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visionofhope04 · 4 years ago

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

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

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

f/n = friend name

Y/G/N = your group name

N/S = news station

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want Demon Spawn?”

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

“You mean my sister?”

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s not here.”

“Then where is she?”

“Not here.”

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

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

“What?! Where.” Damian demanded.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Because I demand to know!”

“Okay and?”

“Tell me!”

“No.”

“Why not!”

“Because you don’t even care.”

“And you do?”

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

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

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

“...” Was Damian’s reply.

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, it is true.”

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

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

“You’re saying it in the past tense.”

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

“No family is actually perfect.”

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

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

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

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

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

---

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

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

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

---

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

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tarydarrington · 3 years ago

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Veth doesn’t know who she’d expected to be waiting on the other side of the knock at the door, but if she’d had to guess, Essek Thelyss wringing his hands like a worried grandmother would have been near the bottom of her list.

“Oh,” she says. “Hi?”

He bobs his head, almost more a quick bow than a nod, tenting his fingers in front of his chest. “Good afternoon,” he says, with the distinct cadence of someone who has repeated the words to himself in the mirror all morning. “I hope you are well?”

“I’m all right,” Veth answers haltingly.

The two of them stand there for a moment, awkward silence hanging between them. Then, finally, Essek gives her a nervous smile.

“I do not wish to impose, but, ah…” He gestures past her. “May I enter?”

“Yeah. Sure.” She steps aside, and Essek gives her a grateful nod before walking - walking? - past her into the living room. “Take a seat, if you like.”

He takes the invitation, perching gingerly onto the very edge of the armchair they keep for their larger-sized guests. Veth follows him in, shutting the door behind her and wondering if this isn’t all a very strange dream. Essek barely meets her gaze as she circles around to stand before him. She leans forward, narrowing her eyes.

"What is this? Why are you being weird? Did something happen? Did Caleb die?"

"No!" Essek reins in his volume, pressing his palms together in apology. "No, certainly not. It is simply…"

Veth raises her eyebrows to prompt him.

"Well, I, ah…" His fingers draw little circles in the air, as though he can pull the words out like a spell. "I have read that it is custom in the Empire to request the blessing of a guardian if one wishes to…" The pained look on his face stretches even further. "Court."

Veth blinks at him. He’s serious. He has to be. That face, all pinched up towards the middle, reminds her of the way the neighbor boy looked when he admitted to breaking her dining room window. It looks absolutely absurd on the former Shadowhand.

"Well, I'm sure he would be flattered, but even with the slower aging, Luc's a little young for you."

She can practically see the joke fly over his head. "No," Essek blurts hurriedly, eyes blown wide with mortification. Veth might have laughed if she didn't feel a bit guilty. "No, I…" He brings one hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezing shut, and she suspects he's rooted out the sarcasm.

"If you're talking about Caleb," she says as a peace offering, "I'm certainly not his mother."

"No." Essek presses his palms together again, this time in his lap. "I have considered ways to make a meaningful gesture regarding his parents, but…"

He shakes his head. Veth can fill in the blanks. She wouldn't want the beginning of a new relationship to be tangled up in past trauma, either.

"So," he continues. "I had thought, perhaps, that as his closest friend, you might be a suitable alternative."

Well, that’s… She isn’t sure if it’s flattering, exactly, but she’ll accept the show of respect. She takes a moment to scrutinize him as he watches her apprehensively. Essek and Caleb. Caleb and Essek. It makes a certain kind of sense. Once, years ago, she might have railed against it; despite his growth, it’s still difficult sometimes to look at Essek and see anything other than her husband’s former jailer.

But lately, these last few years, Veth has been at home. She’s been with her family, the most important people in the world to her, and Caleb… well, he’s been off on his own adventures. And without Veth there to look after him, it’s been on Essek’s shoulders to make sure he comes back from said adventures alive and whole. Which he has, so far, without fail.

And that look Essek is giving her, as though if she says no, it might actually dissuade him?

"First of all," she begins with a sigh, "you’re not at court. You’re not courting. You're dating."

At the look of confusion on Essek's face, she takes a deep breath.

"You'll take him to have a meal together, or to see a play, or to watch a lecture. Don't do the lecture thing, that's a bad idea. That would be a terrible date." She pauses. "Although, with you two, maybe."

She can tell from the look on his face that she's losing him, so she waves her hands. "Nevermind that. Disregard all of that. The point is, you'll take him to nice places and do enjoyable things together."

Essek shifts uncomfortably. “I… don’t know if I can do that,” he admits. “I cannot be seen outside of the confines of his home or areas outside of the Empire.”

Veth frowns. “Well, you’re going to have to take him somewhere. You have disguises, right?”

Essek seems to consider it. “I do,” he says. “I suppose it would be worth a small risk, from time to time.”

“You’re darn right,” Veth agrees. “And don’t skimp, either. Caleb deserves the best.”

Essek nods entirely too seriously, as though he’s filing all this away in his mind. Veth makes a mental note to pester him with a progress report in about six months’ time.

Not one too rigorous, though. It’s hard to imagine prodding at him for entertainment’s sake when he looks so pathetic.

“Is there anything else?” he asks tentatively, when the silence persists.

“Well, let’s see.” She runs a finger over her chin, theatrically deep in thought. She already knows her answer. “Do you care for him?”

“Of course.” The sincerity on his face almost makes her feel bad about this. “More deeply than I have ever cared for anyone.”

She shouldn’t ask. It’s probably not something he’s discussed with Caleb himself, yet, if they’re only just now getting together. It would be prying, even for her. “Do you love him?” she asks, anyway.

A little, lost smile turns up one corner of Essek’s lips, and it’s almost a whisper when he replies, “How could I not?”

A pang of something that has never quite left Veth’s heart smarts for the first time in years, and she looks away with a matching smile.

When she and Caleb had been traveling with the others, people tended to hem and haw when she brought up how amazing Caleb was. They thought he was talented, sure, but it sometimes felt like none of the others could see the unquenchable light in him. But looking at Essek’s face, at the way his eyes are shining, Veth can’t help but think that maybe, finally, somebody gets it.

"Alright." She reaches out, and before he can flinch away, pats his hand. "You've convinced me. You have earned my permission to have regular sex with my adult, human son."

“I…” His brow furrows. “Truly?”

“Yeah, go nuts.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Caleb’s a grown adult. He can make his own choices, and if he’s choosing you, then good for both of you.”

Essek blinks at her like she’s just handed him a full pardon from the Bright Queen.

“I mean, obviously, if you hurt him, you will have all of us to answer to,” she says. “But you’re the guilt guy, so I think you’ll probably have yourself to answer to, first.”

"I…" He clasps his hands together. "I expected more… what is the word? Pushback.”

Veth braces her hands on her hips. “You know what? Fjord and Jester didn’t even tell me they were dating until I literally saw them kissing, and Beau and Yasha were barely better.” She jabs a finger towards Essek’s chest, ignoring the way he startles at the movement. “So you have just made it to the top of the Winter’s Crest card list.”

Essek presses his steepled fingers against his mouth, but not before Veth catches the bashful smile spreading there.

“Thank you,” he says. “Truly, I… This means a great deal.”

“Heck yeah, my blessing’s worth a lot,” she replies with a grin. “You know what? Tell Fjord that. He doesn’t have my blessing. I’m gonna make him work for it.”

This time the joke doesn’t pass him by, and she can read in his small smile that he’s grateful for the show of familiarity.

“I should hope he will rise to the occasion,” he says, and Veth gets the feeling he isn’t just talking about Fjord.

#shadowgast #veth brenatto #essek thelyss #mine #mine:fic #i really wish i had executed this concept better because i really liked the concept #but i promised myself i would finish one of my billion little ficlet chunks so here is this #veth #essek

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rubyinasnuggie · 3 years ago

Text

Random Headcanons No One Asked For:

-Both Ruby and Weiss are left handed

--Yang was 100% prepared to tease them about it when Blake very pointedly uses her left hand to write something

--Blake is ambidextrous

--which makes Yang the only right-handed one on the team

--until the fall of beacon oops

-Ren is fully color blind

--once baby Nora figured that out, she made it her mission to explain to him what colors are based on other sensations (sue me I love this trope)

--she describes pink as the quiet comfort they share in each other's presence

--Ren finally sees color for the first time when his semblance upgrades, and he can finally see the pink petals with Nora

-Blake likes to climb on things and find random nooks and crannies to read

--it turns into a game of reverse hide-and-seek when someone needs her: depending on how urgent it is the entire squad will drop everything and look for her

-team STRQ won the Vytal tournament their first year, specifically Summer was the champion

--Yang was more upset about the disqualification than she'd ever admit, because she secretly imagined Summer was out there somewhere watching the tournament, proud of her babies

-Tai pulled himself out of his depression by gardening: having a routine helped him, so he encouraged baby Ruby and Yang to get similar gentle hobbies

-Ruby raises chickens at home

--she very lovingly feeds them corn and calls them her ladies

--Yang affectionately calls them creatures and cluckers and other such rude things to get a rise out of Ruby

-Ruby deeply wants a cow

--this is her one and only retirement dream

--although honestly she can never imagine herself living past her 20s

-Yang struggled with picking a hobby, she gets bored easily and hates the expected

--its only post-Beacon that she understands the benefits of a routine

--thats why she ends up with a ton of chores, just some structure to help her through the day

-Ruby will drink any type of milk, but Strawberry milk is her favorite

-Sun is allergic to bananas but he doesn't know

--he thinks bananas are supposed to be spicy

-Weiss loves sour apple

-Pyrrha loves chocolate almonds

-Yang thinks fish are creepy, she just generally doesn't love the ocean

--she thinks Neptune is a little clown though

-Oscar gets dressed by putting on his left sock, left boot, then his right sock and right boot

--RNJR made it their mission to interrupt him during this just to see him walk around with one boot on

-Ruby likes to bake, it's one of the few solid memories she has of her mom

--one night Weiss was feeling homesick and Ruby taught her how to make mug cakes

--"its probably not that good compared to your cake butler, but it's pretty simple, and I like them!"

--Weiss secretly makes them at least once a week, even back home in Atlas

-Weiss has taken flight lessons, at one point Ironwood really pushed for her to become a pilot in the military

-Blake has a field journal of the different types of Grimm she's encountered

--team RWBY & JNPR have spent several nights sitting in a circle talking and adding to the journal

--while traveling across Anima, Ruby sketched and took notes on all the Grimm she saw, just in case she ever found Blake again

-Weiss collects rocks

--no, not crystals. actual rocks

--shes rarely spent time in the real outside, but whenever she has, she picks up little rocks and puts them in her pocket before anyone can see

-Jaune never actually stopped writing left and right on the bottom of his shoes actually

-Weiss had never been allowed to paint her nails as a kid, she'd always get weekly French manicures instead

--by the second semester at Beacon, Ruby, Weiss, Nora, and Ren would have weekly manicure nights where they'd paint each other's nails

--there were several times they'd rope the rest of the teams into it, especially during the Vytal tournament where they'd write team names on their nails

--during the singles round they'd write Yang on one hand and Pyrha on the other

--"we couldn't make it fit without cutting one of the R's!"

-Pyrrha and Weiss became each other's default plus one's for fancy events, to the point people began to speculate that the two were dating

--Jaune was somehow jealous of them both and it was very confusing to him since he had poor self awareness

-Yang cuts Ruby's hair, but after she lost her arm she lost the fine motor skills to do a good job, so Blake started to do it

-Blake is always there to help Yang with her phantom pains and residual limb pain

--she helps massage Yang's arm while leaning close and purring

--Yang cried the first time Blake did this because she's not used to being taken care of

-Nora never gets sick and is the designated nurse when a bug goes around the teams

--the electricity incident was the first time Nora has ever been bed-ridden

-Weiss took ballet as a child

-Jaune is actually pretty good at the guitar

-Pyrrha is not musically inclined at all its a miracle she managed to do the iconic JNPR shine dance

--jk but actually she's a decent dancer when she has the steps choreographed for her but she has no natural rhythm

-in the last few months before Pyrrha's death, she and Jaune would waltz on top of the roof together

--there were several almost kisses

--maybe a few successful kisses who knows

-there are occasions (obv extremely rare) when Ren actually takes the bulk of the energy from Nora

--this leads to thrilling game nights where Ren makes multiple 40pt remnant-equiv-of-scrabble plays while Nora naps

-Oscar is the only person who can beat Ren in scrabble, although it's very closely matched

-Oscar is amazing at chess and will play it against himself like a little square

-Yang and Ruby are experts at the tabletop war game they play in the library

--9 times out of 10, the winner is one of them

-Oscar is the only one who also knew about Compost King, which was very exciting for Jaune

--Compost King is a common game night activity while they were in Haven because its so hard to say no to Oscar

-Yang is a straight-A student and has always been

-Blake never had any formal education and she finds a lot of the classes incredibly dull or ineffective at teaching the material

--she's always the one convincing Yang to skip a class and lie in the sun-warmed grass with her

--she still gets Bs easily

-Oscar is a very fast reader and will devour any book he's given

--his aunt would frequently bring home books from town just to keep him entertained

-Ruby has suffered from migraines and nightmares her entire life, post-Beacon they only got worse

-Weiss shops at local dust stores whenever she can, even though she could get shipments for free

--however she does have Ron Swanson's "I know more than you" energy when she's shopping

-Blake and Ren will sometimes take naps together

--not cuddling, just occupying the same general space

--wake them up at your own risk

-if Ruby isn't engaged with something, she can start to scatter and dissolve into rose petals

--its a very slow process and someone has always snapped her out of it before she's fully vanished, but Yang is worried about what would happen if no one caught her in time

-Ren is afraid of horses

-Blake hates being cold

-Yang naturally radiates heat cause semblance duh

-Weiss glued the tiniest gravity crystals to the underside of Ruby's bed to ensure it never falls

-JNPR likes to push their beds all together so they can sleep in one big pile

-Nora can only sleep if she's holding someone's hand

Hope u guys enjoyed! These are in no particular order, sorry that I kinda jumped around a lot 😅

Feel free to reblog and add your own ideas and headcanons! ❤

#rwby #jnpr #oscar pine #ruby rose #jaune arc #weiss schnee #nora valkyrie #blake belladonna #pyrrha nikos #yang xiao long #lie ren #rwby headcanons #rwby headcanon #rwby thoughts #bumbleby #renora #rwby redesign #long post #im sorry

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arty-shadow-morningstar · 3 years ago

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Con Man's Daughter (4)

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 2)(Part 3) (Here) (Part 5)

-------

While 8-eight-year old Marinette waited at her father’s house for their weekly lessons, John was running a little late because somebody got into trouble with the supernatural and he was cleaning it up as fast as he could. The life of a warlock.

John thought he managed to trap the spirit/ ancient thing but underestimated how powerful it was. It was lying in wait to get revenge on John.

John comes home, dragging a heavy chest which had the trapped thing inside it.

“Sweetheart, I am home.”

“Dad! What took you so long?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. This bloo- er I mean this entity was just difficult to catch. This chest now contains a powerful and ancient demon which should never be released so you can’t open it.”

“Like Pandora’s box.”

“Exactly”

Turns out that ‘demon’ was the infamous Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, the Great Sage who was equal to Heaven, blah blah blah... who managed to break the chest open at that moment from the inside, was pretty pissed at being locked into a chest. A very extravagant one but nonetheless, he hated being trapped. (I just want to say for the record that I had binged the Overly Sarcastic Production of Journey to the West and I want everyone to know about it.)

He grabbed Marinette and took her with him.

John is left behind, cursing and blaming himself for being a terrible father and letting a demon, contained or not near his daughter. He began tracking spells to find out where the monkey king had taken her. He didn’t look forward to telling Sabine about this. When he got his hands on that demon, he was going to rip it into bloody shreds before sending it to hell.

They ended up in one of Sun’s old haunts, a clearing filled with fruit trees, left untouched for years by magical means.

Marinette asked who he was and was definitely excited to find out that he was the Sun Wukong. She heard stories of him from her mother’s relatives, her great uncle had told stories about him to entertain the kids during the annual family reunions.

She babbled on and on about Sun's amazing feats and asked if he actually did it.

Sun was happy to have a little fan and it was doing nice things to his ego.He gave her details that were not known by anyone. Internally he was like ‘I have this girl for over a day and if anything happens to her, I would kill everyone and then myself.’

She later asked if the dragons still existed and Sun took her to a river where one of the not man-eating dragons lived.

Too bad that he was gone for over a few decades and he didn’t get the memo that the river was now occupied by a very vicious dragon who loves human meat very much.

Seeing the little girl at the river, it didn’t hesitate to kidnap Marinette, ignoring who she was with.

Wukong was angry that someone was kidnapped under his nose again and a quick flashback to his journey to the West days. A few moments later, the dragon was killed.

They later found out that the dragon had an egg. Which Sun gladly let Marinette keep. Giving a few tips on taking care of a dragon when it hatches.

Soon, Marinette wanted to go home to which he surprisingly took her back, unable to deny her puppy eyes.

John came home from another wild goose chase to find Marinette to see her asleep on his couch, hugging an egg.

That’s how John had a red dragon the size of a raccoon in addition to a hellhound in his house. It doesn’t help that Sun Wukong would come around from time to time and steal Marinette away for an ‘adventure’

Although she does come back unscathed everytime to his immense relief and to his annoyance, with a new animal in tow from time to time. His house was going to be a bloody zoo at this rate. Sun gets a kick out of seeing the blond man’s eye twitch every time Marinette happily brings home a new ‘pet’. That’s what you get for trapping the 'Great Sage equal to Heaven' in a box.

At least John doesn’t have a hard time tracking down rare creatures for potion ingredients like a phoenix feather, unicorn horn powder or Nemean Lion fur which sheds all over the place and he has to clean up once a week..

------

Marinette would usually show off a new non-magical trick she learned from the internet or Aunty Z during lunch to her friends. Max would often try to figure out how she did certain tricks.

It was a game between them. Max would be given a week to figure out how she pulled it off. He would tell her his theories on how she did it and if he got it right, she would bring Max’s favourite snacks from the bakery to school the next day. If he still couldn’t figure it out, he would do her homework for the day and the trick would forever remain a secret.

There was this one time where Kim of all people, figured out how she did it, to the shock of everyone and Marinette brought in Kim’s favourite cookies the next day.

It turned into a thing where everyone in the class (and a few from other classes) would try to figure it out and when they couldn’t, they would pool money to buy the winner’s favourite treat for everyone (or a roll of fabric in Marinette’s case.)

Chloe tries to hide that she is interested in how the tricks are done and pass off her theories to Sabrina.

When Alya and Adrien joined, Alya would at first push hard to make Marinette crack and tell her. Later she joined the others in solving it with conspiracy boards when all her attempts failed.

Adrien would get a few right, due to his homeschooled days when he was obsessed with magic tricks and watched every video on how it was done. (He also wanted to have something to talk about with his cousin when his aunt visits.) He also doesn’t know how much things actually cost and always ends up covering the entire thing for everyone.

------

Marinette and Alix were best friends a few years before Alya ever came into the picture. And Alix is the only one who knows about Marinette doing actual magic and not the illusions and sleight of hand kind.

It started with Alix mentioning how her brother thinks the new relic in the museum is supposedly haunted because he saw a ghost near it and there being a supposed curse attached to it.

Marinette being a rebellious and reckless teenager, wanting to put her skills to the test and proving to her father that she can do it after John told her that no, she wasn’t allowed to go with him and get rid of a spirit.

She got Alix to let her in after visiting hours were over.

They snuck to where the exhibit was displayed.

Marinette recognised what the relic is from a book once she saw it and knew what she had to do.

She tried to make Alix leave and the shorter girl was insistent on not leaving her alone.

Before they knew it, the ghostly figure appeared and they were sprawled on the floor outside the room where the relic was after being thrown out. The ghostly figure looked like a soldier of an ancient civilization (Aztec, Han Dynasty, Indian, Egyptian, Babylonian, take your pick I was too lazy to do research for it) and was standing beside the relic as a guard. Their weapon on standby.

Alix groaned, “I will never hear the end of it from Jalil about this.”

Marinette started to run towards the warrior, reciting a spell.

Unfortunately it backfired and sent Marinette into the air again.

Alix basically demands Marinette to explain and Marinette gives her the rundown about ghosts and demons being actually real and that she learned about it from her biological father who is an expert on these kinds of stuff.

It took a long time (An hour and a half at most) but in the end, the ghost warrior was gone after Alix’s quick thinking about the history of the place where the relic came from and serving as the distraction while Marinette summoned the spirit of the monarch who originally ordered the warrior to guard the relic to dismiss him from his duty which it worked.

Alix promised to keep what she now knew as a secret.

A week later, Alix told everyone at lunch about a new exhibition that supposedly brings bad luck to those who come in contact with it and was brought into the museum this morning. She later invited Marinette over to check it out.

-----

It changed into a regular meet-up where they looked through newspapers and internet forums for supernatural sightings in Paris and checked it out during the weekends.

Sometimes, they get into life-threatening situations but they manage to get out of it each time with a few scrapes and bruises which they pass off as injuries from skating and parkour.

------

John found out that his daughter was in the ‘family business’ when he unexpectedly showed up in Paris after a portal mishap. (Roughly a year or two before Hawkmoth)

He went to the Dupain-Cheng bakery for a visit and Sabine told him that Marinette was out with a friend.

He went out to a nearby convenience store (what is the Walmart or Tesco equivalent over there?) and bought some silk-cut cigarettes.

John was in front of the store, trying to make his lighter light up and the next thing he knew, an earthquake happened. But it was no ordinary earthquake. This particular one was caused by the roar of a Minotaur. An angry one.

A shopping cart pulled by a unicorn whizzed down the street, occupied by three girls. The pink-haired girl was waving a club and yelling insults. The one, with black hair with purple streaks, looked terrified, hanging on for dear life but seemed to be having fun. A very familiar face was in the front holding the reins of the cart.

Marinette and John made a brief eye contact before the shopping cart continued on its way and around a corner.

The Minotaur chased after the cart.

“Bloody Hell.” John muttered as he put away his unlit cigarette to chase after his wayward daughter.

“Merde!" Marinette cursed along with a few others that she heard her mother say as she realized that her father was in Paris and just saw her getting into magical shenanigans. Which he explicitly told her not to do.

She was totally grounded.

Usually she would postpone these adventures out with Alix when her father was in the country. She was careful to not let anything about it slip. (Bribing demons with cookies for their silence worked, who knew. Plus she didn’t even have to sell her soul.)

To start from the beginning of how they got here, Juleka wanted to explore the catacombs and Alix and Marinette had tagged along because they had recently found some news about people disappearing in them and didn’t want their friend to disappear too.

After they accidentally stumbled into the lair of one famous Greek mythological beast, Alix made it angrier by grabbing its club and hitting it on the head so they could make their escape.

It chased them to the surface. Marinette got rid of all the illusions of being a normal girl (not that there were much to begin with) in front of Juleka and summoned her pet unicorn while Alix commandeered a shopping cart left outside a store to use as a chariot. (The unicorn name is Mocha due to the shade of its coat being the same colour as the Mocha macarons that her parents make. Its horn was a rose gold colour.)

John managed to track down the girls and the creature to a skate park.

Alix was now riding the unicorn and using a metal pipe as a jousting stick against the Minotaur who now had his club back.

Juleka was on the sideline, standing on the overturned shopping cart with a guitar, adjusting the strings and ignoring what was happening in front of her. (It’s Luka's. Anarka didn’t even blink an eye at the shopping cart pulled by a horse that dropped her daughter off who grabbed the guitar and shouted at her that she will be back for dinner before jumping back into it.)

His daughter, the reason he might die of a heart attack in his thirties, was yelling nonsensical phrases in what sounds like Spanish as she waved around a bright red coat around like a bull-fighter and nimbly dodged the Minotaur when he charged at her.

“I am ready.” Juleka shouted.

On her signal, Marinette threw her coat towards the charging Minotaur with a spell which made the coat wrap itself around the Minotaur like a red straightjacket.

As the creature struggled against its new bonds, Juleka strummed a lullaby on her guitar but the lyrics however were to Jagged Stone’s newest single, Labyrinth which was oddly fitting.

The creature soon became sleepy and slowly stopped struggling before it fell asleep.

Marinette whispered a spell to the Minotaur which made its eyes glow from under its eyelids and then waved her hand, her coat returned to her. She opened a portal on the ground beside the Minotaur which showed a stack of hay in some dark underground place on the other side. John guessed it was the Minotaur’s lair.

The three of them pushed the Minotaur to no avail until Mocha the unicorn and John helped them.

Despite being shoved and falling from five feet, the creature didn’t stir, not even when Alix dropped its club on it. A very exhausted Marinette closed the portal and used the other two as support to remain standing. Not really wanting to face her dad on top of everything.

“Hi. Dad, how are you doing? I didn’t know that you were in Paris.” She faced him with an innocent smile on her face.

“I had some magic mishap and ended up here. I decided to visit my darling daughter while I was in the neighbourhood. And can you just imagine how I felt when I found her doing the one thing I told her not to?”

“There was more than one thing you told me not to do. But that’s not what you want me to say, is it?” Marinette avoided looking at her dad who gave her the look, “Umm...do not make deals with demons?”

“Yes, that is true. But your sass is not appreciated, young lady. I have told you to not involve yourself with magic. As for the demons, Gowther had a few choice words regarding you.”

“You know!?”

“Of course, I do. I visited him a while back and he told me all about his very brief visit to earth. As your parent, I have to say….. I am very proud of you, Marinette.”

“I know that the holy water thing was a bit far but… wait what?”

“I am proud of you, kid.”

“Hold up. You are not mad or disappointed? Is this some reverse psychology thing?” Marinette said, internally panicking.

“Nope.” John grinned “That’s your mother’s job. And you know that she’s not going to like this. My job is to clean up messes and protect you as much as I can. By the way, tricking a demon to drink holy water instead of alcohol was brilliant. I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“How about me doing magic?”

“I am a little mad about that. But you were never going to listen to me about that anyways. At least you are not robbing a bank using your powers.”

“About that...Alix and I broke into the bank last month.”

“You what?”

“We had to get a magic coin for that annoying leprechaun.”

“Oh. I need to know more later but let me rephrase. As long as you are using it for the right reasons, helping people and not turning into a power-hungry sociopath, I am fine with it. But I want you to call me when you can’t handle it. I don’t want you to needlessly sacrifice yourself and overwork yourself like you just did.”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“Alright then, try standing on your own without your friends holding you up. Come on. Prove it.”

“...”

------

Juleka only sometimes tags along on the other two girls’ adventures, staying behind more often despite the numerous invitations and is usually the one to find new cases for them to check out.

Marinette would leave texts of where she is going and call her father when demons are involved or when she is overwhelmed like she promised. (Alix is the one to make the calls often because Marinette is stubborn at times.)

Sabine is well aware of what Marinette gets up to with Alix during their ‘sleepovers’. John told her after the Minotaur.

Marinette was grounded for a while but was allowed to continue her shenanigans afterwards with Alix on the condition that it doesn’t affect her grades because they all knew that Marinette was still going to do it anyways. (John muttered under his breath that at least she’s still in school.)

-----

(Part 5)

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha, @laurcad123, @pale-lady-dreamer, @frieddonutsweets, @demonicbusiness

#bio!dad john constantine #ml x dc #maribat #john constantine will not die from monsters or demons #but from a heart attack or high blood pressure with every reckless stunts Marinette pulls #with the reckless genes she inherited from him #what do you expect from teaching a kid magic?#I added the monkey king for no reasons other than I can #Damian will marry her for the menagerie of mythical animals she has for pets

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ruby-whistler · 4 years ago

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i made a list of the vibes of the hermits i watch, so you might want to check some of them out! this is just mostly jokes, but i thought all of the more “serious” propaganda was missing something, so have what truly makes hermitcraft worth it; the players’ unique styles!

will be back on my dsmp stuff asap but it’s the first day of season 8 and i would really appreciate if you checked them out through the links provided :]

Grian; [ episode one link ]

vibes of a 17 year old mcyter, is actually 27 and married

noo not my red jumpah!

chaotic capitalist

someone is making the server better through order? *starts another war* whoops, hand slipped :D

he built a- he rebuilt his entire megabase in survival, above a giant lake of lava, in the nether, on hard mode, upside down??

“watching as scar dies over and over in my trap is peak comedy and i’m tired of pretending it’s not” but it happens like 5 times i every season

video editing is very main-stream and good for short attention spans!

*sad montage over losing stuff he’ll get back in 15 minutes because he’s rich*

pesky birdd! great elytra flier! amazing builder! will tnt your house! poultrymannn!!

wholesome, chaos incarnate, talented architect

why won’t mumbo respond to my messages it’s been two weeks :[ (clingy)

doors???????????? your house has doors???? no doors for you good sir!

will laugh a lot at a lot of things, esp when he’s with his friends

genuinely just so fun to watch

Mumbo Jumbo; [ episode one link ]

perfect british accent

mustache man (warning: he has no mustache irl)

*fails ten businesses in a row* iskall please help

redstone is his element

“it’s actually quite simple” i like your funny words magic man, now can you repeat how in the hell you made a that fancy vault work-

filmographer?? i think? met up with grian irl

him and grian have a robot son named grumbot. that has nothing to do with the vibes but i had to mention him because he means a lot to me.

tries to stay out of wars and server politics until someone (grian) drags him into them

minigame maker, makes the hermits competitive and that is scary (also very funny) e. g. button, hermit challengesss!

“it’ll be fineee” *que shot of everything on fire behind him*

makes his base a living being and then all his neighbors end up feeding it instead of him

conspiracy theorist. bumbo baggins. the usual.

very entertaining videos that help you learn more about minecraft mechanics!

GoodTimesWithScar; [ episode one link ]

wheelchair creator with literally the best vibes

so wholesome i. he is so cool he makes me so happy :’D

*extremely cool announcer voice* ooooo hello there my fellow miners and crafters, good timeees with scar heree, and welcome backk to the wonderful world of hermits and crafting, and we’re flying over-

commentates everything extremely well

spends tenths of hours on builds within a single video and doesn’t bat an eye

lore for all of his builds! he builds these amazing bases to tell a story!

“i wanna see white flags! white flags, outside your base, by-“ wait no wrong anti-rebellion army leader

all videos have a clear objective

mostly building, but he loves hanging out/helping his friends!

loves disney movies! wants to go to space! :D

kind-hearted, always makes everyone else smile

can be chaotic but usually just tries to have fun and make sure everyone else has fun too

*flies into a tree on half a heart* wait what why did i die D:

scar. scar please eat. you’re going to die for the tenth time this video-

the non-chaotic capitalist, has extremely creative shop designs

a danger to himself, but also the kind of person you can’t be angry at for long

BdoubleO100; [ episode one link ]

the guitar music at the beginning of his videos brings a smile to my face, it just has such an immaculate mood

*camera pans over him as said music plays* ladies and gentlemen welcome to another episode of hoimycraffff

the way he talks is extremely endearing

one of the best builders on the server - probably best builder of interiors in existence

able to make a palette using any number of strange blocks and then make amazing builds using it

built a whole castle as a backdrop, then built an entire giant mountain for said castle

extremely sensitive to short jokes, usually gets pranked by others because his reactions are always so funny

his daughters show up from time to time in his room while he’s recording and it’s so cute

*has no way to see the sun but still knows it’s nighttime* gotta go schleep!

scar, pointing at him “this is why we can’t have nice sunsets”

(scar dies because of mobs every time bdubs isn’t on the server to sleep)

likes to be accomplice because he isn’t the one being made fun of (/lh)

*shoots himself in front of a confused grian because he thinks the guy wants his face again when he’s actually just looking for a netherportal*

is usually the underdog so it feels good when he wins

they’re all actually such great friends so it’s genuinely funny to watch

he himself is amazing at entertainment and just a very cool guy

ImpulseSV; [ episode one link ]

what’s going on everyone, my name is impulse and welcome back to hermitcraft!

always speaks with a smile in his voice

has a good dynamic with basically everyone

great co-worker and always helps out if he can

had his base turned pink during the swap, and instead of changing it back afterwards, he dyed his skin’s hair and clothing pink to match it

very cool and original building style!

makes a lot of farms and sells what he gets in his few shops

makes money to be able to do more stuff and make more farms

blows up most his base ever so often to rebuild parts. you know, like a normal person does in minecraft survival.

the grind is never over

the guy who always gets all of the work done on the school project and proceeds to be chill about it

always has very cool side-projects going on and puts his heart into all of them

pog timelapses!!

Rendog; [ episode one link ]

*short, funny scene from the video at the beginning slowly fades out into great music

dogs howling as the half-dog half-cog logo comes up*

greetiiings cyberdogs and citizens of the interbubs! this is ren diggity dawg coming atcha, in another minecraft episodes varuuummm the hermit. craft. server. (hey!)

we’re kicking things off today my friends, from the- *location name on screen*

that intro gets me hyped every time

he’s a furry who talks in bro language it’s great i swear - very atypical but fun

he transformed an entire biome into a star wars planet for his base

his building skills and dedication are incredible

horny (just a little bit)

the only person who cared about mycelium in the whole rebellion

does a lot of roleplay-themed stuff and mysteries to be solved

“b-dubba-dubs one hundred”

extremely upbeat & sweet guy

adds -age after everything “biddage” “flyage” to make it sound Cooler

amazingly positive always and funny as hell

mcc winner!! wooooooooo :D

always tries to be where stuff is happening and interact with people

very entertaining editing style

Iskall85; [ episode one link ]

drives joke into the mud and then picks them up and does it again which is funny

starts videos with one-off bits

iskallman!!! the superhero literally no one needed and yet there he is

only has one (1) braincell when with mumbo

they both do and they’re hilarious together every time

like when they laughed at squeaky noises for ten minutes straight. guys please you’re adult men

bernie the leaf master

omega (something) of doom!!

encourages gambling (in a videogame)

he has so many jokes he keeps using i can’t possibly fit them all in here

basically a wildcard

i have no idea what he’s doing this season

i have no idea what he’s doing ever actually

tame chaos, confusing to the point when it’s funny again

really great builder as well!

mostly for younger audiences but his videos are a good watch in general

feel free to send asks about hc! i’m already loosely involved in hermitblr but yeah, my dsmp followers aren’t immune :] /lh /j

#long post #hermitcraft #hermitcraft s8 #hermitblr #ruby's rambles #:]#all my personal opinions #just wanted to add to the hype lol

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luvnami · 4 years ago

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𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - wahh it’s here! can’t believe my brainrot of osamu teaching a cooking class turned into this long fic lol... i hope you enjoy it!! it was fun crafting the story with my beta readers and i put a lot of effort into it!!! itadakimasu <3

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @forgetou @amjustagirl (muacks 2x) + tq to everyone who helped me with the banner!!

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - you’re suna’s younger sibling, food, heartbreak, angst but happy ending, mentions of stabbing (joke), kita dances to ‘ice cream’ by selena gomez and blackpink, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood (brief), suna beats (redacted) up

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - miya osamu x gn!reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - you fall in love with miya osamu once more, but you’re afraid of getting hurt again.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5535

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

1. Cook the rice according to your rice cooker, then transfer the cooked rice to a separate bowl to cool it down.

“What ya want t’do is scorch the soy sauce.”

The class presses themselves against Osamu’s workbench as they scribble down notes on their recipe printouts. Their lips purse to ooh and aah at his cooking skills, though you’re pretty sure that they’re more interested in how his biceps flex when he flips the wok with a trained flick of the wrist.

You stand at the very edge of the group. It’s better than getting close with a group of hungry housewives, really. If grocery store and department mall sales have ever told you anything, it’s to never get in the way of what a seasoned housewife wants. Unfortunately for you, you haven’t learnt the way of being a homemaker just yet.

You’re unemployed, right in the middle of a month and a half-ish long transfer between jobs. You currently stay at your brother Suna’s place — which is really just an apartment filled with dirty laundry overflowing from its seams.

Turns out Suna himself is a bit of a gossip. He told Kita who told Atsumu who told Osamu that you’re stuck at his place 24/7 with no friends or entertainment in the lovely city of Nagano. It’s just mountains and trees as far as the eye can see all around — and there’s only so many hikes you can take each week.

“Why don’t you take a cookin’ class?”

“Cookin’?” Your face screwed up in confusion. “ What for?”

“So that you can actually pull your weight around the house and make me something to eat.”

You chucked a pillow at his head and began to list all the things you did while staying at his apartment. Laundry, cleaning the floor, doing grocery shopping (even if it was only instant noodles and snacks), finding his disgustingly sweaty socks under the sofa and many other important chores, thank you very much.

Besides, you weren’t as eager when you saw who was the one that would be holding the classes. With his picture plastered across the front of a pamphlet, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. Years of chasing his dreams and training in a kitchen had done Osamu wonders.

You had half a mind to smack Suna in the head with the yellow, glossy paper, but instead you quietly tucked it into a corner of the guest room to look at later. You were sure Suna hadn’t forgotten your history with Osamu just yet — but perhaps he assumed that enough time had passed to heal your wounds.

Either way, there’s no going back now. That’s how you ended up at Osamu’s ‘Cooking class for homemakers — you can do it too!’, except you aren’t a homemaker. You shift your weight from one foot to the other as the sound of sizzling soy sauce fills the air. Osamu pauses for a while before beginning to mix the rice with the sauce, wielding his spatula and wok expertly like weapons.

“Miya-san, you’re amazing!” someone gushes.

He lets out a bashful laugh. “This is nothing. I’m sure everyone will be able to do this by the end of class today!”

You wonder if he’s ever considered being a teacher. The demonstration on how to make shrimp fried rice is soon over and everyone returns to their benches, eager to try out the recipe. You are no different. Scurrying to your bench at the very back of the classroom, you exchange glances between the printed recipe handout and your tray of ingredients.

“Need any help?”

Osamu’s voice and looming presence makes you jump.

“Woah! Careful there,” he chuckles, his fingers gently prying a knife out of your hands.

Unconsciously, you had raised it in shock when Osamu snuck up on you. The knife now lays safely on the tabletop and you feel the eyes of the entire class boring into you.

“Sorry, Miya-san. I didn’t see you,” you apologise meekly.

“Don’t worry about it, I shouldn't have scared ya like that. And no need for the formalities! You’re my friend’s sister, afta’ all.”

Oh goodness. You half expect the class to pick up their pots and pans and run at you right this moment. You swallow back the half hearted ‘Osamu-san’ that rises in your throat. Your heart trembles in your chest and for a second, the silence that weighs heavily between the both of you turns awkward.

“Miya-san! Could you help me with this please?”

You’ve never been so glad to hear Tachibana’s sickly shrill voice before. Osamu is quick to wave goodbye to you before hurrying over to her bench, a smile still on his face. You breathe a sigh of relief.

You make a mental note to tell Suna that Osamu should just stick to placating those housewives and leave you the hell alone. The last thing you want is to have blackmail spread around the neighbourhood by these gossipy housewives, or worse, have their daughters hunt you down and chop you up into pieces.

Whatever. You’re just here to learn how to make shrimp fried rice and then go home to your annoying older brother. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be here for long. Miya Osamu just happens to be the local heartthrob, the handsome and eligible bachelor chased by anyone single and ready to mingle. You have absolutely nothing to do with someone so popular and good-looking. And for goodness sake, he’s your brother’s high school friend and your… Well, you know.

Your face burns and you pick up the knife again, grip tightening on its handle. You begin chopping at the onions with renewed determination.

(Later on, when you bring back a tupperware of fried rice for Suna, he looks you in the eye and asks “Shrimp fried this rice?”.

You shoot him a glare.

“I fried this rice.”)

2. Prepare all the fillings that you are going to use and set aside, such as pickled plums or tuna mayo. Prepare your seaweed sheets.

What you don’t expect is for Miya Osamu to show up at your doorstep the next day with boxes of food, cartons of drinks and a very noisy brother of his in tow.

“Rin, where can I leave the drinks?” Osamu yells.

“Rin, can I play your PS5?” Atsumu shouts.

You think that they are very different, the Miya twins. Suna takes a minute to finish putting on some clothes (you had answered the door, thankfully. No one wants to see Suna Rintarou in Pikachu boxers) before bursting out of his room.

He’s quick to smack Atsumu’s ‘dirty little setter hands’ away from his precious Playstation, directing Osamu to what constitutes the apartment’s kitchen — a second-hand fridge and the building-installed gas stove that works only if you hit it hard enough. You’re surprised that neither you or Suna haven't died of a house fire or gas poisoning by now.

It doesn’t take long for the other Inarizaki alumni to arrive at Suna’s apartment in a series of doorbell rings. Kita even brings along a large bottle of sake, to which everyone cheers loudly. You don’t understand why they had chosen Suna’s place to have a reunion party. Seriously, wouldn't Onigiri Miya or some other izakaya have been a better choice?

However, there’s free flow of drinks and lots of yummy snacks, so you decide to let the noise wash over you and stand by the food table to pick at the trays of pizza, fried chicken and other finger food. Aran even offers you a drink, smiling sweetly before going off to wrangle Atsumu from trying to initiate a beer chugging competition. Some things just never change, you suppose.

“Having fun?”

You jump and nearly drop the plate of food that you hold.

“You have a horrible habit of scaring people, Miya- Osamu.”

His first name comes out awkward, tumbling off of your tongue as you use a pair of chopsticks to carefully pile back some mentaiko mayonnaise onto a slice of tamagoyaki. Osamu settles into the crook of the kitchen counter next to you with a playful grin on his face.

“Do I really?”

“Don’t forget that the first time you did that, someone nearly got stabbed.”

You pop the tamagoyaki into your mouth. It’s delicious — the egg’s sweetness balances out the salty sauce. You wonder if there’s enough left on the tray for seconds.

“How’s the reunion going?” you ask nonchalantly, and shuffle a few centimetres away from him.

You hope Osamu doesn’t notice that. He does, however, but chooses not to comment on it. He brings up a hand to scratch at his neck, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He’s close enough for you to get a whiff of whatever cologne he’s wearing. Your head spins for a second.

“Oh, none of us have gotten drunk just yet. I’m pretty sure we’ll be playing beer pong or something later on.”

You steel yourself against the urge to look at what Osamu is wearing. Don’t look, don’t look, definitely don’t look. Miya Osamu is, has been, a dangerous man to fall in love with. You can’t afford to-

Perhaps gouging your eyes out would have been a better choice in theory. Even a glance from where you stand beside him is enough to see that not only is he wearing a tight, black T-shirt, Osamu also has a pair of sweatpants on. Is it a sin to wear sweatpants? Probably so, especially with the way it makes your throat run dry.

“Beer pong, huh?” You try your best to mumble somewhat nonchalantly. “Who won the last time?”

“Kita.”

“Kita?!” you gasp.

Even that’s enough to make you forget about Osamu and his stupid (and very sexy) sweatpants.

“Yeah, right? That was the first time he participated. All of us got left drunk in the street, so we decided to do it at someone’s place this year.”

You let out a soft laugh at the thought of a bunch of grown men piled over each other on the road. You don’t particularly like the thought of cleaning up after them tonight, though.

The lack of words between you and Osamu descends into snorts of laughter that trickle in from the tiny living room. Aran throws his head back, drink nearly spilling out of his cup. Ginjima laughs so loud you see Omiomi cover his ears and Suna holds his phone up, filming every second of Atsumu’s defeat.

Osamu opens his mouth as if to ask you something.

“C’mon! Yer killin’ me, Kita-san!” Atsumu yells, socked feet and waving arms trying to match the onscreen character’s movements.

Kita, on the other hand, is scoring perfect marks without as much effort wasted. You giggle to yourself as he moves his hips, shaking them here and there. A small smile quirks his lips upwards as he finishes with a flawless ending move on ‘Ice Cream’, the Just Dance characters fading into oblivion on the screen. Atsumu crumbles to the floor in defeat.

Osamu’s lips form a straight line as he watches you laugh along, raising a hand to cover your mouth. He curses Atsumu’s birth and swallows back his embarrassment.

“Did ya see that, Osamu? Oh- Kita-san is so good at everything!” you gush.

“Atsumu just sucks.”

When you laugh, Osamu thinks something in his chest lurches. Regret makes his head go foggy and leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

3. Place cling wrap over a rice bowl. Place some of the cooked rice over the centre of the cling wrap and make a well.

“No way ya got a love letter!” Atsumu yelled.

“Ya get yer fair share. We share t’same face, why shouldn’t I get some?” Osamu retorted, rolling his eyes.

Suna watched as the twins began to gripe and argue about who was the better looking sibling again. Nothing unusual, really, given how this occurred every odd day of the week.

“S’gotta be a prank. No way someone likes a loser like you,” Suna mused.

In retaliation, Osamu threw him a stink eye. “You two are just jealous,” he sniffed.

The letter had been written on pretty pink paper, all hearts and cute handwriting as his secret admirer asked him to meet them on the roof after school. Not that Osamu wasn’t affected by it, of course. It always rubbed his ego the right way to know that someone preferred him over Atsumu. Though, it wasn’t like he was interested in anyone then. It only took a second before Osamu ripped the letter in half.

“Woah woah woah! Yer crazy! Whatcha gonna do if some pretty girl gave that to ya?”

Atsumu’s eyes widened in shock, almost reaching forward to grab the shreds of letter that Osamu had torn up.

“Does it matter? S’not like I’m interested in datin’ right now,” he replied.

“Seriously? What if she’s like, super duper hot!”

Osamu’s face screwed up. “Are ya a horndog?”

Just as Atsumu was about to shout at his dear brother again, you opened the door to their classroom and hurried in. You had a bento box in hand and a cute pout on your face as you placed it on Suna’s table.

“Rin! You forgot your bento at home again!”

“Oh.” Suna blinked. “Thanks.”

“Seriously, you gotta stop forgetting your things! I can’t be bringing them to you all the time-”

“Hey, Suna.” Atsumu perked up, referring to you. “Would ya go on a date with Samu or me? Me, right? Definitely me!”

Your face flushed with heat. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“‘Samu got a love letter in his shoe locker this morning. Cliche, huh?” your brother said between bites of his lunch.

“Mm, yeah. Cliche,” you mumbled.

You looked around anxiously for any sign of the love letter. Was it in Osamu’s bag?

“Can ya believe he tore it up?” Atsumu laughed.

“What?”

Your heart felt like a stone in your chest as you froze, your blood running cold.

“Yeah! This dumbass doesn’t know how t’appreciate anythin’,” he replied, smacking Osamu on the back of his head.

His twin responded with a muffled growl as he continued to scarf down his absurdly large bento. You fiddled with the cuffs of your sleeves, staring down at your feet. You were quick to bid the third years goodbye as you fled their classroom as an inexplicable ache spread through your chest.

You didn’t focus on your classes for the rest of the day. The fact that Osamu had torn your love letter, written with all your heart and soul as you crumpled draft after draft last night, tipped you over the edge of your fantasies and had you plummeting straight into reality.

“Oi.”

You looked up from your feet, glancing up at Suna. The both of you were swapping your indoor shoes for outdoor ones, but you had absentmindedly stopped in the middle of slipping your right foot into a shoe. It was nearing the time where they closed the school gates, so there weren’t many students around save for the odd volleyball club member.

“What’re you doing? Put your shoes on properly,” he huffed.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, and slammed the locker door shut once you were done.

You walked a few feet ahead of Suna as you approached the school gate. Your head drooped with each step, tears beginning to mist your eyes. You willed yourself to hold it in till you got home, till you were in the safety of your bedroom to start sobbing your little heart out. Suna tugged on your wrist.

“Are you crying?” he questioned.

You shook your head quickly, rubbing your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“Oi. Answer me.”

This time, his voice was a little softer, yet held a mixture of irritation and anger behind a crumbling wall of apathy. Who had been the one to make you cry?

“It’s nothin’,” you choked out. “Let’s just go home.”

You turned your face to the side as tears continued to roll down your cheeks, muffled cries turning into heartbroken sobs. Something inside of Suna’s head clicked.

“It’s Miya Osamu, isn’t it?”

You had to bite on your lower lip to stop it from trembling.

“That bastard tore up your letter, didn’t he?”

You gave Suna the tiniest of nods. He let go of your wrist and whipped around, eyebrows furrowed together. Not wanting to date was one thing, but treating your confession like dog shit was something else. Fortunately for him, the Miya twins were changing their shoes in the getabako.

“‘Samu!” Suna yelled.

The gray haired male looked up with a face of confusion.

“Suna? Whaddya want-” Osamu wasn’t able to say anything more as Suna’s fist collided with his face.

Atsumu jumped back with a yelp as the both of them crashed to the ground. Your hands flew to cover your mouth.

“Rin! Stop it!” you cried out.

You dashed over, tripping over your own feet as you tried to pull Suna away from Osamu as they traded blows. It took the work of you, Atsumu and Ginjima (who had been unlucky enough to pass by) to tear the two apart, and even then Osamu was still struggling in his brother’s arms to be let go.

“What t’hell, man!” he snarled.

Suna wiped his nose, glancing briefly at the crimson that stained his school uniform. The adrenaline was beginning to run low and pain began to settle into his fists and ribs. His shoulders heaved with each breath, and your hands clutched his shirt.

“Rin. No more, please,” you begged, pressing your forehead against his back. “No more.”

Suna hated the way your voice trembled as you spoke. He didn’t think it was fair for you to bear the burden of pain while Osamu got to walk away unscathed, leaving you broken in pieces. His fist curled up again.

“It’s not worth it, Rin.”

Suna took in a shaky, deep breath.

You were right.

Miya Osamu wasn’t worth it.

4. Put about 1tbsp of the filling of your choice on the centre of the rice and cover it with rice.

A week comes and goes after the annual Inarizaki reunion. You’re still finding sticky stains on the floor, as well as food wrappers tossed behind the sofa. Suna sends the group chat a video of you yelling at all of them while wielding a mop with so much fervour Aran asks if you broke it. Atsumu actually apologises and Osamu offers to come over and help clean up. The entire group chat flames him immediately.

As per last week, you walk into Osamu’s cooking class at 2p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. It’s hot outside, droplets of perspiration rolling down your nape. The cool air-conditioning of the classroom is much appreciated and you don your apron behind the gaggle of housewives. You catch snippets of their conversation as they put their items in the cubbies provided.

“Tanaka-san, did you see the mushrooms that were on sale this Monday?”

“My son is attending this cram school this summer. Here’s the address!”

“My father-in-law keeps complaining about the heat…”

“Good afternoon, everyone.”

“Miya-san!”

Everyone perks up when Osamu walks through the door. They’re quick to surround him, asking how his day had been. You look tired, take this ginseng drink! It really revitalises your spirits! Did you get a girlfriend yet, Miya-san? My daughter is single, you know!

You watch as Osamu walks behind his bench, all smiles and “Is that so, Shigeru-san?”. Polite enough to please them, but not enough to make them think that he actually wants to go on a date with their 34 year-old daughter who’s a tired office worker looking out for potential husbands like a hawk. He lets out a heavy exhale, using his cap with the Onigiri Miya logo on it to fan himself.

“Hot today, isn’t it?” he chuckles.

You think that maybe he’s the one that’s making this summer so warm, especially with the way that his shirt clings to his figure and his flushed cheeks that make him look adorable.

Wait.

You do a double take. Ah, adorable. You must have meant that heart-print apron that Tanaka is wearing today. It is pretty cute, and you wonder if you should ask her where she got it from later on. Definitely not Osamu with his perfect smile that would make anyone’s heart skip a beat, and definitely not when it’s directed at you.

“Gather around everyone! We’re going to be making gyoza today!”

The demonstration goes as usual — Osamu impresses the housewives, they gasp and someone even touches his forearm and asks “How did you get so strong, Miya-san?”. Not that you care, of course. You certainly don’t. What you’re more concerned about is how Osamu manages to make wrapping the fragile gyoza seem so easy.

Your fingers pinch at the thick dough, eyebrows furrowed together. No matter what you do, your filling keeps spilling out of the wrapper and so you’ve opted to try out for a thicker piece this time. Not that it really matters — Suna will be the one suffering from food poisoning if it turns out bad, anyways.

“Ah, yer made it too thick,” Osamu says as he strolls over.

You tense up as he leans over your shoulder, peeking at the chubby gyoza in your hands. You pretend not be affected by how close he is and continue pinching the wings of the dumpling shut.

“They keep bursting,” you sniff.

“Maybe ya put t’much filling?” Osamu suggests. “Here, lemme show ya. Put tha’ one down and grab a new wrapper. Yeah, just like that.”

You stiffen as Osamu flours his hands and cradles your hands in his.

“Here ya go. That’s t’much, scoop out some more. That’s it. Now gently…”

Blood rushes to your face as you feel the warmth of his skin seep into yours, his hands rough from years of training and cooking. Scars adorn the tips of his thick fingers and knuckles. You suddenly feel the urge to gently trace them with your thumb, to ask him how he got each one of them.

Would he let you? Let you so close, that perhaps you would be the one to know every single thing about him?

“You did it!” Osamu says cheerfully.

He suddenly pulls away, making you plummet back to reality. A perfectly made gyoza sits in your hands.

“I’m looking forward to tasting your gyoza later on. Now keep trying!”

You’re left dumbfounded as Osamu walks away to help out the other housewives. They stammer and blush when they get too close, but he never holds their hands in his own, never smiles as gently as he does with you.

You place the gyoza on a pan and put the lid on with a little bit more force than what is necessary.

5. Wrap the cling wrap over the rice and squeeze and mould it into a triangle shape with your hands.

You try not to make contact with Osamu after that. Attending his cooking classes becomes a game of cat-and-mouse, where you try to tell him ‘I don’t need any help, Miya-san’ and watch him crawl away in defeat. In fact, you decide to skip the lesson on making hamburgs and instead spend the afternoon watching television.

After all, from what you’ve learnt in the past, Osamu is nothing more than trouble. You think it’s worth the sacrifice now to put some space between the both of you so that you don’t end up heartbroken a second time.

Though, you do feel a little bad. Just a little bit. One day when Suna’s out at training, you hear the doorbell ring and Osamu’s voice ring through the genkan. You hear his feet shuffle by the door and a heavy thump outside before he leaves. You only open the door when you hear his car pull out of the apartment building’s carpark, and find a packed bento lunch for you in front.

You try to pretend that the bunny cut apples and sakura shaped carrot slices don’t mean anything.

“Ah, Suna-san! Where were you last week?” Tachibana titters as you step into class for the final lesson.

“I wasn’t feeling very well,” you lie. “I think I caught a summer cold.”

“Oh dear, that sounds terrible!” the ladies chorus together.

You think they’re probably just glad that you didn’t get in the way of their beloved Miya-san. You tug your apron over your head, and ignore Osamu when he greets everyone. His eyes linger on you for a little too long during the demonstration — to the point that he actually burns the skin side of his salmon fillet.

Osamu skirts around your bench like a nervous puppy when the demonstration is over. You don’t seem particularly keen about talking to him, though the tips of your finger tremble when he finally plucks up the courage to stand next to you. It’s not close enough for your elbows to touch, but close enough that he can whisper to you without anyone else hearing him.

“Hey,” he begins, uncertain. His voice wavers slightly.

“Hey,” you reply, wary of what he might say.

“Are you okay?”

You take a moment to think, tipping the sake bottle carefully to measure out an exact tablespoon of it. He wonders when your hands have seemed so delicate, so small. He aches to hold them in his own again.

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good.”

It’s quiet, again. Just like that night in Suna’s apartment, with all the noise of the reunion going on around you, except this time it's the clanging of pans and utensils, paired with the chatter of many ladies.

“I was thinking…” Osamu stares down at your hands, turning the measuring spoon over so that sake splashes onto the hot pan with a sizzle. “Maybe we could get a drink together after this?”

You cover the pan and watch its surface cloud up with condensation. You hide your shaking hands by digging them into the pockets of your apron.

Osamu swallows. Perhaps he had been too direct with you; scared you off with how quickly he was advancing. Or did Suna tell you to be careful of him? That he didn’t want you falling in love with him a second time? There’s no lie about it, that Osamu had been a grade A asshole back in high school.

But he loves you now; has loved you since then. Would you be willing to give him a second chance?

“Osamu,” you breathe.

His shoulders relax slightly when you don’t call him by his last name.

“I don’t know what to do.”

Your voice comes out timid, scared. Osamu’s heart crumbles at the edges. He wonders if you would hate him if he reached out and took your hands in his once more. You’re both adults, perfectly capable of rational thinking if only your hearts hadn’t gotten in the way. Love hurts, they said. You want to agree.

“We can start it out slow,” Osamu suggests.

“I’m supposed to start my new job next month. I won't be in Nagano for much longer.”

“I’m opening a branch in Tokyo.”

“I’ll be busy settling down. We might not get to see each other often enough.”

“A little is better than nothin’.”

“You’re my brother’s friend.”

“Now, yer just picking at nothing, babe. Didn’t you have a crush on me back in high school, too? That didn’t stop ya, did it?”

Your heart wrestles with your brain, insisting on comfort and that love will always come in the form of someone that isn’t Miya Osamu. You’ll find someone, but will they be better? Will they send food to your doorstep, or send you stupid photos of dogs he saw on the street? Will they chase after you relentlessly for years, will they be Osamu?

A lump forms in your throat and you wonder if this, has been, is love. You tear your heart out from within you and let it cling to your sleeve, as pathetic and scared it is. You don’t mind if it hurts. To never hurt is to never have lived, to never have loved.

By this point, your eyes have misted up with tears and it hits you- You’re about to cry about your crush in the middle of a cooking class attended by middle-aged ladies. You’ve never been more embarrassed.

“Really?” you whisper, looking up at Osamu with glittering eyes.

He ignores the “Miya-san! I need your help!” that rings out in the background. He smiles gently.

“Yeah, really.”

A tear slips down your face. Osamu lets out a breathy chuckle as he swipes it away with his thumb, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

“We’ll talk properly after this, alright?”

You nod numbly. You watch as he hurries off to Shigeru, gasping when he sees how she had completely butchered her fillet. He turns back to you, trying to hold in a snigger.

You giggle.

Osamu thinks he wants to hear that laugh forever.

6. Remove the cling wrap and cover the bottom of the rice triangle with a nori sheet and set aside.

“One extra large bonito onigiri with spring onions!” you cry out from the counter.

Back in the kitchen, Osamu and another part-time worker scoop steaming rice out of large vats and use their hands to mould them into perfectly shaped triangles. A scoop of filling goes in and a strip of seaweed is wrapped hastily around the onigiri before it's sent to you to package. You place the onigiri carefully into a box and slip it into a paper bag with the shop’s logo on the front for a take-away order.

The shop is filled with customers even on a Wednesday afternoon. The clock shows 2p.m., past lunch time, yet you can see a queue that snakes out of the shop and down the alleyway.

Another long day ahead, you think to yourself.

“It’s our turn!” a little girl squeals as she takes the bag from you, opening it up to peer at the huge onigiri inside. “Mama! ‘giri!”

Her mother laughs and pats her head. “Don’t forget to say thank you, Haru.”

The girl turns to you, eyes sparkling. “‘Fank you, Miya-shan!”

A cheery grin almost splits your face in half. Miya-san. Four years on and it still makes your stomach flip whenever you hear that Osamu’s last name has become yours. It was an easy decision for the both of you to get married, really. You had loved each other for years and all you wanted to do in the end was to spend the rest of your lives together.

You quit your office job just before you got married to help Osamu out with the new Onigiri Miya branches. It took some getting used to, but the familiar customers and bright smiles that you see just by serving onigiri each day makes it worth it. It’s tough work, no doubt. But doing what you enjoy with the man you love is more rewarding than it ever could be.

Though, it’s not like your relationship has always been smooth sailing. There are days when you bicker over something stupid (like how you always forget to close the lid of the rice cooker), or when Osamu insists that he isn’t overworking himself (although his eyebags tell otherwise). But love’s a recipe with a few secret ingredients, and you’ve come to master it over the years.

“Come back soon!”

The shop is filled with the fragrant scent of freshly cooked rice and bonito flakes being stir-fried into furikake. Customers perch on tiny stools as they scarf down onigiri of different shapes and sizes, licking their fingers clean. A plush toy of Onigiri Miya’s mascot sits on the counter next to a potted plant that Atsumu bought (which is surprisingly still alive).

A photograph of the third Tokyo branch’s grand opening hangs on the wall. You and Osamu hold up a bouquet of flowers, smiling toothily at the camera, your wedding rings glinting in the sunlight.

“One medium onigiri with tuna mayo, coming right up!”

You jump as Osamu shouts out the order suddenly and you nearly drop the onigiri that he hands to you.

“Woah, careful there,” he chuckles, a hand ghosting the small of your back.

“You have ‘ta stop scaring me, ‘Samu,” you huff and roll your eyes playfully.

Osamu grins at you and the edges of his eyes crinkle up. You place the onigiri safely into its packaging and place it on the counter for a customer to collect, before turning back to plant a kiss on his cheek. Osamu’s face flushes pink and he hurries away, mumbling something about bonito flakes.

Your heart soars in your chest.

Yeah, it has been, will be, worth it.

7. Repeat the same steps as above to use the rest of the rice with other fillings that you prepared.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fic #miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu angst #miya osamu fic #osamu x reader #osamu fluff #osamu angst #osamu fic #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq angst #hq fic #hq osamu

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sluttyten · 4 years ago

Text

the cinderella search

summary: you’re a staff member at SM, and during the annual Halloween party, you go dressed as Cinderella. Enter Johnny as Prince Charming. You talk, you flirt, he falls in love, but you forget to tell him your name before the night ends, and thus begins his Cinderella Search.

length: 10,615

tags: near-strangers to lovers, bed sharing, fingering, dry humping, fluff, light on the smut compared to some of my other works tbh

Growing up, Cinderella had always been your favorite fairy tale. You just really loved the glamor and romance of the story, the idea of dressing up all beautifully and mysteriously, going to a ball to be noticed by the Prince.

And once you grew up, you still had that fantasy tucked away in the back of your mind, made more real when you entered the idol industry by joining SM Entertainment as a staff member. You were just a minor staff member, not important enough to be a manager (though that was the dream), but you were around idols so often that the fantasy was there, prodding you in the back of your mind.

There were days when you dreamed of being swept up in a Cinderella-style romance with one of the idols in the company.

“I can’t blame you one bit,” your close friend Jiwon tells you one day. She’s a makeup artist for the company; she’s seen their bare faces, seen them up close and personal, and having worked there for longer than you, she knows various artists under the company better than you do. “I won’t disagree with you at all that a secret romance with one of them would be amazing. Just like a drama. I want Kyungsoo to be my prince charming.” She sighs dreamily. “I can’t wait for the Halloween party.”

That’s exactly what you’ve been talking about almost non-stop since you first heard that it was happening this year. With the party not having happened for a few years now due to one thing or another, this year it’s come back with a bang, and when the memo was put out that every staff member was invited to come in costume as well, just as a celebration for how hard everyone’s worked, it’s all that pretty much everyone’s been talking about. You’re excited that you get to go, that you get to dress up as well, and what caused Jiwon to start gushing about D.O. is you mentioning that you wanted to go dressed as Cinderella.

“Promise we can get ready together?” She asks you. “I really, really want to do your hair and makeup, I can already picture it.” Jiwon holds her fingers up, framing your face between them.

It helped that you already had the dress to wear for your costume. You’d spotted it a few years ago in a thrift shop, and because of your pure love for Cinderella, as soon as you saw the dress, you knew that you had to have it. Sure, it had been collecting dust in your closet for a couple years, but now you had found the perfect use for it at last.

The day of the Halloween party, Jiwon comes over just as she’d planned, taking as much of the day as she possibly can to make you up and style your hair to make you look like the Cinderella of her imagination. She’s just going simply, wearing all black with some cat ears, some whiskers drawn on her face, but most of her attention to detail is poured into her work on you.

By the time she finishes the last touch, you’re ready to leave. Already you’re going to be cutting it close to showing up late, so as she drops her brushes back in the bag she brought, you grab your phone, and make for the door.

“Oh no, you’re not finished yet.” She snakes her hand around your arm, bringing you to a halt. Jiwon tuts at you. “Cinderella can’t go to the ball without her mask.”

Like a true fairy godmother, Jiwon pulls a beautiful mask out of the makeup bag. “I saw this when I was shopping for my costume, and I knew it would just be perfect. You can’t be Cinderella and have everyone know who you are, that goes against the point of being Cinderella, right?”

She carefully sits the mask on your made-up face, ties the ribbons around the back of your head, trying not to disturb the work she put into your hair.

“Can we go now, fairy godmother?” You ask. “Before midnight, preferably.”

The fairytale vibe of the night truly hits home once you arrive at the party’s venue. Everyone’s in costumes, and at first it’s overwhelming because you can’t immediately distinguish the idols from the staff from the higher-ups in the company. As you and Jiwon step inside, you can only make out a few distinct people.

Red Velvet’s Irene is dressed like an actual goddess, complete with an array of stars in an arc around her (an interesting choice that definitely makes sure no one gets too close to her). You spot Chanyeol standing tall over the group of people he’s talking with too. And then you see him.

Prince Charming.

Johnny Suh.

He looks breathtakingly handsome, wearing a white uniform adorned with golden tassels and medals. His hair is gelled back from his face, and he’s in the middle of laughing at the princess beside him, though her back is to you. Johnny literally looks like a prince with his face full of sunlit radiance, and in that moment your heart yearns. You wish you had a Prince Charming, but it’s clear that this one already has his princess.

And then she turns around with a flip of her long, dark wavy hair.

You burst out laughing so loud that Jiwon hits your arm to make you quiet down.

Hendery is dressed as a princess, clinging to Johnny’s arm as Jungwoo and Ten stand there with them, both of them laughing along with the costumed couple.

There are several other princesses you soon realize. Staff members and female artists have both dressed as princesses, and the more of them you see, the more you think that you’re not the Cinderella of this ball. There’s others that shine with more glitz and glamor than your thrifted dress ever could. So you mostly stick to yourself, seated at a table in the corner, sipping at your drink to avoid talking to a drunk coworker when he stumbles into his seat at the table.

You just watch the party, suddenly no longer feeling it because the best looking man here tonight is clearly Johnny Suh (which you’ve thought that numerous times before, but especially so tonight) and it’s obvious that everyone else thinks so too. He wins a prize. He has people coming up to him all night, fawning over him, running their fingers through the tassels on his shoulders.

“Stop pouting,” Jiwon tells you as she drops down into the seat beside yours. She sits a fresh drink down in front of you. “Just drink this down and come have fun with me. We can mingle and actually get the chance to speak to some of these idols we never work with.”

You know she has her eyes on D.O. who’s standing in a clear line of sight from where you’re both sitting, holding an audience of a few people captive with his story.

“You go.” You nod toward him. “Here’s your chance, Jiwon.”

She frowns at you. “I didn’t spend so long making you look like Cinderella just for you to sit all glum in the corner. You look fantastic, darling, and if you don’t get up and show off that lovely dress and your beautiful face, then we can’t be friends anymore.” She folds her arms in front of her and pouts.

“If I go get some more drinks, does that count?”

“It’s an improvement at least.” She sighs. “I’m going to try to talk to him. While I’m gone, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She eyes your coworker who’s slumped over in his chair now, starting to snore. “And make sure he doesn’t puke on himself.”

You have no intention of babysitting a guy who takes every opportunity to steal credit from you, so you definitely leave the table as soon as Jiwon walks away.

You’re standing at the bar area, waiting for the man behind the counter to make the drink you’d requested, when someone comes up beside you, just a figure in the corner of your eye. It’s only when he speaks that you look up to see who he actually is.

“I think you dropped this,” Johnny says, and he’s holding up one of the satiny blue gloves you’d worn tonight. You’d taken them off while you ate, and you forgot you’d tucked them in the ribbon around your waist.

“Oh, thank you.” You incline your head and reach for the glove, but when your fingers brush Johnny’s, you pull away with your whole hand tingling. “I probably dropped the other one somewhere too.” You look around, searching the floor.

Johnny chuckles. “No, it’s still right there.”

You feel a blush rising to your cheeks, and you’re grateful that you’re wearing the mask that hides most of your face. The other glove is still safely tucked at your waist, and as Johnny tells the bartender what he’d like, you pull both gloves onto your hands.

“Here’s your drink, Princess.” The man behind the counter winks as he says it, pushing the drink toward you. “And yours, Prince Charming.”

You take your drink and start to walk away, planning to head back to your comfortable corner to drink alone in peace, but then you notice Johnny just a step behind you.

“I think you’re the only person dressed as a princess tonight that hasn’t come up to talk to me tonight.” He says, “Which is unfortunate, since I saw you the moment you walked in, and I wanted to come talk to you then, but Hendery wouldn’t let go of me. I think you deserved best costume; I’ve never seen a better Cinderella.”

His flattery works wonders on melting what nervousness you have in talking with him. Johnny’s all but a stranger to you. You don’t work closely with NCT, but on the few occasions you’ve gotten to work with them, Johnny was always such a large personality, so nice and funny and handsome. Maybe you definitely have a ridiculous crush on him. But it’s always been foolish and far-fetched.

This is the first conversation you’ve ever had with him, and you don’t quite make it back to that table in the back corner. Johnny drags you down to sit beside him at his table, and even though you’re surrounded by the other members, the way he’s looking at you as you talk makes it feel like it’s only the two of you in the whole building.

You finish your drink, lose track of time, and by the time that the party’s really and truly ending, you’ve forgotten everything but the way that Johnny looks at you, the sound of his voice, and how much that you have in common with him. Maybe it’s ridiculous to form such a deep connection with someone at a party, especially when tomorrow you go back to being just a lowly staff member and he’s a world-famous idol.

But Princess Hendery is the one to break up this intimate conversation. His hand lands on Johnny’s shoulder, and Johnny’s head snaps around.

“Hyung, your ride’s about to leave.” Hendery pats Johnny’s shoulder, and then points down the length of the table to a man you recognize as an NCT manager. A tipsy Jaehyun walks by, his fingers twisting in the neck of Johnny’s uniform, and he leans in to whisper something in Johnny’s ear, his fingers slipping down to get a better grip on Johnny’s uniform, and then he’s dragging Johnny out of his seat, pulling him away out the door with their manager before you can get another word in.

You look around then, somewhat dazed at being pulled back into non-Johnny reality, and also slightly buzzed from your drinks, and you realize that the room has emptied out around you, only a handful of people remain. Including Jiwon. She’s bright red and grinning from ear to ear, leaning on a man in costume.

You refuse to let her make any drunken mistakes tonight, so you make your way over, loop your arm around her waist. “Come on, fairy godmother, it’s midnight and we need to get home before the spell wears off.”

Jiwon moans and groans, reluctantly letting you lead her out of the party at last, taking her home to pass out on your sofa.

And it’s a bit later as you fall into bed fresh from your shower with all the makeup washed away now, as you look happily at the photos you’d taken with Jiwon and some selfies you’d snapped several times throughout the night, that you tragically remember that you never gave Johnny your name.

By tragedy or fate or something else against you in the universe, you don’t get to see Johnny again before your position in the company takes you overseas. Not long term, just for a month. But during that month you build a lot of experience toward achieving your dream of becoming a manager for a group, getting your hands almost within reach of that prized promotion.

And as for your Cinderella moment, you try to put it out of your mind, just as you’re sure Johnny’s done. Over a month has passed since the Halloween party, and you doubt he even remembers the Cinderella he spent the night talking to. Even if he does remember, you feel that any chance has long since passed for you to find him and tell him it was you.

On your first day back within the building, you’ve barely made it inside before Jiwon finds you.

You hear her slippers slapping against the ground as she runs toward you, and then she loops her arm through yours in a vice. “Come with me. We need to talk,” she whispers conspiratorially, dragging you into the elevator with her.

“I didn’t want to tell you this while you were away dealing with everything, but,” she says excitedly in a hushed voice so no one overhears, “As your self-designated fairy godmother, I thought I should definitely give you a little heads up. Johnny’s been looking for Cinderella.”

Your heart thuds in your chest. “What?”

“Everyone’s heard him asking around casually about who’d been Cinderella that night, but you sneaky thing!” She pinches your side. “How did you manage to go the whole night without telling anyone who you were?”

Had you? You’d definitely talked with several other staff members at the start of the night, including your supervisor. At least one of them must have recognized you, right? But looking back now, maybe you hadn’t talked in particular about anything that would have given away who you were, and you don’t remember any of them calling you by name or even acknowledging that you were in their department.

You’re still trying to wrap your head around it when the elevator doors open, and Jiwon walks out, still arm-in-arm with you.

“Look, it’s even a company-wide kind of meme.” She points at a bulletin board nearby where normally notices about events and deadlines and everything are hung. But now there’s also a sheet of paper with the word WANTED at the top, a badly pixellated image of the Disney version of Cinderella beneath that, and below that LAST SEEN: SM HALLOWEEN PARTY. In tiny font beneath contact NCT Johnny if you have any information.

“What the hell?” You look around to see if anyone else is looking, and then you step forward and tear it off the bulletin board. “What are people thinking? What if this shows up in the background of a video?” Idols pass through here semi-frequently with cameras on them for one reason or another. You can only imagine the chaos of fans reacting to such a notice as this Cinderella one.

Jiwon laughs as you crumple the sheet up and toss it in a nearby trashcan. “At this point, everyone’s started assuming Cinderella was just a random party-crasher or a ghost since she hasn’t come forward.” She pats your shoulder comfortingly. “One of the aespa girls almost confessed to him that it was her.”

A flare of jealous heat sparks to life in your belly. “Well, it definitely wasn’t!”

“Of course not! She was dressed like a princess too, but not anything remotely Cinderella-esque.” Someone walks into the elevator area, so Jiwon drops her voice to a whisper once more as she tries to urge you, “You should go tell him that you’re his Cinderella! It would be so cute!”

“Are you kidding?” You hiss, glancing over at the man waiting for an elevator. “Look at me, Jiwon. He’d take one look and laugh that I couldn’t possibly be Cinderella. I don’t look anything like I did that night.” You gesture at the very casual outfit you’re wearing, your drastically less made-up face, and just everything about you. You’d truly experienced some kind of magical transformation that night courtesy of the woman beside you. “I couldn’t tell him. Plus, it’s been over a month. Is he really still looking for Cinderella? I’d have given up by this point, like you said, just thinking it was a random party-crasher or something. Plus, if this is like an actual Cinderella moment, it’s not like anything romantic can happen between him and I. It’s against policy.”

Jiwon shakes her head, disappointed. “You’re such a party pooper, darling. And, you’re right, this isn’t a fairytale, okay? I get that. It’s real life and there’s actual consequences, so I won’t blame you if you don’t tell him. But come on, the risk is well worth the reward here, I would think. This job or Johnny? The choice is obvious to me.”

Maybe once you would have agreed. Choosing the literal man of your dreams (because Johnny has been showing up in your dreams with some amount of frequency ever since Halloween) would have been an easy choice before you’d actually landed a position in SM Entertainment. Even then, it wouldn’t have been a crazy choice in your mind. But more recently things have changed.

“They’re promoting me.” You shake Jiwon loose so you can face her properly. “That’s what the whole point of me being overseas for the last month was. Training me up, seeing if I had the potential to really be a manager. And that’s my dream job, you know. I don’t think the risk is worth the reward in this case. But damn,” you sigh, catching sight of a screen showing a clip from one of NCT’s music videos, Johnny’s face filling the screen. “I wish it was possible.”

To give up your dream job just for the possibility of a romance with an idol seemed far-fetched and stupid.

So you ignore the Cinderella search. It’s not like you ever even see Johnny, so it’s not a problem at all.

Until the day comes when you officially receive your promotion.

“You’re being promoted,” your supervisor tells you, “NCT needs a new manager, and you’re best qualified for the job.”

Your stomach feels like it drops to the floor. “What?”

You’d been expecting that you were going to get to help manage a new group, or at least maybe aespa. You didn’t think they’d throw you to the wolves that was the confusing mess of NCT’s schedules. So it was a nightmare wrapped in a thin layer of a dream, and right at the heart of it all was Johnny Suh.

You were so nervous on your first day as a manager (because of course, you couldn’t manage one of the other units, you had to be assigned to 127) that Johnny would recognize you on the spot, call you out on being Cinderella, and make a scene. But you were equally as nervous that he wouldn’t recognize you at all.

The latter turned out to be the truer though not entirely accurate.

When you were introduced to the members, Johnny gave you a kind smile, and then said, “Hey, I recognize you.”

Your heart stopped and then started beating at what felt like double-time. “You do?”

He nods. “Yeah, you’ve worked with us before, right?”

Ah. Your heart rate slows back to normal. “Yeah, yes, I have. Just a few times.”

Then he repeats your name back to you as if making sure that he’s got it right, and an hour later you’re still thinking about the way that your name sounds from his lips.

That feeling doesn’t pass, not for a while.

Slowly you grow more comfortable and relaxed in your role a manager for the group. You get used to the stunning presence of the handsome men. You get used to the sound of Johnny’s voice and his laugh. You get used to driving the members around, shuttling them to and from schedules, getting them what they need, managing them and managing your feelings.

And best of all, you never hear Johnny mention Halloween or Cinderella, which makes it much easier to put it all from your mind. Well, somewhat easier. Jiwon refuses to let you forget; she calls herself your fairy godmother all the time, calls you princess, teases you when you mention stories that involve Johnny, which is most of them because within several weeks of you becoming a manager for the unit, you and Johnny have actually grown quite close.

“Oh, come on!” Jiwon exclaims one evening as she stretches out on your bed. “I’m tired of all of these cute, funny stories about Johnny! I want gushy romantic, hot stories.” She rolls over onto her stomach and looks at you. “God, let me tell you, one time when I was doing their makeup the stylist had to make an alteration on his pants, and that man whipped off his pants with no shame and stood there in his underwear for me to do his makeup. Babe, I know you’re already mentally going through hoops to avoid thinking about him, but trust me that you would reconsider if you had seen his--”

You slap your hand over her mouth. “Don’t.”

“No need to sound so pained about it.” She pushes your hand away. “I don’t know why you’re fighting this so hard. Yeah, you’re a manager, but you and him are fully grown adults. This is a stupid policy because from the stories you’ve told me, if you and Johnny were just alone for like an hour together, you would probably end up together.”

You roll your eyes. There have been times you’ve been alone with Johnny, driving him to or from a schedule. It wasn’t like there was undeniable sexual tension in that van or anything like that. And even if Jiwon means totally alone in a non-mobile setting, you doubt anything like that would happen, but you’ve never yet had the chance to find out.

When the first winter storm hits, you’re driving Taeyong back to the dorm from a solo schedule he’d had that had run long. It’s very late. Taeyong dozes in the passenger seat, you’re yawning every other minute, and as you enter the city limits you realize that it’s starting to snow large, fluffy flakes that are coating everything they touch.

The city��s been extremely cold lately, so you’re not surprised that the snow isn’t melting, just piling up, making it hard to see at times.

By the time you reach the dorm, the roads are slushy and slick. Snow blows across the streets in waves.

Taeyong’s schedule had been a three-day event, so he has a few items to unload, and due to the sharp cold breeze and how deep asleep he’d been just moment before, you help Taeyong unload and carry his belongings up to the dorm. Your shoes squeak on the floor, and by the time you reach the door of the dorm, you’re both still shivering.

The door opens with a chime, and as you come inside, you see Johnny’s sitting at the kitchen table playing on his phone and eating cereal. Taeyong mumbles something, toes off his shoes, drops his bags, and just stumbles off to bed, too sleepy to even do anything else.

Johnny’s watching you as you let out a big yawn and sit what you’d been carrying down beside the rest.

You run your fingers over your hair, brushing away the last snowflakes that cling somewhat intact to your hair. “It’s snowing pretty good out there. I haven’t seen snow like this in years.”

Johnny glances over at the large window of their living room. The puffs of snow float by, lit up by all the city lights, and he stands up, walking over to press his face to the glass, looking down at the street below and the rooftops around their building. Everything’s already covered in a pretty decent amount of snow.

“It’s beautiful out there.” Johnny is pressed to the glass, looking out at everything.

Before you can register what’s happening (it is very late and you’re half-asleep on your feet, so excuse you if you’re a little slow at the moment), Johnny’s walking back past you, grabbing his coat from the back of a chair with one hand, and taking your hand with the other. He guides you along by the hand down through the building, out into the falling snow.

“What are we doing?” You ask, folding your arms around yourself as Johnny releases your hand once you’re outside. Shock at the situation kept you silent until then. “You shouldn’t be out here. You’ll catch a cold.”

Johnny laughs. “I’ll be fine. Come take my picture.” He walks out into the snow-covered street, tilting his head back to the sky, arms held out. The streetlight just down the road casts Johnny and the snow in a silver light, and he’s so beautiful in that moment that you’d be crazy not to take a photo, so you pull out your phone and start taking pictures of him.

This photoshoot goes on for several minutes before you pause to check a photo you just took, and for your efforts of trying to be a good photographer, you get a snowball right to the shoulder. Johnny’s laugh is loud in the muted silence of the falling snow, and he only laughs louder when you shove your phone into your jacket pocket and duck down to form a snowball of your own.

The snow fight lasts until you’re both pink-cheeked, sniffling in the cold air, and neither of you can feel your fingertips anymore.

“I’m t-too cold to keep this g-going.” Johnny laughs and shivers, tucking his hands into his armpits as he walks toward you.

“I - I should get going anyway.” Your teeth chatter together. “I still need to get home, and it’s late.”

“Come up for c-coffee,” Johnny suggests, his eyes lingering on you and the snow caught in your hair, wreathing your face. “You’re clearly tired and cold. You need some coffee.”

Damn your heart and Johnny’s good intentions. You follow him back up to the dorm, and while you shuck off your coat and wet shoes and damp socks, Johnny starts making you both some coffee. And minutes later, you’re still shivering as you clasp a warm mug between both of your hands, sitting next to Johnny while he swipes through your camera roll to check out the photos of him you’d just taken.

You know that you should leave. It’s not appropriate for you to just be hanging out at the dorm. You should put your coat and shoes back on, take the coffee to go, and head home so you can get some sleep before you have to work tomorrow. Just as you’re about to say something along those lines, your phone buzzes against the table and Johnny makes a soft, oh.

“What?” You lean closer, sitting the mug down on the table.

“It’s a weather alert.” Johnny looks up at you, and for a moment neither of you speak or move or breathe. You’re so close together right now. You can see all of the little water droplets stubbornly clinging to his eyelashes from the snow. You can smell the coffee on his breath and something a little sweet too. But then Johnny snaps his mouth closed and leans back a little, just putting some distance between you and him.

He clears his throat, then says, “It says the roads are really bad, that it’s just going to get worse. You should probably just stay here tonight, and I feel like you’re going to argue with that, but honestly, it’s for your own safety. Roads are dangerous, plus you’re already cold and tired. That’s a bad combination. You’re just going to have to be back here in a few hours to pick us up anyway since hyung is gone.”

You’d forgotten about that. The manager that normally stays at the dorm with them is gone for the week. That’s why you had to be the one to take Taeyong to his solo schedule, and why you were going to have to be up earlier than normal for work tomorrow. Maybe Johnny has a good point.

Johnny looks away from you, back down at your phone, and he swipes away the notification, then makes a little frown.

You look down as well, and there you see that your phone has gone back to the screen showing all of your photos, and there, just barely visible at the top of the screen, is a photo you’d taken of yourself in the Cinderella costume on the night of the Halloween party.

Johnny inhales and the silence as you wait for his exhale seems to last an eternity.

“You were--”

You push back from the table, already reaching to pull your shoes back onto your feet, forgetting entirely about your wet socks. “I’d really better leave.”

You’re halfway to the door, hopping on one foot, struggling to get your second foot into it’s boot, when Johnny loops his hand at your elbow, helping to steady you as you’d nearly just tipped over onto your face.

“Please don’t leave.” He pleads.

You look up at him. Your foot thumps heavily down onto the ground. “Johnny.... please. I shouldn’t stay here, I could get in trouble with the company.”

His eyes are softer than you’ve ever seen them before. “Please stay. It’s dangerous out there, I’ve said that already. If anyone has a problem with you staying here overnight for your own safety, then I’ll vouch for you. I’ll make the others vouch too.” His hand slides from your elbow down to your wrist, holding loosely now that you don’t seem to be in such a rush to leave. A slow, crooked smile appears on his lips. “And anyway, Cinderella, you’re supposed to leave a shoe behind, not your wet socks.”

You roll your eyes, but you smile as well. “I didn’t want to tell you.”

“That you’re the Cinderella I’ve been looking for for months now?” Johnny’s hand slips even lower on your wrist until his fingers are just clasping your hand. “Why didn’t you want to tell me? I had so much fun talking with you that night, and after we left I realized I hadn’t even found out who you were.”

You shiver now that your feet are back inside your wet shoes.

Johnny clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Take your shoes off. You’re staying. Go on. Sit right there.” He points at the chair beside the table. “I’ll be right back. Don’t you dare leave.”

His voice is so commanding, you wouldn’t dare leave now. He walks out of the kitchen, and when he returns a moment later, he’s carrying a change of clothes for you from his own closet.

“I know it’s your job to worry about us,” he says, holding out the clothes to you. “But please let me take care of you too. Don’t catch a cold. You can go shower in the bathroom off my room, put these on. You’re staying here tonight.”

You nod, accepting the sweater and slick basketball shorts.

When you emerge from the shower several minutes later, feeling much more thoroughly warmed, the lights in the dorm have all been turned off, but Johnny’s sitting on the sofa now with his phone lighting up his face. It’s very, very late. He looks as if he could nod off right there, but as you walk closer to him, he blinks up at you. A smile breaks across his otherwise sleepy expression.

“What?” You ask, sinking down onto the sofa with him. There’s a blanket draped over the back, and Johnny immediately pulls it down over your shoulders. You clasp the edges of it together in front of you. “Why are you smiling like that? Are you feeling feverish or something?” You lift a hand and immediately check his forehead with the back of your hand, but he doesn’t feel warm.

Johnny, still smiling, reaches up to lightly bat away your hand as he sighs and rests his head against the cushiony back of the sofa, staring at you. “No, like.... It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

“You gave them to me.” You reply, amused at the dopey look on his face.

“I know.” Johnny whispers. “You just look really good in them.”

Your heart flutters in the way that you know you shouldn’t let it. This is Johnny. You’re his manager. This is inappropriate to be feeling this way about him. It’s definitely inappropriate to be sitting on a sofa in the dark with him, wearing his clothes, having just showered in his shower using his shampoo and body wash. But it feels good.

You lean your head against the sofa’s back too, draw your knees up toward your chest, and you look right back at Johnny in the same way he’s looking at you. You whisper, “You should go to bed. We all have to be up in a few hours.”

He bites his bottom lip and then stretches out a risky hand to touch yours. When you don’t pull away or tell him not to, Johnny keeps going, turning your hand over, pulling it into his lap. He touches your palm, caresses your fingers, treating you like you’re fragile and delicate like a little princess.

“Johnny,” you whisper a few moments later when he’s still just holding your hand, making no effort to go to bed. “Go.”

“There’s so much snow out there.” He says after another few seconds. “There’s no way that we’ll still have our schedules tomorrow. By the time morning really comes, we’re going to be buried in. I was looking at the weather while you were showering, and it’s not showing any sign of stopping before at least tomorrow night.”

“Banking on your schedule being cancelled doesn’t mean you don’t have to go to bed.” Your hand shakes slightly as you lift it, trembling with the risky nature of what you do next. Johnny’s hair is soft and his face is pleasantly warm as you push a few loose strands away from his face.

Johnny exhales at the feel of your fingertips just barely brushing his skin. “Come to bed with me. Haechan’s not here. He’s upstairs tonight.”

You noticed that as you crept into Johnny’s room to use that bathroom. Both of the beds were empty.

It’s tempting to give in, to follow him into that bedroom and let the door close behind you as you get into bed with him. You’re sure that sharing a bed with Johnny would be very warm and comforting in this snowy cold night. But you can’t.

“Johnny.” Your voice trembles ever so slightly. “I can’t. I’m your manager, and it just.... I could get in trouble.”

“You’re still shivering from the cold,” he argues, “Basically hypothermic. I’m just trying to keep you healthy, trying to save you from freezing. No one would know but us. If the others ask questions, I’ll make excuses.” He smiles, and that almost does it for you.

You shake your head, close your eyes, turn your head away from him so you’re not faced with the temptation. “No. I’m serious. You should go to bed. I’ll stay right here. Just here.” You pat the sofa. “I’ll be comfy and this blanket’s warm.”

“Fine.” Johnny sighs, and he stands up, still holding your hand. “But don’t think that you can sneak out, Cinderella. Okay?”

You squeeze his hand lightly. “I’m not going anywhere, Johnny.”

He leans in so quickly that there’s no time for you to even protest before he’s pressing a kiss to your cheek. And then he’s gone, vanishing into his bedroom as you sit frozen on the sofa, looking after him.

It takes a long time to fall asleep after that. Just you lying there in the dark with the blanket tugged up to your chin, listening to all of the unfamiliar sounds of the dorm, watching the snow drift by outside the window, shivering in the chill air.

After nearly an hour of silence and cold and overthinking, you sit up, gather the blanket around your shoulders, and you tiptoe across the living room to the door of Johnny’s bedroom.

When you reach the door, you stand there in hesitation, your knuckles hovering just inches from the door. You’re being silly. Ridiculous. You’re putting the future of your career in jeopardy by just standing here before his doorway and contemplating going inside. You shift your weight uncertainly, drop your hand to your side, consider turning back and walking to the sofa, but before you can move, the door swings open and you’re faced with Johnny’s chest.

You lift your gaze slowly to his face.

“I could almost hear you thinking through the door,” he says with a smile, and then he steps aside, “Why don’t you come in?”

“It’s just cold out there,” you mumble as you step inside, pulling your blanket tighter around your shoulders. “I was going to ask if you had another blanket.”

Johnny hums in a way that tells you that he doesn’t buy your lie one bit. He closes the door behind him, his back braced against it as he faces you. “I can’t believe that all this time you’ve been my Cinderella.” He shakes his head, gaze wandering over the shadowy shape of you.

His room is dark but your eyes are adjusted just enough that you can see him fairly well in the faint light coming in through the window. So you can see as he pushes away from the door, as he steps toward you. Your body tingles in anticipation, your fingertips go numb so you curl them into fists in your blanket, and Johnny stops right in front of you.

“It’s well past midnight, Cinderella,” he whispers. “The ball is ended, the magic spell is worn off, and you’re still just as beautiful and fascinating and enchanting as you were that night.” His hands come up to the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, fingers tucking underneath. Your grip on the blanket loosens even as Johnny starts to move the blanket.

It falls away, pooling at your feet.

“Johnny.”

His thumb brushes along your jawline. Your body feels on fire, your fingers burn with the desire to touch him too. So you do, curling your fingers at his hips, his skin warm under yours, and Johnny takes a shuffling step just a bit closer to you, his bare toes bumping against yours.

“Johnny,” you repeat his name, lifting your chin to look him in the eye. “Kiss me?”

He doesn’t wait for you to ask him again. Johnny leans in and catches your lips in a kiss. His palm rests against the side of your neck, his thumb still stroking at your jaw. When you try to press closer, to deepen the kiss, Johnny backs away.

“Don’t stop,” you whine, clenching your hands at his sides.

Johnny chuckles, dipping forward to kiss your forehead. And then he kisses you again. He takes a step back, you follow, and another, and then he’s sinking down onto his bed, his hands moving to your hips to guide you to straddle his lap, not breaking the kiss as you do.

Making out with Johnny Suh is certainly not what you imagined you’d be doing tonight when you brought Taeyong home from his schedule, but here you are, sitting in his lap in his bed, his hands on your hips, and your mouth on his.

“Wait,” he mumbles, pulling back momentarily. “Let me put some music on or something.”

You don’t want to move from his lap, but you let him lean away, reaching back across his bed toward the pillows to grab his phone. He taps at the screen for a few moments, and then music—soft enough to not wake anyone but just loud enough to mask any sounds the two of you may make—begins to play over his Bluetooth speakers.

As Johnny sits back up, leaving his phone tucked beneath his pillow, you admire the sight of him. His abs. His chest. His arms.

You’ve seen Johnny shirtless before in dressing rooms, for photo shoots and video shoots. But seeing him like this, in the half light of his bedroom with the tingling reminder of his lips on yours, is a completely different experience.

Like a magnet, he finds you again. His mouth on yours, kiss unrestrained under the cover of the music, letting out tiny little moans as he kisses you. Each sound brings a smile to your lips, and after a few moments, you’re grinning into the kiss, twisting your fingers into his hair, and Johnny smiles as he fits his hands under your borrowed sweatshirt, his fingers chilly on your heated waist and belly.

His fingers shift higher and higher, and your breath hitches as he caressed your breast.

“Alright?” He murmurs, giving you a moment to answer while he kisses the corner of your mouth, skimming his lips over your jaw, down your throat.

You shiver, twisting your fingers a little more tightly in his hair, shifting just that much closer to him. You can feel every inch of him against you, your body burns and tingles, your heart racing in your chest.

“So good,” you moan softly, tugging lightly on his hair to bring his mouth back to yours.

Johnny smiles into the kiss, his thumb drifting attentively over your nipple. Slowly he eases backwards until he’s flat on his back and you lie against his chest, still just kissing him and yearning to feel his hands touching you everywhere, not just your breast. You shiver against him again, and Johnny is gentle as he rolls you under him, as he tugs the blankets up over your bodies.

“Still cold, Cinderella?” He teases, his nose bumping against your cheek.

You push a section of his hair back behind his ear, spend a few seconds lingering there, your thumb against his face. He’s so handsome, and you being here beneath him in his bed, it’s unreal. Like a dream. Like a fairytale Cinderella moment you never thought you’d have because he’s an SM Prince, and who are you? Hardly any better than a servant.

Johnny shifts to the side, looking down at you. “What are you thinking about? You’ve got that expression.” He lifts a finger and traces the furrow between your eyebrows.

“I’m just thinking how I don’t belong here.” You sigh, looking away to the window. Your hand is on his arm and you absentmindedly stroke over his sunflower tattoo, mirroring the movements of his thumb moving back and forth on your waist beneath the sweatshirt.

Johnny’s lips touch against your throat, pulling a sigh from your lips, to which he asks, “What do you mean you don’t belong here? And don’t tell me again that it’s because you’re a manager.”

But that’s exactly why.

“Stay here. With me.” Johnny withdraws his hand from beneath your sweatshirt. “If you feel like this is moving too fast, we can stop here. We can go to sleep. Just sleep.”

He moves back an inch or two, just as much as his narrow twin bed will allow, but you don’t want him to go far. You scoot closer again, still gripping his arm. Johnny smiles at that. You sink your head onto the pillow, look up at him. “I’ll stay.”

“Good.” Johnny brings his hand up, tracing his knuckles lightly along your cheek in a way that makes your heart pound and your toes and fingertips tingle in delight, in the need for reciprocation, to touch him and hold him too. But you bring your hands up to your chest, clench them into tight fists inside the sleeves of the sweater, will yourself to not touch him because if you do, you’re pretty sure you won’t be able to stop yourself from going further.

“You promise you won’t run away after I close my eyes?” Johnny asks.

“I promise.” You watch as Johnny stands up from the bed, and he hesitates then for a moment, looking down at you, his hands on his hips. You think, for a moment, that he’s about to tell you goodnight and sleep in Haechan’s bed instead. But he takes a deep breath, his thumbs tracing along the waistband of his sweatpants.

“So, normally, I do sleep in my underwear. I get hot at night, so it’s just a lot more comfortable for me.” He explains, glancing away as he admits this. You have a feeling that he might actually normally sleep naked, but given that you’ve both agreed to draw the line at making out and some light touching tonight, being naked in bed with you might be a bit more than you wanted.

You appreciate his unspoken question, a request for you to consent to him stripping to his underwear to sleep in bed with you. But it’s his bed, in his bedroom, in his apartment where you still feel you don’t entirely belong. You’re the intruder here. And besides--

“I like to sleep in my underwear too,” you tell him. “So it works out.”

Beneath the blanket, you shimmy easily out of the silky basketball shorts Johnny had lent you, and as you drop them out over the side of the bed, you watch Johnny swallow, his throat bobbing even as he smiles a little. You watch too as his thumbs tuck under the waistband of his pants, and then he’s pushing them down, kicking them off, slipping back into the narrow bed with you.

You keep the sweater on, but the bare skin of your legs, from toe to hip feel so free beneath the sheets, and when Johnny’s knee knocks into yours, you feel it from the point of contact all the way through your body. You’re hyper-aware of him, more than you’ve ever been with anyone else probably.

And then you lift your leg a little, draping it over one of his so your knee rests between both of his. You prop yourself on your side a bit, a hand tucked under the pillow. Johnny faces you too.

“Goodnight, Cinderella,” he whispers.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

You don’t remember falling asleep. One moment you were listening to the music softly playing still from the speakers, to the even sound of Johnny breathing. And then you’re woken by the sound of your phone ringing while the sky outside is still a dim shade of gray.

Your phone’s in the pocket of the shorts on the floor, so you fumble around for a moment before finally fishing them out of the pocket. You stab at the button to answer the call, squinting against the brightness of the screen.

“Hello?” You mumble into the phone.

Johnny shifts beside you, his hand sliding over your belly where the sweatshirt has ridden up through the night. His thumb touches the lacy edge of your panties. You close your eyes and focus on breathing, on listening to whoever’s interrupted your sweet sleep so early in the morning.

“I’ve got some good news.” It’s your boss, the one who makes all of the big calls. “Schedules are cancelled for the day, that’s the official news. The city’s snowed in, so you can stay home today.”

You can’t believe Johnny was right about that. You’ve never had a day where you heard of their schedules being cancelled because of the weather like this, but you accept it, thank him for calling to let you know, and when you end the call, you lie there in the silent darkness of the bedroom.

At some point in the night, the music has ended. It must be very early, with the sky still so dark outside the window, but even in the half-light you can still see snowflakes drifting by.

Johnny’s fingers twitch on your belly, his pinky finger stroking along the top edge of your panties. You turn your head to look at him.

His eyes are still closed, but you can tell that he’s awake.

“Who was that?” He asks after a few moments, his voice soft and rough at the same time, drenched with sleep.

“You were right. The day’s schedules are cancelled.” You lay your hand over his. You’re half-tempted to move it just because it’s driving you to distraction, but at the same time you don’t want him to stop touching you like this.

“Mm, perfect.” Johnny opens one eye to look at you. “Now we can just sleep for the rest of the morning. Stay in bed.”

You want that. There’s nothing you want more right now than to stay here in bed with Johnny. “I should probably go let the other boys know. Tell them to turn off their alarms. To stay inside today where it’s warm.”

The tip of his pinky makes it just beneath the edge of your panties. Your nipples are hard, and you’re glad you’re wearing the sweatshirt so he can’t tell how just this tiny touch is affecting you so greatly. But it’s something in the way he’s looking at you right then--his bottom lip caught beneath his teeth, his eyes on your parted lips--that tells you that somehow he already knows how aroused you are.

You almost close your thighs, squeeze your legs together to do something about that burning need rising between your legs. But your one leg is still draped over Johnny’s, your calf against his. And when you move it just a little, the friction of your skin against his has Johnny breathing more deeply.

There’s a buzz running under your skin, zipping through your veins, and in the moment you forget everything else but that feeling and Johnny making you feel it.

Your hand covers his on your belly, and you apply just the lightest amount of pressure. His fingers slide so eagerly into your panties.

His breath sounds unsteady, and you’re sure yours does too.

“I’m gonna be so honest right now,” he tells you, his voice barely more than a breath. “I’m so hard, baby. The second you made that little whimper, shit, I felt lightheaded.” You don’t know what whimper he’s talking about, but you don’t care. His fingertips are edging lower and lower inside your panties and in a second he’ll be touching your clit and that’s all you want right now. You almost buck up into his touch.

You grip his wrist before he can, and Johnny freezes. “We don’t have any music,” you tell him.

Johnny smiles. “Guess you’ll just have to try to keep quiet then, won’t you?”

“Guess you should kiss me again then.” You reply, and Johnny’s only too pleased to satisfy that request.

The moment his mouth is on yours, he’s dipping his fingers lower, his middle finger touching your clit, and he gasps lightly as he feels the heat of your wetness coating his fingers. You can’t believe you’re doing this with Johnny.

He rolls closer, and as he does you can feel his erection against your thigh.

“You want me to finger you, baby?” His words flow over your lips, swallowed right down by your eagerness. You nod. “I want to hear you say it.”

A new wave of heat bursts in your belly at Johnny’s dominant tone. “I want your fingers, Johnny.”

He smiles as he kisses you now, pressing his long middle finger inside you in a way that would have you loudly gasping except for his mouth sealed over yours. Johnny curls his finger just right, his palm smoothly moving against your clit as he thrusts his finger inside you, soon adding a second then a third.

You’re openly panting and moaning into his mouth as he fucks you on his fingers. His other arm is wrapped around your back, bracing you against him as he works you quickly toward an orgasm. His erection is against your thigh, and occasionally you notice him grinding against you, thrusting forward to help with what he needs. But most of his attention is on you, making you feel good.

It’s still some time before dawn when Johnny brings you tumbling over the edge of your climax. Your thighs close around his arm, his fingers still pumping inside you, and you bite his tongue as you cum, and that just makes him moan.

You’re still shaking from the ecstasy when you break the kiss to drop your head to his shoulder, your breath coming out in shaky puffs.

Johnny kisses your forehead, his damp fingers pull out, slipping out of your panties to rest against your thigh, the other hand strokes your lower back, a relaxing weight keeping you resting against him. You try to move a hand down, wanting to touch him too, but Johnny makes a noise.

“You don’t have to.” His damp fingers close around your wrist. “I’m fine.”

“You’re still hard.” You raise your knee a little so your thigh brushes against where his dick is still full in his underwear.

His eyes flutter for a moment, his hips grinding forward.

You lift a hand to touch his hair, tugging lightly to bring his lips to yours as you tilt your head back. “Let me make you feel good, too, Johnny.”

Johnny slides his body over yours smoothly, his body bracketed perfectly by your thighs. You tangle your arms behind his neck, kissing him like your life depends on it as he grinds against you through your panties.

You can feel him very clearly now. Every inch of him. You wish he was inside you, stretching you wide open, filling you deeply with his length. You kiss him and trace all of those desires against his tongue. Your heart pounds with that desire, breath racing and your nails rake down his back as he picks a good rhythm. You’re going to cum again, you already know it.

“Fuck,” Johnny mumbles into the kiss. “I wish I could cum inside you.”

“Then fuck me.” You gasp back. “Where are condoms?”

His lips slide from yours, over your jaw to your throat. He groans. “In the drawer over there.” But you can tell from the tightness in his voice, from the broken staccato beat of his movements that he’s close, that he probably won’t be able to hold back much longer. Why wait? Why risk putting a pause on this if it might just ruin his orgasm?

You shake your head, tangle your fingers in his hair, guide his lips back to yours. Next time. He can fuck you next time. Right now you just want him to cum; you want him to get you to cum a second time.

A hoarse groan builds in the back of his throat, and Johnny thrusts one last time before he freezes, his cock twitching in his underwear, right against you. You can feel the wet heat of him spreading through the material right against you, and you buck your hips up, chasing your own orgasm even if it means grinding against Johnny’s sensitive cock as he comes down from his high.

Johnny’s mouth feels so soft against yours when you kiss this time as your orgasm crashes through you. Lazy kisses, bodies intertwined. Johnny doesn’t move from between your thighs, just holding himself above you, kissing you slowly and softly.

Morning is breaking outside, though with the heavy winter weather, there’s not too much of a difference visually.

Eventually Johnny moves away, his hand slides up under your sweatshirt, just touching your bare skin as you both tuck yourself against each other and catch your breath.

It’s still early. You could roll over to fall back asleep, but even as you consider that, you know it’s too late, you’re already wide awake. Johnny knows it too, so after a handful of moments, he kisses you and then sits up.

“I’m going to shower.” He stands out of bed, tugging uncomfortably at his underwear. You can see the damp spot spread over the front of them, and you hide your smile in his pillow. You made him cum in his pants. It’s cute. You close your eyes and replay that moment, Johnny pressed against your like that, the way he’d moved, the way he’d sounded as he came.

When you open your eyes again, he’s gone. The bathroom door is closed, only a thin sliver of light beneath it and the gentle patter of the shower turning on indicating that Johnny’s behind it.

The dorm is still thick with the sound of sleep, so you’re quiet as you redress and creep out of Johnny’s room. You stand to look out the window in the living room. The world outside is covered in thick snow that continues to fall. Your breath fogs the glass.

Taeyong’s the first one up, stumbling out of his room in just shorts and a tshirt, shivering as he walks into the kitchen. He pours himself a glass of water, and when he turns around, he spots you and nearly drops the glass. He swears viciously before realizing it’s you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He covers his mouth. “Did you stay here last night?”

You nod. “The weather got worse and I was really tired, so Johnny insisted that I stay.” Taeyong makes a face that you can’t quite decipher before he hides it. “Your schedules are cancelled for the day, by the way. We’re snowed in.”

Taeyong nods. “In that case, I’m going back to bed.” He disappears back into his bedroom, and once more the dorm falls silent.

A shiver works its way down your spine as you yawn. You’re so tired, but you know you can’t go back to sleep, so you go make yourself a strong cup of coffee, watch the snow and think. You think about how what you did with Johnny was a mistake--it was great and you loved it and you can’t truly bring yourself to regret it, but it was a mistake nonetheless because if it gets out, if this becomes serious or ends badly, then it will reflect horribly on your career, and all of your dreams will be flushed away.

You want Johnny. You love the way he makes you feel. But you know that you shouldn’t indulge.

And for the next several minutes you sway back and forth on that dangerous line of thought--you want him, but you shouldn’t want him. Maybe you should just leave today, go home, and the next time you see him pretend that the events of last night and this morning never happened. Maybe he’ll forget you’re the Cinderella he spent months searching for.; maybe that was all just a fun game for him anyway, and he’ll lose interest now that he’s found you.

By the time the coffee finishes brewing, you hear the sound of movement in Johnny’s room as he leaves the shower. You pour yourself a mug, another one for him, and then you knock carefully (to not spill the coffees) on his door before opening it.

Johnny’s sitting in bed again, but when he sees you, he sits up and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Feel better?” you ask him, standing there beside his bed as you offer him one of the coffees. He nods and sips at his coffee, and you look over at the window again, at the steadily falling snow. "I guess I still need to figure out some way to get home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Johnny murmurs into his coffee. “You can stay here. Stay right here.” He lifts his face out of his mug just long enough to grab your hand and pull you down to sit on his bed. He doesn’t let go of your hand.

You say his name in a warning tone, but it just makes him smile.

“What?” His thumb rubs gently over your knuckles. “Cinderella kept running away from the Prince because she was scared of her stepmother and stepsisters, right? Well, the Prince found her and they lived happily ever after. I like you. I liked you before I knew you were my Cinderella from Halloween. Finding that out last night or this morning or whatever, that’s just a bonus. I like you in case what we did earlier didn’t make that obvious, and if you like me too, well we can find a way to be together even if our wicked company tries their best to keep it from happening.”

You feel very warm all of a sudden, possibly its the coffee or the bulky sweater Johnny had let you borrow, or it could very well be that he’s confessing to you. Confessing in such a cheesy manner, too. He has feelings for you. For you, not for the Cinderella fantasy version of you.

You push the sleeves of the sweater up your arms, trying to cool down some.

“Johnny.” You know that nothing good can come of what he’s suggesting.

“Don’t say my name like that,” he says softly. “Don’t say it like it’s a no. Don’t say it like you want me but you can’t. We already started down this path, so don’t turn your back on this, please. Say my name like you agree with me, like you like me too.”

“Johnny.” This time you put your longing for him behind those two syllables. You try your best to make it sound like a yes.

You want Johnny. You want this to work. And if he believes in it, then you want to too. But you won’t let this affect your dream. You’ll have Johnny and you’ll have your dream job too. You can figure it out as you go.

Johnny grins. “Yeah, that sounds much better.” He takes a drink of his coffee again, watching you over the lip of the mug, then says, “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

“Coffee is hardly breakfast, Johnny. Please tell me that you know that.” You groan, prying the coffee mug out of his hands.

He shrugs and grins, watching as you sit his mug and your own on his bedside table. And then he reaches for you, pulling you into his lap so you’re face-to-face. Johnny kisses you slowly, deeply, and when he pulls away, he murmurs, “All I know for now is that you’re my mysterious Cinderella, you’re wearing my sweater, I can still smell you in my sheets, and we have no plans for the rest of the day. If you’d like, I’d love to make you cum again.”

Oh God, you think to yourself, what have you gotten yourself into?

a/n: so months and months ago back when I was accepting requests based off a prompt list, someone sent me a prompt for Johnny to use both “No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.” and “I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.” and thus this was born

I wouldn’t have taken so long to write this, and I’m really really sorry to the original requester (especially since I know I’ve messaged them and let them know it would take a while, but damn I don’t think either of us thought it would take this long, and I checked and they haven’t been active on their blog in a while, so now I feel bad) but I got distracted with writing the next part of the poly series (which was Adore You) and then forgot about this for a brief time, and then once I remembered I was deep into working on the poly finale, so I had to focus on it. But now I’ve finished that! And I’ve finished this too, so if the original requester is still around and sees this then I’m sorry it took so long please forgive me! I would tag them, but I’m not entirely sure if they wanted to be tagged in this or not!

#johnny smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #johnny suh smut #johnny fanfic #damn remember way back in the day when I could write and post something that was under 10k?#when was the last time I did that and didn't call it just a drabble?

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wizkiddx · 4 years ago

Text

your voice

angsty vibe, requested by @hollandlover19 than you for th rq and hop this doesn't disappoint too much :)))

summary: tom says something so stupid and has to deal with the consquences

warnings: a bit angsty, but ends in fluff! argumnts and raising voices, I guess could be associated with panic attacks tho not written with that intention

//////////////////////////////////

“Oh, Y/n er sorry.” Harrisons morning dulcet tones were what you were awoken to with a groan.

Everything was achy, and your head was pounding, making you grumble in discontent as you shifted uncomfortably on the technically too-small-to-sleep-on sofa.

This was not the morning you’d foreseen even 12 hours ago.

Lockdown had been difficult for everyone, even removing the tragic health crisis. Being locked in with your boyfriend and his brothers and friends was, for the most part, amazing. Lots of laughs, lots of beers and lots of quality time that you usually didn’t get. But it was also intense.

Without a doubt, since you first got together, this was the longest time you’d ever had with Tom. And it had been brilliant, your relationship getting so much closer and just learning the subtlest intricacies about the other. In fact, when lockdown had been announced, you’d never lived together (the most a week-long holiday).

Though it was also like a pressure cooker, Toms rented house. When one of you were in an understandable but stubborn lousy mood, it affected the whole house.

Yesterday night had been the perfect storm. The weather was unbelievably scorching; your work had announced that they had to let some staff go because of the financial implications of the pandemic; a ‘mole’ had released personal details of your relationship.

And it was like a pot on the stove; everything went from controllable to violently boiling over in a matter of minutes.

Honestly, you didn’t even know why you had started arguing - it was that pathetic. And yet you’d both said pretty horrible stuff - though it was Tom who had crossed the line. Frankly, the way he’d spoken to you was almost unforgivable.

You’d both known instantly too, all his anger at you had immediately evaporated when he’d realised what he had said. It took no time for him to become a grovelling apologetic mess, however even that- it was already too late.

It might sound feeble, but honestly, you’d run and locked yourself in the downstairs loo. You’d cried on the inside- whilst from the other side of the door, he had been begging and pleading with you.

After an hour though, Tom finally gave up - hence why you’d had a pretty uncomfortable night on the sofa.

This brings it back to Harrison, the early riser of the house, barrelling into the living room after his morning run. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, except also slightly terrified looking as he stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“I’m up now” You sighed, dragging yourself into a sitting position on the sofa whilst massaging your crooked neck.

“You er…. you fell asleep watching the TV?” Rolling your eyes, you sighed at the blonde, even if his poor acting was a little entertaining.

“Are we both pretending that you don’t know what went down last night?” Of course, Harrison knew. The walls were thin, you’d been screaming and he was Tom’s best friend. No doubt, Tom had immediately gone to him for help and advice last night.

Harrison held his hands up in response, caught in the act, and clicked his tongue. “What he said was bad. You shouldn’t be the one ending up with the sore back.” He wasn’t wrong.

“And yet here I am…” With a sigh you smiled which he returned with a sickeningly empathetic one “Anyway, don’t let my sad self get in the way, did you come in here for anything?”

Now, because Harrison was mentally a five year old, that’s how you ended up sat crossed-legged on the floor, clutching a wii remote and angrily shouting at yoshi on the mariokart screen. The whole household was competitive as hell and you were no exception - so some rouge elbows were flying when he viciously knocked you off the track.

Slowly Harry and Tuwaine filtered in and picked up remotes too, so the quiet morning was very quickly switched into a tense atmosphere of yelps and shouts. None more so than Tuwaine, who was possibly the worst looser you had ever met.

Really, you knew all the boys were only doing this as there way of showing you they were with you. That they also thought Tom was a massive raging dickhead. And you appreciated it more than they would ever know. Locked down in Toms house, very much not mutual ground, having three stupid boys behind you meant everything.

Just as you got on to the 18th and final race of the house’s mario grand prix, another voice cut across the tense silence as you waited for the coutdown to turn into ‘go’. Naturally, you flipped round to see Tom, looking as though he literally just rolled out of bed with puffy eyes and messy hair and no top. The sight made your heart flutter, to the point you had to consciously check yourself - refusing to smile softly at him like you usually would, instead narrowing your eyebrows and looking back at the TV.

Tom had so desperately hoped that when he came down this morning, everything would be better. That all it’d take would be a quiet conversation for the two of you to make up - for him to have you in his arms again. Primarily as he had heard your excited laugh echoing through the halls in reactions to Tuwaines yelps of protests - it made him hopeful. Waking up to a cold and empty bed was almost soul-crushing this morning. He did not want it to ever happen again.

Which is why his heart sank so much when all you gave him was a scolding look, before turning your attention to the TV. Admittedly, he was naive to think that what he’d done last night would be an easy fix - he knew it too. So with dropping shoulders, Tom silently took a seat on the sofa, watching from afar. You spent the rest of the race more absent, not joining in with the Harrison or Harrys trash-talking, acutely aware of Tom’s eyes burning the back of your head.

Then came Harry’s celebrations as the overall winner (only just) and when Harrison suggested another game Tom piped up again.

“Give me a turn Harry.”

The three boys kneeling next to you all stiffened, looking immediately to you for what seemed like consent - as if they were engaging with the enemy. (At least it was good to know everyone was on your side).

“I’m gonna go prepare for my meeting anyway.” You spoke quietly, already placing the remote on the floor and standing up.

“Y/n I don’t mind swappin-“

“No. Thanks, H but no.” You weren’t being selfless and giving Tom a turn. You were running away from seeing him.

And Harrison was still really angry at Tom. He’d been so selfish and insensitive and had hurt you- someone who Haz also cared a lot about too. Yes Tom was his bestmate, that he’d grown up with and known for years - but Haz really liked you too, in fact all the boys did. So they were almost as pissed with Tom as you were.

So while you threw the cushion you were sat on back on the floor, Harrison shot Tom the filthiest look and practically shooed him away.

“come on Y/n … just one more? Then you can do your boring work.” You were about to refuse when Haz tilted his head toward the door, only then noticing that Tom had slipped out the room. Now that he was gone ,yes, just one more wouldn’t hurt. The meeting prep wasn’t time pressured; it was an excuse for an escape.

Tuwaine whooped a little when you nodded, planting back down and ready for the first race. Yet apart from that, the room was still a little awkward, you being the first to break the silence.

“Actually Haz, would you mind giving me a lift today?”

“What to the shops?

“Um no not quite.” Tuwaine laughed in his usual innocent and infectious style before asking more.

“Seriously? You know we’re locked down? Boris won’t be happy if you going mad and leaving the house.”

“Just to Y/f/n’s. She lives on her own so it’s legal.”

“She lives just down the road right? Can’t you walk?” Harry was confused, making him look away from the screen, ultimately leading to his ‘diddykong’ falling off the track.

“I’ll have my bags. I um… I think I’m going to stay with her till lockdown eases more.”

As soon as you said that, Harry pressed pause on the race, all three boys looking at you mouth-opened.

“For real?”

“Yeh I um… think me and Tom need some time apart and being locked in isn’t helping.”

“I’m not saying to forgive and forget what he said… but he is really sorry.”

“The twats literally kicking himself.” Tuwaine added, making you smile a little for calling Tom that.

“I know just… I need some space and-“

“Are you breaking up?” Harry almost announced, cutting you off. He would miss you too.

“No! Nono I … well I don’t know. I just- we both need this.”

The boys all nodded, looking at the floor for a moment before Harrison’s blue eyes were back on you.

“Course I’ll drive, but… but I’ll miss you.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You’d left merely an hour later, whilst Tom was holed up in the garden doing what looked like an almost unbearable work out. It meant he was also out your hair and you could throw all your stuff into two suitcases without him being any the wiser. It was probably pretty cowardly to leave without speaking to him, but you couldn’t. It would hurt too much and you didn’t want to break down in front of him. No doubt as soon as you had got to Y/f/n you did - into a blubbering mess of tears - but Tom hadn’t seen so it was okay.

Speaking of. Tom.

Tom was not in a good way at all. He’d been trying really hard to curb his’ short fuse’ lately- all of which had been well and truly blown in the past 4 hours. After finally being realised from meetings, which he’d not been able to concentrate on anyway, Tom had mentally prepared himself for a lot of grovelling. Once he’d vaguely hunted the house and not found you there, he naturally asked Harry and Tuwaine (both of whom were in the living room) if they’d seen you around.

It was a typical question, the answer he was expecting was that you’d just gone on your daily walk. And yet the response he got was… well a lot more confusing. Harry’s eyes widened whilst T did his awkward-uncomfortable chuckle, the two locked in an intense bout of eye contact. It was as though they were arguing with each, but through the powers of telekinesis... and it put Tom on edge. He was already stressed because you were so angry with him, so not getting a clear answer out of his brother and best mate - lets just say it tested his patience.

“You two need to tell me what the hell is going on right now.”

The two boys both looked panicked to speak to him, which was the opposite of the usual situation. They were some of the ONLY people in his life that would just say it how it is, no sugar coating. Like if he was away and being ‘famous’ was getting to his head; or if he wore the wrong pair of jeans. Even yesterday evenings events, they’d both called him out on what he’d said to you.

So why the silence?

Eventually, it was Harry who spoke up, but in doing so, practically just waved all responsibility on to another innocent party.

“Ask Haz.”

And then Tom knew. He knew this was bad. Immediately his heart was pumping at an alarmingly fast rate, taking the stairs two at a time and not bothering to knock before bursting the door open.

“Where’s Y/n?”

Harrison was reclined back on his haphazardly made bed, laptop balanced on his lap as he looked up with a sigh. He’d known this conversation was coming, but it didn’t make it any less easy. With a sigh, Haz closed the lid of his MacBook and sat up on the bed.

“Tom just-“

“Where. Is. She.”

“She’s gone to Y/f/n’s.”

“Oh… okay.” Suddenly Tom’s voice was muted, thinking he might’ve blown his top at nothing. This wasn’t weird - Y/f/n was in your support bubble and you went to hers often.

Tom was grossly underestimating the situation - and Harrison heard didn’t fancy stringing him along though.

“No like gone. She um… she took all her stuff. I think she’s going to stay there till-“

Tom was already out his room at that point, slamming the door as he did so. Making a beeline for his own room, Tom then frantically started to pull out the draws and rummage around the shelves, confirming what he already knew. Your clothes were gone, your toothbrush and toiletries were gone, you were gone.

It’s important to note Tom didn’t really cry all that much. Or if he did - it was more inconsequential, at a sad movie or one of the rescue dog stories from battersea. Actually, when it came down to it, he didn’t really cry.

Now though, it was impossible to ignore the burning of his eyes, as he sank down onto the bed that now felt twice the size. With ragged breath, he repeatedly fisted his eyes, not actually letting the tears fall - but it was impossible to not acknowledge their presence. Harrison stood wordlessly at the door frame, knowing it best not to interrupt - whilst at the same time knowing Tom shouldn’t be left alone. There was a delicate balance between the two, which he was walking on a knife-edge on right now.

After a short while, Tom looked up with red eyes and nodded at Harrison, effectively granting him entrance. With a sigh once again, Haz moved and sat next to Tom on the bed, clasping his hands together nervously.

“She said you both just needed a break from each other. Think lockdown and everything was just a bit too intense.” Haz had tried to explain, yet it seemed Tom had only managed to lock onto one of the first words.

“A break? Or breaking up?”

“I uhm… she didn’t explicitly say ending things. But I just… I don’t know to be honest mate.”

“You see the way she looked at me this morning? Like she hated me. Wouldn’t even acknowledge that I was there.”

“I don’t know what to say… she needs time and space I think.” Tom was silent for a beat, shaking his head as he cradled his forehead.

“I hate the fact you and my girlfriend are on better terms than I am.” Anddd his voice was back to scathing.

“I’m not on anyones side. But your both my friends and she… she needed some time.”

With that, Harrison made a quick exit out, getting Harry to take over the Tom supervision.

Ever since the atmosphere in the house had been tense. To say Tom was highly strung was an understatement, particularly towards Harrison. Deep down he was thankful Haz was looking out for Y/n: he was glad that Haz was checking she was okay. It’s not like Tom could, because Y/n was refusing to answer his calls, texts, whatsapps, even the slip of paper he’d slipped under Y/f/n’s door in the middle of an especially dark night.

So it was good to know Y/n was okay, but the fact she was going on socially distanced walks with the rest of his housemates was rubbing salt in the wound.

After a week and a half of complete radio silence on your end Tom had utterly worn down. He didn’t have the emotional capacity to be angry anymore, he was just tired. Tired of missing you with every breath, tired of the ten-tonne weight of guilt pressing on his chest, fucking exhausted with being angry at Haz and Harry and Tuwaine.

The best thing in his life and one of the very limited opportunities was quality time with the people he loved more than anything else. He had ruined it all.

And it was the small things. It was waking up to your soft, whispered voice in the morning; it was your infectious giggle when he surprised you with a hug from behind and gentle kisses to your neck; it was your quiet singing in the shower. Especially when he knew Haz, Harry and Tuwaine were all still seeing you and laughing with you. It hurt like hell.

Which is how he ended up hesitantly knocking on Harrison’s bedroom door at half eleven at night, with his tail between his legs. Having been so uber-healthy all lockdown, Haz was already in bed following his sleep cycle, though for Tom right now- he would be awake.

“I’m um… I’m sorry I’ve been a knob. There’s no excuse of anything I’ve just… I’ve been a knob.”

“You’re not wrong.” Harrison nodded in agreement with a sly smile, motioning for Tom to come into the room, after which he perched on the edge of the bed.

“I just… I need to speak to her but I… I don’t want to push her if she’s still hurting and I…”

“You absolutely promise not to blow your fuse? Because she couldn’t handle that.” Tom’s eyes widened, thinking this would be a much harder pitch than how it seemed to be going.

“Yesyesyes i- I promise. I just, I feel broken you know? Even if all I get is the time to say sorry, I-I really need to.”

Harrison released a deep breath, nodding slowly before throwing the covers off himself. Tom watched all his movements with a curious gaze, silently sitting as Haz pulled on a hoodie, then socks too.

“Well? Let’s go.”

//////////////////

Now, what Tom had not in the slightest bit been prepared for was this to happen tonight. Really, he hadn’t even thought Harrison would agree to let him talk to you… and even if he had, Tom not in hell thought it’d be at 11:30 that evening.

His heart was thundering in his chest, trying to hurriedly script how on earth he was going to apologise meaningfully to you - as him and Haz walked the short distance to your friends house. Honestly the whole situation was peculiar to Tom - finding it hard to believe that if you weren’t to answer his texts you wouldn’t be open to an in person conversation.

What Tom didn’t know, was how you’d been texting Haz at a similar point of desperation. You weren’t happy and even given everything Tom had said and acted - you missed your boy. No matter how infuriating he could be when trapped 24/7 - you’d quickly learnt this was the only way you wanted to spend these weird times.

So yes, Tom’s best friend knew you were hardly sleeping either, but needed that little push to interact with you boyfriend. No doubt, you’d still be awake to answer the door.

Once he’d arrived at the apartment block and walked up the stairs to the right floor, it still took some prodding and pushing from Harrison to get Tom to knock on the door. Plainly, because he was shitting himself. Haz hadn’t given him enough pre warning, enough time to work it all out in his head. So it took another encouraging nod from Harrison for him to knock on the slightly rough-round-the-edges flat door.

Y/f/n was single and young, starting her career in Kingston - so the flat she could afford was modest at best. When it was just occupied by a single person, that was manageable - two was a push. You’d only been living with her for a week and a few days but it was enough to know this flat was not ideal for two people in lockdown. You were already stepping on each others toes. It also wasn’t technically legal to move households but Y/f/n had always been in your support bubble as a single household otherwise. And so there was also a layer of guilt to it all.

Naturally then, sharing a bed with someone who wasn’t Tom meant you just were not sleeping. Even if you had both gone to bed early (just to kill some hours in the day) you were still wide awake at quarter to twelve - when a timid knock echoed through the minuscule apartment. Curiosity peaked at who the hell would be calling now; you silently slipped out of bed, managing to not disturb Y/f/n, and closed the bedroom door.

Now you weren’t an idiot. Even though this was southwest london, hardly the capital for crime, Y/f/n lived in a dodgy building with some questionable characters. And it was midnight. Hence why you approached the situation cautiously, tiptoeing to the door and waiting with your ear pressed against the wood.

“I told you she wouldn’t answer!”

“She will! Might just be in the loo or something.”

“Haz this is stupid-“

The air in your chest froze when you immediately recognised the smooth tone of his voice. It was him… and you’d missed that so much. Already there were tears in your eyes and you couldn’t open the door just yet. So no, instead you slid down the doorframe before calling quietly out into the night.

“Tom?”

The bickering on the otherside of the door was silenced, but you heard a quite tap on the door... and could envision exactly what was going on. Tom, pressing both palms and his ear to the door, as Harrison took a few steps back - sensing his work was done.

“Y/n? You there?” He sounded desperate, you could hear the emotion dripping off his voice. It was only when you tried to reply did you realise your own voice was having a harder time speaking.

“Yeh its-its me.” It felt as though this heavyweight that had been pressing down on your chest was slowly lifting, making your voice all cracky and low.

In response, there was a short and sharp exhale. It sounded relieved before some fidgeting as you imagined him crouching down beside the door - mirroring your image.

“Fuck, it… it feels so good to hear your voice.”

“Yours too… I’ve-i’ve missed you.”

Tom snorted at that, a gentle bang allowing you to realise he’d just whacked his head on the back of the wood.

“You have no idea how this week felt.” He was wrong though, you did.

Yes, maybe without the insurmountable guilt that Tom was rightfully feeling, but it didn’t mean that the time apart wasn’t easy.

“I do. This hasn’t been a nice holiday for me you know?”

He sighed, knowing that yet again he’d said the wrong thing. This time though, he didn’t rebut instantly (which surprised you), instead his response was more measured and calculated.

“I am so sorry. And of course, I know because I was the one that hurt you too. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that.” You nodded but given this conversation was happening through a door Tom didn’t see your gentle agreement - opting to fill the silence.

“I um… I’m not good at this whole um… speaking my feelings. But I’ve hated myself ever since I picked that fight with you. It was stupid and uh it-it was all my fault. I’m so so sorry for hurting you.”

“‘Why?” You tried to ask, except the words were stuck in your throat, making you have to clear it before asking again. “Why did you say it?”

“To get a rise out of you. It’s stupid and petty and fucking-fucking dumb. I said it not because I’ve ever thought it, I never ever have, but I knew it’d hurt you. I was preying on your insecurities because I was angry at the world and that was so unfair. “

“No shit.”

Silence reigned as you fiddled with your fingers - specifically with the promise ring he’d bought you a year ago.

“You-you think you could ever forgive me?”

“Thats the annoying part. I want to hate you because you literally stabbed me then twisted the knife but… but all I’ve done this week is miss you. Even when I saw Haz or Harry or Tuwaine. I just fucking missed you.”

“Can you open the door please love?”

Clumsily you scrubbed the tear tracks off your face, scrabbling to your feet so you could thrust open the doors. Because you might still be bloody pissed at him, but at the same time - you needed your Tom. Thrusting the door open, the first thing you registered was being pressed into Tom’s chest. His arms slinked around your waist and held him tight, which you reciprocated, squeezing tightly round his neck. Your senses were all being assaulted by one thing and one thing only. Tom.

He smelt like usual, except maybe the slightest bit stronger than usual - you figured he hadn’t showered in a day or two or bothered with cologne. The top of your forehead was pressed up against his chin, and as he readjusted his grip on you, you felt the scratchy feeling of his unshaven stubble. He kept whispering apologies against the top of your head, almost desperate and religiously.

Arching back, you brought both hands to cup his cheeks, looking into his glassy brown. eyes, which looked so lost and confused.

“I’m still angry.”

“Of course-“

“I’m still angry but I’m going to kiss you okay?”

Safe to say Tom didn’t require a verbal response, taking it upon himself to nudge his lips against yours, yet waiting for you to initiate the kiss. And that you did, everything else about this godforsaken week and a half. His index finger traced the angle of your jaw, whilst he held your lower back tight, pressing himself as close as physically possible to you. Needing you.

Eventually arching back, your thumb ran over his deep and sunken under-eyes, which added so much age to his face.

“You look tired Tommy.”

“Can’t sleep without you telling me goodnight.” That was another tradition you had had. Even when he was away, you’d even set an alarm for whatever bedtime was for the other across the world. Just so you could send a little message or voice not saying goodnight. Was it cringey? Yes. Did either of you care? No.

But since you’d been away all the evening wishes were absent from you. Which hurt Tom more than you may ever know.

“I know you’re still angry but will you please come home to me? I need you to be the last thing I hear at night and the first thing in the morning.”

would love to hear any feedback <333 (but think this is a bit of a shitter so im sorry!!!)

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @pandaxnienke @thegirlwiththeimpala @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @hollandlover19 @hunnybunimdun @crossyourpeter @thefernandasantana@hallecarey1

#tom holland x you #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tomholland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #harry holland

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no-pucks-given · 4 years ago

Text

MATTHEW TKACHUK | KEEP QUIET

A/N: There we are again after some lovely writer’s block! Just want to thank @chicagoblackhawkslover96 for keeping me sane through out this and telling me it will be okay. You’re a lifesaver. Also this imagine wouldn’t have been here without Taylor and her amazing requests, so thank you as well! This one is for you, love. @joshy-anderson17

Warnings: Oral (female receiving), public sex, unprotected sex, some swear words.

Summary: This is pure smut. Confiscated panties, a team dinner, a whole lot of sexual frustration and an empty restroom. You thought you had the upper hand this whole evening, but Matthew is always two steps ahead of you.

Word Count: 5.2K

Requested: Yes.

Annual team dinner, there are worse ways to spend your Friday evening. You don’t mind them at all, it’s a great opportunity to catch up with the guys and their girls while also enjoying great food and some entertainment. You just got out of the shower when you stumbled on Matthew, who was already dressed up and ready to go. “I’m not late, am I?” you ask him, even though you were sure you had all the time you needed to get ready.

He chuckles, knowing your fixation on being on time, he’s pretty sure you’ve never been late in your life. Never. “Nah, you aren’t. Take your time,” Matthew answers, his eyes locked on your body. He sits down on the bed, making sure he has the best view possible. You playfully roll your eyes at the way he openly gawks at your body, knowing it will rile him up, knowing it will get a reaction out of him. But Matthew stays surprisingly quiet, he simply stares at you unimpressed, an eyebrow raised.

Shrugging off his reaction, or lack of reaction, you continue to get ready, completely forgetting that Matthew is in the room as well. It isn’t until you try to pull on your panties you notice his presence again. His body presses against your back, his fingers brush over your arms, until he reaches your hands. His hands cover yours, gently tugging your underwear back down again. “Matthew, come on,” you whine. “I need to get ready.”

His lips brush over your shoulder, sending goosebumps all over your body. His lips brush against your ear. “You do need to get ready, but you won’t be needing any panties tonight,” he mutters against the shell of your ear, his teeth grazing your earlobe. His words catch you by surprise, although you can’t help the shiver of desire that runs through your body.

“But I do, I can’t go out without panties, Matthew.”

Matthew chuckles from behind you, before picking up your panties and throwing them on the bed. “Should’ve thought about that before you rolled your eyes at me, baby girl. Now go on, get ready, we don’t want to be late,” he says, lightly smacking your ass before he sits back down on the bed, a pleased grin plastered on his face. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you that your panties disappear into the pocket of his jacket, weird.

Just as you finish your makeup Matthew’s voice catches your attention again. “Ready to go?” he asks, coming up behind you. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. You catch his eye in the mirror, nodding your head at him. He smirks at you, his hand sliding from your waist towards your neck. His fingers wrap lightly around your throat, his eyes dark with desire. God, this is going to be a long night. You keep your eyes on Matthew’s, until he tilts your head and presses his lips on yours. “You look fucking amazing, such a shame we actually have to leave the house tonight.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes, you know he’d rather spend his time here instead of going to a team dinner with guys he sees almost every day. “Come on, Matty. It will be fun,” you say, gently nudging him with your elbow. You tilt your head at him, a mischievous look in his eyes, that cocky smirk you love so much plastered on his face. If there’s one thing you know for sure it’s that Matthew has something up his sleeve tonight.

“Oh, I’m sure it will be fun.”

See? He’s definitely up to something, and if your missing panties are any clue of how tonight will go, you better prepare yourself. His words play over and over in your mind, during the walk to the car, even during the drive to the restaurant. Halfway through the drive you find out exactly why it was so convenient for Matthew to take away your panties, why he was so smug about this whole thing. As usual his hand is on your thigh, a habit, something that happens during every drive. Honestly Matthew has his hand on you 90% of the time, so you aren’t suspicious at all.

Well, you aren’t at first, but when his hand slowly moves up towards the hem of your dress you sure as hell have your suspicions on where this is going. His hand slips under your dress and you can’t help the way you open up your legs for him, giving him more room to work with. He doesn’t move his hand any further, keeping you on edge, unsure of what comes next. His fingers brush over your skin so lightly, barely touching at all, however it leaves behind a need. A need only Matthew can help you with right now. The smug grin on his face tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“All you have to do is ask, baby girl. You know that.”

“Please, Matthew,” you beg, his featherlight touches leaving you wanting more, needing more.

Matthew, seemingly pleased with your words, trails his hand higher up your thigh, all the while keeping his eyes on the road ahead. His fingertips brush over your core, a gasp leaving your mouth. You see his smirk in the corner of your eyes, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His fingers slide through your folds, drenching themselves in your wetness. “Always so ready for me, aren’t you?” Matthew muses, toying with your entrance.

You’ve barely nodded your head at him when he pushes two digits inside of you, engulfing himself in your warmth. His words, his teasing makes you so weak for him, so responsive to his touch. Matthew moves his fingers inside of you, curling them just the right way, his thumb pressing on your clit. All the pent up frustrations from this evening, the sexual tension almost suffocating you, brings you faster and faster to the edge. The situation you’re in, the dress you’re wearing, the thought of other drivers seeing you, only spurs you on to come, fast.

You can feel your orgasm approaching, so close, so freaking close. So close, when Matthew pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty and needy behind. “Too bad we’re already at our destination.” Your eyes shoot to his, the confusion and disappointment clearly written all over your face. Matthew chuckles, taking in your ravishing appearance, before slipping his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. “Better luck next time, baby,” he says, sending you a wicked wink and opening his door to get out.

He opens your door, holding out his hand for you to grab. “You’re a bastard, you know that, right?” you tell him, although you’re fighting to keep the smile off your face. If this is the game he wants to play? Fine, but boy, he better make sure he’s ready to follow through.

The evening seems to be going well, just as expected it’s been lovely catching up with the guys and their girls. You find yourself enthralled by the stories Jacob is telling you about Sweden. You’ve always wanted to go there one day, perhaps it’s time to convince Matthew to come with you in the offseason. Jacob shares his favourite memories of the country, places you should definitely visit and food you definitely should stay clear off.

You aren’t surprised at all to feel Matthew’s hand creep up your thigh during your conversation with Jacob. It isn’t uncommon for him to have his hand on your thigh, on your knee, anywhere on your legs, but you know it’s different this time. The unspoken words, the promises made earlier this evening still float through your mind. This didn’t end in the car, it only started there and you’re planning on finishing it here. Although.. Maybe you’re planning on taking home a bit of this sizzling sexual frustration as well.

His fingers brush your skin just under the hem of your dress, even though it’s a move you expected him to make it still makes your breathing hitch in your throat. No matter what, no matter where you are, his touch will always leave a burning need behind, especially in a setting like this. There’s a reason the two of you go together like pieces of the same puzzle, it’s like both your mind and body speaks the same language as Matthew’s. Every single cell is in tune with his, it’s almost like they’ve been playing this game longer than the years you’ve known Matthew. It’s like they’ve done this before, maybe in another lifetime.

When his knuckle brushes over your sensitive skin you remember your task, the promise you made yourself. It’s time to play with Matty, instead of getting played with. You cross your legs, knocking his hand out of the way. The low grumble from Matthew doesn’t slip past you, you try to fight the smile that threatens to break through by the annoyance in his voice. You place your hand on his thigh, almost getting distracted by the muscles flexing underneath your touch. Leaning forward to grab the pepper from further along the table, your breasts swiftly brush his arm.

The way his body tenses up tells you how aware he is of you, how aware he is of your body this close to him. You can’t help but slide your hand further up his thigh, over the admirable bulge in his pants. Although, who are you trying to kid? This was the plan all along, play with him like he plays with you, until he can’t take any more. His sharp intake of breath, his eyes shooting to yours, the surprise clearly written all over his handsome face. Giving him an innocent smile you gently rub his growing erection through his pants.

It takes him a minute to switch back to the Matty you’re trying to lure out. His eyes turn to slits, his mouth curving up into that famous smirk. He leans in, while his hand joins yours under the table, pressing down onto his crotch, hard. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, baby.” His voice is nothing more than a rough whisper against the shell of your ear. A challenge, a dare to either quit before it gets out of hand or push through and show him what you’re made of. He should’ve known better, you’re never one to back down from a challenge. You’re one to grab life by the balls, maybe this time literally.

“Oh, don’t worry, Matty. I’m planning on finishing this,” you say, squeezing his erection through his suit pants again. Matthew tries to hide his groan behind a cough, catching the attention of his teammates around him. “Careful, baby. Don’t want you to choke on something.” As soon as the words leave your mouth you burst out laughing.

Matthew’s hand finds the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him again. His lips against your ear, his breathing the only thing on your mind, until he finally speaks. “If you don’t watch that pretty mouth, I’ll give you something to choke on, baby girl,” he whispers against your ear.

With your hand still on his crotch you turn your head to whisper in his ear. Fuck, this isn’t something you say out loud, this definitely isn’t something you talk about in a busy restaurant surrounded by your boyfriend’s teammates. “You want me to watch my mouth or put my mouth to good use, Matty? You know.. All you have to do is ask.” You grin at him as you throw his own words back at him. You sure as hell haven’t forgotten about that stunt he pulled in the car. That was just mean, even for him.

Matthew’s grip on the back of your neck tightens, forcing you to turn your head again. “Apparently you can’t watch your mouth, so I’m going to give you two options. Choose carefully.” His voice is barely a whisper against your ear. Maybe you’ve pushed too far, maybe you should’ve watched your mouth when he asked you to. But what’s the fun in that? You nod your head at him, bracing yourself for the possibility you aren’t going to like any of his options.

“You can either get up and walk that sweet ass of yours into the closest restroom or you can keep that hand on my dick until I can’t take it any longer and fuck you right here on the table for everyone to see. Your choice, baby girl,” he whispers.

Your eyes almost pop out of your head when you hear your choices. Slowly, so slowly you move your head to the side and look him in the eyes. Matthew is looking awfully content with your state of shock, his body relaxed back into the chair, almost lazily. “You wouldn’t dare,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice low enough so the others don’t hear your conversation.

Matthew raises an eyebrow at you in challenge, his signature smirk obviously plastered on his face. “Try me. Fucking try me, y/n.”

You can’t, you can’t possibly take that dare. You aren’t sure he’d do it, but you also aren’t sure he won’t do it. Is that a risk you’re willing to take? Probably not. The prospect of his teammates and their girls seeing something that intimate doesn’t sound that appealing to you. The first option however turns you on more and more the longer you think about it. You sneak a peek at Matthew, who’s still watching you with the same expression. He know it, he fucking knows how much the idea of him fucking you in the restroom turns you on. You fell for your own game. Well played, Matty. Well played.

“Fine. Fine, asshole,” you mutter, while turning around to face Jacob and excuse yourself. At some point you were having a conversation with him, although you can’t exactly remember what you talked about last. It doesn’t matter anyway, because Jacob simply smiles at you and nods his head, before Matthew picks up the conversation like they were talking all evening. You shake your head at Matthew, he really is something else. His eyes find yours, a dark, promising look behind them. That exact look makes you turn around and find your way to the closest restroom a little faster, excitement rushing through your veins.

You stand in front of the restrooms, trying to decide which one to pick. You should go into the women’s, but what about Matthew? He can’t be there. What the actual hell, you’re going to fuck in the restroom, it probably doesn’t matter whether you do that in the women’s or the men’s restroom. It’s wrong either way. Deciding to wait for Matty outside seems like the better option right now, it won’t take him long to get here. If you know him as well as you think you do, he’s as eager as you are. Maybe even more.

You lock eyes with him the moment he comes into view, the dark, smoldering look still on his face. A face full of promises, dirty fucking promises. “Any of these free?” he asks before he even reaches you. You shrug your shoulders, not knowing whether or not there are still people in there. “Don’t fucking care, need to be inside of you now.” Matthew grabs your hand, pulling you behind him and into the men’s restroom.

The moment the door closes he’s on you. Pushing you up against the door, his lips crushing yours, his tongue invading your awaiting mouth. You moan against him, you’ve waited on this moment all evening. All evening he was all you could think about, his touch, his lips, his tongue, his cock. “I need you, Matty,” you mumble against his lips.

A strangled groan leaves his throat, his hands grip the hem of your dress, pulling it up over your ass. “Fuck, baby,” Matthew groans as his hands squeeze your bare cheeks. “Should make you go out without panties more often.” His mouth finds yours again, tongues dancing around each other, hands roaming every inch of skin they can reach.

His hands move down, hoisting you up by the back of your thighs. Matthew walks over to the counter, sitting you down on top of it. Before you can say anything he drops down onto his knees in front of you, his arms around your thighs as he pulls you to the edge of the counter. He spreads your thighs with his hands, his face lighting up like a kid in a candy store, a man looking at his favourite meal. “You’re definitely not allowed to wear panties anymore, fucking hell,” he groans as he comes face-to-face with your glistening pussy. An evening full of teasing and edging made sure you’re so ready, so fucking ready for him.

Your hand finds his curls, tugging at the strands. “Matthew, please. Please, just fuck me. I need you,” you moan out the moment his tongue makes contact with your core. You don’t need foreplay, fuck. This whole evening has been full of foreplay. You need him inside of you, you need to feel him buried balls deep inside of you. That’s what you need.

Matthew chuckles against your core. “Always so impatient, huh? Give me an orgasm and I’ll make sure you get my cock a second later.” His lips latch onto your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves into his mouth. His fingers digging into your thighs to keep you from squirming underneath him. “Better make it quick, baby girl,” he mutters, delving back into eating you out like a starved man.

His fingers join his mouth, pushing two digits into your drenched entrance. His wicked mouth combined with his skilled fingers drives you absolutely nuts. You’ve been on edge all evening, especially after that denied orgasm in the car. All you need is that last push, that last missing piece of the puzzle to shatter around his fingers and come all over his mouth. The sight of him in front of you on his knees, his blonde curls between your spread thighs is your final straw. You slap your hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming out, a muffled form of his name echoes throughout the restroom, your thighs closing around Matthew’s head, while your hand tangled in his curls keeps him as close as possible.

Before you even have the chance to come down from your high, Matthew pulls you off the counter and turns you around. Your hips hit the counter, his hand pushes your chest down. You’re barely capable of keeping yourself upright, your legs still feeling like jelly after that intense orgasm, thankfully Matthew’s hand on your hip keeps you in place. You have no idea when he had the time to unbuckle his belt and get his cock out, because barely a second later he’s buried inside of you. You moan out at the sensation of him inside of you, finally.

“This is going to be quick and hard, okay?” Matthew rasps out as he picks up his pace. You almost forgot you’re in the restroom of a busy restaurant, at some point people are going to notice your absence. You nod your head at him, while Matthew fists your hair in one hand, the other one still tightly gripping your hip. “Look at me and fucking keep quiet.”

Your eyes lock on his through the mirror, biting down on your bottom lip to keep you from moaning out. His curls are a mess, even more than usual, his eyes dark with desire. As always his smirk is right there on his lips, although the faster he thrusts his hips, the more his smirk falters. He’s a sight for sore eyes, you’d almost come from just looking at him, almost.

His thrusts are fast, almost punishing, just as he promised you. The sound of skin on skin slapping reverberates through the restroom. You try, you try so hard to keep quiet, but you can’t. Not with the way he fucks you, fast, deep, rough. It’s too much, all you can do is hold on for dear life while Matthew fucks you. The way he hits all the right spots, stretching you so right. Balancing on the fine line between pain and pleasure, although pleasure definitely seems to be winning here. It’s just right, so right. At this point you don’t even care if someone hears you, you’re too far gone.

“Keep quiet, don’t want anyone to hear those pretty sounds you make,” Matthew groans from behind you, his hips never faltering in their punishing pace. He tightens his grip on your hair, slightly tugging on the strands to give him something to hold on to while he picks up his pace a notch.

You’re trying, but it seems like you can’t keep quiet anymore. He’s doing too much to you, his thrust hitting the right places, the places that get a reaction out of you. You’ve never been one to keep quiet, you never had to be quiet before. The one time you need to be, you can’t. “I can’t, I can’t,” you cry out, it’s too much, too fucking much. You hear him curse from behind you before the hand tangled in your hair moves to your face. His large hand clamps over your mouth, keeping the noises you make to an absolute minimum.

Matthew lets out an appreciative quiet moan at the sight before him. “Better, huh?” He knows you’re too far gone to answer him, and even if you could he still has his hand clamped firmly over your mouth. “Need you to come for me, baby girl. Need you to give me your orgasm,” he groans against your ear.

He’s so close, so close to his own release, but he won’t allow himself to orgasm before you do. It’s always like that, you come first. No matter what, no matter how many times he denies you throughout the day, you’ll always be the first one to come. It’s something he can’t seem to shake off, not that you’re complaining. Fuck no, the moment you start complaining about orgasm is the moment there’s something wrong.

The hand that just a second ago held a firm grip on your hip slips between your legs, instantly finding your clit. His fingers circle over the bundle of nerves, your breath hitching behind Matthew’s hand. You feel your orgasm approaching, a tingling feeling at the back of your spine, slowly taking over every single nerve ending. It’s like your on fire, lightning thundering through your veins. “Come on. Come for me.” You’re pretty sure you hear Matthew’s voice somewhere behind you, but you’re not even sure right now.

So fucking lost in chasing that orgasm, reaching the abyss of wonder. It’s his fingers pinching your clit, a last thrust of his hips in just the right place that has you undone. Crying out his name through a symphony of moans and whimpers. It’s a damn good thing his hand is still over your mouth. Even now, even with his hand clamped shut over your mouth you’re pretty sure people could hear you. You don’t care though, you’ve never felt like this. You’ve never felt this alive.

Matthew’s orgasm follows right after yours. He can’t take it any longer, not with the way your pussy clamps down on his cock, not with the way you pulse around him, not with the way you’re looking at him through the mirror. You feel the stutter in his rhythm, his breathing erratic. One, two thrusts and he’s done for. His hips stutter against you, burying himself deep inside of you as he blows his load, coating you in his seed. His teeth dig into the soft patch between your neck and shoulder, anything to muffle the sounds he’s making, anything to make that strangled groan leaving his lips more silent. It’s a lost cause, his groan echoes throughout the restroom.

He drops his head against your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. “Fucking hell, y/n,” he whispers, slowly dropping his hand from your mouth. “Fucking. Hell. You’re something else.” His hand brushes your hair out of your face, his thumb softly brushing over your cheek.

You let out a laugh at his praise. You’re something else? No way, he is. “That was intense, Matty,” you say, slightly whimpering as he gently slips out of you. He kisses your shoulder before backing up, giving you room to stand up again. Your legs wobble after two intense orgasms. “We should be heading back, people are going to notice our absence.”

Matthew nods at your observation, eyes still focused on the mess he made between your legs, the mess that’s slowly dripping down your legs. “Either clean that up or let me get you the fuck out of here,” he groans, rubbing his hand over his face. “You’re looking too good like this, too good to just go back to our table, too good to not take back home right now.” His hand reaches out to grab your face, lips crashing on yours, his tongue roughly making its way into your mouth.

You moan against his mouth, your hands pushing down your dress again. You’re not going to bother cleaning up the mess he made, the mess you both made. You’ve known Matthew for so long, you know him like the back of your hand. Even though he’s offering to take you back to the group and finish dinner, you know he won’t. Unless you told him to, but you won’t and he knows that, he’s counting on it. It’s like you said before, two pieces of the same puzzle. There’s a reason you work out perfectly together, this is one of them. “Then take me home, Matty. Take me home and show me whatever it is that you’ve got on your mind,” you whisper against his mouth as soon as you break the kiss.

His smirk is all you need to see to know you’ve been right. He does have more planned for this evening, there’s no way he’s done now. Matthew likes to take his time, likes to make you beg. This barely scratches the surface of everything that’s Matty. You’re in for a long night, you know it and you love it. “Take me home,” you say again, tugging at his messy curls.

Your hands reach out to zip him back up, it’s almost like nothing happened a few minutes ago. Almost. You turn around to wash your hands when the door to the restroom opens. Your head shoots to the side, eyes locked on the stranger in the door opening. “Uhm, uhh. I’m sorry? I’ll give you a minute,” the stranger mumbles before turning around and closing the door behind him.

You slowly turn around to Matthew, who surprise, surprise wears a smirk on his face. “You didn’t lock the door behind you. You’re telling me anyone could’ve walked in when you were buried balls deep inside of me?” you ask him, pointing a finger at him in accusation.

Matthew grabs your hand, pulling your forward into his arms. His mouth brushes against your ear. “You’re telling me this didn’t turn you on to no end? You’re telling me the thrill of being caught doesn’t make your pussy wet?” he whispers against your ear. You shudder against him, making Matthew chuckle. It’s all he needed to know. “That’s what I thought, baby girl.”

Shortly after he pulls you out of the restroom and back into the restaurant. You’re trying to act normal, but you’re pretty sure the postorgasm bliss is still clearly written all over your face. Even if it isn’t, your messy hair is a giveaway of what just happened in the restroom. Matthew stops at the end of the table, clearing his throat. “Sorry guys, I’m taking y/n home. She isn’t feeling very well, might be something in the food here,” he says, throwing his arm over your shoulders and pulling you close. You give them all a small smile, nodding at Matthew’s words.

There sounds a bunch of ‘get well soon’ and ‘see you later’ around the table, before you say your own goodbyes, telling them to enjoy the rest of their evening. However Johnny smirks before he leans forward and catches your attention. “Sure sounded like she had a rough time in there,” he says, the smirk on his face turning into a grin when he hears your groan of embarrassment.

Matthew is sharper than you thought he would’ve been. “Shut the fuck up, Johnny,” he says, smacking his friend on the back of his head. “Eat your food, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Johnny’s laugh sounds throughout the restaurant as you both walk away. You can’t help turning around underneath Matthew’s arm and flipping Johnny the bird, which only makes him laugh harder.

You intertwine your fingers with his, squeezing them tightly. “I’m curious though,” you start, catching Matthew’s attention. His eyebrows raise in question, a low encouraging sound leaving his throat. "Why did you take my panties before we left?" You can't help but wonder why he did that. It doesn't make sense to you at all. Is it some kind of reminder that you weren't wearing any panties? You're pretty sure he did not need a reminder for that.

“He sure has some nerve,” you mumble the moment you step outside and into the cold night. “It wasn’t that obvious, right?” You chuckle at your own question, because yeah it was.

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll make sure he regrets ever making that comment,” Matthew chuckles, his knuckles brushing over your cheek. You roll your eyes at him, sometimes he’s such a caveman. Although the fact that he’ll do that for you warms your heart.

Matthew chuckles, pulling you close to his side as you make your way over to the car. "To stuff them in your pretty mouth if you didn't shut the fuck up." Matthew shrugs his shoulders, while your head snaps to him, eyes wide in shock. Your gasp makes him laugh out loud, squeezing you even tighter against his side. "But looking back my hand did the job as well. We'll keep your panties for another time."

"You're absolutely crazy, Matty. Absolutely crazy," you laugh, shaking your head softly at your boyfriend. He's something else, that's for sure. But never, never would you trade him for someone who’s less crazy. Normal is boring, normal is overrated. Wicked, wicked is the way you want it, wicked is the way you love it.

"But you love it, don't you, baby girl?"

"That I do, that I do, Matty," you laugh again, pulling him towards the car by his hand.

The night has only just begun.

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