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caesium-55 · 6 months

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—seven days. [ vi.iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: updating bc i love yall. lol jk i dont want to study for my engineering management long quiz yet. sum1 yell at me to start studying or smth.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2021 is a little dramatic in Max’s opinion. Some would say controversial. A lot of restarts. The issue with the safety car. Hamilton and Verstappen goes neck to neck. 369.5 points to 369.5. In the end, Verstappen overtakes Hamilton and wins the 2021 World Drivers' Championship.

The team celebrates with him after winning and in the sea of Red Bull employees, Max searches for you.

He won! Max Verstappen won! He’s a WDC now! He finally made truth of the world he told you in 2019.

Kelly appears and kisses him square on the lips. Max sees you in his peripheral vision, pulling your ball cap lower on your face before turning around and leaving. He wants to call you but Kelly keeps him in place.

Max visits your hotel room later, all happy and he holds the canned bottle of beer to you when you open the door.

“I’m not the sour loser anymore.”

You smile at him and Max feels like he’s on top of the podium again.

“Told ya you’ll be champion one day. Congrats, champ. Very happy for you.”

Champ.

Max decides that he likes Champ over every name you call him.

2022

you: go to fucking sleep u degenerate gamer

you: its 3 in the morning you have a race at 8

max: youre not my mother

you: i am ur manager u ass

you: and i have ur mom’s cell no

you: i will fucking call her if ur stream doesn't turn offline in ten seconds

you: 10…

max: you wouldnt dare

you: 9…

He moves into a penthouse at the beginning of the year and purchases a jet, Dassault Falcon 900EX, to make the traveling easier. Flying commercial absolutely sucks, even first class.

When he mentions the money he spent; the penthouse rental cost, the price of the jet plus maintenance of the private plane service, you have stood up and went to the balcony to stare at the Monaco scenery to gather your thoughts. Max laughs as he watches your brain overheat. He tells security that you’re to be given an immediate pass into the building and his penthouse without the need of going through the strict security checks. He gives you a keycard that you barely use because you knock on the door every single time you come by. A month later, Kelly and Penelope move in and this is the beginning of the little family charade.

“What are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious?” you gesture to the iPad in your hand. “Readin’ a Lestappen fic in AO3.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lestappen?”

“The ship name between you and Charles. Lestappen. Leclerc, Verstappen, Lestappen,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s stupid for even asking, waving your hand in a complicated flourish. “It’s good. Top-tier literature. Want me to send you the link?”

Max’s nose scrunches, “So there are people who ship me and Charles?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Romantically?”

You nod, “Want the link?”

“Absolutely not.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Your loss.”

Max wins P1 (as things should be) in Austin, Hamilton P2, and Leclerc P3. The team holds a private drinking party in the hotel bar. Max sits with Leclerc, whom he has invited, and Lando, who came with Daniel, and Daniel because he’s Daniel and he still gets a free pass in Red Bull parties even though he’s in McLaren now.

Daniel passes him a bottle of Heineken and Max searches for the bottle opener on the table but it's nowhere. He reaches for you, who sits on the neighboring table with the PR team. Max grabs the hem of your polo shirt sleeve and tugs slightly to get your attention. He opens his mouth to ask if you’ve seen the bottle opener but you got to moving, not even giving Max the chance to speak.

Without even interrupting your conversation with the PR people or even breaking eye contact with the person who is talking animatedly, you take the beer bottle from Max’s hand, toss a hand towel on top of it, then you use your teeth to remove the cap. It opens with a loud click. You wipe the rim of the bottle, pocketing the bottle cap, before returning the Heineken to Max.

Max looks at the Heineken bottle in his hand.

You know, Sophie, Max’s mother, always say that there's a certain type of intimacy existing when two people are able to communicate without the use of words. People associate intimacy with bare skins and basking in the fragility and vulnerability of a person, but intimacy goes deeper than mere nakedness and showing all the bare parts of you to the other person. Intimacy comes hand in hand with truth. When you admit your truth to the other person, that's intimacy. Her knowing his truth, his needs, without him telling her. That's another kind. If that's not the purest form of love then he does not know what is.

Charles pats his shoulder to pull him to reality.

At that moment, Max decides he’s an asshole because he just realized that he likes his manager after she opens his beer bottle and he has a fucking girlfriend now.

Max wins WDC for the second year in a row. Leclerc is at second and Perez at third. He’s on the top of the fucking world. Everything feels right now that he’s standing at the top.

His eyes search for you in the crowd but he doesn't find you. Only Kelly. He kisses Kelly, celebrates with the team, and visits you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer in hand. It's a little past midnight, his watch tells him. You open the door seconds after Max knocks.

“Have you talked to Horner?” you ask, accepting the beer and opening it. The loud click when you open it feels satisfying in his ears.

You’ve changed out of the Red Bull polo now and instead, you wear a black shirt.

“No,” Max shakes his head.

“When will you?”

“Soon.”

That's the only truth he can offer. Because the bigger truth is this: Max doesn't want you going anywhere, not even the engineering team who works closely with him. He only wants you here, beside him, behind him, at all times.

One more year. One more year and he's going to tell Christian to move you to the engineering team. One more year to have you and he’ll let you go.

(That's what he told himself last year, too.)

“Okay,” you nod and it relieves Max that you’re not arguing with him about it. “Congrats, Champ.”

You don't fly with him to Monaco. You don't fly with the team either. Instead, you fly to Texas immediately straight from Abu Dhabi. Max calls you once in the middle of break to greet you happy holidays and you mail him his gift—a clay keychain figure of him. He adds it to his keys, sitting right next to the beaded keychain you gave him back in 2020 and a bottle opener keychain in 2021.

2023

“Should I break up with Kelly?”

Your head snaps up at a speed that should be considered a hazard, stunned. You give Max a look that can be translated as: Did the g-force finally catch up to your brain?

“What prompted this?” you question, slowly setting Max’s laptop aside. You’re working on fixing his laptop’s wifi connection while he’s getting his makeup done for the Heineken ad filming. Once the makeup artist deemed him done and left the room, he immediately took the chance to ask the question.

“Nothing,” he lies.

“I’ll throw away your laptop if you don't tell me the truth,” you threaten.

“It's just—” Max pauses. His mouth feels dry. He licks his lips before continuing, “It’s just… I don't know how to explain it. It feels like I don't love Kelly anymore.”

I think I love you, [Name].

“Aight,” you grab a monoblock chair and drag it until it's right beside Max’s chair and plop your ass down. You sigh deeply before your face schools into complete seriousness. “Can't believe I’m the one givin’ you this talk. Uh, Max, you see, in a relationship, you typically experience this period called the honeymoon phase.”

Max nods slowly. He doesn't know where you're trying to get at but he clings on each word that leaves your mouth.

“The honeymoon phase can last anywhere from months to years and when it's done, the strong feelings and infatuation you have for Kelly decreases and that's natural. This is the stage where your bond with Kelly is strengthened,” you explain. “It's not all sunshine and rainbows. It can get boring. But the love is still there. It's just…well, less intense than before.”

He wants to ask if this happened to you and Leo as well, but he bites his tongue and says a different thing instead, “You give advice like a relationship guru.”

“Baby, I have a long list of ex-lovers. Kelly’s your first girlfriend. You don't have a say.”

Your birthday is near. Daniel shares to Max that he’s buying you a new ball cap this year, signed by your favorite professional billiard player. Max needs to give you something better.

He thinks about the things you like. He makes a list. It's a short one.

Beer

A spot in the engineering team.

Your family

He cannot give number three. He cannot give what you already have. He can give you number two but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want you to be anything other than his manager. He can give you number one but it'll be very lame of him if he gives you beer for your birthday. What is better than Daniel’s gift? What would you like more than a ballcap?

Max calls his sister that evening.

“Shoes,” she says. “Oh wait, that's a little hard. You might get her shoe size wrong.”

“She’s size 7. In Euro, 37,” Max states a little too quickly and a little too sure.

“How did you know her shoe size?” Victoria wonders.

“I don't know. I just watch her feet?”

“So, you estimated her shoe size by watching her feet like a creep?”

“I watch her feet a normal amount, Victoria,” Max insists.

“Max, I can't even tell my husband’s shoe size even if I stare at his feet for hours.”

“Maybe you just suck at estimating measurements.”

Max ends up getting the shoes with Victoria’s help. Victoria gets too irritated with him midway because he is too indecisive. He thinks all the shoes that’s displayed do not suit you.

It's not even this difficult when he’s picking shoes to give Kelly. Normally, he just asks the saleswoman to show him the most expensive or the latest in their stock and he buys it, instructs the storespeople to wrap it up and make sure the brand shows because Kelly likes it when the brand is big and bright and attention-grabbing.

“If you think nothing’s pretty enough then go get a custom made shoe,” she advises and then sighs in exasperation. Victoria shakes her head at him. It's not supposed to be a serious suggestion but Max takes it to heart.

Instead of black, Max goes for white. You rarely go in white clothing but when you do, you become so beautiful that Max has to stop himself from kneeling down in front of you and risking everything.

It has pearls and diamonds and satin. All beautiful things that reminded Max of you. Max wants, no, needs to see you put them on. He’s the one who puts it in a box. White-colored with peach stickers and a peach-colored ribbon.

Max plans to give them to you after he wins the Miami Grand Prix. But your family arrives just as he’s about to retrieve it from his driver’s room.

Max meets your family. A family that consists of happy parents and three brothers. You are your family’s unica hija.

Julio [Last Name], your father, is a big man and his accent is thicker than yours and he doesn't call you by your name, only the most affectionate-sounding mija. He reminds Max of a giant teddy bear. A giant teddy bear who crushes rocks for a living.

Your mother, on the other hand, is a stern-looking woman. Sally, her name was. She’s short, compared to you and her sons and her husband.

You have three brothers. One older—you call him Damiano. Two younger—Rafael and Dominic. You are more your mother than your father, Max notices. Appearance-wise anyway. Damiano, too. Sharp-looking, both of you. Your sharpness makes you look charming whereas your Damiano’s sharpness makes him look intimidating. Your two younger brothers are carbon copies of your father, a little round and with kinder looking features.

“Papa, Mama, Bro one, two, and three, this is Max,” you introduce him, smiling widely and you're doing that smile where you’re showing too much gums and your eyes are shaped like crescents. Happiness looks good on you.

He lets out an oof sound when your father engulfs him in a hug. Max hears you exclaim: “Papa!”

Max laughs and waves his hand to tell you that the hug is fine and is very much welcomed.

“Congratulations, Maxwell!” Julio claps Max’s shoulders.

“Papa, please,” you shake your head at your father’s antics. “It's just Max.”

“Ya want to join us for [Name]’s birthday?” Julio invites. Max catches your eyes. You mouth a no but Max shrugs and says, “Sure.”

Max joins the family dinner. It's held in a Mexican restaurant somewhere downtown. Originally, your family reserved a table for ten. But Max has gone ahead and reserved the entire restaurant by paying upfront. You slap Max’s hand but Max laughs and says, “Happy Birthday [Name].”

Over dinner, Maxs learns that Rafael, Dominic, and Damiano are the biggest motosport fans so they all talk about Formula One and occasionally MotoGP. He finds out that they're a big fan of Marc Marquéz. Max tells them that he knows Marc personally and shares his experiences with the man. He promises to send them the man’s signatures. You tell him that he doesn't have to. He tells you that it's his pleasure.

Max listens in attentively as Julio narrates his amazing tales about his work experience. You laugh at the surprised Pikachu face Max makes when Julio is telling the entire table about the creepy call he responded to just the other month. You and your mother occasionally join in on the conversation but are more comfortable with listening to the boys.

Later, you stand up to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Max stands from the table five minutes after you leave. He’s drunk too much soda so now he needs to take a piss.

“Are you okay?” Max asks as he catches you reapplying a layer of lipstick—a shade of nude rose—on the sink in front of the washroom.

You hold the lipstick in one hand but the other is holding your right arm, palm covering the word MANAGER printed on the sleeve of your Red Bull polo shirt like it's something to be ashamed about.

“Yeah.” A lie.

The rest of the night goes the way Max wants it. He almost wishes it won't end.

Kelly waits for him in his hotel room. She gives him a gift for winning P1. The shoe box in Max’s backpack remains untouched.

He’s got every country except Singapore, Saudi, and Azerbaijan under his belt. His third WDC is secure even if he loses Abu Dhabi, but Max is selfish. He still wants a P1 in Abu Dhabi so he fights and fights until no one can catch up because of how fast he was.

Kelly comes with him this time to watch him race and support him because it's the final race of the season and she also knows that Max is going to win WDC this year. P is over at her father right now so it's just the two of them.

“Babe!” Max looks up from his laptop. Kelly comes running in and Max’s eyes widened, horrified, when she sees that Kelly is holding it.

The white shoes.

Max stands abruptly. The laptop in his lap falls to the floor and shatters. He curses and crouches down to pick it up and save what he can save. When he looks up, Kelly is sitting on the bed now and is trying the shoes on. Max shoves the damaged laptop aside and strides towards her. He’ll deal with the laptop later.

“That's not—”

“Oh?” Kelly’s face morphs in confusion. “It doesn't fit.”

Kelly chuckles yet it sounds empty and dread pools in Max’s stomach.

“You bought me shoes many times already. There’s no way you’ll get my shoe size wrong.”

Max takes the shoes from her hand quickly and he puts them back carefully in the box.

“That's not for me,” Kelly states.

“It’s not for you,” Max echoes.

“Then who’s it for, Babe?”

Max doesn't answer. Instead, he avoids her gaze.

“Max Emilian Verstappen, who’s the shoes for?” Kelly is seething now.

For the first time in their two nearly three year long relationship, Max and Kelly get into a screaming argument. They get into arguments as all couples do, but never ones with screaming and crying and too much anger in one room.

“I can't go on like this anymore,” Kelly cries. “I can't. I let it go when you made me wait because you celebrated her birthday with her family. I let it go when you made her that crochet bag. I let it go when you bought a billiard table and brought it into our home because she likes playing billiards—”

“I tried breaking up with you!” Max roars and he sees Kelly flinch. “And you told me not to. You used Penelope so I wouldn't break up with you—”

“Do not even say my daughter's name—”

“It's true!” Max throws his hands in the air like a man gone mad. “I told you in fucking July that I think I’m losing feelings for you! You told me to not break up with you because Penelope already thinks of me as her father and it’ll break her heart if I kick you out of my house! I am NOT her father, Kel, her father’s Daniil! You only want me because I can give you everything you want! Money, pride, and a fucking father figure for your child!”

Kelly strikes his cheek. Sharp, fast, and strong. Max remains still in shock and stares ahead.

Kelly has officially become the second person in this world who has raised a hand at Max.

“I hate you,” Kelly utters it with so much intensity. “I hate you. We’re done.”

She leaves quickly.

Max’s phone buzzes.

you: hey champ. race is on in an hour n a half. u good to go?

max: yeah

max: i’ll be there soon

you: i’ll wait for u

max: you always do

Max races with the guilt that he's a cheating asshole. His mother will not be proud of it once she learns that her son has dated a girl and idiotically realized that he’s in love with his manager halfway through the relationship.

Despite the emotional turmoil that swirling inside him, Max takes P1 and becomes a third-time WDC. He celebrates with the team. You excuse yourself, saying you have something important to do, and Max doesn't bother asking you to stay because he knows he’ll visit you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer. It’s become your ritual now.

He drinks with Daniel, Yuki, and Checo. Five bottles in, he spills everything. He pukes. It tastes disgusting. His world turns into a hazy blur. You came to his rescue because that's what you always do.

Max is so dumb for taking so long in realizing that he's in love with you. It's always been you. You and your dumb considerate attitude and your snarky personality and your crude mouth. He never realized how horrifyingly enormous his desire for you is until its right there in front of him with its mouth wide open, ready to swallow him whole.

you: landed

you: thanks for the jet

you: talk soon gotta get to papa 1st

max: ok

max: stay safe

max: your dad will be alright dont worry

you: i hope so

It has been seven days since the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, three days since you left Monaco, two days since your last conversation in Instagram, and a day before Max flies to Belgium to celebrate the holidays with his mother and sister and his sister’s family.

max: are you okay?

max: just landed in belgium

max: mum and vic says hi

max: hey it's been a week now

max: is your dad okay?

max: im worried

max: call me soon please

max: happy holidays

max: or merry christmas

max: whatever you celebrate there in america

max: yeah i greeted a little too early

max: you didn't answer my call

max: im friends with logan now by the way

max: we talk at times

max: im trying to get him into sim racing

max: maybe it'll help him improve

max: happy holidays

max: i called your cell

max: you know christian just told me something funny

max: he sent an email this morning with a list of candidates for my 2024 manager

max: he said you resigned

max: very funny

max: please tell me you didn't

#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #f1 imagines #manager!reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv33

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

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Three for One 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, cheating, customer service abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As a customer service associate, you're used to work with a wide variety of characters. Your efforts to go above and beyond draw the attention of a certain set of customers who want more than what's on the shelf.

Character: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen, Ransom Drysdale

Note: Right, this was supposed to be a drabble series but it morphed and not I'm fucked.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It's the most special time of year! Mistletoe, jingle bells, and holiday cheer! Oh, and hot chocolate. Lots of that.

You hide your thermos under the desk and grab the crystal bottle again, giving a test spritz to the air. Your job isn't very complicated. All you do is say hi and chat about the perfume. Your manager says the job is selling but you don't like to see it that way.

You smile at a family of five as they veer towards the toy section. You don't think the six year old would be into an eau de parfum. It's understandable.

While you spend your hours wandering around expensive makeups and scents, you're filled with a certain hint of longing. For what you're paid to push the merchandise, you can't afford any of it yourself. Well, you've never been very materialistic.

You spin around and see a gentlemen approaching, though he doesn't seem to see you. He looks past you, almost through you. You stop in place and put on your best smile, fixing the red band around your head.

"Hello, sir, would you like to try some Gucci?" You offer and spray the nozzle at him.

He skids to a stop and recoils as if he's been slapped. He holds out his arm as he looks down at his coat, little droplets seeping into the fabric. He takes a whiff, his short mustache wiggling under his nose, and he scoffs as he tries to shake off the cologne.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He snips.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You just go around spray people with that horseshit?"

"Well, sir, with respect, I don't like that sort of language.

"And I don't like being drenched in dog piss," he blusters, "point me to the goddamn trimmers."

"Um, what kind? Nail trimmers? Pet trimmers? Garden trimmers?"

"What the fuck do you think?" He points to his own face.

You hold your smile. There's always that one customer who's having a bad day. Whatever's got him so upset must be worse than dealing with him.

"Personal care," you point to the far corner, "right over there, sir."

"Ugh," he stomps and storms off.

"I hope your day gets better," you call after him, "oh, did you want a store coupon--"

He ignores you as he waves you off over his shoulder. You watch him turn towards men's grooming and you shrug, rocking slightly. You try not to let them get to you. As jolly as you find this time of year, a lot of people don't feel the same.

You shrug off the encounter. You still have a few hours ahead of you and it's starting to bustle with customers. You help a couple find the home wares while keeping the boundary of cosmetics firm. Lucille, the manager, doesn't like you leaving your zone.

You approach a woman looking at the Prada selection and get her checked out with a new fragrance, specially gift-wrapped by yours truly. She leaves happy, a small victory for the day. You celebrate but not too much.

You come around the counter just as you see that man strutting back up. He has an item in his hand and ignores you as he passes. Still you smile at him.

"Annoying," he mutters under his breath.

"Need help finding anything else, sir?" You ask his heels.

He stops and you see the way his spine stiffens. Oh no, you shouldn't have said anything. He slowly turns to face you.

"You can shut up," he marches up to you and grabs the bottle from your hands, "shut." He sprays you in the face, "up." He squirts you several more times before shoving the vial against your chest, "stupid little girl."

You take the bottle, blinking as you use your cuff to wipe the perfume away from your eyes. He continues on his path as you stand dumbfounded, drenched in Gucci cologne. It's hard to breathe through the heavy scent and you can't help but cough.

What a jerk. Just because he's having a bad day, doesn't mean everyone needs to.

Slowly you grow accustomed to the smell of yourself. It’s not too unusual. You go nose blind about halfway through your shift once you spray a few too many samples. You keep your distance from customers, offering them a spritz but trying not to crowd them with the vapors of cologne rippling off of you.

You yawn as the afterwork rush floods in and you make another round, smiling at Sofia as she peeks over at you. She’s with another customer at the counter, ringing them up as she gabs. You spin at the display at the center of the crossway that runs through the beauty department and stagger back before another can run you over.

You apologise to the tall man as he skids to a stop on his soles. You can tell he’s in a hurry by the way he grips his briefcase and squares his jaw. He wears a long dark wool coat as flecks of snow melt into his thick beard.

“Oh, sorry, I er, wasn’t–” He clears his throat, collecting himself, “I… didn’t see you.”

“That’s okay, sir,” you assure him, “would you like to try the new scent?”

You hold up the onyx bottle but don’t spray him. You don’t need another dousing. He looks at the silver letters on the side then at you. The furrow in his brow lightens as his blue eyes swim.

“No thanks, but er, you think you could help me find something?”

“Of course,” you chime and lower the bottle, “are you looking for a gift for someone special?”

He nods, “my mother-in-law is on her way into town, I need a present. Maybe perfume?”

His tone is tinted with frustration as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck. He lets out a long sigh. He’s one of those shoppers; the last minute scrambler. You grasp the vial in one hand and tug at the front of your thick red sweater, you’re starting to get a bit toasty in the crowded store.

“How old is she?” You ask.

“Um,” he clamps his lips together and thinks, “hmmm, probably seventy-something? I’m sorry, I guess I should know that.”

“That’s okay, I… I would suggest some Liz Taylor,” you turn on your heel and wave him after you as you head off, “it’s a classic. Not so much a me scent but the older crowd likes it. Oh, and it’s on special so your wallet won’t hate it, either.”

You stop by the Diamonds display as you face him again. He follows at a pace and stops before the shelf, perusing the gold caps and crystal caps. He considers the rack in deep thought.

“Here,” you set down your bottle on a nearby table of seasonal decorations and take one from the display. You slip out a strip of cardstock and spray it with the sampler, “this one is gardenia. That was her favourite scent. It’s probably the least pungent.”

You offer him the sample and he eyes it. He slowly bends and sniffs the end of the paper. He wiggles his nose. It makes you sneeze too. As much as you’re a fan of the classic actress, her scents are dated.

“Smells like her,” he grumbles under his breath, “sure, I’ll take that.”

“Great,” you declare and trade the sampler for a boxed bottle, then retrieve your disposed Gucci vial, “would you like me to check you out, sir?”

“Is it faster?”

“I can be fast,” you promise him, “this way.”

You go around the sparkling counters and he meets you across the till. You type in your log in, taking several tries to get your passcode right. The man places his briefcase on the counter,a hand resting on the edge.

“You know a lot about this stuff?” He prompts.

“Yeah, I guess,” you smile as you scan the perfume and tap the special offer on the screen, “kinda part of the job.”

“Hmm” he hums again, in that thoughtful manner. You look at him but he’s not looking at your face, “that’s a nice sweater.”

You look down at the red wool speckled with pearls. It’s new and one of your favourites already. You can’t help a little wiggle of your shoulders, “thanks!”

“Very… cheerful,” he muses as he takes out his wallet, “wish I could say the same of what awaits me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir, it’s that time of year, I guess,” you push the debit machine towards him and he taps his credit card, “I’m sure your mother-in-law will love the perfume.” The transaction approves and the receipt prompts, “would you like an email?”

“Nah, that’s fine,” he tucks his credit card away.

“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” You offer, “it’s free?”

He hovers his hand over his briefcase as he considers it. His eyes meet yours and his cheek dimples, “alright, yeah, that’s… that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problem,” you beam back at him, “let me just get some tissue paper…”

You murmur to yourself as you grab some gold tissue paper and a white gift bag with a Christmas tree embossed into the side. You carefully line up the small box on the paper and begin your intensive work. You're a master wrapper, you used to work at the wrapping station in the mall.

“What about you?” He asks before the silence can stretch too far, “you seeing family for the holidays? When you’re not working?”

“Um,” you smile as you look up, “I’m just hanging out with my dog. I bought him a bone.”

“A dog,” he nods, “your family live out of town?”

Usually, you ask the questions. It’s easier that way. It deflects the attention from you. It’s why you like the job; you can hear all about others and not have to think about yourself.

“Yeah, something like that,” you slip the wrapped box into the bag and fluff the tissue paper.

“Eh!” The loud exclamation makes you jump as the man merely turns his head, a tic in his jaw. His eyes narrow as another customer approaches, strutting with hands in his jacket pocket as he calls out, “Barber, what the hell?”

Your customer shifts towards the man, heels squeaking on the floor, “Hugh.”

“Don’t Hugh me, asshole,” the other man retorts, “you said you were busy? What’s the matter, you lose too much money last time?”

“Suzette is in town. Family dinner,” the man, Barber, drones dully.

“Ah, ditched for the old crone, I get it.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, wouldn’t you know it, poker night was canceled, something about not enough seats,” the man counters sharply.

“Next week,” the first man growls.

“Hey, you,” the man in the russet coat snaps his fingers in your direction, “you got some of that Acqua di Gio. That dumb girl over there said you’re sold out.”

Your brows pop up and you swallow tightly. He’s another type. The arrogant demander. He doesn’t hear no. He’ll ask everyone the same question in hope of getting a different answer.

“We are out of stock, sir, but I could order it in for you,” you suggest.

“Order in? I can just go on Amazon, thanks for nothing,” he chops his hand at you dismissively.

“Hey,” the other man nudges his chest, “be nice. She’s working.”

“What? I’m here to spend money and they got shit all–”

“It’s December,” the other man reproaches before he turns back to you, “sorry, my friend is a jerk.” He accepts the gift bag as you hold it out, “thank you. You saved me.”

“No problem, but er, I was gonna say,” you turn to the other man, “sir, I have some samples of the Armani. I could give you those while you wait for the order.”

“Samples?” He echoes, “how many?”

“Let me have a look,” you back up and go to the drawer at the back of the checkout.

“I gotta get going, miss,” the first man waves his hand as you peek over your shoulder, “have a happy holiday.”

“You too,” you chirp back and find the last few tubes of Armani. You claim them and prance back to meet the new customer at the counter, “I have five.” You lay out your wares, “if I order in a bottle it’ll be in just before Christmas.”

“Two weeks?” He puffs.

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s the earliest I can do. It’s the last day I can guarantee delivery before Christmas.”

“Talk, talk, talk, order it,” he snaps.

“Right, let me just…” you open the shop and search up the scent. You add it to the cart and proceed. “Alright, got that, did you want it shipped for pick up here or to your address.”

“Here, they can never fucking find my house,” he sniffs.

“Great, so when it arrives, we’ll give you a call. You’ll also get an email to confirm.”

“What’s going on here?” He points at you suddenly. You look down again at your sweater but don’t see anything amiss. You flinch as he reaches to pinch one of the pearls, “what is this?”

“Oh, I… my sweater,” you raise your head, swallowing down the insult. It’s cute!

“Huh, Walmart clearance, huh,” he scoffs, “alright, how much are you robbing me for?”

He reaches into his coat as you hit total. You read out the final amount but he doesn’t pull out a card; he hands you cash. You count the bills, twice over, then give him his change. He looms with impatient huffs.

“Here’s your receipt,” you hand him the strip of paper. “Have a good day, sir.”

“Mmm,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek as he shoves the receipt into his pocket, “actually, while I’m here, I’d like a new sweater. You can help me and I’ll show you what real quality is.”

You almost laugh. Not spitefully, it’s just a bit silly. He’s competing with you, a perfume pusher.

“Well, sir, I can point you towards men’s fashion but I’m not able to leave this department, I’m sorry,” you give a sheepish smile.

“Oh no, good girl wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he rolls his eyes, “goody goody and her precious little smile.” He hooks his thumbs in his pockets, “my shit better be in by Christmas.”

He twists and strides away. You watch him go but not for long as you’re quickly distracted by a customer looking at the Britney Spears collection. Those are easy sellers.

765 notes · View notes

nicestgirlonline · 11 months

Text

Let Me Hear You Scream

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT AHEAD! 18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI! language, threatening situations, DUB CON, horror elements

Word count: 3.8k

Summary: It’s the 90s so you actually answer the phone when you’re watching movies

a/n: Happy Halloween yall!!!! Still working on other projects but really wanted to get something out for Halloween! This was for @witchywithwhiskey’s Horror Movie Hoe-a-thon! the prompts I picked were Scream and “I’m your boyfriend now” Hope you all enjoy!!!! Thanks for reading, I’d love your feedback! Reblogs and comments are love <3

1993. A sleepy suburban town, where nothing exciting ever happens. Friday night.

Your friends were all going out to Wanda’s party, but you were stuck housesitting for your aunt. Your mom had promised you would house sit weeks ago, so you couldn’t get off the hook. It was a big empty house, more rooms than your aunt could ever need. Most were filled up with storage and dust bunnies.

You tried to make the best of the boring night-in. You rented some Meg Ryan movies with plans to completely veg out. You ordered an extra large pizza with all of your favorite toppings and raided your aunts pantry for snacks.

You glanced down at your shirt and saw red. Pizza sauce! Blooming red circle right in the center of your cream sweater. You let out a huff of frustration. Some Friday night.

You changed into comfy nightwear--a baby blue cotton gown that brushed the very top of your knees, along with a pair of fluffy bunny slippers for good measure. You settled back down in front of the TV.

RING. RING. RING.

You picked up the phone, squeezing it between your ear and shoulder as you carried your snacks over to the kitchen.

“Hello,” you used your best fake customer service voice. Your aunt had asked you to take down any messages. She must have a new boyfriend she was hoping would call. You wait for a response but all you can hear is low breaths through the receiver. “Hello?” You try again

“Is this Sidney?” The voice was weirdly distorted and hard to place. It was deep, clearly a man’s voice.

“Sorry, wrong number dude.” You hung up before he could let another word out. You set the phone down by the cradle and go back to making your snacks. You got out the big popcorn bowl.

The phone rang out again. “Hello?” You answered. You really hadn’t expected to be fielding this many phone calls.

“Hey. Did I call you earlier?” It was the same strange voice. You blew some air through your lips, how annoying.

“Sidney’s not here. Have a good night--”

“Aw man. She must have given me a fake number. I don’t mean to bother you over and over tonight.” He sighed, sounding very apologetic.

“No worries. Have a good night.”

“Wait, wait. I like the sound of your voice.”

You paused. Was it totally weird to just chat with this guy? Yeah. But what harm could it be? You felt a bit of a flutter in your stomach. You never had talked to a stranger over the phone like this. It felt clandestine! You decided to go with it.

“Better than Sidney’s?” You asked, trying to make your voice sound as flirty as possible. You heard him hum approval.

“Much better than…let’s not talk about her. What are you doing tonight?” There was something very familiar about his voice. There was a crackle and static that made it so you couldn’t quite make it out. It must be a shitty connection.

“I was having a movie night. I’m making some snacks right now.” You started to curl the phone cord around your finger.

“What are you watching, Pumpkin? Something scary?”

“No way. I hate scary movies.”

“Especially not when you’re alone right?”

“Uh - um - I’m not alone. Actually.” You lied. How did he know you were alone? Was he just guessing?

“Scary movies are always scarier when you’re all alone, in a big empty house, that’s in the middle of nowhere,” he continued.

A shiver went down your spine. That was a bit too accurate. But there's no way he could possibly know where you were. It was a phone call!

“I just don’t like them. It's either some creepy slasher stabbing some big boobed blonde through her white t-shirt or a ghost that's a metaphor for trauma. No thank you,” you sighed.

“I think you’re being a little hard on them. Maybe if you watched them with a guy to cling to you’d like them more. Do you have a boyfriend?”

There it was. Obviously the alone comment was him trying to set the mood.

“Why do you want to know? Already over Sidney?” You teased him.

“Answer the question.” He was very serious. You didn’t like the tone he had.

“Yes, I do. Are you going to hang up?” You lied again, trying to call his bluff.

“You don’t have a boyfriend. What are you wearing? Something cute and virginal? What about your underwear?” You pulled the phone away from your ear in shock. You were officially too skeeved out. This wasn’t some poor guy who got slipped a fake number. He was a weirdo!

“Ok perv, I’m over this. Bye.”

“I wouldn’t hang up Y/N.” His voice was suddenly hostile. He spat each syllable out filled with hatred. Your blood ran cold. Your heart started to race. How would he possibly know your name?

“Is this a prank? Not very funny. Is this you Tony?” Your voice shook with fear.

“Who’s Tony? That your boyfriend?” He snarled.

“This is a really bad joke. Did someone put you up to this? Scott? Knock it off now!”

“Jesus you’ve got a lot of men in your life. Are you trying to make me jealous or something? I don’t like sharing.”

“I’m serious, this is a bad joke, so just give it up already.” You cried out, you looked around, making sure you were still totally alone.

“I don’t give up so easily. Do you, Pumpkin? Do you give it up to any guy who looks in your direction? I bet you do, you slut. That's why you're talking to a guy you don’t know while you’re all alone.”

“I’m hanging up, I already told you I’m not alone. My boyfriend is here! He’s big and he plays football. S-so don’t call back ok?” You tried to sound as forceful as possible but your lips wobbled and you tripped over your words.

“Pumpkin, you’re lying to me. You’re all alone in that big house in the middle of nowhere, wearing that skanky nightgown. I can see your nipples poking through this whole time. You’re so turned on by a psycho on the phone, huh?”

You let out a scream. You slammed the phone down, hanging it up. You started to spin a circle looking at all the windows, trying to see if you could see somebody watching you. You ran to the front door to make sure they were locked. You went window by window locking them and shutting the curtains. You took a chair from the kitchen and dragged it in front of the door, jamming it beneath the door knob.

RING RING RING RING

You looked around, trying to remember where all of the doors were in the house. You spun around running to the kitchen entrance. You double checked the lock and put the chain on the door. You slid down the door with your back pressing against it trying to catch your breath.

This wasn’t real. This had to be some fucked up prank. The guys were all too hyped up for Halloween and wanted to get a scare out of you. The ringing stopped and you heard the voicemail click, your aunt's outgoing message began to play.

“You screening your calls, skank? You’re gonna die, you little whore! I’m gonna see what your insides look like --” You picked up the phone just to end the message and slammed it back down. As you scampered away it fell down, swinging from the cord. You take off up the stairs, stumbling up the stairs.

You dash into the guest room you had been staying in. You quickly locked the door. Your hands were shaking still. How was this happening?

The window started to jiggle. You could hear the groaning old wood start to slide. With nothing better to arm yourself with you grabbed a pillow and started to wildly smack the intruder with all you could.

“Whoa whoa whoa, it’s me -- it’s me!” Bucky Barnes, your classmate, was gripping the window sill, flabbergasted from the pillow. You hadn’t even had time to register who it was before you attacked.

“Bucky? What the fuck are you doing here?” You demanded. This proved to you it had to be some kind of a prank. Why else would Bucky Barnes, the moody guy from your film class be climbing up to your room.

“Well, when you said you were busy tonight I thought I could just surprise you? Like a grand romantic gesture or something? Can you um, let me in? It's actually kind of cold.” He was shivering out there. He looked so earnest it tugged on your heart just a bit.

You motioned for him to come in. He heaved his body up, awkwardly crawling through the tight window then falling to the ground. He sprang back up quickly, smiling at you.

“Is this a prank? Are you in on this with the other guys or something?” You crossed your arms.

“Um, other guys? Are there other guys here? I thought I was being original.” He peered around you as if to look for them. You rolled your eyes.

“The phone calls Bucky. I’m not joking around.”

“What phone calls? I’ve been driving all night to get here from campus, then shimmying up some ivy. Haven’t exactly had any time to stop at a payphone. You know what. This was a bad idea, I can see that, I’ll just leave.” He sheepishly put his hands in his pockets as he crouched down to leave the way he came.

“No, no wait!” You grabbed him, keeping him from going outside. If it wasn’t Bucky then there was still a psycho out there! “I don’t know what's going on, but this weird guy kept calling me, and he was watching me! Like I think he was outside the house or something.”

“Calm down, calm down. I was just outside. There's nobody out there. It was probably just a prank call.”

He started to rub your back with slow soothing circles. It was intimate in a way you weren’t used to from Bucky. He was the quiet one, never really hung out unless Steve was around. His palm pressed into your lower back, holding you closer to him. His other hand cupped the back of your head, guiding you into the crook of his neck.

“You’re getting so worked up. Maybe you should just lie down.” He shushed you as you tried desperately to explain it wasn’t a prank call. He guided the two of you down to the bed. He laid down next to you.

“Bucky…why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you, I thought you knew…isn’t it obvious how I feel about you?”

Your head was spinning. Bucky liked you? He barely even talked to you! When he casually asked if you were going to Wanda’s party you assumed it was just small talk. He had grunted and left the second you told him you were busy.

“I think I should call the cops about this--”

“I’m here aren’t I? I’ll keep you safe.” His lips connected with yours silencing you from responding. His kiss was eager, but still so gentle. He slowly moved his lips against yours, basking in the taste of you. He took his time and slowly you could feel his tongue ghosts against your bottom lip, looking for entrance.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, the shock, or maybe Bucky was just an extremely good kisser, but you quickly fell under the spell of the kiss. You let yourself get lost kissing him, trying to forget the phone call prankster that had been terrorizing you.

Fear was still racking through your body, but Bucky felt safe. You tangled your hands in his hair bringing him closer. His hand slowly traced up and down your leg. Both his hands grasped your legs, essentially pinning you down. You felt a cool air waft over your thighs as his fingers gently crept beneath your nightgown.

He cupped you over your underwear, grabbing the elastic and letting it snap back against your skin. You finally broke free of the kiss to gasp. He sat back on his ankles, his hand still toying with your panties.

“Bucky, I--”

“Shhh it's ok. I’m here to save the day. No one's gonna hurt you while I’m around.” He pushed aside your panties and started to slowly circle your clit. You whined as he circles you again and again, the pleasure rushing through you and pushing every thought of terror out of your brain.

He pressed his thumb against your clit and dipped his fingers inside of you. He curled his fingers, dragging more moans out of you. As he fucked you with his fingers, you tilted your hips up for more delicious friction.

“That's it my brave girl, Bucky’s here for you,” he murmured above you. He spoke with such hard conviction. His eyes were intensely boring into yours, nearly unblinking. He was no longer softly in the throws of passion. He was a man on a mission.

He kept pumping his fingers, he brought his other hand up from your leg to palm himself through his jeans. He groaned as he adjusted himself and went back to work on you. His other hand circling around your inner thigh, moving your leg up to his shoulder.

“Bucky, please, please,” you babbled as the pleasure began to mount and mount. It was nearly unbearable as you chased your release, grinding your hips up and down on his hand, riding his fingers towards that sweet relief.

“Yes, you’re doing so well, you’re perfect.” He brought his lips to your neck and began to suck at your sensitive spot. You let out a cry of pleasure as your climax flowed over you. You clamped your legs together, biting down on your lip as another cry came out.

You took a moment to catch your breath, Bucky was still nibbling on your neck. You grabbed his face and brought his lips back to yours. He eagerly responded, his lips enveloping yours.

You grabbed the underwear that you were still wearing and rolled it down your body to fling them off. You sat up and grabbed at Bucky until you found his belt. You fumbled, trying to unbuckle it. Bucky's hands quickly found yours and he brought them together, kissing both your palms. He unbuckled the belt on his own. Removing it without ceremony or flourish. He then yanked his jeans and underwear down.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

“I want you so badly, Bucky,” you moaned.

He let out a strangled gasp that turned to laughter. You tilted your head at the reaction. He didn’t sound exactly happy, it was more sinister.

“I just have waited so long to hear you say that to me. I’m so happy right now,” he nearly giggled. He giddily took off his jacket, tossing it to the ground.

“Keep me distracted Bucky, ok?” You asked as you hitch your nightgown up to your waist.

“Oh yes, anything for you, Pumpkin.” He had a devilish smirk on his face as he pressed his lips to your navel, slowly kissing his way up. He grabbed your nightgown and finished taking it off. Tossed it to the side with the pile of his clothes.

He made his way up your abdomen before groping your chest with a satisfied hiss. He squeezed you roughly, making you squeak. He latched his lips onto your breast. You let out a gasp as he lightly bit down. He tended thoroughly to each breast, his wicked tongue teasing at your pebbled nipples until you were a moaning puddle.

He grasped his cock, stroking it a few times before guiding it to your folds. He brushed the head of his cock up and down your cunt, teasing it out. He pressed his forehead against yours.

“You really mean it, right? You want me?” he asked desperately.

“Yes --” Before another word could escape your lips, he entered you. His whole body shivered. He thrust the tip of his head in, easing in and out until he was fully sheathed inside of you. You moaned as the stretch burned in pleasure and pain.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he moaned, the pace he had set was blistering. You gripped his shoulders to keep yourself anchored as he hammered into you. “You’re so tight, so tight fuuuck me.”

He thrust over and over, using the heel of his hand to keep working at your clit. You scratched your hands down his back as his pumps kept hitting the perfect spot. It was torturous pleasure as he kept working up and down your clit, not giving you a moment of respite.

You came again, your body seizing up as you cried out and then falling limp, boneless back down to the bed. Bucky grabbed your hips, pulling your lower body off the bed as he raced for his own release. The slapping sounds of your bodies filled the room along with his deep, gutural breaths.

“Yes, yes, you’re mine, you’re mine, I finally have you, finally, finally…” he babbled as he slowed his pace as he fucked out his climax.

XXX

You curled next to Bucky in the big fluffy guest bed. Both of you were happily satisfied. All thoughts of strangers on the phone were gone from your head. Now it was filled with what just happened.

Hooking up with Bucky? You’d never considered it before. You weren’t sure why, he was so very cute, you thought as you gazed at his face. His eyes were dreamily staring back at you, that big smile had not left his face yet.

“So if you want to like, hang out, I have snacks and movies. We can go curl up on the couch and just completely let our brains rot.” You traced tiny circles on his chest, feeling pretty confident he’d want to stick around.

“I’d be down for a little romcom night, as long as you’re there.” He affectionately tapped your nose.

“Good because that's all I’ve got!”

The two of you got back into a semblance of your outfits, you pulled your nightgown back on, and Bucky pulled on his boxers and the white undershirt he was wearing. You snagged his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. He hummed his approval and kissed you on the cheek.

You grabbed him by the hand and pulled him along down the stairs.

“You can go grab the popcorn, I’ll put the tapes in.” You directed Bucky towards the kitchen as you made your way towards the living room.

You pass the chairs jammed in front of the doors, and you remember your panic.

You shuddered--what a mean prank to pull. What kind of psycho talks to people like that?

You slipped your arms into Bucky's jacket to wrap yourself in it. It smelled sharp and sweet from his body wash and cologne blending together. You stuck your hands in the pockets, only to feel something heavy and tube shaped. You pulled it out, curious, turning it over in your hands a few times to investigate.

It was a long cylindrical looking microphone. You assumed it was some sort of film equipment, but why would Bucky bring that along?

“Hello?” You spoke into the mic. But instead of your own voice, the same distorted, crackling voice from the phone came out.

You dropped it. It was like a hot iron in your hand.

You realized Bucky must have heard you too. Your head snapped towards the kitchen. He was walking slowly towards you, a huge chef’s knife from the kitchen was now in his hands.

“Bucky what the hell is this?” You asked, slowly backing away from him.

“I…can explain.” His grip on the knife tightened and he raised his hands in the air as if in surender, never slowing his pace towards you.

“No, I think you need to leave.” You covered your body with your arms, trying not to trip over the furniture.

“No, no, no you’re misunderstanding --” He was getting closer to you, he reached his arms out to try and grab you.

“Leave me alone!” You screamed out as you broke into a run. You made a mad dash to the front door. Bucky was close behind you.

“I’m not going to hurt you!” He cried out as you fumbled with all the locks. Your hands were shaking, you tried to remove the chain from the door but it wasn’t moving fast enough.

Bucky's arm wrapped around your waist and yanked your body into his. His hard bulge poked at your ass.

“No!!” you cried out as you started to thrash around. You quickly stilled as the sharp point of the knife began to dig into your throat.

“Let’s calm down ok. I think you’re getting too worked up again.”

“B-Bucky, just say that it’s a prank. This was all a big prank. I won’t tell anyone. Just put the knife down please.” You try desperately to reason with him. He lets out an unamused grunt.

He began to drag you away from the door. You strained your neck as far as you could to keep the pressure from the knife as minimal as possible.

“You weren’t supposed to find out. Now it’s all ruined. Fuck. Fuuuck!” He growled. Clearly enraged he started to grapple you down to the floor.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You whimpered, tears oozing from the corners of your eyes. Rolling down your cheeks in huge streaks.

“You don’t get it. You never noticed me. All I wanted was for you to notice me. I just had to grease the wheels a little bit, put on a show to make you see…that I’m the guy for you.” He looked crazed. He moved the knife from your neck to your cheek. He caressed it against your cheeks like a lover's hand.

“Bucky please…put down the knife.”

“You’re misunderstanding me, you’re trying to run away! That’s why I have the knife because you need to listen to me. You always listen to the guy with the biggest tool in the room huh? You thought I was Tony. Does he call you up at night a lot or something? Huh?!”

You were just whimpering as he ranted above you. The blunt side of the knife was pressed against your cheek, the shiny metal reflecting into your eyes.

“Well you don’t have to worry about him anymore.” The look in Bucky’s eyes was primal, like he was no longer a man. The charming smile from before was now warped and too large, his lips curling to show his teeth and gums.

“You’re scaring me. Please don’t hurt me!”

“Hurt you? I would never.” He said, not moving the knife from your face. “I’m your boyfriend now. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you again.”

He brought the knife down from your cheek slowly, the sharp tip dragging down your neck. He began to slice the top button off your nightgown.

“Now, you made such beautiful noises for me before. Let me hear you scream, Pumpkin.”

#horrormoviehoeathon #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #scream au #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x reader #yandere bucky barnes #let me hear you scream #halloween fics #witchywithwhiskey #one shot #marvel fanfiction #buck barnes fanfic #ghostface bucky barnes #banner by cafekitsune

715 notes · View notes

lipstickmarks · 7 months

Text

Steven to the Rescue

Pairing: Steven Grant x fem!reader Category: Hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic fluff Warnings: none Content: Hurt/comfort, fluff, domestic fluff, kissing, making out in public, reader has a terrible horrible no good very bad week and steven is there for her, Steven’s love languages are acts of service and physical touch, reader getting princess treatment, reader is kinda corporate girlie coded, steven being smooth, steven can cook, steven might be slightly ooc bc he is my silly putty and i am bending him to my will

Steven loved his job. He loved going into work everyday to consume any and all things related to egyptology. It’s what makes him able to withstand the abuse from Donna– which is lessened now that he’s been promoted to tour guide and she technically isn’t his supervisor anymore. But today, he simply does not want to go.

He’s been watching you pace around his kitchen nervously for the past five minutes, checking your phone, watch, and laptop in quick succession. It had been… a less than stellar week for you.

Firstly, your job has been stressing you out by offloading duties onto you that weren’t in your job description because someone else had quit unexpectedly. Then, there was an error with your bank and your paycheck wasn’t deposited so you had to wait an extra 3 days to pay your bills. On top of it all, your phone service provider was having some sort of nationwide glitch so you barely had any service.

Not only did you have twice the workload but you weren’t getting any of your work emails on time. Plus, you had to be in constant contact with the bank to sort out their issue. It’s why you’d come over to Steven’s flat before work, to use his internet and hopefully get a better signal. Plus, you two wanted to see each other.

Steven had made some cranberry muffins and vegan egg bites for the two of you but your plate remained untouched while you paced around, waiting for a bar.

“Love,” Steven murmured, reaching out to grab your elbow. You looked up from the laptop you were cradling in your arms and Steven nearly sighed out loud at the sight of your eyes. Beautiful, but so so tired. The universe has been running his favorite person ragged and it hurt him to see you so downtrodden by life. “You really should eat something before work.”

You sighed and sat down your devices, trading them for a muffin. Steven cracked a smile at how your demeanor visibly changed once you took a bite. You always swore Steven put some kind of happy elixir into his food because it never failed to bring your spirits up. You gobbled up one muffin and reached for another.

“Thank you for breakfast.”

Steven leaned over and kissed the side of your forehead.

“You’re welcome, darling. Hate to see you so out of sorts.”

With you finally eating, Steven finished getting dressed. He had to go into work earlier than you did so he let you stay and finish doing what you needed to do. Before he left, he wrapped his arms around you and gave you a soft kiss.

“I’m off then, darling. You’ll be okay here?”

You gave him a reassuring nod as you swallowed a bite.

“Yeah, I’m gonna finish up in a little bit. I have a feeling today is going to be better.”

Steven beamed at you. He kissed you once, twice, three times and he knew if we went for a fourth, he’d cave and stay home with you.

“Right, I’d better get going before I lose my job again.” But Steven made no move to leave. He was staring at you with that dreamy look, the one that had been perpetually fixed on his face ever since you two started dating two months ago. Steven was the perfect boyfriend. Gentle, thoughtful, and he adored you so much.

“Go,” You told him. “I’ll be fine, really.”

Steven gave you one last squeeze before walking out the door.

—----------

Steven was finishing up a tour with a school field trip and he was buzzing from how well it went. Usually, preteens were their own unique breed of nasty– making inappropriate noises, laughing obnoxiously, and just generally being awful but a boy and girl had been asking tons of insightful questions, spurring Steven on and letting him flex his breadth of knowledge. And if there was any snark, the teacher shut it down expeditiously so Steven could continue.

It was probably the best tour he’d given since he started working there.

Plus, earlier in the morning, the curator had pulled him aside and said they were looking for someone to give virtual tours that they could record and post online. If he got it, it would mean a pay bump and more benefits.

Things were finally going his way!

The group was just starting to shuffle off for lunch when Steven spotted you, standing off to the side of the museum entrance. His whole face broke out into a grin and his heart skipped a beat, but that elation faded when he saw your eyes.

You had been crying.

As soon as everyone was gone, Steven crossed the room to you. You both reached for each other. His hands fell to your hips and you clutched his bicep.

“Love, what’s happened?”

You tried to smile but your eyes were bloodshot and puffy. You were holding back tears and you looked like you were on the precipice of a complete breakdown. Like if someone pricked you with a sewing needle, you’d pop.

When you spoke, it came out small and broken.

“I tried to call you but my phone—” Your voice died on the word and Steven’s grip tightened around you.

“Darling?”

“I came to ask for a favor. My apartment… they called me while I was at work. A pipe burst.” Your lip quivered. “All my stuff is ruined.”

Steven’s eyes widened.

“No.”

You nodded, fat tears spilling down your cheeks.

“They said it’s gonna take three weeks to fix it.” You started wringing your hands nervously and took a steadying breath before you spoke again. “I was hoping I could stay with you.”

Steven’s answer is an immediate yes.

“Absolutely, love. Anything you need.”

He couldn’t stand it anymore and he pulled you into a tight hug. Your head fell lamely against his chest and he felt your tears soaking through his shirt but he didn’t mind. Not one bit. You peered up at him, face hot and flushed with tears.

“You’re sure it won’t be a problem? We haven’t been dating that long and I don’t want it to be…” You floundered, searching for the right word but Steven knew exactly what you meant. He caught your hand with his and brought it up to kiss the back of it.

“It won’t be. It'll be like a slumber party, yeah? We’ll bake cookies and watch films. It’ll be fun.”

You nodded but Steven could tell you weren’t convinced. After the week you’d been having, what reason did you have to believe anything else was going to go right for you? You looked like you were a single moment away from shattering entirely.

“Do you want to leave now? I can take the rest of the day off. I can find someone to cover my afternoon tours.”

You shook your head and wiped your eyes.

“No. No, I have to go back to work. We have an important meeting.” You sniffed. Steven’s heart broke seeing you like this. You just looked so defeated.

Steven thought hard for a moment. How could he make this better for you? How could he lighten your load?

“How about this? I’ll pick you up after work. We’ll stop by your flat and get anything we need and then we’ll go back to mine, hm?” He brushed the falling hair out of your eyes. “We’ll get a takeaway, watch your favorite show, I’ll even let you braid my hair if you like.”

You chuckled a bit.

“Can we get dessert?”

Steven kissed your forehead.

“Anything you want, love.”

You nodded and a genuine smile returned to your face.

“Alright, well I better get back. I’m on my lunch break and it’s gonna take me 15 minutes to get back across town.”

Steven stopped you before you could leave.

“Darling, have you eaten lunch?”

You looked sheepish when you shook your head. Steven wouldn’t be having that. Wordlessly, he laced your fingertips with his and lead you down to the employee lockers. He opened up his where the only contents were a book of Egyptology, his spare glasses, a Tawaret funko pop, his lunch box, and a picture of you taped to the inside.

He pulled out his lunchbox and placed it in your arms.

“Steven, no.” You gasped. “I can’t take your lunch.”

You took his lunch.

No matter how much protesting you did, Steven insisted, waving off your concerns with a promise that he would get something from a food truck at lunch. He hailed a taxi for you before you could argue any further.

“Steven, I don’t have cab fare.” You said with wide eyes as the taxi pulled up. “Remember? My bank–”

He pulled out his own wallet and handed the driver his bank card.

“Can’t have my beautiful girlfriend going across town on public transport. Someone might steal you away from me.”

You flushed. Your stomach was doing happy flips from feeling so taken care of. Steven took his card back from the driver and tucked it away. You were full on crying now as you wrapped your arms around him and weeped into his chest.

“It’s alright, love.” He murmured in your ear.

You pulled back to kiss him. It was eager and much too sloppy to do in broad daylight on the steps of his place of work but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Thank you for going to all this trouble for me.” You mumbled as you pulled away.

“It’s no trouble at all, love.” He opened up the cab food for you and didn’t shut it until you were inside. “I’ll pick you up at your office at the end of the day, okay?”

You nodded and Steven leaned his head through the window to give you one last kiss.

“Last chance to play hooky with me for the rest of the day?”

You giggled and shook your head.

“Tempting, but no. I’ve got to go be a grownup.”

Steven smiled at you and mouthed a silent “okay.” He stepped back onto the curb and once the road was clear, your cab pulled out into the street.

Once Steven was out of view, you opened up his lunchbox. He had a habit of overpacking in case he was stuck on the bus for a while and needed a snack, which came in handry because you were starving. You ate his sandwich, chips, soda, half a bag of grapes, and a cookie.

At a red light, your driver turned back to you.

“Your boyfriend is so sweet!” She swooned.

“You don’t know the half of it.” You giggled. “This is his lunch.”

She gasped.

“Shut up! That is so cute! Oh my gosh, you’re so lucky.”

You grinned.

“Yeah. I am.”

—-----------

The rest of the afternoon went painfully slow for you.Thankfully, you got so busy with work that you temporarily forgot you were broke, without a phone, and temporarily homeless.

When it was finally time to go, you headed toward the front desk, intending to use the landline to call Steven but when you stepped into the hall, he was already there. You had to do a double take at first because you thought you might have been dreaming or seeing things. But no, this was real life.

Steven Grant, your nerdy, sweet, perfect boyfriend was chatting to your office receptionist with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“I never realized the museum was free! I always thought it cost money, that’s why I haven’t brought my kids.” The receptionist said, embroiled in a conversation with Steven.

“Loads of people think that, actually but yeah it’s free entry. It only costs money for tours. Though, if you’re bringing your little ones, I can’t recommend the tours enough. You get loads of extra information that just reading the pamphlets won’t give you. Not to toot my own horn but I give a pretty educational tour if I do say so myself.” Steven said with a relaxed smile. Ever since he’d been promoted to tour guide, he’s been so much more sure of himself. He’s still the goofy, sweet, bumbling nerd he always has been but the constant exposure to his passion has cushioned him in a cozy little bubble of Egyptology, vegan baking, and you. How could he not feel content?

“I think I’ll take them next weekend.” The receptionist said as you arrived at the desk. “I’d like a tour with you as well.” She looked up from scribbling the museum information on a Post-It note and saw you. “Oh, here you are, darling! Does this sweet man belong to you?”

Just as she asked, Steven held out the bouquet to you. Red roses, pink tulips, white calla lilies, and some hydrangeas to fill it out.

“He does.” Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. You took the bouquet from Steven and smelled the flowers. Steven gently pulled your purse strap off of your shoulder and took his lunch box out of your hands, holding them both and holding his free hand out for you.

“Are you ready, love? The cab’s waiting.”

Do not cry. Do not cry in your place of work. Do not cry because your boyfriend is being so sweet and you’ve never felt this cared for in your life.

To avoid your voice coming out high and squeaky, you nodded and took his outstretched hand. Bidding goodbye to the receptionist, he led you out the doors and into the cab, leading you home.

*****

It feels strange.

You’re not sure why. You’ve spent the night at Steven’s flat before, had dinner, read books, spent all night in his bed, but this felt different.

You were standing in Steven’s bathroom, hair damp from your shower. The second you got back to his flat, you’d made a beeline to the shower, eager to scrub all of your misfortune off. And you felt so strange, so out of place.

It was a little more intimate knowing that you’d be here for three entire weeks, which put a decent amount of pressure on a fairly new relationship. You and Steven would be seeing each other in undesirable states, have to give each other space, and somehow maintain the dynamic of your relationship despite these new circumstances.

You unloaded the grocery bag of toiletries that you picked up from your flat on the way here. Thankfully your hygiene essentials and skincare weren’t damaged. The same couldn’t be said for your clothes, though.

At least it was the weekend and you didn’t have to worry about outfits for work. You could just lounge around in the sweater and boxers Steven had given you, or nothing if you preferred. Steven certainly wouldn’t mind.

“Love?” Steven’s voice came through the bathroom door. “The food just got here. I’ll queue up a movie for us.”

“Alright.” You called out. “Be out in a minute.”

“Take your time, darling.”

What on Earth did you do to deserve that wonderful, wonderful man?

After changing, you stepped out into the living room where Steven had arranged the takeout boxes, poured you a glass of wine, and queued up “Tangled” on the TV.

“Steven…” You plopped down on the couch next to him. “We could’ve cooked, you didn’t have to order out for me. I don’t want you going to any trouble for me.”

Steven looked at you with a glimmer in his eyes that only love could be the catalyst for. He took your chin between his fingers and angled your face to meet his lips in a sweet, slow kiss.

“Darling, why would it be any trouble to care for you?”

And just like that, as quickly as a match burns out, all of your anxieties and apprehension faded away. You didn’t feel out of place in Steven’s flat or mistreated by the universe. Here, in Steven’s arms, you only felt loved.

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #moon knight #mr. knight #marvel #steven grant x you #oscar isaac #steven grant imagine #steven grant fanfiction

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mcdonaldsnumberone · 11 months

Text

HAPPY!

green flag traits of "red flag" men inspired by @aesterblaster’s cute kaiser snippet <3 gender neutral reader

if you enjoyed reading this fic, please consider donating to providing aid in palestine!

BAROU SHOUEI!

constantly takes care of you!

Barou isn’t exactly well-known for being an agreeable man, but everyone in the Blue Lock program knows how strict he is with maintaining not only himself but the environment around him. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he cares for you deeply and does what he can to make sure you’re eating your meals properly and making sure your living quarters are taken care of. Even if you invite him over to your place for a casual date, Barou refuses to sit still until all of your laundry is taken care of and he’s cooked up a nice snack for you. You love joking about how he’s essentially like a husband to you, although Barou will simply grumble at you to take better care of yourself, even if the thought does make him blush a little. He doesn’t mind cleaning up after you, especially if it means making you feel more comfortable, but he’ll still give you an earful when he catches you eating cookies on your bed.

“What would you even do without me?” Barou grumbles, scrubbing at the dishes in your sink with a renewed fury. “I swear, I leave for a few weeks to deal with a season, and I come back to you living as if your parents never taught you any manners.”

“I had a handful of dirty dishes in the sink. A handful,” you reply, waiting for your boyfriend to wrap up your chores and join you on the couch. “That I didn’t bother to do because I was getting ready in the morning. And you can leave them where they are, Sho. You don’t have to do my work for me.”

Barou frowns, but he doesn’t let go of the dishes. You always make it very clear that he’s not obligated to do any of your dirty work for you, but despite all the chastising he might do, Barou always insists on doing it anyway. You know it’s his way of showing his love for you—lots of heartfelt acts of service to lift even a little bit of the burden off of your shoulders. Even if you tease him for being a softie that would do anything at your beck and call, you’re awfully grateful to have a boyfriend that doesn’t mind picking up after you every now and then.

He places the last dish onto the drying rack and wipes his hands on a kitchen towel, and you reach towards him as he makes his way to you and sits down on the couch. He takes you into his arms, and you cuddle up against his side, grinning up at him like the Cheshire Cat.

“Thanks for doing my dishes for me. Again.” You sneak a kiss onto his cheek as he hums slightly, his face as austere as ever. He’s secretly enjoying this charade though: you can feel the way his hands tighten against your body and the way he melts ever-so-slightly towards the warmth of your body.

“Don’t get used to it,” he grumbles, knowing all too well that you have gotten too used to his pampering and that he would do it again in a heartbeat. “I’m not your maid.”

“Nope, you aren’t.” You pinch his cheek. “You’re something even better! You’re my boyfriend!”

ITOSHI SAE!

horrendously loyal to you!

Sae quite literally knows nothing about the world outside of his life with soccer, so when he first fell for you, he felt less like the soccer prodigy the world had its eyes on and more like a horribly inadequate boyfriend fumbling around to impress you. You’ve been nothing but understanding, but he feels bad that he has nothing but his utter devotion to offer you. You have no issues with it, and Sae finds more and more creative ways to remind you that he really has no one but you. He never says it directly to your face that he’d rather die than have you leave him, but it’s in the way he refuses to let go of your hand when you’re together or how he sends pictures of any and all wedding boutiques he runs across with a not-so-subtle text saying how it's perfect for the two of you. Sae knows it’s way too early to even entertain the thought of marriage, but how can he not, when he’s convinced that you’re his soulmate?

Sae’s grown to enjoy the quiet things in life. He’s never been too big of a fan of the loudness that came with his successful career. Frankly speaking, he could always do without the invasive interviews, the blinding flashes of paparazzi, the frenzy-mongering journalists twisting his words and actions for more clicks on their content.

Instead he’s found joy in you. There’s the way you make him laugh, your dumb jokes managing to wrench a giggle out of him. It’s the way you urge him to try out the new dessert menu out on a cafe date together, or how you beg him to pleeeeeeease buy a matching set of keychains with his big boy soccer player salary. Sae still has it hanging from his practice bag, and when Aiku found out about it, the captain teased him so badly that the entire team had to hold him back from yanking Aiku’s facial hair out.

Today is nothing special yet it’s Sae’s entire world. You’re fresh out of the shower, skin still a bit moist from the water, and you’re absentmindedly scrolling on your phone next to Sae in bed. Your attention isn’t even on him, distracted by whatever video you’re watching, yet Sae’s heart swells with so much affection that it’s almost suffocating. He wants to tell you he loves you until his voice gives out, but he knows being too brazen will scare you away. Knowing how to act like a normal boy his age has never been his strong suit, so until the day he can arrives, he settles for squeezing your shoulder and craning his neck to see what you’re watching.

“Look, Sae!” You hold up the phone, revealing two cats cuddling on your screen. “It’s literally us! You’re the grumpy looking cat right here!”

He scoffs, but his stomach does a backflip when you giggle, saving the video to your camera roll. Sae knows he doesn’t deserve you, not when you deserve someone much softer and kinder and more gentlemanly rather than the awkward boy he is. But it’s these moments that remind you how much you love him too, and inadequacy be damned, Sae will fight tooth and nail to cherish these shared moments with you.

OLIVER AIKU!

keeps the charm in your relationship!

There’s no denying that Oliver does have a flirtatious streak, and it took a lot of trying on his part to prove his loyalty to you. But as much as you hate to admit it, Oliver is also the kind of boyfriend that knows how to keep the flame in your relationship alive. Underneath the playboy casanova act is a hopeless romantic that loves sweeping you away and showering you with the kind of affection that would leave anyone swooning in their place. He’s the sort of boyfriend that’ll randomly pull you in for a dance while you’re making dinner together in the kitchen or try to serenade you outside your window horribly, only to end up pissing off your neighbors. Even the slow moments are just as entertaining, and Oliver knows how to keep you on your toes. A relationship with him is fun, first and foremost, and he’ll do whatever he can to keep you smiling.

It’s been one of those kinds of days. The ones where everything seems to go against you. Your clothes don’t look good, you keep tripping over your own feet, and nothing at work or school seems to work out for you. You’re down in the dumps and frankly ready to just curl up in bed to rot away for the rest of the day, so finally being able to go back home sounds like the trumpets at the gates of Heaven.

You practically slam your front door open and hurl your bag onto the couch, letting out a loud groan before nearly collapsing into a heap on the floor. You can hear a pair of soft footsteps pad out towards where you are, and you don’t need to look up to know that it’s your boyfriend.

“Woah there, sugar,” his deep voice sounds from above you, “Everything alright? No beautiful smile for me today?”

You shake your head, stifling another groan. “It’s been a long day, Oli. I’d smile at you if I had anything to smile about.”

“You’ve got me to smile for,” Oliver murmurs. It earns him a long glare from you, and he shoots an apologetic smile in surrender. You let your head sink back onto the floor, but Oliver pads over to where his car keys are, grabbing his jacket before heading back to you.

“How about we go for a quick run then? I’ll get you a few treats: McDonald’s, some candy and drinks, all my treat,” he offers. Your ears perk up at the offer, and Oliver grins, seeing you twitch. “I’ll even let you have aux this time so you can play whatever ear-rotting songs you want to listen to. “

“Even CBAT?”

He rolls his eyes when you peel your face off of the floor, looking at him with such sparkling eyes that he wouldn’t have guessed that this was the same person that came home with a storm cloud above their head. “...Fine. Even CBAT, if that’s what’ll cheer my angel up. Quit moping and get back on your feet. I’m not carrying you all the way to the car.”

“Boo,” you pretend to pout, but you eventually pick yourself up. Oliver offers you a hand for you to cling to, and before you know it, your mood is lifted and you’re driving off with your boyfriend off into the sunset.

MICHAEL KAISER!

makes it so clear that he’s obsessed with you!

If there is one word to describe how Kaiser is with you, it’s smitten. It’s hard to believe at first: the New Generation 11 striker, head over heels with a nobody like you? You think you’re dreaming when he first asks you out, but despite your constant doubts, Kaiser follows after you like a puppy that doesn’t know how to do anything better. While he would love to parade you around and make sure everybody knows who his heart belongs to, he takes it easy and lets you call the shots as to how extreme he can be. He’s the first thing you wake up to, always sending you a good morning call, and he’s the one fighting with you for the bill whenever you want something (spoiler alert: he always wins). It’s even in the way he holds your hand like it’s a lifeline; Kaiser’s fallen, and he’s fallen hard. He might be standoffish and selfish, but when it comes to you, he’ll do anything to make sure his feelings are known.

Kaiser crosses his arms, his pointed blue eyes leering down at you. His lips pull into a small frown, and he sighs deeply as if something’s troubling him. “You have honestly got to stop doing that.”

You blink, confused. “Stop doing what? I’m not doing anything.”

You really aren’t. You’re on your way back from the kitchen, having fixed yourself a snack. It’s one of those so-called ‘lazy days,’ where you haven’t bothered changing out of your pajamas or even washing your face for that matter. A horribly unglamorous side to show to your world-famous soccer star boyfriend, but if he had an issue with you being lazy, he should have left you a long time ago.

Kaiser’s cheeks tint into a shade of pink, and he grits his teeth. “Just… all of this! It’s bad for my heart!”

You raise an eyebrow. There’s crust all over your eyes, probably some crumbs around your mouth, and you can’t even start to talk about how disheveled you are. And yet, here you are, with Kaiser about to melt into a puddle of goo despite how awful you must look, and you have to admit, it’s quite the sight.

“Awwww, Mihya,” you tease, raising your voice to a mocking sing-song pitch. “Do you think I’m pretty? Gee, you could have just said so.”

Kaiser flushes an even deeper shade of red, burying his face into his hands. “D-Don’t phrase it like that! All I’m saying is that it’s bad for my heart to see you so casually like this! It feels so domestic, and then my stupid brain starts imagining things like living together, and- and- waking up together, and someday even getting married…”

Marriage? This certainly isn’t the first time it’s come up, and you doubt that it’ll be the last. Not that you mind though. If Kaiser’s in this much of a frenzy seeing you doing nothing, you’re going to take that as proof of how absolutely down horrendous this man is. You simply sidle up to him like the minx you are, poking at his cheeks until he’s yelping and trying to run away from you.

You chase him through the hallways, only catching him when you tackle him to the bed. His eyes are blown wide open, and his face is a brilliant shade of tomato crimson. You lean forward, grinning from ear-to-ear like a cat that’s caught its prey.

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me now. Where’s my insufferable boyfriend now?” You coo. “Pucker up, loverboy, because I’m going in for a kiss!”

if you enjoyed reading this fic, please consider donating to providing aid in palestine!

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #barou shouei #itoshi sae #oliver aiku #michael kaiser #x reader #my writing

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milf-murdock · 5 months

Note

Hi!! I love love love your writing! Especially your 141!Reader series <3 I don't know if you take requests, but your last post about Simon and baby Joseph made me so angsty and I would love to read more angst from you. Could you please write about Simon thinking 141!Reader was KIA on a mission? Thank you!!!

Anon....who....who hurt you???? I’m kidding 😆 mostly 👀 But for real, this one HURT. Like. OUCH. This man has been through so fucking much…but let’s put him through a bit more 😈😈😈 also, I did very much hurt my own feelings with this one. So I’m thinking we might need a part two reunion because I don’t know if I can leave our Ghosty boy in shambles like this

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The rain patters against the window in a steady rhythm.

Simon watches the fat raindrops roll down the small window pane, one foot anxiously tapping against the concrete floor. He didn’t know why he was called to Price’s office, but there was an ominous charge to the air. Call it a premonition, or maybe an instinct, but he knew in his bones that something was wrong.

The click of the door handle pulls Simon from his thoughts as Price enters the office, a heavy silence filling the air.

“What’s happened?” Simon's voice has a hard edge to it, cutting straight through the bullshit. Watchful eyes appraise every detail of Price’s body language, and Simon notes the deep sunken look of his captain’s eyes accentuated by a somber expression.

Price avoids Simon's gaze, staring down at the oak desktop before him as he takes a seat. The captain wasn’t one to mince words or beat around the bush, but even he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around the situation despite his many years in the service.

Simon's heart hammers in his chest, every second in the unknown feeling like an eternity. This isn’t right, he thinks to himself.

Price steels himself with a deep inhale, pulling his gaze from the desk to face Simon head on, looking past the mask, speaking to the man he knew laid beneath.

“I wanted you to hear this from me, son. You…deserve to hear this from me.”

Simon stops breathing.

With practiced determination, Price continues his speech, having rehearsed the words in his head the entire walk down to his office.

“Reconnaissance mission, Operation Blackout, suffered multiple casualties after a long-range detonation by enemy action. There’s been no contact with the team, and rescue attempts were unsuccessful due to the extensive damage caused by the explosion. All team members are presumed KIA. The official course of action…”

The rest of Price’s speech is drowned out by the dull roar in Simon’s ears; his blood runs cold, his rigid body barely breathing.

This can’t be happening. Not again. Never again.

Simon's thoughts grip him by the heart, squeezing painfully.

I can’t do this again.

He had already lost everyone once. Had built impenetrable walls, designed to protect him from this type of pain.

But you. You and your goddamn charm, and your soft smiles, and your relentless fucking attitude. You broke down those walls brick by brick, made Ghost–no, made Simon– feel more like a man than he had in years. You slipped past his ironclad defenses and took his heart without him even realizing it.

And just when he had finally opened up, just when he had finally convinced himself that maybe he could be happy–that you could be happy together. It all came crashing down.

In the distance, Ghost could hear shouting. A chorus of denials piercing the air, heavy ragged breaths filling the silence between.

A heavy hand fell on Ghost's shoulder and he found himself back in his body, looking up at Price, voice raw.

With a stark realization, Ghost realizes it was him. He was the one shouting, the one gasping for breath.

The world tilted out from under him.

____________

Ghost left Price’s office a different man–a mere shell of the man who entered. With every step he took, he felt himself slipping further and further into the familiar safety of Ghost, an unpierceable facade moving through the world.

Everything felt wrong. Every step. Every breath. He felt like he was moving underwater, every action taking twice the effort it should.

The next few hours pass in a blur. The official order that he was being sent on leave. The ensuing argument with Price over the orders. He eventually just gave up. Leave, no leave, it didn’t fucking matter.

None of it fucking matters.

Johnny tries to see him before he leaves, meeting Simon on the tarmac. He tries to be there for his lieutenant, his friend.

The red rim around Johnny’s eyes reminds Simon that he wasn’t the only one who had lost you. They had all lost you. But even that which should have been a comfort, a sort of kinship in the grief, meant nothing. Simon didn’t give a singular fuck. He turned away from Johnny mid-speech, leaving the Scotsman to sit in his grief alone as he watched Ghost disappear into the aircraft.

____________

It takes every ounce of strength Ghost has to make it through the flight. To make it through the drive back home. To make it through that door.

Keep it together, soldier. Don’t you dare fucking lose it, Simon Riley. Just a bit longer.

His belongings crash to the floor as the door slams shut behind him. He doesn’t even bother turning on the light, instead using the faint glow of the moonlight through the curtains to guide him to the cabinet.

Ghost pulls the bottle of bourbon from its resting spot, not even bothering with a glass as he pulls off the corked top and takes a hearty swig.

The burn of the liquid is invigorating, filling Ghost with a quiet simmering fire.

He takes another drink. And another.

He walks through the flat in a daze, the amber liquid dulling his senses, sending him even deeper into the haze of his grief.

Ghost finds himself in front of his dresser, staring at the wooden drawers.

Taking another drink, he steels himself as he yanks open the top drawer. Rummaging beneath the pile of socks and t-shirts, Ghost digs out the small velvet box. He grips it tight in his hand, the small object groaning in protest as waves of rage and pain overtake Ghost, threatening to pull him under. Hot tears slide down his face, but he doesn’t even notice.

With a roar he throws the velvet box across the room, the impact fracturing the drywall. Ghost’s knees go out from under him and he crashes to the floor, his heart shattering into a thousand pieces. There would be no repairing this. No amount of time could heal this type of heartbreak.

You were dead.

And as far as Ghost was concerned, Simon Riley died with you.

#y'all I'm so sorry this one HURT #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley imagine #simon “ghost” riley x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #cod ghost #ghost riley

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yuwuta · 4 months

Note

hi! this might be a bit of a vague ask, but how do you think yuuta is as a partner? like how does he treat his partner, his love language, giving & receiving affection, how a relationship with him would develop, etc. what are his guilty pleasures in a relationship? what are his favourite things to do with a partner? that kind of thing lol. i'm just in love with your yuuta so i was very curious! sorry!

hmm ok well there are basically 3 or 4 yuutas/yuuta aus that live in my head, and then like… some…. ground state version of him that is applicable to most boyfriend aus if that makes any sense 😭 idk how to explain this... but he’s got isomers that all can exist to me and then one normal version that’s just like… the core of who he is. i’m gonna stop talking about that now, but that’s all to say that the specifics of his guilty pleasures and favorite things to with his partner would depend on the au? but generally, he’s a very loyal and intimate person, so that carries through in all his thoughts and actions no matter which au it is

the love language his gives his acts of service. you want something, yuuta will get it for you or do it for you or figure out how to make it for you. he’s a yes man in the sense that he does not know how to say no to you. he’ll say yes before you can even finish detailing what it is you’re asking of him, and it stems from a few reasons.

firstly, yuuta is loyal, almost to a fault, so it doesn’t really matter what he does or who he hurts or undermines if he believes his words/actions are going to keep you safe or please you. his moral compass is skewed in the sense that he goes wherever you go, and it is about the final destination for him and not the journey; he wants to meet you where you are, and he won’t let things get in his way of getting to you.

secondly, while yuuta is very jealous, possessive, and protective where it concerns you, he also has a deep desire for you to feel the same way about him, no matter how extreme or mundane that is. he wants to be the person you ask to do favors for you, he wants you to show him that you know that he’s yours to ask, to take advantage of, to, quite literally, make all your requests come true. also he pouts if you ask someone else, and considers murder if somebody else volunteers in his place.

thirdly, there’s a bit of insecurity at play, too; yuuta puts you on a pedestal, and as such, he concretely believes that he isn’t truly worthy of you. you’re otherworldly to him, and he is just someone lucky enough to get to worship you in such proximity; so, he knows that, given the chance, anybody else would want to do the same thing, and he’ll be damned if he lets somebody else get the chance to take care of you. he knows somebody else could, so he doesn’t ever want to take the chance to let them.

this last reason kind of ties in to all the previous ones, but he also gets off on pleasing you. in the literal, sexual sense, he could cum in his pants just from fingering you or eating you out, or honestly just kissing on the right day. but also, there’s a profound sense of pride and happiness in his chest whenever he does something for you. he’s happy to have made you happy or to have lifted a little burden for you, and he’s proud of himself because he’s proven to himself once again that while he might not be the greatest or strongest or smartest person, he’s more than capable of taking care of the person he loves, and that’s more than enough for him :(( also the words “thank you” coming from you is dirty talk to him he doesn’t even know it but his praise kink goes crazy

in terms of receiving affection, maybe quality time? yuuta could force his own proximity to you if he wanted to (and sometimes, he does), but there’s a certain… joy? relief? reassurance? when you choose to spend time with him or be close to him. it’s a reminder that you want to be with him even half as much as he wants to be with you. he also strikes me as the kind of person to have a bunch of little hobbies and/or to always have some kind of errand to run, so you choosing to tag along with him, or just sit in his room with him while he studies or reads or paints or whatever makes him very happy

#anonymous #oh yuuta.... my baby my baby my baby my baby #think also gifts for his receiving love language? he doesn't get very many so he's grateful for the ones he does #especially from his loved ones and especially from you #bc it says you thought about him and you hear him when he talks about what he likes and thats just so :(( to him.#yuuta x reader #yuta x reader #yuuta.ask

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ladykailitha · 6 months

Text

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 16

Just one more chapter left, and in cased you missed it, I won't be doubling up on chapters per day this week. The last chapter will be out next week.

Doubling up really killed the numbers for these stories, half the time people were only reacting and commenting on the SECOND chapter.

But don't worry, what this means is that your favorites you've been seeing snippets of on WIP will get quicker releases this way.

In this Eddie's rut progresses as normal, they talk about Steve's status, and Eddie and Benny learn some very interesting things about golden omegas.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15

****

Eddie came to and was sure that at least a day had passed, but he looked at the clock on Steve’s nightstand and frowned. It had only been five hours since his rut had started. He looked in the wastebasket and there were only three condoms in it which fit the time frame.

He looked around, but Steve wasn’t there. He sat up and the sheet that had been covering his waist slid off. He looked down and saw that his dick was sheathed with another condom.

There was some of Steve’s slick on the sheets, but considering Eddie was still in them, he figured Steve couldn’t change them yet.

He could hear Steve humming to a beat in the kitchen and padded out there.

He smiled fondly as he watched the omega dance around his kitchen to the music in his head. Bopping and hopping as he made a wholesome snack.

“That snack looks good, baby,” he said, his alpha rumbling happily, “but I would rather eat you.”

Steve squeaked. “Eddie! You’re awake! How do you feel?”

For the first time since he woke up, he took stock of his body, really examining it.

“Warm, sated...” he said furrowing his brow, “happy?”

Steve beamed at him. “Yay! That means your rut is progressing as it should. It seems like your body is adjusting better to the low light and you’re more lucid.”

Eddie came up behind him and buried his nose into Steve’s scent gland. “All because of you, sweetness.”

Steve squawked when Eddie picked him and spun him around.

When Eddie finally put him down Steve swatted at him playfully. “You absolute menace.”

Eddie cackled. “Yes, but I’m your menace.”

Steve turned around in his arms and kissed him deeply. Their cocks brushed against each other and he let out a low moan.

“So good...”

Eddie nipped at Steve’s chin. “Let’s get some food in us and then I want something else in you.”

Steve snorted. They ate and hydrated before Eddie picked Steve up bridal style and carried him back to the bedroom.

Eddie could feel himself sliding back into the blind haze of his rut, but the scent of the omega underneath him stirred some distant memory, but it was lost in the next moment when Steve moaned.

The pattern continued like that for the five days. Steve and Eddie taking care of each other while Eddie was lucid, Steve taking care him when he wasn’t.

Eddie had never experienced a rut that had gone so smooth. He understood why alphas paid top dollar for an escort to service their ruts if every one was like this.

He knew that he wouldn’t be able to spend another rut without Steve for as long as he was biologically able to experience ruts.

Each time he became lucid, he would become aware for longer. The last day having two hours before the rut took over him again.

But he used those two hours wisely. He talked to Steve.

“Baby,” Eddie said, from the sofa, “come sit for a bit. You know it won’t hit again for awhile, you might as well relax.”

Steve looked over at him and smiled. He padded over to the sofa and curled up onto Eddie’s lap.

“How are you feeling?” he murmured into Eddie’s neck.

“I’m good,” Eddie replied. “This was worth every penny. I see why it’s so popular.”

Steve chuckled. “I’m glad that it’s available to alphas that can’t afford escorts through clinics.”

“That’s a new thing, though right?” Eddie asked. “I don’t remember seeing them when I first presented.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, nodding. “It’s something that a lot of the major escort houses pushed for in recent years, if all alphas can get the same level of care that the rich do, then it lowers the chances of alphas turning feral from bad ruts.”

Eddie grinned. “It would have happened in the last five years or so, would it? Like say when a particular omega became popular?”

Steve blushed but didn’t deny it. Alpha health was something he had been passionate about for awhile. Helping everyone no matter how much money someone had was just the start of what he wanted to do. Mandating sex education for alphas. It was mandated for omegas and beta, but not alphas, because ‘alphas instinctively knew what to do’ with omegas. Which was bullshit.

“I thought so,” Eddie said.

Steve smiled back. “I’ve even got a non-profit going setting up education booths outside high schools for alphas to get pamphlets and other material about their reproductive health.”

“Ooh, ooh!” Eddie said, nearly vibrating with excitement. “We should throw a gala like the one where we met to get the awareness out there.”

“That’s a great idea, Eds,” Steve said, kissing Eddie’s jaw.

They settled down into a warm silence for awhile just taking in each other’s soothing presence.

Eddie nuzzled Steve ear to wake him. “Hey, you tired, sweetness?”

Steve roused himself and looked up at him bleary eyed. “I guess I am. You see this rough and tumble alpha has been keeping my hole hot and full for the few days. Trying to keep up with him is tiring me out.”

Eddie cackled. “Yeah, if he wears you out so bad, you should blacklist him or something.”

“I would, but I’m in love with his cock so...”

Eddie’s head reared back in mock indignation. “Excuse you!”

Steve laughed. He pressed a kiss to Eddie’s scent gland and the alpha purred. Steve’s omega chirped happily in response.

“I love your scent,” Eddie murmured. “It’s not like other escorts I’ve met.”

Steve looked up at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Chrissy, Elinor, Tommy,” Eddie said. “All smell too sweet. Like fruit rotting on the vine. A terrible but apt metaphor for their condition. But you smell spicy. But in sweet kind of way.”

“I do?” Steve really never thought about his own scent before.

Eddie nodded. “Gareth described it like Mexican hot chocolate. You know the kind that is spiced with peppers?”

Steve nodded back.

“Did you ever think that you might be a golden omega?” Eddie continued.

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Never. Like why would I? I’m not special.”

“That’s highly debatable, sweetheart,” Eddie admonished. “But your scent and everything you’ve told me about your family. It’s very possible you could be.”

“Is that why you wanted to court me?” Steve asked, soft and small. Like a mouse.

Eddie pulled Steve in closer. “No baby, I didn’t figure it out until later. I wanted to court you because you are funny and amazing and everything I’ve ever wanted in a mate.”

He lift Steve’s chin up and kissed him deeply. “Plus, I set up the rut way before I put the pieces together. Everything was set to protect me, but it seems to me that it may end up protecting you, too.”

“What do you mean?”

“As you know, golden omegas can only get pregnant during their heats,” Eddie said. “And since I’m a known scent breaker...”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “You think there is a chance I’ll go into a mini heat, don’t you?”

Eddie nodded. “When I first booked you, it was one of the things Robin was adamant about protecting you from.”

“She’s amazing like that,” Steve murmured.

“She really is,” Eddie cooed. “But it looks like our time is up, honey.”

Steve could feel Eddie’s cock harden under his ass. “Come to bed with me, alpha,” he purred. “Let me take care of you.”

Eddie let Steve pull him to his feet and they walked hand in hand to Steve’s bedroom for the last of Eddie’s rut.

****

When Eddie came to he was not in Steve’s apartment, he was in a smaller hotel room lying on a comfy sofa.

“I’m going to have to burn that sofa after all this,” Robin groused from a nearby armchair. “It will reek of alpha for months if I don’t. I can smell you from here.”

Eddie sat up. He was dressed in soft grey sweatpants and a loose white tank top. No underwear, but then he hadn’t brought any. He ran his fingers through his greasy and sweat slicked hair.

“Fuck,” Eddie grumbled.

“Your manager, Benny sent over a duffel of clothes for you for the next three days.”

Eddie saw the small duffel and snatched it up. “May I please request the use of your shower, milady?”

Robin laughed. “Please do.”

Eddie dashed for the door she pointed to and slammed the door behind him. He stripped his clothes and quickly got under the still cold water. He didn’t want to wait for it to heat up because he felt that gross. His dick was most clean because Steve took the time to wipe him down between condom changes, but he washed it good anyway.

The next thing he focused on was his hair, he had to wash it several times before it felt like it was supposed to. He ran conditioner through the ends of his curls with his fingers, gently massaging it in.

Then he worked on getting the sweat and stink off his body. He hated washing away Steve’s scent, but if he didn’t get clean, Eddie was going to scratch his eyeballs out.

Finally satisfied with how clean he was, he rinsed out his conditioner and stepped out.

He dried off quickly and rummaged through the bag.

Eureka!

Underwear.

Eddie got dressed and then cleaned up his mess, hanging up towels and making sure there wasn’t water everywhere. Uncle Wayne raised him better than to make a mess of someone else’s home.

He opened the door to find Robin and Benny waiting for him.

“Hey, Ben Ten, Birdie,” he greeted, concern dripping from every pore. “What’s happening?”

Benny smiled. “It’s nothing bad. Robin and I were just wrapping up the end of the contract.”

Eddie’s shoulders slumped in relief. He had almost forgotten about the whole thing because he was madly in love with Steve. He sat down on the sofa next to Benny.

“So everything is good?” he asked to be sure.

“Yup!” Robin said brightly. “You are now free to pursue the omega of your dreams.”

Eddie chuckled.

He thought for a moment, licking the bottom of his lip.

“Hey, Robin,” he asked, looking down at his clasped hands, “has an escort ever turned out to be a golden omega?”

Robin and Benny shared a glance.

“You think Steve might be one?” she asked. “Because if he is, that would be fucking hilarious.”

Eddie’s head snapped up.

“His parents have called him useless and a disgrace for being infertile for over a decade,” Robin explained. “To have him be a golden omega who could have been sold for ten to twenty times what he got auctioned for? That would be poetic justice.”

He nodded. “So do you think there’s a chance?”

“Sure,” she said with a half shrug. “The agency doesn’t shout it from the rooftops but yeah, there have been a couple of golden omegas that have come out of Starcourt.”

“How did they find out?” Benny asked, suddenly very interested in where this conversation was going.

“A combination of a couple different ways,” Robin said. “The first is how frequent their heats are. Most golden omegas go into heat more often then regular fertile omegas to make up for the fact they can only get pregnant during their heats.”

Eddie nodded, “And Steve’s are within the normal range?”

She waved her hand back and forth. “Kinda. It’s more times a year than a regular omega, but not outside the possibility if you know what I mean.”

“So say a regular omega has four heats a year and golden omega has eight,” Benny said, “Steve’s heat is somewhere in the middle?”

Robin nodded. “Exactly. The other thing is scent. Which you know Steve’s is unusual. But it’s unusual for an omega full stop.”

Benny and Eddie shared a look of confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Alphas scents are spices, like cinnamon, clove, cardamon, or spicy like peppers, or natural woody scents like pine or cedar,” she explained. “Omegas are fruit and floral scents. Sometimes flavors like chocolate or coffee. That includes golden omegas. Infertile omegas have what is always described as rotted fruit. Super sickly sweet.”

Eddie bit his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth. “But Steve’s is a mix between the two scents?”

Robin nodded again. “Right. The third thing that helps identify a non-tested golden omega is their resistance to scent breakers.”

“Fuck,” Eddie said. “That means he’s not a golden omega. I thought for sure he was. I even told him he was. That he was so special and precious beyond measure.”

She shook her head. “No, Eddie. That’s where you’re wrong. There is a final thing that helps identify if the omega in question is a golden or not.”

Eddie frowned, “What’s that?”

“There’s a reason golden omegas get their choice of any alpha in the country, if not world,” she said fiercely. “And despite what the media likes to paint it as, it’s not just the rich and elite.”

“It’s not?” Benny asked.

Robin shook her head again. “They’re looking for their soulmate.”

It was like someone had scooped out Eddie’s stomach. “Their what?”

“Soulmate,” Robin said. “The person who completes them. Someone who can break through their scent breaking resistance, someone who’s scent compliments their own, someone who when they share their heats and ruts it goes just about as perfectly as two humans can get. And if they meet that person?”

“Oh,” Eddie breathed.

“Oh.”

****

Soulmates! *jazz hands* Yeah, sorry I couldn't help myself.

Part 17

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369

@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

@maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv

@wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee

@littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt

@apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr

@ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf

@melodymeddler @mogami13 @annabanannabeth @disrespectedgoatman @manda-panda-monium

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #omegaverse #rockstar eddie munson

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starb3rrys · 1 year

Note

Hiii I'm kinda new to Tumblr so idk how stuff really works here😭 but anyway are your requests open? If so, then I'd like to make a req but if not just ignore this!!

Umm so basically an nsfw oneshot(idk what you call it) or headcanons of how bsd men would react/deal the situation when you two are hiding in a very tight space and your crotches accidentally rub together? RHRHHT it's kinda weird describing it but let's just say [character] pushed you along with him into a locker/box with you sitting on top of his lap OR with you too close ttp that you two could feel each other with every inch you move

Uhhh and yeah that's it and feel free to add some touches and changes on the scenario, and I'd greatly appreciate it if maybe you add Nikolai in it😁🙏AND AGAIN IF U DON'T FEEL LIKE DOING MY REQ OR ISN'T ACCEPTING REQS RN THEN FEEL FREE TO IGNORE I HONESTLY DON'T MIND!!/lh /srs

OMG YES?! Ugh, I love this request! I wanted to add some more characters as well, So I picked the DOA (sorry) ＼(٥⁀▽⁀ )／

If y’all want a part 2 with different characters just let me know, Im at your service! <3

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

A Tight Fit~

Ft. Nikolai, Sigma, Fyodor

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Nikolai

Scenario: You were out on a mission with Nikolai, it should’ve been an easy “break in and grab important documents” type mission. But now, you two were squeezed together in a small closet, fearing that any small movement would get you two caught.

“Stay quiet...” Nikolai said as he listened closely, his face looked concentrated and serious, a change from his usual happy and calm face

You quietly nod, as you press against the wall behind you to try and get some more space in between you two

The closet is pretty small, hence why nikolai is leaning down, his hands are pressed firmly on each side of your head, inevitably pinning you in place

Nikolai thinks of a way for both of you to escape this situation without being spotted, “maybe I can teleport something”, he thought to himself

He reaches for his cape, unintentionally pressing against you

Your eyes widen as you feel something press against your area, you slowly look up to see if Nikolai noticed

His cheeks are flushed, hes frozen in place and there is an obvious smirk forming on his face

Yeah he definitely noticed.

You start to speak “Niko-… you’re so clo-“, he cuts you off as he places his hand over your lips

“Shh...” He says as he places a finger against his own lips with a small smirk

Moments later you hear the door of the office close, you two are now alone

“They’re gone now...” Nikolai says in a quiet gentle tone, he turns to you “But, i mean…we could just stay in here~” he says with a mischievous grin

Even after you two get out of that closet, he would keep on teasing and reminding you of the “incident”, he will make sure you never forget!~

Sigma

Scenario: You really don’t know how you got in this situation, one second you and Sigma were walking the streets of the city at night, after your wonderful date. The next, you were hiding in a small dark alley, your body pressed tightly against sigmas as you both hid from a certain jester.

“Damn it.” Sigma cursed under his breath as he kept his guard up, looking around frantically with a worried yet annoyed look

You looked up at Sigma, “Why are we hiding?” You whispered

Sigma looked down at you as he let out a sigh “I saw Nikolai roaming the streets, We can’t be seen together by anyone in the decay, if they were to find out about us...I’m sure horrible consequences would follow” he explained

You nod in agreement, “I understand..but um, why did we have to hide in such a...tight space.” You say as you look away, you can feel his body pressed tightly against yours, you can feel his every breath, his every shuffle and every slight movement

Sigma realizes this and blushes as his eyes widen, “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice our position in the heat of the moment”

As he says this, you hear a slight noise come from the alley which causes you to slightly jump in a fright

Sigma let’s out a small grunt as he feels your crotch roughly brush against his, he grips your shoulders and holds you in place “Love please…try and stay still…at least for now” he pleads as his face flushes

Your eyes widen as you feel something slightly poke you “Sigm-“ you’re cut off as his hand covers your mouth, “Keep quiet..” he whispers as you hear footsteps around the corner

You feel him press more onto you, trying to hide your body from view as he lays his head against you shoulder, next to your ear

You slightly shuffle which causes sigma to groan in response, he quickly grips your hips with slight force

“Keep still..” he says in a low tone

Once you two finally get out of the alley way…let’s just say- his head was full of scenarios that caused him to blush profusely, as he practically dragged you to your apartment…

Fyodor

Scenario: Work has been so busy lately, new mission reports coming in everyday. Piles of finished and unfinished documents decorate your desk. All of this caused you to become stressed and overwhelmed, which caused you to become clumsy. So clumsy that you didn’t even seem to notice Fyodor turning the corner, not until it was too late.

**THUD**, is all that can be heard as your bodies crash together and fall to the floor

You feel extreme pain on your head as you let out a small groan of pain

You soothe your head and begin to slowly open your eyes, you try and comprehend what just happened as you hear a soft pained groan come from under you

You slowly begin to look down, your face flushes when you and Fyodor’s eyes meet

His eyes show slight shock as they quickly return to their neutral state, he just stares up at you…not uttering a word

You take a minute to process what is currently happening…and thats when you feel it, you feel something pressing against your area

You quickly get off Fyodor as you begin to apologize, “I’m so sorry! I should’ve been paying more attention!”, you ramble on apologies as you quickly stand up

He lets out a small chuckle as he stands up and brushes himself off , “No worries, more importantly…are you alright?” He asks with a bit of concern present in his tone

You nod as your face grows red, you begin to remember what you felt under you as you pray to god he didn’t notice

But, its like he can read you like a book, he smirks as he reaches for your chin, making you look at him “Yes,…I did notice and feel it” he says with a sly tone

You freeze in place as he says this, he then pulls away and softly smiles “Just be more careful and aware in the future, alright?”

He narrows his eyes as his tone changes to a more stern one, “Next time I won’t be so forgiving…~” he says as he begins to walk off

You’re left standing there shocked and frozen in place

He definitely enjoyed it, especially your cute reaction when you thought he didn’t notice. But for your sake he won’t bring it up, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t think about it constantly…~

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

Hi Hi! Sorry for the delay, work has been getting in the way but no worries im clearing out my requests!

I changed the scenario up a bit for Fyodor! (Sorry)

I appreciate everyone sending in requests! Love yall! <3

#bsd nikolai gogol #nikolai x reader #bsd sigma #sigma x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd fanfic

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luffyvace · 8 months

Note

Hello there hope your doing super well ~ . As request are currently open could I please headcanons with law ,sanji, zoro. +feel free to add characters. With a s/O thats super sweet to everyone almost too sweet. Also cute. But some choice to take avngenre of y/n kinddess. And once y/N found out that is all fake. They become like a sad puppy. All sad.

Thanks for your work.💙💜

I’m doing wonderful dear anon<3 thank you for asking! Oh my I’ve never written for law, I don’t know much about him because I’m still at the impel down arc in the anime soo I hope sanji and zoro will be alright~ :)

y/n sounds so sweet! They must be protected!! (Also you used s/o and y/n so I will too, in this case no pronouns will be used ♥︎)

enjoy your hcs love! And thank you for your request! (may be a bit ooc for zoro?)

RORONOA ZORO ⚔️🗡

Zoro and a cute and sweet reader!~

what an adorable oxymoron<3

you love to cuddle and curl up on top of him when he’s sleeping

He’s a big guy so he’s sure to provide warmth

zoro doesn’t get your need to help others and being so kind to people

or how helping others makes you happy

but zoro is emotionally strong—maybe not intelligent but strong

so he knows when to draw the line for you if your accidentally being overly helpful

or if your tiring yourself out/overextending yourself

he brings a sense of balance to you in that aspect

the fact that he can do that for you is comforting and makes you feel protected

which Zoro is protective of you because of how naive you are

Zoro is very wary of strangers for you

your too sweet and assume that person is just having a bad day or that’s they’re natural face

but behind you is your big scary dog (zoro) who is glaring daggers at the person he knows actually has an evil intent towards you

Zoro is there most of the time so he doesn’t let people take advantage of you

but the times he isn’t around?

once he finds out he gonna slice that person into dice and make them return whatever they had you get them, etc

he doesn’t it like it at all and can immediately tell when someone is trying to get over on you

After the situation is handled he drags you away (getting you two lost) and says

“Seriously! You needa be more careful y/n!”

he doesn’t really notice how down you are for a while

until he turns around to ask you something and you sorta have this sad puppy look on your face

”what’s wrong with you?”

he’s not gentle about it or anything but he does care

when you tell him it’s because your sad that everyone your kind to betrays you his protectiveness heightens

”what do you wanna impress those people for when you have the world's greatest swordsman..”

he kinda muttered it to himself

but you heard and immediately perked up

you clang onto his arm and walked all the way back to the sunny like that

(might I mention it took a while since Zoro was leading..you knew the way but you decided to just let him 🤦‍♀️😂💗)

Zoro overall does appreciate what you do for him and the crew tho

how you count his push-ups and bring him the drinks/food you asked sanji to make him

it doesn’t go unnoticed so don’t worry :)

as far as y/n being cute he doesn’t notice every time

or have a big reaction when he does

he only blushes a little sometimes, again, when he notices

it’s easier to make him bashful than it is to make him blush with a cute face/smile

He does think your innocence is a bit cute tho!

…..along with naive, but still cute!

”seriously..how come your always getting yourself into trouble” (he blushes a little and turns his face away, pouting slightly)

VINSMOKE SANJI🧑‍🍳

Sanji x such a sweetheart reader is practically meant to be!!

Your both equally sweet and serving

especially sanji since he was raised in an environment where he had to serve people

you guys always insist on helping each other

your love languages are most definitely acts of service and quality time

you two do each other favors all day

”let me help you!”

”no I’ve got it sit down, relax!”

that conversation goes both ways between the two of you multiple times a day

Sanji loves to cook for you so ask him any time of day!

he never has a problem with it and wants to do it actually!

You two are equally emotional people and probably empathic

you guys feel for other people so you feel the urge to help those in need

your weakness is being too kind and his is being too much of a gentleman

you guys are actually really similar in a sense

which you all don’t mind because you can relate to each other

sanji however knows when to take a break

not to say that you don’t but you just tend to overwork yourself for other people’s sake

to which sanji puts a stop to :)

he runs you hot baths, massages your shoulders and washes your hair

You do the same for him since you’d feel bad if you didn’t

he very much appreciates this

its not every day someone takes care of him

you guys then eat the delicious hot meal he prepared and snuggle up, falling asleep together

You guys also take the chance for vacation every time you see one

Pirates have to be prepared for the worst of adventures on every island

so as soon as you see the opportunity to relax you two leap to have a fun beach day

sanji is absolutely a SIMP for how cute you are

he is SO fond over you and is always gushing and bragging (to zoro) how cute his s/o is

like literally he doesn’t shut up about how adorable you are!

a cute lady with a sweet personality??

yes please.

He definitely warns you after the first few times he sees you getting taken advantage of

it’s a sweet and gentle chat about the dangers in the world and how you can’t trust everyone

even if you don’t trust them! set boundaries and don’t let them walk all over you!

if you feel too many bad people are around don’t give them the benefit of the doubt! find a straw hat and stick with them!!

”y/n-Chan you’ve gotta use your discernment to see who is being mean and who is worthy to trust..!”

like yes some strangers are kind but some will see how sweet you are and use that against you!

absolutely does not let a man take advantage of you and will immediately kick him away

with a women tho he will probably go get robin or nami

maybe even simply take you away and let it go if it’s just a regular woman

but if it’s a pirate who’s trying to back you into a corner yeah he’s for sure getting the straw hat girls

he will offer himself instead and tell you to go get someone from back on the merry/sunny

Or maybe if you can fight he’ll root for you!

not that he likes that fact that another woman is being hurt in the process..

but if he has to choose between his woman and another one that was disrespecting his woman??

”GO MY BEAUTIFUL Y/N-CHWAAAAAN!!!”

as for sad puppy y/n he notices right away and immediately does whatever he can to cheer you up again

he bakes you sweets, runs you a bath, makes you drinks, makes you laugh, buys you whatever you want just to see you smile

and again if it was a guy who did this to you he’s 100% getting the boot 💥💥

your sure to cheer up soon with all that sanji does for you

especially with his warm cuddles n kissses ♡

thank you once again for your requests my love! Today is a very busy day..I have a lot to get out.. 😅

Overall I hope you enjoyed your hcs!

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hongcherry · 8 months

Text

rating svt from husband, boyfriend, bestie material

pairing/genres: svt x reader (gn); fluff

warnings: lots of nana tour (NT) and in the soop (ITS) references, as well as others but wanted to give specific warnings for those two shows bc spoilers

author's note: for 🍉 anon. THIS WAS TOUGH LMAO. I’d also like to say this is kinda biased!!! I tried to be objective despite having strong feelings toward certain members 🥲 But just a general disclaimer: I do not know them personally, so I'm going off of what they've shown to the public. I know there will be people who disagree because we all have different ideas/preferences in a partner/best friend. So, please, keep that in mind! Each member can mean something different depending on the person 💞

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

Husband Material

1. Mingyu — This man can cook, clean, is intelligent, handsome, funny, etc etc etc~. I believe he’s also one of the first members to comfort others. And his sister has mentioned she wants a partner like Mingyu. Enough said lol.

2. Seungcheol — He’s caring, loyal, reliable, and dependable (cough that one jeongcheol clip cough). He’s not afraid to stand up for those he cares about (i.e., members > company). He’ll be the protector type (wbk). I sense the relationship would feel stable and secure.

3. Joshua — This man has always screamed husband material. He truly IS a gentleman. He has a good balance of playfulness and seriousness, which would make the relationship fun. He’s also very caring (flashback to ITS with Seungkwan (even NT as well)) and has a great heart.

4. Chan — In his Weverse interview, he mentioned how he wants to be there for his members no matter what. He’s also very passionate about his craft, and I think that attribute would cross into his love life. And did you see the video of him with that carat and holding their purse while they got in the car?!?!

5. Minghao — I’m reminded of that video of him saying he’s always dreamed of getting married and having kids (ironically saw this again on my tl recently). And watching NT, it’s so easy to imagine him with his family in an artsy town. Also, he’d be loyal (I recall all the anti-delulu fancalls and lives LOL; this doesn't necessarily show loyalty but yk... it can *wink wonk*) and caring (as seen with Vernon).

Boyfriend Material

6. Seokmin — He’s so precious and sweet. Definitely someone you would want to take home to your family. He’s so full of love and happiness. I think he’ll care for his partner a lot and shower them with love. The relationship with him would be so wholesome.

7. Wonwoo — Have you seen the way he treats Chan?! Imagine him with his partner *sobs* I get the sense (one of) his love language(s) is acts of service, so he’d treat his partner sweetly and tenderly. He’ll be a soft and supportive lover.

8. Jun — I recall how he made breakfast for SVT during predebut because he couldn’t speak Korean well at the time but wanted to do something nice/show his love for his members. I also saw a recent video of him making sure one of the members didn’t fall when they stumbled. So, I think he’d be very attentive to his partner’s needs. Also, imagine bf!Jun cooking you hot pot. Yes, please.

9. Jeonghan — I think he teeters on the boyfriend and bestie line (his face also gives off fwb vibes lmao), but since Jeonghan is one of my biases, he gets put in this category (semi-sorry). This man said, “You’re supposed to wait endlessly for people you like” in NT. He has said he wants to be an island to people in ITS. He’s also supportive of others as we’ve seen when he co-parents with Cheol lol. I think he wouldn’t be afraid to do something for his partner if they needed him to as well (i.e., that live when Seungkwan wanted to sing but it was late, so Jeonghan said he’ll ask for others to understand. It may have been a joke, but it was still kind to say).

Bestie Material

10. Soonyoung — He’s the person I would swap with Jeonghan since he also is on the borderline. He’s very energetic with people he’s comfortable with so his friends get to see that side a lot. He’s also cuddly as we’ve seen in several clips of him snuggling his members lol. I get the “you’re so comfortable around each other it’s almost like you’re dating” vibes LOL.

11. Seungkwan — He’d be so fun to be around. A lot of fun memories will be created with him. He’s the life of the party, and I just imagine him popping around here and there at an event lol (I think I’m overprojecting slightly, but he would still be well-known to others!). I think Seungkwan just needs/likes to be around people regardless of whether they’re a partner or a friend.

12. Vernon — He feels like a free spirit. I believe he’s mentioned before that he’s more of a personality person, so he’s not focused on looks in his partner. He’s very chill and already is confident in his own skin. I get the sense he’s content being alone (or w a friend) but also having a partner if the right one comes around.

13. Jihoon — It’s not impossible to have a relationship when he’s busy, but it def would be harder to balance. Even though he’s quiet, he cares. This is evident in the songs he’s made for certain members. I think he wouldn’t mind a partner, but they’d need to be understanding of his lifestyle (and accept he’s not big on showing affection directly). I think his partner would be someone who is similar to him but also would be able to introduce him to things he doesn’t do (like go outside lol. I say this bc he was loving the NT experience).

divider credit

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

#requests #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #svt x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios

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adirajackson · 5 months

Note

hi can u pls write a book percy x daughter of persephone based on i hate it here by taylor swift. where the reader has a secret garden that percy finds pls

Secret gardens in my mind. ☻

Percy Jackson x Persephone!reader

Ofc since you said pls I actually have only listened to ‘I hate it here’ a few times and had to listen to it a bit before writing this so sorry if it’s not perfect, ask me if you wanna redo it :P

Also, this I kinda short :/

Warning: fluff/angst?? and minor swearing

On the radio:

Percy was just going on a walk in the woods. Nothing special. He was just going to clear his head after having to deal with 3 campers who were all arguing about 9/11— it’s a long story. It was late dusk and you could only see a few stars when you looked up at the sky. He walked a bit more, going deeper into the forest. Everything was going normal until he saw little stepping stones going into a path, candles lit the way.

“Hello?” He called out, wondering if anyone was there. Nothing. He followed the path into a beautiful garden. It had so many times of plants that it was like the dictionary for plants. In the middle of it all was a beautiful girl with a flower crown, singing to the plants as they magically grew. He just stared for a bit and listened to her angelic singing. She finally noticed him and practically jumped. “Gods! You…scared…me…!” She said, catching her breath. “Sorry, your voice is beautiful!” He said, smiling lopsidedly. “And what is this place anyway?” She smiled softly and handed him a flower, walking over to a tree and sitting under it. “My secret garden.” She said, looking him in the eye. “I’m a daughter of Persephone, this is my happy place, my escape.” Percy nodded, playing with the purple rose in his hand. “You- your garden is very gorgeous,” he said, smiling at you and looking around.

"Thanks. I come here when I get tired of the real world. It's sad, really, but I hate it out there. Why should demigods have to live like this because of the gods stupid mistakes?" she said, a flower slightly wilting before she instantly made it healthier. Gods, please no. Not her... Never again. Percy instantly got reminded of Luke. And he never wanted to go through that again, especially with a girl so gorgeous like her. "That's true, but instead of hating the gods for their mistakes, I would thank them. For letting me meet you." he sat down on a bench next to you. "That's...awful poetic. Child of Apollo?" she asked. Percy chuckled and sideways smirked, "Son of Poseidon at your service." she nodded. "So that's why you smell like seaweed and salt water." Percy shrugged. "Good or bad?"

"Good."

Percy just stared into her eyes for a bit. "I get it though, the world's annoying. Bleh." he fake gagged. She giggled and all the nearby flowers instantly had an aura around them, healthy and happy. "I never caught your name," she observed. "I never threw it." he answered, smiling and kissing her hand, "Percy Jackson." "I'm Y/n," she blushed.

"That's a gorgeous name."

"Thank you."

He smiled and ran a hand through her hair. "Why don't you come back to camp with me and we can hang out in my cabin?" he asked. "Sure, why not?" you replied. So you guys walked back to camp, not forgetting to blow out the candles before your departure.

Maybe the real world wasn't so bad. When your with someone you love, I mean.

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #persephone #percy x Persephone!reader #taylor swift #request

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

The Devil Wears Armani 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you’re the CEO’s new PA and you find the work too much to handle. (short!reader)

Characters: Tony Stark, this reader is known as Georgie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

—posting to the correct blog lol—

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

The appletini at girls' night does little to ease you through a restless night. You’re not a traveller. You’ve never flown before. The only reason you have a passport is it was required for the job. You didn’t expect to actually use it.

You give into consciousness around 3am and double check your bag for everything you need. You forego your usual coffee as you fear an anxious bladder adding to your addled state. You still can’t figure out why Mr. Stark told you to come along. You don’t have anything blocked into his calendar. He’s had weekend meetings before but you usually pop into zoom to take notes and nothing else.

You spare the fare for a cab as the streetcar isn’t in service yet and you don’t feel like venturing into the underground at this hour. The ride is swift in the dead streets of the city. You don’t think you’ve ever seen them so empty.

You arrive at the airport and realise you’re missing a very important piece. A boarding pass? Terminal information? Any sort of direction to find where you need to be. Well, it never hurts to ask for help even if you don’t get it.

You enter and go to the counter. The woman behind it looks tired as dark rings stain her sockets and she fixes her smile to greet you. You nervously clench your jaw and exhale through your nose.

“Hi, I... I’m supposed to be flying, er, private? I work for Tony Stark?” You creak out through your dry throat. You need water.

“Mr. Stark?” She lowers her brow, “do you have proof of employment?”

“Erm, yeah,” you unhook your keyring from your purse and shove it towards her. Your company ID is hooked onto the cluster of novelty attachments and keys.

“I need to make a call,” she says as she examines your identification.

Great.

You bob nervously on the other side of the counter as the attendant speaks quietly into the speaker. Your phone buzzes and you jingle the keys as you find it. Stark has sent you a simple message; ‘Terminal 1, tarmac. Now.’

As you peek up over the counter, the woman hangs up. “You need to head up to Terminal 1. Find an employee there, in a white shirt like mine, and show them this.” She kits a few keys and her printer grinds with great effort. She hands you a boarding pass but most of it is empty. There’s only a code at the bottom.

You thank her and head off. You scramble through security, walking through the scanner as your bag rides the conveyor through and x-ray. You retrieve your things on the other side and run off to reach Mr. Stark before he gets too impatient. He’s probably already agitated.

You check your watch. It’s only 5:01am. You’re on time, right?

You follow the signs to terminal one and find a large man standing by a ramp entrance. You approach him and show him the pass. He points you to another employee at the far end as he talks over his walkie talkie to them. You cross the tiled floor to meet the man and he beckons you towards another ramp.

You’re led down to the tarmac and left to shuffle across it on your own. You’re only told to approach big jet waiting by a tower set of stairs. There’s an attendant at the bottom who greets your brightly and you show the pass again.

“Mr. Stark is expecting you. May I take your bag?” She offers.

“No thank, I can handle it,” you nod and lift the bag off its wheels.

You climb a stair at a time and pass another attendant at the top. She directs you to leave your bag in the front carriage and you roll it behind the wall of webbing there. You turn to the ivory curtain and peek through tentatively. The movement of fabric draws Mr. Stark’s gaze from his phone.

“Get in here,” he demands, “about time, George. I was about to fall asleep.”

You push through and near him, “sir, did you need coffee?”

“They got the long-legged ones for that,” he waves away your offer with his lecherous allusion to the pretty, tall attendants. “Sit.”

You look at the chair on the other side of the table, across from him, and you hesitate. You lower yourself into the cushy seat and cross one leg over the other, your foot bouncing anxiously. You clutch your hands together and stare at Mr. Stark.

“You look tired as hell,” he cackles.

“Sir, it’s early.”

“Ah, don’t let that ruin an all-inclusive. Tell me, Georgie, a girl like you, are you jet-setting every weekend? You got billionaires flying you to the Caribbean on the reg? Didn’t think you were the popular type.”

“No, sir, I--” you try not to wince at his insinuation. You are all too aware that you’re on the bottom rung of the ladder he sits atop of. “Thank you for this. It’s very nice of you to bring me along.”

“You are very welcome,” he says smugly, “move.”

He points to the seat next to him.

“Oh, uh,” you pull your hands apart and push yourself up with the armrests, “sorry.”

He grunts, irritated, and signals with two fingers. As an attendant approaches, you sidle around the table and in front of Stark to get to the other seat. You feel a brush on your thigh but ignore it. It’s a tight squeeze.

He asks for an espresso as you lower yourself down. He reaches over and pinches the fabric of your pants, just at the top of your knee. He sniffs.

“This isn’t very Caribbean-friendly. You’re gonna sweat your tits off,” he derides.

You try not to show your embarrassment, ignoring the urge to cover your chest at his comment. Out of habit, you put on your usual attire. A cardigan, a tidy blouse, and slacks. He huffs again and tugs at the sleeve of your cardigan.

“Get rid of this,” he demands.

“Oh, uh...” You sit forward as you undo the single button and you shrug out of the wool. He swipes it away and tosses it on the floor.

The attendant returns with his espresso and gathers up your cardigan as you send her an apologetic look. Stark takes his coffee and tastes it before setting it on the table. He turns to you and clucks again. You let out a squeak as he reaches to pop the top button of your blouse, then the next. You flatten yourself to the seat helplessly.

“Better, gotta let those things breathe,” he winks and sits back with a smirk.

#tony stark #dark tony stark #dark!tony stark #tony stark x reader #the devil wears armani #series #drabble #au #bad bosses #iron man #avengers #mcu #marvel

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gyuarchival · 1 year

Text

in a better moment, at a better timing. | choi yeonjun, oneshot.

sypnosis: ex!yeonjun is trying to win you back, after a few months of breaking up. He never stops trying, until the last and final moment just as he was about to give up.

word count: 2k words.

genre: angst, happy ending, slice of life, student life.

warnings: constant mentions of smoking, arguing, fighting.

A/N: yay my first ever post! this isn't a really good oneshot for a first impression, but i had an idea that i just wanted to get it over and done with. I will be posting alot more as I have more works on the way <3 im open to constructive criticism though, just send me a message :)

“Just, enough, Choi Yeonjun. How far do you want to go? Huh? How many times do you want to do this?” you aggressively shook off his hand from your wrist that was gripping hard enough to leave red marks.

“But baby please, I told you I am at fault, that argument from months ago shouldn't have happened if I didn’t get so upset. I know I was shitty but please, let me make things right, yeah?”

He just had to bring this up as you accidentally bumped into him on campus before getting into class. Knowing he would not just give up, you tugged him to the back of your building, where most of the students go to smoke. Lucky for you, no one was there at that moment.

You sighed at the sight of your ex-boyfriend looking down at you with genuine eyes, rubbing his palms together in guilt like it was a Sunday morning during church service. To ease the pain you were feeling in your temples, you took out a cigarette stick, lighting it up and taking a deep inhale, feeling the burn hitting the back of your throat. You leaned on the wall, head tilting as you exhale.

Yeonjun looked at you with mouth agape and eyes widening.

“Since... when do you smoke babe...?”

“Since you broke up with me. I’m not your ‘babe’ anymore, stop calling me that.”

“I thought you hated smokers? That's why I stopped smoking in front of you.”

“And I thought you hated my guts? Why come back for the fifth time now?”

He grew silent.

“...I don’t. I have never hated you?”

Your giggle turned into a full on laughter.

“Really? Choi Yeonjun, you’re fucking funny. Didn’t know you took comedy classes after we broke up.”

He took a few steps closer to you, inching closer to your face. His cologne was overpowering the cigarette smell, but all of your senses stopped working once he locked eyes with you. You seriously hoped his shadow and the gloomy sky were helping to cover your face that was getting red.

“I’m serious, yn.”

He took the cigarette resting on your lips in between his own index and middle fingers, and took a hit. He leaned on the wall next to you, looking up at the sky, wondering if it was going to rain.

You couldn’t even ask him back for your stick because you were still stupidly flustered with the close proximity with your ex. Admittedly, you do still love him; but, you can’t blame yourself because you didn’t ask for the breakup, you just accepted it and (tried to) move on.

You placed a new stick in between your lips. He saw your movement, and before you could take out your lighter, he straightened his posture in front of you and held your shoulders in place. He got closer again, eyes focusing on the sticks in between the two of you, igniting your cigarette with his. For that brief moment, you stared into his eyes again. Fuck. There you go, all smothered for him again. This was the exact reason you two could last so long, close to 2 years long; authentic, real romance most relationships could not achieve for very long.

He snickered at your reaction, which got him a smack on his shoulder that made him retract a few steps back in return.

“Fuck was that Yeonjun.”

“Finally you dropped my last name,” he mentioned, as he hates when close friends, especially his own partner, calls him by his full name, as it is too ‘formal’, and not friendly at all.

You decided to sit down on the ground instead, and he followed suit.

“Whatever, Choi Yeonjun.”

“Hey.. thought you dropped it,” he pouted and tried acting cute.

You didn’t give a response but an inhale of your stick which you rather much focus on. A few brief seconds of silence, he spoke again.

“Remember during freshman year, we would text each other to sneak out and smoke during class?”

That sentence itself made you reminisce about those old times, and elicited a chuckle as you stared at the ground.

“Then you got caught by the class rep?”

“Yeah then I got caught! I took a bullet for us, baby."

He chuckled. There it was, your favourite smile appearing again. God, you miss it so damn much.

He was right, he has actually taken multiple bullets for your relationship, like he said; getting caught leaving class for reasons that your professor wouldn’t approve because he thinks of his students as if they were still young and naive even though everyone is well of age (seriously, who appoints a class rep in universities these days?). He even skipped his dance club meetings and trainings just to come down to see you, or accompany you while you wait for your next class to start, no matter if it was just 30 minutes.

However, at the end of the second semester, the two of you started to become extremely busy. One preparing for a dance competition and one practicing business presentations respectively. Ultimately, an argument just had to rise and break the relationship; over the fact that you two lacked communication and did not trust each other to be in the hands of another in replacement. Could you blame Beomgyu, Yeonjun’s dance partner for always spending time together? Or was it okay for him to point the blame on Soobin, your senior best friend who has been helping big time in preparing for your presentations?

But in truth, he was so agitated and pressured by his competition that he decided to blow smoke on you, blaming you for spending too much time with Soobin and that he was jealous. You were stressed too, and took things too emotionally. It was a typical relationship issue you thought you could talk things through for, but he did not have the same idea. Alas, it was the beginning of your downfall.

A few weeks after the breakup, he came back, haunting you and your friends like a spirit with unfinished business, begging to be brought back in once more and that he was at fault. The first and second time he begged you, you couldn’t even look into his eyes because you were so disappointed in him and yourself that you just walked away without responding. The third and fourth time he tried approaching you, he brought you letters and flowers that were placed on the usual spot you always sit in the lecture theatre for general studies class, which was once next to your beloved boyfriend (but now, Soobin takes that spot). He stopped doing so after seeing his flowers in the bin right outside the class.

Those times made you think, he really still loves you, and in truth, you still love him too, no matter how many times you tried denying it, by going to clubs with friends almost every week, and them telling you he isn’t worth it. You couldn't look him in the eye because you were scared of accepting this bittersweet truth. You threw the flowers because you didn't want your mother to be asking if Yeonjun gave you those and then ask a string of questions relating to your relationship and the boy, which makes her sound like she was more curious about your relationship with him than her own daughter’s wellbeing. All in all, you still hope he tries again, but with a better approach and at a better timing.

The fifth and last time. It was unexpected and accidental. The both of you didn’t watch where you were walking towards, and bumped shoulders hard enough to receive pain from it. After realising it was you who he bumped into, he told his friends to go without him, and you said the same to your own group. The conversation began, and from there it travelled back to the present.

is this perhaps the better approach at a better timing?

Your cigarette stick was slowly becoming shorter, so was his. Silence that was so uncomfortable fell in between the two of you.

“...I see you’re still wearing my hoodie. Does it still smell like me?”

Ah, right. You forgot about what you were wearing till he mentioned it. The grey oversized hoodie that he loved so much, he decided to give it to you before things got hectic, knowing you will miss him a hell lot when you two got very busy. You have been wearing it out of habit actually, but you didn’t really care because all hope was lost, so it was about time you lost his scent and made it yours.

“No, it smells like cigarettes now.”

“Hey, it was my favourite hoodie though! Should I bring back my scent that you love so much-”

“Stop, I don’t want to. I wear it out of habit. And for smoking.”

Yeonjun slowly retracted back his arms that were almost hugging your figure, wanting to hold you again once more, after the drought of not hugging someone that is as precious and adorable as you. He understood that you needed space, but that sentence did break his heart even more.

“...I’ll hear you out again once more. Properly. And I'll think about it this time," you mentioned your final choice to listen to his reasonings and explanations behind his never-ending fight to win you back.

In that split second his heart was mended instantly, and his lips stretched into a small smile, happy that the boy had finally gotten a small victory. He turned his whole body to you, and began speaking his truth.

“I admit I was at fault, the one who started the fight and initiated the break up. I know I messed up, big time. I won’t even blame the dance competition, or Soobin. Just myself. I was stupid enough to make that move out of the blue, especially when you were stressed about your presentations. I am terribly sorry for what I have done, and I promise you that when we have arguments again, I will never, ever do that again. You have been the best I ever had in my life, and I don’t want to be with anyone else, just you. I want to settle down with you and only you! I even thought about how many kids we should have and what kind of house we should-”

“Woah damn. Slow down? How did an apology get to a proposal?”

You giggled at his speech that sounded like he was going to get down on one knee to propose to you. He reacted the same as well, but for a different reason, when he saw you finally smiling because of him.

“Okay okay. Take your time though, I can wait all day for your response.”

“Really? Okay, I can go back to class and get back to you tonight then?” You joked, trying to get up from your spot while he tried to pull you back down. “Hey no i didn’t mean that!”

“I’m just joking, jjunie."

His heart fluttered at the mention of the nickname, that was specially made by you. No one else can call him that.

You decided to respond after sighing.

“Honestly? I feel the same. I too feel incomplete without you. Ever since we broke up, I couldn’t move on, and it felt wrong to do so. It was as if the universe didn’t allow me to. Do I resent you for that? Yes. Are you at fault? Obviously. But one thing I know for sure, that you regret it. From constantly begging me, to sending me letters and flowers, it was stupid, but it kind of reassured me to know that I wasn’t feeling stupid, alone.”

You looked at him after speaking, and he has been staring at you with glossy eyes, arms wrapped around his knees. You smiled genuinely towards him.

“My mother still asks about you too, you know? Asking when you are coming back to visit her again,”

With that sentence, tears fell from his eyes, he didn’t even put in the effort to wipe it off. His smile became crooked as his sobbing became harder. You felt bad, you hate to see your favourite person cry. You gave in, and gave Yeonjun a comforting hug, wrapping your warm arms around him, cooing and patting him like a little child.

“I’m sorry… I really am.”

“It’s okay. Me too.”

#txt au #txt imagines #txt fanfic #txt fluff #txt x reader #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun fanfic #choi yeonjun scenarios #yeonjun au #yeonjun scenarios #choi yeonjun imagines #txt scenarios #txt headcanons #yeonjun headcanons #yeonjun oneshot

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tasteleeknow · 2 years

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HELLO STRANGER. PART ONE.

pairing: minho ft. hyunjin x fem!reader genre: smut, angst, fluff, soulmate!au. enemies to lovers. jealousy. pining. unrequited love. content: 18+ minors dni. word count: 7k

summary: after watching everyone around you pair off with their soulmate, you finally get your turn. a slow burn strangers to enemies to lovers soulmate!au with jealousy and angst and smut and suffering (and softness ofc).

series masterlist & taglist ♡ pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

♡ series masterlist

mention of death (a recurring theme, not a main character). mc has anxiety. mention of body insecurity.

“I’m so happy for you, Mina. I-I really am.”

Your roommate was engaged to her soulmate. She’d woken you up at 2am, flicking your lights on and jumping up and down on your bed until you’d roused enough to comprehend what she was saying. A little over a year ago she’d gotten a notification—the person that suited her more than anyone else on earth had been found.

“She’s been trying to do it for weeks, apparently. She kept chickening out,” Mina giggles as she fiddles with the ring on her finger. “Isn’t it pretty?” she says, holding it out for you to inspect.

She’d shown you many times in the 20 minutes she’d been sitting cross-legged on your bed. You indulge her, taking her delicate hand in yours to take another look at the admittedly very pretty ring. Her joy was a little overwhelming, you’d been so low for so long.

It was only a few months after Mina met her soulmate that your boyfriend met his. He’d lied to you, signing up for the matching service behind your back. When he’d left, you’d signed up yourself in your anger—as if it could do anything to hurt him back. He didn’t care.

Neither did you, not anymore. You watched the people around you pair off, so distracted by their own joy not one of them had asked you about your lack of it. Then, a few weeks ago you’d received your notification. You’d stared at your phone screen, trying to comprehend the reality of it. All you had to do was acknowledge the match and agree on a time to meet. Then… you’d be one of the happy ones? You’d thrown your phone onto the bed, ignoring it until you were forced to pick it up again. You hadn’t told anyone since.

You look up at your friend again, her cheeks rosy—likely from a mixture of wine and excitement. “Mina?”

“Mm?” she responds absentmindedly, not looking up from her ring.

“I-I got my notification…” Her eyes snap up to meet yours. “...a few weeks ago,” you finish.

“What?! Who are they?!” she squeals, falling forward to grab your hands in hers—flapping them up and down.

“I don’t know, I didn’t respond.”

She drops both your hands onto the bed, eyes wide. “What? Why?”

“I…don’t know. I’m scared, I guess.”

She shuffles up to sit beside you against the pillows. “Ya know, I was scared at first too.”

You look up to her face, she’s looking at her ring again. You remembered the first week after she got her notification. She’d been so bouncy and overwhelmingly happy, you don’t remember her being nervous at all. “You were?”

“Mm, I know the whole idea is that you are supposed to be perfect for each other. But… what if I was the exception? What if I wasn’t enough for her? It felt…like such a huge thing to live up to—being someone’s perfect person. I just wanted to be enough for whoever it was I was going to meet.” She reaches over to take your hand. “Then I met her…and that all felt so silly. She was everything and I knew that even if I wasn’t enough for her yet, I'd do everything to make sure I was. She made me wanna be the best person I could be and it…was a lot—but in the best way.”

“I don't… know if I’m ready to be the best version of me.”

“That’s the point, even if you aren’t. They’ll help you. Besides, what if they need you to help them be the best version of them?”

“I’m not sure I could help anyone with that…”

“Just try? Yeah? I’ll be here,” she says, squeezing your hand gently.

You look over to your nightstand where your phone is charging. You couldn’t really bear to look at it these days. Mina nudges your shoulder. You reach over to grab it. She’s quiet as you open the app. Your heart races as you enter times you are available to meet, hesitating over the final button that confirms your agreement. You look down to Mina’s hand on your leg, the delicate ring catching your eye. You take a deep breath, then hit confirm.

Three weeks and they haven’t confirmed a time. Whoever they were, they clearly didn’t want you. You knew it was silly, to be upset about something you’d done yourself. Maybe they just had the same insecurities you did? Mina was busy with wedding preparation, you didn’t blame her for being distracted. She was happy and you were happy she was happy. Everything was fine.

“What about these?” Mina says, pointing out some blue carnations. The only other time you’d been in a flower shop like this was when you’d bought some roses for your anniversary with your ex.

“They’re pretty, are you definitely going with blue then?”

“Mm,” she confirms, “blue and purple.” She wanders away again and you trail behind, fiddling with the chain dangling off your phone case. “Haven’t heard back?” she asks. You pause briefly, it’s the first time she’s asked in over a week.

“No.”

“They’re probably panicking like you were.”

“Yeah,” you mutter.

You’re a little out of it as she leads you around the store—fiddling with the chain the entire time. The loud ring of a notification startles you, a small squeak leaving your lips. Mina looks up at you as you flick your phone to silent, you must have absent-mindedly flicked it while you were fiddling. You look up to meet her eyes.

“Check it,” she prompts.

“It’s probably nothing.”

“Check it,” she repeats. So you do. He’s confirmed to meet the next day. Just like that. Mina snatches your phone from your hands.

“Tomorrow?! Oh my god,” she says before shoving your phone back in your hands. “Confirm you’re going.”

“I’m going…” you mumble, staring down at the screen—attempting to process it.

Mina’s laugh breaks you from your daze. “Yes, you’re going. Come on, let’s go pick your outfit.” She grabs your arm, pulling you from the store.

You hardly sleep that night, spending the entire next morning cleaning your apartment—attempting (and failing) to distract yourself from the anxiety stirring in your chest. Your small cat brushes against your leg as you bend down to clean her tray.

“Hey, baby. You might meet a new friend soon, hm?” She meows at you. “Mm, I know. It’s scary for me, too. We’ll be okay, I'm sure they’re nice.”

A clap of thunder makes you jump. It had been storming all night. Usually storms relax you but apparently not even that could calm you now. “Gonna shower now,” you whisper to your cat, stroking her fur one last time.

You’d been putting it off, showering. You didn’t feel like looking at yourself. You didn’t consider yourself a particularly insecure person, most of the time you managed to stay pretty neutral about how you looked. You were fine. Right now though? Every negative thought you’d ever had was stirring to the surface. You couldn’t help pausing just before stepping into the shower, twisting back and forth to inspect yourself in the mirror. You’re fine.

You struggle to close your umbrella, shoving the handle into your stomach so you can push it down—eventually managing to collapse it fully. It’s still pouring. You’d closed your eyes the entire bus trip, listening to the rain and attempting to settle your nerves. You weren’t particularly successful. You rest your hand on the wall, steadying yourself—your empty stomach growling as you gather yourself. This is fine.

You look up at the revolving door. A girl walks out with a huge grin on her face—giggling to herself as she passes you. Clearly her meeting went well. You suck in a deep breath, the fresh air helping a little. Then, shoving the umbrella in your bag, you head inside.

The receptionist hands you a clipboard and a pen and asks you to wait for someone to collect you. It makes you feel like you’re at a dentist appointment. Not great for your nerves. You settle yourself in the corner to read the forms. You expect a disclaimer to cover the company's ass; terms and conditions. It’s a little more than that. Your leg bounces as you scan the pages, pen tapping against the clipboard.

Customers retain the right to withhold personal information from partners and discontinue communication at any time. Security is present on the premises. You read a paragraph about a wristband each person can use to signal for security discreetly. Why would anyone need that? You realise you're chewing on the pen. Crap. You look up to see if anyone has noticed. You can’t read anymore. You feel like your entire brain is consumed with trying to keep it together. You scribble your name at the bottom of the last page and head to the desk to hand it back.

“I’m—I’m done with this.”

“Oh, good. Felix will take you through now,” the receptionist answers, pointing to the blonde man holding a door open for you.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and heading over. This is fine.

“Good morning, I’m Felix” he greets. His voice is calm and his face bright. You can see why he has this role.

“Morning.”

He holds the door for you as pass then leads you down a long hallway, turning to speak to you. “Nervous?”

“A little,” you say, offering him a small shaky smile.

“You’ll be fine, promise. I’ve worked here awhile and never seen anyone leave without a big smile.” He stops at a cupboard built into the wall, pulling the door open. “Could you hold your hand up for me? Just wanna check your size.”

You offer him your arm and he wraps a small smartwatch around your wrist. “Perfect,” he mutters to himself.

“This is to call for security?” you ask.

“Yeah, just press this button on the side. It won’t make a noise. They won’t know you’ve called.”

“Why…why would I need this if everyone always leaves with a smile?”

“I’m sure it was suggested by a lawyer at some point, just a precaution.” Your hand shakes a little as he secures the strap for you. “You’re okay,” he says, obviously noticing your visible nerves.

You’re okay.

“I’ll take you to your room now, okay?” he asks, voice gentle. You look up to his face, counting a few of his freckles as you take a few slow breaths.

“Okay,” you say after a few seconds. He smiles then turns and leads you through a door to another long hallway. This one has many doors along each side, each one numbered. You count them as you go. He finally stops at door 14. “This is you,” he announces. He doesn’t open it, just turns and looks at you—clearly waiting for you to prepare yourself.

“Are they… in there already?”

“Mm, we stagger arrivals. He’s been here about 30 minutes.”

“He?”

“Oops, spoilers,” he says, offering you a playful smile.

You offer him a weak smile in return then turn to the door only to freeze, staring at the door knob like you had never seen one before. Felix waits patiently at your side. “What if he doesn’t like me?” you mutter under your breath.

“You know how long I’ve worked here?” Felix says in response, apparently ignoring your question. “4 years,” he continues. You look from the doorknob to his face. “I’d say about 80% of the people I lead to one of these doors ask me some variation of that question.”

“And they leave happy?”

He smiles and nods. “Mm.”

You grab the doorknob, ready to get on with it. “Felix?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you, really.”

“No worries,” he says, “you’ll be fine.”

You smile at him one last time and take a deep breath, pushing the door open. A chair scrapes across the ground and you look up to the man standing at a table in the middle of the room. You suppose, he’s yours. You wonder if he thinks you’re disappointing—if you’re not what he expected, what he hoped for. Felix places a gentle hand on your shoulder, helping you enter the room—the door closing behind you.

The man holds his arm out, gesturing to a lounge along the wall. You suck in a breath, only just realising you’ve been holding it.

“I saved you a seat,” he says, the first to break the silence. You suppose that was something like a joke, you’re too nervous to offer anything playful back. So instead you hurry over, dropping your bag to the ground as you collapse into the soft couch cushions. He sits himself at the other end, space for another two or three people between you. There’s two water bottles on the table. You should say something. Your name. Name’s are good. You fail to meet his eyes as you introduce yourself, reaching for the bottle instead.

“Minho,” he offers in return. You look up at him, a nervous smile on your face. He’s pretty, too pretty for you. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. You’re overdressed.

“Hi,” is all you manage.

“Hi.”

“Have you… been waiting long?”

One corner of his lips curves up. “No, not long.”

He doesn’t seem nervous at all. Why had he waited three weeks to respond if he wasn’t at all like you? “Ah, that’s good.”

“Nervous?” he asks, nodding to where you were twisting the cap of the bottle on and off repeatedly. You place it back on the table.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He stands, walking over to a bookshelf. “Do you wanna play a game?”

“A game?”

“They have a bunch here. Uno?”

“...sure.”

He pulls the deck from the pack as he makes his way back over. “You know how to play?”

You huff out a half laugh. “Uno? Yeah.”

He smiles. “Just checking. The only thing I know about you is your name and that you like yellow.”

You look down at your yellow sundress. You had stood out amongst the crowd on the bus, everyone in dark raincoats and jackets. It wasn’t cold, just wet. Your cardigan was enough. “I… It’s my favourite colour, yeah.”

“It suits you.”

You look up. He’s focused on dealing the cards. “Thank you,” you say, just above a whisper.

He flips a card over on the small coffee table and grabs his cards. You exchange small talk as you go. Your ages, what you do for work, if you have any pets. You talk about your cats a little, the first commonality you’ve discovered. You figure you’ll latch onto them whenever any come up, maybe more so than with any other stranger. The unspoken knowledge that you are supposed to be ideal for each other makes it feel like more is at stake. Instead of risking merely an awkward interaction with a stranger, you are both risking… well… your future happiness together.

He seems kind. Maybe a little reserved, but so were you. You get the feeling he’s holding a lot back, like he’s not entirely here. You wonder if his anxiety just presented differently to yours.

“Do you live alone?” he asks, slapping a pick up 2 on the stack. You slap one on top, looking up with a small smile. “Got me,” he says, returning your smile and then picking up 4 from the deck.

“I have a roommate: Mina. What about you?”

“Hyunjin. Met him at dance lessons years ago, he stuck to me like a leech.”

“So he loves you?”

He looks up from his cards, eyes flicking across your face for a moment before he answers. “Mm, I guess he does. Are you close with Mina?”

“I’m gonna be her maid of honour.”

“Ah.” He moves a few cards around in his deck. “Is she… with her—I mean did they meet through this?” He gestures to nowhere in particular with his cards, like he can’t speak the word soulmate.

A small knot of anxiety reappears in your chest. It had eased without you realising, returning now.

“Yeah, they met a year ago,” you answer.

“A year? That’s quick.”

“I guess.” You watch him continue to fiddle with his cards. “It’s your turn,” you prompt.

He looks up at you. “Right.” Then leans forward to grab a card from the deck.

“Is Hyunjin… has he met his?”

He places a colour change card down gently. “Green,” he announces quietly. You expect him to answer your question, but he doesn’t. So you take your turn. It isn’t until you’ve both had two more turns each that he speaks. “He hasn’t.”

You get the feeling you’ve said something wrong. You fiddle with your cards, realising you’re guaranteed a win. You look up at the man next to you. Is he a sore loser? You know nothing about him at all. You finish the game, looking up at him to see his reaction.

“Well done,” he says calmly as he begins to collect the cards, stacking them into a neat pile. You tuck away another tiny puzzle piece you can use to put together this person who was supposed to be your soulmate.

You look around the room, desperate to find another activity to save you from any awkward lulls. A big wooden chest catches your eye. You leave him to finish putting the cards away, wandering over to the mysterious chest. It looked like something that would be full of pirate’s gold. You bend down to lift the lid, conscious of the man appearing at the bookshelf next to you. It’s heavy and his hand appears to help you pull it the rest of the way up.

It’s full of clothes. Costumes and props. You pull a witches hat out, lifting it onto your head and smiling at the man next to you. He smiles back then retrieves a big sunflower hat. “Put this on, it matches your dress.” You drop the witches hat back in the chest. Then, before you can take it from him, he gently lowers the sunflower hat onto your head. You readjust it, feeling your cheeks warm as he bends down to search through the chest again.

When he stands he has a big red clown nose on. The serious expression on his face makes it all the funnier, drawing out a small laugh from your lips. “Try squeezing it,” he says stoically. You reach up, squeezing the red nose between your fingers. It squeaks, a lot like a dog toy. His mouth curves up a little in one corner then he pulls it from his nose, holding it out to you.

“You try.”

Your fingers brush together as you take it from him, a shiver running down your spine at the contact. His eyes on you as you attach the nose to your face makes you nervous. When you look up he wastes no time squeezing it, the high pitched squeak pulling the first actual laugh you’ve heard from him. You join him, the contagious quality of his loud laughter getting you more than anything else.

By the time you’ve exhausted the large chest of its treasures your stomach hurts, collapsing onto the floor as Minho pulls a big pink bow from his hair. “No, leave it!” you gasp out through your laughter, reaching out to wrap around his wrist before he can drop the bow into the chest. He joins you on the floor, his leg brushing against yours pulls your awareness to your hands. You pull back quickly.

He stretches his legs out, leaning back on his palms as you both catch your breath. It’s quiet for a moment. It doesn’t feel awkward. Your mouth tugs up at the corners at the revelation. “Why’d you take so long to respond?” he asks, bringing you back down to earth. A heaviness settles over you immediately.

“I uh…just wasn’t ready,” you answer, pulling a flower crown off your head. Your heart races in your chest as you prepare your next words. “You…took awhile as well.”

He pulls his legs to his chest, arms resting on his bent knees. “I wasn’t ready either.”

“You’re ready now?”

He’s quiet, eyes flicking between yours. Then he stands, offering you a hand up. You make sure your dress stays down as you let him pull you up, his hand warm in yours. He pulls you up effortlessly, fingers brushing together as he releases you. “Would you like to come over for dinner?” he asks.

“I… Yeah, sure.”

He walks over to a backpack under the table, pulling it over his shoulder. “Great, I think Hyunjin might be home tonight but he’ll probably stay in his room.”

“Tonight?”

He looks up at you. “Yeah… that alright?”

“Ye-Yeah.”

“Did you drive here or…?”

“Bus.”

“I can give you a lift home?” He says, eyes dropping down to his phone as he types something quickly. “I’ll pick you up later. Gotta get a few things for dinner.”

“I can get the bus.” You’re not sure why you turn him down.

He looks up at you, brows furrowed. “You sure? It’s probably still raining.”

“I like the bus.”

He steps towards you and you hold your breath as he reaches towards your hair, picking out a pink feather—a remnant from your dress up session. “I’ll pick you up at six?” he asks, close enough that your eyes fix on the freckle at the end of his nose. Your soulmate has a nose freckle. Soulmate.

“Six,” you confirm, voice a little breathy.

“I…told Hyunjin you were coming and he showed…a lot of interest. He might hang around, sorry.” Minho warns as he steps up to his door.

“I don’t mind.”

“He’ll keep you company while I finish up with dinner, anyway.”

“Alright.”

You follow him into his apartment, taking in your surroundings as he leads you to the living room where a boy with short blonde hair sits at a small table on the floor. He jumps up as you enter, a wide grin spreading across his face as he approaches.

“You’re here,” he greets you like you’re old friends, like you were here for him and not the man standing beside you. You offer him a friendly smile.

“I’ll leave you two to chat for a bit, i’ll be done soon,” Minho says before backing up towards the adjoined kitchen. You catch him giving his roommate a pointed look and then he turns, leaving you alone.

Hyunjin gestures to a cushion on the floor by the table, sinking back down to resume his position on the other. He pushes aside a notebook and as he closes it, you catch a glimpse of some sketches. “Can’t believe you’re finally here,” he says, propping his elbows on the table to gazing at you like you’d put the stars in the sky.

You drop your eyes to the table, feeling a little overwhelmed by his intensity. “Uh, I—I can’t really believe it either. It’s a lot.”

“Did it go well today?”

“Um…I think so. Minho hasn’t said anything?”

He looks to the kitchen then leans over the table so he can lower his voice. “He’s not particularly talkative. You may have noticed.”

“He…seemed a little reserved but so am I. I don’t mind.”

His plush lips curve up in one corner. “So it was a quiet session then?”

“Not…exactly. We played dress up.” You look down at the table, smiling a little to yourself at the memory. Hyunjin is quiet and when you look up at him again he has a soft smile on his face. You drop your gaze to the table, his closed notebook catching your eye again. “Do you draw?”

He sits back, pushing the notebook in front of you and flipping it open. “Mm, you can look if you want.” You flip through the pages as the boy across from you sits quietly. They’re mostly sketches of people, a few watercolours scattered in. You pause on a page of a silhouette, turned away—hair falling over their face. It makes you sad. You close the book, sliding it gently back across the table.

“They’re…really good.”

“Thank you. Do you like art?”

“I like it. I can’t do it.” You look over to the kitchen, wondering if Minho was an artist. You hadn’t asked.

“He’s not an artist,” Hyunjin says, like your thoughts are written across your forehead. “I know how it feels…all of this—it’s terrifying.”

“You—You know?”

He smiles sadly just as a loud crash comes from the kitchen. “I’ll check on him,” he says, standing and leaving you there at the small table. You take the opportunity to wander around the room, attempting to gather as much information about the man who was supposed to be yours. A small jingle draws your attention to a cardboard box in the corner of the room. A small cat is curled up inside, lazily licking at his paw.

“Hello baby,” you coo, crouching down to stroke his soft fur. “I have a friend at home who’d love to meet you.” You scratch his chin, the cat lifting his head so you can get a good view of his collar. No name tag. “What’s your name, baby? Which one are you?”

Minho had mentioned his cats earlier. You’d forgotten their names, too anxious at the time to retain information properly. You look back to the kitchen. Hyunjin hadn’t returned. You lean down to kiss the purring cat on the head and then head towards the kitchen, freezing when you hear the two men arguing—clearly attempting to keep their voices down.

“I did this for you,” Minho’s anger comes through his voice clearly, despite it being practically in a whisper. “I could lose Sana over this.”

“Shhhh, keep your voice down,” Hyunjin scolds. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?”

“Angry.”

“Because I’m working my ass off to cook for a stranger when I’d rather be with the girl I fucking love.”

You stagger back a step, kicking a cat toy across the hardwood floor. The men go silent, alerted to your eavesdropping. Hyunjin appears in the doorway, catching you as you take one more step back.

“I’m—I—” you stutter. “I’m sorry,” you blurt out, spinning and rushing for the door.

In your rush to snatch your bag from the small table your shin comes into contact with the sharp corner. The pain snaps you out of your panic as you drop to the floor, clutching your leg tightly against your chest as you rock back and forth. He loves someone else. He didn’t want you. He loves someone else. He lo—Hyunjin appears in front of you.

“Show me,” he says gently. You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. You wish you could pass out, just leave the next hour of your life to a clone of you. You can’t do this. You need to get out. You stand abruptly, grabbing your bag from the table and rushing for the door. Hyunjin hovers around you as you shove your feet into your shoes, heels hanging over the ends. “Let me drive you home,” he says, the gentle touch of his hand on your arm snapping your eyes to his. You’d felt comfortable with him since the moment you’d met. He felt safe. You don’t look over his shoulder properly, merely glimpsing Minho standing silently out the corner of your eye.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says, offering you a small smile. He opens the door for you and you fight the voice in your head that tells you to turn around, to take one last look at the man you’d thought was yours.

Hyunjin is quiet as you both walk down the stairs. He’s quiet as he unlocks the car and hands you his phone with the maps app open. He’s quiet as he drives you to your apartment. When the car is parked and the engine is off, you’re almost afraid to break the silence. You do it anyway. “Thank you. I know–I know we just met but you’ve been…very nice. I’m—just thank you.”

“Can I come in?”

You turn to look at your door, then back to him. “I—”

“Just wanna make sure you’re alright…and explain things a little.”

You’re not sure if you want things explained. You feel like collapsing into bed and crying until you pass out. The adrenaline has well and truly worn off, you're too afraid to look at your leg. You’re sure it’s bleeding. “Alright,” you mutter, opening the car door and stepping out on your good leg. You start hobbling towards your door as the sound of the car locking goes off behind you.

“Can I help?” Hyunjin asks.

“I’m fine. It’s fine.”

Mina isn’t home. You’re not sure if you’re relieved or disappointed. You’re not sure about anything. Hyunjin digs out your first aid kit after listening to your directions and joins you in the living room. He’s quiet as he cleans you up. It’s only when he closes the first aid kit that he speaks. “I don’t know how to say this without… without sounding like I’m trying to say I have it worse. I’m… just trying to explain this whole thing. Okay?”

You nod, emotionally drained.

“She died. My soulmate. I don’t know if Minho said anything,” the corner of his mouth pulls up into a sad smile. “I can’t imagine he would.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I do. Just… let me, please?” You sit back, giving him a slight nod. “She—It was… it was the day we were supposed to meet,” he stands up, placing the first aid kit on the table and then sitting next to you on the couch. You don’t know whether to turn your body towards him or give him all the space you can. You stay completely still. “I’m telling you this because I want you to understand why I did what I did. I… encouraged him because I love him like a brother and I want him to be happy. I need him to be happy and you’re—you’re the thing he can have that I can’t. I need him to have you.”

You can’t help looking at him, turning your body slightly as you try and find a position for your leg that doesn’t hurt. “He doesn’t want me.”

“He doesn’t know you.”

“I don’t think he wants to know me. He loves… someone else.”

“He’s infatuated with a girl he’s known for years. She doesn’t feel the same way. She sleeps with him because it’s easy and he’s there. It’s not… it’s not love.”

“I’m sorry. About what happened to you. I—I can’t imagine…” you stand, forgetting about your leg and stumbling a little as you catch your footing. He stands quickly, arms outstretched to attempt to catch you. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t want me. I can’t—” you cover your mouth as your voice wobbles, not wanting to cry in front of someone who was essentially a total stranger.

“Can we exchange numbers?” he asks. “If you ever want to get coffee or… anything…”

You collapse back onto the couch, digging through your bag so you can hand him your phone. Part of you wants to send him out the door and never see him again, breaking off any connection to Minho entirely. But then, the other part… it wants to hold on, to take Hyunjins hand and beg him to keep you. To help you convince Minho to want you, to love you. When he’s finished he hands it back, a heavy silence falling over the room.

“I’m not sure… if I'll want to keep in touch,” you say eventually.

“I won’t contact you. Just… message me if you ever want to talk or meet, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You have to tell me… please?” Mina says as she lays a blanket over your lap. She passes you the mug of coffee she’d made you. “Please?” she asks again.

“He didn’t want me. That’s it,” you say before blowing over the surface of your coffee and taking a small sip.

“It doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he want you?”

You shrug. “He found someone better.”

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“You said that.”

She’s quiet for a moment. You imagine what she must be thinking. Pity, probably. Her poor friend. Dumped by her boyfriend and then dumped by her soulmate. “You can’t give up. He’s—He’s yours.”

You lean over to place your mug down on the table. “What am I supposed to do? Bother him until he decides to give me his attention? I’m not begging someone to want me, even my soulmate.”

“Just speak to him. You haven’t even given him a chance to talk about it.”

You pull the blank up over your shoulders, tucking your chin into the soft warmth. “What if I cry?” you whisper. “I don’t… want to cry in front of him.”

Your friend leans against you, laying her head gently against your shoulder. “You’re brave. You’ll be okay. If you do cry and he judges you for it then he’s an ass.”

“I don't… think I can. Not yet.”

“Alright,” Mina whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Mario Kart?”

“Morning,” Hyunjin greets, a warm smile on his face—like you were two friends meeting for a casual chat. You look around you, at the other people sitting around engaged in their own conversations. You wonder if they have their soulmates.

You’d given in, messaging your Minho’s roommate only a week after rushing from his apartment. Minho hadn’t contacted you at all. You wished you were strong enough to let him go, but you weren’t. So here you were, attempting to form a connection with his roommate because you were too cowardly to message the man himself.

A hand waves in front of your face, snapping you out of your trance. “How have you been?” Hyunjin asks.

“Is that a polite ‘how are you’ or are you actually asking?”

His plush lips curve up into a small smile. “I’m asking.”

“I miss him. I don’t even know him and I miss him.”

“Mm, I get it,” he says, tipping sugar into the iced coffee you’d ordered for him.

“Has he.. said anything?”

He wraps his hands around the cup, tipping it back and forth a little. “We’ve… not really been talking. We had… a conversation that night and not much since then.”

Minho was really that angry at his friend for making him meet you? You look down to your empty cup. “Right.”

“He’d like to meet you.”

“Would he really or is this another set up?” you mumble.

“I didn’t force him. To meet you.”

“That’s what it sounded like.”

“I think… this is something he should talk to you about.”

“Alright.”

“You’ll meet him?”

“Not yet.”

Hyunjin twirls his straw around, playing more with his coffee than actually drinking it. “Would you like to come to a gallery with me? There’s one near here.”

“I have to go to work soon,” you say, watching as he drops his eyes to his lap. “But I can tomorrow?”

His eyes meet yours, one corner of his mouth lifting a little. “Alright.”

It becomes a regular part of your schedule, visiting galleries with him. Once a week, at least. He gives you a tour around the entire city's art scene, opening your eyes to a whole world you’d never bothered to explore yourself. He’s kind, easy to open up to and he doesn’t bring up Minho unless you ask first. It’s nice. It’d been weeks since you’d seen Minho. He hadn’t said anything.

“She was an artist, apparently,” Hyunjin says suddenly, eyes fixed on the large portrait you’d been appreciating. You think he means the woman in the painting at first but when you look at his expression, it’s obvious he means his soulmate. He hadn’t brought her up since the night in your apartment, after he’d finished cleaning your blood from your leg.

“Do you know much about her?”

“Her family invited me to the funeral. I kept in touch with her brother. He… told me about her,” he says, moving each arm behind him so he can lean back on the long bench you both sit at. A couple walks past you, more engaged in each other than the artwork around them. You’re both quiet as they pass. “If she was here, and I had the chance to know her—”

“I know,” you say, cutting him off. “I know. But… what if it’s not… everything people say it is. What if it’s a placebo effect? We all think this other person is perfect for us and so they are. We convince themselves they are.”

“Maybe. Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because clearly it isn’t working on him.”

He turns his body towards you, leaning closer. “Will you talk to him, please?”

You sigh. “Okay.”

“Really?”

You lift his hand from where he’s gripping his own thigh, intertwining your fingers. “I like you, Hyunjin. I like spending time with you and… if this will make you happy… I’ll do it.”

“It will.”

“Is he home now?”

He grins, pulling you up from the bench.

“You warned him?” you ask, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“Yeah.”

“He… he wants to meet?”

“Yeah.”

“Promise?”

He huffs out a light laugh. “I promise.”

“You’ll be nearby?”

“Cafe across the street,” he says, pushing you gently towards the steps to his apartment. “Now go. You’re okay.”

You trudge up the stairs, begging your body to be calm—to hide the anxiety coursing through your entire frame. You knock on the door before you can change your mind, sucking in a deep breath as it swings open.

“You came,” Minho says, brushing his hand through his damp hair. He stands to the side, holding the door for you. He looks calm, as always. His lack of anxiety during your first meeting made sense now. He didn’t care like you did. He was doing a favour for a friend. You hesitate, turning back behind you to the coffee shop where Hyunjin waits. This is fine. You step through the threshold.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks as you sit down on one of the cushions at the small table where you’d first met Hyunjin. He’s hovering by the kitchen, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else than here with you.

“I’m fine.”

He rocks back and forth on his heels for a moment then joins you at the table. You wait for him to speak; to explain. He taps his nails on the wood, the only sound in the room for a minute or two.

“I didn’t… want to hurt you. You seem nice,” he says, still tapping on the table.

You seem nice. Not exactly how you expected your soulmate to feel about you.

He flattens his palm against the surface of the table, then continues. “Has Hyunjin told you about… what happened? With his—”

“Yes.”

“He’s been here for me through a lot. I owed him this.”

You clench your fists in your lap, struggling to contain the sharp anger that bursts in your chest. You take a deep breath before speaking. “What about me?” you say. His brows furrow, like he doesn't understand what you have to do with any of this. Your nails cut into your palms. “You did ‘this’ as a favour to him. What about me?”

His palm curls into a fist on the table. “I don’t… owe you anything.”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t know you.”

“That’s the thing though, isn’t it? You don’t know me and you never wanted to know me. Hyunjin wanted you to try. That’s what he wanted from you and if you didn’t want to do that you owed me the courtesy of telling me. Instead you strung me along for weeks and then when we met didn’t say a thing about being there against your will.”

He’d taken 3 weeks to agree to meet you. You’d done the same, but he’d done it because he didn’t care. You did it because you cared too much.

“I had… to sort some things out before I could agree to meet you.”

“What things?”

His eyes drop to his phone, sitting on the table between you. “I needed to explain it to someone.”

He means the girl. The girl he loves instead of you. "That's what you were doing for 3 weeks?? Fucking her?!"

He looks up at you, brows raised. He scoffs, snatching his phone from the table and standing. "So what if I was? And don't act like I fucked you over, you took just as long."

You grab your bag, jumping to your feet. "I was questioning if I was good enough for you! I was sitting around feeling shit about myself and the entire time you were fucking the girl you love."

"You're acting like I was cheating on you,” he throws his hands up in the air, then points his phone at you. “I had no fucking clue you existed."

"You did though, you knew I existed. You just didn't know my name or my face."

"Same thing."

"No, it's not. You knew I was waiting for you. That I was thinking we were it. That we were meant for each other—”

"Maybe we're not,” he says quickly.

Both your chests are rising and falling rapidly as you catch your breaths. You step around the table slowly, moving closer towards him. He takes one small step back as you press your finger to his chest. It’s still rising and falling quickly, his breath mingling with yours. “You’ll regret letting me go. You don’t deserve me,” you warn, just above a whisper. His warm breath brushes against your skin and then his eyes drop to your lips. He takes a large step away from you, mouth pursed tight.

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