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maximoffwitch · 3 years ago

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Not Your Cup of Tea?

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

warnings: none

summary: Natasha keeps making you coffee, little does she know that it’s not your cup of tea.

word count: 2k

a/n: idk what this is lol but here you go! also if u sent me a request, don’t worry i see it. i just like to keep it so i don’t forget and can reference them :)

Your phone buzzed against your night stand, pulling you from your slumber. Rolling over, you internally cursed whoever was calling you. You had specifically not set an alarm, hoping you’d get to sleep in for the first time in weeks, seeing as you’d just gotten back from a long mission.

“‘llo?” you grumbled, your eyes still closed, as you answered the phone.

“(Y/N)?” Steve’s voice sounded through the speaker. “Where are you?”

“In bed,” you answered, finally opening your eyes, confused as to why Steve was calling.

“You’re late,” he deadpanned.

“For what?” you racked you brain for anything you could be forgetting but came up empty.

“Debriefing,” Steve responded, causing you to close your eyes once again, this time in frustration.

“But, Cap,” you whined, “we just got back last night, and it’s,” you pull the phone away from your ear to check the time, “8:42 in the morning.”

“Sorry, (Y/N),” he said, sounding at least slightly apologetic. “Be down in 15 please.”

Before you could further argue, Steve hung up the phone.

Sighing, you begrudgingly got out of bed, slipped on a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, not bothering to change out of your pajamas.

You decided to stop by the kitchen and grab a quick bite to eat before being submitted to long-winded lectures from Fury and piles of paperwork.

“Morning, Nat,” you greeted the redhead, who was making herself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal.

“Hey, (Y/N),” she smiled softly at you. The two of you weren’t the closest, considering you were a fairly recent addition to the team. “How’d the mission go?”

“Good,” you nodded, moving to grab a bagel, “only a few scrapes and bruises.”

Natasha snorted with amusement. “That’s good.”

“Now, I gotta go do,” you were interrupted by a long yawn, earning a small chuckle from the other woman, “the worst part of the mission.”

“Here,” Natasha slid over the freshly brewed cup of coffee over to you, “you look like you need this more than me.”

You raised your eyebrow and smirked. “You saying I look like crap, Romanoff?”

“What? No,” Nat sputtered, her eyes widening. “That’s not what I meant. I was just—,”

“I’m kidding, Nat,” you chuckled, enjoying the edge you had over the normally calm and composed assassin, even for a brief moment. Accepting the warm drink with a tiny sip, you gave her a little grin. “Thanks for the coffee.”

—

A couple of days later, you find yourself back in the kitchen on another early morning, this time wanting to get a proper breakfast before your training session with Wanda.

As you enter, you see Natasha perched on the barstool, reading the newspaper and sipping on a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” she laughed at your tired state. “I made you a cup of coffee, seeing as you’re clearly not a morning person.”

“Thanks, Nat,” you brought the mug to your lips, allowing a small amount of the warm drink to enter your mouth. Quickly, you put together a piece of toast and grabbed a hardboiled egg from the fridge before joining the redhead at the island.

“You always up this early?” you asked, as you took a bite of your food.

“Routine,” she answered with a shrug.

“Probably should get myself one of those,” you joked, earning a small chuckle from Natasha.

“You have training?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, still chewing. “Wanda and I are going through the new ropes course today,” your eyes lit up with excitement.

You and your best friend had been begging Tony to try out the newest agility course he’d built, but the billionaire kept putting off the final fixes he had to make. Though when the team finally got a small break in their long streak of missions, Tony finally finished it, allowing you and Wanda to have a go.

“You’ll have to let me know how it goes,” Natasha said, trying to hide her smile at your eagerness.

“Of course,” you took the last bite of your breakfast, finishing the coffee gifted by Nat to wash it all down. As you put your dishes in the sink, you turned back to her and smirked, “Though I doubt you’ll be able to beat my time.”

“Oh?” Natasha raised her eyebrow at you, a smirk of her own playing on her lips. “I was going to tell you to ‘be careful,’ but now I’m not so sure.”

“Aw, Nat, you were worried about me?” you cooed teasingly, causing her to roll her eyes. Picking out an apple as a snack for later, you toss it up and catch it midair, as you head out for training. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“See ya, (Y/N/N),” Nat shook her head, amused by your sudden energy.

—

From that day on, you and Natasha formed a routine. Natasha would always be up before you and make coffee for the two of you, but when you joined, you prepared the breakfast, which you forced Nat to eat.

“Nat, it’s the most important meal of the day,” you argued, holding out a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

“I’m not hungry,” she retorted, moving to grab her coffee.

“You can’t rely on black coffee to get you through the day,” you pulled the mug away from her reach, replacing it with the plate of food. “Eat.”

“It’s not black,” Natasha grumbled, as she reluctantly picked up the fork and started poking at the pile of eggs. As she took a bite, her eyes widened. “(Y/N) this is amazing.”

You ducked your head to hide the slight tint creeping onto your cheeks. “It’s just scrambled eggs.”

“I’ve never had eggs this good,” Nat took another big bite. “Seriously, what’d you put in them?”

“Now, that, Miss Romanoff,” you set your own plate down in front of you, as you took a seat across from the redhead, “is a secret.”

“Fine,” Natasha shrugged nonchalantly. “As long as you make breakfast for me every morning.”

“Whatever you say, Nat,” you chuckled, starting your own breakfast.

Often times, the two of you would share stories of your lives, as you got to know each other better, and sometimes, you’d just sit in silence, enjoying each other’s company and the stillness of the morning.

You’d be lying to yourself if you hadn’t started developing feelings for the assassin. There was just something about her that interested you, even as you got to know more and more about her life.

Little did you know that Natasha felt the same way. It was unusual for her to be so open with someone she knew hadn’t known for too long, but there was something about you that made her feel safe.

—

Natasha frowned when she still hadn’t joined her for breakfast. While it was still only 9 o’clock, and Tony did throw a massive party last night, she couldn’t help but stare at your untouched cup of coffee, wondering where you were.

Hearing footsteps pad into the kitchen, Natasha snapped her head up, slightly disappointed when it wasn’t you.

“Morning, Nat,” Wanda greeted, as she walked over to grab two mugs from the cabinet.

“Hey, Wanda.”

“Who’s that coffee for?” the younger woman nodded to the full cup sitting on the counter.

“(Y/N),” she revealed, causing Wanda to make a face of surprise and confusion, one Natasha did not miss. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Wanda asked innocently, moving around the kitchen to make some tea.

“That face you just made.”

“I didn’t make a face,” Wanda continued the act, her back turned away from her mentor, as she sorted through the selection of tea bags.

“Wanda,” Natasha warned.

“It’s just,” Wanda gave in with a sigh, turning around to face the confused assassin, “(Y/N) doesn’t like coffee. Like at all.”

Natasha’s lips parted and her eyebrows furrowed at the revelation. All this time she had been making you coffee and you didn’t even like it? An awkward silence hung in the air, as Nat processed her thoughts.

“Is that why she’s not down yet?”

It didn’t take a mind reader for Wanda to tell that Natasha was feeling self-conscious asking your best friend about you.

“No, of course not,” Wanda smiled reassuringly, as she picked up the two mugs. “She actually woke up with a cold, hence the tea.”

“Wait, Wanda,” Natasha called after her before the younger woman could leave, “I’d like to talk to (Y/N), if you don’t mind.”

A knowing grin appeared on Wanda’s face, her plan having worked out to perfection, and she held out the cups of tea for Natasha to take, “Of course.”

“Thanks,” Nat took the drinks with a nod before heading up to your room.

She gently pushed open your door, her heart melting at the sight of you bundled up under the covers.

Hearing the door creak open and soft footsteps against the carpet, you stir groggily. “Wands? Did you find the chamomile? I think Bucky saved me—“

You stopped yourself as you rolled over and saw that the person sitting on the edge of your bed was in fact not your best friend.

“Sorry,” Natasha offered an apologetic smile, “not Wanda.”

“I can see that,” you smirked lazily, your voice coming out raspier than usual.

“Wanda, um, told me that you weren’t feeling well, so I brought you some tea,” Natasha explained nervously, scratching the back of her neck. “Well, actually, Wanda made the tea but I asked to bring it up to you because I wanted to see you and make sure that you were alright but if you want to see Wanda I can—“

“Nat,” you chuckle, cutting off her rambling, as you move to sit up so you could drink your tea, “thank you. I appreciate it.”

Nodding, she carefully handed you the mug, her heart fluttering as your fingers brushed briefly.

“Do you know what kind it is?” you asked, blowing on the steaming liquid in an effort to cool it down.

“No, sorry,” Natasha answered sheepishly.

As you took a sip, you closed your eyes contently, the warm liquid soothing your sore throat. “Mmm, it is chamomile, my favorite.”

“Good, I’m glad,” the corners of her mouth twitching upwards, as Nat hid the forming smirk behind her cup. “So, Wanda told me something interesting…”

“Oh, god,” your eyes widened and a pit formed in your stomach, as you hoped your best friend didn’t expose your feelings, “what’d she say?”

“She told me that you don’t like coffee,” Natasha revealed, the playfulness in her tone now gone.

“Oh yeah,” you chuckled nervously. “It’s just so bitter and the caffeine makes my body go crazy.”

“And yet you’ve been drinking it every morning for the past month?” Natasha arched her brow, both confused and amused, implicitly asking for an explanation.

You nodded bashfully and looked up to meet her watchful gaze. “I didn’t want to be rude and not drink the drink you made me,” you said before adding, “plus I enjoy spending time with you.”

“(Y/N/N), you don’t need to force yourself to drink a drink you hate in order to spend time with me,” Natasha teased, though you could see a faint blush forming on her cheeks. “But I like spending time with you too.”

“Yeah?” you beamed and bit your lip hesitantly. “You think I could take you out to dinner sometime?”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), are you asking me on a date?”

Before you could voice a response, a violent sneeze interrupted you. Natasha carefully took your tea from you, making sure you don’t spill it.

“How about this,” she began, setting down the mugs on your nightstand so she could pull the blankets over you, “you rest up and get better, and then we can talk about that date?”

“Hmm,” you hummed tiredly, as you sunk into your bed, your eyelids becoming heavier by the second, “sounds like a plan.”

“Get some sleep, dorogaya,” Nat leaned over to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel #my writing

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fruitcoops · 3 years ago

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So this is sort of similar to the people writing fanfic about the lions but can you imagine the YouTube edits? Like the videos that are just "Cap having heart eyes for Loops for 10 minutes straight" or "Loops lovingly dragging Caps name through the mud for 3 minutes" like those kinds of things and I can just imagine them doing reaction videos and it just being funny and the world just loving coops

Okay so this wasn't a specific fic request but I got carried away with imagining videos and....here you go. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Grace and Anna are mine! Bonus points to anyone who remembers the easter egg in this one!

Message From: Gracie

ANNA HOLY SHIT

Anna frowned at her phone screen, squinting to read around the spiderweb crack decorating the upper corner. She had tried to convince herself that it was cool, goth, edgy, but in the end she had to admit that it was just irritating. In a tragic turn of events, packing tape couldn’t fix everything.

Message To: Gracie

Wtf did I do

Two weeks of radio silence, then unexplained accusations. Anna shook her head as the grey bubble disappeared for a third time and turned back to her computer. Grace may have been her favorite cousin—and favorite person, if she was being honest—but very few things came between Anna and video editing. Especially editing for a Lions meme video. She had a whole 2,341 followers to attend to, after all.

Message From: Gracie

DID YOU SEE THE FUCKING INTERVIEW???

Message To: Gracie

Wow thank you so helpful

Message From: Gracie

Skip to 2:45 bestie

A link popped up just as Anna cut a segment from the sleep study video, where Loops’ heart eyes were in full effect. It was a rare, precious find for fan editors like herself.

“Come on,” she groaned. Maybe introducing Grace to the deepest parts of her hockey obsession was a mistake. But, really, what else was she supposed to do when she learned her cousin, who didn’t even live in Gryffindor, got to meet her favorite players just by chilling in a café? What kind of cosmic joke was that?

She narrowed her eyes at the embed of the link, then stifled a shriek. Impossible. How had she missed an upload?

As if on cue, her computer pinged with a new notification from the Lion Pride channel. “Oh, fuck me,” she muttered, scrambling to save her half-done video and pressing play.

The interviewer asked basic questions, ones she had heard the answers to a million times while curating her content. It always felt funny to hear people refer to Cap as ‘Sirius’—it was too official, too formal. She had spent countless hours on the compilations of his softer moments, and they were her most popular videos. Cap Having Heart Eyes for Loops for 10 Minutes Gay. Cap Being an Actual Puppy for Six and a Half Minutes. Everyone Wanting Cap Cuddles for Fifteen Minutes. Every Time Cap Smiles When Someone Mentions His Godson. The list was endless. She loved it.

She did a silent fist pump when she saw the interviewer had snagged both Cap and Loops; that would give her a whole new stream of workable content. If she was lucky, she could expand on her series of Loops Lovingly Roasting His Friends, part…fuck it, who was even counting anymore?

Anna was so caught up in her excitement that she nearly forgot about Grace’s suggestion. I’ve never skipped through a video on the first watch before, she thought hesitantly. But maybe just this once…

Her cursor hovered over the 2:45mark. She closed her eyes, and clicked it.

“—have you been adjusting to life as a celebrity?” the interviewer asked. Anna nearly rolled her eyes when Loops laughed. That question had been used far too often to be interesting anymore.

“It’s had its ups and downs,” Loops said with a smile. “Mostly, though, the fans have been incredible and just knocked my socks off with their support.”

“Really? What’s your favorite part of the Lions fanbase?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Their creativity, for sure. There was a video a while back where we reacted to some of the comments people left, and this person on Twitter made an absolutely beautiful collage of photos.”

“I have it saved to my phone,” Sirius added.

One more clip for the simp video. Anna made a note on the small corner space of her European History notes. The degree can wait for ten more minutes.

“Do you have a favorite creator?”

The interviewer was clearly teasing, but Loops’ smile was genuine. “I don’t know about a favorite, but there’s this person on YouTube who makes a shit ton of videos and they’re hysterical. I saw one the other day about—god, what was it again?”

“Every time I smile when people mention Harry,” Sirius answered around a laugh. “Can you blame me?”

Anna didn’t hear the next question. A ringing noise filled her ears as she sat, frozen, on her shitty dorm mattress and listened to her literal heroes talk about her dorky little channel. “Holy fuck,” she blurted after a moment of silence. “Holy fuck.”

“—subscribed?” The man’s voice snapped her back to reality.

“Of course I am!” Loops said. “You think I’m passing up a chance to watch a compilation of my friends making stupid decisions for the entire internet to see?”

A noise that would have been a shriek if Anna had any breath left in her body escaped her lungs; she clamped a hand over her mouth and shakily exited from the video before going to her YouTube account. 800 new notifications. 700 new followers in the last quarter hour. She was pretty sure she blacked out for a second from sheer shock and joy.

Message To: Gracie

What

Message From: Gracie

You’re famous!

Message To: Gracie

What

Message From: Gracie

I bet he knows your stuff better than he remembers me tbh

“They know me,” she whispered, staring at her computer. The unfinished video showed a perfect frame of Loops’ soft smile as he watched Cap get his toothbrush stuck in his pajama shirt. Somehow, the thought was both exhilarating and horrifying. What if they thought she was a creep? She wasn’t, not really, just a bored college student with not enough free time for a job but too much to keep herself busy with schoolwork. Her 2,341—no, 3,052—followers were just other hockey nerds looking for time to kill.

And the subject of those videos was one of her subscribers.

Anna slipped her headphones back on and began to edit like it was her last day on earth. Her fingers flew across the keyboard on muscle memory while her brain fizzed. Perfect, she thought. It has to be perfect.

In four hours, it was done. She sat back, panting, then hunched over again and began tapping out a title card.

Hello. Idk if anyone saw the new Lion Pride video today (linked below if anyone wants to see why I’m dying right now) but apparently Remus Lupin is subscribed to this channel and has been for a while.

Hi Loops. I’m Anna. You met my cousin once and she said she liked your sweater.

Now that that’s out of the way, please enjoy the next five minutes of our new rookie being the sappiest mf in existence (except for his fiancé). Mr. Lupin, please tell Hattie I say hello.

She pressed upload, peeled her headphones off, and collapsed backward on her bed.

Message To: Gracie

If I die here, tell the world I did it doing what I loved

Message From: Gracie

Will do

OH FUCK YOU FOR BRINGING UP THE SWEATER I SOUND LIKE A CREEP

Anna covered her itchy eyes with her forearm and settled in for a long, long nap. Her brain still needed to repair a few circuits.

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #anna #grace #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #ocs #hattie #lion pride

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non-un-topo · 3 years ago

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College, Car Seats, and Creamy Pasta (ficlet)

(This title, idk.) So I’ve been having feelings lately about the old guard with babies in modern aus, so here’s an experimental, kind of self-indulgent ficlet filled with extreme amounts of softness and bébé feels <3

_______________________________

There’s an infamous story all the way back from college that Joe loves to share which involves Andy drunkenly rolling her ankle on a beach and Joe having to carry her home--though, she could have walked, but Joe demanded to carry her--and fashioning an ice pack out of the only things he could find in his and Nicky’s tiny, decrepit apartment: A condom, and some ice from a small McDonald’s sprite (their freezer was broken when they moved in).

He lives to tell that story every chance he gets. Especially now, as he reaches into Andy and Quỳnh’s (much bigger and much colder) freezer nearly fifteen years later to retrieve a not-homemade ice pack and wrap it in a clean dishtowel for Andy’s poor crotch.

She’s lounging on the couch, even though she’s proven that she can walk, but Joe doesn’t mind, as she reaches back for the ice pack and shoots him a sly smile that says, Yeah, I know exactly which story you’re thinking about. He bats his eyelashes innocently back.

It’s a balmy Friday evening and Quỳnh’s still at work, though likely on her way home, so Joe has taken the liberty of cooking dinner. Andy begged to order a pizza, but Joe was not having it. And he thought himself to be the lax one of the bunch. If Nicky were in the kitchen at the time, it would have been anarchy.

“Thanks, Joe,” Andy says, as she settles into a more comfortable position on the couch with her ice pack, sighing. He adjusts the pillows at her back, which causes her to snort and slap his hand away.

“I’m not dying.”

Joe sniffs. “Yeah, coulda fooled me. How much did that baby weigh again?”

Andy laughs out a quiet, fuck off. “Nine pounds, eight ounces,” she says, quick as a whip.

“God…”

The baby, the reason for Joe and Nicky’s visit to Andy and Quỳnh’s apartment, is fairly chunky, sure, but he looks awfully tiny and pink, especially when he’s wearing his little hat. The hat with little lamb ears that Nicky painstakingly knit for him months ago, when he was barely more than a bump, that rarely leaves his soft little head. Nicky hadn’t even known how to knit at the time.

The baby’s name is Lykon, after a childhood friend of Andy and Quỳnh. Lykon was born at 4:26 AM on Monday. It’s Friday evening. Joe and Nicky have not left the apartment since Andy and Quỳnh brought him home.

And neither Andy nor Quỳnh have physically kicked them out, so Joe is staying right here.

Nicky had disappeared a few minutes ago to go change the baby while Andy napped, but he reappears then, slinking into the living room with Lykon held against his shoulder--he’s so little in Nicky’s hands, they almost swallow him--and Joe smiles at his husband in greeting before doing a double-take.

“Babe,” Joe says, and Andy cranes her neck to try and see Nicky over the back of the couch. “What are you doing?”

Nicky continues his journey across the living room floor--lunges, he’s doing lunges. Deep ones that make Joe’s eyebrows jump up in appreciation.

Nicky releases a finger from his gentle grip on the baby’s head and presses it to his lips. “Shush.”

“You trying to get your ass workout in while carrying my son? Really?” Andy asks.

Nicky’s response is whispered so softly, Joe can hardly hear him. “This is the only way I can get him to sleep.”

“Put him in the car seat,” Andy says, like it’s the most simple solution in the world.

“He likes it,” Nicky argues, still whispering.

Andy only shrugs. “Okay, but if he spits up on you…”

And right on cue, Joe hears a tiny gurgle, and there’s baby puke sliding down Nicky’s back.

Andy doesn’t say, told you so, but she doesn’t need to. Her smug grin is enough. With a poorly hidden pout, Nicky reluctantly hands the baby, who is now crying quiet little wobbly squeals, to Andy.

“You know,” Andy says, “you guys don’t have to stay. You have other commitments, I know.”

It’s the first time since Lykon’s birth that she’s said something like that, and Joe is only moderately surprised to feel a sudden onslaught of tears in his eyes.

“Or not,” she says, quickly. “We really appreciate your help, boys, it’s just… We don’t want to keep you.”

“Andy, shut up.”

She laughs, loud and open-mouthed. “Okay, Joe, okay. I love you guys.”

“We love you too,” Nicky says. Then he leans over the couch to peer into Lykon’s squishy little face. “And we especially love you.”

His voice changes when he talks to the baby. While Joe can’t control the way his voice raises several octaves and the way he coos gibberish, Nicky’s voice softens and hushes to something so comfortable, barely audible. It’s the way he would talk to a fussy toddler, Joe thinks, given the opportunity. He would level his eyes with them and speak to them like a person equal to him, providing the safest and most non-judgemental space for them.

Joe thinks. He hasn’t had many opportunities to see his husband speak with toddlers.

“I would be worried about you guys kidnapping him,” Andy says, “but I think it only counts as kidnapping if you leave the apartment.”

Joe snorts, and then he hears the water boiling over on the stove, so he dashes.

When Joe met Andy and Quỳnh, he had been a wide-eyed twenty-year-old, freshly out of the closet and already hopelessly in love. Well, that hasn’t changed, which always delights him to realize, after all these years. It was the love of his young life--Nicky, of course--who introduced him. Andy and Nicky were family friends, more like siblings, really, and of course Andy and Quỳnh had been together since the dawn of time. It took Joe no time at all to find a family in the four of them, inseparable as they all were.

Andy and Quỳnh had actually surprised him when they started talking about kids. That unexpected and world-changing conversation had been the beginning of a long and at times heartbreaking four years, before they finally got their donor, then suffered through a little over a year of IVF. They had almost given up, Joe remembers, between the frustration and the arguments and doctors telling Andy her eggs were too old. But, there he was, at the end of the journey, coming into the world flipping off everyone who said they couldn’t do it: Baby Lykon, the little warrior.

Joe remembers all of it vividly. The phonecall when they told him and Nicky they were pregnant, the panic to help them find a bigger apartment, the indulgent shopping trips, though Andy tried to keep a cap on those, and the weight and warmth of the baby in Joe’s arms the very first time he held him, barely thirty minutes after he’d been born.

Joe had sobbed, of course (something Andy and Quỳnh had anticipated so strongly they bet money on how long he cried for), and he looked into the baby’s big brown eyes and promised him the world.

They had talked about kids. Of course, they had. He and Nicky. But life was busy, and in the last five years between Joe finishing his dissertation and Nicky’s mother getting sick, the subject of kids just hadn’t come up. Besides, Joe thinks now, he’s only thirty-three.

Quỳnh comes home as he’s dishing up dinner for everyone--a creamy, cheesy pasta, because it’s the best comfort food--and her eyes brim with tears when she gets to hold Lykon again. She hasn’t been able to get a lot of time off work, even after becoming a new parent, which Joe thinks is frankly outrageous, but the work she does as a crisis counsellor is of course monumentally important.

They huddle around the couch to eat dinner, but Nicky pulls up one of the rickety chairs from the kitchen table and sits next to the baby, who is snoozing in his car seat on top of the coffee table. Joe doesn’t know how he does it, but Nicky manages to eat his dinner, drink enough water, and hold a conversation while keeping Lykon’s car seat rocking gently so he doesn’t wake up and scream.

Joe watches him as he chews his pasta mindfully and leans close to peer into the car seat. Beautiful. He’s always so beautiful, especially now. The way he looks at Lykon--their nephew, Joe realizes, elated--makes Joe’s head spin off his shoulders. He feels like he’s twenty.

“Crazy how tiny he is,” says Quỳnh, her voice soft and reverent. She already sounds so much like a parent. Joe’s eyes are still on his husband, so he sees how brightly Nicky smiles at that.

Andy makes an indignant noise. “Shut the fuck up.”

Quỳnh laughs, though she tries with obvious effort to keep quiet. She pulls Andy closer, her arm draped over her shoulder, and presses three kisses to her cheek. Then Quỳnh catches Joe’s eye and winks.

Andy shovels another forkful of pasta into her mouth and moans as she chews. With a full mouth, she says, “Joe, this is perfect. Please, boys, never leave.”

Joe shrugs bashfully, pretending to be shy. “It’s Nicky’s recipe.”

“What did you use,” Quỳnh asks.

Joe hums. He juts his chin to the kitchenette. “Your parmesan, mostly, and that fancy milk.”

“What fancy milk,” Andy asks, absolutely stuffing her face.

“Y’know.” Joe waves a hand. Chews, swallows. “The milk in the fancy bag, from the fridge.”

Andy and Quỳnh both stop eating, their eyes bugging out. Quỳnh slaps a hand over her mouth, poorly hiding a laugh and clearly choking a little, and Andy looks… Oh, Andy looks furious. Her face is red.

“J-” She forcefully lowers her voice, shooting a fearful glance at the baby. “Joe,” she whispers through her teeth. “Did you use my fucking breast milk?”

“Dio.” Nicky sticks his fork back into his dish.

“Oh,” Joe says, like an idiot. “Um.”

Andy’s cheeks puff out and somehow her face turns an even darker shade of red.

“I pumped…” she whispers, low and lethal, slow. “...For so… long…”

“There’s more in the fridge, babe,” Quỳnh says, and Joe fears for her life for a hot second. Then she brings her hand out to hover over Andy’s chest. “And it’s not like the tap is running dry, or whatever.”

“So I’m a milk bag.”

“A badass, sexy milk bag who--oh, who is murdering me with her eyes right now.” Quỳnh turns on Joe, then, scooping another forkful of breast-milk-pasta into her mouth and jabbing the fork in his direction. “You’re gonna be up all night paying my wife back for this, genius. See how skilfully you can wipe meconium from his bum.”

Joe only nods in shame. Fair enough.

Lykon signals that he’s awake, then, with a series of soft little snorty grunts that devolve very quickly into shrieking, wobbly sobs. Nicky launches into action with a speed that rivals the pitcrews at NASCAR. He lifts him from the car seat with such gentleness and oh, Joe’s heart breaks to see the baby’s little lips trembling as he cries, the way his little feet kick out against Nicky’s chest as he holds him over his forearms. Nicky is about to pass him to his moms when Quỳnh smiles softly up at him and says, “Looks like you’ve got him.”

He throws her a glance as if to ask, are you sure, and Quỳnh and Andy both nod. Joe’s sure they’re grateful to have the small amount of rest time and, looking at them now, curled together on the couch in their soft clothes, exchanging light kisses, he knows he and Nicky haven’t come close to overstaying their welcome.

“Look at you, Nico,” coos Andy as Nicky carefully holds the baby against his shoulder to peek at his diaper through the waistband his tiny pants. “You’re making us look bad.”

Nicky only chuckles lightly and shakes his head. The diaper must be clean, because he leaves it be and brings a hand up to cup the back of the baby’s wispy-haired head more steadily, and begins to hum, almost a whisper, and Joe’s heart flutters.

“Do you think he’s hungry?” Nicky asks Andy when the baby continues to fuss.

Turns out he is hungry, because he quiets almost immediately when Andy brings him to her chest. It’s not silent in the apartment--Joe can hear some sirens through the window on the streets far below, can hear the air conditioner groan to life, can hear Quỳnh and Nicky’s forks clink against their plates as they continue to eat the questionable breast-milk-pasta (good lord). And, Joe can hear the soft little grunts and snorts that the baby makes as he feeds.

Joe watches his oldest friends--they’re parents now, he can hardly believe it--as they huddle close on the couch and watch their son. Quỳnh wraps her arms under Andy’s so they’re both holding him, and his little chubby fist twitches and flings out every once in a while against Andy’s rolled-up shirt. His feet look impossibly small. Joe remembers the sounds he made when he and Nicky went shopping for all manner of baby supplies to help shave some stuff off Andy and Quỳnh’s list. He’d nearly sobbed when Nicky came up to the cart holding a pair of incredibly tiny socks (and then he had teared up and nearly passed out when Nicky popped the socks over his thumbs. A lot of people stared).

Joe would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been thinking of revisiting that store with Nicky every day since.

Now, he looks at his husband to find him already watching him, his heart in his eyes. Nicky slowly moves his gaze to their friends, to the baby, and Joe follows it. When their eyes meet again, Nicky’s are a little damp with tears, but he’s smiling, and there’s something inquisitive and hopeful in his eyes. Joe matches him and slowly, they both nod.

Yes.

#2000 words is not a ficlet sig. i digress #tog #the old guard #tog fic #anyway i am very very very shy about this #might do more with it. idk bébés make me happy. and i don't usually write aus but that could change #sage writes #i promise joe and nicky aren't going to steal andy and quỳnh's baby i just realized how it almost looks like that rip #anyway i'm shy now byeee <3

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muilkyu · 4 years ago

Text

Cooking With Treasure

Genre:Fluff

Word Count: 1k (1490)

Warnings: None (as usual pure fluff)

This was requested a million years ago lol.

🐷 Hyunsuk

"The website says 4 eggs. Do we have eggs at home?"

"We have a full carton of eggs."

Hyunsuk checks the item off the list moving to the next, "It says we need breadcrumbs."

"Plain or seasoned? Wait just breadcrumbs or panko specifically?"

Hyunsuk is thrown off guard by the question he looks up from his phone head tilted, "There are different types?"

"Yes, there is. They all taste different too."

"I officially give up. Here you take the list, I'm just gonna follow your lead."

Hyunsuk is actually pretty good a cooking

So he agrees almost immediately to cook with you

Rather cook than eat out anyways

Whenever you ask to cook with him he gets really excited asking if you need to run to the store or not

🐼 Jihoon

“More pepper in mine please?” you request.

Wordlessly Jihoon pours a little more pepper into the egg mixture, “Is that enough?”

“Yes thank you,” you chirp, turning back the strawberries for your fruit salad. “Since you don’t want a fruit salad do you want a smoothie?”

“It’s okay you don’t have to make anything else.”

You stop cutting to turn around, “It’s okay, it’s not much and you need more fruit in your diet.”

“Hey, it’s too early in the morning to take jabs at me.”

You just laugh, “It is never too early to tease you. Now you know how your friends feel. Also your eggs are starting to burn.”

You are both great independent cookers

Both follow your own rhythm in the kitchen

Loves bring a recipe to you that you can both try together

🐯 Yoshi

“The recipe says we need some brown sugar,” Yoshi reads from his phone.

“I have some at home. Those cookies I made a while ago needed some,” you tell him placing a carton of baking soda into the basket on his arm.

“I never knew cookies required so many ingredients,” he says looking down at the basket that's filled to the top with ingredients.

“Yeah, but that’s the fun part. We get to run around the kitchen trying to remember measurements and spilling flour all over the place.”

“I have a feeling we are going to be cleaning dishes all night,” he says.

I feel like Yoshi would be fine in the kitchen

Follows your lead though for sure

Yoshi’s partner would totally be a baker (gut feeling idk)

Has his own apron that matches yours

🐨 Junkyu

"Smell this and see if it's bad."

Pushing away the bottle Junkyu is pushing towards your face you reply, "If you have to smell it to see if it's bad you shouldn't use it."

“Why do you want to cook anyways?”

You shrug crossing your arms leaning against the counter, “We always eat out. It's a nice change to our usually routine.”

“I see, well if we want to cook anything we should head out to the market.”

“Or we could head to my dorm because I have everything we need, but tomorrow we are going to clean out your fridge.”

Junkyu groans, not liking the idea of cleaning, “Does it have to be tomorrow?”

“Yes it does now come on I’m hungry.”

Junkyu doesn’t cook for himself

All the food in his fridge is packed by his mom

Cooking with Junkyu goes south very quickly

1000% messes up measurements

You might have to start over a few times...

🐹 Mashiho

“Which plate should we use the pink ones or the green ones?”

Turning around Mashi just shrugs, “You can choose.”

“We’ll do the pink ones then they match the lemonade,” you decide, placing the pink plates down on the table.

“Okay! Are you ready to eat?” he says, carefully he brings the pan over from the stove. You sit down capping your hands. “Dinner is served.”

“Thank you so much for helping mte today.”

Mashi shakes his head denying it all, “No thank you for letting me help you. Now let’s dig in.”

We all saw T-Map episode 34...he knows his way around the kitchen

Honesty cooking with Mashi is just full of giggles

Since you both know what you are doing no mistakes happen

100% serves both of your plates

🦁 Jaehyuk

"How much of this?"

"Half a cup. Stir it slowly," you instruct slowly pouring milk into the measuring cup.

He follows instructions slowly pouring in the milk, "Speed one or two?"

"One first and then two so it doesn't fly everywhere."

Jae doesn't seem to have listened because he pushes the machine onto four. The milk goes flying everywhere, soaked all of his shirt and face. He scrambles to turn the machine off,while you just watch.

When he gets the mixer off he looks up at you with milk and bits of flour falling from his face, "Oops."

He's excited about cooking together

Always follows instructions

Yet all seems to make mistakes

The food still turns out amazing, but he's on cleaning duty after you finishing cooking

🤖 Asahi

"Let's just order some food."

"That might be too expensive. We can just make something."

"It'll take longer, we should just order."

"There is a perfectly good kitchen right there," you point out, "Plus we shouldn't waste food."

He thinks for a bit before agreeing, "What are we gonna make?"

Asahi would rather order out than cook

You have to push him to cook

Definitely forgets to set the timer to check on the food

🦊 Yedam

"We should bake a cake."

He looks up from his phone confused at the sudden proposal, "Tonight?"

"Yes, I think we have all the ingredients."

"Okay, what flavor?"

You think for a second then reply, “Mhh, chocolate cake.”

Goes along with it

He's a little lost but he's good at following the recipe

The food always turns out fine with a few minor casualties

🐰 Doyoung

"Let me help."

"No, I'm going to cook."

He attempts to pick up the pasta sitting on the counter, but you slap his hand with the back of the spoon.

"Please? I don't want you to make all of this alone."

You glance down at the ingredients on the table, before agreeing, "You know it wouldn't hurt to have a little help."

Really wants to help you out

He's really only in the way half the time but he really tires

You let him help out whenever he begs because you secretly like cooking with him

100% asks his mom to teach him how to cook because he wants to impress you

🐏 Haruto

"How much longer?"

"I just put the pan on the stove."

He plops down on the couch groaning, “Maybe we should just order some food.”

“Nope, I already started the noodles,” you reply, sitting down on the couch next to him.

Haruto grabs a hold of you pulling you into his side, you giggle letting your head falling into his shoulder, “Thank you for cooking for us.”

“Mh, and thank you for helping.”

Doesn’t offer to help because he is terrified of messing up your work

Always helps clean up

You always try to incorporate both of your cultures food into your cooking

🐺 Jeongwoo

As soon as you open the door Jeongwoo is already pulling you into a hug.

“I missed you so much.”

You slightly hug back pulling away, “You just saw me yesterday.”

Pouting he tries to pull you back into the hug. Successfully you dodge him trying to avoid letting the spoon in your hand get any sauce on you both.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"What's behind your back?" he questions, extending his neck to look behind you. “A spoon.”

"It's nothing," you insist, trying to change the subject you push the spoon behind your back and invite him in, "Just take off your shoes and come inside."

“Did you cook?”

You nod, “Just a little bit. I still have to make the rest of the salad and dressing though.”

“I can cut up the rest of the vegetables and you can finish up the dressing then.” He decides to slip off his shoes heading to the kitchen.

Always wants to help

Usually clueless, but the food is never ruined

Doesn't really care for cooking himself but finds it more exciting when it's with you

🐮 Junghwan

"Are you sure this is correct?"

"I've done this a million times."

“I don’t think we put enough milk,” you say looking down at the recipe.

Junghwan stops stirring to look at the red clumpy in the bowl. “Just give it a few more minutes.”

“It’s already been 15 minutes,” you remind him. “We should add some more milk.”

"Just a few more minutes I promise it will come together."

Takes the lead

He insists what recipe you should make, but adds his own twists

Cooking together either turns out amazing or at the end the night you end up having to order food

Thank you so much for reading!

Also this was a request from months ago I don’t even have the original request anymore.

I am trying out the ‘keep reading’ feature so my blog so it doesn’t take forever to scroll lol. I don’t know how I feel about it yet, but let’s just give it a try.

Requests closed.

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worldwidemochiguy · 4 years ago

Text

Love You A Latte (MFEEU! Jimin)

➵ You have always wanted a story book romance, no matter how many times your friends tell you it’s unrealistic, and even unhealthy to have such high expectations. You can’t help but yearn for the one who will make your heart sing, who will captivate you with one word, who will treat you like you’re worth more than anything else in the world... and then Park Jimin crashes into your life, with a pretty smile and a warm cup of vanilla latte with your name on it.

➵ Warnings: Yandere Jimin, Stalking, Daddy Kink, Masturbation, Unhealthy Idealisation of Romance

➵ Word Count: 9.1K

➵ MFEEU Masterlist

➵ General Masterlist

➵ a/n: it’s finally here!!! and i made it part of the mfeeu!!!! idk it just felt right also i actually finished this a few weeks ago but i wanted to add a bonus scene which had smut lol. buuut i was finding it hard to write and i didn’t want to make u guys wait any longer :/ so,,, sorry for the wait! but i hope you enjoy :D

“You do realise that kind of stuff isn’t real, right?”

Your head jerked up, fingers curling slightly around the dog-eared page you were just about to turn, leading you deeper into the intoxicatingly perfect story. Your friend looked almost concerned, worry digging a groove in between her eyebrows.

“Huh?” You replied absently, mind still fixed on the story beneath your fingertips.

“I mean, you’re always reading those books, where a perfect guy comes and steals the girl away into a world of love and happiness and all that crap. You know that won’t actually happen to you, right?”

“…Uh, yeah?” You laughed nervously, one hand releasing the book to come up and brush your hair out of your eyes. “Any particular reason why you’re saying this, Buttercup?”

Buttercup’s expression was pinched, almost painfully so.

“I just… I don’t want you to waste your life away waiting for a guy who’ll never come.”

‘I know.” You said, your throat uncomfortably dry, “I know. It’s just… it’s nice to imagine, right?”

Watching you was the most treasured part of Jimin’s day. Thanks to the multiple cameras he had installed in your apartment while you were out of town, he was able to spend many happy hours watching you, completely besotted.

If he ever missed you, maybe while you were in your classes or meeting with your friends in that ridiculous coffee shop — a practice he planned to stop as soon as he officially became your boyfriend — he could just open his laptop and watch endless saved recordings of you. He even had the cameras linked to his computer at work, though he had to make sure Jungkook wouldn’t peak over his shoulder as he opened the webcam viewer, the nosy little brat.

If he was lucky, you might have danced around to the music on the radio while you were waiting for the kettle to boil, or you would be on your couch, giggling as you read one of those romance novels you were so fond of. Little things. Domestic things, which made it easy to image the day when you would dance around in his apartment, safe and happy in his embrace.

Jimin was thankful you didn’t spend much time in the bathroom. He had refrained from placing cameras in that room because he wanted the first time he saw your beautiful body to be a conscious choice on your part. He would also do his best to avert his eyes whenever you got changed in your bedroom.

However, that didn’t stop him from shamefully imaging you in the privacy of his own penthouse apartment, when the nights became long and lonely without you, or any other human company. More often than he would like to admit, Jimin found himself fantasising about how tight you’d feel clenched around him, how sweet your release would taste on his tongue.

Though the two of you had never actually spoken, Jimin knew everything about you, from your favourite colour to the way you had your eggs in the morning. From a little extra research, made easy by your friends’ various social medias and the occasional overworked college administrator that was sweet-talked into giving out students’ personal information, he knew your birthday, your blood type, and many other precious facts that he wrote down in a diary personally devoted to you, containing his photos of you taken from afar and and Jimin’s records of what you did that day. He had filled up several diaries after having first laid eyes on you only a year ago.

The moment Jimin saw you for the first time was forever burned into his memory. He was waiting in front of the office building, checking his briefcase to make sure he had remembered to bring an important file in for that day’s meeting, when the shopping bag of a passerby had broken, spilling all of their belongings onto the ground.

Jimin had merely watched, unperturbed, as the stranger struggled to pick everything up, and it appeared everyone else was content to do the same. Well, everyone except you.

You descended like an angel from heaven, the only one to help him. Jimin could barely feel his heart pounding in his chest, he was so enraptured by your beauty, your kindness, the grace with which you held yourself. Even your scent, wafted over to him by a blessed breeze, was enough to make Jimin realise that you were the one for him.

The only one there could ever be.

Jimin had listened, captivated, as you comforted the stranger with your melodic voice, all the while helping them to collect their possessions which had spilled out across the sidewalk. You were just- ethereal, as you comforted the stranger — they seemed to be having a bad day, not that Jimin cared at all — introducing yourself as a friend. Your name was the most beautiful thing Jimin had ever heard.

Jimin repeated that name over and over again in his head, and with little difficulty he located you and immersed himself in your life. He had to make sure that when he ‘met’ you, he would not be like that bumbling stranger, too weak to even reply to your kind words. He needed you to realise immediately that he was the one for you, your soulmate, as you were his.

Jimin grinned as his laptop started up again, finally fully charged up. When he woke he discovered that the battery had died as he had it playing all night while he slept. Jimin loved linking it to the live stream while you were asleep and then listening to your cute mumbles and sleepy groans, imagining that you were lying beside him, safely wrapped in his arms.

Usually, he would remember to plug it in so that it wouldn’t run out of charge, but Jimin had been a little distracted that night after you released some… strange noises in your sleep, noises that sounded like moans. Jimin was glad you didn’t say a name — he really didn’t have time to murder someone, what with all the workload on his hands — though your moans slightly tarnished his innocent vision of you.

Jimin knew you were undefiled, a fact that brought him great delight and daily erections. He knew this because during that dark period several months ago when you had that despicable ‘boyfriend’ hanging around you, a constant source of contention between you and him was the fact that you wouldn’t let the bastard touch you.

After he drunkenly attempted to pressure you into making out with him on your couch — a proposal you strongly rejected much to Jimin’s delight — the drunk asshole had left you, sobbing into your hands, to ‘get his dick wet’ elsewhere.

It really was too easy for Jimin to follow him out that evening. To knock him unconscious and then drag him into his rundown car. To place his heavy leg on the accelerator and let it speed into a tree, and watch him regain consciousness a second before the car collided and a branch fell through the windshield, stabbing him in the chest.

Jimin watched it all, and smiled, knowing you were safe from that monstrous son of a bitch. You were safe from everyone, as long as he was there to protect you. Not that you knew it yet, of course.

The cops ruled it as an accident caused by drunk driving, a verdict supported by your testimony of his behaviour earlier that night and his general reputation as an irresponsible party-goer. How that scumbag ever got you to go out with him was beyond Jimin, especially given all the work Jimin was putting in to even be worthy of your attention.

But it didn’t matter. After the death of your boyfriend, Jimin watched as you became happier, rising out of the depression that asshole had put you in. Though, to his consternation, you were spending more time with other people, even widening your previously small friendship group, it was worth it given that he was able to see your bright, joyful smile all the more often.

Jimin let out a groan of frustration as the livestream continued to take its sweet time loading. Thankfully, he had a day off today so he didn’t have to worry about being late to work, not that Taehyung was particularly strict about that sort of thing.

It was now 10 in the morning, a Saturday, so according to the rough schedule Jimin had worked out, scrawled on the inside cover of his diary and imprinted into his brain, you should be just starting to wake up. You were a bit of a late riser, but that just made Jimin love you all the more, imagining lazy mornings filled with kisses and pillow fights that devolved into indulgent morning sex.

An excited grin spread across his face when the picture finally cleared and he got to see your beautiful face. The grin dimmed slightly when he saw you were just putting the finishing touches to your outfit, seemingly leaving your apartment to go somewhere. Jimin scowled.

Who did you have to meet that was so important you would wake up specially to see them? He hurriedly got dressed, eyes still pinned on the live feed which made putting on his trousers a tad more difficult than usual.

Thankfully, he was able to be out of the door more or less the same time you were. He followed the now well-trodden route of shortcuts and back alleys that led to your apartment. Or rather, the road across from your apartment.

Jimin followed a block behind you, baseball cap pulled low over his face so you didn’t recognise him, watching as you strolled along the avenues, smiling to himself whenever you saw a pile of autumn-tinted leaves and jumped into them, creating a cacophony of crackles which made you giggle cutely. He almost regretted not bringing his camera to capture these adorable moments, but he knew it would look strange to the other pedestrians if they saw him following behind you taking photos.

Jimin finally realised where you were headed with a bittersweet smile. The coffee shop you loved, The Roasted Bean, which you frequented with your friends. He was hesitant to go in there, worried that your friends, stupid though they were, would notice his constant presence and poison you against him.

He couldn’t resist strolling up to the window, though. Watching as your face brightened when you saw your friends (who had already ordered without you, the ungrateful swine). He imagined a similar look appearing on your face whenever you saw him — except happier, because obviously you would be more excited to see your boyfriend rather than your friends. Maybe when he was coming home from work to greet you in your and his’ shared apartment.

A handwritten note stuck to the window distracted him from his reverence, something which originally irritated him but what he soon realised was in fact a blessing. The ‘help wanted’ sign, proclaiming that the shop needed a new barista, and that they didn’t mind if the applicant had no previous experience, was all Jimin needed to situate himself in your life.

After all, if he started working at the cursed coffee shop, he would get to see you every day when you visited in the mornings, and after that Jimin was sure it wouldn’t take long to make you fall in love with him.

Of course, if Jimin wanted to get the job at the coffee shop, he would have to do something about his proper, full-time job.

“Uh, Taehyung?”

Two heads popped up as Jimin knocked on the office door. They must have been having a meeting. Fuck, Jimin really didn’t want to have this conversation with Jungkook as a witness, but it seemed he had no choice as Taehyung waved him in and Jungkook showed no sign of getting up. On the contrary, he settled into the office chair and looked for all the world as if he wanted a bag of popcorn to snack on while he watched the conversation.

“What’s up?” Taehyung asked, and Jimin felt a slight lick of heat paint itself across his cheeks. He cleared his throat and pointedly ignored Jungkook’s snort.

“I want to cash in my vacation days.”

“Oh, really?” Taehyung’s brows flick up, “It’s… September. Shouldn’t you save them for… I don’t know, summer?”

“No, I want to use them now.” Jimin asserted, and Taehyung gave a puzzled little frown, before shrugging.

“Okay, well, there’s a a form you’ll have to fill in. How long are you thinking, a week? Two?”

“About two months, I think.” Jimin said, less confident than he would have liked, and Taehyung’s jaw dropped.

“Two months? Why on earth do you want to take two months off all of a sudden?” Taehyung asked incredulously, before his expression sobered abruptly. “Is there something wrong with your health?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that, Taehyung-ah, don’t worry.” Jimin assured his friend quickly, “I just… want to pursue something else for a while, that’s all.”

“Want to pursue someone else, you mean.” Jungkook cackled, obviously casting off his role as a spectator, and Jimin fought to keep his expression unmoved. “You’ve been bright red ever since you stepped into this office.”

“It’s… warm.” Jimin muttered, and he wasn’t wrong, his cheeks certainly were warm at that point.

“It’s September, Jiminie,” Jungkook laughed, “and you’ve got a crush!”

“Is it true, Jimin-ah?” Taehyung asked delightedly, “You’ve found someone?”

“That’s hyung to you, brat.” Jimin snarled at Jungkook, ignoring Taehyung’s coos and his shouts to his girlfriend to come into the office. Jungkook stuck his tongue out at Jimin.

“Wow, look, hyung’s blushing.” Jungkook announced, before walking over to the office door and swinging it open. “Hey, everyone, get in here, look how red hyung’s cheeks are! Hyung looks like a strawberry!” Jungkook turned back to Jimin triumphantly as the rest of the boys came to the office to see what all the commotion was about. He gave Jimin a saccharine smile. “Is that better, hyung?”

“Respect your elders, kid.” Yoongi drawled as he reached the office, the rest of the floor in two. “Anyway, what the fuck is happening?”

“Yeah, why did you call me here, Taetae?” Taehyung’s girlfriend asked, who had come in from her section of the office and been promptly tugged onto Taehyung’s lap. He merely stared up at her, utterly besotted. Fuck, is that what Jimin would look like with you? Gross.

“No reason, I just missed you.” Taehyung smiled dopily at her, and she giggled, pressing a quick peck on his cheek and actually, Jimin would murder every single person in this room if you looked at him like that. Maybe affection isn’t so gross, as long as you’re involved.

But then Jungkook crowed, “Jiminie’s in love!” And affection very quickly became intolerable again.

“Shut up.” He snarled as they all begin laughing and cooing at him jokingly, “I’m just going to be leaving the office for a while.”

“What, so you can take a job at her favourite coffee shop and write love notes on her napkins?” Jungkook laughed, and Jimin-

Jimin looked at his shoes and used the age-old logic of if I can’t see them, they can’t see me.

“No-” Hoseok gasped, equally shocked and gleeful, but Jin interrupted him.

“Jimin,” He said calmly, and Jimin could just imagine his lips twitching up and down as he desperately tried not to break into peals of windshield-wipe laughter, “Look me in the eye and tell me you aren’t going to get a job as a barista as an attempt to get a girl.”

“He can’t look you in the eye, he’s too short.” Jungkook whispered, and Jimin generously refrained from hissing at him.

“I-” Jimin stuttered as he looked up and deep into Seokjin’s pitiless eyes, “I’m not-” He started to say, but… honestly no one can lie while looking at Kim Seokjin.

“She’s so cute!” Jimin bursted out, and immediately there was chaos. Several people were yelling. Hoseok somehow produced a bottle of champagne which he must’ve just been, like, carrying around with him, but Jimin simply did not care anymore.

“She’s so fucking cute all the fucking time and she goes to this coffee shop so fucking often, so if I become a barista there then I’ll see her every day! Do you understand?” Jimin asked, before shaking Jungkook — who had risen from his seat in celebration — frantically by the collar. “Every single day, Jungkook!”

“He’s worse than Taehyung!” Jungkook shouted gleefully, and Taehyung — who was still sat on his chair with his girlfriend — frowned.

“I- don’t know if I should be offended or not.”

“You should always be offended when it comes to Jungkook.” Namjoon told him sagely, and Jimin yelled a wordless noise of agreement.

His yell seemed to remind Taehyung of why Jimin came into his office in the first place, and he starts rifling through his desk, having to shift his girlfriend off his lap slightly to do so.

“Here, Jimin- sorry baby, this’ll just take a second — here’s the file for the vacation days.”

Taehyung passed Jimin a sheet of paper, having to lean around Hoseok, who had just started a conga — where the fuck was that music coming from? Who the fuck brought speakers to an office? — to give it to him. “Take as much time as you need.”

“Thanks, Taehyung-ah.” Jimin grinned as he left the office, pausing half-way out the door as he heard Taehyung call his name. He turned around to see his friend grinning at him.

“Good luck, Jimin. I hope it goes well.”

So do I, Jimin thought as he left the building, calling a taxi to take him to his next job, and (hopefully) closer to you.

You sighed as your alarm went off, jolting you from your dream. It was another romantic one — what a surprise, your friends would probably mutter sarcastically — but it truly hurt your heart to let it drift as your mind fully woke up. That was always the way. Real life coming to interrupt what you dreamed your life could be.

Another sigh escaped your lips as you imagined him. The one who starred in all your dog-eared romance novels, who would sweep you of your feet and take care of you, both in the bedroom and out of it.

In your head, you knew that you should probably want to be self-reliant and independent, values that your family and friends and teachers tried to drill into you, but you couldn’t help creating day dreams of a man whom you could trust enough to let yourself be truly submissive to him, to allow him to make all of the difficult decisions and comfort you when you got upset.

You used to be certain you would find him, your soulmate who would do anything for you, who would be endeared instead of weirded out by your odd quirks, who would love you no matter what happened, but to be honest you were starting to lose hope. With the disaster of your first ever relationship — the one that ended abruptly with his death — you vowed to stay away from boys until you found the one.

This inevitably led to you spending more time indoors and refusing whenever your friends wanted you to join them in going to all the hottest clubs, simply because you were tired of the whole thing. By now, you had pretty much accepted that you would die a spinster surrounded by fourteen cats.

Your alarm blared again, somehow more grating and obtrusive than the first time, and your eyes flicked to the analog display, swearing quietly when you saw the time. You stumbled out of bed, internally cursing the day you decided to sign up to an early morning lecture class, a bizarre decision considering you were so much not a morning person that you gave Garfield a run for his money.

Speed-walking to class, you were thankfully ahead of schedule since you managed to get dressed at the speed of light, forgoing any kind of beauty routine beyond jamming a toothbrush in your mouth and scrubbing frantically. By a rare stroke of luck, this class was quite small so not many people would bear witness to the horror that was bare-faced you with partial bed-head.

Since you, surprisingly, had more than enough time, you decided to pop into your favourite coffee shop. The familiar tinkling bell went off as you entered but, instead of greeting your favourite barista Rosa at the counter with a sunny smile and your usual order already prepared, you came face to face with the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your life.

You locked eyes with him and watched, awestruck, as his full, pillow lips tugged up into a smile, exposing his perfect teeth. His eyes almost disappeared as he grinned, turning into twin crescents above mochi cheeks, so soft and adorable that you felt all the thoughts you ever had fly out of your head, all replaced by one overwhelming sense of… something.

Something strange, that you had never felt before, which made your knees weaken imperceptibly as you made your way to the counter, closer to this Adonis in human form.

He obviously noted your flustered state, which only intensified your embarrassment, and his adorable expression melted into a smirk that had your heart racing and your libido awakening with a vengeance. It was just unfair. The barista somehow managed to be cuter than any puppy you had ever seen in your goddamn life, and then turn you on more than you thought was physically possible.

If this was what a sexual awakening was, you didn’t know how people managed to refrain from having sex all day, every day. And then you were struck with the image of having sex all day, every day, with the Greek God of a barista, and decided there was not enough holy water in the entire world to cleanse you from your sins.

“Hello,” the absurdly attractive barista said, after several minutes of you wordlessly floundering in equal parts of embarrassment and arousal.

“My name is Jimin. What would you like me to make you?” I’d like you to make me come, your traitorous mind suggested, causing even more heat to rise to your cheeks.

“H-Hello… Jimin.” you stuttered, praying for the sweet release of death. The Adonis- Jimin - watched you expectantly, gaze fluttering from your eyes — wide as a deer’s caught in the headlights — to your cheeks — probably so red they had surpassed the visible spectrum and were now emitting radiation — and he chuckled. You wanted to cry. Of course he’d be one of those people with low, sultry chuckles.

“Do you want to tell me your order, Princess?” He questioned, when it became clear you were more focused on not melting into a puddle than telling him what drink you wanted, and you became certain you had died and gone to hell. This was torture, having this perfect specimen of humanity in front of you, having him call you ‘Princess’ with his bedroom eyes dark and mischievous, and choking on your own tongue.

His eyebrow quirked — and of course his eyebrows were just fucking perfectly shaped — and you somehow managed to pull yourself together enough to remember the order you had given every damn day of your life since discovering this godforsaken place, the place you would never come back to due to a mixture of shame and self-preservation (there was a real possibility you might just die if you ever saw Jimin again).

“V-Vanilla latte… please.” You practically whimpered, too distracted with your own internal chaos to notice him cooing over your choice quietly.

“A cute drink for a cute girl.” He smirked again before striding to the espresso machine to fulfil your order, leaving you shocked on the other side of the counter. He called you cute. Cute.

You had never been more aware of your makeup-free face and unbrushed hair, quickly swept up into a messy bun. Fuck, you could've had dried up drool on the corner of your mouth and you wouldn’t have even known it. He returned with your order just in time to catch you running your tongue over your bottom lip, the pink muscle darting out just in case you had missed any on the side of your face.

If you hadn’t been so focused on your own appearance, you would have noticed Jimin falter for a second, his eyes widening, fixed on your mouth.

You caught his attention and sealed your lips together firmly, determined to not let him think you were some weirdo who licked her lips excessively in public. His dark gaze made your mouth go dry. You tried to subtly swallow down the lump in your throat, but his eyes tracked the bob under your skin.

The two of you stood in an oddly charged silence for a moment before he remembered himself and handed over your latte.

Your skin brushed his and you held your breath, his hand pausing over yours for what felt like an eternity, but it was still too soon when you forced yourself to pull back. He smiled again, the adorable mochi-cheeked smile that still managed to turn you on despite its sweet and innocent appearance.

“There you go, Y/n.”

You were so flustered by the sound of his pillow lips curving sensuously over the syllables of your name that you didn’t even question how he knew it, content to stumble backwards out of the shop. You were still caught in his gaze until you backed straight into the door, knocking you out of your stupor and causing you to practically fly out of the shop, his warm laughter chasing you up the street.

You barely heard a thing during the lecture, your pen had dried out after you uncapped it and then did not replace the cap for a solid forty minutes, letting it rest on your blank notepad. The professor had given up calling on you and asking you to pay attention, drawing the conclusion that this was an off-day for his normally-attentive student. You were actually very focused at that moment, it was simply just not directed at the professor.

You were pouring over your memories of Jimin, recounting with perfect clarity how his soft-looking hair fell over his forehead perfectly. It looked so pretty and you would sell your soul for a chance to run your fingers through it. The corners of his perfect lips tugged upwards into a smile a million times in your imagination, and you wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by those lips, to have those lips running all over your body, dipping downwards and tasting-

The professor signalling the end of the class could not have come at a better time, and you rushed out of your seat as fast as your shaky legs could carry you, the heat coiling in your belly tugging you home. You spared a moment to thank past-you for not scheduling any other classes today, because, judging by the slight damp spot in your panties that was growing embarrassingly quickly, you would be quite busy for a while.

Jimin rushed home as soon as his shift ended. His elation invigorated his steps to the point where he was practically skipping. Holy shit. Holy shit. He had met you. He had talked to you and you had blushed and stuttered and been perfect in every single way. He always thought there was no way he could love you more than he already did but that was just another way you changed his outlook on life.

Seeing your beautiful face, devoid of makeup and yet still you put any work of art to shame, and hearing your soft voice speak his name — you knew his name, holy shit — and smelling your sweet perfume was a life changing occurrence for Jimin.

Of course, he had smelt your perfume before — he wrote down what scent you preferred when he broke into your apartment to place the cameras and he had a pillow at home that he doused with the stuff so that it smelled like you — but experiencing it in real life was on a whole other level.

He got back to his apartment and switched on the live feed just in time to catch you coming back from your lecture. Jimin cooed softly at the sight of you, your eyes were wide and vacant, distracted, and your cheeks were adorably flushed, like you had been rushing. You dumped your bag by the door — Jimin couldn’t wait until he could be the one holding your bag for you, having you tucked under his other arm — and went straight to the bedroom.

Jimin switched the feed to the bedroom cam, holding his breath in anticipation. When you came home and went straight to the bedroom, that usually led to-

You flung yourself on the bed and started working your pants down. Jimin stopped breathing entirely as he felt all the blood in his body, and possibly some extra, rush down south. He knew he should look away, should let you have this moment in private, but he found himself unable to stop palming his erection through his jeans.

He pulled his hand away briefly to turn up the audio feed, and your soft moans filled the air. Jimin almost came on the spot, but he forced himself to wait, he promised he would never come before you. Your lower half was entirely bare and Jimin’s mouth watered at the sight of your pretty pussy, wet and glistening, positioned in the perfect spot for him to see it, for him.

He tugged himself out of his jeans and spread the beads of precome over the head of his cock distractedly, watching as you teased yourself open with one finger. Fuck, you were so fucking tight. He could see the slight discomfort on your face as you thrusted your finger into yourself again and again, obviously trying to get yourself adjusted as fast as possible.

Jimin felt a curl of jealously flare up within him, even as he started pumping his fist up and down his cock faster. What had made you so desperate to come? Who had done this to you? As far as he was aware, there hadn’t been anything new that day so far, unless-

You started to relax, the finger gliding in and out so easily, aided by the slick coating your digit. His mouth dried up just thinking about the taste of you. Jimin watched as your head fell back, your eyes rolling in their sockets, and your perfect lips parted.

“Jimin,” you moaned, and Jimin almost blacked out.

He was so hard it was physically painful, but he gripped the base of his cock tightly, unwilling to come because he knew if he did he would miss the rest of your magnificent performance. You were properly riding your hand now, your hips rolling to meet your own thrusts, eyes shut tight, imaging something- imagining him. Jimin had never felt such sweet torture, needing to come so badly, but needing to watch you come more.

You moaned his name again, sounding more debauched than the first time, and Jimin knew you were close. He wanted so desperately to know what you were imagining him doing, so that he could recreate it with you once he had you. It was like you had read his mind, because a second later you granted his wish.

“P-please, daddy.” You moaned, and Jimin whimpered, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.

Daddy.

You were going to be the cause of his death and Jimin found that he didn’t mind at all.

“Ple-ease,” your begging was interrupted by a drawn out moan, and if Jimin could have thought straight at that point, he would’ve frowned. Imaginary Jimin was much crueler than Real Life Jimin. Real Life Jimin knew without a doubt he would give you anything in the world if you begged him like that.

“Fuck me, daddy, please,” You cried out, somehow managing to add a third finger, thrusting into your tight, tight wet heat, “Fuck your princess.”

You called out his name again as you came, and Jimin lasted a few seconds watching you pant and ride through the aftershocks of your orgasm before he simply loosened his tight grip on the base of his cock and finished.

When he regained consciousness, you were still splayed out on your bed, seemingly unable to move just like he was, but if he could move he knew he’d be jumping around the room in elation. This was undoubtedly the best day of his life, maybe even better than the one in which he first caught a glimpse of your angelic face.

He had met you in person for the first time, and you had been so obviously flustered by his presence, which was something that delighted him more than he could say and he had thought the day could not have gotten any better, but then you went home and masturbated and moaned out his name and called him daddy and then came with his name on your lips and Jimin honestly didn’t know how he was still breathing.

You were perfect, and amazing, and Jimin was almost mad at himself for not realising just how perfect you would be. He hadn’t anticipated you being this affected by him so soon. He had planned to gradually introduce himself into your life, ‘coincidentally’ running into you outside of the coffee shop after a few weeks, slowly integrating hang-outs and seamlessly turning them into dates. Shyly confessing his feelings after a month of being ‘friends’.

Jimin was not exactly a patient man, but you mattered more than anything to him, and he knew that he would have to be careful until you were so in love with him that you wouldn’t leave no matter what. That would be the point where he would break out the diaries and the videos, and bask in your gratitude that he was so enamoured with you from the very moment he met you, just like those romantic heroes in the books you were so fond of.

But at this rate, Jimin was practically ready to start shopping for engagement rings. He knew your ring size, of course, and your jewellery preferences due to studying your buying habits, but he managed to calm himself down enough to realise you probably wouldn’t appreciate a proposal just yet. But you were certainly attracted to him. Very attracted, Jimin thought smugly. He couldn’t exactly fault you though, since he had looked in a mirror before.

Jimin was an attractive man, he was fully aware many would call him stunning, and now he finally met his match: you. God, Jimin could not wait to see how amazingly perfect your children would be.

You chewed your lip as you ran over the dilemma in your head. It had been two days since you last went to The Roasted Bean. Coincidentally, it was also two days since you saw the most attractive man on the planet. And two days since you had the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced.

You were seriously craving your caffeine fix, and a small, perverted part of you that was heavily repressed was desperate to catch another glimpse of the beautiful barista, Jimin. But the last time you saw him, you embarrassed yourself so much you wouldn’t be surprised if he turned on his heels and fled at the sight of you.

It was so annoying. You had waited your whole life to meet the perfect guy, but the second you meet him, you realise that you can’t spend longer than three seconds in his presence without melting into a puddle of goo.

After another five minutes spent deliberating outside the coffee shop in the chilly weather, your nose had turned so red you could practically see its glowing reflection in the cafe window. You decided that the chances of Jimin even having a shift now were very slim, and it was even less likely that he would remember you.

He probably got reactions like that (maybe slightly less embarrassing ones) every day given how stupidly attractive he was. He probably had girlfriends to spare. You scowled. Getting jealous over a stranger’s hypothetical girlfriends? Wow, you really have hit a new low, you taunted yourself.

The door opened suddenly, shocking you out of your thoughts so much that you jumped, much to the amusement of whoever opened the door, judging by their chuckle. You looked up at them, and then regretted every life choice that brought you to that exact moment.

It was Jimin, because of course it was, and he looked as stunning as ever, his complexion glowing, his eyes shining, his existence in general devastating. He was in his cute little barista outfit, a fitted white button up and black apron that might as well be a runway look for how much it suited him.

“Are you going to come in, Y/n?” Holy shit he knows my name, you screamed to yourself, vaguely hoping your face had an expression of pleasant detachment and not the strange amalgamation of shock, delight and arousal that you were experiencing. He chuckled, shaking his head slightly as if privy to some inside joke.

“Yes, of course I know your name, Y/n.” You stopped dead in your tracks. Could barista boy read your mind?

“No, I can’t, you just say everything you’re thinking out loud, which is very cute. And you can call me Jimin, you know.” Oh, if you thought you were embarrassed last time, that was a sweet walk in the park compared to today. You cleared your throat quietly, refusing to let yourself be dumbstruck again.

“I do call you Jimin.” You replied, trying to make him believe that you remembered his name because God, you were unlikely to forget it. For some reason, this made him pause for a second, his expression darkening and his tongue darting out to wet his lip.

“I know you do, baby.” He said, low enough that you questioned whether he said it at all, and he had already moved past, slipped behind the counter as you advanced to be opposite him, just like you were when you first met.

“Vanilla latte, right?”

You really should stop getting shocked by Jimin’s seemingly eidetic memory.

“You remember my drink?”

“When a customer is as beautiful as you are, Princess, you tend to remember their drink.” You elected to ignore the way that nickname had your toes curling in your boots, and instead fixated on the pinch of jealousy in your gut.

“I guess you must remember many customers orders then.” You knew you sounded too jealous for someone he barely knows, but your strange possessive behaviour seemed to please him, for a small grin tugged his mouth upwards.

“Nope, just you, Princess.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

The question blurted itself out, bypassing both your common sense and your anxiety. Jimin, however, replied promptly.

“Yes.” His confidence, evident in the way he leaned over the counter and into your space, began to falter as you just stared at him wordlessly. “That is, if you want me to-”

“I do!” You blurted out again, and you really needed to gain a filter, but his confident smirk returned.

“Actually, I was going to say: if you want me to stop-”

“I don’t!” Jimin let out a laugh, eyes crinkling in the most adorable way, before he continued.

“Will you ever let me finish what-”

“No.” At that, he threw his head back, releasing a peal of laughter that you swore could’ve lit up the world with its brightness.

He finally stopped laughing, his eyes still swimming with ill-concealed mirth. You were pretty sure your cheeks were about three seconds away from setting the coffee shop and the surrounding neighbourhood aflame, so it was a relief when Jimin turned to the machine, snapping the mechanism into place, even if you felt a hint of disappointment when you lost sight of his beautiful smile.

God, even his back is sexy, you thought, watching as he tinkered with the various machinery behind the counter. At one point, he bent over to check the positioning of the cup and, well, you had never really paid attention to any guy’s ass before but maybe you should start because damn.

Finally, Jimin turned back to you with a perfectly made latte in his hands. You noted how cute his fingers were absently as they brushed yours. But, when you made to grab your drink, he retracted it suddenly, a Cheshire Cat grin on his face.

“Not so quickly, Princess.” You humphed,

“It’s funny, Jimin, you claim to know my name but you never use it.” He laughed again and you tried to convince yourself that your heart wouldn’t always skip a beat at that sound.

“Oh, so you want me to use your name, huh?”

“It’s only fair, considering you wanted me to use your name, Jimin.”

“Alright then, Y/n.” He purred, bending down to scribble your name on the cup, a bit unnecessary considering he could’ve just handed it right to you, but you got the sense he was trying to drag out your interaction for whatever reason.

He straightened up, the glint of mischief present again in his eyes, and you prepared yourself for another verbal sparring match.

“Do you not want me calling you Princess, then?” He winked at you as he said the nickname, which was frankly quite rude. You would have to send him a bill for all the batteries he made you buy, since your vibrator was definitely going to be running out of power soon thanks to him.

“I didn’t say that.” You hated how quiet and meek your voice came out.

“Oh, it sounds like poor little Y/n’s a bit confused. What do you prefer? Y/n? Or Princess?”

“S-stop it. You’re not funny. I’m going to class.” You spun around and marched towards the door, trying to ignore his laughter following you.

“Baby!” Jimin yelled, and, for some reason, you turned around.

“What?”

Jimin smirked when you responded to the new nickname. “Since you couldn’t decide, I thought I’d use Baby instead. Do you like it?”

“No! I mean, yes- no, I don’t. Goodbye.”

“Baby! Aren’t you forgetting something?” At that, you finally exploded, all the sexual frustration caused by him bubbling to the surface.

“What?” You yelled, “You want a kiss farewell?”

“I was going to say you’d forgotten your drink but, since you asked, I wouldn’t mind a kiss.”

You stomped back to grab your drink, avoiding his eye contact like the plague. As you took the cup your fingers brushed his and the odd, frustrated tension between the two of you dissipated into something almost tender. His skin was so soft and warm. Everything about him seemed so cozy and inviting, and hopeless romantic part of you wanted to sink into his arms and never be let go of.

You left before your tongue released the stupid feelings you were longing to express. Jimin couldn’t even watch you go because he was smiling so wide his eyes had disappeared into little crescents.

“-and then he called me baby!”

“Awww-” “Ew!”

Two very different reactions emerged from your friends as the three of you sat cross legged in your friend’s apartment, a haphazard ‘study session’ with open textbooks spread across the floor beside a half-empty takeout pizza box.

“Buttercup!” Two of you whined simultaneously at the third girl, who remained unbothered, tipping her head back to dangle a stretched slice of cheese into her mouth. The three of you had been practically joined at the hip since birth, and — due to an adolescent obsession with ‘The Powerpuff Girls’ — you each had a corresponding nickname, which had stuck as the years passed you by.

You had been nicknamed Blossom, due to your — usually — level head and desire to make peace whenever your two friends were fighting. Your friend — the one who had cooed at the ending of your story — was chosen to be Bubbles, given that she was the personification of candy floss and possibly the closest thing Earth had to a real life fairy.

Your second, much more cynical friend who was currently finishing her slice of pizza and determinedly not looking at Bubble’s puppy eyes, was Buttercup. Self-proclaimed hater of all romance. Given what happened with her parents in your teenage years, you couldn’t really blame her.

“That’s so romantic.” Bubbles sighed dreamily, before huffing slightly. “I wish you hadn’t told me that tonight. I have to study for-” She flushed delicately, “Mr Kim’s lecture and now I won’t be able to think about anything else but my maid of honour speech at your wedding.”

“Hey!” Buttercup interjected, “I’m going to be maid of honour!”

“But you don’t even like weddings-” Bubble started to protest, and you cut them both off.

“There will be no maid of honour!” You announced shrilly, before forcing yourself to relax. “And also, Bubble, you don’t need to study for Mr Kim’s lecture. It’s not like it’s a class or anything, he’s just a guest lecturer.”

“Yes, but…” Bubble mumbled, docilely accepting the pizza slice that Buttercup held up to her face and continuing to speak through a mouthful, “I wuhmfda fimprsh im.”

“What?”

Buttercup scowled, but translated for you.

“She wants to impress him. Gross.” She turned to Bubble. “Isn’t he, like, forty?”

“First of all, he’s in his mid-twenties at most,” You admonished Buttercup as Bubble let out an indignant wail, “and second of all, we were talking about my problem!”

“Oh, what was that again?” Buttercup drawled. You snatched the pizza slice out of her hand in retaliation.

“Jimin! The hot barista! Calling me baby! And, just, existing in general!”

“Oh, that,” Buttercup sighed, as if you hadn’t literally just been talking about it. “That’s simple. Just bang him.”

“I- You- What?” You spluttered as Bubble giggled quietly.

“You’re thinking of this too romantically, like you always do.” Buttercup continued, sounding fantastically confident for someone who had even less experience with relationships than you did. “You just need to bang him and realise that the feelings you’re having are all just repressed horniness.”

“I mean, I would’ve put it differently, but… I agree.” Bubble chirped, paying no attention to your embarrassed whine, “He definitely… sounds attracted to you, and clearly he’s not alone in that.”

“But… I’m a virgin.” You argued dumbly, and Buttercup snorted.

“Do you want to stay a virgin for the rest of your life?”

“No,” You replied, frowning, “…but… it’s kind of a big deal to me. I want it to be special.”

“Haven’t you already said that the guy is like the hottest person on the planet or something like that?” Buttercup asked, raising a lazy eyebrow. “Isn’t that special enough?”

You didn’t reply, too busy blushing furiously, and Bubble squeaked with excitement.

“Oh my god! He’ll be your one and only! This is so exciting!” She cheered, before abruptly slumping down. “I really wish you had told me this after Mr Kim’s lecture. I can’t study now, I’m too excited.” She mumbled forlornly, shutting the textbook and grabbing another slice of pizza. Your mind was still stuck on Buttercup’s suggestion.

“I mean… I barely know him. I just know his name. And his smile. And the way his eyes twinkle when he laughs, oh my god it’s so cute-”

“Y/n,” Buttercup interrupted you, a rare use of your actual name stopping you in your tracks as she framed your face with her hands and shook it gently. “Bang. Him.”

“I-”

“No, no,” She chided you, putting a finger over your mouth, “No overthinking. Just… do what you want to do. Okay?”

Okay, you repeated to yourself. What you want to do. What you want to do…

But what do you want to do?

“I want you to ask me out!” You blurted over the counter the next morning when you walked into the coffee shop and saw Jimin’s back facing you as he cleaned out the milk-frothing machine.

It was only when he turned around that you realised the guy was decidedly not Jimin, and this random stranger was now looking at you confusedly as you debated the advantages and disadvantages of sprinting out of the shop and directly into oncoming traffic.

It would be a quick and painless death, you mused absently, certainly much less painful than this-

“Y/n?” A voice interrupted your thoughts and you whirled around to see Jimin standing in front of the staff door, seemingly just ended his shift with his uniform off. Oh no, he’s even hotter without the apron, you realised miserably.

His gaze darted between you and not-Jimin, something strange and unfamiliar solidifying in his eyes.

“I didn’t know you knew Sungwoon.” He commented mildly, before shooting an abrupt glare at the other barista- Sungwoon, who hurriedly went back to work.

“Oh, I don’t.” You told him immediately, feeling some kind of compulsion to tell him the truth, “I thought he was you.”

The — anger? you weren’t quite sure, only directed at Sungwoon though, not at you — on Jimin’s face melted as realisation dawned. “Oh-” Then his face did something strange, morphing into a smirk which had you biting your lip. “Oh.” He purred, stepping closer to you. “So… you wanted to tell me something, baby?”

Oh no. He called you baby again. Someone call Life Alert.

“I- uh-” You stuttered, thoughts grinding to a halt as he approached you. And then closed his hand around your wrist. He was closing his hand around your wrist. If Bubble were here she’d be having a fit.

“Let’s go and sit down in a booth, huh?” He said smoothly, before tugging you along to the most secluded corner of the coffee shop. After he guided you onto the cushioned bench, he didn’t sit across from you, sliding right in next to you so you could feel the warmth emanating from his skin. He didn’t let go of your wrist.

You were trapped between the wall and him, and as he smirked down at you, you thought that the wall was probably more merciful.

“Anyway, baby, you were saying?”

All the courage which had somehow flooded into you as you stormed into the cafe had abandoned you, wasted on the not-Jimin who had moved onto wiping down the tables, studiously avoiding your corner.

“I…um,” You mumbled, wringing your fingers together nervously. Jimin stopped you by releasing his hold on your wrist and moving his hand upwards to intertwine with yours instead. Your breath hitched as he smoothed a thumb over the back of your hand gently.

“It’s okay, baby.” He said, his voice soft and comforting, “Just say it. I promise… whatever it is-” His lip quirked up slightly, “I won’t say no. I would never say no to you.”

“Never say never.” You mumbled, and he chuckled. You could feel the warm puffs of air brushing your cheek.

“Okay, um, please don’t laugh. I know we don’t really know each other or anything, but… I… like you.”

“You like me?” Jimin parroted, and you would worry he was mocking you, but his eyes were far too happy for that.

“Uh huh,” You replied quietly, squeezing his hand. He took your other hand in his, and you squeezed that one as well.

“Like… like me like me?” He asked, and you could tell he was joking now, so you whined and gave him a half-hearted shove. He shifted slightly, only to rear back and cage you in his arms, dragging you onto his lap.

“I’m sorry, baby,” He murmured, burying his nose in your neck, and you felt like you were going to melt in the middle of the cafe. All those romance books never told you how embarrassing it was to have someone actually pay attention to you. “You just look so pretty when you get teased. My cute little baby.”

You squirmed on his lap, and his hands came to grip your hips securely.

“Baby’s a little restless?” Jimin asked, his voice low, and you let out another little whine. His hands tightened.

“Does this mean… does this mean you like me too?” You asked timidly, and he huffed a laugh against your hair.

“What do you think, Y/n?” He asked, squeezing your hips playfully. After a moment, he softened, tilting his neck slightly to plant a kiss on the crown of your head. “I like you too much.” He said simply, making you flush.

“Well, that’s good, because I like you too much too.”

“You might even say that I like you-” Jimin wiggled his eyebrows, “-a latte!”

You didn’t react, and Jimin’s smile dimmed slightly.

“You know, because I’m a barista?”

“Actually, never mind, I don’t like you that much-” You said as you tried to shift off his lap, but he held you firmly, tugging you back with a smug laugh.

“No, baby, you won’t get away that easy.”

He pressed you back against the wall bordering the booth, and-

So this is what true love’s kiss is like, you thought, before you stopped thinking altogether.

His lips were soft against yours, but insistent as they slanted over your mouth and pressed urgently until you gave in and parted your lips. He swallowed your whimpers as he skilfully twisted his tongue around yours, licking and sucking and biting and-

He drew back so both of you could catch your breath, and you slumped forwards into him.

“Now I’ve got you…” He said, his voice gravelly from the kiss. You did that, you realised smugly. “Now I’ve got you, I’m never letting you go.”

You hummed happily, curling into his arms without protest. Of course he’d never let you go. Why would you want him to? You’ve finally found your fairytale ending, except you hope it never ever ends. And, just like he promised, Jimin never lets you go again.

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts #bts imagines #yandere bts #bts x reader #bts scenarios #yandere bangtan #bts jimin #bts jimin imagines #yandere jimin #soft yandere jimin #mfeeu #yandere jimin x reader #yandere bts x reader

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ahkaahshi · 4 years ago

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taste testing [hirugami sachirou x reader]

pairing: hirugami sachirou x fem reader

genre: smut (18+) and fluff

warning(s): explicit sexual content, food play, spitting, reader has one dom moment but I swear to god it’s very fleeting bc that’s not our brand here, and there’s not really any other warnings?? this one was kinda wholesome, good for the soul smut tbh

word count: 4.4k (episode #??? of why am I writing so much?? idk!!)

overview: a heatwave in combination with an accidental ice cream spill end up giving your boyfriend a new idea

“Should I be worried?”

Hirugami rolls his eyes at you mockingly from over his shoulder in response to your comment as you shuffle to one of the stools near the kitchen island. “C’mon, (f/n), have some faith in your reliable boyfriend, why don’tcha?” he teases, turning his attention back to whatever creation he’s concocted on the counter in front of him—which his tall figure blocks from your view.

With a chuckle, you comment, “Well, it’s not often that I get summoned to the kitchen by said boyfriend unless he wants me to try some crazy recipe he developed.” Grabbing the small fan sitting atop the wooden surface and activating its oscillating function so it can blow room temperature air towards you as well, you add, “Besides, with this stupid heatwave I wouldn’t be surprised if you accidentally set something on fire.”

“I cracked an egg on the floor earlier and it didn’t cook, so I think we’re still good, babe.”

His wittiness never fails to elicit a gentle snicker from you, no matter how foul your mood may be, so you can’t help letting one out in spite of your current circumstances. Much to your dismay, the air conditioning unit had decided to succumb to the increased temperatures outside, leaving the two of you in a nearly unbearably hot apartment. Luckily, the power hadn’t gone out, so the two of you were able to keep fans running, and you were able to stick your head in the fridge while he stuck his in the freezer above it. The situation could be much worse, but that knowledge didn’t make it any less unpleasant.

You hadn’t worn a shirt at home in days, resorting to lazing around in a sports bra or bralette and shorts most of the time. Today was no different, and you appreciated every blast of air that the sheen of sweat on your chest and abdomen cooled down each time the fan turned your way. From where you’re sitting, you’re able to admire the ridge of every bone or muscle beneath your boyfriend’s toned back, since he’s only wearing a pair of athletic shorts.

“Well,” he begins, his voice snapping your gaze from his exposed skin to his warm, brown eyes when he peers at you from over his shoulder once more, “wanna know what I made today?” Your enthusiastic approval prompts him to turn away from the counter and place two bowls atop the island filled with a treat you can instantly recognize. “I made some ice cream earlier this morning, and it’s extra cool since I just took it out of the freezer.”

He marvels at the look of awe and excitement on your face as you admire his handiwork, since he’d gone the extra mile to decorate his dessert with chocolate and caramel syrup, some fruit, and a dollop of whipped cream. “Wow! Look at you!” you exclaim before placing your hand around the back of his neck to pull him closer for an appreciative kiss, “Thank you. This looks really good.”

“You sure you’re not just blinded by love?”

Playfully, you give his arm a gentle smack where he stands opposite you, elbows resting on the countertop as he patiently waits to see your reaction to his creation. Prickles of heat rise to your cheeks at the way he’s staring at you so intently, as if he could do so all day long. A small grin forms on your lips when you pick up the spoon resting in the bowl and carefully scoop out a generous serving of the ice cream he’s so carefully prepared. The refreshing coolness and sweet flavor it spreads across your tongue when you place the spoonful in your mouth has you humming with satisfaction and closing your eyes momentarily.

“It’s really good, Sachi,” is the praise that leaves your mouth once you’ve swallowed. You’re soon digging in for another bite, making him laugh at your eagerness. “Seriously, if you hadn’t chosen to be a vet, you could’ve definitely been a pastry chef or something with all the desserts you’ve made for me.”

Wiggling his spoon between his fingers pensively, he wonders, “Maybe I should start an Instagram page, take pictures of my creations, and climb my way to fame in the pastry-loving community.”

“Oh, you’d have so many followers.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re a hottie who likes to bake. Simple as that. Trust me,” you explain, reaching over to him to brush his waves of brown hair away from his face, “you’ll have women all over the world sending you tokens of their love and commenting heart or fire emojis underneath your posts. You might even get to be on a talk show if you’re successful enough.”

He nods towards the living room, indicating that he wants to sit down at the table with you to eat and asks, “Is that so? And where are you in all of this?”

You place your hands beneath the cold bowl of dessert and scoot off the stool so you can seat yourself on the floor beside him instead. “Professional taste tester slash content curator slash manager,” you answer with confidence before dipping another spoonful of ice cream between your lips curled in a self-assured smile.

“So fancy,” he states, sending a small wink your way that has your heart fluttering in your chest—as if he’s a high school crush who’s noticed you rather than your boyfriend of three years. Holding up his metal spoon filled with ice cream towards you, he suggests, “Should we toast on our new business deal, then?”

With a giggle, you raise your spoon to his so you can clink them together and continue enjoying the delicious treat he’d prepared just for you. In between scoops, you reach for the television remote to turn it on so you can watch something other than a dark screen and distract yourselves from the stifling heat flooding your home in any way possible. As you’re eating, trying to finish off the ice cream before it melts entirely, you end up accidentally spilling some of it on you.

The squeal you release at the iciness of the dessert trailing down your chin and onto your chest startles Hirugami, and his attention snaps to you instantly. Shuddering at the sensation of the ice cream sliding down your sternum, heading towards the low neckline of your sports bra like it’s on a race against time, you quickly scan the room for any napkins you can grab. “I got it,” your boyfriend offers, placing his bowl down on the table and shifting closer to you.

At first, you think he’s going to reach for the tissues you’d spotted nearby, but you find yourself frozen in place when he suddenly dips his head towards your chest to drag his tongue along your skin. The sensation of the wet muscle gliding along your chest, from the dip of your cleavage all the way up to your chin, has you shivering for an entirely different reason, and he meets your wide-eyed gaze with his calm one once he’s finished.

“Did I get it all?” he questions, purposely feigning cluelessness, as he enjoys doing to tease you.

There are a few beats of silence spent watching one another while you try to regain your composure. Hirugami always found little ways to surprise you, whether he was welcoming you home with something special he’d baked or spreading your legs apart to dive between them after he’d had a rough day. He’d never once attempted the feat he’d just done; however, you find that you’re surprisingly aroused. He seems to notice his actions have had what he deems to be a desirable impact on you when he sees you clench your thighs together and dip your spoon into the ice cream once more.

With intrigue reflected in his gentle eyes, he watches you intentionally press the spoon to your collarbone so the substance can drip down your chest, leaving small, rivers of color over the bones beneath your skin and the shape of your breasts. A somewhat innocent grin spreads across your lips when you feel the ice cream sink below the neckline of your sports bra.

“Hmm,” he murmurs, turning away from you momentarily to grab the bottles of syrup and can of whipped cream he’d brought along with him from the kitchen, “Might as well make this an entire sundae, don’tcha think?” You swallow thickly as he pops open the caps and tasks himself with drizzling the syrup over your chest, deviating from the area once he’s satisfied with his work and allowing a few drops to fall onto your lips.

His tone is sugary sweet, but there’s a devious glint in his eyes. All you can do is nod and lean into the arm he wraps around your back, letting your head roll back so your neck and chest are fully exposed to him. Your heartbeat is quick underneath his tongue when he pulls the top of your sports bra down enough for him to dip it inside and start collecting the trails of ice cream and syrup he’s used to decorate your skin. Almost instinctively, you arch your back towards him in a silent plea for him to give your breasts more attention, but he ignores your request for now and moves up your sternum, towards your chin once more.

When his lips meet yours, the taste of his tongue is sweet as it slides along your own, making you moan softly into his mouth. His hand on your back moves to your waist before traveling up to your shoulder and plucking at the strap of your bra. “Take this off for me,” he requests between heated kisses, “Actually, take your shorts off too, and wait for me in the bedroom. I wanna taste what I made on every inch of you.”

Though you’re hesitant to leave his tight grasp and part your lips from his, you oblige his request and head for the bedroom. After grabbing a towel and laying it out across the comforter so it doesn’t get stained, you strip off the little clothes you’re wearing—but leave your underwear on. Not long after you’ve situated yourself atop the mattress, Hirugami wanders into the room with all the food items he wants to adorn your bare body with.

“Want some?” he asks upon seeing your attention shift to the can of whipped cream when he sets it down atop the bedside table. After receiving a nod from you, he says, “Close your eyes and open your mouth for me, baby.” You do as your told, your heart racing with anticipation as waves of adrenaline course through your veins. The crackling of the whipped cream spurting through the tip of the can reaches your ears moments before you feel his breath fan over your face and his tongue press the cool topping against yours, guiding it into your mouth.

Your hands move to his shoulders to pull his hot body closer to yours, wanting to feel every inch of his skin burning against you in spite of how unbearably warm the apartment is. Your kisses are messy, but neither of you mind, considering how sweet they taste and how intense the craving you have for one another is becoming. When he pulls away from you, he looks uncharacteristically disheveled—cheeks and lips tinted red with warmth, a hint of whipped cream at the sides of his mouth, and his eyes clouded over by an undeniable lust. Because of how calm and composed he usually is, it thrills you to see him like this.

However, his lips are quick to form a grin, as if he finds it entertaining that you saw him in a moment of discomposure. In an instant, he’s reaching for the ice cream nearby and standing beside the bed with a pensive look on his face, like an artist pondering what he should paint on his blank canvas. You squirm a bit under his intensely focused gaze, but soon shiver at the cool sensation of the previously frozen treat dripping onto your chest once more, navigating along the natural ridges and valleys of your body.

As he drizzles ice cream and syrup along your exposed skin in a way that makes sense to him, your attention flits between the look of admiration in his eyes and the prominent bulge in his shorts. He sees where your gaze is drawn and chuckles before picking up a strawberry and pressing it to your lips, which you open to take a bite. At noticing how the juice makes your lips shimmer tantalizingly, he can’t help but swoop in for another open-mouthed kiss. But it’s short-lived, since he’s eager to taste the creation he’s made on your torso instead.

Once more, he opens his mouth and drags his tongue along your skin, being sure to trace every path that the dessert has taken along your figure. You release a small mewl and place your hands on his head, weaving your fingers into his soft hair when he grazes your breast with his nose and lips. The whimpers of appreciation and increasing strength of your grip spur him to lick and suck one of your hardened nipples while he gently pinches the other, coaxing more breathless cries from your mouth at the dull throbbing that’s building in your core.

“Mm,” he hums, sending pleasant vibrations through your body, “so sweet. Want a taste?”

You nod when his face returns to your field of view, hovering over your own as he watches you intently. Your lips part naturally, waiting for him to meet them with his own, but, instead, he places his hand on your jaw and prods your lower lip, signaling for you to open wider. The pucker of his lips soon brings you to the realization that he intends to spit into your mouth—and while you thought you’d be repulsed by the idea; you find yourself sticking your tongue out expectantly. With curiosity, you watch as a glob of saliva leaves his mouth, finding purchase on your tongue and rolling back towards your throat. There’s a pleasant tinge of sweetness to it that you hadn’t fully anticipated, but that you appreciate as you swallow.

The way he’s watching you with such rapture makes your heart pound in your chest. In an instant, he’s occupying your lips once more with his own, showering them with passionate kisses as his long fingers trail down your torso, making their way to the lacy edge of your panties. You hold his body flush against yours, creating a sticky mess between your chests of syrup and ice cream as you wiggle your hips needily and take his lower lip between your teeth. An airy chuckle leaves his throat at your antsy behavior, but he’s soon indulging you by slipping his hand between the delicate fabric and your skin.

His lips soon travel in the same direction as your fingers so he can lap up any of the toppings he’s drizzled along your neck and collarbone while his fingertips tease you by lightly running up and down the length of your slit. Your grip on his shoulders tightens in response to the sensation of his digits coated in your essence sliding along the sensitive skin before one of them takes to tracing circles around your clit while the others slide inside of your tight core.

“Sachirou…” you whine softly, hips bucking against his touch as you feel your body temperature start to rise. Though you love the way his fingers feel inside of you, curling to reach the spongey region within you, and on your bundle of nerves, you’re desperate to feel his tongue since he’s been using it everywhere but where you want it the most. “Could you…?”

He seems to already know what you’re about to ask him, since he responds to your half-finished question with, “You want me to eat you out, baby?”

A breathless “Yes,” from you prompts him to give your neck a few gentle kisses before he removes his hand from inside your soaked panties and moves his head between your legs, treating himself to any food still left on your skin along the way. He presses his lips to the inside of your thighs before taking the fabric separating your dripping pussy from his mouth in his teeth and dragging it down your legs. Once he’s used his hands to slide it all the way off, he casts a somewhat devious glance upwards at you as he blows on your clit, making you squirm beneath his grasp.

You’re about to scold him for teasing you when you’re so vulnerable, but his gently spoken words give you pause: “You’re so beautiful, (f/n).” Moments after the compliment leaves his lips, he’s pressing them against your pearl, followed by his tongue.

The pleasurable burn you feel from his hot breath dancing along your exposed slit has you moaning loudly and sinking your fingers into his hair to inch him closer to your pussy. It’s evident he knows your body like the back of his hand, since he’s precise about his actions, being sure to vary his pace and intensity to make the buildup to your orgasm as enjoyable for you as possible. Where his large hands rest on your thighs, his fingers loosen and tighten their grip, kneading your supple skin. Every needy movement of your hips towards his face has him uttering a gentle groan, reminding you of the satisfaction he always receives from getting you off.

However, in spite of feeling the knot in your stomach loosening with each hungry swipe of his tongue along your clit, you move your hands to the side of his face to nudge him away from you. The confusion he feels is evident in his gaze and furrowed eyebrows, but it soon morphs into one of excitement when you sit up on the bed and motion for him to join you. Before he sits down, you tug at the waistband of his shorts and regard him with a demure gaze through your eyelashes that he reacts to subtly by biting his lip.

With a nod, he allows you to strip them off, then plops onto the comforter beside you and pulls you into his lap. Reaching towards the bowl on the bedside table, you grab another strawberry and the can of whipped cream so you can take the fruit between your teeth and offer it to him with your mouth. The gentle smile he wears spreads onto your own lips when he leans down towards you to carefully take the rest of the strawberry in his own mouth. His lips meet yours in a sweet kiss before you pull away to finish chewing the halves you’ve split with each other.

Grabbing the whipped cream this time, you place the nozzle in front of his mouth, prompting him to open it for you. However, you misfire and end up covering his nose with the fluffy topping instead, sending the two of you into a fit of laughter that he only fuels by using it to smear the whipped cream along yours as well. In spite of the stagnant warmth in the apartment, only disturbed every now and then by a gust from the nearby fan, you find yourself pressing your forehead against his and draping an arm around his shoulders to pull him closer.

The kisses you share are heated and passionate in spite of the sweetness lingering in both of your mouths. Your chest is sticky against his with remnants of food and sweat, but he doesn’t seem to care, since he places his hands on your waist to hold your torso flush against his, only moving them up and down the sides of your body occasionally to feel the shape of you against his palms. Your free hand moving between the two of you to gently stroke his erection elicits a breathless and somewhat surprised moan from his vocal cords that empowers you to curl your fingers around it.

As much as he loves having your hand around his cock, he seems to want more of you, since he’s breaking the connection between your lips to suggest, “Let me fill you up, yeah? I’ll make you feel so good.” Once he’s received enthusiastic consent from you, he gently pulls your hips over his, before slowly guiding you onto his dick, being careful not to hurt you in the process. Low grunts rumble through your own throat when he presses his lips against your neck to trail open-mouthed kisses along your tender skin as he eases inside of you.

Once he bottoms out, you place your palm on the center of his chest to give him a playful push down onto the bed so you can rest your hands at either side of his muscular torso to support yourself as you begin grinding your hips against his. A smirk creeps onto his lips at your sudden act of dominance, since you both know it won’t be long before his large body’s hovering over yours as he plows you into the mattress until your mind is so blank that all you can say is his name overand over again. But he’ll let you have your fun for now, since he knows you like riding him, especially after he’s had a long day and you don’t want him to have to do any extra work.

Plus, he can’t complain when the view above him is spectacular.

“There you go, baby,” he praises, chocolate brown eyes darting down to your hips undulating against his as you take him deeper, “God, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous.”

His compliments spur you to increase your pace until beads of sweat are glistening on your skin and your body’s starting to shake from both fatigue and pleasure. Each slam of his cock into your sensitive core sends shocks of ecstasy through you, and you know—with the way he’s meeting your hips with thrusts of his own to reach your most receptive spot—that you won’t last long. “S-Sachi!” you cry wantonly, reaching for the hands he has gripping your waist to hold onto them for support, “Harder, please. I’m so close!”

“Don’t worry, pretty girl, I’ll make you cum,” he responds huskily. His face contorts ever so slightly with exertion as he pulls your hips down so he can snap his against them, filling the room with loud smacks of your skin meeting. Upon feeling your hips stutter beneath his palms, he quickly sits up and guides you onto your back so he can plunge deeper inside of you at a much faster pace. “That feel good?”

“Yes! Yes, it’s—ahh—so good, baby!” You’re surprised by your ability to form coherent words while he’s balls-deep inside of your pussy, filling your entire body with pleasure that’s nearly too much to bear. “Please!”

You don’t have to finish your sentence for him to understand what you’re trying to say, since his pace and intensity have you coming undone for him only a few moments after you’ve spoken. His voice is low and guttural as he growls, “Mm, just like that,” at feeling your walls flutter around him affectionately. Your loud cries of his name fill his ears, edging him closer to his own orgasm as he fucks you through yours. “You feel s-so good,” he rasps, “C’mon, make me cum. Yeah, that’s it; that’s it, baby.”

Soon, the sensation of being inside your tight heat as you squeeze him lovingly has him finishing with a string of expletives, followed by praises rolling off his tongue. Hot spurts of his release filling you up in the midst of your high have you mewling breathlessly until you’re left in a euphoric haze that renders your entire body too heavy to move. Once Hirugami’s ridden out his orgasm as well, he lets out a long sigh of both exhaustion and satisfaction before sinking into the bed beside you.

A few minutes of silence ensue as the two of you regain your breath and find the energy to move once more. In a tender gesture, Hirugami grabs the towel beneath you and uses it to wipe off any remaining food or sweat that’s accumulated on your skin before doing the same with his own body. As the two of you lie together, staring up at the ceiling while waiting for the fogginess to subside, you hear a familiar click that instantly makes you hold your breath with anticipation. Sure enough, the sound is followed by a familiar whirring, then a cool breeze against your skin from the vent on the ceiling.

“Yes!” you cheer, clenching your hand into a fist to express your gratitude towards the workers who have finally fixed your air conditioning unit.

With a small hum of contentment, Hirugami extends his arm out towards you to bring you closer to his chest. Now that there’s cold air circulating around the room, you welcome the gesture and curl up beside him. “Well, now that the AC’s working, does that mean you don’t want any more ice cream?” he wonders, lips brushing against your temple before he presses a kiss to it.

“Of course not! I mean, as long as you still have some that’s actually frozen.”

He laughs nervously and admits, “Full disclosure: I got a bit carried away and made enough to last for at least a few weeks, I think.” Upon seeing the incredulous look on your face, he elaborates, “I followed a recipe created by someone for her son’s birthday party of like thirty kids, so… that’s a lot of servings.”

“Sachirou!” you laugh, nuzzling your face in his neck, “Why did you do that?”

“Didn’t know how long the AC would be out. I thought I planned ahead pretty well, actually.”

“In that case, I would love to have some more of your ice cream.” He beams at you and pulls you into a hug so tight that your skin is sticking together when you pull away. “But let’s go in the shower first. Please.”

“Don’t know what to make next, though,” Hirugami murmurs as he sits up before grabbing onto your hands to help you into a seated position so the two of you can head into the bathroom. “But,” he adds, turning to you and leaning down towards you so he can press a chaste kiss to your lips, “what I do know is that I’d love be able to sample it on you again.”

treat me to a coffee! ⭐︎ kinktober masterlist

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen, @devlovesramen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin, @kac-chowsballs, @osamusmiya, @nit-sir-hc, @arixtsukki, @shinsurou, @ichorizaki

hirugami: @hqxreader, @pretty-setters, @misora-msby, @atsunakaashi

#haikyuu x reader #hirugami sachirou x reader #hirugami x reader #haikyuu smut #ahkaahshi gets wild #ahkaahshi's mini kinktober 2020 #fran writes hq!!#hq smut #x reader #reader insert #haikyuu fanfiction #hirugami sachirou #hirugami sachiro

206 notes · View notes

stanfordsweater · 3 years ago

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i was tagged by @aftershocked for this getting to know you game! thanks for the tag 🤗 there’s a clean copy at the end for people who want to do this

1. why did you choose your url?

i wanted to be stanfordhoodie but someone’s hoarding it, and i’m glad because i like the alliteration of this more anyway :) i have a headcanon that sam had a red stanford hoodie that jess used to wear around their apartment and he loved seeing her in his clothes but it burned up when she did. he flinched at that particular shade of red for a long time.

2. any sideblogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them.

i have a whole ‘nother blog that i’m not outing here with pictures of my face and whatnot, but i will list all the urls i have hoarded! tradwifedean, samhoodie, stanfordedu, henleysam, fratboyjared, and patricided. i saved all of them when people were making safe sammy blogs because i am a petty bitch, but if anyone wants one hit me up (not giving up patricided or stanfordedu, though)

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

2011-ish but i only came on maybe once a year between 2016 and 2019. the pandemic ruined me.

4. do you have a queue tag?

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

i was on sam stan gen spn tumblr after the finale, mostly for memes, and when i eventually started my rewatch a few months ago and i was like ... oh... i actually still like this show a lot. the negativity in that corner bums me out! supernatural is fun and there’s a lot of deeper threads to the storylines. if i see one more post about supernatural accidentally saying something about, idk, family trauma or whatever, i’m going to throw eggs at the op.

legit criticism of spn is important (for example, the blatant racism in gordon’s storyline, kevin’s entire character being a stereotype, the episode focused on linda tran referencing “tiger mommy,” the colourism even amongst the black characters, how dirty they did jake talley... i could keep going 😐) and i’ve seen people using the memes about supernatural doing everything accidentally to push back against people talking about the very real racism in the show. pretending that these things weren’t deliberate as a way to get notes is insulting from a writing perspective (y’all really don’t know how tv shows work, huh?) but more importantly it offers a handy excuse for legit criticism to be swept under the rug because ‘nobody thought about it that hard 🙄’

that got a bit ranty, lol i’m definitely not saying that every non-bibro in the fandom is annoying, but i wanted a place to gush over how much i fucking love sam and dean’s relationship + what parts of the show i adore, so i made this blog and came out of the s/d closet.

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

sam is cute.

7. why did you choose your header?

sam is pretty.

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

hmmm [opens up tumblr note counter] the first cap post i made for supernatural has the most notes, but that’s because it breached containment. i posted that before i blocked half the fandom 😬

9. how many mutuals do you have?

hahaha i’m not gonna count them but i’m very protective of my dashboard so almost everyone i follow is a mutual!

10. how many followers do you have?

one of my favourite parts of tumblr is that they don’t publicly show followers, so i’m gonna skip this one

11. how many people do you follow?

~150, and this is after i went on a following spree when i was sad about my dash being dead. turns out that everyone just happened to be busy on the same weekend, and now i can’t scroll my dash anymore, lol

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

yes

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

i check in about once every hour and scroll through a page or two. if i have time i’ll sit down for an hour and actually go through my dash, but that usually only happens if i’ve been too busy to check in during the day. (diagnosed with terminally online disease)

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

yeah, a dean stan anti came on one of my finale posts and told me i was personally responsible for society not taking real life suicidal people seriously. blocked and deleted my response, but there were ~five people who came to my defense, so thanks to all of them!

15. how do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

they’re really annoying! originally i liked them, because i’ve been around long enough that i saw them back when they were earnest. these days i tend to avoid the post out of reflex. i reblog a fair amount to my main (especially when there’s a protest/disaster going on and it has links to resources, etc)

16. do you like tag games?

yes :) it feels like we’re having a slumber party and we’re all holding hands

17. do you like ask games?

every once in a while, yeah! i reblog them when i’m in the mood.

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

jaredfuckerkripke, but more like tumblr notorious for that url <3

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

there’s people where i get a little blushy when they reblog my posts, but that’s just when i admire them because it feels like validation that i’m liking supernatural the right way...

20. tags?

hmmm... anyone who wants to do this, but i’m singling out @balefully @moonlightdistractions @prince-of-elsinore @nebulairis

clean copy:

1. why did you choose your url?

2. any sideblogs? if you have them, name them and why you have them.

3. how long have you been on tumblr?

4. do you have a queue tag?

5. why did you start your blog in the first place?

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp?

7. why did you choose your header?

8. what’s your post with the most notes?

9. how many mutuals do you have?

10. how many followers do you have?

11. how many people do you follow?

12. have you ever made a shitpost?

13. how often do you use tumblr each day?

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

15. how do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

16. do you like tag games?

17. do you like ask games?

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

19. do you have a crush on a mutual?

20. tags?

#no pressure to those i tagged buuut i'd love to see your responses #about #.txt

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thephantomofthe-internet · 5 years ago

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Read Into Me Chapter Two: The Importance of Being Earnest

Steve Harrington x Reader

Catch up on the series HERE

Word Count: 2,030

Warnings: Swearing, death illusion

Author’s Note: This chapter is a bit shorter than I’d like, but I promise that the next one is longer! Also, some of the tags aren’t working for some users, so I’m so sorry if you aren’t getting notifications for this series! If you know how to fix this lemme know!

Tags: @divinity-deos @thecaptainsgingersnap @wolfish-willow @scoopsohboi @herre-gud-nej @clockworkballerina @maddie1504 @i-am-trash-so-much-its-scary @banjino-in-the-whole @buckysarge @wildcvltre @stanleyyelnatsiii @t0rment0 @10blurredsmoke10 @unussuallchild10 @n3wtscaseofniffler5 @alwaysstressedout @peterparxour @linkispink1995 @asharpknife @a-big-ball-of-idk @used-avocado @mochminnie @sledgy14 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect

Steve was so very fucked. He’d been sat at his desk since he got home from school and could not think of a single fucking thing to write. He’d had his notebook open, his typewriter loaded with paper, pen uncapped and waiting to be used, and the most work he’d done was chew on its blue cap. He just couldn’t think.

Writing was not his thing. Reading was not his thing. School was not his thing. He had lines of trophies on his nearly empty shelf-swim meet, track and field, basketball, and baseball for one summer in fifth grade. He could understand how to play a sport. That was competitive, improvisational, and had a core outcome-you won, lost, or tied. The same three outcomes with a million ways to do it, a million variables to get in the way. Math and science were the same, he could swing Cs and Bs in those classes, but English was the opposite. There were too many opinions. Too many options. When he managed to read one of the assigned books for class and not merely the Cliff’s Notes, he found he had nothing to say about it. Everything the author said felt true, even when his teachers were telling him to look for specific things in the narrative. Sure, if someone told him that the conch shell in Lord of the Flies meant something, but if you asked him what he wouldn’t know. And he would believe you if you said that the conch shell didn’t mean anything. His essays were all crap.

He thought about calling Nancy. Nancy would know exactly how to help him, she always did. But Nancy was with Jonathan now and he wasn’t confident that they were still friends at all. If they were ever friends. He didn’t think that they were. They weren’t really friends before they dated. Still, his hand hovered over the egg shell white rotary phone on his desk, a gift from his eleventh birthday. He lifted the phone off its hook, dialling the number off by heart. It took three rings for someone to pick up.

“Eleven?” Mike Wheeler’s frantic voice came through the other end. Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes, the boy was far too attached to that girl, it was honestly concerning.

“Nah dude it’s Steve, your sister around?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.

“She’s out with Jonathan.” Mike’s voice dropped into one of boredom. “You know, her boyfriend?” he was such a little shit sometimes.

“Yeah, I know dipshit, you wanna tell her I called when she gets back?” Steve huffed back.

“If I remember.” With that, the call went dead. Steve groaned, rolling his eyes as he slammed the receiver back onto the hook. What a fucking waste of time. He’d never hear back now, that kid didn’t like him from the start and would do whatever he could to keep them from being friends.

What was to be done now? He didn’t have anything to say about his spring break! Mr. Lawrence was a bastard for even asking him to write about it. Nothing happened! His parents went to Miami Beach to rekindle their marriage for the hundredth time and left Steve at home alone. He tried to throw a party but almost got busted by the cops with a fake ID at the Pick n’ Save and Tommy’s brother wouldn’t give them any weed to supplement what would’ve been a pretty dry party. He cancelled the party after that and sat at home alone. Nothing much to tell about and definitely wouldn’t fill a page, even if he used the longest words he knew.

Steve stood from his desk, looking through his shelf till he found the heavy yellow pages he’d put on the bottom of his shelf to weigh the sucker down so it wouldn’t fall over as fast. He flipped it open, searching through the numbers till he found what he was looking for, lifting the receiver off its hook again.

Across the street, you were sprawled out on your rose printed bedspread, your head in your hands with Samantha sat on your desk chair, laughing at your pain. “You know it’s not that bad, right? You could’ve gotten stuck with someone way worse.” She said, mindlessly digging through the black jewellery box sat dusty in the corner of your desk. Your mother had sent it from Spain and had filled it with different things she found across Europe. You didn’t care much for the stuff yourself but you kept it on your desk to show that you used it, not that she was ever home to seemed to notice.

Your bedroom was clean and stark white. It used to be pink, to match the rest of your white iron rod and pink padded furniture. You didn’t like the pink that much, and you didn’t adore the white, but you could hide it behind the art you tacked to the wall. Every portrait, still life, and landscape painting you’d been proud of hung proudly in your home gallery. You’d done recreations of your favourite album covers, and splatter art with balloons, and a few charcoal drawings of your grandparents and your father. You’d painted clouds and stars on your ceiling when you were in middle school, and while they had a lot of room for improvement, you left them above your head as a comfort to you. Your father had helped you scrape the popcorn ceiling down flat and helped paint the ceiling sky blue. It was your last project together.

“Oh yeah totally…” you said through your hands, refusing to look at her, focusing instead on the yellow sun spots floating under your eyelids.

“I mean, you could’ve gotten stuck with Tracy Lords again, she’s in that class.” Samantha replied easily, pulling out a green sea glass bangle from the top drawer, running her fingers over the red velvet interior of the box. Tracy Lords was a menace to productivity, at least she was according to Samantha. They had issues, which meant that you did too by association, but she’d done nothing to you except glare and pop her gum at you.

“At least she does her work!” you sat up, letting your feet dangle over your bed. “I don’t think he’s ever done his work on time, he’s always late with stuff!”

“That’s not your problem; as long as you do your work then Lawrence won’t care.” She flashed the bangle in front of your face “You should wear this more it’s nice.”

You shrugged “You can have it if you want.” You didn’t really care about what your mother sent you, it didn’t change the fact that she didn’t care enough about you to be home for more than a month out of the year. Besides, where on earth were you supposed to wear any of it? Your mother loved to spend your father’s riches on random, useless crap and you hated the idea of showing off the money your father died for. It wasn’t anything to brag about.

“Nah, not my style, it won’t match any of my stuff.” She put the bracelet back, closing the box with a metallic thump. “But anyway, you’ll be fine. Steve’s completely harmless.” You weren’t exactly sure if you believed her.

The phone on your desk blared loudly. You begrudgingly jumped off the bed, pulling it off the hook. Your grandmother was still at the hair salon and if you didn’t answer, one of her little friends from the old folk’s home might think that she died again.

“Hello?” you asked, motioning for Samantha to move over a bit, closing your white curtains closed again, your eyes scanning the streets with a bored expression.

“Hey is this Y/N?” Steve asked cautiously. He couldn’t quite remember your voice but he had double checked your last name in the year book and the phone book.

“Yeah, who is this?” dread filled your stomach the second he spoke, you were hoping against hope that it wasn’t Steve. You could see him pacing his window from across the street.

“Hey it’s Steve from English?” Fucking hell. You wanted to slam the damn receiver onto its hook. But if you did that, Samantha would think that you were crazy and you didn’t want to seem like such a baby.

“Oh hey what’s up?” you asked cautiously. Samantha was pulling at your sleeve, mouthing ‘Who is it?’ at you. You pulled your arm away, pushing her chair away from you with your foot.

“Oh nothing much, I was just wondering how your paper’s going?” Steve didn’t really know why he called you, he wasn’t certain that you’d even help him if he asked. He hardly knew you, he couldn’t name two things about you. But you seemed smart, you could be of some help if he had the balls to ask for it.

“Oh um…it’s fine. How’s yours going?” your hand came to the back of your neck, rubbing it awkwardly. You wanted to run away, to utterly disappear into another dimension. You didn’t like strangers, especially the whole small talk part. You didn’t feel like you had anything interesting to say about yourself and you hated silence. Your mind just didn’t come up with questions to ask.

Steve’s face burned. He couldn’t admit that he was stupid now; he was hoping that he wasn’t the only idiot in the class. “Oh um it’s good! I’m almost done.” He said, mentally cursing himself for saying that he was anywhere near finished.

“Oh cool. Do-do you want to switch them off tomorrow?” Now you had no idea what this phone call was even about. In the back of your mind, you assumed that he just had a question about the essay, but now you had nothing to grab onto.

“Yeah sure, that works for me.” He said, looking to his empty paper. He was so totally screwed now. He couldn’t admit that he was an idiot to you, not when you already had everything so clearly understood. You spoke so confidently, it made him feel small and pointless.

“Okay…I’ll see you in class then.” You said. Steve bid an awkward goodbye and you both hung up unsure what the hell had just happened.

Samantha was on her feet, jumping on your mattress “Did Steve Harrington just call you?!?” she cried, following it was it a giddy scream. You hushed her, rolling your eyes.

“It’s nothing to freak out about, you weirdo!” you countered, turning to face her fully with a sullen expression. Your heart was still pounding hard in your chest, adrenalin pumping through your veins.

Samantha landed on her knees, looking up at you incredulously “What? He’s cool! That’s cool! Boys never call you!”

“Way to rub that one in.” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Talking to people wasn’t your strong suit, and while for the most part you were okay with not having many friends, you lack of experience with relationships made you very insecure. “You crushed one of your spikes on my ceiling.”

Samantha reached up and touched each individual black spike with the tips of her finger, finding the dented one at the top of her head. “It’s true! God, I’ve got more guys calling me and I’m a lesbian.” She lowered her voice at the mention of her sexuality. You both knew that your grandparents wouldn’t be kind to her if they knew, their homophobia a mark of their small mindedness.

“Yeah, well, the guys at this school are all idiots.” You looked back to your paper, pulling your red pen out from behind your ear and crossing out a word on your essay.

“You didn’t think Jonathan Byers was an idiot.” Samantha replied. You cheeks flashed cherry red. It wasn’t fair of her to even mention him. He was a dickhead and Samantha knew it.

“Yeah, well now I know that he’s just as big of an idiot as everyone else is.” You muttered, pulling your desk chair over and taking a seat once again. You didn’t have the time for stupid boys, anyways. You had work to do.

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extremelyblackandwhite · 5 years ago

Text

i wanna know what love is - 07

Pairing: rockstar! sebastian stan x writer!reader

Warnings: fertility talk

A/N: sebastian is in his early 30′s in this fanfic, idk if i’ve ever mentioned it before but i felt i should say it so no one’s confused. let me know what you guys think, i love receiving your feedback always warms my heart listening to your opinions xx

Last Chapter // Next Chapter

Y/N woke up to a different yet pleasant environment. The bus had stopped and there were no bumps that could wake her up and the sun was shining into the bus and all she could hear were people on the outside laughing following for some movie. She raised her torso from the bed where she was covered by yellow papers and walked over to the window, pulling the curtains to come to sight with what she had heard and seen for years in pop culture. Las Vegas.

The lights were off as it was daytime but she could see the grandeur of everything. Y/N had only been to Vegas when she was a young girl with her father who was accompanying her mother to a writing gig and stuff seemed to remain the same.

Sebastian took zero time to wake up once he felt the bright light hit his eyes. No matter what people said, waking up sober to bright daylight was somehow worse than waking up hangover to bright daylight. He lifted his head to stare at what he thought was his brain playing tricks on him. Y/N was looking out the window, back turned to him in the shortest, tightest shorts that enhanced her backside. This had to be his mind playing tricks on him.

- We’re in Vegas. - she rushed to his side. - C’mon, we gotta go out.

- No. You go out, I’m tired and too important. - he turned to the other side, grabbing her fluffy white to cover over his head and try to stop the light from hitting his face. Y/N however was determined to get him to wake up, after all the boys and Sherrie had left already so she had no one else to go with her and going out by herself sounded like trouble. Y/N pushed the cover off him and onto the floor. - Go piss off someone else.

- Put a shirt on and let’s go. - she crossed her arms, one foot on top of the covers so he couldn’t push it over himself again. Defeated, he lifted his torso, rubbing his face and eyes to stare at the woman in front of him. - C’mon, don’t you wanna see Sherrie before she goes back to her work place?

- I already had sex with her and said goodbye. - he groaned, looking at her with hatred in his eyes. There was nothing he hated more than having his precious sleep interrupted. But yet again he was fighting Y/N over going outside and she really wanted to. - Go meet the boys at the venue, they’ll take you.

- I’ll pay for breakfast. - she said, poking his cheek with her baby pink painted nail. Sebastian could not refuse free breakfast, specially when he was in Vegas and everything was over the top.

The rockstar got up from his bed, looking at the mess of yellow papers and polaroids. He didn’t exactly remember if they had finished compiling them but he sure hoped they had because there was no way it would be possible to organise everything once again. He heard her say thank you as he walked to his own room to get dressed.

Y/N on the other hand was jumping around in her room like a little kid, grabbing clothes out of her closet and deciding what to wear. She lived in New York most of the year so she normally had little to no summer clothes but she found a nice short white summer dress. She grabbed her bag to check if she had her wallet, fully knowing he’d only gotten the rockstar to wake up due to free breakfast, and walked outside her room to find him in his usual dark jeans and a white shirt, cap and sunglasses on.

- You do realise that wearing a cap and sunglasses doesn’t exactly count as a disguise, right? You still look like you do cocaine on Fridays. - she looked over everything on the kitchen to check if the guys had left the stove on, which wouldn’t be the first time. She swore that living in this bus was a constant “when will I die” contest.

- I don’t do cocaine, that’s for newbies.

- I’m sorry I don’t know what’s your favourite dying poison.

- Poison would kill you so why add dying before poison, that’s just redundant. You’re a writer you should know that. - he grinned, happy he had corrected miss perfect but instead of getting the sweet satisfaction of watching her explain herself in fluster, she just opened the door and started walking straight ahead. - Hey sweetheart, do you know where you’re going?

- I’ll google it. - she kept walking like a child whose mother told them no candy at a shop isle. Sebastian smiled to himself and started walking behind her as she asked Siri what cafes were close by. She shifted to the left as they walked into the centre Vegas.

Sebastian always hated Vegas, it was loud and showy. He had enough to entertain himself with in the city but if he was asked to do a forever tour in one of the casinos that would be a no for him. The only good thing about the Vegas stops in all of his tours were that his bandmates wives would come to visit them so everyone would be off his back. Besides, the other good thing was that Sherrie would finally be off his back to go back to her job at the Hard Rock cafe. He wasn’t a fan of having the same girl next to him for longer than a week.

He was so lost in thoughts that he didn’t notice the young writer stop in front of a smallish cafe. Once she stopped, he woke from his thought filled mind and looked at the building in front of him. It was small, homey, not like his style but he guessed there was a smaller chance of people noticing him. She leaned against the door, opening it and making the bell sound calling for the attention of some of the customers who had disgusted looks on their faces. Y/N gave them a shy smile, once again feeling embarrassed by the fact that she had interrupted someone’s meal. However, Sebastian was having none of that.

- Isn’t this a lovely cafe, honey? - he wrapped his arm around her, gaining a confused look from her. - Sorry fellas, we’re a bit late in our honeymoon schedule, late for breakfast.

A bunch of the people who had given her dirty looks, immediately started to apologise making Sebastian grin to himself. There was something he knew for sure and it was that people loved not to stop a newly wed couples plan with their dirty looks, besides, if someone was gonna berate her for going for breakfast at 11 AM it would be him, not a bunch of lazy people.

They got into a table by the window and Y/N took one of the laminated menus, her hair falling in front of her face as she studied what she could have for food. Sebastian found himself looking at her, the way her face twitched every time she saw something she didn’t like.

- I found a typo. - she said, a huge smile in her face. - They wrote ceasar salad instead of caesar salad.

- You’re such a nerd. - he rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face as he returned to pick what to have for breakfast. An old lady reached their table, holding a small waitress pad.

- You two are such a beautiful couple, how long have you known each other.

- We are ... - Y/N was about to come clean, she hated lying, but Sebastian was having the time of his life making people fell bad about giving them dirty looks, so he was not ready to let this go.

- Five wonderful years, isn’t it so babe? - he reached his hand to touch hers but she still gave him the “touch me again, you’re dead” look. - Gotta enjoy our honeymoon before we start trying for a little one.

- What can I get you two, sweethearts? - she asked and Y/N smiled at the mention of finally getting some food.

- I’ll get a full English and Buck’s Fizz, thank you. - Sebastian handed her the menu as Y/N finished looking at the menu.

- I’d like some Eggs Benedict with a Diet coke, please. - she handed her the menu too, putting her hands on top of her lap. The old woman gave her a puzzling look. - Is there something wrong?

- Soda is not good if you’re trying for a little one. - she said making Y/N immediately shot a look that only translated into his death sentence.

- You heard her babe, better not have that diet coke. - he tapped her hand, trying not to burst out laughing at the devastated look the writer had in her face.

- Freshly squeezed orange and grapefruit juice is better for fertility, sweetheart. I’ll add that to your order. - the old woman turned and walked back to the kitchen leaving Y/N to cross her arms at Sebastian who was wheezing in silence at her face.

- Damn daddy, I sure hope that juice makes me magically pregnant. - she mocked him, looking at the table next to her being served the nicest coldest glass of Diet Coke. Sebastian, on the other hand, grew flustered at her words, looking out into the window. - I can’t believe they would believe I would marry you, much less try for a baby.

- Look, there is a lower chance of people thinking I’m me if we keep pretending we’re married and trying for a baby.

- That makes no sense. Besides, I’d rather die slowly than have to carry your offspring. - she mumbled as the lady came back with a tray containing their order and lacking her beloved Diet Coke. Y/N adored Diet Coke which was a controversial choice but back in university she used to down two cans of it per day while revising in the library. Cut to present day and she still enjoys a nice cold glass of Diet Coke with a slice of lemon. Instead, replacing heaven in a bottle, stood the freshly squeezed orange and grapefruit juice. She didn’t even like grapefruit, it was too sour for her.

She placed the metal tray on the table, placing Sebastian’s order in front of him and Y/N’s in front of hers along with a bowl of wild berries. She looked up to the old woman, quizzing if she had ordered it or if it was a mistake.

- Berries are good for the baby, sweetheart. It’s on the house. - she gave them a kind smile and left them to their food. Y/N shrugged, a gut feeling of guilt but yet again she loved berries and free berries sounded good to her.

- So ... - she burst her egg yolks using her fork, her question stuck in her head and failing to come out. She didn’t want him to get annoyed at her, not when they had spent more than an hour without bickering. - Do you wanna get married and have kids?

- Too late for that. - he chuckled but it wasn’t his normal chuckle, it wasn’t that chuckle she had gotten used to.

- You’re in your early 30′s, Sebastian. Besides, men are technically fertile until the end of their lives.

- Men like me don’t get married, we continue our life until no girl wants to lay down with us and then we disappear into oblivion.

- Is that what you want? Oblivion? - she questioned, one of her eyebrows raised at his comment.

- It’s not about what I want anymore. What about you, kids and engagement in the cards for you?

- I used to want it but I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to get married if love is something that’s not everlasting. Besides, I do have to work. - she gave him that sweet smile of hers. - Why are you leaving the band? For real, why don’t you wanna be part of it anymore?

- Just felt like it.

- You know, I don’t believe you’re a “just felt like it” type of guy so you gotta lie better to me.

- Anyhow, we’re moving into a hotel for the rest of the week so I won’t be annoying you during the nights anymore.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan AU #bucky barnes imagine

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softspiderling · 5 years ago

Text

swanky fortune - part nine | t.h.

Summary: Tom almost made you forget the downsides of spending time with a famous movie star, but then again, it wasn’t really his job to remind you of them

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Song I listened to while writing: Mad Love by Mabel

Author’s Note: helloooo I literally was procrastinating writing this chapter even tho I wrote a third of it right after I posted part eight I’m a desaster

Warnings: a lot of cursing and slightly steamy scene I guess? lol idk

Word Count: 4,3k

Masterlist

Tom pressed on the call button before he put his phone to his ear, patiently waiting as it rang. It was still fairly early in the morning and he was sure that you were still asleep, so he climbed back in bed after having brushed his teeth not wanting to wake you too soon.

The same couldn’t be said about his best mate, though.

“You better have a good reason for calling me this early,” Harrison groaned when he picked up the phone and Tom grinned.

“Good morning to you too, Haz. Late night?”

“Harry and Tuwaine dragged me out clubbing again and we didn’t come home until three, so yeah,” he sighed through the phone. “Don’t tell me you’re just calling me to ask me what we were up to last night.”

Tom turned in his bed and looked at the different framed photos you had on your desk. You had insisted on sleeping in Luisa’s bedroom and let him have yours the night before. It was odd to see your room without you in it, but he felt like he got to know you even more with every detail he discovered in your bedroom. It wasn’t like he was snooping around, but the way you decorated your walls or what kind of things you had on your desk really said a lot about a person.

“Uh no, I was actually calling to tell you about my own night.”

“OH!” Harrison sounded much more awake now and Tom could picture him sitting up in his bed to be fully aware.

“Definitely tell me about your night. How’s Y/N? Did she like your surprise?”

“She’s great,” Tom answered with a smile on his face and Harrison hummed. It was a brief answer and definitely not enough details, but Harrison knew his best friend to know what this meant.

“I see. Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Uh we went out for drinks and I met her friends, who were really nice by the way and uh, yeah. Oh, and we kissed.” He mentioned nonchalantly and with a grin he heard Harrison splutter.

“You did?! You div, why didn’t you lead with that? That’s so great to hear! How was it?”

Tom laid back on his back and stared at the ceiling, his cheeks pink when he thought of the kiss from last night.

“It was really good Haz. I just couldn’t help myself- she was wearing my leather jacket and her cheeks were red from all the beer we’ve had and then, ugh. There’s just something about her.”

“You really like her a lot, huh?”

“I do, yeah.”

“Does that mean you’re together now? You know, officially?”

Tom hesitated, biting on his lip.

“I don’t really know, to be honest. We haven’t really spoken about it.”

Harrison groaned and Tom winced.

“Mate, this is basically just the same that happened the last time you two kissed. You have to talk to her about this. I mean, what even are the two of you?”

Tom sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I know, Harrison. I’ll talk to her today, I swear.”

“You should. It’ll help,” Harrison promised, before he let out a loud yawn.

“Alright I’ll let you get back to sleep. I think Y/N’s up now, so I have to get up,” Tom said into his phone and pushed the blanket to the side as he sat up.

“Okay then. Let me know how that talk goes, okay?”

“I will. Thanks, Haz. Love you, mate.”

“Love you too Tommy,” Harrison said before he hung up.

Tom shut his phone off before he ran a hand over his face with a groan, stilling when he heard a knock on the door.

“Tom you up?” you asked, your voice muffled through the closed door.

He swung his legs out of the bed and opened the door with a breathless smile.

“Morning love!” he greeted you brightly and he could tell that you needed a second to avert your eyes from his naked chest, a hint of pink on your cheeks.

“Morning.”

Tom smirked and reached out to stroke over your cheek gently. “Take a picture, it lasts longer.”

Scoffing, you flipped him off and headed to the kitchen, with Tom trudging behind you, tugging a t shirt over his head.

“Do you want coffee or tea?” you asked as you headed over to your coffee machine to get it started, glancing at his direction when he grabbed two mugs out of the cabinet.

What the fuck was he doing feeling so comfortable in your kitchen already? Then again, he did spend god knows how long in your kitchen cooking for you. It made sense that he got familiar with all your cupboards and shelves.

“Coffee,” he replied, with a teasing grin. “I only drink English tea, darling.”

You rolled your eyes and turned the coffee machine on, turning around to reply to him, when he caged you in with his arms, placing the mugs on the counter on either side of you. The goosebumps on your neck started spreading to your arms when he swooped down to kiss you, his hands holding your cheek gently.

Though caught by surprise, you reciprocated the kiss with a soft sigh, your hands snaking around his neck to pull him closer. Tom quickly got the hint and it wasn’t long until he hoisted you up on the counter, his mouth still working yours eagerly as he licked into your mouth with his tongue, pressing his body closer against yours.

Your toes curled at all the sensations you were feeling at the same time and you felt a shudder run down your spine, before you pulled away from him, your mouths separating with a smacking sound. Turning to the side to push the mugs towards the coffee machine, you knew he was staring at you because you could feel the blush creeping up your neck.

Regaining your composure, you turned back to face him and Tom was grinning fondly at you.

Dork.

“Stop staring at me,” you demanded and he poked your nose with his finger before he moved to pour your coffee mugs, a smug grin still clearly visible on his face.

“So,” he started, handing you your coffee while preparing his own. “What’s on the agenda today?”

You pursed your lips, stirring milk and sugar into your coffee. “I was thinking of going to lunch at a lovely Italian restaurant I know and then I really hope that you brought some sunglasses because I’m going to show you around the city, because the weather is amazing.”

Tom glanced out the window with his coffee mug on his lips, humming in agreement. “Sounds like a good plan. Do you think you can show me your university?”

“Why would you want to see my university?”

“I just want to see how you spend your days and I guess I like how different it is compared to my life,” he shrugged and you eyed him in amusement before nodding, thrumming your fingertips on the counter.

“Yeah okay, why not. It’s probably not going to be that crowded either.”

You suddenly were reminded of the last time you almost got crushed by screaming fans and paparazzi and shook your head out before jumping down from the counter.

“Breakfast?”

“Breakfast.”

The two of you didn’t fumble long with breakfast, eager to spend the sunny day outside and with stomachs filled with some scrambled eggs and toast, you walked out in the warm summer air, the sun shining brightly on your naked skin.

Even though it hasn’t been 24 hours since your last (admittedly very awkward) outing, it still felt like a lot has changed between the two of you even without having to talk about it. That was why it was almost an instinct for you to reach out to lace your hand with Tom’s and the smile that resulted from that made it even better.

Your first stop was campus and taking the subway, which was slightly more crowded than you thought it would be, had Tom hide his face in the crook of your neck, with his cap backwards on his head and your hand resting lazily over his shoulder.

A few looks from passing people were shot in your direction but it was more of a disapproving of the PDA you were showcasing than a sign of recognizing a famous actor walking among them. But you couldn’t say that you cared, honestly. You were too busy giggling at his behavior, your skin warm from the sun and from his warm breath that was fanning out on your collarbone.

Campus was luckily not that busy. There was the occasional student rushing through campus but you knew from your own experience that they were far too preoccupied with their own thoughts and worries to notice their surroundings.

“So the library is over there and the cafeteria is in the building next to it,” you told Tom, walking backwards so you could look at him while you talked.

“I mostly spend my time in the library to do research or to study, like basically every other student and yeah. Lecture halls are over there and this is our beautiful campus,” you concluded with a dramatic flourish of your arms.

“Have you ever thought about a career in tour guiding?”

Tom was wearing a teasing smile and you tsked when you fell back into step with him. “You think you’re really funny, don’t you?”

“I do actually, yeah. Didn’t you know that my dad is a comedian?”

Lunch was equally amazing. For the first time since you’ve known Tom, he was taking advantage of his stardom and asked for a private little corner table at the restaurant, which the staff were happy to give to you.

“Oh my god I’m so full,” Tom groaned, looking down at his half-eaten pizza. You shrugged with your shoulders, putting your napkin down on your empty plate.

“I told you not to order a whole pizza. Their whole concept is huge pizzas, what made you think you’re any different from the rest of their customers?” you chastised him and his eyes darkened, the crease between his eyes deepening.

“I always finish my food, how was I supposed to know that their pizzas are huge?”

“Because I told you and so did the waitress, Tom.”

“Whatever,” he grumbled and flagged down the waitress to wrap up the pizza to take home. You and the waitress exchanged knowing looks when she picked up your plates, with Tom narrowing his eyes at you while he put his wallet on the table.

“Nuh-uh!” you protested and snatched his wallet off the table before he had time to react. “You’re not paying for lunch.”

Tom whined, holding his hand out to demand his wallet back from you. “Y/N! Give me back my wallet!” You shook your head and dropped his wallet into your purse, smiling at the waitress when she handed you the bill.

“Just let me pay for god’s sake, Tom and stop whining about it.”

“Thank you and have a nice day!” the waitress said when you paid the bill, clearing the rest of the table while you and Tom bid your good byes, leaving the restaurant.

“That was so rude of you,” he told you and you frowned, glancing at him.

“Why was that rude? 20% tip was more than enough.”

He rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around your shoulder to pull you closer as you walked on the sidewalk with no particular destination in mind.

“I was talking about you taking my wallet when I was offering to pay for lunch, dummy.”

Pleased, you shrugged with your shoulders and glanced up at him with a smile. “Just because you’re loaded doesn’t mean I’m going to let you pay for everything, we’re in the 21st century.”

You could see him smirk out of the corner of your eye and smiled to yourself, leaning your head on his arm. The rest of the day was spent with showing Tom around the city you’ve grown to love since you’ve moved here for university. It wasn’t the biggest city, but it had some beautiful spots and was definitely charming. The good weather made a lot of people spend their days in the park or getting ice cream, but nevertheless you two managed to keep yourselves on the down-low.

After stopping at food truck for a quick dinner, you made your way back to your apartment. It wasn’t that late yet, but all the walking and the sun constantly shining down on your made you weary and tired.

“How was that petty of me?”

“I literally saw you grinning so hard when the old man told that woman off for standing directly in front of the subway door when it opened.”

Laughing, you pushed open the door of your apartment building, looking back at him, your eyes crinkling. “I hate it when people do that, so the woman had that coming.”

“That is literally the definition of petty, love.”

Heading up the stairs, you two continued squabbling and it felt good to be so carefree and light, especially because Tom made you feel like you were the only person left on the world. Throughout the day he had kept all his attention on you. You were pretty sure that he never even glanced at his phone for more than the five seconds he needed to take a picture. You wished for every day to be like this one.

But unfortunately, it couldn’t be.

And you were reminded of that fact in form of a well-dressed man standing in front of your apartment door, the sound of your laughter pulling his attention away from his phone to the two of you. Puzzled, you looked at him and Tom stopped in his tracks when he came up the stairs behind you.

“Jeff, what are you doing here?”

Jeff, you’ve heard that name before.

“You weren’t picking up your phone.”

“Yeah, because I’m not working right now,” Tom ground out and it dawned on you. Jeff, his agent. The same agent who he had an argument with before you left Los Angeles.

The man who was standing front of your door because Tom wasn’t answering his phone.

“Doesn’t mean you can ignore my calls Tom.”

Both men seemed annoyed and you eyed them carefully, pulling the key out of your purse. “Uhm, do you maybe want to come inside? I don’t think you want to talk about this where my neighbors could hear you, do you?”

“No, it’s fine, Y/N-“

“That would be perfect, thank you.” Jeff interrupted Tom and you pressed your lips together before unlocking the door, letting the two men step inside before closing the door.

“Uh, you can go into the living room,” you offered awkwardly and Jeff nodded curtly, waltzing through the doorway like he owned it.

Tom furrowed his brows when he looked at you, reaching out to squeeze your arm gently. “I am really sorry about this Y/N, I didn’t know that he was going to come here, honestly I don’t even know how he knew that I was here in the first place. But he’ll leave shortly, okay?”

You gave him a tight smile and nodded, following him to the living room where Jeff was sitting at the living room.

“Alright Jeff, get it out with,” Tom sighed, motioning for you to sit before he sat down next to you.

Jeff raised an eyebrow at you. “You think it’s appropriate for her to stay for the conversation?”

Wow.

“I can leave,” you said, standing up but Tom grabbed your hand, looking at you with pleading eyes, so you sat back down, folding your hands on the table.

“Her name is Y/N. And I’m not letting you scare her off in her own home,” he told his manager and Jeff leaned back in his chair, shrugging.

“Fine with me. I think Y/N is distracting you from your work and it’s not good.”

You blanched at his words and even though Jeff didn’t seem to like having you here for the conversation, it was certainly looking he was taking advantage of your presence.

“How is she distracting me when I’m not even working right now?” Tom asked, taking the cap off his head and tossing it on the table. There was an edge to his voice and you already knew at this point that this conversation was not going to be pleasant.

“You know that you’re always working, Tom. Right now you should be promoting Far From Home and urging your fans to be going to the theater to watch the film instead of strolling around the city,” Jeff spoke sharply, sending an icy look in your direction.

Holding your gaze as he stared you down, you didn’t even blink until he averted his eyes back to Tom. It wasn’t hard to tell that Jeff wasn’t overly fond of you.

“I did everything SONY has told me to do and more. You know I like staying close to my friends, have you even seen my Instagram posts?”

Jeff scoffed and opened the folder he was keeping under his arm. “I mean more like interviews and photoshoots with magazines. Do you even know how many people want you on their cover? This is your prime and you should take advantage of that.” He pointed at different high fashion brand names that were listed in his folder, seeming excited, but Tom only pinched the bridge of his nose.

“We already talked about this,” he groaned in annoyance. “Why do you keep bringing this up when you know that it’s my decision to make and that I don’t want to do it?”

Snapping the folder shut again, Jeff’s jaw ticked when he lifted his gaze to look at Tom before glancing at you. “You working another promotional method then?”

You felt uneasy, not liking the direction the conversation was taking.

“I am not sure if it’s working, though.”

“What are you talking about?” Tom asked, confusion written across his face.

Jeff pointed at you. “I think fans like Zendaya better than Y/N so maybe you should get back to your colleague.”

“Excuse me?” You were appalled at the accusation and your cheeks tinted red, embarrassed, while Tom sported a similar redness to his face, though he wasn’t exactly flustered.

“Are you fucking serious right now Jeff?”

Even though you knew that Tom’s anger wasn’t directed at you, you still flinched his tone, but he quickly reached out to take your hand in his to calm you, and probably also yourself down, while his eyes were trained on his agent.

“Not only did you come here unannounced but now you’re also insulting Y/N, Zendaya and me at the same time? Even though she was so nice to invite you into her home instead of turning you away like she should have?”

“Tom-“ Jeff started, but Tom shook his head, cutting him off.

“No, Jeff, now it’s time for you to listen. You know how thankful I am for everything you’ve done for me but I am an adult and I can make my own decisions. And just because I owe a lot to you doesn’t mean you can go around acting like I’m working for you when it’s actually the other way around. The only reason why I’m not firing you right this second is that my mum actually went through a lot to hire you as my agent, so we’ll talk about this after my break,” Tom finished, standing up so quickly the chair almost toppled over hadn’t you grabbed it just in time.

Jeff was staring at Tom with wide eyes and even though he was quivering a bit, he got up as well, leaving without another word while Tom held the door open for him. Too bad Jeff didn’t take the tension with him when he left, because you didn’t dare to say a word when Tom returned to the living room, looking exhausted and tired.

“I’ll just head to bed if you don’t mind,” he said timidly and you nodded quickly.

“Yeah, of course, uh, you can go ahead and use the bathroom first.”

Tom gave you a small smile and trudged into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Taking a few deep breaths to compose yourself, you went to get changed. As you pulled your pajamas over your head, you heard the bathroom door open followed by footsteps, before another door shut close faintly. You peeked into the dark hallway and you could see a strip of light coming out below the door of your bedroom, before it flickered out.

Your heart was heavy at the sight, and after a quick visit to the bathroom, you climbed into Luisa’s bed, still shaken up about what just happened. Admittedly, Jeff was out of line coming at Tom and you like this, but you couldn’t help but wonder if you were really distracting Tom from his work, because that was the least thing you wanted to do. You tried to fall asleep, but your mind kept wandering back to Jeff and all the thing’s he’s said.

Minutes, maybe even hours passed.

Tossing around in the bed, unable to sleep, you glanced at the clock, sighing at the time it was showing. The blankets pushed back and legs swung of bed, you got up. Maybe a glass of milk would help.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen with the light from your phone guiding you, you poured yourself a glass of milk before drinking it quickly, sighing with the empty glass in your hand. Putting the milk back into the fridge, you returned to Luisa’s bedroom when you heard a clatter from within your own bedroom.

With narrowed eyebrows, you stopped in front of the door and knocked lightly, waiting for a few seconds before Tom opened the door for you.

He looked tired and his hair was messy, but he didn’t look like you had just pulled him out of a good night’s sleep.

“You okay?”

Tom nodded and ran his hand through his hair with a sigh. “Yeah, I just can’t sleep. Sorry if I woke you.”

You could tell that he was still aggravated and it didn’t take mind reading for you to know that it was about Jeff.

“You didn’t wake me. Can’t sleep either,” you told him and gave him a small smile, before rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.

“Uhm, I’ll let you get back to bed. I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?”

You gave him a small wave and walked back to your bedroom.

“Y/N, wait,” Tom called out and you turned to him. “Do you, uh- Would you maybe like to sleep with me?”

He cringed, his cheeks pinking.

“I mean, in your bed. Share, I mean.”

Smiling dumbly, you nodded a yes and brushed past him into your bedroom, while he closed the door behind you. You quickly climbed into the bed and under the covers, leaving plenty of space on the other side of the bed for Tom.

Laying pin-straight on the mattress, a far cry from the usual starfish you usually did, and you let out a breath when he slipped beneath the blankets on the other side of the bed. A couple of minutes passed while you stared at the ceiling and you weren’t sure if Tom had already fallen asleep, but you inched your hand in his direction anyway.

It slowly crept across the mattress until your fingers grazed his hand and you stilled, holding your breath. You finally exhaled when he intertwined his fingers with yours and a smile spread on your face, before you rolled over to your side, just to see him mere inches away from your nose.

“Hi,” you whispered and he smiled at you, reaching out to stroke the hair out of your face.

“Hi,” he mumbled back, staring at you with soft eyes before he spoke up again.

“I am sorry about Jeff. He was out of line and he never should have come here. I’ll deal with him as soon as I get back to work, I promise.”

Frowning, you squeezed his hand tightly.

“You don’t have to apologize on his behalf, Tom.”

The crinkles in his forehead were deep and it was clear to you that he might be even more upset about his agent’s behavior towards you than you were.

“Yes I do, he’s my agent and if it weren’t for me, he never would have been so rude to you.” He said quietly and scooted closer to him, leaning your forehead against his.

“Jeff is his own person and he makes his own decisions, just like you are your own person, remember? He made his decision to be rude so it’s him who should apologize to me, not you. You didn’t do anything wrong, you have to understand that,” you told him and he smiled at you, placing a soft kiss on your nose.

His voice was quiet, but still gentle when he said: “Thank you Y/N.”

“’course,” you whispered, snuggling closer to him and he wrapped his arms around you, as the two of you slowly fell into a deep slumber in each other’s arms.

There was a certain weight around your shoulders when you woke up slowly, your nose pressed against something warm. Your eyes fluttered open when you realized your face was smushed into Tom’s chest and with a dopey smile, you closed your eyes again. You weren’t sure what it was that woke you, when a phone pinged again and then again and again. It sounded like it was coming from both sides of the room.

“Tom it’s your phone,” you grumbled and he groaned, rolling over to check his phone while you checked yours.

It was a bunch of messages from all of your friends and a few from the twins and Harrison, and what seemed like a thousand of new instagram followers, and as you opened Luisa’s text, you heard Tom mutter a quiet:

“Oh fuck.”

Luisa: GIRL YOU’RE IN THE TABLOIDS????

Luisa: [picture attached] MASKS OFF! Tom Holland swings out of London to meet his real-life Mary Jane and it’s not Zendaya! Swipe up to read more!

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