#Oh life is a runway
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cavetopeerskj · 15 days ago
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Alright, time for me to test how many tags I can put on a post
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dirt-str1der · 2 years ago
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hello i just wanna say i genuinely like ur observation about nishiki's fighting style and then ya manage to bring it back to ur 'drug addict nishiki' headcanon like it caught me off guard but im also not surprised that is so fair and real of u okay thank u
In a world where drugs dont exist, nishikiyama’s strength comes solely from his anger and i guess he goes to the gym too
#Thanks for the ask !#Yakuza loveblog#its not a headcanon his voice actor said so before he so does drugs and he does it to escape his terrible life ratpark style#i would in fact be more surprised to learn that nishikis rawdogging life i mean hes definitely not religious and i guess he has alcohol but#thats not enough for what he has to endure. we have to give him meth we have to let him do coke#like i have no reason not to believe he goes to the gym because he is literally vain and i bet he works out till he gets a six pack all#one my life sucks two my life sucks on the bench and he drags kiryu there too even though he hates going to the gym because it stanks and#the aircon is always blowing at the worst spots and the overhead lights oohhhh cant stand the bowling alley either he throws the ball as#hard as he can and it doesnt even touch the runway before its smashing into the pins thats why the y5 bowling completion is so easy he#wants to get out of there asap. im off track see everything goes back to kiryu i always neglect nishikiyama. like even kazamas like heres#some drugs now leave me alone and hea like hmm do i snort this or sell it. oh well SNNRRRT. like there is absolutely no reason for his#entire fighting style to be heavy attacks unless hes wired like crazy and its because hes so pissed off all the time plus hes teeming with#like. cocaine. hulking the fuck out. thats why kiryu feels so safe around him because he has every reason to believe that in a pinch nishik#i can grab someones head and pop it like a grape in order to save his life hes seen it happen before it wasnt just because he feels#comfortable and in sync with nishikiyama he literally has seen him punch someone so hard their skull caved in and hes like okay !#thats why he loves fighting him so much its because if nishiki punches him in the head he’ll just have to wake up the next morning in pain#its so fun trust me on this you need to be punched by your brother right now or youll die
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klemen-tine · 4 months ago
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Please Please Please (Mom! Reader x Batfam)
Don't prove I'm right~ I love that song so much. Anyways! Not extreme Yandere, but part 2 will have some. This is just the setting up for it. Also, while writing I won't lie, I forgot about Damien, so he will have a lot of showtime in the next part. FYI
TW: Cheating, slapping (Reader slaps Bruce), Reader also throws something at Bruce.
In now way do I condone partner violence. no matter how mad you get, you should never hit or throw something at your partner.
In case you have never heard this song before, first of all who are you? Secondly here is the link
@Rosecentury 
@Problematicreblogger
@Kurai-hono-blog 
@Lunaluz432
@testishere
Y/N had put her life on pause for Bruce and his hero complex. She is a top-model. A supermodel that is still being asked to do photoshoots, make guest appearances, and dominate the runway despite her time away from it. The strict workout regime was still her daily exercise, and she still was conscious of what she ate. Age had not affected her the way it has to some of her friends because Y/N lived to be a model. 
Yet, she had put that on the backburner for her husband and kids. She forced her attention onto the scarred and vibrant children that her traumatized husband brought in like strays. Y/N raised them, alongside Alfred. It’s because of them that their sons and daughters did not turn out as crooked as Bruce Wayne. A man that was full of jagged and sharp pieces, piercing the skin of whoever got close. 
E/C eyes rolled nearly out her socket, taking a sip of the morning coffee and waiting for her youngest to come down. She ignored the nervous glances being sent her way from her sons, and instead pulled out her phone to look for a familiar contact. 
“None of you have anything I need to be here for, do you?” Tim and Jason quickly shook their heads, and Dick gave a nervous smile, “Not really… although it would be nice if you stayed here though.” Y/N raised a delicate eyebrow, and a sharp smile formed on her lips as she pressed ‘call,’ “Ah, don’t worry Dickie, I’ll come back. I’m just going on a trip.” 
The person answered, and before they could start spewing curses, Y/N greeted them, “Hey, Jackie! It’s Y/N.” 
“Y-Y/N! What’s going on?” 
“Remember those gigs you were telling me about?” 
“Yeah?” 
“Book them.” The boys stood up while her manager on the other line sputtered in excitement, “Really?! Oh my gosh Y/N this is so exciting! Which ones do you want? I know you want to stay close to Gotham -heaven knows why- but I can find some in-” 
“All of them.” 
“...what?” 
“Book all of them.” Jackie hummed, “Some are out of the country though.” 
“Even better! Pack your bags Jackie, we are gonna be gone for a while. Bring Stella too, I’ll pay for both of your tickets and lodgings.” Jackie was stuttering, “The-the first gig in a week is Venice, Italy! Is that enough time for you to-” 
“Let's leave tonight.” 
“Tonight?!” Everyone screeched, and Y/N gave her sons an annoyed look, “Yes, tonight. Let's enjoy Venice like when we were young, and show Stella around. I’m sure the two of you could use a vacation anyways.” 
“....Y/N, is everything okay?” 
“Peachy. See you tonight.” Y/N hung up, and threw her phone on the opposite end of the couch, continuing to sip her cup of coffee as the news reporter continued to talk about Batman and his risky rendezvous with Catwoman. The perfect love story. 
The pursuer and the pursued. The cop and robber. Batman, the man of justice, and Catwoman, a thief. 
Her jaw clenched, and her fingers tightened around the handle of the mug. The air around her was full of jitters and Dick was basically vibrating with worry, Jason focused intensely on his phone, and Tim was drinking even more coffee. 
“Um, mom, are you… is this…” Dick was fumbling, trying to find the words, and Y/N smiled, “C’mon on Dickie. It’s been a while since I went on the runway, or even in front of a camera outside of Gotham. You’re all old enough now, it’s fine.” 
“What about Dami?” Y/N smiled sadly, “Dami will be fine. Hell, today I’ll have him help me choose the jewelry and clothes that I will be packing.”
“You’re gonna have him help you pack your bags to leave?” Tim wondered, and Y/N flinched out how terrible that sounded, “Not like that. It’s a trip. A fashion trip and a girls trip.” Jason scrunched his nose, “Ma, fucking Bruce just go caught cheating and was broadcasted across the NEWs, and you’re now leaving for a trip. Do you think Dami will understand that?” 
Y/N took a sip of her coffee, “He will. It’ll be a conversation but it will be reiterated as many times as he needs to hear it. Plus, it’s not like you guys can’t call me.” Damien came stomping down the stairs, dressed in the Gotham Academy Uniform, and Y/N threw on a smile that would have had actresses crying, “Dami! I need your help today, so nevermind school.” Green eyes blinked in shock, his gaze taking in every one in the room before landing back on her, “Are you needing my assistance in packing?” 
“Only for a trip. So there’s no need to pack everything.” Damien nodded, “Fine. I will assist you. You have an abysmal amount of jewelry and some of them are simply deplorable.” Y/N chuckled, “Thanks Dami.” He went back up the stairs to change, and Y/N turned back to the NEWs where they were finally talking about something different. 
Sighing, Y/N stood up from the couch, “I’ll be in my room packing if anyone needs anything.” Silence followed her, and once she was out of earshot, Dick proceeded to panic even more. 
+++
She’s in Greece now. After spending a week in Italy, a week in Iceland, two weeks in France, and now four days in Zakynthos, Greece, she knows her vacation time is limited. Y/N has been using Bruce’s card to pay for the three luxury hotel rooms, one for herself (obviously), Jackie, and Stella. She’s used them for the plane flight in first class, the first class train ride, the yacht to get to this island, the fancy dinners, shopping sprees, any time that she needed to put money down she was using his card. 
Bruce is a billionaire, he doesn’t care and Y/N is also a billionaire, but this is her way of being petty. Why would she waste her money? 
A delicate eyebrow raised at the man in the mirror, followed by two of their sons and a butler dressed in a Hawaiian shirt. 
“Lady Y/N, it is great to see you.” 
“Hey Alfie, vacation looks good on you. I highly recommend the mimosa’s here, none of them have been bad.” 
“Hi Ma, you look relaxed.” Jason walked further into the room, taking a seat on the plush chair and grabbing a grape, and tossing some to Dick. Their oldest son smiled and waved, “C’mon mom, I know you’ve been here before, but you could at least try and look like a tourist.” Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling lovingly and flicking her hair over her shoulder. She leaned close to the mirror again, rubbing sunscreen on her face and massaging it into her skin. 
Her husband made his way a little closer as the family spread out in the room. Jason sitting in the chair, Dick on the bed, and Alfred standing near the door. Y/N sneered at Bruce through the mirror, “Bringing the kids to see you get humiliated is something I would have never thought you’d do.” 
Bruce sighed heavily, and Y/N wiped her hands on the towel and sipped her mimosa. Piercing blue eyes, filled with exhaustion and guilt, met hers, “Y/N, how much longer are you scheduled for?” 
“Hmm, for a while Bruce,” She pretended to think, “After all, I’ve been wanting to get back into modeling now that most of the kids are becoming independent, and what better way to announce to the world that I am back than a hard launch.” Bruce raised an eyebrow at her, “Will it be my card you’ll continue to use.”
“Of course! It's the least my darling, idiotic, and hormone-rivaling-a-teenager husband can do after that stunt, right?” The room got colder and Dick sat up straighter at the tension between his two parental figures. Y/N has always had a sharp tongue and quick wit, one she used on Bruce a lot. Rarely ever was it aimed to be hurtful though. 
“Y/N, temper.” Dick’s jaw opened and Jason made an exaggerated gasp. Alfred looked pained as Y/N whirled around and seethed at Bruce, “Temper? Temper?! Who the hell are you to tell me to watch my temper when you can’t even control your own hormones? 
“If you wanted to see my temper you just had to fucking say so!” Dick turned to Alfred, trying to see if there was anything he could do, but at the resigned look the man gave him, the oldest son choked on a noise, “This is a new side of mom.” 
“Lady Y/N has always had a temper, one that rivals Master Bruce.” She looked like a puffed up cat while Bruce was cowing like a dog with puppy eyes, “When they were younger, she would put even the adults in their place.” Her hand grabbed the now cold coffee pot, and Dick feels like it was only because Bruce was used to stuff being thrown at him and catching things that he was able to grab the projectile before it landed on the walls and carpet. Alfred raised a brow, “Sometimes that temper bleeds into other things.” 
Their mother was seething in front of Bruce, looking like a bull and was ready to charge into a china shop. While Bruce may not be as delicate as one, Dick has money on Y/N still doing a lot of damage if she were to charge. Metaphorically and physically.  
“Y/N, please.” Bruce tried again, only to see her get more angry. His hands were up in a placating manner, and Y/N held her own hands tense and ready to swing if he came closer. 
“Y/N, it genuinely was an accident.” 
“ ‘it genuinely was an accident’–” She mocked, purposefully making her voice annoying “-fuck off! Like your tongue going down her throat is an accident. Didn’t know that could happen!” Y/N looked around again for something to chuck, while Bruce closed the space between them inch by inch. 
“What’s next? Are you going to trip and accidentally find yourself between her legs with your pants down?” Jason and Dick blanched at the imagery. 
“Over a decade of marriage, of me playing the perfect ex-model-arm-candy wife for Bruce Wayne just for you dressed in a fucking furry suit to go and makeout with another fucking furry! 
“Like! I know we weren’t in this for love, but there. Are. Still. Standards!” She enunciated each word with a swat of her hand on Bruce’s shoulder. 
“I still have standards! You don’t see me making out with anyone else do you? Even as I’m playing Supermodel Y/N, dressed to the millions and making everyone drool, I don’t go making out with them!” 
“How could Batman, of all persona’s you wish to play, do that? I expected that from Brucie, not Batman, defender of Justice or whatever bullshit you spew when dressed in that gothic suit.” 
Bruce sighed, “Y/N, it was bad timing.” He gave her a hard look, “Justice and this are different. You cannot compare the two.” The man knew he messed up once the words left his mouth and he closed his eyes in regret. 
Jason saw the slap coming and he braced himself for the impact it would have. Bruce didn’t catch it, despite him being fully capable of it, and when it landed everyone winced at the sound and the red mark. 
“Well this is my justice. Now go away. I have a photoshoot to get ready for and you are just pissing me off!” The hand print was immaculate. One that had Jason biting back a laugh and Dick looking horrified. Y/N whirled back around to face her vanity, where all her jewelry laid on the surface, and her attention was focused back on picking which one would go with her outfit to the shoot. 
Jason whistled when Bruce turned around to face his kids and Butler, “Good hit Ma. You should hit the other side to even it out.” Y/N gave a laugh, picking up the pearl earrings encased with gold, and she continued to pick out a necklace. 
“Jay, help me out here please.” Rough hands replaced her’s, and green eyes met furious E/C though the mirror. Using the safety of her son’s larger frame to hide herself, Y/N slowly let herself crumble a little bit. Jason could see the anger, hurt, and sadness that was slowly turning the sclera red from holding back tears. There was a subtle shake in her shoulders and the trembling of lips, but Y/N held it together. She was holding onto it by the seams, desperately waiting for the man causing her pain to be gone. 
When the gold clasped, Y/N reached over for her large hat and sunglasses, “Enjoy the beach. Alfie, you especially should enjoy this vacation. Don’t let this  stupid, untrustworthy, and manwhore of a furry disrupt it.” With that, she slammed her hotel room door on her way out, and they all listened as her heels clicked down the hall until they were out of ear shot. 
Alfred glanced at his ward, “Well, I am not one for violence when there are disputes between partners, but I will say that one slap was well deserved, Master Bruce.” The man sighed, slightly rubbing his cheek, “I think the last time she hit me that hard was when we were in grade school.” 
“She put all her body weight into that.” Dick glanced at the hand print, “Woah, I think you can see the ring too.” Jason whistled, and Bruce closed his eyes and took deep breaths to keep himself steady, reflecting on the conversation and where exactly he messed up. 
“I think this is the third time she’s slapped me…” 
“Fourth, sir.” Bruce nodded, remembering the third time. Jason raised an eyebrow, “I only know of the time you were both 6, and you said something mean so she hit you.” Dick pouted, “I know of the one in Middle School, when you were once accused of touching her butt.” 
Alfred raised a brow, “The third time was when she dropped you off at the manor after a long night of drinking and you—” 
“Thanks Alfred, there’s no need to tell that story.” Bruce’s cheeks were now flushed from embarrassment rather than the slap on his cheek.  Y/N truly has seen him through it all. When he got into fights in school, it was always her eyes he sought out after each one. Bored E/C eyes, framed by thick lashes and elegant eyeliner, always watching with a blank expression. Bruce Wayne rarely phased Y/N L/N. When he was younger, he noticed how his last name made people stumble or stutter when talking to him, allowing him to say whatever he wanted. It did nothing to Y/N, who met his gaze and taunts head on with her own witty comebacks that stuck at parts of Bruce that had him fumbling. 
He can remember his dad, Thomas Wayne, laughing when he caught Y/N’s sly comeback directed at Bruce after he said something about her dress. Y/N’s own parents looked mortified. 
Y/N L/N-Wayne was a flame that never wavered. It’s what made her successful at modeling, and a supermodel in her first two years. That flame is what had photographers, stylists, fashion designers, and make up artists still call her up, begging for her to come back. A force of nature that had only paused for Bruce and their children. 
“C’mon, Y/N. Even you can see the benefits of this.” The woman raised her brow at a younger Bruce, who was smiling at her. 
“Your life does not pause, and now with the Wayne name as yours, your options are endless.” 
“And what about you?” 
“This means I no longer have to play as a playboy in public and everyone will stop asking me to marry them or their daughters.” Y/N laughed, “Nah, you’ll still get them. They’ll just now be whispered behind closed doors.” 
Bruce smiled, “The standards of a regular marriage will still apply. Obviously not the sex part or anything, but everything else will. Think of it like living with roommates.
“This will work for the both of us, Y/N.” The woman smiled into the rim of her cup, red lips leaving an imprint on the glass. 
It took him five tries for her to finally agree. There might have been some manipulation on his side of things, but he got that ring on her finger, and 2 months later she was walking down the aisle in a wedding dress that was deemed ‘The Dress of the Century.’ She was beautiful, even more so than usual. 
Dick glanced at him, “So, what’s the plan?” Bruce sighed, “Just make sure she doesn’t get hurt.” 
++++
It took 4 months for Y/N to come back to the manor. Within those 4 months, one of them were always with her. Switching off when they hit a new city, and each one had tried their charm on having her come back to the mansion. Bruce was going crazy, therefore Batman was more brutal than usual, and that the meant the other birds had to pick up the slack when it came to emotions. Bruce had all but shut down every other part that wasn’t Batman. 
However, nothing returned to normal once she was back. Her and Bruce were rarely in each other’s presence, and she refused to see or do anything about Batman. Y/N was trying to remove herself from Bruce Wayne completely, and no one liked that. 
Bruce and Y/N may claim that they were never in love, and that they only married for convenience. However, Dick will always remember watching Bruce and Y/N dancing in the main hall of the manor. He was hanging onto the chandelier, not yet noticed by either, as a song began playing and they both began dancing. 
They had been dressed in casual clothes, which consisted of dark blue jeans and nice tops and shoes. Dick’s young eyes watched as the two of them swayed and twirled around each other, Y/N laughing at the whispered words Bruce would share, and the stern man relaxing for the duration of the time. 
They were far from the perfect couple. Their parenting styles were different, and it took a while for Y/N to warm up to Dick. She was never cold or malicious, but just like Dick and everyone else, she was lost. However, it was her awkward arms he sought after when he had a bad day, or when Bruce got on his nerves. It was her eyes he always seeked approval for. 
When she caught him hastily packing, dying to get away from the man that had his rules tighter than the Robin suit, she helped. Y/N had folded his clothes, snuck a bottle of Smirnoff and Titos into his luggage, because moving required at least two bottles of alcohol, and she hugged him goodbye. 
Every member of this family has a memory tied to Y/N. A gentle one. 
Damian had kind memories, where Y/N smiled at him for no reason. She did not expect perfection, and one time she stated how she wished Damian would fail sometimes. It was something that had him seething and jumping to defend himself, but Y/N laughed, “Failure is our best teacher, Damian. What better time to fail then when you knwo you have people willing to help you up?” 
Jason remembers peeking on Y/N when he was younger. Watching through the cracks of the door as she and Bruce swayed to music, laughed at old memories, or simply sat around each other and read a book. Sometimes, he’d catch her trying on her jewelry, or reorganizing her perfume. Every now and then she would go through her closet and donate clothes she no longer wanted or needed. 
He watched how Dick, would seek her out whenever he and Bruce argued. When Jason finally allowed himself to be wrapped in those arms– arms that always had Bruce looking ready to sacrifice everything, that had Dick relaxing, and Alfred smiling endearingly– and he can see why they did so. It's different from Bruce, because Bruce makes you feel protected. In Bruce’s arms, Jason knows that there is almost nothing that can harm him. 
In Y/N’s embrace, Jason feels at peace. There’s no need to worry about protection because he’s in a place that does not need it. When he dances with Y/N, to their song nonetheless, there is nothing that can ever disrupt the moment. Y/N stares at him with adoration, just how she does with Dick, only her attention is on him. Him! A street rat from Dowry, Crime Alley, and he has the attention of the woman that is Bruce’s equal in the highest social circles. 
Those soft E/C eyes, that always stared at them with warmth and love, stared back at him through the mirror. He and Tim, because Timmy loved her just as much as he did, watched as Y/N emptied another glass of the Rose, and how the exhaustion from all the shows, photoshoots, flashing cameras, and the ordeal with Bruce seeped into her bones. 
“Hey Ma, let's get some sleep.” Jason walked closer, carefully minding the scattered jewelry that looked more expensive than any of his weapons, and Tim, who was forever on the same wavelength as Jason, scampered over to the large bed and lit the diffuser. 
Y/N hummed, running her hands through her hair, before tilting her head back and looking at Jason once more, “You both shouldn’t be here. I can handle this myself.” Y/N never liked it when any of the kids saw her less than presentable. She was always dressed in nice clothes, with nice jewelry, and makeup even at the manor. It's one of the worries of being a model, she had told Dick, always scared that the nosey paparazzi will catch you at your worst and share it with an even crueler audience. 
Jason had once confided in her about Willis Todd, and how he hated it when she drank in front of him. Whether it was scotch or champagne. 
After that, Y/N always drank in her room. 
The thing is, that Jason knows Y/N wouldn’t ever hurt him. She’s not like Willis who purposefully seeked out to hurt someone smaller. Jason knows that no matter how mad she got at him, she wouldn’t do anything (unlike what she would do to Bruce).
This is why, despite all the trauma he has with alcohol and people being intoxicated, he can confidently move the bottle away and the glass. Noting how both were empty. 
Tim strolled over, and gave a small smile through the mirror, “I’ll brush your hair, Mom. Then you should sleep.” Y/N tried to wave him off, “Don’t bother. I can do it myself. You both should go.” She sluggishly reached out for the vintage decorated paddle brush, only for Tim to snatch it before she could. 
“I want to do it. Besides, if it bothers you, think of it as me returning the favor.” The confused look Y/N gave him had him smiling patiently as he stood behind her and gently began to brush the locks of hair. Y/N sighed, “This is embarrassing. My kids should not be taking care of me.” 
“I’m an adult.” 
“CEO of Wayne Enterprises as well. Taking care of you when you are in a low spot is the least I could do.” Lord knows how many times Y/N has cared for them at their lowest. When Tim believed that Bruce was stuck in the Time Stream, Y/N didn’t seem all that confident in it, but she still believed him and helped him narrow down locations. She kept the press busy while he went out and searched. 
He heard later that she refused to talk to Dick when she found out they wanted to put Tim in Arkham. She shook her head in disappointment when Dick told her that Damien is now Robin. Tim always thought Dick was a bit stupid on that part. Parading Damien, a child from another woman, around and in front of Y/N nonetheless. Yes, thankfully Y/N warmed up to Damien and vice versa (although for Damien it took longer),  but that could have gone bad in so many ways. 
“Still my kids.” Jason pulled a chair next to her, so they could all be in the view of the mirror, and in a rare show of affection that is only reserved for Alfred and Y/N, he rested his head on her shoulder as Tim continued to work the brush carefully through her hair. Y/N’s shoulders sagged and her back hunched a bit, and for the first time in a while, Y/N let herself look how she felt. Exhausted. Utterly and completely exhausted. 
Tim can see the dark circles under her red rimmed eyes, and the way her skin looked duller than usual. Granted, she finished a long gig, working tirelessly for months posing, getting dressed up, and traveling around the world to forget Bruce’s infidelity. 
‘Standards,’ she said in response to his excuse. Tim isn’t stupid to believe that neither Bruce or Y/N have feelings for the other. He’s seen it. It's in the way that Bruce concedes in arguments, or the flowers and necklaces he buys her when he’s apologetic, how the harsh glare that was directed at Tim when he first became Robin eased the moment Y/N pulled the boy close to her. Acting as a shield and sword for him. 
Her message was clear, and Bruce decided to read it. 
Y/N on the other hand lessened Bruce’s stress when he was CEO, the breaks from brooding to dance in the main hall to their song, or even acting as the sound of reason for him. She keeps him tethered to Earth, never letting his thoughts stray too far from reality. 
They may not be in love, but they still liked each other. Enough so that Bruce went along with her whims, just how she does with him. Enough so for Bruce to chase her across the world. Looking at it, perhaps Bruce was the one in love. 
“Jason, can you pass me the scrunchie?” He grabbed the silk scrunchie from large hands, and began braiding his mom’s hair. 
“You guys are being so silly,” Y/N huffed, and Jason beamed at her, giving her a boyish smile that he never shows anymore, “Anything for ya, Ma.” She subtly shook her head, a smile on her face as she looked back into the mirror. 
“Is this still about Bruce?” Tim kept his eyes on the braid, but from the tension in her shoulders, he hit the jackpot. Y/N brought her hand up to rub her forehead, “That idiot…” 
“Join the club, Ma.” Y/N took a deep breath, “He’s so stupid. It’s one thing to kiss another woman, which is fine. Do what you want to do, it’s not like we married for love.” A glare formed on her face, “But to get caught is another thing. Fucking idiot, he can only think with his hormones like a teenager. Even Dami isn’t like that, thank god.” 
Tim tied off the braid with the silk scrunchie, watching Y/N get heated again, “I hate him.” Except it was said with no bite, and the way Y/N’s lip wobbled had Tim hearing other words alongside the ones she mumbled. Jason leaned into her, offering her comfort while Tim watched from the reflection in the mirror.
Y/N to Tim was what Janet Drake had failed to be. He learned a lot from both of them, and it helped that both women were huge players in their social circles and socialites. They both taught him how to play with people’s perception of someone. Only Janet taught him to keep a straight face and not show emotion, while Y/N taught him that with a correct smile and a well placed chuckle, someone can be eating out of the palm of their hands. Both women approached the world with different weapons and tools, and both women used and taught them to him. 
Only Y/N also knew when it was time to put down the mask and become a reliable person for Tim, while Janet continued to only be Janet to Tim. 
He loves them both. Except, with Y/N he felt that if she were to ever leave him the way Janet did then he would have no choice but to follow and bring her back. Wherever Y/N goes, Tim will follow. 
“Boys.” Jason and Tim snapped their attention to the door, and Bruce was standing there, menacingly longingly. His face in an unusual expression, but one he’s worn a lot throughout the time Y/N was gone. An expression all the boys have gotten to know. Tim escaped, saying goodnight to both parental figures, before leaving for the cave. 
Jason pecked Y/N’s cheek, whispering good night and glaring at Bruce, “Don’t fuck this up old man.” To which Bruce sighed and nodded, closing the door after Jason. For the first time in months, it was just Y/N and Bruce. Alone with each other’s company and Bruce knows that if she could, she’d probably be strangling him right now. 
With great hesitancy, one that he could never show as Batman, he sat on the bed about a foot away from her. 
“I paused my life for you.” Y/N glared into blue eyes, “I paused almost everything, for you. For your mission. For the children you brought into our home, without asking me about it beforehand, may I remind you. I love them, and don’t you dare twist that, but I would have liked to have been consulted about it first.” Y/N didn’t want to be a mother. It was never in the cards for her, and yet here she is having more children than she had ever dreamt of. 
She loves them. She’d die and kill for them, but they were never in the cards of life she wanted dealt to her. 
“I paused so much, just for you to go and.. And… and do that.” Bruce winced at that, and Y/N felt happy that he did. Gritting her teeth, Y/N turned her attention to look at the fire. The heat of it reminds her of her own rage and the coldness she feels when in the presence of Bruce. 
Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes and bit back a groan, “And once I start getting my life started again, having fun, going on the runway and magazines, here you come storming back.” 
“You looked like you needed the break.” Y/N shook her head, “Did you know, that that is one of your worst habits. Always making yourself out to be the hero.” She took a glass of wine and watched the liquid swirl in the glass, “Of course, you let me have that moment. Of course you were thinking of me, and my happiness. How kind of you.” 
Bruce sighed, watching her sip the alcohol that left a red stain on her lips. He can remember the first time he saw her in red lipstick. Shockingly, it was in-person and the red made her skin look warm and teeth appear even whiter despite the knowledge that red lipstick can make your teeth look yellower. It was a beautiful shade, matched by her dress. 
She was beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Even as time progressed and she and he got older, Y/N remained beautiful. Defying the laws time and age as she remained ethereal. Unfairly so. 
Bruce had wanted to preserve that beauty, in the same way that many tried to preserve the flowers from the garden and the expensive smelling perfume. He wanted nothing more than for Y/N to continue smiling and for the fire to remain bright. 
To do that, he had to stay away. He could not allow himself to love her, because if he fell then he would drag her through the mud with him. Yet, here he is on the other side of that cold look, one that had him hesitating. That kiss with Selena was terrible timing all around. She had caught him in a moment of weakness, and someone just so happened to be there at the worst moment to catch it all. 
Staying away proved to be ineffective when here she is drinking wine with red-rimmed eyes and anger in her brows. 
“This marriage was never one for love, but there are standards. Ones we talked about beforehand.” 
“I know.” Y/N pursed her lips, tilting her head to the left and watching Bruce with distrustful eyes. The man sighed heavily and he sat in front of her, taking his own glass and pouring himself some wine. He didn’t like this type of wine, and from the very small scrunch in her nose Y/N didn’t like it either. 
The more he stared at her, taking in her still youthful features and eyes that burned bright, the more he could feel his emotions rising to the surface. Feelings and emotions he long tried to bury, but never quite succeeded. He had hoped that kissing Selena would just prove that he is only missing her as a sexual partner, and it only confirmed for him that he was in love with her. 
He is in love with Y/N L/N-Wayne. His kids are in love with Y/N. Alfred loves Y/N. The whole Wayne family, extended and all, are in love with this woman. This woman has nothing to do with their vigilantism, but instead reminds them that they are also normal and exist outside of masks and costume. That they are human and not shadows of the night. 
That they are the Wayne family. 
God, he loves her so much. So much. She is his weakness, his strength, his everything. The fancy cufflinks that are only brought out for special occasions, the expensive wine cracked open for celebrations, the pearl earring worn for the best performances. Y/N is the treasure of the Wayne family. 
Carefully, he wrapped an arm around her waist, slowly inching his way around her, testing the waters to see if she would shake him off or hiss at him. When there was no sign of that, he tightened his hold only slightly and pressed his forehead into her shoulder, gently laying a kiss on the joint, “Like I said, it was an accident. She caught me at a bad time, and I wasn’t expecting her to do that.” 
Y/N released a heavy sigh, and Bruce hugged her tighter, “I swear. It wasn’t consensual.” She rubbed her forehead, and Bruce watched how the lines slowly faded and melted back into her skin. Y/N never wore exhaustion well, which was why on mornings she had early photoshoots, she would sleep in her room instead of Bruce’s. She always woke up when he would stalk in and climb under the sheets with her. 
“Please, Y/N. Give me a chance. Let me take care of you the way you should be.” Y/N chuckled at that, “Careful Bruce, keep saying stuff like that and I might start to believe you have feelings for me.” Ice blue met E/C, and Y/N hesitated for a moment. Something chilling going down her spine, “I guess, I should start saying it more often then.” 
“Bruce…” He pecked her cheek, careful of the fire he was playing with, and carefully watching her reactions. His arms encircled her tighter, and he kissed her shoulder. Bruce watched, and observed how the tension slowly left her and reluctant acceptance came across her face. His arms tightened, and Bruce fought back a smile. 
“Ever the charmer,” She mumbled. Bruce huffed a laugh, and Y/N shook her head, “If I catch you with your mouth on anyone else’s but mine, I’m going to sick the kids on you.” An image of four rabid dogs, followed by a few more, filled his mind. Bruce grimaced as he remembered the tongue lashing he got from everyone, “Noted.” 
Y/N chuckled, and Bruce smiled, throwing his weight back on the pillows, bringing Y/N with him. His arms still tight around her waist, and a promise on his lips. 
‘I’ll never let you go again.’ 
________________________________________________
Not super Yandere, but it is getting there.
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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 3 months ago
Text
Mrs Norris
Pairing: Lando Norris x reader
Warnings: suggestive
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It was the first time in your career that you walked as a Victoria Secret Angel and you couldn't be more proud and grateful for the opportunity that was given to you. All the work and effort over the years paid off and you were finally able to check off one more thing on your wish list.
This was such a special moment for you, you were so excited to walk the runway with your wings and the fact that you knew your husband would be in the audience supporting you made that moment even special.
Lando took a private plane to NYC directly from his business commitments to support his wife and be her biggest fan. You weren't sure how he would fit it into his busy schedule, but one thing you were sure of was that he would be there. You were sure he would find a way because you knew he wouldn't miss it for anything.
But what you didn't know was that Lando was going to take your daughter with him as a surprise guest for you. He carefully planned everything so that the two most important people in your life would be there for you on one of the most important days in your career.
The show was just about to start and while you were finishing the final touches backstage, Lando and Isla settled in the front rows of the runway. Lando looked like he might as well conquer that same runway in his black suit with his shirt just unbuttoned. His mullet looked flawless, his curls stood out perfectly with his well-known necklaces around his neck, a watch on his wrist and his daughter on his lap, he looked like a god.
As the music started, you were getting more and more nervous, but in a good way, you couldn't wait to get out on the runway and walk your wings.
Words couldn't describe the adrenaline that ran through your veins once you stepped out onto the runway. You've done it a thousand times before, but this time it was a completely different experience. You felt so powerful, so proud and so important, like you could conquer the whole world, as if no one could stop you.
As you walked your eyes searched for your husband, and when they found him it took everything in you to remain professional and not let your motherly feelings get the best of you when you saw your daughter sitting on Lando's lap. Your eyes sparkled and filled with tears when you saw how happy she was, how she waved at you and shouted mommy!!.
"Yees!! That's my wife! I love you baby!!" Lando shouted proudly as you walked by and blew both of them a kiss.
"That's my mommy!" Isla said excitedly pointing her little finger at you.
"Yes, baby, that's mommy" He smiled looking how fixated Isla's eyes were on you.
"She's so pretty," She commented. "And she has wings?!"
"She is, isn't she? Do you like the wings?" Lando chuckled seeing how excited Isla got about them.
"I do!! Daddy, can I have them too?"
"Oh, baby" Lando softened. "Well, not right now, but maybe one day when you're all big and grown up. Even though I hope not.." Lando muttered the last part quietly so Isla wouldn't hear how he hoped his daughter wouldn't one day walk the runway in tiny lace lingerie set in front of a million people and cameras following her every step.
It's not that he didn't want her to succeed one day, but that's just not any dad's dream when it comes to his daughter especially not Lando's.
"But..I want them now, daddy" She pouted. "I wanna be pretty just like mommy"
"Pumpkin, you are just as beautiful as mommy. Daddy's gonna buy you smaller wings so they can fit you perfectly as soon as we get home, okay?"
"Okay." She agreed and Lando kissed her cheek before they continued to watch the rest of the models walk.
By the time the show came to an end, Isla was already too tired and fell asleep on Lando's shoulder. Since it was long past her bed time she didn't even mind all the noise happening around her, she was peacefully sleeping hiding her head in the crook of her daddy's neck.
Once the show was over, Lando, with Isla in his arms, headed backstage to congratulate you. You melted when you saw how tired your daughter was and felt a little bad that she wasn't in her bed right now.
"I'm so proud of you, Mrs Norris" Lando said kissing you as you hugged him over Isla.
"Thank you, baby. How..? How did you manage to do this?"
"Just wanted to make sure both of your biggest fans were there for you on such an important day"
"You're incredible..I love you so much" You said feeling so grateful for the immense support you felt from him, not only now, but always.
In his vows, he promised you that he would always be there for you and ever since that day, he has never broken that promise. He always did everything for you and you only. When it came to you, nothing was impossible for him.
"I love you too, baby. Do you wanna go to the after party?" He asked.
"No, I wanna go to the hotel with you and Isla."
"Oh, she's going over to grandma and grandpa's tonight" Lando smirked.
"What do you mean? We're in New York?" You asked confused not knowing that Lando's parents were there as well tonight.
"Let's say I flew them out here so she can stay with them after the show."
"Oh really?" You laughed already knowing what he had planned in his mind. "And why did you do that?"
"Because I knew what I wanted to do to you tonight." He smirked squeezing your hip. "Daddy needs to show mommy just how proud he is of her for being so marvelously beautiful and owning that runway tonight."
"Oh so I get to have my own personal after party?"
"Oh yeah" He smirked connecting your lips again. "Do you get to take that set with you?" He asked referring to what you were wearing tonight before you changed.
You moved closer to his ear and whispered "I'm wearing it right now under this dress"
He took a deep breath in closing his eyes picturing you again in it.
"Good, because all I could think about was how I'm gonna be taking it off you after the show ends."
When you were ready to leave the show venue, a crowd of paparazzi greeted you at the exit on your way to your waiting car. Camera flashes went off so hard it made it hard to see where you were walking. Lando took off his blazer and wrapped it around Isla to shield her since she was still sleeping undisturbed on his chest. He kept you both under his grip, his hand on your waist first pulling you closer to him then letting you walk in front of him so he can keep an eye on you while with the other hand he tightly held your daughter.
You weren't the least bit sorry that you weren't going to attend the after party with the rest of the models because you knew that the after party you were about to get tonight would be like no other.
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norrisainz33 · 4 months ago
Text
Glimpse || OP81
☆ summary: oscar’s long time girlfriend is rather private and always has been despite her family’s fame. slowly but surely fans start to discover more about her!
☆ pairing: oscar piastri x laeno!sibling!private!reader
☆ fc & warnings: various girls from pinterest & slightly suggestive, you are responsible for the content you consume
☆ requested: yes! sorry it took my literally forever. thank you for taking the time to request 🫶🏻
゚. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ゚
ynlaeno has made a post 🔒
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liked by nicolelaeno, oscarpiastri, landonorris, mclarenf1, yourbff, lilymhe, and 345 others
ynlaeno: festivals with my favorite sister means we get to serve fits again ✨
view all 23 comments
lilymhe: you are so hot
ynlaeno: no baby girl that’s you
alexandrasaintmleux: the world really is your runway
ynlaeno: you are one to talk 🤤
yourbff: bestie when are you going to be a model and grace the world with your beauty
ynlaeno: sooner than you think!
oscarpiastri: 🤤🤤🤤 god you look good baby
ynlaeno: thank you handsome 😘
landonorris: gross get a room
oscarpiastri: we have and you were mad about that too
landonorris: yeah bc your drivers room is connected to mine!!
ynlaeno: boys please 🫠
nicoleaeno: i love you sissy 🤍
ynlaeno: i love you more
mclarenf1: the most iconic sister duo ever
f1gossip has made a post
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liked by user2, user1, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user9, and 10,238 others
f1gossip: everyone’s favorite wag, y/n, has been featured in her sister nicole’s most recent dance video!! this is the first time she’s been seen in a youtube video so this is big news and seems she’s as talented of a dancer as nicole!! maybe this is a sign that y/n’s finally going to share more
view all 174 comments
user1: omg she can dance????? ugh i’m in love
user2: wondering if there’s anything y/n can’t do
user3: i wish we got to see her more often
user7: ugh me too y/n seems so cool
user4: i’m so jealous of their talent
user5: oscar is a lucky man , what i wouldn’t give for one chance
user8: no fr oscar is so lucky i mean look at her
user10: i’m begging one of you guys to get accepted as a follower on her insta so we can see what’s there
user13: working on it 😭
user9: y/n will forever be my favorite
oscarpiastri has made a post
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liked by ynlaeno, mclarenf1, landonorris, logansargeant, yourbff, nicolelaeno, lewishamilton, goergerussell63 and 345,194 others
oscarpiastri: a week off means i get to follow the love of my life around and support her as she crushes the NY fashion week runway. i’m so proud of you y/n 🧡
view all 722 comments
user1: FASHION WEEK?!
user2: she walked at fashion week?!?!?!? oh my GOD
user3: oscar im going to take your girlfriend
lewishamilton: congrats y/n! absolutely loved the collection
ynlaeno: thank you lew 😭
user5: y/n in her model era! lewis has competition fr
ynlaeno: osco 😭😭😭 thank you sweet boy
oscarpiastri: i love you gorgeous
ynlaeno: i love you more
oscarpiastri: simply not possible sweetheart
georgerussell63: and what can’t she do 💅🏻
ynlaeno: drive an f1 car!
georgerussell63: fair but you are good at karting! you even beat oscar last time!
user3: GEORGE DROPPING MORE LORE. she is good at karting??? y/n please let us know more about you im begging
mclarenf1: we love our fashion icon ynlaeno
user6: i knew this girl could dress but who knew she could own the runway too wtf
user7: y/n crumbs , thank you oscar
nicolelaeno has posted to her story
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user18: IS THAT Y/N?! SHE SINGS?!
user14: why is it that every day i learn of a new skill y/n possesses
user4: MOTHER Y/N
oscarpiastri: i can’t wait to see this 😍
nicolelaeno: it’s going to be a good one!! y/n FINALLY agreed to sing for me 🤍
yourbff: yesssss she finally decided to sing for a video?!
nicolelaeno: it only took a lot of bribing, begging and pleading!! ms girl loves her privacy but she’s too talented to not share
user16: just fell to the floor
ynlaeno: 👀 i’m so nervous for everyone to see this
nicolelaeno: don’t be, you’re so talented y/n/n 🫶🏻
nicolelaeno: plus the internet literally loves you
lilymhe: my talented bestie back at it again
user7: more y/n crumbs! thank you nicole
f1gossip has made a post
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liked by user2, user1, user3, user4, user5, user6, user7, user8, user9, and 10,238 others
f1gossip: this week on what lore are we going to learn about y/n: her and oscar were spotted out and about at an art gallery, she was in the background of an archery video that Nicole posted recently as well as a video from Nicole of y/n signing her favorite high school musical song and a video of her reading to a class of children has also surfaced. what do you all think about the ever elusive and private y/n being featured more often on social media?
view all 201 comments
user1: i feel like in the past month alone i’ve learned more about y/n than i ever had before despite her and oscar being together for so long
user5: obsessed with this. i hope we keep seeing more of y/n
user6: y/n just casually being good at everything again
user7: talented, beautiful, kind ,,,, she is the total package
user11: oscar’s really winning with her
oscarpiastri: yes, i really am
user11: oh my god it’s him
user9: just give me one chance y/n
user13: chat i love y/n so much
user12: very demure, very mindful, very cutesy
oscarpiastri has posted a story
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user9: gnawing at the bars of my encloser
user93: oh this outfit is eating
logansargeant: ok lover boy
oscarpiastri: hehe that’s me
user56: oscar your page is becoming a y/n fan account
lilymhe: god dmn i’m in love
oscarpiastri: get in line 😭
lilymhe: NO
user7: y/n crumbs, thank you oscar!
ynlaeno: omg baby 🥹🥹🥹🥹
oscarpiastri: you’re so beautiful
ynlaeno: you’re too sweet
oscarpiastri: and you’re the love of my life
ynlaeno: and you’re mine forever 🤍
alexandrasaintmleux: please tell her to send me that skirt
oscarpiastri: only if you send me leo in exchange
user8: i get it, if she was my girl id post her like this too
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user66: OMG ITS HAPPENING EVERYONE STAY CALM
user47: the way she went from 781 followers to 134,978 in 24 hours needs to be studied.
user6: this might be the most aesthetically pleasing feed i’ve ever seen
user8: the way oscar is in almost every single one of the comments saying how much he loves her and how beautiful she is 😭😭😭😭
user81: man is obsessed and i’m so here for it
user76 y/n’s biggest fan award goes to oscar 😭
user87: if my partner doesn’t hype up my every move like oscar does for y/n… i don’t want it
user32: oscar has single handedly raised my standards for men
user12: please tell me y’all saw all her story highlights of her singing
user16: don’t forget all the ones where she’s dancing 😭
user18: there’s nothing this girl can’t do
user98: i didn’t think i could love her more but honestly after this glimpse into her life,,,, i really do
ynlaeno has added to their story
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user66: HI (louder than everyone else)
user98: omg hi mother
alexandrasaintmleux: pretty girl!! i can’t wait to see you in singapore 🤍
ynlaeno: i can’t wait to see YOU!! its been too long since we had a girls night. let’s get dinner (without the boys 😉)
alexandrasaintmleux: yes please mon amor
oscarpiastri: pic credits?!
ynlaeno: thanks for the pic oscar, you’ve been trained well 😉
oscarpiastri: ☺️☺️☺️ i’m learning
ynlaeno: yes you are sweet boy
nicolelaeno: ok gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous. i miss you so much
ynlaeno: i miss you too bestie. i hope college is amazing
user56: i got a notif that you posted and got so excited
landonorris: you better text me before you drop THE post
ynlaeno: it’s taken me forever to pick the right pictures but it’ll be dropping shortly
landonorris: eeeeeeeeek
user9: first story on public omg 😭😭
lilymhe: i am outrageously obsessed with you
ynlaeno: and i’m obsessed with you my gorgeous bestie
user23: HI HI HI HI HI
ynlaeno has made a post
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liked by mclarenf1, oscarpiastri, nicolelaeno, nicolepiastri, landonorris, lilymhe, yourbff, carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, and 324,184 others
ynlaeno: something so exciting happened that i had to share it with you all. welcome to the page of the future mrs. piastri 🤍
view all 987 comments
ynlaeno: p.s. everyone say thank you lando for the impromptu photo shoot!! we love you dearly muppet 🫶🏻
oscarpiastri: thank you lando!
landonorris: you are so welcome. love you both to the moon and back ❤️
user4: no this is the cutest interaction i’ve ever seen im sick
user37: lando taking the pictures of them has me violently crying
user68: knowing lando took these pictures….. this might be the best thing to ever happen to me
oscarpiastri: i can’t wait to marry my best friend!! i love you my fiancé
ynlaeno: FIANCÉ!!! i know that’s right 🤍
user38: i love love
user27: THIS IS AN ICONIC FIRST PUBLIC POST
nicoleleano: SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP
ynlaeno: me too bestie
user45: icon status wow
georgerussell63: congratulations 🤍
ynlaeno: thanks georgie 🤍
lilymhe: i’m openly weeping 😭😭😭🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🤍🤍🤍
ynlaeno: 🤍🫶🏻😭
user96: she’s so real for this i’d come off private to brag about being engaged to the oscar piastri too
nicolepiastri: congrats you two 🧡
ynlaeno: thank you mama p 🤍
user46: best day ever for annoying ppl (me)
゚. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ゚
a/n: thanks for reading!!! been busy with life and also having trouble with ideas. hoping to get back into the swing of things during fall break 🫶🏻
゚. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ゚
disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction
© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform
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rafesangelita · 5 months ago
Text
♡ kook!sweetheart!reader walks her first runway for her own lingerie brand, and of course rafe has to have a front row seat.
warnings: rafe being a supportive bf, suggestive ending
a/n: trying a new fic layout, i hope you all like it as much as i do <3 lol i had the hardest time trying to decide on the song i wanted to use for this fic
you couldn’t believe the day was finally here. ever since you started your lingerie line, you wanted to have a runway show to showcase the beautiful pieces, and all thanks to rafe, he was able to make that possible. while your boyfriend insisted on being backstage with you, you told him to wait until you walked out for the finale, wanting to surprise him in full glam and a set you have yet to release. to say you were excited would be an understatement— you were literally having your very own victoria secret show.
with fashion bloggers, magazine editors, and most importantly; rafe, the man who believed in you more than yourself, being in attendance, you just wanted everything to take place smoothly. “oh my god, you look amazing!” you glanced up from the small vanity mirror, meeting kelce’s girlfriend’s gaze. “me?!” your eyes widened as you shot up from your seat. “look at you! kelce is going to lose his mind.” you laughed, admiring the way her makeup sparkled under the studio lights.
“you think so?” she smiled, both of you swallowing nervously when you heard a ‘okay, we’re on in five!’ over one of the staff’s walkie talkie’s. “oh, god, just what i needed to hear.” you joked. she hugged you before joining the rest of the girls in line. outside in the crowd, rafe was already taking pictures like a proud facebook mom, shushing kelce and topper once the lights dimmed and the music started. the intro to britney spear’s ‘gimme more’ began playing, the crowd letting out a series of ‘oooh’s’ and ‘ahhh’s’ when the first model walked out.
rafe was only recording for your sake, his eyes strictly set on his hands as he patiently waited for your entrance. everything that the models were wearing was something he had already seen on you behind closed doors. rafe couldn’t help but feel his chest bloom with pride as he looked around the beautiful venue. despite him paying for everything, you were the one who worked with the planner and coordinator to bring your vision to life.
and what a vision it was.
you had spotlights lining the runway, glitter littering the glossy flooring. various props were also placed on the sidelines. “look, here comes y/n!” rafe arched a brow at his friend, kelce clearing his throat awkwardly. “don’t get too excited, now..” rafe grumbled, eyes locked on your silhouette. the music reached it’s final bridge, your lingerie clad body illuminating the stage. rafe had no words. you were wearing wings like the angel you truly were, the rhinestones and embellishments on your set reflecting under the now multicolored lighting.
“you’re beautiful, babygirl!” rafe shouted, his eyes widening as you got closer. you looked ethereal. not one hair was out of place, your makeup done flawlessly to enhance your natural features. you caught sight of him, sending a wink his way before blowing him a kiss. “she’s getting it tonight.” he held a hand over his heart, watching the way your hips swayed as cameras flashed from every direction. rafe stayed standing up until you disappeared behind the stage, his smile reaching from ear to ear.
“now that’s a show..” he adjusted himself in his pants, posting you on his instagram with the caption; ‘she’s perfect.’
eventually, the event came to a star strucking end, your boyfriend meeting you soon after with a huge bouquet of pink roses. you couldn’t help the sudden wave of emotions from washing over you at the sight of him. “oh, rafe!” you threw yourself into his arms, being careful not to ruin your makeup. “you were so amazing out there, baby.” he rubbed your back. “yeah?” you pulled away, pecking his lips. “fuck yeah.” his voice dropped a few octaves, his hand finding the curve of your ass. “can you take those angel wings home?” he whispered.
“yes.. why?” you smiled mischievously. “cause i need you to walk for me again. naked this time.”
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sharkikive · 7 months ago
Note
Ken Sato with a supermodel!reader pls pls pls
Like they're dating in secret but accidentally reveals their situation and their fans go wild
OMG sure! Sorry this took time for me to write and I really do hope you'll like it <3
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runway to your heart (ken sato x supermodel!fem!reader)
Summary: A baseball player and a supermodel, both celebrities in their respective fields. A relationship that had to be kept under wraps.
It was supposed to be a secret... until it wasn't.
Word count: 6,913
CW: Fluff, slightly suggestive (he def talks you through it), Ken Sato being the boyfriend of the year
A/N: I tried my best in writing this because I am not familiar with both fields (baseball and modelling) so here you go! This was purely out of my own imagination and is very, very self-indulgent because damn, who wouldn't want Ken Sato in their life? Rich, soft spoken, a good father, and the list goes on. Hope you enjoy this one just like how I kicked my feet every single time Ken becomes THE boyfriend.
***
Cheers erupted throughout the whole stadium and through the speakers, mixing in with the noise in the dressing room.
Hair rollers tucked in, brush with powder dancing across your face, and a neutral expression to let the makeup artist do his magic. Your eyes dutifully closed as the artist worked on your eyelids, but your ears got sharper to hear the conversations around you.
You knew who the main topic in the room would be, and that was the man that had just scored another point in the game on screen.
“Oh God,” you heard one of your model colleagues groan. “Ken Sato is too attractive. Look at that smile, that body-” she stopped talking and addressed you next. “Y/N, isn’t Ken Sato so handsome? Imagine being his girlfriend. That would be a-ma-zing.”
Your eyes were still closed and you hummed an immediate reply. “He’s okay. I’ve seen better and-” You opened your eyes when the makeup artist told you that he’s done with your eyes. “He seems like a cocky bastard.”
Your colleague, Hina, gave an exaggerated gasp as she heard your reply. “You did not just say that about Ken Sato. If he isn’t your type, I wouldn’t know who else would be able to satisfy you. He is the most sought-after man.”
You shrugged. “You never know. Maybe I like a single dad who has to raise a kid on his own, with him himself having daddy issues.”
Hina narrowed her eyes at you suspiciously, before prancing over and stared at you. “You know that whatever you described was very specific? Y/N,” she said, almost quietly, “are you seeing someone?”
“Yeah, I’m seeing you, Hina.”
She clicked her tongue. “You know, you always answer so smartly. One day, Y/N, I will discover your secret!”
You chuckled, watching as Hina got dragged by the stylist, prepping her to get her up to the runway. Your turn was still a long way to go, so you were left with your hair held up by rollers, while your eyes caught a notification on your phone. You read the notification and smiled, but quickly returned to a neutral expression.
The message read: It’s another win for us tonight, baby. Can’t wait to see you after this. Good luck for your show today, and break a leg. I know you’ll do great.
You typed in a reply, quickly snapping a picture of your prepped face and sending it over to the recipient. You weren’t even able to put down your phone when the next reply came in the next second.
You swore, this person could make you smile without even knowing, which could be a very risky thing considering the nature of both of your relationship.
Looking gorgeous as always, baby. The text message read. I really am the luckiest man to have you.
You put down your phone as your name was called over; your turn was approaching fast. You were practically floating around from one point to another, having different hands adding last-minute touch ups.
The line was moving fast before it was your turn, and you could see that every one of the models who finished their turn returned with a grim look on their faces backstage. You looked at the small entrance, and when you spotted Hina, you quickly signaled for her to come over.
“Was the runway condition that bad?” you whispered to her, whose hair was going in different directions at once.
“They said they wanted to simulate an ‘extreme condition’ on the runway, right?” She did quotation marks.
You nodded, agreeing to her. “Yeah.” You inched up the line. “The theme for today’s show is extreme weather.”
Hina exhaled slowly as she attempted to fix her hair. “All I can say is that they managed to replicate it well.” She shook her head. “Good luck, Y/N. You’ll need it.”
You turned your head back to the front, your turn coming closer as the models in front of you went out to continue the show. It was a rapid show, where you finally had your turn right after Hina disappeared behind a row of clothes.
You understood what Hina meant as soon as one foot was out from behind the scenes. The runway was boxed within a transparent glass, protecting the simulation from the audience.
From years of experience, you put on your best face before walking down the runway, doing your best in showing off the collection.
You were sure they were trying to imitate a blizzard, but the worst they could offer to models wearing heavy dresses and high heels. You saw the model in front of you fall first, the strong winds knocking her back before as she couldn’t fight it back.
One rule on the runway: you keep on walking, no matter the condition. Walk over your fellow models, maintain your expression and show off what you have. It’s an unapologetic world out here.
But that’s exactly the reason why you’re known as the rule breaker around here.
While maintaining your face, you did a show of reaching out to the fallen model, helping her up to let her continue, but you figured this time around, being a rule breaker did have its consequences.
You knew the fallen model; she considered herself as your rival, always trying to one up you in every single aspect. Every, single, aspect including boasting about having a ‘sweetheart’ while you don’t.
Your rival, Mei, quickly took this as a chance to get back at you and embarrass you in front of the audience. She accepted your hand at first, but you realised that she was pulling you down instead of pushing herself up. Not enough with it, she added an extra push, disguised under the pretext of accepting your help to get up.
You were thrown to the side, and coupled with the condition on the runway, you almost tumbled off the path. Luckily, you managed to break the fall but as you landed sideways, you could feel the bruise forming near your right ankle. You cursed silently as you saw Mei picking herself back up and smirking in a split second before strutting away, leaving you stranded.
You knew no one was going to help you up as long as the show was on, so you braced yourself while continuing. Throughout the whole show, you managed to finish without breaking rhythm. You didn’t let the pain hinder you, although all you wished to do was to be lying down, giving your body a much needed rest.
Backstage after the end of the show, your manager, a sweet woman in her 40s, quickly rushed to you. A single mother of 2, Ms. Tornado as you’d like to call her, as she always seemed like she was caught up in something chaotic. She fussed over you, but you quickly brushed her away.
”Ms. Tor,” you cooed, hiding the pain with a calm demeanour, “I’m done for the day. Let’s go back.”
On the way out, you gave a signal of reassurance towards Hina, who looked worried while her right fingers were tapping on her left knuckles. You saw Mei smirking at you, offering no words to you. You gave her no satisfaction of seeing you in pain as you smiled back.
You knew that everyone had seen you fall on the runway, but that didn’t disturb you.
Your phone pinged with a notification. As you read the message in the car, you turned to Ms. Tornado on the driver’s seat. She understood your signal.
”Usual place?” she asked.
Unable to hide your excitement, you quickly nodded.
No further questions asked as she drove towards the city border, bringing you to one special spot you had practically owned with that one person. In fact, you’re sure that he had bought ownership over the whole area. Your smile grew wider as you spotted the person waiting on a camping chair with an empty one next to it, a campfire lit up.
You sneaked up from behind, forgetting the pain in your legs as you broke into a run, almost causing the person to tumble forward as you hugged him from behind.
”Kenji!” You exclaimed, your character a total 180 degrees from whatever you put on when you were ‘the supermodel who revived the fashion scene’.
With him, you allowed yourself to be comfortable; no pretense of having to check your posture, controlling your expressions or giving off a cold demeanour. With him, you were just Y/N, the girl who preferred to be nested in your home, finishing your time up by watching your same favourite shows over and over again.
Kind of ironic how you considered yourself an introvert yet landed a job that essentially thrusted you into the spotlight.
Kenji exclaimed your name back in the same energy you gave him, hugging your arms as he planted a kiss on the back of your hand. He stood up and dear God, you love this man so much. One of your features that contributed to your modelling career was your height, but you loved the fact that even then, he towered over you.
Ken Sato, the name that had revived Japan’s baseball team, who had acquired a celebrity status after essentially becoming the saviour.
Ken Sato, the man who had kept the audience on the edge of their seats as he scored yet another point in the game.
Ken Sato, the one man who had essentially saved your life while unironically revealing his one kept secret to you.
And Ken Sato, your boyfriend.
Though both of your relationships had to be kept under the radar due to your statuses, you were content with what you’re having now.
Who cares if people think you’re too ‘cold’ and that’s why no one wants you? A small smile played on your lips as you thought, Well, Ken Sato does.
How both of you met was bizarre, to say the least. You were out eating dinner alone, under the disguise that you always wore when you’re just a ‘normal’ citizen, when the ground shook. You were sure that there was a monster attack somewhere, but you were calmly eating dinner when the restaurant’s roof got lifted up.
Ultraman’s giant figure was punching the monster, and you were left gaping at the sudden loss of roof above your head. You quickly finished up your dinner, and when you were about to walk back to your condo, you saw the one thing that you were sure you shouldn’t.
You saw Ultraman shifting back into a human-sized figure and lo and behold, it was Ken Sato. Before, you never bothered to dig deeper into his life because you figured out that you would never be affiliated with the baseball scene. You knew he was famous and that was it.
You couldn’t believe your eyes so you gasped, but your hand wasn’t quick enough to muffle the sound until he turned back to look at you. Both were stone statues for a good minute before he finally spoke up at that time, “Um… can you keep… uh the… secret?”
You sure as hell did keep the secret that even after a drunken stupor, a one night stand then turned into a secret relationship with him, it was still safe with you.
You were so comfortable with him up to the point that it was nice to be yourself with him.
”What’s wrong, baby?” He planted a kiss on your forehead, bringing you back to the present. You inhaled his scent as you buried your face in his chest. “You’re thinking of something?”
You shook your head, tightening your grip around his waist. “Nah,” you mumbled. “Just thinking about the time we first met.”
He chuckled as he ruffled your hair. “I’m sure you did great in your show just now, hmm?”
You stayed quiet, debating or not whether you’d like to tell him what actually happened. He most likely hadn’t seen the show yet, but sooner or later he’d find out. It’s just a matter of now or later.
You were in your comfortable clothes; baggy t-shirt with cargo pants and hair tucked underneath a beanie. In public, people would usually leave you alone when you’re in this attire. Today though, the long pants were also an attempt for you to cover up the growing bruise.
You decided to keep quiet about the bruise, figuring later that he would find out and by then, you hoped it wouldn’t look as bad as it was now. You detached yourself from his hug, careful to not make it so obvious that you were limping. You took a seat, beckoning for him to come over.
Ken traced you with his eyes, lips locked before he smiled. He passed by his seat but didn’t settle down. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the sand, facing you. He leaned forward, crossing his arms with each other on your legs and rested his chin on top. He looked up at you, that same boyish smile he had whenever he was with you.
You looked at him, uttering, “Looks like my boyfriend won yet another game today.” You patted his cheeks, and he quickly grabbed your hands to hold them.
”It was the team, really,” he said humbly, but with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I was just one of the players.”
”Whatever you say, Mr.-eligible-bachelor-with-thousands-of-adoring-fans-waiting-to-be-picked.” You rolled your eyes.
He chuckled. “Little do they know,” he drew circles on your palm, “that I’m no longer available.”
He stared at you as you looked into the distance, the crashing of the waves filling in the silence between both of you. He stood up, cocking his head towards the shoreline. “Wanna go for a walk?”
You pressed your lips into a thin line, the trouble you had with your feet coming once again. You didn’t get a chance to answer as he knelt in front of you with his back towards you.
He gently pulled you on his back, your legs dangling on either side of his body as he piggybacked you. “Okay, let’s go for a walk,” he said, firmly placing his hands under your thighs.
You said nothing, circling your arms around his shoulders, your face buried at the nape of his neck. You loved the fact that you’re always calm around him, something that you’d always need after spending hours in a fast-paced environment for work every day.
As you walked along the shoreline, both of you pointed out stars shaped like objects, and he stopped at one point when you suddenly said, “I love you so much, do you know that?”
He laughed. “What’s with the sudden confession? I love you too, baby.” He gave your thigh a light slap. “And I’m glad to call you mine.”
”It’s time to go back, isn’t it?” You asked, hoping the answer would be no but knew the world would have to end for it to be.
He threw back his head to get a look of your face before uttering, “Sorry. I have a game tomorrow.”
You pouted slightly but knew that the circumstances wouldn’t change. Whether you’d like it or not, even though you didn’t mind your relationship was playing this way, both of you had your individual lives that didn’t intersect with each other.
Dates would always be a secret with limited areas you could go to, and you had to make sure you’re not seen within the vicinity of each other. If both of you needed to go to each other’s house, it felt more like you’re on an undercover mission.
Today, though, with you still on his back, he held onto you firmly and made his way back to his bike parked nearby some bushes.
”Kenji-“ you started, figuring that maybe he forgot that both of you were supposed to follow separate ways.
”Tell Ms. Tornado you’re staying at my house tonight,” he uttered, placing you on his bike’s seat, taking a helmet and helping you to put it on. “You’re sleeping at my house today.” He checked his watch. “I know that you don’t have any work scheduled for the next few days, right?”
You shook your head slowly, secretly happy that he actually kept track of your schedule. Your eyes searched for his from behind the visor, and you blinked slowly as he tapped your helmet.
“Stay at my house until you’re fully healed. Mina can take care of you.” He’s referring to the supercomputer his parents had programmed. He wore his helmet and leaned forward. If not for both of your helmets in place, he’d be resting his forehead against yours. “Of course, you’re welcome to continue staying until…” he winked, “whenever.”
He positioned himself in front of you, powering up his bike. You leaned forward, circling your arms around his waist.
Before your voice got swallowed by the roar of his bike, you said, “You knew I was hurt.”
Underneath his helmet he smiled. “I always do, baby. Always.”
***
One of the reasons you didn’t want to stay at his house for too long was because you knew you’d be too comfortable. It seemed that after the fiasco you ran into with Mei, Ms. Tornado told you that she was suspended from any work and your agency gave you time off.
So here you were, warm mug of coffee in hand, cross-legged on Ken’s sofa while wearing one of his hoodies. So far from your side, your manager was the only person who’d known about your secret relationship with the baseball player. You’re grateful that your agency was not the type to pry into your private life, so long it didn’t affect your work.
You made yourself right at home at Ken’s house. You could say that you became best friends with Mina, with her occasionally sharing stories about how Ken was when growing up and you helping her around the house.
You sunk in the plush sofa, watching a live show of another one of Ken’s games. You saw him turn to the camera, winked and did a secret sign that was directed at you. Seeing how he’s so expressive, you wondered whether Ken actually wanted your relationship to be public.
Even then, you wondered whether anyone actually noticed that Ken started doing the same pose to the camera whenever he scored a point, after he got into the relationship with you. Maybe the secrecy of your relationship was just held back by a single click to post on the Net.
As far as you knew, only five were aware of this relationship; both of you, your manager, Mina and Kenji’s father.
Rather than your own reputation, you’re worried more for Ken’s image. He just moved here from America, carrying the expectations of everyone who had set their eyes upon him. He rose to fame real quick, while you’d already established your foundation right in your hometown as you were raised through a family generation of models.
Night was approaching, and you did catch a message from Ken updating you that he would be joining the group dinner to celebrate their win first. He promised to come back as soon as the dinner was finished. While waiting for him, you caught Mina’s red bar from the corner of your eyes and you smiled at her.
“Y/N, Ken had actually asked me to ask you one important question.”
“Sure, what is it, Mina?”
Immediately, Mina displayed a projection showing a website of a furniture store. She changed the page to the ‘bed frames’ category.
“I was told that the bed broke last night. Ken told me this morning to ask you which ones would you prefer,” Mina said without any hint of emotion. “He didn’t want to disturb you while you’re sleeping this morning.” After remembering another point she added, “He said make sure to pick the strong ones.”
You, on the other hand, were already burying your face in your hand as your cheeks reddened. “Oh my God,” you groaned. He could go one day, one day, without making you blush. It didn’t help that Mina was delivering the message so robotically. Well, she was one, but you get the point. “Mina, can we talk about this… some other time? Don’t worry,” you pressed your lips into a thin line as you remembered how exactly the bed broke last night. “I’ll tell Ken that you delivered the message well.”
Mina backed up, doing her gesture akin to a nod. “Sure, Y/N.”
You turned your head towards the front door when you heard the door opening, and you stalked your way to your boyfriend, who was holding his jacket in his left hand. Your face fell when you saw that he was wincing, the skin near his eye bruised and his right hand gently pressing over the injury.
“What happened to you?” You fussed over him, requesting Mina to take a bucket of ice and a cloth. “Who did this?”
He winced once again, but grinned soon after. He threw his jacket on the sofa and grabbed your waist, kissing you, hard. It was like he was releasing whatever pent up frustrations he had the whole day, drunk in your kiss that you felt out of breath as soon as he let go.
You saw Mina hovering nearby, clearly not wanting to disturb both of you. You cleared your throat and Ken ran a hand through his hair.
Mina set down the requested bowl of ice and cloth, but Ken shook his head.
Ken uttered, “Mina, can you please bring a bucket of ice to the bathroom? I’d like to soak myself in the tub.”
“Sure, Ken.”
“Ken, you need to tell me what happened to you. You’re injured, for God’s sake!” Your eyebrows knitted in worry, but your boyfriend was displaying the opposite as he was happily dragging you along to the bathroom.
He only gave you a peck on your forehead as Mina helped to prepare the bath.
You wouldn’t let your eyes off his injuries, assessing how badly he was hurt. As Mina excused herself to leave both of you in the bathroom alone, he stripped and stepped into the tub. The water sloshed around as he settled down, and you gritted your teeth as you sat on the edge of the bathtub.
He lifted up his eyebrows, clearly teasing you. “Care to join me?”
You sighed, clearly dissatisfied at how he’s acting while not disclosing about what had happened to him until he returned with a black eye. You crossed your arms, not wanting to submit to his pleading eyes, not until he told you what happened.
Clearly, you were not strong against this man because now both of you were stark naked in the cold water, Ken hugging you from behind as he rested his chin on your shoulder.
“Now tell me what happened.”
Ken obliged. “So we went for a celebratory dinner at this one grilled meat restaurant.” He buried his face at the nape of your neck. “There was this one group of guys who clearly were too drunk. One of them,” you felt his arms tightening around your waist. “Was making inappropriate comments about your body. My girlfriend. Of course I got pissed and punched him. It was an easy fight, but I was unlucky to get this one hit. I won, of course.”
The knot in your stomach got undone, that heavy feeling finally lifting off as you laughed, relieved. You leaned backwards, muttering, “Oh, Kenji. My idiot Kenji. I really thought you had an encounter with a hater, someone that wasn’t afraid to punch you in public just because they hate you. I was so worried. But didn’t your teammates suspect anything? For you to react that way when they’re talking about me.”
“Even if they do find out, it doesn’t matter. Anyone who speaks like that about you deserves to be punched, baby.” The water sloshed around as he turned you around so that both of you were facing each other. He rubbed a thumb over your lips, his mouth lifting at the corners. “And guess what?”
You narrowed your eyes. “What?”
“I got a personal invitation from one of the biggest sports brands here. They’re inviting me for an official photo shoot for their new attire collection.”
“That’s amazing, Kenji!” you exclaimed, and he shook his head, a smile plastered on his face.
“And you know what’s the best part? It’ll be a duo photo shoot, a collab with one of Japan’s famous models.”
“A man?” you asked, still clueless.
“A woman.” He grinned, “With my woman.”
“Oh!” You slapped a hand to your forehead, not believing that you hadn’t caught on when your manager had told you that you would be having an upcoming photo shoot with one of the most famous athletes. No wonder Ms. Tornado looked all smiley when she was delivering the news.
“They were surprised when I agreed to it without much questions,” he said. “Said yes as soon as I heard your name.”
***
Your leg was all healed, Ken’s bruise subsided, and it was finally the day of the photo shoot. Obviously, both of you had to come from a different place and at a different time to avoid any suspicion, so the night before you had returned to your house, despite Ken showing you his puppy eyes to make you stay.
You left without looking back, having to reassure him that both of you would see each other tomorrow.
The day came. In the makeup room, both of you had your lips locked, only a slight nod of greeting when he first came in before you returned your attention back to the mirror in front.
God knew how much Ken Sato was holding back from pulling you into a hug as soon as he saw you in the room.
You saw him from the corner of your eyes, his eyes closed as he let the brushes and artist do their work. You smiled, your mind thinking about how Hina would most likely go crazy once she heard that you had landed a job with this famous baseball player. You figured that you’d let her find out by herself once the official photo shoot had come out.
In the studio, both of you exchanged a formal greeting before the photo shoot started, and you could see that Ken was trying to hide from forming a smile on his face. As the camera started clicking and poses were thrown, you could hear the photographer yelling out encouragement, including ‘Don’t be shy with each other’ and ‘Stand closer’.
You heard Ken slightly snicker, and he whispered to you subtly, his lips slightly brushing your earlobe. You shivered, and he was smart enough to not let anyone see what he was doing. “If only they know how close we are.”
“Last set!” The photographer announced. “This time around, I’d like to see some contact with each other. No looking like you’re two magnets repelling each other, but attracting each other instead.”
“Oh I can do that,” Ken said smugly as he followed the photographer’s instructions.
Funnily enough, he was the one looking like he had more experience in modelling as he followed the photographer’s instructions to a T, while you felt more like a deflated balloon guided by your boyfriend.
You promised you were a professional model, but with him, well, you faltered and posed like you’re a novice instead. Still, you managed to pull through the photo shoot as the photographer gave a thumbs up, fully satisfied with the session today.
You took some time to relax after the photo shoot alone in the dressing room. As you were leaning against the chair, your head turned to look at the door that just opened.
Ken’s head popped up through the space and he waved his hand. “Hey,” he whispered. He looked over his shoulder before slipping into the room, locking the door behind him.
“Ken Sato,” you said, more of a warning. “What if someone sees you coming in?”
“It’s fine,” he walked over to you, and lifted you up in a hug.
Naturally, your legs coiled around him as he firmly placed his arms around you.
“I wanted to say goodbye in person before I leave for my game this evening. You’ll watch the game live, right?”
“Of course, I’ll be there.”
You practically jumped away from him as a knock came on the door and panicked, you opened the closet door before shoving him inside. You shut the closet tight, catching his eyes trailing your movement through the bars before putting a finger over your lips to signal silence. Steadying your breath, you opened the door to find the photographer standing outside.
“Oh hey, uh…” you trailed off as you realised that you didn’t know the camera man’s name.
“I’m Yuichiro,” he extended his hand to offer a handshake, but you politely declined with a nod of your head. “It’s uh,” he nervously chuckled. “I thought that you looked great and I found out that we’re the same age. I was wondering if you would like to, you know, go have coffee sometime. As in, uh, I’d like to take you out sometime.”
“Oh, really?” You swore you could feel Kenji’s stare digging through the man���s skull as you stole a glance towards the closet behind you. “That’s too bad because I uh,” You silently prayed that Ken wouldn’t suddenly spring out of the closet. “I am too busy. I don’t even have time to drink coffee myself.” You gave a professional smile, hoping that the man would take the hint and walk away.
“Not even coffee?”
“Not even coffee.” You sighed, shaking your head. “I don’t drink coffee, actually.”
“Oh.” He looked surprised. “But I thought I saw you drinking coffee this morning at the set.”
You shook your head, pretending to be disappointed. “I’m afraid you are hallucinating, my friend. I don’t drink coffee. Anyway,” you clapped your hand, “I need to get ready to go to my next destination for another photo shoot, so if you could please leave?”
He looked disappointed as he nodded. “I mean, yeah. Please go on your way. Sorry to take your time.”
You smiled politely but as soon as you closed the door and locked it, you jumped over to the closet, the door creaking as you pried it open. You saw Ken sitting on the floor, elbows resting on his knees as his bangs curtained his eyes. You sat down in front of him, moving his bangs out of his vision.
“Kenji…?” you started, trying to gauge his emotions. 
He stayed quiet for a few moments, and you poked his stomach when it seemed like he’s not budging.
“Are you okay?”
He breathed in and out, before looking up. His eyes caught yours, but still you couldn’t read his expressions. “I experienced this new emotion,” he finally said.
You inched forward.
“You’re doing great, baby.” The compliment came out of nowhere that you were slightly taken aback.
“Kenji,” the grin on your face grew wider, “were you jealous?”
He never broke off his stare to you, and you found it so attractive. “I was.” His eyes dropped to your lips. “I was stopping myself from jumping out of the closet and announcing that you’re mine.”
“I am,” you uttered, ruffling his hair. “You better get going. You have a game to win.”
“I sure do.” He stood up and you mirrored his actions. Before he turned to leave, he kissed you on the lips and whispered again as he peppered kisses on your neck. “With this jealousy, let’s just hope the bed won’t break again tonight.”
***
Of course you lied to the photographer to politely decline his advances. Your schedule was free this evening and you had promised Ken you would see his game live. You dressed as inconspicuously as possible, donning on the merchandise jersey they sold to the public.  
Ken had offered you to wear his jersey, but that would practically mean announcing your relationship to the public. Tucking your hair under the cap, putting on fake glasses and looking at yourself in the mirror, you figured how Clark Kent had managed to turn people’s suspicions away from him being the superhero.
Now, you’re just one person among the thousands of show-goers filling up the stadium. You took up your seat, eager to witness the game Ken would be joining. Announcement blared throughout the stadium, signalling that the game was about to start. You heard your boyfriend’s name announced as he stepped onto the field.
Giants’ supporters cheered for him, and you joined in on the hype as you saw him giving his million-dollar smile to the crowd. You waited for the game to start, and truth be told, no matter how many times Ken had explained the rules of the game, anything barely stuck to your brain. Still, you tried your best to support him even though that meant cheering for him blindly whenever the others did.
The crowd went wild again as the Giants scored yet another point.
You got distracted by a notification coming to your phone. You wanted to ignore it, but as you saw Hina’s name as the sender, you had to sit down and open the message. She rarely texts you out of work, so there must have been something out of the ordinary. You felt your heart drop as you read the message, and a link towards a news website was sent together.
Your eyes caught her message first. Oh my God?! You’ve been dating Ken Sato?
You read the headline next. BREAKING NEWS: BASEBALL PLAYER KEN SATO AND SUPERMODEL Y/N IN A RELATIONSHIP?
You stood up together with the rest of the cheering crowd, but you had to wrestle your way through to make your way out of the stadium. You didn’t know what to do, Kenji was still in game and your feet almost gave way as your shaky hands opened the link to read the news.
Everything was summed up in one news article, and you felt your world getting smaller as you saw the pictures of the night Ken had piggybacked you after you hurt your leg, all obviously looking like they were taken in secret. You read through the whole article, your ears deafened by the sound of roaring cheers inside the stadium.
You were standing outside the stadium, and you looked back at the giant screen you could see displaying yet another shot of Ken doing his signature pose to the camera. You turned back to the news article in your hands, and read through the whole thing over and over again. Several lines caught your eyes, and you finally caught on who was behind this.
Photographer Yuichiro handed over the pictures of the two lovebirds having a secret date at the private beach, which was purportedly owned by Ken Sato. From the pictures taken, I’m sure everyone would come to one very obvious conclusion. The question is; do you find the relationship surprising, or are they a perfect match for each other?
You wondered if it was all planned by him; the photo shoot together with Ken. Was he testing to see whether you’d accept a date with him to assume whether you’d have a boyfriend or not?
You wanted to run away. But from what, exactly? Running away wouldn’t solve this problem.
Well, if it turned into a problem.
Cheers erupted again as you returned to the stadium, just in time to see the final score and then celebrating the Giants’ victory. Chanting swimmed through the crowd, and you gripped your phone tightly as you searched for Ken among the players.
You finally spotted him at the bench, and your mind was as equally noisy as the audience around you.
He looked in your direction, trying to search for you but before he could catch your eyes, his shoulder was tapped by a fellow teammate, showing him an article displayed on the screen.
Everything happened fast, you didn’t know that it was possible as your worst fear came to life in front of everyone. The giant screen in the stadium displayed the news article and the pictures of the both of you displayed in a slideshow. You could hear shouts of confusion and gasps among the crowd as all of them were looking at the same thing.
The noise of the crowd died down as Ken made his way to the edge of the field, where an interviewer was waiting to start the session. The topic of the interview was supposed to be about the win at first, but it had clearly turned into a different direction.
The camera focused on Ken, and you knew he was directly looking at you. He looked calm, the practised smile he had on whenever he appeared on screen.
“Ken Sato,” the interviewer started, as he looked into the camera, “The name that is no longer a stranger to every household. His return to Japan brought waves and hope to the Giants. But today,” she turned to him, “it seemed like you’re the focus on the interview for an entirely different topic. Who knew that this eligible bachelor was actually already taken? I have the man here with me, so, what would you like to say?”
The crowd was obediently silent as they waited for his answer. You felt your heart beating loud in your chest as you, too, anticipated what he would say.
For a split second your mind wondered whether he would vehemently deny the news, but you brushed that thought away. You trusted him.
“I do have a question for everyone here, first, though.” Ken swept his vision across the crowd. “Is it a sin for a celebrity, or at least someone who is quite well known by the public, I mean,” he shrugged, “I don’t wanna sound like I’m boasting or that I’m too full of myself thinking that I’m famous.”
There was a ripple of laughter through the whole crowd.
“Is it wrong for me to be in a relationship?”
Silence. A dread coming over you as you quietly anticipated that there might be protests coming from the crowd. No one spoke up until you heard a female shouting from the crowd, “No, it’s not a sin! Well, we would be slightly sad that our favourite bachelor is no longer available, but you’re still human!”
Your eyes travelled to the female shouting, and realised why the voice was so familiar. It was Hina. She saw you looking at her and she grinned, giving a thumbs-up.
“Thank you, random woman from the crowd,” Ken uttered. He turned back to the camera. “I think that answered the question. I’m still human,” he shrugged, his eyebrows lifting up as he announced, “and I fell in love with Y/N. We are happily in a relationship. I’m proud to say that she’s mine.” His eyes finally fall towards your direction. You could only discern his expressions and gestures from the big screen because he was too far from you. “I love you, Y/N.”
There was a momentary moment of silence that you could hear a pin dropping, and you feared that maybe, the public wouldn’t take it so nicely.
But soon, the whole stadium shook with cheers from the crowd. This time around, they were chanting both Ken's and your names.
Okay, so this was not the reaction that you had expected.
You saw Ken gesturing to you, asking to meet you privately after the game. You nodded, pointing to your phone to say that you would communicate through text.
He sent you a message for the meetup point, and you practically ran towards where he had wanted to meet you.
You saw him at the end of the empty hallway, the noise in the stadium a distant sound now that it was only the two of you. You ran into his arms and he caught you, laughing. You let your breath steady first before saying anything.
“Ken Sato… you…” you started. “You have this way of wording things. I never expected the whole crowd to just agree with you.”
“Hey, look at me.” He tilted your chin, and he gazed upon you. “Like I said, we’re still humans.” He kissed your lips. “And I fell in love with you.”
“Hmm…” You hummed, still feeling slightly worried.
Ken opened the article, scrolled down to the comments and showed them to you. “See, they’re all positive comments.” He cleared his throat, doing his best imitation while reading the comments. “Oh my God, they’re a perfect match for each other! I knew they were dating, it would be weird if they didn't date. Honestly, I don’t know how it happened, but I’m happy for them. Y/N, you’d be better off with me-” He stopped reading when he read one comment that irked him. “You know what, I’m going to report that last comment.”
You burst into laughter seeing how he was tapping furiously at the screen, blowing out an air of satisfaction as he finally reported the comment.
“There, problem solved,” he announced.
“You know that probably some time in the future that there will probably be people who won’t be satisfied.” You sniffed.
“Well that’s too bad.” He bumped his forehead against yours. “Because you’re already mine.”
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jupiterpilgrim · 5 days ago
Text
Drown With Me
Pt.2: Interpolation
Ningning x Minji x Male Reader
word count: 7K
part 1 | part 3
A/n: Pt.2 and pt.3 were supposed to be a single chapter, but it was split in two because of the block limit.
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I wish I could be everything you wanted.
Oh, here we are again. But this time we're going back in time. We journeyed into the past because some things must be witnessed. And I say 'witnessed,' not 'understood.' For understanding confines the subtleties of human connections to a singular perspective, and that restricts the strange language of the heart.
We're at a bar now, where a lot of stories start. This is one of those:
The lights are dim and amber, casting warm shadows over the polished countertops and the scratched wooden floor. It’s a quiet Tuesday night, a lull between the weekend rush and midweek regulars. You’ve been working here long enough to know the rhythm of it—the predictable ebb and flow of people looking for drinks to drown whatever piece of life was gnawing at them. But then, just as you’re stacking a row of freshly washed glasses, the door swings open, and in walks her again.
She hesitates in the doorway, framed by the cool, blue glow of the streetlights outside. The first thing that grabs you, as it did last night, are her eyes—huge, almond-shaped, and impossibly feline. The kind of eyes that make you forget what you were supposed to be doing. They dart nervously around the room before finally landing on you, and for a moment, she freezes.
“You again,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips. You lean casually against the bar, arms crossed, trying not to seem too eager.
She’s wearing a cropped, black leather jacket that clings to her slender frame, sharp and a little out of place against the pale softness of her features. Beneath it, a white tank top hints at the curve of her collarbone and the toned lines of her stomach. Her high-waisted jeans, faded and torn at the knees, hug her slim legs like they were stitched onto her body. The scuffed Doc Martens on her feet somehow make her look even more striking—an accidental runway model lost in a world of beer stains and neon signs.
Her broad shoulders, almost too strong for her petite height, square up as if she's trying to summon some hidden reserve of confidence. But it’s her shyness, that hint of hesitation in every movement, that makes her feel like a puzzle you want to solve. She brushes a lock of jet-black hair behind her ear, her eyes darting away from yours as though the floor might swallow her whole if she stares for too long.
You tilt your head toward the bar, beckoning her closer. “Second night in a row, huh? You sure you’re not stalking me?”
Her lips part in a soft laugh, so quiet you almost miss it. “Hardly. My friend dragged me here yesterday. Tonight… I just needed some air.”
Her voice is as soft as her laugh, tinged with a slight huskiness that adds depth to her otherwise delicate demeanor. She approaches the bar slowly, her movements careful, like someone who’s always aware of the space she takes up.
“Well,” you say, pulling a coaster from under the counter and setting it down in front of her, “welcome back to the quietest bar in town. What can I get you?”
She perches on the stool, her knees pressed close together, hands tucked into the sleeves of her jacket. “Um…just a Coke, actually.”
“Coke?”
She nods, her eyes flicking up to meet yours, only to dart away again. “I don’t drink much.”
“Second night in a row at a bar and no drinks? You’re full of surprises.” You grab a glass and pour the soda, sliding it toward her. “Not that I’m complaining. Makes my job easier.”
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear again, a nervous habit, you realize, but it only adds to the quiet allure of her presence. “You work here often?”
“Most nights.” You lean against the bar again, giving her your best casual smile. “And you? What’s your excuse for gracing us with your presence twice in a row?”
“I’m…” She hesitates, then shrugs. “I guess I just liked the vibe. It’s not like other places.”
“It’s not like most places because most places actually get customers,” you joke, gesturing to the mostly empty room. “But hey, if the vibe brought you back, I’m not going to argue.”
She smiles, faint but genuine. “It’s nice. Quiet. Less… intimidating.”
“Intimidating?” You raise an eyebrow, genuinely curious.
She fidgets with the straw in her glass, swirling the Coke absently. “Bars aren’t really my thing. Too loud, too crowded. I usually avoid them.” She glances up at you, almost shyly. “This one feels… different.”
You don’t miss the slight blush that creeps up her neck as she speaks, and something about it tugs at you. “Different’s good,” you say softly. “I like different.”
For a moment, neither of you speaks. The faint hum of the jukebox in the corner fills the silence, playing some slow, melancholic track that perfectly matches the mood. You watch as she takes a small sip of her drink, her lashes casting long shadows over her cheeks.
“So,” you finally ask, breaking the quiet, “what’s your name? Or should I just keep calling you ‘Coke Girl’?”
Her lips twitch into a smile again, a little more confident this time. “Ning Yìzhuo. And you?”
“Coke Boy,” you deadpan, earning a small laugh from her. “Kidding. It’s—”
The door swings open again, cutting you off as a group of rowdy patrons stumbles in, disrupting the peaceful bubble you’d been sharing. Ningning’s shoulders tense immediately, her fingers tightening around her glass. You can tell she’s debating whether to stay or bolt.
You lean closer, your voice low. “Don’t worry. They’re harmless. Plus, I’ve got your back.”
She looks at you, her eyes searching your face for something—reassurance, maybe. And whatever she finds there seems to calm her, if only a little. She nods, taking another sip of her Coke.
You don’t know why, but you can already tell she’s going to stay with you longer than just tonight. Something about her feels significant, like a spark of lightning caught in a jar. Quiet, shy, and utterly captivating.
The weeks bleed into one another, and before you know it, Ning is a fixture at the bar. Not officially, of course. She doesn’t work here, doesn’t drink much, and always leaves by midnight like Cinderella with a self-imposed curfew. But she’s here. Three nights a week, like clockwork, perching on her usual stool and ordering her usual Coke, sometimes daring to live dangerously with a Sprite.
At first, you thought she came because it was quiet, because she needed a place to escape whatever stresses her life held. But it’s become increasingly clear that the bar’s charm isn’t the only thing pulling her back. It’s you. And you’re not mad about it.
Tonight, she’s dressed like she always is—effortlessly cool in her slightly oversized sweater, rolled-up jeans, and her beat-up Doc Martens. Her leather jacket is slung over the back of the stool, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders like ink. She’s got her sketchbook with her tonight, the same one she’s been carrying for weeks. You’ve seen glimpses of the drawings—sketches of people, abstract swirls, the occasional cat—but she guards it like it contains state secrets, never letting you get a proper look.
“What are you working on this time?” you ask, leaning on the counter with the practiced nonchalance of a bartender-slash-business-student who definitely isn’t secretly invested in whatever she’s drawing.
She glances up from her page, cat-like eyes sparkling under the warm glow of the bar’s lights. “Nothing special. Just doodling.”
“That’s what you said last time,” you point out, reaching for a clean glass to wipe down. “And then you showed me that sketch of that old guy in the corner, and it looked like something out of a museum. You can admit it, Ning—you’re talented.”
She ducks her head, a faint blush creeping up her neck. “It’s not that good.”
“Sure,” you deadpan, “and I’m not the best bartender in this city.”
She laughs—a soft, melodic sound that you’ve started to look forward to more than you’d like to admit. “You’re not even the best bartender in this bar.”
You feign offense, clutching your chest. “Ouch. And here I thought we were friends.”
“We are friends,” she says, smiling up at you. “Which is why I’m honest with you.”
“Brutally honest,” you correct, smirking. “Fine. Tell me this: do all fine arts students have this much sass, or are you just special?”
“Special,” she says, sticking her tongue out. “And for the record, it’s not fine arts. It’s animation and visual effects. Totally different.”
You nod sagely, as if you know the first thing about animation or visual effects. “Ah, of course. Animation. You’re going to make the next Toy Story, right?”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. “Something like that. What about you, Mr. Future CEO? Made any spreadsheets cry lately?”
“Every day,” you reply solemnly. “It’s part of the curriculum in business administration. They don’t let you graduate until you’ve traumatized at least three Excel files.”
Her laugh comes easily, her shoulders relaxing as she sips her Coke. She looks comfortable here now, like this place—and you—have become a safe haven for her.
It’s nice.
She’s nice.
“You know,” you say, setting the glass down and leaning closer, “when you first started coming here, I thought you were just using the bar as a library with worse lighting.”
She raises an eyebrow. “And now?”
“Now I think you’re here because you can’t resist my charm.”
She snorts into her drink, nearly choking. “Your charm? Please.”
“Hey, admit it. I make this place bearable for you.”
She tilts her head, pretending to consider. “You do make pretty good jokes.”
“High praise from the queen of sarcasm.”
Her smile softens slightly, the teasing edge in her voice fading. “I just like talking to you. You make things… lighter. Easier to deal with.”
You don’t know what to say to that. It’s rare for her to let her guard down like this, and you feel a sudden, inexplicable urge to keep it safe, to make sure she never regrets being vulnerable.
“Well,” you say, keeping your tone light, “as long as you keep coming back, I’ll keep telling terrible jokes. Deal?”
“Deal,” she says, holding out her hand like you’re signing a legally binding contract.
You shake her hand, her skin warm and soft against yours. There’s a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—where the noise of the bar fades away, and it’s just the two of you. Friends. Companions in this odd little corner of the world.
“By the way,” you add, breaking the moment, “if you ever need a businessperson in one of your animations, I know a guy.”
“Let me guess,” she says, smirking. “He’s incredibly charming and makes terrible jokes?”
“Exactly.”
She laughs again, and for the rest of the night, the bar feels a little brighter.
Ning sits cross-legged on her bed, a pencil tucked behind her ear and her sketchbook balanced on her knees. The room is bathed in soft, golden light from the desk lamp Minji insisted on buying, claiming it was better for productivity. Across the room, Minji herself sits at her desk, perfectly upright, fingers flying across the keyboard of her sleek laptop. She looks like a Vogue spread come to life, even in her oversized knit sweater and black leggings, her shiny, straight hair falling effortlessly over her shoulder.
Minji’s skin practically glows, the kind of flawless complexion that makes you wonder if she’s secretly Photoshopped in real life. Her glasses—a stylish, rectangular pair with gold rims—rest perfectly on the bridge of her pointy nose, framing dark, intelligent eyes that seem to miss nothing. Her lips, soft and plump, are painted a subtle pink, just enough to look effortlessly put together. She’s everything Ning isn’t: confident, composed, intimidatingly perfect.
Ning chews on her pencil, staring at her friend’s back. “Hey, Minji?”
“Hm?” Minji doesn’t look up from her screen. She’s probably working on some group project for her international business course. Even in her downtime, Minji is an efficiency machine.
“How do you, like…” Ning hesitates, fiddling with the corner of her sketchbook. “How do you get guys to notice you?”
That gets Minji’s attention. She swivels her chair around, fixing Ning with a look that’s equal parts amused and curious. “What kind of question is that?”
“You know what I mean,” Ning mumbles, heat rising to her cheeks. “You always have a line of guys chasing after you. It’s like… you just exist, and they’re obsessed with you.”
Minji raises an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “It’s not like I’m trying to get their attention.”
“That’s exactly my point!” Ning groans, flopping backward onto her bed. “You don’t even try, and they’re all over you. Meanwhile, I could walk into a room naked, and no one would notice.”
“First of all, don’t do that,” Minji says dryly, folding her arms. “Second, you’re exaggerating.”
“I’m really not,” Ning mutters, staring at the ceiling. “You’re like this goddess of elegance or whatever, and I’m just… me. How do you make people like you?”
Minji sighs, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose in that annoyingly perfect way she does. “It’s not about making people like you, Ning. You just have to be yourself.”
Ning sits up, frowning. “That’s so easy for you to say. You’re perfect. People like you without you even trying.”
“I’m not perfect,” Minji says, though the way she says it makes it clear she knows she’s pretty close.
Ning snorts. “Please. You’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re the only person I know who actually looks good in those glasses. And don’t get me started on your ‘I just woke up like this’ hair.”
Minji chuckles softly, a sound that somehow feels condescending and comforting at the same time. “Okay, fine. Maybe I have some good qualities. But seriously, Ning, if you want people to notice you, just… put yourself out there.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not shy,” Ning mutters, pulling her knees to her chest.
Minji leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Shy people are fine, but if you never let anyone see who you really are, how are they supposed to notice you?”
“What if who I really am is… shy?” Ning asks, her voice small.
“Then be the best version of shy,” Minji says simply. “Confidence doesn’t mean being loud or outgoing. It just means being comfortable with who you are. People are drawn to that.”
Ning stares at her, skeptical. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not,” Minji admits, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “But if you don’t at least try, nothing’s going to change. And trust me, you don’t need to change who you are. You just need to stop hiding it.”
Ning chews on her lip, mulling that over. Minji makes it sound logical, like a formula to be solved. But Ning isn’t sure she can simply flip a switch and become “the best version” of herself.
“And if it doesn’t work?” she asks.
Minji shrugs, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Then it’s their loss.”
Ning laughs despite herself, the tension in her chest loosening just a bit. “You’re annoyingly good at this, you know that?”
Minji smirks, turning back to her laptop. “I know. Now stop overthinking and start being fabulous. You’ve got this, Ning.”
Ning watches her friend for a moment longer, a mixture of admiration and frustration swirling in her chest. If Minji says she can do it, maybe she can. But it still feels like an impossible climb.
“Hey, Minji?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Minji doesn’t turn around, but her voice is warm. “Anytime.”
The door to the bar swings open, and in walks Ning with a determined look in her cat-like eyes. She’s wearing a fitted white crop top that shows just a hint of her toned stomach, a plaid mini skirt, and her signature scuffed Doc Martens. Her hair is loose, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves, and there’s a hint of pink gloss on her lips. Tonight, she’s decided, is the night.
No more shy, stammering Ning. Tonight, she’s confident, bold, maybe even flirty. She’s spent the past three days psyching herself up for this moment, replaying Minji’s advice in her head like a mantra. Put yourself out there. Be the best version of yourself. You’ve got this.
The bar is warm and dimly lit as always, the low hum of conversation filling the air. She spots you cleaning a table, laughing at something one of the regulars said, your easy charm on full display. You see Ning and wave to her with a smile. Her heart skips a beat, but she steels herself. You’ve got this, she repeats silently, striding toward the bar.
Or at least, she tries to.
What she doesn’t see, in her single-minded determination, is the bright yellow Wet Floor sign in the middle of the room. Her Doc Martens hit the slick patch of tiles, and suddenly, her confident stride turns into a cartoonish flail.
“Shit—!”
She feels herself going down, her arms pinwheeling as gravity takes over. But just before she hits the ground, a pair of strong hands catch her, one gripping her waist and the other cradling her back.
“You okay?” Your voice is close—too close—and when she blinks up at you, she realizes her face is just inches from yours.
Her heart is pounding, and not just from the near-death experience. Your eyes, warm and concerned, lock onto hers, and she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “I—yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.” Her voice comes out quieter than she’d like, all the confidence she’d mustered evaporating on the spot.
You grin, helping her stand upright but keeping a hand on her arm to steady her. “That was a close one. You almost went full slapstick there.”
“Yeah, well, I like to keep things entertaining,” she mumbles, avoiding your gaze. Her ankle twinges as she shifts her weight, and she winces.
“You sure you’re okay?” you ask, noticing the way she’s favoring one foot.
“It’s just my ankle,” she admits. “I think I twisted it a little.”
“Let’s get you off your feet,” you say, guiding her to a booth in the corner. “Come on, sit down.”
“I’m fine, really,” she protests, but you’re already pulling out a chair for her.
Once she’s seated, you crouch down in front of her, gently taking her foot in your hands. “Let me check it out. I can’t have my best customer suing the bar.”
She snorts softly, despite herself. “It’s my fault for not seeing the sign.”
“Well, next time, try looking where you’re going,” you tease, flashing her a grin that makes her heart skip again.
You slide off her boot carefully, your fingers brushing against her ankle. She tries not to shiver at the touch, but it’s impossible. Your hands are warm and firm, and when you start to massage the sore spot, she has to bite her lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.
“You’re really good at this,” she says, her voice coming out a little breathier than she intended.
“Comes with practice,” you reply, focused on her foot. “My ex used to come home from work with sore feet all the time, so I’d give her massages. Got pretty good at it after a while.”
Ning’s ears perk up at the mention of your ex. “Oh?” she says, trying to sound casual. “What happened there?”
“She was… complicated,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “Kind of jealous. Possessive. A little manic, honestly.” You pause, then chuckle, shaking your head. “I guess I have a type. Crazy girls seem to find me.”
She swallows hard, caught off guard. “Is that why you’re single now?”
“Pretty much,” you admit, still massaging her ankle. “Taking a break from relationships for a while. Thought I’d give myself some peace and quiet, you know?”
Ning’s heart sinks, though she forces a smile. “Makes sense. Less drama.”
“Exactly,” you say, glancing up at her with a grin. “And besides, who needs a girlfriend when I’ve got customers like you to keep me company?”
She laughs softly, but it feels hollow in her chest. She watches as you go back to massaging her foot, completely unaware of the tiny heartbreak you’ve just caused. But she doesn’t say anything.
Because Minji’s words echo in her head: Be the best version of yourself. And tonight, the best version of herself is just a good friend. Nothing more, nothing less.
The dorm bathroom is small, humid, and filled with the faint scent of citrus-scented body wash. The door is open, so the fragrance invades the whole bedroom. The overhead light flickers faintly, casting a soft glow over the scene. Minji stands by the sink in nothing but a pale lavender bra and matching underwear, her skin luminous under the harsh fluorescent light. She’s methodically applying lotion to her arms, her long, straight hair pushed over one shoulder to avoid smearing it. Every movement she makes is precise, deliberate, like everything else about her.
Ning is by the closet, half-dressed, rifling through her limited wardrobe with a furrowed brow. She’s wearing an oversized graphic tee that hangs off one shoulder, exposing the curve of her collarbone and the straps of her bralette. Her plaid pajama shorts are crumpled, a stark contrast to Minji’s immaculate appearance.
“Can I ask you something?” Minji’s voice cuts through the quiet hum of the room, soft but with that unmistakable edge of curiosity.
Ning freezes, her fingers lingering on the hem of a black skirt she’s debating on. “Uh, sure. What’s up?”
Minji finishes with her arms and moves on to her legs, bending one knee and propping her foot up on the closed toilet lid. Her movements are unhurried, as if the question isn’t a big deal. “Where do you go every week? At night, I mean.”
She glances over her shoulder, her face warming under Minji’s unreadable gaze. “Nowhere. Just… out.”
“Nowhere?” Minji’s lips curve in a faint smile as she straightens up, tilting her head slightly. Her sharp, dark eyes scan Ning, taking in the flush on her cheeks, the way her fingers fidget with the fabric of her skirt. “That doesn’t sound like nowhere.”
“I mean it’s not anywhere in particular,” Ning mumbles, turning back to the closet. She grabs a random top to busy her hands, hoping Minji will let it go.
But Minji doesn’t let things go. “Ning,” she says, her voice calm but insistent. “You’ve been going out at least twice a week for the past month. You get dressed up, come back late, and you never say where you’ve been. It’s weird, because it's not something you used to do.”
Ning turns around, clutching the top against her chest like a shield. “It’s not weird.”
Minji quirks an eyebrow, her lips twitching as if she’s holding back a laugh. “You don’t think so? Because to me, it looks like you’re sneaking off to see someone.”
“I’m not!” Ning’s voice rises slightly in protest, her face turning a deeper shade of pink. She tosses the top onto the bed and grabs her sketchbook from the desk. “Look, I take this with me, okay? How could I be seeing a boy if I’m bringing this?”
Minji’s eyes drop to the sketchbook, then lift back to Ning’s face, skeptical but intrigued. “I don’t know. Art students have strange habits. Maybe you’re sketching him while you’re there.”
Ning groans, plopping onto the bed and flipping the sketchbook open to a random page. “It’s not like that. There’s a bar I go to. It’s… quiet, and it helps with creativity.”
“Creativity,” Minji repeats, crossing her arms as she leans against the sink. Her hair falls perfectly over one shoulder, her glasses catching the light just enough to make her look like a chic librarian. “That’s your story?”
“Yes!” Ning huffs, holding up the sketchbook like it’s evidence in a trial. “See? Just sketches. No boys, no dates, nothing like that.”
Minji steps closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies Ning’s face. “So you’re telling me you sit at a bar all night, alone, with your sketchbook? That’s it?”
“Well…” Ning hesitates, her fingers gripping the edges of the book. “There’s this bartender I talk to sometimes. But he’s just a friend.”
“A friend.” Minji’s voice is flat, but there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes. “What’s his name?”
“Does it matter?” Ning mutters, ducking her head.
“Probably not,” Minji replies, her tone maddeningly casual. “But now everything is even more suspicious.”
Ning sighs, flipping the sketchbook closed. “Oh, whatever! He’s the bartender. We talk. That’s it.”
“And you’re just friends?”
“Yes.” Ning’s voice is firm, but her cheeks betray her with their telltale blush.
Minji watches her for a moment longer, then does something that catches Ning completely off guard. She smiles. Not her usual poised, mysterious smile, but something softer.
“Can I go too?”
Ning blinks, sure she’s misheard. “What?”
“To the bar,” Minji says, stepping closer until she’s standing right in front of Ning. “If it’s so great for creativity, I want to see it.”
“You want to go to the bar?” Ning asks, her voice incredulous. “The one I go to?”
“Why not?” Minji shrugs, grabbing her towel and tossing it into the laundry basket. “It’s not a date, right? If you’re just hanging out with a friend, I don’t see why I can’t come along.”
Ning stares at her, unsure whether to laugh or panic. “Are you serious?”
Minji leans down slightly, her glasses sliding down her nose as she meets Ning’s wide-eyed gaze. “Dead serious.”
“But…” Ning struggles to find a reason, any reason, why this is a terrible idea. “What about your coursework? You’re always busy.”
Minji straightens up, brushing her hair over her shoulder with practiced ease. “I can spare a night. Besides,” she adds, smirking, “I want to meet this ‘just a friend’ of yours.”
Minji’s calm confidence is both reassuring and terrifying. She knows Minji means well, but she also knows her friend. Minji doesn’t just show up. She observes.
Still, it’s hard to say no when Minji looks at her like that, her dark eyes steady and full of quiet determination.
“Okay,” Ning says finally. “You can come.”
Minji smiles, a triumphant glint in her eye. “Great. I’ll get ready.”
As Minji walks away, Ning flops back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. This was supposed to be simple. Just her, the bar, and a chance to take things slow with you.
Now?
She has no idea what’s about to happen.
The bar’s hum is steady but quiet tonight, soft music playing from the jukebox, mingling with the low murmur of scattered conversations. You’re behind the counter, wiping down glasses and vaguely thinking about the economics lecture you skipped today when the door swings open.
You look up instinctively, and there she is—Ning. Except she’s not alone.
Ning walks in first, a bundle of energy in her casual but cool outfit: a cropped black sweater that shows just a hint of her toned stomach, paired with loose cargo pants that sit snug on her hips, and her ever-present Doc Martens. She looks great—like she always does—but it’s the girl walking in behind her that makes your breath catch.
Minji.
She’s dressed simply—an elegant cream blouse tucked into high-waisted, dark-wash jeans that make her legs look impossibly long. Her black hair falls in a sleek curtain down her back, and she’s wearing the kind of gold-rimmed glasses that make other people look like try-hards but somehow make her look even more stunning. There’s something about her presence—poised but approachable, with a quiet confidence that fills the room—that makes it hard to look away.
“Hey!” Ning’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts as she practically bounces over to the counter. She gestures enthusiastically toward her companion. “This is my best friend, Minji. You’ll love her.”
You recover quickly, setting the glass down and offering a smile. “Hey, Minji. Nice to meet you.”
Minji steps forward, her smile polite but warm. “Nice to meet you too. Ning comes here every week, I got curious and realized I needed to see it myself.”
You nod, trying not to seem too obvious as you take her in. “Well, welcome. Hope it lives up to the hype.”
Ning slides onto her usual stool, pulling out her sketchbook like it’s just another normal night. “He’s being modest. It’s the coolest place ever. And the bartender’s alright, I guess.”
You smirk at her teasing but find yourself glancing back at Minji. “What can I get you two?”
“The usual for me,” Ning says, flipping through the pages of her sketchbook.
“And for you?” you ask Minji.
She tilts her head slightly, considering. “Something light. I don’t drink much—health reasons.”
“Got it.” You start preparing the drinks, glancing at her again. “If you don’t mind me asking, health reasons?”
Ning's Coke is ready in moments, she takes a sip absentmindedly as she looks at her sketchbook.
“I have a heart condition,” she says casually, like she’s used to explaining it. “Nothing too serious, but I can’t really handle strong drinks.”
“Fair enough,” you say, sliding the glass across the counter toward her. “This should be light enough.”
She takes a sip, her lips curving into a small smile. “Perfect. Thanks.”
Ning, who’s been scribbling something in her sketchbook, looks up suddenly. “Minji has been really nosy lately, she wouldn't leave me alone until I brought her here, she's never done this before.”
“Oh yeah?” you say, raising an eyebrow at Minji. “Was she really that mysterious about it?”
Minji laughs softly, setting her drink down. “You have no idea. She’d leave without saying much, come back late, and when I’d ask where she was, she’d just shrug and say ‘out.’” She glances at Ning, her tone amused. “It was suspicious.”
Ning groans dramatically. “It wasn’t suspicious! I just didn’t feel like explaining.”
“Well, I’m glad you brought her along tonight,” you say, smiling at Minji. “It’s nice to meet one of Ning’s friends.”
“Best friend,” Ning corrects, nudging Minji with her elbow. “We’ve known each other forever.”
Minji chuckles. “She’s exaggerating. It’s only been a few years. But yeah, we’ve been through a lot together.”
You lean against the counter, genuinely curious. “How’d you two meet?”
“Orientation,” Minji says, glancing at Ning.
“At first I thought she was snobbish for being so serious."
“And I thought you looked like a troublemaker,” Minji counters, her eyes sparkling with humor.
You can’t help but laugh at their banter. “So, Minji, what are you studying?”
“International business,” she says, adjusting her glasses slightly. “What about you?”
“Business administration,” you reply, and her face lights up with interest.
“Oh, really? That’s great. What year are you in?”
“Third,” you say. “It’s not as glamorous as international business, but it keeps me busy.”
“It’s not glamorous,” Minji says with a small smile. “But it’s practical. And honestly, that’s more important.”
You nod, impressed by her straightforwardness. “So what made you choose international business?”
She takes another sip of her drink, her expression thoughtful. “I guess I like the idea of understanding how things work on a global scale. It’s a challenge, but I enjoy it.”
Ning, who’s been quiet for a moment, suddenly speaks up. “She’s being humble. She’s the smartest person I know. She even helps me figure out my art projects sometimes.”
Minji shrugs, clearly a little embarrassed. “I just give her feedback. She’s the real talent.”
You glance at Ning, your curiosity piqued. “What kind of feedback?”
“She helps me refine ideas,” Ning says, twirling her pencil. “Like, if I’m stuck on a concept, she’ll point out things I didn’t think of. It’s annoying how good she is at it.”
Minji rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of affection in her expression. “It’s not that hard. I just have an outside perspective.”
“Well, it sounds like you two make a good team,” you say, genuinely impressed by their dynamic.
Minji smiles, her gaze lingering on you for a second longer than you expect. “We do. But I think I understand why Ning likes coming here now. It’s… nice.”
“Yeah,” Ning chimes in, her voice a little softer. “It is.”
The three of you fall into an easy rhythm after that, talking and laughing like old friends. But every now and then, you catch yourself glancing at Minji, wondering what it is about her that feels so… magnetic.
The bar has never been livelier for you, not because of an influx of customers but because Ning and Minji have made it their unofficial hangout spot. At first, it was a bit surreal—Ning showing up with her best friend in tow, bright-eyed and eager to introduce her to her favorite bartender. But over the next few weeks, it becomes routine.
Monday Night
Ning and Minji arrive together, as they always do. Ning’s dressed in her usual casual style—cropped sweatshirt, ripped jeans, and her trusty Doc Martens—while Minji looks effortlessly polished in a tailored blazer over a white camisole and straight-leg pants.
“Usual?” you ask Ning, already reaching for the soda gun.
“Of course,” she says, hopping onto her usual stool.
“And for you?” you ask Minji.
“I’ll take the same thing as last time,” she says, her smile easy. “That drink was great.”
You get to work, sliding the Coke over to Ning and preparing Minji’s light cocktail. “So, how’s the week been treating you two?”
“Terrible,” Ning groans dramatically, opening her sketchbook. “I’m behind on like, three projects.”
Minji snorts, glancing at Ning over the rim of her glass. “That’s because you spent the entire weekend rewatching Spirited Away instead of working.”
“It was research!” Ning protests, flipping through her sketches. “It’s a masterpiece!”
You chuckle, leaning on the bar. “She’s got a point. Spirited Away is definitely worth rewatching.”
Minji raises an eyebrow. “I don’t disagree. But maybe she could balance her research with her deadlines.”
The two of you share a laugh, and Ning pouts.
“You’re both nerds,” she mutters, earning a grin from you.
“Guilty as charged,” you say, raising a random glass in a mock toast.
Wednesday Night
Tonight, Minji’s in a soft blue sweater that matches her dark-rimmed glasses, her hair swept back in a loose braid. Ning looks a little tired, probably from pulling an all-nighter.
“You look like death,” Minji observes bluntly as they sit down.
“Gee, thanks,” Ning says, dropping onto the stool and slumping over the counter.
“You okay?” you ask, sliding her a Coke without waiting for her order.
“Just tired,” Ning mumbles, sipping her drink.
Minji tilts her head at you. “So, did you finish that econ paper you mentioned last time?”
You perk up, surprised she remembered. “Yeah, just barely. Turns out writing about financial markets at two in the morning isn’t fun.”
“I could’ve told you that,” Minji says, her lips curving into a small smile. “But I bet you still nailed it.”
Ning watches the exchange, feeling a pang of something she can’t quite name. She clears her throat. “Hey, can we talk about something not boring?”
“Sure,” you say, turning to her. “What’s on your mind?”
“Aliens,” Ning declares, grinning. “Do you think they exist?”
Minji sighs. “Oh god, not this again.”
You laugh, genuinely amused. “Honestly? I hope so. Would make the universe a lot more interesting.”
Ning beams, satisfied, while Minji shakes her head. “This is why she likes coming here,” Minji says dryly. “You encourage her nonsense.”
“Hey,” you protest, “it’s not nonsense. It’s curiosity.”
Minji chuckles, and Ning feels a little less out of place.
Friday Night
The bar is slightly busier, but the two of them still manage to snag their usual seats. Minji looks radiant in a sleek black blouse and gold hoop earrings, her makeup subtle but flawless. Ning, in her oversized hoodie and her Doc Martens looks comfortable but feels distinctly underdressed next to her friend.
“You look nice tonight,” you say to Minji as you hand her drink over.
“Thanks,” she replies, her voice calm and self-assured. “Ning practically dragged me out of the dorm, so I figured I’d make an effort.”
“You’re welcome,” Ning says with mock pride.
“So,” Minji says, turning to you, “tell me more about your business classes. Do you focus on entrepreneurship or management?”
“A little of both,” you reply, leaning on the counter. “Right now, we’re working on case studies about startups.”
“Oh, I love those,” Minji says, her eyes lighting up. “Which case studies are you doing?”
As you dive into the topic, Ning finds herself zoning out. The conversation is engaging—Minji is clearly knowledgeable, and you seem genuinely interested in what she has to say—but it’s not her world. She fiddles with her straw, feeling invisible as the two of you talk animatedly about market trends and business strategies.
Eventually, she clears her throat. “Hey, do you think they’d let me draw on the walls here?”
Both of you turn to her, surprised.
“I mean, this place could use some art,” she says, grinning.
“Go for it,” you say, laughing. “Just don’t tell my boss I approved it.”
Minji chuckles softly, shaking her head. “You’re hopeless.”
“Hopelessly creative,” Ning corrects, feeling a little more grounded again.
Sunday Night
The bar is nearly empty, the quiet hum of the jukebox filling the space. Ning is doodling absently in her sketchbook, while Minji sips her drink and chats with you.
“So, what do you do for fun?” Minji asks, her tone light but genuinely curious.
“Work, mostly,” you admit. “But when I have time, I like hiking. Clears my head.”
“I didn’t peg you as the outdoorsy type,” she says, a hint of teasing in her voice.
You shrug. “Gotta balance all the business talk with something peaceful.”
Ning glances up from her sketchbook, watching the two of you. There’s something about the way Minji leans slightly forward when she talks to you, the way her smile lingers a little longer.
“Do you hike?” you ask Minji.
“Sometimes,” she says. “But only when Ning drags me along.”
“Hey, I make hiking fun,” Ning protests, jumping back into the conversation.
“You complain the whole time,” Minji points out, smirking.
“Because you always pick the hardest trails!”
You laugh, the sound warm and genuine. “I’d pay to see that.”
“Next time, you’re coming with us,” Minji says.
Ning blinks, caught off guard by the suggestion. She glances between you and Minji, unsure how to feel about the way this strange triangle is starting to form.
As the night winds down, the three of you settle into a comfortable rhythm, but Ning can’t shake the feeling that something is shifting—slowly, subtly, but undeniably.
The three of you have fallen into a strange, unspoken routine—meeting up not just at the bar but beyond it, like some evolving trio of mismatched energy. It feels natural, at least on the surface, even if Ning occasionally finds herself analyzing every interaction, dissecting every glance and laugh.
Tonight, you’re at the movies, sitting in a darkened theater. Ning insisted on watching the latest animated film, claiming it was "research" for her art, though the truth is she just really loves animated movies. You and Minji went along with it, no complaints. Ning sits between you and Minji, a giant bucket of popcorn balanced precariously on her lap.
Halfway through the movie, she notices how Minji leans slightly toward you, sharing whispered comments about the plot. Ning can’t quite hear what you’re saying, but the low rumble of your laugh makes her feel strangely uncomfortable.
“Pass the popcorn,” you murmur, your hand brushing Ning’s as you reach for the bucket.
She stiffens slightly, then relaxes. “Here. Don’t eat all the good pieces.”
“You’re weirdly protective of popcorn,” you tease, taking a handful.
“Popcorn hierarchy is a real thing,” she replies, smirking. But her voice sounds hollow to her own ears.
Minji chuckles, leaning closer. “She’s serious about it. She once bit my hand when I took the last caramel piece.”
“I did not bite you!” Ning protests, her cheeks flushing.
Minji glances at you, her smile lingering. “She absolutely did.”
You laugh, shaking your head. “I believe it.”
The sound of your laugh sends a pang through Ning’s chest. She knows it’s stupid, knows she’s overthinking. But the way you and Minji interact—effortless, like equals—feels different.
Later That Week
The three of you are at a college basketball game, seated in the bleachers. It was your idea this time, a way to do something “normal and fun” after a week of classes. Ning, determined to feel confident, showed up in a cropped tank top and tight jeans, her makeup more pronounced than usual.
But as the game goes on, she notices the subtle ways you treat her. When she trips on the bleachers, you catch her arm, laughing softly. “Careful, kid. Don’t want you breaking something.”
“Kid?” she echoes, raising an eyebrow. “I’m literally an adult.”
“Barely,” you tease, ruffling her hair in a way that makes her want to scream.
Meanwhile, when Minji leans over to ask you something, your tone shifts. It’s subtle, but Ning catches it. You’re attentive, leaning slightly closer, your voice quieter. When Minji laughs at something you say, it’s like the whole world fades out for a second, leaving just the two of you.
Ning fiddles with her phone, pretending not to notice.
At one point, Minji turns to her. “Hey, are you okay? You’ve been really quiet.”
“I’m fine,” Ning says quickly, forcing a smile. “Just… not a huge basketball fan.”
Minji studies her for a moment but doesn’t press. She turns back to you, asking something about the game. Ning doesn’t bother listening.
The Bar, One Week Later
It’s a typical slow night, the kind you’ve come to expect when it’s not the weekend. You’re behind the counter, wiping down glasses and occasionally glancing at the door out of habit. When it swings open, you look up, expecting to see Ning and Minji together as usual.
But it’s just Minji.
She steps inside, her presence as poised as ever. She’s wearing a fitted black turtleneck and a sleek gray coat, her hair tucked neatly behind her ears. There’s a calm confidence in the way she walks, like she owns the space without even trying.
“Hey,” you say, smiling as she approaches the bar. “Where’s Ning?”
“She’s sick,” Minji replies, sliding onto one of the stools. “It’s just me tonight.”
There's a hint of excitement in her voice, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. The absence of Ning—her usual energy, her playful remarks—feels strange. But Minji’s presence is undeniable, grounding.
“Just you,” you repeat, setting a glass on the counter. “Alright. What can I get you?”
Minji smiles, a small, knowing curve of her lips. “Surprise me.”
part 3
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yanderedrabbles · 1 month ago
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Yandere Cyberpunk Mercenary
A ruthless mercenary and you, his spoilt little catch.
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Mercenaries have a reputation for being mad dogs, so pumped up with biochem they can't even think straight. And Yandere! Mercenary is no exception.
Yandere! Mercenary doesn't care who's paying him, as long as he gets paid. He's put down rebels on Titan and toppled governments on Europa - the flags they fly don't mean a damn thing to him.
Yandere! Mercenary who's spent his whole life fighting. Who dreams of gunfire and chemical weapons and burning up in the atmosphere.
Yandere! Mercenary who rolls his eyes when he gets offered his latest job. Kidnap some rich kid and hold her hostage? Talk about easy money. Hell, he can get the job done and still have time for a drink.
Yandere! Mercenary with his prosthetic arm and cybernetic implants. With his lip piercings and neon mohawk. With his bloodstained teeth and sleepless nights.
Yandere! Mercenary who finds you easy enough. Out on a shopping spree in some fancy boutique. Like you don't own enough shit already.
Yandere! Mercenary who almost scoffs when he sees you. You're everything he isn't. Wearing some pretty pastel outfit straight off the runway, your hair dyed so subtly that he knows it must have cost a fortune.
Weak, spoiled little Earthling.
Yandere! Mercenary who follows you down to the parking garage and shoots your bodyguards full of tranq. Non-lethal, his contractor demanded.
Yandere! Mercenary who grabs the back of your neck when you try to run and slams you into your hovocraft. Your shopping scattered all over the floor and trampled under his combat boots.
Yandere! Mercenary who laughs at the way you claw and scratch at him. Normal nails and not titanium claws? What are you gonna do with those, sweetheart? Tickle him?
Yandere! Mercenary who throws you in the back of his hovocraft and hightails it out of there. Shit, this was easier than he expected.
Yandere! Mercenary who ignores all the threats you spit at him. He doesn't give a damn who your mother is or how rich your daddy is. He doesn't care how many people they send after you. He's getting this job done and getting paid and that's all that matters.
Yandere! Mercenary who realises he should have listened when the first team of guards show up. They almost blast him out of the sky and it's only his quick thinking that gets him out of there.
Yandere! Mercenary who swears as he hauls you out of his wrecked craft and through the neon soaked streets of the slum district.
Yandere! Mercenary who grabs your shoulders and shakes you like a rag doll until you confess that you have a tracker in your neck.
Yandere! Mercenary who pins you against the wall and grabs the knife strapped to his leg. Who wraps his hand around your thigh and pulls your leg around his waist so you have no choice but to press against the concrete.
Yandere! Mercenary who carefully cuts the tracker out of your neck.
Yandere! Mercenary who mockingly apologises when you flinch.
Yandere! Mercenary who licks the cut he left behind. Who sucks at the blood until you stop bleeding. Who trails his lips up your neck before pulling away.
Yandere! Mercenary who's titanium teeth glint red when he grins at you.
"Look at that blush. Did ya like that, pretty thing?"
Yandere! Mercenary who loves the dazed, bashful look on your face. Billionaire princess getting all hung up on herself cause of him? Ain't that a sweet piece of irony.
Yandere! Mercenary who stashes you away in a safehouse while he waits for his boss to contact him. Who realises he was wrong about you. Spoilt, yes. Arrogant, yes. But innocent too. Naive.
Yandere! Mercenary who spends hours telling you stories about the colonies he's visited. And you sit engrossed, eating it all up like you've never heard anything so fascinating, instant ramen bowls scattered across the shitty linoleum.
Yandere! Mercenary who watches your fear of him fade a little with each passing hour. Oh, he still frightens you. But your curiosity outweighs that fear.
Yandere! Mercenary who takes every opportunity to touch you, to reach over you. Who loves the nervous little glances you aim at him, the way you blush when he catches you staring.
Cute. And tempting too.
How long has it been since he's had a woman? Yandere! Mercenary who looks at you and wants to sink his teeth in.
Yandere! Mercenary who catches his breath when you grab his hand and ask to go with him.
"Please," you beg. "I want to see the galaxy."
Yandere! Mercenary who knows that he scares you. He ain't easy on the eyes and anyone with sense can see the notched dog tag he wears - one scratch for every kill.
So why the hell are you asking him to run away with you?
Yandere! Mercenary who finally realises the gold you wear is nothing more than a collar and chains. You're a pretty bird in a gilded cage.
Yandere! Mercenary who, for the first time in his career, decides to run out on a job. Who chooses you over profit.
Yandere! Mercenary who grins down at you as he straps you into the copilot seat of a stolen space cruiser. Nervous and innocent and all his to corrupt.
Sure, he'll show you the galaxy. He'll show you the whole damn universe. All from the comfort of his bed.
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solxamber · 3 months ago
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Roommate Rumble || Vil Schoenheit
You and Vil end up as roommates due to administrative error. Unstoppable force (Vil's perfectionism) meets immovable object (your chaos). It ends up working out perfectly.
and they were roommates!!!!
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You’re sitting in the most soul-crushing waiting room imaginable—stale air, uncomfortable plastic chairs, and the smell of desperation. You’re waiting for the housing office to process your late application, which, in hindsight, you should’ve done weeks ago, but hey, it’s college. Time isn’t real here.
Between borderline disastrous drinking sessions, last-minute assignments, and your general vibe of chaos, the fact that you’ve even made it this far is kind of a miracle. But now, thanks to your masterclass in procrastination, you’re about to get assigned a random housemate for the year. At this point, you’re too mentally checked out to care who it is. As long as they don’t steal your ramen, it’ll be fine… probably.
The door swings open, and in walks the most absurdly pretty man you’ve ever seen. Like, this dude looks like he stepped straight off the cover of a magazine. And not just any magazine—like, one of those high-fashion ones where people look all ethereal and judgmental at the same time.
You try not to stare, but it’s impossible. He’s got this aura about him, as if he’s too good for this building, this situation, this plane of existence. He walks up to the front desk, where the housing clerk is, predictably, typing at the speed of a snail.
“I’m here to check the status of my application,” the guy says, his voice smooth but with a distinct undercurrent of annoyance.
The clerk squints at her computer, clicks around a bit, then frowns. “Uh… what was your name again?”
The guy rolls his eyes, but still answers with the grace of a runway model, “Vil Schoenheit.”
You nearly choke. Vil Schoenheit? Isn’t that, like, some kind of celebrity? You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him on billboards for fancy skincare products or something. Now you’re really trying not to stare.
“Uh… huh,” the clerk says, now looking vaguely uncomfortable. “It seems… we may have, um, misplaced your form.”
Vil stares at her, and you can practically feel the temperature in the room drop by several degrees. “Misplaced?” he repeats, his tone icy. “You lost my form?”
“W-Well, not lost,” she stammers, “more like, uh, temporarily… not found.”
Vil’s eyes narrow, and you have to hand it to him—he makes passive-aggressive sound like an art form. “And how, exactly, do you plan to rectify this?”
The clerk clicks around desperately on her computer again, clearly wishing she was anywhere else. “Well, um, we’re going to have to randomly assign you a housemate. Since we don’t have time to redo the whole process… y-you’ll just have to— Oh, wait!” She pauses, glancing between you and Vil. “You both applied at the same time, so you can just… be housemates! Problem solved!”
There’s a beat of absolute silence as you and Vil both process this. You glance at him, and he glances back, slowly looking you up and down with the precision of someone scanning for flaws in a diamond.
Finally, he sighs, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “Acceptable.”
You blink, unsure whether you should feel insulted or… flattered? He says it with the same tone you’d use to describe a pair of shoes that don’t quite match your outfit, but are passable in a pinch.
You don’t even get the chance to respond because, let’s be real, your brain is still trying to catch up. Did Vil Schoenheit just say you were “acceptable” as a housemate?
Honestly, though, you shrug it off. If you’re being real, as long as he stays in his room and you stay in yours, who cares if you’re housemates with a guy who looks like he bathes in designer moisturizer?
“Great!” the clerk chirps, relieved to have avoided death by model glare. “You’re all set, then! Enjoy your semester!”
You glance at Vil one more time, who’s already looking like he regrets every life choice that led him here. Meanwhile, you’re just hoping he doesn’t judge you for eating pizza rolls at 3 AM.
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It's three days into this whole housemate arrangement with Vil, and honestly, it’s not bad. You’ve barely even crossed each other’s paths, which works out perfectly. He does his thing, you do your thing—totally peaceful.
You stumble out of bed one morning, still half-asleep, grab the first set of clothes you can find on the floor (you’re 90% sure these jeans don’t belong to you), and zombie-walk your way to the kitchen. You’re already 15 minutes late to class, but who cares? Time isn’t real, and neither is your motivation.
As you shuffle in, you spot Vil at the counter. He’s sitting there, back straight, eating what looks like a perfect, Instagram-worthy breakfast. It’s all eggs and avocado toast and some kind of smoothie that’s probably made from fruits you’ve never even heard of. He’s impeccably dressed, even though it’s like 7 AM, and you can’t help but be mildly impressed. The guy is a full-time student, works as a model and actor, and still manages to look like he just walked off a red carpet.
Meanwhile, you’re over here in a mismatched hoodie and some band T-shirt from high school, hair resembling a rat’s nest, and the sheer determination of a person who’s willing to eat raw cereal to survive.
You try to be polite, offering Vil a smile. Or at least, what you think is a smile. It’s probably more of a grimace, to be honest. You’re running on fumes, and it shows.
Vil glances at you, eyes narrowing like he’s silently assessing every poor life choice you’ve made up to this point. Still, he says nothing, just gives a tiny nod of acknowledgment.
You head straight for the pantry, grab a box of cereal, and rip open a Red Bull. Breakfast of champions. You’re about to pour the cereal into your mouth raw, no milk, no dignity, when suddenly—
SMACK.
The Red Bull flies out of your hand, clattering to the counter, and you’re left holding an empty cereal box like some kind of fool. You stare at it in shock, then turn to Vil, who’s looking at you like you just summoned Satan.
“Dude??” You blink, genuinely confused.
Vil crosses his arms, expression disgusted as he points at the stove, where there are some leftovers of whatever perfect meal he made earlier. “That,” he says, enunciating like he’s explaining basic math to a child, “is food. What you were about to ingest is poison.”
You look between him and your spilled Red Bull. “Uh, that was breakfast?”
“No,” Vil snaps, “that was a caffeine overdose waiting to happen. And dry cereal? Have you lost the will to live entirely?”
You’re still processing the fact that he just slapped your breakfast out of your hands when you glance at the stove again. Your stomach growls, and, well, you guess your organs could use something that won’t actively try to kill you.
“Fine,” you mutter, shuffling over to grab a plate. “But if I’m late to class, I’m blaming you.”
Vil barely glances at you as you load up your plate with whatever masterpiece he’s made. “You’re already late,” he says flatly.
“...Okay, fair.”
You sit down at the table, expecting the silence to be awkward, but it’s surprisingly chill. You eat, Vil eats, and for a brief, strange moment, it’s kind of peaceful. You didn’t think breakfast could be… normal. Not with someone like him.
Just as you finish, Vil stands up, wipes his mouth, and gives you a small nod. “You’re welcome,” he says, like he’s just saved your life—which, in his eyes, he probably has. Then he grabs his bag and leaves the kitchen without another word.
You sit there for a moment, fork still in your hand, feeling oddly touched. Then you glance at the clock.
You’re now 30 minutes late to class.
Totally worth it.
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You pass out at 4 a.m., your body finally giving in to the pure exhaustion that college life has inflicted on you. You're in that deep, blissful sleep when, at exactly 7 a.m., you're jolted awake by a scream so loud it feels like it rattled the entire room.
At first, you try to ignore it, desperately clinging to the last remnants of sleep. But after a moment, you groggily realize there’s no escaping it. You groan and roll out of bed, stumbling into the hallway with all the grace of a sleep-deprived zombie, not even bothering to change out of your mismatched pajamas.
Standing outside his room, on top of a chair(???), looking absolutely frazzled, is Vil Schoenheit. Hair still perfect, but his usual calm demeanor is gone, replaced by… well, panic?
“What the hell happened?” you mumble, rubbing your eyes.
Vil’s face is pale, and he gestures to the door of his room with a shaky hand. “There’s—there’s something in there.”
Your brain immediately jumps to the worst. An intruder? A stalker? A wild animal? Something actually dangerous? Vil shifts behind you, as you carefully open the door just enough for you to peer inside. You brace yourself, expecting to see something terrifying.
Instead, Vil points dramatically toward the floor. “There.”
You blink. And then you see it—a cockroach. A big one, sure, but still. A cockroach.
You turn to Vil slowly, your face a mask of pure judgment. “You woke me up… for this?”
Vil, now perched on a chair, crosses his arms indignantly. “It’s not about fear. It’s about disgust. I am not touching that.”
You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“...No. No, you don’t.”
Resigned, you grab a cup and a piece of paper from the kitchen. You approach the cockroach like some kind of extermination expert, scoop it up, and open the nearest window. With one swift motion, you throw the unfortunate bug into the outside world, praying it finds a better life somewhere far, far away.
“There,” you say, tossing the cup in the trash. “Crisis averted.”
Vil, still standing on his chair like the floor is lava, steps down carefully, brushing off his clothes with an air of dignity as if he hadn’t just been screaming at a cockroach. “I wasn’t scared,” he says, straightening his posture. “I was disgusted.”
You nod along, patting him on the shoulder with the patience of someone who knows it’s best not to argue. “Sure. No problem. Don’t worry about it.”
Vil purses his lips, his pride clearly a little bruised, but he still offers a tight smile. “Thank you.”
You wave him off as you shuffle back to your room, your bed calling you back like a siren. As you flop onto the mattress, you think to yourself, He might be a diva, but damn, he’s gorgeous.
With that, you pass out again, hoping to squeeze in a couple more hours of sleep before the universe inevitably conspires to ruin your day again.
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You and Vil have settled into an odd but functional arrangement. If not quite friends, you’re definitely acquaintances with benefits — and by benefits, you mean Vil keeps you from dying a slow death via your terrible diet, and in return, you serve as his on-call exterminator for the various bugs your old house seems determined to spawn. It’s a mutual understanding, and lately, he’s stopped questioning your life decisions. Well, not as much.
One afternoon, you’re sprawled on the couch, half-asleep and doomscrolling on some social media app, when Vil clears his throat. You jolt upright, momentarily thinking you’re about to get a lecture about posture, only to find him standing there, looking at you in a way that’s… almost awkward?
“What’s up?” you ask, genuinely curious because Vil being awkward is as rare as you cooking anything edible.
Without a word, he hands you an invitation, embossed with gold lettering and all. It's for a performance competition on campus. The kicker? Vil’s participating.
“You want me to come?” you ask, surprised.
He waves a hand, trying to look nonchalant. “Only if you’re available,” he says, but there’s a slight tremor in his voice. He’s trying to play it cool, but the slightest hint of tension betrays him.
You have no plans (unless eating ramen at 2 a.m. counts), so you agree. “Sure, I’ll come.”
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The day of the competition arrives, and you actually dress like a normal human being for once. Vil didn’t give you any kind of ultimatum about your outfit, but you figure you should at least try to look like you belong among the living.
You’re in the front row — of course, Vil had VIP tickets to a performance competition. The crowd is buzzing, but you’ve barely noticed because your attention is glued to the stage.
Vil appears, bathed in light, and you swear you’ve just glimpsed into heaven. His voice is smooth and captivating, his moves are graceful, and his gaze? One hundred percent lethal. It’s almost unfair. He’s the kind of performer that could turn someone to stone with a look.
You’re standing there, feeling the ridiculous urge to brag to the people around you that he’s your roommate. “Yeah, that’s right, I share a bathroom with that guy.”
Then, Neige LeBlanche takes the stage. Now, you’ve heard the hype. Neige is the campus sweetheart, the kind of guy who probably smiles at babies and rescues kittens from trees. If Vil is the untouchable beauty you admire from afar, Neige is the best friend you’d want by your side, also weirdly gorgeous.
You expect another powerhouse performance. You’re bracing yourself for it. And then… he starts singing.
Wait.
Is Neige… singing a nursery rhyme?
You blink. The crowd is eating it up, swaying along like they’ve been hypnotized. Meanwhile, you’re just standing there, dumbfounded, the only person in the front row not bopping along.
You glance around, jaw practically on the floor. Is everyone here insane? The man is singing something that you swear you heard at preschool.
And then it happens. Neige wins. The audience erupts into cheers, and you think the universe is playing a cosmic joke on you. What the actual—?
“What the fuck?” The words slip out before you can stop them, loud enough that the people around you turn to stare. Apparently, your disbelief is showing. You even catch Vil’s eye for a moment, and he smirks weakly at your outburst, but it’s clear the loss stung. A little part of you feels something unfamiliar—anger on someone else’s behalf.
You don’t even stay for the encore. It’s either leave or throw something at the stage, and you’d rather not get banned from campus events. You march out of the hall, still fuming.
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Later, when Vil returns, you can see it in the slight slump of his shoulders. The air of perfection is still there, but it’s a little cracked around the edges. That anger bubbles up again.
But you have a plan. A master plan.
Vil’s been telling you for weeks that you’d look decent if you just took care of yourself, and you’ve been brushing him off like the human disaster you are. But tonight, for him? You’re willing to make a sacrifice.
So, when he looks at you, barely meeting your eyes, you blurt out, “You can do whatever you want to me.”
His eyes widen slightly. “What?”
“Whatever creams, lotions, skincare products—you want to use on me. Go wild. I’ll be your project for the night.”
Vil’s expression lights up like a kid who just found out Christmas came early. You didn’t think it was possible for someone to get this excited about transforming you from a crusty goblin into a passable human, but here we are. And honestly? You kinda owe him at least this much, considering he makes sure you don’t die from malnutrition.
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The next hour is nothing short of war. Vil is aggressively applying products to your face like he’s trying to sandpaper your soul clean. His focus is deadly serious, his hands precise as he rubs some fancy serum onto your skin.
Between all the smearing of moisturizers and the occasional Ow!, the two of you start talking. Or rather, you start griping about Neige’s performance.
“I mean, seriously? A nursery rhyme?” you groan, rolling your eyes.
Vil huffs, his fingers moving swiftly over your cheeks. “Don’t remind me. The judges clearly have no taste. What kind of competition rewards… that?”
“Right? I was ready to riot. Your performance was like…” You search for the right words as he smears something cold on your forehead. “It was like watching art come to life, and then he goes and sings Twinkle Twinkle and everyone acts like he just reinvented music.”
Vil laughs—an actual laugh, something deep and genuine that makes the tension in his shoulders ease a little. “You sound like you wanted to run on stage and throw him off.”
“Maybe I did,” you mutter, wincing as he pats something into your skin a little too enthusiastically. “Honestly, the only reason I didn’t is because I didn’t want to get banned from campus events.”
By the time he’s finished, Vil steps back to admire his work like an artist assessing a freshly painted canvas. “There,” he says, his voice softer now. “You look… acceptable.”
“Wow, high praise,” you snort, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Vil.”
He smiles back, something quieter and more genuine. “Thank you.”
You wave him off, already heading to your phone. “So… delivery tonight? I’m thinking chicken?”
Vil wrinkles his nose. “Not fried. How about sushi?”
“Deal,” you grin.
As you place the order, you can’t help but think—yeah, maybe you and Vil are friends now. Weird, slightly dysfunctional friends. But friends, nonetheless.
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You’ve been working on this project for months. Countless sleepless nights, caffeine-fueled coding sessions, and a pile of stress larger than your student loan debt have led to this moment. It’s crunch time. You’re this close to submitting your final assignment. You think you deserve a break, so you go to order a coffee—just 10 minutes, tops.
But when you come back? Your laptop, your precious laptop, is gone.
You look around in disbelief. This can’t be happening. Someone stole it. The weeks of coding, months of planning, your entire project, everything. Gone.
You do the only thing you can think of when life throws you a sucker punch like this: you go drink.
You’re a few shots deep when your phone buzzes. It’s Vil. He’s asking, “Are you going to be home for dinner?” His voice is sharp, but you can’t even string together a coherent answer. You let out some garbled mess of a response that’s more slurred syllables than actual words.
There’s a pause, then a very clear “Send me your location. Now.”
Vil shows up at the bar like he’s stepped out of a luxury fashion magazine, a vision of elegance in this grimy little dive. You’re nursing what can only be described as a sad excuse for a cocktail, and he just gives you this look—disapproving, concerned, and about two seconds away from reading you the riot act.
He doesn’t say a word as he helps you out of the bar and drives you home. You can barely sit upright in the passenger seat, mumbling something about losing your laptop. You’re not even sure if he hears you.
Back at home, Vil sits you down on the couch and hands you a glass of water. “Drink,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.
You sip the water, slowly sobering up, though your mind is still a mess. Meanwhile, Vil is pacing back and forth like an actor in a drama, preparing for his monologue. And then it comes. He’s yelling at you, frustration and worry bubbling up to the surface.
“What are you doing to yourself? Why are you so determined to self-destruct?!” he demands. “You eat like garbage, you barely sleep, you pass out at random hours of the morning, and now you’re drinking like you’re on some kind of mission to obliterate your liver!”
You can’t take it anymore. His words break something inside you, and you just… fall apart. Tears stream down your face, and you sob, unable to hold it together any longer.
Vil immediately stops pacing, his expression softening in an instant. He crouches down in front of you, gently resting his hands on your shoulders. “Why are you crying?” he asks, his voice now quiet, almost tender.
You try to explain between hiccupping sobs. “My laptop—it’s gone. I… I worked so hard, and now it’s all gone. Someone stole it.”
Without hesitation, Vil pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice soothing. “We’ll figure it out.” He holds you like he can somehow undo the theft, like he can bring back what’s lost just by being there. And in that moment, you cling to him, sobbing into his shoulder as if the world could collapse around you and it wouldn’t matter because he’s holding you together.
You wake up hours later, still curled up on the couch, with a hangover so brutal it could bring empires to their knees. But something’s off. You realize you’re not just lying on the couch—no, you’re lying on someone’s lap.
You blink and look up. Vil’s sitting there, talking softly on the phone, one hand gently patting your head. You try to make sense of it, but the pounding in your skull makes that nearly impossible.
“No, Rook, I don’t care how you do it. Just find it.” Vil says into the phone, his hand still idly resting on your head. He doesn’t seem too concerned about you waking up—if anything, he seems almost like he’s daring you to go back to sleep.
And you do.
The next time you wake up, it’s to the world’s loudest human: Rook Hunt.
“Ah, mon ami, I come bearing treasures!” he announces as he swoops into the room, a grin plastered across his face. In his hands? Your laptop.
You sit up, blinking in disbelief. “What…? How did you get my laptop?”
Rook flashes you a sly smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ah, it was no small feat, but for Vil’s amour—”
“Rook!” Vil snaps, cutting him off with a glare that could freeze fire. “That’s enough.”
You look between them, still not fully understanding what just happened, but you’re too relieved to care. You practically leap off the couch and grab your laptop, hugging it to your chest like it’s your long-lost child.
Before you can stop yourself, you turn and hug Rook, then Vil, a huge grin spreading across your face. Then, in a moment of pure, unfiltered gratitude, you kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
Vil blinks, momentarily stunned by the gesture, but before he can say anything, you’re already dashing back to your room to finish your assignment.
As you shut the door, you can hear Rook’s laughter from the other side.
“You’re impossible,” he mutters to himself, but there’s a warmth in his eyes. Maybe you are a walking disaster, a self-destructive potato. But you’re his favorite potato.
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It’s finally the end of the semester, and a little notification pops up on your phone: Housing Applications Now Open.
If you apply now, you could get your old dorm back—no housemate, no interruptions, just you and your tragic life decisions. No one telling you to eat healthy or waking you up at ungodly hours over insect-related emergencies. Just you, alone, in your beautifully chaotic mess. And Vil? He’d probably go back to wherever he was before, maybe with someone like Rook who actually knows how to behave like a normal person.
You should be thrilled by this prospect. A whole apartment to yourself again. But instead, your stomach is doing weird somersaults, and not the normal “I forgot to eat breakfast” ones. This feels... different. Kind of like the time you ate that suspicious leftover curry, except this time it’s your heart that feels like it’s about to implode.
Oh. Oh no.
You sit there for a solid 10 minutes, staring at the housing application, feeling something suspiciously like heartbreak. And being the impulsive disaster that you are, you decide the best thing to do is to blurt out your feelings without any consideration for how unhinged it might sound.
So when Vil comes home, looking elegant and put-together as always, ready to greet you with his usual "Good evening..." you don’t even let him finish. You jump up, and before you can second-guess yourself, you blurt out, "I’m in love with you. Deeply. Hopelessly. In love."
Vil freezes mid-step, his eyebrows shooting up so fast they might actually fly off his face. There’s a solid beat of silence as he processes what you just said.
“…Excuse me?” He blinks, looking like you just told him you set the kitchen on fire again. “What did you just say?”
You gulp but there’s no backing out now. You’ve committed. “I said I’m in love with you. Like... seriously. I think you might’ve ruined me for life.”
Vil stares at you, and for a second, you’re terrified that you’ve broken him. But then—he laughs. He laughs so hard he doubles over, clutching his sides like you just told the world’s best joke.
You blink, baffled. “Uh... you good?”
Vil wipes at the corner of his eyes, still chuckling. “Oh, potato…” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head, amusement still dancing in his eyes. “I love you too, you ridiculous creature.”
“Wait, what?” Now it’s your turn to stare in shock.
Vil sighs, but there’s a fond smile on his lips. “I was going to ask if you wanted to room together again next semester. But, you know... in a better apartment. One without bugs or whatever demons this place keeps spawning.”
You blink once, twice, processing his words. He wanted to room with you again? In a better place? Your heart does a little flip in your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you’re grinning like an idiot. “Oh, hell yeah.”
Without thinking, you pull him close and kiss him. It’s quick and impulsive, but somehow it feels right. When you pull back, you find Vil smiling at you with something soft in his eyes, like he’s genuinely content.
“Maybe I don’t wanna die young after all,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.
Vil raises an eyebrow, his smile widening. “That’s a start. Now, go drink some water before you pass out from dehydration.”
You laugh, content for the first time in forever. Maybe this whole “life” thing wasn’t so bad after all. At least, not when you had Vil by your side.
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Masterlist
guys I promise I don't hate neige I just hated the VDC ending I wanted to off myself fr
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finelinefae · 11 months ago
Text
the aviator [pilot!harry x teacher!yn]
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synopsis: It’s the 1950s. Harry is the best pilot on the Air Force base and y/n is a teacher at a nursery.
word count: 8.5k
contains: fluff, flirting, opposites attract, bad boy/good girl dynamic, Harry has a southern accent, alcohol, smoking, allusions to childhood trauma
This is part 1 of a new series that will probably have 3-ish parts !!
. . .
Offutt Air Force Base, situated in Omaha, Nebraska, housed thousands of civilians working in or connected to the military.  People living in the nearby town would often hear the loud plane engines as they take off and land on the runway. They’d look out the windows of their home and see spitfires piloted by men undergoing training, executing missions, or just having a good time, even when they technically weren’t given permission. 
“Wah Hooo!” The spitfire trembled as it finally landed on solid ground. Harry braced himself for the landing, pushing himself back against his seat to stop himself from jolting around. He did his best to hide his smile and remain nonchalant as he heard the familiar voices yelp in excitement as he landed the aircraft. 
He removed his helmet and pushed the canopy of the cockpit open, leaping down and getting familiar with feeling the solid ground beneath his feet after being in the air. Two figures ran up to him, flailing their arms and screeching in excitement, “Tha’s what I’m talking about!” Harry opened his arms, unable to stop himself from laughing the two men almost knocked him over as they joined in a group hug. 
“You flew her like a champ, H. Never seen anything like that in my life.” Harry looked into two sets of eyes an identical colour to his own. 
Standing in front of him were his two brothers, Sonny and George. All three of them were pilots in the military and had been since they left school to sign up after the War. There wasn’t too much age difference between them which was probably one of the reasons the brothers were so close.  Harry was the oldest, just over a year senior to George, who happened to be taller despite being the middle child, and Sonny was the youngest.
“Yeah well, she still needs some work. One of her engine cylinders is faulty.” The three of them walked side by side towards the maintenance shed. Despite their differences in height, anyone would assume the three brothers were triplets from how similar they looked. Most people on base knew them for their signature sea-glass green eyes and their brown hair. 
“Oh I’ll go and tell Ruddy, he might still be here.” Sonny ran ahead 
“Oh and Sonny,” Harry called for his younger brother, “Good job.” Harry winked at his younger brother, referring to his work on the plane he had just flown. In response, Sonny straightened his shoulders and smiled feeling proud after receiving a compliment from his older brother. 
Harry and George both lit a cigarette each, pausing outside the door to the warehouse to smoke together. “I opened up a letter this morning from Ma.” George exhaled, smoke escaping past his lips. 
Harry tried not to show his annoyance, “Wha’d she say?” He grumbled.
“She misses us… All of us and she wants us to stop by, come visit for dinner one day maybe.” George explained.
“Is she still with that old bastard?” Harry looked up at his younger brother.
George nodded, “Last time I heard.”
“Then we’re not going, none of us are.” Harry thought back to the last time he had allowed himself and his siblings to visit his mother. It was going well in the beginning, she’d cooked them up a roast pork and engaged in conversation, until their Father came home. It wasn’t long into their visit before they left the house and Sonny had gone home with a black eye whilst Harry had to get his hand stitched up at a hospital on the journey back.
Harry had grown up in Dallas, Texas, in a tacky old house that barely stood upright just on the outside of town. Whilst his Father was out working on a ranch somewhere and getting pissed up every night, Harry would spend most of his days keeping the house together whilst tending to his younger siblings. His mother was often somewhere in the house - nobody knew exactly what she was doing, since she wasn’t exactly all there half the time - but she was there.
Every visit they made back home was a reminder as to why they had entered the military in the first place. Whenever their mother would send them a letter, it was either because she wanted something or wanted them to come home so she could ask for that same something in person. The last time Harry had bought his siblings home was the first time in years. He thought his mother would be different yet he had no idea why - she was still letting that old man walk around as if he was the one who kept the house from falling. 
“Sonny and I agreed you’re picking up Elise from nursery by the way,” George smirked, chucking his cigarette on the ground and putting it out with his foot. 
“You and Sonny agreed that?” Harry frowned, receiving a nod from his brother, “I’ve been flying all day and y’ still want me to go pick up the baby?”
George clapped his older brother on the shoulder, “We’ve both got to help out in the warehouse this evening and besides, you’re Offutt's best pilot, I think you can handle picking up a two-year-old on the way home.” 
Harry didn’t have time to argue with his brother as he stepped into the warehouse. He let out a deep sigh and took one puff of his cigarette before throwing it to the ground. He put his flight cap on his head to cover his messy hair and straightened his aviator jacket, walking towards the nursery. 
. . .
“How have you found your first day Y/N?” Midge, one of the other nursery workers asked as they stood at the sink together to wash up some of the paint pots a few of the kids had been playing with in the afternoon. 
“It’s been wonderful, Midge.” Y/N grinned. Although she was tired, she also felt ecstatic to finally be working again after months of searching for a new job.  She had always been good with children thanks to her older sister having a kid of her own for her to babysit now and then. So when the opportunity arose to work a well-paying job at a nursery on the military base, she couldn’t pass it up. They’d even offer her free accommodation and discounted food for groceries which was perfect considering she didn’t have much of any of those things when she was living alone.
“I expect most of the kids will be getting picked up soon,” Midge glanced at the clock, “Everyone will be returning from work.”
Y/N hadn’t expected pick up time at the nursery to be so busy but fathers and mothers bustled in to pick up their children to take them home all at once. Once the majority of the kids had been picked up, Y/N glanced around to see the mess that had been left from the day that she’d have to clean up by herself. Her shoulders dropped as she landed on a small figure, realising she wasn’t completely alone yet. 
“Elise, what are you doing?” Y/N smiled at the tiny girl playing in the corner, she was picking up picture books and flicking through them as if she were actually reading them. Y/N crouched down in front of the small toddler, “Are you enjoying those?” 
Elise just grinned, picking something up with her small fingers and trying to put it in her mouth. Her brown, curly ringlets were no longer in uneven bunches like they had been this morning and her overalls were covered in food and paint stains. Y/N picked up the two-year-old to place in her lap, “Shall we read something before your dad comes to get you?” Elise babbled a reply. 
Halfway through their fifth book, Elise was near enough asleep on Y/N’s lap. It had already been an hour since all of the other children went home and it wouldn’t be long before the sun would set. Y/N carefully picked Elise up so her head was on her shoulder and it was comfy enough to sleep as she stepped towards the telephone to see if Elise’s father was coming to pick her up. 
As her hand went to pick up the telephone, a voice stopped her, “Hello?” It was deep and southern and husky like he had just smoked a cigarette or two, “I’m here to pick up Elise.” 
Y/N turned around, and her breath caught in her throat as she spotted a tall figure leaning casually against the door frame. He wore a brown leather aviator jacket and grey trousers, with his flight cap tucked under his arm. His piercing green eyes, similar to Elise's, met hers, framed by brown curly hair. An unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. 
Y/N had never seen anyone like him in her entire life. 
“Y-yes,” She cleared her throat and forced her eyes to look away from his intense gaze. She stood and walked over to where he stood by the door with Elise in his arms, “You must be Elise’s father.” 
“M her brother,” He corrected. 
“Excuse me?” Y/N wasn’t sure if she heard him correctly, too busy gawking at him to actually pay attention. 
“M Elise’s brother, one out of three of her brothers to be exact.” He repeated, his eyes glancing at the sleeping girl Y/N was holding. 
“O-oh,” She blushed, “My bad, you look so similar I thought you were her father.”
“Easy mistake,” Harry smirked, “Would you like me to take her from you?” 
“Yes, of course,” Y/N gently removed Elise from her and passed her to Harry.
“There we go,” He cooed as Elise whimpered at the sudden movement, “There’s m’ little Elise.” 
Y/N thought her ovaries might explode as she watched the pilot interact with the small girl in his arms, making sure she was comfortable enough so she could remain asleep. “Are you new here ma’am?” Harry spoke his focus now back on Y/N.
“Yes actually, today’s my first day here,” She explained. 
“No wonder, I ain’t ever seen y’ around the place. How’re you liking it so far?” 
“I’ve only been here a couple of days but it’s been nice. Working here at the nursery has been lovely too,” 
“Yeah?” Harry’s lips curled, “I hope this one hasn’t been giving y’ much trouble. She can be a little devil with my younger brothers.” 
Y/N immediately shook her head, “No, she’s been lovely honestly. Think I spent most of the day with Elise out of all the other children.” 
Y/N noticed how Harry focused on her face as she spoke to him, every now and then his eyes would dart to her lips and then back up to meet her eyes, “Y got any friends here?” 
She paused, “Any friends?” 
“Yeah, you know,” He half smiled, it felt almost flirty but maybe Y/N was just imagining it, “People y’ like to hang out with.”
“Uh yeah, I share a house with a few of the girls who work in various places around the base. I get along with most of them and the ladies who work here at the nursery too.” Y/N explained, cringing at how awkward she was and how she’d probably be replaying this conversation back later only to die of embarrassment of all the things she said. 
“Y’ know there’s a dance down at the community centre this Friday, y’ should come, oh and invite some of those friends of yours too.” 
“Oh I don’t know, I think I’m working this Friday and-” 
“A lot of my buddies who I fly with go there sometimes - a good time they said. It might be a good chance to meet some of the people here,” He shrugged, “Could offer y’ a dance or two if you’d like.” 
Y/N wondered if all this was really happening right now or if she was just so tired that she was hallucinating, “O-okay,”
Harry grinned, a dimple carving into his cheek, “Well alright then,”
“Alright then,” Y/N tried to keep her smile at bay as she took it as his queue to leave. She kept the door open so he could easily step out as he walked backwards with Elise in his arms and his eyes still on Y/N even as he said nothing. 
“So I’ll see y’ at the dance?” 
“Maybe,” Y/N shrugged, even though she had already decided she was most definitely going to the dance. 
“Alright, maybe I’ll see y’ at the dance then,” Harry responded with a light, amused chuckle. 
Y/N watched as he turned his back and began to walk down the dirt road until he stopped briefly and spun around, “I didn’t catch y’name by the way,” He called out to her.
Y/N cupped her mouth, “It’s Y/N,”
“Y/N,” He said the name like he was testing how it sounded, “M Harry. Hey, I better see y’ at that dance Y/N, I don’t handle rejection all that well.” Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.
“I can believe that,” She yelled back.
“I’d say goodbye but I wanna see y’ at that dance so I’ll say goodnight instead.” Harry said with a casual salute before turning and continuing down the road.
Y/N shut the door and leaned against it, clutching her hands over her chest in complete disbelief. Her sister had warned her the pilots on the base would be young men near enough her own age and that she ought to be careful hanging around them. However, her sister hadn’t warned her that a man like Harry would stumble over to her workplace to pick up his sister and invite her to a dance on Friday night.
Y/N quickly cleaned up the nursery, shoving things into boxes and wiping down the tables, before grabbing her coat and running down the road to her house.
On every street on the housing estate, there was a row of houses that all looked the same but were owned by different types of people. Some had big families all living under one roof, others were men who lived alone. Y/N’s house was the first house on the street. It was a traditionally designed home with a pitched roof, a small front porch and symmetrical windows. She shared it with three other girls who all worked different jobs across the Air Force base. 
The sun had already set by the time she entered the house. All the lights were turned on and the gentle music of Buddy Holly sounded from the living room. Y/N kicked off her heels and hung up her coat, walking to the living room where Patsy and Molly were lounging on the couch. Molly had Patsy’s foot in her lap as she painted her toenails a wine red. 
Y/N collapsed on the couch next to Molly, “What’s wrong? Work not go so well?” Molly inquired.
“No,” Y/N huffed, resting her head on Molly’s shoulder, “It was wonderful.”
“Well, what’s got you so blue Peggy Sue,” Patsy questioned, her tone playful. She was reading a magazine and smoking a cigarette. 
“A man came into work after everybody left to pick up one of the girls, Elise.” Y/N clarified. 
“You mean Elise Styles?” Molly asked. 
Y/N sat up, “Yes, you know her?” 
“Just about every woman on this base knows her. She’s the Styles’ little sister.” Molly explained, “We’ve all had to babysit her at least once for those brothers.” 
“Yeah and neither of us will be doing it again,” Patsy piped up, as if reminding Molly. 
“Oh, you must know Harry then,” Molly paused, shoving Patsy’s foot off of her lap and turning to face Y/N.
“Is he the man you’re sighing over?” Patsy’s magazine fell to the floor as she too stopped to listen. 
Y/N furrowed her brows, confused by their reaction, “Y-yes, what about him?”
“What about him?” Molly stood, grabbing a cigarette from the packet on the coffee table and lighting it up, “Y/N you oughta be careful around all three of those brothers but especially Harry.”
“What do you mean?” Y/N glanced at Patsy who nodded in agreement with Molly. 
“That boy is not good news. He’s Offutt’s best pilot and he thinks that gives him the right to go around sniffing out every woman that steps foot onto this base.” Y/N frowns, watching as Molly begins to pace back and forth, “He didn’t ask you to go out with him did he?”
“Well he asked me to the dance on Friday. The one at the community centre.” 
“Oh, I bet he did!’ Molly exclaimed, “Listen Y/N, I’m telling you this because I don’t want any trouble for you. That boy is no good, he’s slept with half the ladies residing here and even the wives too I bet! He asked Patsy to go out to dinner with him one night and stood her up to go see another woman.”
Y/N glanced at Patsy, “He was flirting with two different women inbetween the moment he asked and our date a week later.” She added. 
“That’s right. Y/N darlin’, we shoulda warned y’ before y’ stepped foot out of this house this morning. Those Styles brothers will mess you around and leave y’ lonely for sport. You’re too nice to deserve all of that.” 
Y/N's shoulders slumped, “But he seemed so… nice.” Y/N pictured Harry with Elise and how gentle he was with her. 
“He’s not a bad person Y/N but when it comes to women, there’s no guessing what that man turns into.”
“Everyone’s heard plenty of things about why they came here too. If you ask me, his home wasn’t exactly a perfect example to him.” Patsy said.
“Well, whatever reason, best stay away from him.” Molly finished. 
Y/N heaved a sigh, “So I shouldn’t go to the dance on Friday?”
“Oh no, we’ll go to the dance. Harry’s not the only fine, young pilot on base I’ll tell you that.” Molly smirked and Patsy cheered with excitement at the thought of going out Friday night. 
Y/N attempted to smile, but she couldn't shake off the sadness upon realising that the man she had met earlier in the evening wasn't as kind as she had initially believed. Molly fell back onto the couch next to her and put an arm around her shoulders, “Cheer up sweet cheeks. I’m sure plenty of men will want to take you out after this dance.” 
Y/N managed a weak smile, grateful for Molly's comforting presence. "Thanks, Molly," she murmured, leaning into her friend's embrace.
"Yeah, plenty of fish in the sea, darlin'. You'll find one that's worth your time." Patsy chimed in.
Feeling a bit more reassured by her friends' words, Y/N nodded. "You're right. I can’t let one bad apple ruin my night."
Molly squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "That's the spirit! Now let's focus on having a great time at the dance. We can tell you about some of the other fellas who live here too."
With her friends' support, Y/N felt an inkling of hope return. She might have been disappointed by one man, but she wasn't about to let it dampen her spirits for the rest of the evening. She was glad she told her friends about her interaction with Harry and now she was left with one rule stitched into the back of her mind.
Keep away from Harry Styles. 
. . .
The night sky was clear enough to see the stars glittering against the pitch-black backdrop. A soft, gentle breeze flowed through the air as Harry lay back on the swinging chair on the front porch of the house he shared with his three brothers. 
This was his favourite time of day when it was completely silent and the air was cool and crisp. He didn’t like the nights so much when he was living with his parents. After midnight, or sometimes just before, his father would come in through the backdoor stinking the place up with alcohol and waking everyone up with his nightly rampages. 
Nowadays, the nighttime was the most relaxing part of the day and Harry savoured every second of it. He often finds himself sat out on the porch after putting Elise to bed. He’d smoke a cigarette or two, and maybe play his guitar a little bit. 
Tonight felt a little different though. Whilst his brothers were upstairs trying to put a fussy Elise to bed after she’d napped when he brought her home from nursery, he came outside and could think of nothing but the woman he found holding his little sister in her arms. 
Harry knew everyone on base the same way they knew him. He recognised faces easily and had at least one brief encounter with everyone he met in passing. However, the face he had met for the first time this evening was unfamiliar and new. 
Her features were delicate and angelic, with large doe eyes that held a hint of shyness to them. A soft, rosy blush adorned her cheeks and her lips were full and plush that he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of them. Her movements were gentle and her voice was airy and sweet, Harry thought of her stuttering and the way she’d blush whenever she spoke. He hadn’t seen anything like her in his life - he wasn’t a religious or spiritual person but, at that moment, he was pretty sure an angel had landed right in front of his very eyes. 
Even her name sounded as though it came from some kind of mythical text - one full of beauty and purity, love and light. 
Harry wasn’t the purist of men, far from it. He had slept in the beds of women he couldn’t remember the name of and indulged in his fair share of reckless behaviour. But in the presence of Y/N, he felt an unfamiliar stirring within him, a sense of longing tugging at his heartstrings. He didn’t know what it was and he wasn’t so sure he was ready to find out yet. 
He lit a cigarette with a matchstick and exhaled into the air, tendrils of smoke dancing above him. The sound of footsteps thudding inside of the house as someone walked downstairs, broke the silence he had been basking in. 
The door swung open and George stepped out, “Finally managed to get Elise to settle down though it took a whole round of nursery rhymes. Sonny’s still up there now, he’s afraid she’ll wake up again if he stops singing.” George took a cigarette from the pack Harry had in his pocket, “I thought you told those ladies at the nursery not to let her nap before she comes home.” 
“I did,” Harry spoke, his voice husky. 
“What? They didn’t listen to y’?” George chuckled. 
“There’s a new worker. I’ll let her know next time I see her.” Harry hadn’t wanted to tell Y/N that Elise wasn’t allowed to sleep so late in the afternoon because it was harder to get her to go to bed at night. He didn’t seem to have the heart to as he watched her hold the small girl in her arms. 
George scoffed, “A new worker? Is she a knockout at least?” 
Harry didn’t reply, instead asking,  “What do y’ think about the three of us going to the dance at the Community Centre on Friday?” 
George laughed until he realised his brother wasn’t laughing with him, “You’re serious?” 
The door swung open again and out stepped Sonny, “I swear if that baby wakes up, you two can sit in there and dance circles around her singing Miss Muffet for all I care. I ain’t doing that again.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, “Can y’ pass me a cigarette, George?” 
George handed the cigarette to Sonny, “Hey Sonny, Harry wants to know if we’ll go to the dance at the Community Centre this Friday.”
Sonny chuckled but that quickly went away, “Oh shit really?”
“Yeah tha’s what I thought,” George said.
“You got your eye on someone Harry?” Sonny spoke, “Is it that girl from the med centre? She sure is something.”
Harry sat up and turned to face his two brothers, “No, it’s not that,” He lied, “Jus’ thought we could go do something other than sit around and drink at the bar.” 
“But the dance?” Sonny quirked a brow, “You hate dances.”
“I never said that,” Harry said, even though he always made it known how much he hated the dances they held every Friday night. 
“No, I definitely think I remember y’ saying dances were for people who wanted to get laid but couldn’t,” George spoke, backing up his younger brother who nodded in agreement. 
“Alright,” Harry held his hands up, “Alright maybe I did say that. C’mon, what are you, Gunther and Francis? Sit down the pair of you.” They followed their older brother's orders, sitting on the seats opposite him. “Maybe there is a girl.” He sighed.
“Oh yeah?” Sonny smirked.
“Yeah, little shit,” Harry chuckled, “So if you could both do me a favour and get yourselves cleaned up Friday night because we’re going to a shitty dance and I won’t be having either of y’ covered in grease and soot.”
“Okay, alright, H.” George took a puff of his cigarette, “But you’re paying for drinks after.”  Harry shook his head, unable to suppress a chuckle.
. . .
Y/N stood in front of her bedroom mirror when Friday night rolled around. She had left the nursery in a hurry, needing as much time as possible to get ready for the dance at the Community Centre. She had been wracked with nerves all week, knowing there was a high chance she would see Harry there and she’d have to do her best to ignore him like Molly had told her to. 
She had picked out her outfit the night before. It was one of her best dresses- a lovely duck egg blue, satin fabric with a fitted bodice and a sweetheart neckline that showed off her decolletage. From the waist, the skirt flowed down in a full, flared A-line silhouette, gently swaying with every step. She wore white low heels on her feet and decided to carry a small purse with her too. 
Most of her time in the evening was spent on her hair and makeup. Y/N had almost used an entire can of hairspray to ensure her hair would stay intact the whole night. Molly had even given her a French manicure the night before and she spent the whole day at the nursery trying her best not to ruin her perfectly shaped nails. 
It had been a long time since she had put this much effort into going somewhere and it was all for a measly dance. There would be many other pretty girls who had spent more or less time on dressing up who probably had a better chance of catching the eye of a man than Y/N did. Yet she wasn’t hoping for the attention of just any man. 
Even though Molly and Patsy had warned her of Harry’s nature, she couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled and the sound of his voice as he spoke in that deep, southern drawl. Every time she thought of going to the dance, he would appear in her mind. Maybe she didn’t necessarily want anything from him but she wanted to at least catch his eye enough to make a lasting impression on him. 
Y/N applied a little more powder to her nose and did one final check in the mirror. She straightened her shoulders, “This will have to do,” She muttered, grabbing her purse. 
Patsy and Molly were already downstairs drinking margaritas and listening to Frank Sinatra on the record player. “Oh and another one comes to join us,” Molly grinned, wearing a navy, spotty dress with a red belt wrapped around her small waist. 
“What took you so long?” Patsy grinned, pouring a drink in a martini glass and handing it to Y/N.
“O-oh no thank you, I don’t drink.” Y/N shook her head and forced a smile out of politeness.
“What? You don’t?” Patsy replied like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. 
“Oh c’mon! Just one little sip - liquid courage and all that.” Molly took the glass from Patsy to give to Y/N who forced herself to take it from her. She held the glass to her lips, taking one small sip and feeling a tiny burn from the alcohol. 
“Good right?” Molly smirked, lighting a cigarette and holding the packet open to Y/N. 
“No thank you, I don’t smoke either.” Y/N laughs nervously. 
“Fair enough,” Molly shrugs, passing the pack over to Patsy who happily takes one for herself. 
Y/N places her drink on the table, knowing she won’t be touching it again. “We’ll be heading out in a moment, we’re just waiting on one more.” As if she could hear them talking about her, footsteps thumped down the stairs and into the living room.
Y/N’s eyes widened when her eyes landed on the tall, blonde standing in the doorway. She was wearing a black dress with a neckline that showed off her bust and a tight waistline that accentuated her curves. The strands of her golden, blonde hair were tied back into a high ponytail with her fringe perfectly curled. She wore red lipstick on her plump lips which made the blue in her eyes even brighter than they already were. 
“You’ve been in your room for hours, Nancy,” Patsy whined. 
“Yes well, I don’t just plan on getting wasted tonight Patsy.” Nancy retorted. 
Nancy was Y/N's other housemate, but Y/N didn't know her as well as she knew Patsy and Molly. Even though they lived together, Nancy seemed a bit distant compared to the latter two, who were friendly and nice. Nancy would smile politely, but she didn't say much else. Oftentimes, Y/N would get a strange feeling about Nancy like how she would make little comments that seemed to be jabs masked by forced politeness or how sometimes it felt like Nancy enjoyed pointing out Y/N's mistakes, like how she did her laundry or what groceries she bought. She wasn’t sure what she had done to upset Nancy but Y/N hoped it was just her over-thinking that made her believe she was this way and that tonight would allow them to get to know each other a little better. 
Nancy’s eyes fell on Y/N and looked her up and down, “Nice dress,” She said, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.
“Thank you,” Y/N offered her a smile but received nothing in return. 
“Alright ladies,” Molly stubbed her cigarette in the ashtray, “Let’s go catch us a few good men.”
“A few?” Patsy giggled.
“You’re right, I think a few is a little too much for this place.” Molly huffed and led the way out of the house and towards the community centre. 
Y/N could hear the live music coming from the centre as they walked down the street. Patsy and Molly were stumbling ahead, arms linked together as they laughed side by side. Y/N tried not to laugh at her friends as she walked alongside Nancy. 
“You planning on hooking up with anybody tonight?” Nancy’s voice broke the silence between them. 
“No I don’t think so,” Y/N replies. 
Nancy scoffs, “These dances are mostly for that you know, better prepare yourself when a fella tries to talk to you.”
“You think they’ll want to?” Y/N asked, hopeful.
Nancy glanced at her, “I’m sure they’ll snatch you right up those pilot boys.”
Y/N blushes, “Is there anyone you’ve got your eyes on tonight Nancy?” She liked this, conversing with Nancy. She hoped this would be the start of breaking the ice between them and maybe they could become friends eventually, or at least build acquaintances. 
Nancy smirks, “Only one.” She said nothing after that. 
The girls walked into the community centre which was already full of people from all over the airbase. A live band was playing Elvis Presley songs, the music blaring into Y/N’s ears once they stepped inside. “Any of you girls want a drink-”
“Molly is that Everett?” Patsy pointed to a man in the corner, talking to a woman. 
Molly’s face scrunched up, “I guess he’s back from Italy.”
Nancy interrupted the conversation, her eyes darting across the room like she was searching for somebody, “You girls grab something to drink, I’m just going to use the bathroom.”
“Who’s Everett?” Y/N asked Patsy as they walked towards the drinks table. 
“A guy Molly had a thing with last year,” Patsy explained.
“Yeah until he told me he was going to Italy for a year and wanted to break things off so he could get laid by an Italian woman.” Molly ranted, leading the girls to the drinks table. 
A bowl of punch resided in the centre of the table, Molly grabbed the ladle and poured them all a drink. Y/N took a sip and allowed her eyes to scan the room. Couples were dancing in the centre whilst others spoke in groups off to the side.  
Eventually, her eyes caught sight of a group of men walking through the door. Each one of them was dressed in a similar uniform, a navy blue tailored jacket and matching, fitted trousers. She watched as an entire group of them continued to flood in through the doors until the last man stepped through. 
He was wearing the same uniform as the others and his hair was gelled back with one curl falling in front of his forehead, unlike the messy curls she had seen when they first met. Y/N couldn’t help but stare as he weaved through the crowd and interacted with people as he walked past them. Everyone seemed to know him from the looks of it. He exuded confidence and bravado, people’s faces lighting up whenever he stopped to talk to them.
“Patsy?” One of the boys spoke. 
“Here we go,” Molly muttered, forcing a smile. 
A man with features that looked similar to the man Y/N had been eyeing, walked up to them with a taller man following him. “Hi Sonny,” Patsy greeted. 
“Y’ sure know how to make yourself look good when you want to,” He winked, eyeing her up and down.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Patsy put both her hands on her waist. 
“You know what I mean,” Sonny argued, realising he might have said something to offend her even though he had no idea what that might be. 
“Hi,” The taller man behind him spoke. Y/N looked up and was met with familiar green eyes except they were a little bit lighter than the ones she had seen. 
“Hi,” Y/N blushed.
“I’m George. Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around.” He wondered, pointing his thumb over his shoulder to the crowd as he spoke. 
“Y-Yes, I arrived recently actually. I just started working at the nursery.” She clarified. 
“Oh, the nursery! You must know my little sister Elise.”  Y/N’s lips turned upwards thinking of the little girl she had been spending so much time with over the last few days. Since her first day, Elise had constantly been wanting her attention whether it was to nap or play with things or read books. “You must have met my older brother then.”
“Older brother?” Y/N didn’t have enough time to register as George glanced around the room and called out his brother’s name. 
“Harry, c’mere!” He called. 
Harry’s head turned towards them in the middle of his conversation. His eyes landed on his brother until they found hers. He offered a small smile and began to walk towards them with a drink already in his hand, “This is one of the new workers at Elise’s nursery.” George introduced even though he didn’t really need to. 
“Yes, we’ve already met,” Harry said and Y/N thought she might melt into a puddle on the floor at the sound of his voice. “Hi there,”
“Hello,” Y/N smiled, shyly.
“So you came?” He teased. 
“I did.” She laughed, lightly. 
“And these are y’ friends?” He looked to Patsy and Molly who were bickering with Sonny who seemed to have said something else to offend them, George now joining in on the argument as he let Harry and Y/N talk. 
“Yeah, they’re my friends,” Y/N said, feeling nervous under his gaze. But despite her nerves, she couldn't deny the thrill of being the focus of his attention.
“Good to know,” He murmured, “Y come here with anyone else?” 
"Um, no, just the girls from my house," Y/N stuttered, feeling a rush of nerves as Harry's gaze lingered on her. "I don't know that many people. Other than the girls I live with and the ones from the nursery, who are all lovely, by the way," she added, her words tumbling out in a nervous ramble.
Harry grinned, his eyes twinkling with amusement at her flustered state. "You know me too," he stated, his tone playful as he leaned in closer. 
Y/N gulped the air she breathed just as the lights in the centre dimmed. The fast-paced music began to slow down and couples gathered to the dance floor to slow dance together. “Y wanna dance with me Y/N?” Harry asked. 
“I-I’m not very good at it,” Y/N smiled sheepishly, her cheeks tinged with a delicate blush. It was impossible to resist the charm that radiated from him.
He held out the palm of his hand and Y/N’s lips parted as she glanced down at it, “S just swaying tha’s all. Think y’ can do that?” 
Y/N hesitantly nodded, her pulse quickening as Harry's long fingers gently wrapped around her wrist. A tingling sensation danced across her skin, sending shivers down her spine and causing goosebumps to rise in response to his touch. He led her to the centre of the dancefloor and turned around so they were face to face. Harry took both of Y/N's hands in his own, his touch sending electric currents coursing through her veins. With a tender yet confident touch, he trailed his fingers down her arms, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. As his hands settled at her waist, Y/N's breath turned shallow, her heart racing as the music floated through the air. 
She was stiff at first, unable to relax until he leant forward and whispered, “Relax birdy,” She felt his breath against her neck as he spoke. He squeezed her waist a little and she dropped her shoulders, trying her best to loosen up under the circumstances. 
“Birdy?” Y/N spoke, questioning the new nickname.
“I spotted y’ as soon as I stepped through the door. Your dress is blue ‘n it reminded me of the bluebirds I used to see back home whenever I’d go up in the mountains with my grandpa.” He explained. 
“I didn’t know you’d seen me.”
“I searched for y’ as soon as I walked in. I only came because of you, if I couldn’t find y’ I’d probably just turn back and go to a bar or something.” He chuckled and Y/N laughed with him.
“No Elise?” She questioned, unable to stop herself from asking about the little girl she had become fond of. 
“Elise is staying with the family next door. Little rascal tried to get ketchup on my uniform,” He rolled his eyes, “I got a free house if that’s what you’re implying though.”
Y/N’s face turned beat red, “N-No that’s not what I’m implying at all.”
“M just messin’” Harry grinned, cheekily.
Y/N relaxed, composing herself and trying to pull herself together, “I’ve heard things about you, you know.”
“Oh yeah?” Harry smirked, “What things?”
“Just things.” Y/N felt his fingertips press her skin for a moment.
“And do you believe these things?” Harry murmured, leaning in a little closer.
Y/N looked him in the eye, trying to see if she could read him without having to ask him a thousand questions, “I don’t know yet.” 
Harry opened his mouth to reply but was stopped by the sudden change in music and the lights turning on above them. People cheered as they gathered back into big groups and began dancing again. Harry bit back a grin, shaking his head, “Y wanna come outside with me?” He asked, shouting over the loud music. Y/N bit her lip and nodded, taking his outstretched hand and allowing him to pull her through the crowd of people. 
The air was cold once they stepped outside. Harry led her over to a small bench nearby where fewer people were gathered. He pulled out a cigarette and offered her the pack, “Oh no thank you, I don’t smoke.” She declined, politely. 
Harry smiled around his cigarette, his gaze lingering on Y/N for a beat or two as he casually slipped the pack into the pocket of his trousers. The air between them was filled with a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sound of music drifting from inside the centre. Sensing Y/N's slight shiver, Harry swiftly removed his jacket and draped it over her shoulders without saying a word.
"But you'll get cold," Y/N protested, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Don't y’ worry about me. I don't get cold," Harry quipped, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he shrugged off her concern. His white t-shirt revealed toned arms adorned with a few tattoos littering his tanned skin. 
As Harry tilted his head back to blow smoke into the night air, Y/N couldn't help but admire the way he carried himself with effortless confidence. Gathering her courage, she decided to strike up a conversation.
"Were those your brothers back there?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Yeah, Sonny and George," Harry confirmed with a hint of pride in his voice.
"They look so much like you," Y/N remarked, her curiosity piqued.
"Strong genes, I suppose," Harry shrugged, his tone becoming more serious as he opened up about his family background. 
"What about you? Do you have any siblings?" He inquired.
"Just an older sister and my little niece, Rosie Jean," Y/N replied, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she thought of her family.
"And your parents?" Harry pressed, his gaze intense as he studied her reaction.
"My parents are doctors, they work at a surgery in town," Y/N explained, feeling a pang of homesickness as she reminisced about her upbringing.
"And yours?" She prompted, turning the conversation back to Harry.
"M parents are nobodies," Harry's voice took on a sombre tone, clearly his family life was a sensitive topic. Sensing his discomfort, Y/N chose her next words carefully.
"What about Elise?" she asked, hoping to lighten the mood with talk of his sister.
"Elise is better off being raised by us three than being left alone in a house with batshit crazy," Harry scoffed, his protective instincts kicking in.
Feeling the weight of their conversation, Y/N searched for a way to lift Harry's spirits. "What made you want to be a pilot?" she asked, genuinely interested.
“Sonny came home wanting to sign up for cadet training after they visited his school. He came home running through the doors with a flyer in his hand and told everybody he was going into the army. I told him ‘No brother of mine is going anywhere that requires trench foot and guns.’ He didn’t talk to me for a week after that. It wasn’t until I found an advertisement where y’ could train to fly planes when I decided I was gonna make a better life for myself and my siblings. It just so happened Sonny and George wouldn’t let me go at it alone.” He inhaled his cigarette before tossing it to the ground. 
As Harry shared the story of how he and his brothers found their way to Offutt, Y/N couldn't help but admire his determination. She found herself drawn to him even more, captivated by his strength and the way he always included his brother’s in everything he spoke about. 
A comfortable silence settled between them. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as Harry smoothly slid his hand next to hers, their fingers intertwining effortlessly. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her. 
"Have I told y’ how beautiful y’look tonight?" Harry's voice was soft, his gaze locking with hers in a way that made her heart race.
Y/N blushed at his compliment, unable to tear her eyes away from his. "You're lying," she protested, feeling a surge of warmth spread through her cheeks.
"I swear it," Harry insisted, his hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Swear on m’ life, birdy."
Y/N's heart fluttered at the nickname, a secret thrill running through her as she turned to face him. His eyes held a tenderness that melted her defences, and she found herself smiling back at him.
"Hi, birdy," Harry murmured, a dimple appearing on his cheek as he leaned in closer.
"Hi, Harry," Y/N whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she savoured the moment.
Harry's shoulders dropped and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though he seemed to be fighting to contain it. “I can’t lie to y’ birdy, I can’t stop thinking about kissing you,” Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart racing at his words. “I was gonna lie and tell y’ I’d been thinking about it since I saw you tonight but… quite honestly, I think I've been dreaming of y’ since I met y’ the other day.” 
Y/N didn’t know what to say, she felt as though someone had put a zipper straight across her mouth and she couldn’t get it to open. All she could feel was every muscle in her body beating against her skin as though they were trying to force her to surge forward and kiss him herself. “Y-You can if you want,” She stuttered, cheeks pink.
Harry laughed, “What about if you want? Can’t go kissin’ y’ if y’ don’t want it birdy.” 
“I do want it,” Y/N nodded. 
“Yeah?” He spoke but it came out more like a whisper. 
“Yeah.” Y/N gulped, feeling nervous. 
Harry didn’t hesitate once the word had left her mouth. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a gentle, tentative kiss, soft and exploratory. Y/N's heart fluttered as she melted into the warmth of Harry's embrace, her senses flooded with the taste of his lips and the scent of his cedarwood cologne.
Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the sweetness of the moment, their kisses deepening with each passing second. Harry's arms wrapped around Y/N, pulling her as close to him as possible. 
In that instant, everything else faded away—the noise of the party, the chill of the night air—leaving only the two of them, lost in the heat of their first kiss. 
They were both breathless as they pulled apart. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open to find Harry already looking at her, his eyes filled with emotion and intense desire. She noticed his tongue poke out to lick his bottom lip and she couldn’t help but giggle when she noticed the red lipstick stain she had left on his mouth from her kiss. 
“Where abouts do you live?” Harry murmured.
“Clemon Street,” Y/N spoke, her voice coming out a whisper. 
“Yeah? That’s on my way home,” He grinned. 
“Oh really?” Y/N bit back a laugh, “I thought y’ lived on Newark Street - it said so in Elise’s file.” 
Harry shrugged, “I like to go the long way round.” Y/N didn’t bother pulling him up on the fact that the two streets were on opposite ends of the housing estate. 
“Can I walk y’ home?” He asked, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of her dress. 
Y/N nodded, biting her bottom lip, “Yeah I’d like that.” 
Harry grinned, “Well alright then.”
They stood up, Y/N keeping his jacket around her shoulders since it was still cold out, “I’ve just got to go to the bathroom,” She motioned towards the community centre. 
“I’ll wait for y’ at the door,” He said, following her as they walked to the community centre side by side. Y/N walked up to the steps and opened the door, she looked over her shoulder to make sure Harry was still there- that he was real and not just someone she dreamt up.
Harry caught her eye, “M not going anywhere birdy,” he winked, “hurry up so I can walk y’ home and kiss y’ again.” 
Y/N laughed and hurried straight to the bathroom. Once inside, she closed the cubicle door behind her and sank down onto the lid of the toilet seat, a wide grin spreading across her face. Unable to contain her excitement, she let out a delighted squeal, her mind buzzing with thoughts of the moment she had just shared. 
She pulled out the pocket mirror from her bag and quickly reapplied the lipstick that had been smeared off. She fluffed up her hair with her hands and rubbed her aching cheeks from where had been smiling so much. She stood up and held Harry’s coat in her arms.  As Y/N stepped outside the community centre, she scanned the area in search of Harry, hoping to catch a glimpse of him waiting for her. Her anticipation turned to disappointment when she couldn't spot him anywhere, and her shoulders slumped slightly in resignation. Just as she was about to turn away, a figure caught her eye—a silhouette that had a striking resemblance to Harry—standing in a shadowy corner illuminated by the lights from the community centre.
Heart fluttering with excitement, Y/N smiled and took a step forward, eager to walk home with him. However, her joy quickly turned to dismay when she realised he wasn't alone.
A sudden giggle pierced the air, causing Y/N's heart to sink. Molly's warning appeared typed out in big letters at the forefront of her mind, filling her with regret and dread as she hesitated, frozen in place. With each step she took closer, the scene before her unfolded—it was Nancy, her housemate, clinging to the man she had just kissed.
I imagine George to be Callum Turner and Sonny to be Timothee Chalamet specifically from ms stevens but you can imagine whoever you’d like ! &lt;;33
2K notes · View notes
misotsukiiyeooo · 27 days ago
Text
Pretty Princess
Pairing: Dad! Kim Mingyu x Mom!F! reader
A/N: Guys idk what was going through my head when I made this. (Not proofread sorryyyy)
Genre: Fluff + Crack
Word count: 16.1k
Synopsis: Mingyu's dressed as a pretty princess? who knew you teasing him would lead to the tables turning later?
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It was a Saturday afternoon, and you were in the kitchen making dinner while Mingyu played with your daughter, Eunseo, in her room.
Their giggles and laughter echoed throughout the house, piquing your curiosity about what was happening. As their laughter grew louder, a smile crept onto your face; it was one of your favorite sounds.
While you continued cooking, you could hear their feet tapping on the floor, the sound increasing in volume until they both appeared in the kitchen.
“Mommy, Mommy! Look, Daddy's a princess!” Eunseo giggled as she pointed at Mingyu.
He wore several pink hair clips and bows, complemented by glittery eye makeup. He looked adorable, even in the tight princess dress that he had somehow managed to pull just above his forearms.
You laughed along with Eunseo. “He does look like a princess! Wait, let me take a picture!” You took out your phone and focused on Mingyu, whose cheeks were tinted pink.
He rolled his eyes, crossed his muscular arms, and unintentionally tore the dress. Seeing Eunseo's expression, you quickly stifled your grin.
“Daddy…you’re too strong for my dress,” she sighed, causing you to chuckle.
“I’m sorry, Princess. I’ll buy you ten more tomorrow, okay?” Mingyu held up ten fingers, causing Eunseo to smile happily and nod her head.
“Deal! Now Mommy, take a picture!” Eunseo jumped around excitedly.
You pointed your camera at Mingyu. “Gyu, strike a pose!” you smiled.
Mingyu obliged and struck a dramatic pose, putting one hand on his hip while blowing a kiss to the camera as if he were on a runway.
The kitchen lights made his glittery eyes shimmer. “You’re a natural!” you laughed hysterically, and Eunseo agreed.
Mingyu’s smirk grew into a smile as he heard you both laughing. He loved making both you and Eunseo laugh, especially at the same time. He knew he looked ridiculous, but he didn’t care if it meant bringing joy to his two girls.
Eunseo continued to bounce around him, giggling loudly as she watched her dad make silly faces. She was having the time of her life.
You put your phone down and walked closer to him to admire the makeup. “This makeup is so pretty, Eunseo! You did an amazing job!” you praised, giggling as you wiped a bit of smeared lipstick from his face.
Eunseo puffed out her chest with pride, clearly happy with your compliments about her makeup skills. “I know! I used my favorite colors for Daddy!”
Mingyu sighed, feeling a bit embarrassed.
“Oh, I see! But can you both make sure you’re cleaned up before dinner is finished?” you asked Eunseo.
Eunseo pouted a little, not wanting the fun to end just yet, but she nodded and grabbed Mingyu's hand, tugging him toward the bathroom.
“Okay, Mommy! Come on, Daddy, let’s go clean up!” Mingyu chuckled and followed her into the bathroom.
You smiled softly at the sight of your little daughter bossing around your tall husband. You took one last photo of him, wanting to capture the back of the dress that was torn, before returning to your cooking.
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A few minutes later, they emerged with Mingyu's hair all messy from taking out the hair clips and most of his makeup gone. His face was still very glittery, though.
You walked up to him with a smile, standing on your tiptoes to reach his hair and try to fix it. "Aww, Gyu. Your hair's all messy and cute."
Mingyu chuckled softly as you attempted to tame his wild hair. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him and helping you maintain your balance.
"Well, Eunseo is a mini you, so I'm not surprised," he teased. He then leaned down to give you a quick kiss on the cheek, still grinning at you.
"I guess you're right," you replied with a grin, caressing his cheek with your thumb in an attempt to rub off the glitter. "I see that not everything came off…"
Mingyu closed his eyes for a moment as he hummed softly. "You know how stubborn glitter is. It’s going to take more than just a bit of rubbing to get it off," he teased again.
Eunseo had been watching the two of you, giggling to herself as she observed the playful banter. Suddenly, she tapped your leg.
"Hmm? Yes, Eunseo?" you turned to face her adorable little self.
She looked up at you with her big, innocent eyes, a mischievous glint sparking in her gaze.
"Can I do your hair next, Mommy?" Eunseo asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes at you.
"Oh, um…" You glanced at Mingyu, nervously seeking his support, before turning back to Eunseo. "Sure… of course you can do my hair, baby."
Mingyu chuckled at your reaction, clearly amused by how the tables had turned. He was eager to see what hairstyle she would choose for you.
"This should be interesting," he whispered so only you could hear.
"Don't remind me," you replied, just as Eunseo happily tugged you away.
Mingyu laughed again, as he could already imagine what Eunseo would do to you. He couldn't wait to finally have something to tease you about.
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Mingyu's jaw dropped as he saw you, completely taken aback by your new appearance.
You looked adorable with your messy hair adorned with a princess tiara and glittery makeup.
He had to bite his lip to hold back his laughter, his eyes widening as he looked you up and down. You were now wearing a purple dress that matched the tiara.
“Oh my God…” Mingyu muttered, a smirk returning to his face as he tried to suppress his chuckle.
“She looks so pretty! Right, Daddy?” Eunseo asked excitedly.
Mingyu nodded quickly, unable to deny that you indeed looked pretty. He was just struggling to keep a straight face, his lips twitching.
“Y-yeah…” he managed to say, his voice slightly shaky as he tried to maintain his composure.
“Laugh all you want now… I still have the photo of you,” you mouthed to him with a glare.
Mingyu’s eyes widened slightly as he read your lips, and he stood there in silence.
“Daddy, take a picture of Mommy now! Mommy looks more like a pretty princess than you did.” Eunseo smiled as your eyes widened in surprise.
Mingyu grinned, slightly taken aback by Eunseo’s comment, but taking a photo of you, knowing you wouldn’t appreciate it—he could never pass up an opportunity like this.
“That’s a great idea, sweetheart!” he said mischievously as he reached for his phone.
"Maybe Daddy can take the photos later, Eunseo?" You try your best to avoid having Mingyu take a picture of you.
Eunseo looked up at you with a pout. "But Mommy…" she whined.
You sighed in defeat, giving in once again. "Fine, just one photo…"
Eunseo's face lit up with excitement as she jumped up and down. "Yay! One photo, Mommy!"
Mingyu laughed, watching the two of you with a smug smile on his face. He knew he had won this round.
Mingyu met your glare with an innocent smile, pretending to be oblivious to your annoyance. He was enjoying this way too much.
"What? You agreed to it, love," he teased, holding out his phone and preparing to take the picture.
"Smile, Mommy!" Eunseo requests. Mingyu loved how excited Eunseo was to have this photo taken, he was looking forward to seeing your forced smile.
"Yeah, smile for the camera, Princess." He playfully used your new nickname against you.
You sighed once more, giving a strained smile.
Mingyu snapped the picture, clearly pleased with the expression on your face. He looked down at the photo on his phone, admiring your strained smile and messy hair.
"Oh, that's perfect," he said with a smirk, showing the photo to Eunseo.
"I'm going to check on dinner," you said, walking away toward the kitchen.
Mingyu watched as you walked away, then put his phone away and followed you into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind as you began to check on the food.
"You look adorable when you're mad, Princess," he teased, resting his chin on your shoulder while holding you close.
Mingyu knew you weren't in the mood to respond to his teasing, but he didn't mind. He thought it was cute when you pouted and didn’t talk to him.
He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, planting soft kisses against your skin.
"This cute act you're putting on isn’t going to work," you finally replied.
He pulled away from your neck and rested his chin on your shoulder again. "Who said I was trying to work anything? I'm just giving my lovely wife some affection."
“Mhm.” You scoffed before turning to face him. “Could you watch the food while I take this off?”
Mingyu pouted playfully as you turned to him, reluctantly releasing his hold on your waist. He wanted to keep holding you, but he knew he had to follow your request.
“Fine, fine. I’ll watch the food,” he said with a sigh.
“Thank you~,” you replied sweetly, hugging him as you discreetly pulled his phone out of his pocket.
Mingyu was caught off guard as you suddenly hugged him. he wasn’t expecting you to be so affectionate after your previous annoyance.
He wrapped his arms around you returning a hug and pulling you closer to him. He didn’t notice as you slipped his phone out of his pocket, too distracted by the feeling of having you in his arms.
You take the phone and walk away to the room to "change," leaving him oblivious.
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Eunseo walks into the kitchen and tugs on Mingyu's pants. "Daddy, can I play a game on your phone?"
Mingyu looks down at Eunseo, a smile forming on his face at her request. "Sure, sweetheart, but let me unlock it first," he replies, reaching into his pocket to grab his phone.
He frowns when he realizes it isn't there, patting his pockets in confusion.
You quickly walk away into the bedroom, giggling.
Mingyu looks up as he hears you giggle, a puzzled expression crossing his face. He looks down at Eunseo again, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Where is Mommy, sweetheart?" he asks.
"Mommy is in the room," she replies, pointing toward the bedroom door.
Mingyu follows Eunseo's gaze toward the bedroom. "I see…" he mutters, gently ruffling Eunseo's hair before making his way toward the bedroom.
You quickly put his phone under your lap as you hear him open the door.
Mingyu enters the bedroom and his eyes immediately fall on you. He notices how you quickly put something down under your lap, and his suspicions grow.
"What are you hiding, love?" he asks.
"Nothing! I was just taking these clips and my tiara out of my hair," you say, feigning innocence.
Mingyu looks at you skeptically, clearly not buying your excuse. He sits down on the bed next to you, his eyes fixed on the lump under your thigh.
“Oh really? Then why are you so defensive?” he asks, leaning closer and placing a hand on your thigh.
“Me? Defensive? Never,” you reply, crossing your arms.
He smiles, amused by your stubbornness. He knew you were trying to hide something, and he found it endearing how hard you were working to deny it.
He reaches over, grabbing your hips and pulling you onto his lap, so you are straddling him. He wraps his arms around your waist, trapping you against him and preventing you from getting away.
“Hey!” you yelp, giggling as you stretch your arms out, holding the unlocked phone above your head.
Mingyu looks at you in disbelief as he notices the photo he took of you earlier displayed on the screen.
“Give it back,” he pleads.
“Not until I delete this photo!” you laugh, stretching your arm out as far as possible, just out of his reach.
“And why do you want to delete it so badly, hm? I thought you looked cute in it,” he teased, his hands slowly moving up your body in an attempt to distract you.
“Cute? Don’t lie to me,” you retorted, unaware of his true intentions.
Mingyu laughed, clearly amused by your sassy response. He knew you were getting defensive, and he was enjoying it.
“I’m not lying, love. I genuinely think you look cute in that photo, even with that strained smile on your face.”
“Nope! I need to delete it!” You held the phone above your head, fully aware that one wrong move would allow him to take it from you.
He knew that you were serious about deleting the photo, but he wasn’t going to give up that easily. He suddenly shifted his grip on your hips, flipping you over so that you were underneath him on the bed.
"You think you can hide it from me? We both know I'm stronger than you."
Your eyes widen in shock as everything happens so fast. You quickly squirm, trying to grab the phone before it falls onto the bed. You do your best to reach it before he does.
Mingyu holds both of your wrists with one hand as his free one gets ahold of the phone.
"Hey! That's not fair! Give me that!" You reach for his phone.
"No can do, love. You had your chance but you failed." He grins cheekily.
"But the photo…" You sigh, giving up hope that he will let his guard down. "Fine…"
Mingyu raises an eyebrow, surprised by your change in attitude. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
He loosens his grip on your wrist but keeps hold of his phone to ensure you don't delete the photo.
You sit up on the bed quietly, and he watches you, his gaze locked on your face as he tries to figure out what you're planning.
"What are you doing?" he asks, his voice low and curious.
"Nothing…" you respond dismissively.
Mingyu tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "I know you're up to something…" He squints at you, skeptical.
"Nope, not at all…" You glance at his phone.
Noticing the direction of your gaze, he smiles and waves the phone in front of you. "Ah, so you're still thinking about the photo. I thought you said you were done trying to get it back?"
"Did I say that?" you ask, tapping your chin as if contemplating.
He looks at you, confused. "Yes, you just did—"
Without warning, you quickly tackle him to the floor.
Mingyu lets out a surprised grunt as his back hits the ground with a thud. He hadn't expected you to be so quick.
"How did you—" He looks at you with pure confusion.
"Let me get that phone!" You finally manage to grab it.
Mingyu laughs as you take hold of the phone, his grip slipping. A playful glint shines in his eyes as he looks up at you from his position on the floor.
"I can't believe you tackled me for a phone…" he pouts.
"I had to! I can't let you keep this horrible photo," you reply.
He tries to grab the phone back, so you react quickly by tossing it toward the front door.
"Now that was dirty," he shakes his head at your tactics.
You quickly jump off Mingyu to retrieve the phone, but he grabs your legs, making you fall to the floor. "Hey!" you whine.
As you’re inches away from the phone, you hear the door unlock. Both of you look up to see Eunseo standing there.
She tilts her head at the sight of you two on the floor, with Mingyu holding onto your ankles.
"Daddy? Mommy? What are you doing?" she asks, obviously confused.
"Eunseo! Give Mommy the phone, okay?" you plead, stretching your hand to grab it.
Mingyu quickly responds, "No, Eunseo, pass it to me, please?"
Eunseo looks between you and Mingyu, her eyes darting from the phone to your face. She looks unsure, not wanting to get involved in whatever was happening between you two.
She thinks for a moment, then says, "But Mommy, I asked Daddy to play on his phone first. You can get it after, okay? I promise." She grabs the phone, walks out of the room, and leaves you both in disbelief.
Mingyu is completely stunned by Eunseo's betrayal. "She's supposed to be on my side…"
You let out a tired laugh, realizing how childish this all was. "I can't believe we did all that just for her to end up with the phone…"
Mingyu also chuckles wearily, letting go of your ankles. "I know… she won the fight without even trying, huh?" He catches his breath.
You nod, "She didn't even have to do anything. She just stood there and looked cute." You shake your head.
He looks back at you, grinning, "Well, on the bright side, at least I still have that photo of you."
"Don't forget, I also have the photo of you, pretty princess," you laugh.
"Damn it, I can't believe I let you take a picture of me like that," he mutters.
You get closer to him, crawling onto his lap. "You did it because you love me too much."
"Yeah, yeah. I'm not so sure now after that tackle stunt you pulled," he says playfully.
"Hey!" You hit his chest playfully, laughing along with him.
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Reqs are open!!
Taglist!!
@wonunonu @hanniehae-yoon @jjunie-0 @minminghao @honglynights @bath1lda @allieyaaa
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wh1msic4lwasab1 · 4 months ago
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⋆⁺₊❅. “Give you...whatever you need!"⋆⁺₊❅.
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synopsis: being the captains assistant ;)
tags: lots of possessiveness, manipulation (?), power dynamics, dom capitano, vulgar, explicit, fingering, facefucking, begging, degradation, penetration, creampie, you get the gist
wrd cnt: 2.5k
a/n: doja cat pls release generous ( lyrics from the song as title) and my life is YOURS… also partly inspired by the azeru audio….
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Drip. Drip. Drip.
Droplets of a custom blend of his favorite drink, warm and slightly sweet hit the bottom of a porcelain cup.
It was just something you did, something you knew The Captain liked and as his assistant, routinely did.
This particular evening it was as if everyone in the nation needed you. A task, an errand, or just had to stop you in your tracks to his quarters for some idle chat.
It must have been several minutes longer than when he was expecting you, which was far too long to keep the Captain waiting; occupied against your will.
His tea was cold by now.
Finally, you ran over to his door. The runway-like carpet ending and small tiles lining the entryway to his office, guarded and sealed.
But you were a regular.
The guard knocked on the door, “Sir, your assistant has returned” he announced, waiting for an answer.
It took a few seconds, but you could hear a faint “Let her in”.
You sigh deeply and watch the giant doors open and shut behind you as you walk into the dimly lit room, only candles and small lamps lit across the table and crackling fireplace that remained behind The Captain’s seated body.
“Over and Over. I must have called you a thousand times? More or less.” He spoke, his voice clear even through the steel mask that adorned his face.
“I’m so sorry-“ You quickly respond, placing the cup on the edge of his desk and folding your hands together. “I got caught up with some others- a few harbingers as well needed my assistance.”
He straightened his legs, now standing in front of you, making you back up just slightly due to his large frame.
“It’s as if you’ve forgotten who you serve.” He said, the point of his gauntlet nail scratching the edge of your jaw and trailing down to your chin.
“Who kept you so long?” He asked, quickly adding “Never mind. Don’t tell me, I’d rather not know.”
You have trouble knowing where to look. Not wanting to cause any more trouble for yourself.
“Now that you’re here…maybe we should get started. You’ll probably need to stay overnight.” He mentioned.
You nod, agreeably to not seem like you’re eager to leave.
You sorted out all the intel Capitano had been collecting. There were piles of data, equipment, maps, and so much more. You were the only person he’d let touch them. It was common for you to stay late, as work never seems to dry out. It was also common for you to be whatever he wanted you to be. Errand runner, liaison…or his toy to let out his frustrations.
Everyone sees The Captain for what he puts on. Respectable and professional.
Most of the fatui honestly confess to enjoying working for him, as he has been much kinder than the others.
He can be, but he has his limits.
How can he be so kind to you when you’re late? You dared to keep him waiting.
“This is unlike you.” He says, noticing you yawn as you flip through the pages.
You blink your eyes a second too long, “Oh- I’m sorry I haven’t gotten much sleep, but I can keep working! Please don’t worry”. You assure.
“ I’m not worried, not for myself anyway.” He adds, kicking his feet up on the edge of the desk.
“Come here.” He urges you, forcing you to get off your small little table in the corner to his desk.
He flicks just one finger and you follow, taunting you to his lap.
“Yes- Captain?” You feel your throat get dry as you sit on his thigh, big enough to count as a seat.
“Is there anything…you need from me?” You ask, insinuating a more personal form of assistance.
He hikes his foot up higher on the table, creating a steep slope of his legs that drags you down and forces you into the crook of your lap, hands instinctively hitting his chest for balance.
“This isn’t for me. I think we need to wake you up.”
You felt a small shiver run up your spine when his hands landed on your hips, “How else will you finish all your work?” He adds.
You let out a small sigh as you felt his steel-clad fingers wrapping around your sides as if your ribs were now armored.
He slowly dragged them down your stomach, small points sliding down the sides of your thighs making you arch your back and grind onto his lap, earning a chuckle from him.
With swift motion, he grabs your throat; dropping his mask on the floor and letting it roll off somewhere.
Your body tenses, and you can see the most faint glimpses of his face; still hidden under the darkness of the room.
Deep and rich, he speaks to you, “Take off your clothes.”
Almost as if he’d conditioned your mind, you do so with no complaints.
He even helps, tugging up your shirt with the finger tip of his gauntlets as you pull it off. As your shirt falls to the floor, you stand before him in just your bra and skirt, your heart pounding in your chest. He doesn't waste any time, his hands moving to your back, deftly unhooking your bra with practiced ease. The straps slide down your arms, and your breasts spill free, bouncing lightly as they are finally released. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, exposed and vulnerable.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice dripping with approval. "Now the rest."
You slip your skirt down, letting it pool at your feet, and step out of it.
You stand there, naked and vulnerable, your breath hitching as Capitano's fingers trace the curve of your hips. His touch is firm yet deliberate, each movement sending shivers down your spine. Shadows play across his muscular frame, making him appear even more imposing as he pulls you back onto his lap, each leg now dangling off his sides.
"Spread your legs," he commands, his voice low and gravelly. The steel in his tone leaves no room for disobedience.
You hesitate for a brief moment, but the intensity in his dark blue eyes compels you to comply. You part your thighs, positioning yourself in his lap. The heat between your legs is almost unbearable, a stark contrast to the cool air brushing against your exposed skin. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against your folds, another hand squeezing your breasts between his thumb and forefinger. You gasp, arching into his touch, your body betraying how much you crave his attention.
"Please..." you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he hears you.
He leans forward, his mouth closing around your nipple, suckling hard enough to make you cry out.
His teeth graze the tender flesh, sending waves of pleasure and pain coursing through you.
You grip his shoulders, your nails digging into the tough material of his armor, as he moves to your other breast, repeating the process. Each pull of his lips, each scrape of his teeth, makes you shudder, your body responding eagerly to his rough ministrations.
"Captain..." you moan, your voice breaking as he continues his assault on your senses and his gentle strokes around your inner thigh, purposefully ignoring your sensitive pearl.
He pulls back, leaving you panting and desperate for more. His eyes glint with satisfaction as he watches you struggle to catch your breath. "Turn around," he orders, his voice firm and commanding.
You obey, swinging your leg over and turning your back to him…well, it’s more of him picking up your entire weight and shifting you into position.
As you automatically reach for the edge of the desk to steady yourself, he lifts himself off his seat, stepping close to your body, his presence looming behind you, his heat radiating against your bare skin. You feel his hands on your ass, squeezing the globes roughly, spreading them apart to expose your most intimate parts. Your breath hitches as you anticipate what's coming next.
"Look at you," he growls, his voice thick with desire. "So ready for me." He adds, flicking his arm down to release his hand from the gauntlet, thudding on the floor just as his last piece of equipment.
“Is this what you were thinking about in that little corner of yours?” He teases.
His fingers trail down, skin grazing the crease where your thighs meet your ass, dipping lower until they brush against your wet folds. You gasp, your knees buckling slightly as he slips one finger inside you, probing deeply. You clench around him, your muscles instinctively tightening, drawing him deeper.
"You're so, so wet," he murmurs, his finger sliding in and out of you, slowly building up speed. "Such a good girl."
Your head falls forward, your forehead resting on the cool surface of the desk as you ride out the sensations he's unleashing on your body. His cold finger flicks against your clit, making you jerk and whimper, your hips swaying involuntarily as you try to get more friction. "Beg for it," he demands, removing his finger and resting it on your hips.
"Please... Captain, please," you beg, your voice shaking with need. "I want more... I need you..."
He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "Not yet," he says, "But soon."
You whine in protest, your body aching for release, but he grabs your hips.
"On your knees," he commands, his voice leaving no room for argument.
You drop to your knees, your hands trembling as you reach for his belt, unbuckling it quickly. You undo his pants, pushing them down to reveal his hardened length, already glistening with pre-cum.
You lick your lips, your mouth watering at the sight of him.
"Take me in your mouth," he orders, his hands gripping your hair tightly. "Show me how much you want it."
You obey, wrapping your lips around his throbbing cock, sucking gently as you take him deep into your throat. He groans, his hands tightening in your hair as you bob your head up and down, your tongue swirling around him with each pass. You can feel him twitching in your mouth, his hips thrusting gently to meet your movements.
"Fuck... yes," he mutters, his voice strained with effort. "Suck it like you mean it."
You redouble your efforts, taking him deeper, your throat convulsing around him as you gag slightly.
He tastes amazing, salt and iron, the essence of his power and dominance filling your senses. You hollow your cheeks, sucking hard as you stroke the base of his shaft with your hand, listening to the sounds of his grunts and moans above you.
"That's it," he praises, his fingers digging into your scalp. "Just like that... almost there...you’re working so hard"
His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his breathing heavy and labored. You know he's close, can feel the tension building in him, and you work harder, your jaw aching from the effort.
Suddenly, he lets out a low growl, his fingers yanking your head back as he comes, his hot seed flooding your mouth.
You swallow dutifully, licking him clean as he pulls out of your mouth, his chest heaving with exertion.
He looks down at you, his eyes dark with lust, and smirks. "Up," he commands, his voice still hoarse from his orgasm.
You do as told, standing up and facing him, your legs shaky from being on your knees for so long. He grabs your wrist, yanking you towards the desk, and pushes you onto it, your chest pressing against the cool wood. You gasp, your nipples rubbing against the rough surface, sending jolts of sensation through your body.
He kneels behind you, his hands roaming over your ass, squeezing and caressing the flesh before diving between your legs once more. His fingers find your drenched entrance, slipping inside with ease, pumping in and out with increasing speed.
You moan, your head falling back as his other hand circles your clit, rubbing it furiously.
"That’s it…keep making those sounds," he whispers, "So fucking wet for me. You need more, don’t you?”
You nod, unable to form words, your body consumed by the pleasure he's giving you. His rough hands continue to pleasure you, painting your ass red with just a single slap.
“Answer me.” He says, waiting for your begging voice before pressing his hard length into your ass.
“Yes- please….please Capitano.” You whimper.
You can almost feel the smirk that’s plastered on his face behind you. He lines himself up, his tip teasing your entrance, dipping just enough to coat himself in your slick arousal. You shiver at the contact, your body tensing in anticipation. Then, without warning, he presses forward, his cock sliding partway into your tight channel before pausing.
"Relax," he commands, his voice firm. "Give yourself to me completely."
You try to relax, breathing deeply, but the stretch is overwhelming. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you steady as he begins to push deeper, filling you inch by agonizing inch. You bite your lip to stifle a cry, your muscles clenching around him as he forces his way inside.
"That's it," he whispers, his voice strained. "Take it all, my little slut."
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he's buried deep inside you, his balls pressed against your ass. You gasp, overwhelmed by the sensation, by the fullness, by the sheer dominance of his presence within you. It's almost too much, but somehow, it's exactly what you need.
Capitano doesn't wait for you to adjust. With a low growl, he pulls back until only his tip remains, then thrusts forward again, his hips slamming into yours with bruising force. You cry out, your hands clutching at the desk for support as he claims you over and over again. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making your head spin and your vision blur.
"Fuck, you feel good," he grunts, his voice rough with exertion. "So tight, so perfect."
His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. He fucks into your at a monstrous pace, your body going limp. He picks you up, holding your neck firm from behind.
“Arch your fucking back.” He growls, roughly handling you into position. You can feel the tension building in him, the same tension that's coiling inside you, tightening with every thrust, every caress. You're close, so close, but he's not done with you yet.
He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back, his lips brushing against your ear. "Look at me," he commands, his voice a low rumble.
You obey, turning your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are wild, filled with lust and possession. He looks at you as if you're his world, his everything, and in this moment, you believe it.
"You're mine," he whispers, “Anytime another person- another damn harbinger calls for you- shit” He groans, “…tell them to fuck off. Captain’s order?” his voice thick with emotion. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, I will-!" you breathe, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
His hand slides down to your clit again, his fingers rubbing in fast, desperate circles. The added stimulation pushes you over the edge, and you scream his name as you come undone, your body convulsing around his cock. He follows right behind you, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave, filling you with his warmth.
You’ve never served Capitano with a cold cup of tea again.
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whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.
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retroaria · 5 months ago
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Domestic Life w/ Osamu Dazai ⁺˚⋆。°✩₊ ⁺˚⋆。°✩₊
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• ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── •
summary: life with agency!dazai, days off, date nights, the whole shabang!
warnings: slightly suggestive at some points (not sure if MDNI is necessary but keep it in mind) NOT SAD AND MISERABLE CANON DAZAI!!! Pretend he is happy and joyous for this, why would he want to die when he has you? Not proofread!!
BSD M.LIST | enjoy 🐈 - aria
• ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── •
The days where Dazai can fully devote himself to you are unfortunately far and few. On top of that, he’s a rather forgetful man. He saves all his reports for the last minute, needing to finish them up while everyone else is already gone (or spend just as much time begging Atsushi to do them for him). He makes plans, promises, deals, all of which take up his time aside from the usual agency agenda.
You know that Dazai loves what he does, so you put up with it. At the very least he still comes home almost every night, flops himself down on the bed and wraps his arms tight around you. And he’ll still be there in the morning. flashing you a warm smile as you wake up to see him adjusting the collar of his suit, throwing his jacket over his shoulder before planting a soft kiss to your lips and heading out the door. The purely intimate moments you get to experience together always happen in the dead of night or at the crack of dawn.
Aside from that, as well as all the work related events Dazai brings you to, his days off don’t come often. Whenever the stars align and those days do happen to fall upon you, you know immediately as you wake up in the morning. He’s still wrapped around you, arms and legs, almost in a death grip. He would’ve left for work by now if he had too, not that he hasn’t slept in late before, but his suit is still sprawled on the floor of your room. He hadn’t taken the time to wash it or hang it back up because he wouldn’t be needing it the next day.
• ───────── ·𖥸· ───────── •
These days begin with an absolute power struggle in the bedroom (not the fun kind). This man will not wake up and will not let you out of bed. He will whine and groan and sometimes even shed tears at the fact that you would ever want to leave him when he finally can spend a morning with you. “Dazai we still have stuff to do today, you can just hold me captive.”
“Do you hate me Bella, is that it? Has our love truly dwindled? I finally have the chance to engulf you in my affection and you want no part of it.” He’ll give you a full Shakespearean style monologue about how cruel it is that you would deny his neediness.
“Oh my god Osamu, you are so dramatic”
Eventually you do escape his grasp and leave the bedroom to start the day, to which he must follow suit. These days are spent with Dazai following you around like a lost puppy.
He follows you to the bathroom, you guys get ready together, he sits on the toilet while you shower, talking to you through the curtain about all the recent agency drama, casually mentioning all the times he’s almost died in the last week alone. (He’s also sneaking peaks of you, slyly pulling the curtain back when you won’t notice)
On days where the two of you get to go out you always let him pick your outfit. Dazai’s list of skills typically pertain to crime and manipulation, but style and fashion is somewhere in there too. He’s usually wearing simple jeans and a crew neck, but he wants you to look like a runway model next to him. “Gosh you look beautiful, gonna make me look like the luckiest guy in the world standing next to you!” he gushes in a sing-song tone.
The first order of business is breakfast, a task which Dazai wants desperately to help you with, but always fails miserably. You opt to let him make coffee for you two, which he adorns with an ungodly amount of sugar and creamer. you’ve been drinking Dazais coffee for so long you’ve grown to like it. It’s like a sweet treat with breakfast, nothing you could complain about. If he gets his hands on a frying pan you’re truly doomed, so this is the one thing you let him have. He can handle the toaster too so he’ll make toast for you guys with jam on it that he spreads on in the shape of a heart with a smiley face in the middle “Dona’ look, can you tell what it is?” he says with a smirk of confidence on his face.
“Very sweet Osamu, your hearts are getting better and better” You can’t actually tell what it is but you know he does the same thing every time. You grab the toast from him and plant a kiss on his cheek, it’s like his reward.
One of Dazai’s favorite things in the world is going to the grocery store with you. It’s such a simple task, that always ends up being so much fun. He relishes in the domesticity of it. It feels almost intimate in a way, it’s something you both would have to do if you were apart, but you’re together, so you do it together for the both of you. He loves being reminded that you are a part of his life in every way.
But god is he troublesome
Dazai is the kind of person to stay at the sample stand and talk to the employee for forever. After about 10 minutes he knows their geographical lineage, their favorite flavor of ice cream, their mother’s maiden name, the name of the high school they went to, the name of their first love, but then he gets bored and moves on. Btw he ate the whole tray of samples while he was talking to them, but made sure to swipe one for you before he bounced. “Don’t think I forgot about you darling” he’d wink as he hands you the cup.
Once you guys get everything you need you head back home. Dazai is a gentleman and is obviously carrying all the heavy bags, but not without complaining. “I don’t remember us getting 3 tons of milk”
“I have the milk, that’s the bag with the 10lb rice”
“I don’t remember us getting 3 tons of rice either.”
When the two of you get home he acts like he just got back from a 12 hour shift, like he’s been fighting an enemy organization all the day, like he’s been strategizing with Ranpo for hours, like he just had to get rescued by Chuuya. He helps you put the groceries away and throws himself onto the couch.
Once he notices you’ve start cooking he returns from his corpse like state on the couch and peaks over at you. He likes watching you cook because you look so focused yet so relaxed at the same time (I’m sorry if you don’t like to cook oops) . He likes to try and read your mind whenever he watches you do things.
Eventually he’ll get up and walk over to the record player in your living room. As you’re chopping away you notice the feint sound of a jazzy tune ringing away behind you, before you can turn around to see the source there is a pair of hands on your hips, swaying you from side to side. “Osamu, I have a knife in my hand”
“That’s never stopped me from anything before in my entire life” he hums away, pushing his body up against yours as he lays his head in the crook of your neck. You guys stay like that as you continue to cook, him humming into your shoulder, planting soft kisses as you simply sway to and forth.
“This is really nice, but I’m about to start chopping onions.” You lied, you were already chopping them.
“Augh god, my eyes! Why would you ruin the moment!?”
“I have to make dinner ‘samu!”
After dinner you guys both enter a corpse like state on the couch, snuggled together, either watching a movie or a parallel play type thing, usually both of you reading your respective books. During this time Dazai can be rather clingy, wanting to literally lay on top of you or have you lay on top of him. He also needs to get your opinion on whatever is happening in the movie or this crazy new suicide method he saw in his book (it’s a novelty interest now, how could he want to die when he has you!)
As bed time approaches, Dazai gets into the shower and it’s your turn to sit in the bathroom with him and tell him about all of your own work drama. Unlike Dazai, your peaks behind the curtain aren’t very sly “hey I see you~” he’d say in a teasing tone.
When the two of you finally get into bed, a wave of sadness washes over Dazai. He is unpleasantly reminded that he has to go to work tomorrow. His little life with you would end once morning came and he’d go back to having to use 100% of his brain power to focus on anything but you. He dreaded the thought and all he can do now to eleviate the pain is pull you close beside him. He plants a million kisses on your face before pulling your lips against his into a deeper kiss that usually lasts until both of you are tired and slightly out of breath.
At this point you begin to drift off to sleep in each others arms. You awaken the next morning to Dazai flashing you a warm smile as he adjusts the collar of his suit, throwing his jacket over his shoulder before planting a soft kiss to your lips and heading out the door.
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I FINALLY wrote something for my husband Dazai. I hope you guys enjoy and I can’t wait to keep writing I’m having so much fun here!! Stay safe guys and much love 🤍🤍🤍 -aria
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yelenasbraid · 7 months ago
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𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐲 — 𝒋𝒐𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘
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summary — joe surprises you with his runway outfit
warnings — fem!reader, fluff, and smut (oral m!receiving) MDNI 18+
note — yes, yes i am reacting to his paris trip because it’s the only thing that’s been on my mind. also, this is a long one so bear with me
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𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐉𝐎𝐄 𝐀𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 to go to paris with him, you couldn’t say no. despite going to a foreign country with little knowledge of the language, you were excited. you packed your bags, rambling on about the foods you’d try and the places you’d see. you were too busy rambling to see the grin that joe had on his face.
paris had a lot more to offer than macaroons and the eiffel tower. you also got to see joe in more outfits than just a shirt and jeans. the way his stylist accentuated every aspect of joe made you drool. the arms, the thighs, even the little bit of exposed chest made your knees weak.
joe definitely took notice.
“what?” he asked as he adjusted a black button down, matched with slacks and platform shoes. his skin was perfectly toned, and his hair was perfectly wavy.
he looked like a greek god.
“nothing, just admiring the view,” you respond as you sit crossed legged on his bed.
“does it look good?” he asked, turning himself towards the mirror, seeing for himself. you stood up from the bed, walked over and wrapped your arms around him. you peaked around his side, resting your cheek on his arm, giving him a smile through the mirror.
“it looks amazing, joey,” you hummed. little did you know that he had a lot more in store for you.
never in your life did you think that you’d be watching a fashion show. you especially doubted that if you went, you’d see your boyfriend walking in said fashion show.
you were sat next to his stylist, kyle, and watched as the show progressed. you hadn’t seen his outfit, joe being adamant he wanted it to be a surprise. joe had a feeling he knew what your reaction would be, and just thinking about it made his excitement blossom.
you watched model after model, taking in their outfits all while looking for the ultimate star of the show: joe burrow. you found him, and how you managed to keep your composure was a miracle.
you couldn’t see much, but as he rounded a corner towards you, you saw how the suit exposed his chest, the lighting accentuating the muscles you could see. he kept a straight face, keeping his pace up with justin’s. your eyes never left his form, but your mind wandered. the images that filled your mind, the way you wanted to run your fingers down his chest and feel him shiver beneath you. you blinked a few times to compose yourself as he walked closer.
he spotted you, and oh it made things worse.
while he knew what he was wearing, he didn’t know what you’d picked out. the skin tight black dress you wore, your hair pinned up out of your face, and the dainty jewelry that decorated your body just made him go absolutely insane. he couldn’t react, not right now at least.
you gave him a soft smile as he turned, and as he did, you saw the rest of the outfit.
or the lack of it.
the back of his suit exposed his back as well as every working muscle. you shifted in your seat, watching as the muscles in his back moved with every step he took. it caught you by surprise, and not in a bad way either. his exposed back had you feeling things.
it would look much better with nail marks.
“like what you see?” kyle’s voice interrupted your thoughts, a growing smirk adorning his face.
“i definitely do,” you whispered back. the talent that kyle displayed over the last few days was insane, and it definitely made you fall for your boyfriend all over again.
it was almost 2 hours before you saw your boyfriend again in your hotel room. you had just walked in and was about to change when your boyfriend stepped in.
“look who it is, next top model,” you smiled, stepping into his line of sight. you were busy taking off your jewelry, particularly your earrings.
“can add ‘was in a fashion show’ to my list of fun facts,” he smiled as he shuffled in. the shoes he wore were the most uncomfortable, so he was sure to take those off first. he walked up to you, taking all of you in. you still wore the dress, though to his disappointment you were in the process of changing out of it.
“if you ever need to do an icebreaker again, you have your fun fact,” you agreed as you walked back into the bathroom, placing your fancy earrings on the sink. you put in your usual ones, the ones that were everyday use. joe walked in behind you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into your neck.
“did you like my surprise?” he asked against your neck, peppering kisses to your skin.
“hm, i think its safe to say i did,” you hummed as you lifted a hand to comb your fingers through his hair. the feeling of your fingers through his hair made him shiver and sigh against your neck. he pulled away, only to press a gentle kiss on your temple.
you turned to face him, resting your hips against the counter.
“kyle really popped off, didn’t he?” you hummed as your eyes flick to the exposed area of his chest. your hand gently pressed against his skin, feeling the warmth of him beneath you. your hand traveled down his torso, down to the button, and you unbuttoned the suit coat.
“he is a stylist,” joe commented, but he was barely able to keep it together. the feeling of your hand on his chest, with how he was now exposed to you and how your hands explored the taut muscles in his chest, he was going crazy. you drove him crazy.
“mmhmm,” you hummed as your pointer finger found a belt loop, and you pulled him closer to you. with the other hand, you cradled the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss, one he didn’t deny you.
it started slow and gentle. the way your lips moved against his told him you were proud of him, that you loved him. it turned hungrier as you slid your hand to his back, loosening the tie that held the back of his suit together. he needed you. you were hungry for the taste of him.
it didn’t take long for both of you to be on the bed, your lips still interlocked as you laid beneath him. you separated from him, catching your breath. his mouth moved to your neck, nipping at the skin, creating bruises that screamed ‘you’re mine.’ you tossed your head back, resting it against the bed as your hands dug into the muscles in his back.
your hands moved to his chest, slipping his suit coat off his shoulders. he did the rest, flinging it to the floor.
“that was probably $3,000 you just flung,” your breaths were picking up as he ravaged your neck, and a chuckle escaped him at your comment.
“i have a feeling you wanted to rip it off of me anyways,” his voice was raspy as he kissed a blossoming bruise on your neck. the second he separated his lips from your skin, you flipped so you were on top and he was on his back. your lips traveled down his neck and his chest, lingering on the muscles in his abdomen. you teased him, lightly grazing your lips over his skin causing him to twitch. the ache in the pit of his stomach grew, watching as your lips trailed closer and closer to where he found he wanted and needed you the most.
your fingers dove under the waistline of his pants, caressing his skin. your lips followed suit, kissing the trail your fingers were leaving behind. your hands slowly slipped joe’s pants off of his hips, and you separated your lips from his skin. you looked at him, seeing how his eyes were glazed over in anticipation, and then you looked down at his erection.
you didn’t waste time pulling down his boxers and encircling him with your hands. shuddering breaths fell from joe’s lips as you pumped him up and down, listening as joe’s breaths turned into faint whimpers.
with one hand he gripped the sheets and with the other he buried it into your hair, the pleasure he was getting building up inside of him. your name fell from his lips like a chant as you added the feeling of your lips against his dick. his hips involuntarily bucked into your mouth, making you gag. with every touch and with every bob of your mouth, joe felt the all too familiar feeling of his climax approaching.
“keep going, y/n, please,” he whimpered, words riding out on breaths in desperation. you didn’t stop, you kept going, and eventually his hips snapped and he spilled all in your mouth. moans were heard from both of you, cum dripping out of the side of your mouth. you let go of him, reaching up and pressing a much needed kiss to his lips. he moaned into your mouth, his hand still in your hair. you separated and felt him wipe some remnant of his arousal off of your chin. you felt his other hand work the zipper on the back of your dress.
“your turn, princess,”
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…i think it’s obvious how i feel about joey’s little runway show. anyways, this is the first time i’ve written AND posted anything smutty (there’s definitely been drafts) so i apologize if this absolutely sucks. but, enjoy nonetheless hehe
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ice-man-goes-bwoah · 14 days ago
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Accidental Kidnapping||Mafia boss!Jensen Button x Reader
Word count —925
The fluorescent parking lot lights buzzed faintly, their flicker cutting through the heavy shroud of fatigue that clung to you. Your footsteps echoed in the stillness, dragging like the weight of the day itself. The strap of your backpack slipped from your shoulder, and you clumsily caught it mid-fall, muttering a string of curses under your breath. Coffee, adrenaline, and sheer stubbornness were all that kept you upright as you shuffled toward your car.
There it was—same make, same model, same midnight blue. You barely registered the sight, your mind fogged with exhaustion. Pulling out your keys, you unlocked it with a familiar beep, climbed inside, and dropped your bag onto the passenger seat with a relieved sigh. The scent of leather mixed with faint cologne brushed your senses, but you didn’t think about it. All you could think about was your bed—a sanctuary waiting at the end of this endless day.
The engine hummed to life, and you shifted into drive with mechanical ease. Your body moved on autopilot as you pulled out of the lot, but your tired haze shattered like glass at the sound of a voice—smooth, deep, and laced with dry amusement.
“Well, this is new.”
Your heart seized in panic, feet slamming on the brakes. The car jerked to a violent stop, and for a moment, the world stood still. Breathing hard, you whipped around, your pulse thundering in your ears.
There, lounging in the backseat, sat a man. His light brown hair was tousled like he’d just stepped off a runway, and his piercing blue eyes danced with a mix of curiosity and mischief. He was maddeningly relaxed, one long leg crossed over the other, his arm draped across the seat like this was his personal limousine.
“Who the hell are you, and why are you in my car?!” The words shot out in a breathless rush, your hands gripping the wheel so tight your knuckles turned white.
The man raised a brow, his lips curling into a smirk that sent a fresh wave of irritation through you. “Darling, the better question is: why are you in mine?”
Your stomach dropped. Confused, your gaze flickered to the dashboard. That air freshener wasn’t yours. Neither were the sleek leather seats you now sat in. Or the faintly expensive cologne scent that hung in the air.
“Oh my God.” Heat flooded your cheeks as the realization hit like a freight train. “Oh my God. I—I got in the wrong car. This isn’t—oh no, no, no. I’m so sorry, I—”
Before you could finish, he leaned forward slightly, the smirk never leaving his face. “You know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “if you wanted to be alone with me, all you had to do was ask. No need for theatrics.”
Your jaw dropped, indignation flooding your embarrassment. “You’re joking, right? I just—accidentally kidnapped you, and now you’re… flirting with me?”
He shrugged, unbothered. “What can I say? I like a little excitement. Although,” he added, fishing his phone from his pocket, “I should probably let my team know I’ve been… taken.”
“Team?” you repeated, your frown deepening. “What team?”
Instead of answering, he sent a quick text and settled back, studying you with an almost lazy interest. Every move he made was casual, effortless, like the absurdity of the situation didn’t faze him in the slightest.
“Look,” you said, pressing your fingers to your temples in frustration, “this is just a huge mistake. I’ll take you back to the lot, and we can forget this ever happened.”
He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Take me back? Now, where’s the fun in that?”
“Fun?” you echoed, your voice rising in disbelief. “This isn’t fun! This is a disaster! I just wanted to go home and sleep, and now I’m stuck with—” You gestured at him helplessly. “You!”
He chuckled, the sound low and rich, sending an unwelcome shiver down your spine. “You’re handling it surprisingly well, considering.”
“Why aren’t you freaking out?” you snapped. “For all you know, I could be some crazy person!”
His smile turned almost wolfish. “Trust me, I’ve met crazy. You’re more… endearingly chaotic.”
“Great. Glad I’m so entertaining for you,” you muttered, gripping the wheel as if it might anchor you to reality.
��I still don’t know your name, though,” he said, his tone light, as if he wasn’t an uninvited guest in your nightmare. “What should I call my accidental captor?”
“It’s Y/N,” you bit out reluctantly.
“Y/N,” he repeated, the way he said it smooth, deliberate, like he was testing the shape of it in his mouth. “I’m Jenson. Pleased to meet you.”
Jenson. Something about the name tugged at the edges of your memory, but you were too frazzled to place it. He looked vaguely familiar too, though you couldn’t quite figure out why.
“Alright, Jenson,” you said, exhaling sharply. “Where do you want me to drop you off?”
He leaned forward, pretending to consider it. “Hmm… dinner sounds good. You did go through all this trouble, after all.”
You stared at him, incredulous. “Not happening.”
He grinned, pulling out his phone again. The glint of an expensive watch caught your eye, as did the tailored cut of his suit. This wasn’t just some guy. And the realization sent unease skittering through you.
“Who are you, really?” you asked, suspicion sharpening your tone.
Jenson’s eyes met yours in the rearview mirror, his expression playful but his gaze sharp, calculating. “Let’s just say I’m someone who doesn’t mind a little adventure.”
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