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savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 7 months

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You Cannot Run From Your Past Pt. 2

Mobster!Simon "Ghost" Riley X F!Reader

You could feel Simon’s on you once more, staring down into the very depths of your soul. However you could barely face the man lest you start to get flustered and begin stuttering over your words like some teenager. How could you begin to explain to a man that looked like he could kill you with nothing more than a glare that you weren’t actually afraid of him? A/N:thank you so much for reading part 1! this ones going to get a little spicier so be prepared ;) warnings:light smut, mentions of past abuse, mentions of past murder

Three Months Later

You had woken up feeling better than you had in years, it didn't matter how many times you slept in your new bed, it always felt like the first time. Looking towards the windows you noticed the sun was just starting to peak over the horizon. How long have you slept? You’d fallen asleep just after eight the night before, and if you could figure out what time it was..nearly ten hours. Stretching your limbs you felt your bones pop and crack loudly.

“Come in.” You pushed yourself up slowly, yawning as you tried to fully wake up.

“Price wanted me to make sure you were alright, breakfast should be ready soon.” Simon was standing in the doorway, body adorned with what looked to be a black button up and black slacks.

“Yeah, just gonna take a shower and get ready for the day.” It was your normal routine, and yet it still felt so new.

“I’ll let him know, if you need anything just yell for me.” Simon turned and shut the door, effectively cutting you off from the rest of the house.

The interaction raced through your mind the entire time you got ready, from showering, to getting dressed, to putting on a lighter layer of makeup. Dark circles were not the most flattering thing for an enemy to see, actions had consequences. You’d watched James murder past accountants for showing up tired and not put together. It was sickening. Once you felt presentable with your clothes, hair, and makeup you headed down to see everyone.

He’d been showing more interest as of lately, gazes lingering for longer than a few brief seconds. Or at least, that’s what you’d always assumed according to Soap’s drunken slurs whenever you were allowed a night to relax. You didn’t want to put too much faith into the rumors, lord knows you were harboring quite a crush on him.

“Sorry you’ve been waiting for me, I wanted to make sure I looked presentable.” You sat down across from Simon, fixing the bottom of your dress carefully.

“No worries darling, I like when everyone’s prepared.” Price sipped his tea, looking over a few documents that were scattered on the table.

You could feel Simon’s on you once more, staring down into the very depths of your soul. However you could barely face the man lest you start to get flustered and begin stuttering over your words like some teenager. How could you begin to explain to a man that looked like he could kill you with nothing more than a glare that you weren’t actually afraid of him? It didn’t matter that he was wearing a balaclava with what looked like the top part of a skull stitched onto it. Good lord you needed to cool off and stop fawning over this man.

“Shit.” Soap looked panicked as you glanced over at him, this day wasn’t starting off on the best foot apparently.

“What’s going on?” Price was suddenly on high alert, Soap never panicked unless it was something serious.

“Barnes is on his way here, Spector got word of it a few minutes ago.” Your heart plummeted in your chest, James was on his way here!?

It was a flurry of movement from that moment, Price sending his men into motion to make sure that they were prepared for any kind of confrontation. Had he come here looking for you, to take you back to New York and make sure you could never escape again?

“He’s coming for me.” Your throat felt tight, eyes welling up with tears, you’d been safe for so long.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Price wasn’t angry at you, moreso the situation as a whole.

“James and I were betrothed, I was supposed to marry him when we were twenty-one but he’d gotten someone else pregnant so we couldn’t go through with the marriage. I later found out he was supposed to marry his son's mother until she suddenly vanished.” You felt sick, he’d murdered his own child's mother because he was angry he couldn’t marry you.

“And he’ll stop at nothing if he thinks you’re still unwed, correct?” An idea was forming in his head, it was dicey but surely it could work.

“James Barnes isn’t a man you run from, not without it costing your life.” You wiped the tears away, thankful you’d remembered to put on waterproof mascara.

“Well, your new husband’s standing right here.” Price walked over to Simon, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Both you and Simon were floored, he was surely talking like an absolute lunatic if he thought you’d be able to get away with what he was saying. Neither of you had rings, or even a marriage certificate to prove you were wed. Given how close James probably was it would be nearly impossible to get everything settled.

“Gaz, call Nikolai and have him get the papers ready, we’re going to make sure James does not leave with Y/N.” Gaz nodded and left without another word.

“We need to get to a jeweler, the sooner the better.” Price didn’t wait for you or Simon to soak in the information before taking off.

It took Soap grabbing the both of you for reality to truly hit you, you were going to be “married” to a man you knew absolutely nothing about. You didn’t even know his last name for Christ's sake! James was going to see right through your plan and kill everyone who tried to keep you away from him. Soap threw you into the back of the car, knowing better than to attempt to do the same with Simon lest he get to the jewelers with a black eye. Instead Simon helped you sit up before sliding into the seat beside you.

“Not how I expected my first day to go, sorry you have to be married to me.” You felt bad for Simon, the man probably hadn’t expected this himself and now he had to play pretend.

“Don’t worry about it, why don’t we get the basics out of the way in case James ends up asking, yeah?” It was a good idea, the more you knew about Simon the easier you’d be able to keep up the facade.

You learned about his own childhood, how his father was abusive, attacking him and his mother at every chance he could. He had no living family left, his brother dying of an overdose at the hands of his mother. She’d taken her own life the same night, leaving Simon to find their bodies together. It was only a few months after that he’d met Price and began working for him, taking out his anger on anyone that Price needed taken care of. He’d worn a mask around anyone he knew wouldn’t see the light of day anymore. It was a messy job and he didn’t want word getting out about who he truly was. You also learned that his favorite fruit was pineapple, though he didn’t eat enough and his diet was rather poor.

He’d originally wanted to have a family, before the loss of his brother and mother pushed all thoughts from his mind. He was both a cat and dog lover but never had the time to properly take care of an animal. His favorite color was forest green, though he tended to stick strictly to black whenever he was working he wanted to wear a forest green tux if he ever got married.

“Well, I hope that one day when you actually get married you get to wear that tux.” You smiled at him, resting your cheek against his shoulder gently.

“Thank you.” Simon cleared his throat, trying his best to relax before they reached the jeweler.

Soap was silent behind the wheel, keeping watch for any suspicious vehicles or anyone on the sidewalks that seemed to take a sudden interest in them. In his own words it was better to be paranoid than dead, he’d nearly been killed more times than he could count. Price would always have a target on his back and being paranoid helped keep him alive. Soap pulled down the narrow alley, parking behind the quaint brick building. You were all going to head in through the back, the cameras out front would give away too much if they landed in the wrong hands.

“Alright, we don’t want to spend too much time here, the quicker we can get out the better.” Simon grabbed the door, waiting until everyone was inside before slipping in himself.

The door locked behind everyone, causing you to jump slightly and grab onto Simon’s arm for protection. He didn’t say anything as his arm slid around your waist, pulling you flush to his side. Soap kept a hand on the gun that was tucked into his waistband, leading the way to the backroom where they put together rings.

“Gaz already called, let me see your hands so I can get some picked out in your size.” The woman standing before you was tiny but fierce.

You nervously held out your hand, letting her carefully and meticulously measure your finger before moving on to Simon’s hands. God you couldn’t stop staring at the way she moved his fingers around, the veins on the back of his hands even more prominent. He didn’t bother to put up a fuss, knowing it was better to let her work than to argue.

“Alright, I don’t know how flashy you want the rings to be so I’ll let you take a look at what we have in your size.” She turned around and pulled out two different trays of rings.

It was obvious which ones were meant for Simon and which ones were meant for you if the nearly quarter size diamonds were anything to go by. You didn’t want something too flashy but you needed to make a statement, to prove to James you were off the market. One immediately stood out to you, it was a teardrop shaped diamond sitting on a rose gold band. The actual band was thin and dainty, as if it was gently cupping the diamond.

“Is there a wedding band that goes along with it? Or is it just the ring?” You slid the ring onto your finger, gasping at how well it fit.

“Yes, let me get the band.” She reached down for another tray, each band was different in its own person way.

Some of the bands were thicker, with diamonds wrapping around them entirely, where other bands were simple enough to blend in with whatever ring had been picked out. Your eyes were locked on one of the bands closest to you, the diamonds were shining in the dim light. It would give off just enough sense of pride without looking gaudy.

“This one’s perfect.” You went to slide the wedding band overtop of the diamond ring, gasping as Simon grabbed your hands.

“Allow me, please.” Simon took the ring from your fingers gently, sliding the ring onto your finger slowly. He’d pulled off his balaclava when you entered the building, letting you see the emotions on his face as you made this decision.

You hadn’t noticed when your palms began to sweat, staring between the ring and the man that was sliding it onto your hand. They looked purposeful, as if they’d always meant to be on your finger. You noticed that Simon hadn’t chosen one for himself yet, looking over the tray that was laid out for him. The one closest to your hand seemed perfect, a line of rose gold lined the top and bottom of the ring, leaving the middle a shining silver. You smiled to yourself and plucked the ring off the tray, grabbing onto Simon’s hand gently. He didn’t put up a fuss as you placed the ring at the tip of his finger before sliding it down until it rested at the base.

It felt like no one but the two of you were there at that moment, soaking in the memories as if you truly were getting married that day. Simon cupped your jaw gently, leaning down to press his lips against yours. You slid your hand over his chest, sliding up until you reached his hair, fingers gently tangling into the copper strands. Simon growled against your lips, pulling your body closer as if he could absorb your being into his own.

“Alright children, I think that’s enough for right now.” Price clapped his hands together rather loudly, causing the two of you to pull apart.

“Sorry sir.” Simon couldn’t stop the blush that creeped up his cheeks, hands still gripping onto you.

“I’m not complaining, you two need to be comfortable around one another anyway, but James will be landing in less than an hour, we need to prepare.” Shit, that was really cutting things close.

Simon pulled his balaclava back on, effectively cutting off the world from seeing Simon beneath the mask. Price wrote out a check for the jeweler, promising to come back and visit sooner when he wasn’t under such a time constraint. The woman scoffed at him, slapping his arm playfully before sending you all out of the store. Soap made his way out to the car, checking every nook and cranny to make sure no one had managed to slip a tracking device while you were inside. After giving the thumbs up did you all get into the sleek black car, heading back to Price’s home to go over the new plan.

You and Simon had been married for a little over three months, still settling in and enjoying your lives as newlyweds. You had discussed children and were thinking of starting within the next couple of months. It had to seem like a rock solid story or else James, or Natasha if she joined him, found out the truth and called you out.

“I have some names picked out for future kids if you want to hear them.” It could help if you’d planned on telling James you were “trying” for a baby soon.

“Let’s hear it.” Simon turned to face you, playing with a strand of your hair.

“I like Haley for a girl, Haley Rose, and Casey Samuel for a boy.” They were simple names, but they felt sort of fitting for your imaginary children.

“I like it, we can use those.” Simon wasn’t opposed to the names, they seemed a little more unique.

Soap was happy that Simon was getting to live what was considered a “normal” life even if it wasn’t real. There was nothing wrong with what you were doing, lord knows they’d done weirder if it meant keeping someone safe. Though Price tended to pick up strays and take care of them, Soap had been one of them. He was like the father figure that they hadn’t had, Soap’s father, while he’d been present in most of his life, wasn’t the best. He knew all about Simon’s past, having heard it from the man himself. It had taken over a year for them to get comfortable enough to discuss their pasts.

“Gaz has the paperwork, we’ll have you sign everything when we get back. Make sure to play with your ring now and then, to make it seem more real.” Price had watched the way his mother played with her ring when she got anxious.

“That’s easy, I used to do the same thing with my old necklace.” It was a habit you couldn’t seem to break, and after having to pawn it, well that was a painful reminder.

Simon glanced down at you, watching the way you had done exactly what Price had said, fingers twirling the large diamond absentmindedly. It was pretty cute to see it, you didn’t even seem to notice that you were doing anything. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard for either of you, considering the situation of course.

“We’re here.” Soap pulled into the garage slowly, waiting to see if Gaz would step into the garage with everything.

He breathed a sigh of relief as Gaz walked out with the manilla folder and what looked to be one of Price’s good pens. They were only to ever be used when forging documents pertaining to anything important. And of course what was more important than your marriage certificate? Simon slipped out of the car, holding out a hand down to help you get out of the car, except he didn’t drop your hand before walking over to Gaz. Your fingers were laced together, rings shining in the light as Gaz took you both in slowly.

He’d already known what was going to happen, but to see Simon become so comfortable around you in such a short amount of time. Well it was a little strange to see, but he’d be able to overcome it.

“Sign away your life you two, times a ticking.” It was a playful joke that had you giggling.

Simon rolled his eyes before taking the pen and signing his own name on his side, he held out the pen for you to do the same. You took a slow breath and signed as neatly as you possibly could in the moment. You didn’t want your signature to look rushed, anything messy was usually a dead giveaway at the truth. From the looks of it the papers had already been notarized, no doubt by whoever this Nikolai was.

“Alright, the ink is going to dry and then we’ll wait and see what James has to say before we make any kind of decision, sounds good?” Price turned around to face everyone, waiting until everyone nodded before heading inside himself.

You grabbed onto Simon’s hand once more, a little nervous at the prospect that was going to happen. What if James demanded you meet him the moment he touched down on land, wanting to see who you’d run off to? Simon reached up with his free hand, pulling off the balaclava and fixing his hair as best he could. The last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable when you were alone with him, though when he’d had the mask on before you didn’t so much as blink an eye at him.

“It’ll be alright, I’m sure of it.” Simon squeezed your hand gently, walking you over to a more secluded part of the garage.

“I guess I’m just nervous seeing James again after all this time, it’s been years.” You slid your other hand up to grasp onto his forearm, this man was a wall of solid muscle.

“We’ll be there to protect you, promise.” Simon spun you around so your back was against the wall.

He towered over you, his eyes sparkling with what you could only describe as mischief. How had you never noticed how pretty his eyes were, a mixture of brown and green with flecks of gold. No wonder you’d been so drawn to the rose gold rings, they matched his eyes so perfectly. They were captivating, the middle of a forest on a crisp autumn day, a thick sweater to keep the chill out.

“Now doll, gonna need you to be quiet for me, alright?” Simon’s fingers were running over your naked thighs, slipping beneath the soft fabric of your dress.

“Yes.” Your voice was breathy, chest shuddering as Simon’s hands drifted closer to the heat between your thighs.

Your eyes widened slightly, breath catching in your throat as the tips of his fingers grazed along the fabric of your panties. He chuckled lowly, fingers pressing further into your skin as he snapped the elastic against you. You couldn’t stop the shudder that rippled through your body, goosebumps rising over your skin suddenly.

“You like that, don’t you?” Had his voice gotten even deeper? Jesus you weren’t going to survive this.

“Simon, please.” You squeezed his arm tighter, voice squeaking as his fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric.

“Remember what I said lovie, quiet.” Simon groaned at how wet you were, fingers gliding over your sex.

Your body was on fire, begging for his touch as he seemed to do nothing but tease you, pulling away when your body was singing for him. Your legs were quivering, eyes rolling back as his fingers gently pressed against your clit.

“There she is, being such a good girl for me.” Simon kept his thumb pressed to your clit, drawing slow deliberate circles as his middle and ring finger slid down to your soaked entrance.

You couldn’t stop the loud moan that ripped through your lips as Simon’s fingers slipped inside of your body. He chuckled lowly, pressing a harsh kiss to your lips as he curled his fingers upwards, thumb pressing down harder. If this was how you were going to die you’d accept death happily, Simon was a man with a mission. The gold edge of his ring pressed further into your body as his fingers curled slower, his lips moving in tandem with your own.

Your body was struggling to stay upright with the delicious assault that Simon was inflicting upon you, begging for more while also begging for release. Simon could feel the way you tightened around his fingers, barely able to move properly. His thumb picked up speed ever slightly, bringing your orgasm to a crest. Before you could get the blissful taste of your orgasm Simon crossed the fingers that were inside you before pressing into the spongy spot directly above them. Nothing could stop the scream that burst from your chest, orgasm flooding your body as you soaked Simon’s hand entirely.

Holy shit, had he just made you fucking squirt within two minutes? There was no way in hell you were giving this man up without a fight. You were shaking like a newborn deer, the only reason you hadn’t hit the ground was Simon oh so helpfully keeping you upright. He pressed one final kiss to your cheek, pulling his fingers out slowly so as not to overstimulate you.

“If you let go of me I’m definitely going to hit the ground.” Your eyes locked onto his own, you’d been expecting Simon to look smug considering how powerful your orgasm was.

What you hadn’t expected to see was love.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, won’t let you fall.” Simon smiled to himself, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking your cum off of each digit.

If you hadn’t just had your entire soul ripped from your body mere moments ago you would have slammed Simon to the ground and rode him until the sun set and rose once more. There would be time later, once James was gone you would take advantage of the time you had with him. Simon reached with his other hand to fix your hair, laughing at the glassy look in your eyes. If it wasn’t obvious what had happened, then surely everyone else had managed to hear you.

“I’m gonna get you back for this, mark my words.” You took one step before collapsing into his arms, whimpering at the sensitivity between your legs.

“I don’t doubt that sweetheart, but let me carry you inside first.” Simon scooped you up carefully, heading into the kitchen where everyone was standing.

Soap took one look at you before bursting into laughter, so it was definitely obvious that the two of you had fooled around before coming inside, awesome.

“Now that you two have decided to finally join us, we need to prepare. James has requested that we join them for dinner, specifically the newlyweds.” Price wasn’t happy with the predicament, but he was going to make sure everyone stays safe.

“That gives us a few hours, Simon and I can go over our backstory until then to make sure it’s rock solid.” It wasn’t ideal but given that you were with someone that was giving you mind blowing orgasms? It would have to do.

“You’re going to need something to wear, that goes for you too Simon.” You had plenty in your closet to choose from, but you wanted to match Simon.

Simon nodded at price before carrying you upstairs to your room. The best course of action would be to look through your more formal gowns and find something that matched what he had available. You couldn’t help but laugh as you pulled out a dress you’d fallen in love with yesterday, the color a deep forest green. It would absolutely work for what you had planned, Simon could wear a tie and pocket square to match. He placed you onto the bed gently, taking his place beside you.

You each went over your backstory one more time, waving off different ideas that either seemed too unrealistic or would raise any suspicion. The more simple your lives seemed the better, Simon wouldn’t willingly bring you into this life if he could manage it. You had met by accident, running into him after you’d gotten a coffee. It was love at first sight, you were drawn to each other like a moth to a flame. Simon was more than comfortable touching you and you had welcomed his embraces with open arms.

It was the kisses, they seemed too slow to be realistic. James would know that you hadn’t been kissing Simon for longer than a day if you couldn’t ease into it. So you practiced, going from different angles, to giving a quick peck that most married couples did. While yes, you were madly in love with the man in front of you, you weren’t teenagers. Simon was a mobster whose work involved him killing people, you both needed to remember that.

Before you’d even realized you only had a little over two hours to get ready, you didn’t think as you pulled Simon into the bathroom with you. It would get rid of any nerves either of you had to see one another in the nude. You stripped down entirely before turning on the shower, tying up your hair to prevent it from getting wet you turned to face Simon. He was staring like a man starved, as if he’d spent the last few weeks in the desert and you were a tall glass of water. You couldn’t help the blush that covered your cheeks.

“We don’t have long, so hurry up big boy.” You stepped into the large shower, stepping closer to the showerhead to help wash yourself.

“Yes ma’am.” Simon stripped himself quickly before stepping in behind you.

You looked at him over your shoulder, eyes widening as you took him in slowly. He was sculpted from the gods, there was no other way around it. His arms were even bigger outside of his shirt, his thighs nearly the same size as his biceps. His middle was toned, a light layer of fat to protect the muscle that laid beneath. Your eyes flicked down to his cock, jaw dropping at just how big he was even soft. He’d surely kill you once you finally slept together.

“See something you like?” Simon smirked, sliding his arms around your soft waist.

“If I did, we wouldn't be leaving this shower for a few hours.” Your head slammed back against his chest as his hands cupped your breasts.

“Don’t want our first time together to be cut short, want to make it worth it.” He pinched your nipples gently, reveling in the soft mewl you let out.

“We need to get clean Simon, don’t want to disappoint Price.” While you wanted nothing more than for Simon to bend you over and shove his fat cock inside you, there were more important things on the agenda.

“Let me, please.” Simon reached for the loofah, spreading the soap over before pressing it gently against your skin.

For someone who looked so dangerous the man was so soft and careful with his touch. He was even more careful when washing between your legs, knowing you were sensitive. When he knelt down to wash your legs you ran a hand through his, now wet, hair. He chuckled softly, picking up each leg to wash thoroughly. Your toes curled as he washed the bottom of your feet, trying not to show how ticklish you were. It took him no longer than ten minutes before you were squeaky clean. You grabbed a pump of shampoo before scrubbing his hair clean, tilting his head back to wash the suds away and make sure none got into his eyes.

Cleaning his body was a whole challenge in itself, one that Simon gladly helped you with so that you weren’t struggling to wash his back with how broad he was. The soap scent was mild enough that any cologne he put on would mask it entirely. All you had to worry about was redoing your hair and makeup before getting dressed. Those wouldn’t take long at all, even if the restaurant was more formal you didn’t want to waste too much time away from Simon. You both stepped out of the shower, wrapping towels around your bodies quickly.

“I’m going to get dressed, I’ll be back to help you with your dress after.” Simon pressed a soft kiss to your lips before heading off.

You hadn’t known that Soap and Gaz were in the hallway discussing what to take to dinner when Simon walked out in nothing but the towel, being bombarded by the other two. You’d plopped down in front of the vanity, keeping your hair up since your skin was still wet. Your makeup was quick, eyes a little bit darker and a lipstick that wouldn’t stain Simon’s skin too much. As much as you wanted to leave your mark the last thing you needed was your lipstick sticking around for longer than a night. Once your skin was dry you moisturized every inch, letting the lotion sink in before pulling on a pair of panties. You wouldn’t be able to wear a proper bra with the dress.

You pulled the dress from your closet, laying it over your bed to take in the details once more. It was more fitted, the top would cover your chest almost entirely. The only difference was the dress was entirely backless, leaving your skin on display. Biting your lip gently you waited for Simon to return, tracing your fingers along the fabric slowly. He knocked twice before entering, shutting and locking the door behind himself to make sure no one could interrupt you.

“Look even more gorgeous than I could’ve imagined.” Simon walked over to you, an overcoat draped over his right arm.

“Such a charmer, but thank you.” You lifted the dress off its hanger, slipping your legs in first before sliding it up and over your hips.

Simon pulled the dainty straps over your arms, making sure you were comfortable before fixing the dress that so perfectly cupped your ass. He would’ve given everything to push the dress up and over your hips and just take you right there, but he couldn’t. Instead he pulled your hair down and fixed any messy strands. It didn’t matter if he thought you looked perfect, he was sure you’d wait to make sure everything was in order before leaving.

“C’mon you two lovebirds! Price is waiting in the car for us.” Soap had interrupted your peaceful moment, but you knew better.

It was now or never, and you were going to confront someone from your past that had nearly ruined your life. You grabbed Simon’s hand and headed down to the garage to meet up with Price and everyone else. You were a little shocked to see a limousine, they were definitely going all out for tonight. Simon opened the door, helping you inside before getting in himself. Price, Gaz, and Soap were all waiting for you to arrive. Price simply knocked on the partition, letting the driver know they were ready to leave.

“So, we gonna talk about how you shagged in the garage earlier.” You wanted to slap the smug smirk right off of Soap’s face. How dare!

“Don’t start something you can’t handle boy.” Simon tugged you closer to his side, glaring down at the other man.

“We heard ya! It was pretty obvious what you were doing.” Soap had to have been a masochist, no one taunted a man like Simon for fun.

“Maybe you’re just jealous since you can’t get anyone.” Everyone, excluding Soap, burst into laughter at Simon’s statement.

The ambience changing to something lighter helped ease your nerves ever so slightly, you felt more comfortable around everyone. It didn’t matter that you were heading to see James, or that you were almost positive that Natasha would be there as well. All that mattered right now was being around the people you’d felt safe with. Things were going great, and you weren’t going to ruin that by worrying. The driver pulled up outside of the restaurant, turning the engine off and rushing around to open the door for you and Simon first.

You wrapped your arm around one of Simon’s resting your hand overtop of his wrist to ensure he would stay close by. Price was the last person to exit, fixing his suit jacket and turning to face you, Simon, and Soap. Gaz had already headed inside to speak with the hostess and make sure that James had arrived. If he hadn’t arrived by then, you would be seated and would have to wait for him.

“He’s not here yet boss, they have your table secured for when you’re ready.” Of course James hadn’t arrived yet, he always needed to be fashionably late.

“Let’s go, if anything we can enjoy a nice night out if he doesn’t show.” Price headed into the restaurant, gesturing to everyone else to the hostess.

Normally Price didn’t like having meetings in restaurants he frequented, especially if it was someone from out of the country. They could never be trusted, not when it came to something he enjoyed from time to time. The waiter had come over to get your drink orders, Price informing them there were more people arriving but that he’d gladly take a bourbon. You ordered a simple drink for yourself along with a glass of water. Being sober would work best if you were going to confront James tonight. The waiter had dropped off the drinks when a booming voice seemed to echo inside of the restaurant.

“Ah, there she is, congratulations on the wedding by the way. Though I must say I’m very upset that I hadn't been invited.” James plopped down in the chair opposite from you, glancing over at Simon with a scowl.

“Sorry, it was a very small ceremony, we didn’t want to make a big deal out of the situation.” You reached for your glass, diamond shining in the otherwise dim lighting.

James’ jaw tightened ever so slightly when he caught sight of your ring, it was another reminder that you weren’t his. Your husband, if he could even call him that, was staring him down, as if waiting for him to make a comment. Natasha was sitting beside James, though she hadn’t uttered a single word. She looked exactly like you remembered, save for a couple wrinkles at the corner of her eyes. You were sure those were due to the stress of dealing with James and having to help raise his son since Dorothy, JJ’s mother, had vanished.

“How about a toast for the happy couple, to a long and happy marriage.” James smirked at you, holding his glass up high in the air.

“Cheers.” The table was quiet as everyone took a sip of their drink.

Except for you, you watched as James knocked back the rest of his vodka, placing the empty glass onto the table before him. He was devising a plan, for what you weren’t entirely sure, but James Barnes could not be trusted at all.

“So, what brings you across the pond?” Price was worried his informant was dead, given that James was sitting across from him at the moment.

“Got word that my favorite girl had made her way over here and wanted to pay a visit, come to find out she’s made herself quite comfortable with one of your men.” James’ gaze landed back on Simon, taking the man in fully for the first time.

He wasn’t sure what you say in him, he wasn’t much of a looker from what he could see with the dim lighting. Maybe it wasn’t even his looks, maybe you’d picked him out of the group because he was the best in bed.

“She’s been a big help lately, deals with all my finances when I’m busy working on other important things.” It was partially true, you were hired to work on the finance part of Price’s job.

“Mmm, how fitting, she used to do the same for me before she ended up leaving. Glad to know she’s serving her purpose.” James couldn’t keep the bite out of his tone, how could you betray him?!

“Simon and I have actually discussed having children, I’d be able to keep working during the pregnancy but we want to wait till after our first year of marriage.” You rested your cheek against Simon’s arm, smiling at the dopey grin on his face.

Natasha reached for James’ hand beneath the table, the last thing she needed was for him to cause a scene when this wasn’t their territory. He huffed quietly, plopping back into the seat and ignoring the way you glanced towards him. They needed to get out of the restaurant and get back to the states to make a plan, this wasn’t working according to plan.

“If you will excuse me, we’re quite jet lagged from the flight over. Hopefully we can do this again some other time.” James didn’t wait for Natasha to follow him before he was out of his chair.

You waited with baited breath, watching the way James stopped just outside of the restaurant to start screaming at the red head. You’d felt bad for her at the moment, James could turn into an overgrown child when he didn’t get his way. However you remembered exactly why they were there and changed your mind. Natasha didn’t care about your happiness, not if it meant keeping James happy in the long run.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steven grant #tony stark #marc spector

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megs-mostly-past-random-fandoms · 2 years

Text

Tutoring for Politics

Based on this request: Hi! Happy birthday! Could I get a Thomas Jefferson(Hamilton) x reader? A modern/highschool!au where the reader is Jefferson’s tutor because his grades are slipping and he needs them to stay on some kind of team/in a club(maybe student

Here you are! (I did change my original title idea as it didn’t really work). *Familiar characters are NEVER mine!*

Fandom: Hamilton: An American Musical

Warnings: Modern/Highschool AU, a little angsty-ish?? Alexander being Alexander. A little fluff

Pairings/Characters: Thomas Jefferson x reader (could be either romantic/platonic), Alexander Hamilton, George Washington.

You could feel the frown making its way to your face before you had even fully registered what you'd been asked to do. You weren't exactly the biggest fan of Thomas Jefferson. You wouldn't say you hated him, you just didn't care for him. You ran in different circles. He was on the football team, student government, and the debate team. He was also pretty smart. So were you, but you were far less social and you thought that he looked down on you (or people like you) for that. So why did he need a tutor?

"Mr. Washington…I really don't think I have the time to tutor Jefferson," you tried to tell him softly, but he leveled the "disappointed dad" look at you. Thomas was standing next to him trying to appear aloof but looking at you with interest. You hated the look Washington was giving you, so you sighed and nodded. "Alright," you relented, "Meet me in the library after school." You didn't give him a chance to respond as you darted out as quickly as you could.

You were surprised to find Thomas already waiting for you when you entered the library. You'd half expected him to bail or, at the very least, be late. Not that he wasn't a good student! He was. He also had a packed social life that seemed to be his priority.

"Hey there, Darlin'," he greeted with a charming smile. You rolled your eyes, but sat down anyway. "What is it exactly that you need help with?" you asked, cutting right to the chase. You didn't have time to waste with small talk. You had your own work to get done and you were certain Thomas had some club/social activity to get to. However, instead of giving you an answer, the athlete merely shrugged.

"Jefferson, if you can't tell me what you need, then I can't help you," you told him. You were already exhausted and you hadn't even been there for five minutes. "That's just it, Darlin'. I know the material. I do. But it just doesn't…stick." You ran your hand over your face. "Alright, show me what you mean."

As it turned out, Thomas was right. He really did know the material when he was asked or when it was in front of him. He could spout off facts likes no one's business. He would honestly make a good historian if he chose to go that route. The problem came when it was time for him to sit quietly to take tests. Then, his mind went in all sorts of directions. Football, school, student government. His mind simply would not stop. You knew you had to find a way to help him focus better.

*time skip*

Experimenting with Thomas' learning style was actually rather fun. Thomas was fun. You could see why people flocked to him. He was so charming he could sell oranges to a lemonade stand. That didn't help him take tests though. So you went through every learning and test taking style you could think of. You spent time in the library almost every afternoon since Thomas wasn't allowed to participate in his extracurriculars until he got his grades up.

He wasn't kicked out of anything yet, but he had to work. After the first few days, you didn't mind working with him. It was great seeing his confidence grow when it came to taking tests. However, there was one little problem. A problem by the name of Alexander Hamilton.

Any time either of you were around Alexander, he felt the need to voice his thoughts about Thomas' predicament. While the two young men were similar in many ways, Alexander had a mean streak a mile wide when he came to anyone that could even potentially be better than he was. And Thomas fit that bill to a T which made him the brunt of Alexander's insults. That only ramped up when it was discovered that Thomas was in tutoring. It went on for weeks until you finally had enough.

Thomas had come to you as you were leaving your class with a bright grin on his face. Before you could ask what was happening, Thomas practically shoved a piece of paper at you. You laughed a little before glancing down. "A 90%?! Thomas, that's great!" It was the highest grade he'd earned on a test since your tutoring began.

"Finally. I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever rise through the ranks from stupid politician," Alexander's voice cut through your happy bubble. Thomas frowned and you rounded on Alexander. You balled your fists at your sides, Thomas' test still in your hand, as rage began bubbling in you. Alexander just kept going despite the clear anger and frustration on your face. To his credit, Thomas stayed silent even though he was angry and a bit embarrassed.

"Hamilton?" you finally spoke up when it was clear he wasn't going to quit. He closed his mouth and smile at you. "Yes?"

"Shut up." He blinked in surprise. You were typically pretty quiet and kind. It was why Washington had chosen you to ask to tutor Thomas. "What?" You repeated your demand. "Shut up. So what if Thomas struggled? A lot of people do. The difference is that Thomas got help to try and better himself because, unlike you, he knows that no one is perfect and that in order to keep doing what he loves, he needed to have help. This is why people prefer him to you. That's why Thomas has friends and people that look up to him. He is a real person and doesn't act like a wanna be 'king' with a stick up his ass." You didn't give him a chance to reply. Instead, you walked off with Thomas' test still in your hand. You missed Thomas' gaze following after you.

Thomas was completely confused. No one really stood up for him like that. It wasn't that they didn't like him. At least he didn't think so. He knew people looked up to him, like you'd said. Maybe they just weren't sure if he needed defending. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter now. Now he needed to follow after you and calm you.

Given the time of day it was, Thomas knew where you'd be. He didn't say anything to Alexander. He pushed passed his "nemesis" and nearly ran to you. "Y/N!" he called when he saw you about to enter a classroom. You paused and glanced at him. He saw the angry tears running down your face. By now he understood that sometimes you cried when you were overly frustrated.

"Oh, Darlin'. You okay?" You nodded and handed him his now crumpled test. "Sorry," you told him through a sniffle. He laughed lightly. "It's alright." The air between you grew silent for a minute. The bell was about to ring and Thomas knew he needed to say something. So he said the first thing he could think of. "Thank you." Your brows furrowed and he continued, "You stood up for me. I can normally handle Hamilton, but it was nice not to have to." You smiled a bit. "No problem. He pisses me off. Anyway…I should get to class."

"Or…you could play hooky, just this once. I can take you out for a late lunch?" You let out a little laugh. "Considering it was Washington who asked me to tutor you, I don't think he'd appreciate it if I skipped his class." Thomas shrugged a bit, but he was a little disappointed. "But…maybe I could skip my study hall tomorrow morning and we can get coffee?" Thomas beamed and nodded, his curls lightly smacking his cheeks. He opened his arms, silently asking for a hug. You instantly entered his embrace.

(a/n: I hope you like it! Tag lists for everything are OPEN!)

#hamilton: an american musical #thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson x reader #jefferson x reader #modern au #high school au

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uselessgayshit · 2 years

Text

Imogen came back to the room alone and Laudna didn’t return. The red light of Ruidis came through the round glass window, painting her skin a light pink. Her cheeks were wet, streaked with tears. She paid him no mind - even though she had to have heard his thoughts not his dreams - and climbed into bed, absently pulling the covers to her chin. She looked so small. He had never seen her curled up by herself; she was always curled into Laudna’s long, lanky body.

He waited for some time but the door never opened again. He glanced to the bed. Imogen was too still to have fallen asleep.

Orym pushed himself off the ground, doing his best to move the faun leg that he was trapped under without waking Fearne. He pulled the door open and padded silently down the hall, finding the stairs that led to the deck. The wind was soft against his face, a little chilly so high up. A low cloud whisked wet across the edge of the skyship. The deck was empty. He glanced up to the wheel and saw a spectral green hand gently guiding it.

At the bow was a lone figure. Long, greasy hair hanging down her back. Shoulders hunched forward, spindly fingers curved over the edge, gripping tightly. Her body was wracked by silent sobs.

He stood in a state of indecision. His fingers rubbed at the moons on his bicep. And then he turned around and returned to the room.

She was almost like a child the way her eyes constantly followed Imogen and how her fingers twitched to reach out for her. But not once over the next couple of days did she. She was listless, her usual brand of weird replaced by a painful longing that caused Orym’s heart to ache. Pate hung forgotten by her side. Sashimi with her new hair left to her own devices. He briefly wondered how they occupied their time before shaking the thought from his head. They’re puppets, Orym. They don’t talk to each other.

And he watched Imogen consciously choose to let her eyes drift past the the dead girl. He watched her cross to the opposite side of the deck. He watched her isolate herself from the only person she ever fully let in.

So when they all sat down together on their last night on the skyship to regroup and make a tentative plan, Orym couldn’t bare it any longer. They may have only sat ten feet from each other, but they were worlds away. Imogen staring at the floor and Laudna staring at Imogen like she had died once again.

A gentle rage began to boil in him as he watched these two people who so ardently loved each other choose distance and silence. Will had been ripped from him before they had had enough time, violently and suddenly. Dorian had chosen to leave, however reluctantly, for his family and there was nothing Orym would have ever done to stop him but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

He couldn’t watch them choose their own destruction.

“Excuse me, Laudna, you seem… a little off. More than usual.”

The room went silent and he was suddenly aware that he had interrupted a conversation he had stopped listening to many minutes before.

“Oh,” she perked up, eyes going comically wide, “oh, well… it’s nothing.”

Imogen’s hands wrung together, twisting and pulling.

“I would beg to differ.”

It often happened like this with Laudna: if you gave her enough space to think and speak, she would without encouragement.

She smiled sideways and sadly. “I don’t really think it’s my place to say.”

“If there’s something bothering you, I’d like to hear it.”

Her eyes darted frantically to Imogen as if the woman across the room would save her. When Imogen remained silent, Laudna’s long spindly fingers smoothed the creases of her skirt. “I broke… um… I sort of… “

A clanking across the wooden planks of the ship drew Orym’s attention. He watched as a familiar yet different crystal dropped out of Imogen’s hand and rolled across the floor.

“She ruined it.”

There was no longer a glowing, garish light emanating from the rock. It lay lifeless, devoid of magic, on the ground.

Orym’s brow furrowed. He felt safe with this group much quicker than he often did, but they were still figuring each other out. Ashton’s morals were grey but specific. Chetney had an aggressive streak that he wasn’t yet acknowledging. But the one thing that Orym knew in his bones, was that Laudna would do anything for Imogen. This wasn’t adding up.

“What does that mean?”

“I ruined it.” Laudna said, following Imogen’s lead with a whisper.

“I’m missing something here. Can you start from the beginning?”

“You know, D? The voice in my head?” Her eyes rolled wide and her head cocked to the side as she spoke, her usual way of downplaying something horrific.

And then she explained. About Delilah taking over her faculties. About the fear. About how for a split second she felt a heart beat in her chest.

Imogen’s eyes flashed white as she looked to Laudna. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Laudna stumbled in her storytelling, caught off guard by the interruption. “Well, you were… well, quite distraught.”

A heartbeat. Maybe not such a dead girl. Maybe the hint of Imogen’s love coming back to life.

“I don’t know what happened.” Laudna had gone introspective, as if taking herself into the memory. “She wouldn’t explain. She said, ‘I’ve taken care of it.’”

Coming back to the room, her tear-filled eyes found Orym’s. “I don’t know what that means.”

He smiled wistfully. “Laudna, it doesn’t sound like you did anything. You have…”

It was hard to quantify exactly what Delilah Briarwood was at this point. An uncontrollable evil sounded about right.

“This being that exists within you somewhere - well you would know best the horrors she is willing to commit. She did this. Not you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Imogen’s jaw clench. She was smarter than this. She knew Laudna would never betray her, but she needed something tangible to blame. Orym harbored enough of his own blame to understand how relieving it must be to push it off on someone else. How painful it must be to give it to someone you loved. Imogen had pierced her own heart.

“None of this was your fault.”

Orym looked at Laudna and came to the conclusion that he might be looking at the strongest person he would ever know. Her endless bravery and optimism was something he idolized, but it wasn’t unwavering. Delilah seemed to have mostly left her alone, coming out of the abyss when called upon, but otherwise, leaving Laudna to her second chance at life. But, she had only been biding her time, and like the past had proven many times before, when she chose to strike, she was ruination.

Laudna’s voice wavered, croaking as she tried to hold back the desperation. Her lips pulled back from her teeth as if she was attempting to smile but no longer had the wherewithal. “I have to fix it. I have to fix it for Imogen.”

He was trying to focus on the here and now, but his mind kept drifting to Whitestone. They had to contact Lady Vex’halia again. They had to warn them.

“Orym.” His name brought him back. “How do I fix it?”

He reached out, placing his hand on her knee. “We will fix it.”

He looked around at the group. “All of us.”

He looked to Imogen, intending to impose the last word on her but he didn’t seem to need to. Her eyes were fixed on Laudna, a tear rolling down her cheek, and she finished it for him. “Together.”

#my fic #imodna #critical role #imogen x laudna #cr #critical role fanfic #orym #imogen temult #laudna

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allywritesforfun · 3 years

Note

Hiya i was wondering if I could make a request? I was thinking the reader riding the subway with wilbur and it's PACKED so they're in a corner talking and giggling in hushed tones while wilbur as his arm around the reader holding her

Thank you so much! You're stories are amazing

oh im sorry I wasn't ready for ONE OF THE BEST REQUESTS I am so excited to write this /pos

thank you so much for requesting and the kind words! ily <3

{Subway Smoothness} Wilbur Soot x Fem!Reader

pronouns: she/her

word count: 1720

trigger warning: tight spaces?

a/n: making this friends to lovers typa thing

regular masterlist

wilbur masterlist

taglist

anon list

You sat on Wilbur's sofa on the opposite end of where he was. This was your thing together. Every week, you two would pick a day and hang out all day or at least for the majority, rotating what house you stayed at.

This was Wilbur's week. Honestly, you preferred going over to Wilbur's rather than him coming to your place; you always had a mess to clean up and Wilbur had a lot more to do than you did.

Your house was nice if you just wanted to talk, but Wilbur had a bunch of games and other sources of entertainment. However, today ended up being the ‘let's enjoy each other's company’ type of day.

You both sat quietly on your end of the sofa, the only noise coming from your tiktok fyp and Wilbur's audio clips from the music he was working on. You sent him funny tiktoks every once and a while and you might hold a quick minute or so conversation, but nothing too in depth.

After an hour of not interacting that much, you get fed up. That was a nice break and all, but Wilbur was your best friend and you only got to see him once a week.

You broke the silence, "I wanna go somewhere. Like ice cream somewhere."

"Alright," Wilbur replied. "You wanna go to a parlor or get something from the store?"

"Of course I wanna go out to a parlor!" You replied. "They have the best ice cream!"

"Alright lemme grab my car keys and-"

You cut him off, "Let's take the subway. We always take your car and it's time for a change."

He shrugged, standing up, "Well then, I guess I'll go get my wallet and stuff."

You had to of picked the worst time to get ice cream. How could you miss the fact that it was a little after 5pm and everyone was getting out of work? You and Wilbur both decided to wear masks despite being fully vaccinated; it was just so crowded. It took at least ten minutes just to get near the doors.

The doors opened up and Wilbur cut in front of you. Not in a rude way, but in a ‘I'm tall and people let me through’ way. You grabbed onto the back of his shirt and let him lead you in. He stopped near the back center and grabbed onto the overhead rail.

He looked down at you, pushing his elbow out, "Just hang onto my arm, that way you don't go flying."

"Good thinking," You replied. You hung onto his arm with one hand. You didn't want it to look so romantic and like you two were a couple, even if that was how you wished it would be.

Out of nowhere, there was a rush of people, all seeming to belong to some charity group. They all pushed their way in, a lady approached Wilbur.

"Is there a way that you and your girlfriend could move to the back? We got some kiddos in our group and we need to make sure they're all with an adult. You two look really nice and I hoped that you would understand."

"Oh I'm not-"

Wilbur cut you off and took a step back, "Oh yeah of course! No worries!"

He continued to step back with every child-adult pair that came through, which was way too many. They should've waited for the next train, but they were already here and made all this effort. You and Wilbur ended up in the corner. Literally in the corner. If this was Minecraft, you would be glitching through. You tried to stand your ground and stay a couple inches away from Wilbur, but it just wasn't possible. You saw even more people trying to squeeze in and the whole group was getting pushed back further and further.

You looked behind you and up at Wilbur, "There's so many people! I don't think they can all fit!"

He laughed, "Oh they'll fit alright. C'mere y/n." He tugged at your shoulder, pulling you into his chest with your back leaning against him, "They're gonna need more space than we do, especially with children."

It took you a second to respond. You could see the light red rue in your cheeks from your reflection in the adjacent window. Wilbur was right though, it would be more problematic to a child to be pushed up against an adult than you pushed up against Wilbur.

"Yeah..." You struggled to find words. "Makes sense. I just don't get why they didn't wait for the next train."

"I couldn't tell you," You felt Wilbur start to run his hand up your side. "I just need to quick grab onto something before the train moves."

His hand stopped touching you the second he found space to slide it out and over your head. "What about-" You were gonna ask Wilbur what you should hang onto, but the train answered for you.

It suddenly jolted forward. You took a small step forward with the little room you had, but it was Wilbur slyly catching you with his free arm and pulling you back to him that saved you from falling onto other people.

You both laughed, "I got you." He assured. "This was such a great idea of yours."

You shuffled in your spot in a bad attempt to lightly whack him into some sense, "Well I didn't think Miss. Frizzle would bring a whole class on here now did I?"

You both bursted out laughing, causing other people to look over and stare, "Shhhh, shhhh." You whispered to him, trying to catch your breath.

"Awe," The lady from earlier commented. "You two are so cute. I miss young love. How long have you been together?"

"We're not-" Wilbur pinched you to get you to stop talking.

"High school sweethearts!" He proudly replied, his head held high.

"Wow!" She replied. "That doesn't happen often! What's the secret?"

You went to pull your hands up to make some sort of ‘we're not together’ gesture, but Wilbur was quick to notice and grabbed your hands and pulled them down, interlocking your fingers together.

"There's no secret when you've found the one that makes you a better person. I knew from early on by the way she treated me that I couldn't lose her. I snatched her up real fast didn't I, Love?" He leaned down close to your ear, "Play along."

You shook your head, "Quite literally. Right off my feet at Junior Prom. Such a smooth boy he was. Swept me right off my feet and still does today."

The lady held her hand to her heart, "Ugh, so cute. I can tell by the way you two look at each other how madly in love you two are." She glanced down at your hands, "Where's the ring?"

"T-The ring?" You stuttered out.

"The engagement ring!" She clarified. "Don't tell me you've two been together for years and talk this way about each other and aren't gonna get married! You gotta get on that young man!"

Wilbur took his hand off the rail and scratched the back of head, "I do, don't I?"

The train came to a halt. You looked up and saw the exit you wanted to get off on, "Oh, Babe! This is our stop." You semi-forcefully wiggled yourself out of his grip.

"It was nice meeting you two!" The lady called.

"You too!" Wilbur replied, trying to catch your hand from you.

The second you both were a good distance away from the subway and out of people's way, you turned around. You waited for Wilbur to catch up, and when he did, you shoved him back. "Wilbur Soot!" You yelled at him.

"What!" He asked. "This is unnecessary aggression!"

"Why didn't you tell that lady we're just friends!" You asked.

Wilbur stepped closer to you, "How were you gonna explain to her that we interact the way we do and we're 'just friends'? Don't tell me you would rather have the 'you two should get together' speech!"

You stopped, "Are you implying that we're more than friends?"

Wilbur gently took your hand, "Well-I-sorry. That came out wrong. I meant-well-erm..." He deeply sighed, "She wasn't wrong y'know. When she was talking about the way I look at you. My friend's been calling me out for it for the past year now. I'm sorry y/n, I should've let you interject when you wanted to. That wasn't fair of me. I just got excited that we could play-pretend for a second."

"Don't be sorry," You walked into his chest and basically forced him to hug you. You could tell that he was regretful from how tense he was. You rubbed his back up and down in an attempt to get him to relax. There was no reason at all for him to be tense or sorry. "It was fun! And I must admit-" You backed up for a second to lock eyes with him, your heart skipped a beat. "When I called you 'Babe'-I didn't plan that. It kinda just happened. It was natural to me and it felt..."

"Right," Wilbur finished your sentence. "I think I know how you feel... When that lady was calling us a couple, telling us about how cute we are together, it felt right. It made sense."

You nodded, "It did. I really liked the sound of it..."

"I really loved holding you!" Wilbur blurted out seemingly by accident. "I mean-it was nice! I've always wanted to give you more affection than just 'hello' and 'goodbye' hugs."

"Just get to the point, Wil," You whispered.

"The point?” He repeated. “The point is that I should’ve asked you out earlier. I’m too late ain’t I?”

“Too late?” You asked. “Wilbur, the only thing I look forward to is seeing you! I text you more than I text my mother! Everything I do subconsciously revolves around you! There is no such thing as too late with me.”

Wilbur smiled at you. You giggled at his flustered look. Neither of you expected to have this conversation today, or ever. All because of this lady on a subway. Crazy world it is.

“We should get going on our ice cream date, yeah?” He asked.

You nodded and took his hand, “We should.”

taglist: @neptunebabes @boiled-onionrings @wistahood @anarchyanon

#wilbur #wilbur x reader #Wilbur soot #Wilbur soot x reader #mcyt #mcyt x reader #x reader #wilbur imagine #wilbur soot imagine #mcyt imagine #wilbur oneshot #wilbur soot oneshot #mcyt onehsot #wilbur fanfic #wilbur soot fanfic #wilbur x fem!reader #wilbur soot x fem!reader #mcyt x fem!reader #cw caps

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chocosvt · 3 years

Text

love café

⚬ pairing: jeonghan x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 17.6K ⚬ warnings: some vulgar language, i guess! ⚬ genres: big time nsfw, dirty talk, lap dances, quickies, bath shenanigans, exhibitionism, overstim - you get what i mean. big ole romance, angst, fluff, jeonghan is very rich and very hot, joshua has a not so subtle crush on you.

✧✎ synopsis: while you’ve spent the last few months pretending the love café doesn’t exist, you realize you need its services now more than ever. this brings you face to face with jeonghan, the son of a luxury fashion designer who’s got money to burn. your exchanges are strictly business. until they’re not.

✧✎ a/n: YES, ANOTHER REWRITE. the original love café was just so unsalvageable that i almost fully wiped its plot, minus the actual concept of the café. so, this should read as fairly new! I HOPE U ENJOY IT !!

It’s not that you were desperate. Because you weren’t.

You were actually more than desperate at this point, and no longer could you sit on that uneven couch with the broken leg, staring at the chipped paint, listening to your neighbours’ screams, believing you should continue like this. More than anything, you were shortchanging yourself. There was no point in holding onto that little string of hope in which those employers might phone you back. It would be impossible to contact your family when you had affirmatively cut ties with them ages ago. And, it was becoming increasingly foolish to ignore your one saving grace, just a street over from your rundown complex.

But, could you really commit to it? Would anyone even be able to look at you and think you were someone desirable enough to reward?

Those thoughts often hung over you like a dark cloud, and poured down so heavily that you were metaphorically drenched, in your own pessimism. However, on that day, you were beyond patience with the cards you’d been dealt. Such a despairing apartment, with all its bugs and drafts and horrible neighbours, could not be your brightest and most fortunate future. There had to be something you could do.

Even if it meant going to the Love Café.

In other words, an easy gig to financial heaven, in exchange for sexual pleasures of course. You walked into your bedroom and sat down in front of the wooden vanity, clicking on a dim, flickering bulb to help illuminate your face as well as its lifeless expression which stared back at you. It didn’t take more than ten minutes to pat your skin with some emptying makeup and thinning pans of eyeshadow. Then, you fixed up your hair and chose a simple, mute-coloured dress from your closet, immediately swallowed by the large winter coat you cozied into.

You hurried quickly down the corridor, ignoring the muffled shouts from your argumentative neighbours bleeding through the nickel-thin walls, past the barking dog which jumped against the door, scratching its nails whenever you waited for the elevator, and you didn’t even spare one glance at the very strange man who always hovered in the central lobby and watched you ignore his coos every single day. By the time you arrived outside the Love Café, you were breathing like a marathon runner. Despite the cold weather, you felt a sweat run like a breeze down your temple as you wiped your face before heading inside.

The space felt warm. Everything was red, pink, or white. And when you inhaled, the air smelled like a note of rose petals and candy. It was surprisingly easy to sign up for a ‘Love Card’ at the front desk.

“This card has twelve punches per service with your partner. If, by the end of the twelfth punch, you’re not looking to pursue something serious with this individual, you can pay for another Love Card. If you do manage to find, ‘the one’, then congratulations, and well wishes. Since you’re a first-time client, you get twenty-five percent off your first card.”

Whoever the lady was, she seemed less than enthusiastic as she pushed a cherry-red paper across the counter with a finely manicured nail. You thought she must have given this spiel so many times, the script probably haunted her in her sleep. Nonetheless, you thanked her, and heeded her direction when she advised you to choose any of the free tables, marked with a pale rose. For some reason, you picked the very last table amongst the row and slid yourself onto the uncomfortable, white chair, the metal back moulded into the shape of a heart.

Whoever reserved the table wasn’t exactly punctual. About half an hour after being seated, ordering yourself a tea, and examining the different clients who filtered in and out the café, you were beginning to assume the worst. That they cancelled. Flaked. Decided to pull from the service and direct their affluence elsewhere. As you titled the last few droplets of tea around the base of the cup, feeling utterly depressed and bored, you heard the little bells clink above the door, followed by a gasp from the employee at the front desk. Considering her microscopic range of emotion, you figured whoever entered must be some flawless rarity.

“Jeonghan!” She fixed her slouched position. “I wasn’t aware you made a reservation today. I haven’t seen your name in the system.”

“No worries. I set an anonymous appointment the night before. After all the chaos I caused last time, I figured it’s best to stay under the radar. I know I’m late. I was finishing up a term paper.”

“That’s quite all right. Here, I’ll just quickly renew your information. One moment… Okay, Yoon Jeonghan, you’re all set.”

At that, your eyes practically bulged right into the teacup. You’d heard his name in some conversations with a few university friends, before you had dropped your program. His father was an inventive in the fashion industry for nearly a decade, and his brand was considered high-end luxury, with people forking up the big bucks just to wear a piece from the collection. His mother recently begun a perfume company. In fact, you had a bottle from her Sunrise series sitting on your vanity, though you used each spritz very sparingly considering its outrageous price point. According to the most recent gossip, Jeonghan had ended his relationship with a model who’d been strutting his father’s cloths.

You couldn’t believe he was here.

No – even worse, you couldn’t believe he was making his way toward your table. It had to be some sort of mistake. How could it be that you chose to sit here? Was the universe attempting another cruel joke?

His visual seemed even more daunting outside his photographs in the magazines. Beyond a glossy page, he was softer. Thick hair, shiny and dark brown, which swooped beneath his ears and parted smoothly at the forehead. His lips were the same shade as the windowsill roses, as well as the high arches in his cheeks. But then, he was sharper too, with a trim, angular jaw and such a defined yet judgemental brow. You had expected anyone else but him. And now, this esteemed, much too beautiful man had come to the very last table, wearing an expression of waning curiosity. Or, as you interpreted it, clear-glass disappointment.

Before Jeonghan seated himself, he untucked his phone from his coat pocket and clicked a side button to check the time. He then sniffled, looked straight at the wall, and sighed. Despite your now devoted wish to disappear, you attempted to begin a conversation that wouldn’t backfire.

“Yoon Jeonghan. I’ve heard the name. It’s nice to meet you.”

He settled one arm on the table, tapping his fingernails.

“Yeah. I’m guessing you’re not a regular here—” he then peered over at your bright red Love Card placed by the teacup to say your name.

Bouncing your leg underneath the table, you nodded. “No, not really. I’ve been debating for a while if this was a choice I should make, but I can’t seem to have ends meet doing anything else. So, I came here.”

Already, Jeonghan looked painfully bored. He stopped tapping his fingers and leaned his chin against the hand instead. You knew it was the insecurity barking. Unnecessarily, you apologized to him.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m probably not the woman you’re expecting and I get that. I wouldn’t be all that offended if you wanted to save the Love Card for someone else or—”

Out of the blue, Jeonghan laughed, though he attempted to mute the sound by digging the bend of his index finger between his teeth. Your sentence trailed off with an awkward, dying breath. He suddenly leaned back in his metal seat, shaking his head apologetically and pulling back some of the soft hairs from his eyes. You felt utterly confused.

“Sorry, sorry,” he smiled, “didn’t mean to discourage you there, sweetheart. I’ve just never had someone apologize for—well, their looks.”

“I-I don’t know,” you lunged for damage control, “I just thought you seemed disappointed and I… Well, I haven’t done this before, so I don’t really know all that well how it works. I… I should stop talking…”

It felt as though someone had swatted both your cheeks in an iron-slap, because the skin was stinging hot like never before. You knew he was staring at you, probably thinking to himself that you were a train wreck waiting to happen. Afterward, an employee visited the table to collect your emptied teacup, and asked Jeonghan if he’d like anything to drink. Refusing to look elsewhere but the clenched fists in your lap, you waited for the employee to leave once Jeonghan rejected the offer. He’d pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. Uncapping the pen with his teeth, you watched him sloppily scribble something down.

“My number.” He said, sliding it across the table. “Listen, I’ve gotta go home and proofread that term paper before I submit it. Just send me a text, okay? I won’t be free for a few days, anyways.”

“Oh, okay.” You sniffled.

Quite frankly, you couldn’t comprehend that he was still interested in pursuing something venereal, even when you had embarrassed yourself like a circus act. He rose quickly from the table and wrapped the waistband of his coat tight around his small waist.

Staring down at the paper, you blurted out, “are you sure?”

Jeonghan titled his head. “Am I sure of what?”

“Never mind.” You answered. “I’ll text you later.”

“Okay.” He nodded, on the verge of walking away when he abruptly stopped himself. “Are you always this nervous?”

Caught off guard by his question, your elbow whacked the edge of the table and you meekly stuttered, “I-I don’t know…”

You were more than positive he was going to ghost all your texts.

To a degree, you were correct.

Over the course of the following week, you sent Jeonghan at least three texts, each on separate days, only to be rewarded with a demotivating lack of responses. You knew he was a busy individual who probably didn’t have much time to waste on promiscuous affairs, let alone a committed relationship. So, you tried very earnestly to not feel upset or unimportant at his methods – even despite the series of required payments glaring you down from those white envelopes scattered atop the kitchen table.

And then, during the black, late hours of a snowy Friday, you received a reply. A surprisingly urgent one which detailed that you make it to the downtown Opal Studio before eleven o’clock, as there would be a backdoor entrance left unlocked for your access. He mentioned a storage closet underneath a staircase, worded very sternly as: … Wait inside, and do not make yourself known. I’ll see you there shortly, and ensure you leave without being spotted. Uncertain of what the situation would entail, you phoned a cab and payed the driver using some remaining funds from a paper note purse. The studio’s front was a smooth, velvet black, with a wide window which illuminated several mannequins wearing Mr. Yoon’s newest issue. Each outfit cost a pretty penny.

Like you anticipated, Jeonghan was late to meet you in the storage closet; however, you were at no point going to scold his blatant disregard for scheduling when he’d pressed you tight against the door looking the way he did. Buttons popped down the chest of his unwrinkled dress shirt, sleeves cuffed to his elbows, and his neat, styled hair beginning to dishevel around those intense eyes. He braced his hand beside your head, studying your lips as though they were glittering.

“Can I kiss you?” Jeonghan asked. The question seemed to rumble from deep in his throat and you felt your knees weaken.

You nodded immediately, allowing his hand to frame the side of your cheek as his warm, soft mouth nudged against yours. It was gentle for a fleeting touch, and then there was pressure, teeth, a slick tongue running across your bottom lip and leaving you in such a sensual daze that you just stood there with a parted mouth. Jeonghan definitely knew what he wanted from you in that moment. And he wanted it quick. You were flipped around, chest pushed against the door, skirt hiked up impatiently as the fabric ruffled around your hips. His hand slid between your thighs to rub you through the thin pair of underwear, pressing firmly enough that you could feel the cold, thick rings on his fingers.

Eagerly, you began a slow gyration of grinding against Jeonghan’s touch while simultaneously biting down hard on your bottom lip, knowing embarrassingly well that you were already sticky and soaking and ready for him to use you like a designated fucktoy. He was rather flush to your backside as he dug the heel of his palm against your clit, so much yet not enough between the cotton. Something about his scent was beyond arousing, and it gripped to him like a web. An expensive cologne no doubt, mature, raw, and ocean-fresh. You heard the sound of his belt being whipped open, followed by a zipper.

“Alright,” Jeonghan hummed, passing a hand up his length, “let’s make this quick. Gotta be back upstairs in five to finish the measurements and tapering and all that boring shit. Now, just be a good, quiet little girl for me, sweetheart, and this’ll be a cake walk.”

Your mouth stretched into a low, whiny groan as Jeonghan held your underwear aside and began to sink inside of you, his hips stalled against your skin. His light breath then fluttered at your ear, “bet you’d make such a perfect toy to keep my cock nice and warm. Feels so perfect, being this deep inside you, sweetheart.” He shuddered against you, thrusting once, twice, slowly and teasingly dragging himself out before ramming right back in to pinch you against the door.

“Fuck,” he cursed between his teeth, “life would be so much easier if I could just keep you right here on my cock, wouldn’t it, baby?”.

Undoubtedly, that smooth-talking tongue of his was going to be an impending problem. You don’t know where he got off exactly on such scandalous thoughts, but you were too consumed in your own lust to care. The way he fucked you against that door with one hand scraping at your hip and the other wrapped up your throat, fingers pressing hot into your drooling mouth to keep you quiet, it was more bliss than a one-way ticket to Eden. Jeonghan timed his orgasm appropriately, slipping himself from your warmth at the last second and finishing himself off using the hand which had been maintaining your silence. His breaths were slow but husky in the aftermath, his fingers painted in cum.

“You wouldn’t want to use that pretty mouth of yours to clean this, would you?” He laughed.

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had grabbed some paper towels left to sit on a shelf and cleaned the mess himself. Then, as though nothing had happened, he asked if you were carrying that damn Love Card before you could even flatten down the wrinkles in your skirt. You grabbed the small note purse you set down next to the paper towels and revealed the obnoxiously coloured card. Jeonghan smiled.

“That’s the one.” He took a dry erase marker from the shelf and wrote his initials in the first circle.

“Here,” Jeonghan proceeded to offer back the card, “one session down. I need to scram. The hall should be clear at this hour, but have a cab ready just in case you need to bolt fast. Oh—before I go, you got the money to pay the driver? It’s no problem if you’re short. I can cover.”

“N-No, I should have enough.” You answered.

“Cool. I’ll transact you tonight.” Jeonghan nodded, tucking in his shirt rather poorly before slipping past you to exit the storage closet.

One week later, you were at the entrance to the library, pulling open the door with a big, cold huff. It was much warmer inside. You were beginning to feel the tips of your stiff fingers again.

Despite your service at the Love Café, you wanted one last time to test your luck on a receptionist position at the downtown hair salon, simply because you would think better of yourself if you weren’t relying chiefly on Jeonghan to pay your bills. His last transaction had been more than you anticipated. Finally, you were able to erase that huge electricity bill, and you still had enough of the money left over to supply some warm meals for the next few days. If you could just submit your newest resume to the salon, then you might be able to permanently cover the groceries.

Except, you needed access to a computer.

Ever since you tipped over a glass of water onto your old laptop, it had stopped working properly, and the library was the only place close by which let you use the computer room without fees. However, as you peered in through the backroom window to find an open space, you realized just how crammed full it was. Judging by everyone’s intense typing and unblinking eyes, you weren’t going to steal a seat anytime soon, which pulled out a frustrated sigh as you fiddled with the USB in your pocket. You thought about heading home, until you saw Jeonghan.

He was seated at the distant left corner, leaned back comfortably in the chair while he examined something on his laptop. A gym bag was slid underneath the table, and he was dressed as though he had some sort of sports practice; quite the contrary to his usual crisp, ironed shirts and heavy winter coats courtesy of brands you couldn’t pronounce. He seemed concentrated, chewing on his thumb nail while he tapped the touch pad. In fact, he didn’t notice that you had approached him until you said his name quietly from across the table and his eyes flickered.

“Uh, hey.” Jeonghan replied, sounding bothered while he pushed his thumb harshly against his bottom lip. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“And I didn’t expect to see you.”

He shrugged, maintaining his uninterested glance on the laptop screen. “Well, I’m looking over some notes. Last minute stuff.”

You nodded. “What’s with the duffle bag?”

“My friend Joshua – he’s been making me coach this Peewee soccer team with him at the Greenfield Dome.” Jeonghan puffed out his chest, letting an arm fall loosely to his side. “Those kids are insane. They have too much energy. I shouldn’t have let that bastard sweet talk me.”

At that, you giggled, though immediately hushed yourself when the librarian came by with a metal cart, filled with books to shelve. You stepped around the table to move out of her way. Jeonghan pulled out the chair beside him using his foot and nodded that you take a seat.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out the USB.

“I need to upload my new resume. I mean, I probably won’t hear anything back from this place, ‘cause that’s how it usually goes. But, whatever. Thing is, I busted my laptop, and now the computer room is filled up. I’ll just come back later and hope it’s cleared out.” Staring down at your shoes, you avoided Jeonghan’s gaze. “I know I’m doing this Love Café stuff, but it would still be nice to have my own income, you know?”

“I get that.” He replied, scratching at his collarbone. “I’ve already got my laptop here and everything. You can use it, if you want.”

“Really?” You smiled wide. “Thanks.”

Jeonghan closed a few tabs that he’d been rotating between before sliding his laptop over to you. Wriggling the memory stick into the small slot at the side, you logged into your email account through the main search engine. As long as you could send your resume to the salon before they closed their application deadline, then you would hope for the absolute best, even if it was an unstimulating, lacklustre gig answering phones and scheduling hair appointments all day. Just as you went to drag the file into your email, Jeonghan’s laptop froze.

“Uh, Jeonghan,” you whispered, “nothing’s moving. Do I just wait? Does this normally happen? Did I screw something up?”

He shook his head and laughed. “Relax, relax. It’s been doing that a lot recently. I figured out if you hold down these keys—” Jeonghan suddenly scooted his chair in very close, his thigh pressing against yours as he reached a hand underneath your arm, the other lightly nudging your fingers off the keyboard, “then it goes back to normal. See?”

“O-Oh, yeah. It’s working.” You stuttered, not all staring at the specific keys he clicked because the side of his face was much too pretty.

Granting you access to the keyboard again, Jeonghan leaned away, though he didn’t move his thigh from yours even an inch. It was almost concerning how flustered you felt. Jeonghan had literally pinned you against a closet door and fucked his own hand right in front of you, and yet, your heart was fluttering tenfold. In a much different way. And it lit this spark of fear and adrenaline at the core of your chest like gasoline hitting a wicked flame. You detached the USB stick, logged yourself out from the email account, and moved quickly off the seat.

In a hurried breath, you said, “thanks so much!” and proceeded to leave the library as though someone were trailing you with a pitchfork.

While it was embarrassing, you knew it was necessary. There was no way you were going to crush on that boy. It was strictly business.

Tired. Aching.

Uncomfortable moisture covering the slopes and divots of your body. You didn’t think there was anything left inside you for him to so commandingly take, like his name were inked to your each and every limb. And yet, Jeonghan wasn’t ready to let you rest. The mattress dipped behind you, the heat of his chest sticking to your back, the weight of his erection pressed right at your tailbone. While his lips kissed softly up your neck, Jeonghan slid his hand in between your thighs to continue pleasuring you, ignoring the responsive whimpers attached to your sensitivity. He’d already brought you to two orgasms, though you were sensing the overbearing rush of a third.

An index and middle finger slid down to your entrance, the contact beyond slippery, a sort of wet velvet, and you hardly recognized the sensation unlike the first time he’d touched you. Jeonghan hooked the digits deep, using the heel of his palm to rub a thorough friction against your clit. Working faster and faster, his laboured breaths fanned hot across your neck while he sharply concentrated on making you starry-eyed. It was pain. It was bliss. It was exactly what you wanted most and everything you couldn’t endure at the same time. You came heavily, screamed as the pulsation at your core felt almost violent.

Unable to fully ride out the pleasure, you attempted to curl away from Jeonghan, hiding your face in the pillows and further tilting your hips. However, the boy followed your movement. He stayed snug to your back, practically leaned over top you with the latter arm braced next to your head while his hand pounded and pounded. The amount of liquid gushing onto his fingers and spilling down his wrist felt almost comical, and you were certain that you had never orgasmed so intensely in your life. To make matters worse, it seemed as though he’d taken that little memory box in your head filled with all your language and tossed it right out the damn window. You couldn’t form one word other than sobs.

Jeonghan breathed a light, shaky chuckle beside your ear. “Trying to run from me, sweetheart? When I can make you feel so good? Look at how much you can take, honey. Such a good girl when you cum so fucking hard ‘round my fingers I can barely move them.”

The sound of his digits sliding out from your entrance was the most impure, salacious noise you didn’t know could exist. Rolling slowly onto your back, you saw the immediate coating on Jeonghan’s hand and the drops beading down his wrist. He caught one with his tongue, licking all the way back up like he was cleaning the juice from a melted popsicle, and you almost couldn’t watch him. In fact, you were exhausted. There wasn’t anything left for you to offer, and the thought of moving from his bed when your core felt this utterly sore and your muscles this tight set a perfectly timed cue for your eyes to fall shut. It was heavenly.

Nonetheless, Jeonghan had a very specific rule. There was no staying past your session, and he was often strikingly clear about it. But this was the first time you’d been pushed to such a degree. He must be able to recognize that it was only a short nap you needed, and perhaps a quick minute under the shower to rid your skin of the sticky sweat.

Out of the blue, something was tossed onto your face. It was your t-shirt earlier stripped and thrown to the floor by Jeonghan. Cracking an eye open and peeling away the fabric to hang loosely from your grip, you sighed. He had already slipped back into his exercise pants.

“Seriously? I’m exhausted.”

He threw a loose flannel over the long, beaming red scrapes that you had clawed down his back, shaking his head with a huff.

“I’m not saying you need to get out right now. I’ve got a dinner with the parents at eight.” Jeonghan proceeded to drop the rest of your undergarments onto bed. “So, you gotta be gone by a quarter to, alright?”

Swallowing dryly, you nodded.

“Alright.”

The next morning, you were seated on the edge of your bed, staring with bleary eyes at the smooth, red Love Card that was initialed to its fifth circle, leaving only eight more sessions with Jeonghan. Though you approached the café with nothing more than an intention to earn money (even if the sex would be inexplicably dull), you were beginning to presume that there was more to this business than you thought. Because the sex wasn’t dull. It was concerningly amazing. And the very man who you had sworn to maintain a no-strings-attached type relationship with was throwing you for a loop. But he was boundary driven.

Be ready to go by this time. No sparkly clothes. Leave nothing in the washroom. Don’t show up here. Don’t show up there. Don’t text me unless this. Don’t call me unless that. Jeonghan knew very explicitly that you were a simple trick to relieving his stress and fulfilling his sexual desires, yet, anything further than that was laughably impossible. And, besides, it’s not like you needed to be in love or have this dazzling, perfect boyfriend. There was too much on your plate already.

You had gone to bed in a thick wool sweater, layered with the heaviest comforter you had due to the broken heating. Ignoring the cold, your next-door neighbours had found themselves in another drunken argument, forcing you to hear the unnerving crack of beer bottles and an outrageous number of insults, ranging from the very straightforward, ‘ridiculous bitch” to the audacious, “go fuck yourself, narcissistic prick.”

Thankfully, the dramatics ended just before three am.

You set the Love Card back on your nightstand. After you splashed mild water onto your face from the sink, you started multitasking, attempting to brush your teeth and remove your pyjama bottoms at the same time. Then, there was a knock at your door. You spared a glance through the peephole while the toothbrush hung from the corner of your mouth and the frigid air hit your bare legs. Upon recognizing the face reflected through the fisheye lens, you nearly choked on the mint-flavoured spit collected at the back of your throat, which forced you to unpleasantly compose yourself at the kitchen sink.

He knocked again, and you pulled the door open almost immediately, probably appearing as though you just hiked through the wilderness. Jeonghan’s eyes widened as he smiled at you.

“Damn. Sleep well?” He remarked, looking you up and down.

You were in the midst of a yawn as you answered. “Um, yes. I-I mean no. Wait, I don’t know what I’m saying. What was the question?”

Jeonghan nodded. “I’ll take that as a no.” He then reached into the pocket on his flannel coat. “Anyways, I have your phone. You left it on my bedside table the other night. Figured it’s kind of useful, I guess.”

“Oh my god. I did that?” You winced, realizing you must have been so tired and discombobulated from Jeonghan blowing your brains out that you forgot. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

Leaning your temple against the door, you sighed. “How was that dinner thing with your parents? Was it any fun?”

The boy shook his head, pulling out his car keys and tossing them from hand to hand. “No. It was all business bullshit. What they want me to do with my future after I graduate uni. How to be responsible with my money since they think I’m gonna blow it in a few years. Trying to structure my life around stuff I don’t really give a damn about.”

“O-Oh…” You frowned, “well, was there at least good food?”

Jeonghan stopped playing with his keys and titled his head at you. “Yeah,” he said, his eyes gentle, “they had great red velvet cake.”

Unfortunately, your neighbours must have woken up and decided it was a little too peaceful at such an hour, because you heard a loud, clanging thump echo from the room beside yours, like someone had dropped a metal pot or pan on the ground. Of course, the yelling started.

It didn’t last nearly as long compared to the night before, just a few scolding comments which were ultimately muffled. You wondered what Jeonghan was thinking as he blinked at the neighbour’s door and realized how despairing the narrow, dimly-lit hallway looked. After visiting his high-end apartment numerous times based in the luxury core of the city, with its beautiful architecture and sparkle, you were frankly a bit humiliated he was witnessing this drab part of your life – the reason you were seeking his service in the first place. You apologized through your teeth for the commotion, though Jeonghan merely shrugged.

“It’s better than nothing, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true. But those two next door can be a handful sometimes. I don’t get it. If they hate each other, then just break up. Get divorced. It’s like they want to be miserable on purpose.”

“Bet you wish you could get the hell outta here, huh?”

“All the time.” You replied wistfully. “I’m thinking of going to the mall today, actually. I need a new bath towel. Whatever gets me away.”

“You want a ride there?” Jeonghan asked, shaking his keys.

At that, you smiled a little too wide. “Maybe.”

Carefully, you picked up a thin, glass bottle of pink perfume from the display counter, tilting the liquid back and forth as the lights gleamed off the gold nozzle. Everything inside the store was diamond bright and almost blinding, while the air smelled strongly of expensive floral. The employees were tailored in smooth, sophisticated suits, which made you more petrified than usual to touch anything, hence your very delicate inspection of the perfume as you waited for Jeonghan to finish his conversation with the front clerk. Since his father’s collection was sold at the boutique, Jeonghan seemed to have a cordial relationship with the staff, and they had recognized him almost immediately.

As most of their merchandise was quite expensive, you always ignored the boutique until Jeonghan suggested you stop by. It didn’t help that there was actually some cute clothing begging to be bought, though you knew one swift glance at the price tag would change your mind. You brought the perfume bottle close to your nose and inhaled lightly.

“What does it smell like?” Jeonghan asked.

You sniffed again. “It’s sweet, though it’s not strong.”

“Let me smell.” He said, and so you raised the bottle up to his nose. Jeonghan wrapped his hand around yours as he took a breath, shaking his head in disapproval. “That’s all wrong. I don’t like it.”

“It is kind of high schoolish.” You told him, setting the test bottle back onto the counter as though you were laying down a jewel. “I just need a new scent, you know? I actually love that one bottle your mom did, the summer tropic one. It’s so peachy but mild. I’m running out.”

“For real?” Jeonghan laughed, his eyes skipping over the different shaped containers. “You use one of my mom’s perfumes?”

“Um, yeah. Have you even smelled the tropic one? It’s amazing.”

“I don’t hang around her laboratory too often.” He replied. “It gives me a big fucking headache. Smells like this place times a hundred.”

You shrugged. “I guess that’s understandable.”

Suddenly, Jeonghan had latched his hand around your elbow, pulling you around to the opposite side of the counter. He grabbed a tall, slim bottle that was made from foggy glass and a chrome silver pump.

“C’mon, give me your wrist for a second.” He said. “Try this scent. I don’t know why, but it reminds me of you.”

Pulling up your sleeve, you stuck out your wrist and allowed him to spray a thin layer against the skin. Then, you sniffed the area. At first, your forehead crinkled as you attempted to decipher its concoction of notes. There was something a little fresh and cool, but then there was this oddly mature hint of a distinguished floral scent. You couldn’t pinpoint the flower, but it was certainly addictive and very intriguing.

“It’s called Orchid Night. Smells great, right?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, rolling your sleeve back down “just don’t tell me what it costs. It has to be at least fifty bucks.”

“Try sixty-nine,” Jeonghan corrected, “plus tax, don’t forget.”

Immediately, you grabbed the bottle from his hand and returned the perfume to its small podium on the countertop.

“Well, let’s put it back before we break it.”

Jeonghan smirked. “I could buy it for you.”

For a split second, you were tempted to succumb, though you snapped from the thought at the last second and shook your head.

“No way. I wouldn’t let you, anyways.”

He buried his hands in his pockets, rolling those gold-copper eyes of his. Jeonghan made sure to purposefully bump into you as he walked down the bright aisle toward the clothes. “Honestly, you’re so boring, man. That scent, on you? It would be sexy.” The boy then turned around to smother you with a burning gaze. “But, fine. Have it your way.”

You hurried after him, scoffing lightheartedly to camouflage the fact your heart was beating like a broken pendulum. Jeonghan had stopped at a rack of neatly pressed clothing to sort through the hangers.

“My way is the better way,” you smiled, “always.”

Jeonghan moved the long-sleeved button-up he’d been eyeing back onto the rack, merely blowing out a puff of air.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Besides, I still need to get my bath towel.”

“We can find it on the bottom floor. At the new essentials store that just opened up. The Shower Duck, I think.”

“The Shower what?”

He couldn’t help but cackle while repeating himself. “The Shower Duck. You thought I said something else, didn’t you?”

When you were too tongue-twisted to reply, Jeonghan decided to place his fingers softly on your chin, holding your head still as he leaned in very closely to whisper, “you’re such a dirty girl, you know that?” You almost hated how casually he pulled away and continued to examine the clothing, as though he hadn’t just murmured a lascivious comment into your ear while the employees were standing a mere few meters across the store. More than anything, you desired the courage to deservingly tease him in return, to break that relaxed little shtick of his. Except, you weren’t confident nor subtle enough to attempt anything in public.

But when your eyes landed on that brand-new lingerie set wrapped primly on the nearest mannequin, you had a wonderful idea.

“No, are you being serious? Why? Why?”

His blunt fingernails sunk into the leather arms of the desk chair, scraping upward, as equally frustrated with your cruel antics as he was aroused and impatient. Maybe it was somewhat meanspirited to strut the thin, beautiful lace and ribbons curled around your body in a baby pink, and indeed, there was a moment where you pondered leniency, though, you severed the thought, because Jeonghan would surely tear each garter and bow from your outfit like it hadn’t cost anything at all. Pursing your bottom lip, you smiled, sinister and cold.

“I am being serious,” you stated firmly, nearing closer to his desk chair, “your hands won’t touch a single part of me, Jeonghan.”

He glared up at you with a dark, flickering fire in his eyes, as if he were already weighing the consequence to breaking such rules. You began to sit comfortably on the boy’s lap, curling your arms around his neck while maintaining the intensity of the stare.

“And, if you do, I’ll grab my things and leave. It’ll just be you and your hand, for the rest of the night.” Purposefully, you brushed delicate lips, featherlight, along his warm, red-tinged ear, to which you could practically feel him harden underneath you upon the whisper, “and there’ll be nothing you can do other than remembering how good it felt when I was in your lap, grinding down on you, baby boy, just like this.”

Slowly and with focus, you rolled your hips in a deep, smooth gyration, ensuring Jeonghan felt the heavy pressure against all the right places. His hands keened for your waist, so you immediately reminded him of your unnegotiable rules, forcing them to settle on the arms of the chair. He drew in a sharp breath. And then, he started to laugh, like a beaten protagonist receiving their first, acrid taste of defeat. Jeonghan titled his head back to smile very lazily at you.

“Evil.” He said. “You’re fucking evil.”

“Mmhm,” you agreed, continuing the unhurried, steadfast pace of your hips rolling back and forth, observing with poorly hidden glee as the boy lost his smile, “but you’ll still cum, won’t you, Jeonghan?”

Before he could sneak in a clever rebuttal, you adjusted yourself even lower onto his lap, digging your nails down the back of his neck as you circled a thorough motion against his erection. Admittedly, it was difficult to maintain the domineering act. Even through the black material of the slacks, his cock was managing to create a friction with your lace underwear, a friction so rough yet fruitless that you were already tempted to take him, full and aching inside you. In order to distract yourself, you licked the tender side to Jeonghan’s neck, looping your tongue in a messy, warm pattern overtop a sensitive vein.

“Ff-fuck,” Jeonghan stuttered, scraping harshly along the chair, “you devilish little girl, c-can’t believe you’re g’nna make me cum like this—b-but it feels so damn good the way you’re moving, baby.”

You suckled until you’d drawn a shiny, wine-coloured hue to the surface of Jeonghan’s skin, to mark a dark bruise as a keepsake. He kept breathing through a parted mouth, each exhale shakier and more erratic than the last, his knuckles hard like stone while they gratingly tensed and betrayed his frustration at not being able to touch you. With slow, teasing hands, you began to drag them down his chest, nails clawing at the expensive fabric of his dress shirt. Jeonghan squirmed. He clenched his jaw and cursed rough under his breath. You focused on where his cock was poking you to apply the most dizzying pressure thus far, rolling your hips until something inside Jeonghan snapped and you felt him cum.

“Jesus—fuck!” He shouted, the loudest you had ever heard the boy, and there was a notable tear in his usually soft voice. “Keep going, keep going,” Jeonghan panted, squeezing his eyes shut, “keep fucking moving just like that, sweetheart. A-Ahh, ff-fuck, feels s-so good—"

At the pulsating sensation right beneath your core, you submitted to Jeonghan’s wish and continued grinding down, even if you were beginning to tire at your lack of stamina. However, there came a point where you were too breathless to maintain such a pace, so you trickled to a halt and steadied your hands on his firm shoulders. He tossed his head back, neck leaned against the edge of the chair. The hazy, glass look to his brown eyes and the rose glow smeared on each cheek made it appear as though he’d just touched down from heaven. As you shifted slightly in Jeonghan’s lap, you noticed the white stream of cum that had soaked through his pants, and that somehow, he was still hard.

“I didn’t know you could beg, Jeonghan.” You remarked, grinning, meanwhile attempting to catch your breath.

He shook his head. “Don’t expect it too much.”

“Well, I can tell you’re satisfied, either way.”

He chuckled, brushing some of the loose hairs from his face. You felt his hands settle upon your waist’s bare skin, warm and squeezing. In that moment, you just didn’t possess the same acuteness to scold him.

“Almost,” Jeonghan huffed, “but, what do you suppose you’ll do to please yourself, sweetheart?” He leaned forward, until his forehead was just a sliver away from bumping yours, the boy sliding a hand down your abdomen and beneath the lace underwear. As he stroked the tips of his fingers along your slit, he smirked. “I’ve never felt someone so wet before, dripping all over my fingers and I’m barely touching you. Did it turn you on that much, sweetheart? Feeling my hard cock right underneath this needy pussy of yours?” Jeonghan teased with a smirk and a low, calm tone. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to duct tape his mouth shut or allow him to keep talking, as there was something about his honeyed voice which wound you up like clockwork.

Yet, before you could even start the syllable of a response, Jeonghan pushed you strongly from his lap, his hands glued to your waist as he guided you to stumble against the bed. Your back hit the mattress, the sheets puffing up around you. And then, Jeonghan was kissing you, lips clashing messily while he took advantage of the switched power dynamic to run his hands over your every inch. One second, they were cupping your breasts overtop the baby pink bralette. Another second, they were grabbing at your ass and kneading so desperately. You were being ravaged. It was overwhelming, it was gratifying, it was needed beyond belief.

“Hey,” Jeonghan said, separating his mouth from the side of your throat to stare at you with an oddly sentimental eye, “before I get all up in your guts and everything— you look beautiful. Even if you did choose this outfit to be a big fucking tease.” His fingers brushed down the edge of your jaw, and he smiled at you in a way that wasn’t clever or teetering on sarcasm. Your heart leapt like a little frog in your chest.

“Really?” You questioned him, not because you didn’t believe the lingerie suited your figure, but rather, you weren’t expecting this sweetness from someone who was always so quick to get rid of you.

He nodded, raising a suspecting eyebrow. “Yeah, really. What, you think I’m lying to you or something?”

“No, I don’t think that,” you answered quickly, curling your fingers into the bedsheets, “I just—I wasn’t… Uh, never mind.”

“Alright,” Jeonghan laughed, lowering his head to delicately kiss your cheek, and then your neck, “you’re a bit strange sometimes, you know that?” He mumbled against the sensitive skin, even daring to dig his knee between your thighs to make you increasingly pliable.

“I-I know,” you stuttered, unable to help your embarrassing voice crack. But you still smiled, letting Jeonghan explore and pleasure your body with an uncharacteristic tenderness for the remainder of the night.

Twelve am.

Usually, at this time, you’d be at the bottom floor of his apartment complex, seated by the lobby water fountain. You’d be examining your face with a pocket mirror, awaiting the yellow taxi cab, and trying to avoid eye contact with the wealthy businesspeople filtering from the elevators in glamourous congregation.

However, tonight was different.

Tonight, you were in Jeonghan’s bed, with a white sheet covering the lower half of your bodies, an ear pressed to his bare, warm chest while you breathed him in like the wind on a bright summer’s day. You felt his fingertips trace long figure eights down your spine and then dance back up to the subtle curve of your shoulder blades. Sometimes it tickled, other times it was a touch so soft it was hardly there, and in between you thought he might have been tracing words. The room was quiet. But good quiet— the comfortable quiet. And then you heard Jeonghan speak into the crown of your head while his hand stilled at your waist.

“Did that salon ever call you back?” He asked.

You sighed, focusing on your thumb which brushed a small freckle on his pectoral muscle. “They emailed me, and said their position was already filled, but that they’ll try to look for another opening.”

Jeonghan rubbed your hip. “That’s good, right? I mean, they didn’t just flat out reject you. They’re gonna keep you in mind.”

“It’s better than what I’m used to getting,” you answered, pressing your lips together and tilting your head up at him.

And, that’s when it struck you, like someone had just clanged a bell right beside your head. You were still in Jeonghan’s bed. You were still in Jeonghan’s apartment. You were still with Jeonghan. Feeling as though you’d broken some vastly significant cardinal rule, you operated on a strange basis of panic and autopilot, already seated at the edge of the mattress while you tucked your underwear back on.

“I’m sorry,” you spewed, reaching for your shirt next and straightening it out frantically in your lap, “the time escaped me. I-I know I have to go. And, my Love Card, I think it’s in my purse or—”

“Can you slow down?” Jeonghan laughed, casting a hand through his loose, disarrayed hair which you had admittedly tugged earlier in the night like your life depended on it. The boy’s arms circled around your midframe, hugging your back to his chest. “I don’t care about that stupid card right now,” Jeonghan hummed into your ear, “stay.”

At that, you almost choked. “Stay? You want me to stay?” You repeated dumbly, dropping the inside-out shirt back onto your lap.

The coldest shiver split down your spine as Jeonghan buried his face against your neck, taking a breath of your scent, kissing your skin.

“Yeah,” he purred, now pecking the soft spot behind your ear, “I want you to stay. Or, if you really want to go home, I won’t stop you.”

“No,” you replied almost immediately, melting into his voice, his touch, his body, “trust me, I’d rather be here.”

Jeonghan’s arms relaxed their snug grip.

“I figured that.”

Even though you had strongly protested the idea, Jeonghan succeeded at wearing you down akin to an ocean tide forming whorls into rock, and now you were seated before your vanity with an array of makeup scattered at your fingertips as you prepared for a dinner. His parents were going to be there, in addition to some business partners and close friends, which sounded like something from a hellish nightmare. In fact, Jeonghan himself didn’t seem all that eager to attend. He’d been sprawled across your bed for the past half hour, with the long drapes of his coat fanned around him, as he flipped through an old magazine. You were certain he just didn’t want to tough another dinner alone.

After focusing a spritz of perfume to your neck (the orchid one, bought by Jeonghan, because he was very insistent that you not smell like his mother) you shut off the vanity lights and sighed.

“I think I’m ready… Physically though, not mentally.”

Jeonghan yawned, tossing the magazine aside before he pushed himself to sit upright on the bed. He rubbed at his eye.

“Trust me, it’s not going to be the big, royal midnight ball that you’re picturing. My parents have these dinners all the time. You’ll be the centre of attention for a few minutes, and then it’s pretty much just business central from there. You’ll be lucky if you can even get a word in. I stopped trying months ago.”

You smiled at him, feeling slightly better about the situation, and took one last, scrutinizing glance in the mirror. The dress was simple yet elegant, a mute shade of dark blue with a beaded, crystal belt that you had forgotten about, as you discovered it laying behind a stool shoved in your closet. The fabric had an elastic tightness to it and was hemmed shorter than you remembered, just above your fingertips. You tried not to judge or overthink the figure which reflected in the vanity glass, or what Jeonghan’s parents might assume upon their first introduction to someone who was so clueless on their accolades. It was merely a dinner.

“Stop worrying so much,” Jeonghan hummed, sensing that you were at the forefront of a spiral. His hands settled to your hips and he caught your eye through the mirror. “No one is going to judge you, or poke fun at you, or say anything mean. I promise.” He then grabbed your winter coat off the bed, helping you slide into the arms, and even doing up the buttons. “You’re gorgeous.” Jeonghan said, tapping your chin.

It didn’t help that he could fluster you so easily.

Joshua wasn’t at all who you expected him to be, while simultaneously encompassing everything you would indeed expect from the position of Jeonghan’s closest friend. He was a juxtaposition personified. Slick, ash blonde hair combed into a handsome wave, eyes which twinkled like the restaurant’s diamond chandelier, and a soothing voice which could be a cup of warm milk on a frosty day, though his interactions with Jeonghan portrayed him as childlike and frivolous. He greeted you, at first with a quick hug. You heard him exhale deeply.

“Wow,” Joshua commented, retreating to shake your hand, “you smell amazing! I mean—well, I hope that doesn’t sound weird.”

You laughed, and wondered how someone could smile with such a prettiness. “Thank you! I’d be upset if you didn’t notice, actually.”

Joshua continued to shake your hand. “Oh, yeah, agree. It’s wonderful to meet you. Jeonghan’s been trying to hide you, it seems.”

“Go shove a break stick in your mouth,” Jeonghan scoffed, blowing a loose piece of hair from his eyes, “and stop shaking her hand like that. You’re gonna snap her whole arm off.”

Finally, Joshua released his grip, and your arm fell back to your side like a limp noodle. His cheeks were starting to turn pink.

“I was not. Anyways—” he nodded at you, “like I said, nice to meet you. I hope we’ll talk more tonight and I’ll pick your brain.”

“Sure thing,” you answered, waving the boy off as he returned to the dinner table before facing Jeonghan. “He seems nice.”

“And totally into you. I haven’t seen him shake someone’s hand like that since I introduced him to Elouise from France. He’s gonna turn into a lost puppy all over again. Bet he’ll try to sweet talk you later.”

“Can’t wait.” You grinned, already giggling through your teeth.

Jeonghan c0nsquently thwapped your forehead with his finger.

However, meeting Jeonghan’s parents was starkly different than the good-humoured Joshua. They both appeared cross, and firm, and before you had even shaken their hands you were forced to wipe yours against your dress. The father was a bit softer around the edges, showing you a pleased smile that reminded you instantaneously of Jeonghan, while the mother was stone-faced and seemed as though she hadn’t slouched since birth. Even when she complimented your fragrance, there was a tartness to her voice which made it sound disingenuous.

“Well, Jeonghan,” she said, clasping her hands together, “I’m glad to finally see you with a lovely lady on your arm. I didn’t think it was possible that you could settle for someone after being with Baejin.”

“Oh?” The father piped up, “you’re my son’s girlfriend?”

Before you could respond, Jeonghan had beaten you to it.

“No, she’s…” he bit his lip hard, “she’s just a friend. Mom kept nagging that I always come to these dinners alone, and she was down.”

For some reason, it felt like someone had pierced a pin straight through your heart – a very tiny hole which shouldn’t hurt all that much, yet stung like flesh to orange, glowing metal. In fact, there was a visible shift in your countenance, from a nervous smile to a sunken frown, but you were able to veil it very quickly and pretend nothing was wrong. Why should you feel so disappointed that Jeonghan had introduced you as a friend? The promiscuous nature of your relationship didn’t immediately loop you two together as soulmates, or lovers, or even the mildest beginnings of boyfriend and girlfriend. You tried to refocus yourself.

Jeonghan’s mother nodded. “Even if she isn’t your next Baejin, it’s nice to meet a new face. The dinner talk might bore you no doubt.”

“No, not at all—” you forced a smile, “I’m just excited to be here.”

It was easier to endure the night than you thought, because true to Jeonghan’s word, the conversation was a bunch of business lingo that you didn’t exactly understand, with the occasional question flitted to you by Joshua who sat across the table. You had completely emptied your glass of ice water, and were halfway through your wine when two fancy, tuxedoed servers stopped by the table to collect everyone’s dishes. A distant relative was seated to Jeonghan’s right, and they had swept him into a discussion of whether or not he was interested in pursuing his current degree or if he would abandon it to work fulltime for his father’s brand. Meanwhile, Joshua had whisper-shouted your name.

You raised an eyebrow, “what?”

“Are you getting dessert?” The blonde asked, already shoving a small, plastic menu to his face. “I can’t decide what I want.”

“I guess so,” you picked up an extra menu sitting by a purple wine bottle and started to browse the list of decadent food.

Joshua sighed, “I usually get the cheesecake… but, I’m torn. What if I want the caramel apple baked pudding with black truffles?”

“The caramel apple baked what?” You questioned, laughing from the absolute mouthful that Joshua just worded so effortlessly.

“I know, I know. It’s a jumble. But my family and I come here all the time so I’ve gotten these names down pat. What are you thinking?”

“Um, I’m not sure. I’ve never been here before, actually.”

His eyes, glistering and delighted, locked with yours. “Can I recommend you something, then?” Joshua said while smiling. “Red velvet cake. It’s right at the bottom. Not to mention the slice is huge so there’s always leftovers for the next day. It’s a favourite here.”

The relative responsible for dragging Jeonghan into another trite conversation concerning his future had excused themselves from the table. He was finally able to return his attention to you, and you slid over the dessert menu so he could pick something. You noted that Jeonghan’s hand had fallen onto your thigh, right at the hem of your dress, and you could only surmise that trouble was brewing. Joshua took a sip from his water glass, then settled it back on the table while subtly eyeing you.

“So, I’ve never seen you around before. Are you in school?”

You tapped your nails against the white table cloth, shaking your head, “no—I had to drop my program. It just wasn’t what I thought it would be and, well, I took a huge hit financially. So, no school.”

“Not everything is going to be a bullseye,” Joshua said, “I’m sure there’ll be more opportunity down the road. This other friend of mine, his name is Mingyu, he does this thing called the Love Café—” the boy then gestured to Jeonghan, “and I know he’s done it once before. Have you heard of it? Maybe it’s not up your alley, but I hear it’s good money.”

The suggestion had quite visibly stunned you. It seemed that Jeonghan was intent to keep the foundation of your relationship as covert as possible, which prompted his ‘friends’ comment before dinner, therefore you had no choice but to follow the rouse, even if the boy was currently sliding his hand further up the inside of your thigh, pushing inch by inch under your dress. Jeonghan didn’t contribute a single word.

“Um, the name sounds familiar. I’ll have to look it up.” You then glanced at him, hanging his head over the menu like a child who forgot their glasses, probably hiding some million-watt smirk.

“Are you having dessert?” Joshua asked his friend.

Jeonghan sat up straight, nodding, “I am.”

“The red velvet cake?”

“Vanilla ice cream. The one that comes on the skillet.”

“Oh, that one’s seriously good,” Joshua groaned, “ask them to put a chocolate chip cookie on the side. It gets all warm and—”

“Joshua,” the young lady beside him, probably in her late twenties, with petal-shaped, twinkling eyes similar to his and ice-like smooth skin, suddenly wrapped her hand around his arm, “can you come outside with me for a few minutes? I think I left my wallet in the car.”

He pushed out his chair. “Sure thing—guys, I’ll be back in a few. I need to help my cousin. If the waiter comes, order for me please.”

While you might have promised Joshua to follow through on his unnecessarily complicated apple pudding, such thoughts were quick to be discarded the moment he’d left the table, as Jeonghan had given you much more to think about. The boy’s hand was wedged between the apex of your thighs with two fingers pressed flat against your underwear. You felt heat, and the faintest burning of pleasure, one that yearned for you to start a gentle undulation against his hand because your unruly body was already eager for stimulation. Jeonghan picked up his wine glass.

“What are you doing?” You tried to shelter the whisper from the table’s guests, hoping the business speech was too engrossing.

As laid back as an ironing board, Jeonghan took a long gulp from his drink, swishing the wine from cheek to cheek before he swallowed. He set the wide-rimmed glass back down and wiped his mouth.

“What do you mean, ‘what am I doing?’” He said, raising an eyebrow at you as though you’d conjured a make-believe tale. However, the instant he started to slide up his index finger so it could push firmly against your clit, a smirk penetrated that complacent expression.

You grabbed his wrist, stared him dead in those honey-brown eyes. “Are you insane?” the whisper was harsh, “we’re in public.”

He tilted his head indifferently. “What’s your point, love? I get to play with your pussy whenever I want. It’s mine now. Remember?”

The dirty-mouthed comment split a fire beneath your cheeks like a flint cracking steel. Not only that, but Jeonghan studied each minor contort of your face as he slipped two digits beneath your underwear, brushing his fingertips ever so softly around your sensitive clit. You gulped, dry and gritty, hating that your thighs were starting to spread.

“Jeonghan!” A voice called his name from down the table.

Fear gripped your poor heart like latex glove. It was an older relative, asking him to pass down the remaining bottle full of wine.

“Oh, such a nice boy!” She chirped.

You nearly gawked at the remark considering the immoral placement of his hand and what he was doing. On the contrary – as much as you wanted to be embarrassed for allowing Jeonghan to touch you in public viewing– he knew his talents much too well, and the manner in which he used your own arousal to lubricate the massaging motion of his finger to your clit was an astounding bliss. Your legs fell wider apart, inviting him to explore a more rigorous touch, and that’s when Jeonghan curled his two fingers inside of you until his knuckles couldn’t fit.

Before your pinched expression could be caught by anyone at the table, you looked straight down at your lap, watching his wrist work beneath the navy-blue fabric. In fact, very faintly, you could hear the squelch from his digits pumping deep and slow into your warmth. Your bottom lip was quivering as he drew them out, now running the long length of his fingers upward to graze beneath the hood of your clit. He repeated a stroking gesture. It triggered the nerves to swell and pulse.

“I see Joshua walking back,” Jeonghan murmured, an arrogance thick in his voice, “and you don’t want him to find out about this, do you? Or, maybe I’m wrong.” He slid his entire hand beneath your underwear and cupped your centre, squeezing like he owned it. “Maybe you want him to know you’re such a whore of a girl that you’ll take my fingers anywhere. I mean, look at how much you’ve opened your legs, and I didn’t even ask you to. I love when you behave just for me, honey.”

Joshua collapsed back at the table with a huff, combing some snow flurries from his hair. “We found the wallet.” He said.

Yet, you couldn’t even bring yourself to face him. Jeonghan had spread your lips with his index and ring finger, using his middle digit to make rhythmic, deep circles around the bud. An erotic whine escaped your teeth and Joshua’s eyes widened; his face tinged with concern.

“Are you alright?” He questioned. “Did you get a Charlie horse?”

“N-No, I’m fine, really.” You composed yourself with a weak smile, and took a sip from your wine. “I got one of those rib pains.”

The blonde boy winced. “Ouch, those hurt big time.”

Honestly, you didn’t think it was possible to endure dessert without revealing to some degree that you were being, well, stretched open by Jeonghan. It was sheer torture staring at the waiter while he took your order, knowing the boy was lazily pumping his fingers inside you with a half-smirk seated so comfortably to his face. When that huge, delicious slice of cream red velvet cake was placed before you on the table, you could only fork a few pathetic bites, and when Joshua offered you to try a spoonful from his warm apple pudding, you nearly squealed the word no as Jeonghan rolled your sore clit between his fingertips. The most egregious aspect to the entire daubable was that the boy stripped your orgasm from you at the very last second, like stopping a rollercoaster just before it tips over the downhill plummet.

“How was the ice cream?” Joshua asked him innocently.

You observed with horror as Jeonghan brought that sinful hand to his mouth, lapping his tongue against his two fingertips as though he were actually savouring a sweet and flavourful vanilla.

“Delicious.” He grinned, catching your mortified stupor from the corner of his eye. “I’d taste it again in a heartbeat, Shua.”

Dropping the slice of bread into a shallow bowl, you used the spatula to submerge it underneath the milk, egg and cinnamon mixture until it was completely coated. Then, you slid the bread onto your buttered frying pan to let its surfaces crisp and brown. Since you began utilizing the service granted by the Love Café, life at your depressing excuse for an apartment was becoming more bearable, though your ultimate goal would be to ditch the paper-thin walls and insult-spewing neighbours once money was no longer a prevalent issue. You were still insistent on supporting yourself too, if you could ever score a job.

You flipped the bread onto its opposite face, pressing it down with the spatula as the pan sizzled and the butter popped. A few days had passed since your last intimacy with Jeonghan, and the proof would have been stamped to your Love Card if the boy had actually written his initials like usual. The thing was, Jeonghan – who had always been so firm and unwavering on the rules of the café – was now skirting about the regulations as though they were optional. There were days when he didn’t even initial the card, but still delivered his transactions. In fact, you were almost positive that sex had happened more than twelve times and that you could be renewing your card if wanted (you didn’t).

As silly and cliché as it sounded, you liked Jeonghan. You constantly thought about him and missed him and wondered what he was doing while you were trapped in bed listening to another argument between your spiteful neighbours. There was always a deep, electric pounding in your chest upon weaving the tips of your fingers along his skin, touching him, exploring him. Yet, when he held you close, tucked your body tight against his like there was nothing surrounding you but ice, comfort found a home in your belly like a warm, homecooked meal.

After spilling some icing sugar and strawberries across the toast, now fried a delicious shade of golden-brown, you took a seat at the counter and dug in. There had been an occasion where Jeonghan brought you breakfast after warping your legs into complete gelatine (you had no idea that kitchen table sex could be so fiery and passionate), which proved to be a pleasant morning, where you could still feel the softness of his thumb as he kindly brushed some whipped cream from your bottom lip. You sighed, sticking a strawberry into your mouth. How foolish it might be to fall this far and this devotedly for someone like him.

But you didn’t want to stop yourself.

In fact, you reached for your phone across the counter, swiped into your messages, and decided to be bold. You texted him.

[ 9:29 AM ]: Hey! I know that I’m not supposed to send you anything unrelated to our business lol, but

[9:29 AM ]: Just wondering if you’re available to grab a coffee with me or something along those lines?

Setting the phone down and turning it over so you wouldn’t be tempted to helplessly wait for a notification, you continued eating. After scraping the last few pieces of toast and syrup around the plate, there was a vibration and a quick, ding! Strangely, you were starting to sweat.

[ Jeonghan | 9:34 AM ]: Sorry. In a lecture rn.

Of course, your surge of bravery immediately dehydrated, and you decided it was best to pretend that you hadn’t asked him anything at all – for your confidence’s sake. The next two hours were spent cleaning the kitchen, taking a short walk outside the complex to feel the Northern air refresh your face, and finally, a long bath, in which you nearly fell asleep and drowned as the steam lulled your eyes shut. While wrapping your body snug in that new, hot pink bath towel, you heard a knock at the door. You assumed it was the painter who occupied the room directly below yours, as you had borrowed his vacuum the night before, though you weren’t exactly raving at the thought of answering him in a towel.

However, by squinting through the fisheye lens, you were shocked (and greatly relieved) to discover that it wasn’t the middle-aged painter dressed in his splattered, dirty overalls, but Jeonghan.

And he was holding a drink.

You unlocked the door.

“Uh, hello after all. What are you doing here?”

He smiled at you and held up the cardboard cup, “my lecture ended, and I thought I’d do you a solid. Couldn’t remember if it was two sugars-one cream, or two creams-one sugar. So I tossed a coin.”

“What exactly was the result?” You giggled.

“Heads,” Jeonghan answered, “two sugars-one cream it is.”

“You’re lucky that’s correct.”

Accepting the warm cup from his hand, you set it carefully on the kitchen counter. When you returned to the door, Jeonghan was evidently ogling you. He really suited the image of a casual university student when he wasn’t dressed to gems and jewels in his sumptuous clothing.

“I knew the hot pink towel would look good on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not dropping it, so forget it.”

“Whoa,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “I didn’t ask you to drop it, sweetheart. I’d rather you not actually, with this door wide open and everything.”

“Did I really just hear that from you, Mr, Dinner Table?” Folding your arms, you stared him down with an accusing expression.

He held up one finger in defense. “First of all, that was under the table, so unless someone bumped their fork or something, then we were pretty much safe. This is you dropping your whole towel right in the doorway like there isn’t a weirdo probably peeping you across the hall as we speak. And I’m not letting anyone look at you like that, ever.”

“Fine,” you sighed, hoping he couldn’t spot the flustered heart pumping your chest beneath the towel, “you’ve made your point.”

Jeonghan checked his silver wrist watch, “fuck. I gotta get going, need to be at the studio so I can be a taper dummy again.”

“Oh, okay,” you nodded, “talk to y—”

Suddenly, the boy was cupping each side of your face in his hands, and his lips pressed soft but quick to your forehead. Jeonghan then pinched your thigh under the towel, a gesture which felt oddly endearing rather than sexual, before he left the corridor.

“Later!” He’d called.

Shutting the door, you returned to your seat at the counter, holding the coffee cup up to your mouth as you took a small, nervous sip.

How could you let yourself fall this easily for him?

Jeonghan’s washroom was somehow nicer than your entire apartment, and you were fairly certain that your eyes had never seen so much white-grey marble, all squeaky-clean and aglow with lights. He’d shot you a text roughly an hour ago, right after he was released from the painful effort required to keep Joshua’s peewee soccer players in check, wondering if you were available to come over. Of course, the innocence to the term ‘come over’ was nothing more than a euphemism, a means of sugar coating what Jeonghan actually intended: to be inside you no doubt. And since the boy was so drained and unwilling to instigate any work himself, Jeonghan decided that a steaming, hot bath should do.

Well – a bath which involved you seated on his dick. The tub was dark grey tile, square-shaped, and practically the size of a small jacuzzi. It even had a bench to sit on. While it had been difficult at first to simply cockwarm the boy – when all you could feel was how deeply he spearheaded into your sensitive spot and how this shock would ripple from your abdomen at even his gentlest movement– you knew he wasn’t looking to make things quick and temporary. Therefore, you settled into his lap, wrapping your arms around Jeonghan’s neck while his circled your waist beneath the water. Both of you were starting to fall asleep.

“Jeonghan,” you whispered, lifting your head from his shoulder, only to remember that you were indeed naked and this heat lapping around you was definitely not a blanket, “can I tell you something?”

With his eyes still shut, he nodded, his fingers digging appreciatively at your hips. “Of course you can, baby.” He replied, his voice sounding deeper than usual as he orientated on the edges of sleep.

Smiling, you combed through the damp hairs at his nape, your voice reverberating like a musical instrument off the marble. “Remember the salon place? They called me two days ago, said they had an opening for me and that I could start next Monday. I… I wanted to text you about it, like, as soon as it happened. But I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“What? Really?” Jeonghan was staring at you now, his head straightened from its leisurely position against the edge of the tub and cocked with interest. The fact he seemed so intrigued, that you could read the genuine excitement building up in those brown eyes, had almost made you happier than the salon’s phone call. “Congratulations!” He leaned forward to kiss you, pecking your lips chastely the first time, and then slower come the second, his hands squeezing your thighs.

After a tiny laugh, you sighed contentedly. “Thank you. It’s going to be so nice having my own cashflow and everything. And if I can work my way up and become like, a kickass hair stylist? Can you imagine?”

“Should I grow my hair out more so you can practice cutting it? You’ve got a steady hand, don’t you?” Jeonghan asked, mostly teasing, as you could imagine his parents harping him during his next session at Opal Studio if he looked as though he’d ran through some hedge clippers.

Returning the affection, you kissed the rosy tip of his nose. “I think my hands are pretty steady. We’ll find out I guess, and we’ll know for sure if a huge chunk of your hair falls to the floor.”

Your laughter immediately mingled, and you hid your smile against the boy’s neck, a very moonstruck, loopy smile which felt like riding a blazing comet between the stars. If you were legitimately able to climb higher amongst the business, then you could picture a life in which you didn’t need to lean on Jeonghan and the Love Café for financial support. In fact, there were moments where you felt rather dirty using his money even when he was completely insistent on such matters, like buying food and paying off bills. You held tight to a certain hope, that you could become independent again, and maybe, just maybe, be able to keep this beautiful boy whom you once thought would hate you.

His fingers tapped up your spine, urging you to face him.

“Seriously,” Jeonghan said, “I’m happy for you.”

“I know,” you answered, so quietly he could hardly hear it.

And then, you decided to kiss Jeonghan, placing your damp hand upon his cheek while your mouths slotted together. The contact had lost its grace almost instantly, and the kiss turned from a sweet gesture to a sensuality so thick you could feel it swelter the air and pool between your legs. He offered his tongue for you to suckle by sliding it smoothly into your mouth, and from there, Jeonghan’s intended relaxation had vanished. His hands grazed to the front of your body, reaching up and sliding back and forth over each breast. It wasn’t until Jeonghan began massaging his thumbs in circular motions around your nipples that you moaned into his mouth, a sound which flicked a smirk to his face.

Once his lips were shiny and slick with your saliva, he moved each kiss down the side of your neck, now pinching at your nipples, even twisting gently and making sure to ease the dull throb by rubbing them afterward. It was becoming unbearable. You needed to move. However, the second you started a rhythm in Jeonghan’s lap, he shook his head.

“Be still,” he told you, lightly gripping your chin.

The desperation in your whine was horribly apparent, almost soaking each word. “No Jeonghan, I-I can’t do that anymore—” ignoring him, you continued to grind your hips and move the water around you, feeling his engorged head tick against that one spot of insane pleasure, “I need t’cum now, all over your cock.” With every bounce in his lap, you begged, “please, please, please.” This prompted Jeonghan to grab your waist much tighter than usual and slam you down, holding you still.

“No, not like that,” he grunted, and you wondered if his control was simply otherworldly or if he was just that talented at hiding how good he felt. “I’ll make you cum, sweetheart,” Jeonghan nodded, “but you can’t move. I just want you to sit there, all the way down.”

He then leaned in close to your face, nearly pressing his forehead to yours, and that’s when you felt his thumb brush with a featherlight, fleeting touch across your clit. The sudden stimulation jerked your body. Jeonghan bit his lip and grinned while continuing the sensitive touch, the pressure becoming heavier with each minute that passed. Your thighs started to tremble, and your moans were echoing around the washroom.

The honeyed dirty talk crawled up Jeonghan’s throat. “You’re such a cute little cocksleeve, sweetheart,” he purred, titling his head as he rubbed his thumb faster, “oh, look at you, baby. Shaking and crying and taking it like it’s the only thing you’re good for—” a messy kiss to calm you down, thin strings of saliva hanging in the air each time your mouths separated, “I bet you’re gonna cum for me soon, right?” The boy encouraged, keeping his forehead flush to yours so he could observe with utmost clarity the beautiful contortions of your face. “I know you are, sweetheart. Because it feels so good, right?” You nodded frantically, digging your fingers into his neck like a cat sinking in its claws. Jeonghan’s thumb pushed beneath the hood of your clit, directly massaging the soft bud, and the pleasure inside you leapt to a new high which made you dumbly lose all sense.

“Cum.” Jeonghan commanded so gently, his gaze burning against your eyes, squeezed shut. At the straightforward word, you allowed the sensation to swallow you like a current, and the hot, teary cry you mewled had been quickly snuffed as the boy pushed his lips to yours.

“Can feel you clenching so fucking tight around my cock,” he chuckled, digging his nose into your hair and speaking warmly beside your ear, “and how much you’re throbbing right under my thumb. Must feel so good, sweetheart, cumming all over me like such a good girl.”

You slumped against him, overwhelmed, emptied, and breathing so heavy that you were afraid the oxygen might dwindle completely from your lungs. The fact Jeonghan could remain so composed while buried to the hilt in your heat was something else that frightened you, though, in the moment, you preferred not to think about it, instead concentrating on the distant sensation of Jeonghan drawing galactic shapes to each your shoulder blades.

Hopefully, he’d let you stay the night.

Once you started the receptionist job at the hair salon, you had bumped into Joshua on a Friday evening. While his platinum blonde look was indeed enchanting and princely, he complained that it was difficult to maintain the roots, and that he often found himself back in the stylist’s chair for a touch up. He’d come in on a whim. Luckily – due to the late hour – there was an open seat, and Joshua puffed a great sigh of relief as he hooked his jacket onto the salon coat hanger. Curious if there was more behind the reason to his abrupt appearance, you conversed with him while he waited for the stylist to tidy up her work area.

That’s when Joshua informed you of the Opal’s Galleria Night, a fashion exhibition which would display Mr. Yoon’s newest edition for his upcoming Spring line. Joshua seemed surprised that you hadn’t known about the Galleria, or, that Jeonghan hadn’t mentioned it to you. Oddly enough, Jeonghan had been radio silent the past three days; not a phone call, or a voice memo, or even a text. Yesterday you had hoped to catch him stuck in the books at the library, but the area where he usually sat was occupied by a study group of freshman. It concerned you a little.

An ungraceful quickie in the washroom after his three-hour lecture ended on Tuesday was your last encounter. Not to mention, there was only one more opening left on your Love Card.

“He didn’t say anything,” you told Joshua, pretending to act indifferent “so… I don’t think he wants me there. It’s not a big deal.”

Yet, that’s not how you truly felt. There had to be some reason for the boy’s keeping you in the dark. Did he not want to explain the ‘friends’ trope to all the Galleria members, like at the dinner? Or, was he thinking that you wouldn’t be interested? It wasn’t easy to seem unphased.

“Jeonghan doesn’t need to invite you,” Joshua had said, “cause I’ll invite you myself. Mr. Yoon said it was more than fine if I brought someone along. So, why not you? It’ll make the night more fun.”

At first, you vehemently rejected the invite, no matter how sweetly Joshua attempted to rope you into a night of free perfume samples, delicious catering food and a chocolate fountain perfect for dipping strawberries. However, when the hair stylist pulled Joshua away to fix his darkening roots, you had much time to mull over the offer, and even the fact you felt poignant about dismissing it. As you tapped a pen against the desk, staring out the window into the grey, dulling sky, you convinced yourself there could be no harm in attending the Opal’s Galleria Night. Besides, you and Jeonghan weren’t cast in stone. He probably wouldn’t bat any eyelash anyways, knowing his eased nature.

And so, you caught Joshua just before he left.

You told him you’d changed your mind.

When Jeonghan first saw you at the Opal Galleria, it was from across the ballroom that had been temporarily converted into an exhibition space, stood next to a mannequin draped in a cherub-pink slip dress. Almost comically, he gagged on some sparkling champagne held in a thin and tall glass, though he recovered smoothly as to not interrupt the conversation his father was sharing with the dense crowd. You waved at him, not too noticeably of course, but he either didn’t catch it or had decided to ignore the gesture. Shrugging, you tried not to overthink it.

Mannequins were lined up along both sides of the ballroom, adorned in the mild tones baring semblance to Spring, with the blips of baby blues, clementine oranges, and cream violets transforming the Galleria into an acrylic painting. Jeonghan’s mother took the opportunity to offer some spritzes from her most recent line, which had both you and Joshua smelling like a tulip garden. While exploring the room with the blonde boy, you stopped to examine a mannequin dressed in a relaxed, high-waisted pant and a lace camisole that seemed breezy and flowing. This collection was definitely tamer compared to the usual extravagance you had always seen through the store windows and in magazines.

“Would you wear it?” Joshua asked, chewing on a strawberry that he might as well have plucked from thin air.

Tilting your head and squinting, you took a moment to contemplate. “If it was my size I might, if I could find a price hanging off somewhere. But I don’t want to even touch it. Mannequins are weird.”

“No prices are usually displayed at the Gallerias,” Joshua informed you, “though, I will agree. It’s probably a Toy Story thing where they all start moving at night when no one’s here. Spooky, huh?”

You sighed at him, “thanks for the nightmare material.”

Suddenly, there was a tap to your bare shoulder, and you nearly yelped like a cat with a stepped-on tail as Joshua laughed between bites from his juicy strawberry. Turning around, you were met with Jeonghan, who had this flat-lined, unenthusiastic smile hardly touching the corners of his mouth. He looked rather agitated in fact, and you felt cold inside.

“Hey!” Joshua exclaimed, punching his friend’s arm. “Finally escape your dad’s novella-length speech on the pink slip?”

The crowd once gathered around the mannequin had started to disperse, with the visitors now exploring the rest of the outfits.

Jeonghan hardly payed any mind to his friend, throwing out an impatient, “yeah, it was whatever,” before he began questioning you. He started with a rather inhospitable, “why are you here?”

“I invited her,” Joshua announced, “since I ran into her at that salon place. I thought it would be nice and everything. The Gallerias can get pretty stiff if you come alone. Plus, there’s chocolate fountains.”

He appeared nettled, like he’d woken up and spilled coffee on his favourite shirt. You couldn’t place the exact emotion, nor could you identify the reason behind Jeonghan acting as though there were one-hundred choice words waiting to zap off the tip of his tongue. For an instant, you wondered if it would be worthwhile to question him, though there was a shout of the boy’s name and you spotted his parents beckoning him over from across the exhibition. Jeonghan merely rolled his eyes, disappearing just as quickly as he’d arrived to accompany them.

You folded your arms concerningly. “Do you know if something’s wrong? I haven’t seen him like that before.”

Joshua dropped the rest of the strawberry into his mouth. “He’s probably stressing over something. I wouldn’t worry too much. He’s not really one to blow up or get all in your face. I’ll talk to him later.”

Seeing as there were others who wanted to examine the camisole mannequin, you and Joshua seated yourselves at a tiny table right beside the chocolate fountain and catering foods. Though, you were unable to quell the curiosity at what Jeonghan was needed for, prompting your eyes to wander as unnaturally as possible in his direction. He’d just pulled a young woman into a hug, and she was positively gorgeous, dressed in a silk-fabric dress, form fitting and ruby red, with an elegant slit parting up to her right thigh. Her ponytail was slicked shiny as though her hair had been styled professionally, and she flaunted a dreamy smile that reminded you of a vintage female heroine.

And then, like a slap to the face, you realized she must be the woman whom Jeonghan’s parents seemed to be obsessed over.

Baejin, his ex-girlfriend.

She mentioned something into his ear, and they became giggly, the two pulling in again for another short hug. Jeonghan’s father gestured back to the pink slip mannequin, and the four walked over to discuss it for the umpteenth time. You wondered if she was going to be modeling some of the clothing. The assumption felt correct as Baejin touched the dress’ delicate fabric and the beaded, glimmering string tied around the tiny waist. Quickly, Jeonghan fetched the girl a champagne glass, the two drinking together while the father appeared to be entering another in-depth explanation. And, perhaps dignifiedly so, you were feeling mislead and upset. You speculated if this could be the reason for him to keep the Opal Galleria a secret – Jeonghan didn’t want you to catch even a glimpse of him reuniting with Baejin.

They hardly portrayed two ex’s who were now settled on different chapters to their lives. The longer you stared, the angrier, yet, more confused you felt. As you thought before, the odd relationship between you and Jeonghan was not set in stone, and it certainly didn’t ignite with the intention of actual love taking a blossom to your doorstep. It could be that you were jumping to conclusions, misreading things, or disillusioned by your tendency to wishfully think. Nonetheless, the sight still hurt.

Joshua bumped your elbow.

“Are you hungry at all? The scent from the catering tables is getting to me. I can grab a plate for you, if you want.”

With a sigh and a fragile smile, you shook your head. “No, I’ll come with you. Besides, you don’t know what I like anyways.”

“Fair enough.” Joshua agreed.

He stuck out his hand for you to take while rising from the chair.

Grabbing a small plate, you started at the end of the catering table and began making your way down, using the plastic tongs to serve yourself some spring rolls. Joshua filed after you, instead taking a bowl and scooping up some of the fresh zucchini pasta. Admittedly, you had lost your appetite after watching Jeonghan act so cordially with Baejin, though you were determined to not let the plight sour the otherwise enjoyable night you were having with Joshua. Once you reached the chocolate fountain, you swore a sparkle jumped into his eye.

“Why are you so obsessed with the fountain?” You had tried not to laugh as you asked the question.

The blonde boy looked aghast. “Because, it’s beautiful!” He picked up a strawberry arranged neatly around the base, dipping the edge briefly beneath the chocolate. “I mean, how can they make it so delicious and velvety? When I came to my first Galleria, I spent like, half my night just standing by the fountain, eating the fruit.”

You couldn’t help but think Joshua was adorable, and you grinned at him, “well, maybe I don’t have as much of a sweet tooth.”

“Just shush up and try this.”

He held out the strawberry, inviting you for a taste. At first, you paused, wondering if there was some flirtatious intention behind the gesture or if Joshua was just being his overtly kind self. And then, you held onto his wrist and took a bite from the strawberry, the warmth of the melted chocolate satin-smooth against your tongue.

Wiping the edge of your mouth, you nodded. “It is pretty tasty, actually. Let me try dipping it. You make it look weirdly fun.”

After setting down the catering plate, you took Joshua’s strawberry while he picked up a new one. Together, you pushed your fruits beneath the streaming chocolate, twisting it at the green leaf to fully coat the sides. So it wouldn’t drip, you immediately took a huge bite with a hand placed just below your mouth, humming contentedly.

“Okay,” you mumbled, still chewing, “I can see why you like this so much. I think I could get addicted to chocolate strawberry dipping.”

“Me too,” Joshua chuckled, “oh! Look, there’s whipped cream here and I didn’t even see it!” He set down his plate beside yours and grabbed the bottle like an eager little child. Popping off the cap, Joshua shook the can and pressed his fingertip against the nozzle, spraying a white-frosted peak onto the top of another strawberry. You copied him, though you had accidently sprayed too much. Once you licked the cream off your finger, you poked the entire fruit into your mouth like a funfetti-sized cupcake. For some reason, Joshua started giggling at you.

“What?” You glared at him playfully. “What’s wrong?”

Rosy tinges flushed to the arch of Joshua’s cheeks. “Uhm… Well, l-let me just—” he stuttered, cupping his hand gently to your face, his thumb brushing at a spot right below your bottom lip. “You had some whipped cream on your… chin slash lip. Sorry about that.”

“O-Oh, it’s okay.” You were stumbling yourself, tongue darting out instinctively to ensure there wasn’t anything still there.

At random, you felt this prickle tiptoe up the back of your neck, a sensation that was hardly perceptible yet singeing enough for you to notice it. Gulping, you peered toward that faceless mannequin draped in its pink slip dress, toward Jeonghan, Baejin, and his parents who were enthralled in a conversation with her. Jeonghan was glaring so blatantly at Joshua that you’d forgotten how to speak, and you couldn’t even pronounce a single word of warning as the boy started storming his way across the ballroom.

His grip was on your elbow like a viper’s teeth.

“Geez, where’d you come from?” Joshua said, though he was able to note the tension this time, and Jeonghan’s surly behaviour.

“I need to talk to you,” Jeonghan murmured by your ear, ignoring Joshua yet again, “in the hall just outside the exhibition.”

You didn’t want to agree. Strangely enough, you felt this urge balloon inside you, an urge to cause a gigantic scene with screaming and thick tears and unnecessary curses, because as much as you wanted to dismiss your anger, there were jealous, wronged feelings inside, on fire and itching to escape from your gut. Miraculously, you held your composure, and announced to Joshua that you’d talk to him later.

Jeonghan then tore you into the empty hallway.

It was like a lightning bolt, how quickly he exploded.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jeonghan ranted, pacing back and forth as the distant echo of music bled through the wall. “Seriously, I don’t text you back for like, three days, and you’re already going on a date with my best friend—” he softened his voice in a purposefully mocking way, “letting him get all delicate with you, feeding you all lovey-dovey style and wiping that cream off your lip. Did you think I wouldn’t see it?”

“Excuse me?” Your brow instantly creased like a folded map, and you felt an intense ache hit the front of your skull. “Um, you’re one to talk! How come you didn’t tell me about the Galleria? Because you didn’t want me to see you with your arm around your ex’s waist? Because you don’t think I’m good enough to show off to your parents?”

Jeonghan gawked at you. “Baejin? For real? You think I’ve been secretly dating her behind your back or something?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You barked, tucking your arms defensively across the chest. And, while it might have been too early into the argument to pit such a statement, you had already started bubbling, and you knew there was nothing to snuff your fire. “Besides, you hardly ever get back to me apart from when you want to fuck!”

At that, the boy was momentarily stumped. What sounded like a rebuttal fizzled at the back of his throat, though it faded away. The silence worried you, because it echoed a confirmation that Jeonghan might’ve actually never seen as you as anything more than an outlet to alleviate his carnality. That, once the Love Café ordeal was finally over with, he could forget you had ever existed like erasing a mistake of smudged lead. The thought made you glassy-eyed and thus, terribly vulnerable. However, you also craved the truth to your relationship.

“Just admit it,” you beseeched him, “admit that you want me only for sex and nothing else. Is that why you didn’t bring up the Galleria? Because you think it’s easier to shove me in the dark when it’s convenient for you? Is that why you were acting so mad?”

He skimmed a hand exasperatedly through his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not dating Baejin behind your back, I have never once thought you weren’t good enough to show off to my parents, and I didn’t purposefully hide the Galleria from you.”

“Right,” you scoffed, “but you’re fine with labelling me as a friend and pretending like we don’t hook up every week.”

“It’s…” he clenched his teeth and growled in frustration, “it’s complicated, alright? Can’t you just accept that?”

“Complicated?” A shudder coursed down your spine at having to repeat the boy, and the tears sprung from your eyes with such a sharp sting that it became impossible to hold them back. You felt each drop, cold and runny, drip along your face. “That’s the word you’re going to use? You’re going to look straight at me, after the entire span of our relationship since the Love Café, and tell me we’re summed up best as complicated?” Again, the word struck you like a stiff punch. If he was going to regard your connection so trivially, then you didn’t care whether or not he knew the verity of your heart. Like it would affect him anyways.

“I would’ve said we were in love,” you shrugged, watching his expression drop in a mere instant, “but—sure, let’s call it complicated.”

And, with the tears shining like salt stars on your face, you stalked out the building into the softening winter weather.

You didn’t know it could be so difficult to ignore someone, especially when you were supposed to hate them. The effect Jeonghan had on you was almost phantom-like; a constant lingering, even if the boy himself wasn’t palpable and poised right before your eyes.

It had been three days since the outburst at the Galleria. That night, you cried, and wept, and broke out the amber bottle stored beneath your sink which was only sipped from in occasions of complete misery – very well suited to the situation at hand. You had questioned calling the Love Café’s customer service desk to issue a termination of your card, and, at one point, you were standing drunkenly by the toilet contemplating your decision to rip up the red paper and flush it. Though, nothing ever came of either idea. Instead, you faceplanted onto your bed and allowed the intoxicated dizziness to fade black. The next morning, you were faced with multiple texts from Jeonghan, missed phone calls, voice notes. But you didn’t listen or respond to anything.

Complicated. That was the word you kept hearing.

Absolutely not, you had thought that morning, you weren’t ready to speak with him, even if the temptation seemed like it could be promising. The air was still too bitter. And you couldn’t handle another argument.

On the second day after the outburst, you were seated at the receptionist desk in the salon, flicking through a magazine while you became increasingly mindless to the humming of the blow dryer and the potent fragrance of the hair products. When you glanced out the window, you nearly combusted, as both Joshua and Jeonghan were about to enter the salon together, hurrying in from the melted snow and winter’s final downpour. You hid in the breakroom until they left, forcing your co-worker to take your position at the desk. Joshua was apparently getting his hair trimmed while Jeonghan had asked about you at the reception.

“He’s gorgeous!” Your co-worker had immediately gushed to you in the breakroom. “Why are you avoiding someone like that?”

“It’s complicated.” You’d phrased it simply.

Dang it. You hated the fact you’d used that stupid word.

But, on the third day, most of your bitterness was gone.

After breakfast, you were back at the vanity mirror to prepare for work, and while you buffed some makeup to sit seamlessly on the skin with your puffy foundation brush, there was a knock at your door. This time, you didn’t bother peeping through the fisheye lens, because you knew exactly who it was – damn his persistence. Jeonghan’s brown hair had been slightly mused in the wind, and there was a glow as soft as a peach to each his cheeks. But that easygoing, relaxed smile was by far the most heart fluttering. He extended a coffee cup to you. When you reached out, Jeonghan suddenly pulled the coffee away with a tsking sound.

“You can have it only if—” he held up his finger, “you agree to let me in so I can explain myself. Yes, I’m bribing you. And yes, I’m an asshole from time to time. But five minutes at least. That’s all I need.”

For a moment, you wavered, only to mutter a resounding, “fine.”

Despite Jeonghan’s company, you still had work to get ready for, so the boy followed you into the bedroom. He took a seat on the edge of your mattress while you settled back into the vanity chair. Picking through your jar of makeup brushes, you plucked a round, oval-tipped one to apply your eyeshadow. Jeonghan was silent at first, watching you through the mirror as you hurried about the look. It wasn’t perfect, in fact it was a bit sloppy and rushed and there was already some fallout sitting like a glittered dust on your cheeks, though Jeonghan was staring at you with such fondness, you wondered if the mirror was reflecting the same image. Of course, the Love Card was sitting on your desk too.

“Well,” you spun around in the chair, pressing your lips together, “I’m waiting for you to explain, y’know. Like you said you would. Technically, you’ve lost a couple minutes, and I should really try to be at the salon early, but I’m still going to give you full time since—"

“I love you.”

“… What?”

“I love you,” Jeonghan repeated himself casually, a slow smile spilling from each corner of his mouth, “I’m in love with you, as deep as I could be, I think. Anyways, you want me to keep saying it? I love you.”

It felt like someone had taken a picture with the blinding glare of its flash, a picture you couldn’t be more unprepared for, the dots still dancing and fumbling across your vision. The moment was disorienting, but you experienced a very fulgurant warmth take shape inside you. It was comforting yet daunting, a sugar rush and a hangover, something so alive you knew you wanted it more than anything else in the world.

Yet, “you… are in love with me?” was all that you could express.

Jeonghan fiddled with the coffee cup in his hands. “You’re a funny girl, you know that? But I can say it a fifth time if you want.”

“N-No, I—I just, I wasn’t expecting—”

“Yeah, I can see that, “ he’d laughed, though it quickly fell into a sigh and suddenly Jeonghan’s temperament had shifted. “Look, I know that night wasn’t pretty. I know I ghosted you. I know I didn’t tell you about the stupid Galleria,” the boy glanced up, catching your eye, “but… I didn’t say anything because I was confused. I knew your Love Card only had one signature left, and just like that… you could be in my bed for the last time. If we’re really gonna get sentimental about it,”

Jeonghan chuckled, scratching his chin a bit shyly, “it could be my last time holding you, and kissing you… I just, I didn’t want it to be like that. But I didn’t know how to confront you about it, so I hid. And I stressed myself out, and I got so stupidly jealous and angry when I saw you with Joshua. That was my bad. I should’ve been upfront.”

Tucking your hands together anxiously in your lap, you nodded, beginning to understand the missing pieces.

“Thank you for saying that.” You murmured, tapping your feet in a nervous rhythm against the floor. “I… I was being unreasonable and jealous too,” you subsequently admitted, “I was assuming things about you and Baejin when I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what I was expecting anyways, that you act like she doesn’t exist? It was dumb, and I was adding pressure. I’m sorry too.” Wanting to lighten the tone, you smiled at him, “I guess we both have our flaws, huh?”

He returned the tender glance and held out the coffee cup.

“I guess we do.”

You grabbed it politely.

Turning around in the chair, you grabbed the bright red Love Card off the vanity, initialed until its last circle, “what should we do with this? I mean, we kind of messed up their rules, fooling around more than twelve times. And, well, I’m not gonna renew it.”

“Oh, let me see.” Jeonghan said.

As soon as you passed the card to him, he ripped it clean in half, crumpled each piece, balled them together in his hands and tossed the shreds into the trash can sat in the corner.

“Well, that was fucking easy,” he smiled, getting up from the mattress, “aren’t you late for work? Do you need a drive?”

You looked at your alarm clock.

“If you can get me there in the next ten minutes, that’d be great.”

Jeonghan headed to the front door while you hurriedly grabbed your coat from the closet and snatched your bag off the floor, resting the strap over your shoulder. With the coffee still in hand, you headed into the living area, looking around in one final swoop to make sure you had everything packed for the day. A sheet of sunlight spilt into the room from outside the window, pale, like the morning sky, yet filling every crevice of the cheap apartment with a dull shine. And for a very fleeting moment, you thought this place wasn’t so abhorrent. It had been your home, your stepping stone, a thumbprint which identified a period of hardship and growth. But, despite this bittersweet taste on your tongue, you couldn’t envision yourself staying.

“Come on,” Jeonghan pinched your hip, “at this rate I’ll get a speeding ticket trying to get you to work on time.”

Turning around, you stuck a kiss to the boy’s cheek, just catching the cool beginning of a smirk on that dazzling face of his as you interlaced your fingers and pulled him into the corridor.

No, you could not stay here.

Not when your future was with Jeonghan.

✧✎ a/n: yeah, so this was clearly A LOT longer than the original love café teehee. i remembered the plot vaguely therefore i refused to reread my first version weufhewif PLS IT MAKES ME CONVULSE SO BAD !! i just had to rewrite the plot and do it some actual justice! i hope this version is a lot better and that you rly enjoyed it! i wish yjh would give me money but i guess we can’t all live in a fantasy world!! thx for reading!!

#caratwritersclub #jeonghan scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt fanfic #jeonghan fanfic #seventeen smut #jeonghan smut #seventeen jeonghan #svt smut #yoon jeonghan #svt x reader #jeonghan x reader

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luvrlixie · 3 years

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KILLING ME SOFTLY

【REQUESTED】 - OKAY OKAY SJDBJSISH I WAS GONNA REQUEST A SKZ SEEING YOU IN THEIR CLOTHES OR SOMETHING BUT THEN I STARTED THINKING ABOUT BINNIE SEEING YOU IN SHORT SHORTS AND HIS SHIRT WHICH IS LIKE HUGE ON YOU (ALSO THIS MAN IS DEF A THIGH GUY) AND MY MAN GOES F E R A L. SO. YOU LET HIM RIDE YOUR THIGH <33333

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tags: changbin x gn! reader, soft dom reader, thigh riding/dry humping, very soft, exhibitionism????????? idk they aren't alone in the dorm but no one walks in. not a lot of smut sorry y'all </3 mostly just sappy emotions.. but still nsfw... lit rally wrote at 4am and don't feel like editing lmaoo

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"seriously binnie! if you're gonna spend so much money on clothes, you should at least wear them. you have so many cute sweaters and the fact that they're collecting dust in the back of your closet is a crime."

changbin sat up and peered over the back of the couch as you entered the room. he was ready to shoot back a snarky comment but his words died on his tongue as soon as he saw you.

you stopped by the studio to visit him earlier, where he and the rest of 3racha were working on a track for the next album. you hadn't planned on staying long since you knew your boyfriend would be busy. but about 20 minutes after showing up chan was ushering everyone else out of the room, claiming that he had everything he needed from the other boys for now and that they both deserved a night off. any worries you or changbin might have had about chan overworking himself were immediately replaced by the realization that the two of you would finally have some time alone.

and that brought you to where you were now. standing in front of a blushing boy, wearing shorts and a long shirt of his that completely hid said shorts. you had decided to change after your boyfriend proposed that you spend the night. (at the time he was excited for movies and cuddles, but now it was an offer that he was starting to regret as he could already feel himself growing hard). the shirt you wore was one that changbin never put on due to it's size, he didn't think the whole oversized clothes style was really his thing.

but holy fuck it was yours.

"you uh- you look good."

changbin swallowed and you squinted. he was always a sucker for you wearing his clothes, but it was still odd for him to be turning so red just from seeing you in an shirt of his. luckily it didn't take long for you to notice the way his eyes wouldn't meet yours since they were focused on a different part of your body. you couldn't help but let out a little giggle. seeing you in his clothes might make him weak, but his biggest weakness was your thighs. he'd never exactly talked about your thighs in particular, but it was something that you had picked up on as your relationship progressed. you couldn't help but notice how changbin was always making sure to leave little marks on the inside of your thighs, and would jump at the chance to lay between them when he got sleepy, and how he would often pull out just in time to paint your thighs with his cum.

"like what you see?" you asked playfully as you took a few steps forward so you were standing in front of him.

"like what i- fuck yes... you're gonna be the death of me y/n."

you hummed in amusement, loving the affected you had on your boyfriend, and tangled a hand in his hair so you could guide him forward and let him press kisses on your thighs.

"mm seriously, on my gravestone it's gonna say your name after cause of death" changbin breathed out as he happily trailed his lips over your skin.

"that makes it sound like I murdered you, I'm not a fan of that"

you stood there for a few more minutes. finally moving away once you sensed that changbin was growing impatient. although you loved making your boyfriend beg, now was not that time for that. even though you moved to sit down next to him, changbin whined when you stepped away. knowing you, the poor boy was worried that you were gonna make him suffer through the whole movie with a boner. however, you had much different plans in mind for tonight.

with a smile, you slid a hand between his legs. "such a pretty noise, that little whine. wanna make it again for me?"

changbin's mouth went dry, he opened it to say something but nothing would come out. how were you always able to make him speechless? he did want to make that noise for you again. he wanted you to coo over how cute he sounded, but not here. not in the living room with minho still tucked away in his room, and with hyunjin and seungmin who were expected back at any minute.

"please, please let's go to my room. I need you."

you shook your head and started palming at chnagbin's crotch through his sweatpants, making his body go slack. "shh baby it's okay, calm down. I was just gonna let you grind against my thigh, let you get off like that. we'll be fully clothed so if anyone walks in it'll be pretty easy to play it off as cuddling or a makeout session."

that seemed to be all the reassurance that changbin needed. the way you were touching him paired with your soft voice was making his head spin. all he was focused on now was making you happy and chasing his orgasm. not even a second went by until he was moving onto your lap so he was facing you and straddling one of your legs.

"there you go! good boy."

you helped him settle into a comfortable position and pulled him close so his chest was pressed against yours and his face was buried in your neck. as changbin started to move his hips, you continued whispering words of encouragement and gentle praises since you could feel how tense he had gotten. changbin hadn't exactly done this before. and although the whole thing seemed rather self explanatory and he had gotten off by rutting against a pillow multiple times, he felt a bit self conscious with you watching his every move.

"It's okay bunny, there's no right or wrong way to do this. just whatever feels good." you whispered soothingly into his ear, catching the nervous look in his eyes and the way his movements kept faltering.

it was silly of him to be nervous, he realized. the safest he had ever felt was with you, and over the course of your relationship you had both tried out plenty of new things together (both in and out of the bedroom). thigh riding? this was nothing, you had certainly seen him in much more embarassing situations. so changbin nodded and finally started settling into a steady pace, trusting your words entirely.

every drag of his cock elicited a soft ah sound from the dark haired boy. luckily, you didn't have to worry about him being too loud. he was vocal and made plenty of noise, but always quiet whimpers and soft choruses of "oh"s. you could get him to be loud if you wanted to, you knew how. for now the tiny noises he was making was more than enough to satisfy you as you played with his hair and peppered his forehead with kisses. "there you go bun, bet it feels so good huh?" as you spoke you pressed your leg upwards, applying extra pressure to the whimpering boy's cock. the gasp he let out made your eyes widen in entertainment and you repeated the action, taking pleasure in how he squirmed everytime. "keep going little slut, don't slow down. doesn't my bunny wanna make a pretty mess for me?"

"m-more'" changbin panted.

normally you'd chastise him for not saying please. but right now you honestly couldn't care less. you just wanted your boyfriend to feel loved. wanted him to be as proud of himself as you are of him. so you smiled and pressed your leg up again, hands gripping onto his hips so that you can help guide his movements. "that song you were working on when I visited sounded so good. I know you've been working so hard on it. you're so talented baby, so amazing." changbin let out a sort of strangled noise and tightened his arms around you, pulling himself as close to you as he could get. the absence of words didn't bother you. sometimes changbin babbled on and on while you ruined him, telling you how good he felt and how much he loved you. while other times he just clings onto you, settling on a variety of whines to communicate. both were good.

as the familiar tightness grew in changbin's body, he focused on following the push and pull of your arms. if it wasn't for you guiding him he would have entirely lost his rhythm. knowing that your boyfriend was getting close, you started bouncing your leg and kneading his ass with one hand.

"changbin.. binnie, hey. c'mon let me see your face" you softly prodded, waiting for him to pull back. when he did, your heart squeezed in your chest.

he was so beautiful.

his lips were parted and his bottom lip was glossy and red from biting down on it too hard. his hair was sticking out in a few places, and his eyes were so full of pleasure. you could tell from the glassy look that changbin wasn't entirely present, his thoughts were elsewhere.

"m'gonna..." changbin slurred, hips twitching and back arching. you caught on immediately and softly grabbed his chin to make sure he didn't hide his face again, you always loved to see his face screw up as he comes. this time was no different.

"good boy, good boy let it all out for me"

you helped him ride out his orgasm and leaned forward to kiss him. not even caring that the kiss was messy and mostly just teeth since changbin was panting far too heavily to give you a proper kiss. when changbin's orgasm had finished washing through his body, you let him crash back into your chest. as you waited for him to catch his breath you rubbed his back and buried your face in his hair, giving him time to compose himself before talking.

"I love you binnie"

"..love you too y/n ... but seriously you're way too hot ... gonna die from sexiness overload"

#skz smut #sub!skz #sub! changbin #sub! idol #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #changbin imagine #changbin x reader #changbin smut #skz x reader #skz imagine #stray kids imagine

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mysticalrambling · 3 years

Text

Coming Home (C.E)

Chris Evans Fanfiction (Fanfiction Masterlist)

Summary: dad!Chris Evans. Chris comes home to his twins fighting and he scolds them. But he also takes care of their wounds with you and then you all go out to eat ice cream and have a family day.

Warnings: None. Minimum angst but fluff all the way.

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"Where are the kids?" Your husband came and sat right next to you on the couch. It was a shock to him when he didn't see his two little munchkins clinging to his legs the moment he entered the house. It has been kind of their routine from the moment they could walk on their little two legs.

“They are busy playing in their play room. Why are you not happy about it?” You knew that after a full day of shooting, coming home to two energetic kids was tiring and stressful. So you were shocked when he wasn’t glad to have a moment of peace by himself.

“Well, they are a part of my routine now. It feels weird not having them jumping around me.” The three year olds have always been more attached to Chris than you. Initially, you were a little jealous that the twins focused all their attention on your husband but now you were glad. Having a piece of quiet while he handled the children was pretty awesome.

You both had pretty successful careers and when the twins came into your lives, you both decided that you would handle it all together. In the start, each one of your married girlfriend told you that you had to quit your job as the marketing head because being a mom was a full time job. You were scared and when you shared your concerns with Chris, he consoled you and told you that you would both do it all. Having successful careers while being good parents.

“Just spend sometime with me while Emma and Jason are distracted.” Pouring him a glass of wine, you leaned in to him with your head on his shoulder.

“That is a good way to spend my evening. How was your day, sweetheart?”

“It was hell. My boss gave me a project to complete with a bizarre timeline and when I couldn’t complete it on time. He just took it all out on me in front of my colleague.” Today was humiliating for you and you couldn’t wait to get home, drink a nice glass of wine and relax. “Hated it, babe. How about you?

“Well, my co star couldn’t get her part right so we had to do the same scene five times. We are behind on shooting now and I have to get up early tomorrow morning so that we can catch up to the schedule.” Sighing, he took a long sip of the red liquid and felt his muscles relaxing.

There was a moment of silence that enveloped the room and you just basked in it. “A crappy day for us both.”

“Indeed. Let’s do something exciting then.” He kissed you and just when things were about to get heated, a piercing scream interrupted the moment.

“What-What is happening?” He was still in a haze and couldn’t properly interpret anything.

“It looks like your kids are fighting again.”

“Are you going to handle them?”

“Oh no!” Laughing at his incredulous request, you picked up your glass again. “You wanted to spend time with them so go on.”

Chris got up from the couch and went upstairs. Emma and Jason love each other to death but they have been fighting from the womb. Emma is the stubborn one and while, Jason backs out most of the time. Sometimes, he retaliates and it turns real bad, real fast. They were pretty hot headed, just like you.

“What is happening here?” The dad mode was fully in place when he saw his little girl sitting on the floor with hands pressed to a bloody forehead and his little boy trying to console her.

“She pushed me and then I pushed her. Not my fault. But she hurt, daddy.” The panic in Jason’s eyes was evident.

“(Y/N)! Come here, right now!” You scrambled to your feet as soon as Chris’s voice boomed across the living room. “You never hurt your sister, Jason. This is not alright.” The stern voice was new for Chris but the situation required it.

“But, daddy-”

“No excuses, Mister. Now, apologise to your sister and no toys for you for the whole week.” He got in to action with the first aid kit that he took out of their walk in closet. Emma was still crying her lungs out even when Chris tried to console her. She was not letting him touch the wound and was squirming uncontrollably in his lap.

“Daddy, why you always bla- blame me? Hate you.” Hiccuping, he stuttered on the big words and then stomped out of the room. You tried to stop your son but he just ran past you.

“What is- Oh my god!” The blood was now soaking up your little girl’s shirt and she still wouldn’t let Chris touch the wound.

The one thing that your kids inherited from your husband was the fear of blood and stitches. The small three year old knew that a boo boo that hurts really bad will lead to stitches. You knew how to handle all three of your babies in situation like these. Taking Emma from your husband, you hugged her lightly.

“Bubba, I need to look at your boo boo and then you can have the Elsa bandage.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” When she removed her chubby, little hand, you were relieved that the cut was not big or deep. A bandage would just do the trick. You softly hummed a tune in her ears while you applied an antiseptic to the wound and then the band aid. She had tears streaming down her face and she was sniffling quietly. Chris took her from you when you were done and gently rocked her in his arms. He always loved it when both your children seeked comfort in you. It reminded him of how lucky he was to have you. “Where did Jason go?”

“I scolded his regarding this and he threw a tantrum.” When Emma heard Jason’s name, she further curled herself into his chest.

“Give her to me.” Raising her face by holding her chin, you sternly asked her. “Tell me what happened, young lady?”

With a guilty tone, she told you both that she was the one who pushed Jason first. They were both playing with the doll house that Chris bought Emma as her third birthday present. Jason wanted to add his toy cars to the doll house but she won’t allow it. She pushed him first and he hit his wrist on the small coffee table but then he pushed her back. When she fell back, she hit her head on the side of the wooden house.

“You are going to apologise to him, Emma. I told you that this much anger is not alright, bubba.” Chris took her to the twin’s room that had two different themes running through it. Emma was never a fan of the color pink so she went with purple and Jason really loved yellow, so he got that. The room looked like a clown’s den but Chris was never the one to deny his children’s requests. They had his whole heart well, except you.

“Jace, Emma would like to say something to you.” Setting her on her feet, she went towards his elder brother by barely three minutes.

“I am sorry, Jacey. Never should have pushed you. Kiss your boo boo to make up?” He nodded gently when his sister climbed in to the body. Extending the bruised wrist, Emma held it in her hands and lightly pecked on it. Meanwhile, you got a numbing cream for Jason and you stopped in the doorway with Chris and watched their interaction. They were your and Chris’s two little bundle of joys and you both couldn’t get enough.

“I am sorry that I yelled at you, baby. You two will not have your toys for a week. But who wants ice cream right now?” They both jumped at the mention of their favorite treat.

Chris had a way with the children. He completed all their wishes from eating ice cream as dinner or buying the most expensive toys for them. Making them happy was his primary job and he fulfilled it with great joy. However, he knew when to step up. He knew when to tell them no because he didn’t want his children to be some spoiled brats. He knew how to mediate and that was one of the many thing that you loved about him.

“I will get your jackets while daddy will help you with your shoes.” Going downstairs, you placed Dodger’s food in his bowl because you were going to be out for sometime. Chris always turns a simple outing to a full blown family day. A walk in the park, dinner at a high end restaurant and then shopping at the mall.

“Let’s go.” He buckled both the kids in their respective booster seats and made sure that they both had their preferred stuff toys. God knows, if they didn’t have them on their car ride.

The ice cream place on the fifth avenue was your favorite because it was where Chris took you on your first date. Both the children went for chocolate ice creams and Chris cleaned them up after they were done anything. It was so wholesome to watch him perform his dad duties.

“Then Oliver tried to eat dirt and the teacher gave him a time out.” You never understood why your son was friends with that boy because all he ever cared about was dirt.

“That’s why I hate boys. They are dirty.”

“That’s right, bubba. They are all dirty and disgusting. You stay away from all of them.” Gently nudging him with your shoulders, you playfully scoffed at him. He was sometimes very protective of his children.

“Ollie said girls also have icky germs.”

“Yes. You also stay away from them.” Chris was full on laughing at the situation right now because both the kids were in some serious thoughts.

“Okay dadda.” They both started skipping on the side walk and already started bickering about who was their dad’s favorite. He took you in his arms and kissed you on the forehead.

“Thank you for all this, babe. I love you.” He was truly thankful for you and for everything that you brought in his life.

“I love you too. Now let’s buckle them in before they start pushing each other again.”

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

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A/N: Dad Chris Evans is a dream so I wanted to write a little blurb related to this idea. Hope you guys enjoyed it. You guys can send in requests but I will get to them a little bit later because I am focusing on my drafts right now. Tell me if you guys want to be added to the tag list.

Taglist: @justile

Like, comment and reblog.

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poguesholland · 3 years

Note

Tom proposes to the reader?

This request was sent in literally a year ago, and I just got around to it now. So sorry!

It was your first time seeing Tom in about four months. He was busy with filming for his new movie and you were sent on too many work related trips to even count. Luckily, the both of you were able to take a week off from work to spend some time together in London.

December had never looked so beautiful, in your opinion. You loved London and you loved it even more during the winter time, not fully understanding how a city could be so marvelous. The Christmas decorations, snow everywhere, hot chocolate and cookies from Ben’s cookies just made your heart grow warm.

However, today, Tom and you were stuck in his flat as there was a snow storm and it was too dangerous to go out in. You sat on the couch by the window, snuggled up in blankets as you soaked up the fireplace’s warm heat. You gazed out the window, aweing at the view you were looking at. So simple yet so breathtaking.

Tom had gotten up from his position next to you to make some hot tea for the both of you, his mum’s old recipe. It hadn’t already been that long but you already missed his body heat keeping you warm as you lay on him, savoring every moment with the man you love. ‘The Polar Express’ played in the background as you shifted your attention between the movie and your surroundings every once in a while, having all the lines memorized since you were a little girl.

A few minutes go by and you start to wonder what’s taking Tom so long. “Tommy?” You call out and hear the sound of a clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen, startling you. You call out once more, “Tom, are you okay?”. No answer, yet you hear his footsteps walking closer towards you.

“Sorry, Darling, I was just having a bit of trouble with the mugs” Tom lightly chuckles, but it sounded irregular. You brush it off as he goes adjust something in the fireplace, but you don’t take much notice. Little did you know, Tom was setting his phone up to record what was about to happen.

Tom lightly jogs to the kitchen to get the tray carrying your tea and his as well, walking back towards you. You give him a warm smile as he sets the tray down on the table in front of the couch, arms wrapping around him to give him a small ‘thank you’ kiss.

You pull away and Tom stands up, rubbing his hands together as he stared out the window, trying to stop his heart from beating out of his chest. This is it. You sit up and stretch your resting body, in order to be able to drink your tea without spilling it all over yourself.

Tom picks up the tray again and motions it towards you, “Here y’go, love”. You take your tea but as you do, a small velvet burgundy box reveals itself from where your mug was hiding it. No, it can’t be. You furrow your eyebrows as you stare at the box, then at Tom, then the box, then Tom before Tom picks up the box and sets the tray back down.

Your eyes are wide as the tea begins to shake because of your unstable hand, your heart pounding inside your chest. “Tom” you mumble, almost in disbelief, eyes not leaving the box. Tom licks his lips, as your eyes meet his, and kneels down in front of you. He takes the tea from your shaking hand and sets it down on the tray again, taking your hands in his.

“Y/N, Darling, I love you” Tom starts, feeling more nervous than he ever has before. “I love you too, Tom” You barely whisper, your voice wavering. Tom smiles softly at you, bringing your hands up to his lips and leaving a kiss on them before rubbing lightly.

Tom let’s out a shaky breath, before his eyes meet your already watery ones. “Honestly, I bought this ring eight months ago and I’ve just been waiting for the perfect moment to give it to you. But I realized that as long as it’s you I’m giving it to, as long as it’s you who I get to spend the rest of my life with, then it doesn’t matter because every moment I spend with you is perfect.”

Tears escape your eyes and you sniffle, watching as Tom’s eyes tear up and nose turns red. “I want to wake up everyday next to you and know that whatever I go through, you’re there with me, and wherever you go through, I’ll always be there with you” He continues.

“Wanna have mini Y/N’s and Tom’s running around us, wanna spend every snow storm with you exactly like this, wanna grow old with you” Tom chuckles lightly, making a small giggle leave your mouth between your tears. A few tears leave his eyes as both of you are full of anticipation, so scared yet so ready.

“I wanna grow old with you too” You sniffle, your cheeks streamed with tears as Tom looks at you like you were the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid his eyes on. “Thank god, otherwise this would’ve just been embarrassing” Tom jokes, his British accent heavy, making you laugh.

“Y/N” Tom says quietly as you gaze into his loving eyes. “Yes” You manage to squeak out, knowing this is it. Tom rests one of his knees on the ground, so that he’s down on one knee now. He opens the velvet box, your hands going to cover your mouth to muffle a small gasp that escapes your lips.

The ring was gorgeous. It was a light and delicate wedding ring with three small diamonds shining brightly. It was understated and minimalist in a classy way. Anyone could see why Tom chose it for you, it was fitted you. It was your dream ring, the type of ring a girl puts in her shared wedding scrapbook with her best friend when they’re eight years old.

“Will you marry me?” Tom finally asks and you nod, “Yes! Yes, of course I’ll marry you!” You giggle lightly as tears stream down your cheeks. Tom smiles widely, slipping the ring into your ring finger and both of you smile as it fits perfectly. You immediately get up and throw yourself into Tom’s arms, one his hands going to the back of your head and pushing his lips against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck as Tom wraps your legs around his waist, getting up to lay on the couch with you on top of him, never breaking the deep kiss you were sharing. Both of you pull away with huge smiles on your face before Tom pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly.

“Mrs. Y/N Holland, hmm” He mumbles into your neck and you pull your face away from his shoulder. Tom reaches a hand to wipe your tears before you lean in to slowly kiss him once more, “Sounds perfect”.

And when Tom posts a muted clip from the video, the whole world goes crazy at this adorable proposal, and your wedding ring which you post a picture of not that long after. You were finally marrying your best friend, the love of your life, your person.

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infinitefandomimagines · 3 years

Text

Scarred - Zuko x Reader

WARNINGS: ARGUING, BURN SCARS, ANGST

REQUEST: zuko x reader where the reader is the last one to forgive zuko at the western air temple bc he accidentally hurt her in the crystal catacombs and than zuko goes to her tent, begging for forgiveness and she shows him the scar he gave her and it’s super fluffy:33

"Y/N. . . what do you say?" All eyes landed on you, waiting for your response to Aang's question. However, there was only one pair of eyes in particular you glared back at; and if looks could kill, the recently renounced Fire Nation prince in front of you would've surely met his demise right then. But Zuko knew how to hold himself in front of those who wanted to intimidate him. If there was anything his father taught him, it was that much.

Despite your fiery stare and previous threats from the first time he pleaded for forgiveness that you'd "knock him on his ass" if he ever came near you again, he kept his composure. There was no doubt in his mind you'd stay true to that warning, which is why he made sure to keep enough distance between the two of you.

There was a hopeful gleam in his eyes, so far Aang, Sokka, Katara, and Toph had agreed to let him join the team, albeit some more hesitantly than others. If everyone else found it in their hearts to forgive and forget, surely you could as well. Wrong.

"No."

You saw the last bit of hope fizzle from his eyes as defeat weighed down on him, causing his shoulders to sink and his head to drop. "I know you don't trust me, I don't blame you. I've done horrible things, hurt you and your friends-"

"You can't even begin to imagine the amount of pain you've caused me!" Your words held a venomous sting, yet your tone was strained, calm almost.

"Y/N," Katara stepped up behind you, her voice was soft. You could barely feel the hand she'd placed on your left shoulder, thick and itchy bandages blocking her attempt at comfort. "I don't like it either, but Aang needs to learn fire bending."

"I really believe he's changed, give him a chance to-"

You cut Aang off, finally breaking your gaze from Zuko to face the young monk. "He's already had too many chances!"

No one could admit that you were wrong, not even Zuko. Because every time he'd faught against your little group of rag-tag heroes, you'd given him a chance. Even while the rest of team avatar faught the exiled prince, you never threw a single blow that wasn't defensive or to save your friends. Instead, you'd offer him a chance to join the right side. Of course, he never accepted, but you saw the benefits of your kindness when he'd began to show a sense of mercy against you. There was something in your head telling you he was more than just a villain.

But that mindset changed when you and the gang faught against him and his sister in the crystal catacombs. When Aang almost died. When he chose the Fire Nation's side. When he'd made sure to leave you a permanent reminder of that day.

After a few moments of tense silence, you let out an impatience scoff. "Leave, Zuko. I gave you my answer, the least you can do is respect it."

Reluctantly, he nodded, mumbling out an apology before turning on his heels. He only got in a few steps before Aang interjected.

"Zuko, stop."

He did, glancing over his shoulder, ready to hear what Aang had to say.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but Zuko is staying. I need need to learn fire bending and he's my only option. I really believe he's changed for the better."

"You don't have to forgive him, but Aang's right, we need him," Sokka added in, to which Toph agreed.

You took in their words, it was obvious they weren't up for debate. You hated that they were right, you all did need Zuko, no matter your current opinion on him.

"Fine," you sighed, looking at Zuko, who was now standing awkwardly with his hands behind his back. "But stay away from me."

Over the next few days, Zuko had somehow managed to gain the complete and utter trust of everyone, even Katara. Everyone except you. Then again, you hadn't had your "life changing field trip with Zuko" that made everyone seemingly forget about everything he'd ever done to them. Field trip or not, earning your trust wasn't going to be that easy. You didn't care how many times he made everybody tea and told cringey jokes.

"Where did you learn to make so many different types of tea?" Aang inquired, causing everyone to look at Zuko, wanting to hear his answer.

Zuko returned to his seat around the fire between Toph and Aang, finally finished handing out small cups of tea. "My uncle, it's his favorite thing to make, he even owned a tea shop at one point."

"You mean the one you betrayed," you deadpanned coldly. You flicked your eyes up from the warm cup of tea in your hands to Zuko, wanting to see his reaction.

His smile faultered, and katara shot a disapproving look at you. For a second you felt guilty, maybe that was too far. He looked genuinely hurt by your comment, but soon another emotion took over his features. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw and sat up straighter.

"Yeah. That one." His tone was one of poorly restrained bitterness, you'd definitely struck a nerve.

You hummed in response, refusing to break eye contact with him, like you were challenging him to say something equally as cold, but he didn't take the bait. Instead, he took a deep breath, just like his uncle taught him.

"I don't get it," He asked, frustrated and fed up with your snarky comments and side eyes. "Everyone else trusts me, why can't you?"

"You really have to ask?"

Katara could feel the tension and awkwardness of the impending argument hanging over everyone. This wasn't the time nor place to be having this conversation.

"I think now would be a good time for another healing session," she interjected, giving you a look that informed you she wasn't exactly asking. With a frustrated huff, you stood up and made your way to your tent, not even waiting for Katara to follow.

You plopped down onto your sleeping bag, sitting with your left side towards the opening.

Katara was there in a few minutes, holding a medium sized bowl of water in her hands. She gently set it down on the ground, taking a seat on your sleeping bag as well, facing your left side.

You tugged your left sleeve down so you could free it. With your shoulder now exposed, she carefully removed the bandages that covered your shoulder and the side of your neck, revealing the red and scarred skin hidden underneath.

"How does it look?" You asked, attempting to ignore the itchy feeling of the fresh air hitting your wound.

"It's healing, slowly" she answered as she conjured the water from the bowl and molded it with her hands. She purified the liquid, causing it it glow. Slowly, she lowered it until the cool water molded over your injured skin. You clenched your teeth and whimpered at the sudden sting the contact made, but then Katara started making circular motions with her hands, beginning the healing process. The stinging pain soon morphed into a comforting cold and relieving sensation.

Katara had done this for you and Aang multiple times since the gang escaped from that wretched crystal catacomb. As much progress as your skin had made in healing, you couldn't seem to wipe the painful memories of how you'd recieved such a wound from your mind. You could remember the events so vividly it was as if they'd happened yesterday.

You were stalling, Zuko and Azula knew that, yet they didn't seem to mind. If anything, Azula enjoyed watching you struggle to give your friends more time. You needed to stall them long enough for Aang to fully enter the avatar state, that's all.

"Come on, Zuko, you know what needs to be done!" Azula coaxed.

"No! You still have a chance Zuko, you can still make this right!" You could see the conflict rising in him as you and Azula tugged at his morals.

There was a moment, a single second where his emotions betrayed him, where you could see how badly he wanted to go with you and the gang. But it was gone just as fast as it came.

"I will kill the avatar and restore my honor, as well as my rightful place beside my father!" He launched into action, sending overpowering blows your way.

He kept you distracted and unable to help your friends long enough for Azula to strike down Aang. Your head snapped towards Katara's screams and you saw him laying there, completely unconscious.

You were distracted, and Zuko impulsively took advantage, sending a blast of orange and red flames towards you.

In all honesty, he expected you to dodge it, you always did without fail. But this time you were too distracted, too concerned with Aang, and he caught you completely off guard. You didn't even realize you were being attacked until the flames painfully scorched your skin.

You let out a horrifying scream as you crumbled to your knees, your shaky hand hovering over your left shoulder as you tried to control your instinct to grab it, knowing it would only hurt worse. You clenched your teeth together, biting back tears as you whipped your head around go see Zuko.

He looked shocked, remorseful even, but that didn't stop anger from edging its way into your glare.

You shuddered at the memory and tried to shake it from your head completely.

"You're all done," Katara said, maneuvering the water back into the bowl. A dull ache returned to your wound, but it felt significantly better than before.

"Thanks, Katara," you mumbled.

"Do you need help rewrapping the bandages?"

You shook your head, preferring to be alone and do the difficult task by yourself. Katara seemed to understand, because she didn't push the issue like she usually would. Instead, she left you with a few words.

"What you said was too far tonight, you should really apologize to Zuko, he is trying you know?"

She didn't wait for a response, not that you planned on giving much of one anyway, but soon you were alone, relishing in the peaceful silence.

But your silence didn't last long, just a few minutes after Katara left there was a whispering voice just outside your tent. It was unmistakable who'd come to visit you, and with great reluctance did you let him in.

"What do you want?" you asked, annoyance filling your voice. You refused to make eye contact with the boy, opting to stare at the mess of tangled bandages in your hands.

Your question was met with silence, that only seemed to worsen your mood. Really? He invades your tent just to ignore your one question? This guy was just unbelievable!

You could feel yourself loosing your temperature once again. "I said, what do you-" Your head snapped up at Zuko, ready to tell him off. But you froze when you saw his gaze, and how it held your figure. His jaw was slack, and his eyes swam as tears pooled at his lash-line. But his eyes never met yours. No, his focus was completely on the uncovered scar that graced your left side.

Your shoulder had taken most of the impact, just shy of being completely colored with a dull red scar. But the wound didn't stop there, covering a decent portion of your shoulder blade. The red marking also stretched up in a jagged stripe, narrowing to a point on the side of your neck, just barely marking your cheek.

You hated how you shuddered under his gaze, and had to look away. Your fingers moving faster as your tried to unravel the tangled bandage. You wanted to cover the burned area as soon as possible.

"I- I did that." It wasn't a question. He spoke purely in matter-of-fact statements, he knew exactly where you'd received your mark from.

"Yeah." You said sharply, picking up the bandage and moving to re-wrap the large wound.

"I . . . I am so sorry-"

"You've said."

Re-wrapping the affected area was proving to be more difficult than you'd thought, especially in your heightened state or frustration. Usually Katara did this part, and you were starting to regret sending her away.

"Please, let me help you," Zuko pleaded, reaching a shaky hand out to grasp at the bandage in your grip. You immediately flinched away from him, the sudden movement sending a sharp pain through your left side.

"Stay away from me!" You bit at him.

Zuko immediately pulled his hand back from you, as if he'd burned you unintentionally for a second time. "I'm sorry," he impulsively spilled out.

"Would you stop saying that? Stop apologizing, nothing is going to make me- ow!" Your own pain cut your sentence short, the sharp pain returning, sending another shock wave up your side at your frustrated movements.

"I'm so- just, please, let me help you and then I'll leave you alone, I promise."

You took a moment to think about the offer, and as much as you didn't want his help, the promise for him to leave is what enticed you to agree. So reluctantly, you handed him the bandages and positioned yourself closer to him, allowing Zuko to access your wound and wrap it with ease.

With slow movements, Zuko began wrapping the burned area. His touch was suprisingly gentle, even more so than Katara's, something you hadn't thought possible. But even with his feather-like touch, your skin still twitched as his fingers and the bandages made contact with the more sensitive areas. Zuko muttered out small apologies each time you flinched, despite your earlier message to stop that. Though the skin had begun the early stages of scarring, it was still sensitive.

"Uh, d-did I ever tell you how I got my scar?" Zuko asked suddenly, not even bothering to look up from his task. You knew what he was doing, he'd been doing things like that since he got here, trying to make small talk with you to cover up the awkward tension. You usually never entertained it, but for some reason tonight you felt intrigued by his question.

"No." You answered shortly, trying your best not to show your growing interest. You'd always been curious about the scar.

"My father gave it to me," he stated, oddly calmly. It was almost mindless the way he told the story as he continued to carefully wrap up your injury. Like the memory had become second nature to tell.

"Oh," you whispered out softly, your mind buzzing with a million different ways to respond to him, yet none of them felt right.

"I spoke out of turn during a meeting, over a general. They wanted to sacrifice an entire division of fire nation soldiers to gain the advantage. But I-," He swallowed thickly. ". . . I thought that was wrong so I spoke up."

You nodded ever so slightly, letting out a soft hum, showing that you were still listening and waiting for him to continue. At this point Zuko had finished wrapping the bandages around your burn, allowing you to turn your body to face him fully.

"My father was furious with my disrepect towards the general. He said that the dispute would need to be resolved with an agni kai, and I accepted. And when the day came I thought I'd be fighting the general I interrupted, but then my father walked out, my agni kai was to be against him."

With each word you felt your heart grow heavier and ache for the boy you swore you hated. You were beginning to question whether you genuinely hated him or if what you truly felt was left over betrayal and anger.

"How old were you?" You finally asked the question that had been bouncing around your head since he began the story.

"Thirteen, not long before I was banished."

You felt yourself boil with anger, but for once it wasn't directed towards the boy in front of you. No, you were furious with the Fire Lord. Who could do that to someone? To a child. Zuko must not have noticed the way your jaw clenched and your fists tightened into balls, because he continued the story as if he hadn't just made your heart drop into your stomach with his answer.

"I didn't want to fight my father, I couldn't. But he took my refusal as another sign of disrespect. I begged for his forgiveness, but he wouldn't hear it. He claimed that I would learn my lesson through suffering. He raised his hand just in front of my face and then he-"

His voice caught in his throat with a crack as he visibly grimaced from the sheer memory of the event. Instinctively, you reached out for his hand, placing yours over top of his much larger one. Now it was his turn to flinch at the sudden contact.

"Zuko, it's okay, you don't have to tell me this, I understand-"

"No! I do! I need you to understand that I never meant to hurt you! I need you to know that the last thing I wanted was for you to feel the same pain I did. After what my father did, I never wanted to inflict that on anyone. I knew that pain and yet I still hurt you . . . the one person who actually believed I could change!"

His hands flew into the air as his frustrated yells of regret were lost to the silent night. He then exasperatedly brought his arms back down and dropped his head into the palms of his hands. His body shook as he took in deep breaths, trying his best not to shed any tears. He was just so frustrated with himself.

"I thought you would dodge it," His muffled whimpers poured out. "You always dodged it."

It was then that you realized how cold you'd been to the boy. You were so caught up in your own hurt and anger, only concerned with making him feel as horrible as you had with your hurtful words. Not once had you considered that he was already kicking himself ten times harder for the pain he'd caused you. He really hadn't meant to hurt you.

And that's when you did something unexpected. In an impulsive attempt to comfort him, you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him in to a hug. His breath hitched, obviously shocked by the gesture, his body going stiff.

"I understand now, I forgive you, Zuko."

At those seven words he melted into your embrace, returning it as he wrapped his arms around your figure. His chin now rested on top of your good shoulder, as he was being extra cautious as to not press on your burns.

"And I'm sorry, for what I said about you and your uncle. He'd be proud of you."

His grip on you tighten, mumbling out a 'thank you,' in the process, finally feeling as though he could fully begin healing from all the wrong he'd done.

TAGLIST: @theepartygetsmewetter

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imaginesandbandfiction · 2 years

Text

Harry Styles — Falling

Fine Line Series Part 9

Masterlist

Forget What I Said, It’s Not What I Meant

A few weeks had passed before Gemma had enough. She barged into her brother’s room one night in the middle of January, scanning her eyes across the room, across all of the discarded clothes, takeaway containers, and empty bottles, until she spotted her brother huddled into the covers with a beer in one hand and his phone in the other.

“You can’t keep doing this, Harry,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Doing what?” He asked, taking a sip of his beer.

“This.” She gestured at him, drinking beer in bed at 7 pm on a Thursday night, and then at the piles of empty beer bottles strewn about his room. “Drinking beer and brooding. It’s sad.” Harry burrowed himself deeper into the covers.

“I’m sad.” His voice wavered and it reminded her of when he was just a little boy, seeking comfort from his big sister for a skinned knee or the awful words of a schoolyard bully.

“Oh, Harry.” Gemma’s gaze softened as she crossed the room and sat down on the edge of his bed, taking the half-full beer from his hands and setting it aside. She pulled him into a hug, and a tsunami of feelings hit him. He let it all out in earth-shattering sobs, letting the full weight of his sadness take over fully. Gemma brushed the hair on his forehead back and ran her hands through it to try and calm him down. When the sobbing had trickled off into quiet tears, Gemma spoke again.

“What happened, Haz?” she asked. “Mum thinks it’s about Y/N.”

“I fucked up, Gem,” he said, voice breathy and shaky. “I fucked up, and she left, and I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“It’ll be okay, Harry, I promise.”

“I dunno. She seems okay now. Was in the tabloids with that Rafe Kingsley prick, at a gallery opening in LA.”

“You gotta stop reading that trash! Remember when the Sun thought you were having an affair with Tilda Swinton?” She cuffed him under his chin, playfully, which made him laugh a little. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, squeezing them shut to block the tears from falling again.

“Have you talked to her? Told her how you feel?” Gemma asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Not since Tokyo,” he mumbled, looking down at his lap.

“The only way you’ll ever make things right is if you do.”

“You didn’t see how mad she was.

“What did you do?”

“I, um, well, my PR team had the entire crew sign NDAs about our relationship and I didn’t do anything to stop it.”

“Tell her you’re sorry, tell her you’ll make it up to her, write her a song, do whatever it takes. Because if you really love her, and she really loves you, you can get past this and your relationship will be stronger for it.” He sniffled and nodded, knowing that she was right. More brooding was not the answer, however enticing it was.

“Thanks, Gem.”

___

After the talk with his sister, he felt refreshed and determined. He gave her a copy of the NDA and she helped him come up with a plan. He gathered his notebook and the various scraps of paper he had written on throughout the tour, and spent a week at W Mandeville Bakery, drinking cup after cup of coffee and eating the pastries his old boss Simon brought to his table while he scribbled down lyrics and rearranged what he had already written, pouring out his love for you.

He only meant to write one song, but he had so many memories and ideas it turned into nine different songs, some more complete than others, but there was one that he was most excited about and he was itching to play it for you.

A month before the second European leg of the tour, he flew back to LA to start preparing. As soon as he landed at LAX, he texted you.

The message came through while you were at work, making your heart race, even though it was a simple Hi.

Hi, you responded after waiting an appropriate amount of time, so as not to seem desperate.

I’m back in LA and I’d really like to see you if that’s okay.

Sure

My place tonight? 7? I’ll send a car for you.

Okay.

And that was how you found yourself standing on the doorstep of Harry’s house in LA, two months after you had stormed out of his hotel room. Your heart was racing, and you hesitated for a moment before ringing the doorbell, hoping that this wasn’t a mistake.

“Hi,” he breathed, as soon as he opened the door. You could see the relief melting off his face as he smiled shyly at you. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

“I wasn’t sure, either,” you replied, scratching the back of your neck nervously.

“Well, come in.” Harry stepped aside and motioned you inside. “I’ve got a bottle of wine open in the kitchen.”

He led you to the kitchen and poured you a glass of wine, which you took gratefully. You stood, leaning against the counter, taking slow sips as you waited for him to talk. He stood across from you, in front of the fridge.

“I missed you,” he said.

“Missed you, too,” you

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I shouldn’t have gone along with the NDAs, at least without asking you first.”

“It’s okay.” You bit your lip and looked down at your feet,

“It’s not okay. I’m so used to being treated like a product that I just sat there and let them make a big decision about our relationship. I love you, Y/N, and I want to tell the whole world. Because this is real to me, we are real, and I don’t want to go back on tour without you.”

You were quiet for a minute, letting his words sink in.

“I love you too, Harry. But you really hurt me, and it’s going to take some time before I can trust you again.”

“I understand. We can take it slow, start fresh, and we’ll tell people on your terms.” You nodded and took a tentative step towards him. He stepped forward too, meeting you in the middle.

“What about the NDAs?” you asked, looking up at him.

“They’re only valid until the end of the tour,” he said, “after that, it’s over. This whole stupid thing is over, and I can take you on a proper date, somewhere where everyone can see.”

“Well, maybe not everyone,” you said with a laugh. “I do really appreciate how much you want to protect me from the paparazzi. I don’t think I realized, before, just how much you did to prevent that.”

“I did it for you. Maybe I went about it the wrong way, but I’m used to being followed and having my picture splashed all over the tabloids. Especially in my relationships. My PR team has exploited them in the past and this was too real, too sacred. I didn’t want them to spoil it.”

His eyes were downcast, full of regret, and you felt your chest tighten. It was easy to forget that Harry wasn’t always the confident, cheeky guy that strutted across every stage as if he owned it and that he was vulnerable, could make mistakes. You launched yourself into his arms, pressing your lips to his. It felt familiar, safe, and yet exciting and new at the same time. He pulled away too quickly for your liking, resting his forehead on yours.

“Don’t wanna get too carried away,” he said with a smirk. “Seeing as we’re going slow, and all.”

“We don’t have to go that slow,” you said, leaning in to kiss him again. He indulged you for a minute before breaking your lips apart, leaving you pouting.

“Okay, but there’s something I want you to hear first.” You nodded, intrigued, and let him lead you to his living room, where he picked up an acoustic guitar and started to strum. You settled into the couch to listen.

“It’s not finished yet,” he warned, “but I started working on a new album while I was home, and I just couldn’t wait to show you this one.”

“Sunflower, Sunflower, My eyes, want you more than a melody. Let me inside, Wish I could get to know you,” he sang, voice soft and full of love. Tears welled up behind your eyes as you listened and caught on to all of the memories he had put into the song.

“D’you like it?” he asked when he finished, standing with the guitar still in his arms and looking at you with shining eyes.

“Love it,” you answered, padding across the carpet to help him take the guitar off of his body. Once it was safely on the stand, you tackled him onto the couch, kissing him hard and fast, lips sliding, hands wandering, a familiar dance you had missed more than you’d ever admit. You felt Harry smile against your lips as he returned the kiss with equal passion.

The ache in your chest that had become a permanent fixture of your life over the past month disappeared and a new feeling of hope settled in its place. You felt lighter, happier, and ready to go back on tour with the man you loved.

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introvert--weeb · 3 years

Note

Can I ask for a request for draken who has a crush on fem reader who’s the half baby sister of hakkai and yuzuha and she’s practically the princess of toman and no matter how many times he tries to approach her she’s always nervous (kinda like her brother) of being around him b/c she has a huge crush on him and she plans on confessing to him but she sees someone else confessing to him and she gets pretty sad and after that a rival gang notices she’s the princess of toman and decide to harass/hurt her and she ends up in the hospital, draken finds out and is pissed b/c of what happened and he ends up finding the guys who hurt her and he and the others beat the crap out of them after that he ends up confessing to her at the hospital and it ends in fluffy fluff:3

Hi anon! Thank you for the request! I really hope you enjoy it!!

Draken X f!reader (angst to fluff)

TW: mentions of injury, hospitalisation, violence

You could remember the moment you had fallen for the Vice President of Toman. Draken. He had instantly taken your heart and he was all you ever thought about these days.

Being the baby sister of Hakkai (although not fully), you were really close to the lanky male. In fact, you followed him like his much smaller shadow when he would attend Toman meetings. With how often you had turned up alongside the Second Division Vice Captain, you had been adopted as the Princess of Toman. Your cute looks and innocent persona had made everyone feel the need to keep you safe from harm.

Especially Draken. He would even kill a man if it meant you would be safe and happy. The poor boy had developed deep feelings for you, so deep that he would even claim it to be love. This had gone way past a simple infatuation.

To anyone with eyes, they could see how you both were obviously in love with the other but your interactions were awkward to say the least.

Just like your older brother, you had a hard time communicating with the opposite gender. Not so much with Mitsuya or Mikey but anyone else would be victim to your shyness. Stuttering and soft words were evident whenever someone had tried to talk to you apart from those you knew.

Over time, you had gotten better with your shyness with other members of Toman, becoming especially close to Angry (Souya) as you both seemed to be similar. The only person you couldn't talk a single syllable to was Draken.

Draken had tried multiple times to talk to you, to get to know you. But each attempt was met with failure. As soon as he would get close enough to start a conversation with you, you would become flustered. A deep blush took over your face and ears before you would run off to find Hakkai. Ken was confused as he had hardly gotten a simple 'hi' before you had disappeared.

You didn't mean to seem rude. You just felt like your heart would explode if you remained in his presence longer than a few seconds to a minute. He was just so cool and perfect that you had convinced yourself he was way out of your league. But maybe one day you would get the confidence to at least allow your feelings to be known to the tall blond.

That day had finally come. You had finally gathered enough confidence to confess your strong feelings for Ken Ryuguji. Yuzuha had helped you practice what you would say while she dolled you up. She had picked out a cute black skirt with a f/c shirt that went perfectly. Cute is what you thought when you had examined yourself in the body length mirror. Hopefully Draken would think so too.

After another run through with what you would say, Yuzuha handed you your small bag which contained your wallet and phone. You thanked her for all her help before heading to where you knew Draken and Mikey would be. After all, it was lunch time.

It didn't take you long to reach the café, your hands fiddling with the hem of your skirt as you approached nearer. This was it. You were finally going to tell him how you feel and you would find out if he felt the same. If he did, great...if he didn't, you would have to accept it.

Pushing the door open, you were frozen to the spot at the sight that greeted you. At the table where Draken and Mikey were sat, there was a girl who was talking to the vice president. Silently approaching closer, you had caught the words that tumbled out of her mouth.

"I really like you Ryuguji-kun! Please accept my confession!"

That's it. Your world crumbled around you. You were too late. Too naive to believe you were the only one who saw how amazing Draken was. And due to your shyness, you had missed out on telling him your feelings.

Your body had gone into auto pilot as you ran out of the café, tears falling rapidly down your cheeks. How could you be so stupid? Of course Draken wouldn't like someone as awkward as you! He needed someone who was strong and had enough confidence in themselves. Someone the complete opposite of you.

You had been wandering the streets aimlessly for an hour now. All your tears had been shed and you felt empty. You didn't want to head home yet. Not while you were still wallowing.

"Oh hey! It's Toman's princess!" A strange voice called out somewhere behind you. How did they know that nickname? Did everyone know you as this? That you would have to guess was the case as it wasn't long until you were surrounded by high school kids.

You didn't know what to do. You could try to fight but you only knew a little self defense. Thinking about it, you really should have asked Mitsuya or Mikey or even Hakkai to teach you how to fight.

Within moments, before you could truly react, the gang had descended upon you with kicks and punches, knocking the air from your lungs. You had tried to fight back, even succeeding in landing a punch or two on your opponents. However, it only angered them more and the beating intensified.

The gang had left you alone when you could barely stay awake. Your body lay battered on the concrete, bruises and broken bones making themselves known. Maybe it was your lack of energy or maybe it was the intensity of the pain, but your mind had shut itself down causing you to pass out.

The next Toman meeting was that night. Everyone had gathered together at the usual shrine, parking their bikes and engaging in conversations until Mikey would begin his announcements.

Draken was in a pretty foul mood that night. Having received that confession from that girl had really put him on edge. Of course he had rejected her feelings, knowing his heart belonged to Toman's princess. Speaking of Y/N, where was she?

Hakkai had pulled up at the shrine, his face showing just how devastated he felt. Always one to wear his heart on his sleeve after all. He was blaming himself for not being able to protect his baby sister from the fate she had encountered.

Noticing that the lanky boy was on his own, Draken went over to ask about where you were as you never missed a meeting. Hakkai just shook his head, mumbling that he had explained the situation to Taka-chan and Mikey already so he should ask them if he wanted to find out. It wasn't that Hakkai was being rude, he was just emotionally exhausted from having to explain it twice already.

Panic set in Ken's gut but he had no reason why. You were surely safe, right? After all, you would follow Hakkai everywhere and he would protect you with his last breath if needed.

It was during Mikey's announcements that Draken had found out about you being in hospital, placed under a medical coma to help your recovery. No-one knew when and if you would wake up. This news caused Ken's heart to drop to his stomach but also for immense rage to ignite in his chest. He would find the gang that had hurt his princess and make them pay.

Draken along with the rest of Toman had found the gang responsible for your condition within days of your hospitalisation. A huge brawl had occurred which lasted maybe 5 minutes at most. Draken had left no-one conscious, taking his anger out on the scum that dared harm what was his.

Everyone in Toman had decided to visit you once the brawl was over and you were properly avenged. Everyone simply watched as your chest rose and fell with each breath, the only indication you hadn't passed on yet. Draken felt his throat get clogged by the tears and sobs he was holding back. He was the tough vice president after all. He couldn't afford to look weak.

Weeks passed by with Ken spending his time at your bedside, waiting for any sign that you would wake up. He missed seeing your e/c eyes that he could stare into forever. He missed your cute giggles he would hear when you joked around with Angry. He missed you.

Unable to help himself, Draken allowed a few tears to escape past his eyes and roll down his cheek. "Please wake up Y/N. I love you, and I will tell you that everyday when you are back," and with those words, Ken leaned forward to gently brush his lips against yours.

Just like how it happened in fairy tales, your eye lids began to flutter open as Draken pulled back. The poor boy didn't notice you were awake until your hand (which he clutched tightly in his own) began to move slightly. In disbelief, Draken moved his teary gaze to your face where you were smiling back at him. Your cheeks had begun to heat up once you realised that your crush was holding your hand.

"YOU'RE AWAKE!" Ken was so loud that you had to shush him, your voice laced with giggles. Draken was just so happy that you were awake and looking OK that he pulled your face closer to his. Before you knew it, your lips were covered by another pair in a harsh but love filled kiss.

You must have died and gone to heaven, you convinced yourself. Due to that thought, you had the confidence to kiss back, even lifting your hand on his bicep. It was the best feeling you could ever hope to know. Heaven was surely amazing.

"I love you... I love you... I love you..." Draken muttered against your lips in between the soft pecks he was now leaving on you. He was so happy that you had kissed back, almost confirming you felt the same for the blond.

"I love you too..." Your breath came out as a long sigh, your voice dreamy and filled with all your feelings. Ken moved away from your face and relaxed back in the chair he occupied, a grin plastered on his face.

You were finally beginning to focus on where you were. Beeping machines, wires connected to your arm, the distinctive smell of disinfectants. You weren't in heaven after all. You were alive and in the hospital. It was only then that you had realised you had kissed your crush and told him you loved him too.

All the confidence you seemed to have evaporated in an instant. You were left a tomato red and stuttering so much that no words could come up. You had actually confessed and kissed Ken Ryuguji...

It was 2 weeks later when you were discharged from the hospital, accompanied by bandages around your ribs and your new boyfriend. "Make sure you're ready for our date tomorrow babe," Draken whispered in your ear, causing shivers to travel down your spine.

This boy was going to be the death of you.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers #ken ryuguji x reader #ken ryuguji #draken x reader #draken #requested #angst with a happy ending

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todoscript · 3 years

Photo

SEQUEL TO “don’t forget it”

SYNOPSIS: One week after accidentally blowing you off on your date, Bakugou Katsuki seeks your forgiveness.

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

genre: fluff, very little angst

word count: 5.4k+

warnings: none really accept maybe a character sustaining an injury

author’s note: hellooooo this is a very very very late part 2 of my don’t forget it drabble that many people asked for! i hope this lived up to your expectations and was worth the wait!

Since the events that led you to leave Bakugou’s room in a fit of bitterness after attempting to penetrate that thick head of his, he hadn’t been able to speak to you for a week.

It goes without saying he did his best to chase you down the hallway from his room and toward the elevator the moment he realized his faults. But at the stink eye you shot him through the minimizing slit of the elevator doors sliding into place, he knew he had no right to reconcile with you after pulling a stunt like that. Nor did he think you’d want to spare him any more words to begin with. It was clear you were done arguing with him.

“C’mon man, it’s probably best to let her cool down before you try to make up with her,” was the advice Kirishima offered when Bakugou returned to his room, disgruntled as he heavily fell back into his seat next to the desk. He did the bare minimum to acknowledge his friend’s words with a grunt before resuming tutoring the redhead, his method of teaching suddenly harsher than how it began thanks to his soured mood. He lapsed the day away by pounding Kirishima with problems upon problems against that hard noggin of his, both literally and figuratively.

At the very least, Kirishima earned himself a passing grade on their exam as a result of his hard work and their rigorous tutoring sessions. But what followed Bakugou’s and your relationship was still undetermined.

Days later and you were relentless in giving him the cold shoulder.

Bakugou was met with nothing but empty glances and blatant disinterest whenever he crossed your path. It felt like the wall you slotted between him grew another layer at each encounter, your defenses so impenetrable, it could give Kirishima’s quirk a run for its money. He couldn’t so much as utter a word in your direction without you effectively dodging every possible interaction in favor of joining another conversation nearby.

At first, Bakugou shrugged it off, calling your “childish attitude” unwarranted for something he thought was incredibly trivial. In his eyes, it was just an ordinary date at some run-of-the-mill restaurant he just happened to suggest to you because he took a liking to their spicy food. Not like it was some fancy dinner reservation serving caviar on dry toast beside a pretty, city night skyline. To him, it was nothing special.

However, as the week continued to roll by, it became clear to him how much he hurt you due to his selfishness. In a hangout with the Bakusquad, he learned that you apparently told Mina, along with the rest of the girls, everything during one of your girls’ nights. Which included the events prior to your heated argument in Bakugou’s dorm. And Mina, being just as peeved as you were at how Bakugou stood you up that day, had to let the blond know of the damage he’d done.

“I swear, Bakugou Katsuki, I know you can be an asshole sometimes—”

“Make that all the time,” Sero quietly adds in the middle of Mina’s rant while he lounges backward on Kaminari’s bed. If it wasn’t for his current dilemma, Bakugou would have elbowed him in the back of the head.

“—but this is crossing the line!” she finishes. Her arms are thrown exaggeratedly over her chest. The amber surrounded by the black scleras of her eyes points a beady look at the ash-blond crisscrossed on the floor between Kirishima and Kaminari.

“Poor girl sat there for hours waiting for you, only to find out she got blown off because you couldn’t even properly check your reminders!” She paces back and forth in the room, feet excessively stepping across the floor as she’s engulfed by the emotions she feels for her friend. “What’s worse? She comes back and finds out you’ve been doing your own thing with Kirishima the whole time!”

“Hey! It’s not like we were playing around! We were actually having a very serious study grind, thank you very much,” the redhead immediately clarifies. Though his explanation doesn’t alleviate Bakugou’s case in the slightest, who pounds his palms against the surface of the table they’ve gathered around.

“Look. I fucking get it, Ashido. I screwed up, okay?! Now what the fuck do you want me to do about it?!” he exclaims, anger overpowering his voice, but it does little to deter Mina.

“Fix it, obviously!” she quips back with equal fierceness, leaning in eye level with Bakugou.

“And how do you propose I do that, Raccoon Eyes? Hah?” Repositioning his elbow to rest on the table, he leans his cheek against his hand. “Y/n won’t even let me within five fucking feet in front of her and you still expect me ‘fix this’?”

Despite the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders, no immediate answer is bestowed upon him. That is, except the obnoxiously loud crinkle of a chip bag popping open next to Bakugou that cleaves into the scene like a record scratch. As if unable to read the mood in his own room, Kaminari fishes a chip to throw in his mouth, stirring the awkward silence into tension.

“Wow, Bakugou. I know you’re bad with girls and all, but you really messed up this time,” he remarks. His voice is slightly muffled as he munches his chips, continuing to wrinkle the bag for more. It incites a vein to swell on Bakugou’s forehead. He amasses all the willpower within him not to blast the bag of chips to ash, and the boy alongside it.

“If you dunce faces are just gonna sit here and throw salt in my wound then I’m outta here.”

“No, wait!” Kirishima catches Bakugou’s wrist before he fully lifts himself off the floor. “Come on, Bakugou, I’m sure we can think of something! We just need to put our heads together! Right, guys?” he assures. Finding it hard to deny his friend’s hardened conviction, Bakugou gives Kirishima the benefit of the doubt, albeit with slumped shoulders and a tentative raise of his brow as he slowly sits back down.

“Right! Everyone, let’s get some brainstorming done!” Mina yells encouragingly.

The atmosphere of Kaminari’s room is consumed by moderately thoughtful silence for the next ensuing minutes. A few hums pass, followed by an exchange of contemplative looks as four of the five rack their heads together to uncover a solution. The one in need of help only hunches in his seat, waiting with mild disinterest.

“Oh hey, don’t we have hero training with All Might tomorrow?” Sero is the first to comment, scooting to the edge of the blond’s bed.

“Yeah. So?”

“He said we were going to work on group exercises this time around. You know, teamwork and stuff,” he explains further.

At that, Mina snaps her fingers, the work of a brilliant idea flickering in her head. “Sero, that’s it! Tomorrow, during training, we’ll just form a group together with Y/n! After all, she’ll have to talk to Bakugou if you two are on the same team!” She claps her hands in front of her, her enthusiasm rippling through her body and shown energetically with each raise of her voice. “Then, while the rest of us ‘split up’ to cover more ground, that will be your chance to make everything better with Y/n! It’s genius!”

“You missed one fucking crucial detail, Pinky,” Bakugou gruffs. “That will only work if Y/n doesn’t join another group. The moment she sees I’m on yours, she’s not even going to hesitate making a u-turn.”

“Worry not~ I’ll just text all the girls except Y/n about the plan later and ask them to help sort everyone out!” She solves the problem with relative ease—quick as a click of her phone lighting up and finger sliding open to her messages.

“Uh, another thing though.” Kirishima raises his hand to spare his concern. “All Might says we’ll be splitting into groups of five at most, but there’s already five of us here.”

There’s a brief moment of deadpanning until Mina speaks casually. “Oh, that’s right. Kaminari. Take one for the team and make sure to join another group, ‘kay?” She settles without batting a lash.

Kaminari almost chokes on a mouthful of chips. “H-Huh?! What?! Why me?!!” he sputters.

“Because you’ve been eating chips this entire time and haven’t contributed to anything.”

“Hey, I offered the room, didn’t I?!” He tries justifying but is inevitably rejected by Mina’s wagging finger.

“Ah-ah, no complaints! Besides, it’s only one day of training. If we want this dilemma between Bakugou and Y/n fixed then we all have to play our part, got it?” Mina finalizes with a firm point of her finger nearly grazing the tip of the blond’s nose as he leans back to avoid it, eyebrows scrunched in discontent at the role he’s been reduced to.

“Alllllright!” Kirishima springs from his seat with outstretched arms and tightened fists. “Operation: Get Y/n to Forgive Explosion Boy is underway!”

“Dude, that’s a terrible name!” Sero laughs but rises from the bed to join the redhead’s cheer alongside Mina, the group already in high spirits.

Despite rolling his eyes at their swell of confidence, Bakugou does not object to the state of things. As crazy as it sounds, one could almost decipher the cusp of a grin pulling the seams of his lips as a possible sign he’s actually all for this extravagant little plan. Quite a first for Bakugou, but then again, there’s not much else he can do in this situation except rely on his pack of chumps.

Meanwhile, Kaminari grumbles something beneath the salty grit between his teeth.

“Alright, can you all get out of my room now?”

The scowl etched on your face carries a strong air of disdain that dampens the mood around your teammates considerably. Well, no one should be surprised. With Bakugou standing across from you, staring into the void of your expression, it’s to be expected that you wouldn’t be happy with this outcome.

No, “unhappy” doesn’t quite do your circumstance justice. You are beyond livid.

You feel your eyebrow twitch as you try quivering your lips to form a tinge of a smile. Unfortunately, all that quickly falls apart when you suddenly recall the disaster of last week, triggered by an accidental glance at Bakugou’s mug.

Trying to simmer down, you release a mental sigh amidst the turmoil boiling inside you.

Okay, maybe you’re over-exaggerating. Maybe you’re still just a bit too bitter for your own good and letting your emotions get to you. But in a class of twenty or some students, how did you end up in a group with the one person you were actively trying to avoid?

The moment All Might gave everyone the go-ahead to form their teams for today’s training exercise, you swiftly made a beeline toward two particular star students. Midoriya and Todoroki.

It was simple really. Your experiences throughout the school year told you Bakugou planned on staying away from his rivals when it came to teamwork, regardless of whether you’re there or not. He’s a competitive ass whose goal is to beat anyone he deems a threat in his climb to be the number one hero. It’s only logical you partner with people he adamantly dislikes to evade him.

Yet it seems fate has other plans for you today. By the time you found yourself pacing over to the two students you had in mind, they’d already gone and picked their own group members, forming teams before you could even ask.

Your nose wrinkles like you’ve taken a whiff of something rancid. Or, to be more specific, something fishy. Hooking an arm around Mina’s elbow, you drag the pink-haired girl off to a corner somewhere while tilting your head back at the three other boys.

“Ex. Cuse. Us.” Your words sound as stiff as cardboard. It comes out in practically a hiss when your eyes cross Bakugou. Once you’re positive you’re out of earshot, you whip your head at Mina.

“Mina, what the hell? When you dragged me over here to form a group with you you didn’t tell me he’d be there,” you groan. Childish and petty as you may sound, you just couldn’t fathom the idea of confronting the boy so soon.

Mina holds her hands out, ready to rationalize the whole ordeal. “C’mon Y/n, this is actually an advantage for us! With us four plus you on our team, we’re sure to knock the rest of the other guys out during training today! I mean we showed pretty good teamwork together at the sports festival, didn’t we?”

Steadying your gaze, you hold a finger below your chin as you slowly buy into the explanation. The reasoning is there. It’s hard to argue against a case like that, fully aware that being on the same team as explosion boy will easily snag good results for you and your party. ‘Cause as much of an arrogant jerk as he is, you have to admit Bakugou Katsuki knows his way around hero action like the back of his grenade gauntlets.

“Besides it’s not like you could avoid him for the entire school year. I mean, you two are in the same class. It was only a matter of time before you had to—”

“I know, Mina,” you interject, not wanting the rest of her sentence about the inevitable fall to your ear. “I just… Agh, you know what I mean!” You ruffle your hands through your hair in confliction, unsure how to piece your thoughts together.

Tilting your head over Mina’s shoulder, you sneak a glimpse at Bakugou, watching him as he’s cast to the side with the others. He’s fending himself from Kirishima and Sero’s combined jokes, that usual look on his face sending glares at the two and yelling something you could almost pick up on if you honed your ears a bit more. Surprisingly, when his eyes meet yours for a split second, he stands there looking nonchalant again. Both of you immediately avert your gazes.

Mina pats your shoulder, bringing you back to the conversation at hand. “I know, I know, but after this, I’m sure you can go back to ignoring his ass. After all, it’s just one training exercise, right?” she says. As her words deliver some relief to your ill-timed situation, you give in with a sigh.

Unbeknownst to you, turning your back to Mina and striding toward the rest of your teammates again, you miss the small glint in her yellow eyes, along with the subtle gestures she aims at the three boys, waving her pointed thumbs over your head secretively.

“So I take it you’re on the team with us, Y/n?” Sero asks when the two of you return. You nod in reply and the boy flashes his pearly whites in a wide grin that Kirishima mirrors. He nudges Bakugou at his sides which you subtly catch in the far corner of your eye.

You raise a brow suspiciously at their fidgeting, wondering why having you on their team warrants such enthusiasm, but you’re thankful for their energy at least. Someone has to lift the atmosphere for this not to be a complete drag and Bakugou surely isn’t going to be the mood maker of the group.

The blond scoffs. “Yeah, well, if you dumbasses are going to form a team with me, you’ll follow under my leadership, got it?”

The three readily agree. Though you roll your eyes, you don’t challenge his position, considering no one else is that much up to the task as he is. You’ll simply have to deal with the fact that you’re forced to tread through the day under his leadership. So with no objections, the five of you walk back to the class, gathering around the entrance of today’s battlefield.

Jumping into the activity, All Might goes about explaining today’s lesson to the four sets of teams—consisting of a group exercise to heighten teamwork. The name of the game? Capture the flag.

In short, each team will be split off into different sections of the labyrinth where their assigned flag is stationed. The objective is to not only protect your flag from being stolen but also try and steal an opposing team’s flag from their base and escort it safely to your home field. Nice and simple.

Not long after All Might’s explanation, the gate to the training grounds opens and you all scatter off into your teams, navigating through the twists of the maze to locate your flags. Once your group situated themselves onto your home base, you assemble in a huddle to devise a strategy before the game starts.

“So what’s the plan?” Kirishima asks, eyes darting around his teammates until they rest on Bakugou—the team leader. The ash-blond crosses his arms, a confident sneer plastered on his face as he’s already thought of his plan of action the moment All Might announced the mission.

“Easy. I’m going straight to the front-lines to swipe one of those dumbasses’ flags. You lot are gonna stay here and guard ours until I come back.” He delivers the strategy in a matter-of-fact tone that you quickly don’t take a liking to. Your fist curls in irritation.

“What kind of a plan is that?” you question audaciously, your voice louder than you intended. “So you’re just going to do all the work while we sit around and wait for you?”

Bakugou grits his teeth, leaning further into the huddle to direct his senseless logic. “Look, it’s the fastest and most surefire way to snag our victory without sacrificing anyone,” he says. Playing over his words again, he finds it surprising he even chooses to offer his reasoning. Because if it were anyone other than you he was arguing with, he’s certain he’d leave it at that.

Knowing the current tension between you was a result of his misjudgment, it feels only right for Bakugou to make an effort in communication. He ignores the antsy expressions belonging to the others who signal from behind you to follow along with their original plan.

You don’t seem to catch the hint, nor do you buy into his ridiculous strategy. “Oh, so you’re that confident you won’t get taken out by the other team then?” you quip. As a result, Bakugou’s brows tighten at your noncompliance.

“I know how to take care of myself. You of all people should realize by now that no other nerd in this whole damn class can outmatch me.”

“And what about an ambush? How do you know they simply won’t anticipate your strategy and see you coming?” You fire another counterargument and the boy purses his lips, beginning to find this quarrel spiraling into a headache rather than a step in the direction of reconciliation.

While Sero and Kirishima stand there, shifting their heads back and forth throughout the fiery exchange, Mina speedily reacts. The gears of that cunning mind of hers click into place again.

“You know what, Y/n’s right. Why don’t you two go together then?” she proposes boldly. Her suggestion catches you by complete surprise. You veer in her direction with an incredulous look blown in your eyes.

Before you can open your mouth to protest, the two boys standing beside her immediately back her up.

“Hm, Mina has a point. The chances of you falling into a trap wouldn’t be much if you two work together,” Sero remarks.

Kirishima follows, “Yeah, you guys can watch each other’s backs while going to collect the flag! It’s safer to go in a pair than by yourselves I’d say.”

The three seem adamant about the idea, sharing equally content expressions, and with all that said, you find it hard to dig yourself out of this situation. In a way, you practically volunteered yourself after questioning Bakugou’s plan and doubting his abilities. The group only feels it’s right you come along as his support since you clearly must be worried about his well-being.

Pushing your objections down your throat, you reluctantly agree to tag along with the blond. What you find exceptionally shocking is how Bakugou doesn’t oppose these new conditions. Given his hard-headed temperament, you thought he would’ve scoffed and turned his back at being paired without notice, but no such things were happening here.

...Odd.

“Tch, whatever. Let’s get going then,” is all he gives, starting in the direction into the urban area of the training course.

You trail behind him. “Coming, Boom-Boy…” you mutter the last bit but don’t suppress the urge to let your words be known. Bakugou turns his head and gives you a look akin to an uptight six-year-old you just offended at your local playground. You shrug in response, a corner of your lip pinched upward. He doesn’t pick a fight over the nickname, but his eyebrows remain fiercely slanted, and coupled with his heavy steps and the excessive swinging of his gauntlet-clad arms, it tells you of his emotional constipation plain as day.

The journey toward the other teams’ flags is cloaked in strained silence and the physical gap between you two does not encourage any of you to speak up. At this point, both of your levels of annoyance for each other have mellowed out. Now it just feels... awkward—strange. You don’t see his expression, nor does he see yours. It feels like you’re being left in the dark, having only the back of Bakugou’s head to stare at the entirety of the way, and though you supposedly have his back, Bakugou feels precarious in this state as he trudges along at the front, not daring to turn his head to cross your eyes.

The ambiance is reminiscent of the ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice. Where Bakugou walks through the depths of the underworld, seeking you out in hopes you’d join his side once again. If he turns around now and spills his thoughts to you too soon, he fears that your forgiveness would be whisked away, thoroughly beyond his reach, and replaced with your promises of retribution.

That was the eloquent version of the situation anyway. To put it bluntly, Bakugou was just impatient as hell to say something to you. The silence suffocates him to the point where the words are nearly about to be squeezed out of his throat, but he bites his lip to snuff out the urges.

The more he keeps them in, the more fidgety he becomes, hands itchy and mouth trembling with grit between his teeth. The idea of not letting his voice be heard was something Bakugou detested. Mainly because it was already such a challenge to even keep his mouth shut, given his fiery attitude and lack of patience.

Man, what the hell am I hesitating for? he asks himself, that outspoken side of him spurring him on.

Ah, screw the uncertainty, he thinks. If he doesn’t say anything now, then he won’t get to say anything ever.

Bakugou stops in his tracks, turning his head. Here goes nothing,

“Hey, Y/n, I–”

“Katsuki–”

Words collide into each other, jumbled and incoherent, which take you two by surprise as you meet each other’s furrowed gazes. It’s quiet as you both piece your way through this, eyes trained like you haven’t seen each other in months when the reality is that a week of bitterness has somehow made you act like strangers. The bewildered look crossing his features is foreign to you; you’ve never quite seen Bakugou as taken aback as he is now.

“You first,” you grant before Bakugou could mix up your words again. Even being given permission, the blond still isn’t sure what to say, his thoughts lost on him the moment his voice clashed with yours. He takes a deep breath, calming his senses and steadying his mind for what he wants to convey.

“Look, Y/n, I don’t know how to put this as nicely as I can,” he begins, tone consistent yet wary, assessing your expression, “but I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you there all by yourself. I shouldn’t… have blown you off like that and forgotten about you.” He delivers this bluntly—honestly—as open as a boy of his nature can muster with arms spread out, willingly exposing him to his faults and your reprisals.

Looking at you, he finds your eyes are cast to the floor, assuming to be reflecting on his words carefully. After some deliberation, you come across the vermillion in his eyes.

“Frankly, I haven’t entirely forgiven you just yet. But I will say that despite how I’ve been acting, I’m not as mad at you as you think,” is what you give, and Bakugou would be lying to himself if he didn’t achieve relief at your statement. He mentally releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding throughout the exchange. However, you aren’t done yet.

“I just want you to understand what moments like those mean to me. It’s during that time where I can share my feelings and learn more about you—understand who you are,” you say. Bakugou latches onto every word. “And it goes both ways, you know. It’s hard to want to stay in a relationship with someone who doesn’t make an effort to make time for you.” It’s obvious you aim that comment at him as Bakugou’s eyes soften slightly hearing it. His calloused, glove-clad hands wrap into his palms. Man, he really was a jerk.

“Still… I know you’re making an effort to be sincere and that you’re genuinely sorry for what happened, especially considering how the others seem to have set this whole conversation up, right?” Bakugou winces over the Bakusquad’s ploy coming to light and makes a note not to follow along next time unless those dummies can scrape up a more elaborate plan.

Despite that, he presses on, “So, what does this mean?” A smile settles on the curve of your lips, sensing his impatience as his voice hastens you along.

“Well…” you begin, speech drawn out in anticipation as you step toward him to where Bakugou follows your movements. That is until he catches a few shadowy figures shifting around atop the small building behind you. Before you can open your mouth to continue, his instincts flare to life.

“Hey, look out!” he exclaims, already acting on his warnings by lunging forward to push you out of the way. Your breaths draw back into your lungs, your body thrust abruptly into the opposite direction. Landing on your butt, you wince at both the shock and the pain, but your whines desist when you witness Bakugou taking a force to the head as a result of coming to your aid.

“Katsuki!” you yell, immediately getting off the ground to rush to his side, but he can’t find it in himself to respond. Afflicted with a substantial blow to the crown of his head, his whole being throbs and his vision spins.

Fuck, is Y/n, okay? is the first thing on his mind, ignoring the liquid trickling down his forehead. His question is answered upon turning his head to meet your anxious expression—your eyes wide and lips quivering as they move to say words he can’t exactly make out beneath the pounding sensations consuming his mind. As he feels a set of arms wrap around him, he tries discerning his surroundings to form a reply, but can only capture bits and pieces.

“—tsuki! ...old… n!”

“...god—! I’m so dead!”

A sputter of words tangling together is the last he hears before his vision fades to black.

The next time Bakugou awakes, his eyes slowly sever open to come face-to-face with a blurry white ceiling. The lights assault his vision as his senses take time to adjust, unraveling the environment to realize he’s laying on a bed—a hospital bed to be precise.

He attempts lifting himself but is met with retaliation in the form of his pulsating head which he immediately flinches at. His hand goes to rub his scalp to soothe the ache and he finds bandages wrapped tightly around him. “What the hell happened?” The last he remembers is traversing the urban area with you for the capture the flag mission before finally confronting the subject that had been plaguing your minds for a week now. After that, he caught sight of some object descending toward you and before he had even realized it, his feet had moved on their own. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up in the nurse’s office with a headache from hell.

Wait, what about you? Were you okay? Surely, he had to have pushed you out of the way in time, right?

His head moves quicker than it should’ve, revealing the other hospital bed in the room to be unoccupied, vacant. He sighs and his relief is further bolstered by the door to the nurse’s room opening to unveil you unharmed with only your heavy look of concern troubling him.

“Katsuki, oh thank god, you’re okay!” you say, quickly pacing over to his side with a glass of water in hand. You leave it at his bedside, sitting before him. Gauging your appearance up and down, Bakugou tries making out even the smallest details.

“You aren’t hurt?”

You’re appalled he would ask this despite clearly being the one patched up in a hospital bed right now, and likely sporting some serious head trauma.

“Of course I am, you’re the one that lunged forward to protect me,” you tell him. Bakugou looks down at his lap, figuring that was what happened, but hearing it from you comforted him more than he thought. However, his comfort is wretched from him by the intense pressure persisting in his skull. Seeing him in pain, you urge him to lay down and rest.

“How the hell did I end up here anyway?”

You fidget with your fingers, hesitating on answering. At that, the blond lifts a brow, suspicious.

“Mineta… accidentally dropped a rock on your head.”

“...You gotta be joking, right?”

Bakugou leers hard, finding the reason he was out of commission to be a damn pebble hitting his head a detriment to his pride. And because of Mineta of all fucking people. Still, if he hadn’t acted as quickly as he did, you would’ve been the one to meet his fate instead, and he weighed this outcome to better than the former.

Then you explain how the teachers had temporarily intervened to bring his unconscious body to the nurse’s, where the old lady went about tending to his injury. Said she did her job and all he needed was to rest and let her quirk take fuller effect within that time.

“So did we win the game?” He switches the topic to today’s mission of capture the flag that was cut short on his end.

You shake your head, but at least grant him the benefit of knowing Mineta��s team ended up placing last. At that, his eyelids shut and he crosses his arms behind his bandaged head. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t my intention to win anyway.”

You give him a look. “...Liar.”

Bakugou cracks an eye open at you. “Hah? What do you mean I’m a fucking liar?”

“I know you, Katsuki. I dated you, after all. And the Katsuki that I dated is an arrogant, competitive jerk who thinks of being the best above all else.” Bakugou scrunches his nose, wondering what you’re implying through your... overly frank descriptions. “Still… he’s sweet and caring at times… and reliable when he needs to be,” you continue, tone softening that draws Bakugou in, “And the kind of guy I want to give a second chance to.”

Absorbing your words, Bakugou blinks. “S-Seriously?” He doesn’t mean to stutter, but the offer catches him off-guard. He replays what you just said. That’s what he heard, right? A second chance?

You giggle at how uncharacteristically astonished he sounds. “Yes, seriously.”

“Does that mean you forgive me for what happened last week?”

You hum between pursed lips in playful contemplation. “Well, maybe you can redeem yourself by going on another date with me then?”

Hearing your proposal, a wide grin arcs his lips, edging into a smirk.

“That’s it? Well, I can definitely fucking do that,” he states, confidence rejuvenating his body at the new, hopeful chance before him.

“Oh, just one more thing though,” you suddenly add.

“What?”

“We are not going to that Chinese Restaurant again.”

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bakugou fic #bakugo fic #bnha fic

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