes the extra length to make sure everyone knows your his.

➵ And the fact that your perfectly sized for him?

➵ He refuses to let you go, okay?

➵ He is doing everything in his power to be the perfect boyfriend and alpha.

➵ There are probably times Nishinoya runs himself ragged trying to prove himself.

➵ When those times come around, you simply have to be patient and explain he doesn’t need to do any sort of fancy things for you to love him.

➵ He’s also hesitant to have you with him during volleyball practices, especially practices when the bleachers-- which are a safe distance away-- are closed and your forced to sit on the teams bench.

➵ You’re so small and the balls are going so fast.

➵ He’s seen the aftermath with Hinata one too many times.

➵ Noya only really lets you watch if you promise to stay near Kiyoko or Coach Ukai, both of whom have fast enough reflexes to protect you if need be.

➵ Even then he’s apprehensive on having you there. But that only pushed him to be a better libero, to save the ball before it gets even close to the sidelines.

➵ He’s holding his breath whenever a fly serve is too far for him to get to, only for it to hit the wall miles away from you.

➵ His poor heart.

➵ He does, however, totally loves if you come to his games.

➵ There you’re in the bleaches, behind nets that protect you and high enough no fly serves can hit you.

➵ It makes him feel better and he’s always at the top of his game when you’re there.

➵ Everyone knows when you show up because he’s so happy and jumpy.

➵ And, if your wearing his Jersey? Especially if you’re wearing his jersey, he’s just so- He’s in love, is the best way to put it.

➵ Heart eyes, purring subconsciously, waving to you every time he gets on the court, nearly crying when you wave back, and both you of you shaping your hands into hearts when he’s off the court?

➵ He’s loosing it on the court, constantly pointing you out to his-- and the opposing-- team.

➵ “Hey, look at my omega! Aren’t they adorable?!”

TENDO SATORI

➵ Oh, ho, ho.

➵ Guess monster could not guess how much he would enjoy this.

➵ No, I kid, I kid. Tendo is honestly one of the best to have in this situation.

➵ He knows what it’s like to be teased because of things you can’t control.

➵ He had the same thing happen to him because of the way he looked. It happened up until he presented as an alpha and even then he was still called ‘Monster’.

➵ Part of the reason he first started courting you in the first place was because of your first introduction.

➵ You were the new manager, surprise surprise-- nothing notable. Shiritorizawa went through managers like candy.

➵ And then Goshiki introduced him.

➵ “This is Tendo Satori, our ‘guess monster-’” You stopped him. You questioned what made him a monster, puffing through your nose when he offered no reasoning.

➵ He fell then and there, he swears. Up and down, cross his heart.

➵ Everything else was pretty much history.

➵ He formed a friendship with you, solidified how much he cared about you and asked to court you with a hand made blanket for your nest.

➵ He absolutely adored you and everything you did.

➵ Bring him a fresh bottle of water after practice? He’s a purring mess. Remember to bring one of his jackets for him when he’s running late to class? He’s doing everything you want at your beck and call. Breathe? He’s on one knee.

➵ And that fact that your so small?

➵ He is smitten.

➵ You’re so small and he’s so big and your little hand fits so well in his???

➵ Honestly, you’re kind of enigma to him. Like you trust him so much but he’s so tall and you just- like??? Him??? For who he his??? G O D S E N D.

➵ He loves picking you up and holding you to his chest after practices, even just walking you home while your hanging off of him, his arms supporting you by your butt.

➵ He loves doing it anyway, in fact. Like just holding you on his lap while he sits on the bench waiting to sub back in. When he does stand up he takes you with him, scenting you momentarily before setting you back onto the bench, wrapping his jacket around you and giving you a sweet kiss before going on court.

➵ Yes, he is waving at you until he’s on court and in position. Yes, he is babbling about how cute his omega is to the other team.

➵ “Your lucky your in the presence of my omega with how pathetic of a player you are.”

➵ You can scold him, yeah, but nothing’s gonna change how high of a pedestal he’s put you on.

➵ Literally, nothing else compares to you.

➵ He doesn’t mind having you at practices because he’s literally called the guess monster.

➵ Nothing gets close to you. He’s already blocking stray balls or harsh spikes.

➵ He’s also pulling you away under the pretense that he ‘can’t receive every ball’ when you know that bullshit because he’s literally on the biggest powerhouse school that has ever volleyballed

➵ But you don’t mind because alpha cuddles, right????

➵ The only person Satori trusts you with for extended periods of time is Ushijima.

➵ It is quite amusing the looks you get. The two super tall, big boy alphas with this tiny omega, following the omega around like dogs on a leash.

➵ Everyone just watches you drag around these alphas that could crush you between their thighs.

➵ It absolutely hilarious to you and Satori.

➵ Tendo is not really one to want you wearing his jersey, he more less just wants you in whatever you want

➵ But if that is his jersey, or his jacket, or a sweatshirt of his, he’s not complaining. Never will. As long as his omega is happy.

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bokunosimpfiction · 3 years

Text

Demon!Dimitrescux Reader

Synopsis: Lady Dimitrescu reveals herself as a demon that has made it her personal mission to guard you after what you believe is the case of worst/best timing of your entire life. No trigger warnings. 1.6k words.

A/N: This took me less than two hours to write/publish this. I needed this out of my system ASAP

The black Toyota Corolla had to look strangely familiar your first pass down the street. It reminded you of your boyfriend’s car, and you swore that the digits of the license plate must have been one or two off his, and the generic pine tree air freshener must have been a different color. Not to mention the woman in the backseat with a cocktail dress on.

You chose not to think about it as you walked into the 7-11 in nothing but your pajamas and the pair of crocs you haven’t worn since being on the college swim team. It wasn’t hard to decide what to grab off the shelves. A bag of chips store brand sour patch kids and gummy worms, a two-liter of Pepsi, and a bottle of wine too big for one person. The cashier looked just as tired as you did, and you understood what it was like, barely, time is a social construct that distanced you deeply from the night shifts you pulled at this same store while in college. Nine to five shifts (Dolly Parton shifts, your coworker would call them with a smile) were only better because you could sit down and have a stable sleep schedule. It was the same grueling work, and in your case, you had to deal with the same shitty people that complained about things you can’t control.

His droning voice pulled you out of your train of thoughts. “The total is forty-eight fifty-seven.” He was either crying in the backroom while you were picking out your chips or hit a massive dab, you weren’t sure, but his red eyes made either option feasible. You didn’t comment on it, only handing him two twenties and a ten and taking the change back before walking out the door. You didn’t say anything to him, and vice versa, which you appreciated because you didn’t have the energy to deal with a chatty Kathy right now. And as you pull yourself down the street, your bag of crap from 7-11 in your hand, you pass that same deja-vu-mobile and look at the stickers on the back.

The same I love my dog and proud cat-dad stickers in the exact same place, the dent on the right side of the bumper, and the license plate that was in fact, one hundred percent his. Which begs the question, who was the girl in the cocktail dress, and what was she doing in the backseat? The question didn’t matter for long because the car promptly burst into flames. Oh well. Wait.

The.

Car.

Is.

On.

Fire.

It’s your boyfriend’s car.

Your

Boyfriends.

Car.

Is.

On.

Fire.

You wipe out your phone to call the fire department when you see the girl in the same cocktail dress crawl out of the car, dress pulled up to her waist, barefoot and mascara streaming down her face. She’s violently beating his clutch against the ground, desperate to put out the flames while your boyfriend slams the door open on the other side and throws himself out full force onto the asphalt of the busy street. He looks up and sees the anger in your eyes.

“Hey, babe.”

“I-I-can-” he stutters violently. His face was red in anger and blood dripping from his nose due to the face-first collision with the freshly paved street.

“We’re over.”

You do him the favor of calling the fire department for his car and walk off as soon as you hear the sirens of the firetruck. You didn’t have anything to do with it. No need to watch the fallout when you had nothing to do with the disaster. Besides, your soda’s getting cold, you wanted to drink that before it got Luke-warm. You ended up dropping off the crap and walking to the 24-7 grocery store a little farther in the other direction to get ice cream. Standing in the frozen aisle, in nothing but your pajamas, bright red crocs, and moist eyes, you try and decide between the weird, nuanced flavors that all taste like vanilla anyhow.

You look up towards the top shelf when you notice the woman leaning over you. She’s deathly pale, skin as pale as paper and lipstick so red it glowed compared to everything else. Her huge hat would make a shadow on her face if it weren’t propped right above her hairline.

“So, did you enjoy the show sweet-heart,” she whispers in your ear. You feel her breath on your neck and her gaze freezes your heart. “You didn’t think that his car catching on fire was a happy accident now did you?”

You turn around, only not to see her behind you, but on the fogged-up glass doors on the other side of the aisle. “Did you really think that I’d be standing right behind you?” Her question is almost taunting.

“Who are you?”

She breathes into her elegant pipe only to blow out to re-fog the glass before staring dead into your eyes and saying the words that changed your life forever. “I’m your guardian demon.”

You honestly thought you were losing your mind, seeing this woman in the glass, telling you she was a demon who set your ex’s car on fire. (It felt odd to call him that, you had been dating him for three years). Her elegant leg steps through the glass, her dress riding up to just below her knee before it hit the ground and the rest of her flowed into our realm as smoothly as her dress swayed when she walked over to you.

She was almost twice your height, and the view from where she stood in front of you made her feel even more so tall. “So mortal, what do you have to say, knowing that you have a five-hundred-year-old all-powerful demon protecting you?”

“What happened to my guardian angel?”

She scoffs. “You never had one. Most people nowadays have guardian angels, in fact, I’ve only heard of one other mortal who hasn’t had one that’s alive right now.”

“What do you mean?” You can’t help but ask. There’s an entire world of things you didn’t understand. Angels. Demons. Hell, even bigfoot could be real for all you know.

“Well, darling, there is a very simple answer to that question: there are only so many angels for so many mortals, and so sometimes a few slip through the cracks of the system, and that’s where we step in.” She moves around to the refrigerator next to you and inspects the sorbets. “Despite what the church tells you, us demons love humans. They’re a claim to social status. You bring a human home, and you’re viewed as wealthy, famous even.”

“So that’s what you get out of taking a person’s soul in a deal.”

She turns to you. “When I what now?”

“Ya’ know,” you say, “a person makes a deal with a demon in exchange for money or fame, and when they die their soul belongs to the demon and they’re doomed to eternal hell yada-yada-yada.”

“Is that what they’re teaching you, now.”

“At least that’s what my mother says. I didn’t really believe in any of this stuff till you stepped out of the door and said you set my ex’s car on fire.”

“I would have done it sooner, but you looked so happy with him, it was difficult to pull that away from you,” she sighs before standing up to her full height, “that woman he was with was going to give you HPV and I’d prefer the human I fought tooth and nail over to not get an STD. I would never have let that stupid-man-thing touch you had I known he would cheat on you with a mortal so… infected.” What an interesting word to decide to land on.

She turns and waltzes back across the aisle with a grace that has long been lost to time. “And besides, you’re better off without him, with him off your mind you’ll be able to take that new project on at work and get that raise you’ve been needing so badly.”

You’re still trying to process this. “You mentioned that you only heard of one other mortal with a demon guardian. Who is he?”

“His name doesn’t matter, all I really care about is that damn man-child, Heisenberg, is watching him, which means he won’t be alive much longer.”

“Do you kill us?”

She puts her hand to her chest and looks genuinely offended before her features soften when she realizes you had never met a demon in your entire life not to mention even believing in them. “We would never. Our humans are like our children, and while we may not be able to subtle pull strings to protect those that we watch over, we do have our more… direct ways of protecting them.”

“Like setting his car on fire.”

“I’ve done worse things to keep you safe.”

Your face pales, but your curiosity brightens your eyes. “Like what?”

“Your so demand, child, but remember when lightning struck the tree in your backyard, and it fell and landed on your neighbor fifteen or so years ago?”

You can’t formulate words.

“Or how your car broke down on the side of the road so you couldn’t reach the hotel you booked?”

“You did that!”

“They were going to steal your luggage!” She scoffs before taking a long drag from her pipe. “Anymore, questions?”

“Is Jesus real?”

“I wasn’t there for that, and if he was, he hasn’t left his fluffy little sky bed since being nailed to that goddamn cross.”

“One more.”

“It better not be stupid, darling.”

“What ice cream should I get?”

Her soft smile returns. “Get the java-chip, but the one right behind the front one, there’s a little extra than usual in that container.”

#lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu #dimitrescu x reader #demon dimitrescu #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil x reader

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chrisevansluv · 3 years

Note

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

The 30-year-old Bud Light-chugging, Beantown-bred star of The Avengers is widely perceived as the ultimate guy's guy. But beneath the bro persona lies a serious student of Buddhism, an unrepentant song-and-dance man, and a guy who talks to his mom about sex. And farts.

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

We're at Evans' apartment, an expansive but not overly tricked-out bachelor-pad-ish loft in a semi-industrial nowheresville part of Boston, hard by Chinatown, near an area sometimes called the Combat Zone. Evans has a fuzzy, floppy, slept-in-his-clothes aspect that'd be nearly unrecognizable if you knew him only by the upright, spit-polished bearing of the onscreen hero. His dog, East, a sweet and slobbery American bulldog, is spread out on a couch in front of the TV. The shelves of his fridge are neatly stacked with much of the world's supply of Bud Light in cans and little else.

On the counter sit a few buckets of muscle-making whey-protein powder that belong to Evans' roommate, Zach Jarvis, an old pal who sometimes tags along on set as a paid "assistant" and a personal trainer who bulked Evans up for his role as the super-ripped patriot in last summer's blockbuster Captain America: The First Avenger. A giant clock on the exposed-brick wall says it's early evening, but Evans operates on his own sense of time. Between gigs, his schedule's all his, which usually translates into long stretches of alone time during the day and longer social nights for the 30-year-old.

"I could just make this . . . disappear," says Josh Peck, another old pal and occasional on-set assistant, in a deadpan mumble, poking at the voice recorder I'd left on the table while I was in the bathroom.

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

But not saying things isn't in the Evans DNA. They're an infectiously gregarious clan. Irish-Italians, proud Bostoners, close-knit, and innately theatrical. "We all act, we sing," Evans says. "It was like the fucking von Trapps." Mom was a dancer and now runs a children's theater. First-born Carly directed the family puppet shows and studied theater at NYU. Younger brother Scott has parts on One Life to Live and Law & Order under his belt and lives in Los Angeles full-time—something Evans stopped doing several years back. Rounding out the circle are baby sister Shanna and a pair of "strays" the family brought into their Sudbury, Massachusetts, home: Josh, who went from mowing the lawn to moving in when his folks relocated during his senior year in high school; and Demery, who was Evans' roommate until recently.

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Growing up, they had a special floor put in the basement where all the kids practiced tap-dancing. The party-ready rec room also had a Ping-Pong table and a separate entrance. This was the house kids in the neighborhood wanted to hang at, and this was the kind of family you wanted to be adopted by. Spend an afternoon listening to them dish old dirt and talk over each other and it's easy to see why. Now they're worried they've said too much, laid bare the tender soul of the actor behind the star-spangled superhero outfit, so there's talk of offing the interviewer. I can hear all this from the bathroom, which, of course, is the point of a good stage whisper.

To be sure, no one's said too much, and the more you're brought into the embrace of this boisterous, funny, shit-slinging, demonstrably loving extended family, the more likable and enviable the whole dynamic is.

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

We're operating under a no-names rule, so I'm not asking if it's Jessica Biel who made this memorable first impression. She and Evans were serious for a couple of years. But I don't want to picture lovely Jessica Biel getting sick at Auntie Pam's or in the car or, really, anywhere.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

"That dog is the love of his life," Mrs. Evans says. "Which tells me he'll be an unbelievable parent, but I don't want him to get married right now." She turns to Chris. "The way you are, I just don't think you're ready."

Some other things I learn about Evans from his mom: He hates going to the gym; he was so wound-up as a kid she'd let him stand during dinner, his legs shaking like caged greyhounds; he suffered weekly "Sunday-night meltdowns" over schoolwork and the angst of the sensitive middle-schooler; after she and his father split and he was making money from acting, he bought her the Sudbury family homestead rather than let her leave it.

Eventually his mom and Josh depart, and Evans and I go to work depleting his stash of Bud Light. It feels like we drink Bud Light and talk for days, because we basically do. I arrived early Friday evening; it's Saturday night now and it'll be sunup Sunday before I sleeplessly make my way to catch a train back to New York City. Somewhere in between we slip free of the gravitational pull of the bachelor pad and there's bottle service at a club and a long walk with entourage in tow back to Evans' apartment, where there is some earnest-yet-surreal group singing, piano playing, and chitchat. Evans is fun to talk to, partly because he's an open, self-mocking guy with an explosive laugh and no apparent need to sleep, and partly because when you cut just below the surface, it's clear he's not quite the dude's dude he sometimes plays onscreen and in TV appearances.

From a distance, Chris Evans the movie star seems a predictable, nearly inevitable piece of successful Hollywood packaging come to market. There's his major-release debut as the dorkily unaware jock Jake in the guilty pleasure Not Another Teen Movie (in one memorable scene, Evans has whipped cream on his chest and a banana up his ass). The female-friendly hunk appeal—his character in The Nanny Diaries is named simply Harvard Hottie—is balanced by a kind of casual-Friday, I'm-from-Boston regular-dudeness. Following the siren song of comic-book cash, he was the Human Torch in two Fantastic Four films. As with scrawny Steve Rogers, the Captain America suit beefed up his stature as a formidable screen presence, a bankable leading man, all of which leads us to The Avengers, this season's megabudget, megawatt ensemble in which he stars alongside Scarlett Johansson, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr., and Chris Hemsworth.

It all feels inevitable—and yet it nearly didn't happen. Evans repeatedly turned down the Captain America role, fearing he'd be locked into what was originally a nine-picture deal. He was shooting Puncture, about a drug-addicted lawyer, at the time. Most actors doing small-budget legal dramas would jump at the chance to play the lead in a Marvel franchise, but Evans saw a decade of his life flash before his eyes.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

By "the woods," he doesn't mean a quiet life away from the spotlight, some general metaphorical life escape route. He means the actual woods. "For a long time all I wanted for Christmas were books about outdoor survival," he says. "I was convinced that I was going to move to the woods. I camped a lot, I took classes. At 18, I told myself if I don't live in the woods by the time I'm 25, I have failed."

Evans has described his hesitation at signing on for Captain America. Usually he talks about the time commitment, the loss of what remained of his relative anonymity. On the junkets for the movie, he was open about needing therapy after the studio reduced the deal to six movies and he took the leap. What he doesn't usually mention is that he was racked with anxiety before the job came up.

"I get very nervous," Evans explains. "I shit the bed if I have to present something on stage or if I'm doing press. Because it's just you." He's been known to walk out of press conferences, to freeze up and go silent during the kind of relaxed-yet-high-stakes meetings an actor of his stature is expected to attend: "Do you know how badly I audition? Fifty percent of the time I have to walk out of the room. I'm naturally very pale, so I turn red and sweat. And I have to literally walk out. Sometimes mid-audition. You start having these conversations in your brain. 'Chris, don't do this. Chris, take it easy. You're just sitting in a room with a person saying some words, this isn't life. And you're letting this affect you? Shame on you.'"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

Okay, there was one on-set panic attack—while Evans was shooting Puncture. "We were getting ready to do a court scene in front of a bunch of people, and I don't know what happened," he says. "It's just your brain playing games with you. 'Hey, you know how we sometimes freak out? What if we did it right now?'"

One of the people who advised Evans to take the Captain America role was his eventual Avengers costar Robert Downey Jr. "I'd seen him around," Downey says. "We share an agent. I like to spend a lot of my free time talking to my agent about his other clients—I just had a feeling about him."

What he told Evans was: This puppy is going to be big, and when it is you're going to get to make the movies you want to make. "In the marathon obstacle course of a career," Downey says, "it's just good to have all the stats on paper for why you're not only a team player but also why it makes sense to support you in the projects you want to do—because you've made so much damned money for the studio."

There's also the fact that Evans had a chance to sign on for something likely to be a kind of watershed moment in the comic-book fascination of our time. "I do think The Avengers is the crescendo of this superhero phase in entertainment—except of course for Iron Man 3," Downey says. "It'll take a lot of innovation to keep it alive after this."

Captain America is the only person left who was truly close to Howard Stark, father of Tony Stark (a.k.a. Iron Man), which meant that Evans' and Downey's story lines are closely linked, and in the course of doing a lot of scenes together, they got to be pals. Downey diagnoses his friend with what he terms "low-grade red-carpet anxiety disorder."

"He just hates the game-show aspect of doing PR," Downey says. "Obviously there's pressure for anyone in this transition he's in. But he will easily triple that pressure to make sure he's not being lazy. That's why I respect the guy. I wouldn't necessarily want to be in his skin. But his motives are pure. He just needs to drink some red-carpet chamomile."

"The majority of the world is empty space," Chris Evans says, watching me as if my brain might explode on hearing this news—or like he might have to fight me if I try to contradict him. We're back at his apartment after a cigarette run through the Combat Zone.

"Empty space!" he says again, slapping the table and sort of yelling. Then, in a slow, breathy whisper, he repeats: "Empty space, empty space. All that we see in the world, the life, the animals, plants, people, it's all empty space. That's amazing!" He slaps the table again. "You want another beer? Gotta be Bud Light. Get dirty—you're in Boston. Okay, organize your thoughts. I gotta take a piss . . ."

My thoughts are this: That this guy who is hugging his dog and talking to me about space and mortality and the trouble with Boston girls who believe crazy gossip about him—this is not the guy I expected to meet. I figured he'd be a meatball. Though, truthfully, I'd never called anyone a meatball until Evans turned me on to the put-down. As in: "My sister Shanna dates meatballs." And, more to the point: "When I do interviews, I'd rather just be the beer-drinking dude from Boston and not get into the complex shit, because I don't want every meatball saying, 'So hey, whaddyathink about Buddhism?'"

At 17, Evans came across a copy of Hermann Hesse's Siddhartha and began his spiritual questing. It's a path of study and struggle that, he says, defines his true purpose in life. "I love acting. It's my playground, it lets me explore. But my happiness in this world, my level of peace, is never going to be dictated by acting," he says. "My goal in life is to detach from the egoic mind. Do you know anything about Eastern philosophy?"

I sip some Bud Light and shake my head sheepishly. "They talk about the egoic mind, the part of you that's self-aware, the watcher, the person you think is driving this machine," he says. "And that separation from self and mind is the root of suffering. There are ways of retraining the way you think. This isn't really supported in Western society, which is focused on 'Go get it, earn it, win it, marry it.'"

Scarlett Johansson says that one of the things she appreciates about Evans is how he steers clear of industry chat when they see each other. "Basically every actor," she says, "including myself, when we finish a job we're like, 'Well, that's it for me. Had a good run. Put me out to pasture.' But Chris doesn't strike me as someone who frets about the next job." The two met on the set of The Perfect Score when they were teenagers and have stayed close; The Avengers is their third movie together. "He has this obviously masculine presence—a dude's dude—and we're used to seeing him play heroic characters," Johansson says, "but he's also surprisingly sensitive. He has close female friends, and you can talk to him about anything. Plus there's that secret song-and-dance, jazz-hands side of Chris. I feel like he grew up with the Partridge Family. He'd be just as happy doing Guys and Dolls as he would Captain America 2."

East needs to do his business, so Evans and I take him up to the roof deck. Evans bought this apartment in 2010 when living in L.A. full-time no longer appealed to him. He came back to stay close to his extended family and the intimate circle of Boston pals he's maintained since high school. The move also seems like a pretty clear keep-it-real hedge against the manic ego-stroking distractions of Hollywood.

"I think my daytime person is different than my nighttime person," Evans says. "With my high-school buddies, we drink beer and talk sports and it's great. The kids in my Buddhism class in L.A., they're wildly intelligent, and I love being around them, but they're not talking about the Celtics. And that's part of me. It's a strange dichotomy. I don't mind being a certain way with some people and having this other piece of me that's just for me."

I asked Downey about Evans' outward regular-Joe persona. "It's complete horseshit," Downey says. "There's an inherent street-smart intelligence there. I don't think he tries to hide it. But he's much more evolved and much more culturally aware than he lets on."

Perhaps the meatball and the meditation can coexist. We argue about our egoic brains and the tao of Boston girls. "I love wet hair and sweatpants," he says in their defense. "I like sneakers and ponytails. I like girls who aren't so la-di-da. L.A. is so la-di-da. I like Boston girls who shit on me. Not literally. Girls who give me a hard time, bust my chops a little."

The chief buster of Evans' chops is, of course, Evans himself. "The problem is, the brain I'm using to dissect this world is a brain formed by it," he says. "We're born into confusion, and we get the blessing of letting go of it." Then he adds: "I think this shit by day. And then night comes and it's like, 'Fuck it, let's drink.'"

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

We talk about his dog and camping with his dog and why he loves being alone more than almost anything except maybe not being alone. "I swear to God, if you saw me when I am by myself in the woods, I'm a lunatic," he says. "I sing, I dance. I do crazy shit."

Evans' unflagging, all-encompassing enthusiasm is impressive, itself a kind of social intelligence. "If you want to have a good conversation with him, don't talk about the fact that he's famous" was the advice I got from Mark Kassen, who codirected Puncture. "He's a blast, a guy who can hang. For quite a long time. Many hours in a row."

I've stopped looking at the clock. We've stopped talking philosophy and moved into more emotional territory. He asks questions about my 9-month-old son, and then Captain America gets teary when I talk about the wonder of his birth. "I weep at everything," he says. "I emote. I love things so much—I just never want to dilute that."

He talks about how close he feels to his family, how open they all are with each other. About everything. All the time. "The first time I had sex," he says, "I raced home and was like, 'Mom, I just had sex! Where's the clit?'"

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

Here is the 2012 Detail Magazine interview with chris evans:

The Avengers' Chris Evans: Just Your Average Beer-Swilling, Babe-Loving Buddhist

By Adam Sachs,

Photographs by Norman Jean Roy

May 2012 Issue

"Should we just kill him and bury his body?" Chris Evans is stage whispering into the impassive blinking light of my digital recorder.

"Chris!" shouts his mother, her tone a familiar-to-anyone-with-a-mother mix of coddling and concern. "Don't say that! What if something happened?"

Evans' mom, Lisa, now speaks directly into the microphone: "Don't listen to them—I'm trying to get them not to say these things!"

"Our house was like a hotel," Evans says. "It was a loony-tunes household. If you got arrested in high school, everyone knew: 'Call Mrs. Evans, she'll bail you out.'"

Sample exchange from today's lunch of baked ziti at a family-style Italian restaurant:

Mom: When he was a kid, he asked me, 'Mom, will I ever think farting isn't funny?'

Chris: You're throwing me under the bus, Ma! Thank you.

Mom: Well, if a dog farts you still find it funny.

Then, back at the apartment, where Mrs. Evans tries to give me good-natured dirt on her son without freaking him out:

Mom: You always tell me when you think a girl is attractive. You'll call me up so excited. Is that okay to say?

Chris: Nothing wrong with that.

Mom: And can I say all the girls you've brought to the house have been very sweet and wonderful? Of course, those are the ones that make it to the house. It's been a long time, hasn't it?

Chris: Looooong time.

Mom: The last one at our house? Was it six years ago?

Chris: No names, Ma!

Mom: But she knocked it out of the park.

Chris: She got drunk and puked at Auntie Pam's house! And she puked on the way home and she puked at our place.

Mom: And that's when I fell in love with her. Because she was real.

East the bulldog ambles over to the table, begging for food.

What he remembers thinking is this: "What if the movie comes out and it's a success and I just reject all of this? What if I want to move to the fucking woods?"

Shades of "Sunday-night meltdowns." Luckily the nerves never follow him to the set. "You do your neuroses beforehand, so when they yell 'Action' you can be present," he says.

And so we do. It's getting late. Again. We should have eaten dinner, but Evans sometimes forgets to eat: "If I could just take a pill to make me full forever, I wouldn't think twice."

Wait, I ask—did she ever tell you?

"Still don't know where it is, man," he says, then breaks into a smile composed of equal parts shit-eating grin and inner peace. "I just don't know. Make some movies, you don't have to know…"

If someone doesn't want to check the link, the anon sent the full interview!

#chris evans #cevans #Details Magazine #2012 #interview

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xenospacebabe · 3 years

Text

Broken Wings pt2.

A/N: Ya’ll thanks so much for the positive reaction to my first drabble! A few of you asked me to continue it so I think I’ll make this a little bit of an ongoing thing. Enjoy! Also, I’m doing this all from my phone, so I can’t do page breaks. Apologies to anyone just scrolling by!

Summary: After breaking one of his wings, Hawks breaks into an animal clinic for some help. Little does he know that the doctor there would occupy his mind this much.

For some reason, this had been the longest week in your career. Your techs noticed that you were a little bit distracted in the moments of downtime between patients. But they knew better than to pry into your personal business, history proved that you had a very solid separation between work and real life. You never mixed business with pleasure and it made you a better doctor, in your opinion. It helped you focus more intently on your patients and their care.

That being said, even the most complicated cases couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back to the winged hero who essentially broke into your clinic for a broken wing. You wondered if he was taking your advice by resting his wings and his body. However given that he was the number 2 hero, you knew that probably wasn’t very likely.

After the last surgery of the day was finished, and the last client was out the door, you and your technicians cleaned up the clinic so they could all go home. First to arrive last to leave, today was no different. But today you showed up early just in case Hawks-...Keigo.. decided to drop by before you opened for a check-up. And when he didn’t, you were frustrated with disappointment you felt. You remained hopeful that he would appear tonight.

By the second hour after closing and no sign of the pro hero, you felt your heart hanging in your stomach. So with a heavy sigh, you started checking hospitalized patients to make sure they had what they needed and turning off lights. Though just as you had given up and opened the side door to leave, you were greeted with a full vision of giant wings.

He was there.

“Keigo!” You yelped out in excitement, the smile on your face illuminated the space between you.

“Hey Doc.” His voice drawled, smirking. He liked how happy you looked to see him. It made his heart flutter in a funny way. “Miss me?”

“Maybe. Come inside, we’ll get you checked out.” You retreated back into the clinic and he brushed past you. The discouragement you felt earlier faded away with every passing second and was replaced with pure joy.

Keigo followed you into exam and leaned onto the counter, sharp eyes trained on you with a bright intensity. You weren’t able to put your finger on how it made you feel when his gaze was headstrong on you. Nervous? Excited?

“So, how are you feeling? Any pain or numbness?” Right to business. He admired that about you. Instead of fawning over him and tripping over your words, you were calm and composed. At least, that’s what you wanted him to think. Inside, you were in chaos.

“Ehh...not really. It’s sore but that’s about it.” The wing in mention shifted slightly. You noticed that the splint you had placed was in really good condition. Save for a few rubbed spots where you assumed he was trying to scratch. That meant he was resting, taking your advice in stride.

“You know, there’s no secret cameras or microphones here. You don’t have to pretend.” He froze in place, his expression stilled with shock. Keigo hadn’t realized he was being that transparent. But honestly, it was easy to see. The bags under his eyes indicated he wasn’t sleeping well. Or at all. You waited for a response. This wasn’t uncommon. Pet parents lied all the time to make it seem like they weren’t making any mistakes when their animal was sick. But honesty helped you help them. And eventually, they would always relent.

“Damn, it’s that obvious huh?”

“Oh yeah. So, spill it.” Your hands slowly reached for the wing to get a feel of the splint. It needed a few adjustments which could be easily done.

“It uh...aches. And it’s really dull and ongoing. But it goes away. I can handle it.” Nodding along to his explanation you fished into a drawer beside him for scissors, another roll of tape, and a few pads of gauze.

“I can write you a script to fill at a pharmacy for some relief. And don’t think of telling me no. Is the pain ever sharp?” He nodded quietly.

“Is that bad?” You gingerly removed the tape and padding from the existing splint, making sure to not pull on his feathers or apply unnecessary pressure to the break.

“No, so long as it doesn’t keep up and you don’t have any fevers or anything like that. If you don’t care, I want to get another xray to see where we’re at as far as healing goes.”

The hero grinned, looking so smug and you didn’t know why. He leaned in close, his nose only a few inches away from yours. From this short distance you could really see how rich the golden color of his eyes were, just like an actual hawk. However, the stare she was getting wasn’t from just any bird. It was from this handsome, charming pro hero who make your insides squirm.

“If you wanted me to take off my shirt all you had to do was ask.” The redness came to your face in a rush and you suddenly felt hot. The sound of his chuckling only made your heart race and palms sweat.

“I-I-...it’s just easier-...we don’t have to-...”

“Relax, I’m kidding~” You sighed as he removed his jacket followed by the top of his hero uniform. His skin was significantly less bruised, you noticed. The cuts and abrasions were healing very well. However, in taking in the state of his wounds, you didn’t realize that you were staring.

Keigo’s physique was so clean and cut that you couldn’t help but wonder how his skin felt beneath your palms. What the heat of his body felt like. Eventually, you became aware of your unwavering stare and cleared your throat to break the awkward silence.

Several moments and a few xrays later...

“Okay, so everything is starting to bond the way it should. See the humerus here?” Your finger pointed to the bone with a jagged fusion starting. He nodded to indicate he understood. “It’s still pretty unstable so will need to remain splinted. But that’s normal for a break like this.”

Shouldering his jacket and slipping his arms into the sleeves, he popped the collar back up into place before sighing.

“Right, still grounded.” The tone of his voice seemed sad but you were understanding of why. For someone with as little freedom as Keigo, denying the one thing that made him feel liberated felt like a punishment.

“I’m sorry, Keigo. But you’re doing great so far. I’m really happy with the progress I’m seeing.”

The process of resplinting his wing was painful, but not as bad as it was the week before. You made sure to layer the gauze carefully so the bones would be cushioned and safe. Keigo admired how gentle your hands were, how soft your palms felt against his sensitive feathers. It took a lot of effort to remain composed around you. But as soon as you were done and your hands left him, he was left with a lingering sense of longing.

The hero followed you out and into your office where you sat down in the old chair that had been there almost as long as you’d been alive. He looked around and noticed all the pictures and belongings that decorated the walls and shelves. Honing in on one photo in the middle of the wall of a little girl holding what appeared to be a newborn foal, he looked back at you.

“Is this you?”

“Hm? Oh. Yeah. That was the first foal I ever helped my dad deliver when he was working with horses.” Keigo looked impressed and moved down the line of frames. Lots of smiling faces and memories.

“You were a cute kid, y’know?” Hands shifted into his pockets and he leaned against a filing cabinet. You scoffed and waved your hand dismissively. “No really. You grew up into a really beautiful woman. Inside and out.”

“Really?” You looked at him in confusion. Your hair was a mess and you were wearing yesterday’s mascara. Surely he was just teasing you like those boys did in elementary school. Always picking on you because you came to school with horses on your tshirts and nose always buried in books about animals.

“Well yeah. I don’t just let anyone put their hands on my wings and have my feathers, you know.”

“About that. Why did-..”

“I can’t explain it, but I just wanted to make sure you were safe, I guess.” You were thankful for the dim lighting of your small office so he wouldn’t see your cheeks blush. You weren’t used to compliments like that and it showed.

“So uh-...Same time next week, Doc?” He could sense your exhaustion and decided not to keep you here longer than needed. But even so, you visibly pouted at the thought of saying goodbye again. Without thinking, you found a sticky note and quickly scribbled something down before handing it to him. “What’s this?”

“J-just for emergencies. It’s my cell number. If you know...if you feel any pain or need anything while the clinic is closed.” As he looked at the numbers you wrote the prescription you mentioned earlier which he then accepted and slipped into his pocket.

“Heh alright. Maybe I’ll shoot you a text if I get lonely.” The panic on your face made him laugh. You really were cute. Why did he have to say it like that?

“Oh my god, just go!” You shrieked, shoving him out the door while he continued to laugh. However before he relented and disappeared, he turned quickly and pressed a kiss to your cheek. You stood still in stunned silence. Your skin tingled where his lips had been, fingers lifting to touch the spot in disbelief.

“See ya later. I’ll text you.” Keigo backed away down and disappeared into the dark alley. Leaving you standing there wondering if you had dreamed what just happened. Your heart raced, the pulse thundering in your ears

Oh no....

#keigo takami #hawks #keigo x reader #hawks x reader #hawks drabble #drabble #writing #part two #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero

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atmostories · 3 years

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Johnny Lawrence x Reader

Matter - Chapter Five Tags: Angst, Gender-Neutral, Alcohol/Drug Abuse, Depression You couldn't go, not yet. The kids had to see that everything was normal. And frankly you couldn't leave them alone with Johnny. It wasn't like he was going to hurt them, but in his state he might say or do something that he's going to regret. Why had he reacted like that? Was something else going on with him? You didn't know, it wasn't something that you would know because you weren't part of his life anymore.

Johnny came back about ten minutes later and pointedly didn't look anywhere near the office as he began the class. Though the kids weren't relaxed at first, it didn't take long for them to concentrate and get into the movements. The rest of the class went on without incident, and Johnny appeared only slightly more agitated than normal.

Something must have happened to him, it was the only feasible explanation. Why else would he grab you like that? Was there even a point trying to ask him what was going on? It had taken him long enough to open up when you were together. If you attempted it now he'd probably dismiss you with contempt.

The kids left notably quicker than they usually did, they didn't hang around for long. You couldn't blame them. Johnny was out in the back somewhere. When Miguel started to grab his bag, that was when you got concerned, he always stayed late. Was Johnny blowing off his training?

Before you could go up to Miguel to see what was going on, he came into the office looking more troubled than you'd ever seen him.

“Are you leaving already?” You asked.

“Sensei can't train me today. He's uh. . .”

“He's what?”

“Not in a good way?” Miguel responded, unsure of exactly how to put it.

“I'll go talk to him, I'll see if he can stay and teach you.”

“It's fine, a bunch of us are going to go hang out anyways.”

“Alright, well have fun.”

Both of you left the office and as you were about to go towards the storage room, Miguel stopped you.

“Sensei's uh. . .really not in a good way.” You nodded slowly in understanding. The door to the room was shut, so you knocked first and called out Johnny's name before going in. Most of the room was filled with shelves of old boxes that must have belonged to whoever owned the building. The remaining space housed all of Johnny's equipment. He was sitting on top of a punching bag faced away from you.

“Johnny?” You stepped closer to him, trying your best to hold the nerves at bay. His head turned in your direction, but he didn't quite look at you.

“Miguel's worried about you. I'm pretty sure all of the kids are.” You wanted to say that you were too but the last time you'd told him that, he had said you didn't need to do that anymore. Crouching down in front of him, you still couldn't make out the expression on his face. His elbows were braced on his thighs, his hands were playing with the black headband that he always wore when he was teaching.

You wanted to reach out and hold him, wrap your arms around his body and comfort him in every way possible. He liked it when you ran your fingers through his hair, he'd hum in approval, bury his face into your skin and clutch onto you even tighter. It felt wrong not to embrace him. Physicality was what Johnny understood best.

“I'm here if you want to-”

“When did it happen?” He cut you off, he gazed at your mouth before meeting your eyes.

“A few days ago.”

“Where?”

“I told you it was an accident.”

“And I'm asking where it happened.” The rage bled into his expression, it was no longer unreadable like before. His fingers were clenched around the headband, he was pulling it taut. “Was it near here? By your apartment? Or at work?”

You didn't answer for a moment as you let out a sigh. Why wasn't he letting this go?

“It doesn't matter.”

“It matters to me.”

“Why?”

“Because you're hurt.”

“I don't understand. It's just a split lip, Johnny. You've given me much worse than this.”

“That was. . .it was never like that.”

“I know. It was an accident, like this was,” you replied, gesturing to your lip. You hoped that he could truly put this into perspective. It probably didn't matter how much sense you made, all that mattered to him was that someone needed to be taken down. He didn't say anything in response. Taking to your feet, you stepped back and inhaled deeply.

He got off the punching bag and stood in front you, immediately closing the space that you had created.

“Why did you lie to me?” He asked, the anger in his tone was now mixed with hurt. “You didn't get hurt from biting your lip, so why did you say you did?”

“I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry.” From the way he was looking at you he must not have been expecting you to own up to the lie and apologise. It was like he had lost some of the wind in his sails. “I just. . .you looked so angry I. . .”

“What? Did you actually think I was going to hurt you?”

“No, not intentionally.”

“Just unintentionally?”

“I mean you grabbed me right in front of those kids, Johnny. Do you think they knew you didn't really mean it?”

“Why can't you just tell me what happened to you?”

“Why were you so angry?” For a long moment, neither of you said anything, neither of you moved. You were at an impasse. He wasn't going to answer your question and you weren't going to answer his. Telling him about Hawk was pointless. Even if Johnny didn't mean to, he might treat Hawk differently to the other students. Johnny wasn't the kind of person to forgive easily.

He held your gaze for a while longer before he turned away. After tucking the headband into his pocket, he lifted up the punching bag that was on the floor and leant it up against the wall.

“You should leave,” he muttered with his back still turned. The distance between you was agonising. You felt an overwhelming sense of grief, realising with unquestionable certainty that you could never recover what you once had with him. He didn't trust you, maybe he never did.

“Okay.”

- - -

You hadn't heard from him for nearly two weeks.

It disappointed you more than you thought it would. He was completely justified, you'd blatantly lied to him, admitting it afterwards didn't make a difference. Not telling him about Hawk was the right thing to do. Why was it always coming down to this? You tried to do the right thing and everything always turned to shit. It never mattered how hard you tried. The fact that you could count the number of lies you'd ever told Johnny on one hand was inconsequential. He never believed you when it mattered, not when you told him it was an accident, not when you promised him that you would always care about him.

When you first got together with him, he had a tendency to rebuff the romantic gestures you'd make and disregard them as friendly jokes. Regardless of the fact that he had always made his feelings known, he couldn't accept yours at face value, not at first. As time went on and as things got more serious, you'd thought he had come to believe you. Perhaps he was just better at hiding it.

One morning you were running late for work after oversleeping. To make things worse, you had a throbbing headache that didn't take kindly to you rushing about. As you walked out to your car, you remembered that there was half a joint in the glove compartment. Maybe that would be enough to-

“Shouldn't you be at work already?” You looked up in surprise and saw Johnny standing by your car, the Firebird was parked right next to it.

“What are you doing here?” You wondered out loud as you approached him, noting that the collar of his jacket wasn't popped. There wasn't any paint peeling off his car, had he got it resprayed?

“Thought I could give you a ride,” he replied, taking his hands out of his pockets and standing up a little straighter. “I did try and call a few times earlier, wasn't sure which apartment you're in.” He'd called you? You hadn't noticed, you'd been too busy trying to get ready. You might have been tired but you noticed how he casually avoided answering your question.

“I'm late for work so uh. . .” you trailed off, unsure whether he came here to talk or something.

“I'll take you. You know I drive faster than you, so come on.” While he walked to the Firebird, you quickly glanced over at your car, knowing that you'd have to leave the joint where it was. Johnny was already turning on the ignition when you got into the passenger side. You winced when the speakers came on, the loud music made your temple twinge. He immediately turned it down as if sensing your discomfort.

After he pulled out onto the street, for a brief moment you were curious why you hadn't bothered to challenge him at all. The headache must have been the main reason why, you couldn't bring yourself to. There was also the fact that he'd driven all the way here.

“You look like shit,” he commented.

“Thanks.”

“Your lip's healed though.”

“Yeah,” you murmured awkwardly, unsure of what else to say. Was he going to bring up what happened? A mile or so later you scrounged up the courage to speak again.

“So you thought you'd give me a ride?” You queried as he stopped at the lights.

“I wanted to apologise about what happened,” he replied, turning to face you. “I shouldn't have grabbed you like that.” His jaw was tight, his lips were pressed together, the guilt was evident on his expression. You nodded in reply, rather surprised that he had apologised to you. He was still looking at you when the lights turned green so you gestured towards them to remind him before people started honking.

The Firebird accelerated forwards. You couldn't think of what to say, your mind was fuzzy even though the headache had eased a little. Johnny didn't say anything else either and focused on his driving. Every couple of minutes, you'd subtly rub your temple and will yourself to string some words together. You only spoke again when he pulled up outside your workplace.

“Thanks for the ride,” you told him, ready to get out of the Firebird. You'd have to tell your boss that you'd had car trouble that morning, at least with your car not being there it added some legitimacy to the story.

“Hold on a sec.” You leaned back slightly when both of his hands reached out to your face.

“Uhh. . .?”

“Just come here.” Sitting back to how you were, he pressed his fingers into both of your temples and began rubbing slow circles into your skin. The pressure of it immediately made you feel better and you had to fight not to close your eyes.

“I should go,” you muttered, realising that this was intimate and you were enjoying this far too much.

“A minute's not going to make a difference,” he skilfully dismissed your weak protest and continued his ministration. You couldn't stop staring at him. You were grateful that he wasn't looking at you directly but concentrating on what he was doing. Johnny had always been good with his hands. If you ever had an ache, he used to take his time massaging you until it was gone. When he finally finished, he lingered for a moment before shifting back into his seat.

“I'll pick you up when you finish,” he promised. You thanked him again and got out of the car feeling much better than you had earlier.

Throughout your shift, you kept fixating on how he had apologised to you, how he must have noticed you rubbing your temple and tried to make you feel better. There was something about being taken care of by Johnny that gave you an innate sense of calm. You kept trying to chase that feeling, repeating the memory over and over, imagining that he did even more, fantasising that he was going to hold you in his arms and take you home.

When you finished work, he was waiting for you outside in the newly-painted Firebird like this was his every day routine. You were anxious getting in the car, wanting things to go well like they had in the morning. He engaged you in conversation, wanting to know whether you felt better, asking how your day was and what you'd been up to at work. It wasn't particularly eventful but he showed continued interest and seemed to want to catch up with how things were going.

“The paint job looks good by the way,” you commented after you'd updated Johnny on everything work related. “I forgot to mention it earlier.”

“Been needed for a while, huh?” You had been saving for months to get the Firebird resprayed for his birthday. All that money was gone now, spent on the deposit for your apartment. It made you feel dejected that you'd never been able to do that for him. “Can you come to the dojo tomorrow? The kids miss you.”

“I'm around. How are they doing?”

“They were upset with me after what happened. Guess they don't like their Sensei being an asshole.”

“I guess not. It shows you've taught them well though, right?”

“Pretty sure that wasn't my influence.”

“If you didn't teach them well, you wouldn't even know they were upset. They would have hidden it from you, especially after what they saw. But they still felt comfortable enough to express themselves and that's no small thing.”

“Yeah. . .maybe.”

“Maybe?” You shot back with a sharp tone.

“Alright, yeah,” he admitted, you felt a little triumphant that he had accepted what you'd told him. You were also glad of the fact that his students weren't scared of him. He'd always been better than his own Sensei. Johnny was good at heart, he just needed to open his eyes and see it for himself.

Somehow he was already pulling up outside your apartment block, the drive back had gone by too quickly. If you asked him to come up, would that be too forward? Too personal? He turned off the ignition and looked at you with a serious expression on his face.

“I saw Robby last week.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“Is he doing okay?”

“He's doing alright, aside from the fact his mom decided to go to Mexico with her new boyfriend.”

“He's by himself?” Johnny nodded dejectedly.

“I asked if he wanted to stay round mine but he'd rather stay put.” He couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice though he tried hard to mask it.

“It's better that he has the option.”

“I guess. I'm convinced that she didn't leave him anything for the rent so I left him some money. I might talk to her landlord, make sure next month's covered too.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” He pressed his lips and nodded again. Whenever it came to Robby, he was always a mess of perpetual doubt and debilitating fear. He was scared that anything he might do would hurt Robby in some way. You hoped that what you'd said to him was going to be enough encouragement.

“He asked about you too,” Johnny mentioned. “He wanted to know whether you were still keeping me in line.” You let out a soft laugh but then the smile faded from your face. Had Johnny told him that you weren't together anymore? He must have noticed your unease because he said that he was going to go and make sure everything was sorted for Robby.

“I'll see you tomorrow then, Johnny.”

“Make sure you get some sleep.”

- - -

You were rather taken back by the warm welcome you received from the kids when you turned up at the dojo the next day. They waved and said their hellos, they seemed to be genuinely pleased to see you. Miguel and Aisha followed you into the office, making sure you were caught up on everything that had happened in your absence. Bert had apparently scored a couple points against Miguel during a practice fight last week and there was a new student who had moved to Reseda a couple weeks ago.

It wasn't long before the kids had to leave to start their stretches. Johnny came in for a quick hello, informing you that he'd spoken to the landlord of Robby's apartment and he made sure that the rent was paid for the next two months.

After he went off to begin the class, you were filled with a sense of calm. Things were comfortable between you and Johnny again, and to hear him really trying to get things right with Robby made you feel proud. You supposed it wasn't right having these kinds of feelings for someone you weren't with anymore. But this was Johnny. . .you wouldn't ever stop having feeling things for him.

The time away from the dojo meant you had a lot to catch up on. It wasn't as bad as you'd initially thought it would be, so you were glad of the progress that was made by the end of class. Aisha came into the office with Miguel trailing behind, who was rather poorly trying to conceal something behind his back. Hawk was standing by the door with his arms crossed.

Aisha explained that a bunch of them had ordered Cobra Kai shirts online. They'd been wearing them at school and they kept getting asked where the cool shirts were from and what the logo meant. Miguel then revealed what he'd been hiding, a black Cobra Kai shirt.

“We figured you should have one too,” Aisha told you with a grin. The sweet gesture took you by surprise, you didn't know what to say. You hesitantly took the shirt from Miguel and held it up to check it out. It looked great, the Cobra Kai logo really popped against the black.

“You're Cobra Kai too after all,” Miguel said. The smile on your face must have reached your eyes, you were moved by his words.

“Sensei told us this was your size but if it doesn't fit, we've got a few spares.” Aisha pointed out. They'd spoken to Johnny about this?

“Thanks, to all of you,” you replied, looking at Aisha and Miguel before glancing over at Hawk. It wasn't clear what he felt about all this, he wasn't giving anything away. “This is uh. . .pretty cool, huh?”

“I think Sensei called them badass.” Miguel corrected you.

“Yeah he would.”

“Hawk!” Johnny called out from the dojo, as if he had sensed you talking about him. “Diaz! Miss Robinson!” The other two followed Hawk in quick succession.

While the rest of the kids left, the three of them stayed to do some additional training. With so much work still to do, you stayed put as well. By the time your concentration started to leg, Johnny had finished the extra session. Hawk was the first to leave with Aisha soon after. You heard her mention that her friend was waiting outside. It seemed like a good time to call it a day.

As you were about to stand up from the chair, Johnny came into the office eyeing the shirt that was on the desk.

“Does it fit?”

“I haven't tried it on yet.”

“Well come on,” he urged, grabbing the shirt and throwing it into your lap. You wheeled the chair back slightly before taking off your own top and putting on the Cobra Kai shirt. The material was soft and comfortable, it wasn't that thin, scratchy stuff that always seemed to itch. You raised your eyebrows at Johnny, waiting for his verdict.

“Nice.”

“Not badass?”

“That too.” He looked over the desk which you'd cleared of paperwork. “You leaving?”

“Yeah, I got a lot done today.”

“I don't know what I'd do without your help.” The smirk wasn't on his face anymore, his lips parted open slightly. There was a severity to his expression which made you still. But the tension faded when he took a step back and went to the door. “I'll call you.”

You followed Johnny out of the office a few moments later and walked past the mats, saying bye to him and Miguel. You were glad that Johnny wasn't skipping the kid's training. When you went through the lot, you almost paused mid-step as you saw Hawk standing by your car. You hadn't taken off the Cobra Kai shirt, Miguel had said you were one of them, that was more than enough ammunition.

Making yourself appear relaxed, you approached Hawk as casually as possible, not wanting to seem confrontational. This time his arms weren't crossed, if anything he looked a little sheepish.

“You here to talk?” You asked, keeping a sizeable distance from him.

“Why did you do it?”

“I'm not sure what you-”

“Why did you lie to Sensei?”

“About what?”

“You told him it was an accident when it wasn't.”

“Wasn't it?”

“I meant to punch you,” he retorted in a defensive tone.

“It looked like you regretted it afterwards.” Hawk opened his mouth about to answer back but you cut him off. “And even if you didn't, you're still a kid. You deserve the benefit of the doubt.” The fight seemed to sink out of his shoulders, his jaw was no longer tight, he wasn't glaring at you anymore.

“Just because you have that shirt doesn't make you Cobra Kai. You have to earn it.”

“Well maybe if I ever do, you can let me know.” He pressed his lips together, notably unhappy about your compromising reply.

“Whatever,” he muttered under his breath before walking off. Getting into your car, you were quite bewildered by how well that seemed to have gone.

- - -

It felt good getting back into the routine of going to the dojo twice a week. Things had settled out between you and Johnny, though they weren't quite what they had been. Before what happened with Hawk, there was a budding and growing friendliness between you. That was gone now. He didn't joke like he did before, he didn't tease you or wink at you as he left the office. It was going to take him time to be comfortable with you again. He held onto his anger like nothing else in this world. You didn't know how long it was going to take him.

When he called you one evening, asking whether he could give you a ride to work the next day, you hoped that this might be the start. You told him what apartment you were in, figuring that it was long overdue that he knew exactly where you lived.

The next morning he knocked on your door after you'd buzzed him up. He was earlier than you'd been expecting so you hadn't quite managed to settle down your nerves. You sucked in a breath before opening up the door for him. Johnny looked good. He was wearing jeans, a long-sleeved black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a grey vest underneath.

“Hey,” he said before you let him inside.

“I won't be long,” you replied as you went to grab your phone and put on your shoes. As you were getting ready, you noticed how he was looking over the apartment. It wasn't exactly a place to be proud of, rather the opposite in fact. He was trying to hide how his expression soured, it probably reminded him of his mother. He used to live around here when he was kid. When you were ready, you headed out and he followed you down the stairwell.

“Someone took a piss down there so watch out for the puddle,” Johnny warned as you neared the last flight of stairs. That must have been one of the neighbours again. Since you'd been living here, you'd been lucky enough to avoid stepping in anything. You were beginning to feel the onset of shame so it was a relief to get in the Firebird and leave the apartment far behind.

“I was thinking about running a practice tournament for the kids,” he mentioned, turning his head in your direction briefly.

“You think they're ready?”

“They need some more time, but I think they're almost there,” Johnny replied. “Would you wanna help officiate?”

“Like score points and stuff?”

“Yeah. I mean I can teach you all the rules and then you can help me organise the tournament. I want it to be as close to the real thing as possible.”

“Are you gonna get me the little flags too?” He laughed softly, the sound of it making your chest warm.

“Don't worry, I'll make sure you have the little flags. Is that a yes then?”

“I guess it is, yeah.”

Johnny gave you an overview of the rules and it wasn't long before he pulled up outside work. You hung around for a few more minutes, not wanting to leave, but eventually he told you to get going so you wouldn't be late again.

Work was tedious and you were itching to get back into the Firebird with him all day long. You kept thinking about how much the dojo had shifted his focus into a better place. There was such a marked difference in Johnny and in the progress that he had made. You could see it in the way he held himself, how much healthier he looked, the care he put into his appearance. You could tell just by looking at his eyes. They were so much brighter now.

Those last few months you were together, it was like he wasting away right in front of you. He was drowning in his pain and the booze and the grief and there was nothing you could do but watch. It terrified you. And the worst part of it was that he didn't even acknowledge what was happening. It was like you'd made up the whole thing just to spite him. You'd never felt so alone in your entire life, regardless of the fact that you slept in the same bed as him and lived in his apartment.

Johnny was waiting outside when you finished work. The unreserved smile that was on his face as you approached the Firebird made your heart ache. It hadn't even been half a day and you had missed him. Getting in the passenger seat, you put the feeling down to all the reminiscing you'd been doing. It was always particularly unpleasant to think about how bad Johnny had gotten.

Rather than turning up the music, he spoke more about his plans for the tournament. Though he had a decent idea about which students would fight each other, he wanted to mix things up and have the kids fight against people they weren't totally familiar with.

When he parked outside your apartment block, you were about to invite him up but he mentioned he had training with Miguel. He asked whether you'd be able to make it to the dojo tomorrow. Without hesitation you agreed, glad that you were seeing him sooner rather than later.

- - -

Over the next couple weeks, Johnny began to focus the classes on the fights which combined all of the various moves they'd been learning. Hawk didn't scowl or eye you with distaste anymore. You could have sworn blind that at some point he actually gave you a slight nod in greeting.

Johnny asked you to meet him at the dojo late one evening, long after class and Miguel's training session. It was just the two of you. He went over the rules for point scoring and agreed to your suggestion of going through some videos on your phone so he could explain it with visuals. Somehow he ended up placing the fold out chair right next to you, his shoulder leaning against yours as he constantly pointed at the screen and explained what the referees were looking for.

At first it had been difficult to concentrate with the sensation of how warm he felt and how his voice lulled you into a state of calmness. He tested you on a few videos, telling you to score the match up yourself. After more than a couple mistakes, you were beginning to think this wasn't such a good idea, but Johnny was patient with you, he took you through it again, showing you where to keep your focus. He seemed happy with your progress and promised to go over it until you were confident.

Later that week you were back in the office filling out some insurance forms. The medkit was standing by in front of you as the kids were doing some sparring to finish up the class. When you heard Johnny call Miguel and Aisha to fight, you turned your attention to the mats. They were Johnny's best students along side Hawk. They bowed to their Sensei before bowing to each other.

“Fight!” Johnny called out. Miguel was the first to move and Aisha immediately blocked each of his oncoming kicks. He shifted out of the way when she tried to knock him off balance. They pulled apart, and circled each other for a few moments before Aisha advanced forward.

Over the next minute it was a flurry of each of them attacking and blocking until Miguel managed to kick her in the jaw. Aisha stumbled backwards, holding her hands to her face. Johnny immediately called it and hurried to check on her. The concern was clear on Miguel's face as he began to apologise.

“Alright class, you did well today. Diaz, stretch them out.”

“Yes, Sensei.” As Johnny guided Aisha to the office by her elbow, the rest of the kids lined up on the mats so Miguel to take them through some stretches and cool down from the workout. After Aisha took a seat, Johnny knelt down in front of her, coaxing her to move her hands away.

“Could you get some ice?” Johnny asked, his eyes flicking over to you. While you got off the chair, Johnny was finally able to take a look at Aisha's jaw. You hoped it wasn't too bad.

When you opened up the refrigerator, your body stilled, blood rushed to your ears. You stared mindlessly at the pack of Coors beer sitting on the shelf. It was Johnny's beer. He had it right here in the dojo. They weren't hidden away, they were right out in the open. This was routine for him. He was drinking in front of the kids.

You could barely process the thought, a wave of dread made your hand brace against the refrigerator. Johnny was still drinking? For some reason you hadn't. . .you hadn't thought about it. Why hadn't you? When was the last time you'd ever thought about him drinking? You suddenly realised that you hadn't since you'd broken up with him. It was like your mind had just. . .blanked it all out.

The sound of Aisha grumbling in pain made you grab the ice bag from the freezer compartment. You slammed the refrigerator door shut and placed the bag in Johnny's waiting hand.

All this time you'd thought he'd been getting better, but he'd been drinking all along, right in front of these kids. You couldn't. . .you couldn't. . .

“I'm pretty sure it's not dislocated,” Johnny told Aisha as he held the ice bag by her chin. “Can you slowly open your jaw for me? Let me know if anything feels weird.”

“It just hurts,” she replied after doing what he said.

“Okay, that's a good sign.”

“I'm so stupid, I should have seen it coming,” she mumbled angrily under her breath.

“It was a good fight.”

“Not good enough,” she shot back.

“Look I know you're angry, but trust me, you have to let it go. Making mistakes is how you become a better fighter. You're still learning, don't forget that.” Aisha remained quiet and it didn't look as if she believed Johnny.

“Diaz has been training longer than you have and you held your own. You did good work today.” She still seemed disappointed, but Johnny was able to get a muted smile out of her when he gently punched her shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Come on, Miss Robinson, just because you're a girl doesn't mean I'm going to sugarcoat anything for you.”

“Thanks, Sensei.”

“Now I'm going to make sure that Diaz doesn't bend any of my students out of shape, alright?” Aisha's smile widened at that. You avoided Johnny's gaze as he left the office. She looked up at you curiously while you stood in front of her without saying a word.

“Do you uh. . .can I. . .do anything?” You forced yourself to ask.

“I'm okay. The ice is helping.”

“Good, that's. . .” Trailing off, you wandered back to the chair, hands gripping onto some paper. Your eyes couldn't focus on the words.

You couldn't. . .fuck, you could barely hold yourself together. You wanted to leave the dojo, you wanted to run as fast as you could, you wanted to get away from here. Memories of Johnny's unconscious body sprawled out on the floor kept filling your mind like an endless torment. The smell of the vomit and the beer, the sound of him choking, the way his body convulsed. Johnny come on wake up, can you hear me, talk to me, please talk to me, come on Johnny just wake up, please Johnny say something, say anything, please I'm begging you, please wake up, Johnny, please, please wake up!

You looked over the office and noticed that Aisha wasn't there. Class was over, quite a few of the kids had already gone. She was chatting to Hawk and was still holding the ice bag on her jaw. Johnny was talking to Miguel as they headed towards the storage room.

The moment he was out of sight, you rushed to your feet and left the dojo, uncertain if you'd ever come back. - - - Hope you enjoyed this installment! Thanks for all your comments, they’ve been so encouraging and I love hearing that you’re enjoying this angsty fuckfest with me x Taglist: @whyhaveyouwritten-mehere @lacontroller1991 @stressedstark @wndrcarol @carissakingofthecastle92 @witchcraftandwit @magicwithaknife@80strashbag @jem-my-greatest-sin @masonsbitch @wholesomehen @chlqefrazer @actuallydrew @jem-my-greatest-sin @masonsbitch @wholesomehen @deadpoolgirl23 @sorryyoureoutofmyleague @princealfie @jackbarakms

#johnny lawrence #johnny lawrence x reader #william zabka #cobra kai #atmo-x #yes hello here is your irregular dose of johnny angst #are you ready to suffer

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dropsofletters · 3 years

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how to lose someone in seven steps? | yangyang

— summary: yangyang lives his life going from party to party, but when one grand event suddenly threatens to make him lose all his money, she ponders if she should break his heart in pieces or not. instead, she teaches him how to live a normal life.

— title: how to lose someone in seven steps? — pairing: liu yangyang x reader — genre: rich kid!au ; magnate!au ; singer!au ; bet!au ; strangers to friends to lovers!au ; love experiment!au — type: fluff ; angst ; romance ; humor ; drama — word count: 11,304 — playlist: criminal – taemin ; dway! – jackson wang ; 7 rings – ariana grande ; lifted – cl ; leonidas – yangyang ; +5 stars+ - cl — note: you have to read the prologue before reading this route.

Bottles stacked on top of one another, organized, some from the eighties, other from the latest few years. Shelves that clad themselves in pristine class, though their surroundings are dangerous for such expensiveness. There, with a dress that fits her body a little bit too tightly, she truly wonders what goes on through rich people’s heads. Money, obviously—how to spend it, how to waste it, and how to win it again, but whoever owns this mansion doesn’t think about the fact that any of the drunkards around the party could eventually knock themselves over with this shelf filled with alcohol—from wine to champagne—and possibly die in the process from a shard of glass going through their heads, or that someone could steal from him. Bottles lonely, void of anything to protect them, just a slide of the glass enough to grasp the material.

Though, she knows what she is doing. Tugging at the gold dress that Liying insisted on buying for her, she hopes that no one sees her. Not that she should be thinking when Hao specifically brought her to this party to socialize with possible record label owners or other artists that would want to collaborate with her—but after a while of speaking about nothing at all and sipping on the same glass of champagne, she feels drained out of energy. The host of the party word of mouth and yet, nowhere to be seen.

Cutting the chase, she turns around to see if she can find Hao somewhere. The living room is packed, people gathered dancing, some sprawling themselves on the couches, smoking and drinking. Nearby, a man tugs a woman to his lap, her cigarette falling on the floor to remain unlit as another person joins them. It’s only a matter of second before she feels her blood boiling in embarrassment, crossing one arm across her chest to hold her elbow upright with her drink when she sees the kiss shared by three. Parties like these do get a bit crazy.

The mansion is pretty, though, and while Hao is out—somewhere—trying to get her a record deal, she basks in the material beings around her. Golden walls, red decorations, and floors that were pristine when she had gotten there earlier but are now dusted in alcohol and ashes. She gives one step forward, then two, and she stops herself, not knowing exactly where to go. She has already talked to some people, but her social batteries are running out.

Getting her phone out of her purse, she puts her lips together until they decolorate the slightest under the pressure, typing a message for Hao. Not that she couldn’t call him, but screaming over the music as Post Malone plays for the umpteenth time just doesn’t sound like the best of ideas.

To: Hao-Hao.

Where you at?

I want to go home.

The response comes sooner than expected, her phone vibrating in between her fingers.

From: Hao-Hao.

I’m talking to the son of a record label’s CEO.

You can’t go now.

He’s a bit drunk but I’m taking care of him so he can hear you sing once he’s more sober.

To: Hao-Hao.

I’ll step out for a few minutes, then.

Call me when you need me. I won’t leave.

The sigh that rips from her throat only lets go when her phone plops back in place in the almost-empty purse, her heels clicking against the black tiles of the mansion. With each swing of her hips, energy drains itself out of her body. There is nothing that she would have wished for more than just lay herself flat on her bed, start a video-chat with her friends and just get lost in the conversation. At first, she thought it would be easier, speech slurred that would help her sound more appealing to those who are drunker than her, but no one pays attention to possible talents in parties like these.

The coldness of the night bites at her arms, as well as some mosquitoes, scattering across her ankles and making her hiss as she continues scratching herself. A fountain stands right at the front, surrounded by trees and a few sports cars. One of those cars, however, is Hao’s old, dark thing that seemed to be much less cool in comparison.

A swat of her hand against her skin has her hissing.

Fuck mosquitoes.

Fuck this party.

Fuck the broken dream that she keeps chasing with the hope of her story turning out to be more interesting than it really is.

From the far distance, just as she leans back against one of the many cars there, an engine starts to roar to life—getting closer and closer, perhaps wanting to get to the party faster, catching the attention of the entire block, not that they would care. With the golden fabric of her dress barely covering her from the coldness of the white convertible, she takes her phone out again to talk in the group-chat, but as her fingers work against the screen, the car gets closer. The wheels become music at that moment, the culprit making its appearance as the car enters the mansion, barely giving the security guards at the entrance any time to open the gates.

A gorgeous night blue makes the car outstanding, blend into the night but make it more noticeable in between the expensive cherry reds and the bone whites. Instead, the driver parks nearer to the mansion, closer to one of the street lamps by the entrance, draping its white glow onto the concrete that leads to the main door. Whoever the owner of the car is manages to park the car backwards, roaring the engine a few more times when he’s put in place before moving back a bit more…

And a bit more…

Even more…

Then, comes the crash. Miniscule, but enough to create a dent on the night-sky car.

The coolness only lasted for a second.

She has to look away, because she may not be an avid driver…but even she knows that getting too close to a street light wasn’t a good idea. Instead, she brings her phone up her face to use it as an excuse, eyes inspecting the car’s door when it opens, watching a set of slim legs peak out before the entirety of the owner makes his presence known.

Blown portions of his brown hair end up in the slits between his fingers, gripping at the strands for dear life as he stares at the dent on his car. Parted, obscured and defined lips call out for her attention, the ‘o’ in them almost funny had it not been for his beauty. His brown eyes widen in panic, knees creaking under his weight when he kneels beside his car and actually, for real, plants a kiss on the surface before connecting his forehead with it. If she is not mistaken, the sigh that rips from those precious lips sounds like an apology.

It’s none of her business, she tells herself, but when she crosses one leg over the other, she realizes just how freezing the night is, her thighs in full display while the handsome idiot with the car looks as toasty as ever. A blue hoodie on top of his body, black ripped jeans making his legs look like they last for miles and even some more. His shoes, however, are one of the latest releases of a popular brand that she feels like she heard one of her friends speaking about. Maybe Elena.

Maybe, he’ll have enough of a heart to give her something to cover herself up with—that’s the excuse she uses when she pulls her weight away from the white convertible that held her up to go over to him. The clicking of her heels does nothing to call out for his attention, forehead still pressed to his car like the main character of a romantic movie asking for the forgiveness of his partner after fucking up.

He did fuck up…his very expensive sports car, for example.

“Hey…” Her voice wavers a bit, eyes trailing down to the kneeling man. At this point, his thighs may be burning over the forced squat he is doing. “Are you crying right now?”

That seems to make him pull away from his car, pushing his face off the car before widening his eyes in the process. Not a single glistening tear clads his irises, so he seems to be fine. “Wh—? What? No.” He scoffs in the process, standing up and licking his lips in the process. “I’m just…some douche…one of my friends, like, he’s a total douche, he—ah, he crashed my car against the…the thing—”

“I saw you crash your own car.”

The puppeteer lets go of the marionette in him, shoulders dropping, legs becoming flimsy as his faux smile turns into somewhat of a pout, arms crossed over his chest to indicate just how attacked he feels right now. The grin from her is inevitable. “Then, why do you ask?” He conquers, though, one look at her has him giving a double-take, and sure, she looks good…but the squint of his eyes and the frown on his face is for something else. “You look oddly familiar. Have I, like, seen you before?”

“Have you?” Now that she thinks about it, the defined lines of his lips somewhat click on her. From where? She doesn’t know. “Now that you say it, I feel like I have seen you…”

Wiping his—probably—sweaty hands on his jeans, he claps his hands together. “Like, for real, I have seen you.”

“Maybe, the crash did something to your head, I don’t know.”

The guy in question can only hiss in the process. “That’s your nicest try for a joke?”

“That’s your nicest way of parking?” She asks, one thumb going over to his still very much dented car before sighing. “What’s your name? Because I really feel like I know you.”

Though, she does have a plan—leaving this poor man crying about his convertible isn’t something she is planning to do tonight. At most, she will call her brother-in-law and see if he knows someone who can fix cars, just if he wants the number. Not like he needs it with the amount of money he clearly has. “Liu Yangyang.” He replies, his hands placed on his hips when he looks at his car. “And that’s Emilia, my baby.”

“…You crashed your baby against a light—”

“My baby betrayed me and went a little too far, mind you.” Though, now that she has laughed and her phone is, once again, on her hand, she can think about that name. Liu Yangyang, Liu Yangyang.

Fuck.

Liu Yangyang!

“Oh my God, you’re Liying’s ex!” That’s not the kind of sentence that must have left her lips at that moment, but it’s what comes out of her. It takes a few seconds for Yangyang to process what she just said, pursing his lips in the process before squinting at her once again.

“And you’re part of her friends’ group. The little Girls’ Generation wannabe group.” Yangyang replies, though his voice begs to do no harm, she can’t help but feel a little bit hurt by his words.

“We are not a Girls’ Generation wannabe group.” She corrects, not realizing just how punctuated her words are coming out until Yangyang chuckles at her.

“You just did a sick dance move with your neck, bro.” The young man adds, making sure to move his head from side to side, perhaps more stylishly than her. “Are you sure you’re not a dancer?”

“I was going to call someone to help you out, but I’m not going to anymore.” She says, though Yangyang shrugs his shoulders.

“Dad will pay for it.” He adds, looking around for a few seconds. “And if you’re the only person who saw it, I just need to keep you quiet about it.”

“Why? Stuff like this happens at parties all the time—”

“Not when you’re the host and you’re not the slightest bit drunk, no.” This mansion…this goddamned piece of art that looks like it could be a castle, with how tall the walls are and how gorgeously decorated it is, belongs to no other than Liying’s ex?

“T—This is your house?” She asks, fingers widely pointing at the entrance before Yangyang nods. “What were you even doing outside? You’re the host!”

“You know, like, when it’s someone’s Sweet Sixteen party, they just arrive later than everyone and make a grand appearance and it’s, like, I don’t know, cool or whatever?” With the rapidness of his voice and how excited he seems to be about this situation, she can’t help but be in awe. “I was aiming for that.”

“Were you also aiming to crash your car or did your Dad pay for your license, too?” With the smile that appears on his features, somewhat shameful as he looks to the side, she can’t help but clutch her phone closer to her chest. “You bought your driver’s license!”

Yangyang rushes to place both of his slim hands on her cherry red lips, shushing her in the process, his face mere centimeters away from hers. “What do I have to do to keep you quiet? I need to look cool, still.”

Not that she was planning to ask him for anything, so she pushes his hands away from her mouth. “Ew, dude, I don’t know where your hands have been—”

“That’s not usually how that goes.” Yangyang mumbles, more to himself, before opening the door to his car once again. Bending down, he seems to be looking for something in the front portion of his car. “Listen, I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but I’m not that bad of a guy. I wash my hands.”

“Sure, you do.” She replies, aware of the fact that this is the man Liying had rolled her eyes to a bunch of times. Didn’t she ask her to break his heart like a month ago? Yangyang’s immature, from what she has heard, but the rest of him is a secret. “You don’t have to give me anything. I’ll just stay around this party for a bit longer and then, I’ll call it quits.”

“Aw, why? Is Taeyeon missing?”

“Taeyeon?” At the mention of such a name, she frowns.

Still, he continues to speak from inside his car, putting a few things together that she can’t quite make out from her position. “You know, like, Taeyeon from Girls’ Generation.”

“Huh?”

“I’m joking.” Dragging his voice, he comes out with a bag in between his hands. Typical in its beige and brown color, Louis Vuitton with just one clear glance. What is even more impressive than the purse on itself is how he pushes it towards her hands. “There you go, your gift.”

“…Yangyang, what language are you speaking in? I don’t even—What are you doing?” She asks, taking the purse in between her hands before shaking her head.

“Actually, I speak some. German, English…I took some Spanish classes—”

“Yangyang, I can’t take this purse.”

“It’s not that expensive.” He shrugs, as if this is really not worth more than anything she owns. Even more than her entire apartment compiled together. “Besides, you didn’t make a big deal out of me and Emilia having a moment, so…I’m letting you go with this bag. I brought it with me today, but I think it’ll go better with your outfit…” Though, she doesn’t miss the way his eyes trail down her body before correcting himself, blinking quickly and giving one of his infamous smiles. “Take it.”

“Yangyang, no—”

Unexpected are the steps he gives towards the door, rushed as he runs away from her, looking over his shoulders as he screams: “Too late, I’m already going.” Though, when he opens the door in one swift motion, he doesn’t forget to add something else. “See you later at the party.”

Though, she can’t even walk forwards to search for Yangyang in between the masses of people when she feels her phone buzzing in her purse.

Well, her original purse, not the Louis Vuitton one.

Is it even hers now?

From: Hao-Hao.

Go home…

The guy fell asleep after vomiting on my shoes.

It’s safe to say we’ve done nothing in this party.

Two steps back make her heels waver under the weight of the droplets of champagne on her system. Tugging both purses over her shoulder, she smiles. Yangyang, more than immature, has that youthful person that not a lot of people have.

###

Birthday parties are already not that good to start with. Put one single candle on a cake and start singing a song, that’s the best way to make anyone feel out of place and awkward. They are even worse when she feels two children tugging at her pants, and thank goodness a white belt wraps around the baggy beige pants, because they would have been at her feet had it been for Liying’s daughter’s friends.

Some people just launch themselves at their dreams as if they were a rocket, and Liying is one of them. Last year, when her stress reached her peak and her dating list only got longer with more mistakes, she decided to draw a line over all men in her life and go for her biggest dream all on her own. It wasn’t the clothing line that she had already worked in—and that, somehow, people were always surprised to hear about when seeing how plainly she dressed—, but having a child instead. That’s where the four-year-old child by her mother’s legs came along, adopted a year ago and still very much adoring her small, loving family.

But this is her first birthday party, and Liying had gone over the moon with preparations. Everything pink, in the shade of Peppa Pig, with children songs playing in the background as some of them scream, jump, and one of them even blows bubblegum into the air only to cover his face in the sticky substance. Surprise. The bubblegum is also very pink.

Liying picks her daughter up from the ground then, placing her against her hip as she gets closer to her. “Chengxiao, Mei, let go of her legs. She can’t even walk.” The monotone tone must have worked more than her pathetic plea, widening her eyes in adoration when seeing one of her best friends with her. “Did you buy the candles I told you about? I’m sure we need to give them some sugar before they start going crazy.”

She doesn’t know if she just chuckled or sighed. “Isn’t it too much sugar already?”

“It’s never enough sugar for them.” Liying conquers, placing a kiss on her daughter’s cheek before putting her down again. “Baby, tell all your friends to gather so we can start singing the birthday song!”

“Yes, mama!”

Liying pushes the strands of her dark hair away from her face, putting it up in a bun before asking. “So, candles?”

“I can’t even walk, Liying. They’re in my purse.” She points, well aware that she needs her bed more than ever right now. Not only had Chengxiao thrown a tantrum when she had not sung the Peppa Pig theme song for the umpteenth time, but she also had to take care of the other children. Wipe the bubblegum away from that little dude’s face. Make sure that everyone in well fed. Over everything, she has to pick the music and Lord forbid she picks something that isn’t Baby Shark.

Liying moves over to her pink couch, draping the children’s coats away to reach her purse before frowning deeply. “Your purse, you said?”

“Yes.” Using the coats as a pillow, she lays back on the couch, exhaling deeply as a sweet, tight-lipped smile appears on her face. “God, I’m about to pass out.”

“Don’t pass out on me.” Liying says, rummaging through her purse. “Why do you have so much shit in your purse?”

“The girls put all their stuff inside. Some of them didn’t bring purses.”

“I’m sensing Shishi and Elena in that statement.”

“Shishi can’t wear a purse that doesn’t have Pokémon characters all over it,” She starts. “And Elena is too cool for a purse.”

“Got it.” Liying finishes, pressing her purse to her abdomen to keep looking for her candles before a soft hum leaves her lips. “I found two things.”

“Two?” Her eyes open at that moment, staring at the objects in between Liying’s fingers. One of them is the number four in the form of a candle, and the other is a crumpled piece of paper that seems to beg to be recycled. “What’s that piece of paper?”

“I don’t know, was inside your Louis.” Liying whispers, unfolding the paper as she speaks. “And no matter how much I love that you’re wearing Louis Vuitton, it’s not your thing. You don’t wear anything expensive.”

Cameras flash inside her head at that moment, the aftermath of having a picture taken of her and the flash still bleeds inside her eyelids. Liu Yangyang in the shape of a gift, that’s what that purse means. Given to her a week ago, and still clinging to her side like pure nature.

What? The purse is cute…

“I—This is going to be so funny but,” Time for the truth, she tells herself. “I went to a party last week, right? And I went out to get some air because it was too cramped inside, so a guy crashed his car and—” Liying raises her eyebrows then, never showing quite as much of her expressions as that moment. “And it was so stupid, so I promised not to tell anyone and he gave me a Louis Vuitton.”

“Good guy.” Liying shrugs her shoulders. “Got his name?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice,” Liying says, turning the paper around. “Because he asked you to meet up with him in this place three days ago and you hadn’t even realized that he had put that paper inside your purse.”

Grasping the paper in between her hands, the flutter of a butterfly goes up her sternum and rests on her trachea. The handwriting on the paper feels like him, somewhat rushed, always on the verge of doing something, and with one little smiley face at the end, he does ask to meet up with her at certain place, three days ago, with the time written and all.

“…That’s the funny thing.” Though, her laughter sounds as fake as it possibly can be. “We both felt like we had seen each other and, hah, turns out it’s Liu Yangyang, your ex.”

Had it been anyone else, they would have at least gasped, but heart of steal, soul of stone, mind of ice—or better known as Liying—, simply seemed to find it fitting. “Huh,” She says, looking down at the piece of paper. “A downgrade for you but an upgrade for him. I think he’s asking you out.”

She shakes her head at that. “No way. He’s being friendly.” She says, quirking her eyebrow in the process. “Why? Is it the whole breaking his heart thing going on or—?”

“No.” Liying replies, zipping the bag in the process. “Yangyang is obnoxious and used to love Cheetos way too much for anyone’s liking, but he’s a nice guy.” She rolls her eyes then. “If you can keep up with the whole…Yangyang-ness that comes with it, and you’re really thinking about it, or about him. Who am I to say no?”

Sitting up, she hooks her fingers around the paper, crumpling it up in the process. “…Not like it matters if I’m curious about him. The day just passed.”

“Go there again.” The woman starts moving towards the kitchen, eager to give the children some sweets to see if they will get sleepy in the process. Liying’s intelligence goes above NASA at times. “Yangyang does party a lot, and attend a lot of events, but it’s always in the same places. People go to Yangyang, Yangyang never goes to the people.”

“…Why’s that?”

Liying sighs. “He’s rich, babe.” Pushing the candle into the pink-coated cake, the cream sloshing around a bit in the process, Liying chuckles at her own words. “Everyone follows after you if you’re rich.”

“…I don’t want him to think I’m just looking for money, though.” But, why does she even care about it? She has a Louis Vuitton bag now—

“And you took the Louis in the process of not wanting to seem like an opportunist?”

“I took it because he ran away before I could give it back to him.”

“And you were unable to go after him because…?”

“I was tired.”

Liying puts one hand on her waist, the shirt she is wearing a little bit more see-through with the passage of years, sticking to her like glue. Liying’s emotional side lets her cling onto the most miniscule of things. “Sorry to break it to you, babe, but your mind played games on you and took the purse because you wanted to have a reason to see him again, or something to cling onto until you saw him again. Not to blame…he’s a charming guy. Younger, but that’s the charm.” She sighs in the process of her train of thought. “…If only I liked older guys, I wouldn’t even be here on the first place.”

“I’m not interested in Yangyang.” She replies, clapping her hands together as she calls for the children.

“I could be the greater friend and say you shouldn’t, because he’s a man-child, and he’ll possibly be more of a headache than a good thing but—” Liying joins her then, screaming for the children to gather, the sounds of toys being dropped to the floor and cheers coming from the masses of children making her curse internally. While she’s here, their other friends are by Liying’s room, playing games online— “You are curious about him, and the mom in me is telling me I have to let you live your life so…” Liying taps her fingers against the crumpled piece of paper in between her hands. “Go there on the same day this week, same time. See if he’s there.”

###

A recording studio is not where she imagined herself to be on a Thursday at two in the afternoon, but it’s where Yangyang had invited her to go last week. With its gray walls, harsh lights that make her cringe onto herself in case someone looks a little too close at her face, and the staff rushing from one place to the other, she feels both sad and thankful that she’s not part of this. One, she doesn’t have to be judged by anyone but two, that almost means she’s not known by anyone as an artist.

Much to her surprise, the security guard at the entrance—at least two heads taller than her—had let her in at the mention of her name, but lost as lost can be she is when inside the studio. Asking one of the staff would be much too embarrassing, for Yangyang had invited her there, but he wasn’t exactly expecting her. Besides, if he had invited her, it would look too ridiculous to ask for his whereabouts. A fan, she would look like a fucking fan.

But, Yangyang doesn’t seem like an actor—if he was, and with the amount of popularity he has, he would have had at least three paparazzi on his back when he crashed his car. One step forward and she almost stumbles against one of the light guys, apologizing profusely as she continues going forward without a North. Whatever it is that she is doing other than looking around, is not the closest thing to finding Yangyang.

Much to her surprise, in front of one of the many green screens in that endless studio is Yangyang, seated in what she would compare to a director’s chair, the lights on him only highlighting the aspects of his face that had not been there when she had met him at the party. His lips are rosier, a sheen of highlight on both his cheekbones to make them more prominent—though, the structure of his face sculpted by the Gods was—. A golden bomber jacket rests on his arms, one leg crossed over the other as he speaks into the air with certainty. Confident with his hair pushed to the side and a small smile playing on his lips.

“Honestly, I’m just here to have a good time.” He shrinks into himself the slightest, tucking his hands under his thighs before swinging his legs back and forth. “I don’t care what anyone says,” A quirk of his eyebrow comes after, laughter following his statement. “Why would any of the other guys judge me for partying and buying expensive stuff when they, like, they do the same thing? It’s just…I want to live my twenties before I just completely turn my life upside down.”

The director asks, far too quickly. “How are you going to do that?”

Yangyang thinks for a moment, but he doesn’t deflate, much like he doesn’t give an absolute answer. “…What everyone does, go to Hollywood.” Though, he laughs at himself, shaking his head at the same time that the director asks to cut, a group of stylists rushing to him to fix his hair just at the same time that he stands up.

Statements. A green screen. Extra good makeup.

Questions.

They’re asking him questions about him…

And he’s here each week…

Yangyang is part of a reality show.

What the fuck?

Crossing her arms, she leans back on the wall as she watches the staff gather around him, telling him about places to go to after this, shootings that they need to do, and each voice molds onto itself until they are imperceptible. The farthest he gets from the green screen, the more she comes into view—with far less makeup than him and a red leather jacket that is much too old to compare to his bomber jacket.

Whatever.

Yangyang stops on his tracks when he sees her, stopping his typing on his phone when he smiles widely, like a kid that had just gotten his preferred kiss. “Girls’ Generation!” Confusion bathes the faces of the staff around him, and it takes her a second to curse under her breath when he moves towards her. Next thing she does is tell him her name. “Oh, sorry, I don’t keep up with the newest members.”

The only member he seemed to know was Liying, after all. “But you sure do keep up with something, Kim Kardashian.” She says, jotting her chin towards the chair that has now been taken over by someone else. “I didn’t know you were part of a reality show.”

“My manager asked me to join. Something about publicity…and people investing more in my appearances if I do. Influencer stuff, I guess? Like, I don’t like to call myself an influencer because I can’t, like, even influence my cat but…you know.” Yangyang goes around his answer a few times, earning a chuckle from her at the same time he drops a joke. “And please, call me Kendall. Taller, ass less fat, and I can pride myself on my legs.”

One look at them promises her that he is not lying. Long, slim, definitely looking good in whatever kind of pants he wears. “I’ll have to watch your show later.”

“Please, don’t.” Mortified, Yangyang shakes his head. “It’s all scripted and for drama. I promise, that’s not really how I want you to see me.”

Instead, she licks her lips. “Well, I found a paper in my bag asking me to meet you up here so…” She trails her voice. “How do you want me to see you?”

The challenge must have excited Yangyang, who runs his fingers through his hair and she almost believes she saw one of the staff dying in the process. That, or she’s trying to find other reactions similar to hers, heart thumping against her chest. “Well, I have some unreleased movies in my mansion and I thought we could—”

A woman with glasses propped on her nose, very much over the age of sixty, shakes her head as she nears Yangyang. “You can’t do anything today.” She finishes for him, throwing a look towards her before swallowing thickly. Something tells her that this is his manager, because she doesn’t look like Yangyang at all, and because of her authority.

Each day she is more thankful of having Hao.

“Why?” Yangyang drags his voice in a whine, turning to his manager to talk to her. “I thought I had Thursdays all for myself.”

“You thought correctly, but not today.” The woman turns her tablet to bathe Yangyang’s face on its glow. “Someone contracted you for a photoshoot today and I need you to take your pretty face to your limo so we can get there on time and have your makeup redone.”

Well, fucking shit.

She came all the way here for nothing.

Yangyang glances at her in the matter of seconds, his hands coming forward to grasp hers in their hold. His fingers are cold, mannerisms not as quickened as his voice, with his fingers soft like silk against her skin. She could get used to it. “Sorry.” He mumbles, biting his lip after. “Want to give me your number so we can meet up some other time?”

“Okay.” She says, soon after Yangyang takes his phone out of his pocket, giving it to her after unlocking it.

“Do you need me to call a cab for you?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll walk home—”

“No way.” Yangyang denies, eyes turning to his manager. “Can we wait five minutes and call a cab for her? I can’t leave her alone here.”

“You don’t have to do that—”

“I want to.” He says, taking his phone in between his hands again before pointing to a door on the left. “There are some really good crepes over there, want to eat something as my manager calls a cab for you?”

A dream man doesn’t exist, they just don’t. She knows this, has engraved it in her brain and heart with each disappointment that has met her in the shape of a lover. However, with Yangyang talking over bites of his food, films that she hasn’t even heard about going past his lips with ease, summary after summary all awfully explained, she can’t help but think that she can get used to it.

Get used to the fluttery feeling that follows her when he closes the door to her cab and waves to her until he’s out of sight.

###

To: Group-Chat.

I’m going to Yangyang’s place today.

The meteorite that splays in colors, leaving a black hole in its wake, comes in the shape of messages, both meaning to entice her to go into this damned date…and others simply for the sake of laughter.

From: Liying.

Ask for Alexander Wang’s newest collection.

From: Elena Wang.

He has money?

From: Liying.

Lots.

From: Yifei.

That’s it.

Girls.

We’re collectively asking for something so our babe can ask Yangyang to gift it to her.

And we do that each time they meet.

From: Elena Wang.

A ring.

From: Shishi.

The entire Dragon Ball collection.

From: Liying.

Clothes for children.

Preferably my daughter.

From: Bingbing.

Ladies, we all collectively suck.

We shouldn’t ruin her date like that.

(I say, as I lie through my teeth).

From: Angela.

We’re just joking, babe.

Go on that date!

If it didn’t work with Liying, it may work for you.

To: Group-Chat.

Thanks for making it awkward, Ange.

Important nights deserve bigger measures. An extra look in the mirror. Another movement of her hands to fix her hair and a blow of air that almost leaves her breathless, opening one more button of her shirt before hooking it again. She straightens her back, but with her heart thumping against her ribcage with more intensity at the action, she sighs. What is it about him? This man, whose life doesn’t fit hers at all, manages to make her curious. An itch. Thirst. Whatever this is, it palpitates with curiousness.

The mansion looks different in the daylight, but maybe she was a bit too tipsy when she had been here last. She smiles at the door, because why not practice for a while? Why not wait and ponder if this is another one of her bad decisions? Someone whose sunshine smile radiates on her eyes, blinds her, then takes her to a million trips towards the fields of heartbreak. He’ll know everything of her before she will even know what his favorite color is.

She had grown with only women in her life. No man in sight. Women gave out their empathy while men casted sympathy. Love is such a wicked game that it never gave her a moment to think better, to think about the words that had always been told to her:

Find a man who’d stop himself from kissing you if that meant hearing your voice.

But that never happens, so why is she here? Why does her finger come forward and press on the doorbell? Legs shaking, hands twirling against one another, she stops herself from running away when she hears Yangyang’s voice coming from the microphone at the entrance, telling her to hold up for a second.

She doesn’t need a man.

Then, why does she want one?

Why does she want him?

Diamonds have never been her thing, for the brightest thing she has seen is a smile. Convertibles can’t mean a thing when she can move in a cab and get the company of someone else while she writes some songs on the way home. Yangyang believes in the opposite of the world she has built for herself—the truest her, but that doesn’t seem to cross her head when he’s in front of her, in a white t-shirt and the air of a fucking nightmare.

Because falling for Yangyang is going to be a nightmare, much more when he calls her name as if it’s the melody of his favorite song that he had forgotten about in the twists of life, and when it comes up in the radio, he just knows about it. The lyrics, the tune, he appreciates it, loves it to bits for the three minutes and some seconds that it lasts.

Yangyang is three minutes and some seconds.

Yangyang is a nice feeling, nothing more, nothing less.

“You look pretty.” The glance-over he gives to her body is imperceptible, had it not been for his compliment, she would have never noticed that Yangyang spared one of the rushed seconds of his day by looking at her. “Wanna get inside?”

“It’s not like I came here to stand by the door.” She jokes around, making sure to smile just to avoid any misunderstandings. Yangyang closes the door behind them when she does get inside, one arm coming up to rest on her shoulder as he moves her forward.

“You know, I really thought you were, like, the sweet kind when I met you.”

“I am the sweet kind.” She wishes she could pay more attention to the living room around her, much more spacious when there are not hundreds of people scattered to make a place for themselves in this world of social rules. “You just…” Her words cut off when she looks at him, for his lips tell her—in silence, something she would never connect with Yangyang—that she’ll probably get in trouble with this one. “You don’t make it easy to be sweet to you.”

His lips move with such precision in her line of sight that she almost snaps out of it. Looking into his eyes would be less of a clear sign of her interest, but when he throws himself on top of his couch, legs sprawled like his arms to call out for her attention, she realizes something…

She’s really interested in Liu Yangyang.

“I’m going to earn it, I’m sure.” How in the world Liying called him insecure? She’s not sure. Instead, Yangyang leans his weight forward, taking a big bag of Doritos from the coffee table before opening it in one swift motion. A remote rests on his other hand, leaning back on the couch with the bag placed on his lap and his left arm extended for her to lay on it. “I have some films for us to watch…and I bought different snacks because I wasn’t sure which one you liked the most.”

“We can share.” She says, taking the spot beside him before slowly descending into the pits of Hell, letting her cheek rest on the side of his slim arm. “Do I get to pick what film to watch?”

Yangyang’s hand practically snatches eight pieces of Doritos to throw them inside his mouth, nodding in the process. “That was the initial plan.”

“Okay.” Taking the remote from his hands, she skims through the unreleased films he had talked about. “How do you even have these films?”

“My family owns a film production company. They all come from there.” Yangyang says as if it’s the most casual thing in the world, and she tries not to make a big deal out of it.

“Then, how did you end up in a reality show?”

“It’s a reality show to, well, like, show the lives of rich people and their children. I’m not always there, like, I’m not a regular.”

“Ah, I see…” She replies. “Does your family appear more regularly on the show?”

“What?” Yangyang asks incredulously, smiling.

“You said rich people and their children…”

“Yeah, but my family didn’t want to tag along.” His voice doesn’t become distant, fingers resting on her shoulder to play a bit with the fabric of her shirt. “Mom said if I was crazy for putting a portion of my life out there—for basically looking for the wrong kind of, like, of…” He looks up for a second, finding the right words. “Publicity, but I didn’t care at the time. I thought it was just going to be like recordings of my friends and I when we went out partying.”

“And what is it like?” She questions, cheek squished against his skin, movies momentarily forgotten for a moment, for her eyes are absolutely connected to this portion of him—the real behind the blinding smile.

“They give you a script and they make you sign a contract that says you have to, like, always be involved in drama, I want to say?” Yangyang chuckles in the process. “Basically, if I stayed quiet for too long, my manager would have to make me do something. Like, I don’t know, create a dating rumor or something…and that would have people talking for a while and boom,” He claps his hands together, right over her body, making her chuckle in the process. “We have a new season.” Though, the position makes him be a bit closer to her, enough for her to count his eyelashes, see the small blemishes on his delicate skin.

“Do you do that right now?”

“Nope, I stopped being a regular because of that.” Yangyang drags his voice, a groan coming soon after. “It was tiring. I’m just there for the fun…and for acting experience, I guess. It’s fun to see the drama go on when I’m not in the drama.”

“Huh, interesting.”

“What about you?”

“Pardon?”

“What do you do?” His back comes in contact with the couch once again, leaving her with the time to breathe in oxygen and not his pure cologne. Somehow, she misses it.

“I’m a singer.” Though, she corrects herself when Yangyang parts his lips in surprise. “Well, I am trying to be a singer—let’s just say I am unemployed as of now. I have a manager, just haven’t had my big break, that’s all.”

“You are not part of a record label?” Yangyang asks, only to have her shaking her head. “Well, I have some contacts. I think one of my cousins owns a record label, so I could call him up—”

“Yangyang, you haven’t even heard me sing.” She tells him…because Yangyang lives his life with a blindfold, stepping forward without seeing if there’s an abyss just two steps away. “Are you always like this with strangers? You can’t offer me opportunities like that—”

For the first time in a while, Yangyang stays silent—he never does, much less does he look like he’s deep in thought, as if there is a portion of him that questions the reason behind his smiles, his humongous parties, his social presence that seems to follow him everywhere he goes. “Isn’t it better to trust too much than not trust anyone at all?”

“No.” She says, fingers coming up to interlock with his on her shoulder. “Yangyang, you’re going to end up hurt. Not by me, I can reassure you that, but by someone else…”

“It’s not like it hasn’t happened.” Yangyang says, and the seriousness in his voice is masked by a cramped smile. “It, like, it doesn’t matter. I’m a savage. I have money. It doesn’t matter, really. I can get over anything.”

“…Yeah, but you should be careful about what you give out to people.”

“A record deal isn’t that big of a—”

“Yangyang, I have spent years trying to find a record deal, of course it’s difficult—”

“Then, let me help you.”

“No.” She adds. “The beauty of reaching your dream is knowing you went through Hell and back for it, and you never gave up.”

One hand rests over her head, moving her from side to side. “That’s such a big brain person saying. I don’t even know what, like, to tell you.” Laughter bubbles from her, staring at his brown eyes that twinkle under the sunlight that peaks through the windows. “Okay, I’ll let it be.”

“Okay. Thank you, anyways.”

“Anytime.” This time around, she does turn her attention back to the TV screen, humming a song to herself as she looks through the options. “Oh shit, I forgot the drinks.”

Yet, she’s too comfortable in his arms to really care about that at this moment. “We can go search for them after the movie.”

“Are you really going to have Doritos without some soda on the side?”

“…Yes. It’s the healthier option, actually.”

“It’s not the—” Yangyang cuts himself short, sighing deeply. “It’s not the funniest option, darling. Life is about having fun.”

“Are we really having this conversation over soda?”

“Yes.” Yangyang throws his head back, neck in full display for her to see when he calls out a name she doesn’t know: “Lai Fang!” Silence. “Lai Fang, can you get me some soda, please?”

It must be one of his workers, now that she thinks about it, but much to Yangyang’s surprise, more than one person get out of the kitchen. Each of them dressed to utmost perfection—all in black uniforms, but sporting something similar other than that…the luggage that they carry, some bags, some simply display their disappointment on their faces.

The woman in the front, with short hair and lively nature, lets the wrinkles on her face speak about her years of hard work when she lowers her voice the slightest. “Yangyang, I’m sorry to say that I am not going to be working here anymore. None of us are.”

Maybe, since this is a date, she had expected Yangyang to act remotely cool. However, his arm slips away from the back of her head as he stands up, rushing to whom she supposes is Lai Fang. “What? No, no, no, no, no.” He repeats, waving his hands in the air as panic overtakes him. “I’ve paid you all. My chefs, my cleaners, my valets, my guards. What? Why are you leaving?”

Lai Fang sighs deeply, taking Yangyang’s hands in between hers before rubbing soft circles on top of the skin. “Yang, your family asked for some time-out. We will no longer be working here for you because they want you to learn how to fend for yourself. Something about being too spoiled—”

“Guys!” Yangyang says, a smile on his face as he tries to mend things. She rests her chin on the backrest of the couch, staring at the scene unfolding in front of her. His world is crumbling down at his feet at that mere moment. “Guys, we don’t have to tell them! I’m perfectly fine with doing my stuff, but you know how it is…nothing will ever be the same without all of you guys here!”

“We have to leave, Yangyang.” Lai Fang lets go of his hands, and what seems to be tears gather at her eyes as she pulls away from him.

“No, Lai Fang! You can’t leave—!” Almost like a kid watching his mother go to work in the morning as he stayed home on a Saturday, Yangyang tries to rush for the entrance door, stopping anyone from leaving. Had it not been for one of the other workers winning over him in speed and opening the door, no one would have been able to leave. “What am I going to do now?”

“Be a normal young adult and live your own life.” Lai Fang says, rubbing her eyes before waving her hand at Yangyang one last time. “You can always text me if you need help, but this is the last day I’m working for you, Yangyang.”

“But—” His words are cut off with the staff leaving one by one, not hearing his pleas when the door closes in front of him before he could say anything else.

Silence fills the air. Seconds in which his eyes seem to be trained to that door, as if he just had a nightmare and he’ll wake up at any second. The screen still blinks and calls for their attention, so she does what would be best in that moment—

“Let’s watch a movie and calm down for a second, okay?”

Yangyang cuts himself out of whatever trance he had put himself in, clearing his throat before nodding. “Yeah, I’ll go look for the soda.”

“Sure. I’ll wait for you here.”

The sound of pans clashing against each other, plates clanking obnoxiously and Yangyang cursing under his breath continuously tells her that this won’t be easy for him. Liu Yangyang has been left to be a normal adult for once, and he can’t quite fit in into the role. What a curse.

###

With soup sloshing around the container that she holds in between her hands, she doesn’t know how to ring Yangyang’s doorbell. She could scream, of course, but she doubts he will hear her from the depths of his mansion. Not that there are a lot of people there to start with, considering that all his staff left only days ago, but with how saddened he has been about the loneliness in his own home, she can imagine he’s buried deep in his bed, earphones taking him to a whole new world where he doesn’t actually have to prepare lunch.

Her foot must do.

She brings her foot up until it graces the doorbell, but it falls down before she could ring it. Fuck. She repeats the action and digs the tip of her Converse shoes into the doorbell, creating a prolonged sound that should call out for Yangyang’s attention. In the far distance, she hears an unintelligible scream that she connects to his presence, followed by the sprinting that she knows he always does when going through his house.

Out of the many things she has done for someone she is interested in—cursive in interested, there’s nothing more there—, making them the healing soup she had perfected from an online recipe and bringing it to them wasn’t an option. Sure, maybe she just feels a tad guilty for what happened to Yangyang, it wasn’t his fault to live in a world of fantasies and for him to be dropped into reality in the blink of an eye. That doesn’t happen to a lot of people.

But, why is she helping him?

The door opens to welcome the sight of Yangyang looking like the most beautiful mess she has ever met. For the first time in her life, she believes it when people say the best of attractions come when you’re attracted to everything, including their imperfections. His brown hair stays a mess on his head, sticking around in several portions. Eyebags cover his usually taut skin, and for utmost reference of what he is doing, his hands are bathed in soap. His shirt—once white, she can realize that much—now sprawls bits of pink in the weirdest of places, the only thing seemingly put together the gray sweatpants on his nice legs.

“Help.” Yangyang breathes out at that moment, not quite realizing that his hands are very soapy when he comes forward to wrap her up in a hug. Yangyang’s dramatic on his actions, she believes, and his parents may want to start pondering on adding him to one of their movies by the way he lifts her off her feet the slightest to hug her, bending her back a bit to be able to push his weight forward, hide his face on her hair and let out the longest sigh she has heard. “I’m trying to do laundry and all my clothes are now pink.”

…She’s helping him because of this.

The hand that is not only onto the container rests on his back, fingers threading over the fabric of his shirt to rub against his scapula. “Oh, baby, that’s no good…”

“I’ve been doing laundry for an entire night and now all my Alexander Wang collection is gone.”

Oh, shit.

One of her friends had mentioned the Alexander Wang collection…and she doesn’t know how much it is worth, but it’s one hell of a lot.

“Yang, have you had anything to eat?”

“Cheetos count?”

She pulls away to look into his eyes, running her free hand over his locks to pat them in place, though his hands don’t let go of her waist and her eyes can’t get enough of this sight of his face that she had not seen. The pout, the helplessness, the beauty of wanting to try to be normal. “Cheetos don’t count.” She mumbles, lifting the container up to his face. “I brought you some soup. My special healing soup.”

With nimble fingers, he grasps onto the plastic container, eyes widening momentarily before he babbles out: “A—And you’re helping me learn how to do laundry?”

“How about this?” She makes herself at home when she goes past him, taking off her jacket and swathing it on the hanger at the corner. “I’ll teach you how to be a normal person. Laundry. How to use a stove. All of the like.”

Yangyang closes the door behind him, his fingers now coming in contact with the little post-it note she had placed on top of the container, and she has to look away the moment he lowers his gaze to read it in a mumble.

“You can do it, Yang.” He reads out, before a sweet giggle leaves his lips. “Okay, let’s learn how to be a normal person.”

###

“Wait, wait, wait, hold up.” Even when saying that, Yangyang’s actions don’t falter the slightest bit, squatting in front of her guitar case to open it as she prepares her electric guitar for a street performance. “You have to do this every time you run out of money?”

He doesn’t understand it, and she can’t bring herself to be mad at him, looking around in case anyone has heard the mere obvious. She still owes her landlord one month of rent and in light of not having any café or bar performances coming soon, she has to search for a way to reunite the money to be able to pay her rent. Crossing the guitar over her chest and making sure the guitar amplifier is well connected, she hums at what he says.

The city bustles on its wake this afternoon, people going from side to side, the lake behind her surrounded by tourists and people who want to have their sweet picnics. Much to their delight, she’s going to sing today…and that may be against what they would have imagined their afternoon to go like.

“Yep.” She pops the word out, lowering the volume and practicing some of her minor chords. “Yangyang, being an artist is difficult and maybe, I’m just really not that talented, and that’s why—”

Yangyang moves his hands from side to side in front of her, movements erratic and somewhat dramatic, the sleeves of his designer sweater floating around his hands comically. “We’re not saying that. You’re talented. That’s something I have already established.”

“You haven’t even heard me play or sing anything.”

This is all he needs, a challenge or a dare, something that makes him sit in front of her guitar case, dropping a few bills into it that may be a little bit too much, his whole attention trained towards her—weeks of knowing him and still, she can’t see an imperfection in him that doesn’t make her heart beat rapidly, either in annoyance or because she’s flattered by this whole new world that she has met with him. “Okay, play something.” Yangyang says, bringing his knees up his chest, his chin squishing itself against the bony surface before nodding softly. “I’ll be your biggest fan, I promise.”

She has played the guitar too many times, sang even more, when sober or when drunken, when in a party or when alone, but somehow, this feels different. His eyes on hers, studying her but never judging her, listening and truly understanding the words that escape her lips when she sings, watching her with so much intent that she feels nervousness for the first time. Her eyes close, trying to lose herself in the feeling of being there—of being supported, because Liu Yangyang oddly feels like her first fan, and she’s not quite against it.

When she opens her eyes, minutes later to start another song, she’s surprised not to see Yangyang. Not that he is too far away, blending into the groups of people as he calls them over, pointing at her widely in a way that has her laughing a bit at herself in between the words she is singing. Yangyang sprints from one place to the other, capturing people as he says:

“Do yourselves a favor and listen to her!”

It’s at that moment that she realizes there is really something more than interest, but what would be closer to love at first sight. There, with him, she can’t imagine having no one else by her side. There, with him, she wondered how in the world destiny had connected the two of them. Not a bad match, but definitely an unexpected one.

###

There’s a reason why human contact is so beautiful, and it is because the brain has the possibility of remembering far more than what we intend. Homely, it feels like, when Yangyang enters the convenience store after parking the cheapest of his convertibles outside, and decides to slot his fingers in between hers. Slim fingers, nails that come in contact with the outside of her hand, his rings scalding in coldness against her skin. There are diamonds in there, ones that left imprints each time he held her hand, but now she can’t get enough of them.

She wouldn’t say Yangyang is perfect—he isn’t. Spoiled, he seems to be, somewhat lost in his own world of seeing the good in everyone. For him, spending as much as he does is enjoying life, but he’s learning. A good listener, a copycat of what he hears and deems right, Yangyang now comes into a new phase of his life.

With her free hand, a kiss resting on her cheek in the process, she takes a cart out of its confines. Yangyang fixes the cap on his head as if not to bother her when he goes for another kiss to her cheek, the fabric of his white sweater—no longer making his clothes turn pink, thankfully—rubs against her forearm when she speaks up. “Now, Yangyang, how much should we normally spend in groceries?”

The man thinks for a moment, walking forward with her as she goes to the first hall. “I don’t know, like, seven hundred bucks?”

She turns to him with her eyebrows very raised, lips parted before breathing out the deepest of: “No. Yangyang, what the fuck? You live alone, I’m sure you can get to spend much less than that.”

“Sorry.” Yangyang speaks, laughter overtaking his body, his shoulders shaking in the process. “I spend like a thousand at minimum every time I buy something.”

This is the part of her that, sometimes, feels like Yangyang and her will never fit into the same sentence. Too different of lives can only create a mess when colliding together. A beautiful mess, she likes to call it. Losing him is not something she is thinking about as of now. “No, Yangyang, we’re not—We’re not doing that.”

“Okay, so what must I do?” Yangyang asks, and she takes this moment to dip her hand into her own pocket, taking her phone out, unlocking it and giving it to him.

“We’re going to use our trusting friend, a calculator, and try to stop ourselves from overspending.” She speaks softly, listening to the faint sound of what seems to be jazz music in the background. “And by us, I mean you.”

“In my defense, I always ‘almost failed’ math class in high school.” Yangyang replies and, as always, he makes her laugh.

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey! I was a great student in, like, language class and stuff.”

Something about the smiles they both share makes her feel perfect—it shouldn’t, never has she felt quite like this, and somehow, she can’t bring herself to pull away when his lips come forward and rest on her forehead. Not that he has gotten anywhere remotely close to her lips, though, practically prolonging the stress of not knowing where they stand. Friends. Friends that like each other. Fire and water coming together. Something.

It’s comfortable, but no one knows exactly what it is.

###

The shivering feeling that comes after a sip of lemonade, sugar to the tongue, on a hot day of summer is the best feeling in this world. It reminds her of excitement—to reply to someone’s text on the early stages of dating, to get on stage for the first time after hearing a round of applause, all in one simplistic taste. Not even the laughter that surrounds her living room as her friends gather around could make her feel as great.

Her head lays on Bingbing’s lap, the fabric of the red dress Yangyang had bought for her relishing against her skin when she turns to her side, listening to the story Elena is telling through sips of her wine, the glasses ones that she hadn’t ever gotten out of her shelves but now co-exist in the hands of her friends. Life is good, for one second, she doesn’t have to think about the unknowingness of her existence in a world that is much too big.

Though, someone knocks at her door, enough to interrupt Elena as she presses her mouth in a thin line. “Who could it be? We haven’t ordered anything yet.” Elena says, and Bingbing takes the time to extend her hands after she gets off, pulling her dress down the slightest to cover more of her thighs and go over to the door.

“We should. I’m craving pizza like crazy.” Bingbing instructs, but she doesn’t pay much attention to what the woman is saying. Instead, she pulls a sweater up and down her body, covering the neckline of her dress before getting the door. Fingers threading on the doorknob, she opens it without really checking who it is, and if someone had told her this would be a sight for her to see months ago, she would’ve laughed straight at their faces.

A starry-looking button down covers his chest, but his legs are in display thanks to his ripped jeans, yet the dark color scheme is changed for something much brighter when his lips part in a smile and he points at the cardboard he has hanging from his neck thanks to some thick thread.

In red letters, much too bright, clearly in his handwriting, Yangyang has written ‘Kissing Booth’ and one dollar by its side. “Hi!” Yangyang greets, making everyone in the living room shush themselves to listen to what they’re saying—he may not see them, but all her friends had noticed him. “So, since you don’t let me help you economically and, like, you said you would only accept money that you’ve earned…I’m doing a kissing both. One dollar and I give a kiss out. So, you know, I can give you some money.”

She has to frown at his logic, or maybe, it’s the idea of Yangyang kissing anyone but her that makes the lemonade glass on her hands almost fall. “Yang, what are you even talking about?”

“All profits from the kissing booth will go directly to your bank account for your rent.” He indicates, moving his feet back and forth before looking up. “…I haven’t had any clients, though—”

“You are not having any clients.” She conquers.

“Why?”

“I’m not letting you kiss anyone.” The moment those words leave her lips, she can hear Liying snickering in the far distance, too soft for it to be heard by anyone, much more when Shishi splays her hand on top of her mouth to keep her from making any noise. “…For me. I’m not letting you kiss anyone for me.”

“Why?” Yangyang asks, leaning his weight against the doorframe before quirking an eyebrow. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“…Ah…” She clears her throat, not noticing just how close he is until she feels that damned, obnoxiously ugly cardboard sign bump against her chest. “What if I am?”

Taking his wallet out of his pocket, Yangyang gets out a lot more bills than necessary, putting them on her hand before shrugging. “You shouldn’t. Someone just paid you around a hundred kisses from the kissing booth guy. I don’t know the source, though.”

With her heart thumping like crazy, she watches as Yangyang takes her by the waist, hands fisting the fabric of her sweater before his lips descended upon hers. Fervor bleeds through his kisses, wanting and needing more of her, overtaking any rational thoughts as he makes all the worries dissipate. Her hands have a mind of their own as they thread through his hair, never getting enough of him—enough of the fantasies he likes to live just to spice up her reality.

When he pulls away, he gives a step forward, ready to take her inside until she breathes out quickly: “Yang, all my friends are here.”

“What?” The poor guy says, roses blooming on his cheeks when he turns to the left, watching the group of women raise their hands in the air.

“Surprise!” They all greet in a way that has Yangyang hiding his face on the crook of her neck, bringing a smile to her face.

She could get used to this. Not for three seconds, but for much longer.

#yangyang scenarios #yangyang #wayv scenarios #wayv #nct scenarios #nct #kpop scenarios #writing #how to lose someone in seven steps?

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elisela · 4 years

Text

in a language you can understand buck x eddie, g, 2k, for anon who asked for Eddie buying little gifts for Buck and hiding them in his work bag

He blames it on hour twenty-three of a twenty-four hour shift when what comes out of his mouth after Chim tosses a bag of Skittles at his face is “I bet I could fit all these in my mouth at once.”

Hen shakes her head, Chim snorts, but Buck narrows his eyes and leans his elbows on the table, pulling himself as close to Eddie as he can get without climbing over the thing. “Coward,” he says, his mouth quirking into a grin, “I bet I could fit two.”

“Not at the station,” Bobby says, sounding bored. “There’s too much paperwork involved if one of you becomes injured on the job, even if it’s your own fault.”

“No, definitely at the station,” Hen says. “There’s more work involved if we have to break in a new probie because one of you idiots chokes to death.”

The conversation drifts, and Eddie forgets about it until he’s at the grocery store later, ignoring the way his son sticks out his lower lip as he begs for a candy bar. When Chris picks up a bag of Skittles, Eddie sighs and says yes, then throws two more bags on the conveyor belt when Chris isn’t looking.

He hides them in Buck’s work bag the next day.

---

“Skip-It,” Hen says, looking wistful. “My neighbor had one when I was a kid and I swear, I used to stare at her for hours when she’d play in the courtyard. I wanted one so badly.”

“Couldn’t you just … skip?” Buck asks, looking confused. “You needed a toy for that?”

Hen rolls her eyes. “It went around your ankle,” she says. “Here, I’ll google it for you.”

“What about you, Cap?” Chim asks, as Buck leans his head in towards Hen to peer at her phone. “Which childhood toy did you miss out on?”

Bobby tilts his head for a moment. “Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots,” he says, refocusing on the pan in front of him. “My Mom thought they were too violent. She’d have a lot to say about what kids are playing with now.”

“Oh, don’t start us on the ‘kids these days’ speech,” Buck groans. “Quick, Eddie, distract him.”

“Uhh,” Eddie says, thinking—he’s sure there are there plenty of toys he’d begged for but never received, but clearly his parents had been right when they said he’d forget about them because he can’t recall a single one, except—“moon shoes,” he says, and at Buck and Hen’s blank look, he appeals to Chim. “You know, they were about four inches tall, like mini-trampolines? My parents said I’d break my ankle.”

“They were probably right,” Buck says. “You know how many calls we get because of trampoline accidents.”

“Alright, Bambi,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Most of us have control over our own limbs. What’s yours, then?”

Buck shrugs. “It’s kinda stupid, but there weren’t any kids in our neighborhood and Maddie wasn’t really into stuff like this, but you remember that game where you had like—a velco glove? And you’d catch a tennis ball?”

“Magic Mitt,” Chim says, snapping his fingers. “I wanted one of those, too. I should buy one for the baby.”

“I’d pay to see a three month old who could catch,” Hen says at the same time as Buck snorts and says, “I bet Maddie will love you throwing a tennis ball at Joy’s head.”

Three weeks later, Eddie’s gently pushing Chris out of the dollar section at Target when he spots a round velcro disc with a tennis ball attached in a bin full of summer games. He grabs two; one gets tossed on the back porch with the rest of Christopher’s outdoor toys, and the other goes in his work bag until it can be transferred to Buck’s locker.

----

The thing is, Eddie’s been in love with Buck for … well. He’d felt something for him right away, the type of attraction that goes beyond surface level, the pull towards another person’s soul, all of Buck’s goodness a lit beacon that illuminated Eddie’s way back to being whole. It was just never the right time, not with all his insecurities, Buck’s insecurities—every time Eddie thought maybe, the universe said not yet. His common sense gave way to guilt when Shannon reappeared, all of Buck’s near-death experiences, the way he so easily lost control of himself when what anchored him was suddenly gone.

It’s not that he thinks they don’t have what it takes to go the distance, but after Shannon—he’s more cautious now. He knows relationships take work and he’s willing to put that in, but he also knows how easily things break, and he’s not about to lose the one shot he has with Buck, so he’s just … waiting for the right time.

It’s probably been the right time for awhile now, but somehow, despite Hen and Chim’s ongoing conversation about who will ask out who first that regularly takes place in front of him (Buck, they unanimously decided), he hasn’t been able to go through with it.

----

After that, it’s little rubber toys that grow in water (shaped like a fireman and a fire truck), a candle that smells like lemon (because Buck had peeled one and eaten it like an orange the week before), a pack of two half-gallon, brown glass jars with “coffee” written on the side after a week that Buck worked three 36 hour shifts, a mini-waffle maker, a jar of Nutella (which Eddie had then been forced to watch Buck lick—so very slowly—off a spoon, an image which had not left his mind for several very long, lonely weeks), a packet of stickers that was surely meant for teachers but Buck immediately started giving out to everyone at the station (Eddie had laughed himself silly at the look on Chim’s face when Buck slapped one of a unicorn that said “great job!” on his uniform shirt and said “great job dating my sister!”), notebooks and silly pens—for months, every time he saw something small and cheap that made him think of Buck, he’d buy it and find a way to hide it in Buck’s bag or locker.

Buck never says anything, but Eddie watches the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he finds something, the way his smile softens into something more private and tender, sees how Buck makes sure he shows whatever it is off in front of Eddie—chugging cold brew straight out of the coffee bottle before he makes a face at the bitter taste, spends hours on the couch playing hangman with Hen in the notebooks, handing her the blue pen with the googly-eyed flamingo on top and keeping the one shaped like a shark for himself, trying to keep a straight face while his shoulders shake with laughter as Bobby reprimands both of them for shooting their coworkers with squirt guns while they run around the fire station. He doesn’t need Buck to say anything—he likes that he doesn’t, that it’s just something between the two of them that Buck doesn’t make into a big deal.

It goes on for so long that it’s almost second nature to pick something up for Buck whenever he goes shopping, and gradually, the gifts get a little more—intentional. A tie-dye hoodie after he sees a picture of an eight year old Buck wearing one (and a matching one for Chris), a “world’s best uncle” mug after Buck worries that Albert sees Joy more than he does and she might start to prefer him, a Greek cookbook after the fifth time they go out to the new restaurant in his neighborhood (Eddie might get more out of that than Buck does considering the sheer amount of baklava that starts appearing at the station—Eddie’s favorite treat).

As it turns out, he thinks about Buck a lot.

-----

“Sasha says you have to get your best friend an extra special Halloween treat,” Chris says, looking over the row of candy carefully.

“Sound like Sasha wants better candy,” Eddie says, grabbing a bag of caramel apple suckers for the station.

And maybe for himself.

Chris gives him a look. “Sasha’s not my best friend,” he says, turning back to the candy. “Buck is.”

“Well, can’t stand in the way of that,” he says. “Go ahead and pick something out.”

Chris finally hands him a bag of fancy marshmallows shaped like mummies, and peers into the cart. “What’d you get him this time?”

Eddie stares at him.

“You always get him something,” Chris says. “He’s your best friend, too, you need to get him something extra special. Hey, maybe you should tell him to get me something special, too.”

“Like he needs any more encouragement,” Eddie says.

On their way through the bakery aisle, he spots frosted cookies with phrases piped onto them; he grabs a witch that says “you’re bewitching” on it, and puts it in Buck’s locker just before the end of their shift.

Buck smiles all the way out to his Jeep.

-----

The week after, it’s a travel coffee mug that says “I think you’re spooktacular” that Buck carries with him on every call for three shifts before Chim puts it in the top rack of the dishwasher and it melts the side.

The pout on Buck’s lips pleases Eddie a little too much. So when he’s browsing the shelves at Target, waiting for Chris to find a costume he finds suitable that is also school appropriate and finds another Halloween themed cup—this time, with “Will you be my boo?” written on it, he only hesitates for a moment before putting it in the cart.

He doesn’t build up the courage to put it in Buck’s bag for two weeks—it’s not until Eddie notices the way that his face falls after six shifts with nothing new appearing in his locker that he shoves it in Buck’s bag after a shift, when Buck runs upstairs to give something to Chim.

They’re saying goodbye to Hen when Buck turns towards him suddenly. “I have something for Chris,” he says, and Eddie’s anxiety spikes when Buck sets his bag down and opens it up. He stares at the cup for a long time, then looks up at Eddie, glances at Hen, and smiles. “Hey, Eddie,” he says, “you wanna go out to dinner with me tomorrow? Like—a date?”

Hen’s bag hits the floor.

“Oh, no,” Eddie says, shaking his head as Buck’s mouth twitches. “No, you don’t get to take credit for this, I practically—that counts as me asking,” he says, waving towards the bag. “I asked you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Buck says, tossing a paper bag at him before standing up and clapping him on the shoulder. “Pick you up at six?”

“I’ll pick you up because I asked you,” he says, looking over at Hen. “I did. Show her the cup, Buck.”

“Dress warm, we’re going to a corn maze,” Buck says, skipping backwards with a wink. “And grab some blankets for your truck!”

-----

The week after their first date, there’s a small framed picture sitting in his locker—Buck with his arm around Eddie’s shoulders at the corn maze, their smiling faces lit by the bonfire, a bottle of beer dangling from Buck’s fingers. The lettering on the frame says “thankful for you” with a tiny leaf etched next to it.

Eddie sets it out on their reception table two years later.

#buddie #buddie fic #911fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #i told you guys i'd make up for the touch-starved one #here is 2k of endless fluff that will rot your teeth out #and bonus halloween because it's spooky season #it's crying over eddie diaz hours #eli writes

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heleizition · 4 years

Note

How Alfred interact with his shifter babies? Where is Barbara in all of this? Is she a shifter or human? Also, I want to know more about Tim's parents... How was they and how Tim ended up with batfamily?

ok hold on . .. i need a second . .. im thinking about alfred holding like, baby panther dick in hi arms n smilng softly,,, jst . .. give me a moment . ..... like ... hes cooking n hyerna jason who’s starting to grow jst sits beside him n tucks his head on the counter n looks at alfred like feed me and alfred is so so fond of his grandsons yk,,, of his family,,,, cries

OK SO beside that tim shifts from cat to human the first time with alfred,,, hes a safe adult in his eyes and he trusts him and its a trust alfred hasnt and wont ever betray. cass just likes to sit on his shoulder while he has tea,,, he makes her a cup and she flies over to drink when she feels like it but mostly she’s chilling. steph usually runs around and tries to pick things up to “help” alfred and he gives her lil pets,,,, duke usually feels like in the way when hes shifted and alfred is cleaning up or working around him so he usually shift back and helps and it makes alfred smile a lot even after he tries to shoo duke away bc thats His Job yk,,, duke still helps sefooefshofse

OK UM i admit i did not think of babs bc she always slips from my mind,,,, i dont have a big connection to her character,,,, im not sure if she’s a shifter yet i gotta think but i kinda feel ,,, fox for her,,,,, if u have other suggestions im open ? i dont know much about her character sadly,,,,

OK SO under the cut is tim’s story n how he met and ended up w the bat, big tw for animal (shifter) abuse and child abuse, starvation, abandonment, umm mutilation & description of injury

tim first turned into a cat (to his parents knowledge) when he was about 4 or 5. he’d been already introduced to the world but as he was a small child they hadn’t really been showing him around everywhere so only a handful of people knew/remembered small boy tim. janet has a particular hate toward that branch in her family that can shift so she’s really jst. hating her son having it and she immediately just. decides that she just doesnt want to see him. so jack and her just start locking him in a tiny cat cage, which prevent him from turning back into a boy, feed him catfood when they remember to feed him. at some point they get him declawed (which gives him terribly vivid nightmares of human him getting his fingers torned off of his hand) and when they leave they give him a tight collar while leaving him out of the cage which prevnts him from shifting back bc the collar would just go through tim’s throat if he shifted to human.

so tim drake ends up . not existing. everyone forgets the drakes had a son, tim very rarely gets to be in human shape (which hurts at some point), and when he does his parents usually yell at him and making him feel very unwanted, going as far as throwing things at him until he jst, shifts back and makes himself as small and forgotten as possible. he stopped going to school early, but he still taught himself to read (u gotta do smth when ur stuck as a cat for years) and went through lots of his parents books (that were on bottoms shelfs bc its hard to put the books back in the right shelves while in cat form and he gets yelled at enough as it is just for existing).

so he’s like 10, and his parents have been gone for a while . and he’s rly not doing good. he’s not rly clinging to life. he’s underfed. everything hurts. his brain isn’t really reactive anymore. and hes on the wall between the drakes and the wayne’s estate dick and jason are in the garden, playing around, and he just. falls asleep. passes out from exhaustion and his body kind of giving up on him.

they hear him or see him, idk, they find him and jason shifts back, holding the small kitten in his arms and he runs inside, n they take care of him, the adress on the collar said he’s from next door,,, at this point they dont know he’s a shifter,, but when he wakes up tim’s all warm and tucked against a warm body (dick) and jason is beside them petting him gently and the second tim is awake he’s tense and trying to get away bc humans have done nothing but hurt him at this point yk,, he’s barely ever met anyone,,, he sticks to the drake’s house bc he’s terrified they’ll know if he goes somewhere else

(altho deep down he thinks they’d be happy if they came home to an empty house)

and when he wakes up. thats when dick n jay understand he’s not just a cat, he’s a shifter, n jason holds him in place to remove the collar bc he *knows* he cant possibly be able to shift to human with it,,, but even without it tim doesnt shift back, hes jst, scared cat,,,,

(”hey, it’s ok, we’re like you” jason says, in the most gentle voice dick’s ever heard him use. there is a moment of silence, where the kitten blinks, and then the familiar noise of flesh rearranging itself while jason shifts into his hyena form. he’s careful to keep his distance, laying on his stomach to make himself smaller - which helps, but not by much as he’s still huge compared to the little shifter in front of them. dick knows the lines of tension and those of exhaustion in their muscles, and remembers how they didn’t even stir when jason had carried them inside. he shifts.

“i’m gonna get you some food, okay ?” he levels his tone with his brothers. “we should have some fruits around, upstairs. fish maybe ? if you’d like ? or something else.” he smiles that smiles only he knows how to smile. “or maybe you’d like to pick yourself ?”

the little cat manages to make themselves smaller.)

they eventually manage to feed him and hydrate him, and dick tells alfred and bruce about the little shifter while jason keeps an eye on him,,, bruce connect the drake and tim shaped dots. he remembers janet and jack rejecting a gala invitation a while back bc she had recently delivered, only he’d never seen the kid.

tim only lets jason and dick close a first, bc they’re younger, bc they’re shifters, and then alfred bc alfred always brings him food on a plate and with a fork and knife like he’s going to use them as a human. he talks to tim and pets him gently once tim allows it,,, he’s a safe adult.

bruce scares him a lot, even if he’s gentle and he’s a good dad. he’s bigger than jack has ever been, and he knows he could hurt him. he just scares him a lot. he has too much authority, too much presence.

tim shifts back into a human on is seventh day at the manor, while alfred sits with him in a little room tim had hid in. he’s a very small boy and he cries out in pain when he shifts, but alfred puts a hand on his cheek and just smiles

(”hello, my boy”)

tim is very quiet, takes a shower and shifts back before anyone else can see him,,, but slowly he lets it happen around the others. one time dick n jay wake up from a nap session to a little boy suggled between them,,, there is a lot of hurt and pain from jason bc he’s been that little boy, hurt and scared and in pain, and it brings back a lot of sad things,,,

eventually he lets himself shift into bruce’s arms on the second week and he cries a lot n bruce tells him he figured out he’s the drake’s son, and jst, h, he adopts

#ask me #shifter au #PLS READ THE TW #wandersmoklight

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blvejeanbaby · 4 years

Text

4 times we almost kissed + 1 time we actually did

Pairing: Seonghwa x reader Word count: 2956

i. cabin

The cabin was almost completely silent, there were just a few snores from the boys’ room. Somehow the log cabin lended itself to a perfect split between the girls and the boys, the common area being in the middle of both dormitories. It was in this common area that you found yourself, the clock having just struck 3 AM. The kitchen was dark but you didn’t bother turning on the light solely for tea making purposes.

Perhaps it was for that reason that you jumped at the light switch being turned on. You spun around, ready to use your tea spoon as a weapon, only to find an equally as shocked Seonghwa. You relaxed and lowered your spoon. “Sorry,” you chuckled, a little bit embarrassed. “I thought you were an intruder or something.”

“Did the ghost stories scare you?” Seonghwa opened the fridge and grabbed a milk carton, leaning against the counter top as he drank from it. You had felt his eyes on you earlier that evening, while all of you were gathered around the bonfire to exchange ghost stories. Normally you were all down for a good ghost story, but the proximity of the cabin to a forest that was suspected to be haunted, hadn’t sat well with you.

“A little,” you said, shovelling sugar into your tea.

“That’s not going to help you sleep,” he said, his eyebrows raised.

You shrugged. “I think my sleep rhythm is beyond saving anyway.” You stirred your cup, setting it a little further away from the edge to wait for it to cool down a little. “So what is keeping you up? If you want to share, of course?”

Seonghwa crumpled up the empty milk carton and threw it in the trash can. “I don’t know. New environments, maybe.” He shrugged and spun back around to face you. “Do you want me to read to you?”

“Read to me?” you raised an eyebrow at him. Was he kidding?

There was something that on other people you would have described as a blush, but seeing as you had never seen Seonghwa blush before, you weren’t sure if your eyes were playing tricks on you or not. “My mother always used to do that when I was little. It would help me sleep.”

“I don’t think there’s any bed time stories in this cabin. Just the Bible.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll make something up.”

You looked at Seonghwa, his sincere expression and how cuddly he looked in his pyjama’s; checkered pyjama bottoms and a fuzzy sweater. So you nodded, taking your tea with you to the couch, where Seonghwa built you both a comfortable space on the couch, with blankets and pillows. You wanted to sit on the opposite end of the couch, but he softly pulled you near him, so you were laying in between his legs, your head resting on his chest. You weren’t sure this was necessary for his bed time story to lull you to sleep, but you didn’t complain, happy to be in his arms, his body heat and the blanket instantly making you sleepier than you had been in your own room. You had never been as close to him as right now and it was making your head spin.

“Once upon a time,” Seonghwa started, already making you giggle. “What?” he said.

“Does the story really have to start with ‘once upon a time?’”

“Don’t you like fairytales?”

You weren’t sure what to say. This moment sure felt like a fairytale to you, and if not a fairytale, then a ridiculously cheesy romcom. You didn’t think this was your life. You shifted a little bit in Seonghwa’s arms, now facing him. “I think they could never be true.”

“How could I prove you wrong? Certain fairytales can come true.”

You shrugged. “Be creative.”

“I’m trying.” Was Seonghwa’s face always this close? Was he always this beautiful? No, not beautiful - handsome? Breathtaking? You were sure something was about to happen, something past friendship and telling you bed time stories, when there was a loud cough.

“I didn’t think I’d wake up to this.” It was Wooyoung, standing on the threshold of the boys’ dormitory. He followed that up sarcastically with: “Oh no, don’t stop on my account.”

You groaned, no longer feeling comfortable enough to be in Seonghwa’s arms like that. “Good night, Hwa,” you said, standing up and taking your tea into the girls’ bedroom.

ii. convenience store

After the time spent at the cabin, it was safe to say you were a little uncomfortable around both Seonghwa and Wooyoung. It was only when the weather turned sunny and warm and the air smelled like blooming flowers again, that you could handle being around either of them on your own.

To celebrate the good weather conditions, your friend group had decided to go out for a picnic in the park. Yeosang had been in charge of getting blankets and cutlery while everyone else brought food and drinks. Eventually the sun started going down and it was decided that you were going to order pizzas to the park. You deemed it coincidence that you ended up being the one to accompany Seonghwa to the convenience store to get the group more drinks.

“Do you know what brand Hongjoong likes?” you asked. Seonghwa had already secured the fizzy drinks for those who didn’t want alcohol while you were attending to those who liked a healthy amount of alcohol once in a while. You had already grabbed the soju and now you were contemplating what type of wine to get. You knew what you liked yourself, but you were trying out 30 days of sobriety and was sticking to fizzy drinks today. You didn’t know the brands your guy friends liked.

“That one.” Seonghwa grabbed it from the shelf and put it in your cart. At this angle, if he looked up, you were sure you were going to be imagining all sorts of things for decades.

“Need anything else?” you asked, scraping your throat lightly. His close proximity to you made you slightly uncomfortable.

He straightened up. “Dessert?”

The previous flicker of a thought compared with Seonghwa’s intense gaze made you gulp. You knew the day was hot, but had the airconditioning in the convenience store suddenly cut out? “U-uh, what kind of-” You nearly tripped backwards over the cart in your attempts to shuffle away from Seonghwa’s intensity. He caught you before you could crash into the shelves behind you and bring down all of the bottles of wine, avoiding a tragedy. But now he was even closer to you.

You gulped and lightly pushed him away. “Thanks. Let’s get mochi.” You spun and almost ran down the aisle, Seonghwa following at a distance.

iii. party

The top you were wearing was downright scandalous and you knew it. Or at least, it was scandalous to your standards. There were other girls at the party who were wearing next to nothing, covering up even less of their bodies than you. And you applauded them for their confidence.

“Another drink?” Yunho held up a bottle of wine, his cheeks rosy with intoxication and his smile wide.

“Sure,” you said, holding out your glass for him to fill up again. You had been drinking a lot tonight, having given up your streak of sobriety - mixes of liquor and soda at first, but now that all of the liquor was gone, you had switched to wine.

“Pour me one too.” Seonghwa suddenly popped up at Yunho’s side, his smile wide. You watched as he held out his glass for Yunho to fill, your attention staying with Seonghwa. If your outfit was scandalous for your standards, then his was too for his standards. The majority of his blouse was see-through, he had layered necklaces on that caught everyone’s attention, judging by the way you had seen some girls pull on them before, trying to lure him in. But he had been too busy hanging with his friends.

“I’m grabbing another bottle,” Yunho announced, holding up the now empty bottle and his own empty glass. He was gone before you could say anything, leaving you and Seonghwa by yourselves in the kitchen.

For a moment it was silent, safe for the noises from the living room flooding in. And then Seonghwa spoke up: “Was it fun?”

“Was what fun?” You brought your glass to your mouth, not really drinking from it, but instead taking the rim in between your teeth.

“Making out with Jongho?”

You cocked your head to the side, looking up at Seonghwa. It was very obvious that he was drunk, more so than you had suspected before. You could see it in his body language, as well as there being something about his face that betrayed it to you. You bit your lip, deciding whether or not to play a little with Seonghwa, teasing him about kissing Jongho. It had been fun, yes, but you weren’t really attracted to Jongho and he wasn’t to you. It was just a passing of drunk time at a party.

“Hmm... he’s the best kisser I know.”

Seonghwa’s face clouded only for a split second. His glass of wine discarded to the counter top beside you, his fingers curling around your belt loops to pull you closer. “I think you should re-evaluate.” He tilted his head slightly and you were very, very sure that this was the moment the tension between you and Seonghwa would finally break when-

“I got another bottle of wine!” Yunho excitedly came into the kitchen, making you and Seonghwa nearly spring apart. “Anyone need a refill?”

v. hallway

“Y/N,” this was San, his enthusiasm clearly visible on his face. “Since you chose truth, you’re going to have to tell us why you don’t have a boyfriend.”

“We’ve gone over this,” you said, exasperated. This was a hot topic whenever any of the guys got tipsy enough to ask. And every time you kind of wanted to tell them to fuck off. But they were your friends and you just couldn’t - but this kind of situation was like going to your family dinner party and being bombarded with the same types of questions over and over again. “I’m just waiting for the right person to ask me.”

“What’s your ideal type?” Jongho asked. The serious look on his face and the lack of alcohol in his body, considering he was on a diet, made you wonder what exactly his motivations were for asking.

You eyed him suspiciously before answering: “I’m not telling.”

“Please!” Wooyoung looked at you with puppy eyes. “If you’re not going to tell, I’m going to assume your ideal type is me.”

“Well, it’s not,” you said. “We’re done discussing. Next. Who’s next?” You looked around the circle of your friends. Yunho looked at you sympathetically, Wooyoung looked a little hurt at your comment, the others seemed to want you to continue on talking. Even Seonghwa looked as though he wanted to know the truth. You sighed. “Fine. My ideal type... Someone who always has my back and is there for me, who makes me feel comfortable.”

“And physically?” Mingi leaned forward.

“Ugh, really, guys?” You looked around the room again, this time in disbelief. “Y’all are really annoying. Fine. Physically - dark hair, tall. Strong build. Now, who was next?”

“Me,” said Yunho, quick to save you. You sent him a grateful smile. After his turn, you excused yourself to grab another drink from the kitchen. You were surprised to see Wooyoung jump up and offer to help you carry drinks and snacks for the others as well.

“You know, Y/N,” he said as you were safely in the kitchen, “you just described Seonghwa word for word.”

“Did not,” you said, cheeks already heating up at the suggestion.

“So he’s not tall? Doesn’t have muscles? His hair is blonde?”

You glanced over your shoulder at Seonghwa, who was perfectly visible from your spot in the kitchen. He was laughing at something Mingi had said, both of their smiles contagious even from this distance. “Technically, his hair is steel blue, which I wouldn’t consider dark,” you said, turning back to grab a new bottle of vodka. “Why do you care so much?”

“I only care about the truth. And the truth is that you’re head over heels for Seonghwa.” Wooyoung grabbed a bottle of some fruit juice to mix the vodka with. “I don’t know how no one else has noticed that you two are having a little thing going on. I’ve seen you cuddling on the couch at the cabin and I’m not going to let you live that down until you two get together.”

“Which will be never.” You tried to keep the disappointment out of your voice as you said so, going back into the living room. “Vodka!” You waved the bottle around as San flocked to it. Jongho looked wistfully at the bottle.

“Hey, Y/N, can I talk to you for a second?” Seonghwa asked.

You heard a snicker behind you from who could only be Wooyoung. “Sure,” you said, following Seonghwa out to the hallway again. You weren’t entirely sure what he was going to say. Did he want to talk about your ideal type? Or about your almost-kiss at the party the other day?

“This is actually a dare,” Seonghwa said as soon as you were out in the hallway. “Yeosang dared me to tell one of us a secret. So I thought I’d tell you.”

“A secret?” You frowned a little.

He nodded. He didn’t even seem remotely nervous, but you were sure it was the alcohol in his system. “I have a crush. And the longer I don’t act on it, the crazier I go.”

You felt your heart beat at least five times as faster than normal. Was this the result of the confession of your ideal type? Or was this something entirely different? “So act on it,” you said. “Act on that crush.”

“Okay.” Seonghwa said, his voice breathless. You gulped as he leaned in closer to you. He was going to back you up against the wall, his face was as close to yours as it had been the night at the cabin and -

“Oh, I’m sorry.” It was Jongho. You groaned as Seonghwa stepped back hastily. “My bad. I-I’ll leave again.” He spun around and was back in the livingroom within a second, but whatever had possessed Seonghwa to try and kiss you, had vanished and you were left with just an awkward situation.

vi. kitchen

“Today we’re making Oreo cheesecake,” you said, holding up your package or Oreo cookies and the mix for the cheesecake, acting like you were in a cooking show. “It’s my best recipe. Also the only recipe I know.”

“Luckily she has me.” Seonghwa bent down a little so he could get his face in frame as well as he waved at Hongjoong.

“You wouldn’t be able to distinguish cheesecake from cheese if you tried,” you said, rolling your eyes at Seonghwa, who shot Hongjoong a look that said “This girl drives me crazy!” “Don’t listen to him, Joongie. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

“Just make sure the cake’s finished when we all get to your place. Otherwise Yeosang doesn’t have a cake.”

“Don’t worry, Joongie,” you said, flashing him a smile. Seonghwa bent down again to wave goodbye to Hongjoong as he hung up and then it was just the two of you again. In your kitchen. “Okay, so we have to start with separating the cookies- Is there a reason you’re staring at me like that?”

Seonghwa blushed heavily and tore his eyes away from you, grabbing another package or Oreo cookies. “Separating the cookies. Okay. Scraping the white off?”

“Yes...” You got to work on the other package and soon enough the ingredients were all mixed together and in the baking mold, ready to spend a few hours in the fridge to firm up. “I can’t wait to taste it,” you said excitedly, shutting the fridge - and getting pushed up against it almost immediately.

“I can’t wait to taste you,” Seonghwa said, his head dipping to the side, suddenly so close to yours. At the feeling of his breath hitting your lips, your breath hitched. There was nothing and no one to interrupt you now and whereas before you might have pushed him away, there was no hair on your body now that would have dreamed of that. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him in, lips pressing together softly.

The kiss started off annoyingly innocent, as if you were two five year olds experiencing a crush for the first time in your lives. Soon enough however, the kiss transformed into something more. It suddenly seemed a lot more plausible that Seonghwa could put his words into action.

A heat spread from your lips, throughout your body, all the way to your toes, lifting you up like a balloon drifting to the skies. It was Seonghwa’s arms around your waist keeping your feet on the ground, pressing your body against his. He was warm and his body was sturdy and so different from the way you had always imagined.

When Seonghwa pulled away you chased after his lips, but he stopped you. “Did I overstep your boundaries?”

“Would I have kissed you the way I did if you had?”

“I guess not,” he said, a hint of shyness on his face.

“Does this mean you’re finally going to ask me to be your girlfriend?”

“Only if you’re going to say yes.”

“Yes.” The smile that broke out on his face was mesmerizing.

#ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez imagine #park seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa imagine #kpop x reader #kpop fluff #kpop imagine #my writing

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